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#i am so tired can someone take the reins of my life from me for some time

randombush3 · 2 months

Note

Kinda miss Fleur and Alexia bickering 🫣 can I get a request a one short of them getting into a fight

sorry I took ages to do it - I've been trying to think of a scenario. I imagine that the dutch players have had a very miserable international window lol

[...]

I slam the door behind me.

There are few things in life that cause me absolute devastation, but this week has been one of them. I’m tired, I’m angry, and, what’s worse, I’m resenting the fact that Alexia’s apartment is bright and happy.

She smiles as she emerges from the bathroom, perhaps not hearing how I entered as I used my own key.

I take it as smugness. (I want it to be smug.)

“Hola, mi amor,” she says with caution, heading over to greet me after not seeing much of each other for the best part of a week. She must sense the tension because her smile dampens, victorious glow from winning fucking everything fading away.

“Hey,” I mutter, tone clipped and curt and dripping with resentment. Alexia approaches, concern beginning to make her frown, reaching out gently to touch my arm.

I jerk it away from her.

For the briefest of moments, I feel a long-dead emotion: hatred. I loathe Spain’s success, am jealous of it, and it is not fair that it comes at my expense. Not when we are together, not when we are no longer enemies.

It was easy to play against Alexia when I was her rival. I could tackle her freely and let my teammates foul her when she was too good to beat, able to watch on without remorse. Seeing her hit the grass brought about a vindictive, satisfied feeling, and I relished in it.

Being her girlfriend is a lot harder, and it has been a while since I have had to play on a different team to her. It has been a while since we lost to Spain, but, just like they did in August, they have crushed our dreams once more.

My dreams.

The Olympics are more special to me than any other tournament, and will continue to be until the games are no longer valued in women’s football. They are my family’s history, the gateway into my relationship with my mum, and they are now out of my reach.

I huff out a breath, struggling to contain my emotions. “We lost twice so we won’t be going.” I tell her what she already knows but she does not rub it in. “Jaimie is going to qualify.”

Alexia looks at me, piercing eyes seeing through the floodgates I have shut. She must realise that I have cried on the plane – maybe even that I hadn’t stopped crying since we played Germany, only reining it all in as I made my way up the stairs to her place.

“What do you want, Alexia?” I snap as she attempts to touch me again, blinking myself back into reality and hoping I don’t start to cry.

Clearly, my wounds have not been nursed enough.

Alexia recoils, hurt flashing across her features before she schools them into something harder. Her jaw clenches. Maybe she thinks I am being immature. “What’s wrong with you, Fleur?” she asks, her voice tinged with frustration. “I know you're upset….”

“Oh, like you care,” I retort, bristling at her words. “You seemed happy to run around with Jenni, celebrating your socks off!”

Her eyes narrow, patience wearing thin. “Excuse me?” She doesn’t sound convinced that I am the real Fleur de Voss, looking me up and down to check I haven’t been replaced with someone else.

“You clearly have let it get to you. Have you forgotten what it’s like to lose?”

“Oh, of course,” she scoffs, “because that has never happened to me before. I was inconsolable after we lost the Champions League final; I didn’t come out of my room for–”

“Please, spare me the sob story.” I roll my eyes. “You’re on top of the world right now, Ale. Spain wins everything and you keep adding to your list of victories, crushing anyone who dares to get in your way. And the worst part is, you don’t even play! You don’t even play, and you act like you have done it single-handedly, with the biggest grin on your face–”

“Do you think I enjoy seeing you in pain?” She trembles with anger. She shouts, and she hasn’t meant to be the first to do that because she instantly steps back in regret. I may have flinched at the shock of her volume, but now I square my shoulders, daring her to fix my heartbreak. “Do you think it didn’t take all my willpower to not go over to you, to not comfort you, or hug you, or try to make you feel better? Do you think I wasn’t trying to get to you as soon as I could? Or that, in Sevilla, I didn’t look at flights to Germany so that you wouldn’t have to spend the night alone?” She steps towards me. “I know how much going to Paris meant to you, to your family. Believe me, I heard what your mother said to you – even if my English isn’t that good.”

“Your English is fine,” I mutter, instinctively destroying her stupid insecurity.

“Fleur, how could you think I take pleasure in your losses? You know me better than that.”

I shake my head, unable to quell the storm of emotions raging inside of me. “I feel like I don’t know anything right now,” I admit, hardly audible.

I was going to the Olympics. I was sure of it.

Jaimie and I were going together, and, although Mum competed for a different flag, we were going to follow in her footsteps; continuing her legacy because she promised me I would be good enough to do that. She promised us both, time and time again.

She may have left us, but she was the one who wrangled me a spot in the Australian youth teams. She started my international career for me, and I was going to repay her by showing her it was worth it.

What is it worth now?

“All I know is that I’m tired of feeling like my best isn’t good enough, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything’s okay.”

Suddenly, this is about more than just losing the Nations League and not qualifying for the Olympics. This is the fallout of the Ballon d’Or, and we both know it. Alexia seems to have seen this coming.

“I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me,” she begins, though guilt courses through me because I know it would have been asking the impossible of her, “but I’m here now.”

#woso #randombush3 #woso fanfics #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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psychoticallytrans · 11 months

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I am an angry person. It's not in a reasonable, rational, or understandable way. Regardless of the presence or absence of cause, I have been angry for as long as I can remember. Sometimes it's seething, like boiling water. Sometimes it's a quiet, burning glow, like embers. But my anger is always there, and it serves as the beating heart of who I am.

This frightens a lot of people, particularly those who have been hurt by angry people. Hearing that someone has anger as an integral part of them is, to some people, tantamount to hearing that this person is going to hurt you. It also confuses people who have met me. I'm consistently considered to be one of the gentlest, most caring people in a group. Children and small animals consider me a safe person.

Anger and gentleness are seen as opposites, traits that are incompatible with each other. Anger is seen as something that makes you hard and sharp, loud and fierce. But most of the time, my anger is what makes me gentle.

Anger, for me, isn't an aimless, formless force most of the time. When my anger is at a healthy level, it is a source that I draw on to have the strength and fuel to be kind. It's a deep well, and I tap it frequently. There's a comic I've seen around, more than once, that your anger is the part of you that loves you. For me, my anger is also the part of me that loves others.

My anger hasn't always been this way. It used to be harder to control, because I was a child with an unusual, overflowing amount of anger, and no idea what to do with it. The way I was told to deal with it was always to make it less, to put it away, to extinguish it.

I tried so, so hard to make this happen. Trying to extinguish my anger was like trying to fight a wildfire singlehandedly. It left me burnt, tired, and hollow, because a part of me was gone. When I didn't have it, I was cold and empty. Worse, it meant that when it flared back to life, I didn't know how to manage it. I scared a lot of people, including myself.

So, what changed?

I read books about people who used their anger as fuel to do good. People whose anger didn't overwhelm them, who embraced their anger as a part of them and used it to do amazing things. People whose anger didn't make the people they loved fear them. People who were angry, down to the deepest core of their being, and were still as good, important, and helpful as those who weren't.

Many of the people I read my anger into were characters that other people didn't see as angry. They were "passionate" or "cynical" or "protective". Their anger was reframed in a way that made it more acceptable to view positively. Still, I saw how those feelings burned in them. Sometimes low and warm, sometimes hot and fierce. Always within their control.

I found things to be angry about, things I cared about enough to dedicate a part of myself to them, and poured my anger into them. My anger came back to me, and I didn't try to kill it anymore. I made it mine. I made it me.

My anger and I cannot be separated, and still have me be the same person. It would be like trying to separate me from my sorrow, my joy, my love. I would, and have, hurt myself badly trying to do so.

Does this mean that anger should be left unmanaged? No more than grief should be, or joy, or love. Sometimes an emotion is too strong to be healthy, and you need to rein it in. Sometimes, it's not appropriate for the setting, and you need to refrain from expressing it on the spot. Anger is not uniquely evil or less your own than any other emotion. Attempting to eliminate it is damaging.

If you are going to take anything away from this post, I would like you to consider your own anger.

How would you be different without your anger? How would your life be different as a result? How would other people's view of you change?

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magnoliamyrrh · 6 months

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. ive got such a long list of reasons to be bitter and fed up and angry. i have so much pain within me. sometimes i feel like pain, deep, deep, sorrowful pain, mourning, grief, anger, a desperate need to stop feeling suffocated is what i know best. and u know as much as i think all thats justified and as much as i think my anger is important for my sanity , and as much as tbh i like by this point to an extent that my over it little tolerance for bullshit angry kinda agressive vibe is a part of my personality - that my bitterness is earned and aged like fine win. but idk, i have tired to rein it in these last months progressively bc it was consuming me and my nervous system literally couldnt handle it

but. something i still havent figured out how to deal w is my very, very, very bad case of survivors guilt. maybe its gotten a bit better but that makes me feel guilty too. it always does. i try not to let it haunt me but It Always done it haunts me that its somehow not supposed to consume and haunt me

. after everything my own pain and trauma is not what fucks me up the most. its always that its not over for so many others. for so many others its not over, its never over, theyre going through it rn, many worse than anything i ever went through. many that wont make it out alive

my best friend says its not my responsibility especially with my crippled health and the little of my fragile sanity to try to do something about it. that spending years trying to do something about sex trafficking or whatever else would break me, eat me up inside, that people who aint traumatized end up killing themselves or alchoholics, shells from what they've seen, so what would it do to me? he says. ive earned my rest, ive earned looking away, ive earned my peace

...

but what does that matter? what it would do to me? he says he doesnt understand why i spend so much time writing and speaking on this shit. at first it was to understand myself. now it is the horror that it is so much more horrible and bad and keeps going, its not me. its others. i always have felt more impacted by seeing others in pain than myself. i never can stand seeing my pain on someone else.

he says he doesnt understand why i look. he says he doesnt understand why i think. he says he doesnt understand why i study. doesnt understand why i want to do something about it when its so horrible

........

but ive been.... lucky. not so but lucky. lucky enouth to live. to get out. to get my "freedom."

but what does "my" individual freedom mean? when others dont have it? what does it matter?....... what does it matter?

it feels like my trauma isnt over through them. its not. im just one person, but for so many its not over. it wont be over. they may never see over until their graves.... time is a flat circle and all

...

and i think, how many? how many? and i think too.... in the history of the balkans, of my people, my women and little girls... how many? for how long?

how many today? everywhere?

how am i supposed to rest easy. how am i supposed to live my life ignoring it

why shouldn't i burn myself out. i already am. why shouldnt i take on the trauma of getting back into it for the sake of others

what does my freedom mean without theirs?

their screams echo through my head. they were my own once. i have stopped screaming

they have not

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mommybard · 2 years

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World of Darkness? Sooooo-

Werewolves, Vampire, Mages or Fairies?

Three of you all asked at once so its easier to just answer here

I might get a little ranting and if I do I apologize it is nearly 11am and I HAVE NOT SLEPT because I make GREAT LIFE CHOICES. But let's begin~

I enjoy most of the WoD properties, even the weird ones like...I think its Promethean? Or something like that. Tired brain can't think but it lets you be golems or Frankensteins monster and so it got a huge thumbs up from me. Though they get a little fucked over since things tend to die around them :(

Of the main 4, my favorite in theory is mage but to actually play is vampire. Mostly because Mage is...Mage is a hot fucking mess and it confused a whole bunch of people and its very very very VERY fucking dense at times. Most of the times really. If you can actually find a group who understands it and will play it CHERISH THEM FOREVER BECAUSE YOU HAVE FOUND THE FUCKING HOLY GRAIL. Mages can also be ridiculously OP though so I understand some game masters just wanting to avoid that. Bit harder to rein your players in when the mechanics of the game have them warping the very fabric of reality on the regular.

Vampire is a fun one to play, much easier to understand, simple enough to get newbies into without requiring them to take a 2 semester course on the system. Plus it seems like people have more of an idea of what vampire legends and mythos they like the most to attach themselves to a clan that represents it than they do for mages. Also gonna love my Clan Tremere and Clan Gangrel. But I am starting to kinda dig the Hecata, ngl. Also also, Viva la Anarchs. Camarilla and Sabbat can fuck off

Also amusing seeing people realize that Vampires in WoD are like one of the weakest supernatural groups. Movies have convinced people that vampires can go toe to toe with werewolves but in WoD only a dumb vampire would ever try such a thing. And it is hilarious when you see someone who doesn't realize the power imbalance try.

I know vaguely about the Fey one and we have the books here for it but it just never appealed to me as much. It also tells a very different story. Mage and Vampire leaning more into political intrigue and court/corporate shenanigans while Fey seems more about trying to survive and grow and find yourself after a hugely traumatic experience that hit you not just mentally and psychologically but for a lot of the Fey peoples physically as well.

Werewolf I'm mixed on. If someone tells me they prefer the old werewolf books I'm gonna kinda eye them suspiciously. They tended to just go hard on the...I want to say subtle racism but a good portion of the time it wasn't all that subtle at all. It just went with wholesale stereotypes of indigenous peoples. The new edition seems to be written by people who realized hey, maybe we shouldn't couch this entire system in that and are making improvements. I just need to find a story teller willing to let me play a werebear in it now.

#lil bunnybun #nonhorny asks

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doitytoity · 2 years

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7.11

Okay let’s hash it out bestie. Couple things.

Went on an interesting “date”? with Marvin mf Drew on Saturday. Government name I’m 30 we’re rocking like that now I guess. For posterity. Anyway yeah it was cool enough when I rein myself in and acknowledge my expectations probably got the better of me on that one but in all fairness to me I got bait and switched so okay cool whatever. He’s nice and I do want to know more about him in the interest of being mature and not judging someone based on their initial very minute misgivings. I trust that I will know if it can’t continue for whatever reason.

Second, izier is being funny as shit. Like he’s spiraling due to lack of control and I’m just not playing a part in it. I don’t even care to really hash that one out it’s just hard because the situation is hard. I probably just need to let him do his own thing it’s clear that may be the only effective way to teach the lesson instead of repeating myself hella. Like I’m tired.

Jonny is desperate. He made it seem like right before izier got here he was ready to take me seriously which could not be farther from the truth. He’s doing the thing again whether he’s aware or not. The bread crumbing. He doesn’t understand that I no longer think he’s a commodity nor am I motivated by sex or the attention and care I know it will never actually provide. That didn’t make sense but you get it. His advances are laughable like what is wrong with men seriously. Not men. Not men. Doodz…with that undignified ass spelling and everything.

I’m kinda proud of where I’m at even though I anticipate that it might feel a little lonely at times, I don’t really want to give into games. Like I’ll play them right back but never again to my detriment. Never in such a way that leaves me empty. I’ll just dance around all the weird shit until something makes sense.

But like for example, with this Marvin thing, I guess the reason I’m so intrigued is because I’m lowkey learning right alongside him? Idk if that sentence was cohesive at all but alright. Like I get to see what dating at 30 might actually be like like this shit might actually be tough as shit. It’s hard when we’re new but also set enough in our ways but haven’t yet learned how to grow WITH someone or the value of that so we don’t know how serious to be or when… like I’m so used to love bombing or trauma bonding for a quick trick to feel close to someone when neither of us know if it’s even safe yet… and that’s like something I really need to be cognizant of. That’s a pattern that does not yield the results that I actually want, it’s not serving me long term.

I want a life partner. I am looking for a life partner. Does that need to happen tomorrow? Absolutely not in fact I know that will not work and I should be concerned if it did. It’s crazy to me how once I listed the characteristics for my perfect partner it really did make it easy to identify that like, Jonny can’t be a fit due to substance abuse issues. Even if it’s seemingly innocuous. It’s not. And that’s just something I have to be rigid with. Unless a prospect has demonstrated sustained self control around weed and alcohol it is not a gamble I can take. It’s easier to quickly identify what just won’t work and I like that a lot. I know I can’t go back to izier ever because of the religious aspect among many many other things. And clearly he has a hard time relinquishing control and exercising self control while speaking to me or at me (which is scarier) so like nah, I’m not gonna do the attitude or controlling behavior, or the mental gymnastics where I have to know what he wants to hear and then be dishonest about who I am to make him feel better. But it’s also none of his business so there’s that too…the entitlement is just so stifling. Like today I said I wasn’t going to hang and he pressed and was weird and was ultimately like “idc either way (uh okay if you felt that way you wouldn’t have to say that) just *be honest about what you got going on* because I don’t want to interfere” or WHATEVER and it’s just like but bro I can’t be honest because then I have to admit that you were essentially right like imma move on but the “moving on” is so nuanced like I’d be “moving on” mentally emotionally and spiritually regardless of Marvin’s presence you know?? Like of course I’m moving on that’s what I’m supposed to do now that I fully fleshed out the idea (WITH YOUR HELP) that you’ll never be what I want or need. I’m not thirsty for dick attention or validation like come on stop projecting!!! BUT IM NOT EVEN TRYNA SAY ALL THAT BECAUSE IM TALKING TO A BRICK ASS WALL MY GUY. Like I don’t need to explain all the little rabbit trails of how you’re right but actually so wrong. You don’t even need to know about Marvin so you can cross boundaries and pry and wreck it. Nah.

So idk rn. Things are weird but this is fully what I expected. Shit is gonna be weird for a while. Shit’s gonna be weird up until I cook for Marvin and then it’s gonna be different LMAO if I even get that far. I’m sooooo not pressed. He is super cute tho I’m just not tryna have any undue attachments or expectations. Like he’s so cute I could literally fall into his smile like yikes but also to be real we all know that’s not enough. We know the BASEBALL MITT HANDS are not enough (do we tho? 👀) mans got sausage fingers omg but ITS NOT ENOUGH!!!!!!! The cute Pete Davidson (🤮) gap is not enough!!!!!!

I have an open mind. What is mine is mine and will always be mine. I don’t have to chase it.

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

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Fight or Flight-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @ladycolinbridgerton)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hiii,Love your writings! Could you do something Bridgerton, Anthony x reader where the reader tries to stop the duel and gets hurt? Angst/fluff?!’

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Daphne Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Collin Bridgerton x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Duel (guns, mention of death), injuries, angst, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Collin and I laughed as we both carried Violet through the foyer of the home, clearly someone had too much to drink. My mother-in-law continued to deny this through her giggling.

“Of course not, you are completely sober.” Collin joked as we made it to the stairs.

“And I’m sober enough to know when you’re being impertinent.” Violet said to her son, still holding my hand.“Good night dears.”

“Good night mother.”

“Good night.”

Collin and I shared a look as she went upstairs, failing to hold in our laughter. We both doubled over as we laughed, until we heard someone call us. Turning to our left, we saw Anthony and Benedict in the doorway.

“Come here.” Anthony hissed.

“Good God. Did someone die?” Collin whined.

“What? What’s happened?” I asked, suddenly panicking.

“Collin, get here, now.” Anthony instructed, his younger brother complying.

I followed.“Anthony, what’s wrong? Is someone hurt? Are you in trouble?” I didn’t mean for all the questions but I loved him too much for something to happen to him.

He shoved Collin inside, stepping out and shutting the door behind him.“It doesn’t concern you darling. Just go up to bed.”

“Wait,” I grabbed onto his arm before he could get away,“Anthony, please don’t shut me out.”

“This isn’t for women’s ears. Please, do as I say.”

Anthony kissed my forehead tenderly, before he quickly ripped his arm away, looking sympathetic as he did so. The door shut, and although I was tempted to burst in there, I knew this was something out of my league. Sighing, I reluctantly walked away, slipping off my heels before slowly making my way upstairs.

As I prepared for bed, my mind was distant. I couldn’t stop wondering what their meeting was about. Anthony looked stressed (even more than usual), and the fact that the eldest brothers were together meant this business was serious. Once my maids were finished and gone, I sat up in bed, having left some candles lit. At first I thought reading might take my mind off things, but the romantic novel only made me think of my husband more. I was tired from the ball, feet throbbing from dancing, which made me believe I could fall asleep. I wasn’t able to fool myself, unfortunately stuck awake again. Groaning in frustration, I stood, making my way to the door. I hesitated, wondering if I should really go storming downstairs when Anthony told me otherwise. No, I had to check on my love.

Opening the door, I heard someone else do the same. Poking my head out, I looked down the hall, seeing Daphne also awake. She rushed towards me, grabbing my hand without a word and dragging me out of my room.

“Woah, Daphne, woah, slow down!” I exclaimed quietly, stopping her at the top of the stairs.“Why are you rushing downstairs? What’s wrong?”

“My brother is doing something terribly stupid, and I cannot stand by doing nothing.” She said, tugging on my arm as she continued her route.

That made my heart beat even greater, terrified for what my husband could be a part of. I kept up with her, still tightly holding her hand until we burst into the room the men had their meeting in. Collin was the only one in there, looking alarmed when he saw us.

“Where have they gone?” Daphne demanded to know.

Collin sighed.“Daph-”

“Tell me where this duel takes place.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Duel?! Anthony has gone to a duel?! With who?!” I exclaimed.

“So that I may prevent it from happening.” Daphne continued.

“Hastings has done you a grave dishonour.”

“Can someone please explain what is happening?” I stood beside them, though neither took any notice.“What does the Duke of Hastings have to do with any of this?”

“Surely you wish to see him pay?”

“Not with his life.” Daphne snapped back.

“Anthony is dueling with Hastings?! What if they kill each other?”

“It will not come to that.” Collin finally addressed me.“The Duke will remember his honour once he finds himself on the deadly end of a pistol.”

“And if he does not?” Daphne said.

“They will both do the gentlemanly thing and fire their pistols wide. Now allow them to bring this ugly business to a conclusion themselves.”

Daphne groaned as I began pacing around the room.“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that said? Myself and (Y/N)? That we should leave the men to their business and to not concern ourselves with such weighty affairs? Whose affairs, right now, are my future, my family.”

“This isn’t going to end well, you know it Collin.” I stopped walking around, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“(Y/N) is right. Anthony is too angry to fire wide and Simon is too stubborn to yield. You did not see them in that garden.”

“No, I did not, and neither did anyone else. You should be happy that no one saw anything.” Collin pointed out.

So something dishonourable happened in the gardens of the party. Something that has cause my husband to want to duel an old friend. Part of me felt slightly angered towards Daphne, she had been playing with fire around the Duke, it’s all Anthony went on about for the last few weeks.

“Only someone did see.” Daphne realised.

Collin and I stared at her wide eyed.

“Cressida Cowper. Collin, you must tell me where they’ve gone.”

“I’m coming with you.” I declared.

“Neither of you are going, Anthony will have my head-”

“Collin.” I stood in front of him, putting on the angriest face I could.“My husband may be about to lose his life and I knew nothing about it. Believe me, he will be reprimanded for that, but if you do not tell us where these stupid men are right now, it will be me having your head, not Anthony!”

After pressuring Collin to reveal where the men were, we raced to the stables, both Daphne and I still in our nightgowns, with only a cloak to cover us from the wind whipping against us as we rode. Our poor horses were not expecting this early call, using what energy they had to gallop as fast as possible. My throat was dry, heart racing and mind drowning with thoughts about what could be happening right now. Had they even started? Were the shots fired?

We rode out of the country and into large fields. It seemed that we would never reach them in time. I kept my eye out for any signs of people or horses, praying that my husband wouldn’t be bleeding out on the ground. Why hadn’t he told me? He hadn’t even said goodbye. All I got was a simple kiss on the forehead, nothing other than that. Even if he did survive, he would have to leave this place, but was he going to leave without me?

“There they are!” Daphne shouted to us, speeding her horse ahead.

“Daphne! Wait!” I yelled after her, but she was too far away.

There were multiple bodies up ahead, and it looked like the duel had only just started, they were taking their steps already. I urged my horse to go faster, screaming Anthony’s name, but he couldn’t hear me. The men turned, ready to aim and fire. Tears started falling down my cheeks, quickly drying from the wind hitting my face. I was getting so close, but it still wasn’t enough. Daphne had somehow made it to them, but as the gunshots echoed out, she was caught in the middle of it, her horse rearing up and throwing her off.

As she landed on the ground, my horse also got spooked, rearing up as hers did, though I managed to stay on. However, it went hurtling forwards, and I couldn’t regain any control. I screamed as I tried to grab the rein again, feeling my balance slip away. One minute I was managing to stay upright on the horse, the next I had fallen off to my left, with my foot still hooked onto the stirrup. My head hit the ground harshly, and I was dragged through the dirt and grass as my horse continued to gallop. I couldn’t make out where I was, or what was right or left. Suddenly, the horse started slowing down, the dragging finally stopping. As I figured out where I was, my head still spinning, I felt someone lift my leg out of the stirrup and slowly onto the floor.

“(Y/N), (Y/N) can you hear me?” Anthony gently held my face in his hands, kneeling beside me.

“My head...” I moaned.

“It’s alright, my dear.” an older man appeared, and I only just realised he was also kneeling beside me.“You’ve hit your head quite hard, you’ll likely have bruises along your back, and your leg will ache. But it’s nothing rest won’t fix. If you have severe headaches, you should call upon me again to give you something for it. For now, I shall forget I ever saw any of this, just as we agreed.”

“Thank you doctor.” Anthony breathed out, helping me sit up as the doctor walked away.

I clung onto his arm, using my other hand to pull his face closer to mine. I kissed him hard, relieved that he was still alive and unharmed. He seemed to be feeling the same way as me, until I pulled away and slapped him round the face. His mouth was open in shock.

“That’s for going to a duel without telling me.”

“(Y/N), I...what?”

“I can’t believe you thought you could just go and get shot, or shoot someone and leave me behind! What would happen to me? I couldn’t bear it if you died, or left, either way, I am furious with you!”

“Darling, I had to do it. He dishonoured Daphne, therefore, dishonouring our name.”

I tried to stand by myself, though felt dizzy, annoyed that I had to have Anthony to help me. He kept his arms around me, and although I loved the feeling, knowing he was safe, I had a hatred for him in that moment.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” I looked up at him, ignoring the throbbing in my head.

“We would have to leave society, make a life as...I don’t know what but we wouldn’t be allowed here anymore.”

“So? Do you really think I regard myself so highly that I would diminish my love for you to remain in society?”

“What?”

“Anthony, I would rather leave all of this behind, and be with you wherever you go in the world. That fact that you think I would prefer to live without you hurts me.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t mean-”

I slipped out of his hold, hopefully stable now.“I don’t want to speak of this right now. I’m finished with this topic of conversation.”

Anthony knew there was no point trying to reason with me in that moment. It was also no time to argue when there were more pressing matters at hand. He huffed, only walking away from me once Collin approached, letting me loop my arm through his for support. I watched as he glared at Simon, who was in a deep discussion with Daphne.

“We must resume before someone should find us.” he said to Simon before taking a pistol from Benedict again.

“There will be no need to resume.” Daphne spoke up. We all looked at her, wondering how she was going to stop the duel.“The Duke and I are to be married.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

We had all ensured we were home before any of the staff could see us, slipping out of our dirty clothes and stuffing them under the bed. I had struggled, feeling nauseous as I rushed. But as I lay down in bed, my headache suddenly returning and my back aching, I heard the door lock. Anthony threw the key onto his desk in the room, hands on his hips as he paced.

“Anthony.” I tried to stop him.“Anthony, please don’t do that.”

“I’m thinking (Y/N).” he mumbled.

“Then why don’t you think in your office? You’re making me dizzy. And nervous.”

“Do not speak to me like that. You do realise how this might tarnish our name?”

“They’re getting married, it will be fine Anthony.”

“It does not matter, he still dishonoured her, I saw it myself.”

“And you have not done that yourself in the past?”

That made him stop in his tracks. His head turned to me so quickly I though his neck would snap off.“They were not eligible ladies.”

“And that makes a difference? Anthony, I need to rest, please leave me.” I turned onto my side, pulling the covers higher so they almost covered my face.

He groaned, and I instantly regretted what I had said. His footsteps were loud as he made his way to the door, but I never heard it being unlocked. He sounded like he was now approaching the bed, and I found out I was right when the bed dipped in front of me me. I opened my eyes to see Anthony shuffling around, and I heard two light thumps on the floor from taking off his boots, before he lifted and covers; he shuffled in towards me, gently putting his arm under my pillow, moving as close as he could to me.

“You are right.” his voice was quieter now.“I, along with many men, have...done things in the past. Those women are, were meant for those things, but as soon as I saw you in the room, I knew I had to approach you. I remember that beautiful blue dress you were wearing, and how well you held yourself. But you were still so enticing, I found you to be so interesting, yet you only spoke with me for five minutes. You danced so elegantly, yet I still thought I could keep up with you.”

“If you are trying to make me swoon so I forget all about earlier, it isn’t working. You use the same story every time.” I said.

“Because it’s one of the best ones. I could retale about the time I saw you first promenading, the balls and social events we coincidentally went to, how I called upon your house-”

“Anthony, you may stop.” I tried not to giggle, but my smile was evident.“I am still angry at you for putting yourself in such an idiotic and dangerous situation. However, I deeply admire your love for your family, I know you would do anything for them. Just...if you ever do anything like that again, you are to inform me of your plans. I go wherever you go.”

“I promise. I was stupid to think I could do that to you. I just wanted to make sure you would still have a good life.”

“The only way I would have a good life is by being with you.”

Anthony smiled, tenderly kissing me.“You should rest darling. You’re hurt.”

“As long as you stay here with me.”

“I promise.”

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

Text

maternal weariness | l. sangyeon

🐣 pairing: neighbour!sangyeon x single mother!reader 🐣 word count: 2.7k 🐣 genre: fluff, slight angst, a bit domestic, cliché AF 🐣 tw: none? 🐣 synopsis: your daughter is suffering from her growing teeth and you're about to lose your mind, but you have enough self-control to do something before bursting. 🐣 a/n: i am so domestic for that man it was almost impossible for me not to write something else for sangyeon + kids. 🐣 requested: no!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

A headache started immersing itself into your skull, hitting all your nerves at once to the point of having you totter for a few seconds. Once you finally got a grip on yourself, you decided to take your crying baby in your arms in order to desperately calm her down. You closed your eyes as you rocked her, feeling frustration, exhaustion and annoyance bubbling inside your entire body. This torrent of emotions crashing into you didn’t help with your headache, only to have it spreading at the back of your neck to your shoulders. Sitting down inside your rock chair, the cries of your small daughter didn’t subside, you almost had the feeling that they increased.

“Shht baby, I know it hurts, calm down love,” you said as you stroked her cheek with your thumb, tears gathered in your eyes as you felt helpless. It was wonderful to have a baby, you had never felt this happy in life, but it was a whole other responsibility. There were many ups and downs, but never once have you regretted giving birth to your beautiful daughter.

Today, you were more on the downside of the life of a mother. Despite all the efforts and pieces of advice you received from books or other mothers, your daughter seemed to not be ready to sleep through the night yet, forcing you to stay awake until dawn, only getting dozens of minutes of rest each night. Bringing up a child on your own was not impossible, but it was certain that it was hard. Hearing your friends that had husbands or partners willingly taking the reins so they could rest had you envious, and somewhat feeling guilty.

The baby daddy was never there, only supporting from afar through small amounts of money. At the beginning of your motherhood, you hated it but almost begged him to come and help you, but he always claimed that he had better things to do and that you should already be grateful that he was willing to financially support you two.

What kind of father did you give your daughter? Where did the gentleman and the caring boyfriend from a few years ago go? Who decided to replace him with a rich asshole that only cared about his appearance and his own health?

The tears threatened to fall as you thought of all this while rocking your daughter back and forth, the side of her cheek against your chest as she kept on yelling in pain. It hurt to see her in this state, you wished you could take the pain away from her, but sadly, you had to assist her in her teething process as best as you could, which meant only cradling her and kissing her.

However, your daughter seemed to have another sense, a sixth one if we could call it that way, and she knew when you were stressed or angry, two emotions that were currently pulsating in your veins and controlling your entire being. You wanted to scream and cry just like her, but you resisted the temptation, you had to stay strong for your daughter. The process was hard you two, but one of you was about to burst and lose her mind. Your breathing pattern picked up, became irregular, the crying of your baby only increasing.

Clutching your teeth, the tears finally spurted out of your eyes violently, uncontrollably cascading down your face onto your daughter’s pyjamas. While a tidal wave of emotions burst into your mind, you remembered one thing many mothers, as well as your own once told you: Never. Ever. Shake your baby out of pure rage or despair. No matter how exhausted or frustrated you are, pass it onto someone else before calming down.

And that’s exactly what you did. Putting on your slippers, you crossed the threshold of your apartment to appear into the corridor, the cold air only increased your daughter’s cries, probably disturbing the entire building. Violently crying and struggling to catch your breath back, you weakly crashed your fist onto your neighbour’s front door, desperately hoping that they were here.

It was getting suffocating, and you felt like fainting, but you were trying to get a grip on your emotions for your daughter. As you were about to go back to your apartment filled with utter defeat, the door opened on your neighbour, a confused look written on his face as you sighed in relief.

Sangyeon was a young man you had met on your first day moving inside your current apartment. He was kind enough to help you get some boxes inside the elevator while you maintained the metallic doors opened, helping you even more as he saw that you were his new neighbour. He looked really happy to help, relieving you of this stress as you were exhausted from the irregular sleeping schedules of being a mother.

He had let you come inside his apartment once when you had accidentally locked yourself out with your daughter as you were going on a walk to try and lull her to sleep. You felt like you had the angels on your side because he knew an old friend from an ex-co-worker that was a locksmith. He offered him a great tip, so he came within the next hour, allowing you to unlock your door and get back to your apartment safely. The next day, you walked up to his door and offered him a bottle of wine and some baked goods as a way of thanking him, and you could tell that he was touched by your gesture.

Back to the present, Sangyeon took in your messy state, concern filling his eyes as your tears never seemed to stop.

“I am so sorry to disturb you, but my daughter’s been crying for hours now and she doesn’t want to stop, and I don’t know what to do and-“ you tried to say in one breath, but your neighbour stopped you by placing a hand on your shoulder, exhaling deeply as you were lost and confused.

“Please breathe Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. Tell me what’s happening,” he said, his voice clear-cut and composed despite the disturbing screeches of your daughter.

“Her teeth are coming out and she’s in so much pain I don’t know what to do, it keeps me up all night and… and I don’t feel like being capable anymore,” you said as you kept on crying, your neighbour nodding at every word you said.

“Let’s not stay in the corridor. Can I come in your apartment?” he carefully said as he quickly grabbed his keys and locked his door, accompanying you towards yours.

“Yes, yes, of course,” your daughter couldn’t stop yelling and crying, the volume never decreased, only getting rid of the echo thanks to the smaller walls of your apartment.

Your neighbour took his shoes off and placed his keys next to yours, eyes quickly wandering around the apartment: there was no sign of a partner’s presence. He made a mental note of it and strode to the living room, your apartment layout being the same as his, just a tad bit smaller. You sat on the sofa with your crying daughter, eyes still glistening with tears as you couldn’t hold them back.

“Pass me your daughter,” he said as he extended his hands, only for you to stand up and began to guide him on how to take your daughter, but he seemed pretty comfortable without your explanation.

“My sister is a mother too, I got a bit of practice beforehand,” he explained with a reassuring smile, and you nodded, thankful that he filled in the silence, satisfied with the small nods and exhausted smiles you were giving him.

He soothingly rubbed your daughter’s back, gently resting her head on his shoulder as he strolled around the living room. You sighed as you let your temple rest on the backrest of the sofa, trying to get rid of the negative thoughts invading your mind.

“May I ask for her name again?” he asked, and you sniffled, wiping your tears with your top sleeve. “It’s Haerin,” you answered with a tired expression, the man nodding at your words with a reassuring smile. “I wish we could have met again in other circumstances, but babies are a priority,” he said as your daughter’s cries were slowly decreasing, feeling already a bit better as he seemed to be able to magically soothe her.

“I’m so sorry. I needed to give her to someone for a moment, I feel like exploding,” you explained with an apologetic look on your face, but Sangyeon just shook his head, his reassuring smile never leaving his face.

“Don’t apologise for this, you did what was best for you and your daughter,” you felt better at his words, the encouragement you were desperately craving from someone finally reaching your ears.

At the mere thought of not having someone by your side to raise your daughter, loneliness and guilt hit you like a tidal wave, eyes filling up with tears again, and Sangyeon sadly looked at you.

“Thank you. It’s just that… I don’t have someone in my life right now and I barely talk to my friends and family because of my job and my daughter, so hearing some reassurance just makes me feel slightly better,” you said and Sangyeon smiled, walking to the couch as your daughter was now magically asleep in his arms, reddened cheeks due to her cries and the pain of her appearing teeth.

“Y/N, I am sure you are being an amazing mother. It’s not innate to take care of a newborn, it requires a lot of effort, strength, and sacrifices. Of course, it is easier to have someone by your side because they can help around the house, feed your daughter, bathe her, and take care of you and her while you rest. Nevertheless, it’s not impossible to do that alone, and you are even stronger when you cope with everything on your own.” Sangyeon mumbles, gently caressing your daughter's back.

“Don’t you think you are doing a bit too much?” you asked, a bit embarrassed to be praised like that by your neighbour, but you also asked for it. You truly didn’t know what to say, and timidly looked away as Sangyeon didn’t seem to stop.

“No, I don’t think so. Not only do you take care of her, but you also do all the chores, go to work, grocery shopping, do all the administrative work, you are a wonder woman! So with all the physical and mental charges you go through every single day, it’s normal to want to break down at some point. And you did what’s best, give your daughter to someone before you burst. It was a good reflex. Even if it’s hard, you are doing great Y/N, never forget that,” he said with your sleeping daughter in his arms, her tiny fists clutching onto the fabric of his black t-shirt. Tears were streaming down your face as you managed to smile at his words, feeling some strength reappearing in your system at the end of his praising monologue. “Thank you. You don’t realise how much I needed that,” you said in a weak voice, only to have Sangyeon smiling down at you.

“It’s completely normal. You can always come and ask for help with your daughter, or anything else. I’d gladly praise you for being a single mother all over again,” you managed to chuckle at his words, looking down to the floor as you felt his eyes never leaving you.

Looking at your daughter, you felt some maternal inner peace coming back as she was now resting, looking quite peaceful. She looked so safe in his strong, muscular arms, you were almost envying her for being in someone’s embrace.

Sangyeon exuded financial and mental stability, you were glad you rang at his door and not some crazy people. He looked so comfortable on your couch, almost as if he lived there. Well, maybe he felt so comfy because the configuration of his apartment was just like yours, but something felt different. Seeing him sitting on your couch with your daughter in his hold felt… natural, almost normal.

You shook your head as you tried to get rid of those thoughts, feeling suddenly embarrassed to fantasise so easily about him. You held back a smile by clutching your jaw, putting your thoughts down on the fact that you were exhausted and slowly going crazy with managing everything in your life.

“Where is your daughter’s crib?” he whispered and you slowly stood up, waiting a few seconds as dizziness took over your brain, your neighbour holding your forearm with his free hand.

“Follow me,” you tiptoed to her purple bedroom, Sangyeon smiling as he looked at the pretty decoration. He handed your daughter back to you to get her ready for bed, admiring the walls to give you two some privacy. Once you placed her down and neared her stuffed toy, you turned the baby phone on and switched off the light, Sangyeon inviting you to leave the bedroom first before closing the door.

“Thank you so much for your help,” you whispered, and he shook his head, a friendly hand landing on your shoulder.

“You can ring at my door at any time, I’ll try my best to help you,” he said with a reassuring tone. You felt like he was slipping away from you, and before you could do anything, your mouth spoke faster than your brain.

“Can I maybe cook you dinner to thank you?” his eyes widened for a quick second. “It’s really nice of you Y/N, but you are exhausted, you should rest.” “I insist, I think I can do it,” you cursed at yourself for sounding this helpless, watching him ponder your offer before sighing. “Only if you let me help you, then,” he said and you nodded, getting into work in silence as not to wake up your daughter.

With a warm dinner now digesting in your stomach, you both sat down on your couch, unintentionally sitting close to the other as you were exhausted. Closing your eyes for a second, you felt like you had been hit at the back of your head, your tiredness being easily readable on your face.

Drawn features, pale skin, dark circles falling to the middle of your cheek, you looked extremely scary, almost sick. But at least your daughter was healthy, and that’s what mattered the most to you as a mother. Sangyeon started chatting with you about some things, but you were too tired to keep up with what he was talking about.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you mumbled as silence filled in the room, Sangyeon looking at you before letting a smile emerging on his face.

“It’s okay, it was just chattering anyway,” he said and you swallowed down the lump of guilt on your throat, heavily sighing as your whole entire body was screaming and begging you to go to sleep.

The man next to you noticed your drowsy state and exhaled as well. Your head kept falling downwards, only to immediately raise it back up and blink a few times. Without even noticing it, Sangyeon sat closer, and his hand raised to your cheek, cradling it as he gently pushed your head to the side. Your other cheek landed on his shoulder and you frowned, trying to move away as his hand didn’t leave your face.

“Rest Y/N,” he whispered, and you weakly smiled, now realising how your daughter fell asleep in a few minutes in his arms.

Only by resting on his shoulder, you could feel your body grow heavier and more comfortable. His body warmth mixed with his laundry scent and cologne were a surprisingly good mixture to lull you to sleep. Your eyes grew heavier, and you finally gave up, shutting them before falling asleep within the following seconds.

Sangyeon chuckled at your state, gently pushing you away to unfold his arm and wrap it around you, resting your head against his chest. His thumb rubbed in circular motions on your upper arm, sitting comfortably on your couch as you slept against him.

He threw a few glances towards you and you were heavily sleeping, smiling to himself as you unconsciously wrapped your arm around his middle. Maybe he was meant to enter your life and to be honest, he wasn’t willing to leave anytime soon.

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

In Name Only - Part 18

A/N: Hello, my loves! I hope you enjoy this next little part of our story! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: language, period typical misogyny, description of violence, smut (18+ only)

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Honeyholt was a solitary, quiet thing. It was almost too quiet and allotted for far too much time to think. The more you thought about it all, the more you realized how rash and impulsive your decision was. Oberyn would be furious; but he would understand, right? He had to - you were doing this to help avenge him. Admittedly, your plan wasn’t even fully formed at this point, half formed at best - all you knew was that you had to give your family a piece of your mind. You’d lived your whole life getting pushed around and left in the shadows, and you weren’t willing to do it any longer. Oberyn and the Martells - Dorne - were your family now, and you would be cold and in your own grave before you’d let something happen to them.

You weren’t exactly sure what you would do when you made your arrival back at your childhood home; that much you still had to figure out. Improvisation would have to be your friend, and you prayed to the gods, old and new, that you would be able to pull something off. Whatever that something was, you weren’t sure yet. But it would be something; the sins of your family would not go unpunished.

“Unbowed, unbent, unbroken,” you whispered to yourself as you slowly approached Honeyholt. You offered your mare a few gentle pets as she slowed her trotting; she made a small sound almost as if trying to convince you that your actions were foolish. Too bad you’d already known that, “I know, girl. But I have to do something, anything. Oberyn would do the same for me. He will understand - if not now, eventually he will.”

The soft, sweet scents of the region soon reached you as you took in a breath of fresh air. All the best of your childhood suddenly reached you, and you realized just how much you truly loved the Reach, especially Honeyholt. It was a beautiful, lush land, covered with lots of greenery and flowers and animals. Almost magical in some ways; so different from your current home, but that did not take away from the beauty of Dorne either. Two places that managed to be amazing in their own ways, coexisting in peace. Just like you hoped your families would.

But it was too late for that now. Your brother had made sure of that.

“This is as much for him as it is for me,” you explained quietly, almost as if you hoped she would speak back to you. Maybe it was the tiredness or delusion from traveling for the past two days on horseback by yourself. Maybe it was the need for reassurance that your actions weren’t completely off the mark. Maybe it was you trying to convince yourself that what you were doing was justified, “I have to protect him at any cost.”

As you approached the castle, one that looked so welcoming and warming if one didn’t know better, your stomach started to churn. There had been so many years of happiness here, when your father was alive and lord of the place, but it had quickly turned so much darker once he passed and power transferred to your brother. Maybe it wasn’t the place itself that provided happiness, but the people in it that made it a home. That’s what it was - it wasn’t the castle or Honeyholt that was home, it had been your father, and the other kind people that had lived there. Just like Dorne - sure, it was home, but it was Oberyn and the rest of the family that made it warm and inviting.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you heard soft, gentle buzzing in the distance. A tell-tale sign that you were in Honeyholt - the bees that the region was famous for were hard at work producing their delicious honey. You’d grown up with the sounds and smells, and in a way, it set your soul at ease. This was familiar - comfortable.

Once the path narrowed and you were within walking distance from the castle, you slowly slid off your mare and took her reins in hand, letting her walk next to your side. After so much riding, your legs felt like jelly, and you almost stumbled over your own feet. Petting her muzzle, you offered her a kiss to the side of her head as she followed you closely behind. The familiar sounds of people working around the castle reached your ears as you walked towards the main entrance. But before you could go further, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you realized that any chance for a quiet entrance was officially ruined. As soon as one person was aware of your presence, word spread around like a wildfire. There was no hiding anything in this type of circumstance; your whole family would know you were here.

Turning your around, your golden cape swirled behind you as you plastered on the best smile you could muster up. Sarvon approached you as he wiped off his hands on a rag he quickly tossed over his shoulder. A sense of regret ran through you; he was a few years older than you and had always been nothing kind - you’d always considered him a friend. He was handsome in a typical sense, tall and lanky, with a kind smile and fair hair and eyes, so different from what you were used to these days.

“Well, well, well, look who came back to see us all,” he held out his hand to you, which you eagerly shook you. If it was possible at all, a bit of your nerves seemed to settle down, “Lady Martell. How are you doing?”

“Sarvon,” you smiled fondly at him, “I’m...well. How are you faring? You look well - I trust everything is much the same?”

“Just the same as ever,” he agreed with a small smile, “but there are some good news - I am to be married within the year! You remember Yennefer? I’ve been courting her and she’s agreed to be my wife!”

“That is most exciting indeed,” you threw your arms around him, feeling a true sense of happiness. He had always been kind and gentle, and he deserved the happiness of a new marriage, “she’s a lovely woman, and I’m sure she’ll make a most wonderful wife. Someone to finally keep you in check!”

“That she will,” he agreed as a light flush rose up in his cheeks, “can I take her for and get her to the stables? What brings you back to Honeyholt, if I may ask?”

“Of course, and thank you,” you held out the reins to him, “I just...wanted to see my brothers, and my mother. I couldn’t stand being away from them for another moment.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you too,” he agreed, “it’s always a welcome surprise to see you. Dare I ask you if you come to bring us good news?”

“Oh,” your smile faltered for just a moment as you knew exactly what he was hinting at, “I’m afraid not. I suppose I just missed my family!”

“Of course,” he agreed, starting to lead your mare away, “I’ll announce your arrival. I believe Lord Beesbury is in his study.”

“Thank you, Sarvon,” you offered him a small nod, “you’ve been most helpful as always.”

Before he could say anything else, you turned and walked towards the entrance, walking in under the large stone arches. This was it; whatever plan you were going to concoct, you needed to come with it fast.

A few more people excitedly greeted you, surprised by your very sudden and unannounced arrival. It was still early in the morning, and you were positive you were positive that you looked as disheveled and tired as you felt. Deciding not to indulge any of them in conversation, you gave them curt nods, marching through your former home towards the study that had once been your father’s sanctuary. Even as you approached it now, it felt different; more cold and uninviting than it ever had. What was once filled with light and laughter was now quiet and daunting.

But nonetheless, you steeled your resolve and reminded yourself that you were a strong, independent woman, and that this was what you needed to do. The dagger strapped to your thigh suddenly felt like it was made of ice rather than steel, a million pounds heavy as it weighed you down.

When you reached the heavy doors, you didn’t even bother to knock or announce your presence, instead pushing them open and barging in. Your brother dropped the scrolls he was reading as he looked up in shock and awe at the sudden intrusion. His face seemed to shift through a hundred different emotions as he tried to figure out why you were possibly there. Eaton let out a long breath as he leaned back in his chair and a smirk grew on his face. You knew exactly why it was there; it was the same reason you were there.

“My dear, lovely sister,” his voice was laced with venom as you walked up to his bureau, already seething with anger, “what a surprise, although I can’t say it’s a pleasant one. I’m shocked to see your face again...I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘if I ever see you again, it will be on your deathbed.’ And yet...here you are.”

“You know why I’m here,” you spat at him, “you vile, foul, loathsome little cockroach.”

“There’s that attitude that we all love so very much,” he laughed lightly, but there was no happiness to it, “and look at you know. I see you’ve taken to Dorne well, dressing and acting just like those savages. Sending you there was the best decision we’ve ever made.”

“You dare to speak of my home - my people - in such a manner?” your eyes narrowed as you shook your head at him. He would never change, “you have some nerve for a pathetic excuse of a man that won’t even tend to his people and remains in his study all day. You are worth nothing, you are a shame and a disgrace to our father - our name. At least my husband - “

“Your husband,” he spat as you felt your blood pump, “yes, your weak, pathetic fool of a husband. I had the pleasure of meeting him as you well know. He’s about what you deserve, old, foolish, a whore of a man that will never love you. I’m sure things are going quite well - he can’t even get you with child from the looks of it. What a shame; it seemed to work for all his bastards. Perhaps it’s just you. How absolutely tragic - just what you always deserved-”

“Stop speaking,” your anger and gusto had quickly turned to a feeling of deep remorse, muddled with anger, “y-you have no clue what you speak of. You know nothing-”

“I did try to do you a favor, baby sister,” his lips were curled in a snarl as his wicked grin displayed his full teeth, just like a predator ready to take down his prey, “I did try to kill him. And I would have done it too, if it hadn't been for his little right hand man. He had to stop me just before I could finish him off. You know, part of me was glad he survived; I figured he would die a more slow and painful death at your hand. Imagine my disappointment when I heard that Prince Oberyn, the savage beast of Dorne, survived.”

“He barely survived,” your eyes were burning with the tears you were struggling to hold back, “he was on the verge of death - i-it took everything possible to keep alive, Eaton. I was never more scared...I thought I had lost him.”

“And you should have been happy.”

“I would rather die than to live a day without him,” you practically shouted at him, your voice crackling with each word, “he is my husband and I love him. He is everything to me!”

“Love? You are such a silly, pathetic little child,” his dark laughter reverberated off the stone walls, “you have learned nothing - you will never know anything. Life isn’t about love-”

“Yes,” you interrupted him, “love is everything. Father knew that too; it’s a shame you never learned that. I love Oberyn Martell, he is my husband, my family, my home. And I will never let you do anything to him, or any other part of my family.”

“They’re not your family-”

“They are more my family than you ever will be,” you insisted, “all Oberyn did was try to come here and make amends, to try to instill a sense of peace for everyone - for me. Because he loves me and cares about me. He held no ill intent for you, and still doesn’t - he wants to do nothing to you, despite what you had done to him. He just wants peace, and you couldn’t even give him that much.”

“You think he has your best interests in mind?” he scoffed, “he doesn’t care about you! He only wants to make himself look good. He will never love you - no one will ever love you!

"He loves me!"

"He doesn't love you!" you were both yelling at each other but by this point, "Waylar never did either. But look what you did to him, you caused his death and for what? Your feelings? And you almost did the same to your husband. You need to learn that love isn't a real thing and that in this game you survive and adapt or die."

"You are so hateful," you slowly reached for the dagger, ready to pull it out and wield it at him, "your heart has turned to stone. What a shame; we grew up with a lot of love from father but you never learned. I know it's real - not fake - and I will make sure everyone knows. I will make sure my husband knows how much I love him, my children, my family - everyone. I will never end up like you and I couldn't be more thankful than that."

"You will live and die a fool-"

"And you will die as a hateful, spiteful man," you pulled out the dagger and displayed it to him, watching as his eyes grew wide in worry. You had sneaked incredibly close to him and the dagger was mere inches from his throat. It would have been easy to end it all then and there, "you recognize this, don't you?"

"Where did you get that?" he swallowed and you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "it belongs to me!"

“No,” you insisted with a wicked smile of your own, “it doesn’t. It’s mine, by rightful inheritance. Father gave it to me several years ago before he died.”

“It has belonged to every head of this family for centuries!”

“Until now,” you reminded him, letting the beautiful steel glint brilliantly in the morning light, “now it’s mine. And it stays with me - and I promise you one more thing, dear brother. This blade will be the last thing on your mind as I kill you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” his eyes were wide with worry as you kept the blade drawn and ready to strike at any second as you walked around the desk and stood in front of him. Pressing the blade into his flesh, you dug it in just enough to draw a thick trickle of blood, “you’re making a grave mistake.”

“Oh no, I’m not,” you insisted, making your voice sticky sweet with honey, “I’m not making a mistake at all. It’s not so funny when it’s the other way around, is it Lord Beesbury? Imagine how it felt for Oberyn as you stabbed him, as you inflicted would be deadly wounds. Don’t you think he felt the same way? And what did he do to you? Nothing. He didn’t deserve any of this. But you? You deserve this because you have done horrible things, Eaton. You don’t deserve compassion or mercy.”

“When they find what you’ve done, they’ll have you too flayed like the Boltons would.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “I won’t be caught for this. And even if it was discovered to be me, they would thank me.”

“You are a horrible, insistent bitch-”

“You almost took my husband from me - the one man that has loved me unconditionally. The man that would do anything for me - my family. I will be damned if I let you ever harm so much as a hair on his head. You will never harm him, my children, my family, any one I care about ever again. You’ve set up your own downfall, and I will be your executioner. You know the best part of all? I don’t regret a single thing.”

Slowly dragging the blade down the column of his throat, you let it stop just at his heart. It was so close, just within reach. All you had to do was plunge it into his chest and he would be dead. Just like he had wanted Oberyn to be.

So close, almost there...all you need to do was sink it into this flesh. You felt wild, almost like a mad woman - but everything you had been wanting was right in front of you.

Just a little further, a little harder and it would all be done...

"Stop!" the familiar voice pulled you out of your daze as your chest rose and fell in a hectic, chaotic pattern. Nothing made sense right now - only vengeance and redemption - blood, "don't do this. You will regret it every single day of your life. And I can't let you live like that."

The two of you turned and found Oberyn Martell standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you with the most neutral expression you had ever seen; a true and collected negotiator. Your surprise turned to shock as you stared at your husband. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he wasn’t supposed to know about this. The dagger shook in your hand for a moment as Eaton swallowed thickly.

“O-Oberyn,” you were between a rock and a hard place; you could easily have plunged the dagger and ended this, giving yourself a sense of satisfaction and vengeance. But if you did so, you would directly be going against Oberyn’s wishes. He didn’t want this but you did...you were almost positive of it. A strangled cry left your lips as you found yourself between a rock and a hard place, “you’re not supposed to be here!”

“And neither are you,” he took a few steps closer as he regarded the two of you curiously. He was very pointedly trying to keep the situation calm and diffused, “you don’t belong here, my love. This isn’t your home - come with me and we’ll go home. You don’t need to do this, he isn’t worth it.”

“Oberyn, he tried to kill you! He would have done it if he’d gotten the chance - he hoped you would die a slow painful death after you escaped. He loathes you, and for what?! You have done nothing but be kind and he’s a horrible, vile person! He doesn’t deserve my mercy or anything,” tears were running down your cheeks as you tried to rationalize everything to yourself, “what if he had taken you from me? I-I-I won’t let anything happen to you, ever, Oberyn. He deserves this!”

“That may be so, but you should not be his executioner,” he had come closer and closer until he was standing next to you, a hand tentatively wrapping around your wrist, “you do not deserve to live with such a thing on your conscience. Fate will be his undoing. Not you.”

“What if…”

“Don’t do this,” he insisted, as your brother looked around wildly, trying to figure out what was going on, but very aware that any wrong move, accidental or intended, would kill him, “you will never forgive yourself. Anything you would do to him would be too kind. But please, spare yourself the heartbreak and let him go. I’m right here, I’m okay - nothing will ever happen to me or take me from you. Not in this life or the next.”

“Oberyn,” his name was but a shaky whisper off your lips as you met his soft, brown eyes, “I-I just...I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, more than anything,” he slowly started to pull your wrist and dagger away from Eaton's throat, “that’s why I’m here - why I’m insisting you don’t do this. Please don't do this - for my sake and your sake. Just stop and come home with me. To our home - our family."

"Oberyn…"

"Come on, my Sunshine. Its not worth it. He is not worth a lifetime of regret," without even thinking about it, you let him pull your hand away as he carefully pulled the dagger out of your hand, "its okay, my love. It's okay."

Turning your attention away from Eaton's face, you looked at Oberyn and saw that he was just as emotional as you. He tucked the dagger into his waist belt before putting his hands on your face and wiping your tears away, "I-I'm sorry, my love. I thought...I thought this was the right thing to do."

"I know," he promised as he wrapped his arms around you and held you to his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to weep into his chest without abandon, "its okay."

Eaton watched the two of you with confusion on his face; whatever was going on, he knew he was safe for now. Clutching at his throat, he wiped away the blood that had oozed down his neck. A small sound of surprise escaped his lips at the burn.

"You," Oberyn turned to your brother with a look of disgust etched into his features, "you will say nothing of this to anyone, or I will personally finish what she started. You will never contact her again, and she will never contact you again. This is over - it ends now. And if I get even so much as a whiff of you in Dorne or anywhere near us, I will make sure you suffer. The Boltons aren’t the only ones who know how to flay a body. Do I make myself clear, boy?”

Eaton was so stunned, stunned into silence as he merely nodded at the Dornish Prince. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he fell short of words and watched in silence as Oneryn took your hand and slowly led you out of the study. The young lord hissed slightly at the burning sensation on the delicate flesh of his throat. It had all seemed like a fever dream; but the scar that your actions had been sure to leave were most definitely a reality. He collapsed in his stiff wooden chair, a faux throne for a great pretender, and held his head in his hands. Maybe he should have reconsidered crossing the Red Viper - and you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn remained silent as he tightly clutched onto your hand and led you out of the castle. Only a few rushed words were said, but no one dared to approach either of you. If word of your arrival had gotten around, either no one cared enough to greet you, or they were all scared. But Oberyn was fast on his feet and had the two of you out of there before you could protest or make any sort of comment. Tears were liberally rolling down your cheeks in thick, fat droplets and splattering onto your gown and all the over the ground.

He must have gotten there in a rush and quickly put the pieces together as his steed was wildly saddled just outside the gates. You saw Sarvon rush over with your own mare, almost as if he had been roped into aiding the Prince. Silently, he took the reins to the small mare and helped you to climb onto her back before repeating the same to his stead.

Quietly thanking the young man for his assistance, he said nothing to you before reaching into the saddlebags and handing you a flask of water and some fruit. At least the man was smart enough to know you’d be starving and parched. You took them with quiet ease, too embarrassed and confounded to say anything.

He led the way in silence for some time, still checking to make sure you were closely following him. The tension settling between the two of you was thick and palpable; it wasn't angry per se, but it certainly wasn't good. A few times you had wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but found yourself unable. Instead, you remained silent and studied the back of Oberyn’s head to try and get a read on him. It didn’t work; the Prince was good at hiding his true feelings when he needed to.

“There’s a tavern a few miles ahead,” he said quietly after a long bout of silent; it had been morning you’d left Honeyholt and now dusk was starting to fall, “we’ll stay there for the evening and then continue on tomorrow morning.”

“Okay,” was the only response you could muster up. He hadn’t even turned to look at you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The tavern was a small, quiet place, quaint and warm, and if you hadn’t been worried about the nerves churning out butterflies in your stomach, you would have been excited to rest there. Oberyn had handled business while you made your way to your temporary lodgings. As soon as you’d entered the room, a low sigh escaped your lips. Turning to the aged looking glass, you could see that you were an absolute sight to behold; hair wild and mussed, tired, bloodshot eyes, and ragged looking clothes. Luckily, there was a tub waiting with hot water in the adjoining room and you were halfway to slipping off your clothes when Oberyn came back into the room.

He offered you a nod of acknowledgment before sitting at the edge of the bed and watching you closely, his arms crossing over his broad chest.

“Go on,” he offered up, raising an eyebrow before looking between you and the wooden tub. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stripped the remainder of your clothes before sinking into the warm water and letting out a long sigh at the feel of the warm water against your skin. It was the most relief you’d left in days, “better?”

“Yes,” you admitted as you grabbed a cloth to start washing your tired body, "thank you.”

“I brought clean clothes,” he continued; his voice was so slow and neutral, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, “and they will bring up some food. I presume you might be tired and hungry,”

“Mhmm,” his calm demeanor was almost more unnerving than anything else, and you wished he would yell at you. At least then you would know his true feelings.

It was silent for some time before anything happened as the two of you had just stared at one another. Oberyn ended up stripping off his own outer robe and remained only in his trousers as he washed his face in a small basin. Finding it impossible to complete even the simple task of washing your hair, you finally gave in and broke down, “Oberyn? Are you ever going to talk to me again?”

“I thought I had been.”

“You know what I mean,” you made swift work of washing the soap from your body before wringing your hair, “you’ve hardly said more than a few words to me. It isn’t like you.”

“What do you want me to say?” his hands found his hips as he looked at you in question, You were taken aback at his short, snappy response, but at least it was something other than complete emptiness.

“Say you’re angry with me, that you’ll never forgive me or...something.”

“Of course I’m angry,” he said as you reached for the towel as you stood up and wrapped it around your now clean form, “I am beyond livid - furious - do you have any clue as to what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up? Do you have any clue as to how worried sick I was? Every horrible, wicked thought possible went through my mind!”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

“It’s not up to me to forgive you...the question is whether you forgive yourself,” with a heavy sigh, he sat back on the bed and you timidly walked over to him, “you could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t…”

“Luckily - this time,” he cut you off sharply as your lips formed a thin line and you willed yourself not to argue back, “but it was still a huge risk - a very uncalculated risk! One wrong move and you could have been hurt, or worse - killed. And what good would that have been? It would have been for naught.”

“I had to do something! You were going to do nothing!” you insisted, unable to keep your silence. While your husband may have had valid points, you wanted him to know you felt just as strongly about your own views, “Oberyn, he is a foul, horrible person! He wanted to kill you, he hoped you would die, and the worst part of all was that he didn’t regret anything. He laughed about, made a mockery out of you and myself. He deserved everything he got and worse!”

“Would you have done it?” how he managed to keep calm was beyond you. He simply looked at you, his breathing even and his eyes full of curiosity as you stood in front of him, wildly flailing while wrapped up in your towel, “would you have killed him?”

“I...I…” his simple question felt like it had punched the air out of your lungs as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, “I would…”

“Do you really think you could have plunged that dagger into his heart, through skin and muscle and bone, and killed him? Do you think you could have watched the life leave his eyes as he took his last breath?”

“I…”

“Killing is not as simple as you think, you sweet, innocent girl. It takes a lot to end someone’s life,” he explained as you stared at your feet, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, “it is not something to take lightly - I have never taken it likely. I have killed many men, but only those who have deserved it.”

“He deserved it.”

“That may be so, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Oberyn let out a long sigh as he held out his hand to you, “you do not deserve to be left with such a thing on your conscience. You are much too good for something like that; do not let one man, however terrible he may be, take away your light. He will get what he deserves, everyone always does, and it will be much crueler than anything you could do. Leave him to fate, to the gods, to the universe. He is not a part of your life any longer - you will never have to see or speak to him again. He has built his own bed and he will reap what he sows. But you? You are too kind, too pure, too innocent for such darkness. You are of a different kind than he is; do not let him drag you down to his level for a few moments of the idea of vengeance. It will not be worth it. Never.”

“The things he said...they were horrible, my love,” you took his hand, and let him pull you towards him, so you were standing in front of him. Oberyn stroked the back of your hand, almost absentmindedly as you ran your free hand through his curls, “I have never heard such horrid, loathsome things before - against me, you, our family. He...he said you didn’t love me, that you would never love me. It was all a lie and that I was just meant to go to you and give you children.”

“You know absolutely none of that is true,” he insisted as you nodded, letting a few tears run down your cheeks, “and he knows he is wrong. He says these things because he is jealous, because he will never have them. He is cold as steel and has closed off his heart, and he will never love or learn to be loved. But that does not mean what we have isn’t real. I love you more than you will ever know. I will do whatever it takes to prove that to you, every day.”

“I know you do,” you whispered as he stood up and pulled you into his body, wiping away your tears, “I know what we have is real...it’s just...I don’t know. I was acting rashly, and I just couldn’t handle the idea of someone hurting you, hurting the one person I love the most, and getting away with it.”

“You will never lose me,” he whispered as he traced over your features, “it’s because of you I’m still alive; you stood by my side every minute of every hour for days. Without you, I don’t think I could have made it. You must know that I’m not the only one with the world to lose. When Asha told me of your plans, I thought I was going to lose everything, I was worried. Yes, I am mad - mad that you directly defied what I asked of you, you lied and sneaked out of Sunspear, you went completely and held a knife to a man’s throat.”

“When you put it like that…”

“Truthfully?’

“Yes, I suppose.”

“You are still so young, with so much to learn,” he put a finger to your lips before you could say anything else, “I will teach everything I can, you will learn, in time. But sometimes you must learn to trust others - me. I would never do anything to hold you back, or do anything that wasn’t in your best interest. You know that right?”

“I do,” you admitted, “I suppose I was so caught up with the idea that if I had to suffer, so did he…”

“What a world it would be if everyone thought like that, no?”

“Is that why you’re a Prince, my love? Because you’re so wise and smart?”

“Because I was born lucky. The rest I’ve learned over the years, as you will,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his, “it takes time, but you will get there, and I will be there every step of the way.”

“I love you,” was all you managed to whisper as you stared back into his eyes, “Oberyn.”

“I love you,” he repeated, “don’t ever do anything like this again, okay? Next time I might not be there, or things can go very differently. It’s not worth it.”

“I promise,” you agreed as he gently kissed your lips, “never again. I'm sorry I worried you, just...please don't ever leave me. I'm sorry."

"Its okay," he nodded at you, and you felt a warmth pool in your belly at the way he observed you - with reverence, devotion, and adoration, "I'm not going anywhere."

Unable to stop yourself, you brought a hand to the top of your towel where it was barely hanging on. Undoing the weak knot, you let it fall to the wooden floor with a delicate thought as you stared at him. Your whole body flushed under his intent gaze, but it was only mere seconds before he wrapped his arms around your waist, his touch warm and brazen on your bare skin.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you crashed your lips onto his, kissing him with a fervent intensity that he easily matched. There was nothing soft or gentle about this, it was a rushed tangle of tongue and teeth as you battled for dominance. But you were no match for Oberyn, a man experienced in life and love, as gripped the back of your neck and held you close to his lips.

Your hands went to the waistband of his trousers as you tried to rip them off as quickly as possible. You wanted and needed him now. His hands found yours as he helped you to undo the trousers and push them to the ground. Oberyn's lips barely left yours as he stepped out of them and he reached for you again. His hands found your bum as he gave it a firm squeeze and you moaned into his mouth. You could feel him smirking against your lips.

"Oberyn," his name was a reverent whisper off your lips as he kissed along your jaw and nipped at the delicate skin of your throat as he did his best to ensure that there would be marks for everyone to see, "please...need you."

"Mhmm," he backed you up against the wall, gently so you didn't hit your back or head too hard. Warm, calloused but gentle hands roamed your body as he touched over every part of you he could reach. His hands were on your breasts, massaging them and rolling your pert nipples as you tried not to completely lose it - not just yet.

You kissed every part of him you could reach, relishing in his soft, golden skin. He snaked hand between your bodies and down to your core, where he started to circle your clit after running his fingers through your soaked folds. It hadn't taken much to get ready for him today.

"All for me?" he rasped in your ear as all you could do was nod and bite on your lip to keep from crying out. He kept touching you, working you up and slowly inserting two fingers, expertly curling them and causing you to see stars. Burying your face into his shoulder, your legs started to feel weak and shaky as you almost reached your high. But before he went any further, he ceased all his ministrations and pulled his hand away.

"Oberyn!" you huffed at him as he bought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. That was enough to silence you completely as you watched him in awe, "oh."

"Sweeter than the finest fruit," he smirked before taking his cock in his hand and stroking his length a few times, "my sweet girl, you drive me wild with worry and wonder sometimes."

"Only because I love you," you instinctively spread your legs slightly to make room for him. Lining himself up at your entrance, it was a few seconds before he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of him stretching you out so perfectly as he took the opportunity to kiss you.

He wasted no time in thrusting into you, slowly at first, but then quickly setting a brutal pace as he tightly gripped your hips. It was almost as though something inside him had snapped he needed you desperately. Soon, the room was filled with nothing but your combined moans, the lewd sounds of skin on skin, and your back lightly hitting the wall. You were almost positive that anyone near you would be able to hear but was going on but it didn't stop either of you.

Before too long, your walls started to clench around him as his cock twitched within you. Unable to form proper words, you came with a cry around him and he offered you a few more shallow thrusts before spilling inside of you.

He held you pinned against the wall for a few moments as you both came down from your highs. You pushed a stray curl from his forehead before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I love you," you offered up as a sort of all encompassing apology as you studied your husband's face.

"I know," he agreed as he touched your cheek, "I love you. Now, let's get some rest, Sunshine. We still have a lot to talk about later."

Maybe you'd made a rash and horrible decision; but at least you knew his love for you was truly unconditional.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #in name only #ino

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okay-j-hannah · 3 years

Text

Devout Hands & Rubied Apples

The Lord of the Rings : Fic

Faramir x Reader

Word Count: 3241

Warnings: Man I’ve always loved Faramir but holy frick I think he’d be such a loyal and caring husband 😭 I love wingman Boromir too

Request: “I’d love to request a Fic with Faramir where he and the reader (who was also apart of the fellowship) spend Aragorn’s coronation and the party that takes place after together. He’d slowly be building up the courage to confess how he feels while Boromir tries to be a good wingman. At the same time, Merry and Pippin are scheming ways to get them together. Just lots of fluff involving dancing, drinking, and cute interactions :)” @whitewolvesandwitches

A/N: In light of the Ring being destroyed, the fellowship find themselves in need of a new task. One appointed by Boromir to aide his brother in winning over the heart of their healer and friend

(Y/N) took it upon herself to assist in the infirmary as much as she could. After leaving the battlements relatively unscathed, ensuring the remnants of her fellowship were all right, she turned her attentions towards the wounded.

Upon entering the rows of stretchers enveloping the interior of Minas Tirith, she was quick to notice her companion Boromir. Strong and steady, the warrior was knelt over a makeshift cot wielding a man of similar fair hair.

“Boromir,” she muttered, resting a hand along his shoulders, “He will recover.”

The older man reached to touch her hand behind him, “I know. How could he not with you watching over him? You saved my life against the Uruk-hai, and you will save his life against my father’s poor judgement.”

(Y/N) frowned at the memory of being told the Steward had made Faramir’s condition worse even after sending him to his death at Osgiliath.

“I am flattered, but I’m sure he draws strength from your constant visits.”

“I would beg to differ,” the man she saw as a brother stated. He drew another stool closer as she took a seat to stay. “He is just as comforted by you as he is by me.”

(Y/N) moved a hand to feel the sickly brothers forehead. When she moved it towards his cheek, there was the smallest of movements as he nuzzled her palm in his sleep.

Boromir rested his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth with both his hands. His knowing eyes flickered to (Y/N)’s face, wondering if she’d have a reaction.

“What are you looking at with such a smile?”

“Oh, simply pondering your verdict.”

(Y/N) grinned back, “His fevers broken. It won’t be long before he’ll be walking about.” She let her hand linger perhaps too long on the scruff of Faramir’s cheek, for Boromir was clearing his throat and standing to leave.

“I must get back to the front. Aragorn is holding a council for his coming coronation.”

“Then get at it, Steward.”

Boromir flashed a grin, taking a light bow, “As you wish, Healer (Y/N). Keep my brother alive for me, will you?” He turned on his heel, trying to hide that smile that almost gave him away.

And watch over Faramir, (Y/N) did. Though attending to other duties with the quickly recovering survivors, she spent every sparing moment at his bedside. With him out of immediate danger, Faramir was moved to his own chambers, a soft pillow beneath his head and plenty of books for (Y/N) to choose from.

She became accustomed to a schedule of attending the infirmary then grabbing a tray of food and making way for Faramir’s room. She’d share a meal with him, trying to keep him awake longer and longer each day before he fell into another unconscious stupor.

When he did, she simply picked up the nearest book and read passages from it, sometimes saying them aloud to him. She found peace in those moments alone by his bedside. Chaos was attempting to be reined in by Aragorn, Boromir, and Eomer – the new lords of Middle Earth. And the sanctuary of Faramir’s chambers was always sought after a long day.

Though she was never far from boisterous visitors.

“Evening, (Y/N),” came the cheery voices of Merry and Pippin. “How are you?”

“Perfectly content,” she mused, placing a book marker on her current page, “What can I do for you?”

Merry put his hands behind his back, taking slow steps to Faramir’s bedside, “We were simply wondering when the last time you saw the light of day was.”

She laughed, curiosity peaked, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“By our reckoning,” Pippin continued, at the foot of the bed, “You’ve done nothing but move between the infirmary, kitchens, and this room every day. You’ve done hardly anything else since the war.”

“We,” Merry gestured between himself and Pippin, “Are here to rescue you.”

(Y/N) sighed a smile, “I told you I am perfectly content sitting here. But thank you for showing such concern.” She had an impish tone to her words, “How are you healing, Merry?”

“Don’t you change the subject,” the hobbit retorted, “There is to be a party after Aragorn’s coronation, and you’ll have no one to see if you don’t leave this room to meet them.”

Pippin flickered his gaze between the bed and (Y/N)’s puzzled expression, but he added quickly, “There are many soldiers dying to meet the one that healed them after the field.”

She couldn’t see how Merry stamped on Pippin’s large foot. They weren’t supposed to encourage meeting other men of the field.

“You know I’ve got plenty of friends that’ll be there.” She thought of the fellowship and how joyous their reunion had been when the Ring was destroyed. “And I don’t much fancy being sought after by a handful of injured soldiers.”

“And why not?” came Faramir’s quiet voice from the bed covers, “Surely these soldiers have won the honor to seek your hand.”

“Oh, Faramir!” she said, standing to reach his forehead, “How are you feeling? You slept far longer this time.”

The young captain, though healed of his injuries, was still pale and weak from weeks stuck in a bed. “I’m all right. Your book reading keeps me well asleep.” He lingered his weary blue eyes on her expression, not wishing to do anything that would make her retract her hand from his face.

She was oblivious to how he was looking at her.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer his question?”

Merry stamped on his companions foot again.

“Oh, well…” (Y/N) seemed a bit flustered by the question, “I’ve never been one for courting, especially by strangers.” She moved her hands back into her lap and Faramir felt his brows slant in longing.

Merry and Pippin flipped their gazes between the two, peculiar smiles on their faces. Similar to the one that Boromir usually bore when he visited.

“What are you up to?” She questioned, “There is more than simply getting me out of this room.”

“You got us,” Merry resigned in mock defeat, “We need to get you out for a particular reason.”

“We need to speak to Faramir,” Pippin said in a rush, unable to conceal his excitement. A swift smack from his friend made him yell out, “Ow! What was that for?”

Merry sighed, “You have no tact, Pippin. Must be a Tookish trait.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at her friends banter. The lovely sound made Faramir return his tired gaze to her.

“You could have just said so,” she said. “I have made promises to set up the festivities with Eowyn. Perhaps I’ll seek her out and start early.”

And once she had left, the hobbits were quick to let out the breaths they had been holding. Faramir, though still exhausted from his lack of energy, laughed at them. “I have a feeling Boromir has something to do with this.”

And speak of the man, Boromir inched his way into the room, looking around him as if to see if someone had spotted him yet. “Are we alone?”

“Completely,” Merry muttered, “(Y/N)’s off to find Eowyn.”

“Don’t worry, Faramir,” Pippin consoled his friend, “We’ve been putting in the good word for you the entire time you were ill.”

The poor man appeared entirely bewildered, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, “Good word?”

“Listen to me, brother,” Boromir said, a kind of light in his eyes. “The opportunity is almost ripe for the taking. The coronation is in just a few days, and that will be when you strike.”

“Strike?”

“We’ll all be there if you need us,” Merry continued, “We’ve just got to get you up and about. You still look like death.” Him and Boromir offered to help Faramir into a sitting position.

Such small a movement and it had Faramir straining, “I still don’t understand.”

“(Y/N)!” Boromir stated with such excitement, “Now is the time to confess your feelings for her.”

That woke him up real quick. “(Y/N)? Have you three been scheming behind my back?”

“Only because you were on your deathbed,” Pippin shrugged.

Faramir ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath, “I couldn’t possibly… how would I… like (Y/N) would actually…”

“Relax, Faramir,” Boromir smirked, “I don’t believe you have anything to worry about.”

“You should have seen her,” Merry sucked in his lips in exuberance. “She paid such special attention to you out of all the survivors.”

“Which brings us to why you have to get up, Faramir,” Pippin stated, “There’s a lineup of soldiers talking of charming (Y/N) at the coronation. You have to be better by then to take them on!”

Boromir raised a hand, seeing the slight panic entering his brothers face, “There’s no need to pick a fight with every man that comes her way. Because I am sure (Y/N) will pick you regardless.”

“You’re sure?” Faramir asked, almost breathless in his growing anxiety. “How could you possibly be sure?”

“You were not awake,” Boromir had a wicked grin, “She clearly has feelings for you. She is simply not as vocal about them.”

Merry urged him on, “I don’t see (Y/N) staying in any of her other injured soldiers rooms.”

The coronation was a celebration beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings. Aragorn was crowned King Elessar amongst a flurry of pale petals and ecstatic subjects. Friends and acquaintances gathered from every stretch of the map, offering bows of good faith and trust.

(Y/N) stood diligently beside those members of the fellowship she cherished most. Boromir clapped boisterously, whistling loudly above the cheers. It made (Y/N) smile.

Amongst the chaos, Boromir leaned around to get a better look, grasping someone near him and trading places. This new person bumped right into (Y/N), stumbling and finding that it was Faramir his brother had traded places with.

He gave her a sweet, apologetic smile, as if to say, “My brother is a menace.”

She blushed back, taking a step away from brushing shoulders with him only to discover Legolas standing steadfastly beside her. She caught a questioning, slightly smug, look on his face before retreating back to being shoulder to shoulder with Faramir.

She couldn’t possibly have noticed the minute glance the elf gave to Boromir over their heads.

And the newly made King Elessar came walking among his subjects, the fair lady Arwen on his arm. He peered at her delicate, radiant face with such devotion that it made (Y/N) blush. She could feel heat radiating off Faramir’s body against her shoulder.

She sneaked a glance and caught him staring at her, even as the King and his Queen trailed past. Faramir couldn’t seem to look away and in an attempt to appear normal, started clapping along with the crowd. (Y/N) couldn’t put her finger on it, but the expression on his face reminded her of the look on Aragorn’s only moments before.

When he looked upon his queen.

The festivities that followed were as celebratory and raucous as you’d believe, especially with friends such as Boromir and Gimli around.

(Y/N) had quietly followed Faramir and Legolas into the throne room, which had been decked especially for the occasion. A large feast surrounded them, fiddlers and minstrels in the corner, and grand chandeliers of candles above.

She found that within an instant Legolas had mumbled an excuse to leave, putting her and Faramir alone and at the edge of the party. She kept her hands folded and in front of her, a shawl gracing her back and elbows. A circlet of golden leaves and rubied apples surrounded her head, an extravagance that Eowyn insisted upon.

“Healers,” she had said. “You never do anything for yourselves.” And she proceeded to dress her friend in fine white gold and cornsilk trimmings.

It was Faramir that attempted speech first, “The crown you wear, I recognize it.” He had to lean forward slightly to be heard over the feast. “It is quite beautiful.”

(Y/N) hoped the dimness of the candles hid the crimson on her cheeks, “Thank you. Eowyn took it upon herself to dress me. She says infirmary aprons are not acceptable.”

Faramir laughed, “It suits your complexion.”

She swallowed hard; there was no way her cheeks were as red as those rubied apples. In a moment of silence she straightened the circlet nervously. Faramir appeared to notice as he opened his mouth to speak.

But (Y/N) got there first, “Eowyn told me of the summer wine.” She gestured to a table across the hall, “I simply must try some.” And she vanished in a flurry.

It was incredible how quickly his companions surrounded his shoulders.

“That could have gone better,” Boromir stated grimly, clapping his brothers arm. “I approve of the compliment though.”

“How could you possibly hear us over this crowd?”

Merry pulled himself onto a table of desserts, Pippin not far behind with a fruit pie in hand. “You’ve got her all in a tither already.”

“I’m scaring her,” Faramir frowned, trying to glimpse her golden crowned head amongst the wine glasses.

“You’re flustering her, brother, there’s a difference.” Boromir stroked his scruff, observing the surroundings. “We’re going to have to evade her defenses.”

Pippin popped a blueberry, “Back to the ways of the Green Dragon.” The hobbits shared a gleeful glance, skittering off towards the minstrels.

“What are you planning?” Faramir fretted, not wishing to frighten (Y/N) further.

Boromir waved an impatient hand, apparently deep in strategic thought, “It was not my idea. Though a clever one.”

“Must you be so vague.”

The line of fiddlers shifted in their seats, a new merriment in how they held their bows. Their hobbit friends trailed from them, grasping mugs of ale and finding the tallest table they could stand upon.

A quick, rousing tune filled the air and Faramir recognized it immediately as a sort of line dance. One that included trading partners and flying feet.

“Dancing is not…”

“It is exactly how we’ll sneak you into (Y/N)’s arms.” Boromir grasped his brothers shoulders and shoved him towards the forming circle of people. Merry and Pippin were on their stage, beginning a drinking song of the Shire.

He could already see a pale faced Eowyn greeting (Y/N) and gesturing towards the center of the room.

“Excellent,” he muttered, much to Faramir’s anxiety. “Hold her swift and don’t let go.”

A billow of fabric and laughs consumed Faramir, quickly caught by a fellow Gondorian. He looked at her petite frame surprisingly but recognized her friendly face. They danced a few paces, him memorizing the moves before passing her along – this new partner an acquaintance from Rohan.

Clapping and cheering surrounded them, the hobbits hyping the crowd with bellowing lyrics and chugs of ale. Faramir felt himself loosen as he grinned and tapped toes with different partners. He recognized many friends and shared a few laughs, though an old arrow wound flared in his leg.

He spun and found himself in front of (Y/N) – she was flushed from the dancing, but a delighted twinkle was in her eyes. He continued to smile brighter, taking her hand and twirling her as the dance instructed.

A laugh came from her strawberry rouged lips and he relished the noise, less afraid to grasp her waist as they danced about the hall. When the time came for him to pass her to the next soldier, he found himself simply trading places with him.

(Y/N) peered at him with a comical gaze, “That is cheating.”

Faramir shrugged, taking the liberty to twirl her again, “I simply could not let you go.”

This time she did not mind the butterflies in her stomach, choosing to grin back at him instead of running away. They danced like that, Faramir continuing to jump places with the soldiers so she only partnered with him, until the music died away with a flourish.

Everyone clapped, (Y/N) and Faramir included, neither seeming able to remove their eyes from the other.

“Your shawl,” he pointed out. It had fallen on one side and dangled from one arm onto the floor. (Y/N) twirled to grab the end, but Faramir lightly grabbed her shoulders, stopping her, “Allow me.”

He stood behind her, draping the fallen end around her elbow, smoothly linking their arms together as he did so.

She gave him a suspicious brow, though smiled.

“Care for a drink?” And he led her towards the refreshments arm in arm.

Behind them was a rally of stunned cheers from a certain fellowship as they watched the motion.

“Was the summer wine to your liking?” Faramir continued, not wanting the momentum of his confidence to falter.

(Y/N) was still marveling at the smoothness of Faramir’s actions, allowing him the grace of keeping her arm delicately through his. “It was far too sweet. A pity.”

He charmed her, “Perhaps the elven made wine, then? I can attest to its richness – I’m sure you’ll prefer it.”

She nodded, finding herself intrigued by the bubbling drink, golden in the candlelight. It was crisp and tangy on the tongue, a look of delight on her face as she smacked her lips. Faramir watched her, releasing her arm to find a glass for himself.

“It is delicious.”

He grinned, “I’m glad.” And his gaze lingered as she enjoyed her drink. It lingered so much that (Y/N) chose to stare at the bubbles in her hand then at that look. She was correct in believing it reminded her of the King and Queen.

It was a look of devotion.

“Earlier you told me you recognized my crown,” she spoke towards her toes, “What do you recognize it from?”

He settled his wine glass on a nearby table, “It’s Gondorian made – it comes from our family stores.”

(Y/N) grimaced, “Oh, I told Eowyn not to go snooping. I didn’t realize she took it.”

“It is no trouble,” Faramir stated lightly, “It had belonged to my mother.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, “I didn’t realize…” she immediately went to take it off, holding the circlet with a newfound gentleness. “Forgive me.”

“There is no need to return it now.”

She skewed her brow in apology, “This is far too precious an object, I should not be wearing it.” She offered it to Faramir, “Your mother was an honorable woman.”

Faramir held the golden crown with sincerity, gazing at the worn leaves welded upon it. He smiled sweetly, turning to (Y/N) and placing the circlet once more on her head. “My mother would be glad it was worn by someone as strong as her.”

He brushed her hair away, keeping his hands on either side of her face. “There. Beautiful.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth but found herself with no words to say. This time she returned his devoted stare.

“I have found myself growing very fond of you, (Y/N),” he whispered, “It would be shameful to leave this night with your face so apologetic.”

In an instant she was clear of the emotion – it was replaced with mingling shock and another delightful light in her eyes.

“The shame would only be my own; for my own misguided affections – I thought your fondness was only in gratitude for my healing.” That’s when he began to smile, “Then perhaps for the tolerance of your brother.”

He laughed, adoration plain in his features, “Perhaps I do feel those things. But first and foremost has always been for your heart.”

“My heart has always been open to you, Faramir.”

~~~

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Fully Complete 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, general hatred, allusions to death, toyplay, binding/restraint, whipping.

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: Think we got one chapter left after this one but don’t worry, we will eventually have more Birch beyond that.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Wait and you'll see

💀💀💀

Your ankle bent for the fifth time as you entered the small county hospital. Loki kept his hand covertly on your elbow after you jabbed him several times in the ribs on the drive over and noticed the way your eyes searched around. You couldn’t help it. Even if Jerome’s life was in the balance, you wanted nothing more than to be away from this man; if you could call him one.

The halls were sterile and the bright lights added to the sting in your eyes as you were shown to your brother’s room. A motorcycle accident, the nurse said, but Jerome’s bike was destroyed with everything else in your shop. You knew what happened was far from an accident.

His eyes were closed and tubes ran down his arms and across his face. It was a sobering sight. It reminded you of your father’s last months. You dreaded seeing anyone like that ever again. Even if Jerome was a cowardly weasel, even if he let those men trade you like livestock, he was still your kin and he was all you had left of your father.

You wiggled away from Loki and he let you as he pinched you in warning. You went to Jerome’s bedside and glanced over at your escorts. Korg actually showed an ounce of empathy as he stared at the bed.

“Can I have some privacy?” you snarled.

“We’ll be right outside. Don’t think of trying anything,” Loki reproached.

“I just want to be alone with my brother,” you curled your lip, “not everything is about you.”

You waited until you stepped out and you leaned on the bed rail. He looked so frail just laying there with machines pumping life into him. The nurse said he might wake up but they were still waiting. The only good news she had was that the surgery on his spine was successful.

“I don’t forgive you,” you whispered, “I never will but I love you.”

Your eyes pricked and you rolled them to force away the tears. The machines beeped and fanned. You shook your head and gave a grim smile.

“I want to ask how we got here but we know. We knew life would be like this. Daddy said it would. He knew you were gonna be a club man like him and he told you to hold onto your soul. He’d be so disappointed.” You sighed, “Do you know what that man is doing to me? What he’s gonna do?”

You looked away and huffed. You were angry, hurt, but not broken. Not yet.

“I can’t stop him, I know that,” you confessed quietly as you reached for his hand, “I was stupid to think I was different from those other girls. To think I’m above them. No, these men are all the same and we just gotta deal with it.”

You swallowed and pushed yourself up.

“Yeah, yeah, we know what happened to mama. Same thing’ll happen to me now,” you said, “and you’re gonna go see daddy. I hope he’s at peace, I hope you find that too.”

You turned and wiped your wet eyes. You wouldn’t let Loki see you cry. He wouldn’t have that pleasure. You would play along until you could act. You would pretend that you believed Jerome would live. You would fake, you would take, you would survive.

💀

The car ride was silent as you stared out the window. You were quiet, still. Even as Loki’s fingers wandered to your skirt and played with the fabric, you did nothing. You were tired and fighting wasn’t doing nothing but draining your energy. You leaned back and played with the button of the jacket. The clothes were entirely impractical against the winter.

The main road of Birch passed outside your window and Korg drove by the sidestreet where the Victorian house stood. You saw the moniker with Cleopatra and you didn’t need to ask where you were going. You didn’t even wonder why. You knew.

“You think you can behave?” Loki asked, “for your brother’s sake?”

You turned to him and resisted a snarl. You nodded and tensed as he squeezed your leg.

“Darling, I mean it. You go in there and you show the boys how tame you can be,” he smirked, “show off your new clothes.”

“I got it,” you said through gritted teeth, “but you touch my brother again and I will never stop. I won’t stop until you kill me too.”

He raised his head in triumph and flicked your chin with his finger, “we have an understanding, don’t we, darling?”

You turned and reached for the handle. He let you and followed you out smoothly. He was quick to hook his arm around your waist as Korg led the way to the bar and opened the door ahead of you. You entered and focused on keeping one foot in front of the other as your instinct told you to throttle the man at your side.

Your breath caught in your throat as your vision cleared. Steve sat with his girl and Bucky with that waitress he was fucking. You saw in her eye a feeling you knew well. Her and the mousy one shared that brittle complacency. Your sights narrowed at Bucky as you got closer and time seemed to slow.

When you reached the table, Bucky looked over and stood. He smiled between you and Loki, the amusement plain on his face. You felt the flicker inside of you. You couldn’t hold back as you slipped quickly from Loki’s grasp and around the side of the table. You latched onto the front of his jacket. You hit him across the jaw with your fist and were ready to lay another as someone caught your fist.

The voices rose around you as you kicked out and caught him in the stomach as you were wrenched away. You looked up as you growled a slew of curses and found Steve and Loki both clinging to your arms. You continued to flail.

“You fucking piece of shit,” you grunted, “I swear to fucking God, I’m going to end you!”

“What did I say?” Loki hissed as they tried to rein you in.

Bucky was just as fast as he approached you and drew his gun. You didn’t still even as he aimed the muzzle at you and stared down the barrel.

“She’s fucking rabid,” Steve uttered, “Christ.”

“Do it, you fucking bastard!” You spat.

There were no thoughts, no fears, only pure rage as you stomped your feet and tried to wriggle free. You glared back at Bucky as the gun hung before him. He exhaled loudly and put it away.

“You gotta put a leash on that bitch,” Bucky said, “I told you it wasn’t going to be easy.”

“Darling,” Loki said as you yanked against his hold, “that’s enough. Surely you didn’t forget so quickly that yours is not the only life in the balance.”

You looked over at him and blinked. You unballed your hands and stilled. You were stiff as the anger tensed your entire body but you tamped it down with effort. The men slowly released you. You peered around as you seethed, the two women at the table watched you in shock but beneath, you saw intrigue.

You raised your hands in surrender and looked at Bucky. Your jaw locked but you forced the words out. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” he raised his brows as his own anger receded, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” you enunciated, “alright?”

He laughed and looked you up and down dramatically, “didn’t think you’d get this far,” he said to Loki, “she looks like a woman.”

It took everything you had not to try again. You backed away as Loki removed his jacket and you mirrored him. He pulled out a chair and pointed you down with sneer. He sat beside you and rolled his shoulders as he fixed his blazer.

“Apologies for our lateness, we did have to make a detour,” he said, “I promise, I will keep her in line for the rest of the night.”

Bucky poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth, “you better,” he grinned.

You looked to your lap and unbent your fingers as your nails dug into your palm. You peeked around and caught the eye of Bucky’s girl and for a moment you just stared back. She was pensive and tilted her head before she looked away. You might not be entirely alone.

💀

“I am unimpressed with that scene,” Loki hissed as Korg clung to your arm and angled you up the stairs ahead of them, “but I will give you a choice. Do I punish you or your brother?”

You reached the top and turned down the hallway. You entered the bedroom without resistance as the burly toady kept his grasp on you. You turned with him and watched Loki enter.

“I’m sorry, really. I deserve… punishment. Not him,” you said stiffly as you swallowed. The words were like bile in your throat.

“Oh, darling, that is the smartest thing I’ve heard you say,” he slithered, “Korg, get her clothes off.”

You blinked and looked up at Korg. He returned your gaze doubtfully and glanced back at Loki.

“Sir?” he asked.

“You heard me,” Loki said as he went over the chest of drawers and pulled the top one out, “get her naked and put her on the bed.”

“I can do it myself--”

“No, Korg, do as I say and hold her down,” he turned as he held some leather straps and you scrunched your nose as you tried to decipher all the crisscrossing.

“Sir, I--”

“You know I don’t like to repeat myself and I’ve already done so once,” he snapped, “so do it.”

Korg let you go and you bent quickly to undo your boots. He watched you take them off and you put your back to him, “the zipper,” you said quietly. He pushed it down and you held your arms straight as he tugged the sleeves past your wrists. He jerked you unintentionally as the dress gather at your waist and apologized.

You steeled yourself and stepped out of the fabric as it fell to your ankles. It felt like giving up but it was the only way. It was a means to an end. You bit down as Korg fumbled with your bra and stuttered. You reached back to help him and the cleared his throat.

“Hurry up, you fool,” Loki growled.

Korg hesitated as he pushed down your stockings one at a time and then slipped your panties off your hips. He stood and gripped your arm, lighter than before. You let him move you to the bed and Loki stopped him.

“Raise your foot, darling,” he bent and opened the leather straps.

You obeyed and he nodded to the other. You lifted your other foot and put it back down. He pulled it up your legs and zipped the harness up to your waist. The leather straps wounded around your pelvis and thighs but offered no cover, just a strap along your cunt.

“Put her arms back,” Loki demanded as he rose and came around you. He pointed behind you and your wrists were buckled into the cuffs attached to the thickest strap on the harness, your arms bound behind you. “Very good, now on the bed… face down.”

Korg gently guided you down and you wiggled onto the mattress. Loki dismissed him curtly and the door closed, marking a stolid silence. You kept your face away from Loki and tested the resistance of the harness. Even if you could get free, you wouldn’t get far.

“What is the matter, darling?” he taunted as you heard the rustle of fabric.

“You know, trying not to wretch at the thought of you touching me,” you snipped.

“Oh, is that what you think your punishment is?” he mused and the air was cut with the bite of leather before it lashed across your ass, “you’ll be begging for my touch when I’m through.”

You held your breath as he laid another strike and another and your body jostled on the bed with each. You knotted your fingers and every muscle in your body was rigid. You felt the welts rising on your skin but you focused on the pain. It kept you from crying, from thinking. It kept the humiliation from drowning you.

Was it worth it? Could you live with the shame when it was over?”

He stopped as you panted shallowly. He snickered and you heard him moving around again. He tutted and the mattress dipped as he pushed your legs apart. He pulled on the strap along your cunt and slid a smooth, slightly curved object between it and your skin. He tightened the buckle at the back of the harness so that the silicon was snug to your clit.

He poked his finger along it and it began to vibrate. You sucked in your breath as your body responded to the pulsing. He retreated off the bed and you pushed your legs together. That only made the sensation more intense and you tugged desperately at the cuffs as you rolled onto your side.

“It said about twelve hours battery if kept on low,” he said, “just enough to keep you awake but not enough to do much else.”

You bared your teeth as your eyes threatened to roll back and growled. Your feet arched as you bent your legs slightly and tied to shift the vibrator. You crushed your hands as you wiggled onto your back and dug your heels into the mattress.

“I am patient, darling, you’ve helped in that,” he taunted, “but oh, it is worth the wait to see you squirm.”

“Oh, you prick, why don’t you just… get it… over with?” your breaths caught as the toy buzzed against you.

“Where is the fun in that?” he ran his hand down your thigh and you flinched, “and you kept me waiting long enough. You will know the same pain.”

“I fucking hate you,” you sneered as you rocked back and forth and pushed your head back into the bed.

“I know,” he said gleefully, “it makes it all the better.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #birch #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #fully completely #biker boys of birch #mcu #marvel #thor #captain america #avengers #bucky barnes #steve rogers #sequel

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theglitterypages · 3 years

Note

25 and 54 for levi ackerman plzzzz?! ❤❤

Based on Prompt 25 and 54: ( 25. “I’ve never met someone like you.” “Because everyone in this world is different and there isn’t another face like mine? Duh?” )

(54. “Brat, I have nothing to lose.” He touched my head. “Or at least once had nothing to lose.”)

Prompts list

Requested by optamisticsmiles and @geese-goose18

Title: His Worst Nightmare

Pairings: Levi x fem! reader

Summary: You're one of the most skilled Captain of Survey Corps but during one of the expeditipn outside the walls some of your Squad's horses were killed. As a captain you wanted to save them, you knew you can survive outside the walls but your squad may not be able to because all of them are tired so you chose to be left outside the walls and you fend for yourself.

Warnings: None might appear to be a little sad though.

Word Count: 2000+

••••••

“Captain! Most of our horses were crushed by the Titans, we won't be able to meet with Commander Erwin and Captain Levi!”

Your grip on your weapon tightened as you saw the terrified look on your comrades' faces, most of them were young yet skilled but you knew this kind of scenario would really shake them up because this is dead end.

“Take the remaining horses and meet with Commander Erwin!” you shouted as you use your gear so you could slice the Titan's nape. “What the fuck are y'all looking at?! Go before the remaining horses get killed!” four of your subordinates looked at you with tears in their eyes, “We can't leave you here, Captain!” you cussed underneath your breath and swung towards an abnormal titan aimimg for the horses.

“We'll all die if you won't follow my orders. This is not a request, it is an order from your Captain, leave! Now!” You growled as you viciously charged yourself towards the Titan to kill it.

When it fell on the ground, lifeless, you immediately looked behind and a small smile made its way across your lips upon seeing your subordinates ride the remaining horses to save themselves.

You tore your eyes away from them and looked at five Titans charging themselves towards you, you only have one blade left and to say that you're exhausted is understatement, you knew that this is the day where you'll die and you'll embrace your death proudly and wholeheartedly.

Dying to save your young comrades would be the most glorious part of your career as a captain, your young comrades has so much to learn, they still have a lot to know but you've already done your part if you will die in here today your only regrets would be the fact that you can't see Levi in your last breath.

But you heard from your father who's a doctor that once a person dies, they will have flashbacks of their whole life, looking at the brighter side you'd probably see Levi on those flashbacks before you die.

“Let's finish this motherfuckers.”

°°°°°

Levi was obviously anxious as he kept on looking behind him, your squad should be here by this time, you should be tailing them now already but he still can't see you not even a sign of any of your squads.

“Levi, we should go faster.”

“She's still out there, if you want to you can go but I'll wait for her...” he whispered in his shaky voice, before it was so damn easy for him to go on because he had accepted the fact that not everyone could go back alive and he has mastered of masking his grief whenever another comrade has fallen.

But if he's gonna lose you the way he lost his comrades, he would lose his sanity, he would probably go mad once that happens.

“Squads of Captain YN approaching!”

Hope bloomed in Levi's heart as he heard the announcement of your squad's arrival but when he looked back there are only two horses with four people and you're not one of them.

He felt like his heart stopped beating when he tried looking back further but still no sign of you, he decided to shout at your subordinates. “Where is your captain?” he asked in a firm tone and none of them answered.

The teens just looked down and one by one, they broke down into tears. “We're very sorry Captain Levi.” Erwin overheard the conversation and he felt himself go numb. He doesn't want to believe it, he's not losing one of his greatest Captain, not today...

“Can you please stop fucking crying and answer me! Where the fuck is my girl?!”

“She ordered us to leave her, she faced the Titans alone, we're sorry...”

Levi immediately pulled the reins backward, halting the horse from running. “I'm going back for her.” Erwin also halted and looked at Levi as he shook his head.

“By the walls, Levi! We can't afford to lose two of our greatest Captains today. We have to move forward.”

“I'm sorry Erwin. She's the only one that I've got, losing her means I'm nothing.”

“Levi!” Erwin called out but Levi still chose to go back to the forest where you should have been.

As he get closer to the forest his heart beats faster and faster at every moment, his determination of finding you kept him going, he would never leave you, not when you're the only one that he has.

On his way towards the heart of the forest he encountered three Titans and he chose to let out his frustration in killing those three viciously.

When he arrived at the heart of the forest, he immediately looked around, there were no bloods but there's still some remaining of the titans that hasn't evaporated yet.

Which only means one thing;

You're alive.

“Brat!” he exclaimed as he saw your figure laying down on a big branch of tree while you hold your weapons close to you, eyes half closed as you breathe heavily.

You could hear his shouts, he's telling you not to go to sleep but as much as you want to do it your eyelids felt heavy, you can feel him gently slapping your cheeks in attempting of waking you but it obviously doesn't work.

“You can't close your eyes, no. Please baby, don't. We made a promise didn't we? You need to stay with me, you promised to stay with me.”

Levi kept you close in his chest as he rides his horse, he silently prayed that there would be no more titans to appear because dealing with them wouldn't be his priority, he has to make sure you'll get back safe, your head was wounded and he's not sure of how serious the injury was so he did what he could and used his shirt as a bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Lev..”

“Just hang in there, don't sleep. I'll tell you stories so don't close your eyes and hold onto me tightly huh? Can you do that for me baby?” he begged tears streaming down his cheeks, the way you called out his name sounded so weak and every time that he'll look at you, he could see your eyes closed and fear filled his heart, something he has never felt years before meeting you.

After his friends died, he made himself tough, promised not to get attached again so he wouldn't have to lose his mind over and over again whenever he lose a comrade but you came along, he wanted to blame Erwin and Hanji for introducing you to him but he actually would thank them, because he never felt this way before.

The way you made him feel at ease, every time you'll hug him he feels contented and peaceful and whenever he feels your lips on his it is his paradise and his days without you in his side is hell.

So he couldn't afford to lose you now, not today not forever.

“I—I love you, Levi. Take care of yourself for me hmm? I'm sorry if I—”

“I'm not listening so whatever you want to say, say it to me when we get back inside the walls.”

Of course, he can hear you clearly but he's not strong enough to hear you say those words he doesn't want to hear you saying that you love him as if you're saying goodbye and that's not what he wants.

“Lev, I'm tired.”

“Baby just hold on, don't leave me please. I'm begging you.”

As he bursted into tears, his mind was filled with memories of you and him together.

Flashback

“Once we eliminated all of the titans, I would open a book shop and I will read for the rest of my life.”

“Where am I in your plans, brat?” he asked his arms wrapped around you as you rested your head in his hard chest. “You would be spending your days sitting beside me while I read.” you playfully said, pressing your lips in his jaw.

Levi looked down at you with a smirk, “That's not so bad but we should open a teashop with a bookshop inside it so people can read and drink tea.” you chuckled. His love for tea is really strong and to be honest there are four of you in this relationship.

Tea, Books, you and Levi.

Well at least there's no other girls, there's just tea and his cleaning obsession, “We'll do that and I'll tell Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Connie and Sasha to stay with us. I will be making apple pies and they would love it.” you've grown fond of the teens from the 104th, probably because you've seen how they've grown, how the playful teenagers became brave soldiers ready to fight for the humanity.

And you really want this nightmare to end so those kids would have the normal life, “I didn't know we're also planning to open an orphanage now.” he said, sarcasm perfectly implied.

“Quit talking as if you don't like them.”

“If you want children we can make a lot.” he playfully dipped his head down to press his lips on yours and you hold onto his hair as you returned his kisses, when he pulled away, his grey eyes were sparkling as a small smile made its way across his lips.

“God, I’ve never met someone like you.”

“Because everyone in this world is different and there isn’t another face like mine? Duh?”

Levi stared at you, left dumbfounded of how you sassily replied to his heartwarming statement, “You're picking up my attitude, it's alarming.” he sighed pinching your nose as you slapped his hand away.

“Your fault not mine.” You glared with a pout.

End of Flashback

“You can't sleep because our brats are waiting, Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Jean, Sasha and Connie is waiting for us to be back. We'll still eliminate the titans right? We have so much plans baby, don't leave me please.”

“I'm sorry Levi.”

°°°°°°

“Captain...” Levi lazily looked back at him just to see Armin standing awkwardly as he rubbed his nape, “You should eat and go get some sleep.” Armin told him politely, the blond teen doesn't want to make the Captain mad especially he knows what Levi is going through.

“No. Leave my office now.”

“Captain, we know that it's not easy but you can't sacrifice your health.” Eren appeared bebind Armin and soon after, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie and Jean appeared, each one of them carrying different kind of food but Sasha is holding a container of water because the others forbid him in bringing the food, knowing that she might get tempted to eat it.

“Leave me alone and let me work in my office quietly loud brats. None of you knows what I feel.”

“We do. You're not the only one who's sad, we missed Captain YN too but this is beyond our control. The least we can do is to take care of you because we know that she wouldn't want you to be like this.” Mikasa said, her voice devoid of any emotions as she walked towards the Captain as she placed down a tray of food on top of his table.

“We believe that you're old enough to eat by yourself and we wouldn't have to shove that spoon on your mouth just so you could eat.” Mikasa looked at the Captain blankly and when Levi looked up at her, he narrowed his eyes.

“It's really scary how you sounded like me some times, fine, I'll eat so you brats would shut up.”

The teens' faces lit up as they watch Levi eat, he still doesn't look like his usual self because of what happened but they're all not fine but they also knew that they will be.

“Levi! Captain YN is awake.” Hanji said in between hear breaths, Levi didn't respond and left his unfinished food while the teens followed him, running so they could match his pace.

Levi opened the door of the room and he saw you sitting on the bed, the bandage was still on your head, there was a clueless look on your face when your gaze landed at him and Levi immediately ran to hug you tightly.

You let out a sound of surprise and Levi pulled away thinking that he hurt you. “I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened to us? Do you want some water?” you smiled and shook your head, your gaze landed at the flower vase beside your table and Levi saw how your eyes sparkled when you saw the white Carnation.

“I recognize this flower...” you whispered in a soft voice, you reached out for the flower vase before glancing at the man next to you.

“But I don't know you. Who are you?”

The moment you said that, the teens arrived and they heard everything you said. You heard their gasps and you innocently looked up at them, “Hello kiddos, the nurse told me that I've been out for two weeks. I think I missed something, this man suddenly came in here to hug me.” Armin felt cold sweats on his forehead, he doesn't have any idea how to handle this situation especially they saw how heartbroken Levi is.

“Captain, he's your—” before Jean could even finish his sentence, Levi already cut him off, “Leave, brats. Let me talk to her alone.” you frowned at him before glancing at the kids, “Sir, you're not even suppose to be here. Why are you asking them to leave? I know them.” Eren didn't have to hear Levi's reply to you, he just dragged his friends away from that room, scared of what would happen next.

The room was filled with deafening silence after the teens left, Levi was looking down as his breathing got heavier at every minute that passes by while you were still sat on the bed still looking at him cluelessly.

“You don't have to remember me, just let me take care of you, this is better than losing you completely.” he whispered as he took the flower vase from you, placing it back to where it was. “Do you remember anything aside from the kids? Like how you got injured?” he spoke in a calmest way he could even if he's damn broken inside, the first thing he had imagine once you wake up is you hugging him, telling him that you're not leaving him just like what you've promised but here he is sitting on a chair beside your bed while you don't remember him.

When he didn't get any response from you he decided to stand up as his grey eyes got dulled again, it lost the sparks it has earlier.

“You're probably uncomfortable of having a stranger here. I'll go get the nurse.” he turned his back on you to leave but he heard your voice.

“Levi Ackerman, you'll just leave your girlfriend like this then?”

It only took him three seconds to return to where he was, his arms immediately wrapped around yours as he sobbed on the crook of your neck. “I was at the end of my wits, the whole world can forget about me but not you. Don't pull that shit again.” he scolded, you wanted to chuckle or laugh but you couldn't because you heard his sobs, he's like a child as he hug you tightly as if scared that you'll suddenly disappear.

You slowly pushed him away and wiped away his tears as you comb his hair, brushing off some strands of his hair that's hiding his eyes from you. “Sorry, it was a joke and it's obviously not funny.” Levi sighed as he closed his eyes before a low chuckle escaped from his lips, “I can't believe you even picked up my terrible sense of humour.” he whispered weakly as he pulled you close for another hug. For two hellish weeks he drowned himself in paperworks and in between those times he'll be looking after you while you sleep and it drained him a lot.

“You lost weight.” you stated. You memorized every inch of Levi's body and 2 weeks of being unconscious wouldn't change that fact, you knew that he lost weight, those dark circles around his eyes also suggests the fact that he didn't have lots of sleep.

“You scared me.”

“Where was the guy who told me once that he has nothing to be afraid of 'cause he got nothing to lose?” you brows raised and Levi rolled his eyes before leaning in to kiss you quickly.

“Brat, I have nothing to lose.” He touched your head, his grey eyes looking down on yours as a genuine smile made its way across his lips. “Or at least once had nothing to lose.” he whispered before cupping your face for another kiss, much longer than the first ones, it was also slower as if he's still trying to make sure that everything is real, he's still trying to make sure that his worst nighmare wouldn't happen.

His nightmare where he lost you.

#aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #aot x you #captain levi #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x y/n #attack on titan #levi ackerman fluff #levi x you #reader insert #snk x you #snk x y/n #snk levi #aot levi

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thesunshinebunny · 3 years

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part I)

Series Master list

Pairing: Canon Eren Jaeger x reader

Content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

Summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter Summary: After watching their teammates die in battle, reader begins to question their sanity and of their so-called partner.

AN: let me say goodbye to my favorite girl, who got me the best laughs and relieved my anxiety while reading manga chapters. At the same time, let me succumb to the misery and enlarge the wound with an canon Eren. I won’t be against following this fic if I see that a lot of people like it, but my list of fandoms isn’t going to change, this will be a unique exception.

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The chill in the air from the airship rushed through my veins. Less than two hours ago, I had seen countless comrades die, each one of them struck by bullets in different parts of their bodys or eaten by a Titan. I had seen countless lives fall and had been unable to save any. I knew we were going on a suicide mission, but deep down inside of me, I hoped we would all come home alive.

I was very naïve to think of a happy ending in this rotten and violent world.

Inside the room I was in, my mind wandered looking through one of the few windows this war machine gave us. I wasn't paying attention to what Levi or Eren were saying, I didn't even have the slightest intention of asking why Zeke was with us. Although being a member of the Survey Corps and a direct and in training medic, I was not fully informed of the missions. Eren’s courtesy.

Bored and mentally tired, I left the room where my leaders were having a heated discussion with "humanity's last hope." I didn't have the strength to add more charcoal to the fire, but trust me when I tell you I wasn’t at all happy with Eren's plan, simply and exclusively because I was completely unaware.

I walked down the hall making a mental note to kick the brunette in the face like Levi did when we got back. If my so-called partner, who had the decency to slowly push me away over the last year without explanation, wasn’t confident enough to tell me whatever was going on in his mind, then we would be in front of the doors of a serious conversation back home.

I opened the door where the scouts were when I heard a rifle go off. My eyes went wide and fear washed over me. I instantly scanned my body for wounds, completely ignoring the situation happening in front of me. Finding no sign of impact, I looked up only to find Sasha falling on her back, with a bullet impact on her chest.

The world seemed to have frozen as did my body. No one was able to move. Blood was spreading around Sasha's body, staining the floor, and that's when I reacted. My body moved on its own, pulling the cloak off my shoulders and folding it to make a small pillow. My ears didn’t catch any screams or cries from my teammates, as if I was underwater and the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat accelerating, threatening to come out of my ears.

"I need a syringe with anesthesia, a pair of tweezers, a needle, a lighter, bandages and hot water, NOW !!"

No one was moving, everyone was in shock, including me, but I was layered enough to know that if we didn't do something, Sasha wasn't going to survive.

"Jean, Connie, I need surgical elementes! NOW!!"

The two boys came out of it, running around the room, even going to the continuous, looking for something that might serve, while I tore Sasha's shirt and took her equipment. Mikasa was next to me grabbing the pieces that were in the way.

"Mikasa, I need you to put pressure on the wound and don’t move your hands"

Connie came running back with the anesthesia in hand, trying to give it to me, but me failing. The syringe fell to the floor, but thanks to whatever deity was watching us it didn't break. My hands were shaking with adrenaline, making it impossible for me to inject the needle into the glass vial.

“Sasha… I need you to stay awake, ok? I need you to keep your eyes open at all time"

The dying girl in front of me didn't give me an answer, but I knew she heard me. In the background, I could hear the desperate cries of the others, apart from the fact that someone had hit the culprit in the face. I injected the anesthesia and proceeded to remove the bullet from the lung. Mikasa reapplied pressure with wet cloths.

"Sasha everything will be fine, I assure you, everything will be fine, so don't you dare die on me, okay?"

I couldn't tell who I was addressing those words to, the girl who gave us the best laughs in our training days, or me.

Lighter in hand I proceeded to cauterize the wound, but my eyes fell on Sasha's, noticing how the life had left her eyes. The light that was so bright in her pupils had faded, leaving nothing more than an empty countenance.

"Sasha?...Sasha? hey, this isn’t funny, Sasha wake up…Sasha?? SASHA?!!?!" ...

"SASHA!!!"

Again.

Again I’d been unable to do anything.

Again I’d to see how I was unable to save someone.

Again.

I had seen a mate die. Again.

My chest contracted, the air was impossible to get in or out and my lungs cried out to explode. My stomach wanted to regurgitate, but there was nothing in it, causing me to spasm. My vocal cords were damaged from screaming and my head was about to collapse.

My whole body was about to collapse.

"How dare you!? You son of a bitch, how dare you to shoot the person who forgave your life?"

My anger was now directed at the child they had wanted to bring with us. It was impossible for me to look at her without having the desire to break her face, to make her suffer ... to kill her. To take revenge for Sasha.

“SHE FORGAVE YOUR LIFE BY NOT GIVING YOU A SHOT IN THE HEAD AND IS THAT HOW YOU PAY HER? YOU HATE US SO MUCH? HOW MANY MORE LIVES DO YOU WANT TO TAKE FOR US TO BE SATISFIED?"

My legs got up, leading me towards the girl, but arms held me from behind, preventing me from continue walking, preventing me from taking revenge.

"HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU? YOU ARE THE REAL DEVILS"

In the end, my body collapsed, completely loosening and causing me to almost slide down Connie's arms. I fell to my knees when he released me, snuggling up and hiding my head in my arms. Tears flowed like waterfalls with no intention of stopping and my screams reverberated across the metal in the room.

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Connie opened the door where our commanders were still arguing. Both with tears in our eyes gave the worst news of the night.

"Sasha died"

Jean and Hange's faces were disfigured and Levi hid his grim outline from us. The room was silent, but all that could be heard were my sobs, spasm after spasm.

"She had a ... a bullet impact ... in ... in the chest ..."

It was difficult, almost impossible, for me to relate the precarious medical report of our friend's death, trying to help me with the movement of my hands ... but even so the spasms won me over. I fell back to the floor, tears invaded my face once more and my ability to articulate words was gone down the drain.

Hange approached with a slow step and placed their hands on my shoulders, giving me the help I needed to give the report. I took several minutes of deep breaths and when my lungs returned to normal, I spoke again.

"Sasha had a bullet impact on the chest, on the left lung ... There was no exit, so the bullet was stuck in there...it pierced two ribs, tearing the skin of the lung and causing internal bleeding... I managd to remove the bullet, but I didn't have time to cauterize and sew the wound ... she bled to death"

Every pause I took to breathe made it so much worse for me to speak back. If it weren't for the fact I was undoubtedly taking deep breaths, I would have passed out from distress and hyperventilation.

"I could have saved her ... I know I could have saved her"

Silence reigned over the room, sobs from Hange and Connie could be heard if we were paying close attention. Jean and Levi glared at Eren, who had not deigned to lift his head at any time.

I got up as best I could, running Hange's hands gently, and left the room once again. I needed to be alone for a while, I needed to let go of these horrible feelings, I needed some air, otherwise I doubted I’d do anything rational in the state I was in.

My legs led me to a room away from all the common ones. It was empty, but it had a couple of windows that chilled the already cold metal walls. Some windows were at my height, allowing me to appreciate the view from the air, but let's face it, it was impossible to appreciate the landscape when your mind and heart were breaking to pieces. The only thing that kept my mind intact from any collapse was the path of smoke and fire that could be seen in the distance... signs that Marley was still on fire.

"Are you ok?"

That familiar voice, all too familiar, echoed in my ears pulling me out of my entrance. Eren had entered the room quietly with the aim of… what? See if it was okay? Because I really wasn't, it showed on my face and that's what made me even more angry than I was.

"Oh, I don't know? Am I ok? Do I FUCKING LOOK OK TO YOU?"

I turned from the window too quickly causing me to stagger and fall to the floor. My head was spinning and starting to ache as was every muscle in my body. I put my hands to my head, hoping the pain would dissipate a bit, but the only thing I managed was to sink further into misery.

"I could have saved her ... if I’d been faster ... I know I could have saved her"

He hadn't moved from where he was, he just stayed there, looking at me. My blood-soaked eyes looked him up and down searching for something, whatever, to speak of, but all I found were non-glare eyes and a neutral gaze, as if he hadn't cared how many lives this mission had claimed.

"Do you want to know how I feel? Fine, I’ll tell you"

I stood up heavily, my muscles begging for a break. I turned my head to see the black smoke rising on the horizon, still clearly noticing an orange and red flare.

“I am tired…I am full of rage and hate. I saw our comrades die and I couldn't do anything, I was unable to save them ... to save Sasha...and all because of not having been informed like everyone else"

My eyes hadn't left the window because I knew, if I looked into those dull turquoise eyes, those same eyes that once shone with all the innocence and life that a young man could have, I would end up punching him.

"Are you happy? Did you accomplished your mission now that you have the power of the warhammer titan? What will be the next step? Go back to Marley in a few months, finish what you started and devour the jaw titan and Reiner? Assassinate the cart titan?”

Again, I got no response. My patience had already reached it’s limit and I looked back at the man who was now standing in the middle of the room.

"You're not going to tell me, are you? No, you never say anything to me, it's like I'm a burden to you" I shuffled on the metal, standing right in front of him "I'm with so much anger in my veins that I want to kill a child, a child Eren! ... A child who had her head washed all her life, a child who doesn’t know the whole truth and who only knows that by killing she can be free"

Unconsciously, my body moved everywhere, as if it wanted to release all the pressure by tiring the muscles. I stood back in front of the window and with all the accumulated anger I gave it a strong blow, slightly scratching the glass and probably breaking some knuckles.

"Sasha died because of my incompetence and the violence of this world...I want to save lives Eren, that's why I'm practicing medicine...I want to dedicate myself to saving souls, not killing them...and we have the culprit stuck in one of our rooms...why?" ...

“WHY DO WE HAVE TWO CHILDS ON OUR AIRPLANE? WHY IS YOUR BROTHER WITH US? WHY DON'T YOU LET ME KNOW WHAT IS GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD?"

I was sure that my screams could be heard by our entire war machine. I was impatient for answers, but knew I wasn't going to get any, at least not now. My hands didn’t remain calm, they moved everywhere, a sign of my anxiety and my eyes turned around the entire room, looking at each screw, each metal beam... everything except the eyes of my supposed lover.

I was giving up, now I just wanted to rest and have a trip home in peace, even knowing that home was not going to sound the same or feel the same.

"If you have nothing to say Eren, you better leave"

I turned my back on him but didn't proceed to walk away from him. I needed to find an anchor point so as not to give up and throw myself into the arms that one day gave me warmth, the arms that wrapped me in the dark, the arms that reflected their love and affection ... into the arms that now wouldn't hold me from the waist or draw me to his chest. I wasn't going to throw me into some arms that weren't going to contain me.

I heard him take a few small steps towards me and his hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I put it aside abruptly and I distanced myself towards the remote window, seeing how little by little the smoke was getting smaller and I could no longer see the orange flame clearly; now I could only see a thin yellow line fading.

"Leave Eren"

His footsteps rumbled on the metal floor, leaving me alone once and for all.

The trip back was going to be a long one and, to be honest, I wasn't sure if there was anything for me in our home. Nothing was going to be the same anymore. Without Sasha, without Eren and with a war on our feet I doubted to even call “home” a piece of wet land in the middle of an ocean which is still the target of a world full of hate.

#aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #sasha blouse #angst #eren smut

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

1. Soulmates AU please! It is definitely my guilty pleasure trope

hello im only three months ish late maybe four but this is also 3.4k long and it's just wild i mean we're talking soul mates, superheroes, rushed world building, superhero names this is a trip this is something i wrote after waking up from a four hour nap this ever had a chance and also it's sad

1. Soul Mates (+ 42. Star Crossed Lovers)

“You shouldn’t have come,” Obi-Wan says harshly, pulling the children--they’re just goddamn children--into his apartment and slamming the door behind them. “Did anyone see you?”

The children--all four of them--stay quiet. Obi-Wan wants to wring their necks. He knows why they’re here. He’d rather them die on the streets than suffer through what they’re obviously here about.

But if that were really true, he would have just left them on his doorstep.

“Did anyone see you?” he asks again.

“Not that we noticed,” one of the girls in the middle says. Shili, dressed in a blue and white striped sensible jumpsuit and sporty cape. The leader of the new generation of superheroes and she sounds like she hasn’t even hit puberty yet.

Obi-Wan is suddenly very, very tired.

“Kam,” Shili gestures to the person next to her and a little behind, a tall boy with a helmet covering his face and white and blue armor covering the rest of him, “says he didn’t pick up anything with his sensors. We were safe. We’re not trying to get you caught, sir. We just need to talk to you.”

“You could kick us out,” the other girl points out, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s not even bothering to wear a domino mask, but Obi-Wan doubts very much he’s looking at her real appearance. She’s Mirial, of course.

Which makes the other boy in a padded white and orange suit Mando. Four of the fifty or so remaining Jedi superheroes are in his house.

Obi-Wan sighs and turns to pad down the hallway. “Shoes off,” he calls behind his shoulder. “And does anyone want any tea?”

“No thank you,” Shili responds politely, falling into step behind him.

“Sit,” he tells them roughly when he notices the four of them standing awkwardly in his cramped dining room. “Sit down.”

He puts the kettle on anyway, and bangs around the cabinets for a few seconds to find an unopened bag of chips and a sleeve of probably stale cookies.

He doesn’t have much else to offer them though. Not now.

Weren’t you the one always telling me to eat my vegetables? A laughing voice murmurs into his ear. Look at you now.

Obi-Wan has to stand for a second in his small and dirty kitchen, chips clutched in one hand and cookies in the other, and breathe for an impossibly long moment.

This is why he had not wanted to ever see another Jedi in his life. All they brought with them were questions and ghosts.

Obi-Wan has enough of those as it is.

The kettle goes off and he pours the hot water into his mug. The cowardly part of him that hasn’t faced a fight in ten years now wants to wait here until the tea has finished steeping and then think of a thousand other excuses to not ever leave the kitchen again. He's good at thinking of excuses. He calls them reasons and lives his life with them.

But he has always known someone would eventually come looking for answers. That had always been one of the prices he knew he would eventually have to pay.

He notices immediately upon entering the dining room that they’ve saved him a seat, if it counts as saving someone a seat when they’ve rearranged the chairs so one is on one side of the table and the other two are squeezed opposite it.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought snacks to my own interrogation,” he says blithely, depositing them onto the table in front of the children.

Kamino stares intently at them for a second, and then nods once to Shili, who reaches out to open the bag of chips. In a show of good faith, she takes one and eats it. Obi-Wan can’t see her eyes underneath the white lenses of her domino mask, but he’s quite sure she hasn’t stopped looking at him once.

“Are you sure you do not want tea, now we have established I am not going to poison you?” he asks, crossing his ankles and taking a sip from his own mug.

“It’s a bit too warm out there for hot tea,” Mirial says disdainfully, looking at her nails. “You know, what with the world on fire.”

“But I’d take an iced one, if you have it,” Shili leans forward.

Obi-Wan pauses, drink halfway to his mouth.

He sets it down gently on the wood of his table. “Ah. Going straight in, aren’t we?”

“There’s not much time for anything else,” Mando says, and at least he sounds a bit apologetic.

“A weighty statement from someone who can manipulate time itself,” Obi-Wan hums.

“Only for a few seconds,” Mando mutters behind his helmet, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That’s because you don’t have much in the way of training, young man,” Obi-Wan tells him gently with a hint of steel behind it “Back in my day--”

He cuts himself off. He doesn’t know why. Clearly, they know who he used to be. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. He’s really just delaying the inevitable, but his throat feels tight. This truth, so long unspoken, is hard to drag into his mouth. And yet, every second he doesn’t speak it, it’s bashing itself to death against the backs of his teeth.

“Would you like us to tell you what we’ve found out about your days?” Mirial asks, looking up from her nails. “Would that make it easier for you, Ilum?”

“Meer--” Shili starts to say, reaching out to touch the girl’s arm, rein her in, but it’s too late.

The planes of Mirial’s face change and shift and suddenly for the first time in ten years, Anakin Skywalker is sitting across from him. “Would you like to talk about the old days, or would you like me to talk about the old days?” Mirial in Anakin’s smooth baritone asks.

It’s cruel. It’s so cruel that for a second Obi-Wan wishes his heart could just stop from the pain of it all. “Please put that away,” he tells the tabletop coldly. “And please. Do not call me that.”

“Meer,” Shili murmurs, and there’s a shift in the air.

When Obi-Wan looks back up, Mirial is back to the way she always appears in press releases, green skin and all. “That was a decent impression,” he tells her. She bristles at the perceived slight, but he holds up his hand. “But when I knew him, his eyes weren’t gold. They were blue.”

“Mustafar has had golden eyes since he joined the Imps,” Mirial argues back in a way that reminds Obi-Wan of another young teenager, who never could learn how to take criticism well.

“And he was someone else before then,” he tells the girl. “He had another name and he had a mother and he had a soulmate and a--fiancee and everything.”

His hands have started to shake, so he clasps the mug tightly, though it burns him.

“Tell us,” Shili insists forcefully but compassionately. Obi-Wan had wondered before why they had chosen to make the girl whose only ability is to fly the leader of the newest Jedi team, but it must be that. It must be her compassion. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I know. I’m the only one who is left. But if I am to demask myself, I will not do it to a table of strangers.”

The children turn to look at each other. Kamino cocks his head at Shili, who inclines her own head. Mirial shrugs. Mando shakes his head once, but Shili seems to override him, because she turns back to Obi-Wan and takes off her domino mask.

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she says, stumbling over the name. Obi-Wan wonders how many times she’s unmasked herself before. “Or Shili.”

She nudges Mirial, who sighs. “I’m Barriss,” she tells him grudgingly.

Kamino takes off his helmet to reveal a strong-jawed boy with a blond buzzcut. “His name is Rex,” Ahsoka says. “He can’t speak except through minds.”

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise at this. He had known that Kamino had an advanced sense of the senses, could tell something’s molecular makeup just by looking at it, could smell a gas leak from two miles away, etcetera, etcetera, but he hadn’t known the boy could communicate telepathically as well.

“And I’m his twin,” Mando sighs, taking off his own helmet and revealing a startlingly similar face, marred by a scar just across his temple. “Cody.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Obi-Wan tells them, drumming his fingers on the table. “You know already. I fought under the name Ilum. I could--”

He searches for words to describe his own powers, and settles instead on a demonstration. With a flick of his hand, the liquid in the mug rises and freezes into a miniature wave, suspended in the air.

He lets the ice drop into the mug, and inclines his head to Ahsoka. “Iced tea?” he asks wryly.

“Tell us about Mustafar,” Mando demands. What a heavy thing to carry, Obi-Wan finds himself thinking. The knowledge of all that time.

What Obi-Wan wouldn’t give to be ten years younger again. Not to even change anything, though he would be stupid to not try to. But to just enjoy the moment for what it had been in the end: just a moment.

“We didn’t call him that then,” Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “We called him Iego in uniform, and Anakin in civvies.

“He was...radiant. In battle and off the field. I was the leader of our team for six years until Anakin came along. And I just knew as soon as I saw him that he would take everything from me. But he wouldn’t have had to take it. I would have given it to him right then.”

“I didn’t think he was that attractive,” Ahsoka mumbles, and then slaps a hand over her mouth as if afraid she’s spoken out of turn and ruined the story so completely that Obi-Wan won’t say anything else.

Instead, Obi-Wan laughs but it doesn’t sound much like a laugh at all. “Well, to each is his own, of course,” he says when he thinks the hysteria has worn off. “And finding out he carried my soul mark certainly helped.”

The room is blissfully silent, which Obi-Wan is beyond thankful for. He just wants to let those never-before admitted truths hang in the air, just for a few more seconds. He almost wants to say them again actually. Anakin Skywalker is my soulmate. Anakin Skywalker carries the same mark I carry, and he always has.

“But…” Barriss says slowly, “But Mustafar’s soulmark is on his neck.”

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan murmurs, staring at the wall behind their heads. “What he has on his neck is an ice burn scar in the shape of a hand. In the shape of my hand. His actual soul mark is on his mid-back, right over his spine.”

“You tried to kill your soulmate?” Ahsoka gasps, looking horrified.

Obi-Wan smiles with no joy behind it. “I tried to save the world,” he corrects her gently.

“You said earlier…” Cody speaks up. “That Mustafar--that Anakin had a fiancee. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “I never told him. I...couldn’t. I wanted to wait I suppose. I. Well. My soulmark is identical to his, but it’s on my thigh. And. You know what they say about a soulmatch whose marks aren’t in the same spot.” “Star crossed,” Ahsoka whispers.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirms. “I decided to wait. I was a few years older than him, he had so much to learn, he needed a friend more than he needed a soulmate. I had a long list of reasons, all as iron-clad as the next. But they were excuses. I was afraid. This man, my soulmate, could control fire and sunlight itself. He burned with passion, shone with power. And I...I was cold. Too pragmatic, too quick to criticize when he needed praise. The marks were just marks. Maybe they fit together, maybe they matched. But I was terrified that we wouldn’t.

“And by the time I thought to tell him, he came to find me instead. He was in love, he said. He had been seeing a girl for months and was going to ask her to marry him. And I suppose I must have asked about his soulmate, because he told me he would rather never know his soulmate, if knowing meant losing her.”

So. So Obi-Wan had let him go, though that part doesn’t make for a good story. He had distanced himself as much as he could get away with, which is not much really, seeing as how Iego and Ilum fought best when they fought together.

But in the end, his heartbreak had been too much, even for someone as cold as Obi-Wan had been known to be. He’d put in for a temporary transfer. A remedial medical leave, a Jedi-sanctioned sabbatical so he could ostensibly connect with himself and his powers. Nothing longer than a year.

You’ll miss the wedding, Anakin had told him, heartbreak shining in his own eyes.

But his heartbreak had been nothing compared to Obi-Wan’s, and so he had left. He had needed to. It had felt like rending his soul in two, but he had.

Two weeks into his stay at a different Jedi training base, Obi-Wan had died in an explosion. “That hadn’t been Jedi sanctioned,” he tells the children in front of him wryly. “We thought it was an accident at the time, but there were too many coincidences. Too many casualties.” But Obi-Wan’s death had been the only casualty Anakin had felt. It hadn’t mattered that someone had managed to restart his heart only a few minutes later. He had died. He had died and Anakin had felt his soulmate die. He had burned his fiancee in his own uncontrollable agony. She had not survived Obi-Wan’s death, even though Obi-Wan himself had.

“I...I don’t know what happened. Still. It’s been years and I have thought of little else. She may have been standing too close to him when it happened. Or...the house may have caught on fire and she was trapped inside. Or...I don’t know. I don’t know,” he spreads his hands palm up on the table and looks at the faces of the children.

He sighs and continues. There is so little left in the story now. “The Jedi Order decided to tell the press that there had been no survivors, though there had been a few. We couldn’t know if the Imperials were behind the attack or not, so we had to be careful. The survivor’s families were told, and their soulmates. Officially, I had no family. I had...no soulmate. They didn’t tell anyone I had survived. Ilum died in that explosion. Still to this day, he's dead.

“Anakin had always been absurdly powerful...and dangerous. He’d killed the love of his life, had felt his soulmate dying, and then...heard that I too had died. The first two had destabilized him, but my death and the Jedi Order’s staunch rejection of his request to see my body, to give me a funeral...it made him even more vulnerable to outside manipulation.”

“The Imperials….” Cody murmurs.

Obi-Wan nods, lip curling up. “The Imperials,” he agrees. “The timeline is fuzzy. I spent a good part of these weeks partially dead, one foot in both worlds. I didn’t know what was going on. When I was well enough to watch the news, the Jedi told me there was a new super villain working with the Imperials, going by the name Mustafar. I trained to kill him as he was helping the Imps decimate the Jedi. All of my old team was dead. Anakin was missing. I didn’t--”

He cuts himself off and runs a hand down his face. The children are waiting on his words. He’s telling them why they’re fighting wars adults should be fighting. He’s telling them why they’re out in the field after only a month or less of training. He’s trying to tell them why he isn’t out there fighting with them, but he knows already they won’t accept his excuses.

They shouldn’t have to.

“They gave me a new uniform and a new name,” Obi-Wan picks up the story. “Hoth. And I went off to kill my soulmate.”

“But you didn’t,” Barriss says, and she sounds vaguely confused and vaguely accusatory.

“I almost did,” Obi-Wan admits, like it’s a sin, like it's salvation. “Everything about him was different. He was not the passionate but warm boy I had known. He was a forest fire. A volcano. And Mustafar’s fighting style was completely different from Iego’s. I only realized it was Anakin--my Anakin--when I managed to knock his mask off. I had my hand around his throat, but when I realized who I was fighting...I let go. I couldn’t kill him. Even after everything he did. Even knowing...knowing Iego was gone.”

The dining room is silent for a second, before three voices burst out angrily at once.

“Why aren’t you helping the Jedi?” Ahsoka asks the loudest. “Hoth--Ilum, Obi-Wan. We need you. Mustafar--the Imperials...they’re not going to stop. They’ve killed so many Jedi. We need you to help us.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. “I cannot.”

“You used to be a hero,” Barriss accuses. “Now what are you? A hollowed out, sad man.”

“I was never a hero,” he snaps. “I followed orders. Anyone can do that.”

“You were the best,” Cody says quietly, cutting Obi-Wan to the bone. “You led the Geonosis team for six years. I studied you in class. You were...the best.”

“I wasn’t,” Obi-Wan disagrees just as quietly. “But perhaps you all are.”

“You haven’t even told us any weakness we could use against him in battle!” Barriss shouts, standing up suddenly, which causes the chair to clatter over. “You’ve been no help at all! I’m leaving, this is a waste of time!”

“Barriss--!” Ahsoka cries after the girl, grabbing her discarded mask and taking after her.

Cody opens his mouth and then closes it. He jams the helmet back onto his head. “The soulmark. You said it’s on his hip?”

Obi-Wan smiles mirthlessly. Cody is trying to see if he can catch him in a lie, if this is actually good tactical information or not. “It’s a few inches below his shoulder blades, right over his spine.”

Cody nods once and then files out, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the room with the silent, still helmetless Rex.

“I just told him how to kill my supervillain soulmate,” Obi-Wan tells Rex, even though he’s really talking to himself. “Soulmarks, even dead ones, are extremely sensitive. If Anakin had hit me with his fire on my other thigh, I would be dead. Not just crippled. Muscle, young man, doesn’t grow back easily.”

He rubs a hand over the leg in question, staring down at the uneven way his pants lay over the old injury. It aches from the walking he’s forced it to do today, from trying to walk normally im front of these powerful strangers.

Rex taps the table to get him to look up, and then gestures to his own eyes.

“I?” Obi-Wan asks, confused.

Rex rolls his eyes and then mimes writing something.

“Ah, there should be a pen and pad in the kitchen?” he trails off as the teenager goes to retrieve the aforementioned things.

It takes a second longer than it should, and he comes out carrying just a slip of paper with his helmet forced back onto his head.

With a flick of his fingers, the paper’s lying on the table and Rex is following his teammates out the door and out of Obi-Wan’s apartment and hopefully out of his life forever.

Curious, Obi-Wan grabs the note and unfolds it to read.

We thought Musta. had yel. eyes because all the top Imps have yel. eyes. But if Ankn had blue eyes, then mybe none of the imps should have yel eyes.

No one knows what sidious power is -> what if it’s mind control?

Obi-Wan puts the note down onto the table with shaking hands. He wishes desperately he had never read it.

Because those words plant a seed of hope in his chest he isn’t sure he’ll be able to live without now.

What if Anakin--his Anakin--what if he’s in there still? What if Obi-Wan had abandoned him to ten years of brainwashing and mind control with not much of a fight at all?

But more pressingly, what if there’s hope for him? For both of them? Still, after all this time?

#asks #my fics #look i did another prompt #obikin #superheroes au #i was thinkin of the robert frost fire and ice poem when i went to sleep #and this was the result lmao #obviously they end up together #idk what to tell you #probably big moment for anakin who still thinks obi-wan is dead #for him to show up ten years older than he ever thought he'd see him #limping and being called hoth #i liked the superhero names being after the planets they're from (i mean mostly #iego is cause of the angels thing and obi-wan is like oof hes radiant hes great hes an angel)#hes a mass murderer (again) is what he is #god i hope this fic makes sense its 4:41 #prompt fill

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wavesmp3 · 3 years

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[hyunjae] the sea is yours to take

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

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve missed you dearly, Juyeon.”

He grins. “I as well.”

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

“I’ve heard.”

“About everything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That you did.”

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

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

You shut the door in his face.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I've seen paintings." You snipe.

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

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

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

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

"Were you close to him?"

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

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

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

***

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

“Who is it?” You ask tiredly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Indeed, he does.”

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

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

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

“Everyday.”

“I wish I knew her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave Orindell.”

“Not until-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"About Orindell and you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been sending him Risals.”

“And…?” Juyeon asks, hopeful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate to ask this—”

“Then don’t.”

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

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

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

You do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” You respond simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Younghoon tilts his head, “Heard what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything worth sharing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

You exhale sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they as untraceable as they say?”

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

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

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

“Jaehyun—“ Younghoon starts.

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

“What are your powers, Gift?”

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

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

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

“No.”

“So you can die?”

“Yes.”

“By old age?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

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

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

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

You request to be taken straight to your quarters.

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

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

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

“I ate earlier.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fortitude isn’t a name—”

“Neither is Gift.”

“— it’s a title, Younghoon.”

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

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

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Lord Jaehyun.”

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

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

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

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

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

You find yourself to be smiling too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” he repeats, sounding suddenly serious.

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

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

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

***

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

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

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go to the Gift of Fortitude.”

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

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

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

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

You shrug.

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

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

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

“Remarkable isn’t it?”

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun and Younghoon decide to wait for you outside.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

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

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

“Just a friendly scuffle?”

“I don’t—“

“Or perhaps a sword fight?”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Vina.”

“And how old is she?”

“15 come winter I believe.”

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

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

“Smile less.”

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

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

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

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

“You could braid it.” Jaehyun suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Your shoulders drop. “Yes please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You erupt in laughter.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “Well, are you scared?”

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

“No.”

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

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

A giggling Jaehyun cowers behind the target and runs.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum. “And you?”

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

“Do you come here often then?”

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

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

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

“Yes, but what about this cliff?”

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“How old are you?”

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you a question then?”

“Depends.”

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

You inhale. “Too old, Jaehyun.”

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

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

“So then why don’t you?”

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

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

***

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

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

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

“Oh,” Jaehyun says softly.

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

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

Your mouth twitches. “Yeah.”

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

You squint at him.

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun starts pulling his shoes off.

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

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

you run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun hesitates.

“Who was the Sin of Pride to you?”

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

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

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

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

“Forgive me if I intruded.”

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

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

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

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

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

And you do.

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

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

“Where’d they take you?”

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

“Did you get to see your family again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you switched sides?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re quiet.

“I regret it all.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one’s ever asked.”

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

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

“Sunwoo?”

Jaehyun nods, and you look up to the sky.

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

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

***

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

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

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

“Was it remembering that day that caused it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

“How do you mean?”

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

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

“And who’s here to worry about you?”

Younghoon sighs. “Thank you for the concern.”

***

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

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

“Come in.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun looks confused. “Why shouldn’t you”

“I mean I… I never really knew him.”

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

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

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

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

You inhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

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

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

The arrow hits the wooden target with a sharp thud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prince Peter, what are you suggesting?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun chokes on his water.

You continue on with the story, unbothered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The response from Roen comes a few days later.

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

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

You sleep wonderfully that night

—LORD JAEHYUN—

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

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

His hand lingers by the nape of your neck.

“Yes, it must.”

The next day Jaehyun tells Younghoon to go back home.

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

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

Younghoon packs up his things that very night.

***

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

He hates the quiet.

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

Jaehyun runs.

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

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

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

“Lady Gift!” Vina yells back. “You’ll die. Come down. It’s not—“

Jaehyun puts a hand on Vina’s shoulder. Asking, pleading her to stop.

“Lady Gift,” he doesn’t yell or scream, and yet he speaks loud enough for you to hear over the wind and waves. Jaehyun surprises himself with how calm his voice sounds. “Do you know how to swim?”

You falter, grasping your sleeves as if they hold the answer.

“I might.” You finally respond.

Jaehyun sighs. “I won’t try to stop you.” You look surprised. “But just wait a moment before you jump.”

He starts pulling off his shoes, and then also his shirt. He can feel Vina stiffen beside him.

“Lord Jaehyun, what are you doing?” Vina asks frantically.

“I just wanna make sure the water’s safe,” he says before diving into the ocean.

The water is cold. But he pushes himself through the water, swimming to the base of Angel’s Peak and feeling the strength of the sea with each movement of his arms. The waves are loud and crashing, but they aren’t strong.

“Jaehyun!” He hears you scream from the cliff above. It sounds like you’re asking him to stop. He does not.

He reaches the base of the cliff, his body now acclimated to the cold temperature of the water. He dives under the water and looks for something, anything that could hit you in your fall. The water is empty and clear.

“The water is safe.” He calls back up swimming to a safer spot, away from where you will fall. “Run and jump, or you won’t make it past the ledge.”

You nod looking up past the horizon, eyes closed.

“And remember,” you open one eye to look down on him, “feet first.”

You smirk. Then disappear from Jaehyun’s view. You run up to the edge. And jump.

Except that you don’t just jump. You fling your body off the cliff. You fling your entire lifespan into the sky. And you fall.

Jaehyun swears that time stops when you do. As if you aren’t falling but descending. As if the air is holding you up by the arms. You drop from the sky as if you’ve been preparing to do so your entire life. As if every second, minute, day, and year has amounted to this jump, this dive. And you fall and fall and fall. For longer than is humanly possible. Feet first, like Jaehyun had said. But you don’t crash into the water. No, the waves rise up to meet you. As if the sea has been waiting for you since forever. You disappear into the ocean. Jaehyun watches. Amazed.

It’s when Vina screams his name that he’s pulled out of his trance. It’s then he realizes that you have yet to re-emerge from under the water.

He panics. Fear coursing, shooting through him. He sucks in a breath.

And dives.

He lets the current take him to you. And there you are. Submerged in the water between the tides. Your eyes closed. Alive but unconscious. Alive but not fighting. He had asked you once what it took to kill you, and you had answered: giving up. And Jaehyun thinks that this must be it. Your body floating, sinking, falling in the water. This must be what it meant to give up.

But Jaehyun isn’t going to let you give up so easily. He grabs you in his arms and throws back the water until you’re both above the surface. He fights and swims like he’s never done before. He rips through the current with a frightening amount of adrenaline. Vina pulls you both out of the water. And Jaehyun bangs at your chest and blows life into your lungs until you are choking and breathing and alive. Jaehyun falls into the sand beside you.

“I’ll go get towels, and clean clothes.” Vina says scurrying away in the sand.

Jaehyun and you lay side by side, wet hair and clothes sticking to your bodies. Exhausted.

“It looked like you were dying,” Jaehyun mumbles the moment he can spare enough breath to do so, “there, under the water.” He turns his head. “Were you trying to?”

“I don’t want to die, Jaehyun.” Your voice comes out as breathless as his.

“Did you want to feel like you’re dying?”

You shake your head.

“Then what?”

“I wanted to feel mortal.”

He looks away from you, and they watch the clouds in a shattering silence.

“I want to do it again.”

Jaehyun laughs, amused by your desire to fling yourself off cliffs. “Oh I beg you, at least learn how to swim first.”

You look at him then. Forehead creased and utterly confused.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

And later that night in the darkness of your bedroom and comfort of your covers. You think and overthink and think again how Jaehyun didn’t try to stop you. How he let you jump and made sure the water was safe. How he carried you back to shore. And how unbelievably good it felt to be in his arms.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The quiet is gone. It’s like you jumped off Angel’s Peak and dropped the silence in the water. Jaehyun is glad because, above all things, the quiet made him worry.

You only wait a day before you’re asking Jaehyun to teach you how to swim. And when you do, excitement gushing from your voice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that it matters, Jaehyun would have agreed to teach you regardless, his choice or not.

Jaehyun’s father taught him how to swim. He taught him how to paddle and tread the water. He taught him about the currents, the waves, the seaweed, and the fish.

Jaehyun extends everything he knows to you.

You struggle at first. Even with the little things, like not losing your balance against the waves and floating in the water. But you’re stubborn. You struggle and fight with the sea until it’s bowing at your feet. By the end of the first week, you glide through the water and body surf the waves as if you’ve been doing it for years. And two days after that, you swim even better than Jaehyun. You race him to the rocks and back. You win everytime. Though Jaehyun takes pride in the way he doesn’t end far behind. Jaehyun also takes pride in how he was the one to teach you, and how good you’ve become in such little time.

You smile at him, ducking your head under the water, and Jaehyun feels an unreal sort of elation. It’s then that he takes his pride and shoves it into the ocean.

***

“I lied,” you confess the night you both can’t sleep and meet for the second time at the rocks. Jaehyun immediately assumes the worst, his mind racing with possibilities. “A while ago, Younghoon asked me if I would fight him. I told him I don’t like to fight anymore. But it was a lie. I do.”

He exhales, so relieved it comes out as a laugh. “Next time don’t make it sound so grave.”

You shove his propped knee, and he topples over dramatically. You snicker at the display.

When you continue, your voice is tainted with an odd shade of guilt. “And I don’t just like fighting. I enjoy it too.”

Jaehyun smiles a bit. “How so?”

You hesitate, looking at Jaehyun like he holds the answer in his palms, but frown when you notice his smile. “Why are you smiling?”

He shrugs. “It’s nice to hear you talking again.”

“Oh.” You look down at your feet. Jaehyun feels suddenly warm.

He shakes the feeling. “You say you like fighting as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Is it?”

Jaehyun expects it to be rhetorical, but you meet his eyes sincerely. Jaehyun realizes, in what feels like a moment too late, that you genuinely don't know. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“I suppose.” You tap your foot against the rock. The beat feels familiar to Jaehyun.

“So then,” he says when the tapping comes to stop, “why don’t you fight?”

You bring your knees impossibly closer to your chest. “After Avi died, I felt so lost. He was the last person to know me for me. And so, after a fire was lit in his memorial, I left the Golden Palace and I…”

You stop there as if the story has come to a sudden end.

This time the tapping comes from Jaehyun’s foot. “Is it the fog again?”

“No.” You tell him confidently. “I can’t remember well. But it’s not because of some fog. It’s like my memories of those years have been blacked out. Erased from my mind. By choice.” Jaehyun watches the way you unsurely picks at your nails and the way your hair billows in the wind. “All I know is that after Avi died, I was so angry. At the world. At myself. I went on a rampage. I was in this state of so much pain and hurt and loss that nothing mattered anymore. I didn’t care who I hurt along the way, and only the Gods know how many I must’ve hurt.”

Jaehyun listens. He lets your words travel and touch every part of his body and soul until he feels the pain and anger himself. Until he wants to sob at the tear that rolls down the side of your face.

“I remember the fire that was lit for Avi, and then I remember running from the Golden Palace. After that, it's all black and blur. But then one day I woke up and the anger was gone. Like it had dissolved overnight. The next week I met Roe.”

You pause, and in the silence Jaehyun yearns to take the years you spent in suffering and carry them in his arms. He wants to hide the years you spent angry and alone in the pockets of his largest coat.

“I’m scared, Jaehyun.” You whisper, voice wavering in the salty wind. “I’m scared that if I let myself fight again, I won’t come back from it. How can I carry the name Fortitude when I don’t even have enough courage to face myself?”

The words hit him like a punch to gut. He recoils under the weight. A gust of wind blows then, pushing and pulling the hairs that have escaped from your braid. He wants to reach his hand out and tuck the hair away. He only realizes a second after that he hasn’t swallowed down the impulse fast enough. He’s surprised to see you soften the teeniest bit when his fingers graze your forehead. He feels suddenly, impossibly weightless.

“You aren’t the person you were then.” He says. “You’ve learned. You’ve grown. But the biggest difference is that now you aren’t alone.” You let out a breath as if you’ve been holding it for years. For all Jaehyun knows, that might be the truth. He continues. “The day you jumped off Angel’s Peak, you fell into the water and you sank. For the smallest of seconds, I lost you between the waves. But I found you and pulled you to shore.” He pauses, reminded of the terror he felt for the second that you were gone. “What I mean is that if you lose yourself in the waves of a fight, you have people to pull you out from the riptide. You have me, Younghoon, Juyeon, Peter, Roen, Orindell; hell even Vina would pull you out if she had the chance.” You manage a small, sad laugh, and the sound of it alone fills Jaehyun with an indescribable warmth. “You're not alone anymore. Even if you do get lost, you’ll find a way back, with or without our help. If you want to fight, fight. You have nothing to be scared of. Not anymore.”

You lay back suddenly, arms extended above your head and eyes closed. You smile. Like you’re free. As if you’ve been granted freedom from the ropes tied by your own doing. You yawn.

“Oh how happy Younghoon will be to hear all this.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “He’ll be jumping at the chance to spar with you.”

You stand up and say, “thank you for listening,” before walking away.

“And Jaehyun,” you stop, your back still facing him, “it feels nice to talk with you again too.”

Jaehyun is the Zalazar River in the fall. Bright red and burning.

***

Jaehyun floats on his back in the waveless water watching you above him who’s grown to love cliff jumping from Angel’s Peak.

You jump like you did before except that this time you don’t fling your life into the water. You jump and fall from the sky. Then you sink and sink and sink. And emerge from the water, alive.

“Are there any other cliffs?” You ask as you swim around each other.

“What, are you bored of Angel’s Peak already?”

“Perhaps.”

Jaehyun laughs, and you splash him with water. He dives and chases you back to shore.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

“Aren’t you close to Captain Juyeon?” Jaehyun wonders aloud when a Risal swoops down from the sky the day you and Jaehyun are sitting in the courtyard.

“He’s like a brother to me.” You say while you send the bird away, keeping the letter sealed and in your lap.

“Then, why haven’t you been exchanging Risals with him as well?”

You scoff. “I wish I could, but he’s scared of the bird.” Jaehyun giggles, and it spreads like wildfire in the breeze.

“You must miss him.” He mutters, and you hum a yes, opening the letter wordlessly.

The letter you receive however is not the one you expect. And it certainly isn’t the letter you want.

You read and then reread the letter from Orindell. It was an apology of sorts, though the words seem scattered and unsure. You huff, dropping the letter in your lap. Jaehyun notices but doesn’t say anything, focusing instead on that cat that’s climbed in his lap.

You think about Orindell, the boy who you’ve known his entire life, and how well he grew up. Orindell never let his brothers get the best of him despite being the youngest. Wherever they beat him in strength and size, he countered with wit and skill. It proved useful for Orindell; he was quick to take interest in matters of battle strategy and war efficiency. Orindell climbed the administrative ranks of the Knights of the Holy Order faster than anyone you had seen before, and in a blink of an eye, he became the youngest ever Commander of the Knights. You had felt swollen with pride for the youngest Prince.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much when he confessed to you in the winter. And yet here Orindell is, apologizing for pushing his love on you and for asking your hand in marriage. Here he is taking back his wrongdoings in writing. You sigh helplessly.

“Is something wrong?” Jaehyun asks from across the table not taking his eyes off the cat still curled up in his lap. You slide the letter over to him. He reads it slowly. Then laughs. “I was not aware you carried Prince Orindell’s heart in your bags.”

You narrow your eyes. “I. Do. Not.” You snatch the letter back.

“I take it you don’t harbor similar feelings for Prince Orindell then?” The question sounds hopeful.

“No, not at all.” You deny. “Orindell is like a child to me.”

“He’s only a few years younger than myself.” Jaehyun says looking up, his eyes strangely dark. “Do you see me as a child too?”

You flick the letter. “I’ve known Orindell since he was born. I watched him grow. He feels like family to me. But I met you at this age, so it doesn’t feel like you’re much younger than I am. It’s odd how age seems to work in my head. I know I’m older than you and Younghoon by ages, and yet I see you both as equals.” You take a sip of your drink. “Plus, Orindell still acts like a child.” Jaehyun smiles at that.

“Oddly enough,” Jaehyun mumbles, bringing the full glass to his lips, “that makes sense.”

You think back to the letter, and sense fondness in Orindell’s apology. Something in your mind clicks.

“I was so mad at him,” You say to the air around you, “at Orindell. For months. I wanted him to tell me he never felt that way, that he fooled himself into something deeper than a platonic love. But I realize now that he can’t take it back even if he wanted to. Orindell can’t help how he feels.” You look up and find Jaehyun watching you. “He’s apologized for what he can. But he can’t apologize for falling in love.”

Jaehyun smiles sweetly. The kind of smile that makes your heart numb. “Oh Fortitude, I could’ve told you that months ago.”

“I fear,” you begin, leaning forward in your seat, “that in rejecting Orindell, I’ll lose him as well.”

Jaehyun points to the letter. “He’s apologized. He doesn’t want to lose you either.”

You repeat it in your mind.

He doesn’t want to lose you either.

It makes you feel suddenly, inexplicably upset and confused. Why is it so easy to love yet so hard to accept? How can love be so strong but still fleeting like everything else? You know Orindell’s feelings for you will pass, and yet knowing it doesn’t make you feel much better. Love waxes and wanes like the phases of the moon, but does it ever fade? You think of how Orindell feels towards you. How you have felt towards others in the past. And today sitting in the courtyard, the picture your shoved down feelings create finally starts to make sense. You find the image to be startling but unsurprising all the same. Finally, you understand the pain of poets, the pain Orindell must feel, and the pain you once felt yourself.

Love is a burden. A burden you’re only now learning how to accept.

You want to welcome the warm weight with open arms.

***

That night you send a Risal to the Golden Palace addressed for Prince Orindell.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun sorts through his papers and files through responsibilities mindlessly on the day a letter for him comes. He pushes it to the side of his mind when you come into his office sputtering something about the latest news from the Golden Palace and how things have been so much better between you and Prince Orindell.

He waits a moment once you’ve finished. “Do you remember me telling you about my sister, Insia?” You nod at his question, falling into the armchair near him. “Well, I just got this from her.” Jaehyun holds up the letter. “It’s her son’s birthday, and they’ve invited me to celebrate.”

“Oh how sweet!” You gush, although your voice sounds a bit higher than normal. You pull at your sleeves. “How long will you be gone?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun hesitates, his next question teetering on the tip of his tongue, “I was wondering if you’d like to come as well?”

***

The boat ride to the island Insia lives on is pleasant. Jaehyun humors you with stories of his childhood and of Insia, and you listen to Jaehyun talk as if your life depends on it. When they dock, Jaehyun drags you to a bakery to buy candy and sweets for Insia’s children and then some more for yourselves.

By late afternoon they reach Insia and her husband Cyrin’s house. Jaehyun always liked their house. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was comfortable and somehow perfect. They lived right on the beach. The back door leading to a sandy shore and sparkling blue waters.

“Hold on,” Jaehyun says abruptly, taking your hand in his, “before we go in, I want to show you something.”

He leads you around the house and beyond the white fence that separates the streets from the beach. You take off your shoes before proceeding in the sand. It takes one more turn and another second of walking on your already aching feet before it’s visible.

The sea.

The water that surrounds the island is bluer and clearer than the waters back home. The waves shine in the last bit of the light from the setting sun. Jaehyun feels at home despite being hours away from it.

He looks over at you. And you smile so brightly the sun seems to dim in that moment. The awe in your eyes and lightness in your sigh reminds Jaehyun of the first time he took you to see the sea. He’s reminded of how his chest wanted to burst at the sight of your smile. He finds himself in a similar predicament today, except that now the bursting chest was something he had grown quite used to. It was something he had grown to adore. Jaehyun loved the sea. But looking at you and the wonder in each one of your bones, he thinks you might love it more.

“Uncle Jaehyun!” A voice yells from behind them. Jaehyun whips around only to be tackled by the weight of a 7 year old clinging onto his body and legs. A second later he’s tackled by another child. He pulls them both into his arms and smothers them with as much love as he can fit into a hug.

You kneel down in the sand, and introduce yourself to the children. “You must be Elia.” You say to the older girl who’s detached herself from Jaehyun. Elia nods enthusiastically. “And you,” you point to the younger boy, shyly hiding behind Jaehyun’s legs, “must be the birthday boy.”

“That’s my brother Herschel, and he’s turning five years old tomorrow.” Elia jumps in before Herschel can answer. Jaehyun plops down himself and the children follow. The four of you sitting in a circle in the warm sand.

“Or so I’ve heard.” you say, pulling the box of sweets from a bag. “Well, to celebrate your Uncle Jaehyun and I brought you some sweets—“

The children pounce on the box before you can finish. Jaehyun clutches his stomach in laughter.

“Jaehyun!” Insia yells from the back deck of her home. Although the yell sounds more like she’s about to nag him instead of welcoming her only brother to her home. “Those sweets will rot their teeth!”

“You’re torturing them Insia!” He yells back, getting up from the sand to greet his sister. “Children need sweets.”

Insia scrunches her nose. “You spoil them too much.” She says before pulling Jaehyun into a hug.

Jaehyun leads Insia to where you and the children sit in the sand, and asks about the whereabouts of his youngest niece, Devi, who is still less than a year old. Insia resposds that she’s napping and that Cyrin’s watching her.

You stand up to greet Insia.

“Lady Gift, it’s such an honor that you’ve come to visit. We’re humbled to have you stay in our home.”

“Oh please, no. I’m the one who’s humbled that you’ve opened up your home to me. And please call me Fortitude. I despise formalities.”

“Well, in that case,” Insia coos, looping her arm with yours, “please come inside. Jaehyun’s told me so much about you. I think we’ll get along wonderfully this weekend.”

***

Insia, like always, is right. You and her get along wonderfully. After the kids are put to bed, you and Insia begin talking in the sitting area, and in the span of your conversation, Jaehyun and Cyrin are able to finish not one but two card games at the kitchen table. Cyrin puts up the cards while Jaehyun watches you and Insia converse. He finds it almost surprising that the two of you still have something to talk about considering how different you both are. But the surprise is a pleasant one, for Jaehyun takes much pleasure in watching two people he cares for so deeply talk and laugh together comfortably.

“Jaehyun, you must stay here longer.” Cyrin insists. “If not for the whole weekend, then at least for the day after Herschel’s party.”

Jaehyun hesitates. “I don’t know. Younghoon is already coming back the day before we’re supposed to, and I’d hate to make him wait for us longer than he already will be.”

“Oh please,” Insia dismisses, you and her approaching the table, “Younghoon sees you everyday; he’ll be fine. I barely see you anymore, especially after Devi was born. The least you could do is give me the pleasure of celebrating your birthday with you.”

“Your birthday?” You mutter from your side of the table. You meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “Forgive me Jaehyun. I had no idea.” Jaehyun dismisses the apology.

Cyrin and Insia share a look. The kind of look that only couples who know each other in and out could share. The kind of look that holds entire conversations in one glance. They share another look after that too. Insia scoffs, turning dramatically to you.

“Would you mind humouring Cyrin with an arm wrestle? He wants to see how well he can hold up against a Gift of the Spirit.”

Jaehyun’s reminded of how a similar conversation between Younghoon and you went. Jaehyun inhales sharply, watching your reaction carefully. You surprise him by laughing.

“I’m no joke.” Cyrin defends in response to your laughter. “There’s yet a person on this island to beat me.”

You lean towards him. “Ah, but no person on this island is me.” You ready your arm up. Cyrin takes it eagerly.

Jaehyun likes this. How you tease Cyrin. How you’re not afraid of your powers anymore. How you beam with confidence.

“You do know who I am right?” You say, before the back of hand slams down on the table. Cyrin yelps in shock, and Insia hides snickers behind her hand while you laugh loudly and freely. You turn towards Jaehyun, and the two of you share a look of your own.

And through the silent conversation, Jaehyun knows. Younghoon would have to wait a bit longer for your return.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

The next morning you send a Risal to Younghoon telling him that you and Jaehyun would be staying for the entire weekend. He responds with a simple tell Herschel and Jaehyun I said happy birthday. You do.

Later that day, Insia requests you and Jaehyun to take the children outside while she prepares the house for the part that night.

You pick up Devi and rock the child in your arms, following Jaehyun and the other two children out of the house, onto the back deck, and then to the beach. You carefully take a seat in the sand.

You learned back when the Princes were young that you had an inexplicable knack with babies. So when Devi softens and presses herself against your body, it appears the knack has not yet been lost. You turn into mush when Devi stops crying, reaching for you. You give her a finger to hold onto and Devi takes it at once.

You look away from the adorable baby cradled between your arms, and your eyes land on Jaehyun. Jaehyun plays with Elia and Herschel, really plays with them. Running and rolling around in the sand. Splashing them with water and pouting when the two siblings get mad at each other. You wonder for a moment what it would be like if this was your family. Married, with children, and living far away on this island. You wonder for a moment how it would feel to be normal and to be mortal. And the thought strikes you with an odd sort of sadness. One that grabs at your heart and shakes it until the blood is gone. One that makes your ribs disappear and your body feel hollow and numb.

But then Jaehyun lifts Herschel onto his shoulders, and your sadness vanishes the second he does. He smiles at you. Giggles. Calls you twice with something you can’t quite place lingering on his tongue.

Your chest starts to hum. He smiles at you again, and the humming grows and shifts into a song. A song that’s breathtakingly beautiful. One with chords so delightfully articulated that you don’t want to go a day without hearing them. You want your chest to hum and sing this song for the rest of your life.

Suddenly, Devi squeezes the fingers she’s been holding onto, and in that moment, while watching Jaehyun play with his sister’s children and while carrying Jaehyun’s niece in your own two arms, you feel impossibly, shatteringly happy.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The birthday party had been a smash, with children appearing from every crevice of the house and cake smothered on Herschel’s face. Insia and Cyrin seemed happy with it. You seemed happy with it. The children seemed happy with it. And their happiness made Jaehyun happy as well.

Tonight is another sleepless night for Jaehyun, but since he isn’t home with a familiar rock to sit on, he heads to a balcony in Insia’s home that overlooks the coast. He brings an extra coat; the balcony would be cold. Still, he shivers in the howling wind, letting the crashing waves ease his mind slowly and methodically. You join him at some point, and Jaehyun smiles when he hears the balcony door open. He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you. His smile turns into a frown when he notices you dressed plainly, no scarf and no coat.

“Are you immune to coldness then?”

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your torso. “Unfortunately, no.”

“Here.” Jaehyun hands you the extra coat.

You take it and stare at the cloth before wrapping it around your shoulders. “Do you always bring extra coats?”

“No.” He leans against the wall. “But if you insist on not dressing properly, I suppose I’ll have to start.”

You look down, smiling. You walk to the edge of the balcony and rest your elbows on the railing. The two of you are quiet together for some time.

“I wish you told me earlier that your birthday is approaching, Jaehyun.” You say. “I could’ve prepared something for you.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “It hadn’t seemed important enough to bring up before.”

“Why wouldn’t it be important?”

“It’s just one day.”

“It should still be celebrated.” You insist, sounding suddenly mad. As if Jaehyun not telling you was an insult. Jaehyun positions himself closer.

“Is something wrong?” He asks as softly as possible.

And at his words, your head drops, like you couldn’t bear to hold it up any longer. You cry silently, face hidden from Jaehyun by your own body, stammering over your own sniffles. He takes your hand in his and holds it to his heart. “Please,” he begs because the sight of you in so much silent pain hurts him more than he can admit, “tell me what’s happened.”

And so you do. You tell him how you’ve become rotten with jealousy for Insia and her perfect family. And how you want nothing more than to be normal. You tell Jaehyun how much you wish you could take back being the Gift of Fortitude. And with each word that leaves from your lips, Jaehyun comes to realize that what you tell him now isn’t like anything you’ve told him before. What keeps you up tonight isn’t a forgotten memory or worry for someone else. No, tonight, you allow sleep to stay out of reach and let tears fall down the side of your cheek because of a wound that’s still fresh and bleeding and new. Tonight, your pain is not one Jaehyun can take away. No matter how badly he wants to.

He stares at you, frozen. And Jaehyun thinks, not for the first time, about all the people you’ve lost. Sunwoo, Avi, your parents, Roe. He thinks about all the years behind your eyes, and all the scars in your mind. He thinks about how you’ve given everything you have to give, and how you gave it all from the heart. You sacrificed your entire life for this kingdom. And this sadness, this never-ending pain, you did not deserve. He stares at you, the Gift of Fortitude, and thinks about all that you’ve endured.

Finally, he speaks. “A while ago, you told me that Fortitude meant courage, and that the name alone was such a burden. But later, with Younghoon, I looked up the meaning of Fortitude. It means more than just courage. It means to be brave and stand tall in the midst of pain. It means to endure. And oh, only the Gods know how much in this life you’ve endured.”

Your voice breaks, and at last, your cries are no longer silent. He holds you close, and you shake, sobbing, under the arms he has around you. When he pulls away, he finds that he’s no longer looking at you, but instead the face of a God. Or rather, his God. And Jaehyun isn’t sure what to do or how to act because suddenly he sees his God in you. He says your name like a prayer. Like a religious verse spilling from his lips.

And because he can’t think of anything more to say, he squeezes your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss to each one of your knuckles.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You are a ball of flames. Hot and burning in hues of orange, red, and blue. The song in your chest from earlier erupts into a symphony. But it’s a sad and dramatic orchestra so you continue to weep and cry until the flames have been reduced to scorch marks on your knuckles. Jaehyun’s coat suddenly feels heavy on your shoulders.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun did it on instinct. He kissed your hand because in the moment it felt like the most natural thing to do.

He doesn’t regret it.

He kisses it again. He lets his lips linger. And when Jaehyun lowers your hand back to his heart, he wonders if you can feel how wildly it beats and bangs from inside him.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You feel it. You feel the wildness of your own heart as well.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

You stand like that for so long. You crying. Jaehyun looking into the eyes of God. Your hand against Jaehyun’s restless heart.

You stand like that until you rip your hand away. He lets it fall from his grip. “Leave me be Jaehyun.” You say, tears still fleeing down your face.

He takes a step back from. “You’ve endured enough. Please, don’t make yourself endure this unhappiness too.”

With that, he bids you goodnight, leaving you alone on the balcony with nothing but yourself, the sea, and Jaehyun’s coat.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

That night is long and slow, but the sun welcomes you with a new day of warmth. A new day that also happens to be Jaehyun’s birthday. You do your best to ignore the sadness inside of you. A sadness caused by more than just your want for normalcy. You look down at the hand Jaehyun held in his the night before. You look at your scorched knuckles. You don’t want to look into it any further.

It storms the entire day, so you spend Jaehyun’s birthday inside playing cards, playing chess, and playing with the children. Insia announces she’ll be preparing a feast for dinner. Jaehyun thanks her then smiles, and to you, it looks sad.

***

There’s a knock on the door while you’re preparing yourself for dinner. You open it to Insia who looks you up and down, shakes her head, and mutters a small ‘that won’t do’ before disappearing down the hall. She returns moments later with a collection of her own dresses and lays them out on your bed.

“How about this?” Insia offers holding up a red dress.

You look down at the blue dress you already put on. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Nothing, I just thought you might want to dress up tonight.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“For Jaehyun.” Insia says it blandly.

You feel like the wind’s been knocked out of you. “For Jaehyun?” You echo.

“Nevermind then,” Insia sighs, as if she’s talking to a child who won’t cooperate. She puts the dress down, and comes over, taking your hands in hers. What is it with these siblings and holding your hands? And why does it hurt so much when they do? “I was only giving you options. This dress is lovely too. I’m sure Jaehyun will be delighted no matter which dress you come to dinner in.” Insia leaves, and you ponder why in the world it would matter to Jaehyun which dress you came down in? Then you wonder why Jaehyun should take any delight in your appearance? The questions bring back a familiar sadness.

The bodice of the dress Insia brought is fitting, and the skirt was made to flow beautifully. It’s a newer style, one of the many fashion trends that went over your head. But it is indeed a pretty dress, so you change into it anyways.

Insia was right. Jaehyun looks delighted when you do eventually come down. Even you can’t look past the way his eyes seem to sparkle. “You look stunning.” He tells you as you make your way over to the dining room. “How come you’ve never worn this dress before?”

“It isn’t mine.” You confess. “Insia lent it to me for the night.”

“Ah,” Jaehyun exhales, “that makes much more sense. I wouldn’t have thought this dress to fit your style.” Jaehyun takes his seat, and you ponder yet again how Jaehyun has come acquainted with what is your style and what isn’t?

The dinner is a feast like Insia had said, but still, you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Your mind feels heavy and restless. You desperately want to rid your brain of the thoughts that plague it, and so your eyes land mindlessly on Jaehyun. You watch the way he cares for his nieces and nephews and the way he listens when they talk. You watch him eat and the way he smiles and throws his head back in laughter. You watch and notice all these little things about Jaehyun and find that you care for each one of them. You care for them deeply. It makes your heart feel as heavy as your head. You stand up abruptly and excuse yourself from dinner early, unable to continue silently suffering the pain of your heavy heart and heavy head. You don’t hear Jaehyun follow you out.

It’s when you’re halfway up the stairs that he catches up.

“Please, Jaehyun. Go back.” You continue, not looking back.

“No. Tell me what’s happened.”

You turn a corner, your room now near. “Don’t let me ruin your birthday. Go back to the dinner your sister prepared for you.”

You push your door open, and Jaehyun follows you inside. “Please, just tell me if you’re alright.” Jaehyun asks you so softly, so sweetly, it makes you feel impossibly frustrated. You wish Jaehyun wasn’t so gentle with you. It made it impossible to ignore the way your heart warms whenever he is near.

“Why do you care?” You ask hashly, gathering fistfulls of Insia’s red dress in your hands.

“I’ve always cared.” He sounds hurt, like the words have cut him.

“No Jaehyun, why? Why do you care?” If your words before cut him, this was you digging your fingers into the wound.

“I care…” he falters, searching for something in your face. You wish he didn’t look at you the way he does. “I care because I worry for you.”

“Well,” you huff, “why do you worry then?” Your words come out as more of an accusation than a question, although you yourself aren’t sure what it’s an accusation of.

Jaehyun searches your face again, and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, burn over every spot they touch. He must find what he’s looking for because in an instant his face, no, his entire body softens and he crumples into the chair behind him. Head bowed before you.

“I’m sorry,” he utters, “I’m sorry. I can’t hide this any longer. I can’t help it. I—“

You cut him off, crying. “Oh, please Jaehyun, don’t say it please.” You beg because you aren’t sure if you can bear to hear him say it aloud. And because you can’t ignore the desperation in Jaehyun’s voice.

“I won’t hide it from you. I can’t hide it, not anymore, not now that you know because I do. I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long now.”

You aren’t sure what makes you do it. Perhaps it’s the sadness in his voice or the love on his tongue. Perhaps you go towards Jaehyun because of your own will. But no matter the reason, you stand near where he sits and brushes the hair away from his eyes. He grabs your hand when you do and holds it against his head, bowing before it. As if he wouldn’t be able to stand it if your hand was doing anything but touching his face. As if he is offering his entire self to you. And you hate how much comfort you take in this. In having the back of your palm pressed against Jaehyun’s head. But you do, you take comfort in this little action. In this little declaration of love.

You fling your hand out of Jaehyun’s grip and stumble to your bed, which you fall onto, burying your face into the soft sheets, weeping. You weep because you don’t like love. And because love will always lead to loss. And because you’re tired of losing. You weep because you don’t want to lose Jaehyun.

And suddenly, Jaehyun is standing next to you. You can sense that Jaehyun is crying too. He caresses your hair gently.

“I don’t mean to push my love on you. I just can’t bear to hide it anymore. Because hiding it feels like a lie, and I don’t wish to lie to you.” He pauses, his hand lingering behind your ear. “Please, don’t push me away. The last thing I want is for things to change.” And you know Jaehyun is smarter than to think this won’t change anything. Love had a way of forging its own path in life. He continues. “I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t fathom a life where I lose you. I love you but I don’t expect you to love me too. I never will. Don’t push me away. Please.” He presses a silent kiss to your hair, and it only makes you weep harder.

“Leave me be, Jaehyun.” You say for the second time this weekend. And it hurts to say as much as it did before, because in actuality the last thing you want is for Jaehyun to be anywhere but by your side. But you send him away regardless because when he is near, your heart beats too fast for your mind to think of anything but him and his smile and his laugh. Jaehyun shuts the door quietly.

You think how unfair it is that you should take so much pleasure in the kisses he presses to your hands and hair. And pleasure in his company and in every single innocent touch. You think how unfair it is that Jaehyun must love you. You think it’s unfair and cruel and mean and wrong. You cry for the unfairness of the world, and then you cry yourself to sleep as well.

***

You spend the next day, your last day on this island, in your room. They bring you meals, but you aren’t able to eat a single one. You spend the whole day in your head.

It’s evening when you do eventually leave your room. You go straight to Jaehyun’s, and slip a letter under the door.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun spends most of the day on the beach, throwing his worries into the reef and watching them roll away with the waves. When he returns to his room, he finds a letter from you. His heart stops.

Dear Jaehyun, Last night, you said that you couldn’t bear to lose me. That you couldn’t fathom a life where you lose me. But the thing is, love has always led to loss, and I will always be the one losing. Because one day, you’ll die and I won’t. I don’t have to fathom a life without you. I just have to wait for it. I’m tired of loving and losing. One day, I’ll lose you as a friend, don’t make me lose you as a lover too. -Fortitude

When he finishes reading the letter, his heart starts beating again. Except that it doesn’t beat, it breaks. He had been reckless with his words. He isn’t going to make that mistake again. He writes you a letter of his own.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— Dear Fortitude, Forgive me. I was careless and stupid with my words, and I can’t pretend to understand your specific pain. You told me once, long ago, that you aren’t immortal. Which means your pain is not forever either. But even then, you are not alone in loss. We all love. We all lose. Everyone is bound for that sadness, including me and you. We know that and yet still, we wear our hearts on our sleeves and fall in love again and again, over and over. Don’t let the pain of loss keep you from the joy of love. Please. -Jaehyun

You find yourself thinking of the time after the death of Avi. The time where you lived without love. The period of time that you’ve blocked from memory. Perhaps, Jaehyun is right. Perhaps there is no life without love. And not just romantic love, but platonic love, familial love, and love in all its forms. The thought feels heavy in your mind.

***

You’re walking through the halls of the house at night when you find Jaehyun. He’s on the same balcony as two nights ago, staring at the sea. You stand in the hall and watch him.

You recall how strong the wind was that night and how Jaehyun had an extra coat. You remember how warm it felt to have something of his draped over your shoulders. And looking back, it seems so simple. It seems obvious that when Jaehyun gave you his coat, it was more than just a kind gesture. It was a declaration of his love. It hits you then, how many times Jaehyun has told you, or rather showed you his love. He showed you when he held your hand against his beating heart and when he pressed kisses to your knuckles. He said ‘I love you’ every single time he listened to you talk and all those days he spent teaching you how to swim. He showed you when he let you jump from Angel’s Peak, when he didn’t let you sink, and when he carried you back to the beach. He told you that he loved you when he gave you a burning log to throw in the fire at his father’s memorial. He told you that day he ran in the sand with you, like the child you never got to be, and he said it each time he braided your hair. And like a wave crashing over, you realize that Jaehyun has been declaring his love in a million different ways since the day he offered the sea as yours to take. Your heart carries each one of these confessions, each one of Jaehyun’s silent declarations, until it sinks and sinks and sinks within your own body.

In all your years, through all your loss, you’ve grown to dislike romantic love. But looking at him now, you realize Jaehyun’s love for you is more than just romantic. His love for you is one of respect and admiration. His love for you is one of understanding. His love for you is pure. Purer than any love you have known before. You look at Jaehyun again, really look at Jaehyun. You look at the way the moonlight bounces off his skin and hair, and the way he rests his elbows over the railing. You look at the way he bends one knee. You look at Jaehyun and see more than you’ve ever seen in him before. You look at Jaehyun and see a God. But not just any God, you see your God. And you have no idea what to do.

It’s while staring at his figure on the balcony that you realize you love Jaehyun too. It’s then that you realize you have been falling in love with the little things since the day he took you to see the sea. But oh, how the little things were everywhere and everything.

And suddenly the realization is bursting through the balcony doors and into the arms of the man you love. The realization pours out from your eyes and heart. The realization spills from your lips and paints itself across the night sky. The realization is screaming, breaking itself free. In your head, you chant. I love you. I love you. I love you. Out loud, you say, “And you must know, I’ll love you for a very long time.”

And Jaehyun’s laughing, holding you in his arms, blissfully, as if there’s nothing that could have made him happier. As if there’s no place he'd rather be than right here with you on this balcony overlooking the sea. He laughs and then leans his forehead against yours. “I love you too, and you must know that right now, I want to kiss you quite terribly.”

And because he loves you. And because you love him. And because he made you laugh after a weekend spent crying, you tilt up your chin and close the distance. For a moment, everything fits perfectly, and you, once again, feel shatteringly happy.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun imagines the feeling fluttering in his chest that morning can only be described as bliss. But to him it is more. It’s more than blissful to wake up to you sleeping in his shirt on his bed tangled in his sheets and limbs. But alas, bliss would do for now.

He takes his bliss and presses it to your shoulder then neck then jaw then cheek. He presses a number of blissful kisses to the infinite spots on your face he’s yet to kiss until you’re awake pushing at Jaehyun’s face.

“I’m not ready to wake up,” you groan, turning your body flush against Jaehyun.

“We’ll miss the boat back if we don’t get up soon.” He reminds, tracing mindless shapes against the curve of your hips.

You sigh and bury your face deeper into his chest. “I’ve ruined our weekend haven’t I?”

He pulls you impossibly closer. “You haven’t ruined anything.”

***

The boat ride from the island back to the mainland is long and slow, and the entire time, Jaehyun is jumping in his seat, ready to return home.

“You must miss him.” You mutter from next to him. Jaehyun doesn’t have to ask to know you’re talking about Younghoon. He nods, turning to you.

“And how about you, what do you miss?”

You look up at the sky, smiling. “I miss,” you tap on Jaehyun’s knee, “jumping from Angel’s Peak.” Jaehyun laughs, capturing the moment and capturing your hand in his.

When you do eventually dock, Jaehyun leads you away from the road home and towards the beach. He surprises himself with the gesture as much as he does you. By the time you reach the sand, you’re running. And you run and run and run. Past the estate. Whipping off your coats and shoes. Discarding your worries in the sand. Running. Wild. In love. You both run until you reach the rocks. And you’re climbing Angel’s Peak while Jaehyun’s diving, piercing his body into the water. You climb then run then jump, piercing the sea yourself moments later. And you both swim around each other ducking and diving in the water.

Suddenly it’s a contest: who can hold their breath the longest. Jaehyun counts the seconds. One. Two. (You kiss him) Three. Four.

Five. (He kisses you) Six.

You return to the estate finally, greeting Younghoon drenched and swollen with love.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s the day after you and Jaehyun return from Insia and Cyrin’s home that you and Younghoon fight for the first time. In all honesty, you have been itching to fight with someone again ever since your talk with Jaehyun. And when you told Younghoon at dinner the night before, that you would be willing to fight him, he was itching to fight with you as well.

For the first couple days, you start simple. A few rehearsed drills and fighting moves. Jaehyun usually watches, sitting in a corner of the courtyard with a book. And when you feel comfortable enough to do so, you advance to Younghoon attacking with jabs and punches here and there and you blocking them while also studying his technique. You learn that Younghoon is a good fighter, but his movements are choppy and slow as if he hasn’t fought in a while which in his defense, he hasn’t. You imagine Younghoon would be better equipped in a sword fight rather than the hand to hand combat you were drilling now. By the end of the first week, Younghoon gets restless, wanting to do more. You reluctantly agree. It’s fine at first, you focus mainly on deflecting his attacks and blocking his moves. When you sidestep from an attack, you see your chance and take it, punching Younghoon in the gut. You only realize after the fact that you’ve done it too hard. Nothing fatal, but a punch hard enough that if you had hit him an inch higher, his rib would’ve broken from the impact. You refuse to fight Younghoon for a while after that. When you do return to fighting, a whole week later back to the basic drills and blocking, you no longer allow Jaehyun to watch.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

The days that follow are some of the happiest for Jaehyun. Jaehyun and you spend whole days in each other's bedrooms and under the sheets. Younghoon catches on to the two of you almost immediately. Perhaps he caught on before you realized anything yourselves.

The other days you spend walking along the shore or drinking tea in the courtyard. And on the days Jaehyun must do work in his office, Younghoon and you play chess in the corner. You continue to send Risals: to Roen and Orindell and another unanswered one to Peter.

You and Younghoon continue training without Jaehyun in attendance. Once you get the hang of controlling the strength of your blows and kicks with an almost frightening amount of precision, you let Jaehyun return to his spot in the corner. And even Jaehyun, who knows nothing about fighting, is amazed by your skill. Skill that is far too good to be fighting with Younghoon, who looks ready to die from exhaustion after every single one of your fights. And yet, despite the way you barely break a sweat, you look unbelievably happy after each and every fight.

Word gets out eventually, likely thanks to Vina’s gossiping, that the Gift of Fortitude has fighting shows in the courtyard of Lord Jaehyun’s estate. And soon enough, every afternoon a flock of young boys, guards, and locally stationed Knights arrive at the courtyard to watch you fight. You no longer mind the crowd. A few brave Knights and guards even try challenging you. You go especially easy for the sake of their bodies, but spare no care when it comes to attacking their egos. But still, even those fights make you happy.

The happiest you look, however, is when Vina asks you to teach her something. You make Vina begin immediately. And as it turns out you’re a wonderful teacher, although when Jaehyun mentions this, you deny it telling Jaehyun it’s only because you taught Juyeon and the Princes. Nonetheless, you teach Vina moves and tricks that would be useful to her like how to use the weight of her opponent against her and how to properly hold a knife and attack with it. It doesn’t take long for Jaehyun’s courtyard to be filled with young boys and girls alike all learning how to defend themselves and fight from you.

And every second that you aren’t teaching and Jaehyun isn’t working, you spend in the water, wading between the waves and floating on your backs. You jump from Angel’s Peak until you feel that you've outgrown it, beginning to search for higher cliffs in the horizon. You race each other from the docks to the rocks and hold numerous contests to see who can hold their breath for longer. You win everything every time, and Jaehyun has never been so happy.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

You’re sitting in the courtyard alone playing with the stray cats, when you hear the Risal’s call signaling the return of the letter you sent to the Golden Palace and to Price Orindell.

Dear Fortitude, I regret to inform you that father has been acting oddly again. Roen and I suspect that he might be preparing to try another ‘experiment’. Roen fears what’s to come if we don’t hear from Peter soon. I take it you haven’t heard from him yourself. I’ve begun to worry for Peter as you do. Do you think he’s okay? Father wants me to cut the pay for the Knights, but how does he expect me to keep an army loyal to this kingdom if we don’t pay them properly? Honestly, Fortitude, I worry for father too. I know he must be taken off the throne, but I worry for him beyond the crown. I worry for his health. He’s getting sicker by the days. It’s difficult to see one’s own father spiral into madness. I’m already saddened with thoughts of how all this will turn out. I’m afraid I’ve made this letter into a collection of my worries. Do you think I worry too much? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. In better news, Captain Juyeon and his squadron have been stationed near Lord Jaehyun’s estate by the Commander himself. Consider it a gift from me to you. He should be arriving in a day or two. And please, give Juyeon a punch for me. - Orindell

You think a visit from Juyeon might be the first piece of good news you’ve received from the palace in weeks. You jump up and run back into the estate to tell Younghoon and Jaehyun.

***

You’re in the kitchen with Vina eating fruit when Juyeon arrives.

“He’s here.” Jaehyun tells you, popping his head in the kitchen.

You snap up and look at Jaehyun as if waiting for him to admit he’s joking. He only nods.

So you grab his hand and run.

The first thing you do when you see Juyeon is punch him, as hard as Orindell would.

“Ow!” He yelps, then tilts his head, confused. “Did your punches get weaker?”

You finally hug him, and exhale into his shoulder. “That punch was from Orindell.” You pull away from the embrace. “And this one,” you punch his other arm, much harder than before but not any harder than he’s already used to, “is from me.”

He winces, clutching both arms. “You could’ve just said no.”

You smile. “But where’s the fun in that.”

Once Juyeon, Jaehyun, and Younghoon have all been properly introduced, the other two give you and Juyeon some time to catch up. You take him to the beach for a walk.

“How long are you staying?”

Juyeon sighs. “Not long. We leave in two days.”

You sigh as well. “That’s much too soon.”

“Yes, but in lighter news,” Juyeon says, jostling you with his shoulder, “Orindell told me you two made peace.”

“We did.” You hum with a smile.

And so you continue to walk and talk along the shore. Juyeon tells you about all his travels in the time you’ve been apart. And you tell him about the time you’ve spent here, at Jaehyun’s estate. You tell him about jumping from Angel’s Peak and learning how to swim. You tell him about Jaehyun, Younghoon, Vina, Insia, Cyrin, and the kids. You tell him about how the fog in your mind is so much weaker than it was when you left from the Golden Palace, and how much you’ve been able to learn about your past and about yourself. Although you decide to wait to tell Juyeon the specifics.

Juyeon listens closely, nodding his head along. Once you’re done, he smiles mischievously, a new question on his tongue. “And so how long did it take you to realize you’re in love with Lord Jaehyun?”

Your mouth drops, and you look at Juyeon shocked. “Well, longer than it took you to put it together.”

“Ah, well, not everyone is as clueless as you when it comes to matters of the heart.” He tells you with a laugh. “If the King knew how much you’re enjoying the southern sea, I think he’d whisk you back to the palace immediately. You look happy.”

You turn your head towards the water and wait for a wave to crash before responding. “I am.” The admission seems to make Juyeon happy as well. “Also, I’ve been meaning to say, but I think it’s about time we fought each other, Captain Juyeon.”

He stops in his tracks. “Really?”

You nod. And then you tell him about how you’ve outgrown your fear of fighting and losing yourself in it. And how you’ve come to control your own strength against your opponent. “Every afternoon, either I’m teaching the local children how to fight or I’m fighting Captain Younghoon and one of the guards. But now that you’re here, I think it’s time I put all those years I spent teaching you how to fight to use.” You pause, waiting for his response.

He grips your shoulders and smiles excitedly. “You should know, I have been waiting for this day since I was 17 years old.”

***

“Please don’t beat the life out of me.” Juyeon jokes that afternoon as you face each other in the courtyard ready to fight.

“I won’t. Although, I wish I could beat out of you your fear of Risals.” At that, Juyeon laughs. The courtyard is filled with Jaehyun, Younghoon, mina, the guards, Juyeon’s squadron, the other Knights, and your students all awaiting the match between Captain Juyeon, one of the best fighters in the Knights of the Holy Order, and the Gift of Fortitude. You find you’re also excited for this match. Juyeon is a good fighter. You trained him for over five years, and in that time, you taught him all your moves. He knows the way you pick your fights and plot your moves. And perhaps, after his training with the Knights, Juyeon will surprise you with some new moves that you have yet to see. That being said, you don't doubt your ability to win. You might struggle a bit more than you do when fighting with Younghoon, but the thought makes your blood jump with excitement more than anything.

You circle each other for a second, and when Juyeon does charge towards you fist clenched, it takes you a moment to register that he’s moved before you dodge the punch. You block his arm with yours and use the momentum to twirl around him, bringing your knee up to jam into his side. He lunges at you again. And then once more. You let the second blow hit your stomach just to see how strong Juyeon is and regret it the moment you do. He’s strong, and your own tolerance for pain is low. You sidestep from his next kick and use the imbalance to tackle him to the ground. And in the few seconds it takes for him to react, you pummel into his stomach with the same force that he punched you with and slap him on the face once, although the slap is petty and harmless. He clutches his cheek with fake shock before pushing you off him and to the ground, your back on the grass. He pins down your arms. “Don’t blame me for your own decision to take the hit.” He teases while also landing punches to your stomach for the small second he has you caged under his own body weight. You exhale dramatically heaving your legs up to throw him off. It’s only once you’re up that you feel the pain of his blows, although the pain does not feel as bad as it did before. You’re both on your feet again. Circling each other. Punching and kicking faster than you’ve seen in a while and faster than you’ve had to do yourself in years. You’re tackling each other to the ground in one moment and back on your feet in the next. Juyeon is fast. And you feel rusty fighting him. He’s punching and lunging at you with no rest even managing to hit you on some occasions but not in the way he wants for you’re always able to duck or twist your body just in time for the impact. You swipe your leg under his and it takes almost all your strength for the move to topple him onto his back. You find yourself thinking that you’ve instilled in Juyeon the importance of a good stance too well. But once he’s on his back, you kick him onto this stomach and quickly pounce onto him, trapping his hands behind his back with one hand and using your other hand to push his face into the grass. You use one foot to pin down both of his legs by the ankle and shove your other knee into the small of his back.

“Surrender.” You pant.

You lift his head up out of the grass by his hair. You’re surprised to hear that he’s laughing although it comes out ragged behind his heavy breathing. “I surrender.”

And you fall onto your back in the grass next to him, clutching your stomach that’s beginning to ache with your own laughs. You are exhausted and jumping within your own body from the excitement all at the same time. You lay on the grass utterly delighted with the fight.

And once the people in the courtyard realize it’s ended, they erupt in an applause.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE—

It’s at dinner with everyone that you tell Juyeon all that you’ve remembered in the past months. You tell him about the Holy Wars and Lord Seth’s death. At last, you give him an answer to the question about the Nomads he asked that night back at the Golden Palace. He seems satisfied with all that you’ve told him, as if the pieces are finally coming together and in a sense, they are.

“So then there’s just one more question left to ask.” He muses, sitting back in his chair. “Do you remember what else you told Peter the night before he left?”

You suck in a breath. Had you told him something else? Perhaps whatever else you told Peter that night had something to do with why you advised him to go to the Nomads’ Land specifically, beyond their connection with the Elders. Perhaps it had something to do with—

oh.

Suddenly your head splits into two, and in the chasm that emerges, you remember.

“I do.” You breathe, cradling your head in your hands and unbelieving of your own memories. “Who told you?”

“Peter told Roen and Orindell before he left. Orindell told me. We all had questions for you. But Roen was always on some eastern campaign, and you and Orindell weren’t even talking. I tried asking you, but you denied it every time I brought it up. You could barely remember before, but today you said that you’re remembering more now. You said the fog in your mind is clearing. Is it clear enough to tell me more? Do you remember enough to explain why you said what you did?”

You’re silent, trying to make sense of your own foggy memories. It’s Jaehyun who eventually asks it. He leans towards you, and the hand he places on your hunched back feels like a vote of confidence and another of comfort, “are you alright?” You nod. He waits a beat. “What did you tell Peter that night?”

You look at Jaehyun. Then Younghoon. Then Juyeon; he nods. All three watch you carefully.

“I told him that…” you gulp, picking at the table and then your shirt as well, “I told him one of the Seven Sins is still alive. I sent him to the Nomads’ Lands because I think they’ll know how to find the Sin”

Jaehyun and Younghoon look at you insanely, almost as insanely as you feel.

Juyeon starts laughing at the madness of it all.

It’s a hard thing for you to explain, but you try anyway. “I know it’s difficult to believe. But I know it in my gut, and I think I’ve known it for quite some time now.” You tell them how when the Gifts arrived at your village and pronounced you the Gift of Fortitude, it was like you had been relieved of this lump in your throat or like they had reached into your stomach and pulled out a rock sitting at the bottom. It was only after the Holy Wars ended, with the signing of a treaty by you and Avi, that you realized the lump in your throat and the rock in your gut had returned. But you lived with the lump for so long and learned to tolerate the rock so well that you almost forgot about it entirely. That was until one day you woke in your rooms at the Golden Palace to a clear throat and empty stomach. You didn’t even realize what it meant until the week you told Peter.

And somewhere in the midst of recounting everything to Jaehyun, Juyeon, and Younghoon, your mind feels suddenly, blissfully clear. That night, you do more than just remember.

You shoot up from your seat, startling all three of them. You find paper in the next room and begin to write to Peter. Because in your clarity, you see more than you’ve ever seen before. You know how to help Peter find the Sin. Your hand flies across the paper, clarity leading the pen with a mind of its own. And by the time you’re done, Jaehyun, Younghoon, and Juyeon have followed you into the kitchen. All four of them stare at your scribblings.

“What is that?”

“I think it’s supposed to be a letter.”

“No, no. It’s a drawing.”

“Actually,” you cut all three of them off, “I think it’s meant to be a map.”

The three boys share a look.

“What do you mean you think?”

“You’re the one who drew it, how can you not know?”

“I still think it’s a drawing.”

“Please.” You spit at the boys, grinding your teeth at the bubbling pain in your head. “It’s a map. And it’s for Peter.” You retrieve your Risal, and pray silently that your message finds him, and that he’ll be able to make sense of your muddled clarity. “Peter will know.” You add before whispering his name to the Risal and watching the bird disappear into the night sky.

Juyeon shifts his weight between his feet. The question that leaves his lips sounds painfully hopeful. “You really can’t remember?”

Then, all at once, your pain returns. Blurring your vision, making you feel nauseous and unsure. Your body, your mind, your limbs feel weak. Weaker than after you swim for miles with Jaehyun. Weaker than after your fight with Juyeon. This pain is more than physical. This pain consumes you. It infiltrates your entire being. But this is a pain you know. This is how you feel every time the fog in your mind reclaims its territory.

You fall to your knees, Jaehyun catching you in his arms before you hit the ground completely. You grimace into his shoulder. He says something to Younghoon who shuffles away hurriedly before carrying you in his arms away from the kitchen and back to your bedroom. The last thing you remember before everything turns black is the pain in your head and Jaehyun’s voice in your ear.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun can’t sleep that night. He sits by your bedside instead and waits for you to wake up, unable to erase the look on your face moments before you passed out. Jaehyun is no stranger to the fog in your mind, but at dinner something was different, off. When you first started telling Jaehyun about your past, you suffered from headaches often, but as time passed and as your past became a familiar topic of conversation, the headaches faded away. Jaehyun can’t even remember the last time you requested the migraine medicine from Vina. And more than that, you never seemed to forget what you remembered with Jaehyun. But last night was nothing like what Jaehyun had seen before. In one moment, you knew everything with a startling amount of certainty, and then in the next, you were kneeling on the floor, crying in pain. Jaehyun can’t seem to rid his mind of the look on your face, a look that expressed more than just your pain, a look that screamed confusion. Jaehyun can’t forget how lost you looked in your own mind and how hard you were trying to claw your way out. Jaehyun tries to think of something else.

He hears rustling beside him, and you’re up, attempting to sit up in the bed. He coaxes you into laying back down. And once you’re really awake, rubbing circles to your temples, Jaehyun asks if you’re feeling any better.

“Not by much.” You groan, dropping your hands on the bed.

Jaehyun takes a seat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. He takes your free hand in his and squeezes. “Tell me what you remember.”

And so you do. “Was it a map that I sent to Peter?” You ask once you’ve reached the end. Jaehyun nods, and you sigh an ‘oh’ turning your head away.

A silence engulfs the room, and there’s something in your voice when you whisper, “why is it that I can’t remember why I sent it?” that makes a piece of Jaehyun break. He doesn’t know what to say. So you stare at the ceiling until you silently slip back into sleep.

—THE GIFT OF FORTITUDE— The Risal returns the next day while you and Jaehyun are sitting at the rocks alone. It’s been months since anyone has heard from Peter, so when the Risal lands on your arm dropping a letter in your lap, you’re more than just shocked. You read it silently.

Dear Fortitude, Firstly, I presume I should apologize for not answering any of your previous Risals. I had no good news to share. That is, until now. We’ve deciphered your code. We know exactly what to do now. I’m not sure how you knew this was what we needed to finish. Meet us at my castle. From there, we’ll go together. The end is near. -Peter

“What’s it say?” Jaehyun questions. You look at him softly before handing him the letter to read for himself.

He’s quiet then, “oh.” He folds the letter, placing it back in your lap. “I thought you said it was a map.”

“Jaehyun.” You whisper, not letting him ignore the thoughts and worries that plague both your minds.

He pouts and looks out towards the sea. When he speaks at last, he does it so softly, it makes a part of you burn. “You should go.”

You hurl a small rock into the water. “What if I don’t want to?”

“I hate to say it, but you—“

“I know.” You take a shallow breath. “I have to.”

Things are put into place quietly after that. All of the Princes have their own castle although none of them spend much time at them. Peter’s castle is northwest of King’s City, a day's worth of riding with a strong horse. You would ride with Juyeon’s squadron to King’s City, and from there you would ride to Peter castle which was built right into the side of the western mountains alone. It would take you three days of riding if you’re lucky. Five days if you’re not. In truth, you don’t want to leave Jaehyun's estate, and you most certainly don’t want to bid goodbye to the sea.

This is what you want: to throw yourself off of Angel’s Peak like a sack of flour. You want to swim in the cold, freezing water. You want to swim away from the kingdom. From the King. From your worries. From your fears. You want to swim far far away to some remote, undiscovered island where you no longer have to be the Gift of Fortitude. And you want to do it all with Jaehyun.

But you pack your bags instead, send Peter a Risal telling him you’ll arrive at his castle soon. You say goodbye to Jaehyun and Younghoon that night. You and Juyeon would be leaving before they wake. And later that night, you go to Jaehyun’s room and sleep in his bed and cry into his pillow because you don’t want to leave. But more than that, you don’t want to leave him. You say goodbye again.

—LORD JAEHYUN—

Jaehyun jolts out of bed. He feels disgustingly cold when he realizes that he’s woken up alone. That you’re already gone. But then he hears shouting and horseshoes against pavement from out of his window. He looks behind the curtains and makes out six figures on horseback, just beginning to ride away from the estate. He’s running out of his room, slipping on shoes and a shirt, and dragging his horse out of the stables, desperately trying to catch up to Juyeon’s squadron and needing to catch up to you.

He’s riding faster than wind through the town roads, screaming your name. And when he finally catches up to you, in the forest path, he leaps off his horse and runs to you. You see him at the same time he sees you, jumping off your horse as well and flinging yourself into Jaehyun’s arm. Only once he’s embracing you in his arms does Jaehyun realize he’s crying. Juyeon leads his squadron further down the path, slowly so that you can catch up afterwards, but away to give you privacy.

“You didn’t say goodbye.” He cries into your hair.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should’ve. I barely sleep as it is.”

“All the more reason not to, Jaehyun.”

He squeezes his arms around you.

“Ask me to stay.” You whisper into his neck, sad and lonely.

“I can’t.” He whispers back. You pull away and look at his face. Swiping your thumbs across his cheeks.

“Tell me you hate me then.” You weep. “And that you want me to go. Tell me you want me far away from here.“

“Fortitude—”

“Tell me something to make me hate you.”

“—I can’t.”

You inhale sharply, grabbing fitfulls of his shirt in your hands. “Then tell me something that will make it easier to bear the pain of leaving you.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, noticing that your hair is in a braid. Jaehyun hesitates. “Did you do your hair yourself? When did you learn how to braid it?”

You slap his chest. “You dummy. I’ve known how to braid since the first time you showed me.” And then you’re crying again, burying your face into his chest. Jaehyun’s laughing and crying, stroking your braided hair because how foolish is it you both should have wanted nothing more than to be near each other since the very beginning. And how foolish is it that it took you so long to admit, to yourselves and to each other.

“I love you.”

“Not that,” you bawl, “tell me anything but that.”

“I love you.” He repeats. “And one day, when all this is over, we’ll go west. To where the mountains meet the sea. So that you’ll have an infinite number of cliffs to throw yourself off of.” You nod, laughing through the tears. Jaehyun kisses you. Once. Twice. Again. And over.

“I’ll come back, Jaehyun.” You promise. “I’ll come back here, to you.”

“Well, yeah, you have to.” You look at him confused but amused. He continues softly. “Because the sea is still yours to take.”

You laugh once. Kiss him twice. Then mount your horse riding down the path again. And Jaehyun watches you go, holding your last I love you to his chest.

a/n: i feel a little odd and scared to be reposting this piece... again. but i’ve been flirting with the idea of reposting it for tbz for too long for me to not lol. also i didn’t edit or proofread this very thoroughly so if the names got mixed up somewhere within this monster then thats why my bad

#the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenarios #the boyz x reader #hyunjae x reader #lee jaehyun scenarios #lee jaehyun x reader #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #hyunjae imagines #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae angst #hyunjae fluff #tbz scenarios #mine #the sea is yours to take

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cooliogirl101 · 3 years

Text

When they meet, Hashirama is a 18-year-old boy who’s known as an idealist fool with dreams bigger than himself and Hisana is a 15-year-old civilian girl with a cranky, elderly donkey as her only companion.

“No, no, no, not again,” Hisana groaned as she woke up to see that Carrot had-- once again-- chewed through her ropes and was now chomping away at some flowers further down the road. “Goddammit, get back here, you stupid donkey!”

At the sight of Hisana running towards her, Carrot took off at a fairly impressive speed, considering she was 22 years old and had arthritis. Not for the first time, Hisana considered just letting her go-- but then, that wouldn’t do. There were wolves out there (probably), just waiting to make a meal out of some poor old donkey, and Carrot was pretty slow when she wasn’t making Hisana’s life difficult. She wouldn’t survive.

The sound of muffled laughter caught Hisana’s attention and she looked up to see a teenage boy perched in a tree (where had he even come from??), one hand covering his mouth in a very poor attempt at hiding his amusement.

“Need some help?” He offered, eyes glinting with humor as he took in Hisana’s sorry attempt at chasing down her donkey.

Hisana briefly considered turning him down to try and preserve what remained of her dignity, then glanced back at Carrot’s departing figure and promptly decided it was too early in the morning for things like personal pride and chasing down donkeys.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, only a little grudgingly. The stranger’s lips quirked up and he disappeared in a swirl of leaves, only to reappear holding Carrot’s reins a second later.

Hisana blinked. So he was a shinobi. Alrighty, then.

“Here you go,” the stranger said cheerfully, a grumpy donkey trotting behind him.

Scowling, Hisana marched up to Carrot and swatted her lightly on the head.

“Do that again and I’ll make donkey skewers out of you, don’t think I won’t,” she threatened. Carrot nudged at her, nosing around for something to eat, and Hisana sighed, wrapping her arms around Carrot’s neck in a hug before turning to the stranger.

“Thank you. Really,” she said, giving him a faint smile. “You saved me ten minutes of chasing after her.”

“No need to thank me! It was no trouble at all, honestly,” the stranger laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was glad to help.”

Hisana studied him for a moment. She didn’t think he was acting, exactly, but there was something almost scripted about the way he spoke, his posture, his expressions, every movement carefully telegraphed. Like he was taking care to appear as harmless as possible.

It didn’t take a genius to realize why. This may have been her first time encountering a shinobi in person, but she’d heard more than enough stories.

They’re killers, Hisana, plain and simple. People without honor, who slaughter children, innocents, each other-- whoever they’re paid to slaughter-- without hesitation or remorse. Monsters in every sense of the word.

“Hey, um,” she said slowly. “Have you eaten?”

“I beg your pardon?” The shinobi asked, startled.

“I asked if you’d had breakfast yet,” Hisana repeated. “If not, would you care for something to eat? I can offer you--” She paused to mentally take stock of her food inventory. “--leftover meat buns, half an apple, and some vaguely sketchy berries.”

The shinobi coughed.

“Vaguely sketchy berries?” He asked, lips twitching. Hisana shrugged.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re harmless. I’ve been snacking on them for days and I haven’t died yet, which is a good sign.” She smiled at him. “So, breakfast?”

“Yeah,” the shinobi said quietly, after a pause. There was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, almost like he was waiting for her to withdraw her invitation. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“I’m Hisana, by the way.”

“Hashirama. It’s very nice to meet you, Hisana.”

Hashirama ended up staying for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and then for another two days past that. Shinobi, it turned out, made for very good hunters, something Hisana discovered very quickly into their acquaintance.

“Hashirama,” she said, staring at the struggling rabbit in Hashirama’s hand. “This is the fifth rabbit you’ve brought me. I appreciate the thought, but--” She gestured helplessly in the general direction of the rabbit. “--it’s really too much.”

“It’s okay, you can save it for later!” His expression fell. “Unless you’re tired of rabbits? Wait no, of course you’d be tired of rabbits, I should have thought of that. I can get you something else instead? Maybe a pheasant? I think I saw some pheasants around here.”

Hisana studied him for a moment.

“Hashirama,” she said abruptly. “Why did you decide to travel with me?”

“What do you mean?” Hashirama asked, brow furrowed.

“I mean that I’m well-aware I’m slowing you down. Don’t deny it, you can’t tell me that your maximum speed is that of a twenty-something year-old donkey,” she said, exasperated. “I’m not the best at cooking, and we’ve already established that you’re a far better of a hunter than I am. So why stay? Why travel with me when it’d be easier for you to travel alone?”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“You knew I was a shinobi and invited me to stay anyway,” he said finally, voice soft. He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “And besides, I like talking to you.”

Hisana swallowed, caught off guard.

“And I like talking to you,” she replied quietly. “I didn’t invite you along because I wanted your protection, or someone to hunt for me, or anything like that, Hashirama, I did so because I have fun spending time with you. If you like catching rabbits or whatever, that’s fine. But don’t feel like you have to do so for my sake, or that you need to-- to prove something to me.”

Hashirama let out a slightly shaky laugh.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m not very used to this,” he admitted. “You know, you’re the first civilian I’ve spent time with outside of a mission?”

“Well, you’re the first shinobi I’ve ever met,” she replied. He looked at her, surprised.

“Seriously? But you weren’t scared at all!” He exclaimed.

“Well, that’s on you,” she scoffed. “You weren’t very frightening.”

“Or maybe you’re just not very easy to scare,” he answered.

“If that helps your ego, sure,” Hisana grinned.

She reached down to stroke Carrot’s neck.

“So tell me, what was it like, growing up as a shinobi?

When Hashirama hesitated, she added, “You can lie about all the classified parts. It’s not like I would know, anyway.”

Hashirama laughed, shaking his head.

“Alright, then,” he said, smiling. “But I’m warning you, it’s really not as interesting as you’re probably imagining. I grew up in a large ninja clan, and--”

Bonus:

“Care to explain why you came back from your mission three days late?” Tobirama asked flatly. “Half the clan thought you’d died.”

Hashirama smiled, a slightly dreamy look in his eyes. Tobirama didn’t like it at all.

“Just took a detour, that’s all.”

The next time they meet, several years later, Hashirama is the newly appointed leader of his clan and Hisana has built a name for herself as a wandering clan-less healer (she listens for rumors of recent battles/bandit attacks/shinobi disputes and goes wherever there’s recent bloodshed. In doing so, she creates quite a few connections and ends up building the shinobi world’s largest, most detailed information network completely by accident).

#wtl!au #hippocrates au

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