#and the fact that with the way this chapter is it makes more sense to approach it this way

[ambrosiagourmet]

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #marcille donato #laios touden #falin touden #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis #for anyone keeping track I'm on pdt so it IS still the same day that I said I'd post it on #PUT DOWN THE TOMATOES

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Five

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: You make the most unlikely of friends.

Warnings: Angst.

“I think you should talk to Elain.”

You scoffed as you looked up from the pages of your book, brows raised and eyes rolling as you turned your once focused gaze to the anticipatory stare of your friend, “Good morning to you too, Az. I’m swell, thank you for asking.”

Hazel eyes narrowing at your remark, a sound of disbelief fell from Azriel’s lips as your attention returned to the book between your hands. Disgruntled by his piercing gaze, you stubbornly moved the object to block him from your view. Your action drawing a groan of contention from the shadowsinger as he argued, “Oh come on sweetheart, I just got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, alright?”

Azriel sighed lowly as he realized you weren’t going to budge, lips downturned as his hands came to rest on either arm of the chair you were curled up in. “Angel?” he asked tentatively, leaning forwards until the tip of his nose brushed against the spine of your book, a teasing finger coming to push the novel down until his amused gaze met your own formidable glare. The heated breath of his mirthful chuckle kissing your cheeks as he smirked, “How’s my best friend doing on this lovely day?”

You snorted at his question, eyes unforgiving as you answered flatly, “I’m telling Cassian that you called me your best friend.”

The shadowsinger chuckled at your words, shrugging his shoulders in dismissal as he added, "Come on angel. If you don't tell me how your day is, I guess I'm just going to have to tell Rhys that it was you who knocked over the entire shelf of his expensive wines last solstice."

You slammed your book shut, glaring daggers at the male as you seethed, "You wouldn't dare! You swore you would never tell!"

"You're right, and I always make good on my promises. But it's nice to see your beautiful face again." Azriel grinned devilishly, sliding the book from your lap before you could utilize it as a weapon, "Now, how's my angel doing today?"

You huffed, unable to stop the small smile from pulling at your lips at the male's antics, "Slightly annoyed that I still fall for your same tricks after five hundred years of friendship."

"But you still love me all the same," Azriel grinned. Your eyes shied from his playful gaze as he spoke, cheeks turning pale as you wondered if Azriel knew just how truthful his statement was. Yet the male failed to notice your change in demeanor, rather, he proceeded once more with tentatively approaching the topic of his arrival, "So much so that you'd talk to Elain for me?"

You slumped into your chair, resisting the urge to groan in frustration at your friend's proposal, "Az, I have never once spoken to Elain. Don't you think she'd be suspicious if I started trying to be her friend out of the blue?"

"But isn't that what wingmen -" Azriel shrank under your unimpressed stare, nervously laughing as he corrected himself, " - sorry - wingwomen do?"

Your mouth parted wordlessly, mind searching for any possible excuse as to why you talking to Elain for him would be a bad idea. But it was too late, Azriel had sensed your reluctance. His hand coming to meet your own as he pleaded his case, "There is not a single person in Prythian you could talk to who wouldn't fall for your charm. Look . . . It'll be easy. I just think I may have more of a chance with her if you shared some things about me that you think she may like to hear."

"What, like the fact that you still sleep with the stuffed bat I gave you centuries ago?" you teased as payback for his earlier comment, taking pleasure in the way Azriel's smile dropped in horror. The male's eyes blowing wide in alarm as he stammered a pitiful response, "How did you -? . . . I- I don't sleep with him anymore!"

"Him?" you laughed at Azriel’s pitiful attempt of a burning glare, throwing your head back in glee at the sight. Proud that you were possibly the only person alive who could be on the receiving end of one of the shadowsinger's threatening stares and live to tell the tale.

"You're hilarious, truly" Azriel replied flatly, “It’s nice to see how much you care about my love life”. The shadowsinger, unamused by your incessant giggling, permissed a grave expression to cross his face as he continued to press the matter, "Please. I really need her to like me, and if that means that I need to ask my guardian angel to work her magic . . ."

Your heart clenched at his words, the laughter dying in your throat as your eyes fell from his own pleading ones to the hands at your lap. Stare cold and broken as you realized Rhysand had been wrong the other day. You could never say no. Not to Azriel.

You were a victim of your own heart's desire, cursed with the unfortunate luck of only ever being able to answer the male with words he so longed to hear. Azriel the commander and executioner of your love as your reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about stopping yourself, "Of course I'll speak to her, Az. That's what friends do, right?"

"And what a great friend you are" he grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing at your acceptance, "I'll pay you back for this, I promise. We'll go to that restaurant you like, the one down by the Rainbow."

"Yeah. . .” Azriel was gone before you could even finish your sentence, his shadows lingering for a moment before they ultimately decided on following their master, “That sounds nice. . ."

You quietly sigh, vacant eyes never straying from your lap as you move your shaky hands to cling onto the arms of the chair, gripping the velvet upholstery in an effort to stop your uncontrollable trembling.

Terrified at the prospect of facing the female who was in every way your superior, you exhaled deeply. Rubbing at the growing ache in your temples as you readied yourself to look into the eyes of the cauldron-blessed fae who had stolen Azriel’s heart.

It didn't take long to find her.

The majority of Elain’s days were typically spent within the walls of her garden, the timid female preferring to pass her time with the company of flowers rather than that of other fae.

Perhaps you could tell yourself that was why the two of you had never spoken. That her quiet, reserved nature was the reason for the silence between you. That it had absolutely nothing to do with the shadowsinger who had managed to capture both of your affections.

If that were the case, perhaps you would have allowed yourself to have visited her garden sooner. Sparing the time to come and admire the beautifully blooming flowers, taking the opportunity to bask in the soothing tranquility of your surroundings. You had to admit it was impressive, the radiant life that Elain had managed to bring to the garden that the workers have otherwise been unable to do so.

But you also had to admit that you have been selfish, and unfairly so. Unable to help but wonder if your reason for visiting Elain today was a punishment from the gods, a penalty for having not been more welcoming to the female upon her arrival to the Night Court.

It didn't take long for Elain to notice your presence in her garden, the sound of your approaching footsteps being enough to pull the female's attention from the flowers she was tending to. Her brow creased in confusion as she saw exactly who it was walking towards her.

"Uh, hello Elain," you awkwardly began, smile tight as you mentally cursed yourself for your uncomfortable demeanor, "I saw you through the window and I um . . . I thought you may appreciate a tea."

Elain's eyes dropped to the cup held between your shaky hands, mouth slightly parting in question at your unusually kind gesture, "Oh . . . "

Sighing, you closed the distance between you, placing the cup on the ground before opting to sit beside the female. "It was Azriel's idea" you confessed, tentatively glancing in Elain's direction, noting how her ears pricked at the mention of your friend's name, "He thought it might be a nice idea for you to have someone to talk to. . . The tea was all me though."

"That's nice of him" Elain allowed a soft smile to grace her lips, moving to pick up the cup before she nervously added, "and you, thank you for the tea."

"Yeah, he's always watching out for the people he cares about" you winced at your words, eyes closing in shame as you were aware of just how terribly this conversation was going. Moving your hand to pick at the hem of your dress as you resisted the urge to flee in embarrassment.

But if Elain were bothered by your uneasy company she didn't show, moving to pick up her trowel once more as she resumed her gardening, her words light as she replied, "I know I'm considerably younger than all you fae, but that doesn't make me stupid. I know why you're here."

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing as you found yourself unable to stop the rising wave of panic which had begun to wash over you, nervous eyes flickering over the poised female as you breathlessly asked, "What?"

"I know love when I see it" Elain answered, briefly turning from her task so her brown eyes could meet your own, "That's why Azriel sent you to talk to me wasn't it? Because he thinks he loves me."

"You know?" you asked at a higher octave than deemed normal, unable to help the surprised laugh which escaped your lips, leaning back onto your hands as you allowed the information to soak in. Mouth dropped in disbelief as you gathered your thoughts, "You'd certainly make for a better spymaster than him."

"It doesn't exactly take a spymaster to see it" Elain smirked slightly, seemingly pleased by your astonished reaction. Gesturing to a spare trowel she continued, "Come on, if we're going to talk you may as well be helping me."

A feeling of satisfied contentment washed over you as the two of you worked in a comfortable silence. It wasn't hard to understand why Elain loved to spend all of her time here, the quiet calm of the garden was a suitable place to sieve through the questions which had risen at her revelation.

Wondering exactly where it was you were supposed to begin, you tentatively asked, "So why haven't you told him that you know?" Your face immediately turning pale as your tumultuous thoughts had already answered for her, heart racing as you voiced the glaring question on your mind, "Unless you don't love him back?"

It had always been a possibility that Elain didn't share the same feelings for Azriel as he did for her. You would be lying if you said you hadn't hoped for it. Having already pondered the possibility that if the shadowsinger were to be rejected, his lovesick eyes may then turn to you. You almost scoffed at how pathetic the idea was.

And yet, inexplicably, a sinking feeling had risen in your chest. Heart already breaking at the mere thought of how Azriel would react to the terrible news that Elain didn't like him back.

It took several moments for the female to reply, mind lost to her own thoughts as she searched for an appropriate answer. "Love him?" Elain pondered, gaze distant as she stared at a budding flower before her, "No. But I could grow to."

The soft sigh which escaped from Elain's lips told you she had more to say, her eyes thinly veiled by a white mist as she began to explain her reasoning, “I was engaged once - if you'd believe it - but then the war happened, and Hybern, and then by some cruel trick of fate the cauldron turned me into the one thing that my fiancé had always been taught to hate."

You failed to find an answer worthy of speaking, sympathy brewing in your chest at the female's admission that her transition has been more than difficult. Guilty, that between your bitterness and jealousy, you hadn't stopped to think about exactly what it was Elain was going through. 

"I never got a choice, not when I got shoved into the cauldron and not when I got brought here. . . So I don't really know what it is I want with my life anymore. I'm not even sure I know who I am. But I do know Azriel makes me happy," Elain's words drew you from your spiraling shame, a wistful smile on the young fae's face as she spoke about the male, "When I'm with him I don't have to be who I used to be. . . He gives me the room to figure out who I am in this new life I have been given."

"You make him happy too, Elain" you answered with a sad smile, swallowing your pain as you tried to blink away your rising tears, "He really does think the world of you."

It didn’t take long for you to realize you had allowed your emotions to get the better of you, your face blanching as shock crossed Elain's features. Her eyes full of sorrow as she turned her gaze to you, "You love him?" 

"And he loves you."

You did your best to shrug away the females sympathetic stare as you moved to continue gardening, yet Elain's pitiful eyes remained on you, lips downturned as she queried, "How long?"

You laughed at the answer to her question, too embarrassed to reveal to Elain that you had wasted centuries pining after a male who would never love you back, "Let's just say it's been long enough for me to know it's time to move on." 

Elain hummed in quiet understanding, taking a moment to think before her head tilted in question, "And have you?”

"Have I what?"

"Moved on?" 

There was no malice in Elain Acheron's voice, not as each question she asked was delivered with such empathy. Rather, you found yourself blushing at her curious nature, a shy smile gracing your features as you found yourself revealing, "I'm getting there, one day at a time. . . I may have met someone the other day."

Elain squealed in excitement, dropping her trowel as she moved her body to face yours, eagerly outstretching her hands to meet your own as she laced them together and begged, "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell" you reply honestly, ears burning at the thought of the male you had met the other day, "We've only met once, at the bakery in Velaris. He spilt his coffee all over me and then we just got talking. I don't know. . . It just felt so natural, for once in my life I didn't find myself thinking of . . . well . . . Az. He asked to meet me again but -"

"Oh you have to!" Elain cried, an encouraging grin crossing her face as she urged you to take the step. Her searching eyes not failing to miss the hesitance in your own;, hands squeezing yours as she offered her advice, “Moving on isn’t meant to be easy. But the regret you’ll feel if you miss this chance will hurt more. . . Besides you never know, this male might surprise you, it already sounds like he’s swept you off your feet.”

You smiled at Elain, the thought of males far from your mind as you found yourself unable to think of anything other than how utterly and completely wrong you had been about her. Brows knitted together in regret, you expressed this to the female, “You know, you’re not quite the person I expected you to be Elain Archeron.”

The fae's eyes twinkled in response, a matching smile upon her lips as she replied, “No, neither are you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: Sorry for the wait for this part 🥲 my uni kind of killed me off for a moment. And thank you to @sarawritestories who helped me iron this part out because my brain is fried at the moment.

Taglist:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @lady-of-tearshed @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel imagine

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 3

Third chapter of the Cowboy!Nikto series. Nikto has some emotions and has no idea what they mean or how to deal with them. Original Cowboy concept based on the AU by @ghouljams

A/N: Finally got enough time to work on this chapter after weeks and weeks of hectic stress with work and university. Thank you to all of those still following along with the story, I'll hopefully have the next part out soon. Fun fact: The story of a horse getting hurt running into a fence because they were so excited to see someone is from one of the silly yearlings at uni lol.

Warnings: Minor medical proceedures, Nikto getting a little jealous.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

First | Previous | Next

Nikto can’t help wondering if there’s anything that can ruin your seemingly perpetual good mood. Even with your body dripping with sweat and elbow deep inside of a cow, you’re still somehow grinning brightly at the farmer standing beside you. Doing a part of your job that some would consider... unpleasant at best, you’re able to act as if it’s the most exciting thing you’ve ever done.  

One of the other farm hands, a man about your age, if a year or two older, is acting a little too interested in what you’re doing, however, and Nikto’s jaw is aching with how hard he’s grinding his teeth together. They make a soft groaning sound as they suffer under the pressure he’s subjecting them to, but unfortunately, it’s the only thing keeping him from snapping at “Darren” when the man crowds close to you with what he must think is a suave grin.  

“Alright, I can feel the cervix now,” you hum, and he can see the way your arm twists slightly within the animal, “it’s pretty easy to manoeuvre it around.” You frown to yourself, seemingly oblivious to the way that annoying brat leans a little closer, “the reproductive tract isn’t very heavy.” 

“And what’s that mean, darlin’?” Darren asks, and Nikto can’t decide what he hates more, the tone the other man is using to address you, or the way he thinks it’s okay to place a hand on your shoulder. The gelding underneath Nikto snorts, shifting uncertainly as he likely senses the tension brewing.  

“Oh,” you blink at Darren, as if only just noticing him for the first time, “normally you wouldn’t be able to move the cervix around so easily if she was carrying a calf, I’d be able to feel at least a little weight to it.” You reach a little further into the cow, taking a few moments longer before adding, “I can also feel the horns of her uterus, and there’s no fluid I can feel inside them.”  

Darren is nodding, but his gaze is far from focused on the animal or what you’re actually saying to him.  

You pull you hand slowly from the cow, removing the palpation glove and dropping it into the bin beside the cattle crush. “Looks like this girl’s open, I’m afraid,” you say, grabbing the can of cattle paint and spraying a bright green streak across the animal’s tail, “and that’s the last of the girls done.”  

Pulling the release lever, the heifer is let out of the crush and into the holding pen with the rest of the females you’ve checked for pregnancies. While most of them have little blue marks to indicate a successful insemination, a few of the younger ones weren’t lucky enough to take this time around.  

Darren looks as though he’s about to say something further (more than likely something stupid and obnoxious), but before he can do anything more than puff up his chest, Mr. Roberts is snapping at him.  

“Darren! Get your ass into the paddock, boy!” The old man has a scowl on his face that would have recruits shaking in their boots and a voice with a harsh snarl to it from years of smoking. “The hell do I bother paying you for?” he grumbles, watching as the younger man near enough trips over himself in his haste to get back to work.  

Nikto can’t help admiring the man for his no nonsense approach to his work. He’s friendly enough toward those who work for him, and when Nikto was looking for employment, took him on board with no questions asked. The elderly cowboy has made it clear that he could care less about where someone comes from, only that they can do an honest day’s hard work.  

“Well, thank you for giving us a hand with the ladies,” the old man’s tone softens drastically, and he offers you a firm handshake, “I know those big business farms have all that fancy new technology and blood tests to make checking for calves easier, but I much prefer the old method.”  

Although he would never admit it aloud, it’s rather… sweet, the way you beam at Mr. Roberts and nod along to his words. “Of course! A blood test would be useful for determining how long the baby’s been gestating for, but there’s nothing wrong with the palpation method to find out if they’re carrying anything.” 

Roberts seems pleased by your response, offering you an elusive smile, before giving you one final nod, “I’ll see you around town in a few days, and I’ll drop your payment off at the clinic.”  

There are a few final pleasantries exchanged, all of which Nikto ignores. He was supposed to be getting the horse tacked down and set out for the day. Getting distracted by you while doing your job was just an unfortunate happenstance. He urges the gelding onward with a gentle tap to the animal’s side, leaving you to the business of packing up all of your tools in peace.  

He dismounts once reaching the stable, giving the horse a firm pat on the shoulder before leading him into one of the nearest stalls. He can’t know for certain if anyone else will need Murphy before the end of the day, seeing as the horse belongs to Roberts, but the least he can do is ensure he’s comfortable until he’s turned out for the end of the day.  

While “Murphy” isn’t exactly a name that Nikto would have chosen for a horse, given it’s a little too human for his own tastes, apparently, the gelding was named after Murphy’s Law, seeing as the poor animal seems to constantly be getting into trouble. Anything that could possibly go wrong for him can and will. He’s only just recovered from a nasty gash he’d received to the front of his chest after getting a little too excited to see Nikto coming to greet him and crashing directly into a barbed wire fence.  

Nikto starts untacking Murphy, starting with the bridle and moving his way backwards. He gives the gelding a quick brushing down and picks out his hooves to ensure there’s no stones or injuries that’ve gone unnoticed. He leaves Murphy to his dinner while he works on cleaning off the bit of the bridle and applying oil where the leather has begun to dry out. It’s a difficult job with only one properly functioning arm, but he’s not about to ask for any assistance with such a mundane chore.  

When he gets back, however, he’s startled to find you standing there, stroking Murphy’s mane while the horse happily munches on a mouthful of hay. You’re cooing at the animal happily, giggling when Murphy starts trying to nibble at your shirt once running out of food.  

You turn and offer him a smile, face still a little warm from the sun outside and with several strands of your hair poking out in odd directions. He finds that the look suits you, oddly enough.  

It’s only when you call his name that he realises that you’ve been trying to speak to him and he’s just been there staring at your face like a complete idiot. He shifts his grip on the halter he’s holding and clears his throat. “What do you need?” He settles on eventually, deciding that’s the least offensive way of telling you he hasn’t heard a word spoken to him.  

Thankfully, you don’t seem to be too upset by it. “I was just asking how poor Murphy is doing, I know he had a nasty scratch recently,” you’re looking at Nikto, but your words are said in the same, high-pitched coo you tend to use whenever you’re talking to Sputnik, accompanied by a rather overdramatic frown.  

He rolls his eyes at you, but finds he isn’t entirely annoyed by the antics. “Fine. His wound has healed well,” he says while reaching over to try and guide Murphy’s head a little closer. He may not be a trained veterinarian, but Nikto has seen plenty enough injuries in his life to be able to tell when one isn’t healing well. Murphy, of course, decides not to cooperate, instead trying to press the side of his fluffy face up against you.  

Getting the halter over the horse’s head with one hand is rather awkward, especially with the way the animal insists on moving about. You reach out, and he’s about to snap at you for trying to do it for him. He’s had enough of people trying to treat him like an infant recently, as though he’s not a dangerous killer.  It was suffocating enough when it was hospital staff and physiotherapists, but even a civilian thinking he’s too incapable to perform such a simple task? 

But then, you simply grab the buckle in one hand and hold it in position for him to secure himself.  

It would be far faster and more efficient for you to take the halter and do it yourself, yet you stand patiently without comment, and wait as he pulls the strap over the horse’s head and fastens the catch in place. He’s not sure why the thought of you specifically treating him like a weak child had him prepared to lash out quite so aggressively, especially when he’s brushed off similar actions by other people with only a few choice words and a particularly icy glare.  

You return to eagerly cooing at the horse before he can force himself to offer any kind of thanks, and he quickly pushes down the uncomfortable tangle of emotions trying to crawl their way up from his stomach.  

“Are you finished for the day?” You ask after a few moments of silence. He gives you a nod and you’re quick to ask, “how’s your girl been holding up?”  

“Our girl?” he asks slowly, forehead scrunching up. Do you think he has a partner or some kind? Why would you think there’s a girl in his life? Has he done something to make you think he’s married or dating someone?  

“Sputnik,” you clarify, and his face must do something odd because you snort at his reaction. “Why, do you have another girl?” 

Nikto can’t help automatically scoffing at the question, shaking his head at the very thought, “нет, we have no one.” He sees your eyebrows raise slightly, as if surprised by that, but you quickly school your expression back into its normal, carefree smile.  

Your expression quickly turns into something playful, however, as you add, “really? A big, handsome man like you?” He’s not sure how genuine your teasing tone is, “surely you’ve got the ladies lining up.” You have this way of joking around with him and asking questions in a way that doesn’t make him want to immediately tell you to ‘fuck off’. It’s a strange feeling, and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.  

“You are just crazy,” he counters, going to cross his arms over his chest, only to realise he can’t and instead settling for just letting them rest in place. He sees your eyes travel down the length of his damaged arm, stopping at where it abruptly ends. You don't comment on it, however, and he’s annoyed by how glad he is that you don’t. You likely didn’t even notice his injury until now, given he’s been wearing his prosthetic covered by long-sleeved clothes and gloves every other time you’ve met.  

“Wow, so rude,” you grin, trying to playfully shove his shoulder, only to pout when he’s entirely unmoved by the action. He’s been called rude many times in his life, but this is the first time he’s ever found himself pleased to hear it from someone.  

The sound of the stable door opening has you pulling your attention away from him and toward Roberts, who has just entered. You give Murphy a quick pet to the side of the neck, and Nikto a final grin, offering up a brief, “I’ll see you around.” 

Roberts waves as you leave the stables, waiting for the large door to close before he turns to look at Nikto, one of his bushy eyebrows raised. “So, when’re you gonna marry that lovely girl?” The old man asks, leaning against the stall door with an upward twitch of his lips.  

Nikto near enough chokes on thin air, whirling around on the cowboy with a startled, “что?”  

The old man just sighs heavily, shaking his head, “just make sure you do it soon, yeah? We need another vet living out here on a permanent basis,” he ploughs on, “she already knows the area and she’s a lovely young lady.”  

As quickly as he arrived, Roberts wanders off again, heading back to work and leaving Nikto standing in the middle of the horse stall. He takes a long moment, just staring at where the old man had been a few moments ago while his brain slowly processes everything. Surely he wasn’t being serious, right?

-

Translations

“да,” - “Yes” 

"что?” - "What?"

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #nikto x reader #call of duty nikto #cowboy au #fanfic

[dudeitiskarev]

Maybe Someday | Ch. 5

A Spencer Reid mini-series

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Chapter summary: reader and Spencer become close friends. Very close friends.

Tags/warnings: season 4 spoilers; drunk reader; mentions of food and making out with a stranger.

Word count: 3k

Author's note: I've been doing some adjustments and now there will be 10 chapters + epilogue. It's the same story, I just decided some scenes were better together in one chapter.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Spencer became a regular at the café. 

Any chance he had, he found a way to grab something at ‘Moramor’. If he had enough time on his hands, he’d sit at a table for one with a cup of coffee,  a book, and would sit there until duty called. 

You’d watch him from afar and check on him if he needed anything else, like any other customer. And when he didn’t have the time, he managed to give you a phone call at the end of the day to check on you. 

Inevitably, Spencer became a regular in your life, too.

And it terrified you.  

“I think he’s in love with you.”

It wasn’t the first time Steve said that. He was your work best friend, and even though he was a kid—a freshman in college—he was wise, and always managed to say the right thing. He reminded you a lot of your brother. 

“He’s not,” you dryly answered, rolling your eyes.

Steve passed behind you to grab the caramel syrup and poked your ribs.

“He is not!” You playfully smacked his arm with a cloth. “He’s my friend. And a really good one.”

“He’s always glancing this way,” Steve insisted, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And?” You responded while looking in Spencer's direction. He was sitting at a table outside this time since it was a nice sunny morning, and he was in fact, looking your way. 

He gave you one of the tight-lipped smiles you loved so much. 

“Hearts start floating around him every time he does,” Steve teased. 

“You are exaggerating,” you laughed. 

“You should make a move on him. He’s cute, tall, smart—”

“He’s my friend,” You stopped him. “I would never.”

“So if he weren’t your friend, you’d make a move?”

You glanced at Spencer again. You knew him and he was more than just a pretty face. Anyone who knew him the way you did, knew he was a catch.

“I mean if he was a stranger...”

“See?”

“But that doesn’t mean anything.” You shook the thought away. “He’s the only person I have here. And Inez. And you. I can’t… risk losing him. Plus, I don’t see him that way. He’s too good for me.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘too good for you’.” Steve mocked your voice and made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “And I’m just saying, you should make a move before someone else does.”

You scoffed as if he’d told the funniest joke. “He can tell me all about it if someone hits on him.”

Your stomach twisted just by thinking about it, though. And that hypothetical situation didn’t prepare you for the actual moment.

Just a few days later. 

“I met a girl the other day,” Spencer commented casually. 

You were on your fifteen-minute break and went to sit with him at his usual table. You did that on slow mornings. He always managed to entertain you about the book he was currently reading or any other random fact about whatever crossed his mind. 

You choked a little before answering, “That’s exciting!” You tried your best to keep your iced coffee in your mouth. “Was she cute?”

“Y-yeah. I met her at a bar, she was the bartender.” He smiled shyly. 

“You went to a bar?” You raised your brows.

“Believe it or not, I did. Undercover, sort of.”

That made more sense. 

“She almost became a victim of the guy we were hunting,” he continued explaining. He sometimes told you about the cases, the ones that weren’t so tough, he had admitted once. “Luckily she lived, and she uh, she called me the next day and mailed me this.” He handed you one of the same cards he’d given you when he found you with his number on it.

The difference was that this one had a lipstick stain on the back.

Like a punch in your gut.

“Oh, she sent you a kiss for saving her life.” You kept a straight face. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he chuckled.

“I like her.” You lied, playing it so cool, even when your blood was boiling inside. Burning hot. Sick to your stomach-hot. God, you couldn’t be falling for Spencer, but the fact he’d been licking your wounds ever since you met didn’t help. He was your shoulder to cry on. The arms you ran to when something upset you. He was a kind, handsome, and smart man. He deserved all the attention, all the love and care. A normal friend would be happy for him, so why weren’t you? “She’s bold.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been told I need that in a girl.” He nodded, lips tight in a thin line. 

“Have you talked to her lately?” You sipped on your drink. You needed to know more about this girl who made Spencer blush like a teenager. 

“Not much.” He cleared his throat and put the card away, deep inside his wallet as if he wanted to keep it forever. “I’m not very good at letting things… flow.”

“I’m sure you are.” You nudged his arm playfully. “You just have to practice.” 

The corner of his lips curled up into a weak smile. 

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” 

Spencer’s phone rang at 2 AM. He’d just fallen asleep over the bed covers with a book over his chest. He looked at the tiny phone screen and your name popped up. His heart began to drum in his ears and his cheeks started to burn as if you’d shown up in front of him.

He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat before answering. “Hello?”

“Spencie,” you babbled. 

There was loud music in the background.

“You okay?” Spencer sat upright, clearing his voice once more.

“Fine. I’m fine I just—“

“Are you drunk?”

“Not drunk. I had a few drinks.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?” He swung his legs to the edge of the bed and stayed there, staring at his wall.

“No.” You sighed. “If I see you right now I will not control myself.”

“What does that mean?” He frowned.

“I really like your lips. You have very nice lips and a lot of pretty words come out of those pretty lips.”

“Okay?” His cheeks grew warmer. 

Where did that come from?

“Which is why I kissed this random guy instead.”

Ouch.

“Random guy?”

“You’d think he’s a good kisser because of that face like he had a beautiful face but gosh, he was a bad kisser. Like a really bad one. Like yikes.”

“Who’s taking you home?” He changed the subject. Picturing your lips on someone else was torture.

“I called a taxi. It’s on its way. I just thought I’d give you a call while I waited. Would you stay with me until it comes?” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” The word slipped out before he could bite his tongue.

But it didn’t seem to bother you.

“Mmm, sweetheart.” You laughed a little. 

Spencer didn’t respond. He squinted his eyes shut and tried to hold back a smile. 

“Are you still there?” You asked.

“Right here.” He put on some slippers and headed to his kitchen to put on the coffee maker. Just to boil some water and make himself a chamomile tea. Coffee at this hour was not good for his brain. 

“Can you stay on the phone until I make it home?”

“Okay, yeah. Is something wrong?” He leaned on the kitchen counter.

“I don’t trust men. I mean, I trust you. You are the exception. In so many things.”

“How’s that?” He tried to get some more information. All he could think of was you saying ‘I really like your lips’ over and over again.

“I’m… very drunk.” You dodged his question. “Anyway, if the driver hears that I’m on the phone he won’t try anything stupid.”

“That’s smart.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s really a compliment coming from you. The smartest person to ever exist.”

Spencer chuckled. “You’re so chatty.” 

“It’s the tequila talking.” And he adored it. 

You gasped with excitement when the taxi arrived and the sound of you dropping the phone got him to really laugh.

“You okay?” He asked, even though chances were you didn’t hear him.

Spencer went to sit at his desk in the meantime.

“Hello?” 

“You okay?” He asked again.

“Oh, you’re still there, I dropped you. I mean I dropped the phone and couldn’t reach it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. And I have the weekend off so it’s okay.”

“Oh, how fun! Are you gonna do anything fun, Dr. Reid?”

He smiled. You’d never called him Doctor Reid. “Not really, no. I don’t have anything planned.”

“You’re not a planner, huh?”

“Umm, no?”

“We could do something. I have tomorrow off, which is the only reason I agreed to go out tonight.”

“Y-yeah, we could definitely do something. Do you, uh, have something in mind?”

“No, I just want to spend the day with you.” You sighed deeply. “I miss you.”

Spencer gulped. “Yeah, we haven’t talked much lately.”

“There’s so much I want to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah?” There he was again, trying to get you to talk.

‘I really like your lips’ echoed in his mind. 

“Yep.” You hiccuped. “But we have all day tomorrow to catch up.” You hiccuped again. “What the—”

“What? What is it?” Spencer frowned. Your tone had changed drastically.

“I think he’s driving me somewhere else.” You lowered your voice. 

“He's not driving you home?”

“No…”

His heart dropped to his stomach. There’d been abductions not long ago around your area—he’d warned you about it when they happened—but since they didn’t happen again, it didn’t make a case for the bureau. 

Every horrible outcome came to his mind. 

“Don’t hang up, okay? I’ll…” he immediately thought of Garcia. “I’ll have someone track your phone just— just don’t hang up, you hear me? Do not hang up.” 

He put you on speaker while he searched for Garcia’s number.

“Oh, shit,” you laughed just when he was about to message Penelope.

“What? What is it?” 

“I’m… I think I’m outside your apartment. I mean it looks familiar? But… I’m not home.”

“What?” He made his way to the living room and peeked through the blinds. 

There was a taxi outside his apartment complex. The back door opened and there you were, struggling to get out.

Spencer breathed out relieved. “I’ll come get you.” 

He didn’t hang up or question anything and marched downstairs to find you. You were standing with both hands clasped behind your hands.

“I gave the wrong address, I think.” You winced apologetically. 

“You scared the crap out of me.” He enveloped you in his arms. 

“Aw, don’t be.” You gave him a lazy pat on his back. “I know how to fight.”

“While being drunk?” He let go of you and smirked. 

“Now there I’m at a disadvantage.” You raised your index finger to make your point. “But I would’ve fought nonetheless.”

“Hey, chick, you gonna pay or what?” The driver ducked his head out the open window.

“How much?” Spencer walked to him, pulling out his wallet. 

“$13.45.”

Spencer got a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the man. He looked oddly familiar. “Keep the change.”

“No, wait!” You yelled. “I have cash somewhere in my purse.” You dug inside your small bag. 

Spencer placed his hand flat on your lower back and guided you inside, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the driver left. He was sure he’d seen his face somewhere.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said.

He didn’t respond and hung one of your arms over his shoulders and wrapped one arm around your waist to help you go upstairs.

“I’ve always wondered why you don’t have an elevator.” You stumbled over a step, weighing Spencer down with you. “Whoops!” You laughed. 

He tried his best to keep you both on your feet, holding you tighter. “It’s only a three-story building.” 

“Right. But it would be very handy for this type of situation.”

“I’m the only person under thirty who lives here.”

“Case in point. Maybe they don’t come home drunk but knees. What about old people’s knees.”

Spencer had no answer to that and really laughed then as he opened the door.  “We’re here.”

“It always smells like a library here.” You sniffed loudly. You let go of him and began to undress. 

Right there.

“Whoa, why don’t you—” Spencer took his eyes off you, but you stumbled your way to his room, leaving a trail of clothes behind you.

He called your name and got no answer, so he went for you, looking everywhere but straight ahead in case you’d decided to rid yourself of every piece you were wearing.

To his surprise, you had already turned yourself into a cocoon under the bed covers.

At least you took very seriously what he once said about outside clothes on the bed. 

The room was too bright even behind your eyelids. Your head was pounding—you were sure it was pounding already inside your dream. Your mouth was dry. So dry it hurt to swallow. You could still taste the tequila.

Memories from last night began to come in flashes. The party. A stranger’s tongue in your mouth. Regret. Disgust. Realization.

Spencer.

You jolted awake abruptly and a breeze sneaked inside the bed covers. A breeze that touched your skin everywhere. You lifted them and looked down on your body just to see nothing but your skin. 

You were fully naked in Spencer’s bed. 

“Shit.”

Panic rushed through you and your eyes immediately shot next to you. The other side was spotless. You closed your eyes and let out a relieved sigh.

“Good morning.” Spencer’s voice entered the room. He was leaning against the doorframe with a gracious smile.

You squeaked, bringing the bed covers up to your chin. “How long have you been here?” you asked.

“I live here.” He put a strand of hair behind his ear.

“I mean…” You closed your eyes for a moment. A sharp pain pulsed in your temples.  “There, staring.”

“I just got here, don’t worry.” Spencer walked inside and gave you his back to riffle through his closet. 

He was acting so normal. As if there wasn’t a naked woman in his bed.

“Spencer, how did I get here?” You asked.

He paused for a moment, turning around. “You don’t remember?”

“I… don’t remember much.”

He chose a shirt from his wardrobe and placed it by your feet. For you. “You gave the wrong address to the taxi.” 

“How? I don’t even know—” you stopped mid-sentence. You did know his address. Once upon a time, when you first came to his place you memorized his address in case of an emergency. “Where did you sleep?”

“Couch.” He smiled, scrunching up his nose. 

It looked like he was about to turn around and leave but you spoke again, and he stayed halfway in halfway out. 

“Sorry, this is very embarrassing and so not like me.”

“I know, is something wrong going on?”

Him. Ever since he mentioned Austin, it was all you thought of. You’d gone out to distract yourself from thinking about him as someone else’s girlfriend.

“I guess I needed a distraction but chose the wrong kind of distraction. And the wrong people.”

“Well, you should take a shower so we can plan something for today.” 

You quirked a brow. “What, you don’t work today?”

“I guess you don’t remember much of last night.”

“What?” you asked. 

“No, I don’t work today. Or tomorrow.” He raised his brows, smiling.

Which was once in a lifetime. 

“And you want to spend it with me?”

“Uh, yeah, why not?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” You held the urge to roll your eyes. 

“What? Austin? no, no she—” He looked away for a moment. “Not my girlfriend.”

It was hard not to get a sense of relief by hearing that.  

 “Well, I have to go home first. My clothes probably smell like tequila and cigarettes.”

“Already washed and dried.” He gestured with his chin at a chair by the window. There were your clothes, clean and folded. He didn’t want you to go home. He didn’t want to waste time. “Breakfast’s ready when you’re ready.” 

He turned around again, and you spoke again.

“What else did we talk about last night?”

Spencer paused. “Nothing important.” 

He then finally walked away and closed the door behind him.

You threw yourself back, sighing deeply, and stayed there for a moment. An intrusive thought began to invade you: about one day— someday not too far away—waking up in his bed like this, but this time with him next to you. You shook the thought away immediately and put the shirt on to make your way to his bathroom that luckily was right there inside his room. 

It was a big bathroom and everything was so neat and in place. You’d never met a man that was this clean. And thoughtful. He’d left you a sealed toothbrush on the sink counter and Tylenol. 

So you did that first, put the pills in your mouth, drank three cups of water, and hopped in the shower. If you were at your apartment, you would’ve taken a longer shower but this time you were showered and dressed in ten minutes—you chose the shirt he gave you instead of your own. It looked better. And it smelled like him. 

You quickly changed the bedsheets—it was the least you could do—and made your way to the kitchen. The smell of food reached your tastebuds right away. You barely ate last night—probably the reason you got drunk too quickly.

Spencer was by the stove, facing away from you. 

“What do you wanna do today?” He asked, turning around with a pan of scrambled eggs and placing it over the small table.

You hummed in deep thought. 

“Would you go apartment hunting with me?”

Next chapter

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff

[mako-neexu]

all guda related stuff in mahoyo collab

summoning as a highly complicated magecraft -> highly intact sense of self, magical energy, magical crest, sheer willpower........you who is light and equally dark....

casual comments/banter to the people they trust

guda getting shocked of all things at a talking bird www

gudako -> young girl that likes to jog every morning

gudao -> brat that likes small time candy store sweets

UGH the further emphasis on Servants being familiars that no one - not anyone should just use (exceptional...)

stressing the role of a 'Master'

'I also make mistakes a lot'

"I still don't see what's so special about summoning."

guda screams during summons? lmao kind of reminds me of mash with lord camelot

the way guda just refers to other people as 'that another human' www (i know 'person' is more accurate but to me it sounds like an alien in disguise calling someone as 'fellow human' ww)

Of COURSE guda knows how to stop their own pulse

disbelief. perhaps gut feeling. guda's perception of death to others. (i guess in the face of unnatural they would doubt it. but considering Id chapter, it would depend on the person and how theyre closest to?)

'more like tobimaru' 'more like soujyuurou' getting angry on behalf of someone without letting it show as well... i Understand.

THE TOPIC OF AGING KILLS ME. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE HESITANT????? dont yokuwakaranaina ME????

Don't face world-ending disasters alone

IM CRYING OH MY GOD IM NOT WELL "did you sleep well?" "i slept peacefully because the night was quiet and nice" AUGH GUDAAAAA😭

probably nothing of note but additional descriptor to guda is that they look like a college student as compared to previous descriptions of being 'high school student'.......

not being good at horror stories 🥹 reminds me of summer 5...

(unwell) i forget about guda's tactical prowess sometimes (lies) + guda's mention of the looking glass reminds me of berkercas valentines...

Subtle but gudao's reaction to beating down kashin is 'exhausted or relieved' meanwhile for dako she has the 'doubt' in her dialogue

subtle again but theres a hesitance to guda when asked about what the future looked like. but their second option is saying "eh there arent any flying cars anyways"

ahh okay now i know the crypto stuff guda said. its from gudao. is this MHX's influence lmao. gudao youre advertising crypto seriously? ww

guda casually joking about the times they astral project out of their body likes its nothing and mash is not normal either of course and treats it as regular occurrences. well, its regular but for a normal average person in the 21st century, it certainly isnt ww

GUDA ONCE AGAIN PROVING that despite being 'camera' for us players, they actively hide information and i am not over that fact. (knowing who the culprit is before most of the rest-)

guda not hesitating at ALL to rayshift back to 1999 where the end of the world was supposed to happen www

Ah!! To encourage kinomi in confessing, guda confessed their own out in the open!!!

A bakery with the one they love / A wish to reach the South Pole

You may not be able to have all of your dreams, your nights be peaceful, but I hope that you will still be rewarded at the end of your journey 😭

#nasu stop giving me guda crumbs in events and stick it in main chapters only im BEGGING #fate grand order #fgo #fujimaru ritsuka #guda #gudako #gudao

[sugar-grigri]

The character who most resembles you mentally ?

Laios

Honestly, there are always facets of a character that you can identify with, and it's even human to identify with a character when discovering a story - it's like a kind of personal reference point.

But I have to confess that from what I've shown on this blog, Laios makes the most sense.

For the fact that he expresses his interests in a similar way to me: talking a lot about a subject to the point of inundating an interlocutor (in a sometimes pejorative way), finding facets of interest for something that doesn't seem to have any, and often having different reactions to that subject than others.

I think those who follow me for (or rather also for) my analyses of CSM would see what I'm talking about, I must have this side where not only do I have such a growing interest that I know the chapters by heart, but I must also give this impression of almost overestimating this work

I also have this side where many times I've been criticized for not having understood undertones, signals, and I find myself completely shocked when someone throws what was wrong at me, all of a sudden, without having communicated more expressly beforehand.

+ I'm very close to my siblings, especially my twin sister, with whom I'm totally fused. And I'm the confrontational figure in my family, being very impulsive I'm the person to avoid starting during the family meal, especially when it comes to criticizing my little brother lol

And I'm gay af

#ask #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #laios #laios touden #<3 #chainsaw man

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 08

Words: 4,3k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

Notes: I’m beginning my studying time this upcoming weeks so expect chapters only on weekends. Remember you can send me requests for small stories with any jjk, op or aot characters, smut or fluff, except smut for minors like Megumi, Yuji, Nobara, etc.. Anyways thank you and have a great week 🤍

Ao3 link | wattpad link

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Fic playlist

You had arrived from work 20 minutes ago to be exact, in that time you had taken a shower and now you were making a coffee to go straight to studying. Tomorrow you had the exam and you had barely had any free time to study during the week. They had given you more work and the teamwork with Satoru had grown. Satoru. It was strange for you to call him by his name, it was even stranger to call him in class, so most of the time you tried not to do it, but Satoru, as clever as he was, had noticed it and had taken it as a new way to mess with you, in a good way of course.

You walked in silence to your room — Kyoko was studying for another of her subjects and her parents had gone to sleep a while ago. Making as little noise as possible you sat down at your desk and opened the book to the exercise page. Putting aside the hot cup of coffee, you sat up straight, ready to spend practically the entire night, making problems over and over again.

You knew you were going to pass the exam, thanks to Satoru's explanations you knew you would get it but you still wanted to pass it. It wasn't because you didn't want to go on that date with him, to tell the truth, right now you wouldn't mind doing it.

While you were thinking that, a smile appeared on your face, which you immediately shook off. If you liked Satoru better and if Kyoko had been right, your “hatred” towards him had always been stupid.

Taking your headphones and your mobile phone, you put on your study playlist on Spotify and began working through each of the problems, with the music filling your ears.

Close to 2 a.m., you decided to get up from the seat where you had been sitting for over two hours and walk around your room to stretch and clear your mind. Your hands ached from gripping the pen so tightly, and your bed was calling out to you to go to sleep.

Your phone, which was on the table, lit up, indicating that a new notification had arrived. Weird. It was 2 a.m.—who could it be?

You picked it up and looked at the notification.

Pain in the ass

Birdie!!

Don't stay up too late and rest.

You'll do great tomorrow 💪

Feeling a mix of surprise and warmth flood through you, you read Satoru's message again, your heart fluttering at his unexpected gesture. Despite the late hour, his words brought a sense of comfort and encouragement that you hadn't realized you needed.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you typed out a quick reply to him.

You to Pain in the ass

Thanks, Satoru.

Your message means a lot.

I'll make sure to get some rest, don’t worry.

Goodnight 💫

Sending the message, you set your phone back down on the table, you returned to your studies. But without being able to shake the feeling of warmth that lingered within you.

You heard your name being called in the distance, over and over again. It was Kyoko's voice. With your eyelashes still stuck together, you opened your eyes. In the end, you had fallen asleep while studying. At what point? You didn't know exactly.

“What are you doing here?” Kyoko asked, her eyes wide open.

“What…?”

“Your exam is in 45 minutes!”

You had fallen asleep. Damn, damn, damn. How was that possible? You got up from the chair and grabbed your phone. It hadn't rung.

“Kyoko…” You whispered, turning to look at her, feeling your chest tightening. “In 45 minutes, it's impossible for me to make it to class.” You had to take several transfers to get to the university, and usually, it took you more than an hour. “Shit... if I don't show up, I'll fail, and if I fail, they'll take away my scholarship, if they take away my scholarship, then I'll have to give up everything.” You were about to have a panic attack.

“Hey!” she grabbed your face to make you look at her. “If someone can drive you, then you'll make it on time.”

You nodded, it was true. If someone drove you, you would be there in 15 minutes. But who? Who could drive you?

And then your eyes widened as you realized there was someone. You grabbed the phone again and searched for his name among your contacts, dialing and praying that he would pick up.

“Hello!” The familiar voice came from the other end of the line. “It's rare for you to call me at…”

“Satoru!” You cried. “I fell asleep and I won't make it. Could you come pick me up by car?”

“I'll be there in less than 10 minutes, birdie.” And with that, the call ended.

You looked at Kyoko and sighed. “He said he'll be here in 10 minutes.” She looked at you in relief.

“Good, now start getting ready. You are still on your pajamas, I will prepare something for you to eat.” She started to walk away.

“Kyoko.” You called her, Kyoko looked at you from the door frame. “There is no need, you know I get extremely anxious with exams. I will eat something after the exam. Don’t worry.” She nodded and closed the door behind her.

You walked to your closet and looked for something to wear, needing to get ready quickly. You couldn't be late, nor could you keep Satoru waiting. While looking in the mirror, your phone started ringing. Turning on your heel, you approached it and picked up the phone.

“I'm outside.” Satoru's voice came through on the other end of the line.

“Alright, I'm coming out right now.” You said and hung up.

You grabbed your backpack and the notes from the table and hurried through the house. You waved goodbye to Kyoko and stepped outside, finding Satoru's car parked in front. With light steps, you approached the car and naturally got inside.

“I can't thank you enough.” You said as you settled into the seat.

“Birdie, you don't have to thank me for anything.” He said, shrugging and smiling at you. "Ready to go now?” You nodded and finished buckling your seatbelt.

Satoru made sure you had your seatbelt on and started the car. Leaving behind the neighborhood where you lived, Satoru entered the main road towards the university. You had never driven to university so the road was totally new for you.

You focused your eyes on the new view, seeing the high skyline of Tokyo and the different places ahead of you. You let a small sigh out of your lips.

While the car was still moving across the road, you subtly directed your gaze towards Satoru. You hadn't realized until now, but his blue eyes were covered by round sunglasses. As you looked at his profile you couldn't shake the growing feeling that he was in your stomach.

God Satoru Gojo is fucking handsome. You thought to yourself.

Shaking those thoughts away, you looked for your notes and opened them to review a little before the exam. Your leg began to move unconsciously, it was something that happened to you since you were little, when you were nervous.

A hand, that wasn’t yours, stopped the movement of your leg. This simple gesture caused a sensation that went straight through your whole body.

“Birdie.” Satoru’s voice echoed in the once silent car. “You will do it great…” His hand was still on your knee. And for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong or uncomfortable.

“I just…” You swallowed, trying to formulate a sentence. “I just want to make sure.”

Satoru nodded, still looking at the road before him and still having his hand on your leg. You wanted to tell him to move it. It was a gesture that felt way too intimate, way too comforting. You liked way too much.

You coughed and moved your leg, trying to make him move away his hand. He must have caught the gesture because he moved his hand away from your leg and grabbed the steering wheel again.

A feeling of emptiness and remorse settled in your chest. What an idiot you were.

The landscape began to become more familiar, as you were approaching the university. Luckily you were going to arrive in time for the exam, there were still 10 minutes left before it started. You heard Satoru murmur under his breath and felt the car slow down.

You turned to look at him to see what was happening. “What happened?”

“There is always a traffic jam at the entrance.” He explained to you. You paled for a moment to which Satoru noticing, tried to calm you down. “Birdie, there's time, we'll get there. I’ll make sure you get there.” That calmed your heart fluttering with nervousness.

The car moved slowly and the minutes started to pass, you were starting to enter the campus when the clock indicated that there were 5 minutes left for the start of the exam. You felt the car stopping right in front of your faculty.

“Go.” Satoru pointed at you with the head, you looked at him confused. “C’mon birdie, just go to the exam.”

“What about you?”

“I will find a place to park and go.” You were about to speak when Satoru spoke once again. “It’s okay, I will arrive on time and if I don’t then I will cry a little and the professor will let me in. I mean, look at this face.”

You huffed and unbuckled the car seat belt. “You better get there, because I don't want to beat you if you don't take the exam.” Satoru smiled and leaned on the steering wheel, lowering his glasses a little.

“Don't worry princess, that won't happen.”

Your cheeks turned crimson red upon hearing the new name he had given you. “Don't even think about calling me that again Gojo!” You threatened him, knowing that calling him by his last name would upset him.

“Sorry birdie, now go!” You nodded and turned around to start rushing toward the class.

Your legs moved quickly through the hallways, each step echoing through the halls of the university building. With every step, you felt the weight of your anxiety pressing down on you, urging you to move faster. Had your classroom always been this far away? It seemed like an eternity.

Finally, you reached the door to your classroom and skidded to a stop, leaning against the wall to catch the breath that had escaped your lungs. Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline from the sprint was still running through your veins, it had been a long time since you last practiced any type of exercise, so your body was no longer used to it. You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly as you tried to calm your racing pulse.

Now recovered, you entered the classroom and scanned the faces of your classmates. Most were already seated, their faces a mix of nervous anticipation and focused determination. Some, were deep in last-minute discussions, whispering fervently as they exchanged notes and assurances.

Taking your usual seat, you sank into the chair and let out a long sigh, the tension in your body slowly dissipating. But as you looked around the room, a knot of worry formed in your stomach. Satoru was nowhere to be seen. Was he still looking for a place to park?

Professor Tanaka's voice cut through the murmurs of the room, signaling the start of the exam. You looked nervously at the empty seat next to you, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. If Satoru didn't arrive on time, it would be your fault. It had been you who had fallen asleep, who had made him come look for you. And now, he could lose the exam because of you. Panic gnawed at the edges of your mind as you waited, hoping against hope that he would arrive before it was too late.

You bowed your head, silently pleading for Satoru Gojo to appear at that exact moment. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, each second feeling like an eternity as you anxiously awaited his arrival.

Then, just as your hope was beginning to wane, the door swung open and there he was, Satoru Gojo, striding into the classroom with his trademark confidence.

“Gojo, you're late.” Teacher Tanaka's voice rang out, drawing your attention back to it.

Relief flooded through you as you looked up to see him standing there.

He is here.

“Sorry, sorry.” He chuckled, flashing a cocky smile as he made his excuse. “I couldn't find a place to park, but here I am.”

“Okay, now go and sit.” Professor Tanaka instructed, pointing towards his seat.

“Thank you.” Satoru replied with a grateful nod, walking confidently towards his desk, located right next to yours.

Calmly, Satoru settled down next to you and turned his head to look at you. At that moment, your eyes met and a sudden blush invaded you. Satoru gave you a warm, mischievous smile, accompanied by a playful wink that made you blush again, it was the second time in the day.

With determination, you decided to put any distractions related to Satoru Gojo out of your mind and focused on the exam that Professor Tanaka had just handed out. With a sigh, you gripped the pen firmly and began to read the questions carefully. To your surprise, from the first moment you felt comfortable and confident, understanding each statement clearly.

A satisfied smile spread across your face as you realized that this time was different; Your hours of studying with Satoru had paid off and now you felt ready to face the challenge. With each answer you wrote, your self-confidence grew, and that feeling of accomplishment propelled you to keep going.

Concentrated and focused on your skills, you solved each problem with precision and efficiency.

After 45 minutes, you felt Satoru get up from his seat, drawing curious looks from most of your classmates. Satoru, with his characteristic playful smile, approached the teacher and handed him the exam. He didn't surprise you since he was always the first to finish the exams.

As Satoru walked towards the professor, some murmurs of surprise and admiration were heard around him. He watched as he confidently handed in his exam, exchanging a few brief words with the professor before returning to his seat.

Despite his quickness, you noticed that Satoru didn't seem worried about the outcome. He always had that carefree self-assurance that made him stand out. Meanwhile, you continued working on the exam calmly and focused, solving each question at your own pace.

Satoru's attitude was simply part of his energetic and self-confident personality. No matter the situation, he always seemed to be one step ahead. But this time I would get over it, yes you would.

You looked at your completed exam and with a smile you stood up from your seat. You walked past Satoru and gave him a subtle glance while wrinkling your nose and flashing your proud smile. You walked up to Professor Tanaka's table and handed her your test.

Turning on your heel you returned to your seat, watching as Satoru kept his gaze fixed on you while he smiled at you with a hand on his chin. You sat down in your seat and directed your gaze towards Satoru, he raised his thumb at him, wondering if he had done well for you, to which you nodded happily.

You turned your head and started looking out the window, while you waited for the exam to end. The minutes passed slowly, as you watched the students go from one side to the other across the campus. You felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and thanks in part to the help of the person you would have least imagined. Satoru Gojo.

It had been over a month since you were paired up for the project, and in that time, you had become closer, as much as it was hard for you to admit. Over the past two weeks, you found that your attitude towards him, as well as your feelings, changed.

With each passing day, your interactions with him became more meaningful and you couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in your emotions. What started as a group project duo you hated and loathed was turning into something deeper, something that stirred your heart in unexpected ways. And something that scared you greatly with every movement you made.

The class was filled with noise and agitated movements of your classmates — the exam was over. You sighed letting out the air of tension and stood up from your seat. Only to run into Satoru looking at you carefully with those blue eyes again. Did he ever look away from you?

“How was birdie?” He smiled at you.

You smiled widely, showing your teeth. “Perfect. I’m going to win our bet.” You challenged him.

“Oh.” He formed an 'o' with his lips. “I can't wait to see that.” A smile appeared on his lips.

“Satoruuuuu.” A voice approached both of you, it was one of your classmates, you saw them a couple of time but never interacted with them.

“Hey.” Satoru smiled with a flirtatious smile drawn on his face, you rolled your eyes at the gesture.

“Satoru, I was wondering.” They looked around and also looked at you. And you swore the gaze wasn’t a nice one. “I’m really bad at this subject and well you’re the best.” To which Satoru nodded with a smile. “I was wondering if you could help me study, we could meet up after classes and you could teach me.” They started touching Satoru’s arm which made an unpleasant sensation run through your body.

Satoru took their hand and placed it far away from him. “Sorry but I don't give private classes.” You looked at him confused, that was clearly a lie. “Now, we will be leaving. Birdie, let’s go?” You looked at him still confused with the lie he just told.

As both of you began to walk away, you overheard the friends of your classmate approaching them.

“I thought she couldn't stand him.” One of them remarked.

“Yeah, and apparently he's been giving her private classes.” Another added.

“Yeah, you know what type of private classes, right?” One of them chuckled. “Her knees must be all red.” The group erupted into laughter.

You rolled your eyes at the disgusting rumors, but over the years, you had learned to ignore such talk behind your back.

Suddenly, Satoru's voice cut through the air. He was no longer beside you. When did he move? “Repeat that if you dare.” He said. “Did you really think I wouldn't hear you with a voice so piercing it echoes throughout the classroom?” A shiver ran down your spine. You had never seen Satoru angry or heard him speak in such a tone. And judging by the stares directed at him, neither had anyone else.

“I…” The person who made the comment stuttered, trembling with fear at the sight of Satoru Gojo's imposing figure and fierce glare.

“What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?” Satoru taunted.

“Satoru.” The one who had approached him earlier to ask for a private class stepped forward. “My friend didn't mean it that way.”

“Is that so?” Satoru said snorting. “Then what did they mean?”

“Satoru.” Your classmate insisted, looking somewhat uncomfortable under Satoru's piercing gaze. “They were just joking around, you know how it is.”

Satoru's expression remained stern, his eyes fixed on the group. “Joking around about what, exactly?” He demanded, his voice laced with a simmering anger.

The group exchanged nervous glances, realizing they were caught in an uncomfortable situation. “We... we didn't mean anything by it.” One of them mumbled.

“And what exactly did you mean, then?” He pressed, his voice low and threatening.

One of the friends stammered, struggling to find words under Satoru's intense scrutiny. “We... we were just messing around, you know?” They muttered weakly.

Satoru's eyes narrowed, his patience becoming thinner with each word that was coming out of their mouths. “Messing around at whose expense?” He snapped, his voice rising with anger.

The group flinched. “We... we didn't mean to offend anyone.” Another one muttered.

You almost laughed out loud hearing them.

Satoru took a step forward, his presence dominating the space between them. “Words have consequences.” He growled. “Think before you speak, or face the consequences.”

With that, Satoru turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the group stunned into silence. As he approached you, you could see his face relaxing and his anger slowly dissipating.

“Sorry about that.” He said, his tone softer now. “You are okay?”

You nodded, not giving much importance to the words of people you didn’t know.

Together, you continued on your way, leaving behind the echoes of the confrontation. As you walked, you couldn't help but give small gazes at Satoru, you wouldn’t have thought Satoru would have stepped out just for you but he did.

Arriving at the cafeteria, you sat one in front of the other and with a cup on each hand.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “For you know, stepping in. There was no need…”

“What do you mean there was no need?” He left his cup on the table. “They were bad mouthing you, trying to create rumors that were no true.”

“People like to talk.” You shrugged casually. “At the end of the day the important thing is what the people who matter to you think about you. Not those with whom you have never exchanged a word and surely never will. They talk because their lives are so extremely boring that to satisfy that void they have, they have to fill it with lies and bad words about others.” You picked up your cup and calmly sipped it again.

You didn't care if people talked behind your back, yes sometimes those words like knives could stab you hard. But at the end of the day those people were insignificant to you, the people you cared about weren't those people so if they wanted to think that you had been sucking Satoru Gojo's cock, then they should. With that story created in their heads, you knew that envy was eating away at them.

“No.” You observed as Satoru's fists tightened on the table, his expression a blend of frustration and indignation. “It doesn't matter if you'll never interact with those people, or if they mean nothing to you. No one deserves to be spoken about in the way they did there.” He declared, his voice carrying a hint of intensity. “You don't deserve that, birdie. You don't deserve anyone speaking ill of you. Because you are truly wonderful and only deserve good and praising words.”

His words resonated deeply, igniting a warmth in your chest as if a comforting flame had been kindled. It was remarkable how Satoru possessed the ability to evoke such a profound sense of reassurance with just a few simple words.

As you met his earnest gaze, you felt your cheeks warmer.

“You’re an idiot.” You said hiding your face in the coffee cup.

Satoru looked at you offended. "What have I done?" He cried.

You were about to reply when your phone started to sound on your bag. “Hi.” You said.

The happy voice of Haibara sounded on the other side of the phone singing your name. “I was calling you to tell you that tomorrow we will be closing the store. So you don’t have to come, you are free!”

“Oh!” You gasped in surprise. “That’s great! But nothing happened right?”

“Nop.” He popped out the ‘p’. “Just enjoy your weekend. Now I need to leave! Bye!” And with that he hanged out.

You looked at you phone for an instant. “What happened?” Satoru spoke.

“Nothing.” You put your phone aside. “Haibara called me, he wanted to tell me that tomorrow I would be free.”

“Great.” He smiled. “The basketball team is having a party at the disco. Wanna come?” He cockily looked at you.

“Are you inviting me out, Satoru Gojo?” You raised an eyebrow. “The results for the exam aren’t out yet.” You challenged him.

“Oh princess if I win the bet I won’t be taking you out to an ugly club.” There it was again that new nickname that turned yourself on.

“Gojo.” You replied with a mocking tone. “Don't even think about calling me that.”

“Kyoko is coming.” He said ignoring your words.

“How do you know that?”

“Suguru is my best friend and Kyoko is his girlfriend, duh.” He said sticking his tongue out.

“I will think about it.”

“Pretty please.” He said pouting.

“I didn’t know the great Satoru Gojo could pout like a puppy.” You mocked.

“Oh for you I would that and much more.”

The conversation was taking an unexpected turn, entering a territory that felt strangely flirtatious. Were you inadvertently sending signals, or was Satoru intentionally leading the interaction in that direction?

You shook your head, dismissing the thought as absurd. No, that couldn't be it. Surely, it was just a result of the comfortable rapport you shared as friends, nothing more. And Satoru, well, he was just being his usual charismatic self, right?

But despite your attempts to rationalize it, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. Could there be something more to these exchanges? Or were you simply overthinking things?

You couldn't deny it, you felt attracted to his presence and appreciated the moments you spent together. And as your connection had deepened, so had your feelings that blossomed within you.

You still didn't want to admit that something had changed in you regarding Satoru Gojo. But you knew it was there, your feelings for him were undeniable and showed no signs of fading.

You brushed off those thoughts, chalking it up to imagination. After all, you and Satoru were just friends, nothing more, nothing less. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

Note: a more transitory chapter than other thing, but the real shit is about to start in the next chapter.

—if you want to be tagged comment below

🏷️: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic, @gojoful , @kitzusune, @sh0jun , @manyno , @ropickle , @lolsasuke , @milk3evee

#gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru x reader #fanfic jjk #jjk x you #jjk x reader #birdie | gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 5: Brown Eyes, Blue Eyes, Green Eyes

Word Count: 29,752

Read on AO3

Previous/Next

Chapter Summary: "Tensions rise when an emissary from Bonta invites the Eliatrope King, his siblings, and especially the Divine Doll living with them to an official event in Bonta, and the fact that Yugo and Amalia's relationship hasn't been quite the same since they came back from their little adventure certainly doesn't help. But things only get more complicated when the appearance of a new rival makes Yugo's blood run cold."

He was mesmerised the moment she stepped into the room. It was as if she alone reflected all the light shining down on them, drawing it to her body and leaving everything else in total darkness.

She was indeed a beacon of light and hope amidst the miserable hole that had become of his existence in the last few centuries. And all because he’d learned too late you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself. 

Oh, but when his eyes first landed on her, he knew he had finally found the one person who truly deserved to be by his side. Just one wayward look from her brown eyes had been enough to melt his frozen heart, breathing new life into an old carcass whose only single-minded focus had been his people’s protection and well-being. How much they would be able to benefit, having her ruling by his side. Just one look at her was all he needed to know she was the key to solving every single misfortune ailing his people. 

She was simply exquisite. His fingers itched to reach out to her and be able to run his hands up and down her body, marvelling at the unparalleled softness of her mahogany skin; kneading her supple flesh until every inch of her skin was covered with his fingertips. He couldn’t help but bite his own lip at the sight of hers, pouty and plump, beckoning him to bite down on them and taste her. How did he burn to weave his fingers through her forest-green locks, the idea of inhaling her soft fragrance almost enough to bring him over the edge. 

She was simply divine. A true gift from the gods. Her tantalising, childbearing hips swayed back and forth in a most alluring dance, drawing all eyes to her scrumptious figure even as it was hidden from view with those rags he made her wear. 

His gaze turned dark as he left his beloved’s sight to settle on him. So aloof, so distant, so indifferent. So unworthy of her. He didn’t know the true extent of the challenges one must face for his people. He couldn’t treat such a vision of loveliness like she deserved to be treated. He didn’t deserve her.

And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her his. 

.....................................................................................................................

Yugo had had no way of knowing the chain of events that day would unravel. In fact, not even Chibi would have been able to predict the turn things were about to take that day. 

The Eliatrope King and his siblings were gathered at the council room, having their first non-Amalia-related meeting practically since she arrived, when he was overtaken by a strong sense of déjà vu. Right as Shinonomé was in the midst of giving her and Qilby’s report on their latest findings on a medicinal herb they’d been growing, the doors burst open, a very disgruntled-looking member of their elite guard panting as he struggled to catch his breath. 

His eyes were wide with shock. 

Before Phaeris could even finish demanding an explanation for why he would interrupt a Council meeting, the guard managed to blurt out an answer that chilled them to their very core: 

“An… an emissary from…from Bonta is here… He… He wishes to…to see you, Your Majesty.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yugo had already teleported out of the room, his pace brisk and alert at this unexpected development. The pit in his stomach only grew worse when the guard informed him of the emissary’s extraordinary abilities—he only demanded an audience with their king after beating most of the elite guards single-handedly. 

In the midst of such worrisome news, Yugo couldn’t help but be impressed. If he really was that good, then how come he hadn’t been sent alongside the rest of this world’s heroes to face him last time? The thrill-seeking part of him couldn’t help but muse about how that might have actually made things more interesting back then. 

When he finally made it in front of the gates guarding the throne room, the Eliatrope made the split-second decision of not entering through them. That was what their ‘guest’ would have been expecting, after all, and he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any intruders. So, with a snap of his fingers, a portal materialised right underneath his feet and transported him right above his throne, allowing him to land on top of his seat with practised ease. 

Much like what happened the last time they had company, Yugo certainly hadn’t been expecting what stood right in the middle of the room. 

Bonta’s emissary was a remarkably small man, even shorter than Glip. He wore a patched-up grey romper and slippers, with a leather belt adorned by a rather large metal buckle. Beige fingerless gloves covered his hands, and a short-sleeved dark blue coat with a fur collar was draped over his form. He seemed to carry some sort of wooden backpack on his back. 

But the strangest thing of all was his skin. It was dark, remarkably dark. But it wasn’t like Amalia’s mahogany skin. No. Bonta’s ambassador was black as coal from head-to-toe, the only exception was his pointy, grey nose. Even his eyes were black! Truth be told, it took Yugo a minute to realise that, no, his coat’s hood—which was adorned by two woolly antennae—didn’t obscure his face; his face was pitch black, too!

Not for the first time since their arrival, the Eliatrope King quietly wondered to himself just where on the Krozmos his people ended up. The World of Twelve could not be considered normal. First, living dolls sent by the gods, and now this. 

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. 

As Yugo and Bonta’s emissary entered a staring contest, both of them willing the other to break the silence first, several flashes of light followed by the sound of someone landing on the floor was all Yugo needed to know his siblings had arrived. The king didn’t even have to break eye contact with their uninvited guest to know Adamaï was hovering beside him. 

Finally, Yugo had had enough. 

“I sure hope you have a good explanation for your intrusion, Mister…?”

“I’m known amongst the Twelvians as Master Joris, Your Majesty.” The emissary, Joris, responded immediately, lowering his body as a sign of respect. “And with all due respect, I believe you should find my explanation more than satisfactory.”

“That I have a hard time imagining.” Yugo commented with a raised eyebrow, before his expression turned dark. “After all, you seem to have attacked some of my guards and trespassed on our property.” 

Joris’ voice remained eerily calm even as he explained himself, “I apologise if any harm has befallen your people, King Yugo, but I was tasked with a mission and fulfilling it is my highest priority.”

“Oh.” It was Adamaï who spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he regarded the ambassador cautiously. “And pray tell, Master Joris, whatever could it be?”

He remained as stone-faced as ever. When he slung his log-backpack out of his shoulders, the Council tensed up immediately, each and every one of them taking on defensive and offensive positions in case the little man tried anything. However, the aggression in their eyes was replaced by pure shock when Master Joris simply placed his backpack on the floor next to him as he lowered himself on one knee as a sign of respect. 

And even that was nothing compared to their astonishment at his next words:

“Queen Astra of Bonta has sent me here to inquire about the Sadida woman living on the island with you.”

At that revelation, Yugo almost choked on his own spit. All around him, his siblings shared worried, perplexed glances at the accusation, even if they tried to hide their surprise around their ‘guest’. A Sadida woman? What? They hadn’t had any contact with the outside world since the Twelvians sent their warriors after him! Where in the Great Goddess’ name did they get that idea from—?

And then the truth dawned on him. 

Amalia.

While it was true Amalia looked indiscernible from a human, she most certainly was not. Her presenting herself in her doll form the very first time they met more than confirmed that. But that still didn’t explain why Bonta’s queen was so certain they harboured a Sadida woman with them. More importantly, it didn’t explain how they’d come to be privy to that piece of information.

If he wanted answers, he would have to be very careful with his wording. 

“I’m afraid I’m obligated to inform you that no Sadida woman lives here, Master Joris.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. 

Master Joris narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. He understood what was going on here. You didn’t become one of the queen of Bonta’s most trusted envoys without learning a thing or two about high politics, after all. If he wanted answers, he would have to provide some of his own until he managed to gather enough intel. 

“With all due respect, my King,” He started, his head bowed in order to appear non-threatening. Although he had to admit it might be too late for that after his treatment of their guards. “We were informed of her presence by some Cra soldiers that were flying over the area. I do not know how deep your knowledge is on the races populating our world, Your Majesty, but a Cra’s sight is second to none, and their sense of honour is unparalleled.” Joris finally raised his head to look deep into the Eliatrope’s eye, his words laced with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. “They would never lie about something like this.”

Yugo’s eyes widened like saucers at his words as they finally provided him with the missing piece to complete the puzzle, and he could sense his siblings had the same reaction. The Cra sentinels from a few weeks ago! But when could they have seen—? But of course! Phaeris informed him of their ‘visit’ the very same day he and Adamaï took Amalia out of the palace. They must have caught sight of her then!

As he gathered his thoughts, Efrim snarled at the emissary, and for once his king was grateful for his distrusting nature, “And what exactly were those Cra doing around our territory in the first place? Does their strong sense of honour not apply to spying on others?”

However, Joris remained unperturbed, meeting the dragon’s accusatory glare with a stony glance of his own. “Rest assured, this has nothing to do with your people being spied on.” He wisely chose not to comment on how, technically speaking, Oma Island wasn’t their territory; they just claimed it for themselves and no one had been willing to take it back yet. “Cra are often sent on reconnaissance all around the World of Twelve. Their stumbling across your people was not their intention.”

Their suspicion hung heavily in the air. While Nora kept her brother from acting rashly, the rest of the Council members all tried to convey the same thing to Yugo through their eyes: “We cannot risk causing further trouble with the Twelvians, find out what he wants and send him away.”

Which was much easier said than done after what Master Joris said next, “It was during one of those missions when, trying to use their eyesight to better locate themselves, they saw a young Sadida woman by your side, Your Majesty.”

His hands clutching at the armrest of his throne for support, Yugo forced himself to remain as composed as possible, knowing how showing too much emotion could have terrible consequences.  

“I understand, Master Joris. However, I maintain we do not have a Sadida woman with us. Those Cra soldiers were mistaken.”

Once again, Master Joris’ whole demeanour remained unchanged. He had seen far too much in his long life to let himself be swayed so easily. “Your Majesty, I beg you to listen to what I have to say: a Cra’s eyes are never mistaken. The other kingdoms are already aware of the situation and on high alert, especially the Sadida Kingdom. They fear you might have taken one of their own.”

Or a betrayal, it’s what went unsaid, but everyone heard it loud and clear nonetheless. 

“If you do not return her to her people or, at the very least, explain why she is here with you, this could result in war.” Joris sentenced, his eyes severe as he implored the Eliatropes to see reason. And yet, despite himself, the dark-skinned Bontarian couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tight. 

Given the outcome of sending their greatest warriors to battle King Yugo, he sincerely feared the Twelvians would fail despite the overwhelming odds in their favour. 

The chance of living in peace with the Twelvians slipping from his fingers right under his nose, Yugo was left with no choice but to make a rash decision. His siblings, especially Adamaï, could chew him out for it later. 

Praying to the Great Goddess that this wouldn’t come back to bite him, he finally said, “We don’t have a Sadida woman living with us.”

Joris barely suppressed the urge to sigh and shake his head ruefully. So that was it, huh? They’d rather face war than come clean. Queen Astra would not like this, and Prince Armand would most likely throw a fit at their insolence, and while King Oakheart would try to remain level-headed and composed, even he would not be able to let this offence go. They were going to war. 

“Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.” Master Joris bowed his head one last time before raising to his feet. However, just as he was about to grab hold of his backpack and be on his way, his fingers froze at the king’s next words just as he was about to reach for the handle:

“She is a Divine Doll sent by the gods themselves as a sign of good will. We have not caused the Sadida nation any harm.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Joris allowed himself to lose his composure. Whirling back around to face the Eliatrope monarch—and noting the discreet, astounded looks the blue-and-white dragon by his side sent him—, he couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. 

“What did you just say, Your Majesty?”

For once, it was Yugo who remained unperturbed. “The young woman the Cra saw isn’t a Sadida.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully. “Well, not exactly. She is a Divine Doll that was sent to us by the gods about two months ago. She’s been living with us ever since.”

Joris could not believe his own ears. A Divine Doll, sent to the World of Twelve? After all this time? He had to be sure the Eliatrope King knew what he was talking about. He simply could not know the significance those dolls held to their world. 

“A Divine Doll, you say? And pray tell, which one of Sadida’s ten dolls lives on Oma alongside you, my King?”

Yugo braced himself for what was sure to come next. “His eleventh doll, Amalia.”

Bonta’s emissary almost had to do a double take. Then, he blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He implored the gods to give him some kind of sign he had heard him wrong. He had to have heard him wrong. There was simply no way he actually said there was an eleventh doll. Had Prince Armand been there, he would have already attacked the Eliatrope with a giant carnivorous plant for daring to disgrace his culture so brazenly. 

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid that is impossible. Sadida only made ten dolls back in the Primitive Era.” He forced his voice to remain as even as possible, choosing his words very carefully. It looked like they indeed had taken a Sadida prisoner and were either mocking their beliefs or she had lied about her identity. For what purpose, he could only wonder. 

“Perhaps that is so.” The new voice forced Joris to turn around in surprise. It belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope with a white tunic and glasses. “Indeed, from what I’ve gathered, Sadida created ten dolls in the Primitive Era, but I believe my king never said anything about this doll being from then.”

The Bontarian furrowed his brow, intrigued. “What are you implying, Master…?”

“Qilby.” He supplied simply, his tone far too affable for the kind of bombshells he was dropping. “And I’m simply speaking the truth, Master Joris. Our dear doll was not created in the Primitive Era, but she was made especially for our king.”

Qilby’s claim feeling like a suckerpunch, he only vaguely registered what the bespectacled Eliatrope said next, “Yugo hasn’t lied once during this entire conversation, Master Joris. The woman the Cra soldiers saw is not a Sadida, yet she is indeed Sadida’s eleventh doll.”

If what they were saying was true… That, that changed everything. He had to make sure. He had to see her with his own two eyes before he risked causing a commotion amongst the Twelvians. If Sadida had truly created a new Divine Doll after all this time… It would shake the very foundations of their civilisation. 

His resolution unshakable, he turned once again to face the King of the Eliatropes, “Your Majesty, I request an audience with this Divine Doll.”

Yugo could feel himself bristle at the request, his death grip on his throne turning his knuckles white. His whole body went taut at the mere notion of introducing Amalia to the Twelvians. For a moment, he seriously considered declining, but then he looked around him, his dark brown eyes registering everyone staring expectantly back at him. He looked at the few guards remaining, the sight reminding him of the fact that Master Joris had only attacked his subjects because he and his people still didn’t consider the Eliatropes as one of their own. 

And then he thought of Amalia, how her presence was supposed to be a sign of good will, a bridge between the Eliatropes and the races native to the World of Twelve. He almost let out a mirthless chuckle at the reminder. The gods sent Sadida’s most precious flower yet they didn’t do anything to ease their worshippers into accepting them. And then, as if his mother Herself were looking out for him, he remembered Qilby’s words from back when Amalia first entered their lives:

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessings.”

Yugo couldn’t help but let out a small gasp at the memory. Loath as he was to admit it sometimes, Qilby’s prodigious memory and his matter-of-factly nature had saved him more than once. They reminded him once again of the place Amalia occupied in their lives:

She was their key to earning the Twelvians’ acceptance. 

Ignoring the strange pang in his chest at his thought process, telling him for some reason that wasn’t quite it, the king eventually allowed a pleased smile to tug at the corner of his lip. With a gracious nod towards Master Joris, he turned to the guard that had warned them of the Bontarian’s visit. “Please, Elias, escort Lady Amalia to the throne room.”

“Yes, my King.” With a deep bow, his arm to his chest, Elias did as he was told. As soon as the portal flickered into existence, he was gone. 

Catching Master Joris standing tall—or, well, as tall as someone so short could stand—and alert as he waited for Amalia to arrive, Yugo couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. With a clear of his throat to gain his attention, as soon as the emissary’s black eyes flickered over to him, he explained, “My apologies, Master Joris, but I would suggest you get comfortable.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but if Lady Amalia truly is a Divine Doll, then it is imperative I greet her with the respect she is due. Introducing myself to her while sitting down seems hardly appropriate.”

“Oh, and I respect your commitment to protocol, Master Joris. It’s just that it might take them a little while to arrive.”

“I was under the impression that your portals served to transport you from one place to another almost immediately?”

The emissary didn’t miss the way the king and the dragon by his side exchanged meaningful glances. “That is true. However, Amalia will not be coming through a portal.”

Joris quirked an eyebrow at that.

.......................................................................................................................

Saying Amalia fell off her bed in surprise when one of the palace’s elite guards stepped out of a portal and into her room wouldn’t have been right. So the two of them had agreed not to speak a word of the incident. However, that was nothing compared to how taken aback she’d been upon being informed Yugo requested her presence at the throne room. 

As Amalia kindly rejected the guard’s—Elias, he introduced himself as—offer to go through one of his portals and allowed herself to be escorted to the throne room, the doll couldn’t help but let her mind wander. The current state of her relationship with the Eliatrope King at the forefront of her mind. 

The distance he drew between the two of them hadn’t lessened any in the past few weeks. If anything, it only grew a little bit wider each passing day. It was so frustrating, to know the cordiality you were treated with was nothing compared to the warmth you’d once been subjected to. The kindness and care Yugo used to treat her with could put the sun’s rays to shame, whereas now that stiff politeness of him could put out any fire. 

They had yet to have any more meaningful conversations since they returned from the beach, their current interactions amounted to little more than pointless small talk and awkward greetings. The longest the two of them had held a conversation as of late had been when she begged him to talk to Glip and Baltazar about attending their classes. 

Ever since then she shared longer, more meaningful conversations with her classmates, some of whom still had trouble remembering irregular verbs, mind you; than the one person on Oma she thought she could call her friend. 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t frustrated. And mad. Oh, she was so mad at him for daring to give her the cold shoulder without so much of an explanation! One second they were out and about on their first adventure and having a great time, and the next he acted like having her around was physically painful! And now he summoned her to the throne room like nothing happened? Now he wanted to talk to her?

What gives?! 

And why the throne room, of all places!? Couldn’t he have just knocked on her door to talk to her like a normal person? Or, seeing as he was anything but ‘normal’, was it really so hard to visit her balcony and ask for a moment of her time? Apparently it was, for he just had to summon her to the freakin’ throne room like a gobball to the slaughterhouse. 

Stealing a quick glance at Elias’ back, the Divine Doll went to discreetly and quickly rub the side of her face with the back of her hands, trying to keep the tears at bay. More than anything she felt hurt. So terribly, incredibly hurt. Her heart would give an uncomfortable squeeze whenever she dwelled too much on her own loneliness. And yet, she couldn’t help but wrack her brain every night as she went to sleep in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. But no matter how much she tossed and turned and tortured herself, she always came up empty-handed. She just couldn’t understand. 

All she knew was Yugo was pushing her away and she didn’t even know what she’d done wrong. 

Just as the stinging in her eyes was beginning to become too much to bear and Amalia could feel her throat beginning to constrict into watery sobs, Elias halted abruptly. Looking up in surprise, she saw they had finally made it to the throne room. They’d finally made it to Yugo. 

Placing a hand against the gates, the guard asked her, “Are you ready, Lady Amalia?”

Scrambling to blink her tears away and to smooth out her clothes and touch up her hair, all in an attempt to present herself as put-together as possible despite her turbulent thoughts, Amalia gave him a resolute nod. 

“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you, Elias.”

With a nod of his own, the young guard opened the gates and welcomed her inside. Entering that room for the first time since she first arrived, Amalia let her gaze wander and reacquaintance itself with what lay inside. 

Supporting the weight of the massive oval dome acting as their roof stood eight malachite columns forming an arch, causing the light filtered through the windows to bathe everything in a greenish blue hue. Each of them were separated by what at first glance looked like large stained glass windows but that, upon closer inspection, one could see were actually portals connecting to the different areas around the island to grant their subjects easier access—something she learned from asking Glip about their own portals located around their classroom. 

Standing on the other side of the room, meant to be the first thing you saw upon opening the doors, was a long staircase connected to the throne. Amalia hadn’t seen many in the relatively short time she’d been alive, but she had to admit the sight was as impressive now as it had been when she first arrived. Sculpted in stone, the back of the throne branched into two large and imposing dragon wings; an actual green-coloured stained glass window depicting the Eliatropes’ emblem—a spiral formed by an Eliatrope baby and a dragon cub—could be seen right between the two wings.

Now that she looked more closely, Amalia could make out six hollowed spaces located at specific spots on the wings, but before she could try and discern what they truly were, she was brought back to the present by her heart skipping a beat when she accidentally locked eyes with Yugo. 

Heat coming to her cheeks at their brief interaction, she bashfully turned her head away, reprimanding herself on seemingly forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him. Just as she did that, however, her gaze ended up on a mysterious little man instead, the sight causing her to blink in surprise. This time, she had to bring a hand to her chest at the powerful thud resounding in her ribcage at the sight of him. 

She didn’t know how or why, but this man held a lot of power. She could just feel it. 

Yugo’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, and she had to bite down her bottom lip to prevent herself from sighing. She hated how much she missed the sound of his voice.

“Amalia, allow me to introduce you to Master Joris.” He gestured at the man from his throne. “He’s been sent here on behalf of the queen of Bonta.”

Amalia blinked, shocked. Oh, that… That was new. Shaking her head slightly to gather herself up, she curtsied to their guest. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Joris.”

For his part, Joris had to admit that for the first time in a very long time he was left quite stumped. The young lady before him was a true vision of loveliness, with her soft and delicate features, her silky green hair, her doe-like eyes, and her elegant figure. He had a feeling she had to be the most beautiful Sadida he had ever laid his eyes on. The only one he believed could eclipse her beauty was the late Queen Sheran Sharm, whose hand had been the most coveted amongst the nations until she eventually chose to marry King Oakheart. 

Truth be told, the resemblance was uncanny. 

However, perfect as Lady Amalia looked, she was still just a Sadida. Her complete lack of doll-like attributes like stitches or the leafy headband Divine Dolls were known for were proof enough of her utter lack of divinity. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, his manners impeccable even as he feared he was being duped. “Forgive me for being so brazen, my Lady, but His Majesty has informed me of your heritage?”

“My heritage…?” She echoed, not sure where this was going. 

“Indeed. I was told you are Sadida’s eleventh doll.” He explained. “And that you were sent here by the gods?”

Oh, so that was what he meant. Amalia let a small smile grace her features. “That is correct, Master Joris. Father created me to be Yugo’s’ bride.” She stated proudly, completely unaware of the way her declaration had Yugo panicking inside. Okay, he did not mean for that piece of information to slip out. And judging by the way Master Joris’ eyes widened in surprise, there was no way he hadn’t heard her. 

Ignoring the way the Council of Six collectively lost their minds as they tried to figure out how to do damage control of the situation without screaming their lungs out hysterically, Amalia went on, “He says I am his masterpiece.”

Even in the midst of his internal screaming, Yugo couldn’t help but agree with the Leafy God. Amalia was truly a marvel of nature. Regardless of how her sisters had turned out, it was clear the nature god had outdone himself. Which, more often than not, only made his already difficult life harder.

“I am sure Sadida Himself is very proud of the outcome, Your Grace… if what you say it’s true.”

That made her frown, uncertain. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Amalia, but I was sent here to inquire about the sighting of a Sadida woman living on Oma Island alongside the Eliatropes. You see, such a thing could have rather… unfortunate consequences we ought to avoid. Which is why I am here, to make sure there is nothing to worry about.”

“But there isn’t any Sadida woman living on Oma Island…” Amalia muttered, squinting her eyes, uncomprehending. 

“That is what King Yugo said as well, yes.” Joris nodded, before his dark gaze met Amalia’s brown eyes, a small shiver running down her spine at the intensity of his stare. “He explained you’re actually a Divine Doll, but I’m afraid that is something I must verify myself.” Then, raising his palm up, he gestured towards her, “If you don’t mind…”

Despite the rocky state their relationship was in, Amalia found herself staring back at Yugo for guidance. “I don’t understand…”

His heart squeezing in pity at the sight of the doll’s discomfort, Yugo offered, “I believe Master Joris is trying to ask you for some proof that you are indeed a Divine Doll, Amalia.” His voice was so soft and reassuring he surprised even himself.

He tried to ignore the way his siblings exchanged knowing glances as they gestured at him with their heads.

Again, Amalia blinked, only this time she was more surprised at the simplicity of the answer. “Oh, really?” She asked, turning back to the emissary for confirmation.

“If it’s not too much trouble, my Lady…”

While Master Joris remained as stoic and alert as always, his hands behind his back as he awaited for Amalia to prove her identity, the Eliatropes and their dragons braced themselves. Adamaï in particular snapped his mouth tightly shut. They were already used to the doll’s demonstrations of divine power and were half expecting some kind of mystical wind to pick up at any given time and scoop Amalia up while leaving a mess of leaves or flower petals in its wake. 

In fact, they were so ready for some kind of chaos to ensue they couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved when Amalia disappeared behind a harmless puff of smoke instead. Both the Council of Six and Master Joris could only look on, perplexed, as a small brown and green rag doll emerged from the puff of smoke and walked over to Bonta’s emissary. 

As soon as they were just a few inches apart, Amalia smiled up at a speechless Master Joris before bowing down deeply. “As I said, my name is Amalia, Master Joris. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. I hope this is enough to prove my identity.”

For his part, Joris just… stared, almost unblinkingly. Okay, even he had to admit this was new. On the bright side, it also proved that Lady Amalia was definitely one of Sadida’s dolls. 

Snapping out of his trance, he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. He returned Amalia’s bow with a small one of his own. “It is more than enough, my Lady. My apologies for doubting you.”

“I trust this is enough to assuage your queen and the other nations’ concerns?” Yugo stated, his demeanour outwardly calm despite the undercurrent of powerful emotions running below his skin. He didn’t even have to look to know his siblings shared the same fears: the last thing their people needed was another war for their right to exist. 

Which is why a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders when Master Joris nodded in response. “Rest assured, Your Majesty. This should be enough to put our rulers at ease.” But just as Yugo and his siblings were about to release a sigh of relief, the emissary’s next words caused them to stiffen up again, “However, I hope you will understand I must inform them of Lady Amalia’s true nature. This kind of development, Sire, is… It’s truly astounding for our people, you see.”

“I understand.” The Eliatrope barely suppressed the urge to groan and rub his face in aggravation. Still, there was something he had to ask. “But do tell me, Master Joris, will this affect my people and our relationship with your leaders in any way?”

“All I can say for certain, King Yugo, is that they will surely grow interested. As I said, Lady Amalia’s presence is a very serious matter.”

“Do you mean my presence might cause problems?” Amalia inquired with a worried hand to her chest, her doll-like appearance only showcasing the vulnerability she was displaying at that moment. She had mostly remained silent during the two men’s exchange, but her worries had spiked up at the thought of causing trouble for the Eliatropes. 

Distantly, Yugo couldn’t help but notice it was kind of adorable… Before realising what he was thinking and forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand with a shake of his head.

Master Joris was quick to raise his hands in a placating manner. “Oh, no, my Lady. It’s not that. Trust me, no Twelvian would be foolish enough to try anything against one of Sadida’s dolls.” From the corner of his eye, Yugo could see Nora releasing a sigh of relief at that. He honestly felt the same way, as it meant their people should be safe as long as Amalia was with them. His eyes flickered back to the ambassador when the Bontarian added, “Although I should probably warn you your presence will warrant their interest in you. Expect more news from Bonta in the near future.” He told that last part to Yugo, turning to meet him directly in the eye. 

“We will, Master Joris. Thank you for your visit.” It’s what he said, but deep down Yugo was far too occupied begging Eliatrope to let this be a one-time thing. 

And thus, with one last polite bow to both the king and his bride, Master Joris picked his backpack up and, under everyone’s astounded gaze, disappeared in the blink of an eye, a gust of wind the only indication he had ever been there. 

“Okay, I think it’s high time I said what’s on everyone’s minds”, Chibi spoke up for the first time since they met their unexpected guest, gesturing wildly at the space he had just occupied, “What in the Great Goddess’ name was that guy?!”

While his siblings shared their theories on the mysterious little man that had just turned their world upside down, Yugo’s eyes fleetingly met Amalia’s, before the two of them averted their gazes as quickly as if they’d been burned, a flush on their cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by Adamaï.

.........................................................................................................................

Sure enough, just as Master Joris had promised, barely a week after his surprise visit, a Cra-crafted magic arrow drove itself into a wall, startling them all. To say Glip almost had a heart attack as he saw it pass right under his nose, literally, would be an understatement. With class cancelled that day due to the sudden fright, the Council of Six met up once again for an urgent meeting, apprehension behind their every move as they all gathered around their king to discover the contents of the letter. 

Unsurprisingly, it was a letter from Master Joris informing them of Queen Astra and the other rulers’ reaction upon discovering they harboured Sadida’s youngest daughter. Surprisingly—and by that they meant shockingly, astonishingly, heart-attack-worthily—, the World of Twelve’s different nations had convened amongst themselves and reached the decision to extend the Eliatropes an invitation to Bonta, where they would all meet up in a banquet meant to celebrate such wondrous occasion. 

All they asked of the Eliatropes in return was that both King Yugo and Lady Amalia were present. Beyond that, any other member of their ruling class was welcomed to attend as well. 

Once they got over their initial shock and excitement over what that could mean to their people, the most cautious members of the Council—namely, Mina, Phaeris, Chibi, and Grougaloragran—warned them they had to be careful. As great an opportunity as it was, they could not let their guards down, therefore, it would be wise if some members stayed behind to oversee and protect their kingdom in case of an attack or an emergency. 

They all agreed wholeheartedly with that. Not surprisingly, Efrim was the first to volunteer to stay behind, and Yugo couldn’t help but feel grateful for that. His youngest brother’s hostile and distrustful nature, especially around Amalia, would not do them any favours with improving their relationship with the Twelvians. And seeing as Glip, Baltazar, and Shinonomé would remain as well and they weren’t exactly battle-oriented, then having the more combat-ready Efrim around was actually the wisest choice. 

As they all discussed how they would proceed and how they would behave at the festivities, Yugo couldn’t help the strangled yelp that escaped his lips when Nora roughly grabbed him by the hood and yanked him down to her eye-level. Her pink eyes glimmered with the utmost seriousness, the kind that she usually reserved solely for battle. 

Struggling out of her grip, he scowled at her. “Nora, what are you doing?!”

But she remained unbothered, her hands on her hips and her face as expressive as a rock. Rather than acknowledge his rightful outburst, she just stated flatly. “You have to summon the Royal tailor. Now.”

The king’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s true it’s been a while since we last donned more formal clothing, but—.”

“It’s not that!” Nora snapped. Giving her brother’s words some thought, though, her hand to her chin, she then admitted. “Alright, that too. After all, we can’t exactly present ourselves to what’s supposed to be a civilised party wearing our battlesuits; we must showcase our people’s own rich heritage and history to the other rulers. But that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?”

Nora actually rubbed her face in frustration, groaning exasperatedly as she went. Each passing day the reason why Yugo never got married was less of a mystery and more of a foregone conclusion. 

“Amalia, Yugo. I mean Amalia! The Twelvians think she’s your bride, meaning she will be our queen!” She hissed, causing her brother to flinch at her outburst. “If we want to show them we are serious about coexisting peacefully, we must show them Amalia is one of us so they'll have no chance to try and drive us away!”

Just as she finished her little spiel, she brought a hand behind her back and opened a portal. Sticking her hand inside, she flicked Efrim in the back as a warning to keep his mouth shut. Knowing him, no doubt he was about to protest and insist the Sadida Doll was definitely not one of them.

“Nora is right.” Shinonomé agreed, coming to stand by her sister as she stared directly into her king’s eyes. “As impressive as Amalia’s shapeshifting can be, I highly doubt she’ll be able to replicate our traditional ceremonial clothing. She needs a professional’s help.”

“Grougaloragran would appreciate a new ceremonial tunic as well.” The black dragon piped up, though he shrank a little into himself at the unimpressed glances his siblings were sending him. Feeling a little bashful, he rushed out to say, “That and we should show the Twelvians we are taking this invitation seriously. We must look the part.”

Yugo could only look back and forth between his siblings in disbelief, his mouth agape. Groaning quietly to himself, a hand to his temple to soothe his rapidly impending headache, he couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes his siblings were impossible. 

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” He exclaimed loud enough for them to hear. After a short while of him gesturing wildly at them, their heads finally snapped to look back at their king, expectantly. “Have you all forgotten already?! Despite what Master Joris and the Twelvians seem to believe, Amalia is not my bride! I’ll have to clear up any misunderstandings at the celebration before they can cause any trouble!”

“Well, duh.” Phaeris chimed in, shrugging. Yugo could feel himself staring owlishly at the turquoise dragon; that had to be the least dignified reaction he’d seen of him in the several centuries they’d been alive during their current reincarnation. 

Unperturbed by his king’s stare, the dragon went on, as if what he was about to say were common sense, “It is important we explain the situation with Lady Amalia, it’s true. Otherwise, they might accuse us of lying to serve our own purposes.”

Some of the tension left Yugo’s body. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Phaeris.”

But Phaeris wasn’t done. “But, as Nora pointed out, it is also imperative we make it clear that Lady Amalia is with us, lest we risk being deemed as undeserving by the other nations and they try to take her away.”

“Which would then rob us of any immunity Lady Amalia’s presence might grant us by virtue of her being a Divine Doll.” Mina finished for him, sharing a meaningful nod with her twin. 

“In other words, you’d better summon the Royal tailor as soon as possible, Yugo. We’re going shopping!” Nora announced, throwing one hand in the air in celebration. Truth be told, the tone of her voice sounded more like she was just looking forward to getting some new clothing, rather than preparing for an extremely important diplomatic mission.

As the rest of the Council murmured in agreement all around him, Mina and Chibi discussing things like the overall design of the outfits they would commission, Yugo eventually gave up with a sigh and a helpless shrug. He arched an eyebrow when Adamaï landed softly by his side, an encouraging grin on his maw. 

“Look on the bright side, Brother. You’ve been thinking about summoning the Royal tailor on Amalia’s behalf for a while now. Now’s your chance.” He winked playfully at him.

Yugo snorted at his brother’s antics. “Oh, Ad. You always know just what to say.” He rolled his eyes, only half-joking.

......................................................................................................................

Lately, the best way Amalia had to describe her life would be by saying each day felt like a tornado passed by and turned it all upside down, swooping her up as it went. One day Yugo summoned her to the throne room where she had to prove her identity to a mysterious little man overflowing with power beyond mortal comprehension, and the next there was a knock on her door she barely had a few seconds to even respond to before a bearded, older-looking Eliatrope came rushing in and started taking her measurements and talking about fabrics, and complementary colours and ball gown shapes and who knew what else.

Amalia was convinced not even her father had pricked her with a needle as many times as this man—the Royal tailor, apparently—had when he was sewing her up. And she was a doll Sadida made from scratch!

Now, despite her limited time on the World of Twelve, Amalia had to admit she had grown to be quite coquettish. It didn’t take long for her to develop a healthy kind of appreciation for quality clothing and looking one’s best. And when the tailor told her she had been summoned to Bonta alongside the Council of Six, she was more than willing to go along with it and look the part. 

What she wasn’t so appreciative about, however, was spending countless hours still as a statue as she had her measurements taken and her skin pricked by needles. And finding out about said invitation through the tailor and his assistants when it should have been from Yugo was just the last nail on the coffin. Especially when, apparently, the Twelvians expected her to go as Yugo’s plus-one. 

That little son of a weed was starting to really get on her nerves. In fact, Amalia remembered she couldn’t keep her temper from flaring at such revelation, to the point she ended up startling the poor tailor half to death when she stomped on the floor in frustration and her bed shot up to the ceiling in response, the action causing a small tremor to echo around the palace. 

One thing was to avoid her—which was a very hurtful thing to do to a friend in the first place—, but to send literally anyone else to tell her important news, especially when they concerned the two of them? She was starting to get really sick and tired of whatever game Yugo was playing. 

A scoff escaped her lips, which earned her the curious glances of the guards escorting her. But she paid them no mind. She was far too busy wallowing in her own bitterness. She was so angry she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself from groaning in aggravation.

So he wanted to play, huh? Fine, she would play along. She would go to the banquet in Bonta as his partner, play the part, but she was done being the only one always making an effort to get close to each other. So his definition of friendship was to be distant and aloof? Fine. That was exactly how she was gonna be. 

The Sadida Doll had just made up her mind when she was finally led to the palace entrance, where she’d meet up with Yugo and the rest of the attending members of the Council before they all left for Bonta. Despite the large gates leading outside being closed, the doll could still make out the excited chatter coming from the other side. The Royal tailor had been so kind as to inform her they would address their people first before parting for Bonta, hence the location where they would meet up at. 

Fine by her. She had yet to truly meet any non-Primordial Eliatropes beyond the palace staff and the children. 

As she waited for the Council to appear, Amalia took some time to admire her new clothes. In the end, she had to admit she liked her new dress a lot more than she had been expecting she would. 

More importantly, she had been pleasantly surprised to find out she quite enjoyed the simple elegance it conveyed. She wore a modest cream silk dress that reached down to her feet and left her shoulders and arms exposed. Apparently, that colour had been chosen precisely so it would create a nice contrast with her dark skin. The tailor had described it as having a semi-sweetheart neckline and a mermaid skirt, although he insisted it would not impede her mobility and the skirt was specifically designed to flare with her movements. And Amalia had to admit she liked the way it fluttered around her as she walked. 

While primarily white, the dress wasn’t without a touch of colour. A forest green sash was tied around her waist, with the ends hanging from the centre and going all the way down to just above her shins. A golden belt buckle showcasing the Eliatropes’ emblem helped fasten it. And draped around her shoulders was a large, sheer equally green shawl. The fabric was big enough to act almost like a cape. Much like the belt buckle, it was fastened around her neck with a matching golden brooch with their emblem engraved on it. 

As for her hair, for once Amalia wore it almost entirely loose, allowing it to stretch down to its actual length—just below her upper back. A simple high bun held together by a modest headband completed the hairdo. 

Despite how peeved she was feeling at the moment, Amalia had to admit both the Royal tailor and his assistants had done a splendid job. She would have to thank them later. 

Her good mood instantly soured as soon as she registered the familiar flash of blue light from the corner of her eyes. The soft thud! coming from beside her as well as the fact that she could feel someone towering over her was all she needed to know Yugo and his siblings had arrived. 

“Good afternoon, Amalia.”

Wait, that was it? That was all he had to say after so long without even speaking a word to each other? Just a simple greeting? No apology due to how he’d been acting? No further explanation as to what they’d be up against? Didn't he have anything to say about how she looked?!

The Divine Doll grit her teeth and clenched her fist so hard she almost drew blood, trying to restrain herself. She had already decided she wouldn’t let him affect her anymore. Forcing herself to take a calming breath through her nose, she turned to look back at Yugo…and was left frozen on the spot, although she could feel her cheeks grow hot at the sight. 

Much like herself, Yugo had dressed himself up for the occasion. And much to her chagrin, her eyes immediately travelled up and down his body in admiration as her brain struggled to process what was going on. 

While he still wore a blue hooded cloak, this one had more golden details than his usual one, with gold lining up the seams beyond just the hood. Even in her speechless state, a part of Amalia couldn’t help but find it odd that he insisted on covering his head despite going on official business with the other monarchs, although she was oddly relieved and endeared to see it wasn't enough to hide the fact that he’d braided the bangs framing his face. She hated how adorable it looked. Instead of his usual bodysuit, he wore white harem pants and sandals, and while his dark blue fingerless gloves remained, the same couldn’t be said about his sleeves, as he wore an equally blue, sleeveless, high neck top with more golden lining highlighting his pectorals and sides. A silk sash the same colour as his cloak tied to the side of his waist completed the ensemble, joining both halves of his outfit seamlessly.

However, what really caught her eye about the ensemble was how the lack of sleeves brought attention to the weird markings on his arms. They were like spirals going up and down his arms, snaking around his forearms and curling it on themselves on his shoulders and wrists. It was definitely strange, and yet, the weirdest thing of all had to be how those markings looked more like scars, for the skin they covered was of a darker tone as the rest of him. 

She must have been staring a little too hard, for after letting out what sounded like an awkward cough, Yugo eventually explained. “These are ceremonial Wakfung tattoos.” He gestured at them. “It’s not customary for Eliatropes to get them—if you look closely, you’ll see none of my siblings have them—, but I find they help to better project and manipulate wakfu. Ad has them too, though only in his true dragon form.”

Blinking slowly in surprise—partly at the information and partly because that was the longest he’d spoken to her in a while—, Amalia finally turned her focus back at the remaining members of the Council of Six. Sure enough, not only did they not have the same markings as Yugo on their skin, but they also wore similar clothes to him, even if they shared the same colour palette as their regular outfits or had little details that helped them to stand out. For example, Nora wore a bandana around her neck, no doubt meant to act like her usual mask; and Chibi had pieces of gold scattered all over his clothes; Mina was the only one beside herself to wear a dress, and her hat was more elaborate than usual, with even more details embroidered onto it; and Qilby… Well, he looked marginally less haggard than normal. 

Adamaï, Grougaloragran, and Phaeris, however, looked the same except for Grougal’s tunic looking a little more regal. Amalia supposed it made sense; as dragons they didn’t have much use for clothing in the first place. 

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she couldn’t stifle the gasp that let her mouth when Yugo interlocked their arms, the crook of her arm coming to rest against his. She was so startled by the action she almost forgot to be angry at him. But she recovered just in time to discreetly puff out her cheeks in annoyance. 

“Are you ready, Amalia?” He asked, and for a moment she hated how genuinely concerned he sounded. But she was not going to fall for his fake pleasantries again. 

Her tone was flat when she answered, “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Before Yugo had time to dwell on the apparent lack of her usual excitement, Chibi turned to address the guards standing by the door. “Open the gates.”

“Yes, sir!” With their customary greeting, they pulled the rope that served to open the large doors, giving way to the excited crowd outside as they cheered and celebrated their leaders. 

“Long live the Council of Six! Long live King Yugo!”

“May the Great Goddess be with you!”

“All hail our leaders!”

After a few more minutes of cheering and applause, Yugo raised his hand as a silent request for his subjects to quiet down. Seeing the gesture, little by little, the noise around them died down, the Eliatropes present waiting for their king to speak. 

Yugo allowed a reassuring smile to tug at the corner of his lips. “My beloved people, as you all know, we have been granted a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prove our intentions are pure to the natives of this world. It is our duty, as your leaders, not to let you down.”

“Today we will be travelling to Bonta,” Chibi continued, his tone measured and collected. Amalia was sure that had to be the most serious she ever heard him. “From what we’ve gathered, the city is one of the most prosperous and powerful nations in all of the World of Twelve. And such, it is imperative we leave a lasting impression on them, for this could be the first step into receiving their blessing to live alongside the Twelvians.”

“We promise to both gather information regarding our neighbours and to prove our own worth as a kingdom.” Qilby added, adjusting his glasses with one finger. 

“Hopefully, by the time this is over, we will have earned their respect and will be one step closer to finally earning their trust.” Nora went on, her pink gaze betraying her hopes for what the night might entail.

As the members of the Council kept on talking and assuring their people they would do everything in their power to bridge the gap between Twelvians and Eliatropes—something Amalia still didn’t fully understand but no one bothered to tell her about—, the Divine Doll felt a hand tugging at the skirt of her dress. Blinking in surprise, she looked down and found herself face-to-face with a beaming little girl. 

She remembered her from class, her name was Camilla and she was very shy but very sweet once you got to know her. Which was why it was such a shock that she seemed to have overcome her shyness to hand a flower to her, a small blush on her cheeks.

Oh. That explained the little prick of pain she felt earlier.

Allowing her first genuine smile of the day to grace her features, Amalia leaned down and gracefully took the flower from the girl’s hands and placed it at the base of her bun. And with that, little Camilla beamed up at the Sadida Doll once more before going back to her parents. 

It was at that moment that Amalia realised things had got oddly quiet. Looking back at the crowd, she almost flinched upon realising they were all staring back at her. Her second mistake was subconsciously glancing at Yugo for answers, the sight causing her chest to constrict almost painfully.

The way the Eliatrope King was looking at her—his eyes glimmering with fondness and an unfairly adorable grin on his lips—was as soft as butter. Despite the way her heart skipped a beat, a part of Amalia wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, not when he had spent weeks avoiding her like the plague. It was simply unfair.

What he said next almost brought her to tears. 

“I would like to thank Amalia especially for making all of this possible.” He said, and the doll couldn’t decide between swooning at his words or smack him on the back of his head with a vine. “Without her, who knows how long it would have taken the other nations to express an interest in getting to know us.”

“Long live Lady Amalia!” The Eliatropes gathered exclaimed almost in perfect unison. 

In spite of her turbulent emotions, the green-haired beauty had to admit it felt rather nice to have your name chanted like that. 

Just then, Qilby stepped forward, holding several glass bottles in his hands. He took one and raised it high above for all to see. “These potions were sent to us by the ambassador of Bonta himself. Apparently, they will transport us directly to the palace, where the banquet will take place.” After he said that, he distributed each and every one of them amongst his siblings and the doll. 

As she took hers and stared back at it, Amalia thanked Sadida for their existence. She could not promise her new dress would arrive intact at Bonta had she had to travel through one of Yugo’s portals again. 

Yugo himself spoke next, taking the cap off and raising his own potion up, an action they all soon mimicked. “For our future!” And he gulped down the magic beverage.

“For our future!” The Council repeated, following suit and drinking their own, with Amalia scrambling to do the same. 

And in a literal flash, they were gone.

.................................................................................................................

When her eyes finally adjusted to the change in lighting filtering through her eyelids after drinking the potion, she finally opened her big brown eyes to take it all in. What she saw caused her to let out a gasp of surprise. 

They had been transported into a moderately-sized hexagonal room with white marble walls, royal blue tapestries hanging from some of them while the others held portraits of what she could only assume were relevant figures in Bontarian history. She was inclined to believe they were previous rulers, as they all wore some sort of golden crown with wings. Beyond that, there were potted plants adorning the corners—they were healthy, she could tell, but they would definitely benefit from some actual soil and sunlight. 

“Looks like they’re waiting for us.” Nora piped up, drawing Amalia’s attention with her. 

Her eyes landing where the pink-eyed Eliatrope was staring at, the doll finally took notice of the large royal blue with golden hinged doors right in front of them, the cacophony of voices coming from behind. Amalia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. It felt like all she did lately was wait in front of doors.

“So, how long do we have to wait for?” Chibi asked no one in particular. “Do we just go in or…?”

“Phaeris believes it is customary to wait until one is formally introduced by an announcer. Perhaps that is the case here as well.” The turquoise dragon pointed out. 

“For once we agree, Phaeris.” Qilby murmured, rolling his eyes alongside his dragon sibling upon making eye-contact with each other. With a low scoff, he adjusted his glasses over his nose. “I suggest we wait until we are formally introduced.”

“And what if no one is supposed to introduce us?” Adamaï questioned, an eyebrow raised. 

“Then we wait for Bonta's little errand boy to come find us.” The eldest Eliatrope said dismissively. 

As the others were discussing how and when they should step through the doors to meet the other leaders waiting for them, Amalia was momentarily startled by Yugo placing his hand over the one resting on the crook of his forearm. Even though she knew it was meant to be a polite way to ask for her attention, given his recent behaviour towards her, to the doll it felt more like a loud demand. 

“Amalia, remember how you introduced yourself to Master Joris?” He asked, momentarily taking her aback. Then again, what else was new with this man?

“You mean the first or the second time?” She shot back, trying to keep her voice cool and unaffected. 

“Uh… The second one. When you transformed to prove your identity.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember.” She nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember you told him you’re supposed to be my bride?”

Her eyes widened as realisation finally hit her. Oh. That. She had been so caught up trying to assure Master Joris she truly was a Divine Doll and talking about how her father had created her, she totally forgot about that little detail. More specifically, the fact that she had been told that wouldn’t be happening almost as soon as she stepped foot in Oma. 

She averted her eyes as she shyly pushed her fringe away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that, Yugo. I really wasn’t thinking about that back then.”

“It’s okay, Amalia.” He told her reassuringly, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stop being so good to her if he was only going to go back to ignoring her once this was over. “Don’t worry, I’ll clear up the misunderstanding. But I need you to do something for me. Is that okay?”

“What is it?”

“My people, they… We need this. We need to leave a good impression on this world’s rulers, and you’re our key to achieving that.” He swallowed, as if to give himself some time to gather his thoughts and find the right words to say. His hold on her hand tightened a little. “My siblings and I believe the Twelvians will be more welcoming of our people if they see you’ve become one of us. So even if you’re not my bride, we… I need you to show them that your home is Oma Island, that your presence among us is indeed the gods giving us their blessing to live on their world. Do you think… Do you think you can do that?”

Even though he was in no position to ask any favours of her right now, not after the way he’d treated her lately, or the fact that the way he phrased it made it sound like he himself didn’t believe her being sent to them was meant as a sign of good will from the gods—from her father—, Amalia had to bite down the retort forming on the tip of her tongue. Despite everything, he was right. She still didn’t know what the situation was like between the Eliatropes and the Twelvians, but the more time passed, the more she felt it couldn’t be good. 

Even if no one told her upfront, it was clear to see if you paid close attention. Like the way Yugo insisted she wouldn’t be able to leave the island even when she was allowed to explore with him by her side. Or the children’s wistful sighs and longing looks at the thought of playing outside of Oma’s confines. Or the way the entire Council and palace staff seemed on edge as soon as Master Joris arrived. 

Whatever the reason, this was important to all of them. And she couldn’t risk jeopardising it just because she was mad at Yugo. 

So with a sigh and a heavy heart, yet feeling determined by her choice, Amalia gently squeezed his hand back. “Rest assured, Yugo. You and your people have welcomed me to your kingdom, and now I shall honour our agreement. You can count on me.”

If the king noticed the way she was back to talking in an overly formal manner with him after so long, he didn’t show. Instead, he just smiled down at the doll. “Thank you, Amalia. Really, it means a lot.”

Not trusting her own voice, the Sadida Doll limited herself to nodding. 

Finally, it looked as if Phaeris’ prediction had been right, because they were all brought back to the present by the sound of trumpets being played coming from the other side of the doors. Then, as they all took positions to present themselves as composed and regally as possible, a nasally voice announced, “Presenting King Yugo of the Eliatropes and Lady Amalia, accompanied by the distinguished members of the Council of Six Adamaï, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, Phaeris, Nora, and Qilby.”

“Why do I gotta go last? I’m the eldest!” She heard Qilby grumble to himself, before he let out a little, outraged huff. 

No sooner was the announcer done speaking, did the gates open up, bathing the waiting room in the bright lights coming from the incredibly vast ballroom, a cacophony of voices echoing around the walls as they all took their visitors in. 

As they made their way inside, his hold on Amalia tight but not too much as to not risk hurting her, for he feared the Twelvians would try to separate her from him—from them!—, Yugo wasted no time scanning the room. Many of the people present he recognised from their botched attempt at introducing themselves, when they accidentally crashed a meeting between the world’s leaders, but many others he did not remember. While most of the guests appeared to be Bontarians, many others had more defined races, which suggested they belonged to their respective ruler’s entourage. 

Or maybe Bonta was that much of a cosmopolitan and multiethnic area. That, he didn’t know.

For her part, Amalia was enraptured at the prospect of finally meeting the gods’ followers. As her eyes travelled around the space in search of her father’s people—in search of her people—, she could finally see for herself how, indeed, a god’s worshippers inherited some key aspects from their deity. 

Eniripsa’s followers shared their patron goddess’ delicate features and fairy-like wings, all of them traits that underlaid their unparalleled skill at tending to the ill and wounded without even batting an eyelash. She had trouble understanding why Fecas had blue hair while their goddess was a dark brunette, but the golden, horned armour some of them wore was unmistakable. Cra had inherited their goddess’ golden hair, pointy ears, and poise, even if Amalia had to admit the older woman who seemed to act as their leader hadn’t exactly inherited the same astonishing beauty as her father’s dear friend. 

While, oddly enough, female Sram were pretty much regular, masked women, it was plain to see their god’s skull-like features through his male followers. All Ecaflips present seemed to replicate their god’s feline grace, and the way she could spot several of them playing card games around the room made their connection to the feline deity of chance all the clearer. 

As their group slowly made their way to the centre of the room, where a portly woman with golden skin, short platinum blond hair and covered by a blue mink cape stood alongside a much taller, dark-skinned woman with much narrower features—the familiar crowns on their heads hinting at their true position as Bonta’s rulers—, the sight of Master Joris by their side brought a relieved smile to Amalia’s features. 

To be honest, she was glad to see a familiar face. Especially after catching sight of what she could only assume was the Osamodas royal family. Besides their blue skin and moorg-like ears and horns, the reason she could easily pinpoint their loyalty to the beast god was the fact that she got the exact same feeling she experienced when she had been first introduced to their patron god. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Although she had to admit her eyes lingered for a moment longer on what appeared to be the eldest daughter, as her clothing was closer to something she herself would wear—although a lot tackier—compared to the feathered robes the members of her family donned. But even that did nothing to soothe her nerves as her cold, calculating red eyes seemed to scrutinise her. 

She sent a quick prayer to her father so they wouldn’t have to interact. 

Almost as if Sadida himself had heard his youngest daughter’s plea and sought to offer some comfort, Amalia’s whole face lit up in excitement when she finally took notice of the small entourage standing close to the Bonta rulers. The strong sense of kinship that enveloped her let her know she’d just found exactly what she’d been looking for: the Sadida royal family. 

It seemed to be composed of a father and son duo, the few remaining men by their side appeared to be on high alert, which implied they were actually some high ranking officials rather than royals. Through them, the Divine Doll could see some key aspects that immediately reminded her of her father. Beyond standing taller than most other races, their skin was also considerably darker—unless you counted Twelvians whose gods had blue skin, like Osamodas and Sram, of course—, not unlike tree bark. Their clothing, heavily inspired by the vegetation they surely surrounded themselves with, was also a clear indicator of where their faith laid. However, the biggest indicator was their head and hair. Even though they didn’t wear masks like Sadida, the men’s faces were entirely covered by their green manes, regardless of how they were styled, clearly acting as a nod to her father’s aversion to showing his true face. 

As they finally arrived right in front of Bonta’s queen—or was it queens?—, Amalia couldn’t wipe the grin off her face at having finally found her people. After weeks of being the only non-Eliatrope or non-dragon on Oma, it was extremely pleasant to find more people like her. 

Her gaze flickered back up to the women standing before them when one of them cleared her throat. It was the shortest one. 

“Greetings, King Yugo of the Eliatropes and honourable members of the Council of Six. We are immensely honoured by your presence.” Amalia almost flinched when her golden eyes landed on her. “And especially you, Lady Amalia. Your arrival truly is a blessing.”

Not sure what else to do, Amalia simply offered a polite bow of her head. “It is I who is blessed to be here, um…” She trailed off, mortified to realise she had no idea whom she was even addressing. 

Luckily for her, the woman simply let out a thunderous cackle. “Wherever are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself.” With a low chuckle, she stood a little bit taller, her head held up high as she spread her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “I am Queen Astra of Bonta, and by my side is my wife, Queen Selene.” She gestured at the dark-skinned woman. 

The woman, Selene, offered a small nod and a smile of her own, “Pleasure to meet you.”

This time, it was Yugo’s turn to speak, “I believe I speak on behalf of not only my siblings, but the entirety of our people when I say we are truly honoured to be welcomed into your land, Your Majesties.” He made a show of looking around. “And to be given the opportunity to officially meet the World of Twelve’s royal families, too.”

“Trust me, King Yugo. No Twelvian in their right mind would ever want to miss such a momentous occasion. As far as I’m concerned, the only ones who aren’t here are the Brakmarians.” 

Even though her tone was meant to be affable and kind, there was something under the surface that caused the Eliatropes to tense up. They knew they wouldn’t suddenly be welcomed with open arms just because the other nations now knew about Amalia, so they knew better than to lower their guards in the face of a possible sneak attack. The fact that Brakmar chose not to attend the banquet was a bad sign. Maybe there were Twelvians foolish enough to disrespect one of Sadida’s dolls.

Sensing the rising tension, Queen Selene rushed out to clarify. “Please, don’t misunderstand. The only reason they’re not here is because of Bonta and Brakmar’s ongoing rivalry.” She let out an amused chuckle, though it was hard to tell how much of it was real and how much of it was rehearsed. “Truth be told, had the banquet taken place in Brakmar, Astra and I would have most likely sent Master Joris in our stead.”

Their eyebrows raising slightly at that revelation, both Yugo and Amalia flashed questioning glances Master Joris’ way, who limited himself to confirming his queen’s explanation with a silent nod. 

Queen Astra’s imposing voice drew their attention back to her. “But enough of all this pointless chatter, there will be time for that throughout the night. Right now, I’d highly recommend you enjoy yourselves and mingle with the other guests as we wait for dinner to be served. After all, that’s what we’re all gathered here today for.”

“Everyone here is especially interested in hearing more from you, Lady Amalia.” Queen Selene added, a wry smile on her lips. She motioned for them to go. “Let’s not keep them waiting for much longer.”

Thanking and bowing to them one last time, the Eliatrope entourage turned around to make their way to a less crowded area where they could begin strategising on how to best benefit from the night. As they went, everyone gathered went back to their own conversations, almost as if they hadn’t been carefully studying their every move as soon as they stepped into the room. 

Eventually, they stopped near a table overflowing with refreshments and appetisers that stood close to the windows leading to the balcony and a little ways off to the centre of the room, where distinguished gentlemen were beginning to take lovely ladies out for a dance after politely asking. As the music coming from the small orchestra began to play, filling the air with uplifting melodies, couples would move to the beat of the music, their coordinated steps creating a magical choreography that left Amalia breathless even as she remained rooted to the spot. 

The scene brought forth a strong sense of nostalgia with it. Memories of her father and sisters dancing under the moonlight flooding her senses. 

A small voice in the back of her head urged her to ask Yugo to take her dancing, but she quickly dismissed it as a lost cause. He hadn’t even complimented her on how she looked today, there was no way he would ever be willing to dance with her. 

At least she could always watch and dream, she sighed wistfully.

Her focus was momentarily broken from the dancefloor by the sight of a wineglass appearing right in front of her. Her eyes followed the arm holding the glass until she was staring back at Yugo. 

“It’s only fruit punch.” He assured her, twirling the contents of her glass experimentally. “I figured it’d be wiser since we do not know your alcohol tolerance and it wouldn’t be wise to find out at an event like this one.”

The doll had to suppress the urge to sulk and roll her eyes. Of course, he wasn’t looking out for her, but for his people. He couldn’t afford to have her embarrass him on such an important night. A nod was all the acknowledgement he got before she took the beverage from his hand and took a sip. Well, at least it was sweet enough to taste good. 

Yugo couldn’t help the small pit of worry that formed in his stomach at her reaction. Amalia had been acting strange all day. He had honestly expected her to be ecstatic at the idea of leaving the island to attend a party so far away, and yet, her face remained the perfect image of stoicism and indifference throughout. She only allowed for a smile to grace her lips when that little girl handed her the daisy she still wore at the base of her bun. 

Truth be told, such little detail went wonderfully with the rest of her outfit. The little flower combined with her traditional Eliatrope clothing made her stand out among him and his siblings—even if she always did just that on her own. 

She was a beautiful flower amongst Eliatrope’s children. 

But that still didn’t explain her behaviour. He was about to open up his mouth to ask her about it when—

“It is a great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Amalia.” A refined yet smarmy-sounding voice came from in front of them. Yugo didn’t know why, but it made his insides churn. “I must say, you are vastly more beautiful than rumours had me believe.”

Finally, sidestepping other astonished guests who kept murmuring amongst themselves, the origin of the voice revealed itself, causing Yugo to narrow his eyes as he stood a little closer to an unsuspecting Amalia, who could only look on, taken aback. The person who spoke seemed to be a man, and while that would have been the logical conclusion judging solely from his voice, the presence of his broad shoulders and narrow waist confirmed the king’s suspicions. 

The feeling of dread that overtook his whole being only intensified the longer he stared at the man. Truth was, whoever this person was, he was peculiar, to say the least. For starters, he was unnecessarily overdressed; with his cyan and light blue jumpsuit, white gloves, and brown snow boots. Draped over his shoulders was a white-furred cape that reached down to his lower back. Judging by his brooch and belt buckle and their obvious relation to time, he had to be a Xelor. And yet, none of that explained the fact that he was wearing winter clothing at a place as warm as Bonta during this time of year. And it certainly didn’t explain why his whole face was encased in ice, two bright, blue round eyes the only thing discernible behind it. 

And the way he addressed Amalia… His hold on his own glass tightened. One thing was for certain: he did not like this man one bit. 

But before the king could so much as send him packing, Amalia finally found her voice. “Oh, um, the pleasure is all mine, Mister…?”

The masked figure chuckled light-heartedly, bringing a hand to his chest. “Of course, how rude of me. Forgive me, my Lady. I am Count Harebourg, ruler of Frigost.”

Wait, count? Frigost? That didn’t sound like any of the territories where the World of Twelve’s leaders resided, let alone the Xelor royal family—whom, with a quick glance to the side, Yugo found standing all the other way from them and away from Harebourg. Then what was he doing here?

Thankfully, before his twin could do anything rash, it was Adamaï who spoke up. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten he was even there in the first place. “And what brings you all the way here, Your Grace?”

If the dragon’s question bothered him, it was impossible to tell with his mask. And yet, Yugo could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered clear as day, making his skin bristle. “Why, to meet the famed Eliatrope Council everyone has been talking so much about, of course.” 

Finally, he leaned forward slightly in a bow, a hand to his chest. But for some reason, the action, polite as it might’ve been, did nothing to endear the guy to Yugo. Things only got worse when he turned his focus back on Amalia, a protective instinct taking over the king as he felt her flinch under the count’s scrutiny. He had to keep himself from scowling. 

“Although I would be lying if I said your presence had no sway over my decision, my Lady. After all, it’s not everyday one gets to meet a Divine Doll such as yourself.” Just as Harebourg reached out his hand to grab Amalia’s, he was stopped in his tracks by the Eliatrope King’s voice, a warning laced with his tone. 

“I believe we would all feel more at ease if you showed your face, Your Grace. I’m afraid your mask is frightening Amalia.”

“Yugo!” The doll hissed, flustered. 

Harebourg himself only let out a low chuckle, his true feelings well-hidden behind his mask. And yet, Yugo could easily make out the tinge of irony in his words. “Says the king who refuses to take his hood off even inside someone else’s home.”

The only thing stopping the Eliatrope from walking right into the Xelor's personal space and pointing a wakfu sword right at his throat, a snarl on his lips, was Adamaï’s steady claw on his shoulders. That, and Amalia's frantic attempts at defusing the situation. 

“You…You really don’t have to take off your mask, Count Harebourg. Yugo… um, he didn’t mean to… It’s just…erm…” 

However, even as she sputtered on, she flashed the king a brief, warning glare that took him slightly aback and took his words away. She hadn’t looked at him like that since the portal fiasco where she ended up throwing up on a nearby bush. And now she was glaring at him over this guy? Really?

Just, what had got into her?

Unbeknownst to the two of them, the count’s skin prickled at the familiarity in the doll’s voice as she addressed the king. Luckily, he managed to mask his feelings well. Instead, he brought his hands behind his back and puffed his chest out. 

“On the contrary, Lady Amalia.” He told her, making her look up at him in surprise. And for a moment, Yugo and Adamaï could only blink in surprise as well, until the Xelor’s next words soured the Eliatrope’s mood further. “While His Majesty could have indeed phrased it better, he is not wrong in pointing out my appearance might be displeasing for you. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Your—.” She trailed off, the words dying in her throat. 

No sooner was Count Harebourg done talking than the ice encasing his head was melted by a series of copper valves all around his neck letting out steam. Under the block of ice, the count’s face was hidden by a metal mask with bright, blue glass eyes that, with a mechanical sound, opened up and stored itself away, revealing the count’s true face. 

While Amalia’s face grew hot and Adamaï’s jaw dropped, Yugo’s blood ran cold. The feeling only got worse when he heard Nora, of all people, let out an appreciative whistle before saying, “Oh, my…”

“Indeed.” Mina concurred, her tone appreciative. All around them, people whispered, with the women’s input being very much positive. 

Much to Yugo’s chagrin, even he had to understand the ladies’ reaction upon the count revealing his true face. The man before them was objectively handsome, with not even the fact that a rather nasty scar on his left eye covered only by a large blue lens taking away from his attractiveness. With his fair skin, squared jaw, icy blue eye and well-trimmed, snow-white hair, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was supposed to be. 

The Eliatrope’s heart throbbed painfully at the awestruck look on Amalia’s face as she stared back at Count Harebourg. The cold dread in his veins was only melted off when Frigost’s ruler was faster than him and took the doll’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. Whatever cold he felt before was quickly being replaced by the burning anger encompassing his entire being at the action. 

He hadn’t even noticed his clenched hands, tight to the point of turning his knuckles white, were crackling with wakfu until Adamaï made him look at him, his eyes shining with worry. Not finding the strength to answer the question in his brother’s gaze, Yugo simply shoved his claw off his shoulder and focused back on the exchange taking place right in front of him. 

“I certainly do hope my true appearance isn’t quite as displeasing as my mask, my Lady.” The count chuckled, his tone light. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it was.”

She didn’t know why, but she actually giggled at his joke, her nose wrinkling adorably as she did so. And it felt like a knife to Yugo’s heart. “Rest assured, Your Grace. I’d be lying if I didn’t say your face isn’t nice to look at.” Just as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened, a furious flush overtaking her features as she registered what she’d just said aloud. 

Yugo couldn’t do much but flicker his eyes back and forth between the two of them, his mouth agape. Were they… were they actually flirting? And right in front of him?!

He started at that train of thought, all his other functions shutting down momentarily. What was it to him? Amalia was his friend and his guest and her presence was key in his people’s future, so it was only natural if he grew protective of her, but she was her own person. If she wanted to flirt with some mask-wearing, one-eyed, aristocratic weirdo, it was her choice! And he had to respect it. 

That still didn’t mean he didn’t have a right to feel his skin bristle at the hungry look Harebourg was regarding her with. Okay, so it was still her choice, but she was also far too innocent and inexperienced to be truly left to her own devices. He’d better keep an eye out. 

Which was another reason why he could hardly contain the smirk from tugging at his lips when Grougaloragran (finally!) intervened. 

“One of the queen’s little attendants has just told Grougaloragran dinner will be served shortly and we should start heading to the banquet hall to be directed at our respective seats.” It was then that the black dragon realised he had actually walked in on something. Tilting his head to the side, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Uh… Is Grougaloragran interrupting anything?”

Before Amalia got a chance to say anything, Yugo beat her to it, his tone far too chipper for it to be genuine. “Nope! In fact, I’d say you’re just in time, Grougal. I’m starving!” He made a show of rubbing his belly to emphasise his point. Not wasting any time, he interlocked arms with the Divine Doll once more and began to all but drag her away in the direction everybody else seemed to be heading towards. 

He threw a dismissive wave over his shoulder and the count’s way. “Lovely talking to you, Count Harebourg. See you after dinner.”

That snapped Amalia,  who until then had been staring at Yugo as if he’d sprouted a second head, out of her disbelief-induced stupor. She quickly turned to look at the Xelor over her shoulder and sent him her own wave. “It was great meeting you, Your Grace. Hopefully we’ll get to talk some more tonight.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes, my Lady! Hopefully you’ll even save me a dance.” He called out to her, before disappearing amidst the throngs of guests making their way towards the banquet hall. 

“Keep dreaming, loverboy.” The Eliatrope king couldn’t help but think spitefully to himself.

By his side, Amalia blinked in surprise at the count’s sudden departure, before her brow hardened into a scowl as she side-eyed her ‘friend’. Just, what was that about? First he told her about how important this night was to him and his people, only to then act like he was just itching to bite the count’s head off like some rabid Bow Wow?

And why? Just because Count Harebourg had been nothing but charming to her even if he was a little weird? Please, it wasn’t like he had any reason to get this mad just because some other guy was paying attention to—.

Her train of thought skidded to a halt, her eyes widening at the realisation. Eyes flickering back and forth between Yugo’s pouting face and the space Count Harebourg had been occupying before vanishing, she couldn’t prevent a little smirk from stretching over her lips. 

Maybe it was time for a little payback. 

........................................................................................................................

“Okay, what was that?” Chibi whispered to his siblings, voicing everyone’s thoughts. 

They were walking a little behind Yugo and Amalia, with enough space between them to be able to talk freely about what they just bore witness to, as long as they weren’t too loud. And by Eliatrope, there were no words to describe what they bore witness to. 

“Pretty sure it was our king about to go off on that count.” Qilby clicked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. He leaned closer to Nora. “I told you his vehement denial of his denial was a bad sign.”

The pink-eyed Eliatrope nodded. 

“Hopefully Yugo will be too busy interacting with the Twelvian rulers to encounter Count Harebourg again.” Phaeris noted, his arms crossed over his chest even as he had to tuck his wings closer to his body just to make sure he didn’t hit anyone as he walked. “We really can’t afford to have them come to blows.”

“Oh, but perhaps that is precisely what we need.” Mina mused aloud, drawing everyone’s startled gazes to her. 

“Are my ears playing tricks on me, or are you actually in favour of our brother nuking it out against the Xelor?” Nora asked, a teasing eyebrow quirked at her sister, who simply chuckled in response, remaining as poised as always. 

“I never said anything about Yugo and the count fighting, now, did I?” 

And with that, she walked ahead of them, her head held up high as she entered the banquet hall and was shown to her seat, leaving her flabbergasted siblings in her wake. 

All of them, but Adamaï, who had a good idea about what his wisest sister might have been talking about instead. And, as he spotted Yugo and Amalia and the stiff atmosphere around them, he had to admit she was probably right once more. 

He turned his head to look at Chibi when the latter clasped his hand on his shoulder and brought him closer. “Okay, Ad. Be real with me, because I feel like I’m missing something. Is it me, or is Yugo—?”

“He very much is, Chibi. Even if he doesn’t realise it himself.”

Chibi hummed in thought. “You know, it’s kinda funny. I’m used to seeing Yugo’s eyes glow blue whenever he taps into more wakfu than usual, but I never expected him to be visited by the green-eyed monster.”

Adamaï sighed. “I suppose that makes three of us, Chibi.”

...............................................................................................................

Dinner would have been a far more pleasant experience if it hadn’t been for Yugo’s noticeably darker mood. Not like he wasn’t good at hiding it. Whenever someone held a conversation with him, he was perfectly cordial and polite, to the point it would have been impossible to tell if something was wrong. But Amalia had been on the receiving end of his hollow kindness long enough to be able to see right through him. And a quick look around his siblings was enough to tell her they knew better too. 

Luckily, Amalia didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as every time her mind would start to wander, someone would address her. A part of the doll was touched at the Twelvians’ devotion and admiration of their gods, seeing as most of the time she would be asked about that person’s specific patron deity and what they were like. Her answer would always be the same, though; she hadn’t really got to talk much with them, but they were all very kind to her.

Once again, she thanked her father for the fact that none of the Osamodas royals were anywhere near her. She really didn’t know how to say ‘He was polite but very unpleasant and I could tell not even his horns were genuine’ to their faces without sounding rude. At the same time, she also felt extremely awkward when she saw the Sadida Crown Prince was seated alongside the Osamodas princess she saw earlier, which meant the reason behind her Sadida-like dress was that they were at the very least betrothed. 

Amalia hadn’t even stepped foot on the Sadida Kingdom and she already feared for her father’s people’s future if an Osamodas was to rule them. 

Regardless of her personal feelings on the horned god and his followers, at the end of the feast Queen Astra had declared they were now free to spend the rest of the night however they pleased. And for a bunch of Eliatropes with a mission, that meant fostering closer relationships with the other royals.

More importantly, in spite of the rocky state her and Yugo’s relationship was in, he had gone out of his way to ask her for help, and Amalia was not petty enough to deny him and his people of an opportunity they had long been waiting for. Regardless of how tired she felt. She honestly didn't know how these people did it. It had only been a few hours of interacting with others and she was already exhausted. 

As much as it saddened her to admit it, she was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to dance after all out of sheer exhaustion.

She was about to follow after him and his siblings as the Eniripsa Queen asked for their presence when Master Joris appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His sudden appearance caused Yugo to halt and stare at him expectantly. 

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he started, his little, black eyes set on the Eliatrope King. “I believe it would be better if Lady Amalia sat this one out.”

Yugo blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

The ambassador raised his hands up placatingly. “I mean no offence, King Yugo. It’s just that there was a time where I was new to this kind of gathering, too.” He looked back at the Sadida Doll, offering her the kindest smile she had ever seen on the little man’s face. “I do not know how you’ve been spending your time on Oma, Your Grace, but I know from experience spending all night talking to dignitaries when you’re not used to it can be quite taxing.”

It was as if Master Joris’ words had forced Amalia to acknowledge for the first time the true depth of her exhaustion. Her feet ached against the cold floor, her cheeks were sore from smiling so much, and even though she had been instilled courtesy from birth, she was beginning to feel like her head would explode if she had to address anybody else as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Honour’, or by any other title one more time. 

But she knew what her role was. Her presence was important to the Council, so she couldn’t just call it a night while they represented their people. She couldn’t do that to them.

Which was why she almost gasped in surprise when Yugo said, “If that is what Amalia needs, fine by me.”

“Are-are you sure, Yugo?” She asked, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort despite herself. 

No. Yugo wasn’t really sure. On the one hand, because the plan was to keep Amalia close in order to showcase to the Twelvians their own gods approved of their presence on their world and, more importantly, to keep her safe in case this was just a trap to take her away. And on the other hand, because a small part of him spiked up with anxiety at the thought of leaving her alone and for Count Harebourg to find her. He hadn’t been able to move past their brief interaction all evening, the mere memory of it was enough for his expression to cloud over with emotions he himself had trouble deciphering. 

But, as always, one look at Amalia was enough for his resolve to crumble like dust. She looked so tired, so vulnerable. She had been doing an astounding job all evening entertaining those who asked for a moment of her time and making sure to emphasise she had grown quite fond of Oma Island and its inhabitants. Moreover, unlike him and his siblings, who had been born to lead and navigate the world of politics and diplomacy, Amalia was a Divine Doll. Even if her true purpose remained undisclosed, Yugo highly doubted such a marvel of nature was meant to spend her time cooped up around a bunch of stubborn Dracoturkeys like monarchs were known for being. 

Maybe that was why she’d been so weird all day, because she was so out of her element. 

All the more reason to give her some time to relax. She’d more than earned it. 

So he told her as such with a nod and a smile. “I’m positive. Go and take a break, Amalia. We’ll take it from here.” Then, he turned to Bonta’s ambassador. “Master Joris, do you think you could look after her?”

But he just shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I must remain by your side, my King. You see, I’m actually on-duty tonight. But rest assured, I know just what to do.” He pointed at the far side of the room, where an older-looking white Ecaflip and another that was equally old but bald were lounging on a divan, playing cards. “Those are my sons, Kerubim and Atcham, my Lady. Go with them. They’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

Amalia could only look on, flabbergasted, but ultimately chose not to say anything. She really couldn’t explain how someone like Master Joris, who seemed to be in his thirties or his forties at most and was of an indiscernible race could be the father of two old Ecaflips, but then again, she wasn’t one to talk. After all, her father was essentially a mask-wearing, humanoid tree, yet all his daughters were either dolls or utterly beautiful young women. 

There was, of course, the fact that he had literally sewn them up himself to be that way, but who was she to judge in the first place?

So with a polite nod as thanks to Master Joris and a grateful smile at Yugo, she turned back to the direction the Bontarian had pointed at and began to make her way between all the guests. Just as she avoided crashing into a laughing Iop, she bumped into somebody else. 

“Oh, my Gods, I’m so sorry.” She rushed out to apologise as she touched up her hair in case it got dishevelled due to the impact. 

“On the contrary, my Lady. It is I who should be apologising.” Responded a cool and collected feminine voice. 

Blinking rapidly to gather her thoughts, Amalia finally allowed herself to pay more attention to the person she collided against. She was a Cra in her twenties, with short platinum hair and vibrant emerald eyes. Just by looking at her the Divine Doll was immediately reminded of her father’s close friend—unlike her people’s matriarch, the woman before her had indeed inherited the Great Huntress’ beauty. 

She might have been staring for a little too long, because the Cra politely clearing her throat snapped her out of her daze. “If you will permit me, Your Grace, I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh! Right. Of course.” No sooner did the words leave Amalia’s mouth that the Cra left her side, disappearing amongst the throngs of people with a grace and ease that sent the Divine Doll reeling. 

Blinking slowly at the woman’s retreating form just before she vanished, Amalia eventually shrugged at her hurried departure. She was probably there as part of her people’s entourage and had to return to her leader’s side. With wayward thoughts about hopefully catching sight of her later in the evening, Amalia focused back on the mission at hand—joining Master Joris’ Ecaflip sons. 

The sound of boisterous laughter and muttered curses after a few more minutes of walking was all the indication she needed to know she had finally arrived. 

“I don’t know why I even bother to play with you. You always cheat!” Accused the hairless Ecaflip, a slight lisp in his voice. 

“Look who’s talking!” The white-haired Ecaflip shot back, offended. “Need I remind you you used to be a Brakmarian assassin? How’s that for playing dirty?”

“Would you just let it go?! That was like two lives ago!”

“It was our last life and you know it! I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking too forward to dying for real yet, so don’t go taking our nine lives away.”

“You are so dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Says the one who flies off the handle whenever Ush visits…” The other scoffed. 

“Don’t say that show-off’s name in my presence!” He hissed. Literally. His hackles rose and he bore his teeth at that. 

“Um, excuse me?”

“What!?” Both of them snapped, flashing furious glares at whoever dared to interrupt their bickering. To say they felt like slapping themselves at the sight of the famous Divine Doll their father had been talking about standing right in front of them, flinching at their outburst, would be an understatement. 

“I…Is it a bad time? Should I leave you two alone…?” Amalia trailed off, more than ready to get the Heck out of there when the Ecaflip brothers scrambled to stop her. 

“No!” The white-haired one exclaimed, before forcing himself to calm down. He tried again, his tone far kinder, almost like a vendor’s. “No, no, no, my dear. It’s quite alright. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Just some old brotherly bickering.” The hairless one waved the whole thing off, his large ears tucked to his head betraying his uneasiness. “I’m Atcham, and the lucky fleabag over there is my brother Kerubim. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kerubim Crépin,” the aforementioned Ecaflip corrected. “But yes, it’s always a pleasure to meet a creature as lovely as you, my Lady.”

That made her giggle, the smile returning to her lips. It was nice to meet someone friendly for a change. “The pleasure is all mine, my name’s Amalia.”

“We know, little lady. Our father has been telling us all about you ever since he met you.” Atcham said, patting the space on the divan beside him and beckoning her closer. Amalia took the seat offered with a smile, careful with her dress. 

“I see. It was him who told me to come with you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, but of course! You have nothing to worry about!” Kerubim assured her, picking up the cards scattered over the table separating him and his brother; he began to shuffle them. “This actually reminds me of my adventuring days.”

“Wait, really? You’re an adventurer?” Amalia leaned forward in her seat, awestruck.

Before Kerubim could get a word in, Atcham corrected, “Was. The most adventurous thing he does now is doing his shop’s inventory and drinking his weight’s worth of bamboo milk.”

His hand coming to rest on top of his necklace—two dice hanging from a rope—, Kerubim grumbled, unamused at his brother’s antics. “Come on, cut me some slack. I’m not getting any younger, you know?”

“I’m only slightly younger than you and I still train every day.” Atcham retorted, not missing a beat. 

At that, Kerubim harrumphed in offence, his arms folding over his chest as he stuck up his nose in distaste. “And yet, I could still beat you any day of the week.” He spat petulantly. 

That got Atcham’s hackles to rise up again, his tail flicking furiously back and forth. Amalia actually had to duck to the side to avoid getting hit by it. “Only because of that ungodly luck of yours, you nepotism-enjoying fleabag!”

Sensing another argument coming, the Divine Doll chose best to intervene, and fast. But mediating between two arguing siblings was easier said and done. She needed to think of something to say that would distract them from each other. But what?

It was then that she caught sight of a waiter balancing a place with several red-tinted glasses. An idea materialising in her mind at the sight. 

“I-I had no idea there were potions that could transport you from one place to another!” She sputtered out, causing both Ecaflips to turn back to her with raised eyebrows at the sudden change of topic. “I can’t even imagine the kind of thing we might have had to do to arrive here if it weren’t for your father sending them to us.”

Exchanging one look, both brothers simply shrugged, reclining back in their divans. The doll fought to urge to sigh in relief. “What can we say? That’s what they’re for.” Kerubim mused. 

“Those potions certainly make travelling long distances easier.” Atcham agreed, before turning his focus back on Amalia. “But I’m sure you guys would have found a way to make it even without them. After all, you have your portals!”

Amalia chose not to comment on how she’d rather have her intestines pulled out rather than go through another Eliatrope portal. It was pretty much the same experience, after all. 

Instead, she said, “I was wondering, how can you get more? You know, out of curiosity.”

But Kerubim and Atcham only shook their heads at her question, their expression regretful. It was Kerubim who spoke. “I’m afraid that isn’t so simple, my dear. Those things are hard to make and even harder to come by, meaning they can be very expensive. Of course, I always try to offer the best possible price to my customers in my shop, but even I can’t really afford to just hand them over either.”

“Which is a pity,” Atcham went on. “Since going anywhere without them can take anywhere from a few days to months, especially if you don’t have mounts like the Cra soldiers or Osamodas do.”

“I see…” That gave Amalia something to think about. So even after all this time the Twelvians hadn’t been able to figure out a better and more accessible way to travel long distances. She was shaken out of her thoughts by the side of a deck of cards being offered to her. 

Looking up, she saw it was Kerubim who held it out for her, a smile on his lips. “Care to play with two old fleabags, my Lady? I must warn you, however; we won’t go easy on you just because you’re a Divine Doll.”

Amalia took the cards with a smile. “I’ve always been curious to find out if what they say about Ecaflips and their luck is true.”

“Oh, in that case you’d better throw in the towel now, my pretty. ‘Cause my brother over here is the luckiest cat on the planet, second only to our father.”

“Your father…?” She raised an eyebrow. Master Joris didn’t strike her as the kind to gamble. 

“Ecaflip.” Both of them answered in unison, and if Amalia had been drinking anything, she would have done a spit take. 

“Your father is Ecaflip?!” She screeched in disbelief. “But I thought it was Master Joris…”

“And he is,” Atcham nodded. “He’s our adoptive father and the one to raise us this current reincarnation.”

“But the Big Tease Himself sired us,” Kerubim finished for him. After a brief pause, he added, “And twenty more children.”

“But that means…” Amalia trailed off, trying to connect the dots even in her disbelieving state. “But that means you’re demigods like me!”

“Why did you think our dad sent you here with us?” Kerubim winked at her with a smirk on his lips. 

Amalia opened her mouth to speak… and promptly closed it again. That actually made sense. However, she had no time to dwell on the implications behind that before a million questions pushed through in her mind. 

“And what’s it like?” She blurted out. When her fellow demigods sent her matching questioning glances, she elaborated. “I mean, being an Ecaflip demigod. I… really haven’t met any before now.”

Their faces lighting up in understanding, the brothers exchanged another glance, this time to decide who should speak. With a gesture from Kerubim, it was Atcham who eventually explained:

“It’s not really that different from being a regular Ecaflip, really.” He shrugged before placing down one of his cards as the game went on. He jabbed a finger his hairy brother’s way, “As I said, this one was especially famous in his prime for being extremely lucky, being Ecaflip’s favourite and all… But other than that, we get a watered-down version of our father’s immortality in the form of nine lives or reincarnations, a place inside the Ecaflip dimension, and not much else, really.”

“Wait, your father plays favourites?” Amalia echoed, aghast. Out of everything the hairless cat had shared with her, her brain had locked in on that particular fact, the concept feeling foreign to her. 

“You bet.” Atcham nodded, while Kerubim tried to be a bit more diplomatic.

“It’s a very common thing among parents, even if they don’t mean to. Although in my case I believe it has to do with the fact that he actually got to ‘raise’ me and grow attached to me, at least, that’s what dad said. It all happened in a past life, you see. And we don’t get to remember those.” He explained, placing his own card down, causing Atcham to click his tongue in distaste as he saw he had the upper hand. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar with your father, my Lady.”

“What? No, never!” Amalia protested, visibly offended. The mere idea was preposterous. “Father has always been nothing but kind and loving towards every single one of us; he would never play favourites.”

As the Divine Doll focused back on her cards—namely to try not to get too demolished playing against two Ecaflip demigods—, the siblings shared knowing glances. They debated whether to tell her or not, but ultimately chose not to.

What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

..................................................................................................................

It had been less than an hour since Amalia went looking for Master Joris’ sons, and they had already established conversation with at least five different rulers. It was still too soon to determine if they were truly welcoming of their people now or not, but at least bridges were beginning to be built. 

The Iops were a boisterous bunch, although Qilby didn’t appreciate how they seemed to have no interest in the overwhelming source of knowledge he provided, or how they insisted on focusing on the seemingly more physically imposing members of their group. Yugo and Adamaï actually had to stop Chibi and Grougal from entertaining their desire for a playful match, knowing their siblings would demolish them. Phaeris had been challenged to a fight too, but he had always been far wiser in choosing his battles. 

All in all, they seemed like perfectly amicable people, and the least likely to be scheming anything behind their backs. If only because they lacked the capacity to come up with long-term plots…

If possible, the Pandawas were even more affable. The only thing bigger than their queen’s size was her generosity. Not even five minutes into the conversation and she had already offered to share her people’s bamboo milk with them. It took a lot of convincing and a very diplomatic approach on Yugo and Adamaï’s part to kindly reject her offer; they really couldn’t afford to be intoxicated while trying to foster positive relationships with the World of Twelve’s natives. 

The Sufokians were… interesting, to say the least. While they remained unfailingly polite throughout the entire conversation, the empress and his son were particularly standoffish. Their every word seemed to convey a hidden meaning, and the Eliatropes couldn’t tell if they simply didn’t hold them in high regard or if, on the contrary, they didn’t value any other nation beyond their own. It was safe to say at first glance they were the least welcoming of them out of everyone they had talked to tonight.

After talking to the Sram and Enutrof royals—and swearing they weren’t after their kamas to the latter—, Joris redirected them back to Queens Astra and Selene; Bonta’s rulers were seemingly engrossed in their own conversation. When the members of the Council arrived to their side, it was Selene who picked up on their presence. 

“Ah, I see you’re making good use of your time by acquainting yourselves with the other world leaders. I trust everything is going smoothly?”

“We could not have asked for more, Your Majesty. We are truly grateful for this opportunity.” Yugo spoke for all of them, the Eliatropes and their dragon siblings bowing politely in unison to show their sincerity. 

“We only regret that the Brakmarians weren’t as willing to give us a chance.” Adamaï added, testing the waters. If he played his cards right, he could use both nations’ rivalry to get into Bonta’s good graces.  

His plan seemed to work, for a smirk drew itself on Astra’s lips. “It can’t be helped, Brakmar has always done their own thing. Such a backwards nation…” She shook her head regretfully, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?” Nora asked, intrigued. 

“Brakmar’s way of doing things clashes immensely with Bonta’s, and not just because both nations were founded by opposing forces.” Selene explained, although she didn’t elaborate on that last nugget of information. “For instance, Brakmar doesn’t allow women to even attend a gobbowl match, let alone play on their team!”

“It is simply barbaric.” Astra agreed with a scoff. 

“Please, forgive my ignorance, my Queens, but what is gobbowl?” Yugo inquired, genuinely curious. Though he was mostly trying to distract the Bontarians from noticing Phaeris and Mina restraining a fuming Nora from going to Brakmar and giving their rulers a piece of her equal-opportunity-opinionated mind. 

“Oh, that’s true. You haven’t been here long enough to learn about it.” Astra said. 

The attending members of the Council of Six collectively chose not to point out that the Twelvians hadn't really allowed them to know more about their culture until less than a week ago. Instead, they focused their attention on Joris as he went on to explain. 

“Gobbowl is the World of Twelve’s most popular sport, played all over the planet, regardless of the nation.” He explained with the same stoicism so characteristic of him. “However, out of all the nations, no one can match Bonta and Brakmar’s love for it.”

“Although, in Brakmar’s case, it’s more fanaticism than love.” Selene pointed out with a sneer. “They hold it in such high regard they even allow their team’s best player to make decisive calls during trials. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe their authority surpasses that of the Prince of Brakmar himself!”

“There’s a match tomorrow, if you’re interested, you can experience it for yourselves. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves immensely.” Astra offered, and that was the most genuine she’d sounded all evening. 

“Thank you kindly, Your Majesty. We’ll think about it.” Yugo replied. “But I believe we should focus first on our diplomatic mission.”

The queens nodded, with Astra motioning for them to follow her. “Of course. There’s actually someone I believe you should meet.” She told them right before leading them somewhere else in the ballroom. 

Yugo immediately understood everything as soon as the monarch stopped, gesturing at the people staring back at them expectantly. “King Yugo, esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council, allow me to introduce you to the Sadida King and Crown Prince; King Oakheart and Prince Armand Sheran Sharm.”

Yugo’s first thought upon finally coming face to face with the representatives of the nature god responsible for the curious little doll living with them had to be that, if Amalia was indiscernible from a regular Sadida woman, then the men got the short end of the stick in the beauty department. 

No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t like male Sadida were ugly per se, it was that it was impossible to tell what they were. Period. The way their hair completely covered their faces did not help matters. Even so, the fact that he couldn’t see their faces didn’t mean he couldn’t sense their aura. 

Even without his wakfu vision, the Eliatrope could feel the sheer power and resilience radiating off their royal family. Just the sight of them was enough for him to fully believe their patron god had played a key role in creating the world they all now lived in. 

Out of the father and son duo, Prince Armand was the most conventionally attractive, even if he wasn’t exempt from his dreadlocked bangs hiding his face from view. What little the Eliatrope King could see of his face, he seemed to possess a squared, chiselled jaw that went alongside his cultivated physique. The fact that he essentially paraded said physique for all to see also helped bring attention to his sculpted body. 

Judging by the way all Sadida present dressed, that is to say, scarcely so, it was clear to see Amalia’s fondness for showing some skin—and going barefoot—was a cultural thing. It was even more shocking to realise Amalia’s fashion choices were actually quite modest in comparison. In fact, Yugo didn’t know what to do with himself at that revelation. His poor heart certainly wouldn’t be able to take it.

If Prince Armand was tall, around Yugo’s own height, that was nothing compared to his father. King Oakheart seemed to be even slightly taller than Adamaï, horns included. He wasn’t as conventionally attractive as his son, with his girth being considerably greater to go along with his height, and his (facial?) hair was far more dishevelled than his son’s well-trimmed do, but his eyes still radiated the kind of wisdom and strength only a true leader could possess. 

Yugo was sure he’d been alive far longer than any other person in this ballroom, and he still could only hope to one day transmit the same energy as the Sadida King did with just his gaze. 

However, regardless of the respect they were due because of their position, more importantly, they were Amalia’s people. If there was someone whose good graces they needed to be in, that was them. 

Which was why Yugo actually went down on one knee as he greeted them, his siblings following suit shortly after. “It is an immense honour to make your acquaintance, oh, powerful Sadida.”

“It is good to finally meet under better circumstances.” Armand commented, and Yugo could feel a chill running down his spine at the tone he used. Surely he couldn’t be talking about…

“It’s all fallen leaves, now, Armand.” The king lightly chided his son, his eyes glinting in warning. His expression turned kinder as he settled his eyes back on the Eliatropes. “Please, forgive my son, King Yugo. As you know, a king can never be too cautious, although his distrusting nature can have its own undesirable consequences.”

Privately, Yugo couldn’t help but think Prince Armand and Efrim actually had a lot in common.

“There is nothing to forgive, for you speak the truth.” Yugo said as he rose from his bowed down position, choosing to remain cordial. “But I must agree with the prince, it is great to finally be able to interact under much better circumstances.”

King Oakheart tossed his head back and let out a thunderous laugh. “Indeed, indeed. And what better circumstances than getting to meet Sadida’s eleventh doll? Her birth alone is a momentous occasion for our people.”

“I can only imagine, my King.” Yugo nodded. 

Armand made a show of looking around. “And where is this famed eleventh Divine Doll? I expected her to be a part of your entourage.”

“Armand…” His father warned him, far too familiar with his son’s abrasive and distrusting nature. 

But Yugo just let it all wash over him, his smile unfaltering. “Seeing as she is not used to such gatherings, Amalia seemed exhausted. So, as per Master Joris’ suggestion, I told her to rest a little alongside his sons.”

When father and son looked down at the ambassador for confirmation, their worries were put to rest by the nod of his head. 

“How gracious of you, King Yugo.” Armand said kindly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the slight sarcasm that dripped from his words. “It’s such a relief to see you take such good care of your bride.”

Just like it did every time any other leader mentioned the same thing, hearing the word ‘bride’ was enough for Yugo to flinch uncomfortably, an action he tried to cover up by clearing his throat. It also caused his siblings to discreetly roll their eyes at how obvious he was being. “While I thank you for your kind words, Prince Armand, it’s hardly anything to write home about. After all, being mindful of how someone’s feeling is just basic decency.”

“Indeed.” The Sadida prince concurred. 

“However, there is a correction I wish to make.”

That got their attention. After exchanging a look with his son, King Oakheart urged him to continue. “Do tell.”

Much like he’d done every time this same conversation took place, Yugo took a deep breath through his nose and prayed his mother would have mercy on him. While admitting to this was meant precisely to avoid future conflicts with the Twelvians, admitting it at all could also lead to trouble. For now, they could only hope for the best. 

“The thing is…” He started, hoping beyond hope the Sadidas wouldn’t take this as a declaration of war or something of the sort. “While Amalia was certainly sent to us for the purpose of becoming my bride, I must admit that is not the case. There is nothing between us beyond a close friendship.”

“Is that so?” The king raised an eyebrow, but because he could get another word in, the Eliatrope rushed in to clarify. 

“Do not misunderstand, please. My people and I are extremely grateful to have been blessed with such an honour as it is to have been sent a Divine Doll, it is simply that I—our people aren’t in need of a queen, and I would hate for Amalia to feel trapped fulfilling a role that cannot guarantee her happiness.

“Rest assured, however, we are doing everything in our power to ensure she feels welcomed and at home at all times.” He did not need to turn around to sense his siblings sending Nora meaningful glances, their younger sister dutifully keeping her mouth shut for once. Mina in particular had a hand over her shoulder in warning.

The Sadida royals could only blink in surprise at that, not sure what else to say. Finally, after an awkward pause, the king cleared his throat as he straightened himself up, Prince Armand mimicking his actions. 

“That is… quite alright, King Yugo.” Oakheart said, not sure where to even begin. “As my son will be able to tell you, we know how challenging it can be to make someone that’s not from the same culture as you feel welcome alongside your own.”

For once, Armand seemed to agree. “Indeed. My wife, Aurora, is an Osamodas princess. It certainly took a while for us to find more common ground once we got married. It certainly helped when she developed a fondness for our haute couture.” He revealed with unmistakable fondness in his voice. 

Yugo almost shuddered upon realising the emotionless Osamodas woman with the bangs covering half her face was the prince’s consort. Was it too bad to hope she wasn’t around whenever he had to interact with her in-laws?

“Nevertheless,” King Oakheart’s hearty voice broke him out of his musings. “We certainly hope you eventually get to introduce Lady Amalia to us. Her existence truly is a blessing for our people.”

Sharing knowing looks with Adamaï, Yugo allowed a genuine smile to grace his features. 

“Of course. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

....................................................................................................................

Amalia was having a blast with Kerubim and Atcham. Granted, she hadn't won a single game, but getting to witness the two siblings bickering over the pettiest things was unendingly entertaining. She might have lost every single round, but she’d been laughing heartily almost the entire time she spent with them. 

“I’m telling you, she kissed me as thanks for helping her!” Kerubim insisted for the fortieth time since the conversation began. 

Atcham simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The white-haired Ecaflip pouted. “Why don’t you ever believe me about this sort of thing?”

“Because there’s no reason why a young, beautiful lady like the one you’re describing would ever kiss an old fleabag like yourself, gratitude be darned!” He slammed his cards hard against the table, tired of always hearing the same old song and dance. “If you told me this all happened back when you were still young, maybe I would believe you, but at your age?” He let out a loud, sarcastic cackle before turning his focus back on his cards. “Keep dreaming.”

“It’s still more believable than you losing to Ush because he keeps attacking you whenever you’re distracted…” Kerubim grumbled to himself. When he realised what he’d just said, though, it was already too late. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to utter that black cat’s name in my presence?!” The hairless Ecaflip bellowed. Even from where Amalia was sitting, it looked as if the vein in his forehead was about to pop. 

As Atcham threw himself at his brother and the two of them began to roughhouse, Amalia, who had long given up on playing against them, simply leaned back on the divan, an eyebrow raised. Already used to the old Ecaflips’ childish shenanigans, she remained unflappable as they fought. But she was curious as to what they even argued about.

“Who’s Ush?” She asked, causing the brothers to halt mid-fight. 

Knowing better than to be rude to a lady, the two of them broke away from each other’s hold and dusted themselves off. With a clearing of his throat, it was Kerubim who explained. “Ush Galesh is another one of Ecaflip’s demigod sons, my dear.”

“Oh, so he’s your brother?”

Atcham scoffed at the mere thought. “In name only. Not only is he from another litter, but he’s got the emotional maturity of a teenager. And the arrogance to match.”

While the doll blinked, not sure what to make of it all, Kerubim elaborated on, “Remember what we told you about our father playing favourites, my dear?” Amalia nodded. “Well, Ush never really took not being his favourite well. Even if he claims to hate our father, it’s plain to see he’s just resentful and envious because he doesn’t hold that place in his heart.

“Now, if there’s one thing Atcham is right about is the fact that Ush never really matured. He takes his anger out on anyone who crosses him and, rather than rely on his natural luck and skill as an Ecaflip, he always makes sure to have the upper-hand whenever he faces an opponent.”

“The upper-hand…?” Amalia tilted her head in confusion. 

“He cheats. At everything.” Atcham told her bluntly. Then, he sent his brother a pointed look, as if daring him to contradict him, “Including our fights.”

Kerubim chose to keep his mouth shut for once.

“I see...” Amalia eventually spoke up, rubbing her arm uneasily. “Then it’s no wonder you don’t like hearing about him.” 

Kerubim just shrugged. “It is what it is, my dear. Not all siblings will get along just because they’re blood related. Sometimes families are torn apart by internal factors and everyone is much happier on their own.”

That gave Amalia pause, her expression dimming. Truth be told, she hadn’t quite got over what they said about parents playing favourites, or how that applied even to her father. Would that happen to her family? Was it possible that Sadida played favourites or treated some of his daughters better than the rest and that might cause them to drift apart?

She was his youngest daughter and his masterpiece, according to the Leafy God Himself. Did that make her one of his favourites or…?

Sensing they put the very Divine Doll they were supposed to be looking after on edge, Kerubim and Atcham exchanged panicked glances. What would people think if they found out they made a Sadida Doll cry? They would be branded as worse than some of the most despicable criminals to roam the face of the planet!

People would stop coming to the shop!

As they were running out of ideas on how to cheer Amalia up, Kerubim blurted out, “Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

That seemed to do the trick, for Amalia’s head snapped up at them and she regarded them curiously. “What?”

“Would you like something to drink?” He repeated, making good use of his vendor’s voice. “It’s been a long night. I’m sure you could use something to quench your thirst.”

Now that he mentioned it, Amalia was feeling quite parched. Something to drink should do her some good. “I actually rather enjoyed some very nice fruit punch from the food table right before we were summoned to dinner. Do you think you could get me a glass of that?” She asked them politely with a smile. 

“One glass of fruit punch coming right up!” Both siblings immediately sprang into action, giving her military salutes before turning around and heading over to the refreshments table. 

As Amalia watched them go, amused, she almost jumped right out of her skin when a suave voice whispered in her ear, “I thought they’d never leave.”

Whirling around in surprise, her eyes widened in shock at the person standing before her. 

“Count Harebourg.” She gasped. 

“Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, a grin on his face. “I was wondering if you would be interested in granting me that dance?”

Amalia actually hesitated. While it was true she longed to go to the dancefloor and that she had been pleasantly surprised by how the count truly looked, she couldn’t quite get over the feeling she got around him. More specifically, the feeling that emanated from Yugo. 

Even though she came to understand the king’s uncharacteristically hostile behaviour came from the fact that the Xelor was paying attention to her, she still didn’t understand what caused it exactly. After all, her main purpose for tonight was to have people paying attention to her, and he hadn’t been anywhere near as angry when others interacted with her throughout the evening. So why did he act like that around Count Harebourg?

There was also the fact that the count himself emanated a dangerous kind of energy. She didn’t know why, but despite Harebourg’s sweet words and kind compliments, the doll couldn’t bring herself to be truly comfortable around him. 

She was about to turn him down when her eyes instinctively searched for Yugo, worried about his reaction. What she saw instead made her grit her teeth in distaste. 

Standing all the way from over the other side of the room, yet drawing her eye like a beacon of light inside a dark space, was the Eliatrope King. And he wasn’t alone. Beside him was the Eniripsa Queen, quite the buxom beauty who kept inspecting the muscles and tattoos on his exposed arms with keen interest. And all Yugo could do in response was flush furiously and sheepishly while making no attempt at wriggling himself free from her grasp. 

Amalia’s irritation flared at the scene. So there she was, worrying about his feelings over seeing her with the count while he let whoever roam their hands all over his body. But again, what else was new? Just like she’d been trying to reach out to him and grow closer, he had been doing everything in his power to avoid her. He only started treating him decently now because he needed her. 

Fine, if that was how it was going to be, she would help him get in Frigost’s good graces. 

Putting on her most charming smile, she took Count Harebourg’s offered hand. “It will be my pleasure to dance with you, Your Grace.”

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” The count smiled back, a predatory glint in his eye that went unnoticed by Amalia.

.....................................................................................................................

Adamaï could only blink on, unamused, as his brother let himself be inspected by the Eniripsa Queen, choosing that moment to excuse himself to get some drinks. He understood they were on a mission to foster better relationships between their people and the Twelvians, but surely, there had to be a line somewhere. Just with a quick glance at the fairy’s aura it was easy to tell she had no real interest in his brother beyond a medical one, but given how shy and easily-flustered around women Yugo could get, Adamaï was half-expecting him to self-combust anytime soon. 

Having said that, this was nothing compared to the way their king’s brain would draw a blank whenever it came to the pretty flower they harboured. 

That evening, the dragon had to resist the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his skull in exasperation when his twin caught sight of the Divine Doll looking all dolled-up—pun not-intended. He was starting to become intimately familiar with the way Yugo’s breath hitched at the sight of her, the small, almost imperceptible gasp that would leave his mouth each time Amalia donned a different outfit than the one they were used to seeing her with. 

As expected, the moment Yugo went through his portal and landed by her side, he had the exact same reaction. His eyes widened as they travelled up and down every little detail of her body, from her shawl to her skirt, drinking her in. His fingers clearly twitched at the idea of reaching out with his hand and caressing her loose, forest-green hair. And his cheeks were dusted in pink the longer he stared at her.

How Amalia hadn’t noticed all that was beyond him. 

He was so head over heels for his precious flower it was almost laughable. Except for two key factors: on the one hand, Yugo refused to admit, even to himself, that he felt anything for Amalia rather than a close friendship; and, on the other hand, in his denial and for reasons Adamaï himself didn’t fully understand for once, he insisted on keeping her as far away as possible. 

And whether his twin realised it or not, that alone was pushing Amalia away. 

If he didn’t put a stop to whatever hesitation he was feeling at the moment, and soon, he would lose her forever, regardless of what she could have done for their people. 

Just as he returned, two glasses in hand, the Eniripsa Queen seemed to have grown bored with her inspection of the king’s physique and moved on to Nora. Given the queen’s analytical mind, it was plain to see she was far more interested in seeing the anatomical differences between male and female Eliatropes, but seeing as his younger sister was never one to turn down an offer to have a gorgeous woman near, Nora looked as pleased as punch. 

The same could not be said for Yugo, who was hunched forward with his hands resting on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Adamaï almost snorted at the sight. It didn’t matter if his twin was twenty or several hundred years old; he did not know how to deal with women. 

Not for the first time, Adamaï thanked their mother Amalia seemed completely unaware of the power she held over him. Otherwise, they’d be doomed. 

As he tried to regain his breath, having forgotten how to breathe when the Eniripsa Queen began to fondle his biceps, Yugo saw the glass offered to him from the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw Adamaï looking down at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

“Thirsty?” The dragon asked, shaking the glass in front of him to get his attention. 

Rolling his eyes at the ill-concealed double entendre, Yugo took the drink and took a greedy gulp. “Thank you.”

Adamaï shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He flashed his brother a crooked smile that sent a shiver down his spine. “It must be nice being so popular.”

Yugo pouted. “Shut up. You know it’s not like that.”

“Of course, I know. But just because I know it doesn’t mean others won’t take your insistence on Amalia not being your bride as an open invitation to send wedding proposals to you.”

Yugo almost choked on his drink. “What? No! Of course not!” He insisted, offended. “Can you imagine the uproar that would cause? I can already hear the gossip: ‘The Eliatrope King turns down a Sadida Doll to marry one of our royals instead. How scandalous!’,” he mocked in an overly nasally voice. Then, he scoffed. “Please, as if I would jeopardise our kingdom’s well-being by offending the Twelvians because I disrespected a Divine Doll sent specifically for me…”

Adamaï raised an eyebrow at that, knowing that wasn’t exactly the reason why he wouldn’t choose anyone over Amalia. But he chose not to comment on it. Yugo wasn’t willing to be honest with his feelings, not even to himself, and trying to force someone as stubborn as him to see reason was like pulling teeth.

A real pain. 

“And what about fostering better relationships by letting Amalia marry somebody else?”

Again, Yugo almost did a spit take at his twin's words. Whirling himself to face the dragon so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash, he asked, his voice strangled. “What?”

Shaking his head, Adamaï sighed. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

Narrowing his eyes on his brother, suspicious, Yugo eventually chose to let it go… Only for him to start yet again when Adamaï said, “I’m just saying, if you insist on explaining to everyone that Amalia isn’t your bride, yet you stand around her like a guard dog whenever someone else seems taken by her, you might end up sending mixed messages.”

“‘Mixed messages’?” He repeated, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Ad?”

But Ad limited himself to sending him a pointed look. And yet, that was enough for Yugo to understand what he meant immediately.

Oh. That.

That didn’t mean he was willing to admit to anything. Sulking, he faced forwards, refusing to meet the dragon in the eye, and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If it weren’t so frustrating, Adamaï would have actually laughed. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You’re going to pretend your powers weren’t about to go haywire at the sight of Count Harebourg flirting with Amalia?”

“Hate to break it to you, Big Brother,” Nora’s sarcastic voice said practically out of nowhere. Apparently, the Eniripsa Queen had got what she’d been looking for already, leaving her free. “But green looks much better on Amalia than on you.” 

Yugo frowned, knowing he was going to regret even asking, “What does that even mean?”

“Jealousy.” Qilby oh-so-helpfully supplied, appearing out of nowhere alongside the rest of his siblings. “You were seething with jealousy because your precious flower was no longer paying attention solely to yourself.”

“It’s normal to feel threatened when you stop being the hottest guy in the room. I would know.” Chibi teased, bringing a hand to his chest in mock solidarity. 

Their king actually flushed at that. “That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then what is the problem?” Mina challenged, an eyebrow raised. The calm in her voice underlaid the fact that her question was merely a formality, for she already knew the answer. She’d known long before Yugo, who still refused to open his eyes to the obvious. “If you’re not bothered by Count Harebourg’s interest in Amalia, then why did you react so strongly to it?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Yugo stubbornly chose to avert his gaze, letting out a sigh through his nose as he took another sip of his drink. “It’s not what you think.”

Because it simply couldn’t be what they all thought. He wasn’t jealous of Count Harebourg! Jealousy implied he feared he would lose Amalia to that half-blind Xelor. But that was ridiculous! The only way he could ever fear losing Amalia to another would be if he had feelings for her, and that wasn’t it. 

As fond as he was of Amalia, it was purely platonic. He was only protective of her because, despite her appearance, she was so young and naïve to the world around her. Her child-like wonder and innocence left her vulnerable to being manipulated for someone’s own selfish gain. 

He could’ve laughed at the thought. In a way, their situations were the opposite of each other: whereas Amalia was built to be a woman yet retained a delightfully young personality, Yugo had spent decades trapped in a child’s body despite his adult mind. And yet, the two suffered the same predicament—regardless of what they did to prove themselves, nobody ever took them seriously. 

As a result, Yugo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a strong kinship with the Divine Doll. Their similar interests and circumstances—including but not limited to their origins, which were extraordinary even by divine standards—made it all incredibly easy to grow close to her. But there were lines he shouldn’t cross. For both their sakes. 

Falling in love with her was one of such lines he would not dare cross. 

He was rudely reminded of that fact that day on the beach, and he hadn’t allowed himself to forget about it ever since. 

Explaining what love was to Amalia and remembering why she had been sent to him in the first place was a sobering reminder of why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down and fall for her. Doing so didn’t just mean potentially falling for whatever trap the gods had set for his people, but it also meant robbing Amalia of her chance to experience love for herself. 

If she truly became his bride, then she would be chained to him for as long as he lived. And the fact that she had been made precisely for that meant she would never be able to aspire for more. Whatever love she believed she felt for him would be a lie, and she didn’t deserve to think whatever one-sided thing there would be between them was love. 

She might be a Divine Doll, but she wasn’t an object. 

Which, apparently, nobody else seemed to be aware of. Wherever he looked, he saw people determined to worm their way into her life and gain her trust so they could eventually use her to further their goals. Inside these walls, Amalia wasn’t her own person, she wasn’t even a Divine Doll worthy of respect and admiration; she was the perfect political tool. 

And everyone was frothing at the mouth at the mere thought of getting their hands on her. 

And Yugo just knew Count Harebourg was the worst out of them. His intentions towards Amalia were downright sinister, no charming façade or well-constructed mask would be able to hide that. 

Unbeknownst to him, his hold on his glass became a little bit tighter. 

Just as Yugo got lost in his own thoughts, his siblings shared worried glances. More importantly, they were frustrated. Not just because Yugo was making things unnecessarily difficult for himself—they’d known him long enough to know that was just a staple of him—, but because they couldn’t do much to help. As close as they all were, Yugo had always liked dealing with his issues alone, sometimes not even Adamaï had access to his innermost worries and desires. The most they could do was to try and talk to him and hope something they said stuck with him long enough for him to see the error of his ways. 

It was clear his feelings for Amalia would be no different. 

Waiting for their king to snap out of his trance on his own, Grougaloragran let his gaze sweep around the room, bored with the lack of action. For a moment, his eyes landed on the dancefloor and the couples moving to the beat of the music but, growing disinterested even as he saw Amalia in Count Harebourg’s arms, swaying to the music, he focused on somewhere else. 

…until what he’d just borne witness to registered in his mind and he was forced to do a double take. 

Oh, Yugo was not going to like this. 

“Uh, Yugo?” He called out to his king over his shoulder. “Grougaloragran believes you should take a look at this.”

Letting out a sigh, Yugo began, “What is it, Grougal—?”

Only to be immediately cut off by what he saw. 

As his eyes followed Amalia and Harebourg as they danced, his blood reached the boiling temperature. A loud crack! echoed throughout the room as whatever remained of his drink splashed against the floor, the shattered pieces of glass falling from his hand.

...................................................................................................................

“I must admit I didn’t expect you to be such a talented dancer, my Lady.” Count Harebourg mused aloud. “Have you ever danced before?”

“You seem to be forgetting my father is known precisely for dancing on the ridges once spring arrives, Your Grace. It is only natural that his own daughters would follow in his footsteps.” Amalia smirked.

The Xelor chuckled. “How shameful of me. I hope you can forgive me, Lady Amalia.” He told her jokingly. 

Amalia pretended to think about it. “Well, I suppose I can be merciful just this once.” She giggled. 

“You have my thanks.” Count Harebourg smirked back at her. 

Amalia had to admit, this wasn’t so bad. Sure, a part of her would’ve still preferred to dance with Yugo, but the count acted like the perfect gentleman the whole time. She was finally having some fun of her own, and Count Harebourg always made sure to make her feel comfortable and beautiful, constantly showering her with compliments and words of praise. She didn’t understand how she’d come to doubt him before. 

She wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night with someone who actually seemed to care about her. 

“Do you know that we actually have something in common, my Lady?”

Amalia hummed absentmindedly, asking him to elaborate on that. 

“I’m actually a demigod myself.” The count explained, and Amalia almost had to do a double take at that. 

Her brown eyes wide, she asked, “You are?”

It was the count’s turn to hum. “That’s right. Xelor is my father.” He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “I suppose that much was to be expected, given my race.”

“Oh.” For a while that was all Amalia could say, her brain scrambling to catch up with the conversation. Finally, she weakly offered. “Um, I remember meeting him in Inglorium. Right before I was sent here…”

“Oh? And, do tell, what was he like?”

A strained smile stretched over the doll’s lips. What was she supposed to say?! She had barely talked to the guy for, what, five minutes? That was hardly enough time to form an educated opinion on someone’s true character. Especially when all you could focus on as you talked to them was the fact that their eyes and mouth were on their torso and how disturbing that whole imagery was. 

“He has his mouth and eyes on his torso. That’s creepy.” Her eyes widened in alarm when she realised she actually said that aloud. 

She felt a little bit better when she heard him laugh, loud and unrestrained. He had a nice laugh. The feeling didn’t last long, being replaced shortly after by anxiousness taking hold of her heart at what he said next. 

“That’s actually the nicest thing that comes to mind whenever I think about him.” Count Harebourg admitted, taking his hand off her waist to wipe a tear off his eye. 

“Really?” Amalia found herself asking. Her heartbeat skyrocketed when the white-haired man’s face morphed into a much more sombre expression. 

He remained quiet for a second, pensive, and then, with the same tone of voice one would use to share a secret, he told her:

“Lady Amalia, the truth is I hate my father.”

.....................................................................................................................

To say Yugo was livid would be an understatement. His left eye hadn’t stopped twitching since he caught sight of Count Harebourg with his hands all over Amalia. He had half the mind not to open a portal right beside him and shoot a wakfu beam at the space between them as his first, and only, warning. 

The half of his mind who held him back from inflicting bodily harm on that pompous, one-eyed Xelor was called Adamaï, and he was very busy trying to keep up with his Eliatrope twin while the latter was on the verge of suffering a conniption. 

“Look at him, flirting so shamelessly with someone else's bride. Can you believe it!?” Yugo all but screeched, gesturing wildly at the two as they danced.

It took every ounce of the dragon’s strength not to roll his eyes in exasperation. “Um, didn't you just spend about half an hour going around and explaining that, while we're truly honoured to take Amalia in, she is not your bride?”

“Yes, but I didn't explain it to him!” Yugo shot back, irate. 

“Of course you didn’t.” Adamaï couldn’t help but to think to himself. Aloud, he said, “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

“I can’t just do that!”

“Right, because doing so would be essentially admitting that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—!” Yugo began, raising his voice. At least, until he noticed the curious eyes staring back at him for his outburst, which caused him to force himself to lower his voice, almost to a whisper. “I’m not jealous.”

This time, Adamaï did roll his eyes in annoyance, but his twin ignored him.

Yugo was having a really hard time standing still. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to march over there, grab Count Harebourg by the shoulder, maybe punch him in the face for good measure, and bring Amalia back to them. But, on the other hand, doing so could result in a number of consequences he’d do best to avoid. 

Firstly, much to his chagrin, Count Harebourg was an important figure in the World of Twelve, being the ruler of Frigost and all. Secondly, he really didn’t want to cultivate the image of a violent, ill-tempered king who went around punching people he didn’t like. There was no point in trying to be diplomatic this whole time if he then acted anything but. And finally, there was Amalia herself. 

Even if every fibre of his being was telling him to go get her, he still had no right to interfere. Regardless of her nature, she was not an object and she wasn’t a child, she could make her own decisions. He couldn’t just intervene in her business, especially when they were nothing to each other, at least not romantically. 

As he brought a hand to his chest in an attempt to alleviate the painful pang that resounded in his ribcage at that particular train of thought, he almost didn’t hear Adamaï when he said, “Seriously, if it bothers you so much, you could always talk things out with Count Harebourg. After all, technically speaking, you’re higher up in the pecking order.”

Under no circumstances, shape or form did the two of them let out high-pitched screams at the sudden sound of Master Joris’ voice coming from behind them. 

“If I were you, I’d be careful around Count Harebourg, Your Majesty.” Master Joris’ warning rang ominously, his black eyes narrowed into slits. Once he’d recovered from the fright, his words registering in his mind, Yugo couldn't help but scoff. 

“You can just call me Yugo, Master Joris. After all, you already trespassed our territory uninvited. What's the point in formality?” 

Unbeknownst to him, Joris squinted his eyes at him, intrigued by the new edge in the king’s voice. One that, interestingly enough, hadn't been there when he indeed presented himself at his palace, uninvited. Though glancing back at the dancing couple, he had a pretty good guess as to why that was. 

“Anyway, why do you say that? Do you know the count?”

Joris nodded. Honestly, he wished he didn't. “Count Harebourg is an old enemy of mine.”

Yugo and Adamaï’s eyes widened at such revelation, taken aback. “Aren't you an esteemed member of Bonta’s court?” Another nod. “Then why would the queen invite one of your enemies to a banquet you will be attending?”

“Because, regardless of his actions, Count Harebourg is still the ruler of Frigost.” His eyes flickered back to Yugo, the way his jaw clenched a clear indication of how serious he was. “The count’s greatest priority is his people, first and foremost. Anything else is superfluous.”

“Isn't that a quality a good leader should have?” Adamaï asked, not following.

“Indeed, all good leaders should worry about their subjects’ well-being.” Joris agreed, but it was short-lived. “However, never to the extent of being willing to sacrifice another nation for their sake. Trust me, Your Majesty, Master Adamaï, Count Harebourg is not above using others to achieve his goals. And I fear someone like Lady Amalia is ripe with opportunity.”

“You think he has ulterior motives for trying to get close to Amalia?”

“All I’m saying is it would be unwise to underestimate him.” Joris insisted, but his answer was already all Yugo needed to know where Harebourg stood. 

For the first time since he first met the man a scarce few hours ago, Yugo felt something other than irritation—genuine fear for Amalia's sake. “Is he truly that dangerous?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically small. 

Joris’ expression turned grave. “Let's just say you aren't the only demigods attending, my King.”

The twins exchanged alarmed glances, knowing how dangerous a demigod Xelor could be. Adamaï in particular grew irritated. 

“Didn’t you send Amalia to your sons precisely to keep her safe?” He demanded to know. 

“And I will have a talk with them about it, Master Adamaï. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Count Harebourg had most likely been waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.”

Yugo’s heartbeat resounded in his ears, panic taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tightly. He had to clench his fists until his knuckles turned white to keep himself grounded, to prevent himself from creating a string of portals that would lead him directly to Amalia and allow him to hold her close while he took care of that forsaken count. 

He couldn’t act on his instincts, he had to be diplomatic about it. It’d be best if they waited until the music died down to go look for her. That was the right choice, the kind of choice a king should make. He was doing the right thing, for himself and his people. 

Then why was it physically painful?

Mina’s voice by his side was both a balm to his fears and a fan to the flames. He must have been so out of it he didn’t even register when she slid up next to him. 

“I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Yugo.” She told him, her voice kind. How was she so good at seeing right through him? “And the right thing is making sure Amalia is alright.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes unblinking. Mina limited herself to pointing at the dancefloor, where the doll and the count were standing in plain sight. “Whatever it is the count’s trying to do, it’s not a simple dance anymore.”

Terror taking over him at the implications behind her words, Yugo snapped his head back to the direction she was pointing at. A powerful thud! resounded in his ribcage at the image before him, his protective senses flaring alongside a sense of rightful fury. Even from where he stood, he could see Amalia, her eyes wide and frantic as a frightened expression clouded over her features. Holding her with a vice-tight grip was Count Harebourg, the look on his face was downright nightmarish. And yet, the most terrifying thing of all had to be the very real possibility that the Xelor might hurt her. 

Under Adamaï’s worried eyes, the ears in his hood twitched; that was never a good sign. His fears were confirmed shortly after. 

Before the dragon could so much as blink, Yugo had already jumped inside a portal, a bright blue trail following behind him as he moved from one portal to the next, headed straight towards the dancefloor. 

Towards Amalia. 

Their siblings, who had watched the whole exchange, all sent pointed glances at Nora. Except for Phaeris, who just raised an eyebrow at his sister’s methods. And people said he could be a tad extreme. 

“Aren't you supposed to be the mediator? You know, the one who solves conflicts?” Chibi questioned her, incredulous. 

But Mina didn’t even flinch at his outburst, her smile remained exactly where it was. 

“Sometimes the best way to solve an argument is by causing it.” She shot back enigmatically, before turning around and moving deeper into the throngs of people. 

Not for the first time that day, her siblings exchanged helpless glances, hoping beyond hope she didn’t make a mistake. Much like how they prayed to the Great Goddess that Yugo wouldn’t get in trouble for whatever he was about to do. 

......................................................................................................................

The count’s words were so unexpected, Amalia couldn’t help but break their hold, taking one step back in shock. As she stared back at the Xelor, her eyes wide in disbelief, the only sound that left her throat was a quiet, “What?”

But the count just shrugged, as if he hadn’t just shaken her perception of reality. “Don’t act so surprised, my Lady. It’s hard to feel any affection for someone who not once has been there for you when you needed him.”

That… made sense, she supposed, just like she could understand Ush’s distaste for his own father if it was true Ecaflip favoured some of his children more than others. Still, there was something in the way the count uttered those words—so matter-of-factly, so casually, almost as if it was a simple, undeniable fact of life—that sent a shiver down her spine. 

Her unease only grew with each other word that left her fellow demigod’s mouth. 

“And that is another thing you and I have in common.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve always heard misery loves company, but I never truly appreciated its meaning until now.”

When the doll found her voice, it was distinctly small and anxious, “I…I don’t think I understand.”

The count’s affable tone did nothing to keep his words from feeling like cold knives aiming at her heart. “But Lady Amalia, don’t you see? We’ve both been abandoned by our respective divine fathers.”

And just like that, the ice cold fear taking hold of her heart melted away, replaced by rightful fury at such blasphemy. How dare he insult her father like that? How dare he insult her like that? How dare he? 

“My father has not abandoned me, Your Grace.” She told him firmly, her tone stern as she balled her hands into fists. 

Her frown only hardened into a scowl when he had the audacity to laugh at that, to laugh at her.

“Lady Amalia, your faith in your father is wonderfully refreshing, but you must face the facts.” Just then, a shadow passed over his features, the smile disappearing completely from his face. “As soon as you were created, your father dumped you here to serve as somebody else’s bride, with no care for your feelings or input. Can you really tell me Sadida hasn’t forsaken you?”

For a moment, the doll hesitated, biting her lip. Still, her father loved her. She was his masterpiece, he said so himself! And he was extremely saddened to watch her go. Besides, she wasn’t sent to the World of Twelve on a whim of her father’s, she was there for a reason. 

“I’m here because the Eliatropes need me—” Amalia began to defend herself, only to be cut off by the sound of the count’s loud, unnerving laughter. 

When his cackles died down and he finally looked her in the eye, it made Amalia wish he’d kept his mask on. The look on his face was the stuff of nightmares. 

“The Eliatropes, you say?” He asked, even though he didn’t wait for an answer to continue. “Lady Amalia, can’t you see how those low-lives don’t deserve you? They have no right coming to our world and demanding our approval and cooperation. And now they believe themselves worthy of being sent a Divine Doll? They believe themselves worthy of you?” He let out a low, sardonic laugh, his manic eye fixed on her form. 

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Before she had time to react or even register the way the partygoers were all looking at them, Count Harebourg held the Sadida Doll by her arms tight enough for her to bruise where his fingertips made contact with her skin. As that ice-powered madman stared deep into her soul, all she could do in her frightened state was to let out a pained gasp. 

“Amalia, come with me to Frigost. If there’s one nation in the World of Twelve that would benefit from you becoming its ruler, that’s my home! Together, we can make everyone pay for turning their backs on us, we can get revenge on the gods for siring us and forsaking us when we need them most! For treating us like we’re replaceable instead of their own flesh and blood! 

“You and I are kindred spirits, Lady Amalia, and soulmates like us must stick together.” Count Harebourg’s lips curled into a smile that was meant to be encouraging but that, combined with the almost frenzied look in his eye, only made him look like a madman. “You already hold my heart, my Lady, all that’s left to do is for you to become my countess and to rule Frigost by my side.”

Much to her chagrin, Amalia was paralysed, her mind completely blank as she found herself genuinely fearing for her life. The sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears was so loud, and her eyes so fixated on the man in front of her, she remained completely unaware of the surprised gasps echoing all around her or the flashes of blue light coming from her periphery. 

Even as the count’s expression darkened into a hate-filled scowl, she remained out of it until the Xelor was shoved back and away from her with incredible force while a pair of strong, warm, protective arms held her close to an equally warm and strong body. For the first time that night, Amalia allowed herself to just melt into that person’s embrace, feeling safe at last.

She could stay in that comforting embrace forever if given the chance. 

Once she’d willed her breathing to go back to normal, the doll chanced to glance up at her mysterious saviour. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Yugo, his eyes shining a bright blue as his gaze bore down on the count menacingly, a hand outstretched and glowing ominously in case his opponent tried anything funny. 

He held her even closer when Count Harebourg got back up to his feet, his own eye shining with fury at the interruption. “You!” He snarled, encasing his arms in ice sharp enough to cut through steel. 

But before a fight could ensue, Queen Astra’s voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a knife. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Count Harebourg.” She warned, her guests parting to let her pass. At her feet, Master Joris brandished his log-backpack, his intentions clear.

One by one, the Bontarian guards stationed alongside the walls all came to point their weapons at the Xelor count, at the same time as the members of the Council of Six all came to their king’s aid, daring their opponent to make his move. 

Looking around for a way out, Count Harebourg eventually surrendered, his shoulders slouching in defeat as he dispelled the ice on his arms. But not before flashing Yugo a hate-filled glare, a snarl curling at his lips. And with that, he let himself be enveloped by a cold breeze and disappeared. 

As soon as the count vanished, the weight of everything that had just happened, as well as everything leading up to that moment, crashed over Amalia, overwhelming her senses to a point it was almost painful. Her mind a turbulent storm, she wriggled herself free from Yugo’s grasp and stormed off towards the balcony, desperate for some air. 

After a quick glance his siblings’ way to ensure they’d be fine without him, a concerned Yugo was soon to follow.

................................................................................................................

The moment she made it past the threshold leading to the balcony, Amalia groaned, exasperated, “That was just infuriating!”

“Can’t really argue with you there. I’ve been getting a bad feeling from the count since we met him.” Yugo agreed, his eyes back to their usual dark brown. 

He had to take a step back in surprise when Amalia whirled around to face him, a fire in her eyes, “I was talking about you!”

Yugo’s jaw dropped. “Me? But I just saved you from that freak!”

With a humph! Amalia turned back around, crossing her arms. “I didn’t need your help!” She insisted petulantly. 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Mouth agape, he shot back, raising his arms in the air in exasperation. “Don't you see what that guy was trying to do from the very beginning?”

“At first he was just being nice to me!” She countered. Deep down, Amalia knew Yugo was right, but she wasn’t in the right headspace to concede anything. So she pressed on.

“Yeah, to get into your pants!” He shouted.

“I don't see how that's possible, since I’m not even wearing pants today!” She screeched right back.Then, she added, haughtily sticking her nose up in the air. “Besides, you heard Master Joris; no Twelvian in their right mind would dare lay a finger on me.”

Yugo could only blink at her, incredulous. She had to be kidding him. There was no way they were having this conversation. Not after what just happened. 

“I’m sorry, but was he supposed to realise he wouldn't dare hurt you before or after he grabbed you by the arms tight enough to leave bruises on your skin?”

Amalia didn’t respond, she just stared stubbornly to the side. That lit a fire within Yugo, the outrage he felt growing by the second. So that was how it was gonna be, huh? He spent the entire night worrying for her safety, trying to look out for her, and even saving her from that lunatic, and this was how she repaid him?

He wouldn’t have been able to keep the bitterness out of his mouth even if he tried. “Maybe I should’ve let him take you to Frigost with him, seeing as you didn’t need my help.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re any better.” She shot back, turning her body completely so her back was to him. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Eliatrope asked, his voice low. 

But she didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him. 

So, mustering every last bit of patience he had, he tried again. “Amalia, what’s that supposed to mean?”

She still refused to even acknowledge his presence. 

“Amalia!”

Still, nothing. Growing exasperated, Yugo almost reached out to her to force her to look at him, but taking notice of how tender the skin Harebourg had grabbed her by looked, he ultimately decided against it. In the end, he opened a portal right in front of her, determined to get her to explain herself. 

What he saw broke his heart in two. 

Even as she still refused to meet his eyes, it was plain to see she was crying, the tears streaming down her cheeks regardless of how hard she tried to keep them at bay. And the way she was desperately hugging herself for comfort only made his heart throb painfully.

“Amalia…” His anger momentarily forgotten, he tried reaching out to her, only for her watery voice to stop him in his tracks. 

“Deep down you’re just like the count, Yugo.” She said, her words like knives to his heart. “You don’t care about me as a person at all, you only care about what I can offer to you and your people.”

“Amalia, that’s not true at all!” He tried to defend himself, aghast by her accusation. “You’re my friend, of course I care about you!”

Much to his consternation, Amalia let out a loud, sardonic laugh, before her eyes turned into daggers as she finally stared back at him. “Oh, really? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me ever since we came back from the beach? Is that why you haven’t been training in front of my balcony anymore? Why, no matter how hard I try to get close to you, you do everything in your power to avoid me? Is that why you recoil from my touch as if my mere presence disgusted you?!”

As she spoke, each word filled with anger, confusion, and hurt, she took one step forward after another, forcing Yugo to go back little by little. She made sure to punctuate each question with a poke of her finger into his chest. The only reason it hurt had nothing to do with the force behind it, but because her words felt like a suckerpunch. 

“What do you expect me to believe, Yugo?” She asked him rhetorically. “What do you expect me to think when the first time in weeks you spend with me has nothing to do with you wanting to be by my side, but because your people need me! Something you couldn’t even talk to me about in person. Oh, no! I had to find out through the Royal tailor!” The doll threw her arms to her sides, the tears falling freely down her cheeks.

“You’re surrounded by your family and people who love you, Yugo, but I only have you. But you…” She choked on her tears, her voice watery and broken from weeks of holding it all back. And yet, Amalia made sure to look him in the eye as she sobbed, “You want nothing to do with me…”

And finally, as her voice broke when she uttered those last few syllables, she brought her hands to her face and she sobbed. Her shoulders going up and down as she hiccuped, brokenhearted. And yet, Yugo felt like he was the one who had his heart ripped off his chest at the sight of her. At the sight of what he’d caused. 

Swallowing hard, he was forced to face the truth. Amalia was right. She was right about everything. Since there was no guarantee they would ever fall in love, he had promised he’d be her friend, only to break that promise as soon as he got scared. The moment they came back from the beach he didn’t just keep her at arm’s length, he refused to even see her unless it was absolutely necessary. 

And, more often than not, it was her who would be looking for him, not the other way around. 

He always got defensive and protective of her whenever she wasn’t near, her happiness becoming a priority. But whenever the doll was within reach, his doubts weighed him down and prevented him from treating Amaia like she deserved. 

With a heavy heart, he was forced to realise the only reason Count Harebourg got close to her in the first place had been because he allowed it. 

“Amalia, I…” He started, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry. I… I haven’t been fair to you. I-I got so caught up in other things, I didn’t even realise how that made you feel, and I… I’m so sorry.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth either. Regardless, he went on. “You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you. You’re right, I haven’t been a good friend. But I really want to make it up to you. From now on, I promise to do better, okay?”

She let him place his hands over her shawl-covered shoulders. He supposed that was a start. Tentatively, carefully, he brought his arms around her body, holding her close in an attempt to offer some comfort. His breath almost hitched when she snaked her arms around his sides, just as cautiously. Even in her current state, scared, angry, and tear-stricken, she still allowed him, one of the people responsible for everything, to hug her. 

He’d really screwed up, hadn’t he?

After a few more minutes where the only sound that could be heard in the balcony were her quiet sniffles, the Divine Doll broke their hold enough for her to look up at him from under her lashes. Even with her brown eyes red and puffy, Yugo couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was, his eyes soft. 

“You really mean that?” She asked in a small voice. 

“Of course!” He assured her. “I promise, I’ll do anything in my power to make it up to you. Is there anything you want to do?”

She remained quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and then… “There’s a thing or two I’d like to do.”

“Tell me, I’m all ears. Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”

“I’d really like to dance with you.” She told him, a flush dusting her cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all evening, but I didn’t think you would accept.”

He smiled at her. Sometimes she was satisfied with the simplest things. “Of course, I’ll dance with you, Amalia.”

Steadily growing in confidence, she added. “And… and you haven’t said anything about my dress. I lost count of how many times I got pricked by a needle for this, you know?”

If anything, his grin only widened. “There’s no words to describe how you look, Amalia.” He told her honestly. 

Her blush deepening, the doll had to cough slightly before she finally said, glancing shyly back at him. “You… you don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Why, thank you. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’d like to do something fun while we’re here in Bonta.”

“Actually, I might just have the perfect thing.” He smirked. 

“Oh?”

“That’s right. Queen Astra suggested we stay to watch the gobbowl game taking place tomorrow. Apparently, it’s a huge deal around here.”

Amalia wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “If you say so…”

...................................................................................................................

As they watched the Eliatrope King and Sadida’s eleventh doll dancing, both of them sporting blinding smiles on their faces as they swayed to the music and King Yugo twirled Amalia around, her skirt and shawl fluttering behind her with every step, Prince Armand couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow at the display. He turned to his father.

“Do you really believe there’s nothing going on between them—?”

“Not even for a second, son.”

.............................................................................................................

“Oh, sweet Sadida!” Amalia exclaimed, completely awestruck. “And that last transfer?!”

“I know!” Yugo agreed, beside himself with excitement. “Man, that Kriss Krass fellow sure knows how to put on a show!”

Walking a few feet ahead of them, Adamaï couldn’t help but smile to himself as his brother and his precious flower bonded over gobbowl. Looking over his shoulder, he had to admit it was quite endearing to see how they discussed the match so animatedly, their hands clasped and their eyes glimmering as they recounted the moments that stood out the most to them. 

Seeing them now after weeks of tense interactions, standing so close to each other and even hugging each other tightly whenever Kriss Krass’ team scored, was all he needed to feel reassured. 

No matter what came next, they would be fine. It was only a matter of time before that thing going on between them blossomed into something more.

#wakfu #wakfu fanfiction #my fanfiction #wakfu au #divine doll! amalia au #the doll and the dragon #divine doll! au #sadida doll! au #yugo the eliatrope #amalia sheran sharm #yumalia #adamaï #qilby #nora #chibi #grougaloragran #phaeris #mina #master joris #joris jurgen #kerubim crepin #atcham #count harebourg #king oakheart sheran sharm #armand sheran sharm #queen astra #shinonomé #ankama #krozmos #dofus

[mellyssageversee]

Eclipsed - Chapter 2

ZoLu/LuZo AU (Sun God Nika)

Summary: Sun God Nika is accused of a crime he did not commit. Nika goes into hiding to avoid being hunted by other Gods who wish to have him replaced. This inadvertently plunges the world into darkness, triggering an ice age. Only one human has faith that Nika will return the Sun.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Zoro released a content sigh, relishing the warmth that enveloped him as he lay on the familiar soil of Isshen Dojo’s garden. Basking in the sunlight, a smile graced the swordsman’s face. It had been so long that Zoro nearly forgot the sensation of the warm earth against his skin. Despite his closed eyes, Zoro sensed someone at his side.

“I knew I’d find you here…” Kuina’s teasing voice echoed above Zoro, prompting a subtle stir. “Come on, lazy bones. It’s time to wake up! Wake up!”

Zoro attempted to open his eyes, but found the task challenging. The warmth was too inviting, too comfortable.

“Wake up!”

Zoro furrowed his eyebrows. The voice had changed. That wasn’t Kuina’s voice…

“Do you usually sleep this loooong?!” The voice whined.

Zoro slowly blinked open his eyes. A blinding light from above cast a glare across his vision. He could barely make out a childishly wide grin that reminded him of his friend.

“Finally!” The unexpected stranger bounced up happily, his fists raised over his head victoriously, as if Zoro's awakening was a great feat. The stranger turned his attention back to Zoro, his wide smile never faltering. Zoro, feeling petrified in the spot he lay, noticed the stranger's bright, glowing red eyes and white hair that danced like fire. As his disoriented gaze wandered, he realized he was in a surprisingly warm cave, the surroundings unfamiliar and surreal to him.

“All I can say is: Wow! I’m surprised that there is a human that actually still likes me!” Nika’s beaming smile seemed to intensify his light. The sight of such genuine glee had become foreign to Zoro. To see another full of such joy made his heart involuntarily quicken. “So! Who do I have the honor of thanking for sticking up for me back there?”

Zoro sat up cautiously. His mind raced to catch up with what was happening. A God was there before him. Not just any God. Nika! The one who had been missing for months. The one with the power to return light to their dark world was sitting before him, tilting his head in an inquisitive manner. His red eyes bright with curiosity. For a moment, Zoro wondered if he was dead. How else could he explain this encounter? The last thing he remembered was falling into the snow. Did he freeze to death?! No, he’d know right away if he had died…

“You have a funny look on your face. Most of you mortals seem to get this way when meeting me.” Nika sat down and reached forward to pinch Zoro’s cheek, as if trying to encourage Zoro to change his expression. Zoro couldn’t help but notice how warm the God’s touch was. “You don’t have to get so serious! All I’m asking is for your name.”

Despite Nika’s encouraging words, Zoro still couldn’t help but be taken aback. Kuina was right when she said the God was unique. Nika didn’t hold himself above Zoro. He spoke to him as if he was an old friend. In fact, the God had almost a childish nature about him. The way he now positioned himself to sit with his legs crossed next to Zoro, the way his smile never faltered, the way those large eyes glistened with wonder.. Nika was unlike anyone he had ever met.

“Zoro..” Zoro finally found his voice to answer. Nika’s eyes shone happily at the reply, which caused Zoro’s stomach to twist into knots. Perhaps it was his gut telling him he needed to address Nika with more respect? “My name is Roronoa Zoro.. uh all great and powerful Sun God Nika.”

Nika immediately scrunched his face in distaste. Zoro didn’t blame him. It felt awkward to address the God in such a way.

“Gross.. no need to get all formal. I just wanted to know Zoro’s name.” Nika let go of Zoro’s cheek. The swordsman couldn’t help but frown at the loss of warmth upon his face.

“Well, I’ve never met a God before. I don’t know exactly how I’m supposed to address one!” Zoro replied with a bit more candor. The interaction was becoming more casual, and Zoro was starting to feel a bit more at ease in the presence of the unconventional Sun God.

“Nika is fine,” Nika said with a shrug, his attention turned to a hangnail on his thumb, which he began to pick at as he continued, “Unless we are around other humans. Then you can just call me Luffy.”

“Luffy?” Zoro asked aloud. Then another question popped into his mind. “What do you mean by me addressing you that way in front of other people?”

“Well, I can’t have you addressing me as ‘your royal sun god’ around others.” Nika explained rolling his eyes like it was obvious. He picked the hangnail free and promptly flicked it across the cave.

Zoro blinked in confusion.

“Okay, that title is nothing like what I said before. And I still don’t get what you mean about us talking in front of others.” Zoro said, a bit more heatedly this time. Zoro never liked dancing around a subject. He preferred straightforward answers.

“I mean when we're traveling together.” Nika frowned, appearing equally upset. As if his answers were the most obvious things in the world, and he didn’t like that Zoro couldn’t understand right away. “You already know that others don’t like me. How would they react if they saw me in person?”

“What do you mean when we travel together?!” Zoro’s voice grew louder as shock took hold of him.

“Geez… I thought Zoro would be a lot smarter since you know I didn’t harm that island.” Nika said with a pout. The God leaned back against the cavern wall with his arms crossed.

Nika’s offhanded comment surprised Zoro yet again. He had always known the God wasn’t responsible for what happened to Ohara, but hearing it out loud from the God himself filled Zoro with vindicating relief.

“You were right at the tavern. I'm set on bringing back the sun, but first, I've got to clear my name. And Zoro’s the one who's gonna be my partner in uncovering the truth.” Nika asserted confidently.

Zoro buried his face in his hands, grappling with the confusion stirred by Nika's vague answers. With an exasperated exhale, Zoro lifted his head, determination ablaze in his eyes, poised to extract some clarity from the enigmatic God.

“Alright, let’s say I’m on board with helping you-” Zoro began slowly.

“Which you definitely are!” Nika chimed in confidently.

“No interrupting.” Zoro scolded. He blushed when realizing he shouldn't be scolding a God but he found a certain comfort in their banter. He continued, “If we're traveling together, I need more information. So, let's start from the beginning. I know you didn’t destroy Ohara, but if you're innocent, then why did you vanish? Why did the Sun suddenly disappear?”

Nika's grin finally faded. A hint of sadness flashed across the God’s eyes.

“Humans aren't the only ones who think I messed up that island.” Nika shifted his gaze away, seemingly reluctant to make eye contact with Zoro while explaining. “Other Gods share the same idea, and they're demanding I be replaced.”

Zoro's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Gods can be replaced?” Zoro questioned, wondering why, if that were the case, the other deities hadn't taken action to end the world's darkness by replacing Nika during his absence. “How? Isn’t the whole point of being a God is that you were born with your gifts. Isn’t that what sets you apart from us humans?”

Nika’s demeanor shifted. A dark look flashed across his eyes when he answered.

“Being born with our gifts never stopped other Gods from wanting more power and finding ways to take it.” Nika’s reply was so dark, so ominous, it made Zoro shiver despite the warmth of the cave. Nika, as if sensing Zoro’s discomfort, immediately switched back to his wide maddening smile. “Anyways, they planned on executing me so someone else can take my place.”

“What?!” 

The swordsman couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor could he understand how Nika could say something like it was an offhand comment.

Zoro's protective instincts kicked in, his hands involuntarily reaching out to grip Nika’s. Wide eyes turned toward Zoro, surprised by the swordsman's intense reaction. 

“How can they just decide that after all the good you've done?! Did they even try to find another culprit?!”

Nika's surprise transformed into gleeful excitement, his features lighting up with a wide grin.

"I knew I’d like you." Nika beamed, seemingly unfazed by the anger on Zoro's face. The God was clearly delighted by Zoro's immediate protective response, finding joy in the swordsman's fierce loyalty despite their recent acquaintance. "Nope, they didn't bother looking for another culprit. The evidence pointed to me. Only my brothers believe in my innocence."

Nika gave the swordsman’s hand a tender squeeze, his warm touch causing a subtle blush to spread across Zoro’s face. As they shared this moment, a lingering ache of sadness toward Nika’s situation settled within the swordsman, he sat there silently waiting for the God to continue unraveling the events that led to the Sun’s disappearance. 

Nika glanced upwards, seemingly envisioning the events that led to his current predicament.

“Many of the other Gods were divided on what to do with me. They fought a LOT! That’s when some Gods decided to take matters into their own hands. They chose to execute me themselves.” Nika explained.

“How is trying to take down another God not a crime?!” Zoro asked in disbelief.

Nika rolled his eyes, as if the answer was obvious. 

“If the God supposedly did something wrong against humanity, it only makes sense to get rid of them. Ohara housed the temple of the God of Wisdom. Destroying the island erased sacred knowledge, lost forever in both the Mortal and Celestial Realms.”

Zoro had always known Ohara as the home of brilliant minds, but the revelation that it held knowledge sacred to the Gods added another layer to the tragedy.

“What happened when they pursued you?” Zoro prodded Nika to share more.

“My brothers tried to shield me, but it got dangerous for them. I couldn’t let them risk their safety for me, so I decided to come to the Mortal Realm to investigate myself. If I can prove my innocence, maybe the other Gods won't chase me. But I've been here too long. Cut off from the Celestial Realm, I can't provide the Sun.” Nika explained with a hint of sadness.

A heavy weight settled onto Zoro's heart. The revelation of Nika’s situation hit him hard; people had assumed the God abandoned them, not realizing Nika was fighting to survive.

“You say you need my help, but what can I do?” Zoro asked uncertainly. “I know nothing of your world. How can I assist in proving your innocence when I don't even know what to look for?”

Nika offered Zoro a reassuring smile, acknowledging the swordsman's concern.

"Well, I need someone like Zoro by my side. You're strong, and you've got a good heart." Nika explained. "I'm not the best at dealing with humans, and you can help me navigate through this world. Besides, I trust Zoro."

Zoro shook his head and chuckled in disbelief as he processed Nika's words. The idea of the Sun God relying on him to navigate the complexities of human interaction was both amusing and somewhat ironic. Zoro, often reserved and straightforward, couldn't help but find it peculiar that Nika saw him as the go-to person for this task.

"Well, you better be prepared," Zoro remarked with a smirk. A rare smile crossed his lips, and he felt a flicker of warmth in his chest at accepting the Gods request. "Interacting with ‘humans’ isn't exactly my strong suit either, but I'll do my best to keep you out of trouble."

Nika’s eyes sparkled with excitement, the infectious energy of a carefree adventurer. The God abruptly rose to his feet, stretching his limbs like he was preparing for an exhilarating journey.

“Great! Let’s get going!” Nika beamed happily, exuding his infectious enthusiasm. The God already started walking towards the exit of the cave, but Zoro was quick to rush after Nika. The swordsman grabbed into a fistful of the God’s shirt.

“You can’t just go out looking like that.” Zoro scolded, his voice carrying a protective undertone. His expression turned more serious as he felt more duty bound to protect this whimsical being. “People are going to know you’re a God right away if you go out with flaming hair, and you’re not even dressed for winter weather.”

Nika looked down at himself in surprise, realizing Zoro was right.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that.” Nika gently shook out of Zoro’s hold. Soon, he emitted a bright glow that filled the cave. When the light disappeared, Nika stood before him looking very familiar. Zoro immediately recognized this dark-haired, brown-eyed young man as the fidgeting patron from the tavern. Even in his human form, Nika’s eyes still radiated the same alluring warmth.

Zoro didn’t realize he was staring for so long until Nika's impatient fingers gently closed around his arm, an unexpected warmth seeped through his bones. Nika's touch was a magnetic force, tugging at Zoro's attention more than he cared to admit.

“Come on. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.” Nika insisted.

Zoro, unable to resist the pull Nika had on him, obediently followed. His stoic exterior hiding the subtle warmth swelling within. As they moved together, Zoro couldn’t help but notice the intertwining of their steps, creating a silent harmony between them.

“Where are we going?”

“Ohara!”

#zolu #luzo #Zoro x luffy #zolu fanfic #Zoro x nika #I know this story has kind of been on the back burner with me working on Noble Hearts #but I wanted to post something for Luffy's birthday and I still really like this story idea. #I'll come back to it since I have so much planned

[hello-eeveev]

How to Rest: Director's Commentary—Chapter 2

| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |

Chapter 2 is for cozy vibes, further establishing themes, and lightly pushing my grey-ace Caleb Widogast agenda. Chapter 2 Commentary is for discussing where Caleb’s head is at at this point in my timeline for this fic series and why it’s there, and further explaining my grey-ace Caleb Widogast agenda. In fact, I’m realizing that this chapter is kind of a companion piece to On the Nature of Attraction and I’m posting this on its anniversary! What perfect timing!

Let’s get started!

(spoiler warning for the entirely of How to Rest)

The setting for this is New Dawn, aka Exandrian New Year. It’s snowing in Rexxentrum and Essek visits Caleb to welcome in the new year. I imagine that just before this chapter begins, they had a nice dinner. I wrote this back before Mighty Nein Reunited came in and made my fics not canon-compliant, so I was working under the assumption that Beau and Yasha also lived in Rexxentrum, so maybe Caleb and Essek had dinner with them or maybe they stayed in. That can be up to the reader. Either way, it’s time for a fireplace, hot chocolate, and a cat, so it’s cozy vibes all around.

Let’s discuss the cat. I love cats. I don’t think that really leads into the discussion, but I gotta say it. It’s probably also pretty evident in how I wrote the cat. Anyway.

I haven’t written Caleb as adopting any cats of his own yet, and that’s because even this long after the campaign ended (1.5 years), he’s still not quite… settled. In 141, we’re given “six months to a year” before the shadowgast Aeor trip, which is implied to take place after the close of the Ikithon trial, and in my mind, it has always been much closer to that one year mark. So in the continuity of this fic series, Caleb spent the better part of a year dealing with the trial, which is not the most grounding thing to experience, and then he goes to Aeor with Essek for a month or two, during which he has to decide if he is going to risk the entire timeline to bring his parents back. That’s a lot. On both a material and spiritual level. And adopting a cat is big and permanent, and that’s just not where Caleb has been until quite recently. And it’s only now, after all this emotional turmoil has been resolved, that he is even able to start to settle into this life he’s making for himself, but he’s also still learning what that looks and feels like because he has next to no experience with a life of comfort and rest. The closest he got was his childhood, but that was 20 years ago, and even then, his life in Blumenthal is so drastically different from his current one. 

That’s where the title “How to Rest” comes from. Caleb doesn’t know how to properly rest and he’s trying to learn how. That’s also why he hasn’t started teaching at Soltryce even though that is very much his plan for the future. He needs to learn to live for himself for a while before he takes on the next big thing. Mentally, I am throwing blankets and pillows at him and begging him to take a nap.

…so yeah. no cat quite yet. 

But he does feed the strays, and he’s been doing that long enough that they know where he lives and that he’s a safe person to go to if, for example, they need a warm house to sleep in when it’s snowing in Rexxentrum.

Anyway, that’s a lot of preamble to discuss what is, essentially, 1500 words of Essek and Caleb kissing, but hey. that’s why we’re here :)

I’m not going to do a detailed breakdown of the initial cat section because it would pretty much just be, “hey, here’s a cat doing cute cat things and here’s Essek doing cute Essek things,” and I think that sums it up well enough.

They each drank from their cocoa, and as Caleb lowered his cup, he felt a tentative shoulder against his own. Essek was staring straight ahead, looking nonchalant as their arms brushed. Warmth flared in Caleb’s chest. He leaned further against Essek and caught a glimpse of the corner of Essek’s mouth pulling into a slight smile, despite his best efforts to hide it behind his mug.

It is still early enough in their relationship that Essek is still working out how to be direct, especially when it comes to bids for physical affection, but he’s self-aware enough that his coyness is more playful than it is an actual mask. He’s not really trying to hide his intentions, but he knows he is unable to just express them outright, so he does the “subtle” thing that his brain allows him, knowing that Caleb will understand and reciprocate.

He cupped Essek’s face in one hand and turned it towards him. Smiles such as the one Essek wore now—genuine smiles that touched his eyes and created a small dimple in his cheek—were once a rarity, but they seemed to be appearing with increasing frequency. At least whenever Caleb saw him.

Caleb gets a front row seat to the gradual lowering of Essek’s walls, and he is a big reason why Essek is able to! He makes Essek happy! These smiles are precious for those reasons and because Essek does not get the opportunity to be so genuine or so content most other places.

And something something who else does Essek let close enough—both emotionally and physically—to see all the ways his smile changes his face.

Then there’s cuddling and kissing, and they like each other so much, and it’s all very cute and sweet, but then we get into my grey-ace Caleb agenda. This is for two reasons: 1) set up the plot point for On the Nature of Attraction, and 2) the more grey-ace Caleb content there is, the happier I am.

He leaned forward eagerly, knowing how much closer he could hold him and how much better he could kiss him if they were laying down, without pesky things like knees and legs getting in the way.

This is Caleb’s intention. Nothing more than that. Caleb as the narrator is not obfuscating any secondary motive.

Essek tensed for a moment, as if he were considering something, then pushed them both upright with a small shake of his head.

Essek, however, cannot read Caleb’s mind, and isn’t sure if the motion to lay down is an implication of or invitation for sex. Certainly, the way romantic relationships are talked about would suggest that it is. And when confronted with the (perceived) possibility, Essek learns that his answer is “nope,” and he draws that boundary, which is readily accepted.

And it is because of this boundary that Essek establishes that Caleb realizes that his internal script for anything “romantic” that involves physicality has been very much affected by the Volstrucker training (see: that one tidbit Liam gave us in lockdown-era Talks Machina, that they were taught to be “as sexual as they needed to be” to get results for the Empire) and by his relationship with Astrid and Eadwulf being his main coping mechanism during that time. 

I have written in my notes for this chapter that Caleb has this internal script of “lots of kissing leads to intense make-outs leads to, if not sex outright, something more sexual than not.” And while I believe he understood in theory that this does not have to be the case, and that it certainly wouldn’t be the case with Essek this early on in their relationship, it isn’t until this moment that it really starts to sink in. And then he learns that he likes that they can just kiss and cuddle and that it doesn’t have to be a preamble to more sexual things, which he is also starting to get an inkling that maybe there’s some trauma mixed up in there.

and idk i think grey-ace Caleb is neat and considering the ways his trauma impacts that is cool (she says, feeling a great deal of complicated emotion)

Essek leaned fully into it, smiling and hooking his legs over Caleb’s so he was practically in his lap.

One thing I wrote when I was planning out this chapter was “this is a conversation without words.” Obviously, there’s some words still happening, but they’re not terribly explanatory, so they must rely on non-verbal cues.

With his boundary established and respected, and now that he has had a moment to come down from his initial “nope” and recognize Caleb’s action for what it really was—a desire for more physical closeness—Essek is able to respond in a way that meets both their needs.

“I am very happy that you are here,” he whispered.  Essek’s fingers curled tighter in Caleb’s hair, and he turned his head and pressed his nose to the side of Caleb’s. “As am I.”

They just like each other so much. And they make each other happy just by being there.

“Sometimes I wish we were back in Aeor,” Caleb said after a while.  “Do you now?” Essek sounded amused, if a bit drowsy. “Mm,” Caleb said with a nod. “I miss studying magic with you every day, knowing that you were always close by.” “I could do without the bitter cold and mage-killing monsters,” Essek chuckled. He tightened his arms around Caleb’s shoulders. “But yes. I miss that, too.”

One thing I frequently try to do when writing Caleb’s dialogue is have him say something that’s like, a few steps removed from what he actually means. People talk like this in general, but Caleb’s meaning tends to be a few more layers deep than the average person’s, especially when he is stressed or experiencing heightened emotion. It’s one of the things I like about him; I think it’s funny.

This exchange is a very obvious example of this: Caleb says something, Essek lightly challenges him on that, and then Caleb is able to state more clearly what it is he actually wants. In this case, while it’s still in the frame of Aeor, Caleb is able to tell Essek that he wants to spend more time with him and that he feels better when Essek is nearby. And Essek is able to reciprocate while still keeping it within the “safe” zone of “haha wouldn’t it be nice to be back in Aeor? haha jk… but?” They are starting to build ways of communicating with each other, and this is one of them.

“Where will you go after this?” Caleb asked.  “You know I can’t say.” He sighed. “I know. But you will be safe?” “I will, I promise. And I will see you again as soon as I am able.”

And the tragedy of their situation is that Caleb can’t know where Essek is most of the time, only that he will be far away, because that’s the best way to keep them both safe. And yes, Essek promises to be safe, but how much of that is within his control?

“I am afraid,” he said, taking Caleb’s hands from his waist and bringing them up to his lips, “that it is time for me to go.” Caleb groaned and felt his face contort into a pout that was almost embarrassing, except that it made Essek laugh, and it was a sound so beautiful that it washed away any feeling of shame, leaving only warm happiness in its stead. “Soon, Caleb Widogast,” Essek said as he kissed Caleb’s knuckles, voice brimming with fondness.

I love this image. It is so full of affection, particularly on Essek’s behalf. If I could figure out a good and interesting angle, I would draw it. I just think it’s cute and sweet and that’s what we’re really about over here.

Essek kissed him on the cheek. “Rest well.” “Travel safe.”

These are their hopes for each other at this point in time. Essek wants Caleb to have peace and rest, and Caleb wants Essek to be safe while he is alone on the road. They are very normal things to say when parting, but they are being completely earnest here.

So Essek leaves, and Caleb has a one-sided conversation with the cat. So to close out this chapter commentary, I will be showing you this scene again, with the cat dialogue included:

The cat he was hosting for the night, seeming to notice Caleb’s sudden lack of companionship, stood from his spot in front of the fire with a meow, stretched, and padded up to the couch. “Hello.” “Oh, hello. Do you need something from me?” Caleb asked.  The cat butted his head against Caleb’s legs, then ran the whole length of his body along his shins, tail curling around them. He meowed again—“I would like pets”—and looked up at Caleb with round, eager eyes.  “Oh, come here, Kätzchen.” Caleb scooped up the cat and laid down on the couch with him on his chest. “Thank you for keeping me company.” He scratched the cat’s ears and chin. “I think I must like him rather a lot, hm? To feel his absence so soon after he’s left.” “Perhaps you’re in love with him,” the cat chirruped as he settled into a loaf, paws softly kneading into Caleb’s shirt.  “Well, I don’t know if I would say that,” Caleb answered. “Something akin to it, maybe.” The cat pressed forward and rubbed his head along Caleb’s beard, purring loudly. “I think so.” “Probably,” Caleb conceded. “But patience, my friend. These things take time. It is not as simple for everyone else as it is for you.” Caleb kissed the cat on his little forehead and closed his eyes. Purrs rumbled through his chest and ribs, and he let the rhythm lull him into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.

And that’s Chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed! May you all have a nice nap with a purring cat (or whatever your preferred equivalent is).

Until next time!

#this one's less quote heavy than the last one. and probably the future ones #i have a headcanon to discuss. that being: #the grey-ace caleb widogast agenda #and the fact that with the way this chapter is it makes more sense to approach it this way #as a whole rather than line-by-line #long post #eve talks #eve's writing #how to rest #how to rest director's commentary #chattering at birds #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss

[cave-monkey]

It dawns on me that the journey to the west took 5,040 days exactly, right, and while the book goes from tribulation to tribulation, there were still only 81 of those. And they were missing one when they got there. And some of the tribulations Tripitaka went through happened before the journey even started.

So, even being generous and saying that most of the tribulations that occurred during the actual journey could be said to have taken a few days to handle each, that's still only about 10% of the journey. A tribulation was anything that happened that put Tripitaka in danger or presented any sort of obstacle to him. Anything even remotely exciting would have fallen into that ~10%, and nothing else could have happened, because otherwise they wouldn't have gotten west one moderate inconvenience and/or major trauma short of the prize. (I mean, unless the thing that happened managed to not involve Tripitaka at all in any way, but that's very hard to do when you are all attached at the hip.)

Holy cow they really were just walking. ALL THAT TIME. No wonder Zhu Bajie was stirring the pot at any given opportunity. It was literally the only thing to do.

#jttw personal #how did they not kill each other #I was thinking about this while still picking at chapter 27 #tripitaka was super gullible in that chapter in a sort of inexcusable way but also #it sooooort of makes sense when you think like #statistically #across the whole journey they could have gone moooonths between demons #years even #and suddenly sun wukong's claiming to have killed 3 (they didn't know it was the same demon) in a row in one morning? #even if tripitaka HAD believed him (or just harbored doubts) after the first one how likely was it the second was the case? or the THIRD? #obviously the evidence was in his face but couple the idea that their encounters with demons were actually SUPER rare #with the fact that tripitaka still had major trust issues with sun wukong from the fact he HAD trusted sun wukong previously #only to have that trust pretty solidly broken #and tripitaka's probably operating on a level of 'fool me once' hyper-vigilance against him that actually makes zhu bajie seem reasonable #I mean who are you going to trust? you and your own shitty judgement when you've already been wrong about the guy once before? #or the DEMON who probably knows more about DEMON MAGIC than you? #tripitaka's got TWO expert consults telling him two wildly opposing things but only ONE of them's seriously burned him in the past #(while the third expert consult and tie-breaker is notably abstaining. gdit sha wujing.) #anyway the characterization here is actually really good #tripitaka doesn't know the story framing - WE know something's up because otherwise we wouldn't have a story about it - #but tripitaka doesn't realize he's in a book #and I'm just saying tripitaka is being less foolish than the meta knowledge of being The Reader makes him seem #still a total brat though #he's definitely letting his own pride and hurt (and like...trauma) bias him against sun wukong unfairly #which is something he needs to work on and IS something that he pays for #(even with the bandits: expecting sun wukong to behave to tripitaka's standards of morality prior to TEACHING him those standards) #(wasn't fair. but also when he *tried* to address it sun wukong got angry and took off. and then tried to kill him. so.) #it's just interesting and whoever told this story originally was clearly putting a lot of thought into what it would be like #to actually be in these guys' shoes. Like ugh. HOW is this book so good?

[reefshark]

i think something a lot of people are already forgetting is that the doctor specifically told Kongo/Phos to burn the bridge once he crosses it, and are already getting antsy about what happened in chapter 98. To me this feels like him crossing the bridge? we still have, I believe, another volume or so At Least left to hnk and I think this next volume will be Phos’ process of ‘burning the bridge’. Like, we still don’t even know if Phos’ praying is bringing the result that is wanted, we just saw a giant explosion of sorts. That could lead to anything. 

#Houseki no Kuni #Land of The Lustrous #HNK Spoilers #like it COULD be that nothingness that was desired but ppl r ALSO forgetting achmea and kongo saying there was a way to help phos #and that topic wasnt further explained right #so we might see more on that whether it be flashbacks or what happens to phos after he prays #or again this could lead to the burning of the bridge #i dont think we're just gonna skip on to ohh happy and reincarnated #that just doesnt make sense for how ichikawa writes. #a lot of the things that people tend to hate in hnk is done so deliberately by ichikawa and i think with hnk wrapping up #hopefully! it'll all be addressed #including whats happening in chapter 98 #+ i feel like the parallels with welegato/achmea and antarc/kongo are going to be addressed??? i mean i hope they do #bc i...................................really fucking hate the fact welegato and antarc are seemingly besties LMFAO #god. well. time to wait another month to get any form of answer </3 #aechmea******

[flaresanimedump]

People keep talking about Bones doing Stormbringer as a movie or at the start of the inevitable upcoming season 5. And while I can see that argument (and I heard something about stormbringer being hinted at in the OP), I think it would be very funny if Bones did Beast instead.

Just imagine the fandom rage if Bones veers out of 5 episodes of Chuuya backstory for the Odazai love letter.

#I do have an analysis of why each one is likely or unlikely #and Beast is at the top of the list for relevance to the arc #I'm sorry pals there's no chance of 55 minutes until after this arc ends it'd be too weird to bring all the half-dead characters in #But Beast? Which not only explains how how the book works #but demonstrates it tangibly? #and is long enough to make up for the fact that most of the chapters after 80 are shorter than 40 pages and full of action #(read: they can be condensed up to 4 chapters per episode rather than the usual 1.5/ep)? #yeah that tracks #stormbringer could make it in but ONLY because of Chuuya's popularity #and I wouldn't be surprised if they did that I mean $$$$ #but narratively? nah Beast makes way more sense

[sylhea-raemi]

Airi playing an important role in the story but also the fact that she's the only proof of oda kazuha and saito tooru's existance on earth is wow

#look okay so like it's not confirmed how many times the other magicians can reincarnate but they CAN reincarnate more than once and CAN be #reincarnated to a different world. makia and thor are the prrof of that– not only that but airi being connected to both of them possessing #memories of kazuha and tooru's existance in airi's world.... #so airi's presence in maydare is the only proof of kazuha and toru existing in another world other than makia and thor themselves #because look thor STILL don't know about his past life as tooru but makia and airi knows #airi is what reminds kazuha of the other world other than her own memories makia is the only person who can remind airi of her previous wor #because airi had been shown being homesick in a certain way (the cuisine/food) and makia's the ONLY person she knows that have memories of #their life as japanese high school students. makia is the only person that reminds airi of her previous life- they're each other's proof of #their previous life's existance im gettung insane #but the thing is both of them are moving forward from their past but like there are remains of fondness of things they liked and that's ok! #it's like moving forward but still acknowledging their roots acknowledging what they were before acknowledging how far they've grown #cries i know im repeating myself and maybe not making sense but istg i didn't mean to shove thor away 💀💀💀💀 #im so sorry i know he's like. he appeared in the early chapters and i *did* like him but deadass would not care about him #it's only because of makia that i care about him im sorry the other characters captured my heart.. was it because he's out for a long while #but i like that type of shit when the ml is gone for some time and then they reunite... and the fact that other characters are out of scene #sometimes too so like? maybe im too biased sobbing what the hell #the savior's guardians are like. i don't really care abt them esp the two knights (leonhart or something and thor) #prince gilbert is annoying yeah but i don't hate him and my impression of his character improved reading through lady alicia arc #so yeah gilbert is annoying and pretty okay to me now but at least he's not a character i can easily forget lol #i think i need to REALLY reread mtm because i really could not bring myself to like thor higher than 'hes okay ig' #sylhea talks maydare

[kisskissgotohell]

it might need a reread once the full official tl comes out but i gotta say. based on one read, guardian (novel-only) did not feel like it actually went anywhere. it's like the novel equivalent of those posts where you learn something and the next reblog immediately refutes it. neutral experience.

#guardian spoilers in tags #like multiple times a character introduces a tension-causing plot point and then as soon as the arc is resolved #and in some cases within like. one or two chapters #the problem just immediately resets to nothing?? no consequences at all?? #at one point zhu hong 1. is made to resign immediately due to familial issues and 2. has a crush on zyl #and she immediately decides not to resign with no further familial strife/pushback AND accepts that zyl won't love her back with no issues #if there are no plot consequences then why did we introduce that. what was the point #or like. shen wei deliberately orchestrating every possible interaction he had with zyl #including the ones that provide the will they-wont they tension before and after they get together #in the service of them DYING TOGETHER #like it feels like the reveal was trying to be a gotcha moment but it just made their relationship feel more meaningless #and he doesn't even go through with it in the end!! i got a blissful thirty seconds of believing that #the reveal that every moment of narrative tension beforehand was worthless #was actually meaningful bc shen wei fucking died #but no! he comes back again! perfectly fine! BETTER in fact than beforehand! #and the only consequences there are zyl. pretending that he doesn't know him for a solid two minutes. thats it???? #it just feels like a whole lot of nothing. honestly it feels a little like priest came up with the relationship dynamic first #and built the entire world around trying to make it make sense #which isn't necessarily a bad way to write a story i just wish it had been handled a bit better #also slightly unrelated but did i misread it?? bc what the hell was up with ghost face's parting line #i genuinely thought his death was setting up for another 20 chapters of plot where he comes back #bc hes like 'ohhh shen wei u wanted to defeat me w/o ever fighting me directly well guess what! u won't get away w that forever! #ill force u to fight me directly just u wait!' #AND THEN HE FUCKING DIES????? and its anticlimactic bc the main characters are barely involved? #like sir. come back and do this right.

[loregoddess]

honestly I love, love, love that Octopath II keeps the wild variation between different character stories, I completed one of Temenos and one of Ochette's chapters back-to-back bc they were in the same town, and the amount of tonal dissonance is crazy bc Temenos's story is far more serious and somber, while Ochette's is wild and unrestrained fun, but I love it so much. Bunch of weirdos hanging out together helping each other out despite being on polar opposites of the story tone spectrum

#also I'm...getting the feeling there is far more than four chapters per character for this game #honestly everything feels like there so much more and it's great #I always had this nagging feeling that the original Octopath was incomplete #like the dev team ran out of production time for some things but still wrapped up the project w/ enough polish to call it finished #but like the fact that only two final bosses had in-battle dialogue and only one was voiced #like sure not all of the final bosses would have had dialogue but it's weird that more of them didn't #also Kit's entire side story felt like it could have been an entire set of four ''united'' chapters where all the characters work together #which would explain why Galdera's battle sprite is insane amounts of detailed if he was intended to be the ACTUAL final boss for the game #I mean I have no proof of any of this it's just more...the feeling I get bc of some elements feeling incomplete or like #''we don't have time to finish this so let's just polish it up so it's at least presentable and still plays well'' kinda feeling #if that makes sense #ANYHOW #I'm really glad to see how much more Octo II is able to do like #there's just so much stuff but in a good way #oracle of lore