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#have been forced to marry whoever else became the ruler

chibinekochan · 3 years

Text

How to become a Demon Ruler 109

Part: 01 I 02 I 03 I 04 I 05 I 06 I 07 I 08

GN. Reader insert

taglist: @ayesha95 ; @nomnomcupcakesworld ; @fex-phoenix ; @depressed-bixch ; @kitsune-oji

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With a slight spring in my step, I head to dinner.

"Good evening Diavolo and Barbatos." I happily greet them both.

Barbatos gives me his signature smile.

Diavolo lights up as soon as he sees me. "You look like you had a great time."

"Yeah, I was a bit nervous, but I think I made my first friend." I smile with some pride.

"That's great to hear. To be honest I was a bit worried that you might feel lonely." Diavolo looks like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

"I'm very happy for you. Even when I hope you choose your friends more carefully." Barbatos sighs just a bit.

My guess is, that Mammon is a bit of a troublemaker. "There is no need to worry. I mean I have you and Barbatos. I only know you for a few days, but you are both very dear to me." It's a bit embarrassing to say out loud.

Both seem equally surprised by my words.

"It's the greatest honor to be regarded as your friend." Barbatos is the first to respond. It's a bit hard to tell his true thoughts, but he looks very happy to me.

"I feel the same way. I hope we will become even closer. It's funny to think that it's not even been a week yet, but I can't even imagine the castle without your presence." Diavolo’s smile seems to glow even brighter than usual.

I might need sunglasses at this point.

Despite this, his words feel warm inside my chest. "I feel the same way. I think I never even realized how lonely my life truly was."

I smile a bit sad but also happy at the same time.

Then I feel a hand on my shoulder. "Worry not, your days alone are over." Barbatos’ words are unusually tender. My smile brightens at his words.

"I hug him. Who could say no to him?

Barbatos chuckles behind me. This must be a very strange sight, to be honest.

I don't mind since hugging Diavolo feels much better than I expected. He is very warm, much like his big hands.

I bet I could use my whole human strength, and he wouldn't even wince. He might even enjoy a good bear hug, maybe next time.

I let go of Diavolo, who kind of looks like he wants more hugs but doesn't say a word. Instead, he just smiles at me.

"Well now, where we are even you should finish today's work." Barbatos is back to smile as usual. Diavolo sighs.

"Fine, I will go back to work." His shoulders slump.

Barbatos shakes his head.

"I know it's late, but I would recommend that you read a bit in the library. There is much to learn. Especially with our tight schedule." Barbatos talks gently to me.

"You are probably right. I need some caffeine for that." I can only imagine the stack of books that Barbatos wants me to read.

"I will make you some. Please go ahead." Barbatos still has some tasks to do, and I appreciate the offer.

"Okay." So I head to the library and find a menacing stack of books.

After some reading, I hear Barbatos arriving with my fuel.

I give him a thankful look. "I have been waiting for this."

Barbatos chuckles. "If only everyone would be so excited about coffee."

I decide to take a small break and now that I'm alone with Barbatos it's the perfect opportunity to ask him about what Mammon told me earlier.

"Do you want to join me for a cup?" I offer Barbatos the seat across from me.

"I would be delighted." He sits down and pours himself a cup.

I let him drink a sip and then get straight to the topic that's on my mind. "To be honest there is something that I want to ask you about."

"Please go right ahead." He obviously doesn't mind.

"The question I have is pretty personal, so you don't have to answer." I don't want him to be uncomfortable or reveal something that he shouldn't.

Barbatos raises his eyebrows. "There is no need to worry about my comfort."

I can only imagine what he thinks I'm about to ask.

"I just heard something about Diavolo possibly dating Lucifer. I'm curious if that's true?" There is no talking around my question.

Barbatos' eyes widen for a moment, and then he starts to smirk devilishly. "I can imagine who brought you to ask this, but I wonder why you would care about such a thing?"

For the first time since I know him, I believe that he is a demon.

"I care for his well-being." I avoid his gaze.

Barbatos seems to be very amused. "Is that so?" He gazes into my eyes, like doing so will reveal my true thoughts to him. "You don't need to worry about their relationship at all." He is very vague.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, feeling very frustrated.

"Hmm, that is a good question." Barbatos is just teasing me now. I never thought he would do this to me. I puff my cheeks.

This causes Barbatos to laugh. "I'm sorry master. They aren't dating at all. I'd say they are friends with much baggage." With the biggest grin, he flat out tells me the truth.

"I see, so they have a long history. I guess it would be fair to ask them about that." I feel much better now knowing this.

"Now I have to wonder if you might be interested in the young lord?" He looks at me with a pretty intense gaze.

Now it's my turn to be surprised by a question. I almost spit my drink out.

"Umm, well I mean… it's not like I don't like him, but I barely know him and want to make sure that I don't fall for someone that is already taken." I'd hate wasting my time and emotions on a pointless endeavor.

A smile forms on Barbatos’ face. "That is very smart of you. I would support your future together."

"As much as I appreciate your support, I haven't fallen for him yet and there might be other people that I'm possibly interested in." I feel the need to correct Barbatos on his assumptions.

He looks once again surprised. "I hope you don't include Mammon on that list." He must disapprove of Mammon.

"Of course not. I'm not known to fall easily for people." I shake my head. Not only that, but I have only seen Mammon once after all.

Barbatos then thinks deeply. "But who else is there?" He doesn't realize the obvious answer. I have always seen him as a very smart, possibly cunning, man. Yet here he is completely oblivious.

I narrow my eyes in frustration. "Look in a mirror."

"Hmm? You couldn't possibly mean…" Barbatos looks utterly and completely lost. I wonder if he looked like this when I hugged him earlier.

I sigh deeply. "Believe it or not, but you are on that list." I can't even really call it a list with two people on it.

Barbatos almost seems to gasp for air. "As flattering as this is, please reconsider. I'm no worthy match for someone of your standing."

"Just because I got forcefully adopted doesn't make me royalty, but I apologize for making you uncomfortable." I assume that he simply wants to shoot me gently down.

"You are royalty in my opinion, and I appreciate your consideration. I simply have to think about what is best for your future. I'm merely a humble servant and as such completely unfitting to be your partner." Barbatos sounds completely logical. I'm unsure how to feel about him seeing me as royalty.

"I don't care what other people might think about whom I love or not. To me, it's only important that we are a great match. Of course, I understand that you might not be interested in me." This would only make sense. He might not even be interested in dating at all.

“You are certainly interesting, and I can see you fighting whoever doesn’t accept your relationship. I might be worried about nothing.” He gives me a small smile.

“Of course, besides if, I’m the demon ruler there is no way I'd let anyone tell me who I'm allowed to marry or not. If there is a rule against it, I will simply change it.” I shrug with a small giggle.

Barbatos gives me a chuckle. “I fear for anyone that would dare to oppose you.” His eyes meet mine again. It feels somehow very tender. “Don't forget that I will always be at your side no matter what you wish to accomplish.”

I ponder the weight and meaning of these words. My heart beats faster for some reason.

Before I can give him a proper response the library door opens with great force.

I back a bit off, seeing that I somehow became quite close with Barbatos during our conversation. I hadn't even noticed until this moment.

I then look towards the door and see it's Diavolo. He has his trademark smile and looks very energetic. At least until he notices that I'm relaxing with Barbatos.

"Ah, here you are." He looks at Barbatos, who turned towards him.

"Have you been looking for me?" Barbatos seems slightly surprised.

"No, I was looking for my sibling. Since I finally managed to get everything done." Diavolo boasts without a hint of shame.

"This is certainly an evening to rejoice." Barbatos seems genuinely pleased, but it's a pretty obvious snide remark.

"Yes, it is! I hope I didn't interrupt anything." Diavolo doesn't seem to notice the snaky undertone and just casually sits down next to me.

"No need to worry. We just were talking about their goals after becoming the demon ruler." Barbatos grins slightly.

While not a lie it's not the truth either.

"Really? Now that is something I'm very interested in." Diavolo is seriously interested.

It makes me feel quite guilty. "I was only saying that I'd change rules if they would forbid me from loving whom I wish to love."

Diavolo looks at me in awe. "So you have a potential prospect to marry? You certainly move quickly. Or is it a fellow human?"

"No, there is no such person right now. I had nobody when I lived in the human realm. I was only talking hypothetically." I sigh, I can only wonder how Diavolo thinks of me.

"Ahh, well, I'd abolish any rule that would inconvenience you anyway. So no need to worry about that." Somehow Diavolo looks relieved.

"That is very kind of you. Even when it might be a bit reckless to say." I can picture him just changing rules on a whim without thinking about the consequences.

"I have to agree on that." Barbatos calmly keeps drinking his tea. Without a worry about anything. I have no idea how he can do this.

"You might be right, but if it's for you, I don't care." Diavolo shrugs.

How can he just say things like this?

I look at him, feeling very baffled but also slightly amazed.

I glance at Barbatos looking for some reaction. He just crooks his head and calmly smiles at me, as if to ask me what I want.

"I guess in that case I'll be careful what I ask of you." This seems to be the best solution.

"That is wise of you. You should make sure to gain knowledge as well. So you can request everything you desire without causing havoc." Barbatos casually shoves the stack of books towards me.

"I'd rather accomplish my goals by working hard, but you are right. I need more knowledge for that." I can't stand the idea of getting everything handed to me on a silver platter.

"I'd love to hear more about these goals." Diavolo beams at me with great expecting eyes.

Barbatos is also strangely focused on me. It's pretty embarrassing.

"Well, my first goal is to survive the party and then my education." It's not a grand plan, but it's important.

"That is a very reasonable goal. I'm sure you will be able to manage that. Of course, you still have some learning to do." Barbatos' taps on the books. He couldn't be more blatant even if he tried.

"Indeed I have full confidence in your abilities." Diavolo has zero doubts, which is encouraging, but I also feel the weight of his trust.

I guess I have no choice. "In that case, I will work hard." I look with dread at the books and then take one.

Barbatos smiles brightly, surely a sign of his victory.

"Do your best! I should go and check on the party preparations." Diavolo seems suddenly very motivated.

"You have a great effect on the young lord. I shall support him. Make sure you get plenty of rest." Barbatos beams with pride.

"I will, thank you both." I smile at them, but internally I'm crying.

So I study until my head is mush and then fall into a deep sleep.

I dream of letters chasing me.

#obey me #How to become a Demon Ruler #demon ruler 101 #omswd #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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hvproductions · 3 years

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SUMMARY: Rumors of a woman who can see the future reach Prince Oleg's ears. He decides to have her for himself, no matter the cost.

FANDOM: Vikings

PAIRING: [Female] Reader x Prince Oleg

WORD COUNT: 1251

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The dreams started just at the mere age of nine.

They were nothing special, not at first. Filled with the people from your village, one you saw every day of your life. They were happy ones, showing a birth of a child or a wedding of a happy couple before they quickly turned into dreams filled with blood and death. Even then you forgot about them quickly; a child of nine years had other things to worry about, until you realized that your dreams of darkness became true.

Wars, famine, sickness - everything that filled your dreams became true in the world when you were awake. Unknown people now filled your dreams, ones that you had never seen before in your life. You didn't understand the reason behind them, couldn't phantom why it was you who saw them.

Everything started to make more sense when your mother told you of the gift your grandmother had possessed. She too had seen things that became true, and it was her grandmother before her who shared the same curse. A curse that would bless one generation of women of your family, and doom the next one.

It all appeared in your dreams - your father dying in battle, your mother dying in the hands of invaders as well as your sister marrying a son of an earl. No matter how many times you tried to change what you saw, destiny couldn't be changed. God had already determined who lived and died, and a young woman from a Kievan Rus's village couldn't do anything against the will of God, no matter how hard she tried.

Rumors quickly spread across the whole kingdom of a woman who could see the future. Day after day, people in search of answers would appear in the hopes that you could provide them with answers which was something that you couldn't always do. There was no way to control what - and who - appeared in your dreams, and more often than you liked the people were forced to return with no new information in regard to their destiny. Yet it was the people with answers who carried on the tales of your gift; through your dreams you already knew that they would soon reach the ears of Oleg of Novgorod, and when they did, your whole life would completely change.

Yet it was impossible to know whether it was for the best or for the worst.

It was you who knew of him before he learnt of your existence.

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One feast would change everything for Oleg.

The ruler was growing tired of the celebration, having danced his dances and drank his cups of wines, yet it was impossible to leave. He didn't know the name of the man of his court who suddenly started whispering to his companion of a woman who saw the future, nor did he care for it. His boredom almost instantly gone, Oleg downed the last of his wine before the cup landed onto the table with a loud thud that alerted the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

"You," Oleg yelled with his loud commanding voice that everyone in his court had grown to know well, pointing towards the man as a sign for him to step forward, "who is this woman you speak of?"

His curiosity had already gotten the best of him - with a slightly shocked impression the unknown man walked in front of him, bowing which Oleg now cared nothing for.

"Y/N, daughter of Vladimir, from the village of Smolensk. They say that she sees dreams that come true."

"And what dreams has she seen?"

"I'm not sure, my lord. Wars, attacks, deaths I have heard about, but I cannot be sure." With a wave of his hand Oleg dismissed the man as silence overtook the room before he ordered the music to be played again. Laughter echoed through the halls once more; everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves, everyone except for him.

There could be only one prophet in the Kievan Rus', and that was him. Whoever dared to claim this title from him would meet their death, as would Y/N from the village of Smolensk.

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When men with swords came for you under the order of Prince Oleg, you were not surprised. It was something you had already foreseen, along with what would happen to you once you were in the presence of Prince Oleg whom you had heard so much of. It was him they called the 'prophet', and great tales of his prophecies that came true had also reached Smolensk. People compared you to him, spoke of God and the two of you as his emissaries on Earth.

You knew it was not true, yet it was impossible to prove otherwise. Once the people of Smolensk believed in something, nothing could make them renounce that belief.

Shocked and worried faces accompanied you on your way to a horse that you were forced upon. Once the people of your village saw the calm smile directed towards them they instantly knew this event was supposed to happen. Yet the worry didn't disappear, for they had no knowledge of what would happen to you once in the presence of Prince Oleg.

For days, Oleg impatiently waited for you to appear in front of him. He began to doubt whether his soldiers had succeeded in their task; the only thing stopping him from taking a horse and riding in search of you himself was the issue with his brother Dir he had to deal with. The day of his wedding was approaching, yet he could hardly think of his future wife Katia - he cursed you for occupying his thoughts and for not wanting to leave, day or night.

From the first moment he saw you, Oleg knew he wanted you for himself. He had expected to see an old woman as a seer, yet what he saw was completely opposite - a young woman, slightly over the age of twenty, with long hair and an elegant figure that seemed worthy of a leader. With your head held high you seemed to be challenging him, and while anyone else would have lost their head for it, Oleg couldn't imagine that happening to you.

"You wished to see me, Prince Oleg?" Even your voice sounded as perfection to him. For a moment he had forgotten the reason he had wanted you there, yet it quickly came back to him - your death had been the reason he searched for you; he quickly decided that in no way was it possible for him to be responsible for your death. If anything, he would make sure to protect you for the rest of his life for however long that was.

"I have heard rumors of your powers of seeing the future. I wanted to see if they were true."

You couldn't help but to laugh at the lie the prince was telling you. Confusion in his face, you walked closer to the throne Prince Oleg was sitting on, stopping in front of him with a glance that spoke of more knowledge than he could ever hope to achieve.

"I know that the reason I'm here is because you want to kill me. But I can promise you this: my death will come when yours will, and yours won't come for many years."

#HVProductions #HopeVainProductions #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Oleg The Prophet #Oleg The Prophet Imagine #Oleg Of Novgorod #Oleg Of Novgorod Imagine #Oleg x Reader #Oleg/You #Oleg/Reader #Oleg Vikings #Oleg Vikings Imagine #Imagine #Imagines

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eunsoyi · 4 years

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#1 + daichi? congrats on 100 followers btw!!

the next king

sawamura daichi was the nicknamed the strongest and the bravest knight in his country. even for his young age, he was admittedly better than his superiors. his talents are what caused him to climb up the ranks, but as his power and responsibility heightened, guilt was slowly swallowing him whole.

in a world where monarchy exists, wars were inevitable. as he was a soldier himself, it was his duty to protect the country he serves, no matter what it takes. the word ‘protect’ was highly ambiguous, though. does killing innocent people who are not the same race as him count as protecting? does ruining communities and bombing up places define as protecting? he did not become a knight for him to become a murderer.

thus, he retired. people looked at him weirdly, saying things like ‘it’s a waste’ or ‘you have so much more potential if you’re in the military’, but for daichi, living a peaceful life as a regular person was enough.

that peace was suddenly broken, though, when the palace suddenly issued an order to summon him. he was confused, of course, and all his possible wrongdoings suddenly flashed into his mind. he could disobey and not show up, but that would mean more trouble, so he did not have much of a choice.

he had been to the palace once or twice in his life during meetings. he didn’t get the chance to explore or meet other members of the royal family other than the king. thus, his reaction to the person who greeted him was justifiable.

“hey.” was all she said.

daichi blinked. he wasn’t dreaming, was he?

the girl was accompanied by at least ten maids and butlers. she was wearing a long, fancy dress, her hair was tied into a braided bun with a few strands falling on her face, her cheeks were rosy, and she radiated poise and perfection.

if not only for that dreaded, unprofessional ‘hey’.

“uh, hi?”

she giggled. “i’m not really into formalities. plus, we’re the same age.” she explained. she gestured for him to accompany her as she toured him around her majestic house. daichi inwardly groaned in jealousy. how he wished he was living the same luxury as she does.

daichi gave another glance at the girl walking beside him. she was no doubt the king’s youngest child, the only princess in the family. he wasn’t going to lie, she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, but that seemed obvious. after all, she is royalty.

she led him to her office and ushered him to sit down on one of the big chairs in front of her desk. “i’m so sorry i called you here on such short notice, but i need your help.”

“wait, you were the one who summoned me?” he asked. “uh.. y-your majesty?” he sat upright.

“pft, please, stop being so uptight. loosen up.” she chuckled. she fumbled with some of her folders. “yes, i really, really need your help.”

“for what?”

she hid behind her folders, blushing red. she mumbled something incoherent that daichi had to lean closer to hear her. “princess? i can’t hear-”

“i want you to teach me how to fight.” she finally said while her cheeks blushed redder, but she still avoided his eyes.

“why? you don’t have any reason to fight.” he frowned.

“this is so embarrassing.” she muttered to herself. she cleared her throat and gained her composure as she finally made eye-contact with him. “my brothers and i will be formally fighting in a brawl.”

“and?”

“you were the strongest knight my father ever had. and i wanna win! i wanna win so bad, i wanna crush their heads and finally beat them for good.” she said in a rather menacing tone, daichi swore her eyes started throwing daggers to the air. as if she has a switch, she was back to her usual, proper self and face him once more.

“so will you help me?”

isn’t this just a waste of time? daichi wanted to ask, but he agreed anyway. he didn’t have anything else better to do, after all.

the princess then went on to explain the reward for this job, and the perks that go along with it. he was given his own private quarters, breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all free, and he gets a hefty amount of gold once she wins the said brawl. not too shabby of a proposition.

the next few days were rather entertaining for daichi.

he never expected the princess to be so.. manly. she was already super strong to the point where daichi even wondered whether he was really needed, or was he just there to boost her ego. when he mentioned this to her, she gave him her tiger-like glare that made him flinch and basically growled, “i need to be better.” daichi backed away, holding his hands up in the air in a surrender position and let her do her thing.

they trained for days, weeks, months. he started to wonder when this said brawl would happen, but he did not question any further (he really didn’t want to see her annoyed face again, it almost scared him to death) until the princess finally announced the date of the fated day.

“i’m fighting them tomorrow.” she suddenly said, gulping down her water and wiped her mouth.

“oh.. kay.” he replied. “can i ask you something?”

“yeah, shoot.”

“why are you treating this wrestling match of yours as a big deal? i mean, it’s just a fight between siblings.” he asked. the princess tried to say something, but quickly closed her mouth when daichi interrupted her. “and no, i don’t want to hear your ‘i wanna win’ speech again. i need a valid reason.”

she pursed her lips and looked down.

daichi laughed nervously. “look if you don’t want to say it then it’s fine! i’m not forcing you-“

“this kingdom needs a leader.” she suddenly spoke, shushing daichi down. he did not reply, and waited for her to continue. “i’m the youngest child, and a girl. my future is basically my father marrying me off to someone rich and my ending would be that i’d be a mother of kids i don’t even love, and i would be inferior to my husband.”

“uh..” daichi tried to find the words to say, but failed horribly. she ignored him and continued to speak.

“to avoid that, i should be the queen. no, i’d be the king if i have to.” her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “in all honesty, i’m more qualified than my good-for-nothing brothers. all they know and prioritize are riches and women. the shallowest of them all.”

“what’s the fight got to do with this?” he asked.

“my father gave me a challenge. if i beat my brothers in a fight, i’d be the next in line for the throne, and they will be below me.”

the two of them stayed silent for a while. daichi understood where she was coming from, and he admired her determination. he inwardly sighed, thinking that this country really does need someone like her to lead, someone who’s strong and passionate, and someone who is aware of their own privileges and actually use them for the benefit of the people.

he let out a deep breath and faced her. he held out his hand, urging her to stand up. “come on. let’s train some more.” he smiled as she gripped his hand and pushed herself up. “let’s win this, your highness.”

the day of the fight finally came, and it was nothing like daichi has ever seen.

there were spectators above, watching and cheering for the brothers. he counted the princess’ supporters and was actually not surprised that she had very few. the king and his wife were seated at the very top, looking down on the arena.

he smirked. she was going to beat them all, and she was going to be the future king.

he crossed his arms as he leaned on one of the pillars on the side of the arena. he was nervous, but he was confident.

the princess was the strongest person he had ever met.

the siblings came out one by one, and the tension in the arena rose. she had three older brothers, so the matches were in a winner versus winner system, where they’d pair up and whoever wins will get to advance to the next round.

the eldest and the third oldest were to fight first. it was intense, even for a professional like daichi. they exhibited elite moves where they’d even beat the best knights and soldiers in the country with their technique. he started to sweat and wondered whether the princess would even succeed or not.

he shook his head. this wasn’t the time to doubt.

in the end, the eldest won the first match. the next match was hell for daichi. he really didn’t expect that the second oldest brother would go too hard on the princess.

she struggled as she tried to get even a few hits in. her brother laughed and yelled for the whole arena to hear, “aren’t you being too cocky, little sister?”

she fumed and charged straight at him, but she was immediately pinned down. daichi was at the edge now. he felt his heart beat way too quickly out of anxiety. her face was being pushed rather harshly into the sandy ground, she was basically eating dirt at this point while her brother endlessly jeered at her.

“you can do it! stand up!” daichi found himself yelling at the top of his lungs. the princess met his eyes, and her look changed. he finally saw the familiar tiger-like glance he had been seeing for months.

she pushed her brother away and stood up. the match continued on immediately. they exchanged punches and kicks that for a normal person, was way too rough to even bear.

the princess won the second match by a slim chance.

they weren’t given time to rest. the next battle started almost immediately after the jury announced her win. tension was at its peak, and daichi felt it crawl under his skin. she was fighting the crown prince, the supposed to be next ruler of the kingdom. if she beats him, the hierarchy within their family will shift.

the future of the whole country lies within this particular match, thus, pressure among the siblings and the spectators became too thick, it was almost suffocating.

daichi swore he almost blacked out as he watched the two siblings fight each other. the eldest son was strong indeed, to the point where daichi himself can’t even find the words to describe how much strength the crown prince has. but the princess has her own strength as well, and daichi silently prayed as she exhibited this rather well during the fight.

the princess found herself in difficult situations countless times during the long match.

in the end, she prevailed by finally getting in a hard punch on her brother’s face, which rendered him unconscious. shocked by her own strength, she met daichi’s eyes once again and smiled.

“you did it,” he mouthed. she didn’t wait for the official announcement to come out and ran up to daichi immediately.

“i won. i beat them. i actually won.” her eyes teared up.

“i’m so proud of you, your majesty.” daichi winked, and she punched his arm lightly in a joking manner.

“i owe you a lot, sawamura daichi.” she breathed out a sigh of relief.

“it’s nothing.”

“can i ask you another favor?” she said.

“what?”

“can you stay by my side? y’know, as i rule the country or whatever.” her lips pouted as she blushed pink, looking down on her feet.

“ruling the country isn’t whatever, princess.” he chuckled. “and you could’ve worded that better, considering you had elite education and all that. you’re not very eloquent, are you?”

she huffed and threatened to punch him again. god, he thought. maybe teaching her violence was a mistake.

“just answer the damn question.”

he laughed once more at her reaction and pat her head. he still couldn’t believe it. someone so small and proper like her beating two grown men (the third brother didn’t even get a chance) and ended up being the next king? it was almost like a miracle.

“alright. i look forward to working with you, your majesty.”

ok i finally finished this jesus christ. pls save me i wanna drop out of uni :)

#daichi headcanons #daichi hcs #daichi scenarios #daichi fluff #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq fluff #hq hcs #hq headcanons

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megalony · 4 years

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The King’s heir

This is a new King! Ben Hardy series I am going to be working on which I hope everyone is going to like. Feedback is always appreciated.

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Summary: (Y/n) wants to have a child and it is expected of Ben to have an heir to the throne, but Ben doesn't want a child. He has a genetic disorder that impacts his everyday life which he's afraid will be passed down to his child.

Enjoy.

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"You stupid boy, what are you trying to do? They are your council, your advisers, you can't say something like that and just walk out!" The words were spat from his lips like they were a vile taste on his tongue that he wanted rid of. There was a burning passion of fire in his eyes that was directed onto his son who he was almost running after down the long corridor.

The polished floor provided the right surface to pronounce the clicking of boot heels that sounded furious and fast-paced and gave the impression that they were about to break the floor beneath them.

When those words reached his ears, the blond felt the way his boots skidded against the polished floor to come to a sudden halt. His blood was beginning to boil like it was burning on high heat and he couldn't stop the way that his upper lip curled in distaste. When he turned around to face his father, his back clicked into place as it straightened out and his shoulders seemed to extend and push back in some sort of defence. His height towered over his father and his hands curled into fists at his sides like he was tempted by the idea of using them to get his point across.

"You forget who you're talking to." Ben's voice was dripping with venom in such a low tone that his father had never heard before. "They are my council, my advisers and they run on my authority and I will not have the likes of them or you telling me what I should do with my life. They are there to advise on my ruling as King and that matter does not come under my proficiency as ruler. Do not speak out of term to me again."

Ben could see the way that his words were like fuel to the flame and he knew how they infuriated his father because Ben held the highest authority and the higher power out of them both. He held more power than anyone in the country and that was something his father didn't like.

Family didn't come into this matter, Ben wouldn't have anyone speaking out of term like that to him and he certainly wasn't letting his father get away with it when he had tried to gain power over Ben in the meeting they just had. He wasn't allowing someone else to gain the upper hand on him like that when they held no right whatsoever.

"I'm afraid, my Lord, that this matter is one that comes under both your life and your reign. You'd do good to remember that."

"And I think you'll find it good to remember that after ten years on this throne you've never held the power to influence my actions and none of your advisers have controlled me. You won't succeed in undermining me now leave." Irritation rattled through Ben's body when he felt his father's presence like a constant shadow following him wherever the sun may shine.

When Ben forced open the doors to the drawing room and walked in like a man on a mission, his ever faithful shadow followed in suit and quickly ordered the maid and two guards to leave the room like he himself was the King instead of Ben. A look of concern washed over (Y/n)'s face when she caught sight of her husband and father-in-law who both looked like they were about to explode. It was normal for (Y/n) to witness their brawls and arguments but never had she seen them both look at each other with mutual hatred before.

"There's your wife, tell her what you did and maybe see if she can change your stubborn mind." When he waved his arm out in (Y/n)'s direction Ben reached over and forcefully pushed his arm down like he was trying to break it off.

"Don't point at my wife like that who- if you've forgotten, you didn't want me to marry in the first place. Don't bring her into this just because you're fighting a losing battle." Ben snapped when he roughly let go of his father's arm, there was no need for him to be rude and objectify (Y/n) like that.

Leaning her head on her hand, (Y/n) crossed one leg over the other as she waited for them to calm down. They certainly looked like little boys who were fighting over the same toy and this same record could get awfully annoying after listening to it for days on end. She didn't know what they were fighting about this time but she could wager a guess that it wasn't anything that warranted such an argument. If she was being brought into this then (Y/n) knew it had to be something they both thought strongly about.

Ben's father liked (Y/n) enough but he had been off with her in the first two months of her and Ben's marriage because she wasn't a Queen or a princess. She was of high status but not high enough to marry a King, Ben's father thought. But with the kind of person Ben was, being stubborn, his own person and rather spiteful at times, he didn't batter one eyelid when his father told him not to (or more that he wasn't permitted to) marry (Y/n). Ben loved her and so he would do as he pleased, just like he had always done.

"What are you going on about now?" (Y/n) broke the argument to voice her question but she could see in the look Ben gave her that he didn't want her input on this. Either he thought it wasn't worth it or he thought she wouldn't be on his side in this battle.

"His highness here just walked out of a meeting that wasn't finished after declaring that he wasn't going to produce an heir to the throne and he didn't care who took the throne after him. Now the council is in debate about what to do and they aren't friendly with him now either. Well done, son, truly."

Ben pursed his lips as his head leaned to the side when his eyes locked with (Y/n)'s and he noticed the emotions swirling around in her pupils. He didn't want this argument with (Y/n) but he'd just brought it upon himself by letting his father tell her what had happened. Breaking their gaze, Ben turned around so he was facing his father and walked daringly over to him until there was almost no space between them.

"If I don't want children it's because of what you caused so you can blame yourself for that one. Now get out." Reaching his hand out, Ben pushed his father backwards but one push almost made the older man fall onto the floor with the force Ben held within him. He clenched his hands into fists but didn't manage to strike when (Y/n) wrapped herself around his arm and pulled him backwards.

"Don't hurt yourself, I'm not dragging you back upstairs again now calm down." (Y/n) kept hold of Ben until his father left the room, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as the door was closed (Y/n) let go of Ben and moved so she was standing in front of him, her arms folded over her chest as a look of betrayal crossed her face which made Ben feel guilty. (Y/n) was the only person whose opinion meant something to Ben, he valued her input more than anyone on his own council who he had known for a decade and that meant something. He loved her, he didn't want to hurt her or cause her any pain but he knew his words would break her.

"Why would you do that?"

"(Y/n) don't look at me like that-"

"Then don't go and make statements like that without telling me or making my views clear on the matter. Ben you can't do that, you can't say shit like that to spite the council no matter if you don't like them or not." (Y/n) dragged her fingers through her hair, catching her nails in a few knots that she couldn't be bothered to unravel right now.

"I didn't say it to spite anyone, I said it because it's true. You knew before you married me that I don't want a child and I won't have them trying to tell me that it's my duty. This throne will go to whoever is next in line, I don't have to create someone to stick in that throne it is not my duty." Ben tried to keep his voice level but the more he spoke, the more power he felt behind each word and the more desperate he became to get someone to understand.

Only a small handful of people knew the reason Ben didn't want a child but it infuriated him to have people tell him it was his duty. Not every King or Queen had children and some of them even decided not to as opposed to not being able to reproduce. Ben didn't want a child and he would not be told by stuck up, inferior men that it was what he was here for. Ben was the King and he was doing a damn good job at ruling the country but he didn't have to give them an heir, it didn't matter whether he had a child or not because it was his and (Y/n)'s business, not anyone else's.

"No, Ben, it's not that you don't want a child it's that your afraid and I understand. Go ahead and tell the council it isn't your job to give them a new King or Queen I understand that but don't tell them we're definitely not having a child because you've made that decision without me."

(Y/n) shook her head at her husband before attempting to walk away but she didn't get very far before Ben's hand was curled around her upper arm, pulling her into his chest.

"I got angry and I said something I shouldn't, I'm sorry. But I'll admit to you that I don't think a child is something I want. You've seen the way I have to live and what this does to me (Y/n), you can't tell me you want to burden a baby with this the way I was?" Ben may have got carried away but his point was still valid and they both knew it. He has reasons for saying what he did and he wasn't going to ignore them or act like he never said them because he did and it was important.

A sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips before she slowly turned around so she was properly facing Ben. She reached up to caress the side of his face, her eyes meeting his own when he leaned into the touch.

"But they might not have it, Ben. And even if they did, what does it matter? It's not life threatening and we can get them through it just like we are doing with you." (Y/n) brushed her thumb over Ben's cheek, knowing she sounded like she was becoming desperate and maybe she was, but with good reason. (Y/n) wanted a baby, she really wanted a baby and she wanted one with Ben. She loved him and they were married, this was the next step but Ben was holding back because of a worry that might not happen. But even if his worry came true, they could get through it.

"Sweetheart, we have a fifty percent chance of me giving my disorder to them, that's a rather big gamble to take. If I can't handle this, how can you expect a child to get through it? This lasts a lifetime-"

"Your parents made that choice and yes, maybe it didn't work for them but it might work for us. They had you, that's a pretty big positive despite what you have to go through."

A growl formed at the back of Ben's throat as he shook his head before leaning down to rest his temple against hers. Ben loved every inch of (Y/n) and he knew what having a baby meant to her, he really did and the thought of having a baby with her was like a dream, but that was all Ben was allowing it to be. A dream. If Ben went along with this he was taking the chance of giving his child a disorder that lasted a lifetime and came with more pain that it was worth.

Ben went through struggles every day because of his disorder that was almost immobilising, he couldn't put that onto a child when he knew what it was like to grow up with it himself. His parents took a chance and they won and lost because Ben was here, he was fine and he was a good son but they lost because he got the disorder.

"They had me because they thought since Brandon and my dad didn't have it, I wouldn't. I pulled the fucking short straw and I won't force this upon our child, it's not fair."

Ben's grandfather was the first one to have the disorder, but Ben's father didn't have it and his half brother didn't either. So when his father married his mother, they presumed Ben wouldn't get it either but they were wrong. It skipped a generation and landed with Ben and he couldn't hate his grandfather and father more for giving it to him even if they never meant to, but Ben didn't want to pass it on any more.

He had a particular type of muscular dystrophy which meant the muscles wasted away and grew weaker with time. Ben developed the disorder when he was ten and for the last seventeen years he's struggled through life. He lost muscle mass on his hips which were very thin by now, he walked slower and more awkwardly than others and he walked with pain in his hips because his weakened muscles were having to stretch and continuously move when they were weak.

His back was suffering the affects and now his shoulders and upper arms were going in the same direction. Not to mention the irregular heartbeat he was now stuck with which put him at risk.

Ben had taken physiotherapy, he'd done exercises and taken pills and worn braces on his legs and strap braces on his body to try and straighten his posture and help with his mobility but it didn't help. Nothing helped because there was no cure and they couldn't seem to slow it down.

Ben didn't want this for his child.

It didn't matter to Ben who was on the throne next because he would be dead when that happens and it will no longer be his problem to bear. Ben had no cousins to take the throne, his brother didn't share the same mother as Ben which meant he wasn't of the royal bloodline and neither was their father. Right now Ben was the only royalty there was and he was King, when he died they would have to find extended family to fill his place if he didn't produce an heir and that was what he wanted right now.

"I don't know why I'm trying here, you're the King, no one can change your mind about anything. You do what you want, damn everyone else who tried to stop you."

(Y/n) recoiled her arms to her chest as she stared up at her husband, just knowing he was going to challenge what she had said even if part of him knew it was true. Ben was good at what he did, he could make tough decisions, he always did what was best for his people and he didn't take crap from anyone. But he was cold and he was very well know to be ruthless and seem uncaring about most things. Him marrying (Y/n) was the first time the people had known him do be so caring and loving towards someone and he seemed like a different person when he was with her. But deep down, he was still the ruthless man he'd grown up to be and that wasn't his fault.

"I was seventeen when I took the throne, you know I don't take shit from anyone because I can't. Once one person gets in and changes my mind everyone else follows, but you, you're different. I listen to you because you don't want anything from me and you don't use me, baby I love you but this is something you just can't ask of me." (Y/n)'s request was too much for Ben to accept, he couldn't pay that price because if they had a child who ended up with the same disorder as Ben then he would forever hate himself for making his child suffer.

When Ben took the throne he took a lot of stigma and criticism about it, his father and his old adviser tried to get him to abdicate the throne and give his father the regency to rule on his behalf. Ben knew once he let one person persuade him of something, everyone else would follow because the ones who were meant to be on his side were out for personal gain and control. When Ben put people in their place it showed that they couldn't mess with him and that he knew what he was doing.

(Y/n) was different but right now Ben couldn't give her what she was asking for. When (Y/n) turned her head turned away from him he quickly reached out to cup her face and press his forehead against her own. There was so much pain hiding behind his eyes and it made (Y/n) well up with tears. He didn't want to hurt her.

"Baby please, you know in another life where I didn't have this I would want a baby with you. I'd want a dozen kids with you, but not like this. I can't take the risk because it's too much pain to give them." Ben suffered too much pain from his disorder and he didn't want to push that same pain onto someone else. His disorder was genetic and since it went back to his grandfather and since Ben actually had the disorder unlike his father who was just a carrier, it meant the chances were higher for Ben's future children.

There was half a chance that they would get the disorder, it was like tossing a coin. Heads says they're fine, tails says they get the genetic disorder. Ben wasn't ready to flip that coin and see what fate had install for them.

Reaching her hand up to hold onto Ben's wrist, (Y/n) smiled sadly at him before she leaned up on her toes to kiss him. She knew when she married Ben four months ago that there was a chance he wouldn't want children but she thought she could change his mind or that he would change his mind on his own. She would never leave him no matter what happened but not having children was something (Y/n) would find very hard to bear.

"Sometimes the risk is worth it, Ben."

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #royalty #the kings heir

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chu-ni · 5 years

Text

miscommunication – ljn.

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: fluff, angst, royalty!au

word count: 19.6k (uff the most ive EVER written...)

warnings: jeno is a lil bit of a dickhead, sorry if the ending is a lil rushed bc i just wanted this fic GONE, hope its not as tedious for you to read as it was for me to write! this whole fic was inspired by this post! happy reading!

In a bid to preserve the future safety of their neighbouring kingdoms from the growing dangers of the northern empire, your parents, rulers of the southern isles, had you betrothed to the immediate heir of the southern mainland, Lee Jeno. You were 8 years old, and quite frankly didn't even know how to spell betrothal, let alone define it. True to tradition, Jeno, with his glasses, bowl cut, and stuffed cat toy came to stay with you for the next four years before he'd have to return to take up responsibilities as future ruler.

Upon first meeting, you thought Jeno was probably the nicest person you'd ever met, if a little boring. He was quiet, soft-spoken, giggly, and a little shy; you'd realised after he'd barely said more than 2 words to you that it would take you a while to bring him out of his shell. You dragged him on various mini adventures as kids (stealing cookies from the palace kitchens, watching the knights train from a bush just beyond the sparring grounds, playing in throne room and impersonating your parents when nobody else was there), and although at first he was reluctant, he became almost as bubbly and loud as you were -- while you preferred to live in the moment, saying and doing whatever you wanted, you were kids after all, he tended to think before he did things, always thinking about what could happen later on. In that sense, despite your differences, he became your moral compass of sorts, stopping you from being too reckless and bailing you out whenever you got into too much trouble. Did Jeno think he'd probably go bald before he turned 20 because of all the stress you put on him, whether that be you ditching tutoring to go climb trees and him reluctantly tagging along, or him having to practically drag you away from the stables before your parents found out and scolded you for the fourth time that week, or even that one time the two of you got locked in the kitchens at 3am with flour everywhere and the two of you had to clean it up and find somewhere to hide until the morning? Yes, and despite his constant state of anxiety and his frequent joking expression of his wish to go home already so he could finally get some peace and quiet, he still cared about you. Would probably jump in front of a carriage for you. Still considered you his best friend above all. Still appreciated you for bringing him out of his shell and changing him for the better. You and Jeno, as best friends would, spent all your time together. Getting married, the betrothal… it was in the backs of your minds, but at 11 ("Almost 12!!" "Shut up, Jeno,") years old, you liked to pretend you at least had the freedom to explore your romantic options (even if you both always managed to find flaws in every girl and boy. "His hair's too long," "She's too short!" "He looks mean," "She looks too nice,"), that you lived a different life, where royalty and alliances and all that jazz didn't exist for the pair of you. Where you were just two kids, two best friends who could do whatever they wanted and never have to worry about the consequences. As much as you liked to pretend, however, it was just that. Pretend. An imaginary scenario that only went on for a limited amount of time before you inevitably had to return to reality. The two of you returned to reality 3 days before Jeno's 12th birthday, when your parents received a letter dating his return to the mainland. It was less than a week before he left you for, well, ever. You had 5 days to say goodbye to your best friend, your closest confidant, your reluctant partner in crime. And you had no idea what to do. Jeno didn't like talking about leaving, so the two of you avoided the topic and hung out just as you'd always done.You were both in the library, his last day before he left, helping Jeno find a book he wanted when you brought up the topic. "Jeno." You murmur, stopping your search to look at him. At first glance, he seemed fine, but you knew he wasn't really. At least, you hoped he wasn't. Not in a bad way, no, never; but you hoped you'd made a strong enough bond as friends for him to feel something about leaving you for whoever knew how long. He replies with a nonchalant "Hm?", eyes still focused on the rows upon rows of literature in front of him. "Do you-" you clear your throat, trying to build confidence. "Do you think we'll see each other again?" He's silent for a moment, lips pouting and eyes to the ceiling, as if in thought, before stating, with confidence: "I know we will." You're not fully convinced, and it must show because the way Jeno smiles as brightly as possible calms your worrying heart. Jeno leaves the next morning, and you say goodbye with a tight hug that Jeno is 53% sure is the reason he wouldn't stop coughing on the boat home, and a pinky promise to write to each other every day, week, month, and so forth. He makes you promise not to cry. You break it as soon as he boards. You keep breaking it every night he's gone for the next 3 weeks, after which your parents are basically forcing you to make new friends. They've arranged playdates, tea parties, dances, balls; but absolutely nobody was going to replace Jeno, which is exactly what you thought your parents were trying to do and as such you made every effort not to let that happen. Did you deliberately cause trouble? Yes. Did you think Jeno would agree with what you were doing? No, but you were doing it for him and you were sure he'd understand anyway. So the next 2 months are littered with failed playdates, ruined tea parties, messy dances, and disgraceful balls, and even though you felt a little bad when you overheard your parents relentlessly apologising to the other adults, a bigger part of you was happy you wouldn't have to talk to any more stuffy noble children. At least not for the foreseeable future. It was only when your parents gave up trying to make you make friends that you, ironically, made one. You met Haechan while exploring ("Trespassing, more like," "Shut up, Haechan!") the knights' quarters one day. You'd overheard shouting and insults, so you peeked through one of the doors to see a kid who looked around your age, eyes pinned to the floor and fists clenched at his sides as the imposing man who stood in front of him spewed swear words and other things you weren't sure you could repeat anywhere else. At that, you immediately stepped in to defend the boy, using your status to take Haechan back up to your own quarters in the palace, where the two of you properly spoke, or at least tried to before a handmaid had burst into your room, panting slightly, saying you'd both been summoned by your parents to the throne room, at which point your heart had leapt into your throat. The throne room, much like the rest of the palace, was lined with windows to let as much light in as possible. The walls were a pastel yellow, with paintings of previous rulers across the walls, and the floor was covered with rugs various shades of verdant green. The thrones themselves were nothing special; the only thing that denoted their specialty was the engraving of your family crest at the top of them. Seated upon them were, of course, your parents. Your mother was tall, lithe, and with an imposing gaze she often intimidated those she came into contact with. Behind all that, however, she was the goofy mother who'd sung made up lullabies to you as a child, who'd laughed when you stamped everything in your parents study with the royal seal, who'd nearly jumped out of her skin when you used flour to 'teleport' in front of her at the age of 6; she just hid it very well. Your mother had always taught you the importance of controlling your emotions, given you irreplaceable advice on the topic, advice you rarely ever put to use, but took in anyway. Your father, by contrast, was short -- well, not that short, but most people looked short when put next to your mother -- on the heavier side, with a trimmed beard and an open smile. Contrary to your mother, he was often the stricter, more disciplined one of the two. He nagged you often, something you didn't think you'd ever not find annoying, but he had your best interests at heart. The two of them, with their almost opposing personalities, made a good match for each other, and you saw the love they had for one another every day; with the way they looked into one another's eyes, the way your father, even with his short stature, would step in front of your mother at the first sign of her feeling threatened, the way they worked together to solve every problem that ever appeared like magic, and you wished someone would look at you like that one day. You and Haechan, gazes fixed to the floor and hearts beating so fast you were sure anyone in a 50 mile radius could hear them, both trembled slightly as your father, who you'd hoped wouldn't be the one scolding you today, let his voice, low and commanding, travel across the room. "Y/N," His tone is expectant, quiet in volume, and you know what that means. You look up at him, and although he appears straight faced, the slight scowl and squint of his eyes betrays his annoyance. You could tell this was going to be another long-winded lecture. "Do you know why you've been summoned here?" He continues, re-adjusting himself to be more comfortable. You mumbled a reply, hating the fact that Haechan would be witnessing what was basically a daily occurrence. He says your name again in warning, and you speak up this time. "….My insolence," At that, he descends into a tirade that you stopped taking seriously once he mispronounced one of his words, at which you and Haechan made amused eye contact and hadn't stopped doing since. You tuned in and out of his rant catching bits of the same old same old story about "Fixing your manners!" And staying out of "Knightly affairs," until your father couldn't be bothered to speak any more and simply brought in the knight you'd scolded yourself earlier. At much pressure from your father and mother, you apologised, not without gritting your teeth and sending an icy glare your father's way. Seeing as your father had summoned both you and Haechan to the throne, you'd naturally assumed he'd also be scolded, but you had to fight your jaw dropped when your father simply apologised to Haechan for the whole affair and sent him on his way. He was midway through opening the door to exit when you interrupted, "But father--" he'd raised a hand to cut you off, already being done with the conversation. "Who is the princess here, Y/N?" You snarled a "Me," under your breath, a part of you knowing you'd lost the argument before it'd even started. "So that makes it your responsibility to control yourself around others." He turned to go, before whirling back around, a finger pointed directly at you. "Especially the knights, damn it!" At that, he left, your mother following behind him, leaving you alone in the throne room. You waited till they were out of sight before releasing a frustrated groan, trudging back to your room, desperate for some alone time to sulk in your own emotions. You groan again when you find Haechan reading through one of your books on economic development (not like you'd ever read it anyways), not even bothering to acknowledge you until you stamp over to him and snatch the damn thing out of his hands, "Don't touch my stuff." You hiss. He pouts, disappointed, before rolling his eyes. "Thanks," he sighs, blasé. "For earlier." You open your mouth to reply, but judging by how he gingerly sits at the edge of your bed, you wait for him to continue. "If you hadn't come in then I probably would've said something I'd regret, and then my parents would be super mad, and then I'd probably have to start something stupid, like alchemy or something. God, I hate alchemy--" As bad of a mood as you were in, you couldn't help but to laugh. His deadpan yet relatable way of expressing himself reminded you of yourself a little, and you smiled softly to yourself. The sound of him whispering an accomplished "Yes!" under his breath causes you to look up at him in question. "That's what I wanted." His gaze softens as his eyes fall on yours, "You looked a lot worse before. I didn't think it was fair, given what you did for me. So that was my way of saying thanks." The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you also noticing that Haechan's gotten more comfortable on your bed, as you both stare at the ceiling. You break the silence a little while later. "You're welcome." You'd originally planned to end the conversation there and go back to staring at the increasingly mundane ceiling of your room so you could seem cool and aloof, but you had a feeling Haechan wasn't the kind of person to care about things like that. "And….thank you, also." The tables turn. This time, it's Haechan who's looking at you, brows furrowed, lips curled, in question. "I'm not very good at knowing when to shut up, which you've probably noticed," he visibly scoffs at that, and you playfully glare at him in return. "I'm not very good at acting like a princess, either, so I find it hard to relate to other people in my, um, circle?" You question, mainly asking yourself, but he interjects anyway. "Don't you have any friends?" You swallow, gritting your teeth. "I was getting to that," Embarrassed, Haechan slowly turns to face the window to his left. You sigh before continuing, "Anyway, I had a friend, but he moved away. And I hate the other noble kids; they're all the same, with their ugly clothes and weird hairstyles and the fact that they're only nice to me when their parents are around--which is barely, by the way-- and how stupid they all are--" Haechan has turned back to look at you at some point during your rant, and there's a mysterious glint in his eyes as he smirks at you. "You're funny. Like me," he studies you for a second, his smirk growing into a grin. "We should talk more sometime," He sighs, then stretches as he stands from his position on your bed. He says nothing as he opens the door, turns to wave at you, and then disappears, closing the door behind him. To say you were a little confused was an understatement. Not only had you inadvertently revealed more about yourself than you'd learned from him in an attempt to get him to open up, your kind-of acquaintance had also simply up and left in the middle of your conversation. Haechan kept to his word of talking more to you, though, as he'd come to find you whenever his assigned knight (who'd been switched to someone nicer after the incident) gave him a break. Over time you'd managed to find out more about him; that he was born and raised a noble, but had always wanted to be a knight, so had begun his squire training this year in the palace -- it was why you'd never seen him before then, that he was actually a lot like you but a little more ("A lot," "Shut up, Y/N!") sharper-tongued. He liked to express himself through jokes and humour, which was a plus as all the time you spent shedding tears of laughter helped take your mind off of Jeno's departure. Like you, Haechan liked to talk about anything and everything-- sometimes this led to irritation between the two of you because you both always had something important to say and you were both the only people who'd listen -- but you liked hearing what he'd talk about as you knew you'd learn something new from him every time. You meet your second new friend at your 13th birthday ball, something you vehemently opposed the second you heard the idea…except you didn't hear the idea, you were just told it was happening 2 hours before it was supposed to start. To make matters worse, you didn't even have the energy or the time to try and sabotage it given the fact that your parents had someone watching over you at all times, be it a handmaid, a guard, a servant; practically anyone your parents could get their hands on. The ball itself wasn't even that bad, even though you'd never say that out loud. The ballroom was decorated to look like the sun your people worshipped so much; fabrics of yellow and gold were draped across the room in every hue; tables were filled to the brim with fruits, confectionery, and other foods you couldn't pronounce the name of. Musicians were seated in the corner of the room, playing pieces you recognised from your lessons but never really remembered all that well. Did you appreciate the effort? Yes. Did you care for it all, though? Absolutely not. To make matters worse, there was no sign of your current confidant, Haechan, anywhere -- the whole place seemed to have been populated with the same noble children you hated and their equally as annoying parents. Leaving clearly wasn't an option, given the servant currently offering drinks was doing a really bad job at subtly watching you from their position within the group of noble parents. Sighing, you left the buffet table and all of its tasty comforts to explore the floor, taking great care to avoid the group of obnoxious 13 year olds in the centre of the room.

You'd be lying if you said you discovered some amazing secret that would change your life forever in between the designated tables and their vases filled with flowers, the overwhelmingly sweet smell of which was beginning to give you more than a headache. Almost the entirety of the ballroom was the same no matter where you went-- the same old stuffy adults in one corner, the same stuffy disrespectful kids your age in another, the member of staff assigned to you changing every quarter of an hour the only constant, ironically. If anything, you'd say the only thing you'd discovered during the increasingly painful amount of time you'd been here was the fact that you hated birthday balls, and you would be all too happy if someone told you you never had to have one again. Uncaring for whoever it was that was watching you this time, you storm towards the exit, a scowl marring your features. Someone's arm slinging itself over your shoulder and a slightly terrified whisper of "Keep walking, please," spurs you on for the moment, but when you successfully get out of the ballroom (to your own surprise), you fling the arm off your shoulder, stop walking and whirl to face your temporary escapee. Judging by the boyish timbre of his voice earlier, you'd expected someone a little different than whatever the kid currently sheepishly grinning at you was. He was dressed in robes that looked like they'd come from somewhere far away; his face was both adorable and yet belied almost the same air of mischief you'd noticed around Haechan upon your first meeting with him, but there was something different about this one. Unconsciously, your eyes narrowed as you studied him some more, failing to notice the fact that his previous grin had dropped, been replaced by a concerned gaze. You also failed to notice that his mouth had been moving for quite some time now; it's his hand, again on your shoulder, that breaks you out of your trance. "Hello? Are you okay?" He shakes you slightly and you nod before he can cause too much of a fuss. This time, you didn't really care to know who the unnamed boy was or why he'd even snuck out with you in the first place, thoughts of finding Haechan and ranting to him the at the forefront of your mind, but the boy decided to tell you anyway. You'd begun walking, hoping he'd get the hint that you had somewhere to be, but he simply fell into step beside you, continuing his life story. When you bothered to tune in, your mind still set on finding Haechan, and giving little hums here and there to at least give off the vibe you were listening to your unwanted guest, you'd found out a multitude of things. One, that he'd come from the Eastern continent, somewhere you'd only read about in the few books you liked reading, and that he was rich enough to practically be royalty. Two, that the succession crisis over there and the accession of the new ruler caused his family to move to the southern isles to avoid persecution. Three, that his parents own a "nice restaurant in town. You should visit sometime!" Oh, and four. The kid just wouldn't shut up. But you could've guessed that from the moment he started talking anyway. You also found out he was younger than you "Wait," you're cut off by Haechan, eyes widened in recognition. "You're Zhong Chenle? That kid with the huge house?" You look over to Chenle, analysing his reaction "It's not that huge, I mean--" Haechan cuts him off again, and you tune out of the conversation as soon as they start talking about Chenle's apparent neighborhood popularity. You never do find out why Chenle wanted to leave that party so badly, and the thought of asking always slips your mind. What you do know, is that you see Chenle around a lot more often, but that's only cause after trying some of his mom's restaurant's food you haven't been able to stop making orders to the palace for it. There had to be something in that braised beef of hers that made it so addictive, and Chenle delivering it was a plus, cause it meant the three of you could talk and do whatever for as long as you wanted. So you had friends, at long last. The three of you grow up and mature together, Chenle, offering knowledge far beyond his years despite him being the youngest of the three of you, Haechan, getting a lot better at holding his tongue and being less mischievous, and you, though still a little rebellious at times, have managed to ultimately, tone it down. You still stress out your tutor, Taeyong though-- every time you trick him into letting you go early from your lessons and he finds you in the midst of climbing some tree with Chenle, or beginning to mount a horse with Haechan when you really should be studying he swears he loses more and more years off his life. You're less outspoken, more articulate when you speak; You choose your battles more carefully now, instead of blowing up whenever you disagree with someone -- by around a year or so, and called Chenle. During the course of your one sided conversation, punctuated by monotonous hums of agreement from you here and there, you found yourself in front of Haechan's quarters at long last. Unsurprisingly, Chenle followed after you, even as you opened the door to find him half dressed. "Oh my-- Do you know how much I hate it when you do that!?" Startled, Haechan drops to a crouch, trying to salvage some modesty. "You're acting like I haven't seen it before," you sigh, dragging your tired feet over to his bed, flinging yourself down onto it and closing your eyes. Pulling his tunic over his shorts, dragging a palm down his face, he snaps, "That's when it's just you, idiot," he nods at Chenle to come further in (the poor boy had been awkwardly standing in the doorway throughout your exchange,) "At least let me know if you're going to bring guests." He whines, sitting directly on your stomach, using as much force as possible. "Haechan you-- Ow!" You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. Struggling against the fabrics of your dress, you finally manage to shove him off, kicking him in the process, and not missing the red tinge to Chenle's face and his extremely poor attempt at hiding his laughter. You look to Haechan, glaring, and see him smirking back at you; you make a note to beat him up properly for it later. You take a deep breath, willing your annoyance away, and introduce the two. "Haechan, this is Chenle, Chenle, this is--" that doesn't mean you don't still rip people to shreds if they have a wrong opinion, though (Your parents are still apologising to the western continent's representative after you cursed him out over his 'inflammatory comments', ( "He said women were inferior beings and that it was amazing I could read, given my smaller brain, mother!" "I don't care what he said, Y/N. he is a guest of ours and you will respect his beliefs!" "….") Jeno, while back home, matured as well. He chilled out (he's still a little weird, but only around his friends) in the sense that he's kind to everyone, respectful to everyone, the epitome of the perfect prince; because he has to be. His parents were stricter than yours were, exponentially so due to the growing threat of the northern continent. And although he finds the continuous prim and proper prince act a little tiring at times, and wishes he could be himself (A goofy, weird, sometimes airheaded, huge cat-lover) all the time, he knows his parents would never allow it ( "That's not how a prince should behave, Jeno."). As a result, he's secretly irritated a lot of the time, anger bubbling beneath the surface. No-one would ever know, though; he's just that good at hiding it (Until, of course, he meets you again 6 years later and snaps at you by accident). As the years went past, you'd never really forgotten Jeno; in fact, you still thought of him from time to time-- but it was a lot less than when he first left. You'd first exchanged letters every week, but as time passed and the two of you became busier and busier, him with his preparations to be king and you with your own preparations to take over, the letters went from weekly, to monthly, to barely any at all. Sometimes he'd cross your mind and you'd wonder how he was doing, what he looked like, whether he'd grown even taller, if he was still the same old giggly boy you'd dragged around the palace 6 years ago -- but then Chenle or Haechan would be doing something that you just had to see -- and the thought would be gone. You didn't think Jeno would be returning to your corner of the southern isles any time soon, anyway. Life on the southern mainland, for Jeno, at least was hopelessly, mind-numbingly, boring. Those 4 years he'd spent in the southern isles had gone too fast for him, for now he was stuck back with his controlling parents that never let him just be, and it only got a little better the older he got. Jeno had returned home, to his bland room with its white walls and paintings of old men the only decoration his parents would allow. He'd been practically thrown in the deep end when it came to his royal duties; he was supposed to greet this lady, bow to this lord, smile at this diplomat, pretend, pretend, pretend -- because emotions were never becoming of a prince, of a 'future king'. He'd come to hate those 2 words in coming years. -- Seoyoung was the closest thing to a replacement version of you that Jeno could get. It had been a year since he'd forced himself back into the perfect box his parents had always pressured him to fit into, a year since his unwanted goodbye to freedom and the Southern Isles. The letters exchanged with you had slowly but surely died out, and being left with your own company in a palace as big as the one he lived in was like his own personal hell. Being forced to be a certain way all the time, never being allowed to truly express emotion, along with a clear lack of understanding from his already closed off parents had led to him slipping away from the high walls of the palace and out into the bustle of the local towns beyond. It was there, after running away from some moody teenagers he'd unwittingly bumped into, hiding in the nearest open door available to him, that he'd met her. "Hey!" Jeno whips round, chest still heaving, back pressed into the wooden ridges of the door he'd just shut. "Who the hell are you," she growls, advancing towards him with a pan that looked more and more threatening by the second, "And what are you doing in my house?" Soon enough, he can feel the cool edge of the pan pressed into his neck, and, grimacing, he pleads, "Please, please don't kill me," and he hates how he very loudly whimpers as the girl presses the pan deeper. Her laugh, a tiny giggle that sounds like addictive music to his ears, changes the mood. “Relax,” she snickers, a sly tear coming out of her eye, “I’m not gonna kill you! What kind of person do you think I am?” She’s thrown her head back now, laughing louder, and Jeno can’t find it in himself to get angry. “I wouldn’t know?” he probes, "We just met, so.." Jeno peels himself off the door, standing awkwardly as the girl drags a chair, flinging herself onto it. Rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down, she asks, "Seriously. Why are you in my house." "Oh, I just, like, bumped into the wrong group of people.... I guess I got on their bad side, cause they chased me through town. This was the nearest open door to hide." She starts laughing again, and Jeno's confused once more. His explanation wasn't *that* funny, was it? And the longer she laughed, the more he was beginning to suspect Seoyo was laughing *at* him, not at what he said. He didn't know how that made him feel, but it wasn't good. "I can't believe," she wheezes, "You got chased...by Minho's gang!" she sputters. "Are you new here or something? Everyone knows Minho and his crew are a bunch of boneheads, they were probably just playing with you," Upon reflection, perhaps the smiles those 'moody teenagers' were sporting as they followed him were less menacing and more...welcoming. But he wasn't going to take his chances either way. "So what if I am new here?" He retorts, "They didn't look very friendly when they starting running after me down the street!" She looks at him for a long moment, before mocking his words and laughing again. "Hey!" he snaps, but his voice breaks as he says it and it sounds more like a childish whine.

Pushing herself off the chair, she begins rummaging through cupboards and drawers, pulling out various ingredients as she goes. "You must be hungry," she snickers, but she can tell that any more of her incessant mockery would genuinely offend him, so keeps it to a minimum. "Sit down, and I'll make you something to eat." Tentatively, Jeno sits at the table, round, chipped at the edges, and worn from years of use. An aroma soon fills the air, drifting to his nose. Whatever it was, it smelled better than any of the stuff from the palace kitchens- and when she placed the bowl of soup and vegetables in front of him, it tasted much better, too. "So, where are you from?" He chokes on a carrot. "You said you moved here recently, right? Where from?" Now, it was at this point where Jeno hated the fact that he was never that great at lying, because he now needed to come up with a believable backstory and actually stick to it without giving himself away as the freaking crown prince, for goodness sake. "An island." He states, and hopes she'll be satisfied with that.

"Near the, uh," he downs a spoonful of soup to buy thinking time, "the Southern Isles?" Sounding confused was definitely not going to look believable, but he still prayed to all the gods in the universe, even the ones he didn't believe in, to help him out here. Just this once. "Okay," she sounds suspicious, he notices, but he's thankful enough she doesn't press further and leaves the thought at that. "I'm Seoyoung," and Jeno inwardly screams as he knows what question is coming next, "What's your name?" What was his name? Meaning, what was his fake name going to be? Like an idiot, he almost gives himself away, "I'm Jen-- Jen. Yeah, Jen." He can practically feel the disbelief in her expression, and quickly goes back to the soup to avoid her gaze. "What about your surname?" 'Are you serious?' Is what he wants to say, but plays along for the sake of hiding his identity. "Uh," he notices the material of the table, and blurts out a "Wood. Jen Wood."

"So your name is Jen...Wood." "Yes." She sighs, gets up to wash her own bowl, and shakes her head. "I didn't think you'd lie for that long." Yeah, he's busted. "I know you're the prince, by the way. Nobody eats soup with a spoon around here unless they're a noble, and you gave yourself away when you basically said your name, Prince Jeno."

His shoulders sag, half in relief, and half in an apathetic resignation to the fact that now that she knew who he was, so would everyone else. And then word would reach his parents that he'd snuck out of the palace and he'd have to say goodbye to any sliver of a chance at freedom until he either ascended the throne or died before then. "Do you think, you could, like, maybe, not tell anyone?" Being unsure of yourself and not even putting up a fight was not how his mother had taught him to negotiate, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Please?" He begs. "I won't say a word. In fact, you were never here," Oh, yes! Freedom was still a possibility- "On one condition." Never mind. "You keep coming here. To see me." Honestly speaking, there was no true reason why Jeno would have to go see Seoyoung on a regular basis, aside from avoiding the wrath of his parents, but even so, hanging out with her more often seemed like an attractive concept on its own. So he agreed. "It's a deal," and it was. From that point on, Seoyoung became his, well, your, replacement. He finally had a friend he could pour out his emotions to, one that wasn't handpicked by his parents to make worthwhile connections with, who he could be the same Jeno from the Southern Isles with, not the uptight prince from the Mainland. The addition of Jaemin, the son of rich merchants who sometimes made Jeno question why he was a prince when Jaemin seemed so much better suited, and Renjun, a noble who understood Jeno's struggles even if he was a little too blunt for his liking, altogether made Jeno, for the first time in a long time, feel at home in his own home. And so life continued like that; going out with Jaemin and Renjun to meet with Seoyoung. Games of tag and hide and seek in the woods soon turned into intense chess battles, mock swordfights, in depth discussions about literature, learning more about the subjects Jeno would soon rule over - there wasn't a single way life could get any better. It's the end of a day spent just with Seoyoung for Jeno. They're sat in their usual spot, across from each other on the same wooden table they had their first meeting on. A candle, mid-burnt, sits in the middle, its wavering light hitting all the right points on her face. Her eyes, a warm brown, are illuminated, her hair, a deep burgundy, looking so silken Jeno's afraid to even breathe in its direction so as not to disturb it, and the curve of her lips, forever locked in a halfway point between the smirk he's grown to love so much and a simple pout, look more appealing now than they ever have done. Locking eyes with her, he moves the candle to one side and leans in, asking for consent. There's a nod of her head and a coy wink and suddenly his lips are on hers and it feels so, so amazing- and then she pushes him away.

"You're a prince, Jeno. We can't do this," she whispers. "What if someone sees you?" He looks at her for a long moment, throwing all thoughts of you out of his mind. Who knew when he'd see you again anyways? "I don't care," he grins, "I'm here with you now, and that's all that matters." He leaves Seoyoung's house that night with swollen lips and a heart so light it could float off into the distance and Jeno wouldn't even notice. He arrives home, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide, parading around his chambers like a lovesick fool, when he sees it. Sealed with the usual blue wax stamp of his parents, resting on his desk, lies an envelope. Tentatively, he opens it, skim reading the contents until he finds the sentence that shocks him so much he has to read it twice: 'You shall be returning to the Southern Isles within the next 3 days. Prepare accordingly.' After removing all thoughts of you from his mind, the memories he has with you return like opened floodgates. The heaviest thing on his mind is how to tell you about Seoyoung- the right thing, the noble thing to do would be to break up with her - but that would break her heart, and telling you about her would break yours. He could always not say anything and spare both of you the pain...Yes. Yes, he could do that. He was going to do that. -- When you got the news that Jeno would be returning to your kingdom, you were, not to sound like a cheesy young adult novel or anything, beside yourself with excitement. You'd rushed to your chambers upon hearing the news, penning letter after letter while also throwing letter after letter away, just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace, though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least.

Gone was the Jeno whose height you'd always make fun of - now he was taller, had grown into his features - which had gone from rounded cheeks and a soft profile to harsher lines, a defined jawline and an aura that gave off the feeling that he was now more royal than anything else. He was lean yet built, his previous bowl cut, now changed into straight black locks, strands of which fell across his forehead in the best way you could imagine. You were sure that if you looked up the definition of 'prince' in a dictionary, a picture of Lee Jeno would be right beneath it. The fact that you were betrothed to him had never been an important aspect of your thoughts, never something you even deigned to think about, but when he looked like that, you were beginning to enjoy the prospect of seeing him every day in your near future. You walk up to him and curtsey, trying your best to fight the grin arising on your face. "Your Highness," you breathe, eyes sparkling. "Princess," he nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a half smile, while you try your hardest to ignore the sudden increase in your heart rate. His eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were so intoxicating could stare into them forever, and for what felt like it, you did. You took a step forward, but a quick eyebrow raise from Jeno and a nudge to your side by your mother soon reminds you of your apparent duties as a host, guiding your betrothed to his rooms being one of them. On the way there, you ask him as many questions as you can; how he's been, what he's been up to, what friends he made - but his answers are all short sentences and one worded, a haughty mix of 'yeses', 'no's' and 'I don't know's'. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, you wondered when he'd become so closed off. His expression looks downcast and yet apathetic; like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. You ask him if he received your last letter, and he barely replies with anything more than a noncommittal "Mm." The walk continues, silent and uncomfortable, and when you do finally arrive at his chambers he storms in without a thanks or a goodbye. You're left confused, unsettled, and more than a little hurt. After all, this was supposed to be 2 best friends reuniting at last, not two strangers meeting for the first time. Dinner goes worse. Multiple times you try to make conversation and multiple times he letter away, just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace, though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least. completely ignores you. You look at your parents, who are engaged in their own conversation, and you roll your eyes - at how oblivious they are not to notice their own 'son-in-law's actions, and how frustrated you are at said son-in-law as well. You go to sleep that night even more confused, and you wake up disgruntled and unimpressed. At breakfast, you attempt to make eye contact with him sat directly across from you only for him to, again, blatantly ignore you. Clearly irritated, you stab at your food, making your emotions (however childish) known. "Y/N, do you have something to say?" Your intense eating caught the attention of your parents, while the one person's attention you wanted was still engrossed in his meal. Great. "No, Father. Just hungry." You try your best to control your tone, not in the mood for another lecture about your attitude at dinner. While they had become less frequent over the years as you matured, times like these, where your temper got the best of you, still arose. "It doesn't look as though you are just hungry. What have I told you about your attitude when eating, Y/N?" ...This couldn't be serious. Much to your distaste, your mother decides to join the conversation, "You should really try to be a little more considerate, Y/N. It's not polite to be so... aggressive around your betrothed." Knowing your mother to be the more relaxed one of your parents, it's hard to say you don't feel a little betrayed at her taking your father's side. Luckily, your father changes the subject and you hold back sighing in relief. "Speaking of aggression, have you heard about the Northern Empire's movements lately?" "Ah- yes, I did hear from one of my advisers - their leader is claiming one of the western border towns as their own - troops are already stationed there, apparently," You look between your parents as your mother shakes her head, running her fingers through her perfectly styled hair, the crease in your father's brow deepening as he frowns in worry. "It seems the the threat of the Northern Empire is manifesting sooner than we thought, dear." The Empire's occupation of the Western border towns meant it would only be a matter of time before they invaded the Southern Mainland, and soon enough the Isles - bad news for you, and even worse for Jeno. "The question is now, what to do before we find them at our doorstep - Y/N, what are your thoughts?" You clear your throat before speaking. "Wouldn't the obvious thing be to send diplomats to work out a deal, but prepare troops at home for when they do arrive?" It made sense in your mind; you had the best of both worlds - peaceful talks with protection if worst came to worst. Your father shakes his head, pursing his lips. "That would take money, resources, and most importantly, time." Looking towards you, he adds, "Time we don't have!" For emphasis. Your lips curl, annoyed at his blatant shutdown of what you thought was a great plan, but school your features into neutrality when he glares at you briefly. "What do you think, Jeno? This is a matter that concerns you the most, after all." Your ears prick up at the mention of his name, mildly intrigued to hear his take - if he even bothered to reply. "I actually agree with Y/N," he says. You hear your mother squeal in joy and fight to keep the cringe off your face. "Darling, how cute," she whispers, "Husband and wife agreeing with each other!" Your father coos along with her, while you look on, unimpressed. You look across to see Jeno blush, and are pleasantly surprised to see that even after 6 years, he still blushes just the same as he used to -- eyes cast down, lips turned up in a shy smile, hand reaching to run through his hair before it stops mid air and falls down again, anxious not to ruin it. Breakfast finishes with no further interruption- that is, until your parents stop the two of you as you're leaving to recommend (read: force) you both to take a walk through the gardens to see how things have changed. -- He's ignoring you. Again. Why you thought there'd be a sudden change in the pattern of Jeno blatantly blindsiding you every time you were alone was beyond you, but the feeling doesn't get any less uncomfortable every time he does it. Having had enough, you pull to one side, the force almost throwing the two of you off balance and into some bushes, but you ask - no, demand - just what exactly his problem is, and his reply isn't what you expect. "I don't have a problem, Y/N." Oh, please. "Someone who doesn't have a problem wouldn't pretend their childhood friend doesn't exist after not seeing them for 6 years, Jano," You hiss, "So I'll ask again. What is your problem with me? What have I done?" You hate the pleading lilt that infects the tone of your voice in the second question, and you hate that you can't help it when he still looks so stoic. His expression breaks though, shoulders sagging for what you notice is the first time since his arrival, a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "You didn’t do anything, Y/N,". "I- I guess I'm just used to acting a certain way back home-- it's hard to adjust," "You were never like this before," "That was then. This is now."

You felt a sense of regret at not sending more letters after Jeno left - as his best friend, you should've done more to let him confide in you. Then, at least, you wouldn't have this uneasy feeling in your chest that you needed to get to know him all over again. "Sorry, though." He continues, "For acting so cold towards you - I guess I was taking out my frustration at always having to be a certain way out on you - you didn't deserve that." "I know we haven't really spoken for a long while, but I'm still your best friend. You can tell me anything." There's a look shared between you both, and you get the feeling that Jeno understands. "You're in my kingdom, now, not yours. Things are different here, remember?" You tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. The two of you chuckle at that and continue walking, simultaneously falling into step and into the easy, free flowing conversation you'd wanted to have since he'd arrived, It's dotted with reminiscing and head thrown back laughs at old inside jokes - and it's finally like nothing had changed. You listen in rapt wonder as he goes into depth about the adventures him and 2 other boys named Jaemin and Renjun go on, you smile in adoration as he describes his 3 favourite cats he's forced to keep in the servants quarters due to his allergies and the wrath of his parents if they discovered 'vermin' in the palace, as they described it, and you heave a sigh of nostalgia as he complains about not being able to have intense flour battles in the palace kitchens in the early hours of the morning, like the 2 of you used to, when he was here. He listens in content as you tell him about the situations that led you to meet Chenle and Haechan, as you giggle to yourself while describing them, watches the way your expression lights up as you tell him about all the new hobbies you'd picked up, the new places you'd discovered and had quickly marked as yours, and jumps as you grab his wrist and drag him along, through winding paths and bushes of flowers sculpted into arches, into an open spot, surrounded by flora. The vibrance of them almost blinds him, their beauty enough to render anyone speechless. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" You smile at him, pleased at the astonished look in his eyes. "I come here when I want to relax," you continue, understanding his silence. "It's amazing," he breathes, before looking at you with a smile so bright it throws you a little. When you grab his wrist a second time to lead him to other places, the slip of his hand into yours doesn't go unnoticed. -- Jeno was only meant to be staying for a few months this time before it was your turn to visit his lands for the impending wedding. The past 2 months of his stay, although awkward at first, had been just like old times, with the exception of various instances that were more reminiscent of a couple and less of 2 best friends.

It was one instance in particular, though, that signified a shift in the air between the two of you. It was humid in the city - the air hot and sticky and the typical royal wear the two of you wore, although thin, seemed to exacerbate the uncomfortable feeling that dominated you both. You'd been sent on an outing through the town to greet the people and make a good impression, as your father had put it, for once leaving his study to speak to the both of you. The humidity you felt wasn't just because of the weather, though - for the entirety of your walk, every face you smiled at, every conversation you made, every cat you'd be forced to stop and pet - Jeno's hand had been firmly clasped in yours. The only time you were apart was when Jeno had left to 'get something'. What it was, you didn't know. Walls painted a pure white to reflect as much sunlight as possible, Shelves around the shop filled with touches of domesticity - a picture here, a souvenir there - and the slightly irritating smell of the flowers, displayed around the room in bouquets of varying sizes are what welcomed Jeno as he stepped into the flower shop. The florist, a middle aged lady with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile, waves as Jeno walks in, him nodding in return as the two make small conversation before she turns to work. "Take good care of her," she calls, busying herself with various bits and bobs here and there, shaking Jeno out of his brief gaze around the store. "I swear to," He replies, running his fingers over the petals of the various bouquets. "Are you sure? The people would have your head if you didn't." He turns to face the florist. Her back is towards him, but her tone of voice commands his attention. It's a beat too long before he replies. "Of course I'm sure!" He smiles, as wide as his cheeks sill let him - the florist turns to face him, her expression mimicking his. He hopes her eyes, seemingly searching for something in his gaze, don't notice the guilty pang in his chest. She seems satisfied with whatever she finds there, breaking the stare and taking a weight off Jeno's shoulders as a result. Busying herself compiling flowers together, a bouquet, she speaks again. "Y/N..." she begins forming a bouquet , picking flowers here and there to add to it. "She's like a beacon to us, you know? She's our princess," the florist pauses for a second, looking nostalgic. "When she was born, the country celebrated for 3 days and nights. I still remember it like it was yesterday." He can see her eyes getting glassy, and he hesitates whether he should make an effort to comfort her or leave her alone. He chooses the latter. "And now... now she's all grown up! Betrothed, to be married! So take care of her," she leans forward, near-pleading. The bouquet is done, and she hands it to him. "I- I will. I promise," Jeno declares, his clasp on the bouquet tightening with his words. The guilty pang returns as he leaves, and increases in intensity as you come into view. The promise he made in there sounded as real as ever - because he'd forgotten about Seoyoung for a second. The closer he got to you, however, the better he saw your eyes light up at his presence, your features breaking into a relieved smile, widening further once you noticed the bouquet in his hands, the clearer it became that he was playing you for a damned fool. -- There's a comfortable silence in your carriage home. Feeling tired from walking around so much, you find your head leaning towards, and then resting on, Jeno's shoulder. It was less than comfortable considering the texture of the road caused your head to bump his shoulder a little too hard every now and again, but you didn't mind. He calls your name, breaking the quiet. "Y/N." You grunt a reply, flitting in and out of consciousness. "Y/N," he calls again, a whine to his voice this time. You grunt again, wanting to stay in your reverie just a little longer. "Y/N~" You look up at him, exasperated. "What?" You cry out, before his lips are on yours and then suddenly gone. It was a quick peck, a mere meeting of the lips, for lack of a better phrase. Short, sweet, but oh-so meaningful. He says nothing for the rest of the ride, but the strawberry flush across his cheeks tells you everything you wanted to know anyway. Yes, Jeno kissed you - just to get his mind off Seoyoung. But the heat he felt bloom across his face and the sharp increase in his pulse made him question if his feelings for Seoyoung were as intense as he thought they were if just one kiss with you made him feel this way.

-- You have to hide the obvious shock in your expression when he starts sitting next to you at breakfast the next morning. "Jeno." "Hm?" "What are you- Why are you here. On this side." "Am I not allowed to sit next to you?" "No, it's just- never mind." You have to hide the embarrassment when he asks himself when you'd become so breathtaking loud enough for you to hear. "You're so beautiful," He breathes. He's sitting a table away from you, in the palace library. "What? What did you say?" "Nothing! Nothing," You have to force yourself not to bury your head in the nearest pillow, fabric, hell, cloth - when he starts sneaking kisses from you at every opportunity. "Y/N, my leg hurts." He's draped himself over the chaise longue in your chambers, preferring to spend most of his time there rather than anywhere else. You’re stood over him, hands on your hips. You found his presence a welcome occurrence, happy to get closer with him. "...Okay, let's go to the infirmary together. I'll walk you," "No, no! Not the infirmary." You frown, suspicious. "I think I need a different kind of treatment..." He looks at you expectantly, batting his lashes. "I don't understand." You hear him grumble under his breath, before his hand snakes around your waist and drags you so close your nose s are touching. "Do you understand now?" He whispers, eyes locking yours into place. His lips brush yours, still holding that gaze, and you almost lose the strength to stand as he kisses you properly, smoothly, before pulling away with a cursed wink. You start as a servant bursts through the doors, chest heaving, running towards Jeno and pressing an envelope, sealed with the familiar blue wax stamp of his kingdom, into his hands before running right back out again. The two of you share a look, then focus on the letter as Jeno opens the envelope and you lean over to read it's contents. The Northern Empire has invaded. Return at once. Concise. Clear. Just like the king and queen of the Southern Mainland. At the news, he immediately turns to leave your room, you following, but struggling to keep up. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'm coming with you, obviously," you say, a little breathless. You stumble, bumping into him as he abruptly stops. "No, you're not," he says, looking confused. "Yes, I am," you reply, daring him to challenge you on the matter. "If you think I'm going to let you put your life at risk-" "I won't be putting anything at risk, because we'll be together." You caress his jaw, a thumb rubbing circles onto the skin. "I can't protect you all the time. You're safer here," he presses, frowning in worry. "Stay," he begs. "Please?" You take a deep breath, looking directly at him. "Jeno. I'm going with you." You shake your head at his open mouth, stopping him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say. "We're going," your hands move to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly, "to solve this, together. Because that's what a future king," you say, raising your eyebrows at him for emphasis, " and queen do." You continue, still holding his gaze. "And as my future husband," Neither of you can deny the increase in the pace of your hearts at that phrase, "You should have faith in me to defend myself. Okay?" He releases a breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. "Okay," He whispers. "Okay." He says, louder, as if confirming something within himself. -- The first thing you noticed when you stepped off the boat was how fundamentally different everything was. Where the Isles had streets, although a little less than clean, filled with housing that never looked alike, due to the owners having free reign in how they built it, the Mainland had rows upon rows of identical houses, streets so pristine the suns rays practically reflected off of them. Where the Isles had a mixture of well established shops and stalls that the city's residents would set up and put away each working day, the Mainland had stores on every corner. The whole city was organised, like everything and everyone had a place to be. It was mesmerising, to say the least. The palace, and its inhabitants, gave ample reason as to why the city looked the way it did. Matching the overall aesthetic of the city, the Mainland Palace was tall, angular in shape, with white, grey, and blue dominating the overall colour scheme - not a hair out of place - a stark contrast to the golds and greens of the palace back home. The people, especially Jeno's parents, were exactly as Jeno had described in the short months you'd been together and gotten to know each other even better than you did as kids - uptight, stiff, and closed off, even more so now there were northern empire troops; the same troops your parents had betrothed the two of you together to avoid, now stationed further out in the country. You didn’t know whether to feel offended or not when they simply nodded in return to your greeting of them, but an explanation from Jeno as he guided you to your chambers soon let you know that the nodding were his parents actually being nice, for once. Your heart sank as you wondered if this was the kind of atmosphere Jeno had to deal with when he’d returned here 6 years ago, and how he’d even managed to survive it that long. “I know what you’re thinking,” he states, a smirk in his voice. He’s looking directly ahead, but he sensed the change in your mood the second you went silent. You look at him, studying his profile, the same profile you adored looking at so much; studying the length of his eyelashes, the slight to-and-fro sway of his fringe, the natural pout of his lips, and wonder again how a boy so perfect could’ve been subjected to somewhere like this. A place that looked perfect, but seemed far from it. “Don’t feel bad for me,” he warns, turning the handle to your chambers as he stops outside of it. “I’m fine now. I have you, don’t I?” you look at him a beat longer, studying his face for any sign of restraint, of sadness, and slump in relief as there is none. You nod, half-smiling, "Yes. You do," and walk in.

-- It was amazing, you thought, just how fast the Northern Empire had managed to take a quaint little town on the edge of Jeno's kingdom, once filled with the typical repeated angular structure of housing commonly seen in the Mainland, and turn it into a home of their own - every roof of every house was plastered with the angry and intimidating red and black flags of the Empire, a reminder who had control, who would gain more of it if you and Jeno didn't get them out by today. The first thing you noticed, as the two of you trekked up the hill to the Empire's camp, were the fire-lit torches. The smoke they emitted smelled vulgar, the wind that blew never once affected their flame. You could see the opening of the town they'd invaded the closer you came, managed to get a glimpse of a citizen being roughed up by one of the guards, before a figure clothed in red and black, wearing a mask disguising their face, appears. "Royalty," they murmur, their voice travelling along the wind, barely noticeable yet just loud enough to understand. You feel the visible shiver running down your spine, the strangeness to their voice making you uncomfortable. Jeno's clasp on your hand, pulling you backwards behind him doesn't go unnoticed by the figure. "Cute." They chuckle, before lightly beckoning the two of you to follow, heading further into their camp with an unnatural smoothness to their gait. Jeno tilts his head, sure some notes to that quiet whisper of the stranger's voice were familiar to him, that he'd heard them before - a different time, a different place, perhaps. He's so engrossed in his thoughts he barely notices you dragging him along, trying to keep up with the stranger while simultaneously avoiding the harsh gazes of the Empire's guards stationed everywhere. He bumps into your back, and you stumble as you stop in front of what you assumed to be the captain's tent, the stranger who greeted you at the gates clapping twice outside the flaps before disappearing. Mystery seemed a recurring theme amongst the soldiers of the Northern Empire, all including the Captain, hiding every feature but their gaze with the same red and black mask. Personality wise, the Captain spoke in circles, sometimes cryptic, sometimes misleading - but it was worth it when you and Jeno left the tent with a stamped agreement that would soon get the Northern soldiers out of Jeno's lands. "I'm proud of you, you know." You're the first to break the silence, beaming at him as you get nearer to the carriage. "You did really well in there - like a king," you add, elbowing him for emphasis. He scoffs and smiles, a slight tinge to his cheeks at the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without you, though," he steps aside to let you board the carriage first, climbing in after you, "Queen," he teases, mimicking your movements from earlier. The ride back to the castle was uneventful, and neither of you failed to notice the gradual steady slump in each others shoulders the further away you got from the unsettling loom of the Empire's camp.

News of the agreement was music to everyone's' ears - especially those of the rulers of the Southern Mainland. Both you and Jeno have to force your jaws from dropping at the announcement of a ball to celebrate your combined success, but only one of you has to strategically hide his fingers curling into fists, taut with fear at the secret in danger of being revealed from the roving gaze of his parents. -- The palace did not look so different from its usual appearance when sculptures, fountains, and tables you hadn't seen before decorated areas around the ballroom floor. You'd spent the first few minutes of the ball with Jeno; you'd followed with him as he greeted nobles, nodded in his parents direction, and introduced you to his friends, the ones he'd told you about when you were in the humid heat of the Isles, before quickly disappearing off, summoned to his parents side to 'discuss courtly matters,' he'd said. You had no issue; after all, a peck on the forehead from him was a sufficient goodbye until he found you later. Jeno was right in his description of Na Jaemin; the man was beautiful, truly no other way to describe him - and, for the son of merchants, exuded a royal air far stronger, far more used to, than any other royal you'd met prior. Where Na Jaemin was kind words bordering on a flirt, smiles bright enough to melt the coldest of hearts, Huang Renjun was, despite being born into nobility, as you'd learned, more rough around the edges than anything else. It was a wonder, you'd noted, that the two boys hadn't been switched at birth at some point long ago, given the stark difference in their personalities. A contrast to Jaemin, Renjun was blunt, had jokes that sometimes made you question whether he meant them maliciously or not, but overall carried himself with an adult sort of grace that you'd come to respect in your short conversation with him, before both him and Jaemin had been dragged off to dance with ladies neither of them knew of. Jaemin and Renjun seemed like good people - this you knew - but why did their eyebrows raise, why did a look of surprise - however fleeting - mar their faces as Jeno introduced you to them? It was that thought you pondered on, had your forehead lightly pulsing with pain as your brow became more and more creased the further into thought you went, when you found him. Found Jeno, or his silhouette, at least, dancing with a girl whose features you couldn't quite place. Well, dancing wasn't a crime - you could go and say hello, tell him how you were feeling about the ball, about his friends - in fact you'd even taken around 4 steps towards the two, hope rising in your chest, when you saw it. Jeno's forehead leaning against the girls, the two of them sharing a longing stare you'd never seen directed towards you, as they, in the presence of all on the ballroom floor, like they hadn't a care in the world, kissed. Kissed. There's a heaviness in your body, a visceral pang in your chest; you aren't sure if you can even take another step - but you carried on, pressed on, towards their dreaded spot, determined to confront the liar who had been your betrothed through all these months, weeks, years. The girl is the first to notice your presence, and you try not to get to caught up in the fact that your own husband to be was so wrapped up in someone else that he couldn't even deign to notice you. "Oh, hi!" She waves. "Are you a friend of Jeno's?" She didn't even know who you were. Of course she wouldn't. Why would he tell her he was betrothed to marry a girl from a different kingdom and had been for the past decade. You nodded in reply, swallowing to try and get the lump out of your throat. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed how he'd visible stiffness to his posture, like he'd been caught doing something wrong. The problem was that he had. He had been caught doing something wrong, and that made it worse. Why? Because it confirmed that he knew. The whole time since he'd returned to you, he'd known. You didn't think the pain could get any worse. "Who are you, if I may ask?" You can barely get out more than a choked up whisper. Your eyes heat up as her perfect smile widens. "Oh, I'm Jeno's girlfriend!" Four words. Four excruciatingly painful words. Love was never a familiar concept to you, at least not in the romantic sense, but you felt that you'd begun to learn what it was during your time with Jeno. She introduced herself as Seoyoung. The longer you stood there, forcing yourself to act as though you weren't feeling your heart break into pieces, the more you saw the appeal. An angelic smile, a kind voice with an addictive country twang to it - safe to say it did wonders for your own self confidence. Introducing yourself afterward, you curtsied and left as quickly as you could, trying not to be rude but at the same time not really caring. You brushed past Renjun on the way out, eyes hot with tears, and the pitiful look on his face you saw - albeit a little blurry - confirmed everything once more. Just how stupid could you be? How stupid did he think you could be? To lead you on, to make you fall for him, to feed you false dreams while he was living them with someone else the entire time? How could he? Not caring about where you went, just that you needed to be alone, opened the first door that seemed unlocked. What a coincidence, then, that the first door you opened led into the room of the last person you wanted to see. Forest green bed sheets, stark white walls, everything organized and in its place. Vanilla and nutmeg permeated your nostrils-- of course the room would smell like him, it was his room after all. You walked around, finding paintings of him and his family on the walls, papers, organised into neat piles on his desk, a black leather-bound book on his dresser. You had an inkling of what it was, and against your better judgement, you opened it. You read line after line of somewhat mediocre poetry dedicated to Seoyoung, scattered journal entries about Seoyoung, drawings of Seoyoung. Everything was about Seoyoung. And if it wasn't about her, it was about everyone else but you. His parents, his servants, his tutors, his friends-- it was as though you didn't exist. Had you meant anything to him, at all? You hear footsteps, the door opening and closing, and freeze. A hand rests on your shoulder and you whip round, coming face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

"Y/N." he calls, tentative. You have to clench your hands into fists to avoid slapping him across the face. "Can we- Can we talk?" You've never felt more hurt, more saddened, but most of all, embarrassed - the last thing you'd ever want to look like is a fool and yet here he is, someone you thought you could trust more than anyone else, playing you for one. "Why." You reply, cold. As the two of you stand in uncomfortable silence, you begin to connect the dots. "Because I need to explain. Listen, I-" "Was it a lie?" You cut him off, and Jeno hates how defeated, how quiet you are - like he's made you into a shell of the person you were. "What? Was what a lie?" "The explanation. Was it a lie." It made sense, when you thought about it. He wasn't closed off because of his parents, because of the life he had to lead - he was closed off, blunt, rude, every disrespectful name under the sun; because by not getting close to you, it would make it easier for him to go back to his little girlfriend back home and pretend his little stint with you in the Isles was nothing more than a trip for princely activities, if she ever asked. "No, of course not. I could never lie to you about that, Y/N." You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Oh please." You say, having had enough. "You didn't want me to come here because you were scared I'd see her. You only let me come here because you thought you could somehow keep her a secret, have your fun with her and then come back to me and lie to my face. You didn't leave me to talk to your parents. You left me to go and find her. Because you don't care about me, Jeno. You never did." You push past him at that, heading for the door, ignoring his cries after you. "Y/N, will you just wait! Please," He grabs your wrist, forcing you to a stop. "Jeno." You warn, "I want nothing to do with you." At that, he lets you go, and you storm off, through the hallways into your own room, wincing as you bark at a handmaid to begin packing your things, readying to leave. You were over the Southern Mainland. You just wanted to go home.

A crash and a scream break you out of your sombre mood. Opening the door a sliver, you peek out of your room to see absolute chaos - members of the royal guard shouting and yelling at people to be calm, gentry, nobility, and everyone else running to find an exit in panic, and men you don't recognize in familiar uniforms locked in battle with knights clad in the white and grey of the Southern Mainland. Creaking the door wider, as you watched more and more southern mainland knights fall one by one, you realised why the uniform seemed so familiar; because it belonged to the Empire. They'd disregarded your agreement and come to attack anyway - and there's a sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach as you consider the implications of it.

Opening the door wider, you break into a run, heading back to Jeno's room, despite your mind screaming at you not to. Irrespective of how much you hated him right now though, you needed to know if he was okay - if there was anyway you could both try and fix this mess. You find him before you get there, sword in hand, locked in battle with an Empire knight, and you wish you had a weapon of your own to fight with. There - peeking out amongst the mix of the fallen and injured, you grab a sword from a fallen enemy and slam it's pommel into the head of someone behind Jeno, the thud of their collapse alerting him to your presence. "…You saved me," he says, voice heavy with gratitude. "Don't mention it. Where are your parents?" You demand. "I don't know," he admits, "Haven't seen them since I left the ball." A pregnant silence falls. "…I haven't seen her either, if that's what you were gonna ask." "I wasn't." You grit out, picking up the sword again and swinging at another attacker with it. The knight meets the blow with a shield - he stumbles with the impact, but the blow isn't hard enough as he moves to attack again. This time it's Jeno who saves you, subduing the attacker permanently. He looks at you expectantly, but you brush him off, dropping the sword, and break into a light run, signalling him to come along. "We should keep moving. Find your parents and figure out what to do," He nods. You don't say anything else. He doesn't either. Both your minds are too preoccupied with the growing destruction around you - the yells and battle cries, the groans of pain, the screams of civilians -- it almost gets too much, but you shove those feelings away. You can't afford to be weak right now - you have people to protect damnit and you'd sooner die than let anything get in your way. The two of you check a multitude of places in the palace as you look for Jeno's parents - the ballroom, the study, the library- all empty. Its when you check the throne room, however, that you find what you seek. Surrounded by countless soldiers all bearing the northern empire emblem, there Jeno's parents knelt, unable to move. Luckily, you hadn't been discovered just yet, but you could tell from the corner of your eye that Jeno was going to ruin it. Digging your nails into his wrist, you shoot him a look - his eyes burn with protest at first, but he submits as you strain your ears to listen in. The voice you do hear, spitting venom, sends a visible chill down Jeno's spine. The previous bubbly lilt had gone, replaced with a hard, rough growl. Uncomfortable, in disgust, you watched as she kicked, pushed, and laughed at jeno's parents, and you felt Jeno himself shake in anger, ears getting red as he tried to hold it in. Angrier and angrier you felt him become; until he just... stopped shaking. Like a heavy calm overtook him, like he was on the border of extreme anger and extreme apathy. There was no question that you were a hair's breadth away from saying you despised Jeno right about now, but the sight of Seoyoung, someone he obviously trusted, blatantly disrespect his parents made your own blood boil - but so far you'd managed to stay composed. It was only when she asked - no - demanded the king and queen kiss her feet that you broke your silence. "That's enough." Your heart leaps into your throat as you say it, a sliver of regret already entering your mind, and you gulp as she languidly turns to look at you. "Oh? Looks like we have guests." She makes some kind of signal to her guards, you don't know what, but you do know it results in the king and queen being removed from the area, through doors and into a room you don't know the contents of. Your arm begins to ache with how hard you have to grip Jeno to stop him from going any closer to Seoyoung, and it gets worse as he speaks. "Lay a hand on them Seoyoung and I swear-" "-Oh I won't do anything to them," she grins, catlike. "As long as you do something for me." Eyes narrowing, you step back, apprehensive. Seoyoung looks at Jeno stepping in front of you, hand on his hilt, and laughs - quite familiarly, you note, to the figure that greeted you when you went to the Empire's camp a few weeks prior. "Why so afraid? It's fairly simple…. I should hope." "All you have to do," she continues, voice lowering to an unsettling purr, the contrast to her earlier persona still throwing you off, "Is kneel before your queen," she preens, ascending the steps and positioning herself comfortably on the queen's throne. Jeno grunts in frustration, Seoyoung simply grins in satisfaction. "What is it that you want?" He pleads, strained. As slowly as she sat down, Seoyoung rises, making her way to and around Jeno, her movements serpentine. "Oh, I just want what every young girl wants," she sighs, dreamily, trailing a finger down his arm as she circles the room, "True love and a reckoning, blood, fire, a pony…" She stepped closer, lips brushing his ear, "the precious little crown you're going to inherit."

Eyes aflame with anger you shoved between them, "The people would never accept you as their queen." You spat, and with an unnerving tilt of her head, Seoyoung's gaze met yours, lips curved into a half smile. The next second, as she continued to stare, you saw a flash of something flare up in her gaze. You realised what it was as your legs were suddenly screaming in agony, a sharp pain forcing you to kneel and a dark aura radiated from her. Looking to Jeno for help, you tried to get his attention, only hearing his grunts of pain to tell you he was in the same boat. "With all due respect, darling," she purred, bending to your height, her half smile widening into a complacent simper, "I think they will." She nodded at her guards, and together they left with a flourish, the slam shut of the door you and Jeno had entered through finally allowing the pain to stop. Bodies exhausted, dregs of agony still refusing to leave your bones, you help each other up and set off to find Jeno's parents. The walk is rightfully silent, the clack of your shoes against the floor the only sound permeating the air. You find them, thankfully okay, just unconscious and tied up, and the two of get to work undoing the ties. "We should wake them up," you grunt, back towards Jeno, "Tell them to get somewhere safe." "I think we should leave them here. Let them rest and wake up in their own time." "There are people dying as we speak, Jeno, and you want to leave your parents here? To rest?" "At least I'll know where they are. I can send a guard to stay with them-" "Every guard is in battle with the Empire's forces right now! And if we leave them here, you forget that Seoyoung will know where they are as well." You pinch the bridge of your nose, progress to rubbing a thumb back and forth across your brow. "Do you- do you want her to find them?" Jeno is silent as you turn around, looking directly at him. "Are you working with her?" "Y/N, no. No, I would never do that, ever, not in a million years! You know me, Y/N," You give him a long look, taking a deep breath. "No, Jeno. I don't." A part of you feels like you shouldn't have doubted him that much, but a larger part of you knows you were right. You don't know Jeno. At least, not anymore. Once you get both parents awake, you give a brief summary of what went on and warn them to leave - and they do, albeit sceptically. Jeno's worry shows clear on his face, but you say nothing of it as the both of you continue to go through the palace, trying to find an exit that isn't barred by enemies, avoid Seoyoung and at the very least, find Jaemin and Renjun to regroup with all at the same time. Thankfully, you arrive at the palace courtyard in one piece, and find Jaemin and Renjun messily defending themselves against 4 other knights, who's swords kept dangerously close to Renjun's arm and Jaemin's neck. Exasperated, you huff, find another sword to use, and ram it into the nearest soldier - his choked out groans of pain combined with the coppery tang of his blood as it leaked out was enough to make bile rise in your throat, but you force it back down as you and Jeno join the battle to help take the weight off of Jaemin and Renjun. After subduing all of them, plus some extra who had appeared, the four of you leave the palace courtyard, running continuously until you're sure you're safe, and there's another awkward silence, everyone pointedly avoiding your gaze. You feel Jeno's hand still clasping yours, and shake it off, his touch uncomfortable. "So…where do we go from here?" Jaemin's the first to break the quietude. "We go home," you state. Renjun looks at you and then in the direction of the castle, confused. You huff, rubbing your temples. "My home." -- The four of you board a boat to the Isles early the next morning - after barely getting any sleep in the palace stables you'd had to take refuge in the night before - to avoid detection. You'd had no idea whether the Empire's forces had overrun the whole kingdom yet, and didn't want to take any chances by leaving later on when there was currently a bounty on the heads of those travelling with you. You all arrive home in one piece, and go your separate ways upon arrival; you and Jeno towards the palace, and Jaemin and Renjun towards the city to find a place to stay. You blatantly ignore Jeno for the first few days back - you return to sitting across from him at breakfast, you barely reply to his questions most times, and generally act like he doesn't exist. It works - but you know you can't keep it up for long. You conveniently hid the piece of information about Jeno practically cheating on you from your parents,so you knew you couldn't keep ignoring him forever without them noticing at some point and asking questions. It seemed that Jeno had come to this realisation also, as he cornered you in your room on one day that you'd been especially ignoring him, brushing him off whenever he even so much as breathed in your direction. "Jeno, get out of my--" "We need to talk. And I'm not leaving until you hear me out." You folded your arms. "There's nothing to talk about. You led me on, I fell for it, I found out, and now I hate you. What more is there to say?" His face fell. "You really hate me?" You sighed. Of course you didn't. But every time you closed your eyes, you saw the image of him kissing her again - so would it really be such a lie if you said you did? "…Just get out of my room, Jeno." He turned to leave, looking at you one last time, before going, shutting the door behind him as he went. Sighing, you threw yourself back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, happy to be alone, when the door opened once more. It was Jeno again. "I'm sorry I just--I can't leave without telling you the truth,"

"What truth? That you loved her all along and now that she's shown herself to be some evil villain you think you can just come in here and- and use my feelings as some way to make yourself feel better?" Your voice began to shake, the lump in your throat appeared again, and your eyes watered and you hated that you were crying in front of him, that he'd made you like this because it wasn't fair, Goddamnit.

It wasn't fair that you still hurt so bad, while he didn't seem that hurt at all. If anything he seemed inconvenienced. Inconvenienced that everything had to come out like this. "I'm--I'm sorry, Y/N." His voice was a little rougher, a little choked up, and you could tell he was on the verge of breaking. He sat down at the edge of your bed, placing a hand on yours, tentatively. You don't pull away. "I met Seoyoung a year after I left. My parents didn't tell me when I would see you again; I didn't even think this would happen this soon," You nod, signalling him to continue. "I was lonely, and I found it hard to adjust to the way I used to be when you'd shown me so much more. Nobody but her really understood how I felt. She gave me an escape." A little smile graces his features, and your heart chips at the fact that if you weren't sure he loved you before, you could be certain he didn't love you now. Either way, you were finding this all a little hard to process - some girl he'd barely met when he moved home became his only friend due to his weird relationship with his parents. "I guess I just wanted to live as freely as I could before I was tied down forever." Tied down? Is that really what he thought being married to you would be like? Had he forgotten how close you were as children? "What about the ball," you whisper. "Huh?" his eyes flick over to yours and you meet his gaze. "I said. What about the ball. When I saw you," you struggle to get the final two words out, coming out as a reluctant mumble "….kissing her." He stiffens at that. "I didn't mean to kiss her," You cock a brow, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Not in there, at least!" "So you meant to kiss her somewhere else? So I'd never find out?" You exclaim, scandalised. "No, no, that's not what I meant-- just listen to me--" "--I am, Jeno. And I'm struggling to see the point." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "I was going to tell her then. That we couldn't be together, that I was betrothed. But she kissed me and I--I don't know. I don't know anymore," "Then why lead me on? Why kiss me, why make me think that you wanted this, why use me?" "Because," he breathes, leaning towards you, "I love you, Y/N. I always have," For a moment you felt as though your heart could explode with joy. Your childhood friend-turned-crush-turned-lover confessing his love for you. If this was a different situation, it would've been everything you'd ever wanted. But you knew better. "Oh, save it. You're just saying that to make me feel better. You don't love me, Jeno. You just think you do." "I meant it, Y/N. I really do love--," You hold up a hand, cutting him off. "You love Seoyoung. Not me. We need to focus on stopping her anyways," The two of you make eye contact, Jeno's intense gaze meeting your stubborn one. Wordlessly, he goes to the door once more, saying one sentence before leaving. "I meant what I said. I'll prove it to you." You knew he didn't,at least you thought so. You thought you knew him better than anyone and you were clearly wrong about that so maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about this. But you had enough faith in yourself to know you were right. You avoided Jeno for the rest of the day aside from dinner when you absolutely had to be around him, and all through that he'd smile at you and pretend everything was okay. It made you sick to smile back, but you pushed through, determined not to let your parents suspect anything. Events in the Mainland and the issue of trying to protect the Isles already commanded most of their attention - letting them know that the practically lifelong betrothal they'd arranged had gone horribly wrong wasn't something you wanted to disclose just yet. Besides, if staying with Jeno meant the safety of your people, a little sacrifice of your happiness wouldn't be too much of a price to pay, you thought. The knights quarters had always been a second home to you - it was where you first met Haechan, where you made friends with Chenle, where you gave advice, got advice, told stories, played pranks, shared secrets - and now you were going there to share the biggest secret of all. You find Haechan's door, and you're about to enter when you pause. You can hear Chenle's signature laugh, Haechan's teasing lilt; that was fine - but why were Renjun and Jaemin's voices mixed in with them? You wouldn't call yourself childish, and you wouldn't call yourself petty either, but hell, you couldn't care less if people called you those things and more because the idea of Jaemin and Renjun making friends with your best friends made you feel more than slightly ill. Your parents had insisted Renjun and Jaemin stay in the palace once you'd told them all that had happened back on the Mainland - at first you'd been somewhat indifferent about it, but seeing them through the crack of the door - heads thrown back in laughter, eyes turned into crescents from their wide smiles - makes you suddenly wish you hadn't told your parents about them at all. You stand at the doorway, swing the door fully open, and wait for them to notice your presence. It's almost laughable, really, how fast Haechan and Chenle brighten even more when they see you, and how fast Renjun and Jaemin lose the smiles and clear their throats, trying to make a quick exit as Chenle grabs your wrist and drags you further in. "Y/N!" He beams, his smile easing the suffering in your heart a little. "Come sit!" You stand, uncomfortable, as Renjun and Jaemin's eyes are both suddenly pinned to the stone tiles of the floor. The grin slowly falls off of Chenle's face as he notices the cooling of the room's mood. "...Uh, guys?" He says, hoping someone other than him breaks the silence and soon. "I think we should go," Renjun suggests, sheepish, him and Jaemin both leaving before Chenle can even ask why. Throwing yourself onto Haechan's bed, just like you used to, you let out a defeated sigh. "Something you need to tell me about?" He jokes, lying next to you. "There are many things I need to talk to you about," you reply. "Hey, what about me?" Chenle chimes in, standing over the two of you. "The both of you," you correct, "There are many, many things I need to talk to the both of you about." And so you vent. You tell them everything, from beginning to end, and by the time you're done, it's a struggle trying to get the two of them not to go and give Jeno a piece of their minds. Chenle can do nothing but sink to a crouch, mouth open in disbelief. "I just don't get it," Haechan breathes. "You seemed so close, how could he- do something like that?" He grabs your hands and pulls you into his arms. "Y/N, I'm so sorry." Face half smushed into his chest, half not, you smile to the best of your ability. "It's ok," you mumble, defeated, "Well it isn't, but it's ok as it's going to be. I guess." Haechan's embrace is warm, tight, reassuring. As his hand rubs circles into your back, slightly rocking back and forth, you wonder if life would've been easier if you'd never been betrothed. If you'd somehow, by some weird stroke of fate, fallen for him instead of Jeno. At the very least, the biggest thing you'd have to worry about when marrying Haechan would be getting him to shut up. Being talkative was one of the traits the both of you shared, to a fault. You untangle yourself from him and meet his confused gaze. "Haechan, I need you to promise me something." "Of course." He nods along, wary. "Please, please don't bring this up to him," you wince as you say it because you can feel his judgement. "Y/N, you can't be serious." "Please, Haechan. I don't- I don't really want to hear about my husband cheating on me any more than necessary, you know?" The way your voice trails off in the latter part of that sentence loosens Haechan's resolve. "Fine," he grumbles, folding his arms. Chenle puts an awkward hand on your shoulder - he'd never really been one for physical contact - finally gathering some words to say. "No matter what happens, Y/N, we'll support you." The two of you nod at each other, and for once, the plague of Jeno on your mind is lifted, as you appreciate just how lucky you are to have friends as priceless as these. The reprieve is temporary, though, as two knocks in quick succession and a push at the door reveal Jeno, looking a little more exhausted than the last time you'd seen him. Chenle moves in front of you, and Haechan stands, the both of them stony-faced. "Is it okay if I come in?" Jeno asks, still standing at the threshold of the door. "I don't know," says Haechan. "Is it okay if I let a liar into my room?" You try to get his attention, to tell him to relax, but his focus is firmly fixed onto Jeno. "You can come in," whispers Chenle, and Haechan's head whips round to glare at him in shock. Chenle ignores it, and continues speaking. "Why did you come here?"

"Because," Jeno begins, "Because I wanted to know if I could make things right. If she'd let me." He tries to meet your eyes, and you can feel him looking at you, but you ignore it. He'd done enough damage, and you didn't even want to give him the time of day. Haechan seems to notice this, and speaks for you. "You want to know how to make things right? Get out of here," Jeno's expression goes from hopeful to crushed - you're glad he hasn't noticed you started looking at him. "Stop walking around here as though everything is fine, and go fix the mess in your own kingdom- a kingdom you're supposed to be future king of - before trying to save a marriage you ruined. What kind of king abandons his country in need?" The ire in Haechan's voice is so palpable you've never been more thankful that you weren't on the receiving end of it. There is a long silence after his speech of sorts, and all you hear from Jeno is a simple "Thank you," before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. "Before you get all angry at me, you never said I couldn't say anything about him, right Chenle?" Haechan begs, looking back and forth between you and Chenle, looking at you to make sure you don't kill him, and at Chenle for moral support. "He is kind of right there, Y/N." You groan at the both of them, rolling your eyes. -- You couldn't be angry at Haechan - because you agreed with what he said. He was right in what he said to Jeno, which was why you were angry at yourself for the fact that you were currently chasing Jeno down the hallway, for reasons you'd probably address when you were alone in your room at night - or any other time that wasn't right now. "Jeno!" You call, and chuckle, mirthlessly, at the irony of how it was now you doing the chasing and not him. His hair flutters and settles beautifully as he turns abruptly, and you almost, almost, forget you're supposed to be angry at him when you see the innocent widening of his eyes and slight opening of his mouth as he turns to your calling of his name. You catch up with him, taking a minute to catch your breath, and cursing yourself as you still have trouble comfortably speaking. "I just," you wheeze, "I just wanted to tell you...not to listen to Haechan...he's angry for me," For all that tree climbing you did as a child, it was crazy how you wouldn't be at least somewhat more fit than you were now. "He's right," he replies, and you raise an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath. "I have a plan - Haechan said I needed to fix things, and I will." Before you can even get out a 'How?', he cuts you off. "Just trust me." He doesn't give you any more information than that, and goes back to borderline running through the hallways, leaving you alone, having caught your breath too late to call after him. -- You're greeted at breakfast the next morning by an empty seat across from you and questions from your parents that you can only make just about believable answers to. A quick search and some asking around leads you to find that Jeno is gone, having only left a note for Jaemin and Renjun notifying them of his departure - meaning if you wanted to know where he'd gone and what he'd gone to do (though you already had a pretty solid idea), you'd have to talk to the two people you most definitely had more of a dislike for than anything else. It's Jaemin who notices you first, unsure of what to do or whether to go as it becomes clear that you're actually approaching the two of them, and not just taking a walk around the palace courtyard. "Y/N," he smiles, and you can tell he's just trying to be polite by the way the smile doesn't reach his eyes and his smile looks more and more like a grimace the longer he holds it. "Is there anything we can help you with?" A corner of your lips quirks a little as Jaemin nudges Renjun to turn around. "Did Jeno tell either of you where he went? I can't find him," Its Renjun who tells you that all Jeno left for them was a note with five words: I'm going to fix it. And with that, your suspicions are confirmed; Jeno had most likely gone back to the Mainland, to 'fix' the problems that plagued it there. However now, and only now, was when you felt angry at Haechan for his outburst a day earlier - because now Jeno was gone, and you still had questions that only he could answer, whether you liked what you would've heard or not. "Um...while you're here," says Renjun, breaking you out of your reverie, "I-" a sharper nudge from Jaemin, one that actually looks painful, causes him to correct himself. "We, wanted to apologise. For the ball. As Jeno's friends, we should've stopped him as soon as it started." You disliked Renjun and Jaemin for their role in the whole Jeno being a cheater debacle, but truth-be-told, you weren't all that angry at them, because they had no real loyalty to you. Jeno was supposed to be your best friend. By principle, he would've been the last person you'd expect to ever betray you. And yet, he did. So you weren't angry at Jaemin and Renjun for siding with their own friend. You felt hurt, by Jeno. "It wasn't your fault." You mutter to the pair of them, before turning to leave. -- It was sickening. Sickening, Jeno thought, how easily he'd let himself be fooled for so long, by someone he trusted so much. As he mounted the steps two at a time into the palace, he wonders if that's how you had felt, when everything had fallen apart just over a week prior. He still felt a pang in his chest every time he pictured the look on your face from that day; hurt, betrayed, disbelieving. As he entered and saw the Empire's flags strewn all over the previously pristine castle interior, he wondered just when he'd lost himself this much. Haechan was right - what kind of king was he? He'd barely any idea of where his parents had gone after that night; if Seoyoung had taken them again, if they were safe; he hadn't even bothered to find a way to check up on his kingdom, which was already beginning to lose its shine and lustre at the occupation draining the life out of its veins. He felt like a waste of a king - no, he was one. But at the very least, the least he could do as a king in its own right was save his kingdom from the invaders that plagued it - he had a plan, and it was going to work. It had to; he had no other choice. Seeing the door of the throne room again brought back memories Jeno didn't really want to think about; it simply reminded him of his own horrible, horrible mistake - but he steeled his resolve and pushed open the door. It's entirely too laughable how Seoyoung is sat in the same place she was when he left - perched on the queen's throne, red hair tied back, and eyes that looked dull and soulless. Was that what he'd allowed himself to fall for? "Jeno!" She croons, beckoning her guards to bring him closer. "I missed you," Her patronising manner of speech, like a mother to its child, felt like nails scratching down a chalkboard to his ears. But he pushed through it, put on the best smile he could muster, and began to execute the first step of his plan. "Really?" He asks, eyes coy. "I thought you would've wanted me gone." He's directly in front of her now, can see in detail just how much the old Seoyoung, the one he used to know, was gone. But was she ever really there? That was a question Jeno had been asking himself since he'd arrived at this place. "Oh Jen," she purrs, and its a struggle not to narrow his eyes at the old nickname, "I wanted everyone else gone," She rises off of the throne to meet him face to face, slinking around him to put her hands on his shoulders, lips brushing his ear as she speaks. "But you and I, you with your crown and I with my power," It's somewhat frightening how absorbed she sounds, "Jen, we could rule the world! You and me," How stupid did she think he was? It was all too clear to Jeno what she was doing; the nickname to soften his resolve, the enthusiasm in her words, the closeness to try and distract him from what she was really saying - that she wanted him to give up his throne to let her rule the world, not them together - but just her. So he agreed. "We can rule the world," he breathes, realisation tinging the edges of his voice. "Together," he half asks, half states. "Yes," she sighs, "Together." -- There are a lot of things Jeno comes to find out, the longer he stays with Seoyoung. One; He was right - ever since he'd agreed to joining Seoyoung's side, she'd taken the lead in everything, and had gotten strangely irritated whenever Jeno tried giving his input (not that he did often, of course). Two; His parents, thankfully, were still safe. From keeping his ear to the ground and bits and pieces of information he'd managed to scrape from the servants of the palace, he'd found out that they were in hiding, and that Seoyoung already had guards looking for them. "To bring them home and keep them safe," she said when he'd asked. But he knew what she really wanted to do with them. Three: You were right - when you said she'd never be accepted as Queen. Jeno soon learns that the only guards who truly respect her are the ones left from the crew she stormed the palace with - and that the original palace guards were still loyal to him. --. They're in the throne room when it all comes together; the planning and secret preparation he'd been working towards for the past 3 weeks. This time he would put Seoyoung away, once and for all - especially now that he'd learned that his parents had been found and that they were locked in the dungeons, courtesy of Seoyoung, of course. "Promise me you'll stay with me forever," she whispers, and Jeno's stomach turns as her lips graze his. "I promise," he says, opening his eyes to find Seoyoung's still shut. It's in this moment where his chance arrives - he clicks his fingers 3 times, and lets out a low whistle; the code he'd devised with the guards a few days prior to summon them. As the guards file in, coming closer and closer towards the two, Jeno's hands rise from her clasp to cup her face - which, from this angle, Jeno thinks, almost looks innocent. He offhandedly wonders what may have happened to make Seoyoung such a contrast to her features. "Jeno." She mumbles, eyes still shut, forehead still leaning against his, a hand rising up to cup his. "What are the guards doing here?" He hums, voice low. "Just trust me," A sliver of a smirk graces his features as he continues, "I have a surprise." He takes her hands and lowers them, still holding them - trying to make it as easy as possible for the guards to slam the restraints on as fast as they can. Slowly, delicately, he steps away from Seoyoung; a tilt of his head signalling one guard to come forward and do the act - and, like a cliché flash, it happens. He lets go, the shackles come down, and Seoyoung's eyes finally snap wide open; the same flash from that night occurs again in her gaze, but it does nothing. The shackles were made of iron - specifically to block her from using any of her tricks to get away. At her inability to inflict harm the way she desired, Seoyoung's expression crumples into a horrid mix of anger and shock. "Jeno," she calls, tone shaky, uncertain. "What are you doing?" He says nothing - simply allows himself to giggle loud enough for her to hear as the guards drag her down to the dungeons. As she should be. As she should've been all those months ago. -- "I'll give you whatever - money, power, control - freedom from your parents I know you hate so much - all you have to do is join me, Jeno." She'd been down here for over a week, allowed no contact with anyone while he tried to restore order in the kingdom above. It seemed, from the borderline feral look in her eyes and the fatigue that plagued her very being, that being in the dungeons was taking its toll. No, it didn't seem so; the longer she spoke, Jeno knew it was so. "What happened to ruling the world, together?" She pleads. Trying to appeal to him using his own words, he notes. He says nothing, simply keeps eye contact with her and lets her continue. A guard barks at her to keep quiet - she glares at them, grunting as the shackles on her wrists prevent her from doing what she so desires, and returns her gaze to Jeno. "Jen, stop being stupid and tell them to let me out, please." Again with the nickname, he thinks. Before, long ago, when he'd first met her, his heart would've fluttered, cheeks would've reddened at her use of the name. Now, though, all it did was send an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. "Jen? Jeno, tell them to let me out." She's less desperate and more irritated now, his silence, his blank, uncaring, stare making her ever angrier. He wonders, as he's done so many times he's had to be around her, as she nags and scolds and patronises, just who Seoyoung even was. If he ever knew her. He wonders, for the second time, if this was how you felt. She's gone back to being desperate now, but with some emotional guilt-tripping to really try and pull at his heartstrings. "If you love me, Jeno - if you ever loved me - you'd let me out. Please," He's silent. "If you love me, you'll do the right thing! Jen, please!" If he loved her. He inwardly scoffs at the thought. What he had for Seoyoung, he realised, wasn't love. No - maybe it was love, at one point. But now, now he realised that it had turned into infatuation. And after her big reveal, that infatuation had quickly left, leaving nothing but disgust in its wake. "You don't get to call me that name. Not anymore," He says, brows furrowed, lips curled into a sneer, as Seoyoung grips the bars of the cell, tears rimming her eyes. "I never loved you, Seoyoung. And I am doing the right thing," he spat, leaving her to rot in her cell, her calls and shouts sounding like static the further away he got. -- With Seoyoung out of action, Jeno uses her as ransom to get the Empire troops to leave - and they do this time. Once they're gone, he stays in the mainland for a while, working on re-establishing the monarchy. For once, he thinks, maybe the title of king truly belonged to him. His parents, since being freed, had done nothing but pull Jeno into a tight embrace, and had then kept mostly to themselves. The embrace was probably the most amount of affection Jeno had ever received, but it was a start. At last, he felt, things were beginning to change. -- You were anxious. More than anxious, you were worried. You'd heard a little here and there of the events that had happened, of Jeno supposedly joining forces with Seoyoung to betray her in the end, and safe to say, your own feelings about him were now a mess of emotions. On the one hand, a part of you was still angry at him for leaving, for putting you through all this, for practically breaking your heart - on the other hand, you had to respect his diligence; he said he was going to fix things, and he did. He also showed that he was done with Seoyoung; he'd had the girl imprisoned, for goodness sake. But still... were you really ready to forgive him? It's these thoughts that have you deep in the trenches of your mind before the doors to the throne room, where you're so nervously pacing, open and shut. You look up, suspicious of who it may be; maybe a handmaid, maybe Jaemin or Renjun wanting to have a chat, maybe- "I fixed it," he breathes. It's him. You're speechless, lost for words, can barely function as Jeno's arms engulf you, as vanilla and nutmeg overpower your senses, as his grip on you becomes just a little tighter, like he couldn't ever bear to let you go. You pull away, putting some distance between you. You missed him, *yes*, but there were things you needed to discuss. You almost rush back into his arms at the flash of hurt that graces his features, but steel yourself. There were things you needed to say, this you knew - so why was it so hard for you to speak? There's a weird silence between you both; Jeno clearing his throat, you fiddling with your dress - you're almost there, have almost found the right words to say, but as usual, Jeno seems to beat you to it. "I wanted to give you a proper apology," he starts. His hands are shaking, and he balls them into fists. "There's no excuse for what I did, at all. And-" he stutters, "And if you've decided you don't want to be with me anymore, then I understand. I'll tell our parents everything. You deserve a lot better than me, Y/N." Your heart finally feels somewhat at peace. All the turmoil, all the heartbreak; It was only an apology, but you felt like you could start to build something with Jeno again. "I do deserve better," you acknowledge, and Jeno swears his heart chips a little at the thought that he really had lost you forever. "But I don't want better." You breathe slow. "I want to give us another try." Jeno grins so wide his cheeks ache, then takes a step towards you. "Also," you continue, "I need to apologise. I shouldn't have doubted you, that time with your parents. I went too far, and I shouldn't have." Jeno shakes his head vigorously, "No, no! I deserved everything I got. If anything, I'm happy you're even willing to have me," He takes your hands in his, leans his forehead against yours, and feels the tension in his shoulders that had been there for who knows how long, finally release. "Could I- Would I be able to-" He sighs in annoyance at himself, and you feel a genuine smile begin to form for the first time in what seems like a long time. "Can I kiss you?" He asks, hesitant to overstep a boundary. You close your eyes, look into his, and see no secrets there. "Yes," you whisper. Jeno kisses with emotion - like you're a fragile thing he simply mustn't break, but also like he'll never see you again. Jeno puts everything he couldn't put into words into this kiss, as though its your own secret language - a language you had no difficulty understanding. As he cups your cheeks, leans back a little, and simply looks, deeply, into your eyes, you catch the second of his unspoken messages. I love you, his eyes say. I love you, say yours.

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smileyseungmin · 4 years

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Works in Progress...

Wow so I swear I’m not just lazy im a bit lazy but I’m just busy and don’t have that much time to write a lot... however I do have some stories I am in the middle of writing that I am excited to post, soon hopefully, but I figured i would give a preview of each of them.

The Flower of Our Friendship

Throughout your life, there has always been two constants you could turn to, sunflowers and Jeongin. Jeongin being your best friend since childhood and sunflowers symbolizing that wonderful friendship you have with Jeongin. Yet, just like all flowers, sunflowers also have to die, withering away until there is nothing left. Being friends with an idol isn’t an easy task, yet you still try to manage. However, as Jeongin and his group grows in popularity and you start to face challenges of your own, this beloved friendship will truly become a sunflower, up until the fall of the last petal.

Preview:

"I never realized sunflowers were this tall!" Jeongin exclaimed loudly, eyes wide as he looked up at the beautiful yellow flowers that seemed to tower over everything. Sunflowers. They were vibrant with color, the yellow shining so brightly, it seemed to challenge the sun itself. Sunflowers. They stood tall with pride, looming over everything and showing everyone that nothing can get in its way. Sunflowers. They were truly a special flower.

"You know, sunflowers actually represent friendship and the special bond between friends." Jeongin looked at you with wonder in his eyes, surprised that you knew such a thing.

"Wow! Really?" You nodded your head confidently.

"Yup! My mom told me so."

"Wow… that's cool." There was a small period of silence between you two. "So that means that this is our flower."

You watched in confusion as Jeongin walked over to a patch of tiny sunflowers and picked two. He walked back over to and handed you one of the flowers with a big smile. You took it into your hands carefully, cradling it delicately as if it was made of precious porcelain. You looked back up at Jeongin with a smile wide enough to rival his.

"Yes, the sunflower is now our flower."

That moment was years ago, thirteen years ago to be exact and between that day and now, the sunflower was always a constant in your friendship with Jeongin. Every single time he saw a wild sunflower growing, he would pick a handful for you and give it to you the next time he saw you. You, on the other hand would constantly draw him sunflowers and he'd keep every single one in a special place in his room. Jeongin even bought matching necklaces for the both of you, a small locket that had a sunflower engraved onto it and a picture of the both of you securely placed in it.

Throughout those years, you saw your friendship with Jeongin grow and blossom into something beautiful and amazing. The two of you became inseparable. Two peas in a pod, each other's partners in crime. Despite all the friends that came and left, all the meaningless relationships you endured, and all the small crushes you ever had, the two of you stuck together, standing tall and strong like a sunflower.

However, sunflowers don't last forever. They sprout, they grow, they bloom. Their colors become so vibrant and absolutely stunning, people can't help and stare in awe. They peak in their absolute beauty, but then they fall. They start to droop, petals slowly fall away, touching the ground with a saddened silence. They lose their color, becoming dull and meaningless, catching the eye of no one. They slowly shrivel up, wither away, becoming smaller and smaller until there's nothing left, and they are left to decay.

Loose in the City

A string of mysterious murders have come up in Seoul that leaves the people and the police on edge. Long rivals y/n, one of the best detectives from the Violent Crimes department, and Lee Minho, the infamous detective from the Homicide department are forced to team up to solve this mystery of who is behind all of these seemingly unrelated deaths. However, as they dive deeper into this case, they start to dig up old cases that were left cold or hidden away for the public to forget. Secrets start to be revealed and questions can only be answered with more questions as y/n and Minho try to solve this never ending case.

Preview:

Terror ran wildly through his veins as he tried his absolute hardest to stay the quietest he has ever been. His breathing was so shallow he wasn’t even sure he was even breathing. He silently prayed to all the gods he ever knew that whoever was downstairs,whatever monster that entered his house would leave. That he wouldn’t even look toward the stairs that lead right to where he hid.

He didn't know how it even happened. He was simply lying on his bed, scrolling through Twitter when he heard it. The shattering of glass. The confused shouts. The ear piercing scream. He jumped from his bed and ran to the top of the stairs, but stopped short. He listened, but heard nothing. Not a single sound, aside from his short breaths. He took a step, ready to investigate the absence of sound, when he heard it.

THUD

The sound of something heavy hitting the ground. The sound of a body hitting the ground. He froze. He stopped breathing. That was the sound of one of his parents body's hitting the floor. His parents were dead, murdered by the hands of whoever was downstairs. He felt sick. Like he was going to throw up.

He slowly backed up from the stairs and locked himself in his room. He surveyed his room, trying to find the one thing that could grant him freedom. His phone. It was lying on his bed, screen gone black from the lack of usage in the past few minutes. Before he could even reach his phone however, he heard the unmistakable sound of footprints slowly making his way up the stairs.

Grabbing his phone, he stealthy ran over to his door, making sure it was locked and turned off the lights. The footsteps became louder and louder with each passing second and he knew that he was running out of time.

He hid in his closet. He knew that it wasn't that effective but it was the best he could think of. He wasn't listening to the footsteps anymore, too busy typing out a letter, meant to go to his best friend. No matter what happened to him, he was the one person who deserved to know what had happened to him. He didn't even bother to read it over, sending it as soon as it was finished.

He stared at the screen, the only thing that he actually cared about, not the fact that there was a murderer who was just outside his bedroom door, picking the lock or that his parents were dead in the living room. The only thing he cared about was if he had seen the message.

Someone called him, just as the closet doors swung open, but he couldn't see who it was. Instead he just screamed.

Happily Never After

The devil disguised as an angel. That’s the only way you could describe her. Your step sister, Yeji. The one that “had it terrible” and the one that you had “mistreated” It was all a lie, some story she made up to win the heart of the stunning prince, Hwang Hyunjin. Yet you knew that behind those striking eyes and beautiful smile, she was evil at heart, yet it was too late, because while you and your family was forced to stay in the town, she was able to ride away with her “true love” and get married and live her happily ever after. All was peaceful in the kingdom, that was until the King suddenly died in his sleep, and you knew, this was the work of your step sister, and so did someone else in the castle.You and this mystery person have to devise a plan to stop prince Hyunjin’s coronation from happening before Yeji becomes Queen and kills Hyunjin, becoming the sole ruler of the kingdom.

Preview:

Everyone knows the story of Cinderella. How the unfortunate girl who lost her mother, then later her father, was forced to live under the rule of her cruel stepmother and awful step sisters. Then she met the dashing prince and it was love at first sight. They dance, gracing the ballroom with their beauty. That was until the clock struck twelve and she was forced to leave the prince behind, but not without leaving something for the prince. He scours the entire kingdom, looking for the one and he does, but not after dealing with her terrible family. They rejoice and ride together back to the castle, leaving the family behind in the hands of karma. A touching story really, except for it really isn’t. It’s quite the opposite actually. The infamous fairy tale has it all wrong. That unfortunate girl didn't live an awful life. She wasn't mistreated and she surely did not deserve the life that she got. Her step family wasn't cruel to her. They never forced her to become a servant of her own house, they never ridiculed her and tore her pretty dresses up. They never prevented her from going to that ball. But she was manipulative, twisting her words to make them seem like the bad guy, to win over the heart of the prince, to make her seem like the innocent dove in a horrendous tragedy. She knew of the power that she held and she took advantage of that, earning her the life that an evil person did not deserve.

"Everyone gather around! This is a message from the royal family!" A voice cried out, drawing out the villagers from their homes, confusion adorning their features. You heard the sound of hooves thundering against the ground and the silhouette of a nobleman from the castle came into view. The nobleman came to a halt in the middle of the market, making sure that he had the attention of everyone before speaking.

"I am Minho, a nobleman from the royal family and the King's adviser. It is with great sadness that I announce that the King peacefully passed away in his sleep." Shocked gasps and concerned murmurs filled the streets, everyone looking at each other for confirmation. “A private funeral was requested by the royal family, and the coronation for the prince will be due within these upcoming weeks. More details will be announced when the invitations are handed out.”

The sound of the horses faded away as you stared in disbelief. The King… dead? There was no way, the King was perfectly fine and healthy last week when he visited the village. You had a sinking feeling that this perhaps wasn't an unfortunate tragedy. You knew that your step sister had to be behind this, there was no way she wasn't.

I have some others but these are the main three I am focusing on as of right now.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #wips

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spotofjane · 5 years

Text

Why does the North want independence? No really?

The North historically was not defined by its independence, but rather its allegiance to the crown. During the War of Conquest, Torrhen Stark knelt to save his people the inevitable bloodshed war would bring. This is what the North DOES. It is a kingdom that puts its people, its pragmatism, first. Who cares who is on some chair down south as long as they are fine and not oppressed?

It kept the peace and, important to Northern culture/religion/people, not much changed. Aegon just named the Starks as Wardens of the North and the North preserved their culture and unique religion, left mostly to their own.

The North supported the Targaryen dynasty UNTIL the Mad King because said king grew to be a threat to the Realm.

IMPORTANTLY, the North SUPPORTED ANOTHER RULER: Robert Baratheon. They revolted NOT because they wanted independence (the North has never wanted independence!), but because they wanted a BETTER KING IN THE SOUTH. It worked, and the North was content to basically keep to their own in peace.

When Joffery became king and killed Ned Stark, the North revolted and an independent state with Robb Stark as The King in the North. This came with multiple problems.

1) The North can only function well as an independent state when the leadership in King’s landing is open to negotiate to make this decision, which would be possible if the North had worked to rebel and put in place new leadership in King’s Landing (like was done in Roberts Rebellion).

- 1.a) But they didn’t.

- 1.b) Instead, they declared autonomy during the War of 5 Kings, where the leadership in King’s Landing is contentious --complicating the question of who you are declaring autonomy FROM.

2) Robb claimed the Riverlands as part of his independent state without first securing literally any land south of the River Trident.

- 2.a) This meant he was claiming land literally in contention with Lannister forces, ENSURING war.

- 2.b) This also meant the kingdom had no clear borders.

3) The North can only function well as an independent state when the leadership is capable of taking on the responsibilities of a king.

- 3.a) Robb Stark was not as he married the wrong person bc he Wanted to, ensuring rebellion and fracturing

4) The North can only function well as an independent state when working in tandem with the rest of Westeros

- 4.a) it is notable that the only time the North was an independent state is when literally everywhere else in Westeros was too. The whole continent vs the north does not bode well for the North, no matter how big they are. (This is why uniting in rebellion to instate a new King in King’s Landing would have been better also)

- 4.b) The North is low on resources. It needs the rest of Westeros to trade with (impossible during a war and real bad with Winter coming up). Notably the Reach, operating under House Tyrell that SUPPORTED the Lannisters, is “the most fertile part of Westeros, blessed with vast, blooming fields of crops and flowers, and numerous and well-populated villages and towns; it traditionally helps supply other less fertile parts of the Seven Kingdoms with grain, fruit, wine and livestock.”

- 4.c) in times of food scarcity, notably Winter, the smallfolk suffer first. King’s Landing “[had] enough wheat for a 5 year Winter. If it lasts any longer, [they’d] have fewer peasants.” Thats WITH the support of the Reach. The North could not afford an independence without the support of Westeros. When King’s Landing was cut off from the Reach, it caused the Riot of King’s landing.

The reason Robb’s time as King in the North failed was because of the Lannisters. The reason Robb could not beat the Lannisters is because the North was operating independently Robb Stark literally rejects Jonos Bracken's suggestion they side with Renly. When Renly offers an alliance under the terms that Robb must swear fealty to him as Ned did to Robert, the Starks are resistant.

WHY? Would they rather their people starve alone, warring with a Capital that does not recognize their independence? For what? Some “ideal” of independence? What is the point of independence when it comes at the cost of your people? Nations do not declare themselves independent because it’s cool, they do it because whoever is in power is abusing their authority.

In addition, rebellions like these are only successful when the context is right: when the nation has good leadership in place to take over, when it has a majority established internal loyalty/agreement, when the state they are rebelling against is, to some degree, capable of negotiation. None of these criteria were or currently are met with the North. Especially now considering how crippled they are as a result of the Great War. They are in no way self sustainable, and even if they were, why would they want independence?

Jon Snow, the next King in the North, kneels to Daenerys (echoing Torrhen Stark), because, in Stark fashion, it is the practical thing to do. They needed her (just like Robb truly needed allies like Renly).

Now, the North moves to displace Cersei. Whether they are looking to instate a new Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms or are looking for independence, she needs to go. The question is, what comes next?

When Cersei is gone, why would the North want Independence? It’s looking like either Jon or Daenerys will take the throne. Looking back, we see that The North historically has knelt to avoid war. What is the benefit in independence from the rest of Westeros with either Jon or Daenerys in charge?

With Jon in charge, he would probably just let them be independent because he’s nice (and a bit of a pushover let’s be real). But WHY. Like what would the North gain from independence. The State would no longer be unjust, so why would you want independence? Like I said earlier, Nations demand independence for a Reason. Independence for the sake of independence is pointless at best and can negatively harm the North and her people at worst.

With Daenerys in charge, she would probably not let the North be independent, but there’s nothing to say she wouldn’t just reinstate the Warden of the North system. It’s what she did in Yunkai as well as Mereen. The North was already basically autonomous with all the benefits of being a part of the greater country under the Targaryen dynasty. The only objection would be that the North wants to be fully autonomous, but again I ask WHY?

The North is crippled, still struggling through Winter, and missing the direction of many prominent families that were wiped out. Smallfolk, if even many still live, don’t have House Lords to appeal to because said Lords are mostly dead. I can not imagine the damage that farms and houses went through because of the White Walkers’ storms. Now it is looking like they will lose even more men to the battle with Cersei. The North, if independent, would flounder.

The circumstances that allowed for an independent state in the good old days are gone, and the circumstances that would NECESSITATE an independent North (which I would argue may never be present as rebellion and instating a new king is more efficient and retains the benefits of being part of the Seven Kingdoms) are not present.

The North should not be, nor want to be independent.

#the north #game of thrones #got #cersei #cersei lannister #lannister #house lannister #sansa #sansa stark #jon snow #house stark #stark #house targaryen #daenerys targaryen #targaryen #robb stark #king in the north

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elareine · 5 years

Text

Night falling softly and without mercy

Rating: Mature Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Bruce Wayne Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, well sort-of, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Marriage Proposal, Assassination Attempt(s), Frottage, Fluff Batfam Bingo Square: AU: Royalty AO3: /19132123

Prince Tim receives a proposal he can ill afford to turn down. To save his son from an unhappy marriage, King Bruce has an idea—an idea that forces Jason and Tim to confront the truth they have avoided for three years.

Perhaps the marriage proposal had been inevitable. After all, Tim was third in line to the Midnight Throne. A cynical man might speculate on his brother’s death. A tactical man might consider that he would have the ear of the current and any future king either way. With Tim’s twenty-first birthday quickly approaching, the time seemed ripe for him to make a good match.

This particular proposal would be a hard one to turn down, Tim thought. The girl in question was charming and intelligent—an ideal companion for someone like him. More importantly from a diplomatic point of view, she was a daughter of Bane, the ruler of the Snake’s Head kingdom.

A gentle knock at the door pulled him out from his thoughts. Tim frowned and called out: “Yes?”

Jason was already moving, though. Opening the door cautiously and at an angle as always, he smiled at whoever was on the other side. “Ah, thank you, Maisie.”

When Jason turned back to Tim, the door clicking shut behind him, he held a steaming cup in his hand. Tim perked up as Jason carried it over to the writing desk the prince was sitting at. “Is that coffee?”

At Jason’s nod, Tim grabbed the cup unceremoniously and inhaled the scent deeply. Ever since they had begun to trade with Metropolis again two years ago and the precious beans had become available in Gotham again for the first time in his lifetime, he had been devoted to hot, bracing drink. The only reason he did not take a sip right away was that Jason did not like it.

“Don’t burn yourself,” his guard warned anyway.

Tim smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“You looked like you needed it. Difficult night?”

“Correspondence with Snake’s Head, from Bane himself.”

“That’s a ‘yes’, then.” Jason frowned. “He wrote to you directly? I was under the impression he refused to communicate with anyone but King Bruce.”

Tim considered his answer carefully.

There was nothing you could keep secret from your personal guard. From other servants, maybe— though Tim had no doubt that every single member of the household staff could reveal the most riveting gossip about the royal family to the world if they chose to do so.

Your personal guard, however? Bar when they traded places with another soldier to rest and have some free time, they were with you twenty-four hours of the day. Tim had given up on keeping secrets from Jason years ago.

Well. Except for the one.

“He wrote to Father, yes,” Tim answered slowly. “As it concerns me, I believe Father has left it on my desk so I could acknowledge it… or not.”

He could feel his back muscles tense at the thought of it. Seconds later, he felt a huge, warm hand land on his neck, gently massaging where it hurt the most. “And will you?”

“I should, considering it is a proposal for me to marry his oldest daughter.”

The hand stilled for a brief second. Jason’s voice was even as he asked again: “And will you?”

For a second, Tim considered confronting Jason over his reticence. Shake him. Yell, maybe. Anything to finally get a reaction. He was tired of this.

Instead he said: “It might be a way to influence Bane on certain issues. Guarantee the peace.”

“If you think he values his daughter that much.”

Tim sighed and finished his coffee. “Still, it’s a possibility, and a ‘no’ a definite political calamity. I need to speak to Father.”

“At least we can be sure he’ll still be awake, as well.” Jason sighed, too, but it sounded almost fond.

“Will you accompany me there? I know it is past your shift change already.”

Jason chuckled. “When has that ever stopped me?”

That was true. Tim was fully aware that he slept less than most people. He had a tendency to get lost in whatever matter of state he was currently working on and surface at about the time most righteous people would wake up. Jason had never seemed to mind, though, beyond gently (and persistently - one could even say annoyingly) reminding Tim that he should go to sleep. If he considered the matter Tim was working on important enough, he would stay up with him, either reading a book or joining in on the discussion.

At first, Tim had only tolerated his input on sufferance. As it turned out, however, his bulking mountain of muscle of a guard was smarter and spoke more languages than he’d let on in the beginning. The issue of drug smuggling in the harbour and border districts and the resulting unrest seemed to be the one that interested Jason the most. Tim figured it had been that particular group of outlaws that had sent Jason to kill him.

Oh, yes, he knew about that.

It had become laughingly obvious that Jason wasn’t exactly a regular bodyguard the first time an assassin had tried to take Tim out.

Now, Tim had always been perfectly able to take care of these would-be assassins himself, thank you. It was the reason he’d gotten away without having a personal guard until he turned 18. So he’d been prepared to jump out of the way of the knife and acquaint the assassin with the handy staff he carried under his overcoat— when Jason had moved his body between his attacker and him, made the man crumple to the ground, and turned to fire two arrows from a crossbow Tim hadn’t even known he was carrying.

Two thumps behind them had signalled the arrows had found their targets.

“Couldn’t you have left one alive?” Tim had asked.

Before his eyes the crossbow had vanished again. He’d need to remember that trick. “Oh, this one,” Jason had nudged the first attacker casually with his foot, “is only unconscious.” He’d paused. “And will be for some time.”

“Then there is no need to stay. We are late already.” Tim had turned and walked away.

Behind him, he’d heard Jason laugh, then fall into step. He was fairly certain that had been the day they had become friends.

Now Jason was walking closely behind him again, though he fell back once they’d reached the door to Bruce’s private chambers. He knew there was no safer place in the whole palace. Here, it was alright for him to wait outside.

Bruce called him in as soon as Tim knocked on the heavy door. His king was sitting at his desk, clad in his sleeping clothes and a silk robe. He turned to greet Tim.

“Tim. You have read the letter?”

Tim nodded, settling down on the edge of the desk. There was no one else here; no need for a good posture.

“What do you think?” Bruce asked.

“There are certainly advantages to his offer.”

Bruce nodded for him to continue.

“It would give us political leverage over Snake’s Head. Maybe give the king an incentive to stop shipping their poison into our kingdom,” Tim listed. “Considering he only has one son, any… offspring would tie us closer to them.”

Bruce’s face became grave. Tim readied himself for the worst.

“Tim, what about me adopting three children and having one son out of wedlock gave you the impression I cared about royal lineages or alliances through marriage?”

Tim didn’t know what to say to that.

His father continued: “Your reasons honour you— but I haven’t heard that you want to marry her.”

“I don’t. I…” Tim swallowed. To his humiliation, he felt his eyes grow wet.

They weren’t physically demonstrative with each other often. Now, Bruce stood up and pulled Tim into a hug. “Oh, son. You do so much already. So much. You don’t need to do this.”

Tim pressed his face into his father’s neck and tried to breathe. Times like these, he could still hear his mother telling him he was useless but for his birth status. Bruce had never been like that. Some nights, that was easier to remember than others.

Slowly, his breathing returned to normal.

“Bane will not appreciate a rejection,” was all Tim said when Bruce let him go.

“Yes, that could be a difficulty… Of course, if you were to, say, acquire an engagement we could proclaim tomorrow, we could always pretend to have received the letter too late.”

Tim couldn’t help it— his jaw dropped. “Father! Are you suggesting…”

Bruce held up a placatory hand, but Tim could see his eyes laughing. “Just a suggestion.”

Somehow, Tim had the distinct feeling he was being played. If his older brother weren’t currently away on a mission, he would have suspected him behind it. As it was, Tim looked at his father suspiciously but granted: “It would help.”

“Something to talk about, maybe.” Bruce was smiling way too innocently now, his face closer to the one he presented at court than his private one. “A different sort of alliance, so to speak.”

“Please don’t continue with that thought,” Tim groaned. Then, despite himself: “You wouldn’t mind?”

Bruce’s answer was a gentle push toward the door. “Let me know how you decide in the morning. And Tim— try to sleep.”

“Pot, kettle. Good night, father.”

Outside, Jason turned towards him immediately. His face was visibly tense. Tim smiled at him and started walking towards his quarters.

Still, Jason must have seen the remnants of tears in his face. He walked closer to Tim than on their way here, gently touching his elbow and asking: “Are you alright?”

Tim felt his cheeks heat up.

Damn his father. Now he was thinking about it.

“Yes,” he reassured Jason. Not wanting to have this discussion in the corridor, he tilted his head towards his rooms. Jason nodded and followed him quietly for the rest of the way. His hand stayed on Tim’s arm.

Once they were behind closed doors, Tim sat down. Unlike before, Jason did not avail himself of the setteé behind him, nor took up guard at the door or the balcony. Instead he stood a few feet away from Tim, waiting.

It felt tense, somehow. Like a precipice. As if they both knew their lives would change, now, but neither could guess which direction it would take.

“You know, I’ve been wondering,” Tim told Jason casually—as if he hadn’t wanted to ask this question for almost three years now—, “why you didn’t kill me.”

He kind of expected Jason to deny it. Jason was talker, always mouthing off to whoever it was that managed to annoy him right now. Tim enjoyed that quality; he never tired of the murmured running commentary Jason kept up during state functions. Tim had seen him talking himself out of situations where anyone else would have done well to keep quiet.

But Jason didn’t deny it. His tone was matter-of-fact.

“If it had been purely an assassination attempt, you’d be dead. I don’t need to come near you to kill you.” Jason paused. “In fact, we had already decided it would only be possible to get any of you from a distance. Take that as a compliment.”

Tim did, actually.

Then he asked again: “Why did you not kill me?”

Jason seemed to think for a moment; then he stepped closer. When Tim didn’t flinch, he sank to his knees and knelt right in front of his chair. With Jason’s height, he remained almost eye-level with Tim; still the meaning of the gesture was not lost on Tim.

“We became convinced you are doing everything you think you can to stop the influx of Bane’s poison into our home. Eliminating you would not have served our purpose.”

There were nuances to that statement. Tim wanted to ask about the ‘we’, about ‘everything you think you can’t; he forced himself to concentrate on Jason.

There was something crooked in Jason’s mouth now, as if he was on the verge of smiling— but not quite. “You’re asking the wrong question.”

Tim thought about it.

“Why did you stay?”

Plenty of people had tried to kill him before. Plenty of others hadn’t. Few had ever stayed, especially once they knew him as well as Jason did.

“Because I wanted to.” Jason paused, seemed to consider his words. “To stay with you, that is, as lovely as having a roof over my head and regular income is.”

Something was forming in the back of Tim’s throat (laughter, maybe, or a sob) and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Jason was moving closer, a hand on Tim’s thigh—gently spreading it to make room for himself—, the other on Tim’s neck. Tim could smell him, leather and incense. He hadn’t realized he had leaned forward but was glad that it had put him into easy touching distance.

Finally, Tim said: “So if I were to say that I want to marry no-one but you…”

The smile finally unfurled on Jason’s face. “Then I would gladly agree—but also point out that we seem to have done this backwards, and that it is customary to at least share a kiss before a marriage proposal.”

“Please,” Tim whispered.

Jason surged up, his mouth firmly pressing against Tim’s.

For a second, it was as if either neither of them knew what to do now that they were finally here. Then Jason adjusted the angle a bit, and Tim looped his arms around his neck, and it was everything he’d ever wanted.

After a long, long moment, Jason broke away—but barely, staying so close he was whispering into Tim’s mouth as if he couldn’t bear to be parted any farther. “Is this alright?”

Tim kissed him in answer, a bit more heat behind it now, parting his lips. His eyes fell shut at the first touch of Jason’s tongue.

Suddenly Tim was intensely aware of Jason’s hand on his thigh. It wasn’t doing much, just gently gripping, the thumb rubbing slow circles; Tim couldn’t help but buck into it, something close to a whimper escaping into Jason’s mouth.

Tim didn’t know how long they stayed like that, kissing and kissing and kissing, before he felt Jason’s muscles tense. He kept his own relaxed enough to make it easy for his partner to pick him up in a bridal carry as Jason stood up. Their lips never parted even as Jason carried him towards the bed.

Distantly, Tim thought that he probably liked that feeling a bit too much. Also that he would likely need to forbid Jason from doing the same thing in front of everyone on their wedding day.

Their wedding day.

Because this was Jason agreeing to marry him.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Tim gasped as his back hit the mattress on his bed.

Jason followed him half-way, though he seemed to remember that unlike Tim—who was in his night clothes and had lost his slippers on the way—, he was still fully clothed in his uniform and boots at the last second. “Excuse me, which one of us is a prince? I was waiting for you. I wasn’t sure you—” He stopped.

Tim considered that for a moment before slipping past Jason and off the bed.

Now it was Tim who knelt on the ground before Jason; Tim who took off Jason’s boots with quick fingers; who gently peeled off his breeches and worshipped his skin with light kisses. Finally, he looked up again; whispered: “I’m sure.”

The expression on Jason’s face made him smile.

Strong hands pulled him up and into a kiss again. Tim happily lost himself in it, settling into Jason’s lap as the other divested them both of their remaining clothes. God, he thought a bit deliriously, he could live on those kisses alone. Though, oh, that was Jason’s stomach and cock rubbing against his own; that was nice, too.

Heat was building up around them, now, and it had nothing to with the fire smouldering in the fireplace. Their bodies had found a rhythm, aided by the fluids gathering between them. Tim knew he was close, that Jason was, too; could feel it in the delicate trembles of the body under his, in the way Jason had to separate their mouths to groan and pant for air.

But they returned to kissing, every time, as if they needed it more than breathing.

Jason was the first to tense, coming against Tim’s stomach with a low groan Tim wanted to engrave into his brain. He followed suit with a shudder that felt like it would never stop, and the feeling of letting go of something.

After, Tim considered moving, sure he was crushing Jason. He dismissed the thought from his mind. His guard (his lover) hadn’t ever shied away from complaining about inconveniences; he wouldn’t start now. Indeed, all Jason did once he had caught his breath was gently lift them both up and under the cover, Tim still half-way on top of him.

(And shielded from both the door and the balcony by Jason’s body, Tim noted with some amusement.)

“Think you can sleep now?” Jason asked gently.

“Hmm.” Tim cuddled closer. “I shouldn’t. There are things we should talk—” He interrupted himself with a yawn.

A heavy arm wrapped around his waist. It felt good. Safe. “Sleep for a bit, and I will wake you up early.”

Tim wanted to nod, but before he knew it, sleep had claimed him.

When he woke up the next morning to Jason’s gentle shaking, they were still closely entwined. The dim grey light filtering through the curtains told him that Jason had kept his word. It was still early. No need to hurry.

Jason gave him another minute to wake up, then he gently tilted Tim’s head up to kiss him good morning. Tim was sure that he couldn’t taste good and he felt distinctly sticky where they had failed to clean up last night.

Jason didn’t seem to care; his kiss was gentle and light and loving. When he pulled away, he whispered: “I would say we spend an appropriately romantic morning after together, but knowing you, you have questions to ask and plans to make.”

Tim snorted in a most unprincely way. “As if you don’t.” Jason was spontaneous, sure, but he liked being in control of the circumstances in the exact same way Tim did.

Jason grinned at him. “Of course. You want to start with the questions?”

“What will your… group say?” Tim settled down Jason’s chest again, resting his right arm on it and hooking his chin over his wrist to look at him.

“‘Congratulations.’” Jason smiled. “I’ve been here for three years, Tim. The writing has been on the wall. The worst that could happen is that they’ll insist on showing up for the wedding.”

“I’d like that,” Tim told him, and Jason dropped a kiss on his forehead.

“There won’t be any interference with this court. There hasn’t been for years.” He paused. “I cannot and will not promise the same for the Court of Snake’s Head.”

“I’m shocked.”

To be fair, neither could Tim about the Midnight forces. He suspected the reason behind Bruce sending Dick to infiltrate Jason’s group of Outlaws was to prepare for exactly that. A possible joint manoeuvre, so to speak.

As if Jason sensed the direction his thoughts had taken, he asked: “And your father?”

“Gave us his blessing.” Tim grimaced, thinking of the smile on Bruce’s face. “His encouragement, even.”

Gratifyingly, Jason looked surprised at that, too. Then he turned thoughtful. “Huh. I knew he was letting me off the hook—but that sounds like he is considering an alliance.”

Tim raised his eyebrow at him. “Are you saying my father might have other motives besides my personal happiness?”

Jason raised his right back. “Are you saying your father doesn’t have three motives for everything he does and loves killing two birds with one stone?”

“He does—”

“Also, I got a letter from my best friend telling me about this pretty young man that recently tried to join our group. Funnily enough, his description sounded a lot like a certain brother of yours. Now I’m sure that’s a coincidence?”

So Dick had gone to join the outlaws, not fight them. Tim loved being right. “How is he?”

“I assume well, seeing how he has managed to join said best friend and his wife in their bed.” Jason laughed at Tim’s grimace. “I was trying to think of a way of telling your father that his son is fine and only blew his cover to me by apparently being pretty enough to warrant a detailed description.”

“How about we don’t.”

“And to think, the detailed description was probably Roy’s revenge for chewing his ear off about you.”

“Then we should definitely invite them to the wedding—which the Crown Prince will be expected to attend. See how Dick explains that.”

Jason laughed and Tim felt his smile soften. He thought that Jason would likely always feel some loyalty to the group that had sent him and the mission he so obviously believed in. He also believed that the two of them, together, had a found a middle ground where they could handle that.

Now that they had been so open with their bodies, it felt natural to let the words follow.

There was a reason they were discussing this now, however. Bruce was likely impatiently waiting for an answer. Tim needed to stay on topic.

“What do you want? I realize that this,” Tim made a sweeping gesture that seemed to include all the trappings of royalty, “isn’t what you signed up for.”

Jason had the gall to roll his eyes a that. “Not to press the point too much, but what I signed up for was a suicide mission.”

Tim pinched him.

“Ow. It would be weird seeing someone else follow you around,” Jason admitted. “I like protecting you. I don’t think I can pass that on to someone else that easily… that’s probably not an appropriate occupation for a husband, is it, though?”

Tim considered that. “I would not like anyone else around, either. However, I don’t see the need for it. As long as we’re together, I’m sure even Bruce would agree we won’t need anyone else. With some extra guards for official functions and for when one of us is gone.”

He laughed at the expression on Jason’s face. Clearly he hadn’t thought about the fact that as the spouse of a prince, he would become a target, too.

Just to poke the bear a bit more, Tim added: “You know Father will likely insist on bestowing you with at least a few titles.” Then he resolved into giggles, fueled by relief.

They could do this. Declaring their engagement would save the kingdom from a diplomatic slight to Bane—not to mention Tim from a loveless marriage—and help them on their way to a far more promising political alliance with the Outlaws. More importantly, Tim wouldn’t have to spend any more evenings wondering if Jason would be gone in the morning, returned to the mission he had never completely abandoned.

With a contented sigh, he slid his arm down to hug Jason closer, resting his face on the other’s shoulder instead. For some long minutes, they lay there, Jason’s hand rubbing gentle circles on Tim’s back.

Then the reality of what laid ahead returned.

“This week is going to be hellish,” Tim groaned into Jason’s neck.

“I don’t think it will be as much of a problem as you think. You’re barely in the public eye as it is. Marrying a commoner might cause a scandal, sure, but no more than the king adopting two.”

Jason’s voice was soothing; still, he wasn’t helping matters. “Everyone will have something to say about it, Jason. Everyone. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Can’t be worse than that one ball where Stephanie decided to annoy your admirer by asking you to every dance and I had to keep said admiring lady from killing her. Or that time you had to mediate between Ra’s and Damian. Or that time—”

“Alright, alright,” Tim laughed. “Still. Are you sure?”

Jason didn’t answer him directly. “Is that everything that’s on your mind?”

When Tim nodded, Jason gently pushed him off a bit and shifted over to where his discarded uniform jacket lay on the floor, twisting his upper body to take something out of an inner pocket.

When he turned back to Tim, a simple golden band rested in the middle of his palm.

For the first time this morning Tim was speechless. Somehow, for all their talk of getting married, he couldn’t fathom that he was being presented with a ring, in his bed, by Jason.

“I’ve been carrying this with me for months now, Tim. I started saving up years ago.” Jason’s voice was low, earnest. “I’ve watched you when you’re cranky in the morning and feverishly working at night. I know you work too much, worry too much, drink way too much coffee. I’ve seen the council meetings and dances and diplomatic travels. I know you think you’re responsible for everything and everyone— I love you for it. I know what I’m getting into and I want it. Want you,” he corrected himself. “So. Your Highness, Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne, Prince of Gotham, Fifth Duke of Otisburg, Lord Blackgate, Knight of the Narrows, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

Tim had to haul him in by hand on the back of his neck for that; had to kiss him breathless before he said: “Yes.”

Unsurprisingly the ring fit perfectly. Even more so, it looked right.

It took them a long time to separate again. Eventually, though, unwilling to be caught in bed, they rose, washing up and getting ready to face the day.

Too quickly, there was a knock on the door. Tim suspected that it to be Alfred, sent by his king, or maybe his father himself.

The outside world was calling for them.

Tim looked at Jason, who was trying to smooth the creases out of his uniform jacket with remarkably little success. Finally, he gave up and pulled it on, calling out “Yes?” as he moved to open the door.

Tim smiled. They would do just fine.

A/N: Bruce knew about the ring. He’s been watching these fools pine for years now.

#jaytim #batfam bingo 2019 #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #elareine writes #long post

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writingisbae · 6 years

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The little prince who liked dresses

(Here’s a short story / modern fairy tale that I wrote a long time ago)

Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of Summer, there lived a little prince by the name of Florian with his loving parents, King Brutus and Queen Marianne. When Florian was born, his father held him high and joyfully exclaimed: I have a son! The heir to the throne is born!" But not all was well. The birth was difficult, and having a child did not come without cost for the rulers of the Kingdom of Summer. The Queen survived, but became ill and weak for a long time, so that baby Florian was mostly cared for by a nurse.

When the prince was four years old, his father took Florian with him to teach him how to fight. He thrust a wooden sword into the little boy's hands and took a fighting stance across from him.

"Engage me", he ordered, but Florian was still looking at the beautifully painted sword in his hands. "Who made this sword, father?", the prince asked timidly. "One of the servants." He didn't seem to want to talk. He was charging at his son. Florian yelped in surprise as his father's wooden sword hit his chest so hard, he fell backwards onto the cold stone floor. "Don't cry, son." His father expected him to be strong. The boy tried to push back the tears, but a few still escaped. The king did not help him get up, or inquire whether he was hurt. Florian dried his cheeks, and awkwardly stood back up.

His father charged him again, and this time the little prince was ready. He held the sword in front of him, but the force of his father's sword hitting his made his arms hurt and caused him to stumble.

Later that night, when Isabelle, the nurse who was like a mother to him, put him to bed, Florian asked whether she knew who had painted the wooden sword that was now laying on top of his toy box. She smiled and told him that artists who came from a far-off land had gifted the toy swords to the King when they had crossed the kingdom many years ago. This made the little boy sad. "I was hoping whoever made it could show me how they did it", he whispered, knowing that this was something his father would not approve of. Isabelle looked at him, her kind brown eyes lingering on the prince's face.

"I could show you how to paint", she finally said with a smile. Florian sat up and stared at Isabelle, his mouth open wide. "You can paint? You would do that, for me? But what about the King?" The questions all came out at once, he was so excited. But Isabelle just took him by the hand and quietly led him to her own quarters. The room was small, but very skillfully decorated. The servant pointed at the huge painting which was hanging over the small bed. It showed a beautiful young woman's face, about as old as Isabelle, with long curly gold-blonde hair down to her waist, a royal night-gown and a crown much like Florian's. "Who is this?" The little prince stood there in awe, admiring his servant's work. He could see her cheeks reddening a little. "My friend Azurine. I had to leave her behind when I came here to work for the King and Queen of the Kingdom of Summer." The boy was grinning at Isabelle now. "Teach me. Teach me how to paint."

Three years later, Brutus was still trying teach his son how to fight. After swords had been a disaster, he had tried to get Florian interested in using a lance, but to no avail. The boy seemed distant, as if he was constantly thinking about something else. Now the King was going to give the prince a bow. He just hoped that for once the boy would pay attention to his teachings.

Brutus was heading towards his son's quarters, fetching him for his lessons, when he started to hear two distinct voices. One belonged to his son, and he seemed to be conversing with one of the servants. When Brutus stepped into the quarters, he saw the two of them sitting on the bed, laughing, and completely unaware of the King's presence.

The King couldn't believe his eyes at the scene in front of him. His only son was wearing a dress, while sewing another one! Brutus cleared his throat, and the two of them looked up at him, shock clear on their faces. Florian was the first of them to say a word. "Father! I didn't expect you so early. I... We were only..." "Enough!" The King didn't understand what had happened to his dear son. "You are a boy!", he shouted. "A boy should NEVER do a woman's chores." The little prince ducked his head in shame. "Yes, father", he said. "It will not happen again." "Now take off that ridiculous garment, you are embarrassing me! What if someone important had seen you like this?" That seemed to enrage the boy. "This dress is beautiful! Isabelle made it, and it is so good, it should be worn by royals. And she should earn a lot of gold for such skillful work!", he exclaimed. "YOU!" King Brutus lunged at Isabelle, who shrieked in fear. "Out of my palace! Who are you to put such ideas into my son's head! Go! Leave, before I have you executed!" Isabelle ran, screeching, and Florian stayed silent. He knew he was in big trouble, and the best thing to do was to not say anything that could further enrage the King.

After that, Florian tried to focus on the lesson his father wanted him to learn. He shot the bow at a target, and even became pretty good at it after some time, but he realized that his heart wasn't in it. Brutus hadn't let him keep the dress, and he didn't dare try to sew another one. Even the painting supplies that Isabelle had lent him had magically disappeared. As time went by, the little boy became sadder and sadder, and one day at dinner even his mother realized something was wrong. After the meal, she took her husband by the arm and voiced her concerns about their child. "We can't let it go on like this, Brutus", she said. "He is barely eating, and I could hear him sigh every two minutes." "It's because of the dress", the King knew.

Marianne hadn't heard anything of the incident, but as he explained to her what had happened, she became angrier and angrier with her husband. "Brutus! You can't forbid your only son to do what he enjoys! You are only making him sad! The poor boy might even run away if we are not careful." "But he is our only son! Marianne, dear, you know that you could not have any more children after Florian, he is our only chance at an heir!" "So?", the Queen retorted. "He can still be the heir to the throne, my love." She looked into her husband's eyes, seemingly begging him to see her point. "But a King? In a woman's dress?" Brutus just couldn't imagine the Kingdom of Summer being ruled by a man in a dress. "He will be laughed at! Nobody could take such a King seriously! No woman would want to marry him!" Marianne slowly shook her head. "Brutus, when you first saw me, did you care what clothing I wore?" "No, of course not! I was to marry you because it was my duty. But that's exactly my point. It's Florian's duty to..." "Who cares about duty!", the Queen yelled. It was the first time that she had raised her voice, and her husband seemed quite shocked. "You love me, Brutus. It doesn't matter whether it was your duty to marry me back then, but you came to love me. And I am sure you would still love me if I was wearing men's trousers right now." "But that's different", the King tried to defend himself. "How so?" Marianne smiled. She knew that she had won the argument. "He is our son, and we love him. If he wants to wear a dress and paint the moon black, so be it. He shall have whatever he wants. And the future will take care of itself, you'll see. I am not going to lose my only child." Her last words seemed to convince the King.

The next morning King Brutus and Queen Marianne delayed the important meeting they had planned, and visited the little prince in his quarters. Florian was already awake, sitting by the window, and staring out into the yard. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it?", the queen asked, as she stood behind him. Florian wondered what he had done this time, for both of his parents to take the time to see him in person. It almost never happened since they were so busy. "We have something for you." That didn't sound like punishment. The prince began to hope that his parents weren't mad at him for once.

His mother stepped to the side, revealing a beautiful dark red dress which, to his astonishment, the King was holding. It seemed to have been made just for him, as it looked to be his size, whereas the one that Isabelle had lent him to try on that one day had been a grown woman's dress. Florian was speechless. "We have decided", his father explained as he moved forward, carrying the pretty little dress, "that your happiness is what is most dear to us. So if you really wish to wear this" - he pointed at the garment, which he was holding at arm's length as if he were afraid it might bite him, "then you may have it."

Prince Florian stuttered a confused thank you and took the red gown. His parents left to let him change clothes in private. As he looked in the mirror wearing the lovely dress that fit him perfectly, he took a deep breath and smiled perhaps the biggest smile he had ever smiled. He carefully opened the door to step into the corridor where the King and Queen were waiting. And as Marianne began to clap enthusiastically, and even Brutus nodded as sign of approval, the little prince who liked dresses twirled and twirled and was happy that his parents finally accepted him just the way he was. And if you ever were to step foot into the palace of the Kingdom of Summer, you might just get a glimpse of that little boy gleefully twirling in one of the many dresses he went on to make, not only for him, but for many people in the entire Kingdom.

#writeblr #my writing #short story #writing

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amaterasu-mayu · 3 years

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The King of Valandi Chapter 1

こんにちは! (Hello!) You don't know who I am, but I am here to tell you a story. One of Pride and Loyalty. You see, there was this Kingdom. Valandi. Born to Queen Consort Basadena, and King Haakon X of Valandi, were twins. Gustaf, who'd later been known as King Haakon XI of Valandi, and Audiena. Who'd become Princess Aud Hakonardottir of Lade. A boy and a girl. The churchbells sang beautifully the day they entered the world. Growing up, the two were very close, and loved to play with each other. As well as only having each other. There parents were concerned with having an heir to the throne, rather than having children. It didn't matter how their children felt, what mattered was, "What was best for the Kingdom." Gustaf was decided to be the heir. Very unfortunate for him. From a young age, he was shown to be kind towards peasants and the lower class in general. Especially children. While on the way to a ceremony one day, he had to go through town. On the way back in the evening, he spotted two children his age, curled up into a ball. They looked like siblings. They sat there and hugging one another and sobbing softly. Their clothing was torn and dirty. And they looked like they hadn't eaten in weeks. They were also shivering. Considering the weather got pretty cold at night. Gustaf was the opposite. He had a tons of delicious, perfessionally made food, a large, beautiful, warm comfy palace, very comftorable but expensive clothing, and was constantly looked after. Meanwhile these two poor children had the exact opposite. While standing there baffled, he couldn't help but start to cry. It was almost as if he felt there pain. Not being poor, but being in constant mental pain due to being forced into a destiny he didn't choose. Nor did he enjoy. When he realized this, he decided to do something. He ran towards a woman speaking with somebody else about something. One of her arms had a basket full of bread, the other person was folding clothes. Gustaf ran up to them, and in the process, subconsciously forced his guards to run as well. "Ma'am, I demand that clothing, and those baguettes!" He ordered, trying to sound stern. The two women turned around towards him. They both curtised before speaking. "Of course, Your Higness." Then they handed him the baskets. "Okay, thanks!" Gustaf excalimed as he ran off to the children. The guards followed. When he ran to the children, he kneeled and panted. Exhausted from all the running. The two children became anxious he would harm or poke fun of them. But when he set the baskets down in front of them, and noticed his warm smile, they did the same. "Go on, you deserve it better than I do." He murmured before walking away with the guards following. When his parents found out about this, they were absolutely outraged. They weren't a big fan of peasants, and only gave them rights so they wouldn't riot. Starting that evening, they taught there son to hate them. To hate them more than they do. He obliged, perhaps more than he should.

One day, while playing in the garden with his sister Audiena, their mother, Basadena put her hand on Audiena's shoulder. Their father, Haakon, did the same to Gustaf. "Audiena, Gustaf is going away." Basadena said, cold and emotionalessly. Both children's eyes widened. "But, mom, were-" "Gustaf, listen to your mother." Haakon muttered to Gustaf. The two children suddenly heard loud foosteps. Like a carriage. They both look, and there a carriage was. They looked at it for a second, before realizing what was about to happen. Gustaf and Audiena jumped into each-others arm's and held onto each other as tightly as they could. Haakon whistled and a few guards came and pulled hard onto the twins until they were apart. "Audiena!" "Gustaf!" They cried, reahing their arms out as far as they could. Unfortunately, Audiena was forced away from her brother and pinned tightly. She could only watch and cry as her brother sobbed and physically fought with the guard to be let go. But a full grown adult was much stronger than a 8-year old boy. Gustaf was soon forced and locked into a carriage, before being driven away. That, would be the last time Audiena saw her brother. And the last time Gustaf saw her. What happened Gustaf you may ask? Well, let's just say, he was put under some form of, "Training" by his parents in order to, "Be a successful ruler"

Years later, when Gustaf was 13, his mother had fallen pregnant. It was considered a miracle given her age. She and Haakon were more esctatic than ever to have another child. As well as the whole Kingdom. But, there were few in the palace who weren't thrilled. The wife of an Earl, Lady Mizukashi, and an adopted daughter of the Samurai, Lady Trieu. Mizukashi was resentful towards the King and Queen after an incident. One evening, the two were sitting infront a kneeling Gustaf. "How dare you do such a thing!" Haakon shouted. "You will marry whoever I wish you to!" Gustaf couldn't do much but frown. "I wasn't courting her father. She was only my friend." Gustaf said softly. Apparently, he was caught sneaking out of his room at night, and hanging out with the child of a maid. The child was that of the King's most trusted minister. Miru. Suddenly, Gustaf felt his face being grabbed and forced upward towards the King. "You, gave her a rose, and kissed her hand, knowing damn well, both gestures are romantic." "I was only trying to be a gentleman-" "Sire, what seems to be the problem?" The three turned towards the doorway, where Miru was standing. Confidently and proudly. As if she felt the situation was under her control. "Miru, my son was caught courting your daughter." Miru's eyes widened. "R-really? N-no...It's not true..." The King sighed. "I'm sorry, but it is. I apologize on my son's behalf." The King began to glare at Gustaf again. "Since he refuses to admit to doing anything wrong." Gustaf gasped at the way his father hissed out the sentence. "Apologize? For doing something wrong? Don't be upset, I'm delighted that he would love my daughter!" The King stood up from his seat and faced Miru. "I'm glad you see it that way, but, you and your daughter are not royalty, therefore, marriage between the two is forbiden." Miru became stunned. "Sire, I am a minister. Though I'm not royal, me and my daughter meet the standards-" "Do not argue with me young lady! I'd hate to have send my precious friend to the gallows." He muttered out the last part. Miru was infruated by the insult. She was used to him having a big ego, but he had never insulted even wealthy before. "I'm afraid I'll have to argue Sire." The King's gaze became hateful. He looked as Miru as if she were not even human. But rather a Thing. Miru was never phased by his intimidation, so she kept her stern look. "Just because you are royal doesn't mean your more important or better than me!" she yelled. Clenching her fists. The King looked towards the guards. "I've had enough of your babbling barbarian! Guards, she is to be hanged by tomorrow." Miru was blown away as soldiers came and dragged her out. She was fearful, not because she was going to die. But about what would happen to her daughter. But fear was the last thing she ever wanted to show the King. She kept her composure and pride until she was thrown into the dungeon.

Mizukashi was devastated to learn her friend was executed, and began to resent the King and Queen. She, along with Lady Trieu, and three Maids of honor, Kyoto, Kitakyushu, and Asahikawa, devised a plan, upon learning of Basadena's pregnancy. That night, Basadena became terribly famished, and requested a lot of food. When the list was given to chef, the 5 looked it over, and decided to put something in the strawberry pie. Shortly after it was baked and laid to cool down, Mizukashi placed paint remover inside it. And the next day, Basadena's body was found lying at the dinner table, her face in the pie. And later, Haakon's body was found, with a sword sticking out of his chest.

As the choir sang beautifully, Gustaf slowly sat on the large throne. Across from a buddhist priest. Who shortly placed a diamond and purple crown on his head, before handing him a gold and purple scepter, with a violet gem on top. "I crown him, King Haakon XI of Valandi." he said, before the nearby crowd cheered and clapped. 15 year-old Gustaf had just ascended the throne. He was now King of Valandi. Shortly after the ceremony a ball was held to celebrate. During the ceremony, most of the servants and maids couldn't attend. They were rushing cleaning and decorating. Afraid something would happen if the King wasn't pleased with the appearance of the room. By the time the ceremony of the cornoation had finnished, the King was on his way to the broom the ball was to be held in. Once he walked in, the maids and servants believed they had prepared the room properly. Despite the time that was running out. However, their exhaustation prevented them from witnessing particular spot of dust on the floor. As soon as Gustaf spotted it, he became outraged. He walked towards and looked down at it. He looked around the room, and spotted one of his swordswomen. "Lady Trieu!" he shouted. Causing all the activity in the room to stop. Everyone looked at him with a nervous expression. Trieu approached him and curtsied. "Your Highness, what's wrong?" Gustaf smiled with fake amusement and gritted his teeth. "What is this?" he mumbled. Trieu looked towards the ground at the spot. "Ah, looks like the staff missed a spot. That's all." She said, smiling. Hoping it and her tone would turn his mood around. But it didn't. Gustaf stompted his foot and stood stiff. "Asahikawa! Get over here!" the volume of his voice was just below that of screaming. Almost immediately after shouting those words, one of his Maid's of Honor dashed up to him before bowing rapidly. "Your Highness, what's wrong?" Gustaf furiously spun around towards her. "I instructed the maids to have this area spotless by tonight!" Asahikawa became puzzled. Kyoto, his other Maid of Honor had previously specified the room was spotless before the King had arrived. She glanced around the room. Attempting to figure out what he was talking about. For a few minutes. Gustaf impaitiently crossed his arms and tapped his foot repeatedly. Before finally speaking in a tone that startled her. "Asahikawa, have you lost your vision?!" Asahikawa anxiously curtsied. "I apologize from the bottom of my heart Your Highness. I can't seem to spot what your talking about." Gustaf pointed towards the spot once again. Asahikawa barely noticed it. "Oh. It's just a little dust bunny, no big-" "Dust bunny?! Oh my dear, that is disgusting! Why would Kyoto hire such a swine and filthy staff?!" Gustaf cut her off. He jumped away from the spot. He spun around the towards the exit. Causing his train to spin gracefully. As he shoved the doors open, he shouted once more, "Kyoto! Get over here or off with your head!" The doors slammed shut. And loud storming foosteps could be heard going down the hall.

After some time, Gustaf came back with Kyoto and Valandi's Cheif Executive. Gustaf walked into the center of the room, much more calm and pleased than earlier. Everyone including his Maids of Honor wondered how he calmed down so quickly. It had only been 30 minutes since he stormed out. Gustaf took the silence as the opportunity to make his announcement. He looked over at his 10 maids, and 3 servants that cleaned and organized the room. "I signed the Chief Executive's document." His Maids of Honor gulped simultaneously. "That document was a death warrant." He said, with a sinister smile. Everyone in the room looked absolutely baffled. The maids and servants quickly fell to their knees and begged for their life. Their cries were met with a chuckle from the King. "Oh well. You all should've done your job. Now, off you go to the gallows." The guards came in and dragged them all out. While they were kicking, screaming and crying. Asahikawa and Kitakyushu approached a startled Kyoto. "Kyoto!" "Huh?!" "You didn't try to stop him?!" Kyoto looked at the King. Who was visciously grining at her. "Is there a problem?" All three of them nervoulsy shook their heads. "No, Your Highness there isn't-" "You sure? You all look troubled." As Gustaf went and took a sword from a guard, before slowly walking up to the three. All three of the ladie's hearts were beating out of their chests. "Y-Your Highness!" "I-it's nothing!" "We swear!" "Yeah! Don't behea-" "Ahahahaha!" Gustaf suddenly bursted out laughing. So hard he was crying. He dropped the sword and held onto his stomach. "I'm just kidding! I wouldn't dare harm any of you!" The three sighed, and wiped their sweat covered faces and palms. Only for Gustaf to lean towards them and mutter, "Unless you make me...Heheheahaha...!"

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libraryprisoner · 7 years

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The Shadow Brother (Jonsa fanfic)

Hey this is my first Jonsa fanfic and my first posted on tumblr. I’m not a native english speaker, so I hope you are not to harsh on my grammar, I tried my best. Anyways, I would love to see some comments from you.

The Shadow brother

Sansa doesn’t look at Jon when she is walking the path through the Godswood towards the Weirwoodtree, and towards him. She’s done this walk before, a thousand times in her mind last night, and once for real ages ago. The exact same walk, the exact same steps, nothing has changed, she thinks, and it’s almost comical because she knows it’s not true. Everything has changed. But she can’t make herself notice that it’s not the same groom. She only sees a looming shadow, if it’s Ramsay or Jon, it doesn’t really matter either way. Whoever waits for her in the Godswood, is far from what she thought her life would be. Sansa is angry with herself, because she still knows the childish dreams she once had by heart, despite her efforts to make herself forget everything. She thinks herself stupid and pathetic, because she’s unable to forget them. Remembering is a weakness she can’t indulge anymore. This tender spot in her soul is a flaw she can’t allow to herself. Especially after she had worked so hard to shut the door on everything tender, but obviously she failed to coat her heart with ice, at least not all the way through. She worked on being bitter, on being aloof, ripped the feelings out of her soul, as soon as they appeared, but there is no use to it now. There is a fluttering sensation just under her left breast and she can’t swallow it down. No matter how fierce she became, how much of the long winter lingers inside her, how strong she is, how much of a ruler she is, no matter how much she sacrifice to turn herself into this shell, this form she thought would serve her best in this world, she can’t disguise the small tremor in her hands. Walking through the snow, at the end of all wars, in a time for hope and happiness, towards him, it frightens her to death, that she still hasn’t changed enough.

Sansa still muses over romance, over the dream of it, the vision of it, things she only knows out of the songs she used to love. Princes and noble men, why is hope so hard to let go ? For a moment she pities herself while walking slowly towards her newly found out cousin, such a strange feeling, such a strange man. No not strange, it’s an ugly feeling, she realizes, born of vanity and sorrow. She has no right to pity herself, she wishes she could slap herself, make herself wake up out of this illusion, that possesses her against her will. Imaginations like that are hard to kill, she realizes. It’s her third wedding for political reasons and she still wishes for the one of love. She smiles bitter on her stupidity but doesn’t look up, afraid he could confuse it with something else.

Every step of the ceremony is known and familiar to her, she knows what to say, how to move, what to expect, hand cloaking her, brutal hands cloaking her, tiny hands cloaking her. All this she had done before.

Jon’s touch does surprise her though. He closes his fist around her hand as soon as she comes to a halt beside him. A gloved touch, but still warm and soft, and equally shaky. Then the words start to flow through the air, the night sky heavy with promising snow and piercing cold, and he grips her hard of the sudden. Sansa has to press back with strength to avoid him crushing her fingers. It’s a desperate gesture and she dares not to look at him. She feels the tremors run though him, up and down his arm, right into his hand up to his stony fingers, like a call, like some kind of communication. All she can do is hold on as fiercely as he does. Her hand hurts, but it’s not because of him. She feels how her own joints are straining with the force from holding on, matching his force for some reason. Something is welling up in her chest, something like a silent scream, hot and burning under her throat. It’s the thing what started as a flutter earlier, she thinks, suddenly afraid she might burn up, or freeze in motion at the same time. The more she fights it, the less she can control it. She fails to understand how a gesture of kindness and calming can make them both feel so lost, and lost they are, that much she understands. It’s a goodbye, a farewell to everything they should have been, but couldn’t, to one another at the brink of yet another change, she thinks. The moment when young dreams are burned and buried forever is finally here, and it came to quickly. It’s a bitter realization that the only ones they could turn to in this, for help, for comfort, are still just each other. It should have been different for him, for her. After learning so much, about his heritage, it’s hard not to dream about the life that could have been, but wasn’t. He could have been happier than he was, could have married someone he loved and make a claim on the throne. She could have been happier too, only when time could have been turned back, the dead could be alive again, and the family back together, without the lies and secrets. It’s the knowledge of this possibility that angers her now, the knowledge of the betrayal, of the lies that turned all their fates. It’s also fear, the fear of losing the only anchor she has left, once the wedding night would dawn on them. For all the things he doesn’t know, she knows with bitter certainty, that this is the end of them.

She wonders why this is still a concern to her, after all she’d experienced, but then she never learned how to have positive feelings for someone she is about to marry, how could she know different. She expects things to change fast, beyond any recognition, she expects distance where there wasn’t any before, as husband and wife there always is. She knows of the things she gives up marrying him, him of all people and she hates him for it, hates him for agreeing, hates herself for it, too.

When she realizes the stretch of a dutiful but lonely life before her, something inside her, under her ribcage, revolts against the containment of this prison. This time, it’s nor a flutter or a scream. She has to make an effort to keep herself upright, while this breath robbing thing rages through her body, makes her cold and sweaty and dizzy and nauseous and panic.

That’s when she loses her strength and the full force of Jon’s crashing grip hits her. But there is no pain. She gives up then, let’s everything happen as it should be, she speaks the words, turns and moves, feels his touch leaving her, feels the heavy weight he’s put on her shoulders and turns again, this time under a warriors touch. His hand doesn’t find her again, but she feels it trembling at his side, at her side, just in between the space where the wiry hairs stand up erect at its scared and rough back. When did he discard the gloves? It’s a strange feeling, ticklish even, mixed with a prominent heat that radiates of him in abandonment. She looks down like she is drowning and then up at his profile. His face strained, hard, fighting for control, a control over his life he lost so long ago, just like herself. Sansa could have wept then and there. Faces filling her mind like a flood, faces lost and buried, and she despises herself for letting it happen. It takes just one shaky, uncontrolled brush of his skin and she is the one taking initiative. Feeling him jump a little, and seeing is eyes diverting to her, first in a quick glance, and then slowly, really seeing her for the first time. This time she doesn’t press and crush his fingers, this time she strokes upon those hairs in a calming and gentle motion, making this right, making it as it should be.

The kiss is chaste, the wedding night is too. Like her father he allowed no bedding ceremony. His father’s son, she thinks out of habit, but freezes as the feelings of wrong and right invade her once more. She kills the smile on her face instantly.

At night Sansa lies awake, and she believes he does too, at least the first couple of nights. She is disappointed that she can’t converse with him anymore, but she expected it. They lie in silence, her tongue so thick in her mouth and the words she forms in her head so little of a comfort, that she is struck mute.

It’s the icy cold of this winter that brings them closer, without any words. She finds herself rolled near his broad back in the middle of the night, opens her eyes because the strange atmosphere of warmth in front of her. She stares blindly at his form in the dark, the fetal position she is in providing no comfort anymore. When Sansa untangles her fingers from the death grip her fists are in, hears his breathing, feels it through the mattress and doesn’t want to wake him. She can’t remember the dream she had, but she is cold nonetheless and her hands hurt when she unclenches them. It’s like waking in thick mist, foul smelling, the odor of the dream lingers but it doesn’t smell like anything she could point her finger on. Maybe it was of Ramsay, maybe of her father’s death, maybe it was something entirely different. Right now Sansa doesn’t care, inches closer to him, not breaking her pose, but settling, curved up like she is in the small of his back, her temple barely touching his skin. She only allows herself this because it’s the haze between waking and sleeping, he wouldn’t even know, and she would make herself forget. She’s like a cat, she thinks warmly, and it’s the last thing she is aware of, she drifts of instantly again, strangely calmed by the rhythm of Jon’s breathing.

She is more like a cow, she thinks a couple of nights later, when she awakes soaked in sweat, shaking and crying. Her fists are balled so hard, that she feels her short nails dig into her flesh, and she knows that she has drawn blood, not matter how short she clips them. Her body is rigid, her shift clammy, her knees drawn up so high under her chin, that her back aches and then there is this coldness. It settles inside her and makes her freeze and shake and chatter her teeth without any control over it. She tries to breathe but fails miserably, her hammering heart numbing all other sound. Panic robs her voice the moment she is aware of him. It robs every thought and movement too, and she can’t fight it no longer.

It’s just when the blood stops ringing in her ears that she feels Jon’s grip on both of her wrists. He is holding them apart but close to her chest, has spooned around her from behind in a mimic of her fetal position and crushes her to him. He doesn’t speak, but she feels his breathing heavy and quick, feels that she is starting to cry, feels the wetness soaking her hair, smudging on his arm, feels ashamed.

He doesn’t let go until she is stops struggling, holds her in this tight embrace until she has calmed down, just like cattle in a queeze chute. An eternity later she fights her numb hands free of his grip without any resistance. Once she has moved, a hand of his comes up to brush the hair out of her face, the other slips between both her hands again, and she grips it with both of hers. She draws it under her chin, towards her chest by instinct, feels his arm flex beneath her head and his beard scratch her shoulder. It doesn’t matter, she thinks dizzily, his fingers in her hair, his palm in both her hands, like for prayer, a soft kiss behind her ear, and his whole body shielding her.

It’s through those moments in the night, that she realizes that she doesn’t know him at all. That she had been blind to him from the start, from her start in this world. She tries not to blame her dear mother, holding Catelyn’s memory so dear, that it feels like a betrayal, when Sansa comes to the conclusion that her mother wasn’t perfect. That she doesn’t know this man that shares her bed as a brother at all. She still remembers Robb’s first fight with a training sword, Brans favorite place to climb, Rickon’s favorite deserts and Arya’s favorite prank on her, does know their features by heart, the color of their hair, eyes, every mold and freckle in their face, the way each one of them walked and moved and smelled and talked and laughed and cried.

She never knew any of this of Jon, not until she looked at him in the cold light of day, after another night they fought each other through.

Now she knows, how he tosses endlessly until he falls asleep, but then sleeps deep, mostly dreamless, but alert to sound, sounds mostly coming from her.

Now she knows how the smell of him calms her when he embraces her, how his breathing is a lullaby and his warmth becomes essential to fight her inner cold. She knows the feel of his hand, the crisp hairs at the back of it, the calloused palms and every scar that has been woven in there. She knows the outline of his back in the night, knows the roughness of his beard and the softness of his hair. Knows, that he gathers her in without hesitation after another horrid nightmare, knows that he has nightmares on his own sometimes, knows how to calm him, when he tries to fight yet another shadow at his back.

By time she knows the scars on his chest, the color of his eyes when his face is so close that her vision blurs, the way he moves, kisses, sighs. She thinks his favorite color must be black, but one day he tells her it’s copper.

Yet, Sansa is right with her fears. Things change fast after they were wed. There is not much laughter and light conversation, not like before. How could there be, after all the great war took from them, after all what those years since they first left Winterfell, took from them?

Still it is hard to realize that she lost yet another brother, even after the war, even after she thought she had nobody more to lose, a brother she never really had, one she never knew.

Sometimes she remembers Jon sulking in the corner, while she played with Arya, Bran and Rickon, watching her with amusement when Arya pulled her hairs and teased her with another dirty snowball thrown at her nice gown. Or she remembers him with one of those rare smirks on his face, mostly when he was training with Robb. But then things seem different suddenly and she also remembers his dark gaze following her step by step, when she crossed the lawn with her mother at her side.

She griefs for the boy in the corner, in the shadows, the boy that was her brother, but was not. And then she stops, without realizing it at first.

She stops when the nightmares subside for good, stops after he still holds her at night without them, after she refuses to call him Aegon, after their memories of each other start with that day on Castle Black, the day of their reunion. She stops after she knows everything there was to know about him, after she calls him husband for real, after he holds her in passion for the first time. Day by day, she stops thinking about this shadow he was to her childhood, every day a bit more. And the last time she thinks about her shadow brother is when she gives birth to a boy who’s hair is his father’s favorite color.

Yet Sansa, after years and years doesn’t allow herself to think that this change was a good thing. She has too much respect of her parents and her lost siblings, too much fear to admit that their deaths were necessary so she could be that happy. And happy she is, as much as she still can be, after everything. And she finds it a waste to think of her life otherwise and muse over the things that could have been. She knows it's unfair but that is the curse of a survivors Jon says one day. They carry the dead with them, along with the cruelty and bloodshed. They will always have a heavier burden than the generation to come. Sansa knows that this is true, but she still feels guilty to trade one family for another.

But in the end, she overcomes even that somehow and the guilt transforms in a deep remembering with little remorse when she looks at her children and her husband. It's life after all, it's not fair but it's what they have, what they built and she couldn't be more grateful. Even for the worst times in her life, even for the torture and the shame and the pain, because she knows that healing came from the most unexpected place and person. And what would they have been without it? Only the gods would have known what would have become of her and her shadow brother. And that is the last real thing that frightens her deeply.

So she turns to him and pushes the thought aside , keeps it locked up in her mind for another time to worry about. She lets his arms come around her like a million times before, feels his heart strong beneath her palm, finally content if this would be the end of her, and him and their song , without further ambition, glittering dreams and false illusions, just…. Finally…… home.

#jonsa fanfiction #jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon snow #Sansa Stark #Jon x Sansa #got #game of thrones #actually jonsa

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sl-walker · 7 years

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@shadowmaat: Something from GoT:A I’ve been picking at. Figured I’d share it. XD Timeline is during the Acendency Contention.

His mother found him sitting on the commons balcony, contemplating the colors of sunset against the mountains.

Queen Mazicia Organa, now; as per tradition, House Organa would officially move into the palace, and the estate would be maintained in perpetuity until such time as the crown passed to another noble family. Then they would return.

Nothing would strictly stop them coming back to the estate to stay here or there in the meantime, and Bail thought likely his father would spend most of his time here, but it was still quite an upheaval. Even if it was expected and planned for.

All of this was.

"You would think that you had been sentenced to death, rather than the future position of Viceroy," she observed, stepping over and drawing her weathered fingers through his hair, as she had done all his life.

Bail tipped his head back to look at her; he favored his father's coloring and build, but at his heart, he was his mother's child. He understood why House Organa had maneuvered to take the monarchy; power could be used to great good or terrible evil, but to use it at all, one had to have it. Alderaan as a world was peaceful, beautiful and politically quite honorable; a Queen could not only safeguard that, but plan for its continued future. And it was not a case where other bloodlines weren't involved; ever since the civil war, the Queen was the ruler. Sometimes that would be an Organa by blood, but just as often that would be whoever married into the family, too; it helped keep other Houses in the loop and therefore less contentious.

When Bail's mother died or stepped down, it would be Breha Antilles, who would be Bail's wife by then.

"I'm all right," Bail answered, forcing a smile more for her benefit than his own, before going back to watching mountains. "Just-- processing."

And worrying. Because Bail had been raised his whole life to aspire and serve both; to acquire power enough to then use it in service to this House, this world, this system, this Republic. Marriage to further that had always been in his cards. He was honestly surprised that he had gotten to stay a bachelor this long, though when he really thought about it, he could see where his mother may well have seen this coming from some time back and just waited until she could make the best possible match.

Bail had been raised to do this.

Maul had not.

He didn't get possessive or mean about it; had not turned to jealousy or temper. Instead, Bail's lover had somewhat darted back into the shell he'd been in when he arrived here years ago; had gotten quiet and withdrawn and distracted. He still slept with Bail every night, but he was restless in bed and woke up more than once from nightmares. When they were holding each other, Maul held on tighter than usual; when they kissed, there was a sense of desperation now that there hadn't been.

Bail was going to meet the woman he was supposed to be marrying tomorrow -- formally, as he remembered running into her occasionally when they were much younger -- and yet, all he could do was worry that this might ruin the life of someone he loved.

Not very service-minded of him. But it was hard to be, when he could remember the way Maul held onto him like he might turn to smoke and drift away forever.

His mother didn't say anything for a long time; she just stroked his hair, both affectionate and soothing. When she did speak, it was considered. "I couldn't have picked better for you, in terms of a wife. I think you'll find her understanding, if not forgiving, should you decide to tell her about your affair with Maul."

It took several seconds more than it should have for that to properly sink in; when it did, it felt like Bail's entire circulatory system had been flooded with ice water. He froze, looking back up at his mother, and he didn't even have it in him to deny it. When she just looked back at him, mild as a fine summer day, he managed to choke out, "How long have you known?"

"That you two have been together? Since your sisters all asked me within the same day -- independently -- if you were seeing anyone, and I saw that the way you looked at him had changed. I was young once, dear-heart." Bail's mother quirked an eyebrow at him. "Unless you're asking how long I've known that he was in love with you, in which case the answer is since he was eighteen and had a hard time looking at anyone else anytime you happened to be in the room."

Bail's mouth worked without any thought attached to it, as he gaped. When he did manage to say something, it was breathless. "I didn't know until he kissed me." Two years?! he thought, knocked on his rear.

"I wasn't sure if he would ever work up the nerve to do something about it." She shrugged, then went back to stroking Bail's hair. "He was beautiful and artless in his innocence; scandalous or not, I wasn't going to be the one to destroy that. Your father never noticed, of course. Your sisters might have had inkling, but I think they mistook it as more-- platonic adoration."

Given that his world's foundations had been rocked repeatedly over to past couple of months, Bail probably could have been forgiven for his continued gaping. He blinked once or twice more, then looked back out over the mountains, now colored in twilight, the last of the sun's light gone. His mother had known for the past two years that they were together. Kriff, she knew how Maul felt two years before Bail did!

Bail tried, half-heartedly, to scramble and figure out where he had given it all away, where he had been that obvious, but he gave that up within short order.

"I don't know how to do this," he finally admitted, throat tightening. "How to-- get this to work out so no one gets hurt."

"I wish I knew what to tell you." His mother moved, finally, to sit on the other bench, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "I'm not going to ask this engagement be broken. Breha will be a good queen, when it comes her time to rule. She was teaching in the Outer Rim before she was called home; she isn't afraid of getting her hands dirty, which is no small thing. I think that if you approach her honestly and with an open heart, you'll work this out."

Bail couldn't imagine doing so; he was by no means the first man to be arranged into a marriage while already having a lover, but it was definitely scandalous for the fact that he and Maul were of the same house. And there were still older elements on Alderaan who had a xenophobia problem, which could compound it, if word became common knowledge. The thought of just coming clean to Breha Antilles meant taking an extraordinary leap of faith on a woman he didn't know, and more, putting his lover's reputation at risk.

But the alternatives were no better. Even if their relationship had been conducted in private, it had never been treated as shameful, and Bail didn't want to start treating it that way now. The effect that would have on Maul would be devastating; he didn't need to try it to know that.

"Okay," Bail breathed out, rubbing over his face, ignoring the faint tremor in his hand. "I guess I better go talk this over with him."

His mother nodded, giving him a soft sort of smile. "Good idea. And good luck."

#bail #mazi #game of thrones: alderaan

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marvelandponder · 7 years

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It’s a Curious Thing

Originally, I was going to talk about both Cadance and Shining Armour together today. Then, my friend @beach-city-mystery-girl suggested they should each get their own days. After all, none of the other princesses have to share a day, and we don’t want to only focus on their relationship. Seemed fair to me!

And in hindsight, I’m very grateful for the suggestion because it lets me take a look at two characters that fans might think are, well, non-characters and reveal the awesomeness that’s really going on.

The Princess of Love here is a little more than meets the eye. She’s not a transformer, but now that you put that in my head I want her to be.

This topic was originally going to cover what we saw in A Canterlot Wedding mostly, that big surge of love magic that blew the changelings away Team Rocket style. While we totally will bring up one or two things Shining and Cadance have done together, the more I thought about this topic with Cadance specifically, the cooler it became.

So, sit back on this the loveliest day of the year and let’s show some love for the Princess of Love. Because here’s the thing: Cadance might actually not need her husband to use the power of love (if I say “love” one more time this paragraph, and yes that counts, I get a free sub sandwich!).

Oh, and I should say this before we start, technically the official spelling is “Cadance” instead of “Cadence,” so before you tell me I’m wrong, go write Hasbro and tell them to fix it.

Superhero Princess Origin Story

Let’s start with her backstory, because when you think about it, she became the Princess of Love before she even met Shining Armour. So, what does that mean for the love magic she uses?

Twilight Sparkle and the Crystal Heart Spell is the book that tells Cadance’s backstory. I couldn’t get my hands on a copy for myself, but thanks to the wiki, I didn’t have a problem finding what I was looking for:

“The book tells the story of Twilight Sparkle after she'd been made an Alicorn and seeks advice on being a princess. She turns to Cadance, who tells her life story, how as a baby Pegasus she was found in the woods by Earth ponies, who took her to their village.

When she grew up she reversed a love-stealing spell cast by a pony called Prismia. Prismia wore a magic-enhancing necklace that amplified her evil and jealousy, but when Cadance confronted her, the necklace amplified Cadance's love. Once Prismia changed her horrible ways, Cadance was surrounded by magical energy and transported to a strange place where she met Celestia, who adopted her as her royal niece.” (x)

So, this gets me thinking.

When Twilight became an alicorn, Celestia told Twilight she’d created new magic thanks to the good, ol’ power of friendship and all the lessons she’s learned about it.

Which would make Cadance’s ascension to alicornhood comparable to Twilight’s: they both used friendship and love magic respectively in combination with a preexisting spell (or amulet) to make something new. And next thing you know, they’re alicorns!

But therein lies my point. Even though they might be using different magic, they’re comparable.

Which leads me to wonder if they’re using different magic at all.

Two years back, The Brony Notion did a theory video on how the four different princesses of Equestria represent different kinds of love. In that video, he uses the four different Greek words for love, Phila (friendship or brotherly love), Eros (romantic or passionate love), Agape (unconditional, non-sexual love, sometimes Godly), and Storge (familial love) to explain how each princess fits into that theory, but I think for our purposes we’ll keep it even simpler.

Because there’s something all of these characters represent: Harmony.

Ever-Lovin’ Harmony

So, we all know how this world works. There are at least two powerful, magical forces that act through “bearers” or “spirits,” which can be anyone from average everyday schmoes to immortal princesses to... well, Discord.

Whoever best represents the thing or an important aspect of the thing, gets the honour/burden. Hooray, I think?

First off, we should probably ask whether Love would qualify as an offshoot of Harmony, or whether it’s something else entirely like Chaos. I mean, is Harmony necessarily the same thing the power of Friendship in this world?

It makes sense to me that Love is another kind of Harmony. Even just semantically: you don’t have to have a specific sort of relationship with someone to be harmonious with them. You can be friends, family, lovers, you name it! Harmony just means to be in accord with someone, basically just to get along.

Now, it doesn’t have to be this way, Harmony could only be Friendship in terms of this fictional universe, but if that were the case, they would probably be the Elements of Friendship, instead of having one Element, Magic, that Twilight interprets as the Element of Friendship in the first episode.

So, yes. Friendship is Magic, but Magic isn’t Necessarily Friendship. Magic is also Romantic Love, and maybe more!

The reason I say this is because I think Luna and Celestia represented Family or Familial Love when they bore the Elements.

I mean, they could’ve represented Friendship, too, you can be friends with your sister, but it makes sense, doesn’t it? When Celestia used the elements alone to send Nightmare Moon to the moon, for example, I don’t think she was thinking about her sister as friend. I think it was their sisterly bond that made that possible.

And here’s how that info-graphic would look with Romantic Love put in:

Missing someone?

I’m... not entirely sure.

Because, okay, it feels like Shining Armour should be necessary to some degree for romantic love. Romance requires more than one participant. But at the same time, Cadance is able to use Love Magic on her own, and it is Love Magic, not mind control.

Well, I mean, as far as we can tell, we’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Hooray for free will!

My point being, she can channel the Power of Love on her own, and now that we’re talking about it, Shining Armour has never been referred to as the Prince of Love. Maybe in his dreams.

Which would be totally comparable to the Mane 5 not being Princesses of Friendship.... if Twilight could just casually use Friendship Magic like Cadance can use Love Magic.

Something’s up here.

This isn’t really unheard of, it’s just strange. It almost goes against the rules set up by this world; you usually need all bearers in a set to use the Elements or assumedly similar powers, like Rainbow Power (which in and of itself came from the Tree of Harmony, so I’m gonna go out on a limb and say, yeah, they’re still using Harmony Magic together, just without the necklaces and big crown thingy). It’s why the mane 6 couldn’t use the Elements without Rainbow Dash in Return of Harmony, for instance, they just have to use it together.

Princess Celestia used the Elements alone once in banishing Nightmare Moon, but it was specifically to protect her sister (and her subjects), the pony she shared the Elements with (Familial Love is Magic). Cadance is using the spell she created to channel that Love Magic, and has been since before she even moved into the same city as her future sweetheart.

So... why’s she so special, then? This seems a little out of whack.

Well, I had to do a little digging to figure out exactly how all this Love Magic works, but I really love the answer I found. ... Love love love love (yay, another sub sandwich!).

Two Wholes, Not Two Halves/The Supporting Role

In the official Elements of Harmony Guidebook, the answer is staring us right in the face:

“PRINCESS CADANCE is the ruler of the Crystal Empire. She is the former apprentice of Princess Celestia, who practically adopted her as a niece. Her love has a magical quality that combines with the magic of her husband, Shining Armor, to make them nearly unstoppable.”

The book specifically says that Cadance’s love on its own is inherently special (it might have something to do with the fact that she’s distantly related to Princess/Queen Amore, the original Princess of the Crystal Empire that Sombra killed in the comics; who really knows?), so yes, Cadance on can represent Love on her own, at least to some degree.

It’s just that Shining’s magic makes it stronger.

And it’s the same with Shining Armour. He’s got one hell of a protection spell, even if he’s not necessarily using Harmony magic like Cadance, but when combined with her magic, that’s when things get amazingly powerful.

It’s why Flurry Heart is so special---their magic combined produced the first natural born alicorn since the founding of Equestria!

An you know, by now we all know that old “other half” and “completing you” stuff isn’t really not what love is supposed to be/do. You’re your own person in or out of a relationship. No matter what. Love is just there for support, and strength when you don’t have any. All that cheesy stuff!

Which is why it’s especially awesome to realize that’s how it works in this world too, because Shining Armour and Cadance are so often grouped together. Which is fine, they are married and love each other deeply so I totally get it, but they’re also their own characters, with their own strengths, flaws, and even their own magic.

The two of them have been criticized for lacking depth in the past, and I think that’s because we kinda saw them as a singular unit instead of two unique characters who just so happen have this kickass Power of Love when together. And, well, because of one other thing.

As time has gone on, we’ve also gotten to know them a bit better as individuals. Shining Armour is a complete and utter dork, a total mess just like his sister (she said lovingly), and Cadance?

Well, apart from being kind, humble, loving, and sweet to properly represent love, and being able to use this awesome power on her own, I think the reason we don’t think of Cadance’s character flaws a lot is because we’ve so often seen her in the supporting role.

By which I mean, doing her duty as the Princess of Love. She’s either there to support her husband, her kingdom, or her sister-in-law. Even in Princess Spike, we saw her being there to guide Spike back on the right path. Rarely do we see her moments of weakness.

But, like any other princess out there, she does have them.

She’s the type of pony to takes on too much, even when it physically exhausts her. She’s the type who needs to cut loose and have a dangerous adventure every now and then instead of just enjoying her cushy life (I feel like that’s Celestia’s influence). We can even assume that at one point she was the type that needed to learn how to take deep breaths to calm down her anxiety (since that’s what she taught Twi).

It’s in these small moments that we see she’s far from perfect, and in this way that we can truly appreciate Cadance for who she is.

The ever-supportive Princess of Love. The orphaned pegasus who stood up to a monster attacking her village. And the fallible mare who was put upon at a young age to become something incredible like her adoptive aunt---all only in addition to being a wife and mother.

Here’s all the editorials I’ve done, and here’s the most recent three, just for you! Enjoy:

Spike, Design and Animation, and Rainbow Dash Editorials

Year of the Pony

Header Image and Graphics Only Possible Thanks to...

Cadance Vector by 90Sigma Mane 6 Vector by Aetheon056 Discord Vector by Soren-the-Owl Luna and Celestia Vector by GameMasterLuna Cadance Vector by Sakatahintoki177

A whole heap of wonderful artists this time! Check ‘em all out if you’re in the mood for some kickass vector art!

Happy Hearts and Hooves Day, Everybody!

#princess cadence #princess cadance #yearofthepony #mlp cadance #mi amore cadenza #valentines day #mlp #my little pony #friendship is magic #love day #mlp:fim #mlp: fim #shining armor #animation #analysis #character analysis

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