#although it occurs to me when women do it it usually falls into them being Weirdos who dont like when men like pink or whatever

[dianalolihikki]

Hey!💜

Today, unfortunately, I didn't have my hair in two ponytails. Instead, I had it tied in two braids (even now I have my hair tied like this as I type this post). Braids are my second favorite hairstyle, so I didn't lose anything.

💮💮💮💮

On the way to physical therapy, B and I discussed the E's negative behavior, and we often do that. I also have to admit that sometimes E and I talk about B's traits I don't like.

I guess such a thing shows hypocrisy on my side. However, I'm not sure I feel guilty, although I probably should.

I can't recognize my emotional states until they are extreme, but of course that doesn't excuse me.

💮💮💮💮

As planned, E and I went for a walk where there are lots of stairs. There were actually a lot of them. When we climbed these stairs our eyes showed a park,behind the park is a church. All this is on a mountainous area. Of course, we weren't there for the first time.

We practiced seemingly very simple things. For a brain-damaged person, however, it is not always a piece of cake.

I sat on a bench with no backrest and E walked further and further away from me. I had to overcome my fear of falling.

Then I overcame my fear of falling in walking. True, I walk on three-legged crutches, but I still panic when someone doesn't walk beside me.

Today I walked ten steps away from E on the grass. Then I increased the number of steps.

Despite the fact that I only walked like this for upwards of fifteen minutes,my legs ached a lot, probably more from stress than physical fatigue.

E said that I was very brave and as a reward took me to McDonald's for ice cream. They were delicious as usual.🍦

💮💮💮💮

Let me return to the topic of the park for a moment. Despite the early hour, I saw many teenagers there. When I see them, it brutally occurs to me that I'm not one of them and haven't been for a long time. Oddly enough, I never envied them being healthy. I just feel very sad that I'm not one of them,or at least that's how I feel.

It is very unfair that I am no longer fourteen!!!! Why? Am I mentally ill? Or is it some strange form of mid-life crisis?

One of these girls in particular was beautiful. Exactly what I imagined the main character of my novel to be.

I like to admire the beauty of girls aesthetically.

Besides, young people always seem beautiful to me.

💮💮💮💮

Despite what I had decided, I told E about the fact that I would have additional physiotherapy from the State project. I told her this while we were eating ice cream in her car.

Her reaction positively surprised me because she was happy.

The physiotherapist from the State project texted my mother today. Let's call him K

K texted that tomorrow he is going to my

GP to get the necessary paperwork, and he will also be in touch with my mom about the schedule.

On the one hand I want him to be my physiotherapist,and on the other hand there is some opposition in me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm looking for another physiotherapist to befriend, to fill the void left by J.

💮💮💮💮

My neighbors who came to see me yesterday visited me again today. Again they brought me gifts. This time, in addition to field flowers, they gave me a seashell, a necklace, a bracelet, two small chocolates and a bookmark. They sat with me for a good hour, then later came again.

I seem to have had a nice chat with them, but overall I feel very uncomfortable with this relationship.

What should I talk to them about?

What about the parents of these girls?

What if these parents think I'm some kind of pervert? After all, even women can be them.

Unfortunately, these children do not want to give me peace. They want to accompany me tomorrow on a walk with B

You can call me: Diana - professional babysitter.

I agree with them in one thing: we all think that the neighbor's dog that I am afraid of is aggressive and its owners do not give a damn.

According to one of these girls, this dog attacked my dog today. As far as I could see, my dog was not injured.

💮💮💮💮

That's it for today.

I'm sleeping with the window open again. Outside, the frogs are giving their concert.

Again, I will show you today the J-pop group invented by me!⭐

#cerebral palsy #neurodivergent #neurodiverse stuff #physically disabled #hikikomori #teacher attachment #actually neurodivergent #older men crush #diary

[fightleo9]

Control of Your Aquarium!

Survive or thrive I think that too a lot of people start their aquariums with all the goal of its occupants surviving. I would certainly like to suggest that this interest is now far past this simple aim. Due to be able to the lack associated with information and technology aquariums once got a reputation as being hard to keep. I have done some study into the attitude of the men and women that have the aquariums that thrive as an are at odds of to those who have aquariums that merely make it through. I have found that that is more then the choice it to see the aquarium with a brand new set involving understandings. When I say booming I mean gorgeous clean tanks which might be easy to maintain packed with fish of which are happily growing and breeding plus plants or coral that are developing and propagating. The first thing I want you to understand is that will your aquarium is perfect and it is usually exactly what it should be. So many people blame their particular aquarium for their problems e. gary the gadget guy. I would love our tank if this didn't have therefore much algae or perhaps I would love it in the event the seafood didn't keep passing away, like it will be the tanks fault. Buy Womens Jewellery Online know what, its not the tanks fault, it is your fault in support of your fault. These folks seek advice on tips on how to fix these types of problem and may well take a step in the particular direction from it staying fixed but only don't get there e. g. they find out that their algae issue is caused by enhanced phosphate levels, therefore they do a water change, minimize down as well as perhaps add a phosphate sponge and question the very up coming week why the problem is not solved. Many individuals fall short of developing a solution even though they would take a step in the best path. I need that you understand that much of what you do right now will not turn up tomorrow, even in the near future, more likely subsequent month. Making use of the dirt as an instance, lets say that you find out that this algae is usually brought on by phosphate so you do every thing you require to do towards your phosphate down in order to zero but nonetheless the algae lifestyles on. Well you know what, the algae does not what to die, it can cling in order to life until it is virtually starved of the situations it needs to reside e. g. present phosphate. This will not occur over evening, but with moment it will transpire. The favorable news it that once this is gone it is gone but it will surely take an although until it comes back, once those authentic conditions are found again and at least this time around an individual will easily have got the power to repair it again. Another area that folks complain about is that 1 person says a very important factor and some a single else says some thing else, just how can they ever know what is right if experts aren't even agree, so why should I trouble. Let me talk about something with you, so guess exactly what, everything you learn about your aquariums plus everything that any person knows about their aquarium has all been made up. Understand that there is definitely no truth thus stop looking for this. People will talk about their experience of just what to do and how things occur but that is almost all it is, their very own experience and this kind of is true if you are talking to a marine scientist, a professional aquarist or your neighbour. Understand that there happen to be many methods for undertaking things and nothing are the appropriate way, they are usually all constructed, possibly by them or the person that told it to be able to them. Just do just what make since to be able to you and a person will soon observe exactly how your current aquarium reacts, which often maybe different in order to how your neighborhood friends aquarium reacts. An example of getting information on some sort of solution from one man or woman to the up coming is lets say Excellent 10lt bucket of water and I want to get typically the water from a single 10lt bucket to be able to the next, and so i ask one individual plus they say siphon it, someone different say no, no, no, you have to scoop it, until somebody else sees an individual scoop it and even says hey just pour it, this specific all makes sense unless you see someone happily splashing that in. The level that I feel trying to make is the fact that if a person know what an individual are seeking to carry out e. g. get water from pail to the up coming it does not matter how an individual do it, once you learn what you are usually trying to do. When learning regarding your aquarium the aim is very in order to learn what happen to be you trying in order to do. Many folks argue and concentrate on how to do that. Knowing what you are trying to would you will not necessarily be confused concerning how to do it, you will think freedom in deciding on how you make a decision to do it. Every person has an opinion within the right and wrong ways associated with doing things although having an fish tank is about you giving it a try and mastering what works regarding your system. Find out to accept the tank just typically the way it is usually and just how it isn't. The particular aquarium does precisely what the aquarium will and that is just what it is supposed to do. When you know this, it may provide you with new power to enjoy the tank e. grams. one fish will not get along with one more, so observe and luxuriate in this natural interaction until you believe the life regarding the weaker seafood is in risk then remove one of the species of fish to another aquarium tank, but don't latest the fish while if that wasn't supposed to take place because exactly just what happened is precisely what is meant to happen, you are usually intended to watch and even enjoy every connection in your aquarium tank not just the particular nice ones. Do you think that some fish no longer get along throughout the wild? Of cause they no longer. You will not ever control your own aquarium, but a person will have control over it. To several times people have got come to myself and said that will over the last year a single fish has murdered off all the other fish within the tank. Remembering that you do have control above your tank but at this time it might be a very good idea to probably move this species of fish to another tank once it features killed the other seafood and saved all the other fish. Your observations in addition to actions are the key to a new thriving tank. Never forget that you bought your aquarium to be able to watch it, so watch it. Watch what happens delight in what happens, be alert to what happens and occurs control over it. I would really like to suggest of which most problems that will occur in the aquarium could be avoided by studying the principles of exactly how to keep a good aquarium and employing your control over what you notice happening. You have some control above your aquarium but you will in no way control it entirely, so except this specific and revel in it. It is your task to create the possibility of your aquarium thriving. Should your aquarium tank is not the method that you want it, create the chance that it can be great and offer it time to show you results. The particular way to make a new possibility together with your aquarium is to be able to start doing anything new, which will let something new to exhibit up, remembering that whenever you make the change today a person can often anticipate to see the transformation be present next calendar month, thriving aquariums are often the effect of patience. Most chemical or organic changes to the aquarium take about 3 weeks to be able to really really make a difference. Envision, visualise and program your perfect fish tank before you start, in case you fail in order to plan you could approach to fail. So many people walk into the aquarium shop since they would really like some sort of new fish, without having any idea of what kind of fish that they are looking for. These people will ask employees on duty just how these fish can go with all the several fish they are able to name in their reservoir. As you can easily imagine sometimes this works and other times it won't. Creating a plan for your own tank including a wish list is a very good idea. This way you may show the wish list to many aquarists before starting buying your seafood and start mastering the hard way which fish don't frequently come together. Imagining, visualising and planning the tank is the particular best way to be able to make certain that your tank ends up with the particular best result. Having responsibility for just what it will be will make sure you don't possess to focus on just what it is, exactly what it is, is a product of everything you did in the particular past. Learn that will there is zero one else to be able to blame but a person for why your aquarium is certainly not thriving and I avoid mean just making it through. Never blame the people that give you advice, that they are only seeking to help and next time they may possibly help. An aquarium has many factors that must be taken into consideration when giving even simple advice, you only are able to recognize the happenings regarding your tank, consequently don't get angry with the guy in the aquarium retail outlet that has attempted to help you in a five second conversation, when precisely what he has explained didn't work away. Learn your aquarium tank yourself and remember that which ever happens to it on this time was supposed to occur and each episode will carry instructions to aid your increase as an experienced species of fish keeper, remember that good experience is definitely often born out of bad experiences. By no means give in plus keep seeking typically the best advice. Preserving an aquarium can be a game, play the overall game. You need a new vision with outcomes to make that worth playing the particular game. No matter what takes place don't forget of which it's game in addition to one when an individual loose the overall game you didn't play this well enough and you can always play again and earn next time. If playing a game you often need a good trainer so it can easily be crucial to search for out and generate a relationship along with a good fish tank adviser that may help you win this game regarding keeping a thriving aquarium. Ask about since you will locate this person plus your relationship with all of them will bloom since they reach bring about to and share inside the adventures regarding your thriving aquarium tank. If you happen to be not aquarium pro it is mainly because important to have got an aquarium trainer as it is usually to have a mechanic with regard to your car. Target to have some sort of perfect tank, no longer make an effort to just observe how it should go. You need to be able to have a vision that truly encourages you in order to have a new tank the definitely thrives. Don't purpose to have got a reservoir that survives, goal to have a tank that gows best. Just how your container is today is usually the way this always will probably be, except if you change this now because tomorrow never comes. Thus many times I here people say that they will enhance their aquarium whenever this so when of which. When is today, now or never ever, your fish should have nothing but the particular best so why would you give all of them any less, simply because you might be as well busy or laid back, when you tenderize what really will need to be done in order to have a booming it never will take provided that it seem, anticipation and handlungsaufschub is a huge killer associated with this beautiful interest. People pretend to be able to be good and they look after their own tank. Understand that you are in no way doing the best a person can trying to perform at least one particular thing better. This kind of simple understanding can easily allow constant develop in you plus your hobby. How good your aquarium goes is ruled by your vision, equipment and expertise. Enrol, people typically the universe and your self in how wonderful your aquarium is definitely and what it brings to an individual. Create the probability of what a person want it to be able to be and may focus on the things that you avoid want or an individual will attract those to you. Sharing the joy your aquarium creatures to you is the best method to bring your pleasure alive and to allow you to really think and get touching what your aquarium really means in order to you. To possess an excellent tank you will need to become unreasonable, many reason will stop through having the reservoir that you desire. A affordable tank is surely an average tank, do not ended by reasons. A person will always create the most incredible results while you are uncommon. Enjoy your pastime and learn to your internal chatterbox or the voice of reason in your head. Learn that this tone in your head it certainly not you, this is a small voice that can carry you back throughout every thing a person do, including to get aquarium of your own dreams. Listening in order to this will limit you and pressure you out. In the event that the voice tells you that tank is too big or I are to tire in order to clean the filtration system now, listen to be able to the voice but choose what an individual know you must carry out, don't listen to that voice because anything it says will be reasonable and you want a better container then a fair tank. Get throughout tune with how the success of your aquarium effects a person life, for numerous how their fish tank is certainly going effects there whole out appear on life. Train you to enjoy and do your regular maintenance and do not assume it, because the anticipations is always worse than actually doing it. So many individuals will literally become scare of their fish tank because they understand that their filter is finished due for a clean and they tell him or her self that they avoid have the time to clean it, in the interim they will have spent more hours stressing about washing it then they will would spend in the event that they actually just cleaned it. Enjoying your maintenance is actually a major key throughout having an aquarium that thrives. In the event that you know you cannot want to put in the time then obtain someone in in order to service it intended for you. This may possibly run you money although will help you save money in the lengthy run not having to replace fish and will keep enjoying your leisure activity, which is why you got the particular tank in the particular first place. Possessing a poorly maintained fish tank with fish perishing will make an individual hate this interest that you wanted to be able to love.

#womens clothes online

[timeisacephalopod]

Weird Red Flag I’m aware of because my mom uses a lot of cutesy terms she thinks are fun: if a guy tries to police the way you talk run for the fucking hills. Every guy I’ve ever known to try and police my mom’s way of speaking has always been an abuser. Usually in more ways than one.

#winters ramblings #seriously its a thing literally EVERY single guy that my sisters have brought home that's done this #were ALL abusers. literally every SINGLE one #if anyone tries that bullshit on me i hope the door knob goes up their ass on the way out #because i know what the fuck that means and I'll say shishi lalas if i fucking want to #although it occurs to me when women do it it usually falls into them being Weirdos who dont like when men like pink or whatever #they're usually those gross ass women who Really Believe in gender stereotypes andwill assume a man is gay at the drop of a hat #you know he likes pastries so clearly he likes men that definitely correlates #in which case if a woman does THAT shit throw her in the trash too god those types of women are the fucking worst #throw anyone in the trash who tries to get you to talk a certain way when the shit you said was harmless #like fuck you roger ill say birdicide if i god damn feel like it

[soupandsimple]

Fell For Him (with Sirius Black)

[ having only a physical relationship with Sirius and things changing once he’s declared free ]

* fluff? / suggestive themes!! / spicy ending 🔥

………

It was the oldest story in the book, you were a pretty, young girl who fell for an older, attractive charmer; his name was Sirius Black. Only it didn’t start out as a love story and it still wasn’t, it was purely physical since the start but unfortunately for you, or as the story itself goes, you caught feelings.

You had joined the Order after your friend Tonks suggested you should. Little did you know you’d be meeting the ‘love of your life.’

Although you considered Sirius as such, you would never tell him. He was a total sweetheart to you but you had a feeling he saw you as nothing more than the young thing he took to bed often. That would have to be enough for you and it was all good and well until…he was declared a free man.

After some celebratory sex the night of his release, things changed. The next night at a meeting he hardly even looked at you. Granted, your ‘relationship’ was a secret but nonetheless, he’d always try to find ways to subtly, be near you or touch you even but that day…nothing. You figured it was just because after the wild night you both had last night he just didn’t have the energy, it was a shit explanation but still the thought you had to tell yourself too when he told you to head home that night instead of staying with him.

All of that would have made sense if it had only occurred that one day but this continued and you soon realized why.

Upon Sirius’s declaration of freedom to the public, phone calls and letters from past and new hopeful lovers poured in; something Sirius just couldn’t stop bragging about.

“Rem, guess how many letters this old dog got today” he’d ask Remus at the recent meetings and “You wouldn’t believe what this women said she wanted me to do to her over the phone” or something in that similarity.

At this point, you weren’t even talking to Sirius anymore other than the usual and now very formal hello’s and goodbye’s. It had only been five days and you already missed his touch tremendously. Not only that, but the jealousy inside you at his mention of all these women was killing you but there was nothing you could do about it, after all you were never anything official in the first place. What you were feeling now was entirely your fault for falling for him.

Today, the sixth day since his release, there was to be another short meeting. You had arrived a little early so you sat with Remus in the dining room, waiting for everyone else to show up. As Remus ate a sandwich he had prepared, you sat across from him reading the newspaper when suddenly, out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Sirius coming into the room. You steadily raised the paper up higher to cover your face some.

Sirius sighed as he pulled out a chair next to Remus and poured himself a glass of wine. “It’s an exhausting thing y’know.”

“What is?” Remus replied.

“Being so desirable” Sirius said leaning back in the chair and looking over at Remus.

Remus, who had now finished eating his sandwich, pushed the crust filled plate to the center of the table and got up. “Here’s an idea, how about instead of constantly reminding me just how much all these women want you, you actually start meeting with some of them?” he said in a surprisingly polite tone.

“Rem, I’m just waiting for the right one, c’mon you know-“ but before Sirius could finish, Remus was already out of the dining room.

You continued on skimming the paper but could feel Sirius’s stare in your direction despite the paper covering your view of him. Your hands tightened the edges, hoping he’d just get up and leave already.

Sirius smiled to himself, shook his head and spoke, “It’s you, you know…”

“What’s that?” you replied as casually as you could.

“You’re the one I’m waiting on.”

You slowly brought the paper down against the table and scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. He literally had done nothing but brag about all the women after him these past days and now he’s saying he wants you?

He chuckled at your obvious bewilderment, “I’ve- I’ve been trying to see if I could make you jealous with all this ‘women wanting me’ talk but you’re a tough nut to crack it seems…either that or you’re really only interested in me for the sex.”

You let the paper fall on the table completely, grabbed a piece of Remus’s leftover crust and threw it at Sirius.

Sirius laughed and took a sip of his wine, “Y’know darling, now that I think about it, you actually might be a little too young for me.”

You scoffed and forced a laugh, “This is coming from a man who still thinks trying to make someone jealous on purpose is a good way to get someone’s attention.”

“Fair enough” he chuckled, “and I’m sorry. I just did it because I wanted to see if you thought of me in that way too.”

“Well, I do…” you sheepishly admitted, “and…I did get jealous seeing you so happy at all the attention you were getting from all those women.”

Sirius smirked, “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Why? I wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of letting you know I was jealous” you scoffed.

He wiggled his eyebrows, “Well I got it now.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, “Shut up.”

Sirius took another sip of his wine and in a hushed tone said, “How about after the meeting I go and satisfy you upstairs for a bit.”

The mere thought of him touching or being in you again sent a tingle to where you needed him most but you couldn’t let him get away with what he did that easily, could you? A wicked thought occurred to you then.

“Or how about, I satisfy myself and you just watch…” you innocently said back to him using his same hushed tone.

Fuck, he thought as he felt his cock twitch. You smirked seeing his Adam’s apple gulp, knowing that in that instant, the image of you pleasuring yourself had played through his mind.

Sirius had purposefully deprived you of his touch these past days and boy was he going to have to pay greatly ;)

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #post azkaban #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine

[dailylogyn]

Logyn Meta: Loki & Sigyn’s Relationship in Mythology

It’s a classic tale, and arguably one of the most famous in mythology: How Sigyn held a bowl above her lover’s head to shield Loki from the snake’s venom, in turn, holding back Ragnarok a little longer. 

But how did Loki and Sigyn come to be married? How did they meet? How did they fall in love? 

With so many questions, but few answers we are left with in what has survived with the stories today, we are often left to ponder how the story of Loki and Sigyn came to be. As have many others before me, I will be exploring my thoughts with what information we are given to ponder as to how these two lovers became a thing.

To answer this question, we must go back to the beginning where Sigyn was first introduced to us in the mythologies, presenting the ONLY information we know about their relationship -- specifically: The Poetic Edda & Prose Edda.

In the poem, Lokasenna, the most famous of poem’s with the couple, it talks of how Loki has been bound by the gods with the guts of his son, Nari, and how his son, Vari, has been turned into a wolf. The Goddess Skadi fastens a venomous snake over Loki’s face, from which venom drips. Sigyn, stated as Loki’s wife, stays by his side and holds a basin under and catches the venom so it won’t drip onto her husband, but when the basin grows full, she pulls it away to empty it, during which time venom drops onto Loki, causing him to wither so violently that earthquakes occur that shake the entire earth. 

In the poem, Gylfaginning, Sigyn is introduced in Chapter 31 as being married to Loki and that they have a son by the name of “Narfi or Nari”. She is then mentioned again in Chapter 50 where events are described differently than in Lokasenna; Vali, described as a son of Loki only, is changed into a wolf by the gods and rips apart his brother, “Narfi or Nari.” The guts of Nari are then used to tie Loki to three stones, after which the guts turn to iron, and Skadi places a snake above Loki. Sigyn of course catches the venom in a bowl. This process is repeated until he breaks free, setting Ragnarok into motion.

In the poem, Skáldskaparmál, Sigyn is introduced as a goddess, an Æsir, where the gods are holding a feast for their visitors and in kennings for Loki: “husband of Sigyn” and “cargo [Loki] of incantation-fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms.”  

Now, knowing the little knowledge we have on their relationship, it’s time to explore it from the Viking’s point of view, which is where this all pretty much originated from, in order to understand it better.

Viking Way of Love and Life

I’m no expert in this category, in fact, I’m still learning about it as I go, but there are some important key things to note here about the Viking’s POV on things and how it ties into Loki & Sigyn’s relationship. 

Divorce was completely acceptable in Viking Times. In fact, women could own property, request a divorce and reclaim dowries if a marriage ended. She could divorce him for a good number of reasons actually. 

Women often remained faithful to their husbands, although they were known to have extramarital sex. If they were caught cheating by the husbands, it usually ended pretty badly for the women. 

A Man couldn’t marry his concubine, so his wife wouldn’t have to feel threatened about competition. They usually all lived in the same household. Adultery concerning the husband was okay, but not the wife.

Vikings didn’t categorize people as homosexual, bisexual, straight or etc.They differentiated between submissive and dominant roles in sexual relationships. Homosexuality was acceptable with limits.

Poetry was a big part of Courtship. 

Typically marriage was usually for alliances, set up by families and parents. However, this doesn’t mean there wasn’t romance or love between couples or potential marriages. 

Family life was important to Norse Men and people usually aimed to survive: typically by marrying and having children. 

How does this apply to Loki and Sigyn? Now, let’s dive into the typical hypothesis of their relationship. I call it a typical hypothesis because it hasn’t really been outright pointed out in the mythologies, but it’s something the Mythology community usually agrees on concerning Loki and Sigyn’s relationship from what we know here.

A Hypothesis into Loki & Sigyn’s Marriage

The marriage between the two of them alone is usually questioned by others, especially concerning Loki’s chaotic nature and Sigyn’s undying loyalty. Obviously, she could have divorced him whenever she wanted to if things were bad, but instead she remains by his side which leads us to the fact, not only does she truly love Loki, but she also knows more to him than we do -- as if there is a secret hidden side to the god of Mischief.

It is sometimes implied that the marriage between Loki and Sigyn was an arranged one to establish position in Asgard  -- as marriages typically were in Viking Times. This doesn’t mean there wasn’t love between them, In fact, it could have been a perfectly arranged marriage. 

Sigyn isn’t blind to Loki’s flaws, knowing perfectly well how her lover is and accepting him flaws and all -- unlike the other gods. It’s more than likely she knows about his other children: Jormungandr, Sleipnir, Hel and Fenrir, just as she probably knows about his affair with Angrboda. Again, this wasn’t an uncommon thing in Viking Times for a man to have another lover and other children with them. 

Loki is very much a family person, just as he enjoys having fun. There has never been anything alluding to him abandoning his family or abusing Sigyn and his kids despite what pop culture or other versions may say. Instead, they have been taken away from him by others in someway (ex: Vali having to kill Narvi as the gods use his insides as Loki’s bindings. Odin taking away all of Loki’s children, making Hel the ruler of the underworld, Jory the serpent of Midgard’s sea and Fenrir locked in bonds. Lets also not forget Sleipnir becoming Odin’s horse and most of his children dying during Ragnarok because of said gods. Sigyn’s whereabouts are unknown and Angrboda is dead. Case in point: I’d wanna start Ragnarok too.) 

Vikings typically used motifs or symbolism with their writings. This is where the “opposites attract/compliment each other aka Balance of nature’ comes into play. While Loki is outright known as a Trickster God, hence the God of Mischief (which is typically harmless pranks or fun), but it usually ends with bad results for him, turning into Chaos. And what’s the opposite of Chaos? Constancy and Order. Although it isn’t outright stated, she is pointed out as Loki’s loyal wife and seems to offer that Constancy to his Chaos. Hence, some of us refer to them as “Different Sides of the Same Coin.” 

Conclusion

Loki and Sigyn’s relationship is typically misunderstood by others nowadays thanks to how little information we have on them in the texts, some peoples own interpretations of their relationship (*coughs* MARVEL COMICS *coughs*) and how much Sigyn still remains to be unknown by others. 

I believe that if their relationship was to be portrayed in the proper way, taking everything here into note and not given to writers who don’t understand or refuse to take the time to understand their relationships/characters, they might actually be understood better overall. A good example of this I’ve found myself is from the German Movie: Mara and the Firebringer and Neil Gaiman’s book: Norse Mythology. They both explore Loki and Sigyn’s relationship in a proper light, not undermining either of them and exploring their thought process and actions in ways that only strength their relationship and one another as individual characters bonded together in marriage. 

Bonus mention to The Bifrost Incident by The Mechanisms for their interpretation of Loki and Sigyn’s relationship as well. 

_____________________________________________________________

SOURCES:

Viking Love: 8 Facts about Love and Love making from the Vikings - https://historycollection.com/eight-facts-love-marriage-viking-style/

The Love Life of the Vikings - https://historyofyesterday.com/love-life-of-vikings-f21c9ed58d4e

Norse Mythology Character Tropes - https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Characters/NorseMythology

Mara and the Firebringer TV Tropes (SPOILERS BEWARE) - https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Film/MaraAndTheFirebringer

Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology (Book) - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norse_Mythology_(book)

The respective Edda’s are linked above by their names. 

#logyn #norse mythology #sigyn #loki #Constancy & Chaos (Logyn) #loki x sigyn #loki and sigyn #logyn meta #the bifrost incident #mara and the firebringer

[yelenasdog]

𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐖𝐈  𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: wherever they go, it seems they can’t escape each other

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 6.09k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smoking, drinking, kissing, getting ~steamy~, but nothing explicit.

𝐚/𝐧: this kinda feels melodramatic at times, but over all i think this is an alright fic that took me forever LOL! i hope you enjoy it! btw,

this can be read as ben!rog or just rog, i just was thinking of ben!rog when i wrote it

also if u wanna listen to kiwi while listening, the vibes would be immaculate and i reccomend it :D kk enjoy

✺🎬✺

Her footsteps were mute as she padded forward on the concrete, searching furiously through her crochet bag. The box in her hands stayed tightly gripped though, Roger noted. He waited a bit until he was certain she had no chance of finding what he thought she was looking for, and that he would be her last resort.

“Need a light?”

He watched with careful eyes as the girl next to him fumbled about to pick out a cigarette from the nearly emptied box, probably just some cheap ones from the gas station near the dorms.

“Yes, thanks.”

The brunet nodded, bringing his forward to her’s and inhaling, a few loose embers falling to the ground in a sparkling orange flurry.

Roger observed the way her chipped nails on ring adorned fingers shakily held the cigarette as she brought it to her lips, taking a very long drag.

It was windy out that night (which was the reason he was telling himself he decided not to bother with his Zippo), her silky black dress doing barely a thing to keep her covered from the chilly temperatures. He noticed the blue tint to her formerly painted lips, only a pale stain of color left behind. He also happened to notice the goosebumps that graced her exposed arms and legs, and her slight shiver that came with it.

The girl nervously adjusted the twisted strap to her purse, sending a glance in Rog’s direction every once in a while, but mostly she kept her gaze fixed on the stars above. She seemed to be mesmerized by the way they twinkled so brightly, even in the polluted sky. The bottles of liquor in her purse clinked together, and she cringed visibly at the sound, a shiver being sent through her bones.

He smiled at her behavior, oddly endeared by it, perhaps even enchanted.

“What’s your name?”

She turned, taking the stick from between her lips. Roger kept his eyes glued to the plump flesh momentarily despite the movement away from the area.

“That’s none of your business, Roger.” She smiled, a playful look set ablaze in her eyes.

He looked down, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“How do you know my name, then?” He questioned curiously, slanting his eyes and quirking a brow.

“Your band.” Her voice seemed softer, almost a fond tone set within it.

“You’ve seen us play?”

“Yeah, you guys are good.”

“You’re a fan then?”

She chuckled, looking to her feet.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

He laughed, nodding yet again.

They stayed together for some time, silently and mutually agreeing that enough had been said. They finished off their smokes, and with that, she turned to go.

“Bye, Roger.”

He bit his lip, feeling the sting shoot through him. He was conflicted on if to make a move, not wanting to diminish his confident and cool reputation he believed he had built for himself. He settled for shouting something along the lines of “will I see you around?” (which upon thinking back over it, maybe it wasn’t that cool), to which she only shrugged and kept walking.

He could hear the bottles loudly clanking together as she sauntered off, lord knows where to. He watched her go until she turned the corner, tossing one final look in his direction before continuing on, leaving him in deep thought.

-

“I’m telling you, mate, she was drop dead gorgeous. And I have no idea who she is, no name or anything!”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his notebook across the room onto the yellow sofa Roger was resting on, turning his full attention to his distraught friend.

“Well, did you ask her for her name?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes in a similar manner to Bri. “Yes, I did. She said it was ‘none of my business’.” He scoffed, twirling a single drumstick between his fingers while tapping his foot repeatedly, annoying Brian to no end (per usual). The curly headed man only barked out a laugh, finding the entire situation quite humorous, if he was being honest.

“But she knew the band! Said that she thought we were good. S’ like she couldn’t make up her damn mind.” He grumbled, slumping forward.

“Wait, she knows the band?”

The drummer looked at him like he had two heads nodding slowly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Brian stood up and sighed, grabbing his guitar and headed to the edge of the bar’s stage, resting behind the curtain briefly.

“You really are thick, Roger.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He joined him by the curtain, noticing Tim had come up behind the pair.

“What’s all this about, then?”

“Nothing.” Brian and Roger replied in unison. Tim huffed, making his way onto the stage where the growing crowd was waiting. Cheers could be heard for the frontman as he introduced himself, saying something about how the rest of the band would be out in a second, and that they were just having some “sound issues”.

“Rog, if she’s a fan, she’s probably here tonight, yes?”

His eyes widened, and he suddenly began to feel quite dumb, not that he would admit it.

“Yeah, I suppose so…but she said she wasn’t a fan?” He trailed off, confused.

“She probably was just saying that for some reason. I don’t know, women are odd, they like to play hard to get.” Brian commented, oddly flippant for how conflicting his statement was.

Roger stood in place for a moment, still greatly confused what Brian was trying to get at. He shook his head and furrowed his brows, trying to put together the puzzle of this mess in his mind.

“Roger, for God's sake, don’t think about it, just go.”

Following his advice, Roger did his best to disregard any previous thoughts of confusion, a switch flipping in his mind. He stood taller, saying, “You know what Bri, maybe you’re right.”

“Great, go on then.” He watched as Roger bounded out with a newfound adrenaline and a smile plastered on his face, rolling his eyes for what wouldn’t be the final time that night at his bandmate’s antics.

As soon as he had made it behind his kit, he was scanning the crowded room, trying to locate the girl from last night. He watched the door throughout the performance, trying to see if she might have just come in a bit late. He held the hope she would somehow show up with him in his mind, but all to no avail.

The entire night, he couldn’t shake the thought of her lips from his mind, or the way the skin of her neck was so open and exposed, practically begging for him to attack it with his own lips. And with the way things were going thus far, he was sure that pretty face of her’s would be the death of him, he was certain, in fact.

“Find her?” Bri had questioned almost as soon as they had ended for the night, the lot of them now working on cleaning up.

“Nah. She never showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Rog. Maybe you’ll see her again soon, the campus isn’t that huge, you know.” Roger’s mouth formed a thin line as he raised his eyebrows, not convinced in the slightest that the situation proposed would occur.

“At this point I’m wondering if she’s even a bloody student here.” Roger grumbled, obviously no longer feeling the initial electric adrenaline of the night's performance.

Brian frowned, placing a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder and patting it once or twice before standing to go finish packing up.

It was later now, and the boys were finally leaving the bar, bidding their goodbyes to those around them. Roger walked out the front (in what Tim and Brian joked was a ‘moping manner’), hearing the bell jangle above his head, ringing annoyingly in his ear. The cold air hit him like an arctic breeze (or a ton of bricks, he wasn’t sure which description was more fitting). He shook his head and blinked a few times, as if that would rid his body of the frigid feeling. He sighed dramatically and pulled his corduroy jacket tighter around himself, watching as his breath made a small cloud in front of him.

“Roger?”

He turned, recognizing the voice immediately.

“Having a pity party, are you?” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“It’s only me, so no. Not a party.”

She “ahh”-d in understanding, her mouth forming into a sly grin. Her lips were a pale pink color that night, her eyes a bright blue shade. And similarly to the night previous, she was graced with only a brown fringed dress, her matching boots in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.

“Then what would it be if I joined you?”

He stood in thought, tilting his head. “I think then, yeah, it would be a party.”

“Do you not get cold, ever?” He added after a beat of silence, observing her ill outfit choice for the frosty climate. She rolled her eyes, muttering out a brief “ha, ha.”

Roger couldn’t help but bite his lip, holding back a laugh.

“I do on occasion get a little bit chilly. But I like the feeling.”

He tilted his head, walking over to where she was leaning against the brick wall of the dive bar. He turned to face her, not that she noticed, putting his weight on the rough surface behind him.

“It makes me feel,” she hesitated, struggling to find the right word, although she felt it was right on the tip of her tongue.

“Alive?”

She finally met his eyes after what seemed like forever, softly nodding. To him, she looked like an angel in that moment, the street light so beautifully illuminating her locks like a halo around her. He reached a cautious hand forward, dragging it against her cheek, down to her bottom lip.

Her mind was screaming at her to leave while she still could, to somehow not fall in the mix of the infamous campus player that was Roger Taylor.

But her heart? Well, as cliche as it sounds, her heart was telling her to disregard any reasonable thoughts and just kiss the bastard, for God’s sake.

And if anyone knew Y/n Y/l/n, they knew that most times, she would listen to the latter mentioned, rather than the former. And so after several moments of unbearable silence, she decided she would. Catching on relatively fast, Roger took her flush against him, Y/n able to feel his breath fanning over her face.

She leaned forward with a small smile, placing her hands on either side of his face. Her eyes wandered to his plump and rosy lips, adrenaline pumping through her veins. But before she could make the final leap, so to say, Brian, of all people, called out her name in a confused nature, squinting, believing that it might have been his eyes deceiving him. The girl from his 9 a.m. lecture could not possibly be about to snog his bandmate.

Impossible.

Her eyes widened, head turning immediately when hearing her name fall from his lips.

“Brian, hey!”

“Wait, you two know each other?”

Ignoring Roger’s (panicked) question, Brian walked over, a look of amazement still prevalent in his features. She moved from Roger’s side over to Brian, giving him a side hug, Bri’s arm resting on her shoulders.

“I see you’ve met Y/n. She’s in my astronomy class.”

She smiled brightly as the neon signs lining the downtown district of bars and restaurants alike, meeting Brians gaze.

“Yup, got to love Dr. Martin’s lectures.” She chuckled, the tall man next to her doing the same.

Picking up on Roger’s absolutely bewildered appearance, still taking in the situation unfolding in front of him, Brian took the liberty of initiating another conversation.

“So, Y/n, did you see the show tonight?”

She frowned, crossing her arms.

“Wanted to, but no, got caught up in the library. I have my final for statistics on Thursday, or else I would have been there.” She locked eyes with Roger, giving him a soft smile. Suddenly changing her demeanor, she reached into her bag she always seemed to have with her, pulling out those cheap cigarettes and her Zippo. She lit one of the sticks, inhaling.

“In fact, I heard your drummer was incredible, so I thought I would try to see him in action tonight.” Her gaze never left Rogers as she conversed, her mouth pressed in a line, the rest of her face completely neutral.

“But you’ve seen us before Y/n, he’s been with the band for quite some time.”

“I mean, I wanted to see him with a fresh pair of eyes, a different perspective, I guess.”

Still mildly confused, Brain shook his head and muttered something like “Right, okay” to which Y/n softly smiled at before dropping the cigarette from her hand. Barefoot, she couldn’t reach down to step on it, have the sparks die out under her toes.

“Could one of you get that, please?”

Roger nodded immediately, his boot finding its way quickly, the toe of it making a circular motion. His eyes stayed on Y/n, as had hers before. And despite the bustling city around them, Hell, even despite Brian’s perplexed stare, it felt oddly intimate, as if they were locked onto each other’s view (not that they were complaining).

But they weren’t, as she proved mere seconds later, abruptly bidding them goodbye and heading the opposite direction.

The pair of boys watched her as she went, heads tilted and jaws dropped to where if their mothers were present, they would be scolded to “close their mouths before they catch flies in there!”.

“That’s her, you know.” Roger commented bluntly, slightly shaking his head and then popping his lip.

Brian took a moment, turning toward his friend, stuttering.

“As in, her, her? Y/n is mystery girl?” He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, well, good luck with that, Rog.”

“Why would I need that, Brian?” He challenged, putting his hands on his hips, lifting his chin. Brain kept his assumed position, moving his hand to scratch at his neck.

‘Well, I’m sure if you hang out around her enough, you’ll find out.”

Rather than shouting out at him, asking him what the Hell he meant, as he really wanted to, Roger paid Bri no attention, not even giving him a second look before under his breath saying “I’ll see you later”, and in what Brian considered to be a quite shocking turn of events, bolting off in the direction Y/n had gone.

He ignored the shouts from Brian, ignored the judgmental stares and loud whispers of those who recognized him from the band. He no longer cared about keeping his ‘cool reputation’, not when she was so close.

“Is that Roger Taylor?”, “Oi, isn’t that the drummer from the band at the pub?”, “Hey, why’s he buggin’ out?” all flooded his ears, usually followed by what seemed to be snickering, making a desperate attempt to cloud his mind from his self-assigned mission. But it was no use, as he was set on catching up to her. In fact, she was so close he swore he could smell the mixed scent that was uniquely her, smoke and her perfume.

He hollered her name, God, he yelled it till his throat was hoarse, just ‘cause he could. He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, he loved the fact he even had learned it to begin with, and that alone was probably why he adored it so much.

She heard his cries, turning where she stood and tilting her head.

“Roger? What on Earth are you doing?”

He finally met her, bent over on his hands and knees, breath lost in totality. She placed a concerned hand on his sweaty head, combing through his chocolate locks. He would have shivered at the feeling, if he had the energy. Rather, he looked up with the goofiest smile she’d ever seen, resembling a golden retriever, or german shepherd perhaps, in human form.

‘D’you wanna go somewhere with me? Hang out a bit?”

She nodded, holding out a hand.

“Lead the way.”

-

“Mom and Dad want me to be some kind of a scientist, study the stars.”

“Yeah? And what do you think about that.”

She tilted her head, shifting her position.

“I’m not quite sure. I wouldn’t be against it, that I know. The stars are beautiful, but they aren’t where my heart lies, I guess.”

He turned to face her, their noses almost touching. She could feel his breath fanning over her face, and the proximity sent butterflies through her stomach.

“I want to be an actress.” She all but whispered, turning her attention back to the full night sky and the wonders that hung in it.

“An actress, huh?”

She only hummed a confirmation, moving her left hand to pick at the cool grass under her palms.

“I could see that. You, I mean, on the big screens.”

She turned, and Roger swore he had never seen anyone smile so big before in his life.

“Really?”

His own smile grew, and she nodded vigorously, the two of them beginning to laugh. He pulled her closer by her shoulders, unaware of where the conversation would lead.

“I’ll go to New York. You’ll see me on billboards in Times Square.”

“Well, that’s nice to know. I’ll just be a lone dentist somewhere, while you forget all about me, having lavish parties and such. Whatever it is that famous people do.” His voice was obviously joking, melodramatic was written all over him, yet Y/n couldn’t help but still feel a sliver of guilt.

She hit his arm, rolling back over to face him. She still had a smile glued onto her lips, both of their eyes crinkling at the edges. 

“Oh, shut up, will you? Smile will make it big, and we’ll meet again, when you’re on tour. Or perhaps if I’m filming where you’re performing! We’ll have those nights to ourselves, It’ll be a secret rendezvous.”

She turned to her back again, finding his hand on the damp green, her heart beating a million miles a second as she reached for it, slowly entangling her fingers in his.

“The papers will write about us, Rog, when they find out. ‘Famous actress Y/n Y/l/n seen leaving a hotel with renowned drummer Roger Taylor’ is what the headlines will say. God, what a scene we’ll cause.” Her eyes were full of  excitement as she spoke, her heart feeling like it was so filled with glee that it could soar out of her chest.

“Well, I wanna know the specifics.” Roger sat up, pulling her up with him, she giggled, and the brunette wrapped a hand around her waist. She sat beside him, the streetlight by the backroad she had led them on illuminating her like a silhouette. She bit her lip and grinned, tilting her head up to better exam Rogers angelic features.

“Are you gonna have some bloke waiting for you at home, hmm? Waiting for you while you conquer the world, only for you to break his poor heart?”

“Nah.” Her answer was immediate, her eyes honest as she spoke. “Only a cactus. He’ll be my only friend. I hear it’s lonely in Hollywood, Roger.” He raised his eyebrows briefly at this, choosing his next words.

“You’ll have me?”

His head turned to look at her, admiring the way the pale moonlight illuminated her, the artificial light from the streetlamps not doing her neverending beauty and justice, in his opinion. Their eyes seemed sporadic, searching each other's faces for signs of what they were doing, possibly being wrong, but they found nothing, as expected.

The yearning had become all too much for the inspired pair, and it felt like at last, all they could do, the only thing they could do, was kiss.

So they did. Roger took her face in his hands, closing his beautiful eyes, his eyelashes barely brushing against hers. He leaned forward, joining them together, finding that they immediately moved in a perfect synchronization. They were like two sides of the same coin, and that seemed to be particularly evident in that moment. By the contrast of their lips, or perhaps the aspirations of their careers becoming somehow just a little bit clearer.

But it didn’t matter, none of it did. Not in the long run. So they pulled apart, chests heaving and faces painted with childish grins.

It was quiet then, only the crickets and the howling wind could be heard. But she liked it that way, preferred it, actually. So quiet, in fact, that Roger was able to fall fast asleep, Y/n lying comfortably in his arms. She stared at the stars, then back to his sleeping figure, her mind unable to come to a consensus on what on God's green Earth she was to do. 

She settled for placing a kiss on his jaw, closing her eyes. His eyes only fluttered, never waking completely. She muttered something like “See you, rockstar.” against it, before standing up and walking away, only turning back once to see his sleeping form one more time.

That was the last time for 6 years that he would see Y/n Y/l/n. See her in person, at least.

When he woke up the next morning, he was confused to say the least, wondering why Y/n didn’t wake him, mostly wondering where she had even gone. He looked around himself, patting the green grass beneath him, as if she somehow was invisible and he had missed her upon initial glance. He had shouted for her, his throat still hurting from when he did the same thing only 12 hours previous. 

He had felt out of control, like the one he had been chasing had just slipped through his fingers (which it had). He had remembered asking Bri, day after day, if he had seen her in class, even just seen her around in general. Everytime the answer was the same.

“No Roger”, “I’m sorry, Roger”, “Not today, Roger”. It was a horrible, predictable pattern, that he had enough of. He was supposed to recover from it quickly, bounce back from her almost immediately, as there was basically nothing to bounce back from.

But he couldn’t, and due to such reasons, he supposed he finally understood what Brian had said, or warned, that night before he had gone chasing after her. He got it, in his own sad way.

And over the years, she slowly faded to the back of the drummer's mind, behind groupies, and songs, and shows, and such, just for her to resurface again any time he saw her on a billboard, just as she had promised. But he never let it show, outwardly at least.

He had made Brian swear not to tell the others, never to breathe a word of it to Deaky or Fred. He was embarrassed by it, for some reason, and that’s why he guessed he forbade him from speaking of it. But how long can you keep a silly college secret from your nosy bandmates? Apparently 6 years, tops, for Roger Taylor.

“Alright, everyone. Gather ‘round, I’ve got a surprise.” Freddie had said, his grumbling bunch of friends tired from their day’s work. Though, they usually had grown to appreciate and look forward to Fred’s “surprises”, today everyone was just a tad bit too grumpy to try (a certain Roger Taylor in particular, let’s call it foreshadowing).

“Oh, stop your moaning and whining, please, I promise this will be good!” the eccentric frontman had said, something hidden behind his back in his left hand.

Rog ran a hand through his, now, blond hair, exhaling in such a way that made Freddie slant his eyes, before giving in and rolling them at his flippant behavior.

“What’s going on, Fred?” Brian had been the brave soul to ask, stepping forward and then looking away momentarily to place his guitar onto a stand waiting not so far away.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He replied, jumping down from his place on the risers, removing his hand from his back and holding out what seemed to be 4 tickets to something. He walked down the loosely formed line of men, putting one in each of their extended palms. Roger, at the end of their formation of sorts, became concerned when Brian had burst out laughing, looking to his right, being met with Roger’s face of confusion.

Freddie, possibly more confused than Roger, pressing the piece of thick paper into his hand, his gaze falling onto Brian, who now had tears in his eyes.

“Bri, what’s so… funny. Shit.” He had looked down to the slip, the only words he needed to read to know he was absolutely screwed, being “Jaws” and “Premiere”.

Now, anybody who knew anything, knew that Y/n Y/l/n was going to be in the film that was said to become the blockbuster of the summer, playing the role of Ellen Brody (though a few had said she was far too young for the job). She had been an overnight success in the film industry, gaining popularity from the 1973 film, ‘The Sting’, playing Billie.

And Roger had watched ‘The Sting’, and you can imagine his surprise when Y/n had sauntered onto screen, red lipped and fresh faced. (He had to admit, she looked great in a suit.)

After that, the assault on Roger’s fragile heart was never ending.

Billboards began to pop up even more frequently as she was to star in more films, and it seemed no matter where he was touring, he couldn’t escape her. Whether it was posters, her face printed on newspapers, adverts in about every place business was done for one of her films, he felt like he was being followed. He had even seen an article about her in a magazine, and when he had flipped the page he was greeted with Queen’s smiling faces.

He had stopped watching them after ‘American Graffiti’.

So, he figured that this one wouldn’t be any different, and he simply planned on ignoring said film until he caved, doing his best to avoid her on the silver screen and anywhere else, which hadn’t been too difficult until this point (not).

But this? This was a whole new level of being royally fucked.

“Brian, Rog, something you want to share with the rest of the class?” John had asked, cocking his head and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Brian began to speak, wrapping an arm around Roger’s shoulders, the shorter man looking up at him with angry fire burning in his eyes.

“Well, I’m honestly quite excited. The film industry has always seemed very intriguing, actually, and I’m looking forward to meeting new people. Rog?”

“No.”

“No?” John repeated, “No, what?” He waved a hand around, trying to understand what Roger’s problem was.

“I just- I don’t- I knew-”

“Roger had a fling with Y/n Y/l/n and she broke his heart.” Brain blurted out, Roger turning and immediately smacking him upside his curly head of hair. He regarded an “Ouch!” before him and the rest of the boys burst out laughing, the drummer not included in that demographic, fuming.

“Rog, darling, when was this? How did we not know?” Freddie managed to breathe out, sitting down next to Deaky on the studio sofa. He crossed his hands and ankles, his full attention turned towards Roger who really, really didn’t wanna have to do this, and who really, really was gonna get Brian back for this later. Would he untune all his guitars? Unplug his amp during rehearsals, perhaps put hair remover in his shampoo? But, that would have to wait until after he was forced to spill his 6 year secret.

“It was in 69-”

“69?!” Freddie had cried out. “It’s been 6 bloody years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“Well I didn’t really see a reason it would be necessary to tell you all! In fact, I probably wouldn’t have told you ever if this bloke didn’t have such a big mouth!”

“Hey, watch it.” Brian weighed in, crossing his arms and fluttering his eyes.

“Look, Roger I really don’t see the issue here. We go to the premiere, you just keep a low profile and ignore Y/n, problem solved.” John cut in, trying to be helpful.

Keyword: trying.

“And how exactly will I do that?”

“We will behave, I promise.” Freddie added, though Roger seemed to be having a difficult time believing him or his claim for the others. So Roger only scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

-

Cameras were flashing brightly, reporters and such were shouting loudly, and Y/n was already exhausted.

Her red lips were painted like DeAngelo had done it himself, and her hair was styled just the way she liked. The heels she was wearing per request of her stylist, though, were horrible. They looked lovely, yes, but they were digging into her poor ankles, and she still had to wear them for who knew how long. She didn’t complain, though, she wouldn’t dream of it.

She would just continue her slow walk down the carpet, a sultry smile on her face. The black fabric of the gown she was wearing fit her beautifully, snug in all the right places.

She sure hoped it was, at least. Especially because she knew that he would be there.

Roger Taylor, the blessed drummer that managed to make a home in the backburner of her mind, his success coming as no surprise to the actress. She had loved every one of their records, and rather than running from his work like Roger had, she opted for going straight to the record shop, purchasing any and every Queen album in her sight. When she had checked out, the very shocked cashier had made some remark, asking something about “you a fan?”

She had thought about it for a moment, thinking back to all those years ago when Roger had asked the same thing. She smiled, shrugging.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

So when she had worked up the courage to invite the entire band to the premiere (on behalf of Spielberg, of course) she was a nervous wreck to find out they had accepted. Really, ask anyone who had any contact with her in the time from then to the premiere, they could testify that her moodiness had risen like a hot air balloon.

Now, though, she was kind of regretting that she had invited them, looking over to the sharp looking bunch, all dressed to the nines. She scanned her eyes over them, catching a wave from Brian, which she gladly returned with an enthusiastic smile. Bri then tapped Roger on the shoulder to alert him of Y/n’s acknowledgment, which resulted in Y/n’s eyes widening to the size of moons.

She turned her head, and worked to finish up her walk of the carpet just a tad bit faster. It all seemed to be for nothing, though, as in the dark of the theater for the premiere itself, she saw the seat next to her be filled, a presence filling her senses.

“Miss me?”

-

Their hands were all over each other, not truly caring if the tabloids caught a glimpse, just needing to make up for lost time.

They had stumbled into the golden hotel both her and Queen were staying in, the swinging doors of the New York establishment blowing a cool gust of wind in their direction.

They merely laughed at the minor interruption, their teeth clashing as they both smiled momentarily. It was soon forgotten, though, both of them having much more pressing matters in their minds.

They only came to a cease in the elevator, some old couple who most definitely did not care about whatever pressing issue the two of them felt they had, standing off to the side. (Y/n could swear she saw the older woman smirk and wink at her, to which she cocked her head and smiled.)

Once back into the safe confines of Y/n’s suite, they resumed like they had never even stopped, hands gravitating towards the others form as if they were opposite magnets, unable to be separated for too long.

“You’ve driven me crazy, you know that, right? “

She giggled and bit her lip, looking up into his eyes, their foreheads pressed together.

“Mmm? I’d hope so.”

He pulled away, shaking his head, blond locks following suit.

“Really, you have no idea. I haven’t been able to shake you from my head. You’re everywhere.”

Her excitement could barely be contained at his confession of sorts, chest heaving, trying to stay calm.

“Yeah, that was the plan.”

Roger shook his head with a dry chuckle, looking to his feet and back to her when she had tilted his head up, her finger resting on his jaw.

“Well, are you into it?” She questioned, grabbing his hand and pulling their clasped fingers in between their chests, her eyes hazy with hope.

“Yeah.” He titled his head, feigning a pondering look. “You could say I’m kinda into it.”

“Shut it!”

“Make me.”

She rolled her eyes at his stupidly provocative suggestion, and he only laughed, the two of them falling onto the plush comfort of the bed in a meshed flurry for the remainder of the night.

And if you couldn’t guess what could have possibly happened next, the black dress ended up in a pooled up pile next to the bed that night, right next to the heels that finally she had the pleasure of discarding.

The next morning, it was unlike the one 6 years ago, as when Roger woke up, he was overjoyed to find a sleeping Y/n, laying on his chest with hair splayed around her. And he had to say, he usually wasn’t much of a cuddler, but for some reason he felt so incredibly endeared, that anything else wouldn’t have sufficed.

He ran small circles on the exposed skin of her bare shoulder, the comforter concealing the rest of her limbs that were tangled up with Roger’s.

When she stirred, Roger sat up, fondly watching as her eyes fluttered open and her tongue ran across her dried lips, still carrying a hint of last night's red pigment. She looked next to her, her eyeline matching up with the covered skin of Roger’s lap.

She sighed, shifting her head to rest on his thighs as her feet dangled off of the bed. One of Roger’s hands came up to softly massage the top of her head, the other against the headboard, behind his neck. She stared at the ceiling, an unreadable expression creeping its way to her features.

“We were jacked up last night.” Roger’s voice cut through the silence they shared, deeper in the late morning than she had heard before.

“Correction, you were jacked up.”

“Whatever.”

They laughed, silence soon taking over once again. Roger sighed, closing his ever tired eyes.

“Are we gonna pay for this?”

She scoffed, inhaling deeply before reaching over to the nightstand, grabbing her carton of cigarettes. He noticed they were the same brand from college, a small smile making its way to his face at the thought.

She first lit hers, then lighting a second one for the man occupying her king sized bed (though she wasn’t even slightly upset by this, quite the opposite). She handed it to him, sticking her own between her lips and sitting up, straddling where her head had been minutes before.

She leaned forward, so close their noses were to the point where they were nearly touching. She took the cigarette from her lips, blowing the smoke to the left of Rog in the direction of the large balcony overlooking Times Square. She turned her attention back to him, though it had never really left, tilting her head.

“Do you regret it?”

“No.” The answer came immediately, no careful consideration or pondering needed.

“Right.” She removed herself from him, standing and taking the sheet with her, letting it cover her like a renaissance dress. She walked over to the balcony, leaning against the frame of the double doors. She took another drag, an adoring smile spreading across her face.

“Then there’s your answer.”

She paused, Roger tilted his head, his brows lifting.

“Of course we will.”

✺🎬✺

if u liked that hot mess pls like and rb!! mwah ily go eat protein and drink water if ur able. xx hj

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[wavesmp3]

[hyunjae] the sea is yours to take

pairing: lee jaehyun x (female) reader genre: fantasy, royalty au, romance, slow burn warnings: mentions of death, some violence wc: 36k

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jaehyun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts. 

a/n: and here i present another reposted fic because yolo. the original work version is here if you’re interested. this fic contains a very odd mix of tbz members and ocs so beware. also the line breaks indicate a new chapter (sort of). anyways enjoy but warning the beginning is very slow.  

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

And as soon as the servant had entered the equipment room, he leaves as well. Out of fear. Out of urgency. Perhaps out of both. You had assumed it was only a matter of time until the King would call for you. Afterall, murdering one of his most trusted lords who’s also a member of his council is not a crime that goes undiscussed.

You look around the training room. The walls are adorned with swords, daggers and knives. Some of your own and some of belonging to the Golden Palace. You grab a dagger off the wall and push it in your boot. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in the case anything was to happen.

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Orindell had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Orindell asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Orindell had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Orindell had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Orindell would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Juyeon and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Juyeon.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Seth.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Juyeon’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Juyeon.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Juyeon now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Juyeon. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re reminded of the lifetime before his enrollment in the army, the Knights of the Holy Order. The memory makes you sad. Despite the bleached shade to his brown hair and the dimness in his usually light eyes, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps a lot had changed for him too.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Orindell-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jaehyun was not one for traveling. To Jaehyun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jaehyun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jaehyun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jaehyun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jaehyun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jaehyun understands even less why his father and Captain Younghoon put up with it. 

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party. 

"Lord Jaehyun," Younghoon says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this." 

And of course, Younghoon is right. Jaehyun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jaehyun has yet to see the latter tale, Younghoon is right; Jaehyun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River. 

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jaehyun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river. 

"Yes," Younghoon hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season." 

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jaehyun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well." 

"It does." Younghoon says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Younghoon must sense Jaehyun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jaehyun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."  

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You approach the doors to the throne room alone and with heavy footsteps. You stop in front of the door, a feeing resembling fear crawling up your spine and wrapping around your neck. You shake the feeling away and remind yourself that you are the Gift of Fortitude with abilities and powers unmatched by even the best among the Knights of the Holy Order. The King and his council were only one of many regimes you have seen, that you have lived through. Without you, the King was nothing. You have nothing to fret. Yet still, something about the air in the corridor and the dagger in your boot makes you nervous. Something about the life of a Lord who was only following orders from the King makes you shiver. 

Regardless, you nod at the guard of the throne room, and he opens the door, announcing your presence to the room anyways. As you enter the room, you think the King has outdone himself this time. Archers line the perimeter of the room, tucked away in the balconies and presumably safe from you. The throne room usually hosts a party of six guards, but today, you count twenty swordsmen lined along the carpet, and skilled ones at that. You swallow a laugh at the dagger clinking against your ankles. Perhaps you should’ve slipped a knife under your skirt as well. But either way, you’re confident in your skills. If this broke out into a fight, you against the guards and archers, you would prevail. But to spare the boys and girls who stand around you, shaking in their armor, you would do everything in your power to avoid that.

“Gift,” the King calls to you from across the throne room, “do you know why you’re here?” The King has a smile as he asks it, knowing that for the first time in his rule, he has the upper hand over you. Hell, this is the first time since the rule of King Avi that any King has had power over you.

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Peter’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Peter and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Roen, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Roen’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Roen is Prince Orindell who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Orindell meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Orindell the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King, differently from the others in the room, sits up straight and attentive. His smile taunts you like a dog, holding your freedom above your nose as you jump through hoops for him. You hate the man that sits before you. His throne is flashier, his rings are bigger, and his profits are lower. He is reckless and foolish. He doesn't understand the teetering balance of his own kingdom, of his entire world. He seeks out matters he doesn't understand and toys with those that should not be disturbed. And above all, the man seated before you should have never inherited the crown.

"Yes Lord King," you say, finally answering his question. "I know why you have asked for me today. Although, you need not ask such useless questions." You pause for a moment, your next words simmering on the tip of your tongue. "I miss your father for that reason, he wasn't so persistently foolish." 

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers. 

"You should be more mindful of the treason that leaves your mouth, Gift." The King tells you, his confidence dented but his smile as evil as ever. "The blood of one of my most trusted Lords stains your hands, and if you continue such pathetic, pointless defiance, your blood will stain the floors of this room."

You hum. "Perhaps, but you underestimate me, Lord King, greatly. And if you think you know the extent of my skill, then let me say that for the entirety of your small life, you have never seen me fight with the intention to kill. If the men and women you have assembled for me attack, you will be sitting over their dead bodies."

“And then what? You’ll have taken the lives of even more innocent people.” And at this you falter. At this, you’re forced to give the King credit because he knows where to land his blows. He knows how to keep your freedom so close you can smell it, but still far enough so that you can’t have it. But you gulp down your guilt and continue regardless.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Roen's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court." 

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return." 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect. 

"Father, you can't-" Orindell blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom." 

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’. 

“You!” Orindell shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Roen cuts Orindell off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Orindell is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Roen's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Peter's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today."  The name Jaehyun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jaehyun’s name before. Jaehyun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago. 

 “But—” Orindell begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Seth to prevent."

You know now, with the King’s final threat, that you must hold out on your freedom. Even if the King’s threat is a bluff, the risk of it alone takes priority. With one last deep exhale, you conform.

You spare the princes’ thrones one last glance before reaching into your boot and dropping the dagger you had tucked inside. The dagger hits the stone floor with an obnoxious clatter. The sound of your acceptance echoes throughout the walls hauntingly. You exit the throne room and head straight to your personal quarters without another word.

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Orindell, for Juyeon, for Roen, for Peter. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

 That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Roen. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food. 

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Roen?" 

 A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Roen's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

You hum, recognizing the lingering in his movements and the longing in his voice as something particular to youth, something hidden in your own memories, and something you beg to forget. You swallow your thoughts down and focus on comforting the boy in front of you.

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Roen. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this." 

He smiles again, “Thank you."  He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Roen pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Roen please, I don't need your pity." 

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jaehyun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Younghoon." You vaguely knew of Captain Younghoon. He was the youngest ever Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jaehyun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son. 

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Roen asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely." 

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Roen radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Roen. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Roen.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?" 

You hesitate, thinking back to the times before you had returned to the Golden Palace. "Perhaps not as clever as your father. But kind and empathetic. He possessed a certain understanding of this kingdom although at times, he could be impulsive. At the end of the day, your grandfather was a good king, and you've managed to inherit all his best traits." 

"Were you close to him?" 

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. You spend it immersed in your memories.

Finally, Roen speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner. 

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Orindell to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real. 

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Orindell,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Orindell means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Orindell, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Roen was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Orindell had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each  other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered. 

“Indeed, he does.” 

“Then…” Orindell hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Orindell was simple and delightful, of a time when Orindell was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Orindell reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Roen. In a way, that makes Orindell so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Orindell.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.” 

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.” 

“I wish I knew her.”

There is no pain in his voice as he says it, and yet you feel so much pain when he does. “She would’ve loved you.” Then you pause before saying the next part with a laugh dancing under your voice.  “In fact—well don’t tell the other two—but she probably would’ve loved you the most.” 

Orindell laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Peter then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Peter reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Peter long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Orindell hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Orindell waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.” 

“Orindell,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Orindell telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Orindell persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Orindell, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Orindell, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Orindell.”

“Not until-”

“Just go,” you seethe, the anger seeping from between your teeth. You don't wait for a response, storming to the other side of the room, near the fire. You stand by it for a second, the heat only adding to the flame burning inside you. And when you’ve had enough, your anger bursting from its seams, you kick the neat stack of firewood beside you. All seven logs go flying, one of them dents the wall. You focus on your breathing.

There’s another knock at the door. “Orindell, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Juyeon. “Oh, Juyeon,” you say in shock. 

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile. 

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Roen told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire. 

“Roen sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Roen always talks plenty,” Juyeon hums, amused but calm.

Juyeon, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Juyeon turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Juyeon was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Juyeon contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Juyeon, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Juyeon was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother. 

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Juyeon crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Orindell's inability to control himself and his emotions." 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort. 

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too." 

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Orindell and you?" 

You nod although there is no 'Orindell and you'. There is only Orindell's foolishness and your reason. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew." 

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was." 

"It appears even time can't change that." Juyeon jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again. 

"Have you heard any word from Peter?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Juyeon's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames. 

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.” 

“And…?” Juyeon asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.” 

Juyeon sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now." 

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.”  You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Peter's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Peter to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Peter to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Avi, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Juyeon shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Peter decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Juyeon sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Juyeon's words. Peter is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Peter. Peter trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Peter grew, so did his skill. By the time Peter had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Peter as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Peter that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Peter is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Peter is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache." 

Juyeon sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

“I hate to ask this—”

“Then don’t.” 

“—but why did you send Peter to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Juyeon, I—”

“Try,” you meet his eyes, they look darker in this light or perhaps it’s his own confusion and hopeless need to understand that makes his eyes turn to the color of bark after a thunderstorm, “please.”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Juyeon. I  struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Peter that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Peter before he took off.

Juyeon stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Juyeon quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Peter? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

You don’t even hear him, your head suddenly splitting with pain. “When did we speak about this before?” You ask, helplessly wondering how you possibly could have forgotten an entire conversation.

“The memory,” Juyeon emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Juyeon, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

His entire body seems to sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before letting go of your face. Your mind turns white with fog the moment he lets go. You  immediately drop your head into your hands again. The pain in your head so intense you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Eventually, you taste blood.

“I’m sorry.” Juyeon mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room. 

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jaehyun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jaehyun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jaehyun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jaehyun and Younghoon unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jaehyun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human. 

Jaehyun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jaehyun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jaehyun can think of to describe you. 

The King had sent a message to Jaehyun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jaehyun’s and Captain Younghoon’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jaehyun and Younghoon were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jaehyun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Younghoon, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jaehyun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King. 

But now, as Jaehyun and Younghoon walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jaehyun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jaehyun, and Captain Younghoon." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jaehyun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace, if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Roen and Prince Orindell sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Peter's throne is empty. Jaehyun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Peter is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes. 

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jaehyun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jaehyun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in. 

Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jaehyun had imagined. 

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them. 

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Younghoon affirms, glancing at Jaehyun as if expecting him to say something, but Jaehyun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Younghoon says to cover Jaehyun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.” 

“Yes.” You respond simply. 

“If I may, where is Prince Peter? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Younghoon.” Then you pause. Jaehyun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Peter had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.” 

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Younghoon says in an even but skeptical tone. 

"Yes, Prince Peter is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Peter's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jaehyun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jaehyun suspects that Prince Peter has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jaehyun suspects something different. Prince Peter must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in. 

Younghoon clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Seth, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jaehyun and Younghoon stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jaehyun barely hears it.

Younghoon tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jaehyun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jaehyun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon with steady eyes. “Lord Seth was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jaehyun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.  

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jaehyun and Younghoon can even comprehend what you just said.

 ***

Jaehyun waits for you and Younghoon in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought. 

Jaehyun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jaehyun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained. 

Jaehyun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jaehyun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jaehyun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Seth’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jaehyun wonders if Lord Seth was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands. 

But then when Jaehyun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jaehyun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.  

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jaehyun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jaehyun’s attention your presence in the stables. 

 Jaehyun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.” 

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jaehyun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jaehyun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.” 

Jaehyun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jaehyun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.  

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear. 

“Lord Jaehyun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jaehyun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jaehyun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jaehyun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.” 

Jaehyun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jaehyun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy. 

Jaehyun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder. 

“We’re ready when you are Jaehyun,” Younghoon says, a laugh dancing under his words. 

Jaehyun groans. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Younghoon releases Jaehyun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod. 

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jaehyun questions, hurt that Younghoon seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?” 

Younghoon’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jaehyun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jaehyun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.” 

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Younghoon chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jaehyun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jaehyun is silent, taking his time to understand what Younghoon means. He returns his attention to his horse. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jaehyun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Younghoon isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation. 

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Orindell. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?” 

Younghoon hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Orindell,” Younghoon clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jaehyun nods, listening half-heartedly to Younghoon for Jaehyun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles. 

Eventually, Younghoon wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Younghoon can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jaehyun, Captain Younghoon, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south. 

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Younghoon and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge. 

The Zalazar River is now a blood red color. Younghoon comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites. 

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly. 

“What?” You breathe, and Jaehyun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.   

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Younghoon chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.” 

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and blood red river a little less tensely. 

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jaehyun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you. Jaehyun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel bad. It’s been so long since you’ve left the King’s City, that you’ve forgotten how the people outside the Golden Palace react to you. You have forgotten that most people don’t want to eat dinner and play drinking games with a Gift of the Spirit near. You make a mental note to cover up more next time you’re out. Then after a quick glance at the innkeeper behind the bar, you make another note to reimburse her for the money she must’ve lost thanks to you.  

You’re aware of the way Jaehyun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jaehyun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jaehyun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace. 

You exhale sharply. 

“Lord Jaehyun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Younghoon, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jaehyun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.” 

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon nearly begging for their acceptance. 

“I have a question,” Younghoon begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.” 

“Oh, the bird. It’s my personal Risal.” You say simply. You aren’t surprised to see the shock on their faces. Risals were extremely rare and even more expensive. They’re said to have been blessed by the Gods as messenger birds. That of course is the only explanation for how Risals are able to send any message anywhere and to anyone in no more than a day even if the one sending the message does not know where to find the one receiving. 

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Younghoon exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets. 

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother, Roe.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jaehyun notices. 

“Are they as untraceable as they say?” 

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.” 

“You’re very lucky.” Younghoon tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jaehyun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long. 

“I have a question.” Lord Jaehyun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Younghoon looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice. 

“Jaehyun—“ Younghoon starts. 

“How do you mean?” You encourage him to continue. You know what he wants to hear. He wants to hear how you’re a killer by nature. He wants you to explain just how deadly you are. He wants you to prove his distrust. 

“What are your powers, Gift?” 

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make. 

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jaehyun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jaehyun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.” 

Lord Jaehyun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?” 

“No.” 

“So you can die?” 

“Yes.” 

“By old age?” 

“No.” 

“Then how?” 

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further. 

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jaehyun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much. 

--LORD JAEHYUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jaehyun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected. 

You request to be taken straight to your quarters. 

“You’re acting strange.” Younghoon mutters, watching Jaehyun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jaehyun and Younghoon at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend. 

“How so?” Jaehyun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl. 

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate earlier.” 

“It’s not just that Jaehyun.” Younghoon adds, and Jaehyun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jaehyun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Younghoon sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.” 

Jaehyun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Younghoon. Something about her unsettles me.” 

Younghoon takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.” 

Jaehyun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.” 

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.” 

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Younghoon.” 

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?” 

Jaehyun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Younghoon shakes his head in frustration. “Jaehyun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.” 

And with that Younghoon leaves from the dining room. Jaehyun finishes the rest of his dinner alone. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jaehyun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch. 

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jaehyun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.” 

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jaehyun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Younghoon put him up to it. 

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.” 

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jaehyun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path. 

“Lord Jaehyun.” 

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence. 

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jaehyun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet. 

“Younghoon gave me a very thorough tour this morning.” 

Jaehyun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Younghoon is not the type to spare any details.” 

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jaehyun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile. 

“Lord Jaehyun,” you address softly, “did Younghoon put you up to this?” 

He chuckles, and instead of answering your question, he says: “Lady Gift, I would like to apologize for how I treated you these past couple days. I am not used to the happenings of the Golden Palace. I was shocked. But that’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jaehyun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it. 

“Thank you, Lord Jaehyun.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.” 

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.” 

Jaehyun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?” 

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.” 

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jaehyun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly. 

You find yourself to be smiling too. 

“Come on,” Jaehyun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.” 

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jaehyun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you. 

Jaehyun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed. 

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Roen was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing. 

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?” 

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.” 

Jaehyun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.” 

“Oh Jaehyun, we have already bargained and made peace.” 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.” 

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease. 

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious. 

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.” 

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.” 

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Roen that night. 

Dear Roen, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jaehyun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jaehyun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest. 

“Younghoon,” Jaehyun calls out. Younghoon tends to keep Jaehyun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jaehyun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Younghoon fast asleep. Jaehyun covers Younghoon with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done. 

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jaehyun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known. 

“Have you already finished your work Jaehyun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering. 

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal. 

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.” 

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jaehyun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm. 

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.” 

Jaehyun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jaehyun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jaehyun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Younghoon. 

“How do they work?” Jaehyun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?” 

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jaehyun to stand up as well. 

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.” 

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jaehyun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jaehyun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds. 

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.” 

Jaehyun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jaehyun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jaehyun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jaehyun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock. 

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.” 

Jaehyun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales. 

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.” 

And Jaehyun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jaehyun runs to you immediately.  

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jaehyun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard. 

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jaehyun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jaehyun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain. 

“So,” Jaehyun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug. 

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?” 

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jaehyun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.” 

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Orindell misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Younghoon and Lord Jaehyun. -Roen 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

“The service was long today.” Jaehyun states exiting the temple with Younghoon and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars. 

“I didn’t think so.” Younghoon says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?” 

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still. 

 “Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving. 

Jaehyun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jaehyun and Younghoon can stop you. 

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jaehyun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jaehyun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble. 

The sanctuary Jaehyun, Younghoon, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jaehyun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jaehyun sick to the stomach. 

But that’s not where Jaehyun finds you. Instead, Jaehyun and Younghoon find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jaehyun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jaehyun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jaehyun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries. 

Jaehyun and Younghoon decide to wait for you outside. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Younghoon asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Younghoon were present today. 

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Juyeon and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.” 

Younghoon nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Younghoon’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?” 

“I don’t—“ 

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Younghoon.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?” 

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.” 

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Younghoon go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.  

It’s also the day that Younghoon reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Younghoon’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jaehyun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jaehyun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Younghoon laughs loudly and explains that Jaehyun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Younghoon’s job. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Younghoon to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jaehyun wave goodbye to Younghoon.

Jaehyun scoffs, side eyeing Younghoon’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.” 

You laugh, and Jaehyun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”   

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jaehyun if anything more is needed. Jaehyun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jaehyun notices how you notice. 

And when the servant girl leaves, Jaehyun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach. 

“Vina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.” 

Jaehyun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words. 

“Smile less.” 

Jaehyun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.” 

Jaehyun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind. 

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.” 

“You could braid it.” Jaehyun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?” 

Jaehyun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin. 

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jaehyun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard. 

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” 

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jaehyun’s offer is genuine or not. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.” 

Jaehyun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it. 

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind. 

“My sister, Insia, would make me braid her hair sometimes.” 

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

“She’s illegitime. Technically, we both are. My father never married.” 

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jaehyun finishes the braid off. 

“She married an islander, gave up her ladyship to do so, and now lives there with him.” Jaehyun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Insia and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jaehyun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently. 

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.” 

And Jaehyun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jaehyun, but today Jaehyun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Peter and his impossible journey, to Juyeon and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Seth. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jaehyun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks. 

So when Vina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Vina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction. 

When you ask why Vina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Vina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jaehyun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Vina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little. 

“Vina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jaehyun?” 

Vina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jaehyun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Vina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.” 

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jaehyun is.” 

An embarrassed smile emerges on Vina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.” 

You erupt in laughter. 

***

If you knew Vina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jaehyun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jaehyun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly. 

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow. 

To your dismay, Jaehyun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jaehyun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jaehyun himself, your wish is granted. 

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it. 

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jaehyun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile. 

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jaehyun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?” 

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?” 

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to. 

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jaehyun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.” 

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jaehyun’s face. “What was that?” 

A giggling Jaehyun cowers behind the target and runs. 

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Peter being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Seth’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories.  It appears that the fog is driving you mad. 

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Roen you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Orindell didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside Roe, their mother and your dearest friend, and when Roe passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Orindell could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Orindell, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Roen and Peter. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Orindell loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.   

You decide that thinking will only lead to misery tonight, and with a glance at the full moon outside your window, you also decide a walk must be better than lying here, drowning in your own thoughts. You pull on a pair slippers before silently exiting your room. 

The beach is quiet tonight. The waves tease and kiss the shore and then disappear back into the sea. While you walk, you think about all the ways the sea has shown itself to you. You only realize how far you’ve walked when you reach the rocks. 

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jaehyun’s estate by Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Vina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself. 

The waves don’t seem larger here, but they crash against the rocks as if they are. The waves and the rocks clash like two forces in battle. Somehow the image and the sound bring a bit of comfort to the battle raging in your mind. 

Where you stand, the rocks are scattered, but further along the beach, the rocks multiply and gather until they completely cover the sand. The rocks start flat and then pile on top of each other until you’re staring at the rocky cliffs you have heard so much about. You think you like this rocky beach more than the sandy one you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You stiffen when you notice a figure sitting on one of the flat rocks. The person looks tired in the way they sit with their shoulders dropped and dragging, and yet the person is so captivated by the sea they don’t even notice you coming. Upon closer examination, you realize that you recognize the figure sitting alone on the rocks. Your guard drops when you realize the person is Jaehyun. 

“Jaehyun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?” 

He shakes his head. “Younghoon calls this spot the insomniac's bed.” 

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly. 

You wait for Jaehyun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.” 

“Yes, but what about this cliff?” 

Jaehyun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.” 

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.” 

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further. 

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years. 

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Avi died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured. 

You study Jaehyun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jaehyun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jaehyun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jaehyun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jaehyun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Peter,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.” 

And with the way Jaehyun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him. 

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jaehyun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.” 

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?” 

“Depends.” 

Jaehyun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jaehyun.” 

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jaehyun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways. 

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.” 

“So then why don’t you?” 

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jaehyun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old. 

“Good night, Jaehyun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.” 

*** 

Dear Roen, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Peter too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Orindell that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jaehyun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jaehyun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it. 

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.” 

“Oh,” Jaehyun says softly. 

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.” 

“Six?” Jaehyun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.” 

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jaehyun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.” 

You squint at him. 

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?” 

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.” 

It was Jaehyun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.” 

Jaehyun starts pulling his shoes off. 

“Well,” Jaehyun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jaehyun nods, and 

you run. 

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jaehyun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jaehyun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jaehyun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it. 

Jaehyun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jaehyun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you. 

When you finally reach the top, Jaehyun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist. 

Jaehyun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jaehyun back. Insia used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jaehyun had convinced himself he was. Jaehyun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jaehyun would spend years staring at the blue water. 

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jaehyun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jaehyun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you. 

You meet his eyes, and Jaehyun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries. 

Jaehyun hesitates. 

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?” 

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jaehyun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jaehyun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jaehyun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jaehyun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling. 

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Sunwoo, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.” 

Jaehyun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jaehyun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude. 

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold. 

“Forgive me if I intruded.” 

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.” 

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?” 

“Usually.” You tell him with a small pout. Then after a pause you add: “When I think about the past, there’s this fog, and that fog makes remembering painful. In fact the headache I had the morning we first met was caused by trying to remember something the night before. But right now, the fog in my mind isn’t so thick; right now, I’m not struggling to remember.” 

Jaehyun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jaehyun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jaehyun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jaehyun wants to know. 

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do. 

You tell Jaehyun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen Raffa who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Sunwoo and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself. 

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jaehyun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.  

“Where’d they take you?” 

You halt at Jaehyun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.” 

Jaehyun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have. 

“Did you get to see your family again?” 

You shake your head. “My mother fought and died in the Holy Wars. I saw my father once, after it was all over, but he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with the person who was on the side of the war his wife died fighting against.” 

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jaehyun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jaehyun to even hear. 

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Sunwoo and later Avi too.” You tell Jaehyun with a smile. “By the time Sunwoo and I became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. Raffa went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Sunwoo and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “Raffa was killed.”

Jaehyun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Avi, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Sunwoo much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue. 

“Is that why you switched sides?” 

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Sunwoo had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Avi struck me a deal. Avi said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Sunwoo.”

You stop to breathe. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jaehyun thinks it’s wrong, what King Avi did. Jaehyun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jaehyun’s thinking. 

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Avi wasn’t much older than me. Avi watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Avi was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 13. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Sunwoo take his dying breath.” 

Through the memories you share with him, Jaehyun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jaehyun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war. 

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jaehyun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.” 

Jaehyun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know? 

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jaehyun can’t trust himself to look at you. 

You’re quiet. 

“I regret it all.” 

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jaehyun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret. 

The small part of Jaehyun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jaehyun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him. 

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jaehyun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 13 when this all happened. 

“Fortitude,” Jaehyun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.” 

Jaehyun can see something in you come apart. Jaehyun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes. 

And when Jaehyun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jaehyun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current. 

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jaehyun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?” 

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jaehyun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.” 

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jaehyun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Avi didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

Jaehyun halts. “It was King Avi?” He questions in disbelief, remembering the mysterious burnings of all the libraries in the kingdom except for the one residing in the Golden Palace. “King Avi was the one who set fires to the libraries?”

“Oh, right,” you sigh, “I forgot that was a secret.” And in the next moment, you’re nearly laughing. “You know Jaehyun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.”

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jaehyun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jaehyun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jaehyun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind. 

“Sunwoo?” 

Jaehyun nods, and you look up to the sky. 

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jaehyun tastes the salt on his lips. 

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jaehyun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner. 

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Vina brings out plates with your meals. 

“I am, thank you Jaehyun.” You take a bite of your food. 

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?” 

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jaehyun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”  

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jaehyun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after. 

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jaehyun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.   

“Jaehyun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jaehyun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.” 

Jaehyun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“That’s alright Jaehyun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.” 

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jaehyun watches you go. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Younghoon finally returns to Jaehyun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Vina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you. 

Later that day, you and Younghoon ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery. 

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Younghoon’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jaehyun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh. 

“He tends to get very…” Younghoon trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.” 

“Thank you, Younghoon.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“I heard you were close to Jaehyun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jaehyun I worry about.” 

“And who’s here to worry about you?” 

Younghoon sighs. “Thank you for the concern.” 

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Younghoon spends the entire day in his room and Jaehyun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too. 

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Roen. 

“Come in.” 

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.” 

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jaehyun and Captain Younghoon.” 

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Vina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Vina. “Lord Jaehyun requested that you attend the service as well.” 

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted. 

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jaehyun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Younghoon. 

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jaehyun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jaehyun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you” 

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”     

Jaehyun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Younghoon appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Vina, head to the temple in a solemn silence. 

The temple is a sea of red. Younghoon whispers to you that Jaehyun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service. 

You watch the fire rage. It was tradition to light fires for the dead. Years ago, fires were only lit 30 days after the death itself, but somewhere along the line, it had been normalized to light fires on the death anniversaries as well. The fire the temple has lit tonight burns bright and tall, as tall as the temple itself. The air around the temple is more smoke and flames than oxygen. You almost feel as if you’re suffocating, not from the smoke, but from the strife of an entire town which burns in the fire and contaminates the air. You choke on the sadness saturating your lungs and lingering in your veins. Your heart empties in tune with the mourning of the people for their beloved Lord. 

You inhale. 

You watch as Jaehyun and Younghoon throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Vina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone. 

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jaehyun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jaehyun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break. 

It dawns on you then that the people are throwing in the love they can’t give as much as they’re throwing in their sadness for the loss. You learn that the fire before you doesn’t just rage, but that it cries and laughs as well. You learn that the wild warmth is more than just a fire; it’s an image of their love and loss. 

Jaehyun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jaehyun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so. 

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother, Roe. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Orindell had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Peter and Roen were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears. 

Before Roe, the last funeral you can remember attending was Avi’s, the young king who understood your grief and more importantly your guilt. But unlike the princes’ mother, who left an entire family behind, Avi had no living relatives. At his funeral, not a single log was thrown. For so long it had been you and Avi against the world, so when Avi died, it left you feeling inexplicably alone. 

You had burned a fire for Avi, and you had burned a fire Roe. But you never even lit a match for Sunwoo; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father. 

Jaehyun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the Roe, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Avi, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Sunwoo who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Seth and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn. 

You forget Jaehyun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Peter, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Peter. 

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Younghoon came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jaehyun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Younghoon’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jaehyun’s absence like a gaping hole, you feel it greatly. 

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud. 

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down. 

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Peter received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment. 

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries. 

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Younghoon’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jaehyun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Younghoon and Lord Jaehyun the truth; the truth you owe them. 

“Did Peter respond to your Risal?” Jaehyun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no. 

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jaehyun and Younghoon share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Peter was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run. 

You recall to Jaehyun and Younghoon the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Peter came to you sad and betrayed and alone. 

“This isn’t right,” Peter muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Peter had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Roen joined these meetings. Then Orindell did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Peter sat with you. Roen was on a northern campaign, and Orindell travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless. 

“He can’t do this,” Peter had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.” 

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down. 

“Prince Peter, what are you suggesting?” 

He huffed and shook his head. You had thought he looked wild and angry and unhinged. “He’s set himself on a course to drive this kingdom into the dirt. Father hasn’t been himself for some time now. Something is wrong. Something that we can’t see. And the longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Peter,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea. 

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Peter slammed his hand down on the table. 

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Peter’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?” 

He sighed. “I’ve already decided. He has to be stopped.” He paused, looking at you with eyes that reminded you of the days he and his brothers would run around the palace courtyard. Your heart ached at the memory. “I want you to help me. But I’ll do this without your help too.”

And so you started planning Peter’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father. 

“We kept it a secret, Peter and I,” you continue. Jaehyun and Younghoon listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Juyeon. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Peter so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Peter and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Peter and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad. 

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Peter. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Peter got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Peter came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King. 

It’s Younghoon who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Peter?” 

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.” 

Jaehyun chokes on his water. 

You continue on with the story, unbothered. 

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Peter go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Seth with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Seth was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jaehyun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Seth was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—” 

You break. No, you don’t just break. You shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve made yourself feel the shame of your crimes. But now looking straight into the eyes of the sins you’ve committed. You crack and break and shatter into a million pieces. Each of your infinite shards tainted with a cruel shade of guilt. 

Jaehyun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength. 

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold. 

“So that’s why Peter was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Younghoon and Jaehyun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget. 

It’s Younghoon who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Roen and Prince Orindell the truth too.” 

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.” 

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jaehyun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Peter to the Nomads?”

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Juyeon, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jaehyun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jaehyun asks, you know. 

“The Nomads weren’t always as they are now. They weren’t as hostile or private. That night, I remembered that the Nomads were known to be bridges between Humans and the Elders. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands in the hopes that they’d share with him the knowledge of the Elders.” 

Jaehyun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Avi and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones. 

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Peter to them? 

The dinner ends abruptly when Younghoon stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jaehyun do the same soon after. 

You write to Roen that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Peter, the experiments, Lord Seth, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Roen to extend this information to Orindell as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers. 

The response from Roen comes a few days later. 

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Seth. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Orindell and I, we already knew. Peter told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Roen 

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Orindell around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Peter. And setting silly traps for Roen. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Peter told them the truth. And you’re glad he did. 

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair.  Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jaehyun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not. 

“It must be hard,” you say as Jaehyun sections your hair into three parts, “for Younghoon to spend so much time away from his family.” 

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck. 

“Yes, it must.” 

The next day Jaehyun tells Younghoon to go back home. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Younghoon laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely. 

“Go home, Younghoon.” Jaehyun insists. “Paid leave.” 

Younghoon packs up his things that very night. 

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Roen, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Peter. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Younghoon left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jaehyun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Younghoon everything. Jaehyun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof. 

He hates the quiet. 

“Lord Jaehyun! Come quick!” Vina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jaehyun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, “I think she plans to jump.” 

Jaehyun runs. 

He runs past Vina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs. 

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jaehyun’s heart stops. 

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jaehyun and Vina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.” 

“Lady Gift!” Vina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“ 

Jaehyun puts a hand on Vina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop. 

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jaehyun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?” 

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond. 

Jaehyun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.” 

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Vina stiffen beside him. 

“Lord Jaehyun, what are you doing?” Vina asks frantically. 

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean. 

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong. 

“Jaehyun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not. 

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear. 

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.” 

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed. 

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.” 

You smirk. Then disappear from Jaehyun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump. 

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall. 

Jaehyun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jaehyun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jaehyun watches. Amazed. 

It’s when Vina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water. 

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath. 

And dives. 

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jaehyun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up. 

But Jaehyun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Vina pulls you both out of the water. And Jaehyun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jaehyun falls into the sand beside you. 

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Vina says scurrying away in the sand. 

Jaehyun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted. 

“It looked like you were dying,” Jaehyun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?” 

“I don’t want to die, Jaehyun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then what?” 

“I wanted to feel mortal.” 

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.” 

Jaehyun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.” 

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jaehyun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jaehyun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry. 

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jaehyun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jaehyun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not. 

Jaehyun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish. 

Jaehyun extends everything he knows to you. 

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jaehyun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jaehyun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jaehyun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time. 

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jaehyun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean. 

***

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jaehyun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Younghoon asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.” 

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.” 

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display. 

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.” 

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “How so?” 

You hesitate, looking at Jaehyun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.” 

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jaehyun feels suddenly warm. 

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.” 

“Is it?” 

Jaehyun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jaehyun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jaehyun. 

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?” 

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Avi died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…” 

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end. 

This time the tapping comes from Jaehyun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?” 

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jaehyun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Avi died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jaehyun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face. 

“I remember the fire that was lit for Avi, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met Roe.”

You pause, and in the silence Jaehyun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat. 

“I’m scared, Jaehyun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jaehyun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Younghoon, Juyeon, Peter, Roen, Orindell; hell even Vina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jaehyun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn. 

“Oh how happy Younghoon will be to hear all this.” 

Jaehyun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.” 

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away. 

“And Jaehyun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.” 

Jaehyun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning. 

***

Jaehyun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive. 

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other. 

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Jaehyun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Juyeon?” Jaehyun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jaehyun are sitting in the courtyard. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap. 

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?” 

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jaehyun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly. 

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want. 

You read and then reread the letter from Orindell. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jaehyun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Orindell, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Orindell never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Orindell; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Orindell climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince. 

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Orindell is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.  

“Is something wrong?” Jaehyun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Orindell’s heart in your bags.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back. 

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Orindell then?” The question sounds hopeful. 

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Orindell is like a child to me.” 

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jaehyun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?” 

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Orindell since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Younghoon by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Orindell still acts like a child.” Jaehyun smiles at that. 

“Oddly enough,” Jaehyun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.” 

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Orindell’s apology. Something in your mind clicks. 

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Orindell. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Orindell can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jaehyun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jaehyun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.” 

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Orindell, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jaehyun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.” 

You repeat it in your mind. 

He doesn’t want to lose you either. 

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Orindell’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Orindell feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Orindell must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself. 

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept. 

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms. 

***

That night you send a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Orindell. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Orindell. 

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Insia?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jaehyun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.” 

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Actually,” Jaehyun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?” 

***

The boat ride to the island Insia lives on is pleasant. Jaehyun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Insia, and you listen to Jaehyun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jaehyun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Insia’s children and then some more for yourselves. 

By late afternoon they reach Insia and her husband Cyrin’s house. Jaehyun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters. 

“Hold on,” Jaehyun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.” 

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible. 

The sea. 

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jaehyun feels at home despite being hours away from it. 

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jaehyun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jaehyun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more. 

“Uncle Jaehyun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jaehyun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug. 

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jaehyun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jaehyun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.” 

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jaehyun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand. 

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jaehyun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jaehyun clutches his stomach in laughter. 

“Jaehyun!” Insia yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!” 

“You’re torturing them Insia!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.” 

Insia scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jaehyun into a hug.

Jaehyun leads Insia to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Insia resposds that she’s napping and that Cyrin’s watching her. 

You stand up to greet Insia. 

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.” 

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.” 

“Well, in that case,” Insia coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jaehyun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.” 

***

Insia, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Insia begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jaehyun and Cyrin are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Cyrin puts up the cards while Jaehyun watches you and Insia converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jaehyun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably. 

“Jaehyun, you must stay here longer.” Cyrin insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.” 

Jaehyun hesitates. “I don’t know. Younghoon is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.” 

“Oh please,” Insia dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Younghoon sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.” 

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jaehyun. I had no idea.” Jaehyun dismisses the apology.                     

Cyrin and Insia share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Insia scoffs, turning dramatically to you. 

“Would you mind humouring Cyrin with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jaehyun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Younghoon and you went. Jaehyun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing. 

“I’m no joke.” Cyrin defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.” 

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Cyrin takes it eagerly. 

Jaehyun likes this. How you tease Cyrin. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence. 

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Cyrin yelps in shock, and Insia hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jaehyun, and the two of you share a look of your own. 

And through the silent conversation, Jaehyun knows. Younghoon would have to wait a bit longer for your return. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Younghoon telling him that you and Jaehyun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jaehyun I said happy birthday. You do. 

Later that day, Insia requests you and Jaehyun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night. 

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jaehyun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand. 

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once. 

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jaehyun. Jaehyun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb. 

But then Jaehyun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue. 

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jaehyun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jaehyun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Insia and Cyrin seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jaehyun happy as well. 

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jaehyun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Insia’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jaehyun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat. 

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.” 

“Here.” Jaehyun hands you the extra coat. 

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?” 

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.” 

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time. 

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jaehyun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.” 

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jaehyun not telling you was an insult. Jaehyun positions himself closer. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible. 

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jaehyun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Insia and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jaehyun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jaehyun comes to realize that what you tell him  now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jaehyun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to. 

He stares at you, frozen. And Jaehyun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Sunwoo, Avi, your parents, Roe. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured. 

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Younghoon, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.” 

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jaehyun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips. 

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jaehyun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do. 

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jaehyun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him.  

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jaehyun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jaehyun’s restless heart. 

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jaehyun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”   

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jaehyun’s coat. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jaehyun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jaehyun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further. 

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jaehyun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Insia announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jaehyun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Insia who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed. 

“How about this?” Insia offers holding up a red dress. 

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?” 

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.” 

“And why would I want to do that?” 

“For Jaehyun.” Insia says it blandly. 

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jaehyun?” You echo. 

“Nevermind then,” Insia sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jaehyun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Insia leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jaehyun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jaehyun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness. 

The bodice of the dress Insia brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways. 

Insia was right. Jaehyun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?” 

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Insia lent it to me for the night.” 

“Ah,” Jaehyun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jaehyun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jaehyun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t? 

The dinner is a feast like Insia had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jaehyun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jaehyun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jaehyun follow you out. 

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up. 

“Please, Jaehyun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back. 

“No. Tell me what’s happened.” 

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.” 

You push your door open, and Jaehyun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jaehyun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jaehyun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near. 

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Insia’s red dress in your hands. 

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jaehyun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound. 

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.” 

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of. 

Jaehyun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jaehyun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jaehyun’s voice. 

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.” 

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jaehyun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jaehyun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love. 

You fling your hand out of Jaehyun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jaehyun. 

And suddenly, Jaehyun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jaehyun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently. 

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jaehyun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder. 

“Leave me be, Jaehyun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jaehyun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jaehyun shuts the door quietly. 

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jaehyun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well. 

*** 

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head. 

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jaehyun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops. 

Dear Jaehyun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either.  But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please.  -Jaehyun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Avi. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jaehyun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind. 

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jaehyun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him. 

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jaehyun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jaehyun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jaehyun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jaehyun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jaehyun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body. 

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jaehyun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jaehyun again, really look at Jaehyun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jaehyun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jaehyun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do. 

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jaehyun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything. 

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jaehyun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now. 

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jaehyun’s face.  

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jaehyun. 

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips. 

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?” 

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.” 

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jaehyun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home. 

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jaehyun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Younghoon. He nods, turning to you. 

“And how about you, what do you miss?” 

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jaehyun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jaehyun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jaehyun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jaehyun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water. 

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jaehyun counts the seconds.  One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four. 

Five. (He kisses you) Six. 

You return to the estate finally, greeting Younghoon drenched and swollen with love. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jaehyun return from Insia and Cyrin’s home that you and Younghoon fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jaehyun. And when you told Younghoon at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well. 

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jaehyun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Younghoon attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Younghoon is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Younghoon would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Younghoon gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Younghoon in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Younghoon for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jaehyun to watch. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jaehyun. Jaehyun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Younghoon catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves. 

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jaehyun must do work in his office, Younghoon and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Roen and Orindell and another unanswered one to Peter. 

You and Younghoon continue training without Jaehyun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jaehyun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jaehyun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Younghoon, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight. 

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Vina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jaehyun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy. 

The happiest you look, however, is when Vina asks you to teach her something. You make Vina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jaehyun mentions this, you deny it telling Jaehyun it’s only because you taught Juyeon and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Vina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jaehyun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jaehyun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jaehyun has never been so happy. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Orindell. 

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Roen and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Roen fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Peter soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Peter as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Juyeon and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jaehyun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Juyeon a punch for me. - Orindell 

You think a visit from Juyeon might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Younghoon and Jaehyun. 

***

You’re in the kitchen with Vina eating fruit when Juyeon arrives. 

“He’s here.” Jaehyun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jaehyun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods. 

So you grab his hand and run. 

The first thing you do when you see Juyeon is punch him, as hard as Orindell would. 

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?” 

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Orindell.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.” 

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Younghoon have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Juyeon some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

Juyeon sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.” 

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.” 

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Juyeon says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Orindell told me you two made peace.” 

“We did.” You hum with a smile. 

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Juyeon tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jaehyun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jaehyun, Younghoon, Vina, Insia, Cyrin, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Juyeon the specifics. 

Juyeon listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jaehyun?” 

Your mouth drops, and you look at Juyeon shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.” 

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.” 

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Juyeon happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Juyeon.” 

He stops in his tracks. “Really?” 

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Younghoon and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response. 

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.” 

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Juyeon jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight. 

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Juyeon laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jaehyun, Younghoon, mina, the guards, Juyeon’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Juyeon, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Juyeon is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Juyeon will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Younghoon, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything. 

You circle each other for a second, and when Juyeon does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Juyeon is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Juyeon is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Juyeon the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back. 

“Surrender.” You pant. 

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.” 

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Juyeon all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Seth’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.  

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Peter the night before he left?” 

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Peter that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh. 

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember. 

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?” 

“Peter told Roen and Orindell before he left. Orindell told me. We all had questions for you. But Roen was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Orindell weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?” 

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jaehyun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Peter that night?”

You look at Jaehyun. Then Younghoon. Then Juyeon; he nods. All three watch you carefully. 

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin” 

Jaehyun and Younghoon look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel. 

Juyeon starts laughing at the madness of it all. 

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Avi, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Peter.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Younghoon, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Peter. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Peter find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Juyeon have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings. 

“What is that?” 

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.” 

“No, no. It’s a drawing.” 

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.” 

The three boys share a look. 

“What do you mean you think?” 

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?” 

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Peter.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Peter will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky. 

Juyeon shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jaehyun. Weaker than after your fight with Juyeon. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory. 

You fall to your knees, Jaehyun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Younghoon who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jaehyun’s voice in your ear. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jaehyun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jaehyun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jaehyun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Vina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jaehyun. But last night was nothing like what Jaehyun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jaehyun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jaehyun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jaehyun tries to think of something else. 

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jaehyun asks if you’re feeling any better. 

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed. 

Jaehyun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Peter?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jaehyun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away. 

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jaehyun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jaehyun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Peter, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently. 

Dear Fortitude,  Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near.  -Peter

“What’s it say?” Jaehyun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself. 

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.” 

“Jaehyun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds. 

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.” 

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?” 

“I hate to say it, but you—“ 

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.” 

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Peter’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Juyeon’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Peter castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jaehyun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea. 

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jaehyun. 

But you pack your bags instead, send Peter a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jaehyun and Younghoon that night. You and Juyeon would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jaehyun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again. 

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Juyeon’s squadron and needing to catch up to you. 

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jaehyun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jaehyun realize he’s crying. Juyeon leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy. 

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.” 

“All the more reason not to, Jaehyun.” 

He squeezes his arms around you. 

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely. 

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks. 

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—” 

“Tell me something to make me hate you.” 

“—I can’t.” 

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.” 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jaehyun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jaehyun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other. 

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.” 

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jaehyun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over. 

“I’ll come back, Jaehyun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.” 

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.” 

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jaehyun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i feel a little odd and scared to be reposting this piece... again. but i’ve been flirting with the idea of reposting it for tbz for too long for me to not lol. also i didn’t edit or proofread this very thoroughly so if the names got mixed up somewhere within this monster then thats why my bad

#the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenarios #the boyz x reader #hyunjae x reader #lee jaehyun scenarios #lee jaehyun x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae angst #hyunjae fluff #tbz scenarios #mine #the sea is yours to take

[the-firebender-girl]

The Dragon’s Mark (Zuko x Reader)

-> In which Y/N has no idea that she’s being courted.

Part II : The Dragon’s Bride

Zan (簪) is mainly used to fasten and tie hair up into a bun but it also has decorative and symbolic purposes. Wearing a zan is considered as a symbol of one’s dignity. The more rare the materials, the higher the social status of its wearer. The head of the hairpin is usually decorated with motifs of flowers or lucky animals. Dragon and phoenix motifs are reserved exclusively for the use of royal family.

A new world. One filled with peace, openness, and equality. That’s the reality that she lives in right now and she couldn’t be happier. Y/N was born and bred in Agna Qel’a, the capital of Northern Water Tribe. Although her and the rest of their people lived their lives peacefully in isolation behind high walls of ice that protects them from the ongoing war and making them untouchable to the horrors of destruction that has befallen soo many others including their sister tribe, she always wonders what she would find in the unknown world outside if she has the courage to do so. But all her life, she was forced to go by the ‘ignorance is bliss’ code. Especially since her father is a member of the chief’s Council of Elders.

The people of the Northern Water Tribe are traditionally conservative. Women can’t really hold prominent position of power nor can they participate in activities that is considered more of a man’s job such as fighting, thus why their women waterbenders are only taught to heal but never to defend. Women also become marriageable at the age of 16 and some of those marriages are arranged, with the bride in particular having no say in the matter. That’s the sombering reality of it, and Y/N had enough of these extremely sexist views and patriarchal ways of living.

But the arrival of the Avatar and the siblings from Southern Water Tribe changed it all, they’re like her salvation, a way out of this gilded cage of false sense of security. Too long has their people looked the other way while the rest of the world needs them. When the match between the girl called Katara and Master Pakku occurred, she was in audience. Bewitched by Katara’s strong-mindedness, how she kept on fighting despite having minimum experience against a master bender, still she gave it her all and that’s what matters. That’s when Y/N decided that this is the kind of person that she’ll proudly stand by, and thus why she decided to join the Gaang, thankfully they accepted her and welcomed her into the fold.

That felt like a lifetime ago, and now she serves as her tribe’s diplomatic representative in Fire Lord Zuko’s newly reformed court. Much has changed since the Hundred Year War came to an end, especially regarding the shift in societal’s view of women. Chief Arnook decided that she’s the best person for this job since she’s his best advisor’s daughter plus she’s already a close friend of the Gaang. After all the things that they’ve been through together, seeing eye to eye shouldn’t be that much of a problem right? Y/N is well versed in the customs of her tribe and will without a doubt put her people’s best interest at heart, but she has also seen enough of the world to have a clearer judgement on what is best for everyone. What must be done to heal the world and harmonizing the four nations.

But that is a story for another day.

As for today, Y/N has reached the age of 20, officially a full grown adult. Zuko insisted that a celebration should be in order since she’s one of his closest friends and has been a huge help to him ever since his ascendency. Everytime his hot temper almost got the best of him and ruin whatever agreement was about to form during council, she was there like cool soothing water that pacify his anger away. She has saved his face countless of time, building a fine rap that will define his ruling in history. And for this alone, she deserves all the best that he could offer her, but Y/N being Y/N declined.

“You sure the celebration thing is a no go?” Zuko asked again as he looked her way pointedly, meanwhile Y/N is brushing her hair softly in front of a mirror as it settles around her shoulder in waves.

Y/N let out a content sigh, “I just prefer a slow and easy day, you know? we rarely get to experience those...” She said, sparing him a quick glance. “And the Gaang is coming here anyway, it’s been soo long since we all gather in the same place. That’s more than good enough for me, Fire Lord”

Zuko hums which she took as a sign of agreement but his stare never stray away from her. “Alright if you’re sure, i’m sorry I can’t do anything about today’s council hearing though, it’s your birthday and you shouldn’t be bothered with work but they insist that it can’t be pushed back”

Now it’s her turn to stop concentrating on her hair and look at Zuko through the mirror’s reflection. “It’s fine, Zuko. You don’t have to apologize for anything you know, it’s just one hearing session and we’re done! after that we got the rest of the day to do as we please”

Y/N pointed the end of her hairbrush to him, making him raised an eyebrow, “You need to stop worrying or else you’ll start getting gray hair one of these days”

Zuko scoffed but then let out a rare smile that is reserved for those closest to him only, he let his eyes trail over the lengths of her hair which she’s currently pulling into an updo. A traditional Fire Nation updo nonetheless. Fingers moving expertly as if she has done this her whole life despite the significant difference on hair custom in their respective nations.

“You’re getting really good at that...” Zuko said as he silently gives her an appreciative once-over. “It’s like you’re a natural at this, it took me a long time to got the hang of it. Even Azula can’t do it, she made her handmaidens do all the work for her” His eyes darkening as the memory of his sister briefly flashed through his mind, but he reigned himself right back. Deciding instead to lean his body to one side of the wall, giving himself a better angle of Y/N.

“It’s only fair of me to at least try and learn, I know that hair holds a significant place to your people and disheveled hair is considered as impolite. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” She said as she finished her look with one last twist of hair, making sure it looks perfect.

Zuko is touched by her respond, Y/N owes the Fire Nation nothing, in fact it is them who owes her after all that they had done to the Water Tribes, but still she treats them with utter respect and upholds their value despite being an outsider. She really was made for diplomacy.

“Before we go to the War Room, I have a gift for you” He said as he brought the both of his hands to the front, turns out he was actually holding a box behind him this entire time.

He took a few steps so now he’s standing directly behind her sitting figure, he’s soo close that Y/N can smell the intoxicating scent of his perfume, spicy but earthy. Zuko carefully put the box atop of the desk in front of them and pull the lids open, revealing the content.

Y/N can’t help the gasp that escaped her mouth as her eyes roamed over Zuko’s gift for her. A matching pair of hairpins or as they called it here, a zan. Her eyes took in every detail, starting from the heads of the dragon form with each head being surmounted by a turquoise cabochon, it’s made of gold filigree detail over gilded silver substructures. The manes of the dragons are particularly impressive comprising multiple, overlapping gold wire strands. The pierced, almost honeycomb-like shafts, each of which are of long, tapering form, are of finely worked silver that has been gilded with gold plates.

“Zuko this is....” Y/N is at loss for words, but Zuko is panicking inwardly at the unreadable expression on her face, what with soo many emotions flittering through in short span of time.

“Do you not like it? I could always make another one, I knew I should have asked for your input first but I just want it to be a surprise” Zuko sputtered, words keep on falling out of his mouth in his state of panic, even his voice has turned high pitch.

Y/N resist the urge to laugh out loud at his distress, this is becoming far too entertaining and she’s enjoying it more than she should. Not everyday you get to see the Fire Lord acting this hysterical over something so trivial. It’s adorable, really.

She reaches out slowly so she doesn’t startle him, placing her hand gently on his forearm. This seems to do the trick as he is snapped out of his agitation. “Zuko stop... I love it, I truly do”

His mood did a 180 degree turn as bliss overtook him at the sight of her sincere smile, eyes looking at him fondly. Zuko is mentally doing a celebratory fist pump.

“This is too beautiful, I don’t think I deserve it, it must have cost you a lot”

Zuko frowns at her hesitant tone. “You deserve this more than anyone, Y/N. It’s the least that I could do”

Y/N looks to the side while biting her lips in contemplation. A motion that nearly drove Zuko wild. His not-so-little crush on her is now probably bigger than the size of Sokka’s inflated ego. And that really is huge, people.

When her eyes meets his again, gone was the doubt, now it’s just pure gratefulness. “Well if you insist, then who am I to say no?” She said, completing it with a grin.

Zuko let out a relief sigh and give a huge grin that matches hers. “Now that’s what I like to hear”

“Would you mind giving me a hand? I think it’ll compliment my updo perfectly” Y/N asked, taking Zuko by surprise.

Zuko gulped nervously. “I would love that” He murmured as he’s trying very hard to still his trembling hands.

He reached inside the box and carefully took out one of the hairpin, sliding it into one side of her bun. Y/N enjoys the feeling of his hands on her hair, the soft motion bringing her a sense of peace. After he secured the second hairpin in, Zuko look at her through the mirror, admiring his work.

“It suits you, you look lovely”

Y/N resists the blush that threatens to bloom on her cheeks, opting to tease him instead. “Is this just a compliment or are you trying to flirt with me, Fire Lord Zuko?”

Zuko groans, stammering over his own words. “Oh knock it off! why do you always feel the need to ruin the moment”

“Oh i’m sorry, are we sharing a moment right now? I wasn’t aware” She can’t help but let out a teasing smirk, he’s just too easy to mess with.

“I’m just digging myself a deeper hole, don’t I?”

———————————————————————

Something fishy is definitely going on. Y/N can feel it. Ever since she stepped out of the confines of her bedroom, all eyes were on her. It’s not even a quick stare, she receives a full on stare from every servants and guards that passed by, complete with a small bow or curtsy. Is Zuko playing some sort of prank on her and succesfully got the rest of the palace on board with him too? whatever it is, Y/N intends to find out.

It gets even more bizarre once they reached the War Room. The rest of the advisors and generals stood up as they welcome the Fire Lord’s arrival, that is a customary show of respect of course. But the wide-eyed stares that follow her after was anything but normal. Some of them have an astonished look on their faces, body going stiffer than the looming pillars above. After they have shake themselves out of whatever daze they were in, they gave her a small bow. Now that is definitely odd, why in the name of Tui and La would they ever bow to her? no one ever did. She thought that is something that they consider is below their station. Just wanting to go over things quickly, she gave them all a quick nod back.

Council then is in session, with one of the new general that has been stationed to oversee the Fire Nation Colonies in the Earth Kingdom taking the floor.

———————————————————————

The hearing ended in record time. It only took them about 3 and a half hours compared to the usual duration which could take them all day and well into the early morning hour just to agree on something. Guess there is a first for everything.

As Y/N is busy tidying up the documents and materials that has gone under review earlier, one of the old Fire Nation general approached her.

“Excuse me, My Lady. I would like to congratulate you, may Agni bless you and your union”

Y/N’s face morphed into one of utter confusion, what is this man talking about? is he on something?

She struggles to form a coherent reply, thinking hard on the appropriate response. “Thank you, General. Do you mean to congratulate me for my birthday?” She finally asked.

“Ahh of course, My Lady. And for that too”

Y/N never thought that it’s possible to be this confused, what does ‘and for that too’ means? does it means that that wasn’t what he’s congratulating her for in the first place?

“Ookaay” She said as she drawled out the word. “I’ll be taking my leave now have a good day, General” Which he responded to with a salute and surprise, surprise another bow.

———————————————————————

After she successfully made her escape from the War Room before she has to suffer another absurd confrontation, she made it her life mission to find Zuko and torture the answer out of him. Okay maybe that’s too dramatic, she wouldn’t say torture per se, but yeah you got the point because this is getting ridiculous.

Her quest came to an abrupt stop when a pile of human slammed into her, engulfing her in a massive group hug.

“Happy birthday you beautiful human being” Sokka said while making kissy faces at her to which she can’t help but shudder and scrunch her nose at.

“Yeah Y/N! happy birthday, I can’t believe you are 20 now, you’re officially a part of the old people” Aang said, peering up at her from his awkward position of being mushed between Ty Lee and Katara.

“Uhh thank you... but you guys.. can I have some space now” Y/N said, struggling to maintain her balance.

“Oh yeah sorry about that, Missy. We’re just SOO excited to see you!” Toph said as she abruptly pulled back, accidently knocking the rest of them to the ground with her sheer force.

Y/N grinned widely as she chuckle, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you Toph?” Sokka grumbled from his splayed out position on the floor.

“Ehh guess you’ll never know” Toph said as she stuck her tongue out to him and then give Y/N a wink, to which she reaches out a hand to high five her.

“You guys are the worst” Suki’s voice mumbled out from somewhere underneath the piles of tangled limbs and body.

“Sokka, can you please just get up right now? your butt is right in front of my face, it’s really disturbing” Aang groaned, clearly distressed.

———————————————————————

After the incident they immediately went to the Dining Room because Sokka won’t stop complaining about how he’s on the verge of dying if he’s not fed in the next hour. Suki was so annoyed she nearly knock him out herself with her bare hands.

As the 6 of them sat around the long dining table, the door that leads into the room opened as Zuko comes in with Uncle Iroh in tow.

“Oh now he decided to show his face after pulling a disappearing act” Y/N grumbled mentally, shooting daggers in Zuko’s way.

Zuko head straight for his seat meanwhile Iroh took a turn around the table, greeting everyone, making his way towards Y/N last.

“Happy birthday, dear one” Uncle Iroh said warmly as he put his hands on her shoulder in a comforting manner. This brings a smile on Y/N’s face, Iroh is definitely one of her favorite person, you could never tell he was a former battle harden war general due to his welcoming and gentle nature.

“Thank you very much, Iroh” She replied, looking at him gratefully.

He was just about to head towards his seat when something about her appearance caught his eyes. There it is again, that same shocked look that she has received plenty all day long. Iroh threw a knowing smile her way, making her stare back at him dumbly.

Iroh then leaned down so that his face is align with her ear and said in a low voice, “So my nephew has finally grown a pair and pop the question, huh?” He asked excitedly, well it sounds more like a rhetoric question anyway.

Y/N can feel her eyes widening, Zuko didn’t ask her anything, what is he implying?

She glanced to where Zuko is sitting just to find him already looking her way, he looks uneasy watching the exchange between her and his uncle. Eyes flittering back and forth between their forms.

Before she could get any reply out, Zuko gave a signal to the waiter standing nearby and then the Dining Room door opened for the second time. This time bringing in the presence of several servants who are carrying various plates with all kind of dishes imaginable. To her delight, some of it are even Water Tribes cuisine such as sea prune stew and seaweed noodles to name a few. Y/N can feel her own mouth watering at both the sight and the smell.

Y/N tried to catch Zuko’s eye and when it did flicker to hers, she mouthed a “Thank you” at him. Eyes glimmering with a child-like excitement, ironic since this is supposed to be her first ‘adult’ birthday.

This view certainly makes warmth blossomed in Zuko’s chest. What would he give to make her smile that bright everyday...

Or I guess the more appropriate sentiment is what WOULDN’t he give.... he is certain that when it comes to her, Zuko has no limit at all.

———————————————————————

“Man, I feel so full i’m almost nauseous” Sokka moaned, holding his bloated stomach. Mouth making several vomiting motions although thankfully nothing comes out. Yep, he certainly doesn’t look well.

Katara made a sheesh noise at Sokka’s terrible table manner, “If you keep on doing that, you’re gonna make the rest of us nauseous too, idiot”

“I think it’s best to retire to our rooms then...” Uncle Iroh said, “-before something unsightly happens” He added as he too can’t help himself from avoiding looking Sokka’s way.

The rest voiced their agreement and they all stood one by one. Mumbles of good night’s and see you tomorrow’s can be heard around the room as everyone make themselves scarce.

Before exiting, Ty Lee, ever the sweet person, approached Y/N to give her one last hug for the night.

As she pulled away from the hug, she let out a happy gasp and flails her arms wildly, not able to contain her elation.

“WHAT IS THAT?!?! why didn’t you say anything earlier! how silly of me not to notice it at all!!!” She started talking animatedly without pause, leaving Y/N in another state of bewilderment.

“Ty Lee, what are you referring to?” Y/N tried to ask her.

“Don’t play coy with me now, young lady!” Ty Lee shoot back at her, putting her hands on both of her hips.

Suddenly, Zuko swoop in to the rescue. Putting himself between Y/N and Ty Lee, almost as if he’s trying to shield her away.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one night, Ty Lee” He started saying before he put one hand on her back and guiding her out the door as Ty Lee continues to protest against him, clearly still have a lot more to say.

“Oh I see what you’re trying to do, Zuko. Have fun you two!!! don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” Was the last thing Ty Lee managed to shout out before the door was closed in front of her face.

Well that certainly leaves a lot of wiggle room, Spirits knows that Ty Lee is always up for anything. And by anything, I really do mean absolutely anything.

As the both of them are the only ones remain in the room, Zuko turns his full attention to her.

“Would you take a walk with me to the garden? it’s a full moon tonight, no doubt the view will be enchanting” He said in a hopeful tone.

Y/N gives him a small smile as she just looped their arms together for an answer. Then they walk side by side in a comfortable silence.

———————————————————————

True to his words, as the garden came into view, Y/N can feel the sight took her breath away. The moonlight shone softly against the grass, its light reflecting like glimmering crystals in the turtle duck pond. She can certainly see why this is Zuko’s go-to place, his very own safe haven inside the palace.

He guided her to a spot beneath a big tree, right beside the pond where they both took a seat beside each other.

“Mind explaining to me what is going on?” Y/N asked as she trace circles on the palm of Zuko’s hand, a gesture that relaxes him completely.

He cleared his throat, clearly trying to pick his words carefully.

“You know how each nation has different customs right? especially regarding relationships”

Y/N cocks her head to the side so she could look at him better, then she hums to let him know that she’s following his train of thought.

“And by relationship, I specifically mean courting rituals” He continued. “Like in your tribe for example, the man has to make a hand-crafted choker that serves as a betrothal necklace to show how serious he is, right?”

“Yeah... that’s correct” She answers, now her undivided focus is on him as she’s trying to decipher where he is going with this conversation.

“In Fire Nation, gifting zan has the same meaning as choker is to the Water Tribe....” As he said this, his voice turns soft, almost lowering into a whisper as he scans her face for reaction.

Y/N is quiet for a while, the realization of the meaning sinks deep into her, but she tries to keep her face as neutral as possible although inside she’s over the moon.

“Ahh so that explains why i’ve been receiving weird looks all day”

“Y-yeah... wearing that dragon zan is just the same as screaming to the entirety of Fire Nation that you belong to me” Zuko said sheepishly, clearly embarrassed. “Not that I mean to offend by objectifying you, of course”

Frankly speaking Zuko is feeling very frustrated because the girl he has been pining over for the longest time is showing him no emotion at all, it’s nerve-wrecking.

“I’m sorry... I clearly don’t know what I was thinking” He said defeatedly. “You’re free to just leave it in the box and never wear it again now that you know what it signifies”

“And why would I do that?” Her reply got Zuko turning his head back up to face her so fast he nearly broke his own neck. “B-b-but” He stammered, but Y/N quickly shush him by putting her finger in front of his mouth.

“Now that I know... I think I may even want to wear it to sleep every night, perhaps I should never remove it at all, don’t you think?

To say that Zuko is shocked is not big enough of a word to describe what he is currently feeling. Did she just actually accepted his courting proposal?!

“Do you really mean that? and you’re not mad at all?” He asked timidly, eyes searching hers, finding nothing but genuineness.

“Why would I be mad?” Y/N said, as she put one of her hand on his chest, rubbing it softly from side to side. Trying to calm down his jumpy heartbeat but it seems like she only succeded in making it beat even faster.

“So does that mean that you like me back?”

“Yes, Zuko. It means that I like you a lot” She said, erasing his worries away.

He cups her cheek gently, to which she can’t help but close her eyes, sighing in contentment. She leans even further into his touch, loving the feeling completely.

Zuko leaned down to whisper directly into her ear, the feeling of his breath against her skin sending goosebumps all over her body as she could feel her own breath hitch. “May I kiss you?”

“Well you might as well do since we got a lifetime of kissing ahead of us” Y/N said teasingly to which Zuko can’t help but chuckle deeply.

And so he did. He look straight into her eyes, moving his hand to cup her chin instead and slowly leaned in, savoring the euphoric feeling. She can’t help the breathy moan that escaped her lips, Spirits, it’s like he’s drinking her in.

He pulled away for a second to say, “Careful there, i’m never letting you go now”

She just grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in again “Never said I want you to” and Zuko can’t help but smile into the kiss.

———————————————————————

A loud crash from above interrupted their heartfelt moonlight tryst as they pulled away, startled from the sudden noise.

Zuko and Y/N squinted their eyes upwards, trying to point out the source when they see one of the bedroom’s window pane that overlook the garden is opened with 6 faces peeking out, clearly have not yet realized that whatever sleuthing they were up to has failed.

“Stop stepping on my toes, Sokka” Toph half-shout angrily, followed by a smacking noise and Sokka yell of pain.

“You’re one to talk huh, Toph? you are literally sitting on my lap right now” Suki voice raised above the commotion around her.

“Guys, would you please stop talking, they’re gonna notice if you keep this up” Aang pleaded.

“Clearly too late for you to worry about that” Zuko said from beside her, making the six of them stop and look down. Giving the Fire Lord and the future Fire Lady a guilty smile.

“Nice view from up there?” Y/N said, not wanting to miss out on all the fun. She and Zuko shares a look, one of pure mischief.

The peace didn’t last long for all six of them began fighting again about whose fault was it that they got caught. Meanwhile Y/N just shakes her head at another one of their shenanigans.

Then she laid her head against Zuko’s chest again, craving to be as close as possible to his warmth. Letting his scent engulfs her every senses. How she loves her very own human heating pad.

———————————————————————

A/N : Thank you so much for reading my fourth Zuko fic!!! I hope you all enjoy it because I certainly did🥰

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla aang #atla rewatch #avatar the legend of aang #atla zuko #atlaedit #avatar the legend of korra #avatar zuko #iroh & zuko #zuko x reader #zuko fanart #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko #zuko angst #zuko drabble #zuko imagine #zuko smut #zuko x reader smut #atla fanfic #atla fandom #atla x you #atla x reader #atla drabble #atla imagine

[prose-for-hire]

Shared Affection

Pairing: Willow x fem!reader; Xander x fem!reader [Bi reader !!]

Request: Hey! can you please write a Willow/Xander x fem reader story where they both have crushes on the reader and they're trying to figure out if she likes boys or girls only to find out shes bi?

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I feel like I’m still a little rusty but I did like writing a little something for this request !! Hope it’s what you wanted and I’m sorry about the wait 💖

You were a new transfer to UC Sunnydale. You could sense that you were on a Hellmouth as soon as you set foot in this new place you would call home. You could sense things, energies and what some may call magic. It just hadn’t occurred to you that this was any different to how other people felt and experienced the world. This would all change, however, once you met who would be your new group of friends. They would show you new possibilities as well as showing you just how powerful you truly are.

You met Buffy in a class you had both taken and subsequently bonded over how much you regretted it. From that first day you both vowed to help each other get through the year. It was as if you just clicked, she was an instant best friend, you could feel it. She then introduced you to her other friends, Willow, Anya and Xander. The latter didn’t actually go to college but he would sneak onto the campus so often and he was good company so you were pleased at this. You got on with everyone so well, it was clear that they had become fond of you almost instantly. Some, more than others.

Over the next five months, Xander and Willow had found themselves adoring you. Neither realising that the other held feelings for you. Xander and you both loved films. You would watch them together all of the time and it became a weekly tradition. You would either go to his basement or he would spend time in your dorm. Sometimes you would forget that the film was on and laugh until you cried at the comments he would make. He was so funny and you couldn’t help but feel so comfortable in his presence.

Willow and you spent time together, she had shown you some small spells for you to practice and you described to her the energy you felt especially now you were in Sunnydale. You could spend hours through the night, just talking. Laughing and sharing your deepest thoughts. She was so sweet to you and you really valued all of the time she spent with you.

Both of them had made you feel so welcome and you enjoyed the attention you had been getting more and more of from them both. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t suspect that one or both of them may have feelings for you. Although, whenever you thought this you berated yourself for assuming more from their friendly natures.

You couldn’t help loving them, they were so kind and they both looked after you in their own ways. Willow and her magic, Xander and his courage. They were truly now extremely important people in your life. You were thinking of this as you saw Buffy saving your usual seat in your class.

She smile and got you up to speed on all of the latest news you might have missed since you saw her last night on patrol. She was now your closest friend and you basically told each other everything. She had finished telling you all about Riley and what she had found out after the Gentlemen had finally been taken care of. Although, she suddenly changed the topic with a smile and a glint in her eye. She wouldn’t go into detail although she happened to hint about you having a ‘secret admirer’. 

Your mind went to Xander and then to willow in almost the same second. Who you suppose you wished it to be. But then, would you want to choose between them? Hurt one at the expense of the other? Would you even be able to choose? Or could you share them both, forget about monogamy, or would that put a strain on their friendship?

Stop. You had to halt all of the scenarios spinning around your head. It was possible it was nobody in your new little friendship group. Perhaps it was a pretty demon that Anya used to know from the olden days that had seen you from afar.

Willow and Xander were sat in the college canteen while you and Buffy were finishing your lecture. Xander had slid in with a group of guys that had finished a game of football so that nobody would question him. They sat and talked for a little but both of their minds had been on you. On their feelings for you. Neither knew that they had never felt this strongly for another person before. They just didn’t know how you could take it.

Willow had been thinking though. She had told Buffy she was gay. She had finally done it. She was a lesbian. She liked girls and only wanted to date girls now. Specifically, you. God, she adored you. Buffy had been surprised at her coming out but after a few months found herself being Will’s biggest supporter. It was easier to accept as Buffy already knew about your sexuality. You had always been open with her about being bi, you just hadn’t gotten around to telling anyone else.

“So, what do you think?” she asked after her usual rambling as she tried to broach the subject with Xander. She needed to see what he would say. She had realised instead that he had zoned out. His eyes watching for someone who was supposed to be here soon.

“Hm?”

“About y/n. I was thinking of asking her out-”

“You can’t!” Xander said, his voice had gone high-pitched at the suggestion. He then coughed and deepened his voice more than he would usually speak it to compensate, “…She’s not gay, Will”

“You don’t know! What are you th-the king of gay people now?”

“No!” Xander said quickly but his heart wasn’t really in their conversation. All he could ever do now was think of you. There was a pause for a while as both of them thought of the other, knowing now that they both felt the same for you. Then they thought of you. Of how close you had become. How kind and affectionate you could be with them. You cared for each of them but neither of them could help but wish for more. Xander suddenly spoke up again, still staring into the distance, “I know, of course I know. Do you, uh, really think… you know?”

“Sometimes she looks at me and I forget to do the breath-y thing” Willow admitted, now rubbing her hands together in her anxiety.

“Well, yeah she does. She’s- Y/n!” He suddenly said, his voice announcing you as he saw you walk towards them. You smiled and waved a little as you weaved between the tables to get to your friends.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she’s-” Willow replied, not realising you had been standing behind

“Hey, Y/n! Our Y/n, uh, Y/n our friend!” Xander said a little more urgently, over whatever Willow had been trying to say about your sexuality.

You smile and slide into a seat beside them. Both of them made you so comfortable to be around, you had this sense of home around both of them.

“Buffy caught up to Riley in the corridor, so it’s just me today,”

“That’s good!” Willow said, “Well, n-not good that she isn’t here but good that you are and that they have time together”

“Yeah, I think they’ll be okay. I hope so anyway, he could be good for Buffy right? I don’t know much about Angel but she looks so sad every time someone talks about him”

Willow nodded but Xander wasn’t quite listening. He was trying to think of a way to subtly change the subject from Buffy’s love life to yours. He ended up throwing subtlety out of the window an blurt it out.

“So, Y/n, how would you describe your type. What would your ideal man-”

“O-or woman! Or anybody else!”

“Oh, uh, well I’m not sure I have one type. I fall for people for more than their looks I guess. It just depends on the person!” You smiled but faltered slightly as their brows furrowed at your answer. It wasn’t specific enough for them to gauge who you might be interested in.

However, Willow loved your answer, as did Xander. He was usually a little insecure that he wasn’t the best looking guy or that he made too many jokes to be taken seriously by anyone. But of course, with you, it was different. You could sense goodness from them. You could sense love and promise and potential and you adored spending time with them so much.

But you could feel there was a slight tension. As if they were competing where usually they wouldn’t. Or that they were in some kind of unresolved discussion.

“Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity! We are, um, curious cats”

“If for example, Willow asked you on a date and uh, for the sake of this totally hypothetical situation, I also asked you out too – who would you pick?”

“Well, I think that I would be happy with either of you” You shrugged. And their mouths both widened in surprise at the same time. Neither of them had even considered you might like men and women. Even after you said this as you had to elaborate, “I’m bisexual”

They smiled at you, somewhat satisfied with this answer and both hugged you tightly at you admittance. You couldn’t help grinning so wide at their warmth. Then they caught each other’s eye and saw that they mirrored each other’s expression. That they saw that they had a chance with you. At your love. As you got up and excused yourself that you had to get to another class, there was a silent agreement. Both of them were set on competing for your attention. Especially now that they knew they definitely could have a chance to be by your side.

You weren’t really sure what to make of their question, you told yourself not to think too much into it. Just in case your mind began to spit out unrealistic scenarios that would disappoint you. You left them, not aware that they were both intently watching you leave. Your form dancing away from them in that way that they loved. Their eyes never left you and their thoughts lingered even longer.

One day, you would probably have to make some kind of decision. For now, you were just pleased that they accepted you for who you were. That you couldn’t sense even the smallest change in their fondness for you when you told them. For now, you could enjoy their love, whether platonic or otherwise and keep spending as much free time as you could with them.

#Willow rosenberg x reader #xander harris x reader #xander harris #willow rosenberg #willow x reader #xander x reader #willow rosenberg imagine #xander harris imagine #willow rosenberg x you #xander harris x you #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark’s Girl

part 014/015 “one more time, captain”

previous part // next part

masterlist

word count 3.9k

an: this part does include dialogue from avengers endgame, which is not my work nor do i claim it to be!

It’s been five years since the Blip. You had been back by Natasha’s side for almost six months now, and she was grateful for every moment. There were days where she would break down (which until recently was unheard of) and you would be there by her side. And she had done what she could to help you out with your trauma. Before you accepted her offer of coming back, she had put two and two together when she recognized the faces on the news to the faces that had adorned a spare room in that house of yours in Ransdorp. Natasha had a past of her own, no doubt about that, so she could relate to how you had felt when you admitted on your own time what you had been up to those few years after Siberia. 

It wasn’t an easy conversation, at one point you had broken down into sobs and reminded her a lot of herself when she had taken some time after a mission gone wrong years back. She mostly understood the shame that coursed through you, but one thing she made you understand was what HYDRA had done, the things you did because of them, wasn’t your fault. Natasha also made sure to tell you the blackouts weren’t your fault either, and she understood why you did what you had done. Although it was trauma you would have to live with, she knew the feeling better than most of losing your years to programs like that.

All of this was to say that both women had a newfound respect and understanding of one another. It became easier to work alongside one another, being able to almost anticipate one’s actions and decisions as they occurred. No one had seemed to really get Nat like that since Barton.. Which was why she was so hell bent on tracking him down.

Natasha had come to the realization about a year ago that Barton had gone off the radar because his family was among those they lost. When bodies started piling up (not due to your hands) and some of the known details were faint signatures of Barton’s handiwork.. Nat made it her mission to find him. Because this was not him. And although he was taking down some questionable people, they weren’t responsible for Thanos.

“Listen fur-face,” Carol Danvers threw out that regained Nat’s attention. “I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere, on thousands of planets.”

“All right all right, that’s a good point,” Rocket remarked. Nat stole a glance your way to which you only offered a shrug as Carol continued.

“So.. You might not see me for a long time,” she redirected towards Nat. Natasha nodded her head and leaned forward on the desk she sat behind. 

“Alright.. Well this channel is always active. If anything goes sideways, anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t, it comes through me.”

Everyone agreed and one by one the holograms disappeared. You took a seat in front of the desk, and Nat redirected her attention to Rhodes. “Where are you?

“Mexico,” Rhodes answered. “The Federales found a room full of bodies, looks like a bunch of cartel guys. They never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

Nat shrugged her shoulders and sat back in her seat. “Probably a rival gang.”

“Except it isn’t,” Rhodes countered. Natasha’s eyes shift, and your gaze shoots up at her. “It’s definitely Barton.. What he’s done here, what he’s been doing the last few years.. Nat, the scene he left?.. I gotta tell you, a part of me doesn’t want to find him.”

Natasha grabbed the sand which she had prepared just earlier and bit a piece off. She just needed to focus on something other than what Rhodes was telling her, she didn’t need anyone to see her cry right now. “Will you find out where he’s going next?”

“Nat,” Rhodes tried to warn.

“Please,” Natasha pleaded. You glanced Rhodey’s way and he met your eyes. You offered a grim look, and he sighed.

“Okay.”

And with that Rhodey’s comm broke off too. You watched as Nat placed the sandwich back down and sighed deeply, all before her face began to scrunch up into a sob. You were quick out of your seat and moved around the desk and kneeled by her side. “Nat.. Nat we’re gonna find him.”

“I just don’t know why he couldn’t come to me,” she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. “I know this must be hard for him, losing Laura and the kids, but he could’ve come to me.”

You reached your hand out to rub her shoulder and let out a small sigh. “Sometimes it’s hard to let those you care about see in you in those dark places.”

Nat finished rubbing under her eyes and grabbed the sandwich off her plate again with her other hand. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding the talk with Steve?”

You bit back the smile and stood. She had done what she did best, diverted the conversation from herself to something else. “You’re still on about that?”

“Oh come on, I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Natasha prodded as you went to gather your things. “How much longer are you going to wait to be happy?”

The question made you pause, and before you could respond Nat perked up at something behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and was met with none other than Steve Rogers, hands in his pockets, and with a small smile on his face. 

“Speak of the devil,” Natasha joked. Your gaze immediately went back to her and you gave her your best glare, while Steve raised his brow at her. They were so easy to mess with, she thought. “Here to do your laundry?”

“And to see some friends,” Steve replied. You held your things closer to your chest as Steve came further into the room.

“I’m actually getting ready to leave for Tony’s,” you threw out there. “I promised to go see my favorite niece.”

“Are you going to be okay making the drive this late at night?” Steve asked. Natasha rolled her eyes to herself and took a hefty bite of her sandwich. If she had to watch another pining episode she was going to make sure you two never heard the end of it. You, on the other hand, smiled at his sentiment.

“Oh I think I can manage,” you told him. You offered your farewells, and started back to your room to grab your bag and head out. Steve watched you leave before looking back at Nat who was waving him off.

“Meet me in the kitchen, I need a drink,” she told him, and took her sandwich with her towards the kitchen area. Steve chuckled lightly, and followed in your steps to the residence area. He was just catching you outside your room, and he took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket, clutching it in his fist. You heard him approach and looked his way, shutting your door and offering a smile.

“Hey,” you managed before Steve got up to you, and his serious expression made your smile fall. “Are you okay..?”

“Seven years ago I asked you if one day you’d want to get away from all of this,” Steve started. You remembered the conversation far too well, and immediately shut your mouth in a tight expression. A heaviness filled your chest, but you tried your best to ignore it. “From this life where we were needing to be more than just us… Do you remember?”

“Yes-”

“I told you that I would wait for you, no matter how long it took, no matter what happened, because.. Because you have been the best thing to happen to me since I came out of the ice. You taught me how to live again,” Steve continued.

“Steve,” you whispered, but he kept going.

“I love you,” he admitted, finally looking into your eyes. They were darker than usual, and you could see he meant it. “I couldn’t go another day without telling you. Because.. You feel like home.”

Steve grabbed a hold of your hands, and you watched as he placed something into your palms. He retracted his hold on you and your fingers curled over the soft velvety box in your hand. You looked up at him with curious eyes, and slowly used your thumb to open the box and let out a small gasp.

“Steve,” you whispered, staring down at the contents.

“It was my moms.. SHIELD saved it when I went into the ice,” Steve explained. You carefully ran your finger over the gold banded ring that practically shined up at you. You hadn’t seen a more beautiful piece of jewelry, and did your best to fight back the tears. “I’m not expecting an answer.. But I just wanted you to see that I meant it. It was always meant for you anyway.. Maybe we still have a shot at that normal life.”

Your gaze went back up to his, and he smiled softly at you. You were speechless as one of his hands grabbed onto your arm and he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. And then you watched him take a couple steps back, before he turned around and went back the direction you both had just come. 

You were shocked, which even then felt like an understatement. Steve just.. Proposed. Inadvertently? Well it was purposeful, and if Natasha knew about it you were going to kill her for not saying anything. It took you a while to reclose the box and carefully place it into a pocket in your bag, it was delicate and you wanted to take care of it.

And well.. It certainly kept your mind occupied on your drive to Tony’s cabin.

Tony had left your room untouched for the most part, which was a welcomed thing to come into. You weren’t up for too long, forcing Tony to go to bed, but you did spend some time scrolling through your phone. Steve was right when he had said he wasn’t expecting an answer right away, you half expected a message of some sort but things seemed relatively quiet from his end. It was harder to fall asleep that night, you found yourself drifting off to what would happen if you said yes.

You’d want to move somewhere quiet, like what Tony did. That would give you a chance to refocus yourself.. Would that even be something Steve would be open to doing?.. Could he get you the same help he had gotten Barnes (Natasha said he felt at peace for once)? Hell, if they could just wipe out any lingering thoughts of Hydra you’d never have another problem in your life.

What’s more.. If you said no would this be what you life is like? Alone, and longing for the maybe’s that could have been? Which was better? Risk getting involved again, or risk never having that connection to someone again? It wasn’t the ideal question to fall asleep to.

When morning broke and sunlight peeked through the blinds, you woke up and found yourself sitting among the sheets and staring at the open box in your hands. The diamond that sat in the middle and gleamed in the sunlight made you sigh, it felt as if it was screaming at you that you knew what you wanted to tell him.

Did you?

You snapped the box closed and hid it in a drawer beside the bed and decided to change into something other than sweatpants for the day. After finishing and bounding down the stairs you ended up behind your favorite little niece, and scooped her up into a bear hug from behind. “There’s my little sleeping beauty!”

“She couldn’t wait to see her favorite aunt today,” Pepper remarked from the kitchen amongst the giggles that erupted from her daughter. You peppered kisses on Morgan’s head, and Pepper turned around as she was drying what you assumed was breakfast dishes. “Tony barely had to tuck her in before she was out.”

You set Morgan back down on the ground and she went back to messing with a toy on the breakfast table. You ruffled her hair and went to grab a cup of coffee before resting your hip against the counter besides Pepper. “How has he been?”

“A little stir crazy,” Pepper admitted to which you nodded lightly and sipped at your warm mug. “He put up this picture of the kid and I catch him getting lost looking at it.”

“And how have you been?” You asked. Pepper glanced your way and smiled.

“Hoping one day he’ll finally rest his mind.”

Eventually, you brought Morgan outside who immediately ran towards her tent and disappeared inside. You went towards the shed with an open door, and leaned against the frame, taking in the sight of Tony wielding what you could make out was a helmet. “Work never stops for you, does it?”

Tony glanced over his shoulder and waved you in, which you accepted. You came up behind him and gripped his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You’re supposed to be retired, old man.”

“It’s just a little project,” Tony tried to assure you. You couldn’t help but scoff, and pointed your thumb to a corner of the room.

“Says the one who built me a new suit last year,” you teased. Tony used one hand to back hand your side playfully and you laughed. You stood beside him now, and grabbed a picture frame sitting on the shelf over where he worked. It was a picture of the two of you when you were younger, barely big enough to fit the frame, and slightly discolored. You ran your hand over the front before putting the frame back and rubbing your hands together. “Can I talk to you about something..?”

“Anything, kid,” Tony said, overly engrossed in the task in front of him. You took a deep breath and shrugged your shoulders, not that he could even see you.

“When did you know that.. Well that you didn’t want to wait anymore? To start a family?” 

Tony immediately stopped what he was working on, taking off a pair of clear protective glasses and setting his tool down. When he turned to face you and rest his elbow on the table, he tilted his head and scrunched his brows. “Excuse me?”

“Come on Tony, I’m being serious,” you told him.

“Yeah well so am I!” Tony exclaimed and stood. You watched as he stood from his stool and started to pace back and forth. You crossed your arms and huffed. He was acting like such a child! As if he could read your thoughts he stopped and pointed a finger at you. “It’s Steve isn’t it? Is he pressuring you or something?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that-”

“Because he’s hard headed and doesn’t know when to stop,” Tony said, cutting you off. You shook your head and scoffed.

“Tony please, this isn’t about you two-”

“I told him if he messes with your feelings again.. I swear when I get a hold of him,” Tony started pacing again and you rolled your eyes and started towards him. “He has some nerve-”

“Tony,” you stopped him dead in his tracks and made him face you, finally getting a hold of his gaze. “He didn’t do anything to me, okay? If anything.. He’s been trying to make up to me what happened.”

Tony sighed and his expression softened, but you shrugged. “I know he lied to us about knowing what happened to mom and dad… But you always told me that I wasn’t what Hydra made me, that what I did wasn’t me but them… Tony, why is Barnes so different?”

“Steve lied to us,” Tony said in a low tone. “He lied to protect his friend but what about us, huh? We weren’t his friends? We didn’t deserve to know the truth?”

“He handled it wrong Tony, I know. I’m just saying does that outweigh all the good he did for us,” you offered. Tony sighed and looked away for a moment as if annoyed. You grabbed a hold of his hand and it forced him to look back at you. “He’s trying.. And you told me that sometimes just trying was a good start.”

Tony sighed and raised a brow at you. “I hate it when you throw things back in my face like that.”

You chuckled and Tony  used his free hand to cover the hand holding his. “Look I’m still iffy on the idea but.. If Rogers is who you want to be with then who am I to stop it? I’m a family man now anyway, I have bigger fish to fry.”

And with that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and while he fished it out you laughed little. “She’s turning out too much like you.”

“Scares me to death everyday,” Tony replied while checking the message from Pepper. “Time to feed the munchkin anyway, we can continue this talk later when I’ve had a couple drinks.”

Tony and you walked side by side to Morgan’s play tent, and after finally getting her out. Tony whisked her up when you felt your phone buzz, and you pulled it out to see a notification from Natasha. It was weird, she normally didn’t bother you when you were with Tony, she always said to focus on family time. You fell back a few steps and read her message.

Nat: Heads up, you got incoming.

“Incoming?” You muttered to yourself as you came up the steps behind Tony. You nearly knocked into him. You followed his gaze to the car coming to a stop in front of his cabin, and watched Steve, Natasha, and someone else get out. Steve’s expression was serious, hell all of theirs were and Tony didn’t look amused. Natasha offered a nod to Tony and he turned to you, and you took Morgan from him with a smile. “Let’s go see mom, hm?”

You quietly walked inside and set Morgan at the table and met Pepper’s look before she returned to watching out the window. You ruffled Morgan’s hair and returned back outside, the screen door thumping closed behind you. The three visitors started up the stairs as you rejoined Tony’s side.

“Sorry for dropping in unannounced,” Steve offered. Tony glanced your way with a look. You could only shrug. What? You didn’t know they were coming. But if they did then.. Something was up.

“We have something though that we think might work.. To get everyone back,” Natasha said. Your breath hitched, and when you looked over at Tony there was a hint of something in his eyes. The third person stepped forward and nodded at the both of you.

“Have you two heard of the Quantum Realm?”

It was.. A long explanation. Everyone was gathered in a circle at this point, and in all honesty you had a hard time following along. There were stolen glances between you and Steve, and each time a feeling grew in the pit of your stomach. But you forced yourself to pay attention because this was big.. Could it work though?

“Now, we know what this sounds like,” Scott had finished up before Steve cut in.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” He asked. Tony was looking out to the lake near his home but when addressed he looked back at the group and gripped onto the railing.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked. You glanced at everyone else and cleared your throat.

“Maybe for those of us not fluent in quantum mechanics, Tony?” You asked. Tony sighed and tapped his fingers on the wood.

“In layman’s terms, it means you’re not coming home,” was all he offered.

“But I did,” Scott offered. Tony shook his head at that.

“No, you accidentally survived,” Tony corrected. “It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

Scott cleared his throat. “A time heist..?”

Tony scoffed in a joking manner and rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them,” Scott tried to reason.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back,” Natasha chimed in.

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony asked. Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism,” Tony said in a sarcastic tone. Everyone went back and forth for a while. Tony shot down every claim, and the rest tried to tell him there’s always a chance. The back and forth didn’t stop until the screen door was pushed open and Morgan came up to Tony’s side.

“Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said. You couldn’t help but smile and cross your arms. Tony picked her up and pat her back.

“Good job, I’m saved,” he reassured her. He refocused on the group and offered a shrug. “I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for seven.”

.”Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance,” Steve tried again, but Tony shook his head.

“I got my second chance right here,” Tony told him. You could see Steve accept his denial and then met Tony’s gaze. “I can’t roll the dice again.”

Tony excused himself and the porch fell silent. You watched him disappear into the house and looked back at the group in front of you. No one knew what to say, but Natasha was the first to speak. “Sorry for interrupting your weekend.”

“Well when you have a hell of a plan like that I don’t expect you to wait normal business hours,” you replied. Natasha sadly smiled and you sighed. “Tony has everything he’s ever wanted.. I don’t know if I can sweet talk him into helping.”

“We know,” Steve offered and gave a sad smile. “We just wanna do it right.”

“Tony may not be on board but.. If there’s a chance? I’m in,” you offered. Nat reached out and pat your shoulder and as if knowingly, she turned around and pulled Scott with her. You took a couple steps towards Steve and he straightened up a bit. “Nice to see you back, Cap.”

“One last mission,” Steve whispered. You smiled and looked behind him at the car he had come in and Natasha smirked at you. You met Steve’s gaze again and slowly lifted her young to rest on his cheek. On your tiptoes and with the sun basking in the sky, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Steve had leaned into your touch, his lips pressing against yours as if it would be the last. After a couple seconds you pulled away and you both lingered close.

“Go save the world one more time, Captain.”

- - - - - - - - - -

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#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x stark!reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fic #Stark siblings #stark!reader #tony stark x sister!reader

[all-about-remadora]

200 followers!

So here’s a list of One shots for celebrate✨

Everyone Deserves A Someone by LoquaciousLupin

With nothing better to do during the holidays at Grimmauld Place, Hermione and Ginny wonder whether their former Professor has a special someone - with no other ideas, they do the only thing they can and ask him. With a little help from Tonks, Remus answers their questions as honestly... as he can. Remus and Tonks fluff.

A Beautiful Tune by SweetDeamon

I'm...not coming." he said, reaching to shove his hands deep into his pockets. "On the mission. With you." Tonks stared at him in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, grip upon the cloak in her hand going limp. Remus struggled to come up with a convincing lie. "Because I...I..." Because I'm dying. Because you've struck me dead in the heart.

The Unspeakable Girl by SweetDeamon

"She makes me feel so on top of this world that I wish I'd never been born into it in the first place! So I can't stand to talk about her, Dad! I simply can't!" In which Remus Lupin visits his father and confesses something quite extraordinary. Based on information from POTTERMORE. Consider yourselves warned. RLNT.

The Future's Not Ours To See by Gilpin

Remus Lupin has a lot on his mind; his current undertaking for the Order of the Phoenix, and how to obtain questionable potions from an unhelpful Apothecary owner. Can he bring both to a satisfactory conclusion?

Rhapsody in Blue by copperbadg

Remus has decided it's time to cure Tonks of her awkwardness, the only way he knows how.

Kissing It Better by Lady Bracknell

On her first date with Remus, Tonks discovers that spilt beer on wooden floors is the enemy of the less than surefooted everywhere. Will she die of embarrassment, or will Remus find a way to make it all better?

Kiss and tell by Lady Bracknell

For all his supposed genius, Sirius Black had always had rather a blind spot for the patently obvious.

What To Make Of Him by Lady Bracknell

Neither Ted nor Andromeda know quite what to make of their daughter's boyfriend. Can he win them round over Sunday lunch?

On First Impressions by  cafei-au-lei

"'You know,' Sirius said, 'it's kind of funny. For someone who thinks Remus is so annoying, you sure can't seem to stop talking about him.'" A series of moments in Remus and Tonks' developing relationship as they get to know each other and learn that maybe first impressions aren't necessarily everything. OOTP. Fluffy oneshot.

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors by cafei-au-lei

The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors, or: the ladies indulge in some firewhiskey and gossip. Sirius and Remus stumble upon a game they're not sure they want to be privy to (okay, maybe Sirius does.) The results lead to some necessary conversation and introspection for a few of the parties involved. Oneshot.

The Talk, Or: The (Lighthearted) Trauma of Teddy R Lupin by cafei-au-lei

Teddy knew when Dad brought out the firewhiskey that something was suspicious. Then again, maybe he wasn't giving Dad enough credit for being the cool parent. AU. Remus and Tonks survive to raise their son and give him The Dreaded Talk. Oneshot.

Movement by MrsTater

Things appear to have changed. One shot, RLNT

Retrograde by MrsTater

Sequel to Movement: Tonks strongly suspected, though she hadn't much experience, that it wasn't normal for adults who fancied other adults to do what she was doing now.

Kernels by MrsTater

A Transfigured Hearts outtake: a cosy night in with Remus takes an unexpected turn when popcorn finds its way into odd places and leads Tonks to make an important discovery.

Party till the wolf comes by MrsTater

Fatherhood doesn't send Remus on a pub crawl, but announcing the birth of his son to his closest friends turns out to be the next best thing.

Overheard by MrsTater

Sirius tries to play matchmaker for an ambivalent Remus and Tonks, but when everyone keeps overhearing everyone else's conversations, things get a little complicated as shapeshifters prove to be anything but predictable... Updated Sept 3, 2007

The Honeymooners by MrsTater

Two years after their wedding, Remus and Tonks finally make it on their honeymoon. But now they've got something they didn't when they first married, will they be able to stop thinking about it long enough to enjoy themselves? AU

A Conversation That’s Not About Veela by starfishstar

Harry and Professor Lupin talk about women, and other things. During Christmas of HBP. (A gen story, but with very strong hints of Remus/Tonks and Harry/Ginny.)

Sleeping by starfishstar

Tonks sleeps; Remus muses

Precisely What I Mean by starfishstar

Remus with Teddy was easily the sweetest thing Tonks had ever seen. It seemed Remus couldn't ever hold Teddy without gazing down at his son with a huge, helpless, delighted grin. "Don't your cheeks ever get tired?" Tonks couldn't help teasing him once, and he'd glanced up, bewildered by the question – he didn't even realise he was doing it.

A Slow and Stopping Curve by aegle

Concerning Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks. Set during Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

St. Margaret's by aegle

Remus, Tonks, a Muggle automobile, and a slightly disappointing beach adventure

On Bethlehem Down by aegle

Remus Lupin finds himself at Nymphadora Tonks' flat on Christmas Eve, 1996

The poem which i do not write by aegle

So, it has come to London with them, whatever it is.

The Watch by Sirussly

He'd grown so used to her endless chatter and relentless questions, a burning ball of energy with a laugh like her mother's. Some nights Tonks would listen to him instead, to stories of war and the price one pays for being a soldier in the middle of it. Occasionally neither of them would speak, but once her hand found his and stayed there until the sunrise coloured the sky.

Flame by Eat a Taco

It's strange what the soft light of a candle can do to someone.RLNT, sometime during HBP

Cover Me by Maggiemaye

Remus and Tonks embark on a mission that tests their well-established partnership to its limits. Even while surrounded by Death Eaters hidden in plain sight, they find that their greatest threats may come from within.

Expecto Patronum by Shimotsuki

Remus and Tonks have dinner at the Potters' after seeing Teddy off on the Hogwarts Express. James and Al are full of questions, including one that not even Harry knows the answer to.

Meet the Reindeer by SweetDeamon 

Nothing untoward had happened since Teddy had arrived home from Hogwarts for the holidays this year. So far there had been no manically jingling elves, no traumatised Santa Claus, no mass snowball fights, no exploding cans of fake snow and as of yet nothing had come hurtling down the chimney or splattered anything or anybody with ammunition of the culinary kind. So far. RLNT AU.

Meet the Teacher by SweetDeamon 

In which Remus and Dora receive word from Hogwarts that their son's homework has been completed in a far from satisfactory manner. The subject? Defence Against the Dark Arts. The topic? Werewolves. They've been expecting trouble since the beginning of term...but who feels less prepared? Teddy's parents or Teddy's teacher? Neville has a hunch... AU. RLNT. Rated for mild language.

A Study In Pink by SweetDeamon 

"He isn't entirely sure how it is that a certain pink haired witch came to be lying snugly in the bed beside him yet again, or indeed why such a thing had ever occurred the first time around..." RLNT.

A Piece of Cake by SweetDeamon 

"How long does it take to make a bloody sponge cake!" "You can't rush art, Sirius." Tonks attempts to bake Remus a birthday cake. "Attempts to" being the key phrase here... RLNT. Happy Birthday Gelly Bean!

The Christmas Waltz by Lady Bracknell 

As Christmas approaches, Remus and Tonks dance around the idea of togetherness, wondering if either of them is leading, or know where they're going at all.

Mistletoe and Wine by Lady Bracknell 

Remus falls foul of the mistletoe. Twice. RL/LP, RL/NT, LP/JP, rated for language.

Afraid of the Dark by Lady Bracknell 

Remus had always been ill at ease in the forest, but when a mission for Dumbledore sends him into the heart of the place with Tonks by his side, he finds his apprehension harder than usual to shake off.

The Luck of the Draw by Lady Bracknell 

She sits on the carpet, shuffles the cards, then deals them out. She came here with the hope of forcing the issue, because she just knows they shouldn't be about can't and won't.

Chione by: cafei-au-lei

Remus has confirmation that Tonks may return his feelings - now all that's left is to decide what to do with this rather exciting and terrifying information. And although it's been a strange year, this year's Christmas could shape up to be one of the best Remus has ever had. Takes place after "The Order's Most Eligible Bachelors." RLNT OotP holiday fluff.

The First Night by: cafei-au-lei 

Most major events in Remus' life have done nothing but reinforce the crushing inevitability of his condition and the life that it has condemned him to. But maybe there is hope to be had, after all.

amare by: cafei-au-lei 

At first, the idea that Tonks and Professor Lupin could be together was equal parts baffling and absurd. But then, maybe it did make a tiny bit of sense, Ginny thought, as she watched the way Professor Lupin looked at Tonks over the breakfast table. But she still couldn't help but think that this love and relationships thing was far too complicated. RLNT.

War Baby by MrsTater 

It's time for Teddy's first outing, and for Tonks to make peace with a noble great idiot. Set during Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Perchance To Dream by: MrsTater

A dream leads to an argument and an unexpected quest to seek out the meaning. Will Remus and Tonks kiss and make up? More importantly, who will come out on top? RLNT, Deathly Hallows, Mature.

Like a Cat in the Sun by starfishstar 

Remus is in a house full of women.

#nymphadora tonks #remadora #remus lupin #remus x tonks #harry potter #allaboutremadora

[ruewrites]

Hi!!!!! I absolutely loved all of we're blooming together and everything else in the series, do you think we could maybe get some of the story from solomon's POV?

AO3

WBT

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3122

Warning: None

A/N: Hello Hello! Thank you so much for requesting this! It was wonderful coming back to this AU! I hope you enjoy this little perspective from Solomon's point of view. I'm always down to revisit WBT if you guys ever want to see anything else!

Solomon couldn't exactly remember when he'd started having feelings for his best friend. Probably around highschool? Late middle school? Whatever the case, Solomon had known he liked him, but he had some problems.

One. All of Asmo's partners were beautiful and charismatic and usually had some sort of high standing. It wasn't that Solomon was not popular so to speak but he wasn't the captain of the football team or the cheerleading team, he didn't have lots of ins to big fancy parties, and he wasn't extremely social. He noticed things about them, things he believed he could never measure up to, but he was always there for Asmo no matter what happened, advising him after fights and helping him through breakups. Not that he minded, he knew Asmo would do the same for him given the chance. It's how they functioned.

Two. His family. They knew he was attracted to women, but as far as he knew they had no clue that he also had feelings for men. Ash, his old caretaker, was the only one who Solomon knew about his feelings towards men. They’d raised him, they knew. It wasn't that he thought they'd react poorly, he just didn't know how they'd react. He saw them so rarely anyways that he figured it just didn't matter. They could figure it out after he moved out. Not to mention, finding other men to ask out was hard, especially when he kept thinking of Asmo. Women were easier for him to date. He often didn't have to question if they were attracted to him or if they wanted to date him.

Three. Asmo was his first childhood friend. His best friend.

He’d been the first friend Solomon had ever had, and Solomon had never been this close to anyone. Their relationship was special, something sacred.

So much was on the line.

He stopped dating all together after they left for college. He knew he liked Asmo too much at this point. It would be unfair to anyone else he did try to date.

So when Asmo broke up with his last ex, Solomon got an idea.

He gave him a little bit of time wanting to make sure that Asmo was okay after the messy breakup that had followed. Solomon had a lot of disdain for his last boyfriend. The man had been a monster. Solomon had had Asmo at his apartment sobbing over the latest argument they'd had. How this man had picked at the smallest insecurity until it burst open allowing blood to flow. Lucifer had been the one to convince Asmo to break up with him, something Solomon couldn't have been more relieved for.

He couldn't stand watching Asmo be stuck in that cycle anymore.

He waited a while before even constructing his first letter.

"You know, you could just tell him," Simeon's voice came as Solomon paced back and forth trying to think of the perfect words, "I think Asmodeus would be delighted to go out with you."

"If only it could be that easy."

"It literally could be that easy."

Solomon fell back onto the couch, mulling over if there was anything else he could or should say before telling Simeon he was done with this letter. He and Asmo had history together. If Asmo didn't want this, it could potentially put strain on their relationship.

"I need to test the waters first to see if he'd even be receptive to someone asking him out."

"And you can't just ask him if he wants to go see a movie with you on the weekend?" Simeon chuckled. Solomon was about to retort, but his friend continued, "Although, from what I've seen of Asmodeus, I think he'll like this."

One letter turned to two.

Two to three.

Three to four.

And so on.

Each time Solomon swore up and down it would be the last one and that he would just tell him. But then Asmo started to get more cuddly, more bold, with him. Each time Solomon lost his nerve.

But seeing how happy the letters made him didn't make him regret a thing.

Then Asmo invited him out, as his model. He couldn't say no. How could he say no? He thought he'd be prepared to see Asmo, but how he couldn't have been more wrong. Solomon's mouth went dry as soon as he opened the door. Staring too long would be impolite, but not taking in every inch of him would have been a crime. Every touch, every caress made Solomon lose his words.

In hopes of loosening up from his anxieties, he drank. He told himself it would only be one fancy drink.

But one became two.

Two became three.

Three became four.

And so on.

Soon his drunken mind had been making (what he thought were) cute little passes at Asmo. Or at least what he thought were cute little passes. His sober mind had later realized that almost falling off of a stool and nearly smashing his face into a counter probably wasn't the most ideal form of flirting. But he was drunk on Asmo just as much as he was drunk off of the alcohol. Then they'd moved to the couch. That closeness had gotten to him. Everything was going perfectly.

Until it didn't.

He thought for sure Asmo would have said no to that woman. Solomon should have said no. He had straight A's. He was in the top of their class. All of his professors told him he had a bright future. He was a smart young man.

But he'd made a very stupid decision.

The young woman had only wanted a dance and Solomon certainly didn't want to put a damper on her night. He figured Asmo would have followed to dance. In a way, he hadn't really known what he'd been agreeing to.

Then she kissed him.

Then Asmo wouldn't speak to him.

Text after text ran through his phone. He knew Asmo had to be getting the texts, he never had his phone off. Yet he wasn't responding, and he wasn't posting on his socials.

So there Solomon sat, dejected and kicking himself in the living room. If only he could go back and redo that night. He'd do it right. He would have asked Asmo out right there on the couch.

"Are you going to stop moping soon? I'd like to clean the living room."

Simeon peaked into the doorway, but Solomon didn't bother looking at him. He could wallow in his own pity and lick his wounds a little more. "I apologize, I can move into my room and continue."

"No you won't," Simeon sighed, taking the seat next to him, "You could just come clean to him. I bet it'd make you feel better."

"He won't respond to my texts. I don't think he wants to see me."

"You could send him another letter."

But what to write?

What could Solomon possibly say to explain himself? The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if he’d been toying with Asmo. He kicked himself for having the need to show off and not just asking him out over one of their coffee meet ups. He might have had a better chance then.

He should have kissed Asmo that night.

So he sat hunched over his desk, piles of crumpled up papers sat haphazardly around his trash bin. Nothing seemed right. Flowery language at a time like this just didn’t fit. He wanted to be to the point. He wanted it to be genuine and something Asmo would listen to. That’s when it occurred to him that he just needed Asmo to see him in person. Oh how that thought twisted his stomach into knots. He almost didn’t do it.

It would have been so much easier to admire Asmo from a distance, to slink back inwards and continue to hide himself. But the longing within him hurt, and then the small voice in his head started whispering about how unfair it would be to Asmo. It was already too late to take back everything else he’d said and done; he knew he couldn’t just run away from it. Quickly scrawling out the few words he needed to say. Then, as if to give either one of them one last out, Solomon decided to plant one last letter. He would face death itself in the face and ask Lucifer to deliver the letter for him. Lucifer was protective, and for good reason. Solomon had no clue how he’d react or if he would even deliver the letter. But he would have to trust him.

Everything was so uncertain.

For as long as Solomon could remember, he’d had every step of his life planned out. He’d graduate with high honors from college, go to grad school, get his doctorate, and then teach as a college professor and spend his days responding to emails and grading assignments.

Then he started feeling that funny feeling in his chest, and it scared him. Falling for his best friend and then not being able to shake those feelings had certainly not been in his plans. It wasn’t something he could predict, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Asmodeus was smart and spontaneous. He was bright eyed with big dreams for his future and the only one who really ever got him to stop and think about how he’d reach those dreams was Solomon. He was also the one who always talked Solomon into dreaming bigger.

Solomon wasn’t really sure if he believed in fate or destiny or even soul mates, but perhaps this was it. Maybe life had presented him with the perfect person for him all those years ago. They foiled each other out and balanced. It felt perfect, it all felt perfect. His future now felt hazy and unsure, and while it was a terrifying thought Solomon wasn’t entirely sure he minded. Normally he hated uncertainty, but with Asmodeus he found that he didn’t mind. When they were together everything would be fine, no matter what.

When it came to uncertainty about their relationship, he despised it.

He found his thoughts drifting to their relationship more and more as he wandered through their old playground. The setting sun cast shadows between spots where they used to run and play together. He could still remember Asmo’s favorite hiding spots when they used to play hide and seek together. How he would squeal when Solomon caught him. The spot he used to pick flowers for Asmo was now starting to be taken over by weeds or grasses. Rust even covered the structures he and Asmo used to climb all over. Solomon didn’t even feel like he was there. He felt removed, as if he was merely an outside observer.

As the sun creeped lower and the shadows started to disappear, Solomon had started to become more anxious. Had Lucifer even given Asmodeus the letter? Or had Asmo decided that he was done? His anxieties heightened until they reached a plateau of acceptance as he sat on one of the old creaky swings. He’d have to accept that his relationship with Asmodeus would be nothing more than what it always had been. He could be fine with that. He could learn to be fine with that. They would slowly go back to their normal, and with time they’d laugh all of this off.

But for now, he’d stay right in this spot before maybe heading home in the early hours of the morning. He had made a mistake. He’d have to live with the consequences of that mistake forever.

His fingers gripped the chains tighter.

He almost didn’t lift his head when he heard the gate creak open. Any number of people from any number of backgrounds could be coming in. After all, it didn’t seem like people really came to this park any more. So he kept his eyes trained on his feet as he slowly rocked on the swing.

Back and Forth.

Back and Forth.

“Solomon?”

His heart stopped and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

Had he really-?

Slowly he lifted his head. If Asmodeus had been a figure of his imagination in that moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised. But he never disappeared.

If only Solomon’s mind could comprehend the next years of his life after that moment. If only Solomon knew how all of his carefully made plans would change. If only he knew how happy the rest of his life would be after that night.

***

“Hellooooo. Earth to Solomon.”

Solomon squinted his eyes as the hat he’d had was lifted from his face and the sun began to assault his eyes. He squinted for a moment before chuckling at the sight before him, “Ah, I’m sorry, did I go somewhere?”

“Seemed like it,” Asmodeus plopped down next to him on their beach towel under the umbrella and let out a sigh. Solomon glanced over him. Asmodeus was wearing a button up with his swim suit. His button up to be more precise.

Solomon reached out to tug at the end of the shit and let out a little hum, “Not like you to cover up at the beach. I thought you liked to soak up the sun.”

“Well I would have, if someone hadn’t been so insistent on marking me up last night,” he huffed, playfully swatting at Solomon’s hand. This only prompted Solomon to scoot closer, to poke at Asmo’s perfectly manicured finger tips. At which point, Asmo took his hand.

Solomon tried to pull him closer, “They look good on you though, and people should know how loved you are.”

“Well, if you really want to show people how loved I am, you could walk with me on the shoreline,” Asmo pecked his lips to end his sentence, giggling at how red Solomon was becoming. Yes he loved being affectionate, but PDA left him feeling a bit embarrassed.

“I told you the ocean isn’t really all that.”

“Solomon!”

“Fish pee in there you know.”

“Please?” Asmodeus pouted, “It’s romantic. We could find shells. Do it for your husband?”

Solomon tapped his fingers against his stomach, a soft hum leaving his lips. He wasn’t fond of the ocean. Asmodeus was the one who thought a trip here would be romantic for their honeymoon, and he hadn’t been wrong. There was a lot to do on the boardwalk and their honeymoon suite had been phenomenal. He just didn’t think he’d be going anywhere near the ocean. But the more Asmodeus looked at him with those eyes, the further away Solomon’s resolve slipped.

Finally he started to get up, “Alright, we can walk by the shoreline, but I’m not getting in the water.”

“Oh of course honey dearest,” the look Solomon received was absolutely devilish. He didn’t really expect anything less of his husband and oh he loved it. He loved everything about him and he knew he was whipped. But he didn’t care. Whatever spell Asmodeus had him under was strong and Solomon knew he could never bring himself to say no. He’d give the world to Asmo if he would only ask.

So there he was, closer to the ocean than he’d like to be, his hands interlocked with his husband as his ring glinted in the sunlight. The water was cold and clear and felt nice on his feet after walking down in the hot sand. Every now and again a tiny sand crab would quickly burrow below or a jellyfish would come close to washing up on the shore. Children made sand castles as their parents watched on and there was a group nearby laughing and playing with a frisbee. Seagulls and other seabirds stayed nearby, looking for the occasional stray fry or unattended sandwich.

Asmodeus had been right. This was wonderful.

He couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the week here with his wonderful husband. Solomon squeezed Asmo’s hand, running his thumb over the smooth skin of his hand. “Ah, I almost forgot. I promised you a house didn’t I?”

Asmo’s eyes sparkled when he turned to look at him. They’d been apartment hopping while Solomon finished up his last years of schooling. They’d talked about it ever since they’d gotten engaged. Well, Asmodeus gushed about it. He always said how he wanted to make a home with Solomon, how he wanted a large bathroom and a nice little studio to work on his designs. Solomon had played into it mentioning how he wouldn’t mind having an office space.

“You did.”

“I was so happy being here with you I almost forgot about it.”

“Solomon!”

“I’m kidding,” before he could get the words out, Asmodeus kicked some water his way. Well, of course this was unforgivable. Solomon bent over to splash water up at his husband. Then a war broke out. The two of them continued to throw water at each other, salt splashing on their lips and both becoming completely wet.

“I thought you said you weren’t getting in the water,” Asmodeus giggled as the two of them were waist deep in the ocean. However his giggles quickly turned into squeals as Solomon picked him up and threw them both into the water, his husband clung to him sputtering all the way until their knees could touch the sandy bottom.

“Of course that’s what I said but my husband makes me do crazy things,” he pecked his lips, feeling his cheeks heating up, “You know you ruined all of my perfectly planned out future?”

“Oh did I now?”

“Mmhm,” the two of them slowly made their way back far enough till they could sit on the beach, “I had everything pictured to a t, but then I fell in love with you, and now my future is even more wonderful than I could have ever planned.”

Solomon watched the tears pool at those pretty lashes and his pretty lips pucker out before Asmo lunged at him. The kiss was sweet and heartfelt, and Solomon could taste the salt water on him. The sun outlined him perfectly as he pulled away, and Solomon swore he was staring at an angel.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Solomon couldn’t have imagined a better future than the one he was in now, and he knew that it would only get better from here. Asmo kissed him once more and Solomon felt like he was soaring. When they pulled away Solomon knew he was smiling like an idiot.

“We’re going to make a home together.”

He wasn’t sure how planned the rest of their lives were going to be, but he did know that it would be perfect.

#request #kitto-katsuu #WBT #ruewrites #solodeus #asmodeus x solomon #asmosolo #soloasmo #human!au #friends to lovers #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me simeon

[estellaelysian]

Out on the Ranch

7:00

The sparkle of lights seemed to fade in the background as the wind blew, rustling the leaves and blowing like musical notes through the deep grove of trees. The lake glistened under the pure white moon, the water shifting, rippling against the silver sparkle of light. They crossed the pasture toward the fence line in a comfortable silence. Alishka studied the gentle rolling landscape, the undulations of the fence line as it rode the contours of the land and Ethan marveled at how different this place was from where he’d grown up. It occurred to him that he’d just come to appreciate the quiet, almost austere beauty of this landscape. In the distance, the pines and oaks scrabbled together, forming an impenetrable scrim of blackness. Behind them, the chatter of crickets emerged slowly into the night. Despite the darkness, she knew Ethan was stealing glances at her, and he was not being subtle about it.

She smiled. This side of him had been coming out more often, and it seemed to make him an entirely different person in itself. She wondered if he noticed it.

‘So how long has your cousin been married to John?’

‘Six. Seven this year.’

He nodded.

At first when Alaya had invited them over for the weekend, Alishka was sure how it’d go. She wasn’t even sure how Alaya had gotten Ethan to come along, because this was clearly planned in her absence, she had no hint of it until that morning, when they were leaving for the ranch.

‘Do you come here a lot?’ he asked her, pulling her out of her reverie.

‘No, not a lot these days,’ she answered. ‘Everything’s been too busy lately, and she is also settling in…’she trailed off, unsure what to say next.

As the trees densely crowded on his side, he moved closer, and she felt her stomach flutter. He, although, seemed visibly unfazed.

There’s a shortcut from the next fence,’ she said, barely even noticing the words falling from her lips. ‘Then we can get to the river and round from there to the main house.’

He nodded again, not knowing what else to say or do.

The faint murmur of the river was becoming more perceptible as they transversed the pasture in silence. He observed the dark trees huddled together in the distance, looking quite like a very still crowd observing them.

Soon, they had reached the next fence she had mentioned earlier.

‘Okay, so…’

‘We gotta jump over it,’ she said.

If he was surprised by that, he didn’t show. Instead he just nodded, and putting both hands on the top railing, gracefully hoped over.

‘Show off,’ she teased.

Then considered her options.

The slats were too narrowly placed for her to squeeze through, so she climbed up, perching at the top before swinging her legs over. She took his hands as she jumped down, liking their calloused warmth.

They came to a halt on the high bank. The river wasn’t wide, but he had the sense that the slow moving water was deeper than it appeared. Dragonflies flitted over the surface, breaking the stillness, causing tiny ripples that radiated to the edge. Beyond the river, in the dark shade of a gnarled oak tree, he noticed the remains of an old camp and an abandoned fire pit.

After they left the clearing by the river, they started back to the house, dried leaves crunching beneath their feet. The walk itself was leisurely, and none of them needing to talk.

As they neared the house, he noticed Cooper, Alaya and John’s Scottish terrier darting ahead toward the water bowl on the porch; he lapped at it between pants, then collapsed onto his belly.

‘He’s tired,’ he said, a smile escaping him unknowingly.

‘He’ll be fine. He follows John when he rides out every morning.’ She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘Would you like something to drink? I don’t know about you, but I could really use a beer. Unless you’d have some scotch with John- I don’t kn–’

‘Sounds great,’ he said, chuckling heartily at her confusion

‘Okay, I’ll be back in a minute.’

As she walked away, he studied her receding form. Who could’ve thought he’d be doing any of this? Who could make sense of it? He was still wondering about it when she emerged outside a minute later, a pair of ice cold bottles in her hands.

She handed him a bottle and they took a seat on the porch chairs. He leaned back and let out a long sigh before turning to face her.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know… you make all this seem interesting. A lot more interesting than it actually is.’

She tried her best to resist the smile that was forming but failed. ‘What are you talking about?’

He just kept looking at her intently before smiling. ‘Nothing.’

8:00

‘Come on, Ethan, I am starting up the grill. Wanna join me outside and let the ladies hang out?’

Ethan laughed. ‘Ofcourse.’

‘Honey, can you hand me the steaks? They are marinating in the fridge.’

‘Yeah,’ Alaya said. ‘Ethan, would you like some sun tea? I made it this afternoon.’

He smiled. It was hard to keep track of things in this confusion. Alaya and John were chaotic. Very friendly, welcoming and nice, but chaotic.

‘Yes to the sun tea, and I’ll wait outside for you, John,’ Ethan said finally. That way, it’d be easier for him too.

‘Okay, go on, I’ll join you in a minute,’ John said, moving around him toward the fridge.

Alishka flashed him a good luck sign before he stepped outside the door. Alaya poured in the tea in four cups as John pulled out the steaks. She moved back to the stove nd opened a jar of peas which Alishka guessed had come from the garden.

‘Can’t believe you have been hiding such a fine man, Alishka,’ she said, not even bothering to hide the smirk on her face.

‘Alaya!’ she hissed, but she either missed it, or ignored it completely.

‘He is so in love with you! Have you seen it?’

Alishka pretended to focus on her cup of tea.

‘Oh come on! Drop the act Alishka.’

‘Alaya, stop, will you?’

‘No, I won’t. I haven’t spoken for enough time as it is,’ she said with a wink.

Alishka shook her head. She had no idea how she was going to keep up with her cousin’s excited hosting.

8:30

Whatever the two women inside were talking about, Ethan was grateful he had excused himself from it, for it contained too many giggles, unexpected bursts of laughter, and a certain few hushed whispers as well. He took a sip of the sun tea as John prepared the grill.

‘Late dinners are usually Alaya’s thing,’ John said. ‘She loves them.’

Ethan chuckled. ‘It’s the same with Alishka.’

They fell into easy conversation. Ethan responded to most of the questions and filled in the whos, whats, whens and wheres in his life, though only in broad strokes. John did the same, and at the same time, shared some details about his life on the ranch. From what John had said, it was pretty clear that he and Alaya were interchangeable when it came to the tasks, though she mostly preferred to handle the indoors and book keeping while he did the outdoor works.

By that time, their mugs were almost empty. Ethan strode inside to get them refilled and found Alishka and Alaya talking at the table. It seemed they had finished cooking.

As they talked, John held up the grill top. Although it was charred black in places, it looked ready to go. he reached for a bag of charcoal and dumped some into a grill that looked way too old, using his hands to spread them out evenly. Then he added some lighter fluid, soaking each briquette for just a moment.

‘This grill looks … rather old,’ Ethan said uncertainly.

‘Yeah, it is here from my grandfathers time.’ Then, as if he had noticed Ethan’s skeptical expression, he went on: ‘I know there are better grills now, but I like to do it the way we did growing up. Besides, it tastes better this way. Cooking on those modern day grills is like cooking inside.’

Ethan nodded, although he couldn’t relate. ‘And you have promised us the best steaks we’ve ever had.’

‘That I have,’ he said with a hearty laugh.

They let the coals soak for a couple of minutes before he pulled out a box of matches from his pocket and lit the charcoals, stepping back when the flames shot up. The light breeze made the fire dance in circles.

John reached for the thick steak fillets which had been soaking in the brandy. He had already seasoned them with some salt, pepper and garlic powder.

‘Okay, this will be ready soon,’ he announced as the coals slowly turned white under the flames.

9:00

Alishka retrieved the plates and utensils and finished setting the table. Alaya diced tomatoes, cucumber and shredded the lettuce before tossing everything together in a brightly colored bowl just as Ethan and John returned with the steaks.

‘We need to let these sit for a couple of minutes,’ John said, taking off his hat, putting the platter of steaks on the table.

‘Perfect timing,’ Alaya said. ‘Let me just get the peas and potatoes in a bowl and dinner will be ready.’

‘So what were both of you talking about?’ John asked taking a seat. ‘It seemed pretty funny, for starters, amongst other things.’

‘It was nothing,’ Alishka said with a dismissive wave. ‘It was just Alaya being nosy about my life.’

‘Or, it was me being the cousin you always loved and told everything to.’

‘Oh you are not that fascinating,’ Alishka countered.

‘There’s always hope,’ John quipped, making everyone laugh.

Dinner passed easily, punctuated by laughter and stories. Outside, the moon rose even higher in the sky, making it blush with a lovely mix of light clouds and stars.

10:00

Once they were done with the dishes, Alaya nudged Alishka in the ribs by her elbow.

‘What?’ she asked, setting aside the cloth she had been using to wipe the dishes dry.

‘Both of you should go riding tomorrow.’

For a moment, she just stared at her cousin, stunned. ‘You are kidding,’ she finally said.

‘I am not. Come on, you don’t come down here a lot these days, do you? So maybe you could just go riding tomorrow, have some fun and everything. We’ve got three horses, so it won’t even be a problem.’

‘What about John? What about all the chores – I-’

‘You don’t worry about that. He’ll finish work by one, then you both can go riding. It’ll be fun, trust me.’

‘Uh…’

Before she could stop her, she marched past her into the living room where John and Ethan sat talking.

‘Dr. Ramsey,’ Alaya said brightly.

Behind her, Alishka tensed visibly.

‘I was just telling Alishka about how beautiful the weather is these days, and how amazing it would be to ride in such fine weather.’

No.

‘I think you both should do it tomorrow.’

*********

This is me ignoring canon and creating worlds of my own while I am gone. Part two coming soon.

Thank you all for your lovely support and for reading, love you.

Taglist: Let me know if you want to be added or removed

#ethan ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #ethanramsey #openheart #choices #fanfiction

[letsperaltiago]

right next to the right one

Nothing special but here is a small, 100% fluff moment from very early Peraltiago. I imagined it taking place somewhere in between ‘New Captain’ and ‘The funeral’. Enjoy 💕

Read on AO3

It’s their first night together – or, more like, the first night they go to bed together without ripping each other’s clothes off in the heat and heaviness caused by four drinks.

They’re at Amy’s place this time. Jake is nervously fiddling around her bedroom trying to get ready for bed without interrupting or getting in the way of whatever punctual night routine Amy Santiago must have. They did just have their first date a few days ago, and maybe there are a lot of sides to her that he hasn’t met yet; although it doesn’t take a genius to know that surely Amy has some kind of step-by-step pattern she walks through before heading to bed.

Or that’s what he thinks. Suddenly she reemerges from the bathroom, only five minutes after first leaving the bedroom, and looks completely calm and ready for bed. Not freaked out because she’s running behind schedule or missing steps. No kind of ritual seems to be playing out and Jake has to admit to himself: he’s slightly confused.

“That was fast?” Jake quizzes from where he’s standing by the foot of her bed still dressed like he’s about to leave and Amy frowns. Both because of the statement, which sounds more like a question, but also because she thought he too would be ready for bed by now.

“You sound confused? I just removed my makeup and brushed my teeth – it doesn’t take that long.” She cocks her eyebrows telling him that no, not all women spend an hour in the bathroom… Jake feels bad for questioning her, and all women out there, but is quickly interrupted by her picking up on him being far from ready for bed.

“But why are you still dressed? Get in bed, silly!” She chuckles and gets into bed on what he assumes is her usual side. He secretly hopes that one day the other side will become his. Too soon, he thinks and shakes it off. One step at a time.

Jake contemplates whether or not he should explain himself but quickly figures that it doesn’t matter. Her lack of strict routine just tells him that she’s relaxed in her own home, around him, and that he likes - a lot. Also, Amy looks really cute in nothing but an oversized NYPD-shirt and panties.

“Oh, yeah sorry. Just didn’t know where to put my stuff and I didn’t want to like…” he shuffles nervously to the free side of the bed, probably looking stupid, and he hates that he’s so nervous. By no means does he want her to notice; maybe think she’s the one making him nervous. Actually he just likes her so stupid much that he’d rather stand there and look stupid than mess up her room or do something else that’ll give him away; do something that’ll let her know he isn’t the one for her. “… I didn’t want to Jake up your room.”

She’s just gotten under the covers, sitting against the headboard with her current book in her lap, but seems to forget about it and suddenly freeze on the spot with her eyes on him. Not in an accusing way or with an expression that lets him know he needs to leave; rather a look of warmth and appreciation… Maybe even a hint of amusement. Then she crawls across the bed to his side and stands on her knees.

“Jake…” she grabs him by the hoodie and pulls him in so that he stands as close to her as the edge of the bed will allow. Everything she says comes out with a special warmth radiating from her lips and eyes, something he’s only ever seen in her. “I appreciate the thought, but… You’ve already Jake’d up my life so a little Jake’ing up my bedroom won’t hurt me. Okay?”

The way the words fall from her lips, full of calmness and serenity, has him pacified without delay. The soft peck to his lips radiates a welcoming feeling Jake can’t deny. Confidence slowly seeps back into him, and he finally feels as if he can answer her searching, soft brown eyes.

“Okay,” he’s finally able to let down his shoulders, his overall guard, and return her smile with a matching radiation of serenity and calmness.

It’s so stupid how much he likes her, he thinks. It partially scares him although never enough to chase him away. Before he even has the time to realize it, as if it’s second nature to him, he rids himself of his clothes. Few minutes later his outfit is, somewhat, neatly hanging on a chair nearby. He smiles sheepishly and Amy chuckles, nodding in approval: perhaps he’s not too bad at this after all, he thinks and falls into Amy Santiago’s bed.

Everything is so brand new to the both of them yet quickly falls into a rhythm that feels normal: everything from Amy reading her book by his side to the way the Jake’s late night cartoon’s flicker in the background without bothering her.

Amy feels it too. The normality of the new them. For the past few days they’ve been together, Amy’s already wondered many times: how? She puts down her book and lies down on her side to get a better look at his side profile.

She can’t tell if the cartoons that deserve credit for calming him down, causing him to zone out of reality, but Amy enjoys this side of Jake. The Jake that is just… there. With her.

She wonders, after going through what they both went through to get to each other, how she got so lucky? Suddenly, very out of nowhere, she finds herself fully focused on the mand beside her and something feels just a tad different. All night she’d felt so nonchalant, so easy going about him being around, that it didn’t occur to her just how lucky she is and now she can’t stop wondering, over and over, how? How is he here after all their ups and down, exes, friend zones and whatnot?  

“Hey.”

It falls out of her before she can comprehend it or try to stop it, and as soon as his head calmly turns to look at her Amy knows she has to carry through with this. The shifting colorful light from the TV casts a warm shadow on the side of his face that is turned away from it, and Amy halts for a second taking in the sight in front of her. The man by her side is so gently, so easily tuned in to her and the flickering lights enhances all of her favorite facial features. Features she can kiss now, whether she believes it or not, and features she gets to run her hands and fingers along if she wishes to.

“Hey,” he answers with a soft smile inviting her to speak her mind, because of all people, Amy Santiago alwayshas an agenda. Jake knows.

In contrast to how ready she felt just seconds ago, she all of the sudden, now that the first word is out and the attention is on her, feels so shy. Probably has furiously blushing cheeks too. Knowing Jake, he’s probably already noticed.

“What’s up?” he tries.

Amy considers not speaking her mind, instead just joke it off like they often do. Most of the time that’s a fine solution… But this moment, for some reason, feels more important. Like it’s not supposed to be brushed off. Amy genuinely has some things on her mind.

“I just,” she cuts herself off nervously biting down on her bottom lip. “I just can’t believe we’re here… Like, together.”

If her blush wasn’t very evident before then it definitely is now, and she has to look away from him just to keep calm. His eyes, especially with the soft look he has right now, all of the sudden seems so overwhelming. In the good way. The scary way too. Just a year ago she would’ve never believed anyone telling her that Jake Peralta would come to make her feel this way.

“I know.” Jake chuckles and Amy dares to look back at him. He’s looking straight ahead again but this time not at the TV, she can tell. He looks deep in thought, smiling, and Amy feels less scared. If the man of a thousand issues is smiling at the thought of them (she hopes) then everything is probably alright.

“Like even after everything that’s come between us, constantly demotivating the process like… wrong timing, being undercover, Sophia, Teddy…” she trails off realizing just how many odds have been against them for the past two years or so.

He slowly nods in agreement still staring into air with a small smile on his face as if he’s seeing something she isn’t.

“Yeah… To me, the whole thing with Teddy was never that demotivating though. On the contrary.”

Amy’s eyebrows dip into a confused frown.

“Really.” Jake finally turns his head to look at her and the flickering lights make him look that more handsome, like in a movie scene, all over again. She loves when he looks at her, even if it’s just been a few days. If Jake was the last person to ever look at her, just like he is right now, she would die happy. Somehow it feels like he’s done it for longer – maybe he has and she just hasn’t noticed?

“This is going to sound super dumb, but every time I saw you with him I was bummed out, yes, but it also made me even more sure: I wanted to be the one to be with you. I wanted all the small moments he got with you… Like siting at Shaw’s making you smile and laugh while drinking beer; competing with you about dumb stuff that only we care about and everyone rolls their eyes at us; picking you up from work – even though we literally sit across from each other, I now realize as I’m saying it out loud.”

They both chuckle in unison but on the inside they both feel their hearts burst with joy at this small confession. Silence, a comfortable one, takes over. Amy sees his face switch to the one he always put on when he’s being serious and genuine. Her heart skips yet another beat.

”I guess I kinda always knew I wanted be where he was standing, you know? Next to you. Holding your hand even, if I was really lucky.” He chuckles but so softly that Amy can tell he’s still being serious.

Amy nods, entranced, and if it wasn’t for what said next then the moment definitely would’ve been a fully and completely soft moment - alike nothing she’d ever witnessed Jake Peralta in before. The man beside her is nervously fiddling with his fingers and she can tell Jake has crossed some emotional boundaries with this confession tonight. Which is also why she doesn’t comment on it when he flees the intensity of the romantic moment with a joking remark.

“And if that isn’t motivation for ya then I don’t know what is.” His voice switches to the goofy tone he speaks in most of the time and soft Jake slowly fades away, into fun Jake with his still tall walls up. Although Amy knows he means every word he’s just said. That is enough for her; enough to keep her cheeks blushing and lips in the shape of a moved smile. Enough to keep her around for what feels like will be a long time.

“Well…” she scoots over to his side of the bed and pulls his head down to press a playful kiss to his cheek, like a schoolgirl would to her crush, and it’s Jake’s turn to blush. She pulls back but stays close, turns his head with her hand bringing them nose to nose. She’s still blushing but she doesn’t care. He can see her colors - all of them.  

“Here you are, Peralta. And it feels so much better having you here.”

#peraltiago #jake and amy #jake x amy #amy santiago #jake peralta #peralta #sanitago #fluff #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #Brooklyn nine nine #fanfic #oneshot #fanfiction

[mst3kproject]

The Phantom from 10 000 Leagues

I found this movie online while looking for From Hell It Came (which I haven’t yet found – someday I will and then you’ll all be sorry) and it looked bad, so I checked out the details.  Turns out it stars Kent Taylor from The Crawling Hand, Cathy Downs from The Amazing Colossal Man, and was written by Lou Rusoff, who was behind It Conquered the World, The She-Creature, and… oh god, he also wrote Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow.  This is gonna suck goat nads.  I must watch it right away.

You shouldn’t picture me groaning when I write stuff like that, by the way.  You should picture me giggling like a maniac and rubbing my hands together with glee.

A monster is killing people at sea near an incredibly bleak and depressing California college town, and the bodies and wrecked boats it leaves in its wake are scorched by radioactivity! Washington sends Agent Grant to find out what’s going on, and he soon discovers that the Pacific College of Oceanography is positively overflowing with suspicious characters.  There’s the reclusive and paranoid Professor King, who is working on weird experiments in his locked laboratory.  There’s King’s assistant George, who follows him around and hides in the bushes to watch what he’s doing.  King’s secretary Ethel blames the professor for the death of her son and wants revenge, and George’s girlfriend Wanda is a foreign agent.  Not to mention the visiting Dr. Stevens, a radiation expert with an unsettling habit of turning up just in time to discover the bodies.  Someone among this motley crew has created a sea monster… and someone else is planning to sell it to the highest bidder!

You know how some movies save their monsters until the last minute, in order to build suspense?  Or because what we imagine is always scarier than what we actually see?  Or because the monster sucks and they’re ashamed of it?  Or some combination of the above?

Phantom from 10 000 Leagues is not one of those movies.  Before we’re even a full minute into it, the monster has appeared on screen in all its ridiculous glory.  Stevens calls it a hideous beast that defies description but I think I can make an attempt.  It looks sort of like the lovechild of a saber-toothed tiger and the Horror of Party Beach.  There’s a ridge down its head and back like an iguana and a poorly-camouflaged window in its neck so the dude inside can see what he’s doing.  The whole costume is also rather buoyant, and the actor is having to work hard to stay underwater.  Sadly, this beast remains lurking in the depths and never shambles out onto the beach to menace sunbathers, which is the only thing it would have needed to make it a perfect bad movie monster.

The creature is not the only nuclear threat in this movie… or even the silliest one!  During an investigatory dive, Stevens discovers a glowing patch on the seafloor which he says represents an ‘activated’ uranium deposit with the potential to form a naturally-occurring death ray!  We finally get to see this in action when stock footage of a ship passes over it – and turns into a different ship that immediately blows up! I’m just sad this only happens once. The glowing stone itself is represented by a mirror with a light shining on it in underwater shots, and by the reflection of the sun when seen from the surface.

So the effects are not special and make an already silly threat even more hilarious.  What about the story?  Like all cheap monster movies, the focus of The Phantom from 10 000 Leagues is not the creature killing people but the investigation into it.  There’s a large number of potential monster-makers here, which could have made the movie a bit messy – but by the time the words The End appear, we know who all these people are, how they’re involved, and what they hope to accomplish.  Even the women are given distinct motivations and personalities, although those fall neatly into the ‘maiden, mother and whore’ tropes I’ve discussed in the past. The dialogue is not exactly subtle, but it seems like I can’t wholly blame Lou Rousoff for Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow.

It’s also nice that, despite the preponderance of White Men In Suits (Stevens and Grant both walk along the beach in suits and ties at all hours of the day and night), the characters all look different enough that I can tell them apart!  None of the cast are great actors, with a lot of stilted or awkward line deliveries, but then, a lot of the things they’re saying are completely ridiculous, so I probably can’t lay that entirely at their feet.

Unfortunately, the plot of Phantom From 10 000 Leagues is rather unfocused, and like so many of these films it’s not sure who its main character is.  It seems like either Agent Grant or Dr. Stevens, who are each conducting some kind of investigation into the goings-on, ought to be the protagonist… but both are introduced in contexts that make them seem potentially suspicious.  Dr. Stevens is actually significantly more suspicious than Grant, because when he first turns up he gives a fake name, and later proves to have actually performed experiments with mutating sea life in the past.  Yet for much of the movie, it’s Stevens we’re watching, as he cozies up to Professor King and flirts with King’s daughter Lois.  He actually gets far more screen time than Grant, with the latter sometimes being out of the movie for long enough that the audience kind of forgets he’s there.

Stevens and Lois’ love story is, as is probably inevitable for a movie of this kind, completely bland.  Kent Taylor and Cathy Downs have no appreciable spark between them, and one gets the uncomfortable impression that he’s about twice her age. The movie never offers even an approximate age for either character, but Lois is still unmarried and living with her father, which in the 1950s suggests she’s in her early twenties.  King describes Stevens as a ‘young man’ but between his appearance and his impressive academic credentials he’s obviously not, and when I looked up the actors I learned that Taylor was forty-eight when The Phantom from 10 000 Leagues was made, while Downs was twenty-nine.  That’s… well, they’re both adults, but he’s still old enough to be her father, and the younger we assume they both are, the worse the two decade gap gets.

Once we actually get to know the characters, the solution to the mysteries is fairly obvious, but this lets us spend some actual time with these men and find out what they think about the situation.  Stevens, who’s been down this road before, wants these terrible experiments to stop before any more people get hurt.  King, hearing about it for the first time, is more excited about what he might be able to learn by building on Stevens’ work. This represents an interesting inversion because if you’ll recall, King is supposed to be significantly older than Stevens (though actor Michael Whelan was actually born only five years before Taylor).

Usually knowledge and wisdom are both associated with age.  This is a very old trope and has some fairly sound logic behind it: the elderly have had longer to learn and to experience.  In Phantom from 10 000 Leagues, however, we have the older Professor King excited by the ground-breaking discoveries made by a younger scientist and wanting to learn more about them, even when the (supposedly) younger Stevens warns him about Tampering in God’s Domain.  Each assumes the role their ages might make us expect of the other.

This is reflected in their respective fields: depending on how you define it, oceanography is as old as mankind.  Humanity has been mapping the seas for as long as we’ve known how to sail across them, and marveling at the monsters we pull from its depths for as long as we’ve been catching fish.  That is the Professor King’s domain. Stevens, on the other hand, is a specifically nuclear scientist. Nuclear physics technically begins with the discovery of radioactivity in the 1890’s, but it seemed like a new and scary field in the 1950s, as the development of atomic weapons forced scientists to take a closer look at the phenomenon’s effect on living tissues. To King, who is an expert in another field, the possibilities of this relatively new work outweigh the potential consequences.

As sloppy and poorly-made as Phantom from 10 000 Leagues can be, this contrast between Stevens and King does make it a movie with something to say.  It of course has the standard moral for a fifties atomic monster piece, about paths science is not meant to tread, but it also wants us to think about that connection between age and wisdom.  On the one hand, King’s interest in Stevens’ work tells us that you’re never too old to learn something new.  On the other, just because somebody is young doesn’t mean they have nothing to teach. If King had taken in Stevens’ wisdom along with his knowledge, a lot of suffering need not have happened.

Even if you’re not into that, the crappy monster, the bad acting, the ridiculous science, and all the sneaking around and backstabbing that goes on makes Phantom from 10 000 Leagues plenty of fun watch.  It’s much like Beginning of the End in that it ticks all the MST3K boxes, while remaining coherent enough that you can enjoy the actual story along with the badness.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #phantom from 10000 leagues #it's beginning to look a lot like fishmen #50s

[wavesmp3]

the sea is yours to take

pairing: wen junhui x fem!reader genre: royalty au, high fantasy, romance, slow burn   warnings: mentions of death, violence (but it’s usually friendly) wc: 36k (it’s so long, i know, i’m sorry)

synopsis: The Seven Sins and the Seven Gifts of the Spirit are warriors, exceptionally skilled in fighting, and they’re all dead. That is, all except you, The Gift of Fortitude. It’s an uneasy time in the kingdom with eastern Lords and northern bandits threatening a rebellion. You feel that it’s your duty to try and maintain peace within the kingdom. But when the King sends you away for an act of treason, you aren’t sure how much you can do so far away from home. And it certainly doesn’t help that Jun, the southern Lord of the estate you’ve been sent to, seems to hate your guts.   a/n: this is so long, and the beginning is kind of slow but like, i think it’d be pretty dope if you were to stick it out just sayin

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Lady Gift,” the words rush out of the servant’s mouth, you hum allowing him to continue, “The King asks of your presence.”

“Very well then. Tell him I’m him coming,”

And as soon as the servant had entered the equipment room, he leaves as well. Out of fear. Out of urgency. Perhaps out of both. You had assumed it was only a matter of time until the King would call for you. Afterall, murdering one of his most trusted lords who’s also a member of his council is not a crime that goes undiscussed.

You look around the training room. The walls are adorned with swords, daggers and knives. Some of your own and some of belonging to the Golden Palace. You grab a dagger off the wall and push it in your boot. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared in the case anything was to happen.

You walk along the walls, dragging out the time before your presence with the King. Your eyes and feet stop when you come across a sword, one that was gifted to you by the youngest prince himself. You take it off the wall, testing the balance of the sword in your hand. The sword is beautiful, a gold blade that shines with the brightness of the Zalazar River. The hilt of the sword is a piece of art more than it’s a handle. You think that the hilt should be gawked at in a museum instead of collecting dust at the end of a sword. Two figures emerge from the black stone of the hilt. As if they were trapped inside the stone before the maker carved them out. As if they would have been lost in the fog of the black stone if the maker hadn’t given them air to breathe. You turn the hilt and study it carefully. Prince Seungkwan had requested the maker carve out one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit and one of the Seven Sins. Specifically, Prince Seungkwan asked for you, the Gift of Fortitude. As for the Sin, the maker chose to bring the Sin of Greed to life. You aren’t exactly sure how he did considering there are no pictures or paintings of the Sins and Gifts apart from the sculptures in the southern temples. Even then, you’re sure most of the sanctuaries that housed the sculptures were destroyed long ago. Nonetheless, the Sin of Greed emerges from the other side of the stone, and in some way the Sin of Greed looks familiar to you despite having never known Greed. Prince Seungkwan had excitedly gifted this to you and explained in great detail the trouble he went through to get it done. At the time, Seungkwan had been much younger and things had been so much simpler. You wonder what Seungkwan would say to you now. The thought tastes bitter in your mind.

“Did you hear that the King is waiting for you?” The familiar tones of his voice crash over you like a wave. The corners of your mouth lift.

You put the sword back carefully. “Yes, it has come to my attention,” you say as if it’s an afterthought, in a sense it is.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I guess the King will have to wait his turn.”

You rush to Hansol and embrace him in a long hug. You can feel the longing in his arms. It warms your heart.

“I’ve missed you dearly, Hansol.”

He grins. “I as well.”

“So much has changed since you’ve been gone.” You tell him seriously, reminded of the King you’ve kept waiting.

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

“Yes, everything,” he says into your hair. The next part he whispers. “So, tell me, what warrants you murdering Lord Mark.”

Instead of answering, you pull away. “I’m afraid I must go. The King has asked for my presence.”

Hansol’s eyes flash with a certain color of betrayal that prods at the tender parts of your heart. It pains you to see the tired bags under his eyes and the droop of his lips. You assume your face mirrors something close to his.

“Like I said, a lot has changed here Hansol.”

“It’s actually…” he pauses, a small smile appearing on his face, “it’s actually Captain Hansol now.”

“Oh.” You say simply. “Well congratulations Captain Hansol. The Knights of the Holy Order are lucky to have someone as gifted as you.”

“Thank you. I learned from the best.” He smiles boyishly.

“That you did.”

You’re reminded of the lifetime before his enrollment in the army, the Knights of the Holy Order. The memory makes you sad. Despite the bleached shade to his brown hair and the dimness in his usually light eyes, it hadn’t occurred to you that perhaps a lot had changed for him too.

You’re both quiet for a moment. Until he asks, “Now about Seungkwan-”

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JUN—

Jun rolls out the knots in his neck and tries to stretch out the ones forming in his back. The two day journey north to the King’s City was taking longer than expected. Unlike his father, Jun was not one for traveling. To Jun nothing seemed particularly glamorous about the reality of riding on horseback for days and nights on end. Jun was much too content with staying by the sea at the estate which Jun called home. There, at his estate, the town was self-governed and quiet. There Jun felt peace. Here, on his horse's saddle finally reaching a clearing in the woods, Jun feels most notably irritable (although boredom and tire are a close second). Here, faced with the reality of traveling, Jun understands even less why his father and Captain Wonwoo put up with it. 

“We are approaching the Zalazar River," the first guard calls from the front of the party. 

"Lord Jun," Wonwoo says riding up from the rear, "I think you'll like this." 

And of course, Wonwoo is right. Jun has heard the tales about the Zalazar River. Tales of a river so deep that submarines could easily ride along the current without ever being detected. Tales of a river whose color is so magnificent it changes with the seasons. Tales of a river which seems to take flight and disappear into the eastern mountains. And although Jun has yet to see the latter tale, Wonwoo is right; Jun loves the abyss that is the Zalazar River. 

"It's beautiful," is the only thing Jun can think to say at the sight of the deep purple river. 

"Yes," Wonwoo hums, "it's wonderful isn't it. I myself am partial to the yellows and dark reds of late fall. But you'll come to see how blissful the King's City looks even during this season." 

"Ah, the Golden Palace," Jun mutters, gripping the reins of his horse tightly, "I'm sure spring does the city well." 

"It does." Wonwoo says simply looking out towards the river as the horses step onto the Bronze Bridge. Wonwoo must sense Jun's discomfort because the next part he says with hesitation. "Lord Jun, I think this trip will be good for you. It's time you come to see the King's City and the Golden Palace as more than just the place your father died. It's time you stop resenting it."  

And with that, the rest of the Zalazar River is crossed in silence. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You approach the doors to the throne room alone and with heavy footsteps. You stop in front of the door, a feeing resembling fear crawling up your spine and wrapping around your neck. You shake the feeling away and remind yourself that you are the Gift of Fortitude with abilities and powers unmatched by even the best among the Knights of the Holy Order. The King and his council were only one of many regimes you have seen, that you have lived through. Without you, the King was nothing. You have nothing to fret. Yet still, something about the air in the corridor and the dagger in your boot makes you nervous. Something about the life of a Lord who was only following orders from the King makes you shiver. 

Regardless, you nod at the guard of the throne room, and he opens the door, announcing your presence to the room anyways. As you enter the room, you think the King has outdone himself this time. Archers line the perimeter of the room, tucked away in the balconies and presumably safe from you. The throne room usually hosts a party of six guards, but today, you count twenty swordsmen lined along the carpet, and skilled ones at that. You swallow a laugh at the dagger clinking against your ankles. Perhaps you should’ve slipped a knife under your skirt as well. But either way, you’re confident in your skills. If this broke out into a fight, you against the guards and archers, you would prevail. But to spare the boys and girls who stand around you, shaking in their armor, you would do everything in your power to avoid that.

“Gift,” the King calls to you from across the throne room, “do you know why you’re here?” The King has a smile as he asks it, knowing that for the first time in his rule, he has the upper hand over you. Hell, this is the first time since the rule of King Jeonghan that any King has had power over you.

You nod, observing the assembly the King has gathered for your presence, apart from the soldiers. On the first platform at the end of the throne room, six seats are laid out for the six men and women of the King’s council. Two of the council seats remain empty while the other four house council members sitting still fear. Fear directed towards you. You assume that if they weren’t so scared of you and your ability, they would slouch in their seats with indifference. You’ve never taken a liking to the King’s council anyways. On the next raised platform behind the council seats, are the thrones of the King and his Princes. Prince Soonyoung’s throne, to the left of the King’s, is empty. The sight makes you worry. As the inner court likes to say, the eldest son had ‘left’ the Golden Palace and the King’s City at the end of winter. You have yet to hear any word from Soonyoung and can only pray to the Gods that his plans are going well. Prince Seokmin, the second prince, sits on the right of his father. The prince had only just returned from his campaign in the east that previous night, but despite the tire evident in Seokmin’s face, he smiles sympathetically at you. Next to Seokmin is Prince Seungkwan who avoids your eyes so easily, in a way only the youngest prince is capable of. His lips are all but a tight line on his face, and he grips the arm of his throne hard, his knuckles turning white. And just for the slightest of moments, Seungkwan meets your eyes, but as quickly as they're brought up to you face, he rips his gaze away. Despite that, you still manage to catch the dark shade of hurt and heartbreak that swims within his eyes. And it manages to replace all of your previous nerves with a familiar shade of hurt and a different one of guilt. Guilt for hurting Seungkwan the way you did, the way you had to. You push away the thoughts and memories and refocus on the problem at hand.

The King, differently from the others in the room, sits up straight and attentive. His smile taunts you like a dog, holding your freedom above your nose as you jump through hoops for him. You hate the man that sits before you. His throne is flashier, his rings are bigger, and his profits are lower. He is reckless and foolish. He doesn't understand the teetering balance of his own kingdom, of his entire world. He seeks out matters he doesn't understand and toys with those that should not be disturbed. And above all, the man seated before you should have never inherited the crown.

"Yes Lord King," you say, finally answering his question. "I know why you have asked for me today. Although, you need not ask such useless questions." You pause for a moment, your next words simmering on the tip of your tongue. "I miss your father for that reason, he wasn't so persistently foolish." 

The King scowls, and the council members roll their eyes while both of the present princes hide snickers. 

"You should be more mindful of the treason that leaves your mouth, Gift." The King tells you, his confidence dented but his smile as evil as ever. "The blood of one of my most trusted Lords stains your hands, and if you continue such pathetic, pointless defiance, your blood will stain the floors of this room."

You hum. "Perhaps, but you underestimate me, Lord King, greatly. And if you think you know the extent of my skill, then let me say that for the entirety of your small life, you have never seen me fight with the intention to kill. If the men and women you have assembled for me attack, you will be sitting over their dead bodies."

“And then what? You’ll have taken the lives of even more innocent people.” And at this you falter. At this, you’re forced to give the King credit because he knows where to land his blows. He knows how to keep your freedom so close you can smell it, but still far enough so that you can’t have it. But you gulp down your guilt and continue regardless.

"I have killed more men in my life then you know in yours. I will live just as I do now." And despite the conviction with which you say it, you know the King is not fooled by your empty words. You meet Seokmin's eyes, and he nods. You take it as a vote of confidence. "Either way Lord King, I pay you no debt. I owe you nothing. My own disdain for traveling is the only thing keeping me at your court." 

"Yes, that may be the case," the King chuckles rubbing his ring clad knuckles against his chin, "so then leave, Gift. Leave this court and never return." 

The breath is knocked out of your lungs. This, you did not expect. 

"Father, you can't-" Seungkwan blurts, standing up from his throne staring sadly at you. He shakes his head, attempting to cover his own selfish intent with reason. "Father, we need the Gift of Fortitude. Your hold on this kingdom is weak without her power. If you lose Fortitude, you risk losing the kingdom." 

“Eh,” one of the female council members speaks up, looking less afraid of you now, “let the Gift of Fortitude go. A monster like her has no business in a King’s court.”

The words strike you across the cheek, specifically the word ‘monster’. 

“You!” Seungkwan shouts at the council member, rage contorting his face. “How dare—"

Seokmin cuts Seungkwan off, before he can rampage further. "Father, Seungkwan is right. I've met with the Lords in the far east. The failure of the west harvest this season has made them restless. If it weren't for Fortitude, a rebellion from the east would be an even more pressing issue than it already is." Seokmin's eyes are in a panic, the previous tire eradicated from his face. "Think rationally father."

"I am thinking rationally!" The King booms, sending your gut straight to your throat and the princes back to their thrones. The council members sit motionless once again. Perhaps out of fear of the King this time as well. "But if the Gift of Fortitude does not wish to be banished from this court, then so be it." You exhale. "However, I will not have you and your treason-filled mouth infiltrating my court." The King spares a seething glare at Soonyoung's empty throne. "You will still be a member of this court, but you will not stay at the Golden Palace until I permit your return. Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo from the southern lands are on their way to the Golden Palace as we speak. They are to arrive later today."  The name Jun sounds familiar, but you can't quite recall where you’ve heard it before. "You will live out your sentence there, at his estate." And then it hits you. You had heard of Lord Jun’s name before. Jun’s father was a regular visitor to the Golden Palace before he fell sick and died in the palace infirmaries several years ago. 

 “But—” Seungkwan begins before his father cuts him off.

"And if you refuse, then I will personally see to the completion of the act you murdered Lord Mark to prevent."

You know now, with the King’s final threat, that you must hold out on your freedom. Even if the King’s threat is a bluff, the risk of it alone takes priority. With one last deep exhale, you conform.

You spare the princes’ thrones one last glance before reaching into your boot and dropping the dagger you had tucked inside. The dagger hits the stone floor with an obnoxious clatter. The sound of your acceptance echoes throughout the walls hauntingly. You exit the throne room and head straight to your personal quarters without another word.

***

You weep for hours and hours. You weep for this kingdom. You weep for Seungkwan, for Hansol, for Seokmin, for Soonyoung. You weep for the King and his foolishness. You weep for the power of the Gifts that had been bestowed upon you all those years ago, and for the sheer fact that you are a Gift despite never asking for it. But most of all, you weep for the freedom you can’t have as long as the current king lives.

You weep until you’re sure you can’t have any tears left to shed. You weep until you feel dead.

That night, you have dinner in your dining room with Prince Seokmin. He tells you about his recent campaigns, his successes and losses. He spends a little too long telling you about the daughter of one of the better eastern lords. He smiles as he mentions her, playing absentmindedly with his food. 

"I was starting to wonder why you were taking so many trips to the east." You say with a playful smile that feels foreign on your lips. "Do you intend to marry her Seokmin?" 

A blush creeps onto his cheeks as his eyes meet yours in shock. "No, no," he shakes his head vigorously, "it isn't like that." But then as he pokes a carrot with his fork, Seokmin's lips turn down in a frown. "I can't imagine someone who distrusts the monarchy so much even considering a prince anyways."

You hum, recognizing the lingering in his movements and the longing in his voice as something particular to youth, something hidden in your own memories, and something you beg to forget. You swallow your thoughts down and focus on comforting the boy in front of you.

"I'm sure that's not something a few more trips to the east can't change, Seokmin. Afterall, you are known for your persuasive nature." He snorts. "It also helps that no one distrusts the monarchy more than the members of it. Perhaps if the lady were to know of your true intentions, then you wouldn't think it so bizarre to ask for her hand. I'm afraid you underestimate how many women would love to be a princess, even to a palace like this." 

He smiles again, “Thank you."  He pushes the carrot into his mouth.

Dinner continues in a comfortable silence, the only ambiance being the crackling of torches along the wall and the fire in the hearth. Seokmin pauses for a second swallowing his food carefully. Then he looks over at you tentatively before opening his mouth to speak. You cut him off before he gets the chance.

"Seokmin please, I don't need your pity." 

He chuckles and murmurs something you don't exactly catch. "I was just going to say that I've been to Lord Jun's holding. You'll come to see just how beautiful and picturesque the south is, and I think you'll take a liking to Captain Wonwoo." You vaguely knew of Captain Wonwoo. He was a Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order, second only to the Commander, but retired at a young age. Lord Jun on the other hand was a complete mystery to you. You knew nothing of him only that he was from the south and that he was his father’s son. 

"Have you ever seen the sea?" Seokmin asks. You shake your head. "Well if you're standing by the shore, the water of the sea continues on into the horizon for what seems like forever. The water stretches so far out and in all directions. From the shore, it appears like if you travelled far out enough, you'd fall off the edge of the world-"

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

"Yes, but it doesn't compare to the real thing. The sea," he trails off, a dazed off look in his eyes, "is something else entirely." 

You can’t help but smile at the bliss Seokmin radiates at the mere thought of the sea. “I guess I’ll be seeing for myself soon enough.” You think the world could use a few more like Seokmin. Even in the darkest of moments, he remains a ray of light. “You remind me so much of your grandfather, Seokmin.”

His eyebrows rise, and then a saddened look crosses his eyes. "He's always talked to highly of, even by the eastern Lords. But what was he like?" 

You hesitate, thinking back to the times before you had returned to the Golden Palace. "Perhaps not as clever as your father. But kind and empathetic. He possessed a certain understanding of this kingdom although at times, he could be impulsive. At the end of the day, your grandfather was a good king, and you've managed to inherit all his best traits." 

"Were you close to him?" 

"No, not while he was king. At that time, I wasn't closely involved with the King's court. I only returned because of your mother." There's another silence. Fortitude spends it immersed in her memories.

Finally, Seokmin speaks. “Do me a favor and enjoy the sea.”

He stands up and presses a kiss to your forehead in goodbye. Then he leaves the dining rooms, sending in a servant to clean up your dinner. 

***

There’s a knock on your bedroom doors later that night. You’re sitting in front of the fire with your knees pulled up against your chest when it happens.

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

"It's me." You recognize his voice immediately. And if it weren't for the hours you spent weeping this morning, you probably would've cried at the sound of his voice alone. You didn’t expect Seungkwan to come and bid you farewell, but somehow the fact that he does makes it all the more real. 

You push yourself off the rug and move towards the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob, but after another thought, you drop your hand, deciding to make due with conversation through the door.

“Yes, Seungkwan,” you call through the door, “what is it?”

You listen as he stumbles over his words for a second before falling silent. When his voice resurfaces, it’s small and scattered. “Do you hate me so much as to not open the door?”

You sigh. In a loud and exaggerated way so that you know he hears it. Seungkwan means well. Deep down, you know so much. But his words are a paint brush coloring a lousy shade of blame all over you; as if any of the issues that have come between you two is your fault. You suppose if you tried confronting him again, he would try to tell you that it is. “Prince Seungkwan, have at least enough dignity to recognize that I’m doing this for you.”

He exhales harshly in acceptance. You settle for it. There’s more silence, and after a few minutes, you begin to think that he’s left. But when he speaks up again, he proves you wrong. “Seokmin was saying how he reminds you of our grandfather.”

You inhale sharply. Conversing with Seungkwan had come to this point. To the point where you both had to speak lightly and with low voices as to not anger each  other. To the point where you both had to tiptoe around topics as to not bring up something the other did not wish to speak of. To the point where you couldn't even talk about what mattered. 

“Indeed, he does.” 

“Then…” Seungkwan hesitates. You hear a small tap on the door, “do I remind you of anyone?”

You smile. His question reminded you of a time before his confession, of a time when conversation with Seungkwan was simple and delightful, of a time when Seungkwan was a child. You let the question sit in the air for a second despite knowing exactly who Seungkwan reminds you of. You think of it every time he smiles or laughs or does anything at all, for all his mannerisms and all his traits remind you exactly of her. He reminds you of her in an obvious almost flashy way, in a way you couldn’t possibly ignore. In a way that’s not as subtle as Seokmin. In a way, that makes Seungkwan so dear to you. “You remind me of your mother, Seungkwan.” Your voice softens. “You are so very much like your mother.” 

He hums, satisfied with your response despite already knowing it. “Do you miss her?”

“Everyday.” 

“I wish I knew her.”

There is no pain in his voice as he says it, and yet you feel so much pain when he does. “She would’ve loved you.” Then you pause before saying the next part with a laugh dancing under your voice.  “In fact—well don’t tell the other two—but she probably would’ve loved you the most.” 

Seungkwan laughs. You relish in the sound. Then after a moment, he asks: “How about Soonyoung then? Who does he remind you of?”

You falter, not quite able to put your finger on who Soonyoung reminds you of. If not someone, then there is something the eldest prince reminds you of. Something like a memory, but there’s a fog in your mind that halts you from knowing any more. And right now, with Soonyoung long gone, the memory seems so faint; you aren’t even sure it’s real.

“I’m not sure,” is all you can say. Seungkwan hums as if he wasn’t really waiting for your answer anyways. You are quick to push down the annoyance that bubbles from it.

“Do you wish to leave?” He asks, in a voice that makes you believe he was scared to do so.

“Of course not.” You deny, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary. You try not to think too much about your upcoming departure from the Golden Palace. You fail.

Seungkwan waits a long moment. But when he speaks again, the words come falling out of his mouth. “We could get married. And then you won’t have to leave. It’ll fix everything, and father won’t be able to send you away.” 

“Seungkwan,” you hiss, but you want to rage. And in this moment, you hate how much he reminds you of his mother. Because just like her, his love makes him stupid. His love clouds his judgement. And in this moment, you want to yell at him and scream because you do not need someone you care for as much as you do Seungkwan telling you the same foolish things the people you think so lowly of do. You do not need Seungkwan persisting that a marriage will fix everything. You do not need Seungkwan, even less do you need his romantic interest in you. But you want Seungkwan, as a friend. And you have no wish to leave the Golden Palace in yet another argument with him. So, for that reason, and that one alone, you swallow your rage, and it burns all the way down your throat.

“Leave Seungkwan.”

“Not until-”

“Just go,” you seethe, the anger seeping from between your teeth. You don't wait for a response, storming to the other side of the room, near the fire. You stand by it for a second, the heat only adding to the flame burning inside you. And when you’ve had enough, your anger bursting from its seams, you kick the neat stack of firewood beside you. All seven logs go flying, one of them dents the wall. You focus on your breathing.

There’s another knock at the door. “Seungkwan, I said go!” You yell whipping the door open to come face to face with a wide-eyed Hansol. “Oh, Hansol,” you say in shock. 

“Bad time?” He asks with raised shoulders and the faintest hint of a smile. 

You huff, ignoring the urge to hit him over the head. “Just come in.”

“Seokmin told me about your sentence.” He begins, sitting down in an armchair while you go back to kneeling by the fire. 

“Seokmin sure is talking plenty tonight.” You mutter into the orange glow.

“Seokmin always talks plenty,” Hansol hums, amused but calm.

Hansol, in himself, is an epitome to his upbringing. He was only a young boy and a palace servant when you took him in and taught him how to fight. To your surprise, Hansol turned out to be an excellent fighter. Before you had relieved the orphan boy of his petty debts to the King, Hansol was constantly riled up. Always looking for a fight but losing once he did. He was angry at the world, and for good reason, but looking at him now, Hansol contains none of the anger that consumed him as a boy. You suppose you can thank him joining the Knights of the Holy Order for that. You knew firsthand how fighting in the way that the Knights do, even when there is no war, changes a person. Afterall, fighting in the Holy Wars despite your age and disinterest in conflict, had changed you in such a way that when you visited your father afterwards, he didn’t even recognize you. But you think Hansol, unlike what your father thought of you, has changed for the better. He had come back on his breaks more mature and grown. He had become a friend to you despite the manner in which your relationship had begun. Hansol was the first true friend you had since the princes' late mother. 

And after a while of you glaring at the fire and Hansol crossing and uncrossing his legs, he finally speaks up again. "Don't blame yourself for Seungkwan's inability to control himself and his emotions." 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you to be speaking ill of your friend and more importantly the prince." You bite back, stubbornly refusing his comfort. 

He scoffs. "Don't be so dense. You're my friend too." 

There's a silence and you reach your hand out to hover over the fire. "Did you know?"

"About Seungkwan and you?" 

You nod although there is no 'Seungkwan and you'. There is only Seungkwan's foolishness and your reason. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his chin in his palm. "Yes," he says with such simplicity it irks you. "In my defense, I thought you knew." 

"You'd think after all these years of living, I would be more in tune with these things, but no," you say rather lamely, "I'm still just as clueless as I was." 

"It appears even time can't change that." Hansol jokes. You laugh for the first time that day, and it feels like you can finally breathe again. 

"Have you heard any word from Soonyoung?" The question seems to bring you both back to reality. And the question, or perhaps reality, drags Hansol's lips down and draws his gaze towards the flames. 

He scratches a spot behind his head. "Not a word.”

“I’ve been sending him Risals.” 

“And…?” Hansol asks, hopeful.

“They come back empty. He doesn’t send me anything back.” 

Hansol sighs, and you can’t decide if it sounds more tired or sad. “But if he's following his plan then he should be at the Nomads' Land by now." 

"That's only if he was able to find the Nomads' Land.”  You rub your temple thinking and overthinking all the aspects of Soonyoung's plan. On a hunch and a forgotten memory, you had advised Soonyoung to head north to the Giant Forest. Specifically, you had advised Soonyoung to find the Nomads’ Land within the Giant Forest. The Nomads have always been very private people but even more so after the rule of King Jeonghan, who ruled over the kingdom during the Holy Wars. No one has even seen a Nomad since let alone their Lands. There are no maps, no stories, nothing. On top of that, the Nomads’ have never been known for their kindness to strangers. "I feel as if I've let him go on an impossible quest."

Hansol shakes his head, a crease running through his forehead. “Soonyoung decided to go himself. He sketched up the plans himself. If he thought he could do it, there must be something he knows that we don’t.”

You nod even though Hansol sounds as if he’s convincing himself of it as much as he’s convincing you. But you know, there is some truth to Hansol's words. Soonyoung is more than competent to do what he set out to do. As he grew, the eldest prince always found new ways to surprise you with his skill. After the Holy Wars and the deaths of all the Sins and Gifts apart from yourself, your fighting skill went unmatched. That was until Soonyoung. Soonyoung trained under you by the request of his mother and to the disdain of his father, and as Soonyoung grew, so did his skill. By the time Soonyoung had aged into a man, he became a better opponent than you had seen in ages. His brute strength making up for what he lacked in skill. But there’s something else about Soonyoung as well, perhaps the same quality that puts a fog in your mind and reminds you of a memory you can’t remember. That part of him makes you wonder if there is something else that eases your worries. Whatever quality of Soonyoung that perplexes you, is the same one that proves Soonyoung is capable of completing his task to overthrow the King, to overthrow his father. You can only hope your advice to ask the Nomads gets him far enough to do it.

"You're right," you admit, "Soonyoung is capable. I'm just worried. It all..." you hesitate struggling to find the right words, "It all makes my head ache." 

Hansol sits back in the armchair, his brows furrowed and appearing to be deep in thought. He opens his mouth suddenly as if to speak, yet nothing comes out. He seems to be overcome with the same loss of words as you.

 “I hate to ask this—”

 “Then don’t.” 

 “—but why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads’ Land?”

You still. The same fog from before overcoming your mind once again. “I can’t even begin to explain, Hansol, I—”

“Try,” you meet his eyes, they look darker in this light or perhaps it’s his own confusion and hopeless need to understand that makes his eyes turn to the color of bark after a thunderstorm, “please.”

You do.

“I’ve told you before, Hansol. I  struggle to remember life before the Holy Wars.” You pause, taking a moment to collect and retrieve your thoughts from the thick fog consuming your mind. You come back empty handed.

“It’s almost as if life never existed before the Holy Wars.” You say slowly. “I’ve forgotten the way life was before that. The way life was before I was the Gift of Fortitude. But sometimes, just barely, I get a sense of a memory. As if whatever made me forget is wearing off. As if it’s weakening.” You take another break, dropping your head in your hands. You can feel a headache coming. “These memories, they come and go, lasting only for the moment they appear. But when I was speaking with Soonyoung that night, something about him or something about our conversation brought this memory to me. And I…” You trail off, struggling to remember the conversation you had with Soonyoung before he took off.

Hansol stands up from the armchair and joins you on the floor. His movements are frantic, but the message they send is clear: they scream desperation. “I know it’s difficult to remember, but please try as best you can. We were so close last time.”

This makes you stop. You release your head from your hands and look back at Hansol quizzingly. “Last time?” You repeat in disbelief.

He grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Focus. You talk of a memory. A memory to do with the Nomads and your life before the Holy Wars. What did you remember that day with Soonyoung? Why did you send him to the Nomads’ Lands?”

You don’t even hear him, your head suddenly splitting with pain. “When did we speak about this before?” You ask, helplessly wondering how you possibly could have forgotten an entire conversation.

“The memory,” Hansol emphasizes once more, “what was the memory?”

“Hansol, please,” you beg, feeling a tear you hadn’t even noticed roll down your chin, “let it go. I don’t remember.”

His entire body seems to sigh in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before letting go of your face. Your mind turns white with fog the moment he lets go. You  immediately drop your head into your hands again. The pain in your head so intense you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Eventually, you taste blood.

“I’m sorry.” Hansol mumbles into your hair. You hadn’t even realized he was embracing you. “I wish it didn’t have to hurt so much to remember.”

You try to tell him it’s like a curse but the words get swallowed by another surge of pain.

He helps you into your bed, and it makes you feel as old as you are. He whispers another apology before leaving your room. 

And like a spell, the fog in your mind devours your entire body in a deep sleep.

—LORD JUN—

"In the name of the Gods, we offer this prayer. Bestow upon us the knowledge of the Elders to live in harmony with our neighbors. By bathing in your everlasting light and glory, may we go in peace.” Jun prays although his mind is far from the memorized passages that leaves from his lips. The palace temple is modern and beautiful, but different compared to the traditional southern temples he’s used to. But even that, Jun can’t focus on. No, instead, Jun troubles himself with the events of this morning. He awoke exhausted and aching after a long day of riding. But despite his tire, he was to meet the Gift of Fortitude this morning with breakfast in your personal dining room. It was awkward to say the least, with Jun and Wonwoo unsure and timid and you holding your head in your hands, complaining of a headache to a servant in hushed tones. Yet, Jun sits in the palace temple thinking and overthinking how you, the Gift of Fortitude, looked so undeniably human. 

Jun sneaks a glance. You’re seated next to him, but you look as if you’re somewhere else altogether. Your eyes are sewn shut and your lips are held tightly in a line. He wouldn’t have thought you to be so religious. Hell, Jun wouldn’t have thought anyone north of the Zalazar River to be religious, but with the way you sit, concentrated on the prayers, religious is the only thing Jun can think to describe you. 

The King had sent a message to Jun’s southern estate at the beginning of the week asking for Jun’s and Captain Wonwoo’s presence at the Golden Palace immediately. The King didn’t bother including any details. Jun and Wonwoo were left to speculate what business he could possibly have with them. With Jun, a southern Lord who never involved himself with the politics of the kingdom, and with Wonwoo, a retired Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. It certainly doesn’t help that Lord Jun is known to harbor a dislike towards the King. 

But now, as Jun and Wonwoo walk the ornate halls of the undeniably breathtaking Golden Palace alongside the Gift of Fortitude, Jun wonders even more why the King has asked for them.

“Lord King I present to you Lady Gift of Fortitude, Lord Jun, and Captain Wonwoo." The guard announces to the King's throne room as the three of you enter. The throne room, Jun notices, is just as lavish as the rest of the palace if not more. Five of the six counsel seats are filled. Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan sit attentively at their thrones, but Prince Soonyoung's throne is empty. Jun finds the sight odd, especially since the heir to the throne is known to be closely involved with the King's affairs and even more because Prince Soonyoung is a close friend of you, as are all the Princes. 

Despite that, the King wastes no time. He says that you wish to visit the southern lands, and offers Jun's estate as a place for you to stay. Jun assumes there is more to the request than the King lets on but accepts nonetheless, and the three of you are ushered out of the throne room almost as soon as you’re brought in. 

Jun, Wonwoo, and you walk the halls aimlessly after the dreaded presence with the King which admittedly was briefer and more passive than Jun had imagined. 

“I apologize for the circumstances, Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo. I’m afraid I had little choice in the matter. I just wished the King hadn’t handled matters so hurriedly.” You tell them. 

“It’s quite alright, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo affirms, glancing at Jun as if expecting him to say something, but Jun stays silent. “I find it a shame although,” Wonwoo says to cover Jun’s silence, “that there were so many missing in the King’s close court this morning.” 

“Yes.” You respond simply. 

“If I may, where is Prince Soonyoung? I’ve heard you’re close to all three Princes.”

“You heard correctly, Captain Wonwoo.” Then you pause. Jun closely observes the way you carefully choose your next words. “Prince Soonyoung had some personal matters to take care of. He’s taken a sabbatical of sorts.” 

"Odd that there was no royal notice of his sabbatical," Wonwoo says in an even but skeptical tone. 

"Yes, Prince Soonyoung is nearly as impulsive as his father," you cringe slightly when you say it, as if the words hurt.

And it's evident in the way you deflect the question, that there's something more to Prince Soonyoung's absence. Something the King's court has chosen to cover up and ignore. Jun knew just how impulsive the King could be, and for that reason, Jun suspects that Prince Soonyoung has snuck out of the palace, but then with another look at your scornful face, Jun suspects something different. Prince Soonyoung must have been sent away by his father himself. The realization takes a moment to sink in. 

Wonwoo clears his throat. “And then what about Lord Mark, the sixth member of the King’s court?”

You stop walking altogether, looking down at your feet with furrowed brows. You look as if you’ve forgotten something. Jun and Wonwoo stop walking as well.

“You haven’t heard?” You question so quietly that Jun barely hears it.

Wonwoo tilts his head, “Heard what?”

You bite your lip, and look off to the side. You open your mouth once, but then close it again after. Jun thinks, as mad as it sounds, that you, a Gift of the Spirit, look a little nervous.

Jun takes a step forward. “What is it Lady Gift?” He asks, breaking his silence.

You shake your head once and then look up at Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo with steady eyes. “Lord Mark was murdered.” You state with an eerie simplicity. You hesitate before adding the next part. “And I was the one who killed him.”

Jun was wrong. It was not nerves that made you hesitate. It was guilt.  

“Well then, I just need to take care of a few more things before we leave. I’ll meet you both at the stables.”

And you’re off before Jun and Wonwoo can even comprehend what you just said.

 ***

Jun waits for you and Wonwoo in the stables. He tends to his horse deep in thought. 

Jun hadn't been sure of the nature of your prospective visit to his estate. But now with your murder confession, it's clear you are being sent away as a punishment. You’re more akin to the stories and rumors than Jun had wanted to believe. A monster lurking on the palace grounds as one of the Seven Gifts of the Spirit under the pretense that you mysteriously switched sides and fought with the Seven Sins during the Holy Wars. A monster lurking within a human body with an uncontrollable power that should be stopped, contained. 

Jun doesn’t agree with all of it, but he’s not above some of the notions either. Before the Holy Wars, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were praised as highly as the Seven Sins. The two groups worked in harmony as protectors of humanity. However, for reasons unknown to the people, the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit began fighting which escalated into the Holy Wars. The kingdom took the side of the Sins making the Gifts an enemy to the nation. After the war, the Gifts were not praised as highly as they once were. In fact, the Seven Gifts of the Spirit were not praised at all. All seven Sins and six of the Gifts perished in the Holy Wars. You, the only one who had survived, shouldered the blame of the Holy Wars. You, the Gift of Fortitude, became a pariah.

Although Jun hates himself for doing so, he can’t help but think that perhaps you do have too much power. Power that is unmatched without another living Sin or Gift. Power that goes unchecked. If the Gift of Fortitude set out to kill, Jun doubts there is much that could stop you. Lord Mark’s murder had gone unannounced and relatively unpunished. Jun wonders if Lord Mark was an isolated example or just another among the many whose lives were put in your hands. 

But then when Jun thinks back to the figure praying diligently beside him in the temple just hours ago and the person who complained of something as mundane as a headache this morning, it doesn’t appear to make much sense. If Jun had not known you to be the Gift of Fortitude, he would’ve never fathomed that you’d even hurt a fly.  

“That’s a very beautiful horse you have there, Lord Jun,” you say suddenly, bringing to Jun’s attention your presence in the stables. 

 Jun nods with a polite yet strained smile. “Yes, he was gifted to me by my father.” 

“Ah,” you mutter. And for a second, Jun thinks he sees your face turn to a frown. But before he can look any further, you continue. “Mines is a river horse.” You brush through the mane of the horse in the stall next to Jun’s. “I found him a while back by the Zalazar River.” 

Jun doesn’t say anything in response. He begins attaching his saddles and bags to his horse instead. He watches the affection with which you care for your horse. He wonders how you’re able to act so calmly after admitting to murder not too long ago. Jun thinks your dismissal and nonchalance negates any trust he might’ve held for you.  

He clears his throat. He makes sure it’s loud and obtrusive. He makes sure the I don’t trust you is clear. 

“Lord Jun,” you begin, not even bothering to take your eyes off your horse, “I understand you may be upsetted by and skeptical of my actions, but I kindly ask that you respect them nonetheless. I hope you come to see that I had my reasons. Good reasons. Ones that I am unable to share with you.” You pause for a second as a servant brings in a bird Jun doesn’t recognize and sets it by your feet. You continue as soon as the servant disappears behind the stable doors. “I am no stranger to fear and hate directed towards me. But seeing as I am to be staying at your estate for the foreseeable future, I ask that you wait and get to know me before you make any rash assumptions concerning me.” You take a step past Jun so that you stand beside him facing the opposite stable door. You turn your head, and Jun shivers at the way your breath hits his neck. You speak directly into his ear, voice no louder than a whisper. “It’s best you realize sooner rather than later that we have the same enemy here.” 

Jun understands what you are implicating, the notion alone bringing a sudden heat to his cheeks. He doesn’t dare to meet your eyes. But you stare at Jun until he makes some acknowledgment of your speech. You’re gone the moment he does, leaving a cloud of dust and dirt in the space you used to occupy. 

Jun is left stunned. He can’t even acknowledge the palace servant that re enters the stable to finish preparing your horse. He’s only brought out of mind when a familiar heavy hand rests upon his shoulder. 

“We’re ready when you are Jun,” Wonwoo says, a laugh dancing under his words. 

Jun groans. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Wonwoo releases Jun’s shoulder. “Enough,” he hums with an enthusiastic nod. 

“So you think it’s excusable then?” Jun questions, hurt that Wonwoo seems to be taking your side over his. “Are you willing to excuse murder too?” 

Wonwoo’s quiet for a moment, but when he does speak again, he does so seriously. Jun listens intently. “It’s not that I’m excusing murder Jun. It’s that I’m willing to believe there is more to this story than we are hearing. I’m willing to trust the Gift of Fortitude over the King.” 

Jun shakes his head. “I just can’t understand how everyone is looking past the life that has been lost. How can you accept a crime as grave as murder?”

Wonwoo chuckles darkly. “I spent the better part of my life making murderers out of men and women. I made a murderer out of myself as Captain of the Knights of the Holy Order. I stay sane because I believe that I led knights to their deaths for good reason. If I did not accept the murders I’ve committed, I would have gone mad a long time ago. Sometimes Jun, a crime is only as grave as its motivation.”

Jun is silent, taking his time to understand what Wonwoo means. He returns his attention to his horse. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Jun asks, deciding he needs more time to process than the moment allows. Wonwoo isn’t bothered by the shift in conversation. 

“Ah, I had many things to discuss with Prince Seungkwan. You know, former Captain of the Knights to current Commander.”

“Anything worth sharing?” 

Wonwoo hums. “Not much, although he is an excellent Commander, Prince Seungkwan,” Wonwoo clarifies, “even despite his young age. What they say is true, he possesses a gift for...”

Jun nods, listening half-heartedly to Wonwoo for Jun has no interest in the subjects of armies and battles. 

Eventually, Wonwoo wears himself out with talk of the current state of the Knights, the supply chain routes, their management of northern bandits and uneasy eastern Lords, and whatever else Wonwoo can think to comment on. And by the time he does, the horses are prepped and ready to go. The small, mismatched party of Lord Jun, Captain Wonwoo, and the Gift of Fortitude begin the two day journey south. 

The journey is quiet and tense. The only conversation coming from Wonwoo and you making small talk about the weather and the shameful fail of the western harvest. They take rest at the Bronze Bridge. 

The Zalazar River is now a green color. Wonwoo comments on how it’s a little early for the river to take such a dark color. He also mentions that this color is one of his favorites. 

“My favorite,” you begin, leaning over the edge to stare at the water, “is the blue that appears during the transition from winter to spring.”

They all, including the guards, stare at you, dumbfounded. You notice a second too late and turn your head towards them slowly. 

“What?” You breathe, and Jun laughs when he realizes you’re being serious. He laughs at the notion that your favorite color of an ever-changing river is the color of all bodies of water.   

“In that case, Lady Gift,” Wonwoo chuckles, “I think you’ll take a great liking to the sea.” 

They mount their horses and cross the rest of the Bronze Bridge and forest green river a little less tensely. 

***

They take rest at an inn for the night. Jun finds how empty the inn is odd considering it is at the center of this town off the main road. Even if most of the rooms were unoccupied, the dining rooms of inns were always full at nights with the town’s people engrossed in conversation over a pint of beer. But tonight, with the guards resting upstairs, the inn’s dining room is mostly empty. Three tables are occupied and one of those three are occupied by Jun, Wonwoo, and you. Jun remembers what you said about fear and hate being directed towards you. He starts to wonder how often you empty a room with fear, intentional or not.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel bad. It’s been so long since you’ve left the King’s City, that you’ve forgotten how the people outside the Golden Palace react to you. You have forgotten that most people don’t want to eat dinner and play drinking games with a Gift of the Spirit near. You make a mental note to cover up more next time you’re out. Then after a quick glance at the innkeeper behind the bar, you make another note to reimburse her for the money she must’ve lost thanks to you.  

You’re aware of the way Jun squints at you, untrusting. The southern Lord hadn’t appeared to be so headstrong and stubborn when you met him this morning. But as Lord Jun stares daggers at you, you guess that your first impression of him was wrong. Still, you’re tired of petty conflict. You want to help Jun understand your motives without involving him in the palace’s politics. You want to make peace. 

You exhale sharply. 

“Lord Jun,” his eyes widen when you address him, “Captain Wonwoo, I know you must have many reasons to distrust me.” Jun scoffs. You ignore it. “But I’d like to make peace with you both. I’m afraid I might not be able to answer all of your questions but perhaps there’s some that I can.” 

You feel uneasy. You aren’t one to make an effort to get someone to like you or trust you. And yet, you find yourself in front of Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo nearly begging for their acceptance. 

“I have a question,” Wonwoo begins, sitting up slightly. You nod. “What kind of bird do you travel with? I’ve never seen a bird like that before.” 

“Oh, the bird. It’s my personal Risal.” You say simply. You aren’t surprised to see the shock on their faces. Risals were extremely rare and even more expensive. They’re said to have been blessed by the Gods as messenger birds. That of course is the only explanation for how Risals are able to send any message anywhere and to anyone in no more than a day even if the one sending the message does not know where to find the one receiving. 

“My Gods, how in the world did you get your hands on a Risal?” Wonwoo exclaims, like a little kid waiting for sweets. 

You smile. “It was a gift from the princes’ late mother.” The reminder makes your smile turn sad. Lord Jun notices. 

“Are they as untraceable as they say?” 

You nod. “Tracking a Risal is impossible. It’s almost as if they disappear into thin air when they take flight.” 

“You’re very lucky.” Wonwoo tells you with a laugh, and you let yourself believe that you’ve made some progress. Lord Jun, however, doesn’t let you believe so for long. 

“I have a question.” Lord Jun implores, bringing himself out of his silence. His voice is stern and a little cold. Wonwoo looks uneasy. You beckon for him to continue anyways. “What exactly do you possess as a Gift of the Spirit?” His voice is filled with distrust, but when you meet his eyes, you're surprised to find that they aren’t as cold as his voice. 

“Jun—“ Wonwoo starts. 

“How do you mean?” You encourage him to continue. You know what he wants to hear. He wants to hear how you’re a killer by nature. He wants you to explain just how deadly you are. He wants you to prove his distrust. 

“What are your powers, Gift?” 

You flinch at the name. You flinch at the question. Both of which you hate. And yet, you’re no stranger to either. But you’ve already decided to make peace, and so peace you’ll make. 

“As you know, in ancient times Maratelli the archangel gave 14 roles to humans. The Seven Sins: Greed, Anger, Pride, Lust, Sloth, Gluttony, and Envy. And the Seven Gifts of the Spirit: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Knowledge, Piety, Fear, and,” you pause to look at Lord Jun directly, “Fortitude. The Sins and Gifts were given to the people as protectors. As humanity’s fighters. To answer your question Lord Jun, I am an exceptionally skilled fighter. I was made and crafted by the Gods to fight for humans and protect them in ways they cannot. But the power is not almighty, the Seven Sins and Gifts are slow healers. Even small injuries can leave us bedridden for weeks.” 

Lord Jun wastes no time, jumping into the next question. “Are you immortal?” 

“No.” 

“So you can die?” 

“Yes.” 

“By old age?” 

“No.” 

“Then how?” 

You wait a beat. “By giving up.” You don't explain any further. 

You had hoped to make peace with Lord Jun tonight. Perhaps you had hoped for too much. 

--LORD JUN-- There’s a familiar tense silence while riding the next day. They reach Jun’s estate by late afternoon, earlier than expected. 

You request to be taken straight to your quarters. 

“You’re acting strange.” Wonwoo mutters, watching Jun with a careful eye as he takes a spoonful of his soup. It’s only Jun and Wonwoo at dinner tonight. You decided you were too tired to attend. 

“How so?” Jun questions, swirling his spoon around the bowl. 

“The cook made your favorite soup, and you’ve had only two spoons of it so far.”

“I ate a snack earlier.” 

“It’s not just that Jun.” Wonwoo adds, and Jun holds back a groan, dreading the coming conversation. “What’s gotten into you?” Jun shrugs. And he can’t help but notice how sad Wonwoo sounds when he says: “You aren’t yourself around her.” 

Jun drops his spoon, placing his hands on his knees. “I just don’t trust her Wonwoo. Something about her unsettles me.” 

Wonwoo takes another sip of his soup. “You’re entitled to your judgement, but that does not mean you’re entitled to treat her so rudely. I just want the two of you to make peace. And believe it or not, she wants to make peace too.” 

Jun huffs; he doesn’t feel like giving in easily tonight. “If the Gift wants to make peace, then let her make it.” 

“She’s already tried. And if you must call her something, she prefers Fortitude.” 

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Wonwoo.” 

“And what would you do if a title was the only name you had?” 

Jun bites the inside of his cheek, mumbling, “but what if it’s not the only name she has?”

Wonwoo shakes his head in frustration. “Jun, I can only advise you to make peace. It’s up to you whether you do or not.” 

And with that Wonwoo leaves from the dining room. Jun finishes the rest of his dinner alone. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You were unhappy. You didn’t want to be at Lord Jun’s estate in these strange southern lands. You did not want to be somewhere you were unwelcome. Even before your return to the Golden Palace, you never traveled too far away from the King’s City. The thought of being so far away from the lands you’re used to calling home makes your skin itch. 

There’s a knock on your door. You open it to a young servant girl. “Lady Gift, Lord Jun is asking if you would like to accompany him on a walk to the beach.” 

You wonder for a second if this is some sort of joke. You can’t imagine Jun waking up and deciding he wants to spend time with you willingly. Then you suspect if Wonwoo put him up to it. 

“You can tell him I’m coming and that I’ll meet him by the back gates.” 

You get dressed quickly and walk down the estate to the gates. When you arrive, Lord Jun is already waiting, facing away from the estate and towards the grassy path. 

“Lord Jun.” 

He nods at your greeting, and the walk begins in silence. 

“You seem to already know your way around the estate.” Jun mentions by the time the grass and sand have begun to mix under your feet. 

“Wonwoo gave me a very thorough tour this morning.” 

Jun laughs but it sounds small and strained. “Yes, Wonwoo is not the type to spare any details.” 

You settle back into a silence. You’re surprised with how civil the walk has been so far, and you duly note how this might be the first time Jun hasn’t stared at you hatefully. With another look at the boy, you find that his eyes—when they aren’t filled with anger—are actually quite kind. You also find beauty in the way the sunlight bounces off them. You smile. 

“Lord Jun,” you address softly, “did Wonwoo put you up to this?” 

He chuckles, and instead of answering your question, he says: “Lady Gift, I would like to apologize for how I treated you these past couple days. I am not used to the happenings of the Golden Palace. I was shocked. But that’s no excuse for how I acted. I’m sorry. I truly am.”

For the second time that day, you’re surprised, and not only because Jun is apologizing but also because of how sincerely he sounds saying it. 

“Thank you, Lord Jun.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s the least I could do, Lady Gift. But I hope you accept this as an apology for my behavior as well, and that you find it in you to forgive me.” 

You nod. “I’ll forgive you if you agree to drop the formalities.” 

Jun claps his hands. “Doesn’t seem like you’re getting nearly as much out of this arrangement as I am, but I accept nonetheless.” He stops walking and holds out his hand. “Do we have an agreement?” 

You shake his outstretched hand. “I suppose we do.” 

He smiles, and you’re shocked for the third time that day. Shocked that the man before you is the same one you met at the Golden Palace. The same man whose hatred for you was so strong you could have sensed it across a room. The same man who is taking you on this walk and no longer calling you Gift. Shocked that Jun is the one to make the peace you wanted so badly. 

You find yourself to be smiling too. 

“Come on,” Jun says, continuing the walk, “I think it’s about time you saw the sea.” 

You both continue down the now sandy path. You admire the way Jun so easily walks in the sand. You, on the other hand, struggle to adapt to your feet sinking and shifting in the ground beneath you. 

Jun tells you that walking in the sand will get easier with time. It takes a moment for you to register the fact that he noticed. 

“Wow,” is all you can say at the blue expanse before you. You think Seokmin was right. The paintings do not do justice to the sea. The paintings were unable to capture the real thing. 

“You said that blue is your favorite shade of the Zalazar River right?” 

Your smile widens. “Yes, but this…” you motion to the water, “this is even better.” 

Jun hums triumphantly. “Accept this as a peace offering.” 

“Oh Jun, we have already bargained and made peace.” 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re actually terrible at bargaining.” He laughs. “That deal was far too uneven for me to accept with dignity. So please, accept this instead.” 

“I was not aware you knew how to make a joke.” You tease. 

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious. 

You tilt your head. “I also was not aware the sea was yours to give as peace offerings.” 

“It’s not.” He bites back a smile. “But it is yours to take.” 

You think for a moment. And when the next wave crashes into the shore, you nod.

***

You send a message with the Risal to Seokmin that night. 

Dear Seokmin, I hope things at the palace are doing well. You were right. The sea is so much more than I thought. The sea is something else entirely. Give everyone my love. -Fortitude 

—LORD JUN—

Jun is sitting at his desk. He has piles of papers to sort through, file, fill out, and sign, and yet he can’t seem to focus on the small amount of work he’s obliged to do as a Lord. Instead he’s focused on the view outside the window of his office which overlooks the courtyard. More specifically, he focuses on the way you sit at the edge of the fountain teasing a stray cat with a loose string. Suddenly, you look towards the sky and stick your arm out. A bird swoops down from nowhere and perches itself on your extended forearm. Jun wonders if your abilities as a Gift include an inclination towards animals. The bird drops an envelope in your lap; you read the cover before setting it down beside you. Jun squints at the scene and recognizes the bird as your Risal. This piques his interest. 

“Wonwoo,” Jun calls out. Wonwoo tends to keep Jun company while he works, reading a book in the corner armchair. But when Jun is met with silence, he looks over to find the book closed on his lap and Wonwoo fast asleep. Jun covers Wonwoo with a blanket and exits his office silently. He figures he might as well go for a walk if he isn’t going to get any work done. 

When he finds you in the courtyard, the cat has settled down in your lap, and the Risal sits on the stretch of fountain ledge next to you. You seem to sense Jun behind you before he bothers to make his presence known. 

“Have you already finished your work Jun?” You ask, not turning around to face him. He walks the circumference of the fountain before stopping a little before you and answering. 

“Not exactly.” He sits down on the fountain ledge next to the Risal. 

“Well,” you mumble scratching a place behind the cat’s ear, “I suppose now is as good a time for a break as any.” 

“Yes, I thought so too.” Jun responds, more focused on the bird in front of him. “Can I pet it?”

You nod. You advise him to start at the beak until the bird trusts him. It doesn’t take long for the bird to nuzzle under his palm. 

“It likes you.” you say, sounding a little shocked. “Winning a Risal’s trust usually takes much longer.” 

Jun smiles shyly. The two of you settle into a silence. You scratching the stray cat to sleep and Jun running his hand along the bird in awe. It had become like that between you two. There was never much conversation and yet somehow the silences you shared never felt empty or weird. Jun isn’t sure if he can truly trust you, but he does know he was wrong about you. You’re no monster. In fact, you’re just as human as him and Wonwoo. 

“How do they work?” Jun wonders, looking up from the bird. “The Risals.”

You sit up slightly. “Would you like to see?” 

He nods. You set the cat down on the ground and beckon for Jun to stand up as well. 

You collect the Risal on your arm and start walking away from him. “Move farther away.” You tell him. “It won’t work if we’re too close.” 

Once you are the entire length of the courtyard apart, you nod in approval and say something Jun can’t hear to the bird. The bird suddenly launches itself from your arm and soars into the sky. Jun closely watches how the Risal disappears behind the clouds. 

You cup your hands around your mouth and shout from across the courtyard: “When you hear a bird’s screech, hold out your arm.” 

Jun waits a moment. Eventually the screech comes, and Jun thinks how you forgot to mention how loud it would be. The screech makes him jump and clasp his arms over his ears. You don't even flinch. Jun looks to see if the cat is spooked and finds that the cat is still peacefully asleep on the ground. Out of the corner his eye, he sees you pointing wildly at his arm. Jun quickly sticks it out. He looks up at the sky only to see the Risal already swooping down and landing neatly on his arm. His mouth opens in shock. 

“Now,” you yell, “tell it to go to me.” 

Jun looks the Risal in the eye. He wonders if this is all some elaborate joke. The bird couldn’t possibly understand him if he were to speak to it, right? Then he wonders if he’s mad for believing that it can. He inhales. 

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.” 

And Jun swears the Risal seems to nod before leaping off his arm and flying straight up into the sky once more. He watches the sky keenly, and then also covers his ears with his hands in anticipation of the screech. It never comes. Instead, the bird dives down from the sky, calming landing on your outstretched arm. Jun runs to you immediately.  

“How come there was no screech this time?” Jun asks breathlessly, meeting you at your end of the courtyard. 

“There was.” You say simply, petting the bird. Jun furrows his brows. “The screech is only heard by the one who the Risal is meant for.” It clicks for Jun then why you didn’t flinch and why the cat is still in a ball by the fountain. 

“So,” Jun says slowly, “how does the Risal understand the name you tell it?”

You shrug. 

“What if you get the name wrong? Or there’s multiple people with that name?”

You shrug again. “They’re never wrong though, in my experiences at least. It’s almost as if they understand the intent more than the name itself.”

“And the way it just disappears into the sky?” 

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

Jun smiles at the child-like excitement in your voice. He nods. “They must be incredibly smart creatures.” 

“They’re not just smart.” You begin scratching a spot under the Risal’s beak. The bird melts under your touch. “They’re magical.”

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, I thought you’d like the sea. Things at the palace are as fine as can be. Seungkwan misses you dearly. I’ll keep you updated on Father and other palace occurrings. Although in all honesty, things have been quiet since your departure. I hope you’re resting well and enjoying the southern scenery despite the circumstances. Give my regards to Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun. -Seokmin 

—LORD JUN—

“The service was long today.” Jun states exiting the temple with Wonwoo and you. The southern temples, unlike the palace temple, were old and traditionally built. This temple in particular had been built long before the Holy Wars. 

“I didn’t think so.” Wonwoo says, swatting a hand around his face to shoo away a bug. “What did you think?” 

But when they look over at you, you appear to be somewhere else altogether. Suddenly, you still. 

 “Is that a…” you begin, your voice small, unbelieving. 

Jun follows your gaze to a building at the top of the hill behind the temple. He follows your gaze to the sanctuary. You start walking towards the hill before Jun and Wonwoo can stop you. 

The sanctuary hasn’t been used in years, and the state of it shocks Jun. In fact, the sanctuary itself shocks Jun. He’s never been inside one. His knowledge of them was limited to what he had seen and read in textbooks growing up. Before the Holy Wars, all temples used to have sanctuaries nearby. They were built in honor of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts of the Spirit. Sculptures were meant to line the walls of the sanctuaries, seven on the left for the Sins and seven on the right for the Gifts. And at the front of the sanctuaries, a sculpture of Maratelli the archangel was meant to stand tall. However after the Holy Wars, most sanctuaries were destroyed by mobs. People no longer felt the need to pay their respects to the beings who started the war that nearly destroyed the kingdom. The few sanctuaries that weren’t burned to the ground were left vandalized, most of the sculptures reduced to rubble. 

The sanctuary Jun, Wonwoo, and you stand in is no exception. Cobwebs cover all the walls and a thick layer of dust clouds everything in sight. The sanctuary is hauntingly cold and damp. Only two sculptures are left standing: Maratelli’s, whose arms and wings have been broken off, and one of the Gifts. Upon closer examination, Jun finds that the other standing sculpture is the one dedicated to you, the Gift of Fortitude. The face of the sculpture is gone as if someone chipped away at the stone until the contours of the face disappeared. And on top of the blank stone where the face should be, die is written in black paint and monster is written on the torso. The sight makes Jun sick to the stomach. 

But that’s not where Jun finds you. Instead, Jun and Wonwoo find you kneeling on the floor next to the broken stone of what once was a sculpture dedicated to the Sin of Pride. Jun helplessly realizes the tragedy that must litter your past in the way that everyone you once knew died before your eyes. You bow your head to the floor and sob. Jun feels like an intruder in this moment, as if he’s watching something personal and private, something not meant for his eyes. The broken marble you bury your face into does little to conceal the pain in your sobs, and Jun can’t help the way his heart aches at the sheer amount of heartbreak that rings from your cries. 

Jun and Wonwoo decide to wait for you outside. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“If I may ask, when was the last time you had a worthy opponent?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence of your lunch. Only you and Wonwoo were present today. 

You think it over for a moment. It's been a while since you’ve fought anyone. Even while training Hansol and the Princes, you never fought them yourself. “The Holy Wars most likely.” 

Wonwoo nods, placing a hand under his chin. “Not that I would make one, but one of these days could we fight?”

You suck in a breath. Wonwoo’s question feels foreign in your mind. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Just a friendly scuffle?” 

“I don’t—“ 

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“We could set up rules to prevent such, and I can take a little pain. I might be retired but—”

“No, Wonwoo.” You cut him off. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

He shrinks back into his seat. “Forgive me. But…” he hesitates, “can I ask why not?” 

You sigh. “I don’t fight for pleasure anymore.” 

***

The sea is quieter than usual and the waves crash in whispers the day you and Wonwoo go for a walk along the shore. You had quickly adapted to the way your feet sink in the sand; and today, you find comfort in it.  

It’s also the day that Wonwoo reveals his plans to head home soon. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t Wonwoo’s home. He explains how his family lives farther east and how he splits his time between Jun’s estate and his own home, travelling back and forth frequently. And when you question why he even bothers returning to Jun’s estate, why he bothers leaving home, Wonwoo laughs loudly and explains that Jun pays him good money to stay and keep him company. You also hadn’t realized that this was Wonwoo’s job.

—LORD JUN—

“Don’t you think it’s a little desperate to pay Wonwoo to leave his family and keep you company?” You tease as you and Jun wave goodbye to Wonwoo.

Jun scoffs, side eyeing Wonwoo’s retreating figure. “Is that what he told you?” You nod. “I’ll have you know he was staying for free before I insisted on him accepting the money.” 

You laugh, and Jun notices the way your eyes crinkle. “Yes, yes. I figured as much.”   

The young servant girl appears then, asking Jun if anything more is needed. Jun tells her she can go home for the day, and she flushes a dark red. Jun notices how you notice. 

And when the servant girl leaves, Jun watches the way you smile, your lips concealing a secret.

“Fortitude,” he blurts, “would you like to go on a walk with me?” 

***

“What’s her name? The young servant girl?” You ask as you both start along the path towards the beach. 

“Mina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

You nod slowly, a smile similar to the one before growing on your face. “It’s cute, how smitten she is by you.” 

Jun bites his bottom lip. “I don’t mean to make her…” He trails off, unable to find the right words. 

“Smile less.” 

Jun quirks his head, looking up at you. “My smile…?”

You nod. “It’s your smile she falls for.” 

Jun lets the statement sink, and the wind seems to pick up while he does. A sound faintly resembling a growl comes from you. He looks over to find you struggling to keep your hair at bay, the dark locks flying wildly in the wind. 

You huff, annoyed. “I didn’t bring anything to tie it back with.” 

“You could braid it.” Jun suggests.

You run a hand through your hair in another attempt to push it back. “How terrible is it that I never learned how to braid it myself?” 

Jun blinks at you. You pick at a spot below your chin. 

“Don’t laugh.” you stutter, but it’s too late because Jun is already chuckling behind his hand. You shove him, hard. 

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” 

You look at him, your hair unattractively covering your face. You push it back, determining whether Jun’s offer is genuine or not. 

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.” 

Jun moves behind you, gathering your hair in his hands and beginning to braid it. 

“Where’d you learn how to braid anyways?” You ask, voice raised to be heard against the wind. 

“My sister, Jennie, would make me braid her hair sometimes.” 

You shove a loose strand behind your ear. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” 

“She’s illegitime, technically. My father had her with another woman before he married my mother.” 

“Where is she?” You wonder aloud as Jun finishes the braid off. 

“She married an islander, Seungcheol, and lives there with him.” Jun allows his eyes to drift towards the sea. Islands were peppered all along the coast, and the island Jennie and her husband and kids lived on was only a couple hours from here by boat. Jun made sure they visited each other often enough, and wrote to each other even more frequently. 

“It must be nice.” You mutter, focused on knotting the end of your braid. “To have a sibling.” 

And Jun swears he’s never heard anyone sound so lonely. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The walks along the shore had become a daily activity for you and Jun, but today Jun was busy which left you helplessly bored and laying in your bed staring at the ceiling. Your mind had begun to wander to Soonyoung and his impossible journey, to Hansol and your forgotten conversation, to the King and his future plans, and to Lord Mark. Maybe the King was smart to send you here after all, being far away from the Golden Palace made you forget why you were sent here to begin with. It was easy to ignore the gravity of the palace issues here at Jun’s estate. It was easy to push aside the fog in your mind when you thought about your past. It was almost too easy to throw your worries into the sea and watch them crash against the rocks. 

So when Mina walks in with a fresh load of laundry, you don't hesitate to ask if the young girl would care to accompany you on a walk. And when Mina agrees, you’re grateful that you’ve found a distraction. 

When you ask why Mina works, you learn that she is the oldest of seven. You frown at the thought of Mina's wages going all to her family, but she’s quick to tell you not to worry. Apparently Jun pays the estate staff well. The thought makes you smile. A question arises at the faint blush appearing on Mina’s cheeks. You hesitate a little. 

“Mina, do you happen to have a crush on Lord Jun?” 

Mina freezes like a deer. “Oh Lady Gift, it isn’t like that please don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I intend to marry him or anything.” She shakes her head vigorously. “It’s just that… Lord Jun has shown me nothing but kindness and I-“ She cuts herself off, fidgeting with her fingers. You assure her that it’s okay. Mina continues unsurely. “It’s just that it’s hard to not direct my feeling of gratitude in that way.” 

“And,” you hum, nudging her shoulder, “I’m sure it doesn’t help how handsome Lord Jun is.” 

An embarrassed smile emerges on Mina’s face, and it turns almost mischievous when she says: “I would like it to go on record that I was not the one who said it.” 

You erupt in laughter. 

***

If you knew Mina wasn’t skilled in the art of keeping things to herself, you wouldn’t have admitted to the young girl your thoughts of Jun’s face. But alas, you had, and there was nothing you could do to stop the gossiping of a young girl. It was just your luck that Jun took it upon himself to tease you for the admission endlessly. 

The day the teasing stops is the day you want nothing more than to shoot an arrow. 

To your dismay, Jun’s estate does not house an archery gallery. But when Jun learns of your desire, he offers an alternative. So with the bow and arrow you brought from the Golden Palace and wooden plates acting as targets held up by Jun himself, your wish is granted. 

You notch an arrow and breathe, taking note of the wind shift before letting the arrow fly. It hits the plate exactly where you had sent it. 

“So is it safe to assume that archery is another gift you have as a Gift?” Jun shouts to you from across the beach, pulling the arrow from out the plate and dropping it in a pile. 

“Yes, it is.” You respond, grabbing another arrow from beside you. You take notice of how nonchalantly Jun stands. “Are you not frightened by me shooting arrows towards a target that lies in your hand?” 

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?” 

You’re taken aback by the question, but you aren’t scared. The arrow would land only where you wanted it to. 

“No.”

“Then why should I be.” Jun says easily, holding the target back up. “Also, I know you’d never purposely hurt me.” He adds with a coy smile. “You think I’m too handsome.” 

You string the arrow in less than a second, aiming straight for Jun’s face. “What was that?” 

A giggling Jun cowers behind the target and runs. 

***

Sleep doesn’t come to you that night. Your mind runs wild with thoughts of the Golden Palace. You think and overthink the events that led up to Soonyoung being sent away and then again the ones that led up to Lord Mark’s untimely death. You find that the memories slip past your fingers, a fog encompassing them. The same fog that clouds your memories of the past. It appears that your mind houses more fog than actual memories.  It appears that the fog is driving you mad. 

You elect to think of something new. Your eyes land on the Risal from Seokmin you have yet to respond to. You would’ve sent one back sooner if the line about Seungkwan didn’t make you so upset. You reluctantly recall your last conversation with him. He was still the same foolish little boy you have always known. You suppose that’s what makes your falling out so heartbreaking. You have known all three princes from the moment they were born. You raised them alongside their mother and your dearest friend, and when she passed, you raised them like they were your own family. Not exactly like a mother, but something more akin to a cousin or an aunt. The three princes were the closest thing you had to a family, and the thought that Seungkwan could love you romantically repulsed you. You were mad at Seungkwan, disappointed in him, and yet, you still miss him as much as you miss Seokmin and Soonyoung. You long to talk with the three princes like you once did, before Seungkwan loved you and before they were old enough to concern themselves with the state of the kingdom and the state of their own father. And this time, the longing is what drives you mad.   

You decide that thinking will only lead to misery tonight, and with a glance at the full moon outside your window, you also decide a walk must be better than lying here, drowning in your own thoughts. You pull on a pair slippers before silently exiting your room. 

The beach is quiet tonight. The waves tease and kiss the shore and then disappear back into the sea. While you walk, you think about all the ways the sea has shown itself to you. You only realize how far you’ve walked when you reach the rocks. 

You were told about the rocky cliffs that laid a little to the west of Jun’s estate by Jun, Wonwoo, and Mina. But you had never walked so far with either of them to see them yourself. 

The waves don’t seem larger here, but they crash against the rocks as if they are. The waves and the rocks clash like two forces in battle. Somehow the image and the sound bring a bit of comfort to the battle raging in your mind. 

Where you stand, the rocks are scattered, but further along the beach, the rocks multiply and gather until they completely cover the sand. The rocks start flat and then pile on top of each other until you’re staring at the rocky cliffs you have heard so much about. You think you like this rocky beach more than the sandy one you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You stiffen when you notice a figure sitting on one of the flat rocks. The person looks tired in the way they sit with their shoulders dropped and dragging, and yet the person is so captivated by the sea they don’t even notice you coming. Upon closer examination, you realize that you recognize the figure sitting alone on the rocks. Your guard drops when you realize the person is Jun. 

“Jun,” you say, appearing behind him, carefully walking towards where he sits on the rocks.

“Ah, Fortitude.” He doesn’t flinch at your appearance. He doesn’t even bother taking his eyes off the water. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You hum. “And you?” 

He shakes his head. “Wonwoo calls this spot the insomniac's bed.” 

“Do you come here often then?”

“Nearly every night.” He looks away from the sea and stares at you still standing behind him.“Please,” he stutters, patting a dry patch of rock next to him, “sit.” You do.

“Is it safe to jump into the water from there?” You ask suddenly. 

You wait for Jun to follow your eyes. “Ah, from the cliff?” You nod. “It isn’t safe to jump from most cliffs. There could be rocks in the water, or if the waves are too strong they could push you back against the base of the cliff.” 

“Yes, but what about this cliff?” 

Jun sighs, although he doesn’t sound tired or frustrated. “They call that cliff Angel’s Peak.” 

“Why?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because you’ll need the wings of an angel to survive it.” 

“Oh.” You don't think about it any further. 

The two of you don’t speak, the waves that crash against the rocks do that for you. You let the sound overwhelm you, feeling more peace and more clarity than you’ve felt in years. 

As a Gift of the Spirit, you lived longer than most, and part of your powers allow you to stay young. You could though, grow old. You could wake up one day and decide to start aging again. You could let herself wrinkle and grey like everyone else. But after King Jeonghan died, after the last person who knew you as more than just a Gift stopped aging, you did too. You have been told that even though your face doesn’t show your age, your eyes do. It’s been said that your eyes tell the story of all the years you’ve endured. 

You study Jun. This must be it, you think. This must be what people see when they look at your eyes because when you look at Jun’s, you can see the life he’s endured behind them. You can see the age behind the brown. You wonder what Jun must be thinking in this moment to make his life appear so long and sad. You wonder how Jun manages to feel like an equal to you despite your life being so much longer. You wonder—

“How old are you?”

If Jun’s shocked by the sudden question, he doesn’t show it. “As old as Soonyoung,” then with a sigh he adds, “but I feel as old as you.” 

And with the way Jun says it, as if he holds mountains on his shoulders, you believe him. 

“Well, maybe not as old as you,” Jun continues, talking quickly as if he misspoke. “I just meant that I feel old. Or at least older than I am.” 

“No,” you mumble, picking at a loose strand, “I think I understand.”

“Can I ask you a question then?” 

“Depends.” 

Jun waits a beat as if he’s testing the words on his tongue first. “How old are you?”

You inhale. “Too old, Jun.” 

He doesn’t ask you to explain any further, but when you think about the years behind Jun’s eyes, something in you yearns to tell him more anyways. 

“It’s a lonely thing to do,” you continue, eyes trained on the water, “to get old but not grow old.” 

“So then why don’t you?” 

“These days, I’m not so sure.” You meet Jun’s gaze, and suddenly you feel as tired as you do old. 

“Good night, Jun,” you tell him, standing up, “I hope sleep comes to you soon.” 

*** 

Dear Seokmin, I miss the old days. Why did you boys have to grow so old? Why did things have to get so difficult? Keep me updated on palace news, but spare me the court’s gossip. I worry about Soonyoung too much for my own good. Tell me if you hear anything from him. Tell Seungkwan that I miss him too, but that I’ve missed him long before I left the Golden Palace. -Fortitude

—LORD JUN—

The wind was softer and the sun hid behind the clouds more often after that night at the rocks. It was hard for Jun to explain, but after that day, something had changed. You let him in, and suddenly, things were different. You would ask Jun to braid your hair again, and he’d do it with a smile. He found himself craving more.

So when he asks you if you were born as a Gift of the Spirit, he knows he’s been thinking about the question long before he felt comfortable enough to ask it. 

“No.” You tell him, kicking your feet in the sand. “I was born normal. Just like anyone else.” 

“Oh,” Jun says softly. 

“It happened when I was six.” You continue. “The other six Gifts came to my village, told me I was destined to be Fortitude, and that was that.” 

“Six?” Jun repeats, saddened by how young you were. You nod. “You never got to be a kid.” 

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

And when the frown that appears on your lips pulls at a certain part of Jun, he decides he wants to help you take back a little piece of your stolen past. “Tell me something you wish you could’ve done.” 

You squint at him. 

“As a child, what’s one thing you wish you could’ve done?” 

You exhale deeply. “Oh, I don’t know.” You pause, then laugh a little. “I guess, run.” 

It was Jun’s turn to squint. “Run?”

“I mean to run like a child. Barefoot and wild and mad.” 

Jun starts pulling his shoes off. 

“Well,” Jun states when you give him a blank stare, “are you going to run with me or what?”

Slowly, you begin pulling your boots off too. Then once you’re both barefoot, feet sinking in the cold sand, Jun nods, and 

you run. 

By the time you stop, the air has emptied itself from Jun’s lungs. You, on the other hand, glow with something Jun can’t put his finger on, but you glow and smile so brightly Jun thinks the numbness in his legs is worth it. 

Jun only realizes you’ve run as far as the rocks when you start climbing up to the top of Angel’s Peak. Jun begrudgingly climbs up the cliff behind you. 

When you finally reach the top, Jun sits, exhausted and lets his legs dangle over the edge. He inhales, refilling his lungs with the sea’s salty mist. 

Jun loves the sea. He loves the water. It’s almost as if the water is a part of him, as if the salty sea carries his heart between the waves. And somehow the water loves Jun back. Jennie used to call him a mermaid because of how well he swims, and at one point, Jun had convinced himself he was. Jun feels at home by the sea. He feels peace listening to the seagulls and the lapping water. If time allowed it, Jun would spend years staring at the blue water. 

Today however, sitting on top of the rocky cliffs with the Gift of Fortitude, Jun doesn’t watch the sun dip into the ocean and disappear beyond the horizon. Today Jun watches you. He watches how you seem to be smiling without a smile. He watches the water spray on your forehead and the scrunch of your nose when it does. He watches stories of a kingdom before his birth and of people he will never meet unfold behind your eyes. He wonders how much time he could spend staring at you. 

You meet his eyes, and Jun doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look so happy. Yet for some reason, when your lips do turn up in a smile, all he can think of is the image of you at the sanctuary. How you knelt on the floor and clutched the crushed marble belonging to the Sin of Pride. All he can think of is the soul-crushing amount of hurt in your cries. 

Jun hesitates. 

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?” 

In that moment, the seagulls seem to turn quiet, and the waves seem to pause a second away from hitting the rocks. Jun thinks he’s gone too far or that he’s asked you too much. In that moment, Jun wants to swallow the words back. But before he can, the seagulls break their silence, screeching somewhere in the clouds. And the waves don’t just hit the rocks, they slam and bang and beat against them. Jun coughs the words up before he can take them back. Your lips part, and Jun’s forced to watch as a new story unfolds behind your eyes, one of youth, loss, hurt, and hate. And then you surprise him by smiling. 

“The Sin of Pride,” you start tucking your knees under your chin, “was my best friend before I was a Gift and he was a Sin. His name was Chan, and we grew up in the same village. He was announced as the Sin of Pride a week before I was.” 

Jun repeats the name in his mind. Then once outloud. You blink as if it’s weird to hear it said by someone else. It sparks Jun’s curiosity, and he wonders aloud if you had a name before Fortitude. 

“I did, but I’m no longer the person that name was given to.” You say, voice low and cold. 

“Forgive me if I intruded.” 

You shake your head. “You asked. There’s a difference.” 

He turns his eyes to the water. “Is it hard to remember?” 

“Usually.” You tell him with a small pout. Then after a pause you add: “When I think about the past, there’s this fog, and that fog makes remembering painful. In fact the headache I had the morning we first met was caused by trying to remember something the night before. But right now, the fog in my mind isn’t so thick; right now, I’m not struggling to remember.” 

Jun listens to you speak intently. He doesn’t want to push you, but he can’t help his own curiosity. So when Jun hears an invitation laced within the tone of your voice. Jun realizes that some part of you wants to remember as much as Jun wants to know. 

And so, he says: “Tell me about your past.”

And you do. 

You tell Jun about the village you grew up in and your parents. You describe to him how different and peaceful the kingdom was under the reign of the Queen who ruled when you were young. You tell him about Chan and the week he was taken. Then, you tell him about the week you were taken yourself. 

“Back then, all the Sins and Gifts were adored by the people, they were loved.” You recall, and Jun can’t help but notice the jealousy that seeps between the crack in your voice. “They rode with such confidence and were respected by the people. So respected that my mother didn’t even hesitate to let them take me away.” This time sadness is what seeps through the crack.  

“Where’d they take you?” 

You halt at Jun’s question. “I don’t remember,” you say slowly as if you aren’t sure of the words leaving your own mouth. “The next thing I do remember is arriving at the Golden Palace, but by then, they had already made me the Gift of Fortitude.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m not sure.” You scratch at your chin. “And now that I think about it, it must’ve been at least a year between when I left my family to when I was taken to the Golden Palace.” 

Jun turns to you, wondering how you could possibly lose an entire year of memory, and then wondering how terrible it must be for you knowing that you have. 

“Did you get to see your family again?” 

You shake your head. “My mother fought and died in the Holy Wars. I saw my father once, after it was all over, but he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with the person who was on the side of the war his wife died fighting against.” 

“But what about the fact that you're his daughter?”

You bite your bottom lip. “At that point, he no longer saw me as his daughter.”

Jun can’t imagine how much it must hurt to admit, especially considering how much it hurts Jun to even hear. 

“But it was okay, because I never really knew my father and because I had Chan.” You tell Jun with a smile. “By the time we became Sins and Gifts, the two groups were already fighting; they just hadn’t made it into a war yet. The Queen went as far as having the Gifts and Sins stay in opposite wings of the Golden Palace to avoid confrontation. Chan and I used to sneak out to the palace roof at nights just to talk. But then,” your smile turns down, “the Queen was killed.”

Jun knows this part although you repeat the story written in textbooks anyways. The Queen was murdered under an order from the Gifts, and by the time her son, Jeonghan, took the throne, the Seven Gifts had fled from the palace, marking the start of the Holy Wars.

“I didn’t see Chan much after that. The next and last time I saw him was right before he died.” You continue. 

“Is that why you switched sides?” 

You nod. “As Sins and Gifts, we’re gifted with fighting skill, but our injuries are fatal. That’s how most of the Sins and Gifts died during the Holy Wars. So when I heard news that Chan had been injured, I knew it was only a matter of time until he would be dead too. He was being nursed inside the Golden Palace, and as a Gift, I wasn’t allowed in. So King Jeonghan struck me a deal. Jeonghan said that if I protected him and stayed loyal to him until his death, he would allow me to come to the palace and see Chan.”

You stop to breathe. Jun doesn’t say anything, but you watch him as if you’re waiting for him too. Jun thinks it’s wrong, what King Jeonghan did. Jun thinks he had no right to make you indebted to him. Somehow, you seem to sense what Jun’s thinking. 

“It’s easy to point blame, but in reality, the line between right and wrong and between good intentions and bad ones are more blurred than they appear. Jeonghan wasn’t much older than me. Jeonghan watched his mother die in the wake of this conflict between the Sins and Gifts, a conflict he had nothing to do with. Jeonghan was as young and as desperate and as scared as I was, only he was the King. By then, I was only 12. I didn’t know much better. I was desperate and more scared of losing my best friend over the trust of the last remaining Gift so… I accepted. I sacrificed everything to watch Chan take his dying breath.” 

Through the memories you share with him, Jun begins to understand. He learns more about the Holy Wars through your pain and fear than he ever did in his history lessons. But most of all, Jun understands that you were too young to shoulder the weight of war. 

“When the last remaining Gift other than me died, I gave up the war. I ended five years of wasted blood and pointless death just like that.” You pick at the sand under your nail. “I never liked the war. I was never even told what we were fighting for until the war was over.” You say, and if you can tell how surprised Jun is to hear that you didn't even know the reason for the Holy Wars, you ignore it. “I fought blindly, and I surrendered blindly too.” 

Jun stays silent, but his mind runs wild. How many days did you spend on a battlefield? How many lives did you take? How much blood did you allow to shed for a cause you didn’t even know? 

“Do you regret it?” He asks, focused on the water because at that moment Jun can’t trust himself to look at you. 

You’re quiet. 

“I regret it all.” 

The image of you weeping in the sanctuary appears in Jun’s mind again. He hears something new in his memory of your cries. He hears regret. 

The small part of Jun that’s upset with you dissolves the moment he looks over and sees the regret that darkens your eyes. In that moment, Jun can’t manage to feel anything but pity towards the person next to him. 

“It's terrible what I did.” You say solemnly. “I sat idly by while half the kingdom died before my eyes. I know that people call me a monster, and how can I say that I’m not when I’m responsible for the deaths of so many?” You look at him, but Jun feels frozen because he can’t seem to let go of the fact that you were only 12 when this all happened. 

“Fortitude,” Jun says gently with all the love he can muster. Love to make up for the hate you so deeply feel. Not towards anyone, not towards the world. But the shocking amount of hate you feel towards yourself. “No part of you is a monster. Because the Holy Wars were not your fault. And because it never will be.” 

Jun can see something in you come apart. Jun can see the deep-rooted hate you have harbored for yourself escape from the corners of your eyes. 

And when Jun says, “The sins of your predecessors are not yours to suffer,” he swears he hears something within you break.

You both stare at the sea in a deafening silence. It’s a long time before anyone speaks again. But by the time Jun does say something, the heavy air has been taken away by the current. 

“Although I’m still curious,” you motion for Jun to continue, “what did the Holy Wars turn out to be about?” 

You close your eyes and keep them closed for longer than Jun can call normal. When you do open your eyes again, they’re angry, and there’s just a hint of venom in your voice when you say: “I can’t remember.” 

You throw your hands up. “Oh Jun, there’s so much I don’t know. About this kingdom and its history. About me and what it means to be a Gift of the Spirit. I don’t even know if there was a Gift of Fortitude before me. All of these things I was supposed to learn from the other Gifts. They were meant to teach me and mentor me, but they were too concerned with their own conflict. They left me with so many unanswered questions and unsolved mysteries. Half of which concern myself. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it is if Jeonghan didn’t have all the libraries burned to the ground and all of the historic scrolls and teachings from the Elders reduced to ashes with it. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

You sigh, but in the next moment you’re nearly laughing. Jun helplessly wonders how you’re able to change your mood so quickly, and then he wonders how you’re able to let go of things so easily. 

“You know Jun, I’ve never told anyone these things before.” You say with the likeness of a laugh. 

Jun tilts his head to the side. “Why not?”

“No one’s ever asked.”

Jun watches the waves. He finds a picture of himself in the waves and one of you in the rocks. For he appears and is tall, grand, rolling, and proud, but then he crashes and disappears back into the murky waters. And the rocky cliffs watch it all happen. You are the cliff, still and unyielding; while Jun is just another wave, there in the moment and gone in the next.

“Did you love him?” Jun asks then, the image of the wave crashing against the rock replaying in his mind. 

“Chan?” 

Jun nods, and you look up to the sky. 

“I was too young to even know what love looked like.”

It’s then that Jun tastes the salt on his lips. 

***

After that day, you’re bedridden for some time with a migraine. You spend so long locked in your room with the lights off, Jun tries sending you a nurse. You refuse the help stubbornly but politely. The next time he sees you is when you feel well enough to join him for dinner. 

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He says as Mina brings out plates with your meals. 

“I am, thank you Jun.” You take a bite of your food. 

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?” 

You nod. “I’ve never been able to recall that much before.” The statement sounds sad to Jun, and yet, you say it happily. “The pain of the headache was worth how good it felt to remember.”  

“Have you forgotten what you remembered?” Jun asks, thinking back to when you said you usually forget again after. 

“Oddly enough, I have not.” You smile. Jun feels a little hot; he thinks the fire must’ve grown in the hearth.   

“Jun, do you know what Fortitude means?” Jun shakes his head at your question as your dinner comes near an end. “I was told it meant courage.” You continue, clinking your fork against the plate.”And it feels like such a burden. To carry this responsibility. And to carry this name.” 

Jun stares at you. He watches the way your arms dangle by your side as if they would fall off at the drop of a hat. He watches how you keep your eyes on your now empty plate. He watches you keep a smile on your face despite the way your voice sounds so sad. 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” 

“That’s alright Jun.” The corner of your lip quirks. “Sometimes it’s more important to be heard than to be understood.” 

You stand up and excuse yourself from dinner. Jun watches you go. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

When Wonwoo finally returns to Jun’s estate, it feels like he’s been gone for an eternity. You’re out in the market with Mina when he comes riding down the street on horseback. You call his name until he turns towards you. You have to unwrap the scarp you have fitted around your head and face before he recognizes you. 

Later that day, you and Wonwoo ride on horseback through a forest trail. You wonder aloud why he isn’t tired after sitting on a saddle for the better part of the day. He shrugs and says something about not minding the pain of riding in exchange for the scenery. 

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about something.” You can hear the concern in Wonwoo’s voice. You sit up on your horse. “Jun’s father’s death anniversary is approaching.”

Oh. 

“He tends to get very…” Wonwoo trails off, scratching the stubble growing on his chin. “He just isn’t himself during this part of the year. I thought you might appreciate a warning.” 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” You wait a beat. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

“How do you mean?” 

“I heard you were close to Jun’s father.”

“Oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I’ll be fine. It’s Jun I worry about.” 

“And who’s here to worry about you?” 

Wonwoo sighs. “Thank you for the concern.” 

***

The day of the anniversary itself, Wonwoo spends the entire day in his room and Jun disappears somewhere on the beach, only returning to the estate to ready himself for the temple service that night. You think that the whole estate, not just the residents, but the walls, the stone, the furniture, the rugs; the whole estate seems to be in mourning. You find yourself wanting to mourn too. 

There’s a knock on your door later that day while you’re reading a Risal from Seokmin. 

“Come in.” 

“Lady Gift, it’s time for the memorial service.” 

You hum. “Give my peace to Lord Jun and Captain Wonwoo.” 

“Uh, no, Lady Gift.” Mina shifts her weight. You look over to where she stands by the door. “It’s time for you to get dressed for the service.” You stare at Mina. “Lord Jun requested that you attend the service as well.” 

“Oh,” you’re taken aback. You hadn’t realized you were wanted. 

You come down dressed in the traditional red color worn during burials and memorials. You do your best to find a red scarf to match. You meet Jun downstairs, and he tells you that you’re still waiting for Wonwoo. 

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure and timid. Suddenly the clothes feel itchy on your skin. “Jun, are you sure you want me to come?”

Jun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you” 

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”     

Jun pouts. “There's a dock on the east side of the beach my father used to take me to. I went there today. While I was there, I was thinking about the service tonight, and I found myself thinking about you.” You swallow. “I thought about all that you shared with me the other day and about all the death you’ve seen. It’s probably better that you never knew my father. You have enough fires to light and people to mourn as it is. Remember one of them instead.”

Wonwoo appears then before you can say anything back, and you all, including Mina, head to the temple in a solemn silence. 

The temple is a sea of red. Wonwoo whispers to you that Jun’s father was loved by the people. You think that loved is an understatement; nearly the entire town has come out for the memorial service. 

You watch the fire rage. It was tradition to light fires for the dead. Years ago, fires were only lit 30 days after the death itself, but somewhere along the line, it had been normalized to light fires on the death anniversaries as well. The fire the temple has lit tonight burns bright and tall, as tall as the temple itself. The air around the temple is more smoke and flames than oxygen. You almost feel as if you’re suffocating, not from the smoke, but from the strife of an entire town which burns in the fire and contaminates the air. You choke on the sadness saturating your lungs and lingering in your veins. Your heart empties in tune with the mourning of the people for their beloved Lord. 

You inhale. 

You watch as Jun and Wonwoo throw burning logs into the flames. Soon after, others follow, throwing their own burning logs into the growing fire. You have to take a step back from the flame. Or rather Mina pulls you back muttering something about how the flying embers are dangerous. But you could care less. All you can manage to do is stare at the service unfolding before you, stunned. You have never seen a memorial service quite like this one. At the palace, the services were kept small and formal, limited to few guests and even smaller fires. But here, in these southern lands that you’re coming to love, even little children throw in twigs picked up from the nearby forest. The entire town throws in something. The entire town gets to remember the lost soul. You think that in some twisted way, it's beautiful. It’s beautiful how no one is left to mourn alone. 

You listen in on a group nearby, enough to hear that the group is sharing memories and stories of Jun’s father. The group erupts in laughter. It seems out of place almost, such loud laughter in the midst of a memorial service, but when you look around the crowd you see a similar image in every corner. The people laugh and smile. They remember with joy. You recall that day on Angel’s Peak with Jun and how good it felt to recall a part of your past. You think this must be like that. Loss was painful, but forgetting was worse. And through remembering, these people have made their pain their own to mend, bend, and break. 

It dawns on you then that the people are throwing in the love they can’t give as much as they’re throwing in their sadness for the loss. You learn that the fire before you doesn’t just rage, but that it cries and laughs as well. You learn that the wild warmth is more than just a fire; it’s an image of their love and loss. 

Jun appears beside you then. He doesn’t look as happy as the others, but he looks less sad than he did before. He hands you a log and lights it with a match. You watch the fire eat up the wood in your hand before throwing it into the orange flames. Normally, only direct family members are allowed to throw things in the fire. So when Jun hands you the log to throw, it’s actually the first time you've ever been allowed to do so. 

The last memorial you attended was for the princes’ mother. It was also the last time their father, the King, looked human to you. 30 days after her death a fire was lit by the palace temple. Seungkwan had just been born, still only an infant held in his father's arms. Soonyoung and Seokmin were young as well, and the two boys clung to their father’s legs crying more out of confusion than anything else. You watched it all happen from a corner. You watched as the four boys, the King and his sons, weeped for their lost love. You watched as they threw in burning logs. And you watched it all behind a blur of your own tears. 

You had burned a fire for your old friend, and you had burned a fire Jeonghan. But you never even lit a match for Chan; and worse than that, you never bothered to mourn the loss of your mother and father. 

Jun was right. You have plenty of fires to burn and logs to throw. So when a child passes by with a wagon of sticks in tow, you don’t hesitate to grab a handful. You throw one in for the princes’ mother, the friend that made you feel human again. You throw one in for Jeonghan, the tortured teen who understood. You throw a stick for Chan who you sacrificed everything for. You throw two in for your mother and father who you lost long before their hearts stopped beating. You throw in several for the other Sins and Gifts who created that pointless war and left you lost in your own immortal soul. You throw in the rest for Lord Mark and all the lives that have been taken by your hands. You throw your regret into the fire and mourn. 

You forget Jun’s next to you, until he puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You lean into his touch, and the two of you mourn together.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You spend another sleepless night in bed thinking of Soonyoung, thinking of the King, thinking of this kingdom. And when sunlight peaks from behind your curtains, you decide you’re tired of waiting. You send a hopeful Risal to Prince Soonyoung. 

The Risal returns while you’re shooting arrows alone. When Wonwoo came back and learned how you were using plates as targets and Jun as a stand, he had crafted targets hanging from the tree branches for you to use instead. You were thankful for Wonwoo’s generosity, but now, as you notch another arrow through your bowstring, you feel Jun’s absence greatly. 

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud. 

It’s while you’re pulling the arrows from the target and placing them back in your quiver that you hear the Risal’s screech. You hold your arm out and wait for the bird to swoop down.  

No message, you think when the Risal comes back empty. You aren’t surprised that Soonyoung received your message but didn’t bother to send one back. You have been sending the eldest Prince Risals since he departed from the Golden Palace at the start of spring, and every single one of your Risals came back with no reply. So no, you aren’t surprised, but that doesn’t stop the way your shoulders sag and your lips dip in a repetitive, dull dissapointment. 

You spend the rest of the day drowning in your own worries. 

And when your thoughts somehow travel to Wonwoo’s handcrafted hanging targets. And to Jun and how he opened up his home to you, and how he listens. You decide it’s time to tell Captain Wonwoo and Lord Jun the truth; the truth you owe them. 

“Did Soonyoung respond to your Risal?” Jun asks at dinner that night. You answer his questions with a tired sigh and a small no. 

You recognize that it’s time to repay their kindness with honesty. So when Jun and Wonwoo share a look and ask you timidly why exactly Prince Soonyoung was sent away to begin with, you know. This is your chance. So you take it by the neck and run. 

You recall to Jun and Wonwoo the day things started changing within the Golden Palace. The day Soonyoung came to you sad and betrayed and alone. 

“This isn’t right,” Soonyoung muttered to you on that cold winter day. He sat in your sitting room, his hands holding up his head from falling off his shoulders altogether. You took a long sip of your tea. This was no surprise to you. From the day Soonyoung had turned old enough to understand the workings of this kingdom and sit in on council meetings, he had been meeting with you like this. Letting you in on his doubts about the policies being put in order. About this kingdom. Doubts about his place as a Prince and other ones about his own father. Eventually, Seokmin joined these meetings. Then Seungkwan did too. It had become custom, for the four of them, a Gift of the Spirit and three Princes, to sit in your sitting room, to talk about and worry for your kingdom, that was slipping into disorder and that you all loved so much.

On that cold winter day, however, only Soonyoung sat with you. Seokmin was on a northern campaign, and Seungkwan travelled with the Knights of the Holy Order leading his knights as their Commander, and all too young for the responsibility and the role. But an amazing Commander nonetheless. 

“He can’t do this,” Soonyoung had groaned, “and I’m not sure how much longer I can sit by and watch.” 

You halted, your teacup moments away from reaching your lips. You set it back down. 

“Prince Soonyoung, what are you suggesting?” 

He huffed and shook his head. You had thought he looked wild and angry and unhinged. “He’s set himself on a course to drive this kingdom into the dirt. Father hasn’t been himself for some time now. Something is wrong. Something that we can’t see. And the longer we wait, the worse he’ll get.”

“Soonyoung,” you said again, the name sounding like a plea. 

“He is no longer fit to be king!” Soonyoung slammed his hand down on the table. 

You clicked your tongue, unaffected by Soonyoung’s sudden outburst. “So it’s a coup you’re suggesting then?” 

He sighed. “I’ve already decided. He has to be stopped.” He paused, looking at you with eyes that reminded you of the days he and his brothers would run around the palace courtyard. Your heart ached at the memory. “I want you to help me. But I’ll do this without your help too.”

And so you started planning Soonyoung’s eventual overthrow of the King and of his father. 

“We kept it a secret, Soonyoung and I,” you continue. Jun and Wonwoo listen silently but intently. “We didn’t even tell his brothers. The only other person we told was Hansol. And while we plotted against the King, I started remembering things. For some reason, being around Soonyoung so much, helped me remember. The memories are broken and blurry, but in them I saw flashes of my past and found forgotten conversations with the King. He would speak with me privately quite often as a consultant of sorts. And it was in recovering those shared words, that things really started to change for Soonyoung and me. Because in my memories, the King sounds as insane as the rebellious eastern Lords make him out to be. In one moment, he’s crying about how alone he feels in this world and how he longs to go home. And in the next, he’s asking me how he can talk to Angels. It was clear to Soonyoung and I that his father wasn’t himself anymore. The King had gone mad. 

“We started hearing about his experiments at the start of summer. The King insisted that these experiments would allow him to talk to an Angel and that they’d make him less lonely. And you must understand, all of this was hard for Soonyoung. It was difficult for him to watch his own father spiral into insanity. So when Soonyoung got evidence of the King’s experiments, he took matters into his own hands. He openly defied his father, in front of the council, and so the King sent him away.

“They’re both so impulsive it’s almost laughable how the whole thing played out. But either way, the night before he left Soonyoung came to me and told me how he wasn’t giving up. He told me that when he returned to the Golden Palace it’d be as the King. So I told him…” You trail off, searching for the best way to say this next part without making yourself sound as mad as the King. 

It’s Wonwoo who asks, leaning off the edge of his seat like he can’t stand the suspense of it. “What did you tell Prince Soonyoung?” 

“I told him to go to the Nomads’ Lands.” 

Jun chokes on his water. 

You continue on with the story, unbothered. 

“Although the King was the one to send him away, I think he was also the saddest to watch Soonyoung go. I know it must be hard to believe, but the King wasn’t always as crazy as he is now. He’s always been impulsive, yes, but he used to be strong, charming, kingly. And he was devastated by his son’s absence in their home. Ultimately, I think that’s what drove him over the edge. That’s what made him so desperate to stop feeling so alone. So desperate he injected Lord Mark with one of his experiments, and he made me watch. But I knew as well as the King that the experiment had gone wrong. Yet he insisted on it working. He was so desperate he convinced himself that if we just waited everything would work out. Lord Mark was locked in the palace prisons that night, and no one but the King and I knew.

“I told you,” you look at Jun, “that I had my reasons. I didn’t want to kill him. I take no pleasure in murder. But the experiment had gone wrong, and Lord Mark was in pain. If you had heard the way he cried and screamed and the way it echoed throughout the prison walls and the way—” 

You break. No, you don’t just break. You shatter. It’s been so long since you’ve made yourself feel the shame of your crimes. But now looking straight into the eyes of the sins you’ve committed. You crack and break and shatter into a million pieces. Each of your infinite shards tainted with a cruel shade of guilt. 

Jun reaches over and covers your hand that rests atop of the table with his own. And although he’s only touching one small part of you, you feel his warmth in every part of your soul.

And when he says, “You took him out of his misery. If I were half as brave as you, I’d do the same,” you feel as if he’s lending you his strength. 

He squeezes your hands once, then pulls away. You feel suddenly, foolishly cold. 

“So that’s why Soonyoung was sent away,” you finish, looking up at Wonwoo and Jun. “And that’s why I was sent away too.” You feel tired and drained. Like you’ve fought off an entire army of men. Like you’ve been swimming against the current of the Zalazar River for years. You wonder helplessly and hopelessly why it’s so exhausting to remember yet so easy to forget. 

It’s Wonwoo who speaks again at last. “Thank you Lady Gift for entrusting us with such sensitive information. I think you know as well as I do that it’s time you tell Prince Seokmin and Prince Seungkwan the truth too.” 

“Yes,” you mutter, already dreading the lengthy Risal you would have to write before bed, “I do.” 

“I’m still curious about one thing,” Jun says with a hand under his chin, “why did you send Soonyoung to the Nomads?���

Suddenly, you’re reminded of your last conversation with Hansol, and how he held your face and begged you to remember and how your head hurt too much to see straight by the end of the night. Yet when Jun asks the same question, his voice bouncing off the walls of your mind, an answer appears as clear as day and as white as snow. When Jun asks, you know. 

“The Nomads weren’t always as they are now. They weren’t as hostile or private. That night, I remembered that the Nomads were known to be bridges between Humans and the Elders. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands in the hopes that they’d share with him the knowledge of the Elders.” 

Jun only nods. And you’re glad for the silence that emerges, because you need a moment to process what you’ve just said yourself. The Elders were known to be channels for the Gods to spout their wisdom and hear the prayers of the people. All historic scrolls and religious teachings were based on the knowledge of the Elders. Another purpose of the Seven Sins and Seven Gifts was to be a bridge between the Elders and the Humans similar to the way the Nomads were a bridge. Perhaps that’s another reason why this kingdom feels so lost. You never learned how to communicate with the Elders. Thanks to Jeonghan and his act of arson, the kingdom has none of the previous teachings from the Elders, and thanks to you, the kingdom has no new ones. 

But still, knowing that doesn’t calm the questions that arise in your mind. What knowledge from the Elders could the Nomads possibly have that would make you send Soonyoung to them? 

The dinner ends abruptly when Wonwoo stands up exclaiming how he’s tired from all that he’s just learned and bids you goodnight. You and Jun do the same soon after. 

You write to Seokmin that night. And in your Risal, you tell him everything. You tell him about Soonyoung, the experiments, Lord Mark, his father, your memories, the Nomads, and more. In the last line you ask Seokmin to extend this information to Seungkwan as well. You seal the letter and climb into bed with aching fingers. 

The response from Seokmin comes a few days later. 

Dear Fortitude, I didn’t know about Lord Mark. Thank you for doing what you did. Not even he deserved to be kept alive in pain and hurting. But everything else, Seungkwan and I, we already knew. Soonyoung told us everything the night before he left. But thank you nonetheless. -Seokmin 

That sounds right to you. Those three boys, those brothers, they were like that. At each other’s throats one day and hugging each other the next. Chasing Seungkwan around the palace grounds. Playing pranks on Soonyoung. And setting silly traps for Seokmin. Tackling each other to the ground and then spilling all their secrets. They’re each other's best friend as much as they’re brothers. It was only natural Soonyoung told them the truth. And you’re glad he did. 

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JUN—

Jun hopes you never learn how to braid your own hair.  Your hair was so soft and it smelled nice too. Jun took some sort of pleasure in being the one to braid your hair back every time the wind was too strong and you forgot a hair tie which happened more often than not. 

“It must be hard,” you say as Jun sections your hair into three parts, “for Wonwoo to spend so much time away from his family.” 

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck. 

“Yes, it must.” 

The next day Jun tells Wonwoo to go back home. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wonwoo laughs, although the laugh sounds hesitant and it sounds lonely. 

“Go home, Wonwoo.” Jun insists. “Paid leave.” 

Wonwoo packs up his things that very night. 

***

You have been quiet for some time now. Not just quiet in sound, but also quiet in the way you walk and eat. You silently send Risals back and forth with Seokmin, and then quietly accept the lack of response from Soonyoung. You quietly begin taking more walks and then silently start taking them alone. You have been quiet since Wonwoo left, but looking back, it appears that this quiet has been looming in the air for some time now. It’s been teetering up behind Jun, taunting him back and forth since the night you told him and Wonwoo everything. Jun isn’t so sure what to make of it. But he does know that he misses you even though you spend every second under the same roof. 

He hates the quiet. 

“Lord Jun! Come quick!” Mina screams from somewhere in the estate. Jun bolts out of his room and finds her running towards him in the halls. “It’s Lady Gift,” she says breathless, eyes wide with worry and fear, “I think she plans to jump.” 

Jun runs. 

He runs past Mina, out of the estate, onto the grassy path, towards the beach, and then westward. He runs and runs and runs. 

And there you are. Standing on top of Angel’s Peak, ready to jump. Silently. Jun’s heart stops. 

“Don’t try to stop me!” You yell at Jun and Mina watching you frozen in the sand. “I’ll jump, and I’ll survive.” 

“Lady Gift!” Mina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“ 

Jun puts a hand on Mina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop. 

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?” 

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond. 

Jun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.” 

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Mina stiffen beside him. 

“Lord Jun, what are you doing?” Mina asks frantically. 

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean. 

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong. 

“Jun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not. 

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear. 

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.” 

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed. 

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.” 

You smirk. Then disappear from Jun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump. 

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall. 

Jun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jun watches. Amazed. 

It’s when Mina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water. 

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath. 

And dives. 

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up. 

But Jun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Mina pulls you both out of the water. And Jun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jun falls into the sand beside you. 

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Mina says scurrying away in the sand. 

Jun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted. 

“It looked like you were dying,” Jun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?” 

“I don’t want to die, Jun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?” 

You shake your head. 

“Then what?” 

“I wanted to feel mortal.” 

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.” 

Jun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.” 

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms. 

—LORD JUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry. 

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not. 

Jun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish. 

Jun extends everything he knows to you. 

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time. 

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean. 

*** 

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Wonwoo asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.” 

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.” 

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display. 

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.” 

Jun smiles a bit. “How so?” 

You hesitate, looking at Jun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.” 

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jun feels suddenly warm. 

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.” 

“Is it?” 

Jun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.” 

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jun. 

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?” 

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Jeonghan died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…” 

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end. 

This time the tapping comes from Jun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?” 

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Jeonghan died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face. 

“I remember the fire that was lit for Jeonghan, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met the princes’ mother.”

You pause, and in the silence Jun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat. 

“I’m scared, Jun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Wonwoo, Hansol, Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungkwan; hell even Mina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn. 

“Oh how happy Wonwoo will be to hear all this.” 

Jun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.” 

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away. 

“And Jun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.” 

Jun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning. 

***

Jun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive. 

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other. 

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?” 

“Perhaps.” 

Jun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Hansol?” Jun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jun are sitting in the courtyard. 

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap. 

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?” 

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly. 

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want. 

You read and then reread the letter from Seungkwan. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Seungkwan, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Seungkwan never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Seungkwan; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Seungkwan climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince. 

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Seungkwan is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.  

“Is something wrong?” Jun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Seungkwan’s heart in your bags.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back. 

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Seungkwan then?” The question sounds hopeful. 

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Seungkwan is like a child to me.” 

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?” 

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Seungkwan since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Wonwoo by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Seungkwan still acts like a child.” Jun smiles at that. 

“Oddly enough,” Jun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.” 

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Seungkwan’s apology. Something in your mind clicks. 

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Seungkwan. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Seungkwan can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.” 

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Seungkwan, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.” 

You repeat it in your mind. 

He doesn’t want to lose you either. 

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Seungkwan’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Seungkwan feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Seungkwan must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself. 

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept. 

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms. 

***

That night she sends a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Seungkwan.

—LORD JUN—

Jun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Seungkwan. 

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Jennie?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.” 

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?” 

“Actually,” Jun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?” 

***

The boat ride to the island Jennie lives on is pleasant. Jun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Jennie, and you listen to Jun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Jennie’s children and then some more for yourselves. 

By late afternoon they reach Jennie and her husband Seungcheol’s house. Jun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters. 

“Hold on,” Jun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.” 

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible. 

The sea. 

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jun feels at home despite being hours away from it. 

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more. 

“Uncle Jun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug. 

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.” 

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand. 

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jun clutches his stomach in laughter. 

“Jun!” Jennie yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!” 

“You’re torturing them Jennie!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.” 

Jennie scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jun into a hug.

Jun leads Jennie to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Jennie resposds that she’s napping and that Seungcheol’s watching her. 

You stand up to greet Jennie. 

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.” 

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.” 

“Well, in that case,” Jennie coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.” 

***

Jennie, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Jennie begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jun and Seungcheol are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Seungcheol puts up the cards while Jun watches you and Jennie converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably. 

“Jun, you must stay here longer.” Seungcheol insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.” 

Jun hesitates. “I don’t know. Wonwoo is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.” 

“Oh please,” Jennie dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Wonwoo sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.” 

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jun. I had no idea.” Jun dismisses the apology.                     

Seungcheol and Jennie share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Jennie scoffs, turning dramatically to you. 

“Would you mind humouring Seungcheol with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Wonwoo and you went. Jun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing. 

“I’m no joke.” Seungcheol defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.” 

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Seungcheol takes it eagerly. 

Jun likes this. How you tease Seungcheol. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence. 

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Seungcheol yelps in shock, and Jennie hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jun, and the two of you share a look of your own. 

And through the silent conversation, Jun knows. Wonwoo would have to wait a bit longer for your return. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Wonwoo telling him that you and Jun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jun I said happy birthday. You do. 

Later that day, Jennie requests you and Jun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night. 

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand. 

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once. 

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jun. Jun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb. 

But then Jun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue. 

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JUN— The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Jennie and Seungcheol seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jun happy as well. 

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Jennie’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat. 

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.” 

“Here.” Jun hands you the extra coat. 

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?” 

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.” 

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time. 

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.” 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.” 

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jun not telling you was an insult. Jun positions himself closer. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible. 

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Jennie and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jun comes to realize that what you tell him  now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to. 

He stares at you, frozen. And Jun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Chan, Jeonghan, your parents, the princes’ mother. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured. 

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Wonwoo, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.” 

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips. 

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders. 

—LORD JUN—

Jun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do. 

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jun’s restless heart. 

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”   

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jun’s coat. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further. 

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Jennie announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Jennie who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed. 

“How about this?” Jennie offers holding up a red dress. 

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?” 

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.” 

“And why would I want to do that?” 

“For Jun.” Jennie says it blandly. 

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jun?” You echo. 

“Nevermind then,” Jennie sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Jennie leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness. 

The bodice of the dress Jennie brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways. 

Jennie was right. Jun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?” 

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Jennie lent it to me for the night.” 

“Ah,” Jun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t? 

The dinner is a feast like Jennie had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jun follow you out. 

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up. 

“Please, Jun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back. 

“No. Tell me what’s happened.” 

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.” 

You push your door open, and Jun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near. 

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Jennie’s red dress in your hands. 

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound. 

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.” 

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of. 

Jun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you. 

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jun’s voice. 

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.” 

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love. 

You fling your hand out of Jun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jun. 

And suddenly, Jun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently. 

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder. 

“Leave me be, Jun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jun shuts the door quietly. 

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well. 

*** 

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head. 

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JUN—

Jun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops. 

Dear Jun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either.  But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please.  -Jun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Jeonghan. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind. 

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him. 

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body. 

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jun again, really look at Jun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do. 

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything. 

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy. 

—LORD JUN—

Jun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now. 

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jun’s face.  

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jun. 

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips. 

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?” 

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.” 

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home. 

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Wonwoo. He nods, turning to you. 

“And how about you, what do you miss?” 

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water. 

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jun counts the seconds.  One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four.  Five.  (He kisses you) Six. 

You return to the estate finally, greeting Wonwoo drenched and swollen with love.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jun return from Jennie and Seungcheol’s home that you and Wonwoo fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jun. And when you told Wonwoo at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well. 

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Wonwoo attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Wonwoo is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Wonwoo would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Wonwoo gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Wonwoo in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Wonwoo for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jun to watch. 

—LORD JUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jun. Jun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Wonwoo catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves. 

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jun must do work in his office, Wonwoo and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Seokmin and Seungkwan and another unanswered one to Soonyoung. 

You and Wonwoo continue training without Jun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Wonwoo, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight. 

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Mina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy. 

The happiest you look, however, is when Mina asks you to teach her something. You make Mina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jun mentions this, you deny it telling Jun it’s only because you taught Hansol and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Mina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jun has never been so happy. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Seungkwan. 

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Seokmin and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Seokmin fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Soonyoung soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Soonyoung as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Hansol and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Hansol a punch for me. -Seungkwan 

You think a visit from Hansol might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Wonwoo and Jun. 

***

You’re in the kitchen with Mina eating fruit when Hansol arrives. 

“He’s here.” Jun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods. 

So you grab his hand and run. 

The first thing you do when you see Hansol is punch him, as hard as Seungkwan would. 

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?” 

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Seungkwan.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.” 

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Hansol, Jun, and Wonwoo have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Hansol some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk. 

“How long are you staying?” 

Hansol sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.” 

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.” 

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Hansol says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Seungkwan told me you two made peace.” 

“We did.” You hum with a smile. 

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Hansol tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, Jennie, Seungcheol, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Hansol the specifics. 

Hansol listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jun?” 

Your mouth drops, and you look at Hansol shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.” 

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.” 

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Hansol happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Hansol.” 

He stops in his tracks. “Really?” 

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Wonwoo and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response. 

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.” 

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Hansol jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight. 

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Hansol laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jun, Wonwoo, Mina, the guards, Hansol’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Hansol, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Hansol is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Hansol will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Wonwoo, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything. 

You circle each other for a second, and when Hansol does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Hansol is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Hansol is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Hansol the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back. 

“Surrender.” You pant. 

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.” 

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause. 

—LORD JUN— “Does that hurt?” Jun asks you, poking at one of the bruises on your stomach that’s already turning purple and blue. You don’t even wince. 

“Not anymore.” You say nonchalantly pulling the end of your shirt back down. It was only minutes ago that you and Hansol were pouncing on each other in the courtyard like wildcats. Hansol was so exhausted after the fight he probably would have passed out there on the grass if Wonwoo hadn’t dragged him back to his room to rest up. You, on the other hand, look as if you’ve only gone on an easy run. Jun walked you to your room expecting you to want to rest, but instead you’re laying on the bed with him looking rather awake. 

“Are you even tired?” He asks. 

You shrug. “About as tired as I am after our swims.”

Jun chuckles. “I suppose another power you wield is the inability to tire then.” 

You hum, pouting your lips. “Does it make you upset when I’m fighting?” 

“No. Should it?” 

“No, it’s just that” you hesitate, “there have been certain men who would take offense when I fought in the past. They found it improper.” Jun snorts, dismissing the notion entirely. You look amused at his response. 

He throws an arm over you. “Actually, it was nice seeing you struggle to win something for once.” 

You roll your eyes. “You should see the other guy.” 

“I did.” Jun says gravely. “And I’m afraid he won’t wake up after that fight.” 

You scoff. “He’ll be fine. Plus,” your voice turns serious, “I actually did struggle to win that fight.” 

Jun looks at you unamused. “Is that a joke?” 

You lift your head from the bed. “What?”  

“The fight didn’t even last five minutes. Hansol barely got in five good punches.” 

“Exactly,” you defend, “that’s the most I’ve struggled in a fight since the Holy Wars.” 

Jun drops his head back on the bed. “You’re unbelievable. I’m taking a nap now, goodnight.” 

You roll him off the bed. 

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Hansol all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Mark’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.  

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Soonyoung the night before he left?” 

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Soonyoung that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh. 

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember. 

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?” 

“Soonyoung told Seokmin and Seungkwan before he left. Seungkwan told me. We all had questions for you. But Seokmin was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Seungkwan weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?” 

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Soonyoung that night?”

You look at Jun. Then Wonwoo. Then Hansol; he nods. All three watch you carefully. 

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin” 

Jun and Wonwoo look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel. 

Hansol starts laughing at the madness of it all. 

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Jeonghan, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Soonyoung.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jun, Hansol, and Wonwoo, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Soonyoung. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Soonyoung find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jun, Wonwoo, and Hansol have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings. 

“What is that?” 

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.” 

“No, no. It’s a drawing.” 

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.” 

The three boys share a look. 

“What do you mean you think?” 

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?” 

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Soonyoung.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Soonyoung will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky. 

Hansol shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jun. Weaker than after your fight with Hansol. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory. 

You fall to your knees, Jun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Wonwoo who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jun’s voice in your ear.

—LORD JUN—

Jun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Mina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jun. But last night was nothing like what Jun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jun tries to think of something else. 

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jun asks if you’re feeling any better. 

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed. 

Jun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Soonyoung?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away. 

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Soonyoung, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently. 

Dear Fortitude,  Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near.  -Soonyoung

“What’s it say?” Jun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself. 

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.” 

“Jun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds. 

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.” 

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?” 

“I hate to say it, but you—“ 

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.” 

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Soonyoung’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Hansol’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Soonyoung castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea. 

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jun. 

But you pack your bags instead, send Soonyoung a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jun and Wonwoo that night. You and Hansol would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again.

—LORD JUN—

Jun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Hansol’s squadron and needing to catch up to you. 

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jun realize he’s crying. Hansol leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy. 

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.” 

“All the more reason not to, Jun.” 

He squeezes his arms around you. 

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely. 

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks. 

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—” 

“Tell me something to make me hate you.” 

“—I can’t.” 

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.” 

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other. 

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.” 

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over. 

“I’ll come back, Jun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.” 

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.” 

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i present to you my heart and soul, if you actually read this whole thing wow good for you this fic is way too long for it’s own good but i ended up getting attatched to too many of the plotlines to take anything more out. fun fact, this was actually an original work that I took some stuff out of and converted into a fic. there’s definitely more to come in this story but idk if i’ll ever get around to actually writing it. I just want to share that I’ve been sitting on this wip/world for literally a year now, and if anyone remembers that random soonyoung drabble that i posted last year it’s the same world as this okay bye

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