#“you insolent and disrespectful young man” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whisker-biscuit · 6 months

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The Lines We Cross: Chapter 20

A Perilous Ascent

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What is a home if not the first place you learned to run from?

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The shadow of the Kunlun Mountains shrouded everything and everyone as a car rolled to a stop at the entrance of a giant temple. From the driver’s seat, out stepped the Panda King, who surveyed the area for a long moment before moving to the back half of the car.

He paused with his hand on the door handle, bracing himself. Then he opened it.

A little gray blur came shooting out of the backseat, but King was faster. He caught the boy by the collar of his shirt and hauled him into the air as he flailed in a pitiful, desperate attempt to break free.

“Cease your behavior,” the Fiendish Five member said, staring down the struggling raccoon. When nothing changed, he shook him once in warning. “Cease, or I will make you cease.”

The young Cooper finally seemed to get the message, because he stopped trying to swing and kick at his captor’s arm. Instead, he glared at him with all the hate and hostility an eight-year-old could possibly hold.

The Panda King was well aware how deceptively large that amount could be.

“I am going to put you down now,” he told him, watching the way the child tensed in anticipation, “and we are going to walk inside together. Do not think you will be able to escape so easily – my employees are all loyal to me, and will not hesitate to shoot a trespasser on sight, no matter your age. You will only be safe here with me.”

The kit eyed the temple ahead of them and the shine of spotlights going all the way up each floor.

“Do you understand?”

A sullen nod was his answer without even a glance in his direction. Familiar anger curled in the panda’s chest like the trapped smoke of a raging fire at the open display of disrespect, but he did not release it. All he did was place the raccoon gently back onto his feet, keeping his fingers on a tight grip at the back of his neck.

It was fortuitous he had the insight to do so, because the young Cooper immediately tried to bolt again the instant his shoes hit the snowy ground. King jerked him back so powerfully he collided with the man’s leg.

Insolent child.

He pushed the boy forward through the entrance. Employees and guards alike snapped to attention at his presence with not even a glance at the child at his side. The Panda King nodded to each in turn as he made eye contact with them.

Deeper into the heart of the factory the two of them went. The fireworks master didn’t necessarily need to take this route to reach their destination, but he wanted to show the boy that it was futile to fight back. The power and respect he commanded in these mountains were second only to some of the oldest family lines in the entire country. Even the local government feared his wrath, and they worked around each other in a begrudging truce.

His methods appeared to be working, too – the child was staring at everyone around them with wide, wide eyes, and seemed to walk a little faster with every new guard he saw. As they exited the factory back into open air, a large gorilla nearly walked right into them, who backed away quickly as he realized his mistake and bowed low.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said in Cantonese. “I should have been paying more attention. I hope I did not cause offense.”

The Panda King opened his mouth to respond when he suddenly felt resistance at his side. He glanced down to see the young Cooper trying to edge behind him. A pang of irritation shot through him until he realized the reason why – the guard’s flashlight was shining directly at the kit and, at the angle he was bowing, their gazes were locked. His gun was easily visible on one hip, and a large dagger glinted in the evening light on his other.

In the stark, unavoidable face of danger and confrontation, the raccoon’s fragile bravado was cracking to reveal the true terror underneath. He wasn’t ignorant or dismissive of his situation like the panda had first believed; if anything, he was all too aware of it. So afraid of his new fate when faced with it, the boy couldn’t help but try to hide behind his own captor. Seeking some form of comfort and protection, bare as it was, from one of the very people who had helped slaughter his family.

He was still only eight years old, after all.

King stared at him for a long moment before turning back to his waiting guard. “It was not your fault. You did not know we were coming. Please, continue with your duties.”

The gorilla gave another bow and hurried along, leaving the panda and his ward alone in the cold dark. The child shivered, still half-pressed against him.

“...Let us move on,” he said at last without addressing it. Sly didn’t nod or even look up at him, but he went without resistance when they continued walking.

Past more temples, residencies, and dozens of watchful guards, they finally arrived at their destination – a great stone fortress carved into the mountain itself. It was still largely hidden from the outside, but the fireworks master had been considering changing that lately. Perhaps something based on his likeness to show the unquestionable claim he had over this region.

The moment they stepped inside, there were attendants appearing at the Panda King’s side ready and waiting for orders. He regarded them, still holding tight to the young Cooper’s shirt.

“I want one of the empty rooms to be cleared out for living,” he announced, “with reinforced walls and an outer lock on its door. Choose a room with no windows.”

Over half of his servants broke away to begin immediately. He turned to two more.

“Bring me my ten best guards. I require a meeting with them within one hour.”

The boy glanced back and forth between him and his servants with a confused frown as he spoke. King ignored it; he would learn Mandarin to communicate with the staff in due time.

Once every attendant had a job to do and had left them alone, he finally acknowledged the child again.

“You will live here as a personal servant to me and my family,” he said, switching to English. The kit’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “Do not be ungrateful. I have decided that you will have a simple vocation, but I will not hesitate to give you hard labor if you continue to scorn the mercy that has been shown to you. Do you understand?”

He glared at the floor, so King kneeled to get on his level and forced him to meet his eyes. If looks could kill, the panda knew he would have stopped breathing in an instant.

“Do you understand, Sly Cooper?”

The child’s tail curled tightly around his legs. His breaths came out in quiet, angry huffs, and there were tears growing in his eyes. But he eventually nodded without a word in protest. Not a word at all, in fact, which the fireworks master had noticed had been the case as far back as the States. Ever since Clockwerk had forced him to tell them his name mere centimeters from the corpse of his father, the kit hadn’t made a single sound afterward.

Tucking away the peculiarity to ponder over at a later time, the panda got back to his feet and began to turn around with the young Cooper’s shirt still in his grip – and was only mildly surprised to see his sister standing in the nearby doorway. Her expression was shrewd as she laid eyes on the raccoon fidgeting at his side.

“Who is that?” She asked.

“A servant for Jing.”

“You took a local from a nearby town?” The other panda gave him a sharp glance. “His family will want him back, surely. They will cause a stir.”

“No one will do that. He is not a local, nor does he have any family. He is…the child of a former rival.”

He had phrased it carefully, but he could not stop the real meaning from shining through.

“He’s what?!” Now she stared at the child with disdain and disgust, who flinched and tried to hide behind King to no avail. “What were you thinking, bringing him here? He will smother your daughter in her sleep! He will burn this entire place to the ground if given half the chance!”

“He will not get that chance.” When the woman scoffed in disbelief, King reached forward and gently took hold of her shoulder. “My dear sister, please listen to me. I would never do anything to put Jing or us in harm’s way. I saved this boy from death, and he will repay that debt until he is old enough to fend for himself.”

“We were never given that courtesy,” she muttered, crossing her arms and refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t like this. You think you are showing mercy to an innocent soul, but your bleeding heart will not see the danger until there is a knife at your throat.”

The panda considered telling her of the Cooper Cane hidden away in his luggage, then decided against it. The boy would not be allowed access to it for several years at least. There was no need to worry his sister further.

Before either of them could continue their argument, a third, younger voice cut in that sent joy through his heart to hear.

“Daddy! You’re back!”

A little panda girl darted out from around her aunt, who tried and failed to stop her from advancing, and ran towards King with her arms outstretched. Then she saw the boy at her father’s side and stopped in her tracks with big, curious eyes.

“Who’s that?”

The young Cooper had frozen as well at the sight of the other child, and the fireworks master studied the open shock on his face a moment before pushing him forward.

“Dear daughter, this young man will be a personal servant to our family. Please treat him with respect as you would the rest of the staff.”

The Panda King turned to the raccoon and gently grabbed onto his chin to force him to look at him instead of his daughter.

“Sly Cooper, this is my daughter, Jing King.” He watched the way the kit’s eyes widened, and let the words sink in before continuing. “If you ever do anything to cause her harm, then I will not hesitate to strike you down where you are standing.”

The child swallowed, his gaze darting sideways to glance over at Jing again. King could no longer read the emotions on his face, and he did not know how to feel about that. For not the first time, he wondered if he had made a mistake.

But he had already chosen this path, and he would see it through to whatever end lay ahead. There was no stopping fate’s course. All he could hope for was that his daughter would remain safe.

Safe, and happy.

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A snowstorm was due soon.

Jing King could always tell when one was on its way – not from the shifting weather or her own innate senses, but from the way the staff at her aunt’s house began hustling and bustling more than usual every time. Their daily schedule flowed like water, accounting for even the slightest changes and working around them with professional grace to appease their employer.

That schedule was how Jing measured the monotony of the weeks, nowadays. After nearly a year of living with her aunt, not allowed out of the house for more than a few hours of carefully monitored shopping where an entire entourage followed her like she was the next heir to the Chinese monarchy, all she could rely on for interest and comfort was watching how the people around her went about their busier, more interesting lives.

The only other thing that made them as busy as an incoming storm was when her father came to visit. Today, from what she could tell by how frantic they had been since dawn, seemed to be a day for both.

Her father never announced ahead of time when he was coming, but the staff always seemed to know anyway, well before his family could see his shadow arriving in the archway of the outer garden. Jing watched from her high room window as he stepped up to the house with a large bag slung over one shoulder, hearing hurrying footsteps up and down the hall outside her closed door as servants put the finishing touches on polishing the floors.

This, too, she felt detached from – as if she were not actually here, but a ghostly specter witnessing the events around her without ever being acknowledged.

Her father stopped just outside the front door, eyes casting upwards until they locked onto hers, and she felt her expression pull into something as close to a glare as she dared to make. His mouth thinned, visible even two stories down, and he entered the house with a hunch to his form.

How she wished she would not be acknowledged. It would be so much easier than this state of limbo she found herself in after all these months.

After all these years.

Jing waited, unmoving, at her window, and three minutes later there was a firm knock on her door. She didn’t answer; didn’t even turn around as it was gently slid open and her father’s shadow darkened everything in her room.

“Dear daughter, you will not even greet me at the door anymore?”

She finally turned to look at him, her face as blank as she could possibly make it. “I wasn’t aware it was such a momentous occasion to warrant leaving my room.”

The Panda King was such a large man that he had to duck to get through the doorframe. It would have done little to affect his intimidating presence if he were not moving as timidly as he was right now.

“Such callous words greatly wound me,” he said, coming to a stop in the center of the room with the bag between his hands. “I do not understand why you say these things instead of what is truly on your mind and in your heart.”

Jing couldn’t help the way her hands clenched into fists where they sat in her lap. Her tone was clipped and icy as she answered. “I tried that once, Father, and it didn’t matter in the end. How can you expect me to think the outcome will be any different this time?”

They stared at each other in silence for a solid minute. The chasm between them was deep and frigid and uninviting, and the younger panda waited to see if this was finally the day that her father would attempt to cross it.

She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed when he did not.

“…I brought gifts from my time in Sierra Leone,” he said after a moment too long, setting the bag on the end of her bed. “There are many beautiful clothes and keepsakes in here. All for you.”

“Thank you, Father.” It was empty gratitude, and they both knew it, but they had fallen so far into this routinely charade that it felt wrong to do anything else. “Did you take any pictures of the places you visited?”

That question, too, was part of the routine – as was the way he shook his head in what she dared to believe was still a genuine apology.

“You know I cannot ever risk knowledge of where I’ve been to exist, my dear. Photographs are too dangerous a tool to wield in the wrong hands.”

She gave a wooden nod and turned back towards the window. “I will look through the things you’ve brought me later. For now, I’m going to stay here to watch the oncoming sunset.”

Instead of hearing his retreating footsteps like always, there was a concerning lack of movement behind her. Jing held her breath and waited for the break in routine that her father was about to make, and wondered if it might shatter her world.

Again.

“I will not be staying for much longer. I have urgent business higher up on the mountain tonight.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed; she didn’t know when they had tensed in the first place. “How long will you be?”

“I don’t know. At least several days, and I will probably not return here on my way back down.”

The invitation, the plea, was clear as day, but Jing refused to stop looking out the window. She kept her gaze resolutely on the distant, waning sun.

“Then…I hope your travels remain safe as always, Father.”

She closed her eyes at the sound of the sad sigh at her back, pretending it didn’t hurt to hear even now. The Panda King began to slowly make his way towards the door. When he stopped, she still didn’t move a muscle.

“I love you, qiān jīn. I hope you will not forget that.”

“I know you do, Father.” Jing hesitated a moment, but only to make sure her voice would remain steadfast. “And I love you, too.”

After he had finally left, after she heard his footsteps fade away and then watched him walk out of the front garden until he disappeared from sight, the young panda felt tears shimmering in the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away before they could fall and put her head in her hands, aching from a loss that she didn’t know how to fix.

She stayed there at the window until the sun set without really seeing it, and continued to stay there until the sky finally grew too dark to see the vast mountain landscape. Snowflakes were starting to fall, barely visible even as they danced right in front of the glass. Jing opened the window to let them land on her windowsill, ignoring the sudden biting chill, and finally got up to turn on another lamp at the other end of the room.

There was a thump from outside her window.

Jing turned around, confused by the sound, and watched with shock and alarm as a hand appeared to grip at the windowsill. She stood there, frozen, as the hand was followed by a hooded head and a lanky body and a ringed tail.

“Sly?!”

The figure pulled himself fully through the window and hit the floor of her room with an audible thud. She winced at the sound, staring at him in worry when he didn't move other than to violently shiver. He looked soaked head to toe from snow, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

His lips were blue.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Who she was seeing. Words escaped her as she tried to process what to do; what to even say.

“Sly –”

A knock at the door made her gasp and clap her hand over her mouth.

“Ma’am? Is everything okay?” Called an attendant from out in the hall. “I heard something loud.”

“Everything’s fine!” She replied quickly, picking up the limp raccoon as gently as she could. He weighed practically nothing to her. “I accidentally dropped a book. Please do not come in!”

There was hesitant silence from outside. Jing prayed they didn’t open the door as she carefully laid Sly on her bed and pulled a heavy blanket over him.

“Alright, ma’am, if you’re sure…”

“Very sure! Completely sure! Please do not bother me again unless I ask for you!”

Something about her tone must have gotten harsh at the end, because the attendant hurried off with only a quiet “yes, ma’am” to accompany their departure. For once, she couldn't bring herself to feel remorse.

Not when a specter of her past life was lying in front of her for the first time in six years.

The panda pulled her desk chair out next to the bed and sank slowly down onto it, watching the slow rise and fall of Sly’s chest as he curled up in her blankets and fought to get warmth back in him. She bit her lip, afraid to break the silence for fear that he might disappear the moment she spoke.

It seemed he had read her mind, however, because that very moment his eyes cracked open to stare at her.

“Hey, xiǎo mèi…” He murmured, exhausted and toneless. “Been a while, huh?”

The sound of his voice was nearly enough to bring tears back to her eyes. After all this time, he was still so similar in so many ways.

“It has been a very long time, indeed,” she managed to say without letting those tears fall, wringing her hands. “I thought…I mean, I wasn’t sure if…”

If I would ever see you again.

“...Where have you been all this time?”

“Oh, you know, around.” The raccoon sat up with a wince with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders, trying not to look as though he had just trekked up the mountain on foot. Which he probably had, she was starting to realize. “Got to do some traveling, saw the world, that kind of thing. I even got pictures for you – you were always talking about how much you wanted to get out of Kunlun.”

When Jing didn’t react except to continue wringing her hands in worry, his neutral expression softened just a little.

“Hey. I’m okay. Just need to warm up a bit and I’ll be back on my feet in no time. It’s…it’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” she whispered. “I missed you so much, Sly. I was so scared for you.”

He wilted back against the mattress a bit, and she knew it had nothing to do with him being exhausted. “Yeah, I…yeah. I missed you too.”

The wind howling outside her window was the only sound that passed between them for a long moment, as Sly shivered and struggled to stay awake and Jing watched him in forlorn silence. An idea came to her suddenly and she stood up, making him jump.

“I’ll be right back. Please don’t go anywhere.”

“You say please, but I don’t think you’ll give me much of a choice either way,” he joked. Then he grew tense as she made a beeline for the door. “Where are you going?”

“To get you something to eat.”

“Jing, you don’t have to –”

“I want to.” She paused with her hand against the sliding door, and glanced back at him with a pleading look. “Please let me do this for you.”

The raccoon seemed to have an internal conflict at that, but he didn’t call after her again when she left, and she paused only to flip the sign on her door to “do not disturb” before hurrying down to the kitchen.

Dinner had already been made and cleaned up hours ago, so there was no one to bother her as she found one of the industrial refrigerators to poke around in. Leftovers were never thrown away in this house – a habit of both her aunt’s and father’s childhoods that she was now very grateful for – so it only took a minute to find some simple noodle soup, reheat it, and head back to her room with the warm bowl and an additional glass of water in tow.

Sly was right where she’d left him, huddled in blankets but watching the door with the same level of intensity she’d remembered him having even as a child. When the panda sat back down beside him and passed him the soup, he barely even bothered with the chopsticks as he began eating.

The sound of slurping was a loud echo in the room while Jing tried to figure out which of the countless questions in her head would be most likely to actually earn an answer. Sly was someone who often sidestepped truthful answers on the best of days, and right now he looked like talking was the last thing he wanted to do.

Her eyes fell to his chest, covered by clothing, and knew that the things she wanted to know above all else were things she would not dare ask in a thousand years.

“…How did you find this place?” She finally landed on, unable to stop from sounding a little bit incredulous. “You have never been to my aunt’s house before.”

“One of your servants was out shopping and I recognized the family crest on her uniform. Followed her back.” The words were quiet and spoken between rapid swallows of soup.

“Sly…you did not even know whether I would be here. What if it had been my aunt who saw you at the window instead of me? What – what if it had been my father?”

The raccoon stiffened with the chopsticks halfway up to his mouth. “Is he here?”

“No, but –”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about,” he said curtly, leaving no space for argument as he went back to eating.

Jing bit her lip. “How did you get here?”

“Walked.”

“From where? For how long?”

“Why does that matter?”

“You look like a drowned rat.”

Sly snorted into his soup. “Real nice, Jing. First time we’ve seen each other in years and you’re making fun of me.”

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Something was creeping into her voice; a mix of fondness and frustration that only he had ever been able to bring out. God, how she had missed it. “I am worried for your health.”

“I’m fine.” He refused to meet her eyes. “Made it here in one piece and I don’t even have frostbite. Probably. No need to worry.”

The panda could feel it in the air – this thread of conversation was over. Pushing him would only end poorly. She sighed and looked for a new, safer topic.

“You mentioned you had brought pictures for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” His expression was still shadowed, but a genuine smile crossed his face. “Here.”

The raccoon reached behind him into his soaked backpack and pulled out a small digital camera, which he held out towards her. When she took it from him, it struck her how much bigger her hands were compared to his. The last time she’d seen him, he’d still been taller than her, although she’d been very close to catching up.

Now, she was practically twice his size.

With a long, slow breath to quell the rising wave of lament in her heart, Jing turned the camera on and began looking through the pictures Sly had taken as he watched her for a reaction. There were hundreds of them – places and people and things she never would have imagined – and after the first several dozen she looked up at him with the biggest smile she could manage.

“This is incredible, Sly. Thank you so much for this gift. I will treasure it for as long as I live.”

He returned the smile, clearly relieved that she had liked it, and set his now-empty bowl aside. “Got pictures from all over the world in there, you know. Haiti, the United Kingdom, pretty much the whole expanse of Europe and China. Made a few detours in Russia and Kazakhstan, even. All for you.”

Jing kept her face carefully blank, mind whirling as she tried not to make him realize what he’d just let slip. Which country had he been in when he had slipped free? How long had he been running before he’d found his way here? Surely, they had not let him have a camera if he had been with them in all those places.

Had he been alone all that time, in all those places? Had he been afraid that entire time? Was he still afraid?

“…Jing?”

She startled, and realized that her cheeks were wet. Sly stared at her with visible alarm – alarm over her, worry over her, but not for himself. Never for himself.

The dam in her heart finally burst. Jing began to cry, muffled behind a hand in fear of alerting someone outside her room, and leaned forward to grab his hands in her free one.

“Sly, I’m sorry,” she cried, wanting nothing more than to pull him into a hug but terrified it would hurt him somehow. “I am so, so sorry!”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay!” He looked torn between drawing closer or giving her space as the best way to comfort her – or maybe, he was torn between wanting to drawing closer or securing an escape route for himself, just in case. The thought made her cry harder. “Jing, look at me. What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

So much. There was so much for her to be sorry for, but she focused on the new guilt instead of the old.

“You should hate me!” The panda wailed, clutching his hands as tight as she dared. “I spent all this time hoping I would get to see you again, but I knew how selfish that was, and I knew that – that if you ever got out, it would be safer for you to never come back, but you did come back, and I – I – I hate how happy I am for it!”

Silence greeted her. She didn’t dare look at him.

“You deserve to be selfish,” she continued between sniffles. “I don’t know if you came back just to see me, or because you have nowhere else to go, but this place isn’t safe for you. Kunlun isn’t safe, Sly, we both know my father’s word is law here. If you felt obligated to come here for my sake, then…then you should allow yourself to be selfish, and do what you want instead of thinking about me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath that finally made her glance upwards. Sly was staring down at her, his face pinched with guilt and his eyes endless pools of regret. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to pull his hands away from her.

“I am being selfish, Jing,” he whispered. “Everything about me being here is selfish. I – I didn’t climb this mountain just for a chance to see you.”

He stopped, and for a terrible moment she feared that he wouldn’t elaborate. But then he closed his eyes and pulled his backpack around to pull something else out. An old, tattered book, full of ripped pages, all in a large ziplock bag to keep it safe from getting wet.

“I climbed the mountain for this.”

She didn’t open the bag when he handed it to her, both out of respect of this thing he clearly held so dearly and fear that her touch might make the fragile pages crumble to dust.

“A book…” the panda murmured. “I remember…I think I remember you once mentioned this book. A book and a cane.”

“Yeah. They gave me the cane back, but not this.” Sly gingerly took it back and put it away again, then wrapped his arms around himself. “They split the pages between themselves, and I’ve been getting them back one by one since I got out.”

“How much more do you have left?”

“Just what your father’s holding onto. I already got the rest from the other three.”

Jing frowned, confused. “Other…three? Aren’t there five –”

“Don’t worry about it,” he cut her off. “I’ve already got everything figured out.”

“…Okay.” She looked down at her hands, perfectly still in her lap, then at his, twitching against the blankets. “So, you…you followed that servant back here because you hoped it would lead you to the rest of the book?”

“I did. I was hoping I’d find it all here and then I wouldn’t have to climb the mountain any further to your father’s place.” The raccoon rubbed his face with one hand, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t stop to think about whether I’d run into him, or your aunt, or even you. I, uh, wasn’t really thinking about much of anything beyond getting here.”

“I believe that. You looked half-dead when you arrived. In fact, you still do.”

Sly didn’t answer. The silence lapsed between them as Jing slowly sorted through this revelation, deciding how she felt about it.

“Do you…regret seeing me again?” She asked after a few minutes, almost afraid of the answer but needing to hear it anyway. “After everything that happened?”

He gave her a startled look, which then grew into something soft and weighted.

“Not one bit,” he said, and she trusted the honesty there. No one in her life had ever been as honest to her as he had, for better or for worse. “The camera was a real gift for you; I was going to leave it somewhere you’d find it if I didn’t see you in person. But my motives for coming here are selfish, Jing, and I’m sorry for that.”

The panda shook her head. “No. Do not apologize. I told you already that you deserve to be selfish. You deserve to do whatever you want, especially now that you’re finally free.”

There was a strange tightening around his eyes that she didn’t like, as though he didn’t actually yet believe he was free. She did not ask, though, and he did not correct whatever error she had made.

“Well, if you’re giving me permission to do what I want, I should probably get going before someone else catches me here. I need to go looking for those pages, after all.”

“What?” Jing straightened in her seat, caught off guard by both the suggestion and how unaffected he sounded as he made it.

“I won't ransack the place, promise,” he said, misunderstanding her alarm. “No one will even notice I’ve been here. Just give me a few hours to get through the house and then I’ll be out of your hair before you can get in trouble for it.”

“No, don't leave yet!” She jumped to her feet even though he hadn’t made any move to get out of bed. “Please stay. You’ve only just arrived here, and a snowstorm is coming tonight!”

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively without really looking at her. “I’ll be fine. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden, Sly. You’ve never been a burden to me. You’re fa–” she stuttered on the word as his sharp eyes caught hers.

Family, the panda was afraid to say in the face of his intense, inscrutable expression.

“...You’re important to me,” she finished lamely when the raccoon continued to give her an unreadable look.

“Your aunt would say something very different if she saw me here,” he pointed out with a bit of a sneer.

“Well, she’s not here. I am. And – and I am telling you that you’re not allowed to leave until you’re fully rested and the storm is over. I will look for the rest of your book until then, and you will focus on recovering. That is final.”

They stared at each other; him in shock and her in a valiant attempt to make herself look as no-nonsense as her father. After a few moments, Sly yielded with an incredulous chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Man, you haven’t changed a bit, have you? Just as bossy as the day we met.” There was nothing but fondness in his voice as he hunkered down among her blankets. “I never thought I’d miss it so much.”

“And you are as cryptic and infuriating as always,” Jing teased back as a way to hide her relief that he wasn’t going to disappear on her again so suddenly. “Which I would not trade for anything in the world.”

“Not even the chance to travel said world?”

“It is a tempting thought, but not even that.” She reached over to smooth down the unruly fur on his head, mildly surprised that he held still enough to let her. Either he had grown less fidgety over the years – which she highly doubted – or he was just that tired. “Rest, dà gē. If those pages are in this house, I will find them.”

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Three days later, and Jing was certain that the pages were not in the house.

It had been easier than she expected to go through rooms, as she told anyone who saw her that she was searching for something she had misplaced, but preferred to do it by herself – they all knew how bored she was, and took her words at face value. Her aunt did not care where she looked so long as she did not completely tear apart the rooms for staff to have to redo, and so she was left to her own devices.

At Sly’s suggestion, on the second day when she had returned empty-handed after going through drawers and cabinets and bedding, she had taken another pass through the house for safes and secret stashes, hidden behind walls or under floorboards or even in the ceiling. This, she passed off as thinking she had heard rodents, and soon had the staff tearing through hard surfaces for her, always under her watchful eye.

What guilt she felt at first for making them work harder than necessary was put to rest the moment she thought about the raccoon hiding in her room. The sooner she found those pages, then the sooner he could leave without getting caught here, and finally make his life his own.

By day three, still coming up short, Sly had been insistent on helping her for her third check, claiming he was fully recovered and it would be easier with two pairs of eyes knowing what to look for. The panda had been afraid to let him leave her room for fear of being seen, but he had amazed her with his stealth – already impressive when they were children and yet so much more impressive now – as well as the truly incredible trick he possessed to turn invisible for short periods of time. She knew magic existed in this world, but to hear about it was very different from seeing it, and she had marveled at his talents while he had awkwardly deflected all her compliments as best he could.

They hadn’t found anything that day, either, and the two of them retired back to her room extremely frustrated. Jing noticed, belatedly, that the staff activity was busier than usual, and noted the likelihood of another oncoming storm in the back of her mind.

“I do not think they are here, Sly,” she finally admitted that night, looking out the window at the clear, calm sky as the raccoon changed clothes behind her. “I think my father is keeping them in his stronghold further up the mountain.”

“I think you’re right.” The inflection in his voice was hard to read. She felt a gentle tap on her shoulder to tell her he was done, and they switched places. “Guess that means I’ll have to find some good snowshoes.”

The panda stopped in the middle of stepping into her nightgown. “You’re not planning to travel up there tonight, are you? There is another storm coming.”

“This damn mountain and its storms.”

“Sly…”

“I won’t leave tonight, Jing. Promise. I’ll wait the storm out first.” He ran his finger along the frame of the closed window, stopping just short of the latch as though it was locked even though they both knew it hadn’t been since he’d arrived. “It’d be pretty stupid after spending all this time recuperating. I’d ruin all your hospitality.”

“You have done stupider things, no doubt.”

“Hey. You have no proof of that.”

She giggled, tapping the raccoon’s shoulder, and they both retreated to her bed. She had been grateful these last few days that it was as big as it was; it fit both of them with plenty of room to spare. Neither of them were particularly touchy people, even with the only one they trusted.

After they had settled in for the night, back-to-back, Jing looked at the camera sitting on her nightstand. She had been going through it the last few days, savoring the details in each and every photo, but there was a pattern in them that she had started to recognize that had been bothering her.

Well, not a pattern, per se. A person.

“Sly?”

“Mm?”

“About those pictures you’ve taken…I’ve noticed something. A lot of the early ones have this woman in them.” She felt him tense up even though they weren’t touching. “She is usually in the background. Was she…following you?”

Sly had practically ceased to exist behind her; so much so that she nearly turned around to see whether he’d suddenly turned himself invisible. After several strained seconds, he forcibly relaxed in a way that fooled neither of them.

“Oh, yeah, her. Just some cop I was helping after I first got out. She wanted to cut a plea deal for what I knew about the Five, but she slipped up and let me out of her sight after a few days. Sorry, I forgot to delete the ones with her in it.”

Jing thought about the fact that almost a third of the photos on that camera had the woman in them, and some had been taken with her as the obvious focus. She wisely did not speak up.

“I can get rid of them right now, actually,” he continued, turning over to stretch his arm over her body as he reached for the camera.

“No!” The panda caught him at the wrist as quickly but gently as possible, wincing as he flinched anyway. She let go immediately and he pulled away. “Sorry. No, it is alright. I barely noticed her. I’d much rather keep everything that you saved.”

“…Fine. Sure.” Sly turned back around, his voice clipped and curt. “Just, uh, do me a favor and don’t bring her up again, alright? I don’t feel like being reminded of some dumb cop who doesn’t matter anymore.”

Anymore. She wondered at everything behind that word. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Thanks. Night.”

“Goodnight, Sly.”

Jing stayed thinking about that mystery woman, staring through her window at the cloudless skies outside, until her eyes finally grew heavily and she drifted off into uneasy sleep.

Sly’s terrified gasp woke her right back up.

She sat up quickly, worried he was having a nightmare, only to see him also sitting upright, all his fur on end while he stared at her door.

Her open door, where a familiar, giant shadow loomed as the Panda King studied the sight before him.

Jing stopped breathing.

Her father opened his mouth, closed it, then took a step into the room. Immediately, Sly scrambled backwards until he fell off the bed, while Jing remained frozen where she was. The larger panda stopped moving, but Sly didn’t – he grabbed his backpack off the floor and jumped to his feet in one swift motion, sprinting for the window mere meters away.

His hands had just found the unlocked latch when King’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You have been looking for the remainder of the book.”

It was like a switch had been flipped. Jing watched, bewildered, as the raccoon stopped trying to flee and instead slowly turned around to face the older man. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t already out the window – what did the book matter compared to his life?

Sly’s hands remained on the windowsill behind him. She could see his fingers shaking even as he put an unbothered look on his face. “Oh yeah? What made it so obvious?”

“My sister told me that you have searched the house for days for something you refused to name.”

His eyes slid over to his daughter, who remained stock-still. She couldn’t read his expression, and that was so much scarier than if he had been angry.

He turned back towards Sly. “You are on a fool’s errand. This will not end the way you think it will.”

The raccoon visibly bristled. “What do you know? Not a goddamn thing!”

“I know that you think completing that book will set you free. That everything you’ve endured for the last six years – eleven years,” he amended, when Sly snarled, “will be worth it once you have all the pages. But I can promise you, Sly Cooper, that the only thing you will find at the end of things is death.”

“Is that a threat?” The younger man demanded, reaching into his backpack to pull out a long, golden cane. He pointed it at the Panda King, who did not react. “Cause if it is, I think you’ll find I’m no longer the frightened child you used to manhandle to get your kicks.”

“I would never think of underestimating you. You have proven your worth and capabilities a thousand times over.”

“Fuck you!”

Jing saw the tremble in the arm that held the cane, and heard the fear under the bravado and fury. Sly knew he was at a disadvantage, terrified of being killed or dragged back into servitude, but he refused to run away. In fact, he sounded like he was about to launch himself at her father. She didn’t understand, but she refused to let things play out any longer without trying to stop the worst from happening.

What that “worst” could be was not something she dared think about.

“Give him what you have, Father.”

Both heads swiveled her way. Sly looked like he’d forgotten she was there; the Panda King only gave her a grim look.

“You have the rest of the pages he is looking for, surely,” she continued, voice coming out steadier than she felt. “If you have them here, then give them to him now. If they are at your stronghold, we are willing to wait until you return with them.”

He hesitated, eyebrows drawing together in what she knew very well was him considering his options. “…I do not have them on me, Jing.”

“Then go get them,” the younger panda repeated, watching Sly slowly begin to back down from an aggressive stance to general wariness. “Sly will not hurt me. He plans to leave as soon as he gets them back. Am I correct, Sly?”

“Right as rain,” the raccoon growled. “I’m sure you’ve been keeping up with the news, Panda King. You know what’s been happening to all your buddies. It’s not going to happen to you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was just using her to get what I wanted, and she did the rest on her own, but that’s all over. I’m – I’m alone, now, and this is as close as I’ll ever get to begging. Give me what’s mine and I’ll march right off this mountain. You’ll never have to see me again.”

They waited in dreadful anticipation for the man’s answer. He looked between them, solemn and somber, weighing things back and forth in his head that they were not privy to. Just when it seemed as though he would cave and give them what Sly wanted, he looked over at Jing, and his expression hardened into a resolve that made them both tense up.

“…No. I will not.” He drew himself up to his full height, and Jing had never been more afraid of what her father was capable of than in that moment. “Sly Cooper, you must leave immediately. Leave this place, and this mountain. If my men see you anywhere around here, in any capacity, by sunrise, then their orders will be to shoot you on sight. It will be the most merciful death you will receive on this path.”

“Father–!”

“Jing, you are not to follow nor remain in contact with him. You and your aunt will join me in my stronghold until further notice, and I will tolerate no disobedience.”

Her mouth clicked shut despite herself; the tone of his voice left no room for argument even in the midst of her righteous fury. She sat there, trembling, as her father and her surrogate brother stared each other down in what she surely thought was the prelude to a fight.

But then Sly sagged, as though he realized such a thing would lead him nowhere, and instead turned towards the window.

“Fine. Should’ve expected you to betray me one last time before everything changed. Again.” Pure hatred filled each word as he looked over his shoulder to shoot one last venomous glare at the Panda King. “Enjoy the rest of your cowardly life, King. Hope it’s been worth it.”

His eyes drifted over to Jing, and she greatly hoped it was not a trick of the evening light that they seemed to soften even in his spite.

“It really was good to see you again, xiǎo mèi. If this is the last time we see each other, then I want you to know I never blamed you for what happened. It wasn’t your fault. I hope you find it in yourself to be selfish, because you’re the only one of us who deserves it.”

With that, Sly slid the window open with gentility only betrayed by the fuming flickering of his tail. He did not look back again as he disappeared into the cold night.

The Panda King padded silently across the room to the window. Jing stared down at her crumpled blankets, still shaking from adrenaline and a hundred other overwhelming emotions.

“…He isn’t going to leave by morning. He will search all of Kunlun for those pages, for as long as it takes.” It was the most certain she had ever been of anything in her life. “Will you really go through with your promise to kill him for it?”

The man did not respond. He continued to stare out the window, staring up at the bright moon in the sky instead of whatever path Sly had taken out of the grounds.

“Why couldn’t you simply give him what he asked for? Why draw this terrible game out any longer? He has no ill will towards me; he will leave you alone once he gets what he wants! Are you truly so heartless?!”

Her father remained motionless with his back turned towards her. “It is more complicated than that, Jing. You do not understand.”

The calm, detached way he stated it – as though she were simply a child too young to comprehend an adult issue – brought her right back to the day her life had shattered, six years ago, sobbing at the foot of a bed occupied by a bloody, unconscious raccoon wrapped in bandages who she had fully believed would die within the night. The emotionless statue of a man she had called father who had stood in the doorway, less upset with the sight in front of him than the fact that his daughter had seen it, who had refused to answer any questions except to tell her that she would not understand.

Jing King finally snapped.

“Then make me understand!” She screamed. “What is so complicated about this that you would let my br – my best friend suffer with this false hope of a life he wants but cannot have, which you dangle in front of him like a cat with its prey? I was afraid of the monster I saw all those years ago, but now – now I know beyond all doubt that the monster I should clearly have feared the most was you!”

Her voice cracked on the last word, all desperate anger and the underlying fear that what she was yelling might actually be true. The Panda King flinched so violently that she almost wondered if she had hit him and not realized it. He turned around and she could see he was on the verge of tears.

That cut through to her core deeper than any other words or actions ever could. In her eighteen years of life, she had never, ever seen her father cry. She fell silent as he sat down heavily on the ground, staring at his hands as though he despised everything about them.

“You are right,” he whispered, wavering like she’d never heard before, either. “I am a monster and a coward, Jing. I…I had hoped that you would be shielded from the evils of the world – the evils that I have done, and continue to do, but that is not fair to you. You deserve the truth. About Sly Cooper, the true reason he is after what we’ve taken from him, and…the decision I made, six years ago, to protect us. To protect you.”

Jing slowly sank down from the bed onto the floor across from him. She felt no joy or relief that she was finally going to have an explanation for everything – only dread for the unknown, and the understanding that this was something she would never be able to return from.

But she would not back away from it. She owed Sly that much, if nothing else.

“Start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

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

A/N: I'M BACK.

And just in time to post a record-breaking chapter, too! Nearly 9K words of Jing King going through it, hoo. This poor girl had a lot to say, so much so that I'm actually going to post an extra little side story about her relationship with both Sly and her father through the years that Sly was living with them. Look for the first chapter of that sometime this week!

We're finally getting into my favorite part of this story: Panda King's level. I've got stuff planned for this section, folks. Oh yeah, in this verse, Jing is about a year and a half younger than Sly - she had her eighteenth birthday just a few short weeks before the events of this chapter. Not a super important detail but will certainly help put a few things in perspective down the line ;)

Thanks for all your patience, everyone, and thanks for reading!

#sly cooper #carmelita fox #fanfiction #the lines we cross

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lespetitspoisons · 2 years

Text

Steven Grant Rogers And baby, be a simple, real simple man, be something you love and understand.

Brooklyn Lynyrd Skynyrd - Simple Man Mama told me, when I was young, come sit beside me my only son, and listen closely to what I say, and if you do this it'll help you some sunny day. Oh take your time, don't live too fast, troubles will come and they will pass. Mac DeMarco - Freaking out the neighborhood Sorry mama ! There are times I get carried away. Please don't worry, next time I'm home, I'll still be the same. And I know it's no fun when your first son gets up to no good, starts freaking out the neighborhood. Salt-N-Peppa - Whatta Man Secure in his manhood cause he's a real man, a lover and a fighter, and he'll knock another out. Don't take him for a sucker 'cause that's not what he's about. Everytime I need him, he always got my back, never disrespectful, cause his mama taught him that. Charlelie Couture - Aime moi encore au moins Les murmures insolents sous les draps, et la main dans la main sur ce grand lit bancal, je vendrais tous mes privilèges pour un dernier baisé dans la lumière pâle. Et aime moi, encore au moins, jusqu'à l'aurore, jusqu'au petit matin.

Europe Chet Baker - But not for me I was a fool to fall and get that way. Heigh ho ! Alas ! And also lack-a-day, although I can't dismiss the memory of her kiss, I guess she's not for me. Magic Sam - I need you so bad Yes, I've been looking inside trying to find someone to call my own, but without your love, pretty baby, I would rather be left alone. I know my luck has been bad, it's been bad so many days. Etta James - Stormy weather Don't know why, there's no sun up in the sky, stormy weather since my man and I ain't together. Keeps raining all of the time. Life is bare, gloom and misery everywhere, stormy weather and I just can't get my poor self together, oh I'm weary all of the time.

2012 Cage The Elephant - Cold Cold Cold Doctor, the problem's in my chest, my heart's as old as ice, but it's anybody's guess. Doctor can you help me 'cause I don't feel right ? Better make it fast before I change my mind. Billie Holiday - Solitude In my solitude, you taunt me with memories that never die. I sit in my chair and filled with despair, there's no one could be so sad. With gloom everywhere, I sit and I stare. I know that I'll soon go mad in my solitude, I'm praying, dear Lord above, send back my love.

The winter soldier Pink Floyd - Wish you were here Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a leading role in a cage ? How I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls, swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found ? The same old fears. Wish you were here. Alain Bashung - Je t'ai manqué Et si l'on disait le contraire, ou si l'on ne disait rien, si l'on construisait les phrases à l'envers ou si l'on soulevait demain, qui serait l'adversaire ? Entre nous qui serait le plus malin ? Je t'ai manqué, pourquoi tu me visais ? Harry James - It's been a long long time Haven't felt like this, my dear, since can't remember when. It's been a long long time, you'll never know how many dreams I dream about you, or how empty they all seem without you. William Sheller - J'me gênerais pas pour dire que j't'aime encore On partageait les fins de nuits difficiles, les petits jours, les rues tranquilles, j'te prêtai mon chapeau quand il pleuvait trop fort. J'me gênerais pas pour dire que je t'aime encore, que je t'aime d'abord, que je t'aime encore.

Civil war Creedence Clearwater Festival - Who'll stop the rain Long as I remember, the rain been comin' down, clouds of mystery pouring confusion on the ground, good men through the ages trying to find the sun. And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain ? Willis - I think I like when it rains You told me to go the light, and what it's like to feel the pain, now I'm okay ir you're alright. I start to wonder why I came, I dreamed of things you said to me. We stayed at your place while it rains, we talk and laugh and watch TV, and I couldn't find the words, I couldn't think of what to say. And all I can do is stop and think about the day when we all used to dream about was meeting after school. Adele - Can I get it ? Throw me to the water, I don't care how deep or shallow, because my heart can pound like thunder, and your love can set me free. Oh I have promised I will love you till the end of the time, through it all, the good, the bad, the ugly and the divine. I will be the melody, the rythm and your rhyme, all I want is for you to be mine. So can I get it right now ?

#c: steve rogers #bande originale

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forthechubbies · 3 years

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Mrs.Jeon Vol. 7

Synopsis• One nightstand gone Marriage!? The past catches up with Yn when her head over heels husband finds his lost bride and will keep her by any means necessary.

Category's• RomCom, Comedy, Manhandling, and a scary possessive Jungkook.

Duos• Yandere Jungkook! X Chubby! Reader

TheTagTeam✨ @lolalee24 @mwitsmejk @mcusuperfreak @jinswifeyy @transparentprinceblr @flowery-hope @agustdboyoongie @ilovethewayyourheartbeats @mochiarcher @toughbook @couldadepressedpersondothis @omgsuperstarg @joonado @97cityy

Vol. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 6

I can feel the bruises forming on my wrist. “Ouch! Let go!”

A loud crack in the sky followed by a low rumble froze you two in place followed by a frenzy of freezing droplets drenching your souls. Not caring much about himself, Jungkook sacrificed his favorite sweater, taking it off his back to throw over your head and rush you to the patio door.

You didn't share a passing glance to the men chowing down dinner in the living room, far too embarrassed by your soaked state to even think about stopping.

Slam

Now all eyes are on Jungkook. “Care to explain? You insolent boy.” Already fed up with Jungkook’s disobedient behavior, Jin stood to face the young man. “ How many times do I have to repeat myself!? Stay away from the girl-”

“She was looking for her glasses.” Jungkook attempted to bite back the tone in his voice but his temper was wearing thin. “She came outside on her own-I didn’t do anything so get off my back, old man.”

“Pffft-”

“Ahem”

The other members of the Maknae gang chuckled just to be silenced by Namjoon’s death stare.

Jin gasped. “You little menace! Where do you get off talking to your elders like that?!!!” He clapped, weaponizing a rolled-up piece of newspaper.

Wack.

Jin disciplined Jungkook across his head. “Ever since Yn arrived here you’ve been nothing but a bowl of disrespect and attitude.” Wack “I don't know what your deal is, young man but you better fix it.”

Nothing but silence here, Everybody watched Jin Vs. Jungkook but nobody dared to step in.

The heat steaming off Jungkook’s flushed ears raised higher while he opened his mouth to speak. “Hit me one time. I dare you.”

“My pleasure-” Jin cocked back his hand, about to deliver a hard wack across Jungkook’s face but was stopped by Namjoon.

“Enough, There’s a hurricane warning right now and we with the ocean in our backyard should look alive which means we have better things to do than watch the both of you fight.” Namjoon calmly informed.

Few Silent Minutes Later

“Wah! It's really coming down.” Taehyung sat by the patio door admiring the hostile winds and rough rainfall. “Jimin-ah!”

Jimin hopped to Taehyung's side and watched mother nature let out her aggression.

“WAH!!!”

“Get away from the windows” Yoongi nagged. “And where do you think you're going, Boy?”

Jungkook flinched. “-going to change out of my wet clothes.”

“Oh, lucky for you, We thought ahead of time and put your clothes in the guest room..down here.”

Jungkook smiled restraining from letting out the biggest sigh of his life. “Thank you, Hyung. I will go change then.”

“I never thought I would see Jungkook as a lovesick puppy in my life and yet here we are.” Yoongi hiked upstairs but not before challenging the elders of the maknae line with a task. “ Make sure, You two watch Jungkook, he is not allowed upstairs under any circumstances.”

“Uh-huh.” In one ear and out the another, The boys went back to the window continuing to be entertained by mother nature's wrath.

Yoongi moaned. “Just watch him, please. I'm going to go call Namjoon and them to see if they're okay out there-Why would they decide now is the best time to get first aid is beyond me.”

Knock Knock

Yoongi softly knocks referring from frightening you into the mistaking him for Jungkook. “Yn, Are you alright?” Not being the biggest fan of human interaction, He took your silence as an invitation to go away but something deep down bothered him enough to force him to stay by the door. “ Hello?!”

Maybe you are in the bathroom?-No, something is wrong.

“I’m coming in, Ok?” Yoongi announced, coming to find out there's no one's insight...Damn, are you actually in the bathroom just to make sure-Knock Knock.

“Yn, Are you okay?”

No answer

Yoongi groaned knowing the dreadful next step. He slowly opened the door ensuring the creaking door alert you that he was coming in. To his dismay, There you were collapsed on the bathroom tile.

“Yn!” Yoongi fell to his knees. You were burning to the touch, your entire body felt like it had the potential to burst into flames at any second. “Jungko-! Jim-Taehyung! Somebody get the doctor on the phone!”

Hearing Yoongi’s distress call from upstairs. The boys scrambled to do what they were told.

…..

“This little lady is malnourished. Yep, based on the information you guys told me. All this ‘excitement’ plus her not eating is taking-”

“She has eaten…I think?” Jung-kook interrupted his confidence dead down at the thought. “ Well, I think so..I didn’t see her.”

“Right. Have any of you seen her eat since she’s been here?” Taking their silence as a ‘no’ Mr. Han let out a sharp sigh. “ In that case, I recommend monitoring her eating habits for now on alongside the prescription supplements I will provide and a strict high protein diet.”

Thirty to Fifty Minutes Later

“Is she still sleeping?”

“Yes, and Jungkook hasn’t left her side once.” Taehyung and Jimin stood in the door frame, gossiping. “He’s kinda cute when he’s like this-Puppy Kookie.”

Meanwhile, Jungkook zoned out the peanut gallery in the back maintaining his focus on you. He cursed himself for not seeing you were in peril earlier, what type of good-for-nothing husband wouldn't see the signs. “I’m sorry, my love.”

Forgetting his strength, Jungkook squeezed your hand a bit too hard for your liking causing you to flatter your lashes.

“Ow, Jungkook?...Guys?” They're heartbroken expression consumed the room and turn it grey. “What’s wrong-”

“You haven't been eating?”

“ Well-I um kinda forgot to-” You answered, sheepishly

“How do you forget eating?!”

“Yeah, that's like my second favorite thing to do.” Jungkook commented.

Puzzled, Jin asked. “But I made you lunch earlier today…What happened to it? Did you throw it away?”

You simply looked at the Maknae line.

“Ha, Funny story about that-Uh, Take it away, Kookie” Jimin passed the spotlight to Jungkook who passed it on to Taehyung with a little tilt of his head and Taehyung who was about to pass it on but realized their was one left but wall.

“We sorta ate her lunch…We didn’t know she didn’t eat anything this she’s been here.” They bow their heads in great shame.

“Pigs.” Yoongi added.

“Don’t be too harsh on them. I’m the one who fed them my lunch-“

“You’re no better, Young lady.” Whoa, Yoongi has the dad pants on. “We are going to finish dinner and we are going to watch you eat every bite.”

You shook your head quickly.

…….

Yn’s Pov

It’s nearly 1 am and it’s so lively. Everybody going through all this trouble just for me. Back at home, It was just me and the floorboards, I usually like my own company but I have to admit it…there’s a warm feeling when I’m around them.

“Ah.” Jungkook handled kimchi in his gloved hand offering me a taste test.

“Ah-Hmm! Tasty!” Pleased by my reaction, Jungkook reported to Jin the Kimchi was perfect. “What is Kimchi exactly?”

“Pickled Cabbage.” Jungkook answered, inching his way closer to my side.

Crash!

Thunderstorms! I hate thunderstorms-I didn't know they were so fierce here back at home they weren't as harsh...maybe being beside the sea has something to do with it-

Crash!

I gasped at the roar of thunder clashing against what sounded like the roof. Glancing around the room, I'm the only one shaken by the storm the boys are un-fazed and relishing in each other's company meanwhile I'm literally shaking...Maybe I'm just childish that's all. I mean come on how many people my age is terrified of thunderstorms.

I scoffed. Yep, I'm just being immature that's all.

Crash! Boom!

“Aish! That scared me.” Hobi hollered through their pitch-black home. The powers out-great! What else can go wrong besides me being frightened of both the dark and the thunderstorms?

My face was overcome suddenly by warmth and tenderness.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook's soften voice perforated my fears. “ It's alright. I'm here.”

He tugged me deeper into what I'm assuming is his chest. Why do I feel so relieved? Is it the warmth of his arms around me? Or the reality of me being by his side? I cursed my body for reacting to him before my mind could play catch up. My shaken nerves settled down as well as my fears.

He smells so sweet.

“Is everybody ok?” Namjoon’s flashlight became a beacon, illuminating the kitchen. “ Jin-hyung?”

“Here.”

“Yoongi-hyung?”

“Here.”

“Hoseok-hyung?”

“Here.”

“Taehyung and Jimin?”

“.....”

Namjoon flashed his light around but there was no sign of the two boys. “Jimin?! Taehyung!?”

“Ahh!!!!” They popped up from behind the sofa scaring the socks off Jin and Hoseok, they both took refuge behind Yoongi who was less than amused.

“Jimin.Taehyung.” Namjoon silently scolded them.

“Sorry, Hyung.”

Namjoon moved on. “Jungkook?”

“Here.”

“Ms. Yn”

“Oh here.”

“Good, I'm going to check the circuit and Yn will help me by finding some candles.” Namjoon smiled and walked off signaling to follow him.

“Of course.” Jungkook's arms loosen setting me free. “Where would the candles be-?”

“Jungkook loves you...I can't apologize enough for his behavior but I've never seen him like this with anyone besides us or his family. He treats you as if you're his treasure he keeps under lock and key. Usually, I could get some gist of Kook's next move but as of right now, he's unpredictable so for your safety, please don't do anything rash.” Namjoon whispered.

“Ok.” He's right. My wrist is still stinging from Jungkook grabbing me earlier but how long am I supposed to wait-what am I waiting for!? Jungkook to fall out of love with me? If he's been holding on to the thought of me for this long. I'm going to be stuck here forever. “Oh namjoon, I have a question-”

“I already ordered you a new one.”

“Huh?”

Namjoon turned towards me. “Your phone. It was broken beyond fixing when I found it so I just bought you a new one.” Did he just shrug off buying a new phone like it's nothing?

“Oh thank you. You didn't have too.”

“It’s the least I could.”

Aww. These guys are really something smart, kind, and-

“Oops” Namjoon breaks off the switch handle to the circuit breaker. “Um, Did-Did you find the candles? It's going to be a long night.”

And clumsy.

I giggled. “I found them.”

Two hours later, The boys passed out in the living room with their bellies full. Meanwhile, I'm stargazing thinking about what the hell is going with my life.

Narrative's Pov

Our little lady roamed inside retrieving a candle to light her way, the small sound of munching made her turn to the kitchen and reach for the light switch.

Click!

“Oh good, The lights are back on.”

Full-cheeked Jimin’s eyes went rounded as he was surprised by the lights.

“Hi, Jiminie, I guess you made room for seconds.”

He chuckled. “Did you eat well?”

“I did. You guys are very good cooks.”

“Thank you.”

Not knowing what else to say you said good night to Jimin and carried on. Without realizing Jimin’s eyes admiring your beauty and grace as your long nightgown trailed behind you while you made your way up to Jungkook's room.

Maybe your charm does greatly affect Busan men...I think Jimin might have a small crush on you.

I'm sorry if this chapter is boring but comments help me do better.

#jungkook #bts imagines #bts fanfic #yandere jungkook #yandere jungkook x reader #bts x chubby reader #jungkook x chubby reader #ot7 x chubby #chubby reader

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lady-charinette · 3 years

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Got inspired by the one and only @ghostlyhamburger , who just went "I have this amazing dark idea but it's too dark for me" and I was foaming at the mouth to tackle it. So, whenever anyone has too dark/angsty ideas, send them my way :3

Also, go read her fics, you won't regret it at all. They're all absolutely amazing!

Credit to: @ghostlyhamburger

Warnings: Angst, verbal abuse, horrible parenting (hello, it's Gabriel), Senti!Adrien.

Forever Hold Your Peace

Gabriel knew it was a matter of time before his son entered his office with a request on his lips.

A request, unlike many, Gabriel was powerless to reject.

“Father, I wanted to tell you something.”

Hands clasped together with his brows furrowed in concern, Gabriel asked, “What is it, Adrien?”

He wished he could turn back time and never have his son utter the following words.

“I wanted to tell you to approve of my upcoming marriage to Marinette.”

With his throat running dry and his hand fiddling with his ring, Gabriel gestured towards the chair. “Sit down, Adrien.”

It had been three hours since Adrien Agreste had entered his father’s office, Nathalie had been keeping the young Ms. Dupain-Cheng company in the living area, both cautiously sipping from their warm tea in the otherwise icy atmosphere. Gorilla stood guard at the doors, Marinette wasn’t sure if he stood there to guard her from Gabriel Agreste’s upcoming rage or to guard the man from hers.

She knew this conversation wouldn’t be an easy one, knew that his father wouldn’t approve. She was determined to fight for her love after taking so long to realize it, she was willing to continue the fight even if her opponent was Gabriel Agreste himself.

“Your dress will wrinkle if you hold it for too long, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Nathalie’s pointed remark made Marinette immediately loosen her death grip on the fabric. She knew it would wrinkle all too easily, she designed it herself.

“Sorry,” was all that managed to leave Marinette’s mouth, before she placed the teacup closer to her parched lips. “It’s been…a while since he left.”

Nathalie nodded, sharp eyes glancing towards the closed door where her colleague stood guard. A knowing glance was all they shared before the secretary returned her attention to the young woman before her. “Mr. Agreste has never been one to rush important business.”

Marinette lowered her head, a small smile playing on her lips, “Business’, huh…” her previously nervous countenance changed.

Nathalie noticed her mistake, “Miss Dupain-Cheng, I-“

“I know,” when Marinette lifted her head to look at Nathalie, those blue eyes didn’t belong to the young lovestruck girl that stumbled her way into the home of the boy she crushed on anymore, they reminded her of Ladybug’s gaze when the heroine took charge in protecting the city against her enemies, “I’m aware Nathalie, I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

The teacup in the older woman’s hands trembled slightly before slender fingers gripped it tighter, knuckles turning white from the force applied on the delicate porcelain. Quietly, Nathalie whispered. “I wish that too.”

No sooner after the quiet confession did the doors to Gabriel’s office slam open.

Some would say Adrien Agreste was an open book to his friends and the public, but Marinette knew better when she saw the calm expression on her fiancé’s face.

And the practiced model smile on his lips.

The weather was sunny, setting the scene for an outdoor wedding perfectly.

The decorations were of the bride’s and groom’s own choosing; pure white calla lilies blended with the soft colors of green and blue, red rose petals were scattered across the aisle on the red carpet.

Sweet strains of classical music drifted through the crowd, Kitty Section outdoing themselves with bewitching their audience and charming their hearts. Luka’s violin playing, Juleka’s soothing guitar chords and Rose’s pleasantly soft vocals made the wedding deceptively harmonious.

Adrien Agreste was nothing short of perfection, dressed sharply in the most expensive suit he dared accept from his father, not a hair out of place as he waited for his bride. His father sat at the front row, eyes trained elsewhere while Nino nudged Adrien’s side to calm the groom’s nerves.

The music stopped, and all heads turned to face the far end of the walk. The opening to the bridal chorus started to play. Down the aisle she came.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Soon to be Agreste.

As the guests stood from their seats to welcome the bride and her father as they walked down the aisle, Gabriel Agreste was the only one whose expression didn’t match the joyous occasion.

His mind replayed the moments where he knew his son’s fate was sealed.

‘I will not allow you to marry Miss Dupain-Cheng!’

‘I didn’t come here to ask for your permission, father. I came to inform you of my decision.’

‘Don’t be smart with me, boy! I’ve granted you too much freedom since you went to school, you lack discipline.’

‘I’m no longer a child, father!’

‘You’re no longer a child of mine.’

‘Was that something you’ve always felt about me but never dared to say out loud for fear of me running away?”

‘I’ll not be disrespected in my own home, Adrien!’

‘This was never a real home to begin with.’

‘Insolent-! I will never bless this union, if all those years ago I had successfully changed your mother’s mind, you would’ve never been born.’

Closing his eyes, Gabriel took a deep, shuddering breath, fingers playing with the silver ring on his hand.

The guests were eerily silent, awaiting the vows with anticipation.

Gabriel watched the young bride be given to the son he disowned, watched the genuinely elated expressions on their faces with growing contempt.

As the marriage officiant began speaking and encouraging the couple to read their vows, all eyes were suddenly on the groom.

Marinette gazed at her fiancé in concern, eyes wide in surprise. “Adrien?”

Gabriel’s silver ring lay in shattered pieces on the floor, surrounded by rose petals on the blood red carpet and a single white feather resting peacefully between.

And with it a shattered future.

Thanks for reading! :3 I wonder...could this have the potential for a happy ending?

#miraculous ladybug #ml #adrien agreste #marinette dupaincheng #ml adrinette #adrinette #adrienette #ml au #ml fic #ml angst #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #senti adrien #sentimonster adrien #angst #my fic #my fics #ghostly you're a genius for this idea!#i loved writing it

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alia-turin-fanfiction · 2 years

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Cold

This is a Christmas present for someone very special. @mentoskova if you have not looked at her amazing art, you are missing out.

Rating: Explicit Category: F/M Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Relationships: Shiadhal/Eredin Bréacc GlasEredin Bréacc Blas/Shiadhal Characters: Shiadhal (The Witcher)Eredin Bréacc Glas Additional Tags: Magic, Ritual Sex, Ice Play, Femdom, Sex on Top, Older Woman/Younger Man

Summary:

Eredin, still a young soldier in the Red Riders encounters the Queen of the Wild Hunt

Eredin opened his eyes. Something was not right, very different…very unfamiliar. He was in his bed, but now he was not. He was in a cave, covered in snow and ice. He had never seen this place in his life. Must be a dream. He pinched his skin just above the left wrist and sharp pain ran through his body. Not a dream. How did he find himself here. He didn’t have his sword, nor his shirt for that matter, boots and pants were the only clothing on him. Funny, he didn’t really feel the cold. There were giant icicles hanging from the ceiling of the cave, frosting all over the walls, but he did not feel the piercing cold he would expect.

He looked back, the entrance of the cave was a faint image, he could see mountains, snow and some green. Was he in the mountains above Tir na Lia? And if yes, how did he get here without remembering? Most of these roads and passages were steep and could take days…

“I have not known you to be afraid, Eredin.” the voice echoed in the cave, the icicles vibrated like strings of a harp, they didn’t fall, but created a melody. He knew that voice, even if it was an echo, a distant song, he recognized it.

Eredin pinned his eyes forward, forgetting the entrance of the cave and walked deeper. The stone hallway was getting wider with every step he took, the ice decorating the walls looked thicker but also more distant from him. There was chill around him, but not much different than the chill he would feel at night in Tir na Lia.

He stopped walking as he reached the end of the cave. Eredin was in a massive chamber, brightly lit, but there was no actual source of light that he could see, just snow and ice. In the furthest end there was a throne, built of sharp ice and on it there was a woman.

“Shiadhal.” he greeted with a smile on his lips. Her pale hairs looked as if shining, reflecting the coldness of the snow and turning it into starlight. The dress she was wearing looked more like a veil of ice, flexible like any clothing, but so transparent she might as well not wear anything. “Why am I here?”

“Disrespectful.” She waved her hand and forced him on his knees. He could feel the snow soaking his pants, the first time he felt actual cold. “I’m your queen.”

Eredin smiled again, mocking her words with his actions. He was walking on thin ice, literally and he knew it. She could probably decapitate him with a snap of her fingers, or turn him into an ice statue for some future generation to find and wonder what fool would walk half naked in a frozen cave.

Shiadhal got off her throne and slowly walked toward him, every step measured seduction, whatever game she was playing, it was working. Despite his inner need to be spiteful and mocking, there was desire growing in him. A need for his Queen. She was standing in front of him, Eredin still kneeling raised his head to look her in the eyes. He didn’t like that, he would bow and kneel for his King and Queen when needed, of course, like the good subject he was, but that did not mean he liked it. But there was a difference now, she had made him. There weren’t many who could make him do anything.

“Tell me what you want.” she ran her hand through his face, the coldness of her fingers was piercing, her nails scratching his skin like a housecat that was having too much fun with its favorite toy.

“Where should I start…” he licked his lips.

“Insolent.” she slapped him, it wasn’t hard hit, but strong enough to remind him who he was. However she did reach for the top straps of her dress and pulled the cloth down. Not that it made much of a difference that fabric didn’t really hide anything. “How about the Red Riders?”

His smile grew wider. All his life he had a dream. He would be the strongest, he would hold the key to their lives, to their future…that and the Red Riders. He was a simple soldier now, but one day he could be the king of the Red Riders. That day could be today.

“Greedy.” she knelt in front of him, her face right now was just an inch from his. “What if I can give you that?”

“You have never given anything for free, my queen.” he felt dizzy, as if head been drinking or taking some sort of a drug. She was doing something to him, but he was not sure what. “What do you want?”

“Servitude.” she pushed him, his back hitting the snow. “Obedience.” She sat on top of him, her hips framing his legs. “Are you capable of that?”

“No.” he reached for her legs, but as he touched the skin she slapped him again, harder.

“You should know your place, Eredin.” her fingers reached for the laces of his pants doing short work of them and pulled his belt away. With one soft move she pushed herself on his length, making an unexpected moan groan come out of his lips.

Eredin was enchanted, not by actual magic, but by her. He wasn’t blind, he wanted her, he had always wanted her, but she was the Queen and she had a King. Not that any of that could ever stop him, but he also had ambitions bigger than his physical pleasure.

She moved effortlessly on top of him, he tried to move his hips to meet her move, to get more friction, but she pushed him down, pinning him in one place. He was just a toy for her and she was doing everything in her power to show him exactly that. He wanted to laugh, all his life, he had been in her role, he had played, commanded and tricked. Now it was his turn to be played with, commanded and tricked. He didn’t mind, he would just add it to his list of things he had to correct down the road.

“You are so young…” she moaned, running her hand up his abdomen to his chest. He was barely even a hundred compared to her, he was a child. “So much potential.” Shiadhal’s other hand reached for his chest, holding a triangular piece of ice as big as his hand. The uneven edges made it work more like a dagger. “Do you want the Red Riders?”

“Yes…” he moaned, despite the slow rhythm she had picked, he could feel himself getting closer with every move of her hips.

“You will have to obey.” she pressed the tip of the ice against his skin, just over his heart and then she pushed, hard. His mind was fog of pleasure and panic, he was not feeling pain and there was no blood, but he watched that giant piece of ice going in his chest, inch by inch, until finally her palm was all that was left pressing against his skin. Eredin’s orgasm came at that same moment, his mind turning into complete fog, blankness of ecstasy and release crawling through him.

When he opened his eyes Shiadhal just pushed herself up, as if nothing had happened. With an elegant move she put her dress back on and walked to the throne. Eredin touched his chest, no wound, but there was a skar there now, long pink line, as long as the piece of ice had been.

“What was that?” he asked as he got up, trying to fix his pants, but his fingers were numb from the cold. Only now he was actually feeling the weather around himself.

“You will not betray me, soldier.” Shiadhal smiled as if she had seen some secret in his head that even he was not aware of. “But you will be a General.”

Eredin woke up in his own bed. At first he thought it was a dream, it must have been. He pulled the blankets away just to see the new scar on his chest. He was also in bed with his boots and pants. His clothing wet and cold, the soles of his boots as well. That bitch had used magic to drag him wherever she had dragged him. He was angry at first, but then he smiled. One step closer and the world would be his one day.

#eredin breacc glas #shiadhal #wild hunt #the witcher #eredin

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

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princessofguineapigs · 3 years

Text

How Can I Refuse Part 1 | Tom Holland

rated: PG-13 for suggestive language, abuse

a/n: slight inspiration from Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper, namely, the pauper part.

words: 1.1 k

“The girl will service all your needs,” Mr. Latreille told the stranger. “And I do mean all of them.” You didn’t dare to look at either man as you made up the bed in the guest chambers. Catching the eye of Mr. Latreille often meant trouble. He considered it disrespectful for servants to make eye-contact. This out of town guest had asked for an extended stay, but you didn’t know much beyond that.

You flipped up the duvet as the young man gave his thanks to your owner. Your arrangement was temporary. You had agreed to eight years of indentured servitude to save your family. Currently, you were a little over three years into your contract.

“Do you need help?” the guest asked you.

You turned. “Oh, no, sir. I’ll get out of your way.” You fluffed the last pillow and dipped out of the room. Your tasks were hard, but today they were made easier as you daydreamed about the handsome stranger. You kept playing over the simple question he’d asked. Do you need help? He would never know how much those words cheered you up, even if you couldn’t accept his help. You rushed through your normal duties, polishing the cabinets, scrubbing the floors, doing the wash.

With a little bit of time to spare before you needed to prepare supper for Mr. Latreille, you decided to fix a meal for the new guest.

You scurried up the servants’ stairs with a tray of beet soup and biscuits for the kind man staying in the guest suite.

Strangely, you found yourself hoping that the gentleman would enjoy the food you prepared. You couldn’t explain why you suddenly felt the need to impress him. It’s not like he would ever look twice at a mousy thing like you. Balancing the tray in one hand, you rapped on his door lightly.

“Come in,” the man called.

“Excuse me, sir. I thought you might be hungry.” You curtsied lightly, mindful of the tray.

“Please, call me Tom,” the man said as you set the tray down on the nightstand. “What’s your name?”

As you parted your lips to answer, Mr. Latreille stomped through the door you had forgotten to close.

“Mr. Holland, how are your accommodations?” he asked.

“They’re good. Your waitstaff is taking excellent care of me,” Tom said.

At that, Mr. Latreille noticed you. “Don’t you have chores to do, girl? You’re not needed here.”

“Actually, I’d like you to stay,” Tom said.

“Of course, Tom,” you replied.

CRACK

The blow delivered to your face was from the hand of Mr. Latreille and the force of it knocked you to the ground. “Insolent slut! Never address your betters as anything other than ‘sir’!” he screamed at you. He made to strike you again.

“STOP!” Tom shouted.

Mr. Latreille gave him a withering look, smoke coming from his ears, his face was the same shade as the beets you’d prepared for Tom’s soup.

“I want to use her later,” Tom lied. “I don’t want her face marked up.”

“Very well,” Mr. Latreille said. He exited the room abruptly and slammed the door behind him.

“I won’t hurt you,” Tom said after Mr. Latreille left. “Please, tell me your name, angel.”

“It’s Y/N, sir,” you said.

“Y/N, a fitting name for a beautiful creature like you. And you don’t have to call me sir. Tom is still fine when we’re alone, but we’ll keep up appearances in front of your boss, hmm?”

You nodded and dared to meet his gaze for only an instant. It was a mistake. Tom’s warm, inviting eyes drew you in and held you there. An instant became a second and a second became a moment as you stared deeper into his walnut brown eyes.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Tom asked, patting the spot beside him on the bed.

You joined him and he reached out a hand toward your face. You flinched automatically. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” he asked.

“Stings a little,” you said. Tom caressed your face gently, ghosting over the red mark.

“Sister Kalina, at the Abbey, says that when we are wronged we should turn the other cheek, but I am always too afraid to offer the other cheek,” you said.

“No one should ever harm you, Y/N. Least of all, men. Why do you work for that awful man?”

“I have to. I have no choice. He owns me, at least for the next five years,” you said.

Tom looked at you in horror. “Owns you? What do you mean? How can he own another person?”

You folded your hands in your lap. “In the beginning, when my family first moved here, we were very poor,” you started to explain. “And Mr. Latreille let us live here while my parents worked for him. They worked hard, but soon they racked up debts. They never had enough to provide for me and my brother, so they kept borrowing money from Mr. Latreille.”

Tom reached for your left hand and held it in his own.

“If it hadn’t been for his generosity, we would have been on the streets. The debts piled higher and higher. Mr. Latreille grew angry and threatened to have my parents thrown in jail if they didn’t pay what they owed in full.”

Tom wasn’t sure how to comfort you, but he knew he wanted to, so he lightly rubbed circles on your hand with his thumb.

“Because they didn’t have the money, Mr. Latreille said if they could trade something of equal value, he would consider their debt paid. My parents said they didn’t have anything. That if they had anything like that they would sell it and give him the money. That’s when he suggested they give him me. He told them that if they left me here to work for him for eight years, he would call it even and let me go. He turned them out then because he was no longer willing to house them and forced them to leave the city. If they return before my indentured servitude is complete, he will have them jailed.”

Tom squeezed your hand in his. “I’m sorry about your misfortune. How do you deal with such an awful situation?”

You smiled sadly. “My heart escapes when I can’t.”

Tom’s gaze on your face was forlorn. “I’m going to help you, Y/N. However I can.”

Before you could thank him, a bellowing voice jolted you. “GIRL! MY FIRE NEEDS TENDING!”

You glanced at Tom apologetically. “The help is summoned,” you said. “Ring or holler if you need anything.” In a rustle of petticoat and apron, you were out the door and down the servants’ stairs. As you scampered off to your chores, your thoughts dwelled on the handsome kind stranger, and his promise of aid.

Meanwhile, Tom vowed to himself that he would find a way to break your bonds of servitude.

Part 2

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland series #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #indentured servant!reader

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alj4890 · 3 years

Note

I have an ask. We know in TRR Book 3 Ch10 Drake is the one being challenged by Neville but what if The King is the one to challenge Neville? After all he’s the one that would talk down to Riley during book 3 and nit once did Liam stand up for her during those times? So I wonder if Liam knew what Neville had said to his future Queen what would his reaction would be. I feel at least that Riley had the choice to punch him! Lol

A/N: Okay, seriously. WHY didn't all the other love interests tell Neville off?! He even annoyed Olivia with his pouting and whines. I get the tension between him and Drake and all; but Neville was talking bad behind Liam's back about his choice to elevate MC to becoming a duchess regardless of whether or not she was engaged to Liam. He was such a jerk to Hana and who in their right mind could be mean to her??? As protective and sacrificial as Maxwell was, (he did show getting ticked off whenever Neville opened his mouth), why wasn't there a dance fight between the two🤣 Now that my mini rant is over, let's see what would happen if Neville pushed Liam too far.

Masterlist

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg

Too Far

It wasn't noticeable at first.

He even somehow managed to make friends.

Neville had a way that made him appear as the perfect example of a gentlemanly noble. His cultured tone uttering compliments and his ability to appear humble before his betters had assured his place within Cordonia's high society. Being heir to an earldom and not too horrible to look upon also set him up in life to have a variety of ladies to choose from.

Or so he believed.

When Prince Leo abdicated, the nobles of Cordonia were actually laughed at by the rest of the world. The teasing began with mere good natured ribbing at parties of how unfaithful a Cordonian must be.

It was enough to sour any disposition, especially one that was already so.

Neville Vancoeur kept his noble mask firmly in place. Nothing was going to stop him from his destiny.

Nothing. No one.

But the newest crown prince was best friends with, it was disgusting simply thinking of the word, a commoner. A commoner! What noble much less a direct descendant of the king himself would ever align themselves with someone who was absolutely worthless

Yet, the embarrassment that was Prince Liam didn't end there. He then went on to favor a poor waitress from America of all places. A waitress. He redeemed himself in Neville's eyes when he chose Countess Madeleine Amaranth of Fydelia to be Cordonia's queen. Though he didn't quite understand why the normally shrewd countess would allow the waitress to travel with the nobility, perhaps it was to give Drake Walker a playmate (one has to entertain pets, he supposed) he accepted it as a way to appease the people they ruled over.

Then New York happened. King Liam threw aside a well respected, birthed to perfection noble for that mongrel American who did not possess the first clue of how to behave amongst Cordonia's elite court.

Neville would have found it humorous if he was not permanently tied to his country.

To top it all off, not only was he forced to endure such unworthy company, he was shamed in front of them by some minor noble who had failed to win Liam. He blamed that brief moment of weakness for finding Lady Hana attractive on being inadvertently influenced by what had to be Drake and Riley's baser inclinations.

There was only one action left to a man so much more above these lowly peasants.

He was going to have to put these people in their proper place.

*******************

Liam knew that some of his fellow nobles took their positions as some sort of right in lording over those they considered their inferiors. It had never sat easy with him. He himself had a mother who had been a, "simple commoner". Yet, being in the tenacious situation he was in as a new king, he had to ignore for the most part their rude behavior.

But there was only so much he could stand when it came to the one he loved.

He knew something was going on the night of Madeleine's ball. As he stood on the other side of the ballroom, listening to Duke Godfrey drone on and on, he noticed Drake bump into the future earl. He knew there were very few nobles his best friend respected so seeing the flash of anger was normal.

Riley's though was surprising.

That unusual bitter twist to her normal, friendly smile followed by what he could only assume were heated words between his love and Neville made him feel the need to rush over and place himself between them. That desire to protect Riley was so strong that his body had already turned to leave Godfrey mid sentence.

But then Neville walked away.

Maxwell's brief sadness followed by Hana's irritation had him focusing once more on Riley's anger turning to resigned acceptance. Her relaxed stance returned as his group of friends found a table to sit and enjoy their meal.

He knew then that he would need to keep an eye on Lord Neville for the rest of the Unity Tour.

*****************

It didn't surprise him at all the insults and tension between Drake and Neville during the charity polo match. Liam felt sorry for Rashad and Maxwell being stuck on their team and forced to work with the two men that seemed to truly despise one another.

Liam also felt a large bit of pride when Riley used Neville's refusal to pass to Drake to score.

He also was relieved that Neville had not turned his disdain toward her.

Perhaps he was beginning to respect his future queen.

**************

It shouldn't have affected Liam like it did. Maybe it was the fact he was under so much pressure from keeping his father's cancer hidden, the fear from hearing he had been rushed to the hospital, all the terrorist attacks and threats, and then having to focus on pampered nobles instead of actually running his kingdom that caused him to lose his last shred of patience.

This ball was one that he had looked forward to. It would be the first of his escorting his Riley before the court. He had waited so long for such a moment to show his world how proud he was to have won her heart.

And Neville had to ruin it during their first dance.

The heated exchange of words escalated when Riley jumped in to defend Drake. Liam could see the utter hatred and lack of respect Neville had for the two people he was closest to. The way the young lord talked down to his beloved sent a bitter resolve through Cordonia's king.

"I've had enough of your insolence!" Neville snapped.

Liam saw his hand reach for his pocket and begin to withdraw a white glove. Before he could think through what he was about to do, he slapped Neville with the back of his hand, cutting short the challenge the lord was about to issue to Drake.

The entire court gasped. Silence fell as all watched this rare occurrence of Liam losing his temper.

"I've had enough of your insolence." Liam bit out. "Lord Neville, I challenge you to a duel."

Neville paled. His eyes darted around the ballroom, searching for anyone who might possibly be on his side. Seeing no sympathy, his chin lifted.

"I accept." His voice cracked slightly.

****************

"Liam, why are you doing this?" Riley gripped his hand as they walked out to the courtyard.

"I'm tired of his attitude." Liam explained. "Especially around you."

"I can handle his snide remarks." She countered. "What I can't handle is the thought of you possibly getting hurt."

Liam paused and slipped his arm around her waist. "You don't think I can take him?"

She smiled, looping her arms around his neck. "I know you can." She snared him with a tender kiss. "Just make it fast. There's a certain king I want to slow dance with."

His lips curved once more before turning toward the growing crowd. "As my queen wishes, so it shall be."

With a wink to her, he removed his sword from its sheath with a dramatic flourish.

Her delighted laughter followed him as he faced his opponent.

Neville swallowed uncomfortably as Constantine laid out the rules for the duel.

He barely managed to block Liam's blows, footsteps retreating most of the time. His lip curled into a snarl when the new king sliced into his blazer.

"My lady was right," Liam taunted, "that is a dreadful dinner jacket."

Neville's cheeks burned when those watching nearby chuckled. Each time he tried to make an offensive strike, Liam not only blocked it but somehow turned it into a point in his favor.

At one point they locked swords. Neville hated he had to tilt his head up to meet Liam's eyes. He hadn't expected to see the coldness there.

"You will apologize to Riley and Drake." Liam commanded in a low tone. "You will also never speak to either of them with such disrespect again."

"Why should I?" Neville breathed. "They need to learn to respect their betters."

"Really?" Liam's tone held a sinister edge.

With an elegant spin that happened in the blink of an eye, he knocked his opponent’s sword out of his hand, caught it in mid air with his free one, and had both blades crossed with Neville's neck in the middle.

"Well done!" Constantine cheered from the sideline.

Riley let out a whoop as she hurried over to Liam's side.

"Wasn't there something you wished to say to her grace, Lord Neville?" Liam asked

Neville's ready sneer died when he felt a slight nick to his tender skin.

"Forgive me, your grace." He managed to say without choking. "I will remember my manners when next we meet."

Riley gave a regal nod of acceptance.

Liam lowered the swords. "You're dismissed."

Neville scurried through the amused crowd, keeping his eyes downcast.

Riley yanked Liam into a passionate kiss once all the compliments were given and the crowd dispersed.

"My lady?" He asked with a grin. "What brought that on?"

"Nothing except my impressive Prince Charming fighting for me." She responded. "Perhaps he would like to find somewhere more private where I can better express my admiration."

"As you wish." He handed his swords to a servant as the couple sneaked away for a moment alone.

#king liam x riley #liam x riley #choices fanfic writers creations #choices the royal romance #liam trr #request #choices fic writers creations

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sooibian · 3 years

Text

Wherever You Are

Pairing: Kai x You as Lys ft. Baekhyun, Minseok, Yixing

Description: When you least expect it, love, quite literally, sweeps you off your feet

Themes: Romani AU, magical realism, romance, angst, drama ™ (i grew up on a healthy dose of Bollywood and it! shows!), secret relationship, heavily influenced by Mmmh Kai

Warnings: Blood, weapons, violence

Word Count: +9.5k (i’m sorry i haven’t had the time to proof-read this at all)

Tagging: @changshapatrol @rosetvler @bbyunz @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @royal-aeris @bbhmystar @his-mochi-cheeks @littleflowercrown13

Part of the Steampunk Romani AU collab with @leewalberg @vampwrrr @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme

Pre-reading notes:

1. This is a spin-off for Lys from Star-Crossed but it can be read as a standalone oneshot. I’ve tried my best to translate the events of that fic into Lys’ POV but feel free to shoot me a message if something still confuses you.

2. Lys is a mind-reader, Baekhyun has the ability to influence physical objects with his mind, Yixing is a dragon and he’s the leader of the clan (Bulibasha), and Kai - as we all know - can teleport!!

3. Glossary: bulibasha - clan leader, dado - father, dya - mother, gadjo - someone of non-romani descent / origin, dragă - darling, iubirea mea - my love, lautari - a group of romani musicians, zakono - a key institution for enforcing the Romani Code.

“Dado, can I go along with Minseok?”

“Where to, dragă?”

“To the horse fair....the one in the village?”

“That’s no place for a pretty princess such as yourself -”

“But..but.. dado!”

“The camp has everything you’ll ever need, dragă.”

You woke up to the same old chirping of crickets, the same old crimson, black, and gold panels draping your tent, the same old wine stained goblet on your nightstand, the same old aroma of steamed xaimoko and hearty cornbread, and... the same old stinging in your heart.

Lips stretched into a habitual wide grin, you greeted the lass who brought you dinner with a drawn out “Morning”.

“It’s seven in the evening, Lys. You know how your father feels about you sleeping during sunset!” Vera exclaimed and gathered her skirts to sit on the edge of your bed, her gentle fingers combing through to untangle knots in her mistress’ long, dark hair.

Having mastered the art of repressing the emotions that threatened to colour your expression at the mere mention of your father, feigning excitement, you took her hand in yours and coyly quizzed her on the topic she was dying to discuss, “Tell me more about the whitesmith boy, Vera? Did he prove to be,” you cleared your throat and said in a hushed whisper, “worth his mettle?” and drew the question out with a roaring laughter.

“Hush, Lys!” Said Vera bashfully, biting on her lower lip to suppress the smile that was beginning to form on her mellow, innocent face. The whitesmith boy, better known as Kris, was the clan’s most eligible bachelor until yesterday.

Young girls, in pairs or trios, would hide behind the shrubbery by the river to catch a glimpse of him shirtless, bring him bent out of shape wares to fix and polish - even the ones whose weights their delicate hands couldn’t bear - and watch him at his job for hours at an end as sweat would drip down his neck, making his light, cotton shirt cling onto his well defined back.

As any young man his age would, Kris surely enjoyed the attention but he didn’t thrive on it. His heart belonged solely to his beloved. He settled for the most simple woman, some would say for the want of a better word, but you were convinced that none of them had experienced the sweetness that was love.

You had - but only vicariously. Love, trust, anticipation, joy - all vicariously. The only emotions you truly understood, first-hand, were longing, anger, and sadness.

“Lys?” A finger poking into your side broke you out of your reverie.

“Hmm?”

“I said, yes.”

“What for?” You asked, an innocent eyebrow raised in question.

She only giggled in response and darted out of your tent. Grinning wide, you turned to your meal and just then the aggressive tramp of horses’ hooves and sharp, piercing cries of pain and fear from men, women, and children reached your ears. Before you could make sense of the situation, your shell-shocked eyes followed Vera’s body as it fell inside your tent with a dull thud, an arrow pierced through her chest.

Your dinner tray toppled over as you ran to her aid and struggled with the bitter truth that you could do nothing to breathe life into the one person out of the very few that truly cared for you. With your hand on her teared stained cheek, you listened to her conscience ferociously chant, dya...dya...take care of dya!

“I will, Vera. I promise to take care of your mother.”

Only when she was reassured did Vera allow life to drain out of her eyes while tears started to line yours and grief clawed at your throat. You began to drag her limp body towards the bed and it wasn’t long before a familiar face barged into your tent. Throwing his crossbow to the side, your brother helped you hoist Vera��s body up onto your bed.

“What’s going on -”

“We’ve been attacked by a group of dacoits. Stay inside. Whatever happens, do not leave your tent! You understand me?” Minseok commanded, his dark eyes piercing yours while blood trickled down the side of his face.

“You’re hurt -”

He shook his head and repeated, panic betraying his voice, “Just... stay safe, Lys. Will you?”

Breaking down into sobs you nodded frantically as the ugly realisation of loss washed over you. Minseok pulled you into a tight embrace, praying fervently, “It could’ve been you. It could’ve been you instead of - of Vera! Thank God! Thank God, it wasn’t you!”

His every word felt like a punch in the gut.

He then marched out with his crossbow in hand, vengeance in his eyes and your heart clenched with fear for your brother’s life. Hiding behind the entrance panels, you watched the scene outside.

The settlement was barren except for the dacoits and a handful of men from the clan out on the field; the rest had scurried into the safe confines of their caravans and tents. Men on horseback, dressed in black robes, had their faces covered in black scarves. They spoke a different tongue but you understood that they sought revenge. A life for a life, they repeated over and over in broken Romani. They menacingly circled Baekhyun with arrows and daggers pointed to his heart. Baekhyun’s stance was alert with his jamdhar in his hand as a majestic black and gold dragon hovered over them, a tattered body dangling from his spine chilling, bloody mouth.

It happened within a matter of seconds - the dacoits lay slain - some with arrows pierced through their chests, some eviscerated into smithereens and the rest crumbled to black dust - the doing of Minseok, Baekhyun, and Yixing respectively.

With one flap of his massive wings, Yixing descended, gracefully landing on his human feet as a man-servant trotted to his aid with a black robe to cover his modesty yet, very little was left to imagination.

“They really thought -”

Before Yixing could complete his sentence, an unconscious Baekhyun collapsed - right in the centre of the bloody chaos. That jamdhar is going to be his undoing, you said to yourself. A girl with dark unruly hair rushed to his side - your fiancé’s side - the sight turning your limbs to ice.

Your heart sank to your stomach but the edges of your mouth curled up in a smile as you met her eyes from a distance with sheer contempt in your own.

A man you didn't recognise, supported by two others on either side, was being ushered into Yixing's private chamber.

You felt a hand against the small of your back. Minseok whispered into your ear, "Dado wants to see you."

***

In the centre of the room slouched a man on a wooden chair, his hands roped together at the back, face bruised and bloodied - evidently the doing of your own brother.

“What’s all this?” You asked the three men surrounding him.

“The bandits left their dog behind,” spat Yixing.

“So? What am I supposed to do?” You directed the question to your father.

“We need to know who he is, where he’s from, and...why we were attacked.” Replied your father, eyes forcefully trained on the unconscious man on the chair.

“You should’ve probably left him with some life in his body to answer your questions.” You said to Minseok indignantly.

“Lys!” Your father was prepared to reprimand you at your insolence in front of Bulibasha.

“Dado - ”

“Lys, just hold his hand and tell us what he’s thinking.” Minseok tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with his calm voice.

“I have better things to do than hold a gadjo’s hand and listen to the filth of his mind. I’ll leave you big and strong men to it.” You sauntered over to your father, the corner of your mouth raised in a smirk. Dusting the lint off of his magnificent black and red woollen cloak that was embroidered along the edges with the finest gold thread, you sang, “I’m nothing more than just a pretty princess, anway.”

“Lys, please!” Cried Minseok.

“What would you have me do, Minseok? Stay here with you all while my fiancé is canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?” You retorted.

Yixing shot you a puzzled glance while Minseok and your father averted their eyes.

"It’s known to be their usual hideout.” You half-shrugged at Yixing, your casual tone not doing much to ease the frown lines on his handsome face.

While you were busy squabbling with your family, the man on the chair lifted his head up, rope evidently cut loose with a push dagger, and immediately all four pairs of eyes turned to him. Underneath the caked blood and grime on his face, he flaunted golden skin, luscious lips, and sharp, distinct features. His eyes met yours and crinkled into crescents as his lips curved into a disrespectful smirk.

He gave you a casual two-finger salute goodbye and….vanished.

Breaking into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the three men caught unawares, you turned on your heels and merrily skipped out of Yixing’s private chamber.

The next morning found you by the river, still trying to wrap your head around the events of yesterday. ‘Thank God it wasn’t you!’ Your brother’s gentle voice rang ominously in your ears. ‘But what if it was?’ you reasoned with yourself, ‘Would it have meant being finally free or trapped in a permanent state of oblivion?’ In tune with your mind, your feet wandered, taking you deeper into the viridian forest.

You stumbled upon something stock-still and landed on your back causing that something to stir and wince in pain as it slowly regained consciousness. You crawled as far away from it as you could only to recognize him by the pleated black cummerband around his waist. The gadjo struggled to hold himself up and flattened to the ground again.

His agony brought you some solace as Vera’s ashen face flashed before your eyes. Laughing, you exclaimed, "So this is how far you managed to get! A stone's throw from Bulibasha's tent."

The man winced again but a smile began to form on his lips. "Wa-water," he breathed but you leisurely rested your back against the trunk of a nearby tree and denied his request with a little shake of your head, “A life for a life, gadjo. Repay your debt. Your people killed my friend.”

“Not- not my doing,” he said throatily and began dragging himself towards the river. He was sculpted like the dancers of a lăutari - long and lean, elegantly broader along the shoulders and chest and enviably slim around the waist.

You offered him no help. Instead, waited with a bated breath for his soul to escape him. But his snail’s pace had started to exasperate you. So you begrudgingly volunteered to bring him water as his dying wish.

“Here you go, gadjo. Seeing the way my brother beat you up, a sip or two of water won’t be of much help, anyway.” You sneered, holding the edge of the cupped leaf to his bruised lips.

As he drank, colour slowly returned to his ghost-white, bloodied face. “Kai,” he said in a voice that was husky and deep.

“What?”

“It’s my name. You’d do well to remember it.” His face lit up with a smile and his eyes found your thick golden anklet bejeweled with iridescent beads. He flicked the bead trinkets with his finger and squeezed his eyes shut as if in admiration of a great symphony.

Before you could even make sense of the situation...of him...he vanished again.

Kai, you mouthed, curled up in bed at midnight.

“Kai,” you said the gadjo’s name out loud, the tips of your fingers tracing the movement of your lips and despite yourself, blood began to warm your face. It had been a week since you met him in the forest but the man had capsized your mind. You inwardly admonished yourself for not killing him when you had the chance - it was the least you could’ve done for Vera - but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him.

You saw truth in his innocent yet compelling eyes.

A whirlpool of emotions rose in your chest as you tossed and turned in bed causing a bead of your anklet to tangle with a loose silk thread from your quilt. Groaning, you sat up to undo it, and heard a sudden, loud crack.

Kai had unexpectedly appeared, standing at the foot of your bed. Arms crossed over his chest and head tilted to the side, he smiled down at you.

Returning his smile, you said, “If I scream, there’ll be at least ten men here, in no time, with sharp objects pointed at your throat.”

Gaze intertwined with yours, Kai knelt before you as his deft fingers found the troublesome bead. Smirking, he slowly pushed the quilt out of the way, and you instinctively pulled your skirts down below your knees. His mouth found the loose thread and he bit on it to free you from the restraint as his warm breath fanned your ankle and his soft lips brushed ever so slightly against your skin. As delicate as the touch was, it felt like being imprinted with a blazing hot cast-iron.

“If you truly wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have saved my life. And I’m here to thank you for that,” he smiled, and took the bold step of sitting next to you, on your bed. He then clicked his tongue, fingers ghosting along the curve of your ankle, and piped cockily, “Besides, you know I’d vanish before your sluggish men even manage to get here.”

“You think you’re very brave, gadjo?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a fool for walking into the lioness’ den.”

His expression suddenly turned solemn. Studying your face intently, he whispered, “I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t -”

“You didn’t what?” Your heart thumped wildly in your chest in a rather desperate anticipation of his innocence. So you immediately placed your clammy hand upon his trembling, cold one.

His voice grew thick with anguish as he explained, “I didn’t know those men were going to storm your clan. I’d only met them that morning. They said they were traveling south and I - I really had nowhere to go so I joined them without giving it much thought. I was desperate for company.”

His words were very much in line with his thoughts and memories. Images of the dacoits just as you’d seen them that evening, their boisterous banter, their journey towards the settlement, the food and wine and spoils they shared along the way, all flashed before your eyes.

You knew a liar when you saw one - their features were drawn out a bit differently, you’d believed. Baekhyun was a liar. He’d lied when you had asked him if he loved you. But Kai on the other hand…

“At the time you didn’t realize that they were plunderers?” You asked delicately.

“All I understood was that they weren’t men of strong character. But I didn’t care for their morality. I knew I could protect myself if worse came to worst.”

“Why didn’t you simply run...vanish when they besieged my clan?” As hard as you tried, you failed to keep the edge off of your voice.

The pitch of Kai’s voice rose as he continued to explain, “I grew numb...my hands and legs and...mind...I’ve seen war and suffering and I didn’t expect to cross paths with tragedy again so soon. So I - nobody noticed this at the time because of the chaos - but I fought on your side. I tried to save as many as I could.”

You contemplated on his words for a moment without realizing that his fingers were now laced with yours.

“- when my brother found you, you just -”

“I thought I - ,” his voice dropped and lower lip quivered slightly, “ - deserved the punishment.”

Fighting back your tears, you asked, “Why didn’t you explain this to them?”

“Did you see the look on your brother’s face? And the dragon’s? He was breathing fire even in his human form. They were ready to bring me to justice for the crimes I didn’t commit.”

You gave Kai a quick once-over. His face still bore bruises from the beating but his clothes were impeccable. Rich, even. He was dressed in a blue cashmere smock, red velvet pants, and his fingernails were coated in a deep teal. He wore a beaded bracelet on his right wrist that sparkled in the dim lighting of your tent - as did the platinum ring laced with exquisite tiny diamonds on his right hand index finger.

Had the dacoits looted him, they would’ve comfortably lived on the gains from the ring alone for a good part of the year. What was the need for them to tread such a great distance to loot your clan, you wondered.

Yet again, you grew wary of the man before you.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You asked.

“Because I don’t want you to resent me for the death of your friend.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you asked defensively, “Why do you care what I think, gadjo?”

“Kai,” he corrected you and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he disappeared again.

The scattered morning light filtered through the thicket and descended in brilliant pearls in the unshackled stream of water amidst the medley of the trinkets on your anklet, the ballads of songbirds, and gushing water hitting rubbled mass as you tiptoed deeper into the forest.

A firm grasp balanced you by your arm as you hopped over rocks to cross the stream.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re tailing me, gadjo.” You teased him.

“Here,” he thrust some peeled almonds in your hand as soon as you got to the other side. Smiling, he said, “eat up. These extraordinary tiny things will help with your poor memory.”

He walked ahead of you, guiding, as you both slipped further into the capricious forest.

“You leave only to come crawling back so soon, Kai?” Although you uttered his name almost derisively, you felt heat rising up your cheeks as it fell from your lips.

“You see? The almonds help.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You merely scoffed in response.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He asked, retaining a casual tone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you bombarded him with your well thought out mental list of questions in response. The questions that had plagued your mind since your very first encounter with him.

“Where are you from, gadjo? Don’t you have a home? A... girl waiting for you?” You deliberately held on to his arm on the pretext of steadying yourself ...and his mind drew a blank.

I can’t remember anything before you.

You were about to say something more but then stopped short, retreating until your back hit the trunk of a tree. He followed and halted only at a hair breadth’s distance from you, towering over, as sunlight danced on his skin.

He breathed, “You tell me. Do I?”

“Hmm?” Brows quirked, you stared right back into his eyes as his head continued to lower slowly and you, despite yourself, started going up on the tip of your toes, his hand around your waist holding you steady.

“Do I have a girl,” he whispered, his index finger lifting your chin up, his warm breath tickling your face and his lips ghosting over yours, “waiting for me?”

Your eyelids drooped almost instinctively as the back of his fingers gently caressed the side of your face.

“Kai -”

He chuckled, swiftly scooping you up in his arms. You felt your whole body squint and your ears popped rather painfully. It wasn’t long before Kai’s feet found firm ground in a meadow full of beautiful plume thistles while you stayed burying your face in the crook of his neck, eyes firmly squeezed shut.

He gently put you down but your legs gave out. Feeling squeamish, you berated him, “Warn me the next time, yes?”

He pulled you in a tight embrace, panic betraying his voice, he asked, “Are- are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize!”

“How do you survive this at all? It’s- it feels terrible! I feel horribly queasy and my spine is trying to claw its way out of my back!” You argued aimlessly.

“One gets used to it.” He said softly as you lay on your back and he lied down next to you.

“Where are we?”

“We’re very close to Cluj-Napoca. Prince Jongin’s would-have-been kingdom.” His vague and casual tone was starting to vex you a little.

“Prince Jongin?” You enquired rather haughtily.

He answered, “Yours truly,” and bent his neck down in a bow.

“You - you’re a prince?”

He turned to face you and you excitedly followed suit. Tracing your jawline with his finger he whispered, “Not anymore. I mean - forget it, it’s a long story.” He sighed and turned his face to the clear blue skies again.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you urged him to continue, “I have all the time in the world.”

He took a moment to contemplate on your words and then his own before indulging you with a wistful smile on his face, “I turned out to be someone..something nobody expected out of me. More capable than the rightful heir, more popular with the people, more popular within the court, and more popular with the King himself.”

“Hmm...I’ll need a little more than that.”

Kai chuckled, his eyes crinkling into half moons again. “Three months ago, Cluj-Napoca was attacked by the Kingdom of Bucharest. My father - the King - was recovering from an affliction of the nerves at the time. Although I am not much of a fighter myself...well, I wasn’t trained to be one but what I lack in strength, I make up for in agility.. I led the army into battle and we managed to protect our territorial integrity and independence.”

Kai had been continuously fidgeting with the lace on his black tunic while narrating the story of his bravado, leaving you utterly astonished at the duplexity of his personality.

“So what went wrong?” You asked, studying him closely.

“The thing is I am not the King’s legitimate son,” he laughed and continued the story in a slightly higher pitch as if imitating someone, “I was born out of love, says my mother. I’m the son of a concubine.”

“But, if after everything, the King was in your favour then why did you leave?”

“He was toying with the idea of making my half-brother renounce his title. So before matters could get any worse for her son, the Queen asked me to ‘disappear into the night’ as compensation for not driving me to the streets when I was a mere boy.”

Aghast, you enquired, “So you just left?”

He simply shrugged and replied, “I am not built for a life of frivolity and merely keeping up appearances.”

“But what of your mother?”

“She’s not built for a life otherwise than of frivolity and keeping up appearances. Besides, she’s been offered an elevated position within the court by the Queen after my disappearance and she intends on keeping it. And as for my father...well, he thinks I’m a traitor who abandoned his own people. That’s why on the day that your clan was raided...I couldn’t think straight. The war with Bucharest has clearly taken a heavy toll on me...suffering of others is far beyond the level of my tolerance.”

“But what about your subjects? Tell me, how are you so casual about this?”

“You’re the daughter of the richest man in the clan. Why do you want to leave?”

“It’s not the same. Also, how do you know what I want? And- and don’t answer a question with a question. It’s annoying.”

He huddled closer to you and bragged, “It’s all in your eyes.”

“Enough, gadjo, this is not about me.” Your face flamed and your stomach was in knots in anticipation of his answer.

He let out a heavy sigh and replied, “Life is an adventure that is best lived boldly. I can go wherever I want, whenever I like. Why should someone like me bear the stifling burden of a crown when I can be...free.”

True to his character, Kai yet again appeared out of nowhere, took the heavy jute tote out of your hand and asked, “Don’t you have a handmaiden for these things?”

He was dressed entirely in black - dress shirt tucked into fitted trousers - and his face was covered with a sequined veil mask, leaving only his alluring eyes exposed. To say that you were not used to his abrupt appearances would be a gross understatement.

“I’m picking up some specific things for Vera’s mother...also, we’re in the middle of a bazaar, gadjo! You’re growing bolder by the day.”

“Lys, did you forget to take your almonds this morning?”

You scorned, “Do you have a death wish? If my brother sees you here... or the dragon... or..”

“Your precious fiancé?” He teased. “The one who’s..what was it again? Yes, the one who’s busy canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?”

Suppressing a grin, you gave him the side-eye and asked, “So you’re different, then? Better than Baekhyun?”

“Vastly! Tremendously! Immensely! Extremely!”

Shaking your head, you shot him an offhanded remark, “I don’t believe you.”

He immediately grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you inside what seemed like a dingy storage room for grains and pulses. Setting the bag down on the floor, he looked you in the eyes and roughly placed your hand on his chest.

”Don’t you think I’m different? Don’t you believe that I’m better? Don’t you understand I can make you happy? Truly happy?” He asked, his heart pulsing against your fingertips.

The overwhelming words you want to say...talk to me comfortably...I’ll listen to you...loosen the boundaries...I’m like you, too.

Eyes glistening, he pleaded, “Fly away with me.”

“No.” You stated plainly while your head and heart hammered wildly at the words he so bravely uttered and the ones he didn’t.

Brows knit together, his face scrunched in comprehension of your answer. “Why not?”

“It makes me squeamish.” You shrugged.

“Stop being funny.”

“You’re being funny. Whatever happened to you wanting to be free?”

“I don’t understand.”

Arms defensively crossed over your chest, you looked away from him and muttered, “You know what I mean -”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I didn’t mean I wanted to be free from you!” Kai’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he continued to argue, “Please don’t tell me you’re in love with the idiot you’re engaged to.”

“Of course not! It was just an arrangement to keep his loyalties with the family.”

“Then what is it?” He asked in his softest voice.

“I can hear the words you don't say, gadjo.” You bellowed, nearly throwing him back.

He shushed you before asking in a whisper, “So?”

“Isn’t it terrifying?” You struggled to keep your voice low at his very tempting yet terrifying proposition.

“On the contrary, in fact. I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. I say the things I don’t mean and freeze when I’m expected to say something. I’m easily misunderstood, Lys.”

“But everyone has secrets that they’d like to keep...secret. And from where I stand, you’re a man of too many secrets, gadjo.”

“And you’re the woman capable of unveiling them all. Look, I have nothing to hide and I don’t even want to keep anything from you. The rest,” he gulped hard before continuing, “is up to you. Think about it, would you rather be trapped in a loveless marriage? You’re the bravest woman I know, Lys. Don’t try to run away from truth.”

Ever since you’d met Kai, he was all you could think of. With him you felt safe and happy - the two emotions that had eluded you for the longest time. You wouldn’t dare to admit this to yourself but as frightening as it was, you also felt loved. All these years caught in an airless vortex, you felt like you could finally breathe - finally someone wanted you for who you were and not what you pretended to be - but something was still holding you back.

***

Kai’s words kept you up all night.

Eloping with him was a solution to all of your problems but it meant bringing shame to your family. You knew for a fact that you’d never be happy at the cost of their happiness. Sleep and answers eluding you, you scraped your hair up in a bun and threw a shawl over your shoulders to go see your father.

The fragrance of sandalwood mixed with liquor pervaded the air as you knelt beside his sleeping form. Age had started to prominently line his skin yet he looked a lot youthful without a scowl painted across his features. You planted a soft kiss on his forehead and the back of his hand, perennially struggling with your feelings towards him. He was your father, after all, and you couldn’t say that he never loved you. You only wished that he tried to understand you better.

“Dado,” you whispered against his hand, “I love you.” and broke down, sobbing quietly.

Suddenly, his disturbing thoughts came unravelled to you, filling you with unbridled rage and fear.

Fear for Kai’s life.

“You ice-veined monster...” You whispered against his hand before storming out of the tent.

“We have to stop seeing each other, gadjo.” Avoiding Kai’s eyes, you broke it to him as coolly as you could, caging a maelstrom of emotions within you.

“Would you stop calling me that? It’s cold and impersonal.” He took your hand in his as you both continued to trod lightly into the forest.

“And you’d like me to be warm...and personal..with a gadjo.. Because?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes at your remark but at this point you wanted nothing more than to save his life. When you grew to be so protective of Kai, you couldn’t tell but you knew you would do anything to save him from your vicious father. And to be able to do that, you needed him gone for good.

“Because I’m not just anyone. I am...” Breathing heavily, he pinned you to a tree.

Yours, roared his conscience. Unambiguously.

A welcome warmth seeped into your veins but you maintained a stoic demeanour. If he could hear your thoughts he’d take you away...far, far away from this stockade you called home. Tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back, spilled from your eyes as he lowered his mouth to meet yours in a deep kiss.

“We can’t be together, Kai.” Breaking the kiss, you pushed him away and sank to the ground, weeping.

Despite your protests, he carried you in his arms. Smiling, he nodded to gain your attention and trust before yelling, “Three…,” You engaged your core at “Two” and at “One” you felt a familiar uncomfortable knot in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s dark here.” You remarked, while still in the protective comfort of his arms.

“It’s night time in this part of the world, dragă.” He explained putting you down on your feet.

“Oh..you just called me -”

“I’ve been learning your tongue, iubirea mea.”

You were grateful for the darkness as it concealed just how smitten you were. Swiftly changing the subject, you asked, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere far, far away,” said Kai and you heard the smile in his voice, “at the edge of a crater of a volcano. But not to worry, it’s an inactive one.”

“How boring!” You teased, as he carefully sat you down.

A blanket of stars glimmered above as you and Kai cuddled closer to each other, enveloped in a cool breeze.

“Lys,” Kai’s eyes shone brighter than the stars as he turned to face you, “whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll work it out. My father once said that there is no problem so complex, nor crisis so grave that cannot be satisfactorily resolved within twenty minutes. And twenty minutes is all we have. Right?”

“I have to be back in time for -”

“For lunch, yes.”

“Let me tell you a story,” you said, and Kai lay down, resting his head in your lap.

“Go on,” he urged you, the tip of his index finger meeting your nose in a little pat.

With your hand on his forehead, you narrated, “There was once a couple who married for love, much against the wishes of the Elders of their village. Because of this, the newlyweds were driven out. They wandered for weeks without food and water, travelling far and wide, seeking shelter...and acceptance. One day they found,” you swallowed hard and Kai’s expression turned solemn. He gently caressed your face with his fingers, calming you down to help you continue, “they found us. Our clan, I mean and my father was Clan Leader at the time. The woman had grown fragile and sick and was in an urgent need of care but my father denied them shelter. ‘They’ve been expelled for a good reason,’ he maintained. He lacked the basic human decency to even offer them some food for sustenance. They camped outside the settlement, pleading with anyone and everyone who crossed paths with them...until...until the woman could take it no longer. She died in her sleep and the man vowed to annihilate all those who were responsible for her death - our clan included. The leader of the dacoits who brought you to the clan that day is the man in the story, Kai.”

Brows furrowed, Kai opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“My father - he - he recognized the man the day they stormed our settlement. And after everything, when he found you, it was like he’d struck gold. He was all set to incriminate you because our clan won’t rest until someone’s been punished. But truly - it’s all his fault. Had he not denied them refuge, the man wouldn’t have harboured resentment against us. Now he knows about us. He knows that you come to see me...he’s been keeping a close eye on us to be able to capture you at the right time. It won’t be long before he succeeds, Kai. So you must- I mean, we can’t -,” you huffed, “after all, I’m engaged to be married. Minseok and Yixing are going to pay Baekhyun a visit tomorrow to fix a date for the wedding.”

Biting on his lower lip, Kai contemplated on your words for a while before speaking again. “Seventeen minutes. I have a plan. Do you trust me?” He looked at you with mischief twinking in his deep, dark eyes and a smile teasing the edges of his lips. You replied with a hesitant nod.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” You said.

“Anything,” Kai said with a smile. He closed his eyes and placing your hand on his chest.

“You can be anywhere, everywhere and with anyone, yet-”

“Yet?”

“You know what I mean,” your voice trailed off.

“I can be anywhere and everywhere,” said Kai, cupping your face in his hands, “but I want to be by your side. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Don’t you see why it makes me upset when you say that we can’t see each other anymore? Don’t you see the irony? You can’t tell me that I can ‘port anywhere, except where I actually want to be. I love you, Lys.”

Looking straight into his eyes you said softly, “Love is a strong word.”

Brows quirked, he enquired, “Does it scare you?”

Your eyes glistened with tears as you responded, “As selfish as it may sound, I don’t want to bring dishonour to my family.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“But what if your plan fails?”

“It won’t. And if at all it does, I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound. As for me, it’d be an honour to die for love.”

He loosened your fist open and placed a small china jar in your palm. You opened to find almonds in it. He grinned wide, and said, “Fresh ones.. in case you’d run out.”

If you loved Baekhyun you would’ve, without a doubt, stabbed the woman with the same knife that she sat polishing.

For the longest time you’d tried to hate her for being the object of your fiancé’s affections, admire her for her bravery, admonish her for her recklessness for if anyone were to ever find out… but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for or against her.

Pivoting your attention to Kai’s best laid plan, chin up and voice firm, you said to her, “Show me your best blade.”

“What do you need it for?” She asked nonchalantly, entirely focused on the task at hand. Sure you’d grown softer since you’d met Kai but for her to not acknowledge a former Clan Leader’s presence fueled your anger.

You walked over to her and rested your hands on her shoulders, squeezing a little too harshly than you’d intended to. You wished she were thinking about anything other than Baekhyun but you weren’t surprised to find that she wasn’t.

“Lys!” She exclaimed, almost falling out of the little worn out wooden stool. She met your eyes, albeit with great difficulty.

Deliberately curling your lips into your best feature - a sinister smile, you whispered in her ear, “One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest,” before tossing a piece of silver in her direction and strutting out with a navaja, a fighting knife.

***

“Do you have it?”

Kai appeared in your tent as you sat leisurely, snacking on peeled almonds.

“Solve a mystery for me. How do you always find me because I’ve never seen you wander in through the entrance panels. You just pop up out of nowhere.”

“We have an important task at hand.” He said, sitting down next to you, bearing the mannerism of an army general.

“No, I need to know. Now.”

Kai groaned at your unpredictable temperament and slapped his thighs.

“Alright, if you must know,” he said in a seductively low voice, leering at you as his nimble fingers drew circles along your foot. He slowly drew your skirts up with his other hand and you immediately smacked it down in protest.

“Fine,” he chimed. Letting out a sigh, he tugged at your anklet, “The sound of this has been burned into my memory. It’s how I find you everytime.”

“How very romantic. What if I were to take it off?” You asked playfully.

He tilted his head to the side, a hint of annoyance on his face. Firmly, he said, “Please, don’t.”

“Alright, alright!” You exclaimed at the sudden shift in his mood. “So what’s next?” You asked.

He removed an unassuming little vial from the pocket of his buckskin waistcoat and said, “This.”

You recognized the design of the vial - the opaque green glass bottle and its mouth closed with a black cork, “A spell?”

“The dragon’s wife is too trusting!” He exclaimed cockily.

“You went to see Bulibasha’s wife -”

“Assuming a disguise, of course!”

“Are you insane?!”

“Does it come as a surprise?”

“What did you tell her?!”

“I told her that this spell is the only way I can be with the one I love. And I wasn’t lying.”

“You really have a death wish, gadjo!”

“Kai!”

It took you a little while to calculate the risks of his audacity. Gaping at him, you finally spoke again, “Tell me what’s next. I have the blade.”

“Excellent.” He held the bottle up to your eye level and explained, “I’m going to sprinkle this on the Bladerunner when she’s on her way back home in the evening and her worst fears will come alive and start gnawing at her. And what do you think is her worst fear?”

“Losing Baekhyun.” You answered in a haughty disdain.

Kai chuckled. “Perfect. You said your brother and the dragon are going to visit your pretty little fiancé tonight? This spell will get the better of the Bladerunner and against her best judgement, she’s bound to go to see Baekhyun around the same time. The two men already have their suspicions about her and to catch her visiting Baekhyun at an ungodly hour will only reinforce their worst fears and this time they’ll not be able to wriggle out of it. Baekhyun and the Bladerunner will definitely be called into the dragon’s spine-chilling, morbid private chamber after that and a decision will be made.”

“What does that mean for us?” You asked, adrenaline making your blood quicken.

“Leave that to me. All you have to do is be there before they pronounce a decision and request a private audience with the dragon and your brother. And remember to,” he grabbed the navaja from your nightstand, its cutting edge reflecting the glint in Kai’s eyes. The corners of his mouth curled up, he quipped innocently, “use this well.”

The day unfolded exactly the way Kai had predicted.

Baekhyun and the Bladerunner had been called into Yixing’s private chamber at dawn. It was too early for the clan to start it’s day so you waited outside the tent just as Kai had instructed, listening closely for the right time to make an entrance. A loud and intense argument ensued between Minseok, Yixing, and Baekhyun - the three men who might as well be sworn brothers.

If you’d never met Kai, you would’ve thought that Baekhyun was being dramatic - fighting tooth and nail to save himself from heartbreak. It was a little selfish, you thought. Hearts mend, your father said to you when you had begged him not to put down your pet goat when she’d injured herself.

“But not without leaving a deep scar,” you muttered to yourself before barging into Bulibasha’s private chamber.

Seeing your father’s arrogant portrait next to the dragon’s in Yixing’s private chamber bolstered your bitterness towards him. Without another thought, you struck the portrait in its right eye with the navaja. That wasn’t what the knife was intended for but it was akin to killing two birds with one stone. As it went flying towards the portrait, it nicked the Bladerunner’s ear since she heroically pushed her lover out of harm’s way.

“Lys! You’ve ruined Father’s portrait!” Your dutiful big brother lambasted you.

Having dressed for the occasion in a red, black, and gold robes, and lips painted in a delicious scarlet, you walked with a deliberate swing in your hips, your dark, waist length hair emulating the movement. You allowed your fingernails to brush the Bladerunner’s arm as you sauntered over for the navaja under eagle-eyed stares.

With the knife in your hand, you came and stood before the Bladerunner, placed a hand on her cheek and whispered, “You have beautiful skin, Bladerunner. I’d hate to ruin it,” as you ran the edge of the navaja along her neck, pressing it just enough to leave her with a superficial cut. You were sure Baekhyun was bound to overreact, and he did.

He pulled you out of the way, standing like a barrier between the woman he loved and the one he tolerated. His firm grasp around your wrist was starting to hurt you but you maintained an unwavering demeanour. Your eyes landed on Baekhyun’s exposed sternum. It had been a while since you saw him without the basil necklace. The necklace was a testament of the promise you made to love and cherish each other forever but it was obviously no more than an accessory to him.

“Hand it over. It never looked good on you, anyway.” You whispered and extended your hand toward him. Without a word, he slapped the necklace into your palm. Your heart hammered widely against your ribs because things were going exactly the way they were supposed to but in your experience it was never a good sign.

You knew what Baekhyun was going to do next. The look in your eyes taunted and teased him until he finally snapped. Baekhyun grabbed the dagger from your hand amidst loud gasps from everyone present.

He’d done it.

One prevalent belief still held by the clan was that taking a knife straight from someone’s hand meant that the relationship between the giver and the recipient had been severed.

Baekhyun had finally severed his relationship with you. Despite the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, you smiled inwardly at Kai’s genius.

“Baekhyun! What have you done?” Yixing’s voice thundered, echoing loudly in everyone’s ears but the enormity of his action was clearly lost on the Baekhyun. He continued to plead, “If the Bladerunner is to be punished, Bulibasha, I deserve a harsher punishment. I don’t care what the Zakono says. You can’t go on acting like she was alone in this!”

Minseok seemed firmly rooted to his place as he shot daggers at Baekhyun, his cat-like eyes disapproving Baekhyun’s out-of-character rebelliousness.

Now’s the time, you thought to yourself before being the one to break the uncomfortable silence. “He seeks her when he’s upset. And even when he’s not.” You turned to bow before Yixing and appealed, “Bulibasha, I would like to request a private audience.”

***

An exhausted Yixing slumped to the floor with his back against his spectacular dragon portrait. Face buried in hands, he groaned, “You young people really know how to complicate matters.”

“I agree,” Minseok joined in the whining while pouring wine into three goblets.

“Yixing, you have to stop acting like we have decades between us. And Minseok, put that down! It’s too early in the day for wine! Tell me what you’d rather have me do. He’s been in love with the Bladerunner forever.” You tried reasoning with them but Minseok only shook his head indignantly at your words.

“Baekhyun can’t do this to us after everything our family’s done for him. We took him in, fed him, clothed him. This is not how he repays us!” Minseok exclaimed.

You couldn’t help but draw parallels between Kai and Baekhyun’s journey so far. While they didn’t have a lot in common, one thing was for sure. They’d forever been treated like outsiders in their own homes.

“Bulibasha -” You turned to plead with Yixing.

“This is a nice switch from Yixing for when you want to reprimand me to Bulibasha for when you need something from me.” Chastised Yixing, tilting his head to the side, expression blank.

Eyes downcast, you mumbled, “I don’t want to go ahead with the wedding.”

“The Lys I know would want revenge. The Lys I know would’ve asked for his head on a spike. And hers, too!” Yixing exclaimed.

“I’m just not the same Lys anymore. The both of you really need to stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. Minseok, you know we have better fighters now and we don’t really need Baekhyun anymore. And you can’t use me to keep him by your side forever. Besides,” you got up to fetch a goblet of wine for yourself, “forgive me but… i need some liquid courage before I -”

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious about the gadjo.” Minseok muttered nonchalantly, with blatant disregard for the surprise his statement had taken you with.

Steadying yourself by tightly gripping the goblet, you asked, “You know about him?!”

“Of course, I do!” Minseok exclaimed, “I mean, we do, Yixing and I both. You thought you’d disappear randomly and nobody would ever find out? The gadjo even procured a spell from the Clan Leader’s wife! It was foolish, if you ask me.”

You offered no further explanation and said instead, “Kai. It’s his name. You’d do well to remember.”

Fuming, Yixing bellowed, “Have you no shame, Lys? His people stormed our clan. We lost no fewer than eight lives that day! You lost Vera! Have you forgotten already?”

With no care in the world, you started to defend Kai, “I haven’t forgotten and I never will. But the monsters who raided us weren’t his people. He was just as surprised by it as we were. Whatever happened is Dado’s fault.”

It was Minseok’s turn to rebuke you, “Lys, I know you love to blame him for everything but this is a serious matter. You’re taking things too far.”

“No, Minseok, it honestly is!”

Minseok and Yixing listened carefully as you revealed to them the secrets your father had been harbouring and how it was his ruse to pin the blame of the raid on Kai. Neither of them spoke for quite some time, trying to assimilate the information you’d just shared with them.

“Lys,” said Yixing calmly, as Minseok sat with his hand over his head, “even if what you say is true, you know the Zakono does not permit you to marry a gadjo.”

“Bulibasha, say that I was snatched...taken...it’s better than saying that I ran away. I can’t bear to be here any longer.” You walked over to where your brother sat, shaken and furious. You took his hands in yours, looked into his eyes and cried, “Minseok, someone like me is not meant to be confined… I want to be out in the world, moving constantly, exploring, unearthing its marvels and wonders, its deepest ...the most well kept secrets, just- just living. I am begging you to let me live!”

“Lys, that’s enough!” Interrupted a new voice, bringing you a sudden surge of relief.

You turned around to find Kai in light-toned pink fitted trousers and a broad cummerbund around his slim waist that accentuated the elegant lines of his body. A relaxed chiffon and lace tunic in the same pale pink shade with flared sleeves that closed around his wrists was tucked into the cummerbund and his ebony hair fell in silken locks over his forehead.

He took confident strides towards Yixing, and stated with a sense of surety in his eyes, “If we wanted, we could’ve disappeared without a trace.”

“Get out, gadjo,” said Minseok in a dangerously low voice, “nobody needs you here.”

“The woman I love does,” answered Kai coldly, “so I will stay until she asks me to leave.”

Anger igniting his momentum, Minseok lunged forward and punched Kai in the chest with all the strength he could muster causing Kai to stumble several feet back.

“Look at him!” Spat Minseok as you rushed to Kai’s aid while he struggled to gain his bearings. “What a weakling! I cannot trust him to protect my little sister.”

Regaining your composure, you said to your brother in a threateningly calm voice, “Minseok...don’t make me say it.”

Minseok turned to you, face scarlet and eyes bloodshot. He demanded, “What is left to be said, Lys?”

Brows furrowed you looked him in the eyes as your heart threatened to leap out of your chest. “Father doesn’t have a lot of years left and... you know how bad it’ll be if word got out we were raided because of his misdeeds...the wrong decisions he made as Clan Leader.”

Minseok laughed darkly and shot you a disgusted look. “You’re right, Lys. You’re clearly not a child anymore. But what would you rather have me do, huh? Disrespect the Zakono? Give you away to a man who abandoned his own people? One who doesn’t have a place to call home?”

“Minseok, that’s enough,” commanded Yixing, causing Minseok to stop at once. Hands on hips, he continued, “Everyone has the right to choose their own destiny. And I’m sure you understand this better than I do, you can’t expect our headstrong Lys to change her mind easily especially when it’s set on something. We’ll let you have your way, Lys. But -” Yixing’s scrutinizing gaze met Kai’s kind eyes.

Yixing reached for the leather coffer which sat in an inconspicuous corner of the tent. You’d been to the private chamber multiple times for various reasons before but you’d never noticed the coffer. He crouched over it, rummaging for something specific. It was a few minutes before he rose to his full height again, a talisman in his hand, his face saying nothing in particular.

He split the talisman in two, fastened one half of it to a black thread and quietly tied it around your neck and gave the other piece to Minseok. The talisman was similar to the one he wore around his wrist. It was very much like a jade stone, flickering in various shades of green as if alive and breathing.

“The talisman will tell us where you are - at all times. It’ll turn red to signal us when you’re in mortal danger. If that is to ever happen, no matter where you are, you know I’ll find to you in no time. And when the light goes out - ” before the mood could turn somber, Yixing continued with a voice heavily laced with pride, “Don’t ever think about taking the talisman off. Well, the truth is, you couldn’t even if you tried. This thread has been strengthened by a number of powerful charms and spells..fashioned by my own wife.”

You responded only with an understanding nod, the realization that you were finally going to have it your way had not sunk in yet. Yixing and Kai shared a look before Kai walked over to him with a grave expression on his face. Yixing drew a dagger out the bandoleer strapped around his thigh and Kai placed his hand on the teakwood desk in the room.

“Make it quick, Bulibasha,” said Kai.

“What’s going on?” You whispered into Minseok’s ear.

Minseok sighed before responding in a clipped tone, “Proof that we fought for you when the gadjo was taking you away as revenge for the death of his dacoit friends. But the gadjo just.. vanished with you and all we managed to get was -”

Your conversation was interrupted by Kai’s muffled cry of pain as he collapsed at Yixing’s feet.

“- a little finger.”

In a state of blind panic, you rushed to be by Kai’s side, struggling to form words. You were aware that Yixing wouldn’t let you go without proof of Kai’s commitment towards you but you never imagined it would come to this.

“Take this,” Yixing held the mouth of a vial to Kai’s lips as he grappled with consciousness. Kai hurriedly gulped down the milk of the poppy which knocked him out almost immediately. While he was asleep, Yixing called for his woman to clean and bandage him.

***

You spent that time sitting next to a sulking Minseok.

Setting aside his pride, Minseok finally asked, “Will you atleast come visit?”

You rested your head on your brother’s shoulder and he instinctively huddled closer to pat it affectionately. “Every full moon, I promise,” you replied softly as a silent tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled out a heavy drawstring pouch from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to you saying, “Keep this.”

You shook the purse in your hand until the coins jingled and then reprimanded Minseok, “Kai’s father is King for god’s sake! He can take care of me.”

“But I still want you to have it. I had so many dreams.. the wedding I’d planned for you..” said Minseok as tears sparkled like diamonds in his eyes, “please...keep it.”

You pulled your brother into a tight hug and sobbed, “Take care of yourself, always.”

“You’re a fine one to talk...eloping with a gadjo. Can’t say that I didn’t see this coming. Unconventional to the end, Lys.” He twisted your ear playfully while crying and laughing simultaneously.

“Let those idiots get married, Minseok, and set the fool who broke my heart free.”

“Lys -”

Pouting, you asked, “Won’t you do it for your darling sister?”

“Fine!” Minseok agreed begrudgingly, “Anything else, your highness?”

“Take care of Vera’s mother.”

“You know I already do,” said Minseok, flicking your forehead. “Promise me you’ll come visit? And you’ll always, always take care of yourself?”

You took Minseok’s hand in yours and pressed your lips to his knuckles, as his heart continued to weep.

***

It was nearly noon when Kai finally awoke.

You stood up as he walked over to you with a marked confidence in his demeanour like his little finger wasn’t carved out of his body just a few hours ago. He wrapped his arms around your waist, while Yixing and Minseok watched uncomfortably, and rested his forehead against yours.

With your hand on his chest you asked Kai, “Are you alright?”

“Never been better. You look like a bride, iubirea mea,” he said, holding you closer, tighter as his hands travelled the length of your back.

“Shall we?” He asked, lowering his head to press his lips against yours. He deepened the kiss and you responded with equal fervour as he lifted you off your feet, twirling you in his arms until you felt a familiar, intense drop in your stomach, one you’d soon have to get used to.

‘Cause I’m too wicked I want to take all of your heart Don’t you worry So soon, you have my world

You make me feel so Mm-mhm..

**********************

hello @diveinthebluewithyou this one’s for you...welcome to Romaniverse!! hope you enjoy <3

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diavolodigitale · 3 years

Text

Stare

So... there’s this. I wrote most of the text like half a year ago and I was reeeeeally happy about it, but then I finished reading the novel and just kind of dropped it. Anyway, I came across this story among some other trash in my folders some time ago and decided that I was strongly determined to finish it as it would be a shame if I wasted so much work.

Me: the beginning was so good, I am upset about the way I finished it :C well, nobody’s going to read it anyway, so who cares.

AO3: psst, you wanna 1000+ hits on this?

Lately, Lan Xichen had been feeling uneasy all the time. No matter where he went, he would feel apprehensive and tense, as if something threatened him, pricked him in the back. Perhaps, it was high time for him to finally turn around and face what had been lurking in shadows this whole time.

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Comfort, Eventual Romance

Pairing: Lan Xichen/Jiang Cheng

Characters: Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, Jin Ling, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi

Rating: G for God why is it so long

Size: whopping 16000 words (all 5 chapters are in this post)

Chapter 1: Aggressive

Standing in the doorway of the Cloud Recess reception hall, Lan Xichen slightly turned his head to face the inside of the spacious room. The feeling of uneasiness he had been experiencing for the last couple of minutes reached its peak, which made him resolute to find out what exactly seemed so wrong to him. It was the time of what one might call a sporadic celebration held by the Gusu Lan sect together with the Yunmeng Jiang sect every once in a while with the purpose of strengthening the bonds between the two sects. The guests had already gathered and now were merrily chatting around him, yet from the very beginning of the ceremony he had been feeling as though something was odd, and this feeling did not let him be at ease.

His gaze slid swiftly from one corner of the room, passing the members of both clans resting at their tables, each on their respective side, and stopped abruptly at the face of Jiang Cheng, who was sitting stiffly, holding a cup with liquor in his hand, and fixedly staring at him with an unusually grim expression on his face. The moment Lan Xichen caught him doing that, he tried to avert his eyes as if he hadn’t been looking that way at all, and gulped everything that was in his cup at one go.

Not unlike Jin Guangyao, Lan Xichen was very much concerned with the well-being and comfort of his guests, so he immediately thought that something must have happened that angered the leader of the Jiang sect, who was, in addition to everything, quite infamous for his short temper. With Jiang Cheng diligently hiding his gaze, the atmosphere, to which Lan Xichen was quite susceptible, lightened quite considerably, so he concluded that his feeling must have appeared because of Jiang Cheng’s dissatisfaction with the Gusu Lan sect’s ceremony.

His smile as kind and genuine as ever, Lan Xichen elegantly but promptly approached the table at which Jiang Cheng was sitting.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he greeted and bowed politely, joining his hands in front of himself.

“Sect Leader Lan,” murmured the greeting Jiang Cheng, standing up from his mat and also bowing in respect.

Despite the fact that Lan Xichen would frequently personally greet all of his guests, he had been unprecedentedly busy before this particular celebration and hadn’t had the opportunity to welcome the disciples and members of the Yunmeng Jiang sect when they had just arrived. He was wondering if that might have become the cause for Jaing Cheng’s displeasure.

“Are you enjoying the ceremony, Sect Leader Jiang?” he asked, his eyes slightly squinted because of the smile blooming on his face. He was sure the ceremony would satisfy the needs of all of his guests as Lan Wangji had personally attended to all of the matters that concerned its organization. In spite of that, he still wanted to make sure nothing out of the ordinary had happened that might have spoiled the mood of his guests.

“Yes, I am,” nodded Jiang Cheng, taking a seat on his mat again. He abruptly turned his eyes to Jin Ling, who, he had noticed earlier, was frantically spinning and turning at his own table beside him. Sending him a condemnatory look, he turned back to Lan Xichen and added, “Do not bother, Sect Leader Lan. You could not have held a better ceremony.”

Lan Xichen bowed lightly in gratitude. Jiang Cheng was a difficult person to deal with, so he, of course, would not have let it out even if something had really displeased him, especially to the sect leader’s face, so Lan Xichen decided to stick around for a little longer and entertain the Yunmeng Jiang sect leader with his presence, just to be on the safe side.

“I sincerely hope you do not mind me joining you,” he said politely, kneeling beside Jiang Cheng’s table.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened a bit from surprise as it was not common for a sect leader to sit beside their guests instead of taking their seat at the head of the main table.

“No… not at all,” he replied, trying to make his voice seem emotionless and rigid.

Jin Ling stared at them with overt interest, having abandoned the food he indulged into only moments ago. Jiang Cheng sent him another killing stare, reminding him to watch his manners, and the young man was forced to mind his own business yet again. He was extremely bored to sit there all alone with nobody to chat with, but even more than that he was afraid of a future scolding, so in the end decided not to test his uncle’s patience.

“How do you find the liquor from Gusu, Sect Leader Jiang?” asked Lan Xichen, carefully filling his cup from the liquor bottle standing on his table.

Jiang Cheng accepted the cup and looked into the clear liquid inside of it, reflecting on the question. Not a single muscle on his face twitched as he gulped it and set the cup on the table with a quiet tap.

“It is to my liking,” he said briefly and threw a quick glance at the bottle in Lan Xichen’s hands.

The man in front of him smiled vividly and busied himself with filling his cup yet again.

Some visitors of the Cloud Recess felt quite uncomfortable when served the liquor there as the Lan sect members wouldn’t join them in drinking it, and Jiang Cheng was definitely one of them. Yet he could not admit it as it seemed impolite for him to refuse a drink offered by the sect leader himself.

“Young Master Wei mentioned quite a few times that he preferred it to the liquor from Yunmeng,” said Lan Xichen, offering the filled cup to Jiang Cheng once again.

“I am sure he did,” murmured Jiang Cheng and pouted for reasons unknown to his interlocutor. He took the cup from Lan Xichen but did not down it and instead continued to hold it in his hands, as if warming it.

To avoid the uncomfortable silence that arose after mentioning Wei Wuxian in the conversation, Lan Xichen sighed with pretended disappointment and said, “I myself was never able to try it, so all I can do is believe Young Master Wei’s as well as Sect Leader Jiang’s words. Could you, perhaps, describe the taste to me, Sect Leader Jiang?” The smile not fading from his face for even a second, Lan Xichen tilted his head a bit and added, “If it would not be too much of a bother for you, of course.”

“It is...” started Jiang Cheng, still looking into his cup instead of lifting his head to face Lan Xichen, and squeezed his lips.

Jin Ling was gawking at them again, leaning a bit on the wooden surface before him, his puppy eyes gleaming at the sight of something even slightly more interesting that the plates on his table he was rearranging this whole time. Jiang Cheng only sighed at the annoying youngling’s behaviour and continued after a short pause.

“It is sweet with a bit of spice in it. It does not sting like some other wines I have been lucky enough to sample and because of that it is quite easy to be tricked by its mildness and drink more than one should.”

After blurting out the last part of the sentence, Jiang Cheng hurried to drink the wine in his cup, this time savouring the taste.

Watching him drink, Lan Xichen nodded a few times as if understanding what Jiang Cheng meant.

“Has Sect Leader Lan ever felt like tasting the wine himself?” asked Jiang Chen, not giving him back the cup for refilling. Immediately, though, he seized the question, not letting Lan Xichen even consider his answer. “My apologies if I am being disrespectful, asking such a thing. Please, disregard my question.”

La Xichen shook his head, smiling.

“I was curious. There is no shame for anybody in wanting to try the unknown. I am only inquiring about it because, if I am being completely honest, I still am curious,” he squinted his eyes in a guilty smile, his hands lying flat on his knees, not able to get a hold of the cup to fill for his guest. “It is the fragrance, you see,” he continued. “I can feel a very strong fruit aroma enveloping the room every time we hold a ceremony in the Cloud Recess, and it piques my curiosity.”

“It must be tough for the Lan sect disciples if even Sect Leader Lan feels this way,” exclaimed Jin Ling surprisedly. Jiang Cheng immediately turned to him with his whole body, the sight of his clenched fist silencing all further remarks of his nephew.

Lan Xichen laughed softly, taking the cup from Jiang Cheng’s tight grip and startling him with an airy touch on his fingers. He seemed to hear the fragile porcelain almost crack in Jiang Cheng’s hand and decided to save his guest from likely injuring himself, even if it came at the cost of him looking a bit insolent.

“Indeed, it is tough, but they have many other things to enjoy here,” he said, filling the cup yet again. “Sect Leader Jiang, do not be angry at Young Master Jin. Let children be children, as inquisitive and restless as they can be. At least during such festivities.”

Jin Ling’s eyes lit up when Lan Xichen himself stood up for him. He glanced at his uncle, awaiting his reaction, and felt satisfied, seeing how Jiang Cheng ended up following the advice of his senior and only sighed again defeatedly, accepting the cup.

“Children are not easily entertained during such events. Perhaps, Young Master Jin would like to leave the reception hall and join the Gusu Lan sect disciples who right now happen to practice archery in the training yard? Of course, with the permission of his sect leader,” said Lan Xichen, glancing kindly first at Jin Ling, and then at his uncle.

Hearing the proposal, Jin Ling grew even more agitated and pressed his hands hard on his knees, silently praying for Jiang Cheng to let him go.

As soon as Jiang Cheng gave him a short nod, he sprinted out of the hall, thanking both him and Zewu-Jun as he ran towards the exit.

“Running is prohibited in the Cloud Recess!” rang the voice of Lan Qiren from somewhere on the other side of the room, but Jin Ling was already too far to care or even notice.

Lan Xichen gracefully covered his mouth with his long white sleeve, letting out a short laugh. Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue, his brows furrowing as he looked in the direction Jin Ling ran in.

“I will bring the brat back and make him apologize for his behaviour,” he said through gritted teeth.

Fearing he would really stand up and follow his nephew, Lan Xichen rushed to stop him.

“No need to worry, Sect Leader Jiang, Young Master Jin will be able to make amends for it later. I am sure it is not the last time you are in the Cloud Recess after all.”

Having been positively influenced by Zewu-Jun’s wish to keep the ceremony as peaceful and tranquil as possible, Jiang Cheng seemed to quickly calm down, and for once stopped thinking about how his nephew always allegedly brought him trouble and shame in the eyes of the surrounding people.

Lan Xichen noticed that Jiang Cheng still did not drink the wine he poured him previously, so he tried to redirect his attention to that instead.

“Ah, now that I think of it, Sect Leader Jiang has just mentioned that it is quite easy to drink more wine than one should, and I am now hurrying him to drink even more without offering a single bite of food. How improper of me,” he said and bowed slightly, feeling a bit foolish.

“Please, do not apologize, Zewu-Jun, I am treated well, and I have everything I need here,” awkwardly replied Jiang Cheng and took a grape from one of the small plates standing on the table in front of him as if to assure the host he was really fine. “What is more important,” he muttered, “I feel like I am stealing the attention of Zewu-Jun from the other guests. Please, do not feel obliged to entertain me exclusively, I do not require others to keep me company at all times, Zewu-Jun.”

His words sounded a bit harsher than he wanted them to, yet there was no going back, so he just sat and looked at Lan Xichen. The expression of the latter one, however, did not change the slightest, he only shook his head again with the same mild smile.

“Sect Leader Jiang is our most important guest, so there is no other person here today more entitled to get my attention. Moreover, I do not feel forced, so Sect Leader Jiang has nothing to worry about. Only if my presence burdens him, will I take my leave,” he said, screwing his eyes. One might say the words would sound somewhat shamelessly if it was not for the person who uttered them.

Having felt the air in the room become significantly livelier and lighter after he came to keep Jiang Cheng company, Lan Xichen decided it would be best to stay and personally make sure his guest did not need anything and felt comfortable and satisfied, thus, the condition he put forward.

“No-no! It is not that… I did not…” blurted Jiang Cheng, gravely afraid to offend or anger his most powerful ally who also just happened to be the calmest person ever known to the cultivation world. He managed to quickly compose himself and went on, “I would not want Zewu-Jun to have sore knees because of me.”

He looked at how Lan Xichen had been sitting on the bare floor this whole time and clenched his teeth and the jawbone below his temples jutted.

“Then I will take a cushion not to trouble the sect leader and join him shortly,” answered Lan Xichen, not leaving Jiang Cheng any other choice than to comply.

Lan Qiren shook his head, disapproving of the sight.

Wei Wuxian conspiratorially leaned to Lan Wangji sitting beside him and whispered to him, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What are they even doing there? Lan Zhan, why is Zewu-Jun not sitting at his table today?”

Lan Wangji did not answer and only continued to look at how his brother was arranging a seat for himself near Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian hmphed and mumbled to himself.

“Well, if Hanguang-Jun doesn’t know, then there is nobody in this room I can possibly ask apart from Zewu-Jun himself”.

Watching intently as Jiang Cheng was constantly huffing and puffing, his face shifting from grim and pale to anxious and bluish, while Lan Xichen was smiling, and smiling, and smiling his warm and amiable smile, filling his cup again and again, Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but chuckle at how helpless his shidi looked.

“Wei Ying, stop staring,” whispered Lan Wangji, his glance pricking Wei Wuxian as he reproached him for his inappropriate behaviour.

“Lan Zha-a-ang,” uttered Wei Ying slowly, giving Lan Wangji a few reassuring pats on the back, “don’t be such a bore. Even if you don’t want to look, I do, because this is truly a sight I do not indent to miss even a second of.”

Chapter 2: Threatening

Another eerily similar episode happened to Lan Xichen in a few weeks’ time, during the nighthunt under the supervision of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. Both of the sects participated in it by mutual agreement.

The hour was late and the night air was fresh. No animals or any other wildlife could be seen active in the proximity of the cultivators’ makeshift

camp situated on the clearing in the woods. Long arms of trees reached out far and intertwined, creating the illusion of closed space around the clearing, but the area in the middle of it was brightly illuminated by the moon light on a par with many lanterns brought by the cultivators. The atmosphere was calm enough, despite the fact that many people were agitated and anxiously looking forward to the grandiose fight, some of them making practice swings with their swords while the others fought their urges to start a bonfire and nestle cozily beside it, falling asleep, surrounded by dark wilderness.

“Brother, the beast has fled from Young Master Jin’s trap,” uttered emotionlessly Lan Wangji, having approached his brother. Zewu-Jun was graciously standing near a tall branchy tree at the side of the clearing and watching the cultivators roam around and try to find the track of the beast they came to hunt down.

“As expected,” he said knowingly, “having been wounded by it, it is now enraged and will soon come to seek its revenge.”

Lan Wangji nodded agreeingly. They knew it was not the best idea, to put a trap for such a huge beast, as it was clearly not able to hold it back, much less kill it. Nonetheless, they chose not to raise their concerns as this time they were only the guests of the Yunmeng Jiang sect. Jin Ling’s methods differed from those used by their disciples, but he seemed to have quite a lot of fun, nighthunting using all of the means provided to him by his uncle, and there was enough of adult cultivators around to take care of the situation in case something went wrong.

Hearing Jin Ling, Lan Sizhui, and Lan Jingyi happily chattering over the enormous footprints the beast had left along a narrow path in the woods, Lan Xichen smiled. His goal had always been to discipline his disciples so that he could later let them wander around the world without having to worry for their safety. It was achieved by teaching them to control themselves, be careful and aware of their surroundings, and putting as much knowledge into their heads as it was humanly possible. Nevertheless, at such moments he wanted to give them as much freedom as he could, understanding how thousands and thousands of rules of the Gusu Lan sect could impinge on the young minds such as theirs.

He looked at Lan Wangji standing proudly beside him, his face so similar to his own, yet so different at the same time.

“Wangji, where will you go after the nighthunt is over?” he asked inquisitively.

“Don’t know. Let us catch the beast first, then think,” he answered with no emotions colouring his voice.

“I will be glad to see you in Could Recess, but if you have other plans…” Lan Xichen hesitated before smiling with the corners of his lips as he looked at Wei Wuxian, who pretended to teach something extremely valuable to the juniors standing with their mouths gaping, and continuing, “I do not mind either.”

Lan Wangji bowed to him in gratitude, knowing that it was not easy for his brother to let him go and take all of the responsibilities of leading the sect onto his shoulders. Anyway, he did not intend to leave before the beast was dealt with, and Wei Wuxian’s extreme desire to glance at how big and wild it was was only one of many reasons for that.

It was rumoured that the beast was a giant scorpion with a head of a snake coming out of its tail instead of a sting. As tall as four horses stacked atop of each other, it supposedly could kill a negligent passer-by in more than a hundred different ways: crush them by its weight, swallow them completely, strangle them with its wriggling snake body; and those were only the methods mentioned briefly in the tavern of the nearby city by its owner, who was so eager to discuss the beast, the cultivators did not even have to pay him for his tongue to loosen.

Nobody knew where such a beast could come from or where it could possibly be hiding at, as nobody ever lived long enough to see it leave. In any case, tales told by common folk were rarely to be trusted in such circumstances, as quite frequently the beasts that were frolicking around the forests and killing hundreds of men turned out to be mere animals that grew a bit too large in size and scared one or two villagers on their way home. What one misheard, the other one overexaggerated, and so the stories of hellish demon spawns were born to reach the ears of the members of the cultivation sect that was the closest to the infested area.

Experienced cultivators knew not to hope too much to encounter what they were promised, but the juniors still held a youthful lust for adventures, the tales of which they would be able to share with each other afterwards as a part of their competition for the title of the bravest and most talented swordsman. They wandered around the area of the forest not too far away from their seniors and tried to determine what was the beast’s movement pattern, veering, as Wei Wuxian was lazily sitting on the tree branch and pointing with his flute to the spots they should inspect, his leg swinging casually.

Should the beast really be as incredible and mighty as it was described by the villagers, the amount of negative air enveloping the members of the two sects would be overwhelming at best. Despite that, the only thread of threatening energy Lan Xichen felt was the one directed solely at him. It was far too weak to affect him in any way, but its pricking still made him

feel uncomfortable and a bit twitchy, even though he did not display it. The energy was not scattered all over the place and instead bothered only him, which made him think it must not be the beast who was emitting it.

As he was pondering over where this energy could possibly be coming from, he noticed his brother standing quietly, directing all of his attention at a particular spot on the other edge of the circular clearing the cultivators were occupying. He followed his gaze, but could not see what he was staring at.

“What is the matter, Wangji?” he asked.

“I thought I saw someone,” replied Lan Wangji with notes of concern in his voice, only discernible by Lan Xichen.

“Behind that tree?” asked Lan Xichen, seemingly not worrying even a tad.

Lan Wangji nodded, clenching the hilt of Bichen.

Lan Xichen put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head lightly before rising noiselessly up into the air with the intention of flying over to the other side and not scaring away a person that stood there, hiding. His snowy robes and ink-black long hair fluttered in the wind when he suddenly stopped and descended back down, hearing a familiar voice ringing out further in the woods.

“Uncle Jiang! What are you standing here for? I almost didn’t notice you!” yelled Jin Ling, slamming into the tree Lan Xichen previously wanted to approach to stop himself from passing by Jiang Cheng.

Without saying anything, Jiang Cheng came out from behind the tree, his fists clenched, eyes bulging, and lips pouting. He couldn’t make up his mind as to how we could scold his nephew for what he had done, so instead only stared at him, hoping that the stare would be as effective as the words he was now at a loss for.

Jin Ling did not understand why in the world his uncle was angry already since he did not yet do anything to cause this. He did his best to ignore this sudden fit of rage and continued as if nothing happened.

“I was looking for you everywhere! Uncle Jiang, Uncle Wei showed me how we can track the beast’s way starting at my trap. Will you go in search of it with us?” he beamed, not being able to stand still from the excitement that filled him.

“Uncle Wei?” mocked Jiang Cheng, the corner of his lip twitching. “If he is your uncle now, what do you even come to me for? Next time we are in Lotus Pear, why don’t you collect all of your belongings and join him on his journeys instead of staying?” he raged.

Jin Ling’s eyes reddened a bit and lips started to tremble. The situation seemed so unfair to him. Having lost one of the few relatives he had and suddenly having found another one only to be chided for it by the closest person he had, he felt like running away immediately and never speaking to Jiang Cheng again. He was used to his uncle yelling at him left and right, but the topic of family had always been his weak spot, and he knew that Jiang Cheng was well aware of that.

“Maybe I will!” he shouted with a wobbling voice. “If you don’t want to see me in Lotus Pier, you can just say so, you don’t have to look for excuses like uncle Wei!”

Everybody directed their attention to the two yelling at each other. The disciples of the Yunmeng Jiang sect were, of course, long accustomed to such squabbles between their leader and his nephew, but this one in particular seemed to be a tad worse than most of the previous ones.

Fairy ran towards its owner, barking loudly, as it sensed how upset he was. It sat close to Jin Ling’s feet, flattened its ears against its head, and pushed its black snout into his hand in between his trembling fingers.

Jin Ling, being almost on the verge of crying, carefully petted it with his hand and fearlessly looked Jiang Cheng in the eyes.

Looking at them sticking so close to each other in search of support, both confused and distressed, Jiang Cheng felt extremely guilty. He knew that he shouldn’t have said what he had, but it was also incredibly hard for him to admit his mistake, especially in front of so many people that included his own subordinates as well as the prominent cultivators from the Lan sect. He was breathing heavily as the feelings of remorse and spite fought inside of him. As always, spite won.

“Jin Ling! You-”

“Sect Leader Jiang,” interrupted Lan Xichen, appearing out of nowhere beside him. Everybody was so focused on the argument that didn’t even notice when he managed to approach the two. The expression on his face was gentle, yet he was not smiling, feeling it would be completely out of place at the time.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he repeated to get Jiang Cheng’s attention, “please, let us consider this incident a misunderstanding. Both you and Young Master Jin need some time to cool off, so why don’t you speak again after we finish the nighthunt together?”

Lan Xichen wanted to lay his hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, but it seemed to him that he would get a scorch from how furious he was, so he dared not. He gave Jin Ling a sympathetic look and nodded encouragingly,

taking his chances to persuade at least one of the sides to settle for a temporary peace.

Jin Ling sniffed, trying his best not to let a single tear slip out of his eyes, crossed his hands on the chest and turned away, showing his unwillingness to continue the talk.

“Fine,” roared Jiang Cheng and determinately fled deeper into the forest, not to be bothered by anybody else. Lan Xichen, however, did not agree with his decision, so he followed him, waving his hand for others to stay away. Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian gingerly approached Jin Ling, pushing Lan Wangji to the front as he went to get an obstacle between him and the huge spiritual dog panting at Jin Ling’s feet. He was not yet ready to overcome his fear, but seeing his shijie’s son at such a state was more than he could handle.

“Sect Leader Jiang!” called Lan Xichen, almost catching up with Jiang Cheng. “Please, wait.”

Jiang Cheng stopped abruptly and sighed, still clenching his fists.

“I know that my behaviour was ill-advised, Sect Leader Lan. I apologize that you had to witness it, but I cannot make up for it right now. Maybe, it would be best if you joined your sect members and defeated the beast for the nighthunt and everything about it to finally be over.”

“Sect Leader Jiang’s disciples are all extremely skilled and talented, I am sure that my help is not needed at the moment,” said Lan Xichen consolingly and couldn’t help but let an awkward smile slide onto his face.

Jiang Cheng turned around and faced the only person that had the audacity to follow him. Other cultivators having stayed behind, there was nobody to hold a lantern and illuminate the place, so his face was completely submerged into darkness. Despite that, Lan Xichen still managed to discern what a guilty and upset expression he was wearing. One single ray of moonlight managed to slip through thick branches above, and for a second it seemed like Jiang Cheng’s eyes were shimmering.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” started Lan Xichen again, seeing how Jiang Cheng could not find any suitable words, “lately, I have noticed that something is bothering you. Has anything happened?” Similarly to Wangji’s, his robes possessed a peculiar feature of giving the effect of shining in the darkness, even without a proper light source nearby. His hair descended in soft waves onto his lapels and blew in the late-night breeze. Holding his hands behind his back, he was the epitome of tranquility.

Jiang Cheng had always envied such people and how they never lost control over anything.

“No,” he uttered, raising his head to feel the wind roaming up in the tree branches and rustling the leaves above them.

Lan Xichen was drawn away from gazing onto his tired face by the sudden gust of hateful energy brought about by the wind. It was indeed strong, stronger than what he had expected to find in the forest that night. Immediately he became more alert and reached for the xiao hanging on his waist.

“Seems like we are not alone anymore,” smirked Jiang Cheng, stroking the ring on his index finger.

For a moment, complete silence fell onto the forest. Then the beast emerged.

Should the other cultivators be with them at the moment, Wei Wuxian and all of the younger disciples would be glad to learn that at least the tales of it having a hideous snake head instead of a sting were true. Its eyes were dangerously gleaming in the darkness as it menacingly approached the two sect leaders. Its size was truly terrifying, even though it was quite difficult to determine if it was really as tall as rumoured. The cloud of resentful energy it produced was so overpowering that both men were taken aghast. It was impossible to understand how such a large beast with this much dark power managed to sneak up on them.

Not taking even a second of delay, Lan Xichen grabbed Liebing. The sound, cold and clear, enveloped everything around them, and the beast immediately staggered on its way to attacking him. Lan Xichen took a few careful steps back, still playing his xiao. The beast roared and squelched because of the melody piercing it right to its essence, but still followed him. It would not be a difficult fight for the leader of the Lan sect, seeing how he was able to take control of the creature at the very start of it, but it wasn’t meant for him to finish off the monster that night.

With a low growl, Jiang Cheng made an abrupt movement of his hand, and a neon-purple whip traced its pattern, hitting the ground beneath his feet and making a dent in the soft undergrowth. The beast turned its ugly head to the startling sound and took a giant step towards Lan Xichen, wanting to escape the newly emerged threat. With no hesitation at all, it sent his tail with a snake’s mouth wide-open towards Jiang Cheng in an attempt to drive him back.

Engulfed in the ghostly sound of the flute, Jiang Cheng glanced in the direction the beast was advancing to, and his body moved without him even having to make a conscious effort. He dodged the bite of the giant snake, almost completely dropping to the ground, and instantly rose up to press on the creature. He hit the ground with Zidian a few times on both

sides of the monster, scaring it and not letting it use any other route to escape.

Disturbed by the flute’s lethargic melody and blinded by Zidian’s glare, the beast cried again in despair before Jiang Cheng raised his whip one last time, swaying it high in the air for the hit to gain force, and landed it with a crack dead on the center of the beast, cutting both of its heads together with its body into two perfectly even parts. Lan Xichen hurriedly jumped away, hearing how the tree behind him snaped in half, also stricken by the whip.

Still holding Liebing in his hand, and for some reason holding his breath, he glanced at Jiang Cheng. His heart was pounding loudly as he continued looking, enchanted by the sight.

Zidian glared with vivid purple light and crackled, sparks flying all around its owner. Even the fresh nigh air seemed to feel crisp as small flashes of lightening pierced it here and there, making it impossible to even approach Jiang Cheng. With his face austere, chin slightly protruding upwards, and eyes full of resentment and haughtiness towards the fallen opponent, he stood there, amid the dark chilly woods, illuminated by the ghastly glow of his spiritual weapon. His combed hair seemed to be the colour of a ripe dark plum while his face resembled a light and tender thistle, in addition to its paleness remaining unmoved and, thus, making him look more like a ghost than human. Without moving his head, he slowly turned his eyes to Lan Xichen who was breaking a certain rule of his own sect, still staring at him, and pierced him with his scornful glance in return.

After what seemed to Lan Xichen as eternity, but, in reality, turned out to be a mere few seconds, they were approached by a noisy crowd of cultivators, rushing from the camp to the sounds of a battle. Hurrying at the head of the group was Lan Wangji who understood something was wrong hearing the first notes of his brother’s xiao ringing in the distance.

“Brother, have you been hurt?” he asked, examining the destructive aftermath of the whip’s work around them.

“I am completely unharmed, thanks to Sect Leader Jiang,” answered Lan Xichen slowly, taking his time to regain his composure. He added, still looking at Jiang Cheng, “Sect Leader Jiang, I am much obliged for your help.”

Holding Liebing, he locked his hands in front of himself and took a deep bow to Jiang Cheng, staying in this position for a few more seconds than needed.

“Wah, how scary,” whispered Lan Jingyi either to himself or to Lan Sizhui, who, as always, was standing not too far from him. They were afraid to even look at Jiang Cheng at the moment.

Jin Ling only pouted more, throwing furtive looks at the body of the beast he wanted to catch so badly and at his uncle who was at the centre of everybody’s attention. He was proud more than disappointed, but did not want to admit it even to himself.

Fairy happily wagged its tail a few steps behind him.

Jiang Cheng’s whip vanished, and he bowed to Lan Xichen in return.

“Zewu-Jun has nothing to thank me for. The nighthunt was a joint venture, and both of the sides have put in an equal amount of work,” he concluded, straightening himself up.

“Then it is my delight to pronounce this nighthunt successful,” said Lan Xichen for everybody to hear. “Now the Lan sect will take its leave and-”

“We shall all return to Lotus Pier and rest. Let us leave long travels as well as cleaning up the mess for tomorrow, Sect Leader Lan,” said Jiang Cheng in a tone that did not condone any dispute.

“Then we will avail ourselves of your hospitality once again,” yielded Lan Xichen and smiled politely, lowering his gaze.

Wei Wuxian sighed.

“He could have at least been more respectful and not interrupted Zewu-Jun,” he said for only the juniors around him to hear. They happened to be shielding him from Jin Ling’s Fairy who was peacefully minding its own business.

“Mn,” agreed Lan Wangji, and the others actively nodded, as always devotedly supporting the opinion of their seniors.

Everybody having departed in the direction of Lotus Pier, Jin Ling was the last one to leave the scene. First, because he had to drag away Fairy that already started nibbling on one of the beast’s many legs, and, second, because he did not want to walk in depressing silence all the way home. After all, his place was always beside his uncle. He decided to keep his distance and lagged behind on purpose, but no matter how hard he tried, there was still another person that just would not leave.

Wei Wuxian leaned against a tree a few meters away from him and toyed with Chenqing in his hand.

“Are you still angry at him, Rulan?” he asked quietly.

Jin Ling hmphed, hearing his courtesy name being used.

“Don’t be. You know how stupid your uncle is sometimes, and he’s generally not very good with words. Don’t learn from the worst, learn from the best,” he grinned and pushed himself up from the tree. “And call me your martial uncle, that way he will not find fault with you. Now, send your dog away, and let’s go.”

Jin Ling stood, not granting Wei Wuxian his request, and waited.

“A-Ling, don’t be like that!” shouted his martial uncle and stamped his foot onto the damp grass.

Jin Ling smiled mischievously and slapped Fairy’s butt a few times.

“Go, find uncle Jiang. Follow him all the time until he gives you food,” he murmured to it, and the dog sprinted off, obeying its master’s command.

The dog having increased the distance between them significantly, Wei Wuxian came to Jin Ling and pulled him with one arm around his neck right into his bear hug.

“Now that is my shizhi! I will treat you with my favourite pie when we return.”

“For this,” grumbled Jin Ling, struggling in his grip, “you will have to make it at least two, Wei shishu.”

Chapter 3: Unreadable

Down in Lotus Pier all of the guests were let back into the rooms they were residing in the day before the nighthunt and fed richly to commemorate the hunt’s successful outcome. Even though most of the cultivators clearly understood that their contribution to the nighthunt was close to nonexistent, nobody refused the late-night dinner or, as some called it, the early-morning breakfast.

Along with spicy, but, nevertheless, quite delicious food, they were treated with the news that what the leader of the Jiang sect meant by “tomorrow” was, actually, the day after tomorrow. The nighthunt ended almost at dawn, and by the time they arrived at Lotus Pier, the sun had already risen. It was only natural for them to assume that they would take a short rest before setting off for their journey home, but Wei Wuxian was kind enough to explain to them that it was not how they did it here, in Yunmeng. Sect leader’s guests came a long way to participate in the nighthunt and helped the local dwellers by making the roads safe again, so the least he could do was express his gratitude in such a way. It goes without saying that nobody dared to disagree.

Despite his body being tired and mind telling him he was long late according to his sleep schedule, Lan Xichen felt like neither eating nor resting. He looked out of the window of the vast guest residence he was granted. It was already light outside and birds chirped loudly in the crowns of the trees growing in the inner yard. He hanged Shuoyue on his waist and ventured outside to enjoy the beauties of the region he bitterly regretted visiting so rarely.

He strolled down a wooden bridge that stretched over a small pond with countless lotus flowers blooming on its surface, remains of morning dew covering their light-pink petals, and marveled at how different everything here was from misty and brisk Cloud Recess where he and his brother grew up. There it had always been eternally peaceful and predictable, calm and lofty, as not even animals dared to disturb the ever-present air of tranquility. Here he never knew what expected him behind the next corner. The nature of the region and the city of Yunmeng looked almost exotic and breathtaking in their untamedness. It seemed to him that this really was the only place that could bring up such people as Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng. They went through their lives like wild mountain streams, not contemplating, not doubting, acting on their impulses and doing the way they saw fit. Even when looking back or faced with regret, it was not for the foreign eyes, but only for themselves. Never did they let out any word about what they really cared for or were bitter about, instead holding it deep inside of them, carrying it in their proud hearts.

Lan Xichen smiled with the corners of his lips, unwillingly comparing himself and Lan Wangji to the people who called this place home. They were the extremities, two different sides of one coin, but, perhaps, such people really got on best.

“When I see such a smile on Zewu-Jun’s face, I can rest assured that he is pleased with the time spent in Lotus Pier,” said Wei Wuxian confidently and grinned. He was squatting down on the broad steps leading to the clear surface of the pond. Jin Ling was submerging his feet into the lukewarm water beside him.

Lan Xichen approached the skillfully carved railing of the bridge, his hands as always locked behind his back, and smiled again at Wei Wuxian.

“I enjoy it here a lot. Perhaps, even too much. This feeling always makes leaving incredibly difficult,” he replied with a meditative look on his face.

“Then why not stay here for longer? Uncle Jiang will always find a room and some time to spare for Zewu-Jun,” said Jin Ling and quietly yawned, exhausted by the nighthunt’s occurrences and lack of sleep.

“Maybe, someday,” answered Lan Xichen kindly. After a moment of silence, he inquired, “Is Young Master Ling feeling better now?”

Jin Ling nodded and splashed the water in the pond with his dangling foot.

“I know it might look strange for Zewu-Jun, but my uncle…” he inhaled more air, struggling to utter what he had in mind, before continuing, “he is not that bad. At least, not always. I don’t know what got onto him, but it will not apply to the Lan sect in any way.”

Wei Wuxian beamed proudly and dragged Jin Ling closer, squeezing his forearm.

“A-Ling is right. Sect Leader Lan should not worry about Jiang Cheng’s temper influencing his stay at all. He will come around sooner or later. He always does. And if he doesn’t,” he squinted his eyes threateningly, “I am here to help him come to his senses. After all, that’s what family is for.”

Lan Xichen looked down, his face full of understanding and contentment.

“And Wangji is…?” he asked, not really intending to finish the question.

“Sleeping, of course,” waved his hand Wei Wuxian. “He still has half an hour or so left before this creepy habit of his will tell him to rise and shine.”

Having made sure his brother was fine, Lan Xichen had only one more thing that bothered him at the moment, so he directed his thoughtful gaze at Wei Wuxian.

“Young Master Wei, I wanted to ask you…” he started, but lost his confidence mid-sentence. Instead of continuing he looked at Jin Ling, who, having been listening to them only moments ago, was already peacefully snoring on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, clenching the hilt of Suihua in one hand, and an unfinished pie in the other one.

“Yes, Zewu-Jun? Is there something I can do for you?” urged him Wei Wuxian with enthusiasm.

Lan Xichen shook his head slowly, reserving the question. Maybe for later, maybe for himself.

“If Sect Leader Jiang is awake at the moment, I will pay him a visit. He may be too busy for us to speak during the day,” he said instead.

“He is resting in the pavilion on the other side of the residence, contemplating about his behaviour. At least I hope so. Does Zewu-Jun want me to show him the way?” asked Wei Wuxian. He did not move a single muscle of his body and sat in quite an uncomfortable position with a hunched back, afraid to wake up Jin Ling.

“There is no need. Please, take care of Young Master Jin and have some rest as well, Young Master Wei,” said Lan Xichen and bowed respectfully before departing.

Wei Wuxian watched him leave, awkwardly covering his eyes from the bright morning sun. Jin Ling produced a quiet growl of displeasure, so he hurried to move the hand back where it belonged. He knew it was too early for the question to be voiced. The time would come later.

On his way to the pavilion, Lan Xichen barely encountered any other people. The cultivators of the Yunmeng Jiang sect rarely woke up so early, so it was uncommon for somebody to practice at such an hour. He stumbled across one of his own disciples, who could neither fall asleep nor fully wake up and instead only sat all alone and played on his guqin. It did not take Lan Xichen long to recognize the sounds of his music and determine that it was Lan Sizhui. Not wanting to wake anybody up, he carefully plucked the strings, barely even touching them, but the melody was still as precise and smooth as it had always been when he would be playing in Cloud Recess. Zewu-Jun complimented him and advised to try and meditate if he could not fall asleep, to which Lan Sizhui readily agreed.

The pavilion stood solitary amid the clear waters of the lake, with only one narrow wooden bridge leading to it. Fluttering in the warm wind, ribbons of different hues of purple hung down from the beams while semi-transparent curtains protected the inside from the sunrays. The figure inside was sitting with its back to him, facing the view of the placid lake with only a few small ferries crossing it.

“Sect Leader Lan,” uttered the figure, still looking into the distance.

Lan Xichen entered the pavilion with careful gracious steps, not a single wooden floorboard creaking beneath his feet.

Jiang Cheng turned around and offered him a seat at the opposite side of the table that stood in the middle of the pavilion. Lan Xichen sat down and adjusted his robes, never disregarding his appearance.

“I apologize for bothering the Sect Leader. I do not have any pressing matters, so I shall leave if Sect Leader Jiang is willing to be alone now,” he said despite already having taken a seat.

Jiang Cheng offered him a plate of lotus seeds he had been mindlessly peeling while sitting in the pavilion for some time, the expression on his face milder than the last time the two saw each other.

“Please, be my guest, Zewu-Jun. I do not want to limit you in any way when you are visiting Lotus Pier. You are free to go wherever you like whenever you want,” he said.

Lan Xichen nodded and accepted his offering, taking a few seeds from the small porcelain plate decorated by lotus ornaments.

Hearing quiet breathing coming from below the table, Lan Xichen looked down and saw Jin Ling’s spiritual dog sleeping tight beside Jiang Cheng. It laid its head on one of his feet. He did not seem like he wanted it to move away.

Following Lan Xichen’s gaze, Jiang Cheng smiled with the corners of his lips and rolled his eyes, scratching the dog behind its black floppy ear with his slender pale fingers.

“It followed me all around the place and I could not get rid of it no matter what I did. It has always preferred Jin Ling over me, but today it seems to have set as its goal not leaving me alone for even a second.” His smile faded, and he spoke again. “Sect Leader Lan, I am truly sorry for what you had to see in the forest. My behaviour was inappropriate. I hope it will not diminish the relationships between the Lan sect and the Jiang sect. I also hope you will be able to forget this incident,” he said calmly.

Zewu-Jun looked at him, and their eyes met.

“It is not my task to judge if Sect Leader Jiang’s behaviour was wrong, so, please, do not trouble yourself with such thoughts. We are here to support the Jiang sect, be it on the nighthunt or beyond it. If Sect Leader Jiang wants me to feel comfortable, then my only wish would be for him to settle his relations with his nephew. We never wanted to disturb the peace in Lotus Pier with our arrival.”

“It is only fair for you to ask for that,” agreed Jiang Cheng and petted Fairy’s huge head that was now resting on his knees. The dog was drooling a bit on his neat clothing, but he did not mind.

“In fact, I came to Sect Leader Jiang with a proposal. I humbly ask for him to lend me his ears and see if it might interest him,” said Lan Xichen and laid his right hand atop his left hand on the table before him, not saying a word before Jiang Cheng agreed.

“It will be my honour,” replied Jiang Cheng with a nod.

“I understand that Sect Leader’s way of cultivation and of seeing the world is different from mine, but I cannot help but worry for his well-being,” started Lan Xichen carefully, checking if Jiang Cheng got upset over his words. No negative reaction followed, so he continued. “No matter the cause, Sect Leader Jiang seems to worry a lot lately. I am not here to annoy him with questions, of course, only to offer a helping hand. Even if Sect Leader Jiang is not experiencing any major inconveniences concerned with his accumulated emotional and physical exhaustion at the moment, the consequences of the qi deviation…” he gulped, gasped for air, and forcefully continued a bit louder to stop his voice from shaking, “the consequences might be dire. The last thing I would want to see is another person suffering from it because of my noninterference.”

“And Zewu-Jun’s proposal is…?” asked Jiang Cheng, his eyes opened wide and voice more curious than angry or displeased.

“The song of clarity. I could play it for Sect Leader Jiang once in a certain period of time if the offer does not seem too impudent,” finished Lan Xichen, looking up with tiny sparks of hope twinkling in his amber eyes.

“Could Sect Leader Lan play it on the xiao for me?” asked Jiang Cheng, turning away nonchalantly.

“I tend to play it on guqin, but if Sect Master Jiang prefers the xiao, then I will consider his wish,” replied Lan Xichen, his face lighting up.

“Then so be it. When shall we start?”

“Why not start today?” asked Lan Xichen, gently stroking Liebing.

Jiang Cheng laughed sonorously and leaned back against the wooden pillar behind him.

“Is Zewu-Jun afraid I will reconsider and refuse his offer if given the time? I would not take such a risk after I have already agreed out loud.”

“If Sect Leader Jiang says so, then I dare not have even a sliver of a doubt,” said Lan Xichen softly and took the white jade xiao in his hands, getting ready to play. In a matter of seconds, his weariness after the nighthunt seemed to disappear completely.

With a delicate musical instrument caressed by his fingers, snowy white robes of outmost cleanliness lightly tugged by the breaths of wind, and a cloud patterned ribbon coiling around his forehead and sliding down with the waves of his hair, he looked completely out of place. He eclipsed everything around him, and the surrounding looked duller when juxtaposed to his presence. And so, the gaze of an observer could only be directed at him, as nothing else was able to compete with the sight.

Jiang Cheng sat straight and closed his eyes. It was time for him to meditate.

Chapter 4: Intense

A few months have passed and not a single session of meditation was called off by either of the sides. What Lan Xichen defined as a “certain period of time” at first turned out to be two weeks due to him worrying that he might be too persistent, then gradually dwindled to one week, and finally ended up being only five days. As much as Jiang Cheng tried to persuade him not to come so often, worrying that he had to travel from Gusu to Yunmeng and back each time they arranged for a meditation, Lan Xichen was unshaken, seeing how Jiang Cheng did not really mean what he said. He wasn’t a very good liar and only said it out of courtesy, perhaps, not even trying to sound convincing.

Each time Lan Xichen mounted his sword to go to Lotus Pier, his disciples circled him in the yard and wished him good luck on his way there. They strongly believed their sect leader to be the most righteous and unselfish person to ever exist and were simply lost in admiration to him. Lately he tried to spend more time with them and dedicated every free minute he had to their teaching so that they wouldn’t miss their Huanguang-Jun so much. As Zewu-Jun was known to be an extremely kindhearted and gentle person, it did not take him long to make them cling to him every time he had to depart to play the song of clarity to the leader of the Jiang sect.

As much as Lan Xichen enjoyed staying in Lotus Pier, he still always tried to return as soon as he could, remembering that in his dear Cloud Recess there were these younglings that demanded constant attention and care. He would often hurry back without even giving the sect leader the honour of dining with him.

This time was no different.

He hung Liebing back on his waist, noting with delight that Jiang Cheng seemed much calmer after their regular meetings. He would still roll his eyes in irritation when Jin Ling suddenly barged in with his dog at his feet and a stupid question on his tongue and interrupt their session, but it was just a part of who he was. Notwithstanding, he never let himself repeat the nighthunt incident.

Zewu-Jun wanted to bid farewell and leave so as to get to Gusu before the sunset, but Jiang Cheng called to him, seeing how he had almost fled the main hall already.

“I know that Sect Master Lan is incredibly busy and already makes me a great favour by coming to Lotus Pier so often, but there was one more thing I wanted to ask of him,” he said, still sitting in his lotus throne on the dais.

Zewu-Jun turned around with overt curiosity in his eyes.

“I am anxious to hear what it might be,” he uttered.

“Jin Ling prepared some tea for Zewu-Jun and really wanted him to stay for a little while longer. Between the two of us, this child has never previously tried to do something for others out of his own volition, so I thought this opportunity could not be missed. Is there any chance that Zewu-Jun will find another hour to spend in Lotus Pier before departing? I am afraid, I will not be able to join in, but Jin Ling will surely keep the Sect Leader company.”

“If that pleases Sect Leader Jiang, then I will not refuse it this time,” bowed deeply Lan Xichen.

A sect disciple entered, greeted him politely, and proceeded to lead him to the chambers in which Jin Ling was awaiting their arrival.

The youth already squatted at the table behind a beautifully painted screen. His dog sat at the door as if guarding the room from intruders. It barked playfully when Lan Xichen entered.

“Zewu-Jun,” greeted him Jin Ling, bowing down with the sword in his locked hands. “Please, take a seat here, I will arrange everything. Why isn’t uncle Jiang with Zewu-Jun? Is he going to be late?”

“Sect Leader Jiang is unable to take part in the ceremony, Young Master Jin,” replied Lan Xichen, confused by Jin Ling not knowing about that.

“Wha-?”

Jin Ling stood with a teapot lid in one hand and glanced at Lan Xichen.

“Did he…? How unfair!” he muttered indignantly.

Remembering who sat before him, he pulled himself together and continued brewing the tea, annoyed at his uncle’s behaviour.

While waiting, Lan Xichen looked at a small exquisite object lying on his side of the table.

“Young Master Jin, could it be that this is one of Jiang sect’s clarity bells?” he asked, touching it gingerly.

“Yes, it is! Does Zewu-Jun like it?” asked Jin Ling in return, discarding the first brew and preparing the next one.

The bell looked fragile and sophisticated, with lotus petals of extreme detail carved on its surface. It was similar to the bells worn by Jiang sect disciples, but looked much more intricate and very carefully put together. When shook, it produced a clear sound that was pleasing to the ear, and, as known by many, due to the abundance of spiritual force inside, could easily clear the mind of its owner and help them regain their balance. Strangely enough, this one in particular had light-blue tassel attached to it instead of a purple one usually worn in Yunmeng.

“It may very well be the most beautiful one I have ever seen,” replied Lan Xichen, involuntarily starting twirling the tassel around his finger.

“What a relief! Uncle Jiang was worried Zewu-Jun would not see it fit,” said Jin Ling with enthusiasm and offered Lan Xichen a small cup of clear steaming tea.

Lan Xichen looked at him, his eyes testifying that he absolutely did not understand what Jin Ling was talking about.

Jin Ling mirrored his facial expression, his hand having stopped half the way to the bell on the table.

“Did he not even…? I…” he lowered his eyelids and let out a tired sigh. “I am sorry. Sect Leader Lan, this is a gift from uncle Jiang. He really appreciates your help and feels obliged to express his gratitude in this way. This clarity bell was made specifically for you, so not only does it hold more power than the regular one, but it also is a sign that you are a friend of the Jiang sect and to be respected all around these lands.”

Cursing his uncle for the fact that he was the one who had to say all of this, he took the bell and offered it to Zewu-Jun on the palms of his hands.

Lan Xichen silently took it, the long light-blue tassel so soft to the touch dangling as he held it. He thought that he could not accept such a gift, but Jin Ling was looking at him with eyes so full dignity for the quality of the object entrusted onto him, that he simply could not utter the words of refusal. After all, it was not the youngster’s decision to offer it.

He cupped the bell in his hands and bowed. After he hung it on the belt on his waist beside Liebing, he took the cup with tea that was now acceptable to drink, and made a small sip.

“Was there anything that Young Master Jin wanted to ask me while I am staying in Lotus Pier?” he asked, wanting to show how appreciative he was of the gift. He remembered that Jiang Cheng said something about Jin Ling wanting him to stay, and assumed it was for some particular reason.

Jin Ling’s eyes rounded in astonishment as it sounded as if he once again did not know of something necessary to understand the meaning of the question. Having realized the reason, he clenched his fist under the table, similarly to how his uncle would do it, and forced himself to smile.

“It is good that Zewu-Jun asked. There was this one thing about, eh, hm… about guqin that I do not quite… do not quite comprehend…” he began. His attempt was so feeble that was it not for how Lan Xichen always rejoiced over the younger generation seeking his wisdom, he would definitely understand that something was wrong.

“How interesting! What is it?” he asked, carefully sipping the tea.

“Well, um… so, there are these strings, and…”

Fairy yawned with its mouth open wide and stretched its front legs before lying down. It felt like letting down its guard for once.

Taking such a valuable and thoughtful gift, Lan Xichen, of course, was not able to not give anything in return. Being in Cloud Recess, he meandered around the disciple housings and chambers of the residence for the next day, musing over what he could give as a gift as worthy as the one he had received. His disciples followed him like little ducklings follow their mother, thinking that he had a complicated dilemma on his mind and wanting to be there when he would finally ask them for help.

Since the clarity bell was a very symbolic object for the Jiang sect, the only other thing of similar significance he could think of was the Lan forehead ribbon, but it was not even an option worth mentioning. Some sect members would consider even thinking about this to be unacceptable. Discarding it, he tried to remember what the leader on the Jiang sect liked.

The young disciples noticed the troubled face he tended to have every time he was thinking deeply about something, and exchanged worried glances.

It was certainly dogs, he thought to himself. Dogs and fighting. Also eating traditional Yunmeng dishes. For sure, not having to deal with other cultivators’ clans and being able to stay in Lotus Pier, watching over his sect. What he enjoyed occupying himself with while staying was training, spending time with Jin Ling on the nighthunts, some more trainings, and…

Suddenly, Lan Xichen’s face brightened up. He abruptly stood up from the bench, and his disciples stood up with him. They waited for him to finally say something to them, but all he did was leave them hastily without any explanations.

Lan Jingyi sighed disappointedly and followed the others to the library pavilion. There was nothing else for them to do at this time of the day other than study.

A few days later, Zewu-Jun yet again arrived in Lotus Pier, carrying a light oblong wooden box in his hands. The box looked elegant, but it was difficult to guess what was in it.

He came across Jiang Cheng in the training yard, exactly when he was teaching his disciples the sword stances. They repeated the movements in unison while he corrected every motion that seemed wrong to him.

“You, raise your hand higher! Are you holding your sword or a plough?” he yelled at one of them, hitting with his stiffened hand the shoulders and legs of those who stood too awkwardly or did not follow the guide with enough precision.

His disciples did not whine or cry for him to stop, only thoroughly obeyed his commands as best as they could.

Lan Xichen did not want to interrupt their lesson, but Jiang Cheng had already noticed him arrive.

“Sect Leader Lan,” he said and bowed, “I am sorry to keep you waiting, but I need to finish the training before I can join you in the great hall.”

He threw a quick glance at the bell hanging on Lan Xichen’s waist and hastily turned away so that his guest wouldn’t notice. However, the white box in Zewu-Jun’s hands immediately drew his attention back, and he started examining it with interest.

“It goes without saying, Sect Leader Jiang,” replied Zewu-Jun.

Jiang Cheng was not able to hide the curiosity in his eyes, so Lan Xichen spoke again before he got the chance to ask anything.

“This is just a little something I brought for Sect Leader Jiang,” he said and smiled, his eyes adopting the shape of crescents.

Jiang Cheng gulped and nodded. It was so obvious that he wanted to immediately find out what it was, but since he asked nothing, Lan Xichen just proceeded to the great hall, not to disturb the training with his presence. He expected having to wait for at least half an hour, but Jiang Cheng joined him about five minutes later.

“I sincerely hope the training is over not because of me arriving so early today,” remorsefully commented Lan Xichen, sitting at one of the tables in the hall.

“Absolutely not. We were… already finishing anyway,” murmured Jiang Cheng and halted a few steps into the room as if musing about something. He then took a seat on his throne, unable to hide his excitement.

Zewu-Jun stood up and approached the dais. He held up the box in his hands and bowed his head ever so slightly, presenting his gift to Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng hesitated before extremely carefully opening the lid. Inside on a soft white pillow laid a long xiao made of lavender jasper. It looked unusual due to the colour of the stone being uneven and at places pierced by white and yellowish veins.

Confused, he did not find anything he could say to such a gift, and only took the xiao out of the box with his slightly trembling fingers, for some reason being infinitely scared to drop it on the floor. It looked like it would instantly break to pieces from taking such a fall.

“I was reflecting a lot upon the gift I could give to Sect Leader Jiang, and having remembered all of the sessions we have conducted so far, I realized that the best gift I could give to him was this,” said Lan Xichen proudly.

It was true that he had put much thought into the gift he decided give to the leader of the Jiang sect. After carefully considering all of the possibilities, he arrived at the conclusion that xaio was indeed the most meaningful and symbolic of all of them, as he intended it to become his display of trust, sincerity, and care. Despite the instrument being so similar to his own, it actually was only recently created by skillful masters specifically for this occasion. The material, the carvings, and even the shape was chosen by Lan Xichen personally with him taking into account peculiar personality and likes of its future owner.

Jiang Cheng smiled awkwardly and inspected the instrument in his hands.

“Now that I can learn to play myself, I will not have to bother Sect Leader Lan and ask him to come to the sessions…” he mumbled unconfidently.

“That is certainly a possibility,” replied Lan Xichen, still smiling, “but the song of clarity is infamous for its difficulty, so I wouldn’t expect that to happen in the nearest future. If the Sect Leader is willing, I could try and teach him to play something, be the moment suitable.”

“If I am willing?” asked Jiang Cheng and raised his eyes from the xiao. “I thought, Zewu-Jun gave me this gift so that I could learn how to play and…” he finished uncertainly, not knowing what was it exactly that he wanted to say.

“I only thought Sect Leader Jiang enjoyed these meetings, and wanted to give him something that would remind him of them. It also seems like Sect Leader Jiang finds pleasure in listening to the sound of xiao, so I would be eager to teach him if he decided that he wanted to play on his own someday,” said Lan Xichen, a little upset by Jiang Cheng’s rection.

Jiang Cheng positioned the xiao as if he wanted to try and blow in it, but then decided not to. He noted that it was quite nice to the touch, the stone being smooth and cool. He put it back into the box and took the box from Lan Xichen’s hands, bowing deeply.

“Thank you, Sect Leader Lan, I will treasure it. I don’t think I am ready to learn yet, but, please, know that I view this as a very thoughtful and useful present.”

“Does… Sect Leader Jiang really like it?” asked Zewu-Jun, unconsciously tugging on the bell on his waist, unconvinced by his words.

“Its beauty is unparalleled and it is remarkably strong as a spiritual weapon. Much to my displeasure, it would simply be disrespectful towards such an instrument if I used it before giving it a proper name,” answered Jiang Cheng and smiled, this time more sincerely. There was kindness in his eyes, so it seemed like he did not make up what he was saying anymore.

Lan Xichen sighed with relief. When it came to Jiang Cheng, one could never be sure of what his reaction would be to anything he was presented with, at least if it was not puppies he was gifted.

“Shall we begin the session then?” he asked.

“It is high time,” replied Jiang Cheng. He went back to his throne and sat down, putting the box close to him.

As their meetings passed, they gifted each other a few more other things, though, less significant than the clarity bell and the xiao.

Chapter 5: Charming

Lan Xichen knew that he might not get another opportunity like this in a very long time. It was quite a lucky coincidence that Wei Wuxian just happened to be visiting Lotus Pier again when he himself felt like he could not keep the unanswered questions in him any longer.

“Young Master Wei, may I take a few minutes of your time?” he asked, running into him near the same pond they spoke at a few months back.

“Of course, Zewu-Jun. I am all ears,” answered Wei Wuxian and curiously peeked at Lan Xichen’s worried face.

“I wanted to speak to you about… Sect Leader Jiang. If you have nothing against it.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Zewu-Jun, but doesn’t one of the Lan sect core rules prohibit discussing others behind their backs?” asked Wei Wuxian mockingly.

Lan Xichen barely ever felt like the rules of his sect were unfair or obliging them hindered him in any way, but it was really starting to become a much bigger problem when the outsiders knew of them as well.

“It looks like I have been exposed,” he said and let out a nervous laugh. “But if you know me well, Young Master Wei, you realize that I would not have asked, had it not been something of utmost importance.”

“That is true,” agreed Wei Wuxian. “I will answer your question with all honesty and I promise not to tell anyone of your secret,” he said and jokingly raised three fingers as if taking an oath.

“Very well. Did something happen to Sect Leader…” Lan Xichen stopped mid-sentence and shook his head – no, that was not it. “Did I do anything to Sect Leader Jiang?” he tried again. “Did I say something insulting? Was it that he considered some of my actions unacceptable for some reason?”

Wei Wuxian frowned in an exaggerated manner and put a finger to his lips.

“I cannot think of anything Zewu-Jun could possibly do to offend Jiang Cheng, only the other way around. What makes Zewu-Jun think something like that has ever happened?”

Lan Xichen sighed. There was no other possibility for him to get the answer he so desperately needed other than sharing his observations. It was incredibly hard for him to partake in a conversation of this sort, but he managed to persuade himself that he was doing it for the greater good.

“I noticed how Sect Leader Jiang was looking at me. It might be nothing and I might worry for no reason, but I felt like he was deeply insulted by my mere presence. He just looked so enraged and unhappy. It happened a few times, and each time I felt the same resentment coming from him. Unfortunately, I cannot arrive at any conclusion as to what makes him behave like this without any help from the outside.”

“So, Sect Leader Lan is telling me that Jiang Cheng has been staring at him constantly, looking like he is on the edge of bursting?” concluded briefly Wei Ying.

Lan Xichen did not answer as this paraphrasing of what he had said seemed too crude to agree to.

“Well,” blurted Wie Wuxian, not really needing any answer at all, and stuffed his mouth with a bunch of lotus seeds before continuing, “then he must have fancied you.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Lan Xichen dumbfoundedly. Wei Wuxian found it incredibly amusing and thought that never before had he seen the leader of the Gusu Lan sect having such an odd expression on his face.

“I said that he had taken a liking to Zewu-Jun,” he explained, taking pity on his interlocutor. “But he is probably so undecisive in his attraction that he just struggles with it all the time, and it is reflected in his appearance.”

“But…” stumbled Lan Xichen, failing to finish his utterance.

“He has always been like that as a child – too proud to go the easy way. Always pretends not to care for something he wants for himself so that others would not notice his weakness. Some people just prefer to suffer, I guess. Although, I must admit, never before have I seen him this agitated about something.”

“But…” ventured Lan Xichen again, but still wasn’t able to find any suitable words.

“But what do I know?” laughed suddenly Wei Wuxian. “I haven’t been beside him for so many years, it’s not like he couldn’t have changed during this time, right?”

Lan Xichen did not know if he was to protest or quietly sigh at such a remark.

“Please, Sect Leader Lan, disregard what I said if it makes you feel better. In any case, there is no person that can give you the right answer apart from Jiang Cheng himself, so if he is not talking… You can always make him,” said Wei Wuxian instructively and grinned.

Lan Xichen stood silently and kept looking at Wei Wuxian who was still nonchalantly stuffing his mouth with peeled lotus seeds. He had heard his every word but still somehow felt as if nothing made sense to him. He was confused, but very quickly his confusion started to evolve into something else, something restless and almost raging. All this time he was worried sick that he somehow offended Jiang Cheng, that he was careless enough to say or do something unforgivable, something that made this person hate him so much that it was difficult for Jiang Cheng to be in the same room with him. He would certainly have called this situation ridiculous, had he not spent so many hours contemplating on his own attitude and behaviour because of all this.

“Just give it a try,” said Wei Ying, tired of Lan Xichen standing there, unable to utter a word to him, and pointed to the entrance to the great hall. “He’s in his quarters now, reading one of the books Sect Leader Lan gave him.”

Lan Xichen thought that he would try. There was no point in beating around the bush anymore. After all, he wasn’t sure if he should believe Wei Wuxian. On the one hand, he would gain absolutely nothing by lying about this, on the other hand though, he could still not be trusted so easily. The only natural solution to this problem was speaking to Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen already regretted not having done it earlier. Maybe, it would’ve made his life much, much easier.

Not stopping for any distractions on his way, he rushed inside to find Jiang Cheng and finally clarify the relationships between them. He was in such a hurry that he even forgot to thank Wei Wuxian for his help which was something the latter one never expected would happen.

His heart skipped a beat when he finally came across Jiang Cheng’s figure resting with a book in his hand in his private chambers. He took a few deep breaths, seemingly being able to calm down considerably, and entered without even a knock or a cough.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he thundered, startling Jiang Cheng, “I came here to talk. I hope you will be able to spare me a minute of your time as I consider the topic I want to discuss to be of great significance.”

Jiang Cheng threw a puzzled glance at him, but still closed his book and carefully put it away. He would’ve agreed to whatever Zewu-Jun wanted to do anyway, but seeing him so agitated really convinced him it was a matter that was not to be taken lightly.

“Of course. Whatever it is that Sect Leader Lan wanted to discuss, I will be glad to provide my assistance and insight,” he replied and motioned for Lan Xichen to sit down with him, but Xichen couldn’t be less bothered by that, so he remained standing.

“It is about the feelings of a certain person present in the room. Lately I’ve been experiencing… difficulties understanding them, so I decided to come and ask directly. Please, tell me, Sect Leader Jiang, what do you think of me? I cannot help but become frustrated with your behaviour and… find myself cornered. Is there, perhaps, something you would like to tell me? Something, that would make it all clear to me? I just find continuing like this… really hard.”

Immediately after saying that Lan Xichen felt easier already. Even though he did not yet get any explanation whatsoever, venting about the feeling of frustration that accompanied him for quite some time now made his head clearer and his heart lighter. Now he only needed to hear what Jiang Cheng had to tell him, and everything would fall back on its places, everything would be easy and definite for him, just the way it should be.

Jiang Cheng’s shoulders suddenly curved forward. With a brooding expression overtaking his face, he fixed his eyes at the book on the table and thought that it was all over for him. Nothing would be the same anymore, no matter how hard he tried.

“I am sorry, Sect Leader Lan…” he began, and Lan Xichen already got his hopes up only for them to be shattered by his next words. “I really have nothing to say. It pains to hear me that you felt this way for some reason, but I have nothing to share with you. Now, if you don’t mind…”

All the lightness disappeared from Lan Xichen’s chest. The energy that was flowing out of him suddenly got tied in a tight knot, and he thought that it really was unbearable. Dealing with such a person, constantly guessing what was on their mind, trying to piece together what they told you and what they displayed on their face… One had to be in possession of a constant supply of patience and understanding to be able to put up with it. He realized that he probably wasn’t the one capable of that.

“Jiang Wanyin! Do you think I will not know what you have on your mind if you do not speak up?” he thundered, looking Jiang Cheng straight in the eyes. There was no other way for him to proceed, at least he saw none at the moment when he decided to raise his voice.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes rounded at first, but then screwed as he smiled almost mischievously. He almost felt like letting out a grin despite the situation he was in seemingly being quite serious.

Lan Xichen immediately regretted asserting himself and tried to retreat. Under Jiang Cheng’s mocking glance, he did not know where to hide, and the tips of his ears reddened a bit from embarrassment for how he behaved. Hearing his own voice being so loud and forceful when addressing somebody who probably also struggled with their thoughts and feelings for some time, he immediately became upset and realized that he shouldn’t have poured everything that he had on his mind with little to no consideration about the effect it would produce.

“I… I did not mean to say it like that, Sandu Sengshou. Please, forgive me,” he muttered and pinched his lips.

Jiang Cheng produced a few harsh laughs and tilted his head to the side, derisive attitude not disappearing from his posture. It was surprising how fast he could go from upset to self-righteous with almost no effort.

“Oh, please, Sect Leader Lan, do not ruin my impression of you with apologies. Seeing this side of you is not something many can brag about. How can I even be mad?” he asked in a frivolous way. He thought many times about how this conversation would go, and he had no doubts that it would take place someday, but not even once did he imagine such an involved reaction from Lan Xichen’s side. Everything was not happening as he had expected and it made him feel excitement mixed with a pinch of fright in regards to what could follow next.

The blush from Lan Xichen’s ears slowly crawled to his face. For a person like him it was a completely disaster, losing control over himself in such a manner.

“Nevertheless, I am truly sorry for using your courtesy name so carelessly when I did not have the right to do it. For us to be even, the only thing I can do is tell you mine, so that you could also-”

“Lan Huan,” said Jiang Cheng hoarsely, purposefully interrupting Lan Xichen and thoroughly articulating every syllable. “Here you go,” he added, delighted at Lan Xichen’s confused face. “I also said it, now Zewu-Jun does not have to worry about being disrespectful.”

After the man before him called him by his courtesy name, hearing “Zewu-Jun” again felt strange to Lan Xichen. Realizing that, he said, almost whispering, “It sounded good.” Everything started to make sense for him suddenly. It turned out that this whole time Jiang Cheng was not the only one perplexed and unable to express what he was feeling.

A smug smile slowly faded from Jiang Cheng’s face. Light pink covered his cheeks, and he sat there, completely lost.

“What?” he finally managed to mumble, frowning to hide his own daze now.

“You calling my name,” said Lan Xichen quietly, beginning to understand. It was probably still a long road for them to go, but with him now having a vague idea of what he wanted to hear and what he wanted to say in return, it would undoubtedly become an easier journey for both of them.

“Lan… Huan?” ventured Jiang Cheng again, this time not confident at all.

“Yes?”

“I thought, maybe we could… practice playing the xiao together?” asked Jiang Cheng carefully. The instrument gifted to him by Lan Xichen was lying in its box on a special display in his chambers.

If it was how he tried to escape the topic, thought Lan Xichen, then it was quite an entertaining attempt. Not that there was even the slightest chance it would work, though, no. He just found it somehow sweet, and so decided to play along, not to rob his interlocutor of his temporary safe harbour.

“Have you already given a name to it?” he asked with sincere interest in his voice.

“I have not. But I also thought… if I continue to do everything the same way I did, nothing will ever change for me,” said Jiang Cheng, and Lan Xichen immediately realized that there had to be more to his words. He also realized he had been standing this whole time, so he hurried to sit down and stop trying to intimidate Jaing Cheng with his erect posture.

“And you want something to change?” he asked gingerly.

“I think so.”

Lan Xichen almost wanted to go ahead and ask what exactly Jiang Cheng had on his mind, but it took him too long to gain the courage for it, so Jiang Cheng spoke again.

“Will you help me find a suitable name for the xiao?” he asked in such a voice as though it was something he had been wanting to ask for a very long time.

“What makes you think I am the right person to ask?”

Jiang Cheng threw a quick unreadable glance at him before shaking his head and turning away.

“…It is nothing, I will do it myself.”

“I do not refuse!” said Lan Xichen, perhaps, more eagerly than he would want to admit. “I am just… curious.”

“I cannot say it,” answered Jiang Cheng, still carefully examining the wall.

“Why?”

Lan Xichen felt his heart pounding like never before. He was afraid to admit that he hoped for some specific outcome of this conversation. The atmosphere became so peculiar and tense that he simply did not know how to calm himself down anymore.

“It might change everything for me,” said Jiang Cheng quietly.

“Didn’t you say you wanted something to change, Jiang Wanyin?” asked Lan Xichen. For some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from being persistent in his inquiries.

Jiang Cheng sighed uneasily and frowned again as if overcoming some internal struggles.

“Why is it that you have to suddenly be so pushy today?” he asked, trying to avoid giving any direct answer again.

“I thought you liked it when I was like this,” said Lan Xichen, feeling the wave of heat hitting his cheeks. It was a new feeling to him, wanting to say something like that despite his mind doing its best to prevent him from doing that.

“Mn,” only let out Jiang Cheng.

“Will you answer me?”

“No,” said Jiang Cheng, shaking his head. He stood up and turned away. He felt like his face was burning. He could neither stop this conversation nor suffer through it, so made a decision to go for the door in a very foolish and desperate attempt to escape the room and flee to the corridor which was flooded with people among whom he would feel safe again.

“Why is it that you suddenly turn out to be such a coward?” asked Lan Xichen with a tone of minor annoyance in his voice and grabbed Jiang Cheng by his wrist, reaching out over the table.

Jaing Cheng clenched his fists and stopped.

“I am many things, but I am not a coward,” he said resolutely.

Lan Xichen took away his hand, fearing he had already overdone it and wounded Jiang Cheng’s pride. During those few seconds he held his wrist, he felt a quickened pulse, as quick as his own, beating under tense skin.

“Why don’t you face me when we are conversing?” he asked, trying to make Jaing Cheng stay and bring it all to a least some sort of conclusion.

“I thought the talk was already over,” uttered Jiang Cheng, but still did what Zewu-Jun wanted him to.

“Do you remember what I told you earlier?” asked Lan Xichen.

“That it pleases you when I call you by your name?” asked Jiang Cheng in return. He had to force himself to say that, of course, but he simply could not remain the only one cornered because he had to listen to something that was so embarrassing for him.

“N-no, not that,” stumbled Lan Xichen and sighed, covering his forehead and eyes with his hand. “I said that even if you didn’t say what was on your mind aloud, I would still know.”

Jiang Cheng had a vague idea of where that knowledge could come from, but decided not to voice his suppositions. It was no use bringing it up now, he would still not escape the problematic topic and only enrage himself.

“If you already know, then what else do you expect me to say? Maybe, you just also find making fun of me amusing?”

“You might have noticed that I am not laughing. And I would not call your behaviour amusing at all,” answered Lan Xichen with a truly straight face.

“Then what would you call it?”

“Charming.”

As abruptly as it came, all the arrogance disappeared from Jiang Cheng’s demeanor and he silently gasped, not knowing how to react or where to hide from Lan Xichen’s gaze. He would give everything to be in his yard, training his disciples, or in the forest, stalking a prey with his nephew. He would take anything, but not this.

“I… I do not know what we are talking about anymore,” he honestly admitted. He was perplexed at how they arrived here, trying to remember how such a conversation could have started.

Lan Xichen unfastened the clarity bell from his waist and displayed it on the palm of his hand on the table for Jiang Cheng to see.

“We are talking about your feelings,” he said more calmly. He realized he had to take the situation into his own hands or else they would never be able to resolve what they both got into. “If you really have nothing to say to me right now, then you can take this bell back.”

“And then what?” asked Jiang Cheng, expecting the worst.

“Nothing, I will just give it back to you. That is all.”

“But it was my gift to you,” muttered Jiang Cheng and Lan Zewu-Jun noticed how hurt he sounded.

“How should I know? You did not give it to me,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“But I… ugh.”

Jiang Cheng gritted his teeth. He could not say that he left the bell there for him and intentionally did not come, hoping that Jin Ling would do all the talking for him. There was really no way out for him anymore.

“It was me who carved it. A certain person once taught me how to do it, so I… I carved it for you. That is why I want you to keep it,” he finally admitted, realizing how funny and unnatural being so honest with someone felt.

“Thank you. For the bell, and for telling me,” said Lan Xichen and bowed slightly. He attached the bell back where it belonged with a look of contentment as if he did not want anything else.

“That is all?” asked Jiang Cheng. He unwillingly expected that he would have to say… more than that.

“All that I needed to hear,” nodded Lan Xichen.

He reached to the back of his head, where his forehead ribbon entwined with his hair, and untied it, letting it slide.

Jiang Cheng shook his head in disbelief and slowly backed away from the table. Before, it was all just talking, but now he knew how serious it was. He was absolutely not ready to bear the burden of such a responsibility.

“No, I cannot… I cannot…” he mumbled.

“What?” asked Lan Xichen as if completely oblivious to what was happening.

“I cannot… touch it.”

Lan Xichen smiled amiably and laid the ribbon on the table between them. Seeing him exclusively with his forehead ribbon on, Jiang Cheng felt almost uncomfortable looking at him without it, as if it was something too personal, like watching a person bathing. There was no drastic change in his appearance, of course, but something about him still seemed different.

“I made you feel vulnerable, and now I understand that. This is my way of showing you that I realize that and am willing to endure it with you. But it doesn’t mean I am going to let you touch the ribbon,” explained Zewu-Jun.

Jiang Cheng felt his body relax. He suddenly felt very light, but also very empty, as if something abandoned his chest without him agreeing to it. He quietly exhaled.

“I see,” he only uttered in return.

“…As that you will have to earn first,” added Lan Xichen. He tried hard to stay serious, but his lips involuntarily curved into a smile.

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth, but could not say anything. A peculiar mixture of emotion displayed on his face as he was trying hard to figure out if it was him understanding the occurrences correctly or just his wishful thinking tricking him into believing that.

He rose up from the floor yet again, his chest heaving. His eyes were staring intently at Lan Xichen and his top lip twitched a few times. Lan Xichen felt that it was almost the same look that haunted him previously, threatening, aggressive, unpredictable. But it wasn’t scary at all. Charming was still what he thought of it.

Jiang Cheng bent down with determination in his every movement, grabbed Lan Xichen by the lapels of his robes and leaned in for a kiss. He could not tolerate that smile on his face and that confidence in his words. He still felt like he was teased and ridiculed, and so he grabbed the lapels tighter, almost pulling Lan Xichen up from his seat. Their teeth clanked a couple of times because of Jiang Cheng’s vigour, but he did not even care. His only concern was the emotions that he was not able to get rid of for so long, so he clung to Zewu-Jun as if it was the last time he saw him.

When the latter one managed to steady his position in Jiang Cheng’s grip, he slowly stood up, trying to use the fact that he was a bit taller than the leader of the Jiang sect as an advantage, even though the table between them remained quite an obstacle.

He finally made up his mind and touched the side of Jiang Cheng’s pale face with his fingers. He caressed it lightly and moved his hand further, passing the ear and the braid that was neatly stuck into the bun on the back of his head. He touched the ink-black hair airily a few times, as if afraid to ruin the perfect hair-do. His heart was loudly pounding in his ears. He put his other hand on Jiang Cheng’s waist and slowly pulled him closer.

Feeling the grip on his side, Jiang Cheng sprung away from Lan Xichen as if electrocuted. He adjusted his clothes nervously and laid his hand on the side of the neck, avoiding direct eye contact.

“You…”

“My hand slipped. I am sorry,” muttered Zewu-Jun, a bit disappointed that everything ended as suddenly as it had begun. Sorry was the last thing that he was now.

Jiang Cheng pouted either at what had happened or at how shamelessly Lan Xichen tried to lie to him.

“Isn’t Sect Leader Lan late to Cloud Recess?” he asked with indignation in his voice. “I am sure the Gusu Lan disciples are already waiting ardently for his return.

Lan Xichen closed the distance between them in a few swift steps. There was no table to separate them anymore, and he found himself not even caring if somebody walked in on them right now as he slid both of his hands on Jiang Cheng’s waist, drawing him closer.

“Right now, I have some more pressing matters to attend to. I am sure they will understand,” he whispered and leaned for another kiss.

#Mo Dao Zu Shi #Grandmaster of Demonic cultivation #fiction #fanfiction #Jiang Cheng #Lan Xichen #jiang cheng x lan xichen #romance #comfort #fluff #Wei Wuxian #Lan Wangji #Jin Ling #untamed #untamed fanfiction

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bonnini · 3 years

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Well I promised you a post about my bi Geoffrey Martewall headcanons so here it is guys <3

So…as I previously mentioned in a tag under one of @agapantoblu's posts, I've been half-seriously headcanoning Geoffrey Martewall a.k.a. the best character in the Hypervesum series as a clueless bisexual for... well, for some time. Let's say a year and a half. I've never bothered actually sharing these headcanons online because I didn't really have a clear idea for an actual argument in support of this claim of mine, but now I’m finally ready to put the all the reasons why I get extra-strong bisexual vibes from Geoffrey Martewall into words. Beware…it’s a lot of words :’’)

Exhibit A: Geoffrey and women

1.1. Geoffrey’s taste in women is just too good

Listen. LISTEN. Our man’s taste in women is IMPECCABLE: he could, as Brianna said herself, have chosen to take any young noble maiden as his wife, but he decided to go for a woman that 1) is a couple years older than him 2) is not noble at all and, you know, used to be just a poor paesant before coming to Châtel-Argent 3) already has a son who was fathered by a French knight to whom she was never married and that she had to raise as a teen single mom 4) at the time of their first meeting had a crush on his current worst enemy. LISTEN!!!!!!!! Geoffrey’s taste in women is suspiciously good, way too good, in fact, to be that of a medieval straight guy. I mean…Ian, a man who comes from the 21st century, fell for the textbook angelic maiden, while Geoffrey literally did not even bother looking around for some young blushing bride and just decided that the hot milf who threatened him with a pitchfork in book 2 was his first and best choice. What an Absolute Fucking King. This choice of his is, in my opinion, very telling of the kind of view he has of romance and women in general.

Which brings me to the next point, namely:

1.2. Geoffrey appears to have an attitude towards women and a view of womanhood that are significantly more modern than those of an average knight of his time

Is it just me or is Geoffrey actually the one with the most… modern mindset out of all the knights starring in the saga? There are a couple of specific scenes that kind of make me think of him as an outlier among his peers, and although some of those are definitely there for the purpose of showing us that Martewall is indeed a rather peculiar knight, others contribute to creating the picture of a character that is almost… out of place in the 13th century?

Allow me to expand a bit further on the “Geoffrey and women” topic: we saw how chivalrous and respectful Geoffrey was towards an unconscious and injured Brianna. First he made sure her son was comfortable with him warming her up using his own body, and reassured him he meant no disrespect by removing her clothes; then, he proceeded to strip her in the most methodical and detached way possible, which let us know Geoffrey respects a woman’s body and modesty the way any proper, courteous medieval man would. But then there’s another, and in my opinion far more interesting, instance in which Geoffrey is seen interacting with a woman: I’m talking about his brief conversation with Blanche of Castile in book 3. Here we see 1) how Geoffrey treats women he is not attracted to (“not attracted to” as in: women he has no interest in romancing), and 2) to what degree he actually respects female authority.

Our first introduction to Blanche is the scene in which Guillaume, Ian and Henri de Bar are talking about her right before the audience in Paris, during which we learn that the vast majority of noblemen do not take her opinions seriously and do not appreciate seeing her talk during political debates. Even Henri de Bar, although he does not mean to be insolent, raises an eyebrow at the thought of a woman participating in conversations that concern military strategy, while Guillaume seems almost amused at Ian’s heartfelt defence of her speeches. Which is why Geoffrey’s brief interaction with her stands out so much: when she starts talking about the war in England with him, he carefully listens to her as if she were just another male superior officer: he does not appear even slightly surprised by her competence, he does not try to dumb down the topic of discussion, he listens carefully to what she is saying, he offers his opinion only when she asks for it and he answers her questions in the most straightforward way possible. At no point during the conversation does he ever attempt to pull the condescending “with all due respect, madame…” to correct or contradict her statements. He is not in courteous knight mode, he is in soldier mode, and is unfazed by the fact that the one he is discussing logistics and war strategy with is a delicate looking princess. Once again, the author is fleshing out Geoffrey’s character by having the protagonist and point of view character draw a direct comparison between him and other men. Martewall does not simply respect women as in “oh I’m a proper knight and I use my blade to protect defenceless maidens”, he actually, genuinely respects women.

Which in my opinion is such an interesting facet of his values and personality: in the second half of book 2, Ian notices how thoroughly Harald Martewall managed to drill the code of chivalry into his son’s head, and remarks on the fact that the Martewalls are all perfect examples of the True Old School Knights. Both Harald and Geoffrey are the embodiment of the honourable, unyielding, upright warrior trope, and they perfectly fit the image we modern people conjure in our minds when we think of a knight of the Middle Ages. This specific aspect of Geoffrey’s set of values gives his character a strong, let’s say “old-fashioned” connotation, and yet said set of values seems to come from an internal source rather than rely on tradition and external rules. He, for example, got rid of his helm and shield when he saw his adversary in combat was not fully equipped, but he also willingly assisted the Dauphin in taking over England despite having previously sworn an oath of loyalty to John Plantagenet, since his sense of honour compelled him to aid the man who provided him with the help he needed to get his home back. Geoffrey is way more likely to base his choices on what his own moral compass compels him to do rather than resort to convention and tradition to tell right from wrong. This makes Geoffrey a perfect blend of both old and modern qualities, and in the context of his relationship with women he tends to lean quite heavily on his more modern side.

Let’s go back to discussing his first introduction to Brianna for a second: he witnesses Brianna express her unrequited attraction to Ian, flirt with him and even mock-kiss him straight on the lips, and yet not only does that not make Geoffrey respect her any less, it also does not concern him at all later in book 3 when the story hints at the fact that he might have an interest in taking her as his wife. This is a rather unusual attitude! I mean, even the exuberant Etienne de Sancerre, who has shown an overt preference for feisty and confident women, grumbles and protests in jealousy when his wife Donna and Daniel greet each other with a hug while out in public, deeming the gesture to be inappropriate. What I’m trying to say here is that this is a man who is waaaaay ahead of his peers in regards to his view of women and womanhood, and who also appears to be very confident in his masculinity (so confident, in fact, that the thought of having to “put women in their place” never once crosses his mind), hence why I keep sensing the most excellent kind of bisexual vibes coming from him.

Exhibit B: Geoffrey and men

2.1 Jerome and Geoffrey’s friendship makes NO sense

And I mean it. Yes, we do read about Ian wondering how two people with such different sets of core values (ok maybe Jerome lacked core values all together lol) could have ever been friends, which means that yes, readers are in fact meant to notice how misguided Geoffrey is in his commitment to honour this bond of friendship and avenge Jerome’s death, but the more I think about this, the more I convince myself that this whole situation is, in fact…really weird.

Let’s start from the beginning: so, Geoffrey’s anger over Jerome’s death is the main source of conflict between him and Ian, and it puts the plot of book 2 in motion. Now, we never actually saw Geoffrey and Jerome talk to each other in book 1 (because at the time of its drafting the author had not yet planned on writing a sequel for it) so all the available details about their relationship (mind you, there aren’t that many) have to be gleaned from Geoffrey’s recollections present in book 2 and pieced back together in order to get a clearer picture. Another fact that should be noted is that we also never saw Jerome talk about Geoffrey (again, because Geoffrey wasn’t really that relevant to the plot of book 1): Geoffrey’s words are the only source available when it comes to trying to reconstruct what their interactions might have been like, which means that our perspective on their friendship is going to be inevitably, extremely one-sided.

So here we go, book 2, chapter 5: Geoffrey has decided to abduct Ian and Daniel and drag them to his home in England to get some answers and avenge Jerome’s death and he currently has Ian at his mercy, so he immediately starts asking questions. He asks why he currently is not home, he asks why his brother has no knowledge of his whereabouts, he asks if his name really is Jean Marc de Ponthieu, and these are all very dangerous questions: they pose a real threat to Ian’s credibility. But then, when Geoffrey asks why Jerome was so certain he was an imposter, Ian breathes in relief, because that means Geoffrey knows nothing about the ambush in Couronne.

But. Wait a second.

How could Geoffrey possibly not know about Couronne? That’s how Derangale KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that Ian and Jean de Ponthieu were never the same person! Dude was busy forging incriminating letters left and right with Ponthieu’s help??? He was the one who helped Ponthieu and Renaud De Dammartin set Isabeau up to be assaulted by Claude de Dammartin??? Geoffrey explicitly says Jerome was obsessed with Ian, so Derangale must have talked his ear OFF with all his incessant rambling about him being an imposter…and Geoffrey did not bother asking him about the details of this weird doppelganger theory of his ONCE? We know how sharp and observant Geoffrey is. We know he is perceptive, and straightforward in voicing his opinions, and not easy to fool. We know he is the type of guy who likes to ask direct questions and get believable, clear answers in return, so he MUST have asked Jerome why he was so sure about the illegitimacy of Ian’s identity. How did Jerome answer? Did he make up a lie on the spot? Geoffrey is equipped with a very functional built-in anti-nonsense super-sensor (the one that allowed him to immediately spot all the places in which Ian’s deception and intentional gaslighting were coming off at their seams even after Ian had managed to convince Geoffrey’s own father that he was Jean de Ponthieu’s second-born son), so if that was the case – if Jerome had indeed tried to make up some story about why he knew who the real Jean de Ponthieu was – Geoffrey (in theory) would have easily been able to tell that he was being lied to.

Do we then have to assume Jerome simply replied with “I just know”? Well…the text implies that this is the most plausible option: as Ian and Geoffrey’s heated conversation goes on, we realize that the only reason Geoffrey believes Ian to be an imposter is…because Jerome said so. And this, in my opinion, says a lot about both Geoffrey’s relationship with Derangale and his current emotional state. Let’s really think about what this little kidnapping stunt of his must look like from an outside perspective: Geoffrey just decided to abduct a man whose identity has been publicly confirmed by Guillaume de Ponthieu, one of the most powerful men on French soil, who also happens to be a relative of king Philippe Auguste (which means Ian has ties to the royal family as well lol???), who ALSO confirmed that Ian is the youngest Ponthieu brother and PERSONALLY BESTOWED the title of Faucon du Roi upon him. Geoffrey does not (currently) have a shred of proof against Ian: he just chose to believe that Ian is some random foreigner who has been allowed to pretend to be a nobleman and marry Isabeau de Montmayeur by the count of Ponthieu and the king of France because that’s what Jerome believed. Jerome stood alone in front of the entire French court, subjecting himself to ridicule, to denounce Ian as an imposter and Guillaume as a liar (and readers know he is 100% right, but look at this from the perspective of one of the characters who are not involved in this intrigue), which are such far-fetched, absurd, ludicrous accusations, even the closest of Jerome’s friends would have demanded at least some evidence in order to give his version of the story some credit. And yet Geoffrey, who has not been given even one crumb of information on the real Jean de Ponthieu’s actual political alignment, simply decided to stand with him against the rest of the world.

And then, Ian starts answering Geoffrey’s questions by telling him all the vile things Jerome did to him, his family and his friends (while still carefully avoiding the Couronne topic): he tells him of his sadism, villany and criminal actions, and Geoffrey does not believe a single word of what he’s saying. He straight up calls all these accusations lies, and he urges Ian to stop insulting a knight of England his peer and a man of honour deserving of respect. Geoffrey refuses to listen to any negative remark Ian has to make and threatens him with violence when he insists on calling Jerome an unworthy man. “Jerome wasn’t a liar”, he says; “he was my friend, and you killed him”. This is exactly what I meant when I said their friendship strikes me as extremely weird: I mean come on, really? Derangale was a textbook piece of shit. He was violent, vengeful, and arrogant, and yet Geoffrey describes him as a “man of honour”??? It almost seems as if he and Ian are not even talking about the same person??? The sadistic felon Ian met in Cairs is nothing like the friend Geoffrey has such a high opinion of. Which can only mean one thing, namely that when he was with Geoffrey, Jerome was on his best behaviour. And in order to have adapted his behaviour to fit Geoffrey’s expectations of a good and honourable friend, Derangale must have had a very clear picture of the kind of person his “friend” was. Jerome knew Geoffrey would never have allowed all that malicious shit to happen under his watch, so he decided to keep all his plotting a secret from him. Geoffrey never was Jerome’s accomplice in aiding Renaud de Dammartin, Ferrand de Flandre and Jean de Ponthieu steal the Montmayeur fief for king John, and therefore has no reason to believe Ian’s words.

There are two things about this situation that strike me as particularly weird. First of all: Derangale wasn’t just witholding information from Geoffrey, he was also hiding his true nature from him. And Geoffrey…never noticed? Geoffrey, who can usually smell bullshit and deception from a mile away, who has no difficulty in telling a man of honour from a felon, who normally would not bother wasting his time being friends with such an insufferable prick, never managed to guess the true nature of Jerome’s character? Huh??? And secondly: why exactly did Derangale ask for help from a guy he was so sure he would never have been able to turn into one of his accomplices he had to actively keep parts of himself and his plans hidden for months up to the battle in Bouvines? What we know, thanks to Harald Martewall, is that Jerome was the first to reach out to Geoffrey back in book 1: apparently, the two of them used to be friends as young boys, then stopped seeing each other for a couple of years until Derangale decided to pick up the phone and give him a call. Geoffrey was in England, minding his own business, when Jerome contacted him to ask if he was willing to join him in Béarne. He, as sir Harald recalls, “was busy raising a cavalry troop for Ferrand De Flandre, and wanted my last-born as champion in a tournament”. It is not difficult to guess why Derangale asked specifically for Geoffrey to join his faction. Martewall is, simply put, the baddest bitch in the area: he is easily the scariest and most skilled warrior out of all the knights we get to meet in the saga, and an experienced tournament champion is precisely what Jerome needs for the little show he has in plan for Béarne. What I really want to know here is: couldn’t Derangale have called for literally any other English knight to help him win? Why did he risk enrolling a guy he knew would never have approved of his schemes and totally could have kicked his ass if he ever found out about his misconduct? Couldn’t he have called for a couple more champions who would have been overjoyed at the opportunity of beating the shit out of all those French knights? Why did it have to be just him and Geoffrey against the ENTIRETY of Philippe Auguste’s lineup? Why was he so confident in his ability to manipulate Geoffrey? Oh AND. This is an information that is nowhere to be found in the actual books but it is something I asked the author to confirm because I was just too curious: Geoffrey…did not have fun in Béarne, like at all. He did not care for the show Jerome wanted to put on, he did not enjoy participating in that display of strength and superiority, and he was grumpier than usual during the whole ordeal. So our man Jerome basically decided to rely exclusively on Geoffrey’s excellence and made him travel all the way to Béarne instead of putting together a slightly larger faction of fellows who could have maybe shared his immoral cause (like hello?????? it’s literally JUST the two of them against ALL the French nobles competing at the tournament lmfao??? I mean ok girl!!! give us drama! give us spectacle!) despite knowing that 1) he would have had to completely alter his behaviour around him 2) he could never have explained to him why he knew with absolute certainty Ian was an imposter and 3) Geoffrey would have intensely disliked being at the centre of theatrics. Like…I get that Geoffrey is your most skilled friend when it comes to the art of jousting, but… his presence is also a bit too inconvenient in this context? I mean really? You didn’t know any other knights in the area who could have been available as champions? You had to call for Geoffrey? Specifically for him? Haha girl ok! (oh and you also saved some of the custom higher quality blades you had made for your squadron to arm Geoffrey? Ok! Oh and you decided to pick Geoffrey as the other leader of your special squadron? Girl Ok!!! The guy would leave your ass in less than a second if he ever found out about your awful crimes so keeping him at your side is quite the risky move, but you do you I guess).

And another thing is, not only did Geoffrey hate every second of that charade, he (and this is also information that I got directly from the author) was downright shocked at Derangale’s unprompted act of violence against the young count of Grandpré… that was something that caught him completely off guard and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. It makes total sense for Geoffrey to feel this way, that’s very in character for him. What actually, really surprises me is Geoffrey’s reaction at hearing Ian mention this particular incident. You were there, says Ian, you saw Derangale attempt to kill a friend of mine with your own two eyes, and yet you insist on threatening me for calling him a criminal and an assassin. And that’s what finally prompts Geoffrey to lay hands on him. He silences him with a slap so violent it almost makes him fall on the ground. Geoffrey reacted with anger and disbelief when Ian was describing him heinous crimes that he never witnessed and did not believe to be true, but only resorted to physical violence when Ian forced him to acknowledge and condemn an action he actually saw Jerome commit. This brief scene alone is enough for me to confidently conclude that Geoffrey is, there are no other words fit to describe his current emotional state, deep in DENIAL. He hears an uncomfortable truth he has no way of denying, he lets that send him into a violent rage, he acts that violence out and then he ends the whole conversation there. He just. Leaves. And he repeats the same exact pattern of behaviour a second time! Book 2, chapter 12: Martewall starts to interrogate Daniel, who tells him about Derangale’s first attempt at kidnapping Isabeau AND manages to have one of his own men confirm his story. Then Geoffrey becomes visibly agitated, to the point he inadvertently breaks the rod he brought to beat information out of his prisoner in fucking two, CHANGES THE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION ON PURPOSE, and then when Daniel insists on bringing the conversation back to Derangale’s crimes he draws his sword, points it at him in another fit of anger and then! He LEAVES!! AGAIN!!! Bro???????????? You keep saying you “want the truth” and yet when you finally get it you cut the conversation off because you don’t like what you’re hearing? Hello???

“You insist on defending him only because you do not want to admit you have been lied to and manipulated by him”, this is what Daniel says to Martewall’s face, and the most articulate rebuttal he is able to come up with on the spot is “that is not true”. He absolutely did not expect to be confronted with such merciless answers, and he has no idea how to cope with Ian and Daniel ripping into the image of the good and honourable Jerome that only exists in his mind, so he just rejects anything negative they have to say and breaks things like a moody teenager.

His behaviour is extremely erratic. For the entirety of the first half of book 2, Geoffrey is clearly not his usual self. His own father tells him he does not recognize him anymore. And when Sir Harald confronts him and makes an attempt at urging him to release Daniel, Geoffrey reacts with something I would almost describe as a…temper tantrum? Sir Harald’s request for an explanation from his son is more than legit: after all, he just learned from Daniel that Geoffrey decided to kidnap a renowned nobleman on a whim, without any evidence of his supposed crimes, WITHIN THE BORDERS OF HIS FIEF IN FRENCH LANDS. That could get them in SERIOUS trouble with both his brother Guillaume de Ponthieu and Philippe Auguste himself, as Salisbury will later remark on. I mean, this action is not only dishonourable, as Sir Harald will be very quick to point out, but also extremely stupid. And Geoffrey is not stupid. Like, at all. He knows when to shut up, his rage is usually under check, he is not prone to acting out in anger or taking rash decisions. But here, Geoffrey is letting his emotions run rampant. His father is being perfectly reasonable, and he replies quite disrespectfully by stating that he is not a young boy anymore and that he will not allow for any reproach o interference on his part.

It should be noted that Geoffrey’s troubled state of mind is not solely the result of Jerome’s death. In fact, in chapter 12, Geoffrey makes it clear why he is so angry and frustrated. He lays out all of his reasons to his father:

“I’ve always done my duty and I lost my honour because of those to whom I owed my loyalty. I fought loyally until the very end, I paid my defeat with imprisonment, only to discover at my release that my name is associated to those of a friend deemed a felon and a king judged a coward; I return to my homeland and I end up on a list of traitors because of you! I am forced to be subject to the last two accusations, but the first…that one I intend to acquit myself from with any means necessary. At this point, I have already lost my dignity as a knight and you are the last person who can reproach me for it, since you are the one who dealt me the final blow”.

Geoffrey’s words reveal that he is also doing all of this for himself. He is now more desperate than ever to prove Jerome was always in the right, since this seems to be the only means of coping with the loss of his precious honour. The thought of having been friends with a felon of this magnitude is something Geoffrey could never, ever tolerate, because what would this say about him as a person? This explains the state of denial he currently is in: he has done something he would normally see as despicable by kidnapping Ian in his own lands, but he could excuse acting like a vulgar bandit if only he managed to force a confession out of Ian and avenge Jerome’s death (have I already mentioned Geoffrey has NO business being mad about Jerome meeting his demise at Ian’s hands? Dude was killed in fair combat. On a battlefield. Ian did not assassinate him or anything of that sort, there simply are NO good reasons as for why Geoffrey could ever want to “avenge” his friend’s death?? like there’s literally nothing to avenge here??? Lol???). And although Geoffrey is indeed defending Jerome’s honour because he feels that his crimes, if proven true, could reflect badly on himself, Geoffrey’s words still betray real attachment and a genuine feeling of affection for Jerome. Ian himself will later recognize their bond as valid by directly comparing it to the sentiment of friendship he shares with Daniel. At the time of Ian’s abduction, Geoffrey did not yet know that he would eventually be forced to fight yet another war once he’d finally reach his home: at that point in the story, Geoffrey’s motives for taking Ian and Daniel as prisoners had little to do with him wanting to gain back the honour he now feels his father tore from him by ordering him to side with him against their king. The primary motivation for his disreputable conduct in chapters 4 to 10 was, in my opinion, grief.

Another thing that I find extremely interesting and that in a way contradicts what I mentioned above about Geoffrey not being able to tolerate the thought of having been friends with a criminal, is that once he starts to come to terms with the proof of Jerome’s misconduct…he never disavows their friendship. What he says once he finally accepts Ian as his friend and lets go of Jerome’s obsession is: “I did everything in my power to honour our friendship, going even beyond common sense”. He never tries to claim they were never really friends or proclaim he wants to cut all ties with such a man. And towards the end of book 3, when Geoffrey and Ian are discussing what Ian’s exile really implicates and Ian is finally forced to admit he never was Jean de Ponthieu, Geoffrey all of a sudden brings Derangale into their conversation to reflect on how Jerome was right all along and how happy he is to learn that he at least did not lie to him about this one specific thing. Well, maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I was expecting him to focus on the sheer amount of lies he had been fed by…you know, Ian, the friend who happens to be alive and whom he is currently confronting. He does not even seem interested in asking Ian to explain himself, it is Ian who apologises to him, completely unprompted. They were having a conversation about Philippe Auguste and Guillaume de Ponthieu wielding the power to destroy his life, and after several beats of silence and intense consideration, what Geoffrey decided to say out loud was “I’m happy Jerome didn’t lie to me about you”? Ummmmmmm ok??????????? Lying to him certainly was not the worst thing Jerome has ever done? What about the many crimes he committed against Ian, his friends and his family? What I’m trying to say here is that Daniel’s argument about Geoffrey having been manipulated by Jerome must have cut deep, since here he is, bringing this up again. Derangale died more than two years ago, and Geoffrey already gave up on trying to redeem his honour and reputation, but he appears to be still in the middle of the process of learning to truly let him go. Dealing with the idea of having been deceived in such a cold way by a close friend to whom he though he owed unwavering loyalty is proving to be challenging. I might be delusional but I can only make sense of the fact Geoffrey brought Jerome into their conversation about Ian only to briefly touch on a strictly personal matter that concerned his own feelings and his private relationship with Ian’s old archenemy if I assume Geoffrey was, at this point in time, still dealing with some very intense and complicated feelings (….furthermore…………it doesn’t…really…make sense…for Geoffrey to be happy about Jerome telling him that Ian’s identity was a hoax…since the whole point of telling him that…was getting his help in destroying Ian and not really “being honest” with him…like…Geoffrey, love, why are you so desperately hanging on to these miniscule scraps of “““honest and genuine interactions”””, why do you still treasure this literal MICROSCOPIC CRUMB of “““sincerity””” on Jerome’s part…hello…………………???). Sorry but this whole Jerome/Geoffrey mess just exudes one-sided, unfulfilled and unacknowledged tenderness in copious amounts once you really start to read into it. My personal interpretation of the situation is that Geoffrey is having such a hard time trying to make sense of the extent of Derangale’s manipulation and condemning him as someone who was always undeserving of his friendship and devotion because he completely lacks the tools to properly analyse and interpret his own feelings on the matter.

2.2 Geoffrey and Ian vs Geoffrey and Jerome

I’m touching briefly on Ian and Geoffrey’s friendship dynamics in book 3 mainly because I think that their relationship will provide me with some good clues and parallels that could be of help in determining what Geoffrey was like when he was in Jerome’s company, since the third instalment in the series gives us such a wonderful and complete picture of the kind of friend Geoffrey is. Remember how Geoffrey immediately sided with Ian against Gant without asking for evidence against him and came to Ian’s rescue twice despite having very important businesses to attend to? Geoffrey has repeatedly shown that he has a tendency to be aggressively protective of his closest friends, to the point he has no problem resorting to extreme violence to ensure their safety (Ian, bleeding on the floor, gripping Geoffrey’s arm: “please tell me you took at least one of my assailants alive I’m going to need a witness???????” Geoffrey: “…” Ian: “…” The pile of corpses right behind them: “…” Geoffrey: “…sorry lol I kinda dealt with them in a bit of a heavy handed way” Ian: whimpers and collapses in his arms). Geoffrey’s attitude in regards to Ian’s enemies perfectly explains why he never had any qualms siding with Jerome against Ian despite the fact Derangale wasn’t telling him shit about the supposed evidence behind his outlandish claims. This is actually part of his regular pattern of behaviour: Geoffrey has consistently shown a thorough commitment towards undying trust and unconditional support through direct action. He might seem cold and aloof since he is never seen behave in an overtly friendly or approachable way when he is out in public (he also does not smile ONCE throughout the whole trilogy), but this right here is, in my opinion, a very affectionate man who is capable of forming true and intimate bonds with a handful of hand-picked men whose company he deeply treasures. Let’s talk about how Geoffrey U-turned at the speed of light to go back and help Ian corner Gant even though he was in the middle of carrying out an extremely important mission for Blanche of Castile. Let’s talk about how Derangale did not even have the time to fall to the ground after Ian delivered him the finishing blow, because Geoffrey literally teleported behind him to catch him, hoist him on his horse and take him to safety (let’s also talk about how Ian later found Derangale’s corpse among those of all the abandoned fallen soldiers the imperial army was not able to retrieve, and saw that his dead body had been laid on a shield with care, which means Geoffrey probably was the one responsible for preserving his dignity in death since we know for a fact he was there to hear Derangale’s last words and witness him die – I am literally about to start screaming please send help :)))))))). Do not let his grumpiness and harsh words fool you, Geoffrey is the most dedicated best friend another knight could ever ask for.

HOWEVER, the main difference between the two relationships I am comparing is that Geoffrey’s support of Ian is always unconditional, but never irrational in the same way his pursuit of revenge on Jerome’s behalf was, and at no point in the story does Geoffrey fail in evaluating Ian’s character or intentions. Furthermore, Ian’s gaslighting game was ON POINT in book 2, he was warping reality around Geoffrey like a damn magician, but Geoffrey never fully bought into his carefully crafted lies. And yet I am expected to believe that Derangale was such a skilled master manipulator he was able to conceal his true nature and agenda from Geoffrey for months? Hello??? PLEASE! Make it make sense!!! The ease with which Derangale was able to withold crucial information from him is extremely suspicious. Really? You mean to tell me Jerome Derangale had one of the least gullible people in the saga wrapped around his finger for years and never once slipped and misbehaved in front of him? Sorry I know at this point I must sound extremely redundant but Geoffrey’s selective blindness towards anything that concerns Derangale really is the weirdest thing ever, like, uh oh! Are you sure you didn’t catch any overly soft feelings for your bestie? So…I’m gonna say it: my theory on why Geoffrey’s behaviour was all over the place in the first chapters of book 2 is that he has always been completely unaware of the true nature and extent of his emotional attachment to Derangale, and this cluelessness of his contributed to worsening his already frustrated state. Furthermore, I also think Derangale must have noticed something was going on with Geoffrey and decided to use it to his advantage. Dude was a bit too confident, suspiciously confident in his ability to keep Geoffrey at his side without having to disclose any kind of compromising information.

In conclusion:

What I’m trying to say here is that I’m pretty convinced Geoffrey Martewall is not one of the straights. To sum all of this up, he:

-drinks astronomical amounts of his own extra strong brew of respect women juice on a daily basis

-has a tendency to get very attached to a few selected male friends who he then proceeds to protect with everything he has

-never noticed his old friend (👀) was lying to him, acted in a very out of character and erratic way for a while after his old friend’s (👀👀) death and was ready to commit actual crimes in an attempt to honour his old friend’s (👀👀👀) memory.

So. Yeah. The bi vibes are there. I would rather die than give up my Clueless Bisexual King Geoffrey Martewall headcanons! Sorry but a straight Geoffrey would make zero sense to me. Your honour can’t you see!!! this guy is WAY too cool not to be bi!!!

I rest my case.

P.S. I cannot BELIEVE I’m actually posting this monster on the day of the anniversary of the battle of Bouvines??? I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, at first I was really annoyed at the fact that putting this together was taking me weeks but then yesterday while I was editing I realized I would eventually be able to publish this on the very day Derangale died and Geoffrey was taken prisoner :’’) Perfect timing am I right?

#I love....Geoffrey Martewall...so fucking much i literallyhschbcbg !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#He!!!!!!! HNGGGGG #also this is probably full of mistakes and typos and whatnot but i don't care at this point i just want to get my point across #and my point is that Geoffrey has to be bi and i am . right #haha ooops my Jerome/Geoffrey agenda is finally out in the open for everyone to see haha ooooooopppppp #anyway i've never posted anything this long before #Geoffrey was worth every single word I spent talking abt him tho #hyperversum #I'm tired I'm going to bed now byeeeeee #Geoffrey Martewall #Jerome Derangale #Ian Maayrkas

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