#the medieval lit is present
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the reason so many modern ‘feminist’/’gay’ retellings of classic stories or mythology are shit is because no-one wants to actually engage with a work on its own terms anymore. nobody wants to actually analyse and dig into the themes of a work they just want to plaster over it with what they consider self serving and ‘trendy.’ so instead of actually ANALYSING what a myth could say about women, or gay people, or society at the time in general, it just gets rewritten again and again to say what the author wants it to say. braindead fucking culture
#this is why i despise a/g/l#the people who present it as 'LOOK there WERE gays in medieval lit' are like. okay there were gays in medieval lit#and they (drawing from galehaut and lancelot here since that's what i know about) have incredibly important and interesting things to say#about gay love in their time#and about wider trends in society such as courtly love#but nobody wants to actually ENGAGE with those themes and dig into the texts to see what they do actually say#people just want to read something that caters to them perfectly#to elaborate this isn't about people who genuinely enjoy modern interpretations of a/g/l this is about people who claim it is somehow True
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#- HK#bad news i’ve just fallen in love with a stranger on goodreads#mobile#x#a persons bookshelf is actually something that can be so personal#the theology is happenin#the medieval lit is present#the manga choices are correct#the pfp looks like a kdrama but the name is german#this has to be a bot designed to catfish me specifically
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Seems like a lot of folks enjoyed the gender posting so I'm here to shill one of my favorite medieval tales: The Romance of Silence, a 13th century story by Heldris of Cornwall.
It follows the life of Silence, who was born female but raised as a boy so that his parents would have a child to inherit their land once they passed. Throughout the story, at various points, the personifications of Nature and Nurture fight over Silence and debate what is right for him - the sex he was born as, or the gender he identifies with. The story follows him as he grows up, becomes a minstrel and a knight, and ends up in dubious situations that threatens to expose his secret. It's an incredible stories that actually plays with pronouns and shifts around what Silence uses depending on the situation and context. If you ever wanted a medieval narrative that included a trans character, it would be Silence.
#nature#girl mode#the romance of silence#silence#medieval lit#This is really a bare minimum explanation of the story#There's a lot of really interesting commentary on gender perception and presentation#And what that means for your place in society - your#Also the very pointedly jarring aspect of Silence deliberately not having speaking parts when in
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pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader
plot summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday! He said no presents but you said fuck that. He’s getting two.
word count: 4k+
cw: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI; this is smut; porn with plot; Eddie being mean to Gareth; handjobs and blowjobs and Gareth unknowingly being a bystander of both; there’s some cum stuff in here, too.
notes: set in early 1990s. reader and Eddie are both in early/mid 20s. let’s pretend the PlayStation had co-op online gaming so this story makes sense. a part two may be in store. let me know what you think. 😈
Working overtime at The Hideout was not something you necessarily wanted to do, but with Eddie’s birthday coming up, it was something you had to do.
As much as you would have liked them to, bills wouldn’t simply pause just because you wanted to save money to buy Eddie a PlayStation. No, you had to use your math-inept brain to start budgeting, getting some help from Steve, who’d just recently been hired to work at a local accounting firm.
While you were hoping Steve would magically find money hidden somewhere in your finances, you were annoyed but not surprised at his only solution:
“You need to pick up more shifts.”
You and Eddie had moved into an apartment just outside of Hawkins after Eddie had finally graduated, you having helped him through that dreaded English class so you could both walk the stage together. That had been three years ago now. Money was tight, sure, but the two of you never went without the essentials. There was always dinner to be had, clothes to be worn, cable to be watched.
Between you bartending and trying to get a degree part-time, and Eddie dealing and working at the auto shop part-time, you both managed to make just enough to stay afloat.
Sometimes Eddie would score a few hundred playing a gig with Corroded Coffin, and he’d use that to wine and dine you like the fancy little lady you were. His words, not yours. You knew Eddie liked to spoil you. You knew he hated he couldn’t do it more.
Many stoned late night conversations had been had between the two of you where he fantasized aloud about taking you country to country once the band made it big, fucking you in soft, plush, expensive hotel beds, and spoon feeding you gelato while watching the sunset on a balcony, your bodies wrapped in silk, name-embroidered robes.
Eddie was a total lush at heart. The most broke rich man you’d ever met. You assumed this was because he came from virtually nothing. You didn’t need everything he wanted to give you, but he made it clear on more than one occasion that once money wasn’t a barrier, he would treat you like a queen.
You felt like he already did.
This is why you sucked up the hatred you had for The Hideout and told Roy, your boss, you’d work whatever shifts he could give you for the next few weeks. You endured handfuls of handsy truck drivers, pretended to flirtatiously banter with beyond drunk bikers, and held back the powerful urge to gag while stroking the egos of middle aged business men who chose to go through their midlife crisis in a seedy, dimly lit bar.
Seeing the look on Eddie’s face when you slid the wrapped package across the small dining table in your kitchen made all of the extra hours of rum pouring and forced salacious smiles worth it.
He had been mid-sentence, talking about a client at the auto shop who he’d spent an hour after hours with, the guy telling him all about medieval torture devices. This didn’t surprise you. Eddie’s fascination with the macabre was one of the things that had drawn the two of you together in the first place.
The first time you’d officially met was in English class your junior year, his third senior year. You’d told him you lived in a funeral home because your dad was a generational mortician, and that one day you’d probably own and operate it once your father retired. You also told him your mom was a self-proclaimed psychic who held seances for family members of the dead following their services. Eddie open-mouth stared at you for at least an entire minute in silence before telling you that was the creepiest fucking thing he’d ever heard, and that he would never feel fulfilled in life until you invited him over so he could experience it all firsthand.
The rest is history.
“What is this?” Eddie asked, brown eyes wide as he observed the gift in front of him.
“I know we said no presents this year so we can save for the new car, but... you know how I had all those late night study groups I had to go to this semester?”
He nodded, long fingers toying with the black parchment wrapping paper.
“Weeeeeell, actually, I was working overtime at The Hideout,” you admitted, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You knew he wasn’t going to be happy to hear you hadn’t been honest this past month, but you figured once he saw what you’d bought him (and what you’d had planned for the rest of the night), maybe he’d decide to let bygones be bygones. Not likely, as Eddie thoroughly enjoyed teaching you lessons as punishment for bad behavior, and you figured lying for weeks on end about attending study groups qualified as pretty bad behavior. You rushed out the next few sentences, smiling innocently and tilting your head to try and appear as cute as you possibly could, “It was so I could buy you that. For your birthday. Happy birthday, Eddie. Love you.”
Eddie’s brows lifted toward his hairline at your admittance, slow blinking a few times as your confession set in.
“We are definitely going to revisit all that at a later point,” Eddie warned, a ringed finger pointing at you. “Because that is so not okay. But -- ” he couldn’t help the excited, boyish grin that enveloped his features. “I really wanna open this and see what it is.”
You giggled in excitement at his eagerness, drumming your fingers on the table. “Okay, come on! Open it!” You would enjoy these few hours of spoiling him as he so frequently spoiled you, and you’d worry about whatever punishment he’d dole out when it came later.
And right now, the look of elation on his face as he unwrapped the PlayStation was worth however many studded belt spankings or denied orgasms you had in your near future.
“Fuck! Baby! No way!” he practically squealed, jumping up from the chair. It fell to the ground behind him with a clatter, but he paid no mind. He held the gaming console above him in awe. “You’re fucking kidding!”
“No, no kidding,” you answered, even though you knew his words were rhetorical. You could feel your cheeks growing sore with the smile stretched across your face, basking in his reaction. “There’s a real PlayStation in there, I swear.”
He laughed and protectively cradled the console under his arm, hurrying to you to slam his lips against yours in a kiss. No tongue, but plenty of fervor. “God, I fucking love you,” he muttered, placing small kisses on your nose and cheeks. “I mean, I’d fucking love you even if you got me nothing, or just, like, socks or something, but, shit, baby, this is -- I have to call Gareth! We can play King’s Field together now!”
A laugh bubbled out of your lips at his sudden change in direction, knowing Eddie was always at the whim of his impulses. You watched as he ran off to the living room to make the call. You knew Gareth would be waiting for it, as you’d told him to make sure he didn’t have plans on Eddie’s birthday, so the two of them could spend it playing the multiplayer game together late into the night.
It was all part of your grander birthday plan.
You waited until you heard Eddie’s voice rambling off to Gareth in the living room, the sounds of him unboxing the console to start to hook it up mingled into his conversation, before you disappeared into your bedroom to change.
Phase one, complete, success. Phase two, final phase, commence.
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
It was about twenty minutes later when you reemerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a newly bought matching blood red bra and panty set. It was solid colored with black lace outlining the rim of both pieces, flattering against your skin tone.
Eddie was sitting on the edge of the La-Z-Boy, headset mussing down his wild curls, talking animatedly to Gareth about the skeletons they were currently fighting on the screen.
“No, no! Go left, go left! God damnit, Gareth, do you know what your left is?!”
Eddie was loud and mouthy enough as it is, but add in a game where he had the ability to lose and the whole apartment complex would be banging on their door come tomorrow morning with noise complaints. Hell hath no fury like a twenty-something man’s confidence in his pretend battling skills.
While some might find it annoying, you found Eddie’s unbridled passion for everything he was interested in endearing. He was someone who let himself be totally engulfed by the plot of a movie or a game or a story, attaching himself to the characters and their the ups and downs as if they were tangible and could be found in his own everyday life.
You were happy for his distraction as it gave you time to compose yourself and slowly stalk your way to the center of the living room, where the chair sat directly across from the TV.
By the time you made your way to the side of the La-Z-Boy, finally coming into Eddie’s peripheral vision, he was still berating Gareth for his poor sense of direction.
“I mean, what the hell, Gare, we learned our lefts and rights in, like -- oh, fuck.”
You’d brought you hand out to trail down the exposed skin of Eddie’s arm, watching it goosebump in your wake. He’d taken his shirt off at some point, much to your appreciation. Eddie’s attention was fully on you now, as was evident from his failed completed sentence to Gareth, who you could now hear through Eddie’s headset going, “Oh, fuck? What? What, oh fuck? You don’t even know how to talk, Munson.”
But Gareth went unheard by Eddie, who’s eyes were drinking in the sight of you in your lingerie set. His tongue darted out to lick at his lower lip, which he then pulled into his mouth to sink his top teeth into.
You offered him a playful smile, watching as his neck began to turn red, the color almost a perfect match for the satin set you had on.
Without a word, you dropped to your knees on the carpet in front of him, sitting between his legs.
“What -- what are you doing?” he managed to choke out.
Gareth’s voice through the headset: “What? Dude, I’m fucking going left like you told me to!”
“Shut up, Gareth,” Eddie warned, his brown eyes now full of fire for the sight before him.
He brought one hand to cover the mouthpiece of his headset, the other placing the controller on his lap to reach out and cradle your face. You leaned into it.
“What are you doing, baby?” Eddie asked again, but he knew. Especially from the wicked grin you were giving him now.
“Just play your game, Eddie,” you whispered, careful to be quiet so Gareth didn’t hear. You moved your head to rest your cheek on his thigh, staring up at him with big doe eyes as you brought the fingers of one hand to lightly trace the line of his zipper. “And don’t get caught. We don’t want Gareth to know what a bad girl I’m being, playing with your cock while you play with him.”
His breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t believe it.
Not only had you gotten him exactly what he’d been wanting since it came out that prior winter, but now you were going to suck him off while he played it?
Jesus, how did he get so lucky?
“You are a fucking minx,” Eddie said, voice stern but his face lighting up in satisfaction as he readjusted himself on the chair, spreading his legs a bit wider.
He dropped the hand from the headset and picked the controller back up again just as Gareth was saying, “Eddie, man, are you still there? Your character’s been standing in the same place for, like, five minutes.”
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
Sucking dick was not only one of your favorite things to do, but it was one of the things you were best at.
You prided yourself on how quickly you could work Eddie into a panting frenzy, how easy it was for him to lose control in your mouth, thrusting his hips to force you to take what you could and to choke back the rest.
But tonight you were taking it slow. Slow and sloppy. And you weren’t letting him do any of the work.
You’d only pulled his cock from his jeans, leaving his balls in the confines of the tight denim. You’d used so much spit that the fabric of his pants was soaking through to his boxer briefs. You watched his face intently as one of your hands wrapped around the thickness of him, stroking upwards in long, drawn out movements. You could tell he was trying to jerk his hips up but was failing, as your other hand was pressed into his side, trying its hardest to keep his body weight back against the chair.
“Greedy,” you scolded, clicking your tongue to the roof of your mouth.
He smiled sheepishly, eyes meeting yours over his hands which were holding the controller against his chest. He stopped the movement of his hips even though he felt as if it physically pained him to do so.
You’d been working him with your hands and mouth for the better part of half an hour now, releasing him entirely any time he came close to coming. He’d let a whine out at one point, to which Gareth asked, “Dude, you good?” and Eddie had to scramble out in his lust addled brain an excuse as to why that type of noise had erupted from him. He didn’t even remember what he’d said to explain it away.
All Eddie wanted to do was come. He wanted to cover you in him, drench your face and chest as you’d drenched his pants and cock in your warm saliva. He kept picturing it in his head, in alarmingly graphic detail, which was making this video game very, very hard to concentrate on.
Eddie got the idea that maybe if you neared your breaking point too, he’d finally be allowed to come. His cock throbbed at the thought, a bead of precum oozing from his slit. You sucked it away. He groaned and rolled his eyes back, controller wobbling in his hand and threatening to fall to the floor.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied his grip again, pressing a few random assortments of buttons to make Gareth think he was still coherent and definitely not getting a blowjob from his girlfriend right now.
“Will you please play with yourself?” Eddie asked, trying to put forth his best pleading puppy dog eyes. This was his big plan. Get you to get yourself off so he could sneak his orgasm in there, too.
He clearly had forgotten to cover the mouthpiece because Gareth’s voice was incredulous on the other end.
“What the fuck, Munson? What do you mean? I can’t play with myself! We’re almost at the end, man! Don’t give up now!”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips, your head falling back for a moment at the exasperation in Gareth’s voice. Gareth was none the wiser, but just so you felt better, you made a mental note to buy him something nice or bake him those cookies you knew he liked, just for being such an unknowingly good sport during all of this.
Sticking your tongue out a bit, you bit down on the fleshy muscle in your mouth before rising more on your knees, leaning closer to Eddie. With the hand that was previously pushing his hips down, you covered his mouthpiece. “Is this a game you can win?” you asked. Your hand had stopped stroking now, and your fingers were instead running light pressured circles around the head of his weeping cock.
“Wha -- what? Uh, yeah... yeah, I can win,” Eddie stumbled, attention off the game momentarily to watch your hot little mouth move. “Just... fuck up a few more skeletons...”
“Okay,” you said, hand tightening on his member again, this time sliding it down slowly, twisting as you went. He hissed, trying to lean forward to capture your mouth with his own. You backed away, falling back down to your bottom as you continued playing with him in your hand. “Then win and I’ll let you come.”
Eddie huffed, trying to thrust his hips up for more friction but was stopped by your hand reclaiming its spot on his pelvis again, pushing him back down. If he wanted, he could absolutely overpower you. He could grab your wrists and pull you up into his lap, sliding the side of your panties over with one hand before impaling you on his wanting cock. He knows you’d let him. But he likes when you get like this, thinking you’re in control. It makes it all that much better when he finally flips the script and has you teary eyed begging for him to let you come.
“Gareth, I swear to fucking god, if we don’t win this game in the next three minutes, I’m never speaking to you again.”
𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐
It takes longer than three minutes, and it’s not because of Gareth.
Eddie keeps screwing up, pressing X when he should be pressing O; spamming the start button to bring up the game menu when you take him particularly deep into your throat; accidentally stabbing Gareth’s character with a sword instead of the skeleton because his eyes keep rolling into the back of his head with the words spilling from your filthy mouth.
It’s all, “tastes so good, Eddie,” and “can’t even fit you all in my mouth,” and “I’m dripping on the floor, want you so bad.”
Evil woman.
Evil, perfect woman.
Eddie sees a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. In the game, the hallway he and Gareth had been running down is opening into the brightness of a lit arena. It’s the final stage. One more fucking skeleton and he can let go. He can turn this headset off and grunt and groan to his heart’s content without having to worry about Gareth thinking he’s a fucking creep.
“I’m almost there...” Eddie’s saying, and he’s kind of talking about winning the game, but is mostly talking about the orgasm he can feel tightening in his balls, swirling in his stomach, clenching in his thighs.
“Yeah, dude! We got this!”
Eddie does not want to hear Gareth’s voice right now. He wants to hear you, pretty and whiny, loving the noises you make when you make him come. He loves how much you love it. You’re not even the one coming, but you’re always right there with him, moaning about how good his warm seed feels inside you or all over you, wherever he decides to finish. You’re not picky.
Just then, Eddie jolts forward in the chair. The head of his hard length hits the back of your throat and you cough a little, sputtering as you move your head. Looking back over your shoulder at the TV screen, hand moving up and down Eddie’s slippery cock, you see the words 'YOU WIN' in radioactive green.
“Fuuuuuuck, yes!” Eddie shouts, throwing the controller in the air. He rips off the headset without saying goodbye to Gareth, dropping it to the ground as he turns his attention back to you.
He looks absolutely wrecked. Black bangs are clung to his forehead with sweat, his chest is heavy with labored breaths, his skin is tinged pink from being so worked up and then worked back down over and over for the past hour. He can’t believe he hasn’t accidentally came yet. He assumes it’s because his mind was preoccupied with the game, because now that his full attention is on you, remembering what you’re wearing, what you’re doing, and how you look so fucking good doing it, he doesn’t think he’s going to last.
“Baby, please, I wanna come,” he’s saying, bringing one hand to the back of your head, tangling it in your hair. He’s not guiding you or helping at all, doesn’t want to be in control yet, he just wants to touch you, needs to have his hands on you somehow. “I won, did you see, I won, I get to come, right? Please make me come...”
You bit back a self-satisfied look at his pleading, bringing both hands now to wrap around the length of him. It doesn’t need it, already soaking from being in your mouth, but you let a string of spit fall onto the head of his cock, making your hands glide even easier over the velvety hardness of him. You can feel him throbbing, his hips finally able to rock up into your touch.
“Are you gonna make me all messy, Eddie?” you ask, tilting your head down to look up at him with wide, faux innocent eyes.
He’s nodding, thrusts finding no rhythm, just trying to reach release. “Yeah, baby, you love it when I cover you in my come, get you all wet and sticky...”
“Uh-huh. Love when you help me clean it up, too.”
And that’s what does it.
Eddie let out a stilted moan, one that changed octaves, and he’s coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.
Thick ropes of white hit your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your chest.
You gasped at the contact, then let out a moan that made his toes curl into the carpet, licking your lips to catch anything that landed in tongue distance.
He watches it all. His eyes threaten to close but fuck no, he loves to see you get marked by him in the most primal of ways. Loves to watch his cock paint the prettiest portrait on you.
He brought his hand down to help you stroke him through it, wanting to feel your smaller fingers on his cock as he rode out his high.
Then he gave you what you love, helping you clean it up. He bent his head down and ran his tongue across your hot skin, scooping up as much of his release as he could. He grabbed you by the chin, pulling down until your mouth opened before spitting into your mouth, watching as you let it sit for a moment before closing your mouth and swallowing, your eyes heavy with arousal at his actions.
“Mmmm,” you sound, smiling dopily. You kissed at his lips, your hand still slowly stroking him as he softened.
He licked at your bottom lip before his tongue moved into your mouth and against yours, pulling you into his lap. You melted into his touch, becoming boneless flesh in his arms. He groaned at the feeling of your wet, clothed cunt pressed against his lower stomach. He hadn’t even touched you -- you hadn’t even touched yourself -- and yet you were still so slick for him.
That thought alone was enough to cause his cock to twitch, and he thanked the sex gods or whoever was in charge for gracing him with stamina tonight of all nights.
“Best,” kiss to your nose, “birthday,” kiss to your chin, “ever,” kiss to your lips.
You smiled against his lips, humming happily at his admission. This was exactly how you planned the night going. Surprise Eddie with a PlayStation and an explosive orgasm.
Then he just had to go and throw a curveball.
“I’ll be good to go in twenty minutes,” he conceded, fingers running featherlight down your bare back. “Then we’ll see what we’re gonna do about that lying mouth of yours.”
Damn it. The study groups. He remembered. Part of you hoped you’d sucked all the sense out of him, but apparently not.
“Mean,” you pouted.
Eddie’s eyes flashed wickedly, a lazy grin stretching across his face.
“Oh, I will be.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader
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you mentioned something about knights when you were talking about Joan of arc and i was wondering if you could expand on it? or link something that shared your perspective?
a lot of what people are drawing on when they talk about eg. "butch knights" or otherwise use knights as an articulation of a particular (generally non-normative) mode of gender is located within the chivalric imaginary. broadly speaking, chivalry as a european cultural phenomenon emerged in the literature of the late crusading era, largely fermented in the chrysalis of nostalgia for christian conquest and rule of the so-termed 'holy land' in west asia; crusading, in turn, was of course a bloodthirsty practice of christian conquest leading to the slaughter of vast swathes of muslim and jewish populations—cf. for example, the rhinelands pogroms or the aftermath of the siege of jerusalem in 1099, or the siege of maarat in 1098. chivalry as a cultural construct was significantly steeped in a desire to reconcile the military practices of knights with the guidance of the church, and the paradigmatic 'chivalric knight' was one whose military prowess or whatever could be matched by his piety. we see this effort to reconcile the 'worldly' with the spiritual as a galvanising force in much of the key works of chivalric lit; chrétien de troyes' perceval being a key example, or the narrative tensions around lancelot and galahad throughout the arthurian canon. the point is: chivalry is a phenomenon loyal to medieval european christianity, and deference to a medieval imaginary is most often reactionary. (cf., for example, the weight held by nostalgia for the 'chivalric era' in the ruling class of the antebellum american south.)
in chivalry and violence in medieval europe, richard kaeuper writes against the impetus to take the romantic image of the chivalric knight (as we may find in, say, chrétien de troyes) at face value, and urges us as historians to understand instead that many of our sources on the chivalric imaginary were produced as part of a reform effort promoting this idealised cultural construct. the natural follow-on here, of course, is that a reform effort must have a particular political tempering, and—imo—a meaningful queer politic of gender should be capable of understanding and reckoning with that political tempering which continues to hold currency in the present day rather than borrowing what we like and discarding what we don't.
like…knights are a state militia, chivalry is a social relation constructed around that fact, steeped in the presumed supremacy of the church, and loyal to the primary governing power. these very vague ideas around deference to 'ladies' (drawing on a romanticisation of the ruling class, ofc) can't really be separated from their broader social setting and the relations of power that chivalry sought to articulate and affirm. in short: it's very very white and it's very very goyish.
this isn't to say that like, everyone who does this has to Stop Immediately or else they're directly endorsing the ideological thorniness that chivalry invokes, but i do think it's worth spending some time with what it is that makes these cultural histories a) hold currency in the present discourse and b) appeal specifically to a lesbian/butch/transmasc/etc. imaginary. what are we trying to integrate ourselves into and what ideological hegemons are we trying to resist, and are we succeeding? can we be more imaginative?
[also—this was a very broad overview off the top of my largely unqualified head. would recommend going away and reading more about the history of chivalry + chivalric lit + the crusades if you're interested; the kaeuper text is a good starting-point.]
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WITCH'S REFUGE - ROYAL SOLDIERS! BTS OT7 X WITCH! READER [ PART 1 ]
if you wish to be part of the tag list, complete the form.
summary: in an era where the royal family denounces all magic, as one of the few remaining witches, you hide your powers. though you try to lead a normal life, only the seven accepting men make you feel truly understood. yet, what destiny awaits when you must reveal your true identity?
genre: supernatural/magic au | medieval-modern fusion fantasy au | F2L (more like idiots to lovers, honestly) | moderate? angst | action | romance | fluff | hint of crack
pairing: royal soldiers bts ot7 x female witch reader (high royal commander!kim namjoon, high royal soldier!kim namjoon, high royal soldier!min yoongi, royal assassin!jung hoseok, royal assassin!park jimin, elite warrior!kim taehyung, elite warrior!jeon jungkook)
warnings: mentions of violence, blood, death, slight mentions of SA, disgusting misogyny, witchcraft, slight gore, and swearing.
permanent tag list: @taolucha, @exfolitae, @namjoonswaifu, @rinkud, @queenlouie18, @btsgangleader @m0v3m3ntsblog, @nicholedobre-blog, @bjoriis, @princess-sunshyn, @han-aaaaa, @ejspencer14, @skyys-universe, @thvslvt, @dustyinkpages, @savagemickey03, @aynbookworm, @loveforred, @jwonz, @ghostlyworld, @wagtte, @louisaqueen, @meepsters-world, @carolina-thiell, @svnbangtansworld, @deepestfacedevil
(the tags that are strikethrough could not be tagged)
word count: 19,398
drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending
Present day...
In the narrow, cobblestone-laden alleyways of the bustling city, the rhythmic echo of boots pounding against the ground resonates. "Stop, right there!" A man, accompanied by a cadre of others, bellows, their pursuit propelled by an intensity matched only by the pulsing rhythm of your heart. The reminiscence of childhood escapades emerges, an unexpected thrill as you find yourself once more in the precarious position of the pursued, the very spirit of adventure coursing through your veins.
The impetus for this impromptu race stems from the audacious act of liberating an artifact from the clutches of a pledgemart—an establishment known for its shrewd dealings. Your attempt to negotiate a fair price met with obstinacy from the working men within, who sought to exploit you. Frustration simmered, and in a feigned surrender, you declared your departure. Unbeknownst to them, the pilfered artifact nestled discreetly within your sleeve.
As you strolled away with feigned nonchalance, a sudden shout marked their discovery of the missing item. The chase unfolded with a symphony of footsteps and frantic exclamations, your nimble form weaving through the labyrinthine alleyways, adeptly evading both pursuers and obstacles. Yet, as the village streets blurred around you, the relentless pursuit eventually cornered you in a dimly lit cul-de-sac.
"If I didn't know better, I'd reckon you for the famed Mystrogue that's been the talk of our beloved city—renowned seeker and pilferer, and quite proficient at it, if I may add. But I beg to differ, considering you're but a young lass, and such feats would seem nigh impossible for someone of your ilk," one of the men quipped, suspicion and amusement intertwining in his words.
Breathless, you retort, "Your presumptions matter not. I suggest you release me if you value your well-being."
Laughter erupts among the men, a cacophony of disbelief reverberating through the alley. Unfazed, you tighten your grip on the concealed artifact, bracing yourself for the impending confrontation.
As the men lunge forward with an unexpected assault, your nimble reflexes engage. Swiftly eluding the initial blow, you counter with a series of well-aimed strikes, showcasing your prowess in hand-to-hand combat. The alley transforms into a makeshift battleground—a dance between evasion and retaliation.
Despite your impressive display, the sheer numbers eventually overwhelm you. A firm grip seizes you from behind, restraining your movements. The leader, a grizzled man with a scarred visage, steps forward, his voice dripping with menace. "For your audacious theft, girl, we'll have no choice but to sever your thieving hands. A fitting punishment for those who dare defy the order of this city."
The threat hangs in the air, heavy and ominous. A sense of desperation creeps in as you struggle against your captors, but their hold remains unyielding. The narrow alley now feels like a prison, the walls closing in as the leader pronounces your dire fate.
"You're naught but a common thief, and this city won't abide such defiance. Ready yourself for the consequences of your actions," he declares, his words resonating with finality.
As the blade descends towards your restrained hands, a commanding voice resonates through the alley. "Enough!"
The men freeze, turning to the source of the interruption. The figure emerging from the shadows is none other than Namjoon, his presence demanding attention. His eyes bore into the leader, a silent warning. Soon, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jin appear alongside Namjoon in this narrow alleyway bathed in the sunny glow of mid-morning.
Your brow furrows slightly. Where are the other three? You wondered.
Namjoon's gaze remains locked with the defiant leader of the men. "Release her, and you may yet escape unscathed."
The men exchange glances, their hesitation evident, but their pride and greed prevail. With a signal from their leader, they tighten their grip on you, defiance etched on their faces.
"We don't answer to the likes of you," the leader spits, a malevolent grin stretching across his face. "She stole from us, and we'll be the ones to dispense justice."
Namjoon's hand twitches, signaling the others to prepare for what seems inevitable. The air grows thick with tension as the two factions face off, each refusing to yield.
Meanwhile, your mind races, desperately seeking an escape from this perilous situation. The cold steel of the blade hovers menacingly close to your hands, restrained and vulnerable. The men surrounding you exchange menacing glances, relishing the impending punishment they intend to deliver.
Suddenly, Hoseok steps forward. His eyes, sharp and calculating, survey the alley with a hint of disdain. "Do you truly believe you can challenge us, you fools? Do you even know who we are?"
The men scoff, dismissing Hoseok's words as mere bravado. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation as the standoff reaches its climax.
Namjoon's patience wears thin. "Last chance. Release her, or face the consequences."
The men hesitate, realizing the gravity of the situation. Yet, the leader, fueled by arrogance, signals for the attack. But Namjoon and the others remain still and calm, for the anticipated assault never comes. Perplexed, the leader turns around to be met with Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin holding their respective blade weapons at the necks of the erstwhile captors.
"As you were saying," Taehyung muses, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Now, before I was rudely interrupted, you shall desist from troubling this young woman. Do you understand?" Namjoon's eyes darken, fixing upon all four men.
"How dare—" The leader begins to retort defiantly, but Yoongi's swift and undetected actions interrupt him with a sword blade against his neck.
"You wish to defy the orders of the royal family's protectors?" Yoongi intones with a menacing glare.
The man gulps and shakes his head, his bravado replaced by a flicker of fear. "N-no, of course not."
He shifts his gaze back to Namjoon. "Pray accept my humble apologies, my lords. I was unaware this woman was in association with you."
Namjoon approaches, his expression unwavering. "Leave. Consider yourselves fortunate that you still draw breath. Speak not a word of this woman or this encounter, lest you wish dire consequences."
The men, recognizing the futility of further resistance, slink away, leaving behind the echoes of their defeated pride.
With Jimin and Jungkook the ones closest to you, Jimin turns to you, concern etching his features. "Are you hurt, Y/N?"
Your hands throbbed from the ordeal, but you managed a nod of assurance. "I'm fine. Thanks to all of you."
"Then what's this, beneath your shoulder?" Jungkook's brow arches in suspicion, pointing at a bloody cut on your upper arm, presumably from the knife one of the men used on you during the brief skirmish.
You chuckle sheepishly. "Oh, it's nothing... I insist..."
"It's not nothing if you're bleeding, Y/N," Jimin insists. "Come, let's find a place where we can tend to that wound."
With your arm gently supported by Jimin, the group maneuvers through the winding alleyways. The village hums with life around you as the bright hues of the sunlight filter through the labyrinthine streets.
Namjoon's voice resonates, breaking the silence enveloping the group. "This isn't the first instance we've found ourselves intervening on your behalf, Y/N."
A glance of gratitude is cast toward him. "I appreciate your assistance, truly. How did you come upon me, may I inquire?"
Hoseok chuckles. "Perchance because we followed the trail of trouble that seemed to linger on our path leading to you, whether it be your penchant for adventure or your knack for stumbling upon turmoil."
You playfully roll your eyes. "Har har, very humorous, Hoseok."
As the group emerges onto a broader thoroughfare, Taehyung points toward a discreet apothecary nestled between two grander establishments. "That should be a suitable place to address your wound."
The bell above the apothecary's door chimes as you enter, greeted by the scent of various herbs and medicinal potions. The shopkeeper, a wizened figure with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, looks up from his work. "How may I assist you?"
"We need something to clean and dress this wound," Jimin explains, revealing the extent of the injury.
The apothecary, noticing the wounded state, gestures for you to sit at a small wooden table. "Please, have a seat, young miss. I'll prepare a salve for that cut."
As you settle, Seokjin says. "No, but in all earnestness, Y/N. This has occurred far too frequently. Why do you consistently find yourself embroiled in such trivial affairs? If you find yourself in need of aid or finances, you are well aware that you can turn to us, are you not?"
Your gaze averts. "Well, there is a valid reason for this particular escapade."
Taehyung who is leaning against a nearby shelf, adopting an air of nonchalance. "So, what was the object of this daring escapade, anyway?"
You hesitate for a moment, retrieving the invaluable artifact, revealing it to be a delicate piece of parchment. But this seemingly, "ordinary paper" is none other than a secondary copy of the Kingdom's map, stretching far beyond the borders of your realm into neighboring lands and forbidden mountains rumored to be teeming with magical creatures. The mere existence of such beings has become the stuff of myth since the banishment of magic and its practitioners. How this hidden treasure found its way into the hands of the pledgemarts remains a mystery.
"So, are you insinuating that you risked life and limb for this antiquated map?" Jungkook's brow arched skeptically as he surveyed the document in your hands.
"And pray tell, what makes it so significant, Y/N, that you'd stake your well-being for it?" Jin's tone was dry, though lacking any true malice.
With a measured exhale, you prepared to justify your actions, "It's not merely an old map, if you must know, Jungkook. Do you wonder why it fetched such a high price? Because the original resides within the palace, accessible only to the royal family. Its value lies not only in its rarity but in the history it encapsulates, a history tied to these lands and the events of ages past."
"And what need have you for such a rare relic?" Namjoon inquires, his gaze piercing.
Your gaze shifted momentarily in contemplation before fixing back on him, voice lowered, "May we discuss this elsewhere, please?"
Namjoon nodded, and amidst exchanged glances among your friends, the apothecary completed the mending of your wound, securing a bandage. "Take heed, and tread carefully. Mishaps have a way of finding those who seek them," he advised, sliding a jar of salve towards you. "This should aid in the healing, young miss. Apply it generously."
"Thank you," you murmur gratefully, accepting the remedies.
Jimin, ever the considerate one, inquires about payment, but the apothecary waves it off with a dismissive gesture. "Consider it a token of gratitude for safeguarding our city. The Royal Protectors are always welcome here."
As your group emerges back into the sunlight, Namjoon's gaze settles upon you with a mix of concern and admonishment. "Y/N, you must grasp the consequences of your actions. We cannot always be there to extricate you from every predicament."
"I understand, Namjoon. Truly, I do," you respond earnestly, the weight of your choices settling upon your shoulders.
Hoseok interjects, his tone lightening the mood with a touch of levity. "Nevertheless, trouble seems to have a knack for finding you, or perhaps it's the other way around."
You shoot him a playful glare, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Hoseok?"
Taehyung, ever the embodiment of carefree spirit, suggests a reprieve. "Shall we indulge in some refreshments? It seems an opportune moment for respite."
"An excellent suggestion. Let us adjourn to my humble abode; I have procured a new selection of teas and treats to share," you offer with a smile.
Jungkook, always quick with a jest, couldn't resist a tease. "New, you say? One must wonder if you've liberated these goods as well..."
You narrow your gaze at him, playfully threatening pursuit as he dodges away. "Come back here, you scamp!"
"Not this time. I used my own funds!" You protest.
"Ah, you say 'this time'? It implies a previous act of pilfering," he counters, evading your lighthearted chase.
"Did not!" You argue.
"Did too." He laughs.
The older six of your group watched fondly as you engaged in playful banter. Despite the drastic difference in social status—your commoner background juxtaposed with their high royal standing—the dynamics of your group remained unchanged. Grateful for the enduring camaraderie, you all continued to revel in the playful interactions that had characterized your friendship.
Back at your cottage, you promptly prepared tea, unveiling your new collection bought with hard-earned money, refuting Jungkook's absurd accusation.
As the fragrant steam rises from the teapot, Hoseok leans forward, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Now that we're away from prying ears, Y/N, do tell us why you risked life and limb for that ancient map?"
A weighty sigh escapes your lips; this day, you knew, would inevitably arrive. For the better part of six auroas, you've meticulously laid the groundwork for the moment when you'd disclose your clandestine plans. However, the apprehension gnaws at you, as you grapple with the delicate task of revealing your intentions without causing undue distress to your closest companions.
You understand the impracticality of divulging the whole truth, the veritable reason behind your meticulous planning and subsequent departure from the kingdom. Since the prohibition of magic and the persecution of its wielders, you've been forced to exist in the shadows, concealing your abilities beneath the guise of a commoner.
Your sorcery, a gift passed down through generations, necessitates discretion, especially given the escalating civil unrest in the villages. The imminent arrival of the royal military elite for inquisitions looms over your head like a guillotine. Your nascent mastery of magic is fragile, and an encounter with the inquisitors could shatter the fragile control you've gained.
Recollections of your mother's tales, of covens of witches secluded in the northern realms, lingered in your mind. Legends spoke of their veiled existence, untouched by the meddling hands of humans for lumiras. Your intent was not only a self-indulgent quest for heritage and mastery of your magic but also a calculated move to shield your companions from the impending storm. The military elite, unrelenting in their pursuit, would not hesitate to accuse your friends of collusion, painting them as conspirators in your occult escapades.
"I have intentions of departing the kingdom," you proclaimed, your words resolute, yet tinged with a palpable sorrow. The die was cast, and there could be no retracing of steps.
The room held its breath in suspended animation. Seven pairs of eyes, frozen in astonishment, betrayed the collective disbelief at your revelation. A dissonant shatter punctuated the silence, and your gaze snapped to the fallen tea cup near Jimin, the first to react to your momentous disclosure.
"Oh no! Are you unharmed, Jimin? Allow me to clean this up for you." Hastily procuring a cloth and a dustpan, you endeavored to remedy the scattered shards.
"No, don't, Y/N. You might injure yourself," Jimin implored, breaking through the haze of shock.
A nervous smile adorned your countenance. "It is quite alright, Jimin. I—" A sudden pang interrupted your words, a small cut on your index finger oozing droplets of crimson.
Jimin, ever the caring soul, intervenes, "Y/N, let me tend to your wound."
Yet, it is not Jimin's hands that cradle yours; it is Yoongi's firm grip that takes hold. "Why subject yourself to needless harm when assistance is readily available?" he admonishes, attending to your minor injury with practiced efficiency.
Jin interjects, "Now, kindly resume elucidating the rationale behind this momentous decision of yours."
Resuming your seat at the table, a sigh escapes your lips, laden with the weight of impending revelation. "The kingdom has been steeped in turmoil since the prohibition of magic. I find myself no longer desirous of confining my existence within these walls."
Your utterance reverberates in the hallowed silence, and the gravity of your decision begins to unfurl. However, the disclosure is only partially accurate; the depths of your motivation remain veiled, a necessary smoke screen to shield your dear friends from the harsh reality of your supernatural lineage.
"And how long has this plan been festering in the recesses of your mind?" Jimin questioned, concern etched upon his face.
Shame colors you as you avert your gaze. "Several auroas, I believe."
"Several auroas?! And you saw fit to withhold such momentous plans from us?" Jimin's incredulity is mirrored on the faces of the others, a collective expression of dismay.
"I assure you, my departure is not imminent," you assert in an attempt to assuage their apprehension. "I am still in the contemplative stage."
"In the contemplative stage?" Jimin echoes with palpable frustration. "Pray, how is it that you arrived at such a life-altering decision without deigning to inform us?"
The room simmers with a tension borne of unspoken emotions and uncharted territories. The burden of deception weighs heavily on your shoulders, but the alternative—laying bare the intricate web of magical intrigue and peril—seems too great a cost to impose upon your friends.
Attempting to quell the rising tension, Hoseok intervenes. "Let us temper our emotions. Y/N may have more to expound upon. Is that not so?"
Nodding hesitantly, you affirm, "Indeed, I do. My desire extends beyond the simplicity of a commoner's life within these walls. I yearn to explore, to contribute in ways that transcend the mundane. To achieve this, I must venture beyond our borders."
Jimin's incredulous gaze narrows. "Embarking on such a perilous expedition is no trifling matter. Why, then, did you not summon us to accompany you?"
"Because precisely that — it is perilous. I harbor no desire to subject you to the dangers beyond our borders. It would be unjust to sacrifice your cherished positions for the uncertainties that lie ahead," you explain, your eyes pleading for their understanding.
Jin wears a sorrowful expression. "You underestimate the strength of our bonds, Y/N. To think we would prioritize our positions over your well-being wounds me deeply."
The room falls into a somber silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavily.
Jimin leans back, "While your intentions may be noble, it remains a considerable deviation from our collective path. Decisions of such magnitude necessitate collective contemplation."
Taehyung, who has been pensively silent, finally speaks, "But what of the dangers you might face alone? Surely, we could lend our strength, provide a united front against the perils that await beyond our borders."
Your heart swells with gratitude for their concern, yet the specter of potential consequences restrains you. "I appreciate your offer, Taehyung, but the dangers I face are mine to endure. To embroil you in these uncertainties is a burden I cannot bear."
Hoseok suggests, "Before definitive decisions are made, let us collectively explore the details of your plan. Knowledge dispels fear, and perhaps together, we can devise a strategy that mitigates the dangers you envision."
"Perhaps we can delve into that matter at a later time. As I mentioned earlier, I don't intend to depart any time soon," you declare.
A hushed silence ensues before you continue, your eyes flitting between each concerned face. "However, there's something else I must impart—a reminder of sorts. I am to return to Valoris once more, and I shall be absent for two duskars." Your words captured by their ears, inciting incredulity once more, eliciting groans and sighs from the group.
(Duskar: a combination of "Dusk" and "Star," Duskar represents both day and night. It acknowledges the importance of celestial transitions and the balance between light and darkness.)
"Pray, tell me you jest, Y/N," Jin articulates with a mixture of incredulity and exasperation, his demeanor embodying the very essence of patience tried. "What compels you to return there yet again?"
"You know well the reason. There is a family in dire need of aid. They teeter on the brink of survival—had I not stumbled upon them, who knows what fate would have befallen them," you protest, a pout forming on your lips.
"Y/N, whilst your benevolence knows no bounds—a trait most admirable, I must urge caution. One cannot ascertain if their plight is as dire as you perceive it to be," Jin responds.
"Do you not find it rather suspicious that after years of barrenness, a family suddenly emerges in such desolate environs?" He counters.
Your eyes sweep over the assembly, prompting a sheepish smile from you as you rub your neck. "I understand it may seem peculiar, but circumstances unravel in curious ways. And I've pledged to aid them, I cannot turn my back on that commitment."
Taehyung, his brow furrowed, interjects, "Y/N, it's been a while since you started assisting this family. May I inquire about the nature of their situation? How did you chance upon them in such desolate surroundings?"
A nostalgic smile graces your lips as you recount the serendipitous encounter. "Whilst exploring the outskirts of Valoris, I happened upon a decrepit cottage. Within its dilapidated walls dwelled a family—a mother, a father, and a young girl. Their existence was a struggle against the elements, barely sustaining themselves. It tugged at my heart, and I couldn't stand idly by."
Jungkook, leaning on his hand, adds, "As Jin has pointed out—not to dispute your compassion, Y/N, but these are challenging times. We must be cautious of unforeseen consequences."
You nod appreciatively at Jungkook's counsel. "I acknowledge the risks, Jungkook. Yet, my conscience compels me to aid those in need."
Namjoon, tilting his head in amusement, chimes in, "Then you wouldn't mind if one of us accompanies you on this mission of mercy?"
"No—! I mean, they're not fond of strangers," you hastily reason.
Namjoon raised his brow skeptically. "They welcomed you warmly, it seems."
"I'm but a small woman; they assumed I posed no threat. Yet, it still required effort to convince them of my harmlessness to them. I just don't want to frighten them off, and if they learn that I've divulged their existence to you all, they'll be afraid," you explain.
Jimin, dryly, responds, "That doesn't ease our concerns, Y/N."
"Listen—" you begin, exhaling softly. "As you rightly pointed out, I have undertaken this task for some time now. I am well-versed in such matters. Trust me, I shall be fine. I give you my word."
The room remains enveloped in contemplative silence before Yoongi, who had been quietly observing, finally speaks up. "If you're so resolute, Y/N, why not let one of us accompany you? It'd ease our minds, and we could lend a hand if need be."
You consider his suggestion, realizing the merit in his words. "I appreciate the concern, but I fear introducing others might disturb the delicate balance I've established with the family. They're wary, and I don't wish to jeopardize the trust I've built."
Seokjin, arms crossed, raises an eyebrow. "Trust, Y/N? How can you trust a family you just stumbled upon in the desolation of Valoris?"
A solemn expression crosses your face as you respond, "Trust is earned, Jin. And over time, they've come to trust me. I've proven my sincerity through actions, not just words."
Jin sighs in reluctant understanding, "Very well, Y/N. But you must promise to exercise caution. Valoris is not a place to be taken lightly."
Your gaze meets each of theirs, a vow implicit in your eyes. "I promise, Jin. I'll tread carefully, and I'll be back before you know it."
With a collective exhale, the tension in the room eases slightly, though an undercurrent of concern lingers. Your friends exchanging glances that spoke volumes of their internal debates. It was clear they harbored reservations, yet your determination seemed to quell the immediate protests.
Namjoon, assuming the role of the tacit leader amongst your circle, spoke with a measured tone, “Like Jin has said, we implore you to remain vigilant and communicate with us at the first sign of distress."
"Your safety is paramount, not just to us, but to those you seek to aid. An unforeseen mishap would not only imperil you but potentially them as well," Jimin adds, the weight of his gaze impressing upon you the gravity of his words.
You nod, the warmth of their concern enveloping you like a comforting embrace. "I am truly blessed to have such steadfast companions. I shall endeavor to proceed with the utmost caution and keep you apprised of my whereabouts and well-being."
A sudden burst of joviality erupts as Hoseok, with a spirited clap of his hands, attempts to dispel the tension. "By the way, whilst we're gathered, might we engage in discourse concerning the choice of furnishings that adorn your abode in recent days?"
The unexpected comment elicits snickers and playful smiles, particularly from the younger three among your seven male friends. Your countenance scrunches as you defend your taste, "Hey—what's amiss with it? I find that it imparts character to my humble abode."
"Oh, character she says..." Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes, accompanying his expression with a hearty snicker.
"Yes," you protest with a spirited defense. "There is merit in uniqueness."
"Is there, though?" Jungkook chimes in with a teasing smirk.
You playfully brandish your teaspoon at Jungkook. "Do not reckon I've forgotten the earlier banter."
Jungkook raises his hands in mock surrender, "Merely suggesting that Hoseok may have a point."
You huff, "I believe the issue lies not in my embellishments, but rather in the judgment of you four."
Abruptly, you turn your gaze to Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi. "What's your stance on my domicile embellishments? Do you deem them peculiar?"
Namjoon and Jin avert their gazes expeditiously. "Not peculiar, per se, but room for improvement, mayhaps."
Your mouth agape in incredulity, you shift your eyes to Yoongi, who, in nonchalance, utters, "I would counsel against seeking my perspective."
"You gentlemen are unkind; my choice of furnishings are perfectly adequate." You cross your arms with a defeated pout.
Amidst the snickers and amusement of the others, Yoongi breaks the sounds of teasing with unexpected words, "I find your choice of furnishings quite acceptable. They mirror the essence of your beautiful personality, a sentiment often overlooked. It reflects your warm perspective on the external world despite the adversities it has thrust upon you."
A moment of frozen silence follows Yoongi's unexpected words. His usual reserve, both in language and demeanor, makes such an expression of sentiment all the more noteworthy. Your eyes shimmer with appreciation, acknowledging his unusual display of affection.
"Oh, thank you, Yoongi. I had faith in your understanding." Moved by gratitude, you rise from your seat, traversing the table to where Yoongi sits, offering him an embrace.
The others observe this scene with amusement, witnessing Yoongi's stoic countenance in the face of your affectionate display. Yet, beneath the facade, there's an undeniable enjoyment that the astute onlookers can discern.
A twinge of envy courses through the younger trio. "Had it been one of us embracing you, you'd have protested vehemently," Jimin declares, crossing his arms with a playful smirk.
Taehyung joins in, grinning, "Shall we test this theory with our own embraces?"
"Do not test my patience." Yoongi warns, maintaining his composure even as you continue to hug him with unwavering enthusiasm.
"Oh, tread carefully, Y/N; you may inadvertently become the thief of our affections, and then we'll be seven lovers no more," Jin jests, playing along.
"Rest assured, my dear friends," you assure with a laugh, relinquishing Yoongi from your hold and retaking your seat opposite him. "I harbor no intentions of dismantling your polyamorous entanglements. Your relationships with one another are almost as precious to me as my individual friendships with each of you."
"Yet," you muse, "I cannot deny a flicker of envy."
Curiosity dances in Jin's eyes as he tilts his head. "For what reason, may I ask?"
"You all share a love so profound, a bond so unbreakable. I, on the contrary, find myself lacking in that department. I often ponder when the fates shall decree it my turn to discover someone who will cherish me as deeply as you all cherish one another."
Hoseok smiles, his gaze gentle. "Do not lose hope, dear Y/N. In due time, you shall encounter someone worthy of your affection, and they of yours."
"Thank you, Hobi," you respond gratefully. "Until then, I shall cherish the love and friendship we share."
As you approach the outskirts of Valoris, the quaint cottage comes into view, nestled amidst a thicket of gnarled trees and overgrown foliage. The air is thick with the scent of earth and wildflowers, a serene tranquility enveloping the surroundings. With each step, anticipation swells within you, mingled with a sense of familiarity and warmth at the thought of reuniting with the family you've come to know.
Pushing open the creaking gate, you make your way down the winding path, the crunch of gravel beneath your boots a comforting rhythm. The cottage stands before you, its timeworn facade bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the worn wooden porch.
With a soft knock, you announce your arrival, the sound echoing through the quietude of the evening. Moments pass before the door creaks open, revealing the figure of the mother, Esmae is her name, her weary eyes brightening at the sight of you.
"Y/N, you've returned," she murmurs, a smile dancing upon her lips as she steps aside, bidding you entry into the cozy embrace of their abode.
Within, the hearth crackles cheerfully, casting a soft radiance upon the modest surroundings. Jakub, the father, sits by the fire, his calloused hands cradling a steaming cup of tea, while a young girl occupies herself with a worn-out doll in the corner, her laughter a melody that fills the room.
"Yes, and I've brought provisions," you announce, brandishing a basket brimming with necessities.
"Y/N, it's a pleasure to see you once more. Thank you kindly for returning," Jakub greets, his voice laced with warmth as he gestures for you to join them.
The little one, Talia, clutching her tattered companion, peeks out from behind her father's chair, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/N, you've come back," she exclaims, a glimmer of delight piercing through the solemnity of their surroundings.
"I made a promise, did I not?" you respond, lowering yourself to meet the child's gaze. "And who might this be?" you inquire, motioning to the doll.
The girl beamed, holding the doll up for inspection. "This is Bonnie. She's my friend."
You couldn't help but smile at the simplicity of the bond between the girl and her tattered companion. "Bonnie is a lovely name for a lovely friend," you remarked.
Seated around the hearth, you regale the family with tales of your adventures since your last visit, their rapt attention hanging on your every word. Particularly Talia, who captivates you with her innocent musings and boundless curiosity.
She listens eagerly as you recount stories from distant lands, dreams that stretch beyond the confines of Valoris. Her eyes shimmer with wonder, momentarily eclipsing the harsh realities of their existence.
Over the past two days, you seamlessly integrate into their daily rhythm. The modest cottage, though weathered by time, brims with love and mirth.
At the first morning, you join the family in their chores, and tending to the modest garden that sustains them. Come afternoon, you explore the surrounding countryside together, wandering along meandering paths and discovering hidden glens, nature's beauty a constant wellspring of marvel and solace.
As night descends, you gather once more around the hearth, the flames casting dancing shadows upon the walls as you share stories and dreams beneath the canopy of stars.
With each passing moment, you find yourself further entwined in the fabric of their lives. Jin's cautionary words linger in the recesses of your mind, yet the genuine warmth of Esmae, Jakub, and Talia dispels any lingering doubts. The simplicity of their existence, juxtaposed against the enigmatic backdrop of Valoris, weaves a tapestry of contrasts that ensnares your soul.
As the sun paints the sky in hues of rose and gold on the second morning, you find yourself engaged in makeshift breakfast preparations with Esmae.
The aroma of a humble yet heartfelt meal permeates the air. "Thank you, Y/N, for bringing brightness into our humble dwelling," Esmae expresses, her eyes shimmering with a blend of gratitude and weariness.
"It's the least I can do," you reply, flipping a slice of bread on the makeshift griddle. "You've welcomed me into your fold, and I am grateful for the chance to be of service."
Throughout the ensuing hours, you assist Jakub in fortifying the cottage, bolstering its timeworn structure against the relentless march of time. Each nail driven into place feels like a vow, a pledge to shore up the foundation upon which this family's aspirations rest.
Later in the day, Talia extends an invitation to explore the outskirts of Valoris. "Mother, father, may Y/N accompany us as we frolic amidst the woods?" she asks with innocent exuberance.
"I see no reason why not," Esmae smiles down at Talia.
"Please, Y/N, ensure her safety," Jakub instructs you, to which you readily assent.
With her tiny hand clasped in yours, you embark on an adventure, uncovering hidden nooks and crannies as Talia regales you with tales of imaginary exploits. You play along, transforming mundane rocks into treasures and the rustling leaves into whispers of ancient lore.
Suddenly struck by inspiration, you yearn to reveal to Talia the enchanting wonders of the world, the magic that lies beyond the confines of Valoris. "Would you care to witness something truly enchanting?" you propose.
"Enchanting? Like magic?" Talia's eyes sparkle with anticipation.
You nod, a smile playing upon your lips. "Precisely so. But we must exercise discretion—recall what I've mentioned earlier."
She nods eagerly, awaiting the magical spectacle you promise. "What sort of enchantment do you possess, Y/N?"
Surveying your surroundings, your gaze alights upon a bedraggled bush of withering white flowers amidst the barren landscape. Therein lies your canvas for displaying your magical prowess.
"Come, follow me right here. You see these withering flowers," you point, and Talia gazes at them with curiosity. "What about it?"
"Watch—" With a flourish, you draw a deep breath and extend your hands over the bush, a glowing aura of dark blue magical energy emanating from the palms of your hands. You perform a cupping motion, turning your palms up and pushing your hands upward.
Through these motions, you coax the wilting flowers to life, their petals unfurling and blossoming into resplendent bloom under your arcane influence.
At the magical transformation, Talia's eyes brighten in amazement. "Wow! That was amazing!"
"Does that mean you're a witch, Miss Y/N?" she curiously wonders aloud.
You chuckle softly, nodding with pride. "Indeed, it does."
"Now, would you like a flower of your own?" you ask.
She nods with enthusiasm. "Yes, please!"
With a graceful gesture, you pluck a flower from the bush, cradling it delicately between your thumb and forefinger. Once again, you motion cast your magic, hand hovering over the white flower. "Here, I've enchanted the flower only for you, so that it may never wither away and may serve as a token of protection for you as long as you wear it."
With a radiant smile, you tuck the flower behind her ear, eliciting a giggle of delight from the child. "Thank you, miss Y/N!"
"Of course, little one." You smiled. "Now, let us return to the cottage; your parents must be awaiting our return. The dusk is upon us."
As the final night of your sojourn unfolded, the glow of the hearth waned, casting a flickering dance upon the walls of the cottage. Jakub, his countenance tinged with gravity, began to speak, "Y/N, Valoris has a knack for ensnaring those who dwell within its confines. Your benevolence, however, has been a guiding light, yet we must impress upon you the importance of discretion. Valoris harbors a history shrouded in shadows. Our family has found refuge here, shielded from prying eyes. The consequences would be dire if our existence were laid bare."
Meeting his gaze, an unspoken understanding passed between you. "I hold in high regard the sanctity of your privacy, Jakub. Your secret remains safe with me."
Esmae, her eyes reflecting a blend of relief and trepidation, nodded in gratitude. "Y/N, you've ushered a glimmer of hope into our lives. We are forever indebted to you."
In humility, you shook your head, but a moment of pause followed. Just as you had disclosed your plans to Jin, Jungkook, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Namjoon, you felt compelled to share it with Esmae and Jakub, as well.
Ensuring Talia lay in peaceful slumber, you returned your attention to the couple. "There is something I must share with you both."
Regret tinged your words as you confessed, "I harbor intentions of departing this kingdom, venturing beyond our borders."
To your surprise, instead of immediate reservations similar to your seven companions, their countenances displayed understanding and acceptance. "We understand," they echoed in unison.
"Pentaraegis is becoming increasingly perilous for you," Esmae sighed. "Though we reside on the outskirts, we are aware of the unrest brewing in the capital villages, and the royal family's eagerness to deploy their elite military unit for impending inquisitions. They merely await the faintest pretext to dispatch them."
A solemn nod conveyed your acknowledgment. "However, my departure is not imminent. I do not plan on it being permanent; Though, I am uncertain of the duration I will be absent..."
Jakub's calloused hand gently alighted upon your shoulder, halting your words. "Do not worry, Y/N. We understand, truly."
His kind eyes shifted to Esmae, who offered a content nod, and then returned to you. "You have bestowed upon us more than words can convey. In times of adversity, remember our home is always open to you."
Moved by their sincerity, you managed a teary smile. "It has been an honor to be acquainted with your family. I shall carry the tales of Valoris with me, returning whenever the opportunity arises."
As the conversation lingered in the twilight hours, Jakub's demeanor softened further. "Y/N, you carry a uniqueness that transcends the bounds of this realm. Your departure, whenever it may be, is a testament to your adventurous spirit. May the winds of fate guide you, and may the memories here remain etched in your heart."
On the following morning your preparations to depart drew the family to the entrance of their quaint cottage. Talia clutched your hand, her eyes reflecting unspoken sentiments. "Will you return, Y/N?" she inquired, her voice carrying a delicate vulnerability that tugged at your heart.
Bending at the knee to level with her, you replied, "I promise, Talia. I'll return whenever I can."
Standing, you exchanged glances with Esmae and Jakub. "Thank you for allowing me to form such bonds with you."
With a gentle upturn of their lips, they responded, "No, thank you, for your persistent kindness, Y/N."
Before your departure, Esmae presented a gift, aware of your loss and the absence of tangible memories of your parents. "I may not stand in your mother's stead, nor can I supplant her memory, but as one mother to another, accept this handmade garment. May it bring warmth on chilly nights."
With eyes filled with emotion, you received the blue cloth garment with delicate care. "It may not be perfection, but—" Esmae began, only to be interrupted by your heartfelt interjection. "It is absolute perfection."
"Thank you," you uttered, your vision blurred by tears of joy, as you enveloped her in an embrace, met with equal fervor. In a whisper, she conveyed her parting wish. "May your travels be marked by safety."
As you retraced your steps through the makeshift cobblestone pathway of Valoris, a profound sense of fulfillment and connection accompanied you. The bonds formed over those two duskars surpassed mere acts of kindness; they transcended the boundaries of secrecy and solitude.
As you approached the entrance of the capital village, a congregation of your companions awaited your return, their countenances a medley of curiosity and concern. A mirthful grin adorned your lips as you beheld their gathering.
Taehyung, with alacrity, snapped his head up upon noticing your approach. "Y/N—! Our princess has graced us with her presence!" His stride towards you mirrored that of a child rushing into the embrace of a long-lost parent.
A melodious giggle escaped your lips as you welcomed his theatrics, allowing him to enfold you in a lavish hug, twirling you about as his arms encircled you.
"Greetings, Taehyung." Laughter lingered as he gently set you down.
The others promptly joined the reunion, hastening toward you. Jimin was the first by your side. "You cannot fathom how preoccupied my mind was with your well-being, though your absence was but brief."
You chuckled, "You need not have worried, Jimin. I have returned unharmed."
He playfully rolled his eyes. "Indeed, we are indebted to the heavens for that."
"I suspect Jimin may suffer from separation anxiety during your impromptu sojourns," Jungkook jestingly interjected.
Jimin feigned a frowning glare. "That is an unfounded accusation!"
Jin, joining the playful banter, added with a smile, "If memory serves me right, Jimin, you were so consumed with worry over Y/N that you sought solace on her couch, claiming it to be the 'closest' you could feel to her in her absence."
A warm blush tinged Jimin's cheeks at the revelation of his clandestine actions during your absence. You shared a laugh over the unexpected disclosure. "Pay no mind to them, Y/N. They simply fail to value you as much as I do."
Taehyung scoffs in mock offense. "Absurd! We cherish Y/N as deeply as you do."
"Indeed, for instance—" Jungkook declared, seizing you suddenly and hoisting you onto his shoulder. You emitted a squeal in response to the abrupt maneuver. With effortless strength and athleticism, he sprinted away.
"Hey—!" Jimin and Taehyung exclaimed in unison, wearing matching pouts.
"Jungkook—! Exercise caution with her!" Jin admonished, giving chase along with the others, his worry akin to a parent scolding their wayward progeny.
As the impromptu race unfolded, the quaint charm of the capital village painted a picturesque scene. Cobblestone streets served as the stage for your lively pursuit, resonating with laughter and jests that danced through the air.
Jungkook's agile strides effortlessly carried you along, his grasp firm yet gentle. The verdant surroundings blurred as he skillfully navigated the thoroughfare, the sun casting a warm, golden hue upon your spirited procession.
"Jungkook, you impetuous scoundrel! Release our friend this instant!" Jin's voice rang out, a mix of concern and amusement evident in his tone.
Jungkook's laughter echoed as he expertly weaved through the labyrinthine alleys. Before long, you all found yourselves in a bustling market square, where stalls overflowed with an assortment of wares. The townsfolk watched with bemusement, their daily routines momentarily interrupted by the eccentricity of your reunion.
Jin, panting slightly as he caught up, spoke between breaths, "You rascal certainly know how to stir up a commotion."
"Well, pardon the commotion, good sir," Jungkook quipped, his grin mischievous as ever. "We merely seek to enliven these dreary streets."
Hoseok, now catching up, adds with a smile. "Ah, the mirth of our reunion! It rivals the finest tales spun by bards in the village square!"
Hoseok, catching up, joined in with a smile. "Ah, the joy of our reunion! It rivals the most captivating tales spun by village bards!"
As the excitement settled, you all found respite in a charming courtyard adorned with vibrant flora and aged benches. Seated amidst this tranquil setting, Jin playfully chided Jungkook, his words tinged with affectionate reproach. "A lively reunion indeed, my dear Jungkook, but let us not forget propriety.”
Jungkook bowed in jest. "My apologies, Jin. The fervor of the moment overcame me."
Amidst the bustle, a quaint tavern caught our eye, its warm glow and enticing aroma beckoning like a siren's song. With enthusiasm, Hoseok proposed a venture into this inviting establishment, a suggestion met with unanimous agreement.
The rustic charm of the tavern enveloped you all, as the eight of you settled at a sturdy wooden table. Jin, ever the gentleman, pulled out your seat with gallant courtesy, earning a nod of gratitude as you took your place.
"Welcome, how may I serve you all?" inquired the server as she approached your table.
Jin turned to the server with a courteous smile. "For our party, might we partake in your specialty, the main dish of the emberis? And as we are humbly celebrating our friend's return," he gestured towards you, "perhaps a pint of cider for the lady, and only for her." A playful wink accompanied his words, causing your face to drop in shock.
(Emberis symbolizes the sparks of activity and intensity within a week. It reflects the dynamic nature of each seven-day period.)
Your expression falters in surprise. "Jin—such extravagance is unwarranted. I've only been away for two duskars. And what about the rest of you? Surely you have as much right to partake in libations."
Hoseok shakes his head with a smile, interjecting, "You forget, dear Y/N, that we are sworn to protect. Though off duty now, we must remain vigilant, especially in the company of our lady."
You concede with a playful huff. "If you all insist..." Then, a sudden realization strikes you. "But what of the expense? It could prove quite burdensome."
Jin places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his smile gentle. "Do not fret, Y/N. We shall cover the cost. To us, the price is naught compared to the joyous occasion we share together."
At last, the server returns, presenting your cider beside you and placing a plate of food before the party of eight. "Thank you," Jin acknowledges with a slight bow.
"So, Y/N—how fared your time with the kin in Valoris?" Jin inquires as he serves himself a portion.
"It was truly sentimental," you begin, recounting simple yet bonding activities with Esmae, Jakub, and Talia. You omitted the part where you demonstrated your magical abilities to Talia but conveyed that your stay was a joyous time well spent.
"That's heartening to hear, Y/N," Namjoon remarked. "It appears you forged a beautiful bond with this small family."
A small, appreciative smile graced your face. "Indeed, and I'm grateful. They've taught me the beauty of simplicity, despite my yearning for more spontaneous and adventurous pursuits."
"I'm pleased they treated you well," Jimin added, smiling.
"Yes, and I must—" Before you can continue, a morsel of food is swiftly deposited into your mouth. Your eyes widen slightly in response to the unexpected gesture, darting from the hand that fed you to the composed countenance of Yoongi.
"You mustn't neglect sustenance," Yoongi stated matter-of-factly, his actions eliciting laughter from the others gathered around the table.
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Valoris, young Talia stumbles upon a small note near her makeshift bed, left there in secret by you. With curiosity piqued, she unfolds the paper, reading your handwriting: "To my dear Talia, in my absence, should you find yourself missing me, I've left something to remind you of our bond. Guard it closely and share our secret with no one. Return to the spot where I bestowed upon you your special flower. There, you'll witness a wondrous sight that will always be there."
With excitement dancing in her eyes, Talia tucks the note away and hurries on her tiny feet to the place where you displayed your magical abilities. And there, she discovers a marvel. What was once a barren expanse now blooms with vibrant wildflowers. She gasps in wonder, her wide eyes drinking in the enchanting scene.
Back in the capital village, surrounded by your seven male companions. In all candor, your spirits, elevated beyond the ordinary by the liberal consumption of fermented libations, have led you to a state of inebriation. This amusing spectacle, much to the delight and mild concern of your companions, finds you atop a tavern table, engaging in a spirited dance amidst the company of four gentlemen seated below.
"By the heavens, Y/N, have a care!" Jin exclaims, his voice a harmonious blend of amusement and apprehension. "You'll topple over if you're not mindful."
You wave off his concern with a drunken grin, swaying precariously on the table. "Nonsense, Jin! I'm as steady as a ship in harbor." The tavern's patrons find themselves captivated, drawn to the infectious mirth of your spontaneous performance.
Namjoon, with a bemused shake of his head, counters, "You seem more akin to a ship ensnared by the fury of a storm, if I may be so bold."
Hoseok leaned in, a smile playing on his lips. "It seems our dear Y/N has become the centerpiece of the duskar's entertainment."
Jimin, unable to contain his laughter, adds, "Who could have anticipated such a delightful twist to our celebration?"
Yoongi, the embodiment of composure, observes with a raised brow. "Well, I must confess, this is not the typical mid-duskar I envisioned."
Taehyung, playing along with the revelry, clapped his hands, urging you on. "Encore, Y/N! Let the spirit of festivity direct your movements!"
Jin, with a broad grin, concurs, "Indeed, she has wholeheartedly surrendered to the spirits of the occasion."
Your laughter cascades through the tavern as you daringly attempt a spin, nearly losing your footing. Jungkook extends a hand to steady you, a grin adorning his features. "Careful now, Y/N. A tumble at this juncture would certainly stir quite the commotion."
Yet, their words of caution fall on deaf ears, your heart and soul enraptured by the euphoria of the moment. Intoxicated by both companionship and cider, your impromptu dance continues, filling the midday air with laughter and cheer.
Jungkook, turning his attention back to his six lovers, a smirk playing on his lips at your antics, suggests, "Perchance we ought to ensure she partakes of some sustenance, alongside copious amounts of water to mitigate the effects of her indulgence."
Jimin, catching the sentiment with a nod and a smile, adds. "Indeed, for her diminutive stature seems overly susceptible to the intoxicating effects."
"Yet one cannot deny the entertainment derived from the spectacle," Taehyung remarks with a nonchalant shrug.
A pause ensues before Hoseok ventures, "Pardon my interruption, but may I pose a query?"
"What is it, my love?" Jin responds.
"It has just occurred to me, have we neglected to inform Y/N about the masquerade ball set to occur in two duskars hence? Or has that detail escaped our collective remembrance?"
(duskar represents both day and night. It acknowledges the importance of celestial transitions and the balance between light and darkness.)
A series of awkward exchanges followed, confirming Hoseok's suspicion—that indeed, the event had slipped their minds. A collective sigh of mild frustration escaped him.
Jungkook playfully admonishes Jimin with a swat. "I was under the impression you had already informed her!"
Jimin, momentarily taken aback, retorts with a pout, "Indeed not! The responsibility was Taehyung's, as he was the most vocally enthusiastic about her attendance."
Taehyung, caught off guard, protests, "I beg your pardon! Namjoon advised it was premature for such disclosures, fearing it might dismay her."
All eyes then pivot to Namjoon, who, caught in the crossfire, adopts a stance of mock surrender. "Well—that was a concern of emberises past. I had assumed the matter would have been addressed by now."
Amidst this exchange, Yoongi, whose observance often goes unnoticed, glances towards the table, only to find your absence—and the departure of the four gentlemen as well. His protective instincts trigger, eyes slightly widening, for that could only mean one thing, and it's not a favorable one.
While the others continued their debate, oblivious to your absence, Yoongi attempted to interject. "Gentlemen..."
"Gentlemen..." His efforts to capture their attention were drowned out by the cacophony of their discussion.
Driven by a growing sense of urgency, Yoongi's patience waned, and he raised his voice, "Gentlemen! If you would but notice, our lady is conspicuously absent, and conveniently, so are the four gentlemen!"
The sudden revelation forces the boisterous banter to a halt as the six other men turn their attention to the now vacant table where you once danced. Panic seizes their expressions.
"Where is she?" Jin's voice betrays a mix of concern and urgency.
"She was right there a moment ago!" Hoseok scans the surroundings, his eyes widening with realization.
Jungkook, still attempting to locate you, mumbles, "This is why we shouldn't have let her drink so much."
Jimin looks around frantically, "She can't have gone far. Let's split up and find her."
The seven men scatter in different directions, anxiety clutching at them like an invisible vice. They interrogate patrons and innkeepers, desperately seeking clues about your whereabouts.
Meanwhile, you find yourself in a secluded alley, guided by four gentlemen who lured you away from the revelry. The initial thrill of the impromptu dance fades into confusion as you grapple to comprehend the situation.
"Where are you leading me?" you inquire, a blend of curiosity and unease in your voice.
The lead gentleman, adorned in a fine waistcoat and top hat, smirks. "To a realm where merriment and revelry know no bounds, my dear. A concealed treasure for the privileged few."
The others exchange sly glances, and a sinking feeling settles in as the desolate alley grows more ominous.
Back with your companions, the search intensifies. Jungkook's voice pierces through the tension. "Over here! I found something."
The group converges on Jungkook, who points to a discarded ribbon, a familiar one that once adorned your hair. Anxiety deepens as the realization of potential harm sets in.
"We must find her," Namjoon declares with determination. "Split up and scour every nook and cranny. She can't be far."
The group disperses once more, urgency and concern now replacing the initial joyous atmosphere.
In the hidden gem the gentlemen led you to, a dimly lit haven unfolds with plush furnishings and an air of opulence. The four men encircle you, their intentions growing increasingly apparent.
"Welcome to the Fable Flame," the lead gentleman declares, his smirk widening. "A sanctuary for those seeking pleasures beyond the ordinary."
Your eyes widen with realization, fear and defiance flickering in your gaze. "I did not choose this. Release me!"
The other three men exchange predatory glances, and your attempts to retreat prove futile within the confines of the room.
Back in the bustling capital village, the seven men comb through the streets, their worry escalating. Yoongi, with determination etched on his face, spots a torn piece of fabric on a nearby fence—an unmistakable fragment of your dress.
His heart races as he follows the trail, the search taking a dark turn, the situation growing more dire.
Within the dimly lit chamber, the four men forcefully press you against an ornate bed. The lead gentleman, a sinister smirk etched on his face, handles you with a roughness that sends shivers down your spine. "Resist as you may, my dear, but soon, you'll find solace in surrender."
"P-Please, no—" Your plea barely escapes your lips, swallowed by the heavy air of despair.
Driven by urgency, your companions scour the area fervently, the tattered fabric guiding them to a dilapidated structure.
Yoongi, a resolute figure at the forefront, senses impending danger. "This way," he murmurs, his voice a whisper against the backdrop of doom.
Cautiously, the group ventures into the building, senses alert to the ominous silence. Each creak of the floorboards, each rustle of fabric, echoes with foreboding. As they navigate labyrinthine corridors, a distant door groans open, revealing a chamber steeped in darkness.
Pushing the door ajar, Yoongi's eyes widen—a macabre tableau unfolds within. You, pinned like a sacrificial lamb, beneath the sinister gaze of the lead gentleman and his cohorts. Tension crackles in the air, thick with the scent of fear and defiance.
A moment of silence ensues as the captors take stock of the intruders. The lead gentleman's smirk widens, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Ah, latecomers to the party. How quaint."
Yoongi's gaze hardens, his resolve unyielding. "Release her. Now."
The lead gentleman's grip tightens on your chin, his touch invasive and possessive. "And why would I do that? She's rather enjoying herself, wouldn't you agree?"
Your glassy eyes, wide with terror. "I beg of you, help me..."
Yoongi, accompanied by Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook, refrained from uttering a single word. An unbridled rage burned within them, propelling them forward into an imminent clash with the three assailants.
Simultaneously, as the skirmish erupted, the chief antagonist, maintaining his grip on you, surveyed the unfolding brawl with malevolent intent. His eyes gleamed with malice, and then, shifting his gaze toward you, he declared, "Do you reckon you can elude me with ease? I beg to differ."
With a sudden flourish, he extracted a gleaming blade from his boot, discreetly seizing you by the hair and hauling you off the bed, dragging you into the center of the room. "That's enough!"
Seizing the moment, he pressed the knife against your neck, eliciting a collective pause from your seven companions and the three adversaries. "Any further trouble, and I'll slit her throat without a second thought."
Jungkook moved to intervene, but Namjoon swiftly halted him. "Hold."
"But Namjoon—" Jungkook protested, only to be silenced by a raised hand, signifying a steadfast refusal.
"Listen to him," the captor jeered, grinning spitefully.
"Release her, and there will be no further altercation," Namjoon asserted.
The captor chuckled darkly. "Can't a man enjoy himself a bit first? You lot are men, too, aren't you? Surely, you understand the value of personal pleasures."
"There's a disparity between being merely a man and a true gentleman. The former lacks honor, much like yourself. As gentlemen, we comprehend the significance of consent, a virtue conspicuously absent in your demeanor," Hoseok retorted with a seething tone.
The captor's eyes narrowed at Hoseok's words before abruptly turning his attention back to you. "Come now, my dear, prove to these 'gentlemen' that you welcomed this."
Your silence seemed to irritate him further. The blade traced a perilous path from your neck downward, nearing the delicate contours of your breasts.
Yet, before he could proceed further, a cry of pain erupted as he fell to the ground, a double-ended knife embedded in his shoulder. Your gaze shifted to Jimin, his hand still outstretched from the throw, his eyes ablaze with fury.
Turning toward the remaining captors, Jimin questioned, "Who among you wishes to follow suit?"
Fear flickered across the faces of the trio, their heads shaking vehemently. "Leave, or I'll kill you myself," Jimin commanded, prompting the men to hastily flee.
Empowered by the turn of events, you found strength in your legs, hastening towards your seven guardians. Jimin extended his arms, enveloping you protectively. His nose nestled atop your head, a palpable sigh of relief escaping him.
Yoongi advanced towards the wounded miscreant with a demeanor that brooked no argument. "Should you ever lay a hand on a woman in such a manner again, I shall personally hunt you down and dismantle you limb from limb. Understand?"
The captor nodded fervently, his attempts to suppress his whimpers of pain were futile, as his quivering lip gave away his torment.
Without a flicker of emotion, Yoongi then seized the hilt of the double-ended blade, a cruel reminder of the violence just passed.
With a swift, unyielding yank, he liberated the weapon from flesh, crimson torrents cascading from the gaping wound, staining his hands and the ground beneath him. His face remained a mask of impassive justice, marred only by the flecks of blood that adorned his features like macabre war paint.
Posthaste, Yoongi returned to where you stood, with a gentleness that belied the stern resolve of his previous actions, he divested himself of his royal soldier's coat and placed it upon your shoulders, a protective mantle to shield you from the unusual chill of atmosphere and the ordeal you had endured.
He then turned to Jimin, extending the reclaimed weapon with a nod, "Let us return home." Yoongi declared, his tone now softened.
Back at your humble abode, your companions gallantly escorted you home, forming a protective cocoon around you even upon crossing the threshold. Jimin's strong arms encircled you, a fortress of reassurance.
Not a single word needed to be uttered, for the unspoken understanding prevailed amongst your close-knit group. Jungkook, swift and decisive, took the lead, his movements within your sanctuary as natural as if he were navigating his own domain, seeking flint and steel to kindle a warming blaze in the hearth.
Hoseok hastened to your kitchen, concocting a soothing blend of chamomile and peppermint for a rejuvenating tea. Jin, his hands deftly moving in the manner of an experienced caretaker, joined Hoseok in preparing a basin of cool water, a washcloth, and a small bar of soap, ready to tenderly cleanse away the remnants of the late afternoon’s turmoil. Following suit, Yoongi ventured into the kitchen, presumably to whip up a modest repast that would serve to counteract the intoxicating remnants coursing through you.
As for Taehyung, he proceeded into your bedroom, searching for fresh attire and, albeit awkwardly, extracting your more intimate garments. Their intent on ministering to your well-being, they choreographed their efforts with finesse.
Jimin and Namjoon, however, maintained their steadfast vigil by your side, their protective presence lingering even in the absence of immediate peril. Presently, Taehyung emerged from the sanctity of your bedchamber, announcing with a gentle timbre, “I have your attire prepared for you, Y/N.”
Gazing up at him, a weariness from spirits evident in your eyes, you expressed gratitude, "Thank you, Tae."
Acknowledging your thanks with a nod and a smile, he beckoned, “Come along, now.”
Jimin effortlessly lifted you in his arms, carrying you with bridal grace towards the sanctuary of your bedchamber, with Jin trailing close behind, the basin and its accouterments in hand.
“Before we proceed to clothe you anew, let us first tend to cleansing, shall we?” Jin suggested, his tone one of gentle insistence.
Your response was a weary nod, an assent given as Jimin tenderly deposited you upon your bed. Jin, with delicate precision, moved a portion of your clothing aside to begin the cleansing process. Yet, in an unforeseen twist, you impulsively divested yourself of the garment entirely, sending a ripple of astonishment through Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin, their eyes widening in unison.
Jimin and Taehyung, in a chivalrous retreat, averted their gaze, while Jin, startled, lifted his eyes heavenward, engendering a collective symphony of awkward coughs. A warm flush brushed their cheeks as they realized you had inadvertently exposed yourself. Perhaps, in the closeness of your bond, you had grown accustomed to their presence, regardless of your activities or location.
Namjoon entered the room at that moment, intending to convey updates. However, his eyes widened as he grasped the awkward tableau before him. "Oh—!" Hastily, he turned away, a mirrored action of respect.
Your reaction time, slowed by alcohol, eventually processed their collective retreat. "Why? Is there something amiss with my appearance?" you queried with a subtle pout, oblivious to your own actions.
Jin cleared his throat, attempting to dispel the awkwardness. “N-no! Far from it...” He continued his ministrations without letting his gaze stray to more intimate areas.
Your gaze lifted abruptly, questioning Jin directly, "Am I not beautiful?"
Without premeditation, Jin met your gaze, sincerity softening his features. “No, you are the most enchanting woman my eyes have beheld. No other can compare."
"He speaks true," Taehyung and Jimin murmured in agreement.
Interrupting the moment, Namjoon interjected, “Indeed—apologies for my intrusion. I merely wished to inform you that Jungkook has kindled the fire, Hoseok has concocted the tea, and Yoongi is nearly done preparing a modest yet nourishing repast for you. Freshen up at your pace; we'll be waiting outside."
Namjoon directed a pointed gaze at Jimin and Taehyung, a silent command hanging in the air. “I said, we shall all convene outside. Shall we, gentlemen?” Namjoon emphasized, his message finally registering with the duo.
“Awh, do we truly have to—” Taehyung began to whine, cut short by Namjoon seizing him by the collar and dragging him outside, while Jimin followed without protest. And with a closing door, a semblance of privacy returned.
In the wake of those moments, Jin gracefully exited your chamber, allowing you the privacy to don your fresh attire. The burly gentleman then reentered the kitchen, deftly disposing of the soiled water, and briefly refreshing the washcloth before reinstating the small basin and soap to their rightful places.
Just then, Jin catches a redolence wafting from the viands that Yoongi is diligently culminating, adroitly depositing the contents into an intricately carved wooden bowl. "Oooh, that aroma is quite delightful..."
"Is that pottage you've concocted, Yoongi dear?" Jin inquires, casting a discerning glance as Yoongi continues to ladle the savory mixture into the receptacle, to which Yoongi grunts affirmatively in response.
"How did you acquire the meat for it?" Jin asks, a tad taken aback by the presence of poultry within.
"Leftovers from her pots," Yoongi tersely responds, prompting Jin to nod in comprehension with a soft 'ah' escaping his lips.
Subsequently, the gathering reconvened in the living room, ensconced by the warmth of your fireplace. Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin repose upon the floor adjacent to the central coffee table, while Hoseok and Namjoon grace the solitary sofa chairs flanking the table. Jin settled on one end of the three-seater couch, and Yoongi adorns the tray on the table, featuring the potation prepared by Hoseok and the delectable pottage.
Moments later, you emerged from your quarters, resplendent in the attire previously selected by Taehyung. Jungkook, ever the gallant escort, offered his arm, guiding you towards the couch where the tea and Yoongi's culinary creation awaited.
Observing the tray's contents, your eyes traverse the assembly—Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jin. "Thank you for attending to my well-being."
Warm smiles were exchanged. "Anything for you," they chorused.
Leaning forward, Jin extended an offer, "Would you care for some pottage? You needn't consume it all, but it might aid your recovery, along with the tea."
"Absolutely, I could never decline sustenance crafted by Lord Yoongi," you chuckled, injecting a touch of levity into the atmosphere despite the recent perilous events.
Jin commences assisting you, offering spoonfuls of pottage and elevating the teacup to your lips with finesse. Meanwhile, the others lounge, engaged in casual conversations as if the now early evening were ordinary.
You lapse into momentary silence, contemplative of recent occurrences. Without premeditation, you articulate your ruminations aloud. "We must put an end to such establishments. None should endure such cruelty."
A collective pause ensued, truth be told, they anticipate such sentiments from you, cognizant of your altruistic nature despite enduring adversity. Jin, wearing a serene smile, interjected, "We shall address that in due course. For now, our primary concern is your well-being."
As Jin brought the spoon to your lips, you swallowed the contents, falling momentarily silent before another thought found its voice. "I just remembered something I forgot to inquire about."
All eyes turned toward you. "What is it, Y/N?"
After a momentary hesitation, you muster the courage to voice your inquiry. "Um... I happened upon a handbill in the capital village mentioning a masquerade ball scheduled in two duskars… I am intrigued and wondered if you all are aware of it."
A measure of astonishment registers on their visages, realizing they had intended to extend an invitation emberises ago but had inadvertently overlooked it, fearing you might eschew the prospect. Now, with your inquiry, a sense of relief washes over them, empowering them to broach the subject.
Hoseok's eyes illuminate with enthusiasm. "That sounds like an excellent proposition!"
"Truly?" You sheepishly smiled, Hoseok nodding enthusiastically. However, your countenance shifted, "Yet, I lack an appropriate gown for such an occasion."
Jin dismisses the concern with a wave of his hand. "Nonsense, Y/N. Have you forgotten the company you keep?" A trace of playful arrogance graces his countenance. "I shall summon the finest tailors to craft a gown that befits your beauty."
"Would you truly do that, Jinnie?" you asked, your eyes alight with gratitude.
"Of course!" he affirmed, as Jimin added, "And fear not, Y/N. Your beauty transcends attire; you shall outshine every woman present at the ball."
"Thank you, Jimin," you murmured shyly. "So, would you all be willing to accompany me?"
Collective nods affirm your query, prompting a grateful smile from you. "I am filled with anticipation! It shall be my first ball. Thank you!"
Fatigue abruptly descends upon you, manifesting in a yawn. The attentive septet takes notice, Jin, seated beside you, gently placing the bowl and spoon aside. "Are you weary?"
You nod in acknowledgment. Hoseok rises. "I shall stow away the dishes."
Jin inquires, "Would you prefer to retire to your chamber for repose, Y/N?" You wearily shake your head. "No, I would rather remain here. Sleep among you all, if that's acceptable."
Jin smiles warmly. "More than acceptable. Come, recline upon me." He nudges you gently, prompting you to rest your head upon his lap, your feet propped upon the couch.
Unseen by you, Jungkook promptly fetched a blanket, draping it over you with care. You adjust yourself for comfort. "Apologies, I realize it is still early evening—"
"It understandable. The exertions from your journey on foot from Valoris earlier this morn, coupled with the spirited dancing at the tavern until the, shall we say, 'mishap' we encountered, surely have wearied you," Taehyung interjects with a chuckle.
"Rest, Y/N. You are deserving of it," Namjoon advises.
Before long, you succumbed to slumber, a serene quietude enveloped the chamber, broken only by the gentle cadence of your breathing, a testament to the peaceful slumber you had found.
"So, are we to dismiss Yoongi's earlier allusion to Y/N as 'our lady'?" Taehyung pondered aloud, his posture relaxed, hands clasped behind his head in a gesture of casual reflection.
The inquiry lingered, casting a shared exchange of glances among the septet, each harboring individual musings on the matter. Yoongi, a man of sparse words, appeared unperturbed by the collective gaze. Yet, a faint amusement flickered across his visage, betraying his stoic exterior.
A playful smirk danced upon Jungkook's lips. "Indeed, we all took note. Might this signify an evolving affection for our esteemed Y/N, dear Yoongi?"
A momentary tension draped the room, only to be dispelled by Yoongi's scoff. "Absurdity. I merely acknowledged her rightful standing among us."
Jungkook's brows arched mischievously. "'Rightful standing,' you say? Be cautious, Yoongi, your words reveal more than you may intend."
"It seems to me," Namjoon interjected with a sly grin, "that we've all discerned a certain... tenderness in Yoongi's address. A sentiment perhaps deeper than he admits."
Jimin, unable to resist joining the banter, shared his insight with a cunning smile. "It is a rare occasion indeed for Yoongi to bestow such a title upon anyone. It does carry a significance, does it not?"
Attempting to steer the conversation away from the burgeoning speculation, Yoongi retorted, "Your interpretations far exceed the bounds of reason. Let us rather concentrate on her welfare and the impending masquerade."
Taehyung leaned in, his expression one of impish delight. "Yet, 'our lady' carries a resonance, does it not? A phrase befitting someone of special regard, not merely a companion."
Jungkook rejoined the conversation with a gleam of mischief, "Mayhap Yoongi's affections have indeed been kindled by our fair Y/N."
Jimin added with a grin, "Well, she is quite captivating. Who wouldn't be enchanted by her?" His gaze then tenderly fell upon you, a warmth evident in his eyes.
This display of affection did not escape the notice of the others. Despite the complex web of their polyamory relationship, no shadow of envy or malcontent marred their feelings towards each other's evident fondness for you, a phenomenon that baffled them yet remained unquestioned.
Hoseok voiced his reflections, his gaze affectionate as he watched you. "Indeed... Our companionship with her, spanning from the innocence of childhood to the cusp of adulthood, has always been a wellspring of mutual care and affection."
Jin, with a gentle demeanor, softly brushed away the errant strands of hair veiling your face, tucking them behind your ear with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "If only she comprehended the depth of her significance to us,” he whispered, more to himself than to the others.
Namjoon, less obvious but still captivated, stared at you. "I believe she perceives it, on some level... she must."
"And I am certain she reciprocates the sentiment," he added.
Two duskars had elapsed, and at last, the eve of the grand ball had arrived. Jin, true to his word, had summoned one of the most esteemed tailors in the kingdom to create a gown for you, meticulously taking your measurements and ensuring the attire aligned with your desires. A bespoke mask was also crafted, intended to complement the elegance of your gown for the impending masquerade.
Admittedly, the experience of being measured was a novel one, with an array of hands adjusting and clothing pins perilously close to your skin. Despite the initial discomfort, the attention bestowed upon you instilled a sense of importance, marking your initiation into the realm of pampering. Jin and, unsurprisingly, Hoseok collaborated to orchestrate a comprehensive makeover. In the fleeting hours leading up to the ball, skilled artisans in makeup and hairdressing dedicated themselves to enhancing your allure. Finally, adorned in your custom gown, the transformation was complete.
The transformation was, without a shadow of a doubt, breathtaking. Though you remained unaware of the extent of your beauty, the moment of reveal was imminent. Descending the staircase of Jin's opulent abode, where preparations for the masquerade had been made, you were about to present yourself to the collective gaze of Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, Jin, and Yoongi. They awaited at the foot of the stairs, each garbed in suits of exquisite craftsmanship, their attire reflecting their noble status within the kingdom yet tailored for this special occasion.
The moment your presence graced the final steps, their faces mirrored an awe that rendered them momentarily speechless.
Dressed in a dark blue ball gown, its sleeves adorned with delicate lace and gems that sparkled like stars, you became the focal point of their admiration. The atmosphere hung thick with admiration as your eyes met theirs, and a subtle nervousness crept in, amplified by their prolonged silence. "Is something amiss?" you nervously inquired.
"Do I not appear well in this attire?" you added.
"No!" they exclaimed in unison, their initial shock breaking into a cacophony of reassurances.
Taehyung cleared his throat awkwardly. "Certainly not, Lady Y/N. You're resplendent."
"Arguably the most stunning vision to grace our lives," Jungkook gently interjected.
You looked away, bashfully dismissing their compliments. "Oh, you're all merely attempting to flatter me. I can't possibly—"
"No flattery intended, Y/N," Jin interjected. "You truly are beautiful."
"In any attire, you radiate beauty, but tonight, it's truly exceptional," Jimin stumbled over his words, his gaze unwavering. Enchanted by your presence, all seven pairs of eyes remained fixated on you.
Namjoon took a decisive step forward, capturing your attention as he extended his hand, a silent request for your company. "Shall we make our way to the ball? A full night awaits us."
With a smile, you acquiesced, "We shall."
The grand ballroom, adorned in lavish splendor, embraced the seven of you as you entered. The melodic strains of a waltz commenced, enticing you into the dance with Namjoon. His authoritative yet gentle demeanor guided your steps, immersing you in the graceful whirl of the ballroom. Amidst the elegant rotations, conversation flowed effortlessly like a gentle stream.
"Your gown exudes the regal elegance of a bygone era," Namjoon remarked, his charming smile captivating your gaze.
"You're too gracious," you replied, returning his smile. "It seems I owe you all my deepest gratitude for this enchanting evening."
Namjoon's laughter resonated through the dance, "The pleasure is ours, fair Y/N. Your radiance illuminates this soirée."
As the waltz concluded, Hoseok approached, eager to share a dance. His movements exuded buoyancy, mirroring his exuberant spirit. "May I say, you're a vision, Y/N. A testament to tonight's splendors."
Chuckling, you responded, "I owe this transformation to the skilled hands of many, including yours and Jin’s, Hoseok."
His grin widened. "A collaborative effort to enhance the innate beauty you possess, my lady."
Following suit was Jungkook, his dance exuding youthful vitality. "You resemble a character from a fairy tale, Y/N. A modern-day Cinderella."
"Such flattering comparisons," you chuckled, "but this fairy tale boasts seven charming princes."
Jungkook's laughter echoed. "I am honored to be counted among them, fair maiden."
As the dance with Jungkook concluded, Taehyung approached with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I must confess, Y/N, your beauty leaves us speechless. A rare occurrence, I assure you."
You grinned. "I suppose I should consider it a triumph, then."
Taehyung twirled you in an elaborate spin. "Indeed. A triumph of grace and beauty."
Yoongi then led the subsequent dance with effortless elegance. "You've added an enchanting touch to this gathering, Y/N. A night that shall be etched in memory."
"I am honored to be part of such a memorable occasion," you replied, matching his graceful movements.
Jimin, the final dance partner, led with a flair for the dramatic, whisking you into an energetic dance. "You've captivated us all, Y/N. A true siren amidst this sea of revelry."
Blushing, you playfully retorted, "You exaggerate, Jimin. The enchantment is mutual, I assure you."
A brief breathy chuckle escaped Jimin's lips as he gently swayed you to the music, letting a comfortable silence envelop both of you for a moment. Then, his eyes met yours, a hint of solemnity in his gaze. "Y/N, there's something I wish to express."
You hummed softly, directing your attention to him. "What is it, Jimin?"
He held your gaze, his expression earnest. "I wish to offer my gratitude."
Perplexed, you tilted your head slightly. "Gratitude? For what?"
"At that lake, in our youth, when we casted our wishes," he explained, a fond smile playing on his lips.
You chuckled softly, recalling the memory. "You mean the 'magical' lake escapade?"
Jimin nodded, his smile widening. "Indeed. Your wish, amidst our materialistic desires, was simple yet profound. It shaped our journey in ways we hadn't realized until now."
"You hesitated to voice it initially, but I'm glad you found the courage to do so because it's likely the reason I find myself content where I am now. And it's because we're all together... And I like to think you played a significant role in making that happen. That's why I want to express my gratitude."
You smiled at his sentiment, gently releasing your hand from his to tenderly cup his cheek. "There's no need to thank me, Jimin. It wasn't solely my doing, but the collective effort of all of us. It's a great blessing that our friendship has endured through the years until now. And I hope fervently that it continues indefinitely, just as I wished."
Jimin leaned into your touch. "Well, considering how the wishes of myself and the other gentlemen seem to have come to fruition, I have no doubt yours will remain steadfast."
Returning to your dance position, you closed the distance between you and Jimin, resting your head against his shoulder as you swayed to the music. "Thank you, Jimin. And thank you for remaining my friend despite the disparity in our social standings."
"Nonsense. Our social status shouldn't dictate our friendship nor divide us," he insisted.
As the night progressed, the ballroom was filled with laughter, music, and the rustle of elegant gowns, enveloping the atmosphere. Eventually, you excused yourself to refresh, your throat parched from the laughter and conversation. Approaching the refreshment table, your hand hovered over a glass when a smooth yet unfamiliar voice interrupted.
"Such beauty should never be left unattended, even in a room filled with admirers," the stranger remarked, his tone laden with compliments as his eyes appraised you.
You offered a polite smile, unsure of his intentions. "Thank you, sir. The evening has been most enjoyable," you replied, trying to maintain the courteous yet distant demeanor taught to you for such encounters.
"But surely, it could be improved with the right company," he persisted, stepping closer in a manner that reduced the distance between you. His words were designed to charm, yet they began to weave a web of discomfort around you.
"The company I keep is of my choosing, and it has been most delightful thus far," you countered, your tone firm yet polite, hoping to convey your lack of interest in prolonging this interaction.
Undeterred, the stranger continued, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Alan, and I must say, your beauty has captivated my every sense."
You nodded in acknowledgment. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Alan. I am Y/N."
He extended a gloved hand, adorned with rings that caught the light. "Might I have the honor of this dance, dear Lady? The night is young, and a moment with you is a treasure."
Politely declining, you explained, "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I must return to the festivities."
Undeterred, he insisted, "Just one dance, my lady. I promise it will be a memory to cherish."
Reluctantly, you acquiesced, allowing yourself to be led back onto the dance floor. As the music enveloped you, the stranger's conversation veered toward increasingly personal topics. His compliments escalated, each word designed to captivate and charm. Sir Alan skillfully prolonged the conversation, feeling uncomfortable, you attempted to gracefully disengage, only to find yourself guided toward the secluded gardens, away from prying eyes.
Amidst the moonlit flora, the stranger's intentions became clearer. "Lady Y/N, a night like this deserves to be savored in private. Away from the prying eyes of the crowd, don't you think?"
Your stomach twisted with unease as you struggled to maintain composure. "I am grateful for your company, sir, but I must return to my friends."
A grin adorned his face, concealing a more sinister motive. "Why hasten, my lady? The night is yet youthful, and so are we. Let us venture further into the gardens together, free from the shackles of society."
A sense of alarm tingled at the edges of your consciousness. Politely but firmly, you asserted, "I appreciate your company, but I must insist on returning to the ballroom. My absence may arouse suspicion, and I would not wish to cause any distress."
Undeterred, the stranger persisted, "Why subject yourself to the mundane when an adventure beckons? A stroll amidst the moonlit gardens, a dance beneath the stars—does that not sound infinitely more alluring?"
Struggling against the mounting unease, you firmly declared, "I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. My place is with my companions."
His demeanor shifted, revealing a more assertive side. "My lady, do not be hasty in dismissing the potential for a night of unparalleled delight. Embrace the possibilities, for in the gardens, secrets unfold, and desires are realized."
A chill ran down your spine as his words hung in the air. Determined to extricate yourself from this unsettling encounter, you mustered the strength to firmly assert, "I thank you for the dance, Sir, but I must return to the ballroom."
As you turned to leave, the stranger's grip tightened, his tone taking on a darker hue. "Lady Y/N, the night is full of mysteries, and in the gardens, secrets are shared. Would you not yearn for a tale untold, a moment unrestrained?"
Alarmed, you managed to free yourself from his grasp, hastily retreating back to the ballroom. The warmth and familiarity of the dance floor welcomed you, a stark contrast to the disconcerting encounter in the moonlit gardens.
Unbeknownst to you, the night held further surprises, and the echoes of that encounter lingered, casting a shadow over the revelry. Stepping back into the ballroom, the familiar countenances of Jin, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Namjoon, and Yoongi greeted you. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to concern, noting your brief absence.
Namjoon, ever astute, observed your return. "Lady Y/N, you have returned! How fared your brief respite?"
Smiling, you replied, "It was an intriguing interlude, to say the least. Sir Alan proves to be quite the charismatic conversationalist."
Jin raised an eyebrow, his noble bearing intact. "Sir Alan, you say? I trust his charm did not overstep its bounds."
You assured them, "Nothing of the sort, Jin. Merely persistent, but I managed to gracefully extricate myself.”
The assembly of gentlemen before you shared a look amongst themselves, a silent pact forming to address any untoward advances. "He has not brought harm to you in any way, has he?" the collective concern in their voices was palpable.
You shook your head, mustering a small smile. “Thankfully, no. I am unharmed.”
Hoseok interjected, seeking to dispel any lingering unease within you. “Well, it gladdens me to hear of your well-being. Now, might we turn our attention to Jungkook's lamentable inability to engage in the simplest of social exchanges without resorting to awkwardness?""
Jungkook, mortified at being the subject of jest, protested in a tone laden with embarrassment. "Must you fault me for my reticence in the company of others beyond our intimate circle?" His words, though tinged with self-deprecation, only served to endear him further to the group, inciting a chorus of snickers and teasing smiles.
As the night waned, the gentlemen gathered around, exchanging words of encouragement, reminiscing about childhood memories, and relishing each other’s company.
As the final notes of the music wafted through the air and the ballroom began to empty, you found yourself waiting outside the grand entrance staircase alone, while Namjoon and Jin went to fetch the quadravicar, Jungkook and Taehyung piled plates with leftovers despite Jin’s reprimands, and Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok excused themselves to the bathroom.
It was then, amidst the solitude, that you felt a gentle tap, a discreet summons that turned you to face the ever-persistent Sir Alan. His approach was measured, his gaze alight with an unmistakable admiration.
"Lady Y/N, the evening's end could not pass without me bestowing upon you the accolades your magnificent aura so rightly deserves. Might I have the honor of accompanying you to your quadravicar?" he proposed, his bow imbued with a blend of earnestness and anticipation.
While gratitude tinged your response, caution tempered your words. "Your offer is received with gratitude, Sir Alan, however, my companions have already made provisions for my departure."
His gaze briefly flitted about, seeking, perhaps, confirmation of your words before returning to meet your own. "But as I observe, your companions seem momentarily absent. Pray, allow me the privilege of extending my company a while longer.”
His sudden grasp upon your wrist, though not forceful, was unexpected, prompting a startled response from you. "Sir Alan—"
Before you could articulate your refusal, a familiar presence interposed itself between you and potential impropriety. "And to what destination do you presume to escort my lady?" Hoseok's voice, firm and unyielding, forced Sir Alan's hand to release its hold.
Taken aback, Sir Alan stammered, his composure momentarily faltering in the face of Hoseok's authoritative stance. "O-Oh! Lord Hoseok, I—"
Yet, it was not Hoseok alone who stood in defense; Yoongi and Jimin too had materialized, forming a united front. Jimin, his tone laden with an earnest gravity, pressed for an answer. "We would be most obliged if you would enlighten us, Sir Alan. Your persistence is unwelcome, and it is evident that she has declined your company."
Sir Alan, sensing the gravity of the situation and the unyielded gaze of your companions, chose his words with a care previously unexercised. "Gentlemen, my intentions were naught but to offer the lady a courteous companionship in the absence of her party.”
Hoseok, unwavering, retorted, "Courtesy does not involve disregarding a lady's wishes. Lady Y/N has made her intentions clear, and your company is not desired. Now, I suggest you depart before matters escalate."
Sir Alan chuckles, trying to defend himself. “It seems, however, that my actions were misjudged, and for that, I tender my sincerest apologies."
It was then, amidst the burgeoning tension, that Namjoon and Jin returned, their timely arrival adding to the formidable presence of your companions. With the quadravicar ready and your friends united in their defense, Sir Alan's intentions, however benign he claimed, were deemed unsuitable.
Namjoon, with a diplomatic grace, addressed Sir Alan, "Your intentions, while perhaps noble in your eyes, have trespassed the boundaries of decorum. We thank you for your interest, but Lady Y/N is well accounted for."
Sir Alan, sensing the seriousness of the situation, released a conciliatory sigh. "Apologies, Lady Y/N, Lords Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon. I meant no harm. If my presence is unwanted, I shall take my leave." With that, he withdrew, leaving you in the comforting circle of your friends.
The tension that had momentarily clouded the evening dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, leaving behind a sense of unity and protectiveness among you and your companions. Hoseok, breaking the silence, offered a light-hearted quip to restore the evening's jovial atmosphere. "Well, I dare say we've navigated that encounter with the poise of seasoned diplomats. Shall we consider it an adventure to regale in future gatherings?"
Laughter, light and unburdened, filled the air, reaffirming the bonds that tethered your spirits together. Jimin, with a smirk playing on his lips, added, "Indeed, it appears our little assembly can handle more than just casual soirees and diplomatic parleys. We're quite the formidable cohort when the occasion demands."
With spirits buoyed and hearts alight, you made your passage to the quadravicar. The episode with Sir Alan had not tainted the evening's festivity; rather, it had underscored the profound depth of allegiance and affection that defined your relationship with your companions.
Jungkook and Taehyung, the mischievous duo, were the last to clamber into the quadravicar, burdened with an assortment of laden boxes. All eyes turned to them, bemused by their conspicuous cargo.
Jin's gaze flickered between the boxes and the pair before he seized their ears with a swift pinch. "You scoundrels! Did I not explicitly instruct you against overindulgence? Have you no shame?"
The two offenders, wearing expressions of mock innocence, pout in response to Jin's reproach. "But Jin, the offerings were too delectable to resist! Surely even you would have succumbed to temptation!"
"And need I remind you, it was Taehyung's idea in the first place!" Jungkook interjected, attempting to wriggle free from Jin's grasp.
"Outrageous! Yes, I proposed the notion, but didn't you conveniently omitted the fact that you were the one weary of our customary fare back home?" Taehyung defended himself, a hint of indignation in his tone.
"Excuse me?!" Jin exclaimed, aghast. "Ingrates, the pair of you!"
As the quadravicar ambled away from the venue, the celestial canopy above seemed to sparkle with added brilliance, mirroring the mirth that filled the quadravicar as it resounded with laughter and good-natured banter.
"Say, Y/N," Jimin's voice breaks through the jovial atmosphere, his gaze warm and imploring, “would you mind if we all spent the night at your abode? It's been an age since we had a slumber party like in our youth," Jimin chimed in, his eyes sparkling with youthful enthusiasm.
"Of course, you are all welcome under my roof," you replied warmly.
And so, as the quadravicar grinds to a halt outside your humble abode, the final act of the evening unfolds. Stepping out into the crisp night air, the echoes of laughter linger like a sweet refrain, a testament to the enduring bonds that unite your circle of friends.
Entering your quaint abode, the warmth enveloped you like a comforting embrace. You busied yourself in the kitchen, preparing for the morning's repast, ensuring that all would be ready when dawn broke.
Meanwhile, your companions, weary from the night's revelry, began their preparations for slumber. Each found a spot to lay their heads, the weariness of the day gradually giving way to the embrace of sleep. Blankets are unfurled, pillows fluffed, and whispered conversations drift lazily through the air.
As the hour grows late and the weariness of the duskar begins to take its toll, your companions one by one succumb to the embrace of sleep. Soon, the room is filled with the soft symphony of gentle snores, a harmonious testament to the peace that reigns within.
Yet, as the night wears on and the world outside slumbers, you find yourself restless, your mind abuzz with thoughts of the duskar's events. Unable to quiet your thoughts, you rise from your bed and slip silently into the kitchen, intent on preparing a pot of tea to greet the dawn.
The soft clink of china and the faint rustle of linens filled the quietude as you busied yourself in the kitchen, ensuring that everything would be in order for the forthcoming day. Lost in thought, you scarcely noticed the passage of time until a sudden rap at the front door shattered the stillness, jolting you from your reverie.
With a furrowed brow, you approached the door, curiosity mingling with a hint of trepidation as you peered through the peephole, then cautiously opening your door ajar. "Who goes there?" you called out, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night.
"Miss Y/N..." comes a timid yet recognizable voice, causing you to lower your gaze, finally laying eyes on the familiar figure standing outside your threshold.
Your eyes widen in recognition as you realize it's the young Thalia from the outskirts of Valoris. "Thalia! Heavens, what brings you here at such a late hour?"
"More importantly, how did you come here unaccompanied?" you query with urgency.
"I cannot rightly say, Miss. It's as though my feet had a will of their own, leading me to your abode," Thalia responds, her tearful gaze meeting yours, giving you pause as you sense all is not well.
You swing the door open wider, dropping to one knee to meet her eye level. "What’s the matter, little one?"
"It's my mother and father— they're in trouble," Thalia blurts out between hiccups.
Your brows furrow with concern and confusion. "Explain, Thalia. What do you mean they’re in trouble?”
The little girl breaks into fresh tears. “It's all my doing-!”
Thalia recounts the events leading to her arrival at your doorstep. She had been playing near the glade where you performed your magic of the wildflowers, when she caught sight of the approaching guards. Instinctively, she hid, but it seemed her presence had already drawn their attention to the area.
Your face softened into one of sadness and concern for Thalia; you knew precisely why those scavenger guards were now scouring the vicinity. The wildflowers in bloom, coaxed forth by your supernatural abilities, undoubtedly aroused deep suspicion—wildflowers in the waning days of autumn were anything but ordinary... Unless magic was at play.
Indeed, those scavenger guards weren't after this small family; they were after you, the witch, although none of them knew it. In all honesty, it wasn't Thalia's fault; the blame lay squarely with you.
You had brought this calamity upon them, and now you had to make it right. It was unjust that they should suffer for your actions. Foolish of you; you should have known that wildflowers at this time of year would raise eyebrows. Yet, what gnawed at your mind was the presence of scavenger guards in that area to begin with. The royal family typically cared little for the outlying dwellings of the kingdom.
But regardless, that was immaterial now. What mattered was helping Thalia and her parents, whatever the cost. You met Thalia's gaze once more. "It’s okay Thalia. Come, we must hasten to your parents."
Together, you and Thalia set forth into the night, the weight of responsibility heavy upon your shoulders.
As you traverse the moonlit streets, Thalia explains, "It was as if they sensed something amiss," her voice quivering with anxiety. "They spoke of reporting their findings to higher authorities, and I knew then that trouble loomed."
Your heart sinks at her words. You had hoped to keep your abilities concealed, to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the authorities. Yet, here you are, thrust into a situation where secrecy is no longer an option.
As you near the outskirts of Valoris, a sense of foreboding settles over you. The air is thick with tension, and the distant sounds of commotion send a shiver down your spine. Thalia clutches your hand tightly, her eyes wide with fear. Finally, you reach the outskirts, where Thalia's family resides in a modest cottage nestled amidst the trees.
"We must tread carefully," you murmur, casting a wary glance around.
Together, you both drew closer to the source of the disturbance. The scene that greets you is one of chaos and despair. Thalia's parents stand outside their home, surrounded by a group of menacing guards clad in scavenger attire. Their expressions are grim, and you can sense the fear radiating from them.
"We are not the ones you seek, and there are no wielders of magic among us!" Jakub protests, shielding his wife with his own frame. Esmae peers cautiously from behind Jakub, her eyes darting warily over the group of scavengers.
"Then, mayhaps a demonstration would be in order to test the veracity of your claim?" a scavenger guard sneers, a sinister grin stretching across his face. He gestures to one of his comrades, who produces a gleaming metal implement, sharpened to a deadly point.
The guard brandishes the weapon, its surface glinting ominously. "This, my friends, is pure iron. For ages, we've used such tools to unearth those who would dare to consort with the dark arts," he declares, advancing menacingly towards the couple. "And if your words hold true, you'd have no objections to a simple test with the lady beside you, hmm?"
Without hesitation, you step forward, Thalia at your side. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" you demand, your voice a steady beacon amidst the swirling tempest within.
The leader of the guards fixes you with a steely gaze. "By orders of the Crown, we're here to investigate reports of illicit sorcery in this vicinity," he explains, his tone brooking no dissent.
You swallow hard, the weight of their accusation heavy upon you. Yet, you refuse to be cowed by fear. "And what evidence have you to support such allegations?" you challenge, your voice ringing with defiance.
"We've received credible witness of a sorcery skulking about these parts," he retorts. "Wildflowers blooming in the dead of winter near your dwelling—a curious coincidence, don't you think?"
You scoff at the notion. "The presence of wildflowers proves nothing. How does it incriminate any of us?"
"Are you jesting, miss?" He lets out a derisive chuckle. "Wildflowers during the inaugurate of winter—a clear sign of unnatural meddling."
You glare back, your resolve unyielding. "Your ignorance is matched only by your arrogance."
His gaze shifts to Thalia, who trembles behind you. "I remember you, child," he says, his eyes boring into hers.
You instinctively draw Thalia closer, shielding her from his invasive scrutiny. "Leave her be. She's but a child, innocent in all this."
The situation echoes with eerie familiarity, a haunting reminder of events long past. Memories of a darker time flood your mind, your fists clenching involuntarily at your sides. Yet, before the past can fully consume you, a sudden movement jolts you back to the present.
The scavenger guards seize Thalia, wrenching her from your protective embrace. Her cry of protest pierces the air, a stark reminder of the innocence threatened by their accusations. "No—!"
"This child, seen near the enchanted glade, her presence far too convenient. It lends credence to the suspicion that she and the rest of you harbor secrets—perhaps even the girl herself," the leader asserts, his grip on Thalia tightening as he brandishes the iron implement.
As Thalia struggles against his grasp, her tearful pleas tug at your heartstrings. "Mama, Papa—!"
The guards' harsh grip restrains both Jakub and Esmae, their faces etched with a mixture of fear and desperation. You too find yourself held back, unnoticed amidst the chaos unfolding before you. Anguish wells within you as Thalia's cries echo in the air, the weight of injustice bearing down upon you like a suffocating shroud.
In the face of such injustice, you refuse to remain passive. With a surge of determination, you confront the leader of the guards, your voice ringing with conviction. "Release her this instant. You have no right to subject her to such cruelty!”
The leader meets your gaze, his expression unyielding. "She is a potential threat, as are all who consort with forbidden arts. Our duty is to safeguard the realm from such dangers."
You shake your head, incredulous at his callous disregard for innocence. "You mistake innocence for guilt, blinded by your own paranoia. That girl is no sorceress, nor are any of us."
The guard's grip tightens on Thalia's arm, a grim determination etched upon his features. “We shall see.” Witnessing Thalia’s distress, a surge of emotion welled within you, a turbulent mix of fear and sorrow igniting flashes behind your eyes.
“Mother!” you wail, your eyes welling up with tears as you approach, desperate to render aid, though the gravity of the situation seems beyond your young capabilities.
With a weakening hand, she touched your cheek. “You are strong, my love. The power within you, it will guide you. Embrace it, and remember, I will always be a part of you.” Her voice wavered but held an underlying strength.
"No—!" you cry out, a surge of strength welling up within you. With a sudden burst of power, a telekinetic wave emanates from you, propelling the men restraining you, Jakub and Esmae backward, caught off guard by your unexpected display of magic.
Turning your attention to the man still clutching Thalia, you demand, "Release the girl, and perhaps I shall spare you."
Though a flicker of fear dances in his eyes, the man's pride wins out as he presses the sharp iron weapon against Thalia's delicate neck, causing you to falter momentarily. "Take another step, and this child's life is forfeit…”
Your jaw tightens as you lock gazes with him, taking in the tears glistening in Thalia's eyes. "You would spill innocent blood for what? Recognition? Power?"
"Think yourself righteous, do you?" You challenged, goading him further. His response was swift and violent, the blade biting into Thalia's flesh, drawing forth a crimson stain.
With a pained whimper, Thalia's cry pierces the air, prompting you to act swiftly. "I said, release her!" In a moment of desperation, another telekinetic force, resembling a transparent blade, hurtles toward the man, slicing through flesh and bone with a sickening squelch. Blood sprays in a gruesome arc as his head is violently wrenched from his shoulders.
The scene freezes in horror as the man's severed head tumbles to the ground, blood gushing from the stump of his neck. His lifeless body collapses in a heap, limbs twitching involuntarily. Thalia, freed from his grasp, rushes into her parents' embrace with a relieved cry, their arms wrapping around her protectively amidst the carnage.
Yet, as the realization of your actions sinks in, a sense of dread washes over you. You have taken a life—a man with ties to the royal family. Panic grips you as you comprehend the magnitude of your deed; you are now a fugitive, hunted by those in power.
A gentle hand upon your shoulder shattered the silence, drawing you from your reverie. "You must flee," Jakub's voice, steady and resolute, cut through the turmoil of your thoughts.
"J-Jakub—" Your words stumbled forth, eyes wide with uncertainty. "This is my doing, my fault."
With a reassuring touch, Jakub met your gaze. "No, child, you acted to protect us, to shield us from harm," he reassured you, though his expression betrayed a deeper concern. "Yet now, you are imperiled. Once these men awaken, they will summon the might of the royal court to hunt you down."
"Jakub speaks the truth," Esmae interjected, her voice tinged with urgency. "As a witch revealed, you are no longer safe within these walls. You must flee, and swiftly."
"But what of you?" Worry creased your brow as you considered their fate.
"Fret not for us," Esmae replied, her tone firm yet gentle. "We possess little to bind us here, and Jakub has devised a plan for just such an eventuality. It is time for you to enact your own escape, to leave Pentaraegis behind."
You nod, the urgency of the situation dawning upon you. "I have the map," you confirm, prompting Esmae to continue. "Then make haste. The dawn approaches, and time grows short."
As you prepare to depart, a pang of sorrow grips your heart, and you turn to embrace Jakub, Esmae, and Thalia. "I am grateful, and deeply sorry," you murmur.
Jakub offered a reassuring smile. "There is no need for apologies, child. It is time you prioritized your own well-being."
"How will I find you?” you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.
"If the fates be kind," Esmae replies with a chuckle, "our paths shall cross once more."
With a final embrace, you bid them farewell, tears glistening in your eyes as you turn and hasten back to the capital village.
Now returned to the capital village, you dash through its narrow streets with head bowed, the first light of dawn peeking over the horizon, a reminder that time is now of the essence. Navigating with practiced ease, you finally reach your modest home, your pulse racing with anticipation and anxiety.
Upon entering, the door slams shut behind you with an unintended force, startling your seven companions from their slumber. Yet, you pay it no heed, urgency propelling you to your chamber to pack essentials for your impending flight from the kingdom walls, now that the royal court will soon be in pursuit.
Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin, sprawled out on the floor under a blanket before the fireplace, are the first to awaken, their expressions a mix of surprise and confusion at the abrupt noise. Taehyung and Jimin, nestled on the living room couch, soon follow suit, while Jungkook and Yoongi, curled up in adjacent chairs, groggily come to attention.
"What in blazes..." Jungkook mutters, his voice thick with sleep.
Taehyung stretches with a groan and a yawn. "Goodness, what hour is it?"
"An early one, evidently," Jimin mumbles, still half-asleep as the group begins to stir.
After gathering meager provisions, you hasten to the kitchen, your mind consumed with urgency, disregarding your companions' awakening.
Jungkook's weary eyes catch your passage from room to kitchen. "Y/N, what a sight to behold, you being the first to rise."
Jin perks up. "What's this? Y/N up before us? Could it be you're preparing breakfast, dear Y/N?" He jests, still half-asleep.
Your friends' banter falls on deaf ears as you continue your frenzied movements around the kitchen. However, their curiosity is piqued when you suddenly retrieve something from beneath the couch—a worn map you had secreted away days earlier, signaling to them that something is amiss.
"Hey, what's the rush?" Jin questions, rising from his seat as you dart past him.
"And at such an ungodly hour," Yoongi grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
You pay their inquiries no heed, unfurling the map upon the table with trembling hands, your focus unwavering, you mutter to yourself, searching for your intended destination. Jin and Jungkook approach, Jin seizing your shoulders.
"Y/N, talk to us," Jin implores, his grip gentle yet firm. "What's going on?"
Your gaze meets Jin's, momentarily clouded with distraction before refocusing. "I must depart the kingdom at once."
Jin's hands fell from your shoulders like startled birds taking flight, the air thick with tension as you made your startling revelation. Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung sprang up from their seats, while Yoongi's eyes snapped open, his expression a blend of disbelief and concern.
"I...I'm sorry," you stumbled over the words, the weight of their collective gaze pressing down on you. "But it's imperative."
Hoseok advanced, his voice tinged with incredulity and urgency. "This is abrupt, Y/N. Just days ago, you spoke of leaving, but now, you're insisting on immediate departure? What on earth is happening?"
Regret tugged at your conscience as you attempted to dismiss Hoseok's query, reaching to roll up the map. But before you could stow it away, a firm grip seized your wrist, arresting your movements. Jungkook's voice sliced through the air, unexpectedly grave. "No, you cannot simply brush us aside, Y/N. We are your closest confidants, and your actions are deeply concerning. Please, elucidate."
With a hesitant glance at Jungkook's earnest countenance, you relented, turning back to face your companions. "I have committed...an unspeakable act. The royal court will pursue me for it, and I cannot afford to linger."
Jin's voice was measured as he pressed for clarity. "What have you done?"
A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard. "I… I intervened in a skirmish involving the small family in Valoris and scavengers' guards. They were ambushed, and I had to step in."
Namjoon's voice, steady yet tinged with worry, drew closer as he took a step forward. "And how did you intervene?"
"It was a dire moment," you confessed, a shiver rippling down your spine. "A man threatened the life of the young girl, and I had no choice but to stop him... permanently."
A heavy silence hung in the air as you continued, the gravity of your admission sinking in. "I took a life... And now, I must flee."
With a determined tug and eyes brimming with unshed tears, you freed your wrist from Jungkook's grasp, packing away the map. Jimin's voice pierced the silence, his concern palpable in his tone. "But where will you go?"
A bittersweet smile played at the corners of your lips as you met Jimin's gaze. "I cannot disclose it. I fear if I do, you will follow, and I cannot bear to see you imperiled on my behalf. Please, trust me when I say it is for the best."
"Best for whom, precisely?" Jungkook's voice cut through, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"For all of you!" you exclaimed, your voice quivering with emotion. "If you accompany me, you will be endangered as well."
Jin exhaled heavily, disbelief etched on his features. "Surely there must be another solution, Y/N. We cannot fathom your departure."
Jimin's frustration bubbled over, his voice rising slightly. "Is it truly beyond comprehension that we harbor deep care for you? We have stood by your side for years, and now, you expect us to let you face this alone?"
Meeting his gaze, you feel the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I can't involve any of you."
"But we're already involved," Namjoon interjects, his voice calm but resolute. "We refuse to let you face it unaccompanied."
"But this is different," you argue, your voice pleading. "I can't risk your safety and positions for my sake."
"Damn it Y/N, why must you be so obstinate?" Taehyung burst forth, his frustration evident. "You incessantly speak of our standings within the royal court. Have you not comprehended a word Jimin has uttered? You are cherished amongst us, and we would go to great lengths for you. Why must you continually bring up such arguments? It vexes me beyond measure."
"Because-! Look at me, look at all of you—" Your voice wavers as you pause, sweeping your gaze across your seven companions. "It's not just your positions I'm concerned about, but your lives. I am but a common lady, and all of you... you all have futures, bright and promising, with or without me."
Hoseok's typically sunny demeanor darkens, a glint of frustration in his eyes. "Mind your words, Y/N."
You whirl toward him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "Am I mistaken?! You have each other! I cannot impose upon you to forsake such opulence and happiness because of my errors. It would be unjust."
"No, what's unfair is you leaving!" Yoongi's voice slices through the tension, catching you off guard.
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I'm trying to protect you!"
"You're tearing us apart!" Hoseok's voice rings out, laden with anguish.
"Consider your actions, Y/N," Taehyung advances towards you, his voice tinged with urgency.
"No— you must all think. Reason with yourselves, what do you believe the royal court will decree when they discover their most esteemed and valiant soldiers, their staunch defenders, have turned their backs on them for the sake of a mere commoner like myself—especially one guilty of such a grievous offense! Let me tell you, they shall come for you all, branding you criminals for aiding me or simply for being my friends! Thus, I am performing a service by departing and severing all ties with you!"
"I can't bear to watch you make such a reckless decision!" Taehyung’s voice cracked with emotion.
"You are being selfish, Y/N!" Jungkook's words pierce through the chaos.
"Selfish? Look at yourselves! You are blinded by your loyalty!" you retort, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am doing what is best for all of us!"
Namjoon steps forward, his expression a mixture of determination and concern. "But what about what we want? We want you safe, Y/N. We want you here with us."
"And I want the same for you!" you cried out, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. "But I can't risk your lives for mine. I will not."
"But we're not cowards, Y/N!" Jungkook's voice resonated with indignation. "We've fought battles together, faced adversity. Do you truly think we'd abandon you now?"
"You misunderstand," you whispered, anguish lacing your words. "This isn't cowardice, it's prudence. I cannot drag you into this turmoil."
"Turmoil or not, we stand with you," Jin asserts, his voice unwavering.
"But at what cost?" you whispered, tears now freely streaming down your cheeks. "I can't bear to see you suffer for my mistakes."
"Your mistakes are our mistakes," Hoseok interjects, his voice tinged with sorrow. "We share in your burdens, Y/N. That is what friendship entails."
You shook your head, their loyalty almost unbearable. "But you have futures, dreams. I can't be the anchor that weighs you down."
"Anchor or not, we refuse to let you drown," Namjoon stated firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're a part of us, Y/N. We won't abandon you."
"Yet by staying, you risk everything," you argued, desperation seeping into your voice. "Your reputations, your safety—all for a mere commoner like me."
"We're not swayed by titles or status," Hoseok declared, determination echoing in his voice. "We stand by those we love, societal constraints be damned."
Taehyung scoffed, frustration evident. "You spoke as though we're pawns in your game. But we're comrades, bound by loyalty and friendship."
"And yet, you would cast us aside like worn-out garments," Jin added, his voice tinged with hurt.
A flicker of anguish danced in your eyes as you surveyed your friends, the weight of your decision heavy upon your shoulders. "I'm not casting you aside. I'm trying to protect you."
"By abandoning us?!" Jimin's voice cracked, pleading for understanding.
"By preventing you from sharing my fate," you countered, your voice trembling with emotion.
"But we are willing to face whatever comes our way," Jin interjected.
"And what about us?" Taehyung's voice wavered, searching for solace.
"You'll continue without me," you whispered, resignation heavy in your words.
"Without our friend? Our confidante?" Yoongi's voice was disbelieving.
"You're more than a friend," Taehyung's gazes at you. "You're family."
In the midst of the turmoil, Jimin clenches his fists at his sides, anguish wrapped in his cry. "I can't lose you, Y/N!"
Frozen, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, his sob broke through your defenses. In that instant, arguments melted away, replaced by the ache of love and loss.
Without a word, Jimin rushed forward, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His tears mingled with yours, a silent testament to the depth of your bond. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty, you found solace in the arms of your dearest friend.
Silence descended, heavy with tension, as Jin stepped forward, joining the embrace. "We may not understand your reasons," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion, "but we'll stand by you, no matter what."
"And family stands together, no matter the odds," Hoseok added, his tone resolute.
"But what if standing together only leads to ruin?" you countered, your voice choked with emotion.
"Then we shall face that ruin together," Namjoon affirms.
A/N: heyy <3333, you've finally reached the end. i apologize for its unnecessary length. this part aimed to spotlight the friendship between Y/N (you, the reader) and the boys, from childhood (as in the intro) to adulthood. and wanted to included minor intimate scenes to lay the groundwork for the slow-burn trope and scenes leading up to Y/N's departure from the kingdom. i hope you enjoyed it and can follow the plot thus far. have a good night/day wherever you are! <3333
part 2 will be coming soon!!
drabble masterpost | masterlist | character boards | prologue | part 1 | part 2 [finale] | alternate ending
#bts angst#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts smut#bts ot7#bts ot7 x reader#ot7 bts x reader#ot7 x reader#bts poly#bts polyamory#bts poly x reader#bts fluff#bts x you#park jimin#jimin x reader#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#taehyung x reader#jhope#jhope x reader#hoseok x reader#seokjin x reader#jung hoseok#kim seokjin#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#min yoongi#suga#suga x reader
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Perfect Presence — Tenth Doctor
Summary: The Doctor is set on finding you the perfect Christmas present and he traverses time and space to do so, though maybe he really didn’t need to try so hard.
Word Count: 744
Warnings: None, just fluff, so much fluff
With all the swirling depths of time and space at his fingertips, the TARDIS hums with anticipation as the Doctor embarks on a quest to find the perfect Christmas present for you. The familiar wheezing sound echoes through the air, signaling the beginning of his search. He promised himself that he will not rest in his pursuit of a gift that will capture your heart, no matter how many tries it takes him to find just the right gift.
The Doctor's eyes sparkle with determination as he sets out, arriving at one of his favorite planets, known for their eclectic collections of rare and valuable objects. He navigates through the chaotic energy of the bustling alien market, many a trinket catching his eye, but none quite right. Vibrant colors and exotic scents surround him as vendors peddle unique baubles and artifacts from distant galaxies. His sonic buzzes, matching the buzz of his own anticipation, as he scans over the myriad of possibilities. The Doctor weaves through the crowds, searching for that one elusive item that will bring a smile to your face.
Turning up nothing, he decides to try somewhere and somewhen else. In a leap through time, the TARDIS materializes on the gas lit streets of Victorian London; another of his most favorite spots. He wanders for a while, recalling a shop that may have what he’s looking for. Finding it, one street over from where he could have sworn it to be, he explores the quaint shop filled with curious oddities. There, he discovers a pocket watch adorned with intricate engravings, a piece of history that might resonate with you and add a touch of timeless elegance to your collection, but then again, it didn’t quite feel like the right item.
Undeterred by the ticking clock, seeing as he could be back at your door a minute after he left, the Doctor propelled the TARDIS into the far future, landing on a planet where technology reigns supreme. In a bustling metropolis, he finds a device that translates thoughts into art, envisioning it as a canvas for your creativity. The hum of the cityscape fades as the Doctor imagines the endless possibilities of this unique gift, one that mirrors the boundless imagination of the universe. It was wondrous, surely, and he’d no doubt you’d appreciate it, but as cool as it was, it lacked any sort of sentimentality for him. Onto something else then, he thought.
Journeying through medieval castles, futuristic landscapes, and distant planets, the Doctor's quest continued, each locale offering new possibilities for the perfect present, but each coming up short in some way.
Finally, in a moment of quiet reflection amidst the celestial beauty of a distant galaxy, the Doctor discovers a rare, star shaped crystal, half hidden in pink sand. Its ethereal glow reflects the wonder of the cosmos, capturing the essence of his travels with you and the magic of Christmas. With a satisfied grin, the Doctor cradles the crystal in his hands, its radiance a testament to the extraordinary journey he undertook to find the ideal gift for you.
Returning to the TARDIS, the star-shaped crystal held securely, the Doctor anticipates the joy in your eyes as you unwrap this extraordinary present he’d chosen with care and love. The TARDIS dematerializes, leaving behind a trail of stardust as it hurtles back through space and time, all the way back to you on Christmas morning.
You’re barely awake when he knocks on your door, not having checked the time, as he was too excited to bestow upon you his perfect gift. His big, goofy grin filled your tired vision as you greeted him at the door.
"Merry Christmas," he beams, pausing just long enough to reach into his coat and pull out the crystal. "This is for you, a little piece of the universe I thought you might like."
You watched the crystal sparkle in the morning light, reflecting the pure joy in his eyes. As you take the gift, he leans against the doorframe, eager to share the tale of his journey in finding it.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. But Doctor,” you began, and in that fraction of a second his smile faltered, briefly thinking that it had been the wrong gift after all. “All I really needed this Christmas was to spend it with you.” His smile returned and you invited him inside. “Now tell me how you went about finding this.”
Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @nclgsticore, @ayanthegreat28, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @bitchr-mkay, @sparrowspixie
Tenth Doctor: @dancingwith-sunflowers, @riveranddoctorsong123, @randomfandomimagine, @danzalladaggers, @keepfloatingaway, @casserole-from-dads-asserole, @little-bean99, @littlefoxgirl-13, @becomingthedreamversionofme, @storytelling-timelord, @chaos-and-food, @callsigncrash, @mxacegrey, @sammus-white, @lokabrenna0801, @m-rae23, @geekyandgay98, @sassykittenjellyfish, @cardinalalignedtiefling, @magpie6322, @aceofspades0064, @thekirbishow, @scriptershifter, @kirimilliagnhalden
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distant lands and dungeon masters | eddie munson x fem!reader
you don’t know anything about that game your boyfriend loves to play, but that doesn’t mean you can’t indulge in it with him… even if it does feel a bit ridiculous.
words: 2k
c.w. fem!reader, p in v sex, roleplaying (ig? once the goofy shit’s over, it kinda just stops yk + the costume is literally just a slutty medieval dress thing that we’re gonna pretend associates with elf bc i suck with that kind of detail. k? k.), oral (fem receiving), fingering
masterlist
tina gets full credit for the “i love you” during the orgasm thing. her mind is literally gold and i wanna give her the biggest smooch all the time for it. oh! also the bodice of the dress is one that rests under the boobs yk (and this is important briefly lol). and also i suck at descriptions and titles and intros to fics lol so i apologize
Eddie’s laugh rang through the trailer.
The sight of his girlfriend sitting atop the kitchen counter, leaning back on your hands, and wearing a familiar looking, but very little, elf costume is what invoked it.
But it wasn’t real laughter, no. It was a laugh of disbelief. One that came out from a mouth so very dry because of the soft flesh that exposed itself as the short skirt you wore rode up when you crossed your legs in a painfully awkward way you weren’t used to and the way the brown bodice of your dress pushed your cleavage up and on display just for him.
One that came from a guy who believed he had to have been the luckiest fucker in the world to have a girl willing to indulge him like this.
“I happen to be lost, good sir,” your voice came out airy - nervous - and you would’ve felt increasingly ridiculous had your eyes not trailed down to see a very large tent in your boyfriend’s pants. “I’d been hoping to find the help of a skilled… of a, um…”
Eddie’s lips were quick to upturn into a wolfish grin before he whispered into your direction, “Dungeon master.”
You nodded slightly, giving him a shy smile in thanks, and straightened your back as you spoke again, this time more confidently, “I’d been hoping to find the help of a skilled dungeon master.”
Eddie hummed, his grin ever-so-present and his eyes gleaming with unbridled joy. “To?”
It has to be the first time in your entire relationship with him that he’s actually managed to keep his mouth from running - and it just had to be to torture you.
“To… To help me find my way back home.”
“Ah,” Eddie had begun to edge closer to you and your legs uncrossed without you even realizing, thighs now resting flat on the counter and feet swinging nervously. He gestured around dramatically, speaking in a grandiose manner, “You come from a distant land?”
“Yeah! Yes, um,” you cleared your throat, “And I’d… uh, I’d be willing to do-” your legs parted slowly for him “-anything to pay you for…” your brows furrowed slightly before you lit up again, “for safe passage!”
He fits between your legs like a missing puzzle piece and his rings burned against the skin of your thighs when he gripped onto them. “Anything?” his words came out low and playful, his eyes trailing shamelessly over your cleavage and back up to your face to meet your eyes. “I’m afraid a dungeon master such as myself is a little more technical than creative. You’re gonna have to get specific, little elf.”
The statement had laughter bubbling in your throat that you barely managed to restrain in order to get your words out straight, “Not creative? Eddie, you-” The expectant look he gave you made you stop mid sentence, your lips forming a silent ‘Oh’.
“Well,” you resume with a small smile, sliding your hands up his chest and locking them behind his neck, playing with the hairs there, “I’d let you have me any way you wanted.”
“Yeah?” Eddie’s voice came out low and quiet, his hands sliding up your thighs as yours had begun to scratch at the nape of his neck. His eyes drooped at the sensation.
“Mhm,” you continued, “I’d let you put me into whatever position you like ‘nd flip this skirt up,” you brushed soft curls back and brought your lips to his ear, “I’d let you fuck whichever hole you wanted ‘till you stuff me full of your cum,” you laughed softly when he groaned out a loud “Fuck” before you added on cheekily, “Oh, great one.”
The sound that came out of him next was strangled, sounding next to inhuman, as the fingers that trailed all the way up your skirt were met with your bare pussy, lips already wet and clit swollen with want.
His fingers ghosted through your folds before a rumble came from the back of his throat. You pulled back to meet his gaze and was greeted with yet another mischievous smirk. “Why, what a naughty elf!”
His voice sounded ridiculous - three pitches too high with what was his attempt at an overly dramatic British accent - and another spout of laughter bubbled in your throat. This time, your giggles echoed throughout the room - and Eddie’s laughs were quick to join yours.
You managed to laugh until you were both breathless, faces close and lips ghosting over one another. Eddie let out one last chuckle before whispering, still using that stupid accent, “And why, pray tell, do you still laugh, dear lady?” His hands hike up the soft rich green coloured fabric of your skirt for good measure. “I believe I still require payment for my services.”
“You do? Oh, you do, don’t you? Ah!” You yelped, giggles still following every sound that came from your mouth, when he pulled you to the edge of the counter by your hips, urging you to lie down when his hands pushed your legs up by the gripping at the backs of your thighs and leaving you open for him. Heat spread over your cheeks when you felt his breath hit your pussy and you told him breathlessly, yet cheekily all-the-same, “Y’should take your payment then, dungeon master.”
His voice still edged at the line of weird when responded, but your cunt still flooded with slick, “With a pretty pussy like this, how could I resist such an offer?”
It’s messy - like it always is. He eats you out like a man starved - his tongue gliding through your folds and fucking into your fluttering hole until a mixture of his spit and your slick are running down his chin and your ass, dripping onto the edge of the counter and the floor. His lips latched onto your clit and one hand left your thigh to fuck two thick finger into your cunt, forcing a cry from your lips.
His fingers curled up, rubbing incessantly over your g-spot, and your walls clenched around them. His mouth left your pussy and you pushed up onto your elbows to meet his gaze half way. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment when you’re met with the state of his face; his lips swollen shiny with slick and spit, his chin dripping with it too.
A devilish grin never looked more fitting on someone. His dark eyes gleamed dangerously as leant forward, his body casting a shadow over yours, and connected his forehead to yours. His lips met yours in a series of messy kisses, his tongue tasting of you, and you’re both moaning into each other’s mouths; you because of the fingers that continued to work your pussy and him because of the sight you were to behold. He pulled away and laughed lowly, “Beg for it.”
You were just at the brink, he felt it and his thumb hovered over your sensitive clit. You whined softly, “Eddie…”
“C’mon,” he singsonged before he leaned back into you, fingers stopping their movement and his thumb only pressing down onto your clit, tone suddenly turning desperate as he pressed his head to yours again, “c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, pretty girl, just beg for it. Beg for me to make you come and I’ll do it. I swear I’ll have you dripping down my fucking wrist ‘nd then I’ll stuff you full just how you like it.”
“Please, baby.” Tears pricked at your eyes when his fingers began to pump inside of you again, the wet squelch of your pussy taking the thick digits echoing throughout the room, and his thumb began to rub light circles into your clit that had you whimpering. “Please make me come!”
His other hand left your thigh and the sound of his fly being unzipped echoed through the room. The length of his cock slapped against your inner thigh and your eyes shot down to see him, the fat tip red and gleaming with precum.
“Want you to fuck me with that big fucking dick, Eddie,” you spoke through gritted teeth, walls clamping down around his fingers as you got impossibly close, “‘till I can’t fucking see straight.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie didn’t try to hide his awe with a whisper. He stared down at you with eyes full of wonderment and lust, committing the way your eyes fluttered closed and your nose scrunched up to memory for the thousandth time as you came around his fingers with a cry of his name. His voice was loud and needy - his cock jumped against your thigh. “God, I love you.”
He was impossibly quick to rip his fingers from you and guide his cock to your entrance, pushing in with ease. Your walls, swollen and spasming, molded and gripped onto his cock like a lock to a key.
His thrusts started up immediately, desperation guiding him, and the lewd sounds that were both your pussy gushing around him and his balls slapping against your ass echoed through the trailer.
His hands were back on the backs of your thighs once more, but this time pushing your legs further towards your chest. Still, they were separated enough for him to get his fill of your pussy swallowing his cock, watching as you painted a pretty white ring onto the base of him, and your breasts.
“Hold your leg up for me, baby, please.” Without a second thought, you listened. You brought your hand up to grip the thigh that Eddie released. Now, his hand was free to pull at the fabric that covered your breasts. He groaned in satisfaction, eyes widening in appreciation, “There my girls are.”
You whined as the cool air hit your nipples, but the warm hands that palmed at them quickly made up for it. His thrusts picked up just to watch as they moved against the force of them.
Another grin found its way to his lips as his eyes trailed over your body before he had to pull his bottom lip between teeth to stop the sudden ‘Fuck!’ that was bound to escape him after your pussy clamped down around him with a finality he knew all too well.
Eddie looked up to find your eyes, noting with pride at how glassy and hooded they were because of him, and his hand moved down from your breasts to thrum at your clit - your vision blurred, the knot in your belly snapping with a pitiful cry from your lips.
“That’s it,” his voice broke with the second word - the way your pussy spasmed around him and attempted to milk every drop of cum he had yet to give impossible to ignore - and he had to clear his throat, his voice more desperate than ever, “you like coming on my cock, baby? You look so fucking pretty when you-” he moaned “do.”
“Yea-” your breath caught in your throat when he gave a deep thrust. A triumphant laugh escaped his lips but that didn’t stop you, fucked out, words slurred, and all, “Well, I think I look prettier plugged up with your cum, Eddie.”
A breathless laugh came from him, though his face conveyed nothing but him attempting restraint. “Stop, or-”
“Always feel prettier walking around with you dripping down my thighs.”
That did it.
He gave a strangled shout as he thrusted into you for the last time, a dragged out “fuck” leaving his lips in a lazy drawl.
You both moaned as his cum pumped into you; you because of the fullness and warmth that spreads through your core and him because of the walls that clamp down around him to bleed him dry for real this time around. You bit your lip to fight off a small giggle when you felt his balls twitching against your ass.
He let his body fall over yours as you both caught your breaths. With a grumble, you fought off the messy curls that crowded you, a smile rising to your face when you felt Eddie laughing into your neck.
When Eddie finally got his breath back, he lifted his head and offered you a weaker version of that devilish grin with a hum. “We should invest in some elf ears for the next time, cutie.”
#eddie munson x reader#notsfw#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things
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The Women Surrounding a Medieval Queen
This goes through the different types of maids that would serve a Queen, as well as the different duties and function of companions or lady's in waiting
This is something i've had in docs as a personal reference forever. I'm putting it here so I can link it on discord, but please note NONE of this information is my own, it has all been collected from a dozen+ wikipedia pages.
Overview of Maid Types:
Maids traditionally have a fixed position in the hierarchy of the large households, and although there is overlap between definitions (dependent on the size of the household) the positions themselves would typically be rigidly adhered to. The usual classifications of maid in a large household are:
Lady's maid: a senior servant who reported directly to the lady of the house, but ranked beneath the housekeeper, and accompanied her lady on travel. She took care of her mistress's clothes and hair, and sometimes served as confidante.
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House-maid or housemaid: a generic term for maids whose function was chiefly "above stairs", and were usually a little older, and better paid. Where a household included multiple housemaids, the roles were often subdivided as below.
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Head house-maid: the senior house maid, reporting to the housekeeper. (Also called "house parlour maid" in an establishment with only one or two upstairs maids).
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Parlour maid: they cleaned and tidied reception rooms and living areas by morning, and often served refreshments at afternoon tea, and sometimes also dinner. They tidied studies and libraries, and (with footmen) answered bells calling for service.
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Chamber maid: they cleaned and maintained the bedrooms, ensured fires were lit in fireplaces, and supplied hot water.
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Laundry maid: they maintained bedding and towels. They also washed, dried, and ironed clothes for the whole household, including the servants.
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Under house parlour maid: the general deputy to the house parlour maid in a small establishment which had only two upstairs maids.
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Nursery maid: also an "upstairs maid", but one who worked in the children's nursery, maintaining fires, cleanliness, and good order. Reported to the nanny rather than the housekeeper. The nursemaid would often stay with one family for years or as long as their services were needed.
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Kitchen maid: a "below stairs" maid who reported to the cook, and assisted in running the kitchens.
Head kitchen maid: where multiple kitchen maids were employed, the "head kitchen maid" was effectively a deputy to the cook, engaged largely in the plainer and simpler cooking (sometimes cooking the servants' meals).
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Under kitchen maid: where multiple kitchen maids were employed, these were the staff who prepared vegetables, peeled potatoes, and assisted in presentation of finished cooking for serving.
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Scullery maid: the lowest grade of "below stairs" maid, reporting to the cook, the scullery maids were responsible for washing cutlery, crockery, and glassware, and scrubbing kitchen floors, as well as monitoring ovens while kitchen maids ate their own supper.
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Between maid, sometimes known as a "tweeny": roughly equivalent in status to scullery maids, and often paid less, between maids in a large household waited on the senior servants (butler, housekeeper, and cook) and were therefore answerable to all three department heads, often leading to friction in their employment.
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Still room maid: a junior maid employed in the still room; as the work involved the supply of alcohol, cosmetics, medicines, and cooking ingredients across all departments of the house, the still room maids were part of the "between staff", jointly answerable to all three department heads.
A Closer Look
A lady's companion was a woman of genteel birth who lived with a woman of rank or wealth as retainer. Where ladies-in-waiting were usually women from the most privileged backgrounds who took the position for the prestige of associating with royalty, or for the enhanced marriage prospects available to those who spent time at court, a lady's companions usually took up their occupation because they needed to earn a living and have somewhere to live. A companion is not to be confused with lady's maid.
Like a governess, a lady's companion was not regarded as a servant, but neither was she really treated as an equal; however her position in the household of her employer was notably less awkward and solitary than that of a governess. Only women from a class background similar to or only a little below that of their employer would be considered for the position.
The companion's role was to spend her time with her employer, providing company and conversation, to help her to entertain guests and often to accompany her to social events. In return she would be given a room in the family's part of the house, rather than the servants' quarters; all of her meals would be provided, and she would eat with her employer; and she would be paid a small salary, which would be called an "allowance" – never "wages".
She would not be expected to perform any domestic duties which her employer might not carry out herself, in other words little other than giving directions to servants, fancy sewing and pouring tea. Thus the role was not very different from that of an adult relation in respect of the lady of a household, except for the essential subservience resulting from financial dependency.
Lady's companions were employed because upper- and middle-class women spent most of their time at home. A lady's companion might be taken on by an unmarried woman living on her own, by a widow, a married woman who lived with her husband and sons but had no daughters and desired female company, or by an unmarried woman who was living with her father or another male relation but had lost her mother, and was too old to have a governess.
In the last case the companion would also act as a chaperone; at the time, it would not have been socially acceptable for a young lady to receive male visitors without either a male relation or an older lady present (a female servant would not have sufficed).
A lady's maid is a female personal attendant who waits on her female employer. The role of a lady's maid is similar to that of a gentleman's valet.
Traditionally, the lady's maid was not as high-ranking as a lady's companion, who was a retainer rather than a servant, but the rewards included room and board, travel and somewhat improved social status. In the servants' hall, a lady's maid took precedence akin to that of her mistress.
In Britain, a lady's maid would be addressed by her surname by her employer, while she was addressed as "Miss" by junior servants or when visiting another servants' hall.
A lady's maid's specific duties included helping her mistress with her appearance, including make-up, hairdressing, clothing, jewellery, and shoes.
A lady's maid would also remove stains from clothing; sew, mend, and alter garments as needed; bring her mistress breakfast in her room; and draw her mistress's bath. However, she would not be expected to dust and clean every small item, as that would be the job of a housemaid.
A maid, housemaid, or maidservant were once part of an elaborate hierarchy in great houses, where the retinue of servants stretched up to the housekeeper and butler, responsible for female and male employees respectively.
The word "maid" itself means an unmarried young woman or virgin. Domestic workers, particularly those low in the hierarchy, such as maids and footmen, were expected to remain unmarried while in service
"What the fuck is a lady in waiting, then?"
A lady-in-waiting is a female personal assistant at a court, attending on a royal woman or a high-ranking noblewoman. Historically, in Europe, a lady-in-waiting was often a noblewoman but of lower rank
A lady-in-waiting was considered more of a secretary, courtier, or companion to her mistress than a servant.
In some other parts of the world, the lady-in-waiting, often referred to as palace woman, was in practice a servant or a slave rather than a high-ranking woman though they had the same duties. In courts where polygamy was practised, a court lady was formally available to the monarch for sexual services, and she could become his wife, consort, courtesan, or concubine.
The duties of ladies-in-waiting at the Tudor court were to act as companions for the queen, both in public and in private. They had to accompany her wherever she went, to entertain her with music, dance or singing and to dress, bathe and help her use the toilet, since a royal person, by the standards of the day, was not supposed to do anything for herself, but was always to be waited upon in all daily tasks as a sign of their status.
Other functions historically discharged by ladies-in-waiting included proficiency in the etiquette, languages, dances, horse riding, music making, and painting prevalent at court; keeping her mistress abreast of activities and personages at court; care of the rooms and wardrobe of her mistress; secretarial tasks; supervision of servants, budget and purchases; reading correspondence to her mistress and writing on her behalf; and discreetly relaying messages upon command.
Ladies-in-waiting were appointed because of their social status as members of the nobility, on the recommendation of court officials, or other prominent citizens, and because they were expected to be supporters of the royal family due to their own family relationships. When the queen was not a foreigner, her own relations were often appointed as they were presumed to be trustworthy and loyal.
The ladies-in-waiting were headed by the mistress of the robes, followed in rank by the first lady of the bedchamber, who supervised the group of ladies of the bedchamber (typically wives or widows of peers above the rank of earl), in turn followed by the group of women of the bedchamber (usually the daughters of peers) and finally the group of maids of honour.
Ok here is where it gets confusing
First Lady of the Bedchamber is the title of the highest of the ladies of the bedchamber, those holding the official position of personal attendants on a queen or princess. The position is traditionally held by a female member of a noble family.
Lady of the Bedchamber is the title of a lady-in-waiting holding the official position of personal attendant on a British queen regnant or queen consort.
The Maid of the Bedchamber was an office of high status selected from nobility. She had often been a maid of honour before she was promoted, because of birth or royal favor. Her tasks were essentially the same as the tasks of the maids of honour, though they were of higher status.
A maid of honour is a junior attendant of a queen in royal households.
The position was and is junior to the lady-in-waiting.
Traditionally, a queen regnant had eight maids of honour, while a queen consort had four; Queen Anne Boleyn, however, had over 60.
A maid of honour was a maiden, meaning that she had never been married (and therefore was ostensibly a virgin), and was usually young and a member of the nobility.
The mistress of the robes was the senior lady in the household who would, by appointment, attend on the Queen (whether queen regnant or a queen consort). Queens dowager retained their own mistresses of the robes. (In the 18th century Princesses of Wales had one too).
Initially responsible for the queen's clothes and jewellery (as the name implies), the post-holder latterly had the responsibility for arranging the rota of attendance of the ladies-in-waiting on the queen, being in attendance herself on more formal occasions, and undertaking duties at state ceremonies.
During the 17th and 18th centuries, this role often overlapped with or was replaced as first lady of the bedchamber. In modern times, the mistress of the robes was almost always a duchess.
A brief overview of a medieval household and the male/king's equivalents.
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Why I think Sol Invictus might actually be the overarching villain of the next saga (I blame Valhalla for this)
⭐️ Valhalla's release date being two weeks before Christmas and being described by so many as an "early Christmas present." Listen, we have never had anything in God of War released around Christmas before. Ever. And the release dates of these games always tie into mythology in some way: the Greek games releasing in March ties back to Mars, Ragnarok's release date of Wednesday ties back to Wednesday being Odin's day, even Valhalla coming out on a Tuesday is a reference to Tyr.
So, why is Christmas so important than? Well, December 25th, is the date of Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, the Birth of the Unconquerable Sun. It's a commonly held theory that the Early Church appropriated the date to make it easier to integrate Roman converts.
⭐️ Getting back to Christianity... we know it's confirmed in the God of War universe, we know the original ending of the Greek saga was going to be Kratos becoming one of the Three Wisemen. No way in hell are they touching Christianity with a ten foot pole, but that doesn't mean monotheism isn't going to be addressed. Jesus was drawn as Sol Invictus in Ancient Roman art, the depiction of Jesus having a halo came from Helios, Psalm 104:3 describes God as having a chariot...
"Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind." -Psalm 104: 3
Kratos isn't suplexing Jesus, but Sol Invictus could be a villain that is the closest we get to a Fallen Christ figure. All the Jesus parallels are right there:
Jesus refers to himself as "the light of the world" and goes on to say "whoever walks with me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12). Not quite exactly the same thing as Kratos using Helios' head as a flashlight, but Kratos did use him to light his way through the darkness to ultimately beat Zeus. His light also lit up the entire Underworld. Greece cannot survive without him.
In some translations of the Bible, Jesus is described as being raised up from the realm of Hades. Chains of Olympus is heavily, heavily referenced in Valhalla and what is the plot? Raising the sun- Helios- up from the Underworld.
Jesus, particularly his resurrection, was associated with the Phoenix (we'll get into that later).
Later on in the medieval era, Jesus would be described as descending into Hell before rising from the dead, which if the theory that the Roman gods are revived Olympians... where does Kratos take the head of Helios? Tartarus, the equivalent to Hell. In popular culture, Hell is usually always depicted as fire and brimstone, going off of Dante's Inferno and this passage of Revelation describing damned souls being thrown into a lake of fire. What seemingly has rivers of fire? Tartarus in God of War 3.
⭐️ We don't know what Athena's plan is, in fact, we don't know what the hell is going on with Athena at all. All we know is that she changed from wanting to save Olympus to being ready to sacrifice her entire family for the chance to rule on her own in a second. Monotheism. It could be just greed, but that's also so not Athena? I think her being a villain can work: I can believe ascending to a higher plan has changed her and that her priority is her new Ascended Council, but what do they want exactly? They definitely were involved with Odin's mask and the rift, they want Kratos to 'fulfill his destiny,' and then what?
⭐️ We know Rome exists in the God of War universe: the Norns speak Latin. While Athena/Minerva was still an important deity to the Romans (even if Ovid seemed to despise her), a lot of her significance as a god of war/strategy went to Ares/Mars and Bellona. Minerva was primarily a goddess of wisdom and crafts and only became a war goddess later on.
Minerva has an interesting history when it comes to Rome's push towards sun worship. Before Aurelian revived the cult of Sol Invictus, Emperor Elagabalus stripped Jupiter of his position as King of the Gods in order to give the title to the Syrian sun god, Elagabalus (Heliogabalus) instead. The Romans were already pissed, but the cherry on top was Elagabalus moving a statue of Athena/Minerva from the Temple of Vesta to be by Elagabalus' stone in a symbolic marriage that fell through after backlash.
There are theories that Sol Invictus is a combination of Elagabalus and Sol Indiges (the traditional Roman god of the sun), or that Sol Invictus was always Sol Indiges. It's hard to find information because most ancient writers were very, very bias and so much was lost over thousands of years. Anyway, a storyline of Sol Invictus over throwing Jupiter and having a connection to Minerva/Athena has precedence.
⭐️ Finally, there's the most damning piece of evidence... this line right here: "You think I'm afraid of a little fire? Don't threaten me with a good time, Kratos. Maybe I'll be infused with power and achieve my final form."
You know what mythological animal is infused with power and revived by fire? The phoenix. It's canonly seen in God of War 2 and after Kratos stabs himself with the Blade of Olympus in 3, the post credit scene has his blood seeping into a large engraving of a phoenix.
You know what the phoenix is also heavily associated with? The sun. Or, the God of the Sun. In Egyptian mythology, where the Phoenix originates, it's name is the Benu and instead of being an eagle or peacock, it's appearance is that of a heron. It's believed to be the ba (part of the soul) of Ra, but it's also associated with Atum and Osiris. There was significant reverence for the Benu at the Temple of Ra in the Egyptian city of Iunu, its Greek name being Heliopolis, "the City of the Sun." The Greeks took the concept of the Benu and associated their phoenix with Helios such as Herodotus when he first introduced the concept of the phoenix to the Greeks:
"There is another sacred bird, too, whose name is Phoinix (Phoenix). I myself have never seen it, only pictures of it; for the bird seldom comes into Aigyptos (Egypt) : once in five hundred years, as the people of Heliopolis say. It is said that the Phoinix comes when his father dies. If the picture truly shows his size and appearance, his plumage is partly golden and partly red. He is most like an eagle in shape and size. What they say this bird manages to do is incredible to me. Flying from Arabia to the temple of the Helios (the Sun), they say, he conveys his father encased in myrrh and buries him at the temple of Helios [i.e. in the temple of the Egyptian god Ra]. This is how he conveys him: he first molds an egg of myrrh as heavy as he can carry, then tries lifting it, and when he has tried it, he then hollows out the egg and puts his father into it, and plasters over with more myrrh the hollow of the egg into which he has put his father, which is the same in weight with his father lying in it, and he conveys him encased to the temple of the Sun in Aigyptos (Egypt). This is what they say this bird does." - Herodotus, Histories 2. 73 (trans. Godley) (Greek historian C5th B.C.)
Rome also associated itself as being like a Phoenix and had images of them on their coins. The phoenix is immortal, much like how the Romans envisioned their empire, constantly going through a cycle of death and rebirth. Maybe I'm just becoming Charlie Kelly but... idk... I feel like SSM is onto something.
#god of war#god of war ragnarok#god of war spoilers#kratos#helios gow#athena gow#minerva gow#sol invictus#tw sa mention#in sources#tw blo0d#religious mention
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Hello everyone!! You can call me Ghost, I'm a 21 y/o cis woman looking for some more RP partners! I've only been RP-ing for a year, but I've been writing for much longer than that, so I've got ample experience. First off I'd like to list off some important rules:
- you must be 18+, no minors!
- NO realistic FCs! I can only work with picrewed or drawn FCs, or whatever art you find, I'm fine with that too!
- I almost exclusively do fandomless OC x OC! I'm into quite a few anime, so if we find the inspiration, we might do CC x CC as well, but my main focus is the former.
- I don't do doubling! I prefer that me and my partner both find something that we both enjoy without the pressure of "giving back" and all that. If there's an OC you've been wanting to use though, please let me know as I'd love to find a character who'd be fun to write with yours!
- I also have a tendency to make OCs on the fly – I love thinking up fun character dynamics and making OCs that would fit that!
- I can do anything from semi-lit to advanced/novella. I prefer more/longer paragraphs, but sometimes the RP can be more fun when it's shorter. Also, you don't have to match every reply, just give me something I can work with!
- I write 3rd person present or past.
- I'm fairly active, anywhere from a few replies a week to a few replies a day. I'm not asking for daily responses, but at least 2-3 a week would be preferred.
- Please be communicative! I love to chat OOC, talk about the RP and characters, make playlists, boards, headcanons, all that jazz. But we both have lives outside the RP, and the only important thing is that we're always on the same page!
- please work with me when it comes to plotting!
- I only RP on discord, I prefer to make a private server for easier organization and I tend to use Tupperbox but Tupper is not a must!
- I'm open to NSFW but only when it feels right, it's not gonna be the focus of the RP. We can discuss limits and stuff beforehand.
Now onto the RP itself:
- I'll do any combination of pairing - MxM, FxF, MxF, NB, trans, genderfluid characters etc. I prefer queer relationships/characters but MxF is fine too!
- I do both angst and fluff.
- I like a lot of genres and settings! I have some plots in mind but I'd love to hear what you have to offer! The genres include: fantasy (high, medieval, victorian...), victorian settings, modern, sci-fi, supernatural, horror/thriller, futuristic, slice of life, apocalyptic and more. I can do dark/gritty themes as well, I can elaborate in DMs about that.
- I love love doing world building please do world building with me! Also, if there's an existing world (from a movie/show/anime/game etc) that you think would be a fun setting, we can use it as a setting!
I think that's all! Sorry for the long post, but feel free to ask anything I might have missed. Drop a like if interested and I'll DM you to send you my discord handle!
-
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I do have several questions about publishing serious non-fiction with a trade press...
My first question is affiliated, and is about whether you're still in academia or not. If you're not, I'd be interested in hearing how you go about your work - whether you have peer reviewers etc. and whether you know them from uni (either as classmates or professors) or not.
Secondly, how did you approach finding a press? Did you have a draft finished when you secured your deal, and what are the major differences a trade press versus university press request/demand?
I'm sorry for the load of questions by the way, I finished my MA degree in history (medieval) last year, I miss doing the research and writing, and you're really the first person I've seen online who has found a trade press. I considered asking you some of those questions before actually, so I kinda jumped on the chance with... much enthusiasm, lol.
First, affiliation. I ~identify~ as an independent scholar. However, as you know, connections and status mean everything in both academia and the publishing industry (and as an academic writing for a trade press, you have to demand respect from both), so I always make my credentials very clear:
MA in Modern Jewish History from the University of Maryland, thesis defended on first try with no revisions; I also name drop my adviser and certain committee members depending on who I'm talking to.
MLIS from the same institution, focus in Archival Science.
Seven year's employment as an archivist and content creator at the American Jewish Historical Society at the Center for Jewish History
Six figures of followers on social media
The combination of education, platform, and work experience is particularly important for convincing agents and publishers that you're a worthwhile investment.
In terms of reviewers, I networked with and cold emailed two well respected academics in my specific subfield(s), and just asked them if they'd be down to peer review my work. I will be paying them out of my own pocket. The press doesn't require this as, as far as they're concerned, I'm the expert; but it's something I require for myself. It's important that this book not simply present a strong, readable, gripping narrative, but that it's also accurate and rigorous.
Now on to your second question. For serious nonfiction the first step is to get a literary agent. Literary agents sign clients for non-fiction based on book proposal and ~two sample chapters. They neither want nor expect the entire manuscript at this point. The agent is the party who has the relationships with acquisitions editors at the major publishing houses.
Once an agent signs you, you do some editorial work together, if necessary, and then you go on submission. The "on sub" process is basically your agent doing a series of targeted sales pitches to acquisitions editors. If an acquisitions editor wants to buy the project, they will have to present it to their team(s), and argue in favor of investing in the project; ie, they have to convince potentially multiple teams that this project will make them money.
The book proposal is an incredibly weird, complex piece of writing, and I advise hiring an editor to work with you on this. The best editors/consultants for book proposals tend to be what I call "behind the scenes big shots." These are usually people with journalistic training, who ghostwrite for a lot of very big names. These editors do not come cheap. In fact, I paid for mine with a round of crowdfunding y'all helped me with a few years ago. If you're interested, I could potentially put you in touch with mine.
Now once the proposal is ready and you've workshopped your query letter, you need to do some heavy research and make a list of lit agents you think could be a good fit for your project. You should have an A List, B List, and C List, and send them out in batches of 5-10 to keep this manageable. I can answer further questions about this research process, if you'd like.
The getting-an-agent process is probably the hardest part. It took me five years to get from "Holy shit this is my book I'm gonna do a book," to "I have an agent and we're going on sub." It's HARD and you'll really be forced to reframe how you understand success and failure. Like, the first time I got a personalized rejection with feedback I fucking PARTIED. A personalized rejection is huge, and FEEDBACK, omg.
The big difference, is that for academic presses you need a PhD and a genuine intervention in the historiography. For trade press, you need to convince multiple parties that the project can sell, and that you're qualified to write it.
Now some candor: you have to be incredibly single-minded to push through this process. Like, to the point that you're willing to sacrifice your day job and let your health fall by the wayside. Which leads us to: privilege!
It's very difficult to be able to put all your single-minded energy behind this process if you a. are not independently wealthy; b. are not married to a person with a lot of money; or c. do not have well-off parents who are able to support you. I can honestly say that, if I were not in category c, the process would have been much slower; I'm not even sure if it would be happening yet.
My publisher's advance--which was generous for a first time, untested writer--over one year was enough to MAYBE cover my health insurance and my monthly storage unit; I also have two part time jobs. And that's it. My parents handle the rest [ETA: to clarify, I do live with them]. Publisher's advances are not something you can live on unless you already have clout, or fame. And if you have a one year deadline, your writing will be full time. I'm not telling you this to discourage you. Professionally I have found myself in many fields where the silent part is "we assume you have family/spousal wealth because lol no one can live on this amount of money." It's not okay and it pisses me the fuck off. I feel like, if I didn't make this clear, I'd be complicit in maintaining those structural inequalities. I don't know how to dismantle them (it's gonna take way more than one person) but saying the quiet part out loud is a start.
Anyway, hope I answered all your questions and also didn't discourage you! Also, you never need a reason to ask me about this stuff.
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💫⭐️ 30+ F looking for anyone 25+ ⭐️💫 to write some oc m/m stuff. The kicker is that I want to write an omegaverse AU (medieval/high fantasy based) with a ship between brothers and with the possibly of mpreg and slight 🍪
Plot wise i would like to discuss between us so it's something we are both interested in! I do have a few ideas already kicking around ♡
Key facts when writing with me:
i am wanting to do world building for this and I'd like for my partner to be as involved as I am! I do enjoy talking ooc but my replies can be scattered due to my work schedule. I work full time and can only reply 1 to 2 times a week, because of this i am seeking a novella, advanced lit writer. I do write in present tense but i dont care if you write in past tense. I can write doms and subs so no worries on that, but i will not write a switch/verse. I want ideally 60/40 or 70/30 plot to smut ratio, however i am a slow burn fan and prefer a build up with scattered spicy moments.
✨️ Writing will take place on discord. Please leave a like for me to reach out OR add me on discord: oracle_venus
discord: oracle_venus
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“They’re cute” Part 2/2 (Nakime || Request by @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme)
Rating: Explicit
General genre and genre for this part: Romance || Dark fic
Word count and reading time: ±15.8k (1h)
Pairing: (Biwa Demon) Nakime x Human!Reader
Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba
⚠ Warnings for this part of the request: Minor death, Dead bodies, Desecration of a human corpse, Larvae and flies, Blood, Falling into madness, Jealousy and possessive behavior, Mental problems, Presented the character's past (from "Kimetsu no Yaiba Official Fanbook: Kisatsutai Kenbunroku 2"), Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining, || NOT EDITED
Autor’s Note: Okay, so before you read this, listen to me, my reader. The reason why this Request is divided into two parts is that with Nakime I immediately filled the limit of 1k text panels. And also the previous part with Daki and Mukago was light, but here it will be very heavy and dark - I don't even know how it happened because it was supposed to be another fluff. All of them were supposed to be fluffy and light, and each of them with a maximum length of 3k words, of which Daki would be the longest (I expected 9k from the start)! I really have no idea what happened here... I swear! All of a sudden, I felt like it was boring, and I panicked a little bit, and then it got wild. After that I felt like it was boring again, and I kind of forgot the exact request that was... And this was created. I hope the characters aren't too OOC here. I will humbly accept any harsh criticism for this.
➵ “They’re cute” Part 1/2 (Daki & Mukago)
> Nakime Masterlist
➻ Little dictionary:
Zataku (座卓) - is the generic term for this kind of low table.
Hadajuban (肌襦袢, はだじゅばん) - are a type of kimono undergarment traditionally worn underneath the nagajuban. Hadajuban are even further removed from resembling a kimono in construction than the nagajuban; the hadajuban comes in two pieces (a wrap-front top and a skirt), features no collar, and either has tube sleeves or is sleeveless.
Kimono (着物, きもの, lit. "thing to wear") - is a traditional Japanese garment. The kimono is a wrapped-front garment with square sleeves and a rectangular body, and is worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.
Jitō (地頭) - were medieval territory stewards in Japan. Appointed by the shōgun, jitō managed manors, including national holdings governed by the kokushi or provincial governor.
Okyia (置き屋) - residence maiko or geisha and may be inhabited by several of them. The first step of a woman, who wants to become a geisha is to accept in the okiya. The owner of the geisha house, okāsan (Japanese: "mother"), pays for the upkeep and training of their wards. In return, they give part of their earnings to support the house and other non-geisha residents. Okiya isn't a geisha workplace, they work in teahouses called ochaya.
Geisha (芸者) - in Japan, a woman with artistic skills, entertaining guests with conversation, dancing, singing and playing traditional instruments (e.g. shamisen, koto or shakuhachi). She can also conduct a tea ceremony (chadō) and she's as well-read as oiran. They dressed very modestly, but with taste and boasted sugao, i.e. face without makeup. In the opinion of the Japanese, they were considered the ideal of bijin ("beautiful woman"). Before a woman becomes a geisha, she must pass a six-year maiko period. If a geisha has a permanent partner, she must move out of okiya and okāsan can adopt a geisha. She then gains the privilege of a permanent resident of the house. Her debts to okiya are cancelled, but at the same time all of her income goes to upkeep of the house.
Knock, knock, knock.
A loud knocking sounded in Nakime's head. She knew everything that was going on at Infinity Castle.
She could hear the whistling of air as Kokushibo swings his sword when he practiced, the cries of Douma's victims from his Eternal Paradise as he fed and and where its dangerous snares also reached or the hundreds of footsteps of stray, weak demons wandering through her dimension.
It was her domain, her territory, her kingdom. Her world. She was in charge here, and nothing could surprise her.
And yet she didn't expect it.
She knew it was wrong and also that he knew it too. After all, she had His blood in her and could not hide anything from Him.
If he noticed something, he didn't pay attention to it. He was too busy with his tubes and the reactions going on in the glass vessels. For several hours he worked relentlessly mixing his blood with various substances and despite many failures he still managed to remain calm.
'Still' is the keyword here.
Because even he, after millennia of unsuccessful attempts, could finally lose his patience.
Before the knocking could irritate him, she tugged the strings of biwa and moved to another place, the old washitsu room, where her domain merged with the outside world.
So where?
Here, where the smell of blood and stale liquor still hovered. Here, where everything is familiar, though strangely different from what she has created herself with her art and sound.
And where she didn't like to be. This place confused her - filled her with many emotions that she thought she had buried deep and long time ago in her forgotten past, when she was still human.
Sitting straight on tatami mats, she looked around the traditional Japanese room as if it was her first time. There was not much in it: only a low table, at which still stood a clay glass for sake, and a pitcher lying next to it, the contents of which had spilled on the floor long ago.
The zabuton pillow, which she used to use while sitting and practicing on her beloved instrument, began to rot from spilled rice wine and large blood stains staining the floor around her.
The mats were completely ruined by it and had to be replaced, but this was no longer her problem. It belonged to her old life. Just like this house and the emotions it aroused in her.
Anger, grief and sadness all combine into one, giving her both headache and a tightening of abdomen. The smells irritated her nostrils and burning her esophagus.
She wanted to raze this house to the ground to cut herself off from her pathetic, weak, human self once and for all.
It was not her place now.
That woman was dead. She died in an alley by getting carried away in a sea of endorphins, blinded by pride and overestimated her abilities.
Did she really think she could hurt Him? Stupid, pathetic thinking of a weak human.
She lifted up her slender hand holding the wooden batchi pick tighter, ready to give a full show of her power until another knock pulled her out of trance again.
A quick "knock, knock, knock" sounded in the room this time, and it wasn't so loud when it was not only thundering in her head and had to overcome the distance to her in the air. Through the thin shōji door, she could see the shadow of the figure standing behind them in the rays of the rising sun.
She was about to pull the strings again to snagged the person standing at her door, but she heard how familiar voice called her by a name she no longer recognised, adding the honorary title '-sama'.
This voice... evoked a pleasant feeling in her chest, and before the eye of her mind appeared the image of a human. She could not remember the face, because it was shrouded in a thick mist of forgotten like so many elements of her past, but she knew where she remembered this person from.
This human used to come to her shows. Before she was transformed by Him, she made a living entertaining people with her music.
Although many people (traders, craftsmen) came to relax with the sounds of her instrument, she could not afford much at home. Most of her paycheck was taken by her husband...
He was a gambling addict.
And he lost. Time after time. One loss after another. Until finally he finally went too far, took something precious from her and lost it. That was the last straw.
A black-haired woman grabbed her head trying to interrupt the flow of memories. She plunged her sharp, blue nails into her long hair and unconsciously began pulling on them to distract her from them. Wanting to turn the bitter pain of past wrongs into physical.
She couldn't stand it and... What did she do?
Ah, yes.
She killed him.
Now she remembers it exactly. She used a hammer and smashed his head for losing her only kimono in which she could perform, and then she went on stage as usual.
In her head were the voices of people who began to mock her, and their howl hurt her ears. She felt their malicious, unfavorable gazes judging her poor, useless, holey clothes.
The only other kimono she found in the closet that could replace her previous one.
Although she was frightened and humiliated, she tried not to show it and humbly looked down to somehow escape, to separate herself from them, when her legs were heavy as lead, her feet were planted in the ground.
Then her eyes met the only friendly look. Its owner sat the closest to the wooden stage and did not show her the pity, that you feel for a pathetic dying animal. It would only humiliate her even more. He really felt sorry for her. Those eyes were so sweet and gentle. Looking at them from behind her dark bangs, she began to play.
The slender fingers, on which, despite the long friction and washing, she still felt warm blood, moved themselves along the long neck of the instrument, pressing the appropriate chords and getting out of it as much as she could.
The other hand was not left behind, pulling the strings and creating together an unusual composition, although inside her body she was trembling.
She was afraid they would know. That they might already figure out what she did. The tension in her rose and could be felt in her music. Her hands were shaking and sweat was all over her body, but she never stopped playing.
The sounds were as clear as a calm surface of water in a lake and spread throughout the room hypnotizing everyone.
Despite the loud tones of her biwe, she could hear the audience holding their breath at more tense moments or whispering quietly to each other, covering their mouths with their hands or paper fans.
She had nothing left - no kimono, no means of subsistence, no talent...
When she finished playing the first tune, she felt mentally exhausted. She waited for the first signs of discontent among the crowd, but they remained silent. Uncertainly, she looked up from the floor and saw everyone staring at her like enchanted.
A moment later, someone from the end of the room called for an encore, and the rest of the gathered people follow up him, and then everyone chanted for more and more.
Before anyone had time to notice, the night passed them all like a dream. It was... Her best performance so far.
Tired, but drunk with many applause and praise, panting heavily, she returned to her house. Where the smell of alcohol and blood still hovered.
Her hands were all numb and aching from squeezing strings, when the customers was still called for more. Even the owner asked her after the show if she would come the next night and paid her handsomely for her work. She's never made this much money for one show before.
She was planning on buying herself a new, better kimono tomorrow. Maybe even two.
However, when she got home, all her good mood with blush disappear, when she remembered her problems. Actually, the one that was still lying there like she left him all night.
She had no idea how to dispose of the body. Where would she possibly hide them? How long would it take to find them?
Without more thought, she undressed her last kimono and dragged the inert corpse to the other room, which had previously been her bedroom. There she covered them with a sheet and left them.
She was aware of the stench they were about to emit and what might happen to her in return, but she didn't think about it then.
She resisted them and tried to live as before. With an old rag she tried to wipe away the already dried dark stains of blood with tatami, but no matter how much and how hard she rubbed, they remained.
After bathing in the bowl - wiping herself with a damp piece of fabric, she pulled out another futon and lay down in the living room so she not to have to lie next to the corpse and as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell asleep. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon.
She had no dreams that night.
Still hoping for a better day, she got up late in the afternoon and, as she had planned, went out to buy a new outfit.
However, already on the threshold of the house she saw a parcel left at her door. The paper, in which the package was wrapped, rustled when she took it in her hands and after tearing a hole in it she saw inside a beautiful dark material.
It was kimono with silver thread embroidered patterns and multicolored flowers. Among them, she recognized red tsubaki, light pink sakura, purple sakurasou and white ume.
It was beautiful and certainly expensive. She thought it might have cost even more than her paycheck yesterday.
Who could have given it to her?
She'd been offered a patron or danna-san, but she wasn't a geisha. She never went to special schools and was never a maiko. And she's already married, which is unacceptable to a geisha.
Nor was she weak or pathetic enough to accept alms. She could take care of herself and earn money.
But unfortunately, when she returned to the venue in the evening full of energy, her performances were not as unusual as before...
Even though the place was full of people, even though she was wearing a new kimono - a simple, dark brown kimono that she bought the same day from an older woman who ran her own store - and she was calmer than last time, she didn't do so well.
No matter how hard she tried and how much her fingers hurt from the strings after all, she couldn't repeat the success of the night before.
When she finished the first song she looked at the crowd and saw people whispering to each other with disgruntled faces, and the owner looked at her with doubt. Among those closest to her, she even saw a few looking at her with worry written on their faces.
Hoping to improve the situation, she tried again and again, but it was... mediocre. And that was until she started getting nervous and making amateur mistakes.
Anxiety and cold sweat overwhelmed her more and more as she confused the chords or made unclean sounds by improperly pressing the strings. She didn't know what was going on.
Feeling like she was fooling herself, she finished her show earlier than the night before and left. Or rather, she ran away.
She had to get out, she just had to get as far away from them as she could. She felt small under the weight of their eyes and that she was suffocating from the tension.
On the way home, she heard someone calling her. She pretended not to hear the voice, but the pushy person stopped suddenly in front of her, consciously or not, blocking her way back home.
She recognized the person as a client from the place closest to the stage. This was the same customer, who was the only one who looked at her with compassion during her performance last night and today looked worried about her condition.
"May I have a moment?" You asked kindly, bowing and introducing yourself. You was still breathing heavily from running after her.
She think that you have to even fall in the mud, which could be indicated by your dirty clothes on the right side and your wet sleeve.
She didn't want to talk to stranger, but out of courtesy she decided to see what do you wanted from her.
"I saw your performance, and I'd like to ask... Is everything all right?"
"In what sense?"
"During the first performance, you came in a ruined clothes, and today..." You stopped, not knowing how to define today's fiasco.
"Everything is fine, please do not make any more insinuations."
"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend you," you said, trying to defend and not upset the woman even more. It wasn't your intention at all.
"So leave me alone now."
Nakime walked around you and was about to left you behind her back, but you showed up right next to her.
"Could I at least walk you home? It's dangerous to walk alone at night," you said, fall into step with her.
She only answered you with a short, sharp "no" and sped up her step even more. You did the same thing, getting on her nerves.
"Then may I at least ask why you did not wear that kimono?"
"Excuse me?" She asked, but she didn't slow down. She frowned in anger. "So it was you. I do not need anyone's pity or charity."
She said through clenched teeth and her fists until her fingernails left crescent moon prints inside her hand.
"Oh, no! No, that was never my intention! I would never dare!" You defended yourself by raising your hands to your chest as a gesture of submission.
"I do not need this. I can take care of myself."
"I just wanted to help..."
"It is not necessary."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was worried to see you like that. You've never performed like this before..."
Sweating from nerves and feeling the anger of a dark-haired woman, you slowed down until you finally came to a complete stop. She didn't do the same and didn't even notice your confusion. Your last words were echoing in her head.
Does that mean you've been coming to her shows for a long time? How much could you know about her?
After a moment of hesitation, you followed her a few steps after her. The night could be dangerous even for a single man, let alone a woman.
She heard rustling of your shoes on the ground, but she didn't stop to look at you again. She didn't want to pay attention to you, hoping you'd get bored soon.
In the end, you escorted her all the way home.
- - -
On the third night, when she again failed to reach the previous level with her performance, she started lost her mind again.
Everyone seemed to look at her with contempt or regret or as if they knew what she had done. In a hurry, she fled to her home, wanting to hide in the safe four walls as soon as possible, but even they did not give her comfort.
You walked her home quietly again. You haven't said a word to each other, and that's fine. Otherwise, she felt like she'd scratch your eyes out or pull your tongue.
She didn't understand what she had done wrong, why she couldn't play like she did then. Is there something wrong with her instrument? Or is it with her?
In desperation and to get rid of the excess of overwhelming emotions, she began throwing clay, decorative jugs and screaming. She did not know how much time she had spent demolishing the room, but when she finished, she was kneeling sweaty on the mats, breathless and on the verge of collapse.
She's been so busy she hasn't heard your quiet knock. She only noticed you after you asked her through the door if she was okay.
She told you to leave, and despite the silence, she wasn't sure if you'd listened to her.
- - -
The next day, she didn't go on stage. Nor the next one, or even the day after that.
She lay apathetic in the middle of the room among broken glass, her long hair looked like a big pool of black blood and listening to the sound of flies buzzing behind a thin wall. The body must have started to rot and give off that characteristic insipid sweet smell that had not yet reached her.
She didn't feel up to anything, even to eat or drink water. When she heard the silent knock, she thought it was just a dream.
Sleep was no longer her salvation and escape from reality. She felt threatened all the time during it and was even more tired after waking up, until she stopped sleeping. Time slipped her slowly as she saw changes in the light coming through the window under the very roof.
Soon after, she was no longer sure she was still trapped in her sleep. An endless nightmare she can't escape from.
Only after long hours, when finally the thirst began to overwhelm her, she get up to drink from the nearby well.
With a slight trembling on her limp and weak legs, she moved to the door and almost fell over the pitcher standing next to it. The vessel tipped over pouring water around. There was also a bowl with a clay lid on it.
Nakime barely sit on the ground. She got dizzy and feel foggy for a while, but she managed to come to her senses.
She lifted a warm lid, and the strong smell of spices and hot steam from her shoulder struck her face. Then she felt a pain in her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't had anything in her mouth for a long time.
The bowl had ordinary ramen in it. The black-haired woman swallowed the saliva that flowed into her mouth and lifted the overturned jug with some water left in it. Unlike food, it was pleasantly cool moisturizing her dry throat.
She was about to start crying while she was eating. Food has never tasted so good.
Feeling better, she went home leaving empty dishes on the doorstep. She knew who brought it, and she expected you to come back.
The food was warm, which would indicate you were here recently. Did you come earlier to check on her, too? Were there any more meals? How did it feel to see that she didn't touch the food you brought?
She went to sleep again when she was full. She felt tired, but this time her sleep was peaceful. When she woke up, she felt better, so she decided to do something (although she was still weak).
She carefully collected the glass from the tatami mat and ate the scraps of food she found at home. With the money from the show a few days ago, she bought a big bag of rice and some meat in addition to a kimono, so she still had something to eat.
She hasn't touched any more of the dishes you left her. She was grateful for the meal earlier, but when she didn't need it, she wasn't planning on taking any help from you.
But she didn't spend the day just cleaning room and herself up. All this time, she was thinking too.
Why?
Why aren't her performances so good anymore? Why can't he play like that a second time? How was that show different from the others?
And when someone knocked on the door again, she came to the most frightening conclusions.
- - -
Fuku Ogawa stood at the shōji door of one of the houses. He picked up the dishes earlier that day, before it started to get dark. He was a butcher by profession and a friend of yours privately, so after you asked him to deliver the food here, how could he refuse?
Exceptionally, you couldn't do it in person right now. Well, these things happen sometimes - you have plans, but something came up, something happened, and you have to get out of the routine once or twice.
Fuku knocked on the door again. He heard a murmur behind them and the sound of silent footsteps. For a moment he felt a cramp in the abdomen - the discomfort that occurs when something is wrong. A slight anxiety gently fills our mind and body like poison.
Before he could do anything, the door opened and he saw in it a young, beautiful, but also tired woman. She had long, black, damp hair and pale skin. He saw a slight bruise under her eyes pointing to heavy nights and a black kimono with floral embroidery on it - he recognized them because you bought them a few days ago.
She looks surprised. It was certainly not him she expected to see outside the door, but there was nothing he could do about it. He introduced himself briefly and drew a bowl of food and jug of water towards her.
"Who are you?" she asked, ignoring the dishes in front of her. Instead, she grabbed the kimono with one hand and covered herself tightly. The other hand hung loosely, completely tucked into the sleeve.
"A friend," he said again short, hoping to get out of here as soon as possible. There was a slight, insipid smell coming out of the house, which he did not like and this woman make his hair stand on end.
"Could you take this inside?"
She asked and took a step back to let him come in. He didn't want to do it, he was uncomfortable with that woman, but he also didn't want her to accuse him of being rude.
He carefully entered without taking off his shoes and looked around the dark room. He didn't like the fact that there were no candles burning here and the only light that brightened a few meters in came from the full moon behind him.
"Put the dishes on the table."
He heard next to him. In the dim light on the other side of the room, he saw the outline of a low table and moved towards it, still holding the dishes in front of him.
But with every step he smelled a stronger scent in the house and heard the quiet buzz of insects. He knew it from somewhere, but couldn't tell from where.
Tap, tap, tap - her bare feet made on mats until she stood behind him. He could almost feel her heavier breathing on his neck and the smell of the perfume oils she used for her bath.
He was about to turn around and ask whether to bring some candles for her, if she didn’t have any (he just really wanted to get away from here as soon as possible, he wouldn’t come back here again for all the world) when a heavy object fell on his head.
In contrast, all turned white in front of his eyes from pain and he fell with a bang on a wooden piece of furniture, almost breaking it. The wood crackled silently in protest under his weight. The impact was so strong that he passed out almost immediately, but he was still barely conscious.
Then there was another and another. All he knew was what he got before he lost feeling and awareness of what was happening to him. With the remnants of consciousness, he finally knew what was the odor he smelled at home.
It was the smell of rotting meat.
- - -
Nakime kept hitting the man's head with a hammer until she got tired and left a bloody pulp. The remains of the man's hair and gray brain clung to her murder weapon, hand and also splashed on the zataku underneath.
She was trembling. Her breathing became heavier. She did it. Again.
She looked at the biwa standing on the other side of the room, illuminated by the light coming through the folded door. The strings in the cold light looked like silver thread of a spider. They lured her and summoned with their mute voices.
Now she has to go.
She must be in a hurry.
- - -
At night, you couldn't force yourself to show up at any place to have fun and relax a little. You didn't feel like it, even though some of your friends asked you to come.
They wanted to celebrate with you another big order to some remote place in the mountains. The locals were practically cut off from everyone else, which was perfect for you. Every month you were to send them three wagons with basic food and items - vegetables, flour, rice, spices, pasta, meat, materials and much more. You didn't ask where they got the money, it wasn't your part. What mattered was that they paid.
You liked to talk with them about a lot of things and eat with good music, but... you didn't want to. Why? You had your suspicions, even though you weren't entirely sure.
You've been up all night lying in your futon and flipping from side to side. Your head was still playing the tune of the biwa from a few days ago.
You felt thirsty in the desert. Like a drug addict in rehab. Like a believer who's starting to miss the presence of his God.
But what could you do when your only cure was gone?
Hours went by and you couldn't sleep. You couldn't think either, because your thoughts were filled with one person and their music.
You could've tried to run away until those feelings died off. Stop showing up in pubs, but how could you escape your own thoughts?
How could you hide from the part of you that loves her?
Loves her?
Yes, you could admit you admired her, but loves?
Surprised, you sat on the mattress and ran your hand over your face. You felt stupid. How old were you to fall in love like a naive teenager?
And yet the pleasant warmth inside you and the butterflies in your belly spoke for themselves. Even your friends noticed that you were different after that woman's performance. They teasing you for it, and you couldn't hide your red face or look them in the eye when you denied it.
Everyone thought she was new in town, but that wasn't true. You've noticed her long time before, because you liked her music, even if it wasn't outstanding.
You liked how she kept calm on stage and was always very restrained and elegant. If it weren't for her modest kimono, you'd think she belonged to the aristocracy.
You suppose that's when the feeling began to sprout inside you like a cherry blossom.
But when she showed up that night - terrified, haggard and wearing an old, torn kimono - all you wanted to do was go up to her and comfort her. Take her away from those eyes that surround her.
But then your eyes met and she started playing. She tugged the strings and as if at the touch of a magic wand all the stress and anxiety went away from her.
Then everyone else ceased to exist for you. You thought you and her were the only one in the room... No, in the whole Empire of Japan, or even in the whole world. It's just you and her.
Time stopped, and you could feel your heart beating with hers heavily breathe. Nothing else existed at that time - just you and her, and her music.
When she was done, the spell burst like a soap bubble. Suddenly other people appeared around you again and time went on its normal course.
Yes, it was then that the seed sown in your heart fully blossomed during that one song and gave birth to ripe fruit.
You listened to the rest of her performance breathless and with red cheeks, like she was playing just for you.
It was stupid to think so - she probably had no idea you existed, but there was nothing you could do about it. Everyone likes to dream and think they are special to someone.
So why should you be the exception? Besides, no one will know, it's just your thoughts anyway. Your own private place where you can hide when reality is too hard.
You opened the wooden shutters on a dark night. The moon was hidden far behind the clouds, and you couldn't even see the stars from here. In the background you could hear the quiet life of the insects and the sound of the wind running through the tall grasses.
She doesn't show up for some reason and she doesn't accept your presents.
When you gave her a kimono, you didn't mean to be rude or make it look like you felt pity for her. Same as when you brought her food. You really wanted to help her, but she was too proud.
You were worried about her.
You went out on the wooden engawa at the back of the house and sat down looking out over the meadows and the dark forest towers over the town.
If you wanted to, you could move to a bigger city. Maybe Osaka or Kobe? You could try your luck there. Open a new business of your own. Then maybe you could even afford an apartment in Tokyo? Or not, you don't think downtown would be a good place, it would be crowded. Maybe in one of its neighborhoods? Asakusa? Or Yoshiwara? You could meet a real Geisha or Oiran–...
"No, that's stupid." You scolded yourself in your thoughts. You'll act like a coward, and running away won't bring you anything, but a stain of pride and honor.
You'll keep thinking back here to her. Even if you leave, your heart will stay with her bleeding, because she won't even look at you.
The night was peaceful and quiet. The noise and singing of the wind dancing among tall grasses and branches of trees suppressed other sounds.
Your night passed slowly, looking at the full silver moon as it came out from behind the thick clouds.
Smelled like before the rain. Fuku would say, looking at a scene like this, it's going to be a tragedy. He's always been very superstitious.
But you were here alone.
The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?
You thought you heard her music from afar, but it was too quiet to be considered real.
- - -
The next morning, your friend find you in front of the house. Initially, you expected to see drunk Fuku, who liked to visit you at any time and was sometimes in a state of intoxication before noon.
Did he have some work today? He was a hedonist, but he was also responsible enough not to drink before job.
But no, it was Kiyoshi Hirano. A clerk. You invited him in and offered to make some tea.
"I just came to tell you that your friend with the biwa is back. You've been a little sad because of her lately..."
"What?" you turned to him with a clay jug. The movement was so fast that the right water poured out of the spout of the dish.
"Last night," he began slowly watching your face. "I was waiting for Fuku, where we used to meet to have a drink when she appeared on stage and started her performance again. She was... good. Looks like her lucky streak's back."
"Really? Do you think she will play tonight?"
You put the teapot in the cupboard where it was before, completely forgetting about the tea, and walked up to Kiyoshi again. You didn't notice his serious look and how closely he watched your brightened face.
"I don't know, I guess so. After all, it's what she does for a living." He interrupted your next question with a hand gesture. "I'm not going there today."
"Why?"
You were surprised by his cold reaction. He seemed angry or concerned about something.
"I'm going to check on Ogawa-san. I didn't see him yesterday and he still didn't show up today. From what I see, he's not here either."
"No, he's not here," you repeated deafly. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."
"Did he say something? What he was planning or where he was going?"
"No, I don't remember anything like that."
"Yhm. So nothing here for me. If you remember anything or see him, let me know."
"Something happened?"
"No, nothing. It's just my stupid hunch. But if I don't find him, I'll go to jitō."
Jitō was the deputy owner of the land on which your town was located. He was supposed to watch over his goods and peace, if a problem arose he had to solve it.
You just nodded at that. You didn't understand his concern about Fuku, you saw him yesterday, and he was fine.
"Okay, so be it. I hope to see you both at the show tonight."
"I hope so too."
He said grimly unconvinced and turned his back on you.
- - -
The orange sun had not yet hidden behind the horizon and you were already sitting in a local restaurant, at one of the tables closer to the stage.
People were elegantly dressed, some even more than was required stepping inside and taking their seats. It wasn’t a real okiya, so you didn’t quite understand their efforts to pretend to be better than they were, but you had no intention of pointing it out to them.
It was quiet. Conversations were conducted in a whisper. Glasses were not brought in toast. You could feel the tension in the air. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone.
Finally, after a time that seemed to last an eternity. After the sun and its last rays resembling the hands of a drowning man reaching out for help disappeared from the sky, covered by the deep black of the great scape filled with millions of stars, she appeared.
She wasn't looking at anyone. She did not wander around the room with her eyes like a frightened doe. She just took her seat and started playing.
And the music itself was flowing from under her fingers. The sharp notes flooded their all minds.They could not think of anything else, everything outside was in the background. It was just her and them. Her audience.
After the performance was over, there was thunderous applause. Everyone wanted more and more. As we can see, she returned in grand style.
You also listened enchanted. You didn't care that Kiyoshi didn't join you all night. You didn't even notice it. The world outside this room no longer existed.
- - -
"I'm going to the jitō," Kiyoshi told you when you met him buying rice and asked him why he was dressed solemnly.
"Business?"
The man looked at you in surprise, tilting his head as if he wanted to ask if you were kidding.
"I told you I'd go there if I didn't find Ogawa-san anywhere. You haven't forgotten, have you?"
"Oh, no. Maybe a little. I'm sorry."
"Yes, I can see it," he squinted, looking at you critically.
"Have you been at his place to see him?"
"It was the first place I visited. I asked his neighbors if they had seen him, but no one has seen him since he left for work two days ago."
"Then I guess he's not at the slaughterhouse either."
"Exactly."
"Listen, why don't you wait one more day? We'll go to the jitō together if he's still gone. Perhaps he's lost his way back, because he is drunk again."
Although improbable, such situations have happened. One time he took the wrong directions and tried to get into someone's house. The landlord of the house beat him hard, and for a week he walked around with a swollen face and purple bruises all over his body. Another time, he fell asleep in a truck loaded with bags of rice and was driven kilometers from here.
Although Hirano was unconvinced, he accepted your offer and you spent the rest of the day together.
In the evening, you went to your favorite place to eat with music. You only managed to get in because you came earlier - soon after sunset there was such a crowd that no one else could enter.
You saw Kiyoshi looking for your friend, but he didn't even see anyone even remotely resembling him.
When your food were served, she went out on stage. As always, she moved gracefully and without unnecessary movements, as if she knew that part by heart.
The long black hair fell before her face like a funeral veil. She was still wearing a simple brown kimono, and you were a little disappointed that she dismissed your present with contempt.
She raised a pale hand with well-groomed nails holding a wooden bachi pick. The sleeve of the kimono slid down her arm, revealing more of her slender body and silky skin.
You almost fell back into that stunning trance hypnotized by her music when something discreetly pinched your thigh. It was Kiyoshi. He seemed worried.
Surprised at his behaviour, you raised your eyebrows didn't understand.
"Blood," he whispered. His mouth tightened into a line after he repeated it. "She's got blood on her clothes."
And when you looked at the musician you could see how under the kimono, where the collar around her neck covered part of the white hadajuban was a small red spot. If you had sat further away you would never have seen it.
"It could be anything. Maybe she got dirty?"
"Maybe," he admitted grinding his teeth and not taking his eyes off her. Focusing on a small, meaningless speck. "Or maybe not. It will be revealed. Remember, we still haven't found Fuku."
For the rest of the evening, he didn't speak to you, looking for your friend. You too could no longer focus on the music and let yourself be carried away by the pleasant atmosphere - the stain on her collar was bothering you.
What if someone attacked her? What if there's a dangerous animal in the area? Or a madman? What if something could happen to her?
Your restless thoughts rushed more and more as wild mounts were let loose into the increasingly unpleasant, dark recesses of your mind where irrational fear and unlikely scenarios ruled.
But you still haven't found Ogawa-san, have you?
True, but maybe he just got lost again. Maybe he's tired and sleeping at home now. Maybe it's all one big misunderstanding. Maybe the stain on her collar isn't blood.
Maybe.
- - -
The next day, as soon as the sun rose, you set off with Kiyoshi to Fuku's house. You wanted to be absolutely certain, and according to your comrade's supposition, he wasn't there.
Everything looked as usual. There was a bit of a mess inside, but it was nothing disturbing or new. Ogawa was not one of those who paid attention to where he lived.
The futon, instead of being tucked into a closet, lay on the side of the large room with a blanket rolled up into a ball, as if it had just wake up. Around the room stood many pots of sake, which he did not want to throw away, and other things that he probably used lately.
Yeah, it was a mess, but it wasn't unusual.
"Let's go ask the neighbors," you said quickly leaving the house and not looking at Kioshi.
He managed to stop you by grabbing you tightly by the shoulder.
"I already told you, I did it."
"So what now?"
"We can only go to the jitō and he will hire samurai to guard the security. I think that's all we can do."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, for now."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I want to know what happened to Fuku. They won't be looking for the missing." He paused for a moment, feeling his anger rising. "They'll just try to prevent more disappearances. They don't care abo–"
Suddenly he stopped before his voice broke completely and then you noticed how tightly he clenched his fists. As he tries to stop the tears in his eyes and not let them flow down his cheeks.
You... You didn't know he was in such pain. That he feels that way.
You felt guilty that you didn't care more about your friend's disappearance, that you didn't start looking for him right away. That the first person you were worried about when you heard about his disappearance wasn't him, but was someone else.
"Listen Kiyoshi," you started insecure. "I want to hel–"
"No." He cut you of. "You would only be in my way, I prefer to work alone."
"Oh... okey."
You agreed, but you were hurt that your friend wouldn't let you join his investigation and also didn't want to argue with him. He was smart, so you knew he could handle it.
"Ah, and one more thing."
He added before you left the house. That was the last time you saw him, but none of you knew it yet.
"Stay away from that woman. Please."
• • •
The man decided not to involve you knowing how distracted you've been lately. Because of that musician, you couldn't concentrate, and you missed a lot of obvious things.
He was no longer just talking about a bloodstain or a lack of concern about Ogawa.
Yesterday, following the woman from a safe distance (so she could not hear you), he noticed that she was not afraid to travel alone through a dark town or wooded area.
It turned out that she did not live in even on the outskirts of the city, but in a village about an hour away on foot.
She never turned around to see if anyone was following her, and that should be a natural reaction for anyone traveling alone in areas where disappearances occur. Especially women, who are inherently weaker than men.
Almost everyone is talking about the disappearance of Fuku - together with a local vet, he had to help assess whether the animal is suitable for curing or going for slaughter.
Local traders and meat farmers ask about him because he was the cheapest specialist in his trade.
If there were any rivers nearby they could be turned to fish, but within a radius of many kilometers there was none and the delivery could cost them a lot.
Sometimes local doctors needed his help when the only way to save their patients was to amputate a limb.
Did Fuku practice on dead animals for fun, or is the profession of butcher and doctor so similar? He didn't know, and he never wanted to ask.
So what could have happened before he disappeared? And how could a musician you love have anything to do with this?
Unlike Ogawa-san, he was not superstitious or relying on mere hunch, but when he looked at the dark-haired woman he saw cold sophistication in her eyes.
Why a woman traveling alone in the dark didn't fear an attack?
Did she have any weapons on her? Or did she know something that others don't? Maybe she knew she had nothing to fear.
Another thing that caught Kiyoshi's attention was the strange smell around her house.
After "walking" her home safely, he ordered to come closer. Kiyoshi wanted to investigate the source of the scent. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he was already determined to solve the mystery.
He knew that the more days passed, the chance of finding a friend alive dropped drastically. His mind said he was probably dead, but deep down he still hoped of finding him alive.
It's silly how emotions can affect a person's logical thinking and behavior, but there's nothing he can do about it.
After all, he was only human.
Standing in front of her door, he listened to all kinds of sounds from inside, but there was complete silence. The only thing disturbing it was the sound of buzzing wings of flying insects.
Something sat on his hand and automatically killed the bug. He couldn't see what it was, it was too dark for that, but the next one sat on his forehead and another flew past his ear.
Flies?
You tried, slightly confused by his prying behavior, to pull him away, but he just went to the back of the building where the smell intensified.
"Kiyoshi, please sto–"
"Shhhh, be quiet and help me."
"Wha–?"
"Don't talk, just stand against the wall."
He cut off the conversation quickly so the woman couldn't hear you two and showed you where to stand.
In the dim moonlight, he saw a triangular window under the roof. Because the houses in the village were not tall, he could look through them, but he still needed help to reach it.
"Look, I don't think–"
"Shhhh."
You stood straddle and folded your hands, so he could put his foot on it. Then, with a slight swaying, he jumped on your shoulders.
"But listen, I don't–"
"Shhh, ladders don't talk!"
Holding on to the old boards, he tried to find something he could hold on to. Any holes or roughness.
"Stop fidgeting!"
He rebuked you in a whisper almost falling.
"Then don't stand on my head!"
When he stopped wobbling, you grabbed his ankles harder and at his signal, you slowly began to straighten up. Unfortunately, he still didn't reach the window.
He couldn't even pull himself up because he was still missing quite a bit with his hands stretched forth.
"And what? Do you see anything?"
You asked, in disbelief. Did you just help your friend 'peep at' spy on a woman?
"I really don't like what we're doing. Are you listening?"
But Kiyoshi didn't listen. He was mentally preparing for what he was about to do.
He took a deep breath. Then another one, and curled his knees trying not to fall. If he fails, he'll break his leg or arm.
The moment he jumped up, you walked away from the building. He grabbed the edge of the window and the old wood under his weight crackled in protest - they sounded like they were about to break.
At first he wanted to curse you for it, but suddenly he heard footsteps coming from the other side.
You were too loud.
"Is anyone there?"
A harsh female voice spoke up and he froze. He heard you burst through the bushes surrounding the house, rushing to the nearby trees and she stopped just below him.
Time stopped for a man then. Seconds turned into centuries. Flies flying around him sat on his hands and face, tickling him by thier little legs as they walked on him and bit his bare skin.
To keep them from getting up to his nose, he hid his face in a long sleeve, praying that the wood would stand up and that she would not look up.
The black-haired, looking like a yokai in front of her house, stood there for a moment watching the backyard. Long grass could reach her hips - her husband didn't care much about anything but gambling and alcohol, and none of her neighbors ever had the idea of trying to cut down the plants before they became miniature version of the wilderness for rodents and other small animals.
She was sure she heard the conversation, and the tread in the grass clearly indicated someone was here.
Or was it just her imagination? Maybe she's going crazy? Is it possible the smell of carcass lured the predators?
Still, she should be more careful and dispose of the bodies.
When she finally got back inside, Kiyoshi's arms couldn't hold him longer and he let go. He managed to land on his feet, but he leaned back and fell out of the engava into the sticky mud, which with the thick and long grass cushioned the impact like a pillow.
Scared, that she might come back, he quickly hid under wooden porch to wouldn't get caught, but this time he probably didn't make so much noise, because she never showed up again that night.
Unfortunately, he couldn't pull himself up to look inside nad he wasn't even sure if the moonlight allowed him to see anything.
He liked to think of himself as a rational person and more intelligent than the common man based on his intuition, but the smell was too suspicious.
Maybe it's feelings, but he believed that if anyone could know anything about Ogawa's disappearance, it would be her.
He couldn't ask her directly. He'd just freak her out and she'd do something unpredictable. After all, a trapped animal is ready to do anything to survive.
• • •
The next afternoon, Kiyoshi left the house and instead of going to work, he went straight to the jitō that controlled the surrounding area.
He was a clerk, so his request might have meant more to him than to an ordinary farmer.
Personally, he didn't like Hiroto Sasaki.
He got this job only by acquaintance with the landowner and did the necessary minimum of his work - all the money from taxes (which he did not pay to the landowner) was spent on alcohol and courtesans. He often hosted parties for friends in his home and did not care about the problems of the inhabitants.
People often asked him to stand up for them because otherwise he wouldn't even let them in or send them back home.
Kioshi did not have time to take three steps from the gate when an older, stooped woman approached him (as fast as her rheumatism allowed).
She had grey hair tucked into a low bun and a face full of wrinkles showing how her life was filled with both, happiness and worry. Her hands were resting on a long stick that must have helped her on her way here.
"Hirano-sama?" She asked in a quiet voice full of sadness and her half-blind eyes were even sadder. She bowed slightly to him. The man bowed and asked what she had to do with him.
"You see... My son, Kai, went missing yesterday. I can't find him and he's my only support after my husband's death."
"I see, so what can I do?"
Although he asked, he already knew the answer and with even greater determination went to the jitō headquarters to solve the problem.
One of the servants, whom he had managed to meet during his few visits, led him to the back of the mansion.
There, a fat man dressed in gold and surrounded by comfort women, was eating sweets and fruits.
In the background on biwa played them a geisha, sitting under a cherry tree - delicate petals of flowers swirling around her added her femininity and grace.
Kiyoshi, however, shuddered when he saw her resemblance to Nakime from afar. He probably would never have thought that she looked like her up close, but he still hadn't snap out of after yesterday's close encounter with her.
He did not want to look at her, but the sounds constantly emitted by the instrument remind him, that she is there, not allowing to gather thoughts and relax tense muscles ready to fight or escape.
"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"
Sasaki hated Hirano. He thought the clerk always poked his nose into his business and added jobs to him. He hated his visits, but his uncle (and the owner of the land he managed) ordered him to let him in because he had already met Kiyoshi by himself.
He said his remarks were accurate and he was able to listen to people. He thought he'd be a good right-hand man for Hiroto, but he knew he was doing better on his own.
The clerk refrained from roll his eyes hearing him and immediately told about the disappearances and pointed out, if the situation doesn't change, they could suspect either a wild dog attack or a serial killer in the area.
"And what do you think I can do about it?"
"Bring the samurai."
He answered without hesitation, instantly enraging the jitō. The fat man blushed so much with anger, he looked like a tomato.
The glass of saki he threw at Hirano luckily passed above his head and crashed somewhere on the rocks behind his back. All he felt was a few drops of alcohol drenching his clothes.
"What do you think you're proposing? Whose money?! Do you think I have no expenses?!"
"Maybe from the taxes we pay you?"
Only the quiet sound of the wind in the branches of the old trees answered him in their own language and the birds singing in them.
The geisha stopped playing as soon as the clay vessel was broken, but even the man, sitting on a chair resembling the emperor’s throne, fell silent.
The clerk, bent all the time, raised his head slightly to see how Hiroto calmed down and turned pale.
As he suspected - all the money went to his and his friends debauchery.
"If you don't think it's appropriate or unnecessary, I can always write a letter to–"
He couldn't finish because Sasaki came to his senses.
"No. There is no need for that. Starting tomorrow, I'll bring in someone to keep an eye on things."
Several times in the past, Kiyoshi threatened to write to his uncle, but it had to be a complete last resort, because he knew Hiroto would be willing to hire an assassin for him.
Not feeling completely satisfied, he had to agree and let go.
He would rather Sasaki did it today (since many samurai looking for new masters to serve recently), but he also knew that after spending all the money that idiot had to somehow get them now.
He could only hope that by tomorrow there would be some samurai in the area.
• • •
As the sun went down, Hirano was already watching the musician's house from afar. He waited for her to come out, so he could sneak in.
She went out to the perform practically every night, so Kiyoshi knew he should soon see her leaving the building and walking along the sandy road.
And an hour after sunset, a woman appears at the door and stands on a wooden engave looking around the neighborhood. Her eyes were scouring the yard like she was looking for something or waiting for someone.
With loose hair and a black kimono, she looked like a yokai demon.
But he didn't understand why she hadn't left yet. Did she know she was there?
No, it's not possible. He made sure he couldn't be seen by her.
So why?
Suddenly, incredibly brisk for a woman of her small stature, she took a large package wrapped in fabric and ran to the back of the house.
What could be in the package, which she was secretly trying to get rid of? She hid letters from her admirers from her jealous husband? She gave birth to an unwanted baby? Or maybe the murder weapon?
The clerk planned to approach there, but also preferred to wait until she went to work. He didn't want to get caught again, and he was afraid it might be a trap.
That she could watch the backyard from the window, and when she saw him, she'd attack him with something. Although Nakime was a woman, he preferred not to underestimate her, especially since their last meeting had completely frightened him.
So he waited.
And he waited all night.
However, she did not go out again and after sunrise - when farmers began to go out to look after animals and crops - he left.
• • •
During the day, Kiyoshi could no longer watch her - as an clerk he had his duties and had to be careful not to fall asleep.
But it wasn't an easy day for him.
Once he poured black ink from the inkpot, staining the sleeve of a silk kimono, and flooded the papers lying next to it. Or he also had to re-read documents a few times because he couldn't concentrate.
He felt completely exhausted, although he didn't feel that way coming here. Tiredness began to catch up with him.
He looked forward to the sunset indicates the end of his work. The steady sound of rain hitting wooden walls or ceramic tiles made him even more sleepy, and he hoped it would clear up by then.
And as soon as it changed from a sad, grey sky to a blood-red color, he immediately went out. There were large puddles everywhere and it still smelled of rain after a few hours, so he took one of the umbrellas with him.
He hoped that someone hired by the jitō would show up during the day to get a map of the area, but no one showed up.
Neither samurai nor any local villagers he would hire to save money.
As he walked, he could hear Fuku's disapproving voice in his head, who, looking at the sky, would say, "Someone good will die today, the sky and the gods are in mourning."
Many times then he looked at him with a sly smile trying not to taunt him after by quoting his grandmother, but now he misses his superstitions.
How much he would give to be able to sit with him and you on an engava and look up at the sky, drinking sake after work and celebrating the start of the day off.
He came to his home first. He wanted to change into darker clothes, so she couldn't see him.
He was hoping she'd leave the house tonight to perform. If not, he's gonna try to look around the back of the building to see what she's hiding.
Kiyosji looked at the unfolded futon, which he didn't hide. It looked so appealing that he lay down on it for a while - after all, she didn't come out with the sunset anyway. He still had time.
And with that thought - he fell asleep.
- - -
He woke up when it was completely dark. Afraid he was running late, he ran towards her house. If he showed up too late, he wouldn't know if she left.
The run didn't last long, he didn't like to practice. If it weren't for his limp stature, you probably never would have been able to hold him on your shoulders.
Intermittently, he switched once from running to marching and his wooden shoes loudly let the surrounding residents know that he was in a hurry. He was panting heavily, like a wounded animal and he could feel that he had fire in his lungs, but he would not stop.
At least until a black-dressed figure stood in his way.
Nakime walked slowly, holding her precious instrument in her hands. One of the sleeves completely concealed her hand, which surrounded the body of the instrument like a mother hugging a child.
Unbelieving (and feeling goose bumps on his sweaty body) he stopped to catch his breath.
The woman passing him did not even look at him.
He looked at her for a moment - she, as if feeling it, stopped and turned completely to face him. A distance of 20 meters separated them, but for him it was still too small.
They stood in silence waiting for any movement of the other person until they were interrupted by a man in armor.
Samurai.
"So this useless pig did something useful at least once." Thought kiyoshi
The man approached the musician and asked if everything was all right, looking suspiciously at Kiyoshi. He was not surprised, but he was still outraged.
She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.
She calmly replied him. Her voice was serious, but pleasing to the ear.
There was also an aversion to the samurai, who had to put on heavy armor just for the show - it was impractical if he came to chase someone lighter and would only slow him down.
After a while, each of them went their way - Nakime to the restaurant, he headed towards her house, and the man watched them.
He was probably making sure Kiyoshi didn't hurt her.
But that's good, because now he's sure he won't get attacked from behind and the house is empty.
Suddenly he realized he was more and more convinced of her guilt, although he had never approved of hasty judgments. He believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law or evidence was found to point to the culprit.
Meanwhile, what did he have? Terrible smell coming out of her house and strange behavior. In the past, it wouldn't have been enough for him to pass judgment, but since Fuku's disappearance, his thinking has changed completely.
Standing in front of her house, Hirano stopped and began to listen. The only thing that could be heard from inside was the noise of a flock of flying flies on which the sound he trembled. He hated all kinds of insects, but he forced himself not to vomit or run away.
The odor's gotten worse since the last time he was here, and he had to put a long sleeve on his nose and mouth. He must have blocked it somehow.
It didn't help much.
He planned to get in and out quickly. The building wasn't big, so it couldn't have taken him long.
The door was not locked - probably the smell itself discouraged entering.
Inside, he left them open so the faint moonlight would illuminate this room. He saw the outline of a low table and two seat cushions. In the corner of the wall with the door, there was something white that he thought was bedding.
But in the current light, he couldn't recognize the huge stains on the tatami mats. He needed a candle.
Holding his breath from time to time, he searched the few cabinets inside and found some hidden next to a bag of rice along with a flint.
Satisfied that he managed so well, he started hitting stones against against each other and watched as the sparks light up the room for a moment until he managed to ignite the wick.
What he saw next made his heart stop and all the color drained from his face, making him look like a ghost. At the moment, although he was alone, he felt threatened and wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. He felt like a deer on a hunt.
Blood was everywhere. Dark stains covered the floor at the table, one pillow and led into the other room behind the shōji door.
On the table he saw overturned white sake glass, also stained with blood, and nearby there was a jug in which there was still some alcohol.
Feeling his body getting heavy he moved into the other room and when he reached out to open the door, he saw that he was trembling. There, the smell and the sound intensified like a warning not to go in.
He was afraid of what he'd see, but he had to...
With one quick move, he opened the door. It slammed and the smell hit him in the face with double force, pinching his eyes. Flies immediately sat on him, looking for something to eat, biting his exposed skin and drinking sweat.
There, in the middle of a small room, were two bodies. He saw the white larvae moving in what used to be the heads of the wretchs, and how far the rotten process had gone.
He couldn't hold out and threw up. It was too much for him. He had to get out. Now. Immediately.
But he didn't even have time to take a step because as soon as he turned around, the hammer hit him in the face, smashing his completely nose and knocking out his teeth.
Through the black spots appeared before his eyes, Kiyoshi saw a figure in front of him and then fell, when she hit him a second time, falling into the death chamber. He managed to block the blow with his hand and heard a loud crack of a broken branch.
He didn't think about it then, but that was the sound of his broken fingers. Because of the adrenaline, he couldn't feel it now.
Unfortunately, he didn't see anything else. The candle fell out of his hand and went out.
He felt a weight on his stomach as the woman sat on him and tried to hit him on the head again. He was still covering himself by his wounded arm and trying to get it off her somehow, but she was too heavy for him.
He hoped that someone would hear his scream and come to help him, because at every moment he weaken.
But no one came, and another body was found in Nakime's room. Now she's done her ritual and she is ready to perform.
- - -
The venue was buzzing of impatient voices. All the gathered people were looking forward to the arrival of their favorite musician, who rarely made herself time off. The long-haired woman hypnotized with her music, causing clients to come back for more.
Her fame quickly spread around the area and it became harder and harder to find a place inside. You had to come a few hours earlier to listen to her melody.
Because of this, some (those who never heard it and just wanted to eat) thought it was stupid. They didn't understand and called her audience fools.
And you were one of those fools. You're in front of the stage again, waiting for her to perform like a dog for a treat. Despite your most sincere attempts to stop or listen to your friend, you could not stop coming. She was like a drug.
Every time you've seen her, you've felt the butterflies in your belly start to dance inside and your mind becomes incredibly light, like when you're drunk with alcohol. But you didn't drink sake so you wouldn't be distracted and fully enjoy the performance.
But today she still hasn't shown up. People began to get impatient and the owner of the premises upset - thanks to her his income increased significantly and if she decided to change workplace meant problems for him.
Some of the guests left mad, and some started wondering out loud where she was. At some point, they started chanting her name, thinking it would make her suddenly show up.
You'd probably be the last person to leave this place and still wait a few more hours for her.
You missed her and her music during the day, waiting for the night to see her again.
But you didn't have to because she finally showed up.
She was wearing a black kimono that you once gave her, but something that caught your eye and prevented you from fully enjoying the performance was the numerous tearing of the material that you seemed to be the only one to see.
• • •
Nakime came home in the morning at her regular time. She was fine, both physically and emotionally, despite the scratches on her forearms and the bruises on her abdomen caused by that burglar. Even a not-so-pleasant meeting with a neighbor did not dampen her spirits.
An old woman called her attention to yesterday's noise and said she already thought her husband was dead. Until recently, quarrels and shouts in their home were standard fare.
It was supposed to be a joke, but she didn't even know how much of it was true. She also told musician to take care of the horrible smell coming out of her house.
She didn't care much about her as she was about yesterday's guest.
She did the right thing coming home. Meeting the samurai made her feel a little insecure and afraid of detection - killing someone outside meant more risk.
She wanted to go back and keep trying to dispose of the bodies. Although they made her nauseous, she found the willpower to cut them into pieces and wrapped in her previous kimono.
She finally appreciated the clothes you gave her because you can't see the blood stains on them. But she felt that if she came out on stage all covered in blood, no one would even notice - everyone was mesmerized by her music.
Sighing, she undressed and went to bed. Then maybe she'll try to get rid of the body parts again.
It was a tedious and difficult task. She had to do it in such a way that the origin of the meat could not be determined immediately.
But she was glad she took care of it because otherwise she wouldn't have found the footprints and other tracks behind her house suggesting an unwanted presence.
She was sure it was her night visitor, but who was the other person? Why didn't they come together?
A normal person would feel scared in a situation like this, but after tonight, Nakime felt invincible. The power she had and the impunity with each subsequent murder made her as drunk as alcohol. She became more and more confident and less cautious.
But she now fell asleep without fear.
- - -
Her work was interrupted by a knock on the door. Her fingers and wrist hurt from cutting hardened cartilage, and her knees from long kneeling.
She got up unstably and washed her hands in a bucket of cold water before she opened the door.
Is it that crazy old lady again? Anybody else in the neighborhood who's bothered by the smell? Maybe it's a samurai?
But it wasn't any of them.
That was you.
You stood insecurely, holding a package wrapped in brown paper in your hands. You didn't look her in the eye. Instead, you focused on the floor.
You took small, short breaths to somehow bear the stench from inside, but you did not make a face. You asked if you could come in and talk.
Nakime moved away from the door to let you in. She tried not to show it, but she was glad you came - she was shaking all over her body at the thought of smashing your head and going to perform again in the evening.
You stood in the middle of the room, and the setting sun lit the room for a moment until she quickly closed the door and darkness set in. She didn't have any open windows here.
"I know everything," you started before she had a chance to come up to you. She quietly took the hammer lying on the cabinet near the door.
"And on the one hand, I didn't want to believe it, I've been denying it all the time... But I can't do this anymore. It rips my heart between what I should do and..."
"What do you mean?" She asked, but she wasn't interested in your answer. She just want you to didn't turn around for a second.
Nakime was standing right behind you with a hammer ready to strike.
"You are the murderer, aren't you? You killed Fuku and Kiyoshi..."
Suddenly you turned around when she had her tool raised and made her hesitate. It gave you the precious second to grab her wrist and lowered it, asking her to talk for one more minute longer.
"I should turn you in, but I can't," you confessed. "I'm hurt by what you did and it will never stop, but for some reason I can't do anything against you."
Your voice broke. She was so close now, she saw you were on the verge of mental breakdowns.
"Please tell me what I should do. If you think it's best to kill me, do it and put an end to my torment."
For a moment she didn't know what to say. She felt she should end it with one punch, but instead she told you to leave.
She didn't like the new kind of arousal caused by your confession, the fluttering of her heart or how the blood came up to her cheeks. She felt she was getting a fever because of you. Her legs are even weaker than they were before.
"Then you'd better kill me," you said firmly, surprising her. "Because I can't live without you–your music."
You were too embarrassed by what you said, so you quickly added the first thing that came to your mind. You were hoping it was too dark to see your blush.
But she couldn't bring herself to lift the hammer anymore. When was the last time she felt that way? If ever it must have been a long time ago.
"Get as far away from here as you can," she began in an imperiously tone. "And come back exactly ten years from now, if you still feel the way you feel, you will come back here and I will play only for you."
And you left her with a bleeding heart after an indescribable loss. Nakime thought she was merciful to you, she condemned you to an even worse fate than if she had killed you - from now on you will carry her sins on your back, the betrayal of your friends and miss her for each of the 3 652 days.
Awareness of all this will not allow you to sleep peacefully. Her absence prevents you from eating and function normally. Losing your friends isolated you.
You never stayed anywhere longer after that, looking for your place and running away from that house at the same time.
She was both, your cure and curse.
- - -
You went to her show last one time and left the next morning with the first rays of sunshine.
Nakime put on another kimono, that you brought her - simple, black, because you noticed she doesn't like glamour and extravagance.
In the full light of the room, she could see how the events of the last few days had affected you. You were pale, lost weight and had big bags of sleeplessness under your eyes.
You looked like a shell of your former self.
It gave her the thought that now you belong to her - she will never leave your mind or heart and will be your only one. For the rest of your days, even though you're not together, she will haunt you in your life as a ghost of the past, when you awake and in your dream.
For some reason, she liked the power she had over you.
The melody of that day was very sentimental and passionate. The performance was definitely different and even better than usual. Some felt goosebumps and coldness during climax moments, and wiped away tears at the slower ones.
It wasn't just music meant to show her talent and entertain the audience - it had a message behind it. And everyone felt it.
It was her goodbye to you.
People talked about it for a long time after you left, hoping she'd do it again, but she never did. Her fame came as far as you ran away, haunting you and never letting you forget your sin of silence.
You pretended not to hear and didn't speak up when the subject of a genius musician was raised. All the venues, where the music played you avoided like the plague.
After you left, she felt like she lost something, looking at the table you used to always occupy. She also became even more ruthless in her actions, which led to her demise.
This one time she chose the wrong person, because he could not be called a human, and gave her a new life as a demon.
You, looking for relief after a few years, ended up with one of your clients. A platinum blonde with rainbow eyes greeted you with open arms after seeing your condition.
His closed community was located in a remote area in the mountains. People there like you were broken and destroyed by life or loved ones.
And what it meant to you, they've never heard of her or her music.
Honestly, it didn't surprise you that most of them were women, inherently weaker physically than men. They couldn't defend themselves, so they always had to run away and hope they'd be better off somewhere else.
Every time the Founder called you a "poor thing", you felt like you were getting goosebumps and when he looked at you with those sad eyes, you thought something was wrong. Like he's faking it.
But it used to be, because with your current state, you didn't care.
You felt a slight discomfort associated with the honor of eating in his private chamber, but he did not seem to care.
You didn't notice when you were talking that he doesn't eat anything from a table full of food prepared by his followers. All he did was push plates towards you to make sure you tried everything. And with his elbows on the table, he listened to you like you were telling a fairy tale. You didn't want to talk about her or your problems, so you told him where you were and what you saw.
With his chin resting on his hand with blue long claws nails and sleepy eyes, he listened to everything like enchanted and curious about you.
He, in order for you to stay, persuaded you to hand over your business to someone else and join the cult.
He argued that by your constant fatigue and lack of strength to handle it. He promised to improve your condition after you moved here - he praised the brisk mountain air, pure waters full of minerals and his connection with the gods, giving comfort to his followers.
You weren't convinced by the idea of being one of his followers, who loved his every move, so you got the role of his guest.
You lived with the rest of them in a big common room - the men and women (with children) had their own separate wings in the large building.
You had there your own responsibilities that weren't too heavy, because the Founder of the cult told you to focus on recovery.
And just like anyone else, you could leave whenever you wanted (in theory).
Many times during the talks he offered you the attainment of your own eternal paradise - explaining that it means a state of eternal peace and happiness, without any worry and pain. His ultimate mercy toward broken people.
The offer sound tempting, you had to admit it, but you had a promise to keep, and sinners like you have no place in paradise.
And now, you found yourself again in front of the same door as ten years ago.
Douma was slightly opposed to your departure, saying you were still unhealed and tried to convince you to stay, but you were adamant about it. He gave up after you promised you'd come back and maybe you'd finally accept his offer.
You had to find out if the last ten years of your life were in vain.
To meet her, you left Douma's cult five days earlier and spent the night at the inn, because you arrived a day too early (than you assumed) and you sold your house a long time ago.
The wood on the door started to splinter, but it was strong enough to withstand your knock.
For a moment you wondered if she was still there or had not been caught, until the door with the loud squeak of the old hinges opened itself.
Inside, you thought nothing had changed - only the smell had left. Where there used to be a second room (with the bodies) she was sitting with her biwa. Behind her was an impenetrable darkness as if there were no walls behind her.
After called her by her old surname (which you didn't even notice slipping out of your mouth) you didn't speak to each other anymore.
You were surprised she still had the same kimono you gave her. You know this, it was made especially for your order, because you could not find anything in her type.
As soon as you took your seat on the only pillow (like it's specially set up in front of her for you), she started playing, and you thought the last decade was just a bad dream.
You've both fallen into a trance by hypnotizing each other. So much has happened that she's forgotten your promise, and if you hadn't come, you'd be a relic of her past.
In the morning, before the sun had time to rise, you left with the feeling that you belonged to each other. She was the musician, and you were her audience.
But before you left for the next 29 days, she spoke to you only once to telling you to call her Nakime.
And with every full moon, you'd come back for more. She didn't invite you but you knew she'd be waiting for you and she knew you'd be back.
She never spoke to you, but you didn't mind. You both understood each other without words and your roles in the relationship.
Sometimes after her performance you felt happy, sometimes more depressed than usual which Douma noticed and always asked about. He seemed to care very much about his followers, so you believed it was a real concern.
As history has shown, you are sometimes very naive and blind.
After a long and tiring series of questions from him, you finally revealed the reason for your sudden departures and current changes in mood.
Once Nakime was ordered to bring in all 12 moons, but she had a problem. Douma, as always, had company in his audience chamber and could not move him, when people were close.
She waited patiently to bring him, when she heard you come in to inform him of your another trip. You wanted to do it when he had an audience so you could get out sooner, but unfortunately he was willing to discuss it with you.
"Oh, you're leaving so soon again? Ahh, I was about to call you. I'm soooo bored here alone. Are you sure I couldn't go with you? Please, I'm begging you."
The blonde asked you with a smile and folding his hands as his followers do in prayer, excited as if you'd already agreed. For some reason, you felt like he was putting more and more pressure on you as this time of the month came.
"Douma-sama, you have responsibilities, and I'll see you in a few days."
Sitting cross-legged on a big pillow, a man puffed up his cheeks like a baby. Sometimes you wonder how old he really is.
You refrained from sighing and running your hand over your face. To stop him from pleading further, you drew your last card against him.
"Besides, I thought you couldn't leave the building during the day. And I couldn't just travel at night, you know that, right?"
"Yes, but it'll take so long and you'll be sad again because of that woman."
He closed his eyes and leaning slightly forward started whining in the tone of a child stating the sad obvious.
Untli he suddenly straightened up as if a new energy had entered him and, clapping his hands, said pleased with his new idea.
"I know! It will be better if you stay here this month! Then you will not take a step backward in your treatment."
But you instantly frowned and clenched your fists. His insistence was slowly starting to get on your nerves.
The blonde, feeling as if he were on thin ice, became sad again and rested his chin on his hand. In the second, he was holding a golden fan.
You once had a chance to get a close look at it, during the affiliation of new members in his this same chamber. He covered half of his face with it after hearing another sad story.
After several times spent with him during this meetings (at his request) you noticed that although all the stories were always tragic, they also sound very similar.
You're surprised they didn't affect his psyche after all these years of listening to other people's problems and expecting them to solve them.
Although perhaps that was the reason for his sometimes childish behavior? When he needed to, he was able to remain serious, although most of the time he acted like an actor on stage - sometimes all too exaggeratedly.
Normally, he'd keep pushing you to stay until you escaped into the sunlight, but he's noticed you've become distant and inaccessible to him lately. This prompted him to rethink and change his tactics.
"I'd better go."
"Will you come back?"
"As always," you said, turning your back to him.
You were getting more and more tired of his personality. And it wasn't just you, Nakime listening to it was also running out of patience.
"My, my. You're really quickly trying to get away from me. Wait a minute longer. I have one more question."
You sighed.
After Nakime performances, you discovered that you are finally managed to sleep peacefully all night without the corpses of your friends blaming you for their deaths, and you waited impatiently for her. On the one hand, it gave you relief, and on the other, a sense of guilt.
You wish you were on your way already, but as a courtesy, you always came to let him know you were leaving and then you had to regret it.
"Yes, Douma-sama? What do you want to ask?"
You asked dryly, wanting just to get out. For some time, Douma seemed too interested in your travels and invited you to spend time together much more often. Even when you were too mentally exhausted and didn't accept the offer, he would come to you. He was literally like a little kid, who didn't understand the word "no."
The black-haired woman clenched her fingernails on the instrument until the wood crumbled a little. If she'd used a little more force, she'd have broken her biwa like a stick. The blue fingernails pierced the neck of the instrument, creating holes, but she didn't care about it now.
"What is she like? You never told me much about her."
"Is that all you want to know? After that, can I leave?"
"Of course," Douma said straightening up and putting his hand on his massive chest dressed in a red turtleneck with a black top. "I always keep my promises."
A man was looking at you with those peculiar rainbow eyes waiting for an answer. They were simultaneously alluring and dreadful. Everyone said they were his gift from the gods.
But like you, he also had his curse and it was those beautiful eyes. Maybe that's why blonde demon thought he was the only one, who understood you and what it was like, in his own twisted way, remembering his beginnings from time when he was human.
Knowing that it would be better to answer him (because you may later regret it by his insistence upon your return), you pondered for a moment.
What is Nakime like?
She was elegant, cold and cruel. Merciless. Yes, but you can't deny that you've noticed the silent acts of courtesy she made to you during your meetings. She was too proud to admit them out loud.
The interior of the house has somehow changed, the blood has disappeared and it is definitely warmer for you on cold nights.
Sometimes you seemed to sense a delicate scent of flowers, completely different from Douma - a strong, suffocating smell of lilies. And sometimes you seemed to sense something else underneath it on him.
She was above it all, but she was also...
"She's cute."
You said with such confidence, that the woman's face instantly turned red. Her heart beat faster and in her belly the long-sleeping butterflies woke up.
What did you do to her?
Douma unexpectedly laughed behind his hand. The joyful, spontaneous sound echoes through the walls of the spacious room making it even louder.
When he finished and did nothing more, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.
"Hm? Did something happen? You decided to stay?"
"No, I'm just wondering if that's it."
Douma smiled at you as if you were telling a joke.
"Just like I promised, you're free now." But before you disappearing completely from his sight, he added:
"And remember I can always give you eternal paradise if you ever decide. Then you'll never have to suffer again."
As soon as the shōji door with the painted lily on canvas closed behind you, he was moved to Infinite Castle.
Muzan asked them about their progress in the search for the Blue Spider Lily and their success in eliminating the Ubuyashiki clan, at the same time strongly criticizing and calling them useless. Sometimes he had to relieved his anger on them and somehow get them to work so they wouldn't get too lazy.
Some of the blood of the lower moons was spilled and some of the upper moons were reminded of their place in the hierarchy. Nothing new.
And when the meeting was over in a few strokes of the strings, she sent everyone back where they were. Except for one person.
Douma looked around in surprise wondering why he was not yet in Eternal Paradise in his chamber. As soon as he saw Nakime sitting in the distance, he stood up and waved to her.
"Oh, Biwa Lady, what's wrong? Are you bored too?"
Nakime ignored him and, squeezing the plectra tighter, said imperatively.
"Stay away from that human."
"Hmm?" He muttered, putting his finger to his cheek and tilting his head slightly, thinking for a moment. After that, the man asked carelessly.
"Which one? I have a bit too many of them to guess which one exactly you mean, hahaha."
Douma laughed innocently, pretending not to know what she meant, irritating her even more. If the bangs hadn't covered her face, he could have seen her veins pulsing furiously across her forehead.
As a final warning to him, she repeated this to him through clenched teeth.
"Leave. That. Human. Alone. And. Never. Bother. Again."
"Oh, you mean my friend?"
He tilted his head slightly and with a satisfied smile added.
"But your chosen one lives with me, how could I ever leave my dear friend alone in need?"
Blonde bowed his head slightly, wrinkled in fake worry thick eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Oh, my, my. You're putting me in a difficult position. Friends should help each other and besides..."
He looked at her half-closed, with a predatory smile, and said in a lowered voice. "I don't usually share with my food."
Suddenly Douma was crushed by a wall falling on him from above. When she released him, he looked like a moving mass of flesh and meat.
He recovered quickly as a upper second moon befits, laughing at the woman's reaction. If he wanted to, he could easily avoid it with his speed.
"Oh, my, my, hahaha, you really need it, you're a quite strong, but still too weak and little too slow, my dear."
Seeing that he raised his hand again, he added quickly.
"I'm sorry, sorry, I just bait you. I didn't know you cared so much about this one. If you'd explained it before, I'd understand."
"There is nothing to understand here. Don't elaborate. You're just supposed to stop."
The cult leader giggled again and with a friendly smile refused.
"You see, this is my friend, who came to me for help. Who would I be if I didn't help him get rid of the pain? After all, it's my job."
Before Nakime could pull the strings and hurt him again, he said:
"You're cute."
Imitating your voice and tone. He wasn't the best at it, but it worked well enough that she hesitated for a moment and almost dropped the instrument. Grasping the neck of the biwa again, she changed the acrod, and instead of cutting him vertically with a shōji door, she sent him back to his audience chamber.
It took less than a second, but Douma noticed it, and he was complacent. Although he did not consider himself a master of deduction, as demonstrated by his least fruitful search for the Blue Spider Lily of all the moons.
Who would have expected Biwa Lady to have feelings for human?
But she must have forgotten one thing, when she was ordering and trying to intimidate him, is that demons are very territorial and jealous of their food - especially the upper moons.
Nakime still had over 72 hours left until you arrived, and she started wondered during that time whether it would be better to just lock you up at Infinity Castle after all.
#request#nakime#kny demons#demon slayer characters#demon#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba#kny nakime#nakime x reader#tw insects#tw blood#tw eating people#tw possession
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Unveiling the Spellbinding Origins of Halloween
Shaina Tranquilino
October 30, 2023
As orange leaves flutter to the ground and jack-o'-lanterns flicker in the night, it's undeniable that Halloween has become a beloved, spine-tingling celebration worldwide. But have you ever wondered about the bewitching origins hiding behind this enchanting holiday? Join us on a captivating journey as we unravel the mysterious history of Halloween.
Ancient Roots:
The roots of Halloween can be traced back over 2,000 years to an ancient Celtic festival called Samhain (pronounced sow-in). Celebrated by the Celts in Ireland, Scotland, and parts of Britain, Samhain marked the end of summer and welcomed the harvest season. On October 31st, they believed that the boundary between the living and dead blurred, allowing spirits to roam freely among them.
Trick-or-Treating Takes Shape:
During Samhain festivities, people would dress in costumes made from animal hides, attempting to ward off evil spirits or disguise themselves from mischievous entities. They also lit bonfires as a form of protection against malevolent forces—a tradition that still echoes today with our glowing Jack-o'-lanterns.
Christian Influence:
In the 9th century A.D., Christianity began spreading throughout Celtic lands. Pope Gregory III designated November 1st as All Saints' Day or All Hallows' Day to honour saints and martyrs who didn't have their own feast day yet. To integrate pagan traditions into Christian practices and discourage Celtic rituals during Samhain, November 1st became known as All Hallows' Eve—the precursor to modern-day Halloween.
Ghostly Evolutions:
As time progressed, various customs blended together to shape Halloween into its present form. In Medieval England, "souling" emerged when beggars went door-to-door offering prayers for departed souls in exchange for food or money—a practice that later inspired modern-day trick-or-treating. Similarly, in Scotland and Ireland, "guising" appeared, with people dressing up in costumes to perform songs, poems, or tricks for treats.
The Immigrant Influence:
Halloween as we know it today found its way to North America through Irish and Scottish immigrants during the 19th century. In the United States, these traditions merged with Indigenous harvest celebrations and other European customs. The result was a uniquely "American Halloween"—a time of community gatherings, parties, parades, and spooky festivities that captured hearts across the nation.
Modern-Day Celebrations:
In recent decades, Halloween has gained immense popularity worldwide. It has evolved into a holiday celebrated by people of all ages—both young and old. Festivities range from creatively carved pumpkins to haunted houses, costume parties to horror movie marathons—all embraced as part of this spirited celebration.
As darkness descends on All Hallows' Eve each year, we're reminded of the fascinating history behind Halloween's enduring magic. From ancient Celtic rituals to religious adaptations and cultural exchanges, this captivating holiday has grown into an enchanting blend of tradition and fun.
So whether you find yourself mesmerized by ghostly tales around a bonfire or joining the chorus of tiny witches and superheroes chanting "trick-or-treat," remember that Halloween is more than just costumes and candy—it's a bewitching journey through time connecting us to centuries-old customs and shared human experiences.
#Halloween#Halloween Origins#Halloween History#Samhain Traditions#Celtic Festivals#Pagan Roots#All Hallows Eve#Ancient Beliefs#Harvest Celebrations#October 31#October#Spooky season#Happy Halloween#Trick or Treat#jack o lantern#spooky#spooky time#hello october#autumm
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For the lady whump - Seraphina + stress position + give them a stimulant?
Author's Notes: ...stretched on the rack counts as a stress position, right? it's a position, it seems pretty stressful...i took some liberties. please heed warnings!
Content Warnings: lady whump, angel whump, torture, stress position, the rack (torture device), drugging, stimulants, dislocated joints, passing out, ambiguous ending
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Seraphina spent the last twenty-four hours uncomfortably curled on the floor of a broom closet. It is one of the only rooms of the old farmhouse still standing. Once bright and thriving, now the farm is just a bitter reminder of a better time for humanity.
What these humans have devised, on the other hand, harkens back to dark times in their history, barbaric behaviors they have re-learned in order to survive their demon-infested world.
It is crude but effective, not unlike the medieval rack. The angel is on her back on an old wooden door. Coarse ropes bind each of her wrists and ankles. When someone turns a handle, the ropes tighten and begin to slowly tug at her slack limbs.
Spending the night crammed into that closet left her crumpled and sore. As her arms, legs and back finally stretch out, she'd be lying if she said it didn't feel good. Seraphina sighs with relief as her stiff joints pop. She wiggles her fingers and toes to get some feeling back into them.
But that's where the contentment ends.
"Please," she blurts out at the first slight strain. Begging does not come easily to the proud angel...until pain is involved.
A few of the humans laugh.
"We haven't even started yet," jeers the one turning the handle.
Flushed with shame, Seraphina turns her head and spits on him.
"You -!" He reels back in disgust, wiping his face.
Then he surges forward again, one arm out. Seraphina braces herself for a blow, but instead the man grabs the handle and gives it a sharp turn.
The ropes - and her limbs - pull taut suddenly and violently enough to tear muscle. It feels like being lit on fire from the inside, all over, all at once. The piercing sound she makes is, quite literally, inhuman. The humans all recoil and cover their ears; the handle turns back the way it came, loosening the ropes once more.
Seraphina slumps back against the door panting. Her head lolls to one side.
"Don't let her - " she hears just as she starts to pass out.
Something pricks her neck.
Mere moments later her eyes open wide. Her heart is racing and her breaths come quicker and quicker.
"What - did - you - do - t-to me - "
"Almost lost you there, princess." The man closest to her pats her cheek. If she had the presence of mind she would bite down on his hand until he was the one begging her.
She doesn't realize that she's cursing aloud until the hand grips her jaw tight, silencing the furious angel.
"That's enough of that. Save your strength. We aren't done with you yet."
Seraphina squeezes her eyes shut so she can't see another man reach for the handle. The ropes pull her to the edge of her body's limit and pause there, waiting for her to catch her breath.
"You'll be...sorry for this..."
In this state she is no longer a threat, but the humans don't know that she isn't the one they need to be worried about. The false sense of security only encourages them to take their time.
Slowly the handle turns. Slowly the ropes tighten. There is no more pleasant stretch, only an ever-present burn in her limbs and torso that worsens with every passing moment. Her pleas and pained sounds fall on deaf ears. Her torturers only pause when she starts to hyperventilate. The moment she is calm, they continue.
Seraphina is still learning the limits of a mortal form. Human bodies are fragile, yet they can withstand the most horrible things. Every time she thinks it has to end soon or I can't take anymore she finds that she can and it doesn't. She expects to be torn in two at the waist at any moment, but what happens instead is so much worse.
Something pops and pain bursts in both of Seraphina's shoulders at once. A spasm runs up her arms and down her back. Her next breath is stolen right from her throat.
None of this deters her captors. A different man takes over turning the handle. If the angel thought it hurt before, that was nothing compared to having her newly dislocated arms stretched as far as they'll go.
It's too much.
Seraphina fails to catch her breath and blacks out. No one notices until the angel's hip dislocating is met with no reaction.
The ropes go still. Two men secure them so their captive is stuck like that, while a third prepares another dose of ephedrine.
As the drug drags her from the comfort of unconsciousness, glass shatters in another room, drawing the humans' attention away. One goes to investigate. A moment later he comes crashing through the drywall.
"What the hell?!"
Too weak to laugh, Seraphina just smiles despite the pain of her reality setting back in.
"Told you," she whispers.
#lady whump#angel whump#torture#torture devices#the rack#drugged#stimulants#pain#dislocation#dislocated limbs#dislocated shoulder#whump writing#my writing#my ocs#seraphina#prompt fill#passing out#unconsciousness
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