on the day of the first gunshot that rang out in front of your own house.
Read in Ao3 : here
Pairings: Silco x f!reader
Fandom : Arcane (TV Series)
Themes : Peaky Blinders AU
Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.
Content waring : Mentions of Domestic Abuse/Drug/Murder, References to Kidnapping, Gang Violence, Death, Injury, PTSD, Racial Slur, Bad Language, Manipulate, Arranged Marriage, Dub-con, Smoking a bit too much.
Tags : Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers, Slow Burn, what's it called when you can't stand the person you're sleeping with?
Summary : In 1920, Zaun is under the rule of the Eye of Zaun, the alias of Silco, a ruthless and cunning crime lord who will do anything for the city's gain and his own, no matter the cost. His ambition to expand his influence into Piltover leads him to you, the key to either his rise or his downfall. This is a story of power, survival, and the underworld, where the last one standing could be the victor or lose everything.
A/N : It’s a Peaky Blinders AU, so it doesn’t follow Arcane canon at all. Some characters are tweaked to fit the vibe, a bit of OOC yeah, but I try to keep Silco as close to canon as I can.
I’m not sure how long this fic will be, maybe around 20 chapters or more. I’ll update every week as long as people are still reading. Don’t worry, I’m not going MIA. I’ll definitely finish it.
In this post we are going to discuss the various and stricking similaries between Sarah J Maas series TOG/ACOTAR with original books she admited to consume, as well as the use of direct lines from movies, books and tv shows in her books, and where do we draw the line in what we consider to be inspiration vs plagiarism.
As some people know, SJM is a big fan of Anne Bishop's work, especifically her Black Jewels trilogy. Some people already noticed similarities between the two series (and in her TOG books as well) in terms of storyline, races and characters, but it's not nearly talked about enough.
It's good to make clear that the first book of "the black jewels" was published in 1998 and the last one of the trilogy was published in 2000, over 12 years before acotar and TOG was even launched. So Bishop's work was around a long time before sjm started to publish her books.
That being said, let's start with the fact that the beginning of her first series TOG is pratically the same as the beginning of the second book of The Black Jewels, Heir to the Shadows, but with a different character:
"After a year of slavery in the Salt Mines of Endovier, Celaena Sardothien was accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point. Most of the thousands of slaves in Endovier received similar treatment—though an extra half-dozen guards always walked Celaena to and from the mines. That was expected by Adarlan’s most notorious assassin. What she did not usually expect, however, was a hooded man in black at her side—as there was now" (TOG, 2012)
"Surrounded by guards, Lucivar Yaslana, the half-breed Eyrien Warlord Prince, walked into the courtyard, fully expecting to hear the order for his execution. There was no other reason for a salt mine slave to be brought to this courtyard, and Zuultah, the Queen of Pruul, had good reason to want him dead. Prythian, the High Priestess of Askavi, still wanted him alive, still hoped to turn him to stud. But Prythian wasn't standing in the courtyard with Zuultah." (Heir to the Shadows, 1999).
So, Sarah's first work begins with a paragraph that is already really really similar to the first one in Bishop's second novel.
Now, let's then move on to the part that shocked me the most and made me sure of doing this post: The extreme and undeniable resemblance between the Illyrians with the Eyriens, a race portrayed in Bishop's Black Jewels books, who one of the main characters, Lucivar (coincidentally or not, Sarah's favorite one) is a part of.
The Eyriens are described to be warriors with tanned skin, gold eyes, and "batlike wings". Eyrien males are trained in hunting camps as children, and the females are forbidden to touch weapons. They are often found in a mountainous territory called "Askavi Terreille", and carry prejudice against half-eyriens. Does all that sounds familiar?
The Illyrians are so much like the Eyriens, it's not even funny. They have bat-like wings, the males are trained in camps, live by the mountains, have their own personalized weapons, and the females are usually mistreated and not allowed to fight. And what does Rhysand suffer from them? Prejudice, because he's half illyrian. Even their physical characteristics are the same: golden brown skin, hazel eyes, black hair. What mainly sets on them apart is their names (which still sound pretty similar) and the fact that the illyrians have tattoos.
"He spread his dark, membranous wings, trying to ease the ache in his back." ( Daughter of the blood, page 12)
"Indeed, it was still Rhysand’s face, his powerful male body, but flaring out behind him were massive black membranous wings—like a bat’s, like the Attor’s" (ACOTAR, page 348)
"Still, it was home, and centuries of enslaved exile had left him aching for the smell of clean mountain air, the taste of a sweet, cold stream, the silence of the woods, and, most of all, the mountains where the Eyrien race soare" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)
"The Illyrians … We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North" (ACOMAF, page 165)
"He had never felt this weary, this beaten. Not as a half-breed boy in the Eyrien hunting camps, not in the countless courts he'd served in over the centuries since" (Heir to the darkness, page 13)
“When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war- camps . To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained" ( ACOMAF, page 168)
”She kept resisting because Eyrien females traditionally didn’t touch a warrior’s weapons" (Queen of the darkness, page 151).
“Some camps issued decrees that if a female was caught training, she was to be deemed unmarriageable. I can’t fight against things like that, not without slaughtering the leaders of each camp and personally raising each and every one of their offspring.” (ACOMAF, page 434)
”There are reasons why Eyrien males are the warriors— Lucivar said, his eyes skimming over the women as he paced slowly down the line and back again.— We’re bigger, stronger, and we have the temperament for killing. You have other strengths and other skills. Most of the time, that works out well." (Queen of Darkness, page 156)
“The Illyrians— Rhys smoothly cut in, that light finally returning to his gaze — Are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.” (ACOMAF, page 166)
"She wanted to cut the wings off, raise the boy as Dhemlan maybe. But he said no, in his soul the boy was Eyrien, and it would be kinder to kill him in the cradle than to cut his wings" (Daughter Of The Blood, page 138)
“I banned wing-clipping a long, long time ago, but … at the more zealous camps, deep within the mountains, they do it." (ACOMAF, page 434).
"But they’re good boys, and they’ll carry their weight. And they are full-blooded Eyriens — he added.
— So they don’t carry the stigma of being half-breeds? — Lucivar asked with deadly control." (Queen of the Darkness, page 39)
"He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed" (ACOMAF, page 136)
"Then he called in his Ebon-gray Jewels and the wide leather belt that held his hunting knife and his Eyrien war blade" (Heir to the shadows, page 257)
"I went from physical defense to learning to wield an Illyrian blade, the weapon so fine, I’d nearly taken Cassian’s arm off." (ACOMAF, page 367)
Some people can look at this as simple inspiration, but others consider the races to be almost identical. Their prejudices, the place they live, the place where they train and how they train being the same, with only a few minor key points being changed.
In Bishop's work men and women are adressed and divided as "males" and "females". Their society is based the existence of jewels, where the darker someone's jewel is, the more powerful that person becomes.
The jewels are close to what SJM called siphons, used by the illyrians. They are a representation of the powers of members of the blood, serve as containers, and vary in colors. Siphons, however, are literally jewels who filter Illyrians powers, manipulating magic. Members of the blood can have more than one jewel, and illyrians can have more than one siphon.
"An uncut Jewel is a rare thing, little Sister — Titian said, removing something from the box. — Wait until you know who you are before you have it set. Then it will be more than a receptacle for the power your body can't hold; it will be a statement of what you are." (Daughter of the blood, page 71)
"He held up his hands, the backs to me so both jewels were on full display.— They’re called Siphons . They concentrate and focus our power in battle.” (ACOMAF, page 162)
"The Black-Jeweled ring on his right hand glittered with an inner fire." (Daughter of the blood, page 39)
"Siphons atop his scarred hands flickered like rippling blue fire as he reached for the Attor." (ACOMAF, page 262)
" Your fingers clenched around that Jewel. There was a flash of Red light, and the guards were flung backward." ( Daughter of the blood, page 136)
"Cassian lifted his hand into the air. Red light exploded from his Siphon, blasting up and away" (ACOMAF, page 543)
"Her strength was gone. The Jewel hungaround her neck, dark and empty" (Daughter of the blood, page 399)
"Azriel’s blue Siphons were dull, muted. Utterly empty." (ACOMAF, page 554)
The Blood possess some ability to sense and mask their psychic scent. The conception of "scent" not only acts as a way for them to recognize each other, but also sense their emotions, and seems to be highlighted between couples, with Daemon for using it in order to fantasize or look for Jaenelle. That matches perfectly SJM's universe where the Fae are able to feel each others scents, sensing their emotions through it, it being stronger between mated couples:
"The psychic scent was almost gone, but he recognized it. A dark scent. A powerful, terrifying, wonderful scent. He breathed deeply, and the lifetime hunger in him became intense".(Daughter of the blood, page 178).
"Like the body that housed it, a witch's psychic scent had a muskiness that a Blood male could find as arousing as the body—if not more so" (Daughter of the blood, page 184)
His scent drifted to her, darker, muskier than usual. She’d bet all the money she didn’t have that it was the scent of his arousal. (ACOSF, page 235)
"A room where she had slept would still be strong with her psychic scent, even if it had been cleaned" (Daughter of the blood, page 182)
"Cassian had flown back up to the House. And found the oak door to the stairs open, Nesta’s scent lingering." (ACOSF, page 99)
"No psychic scent of emotions for the guards to play with as they put the sobbing man into the old, one-man boat." (Daughter of the blood, page 149)
"He didn’t need to use a psychic probe to know who was on the other side of the door. The scent of her fear was sufficient." (Queen of the darkness, page 120)
"Their faces were vacant. Not a trace of fear in them, or in their scents." (ACOSF, page 344)
"Those of us who have would notice the similarities in your psychic scents and reach the correct conclusion" ( Queen of Darkness, page 114)
"He didn’t believe me. So he grabbed Catrin, because our scents were nearly identical, you see" (ACOSF, page 652)
The basic unit of Blood society and government is a Queen and her Court. To create a Court, she must be at the age of majority and have twelve males who agree to be in her First Circle. Jaenelle creates hers in the second book, who is denominated as the "dark court". How is Rhysan's court called? The night court. How is his unity of power named? "the inne circle". Rhysand's court is also referred as "the court of dreams", and Jaenelle is called "dreams made flesh".
"He hoped she'd be pleased to have the use of this place. He hoped he'd be invited when she established her own court. He wanted to see whom she selected for her First Circle" (Daughter of the Blood page 92)
"They’re Rhysand’s Inner Circle.The ones I’d heard mentioned that day at the Night Court—who Rhys kept going to meet." (ACOMAF, page 135)
"The living myth— Saetan whispered.— Dreams made flesh— His throat tightened. He closed his eyes." (Heir to the shadows, page 459)
“And what is this court? — I asked, gesturing to them. The most important question.
It was Cassian, eyes clear and bright as his Siphon, who said — The Court of Dreams.”
Remember Lucivar? The main Eyrien character? Well, it doesn't help sjm's case that he's incredibly similar to Cassian:
Because he's an eyrien, Lucivar was raised as a warrior and has bat wings, together with gold eyes and tanned skin. He also has long black hair and is considered to be well-built. Initially his jewels are birthright red, and later they descent into being ebon grey. Just like his father, he is known as having an explosive temper who often lead him to trouble. Thanks to him not being recognized by Saetan initially, Lucivar is seen as a bastard. This is not at all far from how Cassian is written.
Let's also keep in mind: Lucivar is also responsable for recruting and training Eyrien warriors in the Dark Court, later training the women who live in Ebon Askavi (which, as I will show later, is almost identical to the House of Wind).
Cassian's tragetory is marked by him being underlooked as a "bastard" and not being able to control his temper, and that is further developed in acosf. His appereance is carbon-copy of Lucivar (the only difference being that his eyes are hazel), and his siphons are red. He also happens to train illyrian warriors, and later Feyre, Nesta and the other priestesses from the library. Like Lucivar has a brotherly bond with Jaenelle and waits for her to be his queen, Cassian has a brotherly love for Feyre and respects her as his high lady:
"Unlike the other slaves who couldn't contain their misery or fear, there was no expression in Lucivar's gold eyes" (Daughter of the Blood, page 13)
"Like their High Lord, the males—warriors—were dark-haired, tan-skinned. But unlike Rhys, their eyes were hazel and fixed on me as I at last stepped close" (ACOMAF, page 155)
"She looked so pale against his light-brown skin, and he knew it wasn't simply because she was fair-skinned" (Daughter of the blood, page 19)
"She watched his light brown fingers play against her pale skin" (ACOSF, page 367)
"The man wore a leather vest and the black, skintight trousers favored by Eyrien warriors. His black hair fell to his shoulders, which was unusual for an Eyrien male. [..] A wild joy filled Daemon, even as his heart clogged his throat and tears stung his gold eyes. Lucivar." (Queen of the Darkness, page 45)
"Cassian surveyed Rhys from head to foot, his shoulder-length black hair shifting with the movement" (ACOMAF, page 155)
"Because he was a half-breed bastard, he had no hope of attaining a position of authority within a court, despite the rank of his jewels" (Daughter of the Blood, page 17)
"I can tell you how I hear Eris and Devlon and the others talk and, deep down, I still believe that I am a worthless bastard brute. That it doesn’t matter how many Siphons I have or how many battles I’ve won" (ACOSF, page 434)
"Tears stung Lucivar's eyes. Why, Daemon? What did she do to deserve being hurt like that? His voice rose. He couldn't stop it. She was the Queen we had dreamed of serving. We had waited for her for so long. You butchering whore, why did you have to kill her?" (Heir to the shadows, page 31)
"He’d thought about that painting a great deal in the days afterward—how it had made him feel, how close they’d all come to losing their High Lady before they’d ever met her." (ACOSF, page 43)
"Because he was a trained Eyrien warrior and had a temper that was explosive even for a Warlord Prince" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)
"Cassian was lounging in his chair, a glass of wine in his hand, staring at nothing. A brooding warrior-prince, contemplating the death of his enemies." (ACOSF, page 275)
"He could have caught him on the first pass. The young one will have to concede the battle, but it’ll stay in his mind that he put up a good fight. No, Lucivar understands how to train an Eyrien warrior.” (Queen of Darkness, page 103)
"Cassian prayed that the gods were watching over him as Rhys sipped from his tea and said,
—You’re ready?
He leaned back in his seat. — I’ve gotten young warriors in line before." (ACOSF, page 43)
There's even a line when Lucivar is training the women in ebon askavi that hits very close to one used when Cassian is training the priestesses:
”If you can become half as proficient with this as she is, you’ll be able to take down any male except an Eyrien warrior — Falonar said slowly. — And you’ll be able to take down half of them as well.” (Queen of the darkness, page 158)
"Cassian continued to train Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn. The rain didn’t let up, and they were all soaked, but the exertion kept the bite of the cold away.— So this can really down a male in one move? [...] He concentrated on the females in front of him. — This move will knock anyone unconscious if you hit the right spot.” (ACOSF, page 385)
Daemon, his brother, is too very similar to Rhysand. He has the reputation of a sadist, after being tortured and used as slave in the hands of Dorotothea, close to how Rhys was known as a cruel fae who had to serve Amarantha (the way they a called is also pretty much the same, as well, being referred as their "pet" or "whore"). Daemon believes to be destined to Jaenelle, even before meeting her, sometimes feeling her touch, and dreaming or her, just like Rhysand talks about knowing Feyre was his mate, and dreaming of her before they met. He, like Saetan, Jaenelle, and Lucivar, is a black widow: which means he can access people's minds and thoughts, as well as communicate telephatically, exactly how daemanti in acotar have the ability to do.
"His face was a gift of his mysterious heritage, aristocratic and too beautifully shaped to be called merely handsome. He was tall and broad-shouldered. He kept his body well toned and muscular enough to please. His voice was deep and cultured, with a husky, seductive edge to it that made women go all misty-eyed. His gold eyes and thick black hair were typical of all three of Terreille's long-lived races, but his warm, golden-brown skin was a little lighter than the Hayllian aristos—more like the Dhemlan race." (Daughter of the blood, page 24)
"I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers" (ACOTAR, page 193)
"I had no answer to that—to the tenor in his rich, deep voice. So I examined the tattoos on his chest and arms, the glow of his tan skin , so golden now that he was no longer caged inside that mountain." (ACOMAF, page 289)
"Daemon smiled that cold, cruel smile. "Now you know what it's like to get into bed with Hayll's Whore." (Daughter of the blood, page 77)
"Lucien interrupted — What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.
— Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” (ACOTAR, page 239)
"In his soul, he knew her. In his dreams, he saw her. He never envisioned a face. It always blurred if he tried to focus on it. But he could see her dressed in a robe made of dark, transparent spidersilk, a robe that slid from her shoulders as she moved, a robe that opened and closed as she walked, revealing bare, night-cool skin. And there would be a scent in the room that was her, a scent he would wake to, burying his face in her pillow after she was up and attending her own concerns." (Daughter of the Blood, page 27)
“Three years ago, he said quietly, — I began to have these … dreams [...] The images were foggy, like looking through cloudy glass. They were brief—a flash here and there, every few months. I thought nothing of them, until one of the images was of a hand … This beautiful, human hand. Holding a brush. Painting—flowers on a table.” (ACOMAF, page 504)
“I saw you through your dreams—and I hoarded the images [...] I’d wake up with your scent in my nose, and it would haunt me all day, every step." (ACOMAF, page 505)
"There was a bitter taste in Daemon's mouth. The ashes of dreams. After all, he was Hayll's Whore, a pleasure slave, an amusement for the ladies no matter what their age, a way to pass the time" (Daughter of the blood, page 267)
"And he would be at that table in the town house, roaring with laughter—never again cold and cruel and solemn. Never again anyone’s slave or whore" (ACOMAF, page 497)
"You're my Queen,he thought fiercely. His body ached. She was his Queen. But with her family surrounding them, watching, there was nothing he could say or do to help her" (Daughter of the blood, page 360)
"My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen." (ACOMAF, 598)
"He caught her wrists, holding her off with an ease that made her scream. He hit the Black shields on her inner barriers hard enough to make her work to keep them intact, but they wouldn't keep him out for long." (Daughter of the blood, page 302)
"My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge—unless they’re very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight." (ACOMAF, page 59)
At some point Daemon is even called Jaenelle's mate:
"He’s here! Jaenelle’s mate is finally here! Daemon felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him" (Heir to the shadows, page 117)
His position and title of highlord is parallelled a lot by how Saetan is decribed:
"High Lord of Hell, the Prince of the Darkness, the most powerful and dangerous Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood" (Daughter of the darkness, page 266)
"For what it’s worth, I’m the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history" (ACOMAF, page 145)
Moving on to other similarities, Ebon Askavi, known as the black mountain or "the keep", who is put as a sanctuary, keeping a library containing the history of the blood, matches the form in which the house of wind is developed in sjm's books, with the palace also being embedded into a mountain. The Keep is a safe place where the high lord of hell reserves for the demon dead to rest, same as Rhysand turning the library into a home for the priestesses. And the whole Bryaxis situation? A creature who lives in the pit of the library? Well, Ebon askavi used to be the home of the prince of dragons: Lorn, who guess what? Used to reside beneath it. Finally, Bishop literally describes the palace as the place where "The winds meet".
"Saetan limped across the empty courtyard to the huge, open-metal doors embedded into the mountain itself, rang the bell, and waited to enter the Keep, the Black Mountain, Ebon Askavi, where the Winds meet. It was the repository for the Blood's history as well as a sanctuary for the darkest-Jeweled Blood. It was also the private lair of Witch" (Daughter of the blood, page 59)
"Draca led him through the corridors of Ebon Askavi toward a large stairwell that descended into the heart of the mountain." ( Daughter of the blood, page 431)
“Her throat closed at the surge of memories and at the sprawling view—the glimmering ribbon of the Sidra far below, the red-stoned palace built into the side of the flat-topped mountain itself." (ACOSF, page 49).
“I made this library into a refuge for them. Some come to heal, work as acolytes, and then leave; some take the oaths to the Cauldron and Mother to become priestesses and remain here forever" (ACOWAR, page 212)
"She still served the Keep itself, looking after the comfort of the scholars who came to study, of the Queens who needed a dark place to rest" (Daughter of the Blood, page 61)
"— Who was here before them?
— A few cranky old scholars, who cursed me soundly when I relocated them to other libraries in the city. They still get access, but when and where is always approved by the priestesses.” (ACOWAR, page 213)
“There is a creature beneath the library. Do you know it?
Amren shut the book.
— Its name is Bryaxis.
— What is it.
— You do not want to know, girl.” (ACOWAR, page 452).
"Mother Night, Saetan — Geoffrey said, his breathing ragged. — The Keep is his lair.
He's been here all the time.
He hadn't expected Lorn to be so big. "(Heir to the shadows, page 476)
As for Amren being a unknown creature who was tuned into a faerie and lived centuries before everyone else? Same thing as Draca. She lived by the time Dragons ruled the world and was later turned into something "human", assisting the high lord of hell:
"When only the Queen and her Prince, Lorn, were left, the Queen bid her Consort farewell [...] When the last scale fell from her, she vanished. Some stories say her body was transformed into some other shape, though it still contained a dragon's soul" (Heir to the shadows, page 375).
"— Why won’t Amren go in here?
— Because she was once a prisoner.
— Not in that body, I take it.
A cruel smile.
— No. Not at all.” (ACOMAF, page 185)
"Spiraling? — Geoffrey thought for a moment and shook his head. — No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Ask Draca. Compared to her, you're still in the nursery and I'm just a stripling." (Daughter of the blood, page 243)
"In the countless millennia they had existed here in Prythian, Rhys—Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes ...And Amren was worse. And older than five thousand years." (ACOMAF, page 145)
"When they had first arrived at the Keep, Lucivar had given him a cryptic warning: Draca is a dragon in human form.The moment he’d seen the Seneschal, he’d understood what Lucivar meant. Her looks, combined with the feel of great age and old, deep power, had fascinated him." (Queen of the darkness, page 252)
"Because even though the short, delicate woman looked like High Fae … as Rhys had warned me, every instinct was roaring to run. To hide. [...] But Amren’s eyes …Her silver eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen; a glimpse into the creature that I knew in my bones wasn’t High Fae. Or hadn’t been born that way." (ACOMAF, page 158)
"Draca asked. Her unblinking reptilian eyes revealed nothing" (Daughter of the blood, page 431)
You can also find some of the names of characters and places of Anne Bishop's books in Sarah J Mass ones. For instance: Sarah admited Prythian was a trick on Pryddain from the chronicles of Pryddain but that she couldn't put the original name because it belonged to Phillip Alexander, so she choose Prythian. But one of the high priestesses in Bishop's trilogy is indeed named Prythian.
"Prythian, Askavi's High Priestess, couldn't leash his temper enough to serve witches he despised" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)
If you look at the titles of some of the TOGs books, you realize they are alike Anne Bishop's as well:
The thing is: where do we draw the line when it comes to inspiration in books? It's common to have some similarities between author's works, however, to have that many in lines, places, plots, on top of races and characters who are nearly identical to the ones someone created fourteen years before you? I don't know.
I don't appreciate Bishop's work, in fact, I suffered a lot to go through the trilogy, for problems like: explicit sexual violence, mutilation, and worst of all grooming (Daemon meets his so called soulmate when she's a child, and he kisses her when she's 12), which literally made feel sick, but, is clear Bishop came up with a lot of things a long time before SJM did.
Because her series of books came out by the 2000, most of sjm's target audience doesn't know Bishop's work, making it very easy to avoid comparison. This is one of the reasons why this situation becomes a big problem, because most of her fans think SJM work is totally original, and that she came up with 99% of the concepts by herself.
Besides the black jewels, Sarah was said to have taking scenes, plots and quotes from other original productions/books, like the lord of the rings (which she's also a huge fan):
For example, The White Tree of Gondor and Kingsflame.
The White Tree of Gordon only blooms when the rightful ruler sits on the throne. Coming to later bloom in Aragorn's coronation:
"And so the kingdom of Gondor sank into ruin, the line of kings failed, the white tree withered and the rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."
Kingsflame, however, it’s a magical flower that first bloomed when Brannon arrived, proof that was a good king:
"since those ancient days, only single blossoms had been spotted, so rare in their appearance that their appearance was deemed a sign that the land had blessed whatever ruler sat on Terrasen’s throne. (KOA 686)"
Similarly, the flower also blooms after Aelin’s Coronation:
Across every mountain, spread across the green canopy of Oakwald, carpeting the entire Plain of Theralis, the kingsflame was blooming. (KOA 984)
We also have the scene when Haldir arrives at helms deep:
"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."
While Manon says this in KOA:
"Long ago the Crochans fought beside Terrasen, to honor the great debt we owed the Fae King Brannon for granting us a homeland."(KOA, page 693)
And don't forget, Aragorn saying:
"My friends, you bow to no one"
While Rhysand says this in ACOWAR:
"You bow to no one, was all he replied"
Don't forget, the conversation between Theoden and Gamling in the Two Towers movie:
"Theoden: Who am I, Gamling?
Gamling : You are our king, sire.
Theoden : And do you trust your king?
Gamling : Your men, my Lord, will follow you to whatever end.
Theoden : To whatever end... "
Followed by this conversation between Rowan and Aelin:
“—To whatever end? — she breathed.
Rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. —“To whatever end, Fireheart.”
We also have other examples, like treasure island:
"Look at you! Glowing like a solar fire. You're something special, Jim. You're gonna rattle the stars, you are!" (Treasure Island-2003)
"You could rattle the stars," she whispered. "You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most. "( TOG page 385, chapter 54)
ASOIAF:
A quite similar phrase to "Queen that was promised" was used in GRRM’s ASOIAF, where an ancient prophecy talked about a "Prince who was promised", later it being reveleaded that they expected a boy, but the title was said to fall to Daenarys Targaryen (a queen). This is mentioned in " A dance of dragons" which was published in 2011. This prince is also mentioned as being “the Heir of Fire”.
"Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the prince that was promised, Lord of Dragonstone and chosen of R'hllor" ( A dance with dragons, 2011)
"Perhaps it had all been for nothing. The Queen Who Was Promised" (KOA, page 121, 2018)
"He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I." (A dance with dragons, page 949, 2011)
"Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh." (ACOWAR, 2017)
Harry Potter is added to list, as well:
Dumbledore: Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love. (HP and the deathly hallows, page 705, 1997).
Rhysand: Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all. (ACOTAR, page 418, 2012).
"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." (Harry Potter and the prisioner of Azkaban, 2004)
“Light can be found even in the darkest of hells” (ACOWAR, page 577, 2017)
The movie spirit:
Little Creek: Take care of her, Spirit-who-could-not-be-broken (Spirit, 2002)
Nehemia: I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Cannot Be Broken.' (TOG, page 44)
Shadow and Bone:
The quote "like calls to like" explains one of the most important plot points in shadow and bone, the first book was published in 2012, and Sarah was mentioned in Leigh's acknowledgments as the person who gave her first review. She had used "magic calls to magic" before in throne of glass in 2012, yet the book was published in august, while Shadow and Bone came out before, in june. The principle of "like calls to like" in her books was mentioned by the time ACOMAF came out, in 2016, four years later. It was also used to describe attraction to objects of power, which follows Bardugo's concept.
Shadow and Bone: The grounding principle of the Small Science was “like calls to like" (page 113)
ACOMAF: The box—the Book—was silent. Then it said, Like calls to like (page 350)
“The Grisha claims the amplifier, but the amplifier claims the Grisha, as well. Once it is done, there can be no other. Like calls to like, and the bond is made.” (page 130)
The movie troy:
"Menelaus : Prince? What prince? What son of a king would accept a man's hospitality, eat his food, drink his wine, embrace him in friendship, and then steal his wife in the middle of the night?
Paris : The sun was shining when your wife left you." (Troy, 2004)
“If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.
I said quietly, The sun was shining when I left you.” (ACOWAR, page 396, 2017)
The Land before Time:
"Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart." ( The Land before Time 1988)
"Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart."( Crown of Midgnight, page 168, 2011)
Mulan:
"Shan Yu: How many men does it take to deliver a message?
The other Hun: One.
The Hun proceeds to shoot one of the imperial soldiers with an arrow." (Mulan, 1998)
“But it seems like tonight isn’t really your night, Elide said to the ilken, lifting the hatchet again over a shoulder. The ilken might have been whimpering as she smiled grimly.—Because it only takes one to deliver a message. And your companions are already on their way.
The axe fell.
Flesh and bone and blood spilled onto the stones.” (Empire of Storms, page 455, 2016)
There's more to show about the black jewels, but this posts is already huge, so I'm going to finish by talking a little bit about her new series: Crescent city, which people already pointed out to be similar to another series she also talked about before: The Fever series by Karn Marie Moning, published in 2007. Now, I don't think is the same case as the black jewels, because crescent city does follow a much more different story, but is still have matching characters and main storyline.
Darkfever tells the story of MacKayla, a girl who seemingly had a perfect life. After the murder of her sister, she sees herself obligated to make an alliance with the mysterious Jericho in order find her killer, whilst exploring her sidhe-seer powers. Crescent city, on the other hand, is also about a girl losing people close to her: her best friend and her crush, then deciding to solve their deaths by teaming up with the fallen angel Hunt.
Mackayla is a sidhe seer, a person who can see fae, and ends up in the book series as their queen, while Bryce is half fae. They are both extremely attractive girls, who love to party and take good care of their appereance. Jericho, however, is a handsome, tough supernatural being who resources to Mac in order to find answers, ending up getting involved with her. Lastly, Hunt is a fallen angel, who needs to make sure Bryce cooperates with the investigation, and develops feelings for her.
"My sister's whole body had holes in it, Inspector! Not just her arms! The coroner said they looked like teeth marks! — Not of any person or animal he'd been able to identify, though.— And parts of her were just fora!— I was shaking. I hated the memory. It made me sick to my stomach" (Dark Fever, page 71)
"She knew in her bones it was not a hallucination, what lay on that bed, knew in her bones that what bled out inside her chest was her heart. Danika lay there. In pieces" (Crescent City, page 74)
"Grieving wasn't going to bring her back, and it sure wasn't going to make me feel better about whoever'd killed her walking around alive out there somewhere, happy in their sick little psychotic way, while my sister lay icy and white beneath six feet of dirt" (Dark Fever, page 10)
"Briggs planned to hurt people, and he deserved to be in jail, but—he’d been wrongly accused of the murder.Danika’s killer was still out there" (Crescent City, page 145)
"I think I just finally expelled the last drop of moisture from my body that wasn't absolutely necessary to keep me alive. And rage watered my parched soul. I wanted answers. I wanted justice.I wanted revenge." (Dark fever, page 11)
"She didn’t know where to start.But she’d do it. Find whoever had done this.[...] She ground her teeth. She’d find whoever had done this and make them regret ever being born." (Crescent City, page 164)
Once again, Hunt has the exact same appeareance as Jericho, and their personalities are also pretty much alike.
"He studied me with his predator's gaze, assessing me from head to toe. I studied him back. He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it.The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him. About thirty, six foot two or three, he had dark hair, golden skin, and dark eyes. His features were strong, chiseled." (Dark Fever, page 36)
"An angel who reason and history reminded him was an ally, though every instinct roared the opposite.Predator. Killer. Monster. Hunt Athalar’s angular dark eyes, however, remained fixed on the window. On Bryce Quinlan." (House of earth and blood, page 80)
"Hunt nodded once, his golden-brown face betraying nothing." (House of earth and blood, page 81)
"Then the male leafed through Quinlan’s thin file, his shoulder-length black hair slipping over his unreadable face." (House of earth and blood, page 81)
Darkfever presentd V'lane as a third character, an attractive seelie prince, who rules the Tuatha Dé Dannan, and happens to go after Mackayla as revenge against Jericho. In crescent city, there third main character is Ruhn, Bryce's half brother, and who is he? A crowned prince of the fae. And what is his last name? Danaan.
"Even today, after all that I've seen, I couldn't begin to describe V'lane, prince of the Tuatha Dé Danaan." (Dark Fever, page 134)
"Thinking she’d get a nice, sweaty ride with a Prince of the Fae, she’d be sorely disappointed. He was in no shape for fucking right now." (Crescent city, page 199)
“I got a phone call, Naomi said. From Ruhn fucking Danaan. He’s livid that we didn’t notify Sky and Breath about bringing in the girl." (Crescent city, page 96)
The scene where Hunt goes to watch over Bryce in her apartment follows the exact same patterns of the scene Jericho goes to visit Mackayla in her home:
"A moment later, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Right as her show began.She didn’t know the number, but she wasn’t at all surprised when she picked up, plopping down onto the cushions, and Hunt growled,
— Open the curtains. I want to watch the show.” (Crescent city, page 84)
"Someone knocking at my door awakened me [...] I glanced at my watch. It was two o'clock in the morning. I was sleepy and grumpy and didn't try to disguise it.
—Who is it?
— Jericho Barrons." (Dark Fever, page 40)
“Open the curtains.
— No, thank you.
— Or you could invite me in and make my job easier.
— Definitely no.
—Why?
— Because you can do your job just as well from that roof.” (Crescent City; page 184)
"Do you intend to open this door, Ms. Lane, or shall we converse where anyone might attend our business? [...]. If he was willing to trade, I had to open that door. Unless…
— We can trade through the door, I said.
— No
— Why not?
— I am a private person, Ms. Lane. This is not negotiable." (Dark Fever, page 41)
"His dark eyes didn’t so much as blink. Striking—that was the only word Bryce could think of to describe his handsome face, full of powerful lines and sharp cheekbones. — You can make this investigation easy, or you can make it hard.” (Crescent City, page 187)
" When I said nothing, he said softly — If you are not with me, Ms. Lane, you are against me. I have no mercy for my enemies.
I shrugged." (Dark Fever, page 46)
So, I do believe SJM is the type author whose actions we need to discuss. Even if you see the whole thing with " The black jewels" is just an inspiration, you can't deny the fact there some exact lines of movies and books in her work. Plus: it's not just one quote or just one plot, but many.
If you ever try to read The Black Jewels trilogy you'll notice much more than what I brought in this post, and I do hope more people are able to research it. However, if you have any triggers regarding SA, mutil*tion, abuse, gr*mming, or torture scenes, I strongly recommend you do not read these books. They are not easy to go through, and the same thing goes to Dark Fever, although is a lot lighter.
Now, you can find more about the "Lord of the rings" and "Harry Potter" situation in here:
As I’ve been working on my reviews for the Throne of Glass series (you can see them all here), I’ve started to notice something. I’d noticed
Empire of Storms by Sarah J. Maas Pages: 693 Published: September 6th 2016 Publisher: Bloomsbury USA Goodreads Rating: 4.59/5 My Rating: 4/5
This is not a post trying to "cancel" sjm or simply attack her without reason. But I do believe we have to talk about her work and the problems with it, especially when it involves the work of other writers. If anyone has any more examples, or articles about this matter, quote this post with them if you can. I couldn't put more because you have a limit for tumblr posts, and it would be way too much. Anyway, thank you sticking here until the end.
Fic: I will dream of you (Daeron 'the drunken' Targaryen x OFC)
Fandom: A knight of the seven kingdoms (TV series)
Chapter 1 - introduction
Summary: Despite all of nightmares he had encounter, at least there was still good dreams when he dreamt of her. But if all his nightmares were real, then why weren't the dreams of her real as well?
AO3
(English is not my first language and I wrote this so I could prepare myself for midterm exam peacefully)
Daeron became aware his dreams weren't just dreams...
The dream sequences began as far back as he could remember. As a child, all he could do was seek solace from his mother. Her gentle warmth seemed to ward off a chilling evil. She reassured him that it was just a dream, that it would disappear upon waking. She said it was merely a nightmare, something everyone experiences on some nights.
When he had a nightmare, he should wake up, wash his face, and forget it then move on...
But even so, it never truly went away. Worse still, every dream he had seemed to come true. Dreams he couldn't explain to anyone, dreams that made him unable to distinguish between reality and illusion. He could not tell where he was, which timeline he was living.
Sometimes it was as if the terrible events had already happened and were over. When he woke up, those terrible things hadn't occurred yet; instead, he or those around him were heading towards disaster, until then those nightmare became a reality. As if everything eventually manifested itself to that disaster.
And sometimes, he would dream these same dreams over and over again, driving him almost insane. But at least his mother was still there, listening and understanding him. Or even his siblings, looking at him with those innocent eyes, or Aemon himself, who kindly promised to find a way to fix his nightmares. These things were enough to prevent him from thinking life was so terrible.
Another thing that seemed to alleviate his suffering, besides those nightmares, was the dream of someone he couldn't identify. The first time he had such a dream was when he was old enough to wield a real sword.
In that dream, he, having just witnessed fire and smelled the stench of blood, the curse of recurring dreams, found the scene transform into an unfamiliar place. The chaos from moments before subsided at ease. The scent of flowers, grass, and even the wind were vivid in every sense, as if soothing him. He saw a young girl, about the same age as him and the Valarr, perhaps no more than two years younger. She was digging in the dirt without a care in the world, unaffected by the dirt on her clothes.
Normally, in all his dreams, he was merely an observer of tragedy. This time, he thought it would be no different. He could only gaze at her face. He didn't recognize her. There was nothing about her face that resembled a Targaryen trait. Her hair was a shimmering ginger in the sunlight, and her determined blue-green eyes...
No fireballs fell from nowhere, no monsters attacked her. It remained the same image of her digging in the earth.
Strange...
Daeron tilted his head slightly, crossing his arms and leaning against a small tree. Suddenly, the girl with the blue-green eyes turned sharply towards him, staring as if she could see him clearly. She stood up, brushed dirt from her skirt, and tilted her head slightly as if wondering who he was. She walked directly towards him.
Daron was startled. He never thought anyone could see him in a dream. But when she moved her lips as if to ask who he was, he heard nothing.
The girl spoke again, but he still couldn't hear her. Her questioning and frustrated expression softened when he shook his head and replied. She seemed to strain to hear, and he realized she couldn't hear him either. She sighed softly and shook her head, giving up on the idea of asking him politely.
So she communicated with him through her fists...
Daeron was shocked a second time.
He was a prince! But then, some unknown girl punched him in the shoulder. It wasn't a hard punch, but her boldness was extraordinary. She grabbed his wrist and, being stubborn, led him to help her dig in the soil. Her stubbornness was so obvious that even silence couldn't hide it. Finally, he had to reluctantly help her dug.
After digging a little, she carefully placed a seedling in the hole. Its green sprouts swayed in the breeze. Her satisfied smile was gentle, and the look in her eyes as she gazed at the seedling was tender, a stark contrast to her earlier willful expression.
Daeron was puzzled. He tried to look at her more closely, searching for clues in her clothing to determine her house. He saw gold necklaces and bracelets on her wrists, and her hair was neatly styled. She didn't seem like just an ordinary villager, but rather someone from a noble family. Yet, he couldn't see enough to deduce her identity.
That was the first dream of her. He woke up feeling different from all the others. He decided to tell his mother about it. His mother smiled, relieved that at least he was finally having normal dreams like other children.
“She seems quite stubborn,”
that’s what his mother said, and he agreed.
“But she has a kind heart,”
he agreed with that as well.
His mother was relieved. She always talked to all her children, including about his troubles from his dreams and various pressures. Even though his mother comforted him and was relieved this time, she called it a good dream, a good sign that he might be free from the curse of nightmares.
But he kept the truth to himself: when he woke up, he felt the dampness on his fingertips, like the feeling of digging in the dirt in his dream was real, not just a good dream at all.
At that time, he thought it was just a coincidence. He would never have the chance to see her again in his dreams. He and good dreams were never truly familiar to each other.
Yet he dreamed of her again, though not as often as in his nightmares, but he still encountered her in his dreams.
Sometimes he would secretly watch her. Sometimes she would see him and try to talk to him. Yet, he never heard her voice. Sometimes, She would invite him to play, or sometimes, on days when he was tormented by nightmares, she would appear as if she had seen the entire terrifying dream, and casually lead him away by the hand.
She might be a saint who helps children from nightmares… his mother said so.
But he didn't know how to tell his mother that the saint she spoke of seemed to have grown taller since his last dream.
For Daeron, it was strange that the silence between him and the girl in his dream wasn't so bad. Even though they never heard each other's voices, he felt a growing familiarity with her. He started wanting to went to bed sooner and wake up late, just to play with her a little longer. He wanted to fall into a deep sleep so he could pretend to lie on her lap or rest his head on her shoulder, to see her lovely lips pout.
He seemed to be adapting to both the nightmares and the indescribable feelings.
Until the day his mother was gone…
The warmth that seemed like a light in his family disappeared, leaving only coldness. He had to become the eldest brother, taking care of his younger siblings who were causing more and more trouble each day, especially Aerion, who was becoming more and more violent. He himself, already haunted by nightmares, had to endure it all. He tried to be a reliable support for his younger siblings, but day by day, his mental state was almost completely depleted.
His nightmares became more vivid. He prayed that at least he would see her again.
On the day he cried, he saw her again in his dream. She was now a young woman. He had never seen anyone in his life as beautiful as her. He remembered the caring look in her eyes, the warmth of her embrace and comfort. Even though she couldn't hear or know what he had lost, it was as if just the sadness in his eyes was enough for her to care.
He remembered himself holding her tightly as if afraid he would wake up and never see her again. He buried his face in her small shoulder. Her unique, fainted scent enveloped him. Her hands gently rub his back. His tears soaked her dress. He cried all night until he woke up with teary eyes, his breath catching in his throat.
He realized he needed her.
If all his nightmares were real, then why weren't the dreams of her real?
Every time he woke, the warmth of her filled him with longing. Her touch lingered on his skin. Even though it wasn't a nightmare, that gentleness was haunting him.
He tried to find her, but even the most skilled painters couldn't accurately depict her as he described. The drawings didn't even come close to those warm eyes; the colors they used couldn't match her radiant beauty. He searched for the daughters of nobles or high-ranking officials who might resemble her, but all he found was emptiness.
The nightmares haunted him, and the feeling in his heart was constricted, unable to find the missing piece of his soul.
Then, he chose to endure the nightmares alone, without her.
Daron began to drink more. If he passed out, he wouldn't have to dream—neither the nightmares nor her. If that happened, he might be able to come to terms with it, avoid the haunting nightmares, and the pain of possessing something so wonderful that he couldn't hold it close. This would be better.
He began to sink deeper, searching for a woman who could at least offer him warmth, deceiving himself into believing he was embracing her. It was selfish, but if she didn't exist, then he wasn't betraying anyone. He was simply healing himself in his own way.
Until that night, the night he got drunk and slept with a prostitute. He dreamt of her again.
This time, it was as if the dream wanted to humiliate him. His clothes were disheveled, no different from when he'd been indulge himself with a prostitute.
And she, seeing him like that, seemed to understand what was happening. Her eyes welled up with tears, as if heartbroken. He was ashamed and wanted to explain, yet he was also angry.
Angry that she had done this to him, that she had made him like her, that she had haunted him. But when he woke up, she was gone.
She definitely ruined him for her.
“Enough! You have to let me go! Don’t you think I’m going crazy? I’m trying to live my life. I miss you but I can’t even have you! Just let me go!”
He shouted, furiously. She was startled, but when he realized he had yelled at her, even though they couldn’t hear each other, he knew his demeanor had frightened her.
She slapped him, then hugged him and cried. She stroked his head gently, kissed his temple as if wanting to apologize for causing him so much suffering. She murmured something he couldn’t hear.
And that was the last time he dreamt of her.
Daeron felt immense guilt. Her tenderness only intensified his longing for her, for someone he didn’t know. He didn't know if she really existed or not. He wanted to apologize to her again. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to admit his own faults. He dared to yell at her, but he never yelled at his nightmares.
But he never saw her again in his dreams...
“Daeron, are you ready?”
The small voice of his youngest brother spoke up. Aegon walked in, looking at his older brother who seemed lost in thought and at the woman's hair ornament that Daeron seemed to have had made a long time ago. Aegon knew what his brother did, as adults often do. His brother seemed to have someone he liked, but he never gave this to anyone. He knew Daeron had tried to find someone, but he never successful.
He saw his brother in a state of heartbreak, mixed with a wandering spirit, a normal sight. Almost a lost soul.
“Hmm, I’m ready.”
Daron tucked the hair ornament into his pocket before getting up and leaving with Aegon. His father, Prince Maekar had ordered him and his siblings to attend a tournament in Ashford. He didn't know the name of the tournament. Only to know that his father might want him and Aerion to at least outshine Valarr.
He didn't particularly like or aspire to be a knight or warrior like his father. Moreover, the numerous vivid memories in his dreams only intensified his concerns to really join the tournament.
But oh well...
It's not like he's escaped the nightmares completely... He'd just think, at least it wasn't the first time he'd dreamt it...
Except for the matter of her...
If he doesn't see her again tonight... will he be even more heartbroken tomorrow morning...?
Hey chat. I might get shot for this, but lately I've been seing a lot of discourse about fiction tagging. At the end of the day, all this is really not that deep... and I might just be a person with a bit of free time letting her mouth run, but it'll be nice if we just put in a little more effort on both sides, don't you think? Make a happier, healthier space for everybody.
First off, let me just say this does NOT apply to any writers who tag characters included in their fiction but not the actual pairing. From what I gather, this is the result of Tumblr's shitty tagging system and is actually no fault of your own.
The real meat of my observation is creators who keep using the xReader tag for fiction that are simply, not xReader. It doesn't matter if you omit the mention of the original character name to pass it off as an xReader fiction, if you're still mentioning them somewhere in the post, or literally tagging the OC name in the tags, then it's not xReader. You're literally letting us know that it's not. You also know it's not but are willingly using the tag anyway. The question is, why? If that's the case, I think you need to take a moment and ask yourself why you need to do this and what really is your goal, because it doesn't look like you're having fun... and isn't that what the community is supposed to be about? Exploring creativity, sharing a love for these fictional worlds, and having fun while at it. Validation will come when people connect with your work, but it shouldn't be an expectation.
Truly I get it, it's so incredibly easy to just scroll past things we have no interest in, and for the most part, I think that's what most people do. That said, it is also equally easy to tag your fiction correctly. You cannot get angry at people who choose to call you out if it's true, especially if they are being nice and polite about the way they bring this up to you. If they're not, then by all means call them out for being assholes when they could easily choose not to be, but it still doesn't mean they are wrong.
I know this may sound harsh, but creators need to remember that if you put something out there, that's entirely your choice. You are not owed an audience. They reserve the right to choose what they want to read, and if yours is not their cup of tea, that should be cool. You will find people that will connect with your work. Complaining that if you don't use certain tags then people won't find or read your stuff is not an excuse to forego established etiquette. You have chosen to write what you wanted, so try to be principled and stick with that.
Same principle should apply to xReader writers using OC tags, though I don't think this even happens, or at least rarely... but yeah, you get the picture.
Lastly, I want to encourage everybody who consumes fanfiction to continue liking, reblogging, or commenting on works they enjoyed. Let your writers know that they did something amazing. Give them inspiration to keep creating stories that bring joy to people, including yourself.
That's it. I truly don't mean to be a bitch about this, but I feel like it has to be said bluntly and directly. I appreciate everybody who tries to have this conversation with a level head, and please try not to trash those writers who might be struggling with this issue, unknowingly or not, when you think of giving them feedback.
Thank you! I'm happy to engage in the replies if we can keep it civil, and if I said something wrong or unclear please feel free to let me know so I could do better.
Status : WIP This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.
Summary : You decide to confront Lest, your husband’s mistress, for the first time. Not to cause a scene, but for an entirely different reason.
A/N : Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Like I said before, life’s been really messy. I can’t update as often as I used to, but I’m not dropping this story. I’ll finish it. Thanks for being patient with me and sticking around.😢
Masterlist
➡ Previous│Next (Soon!)
“You haven’t slept with Silco yet, have you?”
What a delightful morning greeting.
That was your first thought after nearly choking on your afternoon tea, hastily reaching for a napkin to wipe your mouth before glancing up at Sevika. She had just arrived at the office not long ago and was now buried in a mountain of paperwork, eyes fixed on the documents in her hands. She didn’t even look at you, but you knew the question was meant for you.
“Um… well,” you coughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond. “We… haven’t gotten that far yet.”
The tall woman let out a short laugh, finally cutting you a glance filled with mild amusement. “You two are already married. How much farther can there possibly be?”
You decided silence was safer than answering. Yet Sevika wasn’t one to let things slide so easily. She gathered the papers into a neat pile, set her elbows on the desk, and propped her chin on her hand as she studied you intently.
You never liked the way she looked at you. Her gaze carried the same disquieting weight as Silco’s. It was that same probing stare, the kind that made you feel as if she could see straight through every secret you tried to keep.
"You’re planning to divorce my boss, aren’t you?"
You flinch. Her laugh follows quickly after.
“Forget it. Silco isn't letting you go.”
Sevika lit a clove cigarette, the sweet familiar scent filling the air as a cloud of smoke hid her expression. Yet beneath her rough voice, you could still sense a trace of sympathy. “Being someone’s wife isn’t something you can just quit like a job. Especially not when your husband is Silco.”
You pressed your lips together. Of course you knew that. Silco had made it painfully clear when he proposed your arrangement that you would belong to him alone. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. You can already see the shadow of ruin waiting ahead.
If Silco were just an ordinary man, it might have been easier to accept this marriage born out of necessity, to live quietly as any normal couple might. You never dreamed of true love anyway. In the world you came from, true love was a myth, nothing more than a fairy tale. All you had ever wished for was a decent, well-mannered man with enough wealth to ensure safety and peace of mind, someone who wouldn’t make you wake in the middle of the night in fear for your life or your family’s.
People say you always end up with what you hate most, and perhaps they’re right. Because apart from his wealth, Silco possessed nothing that matched what you ever wanted. In fact, he was the very opposite.
Divorce wasn’t a passing thought. It was a decision you had already made, one you had turned over and over in your mind. You just hadn’t figured out how to do it without setting off a storm afterward. Ending a marriage was never easy for a woman, and it was even harder when the husband in question was the Eye of Zaun, a man everyone feared.
You let out a quiet sigh. The future feels unbearably bleak.
Sevika’s soft cough pulled you out of your thoughts. She must have noticed the gloom on your face, her tone grew gentler slightly.
“You should have more faith in yourself.” She set her teacup down with a quiet clink, then stubbed out her cigarette. “No matter what happens, the one who decides is you. It’s your life, your choice. No one else’s."
There was a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke, as if her words carried more weight than they seemed. When your gazes met, you sensed that her remark was not just advice but also a warning.
The shrill ring of her desk phone breaks the heavy air at just the right moment. Sevika turns away to handle business matters, leaving you to return to your own work, though your heart feels far from steady. Her words lingered in your mind like an omen, blending with the thought of what you had intended to do today, a decision you’ve kept entirely to yourself, even from Silco.
In the end, the one who decides is you. No one else. You repeated Sevika’s words to yourself and could only hope that the choice you were about to make would turn out to be the right one.
Around four in the afternoon, you left the office, careful not to let anyone see you so they would not mention it to Silco later. The air outside was thick with dampness, and the sky had turned a deep gray, heavy with the promise of rain. Just as the first drops began to fall, you stopped in front of a small house tucked inside a crowded neighborhood. It belonged to another woman who happened to share your husband.
Lest
The name alone brought back her image. A tall, statuesque Vastaya woman whose beauty seemed almost sculpted. She carried herself with effortless grace, always dressed in elegant clothes and striking makeup. Her sharp golden eyes, bright with feline caution, had often followed you with clear displeasure whenever you had business at Silco’s office. It was understandable. Women bound to the same man were destined to become rivals, whether they wished to or not.
Even so, you knew how strange this must look, a lawful wife paying a visit to her husband’s mistress. You had not come with the kind of malicious intent found in melodramatic novels, but it seemed Lest did not see it that way.
When she opened the door after your knock, her expression was blank and cold.
“May I ask what brings you here?” she said politely, though her tone was hard as glass, her arms folded across her chest.
You forced a small smile, ignoring the hostility beneath her courtesy. “It looks like the rain is about to pour. Would you mind if I stayed here for a while?”
Lest sighed and glanced away, but eventually stepped aside, allowing you to enter with visible reluctance.
The inside of her house was dim, much like the stormy sky outside. Heavy curtains covered most of the windows, and the furniture was dark wood and shadow. It stood in quiet contrast to Lest herself, dressed in pale tones that set off the soft gray of her fur. She poured you a cup of tea. The taste was so faint it was almost like water, a subtle sign that she was not living comfortably since Silco had left her.
“What are you really here for?” Lest asked bluntly. She clearly did not believe your excuse about the rain. “Did you come to gloat now that I’ve finally been tossed aside?”
You did not take offense. Her bitterness was understandable. After all, the only thing you shared was a love triangle, and that left little room for kindness.
“I just wanted to talk.”
Lest, sitting cross legged across from you, stared with a mixture of confusion and disbelief before letting out a sharp, bitter laugh. “And why would I want to talk to the woman who took everything from me?”
You met her gaze in silence while the heavy rain beat against the roof in a steady rhythm. You knew her words didn’t refer only to work. She was speaking about Silco.
Lest had loved Silco long before you ever came into the picture.
If not for the legal title of “wife,” perhaps it would have been you, not her, who deserved to be called the other woman.
“Believe it or not, I never wanted to take anything from you, Lest.” You placed your hand on the edge of the table, tension lingering in your posture as you tried to let your sincerity show in your eyes. “And I don’t agree with what Silco did. That’s why I wanted to come and speak with you myself.”
“So your husband doesn’t know you’re here?”
“This is between women. I don’t need Silco involved.”
“Between women?” Lest echoed with quiet mockery, a faint smile curving her lips. “Do you have any idea how many women there were before you came along and took the place of his wife?”
You could tell she was trying to provoke you, so you chose not to react. “That’s none of my business.”
Although you had made it clear you didn’t wish to hear more, the tall woman continued without the slightest hesitation.
“Silco is the kind of man who can’t resist luxury. He takes what he wants and throws it away once he grows bored.” Lest tilted her head, examining you with cold, measured eyes. “And you are exactly that sort of thing. A noble lady from the upper city, expensive and elegant, something to own and show off. No wonder he was so eager to marry you.”
Her expression tightened with anger that had long settled into bitterness and envy. “Let me give you one piece of advice. Don’t ever fall in love with Silco, unless you want to end up like me. He has never loved anyone but himself. At least I am free of him now. I hope you’re happy.”
Lest waved her hand in dismissal, her movements still edged with mockery, though her voice held no true malice. Beneath the flawless layer of powder and lipstick, beneath the sharpness of her words, you caught a fleeting trace of sympathy. In truth, you felt it for her as well.
That was the mystery of women, something no man would ever understand. A strange bond formed through shared womanhood. They could resent each other deeply, yet still carry an unspoken understanding. Especially when they had suffered in similar ways or endured parallel circumstances.
Such was your connection with Lest, a tie born from the same man, Silco.
You knew too well what awaited her after being cast aside by him. It was not only heartbreak she had to endure. Her livelihood had depended entirely on the privileges of being Silco’s woman, including her position at the company. Once his favor disappeared, everything attached to it vanished as well. The poor quality of the tea she had served earlier made it clear that she had fallen into hardship.
And what does a woman without money do to survive in Zaun?
The answer was obvious for someone as cornered as Lest. Sooner or later, she would have no choice but to sell her body. Both of you knew it.
And you could not bear the thought of anyone suffering because of you.
“I already told you, I’m not interested in Silco’s life or whatever he did. The one I’m interested in is you.”
You reaffirmed your intention, drawing a slow breath before placing the small folder you had brought onto the table. With a light push of your fingers, you slid it toward the woman sitting across from you.
Lest regarded you with suspicion, but you gave no explanation. You simply waited for her to decide on her own to open it. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally did. As she turned the pages, her eyes widened in shock.
“Transportation manager, Piltover branch? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what it says,” you replied evenly. “Our company is opening a new transport office in Piltover. I’m promoting you to oversee the logistics there.”
Lest blinked, the suspicion in her expression giving way to confusion. “Did Silco tell you to do this?”
“I did it myself. I’m one of the senior executives now, which means I can hire whoever I choose.”
Your voice sounded colder than you intended, irritation rising at how she kept mentioning Silco even though he had nothing to do with this decision.
Still, your answer seemed only to deepen her confusion. “You’re giving me a job knowing I slept with your husband?” she asked bluntly.
“When a man cheats, people always blame the woman. But the real problem is the man who can’t control himself.” As you spoke, the faces of your father and Silco crossed your mind. Then you offered Lest a faint smile, your expression soft with understanding. “Believe me, I have no reason to hate you. You’re a capable woman, Lest. I saw it in your record. You even lived in the upper city once, didn’t you? Your experience will be a great help to us.”
Lest looked between you and the documents in her hands, astonished and uncertain, caught between confusion and gratitude.
This was not only about money. It was about the trust you had chosen to place in her.
Never in her life in Zaun had anyone shown faith in her abilities. People had only seen her as the mistress of a crime lord, never as someone with potential. And now here you were, a foreign woman and the lawful wife of the man she had once been involved with, offering her an opportunity no one else had ever given.
The realization caused Lest to lower her gaze, shame flickering across her face as she avoided your eyes.
“You know,” she murmured at last, almost to herself, “I envy you.”
For the first time, she spoke without sarcasm or bitterness. The honesty in her voice stirred an unexpected warmth in you. You shook your head, replying with quiet certainty.
“No, I envy you. You’re free to love anyone you want and go wherever you please. I’m the one trapped in a gilded cage, married to a man I don’t love, who doesn’t love me either.”
You said it openly, more honestly than you ever had with Sevika or even Jinx. As the words left your lips, a dull ache rose within you. The truth of your relationship with Silco remained a shadow you could not define. You no longer knew where you stood or what you were in his eyes.
A dry, throaty laugh drew you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Lest across the table, lost in contemplation. When she finally met your gaze, a faint teasing smile touched her magenta lips, mysterious and difficult to read.
“My dear,” she said softly, “with my line of work, I can tell what a man is thinking just by looking into his eyes. And I’ll say this much, you might be misunderstanding something.”
She did not elaborate, leaving only a spark of intrigue lingering in your mind as you wondered what she had meant.
I'm so happy to announce that six of my Viktor & Jayce Talis artworks will be displayed at Hexcore Nights, an official Arcane event by Riot Games on October 29th & 30th in Los Angeles!
I’m finally back!😭 It took me forever to figure out how to get back on Tumblr after spending quite a while camping over on AO3.
Anyway, I’ve got some bad news to share.💀
I’ve been having issues with a coworker over something super weird (won’t go into details), and they actually threatened to sue me.
Of course, they can’t do that since I didn’t do anything illegal, but there’s no way I can keep working with them. So now I’m stuck trying to find a new job, and so far, no luck.
That said, I’m not abandoning By Order of the Eye of Zaun. I just probably won’t be able to update it as often since life’s been kinda rough and chaotic lately.
Once I land a new job, I promise I’ll get back to updating more regularly.🤞✨
Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.
Summary : Silco’s been acting strangely lately, and you’re the only one who’s noticed. His sudden gentleness toward you is confusing, leaving you unsure of what he’s really planning.
Masterlist
➡ Previous│Next
Ever since the tense confrontation between Finn and Silco, many changes had followed in the months that came after.
Finn agreed to a truce between the gangs in exchange for a trade partnership in Piltover’s market, all under your supervision and management.
Deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this alliance wouldn’t last. Finn was not a man easily trusted, and his hatred for Silco ran deeper than anyone’s. It was entirely possible that once things turned in his favor, he would stab you both in the back.
But there was one thing Finn lacked, something he desired above all else—you.
You were his only guarantee of access to the Piltover market, his most lucrative source of income. Because of that, he dared not break the agreement as long as you remained legally married to Silco.
For that very reason, Finn made no effort to hide his intention of stealing you away from your husband. He seemed to take delight in provoking tension between the two of you. He often stopped by Silco’s office to see you, always with a bouquet in hand, unconcerned about the eyes watching him, least of all Silco’s, who would have flayed him alive if Sevika hadn’t intervened.
Sometimes he even appeared at your home, claiming there was important business to discuss, when in truth he only came to flirt and shower you with sweet, meaningless words.
Finn seemed to revel in it, especially when Silco was there. His behavior grew even bolder in your husband’s presence, as if the danger itself made the game more thrilling. No matter how sharp Silco’s glare became, Finn never flinched; instead, he laughed and once even declared, right to Silco’s face, that the day your husband died, he would gladly take his place as your second husband.
It was safe to say that Silco did not find the remark amusing in the slightest.
As for Silco, something about him had begun to change in subtle, unexpected ways. To most, the difference might have seemed too subtle to notice, but to you, who had lived beside him long enough to catch every shift in his demeanor, felt it immediately.
After much thought, you realized it all began that night at Finn’s distillery, with a single word that had quietly left his lips: sorry.
“I’m sorry,” Silco said the moment you both returned home safely at dawn. Fortunately, he had waited until you were indoors, because if he’d said it while you were still driving, you were certain you would have crashed his brand-new Bentley into the nearest wall from sheer shock.
“Sorry for what?” you asked, unsure whether you’d heard him right or were simply imagining things.
“I’m sorry,” Silco repeated, his voice louder this time. He stepped closer, set both hands on your shoulders, and met your gaze with unwavering sincerity. “I’m sorry for not listening to your warning in the first place.”
You froze, unable to speak, though Silco seemed to take your silence as anger. He rushed to continue.
“I usually get what I want. I hate losing, no matter the situation. But this time, I realized I can’t keep winning if I don’t start listening to others. I think I owe you an apology.”
They were the most genuine words Silco had ever spoken to you. His tone was steady, yet you sensed a faint trace of nervousness beneath it. It must have been difficult for a man like him, a man who ruled over Zaun’s underworld, to admit defeat and apologize to anyone, perhaps for the first time in his life.
If a heartfelt apology from the head of the Eye of Zaun could be called the eighth wonder of the world, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration. For someone who had survived in the underworld as long as you had, there was one truth you’d long accepted: expecting a hen to lay a golden egg was easier than expecting a man to say he was sorry.
In that moment, you couldn’t quite describe how you felt. To say you disliked it wasn’t accurate; it was more of a restless, uneasy feeling that left you frustrated with yourself. You hated that kind of vulnerability, that loss of control over your own emotions, as if your heart and body no longer belonged to you.
You both fell silent for a while, though the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. Eventually, you gathered yourself and offered him a faint, weary smile. “It’s alright. I’m used to it. People don’t usually listen to what I have to say anyway.”
You spoke the truth. Perhaps it was exhaustion mixed with that strange turmoil within you, but for a moment, your guard slipped, revealing more than you intended.
Even so, you tried not to dwell on what either of you had said that day. You brushed it off as an odd little incident, something you might laugh about someday.
But Silco didn’t see it that way. Your offhand words had taken root in his mind, and when combined with Finn’s constant meddling, those seeds began to grow faster than either of you could have imagined.
"What is this, Silco?"
You stared at the pale green leather box on the breakfast table, your expression filled with confusion. Then you turned to Silco, silently asking for an explanation. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips. Yet he said nothing, simply watching you, waiting for you to open it.
Curiosity finally won. You lifted the lid, only to find yourself even more bewildered.
Inside was a ruby crystal necklace, the gem cut into a flawless teardrop shape. It rested on a black velvet cushion embroidered with silver thread spelling out your name.
"This ruby crystal came from a friend in Bilgewater," he said at last, stepping closer with a broader smile. "I thought it would suit you perfectly."
You wanted to ask what had gotten into him, but shock kept your words trapped. You stayed frozen as Silco gently fastened the necklace around your neck. The weight of the white gold chain and the ruby’s cool surface against your skin brought you back to your senses. You raised your hand to touch the gem carefully, as though it might burn you, caught between confusion and hesitation.
You rose to face him, uncertain how to react to such a lavish gift, something you had never received from anyone before.
"You didn’t have to give me something so expensive just to apologize," you said softly.
Silco shrugged as if it were no big deal, his gaze shifting between the pendant on your neck and your face, thoughtful and unreadable.
"I give because I want to," he said. His hand brushed lightly near your shoulder, and you felt his breath against your cheek as he leaned in to whisper, "Consider it a welcome gift for the new secretary and executive of the Eye of Zaun Company."
You froze. The necklace alone had been surprising enough, but his words left you utterly stunned.
Within the Eye of Zaun, a person’s rank depended on their role in the company. The executive position marked a significant leap for you, placing you above Sevika and second only to Silco himself. By granting you that title personally, he had given you full access to the power he commanded and placed his complete trust in your hands.
You furrowed your brow, trying to process the situation. Instead of feeling pleased, a sense of unease settled over you.
You had seen enough of the world to know that no man ever gave freely without expecting something in return.
"What do you want from me?" you asked, stepping back slightly and avoiding his gaze. Confusion churned within you, intensifying with each passing second. Silco treated you so differently from your father and brother that you weren’t sure how to react, or even if you could trust him.
His fingers reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. Startled, you met his eyes as he stepped closer. The air thickened around you when the taller man leaned in, closer than ever. Your noses brushed lightly. His normal eye shimmered with intense feeling, hovering just a breath from your face, before his gaze slowly shifted to your lips.
“I want you,” he whispered.
Time seemed to stop. His soft, almost inaudible words rang clearly in your ears. Every thought vanished as Silco pressed an unexpected, consuming kiss to your lips. Your entire body trembled, caught in a dizzying, dreamlike haze. The bitter taste of Perique tobacco lingered on your tongue, and his hands left sparks of heat wherever they touched.
You held your breath, closing your eyes tightly, feeling the moments stretch endlessly. Your head spun as your hands gripped his collar, wrinkling the fabric beneath your fingers. You wanted to pull away, but your strength had deserted you. By the time you regained composure, Silco had pulled back, leaving warmth on your lips and a memory that would make you blush every time you recalled it.
His eyes still burned with smoldering intensity as he held your waist close. You lowered your gaze quickly, trying in vain to hide the faint blush on your cheeks, even though you knew it was useless. Silco could see it all anyway.
Even now, you could not fully understand his actions, nor could you grasp your own reaction. There was no revulsion, no anger as you might have expected. Only a flustered, helpless embarrassment that left you unsure how to behave.
In that strangely tender moment, a sudden question surfaced in your mind, pulling you back to yourself. You cleared your throat and gently pushed Silco away. Your expression flickered with hesitation before you finally spoke.
“What about Lest?”
Silco raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by your question. “What does this have to do with Lest?”
“You said you’d make me your secretary. But Lest is already your personal secretary, isn’t she?”
“I’ll have her resign, and you’ll take her place,” he replied, brushing his fingers through your hair in a teasing gesture, an amused smile curving his lips. “I thought you’d be pleased with my decision.”
His affair with Lest was no secret. Everyone in Zaun knew about it, and what he did today was an unmistakable declaration that he intended to end his ties with other women because of you. It sounded almost romantic, like something out of a love novel.
But you knew better than to lose yourself in sweet illusions. What bound you to him wasn’t afairytale romance; it was the harsh reality of a world driven by power, violence, and male dominance.
And because of that, you had never trusted any man, not even Silco.
“Listen,” you began after a thoughtful pause, your tone sincere. “I know about you and Lest, and I understand. I don’t have a problem with your mistress.”
Silco’s smile returned, though the sharp gleam in his eyes seemed to study you intently. “What a shame. I was hoping you’d be a little jealous,” he said, half teasing, half serious.
“Don’t forget, my mother was a mistress. I was born from a man’s infidelity, and he wasn’t a good father either,” you said with a weary sigh, accepting the painful truth that had haunted you for decades. “So I don’t expect faithfulness from any man.”
You surprised yourself with how easily those words came out. You had always warned yourself not to trust Silco, yet somehow, he made you speak without restraint. Maybe it was the strange sense of safety you felt around him, or maybe it was your own weakness that made you reveal yourself so openly.
Silco nodded slowly, taking in your words. There was something unsettling in the glint of his smile and the gleam of his mismatched eyes, a feeling that deepened when the tall man stepped closer. The scarred side of his face came near yours, and you instinctively stepped back, only for his arms to wrap around your shoulders and waist, holding you firmly in place.
“I promise you,” he murmured in that deep, even voice that sent a chill through you, “from now on, you’ll be my only wife. you’ll belong to me alone, just as I belong to you. And no one touches what’s mine. I’ll kill them myself. Especially Finn.”
The mention of Finn carried a sharp edge of fury. You looked up at him in surprise, wanting to tell him there was no need to worry since you had no intention of ever marrying a brute like Finn. Yet the words never came. You found yourself trapped in the intensity of his gaze, one eye dark, burning orange iris like a flame in the void, the other a crystalline blue, fathomless and cold.
His fingers traced along your cheek, down to your chin, and whatever you had meant to say vanished completely when his lips met yours again. This time, the kiss was soft, deliberate, and unhurried.
Those thoughts echoed in your head again and again. Yet instead of pushing him away, as you knew you should, you lifted your arms to circle his neck and slowly closed your eyes, letting that strange, nameless feeling seep into your heart once more, tightening its hold on you.
It seemed Silco wasn’t the only one acting strangely. You were, too.
Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.
Summary : Silco’s plan to push into Piltover puts his life in danger again, and once again, you’re the one who has to step in. You’ll do whatever it takes to save him, but this time you’re not doing it for free. Not even for your own husband.
Masterlist
➡ Previous│Next
Growing up in a mafia family has taught you one undeniable truth: when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it’s never good news. So when the shrill sound of the telephone shattered the silence just past midnight, your heart nearly stopped. You jolted awake and turned to the empty space beside you. Silco hadn’t come home.
You got out of bed, slipped a robe over your nightgown, and made your way to his study. With each step, the sound of the phone grew sharper, more grating, until you finally picked up the receiver and answered with a tense, "Hello?"
Jinx’s frantic voice burst through the line. Whatever traces of sleep remained vanished instantly. You tried to calm her down, desperate to understand what had happened. It took nearly a full minute before she could string her words into something coherent, her voice broken and scattered, but eventually you pieced together the most critical parts.
First, someone from the Eye of Zaun had been killed at the docks, and the entire shipment meant for Piltover had been stolen.
Second, Silco had gone alone to Finn’s factory a few hours ago, telling his daughter to inform the others later.
“I figured you should be the first to know, since you’re his wife,” Jinx said. “I tried to go with him, but he wouldn’t let me. He looked... terrifying. Very, very furious.”
That was when you realized what you had long feared had finally begun.
What you hadn’t expected was that Silco would actually storm into Finn’s territory alone. He knew exactly what kind of danger that entailed. A decision like that could only come from someone either completely confident or dangerously reckless. In your eyes, Silco was both.
Jinx had, unfortunately, inherited much of her father’s temperament. She was reckless, impulsive, and intensely loyal. She was furious that Silco had refused her offer to accompany him and was certain something terrible was going to happen. Her agitation nearly drove her to set out on her own and blow up Finn’s base, until you stopped her and insisted she come home first.
She arrived just as you finished getting dressed. Her gaze followed you with visible suspicion as she watched you methodically conceal weapons beneath your elegant outfit. A folding knife tucked into your loosely pinned hair, another hidden in the heel of your shoe, and your loaded Smith M10 secured beneath your garter belt.
"What exactly are you planning to do?" Jinx finally asked, unable to contain herself any longer.
“I’m going to put on a little show,” you replied, offering nothing more.
She narrowed her eyes, clearly dissatisfied with your answer. “I don’t get it, but I’m not letting you go alone again. No way.”
If there was anyone besides your mother who truly cared about you, it was Jinx. The depth of her concern touched something in you, and without thinking, you pulled her into a tight embrace. She stiffened, startled by the unexpected gesture.
“I already know you won’t listen if I tell you to stay behind,” you whispered, “which is why I’m asking you to come with me instead.”
Jinx blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
You gently stroked her back before leaning in to whisper the details of your plan.
The truth was, you didn’t want to drag her into this, but knowing how stubborn she could be, you feared she’d sneak out after you anyway. If anything, it was safer to let her in on it than leave her behind.
As soon as she understood what you had in mind, Jinx gave you a wicked grin. She was more than happy to help. Other people might think your plan was crazy, but you knew your stepdaughter well. Jinx lives for chaos, and she’s good at causing it.
Not long after that, the two of you arrived safely at the bakery factory that served as a front for Finn’s illegal arms factory deep in the industrial district. The building was a crude wooden structure, standing alone among the grimy factories, smoke rising and flickering from coal fires and electric lamps. The constant hum of machinery filled the night, yet the place felt isolated, abandoned, and hostile.
You entered alone as planned, leaving Jinx outside. The faint scent of sugar mingled with sweat and smoke. Workers stared at you with open hostility, some letting their gaze linger uncomfortably. You ignored them, walking with purpose and scanning every corner. Crates of fresh bread were stacked beside barrels of gunpowder and various weapons, a stark reminder of the dual nature of this place.
You deliberately brushed your fingers across the crates and barrels, drawing attention. It was not long before a wiry man with twin braids approached, scowling and trying to intimidate you.
“This isn’t a place for women. Leave,” he barked.
You gave him a sultry smile, stepping closer as if trying to seduce him like a common whore. Before he could react, you wrapped one arm around his neck, bringing your lips near his ear, while your other hand retrieved your gun from beneath your skirt and pressed the muzzle firmly against his groin.
“Stay quiet. Make one sound and you won’t ever fuck again,” you whispered. “Now be a good boy and take me to Finn.”
This led you to the second floor, guided by this man whom you would later learn was named Ollie, Finn’s cousin. His terrified, almost cowardly demeanor contrasted sharply with the reputation of his cousin. That very fear made your intimidation effortless. He obeyed without hesitation, guiding you to Finn’s private office. His hands shook violently as he opened the door.
Inside, you saw Silco sitting calmly in a chair across the desk while Finn pointed a gun directly at him. Finn’s sharp, commanding gaze swept over you, sending a flicker of fear through you. You had never met him before, only hearing stories from Silco. Though not particularly tall, Finn exuded a menacing presence. Tattoos covered his body, golden accents adorned his clothes, and a gleaming golden jaw replaced the one lost in a failed weapon experiment, enhancing his fierce aura.
Finn did not seem surprised by your sudden appearance. One of Zaun’s Chem-Barons grinned broadly, as if he knew you well. “Looks like we have another uninvited guest,” he chuckled.
Silco’s gaze fixed on you, and though he said nothing, his eyes asked a very clear question: What the hell is going on?
You knew he would be furious at your interruption, but you had anticipated this. along with every risk of your plan failing. Every possible outcome looked grim, yet this was something you had to handle. Silco’s life depended on it.
“Gentlemen, wouldn’t it be better to settle this with words instead of pointing guns at each other?”
You stepped forward, keeping your weapon trained on Ollie while making sure Finn could see every motion. You wanted him to understand that you were willing to act if he harmed your husband.
“This is none of your business. Get out now,” Silco said abruptly, his voice low and chilling.
“Shut up, Silco,” you snapped, your heart pounding but your voice steady. “This is as much my business as it is yours. I will not become a widow less than a month into our marriage.” You stood your ground, refusing to leave without him.
Silco’s eyes widened, astonished by your audacity. Finn, too, seemed impressed rather than alarmed.
“Oh, I’ve heard plenty about your wife, but I did not expect such fierceness,” Finn laughed, setting his gun down and stepping closer. The scent of sweat and gunpowder reached your nose as he bent slightly to press a polite kiss to the back of your hand. “Sorry I missed your wedding. Silco seems to have forgotten to invite me. Given your beauty, it is no wonder he wanted to keep you to himself. It would be a shame for a woman like you to become a widow so soon.”
Your gaze met his, and in that moment you realized he had intended to kill Silco if you hadn’t intervened.
This was why you were here: to prevent needless bloodshed and save your husband once again. You offered Finn a sweet, calculated smile. Now the game has begun.
From your experience in the criminal world, one lesson from your father has stuck with you: when facing a madman, you must out-mad him.
“Well, it would be a shame if a handsome man like you died so soon, too.” you said smoothly.
Finn froze, brow furrowing in confusion, and the smile vanished immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Mind if I smoke?” you asked, ignoring his question, deliberately provoking him further.
“Answer me!”
His anger made your heart skip a beat, but you suppressed your fear expertly. You maintained a controlled smile as you stashed your gun and lit a cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. “Honestly, I’m not too fond of your factory. It feels a little too dark in here. A bit more light would be welcome,” you said, casually surveying the room while flicking your lighter, sparks glinting between your fingers. “Gunpowder is a very effective source of light. Add the haystack in your factory, and a small fire would illuminate all of Zaun, wouldn’t it?”
Finn’s mouth fell open, fully understanding the meaning behind your words. “I’m going to kill your husband, then you, before you can burn this place!” he spat, fury blazing in his eyes.
“I’m not planning to burn anything. I’m going to blow it all up,” you corrected, shrugging at his threatening glare. “Before coming here, I planted explosives among your goods. My daughter Jinx, waiting outside, will detonate them if Silco and I haven’t left within an hour.”
“You’ve lost your mind! If you do it, you and your husband will die too!”
“Exactly. I decided I would die with him. ‘Till death do us part’ is part of wedding vows, isn’t it? I do not break my vows,” you said softly, turning to look at your husband, who watched in stunned awe. “Whether no one dies tonight or everyone dies tonight, the choice is yours, Finn.”
The bitter taste of nicotine made you slightly nauseous. You dropped the cigarette to the floor, stamped it out with your high-heeled shoe, and turned your gaze back to Finn, ensuring he understood that you meant every word.
Finn was no ordinary man. Ambitious, greedy, and cunning, he had risen from extreme poverty to become a powerful figure in Zaun’s underworld. It was no surprise that his sharp mind could read your intentions even before you spoke.
“Why don’t you just tell me what you want?” he asked.
You exhaled deeply and fixed him with a serious gaze. “I’ve come to make you an offer.”
Finn crossed his arms, curiosity and amusement replacing his anger. “And what makes you think I would be interested in an offer from Silco’s Piltie wife?”
“My husband hasn’t told you who I really am,” you said, crossing your arms and returning his gaze with deliberate confidence, mirroring his posture. “My maiden name is Ferros.”
Revealing your true identity was not something you wanted to do, but it was the only card left. It could be your greatest advantage or your deadliest threat. You pressed your lips together and met Silco’s eyes briefly, noting the surprise on his face. He had not expected this move from you.
You were gambling on an unpredictable outcome. Everything now depended on Finn, who stood before you, mouth slightly agape.
“Wait… you’re one of the Ferros from the upper city?” Finn finally asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
You nodded, forcing casual composure despite the pressure. “Do you know how Silco has been moving goods into Piltover? It’s because of me,” you said, sneaking a glance at the wall clock. The hour was almost up. You had to convince him quickly. “I know you and Silco don’t get along, but your conflicts benefit no one. Instead of fighting, why not find a middle ground and profit from the upper city together? I can help you.”
“But you’re with the Eye of Zaun now, and more importantly, you’re a fooking Piltie. How can I trust you?”
Even under Finn’s intense hostility, you detected a small flicker of hesitation forming in him. Relief surged through you, and you allowed yourself a secret, satisfied smile. It looked like your chances of success were growing.
"Yes, Silco is my husband, but he doesn’t control my life. I know you might not trust him, but you must trust me, because I’m the only one in this room who can make any of you truly rich.” you said, pointing directly at Finn with unshakable confidence. “The trade rights granted to House Ferros belong to me, not Silco. And Piltovans will ever recognize Zaunites. They only recognize me. That’s why both of you need me. But I don’t need either of you.”
It was a bold statement, perhaps an exaggerated claim. In truth, you still leaned heavily on Silco for protection. Yet the Ferros trading rights, inherited from the father you despised, remained indisputably valuable and too great for anyone in Zaun’s underworld to ignore.
The clock ticked forward, making your nerves tingle as you awaited Finn’s response. He leaned back against the office wall, scratching the scar along his golden jaw while glancing between you and Silco, trying to figure out what scheme this couple was playing.
Silco, for his part, looked equally perplexed. He had no idea of the plan you had devised in your mind.
This was the crucial point that gave you the upper hand over both powerful men, not through guns or influence, but through your intellect alone.
Finally, Finn exhaled, his tone reluctant. “Alright. Tell me your offer.”
And so, the negotiation between you and Finn finally began in earnest. You straightened your posture, your voice sharp and businesslike.
“I’ll handle the market. You and Silco stick to production. No one interferes with the other’s territory. Silco will pull his people out of your territory completely, and you will leave his goods and men alone. Everyone stays in their lane.”
“And what do I get if I agree to that?”
“You and Silco each get thirty percent. I take forty.”
“What the hell? You are Silco’s wife. That means the money goes straight to the Eye of Zaun anyway. I'm getting the short end of the deal," he huffed, pretending outrage while the gleam of amusement in his eyes betrayed how much he was enjoying this back-and-forth.
You gave a soft laugh and shook your head, as though what he’d said was utterly ridiculous.
“You really think I am going to give him a cut of my share? Not a chance. Marriage is one thing. Business is another. Isn’t that right, Tereso?” you added, turning to Silco with a smirk, throwing his own words back at him. It was a rare chance to get under his skin, and you took it with pleasure.
“If either of you does not like this deal, I will walk away. You two can go try your luck in Topside without me.”
“Shit!” Finn cursed, though not in frustration. His voice carried admiration. He turned to Silco with a grin. “Where the hell did you find a wife like this, Silco? Damn, you really hit the jackpot.”
“You are right, he did,” you replied with a grin, accepting the compliment without hesitation. “So, do we have a deal, Finn?”
Finn beamed. He spat into his palm and held out his hand to you. Without hesitation, you did the same, clasping his hand firmly without the slightest sign of disgust. That only impressed him more.
It was a perfect ending. A new business arrangement had been sealed without a single life lost tonight. Even better, you had gotten exactly what you wanted.
You could still recall your mother’s words: "Good deeds will always bring good in return." There had been a time when you doubted that, but now you finally understood. Good things only came to those who reached out and seized them for themselves.
After all, the line between being good and being foolish was razor thin. And after suffering more than your fair share from trying to help others(Silco being a prime example,) you had made a vow to yourself. You would never be a fool again. If you were going to risk your life for someone, you’d make damn sure you got something in return.
In this case, the reward for your good deed was a share of the bootlegging trade.
You had never intended to let Silco use his status as your husband to claim what should have been yours. You had always planned to carve out your own stake, and as it turned out, Finn’s interference, which should have been a disaster for the Eye of Zaun, became the perfect opportunity for you.
All it took was playing the role of the brave and devoted wife, and then you claimed the lion’s share of the trade, more than Silco, more than Finn.
You were sure Silco had seen right through your little performance. And he was probably fuming at how thoroughly you had blindsided him, cutting his share and taking it for yourself without giving him a single opening to protest.
You suspected he was furious. You had sensed it in the way he remained disturbingly silent the entire time. You had barely glanced at him, too focused on tracking Finn’s every move, yet you could feel Silco’s eyes following, sharp and unyielding like a hawk. The weight of his gaze pressed against you, making the hairs on your arms rise. Beneath that calm exterior, you sensed a dark storm brewing, a tempest born of your own design.
But then something happened that caught you completely off guard.
Just after you sealed the deal with Finn, your eyes met Silco’s for a brief, unintentional moment.
His expression was unreadable, cold and blank as always. Yet strangely, the look he gave you did not carry anger or betrayal.
Status : WIP (Weekly Update) This is a long fic, probably over 20 chapters.
Summary : As the wife of Zaun’s most powerful crime lord, you have to make it clear where you stand, even if that means challenging your husband.
Masterlist
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You still remembered what Sevika, Silco’s right hand, had told you on the night of your wedding, when you officially became Silco’s wife. The memory lingered as vividly as if it had happened only yesterday, despite the weeks that had since passed.
She told you, “In Zaun, life always begins with ‘If’ ”
Her eyes, dark grey beneath heavy eyeliner, gleamed knowingly under the chandelier’s light, reflecting off the champagne glass in her hand. It was then that you realized Sevika was another person who knew the truth about your identity, just as Silco did.
In fact, there wasn’t a single secret tied to Silco, not even you, that Sevika didn’t already know. She wasn’t just a loyal subordinate; she was the foundation of his rise, the driving force behind his ascent to power in Zaun. It was no surprise that Silco trusted her implicitly, enough to share everything, including your story, with her.
She was also the only woman who held a major role within the Eye of Zaun. Sevika oversaw the gang’s finances with full authority and handled every other matter Silco chose not to deal with himself. That made her the organization’s unofficial second-in-command, and everyone around her treated her with genuine respected.
In the male-dominated of the underworld, a woman’s place was often lower than most dared to imagine. But Sevika had carved her place with a sharp mind, adaptability, grit, and a willingness to be ruthless when needed. She’d taught you as much herself, when she first introduced you to the gang and began showing you what your new life would entail, as both the boss’s wife and a member of the Eye of Zaun.
“This is our world. And it’ll be yours too,” she had said. “So here’s my advice: if you don’t have a backbone, it’s better to kill yourself now. Trust me, it’s far easier than surviving in a place like this.”
Her words were sharp and commanding, enough to steal the breath from your lungs as her piercing gaze swept over you. She wasn’t friendly, nor did she seem hostile, but she made it clear she wouldn’t coddle you.
“You might not be able to control Silco, but you can control everyone else. You’re the mistress of the Eye of Zaun now, and these people will judge you for every move you make. You need to show them exactly where you stand.”
There was nothing about Sevika that reminded you of Jinx. Where Jinx was wild and unpredictable, Sevika embodied unshakable strength, hardened by experience that no one could break. That was one of the reasons you respected her. She reminded you of yourself, and it seemed she saw something familiar in you too. The two of you felt like mirrors, reflecting the same jagged edges back at one another. Though you weren’t as close to her as you were to Jinx, you still managed to form a strong professional bond with her.
You’d also come to know a few other women working within the Eye of Zaun. One of them, Lest, Silco’s personal secretary, stood out more than the rest. You’d heard plenty of rumors about her. Some claimed she was from the Upper City like you. Others whispered that she was exceptionally skilled at keeping your husband satisfied, whether at his desk or in his bed.
But you didn’t care who Silco slept with, not even after marrying him. Yours had never been a relationship built on love. It was a pact of mutual benefit and survival. You lived under the same roof, shared the same bed, but there had never been any physical intimacy between you. Silco had never forced himself on you, and that alone was one of the few things you could appreciate about him.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Not after everything you’d learned about the man he truly was.
Nonetheless, you couldn’t deny that becoming his wife had made life in Zaun smoother and more peaceful, at least until the day of the Eye of Zaun’s major meeting arrived.
It was your first time attending an important gathering with everyone involved in the organization’s legal and illegal operations. You sat on a wooden chair at the large conference table, which was cluttered with scattered papers and pens. One hand lifted a cup of hot tea to your lips. The liquid burned your tongue almost painfully, yet your expression remained composed. Your gaze swept across the room, observing the seated members before settling on Silco, who stood at the head of the table.
You realized how strange it was for you to be here. Even as Silco’s wife, you were still a newcomer, holding no official role in the organization. There was no reason for you to be included in such a critical meeting unless whatever Silco was about to do involved you directly.
"Alright, everyone," Silco began. "I’d like to introduce our new product for the first time here."
He set an unlabelled liquor bottle in front of everyone. At first glance, it resembled ordinary whiskey, but if you looked closely, the amber liquid shimmered with a faint pink hue, more concentrated than the usual bootleg whiskey sold in Zaun.
Sevika was the first to try it. She opened the bottle, poured some into her cup, and took a sip. Her face lit up with unmistakable delight. "This is incredible. The flavor is better than anything I’ve ever had."
"Of course," Silco said. "This is the newest formula of Shimmer Whiskey, specially developed for a new market. The first batch of five hundred bottles will be discreetly shipped with our arms consignment on Monday morning." He paused and turned to you. One of his blue eyes gleamed with anticipation.
You immediately understood what he was planning.
"You’re planning to send Shimmer into Piltover," you said at last, unable to hide the shock in your voice.
It was a bold move that might seem reckless to anyone else, and even to you. The new market in Piltover came with far more formidable enemies. But Silco was a man of vision, capable of seeing beyond what most could imagine, and he made that clear in this meeting.
He held a cigar between his lips, lighting it before speaking again as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "Shimmer is our greatest weapon for rising to power, not just in Zaun, but in Piltover as well. With this new whiskey, they won’t even realize they’re consuming Shimmer. By the time they do, the Pilties will already be addicted and buying from us regularly." His gaze returned to you. "And of course, we won’t be selling under the name of the Eye of Zaun. We’ll be using your name, my dear."
You knew he had been waiting for this moment. He had spoken before about expanding into Piltover, and you suspected this was one of the main reasons he had married you. No Topsider would ever allow a Zaunite to open a business in their city. But if Silco used your name, the Ferros name, everything would be easier.
As you met his eyes, it became painfully clear just how far this man could go with his sharp, calculating mind. It was both impressive and terrifying.
Luckily, he was your husband, not your enemy. If he hadn’t been, you would already be dead.
"So this is why you’ve been stirring up tension with Finn all this time, isn’t it? To take control of the port and the trade routes into Piltover," Sevika said, pouring herself another drink and downing it in one swift motion. She, too, could see through her boss’s true intentions. She understood that the real target was not the rival gang, but the trade routes, Piltover’s precious gateway that Finn had kept under his control without anyone else noticing.
"Exactly," Silco replied, snapping his fingers and pointing at her, as if she had just voiced the answer he had been waiting for. "And when we succeed, it won’t just be about power. We’re talking about millions flowing into our organization’s treasury."
The mention of millions made nearly everyone in the room hold their breath. It was more than they had ever imagined, an opportunity they had never expected in their lives. It thrilled everyone... except you.
Silco was the only one who noticed the serious expression on your face. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he looked at you. "Does my wife have something to say?"
"Am I even allowed to speak, Silco?" you asked quietly, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of every gaze now fixed on you.
He nodded. "Our organization grants women the same right to speak as men. Go ahead."
You let out a slow breath, steadying your trembling hands beneath the table before finding your voice. "As someone who came from the Upper City, I have to say I don’t entirely support expanding into that market. Piltover’s mafia is nothing like the criminals here in Zaun. We’re far more dangerous than you realize."
Tension immediately thickened in the room. Members exchanged uncertain glances, clearly unsettled by your warning. Silco, however, remained calm, though his expression grew noticeably colder. He said nothing in response and simply nodded before lifting his glass, signaling the beginning of the celebration for the Eye of Zaun’s new era.
You sensed his irritation, and so you chose to remain silent, sipping your drink quietly, telling yourself that this was his battle, not yours. You had given your warning in good faith. Whether he listened was up to him.
What you didn’t know then was that your words that day would open the first crack, one that would lead to the very first argument between you and your husband after returning home.
"You embarrassed me in front of my own people!" Silco’s voice rose sharply as he paced back and forth in front of his desk. His hands were restless. At times, he raked them through his hair. At others, he shoved them deep into his coat pockets. You would later come to recognize it as a nervous habit, something he did unconsciously whenever he was frustrated or unsettled.
You stubbed your cigarette out in the ceramic cup beside your velvet armchair and crossed your arms, watching him with visible irritation.
"I warned you because you’re about to make enemies on both sides, from Zaun and Piltover alike. My family won’t stay silent, and neither will Finn. You think he’s just going to let you swoop in and take what’s his? He’s already tried to kill you once. He won’t hesitate to try again."
He froze for a second, his brows knitting together before a bitter laugh escaped his throat.
"You’re a Piltie. Don’t pretend you know this city better than I do."
"Then I guess we’ll see, won’t we?"
You didn’t back down. Even as the words left your lips, you knew they would only push him further, but you couldn’t help yourself. You weren’t the type of woman to cower or play the obedient wife. And to your surprise, Silco didn’t respond with rage as you expected. His expression shifted for a fleeting second. There was something like surprise in his eyes, perhaps even confusion. He hadn’t expected you to challenge him so directly.
But you weren’t just any woman, and you certainly weren’t the kind of wife who would sit quietly and obey without question. That was something Silco needed to understand when he chose to marry you. Just like Sevika once advised you—make sure everyone knows exactly where you stand.
In the end, the fight ended as abruptly as it had begun. Silco stormed out of the house, slamming the door hard enough to make the windows shake. You remained in your armchair, calm and unmoved, then you reached for the whiskey and poured yourself a glass. You sipped it slowly, wondering absently where he would sleep tonight, or more likely with whom. Lest, perhaps? Or Margot?
Not that it was your business.
Let him rot wherever he pleased. That bastard!
Still, despite your irritation, a twinge of worry stirred somewhere deep inside you.
That was the moment you began to see Silco more clearly. Not just as a man of brilliance and vision, but as someone dangerously proud, reckless in ways that even his sharp mind couldn’t always control. He had a habit of overlooking things he shouldn’t, always assuming he could handle anything on his own.
But nothing in this world, especially in the tangled criminal underworld of two cities, ever came without consequence.
And you feared that one day, his flaws would catch up to him.
I asked a friend of mine (who lives abroad) to log in to my account and post this message to let my followers know that I’ve been having trouble accessing Tumblr for a while.
I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s possible that Tumblr might be blocked in my country (I live in Thailand, and several other Thai users have mentioned having the same issue)
Since I regularly update my fics on Tumblr, not being able to access the site means I can’t post new chapters there.
So for now, I’ll be updating new chapters of my fic (By Order of the Eye of Zaun) only on AO3 until I can figure out a way back to Tumblr. I’m thinking I might try using a VPN to see if that works.
BTW Thanks so much for your support <3 I'll be back as soon as I can.
