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wildernessuntothemselves · 1 year

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You Are My Queen Now | Part 10

Word Count: 15.8k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Summary: Growing up as a child of a minor lord, you had it instilled in you since a young age that you needed to find yourself a rich and affluent husband that would not only provide a comfortable life for you, but would also help further your family’s position in the court. So it was of the utmost importance that you remain a virgin in order to land such a coveted husband.

The problem lies when the man you secretly love, Prince Beomgyu, suddenly and unabashedly propositions you.

Warnings: extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics, manipulative characters, mentions of and justifications of rape and blaming someone for their own rape, mentions of miscarriages, period inaccurate lingerie, spanking, cheating, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, orgasm denial, cumming on face, idk what else.

You quickly fall into a comfortable routine at the castle as the weeks pass by. Breakfast first before heading to court then archery and sparring practice, followed by lunch and some lessons with Wonyoung, then dinner and maybe a walk in the garden with Beomgyu before heading to bed.

Today is no different. You wake up before he does, warm and safe in his arms as if nothing in the world could touch you here. You take advantage of the moment and sit there and watch him, getting tangled in his long lashes that kiss his sculpted cheeks, sliding down the slope of his elegant nose, circling the plump curves of his irresistible lips… You could sit here all day and content yourself with the view but you know you have to wake him up. The servants are already knocking on your door.

Reluctantly, as if you're reaching out for an invaluable piece of art, you brush his shaggy hair out of his face, making him stir. “Baby… wake up.”

He has a smile on his face before he even opens his eyes and a smile of your own tugs on your lips as you watch him stretch like a cat, his loose shirt exposing his tummy and nearly falling over his shoulder as he raises his arms up, before they come down around your body and pull you flush against him, finally opening his eyes as he nuzzles your nose with his.

“Beomgyu–” You whine, knowing what he’s up to. Ever since you came back, he’s been a menace to get out of bed. He would pout and whine like a little baby, clinging onto you and burying his face in your neck or your hair or your breasts and beg you to let him hold you just a few moments longer.

But it’s never just a few moments. When you used to indulge him, those moments would stretch to minutes and then hours and before long you would have Wonyoung pounding on the door, demanding you ‘lazy lovebirds’ get up before she kicks your ass. And so after a few close calls, you had to start denying him.

“Just a few more moments, love.” He still tries, attempting to burrow his face in your neck but you keep him at bay. It’s not like you don’t want it too–you’d spend the rest of the day in bed with him if you could, but you know he has responsibilities. He’s the king now, and he can’t just spend all his time with you like he used to do, no matter how badly you both wish that was the case.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not falling for that again and you know it.” You admonish him and he pouts. “Fine then, give me a kiss.”

The way he puckers his lips at you makes you think that it will be a sweet little kiss so you gullibly give in, but as soon as your lips meet his, he’s opening his mouth and deepening it, coaxing you into reciprocating and allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

“Beomgyu…” You whine half-heartedly as his lips detach from your mouth and travel down your neck, leaving a wet trail on your tingling skin while his hand nudges itself between your legs, finding your wetness from last night.

Beomgyu had taken to tormenting and teasing you every night, riling you up to just before your breaking point then stopping and snuggling you to sleep, your wetness covering your thighs and his fingers. It’s part of his plan to drive you crazy and get revenge on you until you’ve proven that you’re not pregnant so he can finally fuck you, and you have to say that it's working all too well.

"If you're not going to make me cum then don't be an asshole and get up." You berate him but he just chuckles against your neck, teasing your pussy with his long fingers.

“Maybe I will this time.” He whispers tantalizingly, pressing a slender finger inside you easily. It’s too little, too slow, too teasing, and yet you cling to the elusive hope, driven by the accumulating desire he’s built over the last few nights. You don’t need much, just a little more…

But then he suddenly stops, taking his hand away from you and you groan loudly.

He shushes you with a sweet little kiss but it doesn’t fool you. You can see the wicked smile on his face. “You said we have to get up now, don’t we, princess?”

You scowl at him. “I hate you.”

____________________________________

Following an otherwise pleasant breakfast, you head to court. You still stand on the sidelines, of course, just watching him handle the various disputes and petitions in admiration.

He looks so respectable and in control when he’s up on that throne, speaking with a confidence you never saw from him before in such official proceedings. He was always timid and unsure at those situations under the unimpressed gaze of his father. So seeing the way he's flourishing now almost brings you to tears. You’re so proud of him, and yet a nagging feeling of melancholy swirls around at the pit of your stomach at not having been there to see his development.

But the one thing that brings you comfort is that when everyone leaves and he turns to you, he’s your little puppy again.

“What do you think? Did I do a good job?” He teases, but you can hear the unspoken need for reaffirmation in his voice. Beomgyu is still looking to you for reassurance at every chance. Despite everything he has accomplished, he still craves your approval and you are more than happy to give it to him. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him back a bit first.

“You were alright.” You feign nonchalance.

He must know you’re kidding but his smile still falls. “Oh, okay.”

“No, baby. I was just teasing. You did great.” You drop your act right away, wrapping your arms around him and trying to make it up to him when he suddenly breaks into a grin and starts tickling you.

That brat, he was just messing with you.

“Stop, stop.” You scream breathlessly but he doesn’t relent. Only when your lungs are empty of air and your sides hurt from laughing does he let up, nuzzling into your neck and asking you one more time, “How did I really do?”

“Amazing.” You pet his hair fondly, making him melt into your touch. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Some of the stars in his eyes have returned. You notice more and more of them everyday and you hope someday you'll be able to see his constellations again. You just have to protect him until then.

“Hey, Beomgyu…” You start hesitantly.

“Uh-oh, I don’t like that face.” He jokes when he notices your serious expression but you can tell that he’s worried.

“About the new project you’re doing, you know, with the peasants.”

He smiles widely. “You like it?” He asks, but then doubt quickly replaces his happiness. “No, you don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t look like that.”

“No, no, I do. I love it. You’re wonderful as always.” You reassure him, which just confuses him more. “Then what’s wrong, princess?”

“I can see that the nobles aren’t happy about sharing their jobs with the peasants.”

“Ah.” His face dawns in realization and you hurry to explain yourself before he misunderstands you. “I personally think it’s great but I’m just worried about you. I’m worried that they might turn on you.”

His expression turns into a thoughtful frown. “What are you getting at, princess?”

“I have an idea. Why not restrict the posts the regular people can take to the non-royal and rural positions?” You suggest, “That way the nobles can keep their elite posts in the city while the common people can still work jobs that are higher than what they’d usually get.”

“Wouldn’t that just be disingenuous?”

“No. The common people would still get a better education and better jobs, but this way you’ll keep the nobles happy too.” You can see the doubt on his face and you sigh, cupping his cheek. “I know it’s not ideal, but I don’t want you to get hurt. And maybe in the future, we can expand on it even more when people are more ready for it.”

He ponders about it for a few moments but the way his face sags helplessly lets you know that he’ll give in before he even opens his mouth.

“Alright, princess. If that’s what you want.”

___________________________

Beomgyu lets you practice archery alongside him these days. You’re not as good as he is but he and the archery master are genuinely helping you now.

"I was a fool for not letting you do this earlier." Beomgyu speaks out as your arrow hits the target.

"Hmm and why is that?" You ask absently, reloading your crossbow.

"I don't know but seeing my princess so concentrated, so skillfully handling something so deadly…" He trails off, walking behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Is kind of hot."

“Beomgyu…” You whine in protest as he kisses your neck.

The nobles living in the castle, Beomgyu’s entourage, and the most trusted servants are certainly aware of the true nature of your relationship but everyone keeps their mouths shut. You’re the king’s, and that’s that. Like Beomgyu once told you, all kings have concubines. It doesn’t matter much if that concubine is another man’s wife. Taehyun wasn’t liked enough for it to matter.

But you still feel uncomfortable letting him feel you up in public, and you hazard a glance at the archery master who in turn tries his best to pretend he’s oblivious to what his king is doing.

"If you like seeing me handling a deadly weapon…” You start, turning around in his arms and smoothly putting some distance between you. “Why don't you give me back my dagger?"

“No.” His smile falls and so does your face, and he hurries to try to salvage the moment. "I'll give you another one. I'll make you one made of gold and studded with diamonds."

You shake your head. "I don’t want that. I just want my dagger back."

“You mean his?” He snaps, scowling, before he lets his frustration out in a sigh. “You know I hate saying no to you so just drop it.”

He says it like it’s inconvenient that he has to turn you down, like it hurts him more to deny you than it hurts you to lose something so valuable to you.

You scoff and turn your back to him. “Whatever.”

But he grabs you, wrapping his arms around you, his hot breath tickling your ear as he scolds you, “You’re being a brat again. You don’t even need it but I offered to replace it with a better one.”

“But I want it. It means something to me.”

His hold gets tighter on you and you know you really pissed him off now. “It shouldn’t mean something to you. I am here. Why are you holding onto something of his?”

You turn around in his arms to confront him. “He was a part of my life. He meant something to me. You have me now but you can’t erase him. You don’t get to have me back as your whore while also erasing the memory of a man who gave me the one thing you couldn’t.”

His eyes gleam dangerously and he tries to gulp down his anger. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I held onto her because she could give me the one thing you can’t–a legitimate heir?”

You slap him but he’s not the least bit upset by it. In fact, he’s smiling smugly. “I thought so.” He murmurs, kissing you. You kiss him back fiercely. He knows just how to rile you up.

Irritated and possessive, your mouth leaves his lips to suck and bite at his neck, no longer caring about who could see. In fact, you wish they would see so they would know just who he belongs to.

You leave angry marks in your wake and he lets you–throwing his head back and moaning shamelessly as you mark him up.

When you’re done, he has a hazy look in his eyes but the smug smile is still on his face. “Fuck, baby, how am I supposed to go to the sparring session like this.” He groans hoarsely as he pushes his hard cock against your stomach.

But you have absolutely no sympathy for his predicament. “Not my problem.”

_______________

Yes, the people in the palace knew to keep their mouths shut. Or maybe they just like Beomgyu and would support him anyway over Taehyun. After all, why wouldn’t they like him? He’s generous and easy-going. Even if they don’t agree with his recent socialist campaign, he’s still much better for them than Taehyun.

But not all of them are so smart. Or perhaps some just think they’re above consequences.

One of those people is Heejin–one of your fellow ladies in waiting who never liked you and always had something passive-aggressive to say to you. She was one of your primary tormentors all your life–the people who never let you forget how much below them you are and how you’ll never be one of them. And it seems like she just couldn’t keep quiet following your return and seeing how you're being treated even better now.

So during one of your tea parties with the ladies, she used the opportunity of Wonyoung stepping to the side to arrange something with the servants to let out a snide remark towards you.

“Everyone is so happy you came back.” She starts, her greasy smirk prominent on her face, and you can just tell that there is something behind it. “Our king especially. He is so stressed with all his duties and obligations but I hear you know how to make him very happy. Maybe if poor Ryujin had learned a thing or two from you she would still be out here with us.”

The reactions around the table vary–some keep their faces neutral, some look uncomfortable, but quite a few let out a snicker. Normally, you’d just keep your head down and take it. You weren’t powerful or important enough to fight back or even object. But you’re different now. Taehyun taught you to stand up for yourself and you’re not about to let this bitch treat you like this anymore.

So you give her a smile and with a steady and pleasant voice, you say, “I would suggest you keep your ugly horse mouth shut before I knock your buck teeth out, my dear lady.”

Everyone around the table freezes in shock and Heejin’s face goes red and she starts sputtering so much you think she might’ve choked.

“You–what–how could–how dare you talk to me that way, you whore?” She shrieks, drawing the attention of Wonyoung whose head snaps towards the table before she quickly rushes back.

“What is going on?”

“The whore just threatened me!” Heejin shouts, her voice going higher than you thought humanly possible. She looked like she’s about to explode right in front of your eyes.

But Wonyoung doesn’t make it any better. “Don’t talk about her that way.” She says, her voice low but serious.

“You’re taking her side?”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. I’m merely telling you that that is no way to address a lady.”

“A lady?” Heejin squawks like a wild animal. “You and your brother have gone mad. I’ve tolerated this long enough but I will not stay here a second longer if you insist on dressing up the whore and masquerading her around as one of us.”

At this point, you’re on your feet and ready to make good on your promise. God, that bitch would look so good with her teeth busted in.

But Wonyoung puts a hand out to stop you and says to Heejin calmly. “Then leave. I will not allow you to stay anyway.”

She makes an unintelligible, indignant sound before finally storming off. But Wonyoung doesn’t mind her, and she turns back to the table. “Anyone else have a problem?”

They all keep quiet. “Good.”

The rest of the tea party is passed by tensely, only you and Wonyoung really talking, with the others putting in a word or two here and there, but you don’t care. You’ve taken their abuse long enough.

To your surprise though, the lady next to you–Chaeyoung, who is also of a less wealthy background than Heejin but not near as low as you–leans in at one point to whisper to you, “Good job. I always hated that bitch.”

You look at her in shock and she sends you a subtle wink, before grabbing her cup and sipping on it daintily.

You smile to yourself as you do the same.

______________________________

When it comes time for lunch, you’re surprised that Beomgyu had called you for a private meal next to the lake. You guess this had something to do with your outburst earlier and you nervously chew on your lip as you’re escorted to the familiar lake.

But Beomgyu doesn’t look mad as you take your seat next to him on the picnic blanket he had laid out on the soft grass.

“I heard you called Heejin a horse-faced bitch.” He says nonchalantly and you huff, already prepared to snottily protest whatever admonishment he had for you. “So what? Are you going to chastise me for not being ladylike?”

“No, you’re right. Her face is remarkably horse-like.” He says simply and you look at him in shock.

You’re met with a blank, innocent look from him that lasts a couple of seconds before the both of you burst out laughing.

“You’re not mad at me?” You ask when the laughter dies down, your sides hurting from the outburst but your wounded heart already feeling soothed at his unexpected reaction.

“No.”

“Where is this new attitude coming from?”

“My father is dead. I don’t have to listen to his bullshit anymore.” He smiles at you and beckons you closer. “And my princess can do whatever she wants.” When you’re within reach, he pulls you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your waist. “She will be gone in the morning. You can be sure of that.”

"But won't that create a problem with her family?” Your shock is back, along with worry. You fucked things up. Couldn’t you have just shut up? “They're very influential."

"They are but no one is more important than my princess."

Maybe it’s silly for you to be so surprised at this when he has done much crazier things for you, but to have this girl who tormented you for so long kicked out of the palace just because she insulted you, someone she considered so inferior to her, is really touching. Things have really turned around over here, haven't they? He’s creating a new life in the palace just to make you more comfortable.

It reminds you of how when you were kids, Beomgyu would fiercely defend you, going after anyone who dared to cross you, even his own brother, until his father forced him to stop. He never really changed, did he? He’s still your little protector.

“Thank you.” You mumble quietly, burying your face in his neck as you let your body fall against his and he holds you. “You don’t have to thank me, princess. I promised you that I would give you the life you’ve always wanted.” He pulls your head up gently and looks deeply into your eyes. “You just have to let me. Okay?”

You nuzzle your nose against his. “Okay.” You say, giving him a kiss.

“Let’s eat. I had them make you your favorite.” He gestures to the duck and your mouth waters at how delicious it looked.

Beomgyu hand feeds you like has become the ritual when you two eat alone–each bite followed of course by a peck on the lips to help it go down.

It's so easy to let him take care of you. It's easy in the way that comes with familiarity. And you convince yourself that it's okay to enjoy this now because you were doing this for a good reason. You could stop struggling and trying to prove that you’re worthy–to him, you already are worthy.

You don’t really talk much, just content to eat together quietly. The presence of each other was enough to fill out your entire universe.

It’s only when the servants clear out the food and there is nothing left but the wine, does Beomgyu break the silence. “I think this is my favorite place.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Even more than the beach?”

“Even more than the beach. Those memories have soured a bit now.” He explains and you look to escape his eyes at the reminder of what you did to him the last time you went there. Mercifully, Beomgyu doesn’t linger on it long. “No, this is my favorite because it was here that I realized I love you.”

You cock your head to the side in rapt attention, urging him to continue.

“Remember? It was the first time we got drunk, properly drunk. I had snuck off a bottle of wine from the palace cellars, just like the one we're drinking now." He swirls the liquid in his cup a bit and you feel the blood-red liquid color your faint memories and give them more vibrance. "We came here after the whole palace had gone to sleep, and we took turns chugging it. We couldn’t really stand the taste much but we were young and I guess we had egged each other on and competed on who could drink more. Needless to say, we got very drunk, very quickly."

You chuckle as you start to remember that night more and more as he recalls it. It was your first real taste of alcohol. Yes, you’ve had a couple cups of wine here and there during feasts, but that night you drank that whole bottle by yourselves. It tasted terrible but after a certain point you couldn’t even taste it at all, only the pleasant buzz of the alcohol and Beomgyu’s closeness swirling in your mouth.

“Before that night, you were already my closest friend and secret desire, but there was always this distance between us. You were always careful not to get too close because of our backgrounds.”

Yes, you remember that time. You were still unsure about how deeply and sincerely the prince felt for you. You were prepared for him to get sick of you at any moment and discard you for better-bred companions.

“But that night, the liquor burned down our throats and lit its way through our veins, melting away all our reservations until it was only me and you, the lake and the stars. That night was the first time I held you in my arms. It was the first time I realized I loved you… I was in love with you.” He recalls in wonder and looks at you like he’s just having that same realization once more. “I worried that you could hear the erratic beating of my heart as you lay your head down on my chest and dozed off, that you would find out my secret and pull away from me, but you stayed. The whole night you laid in my arms, the gentle breeze wafting the smell of your hair towards me. You smelled lovelier than the flowers in the garden, looked more radiant than the moon. How could I not fall for you?”

You look at him with fondness bursting out of your heart. How did you even hold back for so long? What spectacular power did you possess to not throw yourself at his feet earlier?

You set your drink down and all but lunge at him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He smiles and does the same, continuing his story in a much more hushed and tender voice than before, as if he intends for nothing else to hear it but you–not even the universe itself.

“You went back to acting reserved around me in the morning, but I knew your true self. Something formed between us that night that no one could take away from us.”

“I love you, Beomgyu.” You breathe out, not knowing what else to say to him that wouldn’t sound so lackluster in comparison. All you could do is reaffirm your unending love for him and hope he can feel it pouring out your body and into his.

“I love you too, princess.”

________________________

You used to accompany Wonyoung to her lessons and sit there while she learns and you mindlessly sketch the faces of the students in class and the various herbs and plants they used. It's not that you didn’t admire what they're doing but you just had no interest in medicine.

But lately it’s been different. You had asked Beomgyu to provide you with art classes–something you can actually actively enjoy– and he said he can arrange some lessons for you with his mother as she's quite the gifted artist herself. He doesn’t say that he chose her because he wants to have a member of the family around you at all times but you know that’s why.

You were a bit reluctant at the idea at first. You never really spent time alone with his mother before and despite her apparent welcoming of your return, you didn’t know what she really thinks about you. But Beomgyu reassured you that she loves you and that you have nothing to worry about.

You were still antsy during the first couple of lessons, but true to his words, it was a surprisingly pleasant affair. His mother is just as charming as her children and she seamlessly pulls you into a nice, aimless conversation as you pass the afternoons painting. She’s a wonderful artist and she has a lot of tips and tricks to teach you that she learned from the most esteemed artists in the world.

Today was no different. Everything was going marvelously well and you were enjoying yourself quite a lot even as you struggled to apply a technique she just taught you, when she said something that stopped you in your tracks.

"I've always liked you, you know?” She speaks up, seemingly harmless at first, but then she continues, “I was the one who convinced my husband to keep you. He could never see what Beomgyu saw in you but I did. You made our boy happy.”

The way she talks about you is just like her son does–as if you’re something to be kept, and you realize she must be why Beomgyu turned out this way. She must be the reason why Beomgyu feels entitled to you.

You know you shouldn’t antagonize the literal queen but you can’t help yourself. Her words triggered a long-held insecurity in you. “You talk about me as if I’m a pet for Beomgyu to keep him entertained.”

“You could see it this way.” She shrugs, “The way I see it is that every mother wants to make sure their son is happy, and you make him happy so of course I would want to keep you around.”

You grit your teeth. If it wasn’t for her, none of this would’ve happened to you. Beomgyu would never have been able to control your life the way he did and you might’ve gotten an actual say in anything that happened to you. Maybe if you hadn’t grown up at the palace, surrounded by people who always looked down on you for having less means than them, you wouldn’t have turned out so insecure. Maybe if other men were allowed to express their interest in you, you wouldn’t have sold yourself to Beomgyu. Maybe you could’ve found a nice man with a modest background similar to your own and been content with a life with him because you never would’ve felt the need to compete with people you could never hope to reach the level of.

Or maybe your father would’ve sold you to someone else less generous and more cruel.

Whatever the case is, this is your life now and she's the reason why you're here. She is the one who allowed Beomgyu to own you, and for that you want to simultaneously hug her and stab her in the heart.

“But you’re not just that, are you?” She leans in closer to you, oblivious to the dark cloud swirling around you. “You’re hungry, greedy, cunning…”

You open your mouth to defend yourself from the apparent accusations but she cuts you off. “I like it. Truth be told, I'm a lot like you. I've always had ambitions of ruling but my husband never let me. And I just wasn’t brave enough to do anything about it until I saw what you did. The way you tamed that savage man and had him wrapped around your finger… It was inspirational.”

“I didn’t tame Taehyun.” You shake your head vehemently, uncomfortable with the way she’s talking about him like he’s a beast. It seems like, to her, you’re nothing more than animals–you a pet to be kept and trained, and Taehyun a feral dog to be tamed or put down. “He acted on his own will.”

“Then how come he only changed after you stepped into his life.” She challenges.

“I just helped him–”

But she doesn’t care to listen, and her next words completely shift your focus anyway. “You’re much more worthy of being my son’s wife than that treacherous foreigner. You know she planned to have him killed?”

The brush drops from your hand as you gape at her. “What?”

“She used you abandoning him to slither her way into his life and then his bed. She pretended to be his confidant and the stupid idiot let her.” The queen rolls her eyes and you feel vindicated at her reaction. She too thinks Beomgyu shouldn’t have done that.

“Then she figured out that he was behind my husband and son’s deaths when Beomgyu told her he's planning to get a divorce and set her free. She knew he did it to get you back and she pretended to be happy with the new arrangement and the prospect of going back to her home, but secretly she was plotting something of her own. She didn't want to go back to her kingdom as a divorced princess. It would bring shame to her and her family, especially when the rumors about you inevitably spread and people realize he chose you over her. No, she wanted the power she was promised so she continued seducing my son, trying to get him to impregnate her so she’d secure her position as the queen and he wouldn’t be able to dissolve the marriage. And, the idiot that he was, he fell into it because he was jealous you were sleeping with another man." You blush when she says that even though you had no reason to. The man you were sleeping with was your husband. You had every right to do so, but you’re also aware that, here you were, mad at Beomgyu for doing the same.

"Still, he was careful about not giving her a child so that he would be able to dissolve the marriage, which of course put a wrench in her plans, but not for long. One night she got him black out drunk using some kind of hypnotic substance and used him while he was unaware, making him cum inside her. She’d gotten herself a baby without him even knowing.”

You feel nauseous listening to the queen informing you of what happened. She took him against his will–took something from him that he wasn’t willing to give. It reminds you of what happened to you. How ironic is that? Did he feel the same way you did after? Was he as broken and violated?

You want to feel sympathy for him and you do but mostly you just feel rage. Beomgyu took your virginity from you against your will because you belonged to him. It’s only fair that he belongs to you too and she was going to take what’s yours.

“She was going to wait until the child was born before exposing the whole family for what happened and therefore getting us executed and securing herself the throne as the mother of his heir, but luckily, she ended up miscarrying. That’s why she’s been confined to her chambers all this time. She really is sick but she’s also under arrest for her treason.”

You don’t say anything even long after she concludes her story, the weight of the realization paralyzing your tongue. Ryujin would've taken Beomgyu from you. He would've died while you were away from him. You would’ve never gotten to see him again. He would’ve been gone from this earth and you wouldn’t have even known until later.

“Oh, darling. Look how pale you’ve gotten.” You feel your hand being enveloped by her own and you look up to see her regarding you with a pitying look. “You really love him, don’t you?”

You try to speak but there is no saliva in your mouth and your voice comes out faint and hoarse and unrecognizable so you just shut it again and nod.

“This is why I like you. So what if you aren’t of a noble enough birth? You love him and would never hurt him and that’s what matters.”

_________________________

That night at dinner, you were so preoccupied with the information you had learned from the queen that Beomgyu had to nudge you several times to get you to eat. Throughout dinner, he was throwing concerned glances at you but you couldn’t explain your strange mood to him. You both had to wait until you were alone in your bedroom before you could talk, and when you are, you waste no time confronting him about Ryujin.

You tell him exactly what his mother had told you and ask him why he didn’t tell you about it. A sheepish look overtakes his face as he explains to you.

“I felt pathetic.” He starts, head slumped and shoulder sagging. “I barely slept with her when you were here and when you left I stopped sleeping with her entirely. But then you got married and I was inconsolable. I was angry and hurt and she took advantage of it. She incited me to do something to get back at you and at the time that was the only thing I could do–that was before I killed my father. Then after I killed him, I still slept with her because I knew that I was getting you back and I wanted to be ready for you. So many of our experiences before had been about me and I worried you wouldn’t want to be intimate with me because you didn’t enjoy our time together so I wanted to make sure that I’d be good for you. But then she did what she did and I felt like such a dumb asshole. I was so stupid and heartbroken over you that I almost got myself killed. How pathetic is that? I didn’t want you to know the truth because I was embarrassed about what I did. I am an idiot, aren’t I?”

He looks at you with the eyes of a kicked puppy, seeking reassurance that you’re not mad at him but you are. You know you have no right to be but you are. “You are an idiot.” You tell him, making him deflate even more. “What are you going to do with her?”

“I have a plan for her. Don’t worry about it, princess.” He wraps his arms around you and attempts to kiss you but you hold him at bay. "How can I not worry? She wanted to take you away from me. You were going to let her. You were going to give her your heir and then she was going to kill you."

"I wasn't.” He shakes his head vehemently. “She drugged me. I didn’t want it.”

Again, you want to feel sorry for him. You’ve been through the same thing with him, being taken against your will, but that’s exactly why you don’t have any sympathy. He did it to himself both times. He took you against your will and then he put himself in the situation where he had the same thing happen to him. Why should you feel sorry for him? No, you’re just angry that he ruined your potential new life and forced you to come back when he was sleeping with Ryujin all this time. You’re also angry that he almost got himself killed because of his stupidity.

“But you let her get close to you. You gave her the chance to do this.” You hiss at him and he flinches but keeps his hold on you tight. “I’m sorry. I will never let anyone separate us again, not even the gods themselves." He promises earnestly, trying to kiss you again but you pull away entirely, yanking his hands that try to clutch onto you off.

“Baby, please–”

“Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you.” You command and he furrows his eyebrows at the strange request. “Why?”

“Just do it.” You snap at him. “I got a surprise for you.”

He’s visibly uneasy about following through with your demand, and you half-expect him not to do it. After all, you’ve betrayed him a couple of times before. How can he be sure that you’re not up to anything funny now?

Eventually though, he gives in. You guess he doesn’t want to make you more mad at him right now. Sometimes he really is putty in your hands.

You go to the closet and pick out the outfit that you had stashed at the back. You quickly discard your clothes and put it on, struggling a little with the flimsy but intricate material. Once it’s on, you check yourself in the mirror one last time to make sure everything is where it should be before walking back up to the restless Beomgyu.

“Open your eyes.”

“Alright, what is… the big surprise…” His voice trails off as he opens his eyes, his breath catching in his throat at the scandalous little thing you’re wearing. Automatically, his hands raise to play with the lacy and silky material as if hypnotized, and his eyes darken. “Where did you get this?”

“Do you like it?” You bite your lip and twirl around for him to show off. The outfit you’re wearing isn’t common among the people. It’s too risque, too lewd, only worn by those who provide sexual favors to men.

“You’re filthy.” He sucks in a sharp breath, grabbing you by the waist to pull you flush against him, and you shudder at the lust in his eyes.

“Did she dress like this for you?” You can’t help but take the jab, your jealousy still twisting at your insides.

“You know she didn’t, you brat." He grits out at your clear provocation but you have no interest in backing down. "Of course she didn't. Because she's the queen and I'm the whore. She doesn’t need to wear this to get you to fuck her."

"Don't speak like that. You know how much you mean to me. You know how much I want to fuck you." As if to emphasize his words, his hands go down to grab your ass and press you against his hardening cock. “She’ll never compare to you.”

You love this. You love seeing the effect you have on him and you seek to drive him more crazy. If he’s going to mess with you then you’re going to mess with him too.

“Tell me, when you were letting her seduce you, was she able to make you so hard that you were leaking through your pants like I could?” You challenge, cupping his bulge pointedly, making him hiss in pleasure. Unfortunately, he has gained more control over himself in your absence and he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back. “If you keep running your mouth like that princess, you’re just asking for it.”

“Asking for what?” You continue to challenge him, hoping you’d strike gold somehow. “You to make it up to me that you let her fuck you and get pregnant by you?”

“That’s it.”

He pulls you to the bed with him, and for a moment you feel triumphant, thinking that you’d finally gotten him to snap out of his control. But unfortunately for you, you hit the wrong nerve, and instead of pushing you on the bed and fucking you, he sits down and drapes your body over his knees. “What are–” Your protest is cut off when he smacks your ass, making you yelp.

“So fucking entitled, getting so mad at me for fucking my wife when you used to beg that bastard to fuck you every night. And now, here you are, dressing up like a little slut to try to provoke me so I’d fuck you.” He smacks your ass again.

Like a little slut.

The word gives you pause. It’s what you’ve always dreaded being, and yet now that you’ve accepted your role in his life, in this moment… it thrills you somehow. Yes, you’re his slut. But better being the slut that has his heart than the wife who is locked up. He’d do anything for you. He’s crazy for you.

“And to think I was begging you for this before you left. I guess I should thank that poor bastard for setting my princess straight.”

At the mention of Taehyun, you get angry. He has no right to talk badly about him. Taehyun only wanted the best for you. He may have gone about it the wrong way but he allowed you to be something you could never be under Beomgyu.

That was his mistake.

“Fuck you, Beomgyu.” You snarl at him and he smacks you two times in succession. “No, baby. You’re not getting fucked. You’re not getting your way.”

He keeps smacking your ass despite your snarls and curses–not soft, little slaps but full on open-handed strikes that sting and burn– and your voice gradually loses its ferocity and turns into pathetic mewls with every slap.

“What is it, princess? Can’t mouth off anymore?” Beomgyu only lets up then, kneading your hot and undoubtedly red cheeks.

“I hate you.” You mumble against the sheets and Beomgyu spanks your ass again, making you cry as you clutch the sheets under you. “Puppy, stop!”

“Puppy? Now I’m puppy? Where did all your bite go, princess?” He coaxes, going back to kneading your ass, but you stay quiet, biting your lips and trembling as you try not to cry. But Beomgyu is a crafty motherfucker, and he tears a pitiful moan out of you by prodding his fingers at your wet pussy.

“Would you look at that? Princess likes to be put in her place?” Beomgyu sucks in a harsh breath and his fingers start rubbing your pussy from behind. You whine, shaking your head and fighting to keep yourself from arching into his soft touch that was a stark difference from the harshness of before. But Beomgyu doesn’t pay attention to your weak denial. “If I knew that’s all I needed to do to get my brat in line, your ass would’ve been red every day until you learned to behave.”

“Beomgyu…” You protest the humiliating proposal. The idea of him taking over his knees and spanking you every time you acted out is both mortifying and deeply arousing. But you can’t let him know that last part. He’s already not taking you seriously. He’s being an entitled asshole again. He’s–

“Beomgyu!” You cry out when he pushes two fingers into you suddenly, but your pussy easily accommodates them, and you finally let go and arch into his touch, seeking more pleasure, but to your dismay, he keeps them still and you whine. “More. Give me more.”

Another hit lands on your ass at the demand. “Ask nicely, brat.”

You should feel mortified, draped over his knees with your red and sore ass arched in the air like this, but you’re beyond caring right now, not when you can feel your wetness dripping down your thighs and his hard length poking at your tummy.

"Please, baby." You turn your head back to look at him prettily and shake your ass a bit.

You fight to keep the smirk off your face when you feel his cock jump and his fingers immediately start moving inside you.

"Good girl." He grunts, working his fingers in and out of your wet pussy as his other hand palms your asscheeks and spreads them apart so he can watch his fingers disappear inside you.

You know he must be having the time of his life seeing you positioned so lewdly for him. The horny pervert must've only imagined this in his dreams. You can feel just how hard his cock is right now and you can hear his little intakes of breath and feel the way the fingers of his free hand are digging into the flesh of your ass… he must be going crazy right now and you can’t believe how he's still holding back.

Whatever. If he doesn't want you to pleasure him then that's fine… Well, it isn't but still. You just hope he lets you cum this time. You can't handle another denied orgasm or you'll melt into a puddle of wet heat.

"Puppy, your fingers feel so good inside my pussy. I’m so wet for you." You start your obscene appeal. "Wanna cream around your pretty fingers, baby. You’ll make me cum, won’t you?"

"Now that your orgasm is on the line, you want to play nice?" He asks haughtily, seeing right through you.

"Yes, please… my king." You try again and he chuckles.

"Baby likes calling me that, huh? You like knowing you’re getting fucked by the king?" He stills his fingers and opts instead to curl them inside you, messing with your sensitive spot and making you see stars at the corner of your vision. "You never begged this much for me when I was a prince. I guess just being a prince isn't good enough for my spoiled baby."

He might be teasing you but as they say there is always a truth to every joke and you know Beomgyu is still bitter about you rejecting his proposal to step down before. Maybe he even thinks that you’re only acting like this now because he’s the king, which isn’t true at all.

Yes, it’s fucking vindictive to have the actual king want you so bad after years of others treating you like you’re not worth the dirt under their shoes, but it's not fair for Beomgyu to insinuate that you’re only acting this way because of his status. You never incited him to become the king. You never asked him to kill his father and brother. He did that out of his own accord.

"How can you say that when a lord was enough for me?" You shoot back breathlessly, knowing it will anger him but you just couldn’t hold it in. You needed to defend yourself.

Beomgyu curses lowly, smacking your ass again and again, his large, slender fingers no doubt leaving overlapping angry marks on your sensitive skin. This time, he doesn’t let up for even a second, not giving you a break until you burst out into sobs and finally surrender. “Beomgyu, fuck… fuck, stop, stop. I’m sorry. I'm sorry, puppy, please. It hurts.”

He gives you a couple more smacks for good measure before he pulls you up to sit you on his lap. “Shhh, stop crying.” He half admonishes-half consoles you as he wipes your tears. “You know you deserved it, riling me up like that. You're such a brat sometimes. You drive me crazy.” He coos ever so softly and you whimper pathetically, letting him coddle you after his harsh treatment just seconds ago. “I know you're jealous and upset about what happened but that doesn't give you the right to behave this way. Isn’t that right, princess?"

“No, you’re just mean.” You huff and cross your arms, but in doing so, you draw his eyes to your breasts that are almost spilling out of your top and he immediately gets distracted from the topic at hand.

He pulls on your arms, uncrossing them and bringing you closer until your noses are almost touching. “Give me a kiss.”

You shake your head and sniffle, pouting at him and pushing at his shoulder, still finding it in you to be insolent, but luckily for you, your pouted lips look way too enticing for him to ignore the way they’ve plumped up and turned red from you biting them.

“Come on, princess. You know I only punished you because you were being bad. So be good for me and I’ll be nice.” His husky promise makes you shiver and stay still as he leans in and presses a peck to your lips. His pretty puppy eyes flit up to see your reaction, and he murmurs a ‘good girl’ when you lean in for another kiss. He indulges you, kissing you again and again, each time the kisses grow longer and firmer until he presses your chin down with his thumb to open your mouth and slide his tongue into yours. The feel of his hot tongue blazes a fire inside you already, your body getting conditioned to expect what's coming by now.

You want to cling onto him needily, to touch him, but you know he'll just put your hands down. This is his game, his revenge. You’re not allowed to reciprocate or touch him. You can only sit and simmer in your need.

You don’t know how long you spend like that–exchanging hot, open mouthed, dirty kisses that leave you squirming, but eventually your mind gets hazy and you try to control the pace of the kiss, but you immediately feel his long, slender fingers around your throat, not pressing down tightly, just a reminder of ownership over you, like a flesh collar and you quickly back down.

"Who do you belong to?" He murmurs huskily.

"You." You whimper, and he takes your lips again.

His hand slides from your neck to cup one of your breasts and you let out a shaky gasp and arch into his touch, wordlessly pleading with him to give you more.

But for a while he just swallows your shuddered breaths, feeding him as he continues to drive you insane with the muted touches over your clothes.

Until finally, finally, he pulls the neckline down. He doesn’t touch your bare breasts right away though. He brings his thumb back to your mouth and pushes it inside. He watches you intently as you suck on it and you do your best to mimic another similar, lewder action, hoping he’d break and let you suck his dick.

No luck. He takes the wet finger out eventually and uses it to rub around your nipples, making you whine again at the inordinate amount of teasing. He keeps it up until you’re just about to explode, but he can read you too well and just before you do, his thumb finally flicks over your sensitive bud.

"Beomgyu, please." You moan needily and he complies, bending his head down to take the other nipple in his mouth.

"Always loved these tits." He moans against your skin. "You always wore those dresses that made them almost spill out and I knew that if I just slipped my finger in and pushed down slightly, they'd pop right out of the bust. My cock kept urging me to do it. The thought would fester in my brain and I'd grow dumb and distracted with it. To just do it so I could play with these…” He takes that moment to jiggle your breasts obscenely and you make a noise of protest, embarrassed at his perverted confessions and actions. “You were such a tease. Made me wait so long, only to act so needy when the tables are turned on you."

He goes back to sucking on your tits, eager in his ministrations as if he is making up for all the times he wished he could do that but held back. The feeling of his tongue flicking your nipple while he plays with the other with his fingers shoots straight to your pussy and has you rubbing yourself on his thigh to quench some of the flame building there.

You were so naive when you were younger. You had no idea that your sweet little prince was thinking of you so lewdly. You were so hopelessly in love with him that you didn't even see all the things he got up to behind your back just so he could keep you to himself. You could not have predicted how you'd end up today–the both of you married to other people yet you’re seated on his lap, his cock poking at your heat while your tits are in his mouth.

But it's not enough. You need more. You need his fingers in you, his mouth on your pussy, anything other than this maddening teasing. "Puppy, please. I need more."

When he pulls back to look at you, you blush at his swollen lips and the various bruises scattered all over your tits that he now kneads in both his hands so as not to give you any moment of reprieve. "Don't be greedy, princess. Let me enjoy you like I've always dreamt of."

"But I can't take much more, puppy." You plead with him.

"You're going to have to, princess." He purrs, going back to mouthing at your chest, but you can't take it anymore. You're practically leaking on his thigh.

Desperately, you reach your hand out to palm his cock, trying to rile him up. He falters for a moment, moaning against your chest as you cup his heated member, but then he pulls away from your wet nipples and wraps his hand around your neck again.

"No. Be good."

"Please." You try again and he sighs. "You never could've survived what you put me through."

You suppose you wouldn't have.

He pushes you to lie down on the bed and looms over your body like a beast ready to devour his prey. “Look at this scandalous little thing you’re wearing.” He derides, tugging at the frilly material. “You really will do anything to get fucked, won’t you, princess?”

“Puppy–” You pout, flushing, but he spanks your sore ass and you quickly abandon your demure act.

"Don't act shy now."

You take a deep breath and confess. "Yes, Beomgyu. I want to be fucked."

“But this is only for me, right?” He asks sharply, palming your thighs possessively. “Did you dress like that for him?”

You shake your head.

“Did you act like such a slut?” The insecurity is apparent in his question. He knows you begged Taehyun to fuck you and it clearly is messing with him to imagine you being like this with another man.

But you were never like this with Taehyun. You could never let your guard down and behave so pitifully for anyone else. “No, puppy. Only you.”

He seems to accept this for now but you know it's not the last you’ll hear of this. "Spread your legs for me, princess."

You comply right away, his obedient little slut.

"Good girl." He trails his hand up your body slowly, more slowly than necessary just to rile you up so you're squirming for him before it finally reaches its destination between your legs to rub your pussy.

"Please." You prod and he cocks his head to the side innocently. "Need something inside you, princess?"

You nod and spread your legs wider for him, displaying your pussy to him as if it was his. Because it is.

"My pretty princess can’t go a day without getting her needy pussy filled up." He coos, fingers sliding embarrassingly easily along your soaked pussy but you’re beyond caring now. "Is that why you left him? Because he wasn't giving it to you?"

He didn’t give you the time to consider protesting before he slams his fingers inside you and starts pumping them in and out right away, making you scream out at the sudden blinding pleasure.

"You're so pretty. My pretty little princess, only mine. Only I can satisfy you. Only I know what you really need. You just want to be taken care of, don't know you, princess?" His praises are self-assuring and his question is rhetorical as he pumps his fingers in and out so fast they make a wet slapping sound every time his hand hits your pussy. "I love you so much, my princess. Do you love me too?"

"Yes."

"Say it." He demands.

"I love you, Beomgyu.” You cry out, eager to please him so he’ll keep going. “Please, please don't stop."

But you shouldn't have said that. You alerted him to how close you are. Not that it matters. He would’ve known anyway. He knows you all too well and he stops, taking his fingers out and tearing a cry of despair out of you as you close your legs and attempt to rub your thighs together to salvage your orgasm. But Beomgyu quickly holds them down.

"Hush, baby." He soothes you, going back to giving you sweet pecks on the lips. "I know it hurts but you need to be punished. Don't you agree?"

He looks at you so sweetly, like he’s doing this for your own benefit, that you can’t help but nod pitifully.

He likes that, smiling radiantly at you in response. "Since you're being so good. I will reward you."

Your heart rate picks up at the promise of a reward, and it beats even faster when he grabs your thighs and spreads them wide, almost splitting you apart so his eyes can feast on your glistening pussy.

"Fuck, baby.” He curses, licking his lips. “Your body is downright sinful. You were made by the gods to be fucked."

“So fuck me.” You manage to whisper and he smirks, leaning his face down towards your pussy instead and giving it a sloppy kiss, making your walls clench and a gush of arousal leak out of you as the pleasure returns back too quickly.

But like today and all the days before, his movements are intentionally designed to tease and not deliver, to build you up slowly until you’re creeping right at the edge, your high so close you can taste it, only to take it away from you.

This is not a reward and you know it. He’s punishing you even more. It's only a reward for him. He does this to you every day to the point that you're perpetually on edge now and feel like you could just cry from it all.

Is that what you've made him feel all this time? Was he this strung out for you? How did he even manage to survive it when you feel like you could combust any second now.

“Beomgyu… please… please, baby. My king, my love, please let me cum.” You babble, the fever getting to your brain and turning it into mush until the only thing you can register is his tongue inside you and the sticky sounds bouncing around the room.

But right before you snap, he pulls his face away and uses his harsh grip on your thighs to keep the violent shudders of another ruined orgasm under control.

You’re so out of it, mind so foggy and eyes so bleary that you don’t realize he has taken his cock out and started touching himself until he glides it between your pussy lips to lubricate it.

“Beomgyu—hah—p-please, fuck me.” You plead weakly, unable to feel your limbs anymore but the sparks of pleasure the slide of his dick illicit still shooting to your fingertips and toes. “You know I'm not pregnant. I never even let him cum inside me."

That last part grabs his attention and he stops. You whine, too dumb to realize the significance of what you said, but Beomgyu hangs onto it.

"And he just agreed to that? What a fucking cuckold." Beomgyu snorts, but you can tell even through your hazy vision how happy he is with the information. As a form of reward, he sinks his fingers back inside you as he resumes pumping his cock, his chest puffed out in pride. "I guess you always knew you were going back to me, princess. So what is it then? You just like to drive me insane? Make me prove to you how crazy I am over you? How far I'm willing to go for you? Was this all a test?"

"N-no, puppy…ahhh… I swear." You slur in denial but Beomgyu doesn’t believe you.

“It’s okay, princess.” He grunts, his hands smacking against your pussy in his vigor once again. “I’ll show you how far I’ll go for you.”

That promise should’ve probably alarmed you but you didn’t have the brain function left to question it. All you could think of was how full you’d feel if he’d just push his cock inside you, and that’s exactly what you tell him.

“Show me.” You cry wantonly. “Stuff me with your big cock, my king. Fuck me. Cum inside me. Ruin me. Take what’s yours.”

You can see how much you’re getting to him and his next words prove it. “I love hearing your moans, princess. So don't make me gag you like last time."

At the reminder, you recall how he stuffed your oversized hair bow inside your mouth to stop you from seducing him last time, but you still don’t shut up, hoping this time you can convince him.

“At least let me touch you, baby. Don’t you miss my touch?”

“You barely touched me, princess, acted like you’re too good for me. At least I’m nice enough to finger you, eat you out… you made me rut against you like a dog and now you want my cock in your hand, your pretty cunt?”

He raises his fingers to your mouth, making good on his threat as he moves it in and out the same way he’s doing to your pussy. Still, you don’t take heed and, frustrated, you slur through his fingers, “And you say he didn’t satisfy me.”

No sooner had you said that than his fingers were thrust into your mouth deeply, shutting you up finally.

“You really want me to go crazy, huh?” His fingers hit the back of your throat, making you gag, but he doesn’t immediately pull them back.

He does look crazed and for a moment, you feel terror lick at your spine. Is he going to hurt you again?

You liked it, didn’t you?

But then he pulls his fingers out, a trail of spit following them before he grabs your neck. “You’re definitely not going to cum now.”

He takes his hand away from your pussy, ignoring your wretched cry, and climbing up your body until he’s straddling your chest. “You know what to do, princess.” He murmurs, stroking his cock over your face.

“Baby, please…” You whimper, knowing that this will signal the end of the night and you’ll be left unsatisfied yet again.

“Do you want another spanking? I’m not sure if your pretty ass can handle more.” He grunts, a bead of precum leaking out of his cock and landing on your lips at that, and you know he’d be more than happy to deliver on his promise.

You finally give in, opening your mouth wide open and pushing your tongue out, partly to avoid the punishment and partly to lick up that drop that dribbled onto your lips.

You’ve been doing this for a while. At first you thought you were getting close to having Beomgyu give in, but after a few nights you quickly realized that he just really likes cumming on your tongue and face. He loves seeing you look all filthy and fucked out for him. You can’t blame him. You’d do the same to him if you were in his shoes. So for now you just content yourself with watching as his hand blurs over his cock and his gaze locks onto yours, his eyes filling up with the desire he’s been holding back.

He looks so ethereal, even from this angle, even doing something so vulgar, even sweaty and red faced with his dick in your face… he looks like an angel, and you’ll be damned if you don’t give him his salvation.

You can’t speak with your tongue out like this so you just settle for a short, lustful moan, encouraging him to let go as your own saliva drips messily down your chin.

It doesn’t take long after that for his cum to join it, the first spurt landing in a thick rope in the middle of your face, but each subsequent one coming out a little weaker until a good portion of his seed is pooled on your tongue and running down your chin.

You know you must look downright obscene right now, your tongue still out with white, hot cum painted on your face, dressed in your slutty outfit and waiting for his cue to swallow down his seed. But he doesn’t give it right away. He takes a moment to memorize how you look, just like he does every night as if it’s the first and last time he’ll ever get to see you like this. You guess that’s what years of waiting and yearning will do to someone.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful, princess.” He pants, “Covered in my seed and all mine.”

You whimper, wanting to speak up but can’t, and he finally allows you to swallow. You do but that only removes what’s in your mouth, the salty taste not entirely pleasant to your refined palate but you’ll take whatever he gives you.

Beomgyu oh-so-helpfully scoops up the rest of his cum and feeds it to you bit by bit until there is no more left on your face. "You did so good for me, princess." He praises you, leaning down and taking your lips in his.

But he doesn’t let the kiss linger for long, knowing it will only heat you up more in your current state and you honestly can’t take anymore.

Getting off you, he cups your face in one of his hands. “Do you want me to call the servants in to prepare you a bath?”

You shake your head, not wanting to bother them at this late hour. Besides, you just want to go to bed to sleep your lust off.

“I just want to sleep.” You mumble weakly and he nods. “Okay, princess. Just let me wipe you off.”

He disappears for a bit and comes back with a wet rag, wiping off your face first then your neck where some of the cum had dribbled then lastly cleaning between your legs. You fuss a bit when he gets to the last part, the remaining kindles of pleasure still smoldering beneath the surface getting ignited a bit by his ministrations but he shushes you gently and encourages you to calm down.

“I know, baby. You’ll get what you want soon, I promise.”

After he’s done, he gets rid of the rag and slips into bed with you, plucking you into his arms and nuzzling his face into your neck, breathing you in deeply before saying, “You won’t have to wait for much longer, princess. I will make it all up to you soon.”

You know he’s telling the truth. It’s already been around two months since you got back… two menses that you’ve been through. You only have one more to go before your wait is over. You’ve already proven to him that you’re not pregnant. You just have to prove it to the world.

_________________________

It takes a couple more weeks for Beomgyu to do anything about Ryujin, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what he did.

Beomgyu announces to the kingdom that his wife, Ryujin, is being accused of treason after he received some very confidential information recently, and that she is to be put through a trial to ascertain the veracity of those claims.

When you first came back, you thought you’d be okay with Beomgyu’s tight watch over you–that you’d be able to handle not having contact with the world outside the castle, or even much inside it. But now you don’t think you can take it. You need to know how the kingdom is reacting to such shocking news, but Beomgyu won’t tell you much. It’s only after you had begged and begged, did he reluctantly inform you that Ryujin’s father was naturally outraged at the claims against his daughter and is demanding that she be released from her captivity immediately.

That of course worried you. If Ryujin’s father turned on Beomgyu, he could very well join up with Taehyun like your husband had suggested, and together they might have enough power to launch an attack on the crown, thereby igniting the war you’d come back to prevent.

You relay your concerns to Beomgyu but he reassures you that he has thought everything through and to not worry. But how could you not?

“Relax, baby. I’ve got everything under control. Besides, didn’t you want her to be punished for what she did? She was going to take what’s yours.”

Beomgyu knew just what to say to get to you.

And so the preparations for the trial go along as planned. You gather that Beomgyu has an airtight case against her and honestly, she deserves what’s coming for her. Still, you can’t help but feel guilty. If this trial proves her guilt, she would be executed, and you’d be the cause of it.

Yes, she’s responsible for her own actions and according to Beomgyu, he had been willing to just dissolve their marriage and let her go before she did what she did. But still, if it weren’t for you, they could’ve had an amicable marriage. The only reason it didn’t work out was because Beomgyu just couldn’t let you go.

So to ease your guilt, you needed to at least make sure that she actually did what Beomgyu claimed she did. What if Beomgyu had set her up? What if he hasn’t been telling you the whole truth?

You know you probably should just let it be and listen to him for once, but you can’t just stay still. You need to see her and confirm it for yourself.

Predictably, Beomgyu was completely against you visiting Ryujin, telling you that nothing good can come of it and that you��ll only upset yourself, but that just makes you want to see her more. Yes, he could be saying that to protect you from any negative feelings the meeting might spawn, but he could also be saying it to prevent you from knowing the truth.

So you quickly came up with a lie to tell him, saying that you want to see your rival one last time before her trial. To look her in the eyes and confront her about what she did and what she almost took from you.

He eventually relented and said he’d take you to her but you turned him down, asking for Wonyoung to accompany you instead, once again lying and saying that it’s because you can’t bear the thought of him being in her presence after what she did, that you’d feel more at ease if he wasn’t there.

He was even more reluctant to agree to that but eventually he did again, and you and Wonyoung were on your way to the royal quarters where Ryujin was being confined.

But before you both were to go in, you turned to Wonyoung with a final request. “Let me talk to her alone, Wonnie.”

“No, Beomgyu will flip out–”

“Please. I need to confront her alone. She’s the woman who stole my life, took my lover as her husband, and was going to destroy it all. I need to face her alone.” Wonyoung still seemed hesitant so you reach out and clasp her hands in yours, peering into her eyes pleadingly. “You’d want the same if you were me, wouldn’t you?”

She sighs. “Okay but if you take too long I’m busting in there to make sure she didn’t get to you.”

You laugh, giving her hand one last squeeze and mustering up enough genuine confidence to smile at her. “Don’t worry. You know what I am capable of.”

When you step into the room, you find it engulfed in darkness that only deepens when the door is closed behind you. It takes you a few seconds to find Ryujin but you see her sitting on a chair near the window, looking out into the world outside. You can only see the side of her face but a strange hint of kinship is evoked in you at her lonely, confined state. You’re both captive women, your lives having been dictated by your families and by Beomgyu, but your choices took you on wildly different routes that eventually led you to this moment.

You wonder if she noticed your presence yet, but you can’t even call out to her for ignorance on what to address her–princess? queen? lady?

Luckily, she speaks up first. “Why are you here?” She asks without even turning to you. “To gloat? To humiliate me? To act innocent?”

You shake your head at her accusations but quickly realize she can’t see you. “No. I just wanted to know if you really did it? Did you try to kill him?”

She lets out a noise that is half-laugh, half-scoff. “Of course I did. It was either me or him.”

"He would have let you go." You counter heatedly and this time her laugh is loud and haughty, echoing around the room and getting thrown back at you. "Just like he's letting Taehyun go?" She finally turns her head towards you and you see how gaunt and sickly she appears. She looks like she’s about to crumble into a pile of bones and skin.

You clamp up at her insinuation. What does she mean by that? Is Beomgyu hurting Taehyun still?

"Oh, don't act so shocked. You know what you're doing. You don't care. You’re just like him.” She spits out with all her dwindling might, contempt and hatred tinging her heavy words with black venom. “You’re both monsters but at least he's honest about it."

"That's not true." You shake your head weakly. You’re not like that. You came back to save everyone. You’re here to make sure she’s not being punished unfairly. You’re trying your best.

She snorts derisively. "You're the cause of my death. At least have the decency to not lie to my face."

“I–”

“Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. You’re going to have him all to yourself soon. You better hope the gods have some mercy on your soul then.”

_____________________

You rush back to Beomgyu, needing to seek assurance from him that you’re not a monster, that he won’t hurt Taehyun. But as soon as you get back to your shared room, you stop in your tracks, finding Beomgyu next to the fireplace with a large, heavy chest beside him filled with papers that he would skim over before throwing into the fire.

Feeling your hair raise at the strange action, you approach carefully. “What are you doing, baby? What are those?”

Beomgyu throws another paper into the flames before he turns to you. “They’re all the letters I didn't send you. Can’t let these fall into the wrong hands.” He explains, then asks, “You got rid of the ones you got, right?"

You nod dazedly, reaching forward to grab one from the open chest, reading it.

I dreamt of the knock on your bedroom door again last night. Every fucking night I hear that knock, every night I leap from your bed hoping it’s you, returned to me. You aren’t coming back, are you? Why hasn’t this foolish hope died? Why? Why did you leave me? I can’t move on, you are my life, the blood in my veins and the air in my lungs. You mean the world to me, yet I mean so little to you. You abandoned me, and I would forgive that and the world if only you’d come home.

Am I as pathetic as my father said? Am I nothing but a joke to you? A passing fancy? A means to an end? Did you use me, as you now use that murderer? Why do I dwell on you when you clearly don’t care? I poured my heart into you, and you turned your back on me. Why do I still love you? Why do I want nothing more than to have you again? If I disappear, will you look for me? Shed a tear for me? As I will do even if you already hate me, even if I have to end this world I will come looking for you

You think of Beomgyu’s state of mind when he was writing this–desolate, heartbroken, alone, not knowing if you’ll ever come back, wondering if you had really just used him. You know you’re with him now and most of these worries have been assuaged but the mere idea of him ever having those thoughts at some point in time just kills you. How could you have done this to him? Betrayed him so badly that he started actually doubting your love for him, the one thing no one can ever call into question?

Every day I am told that you are gone and it is time to get over you. And every damned night I hear that soft knock on your door. Every time I think my tears have dried, I hear your laugh whisper through my mind, see the ghost of your face, and discover that there are still tears to be shed.

Why haven’t you written back? Why are you fucking ignoring me? I know you get my letters. I want to go to that fucking castle, to shake you, to beat you, to get some reaction from you other than cold indifference. I want to hate you for making me feel so insignificant. But what I want most of all is for you to come home to me. I truly am pathetic. And I can accept that, if only I have you. I can accept your anger. I can accept your tears. What I cannot accept is this apathy towards me. This silence. Just how long are you going to torture me love, keep me yearning for you? Will you at least tell me that you're doing fine? Does it please you to know I’m suffering?

Even when he doubted your very loyalty and devotion, he still wanted you back. He still wanted to forgive you. You know that Beomgyu could take almost anything from you but silence, and during that one year you were gone, he had nothing but that deafening, defeating silence. It must’ve suffocated him, strangled him.

Did you only pretend to care for me? How could you walk out of my life so completely otherwise? No. I know you love me, as I love you. We were fated, our love scripted by the divine, who are often fickle and tricky, but they gave you to me and I to you. I know you love me. So then why do I sit now in your empty room, sleep in your empty bed, wishing to see you one more time?

That night I lost you, I lost myself too. I lost everything.

Do not blame me for what you made me.”

Still, he knew deep down that your love for him was true, just as you knew his was. That must be what had kept him going.

He’s right. You were fated to be together, that’s the only explanation that makes sense. A love this intense and consuming can be nothing less than divine. So why do the god’s delight in torturing you so? It’s like they created you to love and yearn for each other so badly, only so they can put obstacles in your pass and laugh as you struggle to overcome them.

The last sentence of Beomgyu’s letter strikes you with uneasiness however. “What you’ve made me?” What does that mean?

You throw the letter in the fire once you’re done with it–as if the flames could burn that last eerie sentence from your brain–and grab a new one.

“I’m sorry, princess, I’m so so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you that way. I just wanted to keep you. You were slipping away from me. Do you know how that made me feel? I went mad with the fear of losing you, and I did the unthinkable. I had waited for so long to not scare you away. I always took such good care of you, didn’t I? I did my best to protect you from the world that sought to use and ruin you, but in my moment of pain and anger, I became your monster. I betrayed your trust, my princess. Is this your punishment for me?

If so, I deserve it. I just wish you’d be more merciful than me. Does this punishment have an end? Or will you torment me like this for the rest of my short life? For surely, I can’t go on without you for long. My soul yearns for you more than it yearns for my own body. I may have to release it back home to you. It’s yours after all. I'm sorry. I'm a monster. I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

This letter confirms the worst fears you’ve held when you were back at Taehyun’s castle. Beomgyu was on the verge of hurting himself because of you. You were lying in another man’s arms while he was sleeping in your room and dreaming of going back to you in any way, even if it meant killing himself.

Your heart beats fitfully against your chest, the thought–even past and over–still horrifies it. How could you?--it throws itself against your ribcage in penance, bruising itself against the bones.

You quickly discard the letter into the flames, picking another one in the hopes that it would calm you down. But it only gets worse.

“You’re gonna die in that castle, you know?

You’re not suited to be in there. You may lie to him. You may lie to yourself, but you can never lie to me, princess. You’re not the strong, capable woman you fancy yourself as. You’re my delicate princess who has always dreamt of being cloaked in the finest silks and adorned in precious gems, my princess who just wants to be taken care of.”

It’s a short letter, right to the point, straight through the heart.

He’s right, isn’t he? You’ve thought too highly of yourself. You duped yourself into thinking you were up to the challenge when you weren’t. You imagined that living as a lord’s wife would come with riches and easy power–akin to what you saw Wonyoung have. But even Wonyoung didn’t have much individual power after all, and you found out that you had to fight tooth and nail to make your own. But that’s not what you wanted. You didn’t want bloody dresses and dirty nails. You want a life of comfort and leisure.

You’re not the woman you thought you were. You’re not the woman Taehyun thought you were. Only Beomgyu knew you for who you truly are.

You throw the letter into the fire and grab another one.

I can’t believe you did this to me. No matter how much we hurt each other, I stayed and you left. I would’ve torn myself apart for you. I have killed for you. And yet you just left me like this?

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

How could you leave me? Am I that disposable to you? Once I couldn’t give you what you wanted, once someone you thought was better came along, you abandoned me? You used me! So why do you act like you’re better than me?

You know what, I don’t care anymore. Go be a whore and let him fuck you, let everyone in that damn castle fuck you. Just don’t come crying to me when you realize they only want you for your body. That’s all you will ever be good for. My father was right all along. You’re nothing but a whore, you’ll spread your legs to any man who’ll give it. God knows who else is having their turn with you other than that bastard. I should've fucked you a long time ago and showed you your place.

Fuck you, you fucking bitch. I hate you.

Maybe if I say it enough I will believe it. Maybe if I say it enough my heart will stop hemorrhaging from the wound that is my love for you.”

You can’t take anymore. You can’t read anymore.

You break out into sobs, not even having the strength to throw the letter you’re holding into the fire.

Quickly, Beomgyu abandons his own letters and stands up to take a look at what you’re reading. Once his eyes skim over the words, he quickly takes you into his arms, ripping the letter from your hand and throwing it into the fire with force.

“No. No, princess. I was hurt and angry when I wrote that. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I love you. You know I didn’t mean it.” He effuses, his words coming out in quick succession, hoping one of them would succeed in calming you down.

“I know you love me. I know that only you could love me.” You acknowledge at length, wailing.

He’s right about everything. He’s always been right. That’s exactly why you’re so wretched. You don’t deserve anyone else’s love. You don’t deserve better. Look at what you did to Taehyun and Kai and Jaeyun. Look at what's happening to Ryujin. Anyone who crosses your path gets hurt. Only Beomgyu could deal with someone like you. Only he could love you.

Suddenly, hot pain stabs at your stomach and you cry out, frightening him. He immediately circles around so he’s face to face with you, concern jumping off his face at your sudden exclamation. ”What is it?

You huff as you feel your insides squeeze painfully, and wrap your arms around your belly, hunching over a bit in pain, which makes Beomgyu’s concern reach an all-time high. “Princess, what the fuck is happening? Did she hurt you?”

Rage drips from his words but you shake your head, feeling something drip down your leg, you tell him breathlessly. “I’m menstruating.”

Suddenly, his expression changes, a large grin covering his face.

You’re on your period. It’s the third month. You’ve proven you’re not pregnant.

He quickly puts you down in the big seat next to the fireplace, “Wait here.”

He dumps the rest of the letter into the open fire without even giving them a glance, and you watch them go up in flame with relief, as if the act would erase them from existence entirely, erase them from even your brain.

When he’s done, he calls onto some of the maids to bring your menstruation rag so you wouldn’t bleed all over yourself. Once it’s on, he puts a little vial to your lips and encourages you to drink what’s in it.

“Wonyoung made this. It’s supposed to take some of the pain away.” He tells you as you swallow down the milky substance. “It will take a while to take effect but she says it’s really helpful.”

You can’t really listen to him well through the ringing in your ears. This is a monumental moment for the both of you. You’re together. His wife is on trial for treason. You’ve proven you’re not carrying Taehyun’s child… He would be able to claim you soon enough.

Suddenly, you feel like the large room is much too stuffy, and when he tries leading you towards the bed to lie down, you shake your head. “Can we stay out on the balcony for a while? I want some fresh air.”

He hesitates for a second, worried that you'd catch a cold. But at your insistence, he grabs a big blanket and ushers you out. “Sure, princess.”

He sits you on his lap on the large chair outside, making sure to wrap the both of you in a cocoon with the blanket, your body heat mingling together and getting trapped under the heavy blanket, leaving you toasty warm even in the chilly night air. Adding to that the fact that the medicine is slowly kicking in, allows your body to start relaxing.

“You won’t have to go through this for a while if you just say the word.” Beomgyu tells you, hinting once again at his desire to impregnate you.

“Beomgyu, I can’t have a bastard child.” You remind him.

“I know, just… dream with me. For a moment, let’s just imagine what it would be like for us to have a family. What would our children be like? Don’t you think about those things?” He looks at you with his big, puppy eyes, the life seeming to return to them in bursts of light that dance at the thought of your children, and you can’t begrudge him a little fantasy.

“Of course I do.” You say, looking at the sky as you gather your thoughts, but you can still see Beomgyu’s excited face from the corner of your eyes. “You do? What do you imagine them to be like?”

You sigh, giving in to Beomgyu’s infectious and endearing enthusiasm. “Well, we would have a son first then a little girl so she’d always have her big brother there to protect her, just like you’re protecting Wonyoung.”

He blushes and nuzzles his face into your shoulder. “What would they be like?”

“He’d be strong but kind. He would be smart too. He’d read all the books in the library and demand more.” You say confidently, “And she’d be beautiful but strong. She’d know how to handle herself but she’d still have her big brother to fall back onto when she needs him.”

“Would she practice archery?” He giggles, and you grin. “Yes. They both would. They would be so competitive about it too, sometimes getting so heated they jokingly threaten to shoot each other.”

“Oh no.” Beomgyu feigns concern. “Which one of us would have to step in and stop them from hurting each other?”

“You would. You would be the authoritative parent so that the kids would like me more.” You shrug and he protests. “Hey! I want them to like me too!”

“Tough luck.” You stick your tongue out, but then soften when he pouts. “They would adore you, baby. Just like I do. They’d look up to you so much. You won’t be like those fathers whose kids are scared and resentful of. They’d respect you and trust you because they’d know that no matter what, you’d always be there for them.”

He smiles dreamily. “Tell me more.”

You spend the rest of the night talking about your imaginary kids–what they’d look like, what their hobbies and interests would be, which one of you would be their favorite. You learn that Beomgyu wants a big family, so big in fact that you had to negotiate on just having four or five kids.

You have so much fun imagining your big family, and it all seems so real under the magic of the starlight. But when the sun starts coming up, touching the world with its sobering light, your awakening is particularly unkind.

Beomgyu notices your smile fall. “What is it, baby?”

“I just… want it to be real so bad.” You confess quietly as if you’re hiding from the sun.

“Do you?” He asks seriously.

“Of course.”

“I want it too. I can make it happen.” He proclaims and you sigh. Not this again. "I told you I don't want a bastard."

“Not a bastard.”

“How? We’re both married.” Well, Ryujin doesn’t seem to be long for this life. But there is still Taehyun. Beomgyu wouldn’t hurt him, would he?

“Are you going to kill Taehyun?” You carefully ask the question you’ve been afraid to ask ever since your talk with Ryujin.

“I won’t have to if he backs down.” He tells you and you turn around to face him.

“If he backs down? What is going on, Beomgyu? Are you going to war with Taehyun?”

"He's going to war with me."

“What?” You breathe unevenly, “How?”

“He’s teaming up with Ryujin’s father.”

“Oh my god…” The world swims around you. This can’t be happening. “I thought you said there won’t be a war if I came back!”

“And I’m doing my best to prevent it.” He tells you, vexingly calm.

“How? How are you preventing it?” You need to know what is going on. You can’t handle this ignorance much longer while the world is apparently going to shit around you.

“I’ll tell you everything when the time comes.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?” You shout, frustrated. What is with this crypticness?

“Because I can’t trust you yet.” He says quietly, devastatingly.

“Oh.”

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised by that but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You’ve really done some lasting damage to your relationship, huh? You both did. You used to only trust each other in this world and now you’re keeping things from each other, lying to each other, betraying each other. What have you come to? And will you ever be able to overcome it?

You hear Beomgyu sigh and wrap his arms tighter around you. “I know this hurts you, princess. It hurts me too but I need you to trust that I’m doing this for you, for us. Can you do that?”

How ironic is it for him to ask for your trust when he just told you that he doesn’t trust you?

"Okay." You tell him, because what else could you say now? You’re not sure either of you believes it though.

____________________________________

A/N: I worked so hard to get you this chapter out this week and before my shift (it's 1 am now and i have a 48h shift tomorrow lmao) so i'd love to hear what you guys think of the chapter

it's not my proudest work as i don't have enough time to write anymore but i hope you like it anyway.

#txt smut #tomorrow by together smut #tomorrow x together smut #yandere!beomgyu #yandere smut #sub!reader #dom!idol

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liveontelevision · 12 days

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A lil' somethin' (nothin' fancy)

Here's just a little random Lucifer blurb I wrote today, I liked the words is all, so enjoy maybe?

No romance, no fluff, no reader 😬 BUT I am working on something cute right now so stay tuned!

---

They say Lucifer lost his will to dream.

It was published in a book for goodness sake. Everyone in Hell knew what a failure he was. That being said, he did still have some creative outlets. He was a showman at heart, litering the seven rings with amusement parks, circus tents and stages; specifically made for Lillith's concerts, but it was used for other things as time went on.

In reality, he could create anything. Any item you could think of, he could conjure up with just the snap of his fingers. And he used that power often. A thriving realm wasn't just made of sinner's. It needed a working class. Now, when it came to Lucifer, he had all the same abilities as his heaven bound brothers. And they could create life. It was something Lucifer loved to do when he was above the clouds. Or used to, at least.

Don't get me wrong, his powers are still as strong as they were when he was an angel, but when he tried to create life like he used to, it.. it was just different. Like his power had some kind of distortion that he had to work around. Cute little cherubs turned into red skinned creatures with horns and goat legs, cats came out with one eye, and lambs came out with sharp teeth and wings.

He didn't mind them, and he would never take away a life just because of its appearance. So, he found work for them, no problem. They'll keep the realm running smoothly. And as he created more imps and other hellborn creatures, he became better at it. After some practice and honing of his skills he created, what he would call, his best work. A handful of creatures he deemed as rulers for each ring of hell. The Sins. He took pride in each being, creating them to embody the true notions that came with the knowledge of truth. He put his deepest desires into a little spider clown he called Mammon. All of his wanting and indulgence into a lovely little lava pup, and finally, his truest love and devotions into a spunky little rooster. (And others to come)

But it all turned on him. They became his proudest achievements in decades, but people saw them all as ruthless leaders. And in some cases, that's simply what they became. His desires, indulgence and devotion were viewed as greed, gluttony and lust. Word of these beings would travel to Heaven, only solidifying his tainted image to his brothers. But.. it was okay. He had a family now. The sins all grew to be incredibly close to Lucifer and Lillith, even giving their sweetest child a taste of what a communicative family would look like. Lucifer wanted nothing more than to create a loving environment for his daughter once she was born. And he took pride in the fact that he did.

---

In my head, I like to think that Lucifer created the sins this way. I see fan art of it all the time, and it's just so?? Cute??? Like Beezlebub feeding of Lucifer's depression vibes and comforting him, and the sins babysitting Charlie in general? aH I eat that shit up. I'm def thinking of including them in stories in the future 🙌

Ok that's all, thanks for reading my little thing :)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #lucifer hazbin #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin art #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #helluva boss #helluva boss theory #helluva fanfiction #helluva boss fanfic

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amorest-viesse · 5 months

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[You And I In This World Adrift] - Rustica SSR Card Story Translation

Ft. Akira

A Twinkling Night Sky Backdrop - Chapter 1

[Rustica’s Room]

Akira: Wow, everything smells amazing…!

Lined up before me was Rustica’s tea collection.

As I picked them up one-by-one, I inhaled each of their scents.

Rustica: Should there be a blend that lights up your heart and heals your soul, please feel free to select it.

Akira: Thank you so much, Rustica. I’m really glad you invited me for tea today.

Akira: I’ve been writing in the Sage’s Book all morning, so I was planning on taking a break soon anyways.

Rustica: I’m glad to be of service. Please indulge in all the warm tea and pastries you’d like.

Rustica: What kind of things were you noting down today?

Akira: Oh, just various stuff that's happened lately like our missions, but also more mundane things like what people like or dislike…

Akira: I wanted to capture as much detail as I could and lost track of time.

Rustica: How remarkable. With that amount of attention, the portraits of us in your book must be akin to the real thing.

Akira: Haha, I’d be happy if that were the case. The notes that the previous sage left me were a lot of help after all.

Akira: Once I return to my world, I want the next sage to understand everyone too—

“The next sage”—As soon as the words left my mouth, a chilly wind blew through my heart.

Akira: Ah, maybe we should get started on that tea.

Overcome with an unexpected sadness, I smiled away my pain and diverted the topic by picking up a blend.

Rustica: But of course. <<Amorest Viesse>>

With a soft glow, a teacup wreathed in steam appeared before me. Painted on its side were the little faces of my favorite animal.

Akira: Oh, cats! How cute…!

Rustica: Haha, I’m glad it’s to your fancy. This is precisely the reaction I was hoping to see.

Rustica: I had a feeling your face would light up once you saw this.

Akira: Rustica… Thank you so much.

Akira: Oh! Even the handle is shaped like a cat’s tail. This is so detailed…

Akira: This is just what I needed to lift my spirits. Maybe I should get one for myself.

Rustica: Oh? In that case, I know just where to look.

Rustica: In a few days, there will be an exhibition fair in the City of Affluence.

Akira: An exhibition fair? What’s that?

Rustica: It’s an event where a fantastical array of remarkable, artisan-crafted handiworks awaits us.

A Twinkling Night Sky Backdrop - Chapter 2

[City of Affluence - Day]

A few days later, we arrived in the City of Affluence to search for the perfect teacup.

Rustica: It looks like each store is displaying their products in the windows. They must be showing off their best works.

Rustica: Let’s wander the town and window-shop for now, and perhaps we’ll make a miraculous find.

Akira: That sounds like a plan! The city seems livelier than usual too, so I’m excited to get started.

Akira: Although, everyone around us looks so refined… I can’t help but feel out of place.

Rustica: There’s no need to feel self-conscious. These people are just like us after all, seeking a miracle amongst these wares.

Rustica: Come along now, Master Sage.

Encouraged by Rustica’s words, I followed his lead, and the two of us set off to explore the shops.

The first teacup we encountered was an ornate piece finely crafted from gold. Afterwards, we found cups fashioned from glass, cups with gemstones embedded in them, and so forth…

Akira: It’s like we’re in an art gallery. Everything is so extravagant, I hardly know where to begin, much less what to buy.

Akira: Oh, I know. What kind of teacup would you choose, Rustica? Maybe hearing your opinion will give me an idea.

Rustica: It’d be my pleasure to help. If I had to decide…

Rustica: I’d first imagine the face of someone I’d like to have tea with and view my options from there.

Rustica: For example, look at that teacup with the buttons painted on it. If I gave that to Chloe, I’m sure he’d show me the most dazzling smile.

Akira: Oh, I see now! I’d like to give this a try too. It seems like fun.

Rustica: I’m pleased to hear that, although this is merely my way of doing things.

Rustica: The paths we can take are as limitless as the sky. I’m sure somewhere out there is a path right for you as well, Master Sage.

Rustica: Please, take pleasure in even these moments of struggle. I won’t leave your side, so we can take our time.

Akira: …Thank you so much, Rustica. Now then, let’s take a look over there!

[City of Affluence - Sunset]

Akira: (Sigh. We scoured the entire city, but no luck…)

Despite circling through every shop, I still couldn’t decide on a teacup to buy.

Akira: Um, Rustica… Could I ask you something?

Rustica: Please, ask away.

Akira: Since you told me I could take any path… Could I ask you to choose something for me?

Rustica: You want me to decide?

Akira: Yes. I’d like to cherish this cup for a long time, so I didn’t want to make a hasty decision. However, I got so wrapped up in trying to find the perfect one that I couldn’t choose at all…

Akira: That’s why, I’d like to leave it to you, Rustica.

Akira: If you were the one to decide, I think I'd cherish it even more as a memento of the time we spent together.

Rustica: Master Sage… If it’s alright with you, then I’d be happy to oblige.

Rustica: However, since we’ve come all this way, I’d like to make my selection a surprise for you.

Rustica: Would you mind waiting for me at that cafe while I search?

A Twinkling Night Sky Backdrop - Chapter 3

Rustica: (A teacup for the Master Sage… Oh, I wonder what I should get.)

Rustica: (They’re always taking the time to connect with us, so I’d like to choose something that expresses all of our feelings like a choir of voices in song.)

Rustica: …Ah, that reminds me. They seemed a little sad during our last tea party together.

Rustica: (If the Master Sage had to return to their world someday…)

Rustica: …! …Oh my, this teacup…

[City of Affluence - Night]

The crimson red sky had already deepened to blue by the time Rustica returned.

Rustica: My apologies for keeping you waiting, Master Sage.

Akira: Rustica! Welcome back.

With a smile on his face, he smoothly took my hand, and, before I knew it, led me towards his broom.

Rustica: This way please. I’d like to present your new teacup against the gorgeous backdrop of the twinkling night sky.

[Starry Sky]

Akira: Wow… The stars are so beautiful!

Rustica: I’m glad you're enjoying yourself. Now then, shall we prepare for a tea party?

As the world gleamed around us like jewels, Rustica waved his finger like a conductor’s baton.

A table and two chairs appeared out of thin air and began to dance, inviting me to take a seat.

Following Rustica’s lead, I move from the broom to the chair. Then, the package in his hand began to glow and the ribbon unfurled itself.

Slowly, its content came into view: a deep blue teacup that seemed to blend right into the night sky.

It began to fill up with tea and…

Akira: Oh...!

A single pinprick of light appeared like the first star in the sky. Twinkling into existence on the side of the cup, it emitted a soft glow.

Rustica: Each time you fill this cup with tea, a star will appear.

Rustica: Thus, no matter how much time passes or distance separates us… This cup will always remember.

Rustica: It will preserve the time we spent together. The times our faces met and we smiled at each other over a delicious blend.

Akira: (Could it be…? Could he be thinking about our tea party from the other day…?)

All around us, the stars were shining.

However, as bright and beautiful as they were, there was no star as precious to me as the one born just before my eyes.

Akira: Thank you so much, Rustica. With this cup, I'm looking forward to our tea parties even more now.

Rustica: Indeed. Let's create a starry sky of our very own together.

Akira: …

Akira: …Someday, when I return to my own world, I hope I can take this cup with me.

With a smile, Rustica began to speak softly and gently. He raised his own cup in the air as if making a vow to the stars.

Rustica: On the chance that you do forget it here, I shall keep watch over it for you.

Rustica: And I’ll cherish it until the day you return. When that time comes, let’s add a new star to the sky.

Rustica and the Bygone Gate - Card Episode

[Rustica’s Room]

Akira: It seems like a gate that will show you the past has appeared on Borda Isle’s beach.

Akira: It reminds me of when I had just arrived in this world. I often thought about the past as a way of calming myself down.

Rustica: It’s lovely that you have such memories to assuage yourself.

Rustica: What kind of things did you think about?

Akira: I’d go back to when I was a kid being read a story by someone I trusted.

Akira: Do you have any comforting memories like that? Something you hold onto when the going gets rough…?

Rustica: Let me see… I’m not very good at remembering the past.

Rustica: However, I can vaguely remember a time filled with happiness.

Akira: What do you mean?

Rustica: Hmm, yes.

Rustica: Faint sunlight pours into a wide and spacious room…

Rustica: There, someone is playing the harpsichord beautifully, its gentle sound filling the air.

Rustica: Outside is the verdant gardens and the azure sky, and by the window, the calm presence of a person…

Rustica: As the sound of singing reverberates.

Rustica: When I imagine such a scene, I can feel myself calming down and my heart put to ease.

Akira: What a beautiful memory… Is this a scene from your past?

Rustica: Who knows? Perhaps it is all in my head.

Rustica: Haven’t you ever experienced that before? When reality becomes all mixed up with your imagination.

Akira: Oh, I think I get what you mean. It’s like misremembering something…

Rustica: Exactly. Even though people say it’s wrong, you can still recall the details as if it truly happened.

Rustica: This reminds me of the time Chloe and I came across a lodging we’d stayed at before.

Rustica: I’d asked him, “Do you remember this place, Chloe? We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Look, we had soup from those very dishes.”

Rustica: However, Chloe told me that he didn’t remember this place at all.

Rustica: Apparently, he’d never seen those blue dishes in his life even though I could so clearly recall how his eyes gleamed when he first saw their beauty.

Akira: Well… Which one of you was right?

Rustica: Neither of us are sure to this day. However, it’s natural for strange things to occur on a wizard’s journey.

Rustica: Either I obtained a false memory or Chloe lost his real one.

Rustica: What do you think, Master Sage?

Home Screen Voice Line

“Journeys are filled not only with joys, but hardships as well. However, when I look back on the road, I find that I can cherish even the bumps along the way… I hope the same is true for you too.”

#rustica #mhyktl #mhyk #mahoyaku #mahoutsukai no yakusoku #long time no see

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zeciex · 7 months

Text

A Vow of Blood

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Daenera Velaryon returns to King’s Landing with the intention of bolstering her mother’s position and reminding both the Greens and nobility that Rhaenyra is the rightful heir to the throne. She has a specific goal in mind: to be a constant source of annoyance to the Greens and is willing to play the political game without hesitation.

However, what catches her off guard is the way Aemond gazes at her and seems to relish in her suffering. He openly expresses his desire to bring about her downfall, her ruination.

This situation leads to a tense game of cat and mouse, with each move escalating the already high stakes. Will their precarious situation crumble as the dragons soar above, or will fate intervene?

After all, love often demands the sacrifice of duty, just as duty can sometimes lead to the demise of love. Characters: Aemond Targaryen X OC, HOTD characters.

Chapter 8: Schemes and Artisans

AO3 - Masterlist

A theater had been erected amidst the lush gardens of the Red Keep, its semi-circular structure complemented by the captivating backdrop of the vast expanse of the sea. The structure was a mix of marble and limestone, ornately carved, and had been built during the reign of Jaehaerys and Alyssan.

Daenera had arranged three elegantly sets of tables on the balcony, offering a splendid view overlooking the stage and the sea. Her invitations had been extended to esteemed guests, including Tris Caswell, the second daughter of Lord Merryweather, Kaylys Merryweather, Lady Fell, and Lady Sylvie Rosby. An invitation had also been extended to Queen Alicent, but that had politely declined, much to Daenera’s delight.

The early morning had been spent making the last preparations. The tables were filled with cakes and fruit, a colorful display of abundance and wealth, with the possibility of being watered with some of the finest wine Westeros had to offer. Daenera had chosen a colorful dress of orange and gold and her hair were braided in the traditional Targaryen way, keeping it from blowing into her face.

She was standing on the balcony, listening to the ladies talk among themselves excitedly, already indulging in the wine. The sun shone brightly and were it not for the shadow the stretched out fabric provides, they would surely have burned.

Jelissa hurried into the middle of the theater, her steps clicking over the pale stone. She looked up at Daenera, a bright smile on her lips. “We’re ready!”

Daenera nodded in acknowledgement.

Jelissa hurried away, letting the guards at the gate know that they could open. She then sprinted back to stand with Joyce by the side of the rounded stage, the table in front of them filled with leather pouches, brimming with unspent money and the promise of more to come.

A mass of people filed in through the gates. People of all colors, backgrounds and skills. Some were from Lys, some Essos, some Pentos. There were Westerosi singers, artists and musicians. Daenera smiled as they gathered by the backdrop of the ocean, all looking up at her expectantly.

“Welcome, my artisans!” Daenera greeted loudly, letting her voice carry out into the theater. “I am Princess Daenera Velaryon, daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon.” Her eyes were sharp as they filtered through the mass of people, lingering on the few that displayed some sort of scrutiny to her words. “I’ve always enjoyed the arts of music and dance, and with my return to the capital, I found myself able to finally show patronage to the thing that I love.”

It wasn’t the entire truth. While she enjoyed music, song and theater, she wasn’t as invested as some other ladies were to the arts. But the thing about artists was, that they traveled throughout the continent, singing their song, acting in plays, telling their stories. And such things held sway.

It was a tactic Queen Visenya herself had once used.

“My mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra, has tasked me with finding artists to patronage. She too is a lover of the arts. We wish that you bring the joy you give us, out into every corner of Westeros. We wish you to sing your songs, play your tunes, and tell your stories to the people. That is our wish.”

And it wouldn’t hurt to sing a little something about her.

“Now, please, show us what you’ve got!”

Daenera looked down at Joyce, giving the maid a nod, who nodded back in acknowledgement. Joyce called out the first number as Daenera took her seat, picking up a grape and propping it into her mouth.

The first artist was a singer. He began with high appraise to Daenera, telling her about his adventures, where he had been, who he had sung for. That was the dreary part of the whole thing. She wasn’t interested in that, all she wanted to know was whether they could sing and what they’d sing.

The Bear and The Maiden Fair seemed to be a favorite among the singers and musicians. Each time it was sung, it lost its appeal, until Daenera would rather listen to Aemond call her a bastard than listen to it once more.

By the time they had reached number seventy seven, more than half the songs had been The Bear and The Maiden Fair. One third of what was left were Maids that bloom in spring, and the rest after that False and the Fair, and Flower of Spring and Little Flower.

It was then an older man stepped out into the middle of the stage, a lute kept close to his breast, dark beard kept and freshly shaved. At the corners of his eyes were crows feet and a deep line cleaved through his forehead. He bowed to the princess and her company. “I am Samwell Tradd, my princess. I have played the cold seat of the North, to the sand dunes of Dorne, but I have played for none other as important as your mother, the good princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

This piqued Daenera’s interest and she stood from her seat, carrying the cup of wine with her to the railing of the balcony, which she leaned against with her forearms, squinting in the sunlight of the afternoon. “You played for my mother?”

“That I did, Princess,” Ser Samwell Tradd confirmed. “It was a pleasure to play for her.”

“What did you play?”

Samwell Tradd chuckled to himself. “ Under the Dragon's eye.”

Daenera grinned.

“She made me sing it… two dozen times over,” Samwell told the princess. “She would not hear another, only that, until my hand cramped and my voice was raw, and even then, she bid me continue.”

“Then would it not suit you if I asked you to play it again?” Daenera responded with a gracious smile.

“For you, The Realms Flower, I will play it again.” Samwell Tradd plucked a few strings on the lute, humming to loosen his vocal cords, and then began to sing.

She fled with her ships and her people,Her heart broken for those she could not save.Nymeria, fearless and wise, led with determination in her eyes. With ten thousand ships, she led her people’s flight, Across the Narrow Sea, seeking a new life.

Under the dragon’s eye, they sailed so far and wide, Nymeria and her Rhoynar, their hopes and dreams allied. Through hardships and trails, their spirits remained high,Bound by a destiny, under the dragon’s watchful eye.

Through stormy seas and treacherous tides they roamed, Leaving behind their homeland, their past disowned. With strength and resilience, they faced each new day, Guided by Nymeria’s wisdom, they found their own way. Through shifting sands, they found their place, United under Nymeria’s willful grace.

So let the tale be sung, of Nymeria’s nobel quest, Of the Rhoynar’s journey, their resilience put to a test. Under the dragon’s eye, their spirit never broke, A testament to courage.

Under the dragon’s eye.

“…Under the dragon’s eye,” Samwell Tradd finished.

Daenera exchanged a knowing nod with Joyce, who discreetly handed the singer a pouch filled with jiggling coins. It carried more than mere currency, it was a symbol of her endorsement, and more significantly, Rhaenyra’s endorsement. Unspoken expectations were attached to the weight of those coins, urging the singer to spread the good word of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realms Delight, and the Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne.

While some noble houses disregarded the significance of the common folk, Daenera recognized their importance. After all, it was the small folk who dutifully paid their taxes, who ensured the smooth flow of goods, who tirelessly toiled to create the fabrics and wines that the nobles delighted in. Though unaware of their latent power, the small folk held a sway over the very fabric of society.

And with the small folks' support, they could sway their lords and ladies.

By the time the sun had dipped down behind the horizon, Daenera’s head was buzzing with wine, sun and song. Fragmented lyrics sailed around her skull, not able to gather enough strength to become a full song. Lady Fell had left the younger ladies to their own devices, citing exhaustion. Daenera couldn’t blame the older woman.

“Have you heard about Prince Aemond?” Kaylys Merryweather said, fanning herself with the fan, her cheeks flush with the wine. She smiled covertly. They were all leaning back, enjoying the otherwise quiet. Daenera had called it quits, telling the remainder of the performers to come back on the morrow. At the mention of Aemond her head propped up again.

“That someone tried to poison him?” Lady Sylvie Rosby quipped behind her own fan, crumbs littering her chest from all the cakes she had indulged herself in. Kaylys Merryweather and Lady Rosby shared a look.

“I heard that it was an allergic reaction,” Tris Caswell interjected.

“An allergic reaction? Please, that is the excuse you use for covering up poisoning,” Kaylys Merryweather criticized. “Someone poisoned his sword.”

“Do they know who did it?” Daenera inquired, her voice raw and tired.

Lady Merryweather shook her head, her blond strands whipping over her shoulders and back again. “They have no idea. Some say it was a failed assasination-,”

“Oh please,” Daenera groaned at the grotesqueness of that statement. If she wanted him dead, she very well would have used something else, something less obvious and that left little to no evidence. An assassination with poisoning, should either be quick or drawn out over time, the ladder creating less suspicion if the poisoned had a history of illness. No one would suspect a thing after a long bout of fever and illness. People simply dropped dead of that.

“A scorn lover then?” Lady Sylvie suggested.

“Or Aegon,” Tris proposed. The women all nodded in silence, thinking. “Aegon is known for his absurd pranks.”

“But would he harm his own brother?” Lady Sylvie asked. Aegon would most definitely harm his brother for his own amusement , Daenera thought.

“I saw his hands. They were swollen and red, the poor thing. The Maesters said that they’d itch and burn for a few days, and there was little they could do.”

“It’s just awful,” Lady Sylvie continued in a huff. “If the princes aren't safe from such attacks, then we’re all at risk.”

“I severely doubt you are at risk, Lady Sylvie,” Daenera cut in. “Why would an assassin or prankster target you?”

Lady Sylvie blinked at Daenera’s cutting words. Daenera wouldn’t entertain her with pretends of importance. Lady Sylvie might be a lady, but she wasjust a lady. She was neither heir nor the first born. Her brother was more of a target and her father even more still. Her words seemed to have struck a chord and Lady Sylvie glowered.

“I personally think Prince Aemond is quite handsome,” Lady Merryweather continued, ignorant to the tension. The second daughter to Lord Merrywhether were betrothed to one of the lower houses of the Reach, the name of which eluded Daenera. The Lady was five and twenty, a crone by small folks' accounts. She was allowed to dream though.

Everyone stared at her.

“What?”

“He's been maimed,” Lady Sylvie chided. “He’s a one eyed prince. And have you seen the scar? It's so grim and disgusting. If it had been me, I would have flung myself from the highest window in the Keep.”

You may yet do that .

“I think he’s handsome,” Lady Merrywheather reiterated. “And strong and tall. I can overlook the scar and maiming for the handsome side of his face.”

“You’ll have to sit at his right side then,” Daenera muttered, head throbbing with the subject of Aemond and ‘handsome’ in the same sentence. If the cutting edge of a knife was handsome, then she supposed Lady Merryweather was right. “Or perhaps it’s best to sit where he cannot see you.”

“What do you think he’s got hiding underneath his eyepatch?” Tris quietly asked.

“Not his eye,” Daenera responded, bored with the conversation.

They ended the evening not long after, scattering to the winds while the servant’s cleaned up and prepared for the day after. Daenera had dismissed her maids after presenting them with a piece of cake each and kind words for a job well done. Jelissa had been extremely excited, rambling on about her favorite singer, while Joyce teased her relentlessly. Daenera watched them go, turning on her heels to take the long way back to her quarters, heading through the garden.

The rose bushes barely managed to overpower the smell of the city. On days where the wind came from land, it was especially rough. But on this day, the gods had graced them with a mild sea wind. The sky turned golden as the sun disappeared below the horizon, the last rays keeping the gardens from falling into shadow.

Daenera took a deep breath, trying to clear her heavy head, rolling her stiff neck from spending the day on her ass.

“You’re quite creative, I have to give you that,” Aemond’s voice split her quiet apart, the sound like a pick beating against stone, splitting it in two.

Daenera’s shoulders immediately tensed up and she breathed out an annoyed huff. “You’re out of the infirmary.”

“Poisoned sword,” Aemond hummed, approaching her. It was strange to see him here, in the gardens, surrounded by soft beauty. It had been just as strange to see him in the sept, though there the heavy smog had coiled around him, curled up the nape of his neck, hung around him like a cloak of shadows. Now he was bathed in golden light that made him seem wholly unholy.

He was no man of flowers. He was a sword, meant to cut, to stab, to bleed one dry. A weapon.

“If it were poison you’d be dead,” Daenera corrected him. “Or severely sick. As I’ve heard, you must have had an allergic reaction to something.”

His scoff was sharp and dismissing. “An allergic reaction?”

“Those sometimes take a few days to recover from. I believe you’ll be back to your pristine state before the feast.”

Her gaze flickered across his face, trying to decipher his intentions, though the wine clouded her thoughts. From his cheekbones down to the curl of his smirking lip, she studied him briefly before refocusing on his eyes, masking the curiosity clawing at her insides with thinly veiled sympathy that bordered on mock pity. “Does it ich terribly?”

Daenera squealed when Aemond gripped her arm, pulling her into one of the alcoves of the garden. They were totally enclosed by an overgrown pavilion, the vines climbing up the columns, to spread across the roof. She balked at him, ripping her arm out of his grip, noting the bandaged hand. “What are you doing?!”

“You vicious little cunt,” Aemond sneered, his face contorting in disdain.

The wine not only made her cheeks flushed but it dulled her senses as well. “Mmm, call me that again, I rather enjoy it.”

Aemond’s eyes were all fire and ice. They burned with an intensity she hadn’t yet seen, with something utterly terrifying and vicious. Something with teeth and claws and breath of fire. “I should punish you, and tear you apart.”

“What are you going to do, bend me over the knee like a child?” Daenera taunted him, flipping her braid back to its proper place, her eye glaring daggers at the prince. “If I remember correctly, you were the one to start this. You burned me. Or have you forgotten?”

Daenera raised her bandaged hand and provocatively waved it in front of his face. He had burned her writing hand, and she had retaliated by making it itch so intensely that he might desire to peel off his own skin. All she had done was to respond to his initial transgression. They could have maintained their distance, preserved civility, but he just had to bother her.

With a mocking expression, Daenera glanced down at his hand, then back up at him. “Oh, was it your swordhand? Can’t have a little fun without it?”

“Do you believe I won't retaliate?” Aemond bit at her. “Do you think I’m oblivious to your schemes?”

Daenera blinked.

“Talking with Caswell, befriending his daughter, the musicians. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“I have no idea what you’re alluding to,” Daenera feigned ignorance.

“Surprising, I must say,” Aemond taunted with a sly smirk. “Your feeble attempts are bound to fail, I will make sure of it, Lady Strong. ”

Aemond advanced towards her, a predator stalking its prey, his teeth appearing sharp as fangs in the warning light. Shadows enveloped him, accentuating his sharp bone structure, tracing delicately over his features. In the dim light, he became the embodiment of wickedness. There was an inherent darkness within him that would forever resist any semblance of light of purity.

It was as intriguing as it was frightening.

Her back collided with a stone column, and the tendrils of the overgrown vines brushed against her bare shoulders, entangling with her hair. She swallowed, feeling the dizziness intensify from the wine.

In an instance, Aemond’s hand clasped around her jaw, his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her cheeks, reminiscing of their encounter in the sept. Her eyes widened, and she fought against his grip, attempting to push him away as her heart picked up speed.

Aemond absorbed her strikes against his chest as if they were nothing, a menacing growl emanating from deep within him, gradually morphing into a coarse chuckle. “I’m only giving voice to what is so plain for everyone to see.”

“That is treason!” Daenera growled.

“It is the truth, is it not?” Aemond asked amused at her anger. “ That’s why you play your little scheme with the lords and ladies, so desperately hoping to forge alliances in case your mothers imprudence comes to light. Should it not be my sweet half-sister who’s out here, tirelessly forging those alliances? Shouldn’t she be the one fighting tooth and nail to secure her own place as heir to the throne?”

“Aemond,” Daenera warned.

“It’s what they’re all thinking,” Aemond continued maliciously. “Along with wondering whether you take after her.”

Daenera tried to pry her face from his grip, but he held fast.

“They’re all wondering whether a marriage to you is worth the risk. And weather you are as impudent as your mother…” Daenera beat against him, growling at the insult. “They think ‘will she carry bastards and try and pass them off as true borns’.”

The scent of smoke and crackling fire surrounded her as Aemond drew nearer. With each beat of her heart, a surge of heat cascaded down her spine, coiling in the depths of her belly. Her gaze darted between his piercing blue eye and the eyepatch, as if they would tell her something she didn’t know, and then lowered to his lips, drawn into a sharp sneer. Her heart shuddered in her chest, her gaze burning with intensity.

“I am going to ruin you,” Aemond vowed. “I’m going to ruin you, consume you, destroy you.”

In a fleeting instant, his gaze descended to her lips, carrying a wicked and malicious gleam, brimming with both hatred and an unnameable, devastating force. His thumb brushed against her lips, a menacing gesture that threatened to smudge the lip tint she had applied to accentuate one of her redeeming features. If her mind had been clearer, she might have sunk her teeth into his thumb.

Aemond’s pale locks tickled the exposed skin of her bosom as he leaned in, his breath scorching against the delicate shell of her ear. “I’m going to destroy you and win this war.”

He abruptly released her and Daenera pushed him away from her, breathing heavily and forcefully, eyes ablaze with indignation and fury. Who did he think he was?

She sneered. “I will take out your other eye before I let you destroy me. Two can play at this game. And if you burn me, I will burn you.”

Once again, Daenera found herself feeling from the suffocating presence of Aemond. Clutching her skirts tightly, she propelled herself forward, each step one of panic and determination. The corridors of the Keep blurred as her hurried steps echoed, giving rise to the feeling of the ghosts laughing at her.

King’s Landing had become a treacherous maze of power and deceit, and Aemond embodied the shifting tides of its dark underbelly. His transformation was undeniable, a chilling embodiment of calculated malevolence and an untamed chaos. He was an unpredictable storm she had to venture through.

As Daenera ascended the stairs, the weight of realization settled upon her. Aemond’s presence had already begun to creep under her skin. She would have to root it out and shield herself from it, but she had a sneaking suspicion that the seeds of darkness he had planted wouldn’t be so easily removed. She supposed it was a challenge she would have to accept.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #A Vow of Blood #my fanfiction #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

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crispycreambacon · 4 months

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🪱 Intro Post: Take 2 🪱

Mellow-Yellow-Welcome to my art blog!

My full name is Chris Pycream Bacon, but you can call me Crispy! Others have bestowed upon me Chris P, Chris, Christopher and Bacon which I very much welcome.

In here you'll find, well, art! Not just from me but from others as well because sharing art is caring. I also sometimes post reviews, opinions or just jamble-tamble-rambles.

You can find me in other places, namely in AO3 where I post my writings and another Tumblr blog where everything is a little less organized and rambley :P

This is an inclusive place, so POC, LGBT+, disabled/neurodivergent and non-Christian people are welcome here!

If you are discriminatory towards any one of these groups or are just a contemptible being, you're getting the boot :}

With that out of the way, you can learn more about me and find my tagging system under the "Keep Reading" section!

I love drawing anything from comics to illustations to OCs to fanart. I just draw whatever my heart desires at the moment. One day, I'd love to be an animator or a comic artist, but I'm open to whatever art career welcomes me with open arms!

Other than visual arts, you can find me indulging in writing, singing, acting, listening to music and yelling about whatever interests me in the moment. I also have two cats named Takoyaki and Sashimi, a dog named Miso, and a dinosaur plush named Dinosara that I adore very much!

I'm a non-binary trans person and am very annoying about it in a silly way :3 I'm also a bisexual aroace in a queerplatonic relationship with the most specialest, most girlypop fish in the world <3 (Arden if you're reading this HI HELLO WELLOW!!!)

Here are a list of tags to keep things organized!

#chris p fried art - My art

#chris p fried rambles - My commentary

#chris p fried writings - My writings

#artists cooking gourmet - Art made by other artists

#chris p fried doo doo - My shitposts

#chris p fried answers - My answers to asks

#people frying stuff - General posts made by other people

#clowns burning the kitchen (affectionate) - Funny posts

#a nice warm soup after a long day - Wholesome posts

#alphabet soup matters - LGBT+ posts

#important - Awareness posts (Can potentially be triggering; view at your own discretion)

I try my best to trigger tag posts. If you'd like anything to be tagged, feel free to shoot me an anonymous ask or a message, and I will do so for you!

Feel free to interact or reach out! I'm not always the best in responding on time, but I do my best :>

Whether you're here for my art, my rambles or just wanna have a chill time with the funny demon, I hope you'll enjoy your stay! ^w^ ~ ☆

#meet the artist #intro post #blog intro #introduction #artists on tumblr #artblr #end of the year post babyyyyyyy #art #digital art #chris p fried art #EDIT: I DIDN'T MEAN TO POST THIS HELP?????#OKAY I GUESS #IT'S PUBLIC NOW LET'S GO 💀💀💀

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oldguardleatherdog · 8 months

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Today's Wall O' Text: Our lives are at stake. Fat-shaming Trump is more than OK - it's necessary.

I've been taking hits for my blog entry in response to a Facebook post by a cyber friend taking the LGBTQ+ community to task for making fun of Trump's weight after he lied during his arrest in Atlanta yesterday that he weighed 215 pounds. I posted a blistering screed here earlier today as a reaction to seeing some Facebook friends make a post shaming the community for calling Trump out on yet another lie that his credulous followers will gladly swallow whole and think it tastes like chicken.

It boggles my mind that we're indulging in self-loathing admonitions to play nice and treat Trump with human kindness while he and his tens of millions of proxies are carrying out genocide against transgender Americans and passing legislation openly designed to remove LGBTQ+ people from civil society.

I've deleted my original post and follow-up and am restating it here with settings that limit the replies and reblogs, all of which were filled with vile personal insults and invective aimed at me for committing the SJW's canon unforgivable sin of making fun of someone's appearance - even though that "someone" is directing a campaign of forced detransitioning, enforced separation, erasure of us from history and culture, and is directing efforts that have the stated intent to immiserate and end our lives.

I've been a gay activist fighting for our right to exist for nearly four decades, and I don't care if I lose goodwill or karma points or cyberfriends over this stance. That stuff is wonderful and means a great deal, I don't take it lightly, and I know this might mean thee end of the goodwill coming my way and could mess up my ability to be here and help in other ways...

but the danger we're in is greater than my concern for my gig, ego, or status, and I'll give it all up in order to give this battle everything I've got. This is my last stand after nearly 40 years of activism, marching with ACT/UP and Queer Nation in the 90s fighting against the same forces, when I'd just gone HIV positive, when my friends and loved ones were dying of cat and bird diseases, down to 80 pounds in an oxygen tent, covered with lesions, tongues eaten away by candida...

They never got the chance to marry, to see 40, to find real love, to finish their art - and some made me promise that I would go on in their name and with their spirit, to finish the art and the work and the life they weren't going to get the chance to finish (I know the trolls will say I'm lying and they can F off all the way to Hell and stay there, the nerve of them to shit on their souls and our memories of them).

I may lose a lot of cyber friends, and that's unfortunate, but I have to sleep at night.

Here's what I wrote:

To those who are telling me we shouldn't make fun of Trump's weight:

I wholeheartedly dissent.

Trump, like Reagan, is our murderer.

The current and ongoing trans genocide is his fault.

Drag bans, the continuing LGBTQ+ rights rollback, the systematic erasure of us from libraries and history and culture, the "groomerpedo" slur bombardment, pushing us into exile from our home states, legislation pending that will prohibit us from public spaces, the explicit goal of removing us from public view and civil society, Florida doctors who can refuse to treat us, forced detransition of all trans people in Florida and soon elsewhere, armed Proud Boys at drag shows, the Colorado Springs slaughter, and worse: all of this is directly Trump's doing.

And still, we're deluded enough to go high when they go low!

Attempts from within the community to muzzle ourselves in the name of some ridiculous woo-woo SJW directive, this insidious assimilationist garbage, plays right into their hands and renders us weak and impotent.

No one is going to rescue us. If you're not involved in hardcore activism RIGHT NOW, you are complicit in their efforts to kill us.

I dare you to challenge me. Make fun of the fatass bastard with gleeful abandon.

Get with the Goddamn program before it's too late.

***

I've restricted replies and additions to the main post. Feel free to sound off in the notes and reblogs, but this is where I stand on the most important issue we're contending with as a community, and I won't allow my words to be conditioned or their impact diluted.

I know my beloved mutuals will be dismayed, and I'm truly sorry because I do value you and your own well-reasoned and strong opinions and this could reasonably be regarded as an attempt to diminish or trivialize you politically, philosophically, and personally; please know that's not my intent.

As an LGBTQ+ activist for more than 37 years, who marched with ACT/UP and Queer Nation during a time that was in many ways worse than the climate of today, I have a duty and an obligation to say things clearly, bluntly, fully, with unambiguous conviction:

OUR LIVES ARE AT STAKE. PEOPLE ARE SUFFERING. WE'RE BEING DRIVEN OUT OF OUR HOMES.

THEY ARE FORCING TRANS PEOPLE TO REVERT TO THEIR ASSIGNED GENDER AT BIRTH SLOWLY AND PAINFULLY WITH BRUTAL SADISTIC GLEE, MAKING THEM WATCH THEIR BODIES DYSMORPH AND REGRESS HOUR BY HOUR.

THEY HAVE CLEARLY, PUBLICLY, AND REPEATEDLY STATED THEIR INTENT TO REMOVE US FROM SIGHT AND CIVIL SOCIETY AND THEY ARE DOING IT TO US RIGHT NOW, TODAY, AS YOU READ THIS -

- and you have the sheer unmitigated temerity, the nerve, the gall to tell me I'm wrong to encourage fat-shaming of that man, that loathsome pustulent festering open wound on our nation and our world, whose God is his belly, whose proxies and minions and TENS OF MILLIONS OF FOLLOWERS AND WORSHIPPERS IN THIS COUNTRY are in lockstep with his intent -

- you tell me I'm wrong, shamelessly and mindlessly and in open denial of what you see in front of your naive and deluded eyes, and when you do this YOU ARE TELLING ME YOU DON'T CARE, YOU THINK I'M LYING TO YOU, YOU WON'T HELP SAVE US, YOU ARE UNWILLING TO SAVE YOURSELF, and YOU ARE MAKING THE CHOICE TO JOIN HIM AND AID HIS EFFORTS TO WIPE US OUT.

Join me, or get the hell out of my sight, my life, and my community. We need you like we need AIDS - and I've had AIDS for 33 years and I tell you: you are worse than AIDS, because AIDS is a mindless and brainless and soulless and consciousless killer, a virus, but you are killing us knowing full well what you are doing.

That is all that I am going to say to you.

#join or die

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sonicasura · 1 year

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Personal Headcanons #3

Another set of headcanons for everyone. I forgot to mention that transformations can count as separate entities. It just depends on how significantly different they are from the original form. EX: Goku's Super Saiyan 4 counts but any other of his transformations don't.

Let's get started.

Dark Jak

Has three states of mind: vicious honey badger, spiteful house cat and cuddly snuggle bug. How Dark Jak interacts with someone depends on Jak's viewpoints plus that person's actions. Those he likes are considered 'treasure', kind like a dragon with it's hoard. Expected as this form encompasses all animalistic instincts.

Addicted to positive affection. The moment you give Dark Jak any form of it, he's going to latch on for more. Will melt into a purring mess if given cuddles or nuzzles. Definitely knead someone with his claws but is extremely careful. Horns are surprisingly sensitive to soft touches.

This Dark Eco entity is an utter food fiend. Jak definitely didn't eat well during his time in the Baron's prison. Something Dark Jak will try to correct whenever possible. Make sure you stock up cause your pantry is getting obliterated in a food frenzy. Dark Jak absolutely loves any home cook meal and tries not to make a mess unlike with any other food(he'll tear into that like a hangry raccoon).

Can talk but prefers not to. If Dark Jak does speak then it's usually towards people he really cares about. His voice has a distorted growl to it which can be barely heard unless he talks. If you aren't unnerved by this vocal change, then expect small conversations with this dark form more often.

Hank J. Wimbleton

Hank is definitely an animal lover with cats being his obvious favorite. Considering Nevada probably has no animals, if someone ever takes him to a real world zoo then this man will be vibrating in excitement. Hank probably runaway with any petting zoo critters if ya don't stop the Crossling.

It is possible to earn his respect, even rarer his trust. This partly stems from how one views Hank as a whole. If you don't care about his reputation or don't want anything from him is one step in the right direction. Hank does value physical strength and combat prowess but willpower is also something he admires.

Inquisitive as all hell. Anything that has Hank's attention is gonna to be watched like a hawk. Sometimes the art of killing can get dull so a new one interest helps ease the boredom. He will ask(sign) questions if possible.

Seriously needs food therapy than just normal therapy. Considering Nevada is stuck in a post apocalypse, then Hank definitely ate shit that isn't healthy and possibly not moral(i.e potential cannibalism). He will eat dirt or rocks on habit even if there's actual food in the pantry.

Rayman

Uncomfortable around any circus to the point he will stay out of the area it's being hosted in. Rayman doesn't like the place but the Thingamajig is completely chill with any performers or kind workers. People speculate he've might be an ex circus member and had a bad time at his old job.

Definitely the type to indulge in some new hobbies. Rayman taken up gardening after the events of his second adventure and has a small garden to help with stress. (Rayman 2) It's more manageable than baking cause he might've became a stress baker with that hobby.

Rayman takes a lot of naps because his adventures are usually quite exhausting. Travelling on little sleep and barely any proper meals will do that to anyone. He used to sleep like a log but is now a light sleeper since his second adventure ruined that habit.

Rayman is quite a skilled painter. He likes to paint things or scenery that he witnessed on his adventures. The Thingamajig rarely sells them as it's just a hobby and only does it if he needs cash. Rayman's paintings might be magical in nature but its a coin flip on whether something happens or not. He doesn't really do it on purpose and is unaware of any magic mishap.

That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later!

#sonicasura #rayman #rayman series #jak and daxter #jnd #jak #jak mar #dark jak #madness combat #madness project nexus #madcom #hank j. wimbleton #hank j wimbleton #madness hank #madness combat hank #personal headcanon

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tired-fandom-ndn · 1 year

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“…fundamentalist Christian bullshit about how pleasure is addictive in general”

Do you have any resources on this? Asking because the limited information I had on addiction (mainly from 12-Step/XA groups) lead me to believe that intense euphoria was a sign of addiction (which I know now isn’t true but I’m wondering if there’s information on why that belief exists).

I'm not the best person to be giving links to papers or going deep into the history of this sort of thing, I'd really recommend looking into addiction advocacy and sex education organizations for that sort of thing, but I can ramble a bit about the generals.

So the thing about pleasure being addictive in itself is in fact very much fundamentalist Christian bullshit. Specifically, it's from the idea that pleasure is sinful and that suffering is holy; pleasure is a trick from the devil to make you turn from the holiness of Christ and God and lose your devotion in favor of false and temporary earthly pleasures.

So much of what we "know" about addiction is based in Christian fundamentalism because it was the churches and Christian politicians who funded so much of Western science. It's only been fairly recently that we've realized how much damage that's done to our understanding of ourselves, each other, and our world. Addiction and prisons are some of the biggest examples of this, especially in terms of how we view the concepts of pleasure and suffering.

If pleasure itself was addictive, then we'd be able to get addicted to anything even slightly enjoyable. We'd get addicted to good food (fun fact, sugar addiction is also a myth!), petting cats, listening to music, making art, reading books, pressing flowers, whatever your hobby is. Everyone in the world would be constantly suffering from withdrawal over something that they currently aren't able to partake in.

With our increased understanding of how addiction actually forms, we're now aware that it's not about pleasure. Addiction doesn't exist in a vacuum of brain chemicals, it's the result of social and environmental factors. People form addictions because it's a way to cope with things going on in their lives, internally but mainly externally. Poverty, abuse, neglect, intergenerational trauma, bigotry, etc are all things that addiction is directly linked to.

And addiction itself isn't just about the immediate pleasure, it's also a physical thing. Addiction comes with consequences when it's not "indulged"; that's what withdrawal is, the body being denied something that it's formed a severe and often unhealthy dependence on. That isn't always a bad thing, people can and do become addicted to vital medications that they need to survive. But withdrawal involves physical and mental ramifications, the body trying to compensate for the loss of something it's started to see as necessary.

Addictions that don't have a direct chemical impact on your body, like gambling which just causes a dopamine spike and drop, are almost always directly linked to mental illnesses like personality disorders and OCD and people with chemical addictions, to things like drugs and alcohol, are far more likely to also develop addictions to things like gambling. It's a coping mechanism.

Porn and sex addiction are things that were seen as just facts of life even when there was no evidence that they actually existed, solely because our puritan and Christian society considers sex to be something inherently dirty, unhealthy, and dangerous. Porn addiction is now mostly seen as something that people only self-identify with because they think their porn habits are unhealthy with no real evidence of that, while sex addiction is redefined as hypersexuality.

This ramble was all over the place and I apologize for that. I hope it's still coherent enough to understand lmao

#Anonymous

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legionofpotatoes · 11 months

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it probably wasn't a great idea to go see GOTG vol 3 right after our cat died, but its cathartic footprint surprisingly outweighed the heavy stuff. we're both utterly jaded with the MCU but the guardians was always our special movie, the little pearl of musically driven nonsense that we discovered and bonded over as a fresh couple. So we knew we wanted to see it off on its final voyage sometime. truth told I've grown my own sideways direction away from the movies and the wonky optics of gunn's filmmaking in particular, but it is undeniable that his work stands out specifically because it deeply, sincerely gives a shit about love, as clunky as it can sometimes be in that articulation. And not on a level of lip service or self-indulgent wankery either, but in viewing empathy as the legitimate red-hot center of the universe that unlocks and heals all things. Love it or hate it, that's the bet he goes all in on and commits hard enough to make the rest of the drivel feel aimless by comparison.

and yeah there's some truly bad efforts at injecting nuance in the eco angle of it all (rocket's biggest character turn comes from him realizing all life is sacred regardless of intellect level, yet we still need a fanfared end credit beat of him *very* casually justifying culling a herd of predators? maybe leave that part unsaid if you won't do anything deeper with it?), but it almost feels like a necessary trade-off for sticking with that core through the thick and thin. Gunn's storytelling has always been sorta fable-like in its rigid moral doctrines, with all the good and the bad that would entail. Definitely pays off in affording them moments of real catharsis though, and the truly lost art of wrapping things up with everyone dancing and screaming their joy out without a hint of cynicism about it.

felt like a goodbye to many things, both in its text and outside of it. I found myself embracing those implications

#guardians of the galaxy spoilers #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 spoilers #it really is a sincere ode to love from a perspective that has a limited understanding of it - but it IS sincere #and that sadly stands out it today's slog of mainstream media #text #great needledrops though. when florence came on I had an out of body experience #did NOT expect to hear that song out of a raccoon's zune

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

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folie à deux

Sometimes poison is sweet.

Selina Romanov and Draco Malfoy met when they were only eleven years old. The two of them have always shared an intense bond, always having gravitated towards one another. But the question still remains, as the years pass by, is their connection one of passion, or delusion?

Warnings: Contains Mature Themes/Language, Themes Such As Sexual Content, Violence, Abuse, Sexual Assault, Eating Disorders

Fifteen.

The rest of the term went by fast. Professor Lupin had eventually resigned as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, to avoid the school being criticized for appointing a werewolf. Gryffindor had won the House Cup, and Slytherin was miserable. Selina hadn't seen Marcus Flint since they day of his disciplinary hearing, but he'd still been allowed to graduate as a seventh-year. Peter Pettigrew was free, but so was Sirius Black, and so was Buckbeak. Selina had heard that Harry had been sent a brand new Firebolt to replace his broken Nimbus 2000, which had been delivered to him in addition to a long, grey feather.

The day the train left for London, Selina was sitting in a car with Jasper, Amana, and Draco, all of them enjoying a quiet moment together before summer officially began. Draco's fourteenth birthday had passed just a couple of days ago, and they had decided to celebrate with sweets on the train before going home.

Draco Malfoy loved sweets, and Selina of course knew this. They had bought just about every variety of sweets sold on the trolley, stuffing their faces as they laughed and talked. Selina had allowed Draco to play with Freya, saying goodbye to her before the next school year.

Jasper had surprisingly been alright with spending time with Draco. Of course, he was still angry at him about the Valentine's Day party, and he still hated him a bit, but he was currently able to at least spend time with him without punching him in the face. This, Selina figured, was a good start.

As the Hogwarts Express passed through different regions on the way back to London, Amana and Jasper had both eventually taken their naps, leaving Selina and Draco awake across from one another. Both of them seemed troubled to the other, not saying much as they looked out the window and indulged in various candies.

"Something on your mind?" Selina asked Draco.

"I don't know," he muttered, fixed on the view outside the window. "I'm just... Not happy, is all."

"Well. I can't say I am, either," Selina admitted guiltily, glancing over at Jasper peacefully sleeping on her lap.

"Right. Flint," Draco murmured, seeming to feel almost guilty for complaining himself. "I can't believe they allowed him to fucking graduate. He should be in Azkaban for what he did."

"He's not the only one," she sighed indifferently. "Tell me what's on your mind," she invited him.

"Nothing," he replied simply, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "Nothing's on my mind."

"Come on, Draco," she tried to convince him. "How many times are we going to have this conversation?"

"A million times, because you never seem to get it," he rolled his eyes at her.

"I think your problem is that I do get it," she pointed out.

Draco avoided her gaze completely, an angry, pouty look on his face.

"Is that so?" he deflected.

"You miss her," Selina continued softly, "Don't you? Pansy?"

"I don't want to talk about her," he cut her off, casting a spiteful glare in her direction.

Draco resented her question.

"You don't have to act like you don't regret what you did," Selina whispered. "I know you do."

He closed his eyes forcefully, shaking in his seat as he tried to put the Valentine's Day party out of his mind.

"I said I don't want to talk about this," he muttered, looking back down at the cat laying on his lap.

"Fine. Shut me out," Selina sighed, joining him in looking out the window and avoiding eye contact. "I'm only trying to help you."

"That's the thing," Draco argued, "You don't help. You meddle, and you muck things up, and you make me feel like the worst person in the world."

"I could never see you as the worst person in the world," Selina Romanov replied, aghast.

"Maybe not, but being around you, I feel like a piece of shit," he snapped back at her.

"Well, have you ever though that, perhaps, that has absolutely nothing to do with me?" she asked expectantly.

Draco grew more angered by the conversation by the minute.

"Do you have the answers to everything?" he asked her, trying to sound bored.

"How would you know?" Selina snapped. "You hardly listen anyways."

"And you're surprised I never want to talk to you about things?" he scoffed.

Selina scowled angrily. "You're the one who got all defensive with me!"

"You're the one who started hounding me about Pansy!" he argued, seeming irritated that he'd been tricked into saying her name.

"Fine, you win," she sighed. "We don't have to talk at all on the way to London. We'll be silent the entire time. Is that what you want?"

She stared at him patiently, saying absolutely nothing for about a solid five seconds before Draco found himself agitated by it.

"Hey, that's not what I meant!" he protested. "It's awkward now...!"

Selina stared back at him, completely blank.

"Damn it, Sel! Just say something already!" Draco Malfoy demanded.

Selina naturally said absolutely nothing, now looking out the window as she ignored him.

"Sel!" he cried. "Selina! Talk to me! Say something, right now!"

Selina held in her laughter, not saying anything as she sat across from him.

"Damn it, Selina! You win! Just say something already!" he commanded. "It's not funny!"

She struggled to stifle her laughter as he yelled at her, waking up Amana.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded.

"Selina won't talk to me!" Draco complained. "It's annoying!"

"What else is new?" Amana Tesfaye rolled her eyes, throwing a blanket over herself as she went back to sleep.

Selina laughed heartily, happy to be able to smile again.

"Lighten up, will you?" she chuckled, as if nothing had happened.

Draco considered it for a moment, a faint smile appearing on his face as he realized that Selina was, in fact, smiling. He observed that she had been smiling more ever since the night Sirius Black escaped, something that definitely gave everyone more hope.

"Where are you going once we reach London?" Draco continued the conversation.

"Home," she responded.

"Well, yes, I gathered that much," he stated, "But where? Are you going to live with Igor?" he asked her.

"Not quite yet," Selina responded, disappointment in her tone. "He wasn't able to get custody of me in time... I have to go home to my grandmother. At least for now."

"Hey, you don't have to do that," Draco said worriedly. "You should've told me. I could've written to my parents, they'd take you in in a heartbeat—"

"It's okay. It's fine, Draco," she reassured him gently. "I can handle it. I lived with her for eight years, I can handle a little while longer."

"I don't like you living with her, Sel," Draco admitted uneasily. "I don't think you're safe with her."

"I can handle myself," Selina promised, a look of unwavering courage in her greyish eyes.

"That's not what I'm worried about," he reminded her.

"It'll be okay. Igor said it shouldn't be longer than a month," she remarked.

"Okay. Well. If something happens, you tell me," Draco told her. "I'll tell my parents, and they'll take care of it."

"It'll be okay," Selina whispered.

He studied her, almost saddened by the fact that she actually seemed convinced of this herself. They sat in the train compartment until they arrived at the station in London. Selina, Jasper, Amana, and Draco all grabbed their luggage as they headed off of the train in their Muggle attire, ready to start their summer.

"Goodbye, Mana," Selina wrapped her best friend in a hug. "Have fun in Dubai. I'll write you soon."

"I will. I'll write whenever," Amana promised. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Selina held her close.

"I'm sorry about everything," the girl told her. "I still can't believe what Elspeth did. If I would've known, I could've—"

"Hey. It's not your fault," Selina smiled, holding her friend's hands.

"Thanks," Amana chuckled. "It's not yours, either, you know," she reminded her thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I know," Selina nodded. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"See you soon. Love you," Amana said goodbye to her as she joined her parents.

Draco Malfoy was standing around with Crabbe and Goyle, attempting to seem somewhat busy with friends as his parents waited for him on the platform.

"Now I have you all to myself," Jasper grinned, chuckling as he hugged Selina.

"Easy. We're still in public," she giggled happily.

"Are you sure you can't come for dinner tonight? My mum says she'd love to have you over."

"I would if I could," Selina sighed, "But... something tells me I'll have to work out a lot of things with my grandmother tonight."

"Yeah, that's understandable," Jasper Carroll nodded, looking down at the ground. "Just... let me know how it goes, okay?"

"I will," Selina promised, looking up at the taller boy. "But I'll be fine."

"Yeah. You will," Jasper nodded, kissing the top of her head.

"I love you," she whispered, meaning to keep it private between the two of them.

He smiled as he kissed her, holding her face in his hands as he relished in the moment. "I love you like I've never loved anyone. You're the only reason I never want to be alone anymore."

"I'll always love you," she vowed, slowly releasing his hand as she walked away to where her grandmother had arrived near the Malfoys. "I'll write you tonight."

"Alright. I look forward to it," he told her, walking off to find his parents.

Selina sighed, bracing herself physically and emotionally as she and Draco decided they couldn't stall any longer.

"I hate your grandmother," Draco Malfoy whispered to her.

"Me too," Selina muttered, looking at her with no emotion.

The two of them approached the adults, waiting to leave King's Cross.

"Dominique," Narcissa greeted stiffly.

"Narcissa," Dominique Morais frowned.

"Hello, Gran," Selina sighed reluctantly.

"Hello, disappointment," the old woman said.

Draco's hand clenched into a fist as he tried to contain his reaction, much like his mother.

"Hi, Selina," Narcissa smiled warmly, her demeanor changing completely. "How were your finals, dear?"

"Pretty good, thanks," she responded politely. "I've got a good feeling about them."

"That's good," Lucius Malfoy chimed in, arm resting on his wife's back, "Do keep in touch over the summer. We're always here if ever you should need anything."

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," Selina thanked him courteously.

"No need. She's got me," Dominique smiled proudly, forcibly wrapping an arm around her daughter.

Selina was sickened by her grandmother's touch, immediately shoving her off of her as she took a couple of steps to the right towards Draco. He looked at her uncomfortably, trying to decide whether or not he felt like cooperating with her request to behave amicably.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked her quietly.

Selina nodded quickly. "Don't worry about it."

"You're sure?" he asked skeptically.

"It's fine," Selina muttered, still looking at her grandmother with nothing but contempt.

*****

Selina and Dominique went dead silent the moment they left King's Cross station, the both of them no longer being watched by the Malfoys. They had returned to the Romanov Estate, where Selina desperately wished she could've been living with her Uncle Igor.

Selina was exhausted, both physically and otherwise, upon her arrival at the manor. She had entered hoping she wouldn't have to endure interacting with her grandmother any longer, tiredly setting down her belongings as she prepared to pick them back up again and walk up to her bedroom.

She took a deep breath, wishing that she could sigh out every bad thought she'd had since the morning. But, she had no such luck. Selina tried to sneak off to her bedroom with her trunk and other belongings, before she heard her grandmother's shrill, grating voice calling for her from the den.

"Selina!"

Selina's skin crawled as she stopped in the foyer, setting her belongings down once again.

"Sorry, Freya," she apologized to her cat in her crate, "It'll just be a moment."

Selina felt bad for the cat, and would've set her free immediately if it weren't for her grandmother, who definitely had a track record of being a danger to any small animal Selina held dear. Reluctant to interact with her but not wanting to risk ignoring her, Selina entered the den where her Dominique had been restlessly pacing the perimeter of the room, a crystal glass of brandy in her hand.

Selina was tentative to enter the room completely given the indescribably 'off' energy in the room, standing in the doorway anxiously.

"You called me, Gran?" she said, sounding on edge.

"Yes," Dominique responded, gingerly sipping her third drink of the day, "I wanted to have a talk with you. A family discussion, you know? We never discuss things anymore."

Selina had no response to this. Of course, the one that first came to mind was 'I wonder why', but she prudently refrained. She deduced that her grandmother already had brandy to stoke the flames of her fire.

"I think we still have some things we need to talk about," Dominique continued, stopping near the black curtains by the window.

"Like what?" her granddaughter asked quietly.

"Is it really true what they're telling me?" Dominique Morais asked, her tone bitter and icy. "That you would rather live with that low-life brother of your father's than with me?" she questioned.

Selina gulped, trying to swallow her fear and sadness. "Gran, I'm not talking to you about this—"

"I raised you!" the woman boomed over her, making Selina's blood boil. "I fed you and clothed you for eight long years, and you've been nothing but ungrateful!" she roared.

Selina didn't know whether or not it was worth it to set her straight, or if she should just mentally curl up into the fetal position until her grandmother was done yelling, the way she usually did. Of course, Selina would often mouth off in response to this disrespect, but still more often than not, she would just allow it to happen in the name of pacifism.

"Do you hate me?!" Dominique snarled at her, the last sip of brandy swishing around in her glass as she gestated wildly. "Do you want to spit in my face this way?!"

Selina Romanov was shaking, struggling to contain herself.

"I think you already know the answer to that," she hissed softly.

"Why?" Dominique demanded. "Why do you get to hate me, hmm? Why do you get to hate me, when I'm the one who has to look at your face every day?! Why do you get to hate me when it's you my daughter died defending!"

"Because I was a child!" Selina boomed, not caring if she was stooping down to her grandmother's level. "I was a child, and I saw my father murder my mother! In what scenario are you the victim?!" she demanded.

"You are not the victim, you are the devil!" Dominque hollered in hysterics. "I don't believe in the devil, but I believe you are the devil! You were born evil, you were born cursed!"

"I was a child!" Selina repeated angrily.

"You break everything you touch!"Dominique wailed, her glass dropping to the ground as she broke out into a fit. "If it weren't for you, your mother would still be alive, you evil, malevolent child!"

"How am I evil?!" Selina asked the same question she'd been asking for the past eight years. "What have I don't that is so unforgivable, aside from 'murdering my mother'?!"

"You commit evil every day you breathe!" Dominique growled. "Ever since you were born, their have been omens! My garden ended up completely wilted the day you were born! Your mother lost my mother's necklace a week after that! Your Aunt Laverne died of a 'mysterious illness'!"

"You're blaming Aunt Laverne's death on me?!" Selina exclaimed in disbelief.

"I won't have it, you're the devil!" the woman insisted. "I know it was you who stole my china last week!"

"I wasn't even in the country last week, let alone at home!" Selina cried.

"Oh, I know it was you, you evil, unclean child!"

"You're mad!" she scoffed loudly.

"Only because you made me!" Dominique shouted at her. "The day your mother brought you home, I knew you were cursed. I knew it!" she insisted.

Selina just watched her screaming fit devolve into a psychotic mania, unsure of how to handle it.

"I looked into your eyes, into your soul, and I saw nothing but darkness!" Dominique raved. "I told your mother her child was no good, I told her she should've smothered you with a pillow right then and there, but she wouldn't listen! And now, look where she is! Dead!"

"Don't you talk about Mum that way!" Selina yelled. "Mum loved me! More than she ever loved you! You abused her! You called her fat, and stupid, and ugly, and lazy all her life, and even when she was a child, you beat her! That's why Grandpa killed himself, because he couldn't stand to watch you do it anymore!"

"Don't you talk to me like that! I did what I did so she wouldn't turn out like you!" Dominique snarled. "But it hardly worked. Your mother came out lazy, and stupid, and pathetic. She needed me, but she never listened. That's how she ended up dead. Because she loved you!"

"You're insane," Selina spat, "You don't scare me anymore! I'm not a kid!"

"You know, every time I look at you, I hate you just a little bit more," Dominique narrowed her eyes at her. "I used to think it was because you're the reason why my only daughter is dead... But that's not it. You really are just that loathsome. You're ugly, and evil. But you're stupid, and lazy, and you'll never amount to anything. You'll never be as good as your mother at anything."

"You hate Mum until it's time to insult me!" Selina huffed. "The only reason you care that she's dead is so you can say I killed her."

"Everything I do, you criticize!" Dominique scowled. "You never appreciate anything I do for you!"

"Because it always comes with a price!" Selina yelled. "You keep me alive, but just so you can remind me of how much I owe you. You feed me, but you call me fat when you know I'm underweight."

"The only reason you could ever be underweight is because of me," Dominque sneered.

Selina's mouth was agape as she stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what she'd just heard.

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?!"

"See here! Everything I do goes unappreciated!" the woman screamed.

"You do nothing that deserves appreciation," Selina murmured spitefully, "If my mother was still alive—"

"She'd say how... wrongly you turned out!" Dominique spat out. "My daughter was the top of her class! She would've hung herself in shame if she knew that she'd given birth to a godforsaken harlot!

"Gran," Selina warned, unable to steady her breathing, "If you bring that up—"

"Excuse me?!" she scoffed. "Who are you to threaten me, you ungrateful child! You disgust me! Running about throwing yourself at every boy who looks your way!"

"I told you, Marcus Flint raped me!" Selina felt herself getting lightheaded.

The room was shaky, and she felt as if she could've fainted, if it weren't for the rage keeping her conscious.

"I don't think it's possible to rape you!" Dominique boomed. "Who could possibly want to rape you, anyways?"

"Shut up!" Selina shouted back at her. "Shut the fuck up!"

"See?!" Dominique screeched uncontrollably. "Ungrateful!"

Selina broke down in tears, no longer able to contain her rage at everything she'd heard. No matter how much she told herself what Dominique said wasn't true, it still pained her to hear them. She grasped at her heart lightly, feeling faint as she felt her chest tightening.

"I've raised and cared for you for eight years, and now you're ready to run off with Igor!" Selina's grandmother screamed.

"Because Igor doesn't make me want to kill myself!"

"You should take your own life!" Dominique yelled. "You'd be doing all of us a favor! Every day you continue to breathe is another day of misery!"

"Fuck you!" Selina sobbed, her entire body shaking as she fought the urge to keel over.

"You don't want to be my family anymore, Selina... So now, I have to do what I have to do to preserve my family," the crazed woman said in a shaky whisper. "If you don't want to be my granddaughter anymore, then why are either of us still here?!" she sobbed hysterically.

None of the things Dominique said made any sort of sense, but Selina knew that that was truly the logic circling around in her head, because it was about to cause her entire home to catch on fire.

"No, Gran, please!" Selina shouted over her, "Listen to me!"

"No! There's no reason either of us should live any longer, we might as well perish here together! As a family!" Dominique screamed. "Selina! Help me light these curtains on fire!"

"No!" Selina screamed, not even knowing what spell to cast to stop this. "Are you mad?!" she sobbed.

"Damn it, Selina, I knew you'd be a disappointment to me until the very end!" she roared. "Incendio!"

The curtains rapidly caught fire, and Selina could hardly remember how to contain it through her tears. She knew that she wasn't allowed to use magic outside of school, but in this case, an exception certainly had to be made.

"Aguamenti!" Selina countered it as efficiently as she could manage under duress.

But she hadn't expected her grandmother, someone very vocal in their stance against Dark magic, to begin conjuring Fiendfyre.

"Pestis Incendium!" she hollered. "Pestis Incendium!"

"Gran!" Selina screamed, ducking as quickly as she could. "You can't just conjure Fiendfyre! Stop it! I'm begging you!"

"The hell I can't!" the woman spat.

"Stop it!" Selina screamed.

"Pestis Incedium!"

The entire room was engulfed by horrid cursed flames, taking on the shapes of serpents, dragons, and Chimaeras, all rampaging the room in a fit of rage. Selina was adept at combative magic and knew how to counter many different forms of attacks, but she didn't know how to fight Fiendfyre. Snape had taught her nothing about that so far.

Selina ducked for cover, trapped in the room as monstrous flames blocked the only entrance to the den. She covered her face and head with her arms, hoping her hastily conjured Shield charm would be enough to protect her. Although it seemed to work, it also seemed to be slowly eating away at Selina's shield.

Selina cried and cried as she tried to protect herself, not even aware of anything beyond herself. In that moment, she didn't even know what was happening to her grandmother, nor did she care. She had begged her grandmother not to conjure the Fiendfyre, not because she couldn't fend off an attack from her, but because she knew even Dominique would have no control over it.

Fiendfyre was known to be incredibly difficult to both conjure and control. Even if one was able to conjure it, being able to control it was not a guarantee. Selina knew that her grandmother would lose control of the spell, and neither of them would be able to stop it from spreading. Selina now knew nothing but fear, cowering in a small circle created by her shield as she prayed for it to be over.

Selina wasn't exactly sure how long she remained huddled in the fetal position surrounded by her shield in Fiendfyre. But she knew that it had been hours, at the very least, before anyone could even notice what was happening in the Romanov manor, because it was so secluded in the mountains. Selina sat huddled in the middle of the room, hugging her knees, sobbing and screaming for an unnatural amount of time.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, she didn't even remember how she had gotten pulled out of the manor, kicking and screaming defensively because she had no idea what was going on. She had to take Igor's word for it when he told her just that she was safe.

Selina awoke in St. Mungo's Hospital, groggy, exhausted, and completely unaware of her surroundings. She sat up in her bed, in a state of total confusion as Igor practically jumped up to help her.

"Hey, hey, hey," he murmured, gently pushing her back down onto the bed, "Selina. You're alright," he promised her, trying to calm her down as she tried to jump out of bed and run off.

She was still in a panic.

"How—" Selina didn't even know what questions to ask. "What happened?" she looked up at him, a dazed look in her eyes.

"It's alright. You're safe now," Igor Romanov assured her, allowing her to adjust. "We got you out of the manor."

"What happened?!" she questioned worriedly. "Where's Freya—"

"Freya's alright, Selina, I have her at home. She's alright," her uncle promised, his voice soft and soothing. "And so is most of the manor, for that matter. The fire was contained to the den."

It had just now occurred to Selina that she had really been caught in a fire.

"What?" she asked, remembering that the Fiendfyre that was conjured was a result of her grandmother's recklessness. "How is that even possible?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Igor admitted, "But... magic like that, it tends to respond to the conjurer's will, you know? And it definitely seemed like the thing your grandmother was focused on destroying was—"

"Me," Selina finished the sentence, a grave look on her face.

Igor nodded, unable to come up with anything to say that would change that fact.

"Yes."

"What happened to her?" Selina asked finally, "Gran."

"She's dead," Igor said calmly, looking her in the eyes as he searched for a reaction.

Selina didn't really have one. Although her eyes watered a bit, it was her tone that revealed why.

"Good," she murmured, realizing that, although she felt no physical scars from the ordeal, she did feel a decent amount of emotional ones.

"The Minister himself saw to it after that that you could live with me," Igor shared the better news with her. "If you still want to, that is."

"Of course I want to," she promised, the light returning to her eyes. "Finally. Something good comes out of this."

Her uncle nodded sadly, trying to figure out what else to say.

"How long was I asleep?" Selina questioned, looking around at the hospital room.

The expression on Igor's face was apologetic, as if he felt guilty about something. Why, Selina didn't understand.

"You, erm... You got home from school on Friday," he explained to her slowly, hoping to ease her into it. "No one found you... until Wednesday," Igor told her.

Selina stopped for a moment, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"You mean, I...?"

"I'm sorry," Igor said with tears in his eyes, his voice cracking slightly, "I was on my way to the manor on Wednesday, and someone told me they heard screaming, inside the manor. I rushed in, and... When I got past the Fiendfyre, I found you on the floor, with the Shield Charm. Screaming. You didn't sleep for days, and you were delirious," he spoke softly.

Tears welled up in Selina's eyes as she listened, refusing to believe what she was hearing.

"I sent an owl to the Ministry, and they dispatched Aurors to deal with the Fiendfyre. Dominique was already dead, and... they dealt with your shield, but they couldn't get you to move.

"You couldn't stop screaming, but your voice was gone. You were in a lot of pain. They gave you a Sleeping Draught to sedate you, and they told me it was best to just keep sedating you until you recovered," Igor retold the story.

Selina thought for a moment, repeating his every word in her mind as she tried to wrap her head around what had happened.

"So, you found me Wednesday," she thought aloud. "What day is it now?"

Igor frowned apologetically. "It's Tuesday."

Selina lightly touched a hand to her throat, just now realizing that it still burned when she spoke.

"Oh."

That was all she had to say, was 'oh'.

"I wrote to your friends the day after we brought you here," Igor said, trying to lighten the mood. "Just to let them know you were okay. Your friends and your boyfriend all wrote to you while you were... stuck in the fire, and they were getting worried when you didn't respond. So I made sure they knew what happened, and that you were okay."

"Oh," Selina tried to absorb the information, "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Igor promised, nodding his head to her bedside table, which was full of various gifts and cards she'd been sent. "Those are from your friends. You can dig in whenever you like."

"Thank you," Selina said again. "For everything."

"I love you, Selina," her uncle told her, fighting back tears, "And I'm so sorry..."

He broke down, quietly crying in front of her as she watched him sadly. She knew how guilty he felt because of what her grandmother had done.

"I never should've left you," he choked out, "I should've never let her take you—"

"I-It's not your fault," Selina croaked out, in spite of her sore throat.

She and Igor sat alone in silence, with him sitting in the chair he'd parked just a few feet away from her bed. His face was buried in his hands, as he tried to console himself, assuring himself that everything was okay. The two of them were interrupted by the door opening, as a Healer entered the room.

"Mr. Romanov?" she spoke softly.

Igor turned to look at her.

"Ah, Miss Romanov, you're awake. How are you feeling?" the young woman asked her.

"I'm... I'm alright," Selina managed, "Considering."

"I hear you," the woman offered sympathetically. "Miss Romanov, the Minister of Magic is here to speak to you. If you're not feeling up to it, I can tell him—"

"That's fine," Selina said politely, "I'm fine."

"Alright," she nodded. "I'll let him in."

"Thank you," Igor nodded to her, watching as she walked away. "You're sure you're feeling up to it?" he asked Selina.

She nodded, unbothered by the idea.

"You don't have to talk to Fudge if you don't want to; I can tell him to fudge off for you," Igor assured her humorously.

"No, it's okay," Selina told him. "I could kind of use the reassurance that I'm not in trouble for using magic outside of school anyways."

Igor frowned sadly, his heart breaking for her.

"Selina, I promise you that was the last thing on anyone's mind," he whispered. "Everyone's just glad you're alright, and that you didn't get hurt..."

"I know," she promised him, trying to reassure him.

"I don't know what I would've done if something happened to you," he said. "I'd feel responsible."

"You don't have to," she reminded him.

"No, I do," he stated. "I know you're not as familiar with it as you should be, but that's what a parent should do. Fuck, almost all your life you've been denied a real parent, and I wasn't there—"

"You were," she told him adamantly, "It's not your fault."

"I'm the adult, Selina," Igor reminded her, "I knew the kind of person who became your guardian, I should've done something. I could've saved you a lot of trauma, and I didn't."

"It's okay," Selina breathed out, looking at him as she sat up in the bed, "I forgive you."

Igor looked at her apologetically, his eyes tearing up as the Minister of Magic interrupted their conversation.

"Hello, Selina," Cornelius Fudge said cheerfully as he entered the room.

She and Igor both glanced over at him, watching him as he entered.

"I do hope you're recovering alright."

"Yes," she responded, "Thank you."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Romanov," the Minister apologized awkwardly, "Would it be alright if Miss Romanov and I could speak in private? It would just be for a moment, you see."

Igor looked to Selina for an answer, a protective aggression in his eyes. "Selina? Is that alright?"

She nodded quickly. "Sure. No problem."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything," he said as he stood, keeping an eye on her as he left the room.

Selina watched as Igor quietly shut the door behind him, sitting up higher to face the Minister.

"How are you feeling, Selina?" Fudge asked pleasantly. "I do hope they're taking good care of you here, I made sure to tell them to treat you with care myself."

"I'm fine, thank you," she nodded. "What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked him.

"Oh, nothing too horrible, don't worry," he assured her. "I just came to let you know that the Auror Office handled the Fiendfyre incident at the manor as quickly as they could. I apologize that they couldn't get to you quicker... The manor is quite far from any other residences, you see..."

"I know," Selina agreed. "I understand."

"It is my understanding that Dominique Morais perished in the fire," Fudge spoke calmly. "So evidently, there is no one to be held responsible."

Selina followed along, not saying much as she listened.

"I'm not in trouble for using magic, am I?" Selina asked him.

The Minister seemed almost appalled by the idea, shaking his head profusely. "No, no, of course not. The Ministry is very sympathetic to your situation, and is aware that you only acted out of necessity, in self defense. Rest assured, there will be absolutely no consequences, and our greatest sympathies are with you," he said, sounding almost rehearsed.

"Thank you, sir," Selina nodded.

"Oh, no need, Selina," Cornelius Fudge waved her off with a smile. "I, and others at the Ministry, were just concerned for your safety."

"Well... Thank you," she replied awkwardly.

Fudge nodded, seeming satisfied. "I just need your confirmation that it was your grandmother, Dominique Morais, who conjured the Fiendfyre, and attempted to murder you."

"Yes," Selina nodded. "That's what happened. My grandmother... We got into an argument, because my uncle was trying to obtain custody of me, and she got angry and set the room on fire."

"Yes, that's what we had figured," Fudge agreed, a regretful grimace on his face. "I believe that Ms. Morais had garnered something of a... reputation for herself, shall we say?"

Selina nodded, not saying a word.

"I think that'll suffice as far as a formal statement is concerned. The Ministey doesn't wish to impose on you any longer," he smiled warmly. "I'll leave you to rest."

Selina nodded again, trying to put the entire ordeal behind her, and failing. "Thank you."

Cornelius Fudge nodded courteously, leaving the room as Igor immediately returned to Selina's side.

"Are you okay?" he asked automatically. "He didn't bother you, did he?"

"No," Selina shook her head, sinking back into her own head, "He was nice. Just checking up on me, and taking a quick statement."

"Good. You need time to recover," Igor said. "What you went through... I understand if you're not feeling okay."

"I... I'm fine," Selina told him, racking her brain. "I don't feel anything yet. I can't."

"Just give yourself time," he offered kindly. "I spoke to the Healers. They know you're awake. They said once they make sure you're alright, you can come home."

"Okay," Selina nodded, glad to no longer be in the hospital.

"Only thing left to figure out is where that actually is," Igor told her, an empathetic expression on his face. "The paperwork went through. I have full custody of you, as your guardian. I also now have the deed to the manor, until you're of age," he explained.

Selina thought for a moment, realizing that after her grandmother died, she inherited both the Morais estate and the Romanov estate, or at least what she inherited from her father.

"We can live wherever you want. We can go back to the manor, or somewhere else, if you don't want to go back there. I'd understand if you didn't," he said gently. "But, you don't have to give me an answer now. We can stay at the Leaky Cauldron, or a hotel, if you'd prefer..."

"Can we...?"

Selina had a lot of conflicting emotions regarding her childhood home, about her mother, and her father, and her grandmother, but really more than anything, she just missed her bedroom.

"Can we just go home?" she asked him. "To the manor?"

Igor smiled, nodding softly. "Of course. Wherever you feel most comfortable, okay? Just let me know if you ever change your mind."

"Okay," she agreed.

"I'm going to leave you alone. I'll go fetch the Healer in a bit. You just rest for a while, okay?"

Selina nodded gratefully, watching as he left. Sighing, she turned to her bedside table to distract herself. The table was full of cards, flowers, and gift baskets from Jasper and her friends, full of food, candy, and other various gifts. She picked up the cards first, worried about what Jasper and her friends might've had to say. She knew they must've been extremely worried, especially considering what had happened to her.

Selina opened a letter from Amana, holding the parchment with care as she realized just how worried her best friend must have been.

'Oh my God, your uncle Igor told me what happened. I'm so, so glad you're alright, I'm so sorry about what happened. I love you so much, and I'm so glad they got you out okay. I hope you're recovering alright, I'll leave you to rest. Don't feel rushed to write me back. Just focus on getting better. I love you, Selina.

- Amana'

Selina sighed, opening the letter that Jasper had written her, already overwhelmed by everyone's emotions.

'Selina-

I'm so sorry I didn't know what happened. I can't believe what your grandmother did. I'm just relieved that you're alright, I don't know what I would do without you. I don't mean to alarm you, I'm just relieved that you're safe, and with Igor. I love you more than I could ever say, and I hope they're taking care of you at St. Mungo's. Write me if you need anything, anything at all. My parents said I can visit whenever you feel up to it.

They told me to write you, and my brothers are also glad to hear you're alright. They all wish you the best, and are glad you're safe. I don't mean to worry you. I love you, Selina, very much, and I'll see you soon.

Love,

Jasper'

Selina sighed sadly as she hugged the piece of parchment close to her chest, relieved that she was alive to reassure him. As typical as it sounded, she knew that the idea of her dying and deserting Jasper and the rest of her friends terrified her.

Selina read through the other letters that were written her by Draco, Blaise, the Malfoy family, and Kelly, and even Pansy and Daphne, all wishing her well after hearing what had happened. Draco and his family in particular seemed horrified at what Dominique had done, offering her their condolences and their help as she assumed they would.

But Selina's heart dropped when she discovered one final letter, addressed to her from Elspeth. Seeing the letter made her blood boil, and so she didn't open it. Instead, she tossed it aside with the rest of her belongings, temporarily refusing to acknowledge its existence as she eventually returned to the Romanov manor with Igor.

Although Selina was perfectly capable of keeping up appearances, nodding and laughing accordingly as she was spoken to. But even as she maintained her composure, as she and Igor silently entered their empty manor, it still haunted Selina that she could've died. Selina had been just good enough with her magic to save herself even when her grandmother had perished at the hand of her own spell, but she knew that one wrong move, and she could've met the same end.

It was all she could think about as she returned home to a house that was, mostly, the same, except for the den, which Igor had made the executive decision to block off until it could be recovered. But even Selina knew that it would be, at best, nearly impossible to recover the room from Fiendfyre damaged.

She sat down on her own bed again after months of being away at school, sitting down with her parchment and quill as she replied to all of the letters she'd received while in St. Mungo's. She replied to Jasper, Amana, Draco, and his parents, as well as Blaise, assuring them all that she was feeling fine and trying to schedule visits with them all over the summer.

She had planned to sit down and write all of these letters, in order to reassure all of her friends and loved ones that she was alright, but she also sat on her bed, deciding to write one final letter.

'Hello. It's Selina.

I'm not sure if you heard about what happened, but there was a fire at my manor, but I'm alright. My grandmother's dead, but she was also the one who conjured the Fiendfyre. I think we have some things to go over; I was fine this time, but next time might not be the same. I hope you're well.

- S.R.'

Selina folded up the parchment, placing it in the envelope as she carefully addressed it, spelling out 'Severus Snape' in perfect penmanship on the back of the envelope.

After her grandmother's owl delivered the letter, Selina sighed as she slumped back down on her bed. She sat in silence for about a full minute, staring at nothing as she tried to quiet the thoughts in her mind. But it seemed there were just too many of them.

Selina defeatedly dug under her bed, peering underneath as she tried to locate what she was looking for. After a while, she reached under her bed, pulling out the half bottle of brandy she'd swiped from the liquor cabinet months ago. She figured her throat was already sore. Selina popped it open as she threw her head back, forcing down the burning warm alcohol as she stifled the sickness that was burning in the depths of her stomach.

Selina knew that Igor was right; she did have a lot of trauma already, and she wasn't anywhere near done living her life, no matter how much she wished she was at times. Somewhere in her mind, Selina knew that she just happened to be one of those people who were dealt an unlucky hand. She was just one of those people who, despite their best efforts, seemed to come up with nothing but problems and pain in life.

She was miserable, but she wasn't necessarily devastated at this point. Selina just knew that, while some people slept easy at night, others went to sleep with a bottle of wine and hoped they didn't wake up in the morning. She sat up in her bed taking small swigs of brandy while staring hard at the walls of her bedroom, until she'd taken enough sips to just sit there and cry as opposed to just sitting there.

The bottle of bourbon was almost empty after a few hours, and Selina just stashed it underneath her bed once again, frowning at the fairly unpleasant taste that lingered in her mouth. She was too lazy and also hated herself too much to just take a mint from the tin on her bedside table, and just cried for the rest of the night.

Usually, when Selina cried, the tears lasted for about an hour at most, but this time, they didn't seem to stop. Fueled by exhaustion and warm brandy that was sure to make her feel sick, Selina laid in her bed crying for the rest of the night, which had seemed normal enough to Igor as he passed by her bedroom before going to bed himself with his nightly glass of wine, unaware that his niece had a heart like his that had to be accompanied by a hard-working liver.

*****

Weeks had passed. Summer grew warmer, even in the mountains. Selina and Igor were about in the same state, both depressed for their own various reasons, many of which were interconnected. The only reason either of them knew where they were was because they hadn't left the manor since they'd arrived in mid June. It was now early July.

Selina Romanov had woken up about an hour after her uncle Igor, at about two o'clock in the afternoon. Igor was sitting slumped in a chair in one of the many rooms in the manor, listening to a record they'd both heard maybe ten times all the way through in the past week. Not sure what else to do, Selina sat beside him, watching him as he lazily crushed a cigarette in the ash tray on the coffee table.

Actually looking at him, she realized that Igor didn't look too great. Although he was eating a healthy amount, he still looked as if his entire body had swollen up from doing nothing but lying in bed and sitting around drinking wine all day. Despite spending most of his days in bed until the afternoon, Igor Romanov didn't get much sleep, which was reflected in the now almost purple bags under his eyes.

His beard had grown even more stubbly than usual, expanding up his cheeks and down his neck. He looked, and smelled, somewhat disgusting, and Selina was sure she probably did as well. She hadn't been sleeping much either, and when she did, it was always after a decent amount of wine that she'd stolen from the wine cellar.

Luckily for Selina, her parents' wine cellar was filled with so much wine that the cellar was comprised of multiple filled rooms. It was stocked well enough to support both her and Igor for at least another year or two. Selina and Igor were both rotting together, something that she couldn't help but romanticize just a little bit. Out of everyone she'd ever met, it was Igor who truly understood her suffering, even without actually understand it.

Selina watched him as he lit up another cigarette with his wand, beginning his chain smoking for the day. Igor smoked so much that, instead of going out for cigarettes every time he ran out, he had been sending a weekly payment of five galleons to a store in town by owl in exchange for weekly deliveries of four packs of cigarettes. He took a long drag from his second cigarette of the day, blankly listening to the song playing off of one of his favorite records.

Selina interrupted his thoughts, although it took him longer than it should have to notice.

"Can I have one?" she asked her uncle.

He just looked at her, no discernible expression on his face.

"How old are you? Fifteen?" he asked.

"No. Fourteen now," she corrected him, not really hoping for any particular outcome.

"Oh, hell," Igor sighed, just giving up and tossing her the pack along with a lighter, "You'll be buying them yourself in a few years anyway, if you aren't already."

Although she understood that his parenting was a bit questionable, Selina also knew that Igor had a point. She sighed as she stuck a cigarette in her mouth, lighting it up as she passed Igor back his things. She paused, taking one long inhale before letting the smoke slowly waft out. Igor watched her in amusement, a vaguely uncle-like expression on his face.

"I take it that wasn't even your first cigarette?" he asked.

"It's my first cigarette with you," she offered, making him laugh a bit.

"Good enough," Igor nodded approvingly, staring forward at nothing in particular.

The two of them sat in silence, just barely living with themselves as they listened to the song that was playing.

"I know you go down to the wine cellar," Igor said after a moment, his tone not particularly accusatory.

Selina studied him silently, confused by his nonchalance towards the subjects.

"You've seen me go down there?" she questioned, knowing she always went down to the wine cellar in the mornings, before her uncle woke up.

"No," he shook his head, pouring himself another glass of wine. "That's not how I know."

"Then, how do you know?" she questioned, not wanting to play a guessing game with him.

"Because," Igor said, "You're my niece."

Selina realized that Igor empathized with her the same way she empathized with him, almost romanticizing the sadness of their situation.

"And, you're not going to stop me?" she asked him.

"Right now? No," he decided, emptily looking down at the glass in his hand. "I'm not a parent. I don't know how to be a parent. As long as you're coping, and you're alive, and you're doing okay in school, I don't have the energy to stop you," he admitted.

Selina nodded silently, knowing how defeated in life Igor felt at the moment.

"You're... not afraid I'm going to ruin my life?" she asked curiously, knowing how most adults should think.

"You're a Romanov," Igor scoffed bitterly, "The work is already done for you."

"How so?" she asked him.

"Well," her father's younger brother sighed slowly. "You get your little drinking habit from me, and your dad. We get it from your grandparents. They got it from my grandfather, and so on," he offered.

"Yeah, my gran made sure I knew that," Selina muttered.

"Yeah, I'm sure she did. Point being, as long as you were gonna grow up around at least one Romanov, you were gonna turn out at least a little bit fucked. All of us are various degrees of fucked, you see," Igor explained, "But not all of us come out with a little bit of genius to go with it. Your father definitely didn't, in most areas. But I did, and so did you. You got a lot of it, in fact."

"I suppose you're right," Selina considered his outlook on things.

"Look. You and me, we're both incredibly fucked up, but we've also got prospects. I built my company up from the ground, and sold out so I could retire before I hit forty," he reasoned. "At that point, no one cared if I had to snort up in the bathroom every morning to do it. Either way, I was a genius."

"So you're just fine with me doing that?" Selina surmised.

"No," Igor said quickly, "If I catch you doing the shit I was doing, I'll kill you. But this? Cigarettes? Wine? It's not great, and I definitely wish you'd gone down a different path, but hey, sometimes, that's just breakfast."

Selina just stared at him as he spoke, unsure of whether this man was a genius or a complete idiot. She decided it was ultimately both, which was something they had in common.

"I was a businessman, you know, Selina. I'm not bragging, I'm just saying... three out of four blokes I did business with did exactly what we're doing right now, just in suits. As long as you're doing this in a proverbial suit every day, you can do it all you like. Am I making sense?" Igor questioned, already a bit intoxicated.

"Only to me," Selina said softly, making him laugh harder than was necessary.

Igor sat there, laughing, as he enjoyed her company, while deep down still knowing that he had nothing better to do with his life even as an adult man. They both smoked their cigarettes in silence, until Selina put hers out on the small ash tray after a while.

"Selina?" her uncle spoke up.

"What?" she asked curiously.

He frowned. "Do you think we need a change of scenery?"

"Like what?" she questioned. "Going out into town?"

"No, no," Igor shook his head, "I mean, long term. Like, a summer holiday," he proposed.

Selina thought about it, realizing she hadn't been away on holiday in years. And now that Igor was her guardian, that was an option.

"Where to?" she wondered.

"Anywhere," he scoffed, "Did you forget I'm rich? Did you forget we're rich?"

"Good point," she thought, actually excited about something for the first time in what felt like months.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked her. "Somewhere new? Somewhere you've been before?"

"Can we go to France?" Selina piped up, the light returning to her eyes for a split second. "To my mum's estate, and to Paris?"

"Why not!" Igor threw his hands up in excitement, "Nothing's stopping us! We could leave right now, if we wanted to."

"Let's save it for July," she suggested, "We could plan it out, and stay out there for while. I mean, we're rich, and it's summer. France is where we're meant to be."

"You're a genius!" Igor exclaimed, laughing gleefully as he contemplated the idea. "Let's do it! We could be gone for a month, and still be back in time for the World Cup! In the meantime, we should get out more! Go to places, do things! You should plan a visit with Jasper, and your friends."

"Maybe I will," Selina nodded, "I suppose I could use some fun."

"Yeah," Igor nodded, listening to the music that was playing for a moment. "Say. You still like The Vampyres?" he inquired.

"Yeah, they're my favorite band! Always have been, because of you," she responded.

"I just remembered. They're gonna be in London this weekend. One of my friends is an Auror, she does security for them. She could get you tickets," Igor thought. "You should invite your friends."

"Are you serious?!" Selina gasped.

"Yeah!"

"Why don't you come?!" she questioned. "You love them."

Her uncle waved her off dismissively. "Oh, I've seen them loads of times. Besides, you could use a night out with friends. It'll do you good."

Selina nodded, sitting with him in silence for a moment as they both realized that, for the first time in months, neither of them really felt the need to drown out the sound of their own internal monologues.

*****

Selina and Amana had both gotten front row tickets to see the famous wizard band, The Vampyres, which included exclusive backstage passes. Selina had left the manor by Portkey with a flask of Firewhisky she'd snuck in with her purse, feeling like her old self again. She'd told Jasper about her plans with Amana, which even made him happy to know that she was beginning to feel like having fun again.

Selina and Amana were standing right in front of the stage of the London venue, jumping around with everyone else to the loud, booming alt rock music that was playing. The band was decked out in black and covered in silver jewelry as always, genuinely looking like what people believed vampires looked like. Selina and Amana were dressed not unlike the band, in dark, rugged tops and skirts, both of them sporting black leather boots and smoky black makeup. But still, they seemed to be dancing and jumping around to songs about murder and sex just fine.

Selina had gone out in her white fur shawl that had belonged to her mother, looking just as rich as she was.

"We're so fucking close!" Amana yelled to Selina over the music as they both sang along to one of their favorite songs.

The concert was almost over, and it was almost time for the two of them to head backstage with the band. They were now standing up onstage, off to the side with all the other people who had VIP tickets. They watched excitedly as the band played their last song of the night, ending with the song everyone in the audience had been waiting for.

"Hey!" Amana yelled, pointing across the stage.

At first Selina thought she was pointing at a band member, but she had actually been pointing at someone in the crowd.

"Is that Draco?!" Amana Tesfaye screamed.

Selina squinted, looking beyond the flashing red lights on the other side of the stage.

"Yeah! It is!" she realized, spotting his pale blond hair and black suit from a mile away.

"And Blaise!" Amana realized. "I didn't know they were coming!"

Selina stared at Draco, trying to see who he was with to see if it was, in fact, Blaise Zabini.

"Oh, yeah!" she nodded. "Wait. Is that...?"

"No!" Amana gasped loudly, still barely audible over the music. "Pansy! Are they talking again?!"

"How should I know!" Selina exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

The two of them waited for the song to be over and the venue to clear out before security allowed everyone onstage with the band. Many people were gathered in various spots onstage, some waiting to get their pictures taken with the band, and some just staring excitedly.

Amana handed the large gold flask back to Selina, who swigged it heavily before attempting to help her find their friends. To her surprise, it was Pansy Parkinson who had waved them over.

"Hey! Selina! Amana! Hey!" the girl cried, her voice somewhat hoarse from screaming all night.

Selina gulped down the last sip of Firewhisky left in the flask before stuffing it back into her purse, figuring she'd need it.

"Hey, Pansy!" Amana exclaimed, as Selina followed her over.

Draco and Blaise were both distracted by the band, watching them as they took photos and signed autographs, leaving only Pansy. Luckily, Amana and Pansy were now on fairly good terms, as far as Pansy goes, just as she and Selina were on decent terms.

In fact, Amana was actually on even better terms with Pansy than Selina was. The two of them were now practically friends.

"How are you?!" Pansy exclaimed, hugging Amana.

"I'm alright, you?" Amana asked.

"Oh, I'm good," Pansy nodded, "Draco invited me out tonight..."

"Did he? That's fun!" Amana replied, slowly burning through her forced pleasantries.

"Hey, Selina!" Pansy exclaimed, wrapping Selina in a surprisingly tight hug.

She seemed to already have a few drinks in her.

"Hi!" Selina blurted out, caught off guard by the embrace.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm good," Selina said emptily, a pleasant smile plastered on her face.

Pansy smiled warmly, seeming genuinely concerned with Selina's wellbeing. "Good! It's so good to see you, I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah... God, that was such an amazing show," Selina quickly changed the subject.

"Yes! I love The Vamps, I just started getting into them more this past year or so."

"Hey, Blaise! Hey, Draco!" Amana greeted both of the boys as they returned.

"Hey, Mana," Blaise gave her a friendly hug.

"Hey. Long time no see," Draco remarked, offering her a side hug.

He turned to Selina, who only raised an eyebrow, grinning as she subtly glanced at Pansy for a split second. Draco waved her off, silently assuring her that he'd inform her later. He walked over to where she stood, giving her a hug as they exchanged greetings.

"How are you? It's been a minute," he said kindly.

"I'm alright," Selina promised.

"Mother's been asking about you a lot. Thanks for the letter you sent her and my father, by the way."

"Of course," she nodded, "That was really nice of them to write to me."

"Yeah, they love you," Draco nodded, looking around the stage. "Have you met the band?"

"No," Selina shook her head, "I've only been to one of their shows."

"Aw, Blaise knows the band!" Draco told her. "He can get us up there. You two wanna come with us?" he looked between her and Amana.

"Fuck yeah!" Amana exclaimed, looking to Selina, who nodded in agreement.

They all followed Blaise toward where the band was standing. Most of the fans who had come to the stage for photos and autographs had been sent away by security, so the people remaining were mostly other VIP's. Blaise was waving to the band, until he eventually caught the attention of La Rue, the band's bassist.

Selina and Amana both gasped excitedly, realizing that Blaise knew her. She looked exactly as she did on the cover of various magazines, with her long, black hair and bangs, and her various tiny tattoos scattered all over her pale arms. She had her eyebrow and lip pierced, and didn't wear much makeup apart from her smoky black eyelids.

"Oi! Zabini, right!" the young woman beamed, speaking in a noticeable Cockney accent.

"Yeah, that's right!" Blaise nodded with a grin. "These are my friends."

He turned to address the group, as Anastasia clapped him on the back in a friendly manner.

"My mother knows their manager. We had the band over for a party a while ago," Blaise told them.

"Yeah, I love this kid!" Chloé La Rue wrapped an arm around him playfully, "Pours the best shots, he does!"

"My mother's been forcing me to serve party guests since I was six," Blaise explained.

"So, what are your names?!" La Rue asked cheerfully, already a bit drunk ever since she got onstage.

"This is Draco, Pansy, Amana, and Selina," he pointed.

"Bloody hell," the bassist blurted out, stopping as she looked at Amana and Selina, "You two look like models. Are you models?" she questioned, realizing that she was, in fact, intoxicated.

"No," Amana laughed, "We're still in school."

"Fuck, are you really?!" La Rue laughed. "How old are you lot? Seventeen?"

No one said a word.

"Ah, you're all seventeen tonight!" the young woman jeered, brandishing a cup of something that only looked like water. "Who wants to meet the band?!"

Everyone seemed to be on the same page as she nodded approvingly.

"Excellent! Come on," she led them over to where the rest of the band was. "I'm La Rue, by the way, I play bass."

"As if we didn't already know," Pansy whispered, as everyone else seemed to agree.

Selina and the others instantly knew who everyone was just by looking at them. Apart from La Rue, there was Johnny Fane, on lead vocals and lead guitar, Belladonna on lead vocals, Wolfgang Blackwell also on bass, and Saber Voltaire on drums. All of them looked just like rock stars, and Amana felt as if she'd died and gone to heaven.

"Guys, these are my mates, Johnny, Saber, and Belladonna," La Rue said humbly, not assuming that any of them knew who they were at all. "Boys!" she wrangled the rest of her band mates, despite one of them also being female.

Draco was just excited as the rest of his friends to meet the members of his favorite band, although he tried his best to hide it. But even Selina couldn't deny that she was a bit starstruck. After all, The Vampyres we're one of the most popular alt rock bands in the world.

"Look at Belladonna," Selina whispered to her best friend, "She's beautiful."

Amana nodded quickly in agreement, admiring the beautiful, raven-haired woman with enchanting ocean blue eyes.

"This is... lemme think, sorry ladies and gets, lots of drugs in me system... Blaise, Draco, Pansy, Selina, and Amana, is that right?" she recited in a random order.

Everyone nodded, confirming that she was correct.

"Great! These arseholes are partying with us, yeah?!" La Rue asked them.

Blaise nodded as the rest of the group agreed automatically. They all followed the band backstage, into a room covered up to the ceiling with framed posters from various world famous shows that had also taken place at the venue. The room had a grungy feel, with random people and random alcohol scattered all over.

It was a free-for-all; no one in particular was in charge, meaning anything goes. The actual band members ended up seated on the leather couches, with the exception of Wolfgang Blackwell, who was in a corner surrounded by people as he engaged in a mixture of yelling and smashing glass bottles on the ground, something he also often did onstage.

Selina and Amana stifled their giggles as they and their friends sat on the couches with the band. Pansy was seated on Draco's lap, both to save room for the other people seated on the couches, and to signify that she was attending the party with him. Amana's eyes widened as Selina ended up seated next to Belladonna, the band's female lead singer, who was very down-to-earth and offered the girls German beers, which they all accepted. The boys poured Firewhisky for themselves, sipping it as they sat with the band.

Selina could hardly believe it as Belladonna, one of her favorite singers of all time, turned her attention to her.

"Bloody hell," Belladonna murmured. "We could be sisters."

Amana Tesfaye gasped silently as Selina attempted to remain cool, smiling graciously.

"Really? Because you really are beautiful," she complimented the singer.

"Ah, I appreciate that very much," Bella chuckled in her deeper, contralto voice. "But you really are beautiful. Are you part Veela?" she asked, lowering her voice so that no one else could hear.

"Erm, yeah," Selina nodded, "But it's distant, you can tell?"

"Oh yeah," she responded without hesitation. "I'm part, too."

"Really? I thought that was just a rumor," Selina remarked in surprise:

"Yeah, I am," Bella nodded. "My great-great-great grandmother, or something, was a quarter."

"Wow. I can see it," Selina nodded, looking into her blue eyes.

"Oi, can I bum a cigarette?" Amana asked her friend.

Selina nodded, pulling out the pack in her purse as she took one out for each of them. Although she easily could've, she never snuck cigarettes into Hogwarts, so she'd had the same pack in her room since she'd first gotten it the summer before.

"Are those King's?" Bella pointed in surprise.

"Yeah," Selina chuckled nervously, "You want one?"

"Yeah, I'll take one!" Bella nodded, "Thanks! Fuck. I don't meet a lot of people who smoke King's."

"They're the best!" Amana cried, lighting her cigarette after Selina.

The both of them were in complete shock, unable to believe that they'd had the opportunity to share a cigarette with one of the best female singers in the world.

"Oi," Belladonna murmured, gesturing with her finger for the girls to listen closely, "You girls are all underage, right?"

"Yeah," Amana said quietly, worried.

"Okay. Just stick close to us," the young woman murmured, "And while you're at it, make sure Saber knows you're underage. He's a bit slow, and a hopeless romantic. Not a good combination."

"Really?" Amana's ears practically perked up, as Selina smacked her across the stomach.

"You lot know how you're getting home, right, right?" Bella added.

"Yeah," Selina assured her, "Those three have a Portkey, and so do we. She's spending the night at my place," she said, referring to Amana."

"Alright, good," the young woman nodded, "Just making sure, you know? Fucked up shit happens to girls at shows. I should know," she muttered.

Selina and Amana both nodded understandingly.

"Cheers to that," Selina held up her beer as the other girls followed suit.

"Alright. Now, who's ready to get fucked up?" Belladonna asked, pausing as she considered who she was speaking to. "...Within reason, of course?"

With that being said, the group of friends enjoyed their night partying with The Vampyres and some of the other people backstage that the band was close to. The Vampyres were quite an interesting-looking group of people.

Johnny Fane, one of the lead singers, had short, cropped black hair and tattoos all over his arms, hands, and neck. He looked exactly like the frontman of a band. Out of everyone, he had the most neutral personality, his only interests being beer, various drugs, and his music, albeit not in an insufferable way.

His counterpart Belladonna was tall and athletic, with a beautiful, ethereal quality to her, with her long black hair, blue eyes, and perfect creamy skin. She was very different from La Rue, the only other girl in the band; black hair was the only thing they had in common. Bella was a very calm and serene person, also reflected in her speaking voice, which gave her an air of mystery and allure. She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the alt rock genre, although that didn't seem to be something she concerned herself with.

La Rue was closer to the average height, with bangs and eyes so dark no one could ever discern her irises from her pupils. She was very thin, her drug use much more apparent than in Bella. She wasn't necessarily wild, but she certainly had an edge to her. Apart from Wolfgang, she was one of the band members more likely to be involved in a brawl, even if it was onstage, and during a performance. Despite being thin and almost sickly, La Rue was fairly muscular, resembling Wolfgang in that respect.

Wolfgang Blackwell was tall and somewhat bulky. He looked the most like an authentic rock star, with long dark hair and various tattoos that were all somewhat sloppy. He had an insane look in his eyes, and was almost feral-looking. Wolfgang looked like he chewed on broken glass, and he probably did, too. He was aptly named, considering that he did look almost animalistic in his appearance.

Saber Voltaire was much more soft-looking than the rest of the band, although he still had an edge to him. He was tall and lean, the only other person in the band taller than him being Wolfgang. He was about six feet tall, with longer, dirty blond hair and cool blue eyes. He was thin to the point of appearing to be unhealthy, and looked like a walking cigarette. Amana had had a childish crush on him ever since she was ten, and even Selina had to admit that he had an appeal. Saber was quiet, and didn't speak too much. He also constantly looked as if he were about to cry unless he had a cigarette in his mouth, which actually seemed to work for him.

Amana and Selina had the time of their lives sitting around with the members of one of their favorite bands. Countless pictures were taken of them all with the band, some of which would eventually end up in magazines. But Selina and Amana already garnered attention at the party, many of the male partygoers being drawn to them as they searched for beautiful girls.

Selina was glad that they both stayed glued to the band, particularly La Rue and Belladonna. As the night went on, they all drank a small amount with the band, having fun but remaining in control of all their faculties just in case. Eventually, photos of all of them jumping on couches with the band and screaming song lyrics were developed.

There were also plenty of pictures taken of Draco and Blaise both just a little bit genuinely drunk. They all left with all sorts of pictures, of Selina, Amana, and Pansy, or pictures of Selina and Amana, or Selina and Blaise, all laughing and smiling with their arms draped around one another lazily. Later on, Selina found pictures of her work all of her friends, including a picture of her, Draco, and Pansy, all smiling wide for the camera and looking like stars next to the band.

Her favorites were, of course, the pictures of her and her friends smiling with the band, as well as a photo of her sitting on Amana's lap next to Draco Malfoy, who for some reason ended up with both Pansy and Blaise on his lap, and was smiling as he wrapped his arms around both of them like little children. It was a fun night, a genuinely memorable night full of smiles and laughter, something Selina had completely forgotten about and almost given up on for the moment.

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