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godslino · 14 hours

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IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway.

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges.

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned.

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip.

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron.

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind.

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched.

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.”

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.”

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?”

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant.

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find.

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful.

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.”

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain.

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf.

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all.

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun.

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way.

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season.

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.”

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones.

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs.

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today.

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted.

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears.

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung.

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat.

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.”

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember.

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong.

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides.

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time.

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them.

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family.

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake.

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep.

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own.

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.”

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world.

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.”

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head.

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own.

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning.

“But I can’t.” you choked.

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you.

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair.

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend.

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night.

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles.

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?”

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you.

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.”

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.”

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder.

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?”

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going.

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking.

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?”

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater.

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder.

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin.

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others.

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it.

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub.

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear.

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias.

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by.

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm.

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating.

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this.

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting.

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view.

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers.

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance.

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything.

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does.

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible.

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused.

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away.

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes.

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust.

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile.

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul.

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?”

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!”

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back.

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?”

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate.

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him.

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt.

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest.

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.”

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set.

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays.

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight.

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets.

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat.

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh.

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face.

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further.

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine.

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out.

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything.

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat..

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him.

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm.

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics.

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot.

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.”

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points.

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?”

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home.

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung.

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true.

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin.

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick.

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life.

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles.

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him.

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home.

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways.

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover.

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs.

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip.

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand.

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual.

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet.

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass.

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon.

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no– I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment.

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.”

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair.

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you.” you say first this time.

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony.

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless.

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs.

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter.

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?”

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin.

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room.

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks.

You nod, slowly.

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds.

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.”

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock.

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving.

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around.

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded.

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked.

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle.

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving.

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere.

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored.

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks.

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say.

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.”

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals.

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place.

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips.

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

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kirbybecomesastarwarrior · 2 days

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Lady Celestine: Navigator of the Constellations:

The Forgotten Hero of Yore

The Merlyn of the KBASW (AU) & the love of Arthur's life.

Just to be clear Merlyn & Celestine are the same person it's just her disguise when she goes out.

For: @kirbyoctournament

Character Overview/Personality: She's the combination of Merlin from Disney's Sword & the Stone, Queen Eclipsa from SVTFW, Willy Wonka from (Wonka 2023 ), and Merlin from (the 2008 TV series).

She's an optimist... many of her peers mistake it for being naivety but in reality she's well aware of the darkness in the world... she sees it every day with her powers. Since seeing so many terrible things in the future she treasures the present and is always grateful for the things she enjoys in the now. (Also there's another reason for this....)

And finds the joy in the darkest of times...

She likes to be overly prepared... And tend to keep (*hoard) things they might need... Often tends to hold things she doesn't really need. With Arthus side eying her "You really need to keep that."

"Don't look at me like that Wart... WE MAY NEED THIS HARPOON ONE DAY WHO KNOWS & YOU'LL THANK ME LATER !" *proceeds to carry bloody harpoon home... with Arthur facepalming himself*

They actually did end up using that harpoon 3 months later & Celestine rubbed it in Arthur's face for an entire week. This constant hoarding led her to the first iteration of the Dimensional Cape, which started as a dimensional bag to store all her stuff. (LMAO).

This brings me to Celestine's wisdom & sass: similar to Merlin (the series & Disney) is filled with cleverness & comebacks. When she's doing her diplomatic work and out and about she knows how to do it "gracefully."But when she transforms into Merlyn, she lets loose exactly how Merlin is when he becomes Dragoon. Has no filter and becomes a chaotic old man throwing shade left & right

She hates' cursing so as resulting in hilarious, nonsensical words to place them: Fiddle sticks, biscuits, sweet butter crumpets, etc ~

Her future sight has made her a very empathic person... knowing the suffering of others in her visions. Creating a very kind, caring individual who wants the best for everyone, for them to be happy.

Keep reading for extra content & lore: (Which include spoilers for KBASW so tread carefully!) Other than that please continue...

Lore related content: (If you just want a short read)

In Denial (Oldest lore)

What Kind of King's in My Blood (Background info)

Celestine is Merlyn: (Most Current lore)

And fair warning I low-key wrote a novel... but there's a special prize at the end if you read all of it. (Extended Lore)

Lady Celestine serves as a catalyst for the anime Kirby series...

Now Celestine can't predict the exact future... only show potential paths. But her powers can guide people to the outcome they want and the path that constantly changing.

Absolom made Celestine focus solely on her future vision and trained her personally... He tried to paint himself as this kind saintly father figure towards her... but in reality, wanted to monopolize her ability.

He tremendous amount of pressure on the poor girl...(Mother Gothel Style "Mother knows best) Believing the only thing that made her valuable was her future sight. And one more thing about Celestine... SHE HATED HER FUTURE VISION! She didn't just see the future... she experienced it! Feeling all the raw emotions of the scene.

However, Absolum would guilt-trip her: "Oh you don't want to let everyone down... you're the only one who can do this... you're so special... you can't disappoint everyone..:

Causing her to grit her teeth and bear with it... Absolum was like a father to her she couldn't say "No." Plus it's not like she could let them down... One day she had a terrible vision foreshadowing the demise of Shiver Star...

The people of Shiver Star were infected by Dark Matter's essence... Nightmare & his demons robbed them and stole all the planet's resources... while the people were possessed and had their life sources absorbed by Dark Matter.

Celestine immediately ran to the other Heroes of Yore & Absolum.... for this and assured the worried child they'd take care of this... "don't worry we'll use this information and take care of it."

And they didn't just take care of it... THEY MADE IT WORSE! Seeing an even more terrible vision appeared before her.

Celestine: Wait I thought you said you'd-

Absolum: Oh but my child we did you said that planet was a goner anyway... they were already possessed.... it would be so wasteful if all those resources would fall to Nightmare...

Sir Uther: We cleared out the planet before Nightmare did. And killed all of those who were going to be infected & spread it throughout the galaxy... we prevented the problem before it even happened...*gives a wicked smile*

Absolum: Yes we couldn't have done it without you *gives a wicked smile*

Celestine couldn't help but blame herself for the downfall of Shiver Star... A few hours later Celestine's warpstar cracked-

"No problem... I think," Absolum

To remedy the situation, Absolum tried to fame concern for her but in reality was keeping her in the temple to hide that she was "broken." She could still tell fortunes just at random, they just had to keep her near the temple and store them whenever they came to her.

Absolum was still reeling at how could this happen... he didn't want to expose his little mistake. (In truth he knew he was working too hard and put her to work earlier than most, because of her ability... CHILD LABOR AM I RIGHT?!.) It was still too valuable, they can't risk having her break some more...

Thus, Celestine became a caged bird.

Uther felt that she was a failure unbecoming of a Hero of Yore and not deserving of her title. She can no longer do the ability properly and with her body always hurting how was she going to fight on the battlefield!

Along with that thought she be too emotional anyway... always trying to steer them to the future... the least amount of damage... HE WANTED PROGRESS! Often opting for the method that would get him results not caring about the collateral damage!

Icarus shares in Uther's sentiments, with the added notion that she got away with lazying around doing nothing. Just got to sit there waiting for the next prediction to come around. He & Uther were doing all the heavy lifting and she was still being treasured by Absolum... (he wasn't jealous of the attention or anything...)

Thus resulting in Icarus having the brilliant idea of sticking Celestine with all the political fairs (the paperwork). Which seemed like a good idea at the time (a decision they would all come to regret).

Unbeknownst to them... they had given Celestine all the diplomatic power in the galactic court. Managing to win over the galactic council with her charm and grace. Uther had always used his power to intimidate his ideals.

However, Celestine had a softer approach and was seen as far more likable in the... (this was before the council was corrupt and this was due to Celestine's influence...) Often resulting in the members to come to her for their problems. Uther couldn't beat her in this arena... being reminded all too well this was a political battle as well.

For Icarus, you see there was a... certain deal he wanted to part take in... a deal with Halacandra. Where did the GSA partner up with and believe that he could easily impress with his inventions... with their queen?! ( Minerva Mim - Magolor's great aunt)

What happened... the king was supposed to be here whys he spent an entire month sucking up to him who was this queen...

The queen was not impressed & ended up showing technology far greater than his... for the first time, Icarus was forced to eat humble pie... "How could this have, surely this is some sort of mistake shouldn't the king be here-"

"Oh he's dead... and unlike him, I'm not to be won over by pretty words and flattery now you offend me... why would I ever want to do business with a lowlife with you!"

Madam made sure to inform the GSA they would not be doing business with them & Absolum desperately wanted to get that deal. Then Celestine volunteered to remedy the situation & suggested inviting her here.

Absolum agrees seeing there is nothing to lose, Uther believes this was just a desperate attempt to try to be useful while Icarus is excitedly waiting for her to fail.

Meeting arrives Celestine takes care of everything personally and at the end of the day. Queen Minerva is all smiles and arrives with a contract, "Alright I've changed my mind, and I'll do the deal as long as I'm working with her."

Minerva wasn't interested in Icarus' inventions but Celestine's alchemic formulas were revolutionary. And just had to have her on their team.

Absolum was shocked and relieved... (maybe this girl had more than one use after all...) and was constantly praising her. And because of her connections with Minerva... she'll need a bodyguard now when she leaves the GSA base but what the why it was worth it.

And Icarus oh how badly he wanted to be part of the mixing pot, but he had to go through Celestine. Who was more than happy to reject his proposal and experiments. (Icarus never forgave her for this.)

She was becoming too influential now ... This resulted in Icarus scheming with Uther... to get rid of her.

Thus beginning the creations of the Ancients & the Halcandrans, with Celestine & Minerva leading the helm. Alongside Dairus Drosselmeyer (Minerva's right-hand man & Daroach's great uncle)... they created many of the legendary treasures... that were now scattered about the galaxy.

(These were kept secret from the GSA... Minerva knew the truth of the situation... for you see during the meeting she had hidden away Kirby's prediction not of him just defeating Nightmare, but the reawakening of Void Termina & Doomsday... and showed it to the Queen and she understood... that's the other reason why she said yes to her)

Minerva helps Celestine create the Kabu's across the galaxy and presents them as "safe houses for star warriors" but in reality, they were all preset guides to Kirby's prophecy.

And helped her create Triple Star... Thus the creating the vigilante Merlyn.... Her work as Merlyn didn't go unnoticed and the people of the galaxy started to recognize the hypocrisy of the GSA. Which made the Ancients & the other's blood boil.

This resulted in having Uther send in his send three of his best soldiers: Sir Nonsurat, Dame Morgan, and last but not least (you guessed it WART... I mean Sir Arthur.)

Kirby's prophecy spoke of "a match" to start the spark that would flame of a new era of peace...

Arthur- Match/ Meta Knight - Spark/Kirby - Flame

At the time she didn't know who it was; the prophecy was incredibly vague with which one it was. But she wasn't going to pass her knowledge to any of them without being sure. (She didn't want another Shiver Star incident to happen... not again...)

But know would she determine which one it would be... they all seemed the most unlikely candidates as "the match." How could she weed out which one... A TRAIL, A TEST, A GAME!

So like in tales of old, Celestine did these little tests of character... and would secretly tag along during missions. Giving them all a chance to see which one it would participate in... Giving them little riddles of the monster Nightmare would do. But she always gave them a choice... (bread crumbing) can't face anyone to change.

However, three of them all seem annoyed at this except for... Sir Arthur was the only one captivated and interested. It takes a while for Arthur to accept Merlyn's but only after the events of:

What Kind of King is in My Blood:

That makes him actively ask for Merlyn (Celestine to help him change) and pretty much becomes Celestine's partner in crime. And as to become a willing student... merely wishing not to become like his master (Sir Uther).

However, their little sparring match still happening, with the condition that he should win... Merlyn's not allowed to be called him Wart... (Needless to say she fought him twice as hard.)

(This post-Celestine is Merlyn:) It goes into more detail about their relationship here but... I added a few things.

Romantic feelings only start after that...

Basically, before they knew they were head-over-heals for each other their love could never be in reality. Not just because of their positions but something else...

After her warpstar broke... she received a terrible vision of her body eventually breaking and her disappearing into star dust. Foreseeing her early death...

She had initially accepted but after all the friends she made (and falling in love with Arthur) she did everything she could to stay longer for them... Celestine tried to keep herself together as long as she could, and managed to keep herself alive a little longer (than she was supposed to) but now she could feel it... she was running out of time.

How was she supposed to tell her everyone... Minerva would be devastated, who was going to help Darius (& Minerva) with his creations, who would protect her followers, and stop Uther & Icarus from making the galaxy into a wasteland...

And worst of all she'd leave Arthur all alone & heartbroken. Who's supposed to tease him now, make sure he doesn't do anything reckless, keep that ego in check, make sure he isn't a prat, to remind him to smile and enjoy life... to laugh... oh her poor little Wart...

No there must be another way...she couldn't tell any of her friends... she wasn't giving up yet... However, little did she know that was the least of her worries...

Celestine was always careful with hiding her connections with her alter-ego... and Arthur, but there was one person who did figure this out. Sir Nonsurat; after Arthur had saved "Merlyn" from his grasp he started to see a pattern.

Arthur had been an accomplice to Merlyn's along... "HOW DARE ARTHUR, I KNEW YOU NEVER DESERVED YOUR POSITION AND WITH THIS YOU WILL BE RUINED FOR SURE."

Thus, Celestine received numerous horrible visions (she got them all at once)... of Arthur being found guilty in a trial. And at the end of each, Arthur had refused to sell her out, remaining loyal to her, confessing his love for her, and dying. And then she saw her demise as well... her body finally breaking right after... poofing into stardust.

Being completely overwhelmed, she burst into tears. Desperately searching for a future where they could both live... (a future where she could be happy with him.) However, it was either that she & Arthur had escaped and her body would explode and Arthur would be captured (by the GSA) and executed right after for his desertion).

Celestine couldn't help but believe that she had destroyed Arthur's future all because she had gotten involved... (it was Shiver Star all over again.) Just like in the other futures... what could she possibly do...

Perhaps...she could solve one problem with another...

So, before the day Nonsurat was going to turn in his report of evidence... Celestine had stolen it away. And with the help of Darius, they manipulated the information to frame someone else...

Nonsurat was infuriated once he found his evidence to be stolen... But he didn't want to cause an uproar, so he demanded a completed search of every squadron. Under the pretext "there is a traitor among us, and they've stolen my documents..."

A complete search required every general to be accounted for. Nonsurat observed Arthur carefully only to find him especially giddy!?

Arthur: I do hope the search is finished soon... The sooner we finish here the sooner I can give Celestine this-

Kit Cosmo: Code red! Everyone needs to come to the Courtyard immediately! Were under attack!

Arthur: By who?!

Kit Cosmo: By... Lady Celestine...

(She had already known Icarus was trying to take her down... so using her Nonsurat's evidence, she had successfully framed herself... handing it in in the guise of one of Icarus' informants.)

With the information he had put together and received, Sir Icarus concocted a false trail that Celestine was leaking information and was secretly in cahoots... with Merlyn.

Since it was a trial that involved someone as high-ranking as her... she knew the trial would exclude a select few. And since she knew Nonsurat would warrant a search... she knew it would be the perfect thing to keep Arthur out of the trail.

Celestine: Well, if I am going to get locked away... I might as well make it worth the sentencing.

It was at this moment that Celestine unleashed her demonic owl (she had hidden away) and bit off his head Absolum; killing him instantly. (Madoka Magica style). Icarus tried to stop her but failed Celestine resulting in his wings being ripped off. And officially went on a rampage letting out all those years of unbridled rage & sorrow she had kept in.

Then she remembered quickly about Kirby's prediction... quickly she created her own army of Hydro Clones... to leave them all at bay.

She went into her lab and quarters and destroyed every piece of magical research and Alchemic formula. She wasn't going to let them benefit & use her research any longer and most importantly to keep Kirby's predictions... but one person who managed to get through the army... it was none other than Uther.

Uther: I always knew you were a little witch~

Celestine: That was a sham trial & you know it ... You forced my hand

Uther: You should; 've stayed in your place, someone weak as you, you are not worthy of your spot as a Hero of Yore-

Celestine: Well you are not worthy of your spot as leader! You never were and one day you'll fall you'll see *at that moment Celestine received another vision-*

At that moment Uther thought this was the perfect chance to lung at her but this backfired... he accidentally ended up seeing Celestine's vision too... And it visibly shook him to his core.

Being overwhelmed by the very visions that plague Celestine, (claiming before she was emotionally weak, was causing him to be paralyzed by fear...) It was a vision of his throne crumbling down& everything he built and it was being led by one astral... he couldn't make out the face... was... was it pink...

Celestine tried to pull away so he couldn't see the rest of the vision... and ended up striking his right eye to stop him... Uther was left frozen while Celestine could feel her body about to break and desperately made her escape... But as she stormed out...

Uther: Will make sure you're vision will not come to pass I will find that pink warrior if it's the last thing I do... And I'll- you'll die by my blade gah- *Still paralyzed because of the vision & couldn't get up

Celestine: Sorry Uther... but I'm afraid that honor won't go to you...*runs out to find Arthur* I've already selected my champion...

In the commotion, Arthur manages to find her, desperate he reaches, Celestine:

Arthur: We have to... you need to run-

Celestine: Graduation time Wart *sees a cast of other soldiers & on-looker watching* - Let's see what you're made of! Just treat it as one of our sparring matches and we'll be fine-

After all the losses in their sparing matches, Arthur finally manages to beat Celestine... "Well done, Arthur- you've finally done it, you've w-" * Visibly starts to break... and falls- and Arthur catches her

(Celestine pulls up a smokescreen so no one can see them... however, three people manage to sneak in)

Arthur: Celestine, what's happening to you-

Celestine: I've come to the end of my time- due to my condition my body was bound to break... I didn't mean to hide it... I really thought I could beat the odds... I'm sorry War- Oh I guess I can't call you Wart-

Arthur: NO! If that's the case you weren't in the best condition- *starts crying* I didn't really win-, you have to stay *sobs profusely* You have to stay and call me Wa-Wart!

Celestine: Figures *chuckles...* it takes you this long to finally admit you like the nickname ... Thank you Arthur you made my life short all the worthwhile... I hope you can forgive me

Arthur: There's nothing to forgive Cel- Celty, *cries* I love you, please there is always something... There's always, you told me that... You're the greatest mage in the galaxy... there's got to be...

Celestine: I surely hope that light of you doesn't get snuffed out *smiles warmly* it's going to be hard Wart but remember this...

Keep your eyes open and beware of the bad in the world... but also hold on to the good as well... you don't have to look, just know that it's there... it'll keep you from falling...

(the quote that Meta Knight said to Kirby originally came from Sir Arthur... that was told to me from Celestine...)

And even should you lose your way I know you'll find it again... you'll always be a worthy king to me. I love you too Arthur... and I always will.... (*they share one passionate kiss*)

It was an Arthur had so longed for, but it was lace with so much sorrow and joy all at the same time....

Arthur: I don't wanna let you go-* Gets knocked out by Minerva...

She had informed Minerva before the trial (and of course was devastated but was willing to fulfill her last request). And who stood behind her were Darius & Kit the only three witnesses to what really happened. Kit realizes that Celestine is Merlyn... She then handed off and knocked out Arthur to Darius & Kit Cosmo.

And made sure they promised to paint Arthur as the hero who defeated her. And fled the scene and Minerva went to her best friend and hugged her one last time... and fled with the others.

When they had all left to safety... she lifted the smoke screen only to see a hoard of Ancients led by Uther try to arrest her. She flew into the air Celestine had her Gravity wicked moment... as her body finally was about to shatter into pieces.

Celestine: I curse you all, *putting one final spell cursing the Ancients* (basically she's the reason why they all disappeared)

As her body started to implode they mistook it to be a suicide bombing and she was planning to take them all down with her... thinking quick the Ancients Crystalized to prevent the explosion...

But in that moment she has one final vision of Arthur taking the seat as leader of the GSA. She smiles and says "I always you could do it Wart *starts cry* It's just too bad I'll never be able to see it in person".

Arthur woke up in the hospital wing hearing... Darius & Kit recount the story of the incident. With the way Kit & Darius spun it was Arthur who saved the day... (Arthur realized this was all part of Celestine's plan: to give him a title that would protect him even when she was gone...) Arthur * began to weep* with Kit trying to comfort him the best he could...

Making Arthur (to the Ancients) irreplaceable... being able to take down a Hero of Yore when they (Icarus & Uther) could not. Being extremely grateful (and needing a new holy figure), gave him the title of "Holy Knight," and said they owed him one favor...

(So basically he got credit for defeating the love of his life & took her place as the GSA's holy figure...)

So in summary:

Before being detained, she managed to rip off Icarus' wings, blind Uther in his right eye, and kill about 500 Ancients. She was trying to escape only to be stopped by Sir Arthur, who defeated her in battle. But tried to escape only to be cornered by the remaining soldiers... and seeing she had nowhere else to run...

Despite the efforts of the Ancients to paint her as wicked, people could not believe in the shame of a trial. Especially Minerva, when she heard this false slander on her best friend (she had enough of it)... she declared Halcandra's formal separation from the GSA. Cutting them from Halcandra's advanced technology caused an even bigger scandal. And had put her down to silence her as well... removing her...

(What happened to Darius... well that's a story for later)

Ruining their reputation even further... destroying the pristine image they had built up until now. And those who were at the trail were split in the middle... On one hand, it seemed like she had gone on a rampage because of her unfair judgment and merely reacted because she was pushed into the corner. On the other hand, she had always been hiding away her true nature & hatred for all of them, and once she had been found out... she unleashed all of it.

Were both true...

As a result, the Ancients tried to erase her from existence... from the galaxy, with only the remaining Ancients & the Heroes of Yore remembering her... Celestine had become forgotten.` Basically, she was described as (by the Ancients) the unspeakable third who tried to destroy them all & maliciously take them down with her. And she had to be erased...

However, this did not remedy the situation... Uther was still haunted by Celestine's vision he must hunt down the pink warrior... he will not have his reign end. Icarus was all too happy to take over the Halcandra projects... however, was always constantly reminded of being reduced to flightless astral and still hates her to this day.

While everyone had forgotten Celestine: they all remembered Merlyn. But even though, "Merlyn" had become a legend, many doubted the actual existence... of this supernatural being.

However, there was one person who managed to remember her... and that's where her story ends...

Or maybe not...

Her crystallization saved her preventing her from exploding... So she was still alive in there. They tried to hide her crystal in a cave and seal it off so no one would find her... Little did they know that the cave held one of the dark portals of Morpho accidentally ending up in the underworld...

And guess who ends up accidentally winds up there.

BTW they got married in the Underworld

I actually planned this out to be a tragedy, but I ended up making them have a happy ending... (that I can't reveal just yet how it happens in the story)

BUT BEST BELIEVE OUR GIRL GETS EVERYTHING SHE DESERVES AND SITS ON THE THRONE WITH HER KING WHERE SHE BELONGS!

And if you read this long thank you for reading! <3

#kirby #kbasw #lady celestine #kirby oc tournament #sir arthur kirby #kirby oc #kirbyoctournament #sorry for taking so long #home I'm not too late #celarthur #merthur

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inkareds · 1 day

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I, Carrion - Hozier Daemon Targaryen 5/10 - Unreal Unearth Event

nav // event masterlist // hotd m.list (tba) // ko-fi // taglist

✧.* word count: 8.8k (long boy) ✧.* genre: angst -> comfort // sfw (but adult themes) ✧.* warnings: slow burn-ish, the reader is female, Otto and Alicent are minor villains, details of sickness (Daemon not reader lmao)

"Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We'll float away, but if we fall // I only pray, don't fall away from me"

Being the last member of a noble house was difficult, and the fact that you were a woman made it even more difficult. Surprisingly, you've found comfort in the Rogue Prince, and even more surprising when he finds comfort in you. A comfort built on mutual affection and respect, something a certain someone in court feels threatened by

Parts of this story were inspired by The Crucible, you'll know what I mean after you've read the story. Also hiiiii, I'm so happy to be back from my LONG hiatus, I'm feeling a lot better and hopefully will get into the writing groove back!

As always, lyric and story breakdown at the end of the story

Your mother died on the birthing bed, she had fought valiantly, screaming, crying, and clawing at the sheets trying to push you, her firstborn, out.

When you echoed your first cries, your father came into the room, he held your mother’s hand and wept, the last thing she spoke was a plea to your father to love their daughter and to give it a name she chose.

Your father honoured this last wish of your mother as she died.

He raised you with nothing but a doting sort of love but he knew his time was limited.

The Gods had not been kind to him or your mother, you were their first child in over ten years of marriage and in your birth, you had taken your mother. Because of this, your father found no more reason to remarry. His heart belonged wholly to your mother, he gave everything to her and in return to you, the last thing he has of her.

Though that meant the extinction of his house once you marry or pass on, he doesn’t seem to mind it. He did fear for you, now ten and eight years of age.

He feared for what would become of you once he dies, with no more kin to lean on and coming from a house that wasn’t as powerful as most others in your region, he wishes for you to live in content.

So one day when a raven is sent out to many noble houses in search of a lady-in-waiting for the young Princess Rhaenyra, your father jumped at the opportunity. You were close of age to her and her other lady-in-waiting lady Alicent Hightower, though you were slightly older. He found this to be the perfect opportunity.

After consolidating with you, he sends you off to King’s Landing with the hopes of interesting the princess enough that you’d become her lady-in-waiting. Much to his joy the princess was taken by you.

You were straightforward and spoke rather brazenly compared to the other prim and proper ladies. Something Rhaenyra loved. You quickly wrote to your father about how she told you that you amused her greatly and that she admires your sharp words and quick wit.

After being chosen as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Rhaenyra, you came home only to retrieve your belongings before moving to live in King’s Landing. Your father had wept in private with you before you left, you were the last thing he had of your mother and though you did not know her, he says that you were quite similar to her. In that way, he felt if he could give you a content life, he’d be giving an extension of her another content life.

“Promise me you’ll survive there, surrounded by dragons, you have to be strong, my beautiful daughter.” He weeps as he pulls you closer to him.

Your father was old, older than what most men were when they had their firstborn, and so you knew he didn’t have long left. With what little time the Gods give him, you want to make him proud and happy.

“I will father, I will keep both you and mother in my heart.” Your father pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Then promise me you’ll survive no matter what, you’ll live and you shall thrive.” He looks at you with determination shining in his eyes.

“I swear to you, I will not let those courtly dragons drag me down.”

With that, you left your home for King’s Landing.

It wasn’t much different, you weren’t from rigid lands like Dorne or Winterfell, so the weather didn’t bother you much. What did bother you was the social customs that you were expected to adhere to.

Back home, your house was small but highly respected by the common folk around you as well as the other noble houses around you. Seeing as how in, what most assume, a couple of years you will be the last of your house, the noblemen and women of your lands gave you much more freedom than most women.

You didn’t butter your words and spoke with an ardent fever when the topic would land on one of the many you were well-educated in. That was another thing you found ridiculous, the only women that were highly educated seemed to be the highest nobles. And those were Lady Alicent and the Princess herself. Those two were the only ones you found you could talk to.

Whilst the men, as knowledgeable as they were, were rude and distasteful. You had found no comfort in court and found it difficult to hide your sneer any time anyone second-guessed Rhaenyra’s position as a princess and her father’s firstborn.

The two of you shared a bond unlike any other, you were your father’s firstborn, just as she is. But unlike her, you hold none of the pressures she has from everyone around her to rise above her station while sitting prim and proper as the perfect lady. So she blossoms whenever she speaks to you, in you she sees a different side of the coin she resided in.

And when her uncle comes to visit, let’s just say, her interest in you grows exponentially.

“Prince Daemon, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance once more.” You curtsied at him when he caught you walking through the garden.

The roguish prince grinned.

“Might I ask why my niece’s attendant is roaming around without my niece at sight?” He nears you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is studying with her Septa, my prince, during her lessons I am not with her.” You explained to him.

After a few years of attending to Rhaenyra, you have met Daemon repeatedly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the prince quite charming, in a sly way. What little conversations you’ve had with him, he’d found humour and entertained your sharp tongue. Not to mention he actually speaks to you when topics of your knowledge come into the conversation. Unlike many of the men here who then go on a tirade about the topic, boasting about their knowledge, completely ignoring any of your statements.

“May I ask what troubles you?” You ask when you see him observing you.

"Do you think Rhaenyra is suited for the throne?"

The sudden serious question caught you off guard. Though you tried to answer as honestly as possible, knowing the Prince would find it more favourable.

"Of course, I do, she is the king's firstborn, knowledgeable, headstrong, and stubborn. This realm needs a strong leader, not one easily swayed by their court,” you paused, deciding to poke the bear, or in this case, the dragon, “I hope I could trust you not to misconstrued my words and twist them in court, my Prince.” You grinned.

Daemon chuckled, letting his head fall back ever so slightly as he took a step towards you.

“Now why would I do that?”

Your eyes focused on him, “Perhaps to take all of the Princess’ attention? I do see the way you look at her, my Prince. I may not be well-accustomed to the queer traditions of the old Valyrians, but I am not blind. Perhaps you are jealous she’s spending her time with me and wishes to rid of me.”

Standing in the deserted gardens nestled deep in the Keep, Daemon takes another step closer to you, pressuring you to take a step backwards. Yet you stand your ground, unwilling to let the invisible strings of tension pull you back as he pushes you forward with his noble visage.

“You are one of the last interesting people in this keep. Dare I say, with a tongue like that and a mind like yours, if you were born a man you’d have been seated somewhere in my brother’s court. But alas, you were born to be the last of your house.”

At the slight snide comment of your house, all but little of your playfulness dissipated. Of course, you understood the dire situation of your house, but you would be a fool to let its name be tarnished and insulted.

“Alas, unfortunately so, if that is all you wish to say to me, then I shall take my leave,” you tilted your head upwards before lightly bowing and turning to leave.

Daemon sighed with a tired smile before reaching out to grab your arm.

“Are all southerners brass and easily emotional?” He remarks, causing a humourless and graceless fake smile to fill your expression.

“If I am as emotional as you say I am I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to roll my eyes at your words. Yet, here I am, still smiling, it seems I’m less emotional than you think I am, Prince Daemon.” You spoke the last words through gritted teeth, clearly showing your sarcasm.

“As much as I do enjoy our banter, I did come here to talk business, though it seems you had distracted me.” At his statement, your brows furrowed and finally, you turned towards him. Seeing as you don’t seem to walk away, Daemon lets go of your arm. “There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

Little hound, the nickname that used to make your blood boil as a child. Your house sigil consisted of the body of a bloodhound, standing regal with its head held up high and one paw in the air. It perfectly encapsulated your house’s longstanding history as a loyal and trustworthy house with a mind unlike any other. Your father gave you the nickname when you were younger as you would play with the pups and dogs near the farms.

Later on, the nickname would catch on through the common folk. Little hound they called you. When Daemon first spoke of it, he spoke as if it was an insult. The little hound, the last of the bloodhounds of your house.

But now it sounded different.

“I would watch your back much closer,” he leaned closer to almost whisper to your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’d hate for my favourite source of entertainment to disappear.”

As quickly as he got serious, the boyish bravado and ease came back, Daemon pulled away, taking a step backwards to create some space between the two of you. Right before you open your mouth to inquire him about the statement, another voice joins you.

“There you are, I had been looking everywhere for you.”

You quickly looked back at the sound of the Princess’s voice. The young Rhaenyra stood there with a smile upon meeting your gaze, though that very smile dropped into a mischievous glint when she saw that Daemon was with you.

“Uncle, I did not know you had returned from your travels.” Rhaenyra spoke walking towards the both of you.

“Niece,” he greeted, “I had just arrived in port at midday.”

Rhaenyra smiled though it looked more like a mischievous grin than anything. “Ah I see, and you had immediately gone to find my lady-in-waiting have you?”

Ah, the Princess Rhaenyra, ever the lady without a filter covering her mouth. You wanted to grit your teeth and tell her she shouldn’t be saying things so easily, but you knew she’d simply call you a hypocrite.

“I do enjoy seeing her face every once and a while, niece.” Daemon glanced slightly at you before going back to look at his niece.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his flirtatious ministrations.

“Hm, well, if all you wish is to see her face I believe that wish has been granted. Now the lady and I must go.” Rhaenyra took her hand in yours and quickly began pulling you away.

You heard Daemon chuckle to himself right before you were out of earshot.

“Do tell me you aren’t trying to bed my uncle.” Rhaenyra spoke, no sense of malice in her words, only humour.

“By the six, I would never bed a married man, my lady. The Prince is far from my type of men anyways.” At that, Rhaenyra quirks her brows.

“Do tell. What does a lady such as yourself look for in a suitor? Perhaps it would give me ideas for my own dream suitor.” She rolls her eyes at the last part of her statement.

Being by her side all the time and seeing her act regal and noble in front of her many subjects, you’ve almost forgotten that she is still a teenage girl. A teenage girl that bored of her mundane life of being looked down upon by the masses.

“Loyal.” You answered.

Ever since that day in the gardens, you’ve found yourself unable to sleep a lot of nights, your mind being flooded by images of Daemon. His whisper against your ear, his body close to your own. You found yourself needing to take a breather outside now and again. Almost always your body leads you back to the gardens.

The cooler air of the night comforted you and let go of any images of Daemon you would have.

Tonight was a tough night to swallow, though not due to the Rogue Prince. Quite the contrary, your mind was filled by your father. Recently you had gotten word that your father had passed in his sleep.

Old age has caught up with him and following his dying wish, his attendants and his beloved subjects buried him in the heart of the forest behind your old estate. The forest which you and your father had tracked down and killed much game before your stay in the keep.

In the letter, it detailed that he had died a few days prior from when you’d received the letter and that the funeral procession had ended. The reason you were not told of the funeral procession was due to your father’s other dying wish. He did not wish for you to be burdened by grief or the past.

He wanted his death to be just another event in your life, nothing major nor anything to bring concern to. Therefore he didn’t want you to travel all the way to your homeland just for his funeral. Something you gritted your teeth over.

How dare he decide what was best for you?

Now you were alone in this cruel and tainted world. A little hound alone in a den of dragons. How curious.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Daemon’s voice behind you was the last thing you expected to hear when you sat down on one of the many marble benches in the secluded garden. He walked towards the bench and sat beside you, watching the same sight.

A gorgeous splitting tree grew in the middle of the garden and in the dark of the night, its white flowers almost glowed in radiance. It reminded you slightly of the prince’s own white hair.

“My father died a few fortnights ago,” you didn’t know what compelled you to open your heart to him at that moment. But you did and there was no turning back, “And now there is one.” You whispered into the night.

“You.” Daemon stated, causing you to nod.

“Yes, me,” a dry chuckle followed after. “What misfortune befell on my mother to have birthed a daughter instead of a son. You were right, my prince, had I been born a man my lineage would continue. Plenty more bloodhounds would be running around my estate and my house would not die out.”

You didn’t want to show weakness in front of the prince, not after all the work you’ve put in to fit into the social quo of the Keep. Yet, Daemon does not seem to care.

“I wouldn’t call it much of a misfortune. If you were born a man, I would not have found you half as beautiful.”

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, any other time a little voice in your head would tell you that your tongue would be cut off if you did that. But now you didn’t quite care. Your house was dead, you were just the final piece. Whether you died or lived, what legacy would you bring?

“What glory it is to be considered beautiful by a married man.”

Bitter were your words.

“The bronze bitch is dead.”

At the sudden rashness of his statement, your head whipped in his direction.

“My prince, apologies I did not know such news has befallen you-”

“Hah!” he laughed, “It is nothing more than good news. My marriage to her was loveless and lacked any sort of mutual respect. No,” he shook his head and turned towards you.

Both your eyes met and in a single second, you wondered if his violet eyes lit up in the dark much like the red of fire at midnight. You wouldn’t be all that shocked if Targaryens had that power along with the one to bond with dragons, as Daemon seemed to have another power up his sleeve. Enamouring you with his gaze.

“I came looking for you to ask for your hand.” Your brows quickly furrowed.

Your daze broke almost immediately.

“Pardon me, my prince?”

“I can take you to Dragonstone and wed you there in Old Valyrian customs. You once said you saw the way I looked at Princess Rhaenyra. But it seems you’re blinder than you thought. They weren’t for her,”

The cogs in your mind twisted and turned.

“They were for you.” He closed in.

Your breath was caught in your throat the moment he leaned in. Daemon’s lips were harsh against your own, despite the slowness of his approach he did not hold back in kissing you. In a single moment after you reciprocated, his hand was at the back of your neck, pushing you closer and deeper into him.

Both your eyes closed you could feel lightning striking through both your bodies, as he pulled you closer to him. Though right before your instinct pushed you to open your lips and let his tongue explore, your thoughts crashed into your mind.

You quickly pushed away and stood up from the marble bench, your chest heaved from the lack of oxygen and the adrenaline. Daemon quickly stood up as well seeing your bewildered expression.

“Why?” was your only question.

Why now?

Why me?

Why the haste?

Why-

Too many questions, yet all start with the word why.

You could see Daemon take a second to mull over his words, when he did figure out a response his hand reached towards your cheek. Lightly caressing it, a stark juxtaposition on how he had just been handling you moments before.

“Though I debated on asking for your hand after what you had just told me. I leave for Stepstones at dawn. I intend to make you a bride before then, just as I always hoped for many moons now.” He answered truthfully.

“You intend to fight the crab-feeder with Lord Corlys and his son?” You inquired, to which he nodded, awaiting your reaction.

You thought to yourself for a second then a soft smile crept into your face. “Then do not make me your wife tonight, make me your friend.” You held onto his hand as you continued. “Fate and death have touched my father. I do not wish for it to touch my husband. Wed me when you win the war, that way you’ll perhaps find something to look forward to when you fight against these warriors.”

A surprisingly warm smile befell on the Rogue Prince. He held onto your hand tighter and guided you back to sit down on the bench. An air of comfort and warmth blanketed the two of you in the cold desolate air.

That night, the two of you spent it in those very same gardens, talking to one another. Not a single drop of wine was shared between the two of you and yet your hearts were open. Not in the way of speaking truthfully but in a way much more intimate. As if the two of you could hear what is unspoken and read what was between the lines.

Both your minds and souls weaved together that very night. Entangling themselves into one another before the sun would rise and the spell would be broken. There was no need for a touch of passion to be shared. The company was all that mattered to the two of you.

Just as you were about to leave your room as the sun had just begun to peak from the horizon, Daemon stopped you.

A sense of deja vu rushed towards you, the scene of the last time the two of you were in the garden alone replayed in your mind.

This time no snide remarks were thrown, instead you turned towards him with no malice.

His hand held onto your wrist as he spoke, “As something to remember me by.” He stated as he procured a dainty bracelet with a gorgeous red ruby in the middle, he held your wrist and clipped it on.

“Valyrian steel, it shouldn’t tarnish nor break.”

Speechless, you spoke only what was in your heart. “Come back to me after the war ends and you’ve had your fill of adventure.”

The two of you shared one last kiss before you turned to leave.

The many months after went on as usual. Your friendship with Rhaenyra grew even stronger the moment she saw the Valyrian steel bracelet, immediately knowing it had to be from Daemon. She had been delighted to know of your and Daemon’s plans once he wins the war in the Stepstones. She yearns to have a true friend permanently within the court. Especially after Alicent’s marriage to her father.

Unfortunately, it was also due to that event that your relationship with Alicent slowly tarnished itself.

It seemed not only Rhaenyra realised the source of the bracelet you now wore every day. Otto Hightower was one of the many who had his suspicions. Whether you were another one of Daemon’s whores or if the rumours are true and you plan on wedding him. Otto knew you’d be a formidable opponent in his wishes for Aegon to be the king, for his blood to belong on the throne.

So he pulls Alicent away from you, to make what he was about to do easier.

One day a guard had called you over during one of your few alone times, seeing as Rhaenyra was with her Septa. The guard informed you that you have been called to trial under the eyes of King Viserys and the Seven. You didn’t know what was happening, but you weren’t a fool to not comply.

Daemon’s words echoed through your head the longer the walk took from your bed chambers to the small council’s room.

“There are snakes aiming to bite at your ankles, little hound. Keep a watchful eye.”

When you arrived at the small council meeting your worst fears were made into fruition. Inside the room was the whole small council including Alicent, which meant a good majority of them were people who didn’t like you.

Sir Harold called your name as you kept your eyes trained in front of you.

“You are trialled under the eye of King Viserys the first of his name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and under the watchful eye of the Seven. You are accused of dark witchcraft and conspiracy against the crown. How do you plead to these accusations.”

The suddenness of everything stunned you. Your brows furrowed and your eyes widened as your gaze flickered towards Alicent. She refused to look in your direction and so you immediately turned towards Otto, he was staring dead into your figure.

“Excuse me?” you finally croaked out, “My King, I assure you I have never done witchcraft in my life and I would never plot against the crown. My father died to put me here, I would never do anything that would harm my house’s name as the last living member of it.” You practically rambled feeling panic begin to bubble up against your throat.

There was a great silence in the room as you looked towards King Viserys. Despite being his daughter’s closest confidant, you didn’t have much interaction with the King himself, always so busy being pulled away by Otto. Realising the situation you found yourself in, you took in a deep shaky breath, swallowing the panic down as you gazed forward.

“I plead not guilty.” You needed to regain your composure, all you had to do was convince Viserys, which shouldn’t be too hard.

“I apologise for the formalities, I find this rather unimportant considering half of the things going on at this moment.” Viserys suddenly speaks with a sigh. “It’s clear my daughter’s lady-in-waiting is not a witch, now could we move on?”

“I understand why you might be fooled by her, my king, but as my daughter come forth she will show you undoubtable proof.”

With a sigh, Viserys nodded towards the young Alicent’s direction. Alicent walked with bated breath towards the table without a single glance in your direction.

Like clockwork, she placed a small doll made out of some scrap fabric roughly in the shape of a human proportion. However when she placed it down on the table the doll slightly tumbled forward and revealed its front.

Though there was stitching in the middle of the abdomen, it’s clear that someone had ripped parts of the stitching open, revealing the inside of the doll. Sheep wool mixed with hair, human hair in the same wool’s colour was stuffed within the doll.

This was no normal hair, it was Targaryen hair.

This was no doll or toy, it was a poppet.

“I had saw the increasing distance between the Princess Rhaenyra with my daughter after your marriage, my king, so I sent my daughter to reconcile with the princess. As the princess is usually seen with her lady-in-waiting, I sent Alicent to her room first. She returned to me in haste and panic, she had found a poppet under the lady’s carpet. A witch’s poppet, no doubt used to forsake you and your future male heir, my king.”

“Lies!” You quickly yelled out, causing the entire room to look at you. “I have never seen that poppet in my life!”

Seeing the way Viserys scrutinizes you underneath his gaze, panic bubbled up. Your eyes were blown wide you took a hurried step closer towards the council’s table. In a surprising response, the guards beside Viserys pulled out their swords. The blade aimed towards you. Your heart stopped in your chest.

“Stay where you are, witch.” Otto stated, looking around and seeing no one on your side you took a few steps backwards, going back to your previous position.

“Apologies for my outburst, your highness. But I can assure you, I’ve been framed. I’ve never seen a poppet in my life. I do not even know how to create one. My teachings are well documented by my septa from my homeland, if you wish to know of my good nature, ask my people. They know I would never forsake the throne.” You tried explaining yourself.

Viserys gritted his teeth as he reached out towards the poppet. Silence enveloped the room as people awaited his response. Using his fingers, Viserys pried the front open even more, and there he pulled one of the hair strands. It was long, longer than his hair. He recognised it as Rhaenyra’s. A gasp left you at the sight of it.

“This,” he glared at you, waving the poppet in the air, “This is blasphemy and conspiracy not only towards me but my daughter. You think I’d believe the words of a witch?”

“My king, please! I beg of you to believe me.” Ignoring all kinds of shame you dropped to your knees, urgency clawing at you. “I have been in the Princess’ service for a very long time. I see her as my closest friend, I would never do anything to harm her. If you must doubt my character, do not doubt the maids who clean and tend to my quarters. Surely they should’ve found it had I kept a poppet of the princess this entire time?!”

You tried reasoning with the king, even going so low as begging him. You didn’t know what to do. You knew what was happening, Otto Hightower. That reptile amongst dragons wanted to rid of you. But if you were to accuse him of treason, then your case would not stand. As it stands, Viserys trusted him more than you.

Viserys stayed silent, as did the court. No one spoke to defend you, no one spoke to scrutinize you. Because the end was clear. The king looked at you with contempt.

“Please.” You made a final plea.

“For your crimes, I would sentence you to an execution.” You wanted to scream but your pride wouldn’t let you. “But I appreciate and take account of the many years you have spent under the servitude of my daughter. For that, I sentence you to banishment. Leave Westeros at the first boat towards Essos. I’ll allow a single bag of your belongings to carry with you. What you do then will not be of any concern to me. Leave.”

What followed after came in quick succession.

First, all your pleas and desperation dissipated. In its place was hot, flaming anger. Any and all niceties disappeared from you as you walked out of the room with a glare.

Second, your maids were standing waiting for you in your room. Their heads bowed low as they try not to look into your eyes. They know the charges were false, they know you were framed. But they also knew they could not do anything, so you sighed silently and packed what was necessary.

Your father had you taught all the necessary things a lady needed to know. How to sew, how to weave, how to speak, and how to enamour. But he had also taught you all the necessary things a lord needed to know.

With no one else to lend down his knowledge, it was all for you. He taught you how to hunt, how to build a fire, how to fight, and most of all, how to survive.

Third, you were sent off in a boat to Essos to Gods knows where. With only Alicent and Otto to watch and make sure you were truly leaving, your princess on the other side of Westeros finding suitors, and the man you love fighting in a war– you swore to yourself.

You will survive.

Daemon returned not a moon cycle after your banishment. Surprising everyone, Rhaenyra came minutes after Caraxes landed in the dragon pit. She had ended her tour early and Daemon had won the war. It was both a momentous and a frustrating day for Viserys.

The war in the Stepstones was won and Daemon had bowed to him in front of his entire court. That very event warranted a celebration.

Almost immediately the kitchens bustled to life, the servants prepared delicacies and parties.

As Viserys laughed at stories from both his and his brother’s youth, Daemon could not help but let his eyes wander. He had known of Rhaenyra’s tour in search of a suitor. He had also known you had not gone with her for reasons unknown. So he had expected you to be here now to celebrate his win.

He had planned on whisking you away in the night like that day he swore himself to you, bringing you to Dragonstone, and finally wed you, just as he promised.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found.

When Daemon found out about your banishment, the Keep found out how irrational the Rogue Prince could be. Not a moment later, he mounted Caraxes and left King’s Landing for Essos, leaving behind an array of shouts and arguments with both his brother and the King’s hand.

Rhaenyra didn’t take it any less lightly either. Though she could not simply fly off to a distant continent, she made sure her distaste and anger were felt across the estate. Any and all attempts of Alicent to speak to her were all brushed away harsher and colder than last time. In a bout of rebellion, the princess halted speaking with her father for a long period of time.

But just as time continues to move on, so do people. After many soldiers and men were sent off to Essos to look for Daemon, the Rogue Prince finally returned. Muck and dirt stuck to his body like skin. From his eyes, everyone knew not to set him off.

The prince wreaked havoc with his gold cloaks not long after. Loyal only to him, the soldiers became increasingly harsher in their punishments, all at his order.

Viserys never knew true anger as when he had thought Daemon had had his fill of violence and asked him to marry Laena Velaryon, to strengthen ties between house Velaryon and Targaryen.

The lady was a friend of his, just as Rhaenyra is. But the anger that overtook Daemon at the mere idea of his brother banishing the woman he loved, only to send him away once more to marry someone else burned within him.

Arguments, insults, and threats were poured upon them like wine on a wedding night. The keep did not know peace for a long time after that.

However what did end up happening was that Laena Velaryon married another nobleman, and from her came Baela and Rhaena. Daemon would stay in Driftmark with Laena, all to cause gossip and havoc within King’s Landing and to cause even more of a headache to his brother.

There he witnessed her husband’s untimely death due to an accident and her own during childbirth. He saw the way Laena’s body burned up in flames, leaving both Rhaena and Baela alone in the world. Just like that, he has lost another friend.

In a single moment, he had thought about you. To the last night, he saw you. The two of you basking in the moonlight as you told him about your mother. Her untimely death. Seeing the way it tore you apart, he took it upon himself to take the two girls as wards of his family. He raised them as if they were his own. A part of him wondered what you’d think of him if he saw you. How he wished sometimes as he looked into the eyes of Baela and Rhaena after he comforted them of their mother’s death, that he was looking into the eyes of your daughters. The daughters he could imagine himself having with you.

Would they have his platinum hair or would they have yours? Perhaps your eyes, though purple would look gorgeous. At night when he slumbers, he imagines and dreams about them.

Children of his own with you. Be it two daughters like Laenas or three sons like Rhaenyra. He imagines them with your smile and mind, soft, comforting, but sharp and precise. From him, he hoped they’d have his tenacity, his edge for battle, his stubbornness, and perhaps his love for their mother as well.

But when the sun rises and he wakes, they stay in his dreams. Forever missing.

Perhaps it was bitterness, perhaps it was anger, or perhaps it was something as simple as pettiness. But he knew the whole reason he pushed Rhaenyra for the war was because he urged for revenge.

Then when that day came, the day when the Gods cried and thunder ripped through the sky, he held too many regrets as he leapt from Caraxes and plunged Dark Sister deep into his niece’s good eye.

The battle above God’s Eye was a brutal one.

Vhagar, a war dragon in her own right, yet slow from age, against Caraxes, the blood wyrm, the only dragon which can match Daemon’s bloodlust and anger, but always blinded by his rider’s emotions.

Then Daemon, the Rogue Prince, fuelled by pure rage and revenge which boiled within him for years before his opponent was even born, against Aemond, the one-eyed-prince, who knows nothing but the desperate and filthy feeling of wanting to make good of his name.

Their fight raged for what seemed like forever.

The sky cracked and burned with lightning and rain. As Caraxes barely weaved through Vhagar’s piercing jaw, Daemon angrily yelled out. He could see no way he would win this, but he would be damned and let Alicent win. He’ll have to take down both Aemond and Vhagar, even if it costs him his life.

Just as Aemond yells out commands to Vhagar, trying desperately to steer her, Daemon prepares his final attack. And when Vhagar’s jagged and sharp teeth finally sank their might into Caraxes’ wings, Daemon leapt.

Aemond’s one good eye widened in fear as he struggled with the many straps that bound him to the queen of dragons. He could not get away.

Daemon rained down on Aemond’s one good eye like the Gods’ judgement. Plunging dark sister deep into his skull, whilst Caraxes’ neck sprawled to bite Vhagar’s neck.

The four of them fell to the raging sea like Gods. Kin killing kin, dragon killing dragon. Blood dyed the sea red that night. Daemon could only hope you would forgive him for his abandonment in the afterlife.

Had he known that was the last night he’d ever seen you, perhaps he would’ve never gone to the Stepstones.

So as saltwater fills his lungs and burns his eyes, he relinquishes himself to death.

Deer fur has never been the softest, it’s short, stubbly, and quite harsh on the skin. But it is one of the best to bed with when winter comes. Due to this, a layer of sheep fur is always useful when placed atop of deer fur when one wants to sleep. The softness of the sheep perfectly balances the warmth of the deer.

Warmth, comfort, and the plushness of sheep fur atop deer fur greeted Daemon when he roused.

He had thought the afterlife would be warmer and brighter.

When he opens his eyes, the only thing he can see is a haphazardly made wooden roof, dimly lit by very few candles. One of those candles was beside him, giving off some warmth to the side of his face.

His eyes squinted as they tried to adjust to the dim lighting. When he finds that he can’t he tries to move his limbs. Surely if he was dead then his injuries would amount to nothing.

That assumption couldn’t have been more wrong as the moment he tried to sit up using his elbows, pain travelled through his entire body more painful than anything else he’d ever imagined. Causing him to collapse back onto the fur-lined bed.

He groaned loudly as his senses jolted awake from the pain stabbed within him. Was the afterlife truly this ruthless that it asks him to feel his injuries though dead?

His mind feels muddled as if a haze is crossing his eyes. His vision blurs and returns at random intervals and he feels sick. He knows he has a fever. Daemon feels the heat on his skin, despite the coolness of the air around him.

Once more, he tries to move. This time to do a much less taxing task than the one prior. He tries to move some of the animal pelts around him, lessen the heat surrounding him.

But when he lifts his arm to try, the door to the measly home opens with a shuddering sound.

“Gods, you’re awake!” he hears a voice, though it rings in his head and he can barely make out the words.

Had his head not been spinning and pounding against his entire being, he would’ve looked to his left to see who it was.

“Oh no, please stay still. Your injuries are grave and you’ve suffered so much frost.” The voice returns again albeit he still can’t make out the owner of the voice nor the words they speak.

The figure, hazy in colour and shape runs towards him as they fix back his pelts to cover his body. He realises then that he isn’t clothed. He groans when they accidentally place very light pressure on one of his bruises.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, running towards a table somewhere in the room.

When they return they hold a bowl of viscous liquid.

“Drink it, it’ll help with the drowsiness and the pain.” They speak softly and very slowly.

Though he doesn’t fully comprehend the words, Daemon is too far in his injuries to resist any kind of medicine. The bowl was brought onto his lips and he slowly drinks the viscous and bitter liquid. It burns his throat and tastes disgusting. He almost gags at the feeling of it running down his mouth.

When he finishes the bowl, the figure places it aside and comes back to his bedside.

Slowly, his ragged breathing returns to normal as his head stops its terrible spinning. The fatigue and pain of his muscles and bruises were still there but the burn of them lessened.

When he can feel his throat and mouth again, he trusts himself to speak.

“Who are you?” he whispers.

The figure’s face expresses something, their mouth moves to emote but his vision is still too blurry to know what they are doing.

“I’ll answer your questions once you’ve fully come to yourself. Rest for now, my prince.”

They reach out to brush a strand of his hair that stuck to his sweat-lined forehead. In the corner of his eye, before he succumbs to sleep once more, he sees a silver bracelet. He does not know why he feels safe enough to sleep. But his mind wills him to and his body is too tired to care.

In the days that followed, Daemon comes in and out of consciousness. Every time with blurry vision and a pounding headache. The figure aides to him as best as they can, he remembers them replacing the cold rag on his forehead every now and again. Feed him water and broth, anything liquid enough for him to drink and not have to chew.

On the 1st full moon since his first rouse, he wakes long enough to focus on his vision. The figure wasn’t there, wherever they may be, Daemon was glad for the small moment of respite. It gave him time to think about what had happened.

The fight above God’s Eye. Vhagar struck after Caraxes. His blade embedded itself in his niece. Then his fall. How he has survived so far was beyond him. A part of him wishes he was dead. Let the cold water fill his lungs again, let the salt burn against his eyes, let it stop his heart. Let him meet the one he loved.

But no, it seemed the Gods had cursed him with a life longer than he neither wanted nor deserved.

The figure didn’t come back for at least another hour, since then Daemon has found strength within himself to move his limbs lightly without much pain. His body ached from the lack of movement but that wasn’t the thing he was focused on.

With much rest and nutritious broth, the strength in his mind had returned. With it came his clear vision. Clear enough to see the woman who walked through the haphazardly created wooden door, carrying two hares.

Her clothes were ragged, her hair a mess, her skin muddied with dirt and God knows what else from the hunt. Her riding gear was old and tattered, barely holding onto dear life. But he’d still recognise her even if her body was covered with scars and burns. It was you.

Daemon was confident he looked like a buck who’d just realised a quiver was pointed at it with the way he was looking at you. Eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. His eyes focused on you as you huffed your way across this simple home of yours.

Pulling off your shoes and discarding all your gear before grabbing a knife to skin the hares. You hadn’t realised Daemon was awake, he was far too quiet for that. It gave time for Daemon to wonder if he died during his sleep or if you were truly real.

It wasn’t until you’d finished skinning and butchering the hare, placing the skin and organs away for something else and clearing the blood and butchered pieces away that you noticed he was awake. At first, your reaction had been shock, your eyebrows rose and your mouth went slightly agape at the intensity of Daemon’s stare.

But then it softened, and a smile crept its way onto your face. You sighed and placed down your dirty and bloody rag, walking over towards him as his eyes followed you. Your hand, now clean, went over to push away some strands of his hair. Then his eyes caught onto the bracelet once more.

It was you, truly you. You with the valyrian steel bracelet he gave to you so many years ago.

In the choking intensity, Daemon whispered your name once. Like how a devoted disciple would towards his most forgiving of Gods.

“Yes, my love?” You whispered, equally as quiet and reverent.

Daemon choked.

Emotions and years upon years of longing and yearning crawled their way from his heart all the way to his mind a mouth. Rendering him speechless.

“Welcome back, my love.” You repeat, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.

Not much was done afterwards, though Daemon’s body still pulled him to rest, he tried with all his might to stay awake. Afraid that if he closed his eyes you’d disappear.

But with a soft voice, you coaxed him back to rest. Promising to speak to him once he heals. That was the only thing which allowed him to go back to a peaceful rest.

The next time he awoke, it wasn’t a peaceful rouse. Quite the opposite. A loud shrill sound echoed through the house, it shook the windows and burst through the walls. He knew that sound. Caraxes.

With little to no care for his own well-being, Daemon sprung upwards, since he first woke he’d been clothed. Though it was just a simple and thin shirt and pants to cover himself up but not overheat him in case of a fever.

He winced slightly over the sudden action but the sound of Caraxes led him towards the exit. Clutching his side he lightly limped towards the door and struggled to open it.

“Lykiri Caraxes! Lykiri! Daemon is alright, he’s healing!”

You were in front of the blood wyrm, standing between the large dragon and your measly home. What bravery you held to stand your grown though he could tell the way you shivered you were just as terrified as many at the sight of the dragon.

Caraxes had severe scars all throughout his body, many were closed off, but he could see some marks on his wing and leg which had been expertly dressed with soft leaves. Have you been caring for Caraxes as well?

His thoughts were cut off when Caraxes let out another shrill cry, his head lowering to be at the same level as your much smaller form.

“Lykiri Caraxes,” though he could barely speak above his normal tone, both you and Caraxes heard him quite clearly.

At the sight of his rider, somewhat healthy and standing, Caraxes let out another shrill cry. Though you swear this one sounded much higher pitched. All before he himself also lightly limped away and slumped to the ground not so far away from your fireplace.

“Daemon,” you spoke before rushing towards him to support him. “You shouldn’t be walking around yet!”

At the sudden reprimand, he laughed, “And let you be eaten by Caraxes?”

You huffed, “He wouldn’t, I’ve been tending him for far too long.” You took a nervous glance towards the beast, “At least I hope he wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t.” Daemon states, leaning his head towards your own. Treasuring the feeling of your body against his. “How?” The question hangs heavy in the air.

“Well he’s been unconscious far longer than you have so it was easy to try and patch by his wounds. My only fear was if he didn’t wake up he wouldn’t be able to eat anything, so every now and again I’d leave dead sheep around him in case he wakes up so he could immediately eat. But for the dressing, I don’t have enough cloth to bandage or do anything so I used soft leaves. It’s what I used when I first got here so I thought it’d be al-”

Though you misunderstand the question, Daemon can’t help but feel amused by your lack of hesitancy in speaking. He wouldn’t expect you to go on a tangent like you do now back when the two of you were still in King’s Landing. Years before the war.

“I mean, how are you alive,” he questions after silence over his laughter cutting you off.

At the question, the mood thickens.

“Let’s talk inside.”

You supported Daemon as he staggered inside the small house. Sitting him down lightly over the makeshift bed you’ve been able to make with cloth, feathers, and several different kinds of pelts.

There when the two of you got comfortable you handed him a drinking bowl of warm tea as you sipped on your own. Only after the two of you finished both your tea did you start.

You told him about your banishment, and how Alicent and Otto Hightower framed you for witchcraft and conspiring against the crown. How it was only due to your connection with Rhaenyra that you were able to miss the death sentence. Then you told him about your life in banishment. Essos hadn’t been too bad.

Of course, it took a lot to learn new skills and put them to work. But there were a surprising amount of kind people in the area, especially the worshipers and monks. They taught you how to survive, but you couldn’t leech off of their kindness forever.

So with what little gold you had from working odd jobs here and there, you left for a stranded area. With what survival skills you’d learn you had slowly built a home for yourself. The beach was what brought Daemon and Caraxes to you. Caraxes had been bloodied and mangled. Yet he desperately held Daemon in his claws as he dragged Daemon’s body across the sand.

It was only when he saw you that he collapsed, leaving both the large dragon and his rider to your care. For the past month, you had been making the trip from your home to the beach to care for both Daemon and Caraxes.

Only today did Caraxes find it in himself to wake and fly, though barely. It was when Caraxes landed on your home did Daemon woke up.

That brought you to that very moment.

After you finished, there was a great silence between the two of you.

Daemon was the first to break it.

“I’m sorry.”

Daemon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, the Rogue Prince, the red wyrm’s rider, amongst his many titles and nicknames, seldom apologised. But with nothing else to his name or on his tongue at this very moment, he thought of the only thing he could say, an apology.

You smiled, casting your gaze to your hands, sheepishly shying away from his intense look as you thought of how to answer him.

“What do you have to apologise for, Daemon?”

His name fell like honey off your tongue, like a choir of songbirds, like the sweetest of fruits from Highgarden. The simple act of it threatened to bring tears to his eyes. How long he had waited for that? For you, to say his name one more time.

He remembered the last time he’d prayed to the gods in his adulthood. It was when he first heard of your banishment. Atop of Caraxes, the beast felt Daemon’s fear and anger clutch against his heart as the red beast ripped through clouds and skies trying to look for any semblance of you. Daemon prayed then. Prayed to find you, prayed to hear you, prayed to see you.

Anything.

No gods heard his plead that night and so he stopped.

But now it felt like every wish he had ever spoken had come true.

There were no words left to speak. Only actions.

Careful and dainty actions, considering Daemon’s physical state. Your lips pressed and moulded against one another. Letting years upon years of pent-up yearning and hopes spill through a single act.

Your heart soared, here was the man you loved, finally in your bed. No more words were spoken that night. Only sighs and soft moans of pleasure and contentment were heard throughout the lone and simple house.

As the two of you lay in one another’s company, new hopes soared between the two of you. And Daemon promises one last thing, a promise he intends to fulfil this time.

The promise of bringing you back home to Dragonstone once Caraxes and he can.

Why Daemon? “Once I had wondered what was holding’ up the ground // But I can see that all along, love, it was you all the way down // Leave it now, I am sky-bound // If you need to, darling, lean your weight to me // We’ll gloat away, but if we fall // I only pray, don’t fall away from me.” The song references to Icarus and Deadalus, the myth speaks about the Greek value of moderation. Icarus falls because he is so enchanted by his godly visage and his lightness that he’s enchanted by the sun and the wax melts. Hozier talks about an all encompassing feeling of falling in love that encompasses your being so much so that you’d do anything for your love. In more ways than one, both the Reader and Daemon have fallen from grace due to their love for one another. It’s the godly pull they have with each other that leads to Reader’s banishment and Daemon’s belief that she’s dead. The song inspires the last and first part of Daemon and Reader’s romance story, they lean on one another in more ways than one. Reader becomes Daemon’s friend, a true and honest friend built on mutual respect and affection. Whilst Daemon becomes Reader’s confidant, someone to go for comfort and source of joy. By the end of the story, neither thinks about the past, Daemon doesn’t care about the way the Reader has been living and Reader doesn’t care too much about why Daemon and Caraxes’ so injured. The two of them just cares for each other that nothing else matters and I think that’s so fucking sweet.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon #daemon fluff #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst

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princess-leaorgana · 2 days

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Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, alcohol consumption, mild hints of abuse, and OH DEAR is that my smut I left out? Oh, that's a lot of smut. I'm so embarrassed.

Chapter One Two Three

While dinner was being prepared, Rolan helped Zelphie with her room. She had done a lot of shopping for furnishings. New curtains for the balcony window, new blankets and pillows for her bed. She had gone clothes shopping as well and she pushed him away from snooping through her new dresses, stockings and tunics. They would share dinner with each other and Lajy on the balcony. Zelphie made a fun decision to place down the old furnishings of her room on the balcony to create a nice sitting space while they ate. It was cozy, very intimate. Sitting down on plush pillows and a thick blanket on a balcony of a wizard’s tower, drinking wine, eating and watching the sunset next to Rolan seemed divine to Zelphie. As they ate, they did what felt right for a budding couple, asking each other questions. They now knew each other’s favorite flower, color, wine and sweet treat.

‘So…if you can remember, as you told me you were young when you were left on your own, is Zelphie your real name?’ He asked her and she swirled her wine glass a little.

‘No, the matron of the orphanage named me. I was named after her parrot,’ she said and Rolan shook his head.

‘That is not true,’ he sighed, almost annoyed at her story.

‘I swear it is! At least that’s what she told me. She told me she named me after the parrot because I never learned how to shut up and be peaceful,’ she said and Rolan snorted.

‘Alright, that I believe,’ he said and she nudged him.

‘How about you?’

‘I’ve always been Rolan,’ he answered her and cleared his throat. It was incredibly common in tiefling culture for tieflings to change their names. Many didn’t even have last names. Tieflings did not have a great societal sense of a family unit. Their children ran wild and some parents who did try to raise their children were ripped from their children, just like Zelphie and Rolan’s had been. The state of the orphans she had met at the Emerald Grove was normal, unfortunately. At least this was true for the tieflings of the Sword Coast.

‘What was your mother’s name?’ She asked and Rolan smiled.

‘Dayryn,’ he answered softly and leaned against the tower’s wall. ‘She was the most wonderful person in the world. Just imagine, if you will, the person who is the reason for Lia’s bravery and passion and Cal’s loyalty and kindness,’ he began and Zelphie just smiled. What a wonderful thing to say. ‘And, to her credit, most of my brilliance,’ he added with a smirk and Zelphie laughed, but shook her head.

‘She might have fueled the flames, but she did not spark them, Rolan,’ she said and he looked down at her. ‘Trust me, with the rows I’ve had with wizards and warlocks all my life, you have something more special than books can teach and devils can promise,’ she said, and she had been hiding a little secret from him. Rolan was a powerful mage, there was no mistaking that. When she first met him, he was incredibly boisterous about his talents, which was very funny to hear as he had gone on and on in front of Mystra’s previous chosen, Gale. But when she heard of Rolan’s power in the Shadowfell Lands and saw it for herself about a month ago, she knew Rolan was special. He was very hard working and well read, she wouldn’t take that from him. But he was born with a talent.

‘I’m sure there was a compliment in there,’ he said and she nodded.

‘Yes, I mean, I don’t know if you were born this way Rolan, but your magic is….different. I didn’t go to Blackstaff or perfect my craft as an apprentice. I don’t know what the spells I yield are called. Sorcerers just…do. Like blinking or breathing. Because of that our magic that a wizard may learn is always a little unique. Very strong but also unique. Does that make sense?’ She asked and Rolan simply nodded. ‘I didn’t notice it at first…but when you cast a magic missile, it has the potential to stun. That’s not something a wizard is taught. You can cast mage armor on a person wearing armor. That is not something that is taught. Gale made that remark to me a while back, about you. He noticed it right away. Were you…did you always have a connection to the Weave, when you were very young?’ She asked and Rolan frowned and nodded slowly. ‘Then…maybe…you are just a very very well read sorcerer.’ Rolan was frozen and a little tense. Zelphie had only meant for her words to be complimentary, but it seemed to not have that effect. ‘Rolan?’

‘I’m not a sorcerer,’ he said and seemed to relax a little and sipped his wine. ‘I worked very, very hard for what I have-‘

‘Of course! Oh! Rolan, I don’t mean to say all of that to insult your education. Oh, no, no I’m so sorry. Obviously everything you have accomplished in your life is incredible. I mean, wizards usually get so far up the chain because they are privileged. Gale grew up a spoiled only child in Waterdeep. Lorroakan had his family name to raise him to the top, you, you did all of this yourself.’ She rambled quickly and Rolan sighed. ‘And bully for me, I think sorcerers are impressive people.’ She said and tilted her head. Rolan’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

‘Well, of course…I just-‘ Zelphie giggled and shook her head.

‘Hush you,’ she said and leaned up for a kiss. He was very happy to oblige her. Happy to kiss her and very happy to not be in trouble for insulting her. She was just as happy. She still couldn’t believe herself. Kissing him, enjoying his company as they lounged on her new beautiful balcony. She sighed happily against his lips and she felt his arm slowly coil around her waist, pulling her closer to him. ‘Stubborn wizard,’ she muttered against his lips and he growled a little laugh. Another almost fight, and she dissolved it with grace, as she always did. This wasn’t very normal for him but he was very happy about it. He was stubborn, he knew he was stubborn. He was proud of being stubborn. His stubbornness got him where he was right now. With a little help, of course. Help from the woman who was kissing him on a balcony as the sunset on the sea in front of them.

His arm pulled her tighter, the ease in which he was able to move her made her feel good. She liked that neediness and strength. He pulled her so close she felt it only natural to get as close to him as she could. With care and patience, she crawled into Rolan’s lap. She was timid in case he would object, but no protests came from him. Just a tighter grip on her waist. Her dress lifted to her thighs and Rolan touched her thigh and laughed. She barely pulled away from him, just enough to speak.

‘What’s so funny?’ She whispered and he nipped at her bottom lip.

‘Fucking stockings,’ he muttered a pinched the soft fabric that created a barrier between her thigh and his hand. Her heart melted, hearing his voice so low and soft. Almost demanding. She could have passed out.

‘They are a nuisance, aren’t they?’ She asked and lowered her face, her lips finding the delicate skin of his neck. He shivered and sighed at her touch. ‘Good thing they don’t go all the way up,’ she muttered. Rolan was frozen for a second, and then moved his hand up her thigh slowly, until his fingertips could feel her delicate skin. She shivered and lifted her head to look at him.

‘I would…like to be a gentleman,’ he whispered, his hand moving a little more and his thumb rubbing soft circles on her inner thigh. She gasped at his new touch, that look on his face, she was lust drunk, completely different from the drunk she was earlier.

‘I’ll give you permission if that will help,’ she whispered back and his hand inched closer.

‘Whatever my lady requests,’ he whispered back, daring her, daring her to ask him.

‘Touch me Rolan,’ she said and he leaned back down to kiss her. As he did, she felt his thumb gently stroke her bare slit and she moaned happily against him.

‘Oh, maybe you aren’t my lady. Stockings but…no underwear? Tut tut, my dear,’ he said playfully and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

‘I promise I’ll behave next time, Master Rolan,’ she muttered and his fingers parted her lips. She moaned once more and rolled her hips into his hand.

‘Oooh, now, don’t be so greedy, I’ll give you what you need,’ he muttered into her ear and she whined, only grinding her hips harder. ‘Oh, my little hero is so desperate, isn’t she?’ He chuckled. ‘Up with you, love,’ he said and his hand moved from her groin to her hip, patting her backside a little. With a little whine, Zelphie stood up and was followed quickly by Rolan. A little too naturally, Rolan took her hand and walked her back inside. ‘Now, you be good for me and sit on the bed,’ he told her and she eagerly obeyed. For some reason, she didn’t picture him to be so commanding in the bedroom, but his confidence scaled his whole personality. Very fortunate for her, she did like it. She’d never been led before, it felt very nice. She sat on the bed, her tail beating the mattress with excitement. Rolan watched it for a moment and walked over to her. ‘My happy little sorceress, are you happy?’ He asked, getting close enough that Zelphie spread her legs easily. He tipped her chin gently and she nodded.

‘Happy is a very poor word, but yes, I am happy,’ she said and he chuckled.

‘What’s a better word?’ He asked her and she looked up at the ceiling.

‘Hmmmm….delighted, excited, enraptured, curious, a little nervous,’ she said with a giggle and Rolan’s smile just kept growing. He was terribly handsome. ‘Incredibly aroused,’ she said, running her hand down his robes. They were made of a very heavy velvet. He was a showman. Down his chest and torso her hands went before they landed to his middle, where she felt his erection.

‘You feel what you do to me?’ He asked her and she nodded, rubbing the area and he sighed out. ‘Oh, very good,’ he told her and slowly guided her face to look to the side. She easily moved her head, feeling his eyes on her, baring into her. His fingers left her chin and his nails pulled the fabric of her collar and he sighed, not gaining the access he wanted. ‘This needs to go,’ he told her and she stopped rubbing him. She placed her hands in the delicate buttons on her shoulder, but he took over. She looked back up at him, watching him fuss easily over her collar.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ she said softly, she was so lightheaded from lust and love she barely registered that her mouth opened. His yellow eyes moved from her shoulder to her face and he stopped moving for a moment, then returned back to his work.

‘You’re drunk again,’ he said and she shook her head.

‘Drunk, maybe, but not like I was earlier. This has nothing to do with alcohol. You are the potion that has my brain in a chokehold,’ she told him and reached up to his face, cupping his cheek. He was just in control. He had lost it. He had gotten her collar loose and he looked back at her. ‘Everything you do just…sets my heart on fire, Rolan,’ she told him and he searched her face. ‘You are devastatingly beautiful.’

‘Do you really think that?’ He asked her softly and she nodded.

‘Yes, I think that because you are. Your strong jaw, those beautiful eyes, I love your nose,’ she said and his brows furrowed and she giggled. ‘I do, it’s so sharp and I love the little bump,’ she said and his nose wrinkled. She laughed again and shook her head. ‘Yes, that nose,’ she confirmed and he laughed.

‘I’m sorry, but getting accolades from you is…hard to believe,’ he told her and she tilted her head. She let go of his face and slipped the rest of her dress off, sitting almost completely naked in front of him. He swallowed hard when he looked at her properly. There she was. He would have loved to control himself and be a gentleman, but his eyes traveled down her neck to her collarbone, she had freckles on her shoulders. Her breasts were beautiful and he felt his hands reaching out to touch them. Her chest heaved with a heavy breath and he glanced back at her face to make sure this was alright. She was just looking back at him. He had been in control, but now he seemed timid.

‘I’m all yours, it’s alright,’ she told him softly and she saw him swallow hard. He took in a deep breath and breathed out.

‘Lie back on the mattress,’ he requested, his voice cracking a little. She smiled and scooted up on the bed and began to remove her long stockings. ‘Mmmmm, leave those on, please,’ he told her and she giggled. As she climbed up on the bed, her tail curled to an S-shape and Rolan quickly began to undress. She sat down and watched him closely. She chewed on her lip as his robes fell around him. She ogled him a little less subtly than he had just done to her. Her grip on her own lip hardened as she took in his body. He really was beautiful. He had such a strong, lean frame. The ridges on his chest were beautiful and symmetrical. He caught her and smiled, confident that look on her face wasn’t faked. ‘I told you to lie down,’ he told her and she giggled and obeyed, lying on her back. Quickly, Rolan climbed into the bed, crawling over her. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip and she sighed happily. Her tail curled around his leg and he chuckled. ‘Greedy, greedy little thing,’ he whispered and his lips moved to her jaw, trailing kissing down to her neck. He leaned up a little and moved her face to the side once more and let out a very satisfied breath.

‘What are you looking at?’ She asked and he leaned down to kiss her neck.

‘Your lovely neck,’ he whispered and his hand traveled down the side of her body, giving her skin bumps and a shiver. She gasped at the light touch of his nails on her skin. Damn anyone who assumed a wizard wasn’t good with their hands. With ease and allowed access from Zelphie, Rolan’s hand returned to her middle as his kisses met her breasts. ‘Mmmmm…so ready for me already, my dear, very good girl,’ he said, feeling her warmth and wetness. She gasped in delight, his fingers teasing her, his lips on her nipple.

‘Oh!’ She squealed and gasped, which only egged Rolan on.

‘Shhhh…they’ll hear you down in the city,’ he whispered playfully.

‘Let them,’ she moaned. Her hips twitched as his fingers found her sensitive little nub.

‘Oh, lucky me, you’ll have to indulge me. I’m a bit pent up…so I’ll need some time to play. I want you to unravel, I want you delirious, begging,’ he told her, sitting up. ‘And when you have completely lost your senses, I’ll take what I’ve worked for and fuck you through this bed,’ he said, kneeling in between her legs, his thumb still rubbing her clit in a steady motion. She leaned up on her elbows and he leaned down, kissing her thighs, biting their sensitive skin. She gasped and yelped a little at the feeling of his teeth breaking her skin. He made eye contact with her and she let out another loud moan. He removed his teeth from her skin and kissed her gently in the same spot. His kisses again traveled until she felt him in her middle. His tongue ran up to his thumb and she sighed.

‘Oh…oh Rolan…t-that-‘ she couldn’t finish. His thumb rubbed her clit and his tongue entered her, attempting to lick her clean. Her head hung back in ecstasy. He hummed happily against her and she continued to moan. He felt wonderful, loving, needy, demanding. Warmth ran through her body and she relaxed, lying back on the bed, her left hand finding the top of his head and grabbed at his hair. ‘That feels so good, you’re so good,’ she moaned and he grinned, but continued eating her out, not changing anything about his movements. If they were working there was no reason to change. He wanted to feel her melt on him. Her moans and cries and shakes were killing him. He was doing everything he could not to sit up and fuck her properly. But he knew, he knew he would spend himself quickly. It had been a long time for him. Their first time must be perfect. Or at least memorable. He felt powerful watching his lovely sorceress unwind. And gods she tasted delicious.

He got what he wanted, very quickly. Her ragged breaths slowly became a little louder and more deep and he felt her hips roll up. Her hands left his hair and she held his horns.

‘That’s my girl, that’s my little love, cum for me,’ he said and her grip on his horns tightened and her thighs tightened around his head.

‘Oh! Oh fuck! Yes!’ She cried and Rolan felt her muscles contracting. He lapped up as much of her as he could handle and sat up. She let her grip on him go and he laughed proudly, wiping his face. He watched her writhe for a moment longer and she looked up at him. Her body was perfect for him. The spines down her collarbone to her breasts were delicate. He leaned over and kissed her mouth and she moaned, kissing him back.

‘Gorgeous,’ he whispered and without moving his face from hers, he lifted her hips back up and she gasped when she felt his erection right up against her. ‘Are you alright?’ He asked her and she nodded. ‘Speak, my love,’ he whispered and she swallowed hard. What had he done to her?

‘I’m alright, Rolan, I need you,’ she said and rubbed herself against him. ‘Please,’ she whispered and Rolan pushed inside of her slowly, making her whimper. He groaned loudly and stopped moving.

‘Gods you feel wonderful,’ he groaned and slowly began to thrust in and out of her. Each thrust was slow but still made Zelphie call out a little sound with each one. He felt wonderful. He leaned his forehead to hers, bending her a little, and her moans got louder. ‘Is it alright?’ He asked and she opened her red eyes to look into his yellow ones. ‘Am I alright?’ He asked her and she nodded, completely unable to speak. Just little cries and moans, so she leaned up to kiss him, her hands on his face. He had one hand holding himself up, on the bed beside her, the other hand had a very firm grip on her hip. She felt his nails clawing a little anytime he moved back in her. The sensation was nice, possession and neediness. She trusted Rolan not to really hurt her. It made her feel good to be needed so desperately by him. She felt beautiful, more than she felt if he were to simply call her that.

‘Oh gods,’ she cried when he made a simple change in pace. Her hands moved to his hair, tangling her fingers in his once neat locks. His thrusting became eager, and she gave back as she could, arching her back for him. ‘I love you,’ she muttered and his lips caught hers. She heard him whimper, feeling the vibrations of his lips against hers.

‘I-I can’t-‘ he stammered and she felt his whole body on her. His face was in her neck, shuddering and with two hard thrusts he shook and sighed out, trying to catch his breath. She still held him close. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ he whispered and she caught his lips again. Her kiss was tender.

‘Don’t apologize, that was magnificent, you are wonderful,’ she whispered to him and he kissed her once more.

‘You are…you are perfection, the way you feel, those sounds you sing so sweetly, I couldn’t help it,’ he continued and she laughed.

‘There is no higher compliment,’ she told him, her fingers stroking his hair back, which had completely fallen from its neat little knot. He sighed and rolled off of her, she gave out a little wince when she felt him leave her completely. He didn’t look as happy as she felt. ‘Rolan….are you alright?’ She asked and rolled onto her side. She placed a hand on his chest and he sighed, taking her hand.

‘I thought I had more in me…but…well, when you said you loved me I just…’ he sighed and closed his eyes. She laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

‘Please, Rolan, I mean it, I feel wonderful. And you are all to blame, please tell me you feel the same,’ she said and he opened his eyes to look at her.

‘Zelphie, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that. I’m just afraid you think me….’ He didn’t finish and she smirked.

‘Well, if you’re going to be stubborn about it,’ she said and he grunted, which made her laugh. ‘You make it up to me in the morning, hm?’ She asked him and littered the side of his face with kisses. ‘But until then, enjoy the afterglow, because I’m going to,’ she told him and he rolled over to face her.

‘I consider myself incredibly lucky,’ he told her. ‘Being here with you, you know…the party all those months ago, the light show? It was to impress you,’ he said and she laughed. He sighed heavily. ‘I mean it,’ he told her and she shook her head, still laughing.

‘I believe you, I’m laughing because I was enamored with you at that party. And neither of us were brave enough to admit it,’ she said and he finally smiled.

‘It was probably for the best, romance back then was probably not the best of plans,’ he said and placed his hand on her cheek.

‘I won’t regret anything, I’m very happy right now,’ she told him and she felt his tail curling around her leg. ‘Stay with me tonight,’ she whispered and he grinned.

‘Of course but uhm…if we could migrate…I uhm…I’d like to be in my own room, if that is alright. I would have brought us there in the first place had I assumed we would…’ he said and she smiled.

‘Whatever would make you comfortable. I’m very adaptable,’ she told him and he nodded.

‘Come then, let us not get too comfortable here,’ he said and grunted as he sat up. She sat up with him and when she climbed off the bed and walked to her wardrobe, finding a nightdress and a robe to wear for the quick journey across the hallway. Once she removed her stockings, she pulled her nightdress over her head. She felt the fabric fall from her head to around her body. It felt wonderful. Her skin was so sensitive. Before she could pull on her robe, Rolan walked up behind her. She hummed happily as she felt his hands on her hips. ‘Now you are devastating…’ he whispered and kissed her neck. She shivered at his touch and the feel of his lips and breath on her neck. She leaned back in him, his hands ran up her sides, grabbing at her breasts, just to feel them.

‘You better not start anything you cannot finish,’ she told him playfully. He chuckled against her skin, meaning only to play, to touch, he was too tempted by her. He nipped at her skin and little and she giggled. ‘You have a biting fixation, don’t you?’ She asked and he laughed. She could still feel the small sting of his little love bite on her thigh.

‘I suppose I do, or maybe it’s just that I’ve had a taste of my favorite treat,’ he purred into her neck and she continued to giggle. The rush of joy, lust and the feeling of his lips were driving her mad. His hands were terribly needy, but gentle. His thumbs stroked her nipples through her gown. She sighed softly. ‘Mmmmm, maybe I will be able to pay you back sooner than morning,’ he muttered and gave her neck one last little bite and walked away from her. She almost fell over. Instead, as he dressed himself, she pulled on her night robe and called for the little kitten.

‘Come now Lajy,’ she said and made a little sound from her lips to coax the kitten from the balcony. He came running and Zelphie shut the balcony door, a little embarrassed that it had been left open. ‘Lucky me, it seems I’m getting everything I want today,’ she hummed happily and Rolan laughed as he lazily redid the buttons of his robes. It wouldn’t be staying on much longer.

‘Tell me then that you wish for at least one more glass of wine, a hot bath and then a deep deep slumber?’ He asked her and she grinned.

‘You read my mind, I’m terribly lucky,’ she said and he held out his hand for her. She smiled and picked her little kitten up and took Rolan’s hand. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. ‘Even luckier now,’ she said and he gave her quite the proud smirk. He radiated joy and pride and that made her even happier. The couple left Zelphie’s room and made it to Rolan’s. She hadn’t been to the master bedroom before, why would she have? It was incredibly clear that Rolan had fully renovated this room. Not a glimmer of Lorroakan was left. The room was warm, a fireplace roaring a blue flame. It was bright but had no heat. The rest of the room was dark, but incredibly illuminated. Along with the blue flame, the ceiling had an illusion cast on it, a brightly lit night sky. Zelphie placed the kitten on the floor, but did not take her eyes off of the effect.

‘It’s not too jarring, is it?’ Rolan asked and she smiled at him and shook her head.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said softly and he smiled.

‘I hope you can sleep through it, I…I need it, to sleep,’ he said and Zelphie tilted her head.

‘Afraid of the dark?’ She asked and he nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said, very simply. ‘Well, uneasy to sleep in the dark, it was never dark where I lived,’ he said and Zelphie’s mouth opened a little, remembering exactly where Rolan was from. Elturel. Elturel, a capital city that had descended to Avernus, suspended over the River Styx, had been a daylight city. She knew very little about it, but the city was under the constant glow of a light source referred to as The Companion.

‘That must have been so strange…never seeing night,’ she said and he shrugged.

‘It was all we knew until The Descent,’ he told her and she nodded. ‘So, I sleep with a little light on,’ he said and she looked back up and smiled.

‘Was The Companion this bright, or brighter?’ She asked and he grinned, happy for her curiosity.

‘Bright as the sun, but none of the heat. It would be as bright as a spring day while it was snowing,’ he said and she laughed a little. That was joyful. She didn’t think she could deal with that much light, but it was better than the reverse. ‘But, after The Descent, we’ve had to make due with evolving our sleeping schedules. Once on the Sword Coast, after all tieflings were expelled from Elturel, I used to sleep during the day, although that proved to be very dangerous. Everyone else we traveled with seemed to be able to cope with the night sky, but…I never really could. So, this is my compromise. I hope it does not disturb you,’ he said and she looked back at him.

‘I don’t see how it could. It’s so beautiful, you amaze me with how talented you are,’ she said and his cheeks burnt up. ‘The other day you were in such awe of my concentration on a little mage hand, but you’ve had this just going on and on? Don’t you ever be impressed with me again,’ she said and he laughed.

‘Well, that is…very nice to hear,’ he said and got himself undressed.

Rolan ran the couple a bath, which Zelphie was very excited about. As lovely as their recent activity had been, she hated going to bed less than clean. The past tenday had proven to her that she still felt that way, even after her less luxurious adventures. Rolan had a large bedroom, it had an adjoining washroom, a wine rack, a desk and seating area, Zelphie could have lived in just this one room her whole life and have been happy. He also had a balcony that faced the west, looking to the mountains and sea. She looked down at fuzzy little Eliminster and wondered what he thought of the giant room. He was snoozing on a lounge chair. Zelphie poured two glasses of wine and met him in the washroom.

‘Now this is terribly luxurious, wine in a bath,’ she said, handing Rolan both glasses so that she could undress and set into the water. Boiling hot, exactly as she liked it. As she sat in the large tub, Rolan handed her her glass and he got in carefully, able to balance his own glass, sitting across from her.

‘It is the very first thing I did after calling Cal and Lia to the tower,’ he said, smiling. ‘That might have been the strangest day of my life, back at home, my family home, I was desperate to work under a man like Lorroakan. I would never have dreamed this is the situation I would find myself in. I had a lot of work to do, but that night, I needed to just…soak it all in, so to speak,’ he explained and she nodded.

‘For what it’s worth Rolan, I’m still coming to terms with the events that happened this year. When everything was over, I thought it was so strange that I would be going home, living a normal life, and going back to work. It’s what I wanted, but it felt almost wrong,’ she explained to him and took a sip of wine. He laughed lightly and was clearly in thought from what she said.

‘Back to work? What on Toril did you used to do for work?’ He asked her and she frowned.

‘I worked with a jeweler in the upper city,’ she said and took another quick sip of wine. ‘I was…I helped set stones in gold and silver and bronze,’ she explained and Rolan frowned. Zelphie didn’t really want to discuss her past work. She was a setter for a jeweler in the upper city, and she did set precious gems, but that was not all she did for her employer’s clients. Rolan took a moment, but asked against his better judgment.

‘What has you so upset about that?’ He asked. She took a deep sigh into her wine.

‘I don’t think you want to know, Rolan. I don’t…I don’t have good stories about my past employment. Either I lie to you, or you will be upset and I don’t wish to lie to you or sour the mood,’ she told him and his frown only deepened.

‘Did your last employer treat you like my last employer?’ He asked her softly and she shrugged.

‘She never touched me…but…I was a bit of a…’ she huffed and looked at him. ‘Until the refugees from Elturel came to Baldur’s Gate, tieflings were very rare in the city and some patriars found me…exotic,’ she began and Rolan’s face turned to a scowl, full of disgust. She glanced at him and looked away. She didn’t like that look on him. She swore she felt the water get hotter. ‘I shouldn’t have told you,’ she said softly and Rolan looked up and away from her.

‘Where was this?’ He asked, a cracking in his voice.

‘Like I said, it was in the Upper City, so it’s probably rubble. I think this tower is the only thing standing,’ she explained quickly. ‘Rolan, please, I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she told him and leaned forward. She placed her goblet on the side of the bath and climbed into his lap. ‘Please, don’t be upset,’ she told him softly, but he was terribly tense. She wrapped one arm around his neck and placed her free hand on his face. ‘Please,’ she begged and he looked up at her.

‘Tell me who she is,’ he asked her as calmly as he could. Zelphie chewed on her bottom lip. She was very angry with herself for upsetting him. He didn’t need to know about her past. Not that. It didn’t matter, that was well over. No one could touch her again, she was safe. ‘I’ll drop it if you tell me,’ he told her and she frowned but sighed, relenting.

‘It was in The Wide, called Love’s Secret. It was owned by a woman named Mayleen Starheart. Although, I would place a bet that was not her real name,’ she said and Rolan sighed and nodded. He sipped his wine and placed his goblet down. He would keep his promise to her for now. His arms wrapped around her and she leaned down to kiss him. She felt him relax and she leaned back up. ‘You know, I never pictured your hair would be this long,’ she said and her finger twisted around a lock behind his neck. He smiled at her.

‘If I want to keep it long, I must keep it neat,’ he told her and she nodded.

‘Could I wash it for you?’ Rolan’s eyes widened at her question and he nodded. She climbed off of his lap and he reached behind him for his soap. She took it as he dunked his head back, soaking his hair. ‘Make yourself comfortable,’ she said, sitting up high and he turned himself around, laying back, his back against her chest.

‘Is that alright?’ He asked her and she hummed. He felt like a weighted blanket on her.

‘Wonderful,’ she told him and began to rub the soap into his scalp just at his hairline, along the crowns of his horns. ‘You Lia and Cal all have fully black horns,’ she mused and he hummed. ‘I’m terribly jealous.’

‘Your horns are beautiful,’ he told her quickly and she laughed. ‘I meant it, they are very large, but they are so…graceful. They only enhance your beauty, my darling,’ he told her and she smiled, continuing her work in his hair.

‘Thank you, Master Rolan,’ she said with a smirk. He laughed, she felt the vibrations of his body against her chest.

‘We are naked, newly coupled, your fingers are in my hair which all on its own is stirring something in me, and you keep calling me Master Rolan,’ he said happily. ‘You need to stop that,’ he told her and she smiled proudly.

‘I told you earlier, I’m all yours, I think that’s a very fitting title for me to call you,’ she said and Rolan quickly submerged into the water again. After a moment under the water, Zelphie was laughing loudly. Now he was being silly. He re-emerged and quickly ran his hands through his hair to get the water out, and he got right out of the bath. ‘Uh-oh,’ she said, still laughing a bit as Rolan turned around, grabbing a towel to dry himself off.

‘Uh-oh is correct, and you’ll be in much more trouble if you don’t get that heavenly body out of that bath and into my bed,’ he told her and Zelphie almost froze. She did as she was told and got out of the bath. She grabbed herself a towel and dried herself off, glad her hair hadn’t gotten wet. Rolan gave her about ten seconds and took her hand. ‘Come come,’ he said and she smiled up at him. She might have just created a monster. He led her to his large bed, a large white blanket with dark purple satin sheets underneath. It was incredibly plush. ‘Lie back,’ he told her gently and once her head reached the pillow, he climbed on top of her. ‘You look very, very good in my bed,’ he told her and that possessive tail of hers wrapped around his leg again. He leaned down and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Her hips rolled up into him, coaxing his erection and he sighed happily. He then laughed. He laughed hard and she looked at him with wide eyes.

‘What?’ She asked, a smile growing on her face. Oh, he was incredibly silly. She loved it, she loved seeing him so happy, and she loved even more to be the center of his joy. He shook his head and kissed the side of her mouth.

‘I feel spoiled,’ he told her and lifted his head to look at her again. ‘You, you of all people in this world are in my bed. And you want me, I’m just having a hard time processing it all,’ he said and she grinned up at him.

‘I hate to boost your ego even further, but you need to know how much I am thinking the same. I really didn’t think you would ever want me, like this,’ she said and placed her hands on his face. ‘Can I show you how much I want you?’ She asked and let her tail loosen from his leg. He nodded slowly. ‘Lie on your back,’ she whispered and he did just that. Zelphie smiled and climbed over him, but stayed by his legs. She knelt between his legs and bent over, running her tongue against his erection and he sighed out with a shake in his voice.

‘Aahhh…’ he whimpered and Zelphie smiled, keeping close attention to the head of his cock, lapping at it like a cat to water. ‘Oh…you.I’m supposed to be..p-paying you back,’ he whimpered and she giggled.

‘You are,’ she whispered. He hissed and she felt him twitch. That was the truth. She wanted to pamper him. She had been earlier, washing his hair, but he needed attention elsewhere and she would give it to him. It turned her on, watching her partner be satisfied with just her mouth. She rocked her hips happily and once he was slick with her spit, she took as much as she could of him in her mouth. Rolan moaned and she felt his tail rise up between her legs, asking for them to part. She parted her knees and his tail rubbed up against her and she moaned against him.

‘Oh what a pretty thing you are…’ he muttered and she began to bob her head up and down. As she did, she naturally rubbed herself against his tail, which he kept pressing against her harder and harder. He was only encouraging her. She felt his tail move against her and she grinned.

‘Looking for something?’ She asked him playfully and went right back to her work. He made eye contact with her for a moment and she watched him. She had never seen him like that, completely enraptured, nervous, a little confused. He sighed out happily and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

‘I want to fuck you, so you’re going to need to cum for me,’ he told her softly and she wiggled her hips.

‘It makes you feel good when I cum, doesn’t it?’ She asked, using her hand to work his cock as she spoke to him. He nodded and swallowed hard. ‘You make me feel so good, Rolan,’ she said and put his cock back in her mouth. His sounds and whimpers as she sucked him, his cock growing harder in her mouth was sending her on edge. She couldn’t help it. She felt the warmth rise up inside of her and she arched her back, slowing down. Rolan opened his eyes to watch her. His tail rubbed her harder and a little faster to make up for her frozen form.

‘Yes, yes, oh you beautiful thing, yes, cum for me, cum like I asked, be a good girl,’ he whispered a spasm shot through her body as she writhed, riding her orgasm out on his tail. ‘That’s my girl, yes, enjoy yourself on me, use me,’ he coaxed her through her orgasm, leaving her legs shaking. She crawled up and kissed him hard, rolling her hips in his. He placed one hand on her backside and the other positioned himself so she could feel him at her entrance which was begging. ‘Do you want it?’ He asked her through kisses and she moaned. ‘Say it,’ he commanded her lightly and she nodded.

‘I want it, I want you,’ she muttered and he lifted his hips and she groaned as he entered her. He held her hips still so she would stay exactly where she was. In and out, so slow, so careful. With every movement of his hips she cried out. Her body ached. He watched her carefully and she sat upright. She then leaned back, her hands on his thighs behind her and bounced. He cursed under his breath and moved his right hand to her middle. His thumb rubbed her clit and she called out, feeling that rush of warmth again. She felt like she had no control over herself, pure instinct had taken over. She bounced and rocked her hips on him like a mad woman, crying out his name.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Rolan muttered. She moaned again, looking down at her.

‘Oh Rolan,’ she moaned and he leaned up on his elbow, still rubbing her clit.

‘Mmmm…take what you want, take what you want, I want to feel you cum with me inside you, be selfish,’ he whispered and that was it. She lost the ability to breath and her hips curled around, as her second orgasm rang through her. Rolan gasped and moaned and she felt him shiver under her, twitching and then his hips pressing into her more. That was magical.

‘I love you,’ she whispered and bent down to kiss him. A shiver ran up her spine and she giggled. Rolan pulled her down to lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around her.

‘I love you too,’ he whispered and kissed his lady. She giggled, a feel of pure joy and release washing over her, delusional joy. She felt happy, she felt silly, she felt stupid, she felt playful and warm. The couple stayed like that, not getting enough of the other, just kissing and grabbing in the afterglow. Their tails intertwined and fought over dominance. Zelphie kissed down his face, giggling happily and he laughed at her. ‘Oh don’t tell me you have energy left,’ he said and looked down at her with heavily lidded eyes. Her eyes were bright.

‘Is it annoying?’ She asked him, wiggling a little. He shook his head, still smiling and closed his eyes.

‘Not in the least, I just hope you know this old man is physically spent,’ he said and sighed out.

‘What old man?’ She asked and he just laughed. She crawled off of him happily and sat next to his head, and her fingers combed through his wet hair happily. He had a very low and quiet purr, but it was there and it made her happy. He scooted to his side and pulled on her arm.

‘Come down here and lay with me, I want to hold you,’ he begged and she did as he asked. Though first, Rolan kicked down the covers to situate themselves on the sheets. Once under them, Rolan pulled Zelphie in closed, their noses nuzzling and her horns clinked against his. ‘Comfortable?’ He asked her softly and she nodded, her tail and legs wrapping around his. If she could find a way to get closer to him she would. ‘Good,’ he said and leaned his face up to kiss her forehead. ‘I meant what I said, Zelphie, I do love you. That wasn’t wine or lust talking. Your courage, your kindness, your patience, your warmth, your beauty…I…I’d have to be a damned fool not to consider myself the luckiest person in Faerun by having you in my arms, in my bed. And I will take advantage of that, I will cherish you, I will make sure I am worthy of your love in return,’ he spoke and Zelphie’s mind buzzed. She didn’t know what to say. All of the accolades coming from him meant everything to her. So that’s what she would tell him.

‘That…that means quite a lot coming from you, Rolan. Thank you, and know that I will also cherish you, and boost that goddamned confidence of yours, because everything you say you see in me I see in you,’ she said and he looked down. ‘I see a trustworthy, devoted, brave, hard-working, intelligent and beautiful man when I look at you. I’d give anything to have you know that about yourself,’ she continued and he frowned a little. ‘You don’t need to fight for me. Just…promise me you’ll continue being this man that I love, hm?’ She asked and he smiled again and nodded.

‘I promise,’ he told her and she kissed him tenderly. ‘Goodnight, Zelphie,’ he whispered and closed his eyes.

‘Sweet dreams, Rolan.’

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #rolan fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

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