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nicad13 · 1 year

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Crossroads: Chapter 10

The Surrendered Soul

Summary: Din and Rayne run into a couple of Din’s “old friends.” It’s horrible.

And yet, it all pushes Din into doing something that just might help him heal.

Notes: Canon-compliant through Season 1, alt version of Season 2. Posting some old fic before the sequel, which will hopefully be complete by the end of Season 3. Start now so you're ready! AO3 link in the Source at the bottom.

More lovely sketches by @catstanbulite

Tags/Warnings: Force-interrogation, execution, blood, sex, Inappropriate Mandalorian Iron joke, PTSD

Rating: Mature

I’m coming up on infra-red There is no running that can hide you ‘cause I can see in the dark I’m coming up on infra-red Forget your running, I will find you

Placebo, Infra-Red

---

They walked together in the Coruscant night, letting themselves get lost in the lights, letting the infinite skylines swallow them up. A Mandalorian in beskar armor painted the color of dried blood, Amban pulse rifle slung across his back, walked side-by-side with a woman, seemingly unarmed, in black leggings and a sand-colored wrap.

Din needed to get out, walk around, clear his head. Rayne was curious about the progress of the Federal district since her last visit a few years ago. Reesha shooed them out, she and Yadier clearly having taken a shine to each other. Zavin, well, he had a new frog leg recipe he wanted to try out, and he knew a receptive audience when he saw one. Already, they were ba’vodu, aunt and uncle.

Din was unused to the press of crowds. He’d been to Coruscant only once before, an intriguing Underworld job that he’d worked with Ran’s crew in the Bad Old Days. Otherwise, he’d made an effort to avoid the Core in general, and now found himself quite literally up to his eyeballs in throngs of people of all species, shapes, colors, and sizes. He handled it fine for the first half-hour or so before it started to wear on him. He endured it for another half-hour because the wide-eyed expression on Rayne’s face indicated that maybe she’d spent a little too much time on a dustball planet by herself over the last few years. After that, his anxiety grew to a level that she was able to detect, so she steered them to a lesser-populated area.

Normally, none of it would have bothered him. After the existential crisis of the previous day however, things were far from normal.

They walked in silence, the rifle on Din’s back mostly for show to make it look like he was working, shepherding Rayne on some sensitive errand. The silence was deceptive, existing only in an outward way. She sensed the churn of his thoughts, though the only specific thing she could discern was the steady beat of “dar’manda” every so often. It broke her heart to listen to, unsure of how the abuses that Death Watch had leveled against him as a child meant that he had lost his soul through any violations of his own. Asking him about it would get her nowhere right now, and he was unlikely to bring it up himself, so she decided to bide her time, assuming there was a long game here to play. Instead, when the noise from his mind got particularly loud, she hooked one of her fingers around his, just for a moment, not daring to make eye contact, not daring to project affection in public, just enough of a nudge to remind him that she was there. That he wasn’t alone.

It would calm him for a short time, until he inevitably started right back up with it.

The bucket had allowed him to get through life with only regulating his emotions insofar as they drove his body language and his voice, and to say that his posture and vocal tones were expressive was an understatement. He’d never had to learn to control his facial expressions, and that lack of restraint was evident in the way his mind was a sieve to the Force. The beskar dampened it with distance, but when she stood right next to him, it didn’t matter.

For a man of such few words, his mind spoke volumes.

Eventually, they managed to find themselves on an empty street in an industrial district, closed up for the night, establishments dark and empty.

Careless of them, really.

The blade was in Rayne’s hand before she even realized it had been thrown at her.

She turned and caught another one before she’d gotten all the way around to see the purple Twi’lek behind them. Rayne and Din both ducked for cover in the doorway of one of the buildings as blaster fire lanced out from the direction they were headed in.

Well, this was fun and unexpected.

Din tossed his chin in the direction they’d come from. “You take her. I’ll handle the blaster fire up front.”

“Sure.”

Din pushed off and hauled ass across the street, drawing the fire, pulling the Amban around, head turned pointedly to the source of the shots. Come and get me, asshole.

Rayne stepped back out into the street. Bring it.

Furious, the Twi’lek threw three more blades. Rayne caught them all, plucking them from the air with the casualness that one would use to pick fruit from a vine. Schooling herself to patience, she made a show of looking at them in her hand, then holding them up as she looked at her assailant. “Thanks,” she said, and then slid them into her pocket.

The Twi’lek screamed and rushed her, growling the entire time she closed the distance between them. Rayne turned half a step back with her right foot, then remained still until the last moment, when she hooked her left fist into the side of the Twi’lek’s head, just to the front of the lekku.

Xi’an’s world went black.

---

Din flanked his quarry, once again finding himself behind Mayfeld as the ex-Imperial “sharpshooter” searched for his target.

“You never learn.”

Once again, Mayfeld screamed, but at least he managed to turn himself around this time. Of course, being a sharpshooter meant he was nearly useless in a close hand-to-hand fight. Din almost felt bad for him when he put a fist through his face and knocked him out cold.

Almost.

---

Rayne watched as Din appeared around a corner, a body slung over his shoulder. When he reached her, he dumped it, this one a human male, next to the Twi’lek. She regarded him out of the corner of her eye. “Old friends of yours?”

“Scar right here,” he tapped the inside of his right shoulder with his left hand.

Rayne nodded. She knew the one. One of the fresher scars on him.

He gestured to the Twi’lek. “She put it there.” He took a long sigh. “The prison transport job.”

Rayne nodded. He’d given her the broad strokes a few weeks ago. “So this is Xi’an.”

---

The first thing Mayfeld was aware of was the sound of wood scraping across wet pavement. The second thing he was aware of was that he was sitting on a crate with his hands bound around a pole behind his back. He heard the creak of wood just in front of him, as if someone had taken a seat on a similar crate.

“Wake up.”

The voice seemed to come from the inside of his own mind, and he snapped his head up, almost against his will. Before him sat a woman with short chestnut hair, just long enough for curls at the top, leaning forward, elbows propped on her knees, hands loosely clasped. Staring straight into him with steely blue eyes.

He caught the flash of bekar to his right and looked to see Mando twenty feet away, leaning back against a wall, arms crossed over his chest.

He looked to his left and saw Xi’an in much the same state he was, sitting on a crate and bound, but still unconscious.

“Xi’an!” he snapped. “Xi’an! Wake the hell up! Hey! You hear me?”

“Eyes forward,” the woman spoke, and again, he seemed helpless but to obey.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“How did you find us?”

“I asked you a fucking question. Who the fuck are you?”

“How did you find us?”

Just as he was working up the saliva to spit in her face, her hand was around his throat, slamming his head into the pole.

“The easy way is I ask the questions and you answer them. The hard way is I pull the answers out of your head myself. So one more time. How did you find us?”

He met her gaze, tilting his chin to indicate the figure to the side. “Mando tell you what he did? He tell you he left us for dead in a prison transport? He tell you he murdered her brother?” The last was punctuated with a tilt of his head in Xi’an’s direction.

“He filled me in on the details.”

“Better watch your back, sister. Won’t be long till he has you hanging from his whipcord around your neck.”

“How did you get off that transport?”

“Up yours.”

“Last chance.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright.”

Din watched as Rayne released her hold on Mayfeld’s throat. Against all predictions, the merc remained perfectly still as Rayne seemed to stare straight into him.

Din couldn’t help but notice a cold chill wrap around the base of his spine.

Mayfeld was pinned between the eyes before him and an invisible force around the rest of him, locking him still. He didn’t even have the will to fight it; fighting never occurred to him. The face before him betrayed no emotion, no effort. With a dawning sense of terror, he felt his mind open before her, as if the skin was flayed off his skull and the bone cracked clean through before the scalpel was brought forth to pry between the folds of his brain. All of the inborn cruelty one man could possibly harbor. All the things he had done. All the people he had killed. All the people he had robbed. All the women he had raped.

All of it.

Except for what she wanted.

He simply did not know how he’d had the dumb luck to stumble upon Mando and his new companion.

The only thing she did find was a memory of a cell door opening, a Stormtrooper standing on the other side of it. The Twi’lek exited before Mayfeld. He turned back as he stepped through the door, only to see the trooper shoot and kill the Devaronian following him out.

Then it all went black.

Knowing she’d reached a dead end, Rayne sat back. “Go to sleep,” she said.

Mayfeld’s chin dipped to his chest and his eyes closed.

A knot formed in Din’s stomach as he watched Rayne slide her crate over to Xi’an, sit back down, and say, “Wake up.”

Things didn’t go much better with her, even if it was a completely different interrogation.

Xi’an seemed to writhe against the pole, as if she enjoyed the fact that she was bound to it. “Did you lock me up here or did he?” she asked, casting a longing look at Mando, mouth open in a smile, running her tongue along her teeth. Her gaze returned to Rayne. “Did he ever tell you how he used to handcuff me to his bed?” She closed her eyes and squeaked at the memory, so vivid that Rayne couldn’t help but see it in her own mind. See them together. Xi’an opened her eyes and locked her gaze on Rayne’s. “Does he ever lock you to his bed? Oh, he doesn’t, does he? Not so eager to keep you there. So plain. How long does he last for you? Hmm? How many times has he made you come in one night before he finally lets himself go? Has he given you five in one night? Five, I think it was. His record for me.” She smiled, lips closed this time.

Yeah? I know his name. I’m the mother of his son. I’ve touched his hair. Rayne held back on the words that were at the front of her mind. She remembered her training, how the Jedi masters had warned her against the seductions of the Dark Side, how it was used to take the truth and twist it just enough to speak a lie and invite betrayal. Regular people could do the same thing with regular words sometimes, and that’s all this was. She understood the truth of Xi’an’s words, but even from twenty feet away and through a layer of beskar, Din’s terror spoke to the lie of their meaning. He had cuffed Xi’an because he’d been terrified of her. He had taken so long with her because he’d been terrified of her.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Rayne said, her voice soft. “How did you find us?”

Xi’an closed her eyes and lifted her chest with a deep inhale, then let it out. “Do you smell that?” she asked. “The smell of leather soaked in blood. His hands still smell like that when he takes the gloves off.” Another deep breath, eyes still closed. “The smell of his sweat mixed with the beskar in his helmet. It runs down through his hair and into his cloak.” One more breath, and then her eyes opened. “The smell of my cunt all over his cock. I was there a long time before you were.” And again, that open-mouth grin. “I can track him across the galaxy.”

Rayne appeared unmoved. “Okay.”

Only this time, when Rayne began the real interrogation, her target shrieked with dread.

Xi’an felt the probe of her psyche, felt the violation, and her mind exploded with horror and rage and fear, howling against any further breach.

Alarmed, Din straightened up as his hand dropped to his sidearm. Rayne backed off and held a hand out in his direction, palm down. Xi’an sobbed, head down, broken. “Go to sleep,” Rayne murmured, and Xi’an quieted.

“What did you do?” Din’s words were almost a hiss as Rayne approached him.

“Surprisingly little.”

He pointed to the wrecked mercs behind her. “You call that a little?”

“You really want to argue about damage control, bloodgloves?”

He lowered his hand, breathing out a sigh. “Point taken. What did you learn?”

She shook her head. “Not much. They weren’t explicitly sent here by anyone. A Stormtrooper let them out of their cell on the transport. I didn’t get any sense that they have any idea who Gideon is. They don’t even have tracking fobs. As far as they’re concerned, they found us by dumb luck.”

“What do you mean, as far as they’re concerned?”

She turned back to look at the mercs. “Depending on what kind of Sith power Gideon has at his disposal, he might have been able to push them to find us, somehow. Track us through the Force. We’ve only been here a few days. The galaxy can be a small place sometimes, but not that small, even if word has gotten around about us being here. I don’t know.”

“That makes more sense than them attacking us the way they did on their own. Xi’an would’ve come after me, not you.”

Rayne nodded. “You’re right. We have to operate on the assumption that Gideon is able to influence people to come after us.”

“What do we do with them?”

She turned back to face him, looking up into the visor. “Mayfeld deserves to die. He’s deserved it for a long time. The galaxy is better off without him in it.”

She heard the click of him taking a hard swallow. “Xi’an?” His voice cracked.

“You know why she’s like this, right?”

He was silent, chest rising and falling with each breath.

“She was sold, Mando.” Rayne was careful not to use his real name outside. “She was used pretty hard before you crossed paths with her.”

He turned to look in Xi’an’s direction. “Can you wipe her memory?”

“Yeah, but I can’t replace an hour-long gap, or make up a reason for why Mayfeld’s dead, or re-write her motivations for being here. She’d realize what we did to her.”

“Can you wipe the whole thing?”

“Sure. Make her a vegetable. That really what you want?”

He bowed his head. “No.”

“I recommend a painless exit.” She paused, and he answered with a nod. “I can do them both.”

“No,” he said. “It should be me.” He drew his sidearm and walked towards them. “Wake them up. They should die with their eyes open.”

She made it happen, and the mercs lifted their heads to his approach. He wasted no time with Mayfeld, lifting the blaster. The other man got as far as opening his mouth to voice a protest before Din put a bolt through his head.

He lowered his weapon and turned to Xi’an.

Rayne had the sudden realization that this was familiar, that she had seen this before.

Her dream. The night before Din and Yadier had arrived at her hangar.

Xi’an looked up to him, eyes sad, an expression he had never before seen on her face. “I dreamed of killing you for so long,” she said. “I dreamed of cutting your throat and taking that bucket off to watch your face as all the blood ran out of you.”

He lifted his blaster to her head, and goddammit, he couldn’t keep his hand from shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“What color are your eyes, Mando?”

“Brown.” His voice broke.

“I lo-”

He pulled the trigger.

At that range, there wasn’t much left. Her blood mixed with Mayfeld’s on his gloves, on his clothes, on his armor. He holstered the weapon, turned, and walked away, head down.

Rayne followed at a short distance, scanning, keeping the path before him clear.

Reesha was there to greet them when they returned, Yadier in her arms, her smile fading to shock when she saw the blood on Din’s armor. Heedless of her expression, he headed straight toward her, arms out to take back his son.

Rayne, knowing what Reesha was seeing, knowing she saw nothing but a blood-soaked, fully-armed and armored Mandalorian stalking towards her, the very same Mandalorian who had captured her and frozen her in carbonite years ago, ran to catch up. She held her hands up, palms down, as non-threatening as possible. “It’s ok. He can take Yadi upstairs.” She knew he needed this, needed to reconnect with their son to ground him back to their current focus. Reesha shifted her attention to Rayne and, seeing the confidence there, handed the baby to his father. Rayne extended a hand to Din’s upper arm. “Let me take the rifle.” He dipped his shoulder so she could undo the clasp on the bandolier and pull the Amban free. “I’ll be up in a bit.” He responded with a nod and left.

Reesha pinned Rayne with an alarmed expression. “Was he covered in blood?”

“Yeah. We had a run-in with some old friends.”

“Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yeah. They won’t bother anyone again.”

“And when their bodies are found?”

“They were mercs. Not the kind of people the authorities are going to open an investigation for.”

Reesha ran a hand through her hair. “God, Rayne. Between last night and tonight… Is he…” She dropped her gaze, then brought it back up. “Is he ok?”

“He’s… rattled, but holding up enough. I think.”

“How are you holding up?”

Rayne let out a sigh. “I’m fine. I knew what I was getting into.”

Reesha lifted an eyebrow. Are you sure?

“He won’t hurt anyone under this roof. He quarantines himself before it comes to that. He demonstrated that last night.”

Reesha nodded. “Very well. Go see to your Mandalorian.”

Rayne dipped her head in a small nod and left.

Before heading to their room, she first stepped back outside and went to the Razor Crest. Keying the port ramp open, she walked up and into the hold, then went up the ladder to hang Din’s rifle by the door to the flight deck. She went back down the ladder and headed to her locked drawer. Currently, the only things in there were her lightsaber and sparring sabers, each in their respective boxes. With great care, she reached into her pocket, pulled out Xi’an’s knives, and placed them in the drawer. She would find an appropriate box for them later. Maybe even teach herself how to use them, at some point. But for now, it was best that they be kept out of sight, from both Yadier and Din. Locking the drawer, she swept her eyes over the hold, confirmed that everything looked as it should, descended the ramp, and buttoned the ship back up.

She entered their room to find the lights dimmed but not off, not immediately finding Din or Yadier. “We’re over here,” his voice called from the walk-in closet recess around the corner.

She found him sitting on the floor in the back of the closet, his back against the wall, Yadier in his lap, clutching a new plush frog that was nearly as big as he was. Din had already changed his clothes and washed the blood from his armor, and she could hear the clothes unit at work from the other side of the room. Yadier released his hold on the frog and held one arm up, asking to switch parents. He always did that – wanting to be held by whoever was the latest to walk in. If Din got up, left, turned around and came back in, Yadi would want to go back to him. She crouched to scoop him up, then sat back against the opposite wall to face Din, sliding her leg next to his.

The closet was large as far as closets went, but seemed small enough for Din’s requirements at the moment. The light was off, but enough light from the main room filtered in to see by. No doubt he needed the shelter to be found here, punctuated by the fact that he’d put his armor back on immediately after cleaning it and changing his clothes.

He breathed out a long sigh. “Well, that was horrible.”

“Yep. It was.”

Yadier voiced a long burble, his tone subdued, as if in agreement with his parents.

“Is it even ok for him to see me like this?”

“Yeah. This level is fine. He knows it’s not all sunshine and roses by now. It’s good for him to see us work through it. That he knows he’s still safe with us even when we’re not feeling right.”

“Okay.” He tipped his head back into the wall with a thud and took another breath. “You handled Xi’an well.”

“Not gonna lie. She was creepy.”

“Yeah. She was.”

“So… what did you see in her?”

Another sigh. “I was lonely. Stupid. Wanted to end a five-year dry spell and there weren’t any other options.”

She allowed herself a small smile. “Desperate.”

His shoulders shook with a sharp exhale. “Yeah.”

She pressed her leg against his. “No judgment. I’ve been there.”

“You said you got along with your exes.”

“I said I got along with all the exes who are still alive.”

The helmet tipped to the side as the words sunk in, but he couldn’t bring his own words forward. Not so soon after what he’d just done.

She turned her foot into his thigh. “You’re not the only person in this closet to kill an ex.”

“What happened?”

“I chose poorly. I sort of knew what I was getting into, but, y’know. Youth and foolishness and all that. I left when it got to be too much. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and tried to rearrange my face. I rearranged his spinal column instead.” Once again, her tone was oddly conversational, as if she was talking about a difficult engine repair instead of taking the life of someone who had threatened hers. “Can I ask a harder question?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Why didn’t you kill them in the first place? You knew your actions were going to kill everyone on Ran’s station. Why spare Xi’an and Mayfeld?”

Because I seem to have a harder time killing a person I slept with than I do with collateral damage. One more bit of evidence as to the absence of his soul. Too horrified by that particular truth to consider it further, he went with the lie he told himself the first time around. “I was counting on the New Republic to deal with them when the ship got to its destination. It was a mistake.” He saw the look of skepticism cross her face, like she knew that it was unlike him to let someone else do his dirty work. He just wasn’t ready to give her that answer, yet. He decided on a tactical change in the discussion. “Your set of connections has otherwise been more helpful than mine.”

She laughed. “This is true. You owe me big time.”

She was right. He did owe her. And his heart ached because he had nothing to give. His soul was lost.

And with it, all consequences of breaking the Creed.

Dar’manda.

He could take the helmet off right now and it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference for his soul. But the thought of it still made his stomach threaten to turn itself inside out. The shame of it. Rayne thought she knew who he was. But if she were to truly see him, she would understand the monster he really was, see all the sins written on his face. She would take their son and leave the Mandalorian terrorist, put as much distance as possible between their son and the dark forces that brewed in his mind before he could corrupt Yadier. If anyone could turn the brightness of Yadier’s being to the Dark Side, it was his own father, raised for war, talented only in the murder of others.

“Din?”

He opened his eyes, forgetting that he’d closed them. Remembering that yes, he did owe her. He would not, could not, give her the sight of his face, but he could do something else. He turned his head toward the closet entrance. “How’s your night vision?”

She lifted an eyebrow at the sudden change of topic, but went with it anyway. “The Force allows me to navigate in the dark. I can tell where objects are, what their general shapes are, if they’re moving. No colors or anything.”

He was silent for a long time, and she almost thought he’d fallen asleep, were it not for the pace of his breath. “Can you see faces?”

Oh. Oh. “No. It’s more like… what everyone else sees in a shadow, I think. My hands would tell me a lot more, but no more than for anyone else. If… that’s allowed.”

“It is.” Again, he was silent for a long time, and his posture was weary against the wall. Yadier was asleep in her lap, face buried in his new frog. She remained still, gaze soft upon his visor, waiting. Finally, Din pushed himself up off the floor and offered her a hand up. “Let’s get him to bed.”

“Yeah.”

They tucked him into his new pod, frog and all, both gifts from Reesha and Zavin. Satisfied he was down for the count, Din clicked the button to close it up, moved it to the adjoining room, and returned. “It’s completely dark in here when the lights are off and the windows are polarized.”

“Is it.” It wasn’t really a question.

“I need a shower.” He turned and headed to the bathroom, then stopped and turned back when he realized she hadn’t followed. He bowed his head. “I’m gonna need your help if I’m doing this in the dark.”

She approached, eyes locked on the visor, and stood before him.

He flicked the light switch off.

It was, in fact, completely dark.

In the absence of light, sound is amplified. In the absence of light, the click of shed beskar becomes a crack. The rustle of shed clothing becomes an avalanche. The draw of breath becomes a storm. Her hands were on his shoulders, rising and falling with each breath he took when he brought his hands up and pushed his fingers through the short hair on the back of her head. “Will you be my armor?” His voice was rough.

“I have been your armor since the day we met.” Her voice was not smooth, either.

“Will you protect me?”

“I have always protected you.”

“Will you leave me defenseless?”

“I will defend you for as long as I am in your life.”

She heard him take one last swallow, one last breath, and then he brought his hands to the bottom edge of the helmet, broke the seal, and lifted it off.

The sound of his unmodulated breath touched her ears. The first time since she had needed to remove his helmet to save his life. Only this time, instead of harsh and ragged, it was soft. Vulnerable. She slid her hands up the sides of his neck and got as far as his ears when she felt his hands around her wrists. Gentle, but firm. “Shower first.”

“Okay.”

She took him by the hand and guided him in, guided him through until the water rained down on them both, washing away the earlier horrors of the night. He fumbled for the soap until she handed it to him, and then he ran it through his hair and over his body, as if trying to shed what he was earlier, undergo a metamorphosis before revealing himself to her anew. She followed his lead, if only to get the blood out of her hair. Only then did he reach out for her, bring his hand to the back of her neck to pull her in, and press his forehead to hers, the gesture he had fought off for so long now finally possible, chest heaving, breath labored even above the sound of the falling water, drawing his nose along hers.

Finally, she brought her lips to his, tentative at first, surprised to find them so soft. He escalated quickly, pressing himself fully to her, allowing her to bring her hands up and explore the planes of his face. The silhouette of him in her mind was complete, now, the shape of his head, one she knew to be enduringly round from before, complemented by a strong jawline and distinctly curved nose when he turned to profile.

He brought her hand to him, breath desperate against her ear. Understanding his strategy, she gripped him, letting him yield to urgency now so that he could afford patience later. It wasn’t long before he shuddered against her, teeth sunk into a gentle bite at the place where her neck met her shoulder. He pulled back and kissed her, and she could taste the salt of his tears.

They stepped out and she dried them both, and then she led him to the bed.

Their custom had been for her to retrieve the wrapped package from the drawer and offer it to him, a symbol of her offering him protection in exchange for his disarmament. The practice had never been necessary, given her circumstances, but he had been unable to break himself of the habit. She was not Mandalorian. This was the Way. Now, after what he had learned, that no longer seemed to matter. She, the enemy sorcerer, protected him better than any Mandalorian ever could. He had nothing to prove to her. He needed no defense against her. To the contrary, he wanted no further barriers between them. Even more, he wanted… he wanted to give of himself to her. It didn’t matter that there would be no seed to plant. That wasn’t the point. The point was to give her at least as much as what he had given anyone else. In return for all she had already given him. For all she had yet to give. So when he heard her slide the drawer open, he reached in the dark and stilled her hand. “Is it ok if we don’t, anymore?”

Her response was immediate. “Of course.” His intentions were much brighter in her mind, now, with the helmet no longer between them. Taking his meaning, she turned to face him in the dark, and pulled him down so she could once more place her lips upon his. “I’ve wanted you this way for a long time,” she whispered.

“Lie down,” he replied.

She did.

He sank to his knees and she felt the brush of the stubble on his jaw along the inside of her thigh as he paid his debts.

Oh, he was way better with his mouth than she expected.

Gentle. Still, so gentle.

He tasted every inch of her. Made up for lost time. Lips soft against her skin, drawing goosebumps as she felt his breath upon her for the first time. For the first time in ages, he felt the light tip of a tongue along his earlobe, and he nearly came undone right then and there.

“Is this better?” he murmured, lips pliable against her jaw. “Without the helmet?”

She let out a long breath, gripping the hard length of him. “All the Mandalorian Iron I want is right here.”

He groaned, a mix of desire and indignity, and brought his teeth to bear low on her neck, more to her shoulder, and placed another longing bite there.

At long last, their connection was made with nothing between them, all barriers removed. She pulled his head close, threading her fingers through his hair, feeling his breath on her cheek. And when her release approached, it crept up his spine and no was longer stopped at the base of his skull. No longer did it surge at his throat, blocked by the beskar helmet. Now it crept up his jaw and over his face and through his eyes and all the way into his head and he felt it as his own when it all came down on them both all at once and they surged together.

A few moments. An eternity. Neither one of them really knew.

He lay on his back and she traced the lines of his face, studying him with the tips of her fingers. Along his jaw. The outline of his lips. The ridge of his nose. The top of a cheekbone.

He flinched when she ran a thumb along his eyebrow, grasping her wrist with the same reflex used against anyone going for the helmet, yanking her hand down and away, the action complete before he even realized what he was doing. She yielded immediately.

“Sorry…” he spoke into the dark. “Recurring nightmare.” The same every time. The sun beating down on him, without his helmet, without his armor, nothing but a wooden spear in his hands, and he’s screaming. Screaming in a language he doesn’t understand, not knowing what he’s screaming about. And somehow, a giant bald man pulls him to the ground, puts a fist through his face, knocking all the teeth out of his head, and then giant thumbs descend to his eyes…

He told her all of this, told her he didn’t know why, only that it started about six years ago of its own accord.

“Fair enough,” she answered. “I’ll stay away from your eyes.”

---

Back at sifting through the data again the next day.

Din had set the Mandalorian history aside for the duration. He’d had enough for now, and Reesha allowed him to keep an encrypted copy to look through later, warning that he was to forget where and how he got it if he was ever caught with it. Instead, he busied himself with a list of bars and cantinas frequented by smugglers, not understanding why it was in a Jedi archive, but knowing these places were often good sources of information, none the less.

Yadier was tucked into his left arm, dozing, exhausted after a day of being out on the town, each of the four adults taking a turn with him in the birikad while taking a break from the work. Reesha had picked up a convincing set of costume lekku as a disguise to cover his ears the day before. While he was otherwise far too squat to pass for an infant Twi’lek, it was convincing so long as he stayed in the birikad. Din was profoundly disturbed by the idea of carrying around a baby Twi’lek, but he’d kept it to himself. There was no way Reesha could have known.

At least Yadier wasn’t purple.

Zavin was looking through clone trooper tech when he made a startled “Huh.” Everyone looked up at him for several moments, but when he merely continued reading, they went back to their own work. He seemed to have gathered his courage by the time he shared an image to the main projector five minutes later. “Anyone wanna take a guess about what this is?”

The image that floated and rotated above the table was a blob that looked like several muscle fibers bound together.

“Looks like bantha jerky gone bad,” Rayne said.

“Incorrect. Anybody else?” Zavin waited a beat before continuing. “This,” he sighed, “is an inhibitor chip. Implanted in the brains of every single clone trooper during fetal development.”

He paused to let that sink in, eyes taking a measured look at Rayne as she kept her expression blank.

Din wondered if Zavin knew about Eagle.

“The chips contained the protocol for Order 66. The clones had no choice but to obey it.”

Rayne pulled her hands from the table and into her lap, lowering her gaze.

“He couldn’t help it, Rayne,” Zavin said, his voice quiet.

Din had his answer.

“It explains a lot,” Reesha added in a measured tone. “The perfect compliance to an atrocity. They were programmed.”

Like a bunch of fucking droids. Din managed to swallow the words before they were out of his mouth. Instead, he slid his foot so it pressed against Rayne’s under the table.

Rayne didn’t know which was worse. The thought of her ba’vodu taking an instantaneous turn to a heartless murdering machine, not caring if he killed her, or the thought of him fighting himself, unwilling to kill her but compelled to do it anyway, his own actions beyond his control.

Which had it been?

Did it matter?

She looked once more at the chip, then returned to her work without comment.

Everyone else took the hint and continued as well.

“Here’s something…” Reesha shared a document up to the central projector sometime later. “A Jedi. He was a pilot in the Resistance. Oh, hey! He’s the guy who blew up the Death Star – Luke Skywalker. He’s starting a new Jedi Order. This could be-”

“Absolutely not.” Rayne interrupted.

Din tilted his head. Of the two of them, he had not expected Rayne to be the one to voice an objection to reaching out to a Jedi.

“Rayne?” Zavin’s voice was cautious. “What’s up?”

“I am not taking my son to Skywalker.” Her voice was cold steel.

“What’s the problem with Skywalker?” Reesha asked.

Rayne lowered her gaze, shaking her head, closing her eyes. How was it that so much of her life was defined by one night? How was it that every hangup she had was the result of one singular event? She was so tired of it. She was so tired of explaining why she was the way she was by describing it in bits and pieces because telling the whole thing at once would just tear her apart. The whole thing happened almost thirty-five years ago and she still wasn’t over it, and that alone pissed her off to an enormous degree.

But here she was again, having to explain how Order-fucking-66 was getting in the way.

“The problem with Skywalker is that I watched his father slaughter a dozen Younglings. The problem with Skywalker is that his father was Darth fucking Vader. I’m not letting that guy touch my kid with a hundred meter pole.”

Zavin sighed, canceling the image of Skywalker from the projector. “Can’t argue with that.”

They worked a little while longer, and Din uncovered a mention of Maz Kanata in his list of smuggler bars and cantinas. Turned out she was also Force-sensitive, though not a Jedi. Her only rule appeared to be “All are welcome. No fighting.”

Zavin snorted. “You’ll get thrown out after ten minutes.”

Din gave the sort of shrug that said you’re not wrong.

Rayne had been silent since the exchange about Skywalker. Now, she pushed away from the table and got up. “I’m gonna go check something on the ship.”

That seemed to be code for I’m gonna go have a meltdown, by now. Her exit was far less dramatic than Din’s had been, so there was likely less cause for concern. None the less, Din watched her leave, then took a measured sigh. “I’ll give her a few minutes and then head out.”

---

He stood by the ladder to the flight deck, listening, hearing her uneven breaths from above. She’d left the door up there open, a clear enough signal. Still, after what she had just said, the memories she had shared with him over the last month, he knew what her reaction to the armor would be. He shed the beskar, stacking it on the bunk, making just enough noise with it so that she would know what he was up to. He finished with his gloves, placing them on the pile before he ascended the ladder.

He found her curled up on the starboard jump seat, knees pulled to her chest, facing out through the windscreen, taking in the view of Coruscant’s nighttime skyline. “Hey.” He kept his voice soft.

“Hey.” She did not turn to face him.

“Can I dim the polarization?” Can I make it dark enough in here to take the bucket off?

She considered. The reason she came here in the first place was for the view. A place of protection that wasn’t closed off. If he blocked the screen entirely, the flight deck would just become another closet, which was the exact opposite of what she needed. “Can we keep the skyline?”

“Yes.” It took a minute to get it just right, but after a while, the brighter lights of the city were muted, the outlines of the buildings remained, and it was dark enough that all he could see of her was her shadow, and that was all she would be able to see of him.

She heard him lift the helmet off and place it on the console. She turned her head as he approached, her view of the indigo sky above blocked by his silhouette. He knelt before her, placed a tentative hand on her kneecap, and waited.

She placed her hand over his.

He leaned in, and she let him pull her knees around his ribs, let him pull her shoulder to his head, let him wrap his arms around her.

The tears were done. All she could do was tremble and breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She couldn’t respond, so she brought her arms up around him, fingers spread wide over his shoulder blades.

“It’s been a rough few days,” he said, voice quiet.

She nodded against the top of his head, his hair soft against her face.

“I trust your judgment,” he whispered.

“Thank you.” She couldn’t trust Skywalker. Deep in her gut, she knew that path would not end well for Yadier. “I won’t let our son fall to the Dark Side, Din. I can’t. I can’t fail on this.”

“I know.” He felt her shiver against him. He remembered Yadier’s choke-hold on Cara. He knew the potential their son carried, both for good and bad.

“I know,” he whispered again, holding her.

---

She took her son out to the balcony, the sweeping view of Coruscant laid out before them, and had a seat on the bench, holding him so he faced her. He looked up at her with those huge brown eyes, ears relaxed, knowing what she was feeling was important, knowing what she was about to say was important.

“I love you so much, Yadier,” her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “You need to understand this. We both love you so much. I don’t know if your father says it. If he doesn’t, you need to understand that he wants to.” Yadi had taken the Mythosaur pendant out and put it in his mouth, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m not good at it either. The important thing is that you know how this feels from us, that you know what it means.” She lifted him up to place a kiss at the top of his head and then rested her head on his. She cradled his little body in her hands, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to feel.

Allowed him to feel the weight on her heart when she thought of him, her desire to teach him all the things she knew, her sorrow that she had so little to offer, her instinct to protect him, her wish to provide for him, to help him grow, help him gain strength, give him what he needed to someday face the world on his own.

“We will be with you for as long as we can. We will give you everything we have so that you can be your best. We know you will be so much more than us. We will do everything we can to protect you. Point you in the right direction. So that someday, when you’re all grown up, you can use all the gifts you have to make the galaxy a better place.”

Din stood several paces back, that tightness in his chest getting a good hard grip on him, as he listened to Rayne offer their son all the promises a parent should make, realizing that he had the ability to follow through on them, knowing she did as well, overwhelmed at the point that she did all this without ever having parents herself. Promising to provide what she herself had never received.

Unable to stand it any longer, he approached, footsteps silent, knowing they could sense his arrival anyway. He eased himself down to the bench, knees grinding, and put his arm around her. He started to lean his head into hers, caught himself, and pulled back.

“It’s ok,” she whispered, not turning her head. “He should see this.”

“You sure?”

She nodded, the glint of reflected cityscape lights shining off of the thin line of tears that ran down her face.

He leaned back in, and with a gentle weight, rested his head against hers, meeting his son’s gaze. Yadier’s face was wet with his own tears, but smiling. Din took his glove off and ran his thumb along the edge of Yadi’s eye, picking up the wetness there, then brought his hand up to Rayne, pulling his fingers through her tears. He rubbed his thumb and fingers together, mixing the tears of mother and son, and let out a shaky sigh, making it clear that he was going to need time later to dry out the inside of his helmet, as well.

At such close range, the beskar did little to hide him from them. The emptiness in his life that they filled, the wounds of both his body and soul that they healed, the steel of his will with which he would protect them. They had held him together when he had broken to pieces, and he vowed to give them everything he had, everything he was, in return.

He didn’t need the words.

They felt it to the very core of their souls.

---

Din traced the scar over Rayne’s left shoulder as she fell asleep, feeling the smooth texture of it in the dark. The short hair on the back of her head bristled against his cheek. The taste of her lingered on his tongue.

Zavin’s question still pulled at him.

“What is she to you?”

His hand dipped lower to trace the leather string at her neck that held her buir’ruk, the symbol of their shared parenthood. The name of the line that bound them together through their son was inadequate, according to Zavin, despite the fact that it was where Din’s thoughts always went first. What was the name of the direct line?

None of the words in Basic quite got it. Girlfriend was just stupid. Partner was too dry. Lover was both overly romantic and incomplete. Crewmember with benefits was also stupid.

Even Mando’a seemed to lack anything quite right. Cyare. Beloved was the closest translation. Seemed too soft of a word for her.

He’d vacillated over the last few days between the conviction that she and Yadier deserved better than him and he should leave them once Yadier was settled, and the hope that maybe they could all stay together, that he would somehow manage to fit in without having to change who he was and be accepted.

The problem was that he didn’t know what he was to himself, anymore. Warrior. Mercenary. Bounty hunter. At the base of it all, he’d always been a foundling. Above it all, a Mandalorian. Now, he realized, he’d just been a spoil of war instead. A Mandalorian by conscription. It all felt so wrong. The need to make it right was taking root in him. The need to avenge his parents and the foundlings with the blood of Death Watch.

Before he could figure out what Rayne was to him, he had to decide if he wanted to continue being a father or become a wielder of vengeance. The two were likely incompatible.

He also had to decide if he was ready to let go of Omera. More and more, he was becoming a different man than the one who had left Sorgan almost a year ago. If he went back without Yadier, he may be unrecognizable to her.

His hand slid to her hip. Not so much a sweep as it was an outcropping of bone and muscle. He wondered what he was to her and realized he was afraid of the answer. Regardless of which one it may be.

Yadier was the only thing he was sure of. His safety and their responsibility, their mission, as his parents to get him to his people. Rayne would do everything in her considerable power to make that happen. And for that…

For that… he felt…

He felt…

Like he had too many questions and not enough answers.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu

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gplewis · 2 years

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April 7, 2021

wondering if I’d rather be punished or healed. Maybe I don’t want to be healthy and good; maybe I want to be a maniac, someone normal people quote, writing for the audience’s Twitter feed, being someone they wouldn’t dare to be — perhaps this is what it means to never come down off the pedestal of distance; maybe the true writer can’t belong with the normal; I can never be what I see, I cannot treat myself to the delicacy of belonging in the mainstream; the unknown is the magnet and it’ll never be acceptable or maybe understood, included; maybe I don’t want inclusion, I think inclusion and community are fake, ultimately another picture to be sold and consumed; I wonder if the only true reality is this bitter biting down into my own reluctance to surrender and bitter truth that I know this is where I have pledged to live, to wring out my feelings as I stand at this uncomfortable distance, separated from God and love...and maybe like the earth orbits and tilts from the sun, I too must do my annual, periodic separation from God and love and report from where I am; my reporting job can never be easier and the job necessarily grows in difficulty as time and life go on. There is no prize for endurance except more truth which is necessarily exhausting, forcing you to take a difficult, unprecedented pivot alone with no one to comfort you yet; comfort yourself later, freeing others from the task — of course this separation from someone who wants to love me is not tenable; of course the question is “who is the book club you’ll share this with?” or “what reader?” I think in my practice, I must keep these questions from being answered; it can never be easy or straightforward, it must need to be reinvented when you get there; you can’t know what the step to take will be two steps ahead: all one does in life is move through the dark with no prior knowledge; it was never otherwise; this moment here and now is the only one, the true start *and* continuation; nothing has changed but you. This used to be romantic and maybe could be; perhaps this is the black and white code (left brain, masculine) and welcomes the intrusion of fire, water, color, sound, uninhibited joy and playful exploration, sensuality, all the offerings of the pure divine feminine which frankly I have been in a standoff and reevaluation with ~ they’re machines for disappointment and complaint; maybe doing the work of living together (by which I mean, any two people next to each other...see, this book is right, the only problem is separation from others and thinking about it, making sense of it, justifying it | this may not be profound enough to publish but anything I write is perfect. This is anything but cliched self-love; is self-love art? I don’t think so but I’m also not concerned, I’ve had years of dalliance with thinking about art and human expression and human necessity, now I am in a middle period of loss of awestruckness and more the messy middle of figuring out what to do with banality, repetition and endurance...write a book called The Problem of Endurance which also would be the problem of Me? It used to be The Game of You; maybe I can make it less lonely by playing it too ~ playing not to win but playing to play with the others because being looked at as good isn’t actually any fun, it’s about playing well with players you look. My problem has always been getting out of Alone.

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feastpint73 · 2 years

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#Twogether #Nick Cassavetes #Brenda Bakke #Jeremy Piven

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tomurasprincess · 4 years

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A Caged Dove Part 4 (Shouto Todoroki x Reader)

Summary: You are a princess from a smaller territory within the kingdom, summoned to the castle to meet with the heir of the throne in the absence of your parents. You think it will simply be a routine trip, until you realize that Prince Shouto has his own plans for you. Whether you agree with them or not.

Pairing: Prince Shouto Todoroki x Reader Rating: E+ Word Count: 6.5k Chapter Warnings: Dubcon, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, breeding, praise kink, obsession, yandere Series Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, breeding, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stalking, yandere Note: Fairy Tale AU. (Still more Grimm than Disney). This took longer than I expected because it expanded beyond my expectations and I got a bit stuck. But I’m rather proud of how this chapter turned out. After this part, there will only be one more part and then this series will be finished! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and find that it was worth the wait.

One || Two || Three || Four || Five (Finale)

It doesn't seem real as the palace erupts into a whirlwind of activity, the entire castle preparing for a royal wedding. In fact, it is the first royal wedding in years, as all of Prince Shouto's siblings have yet to marry.

It doesn't seem real that you have a wedding planner taking you through all aspects of the wedding, through the gown fitting, for the decorations, for the reception. So many choices in such little time that it has left your head spinning.

It doesn't seem real that you don't know how your parents are doing, don't know if they're even still alive and if you're doing this all for nothing. That he won't take you to see them, that he shrugs off the question every time you ask him, under the guise of not wanting to stress you before your big day.

And it certainly doesn't seem real as you're waiting to walk down the aisle, wedding music playing in the background and a smiling Prince Shouto Todoroki standing at the end.

His smile looks genuine, beaming and radiant as if this is simply a traditional wedding with a normal husband and wife. But you know full well the darkness that lay behind that smile, know how utterly wrong this whole thing is.

You pause for a second before you begin to walk down the aisle, mind running through all the scenarios that could get you out of this situation. But you know there is nothing left, nothing to stop this from happening. You pause for another second as you internally weep at the lost opportunities. At the thought that your father is still in a dungeon somewhere, unable to walk you down the aisle or watch his only daughter get married. At the thought that the one you truly wanted was murdered by the very man you're about to marry.

You take a deep breath as the wedding march begins to play and you start to walk down the aisle. All eyes are on you, smiling at the chance to watch such a historic event. You want to scream at them, to claw at their eyes until they're forced to acknowledge that something is very wrong here. But you don't. You simply plaster on a fake smile as you glance at each of them, noticing that nobody from your lands is in attendance at this event, no familiar faces to cling to.

You don't know why you would have expected any differently. Prince Shouto is determined to isolate you, take away everyone in your life that you could cling to for support or comfort, leaving only him for you to rely on.

You make it to the end of the aisle far too quickly and take up your place beside Prince Shouto. His gaze, to an outsider's perspective, may look loving. And perhaps it is. But it's also stark possession and obsession, with just a hint of triumph that he is about to get everything that he wanted.

"Now face each other and hold hands," the priest smiles gently. Prince Shouto instantly listens, turning to you and grabbing your hands as he pulls you just a bit closer. His grip is just a shade too hard, as if he's worried you'll run at the last minute. He has nothing to worry about. You know that there's no escape.

You glance over at the priest and wonder if he knows the truth of this sham of a wedding, if he would help you if he did know the truth. But you suspect that he genuinely does not. His happiness at being called to lead this occasion radiates out from him. But you know you've been fooled before. Nobody is to be trusted in this court.

"Prince Shouto Todoroki and Princess, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

"I have come freely and without reservation," the Prince says with no hesitation. As he finishes the sentence and it becomes your turn, you feel your hands being gripped even tighter, this time to the point of pain. You're barely able to conceal your wince, to prevent everyone staring at the happy couple from seeing. The grip is a warning, telling you that you need to continue playing your part or there will be consequences.

"I have come freely and without reservation," you reply, a fake smile plastered on your face with your tone as happy as you can manage. Internally, you're screaming.

"Will you honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"

As before, the Prince instantly agrees, and it becomes your turn. This time the agreement comes more naturally to you. "I will."

"Will you accept children lovingly and bring them up according to the law of the Todoroki Court?"

A bolt of panic runs through you, freezes your veins as your thoughts scatter away into nothing. How stupid to forget this part of the vow, to be surprised in front of such a large crowd. Your family's lives depend on you making it through this ceremony, of pretending you are happy to be getting married.

Prince Shouto is not taken aback at all by this question. Of course he wouldn't be, he had to have expected it. You wonder if you imagine the dark laughter in his voice as he agrees. But when the priest's eyes turn to you for your agreement, you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye and realize one thing. He's amused by this. Amused at your discomfort, at seeing you be forced to surrender to him.

"I will," you barely grit out between clenched teeth. The audience doesn't seem to notice your hesitance, or they least attribute it to nervousness from being married in front of such a large crowd. The priest doesn't notice either, smiling at you as he begins to instruct on the words for the next part of the ceremony.

"I, Prince Todoroki, take you to be my wife for all of time. I swear to be true to you and only you, to have and to hold, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only onto me. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Forever and ever."

Your heart sinks into your chest at hearing those wedding vows. You know they are not traditional to the royal family, having learned about them as part of your nobility and etiquette lessons. Surely someone must notice that something is wrong. But as you scan around the church, you see everyone gazing at you with looks of adoration. Some even coo at each other in soft whispers about how sweet this is, how clearly you're in love with each other.

You're brought back to reality as Prince Shouto digs his nails into the underside of your hand, warning you to pay attention. To recite the final words that will leave you bound to him, with no hope of ever breaking up the marriage. Royals divorcing or separating from each other simply does not happen.

"I, Princess Todoroki, give myself to Prince Shouto, to be my husband, to be yours for all of time. I swear to be true to you and only you, to have and to hold, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, keep you only onto me. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. Forever and ever."

You are not even surprised at this point to find that nobody notices the difference in your vows. Even the priest doesn't seem to find it strange, as he claps his hands together in joy and says the words you've been dreading to hear.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride."

Shouto wastes no time crossing the distance, wrapping an arm around you and dipping you as he claims your lips in a dominant and possessive kiss. It is far past the etiquette of court and downright immodest for a royal wedding. But everyone simply chuckles, commenting that Prince Shouto is so in love with his bride that he couldn't help but get carried away.

He lifts you up and pulls you into his arms, leaning down to whisper something that causes your whole body to shiver. "Now, you're mine forever, Princess," he chuckles darkly. "I told you I always get what I want."

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Everything becomes a blur of motion and activity after that. You're ushered away from the wedding chapel and into a separate room as you're freshened up by more servants than you know what to do with. They touch up your makeup, fix any hairs that have fallen from your elaborate hairstyle, and put the train of your wedding dress up into a bustle to dance freely at the reception. As they finish, a beautiful woman with silver hair and a kind smile on her face enters the room. She dismisses the servants with a wave of her hand before turning to face you.

"You're Queen Rei Todoroki." You instantly move to get off the platform where they had you as your dress was being worked on so that you can curtsy, but the woman shakes her head.

"That's not necessary." She examines you closely, walking around to admire your wedding dress. You don't say a thing, too intimidated at making a wrong move or giving away the reality of the situation.

"I know what you're going through," she says calmly. "I know this wedding is against your will."

Your eyes widen as you stare at her, wondering if this is some horrible trap. You keep your mouth shut in fear of saying the wrong thing.

"The same thing happened to me, you know. Enji forced me to marry him as well. The whole of the royal family knows what's happening."

"Then why is Shouto doing the same to me," you blurt out, "and why are you all letting this happen?" Fear slices through you as you slam your hand over your mouth, as if to keep more words from slipping out. What you just said, the tone you used could mean severe consequences when used against the Queen of the Todoroki empire.

"You don't have to fear me," she sighs as she takes in your panicked look. "And as for why we're allowing this, well. The answer is that no one here has any real power beyond Enji. And Shouto also has a bit more power than the rest of us as heir to the throne. And as for why, well, that one should be obvious."

"Obvious how? It's not obvious to me," you say in shock. "I never expected any of this."

"It's obvious because Shouto has been pressured into taking a wife for several years now, and he refused every single time."

"Then why now, and why me?"

"It's because of you that he refused, Princess."

At your confused expression, Queen Rei lets out a sigh. "He refused because the King was trying to match him with other princesses. One more beneficial to the country. But he only has eyes on you. It's always been you for him."

Your mind reels at the implications of this statement. "I wondered," you murmur quietly, "why Shouto chose me, from a smaller territory with little to offer, instead of someone more useful to the kingdom."

She gives a quick nod. "You're a smart woman. That is exactly why. And recently, Enji ruled that Shouto had to take a bride or lose his right to inherit the throne."

You let out a small gasp at that. "Prince Touya abdicated, so that would mean Prince Natsuo, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, and Shouto was not about to let that happen. He wants to rule this kingdom, to be the most important of the country. But your parents kept refusing offers of marriage. So he had to take desperate methods."

You cross your arms over your chest as you glare at her, anger at her building. "It still doesn't excuse any of this."

"No, of course not. But I wanted you to know the truth before you get thrown headfirst into the lion's den of court life."

Your anger deflates just as quickly as it came. There is no use in getting angry at someone who has no control over this situation and is at least trying to be honest with you. You don't thank the Queen, but you do give her a quick nod to show your appreciation.

"Good. I'll have the servants escort you to the reception hall." -------

As the servants lead you through multiple twisting hallways, you have the first opportunity of the day to take a breather and think about what's happened. You're married now. Officially. You have become Princess Todoroki, wife of the heir to the throne and future Queen. Like Queen Rei, however, you doubt that you'll have real power even when Shouto ascends to the throne.

You finally make it to the reception hall, where Shouto is waiting so that you can be officially announced as a married couple and walk in together. He smiles at you as he pulls you closer. "You're going to behave at the reception, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. There's nothing to be done anyway. Not anymore. You made sure of that."

He gives a deep chuckle. "Glad you finally came to accept it. Now let's go, the announcement is about to happen."

You walk through the ornate double doors of the reception hall to face a massive crowd of royalty and nobility, eagerly awaiting the opportunity to greet you both.

"Everyone, please welcome the happy couple, Prince and Princess Todoroki, future heirs to the throne of the Todoroki Empire!"

As you walk arm in arm with your new husband, you feel a level of despair you never knew you could reach. All of the noblewomen have smiles on their faces, but behind those smiles hide pure envy, even hatred. Envy that you were the one married to Prince Shouto and the one that will be Queen alongside him. Hatred that such a lowly noble as you has received the honor instead of them with their more blue blood backgrounds. If only they knew, you think bitterly.

On the other hand, the men also look on with envy. But it's envy directed at Prince Shouto, the man that they consider as having it all. The most handsome in the kingdom, heir to the throne, and now married to someone as beautiful as you. But you notice that they refuse to look you in the eyes, as if they're scared. You sneak a glance at your husband and see that his gaze turns cold whenever he feels someone has stared for just a hair too long. His gaze turns even colder as he turns and sees something.

"Well well well, you're the princess who caused my little brother to lose all sense," a profoundly sarcastic voice says from behind you. He has dark hair and glittering turquoise eyes, along with facial and hand burns that appear to go up under his clothes beyond the parts you can see.

He circles you like a shark circling prey, blatantly ogling you from head to toe before turning to Prince Shouto and smirking. "Gotta admit, I can see why. She's hot enough to be worth pissing the old man off."

"Your comments are unnecessary, Touya," Shouto grits out between clenched teeth. "I didn't marry her to piss him off."

With that name, you can now place the man in front of you: Prince Touya, the oldest of the Todoroki family, who should be heir to the throne. But the black sheep of the family never wanted responsibility and had deliberately ruined his chance years ago. The incident that caused his abdication from the throne has been hotly debated and believed to be what caused his burn scars.

"But it was a nice side benefit, wasn't it?" Prince Touya simply shrugs before leering at you. "And I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that -"

"Seriously Touya, do you always have to be so crude?" A larger, muscular silver-haired man sighs in exasperation as he appears behind Prince Touya. "I apologize for my brother, Princess. Although he is right on one thing, pissing off our dear old dad is always a nice side benefit."

"Something that all three of us can agree on, Natsou," Shouto remarks as he pulls you slightly closer into him, as if trying to stake his claim on you in front of his two brothers.

"All three of you need to behave and act like an actual family in front of the public," a feminine voice scolds. A small woman with silver hair streaked with red gives you a kind smile. "I don't think we've gotten to meet yet. I'm Princess Fuyumi, the only daughter in the family." She gives you a deep curtsy. "That makes us sisters now."

"We'll never be sisters," the words spill out before you can even think to stop them. Your eyes widen as you glance over at your husband to see his reaction. He does not look as furious as you thought he would be, choosing instead to glare at his oldest brother, who is snickering at your response.

"I know your circumstances for joining this family are unique, but that doesn't mean you have to be rude. I promise you'll get used to all of this and learn to love Shouto and the rest of the family."

You hear Prince Touya snicker again at the comment, while Prince Natsuo simply scoffs. Shouto says nothing, merely looking at you to gauge your reaction.

"Unique circumstances are putting it lightly," you say with a certain amount of caution. "But I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it." You leave out the part where you don't think you'll ever love any of them. It won't do you any favors to mention that.

"Don't be silly, of course you will. Mom did, and now she's very happy," Princess Fuyumi reassures you. Having met Queen Rei for all of 10 minutes, you strongly doubt this statement but choose not to push your luck in refuting it.

"Still living in a fairy tale where everything is just fine with this family, are you," Prince Natsuo's voice comes out bitter.

Prince Touya gives a deep chuckle. "Hey, if she wants to live in a world where the royal family isn't fucked up, then let her be naive. We still know how rotten royalty really is."

"Enough, all of you," a deep, booming voice rings out. "You are all still of the Todoroki bloodline, and you will act like it in public."

You instantly know who that voice is without looking. You had always heard that King Enji was a large man, but you were not prepared for the reality. This man is enormous, tall and bulky, with flames decorating his face and body. There does not seem to be an ounce of fat on him, his frame looking like pure muscle. A scowl decorates his face, and you are thankful that it is not yet directed at you and hope that it will stay that way.

But nothing in your life has been lucky so far, and so you freeze when the man turns his scowl on you. You think his expression softens for just a second as he glances between you and your husband, but you can't be sure that you don't imagine it as it vanishes before you can put words to what you saw.

"So, you're my new daughter-in-law." He studies you carefully, as if to figure out what Shouto sees in you. "As my son, Shouto is above his peers and could have had any woman in the kingdom. What made him choose you?"

After a moment's pause, you realize this question is directed at you, and he expects you to answer it. "I beg your pardon, King Enji, but even I am unsure. There must have been better options than me." You know that it's useless at this point to try and get out of this marriage, but you figure that it can't hurt to be on your father-in-law's good side. As the King of the realm, he could make your existence more of a living nightmare than it is already.

"Well, at least you know your place," he gives a sardonic chuckle at your diplomatic response. "You're attractive enough, and your quirk isn't so bad that your children couldn't have a strong combination from the two of you. He could have done worse, I suppose."

The reminder of children leaves you feeling shaky and nervous, and you barely stop yourself from taking a step back from the overwhelming scrutiny of King Enji's gaze. His presence is so strong, so intimidating, that it almost feels like a physical weight against your skin. You only feel able to breathe again when Enji turns to walk away.

"Now, I must attend to my wife and play nice with the commoners for a bit longer. You don't have to, though." He gives a meaningful glance at his son. Prince Shouto's lips curve up into a devious smirk as he nods at his father.

As he finally leaves, you finally relax a bit. You realize that at some point during that conversation, you tucked yourself even closer against Prince Shouto, as if you trusted him to protect you from his very own father. You quickly glance up at his face, hoping that he didn't notice, but when you see his satisfied grin, you know that he did.

Prince Touya sees the exchange between his father and brother and can't stop a laugh from bubbling up. "Yes, Shouto, why are you even still here? Shouldn't you be attending to your new wife now?" The emphasis on attending leaves little doubt on what he means. "Maybe you need some help? I'd be glad to -"

There's a grunt of pain from Prince Touya as Prince Natsuo gives you an apologetic smile before pulling his brother away from the two of you. Princess Fuyumi smiles politely at the two of you, waving her goodbye as she moves to follow her brothers. Prince Shouto ignores them completely as he turns to you.

"My beautiful wife," Shouto murmurs in your ear, "don't you think it's time to retire to the bed chamber?" Your blood runs cold at his words. You did not consider yourself foolish, as you knew this would be coming. But you did not expect it to be quite so soon. Maybe you really are, you muse to yourself, if you genuinely believed that he would wait for you a moment longer than he had to.

"But what about the reception?" You try to pull him towards the crowd of people again in hopes that he will be distracted, but he does not budge. "Don't you want to mingle a bit more? I'm sure more people want to meet with us" He simply smirks at you as he interlocks his arm with yours and pulls you even further away from the party-goers. "You heard my father. He all but dismissed me. And even if he hadn't - I don't care," he shrugs.

"All I want is you right now." You give up trying to pull away, realizing there is no use when he is so determined, and simply let yourself be guided away from the Grand Hall and down multiple winding hallways. He walks so confidently through them, knowing them like the back of his hand, and you soon find yourself standing outside of a massive, ornate red and white door inlaid with gold trim.

Prince Shouto's quarters. And now your quarter as well.

He pushes open the door smoothly before ushering you inside, locking the door behind him and wasting no time pulling you in for a heated kiss. He's possessive and dominating, devouring your mouth and massaging your tongue with his own. He reaches around to grab your ass, pulling you even closer into him and grinding his hips against your own.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, my wife," he sighs wistfully. "I have wanted you for so long, and now you're all mine."

He kisses down your jawline, licking and biting at the skin and sucking hard on your pulse point, hard enough that you know it'll leave a bruise. Your heartbeat is frantic as he continues to lick at your skin, trailing his tongue down the column of your neck.

He reluctantly pulls away from you, leading you further into the bed chambers and twirling you around so that he can begin unhooking your wedding dress. He struggles briefly with the complicated fastenings and buttons that make up the dress, and you can't stop a soft laugh.

"Do you need to call someone in and help with that?" You snark at him. "I was told it was rather difficult to get me into it."

Shouto lets out a small growl as you feel a flash of heat against your back, and a ripping sound as he pulls apart the now burnt ribbons and begins to slide your dress down.

"Do you know how expensive that thing was," you say in a shocked tone. From what you could tell, that dress was worth several years of salary from your whole kingdom, let alone your family.

"I'll buy you another dress, hell I'll buy you ten more dresses. But right now, I need to see you." He trails his hot fingertips down your now bare back, causing you to shiver and goosebumps to rise as he follows them up with cold. "I need to be inside of you, wife," he whispers seductively into your ear, and you can't stop the bolt of lust that runs through you.

He chuckles as he feels you tremble, pulling your dress down to the floor and coaxes you into stepping out of it. You stand in only your wedding lingerie, a fancy white ensemble that does nothing to cover your assets. He bites his lip and lets out a low groan as he takes in your appearance before lifting you up and gently placing you on the bed.

"God, you're even more beautiful than I imagined," he murmurs as he runs his hands up your sides. He steals another kiss before making his way down your body, kissing every inch of your heated skin until he makes his way to your breasts. He unhooks your bra with relative ease compared to the dress and wastes no time kneading the soft flesh there. He presses a nipple between two fingers, causing you to let out a soft gasp as he takes the other nipple into his mouth. He applies just the right amount of suction as he laps at you and works them into hardness.

You feel your panties begin to get wet, your skin feeling like it's on fire as he works your body like he already knows it. A finger slips underneath your panties as he traces a cold finger across your folds, causing you to buck away from the sudden sensation. He laughs as he slides down you, ripping your panties apart as if he can't even be bothered to waste time removing them.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, princess." He pushes your thighs apart as he examines you, causing you to burn with embarrassment and try to close your legs. He grips your thighs just a shade too roughly, nails digging into your skin as he snarls. "Don't ever hide yourself from me."

You give a quick nod as you slowly reopen your legs, and he slots himself in between them as he teases your folds with two fingers. "Fuck, you taste so good," he groans when he leans in to lick a wet stripe up them, beginning to devour your juices like a man starved.

You instinctively try to squirm away, the feeling so utterly foreign to you. But Shouto simply tightens his grip on your thighs again, hard enough to bruise as he growls at you. "Stay put, princess. You don't want me to have to tie you down, now do you?"

"N-n-no," you stutter, although whether it's in embarrassment or excitement, even you can't tell. "I'll be good."

He grins at your submissive reply before diving back in between your legs, lapping at your folds before spreading them open with one hand. He attaches himself to your clit, and you throw your head back at the intense sensations running through your body. You have never felt this good, never had anyone touch you so intimately. You reach down to tangle your fingers into his hair, bucking your hips up towards his hungry mouth.

He chuckles at your eagerness, the vibration of it only adding to your pleasure as you feel something building up inside of you. "Shouto, please," you groan, "don't stop, it feels so good."

He slips a finger inside your tight heat at your words, curling it upwards to press against your wet insides. You can't contain your gasps of pleasure, hand tightening against his hair even harder as you try to ground yourself.

Shouto doesn't seem to mind, choosing to suckle even harder on your clit while adding another finger and scissoring you apart at the same time. You realize with a flash of arousal that goes straight to your pussy that he's practically humping the bed as he eats you out, groaning at the friction against his rock hard cock.

The sight of it causes the pressure inside you to finally snap, tearing a moan of pleasure from your throat as you clench down around his fingers. He doesn't stop at your orgasm, continuing to thrust his fingers inside of you as he finds a spot that has you screaming out your pleasure to the room. You're overwhelmed by how good it feels, your first orgasm quickly followed up by your second as your body quivers. Your pussy gushes around Shouto's ruthless fingers, but you can't bring yourself to feel ashamed when he simply continues to lap up your juices as they squirt out of you.

You collapse fully back against the bed, unable to stop the shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Shouto finally removes his fingers, pulling away to smirk down at your blissed out look as he licks his fingers clean. You briefly wonder if he expects you to return the favor, and you find yourself asking the question before you can stop yourself. "Do you - I mean, do I need -"

Even though you can't bring yourself to finish the question, he understands your meaning anyway. "As much as I'd love your mouth on my cock, I'd much rather be inside of you already."

He quickly begins to undress, tearing clothes off when he can't remove them fast enough. His urgency has your pussy clenching, and you do nothing but watch until he stands in front of you completely naked. You can barely stop drooling as you take in his form. He is more muscular than you expected under his clothes, with very little body hair covering his chest. You trail your eyes lower until you see his cock, long, girthy, and already fully erect. "Like what you see, princess?" He laughs as he takes his cock into his hand, smearing the bead of precum at the head and using it to pump his length. He crawls up your body until he's straddling you, grabbing your neck lightly and using it to pull you up into another kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only fans your desire even more.

You feel his cockhead prod at your entrance, and your eyes widen as you feel how thick he truly is and realize that's about to be inside of you. "Wait," you stammer, "please go easy."

"I know it's your first time, so I'll go gentle," he smiles down at you, looking softer than you would expect. But then his smile turns up into a smirk. "At first, anyway."

At that, he begins to press slowly into you, inch by agonizing inch. Even though your pussy is soaking wet and he prepped you, the stretch still burns as he slides past the tight outer ring of your muscles. You whimper in pain, a tear running down your face that he kisses away as he shushes you. "It'll only hurt at first, I promise," he comforts you, reaching down in between your bodies to rub his thumb on your clit to distract you from the pain.

Finally, he's sheathed fully inside of you, balls pressing against your backside as he stills to let you adjust to his size. Your walls feel so tight around his cock, and he's barely able to contain himself from instantly pounding into you. But he wants this to feel good for you too, so he continues to rub tight circles on your clit, causing you to pant and clench down around him.

The stretch of your walls around his thickness no longer burns quite as severely, and you already want more. "I think, ahh, I think I'm ready," you manage to gasp out.

He doesn't question you further, choosing to take you at your word as he begins to finally move. His length drags against your sensitive walls, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge on his cock. It only increases your pleasure as he sets a slow but hard pace, pulling almost entirely out of you before thrusting all the way back inside.

"Finally," he moans, "finally you're truly mine." He grabs your legs and traps them against his body, lifting your hips so that he can fuck down into you. Your ankles are resting against his shoulders as he pins you down with his body. "I'm going to fill this pussy up with my cum."

You don't consider the implication of his words immediately, too distracted by how deep he is inside your aching pussy in this new position. But that quickly changes as words begin to spill from his mouth as his pace increases.

"God, I can't wait to see how big and swollen you look when you're pregnant with our baby. You're going to look radiant." His moans get louder and his thrusts get quicker inside of you. "I'll pump you so full of cum, every single night until you're finally knocked up."

Your eyes widen in fear as the impact of his words hit you. You are not ignorant. You knew that there would have to be the eventual talk of children. But you were naive in thinking there would be a discussion, maybe even a way out of it. You had no idea that he already intended for you to be pregnant.

"Wait, wait," you fumble with the right words, "not yet, we don't have to do this yet." You try to reason with him, but when he adjusts his angle to thrust against a spot inside you that has you seeing stars, you find yourself unable to think of anything at all. The thickest vein running down his length presses against that spot, grinding against it as he pounds into your pussy so hard that your breasts bounce.

"Going to be so full of cum that it spills out of your pretty little pussy, ahh, fuck you feel so good," his grunts are bordering on primal now. You try to move, plant your legs into the mattress, and get away enough so that he doesn't cum inside you, but he simply presses down even harder on your body. The weight of him against you has you gasping for air, the lightheadedness as you try to suck in air only increasing the intensity of your pleasure.

His rhythm becomes erratic as he nears his end, thumb grinding down hard onto your throbbing bead as he seeks to make you cum alongside him. "Ahh, Shouto, please," you whimper as you throw your head from side to side, toes beginning to curl as the pressure inside you continues to build up.

Finally, he thrusts himself as deeply as he can, pressing hard against your cervix as you feel thick ropes of cum shooting inside of you. He groans into your ear as you feel his cock pulsing inside of you. You can't stop your orgasm, pussy clenching hard against his cock. Your fluttering walls seem to suck his cum even deeper inside of you, and the position you're pinned in lets not a single drop slide out of you.

Shouto smiles down at you as you come down from your orgasmic high, both of you panting and sweaty. "Shh, you were so good for me, princess," he coos gentle words at you as he kisses away tears that you didn't even realize were there. He uses his cold hand to trail along your skin that still feels like it's on fire, cooling you down as he holds you tightly against his body.

You squirm to get out from under him, but he instantly stops you. "No, we're going to stay just a bit longer like this. Can't have any of my cum slipping out."

You can't seem to stop shaking, the reality of your situation finally hitting you hard. "Shouto," you whisper, "can I ask you something? And get an honest answer?"

"Anything, my wife," he murmurs as he plays with your hair and continues to cool you down with his hand. "I will never lie to you."

You're afraid to know the answer to this question, not even sure if you want a yes or a no. But you have to ask it anyway. "Do you - "you swallow hard, "do you actually love me? Or did you simply want a wife and children, and it didn't necessarily matter who with?"

You feel a moment of satisfaction as you see him look surprised for the first time. But that satisfaction is quickly squashed when you see his face fall, looking desperately crushed at your question. "Of course I love you," he whispers in a pained voice, "and I have always loved you. This was never just about a wife and children. This was about having you as my wife, and having children with you." He pauses for a second before adding, "You're going to be such a great mother, you know. And a great queen to stand by my side."

You close your eyes as you begin to tremble at his response, unsure if the emotion overcoming you is relief or not. Unsure if you'll ever be able to reciprocate his feelings, or if you already do and just won't admit it even to yourself. Unsure if you're ready to become a mother, to become Queen, to become Shouto's one and only.

But you are sure of one thing.

To a caged dove, none of that matters.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @burnedbyshoto, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @shoutogepi, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @1-800-callmekatsuki, @league-of-thots, @bakugotrashpanda, @engel-hageshii, @hoefortodo, @mhafanfics19, @daringbanshee, @otaku-explosion, @hellomary16, @vanillaicebaby, @theravencawsatmidnight, @universaltys, @simixchan, @crackhead1-800, @acehyacinth, @ererokii, @la-lay, @hadesnewpersephone

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winchesterxxi · 3 years

Text

My Favorite Ghost (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Type: Angst

Summary: What happens when a Resistance fighter gets trapped on Republican grounds and the man in charge of her torture is none other than her ex-husband Poe Dameron, former Leia Organa’s protegée turned First Order Admiral?

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Force-sensitive reader, torture, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, injuries, swearing, death.

A/N: Poe Dameron angst??? oof

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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The mission couldn’t’ve gone more astray.

It was a simple and easy task for a single person to carry out. Fly below the cruiser, get in, get their coordinates for their next targets and get out. Hand the coordinates over to Holdo, and prevent the StarDestroyer from blazing those planets.

Simple. Until it wasn’t.

It all went astray when a face scanner crossed your path. The blueprints didn’t mention any face scanner on that door. You panicked, trying to get your face to scan and let you in, resorting to fiddling with the wires on the side of the device looking left and right to make sure no one would catch you. Except they did.

4 stormtroopers rounded the corner and, hands full with a small screwdriver and needle-nose pliers, you couldn’t have moved fast enough to reach your blaster before they had pinned you against a wall, face against the cold metal.

Next thing you knew, a dark sac is being put over your head and right after your body is pulled away from the wall, a hard object hits the back of your head and you are knocked out cold.

You don’t know how long it had passed before you regained your senses, eyes struggling to open due to the immense brightness that was aimed at you from a light above.

You scanned around the room as much as your body allowed you to, for you soon enough came to find everything below your neck strapped to a metal platform that stood upright in the middle of the room you were in.

You could spot a few cameras pointed at you, and you could also hear steps and muffled voices outside as well as a distant and low rumble of the ship’s engines – you should be close to the cockpit. Most torture rooms tended to be. That way, the commanders and soldiers don’t need to walk far to deliver information obtained from those captured.

The thoughts in your head didn’t have much more time to run wild as the big double doors in front of you opened and gave way to a silhouette to step into the room before they closed again behind them.

For as much as you forced your eyes to read them, it was practically impossible because of the light pointed directly at your face, coming from above. All you could see was the bottom of their uniform – knee-high dark leather boots and black pants, either a general or an admiral, and the clenched fists in shiny leather gloves - as they stood in front of you, hidden from the light.

“Are we getting this over with anytime soon?” you question bitterly while resting your head back and closing your eyes. You’d be damned if you were going to show any fear to anyone within this ship.

“Although I won’t blame you for just standing there, I know I’m pretty pleasant to look at.” Confidence, fake it until you make it. Or until you piss someone off, which is a better description of what you were aiming at.

“Can’t argue with that.”

Your blood runs cold.

Head snapping back down, facing forward, your jaw tightens and your whole body tenses at the reverberation of those words against the metal walls. And that is when the person you dreaded the most to run into again, in your whole life, steps into your sight.

His eyes meet yours and for a moment you think your mind is deceiving you.

This isn’t him.

Those eyes do not belong to the face in front of you. They aren’t his eyes. His eyes had a constant sparkle in them with the life that bubbled inside of him; they were big, brown, kind and caring.

These are hard, dark and cold. Lifeless.

“Poe.”

Despite his name leaving your lips in something little above a whisper, you know that name no longer refers to him. Not in the way it was engraved in your mind. Poe was your husband, the lively and witty resistance pilot that Leia Organa had assured you were meant for you. And maybe he was. But this isn’t Poe. This is someone – something else.

“It’s Admiral Dameron.”

You grith your teeth together and have to muster all the strength in you to not let your bottom lip quiver at the coldness and lack of emotion in his voice, so distant from that you were used to in the sweet nothings that would reach your ears in the mornings you’d wake up in his arms.

“What do you want?” you ask him, voice tainted with both pain and disgust.

“I could ask you the same thing. You were the one caught in our ground, trying to break a facial recognition system. What exactly were you looking to get?”

“It was outside the navigation system room. Take a wild guess.” Your anger-powered wit met a halt, as a sharp pain ran through your whole body with great intensity.

A pained screamed was let out of your mouth, muscles tensing and thrusting your body forward against the metal boundaries that enveloped your ankles, thighs, wrists, middle and upper torso.

Once the sting stopped, you threw your body back, chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch your breath, as Poe circled where you stood.

“Being a smartass won’t get you anywhere.” He taunts from behind you.

“Because being honest and cooperative will get me a congratulatory snack after this, right?” you weren’t about to give in, and apparently neither was he as another violent ache ran across your body, this time for a few more seconds longer.

“You really don’t listen to people’s warnings, do you?” he snaps his intimidating eyes at you while coming back around to stand in front of you.

“I had a good teacher.” You manage to jeer through gritted teeth. That gets a reaction out of it. One that would be imperceptible to the common person, unless they had been married and in love with them, so much so that they picked up on every little quirk.

“You do realize you’re not getting out of here alive.” It wasn’t even a question, more so of a statement as his lowered head allowed his eyes to look up at you through his lashes, and your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach at the realization, and you have to blink away the tears that threatened to make an appearance.

“You would do that? Kill me?”

“It’s protocol. Resistance scum dies, either if they deliver a confession or not.”

“You won’t even say my name, but you’re okay with having your hands being the ones that put an end to my life?” he doesn’t answer, breaking the wall he had put up for a fraction of a second when his eyes wander around, away from yours. “And Resistance scum? Wow, your ego really is something.”

“Shut up.”

“The only scum I see here is the one standing in front of me, who betrayed friends and family to save his own ass”

“I SAID SHUT UP.” His left-hand slams against the metal behind you, just a few inches away from your face and you flinch, eyes closing at the sudden movement, the fleeting possibility that he could hit you crossing your mind.

When you open your eyes you see his face just inches away from yours, heavy breathing fanning against your face, his hand still rested next to you.

Your eyes are distant, looking somewhere above his other shoulder as you shift your right hand, as much as the restraints allowed, palm facing upward and fingers spread. Between your faces surges a ring, attached to a silver chain that surrounded your neck.

You bite the inside of your cheek and a single tear spills out of your right eye, his attention remaining on the object floating in front of him.

That is his mother’s wedding ring, or rather, it was, until the day he gently put it around your neck, the day that was now so far behind in time that, together with the present circumstances almost felt like a fever dream. He had insisted that you both didn’t need wedding rings as the simple act of you wearing his necklace, the one everyone knew was destined to rest against the sternum of whoever he’d end up deciding on spending the rest of his life with, was enough.

And you never took it off. Not after he started to seem more distanced. Not when he’d started to snap at you. Not when the fights started. Not when you started to sleep in separate rooms. Not when he turned on you mid-mission and started to shoot at your X-Wing. Not when, moments after that, he turned his X-Wing around, killing a few other Resistance pilots. And not when he flew away, following the First Order fleet.

You never took it off.

Closing your eyes, you relax your hand and let the ring fall back against your chest and Poe pushes his hand off the metal, taking a few steps back. He looked… ill at ease.

“What happened, Poe?” you whisper, voice begging for an answer, his name sounding on your lips for the second time today, the most it’s had in little over a year. And, surprisingly, he doesn’t correct the way you address him.

“There was never a chance of us winning. We were outnumbered, our technology wasn’t as advanced… It was either surrender or joining them.” Something tightens inside of you at the way he used us and them to reference the Resistance and the First Order. He was referring to himself as Resistance. Probably unconscious. You decide against pointing it out or correcting him.

“And you chose to join them.” You slowly nod “Was it all so meaningless to you that you could just turn your back on us?”

“The Resistance will forever be doomed.” He utters bitterly.

“You wanna talk about forever?” you question, eyes red and glazed with how wet they were, and he stares at you.

“THIS –“ you raise your voice and look down, motioning to the ring resting against your flight suit, before looking back up to meet his gaze “WAS FOREVER.”

Your words and the silence that followed hung between the two of you almost as making the air in the room thicker by the second.

“Do you ever even think about me anymore? Or does your every thought revolve around these people?” tears sting your eyes once more and you take a shaky breath in “Every morning when I wake up I still expect to have my cheek resting against your chest, but there’s only a pillow. When I go to Leia I expect you to be standing next to her, planning some sort of strategy. When I fly in my X-Wing I still expect the commlink to crackle with your voice. When I see BB rolling my way, I still look up in hopes of seeing you walk up behind him. I hate you. I hate you so much. I hate you with every fibre of my being. But I also love you in equal measure.”

Poe remains immobile, standing a few feet ahead of you, the device that controls the electric shocks tightly fisted in his left hand and he is looking at you, straight ahead. At this point, you are panting with the effort of mustering out all of those words and feelings through the tears and sobs that rattle your whole body.

“Somehow, after all the shit you’ve done, I still love-”

You don’t manage to finish those words, the second time you’d be uttering them in over a year as they die on your lips and are replaced by a glass-shattering scream of pain, as the sharp burst of electricity travels your body once more during a much more excruciatingly long time. All your muscles tense as much as they can and you forget what breathing feels like.

Once Poe’s thumb slides of the control button, your whole body jerks forward, panting, tears falling to the ground beneath your hovering feet, head down. Despite the rational choice being to shut up you need to say this. You know that he is still there, somewhere, below all that darkness that took hold of him. He is still there. And you need to get him out.

“I still lo-“

Poe’s thumb slides over the button once again, inflicting another piercing wave of torture to your already spent body. Something is, indeed, still in him as this time around he can’t bring himself to look at you and at the way the electricity is slowly but surely bringing you closer to a point of no return. And despite the tears blurring your vision, this fact doesn’t go unnoticed.

After he relieves the pressure on the button, your body no longer jolts forward but instead goes limp against the metal board, the back of your head resting against it, mouth starting to taste like blood, which peeks through the corner of your mouth.

“You won’t even look.” You struggle to get the words out, voice coming out raspy and hurting as it passes through your throat.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least be man enough to look at me when you do it.”

Your whole body is pulsing with aftershocks of pain and you are struggling to keep your eyes open, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. Just when you are about to close your eyes, just to rest them, you told yourself, you hear Poe’s voice for the first time since he told you the Resistance was doomed.

“After all this, do you still love me?” Your brain can’t quite comprehend if by this he means the torture or all the events that you crying about earlier, the ones that led him to join the First Order.

Either way, the answer would be the same.

“Yes.”

Jaw tensing, Poe pushes the button in his fist one more time, watching your body light up with the blue electric jolts that ran your full height up and down, side to side, travelling through each of your limbs eating away at the remaining life in your body. His lips were trembling just the slightest and his eyes, lit with the image in front of him, started to be glazed by tears.

He didn’t let the button go for much longer than he previously had, being completely lost inside his mind and out of it at the realisation that even after all the shit he put you through and the hurt he caused you, you still loved him.

It wasn’t until he stopped seeing you squirm that his finger release the button and your body fell completely limp against the metal, head falling down, the metal loops preventing you from falling forwards completely. He hesitated in stepping closer to you, scared of you moving or rather not, he wasn’t sure.

But his heart gave in to the breaking of itself when the latter possibility turned out to be the truth.

You weren’t moving.

You weren’t breathing.

There was blood dripping from your mouth onto the floor.

You were gone.

And he did it.

A trembling hand of his came up to push your head back against the platform holding you.

That’s when he took a good look at your lifeless face, and a shaky exhale left his lungs.

Oh, how he still loved you.

He wanted to cradle your face in his hands a lay a kiss against your forehead, run his knuckles against your cheek and wipe the blood away from your soft lips.

But they were watching him. The cameras were pointed at him and the microphones were on, preventing him from freely displaying any kind of affection towards you.

Blinking away the tears and trying to keep his body language as much stoic as possible, his gloved hand reaches up for the ring that hung from the chain draped around your neck and he pulled it down, breaking the silver link as it released the hold it had on you.

He slid the ring into the chest pocket of his uniform before walking away, towards the door, and out. Leaving the lifeless body of the only person who could ever allow him redemption behind, limp and broken.

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TAGLISTS

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@blondekel77 @pedrobreakmyback

POE DAMERON TAGLIST

@niall2017

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#My Favourite Ghost #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #angst #poe dameron angst #oscar isaac x reader #FirstOrder!Poe x reader #fo!poe dameron x reader

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izzielizzie · 3 years

Text

Rough on the Surface but You Cut Through Like a Knife

summary: When Bronwyn Rojas ends up next to the ever obnoxious Nate Macauley in Spanish class, she doesn’t really mean to hit him with a book. Well, she does, but she doesn’t expect to end up in the principal’s office with him. And she definitely doesn’t expect to find him amusing.

alternatively: Bronwyn hits Nate with a book and a long overdue conversation ensues (AU)

title from Willow by Taylor Swift

I’m about to drop into my regular seat in AP Spanish, my last class of the day, when Señora Trias calls “Don’t sit yet niños, we have some seat switching to do!”

I groan along with the rest of the class and catch Kate’s eye. We’ve sat together the entire year. I don’t even think I know anyone else in my class. She shrugs in a resigned sort of way. Señora Trias is a force to reckoned with, and we both know she’ll never let us stay in the same seats. We follow the teacher’s instructions, and I’m too busy trying to figure out the complicated dance we’re doing - row one to the left, row two to the right, front to back and back to front - that I don’t even notice that I’ve ended up next to a boy in a ratty leather jacket.

Ugh. Nathaniel Macauley. The school’s notorious drug dealer/womanizer/delinquent/major headache.

And this headache is smirking at me.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Nope, I’m all good… partner.”

I hate the way he says that word, it’s suggestive and disgusting and I suppress a shudder, turning instead to the front of the room, where we’re reviewing pluscuamperfecto. As a native Spanish speaker, I can confidently say I have no idea what the heck that is.

“This is pointless,” Nate grumbles.

“Shhh,” I whisper back, taking a glance at his sharp jaw and deep blue eyes. I’ve known Nate from a distance my whole life, we’ve gone to the same schools since kindergarten, but this is the first time we’ve been so close - or exchanged words - in years.

I look back to the teacher, who’s now going over conjugations. I scribble them down in my notebook as Nate tips his chair back on two legs, rocking back and forth.

“You’re going to kill yourself,” I inform him.

“Wow Rojas, I didn’t know you cared.”

I scoff and Señora Trias sends us a sharp look. “Señorita Rojas. Señor Macauley, no talking.”

I give Nate a sharp look. “Now look what you’ve done,” I hiss, feeling the reprimand as if it had been thrown at me. Nate just smirks.

“You’ve never been in trouble have you?” he asks. I ignore him and he barks out a laugh, my silence serving as an answer. “Wow Rojas, I knew you were straight laced but I didn’t know you were that straight laced.”

And we all know you’re not I think, remembering the drug bust rumor Kate was whispering about last week.

Nate clearly can tell I’m not interested in listening to him, so in the time it takes me to pull out the short novel we’re reading in class from my bag and read about a chapter, Nate doesn’t say a word. When I’m copying down the questions our teacher wrote on the board onto my notebook, he starts talking.

“What’s the answer to one?”

“Solo español por favor!” Señora Trias calls from the front of the class. I give Nate a triumphant look, expecting him to be unable to follow the teacher’s instruction of only talking in Spanish. Unfortunately this is Spanish class. And Nate’s not an idiot. He repeats the question in the correct language, and I decide that I’d be better off ignoring him.

After a few moments, I can feel Nate leaning over my shoulder. I look over to see his eyes on my paper.

“Stop that,” I whisper.

“Spanish only,” he whispers back.

“That wasn’t even in Spanish!”

“Neither was that,” Nate points out.

I huff and go back to my paper, flipping through my book to find the answer to my next question.

“Help meeeee,” Nate whispers.

“Shut up,” I say.

“Bronwynnnnnn.”

“Shhh.”

“Rrrrrrojas.”

My sister once told me about out of body experiences when we were children, and at the time I had scoffed because the supernatural does not exist. But when I close my book - marking my page with my finger because I’m not a philistine - and swing it straight into Nate’s face, I swear I’m not controlling myself at all.

“Would you shut up?” I snap as an unnatural silence overtakes the room. I look around for the first time, meeting stricken faces. Kate’s looking at me like she’s never met me before.

“Bronwyn Rojas,” Señora Trias says dangerously. I risk a glance at Nate and feel a flash of sympathy when I see a red mark on his cheek. But he’s smirking at me so maybe he deserved it.

I’m frozen, not quite sure what to say. Señora Trias points to the door. “Principal. Both of you.”

“Both!” Nate and I say at the same time.

“Yes, look at that you’re in sync, no use that rhythm to get to the office.”

Not the best witty comment around, all things considered, but since Señora Trias looks like she’s ready to commit murder so I let it slide.

“So let me get this straight,” Principal Gupta says, staring at Nate and I, sitting side by side in the uncomfortable chairs in Gupta’s office. “You two were partnered in Spanish class, Bronwyn you were annoyed with Nathaniel, so you hit him with a book?”

Nate tips his chair back and I kick at his ankle. He kicks back.

“Bronwyn.”

“Yes, sorry. This is correct,” I say. Principal Gupta stares at me. I’ve been getting a lot of stares lately. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can, the secretary appears at the door.

“There’s a problem in the cafeteria,” she informs Gupta, who sighs. She looks sharply at us.

“I am going to be gone for ten minutes tops. Please refrain from murdering each other.”

I nod vehemently while Nate tips his chair back farther, his smirk growing. I count backwards from fifty in my head just to make sure Gupta is really gone before wheeling back towards him. I push down on the arm of his chair with all my might. Nate crashes to the ground, a look of shock on his face.

“Jesus Bronwyn.”

“Stop tilting your gosh darn chair” I hiss, my face only a few inches away from his. I can see myself reflected back in his dark blue eyes. I look mildly deranged. He smirks again and I raise my hand. He flinches away. Ha. Take that.

He holds up his hands in surrender, leaning away from me. “Would it make you feel better if I sat on the floor Rojas?”

“Yes, yes it would.”

Nate slides to the ground, and before I can realize what’s happening, he’s pulling me down by the waist. “What the heck?” I ask.

Nate shrugs. “If I have to sit on the floor, then you do too.” He pauses for a beat. “And your legs look good in that skirt.

I slap his shoulder. “Jackass!”

Nate laughs. “She swears!” he announces to an audience of… no one.

“Why is that notable?” I ask, self-consciously tucking my legs underneath myself, ignoring my tingling waist where Nate’s fingers ended up under my shirt.

“Because a minute ago you said ‘gosh darn’ and not even grandmothers would say that Rojas.”

I can feel my face flush, but I cross my arms anyway. My little sister always teases me about how I don’t swear. Not that she swears either. “Is it really a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

I flush more, irritated at myself that Nate’s opinion matters this much to me. He senses that I’m done talking because he looks straight ahead at Gupta’s desk, where we can just make out a picture of her and her daughter.

“How’s your sister doing? Maeve, right?” Nate asks, and I turn to stare at him in shock. My sister Maeve left elementary school with cancer a long time ago. Nate was just starting to know her - they were on the same soccer team - and I don’t expect him to remember her, let alone her name.

“Yeah, it’s Maeve,” I say, my tone considerably softer. Nothing makes me happier than my sister. “She’s okay.”

“She’s in remission right?”

I turn my body so I’m looking straight ahead at him, a concession maybe. My anger is ebbing, and I’m sort of guilty about that bruise on his face. “She is. Thank you for asking.” Not many people do.

“You’re welcome.” What he says next surprises me so much I almost miss what he says: “Want to talk about it?”

I look at him for a moment, at his dark eyes and smattering of freckles and his closed off expression, and I can’t help the feeling that he’s being serious. And I don’t know why that’s so off putting.

I shrug, trying to figure out what to say. “It just sucks, you know?” I finally land on.

Nate nods. “I know.” I think back to his mother’s funeral, the dark, rainy morning where he stood in an old suit, his father too drunk to even show up. I kept thinking about Maeve, about how some day I might have to stand in the same place, shouldering the burden of a million worlds.

I imagine that’s how it feels to lose someone.

I feel the need suddenly, to make those eyes light up so I shift slightly closer to him and pluck at the sleeve of his leather jacket.

“Hey, remember when we were locked in that music room at St. Pi?” I ask.

Nate glances over at me through hooded eyes, his eyelashes unnaturally long. He nods, a half smile on his lips. “I remember. Sixth grade right?”

“Yeah.” I remember that day like it was yesterday. We had been arguing - much like today - in the middle of a music class, and our teacher sent us to the storeroom to sort flutes until we calmed down or something. But we - and the teacher - had forgotten that the door to the store room door locked from the outside. Nate and I were locked in for nearly an hour, which to twelve year olds, felt like forever.

“It was a pretty good day you know?”

“Really? I thought I threw a clarinet case at you.”

“Well you did,” Nate says. “But you know… it was nice. You’re nice.”

“Aww.”

“But you are violent.”

“Touché,” I admit.

He smiles at me, his eyes soft, and I smile back. I’m about to reach up to touch the bruise on his face when Gupta comes back, breezing through the door like she’s floating. She groans when she sees us.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Heat rises,” Nate says with a shrug.

“It’s November."

Nate and I just look at each other and smile. We climb back into our seats, and when he tips his chair back, I don’t say anything. And when I say “gosh” instead of “god” when I’m assuring Gupta that “I swear to gosh I didn’t mean to hit him I’m so sorry” Nate doesn’t even bat an eye.

Truce, I guess.

Gupta spends ten minutes talking about pressure and how sometimes we cave but if Nate forgives me it’s okay before she lets us leave. Nate and I mockingly shake hands before we get up and it’s… nice.

The bell has already rung, so we turn in opposite directions, me to physics and him to gosh knows where when he turns to me.

“Hey, want to go to the mall on Saturday? You can buy me a pretzel for my troubles.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll throw something at you?”

Nate grins his Macauley grin. “I think I’ll risk it, Rojas.”

My smile is his answer.

#bronwyn rojas #nate macauley #natewyn #one of us is lying #izzielizzie's fics #queued

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mintvender · 3 years

Text

UTOPIA [ 7 ]

Pairing: BTS x Y/N

Synopsis: Y/N L/N, the name of the current monarch of Corea. They became the ruler after successfully ending the previous king along with the dynasty as well. In their harem, countless men are present to help balance the court’s power. However, is this truly their intentions? The palace was always a place that needs to be proceeded with caution but as time goes by, recklessness would most likely outweigh it. You found yourself unable to prosper the kingdom without being too connected to it.

HaremAu!

Warning : Suggestive Content

Word Count: 9.8k

A/n: Finally finished this chapter. This chapter marks the end of the first era where the main ensemble finally unite. However, this is also the start of something else. Tell me what you think, 🌿.

Masterlist

Humming a quiet melody, you felt the air around you stirred. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of the flow around you, patiently waiting for a response. Expectedly, your question was not answered.

Nevertheless, you knew better than to give up your standing and continue to participate in this wordless battle. After all, as a member of the Crimson branch, it would hurt your pride to lose to such a miscellaneous game.

Slowly but surely, the air around you both began to constrict, seemingly trapping you in its borders. However, instead of surrendering to either of your guys’ unmoving selves, none made a move in anything close to failure and instead, waited.

Such a manipulator.

Seconds steadily merge into minutes, and before you know it, you are left with a quarter of an hour before having to head back. Looking at the entrance of the alley, it had seemed that the sun was already setting. Turning around to meet Raven’s eyes, you let out a smirk before pushing yourself off the walls.

“ If you don’t have anything to say then I guess there is no other purpose being here,” you taunted, heading towards the bustling street.

Purposely exaggerating your steps to enhance the sound of your shoes colliding with the floor, you confidently walk the opposite way, not glancing back. However, before you can bathe under the colourful lanterns, an arm slid around yours, pulling you back into the darkness.

Quick to hide your growing smirk, you let yourself be dragged back deep within the alley. Turning around, you look down at the piercing eyes, staring menacingly into your own.

“ Stop joking around,” Raven warned.

“ Answer my question then,” you insisted, “ Why have you called me?”

Even with the mask, you could tell that she was rolling her eyes at your ridiculous question. Reaching into her long sleeve, Raven took out a thin envelope and shoved it into your arms.

“ The Master wanted to give this to you.”

Looking at her knowingly, you flick the tab open, reaching in to get the paper. Pulling the paper out, you motioned her to bring the lantern closer. You both peered through the content of the letter, processing the intentions that have been conveyed. Looking into each others’ eyes, silently having a conversation.

After a while, you both synchronously nodded, agreeing on the best solution.

Standing straight up, you carefully tuck the letter into your inner sleeve. You patted the spot a few times to test its stability as you mindlessly listened to Raven’s plan.

“ You do know that it is better to do it now than later right?”

Stopping what you were doing, you clench your hands repeatedly while staring at the ground. Letting out a tired sigh, you tussled through your hair in frustration, making obvious attempts to ignore her question.

“ You kno—“

“ I know!” You growled, biting your inner cheeks. “ I… need time to adapt to this current life. After that… I will tell them.”

Without looking at her, you could already define her expression of knowingness. Even so, you ignored it, too caught up with your thoughts and forceful emotions.

Letting out a loud sigh, “ Mind joining me for a drink?”

Looking into Raven’s eyes, you could almost spot specks of whites and yellows swirling into her magnificent midnight black orbs. Despite how gorgeous they were, you knew that they held nothing more than pity and sympathy; ones that aimed at you— your decisions specifically.

Once again, you both held eye contact for however long before Raven broke it with a gentle shake of her head. She nodded, quietly accepting your invitation, stepping away from you.

Following her lead, you nodded, tightening your grasp on your own mask, in which you had taken off unconsciously during the discussion.

Fingers running through the surface, you admire each stroke that has been carved into the wood. Unlike Raven’s who was smothered in shades of black and grey, yours was painted in a variety of red and gold. In another way, it showcases the difference between your animal and hers.

Each member of the clan is subjected to form their alias based on their branch and their ones that resonate with them.

For example, your branch— the crimson branch is categorized as a physical branch, people who focus on close combat. As a result, all the members within the branch are named after predators of all kinds, except birds. Raven, who belonged to the Gold branch, specializing in long-distance attacks, are thus named after various avians. With that, the Azures are categorized to different strategic pieces and theories, while the Veridian branch are varieties of poisons, and the Titanium branch, are all the raw materials used for craftsmanship.

Bringing the mask to your face, you quickly fasten it, lifting your hair to hide the knot under it. You started heading out of the alley, Raven following right after you and into the clusters of light.

As you both walked through the noisy crowd, you glanced around at the assorted shades of lanterns that are hanged throughout the district, most in deep, bright shades of red, confirming that you were indeed in the epicentre of the red district.

The red district was a very interesting place that attracts a wide audience— for the many different reasons that are available. Some people come here to do business— both legal and illegally, while some search for companions—for the reasons you won’t go into. Anyways, in your guys’ case, it was the former. Now for whether it’s legal or illegal? You didn’t exactly know.

Along the way, you randomly chose a cozy-looking winery in the depth of the district, one that wasn’t filled with too many lustful people.

This particular winery was unlike many others. Instead of drenching in the odour of alcohol, the winery quickly filled your senses with a delicate and flowery scent. Curiosity hitting you like a brick wall, you glanced around to try and find where the scent was coming from.

“ Welcome, precious guests,” a velvety voice greeted.

Perking your head up at the voice, your head naturally followed the direction. Immediately after looking up, you were faced with a figure adorned in pieces of red. Unexpectedly, the voice owner’s face was beyond any noble ladies in the capital, with a sharp yet captivating gaze, and perfect proportions. To say the least, she was flawless.

Seeing your guys’ silence, the lady let out a smile.

“ Please, follow me,” she said, leading you into a quiet corner, invisible to most people.

You nodded in gratitude, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs.

“ What would you like?”

Looking contemplated, Raven asked, “ What do you specialize in?”

Eyes sparkling in excitement at Raven’s word, the lady clasped her hand together before clearing her throat, “ Finally! The Silvering Winery specializes in mixed drinks.”

Raising your eyebrow, curious of the reason for her being so excited, you asked, “ Don’t people come here for that since it’s your specialty?”

Reacting to your question, the lady huffed out a sigh, her eyebrows crunching up in frustration. “ Of course not! All we have coming are old, drunken men who know nothing more than jugs of those tasteless alcohol! With our location, even if so hidden, people still manage to find it. No one ever asks for mixed drinks… until now at least.”

You smiled, taking interest in her talk, “ Any recommendations you have?”

Tapping her chin carefully, the lady took her time to think as she scanned over the both of you. “ Mhmm, how about this? I’ll create drinks based on what I get from each of you.”

Raven hummed in agreement while you nodded in interest,“ Please… Mmm...Is there perhaps a name we could possibly address you?”

Plushed lips curling up to a smile, she answered, “ Please call me… Lisa.”

“ Sounds foreign.”

Lisa nodded, “ I’m from the west.”

Smiling at her words, you introduced, “ Please call me Phoenix.”

“ Raven.”

“ Then we’ll be in your care, Lisa.”

Turning around, Lisa headed off to what seemed to be the kitchen, “ Don’t worry, I never disappoint my customers.”

You waited for the retrieving figure to enter the kitchen before setting your eyes back to the decor of the place. The whole venue was covered in wood, planks attached to the floor while chunkier pieces are used to form tables. Smaller pieces of wood are spotted splattered across the walls and the tops of the very many seats. On your guys’ table, a tray sat there, holding a plate of sweets accompanied by two wooden cups, filled to the brim with scorching hot herbal tea.

Reaching over to grab yours, Raven following right after, you both enjoyed the taste of the herbs in silence. Letting the bitter taste coat your skin, you hummed in satisfaction as the warmth spread through your body, seeping into your core.

Unlike your usual mask where it covers your entire face, this one only covered half of it, thus making it much more convenient to use during these situations.

“ It’s been a while since we’ve had a normal conversation.”

Humming in interest, Raven continued to sip her tea.

“ How have you been?”

“ ...I’ve been good. Just the usual stuff, nothing new.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, you reach over to grab a piece of sweet.

“ How have you been?”

Biting into the dessert, you munch on it while thinking over the question. “ It’s been hectic. This year has been a little … overwhelming.”

By the perked-up eyebrows, you could tell that she was interested in your wording but seeing how she had no intentions of mentioning it, you also dismissed the minor detail.

“ The Master had given you such a significant mission, it’s no wonder it would be so tiring.”

Tightening your lip to form a small smile, you nodded in agreement, your head bouncing with the force. “ In the beginning, I often wondered why the Master has assigned me to be leading this mission when there are clearly more suitable people than me.”

“ Who?”

Looking down to your own cup, you stared into the reflection of yourself painted on the layer of liquid. “ … For starters, you.”

Chuckling at your response, Raven eyed your slightly sunken form. “ Me? I have no interest in this type of mission. In fact, I’m quite glad that you were assigned to it. This way, at least, I have some reassurance that the mission is more likely to succeed.”

Refusing to look at her, you smiled in acknowledgement, the happiness unable to reach your eyes.

Seeing your sullen state, Raven reached out her hand to grasp yours, comfortably stroking over your knuckles.

“ You will do fine. In fact, you’ve done so much more than what that bastard has ever achieved in his entire life.”

Wincing at Raven’s profanity, you cracked out a smile.

“ You’re lucky he’s dead, if not…” you spaced out, slicing your finger across your neck to continue your sentence.

Raven smiled at your joke. “ You’re part of the Crimson branch, Y/n, a predator that stands out among the rest,” Raven reminded you, “ I know that this is weighing a great deal of pressure on you but know that we are always here to assist you.”

“ ...You’re really bittersweet, Raven.”

Blinking calmly at your comment, Raven replied, “ Of course.”

Feeling the conversation fade away, you both followed the flow, quietly minding each other’s interest.

“ What’s with the atmosphere here?” Lisa announced, entering the scene, carrying the beverages on a tray. “ Now, now. Don’t be too sullen. Let me cheer you up with these drinks,” she proudly proclaimed.

Looking at the drinks that she had placed in front of you, your eyes glimmered in interest. Picking the cup up, you brought it closer to you, inspecting the contents within the cup.

“ What is this?” You asked, sniffing the aroma that was escaping.

Resting her arms on her hips, she explained, “ With Raven’s, I decided to go with a simple drink. A combination of our winery’s signature wine and rice wine have been added to highlight a clean yet edgy taste. Swan Knife”

Raven nodded, lips curling up in satisfaction. Picking up her cup, she slowly bring it to her lips, taking small gulps to savor the taste. “ Swan Knife? Mhmm, it fits.”

“ Of course.”

“ What about mine?”

Clapping her hand in excitement, Lisa giddily answered, “ Yours was a combination of the winery’s freshest batch and an old brandy imported from the west. I topped the drink off with a little citrusy tang to highlight the harmony of the senses. Overall, you will experience the sharp, bitter, and tangy sensation in one mouthful. Bittersweet Kiss.”

Taking in a deep breath, you mentally cringed at the name while Raven openly smirked at the coincidence. “ Sounds like a roller coaster,” you hummed, taking your gulp.

Closing your eyes, you let the taste of the alcohol cover every crevice of your mouth, confirming what Lisa said to be true.

“ Interesting,” you said, “ Definitely worth your praise.”

Preening at your praise, she happily thanked you.

Using the tea to cleanse your palate, you repeatedly go back and force between the two beverages.

“ Why don’t you join us, Lisa?” Raven offered.

Shaking her head, she gave out a sad expression, “ I’m afraid that won’t be possible. My other customers are waiting.”

Taking a quick look around, you couldn’t spot any other customer except for yourself and Raven. However, as if on cue, the door was slammed open, revealing a bunch of drunken men, toppling over each other to try and enter the space.

“ LISA! Give me the usual!”

Rolling her eyes at the male, she quickly covered it with a smile, bowing in greeting at you before heading over to the other customers.

“ She seemed like an interesting fellow,” you noted before going back to your drink.

“... Has the Master been demanding?”

Stopping yourself at the question, you bite your lip in confliction. “ In some aspects, yes, he is. But I still don’t understand what we are getting out from these missions.”

Raven swirl her drink in a circular motion. “ The Master is planning something big.”

You snorted, “ Of course he is. He wouldn't assign me this mission for some petty excuses. You...you know something right?”

Confirming your theory at her refusal to look you in the eye, you nodded in understanding. “ You don’t need to tell me. I understand.”

“ No, it’s not because I don’t want to tell you but it’s … complicated. But what I can definitely guarantee you is that the Master is planning something that you will never expect.”

Staring at her features, you slowly studied the face that you’ve known for years. Suddenly, you came up with a surprise connection, one you didn’t expect to come nor become real.

“ If I look at you now, you hold some resemblance with someone I know,” you nonchalantly commented.

Stiffening at your sudden observation, Raven fidget with the cup in her hand as you stared her down, trying to identify who it was.

“ Who?” She meekly asked.

“... H— No i think I’ve mistaken you with someone else,” you covered up.

There’s no way that this is a coincidence. I’m just overthinking it.

Subtly shutting her eyes at your response, it was obvious that Raven didn’t wholeheartedly believe your words but ignored it either way.

“ I heard that you started adopting consorts, and changed the initial plan.”

“ … I did unconsciously recruit a few more consorts aside from Taehyung, and did manage to alter some part of the plan. However, I promised that it’s nothing major. The plan is progressing relatively smoothly.”

Chuckling at yoru panicked voice, she assured you, “ It’s fine. There’s no need to panic, I was just asking… Are they good people?”

Unconsciously smiling at the thought, you hesitantly nodded. “ They’re interesting people. Certainly unique in their own little ways.”

“ You know that you attract many people to your ways, right?”

Snorting at her response, you cheekily grinned. “ Good or bad, I wonder.”

Raven looked at you knowingly, before smugly looking at the decor around you, not wanting to give out a verbal response. Raising your eyebrows at her antiques, you also took your stride in looking around.

On instinct, you looked over at the opened doors to be met with a background of the dark sky, illuminated by lanterns. Hastily standing up, you bided Raven goodbye, “ Looks like it’s my time to go now. When you have the time, make sure to stop at my place.”

Going to the door, you almost couldn’t catch Raven’s greetings. Feeling a small smile adorned your face, you quickly exited the winery and back into the streets.

Looking at your previous spot, Raven mindlessly sipped her drink.

“ They’re certainly an interesting one, aren’t they?” Lisa pipped in.

Raven smiled, “ Definitely.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Once again in the crowds of the festival, you hurriedly dodge through the drunkens, careful to not hit the vulnerables. Smiling every so often to showcase your politeness, your feet quickly carried you to the opposite end and eventually to a left turn.

Letting out a deep sigh, you were thankful for getting out of the mess in one piece. Just being in the place gets you to have flashbacks about previous experiences.

You slowed down your pace, making sure to not look any stranger than what already meets the eyes. . Unlike the previous district who was filled with energy, this place is quite tranquil considering it is a more major district of the capital.

Eyes constantly scanning the area, you felt yourself stopped at a particular parlour. Approaching the stall, you took your time admiring the items that were put on for sale.

Grazing over the various accessories, you smiled at how detailed the carvings are. Feeling your finger twitch at a certain ornament, you brought it closer for inspection. Hooking the look around your finger, you twirl it around to test its stability.

Not bad.

“ Owner, are there any other colors or designs for this?”

Clasping her hand in excitement, the owner hurriedly displayed the other designs available.

Eyes sparkling in interest, you inspect ones that caught your sight but couldn’t decide on which one to buy. Seeing your uncertainty, the owner said, “ If you don’t mind me asking but who is it you plan on giving it to?”

Looking up to look at her eyes that had started to droop from old age, you politely smiled. “ I am planning to buy it for a… a friend.”

Raising her eyebrows at your reply, the owner took a moment to look over at the collection, “ Is there anything in particular that stands out about them?”

“ … sunshine.”

Looking back and forth between you and the collection before she boldly handed you an ornament. Graciously accepting the ornament, you take a second to inspect the item.

“ This norigae* is sewn from one of the most popular materials this year. Even though the threads are sewn together, similar to a rope, it is very soft yet also extremely steady. The customer had said that your friend holds similarity to the sun so I thought that the golden color would suit them.”

Nodding at her observance, you happily accepted her advice. “ Thank you. I will take this one.”

Returning the ornament back to her, you looked down again at the accessories before spotting a few that had caught your eyes.

“ Owner, please also pack these up for me,” you said, pointing at a few items, “ Here is the money. Keep the change.”

Bowing at her in gratitude, you accepted the wooden box containing your goods before heading to the tea house. On the way, you once again tuck the box in your sleeves in case of any ill intentions roaming around.

Resuming your previous pace, you continue to scavenge around the district while on your way back to the tea house. Amidst the way, you noticed an inconsistent pattern of people that were accumulating in front of a store nearby, coincidentally blocking your path.

I must be aligned with crowds today, you sighed.

After standing in the same spot for a few moments, you begrudgingly put on a brave face and courageously walk toward the crowd, hoping to not be pulled to pieces.

Taking a deep breath at a particular hard jab, you desperately sucked in the warm, moist air around you, trying to not groan too loudly. Tightening your stomach in an attempt to make yourself seem smaller, you try your best to push through the crowd of people.

Hissing at a young lady that had bumped into you, stepping on your toe in the process, you suddenly found yourself stuck in the center, with no available escape route.

Sighing at your unfortunate situation, regretting your decision, you were suddenly aware of the admiring gazes that wee being pulled. Looking around in curiosity, you wondered why everyone was looking so intrigued … until you heard the strings of the gayageum* being plucked.

Ears on alert at the melody that was being played, you turned your head in the direction, your feet unconsciously headed towards the music until you were just behind a few other bypassers.

Once you had registered what was happening, your eyes widened in surprise at the main highlight of the performance.

Hoseok.

There he was, your Noble Consort, was at the center, seemingly carrying all the major parts of the piece, giving no care to the crowd that had surrounded him. Eyes closed, Hoseok let himself go and simply followed the flow of the music, in a complete trance where the only thing that existed was himself and the melody.

Robes fluttering along with his movement, Hoseok continue to move with th music, seemingly becoming one with the melody.

Speechless at the scene that is happening in front of you, you stared at his dancing figure in complete silence, completely forgetting where you are, too focus on Hoseok, himself. It also seemed that you were too involved in the performance that you, also gave no care to your surroundings.

Eyes staring at Hoseok, at his every movement— twirls, turns, and jumps, you engulfed yourself to enjoy the performance, deciding to put away your questions for later.

Slowly, one song after another ended yet Hoseok still kept dancing while you kept your eyes glued on him. No matter how many times you were pushed around, or the constant change in neighbours, you still remained in your spot only snapping out of your daze at a particular hard push.

Eyes glaring at the intruding figure, you shake your head to clear up your mind. Noticing at the slow change in melody indicating that the song was about to end, you looked at Hoseok one last time before turning around and returning to your tracks, this time making sure to not go off it.

At least I know I’m not the only one who’s late.

As you calmly walk through the street, the scene that had unfolded in front of your eyes kept coming back. Hoseok’s smooth yet sharp moves, soft yet powerful gestures, and how he managed to control the air around him made you more curious about him.

Who exactly are you?

Silently entering the tea house, you were too deep into your thought that you had even dismissed the greetings of the servants and instead just followed their lead to your previous spot.

“ Give me a serving of the sweets to go,” you mindless order.

Leaning back against the chair, you glanced down the window, searching for Hoseok’s incoming figure. However, you soon find out that he wasn’t going to come anytime soon. Even after receiving your sweets, Hoseok still did not come.

Placing the money down on the table, you grabbed the sweets and left the establishment and instead settled for the outside stairs to wait for him. Feeling your skin itch in agitation, you feel your anxiety increase as the minute goes by.

Where is he?

Feeling your mood getting increasingly worse, you accidentally growled at a man that accidentally touched you. Apologizing was a hazy memory when you were in this current state yet you still find yourself waiting, somehow not finding the need to go and find him yourself. However, in all of foolishness, Hoseok is bound to get at least a few of your lectures.

Finally, after the moon was halfway on its route, a familiar figure finally appeared. Letting out a breath that you didn’t know existed, you ruffled your hair in both relief and frustration; both emotions aiming at him.

“ Where have you been?”

Flinching at your cold tone, Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Instead, he opted to look down at the floor, in shame.

“ Did you realize what time it is?” You asked, “ When did we agree to meet?”

Once again, you were met with absolute silence. At this time, most of the stores and parlours had closed with only a few lanterns available to illuminate the street.

However, unlike the calm and tranquil the cool night should bring you, you felt a wave of frustration engulf you. In the back of your mind, you thanked your abilities to heal the wounds in time. Because without it, the wound would have already reopened with how hard you were clenching your arm.

Aside from your blazing eyes and your tense grasp on your sword, Hoseok couldn’t find any other evidence of your anger. However, even without any evidence, he knew that you were letting out anything but positive energy.

“ Whatever, we’ll talk about this at a later date,” you said, drawing a shaky sigh before presenting your arm, “ Let’s go.”

Looking at your arm, Hoseok hesitantly holds onto it before letting himself be dragged by you.

The silence presented during your guys’ walk was what Hoseok had expected when he accepted your invitation. However, he also understood the reason for why such a tense sensation was presented and was not naturally there.

As you approached the palace gates, you let go of Hoseok’s hand, reaching into your sleeve to take out your hopae*. When the guard spotted your tag, he immediately opened the gate, letting you both in. Before going in, you reached over to Hoseok to entangle your hand with his, not saying anything at his surprised expression. Thankfully, Hoseok also followed the flow and didn’t comment on your actions.

During the way to the Noble Consort’s courtyard, an eunuch had run over, offering to help guide you but was answered by a denial. Instead, you took the lantern from his hands and dismissed him.

Once you both were finally in front of Hoseok’s courtyard, you finally let go of his hand. Hoseok, who was about to bow to you, stopped when he saw you reach into your sleeve, seemingly looking for something.

Unlatching the rope that had secured the box, you quickly took out the norigae that you previously brought. Throwing it over to Hoseok’s direction, you turned around and began to walk to your courtyard, not looking at his reaction.

“ A souvenir from me. If it’s not to your fancy, throw it away.”

Hastily catching the item that you had disposed into his hands, he confusingly looked at it before realizing what it was. Grazing over the norigae fondly, Hoseok carefully untangled the knots. Grasping the ornament tightly, he felt his lips turn upward at your gestures. Bringing it close to his chest, he looked at your disappearing figure, attentively.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

Within the next month of the announcement, news of the arrival of the new consorts began to enter the palace, and eventually, reaching the court. The ministers and officials were overjoyed at the news, happy that they were still sending over the candidates despite your announcement.

Unlike others who were happy about the consorts’ arrival, Taehyung was still soured over the news, as well as your choice.

Despite Taehyung’s obvious disapproval, it was customary for you to at least spend a night with each consort in the first week, especially if they were from a different country.

On your first night of the three, you met your first choice from the piles of possible candidates.

Sato Chungho, was a righteous man who had an outstanding record and an ambition in politics. He was so intrigued by it that you had spent the entire night talking about the subject.

“ Politics, you say?” You asked curiously as you propped your chin on your hand.

Chungho enthusiastically nodded, eyes trained on your every movement. “ Yes, your majesty.”

You hummed, “ Why are you suddenly bringing this up?”

Looking down at his hands, Chungho fidgets with the fabric of his attire. “ I had heard that your majesty is well versed in this field. Since I have met you, I … I knew that love would never be able to blossom between the two of u—”

“ Why would you say that?” You interrupted, eyes peering down at him in interest.

“ You might not know this, your majesty but you have been a very popular topic in Shihoma. Previously, we all had known about how terrible the Corea’s monarch was but since your arrival, everyone couldn’t help but be intrigued by how you managed to take him down. More importantly, the way you handled this Consort Selection both showcases your dominance and how you’re not afraid to flaunt it. Many would have to think twice about doing this, especially for a country that has yet to establish a good reputation.”

“ Then wouldn’t my actions be considered to be reckless. If you think about it, won’t it be easy for other countries to fight ours since it’s so vulnerable right now?”

Chungho shakes his head, “ It would be unlikely because most people know that most of the soldiers had gone to your side before and during the rebellion. You didn’t lose that many soldiers so attacking you is not a minor matter.”

Raising your eyebrows at his answer, you nodded your head. “ Then what would you like?”

“ I would like…” Chungho gulped, “ to learn more about politics under you.”

A potential.

Cracking a smile at his uncertainty, you stand up from your seat. Waving your hands to signal him to come over, you invited, “ Come. Play a game of go with me.”

With that, Chungho giddily accepted your invitation and both of you found yourself spending the entire night indulged in all the games you had available.

On the second night, things turned out to be more interesting with the second consort.

“ Chin-Hae means the truth and a vast ocean, correct?” You had asked.

“ Yes, your majesty.”

“ And you’re a son of a merchant?”

“ Yes, your majesty.”

Scanning at him from top to the bottom, and bottom to top, you couldn’t decipher the unsettled feeling that is blooming within your chest. You have been caught up in many situations where there is a sense of familiarity despite being strangers. And this is one of those situations.

“ You look familiar.”

“ I am afraid that we have never meet until today,” he said, “ However, you might have find my demeanour similar to some of the envoys that are currently residing in the palace.”

“ … you’re from Xin May yet you behave like the Ecenyths, you must have travelled quite a bit.”

“ As a merchant’s child, I have started travelling since I could even remember. However, I did spent a reasonable amount of time in Ecenyth.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “ Tell me the stories of the land you have visited.”

“ Where would you like to hear first, your majesty?”

“ … Xin May,” you decided, “ Tell me the culture, people, myths, legends. Anything of interest to your home country.”

Chin-Hae smiled, “ Yes, your majesty.”

As a result, you spent the entire night listening to the various stories from Chin-Hae; from the land’s culture to personal experiences and connection, Chin-Hae had told it in such an interesting manner that it captivated you every step of the way. He truly is a merchant.

I wonder if Seokjin is also good at storytelling.

On the third and final night, you were beyond exhausted with being deprived of sleep for two days straight and the constant piles that were presented on your desk. Thus, you didn’t have as much energy as usual and hoped that today will be like the other two.

Turns out, the third time was really the charm since it was completely different from the rest.

Entering your bedroom, you wanted nothing more than to fall onto the bed and travel to dreamland. Feet dragging your slouched body to the familiarity of your bed, you were suddenly hit with the realization of the slight change in the room’s placement.

Sobering up at the thought of an intrusion, you glared at every change in your normally simple chamber, feeling the irritation in you double. Aside from the difference in decor, the usual scent of lavender that would caress your skin was replaced with an overpowering scent of perfume. Feeling a headache reappearing, you sluggishly walked towards your bed only to be met with a big clump covered by a thin, transparent fabric.

The person must have noticed your speechless demeanour when they let out soft, high-pitched giggles. Normally, you would have define the noise as angelic but with your non-sobered state, fondness was not on top of the list.

Harshly grabbing the fabric, you forcefully tugged it off the figure and threw it to the floor. Looking into the bright yet hazy black orbs, you find yourself not knowing what to do.

“ Greetings to your majesty.”

Squinting your eyes in an attempt to find familiarity in the person in front to you but unable to do so, you find yourself speechless of what to say nor do. Suddenly, you realized that he was the one who you have chosen randomly, a person that you didn’t even bother knowing the name of.

Turning the other way, guiltily, you refused to look into the person’s eye, ashamed as what you did that day. However, the person seated on your bed took your action as an attempt to distance yourself away from him. As a result, he sneakily reach out his hand to touch your clenched ones.

Shivering at the chilling skin that had enveloped into your warmer ones, you looked at him, waiting to see what he would do.

As if knowing what you were hinting, the person took the opportunity to pull you to him, successfully setting you seated next to him.

Taking a deep breath, you could define the different fragrances that he was using.

Rose, with a light note of chamomile, citrus, lavender? No, what is it?

Confused at what you were smelling, you didn’t notice the roaming hands that were venturing your body until it travelled to your thigh. In a moment of panic, you pushed him away from you, shocking him in the process.

“ You… what’s your name?”

Yet to recover from the sudden shove, the male hastily replied, “ P-park Jimin, your majesty.”

Awkwardly nodding at his answer, you make sure to raise your hands, signalling that you meant no harm. “ I apologize, Jimin-ssi. There was so much work that I seemed to forget your name,” you said, shuffling away.

You knew that lying was bad in this situation but you also knew that saying that he was chosen in a matter of luck was worse. In other terms, he was lucky to be picked and wasn’t picked based on his capabilities unlike the other two.

There’s no way that I’ll tell him that.

Once again, using the opening of you drifting off, Jimin approached you, hands delicately running up your legs, eyes glimmering with mischief and flirtatiousness.

Speechless at what he was doing, you could only stare as he continued to venture across the span of your skin. Gently prying his hands off you, you push Jimin away. This time, on alert for any of his upcoming initiatives.

“ So tell me about yourself,” you said, brushing off what had just happened.

Staring at you confusingly, Jimin’s finger twitches in agitation. “ Why are you doing this?”

“ What do you mean?” You asked, scrunching up your nose.

“ Why are you asking these questions when you already know the answer?” He asked, eyes hiding behind his bangs.

“ I apologize, it seems that I have offended you. These past few days have been so busy that I haven't had the time to go over your profile yet.”

“ You didn’t even have the time to look into me?” He murmured, eyes locked on the velvet sheets.

You waved your hand in a hurry, protesting. “ Of course not. I sincerely apologize. I truly didn’t have the time to do so.”

Part of it was true while the other wasn’t being told. Yes, you have been extremely busy that you didn’t have any spare time and would go to sleep straight away after you return to your courtyard. However, you also did pick Jimin randomly, thus not having the fresh opportunity to look at his portrait.

You were really regretting your decisions of following the ministers’ miscellaneous plans.

Picking his head up, you propped them on top of your hand, directly looking into his own. Seeing his stunned expression because of your initiatives was something unexpectedly amusing; plushed lips puckered out to form a pout, a crimson shade that is spreading along the span of his cheeks, and eyes widen in such a manner that you almost couldn’t stop yourself from cooing about his cuteness.

Regretting at not seeing his painted portrait, you wonder if the artist managed to capture his beauty.

Smiling gently at your gestures, Jimin blinks continuously to try and seduce you.

Smirking at his antiques, you followed whatever he was luring you into before trapping him under your body. Arms placed on either side of him, Jimin bravely looked at you, eyebrows raised in a suggestive manner.

Lowering yourself until you were barely above him, you whispered into his ear, “ What do you think you’re doing.”

Feeling an unfamiliar sensation blooming within his core, Jimin unhurriedly replied, “ Whatever your majesty wants to do, I will follow.”

Smirking at his response, you continue to tease him by grazing your finger lightly across his skin, similar to what he had done to you. Seeing him squirm at the feeling was definitely a sight to see; amidst your teasing, you could even see a slight change in demeanour for a moment before it was covered by the previous thin layer of lust.

How interesting.

“ Oh really?”

Shivering at the moisture of your breath, Jimin couldn’t help but anticipate what was about to happen. However, his fantasize was cut short when he was no longer pinned down, the previous pressure dissipating into the air.

Pulling away from Jimin, you turned around, starting to take off your robe. “ You may stay here if you wish. We can talk about whatever but nothing related to what we just did.”

“ … So you just wanted to tease me?”

Clenching your fist at his question, you shakily replied, “ I apologize. I… I wanted to find out something.”

Jimin bit his lip, eyes glaring at your back. “ And that gives you the need to tease me? You may be my master, your majesty. But I am still a human who has feelings.”

“ … I apologize.”

“ Apologies, apologies,” Jimin huffed out, “ If you don’t want me here then I will leave.”

Standing up, Jimin takes the fabric, previously thrown to the floor and wrapped it around himself. Walking past you, Jimin didn’t look at you and instead focused on the door. Pushing the doors open, Jimin was about to leave but was suddenly pulled back.

Gasping at the pulling force, Jimin staggered backwards into your chest. “ I did say that I would let you leave but I didn’t agree to you leaving while in such a foul mood.”

Now, against your chest, you and Jimin were at the same height, none towering over the other but within your presence, Jimin found himself cowering under your watchful eyes.

“ W-what do you want now?”

“ I want to apologize to you,” you said, “ What do you want me to do?”

Turning around to look into your eyes, Jimin undoubtedly could sense your genuinity. Still trapped in your embrace, Jimin took his time to think and weigh the possible outcomes.

“ You would do whatever I say?”

“ If it’s reasonable, yes. I would do anything.”

Taking into consideration of your words, Jimin giddily thought up of various options. “ Then… give me jewelry as compensation.”

“ Jewelry? What do you want specifically?”

“ Anything that shows your favour in me. Things that would make people envy my position by your side.”

You nodded, agreeing with his terms. “ I will have something prepared for you by tomorrow and sent to your courtyard. For now…”

Looking over at your drawers, eyes sparkling up at the idea. Unlatching your arms around Jimin, you walked up to your drawers. Pulling a small drawer, you gingerly searched around before pulling a certain item out.

Returning to where you previously were, you gestured for him to turn around. You carefully placed the accessories against his skin, encasing the knot to secure the necklace in place. “ Keep this as a promise that I will fulfill my role.”

Grasping the pendant, Jimin looked over the design in awe before cracking a smile.

Seeing his smile, you commented, “ I see that you ar—“

“ Acceptable,” Jimin arrogantly said.

“ I’m glad,” you said, walking towards the table, pouring yourself a cup of tea, “ Let’s have a proper conversation now, shall we?”

Rolling his eyes at your comment, Jimin clenched the fabric wrapped around him before heading towards the table, taking a seat opposite of you.

“ Now, what can I know about you, Jimin-ssi.”

“ You don’t need to be that formal. Please call me Jimin.”

You smiled, “ Gladly.”

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ Now tell me about the Scavenge Disaster.”

Hastily going through the notes that he had memorized yesterday, Jungkook clumsily replied, “ The Scavenged Disaster was a breakout of droughts in the southern regions forcing many to go get refuge in other places?”

“ Continue.”

“ Mhmm.. the Sca—”

“ Say it with more confidence,” Taehyung interrupted.

Shooting him a glare, you scrunched up your eyebrows in frustration. Opening your mouth, you were about to say something when Taehyung continued to interrupt you.

“ How can you not remember the basics?” He degraded once he saw the hesitation that still lingered in Jungkook’s eyes.

Eyes widening at his words, you shouted, “ Royal Consort! Be careful with your words!”

Rolling his eyes at your word, Taehyung leaned back against his seat and focused on Jungkook, waving his hand for him to continue.

Shaking your head, you roughly slumped down into your seat, ignoring the stare that Jungkook was giving you.

Swallowing all the tension down, Jungkook went back to what he has been doing, now, even more agitated.

From the start of today’s lesson, the intensity of the air in the room was at an abnormal level. You all have noticed the change but no one put in the effort to address it.

“ When did this occur?”

“ Ten years before the previous dynasty ended.”

“ How old were you then?”

“ I was… ten at that time.”

“ I heard that you were constantly out of the palace,” you said, “ Must have been hard for you.” Nonchalantly looking down at the papers on the table, you didn’t caught Taehyung’s soured gaze.

“ Ten? You’re barely an adult now. Must have been a little brat,” Taehyung commented.

Sighing, you tiredly looked over at him, “ Brat? Look at you right now. You’re the brattiest yet.”

Taehyung scowled at your comment, “ Whatever. What has this lesson turned into? A personal bonding time for the two of you? Forget it, we’re done for today. I’m not in the mood for it.”

“ Jungkook you may go,” you dismissed him, letting out an exhausted sigh, and rubbed your tensed eyebrows. Seeing Taehyung also standing up, you were quick to confront him, “ You, dear Royal Consort, is staying until I tell you otherwise.”

Turning around, Taehyung looked at you with raised eyebrows, challenging you. “ You can’t control me.”

“ As long as I have the crown, there is nothing I can’t get my hands onto, including you.”

Huffing at your comment, Taehyung slumped down into his seat, not looking at you.

“ Why are you like this?” You asked, frustrated.

“ Why are you asking me? Ask yourself!” He yelled out, disbelief clearly adorned on his face.

“ What did I do?”

“ You took in three other consorts!”

“ I was forced to!”

“ You’re the owner of this land, no one can control you.” He said, using your comment as payback.

You chewed on your cheek at your words getting backfired. “ It's a minor problem, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“ Minor problem? Sure it is. So incredibly small that it caused chaos in the imperial court, agitating all the ministers.”

“ If you’re worried about them interrupting ou—”

“ I don’t care about the plan. What if they fancy you!” He retorted, pouting at his own words.

Eyebrows raised at Taehyung’s tantrum, you unconsciously lean back to enjoy the show.

“ You’re worried that they will gain power if they have my favour?”

“ That too,” Taehyung muttered.

“ Don’t worry. Chung-ho and Chin-Hae aren’t in the mindset of settling down,” you reassured, “ Chung-ho is too busy with his interest in politics while Chin-Hae will be travelling.”

During your guys’ little talk, you had personally promised to give Chin-Hae the privilege to exit the palace at will in return for little souvenirs that he will bring back. This may sound immature but you have plans for those items.

“ You guys are on first-name-basis now? Whatever, whatever, whatever... Then what about the third one?” He asked.

You tilted your head confusingly, not able to hear what he just said. “ What did you say?”

Taehyung looked at you, eyes piercing into your own. “ I asked about the third one. Jimin was it?”

“ Jimin?” You pulled out, chewing on your head as you remember what had happened on your guys’ first meeting. “ I don’t know.”

Taehyung pouted, “ Then there is still a possibility!”

“ If you don’t trust my words then go see for yourself.”

At your words, Taehyung turned around and walked out. “ I will.”

I will see for myself what you all have.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

A week later, Taehyung upholds his promise by arranging an informal afternoon tea meetup with the rest of the harem. He definitely needed to see how these consorts are faring.

Seated in the middle of the round table where every person that comes and goes is in his vision field, Taehyung patiently waited for all the guests to arrive.

Slowly, the Blue Pearl garden started to get crowded by people, surrounding the table situated under the gazebo.

On his left, seated the Imperial Consort, the only consort that he, the Royal Consort has to show some face to.

It is best said that the relationship between the Imperial Consort and himself is not the best but it’s also not the worst.

We just don’t align, is what he would like to say.

Maybe in another situation, he and the Imperial Consort can find a common ground but in a harem, he is barely able to keep it under his control without the interference of another party. As a result, if’s they can’t be acquaintances then being neutrals would do.

Naturally, the farther they are to the host, the inferior their status is, meaning that when those new consorts arrive, they will be on the opposite side of him. More specifically, facing him directly on this round table.

On his right, there sat the eldest Noble Consort, who was all too busy with looking at the surrounding to spare him no mind.

I must agree to what Y/N had said. Childlike yet witty.

Perking up at another incoming group, Taehyung smiled in greeting. “ Ah, Consort Sato, welcome. Take a seat next to Noble Consort Jung.”

Bowing down in greetings, Chungho smiled at Taehyung’s words. “ Greetings to the Royal Consort, Imperial Consort Min, and Noble Consort Jung,” he said before heading towards the seat next to Hoseok’s

At least this kid knows manners.

Taehyung smiled in satisfaction, “ Good. I like you.”

“ I’m honoured to be in your favour.”

“ The Consort Yang has arrived!” The eunuch outside announced.

Turning his attention towards the entrance, Taehyung gently nodded in greetings, already not liking the person with a tacky smile.

Unlike Chungho, who was dressed in the imperial hanbok, expected of a concubine’s status; and behaved in a way much like so. Chin-Hae, instead wore the clothes of his homeland, and put on a disgustingly confident smile.

Normally, Taehyung would have overlooked this as he is also interested in ways one can express themselves through fashion but when that person is his rival, he simply can’t overlook it.

Like understanding what he was trying to convey, a maid by his side stood up. “ Consort Wang sure is unique.”

Instead of being offended, Chin-Hae beamed at her words.

Seeing his expression, Taehyung also smiled in amusement. “ Take a seat, Consort Yang.”

Interesting.

“ I heard that Xin May is a really energetic country.”

“ The epicenter for festivals and entertainment,” Taehyung piped in, casually.

“ It really is. I would say that I am forced to attend at least a dozen festivals every year. And that doesn’t even account to the ones specific to each region.”

Eyes widening in surprise, Hoseok leaned forward in curiosity. “ That must really be eventful.”

“ Sounds like you were busy.”

“ I really wasn’t. Besides, I would trade time for the smallest chance of getting to attend. Unfortunately, my father is trying to train me to inherit the business. Days fill with work and politics is too much for me to cope, however...” Chin-Hae denied, sighing at the thought of the constant work piles.

Blinking at his words, Hoseok commented, “ Right, I heard that Consort Sato is interested in politics from your majesty. Is it true?”

Looking up from his hands, Consort Sato bashfully nodded. “ I have been interested in politics since childhood but was never allowed to have any information on it.”

“ You enjoy politics? Such a unique hobby.”

Taehyung opened his mouth, preparing to say something when he was suddenly interrupted with an announcement.

“ Consort Park has arrived!”

Raising his eyebrows at the incoming figure, Taehyung propped his head on top of his hand.

Now, this is a sight to see.

Compared to the rest, Jimin’s attire was overly done. From the expensive materials that were used, to the intricate designs that were sew onto the fabric, one could definitely tell that he was born noble.

With every step, the bells of his bracelet could be heard jingling as Jimin draws closer to the gazebo. Putting on a confident smile, Jimin did a slight bow in greetings, hands clasped over his chest.

“ Consort Park certainly is prepared,” Chin-Hae commented, astonished at his attire.

“ I thank the Consort Yang for the compliment.”

Taehyung bitterly smiled at the act, feeling his slowly adrenaline rise.

“ Please take a seat, Consort Park. The sun is already in its third quarter and the event has yet to start. Without any further interrupti—”

“ Apologies, apologies, Royal Consort. I had to do some work and forgot the time. I didn’t miss out on anything major, did I?” A booming voice exclaimed, racing from the entrance to where they were.

Taehyung scowled at the familiar voice, eyes glaring at the rushed figure.

“ Merchant of the South,” Hoseok greeted.

Like who Hoseok had said, the steps of Seokjin grew closer to the gazebo, face brightened up at the sight in front of him. Stopping meters away from the entrance, Seokjin bent down to a bow in greeting. “ Greetings to the Consorts.”

“ I was not aware that you were invited.”

“ Apologies, I immediately rushed over the moment I heard that you were holding tea time.”

You knew that you were not invited and yet…, Taehyung rolled mentally rolled his eyes before looking to the side, silently motioning for the arrangements to be done.

Nodding at his signal, the person focused on the preparations, no longer caring at the stares he was receiving.

“ Seems like you knew that you were not invited,” Yoongi straightforwardly pointed out, “ Why are you here then?”

Motioning the maid to go get another chair, Hoseok added, “ Are you here to greet the new consorts?”

“ Partially. I was getting curious at the uprising of the new trio and wanted to go see for myself.”

Unlike others, Jimin reacted at the comment by clenching his jaded fist. Staring like I’m an animal, how daring.

Looking around, Jimin noticed how no one was fazed by Seokjin’s words, secretly stunned at how nonchalantly all of them are until his eyes met with Yoongi’s. Flusteredly looking away, Jimin made a move to smooth out his attire, fidgeting with the fabric along the way.

“ Apologies, only those who have been given permission to attend can do so,” Taehyung's eyes narrowed Seokjin’s figure, “ Besides, I believe the envoy has much better things to attend to than some measly tea event.”

The merchant shook his head in disapproval, “ Attending this event is also part of my duties. The emperor has specifically ordered me to visit the consorts frequently to build a better relationship with them… Also, it had seemed that I was not the only one that came without being invited.” After that, Seokjin’s eyes automatically set its attention on the person behind the table of herbs.

The host smiled, grabbing his wooden fan on the table before flicking it open, gently oscillating it, “ Hmm?... Ah, care to answer that by yourself?”

Setting down the equipment, Namjoon unhurriedly waited for all the boiled water to drain from the pot before gently placing it on the tray. Motioning the maids to bring it, Namjoon made his way to the centre table, smiling all the way. Stopping a couple of steps behind Taehyung, Namjoon clasped his left hand over his right and bowed, “ I apologize for not greeting you, Consorts… Envoy of Ecenyth. Thanks to the Royal Consort, I have the honour of concocting all the drinks that will be served.”

Scanning up and down, Jimin observed Namjoon’s manners, picking up the Royal Consort’s obvious favour towards him. So he is on his side, or maybe… Jimin smiled at the thought which skillfully got hidden by a tea cup placed in front of him.

“ Concocting? Sounds like this will have many benefits.”

“ Of course, Noble Consort Jung. It wouldn’t be right of me to not prepare a nutritious drink,” Namjoon explained.

Hoseok only smiled but made no attempt to reach out for the cup. “ Please sit down, envoy. Why not have a cup of tea while you are here?” He offered once he realized Seokjin was still standing.

Smiling gratefully, Seokjin quietly slipped on to the seat that was just delivered.

Scanning around, Taehyung noted how not a single person had consumed the tea. “ Why aren’t you tasting it? This variety is quite fragrant and won’t be as nutritious if taken cold,” Taehyung commented, letting out a teasing smile, “ Perhaps you all are afraid that it is poisoned?”

Feeling the people around him tensed at his blunt words, Taehyung picked up his own cup before taking a sip from it, flipping it over to show he had finished it. “ See? Now, drink up.”

Sighing at Taehyung’s words, Yoongi deadpanned at how appetizing and easy it was to step into his trap. How annoying, he thought, glancing at Namjoon before staring into his own. Yoongi gracefully lifted the cup to his nasal, taking in a whiff of its scent. Placing the porcelain edge against his lips, Yoongi carefully took a sip. “ Not poisoned.”

Making eye contact with Hoseok, Yoongi subtly nodded, confirming what he previously said was true. Relying on his words, Hoseok also took a sip and smiled at the pleasant taste. “ Such a smooth taste.”

Taehyung smiled, at least we work considerably well together.

“ I’m glad that this tea has satisfied you.”

“ Move on to the next course,” Taehyung ordered, “ I hope you all haven’t ate anything today.”

At his command, the surrounding servants were put to work. Skilfully replacing the dishes placed on the tables with new ones, one can see the obvious change in style.

“ The decorations have changed,” Chin-Hae commented, looking at the sight in front of him in amazement.

Giggling at his comment, Taehyung nodded. “ Of course. Now that we are waiting on the next course, allow me to explain today's concept,” taehyung started, picking up the previous course’s cup, “ With each change in course, a new course will be bestowed based on a designated season. The previous was spring, this time will be summer, eventually becoming autumn and winter.”

Eyes sparkling at Taehyung’s voice, Jimin couldn’t help but clasp an exaggerated gesture over his petite face in awe. “ Such consideration the Royal Consort has put in.”

Taehyung nodded his head in gratitude, continuing to swing his fan back and forth.

“ Unlike spring, summer is considerably heavier so the Royal Consort has highlighted the use of fruits?” Hoseok asked.

“ Correct. Do you know the reason why?”

“ Because summer has the largest spectrum in terms of fruits.”

Snorting at his words, Taehyung said, “ Of course, envoy. However, aside from the taste, there is another factor to why I have put it here.”

“ Why?” Chungho asked, curious.

“ It’s because fresh fruits symbolises vitality, youth, abundance… and fertility,” Taehyung smiled. “Either way, isn’t it the perfect description of the Nurturing Solstice?”

Blushing at the Royal Consort’s indications, Jimin couldn't help but wonder what his life will now be like.

☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️ ☁️

“ They were talking about the Nurturing Solstice?” You asked, “ Taehyung must have had a fun time.”

Compared to the past, the current Nurturing solstice is quite watered down. Previously, the Nurturing Solstice did not only mark the start of a new harvest season but also the start of something more humanly— something more mature.

“ Yes, the new consorts were blushing at the Royal Consort’s openness.”

“ Let him have his fun. Cooping up in the palace isn’t good for anyone,” you said, “ Right, make sure to keep an eye on the new consorts, especially Chin-Hae.”

Clenching his hands, Chin-Hwa clumsily bowed at you tonal command, “ yes, your majesty.”

Glancing at his posture from your spot, you observed how uncomposed he became. Sighing, you leaned against the window frame, gazing out of the window. “ The sky is darkening.”

“ Yes, you majesty. It is estimated that the storm will go on for at least three days.”

You hummed at his reply, “ As expected… an abrupt change is about to occur.”

Tilting his head at your sudden comment, Chin-Hwa shot you a confused glance.

Dismissing his stare, you continue to stare at the sky.

It’s just that I don’t know how though.

~MintVender ( 19/05/21 )

Definitions:

Norigae - a traditional korean accessory that is usually hung at the waist at a person. It acts as a fashion item as well as a good-luck charm to bring youth and wealth to the person.

Gayageum - a Korean board zieuter, with 12 silk strings, and 12 movable bridges. Made from paulownia wood, he zither is about 160cm(62 inches) long and 30cm(12 inches) wide.

Hopae - an identification tag that carries the bearer’s name, place of birth, status, residence during the Joseon dynasty.

65 notes · View notes

k7l4d4 · 3 years

Text

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 7 Part 1

Hello all, today I bring you my adaptation of Lost In Language, through the world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

“So then,” Luz casually stated, looking over the stacks before her. “You want me to return these books for you, eh?” She glanced over at King and Eda, the two doing their best to follow her instructions in gathering their mana. King was admittedly doing better, and it honestly had nothing to do with him having more experience with Human Style Magic (she should think about getting that name trademarked). Eda just so severely chafed against any and every attempt to define what she could or couldn’t do that whenever she tried to focus and meditate, she would squirm, and growl, and complain. If it weren’t so utterly Eda, Luz would’ve found it exhausting.

“Yup.” Eda tersely replied, forcing herself to keep her eyes closed and her mind centered; it wasn’t going too well. Feeling her will waiver, Eda cracked an eye open, and just barely kept her eyes from snapping open incredulously; King was absolutely focused, a visible aura of energy surrounding him, resembling grey-colored rings rippling off his form. Screwing her face up, Eda did her best to center herself, “Those have been sitting around enough that I’ll probably need to do some sweet talking the next time I go back, and it gets you out of the way while King and I practice.” It came out harsher than she intended, but Eda was dead set on figuring this out with as little help as possible. The fact that King was somehow rocking at this just made that determination stronger.

Luz snorted good-naturedly; she completely understood where Eda was coming from, and didn’t begrudge her for it. “Alright then. It gives me a chance to see what passes for quiet entertainment around this place, and maybe find something new to read. Heck, I might even get a chance to organize my collection of… ‘borrowed’ books and scrolls!” She casually detailed, slinging her pack over her shoulders, the stack of books swiftly stored within. She shook her head in amusement at Eda’s answering grunt, walking for the door. Opening it, she noticed Hooty’s odd smile; following his downward gaze, she instantly spotted what had caught his eye. While a bit confused as to why he hadn’t tried to eat it, Luz hunkered down, pulling the note placed on top of the basket left on their doorstep. “‘Take care of my child till morning. Yi yi.”

“Nope, not happening. Babies are awful, and I’m busy trying to figure this whole, *Shudders* meditation thing out.” Eda groaned, not wanting to deal with the new interruption.

Luz rolled her eyes, but continued reading, a smirk crossing her face as she did so. “‘You will be handsomely rewarded. X-O-X-O-X-O-X. Bat Queen.’” She knew there was no chance of Eda saying no now, her love of rewards was too strong. Plus, the canny witch had more of a soft-spot than she was willing to admit.

“The Bat Queen!? The most influential and wealthy demon on the Isles?!?” Eda demanded, twisting around to look in Luz’s direction. Glancing around briefly, she huffed, pulling herself to her feet, and strolled over. Taking the basket, she glanced inside, seeing a baby inside. “Ugh, now I can’t say no! If I do, BQ will have my head on a platter, and for once it won’t be while I’m alive. Aw well, at least kids are easy- Why are you speed walking away!?” She demanded, even as Luz booked it before the fireworks started, laughing her head off. Glancing down, Eda was caught off guard as the baby burst into screaming, startling the prematurely aged Witch. “Gah! How are you so loud!?” She demanded, completely unprepared to deal with the noise. Glancing back, her eyes widened in shock. “And how are you not affected by this!?” She shouted at King, still meditating away.

Luz chuckled to herself, a slight skip in her step as she wandered through town. Eda was definitely in for a rude awakening, though Luz herself had once made the same mistake when she had to babysit kids, and she could honestly look back at that moment and laugh at herself over it. Glancing around, she idly noted the whispered mutters surrounding her, the way that parents pulled their kids aside as she walked past, though this time they weren’t as blatantly fearful of her presence at least, just more… hesitant. Luz shrugged, unwilling to begrudge the mild shift in treatment, as even a slight improvement was still an improvement.

“Luz!” Gus’ voice called out. Glancing ahead, she was pleasantly surprised to see Gus and Willow waving her over. Cheering up slightly, she hurried her pace, closing the distance between them. Reaching out, she pulled the two into a one-armed hug, smirking at their embarrassment at the affection. “Ah, please let go!” Gus comically begged, feet dangling below him. With a smirk, Luz released her grip, Willow stumbling slightly while Gus plopped to the ground.

“Please don’t do that so suddenly.” Willow said flatly, a look of good-humored warning in her eyes, prompting a chuckling Luz to raise her hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, just a little joke.” Luz said calmly, lowering her arms, idly noting the increased fervor of the whispers and mutters around them. Tuning them out, she asked, “So, what are you guys doing in town?”

“Eh, Principal Bump has been having teachers give out more combat-based homework, and we decided to find somewhere we could practice in peace.” Willow replied, giving a shrug.

“Cool. I’m looking for the library to return Eda’s overdue books.” Luz stated, patting the pack on her shoulder.

Gus beamed. “We can show you where it is!” He shouted exuberantly, prompting Luz and Willow to trade amused looks at their friend’s eager nature. Shaking their heads, Willow and Gus casually followed behind Gus as he ran up ahead. “Come on!” he called.

As they walked forward, Luz’s attention was drawn by a figure ranting to a small crowd nearby. She slowed, Gus and Willow pulling up next to her.

“And I’m saying that this is ridiculous!” The figure shouted, scaly head scrunched up in outrage. He glanced over his muttering audience. “How can we honestly say we trust the Emperor’s Coven when they let themselves get slaughtered by those damn humans!?” He shouted, a small smirk playing across his face at the sounds of agreement started cutting through the crowd.

“But they couldn’t have known the humans would’ve attacked!” One brave fellow called out, only to reel back at the glare the speaker up front sent his way.

“That shouldn’t matter! The Emperor’s Coven say they’re the best of the best, but they got butchered like Beast Demons!” The speaker rebuked, flames barking out of his throat. “They say they can protect us, but they can’t even protect themselves! They say they’re the strongest, the best, but they’re just a bunch of thugs and goons! Look at their leader, she had to cheat her way to where she got!! How can we trust them to keep us safe from those monsters!?” The rumbles of discontent and agreement at his words grew louder, the speaker basking in it all.

Gus and Willow exchanged nervous glances, while Luz just watched on, an inscrutable look on her face. “We should get moving.” Luz finally said, quickly walking away, the two Witches nodding in agreement, following after. None noticed as the speaker followed them with his eyes as the guards forcibly started breaking up the crowd, the audience noticeably less frightened about it as they normally would be, with a few even glaring at the guards openly. The speaker glanced at his nascent flock. It wasn’t much… but it was a start. He smirked.

King easily tuned out the shouts and screams around him. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he was screaming himself raw inside his own mind. In his mind’s eye, he glared hatefully at that damn pig who had dared to humiliate him. He was a King, no matter what anyone said, and a King protected their own. He had failed to protect his own; he had failed to help Eda. He growled internally, sinking into a stew of resentment. Luz had given him a gift, a way to regain his power and prestige as a fierce and powerful ruler, and he had been squandering it. He… felt small, weak, helpless like nothing else had managed.

Breathing deep, he felt the magic building, pooling in his throat, his lungs. He racked his brain, forcing it to recall more details from the book Luz had shown him, her words and lessons.

“So, what can I do with this?” He asked, glancing up at a smirking Luz.

Luz kicked back, leaning against the wall. ‘I honestly can’t say, really. At its most basic, that book will let you solidify sound and attack with it, but how far it can go is up to you.” She stated matter of factly, even as King squealed in rage.

“That tells me nothing!” He shouted, stomping his foot. He flipped through the book, eyes glazing at the words and odd depictions.

Luz shrugged, unconcerned. “Sorry, but magic is a personal journey. Education can give you a place to start, and a way to profit off of it traditionally, but to truly wield magic, you have to figure out what you want to do with it, and go from there.” She finished, clapping him lightly on his back, walking away.

“Hmph! What do I want? I want to be a powerful ruler, to make others bow before me!” He shouted, slamming the book down. “If I can use my magic to bring my enemies to my knees, I need nothing else!”

‘Making others bow didn’t work the way I wanted it to.’ He grunted internally, shaking off his reverie. Forcing himself to calm down, he recalled his fight, if you could call it that, with that annoying pig. He had left himself wide open, and nearly suffocated when the jerk bum rushed him. He could almost taste the idea on the tip of his tongue, could see the pictures from the book shifting into something new, something that would be able to wipe that smug little sneer off that pompous prick’s face.

He was a King, nothing would EVER change that. And he would not fail again. He forbid it.

“Late.” A librarian droned, passing Eda’s books through a magic circle. “Late.” He grabs the last one, quickly flipping through it. “Coffee, grass and bloodstains?” He glanced at Luz almost balefully. “These are Eda’s, aren’t they?”

“That was a wild night.” Luz sheepishly admitted. The librarian sighed, pulling out a scroll.

“I’ll just put it on her tab.” He muttered, quickly writing it down. “Just to let you know, we’ll be closing up early today for the Wailing Star meteor shower.”

Luz cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. “Wailing Star, eh? I’m gonna need to look that up. And speaking of Eda’s tab,” She pulled out a sack of assorted treasures she had… ‘borrowed’ over the year, “do you think I can pay some of it off with this?” She asked.

Blinking in surprise, the librarian quickly schooled his features, easily moving through the contents of the bag, sorting them with a clinical and considerate eye. Without missing a beat, he pulled the scroll with Eda’s tab listed on it, moving down and striking off bits and pieces as he scanned each jewel and bit of jewelry in the bag. Finishing, he sent the scroll away, giving Luz a grudging grin. “That should cover about four ninths of Eda’s tab. Thanks for that, not many people pay their tabs, and I can’t remember that last time anyone thought Eda would ever clear out part of hers. Keep your nose clean, kid.” And with that, he walked off, Luz heading into the library proper a second later.

She glanced about, and noted how similar, yet different, it was from the libraries back home. The kids were sitting at desks with crystal balls in front of them, which Luz had begun equating to Archive Terminals and Lacrima Receivers back home, scrolling through whatever mundane bit caught their eye, with a few seeming to actually be working on scholastic details.

Ducking quickly, Luz just barely avoided being brained by a flying book, grumbling at the unnecessarily dangerous methods the Isles used for almost everything. Spotting a nice table, she plopped herself down, sighing to herself. Without any form of prompting, she quickly pulled out the reference texts she would be using when she finally started her job, carefully monitoring each and every volume, eyes roaming the texts for damage.

“Man, I wish Gus and Willow didn’t have to head off.” She sighed. Technically, they said they didn’t want to spend their day in a den of nerdiness for fun. She just laughed, understanding not everyone would have similar interests as her. Carefully arranging her texts, she stood up, heading over to the stacks for anything that could be of use for explaining her subject matter to her students, and wasn’t THAT still a weird thought!

Casually leaning forward, she grasped a book, “Basics of Bile: A Studying Tool for Understanding Magic,” only for another hand to grab it at the same time.

“I believe my hand touched the book first.” A male voice said next to her. Turning, she shot the Witch boy an unimpressed look. A surly gaze stared back from tired looking red eyes, blond hair swept back, a small scar on his cheek. He cocked an eyebrow, a note of frustration entering his voice, “Are you just gonna stare, or are you gonna let go?” He challenged.

Luz blinked, stumbling back slightly. “Oh, I am so sorry.” She blustered, internally kicking herself. Normally, when she was analyzing someone, it was during a fight or from a distance. She had forgotten how off putting it was up close for others. “Just… looking into the basics, you know?” She shrugged.

The boy scoffed. “Yeah right. Considering what you did at the Covention, I doubt you need brushing up on the basics, particularly of magic you can’t use.” He marched off, throwing one last glare her way, an almost envious look in his eyes. “If you’re gonna lie, at least plan it out a little.”

“But I wasn’t-!” She started, only to trail off as he rounded a corner. “Lying. Ugh!” She groaned. Hopefully, she’d never see that guy again. He already got on her nerves.

#the owl house #fairy tail #owl house au #fairy tail au #owl house crossover #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #bat queen #king the owl house #hunter the owl house #willow park #gus porter #magic

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philliamwrites · 3 years

Text

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

“Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

“Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

“Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

“That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

“A μ.”

“No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

The whole room goes silent.

Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

“They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

“And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

“Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

“Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

“Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

“I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

“You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #aftg #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #andrew x neil #neil x andrew #andrew/neil #neil/andrew

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city-of-ladies · 3 years

Text

Women at war in the Catalan grand Chronicles

“Not all women close to the front lines of battle are of royal blood. Noblewomen, the wives and daughters of knights, are often called to active duty. During the French invasion of 1285, Dona Alicsèn de Montesquiu is credited with saving her town on the plains of Roussillon. She «did not allow the French to enter there but resisted them with much courage». No details are given as to her specific actions in battle, though she is clearly in command; the town is said to «belong» to her. Her military acumen is no doubt sharp as she defends her town from four full French assaults and inflicts heavy casualties.

The account of Malcalda Scaletta's role in the defense of Messina during the War of the Sicilian Vespers is a little more expansive. The wife of a captain in Peter III's army, Malcalda is described as being:

«... of high spirits and strong in courage and body; she was in truth as valiant as any knight and went about daily with thirty armed horsemen and kept guard over the city and stationed her soldiers wherever they were needed to do battle, whether on the walls or in any other place in the city.»

Malcalda's case is striking for a number of reasons. She takes on an active role in the absence of a man to defend her, but in the presence and with the apparent approval of her husband. As commander of thirty horsemen she must be well versed in military strategy and the use of arms. Her leadership is not exercised at a distance; rather, she rides with her knigths and seemingly at their side. It is no wonder when Peter III visits Messina that Malcalda participates in every council between king and captain. She is always at the king's side «when he walked forth or rode through the city or was hunting.» That Malcalda has won the respect of her male peers is perhaps best illustrated by the fact that Desclot deems her story worthy of inclusion in his chronicle in the first place.

While one might assume that Macalda Scaletta donned armor when riding about with her horsemen, it is certain that Mercadera, a woman who kept a shop in Perelada, did precisely this during the French invasion of 1285. With her town besieged by the French army, this woman puts on a man's gown, takes a lance, girds on a sword, carries a shield, and sallies forth to pick cabbages in the hort just outside the city walls. When she comes upon a French knight hopelessly lost in the hort's maze of irrigation ditches, quickly attacks. She wounds the man in the leg with her lance, subdues his horse by a blow to the head with her sword, grabs the reins, and cries, «Knight, you are a dead man if you do not surrender!». Wisely, the Frenchman complies. The woman is rewarded for her valor with the French knight's armor and 200 gold florins in rams on money that he raises. In addition, she is given an audience with the king and is asked to «relate many times how she had captured» the knight.

The chronicler Muntaner clearly sees this woman's actions as extraordinary, «a marvelous thing». His purpose in including her story is to ridicule the invaders and to show that «the anger of God» was upon the French. Yet this should not discount the story's veracity. Muntaner was a native of Peralada, was present during the French siege, and testifies to knowing the woman personally. Once again a woman is presented who acts independendy, without any intervention from a husband or male relative. She ventures outside the walls alone. She does not flee from but initiates the confrontation with the knight. She alone reaps the benefits ofher actions. While it is clear women did not often singlehandedly capture enemy soldiers, questions remain as to whether all of this woman's actions were so uncommon. How often did women go outside the walls of a besieged city to gather food? Did they do so alone or in groups? Guarded or unguarded? Armed or unarmed? Muntaner's ton suggests that the food-gathering expedition itself was not so odd; he does not comment on the novelty of the other circumstances.

The bravery of this love woman of Peralada is matched and perhaps exceeded by a whole «army» of women who defend the Catalan camp at Gallipoli. This incident is recorded by Muntaner and is again taken from his personal experience. While the greater portion of the army is away on a raid, Muntaner is left in command of seven knights, 135 footsoldiers, 2000 women, and an unrecorded number of children. In this vunerable state, they are attacked by the Genoese fleet. Because he lacks sufficient numbers to «man» the defense, Muntaner is forced to utilize women. «I made all the women who were there put on armour and ordered them to the walls». These irregular recruits fight well enough to earn a few lines of praise:

«The battle was very hard, and our women defended (the walls) with stones and pieces of rock in so masterly a manner it was marvelous; indeed, a woman was found there who had five wounds from flying stones on her face, who still continued the defense as if she was not hurt.»

(...)

The women in the Catalan Chronicles, however, raise issues that go beyond their individual «desperate times». When called up on, several of these women have skill with arms and knowledge of military strategy. Where was this training acquired and how widespread was it? In a society whose inheritance laws claimed that armor was passed to male heirs only, how did Mercadera of Peralada have access to sword, lance, and shield? The women at Gallipoli are not camp-following prostitutes; this raises questions about the participation of women in offensive armies.”

McMillin, Linda A. "Women on the Walls: Women and Warfare in the Catalan Grand Chronicles." Catalan Review 3:1 (July, 1989) pp. 123-136.

#history #women in history #warrior women #middle ages #medieval history #medieval women #badass women #catalan history #Dona Alicsèn de Montesquiu #Malcalda Scaletta #Mercadera #Women defenders at gallipoli #catalonia #13th century

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blissfulsun · 4 years

Note

could you pleasee do 70&76 with Jeff from the angst prompts? 💞

hello my darling!! I’m sorry this took a couple of days, but its lowkey my favourite thing Ive ever written???🥺 Hope u like it just as much, ily💓 I changed both the slightest to fit into the idea I had I hope u don’t mind!!

word count: 1,713

Pretty little fears // Jeff Wittek

Jeff Wittek was a name you knew all too well. Except it used to bring visions of playgrounds and games of hide & seek, later swapped in for nights of sneaking out and stolen liquor from your father's hidden cabinet. Now, the man standing across the living room resembled more of a stranger.

Yet you somehow noticed him, eyes still instantly drawn to his taller figure in any room, this one particularly overcrowded. Your attention shifts when the friends you came with suggest a move to the garden.

He's listening to Toddy's story, or rather trying to make sense of the drunken rambling when a familiar head of hair passes in the corner of his eyes. It can't be, he tries to convince himself, searching past surrouding faces netherless, hopeful of the outcome but you're already gone.

You keep missing each other like that most of the night, you intentionally and Jeff still unsure if longing for you has finally materialised into him imagining you there in person.

The two of you collide when David stumbles across your group of girlfriends and invites you guys to 'rate his hot and less hot friends for a video'. You have no reason to say no, unaware of his connection to your hometown friend, never one to care much about social media and its content.

You make eye contact the moment you pass the threshold into the kitchen where the vs is gathered, Jeff first to speak despite the initial shock. 'y/n/n?' Others quiten down around you, eager to understand the connection between the two of you.

‘Long time Wittek' he's slightly confused and hurt by the careless tone of your greeting, his own mind going a hundred miles an hour at simply having you in such close proximity again.

You're silently seething, body simultaneously hot with rage and cold with faked indifference. You remain that way as he closes the distance between you, stiff in his arms when Jeff pulls you into a tight embrace.

The two of you remain like that for a while, your body melting into his form without permission. When he pulls away eventually, it's only far enough to look down at your face and ask 'wanna head outside? We have some catchin' up to do'. You sigh and nod, all too knowing that he wouldn't really let you have the choice.

Jeff couldn't let you go now that you seemingly fell back into his life, his hands guiding you as if you were to get lost in the house you've been in for the better portion of the night, you let him have at least that.

As soon as the two of you are outside and in a less crowded area you step away, distancing yourself from him in spite of the puppy eyes he directs at you. 'Well?..' You ask, hands wrapping around your waist in an effort to appear stand offish, the effort noted but futile.

Jeff just thinks you look adorable trying to stay mad at him, the attempts always failing in the past: from the time he tripped and accidently fell into your pride and joy of a sandcastle at four to the days when he began to fall into the wrong crowd, showing up at your window past midnight, asking to stay the night in a broken voice you could never say no to.

That's what your relationship with Jeff was, you gave and gave and he took. It wasn't always the case, early formative years of your friendship spent in mutual affection. He would push, punch and kick the bullies and in return you would offer him half of your snacks.

Then it transitioned to fighting just about anyone, and for any reason, not just for you. Still, you would bandage up the cuts and bruises, gentle kisses healing his scars better than any ointment.

You were a team, is what both of you would say whenever questions arose, jealous girlfriends & boyfriends alike or your parents increasingly protective in light of his misbehaviours. Even his own mother, who really just wanted the best for him and you, unsure at one point if you could pull him back and if it was fair to put such pressure on a 17 year old girl. You couldn't, evidently.

Jeff continued to hang out with a crowd you refused to be around and then you left for college. He was upset at first, his fear of abandonment and simply missing you translating into weeks of radio silence until he showed up at your dorm, the two of you falling back into the friendship no one else could understand.

It was fine like that for a while and then he left for Miami, promising to stay safe and in touch, though less often than either of you would like. His seventh arrest was the final blow, you mostly unaware to the extent of his illegal activities and the number of times Jeff found himself behind bars. That last time was the worst, not only because he was sentenced to at least a couple of months but because his own mother finally informed you.

'Jeff? Seriously...' your anger snaps him out of reminiscing. You look far less eager to take a trip down memory lane, but if he's already taken up your time you might as well get some answers, you decide. 'Why?' you grit your teeth, continuing 'why did you abandon me?' It's a loaded question and you're terrified of it's outcome.

‘Darlin' Jeff tries, his hand reaching for your own but you stand your ground despite his softened expression. 'No. Enlighten me. How do you spend every day with someone, write and call for months and just...just lie until you had no choice but admit you were fuckin' dealing drugs Jeffrey.' You want to shout, holding back for the sake of not gathering yourself an audience.

Meanwhile he visibly flinches at the accusing tone of yours. After a couple of calming breaths you look up at his face and begin to feel small again, back to the little girl barely reaching his shoulders & always gripping at the sleeve of his jumper.

'That's not even the worst part...' your words are softer now, Jeff can't decide if that and the tears gathering in your eyes are worse than the angry dialogue. 'The worst part is that you never responded...to any of my letters. I drove hundred of miles as a broke ass student only to find out I was already written off your visitors list' you pause, looking up to the sky to gather yourself and prevent the waterworks begging to start.

He just watches you both in awe and undeniable pain, heart split between letting you go as to not relive the pain and bringing you into his arms, body aching for the familiar comfort no one else has ever been successful in replacing, not really. 'After everything we've been through?' The last question comes out broken.

'I'm sorry...' he scrambles to reword when he catches sight of the perplexed anger adorning your face. 'I...you were goin' places alright? You were always going to be someone great darlin'. I just slowed that down and then...the final arrest happened. And I...you didn't need to see me like that, behind bars. I would rather do it alone a million more times than to put you through that.'

Jeff can only hope his explanation comes across half as elegantly. It doesn't, he realises at your sudden outburst, 'That wasn't your choice to make! Fuck you.' The response draws some unwanted attention to the pair of you, his friends standing in a corner nearby and trying to work out your significance.

'Angel please...' Jeff decides to try an old method of calming you down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck under the cascading hair you let down for the night. Your mind is still focused on the erupting anger, but your body, it surrenders to the familiar hold, shoulders unwittingly losing tension and expression softening while he stares in your eyes.

'You weren't alone.' The softness with which you deliver your next response shocks you both. The thought continues at sight of his confusion, 'You didn't have to do it alone. We were a team, from the time we were barely four...' Jeff nods at that truth. 'I know...' he's not sure whether to continue, unsure if this was the right place or time but already in too deep with a single look into your glassy eyes.

‘I know but I loved you-' 'wha' your attempt at interruption and shocked expression is ignored. '-and I know you loved me too angel. That's why...I could never do that to you' The confession hangs in the air, but at least it's finally out there, Jeff thinks. Years of repressed emotions and regret spilling over in favour of gentle relief inside your childhood best friend.

You clear your throat, 'right..' the eye contact is broken as you force your body away from his hold. He's confused, heart dropping into his stomach in disappointment as you stiffly walk around him and back inside without another word.

Jeff takes the leap and catches up to you outside, short of breath from the chase. '-wait!! That's...that's it? ' he has to ask. You whip around to face him for the second time tonight.

‘Yes! That's fuckin' it you asshole. You single handedly ripped my heart out and disappeared from my life like it was the easiest thing in the world! Of course I have always loved you, you..you selfish arrogant little pri-' the rant was left unfinished, a soft pair of lips shutting you up.

Jeff had to kiss you. It's been all he's thought about since you stepped into the random kitchen a couple minutes ago, the need so intense and eerily reminscent of his teenage years and early adulthood, always left unfulfilled for your own sake.

This time...he's tired of denying himself the pleasure, years older and maybe wiser, unwilling to ever let you go again. 'm still mad at you..' you mumble when he finally has to pull away for some air. The laugh that escapes him both infuriates and enamores you further, 'I know darlin...but I love you too.'

#angels💓#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #im kind of??proud??of this one #let me know whT u thought my darlings #jeff wittek x reader

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fedtothenight · 3 years

Text

this competition asked to write a short story in the dystopian genre and my entry's below - don't rb!

the sweetest fruit

The boy gasped, straining against the padded frame of the jeep just as the vehicle slowly came to a halt. ‘Look!’ he shouted, pointing at a spot about a hundred feet from the group. ‘Look, Mum! That’s so cool!’

Half-instinctively, his mother had already grabbed a fistful of his tank-top, ready to yank him back. She had spent the entirety of the trip sitting as still as possible, facing forward, eyes stubbornly fixed on the self-cooling top of the car in a pointless effort to fight her motion sickness: her patience was already wearing very thin without her eight-year-old personal safety hazard trying to get himself killed.

‘Ethan, for the love of God,’ she snapped. ‘I already told you to stop leaning over the frame! Do you realise how dangerous that is?’

‘No, Mum, you’ve got to look!’

‘Emma, darling,’ her husband whispered, a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘You should really look at this. It’s magnificent.’

Whatever it was, even her fifteen-year-old daughter - who had spent the last thirty minutes texting her friends back home without so much as a glance at the scenery - was jaw-slacked, so she slowly got up on her wobbly knees and peered over her shoulders.

In the shadow of a tree, protected from the sweltering heat, two lions were feasting on a zebra. Perhaps belatedly, as it’d taken her a second to drink the sight in, she realised that the poor thing was still alive: writhing as blood, red and hot and pulsing, gushed out from where the bigger lion - the male - had bitten into its back.

The smaller one, the female, soundlessly sank its teeth into the dying animal’s neck, and the latter gave one last weak kick, finally falling limp. When the lioness stood again, it was almost impossible, from this distance, to see her eyes amidst the bloodied mess on her face.

‘Oh, my God, Matt,’ Emma said. ‘This is beautiful. Nature truly is beautiful.’

‘You don’t really get to see this kind of show anywhere else today,’ their guide said from the driver’s seat. He sounded proud, as if he’d hunted and fed the zebra to the lions himself.

Alberto wasn’t wrong, Emma reasoned. Given that they were parked in the middle of the privately-owned biggest North American savanna, he - or rather, his employer - was the one effectively feeding the lions. Like feeding mice to cats. She glanced at her children, glad they could have a window on a reality that was long gone. To think it would have taken a trip around the world to watch this spectacle - imagine the motion sickness then! If only, she considered wistfully, there could be a way of replicating glaciers just as accurately.

‘Honestly, it seems a bit unfair that they get to eat real meat,’ Ethan said at the dinner table a few hours later. He was picking at his plate, moving the fried grasshoppers they’d been served for dinner around, but not really eating any. ‘While we are stuck with insects and microprotein or whatever.’

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired and sunburnt, her sensitive pale skin suffering under the blistering sun of the region, so different from the temperate weather back home North. She had a splitting headache, too. She was, yet again, at the so-called end of her tether. ‘Ethan…’

‘You should be glad you get to eat at all,’ her daughter said at the same time. ‘There’s a reason it’s illegal to eat meat. These animals are here for show, anyway. They were originally from Africa.’

‘Shut up, Becca,’ Ethan mumbled. ‘Everybody knows there are no animals in Africa. There’s nothing there.’

Becca’s cheeks were tinted pink, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Of course there were animals. There were animals everywhere before the Climate Crunch.’

‘Both of you, stop it,’ Matt interjected. ‘Ethan, your sister is right. You should be grateful that we are here in the first place. That said…’ He leant forward, voice down to a whisper: ‘I have a surprise for you. Or, well, Richard has a surprise for us. When he arrives tomorrow, he’ll bring us real meat. Bovine meat.’

‘But it’s illegal,’ said Becca.

‘It’s technically illegal,’ Matt acknowledged. ‘It’s not if you know how to get some and no one from Animal Conservation finds out. Do you think our president only eats insects? Please, Becca. Use that big brain of yours.’

‘Yes,’ Ethan snickered. ‘Use your brain, Becca.’

‘That is too generous,’ Emma said. ‘Inviting us here in the first place was, when even he hasn’t gotten here yet. Now this. I wouldn’t know how to repay him.’

Truly, all she felt was jealousy. Her guts twisted with the sheer force of it. Yes, she had known that Richard was comfortable. The gated, heavily guarded estate spanned for thousands of acres, comprised the 5000sqt villa they were staying at (five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a cinema, marble floors and solar panels on the rooftop), an indoor swimming pool inspired by vintage photos of Amalfi, two indoor tennis courts, and the savanna they’d explored earlier in the day. ‘The biggest conservation area in North America since they repurposed the Midwest,’ he’d bragged in a video call, two weeks before. ‘You will love it. The holiday you deserve. Make yourselves at home.’

But meat? He could get meat?

Matt’s family had designed DeNuketify, which was basically the only effective way of purifying ocean water from whatever nuclear waste Japan kept spewing so that it could be used and, most importantly, drunk. They had managed to flee the continent with the last handful of greencards about the time her family did, too, taking their precious Queen’s accent with them to found Nova London. She was the governor of Nova London now, for God’s sake. The bloody queen herself was long dead but she was alive, and yet, yet - they had never had meat.

‘We don’t have to, Emma,’ Matt said. ‘We just need to remember how lucky we are to enjoy this meal, this house, this holiday. Look at that,’ and he nodded towards the TV screen again. ‘Actually, Alexa!, volume up!, I think the Italians have finally surrendered.’

The war correspondent’s voice grew louder. She - they, Emma reminded herself: Becca always told her not to assume anyone’s gender - was wearing a dust mask and reading from a bundle of documents. ‘The last military hospital in the island of Palermo was destroyed four days ago by a Canadian airstrike,’ they were saying. ‘The rebels surrendered soon after, followed by the group of extremists in the Nebrodi island. Etna had already surrendered last year.’

‘It’s important to remember that these actions were necessary to finally put a rest on the instability of the region,’ they added. ‘Canada will fund a complete restoration of the Southern archipelago. The remaining civilians will be provided with a shelter and then, when the time comes, a suitable job. Nova Italia will be the sixteenth Canadian state, the fourth offshore. There are also hopes to extract petroleum from the seabed of the sunken city of Gela.’

‘Watch them make it into a holiday hotspot,’ Matt commented. ‘The weather is still nice there.’

‘Ooh, I heard about this.’ Becca picked her phone back up and started furiously typing away. ‘There’s this journal entry soldiers found over there, under the rubble, that’s gone viral. It was translated into English. Wait, I’ll pull it up. Alexa, volume down.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear it,’ Emma said, uneasy. ‘We’re on holiday. Should we not watch a movie? Something funny?’

Becca waved her away, as if she was an annoying fly. ‘It’ll be good practice for my drama class.’

Matt didn’t help—he simply shrugged, half-apologetic, as if to say: Let her do her thing.

Becca made a show of clearing her throat, too, before she started reading from her phone—her high voice now grave, studied, as if she were speaking to a larger audience: ‘I wonder what peas taste like.’

Right then, the scene on screen changed to footage of what looked like a destroyed village, something out of an apocalyptic movie. Emma found herself unable to look away.

‘Nonna used to say that her own great-grandmother grew them in her garden. Figs, too,’ Becca read. ‘They say they were the sweetest fruit.’

Emma wondered if this journal was actually written by a child or a teenager. It didn’t sound like an adult at all. She couldn’t help but picture a girl, a brunette, not much older than Becca, perhaps a rebel, or a trainee nurse on the sweet cusp of adulthood, holding this journal of hers, or perhaps a gun. It violently reminded her that her own daughter, too, would have to serve her time in the Forces in three years.

On screen, the Canadian soldiers walked among the ruins, zigzagging between torn up clothes and discarded weapons, surely looking for surviving rebels under the rubbles.

‘Isn’t it silly that we can hear the fighters overhead and that all I can do is think about food?’ said Becca. ‘I wish we could also eat figs and be happy.’

On screen, the camera zoomed in on a long-forgotten man's shoe, some crumpled photographs, on a pile of bodies in black bin bags.

‘Grandma - I miss her - left me a poetry book, too, from T.S. Eliot. I hope the book is with me when I die, so I can give it back to her when we meet again, afterwards. So I can tell her that T.S. Eliot was wrong.’

On screen, one of the soldiers approached and showed a little trinket to the camera: a bloody, heart-shaped locket that must’ve once been golden, hiding the miniature pictures of two brunette children that would never have a name.

‘That’s enough,’ Emma said. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. ‘Stop reading.’

‘The world may have not ended with a bang, but it didn’t end with a whimper, either: the world didn’t end at all. Sometimes,’ Becca finished reading, ‘I wish it had.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Matt scoffed. ‘Everyone should feel lucky to be alive. I bet this journal is a fake. Alexa, turn the TV off.’

As the screen faded to black, Ethan finally popped a grasshopper in his mouth. ‘I can’t wait to have meat tomorrow.’

#my writing #honestly dystopia is not a genre i'm interested in #lol #this was lazy and i wrote it in one morning while i was hungover on negroni

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good-rwbyaus · 3 years

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Can we get Pyrrha's reaction to Professor Ruby?

Becoming AU: [ Piece 1-5 ] [ P: Weiss ] [ P: Yang ] [ Piece 6 ]

logo-comics asked: What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

// Yes you can! Here ya go. Also, Happy Thanksgiving for those who celebrate it! Also Cardin vs Ruby. Yes. - lilac

Perspective : Pyrrha

The pairing system had picked Ruby and Cardin to fight in the sparring ring, which was a shame because she really wanted to give the guy a second beating today. However she wasn’t feeling too much loss, because she’d finally get to see how the girl who stole all the spotlight from her would perform.

Not that she was jealous or anything – well, a tiny part of her that had gotten used to the adulation might’ve been, but for the most part, she felt relieved and grateful. She wasn’t the one who had to carry the weight of people’s expectations anymore; it was Ruby who bore it instead. Despite how grateful she felt, she still wanted to fight the other girl – wanted to experience how the presumed professor-in-training fought.

Beyond their brief interaction in the Emerald Forest, she didn’t really know Ruby – the girl who’d been the center of rumors since her arrival, and it was hard to distinguish truth from lie. Maybe this spar, Ruby’s first public debut against another Hunter-in-training, would help elucidate things.

Now Cardin wasn’t a bad fighter by any means – a bad person, yes - but he knew his strengths and could leverage them well. However, her own strong points coincidentally met Cardin’s strong points perfectly; his strength and tenacity might’ve matched hers, but she had far more agility and flexibility. Combine that with subtle uses of Polarity to magnify the strength of her strikes, it was easy to turn a parry into both a disarming blow and quick surrender.

However the strong points that served Cardin well countered Ruby’s strongest point, her speed. And the sparring ring was not suited for long range combat; it would be a tightrope walk if the younger girl wanted to employ guerilla tactics.

Yes.

It’ll be interesting to see how Ruby would approach this.

-----

“Are you sure you’re a professor?” Cardin taunted as he swung around aggressively, Ruby darting side to side to avoid his crater-creating blows. Their chase had lasted for over several minutes now, neither gaining much ground against the other.

“Are you sure you’re not an idiot? Weren’t you there when the Headmaster made the announcement?” The girl growled back at the clearly touchy subject as she fell back, creating distance and retaliating with sniper fire. The bullets pinged off Cardin’s armor for the most part, and the ones that headed for his uncovered extremities were deflected by his mace instead.

“The school’s still talking about you being one. And well I’m not impressed,” he posed with his mace on his shoulder. Several quiet cheers came from the audience. An inevitable thing honestly. Cardin was the perceived underdog in this situation, a student versus a professor-in-training. The only odd thing was that Professor Goodwitch hadn’t told the class to quiet down.

Ruby’s reply was a shot to his nether regions, one that he quickly deflected but the resulting clang still made a good portion of the class wince.

Incited, Cardin charged forward with a rage-filled yell, and their game of tag begun once again.

Ruby’s movements were always efficient and purposeful. Instead of constantly stepping back, she staggered her motion diagonally, never allowing Cardin to fully use his gathered momentum. However, the rare times she’d be forced into melee combat, they’d exchange a couple blows, never actually hitting each other, but then Ruby would always be the first to disengage, limbs trembling.

For a while, she thought the trembling was due to Cardin’s blows being heavier than what the younger girl could handle. But that wasn’t right. Ruby would never fully block a hit; she either parried a blow cleanly or avoided it entirely. If she were forced to directly block, she didn’t resist the blow’s momentum at all and allowed herself to fly away like a petal in a breeze.

It was those rare blows that made it seem like Cardin was winning, even though their Aura levels were equally low. She couldn’t help but feel like the younger girl was holding back some, though that didn’t make sense. Ruby didn’t like Cardin, especially after he messed with Jaune a couple times. Of course, Cardin didn’t do these things where Ruby could see him; Cardin was after all a bully and still afraid of the girl’s potential authority.

In any case, holding back was only if you wanted to spare the person embarrassment or if you wanted to hide your trump cards. But from the irritated look on Ruby’s face, she clearly didn’t want to do either of those. So why hasn’t the younger girl won yet? Everything was in her control, so why did she continue dragging things out?

Cardin cornered Ruby again, and it looked like they were again going to physically clash. Cardin swung for the girl’s shoulder, but Ruby had already swung to parry like everything was preplanned.

But what would happen if she….

… if she took away that control for just a moment...Pyrrha’s finger twitched.

The swinging mace suddenly acquired a slightly higher, slightly faster arc, enough to bypass the scythe that was swung to meet it. The young girl’s silver eyes rose in panic, and her feet were already pivoting and stepping back in an attempt to absorb the bl-

Crack.

...That wasn’t what she intended.

The blow struck the young girl cleanly against her shoulder, her red aura flickering as though it were about to disperse. She could see Cardin’s lips open to declare his triumph, but the younger girl swiftly spun with the momentum Cardin imparted to her. The moment Cardin finished out his swing, the muzzle of Ruby’s weapon already slammed straight into his throat, silencing whatever he was going to say.

That wasn’t what caught her attention though. It was Ruby’s eyes, previously angry and colored with emotion – now calm and calculating and empty. Were they always that cold shade of silver?

She saw Ruby’s finger press against the trigger of her weapon.

There was about to be an accident.

No. What has her meddling done?!

But the gunshot she expected never occurred.

Instead, Cardin stumbled backwards onto the ground, his mace clattering by his side. Choking noises came from his figure. His hands were clutched around his throat as he struggled to breathe, eyes bulging out in pain.

Ruby meanwhile shakily stood, her entire body trembling and barely keeping herself upright using her weapon as support. She kept her head lowered as she panted, her eyes covered by her bangs. No one could see the girl’s expression.

Cardin’s fear-filled eyes said it all though. Pyrrha wasn’t the only one who knew how close he came to dying; he also saw how close Ruby had been to pulling that trigger. Cardin might’ve still had Aura in reverse, but after a blow to the throat like that, even if the subsequent sniper shot didn’t outright kill him, it likely would’ve left him hospitalized for months – if he got out all.

Professor Goodwitch’s voice broke through the sudden chatter that erupted in the classroom.

“Miss Rose’s aura is in the red zone. Mister Winchester is victorious.”

================================

The fight haunted her. Not only did she nearly cause an accident, she led Ruby directly into a loss against someone she didn’t like. All she wanted to do was make the younger girl panic a little to see what’d she do, not directly take a mace strike with her body. For over a week, she saw the girl tentatively rub her shoulder on occasion and even wince when accidentally jostled.

Maybe that was why when the Weapons Club started, she volunteered to be Ruby’s assistant as a means to atone, and it was through this that she got to truly know the other girl. First of all, Ruby knew her stuff when it came to weapons, even more so than fighting. The girl was a genius in this area, able to figure out how a weapon generally worked within a few seconds of manipulation and then determine the areas where it needed improvement a couple more seconds after that.

Honestly, Ruby outperformed most diagnostic machines in both time and accuracy, and that expertise really cemented Ruby’s reputation as a professor despite all her vehement denials.

It also rooted the impression that Ruby, despite being bubbly and generally friendly, was a strange and weird girl. For one, she rarely remembered people’s names, but she’ll remember your weapon down to the type of metal, its style of smithing, and whatever dust options it had - oh, and the name you gave it too. Also when she thinks no one’s paying attention, she’ll talk at the weapon she’s holding as if it were alive.

She couldn’t help but feel that Ruby was lonely at Beacon. Apart from team JNPR and RWBY, she didn’t really have anyone else. When she spoke to her team about it, Ren had put it quite nicely. The girl’s perceived position made it hard for her to have friends outside of those who already knew her well: you could certainly be friends with a teacher, but there are always something things you’ll feel more comfortable telling your peers than an authority.

And the more she interacted with her, the more she felt like Ren was correct. Ruby denied being a professor so aggressively because the girl clearly knew this reasoning deep down inside, and all Ruby wanted to do was to live a normal student life. And it was sad because if there wasn’t this rumor going around, a lot more people would be unofficially adopting an adorable younger sister to their team.

Pyrrha glanced over at Ruby, sleeping over a bunch of well-marked papers and documents: books on leadership, documents on practical marksmanship, and pamphlets on basic dust usage. A hint of drool was hanging by the corner of the girl’s lips.

“Why do you try so hard?” she couldn’t help but ask to the sleeping girl.

What made a fifteen-year old work this hard? Maybe only Ruby knew the answer to the question.

...All that hard work that she nearly managed to completely sabotage. Guilt struck her once again – she’d been meaning to apologize, but she just didn’t know how. How could she explain it to her friend now?

‘Oh sorry Ruby. I manipulated things to make Cardin win. But I really don’t hate you at all. I just wanted to see what would happen.’ Ugh. She guiltily glanced over the sleeping girl – Pyrrha still couldn’t figure out what had gone over her.

She probably would’ve cared less if she didn’t like her – she’d still feel guilty, yes, but it’d bother her less. But now that she’d gotten to know Ruby – became close friends with the lonely girl that’s always full of bubbly energy and the occasional snarky comment – she could feel the guilt eating away at her inside.

She’ll atone. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to tell her, she’ll pay the price through her actions instead. She’ll stand by her side no matter what, because in the end Ruby was one of her best friends. She owed this much to her.

Speaking of, it was getting late, wasn’t it?

Shaking her head free of the morose thoughts, Pyrrha smirked mischievously and quickly pinched the girl’s cheek before pulling.

The younger girl immediately woke and yelped, hands flailing and sending papers askew.

“whatthehellareyoudoing?!gidoff!”

================================

They were alone now. Jaune had cut down the Ursa and in the process saved Cardin; with any luck, the bully would stop bothering Jaune about his transcripts now.

But in the process of doing so, she revealed her Semblance to both Weiss and Ruby. And from the way Ruby stayed back, she was now going to pay the piper.

“So you did it,” Ruby said quietly, “You were the one who interfered with my fight.” The girl turned around with a betrayed expression on her face. “The Executioner didn’t move that way on its own.”

“I…I’m sorry,” Pyrrha quietly said, hand against her arm and slightly squirming against the shorter girl’s laser-like gaze, “I’m really sorry. I-“

“Do you know what could’ve happened?” the girl cut her apologies off, throwing down her arms angrily.

“I…yes.” Pyrrha nodded her head, looking straight at the ground and unable to meet Ruby’s eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if Ruby gained that oppressive demeanor from Professor Goodwitch.

“Then why?” Ruby nearly all but screamed. It was then she knew that day had left its mental scars on the Huntress: how close Ruby came to ending the life of a fellow student, both of them knew. It was clear the girl wanted an explanation now, and she definitely deserved one. The only question was if she could accept it.

“I was stupid,” Pyrrha admitted. “I saw you were holding back. You kept the fight completely under control to the point no one in class noticed… And I wanted to see what you’d reveal once you lost that control.” She shook her head, “I never... expect all that to happen.”

“You. Just for that stupid reason.”

Ruby was right. It was a stupid reason. She kept her bowed down low, the guilt weighing her down. “Yeah, I was being stupid. I promise you it had nothing to do with you specifically. I just wanted to see how well a good fighter would adapt.”

“…I’m sorry that I put you in that position. I’m sorry that I got one of my best friends hurt,” Pyrrha sobbed, “I…”

Ruby glared at her and then shook her head. The girl turned around and started walking away, the sight leaving Pyrrha cold inside. She lowered her head once more, watching her tears fall to the ground. She’d just lost a good friend this day. She wanted to say more things, but it was clear that Ruby had nothing else to say to her.

The younger girl didn’t want anything to do with her now.

---

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Huh?

Pyrrha lifted her head. A crimson blur was the only thing she registered before it slammed straight into her. Immediately, she bowled over and cut a course through the dirt. Her body felt sore after the collision, and she managed to get enough of her bearings to see the younger girl that just slammed into her stand up.

Stepping to the side, Ruby crossed her arms with a frown and declared, “Okay, I’m still mad at you, but now we’re even. ” Ruby paused briefly, probably having noticed the confusion in her face, as she further explained, “We weren’t friends then, but we’re friends now…”

“Right?”

Pyrrha, slowly sitting up, nodded her head, “I… Yeah.” Her tone became more confident and empathetic. “Of course.”

Ruby offered a hand to her, the corners of the girl’s lips curling up slightly despite her clear intention to maintain her frown.

“So yeah, we’re even,” the girl repeated.

Taking up the offered hand, Pyrrha felt herself being lifted up before Ruby’s grip suddenly slackened, and she fell back down on her behind with a plop.

Somewhat shocked, Pyrrha looked back up at Ruby and couldn’t help but choke at the sight – whether it was a laugh or surprise she didn’t quite know.

The younger girl was hobbled over, holding onto her now red hand and opening her mouth in silent agony.

Before she could apologize, Ruby was already speaking.

“Ow! Ow. Ow. Pyrrha, how much milk do you drink to make your shoulder so hard?” the younger girl accused.

“Uh. Sorry, Ruby. But after working with Pumpkin’s Pete’s, I don’t really drink milk anymore.”

The affronted look on Ruby’s face was priceless.

It was there that she knew that everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

#rwby fic #rwby au #rwby #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos #cardin winchester #mod lilac #Anonymous #becoming au

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foxghost · 3 years

Text

Joyful Reunion, Chapter 34

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 1, Chapter 9 (part 3)

Duan Ling wakes with a violent start.

The bell is tolling on and on, one ring after another; from the outside comes the cries of panic. He immediately reaches out for the sword he keeps by the bed, and out of the furor he manages to discern one phrase, “The Mongol army is here!”

This is the second attack by Mongolian forces on Shangjing in two years, and the last time they attacked it was nearing autumn as well; it just so happens that a year has gone by since. Duan Ling straps his sword on at once, and takes down the longbow hanging in the parlour. As soon as he reaches the back courtyard he sees boulders and flaming canisters being tossed into the city. Fire has begun to spread.

People are running around in the streets crying fire, and Duan Ling passes through another street, to join a group passing buckets of water. Soon, another boulder flies into the city.

“This place won’t hold!” Duan Ling calls out, “Everyone, flee to the northern district —!”

The western district of Shangjing is in complete chaos — the Mongol army has somehow made it to the city gates without drawing anyone’s attention. Flames are shooting up everywhere, and siege ladders have already been placed against the western gate; there are even Mongolian soldiers who fought their way into the city, raising their weapons high.

The city hasn’t been captured yet! We were only attacked by surprise! Duan Ling leaps onto the roof, draws his longbow, and kills an isolated Mongolian soldier. Another soldier who’s stolen a horse passes through the back street, setting fires wherever he goes, and Duan Ling shoots him off his horse too.

By the time he fires the third arrow the enemy has already discovered him, and they come at him with loud curses, turning a heavy crossbow on him. Duan Ling steps behind the eaves and does a flip over the edge of the roof. Sword in hand, he detours around the back courtyard, and with one thrust of his sword he kills another man.

The city guard rushes forth from all directions to cut down the invading enemy, and at long last they manage to contain the chaos. And yet the war drums are starting to beat outside the city; Yelü Dashi arrives hurriedly with his troops, closing the city gates entirely, barring all entry.

At daybreak, Duan Ling runs over to Cai Yan’s house. The Cai estate’s gates are closed and barred, and he doesn’t find anyone there; Duan Ling heads to Helian Bo’s house then and no one is there either. The streets are in a state of total disarray, some people are resorting to reciting the sutras while others simply focus on fleeing. Duan Ling is left with little option but to go home again, and when he gets there he finds a girl outside his door waiting for him. He knows that she’s from the Viburnum, but he can’t quite recall her name.

“Mister Duan, the madam would like to invite you over to the Viburnum,” the girl says with a bow.

Duan Ling puts the bow on his back and follows her. Gradually, Shangjing calms down, and occasionally one can hear the whimper of someone crying. The afternoon sun is such a bright white that it stings his eyes. When they arrive at the Viburnum the girl tells him, “Please rest here, Mister Duan. Once the madam finishes the work she has on hand she will ask to see you.”

“Go on,” Duan Ling says.

Before the girl leaves, Ding Zhi has come to see him. They nod at each other and Ding Zhi asks him, “Would you like something to eat, sir? I’ll get something made right away.”

“There’s no need to trouble yourselves.”

Ding Zhi bows and withdraws from the room then. Duan Ling drinks some water, eats a bit of pastry to satisfy his hunger, and puts down his sword and bow before stepping out of the room. He jumps onto the wall hoping to see into the distance but finds black smoke rising in every direction; he simply leaps onto the roof then, and with his feet on the roof tiles he sits there, looking out at the city.

“The madam begs for an audience,” a silvery voice below him says.

Duan Ling glances down; Xunchun has arrived. She sends her attendants away before bowing to him.

“What’s going on?” Duan Ling asks.

“Not long ago, during the civil war in the south, whenHis Highness and Zhao Kui confronted each other before Jianmenguan, Zhao Kui urgently redeployed thirty thousand troops away from the east road’s Yubiguan and made them march south.” Xunchun says grimly, “He was hoping to attack Jiangzhou by surprise and cut off His Highness’s escape, causing him to face enemies on both sides. However, while the soldiers were redeployed, there was no battle. Before the reinforcements arrived, Mu Kuangda coordinated in a plot with His Highness and Jianmenguan surrendered.”

“Within two days.” Xunchun looks into the courtyard. “The entire Xichuan road was recovered. The bells were tolled nine times at Mount Wenzhong; his Third Highness took charge of the city of Xichuan.”

“At the same time, since the garrison within Yubiguan had been greatly weakened, the Mongolians climbed over the natural border of Mount Jiangjun to invade Liao. They went right past Huchang and came directly for Shangjing. Three days ago, they dispatched a squad disguised as foreign traders and sent them into Shangjing. Once inside the city, they launched an ambush and killed the gate guards, opening the city gates. Thankfully, they were discovered in time and the western gate remains secure.”

Xunchun finishes, “There are ten thousand Mongolian soldiers outside, marching without hindrance. All that’s left inside the city are two thousand city guards and ten thousand troops. Before the enemy could surround the city, the Northern Prince sent messengers toward south and west asking for reinforcements.”

“What about my grandfather?”

“He’s dead. Before His Highness left, he told me that as soon as the situation in the south is set, whether the one to accede to the throne is himself or the Fourth Prince, you will be the heir-apparent. We must treat you with all the courtesy one would give the emperor.”

Duan Ling gives her a nod.

“That’s why Your Highness mustn’t do anything dangerous. If you need anything, please ask.”

“Thanks.” Duan Ling jumps down from the flying eaves. Xunchun turns away and leaves with graceful steps.

He has no idea where Cai Yan has gone. Duan Ling begins staying at the Viburnum from that night on. Inside its walls it feels like nothing ever happened; outside it’s as clamorous as before, but the women are making Double Seven Festival pastries in the Viburnum’s garden. Duan Lilng notices that whenever he passes through an occupied place, whether men or women, everyone at the Viburnum would stop and bow to him.

He worries about Cai Yan, worried that after Cai Wen’s death he’ll seek revenge for his older brother without regard for his life, and so he sends people to search for his whereabouts.

Xichuan.

Li Jianhong is sitting on the imperial throne; the chair itself was brought here all the way from the former capital, but alas the land where this chair used to sit has already become Khitan territory.

“Even years ago, father was already in ill health,” Li Jianhong says.

Li Yanqiu stands in a corner looking through the window panes. Shafts of twilight slant into the room one by one.

“I still remember how we used to chase each other around in front of that chair when we were little.” Li Yanqiu says, “In the blink of an eye, so many years have gone by.”

“You be the emperor,” Li Jianhong says.

“You do it.”

“You do it. Not another word out of you. It’s decided.”

Li Yanqiu shakes his head helplessly, but Li Jianhong begins to smile.

“I have a son. You’ll like him when you meet him.”

“Where are you hiding him?”

“Shangjing. In a few days, once you accede, I’ll go get him.”

“I will treat him as my own.”

Li Jianhong nods. The brothers are silent for a long time before Li Yanqiu speaks again, “Are we moving the capital?”

“When it comes down to it, Xichuan is the Mu family’s domain, so let’s leave it to them.” Li Jianhong says gravely. “I have always been opposed to the idea of moving here to Xichuan.”

“You need to be on guard around him.”

“We absolutely cannot hurt him right now. The new court isn’t yet stable, the gentry class have their roots dug well into the government, so all we can do is lie in wait.”

Li Yanqiu heaves a long sigh.

Li Jianhong whistles; it sounds especially abrupt within the palace hall. A guard opens the door and enters.

“Bring that guy in here,” Li Jianhong says. “It’s been long enough.”

Li Yanqiu says, “You should’ve just let Chang Liujun kill him. Why go through all this trouble?”

“I don’t want to kill anymore.” Li Jianhong says wearily, “I’ve killed enough people along the way. And whether or not the Mus want to kill me has nothing to do with this man.”

Soon, his subordinate brings in Wu Du. Wu Du’s face is covered in bruises, all his wounds have been dressed and his hands are wrapped in bandages.

“Speak.” Li Jianhong leans back in the Dragon Throne. Li Yanqiu sits near him, watching Wu Du.

“Your words will decide who lives, and who dies.” Li Jianhong’s eyes are closed. “This includes your own life. Speak.”

Wu Du stares at the white jade bricks on the floor in silence; its white tiger pattern is detailed and life-like.

“I didn’t keep you alive because I wanted to see a mute.” Li Jianhong asks, “How much of a hand did Mu Kuangda have in Zhao Kui’s plans?”

“None. Master Wangbei had a disciple who’s also a killer.”

“Mu Kuangda said that?”

“The general said that. He wanted to hire this man to deal with Your Majesty.”

“Did Chancellor Mu agree to this?” Li Jianhong asks.

“No.”

“Did he refuse?” Li Yanqiu asks.

“Not that, either.”

Li Yanqiu laughs. “What an old fox.”

“What else is there?” Li Jianhong says, “If you were one of my people and gave me one answer for every one question like that, I may have chopped off your head before I get to the second question.”

“From the beginning to the end he only ever said he won’t do it. There’s no evidence. But he does intend to be disloyal.”

“If we can convict people for disloyal intentions, who knows how many people would be dead already. Forget it, I’ll let him live for now.”

Wu Du raises his head and looks up at Li Jianhong.

“You can go.” Li Jianhong says, “Go wherever you want."

Wu Du takes a step back, hesitating. Right then, the palace doors open wide and a panting messenger dashes in. He drops to his knees in the hall and raises a dispatch with both hands above his head.

“Mongolian forces have marched south, ten thousand cavalry besieges Shangjing, Yelü Dashi would ask for your help! Your Majesty, please aid Shangjing break the siege!”

Li Jianhong has just come back to Xichuan only to find that his back courtyard has suddenly caught fire; he’s momentarily stunned and at a loss.

The Mongolians really have come too quickly. Zhao Kui had barely redeployed the troops garrisoned at Yubiguan before they flooded in and breached Liao territory. Most troubling of all is that the Khitans seem to utterly lack the strength to resist them — a wide stretch of territory to the north of Huchang is now occupied. Zhongjing has dispatched troops as reinforcements, and Yelü Dashi has immediately recalled the army Li Jianhong borrowed, hoping he can aid them in this dire predicament.

“I believe we should not send troops,” Mu Kuangda says.

The Xichuan palace has waited for nearly ten years, but now they finally have someone in charge whom every functionary must bow to.

However, Li Jianhong’s position hasn’t been made official yet, and his personality also greatly differs from successive emperors who came before. The court functionaries have just managed to escape a purge by Zhao Kui, and now they argue with great devotion to the empire that now is the best opportunity to seize both Liao and Yuan — the reason is quite simple: when the sandpiper and the clam are at war, the fisherman merely has to wait to catch both.

They’ve been waiting to see Yuan and Liao declare war on each other since the Battle of Huai River. Shangzi and the loss of their capital hasn’t been avenged as of yet, so how can he take the liberty to send troops?

Let’s put it this way: all he has to do is return the Khitan army he borrowed.

He can’t break faith with Yelü Dashi and become an object of ridicule, but he can at least take his time getting there, can’t he?

Your Majesty, you defended Shangjing for Yelü Dashi so it’s only right for the Khitans to pay you back.

Li Jianhong merely listens to them impatiently, with the furrow between his brows deepening into a knot.

“Your Majesty?” Mu Kuangda asks tentatively.

“Are you all quite done?”

The officials in the palace hall stare at Li Jianhong. They’ve already heard the rumours regarding Prince of Beiliang’s stubbornness, and it turns out he’s just as obstinate as rumoured.

“Your Majesty.” Mu Kuangda says, “The former emperor is dead, and a nation cannot go without a sovereign even for a single day. You must accede to the throne as soon as possible in order to placate the masses. As for whether to send troops, we can consider that at length. There’s no country in the world who’d send troops to aid its neighbour when it doesn’t even have a lord. Whether for sentimental or logical reasons, it is highly inappropriate.”

“Let’s not be so hasty with the ‘Your Majesty’ — did I agree I’d do it? Go make preparations now. The Fourth Prince will be enthroned tomorrow. Ministry of War, make inventory and get provisions ready. We march by tomorrow afternoon.”

“But we must always choose an auspicious day for the ascension …” says the Director of Astronomy.

Li Jianhong shoots him a look. The Director of Astronomy falls to his knees. “This goes against the customs!”

“Your Majesty.” Mu Kuangda insists, “Seniority is important to the hierarchy. We cannot overstep these bounds. Even the celestial family has to abide by the rules.”

“When Zhao Kui’s underlings had me on the run all over the north,” Li Jianhong blurts out, “How come I didn’t hear any of you say ‘seniority is important to the hierarchy’?”

The hall descend into a solemn silence. There is an obvious threat in what Li Jianhong said — if you won’t let me send troops, then just you wait for me to excavate old grievances.

“Even so, Your Majesty must be enthroned first.” Mu Kuangda finally makes a compromise. “In these desperate times we can finish the ceremony as quickly as possible. Then once Your Majesty can oversee the court, you can send out troops from Yanzhou, and send the Imperial Palace Guards along with the falcon unit to attack the Mongolian defensive perimeter at Yubiguan. Ögedei will then have to turn his army around to save themselves. That way Liao will be out of danger.”

“Liao will be out of danger.” Li Jianhong says coldly, “But there won’t be anything left of Shangjing.”

“The Mongolians are attacking a city, so of course they will massacre that city. Such karma will come back to haunt their descendents. It is no different than how the Khitans’ iron horseshoes trampled Great Chen’s sovereign territory back then. Your Majesty, in all likelihood, Shangjing cannot be defended.”

Li Jianhong doesn’t try to argue with him. Instead, he says, “Let’s dismiss this assembly. Forego the pagentry at tomorrow’s ascension ceremony. Ministry of War, get the provisions ready tonight. If you’re still dragging your feet and haven’t issued the provisions by noon tomorrow, come see me with your own severed head. Assembly dismissed.”

Li Jianhong has listened for ages without letting a single argument move him, and if anyone should pay him lip service without doing any of the work, he’ll surely become the first emperor in history to walk the palace hall with sword in hand to cut his functionaries down where they stand. The officials look at each other, knowing that an era is now past. They each shake their heads and sigh wistfully, but have no choice but to leave.

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#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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