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cheriecelestial · 13 days

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Luminary Pt.II

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yan Emperor!OC X Swordmaster!OC

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ yandere thoughts. hurt/ no comfort. angst. mentions of violence and character death. lovers to enemies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Please listen to Joel Sunny’s Luminary for the whole experience. COMMENT LIKE & REBLOG ✿.*･｡ﾟ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) Pt.1

“Atticus was kind,” Atticus' ears perked up at his mention, his brows knitted in confusion as to why she was referring to him as if she was talking about someone else ? “You said your magic erases insignificant feelings. You were always so full of kindness, what happened?” Her words struck the platinum haired man like lightning. But what she saw in him was just him mirroring her light like the moon does with the sun and nothing else.

“To you my darling. I was kind because you deserved it. I cared because you did, always. You broke me out of my mould, out of all the rules and conceptions I had about my life. And I loved you for it. But before I knew it i started doing everything by your book. Everything for you. To win you, for validation, for love. So much so that I lost sight of my goal.” His words died by the end of his sentence, if they were talking truth now — he might as well splay his feelings out in front of her.

“I was just trying to save you. I-I-”Cecily barely stuttered out. He felt Cecily's hand on his shoulder dig in. Her bottom lip quivered and her body trembled to the point that she swayed slightly on her feet. If he could feel any guilt or remorse he was sure that the look on her face would've devastated Atticus more than anything he had experienced before but all he felt was a strange tightness in his chest.

Calming herself, she took a deep breath and spoke in a low tone,“ Is that what I was to you ? A distraction from your goal ? I tried Atticus. I tried so hard to save you from yourself.” He telt a part of his shoulder burn where she rested her hand.

“Distraction ? No my love. I know you tried to save me and for a moment there - I swore you did . But leaving behind all I had ever known was a risk I was never willing to take, because what will become of me when I abandon the laws that have shaped me ? You gave me life but my vengeance gave me purpose.” Atticus knew he wasn’t a good man from the very start. That something was fundamentally flawed about his existence. An inadequacy, one he’d never overcome. And somewhere deep within, he was jealous. Jealous of Cecily for being so perfect . She always so full of vitality. Like a star, even when she held his face in her hands — she always somehow felt so far away, somehow felt so unattainable. The problem with being born in hell and then being getting a taste of heaven was - that no matter how hard you tried you could never overcome that nagging feeling in the back of your head that told you that you didn’t belong. There was one sole lesson he learnt from all of this was he had too many demons to love an angel. So if he couldn’t belong in the heaven, he would drag his haloed darling to the hell.

“The reason I came here was to see if there was a modicum of redeemable humanity left in you. If there was any part of my Atticus left. Marcel was right, you have changed beyond recognition. I no longer recognise the person I’m looking at.” Her tone grew distant by the second. It was the same tone people talked about the deceased at funerals. Mourning him as if he had died, like he wasn’t still alive and breathing in front of her. She almost thought it would be easier if he had died. At least she’d feel some sort of closure, knowing he’s not coming back. But this, this was a nothing but pure torture for her.

But then he wasn’t gone, if anything he was doing better than he ever was. Leaving her behind to pick up the shattered pieces of what they once had. Yet somehow, she couldn’t hate him for that - not really anyways. No amount of anger would mend the torn pieces of her broken heart. She was left in emotional turmoil, love mixing with hate mixing with rage, betrayal and depression. No matter how many times the word hate flashed through her mind, it was never truly directed at Atticus. Rather the world, the things they had forced upon him, the pressure he had been made to feel.

Shakily, Cecily raised her palm to caress his hair. Atticus almost flinched at how warm her war calloused hand felt against his face. He nuzzled his face closer to her palm as his emotions as a cacophony of fear, desire, hate, and desolation, all battling one another for control. Her touch was a fire he would willingly walk into.

Cecily cupped Atticus’ face and tilted her chin up to him, parting her lips ever so slightly. Atticus’s brain went into overdrive at her invitation. She resembled a siren, calling out to him with her sweet song and in the back of his head he knew there would be consequences to this. But the moment her lips touched his he stopped breathing. His mind went blank. Every feeling, thought, and emotion that he has ever felt floods through him in a torrent. He could barely comprehend the feeling of her lips on his own. His hands wrapped themselves around her back and tighten as the rush of emotions overwhelms him. At the same time, he was aware of how much he hated this. She was ruining him and she had no idea how much her touch was destroying everything he spent so much time meticulously building.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” Cecily’s emerald green eyes looked hollow yet somehow reverential when she pulled away. Atticus wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her violently and yell that he was still here so why did she look at him with such melancholy.

“I don’t need saving Cecilia. Join me my darling. Be my queen and I swear we could restore this empire to all its deserved glory.”He gripped her hand resting against his cheek and pleaded. He didn’t care if he sounded desperate or pathetic, he just needed her to say yes.

Cecily shook her head slowly and said,“ As appealing as it sounds, you and I both know you don’t plan on making me anything apart from your canary in a gilded cage because I will never approve of you methods and neither will I aid you in them.” Atticus sighed in defeat. He bit the inside of his cheek till he tasted blood. If she wasn’t going to give in voluntarily, he just had to make her.

“You know you can’t win against me. Even if you persevere and defeat my armies. You can’t kill me. Dark magic makes me impervious to all weaponry and magic. No one in history has ever been able to accomplish it. What makes you think you will be able to do it ?” Atticus challenged her knowing that even with all her strength, there was no way in hell she could win. She wouldn’t fight for so long if she knew she didn’t stand a chance, an ominous voice warned him .

“None but one”

He knew who she was referring to. The legend Seraphina Andrea Reginald and her aura sword — the Caelum Lux. The founder of the continent. She was this golden figure who was the beacon of morality, freedom and justice. An allegory and dubbed to be reincarnation of the goddess of light Lumine. But that was the end of it- a legend, another one of story tellers’ dramatic gimmicks to make little children believe in virtue. Even though Cecily belonged to her bloodline, calling upon such power was next to impossible.

“It’s a children’s story my darling. The Caelum Lux isn’t a real sword and you know it.”

Cecily lightly shrugged in response as a silent ‘yes well’. The orchestra began their final piece and a familiar melody swirled around them. It was the song Atticus often played for them at late hours when they’d sneak into the music room at the music room back when they were in the academy. What were the odds that they would play this very song as their final piece ?

“It’s the last waltz your majesty. Dance with me. Just like the old times.”

Wordlessly, Atticus pulled her closer. Her cheek was resting on his chest and his other hand almost holding her in a half hug. This wasn’t the standard waltz position, but it was something so comfortingly intimate to them. She was good to him but not to his cause. To Atticus Asterin – Cecily Reginald is an obstacle, but to Atty - Ces is an anchor. His heart felt at peace but his instincts were blaring sirens as if she was his greatest enemy and who knows maybe she was. Push her away and leave, the voice told him as a sign of fatal danger. He gripped her closer as if retaliating to the instinct. Atticus wasn’t going to let anyone take Cecily away from him, not even himself.

“The Caelum Lux isn’t a sword, it’s a bloodline.”Cecily stated calmly as if it wasn’t the most groundbreaking piece of information Atticus had heard. “You remember my father, the late duke, had all my distant relatives covertly killed a few years ago ?”

“Yes, I do remember. It was perhaps the only occasion you mustered the courage to confront him,” he countered. Instead of retaliating in her usual fury, Cecily merely smiled and continued, “Its aura can be invoked by the last descendant after absorbing the light energy of their deceased kin. Seraphina Reginald wasn’t a swordmaster — she was a mage. The most formidable one to ever exist.” Atticus’ blood ran cold. He remembered the duke and his cold eyes. They were the same colour as Cecily’s but they always held nothing but disgust and disdain, looking at him as if he were nothing but an insect. The only time a different expression crossed the duke’s face was as he lay dying. Atticus pressed the sword to his heart and the duke just smiled back at him. The same smile Cecily was wearing. The same smile a hunter wore when they caught their prey.

After gaining his power, Atticus believed he could shed his fear. He swore to himself that he would never go back to being that helpless weak boy who was even scared of his own shadow. He wasn’t supposed to feel this anymore.

Push her away. She’s dangerous.

Push her away.

“I see.” He felt as though he was stepping forward over this ravine with a snapping tightrope, but she was on the other side with a lamp and a knife, daring him to cross it. But it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t catch him — not anymore. He had emerged victorious, then why did he feel like he was exactly where the duke wanted him to be ?

Atticus looked down to her face pressed against his chest. It was a pleasant. Despite having this beautiful perspective emphasised, Atticus found his head reeling and his breath shallowing. His heart hammering in his chest unstably, feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She can’t defeat me, that’s what the platinum haired man kept telling himself. He was caught in a tailspin, a tailspin that was only leading him one place. He couldn’t let that happen. But she kept haunting his thoughts, along with the other ghosts holed up in his head. Did ruination and salvation always look this identical ?

You can’t put Atticus upon yourself to save — he made the choices he made, you can’t change them. You can’t save a person who doesn’t want to be saved. She told herself sternly. She must done what she had to, what she came here to do. Cecily took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. She didn’t know if she was telling the truth when she said she didn’t recognise him. Everything about him, every minuscule detail about him, had been exactly as she had remembered. He still had the same sweet and playful look in his eyes. He still had the same charming smile. He was still the same person she fell in love with all those years ago so it hurt. She cried, wailed, and tried to be strong as she thought about the moments shared with him and how cruel it was that this was where she ended up.

Their eyes lock, returning each other's gaze, scrutinising the abysmal of their souls that was built with a blended sentiment. She saw a bead of perspiration run down the side of his forehead and his breath getting more laboured by the second. She had to act fast.

For a fleeting moment, silence prevailed in between, the rhythm of their breathing stirring with the progression of the music around them. The music of the waltz filled the room with a gentle, flowing melody. It began with a simple rhythm, gradually building into a sweeping cadence. Footsteps and hands were in perfect time with the music, moving with precision and grace. It was a soothing, romantic piece. The tempo of the music shifted and changed, following the dynamics of the song and the movements of the dancers. Soon it reached a feverish crescendo indicating its dramatic ending .

Atticus wrapped her waist and lifted her in the air for a spin. When he set her down he noticed her eyes were closed. “Love ?” He asked but she didn’t respond. Growing unnerving due to the lack of response he reaped, he called out to her again. An ominous feeling crept up his spine as the voice in his head chided him, too late. When she opened her eyes, they glowed with unnatural amount of light almost as if the goddess Lumine herself had descended from the heavens. Wait, goddess ? Now it all started to make sense to him. Her coming here, the legend of Seraphina Reginald and the Caelum Lux.

Blinding light engulfed the ballroom leaving everyone stunned. And when the light faded, Atticus heard someone scream. He felt oddly disoriented and overwhelmed. What is going on ? He opened his mouth to speak but nothing except blood came out. His hand flew to his neck to feel the thick waterfall of blood dripping from the side of his neck. Before he could register what happened, his knees bucked as he stumbled. Is that my blood ? Am I dying ? His vision started to blur and he felt life slipping away like sand from his fingers. Unlike anything he had ever imagined, instead of fear he felt warmth.

In that moment, he saw the star decorations in the centre of the dome and all the incomplete dreams and promises of forever they made in their youth. His vision cleared for a second and he saw her. He saw everything he ever loved about her – her countenance bore an undeniable allure. Her spun hair, painstakingly brushed to perfection, flowed like silk threads, infused with small silver flowers, an extravagant touch. The jagged burn scar that ran down the side of her face, something that never deterred him from loving her all the same. Swathed in rich lace, her garments caressed her form with the grace of luxury, their hue an enchanting shade of white. This allure was further accentuated by her green eyes, glinting like shards of frozen emeralds, reflecting an unyielding mysterious depth — a landscape of evergreen forests like the ones they would often go hunting in. He stared at her till his vision was tainted by red.

As the world around him darkened, he was left with the haunting echoes of what once was, leaving him to wonder how it all came to this point. too many questions, too little answers. They said love healed, love nurtured, love saved many. Unfortunately for them, the poets were wrong after all, not even love was enough to save them. Her lips moved to say something he couldn’t quite catch, Atticus used the last bit of his strength to strain his ears to hear the last words she would say to him before he left this world .

“Rest now my love, may the gods receive you on the other side, pardoning that which may be absolved.”

#yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yanderecore #yandere x oc #yandere male #male yandere #tw: yandere #yandere imagines #oc x oc #songfic #lovers to enemies #hurt/no comfort #angst #historical fantasy #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n

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cheriecelestial · 20 days

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Luminary Pt.1

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yan Emperor!OC X Swordmaster!OC

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ yandere thoughts. hurt/no comfort. angst. mentions of violence and character death. lovers to enemies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Reposting a very old piece post editing (not really lol). According to my old a/n this was “very 3am spontaneous writing” meaning the idea was spontaneous not the process. Very manhwa-esque historical plot ig. Please listen to Joel Sunny’s Luminary for the whole experience. like always COMMENT LIKE & REBLOG (☆≧▽^)

Pt.2

Ceaseless noblesse chatter, clinking of glasses and rustling of ball gowns blurred into an unintelligible myriad of sounds. Cecily massaged the bridge of her nose in an attempt to calm the pulsating migraine in her forehead. As much as she loved dressing up on her own accord and dancing, she felt much repulsion to high society. Whosoever had compared high society to a sandalwood tree must’ve been a wise person - exquisite and ambrosial smelling but intertwined with serpents waiting to pounce. Her sharp gaze, reminiscent of a relentless hunter, swept the expanse of ballroom to locate her target attendee. He wasn’t here, not yet at least. But he was expected to be here soon, after all what king doesn’t show up to the party he hosted in his own honour ?

Everything the room exuded an elite air of grandeur. Golden tendrils resembling vines creeping up the wall and colluding in a labyrinthine pattern of flowers and leaves against the stained glass ceilings. Lush roses filled each vase placed exactly five meters apart from each other. In the centre of the dome were three collinear alchemy powered faux stars, the centre attraction and the nominative factor of the ballroom — the Syzygy Hall. Leaning against the stone wall, the crisp night air fills her lungs while the stars twinkle in the dark, velvety sky, and she watched them with a nostalgic sense of appreciation. The flashing memories of her stargazing in this very hall with a certain gifted mage tugged harshly on her heart stings but she forced herself to shun them and focus on the task ahead.

Cecily shifted her attention to the noblemen and women drift across the smooth marble floors like clockwork nutcrackers in grandfather clocks. It all looked so beautiful and for the lack of a better word, rich. A part of her would’ve wanted to join to the festivities had her heart not drowned in waves of indignation for the host. But then as having danced her fair share of high society parties — she knew of the incessant debauchery, corruption and vicious yet sugarcoated calumny at the core of this diamond and silk adorned marvel. Nobility was a word that evoked images of artifice, undeserved riches, wastefulness and textbook narcissism. Albeit belonging to the pinnacle of non-royal nobility — Cecily’s lineage was both a blessing and a curse. As the daughter of one of the three dukes in the empire and the daughter and successor of the continent’s finest swordsman , Carlisle Reginald, Cecily was taught to be wary of desperate social climber with saccharine laced tongues at a young age. Just the thought of her family flared the inferno of negative feelings further.

“This far behind enemy lines ? Can’t tell if it’s brave, audacious or plain stupid.” Cecily rolled her eyes at the new admission. “What would you know anything about bravery Marcellus ?” The red haired paladin flinched at the woman using his full name and bit his tongue to restrain himself from answering her verbal jabs.

“I did what I had to do” He muttered quietly with his gaze fixed on the floor as if it was the most scintillating creation known to mankind. “You mean leaving your men to die mid-battle and defecting to the enemy’s side ?” Cecily scoffed at his confession. She couldn’t help be reminded of the past when they were trainee knights and how they were a symbol of valour and justice. The nights they spent at taverns celebrating after successfully completing missions and training. Cecily couldn’t pinpoint when everything changed and when people she knew digressed beyond recognition but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Marcel’s words were slow to come out but he sighed and answered, “I merely chose the winning side . Unlike you, I have a sense of self preservation.”

“Where I’m from , we call it cowardice”

“Probably why that place burnt to the ground,”Marcel was hit with a sense of instant regret the second those words left his mouth. He muttered a quick apology as if that ever solved anything .

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. Genuine care doesn’t suit the self-serving likes of you.” Cecily spat out with anger laced in her seemingly calm tone. Had it been some other place with someone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated to draw her sword. Knowing her temper, he saw fit to change the topic of the conversation, “ It’s a fine dress you’re wearing. But I have to say - had I not known better I’d say it was a wedding gown. One refined enough for a duke’s daughter”

“It is a wedding gown. I just repurposed it since I don’t need it anymore and my other gowns were burnt along with my house. I’m sure you remember, you were there.”Cecily spoke in a monotone as she absentmindedly fiddled with the lace trimmings of her dress and the silver corsage on her wrist.

Marcel gulped at the realisation and looked away to the sea of jolly nobility dancing their evening away but he still couldn’t seem to shake off the chills floating in the air. Luck truly wasn’t on his side today “I know it was a purely political arrangement but Cedric was a good man. You have my condolences.”

His words evoked a humourless laugh from Cecily. Just how shameless could he be ? Leading the campaign that killed her fiancé and still have the guts to offer his sympathies.

“Losing a fiancé ? I’m sure you know what that’s like. Considering how you let Lucia Arden die just to save your own skin.”

Cecily remembered the sweet and gentle field medic who stopped at nothing to consistently heal her comrades and boost her fellow knights’ morale with her encouraging words. And she also remembered watching the radiant light leave her eyes and her skin turn frigid pale after Marcel defected and ambushed his own squadron. Cecily and Marcel were the closest of friends, maybe that’s why his betrayal stung so much. Had someone told about Marcel’s betrayal to her younger self from two years ago, she would’ve laughed at them and wonder if they lost their mind.

“What happened to her was regrettable. I asked her to join me. But she refused. Because she was -” so loyal to you, is what he wanted to say but something told him that not completely the sentence would serve him better. Cecily didn’t respond to him nor did she look at him. Marcel’s gaze fell to her fist which had clenched so tight that her knuckles were turning white.

“I tried you know. I really tried to convince her. That was more what I should’ve done considering what her family did to Genevieve—” despite his attempts to mask his emotions, venomous contempt seeped into his voice.“Lucia wasn’t her family. She didn’t know. She had no part in it.” Cecily countered firmly.

“She was going to be a mother ! And they—”Marcel swallowed thickly, unable to continue. Cecily sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. Genevieve - the feisty barmaid at their favourite tavern who managed to capture Marcel’s heart and subsequently died a tragic death the hands of the Marquis Arden who couldn’t bear the disgrace of his daughter’s fiancé choosing a destitute orphaned commoner over his well-bred aristocratic daughter.

“What happened to her was unjust, but that doesn’t justify your treachery. You let your own men die. The very men that swore loyalty to you. The ones that fought, ate and bled by your side.” Cecily eyed him with simmering hatred. Marcel looked uncharacteristically startled for a moment by the her disdain but covered it up quickly. Silvers of guilt flashed in his eyes when he realised that even if he had managed to secure a future for himself as the commander general of the new king’s knights, he lost something truly important to him. The past him would’ve really hated him now.

“Of all people I thought you’d know what it’s like to lose the one you love the most. But in hindsight, you’re probably worse off than me. I’m sure you know, he isn’t what he used to be. The King’s scouts have been looking for you and the other rebels . You should leave before he sees you.” Warning her was the most he could do for her now. He had sworn loyalty to the new king but standing in front of his childhood friend - he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of conflict.

“Why ? Is he planning to send me and my men to the gallows ?” Cecily scoffed as if impressed that the king was putting in so much effort to locate her. “Your men ? Yes. You ? No. Corrupted or not, not even he could get himself to kill the woman he loves so dearly. But I’m positive whatever his plans for you are, would make you wish that he sent you to the gallows instead. He won’t kill you but beware— he won’t be soft either. He’s changed beyond recognition.”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on,”she muttered to herself as she watched Marcel vanish from her side and melt into the sea of guests.

For a moment the entire ballroom stilled and she knew he was here. Her eyes swept the length of the ballroom till she met the gaze of the devil himself. Unlike what he used to wear when she knew him, he donned the most lavish robes and jewels she’d seen on a person. His unruly platinum hair were styled perfect to accentuate his looks. The crystalline vivid blue eyes she fell in love with were replaced by a sinister shade of ruby red. He stared intently at her, it is as if his eyes intended to pierce her skin and rip out her soul. Her stomach twisted and the chill in the air sent goosebumps down her neck and back. He never looked more glorious. The corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile as he made his way through the crowd. Her breath shallowed with each step that he took towards her.

“Duchess Reginald. It truly is you and here I thought my senses were deceiving me.” Cecily flinched at the title knowing full well that she never got to ceremoniously inherit the title since the previous Duke died at the emperor’s sword following the coup d’état and the estate was burned to a crisp not too long ago. His gentle expression of adoration cut off air from her lungs and she felt as though the string of pearls around her neck turned into a noose. She wanted to scream, to cry, to seek retribution for all the havoc he wrecked but swallowing her emotions down she placed her hand on her heart and bowed lightly,“Glory and blessings upon the rising sun of the Asterin empire,” Cecily heard melodious laughter as response to her words. Her heart dropped from the sheer impact. Cecily Reginald was a creature of pure control and the idea of losing control, especially just by his mere presence, was offensive to her. Her heart burst into multitude of emotions as she tried to rein them and stay calm.

“And I never thought I’d see you bow. But then, bowing isn’t always submission. Now is it, my dearest Cecily ?” Electricity coursed her veins at the way her name rolled off his tongue in the same tender fashion as he used to when they were younger. He’s changed beyond recognition, Marcel’s words ringed in her ears. Cecily didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of eliciting a reaction so she shifted her gaze away. Much to her dismay, her refusal just swelled his need to provoke her further .

“Please don’t shy away duchess. It’s a glorious party, would you be so kind to grant me the honour of a dance ?” The king outstretched his hand towards her with seemingly innocent intent. The emperor’s first dance of the evening, an action that symbolised winning the favour of the emperor. Which was why — traditionally it was done between courting, betrothed or wedded couples. After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand and was guided to the centre of the dance floor. The king placed a hand on her waist and interlaced his other hand with hers. The position seemed so natural to them like two pieces of a puzzle that were created to fit together. He actioned the orchestra and the waltz began without a hitch as the band of musicians weaved pleasant melodies into the air.

“You look ravishing my dearest.” Cecily’s breath hitched as the king tugged on her waist, pulling her closer. His smirk widened in satisfaction at her visceral reaction. “Thank you your majesty.” She looked at him with her eyes betraying traces of emotion even though she was restraining herself to her best capacity. But the memory of his touch still fills her heart with longing but she still hated how much the sensation excites her.

“I was informed that troops stationed north of Demaris were brutally slaughtered by the rebel forces spearheaded by a certain raven haired general. You wouldn’t know anything about that, now would you duchess ?” Cecily’s face hardened and she replied in a sharp tone,“Depends on why those troops were present in the first place your majesty.” The king’s troops were sent to forcefully evict war immigrants that were rendered homeless by the conquests of the previous emperor since he regarded them as a political liability. The villagers were kind enough to house some of the rebels in exchange for protection against the monsters near the border.

Vivacious laughter bubbles from his chest and he responded ,“Very well dearest. And please, drop the formalities. Call me by my name. Your majesty feels unnatural.” She knew provoking him any more than necessary would only spell trouble for it. Her scheme had to work out as planned. “Atticus,” she breathed out with much difficulty. Saying his name was a tougher task than she had initially thought. A pleased smirk made its way onto his lips, leaving Cecily feeling as if she had lost.

“I know blue is your colour but I have to admit, you look utterly angelic in white. You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on. What a fine bride you would make.”

Under different circumstances, she would’ve blushed and accepted the compliment graciously. Cecily felt a strange feeling of melancholy and what ifs shrouded her. She was so determined before coming here and she couldn’t afford letting her purpose dissolve just because she was holding onto the ghost of the man she loved.

“What use is beauty when you’re cursed with rotten luck the way I am. I have two dead fiancés on my tab already.” She laughed humorouslessly and eyed him with an insinuating sharpness. Atticus smiled with his evergreen charm before continuing knowingly ,“ Hmm. Maybe it’s a sign from the goddess of marriage that those men and you weren’t meant to be .”

Cecily arched her brow at his revelation. Is that what he was trying to paint them as ? Twists of fate ? She may not have loved either of them but they weren’t deserving of the end that befell them. “I know you’ve taken many aliases in your lifetime but goddess of marriage ? That’s a new one your majesty.” Atticus’ mocking clearly struck a nerve. She half expected him to take offence to her words but instead he looked at her in bemusement.

He clicked his tongue in a ‘ah’ gesture and suggested ,” Well you know what they say m’lady. Third time’s a charm .” Cecily knew exactly what he was implying but she didn’t want to grant him an ounce of satisfaction by giving him a favourable reaction .

“Unfortunately your majesty, I am above wedding kinslayers and dark magic practitioners .” She scowled at him as if testing to see if he had even an ounce of conscience intact . Atticus’ smile faltered and there was a brief flicker of discomfort in him as the implications of her words sunk in. His eyes narrowed slightly at her reaction.

“Ces I —,” but before he could respond Cecily cut him off ,“ And even if they had it coming . It doesn’t change the fact that you killed my father.” Memory of the pain of finding out about her father’s death on accounts of treason was clear as day in her heart. Carlisle Reginald was many things but not a traitor. He was so loyal to the crown that there were times when she resented him for choosing his duty over his own family.

Atticus visibly grimaced and his eyes turned to icy resentment ,“ The same father that abused you and caused you unimaginable pain in the name of training ? The same father who burnt the side of your face to destroy any chance of marriage because noblemen don’t wed women with scars ? The same father that nearly pushed you to end your life because you couldn’t handle the mantle of becoming the next swordsmaster ? Do you truly resent me for it my dearest ?” Cecily felt her throat tighten with emotion. She glanced away as though trying to think of an answer. There is no right answer to that question.

“ I don’t but —,” She admitted, her eyes still fixated on the corners of the room ,“ What about my Silas? Why did you kill him ? He looked up to you. He chose to pursue alchemy over swordsmanship because of you. He was a child . He didn’t deserve it.” The night her father died, the king’s men burnt her family estate to the ground and her brother with it.

Atticus stared at her for a couple of seconds before letting out a pained sigh ,“ My love, you must believe me. I never intended to put Silas in harm’s way . I just wanted to get rid of the duke because he was the only one standing between me and the throne. I was sure that Si would be at the academy. But unfortunately he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. If it provides any solace just know I had the informants and soldiers who failed to convey that Silas was in there executed .”

There were many things she wanted to say, to vent her frustration and anger but when the time came - her grief was too severe to be expressed in words so she just looked at him, hoping he’d see how much he made her suffer. Atticus tore his gaze away from hers and clenched his jaw as if keeping himself from saying or doing things that would just worsen their situation. Uncomfortable silence befell them as they continued to dance. For the first time she realised, that they were is a ballroom filled with people. The world seemed to have dissolved into nothingness when it came to Atticus but now she was starting to feel the weight of the other guests’ curious stares and whispers. Of course rumours would make their way across high society at the speed of lightning. Two star crossed lovers forced on opposite sides by fate. Cecily and Atticus had love, one for the ages but one chose the duty to her homeland over love and the other chose power over love. Love had no place in this fight of morality and duty. It was quite a pity really.

“But your crimes don’t end there. You delved into a form of magic that was forbidden for a reason, there is always a cost for power that wicked. Always.” She looked straight into his ruby red eyes. The vibrant blood red swirled in a way that resembled shadows obscuring a ravenous beast lurking underneath.

“Is that why you got engaged my brother ? To dispose of me and make him king ?” Cecily felt the temperature around them fall as Atticus’ eyes shone with a newfound sense of fury. Gone was the sweet and gentle man she knew, instead he was replaced by this - this thing. His fingers twitched where he held her waist as if wanting to tear into her skin.

“Sure. Let’s go with that .”She replied cooly. Logic be damned, she just wanted to shatter the mask he was wearing and truly see what he’d become.

“You think I’d let him have you ? Let him make you his queen ? I‘m so sorry if it hurts you my darling but I will slay any man who thinks he can have you . If you really want to be queen, I could make you this very moment. Just say the word.” For the first time, his suave facade cracked. He sounded almost desperate, so much so that Cecily was tempted to believe that a part of the old him was still in there. Regardless of Cedric somewhat sanctimonious and saintly character, he always lacked the vigour and the ambition it took to become king and most of all - to deserve Atticus’ goddess. Cedric was the only pure blooded prince who showed an inkling of kindness to a bastard of the previous emperor so Atticus granted him the mercy of a quick and painless death. But the idea of him wedding his beloved was beyond blasphemous and filled him with unimaginable rage; making him want to give Cedric a slow and painful death instead.

To him, Cecilia Seraphina Reginald was the closest humanity has attained to godliness. The passion she projected in her art and the fire that burned behind her eyes is enough to drive anyone to insanity . She used the sword as if it was an extension of her own body and where most fought with the crude desperation , every movement of her body was deliberate and precise as if she was floating like a butterfly through the air. With each step, she seemed to move through space and time, transcending the boundaries between ordinary and extraordinary. Each slash and strike was like a paint stroke on canvas, drawing a picture of beauty and grace in motion. Her raven hair striking a beautiful contrast against her emerald eyes . Even when her father burnt the side of her face , it barely obscured her beauty. Atticus had seen her in sickness and in health. At what she considered her worst, to his eyes — she was far more enchanting than any of the excessively powdered noble ladies he’d seen in court . There is something religious about the way he adored her. There never was a God in Atticus's life. No one deserved that title after what life had thrown at him since he was little.

He remembered the first day they met when she fended off the third prince bullying Atticus at their first day at the Royal Academy. She never once discriminated against for being an illegitimate child of the emperor. Atticus was born as a result of acts of cruelty on an elite battle mage of an enemy nation who was taken by the previous emperor as spoils of war. Despite his actions, the emperor never even bothered to officially make her his concubine so Atticus’ status in the Royal Palace was akin to that of a servant’s. Throughout his childhood, he had been a prince solely in name. His entire life, everyone looked at him as if he was some sort of abomination — except her. Despite that the dignified and legendary duke’s only daughter, the lady with the highest status after the empress and princesses themselves, when faced disapproval for befriending the emperor’s bastard, she never once turned her back on him. And not necessarily because she was kind but because it was the right thing to do. Cecily was first person in Atticus’ life who made him believe that he was worth being treated as a human.

“What have you become Atticus ? We could’ve—”

“We could’ve what exactly ? Huh ? There was no other way. And you know it.” Atticus spat out through gritted teeth, a look of abject misery flashed by Cecily’s face. He was right, unless there had been some great power intervention there was no way he could become king. It didn’t matter if the most elite swordsmaster or the nouveau rich nobles that supported him, he could never get past the old nobility and the six legitimate pure blooded princes.

“What is worth it ?” She asked with her words dying by the end of the sentence. For a moment, she felt as though she was back when they were kids and how he would talk about making them pay. No rebels or tyrants, no duty or thirst for power — just as Ces and Atty .

Something in Atticus’ snapped as he gripped her wrist tighter,“ Better than anything I ever imagined. They always acted so high and mighty, you should’ve seen how they grovelled and begged . It was worth it, all of it.”

“Was it worth losing me ?” Cecily knew she shouldn’t have asked something she didn’t want him to answer. She knew she shouldn’t have crossed that line. She shouldn’t have because she knew the answer. But she had to— in order to move on, to let him go, to fulfil her duty and destiny.

“I haven’t lost you” Out of all the responses he could’ve given , this was the least expected. Did he truly believe that ? Cecily searched his face for any signs of fallacy or trickery but found none. Her mouth fell open in disbelief and after composing herself she asked ,“ What makes you say that ?”

“The way I feel for you.” He answered without even skipping a beat. Cecily scoffed internally, the way he felt for her ? What a jest. It was common knowledge that the starting price for dark magic is a person’s humanity. Dark magicians were known to not be able to feel anything let alone remorse or guilt .

“That’s not true. You can’t feel anything.” She jeered at him. Atticus didn’t respond and twirled and lifted her into the air in accordance to the rhythm of the waltz. His lack of reaction almost made her think that he didn’t hear what she said, she opened her mouth to say that again but was cut off by his reply ,“Contrary to popular beliefs my darling , dark magic doesn’t completely deprive a person of all emotion. It merely diminishes emotions that were present in silvers and amplifies the most emotions felt by the person. In short, the user becomes absolutely sure of what they feel and what they want. Anger becomes rage , sadness becomes despair , fear becomes horror and love becomes –” As he spoke, he pressed his lips against her hand. She can feel the heat of his breath in the centre of her palm ,“ — unbridled obsession.” Cecily breath hitched as he moved his lips up her wrist to her palm again, tracing her veins with his lips.

"Pray tell, is that how it went ? Your barter of soul with a devil for dominion only to find yourself upon the throne, consumed by anguish not because you killed your family but rather by the realization that your affection for me would impede your ambitions ?"

Atticus got closer to her. His eyes were locked on hers, and his lips had a slight twitch to them. Lust. He was never the type to give into such base urges, but in the her presence - he craved her. A part of him hated this feeling even more than her tormenting comments. If only he could kill her and rid himself of this weakness of the flesh. “You aren’t far from it . You know I never understood the appeal my father saw in my mother but I guess I do see it now. Fiesty enemy general that just refuses to concede and all.”

“And here I thought you said you were never going to be anything like your father. I guess you kings are doomed to repeat failures of your predecessors. After all the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” He absentmindedly hummed in response to her words as if neither agreeing nor disagreeing. His eyes were fixated on his thumb caressing her wrist, Cecily noticed it and tilted her head to her side as if silently asking ‘what’re you thinking ?’

“You aren’t wrong my darling. Maybe I am the same as him. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I have everything I wanted. Except for a couple things and I don’t intend on stopping until I’ve got them.” Atticus’ eyes gleamed with a glint of great impending danger. He paused for a second as if debating whether he should disclose his plans or not but in the festive atmosphere decided the former. “You’re quite a stubborn little thing you know. I wonder if I were to incapacitate you from wielding the blade ever again, would your resolve shatter ? All the princes are dead, there’s no one to succeed me. I’ve made sure of it. Who would you crown king after me ?” He wondered if he chopped her wrists off so that she couldn’t use her sword again, would she stop resisting then ? Or perhaps if he snapped her ankles then maybe she wouldn’t be able to run away ?

“Incapacitate me ? You think you could do that ?” Albeit Cecily knew she was playing with fire, she wanted to see to what limits she could provoke him before he took extreme measures. They were playing a dangerous game. Both were waiting for the other to make a mistake, to lose their cool and to drop the civil facade and settle the score .

Others might see Atticus as this stone cold man with no feelings, but his heart was beating loud and clear in his chest, seemingly for one purpose. He hoped that his emotional conflict would clear out once he made the deal but it didn’t help. Not one bit. He often found his eyes subconsciously searching for the familiar figure in the crowds of people he’d address every day, wanting nothing more than to reach out and have her with him again. The scent of her skin and the light lavender fragrance haunted him as he tried to sleep, the vivid image of her following him in his dreams. If it were up to him, he’d drag her to the church alter this very moment and make good on the wedding gown she was wearing. He knew she wore that to mock his guilty conscience, that is if he had any left.

“I have my knights stationed at every corner of the ballroom. One action and they’ll attack.”

“You think fresh recruits could even hold a candle against a swordmaster ?” She was right, no matter how trained they would never able to best her. The only one who stood a chance against her skill was he himself. No one else.

He chuckled at her spirit, it was one of the things he adored most about her. “No. Not really.” Cecily smiled with a victorious expression but at the same time she knew if he were to use his magic, things were bound to get messy. Although not their own, but much blood would be spilt and in a room full of the empire’s finest — it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

a/n 2.0 – After reading this my current writing seems so crappy wtf. I guess there is a reason this took three months to write. Tho good to know I couldn’t articulate my thoughts well enough to make a respectable plot even back then. Sorry for the abrupt ending, tumblr kept glitching so I had to split it in two. I’ll upload pt.2 in a week.

#yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere core #yandere x oc #yandere male #male yandere #tw: yandere #yandere imagines #oc x oc #songfic #lovers to enemies #hurt/no comfort #angst #historical fantasy #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n

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