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peach-teea · 9 months

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ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ: ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙᴀʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴇᴀɴ ʙᴜᴛ ɢᴇᴛꜱ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ ᴅᴜᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀꜱᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴋᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ʜᴀʀᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴀɴ ꜱᴘᴏᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ

i hope the story is to your liking! @adalia-world

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏ/ɴ?, ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

The coming of age ball. Some girls were looking forward to it. Some were dreading it. Mostly because it was expected to find a husband. Which you weren't exactly... comfortable with. You felt happy the way you were. You don't need a man. You can hear your mothers sigh at that.

The preparations for the ball were... quite exhausting to say. The dress you've chosen was beautiful, your favorite color too. However the tailor was quite snappy so the fittings were hellish. The ballroom looked amazing. Decorated with flowers and other decorum, however your mothers snapping at every servant was... also quite exhausting.

As your mother says, this is one of the most important nights of your life. Your job is to look pretty and find a husband, nothing else. The thought brought nausea to your stomach though. You're not able to imagine a life with someone just because of money. Especially with the way those wealthy men treat their wives. It's still better than being on the streets but, if you can you'll marry out of love. You already have your eyes on your childhood best friend. But there's no way he reciprocates your feelings...

Your neck adorned with precious gems, dress made out of the finest fabrics, shoes from the best shoemaker and hair decorated with pins. Your beauty made even the more.... uninterested suitors as to say, interested.

They all came here for you, problem is, all they saw until now was a picture. That was from when you were 13 so you weren't blaming them for their shock as you entered the ballroom.

Your target was clear though. Sean. You have to find your best friend. Looking around didn't bring any fruit though. You've decided to walk to the table with drinks. Maybe you'll find him there. And taking a sip of something wouldn't hurt either, would it now.

You stood by the table still as you were sipping on your wine. As you lower the glass your eyes finally catch Sean. But just as you have your eyes set on him your view gets blocked. What in the-

"My lady" an older looking man says, as he bents down and grabs your hand slowly kissing it. He looked and smelled as if he already had more than his share of the wine...

"My lord, what do I owe the pleasure?"

He smiles, his touch now feeling slimey "My lady, I was blown away by your beauty, would be shame if you didnt dance with me,... maybe even take me to your rooms after" his hand was sliding up your arm, this was highly innapropriate, looking for your mother was useless though as she was probably just talking with some wealthy folks

The way his eyes were slipping to your cleavage every few moments was very uncomfortable. And also. He was old. At first you thought he could be your father but honestly up close more like your grandfather. Beard and hair with white streaks with crows feet near his eyes and wrinkles on his forehead... You didn't know what to do. Denying a dance was impolite, especially when you were looking for a husband. But honestly you couldn't even imagine this man as your husband. Your thoughts spiralling into the worst scenarios. When a familiar voice interrupted your conundrum.

"I'm very sorry, but Lady y/n already promised me the first dance. Isn't that right?" Sean, always coming to your rescue was looking at you with his usual smile.

"Yes, yes I did. I'm sorry but Ill have to decline your request." The dukes mouth opened again as if he wanted to say something but you couldn't catch any words as Sean took your hand and led you away.

"Are you alright?" Sean asked as he was taking you to the dance floor as you assumed the positions to dance.

"Yes, I mean I wasn't, but I am now."

"I'm glad. You looked like a spooked doe back there with him. Had to go save you." You couldn't read his face, it was his usual smirk but... with a hint of softness. Something that's quite rare on his face.

"I could've dealt with him. I just needed a little bit more time-"

"I know you could little doe. Maybe i just wanted to save you to feel like the prince charming. Saving his princess. Just like in the fairytales."

"You're quite cheesy today." You retort, suspicious of his sweet words.

"Maybe i just don't want you to get married to these dense lords. They wouldn't... they wouldn't see you the way I do." You wanted him to say more. To explain himself. What did he mean. How does he see you? Does he reciprocate your feelings? But the dance ended. And you had to dance with other men too.

Your mother was pushing you to dance with more estabilished and wealthy men. After dancing the night away though you had enough. The conversation you had with Sean laying heavy on your mind.

The ball hadn't ended yet, but you excused yourself and went to get some air in the gardens. Walking around the rose bushes was your favorite. They looked radiant red under the moonlight. You could feel warmth on your shoulder. You'd swear you almost had a heartattack when you looked and saw it was actually Sean touching it.

"Are you still alright? My lady," asking once again, this time you didn't know what to answer

"Of course" lie. You could see on his face that he knows. His eyebrows furrowed and then raised questionably.

You sigh, "alright alright, I'm not doing the best but I'm ok alright?"

"Is something bothering you, little doe?" He finally tooks his hand off your shoulder, damn you actually miss it now, hoping he'd maybe offer his arm to hold

"I just, I don't know. My mother hoped to find me a wealthy, succesful husband. But none of the men i danced with today seem like good choices for me. For my mother yes, but not for me." He frowned at that.

"Not even me?" You could feel your heart almost stopping. He's really going to give you a heartattack this way.

"I mean- you. We..." ... "did you just- offer yourself to be my husband? Did you just propose?"

"Why did you think I came here for, y/n?"

"I don't know, moral support?" At least you made him smile

"My little doe, you know everything about me. Ive told you my deepest secrets. My hopes and dreams. My plans. And yet you're blind to see how I feel towards you. How could I take any other woman for a wife other than you?" Seans voice slowly went out into the night. Stepping closer towards you as he places his hand on your cheek and lays his forehead on yours.

"Y/n, can I kiss you?" the request was quiet, almost as if he was afraid of the rejection

"Yes" whispering into his lips as you connect yours with them. The kiss was soft. Your first. It felt calming. He was here. And not going anywhere. He was yours, and you were his.

A/N- Im gonna be honest- i havent written anything in AGES. Was struggling with school and after all the studying felt very burnt out. Then went through some family crisis and was contemplating dropping out 🫠BUT. Im going to try to do all the requests now.

Hope you enjoyed!

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sillybouquetsoul · 11 months

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Cloud Castles - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: i will follow you into the dark (ao3 link)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 4.8k

Pairing: Aisha/Sein

Story Summary: They dance just out of each other’s reach, but each time brings them closer together.

Aisha and Sein navigate through the dark fairy tale of their own making, one encounter at a time.

Chapter Summary: The Goddess of Rot descends to Hell.

[Continuation of Cloud Castles Chapter 3 - Hades and Persephone's Twin]

Just as she predicted, Anya flies into a fit of rage. Aida cries.

But even when faced with their distress, Aisha doesn’t change her mind.

Not long after Sein left, promising to return by the next full moon to personally escort her to the underworld, the stately garden and its colorful flowers and sweet fragrances lose their appeal. The rotten core inside her becomes harder to hold back by the day, yearning to be unleashed in its full glory, and her anticipation for the next full moon continues to climb.

It’s like the God of Death has cast an invisible enchantment over her heart, mind, and spirit. Anya argues as such, accusations spilling out in a wild frenzy as she fluctuates between spitting wrathful curses on Sein’s name and beseeching Aisha to not fall for this evil God’s tricks.

Perhaps her mother has a point, but does it really matter now? Once she makes a promise with one of the Big Three, it’s nigh impossible to take back her words. Her own home stifles her powers and expression, so a change in environment may prove beneficial for her wellbeing.

Sein did promise that she can return to Earth if she wants to. He offered her a choice.

Eventually, Anya’s anger gives out. She takes Aida with her, leaving Aisha alone in the gardens, presumably to give her space, presumably hoping that her younger daughter will indeed reconsider.

Aisha does no such thing. Instead, she muses on how her mother’s first instinct is to take Aida, not Aisha away. How it’s always Aida who should be protected and not herself. How as soon as she sees that Aida is crying inconsolably, she decides that the best course of action is to comfort Aida.

How even though Aisha was the one propositioned by another God—one of the Big Three at that—Aida is always the first priority.

Rather than suspecting that Sein enchanted her through illicit means, Aisha prefers to believe that their encounter has helped open her eyes just a little more, increasing her awareness of certain things that she never questioned since young.

Anya and Aida don’t return by the next full moon. Aisha doesn’t try to find them.

Sein appears on time. He doesn’t need to break through the five layers of rot to enter the garden; since Aida isn’t around, Aisha feels no need to set up her defenses.

“Good evening, Aisha.” He greets her with a smile.

She stares at the smile, waiting for the alarm bells in her head to sound. Nothing.

Sein raises an eyebrow at her silence. He maintains his distance, but he leans forward slightly, gaze intent and probing on her face.

“Do you still recall our agreement?” He asks lightly.

Aisha nods.

“Good. I must admit that I expected your mother to come after me,” seemingly satisfied that no one else is in the garden except them, Sein straightens. “I wonder how you managed to convince her to agree.”

“I couldn’t convince her.” Aisha looks down, her stomach churning—but not because of Sein. Mostly because she’s realizing that she won’t get to say goodbye to Aida before she goes with Sein. Anya didn’t give the twins a chance to talk to each other. “She’s with Aida at the temple, I think.”

“I see.” His whisper precedes a soft swishing sound, likely from his robes as he moves.

She doesn't hear his approach until she feels cold fingers slip under her chin, tilting her face upwards. The contact is startling, and she shivers.

Never allow other Gods to touch you, especially the powerful ones, the ones you don’t know, the ones who can set you on fire with a single glance. Break away now before it’s too late.

But it’s already too late. Her mother and sister have forsaken her. And what Sein says next, using that same soft voice like he’s coaxing a dying animal to cross over the other side, only throws her thoughts into further chaos.

“You don’t have to hold back now.”

The fingers on her chin spread out, and his thumb rests atop her hammering pulse. He can easily snap her neck in this position and have her soul in his grasp. He’s a primordial God, while she’s the decaying earth under his feet, a lesser God invisible and unknown to many.

But his eyes are fixed on hers, and his touch is gentle despite its possessiveness. He seems to see through her.

“Let it go. Let the rot fester.”

It’s permission; and even if it isn’t his to give, it induces the same end result.

The tight coil in her body, which contains years and years and years worth of pent up tension, of selfless consideration for her sister, of every flower she’s seen bloom in Aida’s hand and every subsequent urge to make it rot, shatters.

A shaky sigh leaves her. Along with it, the heady smell of carrion, dried blood, and dead leaves begins to permeate the clearing. The grass beneath them goes brown before shriveling into nothing. Waves of energy ripple outwards, reducing the flora and fauna down into black soil in seconds.

It happens so quickly, too quickly, that by the time she returns to her senses, the garden around them is barren.

What has she done?

Sein, for his part, looks extremely satisfied.

A lone cloud blots out the moon, temporarily sealing away what little illumination there is. But the hungry gleam in those eyes is visible and tangible all the same.

“Where we’re headed, you’ll never need to hide yourself.”

He holds her hand as the ruined garden melts away around them. There’s a strong chance that Anya will think it’s Sein’s doing, not Aisha’s. No one has ever seen the full extent of Aisha’s powers, except for the God of Death.

She lacks the energy to care about that.

The world reforms, and then they’re standing on wet but solid rock. Sein is still holding her hand.

“Probably best to not separate, otherwise you’ll get lost.”

“I can walk on my own.” Aisha retorts, tugging her hand away. Just because she agreed to follow him to the underworld didn’t mean that he owned her, and could touch her at will.

Why he chose her remains a mystery, but if the legends about male gods taught her anything useful, it was their endless appetite—for wealth, power, and women.

Sein sighs and says nothing else as he walks on. She trails a few steps behind, senses on high alert for strange things that might leap out from the dark. Based on the bare and rocky landscape, they’re likely walking to the gates of the underworld, which are said to be the final bastion between the world of the living and the dead.

It’s strange that he doesn’t take her straight to his lair. Perhaps he thinks he’s doing her a favor by taking the more scenic route. Perhaps he’s testing her.

Perhaps he’s plotting to kill her. The chances are slim, but possible nonetheless. He’d have killed her way before this if he wanted to.

“My offer still stands,” Sein says without preamble, slowing down to match his strides with Aisha. “You’re not a prisoner of the underworld, but coming in and out of it… is tricky.”

“How so?” She asks warily.

“The earth and the underworld are two separate entities. One shouldn’t cross into the other; or rather, the living should never interfere with the dead and vice versa. Obviously, I’m the exception to the rule. But the underworld was never meant to accommodate the living.”

Aisha pauses, staring at the uneven terrain uneasily. “I’m not dead.” She says, unsure whether it’s a reminder for herself or Sein. Both, probably.

“You’re not,” Sein agrees smoothly. “which is why I will allow you a single chance to choose. You chose to descend this time, but you’ll have another chance to decide whether to stay or leave. Just one.”

“Am I the only living god that’s descended?” Surely Carlo and Nemo have descended to see Sein before. She can’t imagine Sein turning them away without good reason. The gods of Olympus have lived in peace for millennia. She can’t recall the last time the Big Three have declared war upon one another.

“You are,” the firm conviction in his tone erases all doubts from her mind. “I don’t permit anyone to set foot inside my territory. If my presence at Olympus is required, I will ascend.”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Indeed. I can hardly believe it myself.”

They reach a black gate. As Sein reaches out, his skin looking inordinately pale under the watery lighting, she hears movement and heavy breathing from the shadows. Something that sounds bigger than her and Sein.

The subsequent rumbling growl echoes off the walls, turning her blood into ice. Sein faces the source.

“Arthur.”

The growling recedes in volume. Unperturbed, Sein clicks his tongue.

“Behave. I’d like you to meet a guest of mine.”

She knows what ‘Arthur’ is, having read and heard about the massive three-headed dog that guards the gates to the underworld. But her prior knowledge proves woefully inadequate in preparing her for the real thing.

‘Arthur’ stands at an impressive height, towering over her and Sein. When it steps forward, the ground seems to tremble beneath the weight of paws that are the size of dinner plates. All three heads bear identical snarls, three sets of teeth bared, drool frothing at the corners. From the size of its maw, she thinks that each head can devour her in one bite. With three sets of eyes on her, she doesn’t quite know where to look.

“Anyone who seeks to enter the underworld must pass through Arthur first.”

She watches in amazement as the three-headed dog bends down, sniffing around Sein’s hand. There’s a small, barely-there smile on the God of Death’s face, the most genuine smile out of any that she’s seen so far. And then it hits her.

The origin of all creatures of the underworld can be traced back to the God of Death; including this deadly amalgamation of dog and beast.

If its master has already approved of her… there’s no reason why Arthur wouldn’t. Not unless Sein suddenly changes his mind and decides that he wants her dead after all. But why would he? In the past few moons, he’s had plenty of opportunities to kill her, none of which he’s acted on.

So Aisha ignores the warning bells in her head, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin high instead. She refuses to be afraid, even when faced with the tiniest possibility of death—and death is smiling next to her.

She approaches the gate. The growling escalates again as she reaches out, mirroring Sein’s earlier action. But she isn’t trying to touch the gate.

She reaches for Arthur’s closest head, hand hovering midair and waiting. She knows better than to touch an unfamiliar creature without warning. Perhaps Arthur can be reasoned with. Past the hackled fur and snarling visage, it must possess a degree of intelligence.

A pause. She hears nothing except for her quickened heartbeat. The telltale muted rumbling sound in Arthur’s throats. Seconds pass, and Arthur makes no attempt to attack. All three heads lower, noses twitching furiously. Aisha doesn’t move. She feels damp breath stirring her hair, and the softest brush of a wet nose against her head.

Then Arthur suddenly stands rigid. With a loud huff, it slinks back into its hiding place, melding seamlessly into the shadows and silence once more.

Aisha blinks the faint wetness away from her eyes. Her outstretched hand is trembling. Her knees are weak, and the only thing that keeps her standing is pure, unadulterated fear.

But that fear seems laughably insignificant compared to the proximity of death. For a moment, she saw her life flicker out like a snuffed candle flame when she reached out to Arthur.

Sein steps forward, wordlessly folding her trembling hand in his. Despite the strangely cold and clammy quality of his skin, akin to a corpse’s, Aisha doesn’t protest this time as she wills the shivers away.

He sounds almost kind. “I think you’ll fit right in.”

They slip past the gates without further fanfare. After Arthur, they don’t encounter anything else. All she hears are their footsteps echoing against the uneven ground, which eventually transitions into a cobblestone path.

Hell is dark and dreary, just as how she’s always imagined it. Under a ruby sky, the God of Death’s castle is a jagged, spiky structure that doesn’t look at all homely and welcoming. Black imposing gates surround the castle. Snarls of thorny vines are wrapped around the top of the gates, undoubtedly an added deterrent against intruders.

Is it really necessary?

Then again, it’s just how she’s always imagined.

After showing her to her quarters, and upon her prompting, the collection of dead libraries—fortunately, the libraries are located a few floors directly below her, which is great for accessibility—Sein doesn’t linger.

“I have some urgent matters to attend to. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Dinner is the last thing on Aisha’s mind the moment she sees the size of the libraries. Sein must have read her mind, because he gives her a knowing look.

“See you at dinner.” He repeats firmly.

“...see you.” She reluctantly concedes.

“Good,” Sein tilts his head to the side. “And remember what I said before?”

Aisha looks at him in confusion.

“You don’t need to hold yourself back here.”

That’s easier said than done. There’s a worn and rusted lock to the door that contains her power, and despite Sein’s express permission—no, encouragement, it’s hard to open that door.

To her, it still doesn’t seem real. It’s too good to be true. She might hurt someone or something. The image of the ruined garden resurfaces, followed by Aida’s face. Her heart twists.

“...thank you.”

Contrary to popular belief, plants do grow in Hell.

She doesn’t recognize any of them, except for the pomegranate trees. They’re small and perpetually bent over due to the amount of pomegranate fruits hanging from the branches.

On days when she wants to read outdoors, she goes to the Serpent’s Garden. The garden is filled with rows of pomegranate trees.

Pomegranates must be Sein’s favorite fruit, though she hasn’t seen him eat one yet. Eating pomegranates is normally a messy and wet affair, what with all the seeds. They stain your lips scarlet, just a few shades darker than human blood.

She knows what pomegranates signify in Hell. Once consumed—skin, flesh, seed, any part of a pomegranate really—you’re stuck here forever. An unbreakable tether forms between you and Hell, because you’ve consumed its forbidden fruit, and now you belong to the God of Death.

Sein doesn’t tell her any of this. Either he assumes that she already knew, or he intends for her to slip up and eat one. Aisha strongly suspects the latter.

Fortunately, she’s never liked pomegranates. All she’s interested in are the dead libraries, which have been a wonderful source of knowledge and entertainment so far. Other than attending dinner with Sein, she spends her waking hours poring over dead books.

Most of the dead books are in poor condition; singed pages, faded script, and missing covers across the board. But they can never be restored, because they no longer exist in reality. It’s a miracle that she even gets to access them now.

So why hasn’t Sein shown his true colors yet? There’s no conceivable reason for him to share his dead belongings without motive. He’d told her once that he wanted her to rule by his side, which presumably meant he wanted her as a wife or consort. The first out of many, Aisha imagines. And yet, except for the countless resident apparitions, his castle seems almost deserted. No other gods or goddesses roam the halls; at least, none that she’s encountered during her stay.

The notion of a celibate god is ridiculous. He must be skilled at keeping his secrets hidden.

No matter. She’s here for the books and only the books. It’s impossible to comb through all the libraries during her trial stay here, but keeping her options open seems the wiser decision. The last thing she wants is to be trapped here forever.

On Earth, Aida must be beside herself with worry. Despite the circumstances, she still misses her twin dearly.

However, the lack of floral scents is a refreshing change. Ever since Sein gave her permission to stop holding back, she lets the stench of rot and decay permeate through her personal space. The release gratifies her, though she can’t help but wonder how things would change when she returns to Earth. She won’t be able to exercise the same freedom there as she does in Hell.

Rot comes on the heels of death. Nobody ever wants to acknowledge it. The only person who acknowledges her power is Aida, and now Sein.

It’s why she relies on books. Reading books taught her that despite her unsavory image and how she would never be truly accepted among her peers, her power is still a necessary part of life. She sequesters herself away in Anya’s garden, hiding herself among the flowers and grass that barely conceals her scent.

A life spent hiding yourself away isn’t much of a life at all—she understands this better than anyone else.

Sein isn’t bothered by her rot. If anything, he seems to find pleasure in seeing her let go, little by little. Sometimes he even asks questions about the extent of her powers, seeming genuinely interested.

“I thought that the God of Death had other pastimes than spending time with me?” She says to him once, puzzled.

“You’re a guest. I’d be a terrible host if I neglected my guest, wouldn’t I?” Sein responds without missing a beat.

“Well, as you can already tell, I’m not lacking for entertainment,” Aisha gestures to the neverending shelves before returning to the current task of putting her book back. Sein can be terribly distracting sometimes (all the time).

“I promise you that I don’t feel neglected. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

She hears him sigh.

“Alright. Then what if I’m the one who feels neglected?”

“What do you mean?”

There’s the empty spot. As she nudges the books on either side farther apart to make room, Sein’s eyes appear between the gap, looking directly at her. She frowns, a little discomfited by the intent expression.

“I have no qualms with your reading. But I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a bit of your time,” He also reaches out, widening the gap between the books on his end. “Because I’d like us to get to know each other better.”

“We have dinner together every night.” She says, slotting the book in place. The shadows of the books shift. A dark, ink-like substance seeps through the base of the bookshelf, expanding upwards before reforming into his figure. He faces her, leaning a shoulder against the shelf, arms crossed.

“You read during dinner as well.” He reminds her.

This gives her pause, swiftly followed by guilt.

He’s right. It didn’t occur to her how inconsiderate she comes across, outright ignoring him in the only hour they’re in each other’s company. As Sein already made clear: he’s the host, and she’s his guest. He visits the libraries to check on her periodically, but she doesn’t reciprocate.

Even though she’s constantly wary and on guard, he hasn’t yet given her a compelling reason to question him. The rumors still live in the back of her mind, of course; but shutting him out may lead to more harm than good, and who knows how he’ll react when angered.

“I apologize,” she says as she turns to him, contrite. “I didn’t realize that it bothered you so.”

Sein waves a flippant hand. “I’m not bothered. Maybe a tad disappointed. Books are surely interesting, but not everyone gets to experience life in the underworld firsthand. I can say for certain that this—” he sweeps an arm around them. “—isn’t written down anywhere.”

He taps the spine of a book, those long, dark nails stark against the slate gray surface.

“I merely suggest splitting your time between different things; my libraries aren’t going anywhere, so get your nose out of books for a bit and live a little more. You have the entire underworld at your disposal; why not make the most out of it?”

She lifts her gaze to meet his. It took a few days before she discovered that his eyes aren’t black, as she was led to believe during their first meetings in the dark; instead, the color lands in between hazel and olive green—reminiscent of Earth’s gardens shaped by Anya and Aida’s hands.

“So I can ask about anything?”

He smirks, hearing the challenge in her tone.

“By all means.”

The next night, Aisha arrives at the dining room empty-handed. If ‘getting to know each other’ is what he wants, then it’s what he’ll get.

Except not in the way he may have expected. She intends to test his boundaries.

“I’ve been curious about something for a while.”

Sein looks pleased with her initiative. He folds both hands under his chin and leans forward in rapt attention. In that moment, she can almost believe that she holds more power than he does.

“Most gods keep regular company to warm their beds,” that’s a nicer way of saying most gods are lecherous bastards with zero self-control. “Where do you keep yours?”

The question doesn’t faze him. Instead, a smile breaks across his face. The silence drags on until she fidgets in her seat and looks away, a strange warmth flooding her cheeks.

Then, calmly, “In the library.”

(Suffice to say that her first attempt backfires. Sein eventually tells her that he doesn’t have anyone to warm his bed.)

“Why is this place called the Serpent’s Garden?” Aisha wonders aloud. They’re strolling through the garden, an activity that Sein suggested after dinner.

“Do you know about the story of Adam and Eve?”

“Yes.”

As most stories go, the story of the first humans ends on a bittersweet note. But Aisha always thought that although Eve was tempted to sin, the price she paid was worth the knowledge she and Adam gained in the end. Heaven, or Olympus, is ill-suited for humanity. They thrive well enough without the gods’ interference.

“This garden is the Serpent’s final resting place. He was sentenced to Hell, so he came to me.”

Most of the dead don’t get a garden named after them in Sein’s castle. They cross over to the underworld and are sent to the river of souls immediately, where they stay for eternity.

“He was a minor god. He didn’t immediately die from his wounds, even though they were very severe.” Sein’s lips twist, as though living through an unpleasant memory. “When he finally passed on, pomegranates grew from his grave. I didn’t have the heart to remove them, and this space eventually became a garden.”

Sensing that she shouldn’t continue this line of questioning—Sein isn’t enthused about the topic—Aisha touches a low-hanging pomegranate. Its skin is waxy and smooth to the touch, glistening jewel red.

“How do the pomegranates taste?”

In answer, Sein plucks the pomegranate. He makes quick work slicing the pomegranate apart with his nails, revealing the wet and juicy flesh interior. His fingers are stained crimson.

He doesn’t offer her the fruit.

“I imagine they taste like sin, but what do I know?”

She learns that Sein enjoys reading nearly as much as she does. But unlike her, he’s had lifetimes to read through his extensive collection.

He reads faster than her; each time he’s at the library, he puts down his book in a quarter of the time it takes for Aisha to finish hers. Upon finding out her favorite genres, he occasionally gives recommendations, stating that they would suit her taste.

(He hasn’t proved her wrong yet.)

“I wish I had my own library.”

“Does Anya not have one?”

“No.”

Neither Anya nor Aida enjoy reading. Some days they even try to dissuade her from reading, claiming that she should take a break from reading because what can you find in books that you can’t find in real life, Aisha?

Everything, Aisha thinks. Fiction provides escape into the fantastical lives of characters with different joys and woes. Some of them she loves and relates to, while some of them she despises with a fiery passion, but they all make her feel. Conversely, non-fiction educates her about life on Earth, humanity’s scientific principles, philosophies, and various belief systems. She learns how to discern facts based on data and research, a concept foreign to deities. If there’s one thing humans are good at, it’s picking things apart to understand them fully.

“No, my mother prefers Aida and I to focus on… on beautifying nature.” Not that she’s remotely capable of doing that.

Sein hums. “How dull.”

“Aida is wonderful at what she does. But since I couldn’t do that, I turned to books to pass time. Haven’t stopped reading since. My mother still doesn’t approve.”

“Your mother is a fool.”

The insult takes her by surprise, and she snorts. “She has her ways.”

Sein isn’t amused, though. He clicks his tongue and puts the book down. Like her, he’s fond of fairy tales.

(The tales without happy endings.)

“I knew I had my eye on the right goddess.”

“You know, you’ve never mentioned how you got to know me.”

“I didn’t? Must have slipped my mind,” his eyes drift upwards, losing focus. “It might have been a few years ago. Springtime.”

She sets her book down to listen.

“I’ve heard plenty about Aida. My brothers are obsessed with her, as they are with any young woman, goddess or not. I usually don’t engage in their games, least of all when women are involved. I barely tolerate their company, let alone their childish fights. It drains me.

“Then out of nowhere, Carlo mentions Aida’s twin. My older brother isn’t picky with women, so I expected him to say something along the lines of choosing you if Aida weren’t an option. Imagine my surprise when he spoke of you with disgust, complaining that you reeked of rot and decay, and that he couldn’t get close to Aisha without you standing in his way. Nemo wasn’t as vocal as Carlo, but I could tell he was wary of you as well.”

He stretches out, draping an arm over the back of the armchair, fingers scant inches away from her hair. She stays put.

“Naturally, my curiosity was piqued. So I went looking for you.”

Surprisingly, Carlo’s negative comments don’t bother her. Others have said worse, and their words wear out overtime. She understands why people hate her, even if it’s for something beyond her control.

“And?” She prompts.

“And what?”

“Has your opinion of me changed in any way since?”

Then she feels it: a gentle tug on her hair.

“It’s definitely changed for the better.”

The dead body in front of her looks nothing like the picture on the coffin.

“Have you seen this before?” Sein asks kindly.

“No.”

She has a vague idea of why he brought her to a mortuary. Every part of her body is buzzing, restless for action. What kind of action, she doesn’t know.

“What happens after a soul leaves its body?”

She squints at him, wondering if he’s fooling around.

“Please bear with me.” He says.

“The soul goes to the underworld, and the body rots.”

“What is your power?”

“I…” Realization dawns on her. “I create rot.”

“Yes. Do you remember what you did to your mother’s garden?”

(She consciously tries not to remember.)

“You can use your powers here, on this corpse and its coffin. You’re allowed to.”

She looks at her hands in disbelief, then back at him. Sein nods.

This, Aisha thinks as she touches the coffin, which instantly blackens and crumbles, a pungent smell wafting outwards—

This is what freedom feels like.

During dinner that night, she bites into a pomegranate in front of him.

He disappears from his seat, dark shadows streaking across the dining table to where she is, and reappears next to her. Cold and clammy hands cradle her face—like that full moon night from so long ago—and then he kisses her fiercely. The pomegranate seeds are drops of acidic nectar, sliding down her throat, some spilling past her parted lips, no doubt leaving a bloody trail in their wake, and she thinks,

This is what freedom tastes like.

#aisha manhua #aisha #sein #aisha x sein #aisha/sein #aisha and sein are immortals here #fanfiction #ongoing #cloud castles #chapter 5

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