#I imagine the betrayer standing over them with a sword-eyes icy
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“Could I have said anything that would’ve stopped you?”
“I’m sorry.”
#whump#angst#betrayal#near death#team#I imagine the betrayer standing over them with a sword-eyes icy#filled with hate-and yet those two words-both a wish never to be fulfilled-and an apology for what’s to come
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a throne of roses | hwang hyunjin
genre: royal au, fluff/angst, fem!reader
warnings: blood, violence, a little suggestive (hehe)
word count: 16.7k+
description: when the king that conquered your country, hwang hyunjin, arranged a marriage for the two of you, not once did you expect to feel any emotion except hatred and bitterness to blossom between you. will you stand to hate your enemy until the end, or will you realize that the cold-hearted ruler is not as cruel as he seemed?
a/n: im back!! im so sorry to have been gone so long. i suffered a huge writer’s block, and even now, im really not sure how this fic holds up despite being my longest story by a lonnnngggg shot. i really hope people like it ahhhh >.< i will get back to my kiss prompts now that i got this monster fic out of the way! as always, i love all of you guys and my ask box/dms are always open if anyone wants to be friends!! <3
prologue.
The city was burning.
Screams and sounds of roaring flame filled the air, the sky clouded from the smoke. You spurred your horse on at breakneck speed with the remnants of your battered army. A horrible deception, a betrayal of the worst kind, sent you to fight on the border while your enemy snuck in, attacking the capitol at its weakest moment.
You burst into the throne room just in time to see a figure standing above your mother and father. Their blood dripped down the marble staircases leading up to the throne, staining the pure white stone into a sickening red.
“No!” You let out a guttural scream as you flung yourself at the man, your wicked blade aimed at his vulnerable throat, ready to kill.
The man whirled to face you at the last second, raising his blade and intercepting your blow with a loud clang that echoed in the room, “Princess,” he smiled in greeting, holding you back as you continued to press your blade firmly against his.
“Hwang Hyunjin, you bastard!” you snarled, twisting out of the sword lock and parrying with his blade skillfully. Staring at the eyes of the wretched king, the ruler that had drove your kingdom into war, your fury was increased tenfold. You wanted nothing more than to slit his throat and throw his dead body out into the streets for what he did to your beloved country.
Hyunjin let out a noise you vaguely recognized as a laugh, “My apologies. I wasn’t expecting you to return so quickly, Your Highness,” he lashed out with a lethal strike, but you almost predicted it, blocking his attack with your blade. Still, Hyunjin didn’t seem the least bit fazed, and he continued to toy with you, enjoying a fight with someone so skilled, “The attack in the south mountain pass was supposed to delay you for more than two days.”
Your blood boiled at his mockery, because no matter if you’d controlled the winds to bring you back to the capitol, Hyunjin would’ve still had the advantage with his much stronger army.
“You know my father was considering your terms of surrender,” you spit out, ducking under his attack and striking at his open left side, but Hyunjin parried it, smirking as your anger grew.
“Well, he was taking a little too long, so I decided to speed up the process,” he replied, a wicked smile on his face as he finally caught an opening, and with a merciless slash of his sword, he nicked your right arm to the bone, cutting through the chainmail and drawing frightening amounts of blood.
There was no time to wallow in the pain. You dropped your sword, catching it with your left hand and continuing your attack, but you were tiring quickly. Fighting your parents’ war had worn you down, and you didn’t have the strength you had when you first started fighting.
Keeping a watchful eye, you felt a spark of hope as you caught an opening. You grabbed it without a second to waste, twisting your blade and aiming at his leg when you suddenly felt a blinding pain on your calf. You let out a cry, fallowing to your knees before the king who only smiled as his subordinates pinned you down, holding your arms back and pressing your face onto the marble floor.
“Do you have any last words, Princess?” Hyunjin cooed as your hair was yanked back, forcing you to look at the cruel man.
“I hope you burn in hell,” you smiled, spitting at the ground before him.
Hyunjin gripped your chin tightly, the smile on his face icy and controlled, “My, my, what a temper,” he chuckled before letting go of your face and backing away. The sun glinted through the windows, shining behind Hyunjin’s head like a halo. How ironic. The man was no angel, not at all.
The last thing you could see was the king’s conceited smile before you felt blinding pain on the back of your head, knocking you out instantly.
i.
“Unlock the cell.”
Your head raised a fraction, your ears perking up at the mere sound of the familiar voice. After you were knocked out, you were dragged back to Hyunjin’s palace as a prisoner of war, chained in a dungeon cell with your hands hanging over your head, your armor having been stripped of you.
As you kept your eyes trained to the floor, Hyunjin’s footsteps padded towards you, stopping right in front of your battered form.
“Princess Y/N. The goddess of victory. A dazzling warrior on the battlefield, feared by her enemies and respected by her subordinates,” Hyunjin’s voice crooned with mock pity, “How does it feel to become the defeated princess, fallen from grace?”
You smirked, finally tilting your head up to glare at him with your cold eyes, “Better than being a coward that’s too scared to finish the job,” you snarled, and the restraints snapped tight as you pulled them with a violent tug.
“You’re really pushing all the wrong buttons, Princess,” Hyunjin sighed, kicking some of the dirt and gravel that had collected in the dungeon away from his foot, “With all the trouble you gave my army, you deserve the most slow and painful death imaginable.”
“Oh? And what else does the infamously sadistic prince of the north have in store for me? I must say, I’ve been rather bored hanging here,” you sneered, making a deliberate show of licking your lips.
For the first time, Hyunjin looked visibly annoyed, his jaw clenching as he hissed almost to himself, “I should have just killed you.”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness. You still have a chance,” you said pleasantly, smiling at the king as if you weren’t chained up in his prison cell.
“Unfortunately, I need you alive.”
You couldn’t help but scoff, “How terrible for you. How might I be of service, Your Majesty” Your voice was mocking, your lips curled in a sneer as Hyunjin studied your face.
The king gave you a halfhearted glare, like he didn’t know whether to punish you for your loose mouth or just let it go because it wasn’t quite worth it. He gazed at you, skeptical intrigue clear in his eyes when he finally muttered, “Release the chains.”
You were not expecting such an order, and frankly, the guard was not expecting it either, “B-but, Your Majesty!”
“I’m not repeating myself a second time,” Hyunjin spoke simply, but his voice had an edge to it, as if daring the man to refuse his command. You could’ve sworn that the guard let out a squeak of fear as he nodded obediently, fumbling through his keys as he began to unlock the chains that cut into the soft skin of your wrist.
When you finally felt the cuffs free your hands, you lost the only support holding you up, and your weakened legs buckled under the weight of your body. Before you could hit the floor hard, a firm body held you up, intercepting your fall and cushioning you with their chest as an arm wrapped around your waist.
“Oh dear,” Hyunjin sighed, easily picking up your weakened and frail body, carrying you in his arms as he walked out of the cell, “What am I going to do with you?”
“You know you could really just kill me,” you mumble in response as your head lolled against his chest, your hand absently bunching up his clothing to find a crevice to hold onto.
“I know,” To your surprise, Hyunjin answered, and in your pain muddled state, he almost sounded gentle, “but I’d rather not do that if I can help it.”
Your tired, dazed eyes stared up at the king, only barely processing his words before sleep wrapped its comforting arms around you, lulling you with soothing words as your eyes finally fluttered closed and your head fell against Hyunjin’s chest.
“No one lays a finger on her. I don’t care if she’s an enemy commander, a foreign princess, or whatever other disgusting things you say,” Hyunjin spoke darkly after he’d tucked you in his bed, pulling the covers over your body. Letting go of his restraint for a moment, he allowed his expression to soften as he brushed a strand of your hair away from your face before his eyes turned ice cold once again.
“Do you hear me? I see one more scratch on her body, and your heads will roll,” Hyunjin’s voice held the undertone of a growl as he stepped away from the bed, “Alert me when she wakes. Immediately.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
ii.
The first thing you noticed about your new surroundings was how soft the mattress was. Your finger twitched as your hand began to feel at the satin bedsheets. The pillow your head rested on felt as fluffy as a cloud, a luxury that you didn’t even have back at your own palace. This wasn’t the dungeon...no...this was--
Your eyes flew open as you sat up, your brain hard-wired for danger as you looked around the room. They were surprisingly lavish lodgings for a prisoner of war, if you could say so yourself. From the red satin curtains on the bed to the intricate designs of the ceilings and the walls, you would even venture and say that this room was fit for a king.
“So, the princess has awoken,” A voice pulled you out of your curious thoughts and immediately replaced them with thoughts of murder and annoyance as Hyunjin strolled into the room, dressed as immaculately as always.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” you replied, keeping your eyes trained on the blankets that covered you as you began to massage your legs through the covers. After a couple days of hanging in the dungeon, your legs had lost their strength and you were practically aching bring them back to their original state.
Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin smiled at your snide comments, rather enjoying the dry banter, “I didn’t know it would be a pleasure to see me.”
“It isn’t. I was just trying to be polite,” you said without missing a beat, maintaining a deadpan expression as you commented, “You’re quite generous to provide such a lavish guest room to a prisoner that threatens your control over your newly claimed country.”
“This isn’t a guest room,” Hyunjin corrected you as he pulled a chair closer to your side of the bed, sitting down even as you distinctively refused to look at him, “It’s my bedroom.”
Your apathetic expression faltered for a moment, a true sign of just how much the revelation had flustered you, “Your bedroom?” you repeated, a tang of disgust in your tone that couldn’t be missed even if one tried to avoid it.
“Yes, Your Highness, I’m afraid it is,” Hyunjin had wanted you to sleep in comfort. He hadn’t wanted to keep you in the dungeon for so long, but he had gotten distracted with business with another neighboring kingdom, and he didn’t trust his men enough to let them deal with you. After all, you’d put up a difficult fight keeping them out of your kingdom, and many soldiers were bitter with the long war that was raged.
But all of that? He would never tell you.
Sputtering at his nonchalant expression, you finally looked up at him, a scowl on your face, “Are you truly an idiot? The only people allowed to stay in the king’s chambers are the king and--” you suddenly froze, and Hyunjin could see you putting the pieces together in your head as your eyes narrowed at him, and he had to physically hold back his nervous gulp.
“What are you planning, Your Majesty?” your expression was darker than the shadows of the deepest caves, and your knuckles were white from how hard you were gripping the bedsheets.
“Since I’m sure you’ve figured most of it out already, I won’t beat around the bush,” Hyunjin spoke nonchalantly, glancing at your hands for a split second before turning his gaze to your face.
“I want you to be my Queen.”
The silence that screamed between the two of you was shrill and long until you broke it with a choked voice of disbelief, “That’s not funny, Your Majesty.”
“I assure you, I don’t like to joke around,” Hyunjin replied, “I want to wed you and unite our two kingdoms with marriage instead of blood.”
“Well, you should’ve offered that first, don’t you think?!” you snarled, shifting to lash out at the man when you winced, grabbing at your leg that throbbed from your sudden movements, “How dare you say that to me now, after you burned our cities to the ground? After you killed so many of my people?”
Hyunjin was silent for a moment, and if you didn’t know him any better, you might’ve thought he was genuinely contemplating on how to respond. Finally, he sighed, slumping forward in his seat as he reached down and began to gently massage your legs over the covers.
“H-hey--” The protests died in your mouth as the relaxing sensations drove your body to loosen up even as your brain screamed for you to do something. But what could you do? Especially when the gentle ministrations of his hands felt oh so soothing to your worn out muscles.
“Princess, I truly do not want to force you into marriage,” your ears perked up at his curiously gentle tone. What was the man playing at? He sounded almost genuine as he appealed to you.
“Then, don’t,” you replied easily, merciless and without hesitation, “You have already taken over the capitol. I am sure the lords surrendered, they were always a spineless bunch,” you couldn’t hide the spite in your tone. The lack of support from the nobles of your kingdom was another reason you had suffered such a crushing defeat.
Hyunjin let out a chuckle, and his hands squeezed a little softer and with more gentle strokes as if trying to relax you, “Yes, the nobles of your kingdom were quite quick to accept any of my conditions as long as I kept their estates intact,” you scoffed at his words before he continued, “but unfortunately for me, the rest of your people are not as cowardly.”
Your eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”
“Many riots and small scale rebellions have erupted around the land and in the capitol as well,” Hyunjin admitted, keeping his eyes focused on the blankets around your legs, “We...aren’t familiar with how the country is run, and they are not pleased with the sudden existence of foreign military force.”
“Did you really think they would be overjoyed to see you?” You asked, deadpan.
The king ignored your sarcastic comments, “Small rebellions have begun to emerge, especially in the capitol and in some of the neighboring towns,” he continued, studying your face and gauging your reactions, “They won’t rest until they have their rightful ruler back. Our marriage could solve that and calm the unrest.”
“Marriage can’t be the only option,” you protested, desperate to get out of this, “I can renounce my claim to the throne, and then you’d be the only ruler. You won’t have any need to marry me at all.”
“That can’t happen!” Hyunjin snapped, trying to hide the sudden burst of nervousness that fluttered in his heart, “Your people would never accept that you of all people would renounce your claim. They would just assume I forced you into it.”
“Oh, like the marriage isn’t forced either?” you retorted coldly, crossing your arms.
Hyunjin’s hands on your legs slowed to a stop, “Princess,” his voice was soft, “My men have not begun to enforce the brunt of the law on those riots, but they are growing anxious. The people who are sick of fighting are being targeted by those who call them traitors. Your people are killing each other--”
“And who’s fault is it?” you bared your teeth in a snarl, and if you had a weapon at that moment, you would’ve plunged it into Hyunjin’s shoulder in a fit of rage, “Who’s fault is it?”
The king’s expression grew a little darker, and his hands fell to his sides as he sensed your anger, “I understand your anger, your hatred. If the spots were switched, I would not be listening to a word you say either. But,” his eyes bore into yours, and in them, you found nothing but honest sincerity as he spoke, “you and I both know that I was not the one who started this war.”
You froze, your jaw going slack as Hyunjin’s words seeped into the depths of your heart. He was right; his kingdom did not start the war, yours did. Your parents, becoming greedy for the jewels that Hyunjin’s mountainous kingdom produced, had continued to aggravate and stir up tensions in the border until your army finally threw the first punch.
In the end, it was you who reaped what you sow, and you supposed that this was heaven’s way of getting back at you for your foolishness.
“I have conditions.”
Hyunjin perked up immediately at your words and he nodded, “Let’s hear them,” he said, his expression with its normal mask of impassiveness, but you were beginning to see through it, finding the genuine eagerness that he hid from the world.
“My people will not be treated like second class citizens,” you said, your voice hard. This was something you would never budge on, “They deserve the same rights and the same freedoms as your people.”
“Of course, you have my word,” Hyunjin nodded firmly, “Your people will be treated the same as mine.”
You couldn’t help the flash of approval that shone in your eyes before you cleared your throat, “I will also want to have a say in the new policy reforms you’ll instill on my kingdom.”
Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, but he didn’t seem surprised by your request in the slightest, “That is a given. After all, I don’t want a queen that doesn’t question my orders,” he chuckled as he studied your face, “Although, I am curious. I already gave you my word that I will treat your people well, why do you want to be involved with the policy making?”
“Because you are a conqueror, not a king,” you replied firmly, not ounce of doubt in your words, “at least to my people. You do not understand their temperament and their customs, just as I do not understand yours. If they sense that your new laws do not actively seek out what’s best for them, they will not follow them, marriage or not.”
For a moment, you feared that you had spoken too much, spoken out of turn for a mere prisoner of war, but Hyunjin gave a noise of understanding after considering your words, “I understand. You may be present for every council meeting.”
That surprised you, and you raised a suspicious eyebrow at the king. You had expected him to accept your advice, but you didn’t expect him to give you the permission to give your advice freely in front of his commanders. You didn’t know much about Hyunjin’s laws, but you studied your kingdom’s neighbors enough to know that this was quite unorthodox.
“What?” Hyunjin chuckled as he noticed your suspicious gaze, “You asked for it.”
“I just wasn’t sure your commanders would be very excited to see a woman tell them what to do,” you retorted dryly.
Hyunjin shrugged, looking not the least bit bothered, “If they aren’t, then they lose their post, that’s all,” before you could really acknowledge just how nonchalant he was about giving you power over his council, he looked at you expectantly, “Anything else?”
After pondering for a moment, your fingers fiddling with the sheets absently, you finally decided on the last condition.
“I will be your one and only.”
Hyunjin’s brow furrowed, and at first, you took it to mean discontent with your demand, but it was merely confusion, “What do you mean?”
Your cheeks grew a little hot as you were forced to elaborate on your rather embarrassing request, “You will not take another wife after you are done exploiting me to transition my kingdom into yours,” you spoke simply, not bothering to mince your words any further, “I won’t be arrogant enough to think that I can prevent you from finding a mistress--”
“I don’t want--” The king suddenly interrupted you, and his choked tone of voice was rather unexpected. Hyunjin looked at you as if he had something urgent to tell you, something that was close to bursting out of his mouth if he didn’t decide to say it himself. Yet, when he finally managed to speak, you knew it wasn’t the words he’d originally wanted to say.
“I don’t want a mistress. I have no intention of seeing anyone else romantically after you,” Hyunjin said firmly, his intense brown eyes staring deep into yours to convey his sincerity, “This condition, I can promise you easily.”
You nodded mutely, not wanting to admit how him treating your marriage with steadfast devotion made you feel. It was just purely for political purposes, after all.
“If you agree to uphold those three conditions,” you looked to Hyunjin as you spoke softly, your next words sealing your fate, “then I agree to your proposal.”
For the first time since you’ve met him, Hyunjin let a flash of excitement pass across his face for a moment, “You’ll marry me?” he asked, and if you blinked, you’d missed the eagerness in his tone, “I want you to say it, Princess.”
“Why? Is my word not enough for you, Your Majesty?” Your lips quirked up in a dry smile.
“Are you really so cold as to deny me this one request?” As you gazed at the young king, you noticed the guarded look in his expression, as if he was bracing for you to snap, to lash out at him coldly.
You refused to let it get to you, but you were grateful that he was so receptive to your demands. As a princess of a once flourishing kingdom, you were no stranger to kings, princes, lords, and anyone else of that sort. None of them would ever dream of giving you the courtesy that the man was giving you at the moment. Perhaps you could return the favor at least a little.
“I want to marry you, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin’s genuinely stunned expression stayed in your brain as you went to sleep that night, comfortably swathed in the king’s lavish silk and satin sheets.
iii.
“Not that I’m not excited to return, but why exactly are we going back to my kingdom for the wedding?” You asked curiously as you rode your horse through the mountainous roads necessary to cross into your side of the border, “Isn’t it dangerous to send a captured princess back to her own territory?”
“Ah, but you see,” Hyunjin smiled, the sunlight hitting his face in a way that made him look almost ethereal, “you’re not a captured princess. You’re my fiancé, and it’s a long standing tradition to marry at the bride’s hometown, is it not?”
You rolled your eyes discreetly at his shameless words, giving your horse a light bump of your leg to spur it ahead of Hyunjin’s. Damn northerners and their thick blood, you cursed as you shivered again, still not accustomed to the icy temperatures of the mountains even during the spring.
“Here,” A sudden weight on your shoulders pulled you out of your thoughts, one that was warm and soft. Feeling it with your hands and tilting your head to glance at it, your eyes widened.
“Hyunjin, you absolute idiot, this--”
“Is a royal cape? Yes, I know,” Hyunjin answered nonchalantly, his horse galloping leisurely beside yours.
You sputtered incomprehensibly until you finally managed to put words together, “Only the king can wear this!”
Hyunjin tilted his head towards you inquisitively, “And?”
“It’s basically law!” You exclaimed, wondering if the king truly had some issues like the rumors had stated during your time in the war. Shaking your head, your hand grabbed the edge of the cape, ready to rip it off you when Hyunjin’s hand lashed out, grabbing your hand and stopping your motions.
“Don’t,” his voice was stern as he looked into your eyes, and you felt your blood boil at the light show of concern in his expression, “You’re cold, right? It’ll keep you warm.”
“Did you not hear a word I said?” You scoffed, trying to pull yourself away from Hyunjin, but the road was only so wide, and there wasn’t much room for you to maneuver, “It’s a royal cape. Only the king is allowed to wear it.”
Hyunjin blinked, “Well, I’m the king, so my word is law,” he answered, looking not the least bit bothered, “and I’d rather keep my fiancé healthy than abide by some stuffy tradition.”
You were so flustered by his blunt words that you stopped fighting against his grip. The moment he felt the resistance flow out of your body, Hyunjin flashed you a charming smile before spurring his horse to take a pace just a little faster than yours.
Oh, so that was how he wanted to play. Scowling, you gently kicked the side of your horse, causing them to gallop past Hyunjin as your lips quirked into a pleased smile.
“You know, if you go any faster, you’ll lose our entourage,” Hyunjin mused as he easily urged his horse forward, matching your pace and riding side my side with you, the procession of knights, maids and servants following behind.
Glancing back, you noticed that they were a slight distance away and with a huff of air, you tugged at the reigns, slowing your horse to appease him, “Now, is that really such a bad thing?” you asked, blinking innocently.
Hyunjin gave you a wry smile, one that had grown warmer through the week you’d stayed at his palace. It was a rather strange predicament you had found yourself falling into. Realizing that there was no way for you to avoid the marriage, you had decided to do the only other thing possible to prevent it.
That was to be totally obnoxious to the point where the king would have no choice but to turn his nose up in scorn and leave you to be.
Except, it didn’t quite work that way, and on the contrary, Hyunjin seemed to enjoy bantering with you. In fact, you had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to pull it out of you, to push your buttons as much as you push his.
It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but it wasn’t there worst possible scenario.
“Hello? Y/N!” Hyunjin reached over, poking your cheek and pulling out a surprised squeak from you.
“What?” you snapped, blushing that you were caught so blatantly with your guard down.
The king gave you a strange glance, also noticing that you were unusually inattentive. His eyes studied your face with something akin to concern in his expression before he dropped the subject, “We’re here, the border.”
You looked around, immediately feeling the wave of nostalgia hit you in full force as you stood at the top of the mountain, gazing at the large expanse of your kingdom, or rather, what was once your kingdom. The lush green fields, the massive trees that looked like specs from where you were, and in the far distance, the capitol city. Your old home.
Suddenly, you felt a gentle nudge on your arm as Hyunjin looked at you, “Let’s scout ahead of the entourage.”
Despite your moment of weakness, you couldn’t help but smirk, sweetness dripping from your words, “Don’t you have scouts in your entourage, Your Majesty?”
“Very funny. You know what I mean,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, but his expression curled into a sly smile as if daring, goading you towards something, “Don’t you want to race and see who’s really the better rider?”
A predatory smile appeared on your lips, your natural response due to how utterly competitive you were, “Are you sure you want your whole court to witness your loss?”
“Oh, please. You might never want to go out and ride with me again after you experience your crushing defeat.”
The grin you were showing was wicked, not so different from smile that would flit across your face during the heat of a battle, “Don’t run away crying when you lose.”
“I would never run away from you, Princess.”
You only gave him a saccharine smile in return, and without another word, you flicked your wrist, sending your horse forward with a burst of speed. There was no need to look back; Hyunjin was hot on your heels.
The two of you descended down the mountainous path, going faster than normal but staying mindful of the potential dangers. Once you made it to the flat plains, your smile widened and the two of your tore down the road.
For the first time since you’d lost your kingdom, you felt truly free, your long hair and the silk of your dress billowing behind you, the wind blowing in your face as you tore past the plains and into the woods. In a moment of consciousness, you could hear Hyunjin’s laugh from behind you, but you could hardly bring yourself to care. Let him chase you. It only made things more exciting.
You finally pulled your horse to a full stop as you reached the edge of the hill. Breathing heavily, you gazed as the winding road that sloped down, lower and lower until it reached the capitol city. You were home. You stared at the falling sun, the quaint little houses below, and you could almost smell the fresh bread at the corner bakery you frequented back when you were young. sneaking out of the palace because you hated the posh, white bread they served.
Hyunjin pulled his horse to wait beside yours, catching the peaceful smile on your face. There was something alluring about you when you fought against him, but seeing what you looked like when you tasted true happiness, it made his heart soften just a little.
“It’s beautiful,” he commented, slowing his horse down beside yours.
“You should see it during the lantern festivals,” you smiled, looking down at the immense city from a distance, “The city lights up at night, and no one sleeps that entire week.”
“Maybe we should come back to experience it one day,” Hyunjin suggested, his voice casual, but his eyes shrouded with slight uncertainty, knowing that he was probing into untapped territory.
To his surprise, the relaxed smile on your face remained, “That’s not a bad idea,” you mused. Rolling your shoulders, you let out a sigh, looking out at the city below.
Then, reality hit you like a club to the gut as your eyes caught sight of the flag that waved at the front of the castle. Distant, barely discernible, but you knew at a glance. It was not your kingdom’s flag, and it was the cruelest reminder of the reason you were allowed to come home in the first place.
The king followed your line of sight, curious as to what caused such a sudden change in mood. When his eyes fell to the flag looming over the city, it clicked, “Y/N,” he started, swallowing as he considered his words carefully, “I have to establish rule at least for a little--”
“Don’t patronize me,” Your voice was colder than ice, and Hyunjin cursed at ill fate of your relationship. Always half a step forward, then three steps back, “I’m no stranger to conquering cities. Let’s get to the palace before dark,” you flicked the reigns, prepping your horse to begin moving.
“Wait--” Hyunjin’s hand reached over to grab your wrist before he was even fully conscious of his own actions. Surprised, your head whipped around to look at his face before looking down at where his large hand completely wrapped around your thin wrist.
“We have quite some time before the sky begins to darken at all,” Hyunjin reasoned with you calmly, and his thumb brushed against the soft skin of your arm in an instinctive attempt to appease your obvious anger, “And the rest of the court has not yet caught up to us.”
“Do you want us to lay down a cloth on the grass and chat over some afternoon tea?” You scoffed, trying to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened, squeezing his hand around your wrist as if he thought you would disappear right in front of him if he wasn’t touching you.
Hyunjin sighed, “I only want you to let me explain myself.”
If your anger had not boiled over before, it certainly did now. You rounded your horse to face him, your eyes burning with controlled fury, “Explain yourself? What exactly do you need to explain? Your kingdom conquered mine, lay siege to the capitol, burned down the cities in your path, and now you’re taking me as your trophy wife--”
“You’re not a trophy wife, Y/N,” Hyunjin finally interrupted you, his voice firm and steadfast. He looked you straight in the eye, his gaze never faltering as he spoke his mind, “I did not ask you to be my wife just to mutely sit by my side. I want your counsel, your advice, your opinion. You will be my Queen in both name and power.”
Taken aback by his words, your anger faltered and turned only into confusion, “Then,” you spoke, so flustered that you didn’t even notice Hyunjin’s hand had trailed down to hold your hand in his, “what was the point in conquering my country so completely, if you were planning to give me power in the first place?”
Hyunjin smiled, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You noticed that he smiled like that often; never quite looking fake but never truly happy either, “Your parents.”
Immediately, you stiffened, and just from your reaction, Hyunjin knew his explanation was partially complete, “I needed to remove them from the picture completely, and to do that, I needed a total victory.”
An uncomfortable feeling twisted in your gut. It was your mother and father that he was talking about! You should’ve been furious, spatting at the ground he walked on for his words to both of them, but in the end, you could only protest weakly, “Still, there was no need to--”
“You know they fed off the poor, right?” Hyunjin asked, his voice turning cold, “You know they corrupted the distribution of wealth and crops to fund their own gambling addiction, right?”
Your heart turned to ice as you stared at Hyunjin in absolute horror, “H-how did you--”
“Do you think your kingdom’s secrets stay inside the kingdom forever?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at your naivety, “Envoys talk, rumors spread. The king and queen of your kingdom were not fit to carry the weight of their people on their shoulders.”
Finally having enough of this pain, this scabs of your heart that Hyunjin was cruelly picking at, you snapped, turning your face away, “Then why marry me at all?! If you scorn at my parents’ corruption, why choose me? Is this just a twisted way of shoving their crimes into my face?”
“Because you’re not like them,” Hyunjin answered simply.
A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips, “You sound foolishly certain about that, Your Majesty.”
“I am,” The king did not mince his words. Why should he, when he knew it was true beyond a shadow of a doubt?
“I know you are nothing like them. You were their bandage, desperately trying to make up for their actions,” Hyunjin continued, “You compensated for their depletion of the bank with your own funds, you fed the poor from food storages hidden from the eyes of your parents.”
Unbeknownst to you, his eyes softened and he let warmth into his voice, “You fought me because of a war they started, and they intended you to be the only one who would pay the price for it.”
Your eyes felt uncomfortable tight as if you were about to cry, and under no circumstance were you going to let that happen in front of Hyunjin, “Why tell me all this now?” you asked, your voice uncharacteristically resigned as you kept your eyes trained at the distant palace, “You think I’m not fully aware of their cruelty? You think I haven’t spent my entire life trying to make up for my parents’ actions?”
Hyunjin didn’t speak for a moment, taking in the weight of your words, “If I may ask,” he started softly, “if you knew about it, why didn’t you overthrow them? You certainly had the resources and the support of your people.”
The question brought a dry smile to your face as you turned to look at Hyunjin, “You’re right,” you answered wryly, “why didn’t I? It would’ve been the most logical course of action, don’t you think?” Hyunjin had no answer, because he knew your question was merely a rhetorical one, and he wasn’t about to fall into another one of your honeytraps and let you dodge the question that has plagued his mind since he first crossed blades with you.
“There isn’t anything complicated to it, really,” you glanced at Hyunjin with a sort of resigned annoyance, “I just couldn’t bring it in me to betray my family.”
“Did they ever even give you anything?” Hyunjin asked incredulously, “Did they ever show you affection at all?”
The almost spiteful questions made you laugh bitterly, “No, not at all,” Turning to Hyunjin, you gave a smile that didn’t reach your eyes, “Foolish me, right?”
Hyunjin stared at you, the sly comeback on the tip of his tongue disappearing as soon as it appeared. Despite your cold expression, your eyes told the truth, and he could see that your heart pained at the notion of having covered for your parents since you were old enough to read, only for them to throw you to the wolves, betraying you for money.
“It isn’t foolish to love your parents,” Hyunjin answered softly, causing your eyes to widen in surprise, “It might be just an innate instinct to, even if they mistreat us.”
You let out a disbelieving chuckle, “Maybe you’re right.”
“You don’t have to feel guilt about what happened to them, you know,” Hyunjin turned to face the horizon where the sun was setting behind the palace.
“I don’t.”
“Don’t lie, it’s written all over your face,” Hyunjin said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “It’s killing you inside that you didn’t save your parents in time, right?”
You looked down at your hands, your heart burning with festering guilt, “How can I not?”
“You shouldn’t,” Hyunjin said bluntly, “They betrayed you to me, hoping that it would save them, when it only sealed their fate. There was nothing you could do about it.”
“I could’ve stopped you if I was only a moment earlier,” you argued, the guilt that had been bottled up inside you finally bursting out due to his prodding, “If I was only a little faster, then I would’ve--”
“Princess,” Hyunjin’s soft voice cut into your thoughts, “They didn’t deserve your kindness.”
You refused to admit how much his words soothed your anxiety, and in the dead of night, how they’d repeat in your head, allowing sleep to finally defeat the trauma your parents had instilled into you.
iv.
“Your Highness, please come sit down so I can do your hair!”
The sound of your exasperated maids filled your bedroom chamber as you huffed, tying your new silk robe in place before plopping down on the chair in front of the vanity, “What’s the rush? We have four hours before the wedding.”
Chaeryeong clicked her tongue in obvious exasperation, “Spending all your time out on the battlefield since birth, do you even know how much time it takes to get ready? Plus, you’re the future Queen, Your Highness! What would your husband think if you didn’t look prim and proper for the biggest event of your lives?”
Ah yes, your current fiancé.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Hyunjin was doing his utmost to get on your good side. The moment the two of you arrived at your palace, Hyunjin lavished his wealth on you and your upcoming wedding. Every day you spent with him, he’d give you a gift, ranging from a simple rose to silk robes made by the finest tailors on the continent. You’d told him over and over that you didn’t need extravagance like this, but the king paid you no mind, and the boxes continued to be delivered to your bedroom every day.
If you were being honest, your heart had begun to feel a little warmer to him, his gentle actions chipping at your icy walls. It wasn’t just the gifts, it was his unabashed care for you that made you think that he was almost excited to be married to you, a rather outrageous idea in itself.
“Your Highness!” a voice interrupted your thoughts as Yuna scurried over to you, “His Majesty is outside.”
“Outside of this room?” you asked, turning to face her in surprise.
She nodded in confirmation, “He says he has something to give you.”
Hyunjin stood at the other side of your door, already dressed immaculately in his uniform, spotless and practically dripping with charm. He had walked over to your bedroom, eager to present you with his daily gift when Yuna had slipped out and promptly stopped him from going in.
“I just want to give her a gift!” Hyunjin had protested weakly, but with how stern she was being, he felt like a scolded child rather than an all powerful ruler.
“I’m very sorry, Your Majesty, but you cannot see the Princess until the wedding ceremony.”
Hyunjin was practically pouting at that point, fiddling with the velvet black box in his hands, “Can I at least talk to her?” he asked, “I’ll slip it through the door.”
The maid gave him a weary look before relenting, “Fine. Wait here, Your Majesty.”
“Hyunjin?” you called out hesitantly from the other side of the door, his name no longer feeling foreign to your lips.
“How are you feeling?” Hyunjin asked, feeling the waves of anxiety calm just from hearing your voice. You couldn’t help but smile; even in this moment, where a typical king would already be in celebration with his friends, almost always in some sort of brothel, he still came to make sure you were alright.
“Nervous, but who wouldn’t be?” You chuckled, playing with the doorknob, and a part of you yearned to open the door just to get a look at Hyunjin’s face. The two of you have spent practically most hours of the day together for the last couple weeks, either dealing with foreign envoys sending their congratulations or revising the laws for your kingdom; it almost felt strange to not see him at all for the whole day.
You could hear shuffling from the other side before Hyunjin spoke uncertainly, “Oh, I have a gift for you.”
“Again?” A breathless laugh left your lips, “Hyunjin, you’ve already spent an unseemly amount of money on me these last few days!”
“I know, I know, but this one is special!” Hyunjin argued before his hand slipped through the crack, holding a black velvet box. You took it gingerly, still shaking your head in mild amusement as you opened the present, your jaw dropping.
“Hyunjin, this is…” your voice refused to work as you stared at the diamond necklace, individual gems lacing the front part of the chain, worth more than any of the jewelry your mother ever had, and certainly more than the ones in your possession that you’d buy from local jewelers to support their business.
“Do you like it?” Even without seeing him, you could hear the genuine eagerness in Hyunjin’s voice, and it warmed your heart in a way you didn’t know was possible, as if he had wrapped you up in fluffy blankets on a cold winter day.
You smiled, your fingers delicately brushing the silver chain, “It’s beautiful,” you murmured, before speaking a little louder in case Hyunjin didn’t hear you (he did), “It’s really beautiful, Hyunjin. Thank you.”
There was a beat of silence before Hyunjin spoke again, his voice softer than before, which made you lean closer to the door just to hear him. You could guess his purpose, to say something to you before the wedding and to keep it out of the ears of the nosy maids that were currently standing at the corner of your room, giggling and gossiping amongst themselves.
“I-I know that you never wanted this marriage.” Was that a stutter you heard? It couldn’t be.
Hyunjin cleared his throat before continuing, “I know, in some way, I forced you into this, and I apologize. I’ll do my very best to be a husband that is worthy of standing by your side.”
For a moment, you genuinely thought you were dreaming, the king’s words repeating in your head over and over and yet making no sense at all. Him being worthy of standing next to you? Who was the king here? Why was he lowering himself to your status?
“Hyunjin--” your hand was at the door, instinctively moving to push the door open so you could speak to him in person, but his reflex was just as fast, pushing back with his own hand and keeping the door shut.
“Don’t come out! You know it’s bad luck!” Hyunjin scolded you, his voice sounding slightly panicked.
You let out a sigh, wondering why everyone embraced so many of these superstitions, even him, “You’re right, the door stays closed,” you reassured him gently.
Hyunjin didn’t speak for a moment, and you almost thought he had left without a word when he began softly, “I know you didn’t want this marriage, but if your heart could have some room for me,” he swallowed, “any room at all, wear the necklace when you walk down the aisle.”
When you returned to the vanity, a dazed expression on your face as the maids giggled and continued to apply your makeup, you looked at your own appearance in the mirror, your hand gently brushing over the simple necklace that currently adorned your neck.
In accordance to the traditions of your kingdom, if your father was not alive to present you to your husband, it was expected of you to wear a gift from them as a symbol of their claim over you. The plain necklace with a single pearl charm in the center of it was the only jewelry you’d ever received from your father, and if you were being blatantly honest with yourself, you despised it.
Unconsciously, your other hand moved to rest atop the black velvet box now sitting on your vanity. Where your father’s jewlery felt like unwanted possession, you thought back to Hyunjin’s words.
“I’ll do my very best to be a husband that is worthy of standing by your side.”
Why did those words send your heart into rapid beating? Why did those words feel so freeing, hearing your husband-to-be proclaim before his vows with such intimacy, only for your ears?
It didn’t take more than two minutes to come to a decision. You knew the path you had to take, the one that would allow you to break from the past and the constant obligation you’ve always felt.
“Yuna.”
“Yes, Your Highness?” Your maid smiles, immediately standing to attention as you open the black box. The other maids gasped at the sight of such a priceless artifact before them.
“Help me replace my current necklace, please.”
v.
The wedding went without a hitch and you were officially the bride of the most powerful man on the continent. Even as the feast proceeded, your people utterly ecstatic that their beloved princess had been married off in such style, you found yourself playing with the ring that weighed down your fourth finger. It was just felt...foreign.
As the night came to a close, and even the most drunken partygoers were politely escorted out of the palace gates, you were ushered into your bedroom by your maids, who looked a little too eager to have anything good planned.
“What are you all giggling about?” you sighed as they gently combed out the flowers in your hair.
“It’s your first night with the king, Your Highness!” Yuna answered, massaging your hands gently, “We have to pretty you up!”
“Oh?” you raised your eyebrows at her in suspicion before lightly jabbing her side, “Are you saying that I’m not pretty already?”
Yuna fluttered her lashes innocently, “I didn’t say that, Your Highness,” Yeji and Ryujin hid their smiles and you only rolled your eyes, never finding it in you to be hard on any of them. The five maids have been by your side since you were young, and you were more than elated when Hyunjin had agreed to summon them back to the palace despite that they, more often than not, made you want to tear your hair out.
Like right now.
“I am not wearing that,” you shook your head, your voice dropping into a low growl. But one thing that always drove you a little insane, none of the girls were afraid of you.
Lia held up the lace sleepwear, smiling at you, “Hm? Why ever not?” She asked, as if the robe wasn’t practically sheer and leaving almost nothing to imagination.
“I’m dressing to go to bed!”
“Yes, going to bed with him, your new husband!” Chaeryeong laughed ushering you behind the divider, “Come on, you’re wearing that nightgown or we’ll tell His Majesty about the time you tried to climb the tower--”
“Fine! Demons, all of you,” you growled without any bite to it, and the only response were the laughter and giggles of your handmaidens.
Hyunjin walked towards the bedroom, still wearing his uniform from the ceremony. Every few steps, he’d glance at the ring on his fourth finger. It wasn’t anywhere near the most expensive piece of jewelry he owns, but you had chosen it for him. You, his newly wedded wife. It made him positively giddy just thinking about it, but he contained himself because he was a king, for goodness sakes.
The door to his bedroom opened as the maids excused themselves. He recognized them as your handmaidens, especially because you had personally went up to him to request--no, demand politely--that they be brought back to your side.
What was curious, though, was the way they were giggling amongst themselves, giggling that only grew when they spotted Hyunjin in the corridor. They gracefully curtsied at him before practically sprinting down the hall.
Hyunjin shook his head with a resigned smile as he opened the door to your now shared bedroom, “Your handmaidens were giggling nonstop as they walked out--”
The king’s voice completely failed to work for a solid minute as he gazed upon your figure, abashedly sitting on the edge of the bed. While he’d always thought you were beautiful, ever since the first, bloody meeting with your swords clashing, this was the first time he realized that you weren’t just beautiful, you were utterly divine.
Whatever self restraint he had, the secret affection he’d buried for so long, it burst out like a raging fire.
“Hyunjin--” your words were cut short as the man rushed forward, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips smashed against yours, taking the gasp of surprise right out of you.
It was unreal, the way you were being kissed, the way Hyunjin was kissing you. It was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, like a gust of wind was sweeping you off your feet. His lips were both gentle and insistent, tugging and giving to you in a way that gave you no choice but to let him in.
Your hands gripped at his uniform as Hyunjin hovered over you, his hands ghosting over your bare thighs as he gently guided you to lie down on the bed, never once pulling away from you. Hyunjin’s hands were roaming everywhere, cupping your face to touched the lace fabric on your waist.
His name fell out of your lips as he squeezed your thighs, his tongue coming to explore your mouth with a sort of urgency. It felt like the more you gave him, the more he took.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out as he finally pulled away for a moment to breathe, his lips inches away from yours. Glancing down, his hand trailed to your neck, leaving featherlight touches on the soft skin as he marveled at the way you looked all splayed out on the bed for him, “And that necklace, it looked stunning…” he trailed off as he began to work at your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin.
He was just so good. His hands knew exactly where to touch, where to be gentle. His lips knew when to be soft and when to be aggressive. As your hands instinctively moved to card through his soft black hair, a small part of you, a tiny speck of doubt in your mind festered. How many times has he done this to be so experienced? How many have been in the receiving end of his ceaseless praises and touches?
It was only a hint of doubt, and you tried to shove it within the depths of your mind. Hyunjin’s relationships before your marriage shouldn’t matter, and to be brutally honest, you didn’t hold yourself in high enough esteem to think that you’d be able to keep his interest for even more than a few days. As your mother had once said in scorn, you were more soldier than lady.
When Hyunjin’s lips trailed from your collarbones to just above your breasts, you began to squirm a little, the panic slowly seeking into your body. The king, enraptured by his actions, continued to travel lower and lower, and the anxiety in your chest only grew until it snapped as his hands slipped under your nightgown.
“H-Hyunjin—wait—stop, please stop—” you gasped out, frantically beginning to struggle and writhe beneath him. There wasn’t much of a fight, however, because the moment your panicked tone made it to Hyunjin’s ears, he backed away, completely getting off you and kneeling beside your breathless form, his eyes wide with an expression you’ve never seen on his face before.
Horror.
“I-I’m so sorry,” he choked out as his hands fluttered anxiously around you, debating whether or not to help you or not to touch you out all. In the end, his hands delicately rested on your shoulder as he helped you sit up. Stupid, why couldn’t he read the signs?
You shook your head as you began to shiver, the heated atmosphere from before now fading from your bones, “N-no, I’m sorry,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around your body as if to protect yourself. From him. It made him sick to his stomach.
“Don’t be sorry. It was my fault,” Hyunjin said firmly, and he grabbed one of his robes that were hanging somewhere in the bedroom, quickly returning to your side and throwing it over your shoulders, wrapping you up in clothing that actually covered you.
What had happened? Hyunjin knew you were enjoying it at the onset. He could feel you kissing back, getting swept away as your hands lightly tugged at his hair. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have went so far to the point where he lost control of his own desire. When did you start panicking?
“No, not at all, Your Majesty,” you spoke softly, tugging at the robe around your shoulders to wrap it tighter around your frame, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back a flinch as his title fell out of your lips. You were his wife, for god’s sake! You didn’t need to call him that.
“I’m just...I’m merely overreacting,” you continued, hugging your knees to your chest and looking smaller than he’d ever seen you, “I understand that it’s a queen’s duty to...produce an heir,” you dipped your head, avoiding his eyes, “And I know this is a rather outrageous request, but I don’t want this until there’s at least some sort of affection between us.”
Hyunjin took a moment to process your words before his eyes widened. Oh dear, you’ve got this all wrong. You truly didn’t know. You didn’t know how much thought he’d put into the gifts he sent you. You didn’t know the way he’d tossed and turned the night before the wedding, childishly giddy at the very thought of marrying you. You didn’t know and didn’t realize it at all.
But it was alright. He could tell from just one look at you that you weren’t ready. And that was alright. He would wait. He’d wait his whole lifetime for you.
“You aren’t overreacting,” Hyunjin said, his voice gentle as he moved to stroke your soft hair, “And you aren’t my queen just to produce an heir, you’re much more than that. I won’t ever push you until you’re ready.”
Your eyes widened at his words and your head whipped up to look at Hyunjin, who was now sitting on his legs on the bed in front of you, “B-but, what would people say?” you asked.
“We can pretend if it makes you uncomfortable, and if I hear any malicious rumors, I’ll put a stop to them,” Hyunjin answered, not an ounce of doubt in his words.
Despite your shaken state, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “How very terrifying, no wonder they call you the Ice King of the North,” this wasn’t the first time you’ve used that nickname on him, but it no longer held the malice it used to. Rather, there was a small playfulness to it, a gratitude for him being so understanding.
Hyunjin was happy to play along, anything to make you feel more at ease around him, “That’s a total farce,” he grumbled, “I never tortured soldiers for information, I just predicted their moves. I don’t need to stoop that low to win my battles.”
“Oh, you poor little one,” you said with mock pity, reaching up to pet his hair as if soothing a child.
“Little one?” Hyunjin’s lips curled into a smirk as he rounded on you like a predator stalking its prey, “Are you sure I’m the little one here?”
“Hyunjin,” you warned, although it was hard to fight the smile from appearing on your face as you scooted away from you, “Don’t you--Hyunjin!”
You let out a squeal as Hyunjin pounced on you, attacking mercilessly with tickles as you fought back with the same amount of vigor. It was no use, though; Hyunjin was broader and had more than a head over you in height.
Your hand managed to latch onto a pillow and you took it smacking the side of his face hard with the fluffy object. The tide was turned, and you managed to slither out from under him, hitting him as you laughed.
When you finally fell back on the bed, breathless and giggling, Hyunjin rolled over to you slowly. Cautiously, his hand wrapped around your waist, and to his utter surprise, you made no moves to push him away. Instead, you looked comfortable with the gesture, letting him pull you to his side gently.
“I’m glad it’s you.”
“What?” You looked up in surprise, feeling yourself snug against his chest as Hyunjin hummed, silently moving the covers up over your shoulders to keep you warm.
“I’m glad I married you,” Hyunjin murmured again, resting his head on yours.
You were silent for a long moment, his words ringing in his head. They were so gentle, so outrageously innocent for a man who you’d hated only a few weeks before. Slowly, your hand shifting, gently resting on his chest as you spoke softly, “I’m...glad it’s you, too.”
Hyunjin’s body tensed in surprise as if he wasn’t quite expecting you to parrot the words to him at all, and especially in that soft voice that only came out when you were showing your most vulnerable sides to him. His arm tightened around your waist as you closed your eyes, happily nestled in the embrace of your new husband.
interlude.
“Your Majesty. Your Majesty!” A servant waved his hand urgently as he rushed down the hallway.
Hyunjin stopped short in his conversation with one of his commanders, Minho, spinning on his heels to address the man, “Yes, what is it?”
“Here is the invitation list for Her Majesty’s coronation,” he said, handing Hyunjin a long piece of parchment paper. The king unrolls the document, scanning through the guest list quickly before rolling it back in place, “Do away with this list.”
The messenger gawked at his request, utterly dumbfounded, “Your Majesty?” He stammers, puzzled.
“This list only includes the most high ranking officials and lords of the kingdom,” Hyunjin handed the parchment back to the messenger, “I want the throne room opened to all.”
“All?” Hyunjin’s commander sputtered, finally interjecting into the conversation, “Your Majesty, that would be a huge risk to take regarding security! Anyone could potentially sneak in and--”
“My Queen is not the type to only care for the noblemen, but also the rest of our people. We’ve already discussed it in length. She wants the common people present at her coronation as well,” Hyunjin replied.
Minho bristled internally. It had only been a few weeks since the king had brought home his new bride. The fact that he had not consulted with any of his military and economic advisors was already outrageous, and what made it even worse was how obviously besotted with her he was.
Minho disliked her, along with the rest of the nobles. She was foreign blood and she was a technical prisoner of war. She also seemed to prioritize the commoners more than the people that actually paid for this monarchy. She threw a wrench in their plans, and they all hated her.
“Commander? Do you have anything to say in your defense?” The king’s icy tone broke into the man’s thoughts, Hyunjin’s eyebrow raised expectantly.
It was only too bad that the king protected the queen almost more than he did his own life.
“Nothing, Your Majesty. You are right, of course,” The experienced commander knew when to show his white flag, dipping his head in agreement. There was no point in angering his king over something as trivial as this.
Hyunjin obviously didn’t buy his saccharine sweetness, but he wasn’t petty enough to point it out either, “Speaking of the Queen,” he turned to the messenger, “would you happen to know where she is right now? She had wandered off to explore the palace after our military meeting adjourned.”
“Ah,” the poor boy blushed, feeling quite suddenly put on the spot as he answered, “I believe I saw her wandering into the garden, Your Majesty.”
The king could not hide a fond smile from flitting across his face in a brief moment of weakness, “I see, thank you,” he nodded at the boy, and the messenger was more than happy to excuse himself from Hyunjin’s presence. Finally left alone with the commander, Hyunjin turned to him smoothly, “Continuing our previous conversation, I will not enforce a toll between the borders of mine and the Queen’s kingdom. If you don’t have anything else to discuss, you are excused.”
Ah, it’s always the Queen, the Queen, the Queen. Minho thought it was nothing short of repulsive at how only the name of the woman would have his king turning over and showing his belly like an excited kitten. Gritting his teeth, he bowed, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
If this goes on any further, Minho might have to take matters into his own hands. But, for the moment, he didn’t need to get his hands dirty yet. A smile quirked up on his face as he mused about certain...possibilities. Maybe, with the coronation open to all, he wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.
vii.
To be honest, when Hyunjin was growing up, he had believed himself incapable of love. When his father had died early on in his life, he was raised by a mother that knew nothing but greed and a thirst for power. She controlled him like a puppet on strings, using her own son as a vessel for her own agendas. It had taken all of Hyunjin’s effort to finally break free from his mother’s clutches, and when he emerged into the world as a young king, he realized that he was well and truly destined to be alone.
But as he walked around the royal gardens, in search of his wife, his heart making a light skip at the mere prospect of seeing her, he wonder if this was what love was supposed to feel like. And as he stopped short, seeing the back of a familiar woman sitting on the bank of a small pond, her simple, yet elegant dress splayed out gracefully on the ground, he knew this was exactly what love was supposed to feel like.
Smiling to himself, the king walked over to you, shedding his uniform jacket and gently draping it over your small form, “Spending time with the bunnies again?”
You barely bat an eyelash as the familiar weight of Hyunjin’s coat fell upon your shoulders, holding onto it to keep warm as you smiled up at him, “Didn’t Commander Lee want to speak with you alone? What are you doing out here?”
“The conversation was more trivial than I’d expected, so I cut it short,” Hyunjin waved off your worries, sitting down on the grass beside you. Suddenly to his right, two small, cream colored bunnies jump out from the bushes, bounding over to you, already familiar with your presence since you’ve spent much of your free time here.
“Are you sure you should be making your displeasure so obvious? You know we rely on their military strength,” you spoke as you gently reached out to one of the bunnies, tickling its nose with your finger, a light frown on your face as you looked at Hyunjin.
“I’ve made it very clear what I expect from them, and yet they keep disobeying me,” Hyunjin muttered, angrily ripping at the grass to vent his obvious frustrations.
As you studied Hyunjin’s face, you couldn’t help but sense that there was more to his anger at his commanders than he was letting on, “There’s something else, isn’t there?” you approached him cautiously.
Hyunjin looked up at you, surprised, “What do you mean?” One of the bunnies hesitantly bounded over to him, and the king awkwardly pet them, trying his best to be gentle, especially after you’d given him a big scolding about being to aggressive with them a few weeks ago.
“You’re not just angry because they question your policies,” you explained, your eyebrows furrowed in gentle concern, “I mean, I question you all the time, and we’ve only been married for a few weeks.”
The king couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “But it’s different when it’s you.”
“Why? Because we’re married?” you laughed at the sheer cheesiness of the statement, giggling as Hyunjin nuzzled his face into your shoulder playfully.
“What else could it be, darling?” the name fell out of his lips so naturally, he almost had to do a double take with how close he was to saying it like he genuinely meant it, and not just as a lighthearted joke between the two of you.
Instead of pushing him away, you smiled, reaching to gently ruffle his hair, “Don’t avoid the question,” you murmured softly, “what’s got you all worked up?”
Hyunjin debated for a moment before sighing. He could never refuse you of anything, “I don’t like how they treat you,” he said, his voice flat, “I don’t like the way they glower at you when they think you don’t notice, the way they keep trying to subtly tell me to find another wife.”
There was a moment of silence as you stated at him, almost dumbfounded. Then, to Hyunjin’s utter surprise, your lips curled into an amused smile, “That's it?”
Oh, the utter nerve of you! Hyunjin would feel offended if it weren't for the fact that he was angry for your sake in the first place, “That's it?” He repeated in disbelief, “Aren't you annoyed at all? They dislike you for no reason other than the fact that you're not one of them. Doesn't that make you even a little angry?”
“Why should it?” You merely shrugged your shoulders, smiling down at the bunny that was burrowing into your stomach for warmth, “Their twisted thinking is not my responsibility to change. If they're determined to hate me, no amount of money, fear or kindness will change that.”
It was quite amazing, seeing you so nonchalant. Hyunjin had done his best to help you adjust to the new customs, the colder weather, everything that might potentially pull you out of your comfort zone, but you took everything with such grace, such an aura of indifference. It almost turned him on every time he saw you brush off Minho’s jagged comments about your appearance, your background, your parent's crimes with a simple quip in return that would turn the commander's face a shade of deep red.
“You’re unreal,” The words fell off of Hyunjin’s lips before he could even process them. You're unreal? Hwang Hyunjin, you're supposed to be a notoriously smooth talker, a true diplomat!
The look on your face showed your surprise at his sudden comment as you asked almost worriedly, “What’s going on with you today?”
“What do you mean?” Hyunjin cleared his throat, desperate to salvage this rather awkward conversation.
“Well, you seem more emotionally charged than normal,” you commented, “Did something happen?” A mischievous sparkle appeared in your eyes, “Someone catch your eye?”
“Of course. You.”
“Flattery won't make me go easy on you during our sparring practice,” you hummed absently, all of your attention devoted to the bunny in your lap as you tickled its nose with your gentle finger, cooing.
Hyunjin couldn’t help but pout as his advances were all being brushed away, and he felt a little like a shy prince courting a lady for the first time. He glanced at the bunny with an expression akin to mild disdain, “You seem to play favorites, My Queen.”
You chuckled, lifting the small creature into your hands as it curiously sniffed at you, “Well, Sungie enjoys my company, too, more so than the others.”
“Sungie?” Hyunjin repeated the name. He disliked it, mentally apologizing to whoever he’d meet in the future that had the unfortunate fate of being named Sungie.
His blood boiled in a way that a petulant child’s would as he watched you giggle, pressing a light kiss to the bunny’s nose. Wonderful. Not only was this Sungie stealing your attention, he was stealing your kisses, too. When was the last time you kissed him?
Far too long ago.
Hyunjin sighed, and he gave up on his attempts to steal your attention, opting to tell you the more important news, “Your coronation is confirmed for next week.”
Your entire body froze, and you placed Sungie back into your lap, “That’s early,” you responded, and Hyunjin didn’t miss the thin layer of tension in your voice, the only sign that becoming the queen of two kingdoms was more daunting to you than you like to show, “I thought you said the nobles would never agree to it.”
“I think they grew tired of opposing you, since it’s so goddamn hard,” Hyunjin said, and your lips quirked into a wry smile, unconsciously driving him to do the same, “The head of staff gave me the normal list of the same, boring rich military men, but I told him to change it according to what we’d discussed.”
You didn’t speak for a long moment, your eyes drifting off into the distance as if thinking very carefully until his name fell out of your lips, “Hyunjin.”
“Yes?” The king tilted his head towards you inquisitively.
“Aren’t you tired of me telling you what to do?” You asked, meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression on your face, “You married me, the princess of a defeated kingdom, and I prance around making my own rules and then now uprooting your traditions. Aren’t you annoyed at least?”
Hyunjin only shrugged, “I didn’t chose you out of all people to be my queen just for you to stay silent,” he answered before letting out a fond chuckle, “And besides, you never tell me what to do. You just come in with a strong suggestion and we either argue about it civilly or we duel it out. That’s called council, and it’s exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”
For the first time, you stared at Hyunjin in a new light. Was it just because of his words, or was your heart fluttering because of him? Hyunjin didn’t seem to notice how much his words meant to you, beginning to click his tongue sweetly at one of the nearby bunnies, petting their soft fur. Strange, he didn’t seem this attractive the few times he’d done this before.
“Are you alright?” The man in your thoughts interrupted your daydreaming, “You’ve gone all quiet.”
You could only hope that the warmth on your cheeks didn’t show, “I’m alright,” you replied quickly, diverting your attention to Sungie, who had woken up, trying to burrow himself in your lap, “Just thinking about the coronation.”
“I see. Are you excited?”
“Excited?” You repeated with a chuckle, “I can’t say I’m dreading it, but would anyone be excited to carry the weight of two kingdoms on their shoulders?”
“Not everyone thinks about ruling in that way,” Hyunjin reasoned, reaching for one of the bunnies.
You shrugged, “Maybe, but I don’t want to treat my power like something I can carelessly wield--ah, not that aggressively!” Your eyes widened as you grabbed Hyunjin’s wrist when you noticed him reach for one of the bunnies without letting it come to him.
“Why? I was going slow!” Hyunjin spoke defensively, all of his senses heightened at the feeling of your small yet firm grip around his wrist. Cute, your hand didn’t even completely wrap around his.
“Wait for him to come to you,” you instructed him, guiding his hand forward in the right movements to beckon some of the bunnies over to him. All your attention was diverted to helping him, and yet, Hyunjin could not take his eyes off your face, your perfect features, the kindness in your eyes, and those perfectly kissable lips.
He couldn’t wait until the day that a golden crown would adorn your hair, and you would sit in the throne beside him, a spot that no one else but you were worthy of.
viii.
“Are you nervous?”
“Do you want me to lie to you and say that I’m not?” You replied from where you were standing in front of the full length mirror, Yeji and Ryujin putting on the last few accessories of your coronation dress. Per your request, the gown was bold, dark red chiffon falling to the ground with accents of gold plated metal on your shoulder plates. It was a statement, a statement that would tell Hyunjin’s kingdom that you were no prisoner, and a statement that would tell your own kingdom that you were still their princess in heart and soul.
Hyunjin leaned against the doorframe, watching you get ready and conversing with you. For a brief moment, you wondered if he’d sensed your nerves that morning, and had come to bother you only to get your mind off of the main event.
You stared at your own reflection, unwavering. But yet, the woman that stared back at you, the woman who was about to be crowned the queen of two powerful kingdoms, felt unfamiliar. This, this powerful woman, she didn’t feel like you. What good have you ever done with your power? What good will you ever do with your new power?
“Yeji, Ryujin, leave us,” Hyunjin suddenly spoke up, although not unkindly. The two handmaidens slipped their hands away from their work, having only to check the corset straps before they were done with you.
When they left the room, you watched silently in the mirror as Hyunjin pushed off from the doorframe and made his way towards you. The king didn’t seem to be in a rush to speak either, and he took the corset straps delicately in his hands before securing the corset.
“I’m not ready,” Hyunjin said softly as he concentrated on his task, “That was the only thought running through my head on the day of my coronation.”
You didn’t speak, taking in the weight of his words, “I remember,” you answered softly, and as you watched Hyunjin’s brow furrow in concentration as he checked your corset, you couldn’t help but notice how intimate the moment was. “You were only fifteen when the former king passed away.”
“I was groomed for this role all my life,” Hyunjin hummed, slipping his finger into a few of the corset layers to loosen it just a little so you could breathe easier, “Ever since I was born, every waking moment was spent preparing me to be king, and yet, when I stood up there, I never felt more like an imposter than at that moment.”
It was surprising, hearing that Hyunjin, such a cool, levelheaded monarch even at his young age didn’t feel like he belonged on that throne, even though he of all people deserved to sit in it. You didn’t think that he did before, but after seeing him, spending every day supporting him, you realized that, beneath his disarming smile, his heart was gentle and he cared oh so much.
“My Queen,” your eyes widened as you felt Hyunjin take your hands in his, and you turned to face him, admiring the beautiful features that adorned his face. You could count his eyelashes, gazing into the plethora of hazel brown shades in his soft eyes, his soft, plump lips looking so kissable.
Hyunjin held your hands delicately, rubbing his thumbs against the back of them in an effort to soothe your worries, “You will be the most beloved Queen that the kingdom has ever had,” he murmured, “It might not be immediate, and it might not be in the next week, but there’s no one else that is worthy of the title.”
“When will I feel that way?” You swallowed as you looked into his eyes, letting your vulnerability show, “When will I ever feel that I’m ready?”
The king smiled at the question, squeezing your hands, “You won’t,” he said, an almost bitter taste to his words, “You will never stop second guessing yourself, no matter how long you wear that crown,” Hyunjin didn’t mince his words, knowing that you didn’t need shallow reassurance right now. You needed the truth.
“But, you can’t stop just because you don’t believe you’re ready,” he continued, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, “Just know, you’re enough. You will always be enough.”
Goddamnit, Hyunjin was making it very hard for you not to fall in love with him.
You took a deep breath, grounding yourself as you felt the tension leave your shoulders, “Feel better?” Hyunjin gave you an encouraging smile, seeing you that you looked more like your usual self.
“Much,” you smiled up at him, reaching a gentle hand up to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face.
An hour later, you knelt before Hyunjin on the velvet carpet your head dipped down as the king recited the vows, the vows in which you were taking as the new queen. The pews were filled to the brim with people of all kinds, merchants, farmers, blacksmiths, maids, everyone eagerly trying to get a glimpse of you, your dress, your appearance.
You repeated the vows, and with the dumb stroke of luck, your nerves refused to get the best of you, and you managed to go through the three-page long speech without any major slips. The crowd let out gasps of wonder as the crown, a marvelous artifact in itself with its gold base, its red rubies and diamond embellishments, was taken off its safe place on a red cushion. And with the gentlest of touches, Hyunjin slipped the crown atop your head as you looked down at the ground beneath his feet. As you lifted your head, you could’ve sworn Hyunjin had given you the most fleeting of winks, but you felt an ease flood through your jittery bones.
He stretched out his hand to you, gentle and inviting, and you slipped your hand in his, letting him help you up. Subconsciously, you held back the sudden urge to lean forward and press your lips against his. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin was restraining himself from doing just that.
As the two of you turned to face the adoring crowd, Hyunjin called out in a booming voice, “Long live the Queen!”
The sentiment carried on and on, echoing in the halls as you held Hyunjin’s hand tightly. You could feel the glower on the faces on the nobles, glaring at you with constrained hatred, but you could care less. The people wanted you, accepted you as their queen, and that was more than enough for you.
Smiling up at Hyunjin, feeling relief flood through your bones, the two of you were filled with glee as the cup bearer came out with the two glasses of wine to complete the ceremony, the unification of the king and queen.
“Want to give them something to remember?” Hyunjin murmured in your ear, taking his own glass.
“And how do we do that?” You smiled, raising the glass of red wine to him gracefully.
The king’s eyes sparkled with a mischief that only appeared when he was truly happy, when he was utterly content, and one of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you snug against him. The other, holding the wine glass in hand, looped around yours as the people began to clamor excitedly at the spectacle, “Like this, obviously.”
The close proximity made you blush, and you stared at Hyunjin, your heart pounding.
“What’s wrong?” He teased you, leaning closer, “Too shy?”
No, it wasn’t that, you thought as the two of you linked arms, getting ready to drink the wine together. All the moments your heart had fluttered, all the moments you felt as if time stood still whenever he held your hand, it all pieced together like a puzzle that was meant for only you to solve.
Ah, you really did love Hwang Hyunjin.
Tipping the glass upward, you caught sight of a small commotion in the pews behind Hyunjin. It sounded different from the excited squeals and gasps of the rest of the crowd at you and Hyunjin’s show of affection. It sounded almost like…
A man burst out from the seats, jumping over the rows as people screamed in terror and tried their best to get out of harms’ way. In that moment, you assumed he was here to attack you, especially with the manic look in his eyes and the razor sharp knife gripped in his hand. Hyunjin had warned you, after all, that not everyone in his kingdom was pleased that he’d married a princess from a foreign land they were at war with.
But he wasn’t aiming at you. He was aiming at Hyunjin.
Out of pure hatred and craze, he reached the two of you, slipping out of the guards’ grasp and advancing towards Hyunjin, his knife ready to sink into his heart. There wasn’t a moment left for hesitation, and in that split second, you lashed out, standing in front of Hyunjin and intercepted the knife with your hand.
Time stood still as your own life blood trickled down your arm, the horrified gasps of the crowd became irrelevant, and you finally got a good look of who was trying to kill your husband. Your eyes widened, and from the distant past, you recognized the man.
“Y/N!” Hyunjin’s voice broke you from your moment of epiphany, and you realized that the guards were already onto him, even as you gripped the knife harder, digging it further into your palm as the attacker struggled to pull it out.
“Wait,” you grit your teeth at the pain, glaring at the guards and tilting your head. Reluctantly, they pulled away from the man, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of watching this random person, this crazed attacker, hurt their newly crowned queen.
“Y/N--”
“I said, wait.”
Even Hyunjin froze at your tone, and the crowd died down, their earlier cries turning into conspiratorial whispers. What was the Queen doing? Has she gone mad? Is she ordering the King around?
Ignoring the commotion, the obvious stain that was now forming in your reputation, you looked the man straight in the eye and asked softly, “You’re...you’re one of my soldiers from the war, aren’t you?”
The man’s jaw went slack, utterly dumbfounded that his commander, and now his new queen had remembered him, a lowly foot soldier that lagged behind in the last regiments, “Your Majesty,” he stuttered over his own words. In his eyes, there was no anger left, only horror at what he had done, what he could’ve done, “I didn’t mean to--I only wanted some form of satisfaction.”
“I know,” you answered softly, loosening your grip on the knife as you noticed that his earlier resolve was crumbling. The man sank to his knees before you, and to the sheer horror of the noblemen in the crowd, you did the same for him, “I know. But this isn’t the way to achieve it.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y-your Majesty--” At last, the man dropped the knife and you let go, allowing the bloodied weapon to clatter to the floor. You ignored the rest of the world, you ignored the blood flowing freely from your wound, and you leaned forward, murmuring the words that you always uttered to your soldiers before every battle.
“Do you trust me?”
The man hesitated for a moment before answering softly, but without doubt, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
You smiled, “Then I will rebuild our kingdom in a way that will make you proud. I swear it.”
Knowing that your job was done, you backed away, and the man allowed the guards to take him away without any resistance. Then, from your right, you could hear Minho snicker under his breath, covering their mouths with mock politeness, and your face burned.
“Some queen she is.”
Despite the walls that you put up to hide your fears, your anxieties, you were only human, and you avoided the gaze of the crowd, knowing what they must think. A lowly queen that would bow before her own subjects, make promises to them rather than keeping her head high and mighty.
You didn’t regret what you did for a moment, but you knew how terrible this must look, and how awfully this might impact Hyunjin.
The sound of soft clapping made your ear twitch. Then, it grew louder, it grew into cheers, it grew into clamoring, until by the end, the hall was filled with the excited sounds of the people, drowning out the mocking laughter of the noblemen. You stared out into the crowd in dumbfounded awe as the roaring chant reverberated in your ears.
“Long live the Queen!”
ix.
“Ow!”
You let out a hiss of pain as you sat in your nightgown by the vanity, your injured hand outstretched so it could be treated properly.
Ryujin clicked her tongue in mild annoyance, “Hurts, right? Maybe you should remember that the next time you grab a blade with your bare hands!” She snapped as she dabbed at the cut with a purple salve that the doctor had given you.
Glancing at her, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “You get so mad when you’re worried.”
“Who says I’m worried?” Ryujin scoffed, but both of you knew she was playing a bluff. Of course she worried, she worried the most out of all of your handmaidens, only hiding it with her brash attitude.
A soft creak of the door alerted the both of you, and Ryujin was halfway out of her seat already to berate whoever was walking in without knocking when she froze, immediately dipping her head respectfully as Hyunjin stepped into the room.
You averted your eyes instantly, finding some very intricate patterns on the marbled floor as you refused to look at him. Hyunjin was the only person you haven’t spoken to since the coronation early that day, and there was no way he wouldn’t be angry.
Hyunjin raised a brow, noting your actions the moment he walked in. If there was one thing you always did, even since the first meeting, it was to look straight into his eyes. You were probably the first to do it with such vigor, staring back at him as if practically daring him to challenge you. It was hard not to notice when you suddenly began to look away.
“Ryujin, please fetch us some tea, if you will,” Hyunjin spoke lightly as he walked over to the vanity, standing beside the two of you.
Your maid glanced at you, and you gave her a weak smile, lifting your unharmed hand to rest on hers, “It’s alright. I can finish bandaging it, really.”
“Fine,” Ryujin stood up after a moment, brushing off her dress, “you better do it right. Don’t forget that time you refused to clean the cut on your leg after sword practice and the doctor threatened to chop your limb off when it got all gross and infected,” you could only stare at her back, utterly betrayed as she skipped off to do as the king commanded.
As the door shut behind her, you were hyper aware that it was only you and Hyunjin in the room, and the silence was more torturous than anything you’d ever experienced. Keeping your head down, you heard as Hyunjin took Ryujin’s earlier seat.
“Here,” you flinched a little as you saw his hand outstretched, his palm facing upwards.
“I’m...sorry…?”
“Your hand, please,” Hyunjin sighed, wanting more than anything to take your hand himself and bandage it as tightly as possible, but he’d wait. He’d always wait.
Hesitantly, you extended your hand, resting it on his with your palm facing up, giving him a clear view of the rather ghastly cut, which went deeper than he’d assumed earlier. With delicate fingers, he scooped up a dollop of the salve before gently applying it. You immediately recoiled at the sting, but Hyunjin gripped your hand tightly.
“Keep still,” he said firmly, focusing all his attention on treating your cut. You glanced at the way his fingers gently pressed against your palm, the way he handled you with such care, care that you’ve never experienced before, and slowly, the guilt the coiled in your stomach began to crawl up and out of your throat.
“Hyunjin, I’m--”
“Why did you do that?”
His voice was tight as he interrupted you, reaching over to the vanity table and grabbing the roll of gauze while he waited for your answer. You didn’t speak for a long moment because--if you were being completely honest--you weren’t sure what came over you at that moment.
“He was a soldier in my army during the war,” you explained cautiously as Hyunjin began to wrap the bandages around your hand, “He was obviously more desperate than malicious, and–”
“That’s not what I meant,” Hyunjin’s patience finally snapped as he tied the bandage tightly, causing you to let out a wince. You finally looked at his face out of confusion, and he gripped your wrist, holding up your injured hand.
“Why did you do this?” He clenched his jaw as everything that he'd bottled inside since the coronation spilled out of his lips, and he stared into your eyes with such an intensity, it felt as if you were being consumed by his desperation, “The blade could've been rusted, poisoned, anything! What if you ended up having to amputate your whole hand just because of this? What if you died? Did you even think about yourself for a moment?”
“I didn't,” you said softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you confessed, “I wasn't thinking about myself at all, alright?”
Hyunjin looked taken aback, “Then what were you thinking?” He asked, his voice still hard as he clutched your hand in his, “What on earth were you thinking about that could possibly make you risk your own life--”
“I was thinking about you!” You finally blurt out, looking down at your lap, too ashamed to even look him in the eye as your voice grew weak, “All I could think about was you, you getting hurt, and I realized that I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
A tense silence filled the room as you waited for Hyunjin to snap, to scoff at your weakness, to realize that you weren’t as strong as he once imagined you to be.
Your eyes widened when you felt gentle fingers tilt up your chin, guiding you to look up at Hyunjin. To your surprise, he looked almost pained as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Don’t say that.”
Confused, you let Hyunjin caress your soft cheeks, seeing that he looked almost desperate to touch you, “Say what?” You probed gently, reaching to rest your fingers on the back of his hand.
“That you don’t want to lose me. Don’t say things that m-make me think you love me,” Hyunjin’s voice sounded so utterly weak, and he studied your face as if you were the most previous jewel in the world. Did he always stare at you like that?
You swallowed nervously before asking softly, “What if I do love you?”
The reaction was instantaneous. Hyunjin closed the distance between your lips, smashing his against yours with so much emotion and desire that you were almost dizzy. He rested his hand on the nape of your neck, gently brushing your soft locks off of your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. This time, there wasn’t an ounce of resistance in your body. All you wanted to do was to let him in, let him sweep you off your feet and hold you close.
Hyunjin shifted, slipping an arm around your waist, and he easily lifted you in his arms, carrying you to the bed without once pulling away from the intoxicating feeling of your soft lips. Oh, how he missed them, how he’d dreamed of them for nights on end, not one dream as perfect as the reality.
“I love you,” he murmured as his lips trailed down from your cheeks to your jaw and all the way to the soft skin of your neck, “I loved you for so long.”
Even in your blissful state, you managed to grasp the meaning of his words and you choked out between his frantic kisses, “H-how long?”
“Since the wedding, I’ve known that you were going to my one and only, my one true love,” Hyunjin said softly before pulling away. He gazed down at your state, both of your hands on either side of your head, your hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you. You looked like a goddess, and he’d spend every night thanking the gods that you were his.
“I never thought--I never even imagined,” Hyunjin rambled on as he dived for your neck, sucking gently as you let out a soft noise at the sensation. It almost drove him mad, “I never even dreamed that you would say yes, much less accept me at all--”
“It’s true,” you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers reached up, carding gently through his hair, “It didn’t happen overnight, but now I realize. I love you.”
Hyunjin let out a groan at your words as they resonated in his heart, causing it to pound uncontrollably. He pulled away just for moment, his lips hovering over yours as his hands trailed down your sides cautiously, “I love you too, my Queen. So much,” he said, pecking your lips.
You couldn’t help but smile, chuckling softly as you looked up at him, “Your Queen,” you repeated the title, finding that you loved it very much.
“Well, you are,” Hyunjin smiled in return, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before leaning down again, pressing his lips again yours as he mumbled, “my beautiful queen. The love of my life.”
Blushing, you threaded your fingers through his hair as he deepened the kiss, sucking and nibbling at your lips, causing you to giggle. Nothing felt rushed, nothing felt like one side was trying quickly to quench their desperation. It was just love, contentment, the purest form of peace.
Eventually, Hyunjin’s hands made it down to your legs, ghosting over your skin as he slipped a hand under your nightgown, freezing as he made it to your upper thigh, “Tell me if you want to stop,” he whispered, pecking your cheek.
You stared up at him, full of love and adoration as you brushed his long black hair away from his face, “I don’t ever want you to stop,” you replied with a gentle smile, and Hyunjin never denied you of anything. He dipped down, his hands playing with the hem of your gown as the two of you finally surrendered to each other, letting the world slip away until the only thing that mattered to you was Hyunjin, and the only thing that mattered to Hyunjin was you. Always you.
Ryujin never came back with your tea, having decided to leave the two of you alone when she’d first turned into the corridor. A smug smile curled on her face, and she rushed off to tell the other handmaidens that they owe her ten gold coins.
epilogue.
You were awoken with gentle lips caressing your cheek, fingers lightly dancing over your bare waist. Mumbling softly, your eyes fluttered open and your gaze fell upon Hwang Hyunjin, who was resting on his elbow as he looked down at your previously sleeping figure with nothing but pure love in his expression.
“Morning,” you smiled sleepily, giggling as Hyunjin leaned down, nuzzling his face against your cheek.
“Sleep well?” He asked, his voice scratchy from just waking up. Even so, he couldn’t seem to get enough of you, running his hand up and down your side as his lips trailed from your own lips to your cheeks to your neck.
You hummed in response, playing lightly with his hair as you looked at the sunlight spilling into the window, signaling a new day, “I don’t think we did a lot of sleep, though,” you commented, smiling when Hyunjin pulled away, pouting at you.
“Can’t you let me be romantic just once?” He whined a little as he kissed down your body, kissing your shoulder, your collarbones, your chest, trailing down until he stopped at the soft skin of your tummy.
You giggled as he paused, squirming as he drew circles with his fingers on the skin before pressing a long, gentle kiss to it, “Mm...I hope you’re pregnant…”
“Hyunjin!”
“What?” Hyunjin laughed as he dodged your light swats of indignance, crawling back up to pull you into his chest, “We’d have our little heir, and it would get those good for nothing nobles off your back,” his voice held more bite as his jaw clenched.
You placed a hand on his chest, drawing soothing circles, “Don’t worry about them,” you murmured softly, looking up into Hyunjin’s eyes, “Just for today, just this once, let’s not worry about them at all.”
Hyunjin smiled, pulling you closer as his lips brushed yours.
“I don’t have a problem with that at all.”
fin.
~
a/n: a sincere thank you to anyone who made it this far ;;_;;
#inkidz#districtninewriters#stray kids scenarios#stray kids drabbles#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines#hwang hyunjin imagine#hwang hyunjin scenarios#hwang hyunjin blurbs#skz oneshots#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz blurbs#my fics#skz x reader#skz x y/n#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#stray kids x reader
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Chapter One (x)
“Lower your swords,” Queen Eloana commanded, her hair shining a glossy onyx in the sun as she sank onto one knee. The raw emotion pouring out of her seeped into the temple floors of the Chamber of Nyktos, bitter and hot, tasting of anguish and a helpless sort of anger. It stretched out toward me, needling my skin and brushing against this…primal thing inside me. “And bow before the…before the last descendent of the most ancient ones. She who carries the blood of the King of Gods within her. Bow before your new Queen.”
The blood of the King of Gods? Your new Queen? None of that made sense. Not her words or when she had removed her crown.
A too-thin breath scorched my throat as I looked at the man standing beside the Queen of Atlantia. The crown was still upon the King’s golden-haired head, but the bones had remained a bleached white. Nothing like the gleaming, gilded one the Queen had placed at the feet of the statue of Nyktos. My gaze skipped over the terrible, broken things scattered about the once pristine, white floors. I’d done that to them, adding their blood to what had fallen from the sky, filling the thin fissures in the marble. I didn’t look at that or anyone else—every part of my being focused on him.
He remained on one knee, staring up at me from between the vee of the swords he’d crossed over his chest. His damp hair, blue-black in the Atlantian sunlight, curled against the sandy-hued skin of his forehead. Red streaked those high, angular cheekbones, the proud curve of his jaw, and ran down lips that had once shattered my heart. Lips that had pieced those broken shards back together with the truth. Bright, golden eyes locked with mine, and even bowed before me, so motionless I wasn’t sure he breathed, he still reminded me of one of the wild and strikingly beautiful cave cats I’d once seen caged in Queen Ileana’s palace as a child.
He had been many things to me. A stranger in a dimly lit room who’d been my first kiss. A guard who had sworn to lay down his life for mine. A friend who had looked beyond the veil of the Maiden to truly see me underneath, who’d handed me a sword to protect myself instead of forcing me into a gilded cage. A legend cloaked in darkness and nightmares that had plotted to betray me. A Prince of a kingdom believed to have been lost to time and war, who had suffered unimaginable horrors and yet managed to find the pieces of who he used to be. A brother who would do anything, commit any deed to save his family. His people. A man who bared his soul and stripped open his heart to me—and only me.
My first.
My guard.
My friend.
My betrayer.
My partner.
My husband.
My heartmate.
My everything.
Casteel Da’Neer bowed before me and stared up at me as if I were the only person in the entire kingdom. I didn’t need to concentrate like before to know what he was feeling. Everything he felt was wide-open to me. His emotions were a kaleidoscope of ever-shifting tastes—cool and tart, heavy and spicy, and sweet like chocolate-dipped berries. Those unyieldingly firm and unrelentingly tender lips parted, revealing just the hint of sharp fangs.
“My Queen,” he breathed, and those two smoky words soothed my skin. The lilt of his voice quelled the ancient thing inside me that wanted to take the anger and the fear radiating from all the others and twist it, turn it back, truly give them something to fear, and add to the shattered things thrown about the floor. One side of his lips curled up, and a deep dimple appeared in his right cheek.
Dizzy with relief at the sight of that infuriatingly stupid—and adorable—dimple, my entire body shuddered. I feared that when he saw what I’d done, he’d be afraid. And I couldn’t blame him for that. What I’d done should terrify anyone, but not Casteel. The heat that turned his eyes the color of warmed honey told me that fear was very much the furthest thing from his mind. Which was also a little disturbing. But he was the Dark One, whether he liked being called that or not.
Some of the shock faded, and the pounding adrenaline eased. And when it left, I realized I hurt. My shoulder and the side of my head throbbed. The left side of my face felt puffy, and that had nothing to do with the old scars there. A dull ache pulsed in my legs and arms, and my body felt funny, as if my knees were weakening. I swayed in the warm, salty breeze—
Casteel rose quickly, and I shouldn’t have been surprised by how fast he moved, but I still was. In a heartbeat, he’d gone from kneeling to standing, a foot closer to me, and several things happened at once.
The men and women behind Casteel’s parents, the ones wearing the same white tunics and loose pants of those lying on the floor, also moved. Light reflected off the golden armbands adorning their biceps as they lifted their swords, shifting closer to Casteel’s parents, protecting them. Some reached for crossbows strapped to their backs. They had to be guards of some sort.
A sudden growl of warning came from the largest wolven I’d ever seen. Kieran and Vonetta’s father stood to my right. Jasper had officiated the marriage between Casteel and me in Spessa’s End. He’d been there when Nyktos showed his approval by briefly turning day to night. But now, the steel-hued wolven’s lips peeled back, baring teeth that could tear through flesh and break bone. He was loyal to Casteel, and yet instinct told me that it wasn’t just the guards he warned.
Another snarl came from my left. In the shadows of the blood tree that had sprouted from where my blood had fallen and grown to a massive height within seconds, a fawn-colored wolven crept into my line of sight, head dipped low, and wintery blue eyes iridescent. Kieran. He stared down Casteel. I didn’t understand why either of them would behave this way toward the Prince, but especially Kieran. He had been bonded to Casteel from birth, meant to obey and protect him at all costs. But he was more than a bonded wolven to Casteel. They were brothers, if not by blood then by friendship, and I knew they loved each other.
Right now, nothing about the way Kieran’s ears were pinned back was loving.
Unease skipped its way through me as Kieran sank down, the sleek muscles of his legs tensing as he prepared to attack…Casteel.
My stomach plummeted. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. “No,” I rasped, my voice hoarse and barely recognizable, even to my ears.
Kieran didn’t appear to hear me or care. If he had been acting normally, I would’ve just assumed he was attempting to ignore me, but this was different. He was different. His eyes were brighter than I ever remembered seeing, and they weren’t right because they…they weren’t just blue now. His pupils glowed silvery-white, an aura that seeped out in wispy tendrils across the blue. My head jerked to Jasper. His eyes had changed, too. I’d seen that strange light before. It had been what my skin had done when I healed Beckett’s broken legs—the same silvery glow that had radiated from me minutes earlier.
Icy bursts of surprise raced through Casteel as he eyed the wolven, and then I felt…relief radiate from him.
“You all knew.” Casteel’s voice filled with awe, something no one standing behind him felt. Even the easy grin was absent from the auburn-haired Atlantian. Emil looked at us with wide eyes, broadcasting a healthy dose of fear, as did Naill, who had always appeared utterly unfazed by everything—even when he’d been outnumbered in battle.
Casteel slowly sheathed his swords at his sides. Hands empty, he kept them down. “You all knew something was happening to her. That’s why….” He trailed off, his jaw hardening.
Several of the guards moved to the front of the King and Queen, surrounding them fully—
A shock of white fur shot forward. Delano tucked his tail back as he pawed at the marble. He lifted his head and howled. The eerie yet beautiful sound raised the tiny hairs all over my body.
Off in the distance, the faint sounds of yips and barks answered, growing louder with each second. The leaves on the tall, cone-shaped trees separating the temple from Saion’s Cove trembled as a rolling rumble echoed from the ground below. Blue-and-yellow-winged birds took flight from the trees, scattering to the sky.
“Godsdamn.” Emil turned to the temple steps. He reached for the swords at his sides. “They’re summoning the whole damn city.”
“It’s her.” The deep scar slicing across the older wolven’s forehead stood out starkly. Potent disbelief rolled off Alastir as he stood just outside the circle of guards who’d formed around Casteel’s parents.
“It is not her,” Casteel shot back.
“But it is,” King Valyn confirmed as he stared at me from a face that Casteel’s would one day become. “They’re responding to her. That’s why the ones on the road with us shifted without warning. She called them to her.”
“I…I didn’t call anyone,” I told Casteel, voice cracking.
“I know.” Casteel’s tone softened as his eyes locked with mine.
“But she did,” his mother insisted. “You might not realize it, but you did summon them.”
My eyes darted to her, and I felt my chest wrench. She was everything I’d imagined Casteel’s mother to be. Stunning. Regal. Powerful. Calm now, even as she remained on one knee, even when she had first seen me and demanded of her son—What have you’ve done? What have you brought back? I flinched, fearing those words would stay with me long after today.
Casteel’s features sharpened as golden eyes swept over my face. “If the idiots behind me actually laid down their swords instead of lifting them against my wife, we wouldn’t have an entire colony of wolven about to descend on us,” he bit out. “They are only reacting to the threat.”
“You’re right,” his father agreed as he gently guided his wife to her feet. Blood soaked the knee and the hem of her lilac gown. “But ask yourself why your bonded wolven is guarding someone other than you.”
“I really could care less at the moment,” Casteel responded as the sound of hundreds—if not more—of paws pounding the earth grew even closer. He couldn’t be serious. He had to care, because that was a damn good question.
“You need to care,” his mother cautioned, a thin quiver in her otherwise steady voice. “The bonds have broken.”
The bonds? Hands trembling, my wide eyes shot to the temple steps, to where Emil slowly backed away. Naill had his swords in his hands now.
“She’s right,” Alastir uttered, the skin around his mouth appearing even whiter. “I can… I can feel it—the Primal notam. Her mark. Good gods.” His voice trembled as he stumbled back, nearly stepping on the crown. “They’ve all broken.”
I had no idea what a notam was, but through the confusion and the blossoming panic, there was something odd about what Alastir had stated. If it was true, then why wasn’t he in his wolven form? Was it because he’d already broken his wolven bond with the former King of Atlantia all those years ago?
“Look at their eyes,” the Queen ordered softly, pointing out what I’d seen. “I know you don’t understand. There are things you never needed to learn, Hawke.” Her voice cracked then, thickened at the use of his nickname—a name I’d once believed to be nothing more than a lie. “But what you need to know now is that they no longer serve the Elemental bloodline. You are not safe. Please,” she begged. “Please. Listen to me, Hawke.”
“How?” I croaked. “How could the bond break?”
“That doesn’t matter right now.” The amber of Casteel’s eyes was nearly luminous. “You’re bleeding,” he said as if that were the most important issue at hand.
But it wasn’t. “How?” I repeated.
“It’s what you are.” Eloana’s left hand balled into the skirt of her gown. “You have the blood of a god in you—”
“I’m mortal,” I told her.
A thick lock of dark hair tumbled from her knot as she shook her head. “Yes, you are mortal, but you are descended from a deity—the children of the gods. All it takes is a drop of god’s blood—” She swallowed thickly. “You may have more than just a drop, but what is in your blood, what is in you, supersedes any oath the wolven have taken.”
I remembered then what Kieran had told me in New Haven about the wolven. The gods had given the once-wild kiyou wolves mortal form to serve as guides and protectors to the children of the gods—the deities. Something else Kieran had shared then explained the Queen’s reaction.
My gaze shot to the crown lying near Nyktos’ feet. A drop of deity blood usurped any claim to the Atlantian throne.
Oh, gods, there was a good chance I really might pass out. And how embarrassing would that be?
Eloana’s gaze shifted to her son’s rigid back. “You go near her? Right now? They will see you as a threat to her. They will rip you apart.”
My heart lurched to a panicked stop. Casteel looked as if he might do just that. Behind me, one of the smaller wolven lurched forward, barking and snapping at the air.
Every muscle in my body tensed. “Casteel—”
“It’s okay.” Casteel’s eyes never left mine. “No one is going to harm Poppy. I will not allow that.” His chest rose with a deep, heavy breath. “And you know that, right?”
I nodded as each breath came too fast, too shallowly. It was the only thing I understood at the moment.
“Everything’s all right. They’re just protecting you.” Casteel smiled for me then, but it was tense and tight. He looked to my left, at Kieran. “I don’t know everything that is going on right now, but you—all of you—want to keep her safe. And I’m all about that. You know I would never hurt her. I would tear out my own heart before I did that. She’s injured. I need to make sure she’s okay, and nothing is going to stop me from doing that.” He didn’t blink as he held Kieran’s stare, as the rolling thunder of the other wolven reached the temple steps. “Not even you. Any of you. I will destroy every single one of you who stands between her and me.”
Kieran’s growl deepened, and an emotion I’d never felt from him before poured into me. It was like anger, but older. And it felt like that buzz in my blood had. Ancient. Primal.
And in an instant, I could see it all playing out in my mind as if it were happening before me. Kieran would attack. Or maybe it would be Jasper. I’d seen what kind of damage a wolven could inflict, but Casteel wouldn’t go down easily. He would do just as he’d promised. He’d tear through all that stood between him and me. Wolven would die, and if he harmed Kieran—if he did worse than that, the wolven’s blood wouldn’t just be on Casteel’s hands. It would mark his soul till the day he died.
A wave of wolven crested the temple’s stairs, both small and large, in so many different colors. Their arrival brought terrifying knowledge. Casteel was incredibly strong and unbelievably fast. He would take down many. But he would fall with them.
He would die.
Casteel would die because of me—because I called to these wolven and didn’t know how to make it stop. My heart thumped erratically. A wolven near the steps stalked Emil as he continued backing up. Another tracked Naill as he spoke softly to the wolven, attempting to reason with the creature. The others had zeroed in on the guards surrounding the King and Queen, and a few…. Oh, gods, several of them crept up behind Casteel. This had slipped into chaos, the wolven beyond control of any of them…
I sucked in a sharp breath as my mind raced, breaking free of the pain and turbulence. Something had happened within me to make that drop of god’s blood break the bonds. I superseded their previous oaths, and that had…it had to mean that they now obeyed me.
“Stop,” I ordered as Kieran snapped at Casteel, whose own lips were now peeled back. “Kieran! Stop! You will not hurt Casteel.” My voice rose as a soft hum returned to my blood. “All of you will stop. Now! None of you will attack.”
It was like a switch had been thrown in the wolven’s minds. One second they were all poised to attack, and then they were sinking onto their bellies, lowering their heads between their front paws. I could still feel their anger, the old power, but it had lessened already, was fading in steady waves.
Emil lowered his sword. “That…that was timely. Thank you for that.”
A ragged breath left me as a tremor traveled up and down my arms. I almost couldn’t believe it’d worked as I scanned the temple, seeing all the wolven lying down. My entire being wanted to rebel against further confirmation of what the Queen had claimed, but gods, there was only so much I could deny. Throat dry, I looked at Casteel.
He stared at me, his eyes wide once more. I couldn’t breathe enough. My heart wouldn’t slow enough for me to make sense of what he was feeling.
“He will not hurt me. You all know that,” I said, my voice shaking as I looked at Jasper and then Kieran. “You told me that he was the only person in both kingdoms that I was safe with. That hasn’t changed.”
Kieran’s ears twitched, and then he rose, backing up. He turned, nudging my hand with his nose.
“Thank you,” I whispered, briefly closing my eyes.
“Just so you know,” Casteel murmured, thick lashes lowered halfway, “what you just did? Said? It has me feeling all kinds of wildly inappropriate things at the moment.”
A weak, shaky laugh left me. “There’s something so wrong with you.”
“I know.” The left side of his lips curved, and his dimple appeared. “But you love that about me.”
I did. Gods, I really did.
Jasper shook out his fur as his large head swung from me to Casteel. He turned sideways, making a rough, huffing sound as he did. The other wolven moved then, coming out from behind the blood tree. I watched them trot past me—past Casteel and the others—ears perked and tails wagging as they joined the wolven descending the steps and left the temple. Only Jasper, his son, and Delano remained, and the feeling of chaotic tension lifted.
A thick lock of dark hair fell over Casteel’s forehead. “You were glowing silver again. When you ordered the wolven to stop,” he told me. “Not a lot, not like before, but you looked like spun moonlight.”
Had I been? I glanced down at my hands. They looked normal. “I…I don’t know what’s happening,” I whispered, my legs shaking. “I don’t know what’s going on.” I lifted my eyes to his and watched him take a step forward, and then another. There were no snarls of warning. Nothing. My throat started to burn. I could feel it—tears creeping into my eyes. I couldn’t cry. I wouldn’t. Everything had already turned into enough of a mess without me sobbing hysterically. But I was so tired. I hurt, and it went beyond the physical.
When I first stepped into this temple and looked out over the clear waters of the Seas of Saion, I’d felt like I was home. And I knew things would be hard. Proving our union was real wouldn’t be nearly as difficult as gaining the acceptance of Casteel’s parents and that of his kingdom. We still needed to find his brother, Prince Malik. And mine. We had to deal with the Ascended Queen and King. Nothing about our future would be easy, but I had hope.
Now, I felt foolish. So naïve. The older wolven in Spessa’s End, the one I’d helped heal after the battle, had warned me about the people of Atlantia. They did not choose you. And I now doubted they ever would.
I drew in a stuttering breath and whispered, “I didn’t want any of this.”
Tension bracketed Casteel’s mouth. “I know.” His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle as he placed his palm over the cheek that didn’t feel swollen. He lowered his forehead to mine, and the shock of awareness his flesh against mine brought was there, rippling through me as he slid his hand into the tangled mess of my hair. “I know, Princess,” he whispered, and I squeezed my eyes shut against a stronger rush of tears. “It’s okay. It will all be okay. I promise you that.”
I nodded, even though I knew it wasn’t something he could guarantee. Not anymore. I forced myself to swallow the knot of emotion that rose.
Casteel kissed my blood-streaked brow and then lifted his head. “Emil? Can you retrieve clothing from Delano’s and Kieran’s horses so they can shift and not scar anyone?”
“I’ll be more than happy to do that,” the Atlantian answered.
I almost laughed. “I think their nakedness will be the least scarring thing to happen today.”
Casteel said nothing as he touched my cheek again, gently tilting my head to the side. His gaze then dropped to several of the rocks still littering the ground at my feet. A muscle popped along his jaw. His eyes lifted to mine, and I saw his pupils were dilated, only a thin strip of amber visible. “They tried to stone you?”
I heard a soft gasp I thought had come from his mother, but I didn’t look. I didn’t want to see their faces. I didn’t want to know what they felt right now. “They accused me of working with the Ascended, and they called me a Soul Eater. I told them I wasn’t. I tried to talk to them.” Words spilled out in a rush as I lifted my hands to touch him, but I stopped. I didn’t know what my touch would do. Hell, I didn’t even know what I would do without touching someone. “I tried to reason with them, but they started throwing stones. I told them to stop. I said it was enough, and…I don’t know what I did—” I started to look over his shoulder, but Casteel seemed to know what it was I searched for. He stopped me. “I didn’t mean to kill them.”
“You were defending yourself.” His pupils constricted as he caught my stare. “You did what you had to do. You were defending yourself—”
“But I didn’t touch them, Casteel,” I whispered. “It was like in Spessa’s End, during the battle. Remember the soldiers who surrounded us? When they fell, I felt something in me. I felt that again here. It was like something inside me knew what to do. I took their anger and I—I did exactly what a Soul Eater would do. I took it from them and then gave it back.”
“You are not a Soul Eater,” Queen Eloana said from somewhere not too far away. “The moment the eather in your blood became visible, those who attacked you should’ve known exactly what you were. What you are.”
“Eather?”
“It’s what some would call magic,” Casteel answered, shifting his stance as if he were blocking his mother from me. “You’ve seen it before.”
“The mist?”
He nodded. “It’s the essence of the gods, what’s in their blood, what gives them their abilities and the power to create all that they have. No one really calls it that anymore, not since the gods went to sleep, and the deities died off.” His eyes searched mine. “I should have known. Gods, I should’ve seen it…”
“You can say that now,” his mother spoke. “But why would you have even thought that this would be a possibility? No one would’ve expected this.”
“Except for you,” Casteel said. And he was right. She’d known, without a doubt. And, granted, I had been glowing upon her arrival, but she’d known with unquestioned certainty.
“I can explain,” she said as Emil appeared, carrying two saddlebags. He gave all of us a wide berth as he dropped them near Jasper and then backed away.
“Apparently, a lot needs to be explained,” Casteel remarked coolly. “But it will have to wait.” His gaze touched on my left cheek, and that muscle throbbed along his jaw again. “I need to get you somewhere safe where I can…. Where I can take care of you.”
“You can take her to your old rooms at my place,” Jasper announced, startling me. I hadn’t even heard him shift. I started to look over at him but saw skin as he reached for the saddlebag.
“That will do.” Casteel took what appeared to be a pair of breeches from Jasper. “Thank you.”
“Will it be safe for you there?” I asked, and a wry grin tugged at Casteel’s lips.
“He’ll be safe there,” Kieran answered.
So shocked by the sound of Kieran’s voice, I turned. And didn’t stop. There was a whole lot of tawny skin on display, but he stood there like he wasn’t naked in front of all who remained. For once, I really had no problem ignoring the fact that he was nude. I looked at his eyes. They were normal—a vivid, striking blue without the silvery-white aura. “You were going to attack Casteel.”
Kieran nodded as he took the pants from Casteel.
“He most definitely was,” Casteel confirmed.
I looked back at my husband. “And you threatened to destroy him.”
The dimple in his left cheek appeared again. “I did.”
“Why are you smiling? That isn’t something that should make you smile.” I stared at him, stupid tears burning my eyes. I didn’t care that we had an audience. “That can never happen again. Do you hear me?” I twisted to Kieran, who arched a brow as he pulled his breeches up over his lean hips. “Do you both hear me? I won’t allow it. I won’t—”
“Shh.” Casteel’s light touch to my cheek drew my gaze back to his as he stepped into me. He was close enough that his chest brushed mine with each breath. “It won’t happen again, Poppy.” His thumb quickly swiped under my left eye. “Right?”
“Right.” Kieran cleared his throat. “I don’t…” He fell quiet.
His father didn’t. “As long as the Prince doesn’t give any of us a reason to behave differently, we will protect him as fiercely as we will protect you.”
We. As in the entirety of the wolven race. That’s what Alastir had meant when he’d said that all the bonds had broken. I had a lot of questions, but I plopped my head on Casteel’s chest. It didn’t feel that great, sending a flare of pain across my head. I didn’t care because when I inhaled, all I smelled was lush spice and pine. Casteel carefully folded an arm around my upper back, and I thought… I thought I felt him shudder against me.
“Wait,” Kieran said. “Where is Beckett? He was with you when you walked off.”
Casteel drew back slightly. “That’s right. He offered to show you the temple.” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “He led you here.”
A wave of goosebumps pimpled my skin. Beckett. Pressure clamped down on my chest, squeezing tightly as I thought of the young wolven who’d spent the vast majority of the trip here chasing butterflies. I still couldn’t believe that he had led me here, knowing what awaited. But I remembered the bitter taste of his fear that day in Spessa’s End. He’d been terrified of me.
Or had he been terrified of something else?
His emotions had been all over the place. He’d gone from being normal around me, happy and grinning, to suddenly afraid and anxious, as he had been when he brought me up here.
“He disappeared before the others showed up,” I told Casteel. “I don’t know where he went.”
“Find Beckett,” he ordered, and Delano, still in his wolven form, tilted his head. “Naill? Emil? Go with him. Make sure Beckett is brought to me alive.”
Both Atlantians nodded and bowed. Nothing about Casteel’s tone suggested that the alive part was a good thing. “He’s just a kid.” I watched Delano rush off, quickly disappearing with Naill and Emil. “He was scared. And now that I think about it—”
“Poppy.” Casteel placed the tips of his fingers against my cheek, just below a spot that ached. He dipped his head, brushing his lips over the cut. “I have two things to say. If Beckett had anything to do with this, I don’t care what or who he is, and I sure as fuck don’t care about what he was feeling.” His voice rose until all who remained at the temple could hear him, including his parents.
“A move against my wife is a proclamation of war against me. Their fate is already sealed. And, secondly?” He lowered his head even farther. This time, his lips brushed over mine in a featherlight kiss. I could barely feel it, but it somehow still managed to twist my insides into knots. He then lifted his head, and I saw it in his features—the stark stillness of a predator locking onto its prey. I’d seen it before, right before he’d torn out Landell’s heart back in New Haven.
Casteel turned his head to the side, looking at the only wolven who remained, now standing on two legs. “You.”
#casteel da'neer#hawke flynn#poppy balfour#penellaphe balfour#cas x poppy#hawke x poppy#the crown of gilded bones#blood and ash series#jennifer l armentrout#TCOGB
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His Hero
Criella x Wyll (ft. a little Dafni x Astarion) || M || Ao3 || Ko-fi || Let me write you a story? || Want to know what Dafni & Astarion got up to?
Criella looked absolutely radiant. Her long straight lilac hair hung loose and lovely down the long line of her back. Her spiraling, rosewood colored horns dressed in chains of silver and charms of luminous crystal. Her slender arms were free of their normal leather coverings revealing a tattoo of elegantly scrawled infernal that pulsed with arcane iridescence.
Innovate
A fitting descriptor.
As striking as she was it wasn’t her beauty alone that drew him to her. Rather it was the cocktail of boldness and brilliance she had exhibited in their short acquaintance. Her mind was sharp and quick to collaborate. In the heat of battle, her voice never wavered. He had watched in awe as she conjured roaring thunder and icy lighting. Weaving each spell together in a fearsome tempest. Raining down elegant destruction on Ragzlin’s perverse throne room. Ending the leader’s tyrannical grip on the coast with one precise strike of crackling electricity.
“Enjoying your evening?” She asked, handing him a tankard of honeyed ale.
“There she is- the woman herself.” Let us raise a glass! Wyll chuckled, clicking the edge of his cup with her own goblet of red wine, “To freedom from tyranny! May we hew a path for the downtrodden to travel. To you a legend in the making! And of course to us. May our bond only grow stronger.”
“Quite the toast.” She stated, casually bringing the silver goblet to her soft, quirked lips, “Are you coming on to me, Wyll?”
Wyll shivered at the feeling of the heart-shaped tip of her tail training up his spine. The curing white lines of her facial tattoos crinkling as she arched an expectant, manicured brow.
“I hadn’t imagined myself so subtle?” He said, glancing up at her over the foam of his ale. A subtle grin curling across his lips, eyebrows ever so slightly raised, “Or to put it another way: yes.” Criella’s tail wrapped itself loosely around his waist a coy smile of her own working its way across her stunning features. Her silver eyes were nearly opalescent in the warm, gingery fire’s glow. Wyll pressed his lips to the slightly angled shell of her ear, speaking in a voice smooth as silk, “Your heart beats strong, friend. The Blade rarely seeks partnership.”
Criella’s hold on his midsection tightened as the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. The timbre of his voice felt like a hot beverage on a cool morning. Warming her from the tips of her fingers to the depths of her belly. It had been ages since she’d felt that sort of pull towards another being. Her heart dropped a bit as the memory of standing beside Zoria in a Neverwinter temple entered her mind. She had looked so beautiful, dressed in her gown of chiffon and net. The Ivory fabric standing in perfect contrast with her violet skin.
Criella had been profoundly hurt when her best friend announced she was not only to be wed to her latest sweetheart but that she’d be leaving Waterdeep with her. It had felt like a betrayal. They had built something special together. Something so unique that Criella had sacrificed her own desires to pursue something deeper to preserve it. And Zoria was going to throw it all away. Yes, she had been mad but that all fell away when she saw the love Zoria had for her bride. She loved Zoria and loving her meant wanting to see her happy even if it was with someone else. The passage of time had softened the sting of losing her. It became easier and easier to write to her in the past few years. She even had begun to enjoy hearing about her wife and the sweet life they had made for themselves in Neverwinter.
The experience had stung but it had taught her that hiding her feelings away was not necessarily the best course of action. Who could say if things would have worked out differently had she voiced her feelings? Regardless, it was not a mistake she’d be making twice. Wyll was a good man. She admired his tactical mind. His plan to take on the goblins had been clean and clever. He had fought for people whom he had no loyalties or connection to . Not because they had offered him gold or glory, but because they needed help. A fond smile played at her lips as she pictured Wyll with his tiefling charges, so gentle and patient. She’d practically melted on sight when she found him sparing amongst the children.
Wyll was the sort of man she’d imagined into fairy stories as a brave king or gallant knight. An uncharacteristically wistful sight fell from her lips, causing her baby pink cheeks to grow a deep strawberry. Gods he was handsome! With a strong, noble countenance. Yet, there was a bit of ruggedness to his stubbled jaw that added a certain something to his charms.
“Are you propositioning me, Blade?” She purred careful not to bump him with her horns as she placed her head on his broad shoulder.
“If I were?” Wyll asked.
“I would be incredibly flattered.” she assured, tilting her gaze up at him, “And happily accept.”
“In that case, I reckon our union might continue to your bunk tonight.” Wyll beamed placing a feather-light kiss on her temple. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he added, “ Or I suppose we could just start out here like those two.” Wyll nudged her hip with his own, pointing a discreet finger towards their elven compatriots.
“Now that is an idea!” Criella laughed. However, her amusement curdled as she watched Dafni’s hand travel ever closer to the front of Astarion’s breeches, “But, I think we’d best spare these poor people another...display.”
“You’re probably right.” He agreed, his hand reaching up to stroke the delicate line of her cheek, “But, I’d like to kiss you. Something to tide me over until the party winds down.”
Criella lifted her head from his shoulder with an eager look. Wyll took her chin between his sword-calloused fingers, tilting her rosy face toward his lips. The moment their mouths brushed the world spun to a halt. She tasted of cherry wine and rosewater. The tip of her tongue sliding across the inner edge of his lip coaxing a soft gasp forward. Wyll wrapped one hand around her waist, his fingers gently pressing into her hip. The other laced through the waterfall of lavender hair, soft as satin as in his grasp. His heart thumped loudly in his own ears at the feeling of her warm palms sliding against his chest. A dull ache began behind his eye. A flash of bronze hair and moonlight skin tearing through his mind.
Wyll stumbled back ending the heart-stopping embrace, “Pardon, just a bit woozy…”
“That’s alright. Do you still want to meet later?”
“Definitely.” Wyll nodded twirling a stray lock of hair around his index finger, “I’ll meet you at your bunk when you’re ready. I trust I won’t have to wait long.”
As soon as the party dwindled to its embers, Criella practically skipped back to her tent, a smile fixed on her face. As she pushed the heavy lavender canvas back she took a quick stock of her surroundings. She kept her quarters tidy enough but spick and span did not necessarily correlate with romantic. Perhaps she could light some candles? Criella’s lower lip caught in her sharp teeth. It wasn’t like her to feel like a giddy green lass! She was a woman of confidence and ambition. Her affections had always manifested as quite longings rather than whimsical, girlish fancies. Then again, she’d never been kissed in such a breathtaking manner before.
Criella brushed the tips of her index and middle fingers across the plush flesh of her lips shivering as she felt the ghost of Wyll’s astounding kiss. He tasted of ale and smelled of campfire and sweet earth. Criella had been a firm believer that first kisses were more often than not dreadfully awkward but he had proven her dead wrong. She could have even been coaxed to reconsider her stance on public displays of desire, were it not for the strange sharpness that pried them apart.
She felt a phantom throb behind her eyes. Who was that? She’d caught the glimpse of a face in Wyll’s mind as their thoughts slipped together. Bronze hair glowing in a fiery halo, flawless skin the color of the moonlight, her lips impossibly pink but the finer details of her appearance remained obscured by a fog of uncertainty. After a moment of concentration, she came to the conclusion that It didn’t matter who she was. Criella had never been the jealous sort and she had no intention of starting now. Wyll was a charming, attractive gentleman; she hadn’t deluded herself into thinking his affections had never belonged to another, nor did she mind that they had. What mattered was the here and now. And in the here and now Wyll wanted her.
With that sorted, she shifted her focus to the matter at hand. She kicked off her boots before peeled away the soft leather of her leggings carefully folding and tucking them away. She loosened the laces of her green blouse allowing it to hand loose and casual from her narrow shoulders. With a stylish flick of her hand, she projected her mirror image. She shifted her weight to her right foot, her hip popping out slightly as her hand came to rest on its peak.
“You are still glowing from battle. On my honor, you’ve never looked more beautiful.” Wyll’s warm voice filled the tent wrapping around her half-dressed body like a lover’s embrace. He approached her with slow, sure steps but his eyes flickered with a gentle want that set a fire between her thighs.
Once more, Wyll pulled her close, their lips meeting in a deep sensual kiss. Criella’s palms pressed against his firm chest taking up a handful of his dark cotton shirt as she pulled him closer. His fingers found their way to her hair, his nails skimming lightly across her scalp. Criella cupped his cheek, thumb running along his scarred cheek.
Wyll winced, pulling back from her kiss once more. Before she could ask what was wrong the needling pain behind her eye retired once more along with the mysterious woman. Her dazzling smile turned razor-sharp. Horns pushed their way through her ginger hair. Her creamy complexion shifting to a steely blue as two great, leather wings spreading out from her proud shoulders.
A Cambion.
There was no mistaking it. This woman was Wyll’s patron, she was certain. Criella tried to hold her image in her mind, searching for any defining features or giveaways of her nature but Mizora’s wicked grin cut through her thoughts like a knife forcing her to look away.
“Damnit. Must she ruin everything?” Wyll muttered bringing his palm to his stone eye to rub away the discomfort. “I’m sorry it's not supposed to be this way.”
“That was her, wasn’t it? Mizora.”
Wyll’s shoulders slumped, hand still guarding his eye, “Yes. Wherever she’s gone she still haunts me. A ghost in all but name. Sometimes I swear I can smell her- sulfur and orchids. Stops my heart just to think of it. I thought I could forget Mizora. Just for one night. Gods, how wrong I was. “
Criella’s lips turned up into a soft smile as she pulled Wyll’s guardian palm from his face. Her voice was warm and sure as she spoke, “I understand Wyll, as well as I am able at least. Why don’t you spend the night beside me? No sex just sharing each other's company, hm?”
“I’d like that.”
Criella guided him down to her woolen bedroll by the arm. Wyll’s head came to read against her chest as she gently rubbed the tension from his strong, reliable shoulders. He let out a sigh as her nimble fingers worked at a perpetually tight spot near his collarbone.
“I’d forgotten what it’s like to feel safe.” He confessed, warm whisky brown eyes meeting her’s. “I’m used to being the hero. Not so used to needing one.”
“It must be hard,” She mused in a musical tone, hands still working the stubborn muscle, Looking out for everyone else all the time. Devoting yourself to helping others. That’s a heavy burden for one man to carry. You are allowed to have a few moments for yourself. Besides, you’ll always be a hero to me, Wyll.”
“It means so much to hear those words from you.” He sighed, warping his hand gently around her wrist, I wish I could give you something more in return. My flesh at least. Something deeper were you to ask it. But only a free man can give himself fully. Until my pact is broken... I’m never free.”
“You will be rid of her one day. Sooner than you might think too.” She winked, tossing her loose hair with a flick of her tail, “You have my aid now after all! I’m somewhat of an expert on the Hells, Cania in particular, but I have a fair knowledge of the other eight as well. I’m no stranger to the politics and schemes of devils and there is nothing I can’t do once my mind is set to it. “
Wyll pressed his lips in a soft kiss to the sensitive skin on her inner wrist before pressing her palm to his steadily beating heart. “You are a blessing, Wit.”
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Wrecked - C1
Mal drew thick, dark lines into the wall mural of Jay. She focused particularly on the contour of his shoulders and long, streaky hair. Rain pattered down on the roof and rolled off into the streets below. The door onto the scaffolding was shut, and the window blockaded with cardboard and duct tape. Outside, it had been raining for two days. It was late October, so the precipitation was a mixture of dirty water and grey slush. God bless the barrier for preventing air circulation and giving everyone on the Isle garbage-infused rain.
They weren’t freezing, mostly thanks to Evie who made their clothes and kept them warm, and Jay for hauling cardboard and tin sheets on top of their roof to help seal it up. Mal had been layering for the last three days. Tank top on long-sleeve shirt on short-sleeved shirt on Evie’s special Isle jacket. Carlos, Jay, and Evie were also layering. Right now, her team was huddled in a small spread of ratty blankets amid the few mattresses they’d managed to pilfer. Carlos was fiddling with one of his gadgets, Evie was embroidering something, and Jay had leaned back, pulled his beanie over his eyes, and gone to sleep.
As Mal added a vibrant blue color over the emblem on Jay’s jacket, she heard a panicked gasp from behind. She spun with the spray can outstretched and stared at Carlos, who was looking around in surprise. Both Evie and Jay looked equally surprised.
“Did you guys hear that?” Carlos asked in shock.
“Hear what?” Jay asked. He looked around the apartment suspiciously. Mal studied the look on Carlos’s face. He looked amazed as he searched for the source of the sound he’d heard. A sense of dread spread throughout her stomach.
“It was a girl.” Carlos said, sounding amazed. “She asked, ‘what’s your name?’”
Mal had to swallow a gulp as she lowered the spray can and pressed her arms to her sides to stop them from shaking. “No one said anything, Carlos,” she said softly. “You probably imagined it.”
“Or it could have been your soulmate.” Evie shrugged, setting down your project. “Did you get kind of a warm or a cold feeling along your spine?”
“Yeah.” Carlos nodded. “Yeah, I did. What’s a soulmate?”
“Just your other half.” Jay waved the question away, sitting back like everything had been resolved as Mal’s grip grew increasingly tight on the can. “It’s not as big as it’s cracked up to be.”
“I think they’re wonderful.” Evie’s eyes turned dreamy. “I haven’t had my first contact yet, but I’m sure they’ll be royalty from Auradon!”
Jay snorted. “Yeah, whatever,” he scoffed. “It’s not automatic True Love, Evie. A soulmate is more like… your best shot at a best friend.”
Carlos leaned forward, listening to every word. “What do they do? Who are they?” he asked.
“It’s someone who you connect with better than any other person in existence.” Jay said. “Almost everyone has one. If you get really in-tune with yours, you can actually start sharing thoughts and senses, but that’s extremely rare. Most people just get to talk with theirs mentally every once in a while. You usually hear them for the first time when you’re twelve to fourteen, but evidently with some people it happens a bit later.” He leaned over and pinched Evie’s arm, who yelped.
“You have one then?” Carlos asked. “A soulmate?”
“Yeah.” Jay nodded. “I heard mine almost two years ago, back when I was thirteen. She’s a girl. We talked swords for a few seconds.” And, like clockwork, they looked up at Mal, who had to fight to keep the telltale colors of sickness off her face. “Do you know yours, Mal?” Jay asked.
Mal stared with wide eyes and a cold began to creep down her spine. For a moment, she thought it was dread, but then she felt her soulmate’s tentative emotions creep through her and realized it was actually their connection opening. Horrible timing. She panicked. “I don’t have a soulmate,” she said quickly. “I’ve never felt a connection like what you’re describing.” There. Clever words.
Against her will, a deep and resounding sense of betrayal filled her. She turned back to the wall and arced the spray paint over her mural.
“Why would you say that?” her soulmate asked. “That’s hurtful.” Mal bit her lip as she tried to shove his feelings away like they were her own, but unfortunately, he was much more accepting of his emotions than she was. She didn’t know how to explain that her own connection was unlike anything she’d ever heard about and it freaked her out. She didn’t know how to tell him that she had never felt the things he felt on a daily basis and they scared her every time their connection randomly opened. She did know, however, to tell him to quit doing that in as commanding a tone as she could. It rarely worked.
“It’s a weakness. An abnormality. They could tell someone.” Mal said in a brash, stubborn tone. Not just someone, of course. If this information ever found its way back to her mother, who knew what would happen? Maleficent, the Mistress of Evil, had never had a soulmate and felt nothing but disdain for those who did. The words “weakness” and “abnormality” had fallen straight out of the Dark Queen’s mouth. She was powerful, she had told Mal, because she didn’t have some pathetic fool attached to her like nearly everyone else. And, she had pointed out, more people lacked soulmates on the Isle than anywhere else. To have a soulmate… it was a characteristic associated with Auradon and heroes and everything good in the world. The thought that her own daughter could have such a trait - it was too shameful to consider.
“So what?” he asked, just as stubbornly. Mal felt anger, hot and fierce, spike through her. She couldn’t tell if it was hers or his. The more they talked, the more the emotions blurred. She heard his voice in her ears like he was standing next to her. His emotions ran under her skin in an icy stream that seemed to warm her up as it rushed by. It was strange.
“So, I don’t want to get beaten up because my soulmate and our whole connection is super freaky,” she snapped. It wasn’t just an insult. Most people had their first connection when they were twelve or thirteen, like Jay had said, but she’d had hers at the age of five. As she’d gotten older, they’d had more and more full-length conversations, which was practically unheard of. And despite that, he was secretive. She didn’t know his name, his age, his parents, anything about him. Mal wondered if he was the son of a minor villain and was embarrassed by that. She could let slip who her mother was and lord it over him, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of finding out things about her when she knew nothing about him.
“Who would beat up someone because of their soulmate? And besides, our connection’s just different because -” He stopped talking abruptly.
“Because...?” she asked with a furrowed brow. Realization began to dawn in her head. He knew. His guilt creeped through her spine; cold and condemning. “You know?” she sputtered. “You know what’s wrong with us?”
“Nothing’s wrong with us,” he corrected. Indignation began to build in her heart.
“Oh really? So everybody blabs to their soulmate as much as you do?” She looked back up at the mural on the wall and realized her eyes had started to glow as she aggravated herself more and more. She quickly calmed herself down before her friends could notice.
She directed her attention to him. He had noticed something that was making him uneasy.
“It’s because you have magic,” he said quietly. “Really strong magic. Am I right?”
She blinked. That hadn’t been at all what she was expecting. “Is that a problem?” He must have felt the power surging behind her eyes - an all too common occurrence, as anger was a very common emotion on the Isle. Mal wondered how he knew that he’d been feeling the effects of magic. Fascinating.
“No, not at all. It’s just… I think that’s why our connection is so strong,” he explained. Her irritation grew into frustration. The Isle of the Lost’s barrier suppressed all magic within its borders. Yet somehow, even though she couldn’t use it, she got all the awful side effects. Side effects like him.
“Whatever,” she thought to him, officially done playing host to this mysterious voice for today. “Whatever, whatever, whatever.” Then she screwed her eyes closed, focused, and threw him out of her mind. The chill faded in her spine. She felt a sense of accomplishment at being able to shut the door between them, even though she knew it would now be a few more weeks before she’d have the opportunity to wrench any more answers from him. That, and the next time they talked, their connection would be stronger. It always was when they learned new things about each other or about the connection. She wondered what would be different this time. Maybe she’d actually be able to shut his emotions out of her system like she could with hers?
“Jay,” Carlos said, pulling her attention back to her friend’s conversation. “How can I talk to my soulmate again?”
Mal groaned internally. If this was their conversation for the next hour, she was going to scream.
#descendants#disney#disney descendants#mal#ben x mal#queen mal#ben#king ben#evie#jay#carlos de vil#soulmate#fanfic
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Tragedy Breeds Bias
Tourthun lay on the dirt floor of his lair, head slumped as he stared at the ground.
How could things have gone so wrong?
In a single childhood, the young dragon had lost his mother, his father, and his home...but the hardships didn’t end there.
A starving, helpless child, Tourthun made a gamble and approached a human settlement, begging for help.
It paid off. The humans gave him food, shelter, and most importantly, companionship. They lived alongside him as he matured, teaching him how to scavenge and live on his own.
Thank goodness his father extolled the humans’ virtues before he passed on. Tourthun might have been too scared to reach out otherwise.
He never did start hunting wildlife, as most dragons did. No, it hurt him to imagine harming those small, helpless creatures, trying to flee from a bigger, stronger beast...
They reminded him of himself.
Just as he became an adult, the Exile happened. All non-humans were rounded up and quarantined in a single city...and the kingdom was powerful enough to enforce it on ALL non-humans...even dragons.
While Tourthun might have been pleased by that, two things infuriated him. First, the small ones were not exempt. The lizard people, the wolfmen, those kindly birdfolk, all were dragged along too.
Secondly, while they DID exile dragonkind...that included Tourthun.
The townspeople gathered in a mob, ready to oppose the king’s edict, swearing to stand alongside their friend Tourthun.
When the army marched on the town, Tourthun saw what was about to happen, and surrendered before the attack could happen.
He may have wanted to oppose it, but he wouldn’t let an entire town get butchered for his sake.
He tearfully went along with it. Being put in massive, magically warded chains, and being mocked and jeered at by soldiers was humiliating for him. What cut deeper however, was being removed from the town of Havel. All his new friends, the dear, kindly people who saved him in his weakest moments...he was separated from them.
He had lost two homes and two families in little over a decade.
He scraped at the dirt mechanically, mind preoccupied with his anger. This lousy cave...this lousy mountain...it was foreign. Alien. He just wanted to go home.
He just wanted his family back.
“Excuse me.”
Tourthun’s head shot up at the sudden voice. Who had snuck in? How hadn’t he heard them coming?! Perhaps he was too deeply lost in his thoughts...
Before him stood another dragon. He had green scales and blue eyes.
Blue...blue eyes...something about them, it...stirred up emotions in Tourthun.
Fearful, hateful emotions.
He quickly rose to his feet, baring his teeth at the other dragon. “Leave my home at once!” he roared, crouched low.
The other dragon’s eyes widened. He looked genuinely taken aback by Tourthun’s aggression.
“Easy, my friend! I am not here to challenge you.”
“I am not your friend.”
Tourthun stood his ground, still lowered and ready to pounce.
“I have come peacefully, noble one! I do not intend to cause trouble...I was hoping to speak with you. In good faith.”
Tourthun didn’t trust him. Not one bit.
“What do you want? Outsiders are not welcome in my home!”
“Well,“ the other dragon started, nervous, “I was hoping we could be...friends.”
Tourthun’s brow raised, gazing at the other beast in suspicion. “Friends?”
“That is correct.”
Although taken aback, the red dragon quickly recovered, still defensive. “And why would I want to be friends with you?”
“I was forced here during the exile, just like you! My family and I have taken up residence in some underground caves, just below the park in the city! Being with my family is good and all, but...I was hoping to make some friends. I heard another one of our kind was here, up in the mountain, and so I came! My name is Basilrin, what is yours?”
“Tourthun,” the red dragon spat, “and I do not share your convictions. Leave me.”
The green dragon’s face dropped, his voice raising in pitch. “What?! Why? Did I do something wrong? Have I offended you in some way?”
Sudden, violent flashes of imagery assaulted Tourthun’s mind.
A green dragon, laying over his father’s lifeless corpse, muzzle covered in the blood of his beloved father. A cruel, twisted grin on his face.
The face of his father’s murderer.
“Indeed,” Tourthun answered, “You showed your face to me.”
Basilrin reeled back in shock. “What?! B-but...I just wanted to be friends with you...”
“Lies,” Tourthun said, “Your words ring hollow. You could never desire anything more than my downfall.”
“That is not true!” Basilrin insisted, “I covet nothing but your approval!”
Tourthun snarled at the invader. “Your kind are all the same. A false smile, a twisted purpose...and finally, merciless killing when you hold the advantage.“
The other dragon winced. “Y-your words are venomous, good Tourthun...we are not all the same...just because my scales are green, does not make me treacherous!”
“Your scales?” Tourthun’s cold visage broke, if only for a moment. He laughed. “You think I care about your coloring?! No, I meant ALL of your kind!”
“All...?” Basilrin squinted. “You mean...both of our kind? Dragonkind?”
“I am nothing like the rest of you!” the young dragon barked, “I have seen the cruelty of your foul ilk firsthand. Murderers of my family! Betrayers! It is YOUR fault father is gone! It is YOUR fault he never got to watch me grow! I will never forgive you!”
Basilrin looked shaken by the red dragon’s words. “I...I had no idea. I am so very sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine how much pain you must have felt.”
“Do not hide behind false apologies!” Tourthun roared, “You are just like him! Like all of them! Your kind is a race of murderous butchers!”
“I have never harmed a soul in my life, friend...my father taught me to respect life.”
Tourthun snorted. “I refuse to believe it. Every time a dragon came, a parent died, murdered by them. You must be plotting something, oh yes...”
“You ran across two wicked ones...and you base your assumptions of us all on them?”
“Why not?” Tourthun said with an icy glare, “After all...I have yet to meet one that is not a villain.”
“You hurt me, noble one...I feel such heartache for your woes, and yet you lump me in with those killers! What have I done to deserve this suspicion?”
“You are a dragon,” Tourthun stated, “It is in your blood.”
Basilrin shook his head. Just as Tourthun was ready to go off on him some more, he looked back up at the red dragon.
“...what about your mother and father?”
Tourthun stiffened up. “W-what about them?”
“They were good, they were kind...correct?”
His eyes closed to a sliver, the dragon hurting as he recalled his life with father. “Yes...and they were slain for it. By YOU beasts. For the crime of not being merciless enough. For the crime of wanting to live in peace. For living wrong.”
Basilrin moved forward. “Tourthun, that is plenty proof! They were kind, just like you say were aren’t! There is your meeting with one that is not villainous!”
“W-we...are the exception,” Tourthun retorted, “Nothing more.”
Although he was trying to look unaffected, those words clearly did throw him for a loop. Tourthun had stuttered and hesitated. He looked uncomfortable now.
“They must have been raised by kindly dragons as well. Kindness and cruelty are often a result of upbringing. You must have had such a wonderful father, and such a strong heart to hold onto your morals despite the hardship. Is that not further proof? There are even more good ones out there! You just have had horrid luck and a cruel twist of fate!” Basilrin insisted, “Surely you should at least attempt to see if we are ALL evil before making assumptions...correct? A-and if you look at the numbers...there’s two good dragons, your parents, and two evil ones, the killers...not a vast minority at all! Our kind can be good!”
Tourthun quivered, teachings and experiences clashing with this new approach to thought. He shook and recoiled from the green dragon.
“I...I...”
Misty-eyed, he turned away from the other dragon in shame and doubt.
“Leave me...”
“Tourthun...?”
“Please. I do not wish to continue this. Please, leave. I...”
He turned his head back, pain-filled eyes gazing over his shoulder.
“I just want to be left alone.”
Basilrin, though hurting, nodded. “O-of course. I will respect your wishes. I shall take my leave.”
With a heavy sigh, the dragon turned and slowly padded towards the cave exit. He took one final look over his shoulder as he left.
“Oh, and...Tourthun?”
There was a brief pause.
“...yes?”
“Just...at least give it some thought, yes? My family and I are in the caves in the city. If you ever stop by, I would be happy to offer any help you needed. Any at all. Is that alright?”
Tourthun scraped at the dirt once more, neck craned downward.
“...I may consider it.”
With that, Basilrin took off, launching himself out of the cave, and back to his family.
His family.
HE had one, probably because he was protected by a big, powerful family...the balance of power, their numbers and strength, that was all that dragons respected, what kept them safe from one another.
Dragons...dragons! They were evil, they were cruel...they were liars and murderers, devoid of conscience! Every last one of them! ALL of them!
...right?
Some more backstory about Tourthun. Here, in his weakest moments, his fears and pain threaten his soft-hearted attitude. The stranger’s words ring in his mind, however...perhaps he was wrong.
Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @the-true-shadowmaster, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting
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Changeling Troubles. Chapter 6.
Chapter 11: Jim and Strickler have a talk and Strickler offers an alliance.
Synopsis: Barbara knows her friend and crush from college Walter Strickler is a changeling, trouble comes when she figures out he is not the only changeling she has met in her life. Jim is trying to balance his teenage life and being the trollhunter when he experiences certain… changes, which makes his life a whole lot more troublesome.
The drive up towards the outlook point was silent though Jim was glaring at his teacher, their eyes meeting a couple of times in the mirror.
Jim’s teeth gritted his teeth together. He was so pissed, a rage he had never really felt before. Never before had he been betrayed like this. Strickler was a man he trusted! Someone he felt he could talk to when he could talk to no one else would listen. It had been strange when he thought was dating his mom… but to find out that he was two faced. Literally! And that he had used his mother like that! Turned her against him and she did not even know!
His hands were clutching the amulet. He wanted to kill this man! Never before had he actually wanted to kill someone. It made him feel sick to his stomach, but he was so filled with rage.
After all… that was always the trouble with betrayal… it never comes from your enemies.
Strickler slowly pulled into the outlook point and put the car in park. He did not even look back as he stepped out before he wandered over, his green eyes gliding over the town of Arcadia. Despite hearing the trollhunter exit the vehicle he did not even look back, not even as he felt the crackle of magic and could see the shimmer of blue light in the corner of his eyes.
“Give me one good reason not to separate your head for your shoulders!” the teenager snarled, for once leaving the helmet off as he stared directly at his teacher. Strickler still did not even turn to look at him.
“Oh… I would not do that… not unless you want to decapitate your mother as well,” the changeling spoke softly.
“What…?” those words ran down the boy’s spine like icy water as he watched the changeling finally turned around.
“Well… young Atlas. When you get to my age… which… I assure you I am older than I look…”
“Hard to believe that is possible,” Jim’s interrupted causing Strickler to raise his brow slightly.
“Well… your mother does not seem to mind,” he then bit back, before he could blink he had the sword of Daylight against his throat.
“Keep speaking like that and I am going to turn you into a PEZ-dispenser,” Jim snarled. Strickler raised his brow slightly.
“Inventive… I got to admit that. But your threats does not work on me. I know what you are capable off, I know what you are not capable off,” he spoke softly.
“You believe I am not able to kill you simply because you are my teacher and my mother’s friend?!” Jim demanded.
“Well… I assumed as much. But… that was not what I was banking on. I know you will not wish to hurt your mother. As I was trying to say… when you reach my age you travel a bit… pick up certain… items…” he grinned, even with the sword which had claimed the lives after so many trolls.
“Where are you going with this?” Jim’s voice held a clear warning.
“Oh well. I found an interesting… enchantment. It binds the fate of two people together. I told your mother that this is meant to help us against the troll hunter. To know if the other is in distress,” he told her.
“Another one of your lies!” Jim snarled.
“No… just another version of the truth. As it is true. If the trollhunter… or anyone else… harms me… that damage will also happen to your mother. My fate is bound to hers as she is bound to mine,” Strickler said, speaking slowly as to make every word sink in Jim’s face.
“What…?” the word fell out of the trollhunter’s mouth.
“Well… to put it in simple terms… everything you do to me… happens to her,” the changeling grinned. The trollhunter’s face fell.
“You… you did that to her?! Why?!” he growled towards her.
“Among other things… not getting my head chopped of by the sword of Daylight is a rather big reason,” Strickler stepped back, rubbing his throat where the blade had been placed. Jim gritted his teeth.
“What is your plan?” he growled softly.
“Well… a reason for us to be out here… I am suggesting an… alliance. I am sure you have figured out Bular is building the Killahead bridge, to bring Gunmar to the surface world. And I am also sure that you know that changelings work for him,” he continued speaking as he moved towards the outlook point.
“And you aren’t?” Jim huffed.
“Of course I am. It is foolish not to. We unlike your troll friends cannot hide from Bular… and some of us got into service a long time ago. Some gleefully await his return,” Strickler made a hand movement.
“So why are we having this conversation?” Jim said.
“I know that if Gunmar were to escape the Darklands, he will slaughter humans… I have seen what he is capable off and who do you think can stand up to him and his army. You? No… the ones that could left this world long ago and I promise you that was for the better. However, this is not a history lesson. I know that the moment he gets bored… or doesn’t need us anymore changelings will be slaughtered too. Changelings have lead themselves to believe that if we serve him faithfully, we will gain respect,” Strickler stopped as he let out a chuckle. “Can you imagine something so foolish? That those that calls us impure will ever accept us? No… that is an infantile dream.”
Jim swallowed as he looked towards his teacher.
“So what do you suggest?” Jim said as he glared over at him.
“We wait… figure out a way to strike and end Bular. If he dies… then I doubt anyone will be able to bring Gunmar to the surface,” Strickler continued.
“Oh, kill Bular… nothing more, oh why did I not think of that!” Jim hit his head with a laugh before he glared at Strickler.
“I did not say it would be easy young Atlas. If it was do you not think I would be able to do it myself?” Strickler grumbled at the teen’s antics.
“Why are you not going to turn me into Bular the moment I decide to trust you?” Jim asked.
“Never trust a changeling, young Atlas. Do not trust anyone. Trust is a very expensive thing, and it is something that we cannot afford. I know you do not believe, yet the truth is that you are one of us… if only partially, and that is a lesson you have to learn. Those you consider your friends will turn on you when they learn the truth,” Strickler’s green eyes turned towards the city again.
“They won’t,” Jim’s voice was firm.
“Are you certain?”
Strickler’s voice made the teenager stare up at him as their eyes met.
“It does not matter. Even if you tell the truth, which I do not believe, this is just some plot on your part! To trick me, or make me doubt, I don’t know! Anyways, it is not like I chose to have a changeling father if that was indeed what he was. If I am half changeling it was nothing I could control!” Jim insisted. Strickler simply let out a chuckle as he looked down.
“No changeling chose to be a changeling, Jim,” He then said. Jim swallowed. He remembered what Blinky had told him about how the changelings came to be. Troll children… stolen from their parents by Gunmar and then twisted by dark magic so they could take their human form through a familiar.
He looked at Strickler again and there was no words spoken between them for a long while as both of them looked over the town.
Strickler then turned and walked towards his car.
“Strickler…” Jim began.
“Do not worry young Atlas… I won’t tell anyone about your… family relation,” he turned towards him again.
Jim huffed himself up, clutching his hands.
“I am not a half changeling!” he gritted his teeth.
“If you insist…” Strickler shrugged as he sat himself in. “See you at school young Atlas.”
This was his parting words as he drove away. It was only once the car was out of sight that Jim remembered that it was Strickler who had driven him up there and he did not have his bike. It was also a very long way back to his house.
Jim stood there absolutely fuming. He had his phone… with Strickler’s number, but there was no way that he was going to call to ask about a ride back. His pride would not allow it.
“Asshole!” he grumbled as he crossed his arms walking down the path, swearing that he could hear his teacher’s mocking laugh in the distance.
It was nearing midnight when the teenager finally got back to his house. Slowly he snuck himself inside and went to his room, closing the door.
Jim felt as if he got no sleep that night, simply laying on his bed even watching how the light in the window started to flow in, signaling a new day. Jim sat himself up, running his hand through his hair, rubbing his hair.
Slowly he reached out and grabbed the phone, calling his best friend. It took a couple of rings before he heard that the call was picked up.
“… ello… uh… what time is it…? Ugh… Jimbo… it is six AM… on a Sunday… isn’t that… illegal… is anyone even awake at six AM on a Sunday?” Jim heard Toby mutter in the phone.
“I am sorry… just… couldn’t sleep,” Jim said in a low tone. Over the phone he hear his friend sit up listening closely.
“Did something happen?” Toby’s voice was far more serious than it usual was.
“Found out some things last night. You were right. Strickler is a changeling,” he then told him.
“WHAT?! I knew it! What happened? Did you kill our history teacher?” Toby spoke quickly.
“I wanted to. But he has a spell on my mom… I cannot hurt him without hurting her. He could have lied but… the way he said it…”
“Shit… what are you going to do? Are you going to tell Dr. L?”
Jim ran his hand through his black hair and he sighed softly.
“She knows. Apparently she knew Strickler was a changeling before anyone else. He… accidently exposed his troll form to her in college apparently,” Jim explained. Toby remained silent for quite some time.
“That must have been rather awkward… wait… so she chose to date him even knowing that he is a changeling?”
“They are not dating!” Jim insisted.
“Alright, alright! Why did she invite a guy over she knew she was a changeling?” Toby wondered.
“She likes him and he… he has told her stories… not just lies… just he had not told her it right! He has convinced her that the Trollhunter is a murderer out to kill trolls and changelings, which… how can I convince her that he is evil changeling when she believes every word he tells her? Believing he is a good friend who the trollhunter is out to kill this friend?” Jim clenched his hand.
“Uh… yes… that is difficult…” Toby had to agree.
“I just… need to think. Not to mention, Strickler offered a sort of… alliance? I think… I am still not sure what he meant,” Jim fell back on his bed.
“Well he is a changeling, so it is not like we can trust him,” Toby said firmly.
“I know… Toby…” Jim paused slightly.
“Yes?”
Jim remained silent for a long while.
“Strickler seems to think I am…” Jim could hardly bring himself to say it.
“What is it? You know you can tell me anything,” Toby’s tone was serious in a way that Jim wasn’t used to hearing it.
“Nothing… he just said some things and… I guess he got to me,” Jim found he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. Not yet.
Toby remained silent for a bit longer.
“Hey, how about I come over, you make us breakfast, then we go out, find a place that sells birdseeds and pour it all over Strickler’s car so when he is about to drive it, it is covered in bird shit!”
Jim let out a loud laugh at this. His friend really knew how to make him feel better.
“Brilliant Tobes! See you soon.”
“Later Jimbo!”
#changeling troubles#stricklake fic#walter strickler#jim lake jr#changeling!Jim#toby domzalski#best friend ever
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Divinations
This year, Winter hit Hogwarts with a ferocity that reach down into the lake. Icy death crept down it’s depths, separated only by glass from the Slytherin common room. Blaise sat on the floor by the fireplace with Pansy. A mossy green quilt draped over her shoulders, black hair half tucked beneath it. They sat with notebooks sprawled between them, cross sharing notes from Divination class in preparation of O.W.L.s. His handwriting perfected and neat, hers haphazardly scrawled amongst doodled runes. Unfortunately, their combined notes didn’t add up to much.
Word Count: 1182
This year, Winter hit Hogwarts with a ferocity that crept even down into the lake. Icy death crept down it’s depths, separated only by glass from the Slytherin common room. Blaise sat on the floor by the fireplace with Pansy. A mossy green quilt draped over her shoulders, black hair half tucked beneath it. They sat with notebooks sprawled between them, cross sharing notes from Divination class in preparation of O.W.L.s. His handwriting perfected and neat, hers haphazardly scrawled amongst doodled runes. Unfortunately, their combined notes didn’t add up to much. Both Pansy and Blaise struggled to pay attention in that class, especially when Professor Trelawny’s character entertained far more than what she was actually saying.
Especially when Draco’s glasses over eyes grew more distant with each passing day. He was a wandering ghost; A sight that sent a cold bullet into both Pansy and Blaise’s hearts.
Lately, Draco had been cruel. Of course, he always was a cruel boy, boisterous and impatient. But never to Blaise and Pansy outrightly so. Now it seemed Draco didn’t worry about superiority. Rather, he didn’t want anyone’s attention or company even to walk between periods. They all joined the Inquisitorial Squad together, but as the months went by, he missed more and more meetings. The distance between him and his friends was unsettling to say the least. He almost never went to bed. He roamed the castle halls all hours. He didn’t eat. He didn’t even pretend to marvel at the daily magic Hogwarts performed for its students during the Holidays.
He looked like he was sleep walking, a deathless corpse waiting for an initiative.
It sucked to say the least, mainly because of all times this was when friends should be there for each other. But Blaise could only watch from afar. He’d tried to get Draco to talk, but all he got was a shrug in response and more cancelled plans.
“I’m worried too,” Pansy whispered so quietly Blaise thought he’d imagined it.
“Yeah,” he fingered absently through his textbook, “the O.W.L.s are going to kill this year. Heaven knows what that Umbridge has planned for-”
“Blaise…” her dark eyes looked up at him from the scattered papers. He cracked his knuckles, a nervous tick. She wasn’t talking about the O.W.L.s.
“I know.”
“I knew things would change with,” her voice dipped quietly, “Voldemort’s return but…not like this. I quite actually believed it would go the other way. The Malfoys-”
“We shouldn’t talk about this,” he pretended to flip past illustrations of tarot formations. Pansy didn’t respond. Only wrapped her quilt closer.
Far above, they could hear the hoots and hollers of Gryffindors running down the hall after another Quidditch win. All that seemed so trivial now. Blaise admits even he couldn’t get himself to bat an eye when an professor barked “ten points from Slytherin!” It was all white noise behind the politics that plagued the wizarding world. Of course, things would change in their favor with Voldemort’s return, but a price had to be paid. What part Draco’s father had to play clearly wilted him as well.
The two tried to discuss their notes, find any missing points in the text and recreate the tarot readings Trelawny exampled in class. Still, amongst the crackling fire and hushed tones, the conversation lingered back to their friend. The mantle clock ticked on. A pack of second years wandered in the common room. With quick threatenting glares, Blaise and Pansy got the little ones scrambling into the dorms.
“Lets both do a practice reading,” Blaise rubbed his forehead. “I’ll do yours first-”
“No,” she bit her lip, “what if we did it for someone else.”
Blaise nodded his head. Amongst Slytherins, there was a strange bond within their cunning, selfish yet brash nature. Every year had its own wolf pack, kids with spines like bowstrings. Tight and pulled back, waiting for a moment to let go. To release that wound up ambition, usually on the other students. The gang - Blaise and Pansy and Draco and even the two gits Grab and Goyle - never had to ask what each other were scheming. They just got each other. At least, they used to.
Pansy shuffled her deck while Blaise cleared the carpet for her.
Pansy Parkinson always had a knack for Divination. Something about the way her nimble hands grazed the cards fast and violent, but also with such purpose. Her eyes zoned out into another dimension, unfocused, and her chin tilted high. With a flick she placed ten cards faced down in an ‘H’ formation. The Celtic Cross.
Like she was holding her breath, Pansy sighed and looked up at Blaise. He nodded. In an attempt to at least try to study, she flipped the cards over. Blaise would explain the meaning behind that card’s position, and Pansy the meaning of the individual card.
One by one they went through them, but there were no surprises in Draco’s reading. Darkness, expectations, privilege. It was working, clearly, as every reading made sense but none of it gave the two an explanation. No answers, nothing specific enough.
They spoke in hushed tones back and forth like an incantation.
They didn’t hear the clicked steps coming down the stairwell into the common room. They didn’t see the white haired boy enter and slowly step around chairs, shoulders drooping forward and brows low.
“Last card,” said Blaise, racking his brain to remember his notes. “The tenth card. It tells the final outcome for this line of events told by previous cards. As it is based on the other nine cards, this one only comes if the others play out accordingly.”
Pansy moved her hand to turn over the final card. As she did so, Draco came over to the fireplace to stand ever slightly out from corner of the two’s eyes.
The card flipped and Blaise momentarily closed his eyes in grief.
“Ten of Swords,” Pansy said.
It was then that Blaise opened his eyes and looked up.
“Failure. Suffering from an unforeseen event. Betrayal by the hand of someone you love. Sometimes, even death,”
“Pansy,” Blaise said in a warning. She looked up at him, and then followed his eyes to where their friend stood. All she could think was that Draco’s face wasn’t one she recognized anymore. Draco opened his mouth to speak and she almost prayed what came out was something familiar. Something endearing like “I hope that’s for Potter,” or a “You turned the card over wrong, you squib.”
His lips curled as he said, “The fire’s getting low. Better finish up before it goes out,” and turned on his heel towards boy’s dorms. Before either Pansy or Blaise could say a word, Draco was out of reach.
“Already gone,” said Blaise.
Pansy stared down at the card, suddenly wanting to tear them into little bits. Instead, she collected them back into a stack and said, too quietly: “Isn’t he, though?”
#hpfic#pansy parkinson#draco malfoy#blaise zabini#the platinum trio#hp#wiksfam#annassquad#erin writes#writeblr#fic#writing#character study#i've ..never done a fic before lmao but i also want to post my writing more and maybe i post snippets of my short stories too :)#mine#leahsmythfamily
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For Asgard (Chapter 4/?)
It all really began when Loki was only a boy. His father, Odin, The Allfather, had brought up the matter of becoming a King. Loki knew he would rule Asgard one day, he was sure of it.
But so was his brother, Thor.
A brother so boisterous, pompous, and always ready to fight. Loki's complete opposite.
Because Loki was a quiet, studious, and far more intelligent than his brother.
Odin once said to the two boys, “Asgard brings peace to the universe and the day will come when one of you will have to defend that peace.” Each of the brothers was sure it would be him. Loki couldn't imagine Thor being a king fit for Asgard even in the slightest.
“A wise king never seeks out war, but he must always be ready for it,” Odin had said. Knowing Thor, he would always be seeking out war. It was simply in him. If he wasn't fighting someone, then he couldn't be his 'mighty' self. Loki took his father's words to heart, focusing on the latter half of his speech. Throughout the years, Loki read up on battle strategy. It reminded him of his favourite game, chess. Often he would concoct cunning plans and plots, that many would call pranks, in his spare time. Frigga, the boys' mother, even taught Loki to wield magic. She tried to teach Thor, but he wasn't taken with the idea. He would rather smash things with his fists than using these so called 'tricks.'
Odin had told them another thing. Something that Loki had carried with him in the back of his mind since the day he heard it.
“Both of you were born to be kings.”
Loki had always tried to please his father, but Odin never really seemed all too impressed with his dark-haired son. It was like everything he did was never quite good enough for the King. Like Loki wasn't good enough...
It certainly seemed that way upon the announcement of Thor's coronation.
How could it be Thor? He was so unbelievably full of himself! He was not fit to be King by a long shot! Loki knew he had to do something. He, at the very least, needed to delay such a heinous decision made by his father. But how to do it?
Oh...
Now there's an idea. It was so crazy it just might work, Loki thought to himself. He'd have to pull it off flawlessly for it to work. A little bit of mischief, a dash of fun, and a whole lot of treachery. This would be the biggest antic Loki will have committed yet. Was it going to be worth it?
He was sure of it.
Just as sure as he was that he would become King.
The day had finally arrived. Hundreds of fellow Asgardians filled the Great Hall, all adorned in their finest garments fit for this most special occasion.
It sickened Loki.
It sickened him, even more, seeing Thor foolishly parade himself to the throne.
Couldn't Father see how poor of a choice Thor was? It took everything within Loki to keep his composure standing alongside his mother, watching his life be ruined yet again by that bumbling buffoon. The plan should have taken into effect by now, but there was still no sign of a disturbance. Loki grew worried. Maybe his treachery would have been for nought.
It wasn't until Odin stiffened mid-speech and snarled the most beautiful words Loki had heard since this wretched coronation began: “Frost Giants.”
The guests were ushered out of the Great Hall, out of the palace entirely with not so much as an explanation. Behind Loki's innocently concerned facade lurked the gleefully proud truth. Loki managed to force the correlation between the immaturity and childishness of his brother and that of Loki's own current actions deep down inside him. To a part of him that he never visits.
Thor was raging in the dining wing of the palace later that evening. Was it really necessary to flip the table? To Thor, the answer was probably a yes.
Loki carefully slithered out from behind a pillar and sat down next to his fuming brother. He couldn't help but throw some fuel on the fire, so to speak. After all, it was in his nature.
“If it's any consolation, I think you're right,” Loki spoke softly. “About the Frost Giants, about Laufey. About everything. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defences once, who's to say they won't try again?” And then to cater to Thor's warlike tendencies. “Next time, with an army?”
“Exactly!” Thor agreed, sounding thankful his brother was on his side. Or so he thought. Loki knew Thor would want to retaliate against the Frost Giants. So he created the opening for such an opportunity.
“There's nothing you can do without defying Father.” Loki should have heeded his own words. Thor gave him a look. One the younger brother knew all too well. “No no no no no, I know that look.”
Thor explained how he wanted to ensure the safety of their borders but Loki told him it was madness. Sif and The Warriors Three weren't too sure about Thor's plan at first, but if there's one thing Thor inherited from his Father, it's how to give an influential speech.
Before anyone knew it, Thor, Loki, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were at Heimdall's doorstep, the gateway to other worlds. To Jotunheim in this particular case. Loki wondered if maybe he had taken things a bit too far this time, but there was no turning back now.
Heimdall reluctantly obeyed Thor in aiding them to journey to the home of the Jotun race but did not promise to keep the Bifrost open. The Gatekeeper explained that that would unleash the full power of the Bifrost, destroying Jotunheim and them upon it.
Bright lights surrounded the group as they flew through their world to the next, a world of abominable freezing temperatures and glacial canyons. At the moment of arrival, the atmosphere was dead quiet and suspiciously deserted. Thor and his friends gave involuntary shivers at the sharp winds. Loki expected his body to mimic the others', to feel the coldness seep into him as well.
But the feeling never came.
Only anxiousness about forthcoming face to face with the people he conspired with.
Naturally, his anxiousness grew tenfold when the Asgardians finally came across Laufey, King of the Frost Giants, and his people. They seemed rather dumbfounded at the idiocy of the group showing up. Puny Gods, they must have thought.
Thor demands how Laufey's people found their way into Asgard. Loki's stomach dropped at the question and received a knowing glance and demented smirk from the Jotun King.
“The House of Odin is full of traitors,” Laufey told him. Thor did not take this accusation well and growled back that this was a lie.
“Your father is a murderer and a thief,” Laufey retaliated. He continued to taunt Thor. Loki knew how fun that was to do, but for the situation's sake, he tried to talk Thor down from attacking anyone. He tells his blond-headed brother to look where they were and recognize that they were outnumbered. Loki couldn't risk anything more or his prank would blow up in his face. Laufey might spoil it all.
“Know your place, Brother.” That's rich coming from Thor...
Laufey, surprising to everyone, gave them all a chance to leave.
“We will accept your most gracious offer,” Loki told his co-conspirator. He was thankful Laufey was letting them go and keeping their little secret of betrayal between them. “Come on, Brother.”
All it took was one comment from a lone Frost Giant telling Thor to run back home like a “little Princess.” Loki cursed.
That was when the battle broke out.
Each warrior had their trusty weapons at their side ready to wield against the Frost Giants. Thor had Mjolnir, Hogun and his mace, Sif her staff, Fandral with the sword, and Volstagg his axe. Everyone had an item in hand but Loki. He had his magic and illusions. Which worked just as well as any weapon, actually. Loki was able to fake out his opponent with magical duplicates of himself.
A deafening shout from Volstagg echoed across the icy canyon, “Don't let them touch you!”
What could that mean?
Loki however, didn't hear the warning in time and found out exactly what Volstagg meant. A Frost Giant grabbed him tightly by the wrist, shattering Loki's armour. He took a closer look at the hold his enemy had on him and was taken aback upon seeing that his arm and hand had turned blue.
The same blue as the Frost Giants' skin.
Loki's eyes widened with shock. It didn't hurt. It wasn't cold. Complete and utter disbelief ate at him. The Jotun shot him a curious look with his blood red eyes, also confused at what had just passed. Loki took this moment of weakness and stabbed him with his hidden dagger. The Jotun dropped to the ground.
Loki examined his arm and noticed his skin had returned to its normal alabaster tone. The two main feelings that flooded him were confusion, followed by fear.
“We must go!” Loki shouted to his brother, but Thor paid no attention and still fought like a madman. He sure paid attention when Laufey released the beast on them.
They all ran for their lives. The beast gained. Soon it had them cornered at the edge of a cliff. Most of the Asgardians thought this was the end, staring into its hideous face.
But leave it to Thor to rip a hole through the beast. Literally. Right through its throat.
Everyone watched it as it fell over the cliff to its death.
Even the Jotuns, who had crept up on the trespassers. There was no way out of this, surely.
But a loud whinny and flash of rainbow light erupted in front of both parties. Loki's face drained of all colour.
Odin had arrived to save them.
And then slaughter them once they returned home, probably, Loki thought.
The kings of Asgard and Jotunheim confronted each other for the first time in many long years. Odin claimed Thor's actions this night as boyish and that Laufey should treat them as such.
Maybe my plan has worked, after all, thought Loki. He must finally see how unfit Thor is for the throne now. Before any more damage was done, Odin whisked the group home with the help of Heimdall.
The Allfather scolded his eldest son. Had he realized what he'd done by going to Jotunheim? He had created a war and put the lives of his friends and his people in danger all due to his reckless actions. Loki tried to speak up on Thor's behalf only to have Odin snap back at him.
“Why did you not stop him?”
Oh no. Now the spotlight was on Loki.
“You could not possibly think I could do such a thing? Stop Thor? You know what happens when he get these ideas in his head!”
“And who do you think gives him these ideas?!” Odin yells.
He knew.
How did he know?
“I am the Allfather, Loki. I know this was your plan. I know this was YOUR DOING!”
Loki shook his head in denial. He hadn't meant for it all to come to... this.
“Father, I-”
“You have started this war. You are a cruel, reckless monster and I was a fool for taking you in that night!”
The room filled with a deafening silence.
“Wh-what?” Loki's voice grew quiet. He tries to understand what was just said but makes no sense of it. What could Odin possibly mean by that?
“I was going to tell you someday but clearly the time is now,” Odin said gruffly. “You are not our biological son, Loki.”
Loki felt as if he was falling. Like the ground had opened up beneath him and swallowed him whole. He wished it really would.
“No. It can't be true.” Though when the words left his mouth, he felt deep down that it was.
“It is,” the King said. His words were clipped. “Years ago, in the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small for a Giant's offspring. Abandoned. Suffering. Left to die...”
No. No. No...
“I'm a Jotun? A Frost Giant?” Loki said with disgust. The strange occurrence with his skin in battle started to make horrible sense.
“Not just any Frost Giant. Laufey's son.”
“Laufey?” Loki spat out the name.
“Yes.” Wheels were turning at full speed inside his head, trying to grasp at all this dreadful information.
“Why?” Loki asked. “You were deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me? What was the purpose?”
When Odin doesn't speak, Loki cries out in anger.
“TELL ME!”
“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace. Through you. But those plans no longer matter.” Every word out of the King's mouth tore Loki's heart into a thousand pieces. It hurt. It hurt so much.
“So I am no more than another stolen relic? Locked up here until you have use of me? You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?!”
“You were my son. I only wanted to protect you from the truth.”
You were my son.
“What because I-I-I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night? Well, it all makes sense now!” His anger was barreling frighteningly quick. “Why you favoured Thor all these years because no matter how much you claimed to ‘love’ me, you could have had a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”
“And you never will!” Odin's voice rang throughout the room.
Oh, just you wait, he thought viciously.
“You have disgraced this kingdom, this family, and yourself. Loki Laufeyson, you have betrayed the express command of your King. Through your foolishness and stupidity, you have opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war!”
Odin jabbed Heimdall's staff into place and activated the Bifrost.
“You are unworthy of these realms!” Odin ripped off Loki's silken green cape.
“You are unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed.” As Odin yanked the hidden dagger from his sheath, Frigga flashed before Loki's mind. He was sure that hurt most of all.
“You are unworthy! I, Odin, Allfather, cast you out!” Odin summoned Mjolnir from Thor and with great force, struck Loki into the beyond of the Bifrost. He had never been hit by such a powerful physical energy. He was knocked out completely.
At one point though, for a few short seconds, Loki was able to open his eyes. And for those few glorious seconds, he saw a face. A gentle face. A worried face with twinkling eyes full of beauty and concern and kindness. Loki fell back into unconsciousness.
And he dreamed of those eyes...
Part 5
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23. Last kiss - Cor & Drautos
Thank you for giving me an excuse to make this one shot i was planning even worse here ya go~
Got a little long so im just gonna throw a link to ao3 and hope the read more worksas my allergies take me to hell
Insomnia was bathed in light, and it seemed like a taunt, the way the city glowed in the darkness.
“Bring us down before the gate. Best not risk the ship until we know what to expect in the city.”
“That was the plan,” The mercenary woman replied from beside him. “You heard the man, boys. Take us down.”
“You got it, Lady A,” said the pilot, and the ship hummed a new tune as it began it's decent.
“So,” Aranea began, stepping away from the pilot’s seat and making her way to the center of the small ship. “What’s the plan, Mister Immortal?” His brow twitched in irritation at the nickname, and he followed her slowly, unused to having a ship beneath his feet.
“We scout, bit by bit. I doubt we’ll be able to get close to the citadel, but we need to at least take a bridge. Hopefully we pave a path for His Majesty’s return.”
“Our primary goal is to access a library,” Monica added, tapping the notepad on her lap.
“And hope you find something on Chancellor freakshow?” Cor nodded and Aranea shrugged, leaning against the wall of the ship with a casualness that felt misplaced. Like they weren’t about to drop into the ruins of Insomnia in the dead of their new eternal night. In all truth Cor still wasn’t sure what to think of the woman. Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis had vouched for her fiercely, and he owed her for their safe return, but trust was something he hadn’t yet reached.
They landed then, cutting off any further conversation as the ship settled on the ground. Monica took a moment to find her balance as she stood up from where she’d settled herself on the floor during the flight from Lestallum. She looked a little green, but the motion sickness would wear off soon, and she waved off his concerned look.
“Well at least he’s keeping the lights on,” Aranea said once the disembarked. The street lights at the West Gate flickered in response.
“Keep your guard up, those aren’t strong enough to ward off daemons,” he replied, scanning the dark, hand instinctively coming to rest on the hilt of his blade.
“Might not keep out daemons, but I’ve got a feeling that might keep out unwanted guests.” Aranea’s tone turned suddenly serious, and Cor turned his attention up to where she was pointing. An armored figure was strung up above the gate, arms extended and held by what might have been chains. Maybe a warning or an example, Cor wasn’t sure, Ardyn Izunia’s twisted methods were beyond him. In the dark it was hard to make much out, but some parts of the metal shone in the light, just enough for him to make out the almost familiar shape, preserved by whatever dark magic their foe was so fond of using.
"Is that-"
"General Glauca,” Aranea finished for him, squinting up at the figure through the gloom. “Yep.” Poor guy.”
“Did you know him?” Monica asked and Aranea shrugged.
“Not really, only met him once. Quiet for the most part, a bit dramatic, but not as bad as I thought he'd be. Better than the rest of the Empire’s lackeys at least. Well except for me and these two of course.” Cor huffed and somehow managed to keep his eyes from rolling, and wondered if the woman was ever serious. Doubtful, he decided, given what he’d seen. Still, it was cruel to be left in such a way.
“Get him down,” Cor said. “No one deserves that, not even someone like him.” Then he turned his attention to scanning the area around them, watching out for any terrors lurking in the dark, only half listening to what was going on behind him.
“You got it,” Aranea replied and Cor could hear her leap into the air and land on top of the wall with an easy grace. “Oh, yikes.”
“Is he still alive?” Monica called up to her in response.
“I hope not, that would suck.” Was all Aranea said before she fell silent. “Alright boys, I’m gonna need you to brace and catch.”
“Right!”
“Got it!”
“Bombs away!” The second chain broke louder than the first, and the ring of chains was quickly followed by a hard thump as what was left of General Glauca hit the men below. A muffled argument broke out, Cor wasn’t eavesdropping enough to understand, but the sudden horrified gasp quickly snapped his attention back around to his companions. Monica staggered back toward him, a hand over her mouth.
“Monica what is it?” She only shook her head, turning away from him like the question hurt.
Concerned he reached the body, the men who caught having retreated a fair distance after Monica’s outburst. Half the helmet had been broken away and the face beneath it made his blood run cold because he knew it. Knew it all too well. Titus Drautos looked pained in the peace of death, whatever battle corroded the armor had taken a greater toll. As Cor knelt beside him he noticed more, but he could hardly process what his eyes were telling him, violently rejecting what it meant.
“What kind of cruel trick is this?”
“No tricks here I assure you.” Cor was back on his feet in an instant, sword drawn and ready in his hand as he shot Ardyn Izunia an icy glare. To his right Aranea was poised and ready for a fight, and to his right Monica cocked her gun.
“What did you do to him?” Cor demanded, anger burning through him. Ardyn chuckled.
“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” he replied with a sinister grin and made his way further into the light.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aranea voiced Cor’s thought before he could speak it himself and so he simply waited for the answers he was desperate for.
“Years ago Nifleheim took a quaint little village by the sea. I met a boy there and gave him an opportunity, serve the Empire and his home would be spared and oh how eager he was for that bargain when next we met. Killing the king was just an added bonus for both of us. You see, Captain Drautos was against you all along. Almost poetic, isn’t it?” It had to be lies, he wanted it so desperately to be lies. Something in him knew it was the truth, and it made it all the worse. Betrayal stung worse than he ever imagined, but the pure rage boiling forth eclipsed it by far.
“You bastard!” Cor lunged, sword singing as it slashed through suddenly empty air.
“Please there’s no need for that, Marshal,” and the way Ardyn rolled the title off his tongue made it sound like a mockery. “Truth be told I was saving him for dear old Noct, but I’m starting to think this is so much better.”
“You’ll pay for this!” And Cor lashed out again, catching the former chancellor in the middle and. There was silence and for a moment all Cor could hear was his huffing breath and the blood roaring in his ears as his anger dulled to something he could once again control. Ardyn returned soon enough, his expression one of mild irritation.
“I did wonder why you were spared, quite the tragedy,” he said close to Cor’s ear. “But there is only one immortal in this world, Marshal, and I am getting quite sick of sharing my title.” Then he snapped, and before Cor could strike again he was gone.
“Leonis, we have a problem!” Aranea pulled his attention back to the scene behind him and what he saw made him taste bile.
Purple swirled around Glauca’s armored form as he rose from both the ground and the dead, the sickly black of the Scourge creeping over the places where the armor was still intact.
“No more,” he groaned in a voice that sounded nothing like the one Cor knew. Aranea recovered from the shock first, lashing out with her spear as Glauca lashed out with a gauntlet that was quickly becoming twisted and sharp. Pulling himself together, Cor threw himself into the ensuing fray.
“Fight it,” he begged as he crossed his blade with that rapidly transforming arm.
“I don’t think he can,” Aranea snapped, narrowly jumping over a low swipe and twisting herself in the air to counter with a jab of her lance. She was right, Cor knew she was, but knowing didn’t make it any easier, and despite the stakes of the fight Cor found himself holding back. So he kept speaking, almost pleading, and Aranea kept cursing as they battled for their lives, keeping Glauca occupied and away from the others.
Perhaps it was their frantic attempt at distraction that drew Glauca’s attention away, or maybe it was his own words. Whatever it was Cor watched that single eye, surrounded by sickly black, move away from them and towards Monica, standing back with Biggs and Wedge, unable to do anything but watch the scene unfold. Glauca parried his attack, knocking Aranea back with the force, and lurched toward the group with an uncanny speed. Cor was faster. Before Glauca could strike he was there, thrusting his blade into the place where the blackened armor seemed weak across his chest. Everything stopped, and Cor watched in abject horror as the darkness began to melt away, revealing the man beneath.
“Cor?” Titus gasped, voice his own once more before he fell back, and Cor followed.
Kotetsu had struck true, and Cor felt the long blade enter the ground where it had pierced through the armored back it was buried in. Cor landed on his knees, harsh against the cracked pavement, almost cradled against a side he’d once known so intimately. He was going into shock. Quick breath and shaking limbs. A weak hand reached up towards his face and Cor caught it and brought it to his cheek, pressing against it, rough metal against soft skin. Grounding himself with the touch. Titus wanted to speak, a thousand words trapped in his eye, warm grey clearing from the taint of the Scourge in his final moments.
“Glad it was you,” he breathed out, hoarse and quiet. It didn’t make much sense to Cor, but he knew there was a meaning behind it deeper than he could fathom.
“Save your strength, Titus,” Cor insisted like it would somehow make a difference.
With his free hand he smoothed back the dying man’s hair. Titus shuddered against the soothing touch, eye fluttering like he was fighting to keep it open. Wordlessly his mouth moved, whatever final words he had lost with his failing strength. So Cor kissed him, trying to convey everything through that familiar touch. Titus reciprocated, weak but sure, cold lips pressing against his, and something passed between them that Cor couldn’t ever hope to name. It was awkward, the right side of his face scraping against the edge of the partially crumbled helm. Despite the discomfort he kept close, like the gentle connection of their mouths could stave off the inevitable. But it couldn't. Soon Titus exhaled, a soft puff of air tickling Cor’s face, and then he went slack beneath him.
Cor pulled away slowly, vision blurred just so as he watched the man dissolve, flaking away in bright sparks as the astrals claimed him at last. There was a cruel beauty to it, but Cor knew that at least in the end, Titus had known peace. His lips tasted like salt and ash and countless questions that would never be answered. The one thing he had now was closure, which settled the pieces of his broken heart into something that was almost whole.
When Aranea suggested they head back to Hammerhead Cor didn’t protest. The trip back was silent and Cor was so lost in his own thoughts he would not have noticed speaking anyway. Monica’s hand against his pulled him back to the present, and he looked down as she laced their fingers and squeezed with all the comfort she could offer. For now that was enough. It had to be.
#mmck writes fics#cor x titus#titus drautos#cor leonis#hey fam i love you but this was cruel#not that i wasnt already planning this but still
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