i am so sorry for the lack of emre follow up 😭 i wrote and deleted so many lines because i couldn’t really get the flow quite right then i got a job 💔 i hope to get the first chapter/prolougue up by end of the month !!
Happy March 29th! aka Ramattra's birthday. I decided, in honor of him, that I would write a short fic (he deserves the love, after all). I did my best to maintain a gender neutral view, but there are a few lines that are slightly suggestive of a specific sex.
NSFW!
Hold Tight
Null Sector had a great deal of planning and work that went on behind the scenes; left now only to yourself and Ramattra to solve together. You almost preferred it this way - just the two of you - has you had a special synergy that often times required no words to be understood.
He had been giving signals all day, whether he was aware of it or not. You could feel him look at you anytime your back was turned, as you passed one another he gave faint touches to your hands or leg. More than once he stepped behind you close enough that you could faintly feel his figure against your back, only to lean over your shoulder and make a hushed comment about today’s work in your ear. As the day neared its end, you playfully dragged your fingers along his chest as you walked out the door stating you were returning to your shared quarters. While Ramattra could work all night if he so pleased, you knew he was almost finished with one of his projects and would probably feel satisfied enough to take a break with you.
Knowing it would be at least an hour before he was finished, you decide to shower. You dry your hair enough that it is not soaking, and put a night shirt and underwear on before sitting on the edge of the bed. You feel a little tired, and stretch hoping Ramattra would arrive shortly. As you reach both of your hands to the ceiling, the door slides open and Ramattra walks in - he does not acknowledge you, but walks over to his desk and begins to fidget with its contents.
You knew exactly what he was doing.
Ever since the original Null Sector team had walked out, Ramattra began having difficulties allowing himself to experience much beyond his work. He felt tremendous guilt for a myriad of events and decisions that took place after developing Null Sector. He made sure you were hidden from public view so no one would be able to hold you accountable for Null Sector’s damages. He had fully convinced himself that he was to be the sole martyr; absorb all the pain and consequences. This did not mean he completely withheld himself from you - he was still the loving, considerate partner you had always known, but you could tell he didn’t think he deserved you anymore.
In the short time it took him to walk from the control room to your quarters, he had talked himself out of whatever he had been building up to throughout the day.
“Ramattra.”
His back remained turned to you, and he continued to mess around at his desk.
“Go to sleep, I will only be here a few minutes.”
You sigh and pout despite him not looking at you.
“Ramattra.” You say slightly louder, but still sweetly.
No response. Either he was intentionally ignoring you, or had already become lost in his own thoughts.
“Ramattra!” You say much more sternly and demanding.
He turns towards you in an instant and you could swear, even with his permanently stoic faceplate, that he felt like he was in trouble. You chuckle a little and reach your hand out to him. Your voice now more gentle, you state “Come here - please.”
He walks over silently and takes your hand, then stands before you still sitting on the bed. Before you can say anything his hand glides up your arm, neck, and then cups your face upwards as he touches his forehead to yours. He lingers for a moment, and you kiss his faceplate in response. Still having said nothing, he takes a step back and turns to leave you again.
If he could not overcome his own negative thoughts, then you would do it for him. Before he can fully turn, you reach out and grab the straps on his left thigh, and tug. He stops abruptly; at this point in the relationship, he subconsciously allows you to manipulate his body and movements despite the reality you would never have the strength to do so. He never wanted you to feel like you were completely powerless or inferior in this relationship.
He turns completely to you again, and you immediately grab the straps on his other thigh and pull. He allows himself to be jerked closer, which places his privacy plate mere inches from your face.
“What… what are you doing.” His voice sounded vulnerable and pleading. He wanted this - needed it. But part of his mind was still fighting to deprive him of any amount of pleasure. One of his hands finds its way on top of yours, and squeezes. A mute begging to save him from himself, if only for the night.
You hear, and you oblige.
One of your hands slips under the straps it had just been holding, and begins to gloss over his thigh and hip. The other hand pulls yet again, forcing his privacy plate to make contact with your mouth. You place a few tender kisses before slowly moving downwards, making exaggerated hot breaths onto his metal as you go. When you reach the very bottom of his plate, you begin to slowly glide your tongue up the full length of it all while looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. Ramattra, who had been completely speechless since his singular comment, let out such a deep reverberating growl that you could feel it on your tongue and finger tips.
If he was being honest, the mere sight of you was where most of his pleasure stemmed from. While he could most certainly feel what you were doing, his metal exterior was not as sensitive as human skin. His skill in meditation and focus came in handy in these moments; watching you perform enhanced whatever contact he was receiving.
When your tongue reached the top of his plate, you carefully nipped and kissed at the edges before returning to the bottom to repeat the process with your tongue. At the same time each of your hands had begun to creep into the crevices in his hips, finding the small, sensitive wires and pieces he had trusted you enough to explore a few times before.
Responding to the added sensations, one of Ramattra’s hands came to rest on the back of your head and in your hair. He moaned, his chest rising and falling as if trying to catch a breath he did not need. His cooling fans kicked into full gear, filling any silence that remained in the room.
As you continued your ministrations, Ramattra’s free hand reached to remove his privacy plate, and you immediately paused to stop him.
“No, not yet. Please… allow me to lead.” You gave him the sweetest look you could muster, knowing he often preferred to have control in your intimate moments. He tilted his head down at you, a little surprised at the boldness you had presented thus far today. He took your hand that had stopped his and moved it back to where it had been in his hips, then gingerly ran his fingers across your cheek.
“You may proceed as you wish, dearest.”
You smile up at him before kissing his plate again this time moaning into him, pleased with your success in persuasion. You could also hear Ramattra let out the smallest pleasured groan in response; seeing you content in his permissions only aroused him more.
After spending a little more time on his plate, your tongue began to wander to other areas searching for sensitive spots. Ramattra did his best to keep himself still, afraid he would pinch you between his metal joints and hard wiring. If you did find a particularly delicate spot Ramattra pushed the back of your head ever so slightly, encouraging extended attention to the area. Between your hands and your mouth, Ramattra was beginning to receive warnings that his cooling system was no longer keeping up.
You felt his form heating up, and heard his growls and moans becoming more consistent. You hadn’t expected him to like this so much - but you weren’t complaining. Though it did seem like good timing to change positions. You stopped and looked up at him, and he took the sign to remove his hand from the back of your head so you could pull away. Your hands moved back to his straps, enjoying the feeling of authority you have while gripping them.
“I want you on the bed. The plate remains on.”
He was quite intrigued by your sudden obsession with his privacy plate. He was eager to see what you had planned next… though he did have one request.
“I would like to remove your clothing before I do.”
At this he removed your hands from him and knelt before you, his hands lightly sliding up your thighs to rest on the band of your underwear. He looked at you, waiting for your permission; he had given you control, after all. You nodded.
“That seems fair.”
You positioned yourself so that he could pull your underwear down more easily - he took his time, always wanting to savor every image of you in these moments. He did the same pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the side, his hands briefly coming to your waist before remembering the agreement. He stood up then placed himself on the bed, and you wasted no time positioning yourself once he was settled, straddling his waist with your aching sex resting on his privacy plate.
His hands immediately went to your thighs and traveled up to your waist where he gave you a squeeze before going back. He pushed you down slightly, looking up at you like you might send his hands away. There were still flashes of self-doubt in his mind, that he didn't deserve this attention from you. To touch you, even.
You responded by placing one of your hands on top of his, solidifying the contact. You leaned back slightly putting your other hand behind you on his thigh, grasping the familiar straps - you wondered why you waited until today to appreciate this particular garment choice. Slowly you began to grind on his privacy plate, eliciting soft moans that increased in volume the more you slid over the hump and indentations.
Ramattra was truly soaking in the sight of you; such a rare one, as he often preferred to be on top. Your face was red and your body was starting to become beaded with sweat. His plate was shiny from your slick, and your ever growing moans and whimpers were filling every empty space of the room. His cooling fans were struggling yet again, the amount of pleasure he felt from your actions a welcome surprise. He gripped your thighs even more firmly - there would be bruises no doubt - and pulled you down on him as hard as he could without hurting you. This evoked a yelp from you, and growls from Ramattra as he involuntarily bucked upwards. Your hand that had been a hold of his own moved to the wires on his waist and began to fondle.
Ramattra could not withhold the grunts and hip thrusts that followed in time with your rutting back and forth. Your fingers working deftly on his waist was exactly what he needed to match the ecstasy you were experiencing, and he could tell you were both close.
Yes, you most certainly were. With each of his thrusts upwards, there was a pressure that sent a wave of pleasure through your body. Your legs began to tremble, and you could hardly keep a steady pace. Between pants you said his name.
"Ramattra... I-"
He spoke out, his voice slightly glitching from the exhilaration.
"I know you are almost at your end my darling pet... release with me."
Like your body had been waiting for permission, you cried out as you climaxed, both of your hands coming forward and clutching his chest to hold steady. You took ragged breathes, your body shaking to regain its sense of self again.
Ramattra's hands twitched and loosened on your thighs as his systems processed the sensual bliss you had pushed him into. He felt you brace yourself against him, and the wetness pooling on his plate as a result of your orgasm.
He let out a guttural sigh, the static throughout his body slowly beginning to dissipate. His hands found their way to your chest and then to your cheeks, cupping your face. He pushed himself up enough to touch his forehead to yours, holding the position as he looked over your spent body. You smiled in response, sacrificing the support of one hand to find the side of his faceplate. A few moments of silence passed, each enjoying the sounds of one another recuperating from the high. Ramattra's hand that held your cheek went to yours on his faceplate, keeping it there as he turned to nudge a phantom kiss into your palm. He then brought it down, holding it to where his heart would be, if he had one. Through his chest you could feel his cooling fans still hard at work, and the rise and fall of his unnecessary breathing - a subconscious trait many omnics that lived in Shambali possessed. His other hand gently touched under your chin to bring your gaze directly into his own.
"While I sometimes doubt that I am deserving of you... my love is undeniable."
You chuckle lightly in response, giving a small kiss to his purple jaw.
"You will always be deserving of my love, and I will always be willing to give it."
Ramattra wrapped his arms around you, rolling you both to the side where you remained in an intimate embrace for some time after.
its not fair that caleb is the only one with the childhood friend troupe, now is it?
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who you met for the first time when his father brought him over to one of the meetings he had with your father. he stared at you from the sofa while you played with your dolls and dollhouse on the floor nearby.
you were 4, he was 6.
he grabbed one of the dolls you had set aside and made her walk towards the dolls you held in your hand. putting in a high pitched voice and asked if you had any cooler dolls.
you frown at him and pout, muttering a small no before trying to snatch your doll back from him. he chuckles before giving in and joining you and your dolls in the tea party.
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who you met again while at one of your parent’s fancy exorbitant networking events. his tie crooked and sleeves rolled up clumsily that showed his arm littered in faint scars.
you were 5, he was 7.
“do they hurt?” you meekly asked, peeking from behind your father’s leg. you point at his arm. he shakes his head and pulls his dress shirt slightly up to see a giant bruise on his abdomen.
“i’m strong. see?”
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who threw pebbles at your window to get your attention, then would sneak you out on his bicycle to the bridge near your house.
you were 8, he was 10.
“you’re going too fast, sy!” you gripped onto his shirt with white knuckles. fearing you’d fall off and you’ll have to explain to your parents how you got injured.
“where’s the fun in that? we’re gonna miss the fireworks!” he’s so carefree, probably comes from not having the most attentive parents that had proper expectations of his behavior.
“we won’t see the fireworks if we crash, dummy!” your grip somehow tightens even more. you caught the new year fireworks, smiling and laughing despite both of you guy’s knees and elbows scraped to varying degrees because sylus was in fact, going too fast.
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who always forgot his lunch at home and insisted he wasn’t hungry, yet his stomach always betrays him and starts growling.
you were 11, he was 13.
“c’mon sy,” you wave your cheese baked rice in his face. “are you sure you don’t want a bite? not even a littttle bit?”
“tch,” he scoffs, turning his head away. “i don’t want any. i’m fine, i’ll eat when i’m home.”
“one bite?” you offer, a bite already on your fork. sylus’s cheeks faintly flush before turning around and sharing your lunch
and so, you tell your chef to start preparing larger portions, chalking it up to being a growing teen. he doesn’t question anything since you always come home to a clean tin but he’s not blind, he knows you’re not growing that much.
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who took you on a ride on his brand new shiny motorcycle the moment he gets his license, and gifts you your own helmet.
you were 15, he was 17.
you were running late, class ended late because timothy just had to open his fat mouth and remind the class that the teacher forgot to collect the homework. homework you had not done because sylus took you out on a joyride at 12am.
you walked out of school and saw sylus, leaning against his new bike. whispers from girls talking about what a handsome guy like him was doing outside of school. boys gawked at his bike and how expensive it was and how he could even afford it, probably daddy’s money.
“get on,” he tosses you a motocycle helmet, in your favourite color. “before the paparazzi gets me and you.”
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who, to no one’s surprise has his admirers but has rejected every single one, they never needed to go too far because sylus always cut them off.
you were 17, he was 19.
you shove the slice of pizza down your throat. sylus chuckles at the sight, taking a slice for himself.
“so today, some girl came up to me and asked me for directions to the train station” he starts the story, pausing to make sure you were listening. “and i told her the directions.”
“and then what” you take a sip of the soda. “was she pretty?”
“then, she said she still didn’t understand. she wrapped her arms around mine, asked me to bring her and tried to make me move” he continues. “obviously, i didn’t budge and she just awkwardly walked away.”
“and no, you’re prettier than her.”
your heart skips a beat, you don’t know if its because you were jealous or if the situation was so ridiculous that it didn’t even seem real. or maybe it’s because sylus just called you pretty.
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who calls you to pick him up when hes has a little too much to drink and who wanted you to stay the night with him.
you were 19, he was 21.
“you really need to stop eating big back,” you groan as you tried to drag sylus into your room. “you’re so heavy.”
“mm not, you’re just weak…” he mumbles, barely coherent and stumbling on his own feet.
you gently set him down on your bed, taking a moment to catch your breath before undressing him to get him into something more comfortable.
“undressing me kitten?…. take me to dinner first…” he slurs, his hand grabs onto your wrists as you reach to unbutton his top.
“i’m going to strangle you.” you warn, you shake his hand off and begin slipping the shirt off him and tossing it to the floor.
“very naughty kitten…” he teases, you roll your eyes and decided to get off your chair to grab a cold towel to wipe him down. yet, you feel a tug on your shirt as you got up. “don’t leave. ‘need you…”
your heart aches in a way like never before.
ᯓ childhood friend! sylus who finally confessed to you on your 21st birthday.
you were 21, he was 23.
“where are you taking me sy?” you excitedly sat on the back of his bike, “its my birthday you knowww?”
he chuckles and tosses one of his ties at you. you stare back at him, puzzled.
“its a surprise, kitten.” he fixes the blindfold on you and ruffles your hair. “you’ll see when you get there.
“this seems like a very very illegal road violation…” you mumbled under your breath but obediently comply anyway, having full trust that sylus wouldn’t let you get hurt.
the bike stops and you reach to remove the blindfold when sylus grabs your hands,
“no need to be so impatient, just a bit more. okay?” he reassures and you nod, he bends down and grabs your knees and carries you with one arm. he sits you down on a what feels like very comfortable plush chair.
he brought you to that very same bridge that you two saw new years fireworks at 13 years ago, the bridge has now long been abandoned and nature has slowly reclaimed it over the years. it’s usually dull had become a place that people came to for some peace and quiet.
except now the bridge had been decorated in flowers, all in your favourite color. there was a small mat laid down, a picnic basket and a small box was the centre of it all.
“sylus. this…” you began. but he cuts you off.
“i’m sorry i went too fast and we ended up crashing when we were younger, i just didn’t want to miss the fireworks with someone so important.” he confesses. “i’m sorry i ate all your la mian that one time.”
“you’ve been my best friend for 17 years. and for as long as i’ve had feelings, they have always been for you.” he continues, “i rejected every girl without hesitation because they weren’t you.”
“you trusted me to drive you around even though i never actually got my bike license.”
“sylus qin che are you fucking jo-” he covers your mouth gently.
“i- i’m not that good with words. you know that…” he grabs your hand and brings it up to his heart. “but you live here, you always have and you always will.”
“so, can i please be your boyfriend?” he opens the small box and it reveals a black ring, a crow motif and a ruby crystal embellished it.
his words, while lacking length was more than made up for with it’s sincerity, tugged on your heartstrings like a musician playing the same song they have always practiced. and in a way, sylus has been that artist, every action tugged and made your heart swell with so much adoration and love.
you crash onto him and he catches you effortlessly. so thats what it was. your lips and his meet for the first time, despite both of you yearning for this for years.
effortless. loving sylus was, and always has been effortless.
˙⋆✮ pairing: warlord!sylus x non-mc reader part two
˙⋆✮ cw: MDNI! DARK, fem!reader, non-mc reader, warring states period au, historical au, warlord!sylus, second wife!reader arranged/forced marriage, marriage of convenience/political marriage, political intrigue, angst, DDDNE, it gets worse before it gets better, tw pregnancy, tw miscarriage, tw poisoning, tw manipulation, tw death, confinement, tw implied sa (not between sylus and reader), tw gaslighting, tw murder, hurt no comfort (for now), possibly OOC sylus, unbeta'd, unedited.
˙⋆✮ a/n: please mind the warnings, this continuation is going to be DARK. i kind of overdid it and went full game of thrones/historical drama. if i missed a tw or cw, please let me know so i can add them 🥹
Part One | Part Three (Coming Soon) | LADs Masterlist | AO3
six months into your marriage, mei's sister arrives at court.
lingyue carries a portrait of mei everywhere, her eyes perpetually red-rimmed with grief.
she's delicate, soft-spoken, devoted to her sister's memory.
she introduces herself as mei’s former lady in waiting and attendant to luke and kieran, apologizing tearfully for still finding it difficult to speak of her loss.
she tells you mei was everything.
how mei was beautiful, wise, and kind. the boys adored her. lord sylus loved her so much. they were so happy. she looks at you with pity, telling you how difficult it must be, from being a hostage to becoming sylus' second wife, and following such a woman like her sister.
the words land like small knives, each one precisely placed.
you assure her you are not trying to replace mei. she smiles sadly, agreeing that of course you couldn't, how could anyone, she just worries about the boys needing stability and familiar faces.
you have no reason to refuse when she asks to continue caring for them.
over the following weeks, lingyue is everywhere. at dinners, at the boys' lessons, in the gardens. always with that mournful expression, always mentioning mei.
mei loved chrysanthemums.
mei always wore jade.
lord sylus smiled more before mei died.
it's like living with a ghost made flesh.
but worse are the moments when you catch her watching you with something cold behind her eyes, there and gone so quickly you think you have imagined it.
you also notice how she tries to position herself with luke and kieran.
telling them stories about their mother, yes, but always with herself at the center.
your mother and i used to do this. your mother would want me to teach you that. when your mother was gone, who took care of you? who stayed?
the boys are polite but distant with her. they don't pull away when she touches them, but they don't lean into her either.
one day you overhear her speaking to them in the garden. her voice is sweet, cajoling.
you know i love you as if you were my own sons, don't you? if anything ever happened, i would take care of you. i would be here. always.
there's something in her tone that makes your skin crawl.
luke's response is cool.
we know, aunt lingyue. but nothing will happen. father is strong and we have our new mother now.
you see something flash across lingyue's face.
rage.
luke and kieran, meanwhile, are slowly becoming yours.
it starts small.
they ask you to judge their archery competitions.
you are fair, you do notlet them cheat, and actually teach them proper form.
they are surprised, most adults either let them win or dismiss them entirely.
then they start seeking you out for other things.
to help with their studies.
someone to practice strategy games with who actually challenges them.
kieran brings you a book about military tactics and asks your opinion.
luke shows you a sketch he made and waits nervously for your response.
you tell them stories about your own brothers.
the eldest who used to sneak you sweets. the second who taught you calligraphy and how to wield a dagger in secret. the third who was always climbing things he shouldn't.
the twins listen with hungry attention, they have never had anyone speak to them like this. not as the emperor’s heirs, but as children who have lost important people in their lives too.
one afternoon, you find kieran crying in the garden.
the anniversary of mei's death is approaching. you sit with him. you do not tell him not to cry, you just stay present. when he finally speaks, he says you remind him of her.
not in looks or manner, but in the way you make him feel safe.
luke overhears.
says quietly that their mother used to listen like you do. used to take them seriously.
aunt lingyue is always sad, always talking about how much the have lost, but you talk about what they still have.
you realize with a start that you love these boys, fiercely.
they may not be your flesh and blood, but they are slowly becoming your sons.
lingyue notices.
you catch her watching when luke holds your hand in the garden.
when kieran falls asleep against your shoulder during evening readings.
her expression is unreadable, it continues to make your skin crawl.
on the other hand, you and sylus continue your careful dance.
he brings you to every council meeting now.
his generals have stopped looking surprised at your presence or when you speak.
you have proven yourself competent and insightful.
you understand both empires, your fallen kingdom and his rising one, and you build bridges between them.
one night, working late over maps and census reports, sylus’ hand brushes yours reaching for the same document. you both freeze and he apologizes, you tell him not to. but he catches your wrist gently. his thumb rests against your pulse point.
he says he should let you go but does not release your wrist.
you agree but don't pull away.
for a moment, you think he might kiss you. his gaze drops to your lips, and your breath catches, and the air between you pulls taut—
then lingyue appears in the doorway with tea.
her eyes widen. she apologizes for interrupting.
sylus releases your wrist like it burned him.
the moment shatters.
he tells you it's late, that you should rest.
you flee before he can see the tears burning your eyes.
three months later, you discover you're pregnant.
it happened during one of the nights that duty demands you to partake in your marital bed, both of you trying not to think too hard about what you were doing.
but now there's a child.
his child.
growing inside you.
you are happy.
maybe this will be a bridge.
maybe this will make him see you as more than a political necessity.
maybe he will finally see you as a real wife, not a hostage.
you confide in your maid, asking her to prepare special teas for pregnancy.
you want to wait a bit longer before telling sylus, you want to be sure.
but then, everything begins to unravel.
it starts small.
mei's jewelry appears in your chambers.
you do not know how it got there.
you have never touched her things, but when sylus sees you with the jade bracelet, his face falls.
you try to explain that you found it on your dressing table, that you didn't take it, but lingyue appears with worried concern, suggesting perhaps you were curious, it's natural to want nice things after all.
sylus walks away before you can defend yourself further.
then there are the whispers.
some servants mention seeing you in the west garden at odd hours. near mei's shrine.
someone claims you were heard speaking ill of the late empress.
it's all lies, but they pile up like stones, building a wall between you and any credibility.
lingyue begins visiting you more frequently during this time.
always with that concerned expression, always bringing tea.
special blends, she says. to help you stay calm during these difficult times, with all the stress of the growing tension with your former kingdom's loyalists.
you drink it, desperate for any comfort, any kindness in the isolation growing around you.
you don't notice how tired you become.
how your body feels increasingly weak.
then documents start appearing with your seal.
correspondence with remaining loyalists from your kingdom. letters suggesting rebellion, betrayal, plans to murder sylus and reclaim your throne.
you have never seen them before.
the handwriting looks like yours but it is not.
the seal must have been forged.
but when the evidence is brought before the council, even you have to admit it looks damning.
sylus' voice is ice when he demands an explanation, his eyes harder than they were on the day he conquered your kingdom.
you realize with dawning horror that he believes it.
he actually believes you would betray him.
you insist you didn't write the letters, that someone is framing you.
he demands to know who.
who would have access to your seal? who could forge your hand so perfectly?
you don't have an answer. you don't know.
luke and kieran try to speak for you, but they are children.
no one listens.
one of the generals actually laughs, suggesting the princes are too young to understand politics, too attached to their new stepmother to see clearly.
worse, envoys from your former kingdom arrive.
they have heard rumors that you have been living as sylus' whore.
that you spread your legs for the conqueror to save yourself, not them.
they are disgusted and ashamed.
you lose all your hope and your own people won't speak in your defense.
you are confined to your chambers. guards posted outside the doors.
you are cut off from everyone except lingyue, who visits with false concern, saying she tried to tell them you wouldn't do this, but the evidence seems so damning.
she brings you more tea.
to help with the stress, she says. to keep your strength up.
you drink it.
you are so alone, so desperate for any kindness, that you do not think hard about it.
you are alone.
trapped.
and pregnant with a child you can't tell anyone about because now it would look like a desperate ploy.
a month passes.
a month of isolation, of morning sickness you hide, of watching your world crumble through the bars of your gilded cage.
there's a banquet but you are not invited, traitors do not attend court functions. but you hear about it later from whispered servant gossip. how lingyue appeared in stunning robes, how she sat near sylus, how she kept his wine cup filled.
three weeks later, lingyue announces she's pregnant.
you hear it from the servants first, the whisper spreading like wildfire through the palace. then sylus himself comes to your chambers, won't meet your eyes, tells you that needs to explain something.
he tells you about the banquet, he doesn't remember much of it.
he tells you woke up the morning after and lingyue was there, on his bed, naked.
it was wrong, dishonorable, but it happened, and now there are consequences.
she's pregnant.
she's claiming it’s nearly three weeks along, which would make the timing match the banquet, though you know enough about pregnancy to realize she should barely be showing symptoms yet.
but no one questions it. why would they?
mei's beloved sister is carrying the emperor's child.
he's taking her as a concubine. he has to, the council demands it, her family demands it, the child deserves recognition.
he is sorry.
but his apologies don’t fix anything.
sorry doesn't change that he's giving her everything you desperately wanted, a child acknowledged and honored, while your own pregnancy, his legitimate child, conceived in your lawful marriage, withers as a secret and unspoken in your womb.
you can not tell him now.
it’s too late
he will think you are lying, that it's a ruse, so you stay silent and feel your heart turn to stone.
lingyue moves into honored quarters for concubines.
she's celebrated, fawned over, treated as the mother of sylus' child.
she continues to play the role of mei's devoted sister perfectly, sighing that mei would have wanted this, that she always said sylus deserved happiness.
that it's poetic, really, mei's sister giving sylus another child, another heir that mei would have wanted him to have.
and then she begins her political maneuvering in earnest.
she influences the council with careful words and quiet suggestions.
the empress' territories should be redistributed as punishment for her treason, shouldn't they?
her people cannot be trusted, they raised a woman who would betray her husband. perhaps a harsher hand is needed. perhaps steeper taxes. perhaps mandatory conscription to the army to prove their loyalty.
several council members agree.
general zhao, who never trusted your kingdom's surrender.
minister feng, who lost his heir during the conquest of your kingdom, felled by one of your brothers.
others who see opportunity in your downfall.
but there are also voices of caution.
minister shen points out that the evidence, while damning, deserves thorough investigation.
general wei notes that the you have proven yourself competent in ruling, would a woman plotting rebellion really work so diligently to improve the empire?
the council is divided.
some hedge their bets, waiting to see which way the wind blows.
but the loudest voices, zhao, feng, and their allies, begin calling for your formal divorce.
not just confinement, complete dissolution of the marriage.
you are a traitor, they argue. you have brought shame to the emperor.
he should cast you aside and marry properly.
someone worthy. someone like...
well, if lingyue is already carrying his child...
the pressure builds.
every council meeting, the same voices.
divorce her. exile her.
some even whisper, execute her.
sylus refuses.
you are still his empress, he says sternly, still his wife.
the evidence will be investigated fully before any permanent decisions are made.
but you can see the doubt in his eyes. the way he won't look at you during the few times he would visit your chambers and the way his jaw tightens when the council mentions divorce.
he's considering it.
your people face harsher treatment under the new policies.
you watch your world crumble from your gilded cage, helpless to stop it.
the stress takes its toll.
morning sickness you can't hide becomes weight loss you can't explain.
you are exhausted, hollow, dying from the inside out.
lingyue's teas continue.
she's so worried and so concerned.
she brings them herself now that you are confined.
special herbs to help you stay calm, to help you sleep, to ease your troubled mind.
you continue to drink them.
luke and kieran notice you are getting worse.
they have been trying to visit you, but lingyue keeps them away.
it's not appropriate, she says sweetly, for the princes to visit a woman accused of treason.
but they are stubborn and clever. they sneak past guards, find the servant entrance to your chambers.
they appear one night, twin faces full of worry.
they announce that you are sick, that they do not believe you betrayed their father, that those letters are lies.
kieran says he knows your handwriting.
you have been teaching him calligraphy for months.
those letters are not the same. the characters are similar but the brush pressure is different, the flow is wrong.
luke says he has overheard servants who had claimed to have seen you in the west garden at odd hours are the same servants who started receiving new jewelry around the same time.
someone paid them.
you break.
finally, after months of holding yourself together, you allow yourself to break.
you tell them you are sick.
that something feels wrong.
you tell them about the whispers, the planted evidence, the too-perfect timing of everything.
you tell them you suspect someone is framing you, though you have no proof.
you don't mention the pregnancy. you haven't told anyone, not even your maid.
It's still too early, too precious, too terrifying to speak aloud when everything else is crumbling around you. when you still don’t know who is framing you.
but you tell them you are frightened. that you feel trapped.
that you don't know who to trust anymore except them.
they listen with identical expressions of fury.
kieran says they will help.
they will find proof.
luke's voice is cold, colder than you've ever heard from a ten-year-old, when he says they do not believe you are a traitor. they know you.
they will prove your innocence.
they promise to find the truth. for you. for justice.
but the next morning, before they can begin investigating properly, you wake in a pool of blood.
the baby is gone.
you lose your child alone in the dark, with only a frightened maid to help you.
the girl is loyal, at least. she doesn't run for the guards or the physicians.
she brings you sheets, holds your hand, cries with you.
the physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional devastation.
you have truly lost everything.
your family, your kingdom, sylus's trust, and now your baby.
the one thing that was purely yours and his, the one hope you had of a bridge between you.
gone.
you didn't even get to tell anyone.
not even sylus.
the baby is just gone.
you make the maid swear never to tell anyone. not the guards. not the physicians. not even the emperor.
no one can know.
they will think you are lying, making it up for sympathy. or worse, they'll use it as added evidence that you are unfit to continue being the empress, that your womb is barren and weak.
the maid promises through her tears.
she'll burn the bloodied sheets, she'll say nothing.
your secret will die with the child who never got to live.
when lingyue visits the next day, her expression of concern is obscene.
she mentions hearing about your unfortunate health troubles.
how the servants noticed you were unwell last night.
how she hopes you're recovering.
she brings you the same tea.
says it will help with the pain, help you rest.
you stare at the cup.
something feels wrong.
you can not explain it nor can you put it into words.
but there's something about the way lingyue is looking at you.
something about how insistent she's been these past weeks that you drink the tea she brings.
how she always watches to make sure you finish it.
how she always takes the cup away with her when she leaves.
you remember the taste.
slightly bitter beneath the honey and herbs.
how you have felt increasingly weak, increasingly tired after you started drinking it.
after she started giving it to you.
you do not know anything for certain.
you have no proof.
but your instincts, the same instincts that helped you survive the fall of your kingdom, that helped you navigate sylus' court, are screaming at you.
don't drink it.
you tell her you are not thirsty. that your stomach can't handle anything right now.
lingyue's smile doesn't waver, but something flickers in her eyes.
she sets the cup down beside you. you should try, she says gently. it will help you heal.
when you still don't reach for it, she sighs softly.
as you wish. rest well.
she leaves, taking the cup with her.
you stare at the door long after she's gone, heart pounding.
you don't know what's in that tea. you don't know if your suspicions are real or if the stress and grief are making you paranoid.
but you're not drinking it again.
not ever.
two months pass.
two months of slow recovery. two months of continued isolation.
two months of hearing lingyue grow more confident, more secure in her position as the emperor's favored concubine carrying his heir.
two months of luke and kieran sneaking to your chambers, bringing you small comforts, whispering that they are still investigating, that they are doing their best to prove your innocence.
two months of lingyue bringing you tea you never drink, her eyes growing colder each time you refuse.
then lingyue also loses her baby.
you hear the wailing from your chambers.
servants rushing, physicians called. the whole palace in uproar.
she claims she lost the baby, and this time, she blames you.
she sobs to the court that you sent her poisoned sweets.
that despite being confined, you somehow managed to smuggle poison to her chambers. that you were so consumed with jealousy and hatred that you murdered her innocent child.
you are brought to the council chambers immediately, confused about the accusations that lingyue has thrown.
general zhao demands your immediate execution.
minister feng calls for torture to extract a confession.
the voices from the faction that opposes your continued existence as the empress despite your supposed treason, grow louder and more vicious.
but sylus, for the first time since this nightmare began, hesitates.
he looks at you.
truly looks at you. sees how thin you have become, how you have lost your color, how utterly broken. sees the guards posted at your door, the isolation, the complete lack of resources.
his voice cuts through the chaos.
how? he asks. how could she have done this?
the council falls silent.
how could a woman confined to her chambers, with no visitors except lingyue herself and a handful of loyal servants, with no allies, no resources, no freedom, how could she possibly smuggle poison to the concubine's quarters?
general zhao sputters.
she has loyalists, she must have—
sylus's gaze is ice.
he asks him to name one.
name a single person who has access to both the empress's chambers and the noble consort's quarters.
name one servant who could have carried poison without being searched by the guards he personally stationed.
silence.
minister feng tries. perhaps youhad poison hidden from before—
sylus cuts him off.
the empress has been confined for months. her chambers have been searched three times. every gift, every item, every scrap of fabric examined. where exactly would she hide poison? and how would she get it to lingyue without any contact?
the logic is inescapable.
minister shen speaks up from the cautious faction.
he suggests investigating lingyue’s claims as thoroughly as they have investigated the empress's alleged treason.
murmurs of agreement from some council members. not all, zhao and feng's faction still push for your punishment, but it is enough to make sylus pause.
you watch something shift in sylus's expression.
doubt.
not doubt in your guilt for the original treason charges, the forged letters still seem real.
but doubt that you could have done this.
doubt that lingyue's convenient miscarriage is what it appears to be.
it's not exoneration.
not yet.
but it's the first crack in lingyue's perfect facade.
lingyue sees it too.
you watch panic flash across her face before she buries it in tears, claiming the trauma has confused her, perhaps she was mistaken about the sweets, perhaps it was just the stress of being a concubine.
she's elevated to noble consort anyway, a compensation for her loss, protection from future harm.
but sylus's eyes linger on her with something new.
suspicion.
the trap is still set.
lingyue still has her rank, her position, the council's support, though not unanimous anymore. sylus is still bound to her politically.
you are still the disgraced empress who allegedly committed treason.
but the seeds of doubt have been planted.
and luke and kieran are still investigating.
while you recover from the miscarriage, body healing even as your spirit remains shattered, luke and kieran work in the shadows.
they are ten years old and brilliant and determined and furious.
they whisper one night that they have found something.
inconsistencies in lingyue's stories.
dates that do not match.
servants who remember her in places she claimed not to be.
she was in the kitchen months before their mother died. the head cook remembers because she was asking about herbs, specific herbs, wanting to know their properties. medicinal uses. toxic doses.
the cook thought it strange but lingyue said she wanted to understand what the physicians were giving mei.
your blood runs cold.
they think lingyue killed their mother. and now she's trying to take her place, and yours.
it's almost too horrible to believe.
but it makes terrible sense.
mei died suddenly of mysterious illness.
lingyue insisting to continue staying after, a worried sister caring for her sister’s family, her children, her husband.
she's been here ever since, weaving herself into the fabric of sylus's household, waiting for her chance.
you tell them you need proof. real proof. their father and the council would not believe suspicions.
they nod with grim determination, promising to find it.
the proof comes from an unexpected source.
one of the palace physicians, an old man who served under mei, comes forward.
he's been troubled for years by mei's death.
the symptoms didn't quite fit natural illness, but he had no proof.
sudden deaths are not uncommon but these things happen.
until lingyue made a mistake.
she came to him, claiming pregnancy symptoms. morning sickness, fatigue, tender breasts. but her descriptions were wrong. slightly off. a woman who had never been pregnant, trying to fake the experience based on things she had heard or read.
when lingyue is elevated as a concubine, the physician lurks in the shadows, he observes, time had passed but her belly was still flat, her face had not changed, no other physical symptom that would prove the pregnancy's existence.
when he suggested an examination to ensure the baby's health, she became flustered, said it was too early, she would call for him if there is anything to report.
she never did.
then the miscarriage happened and she confined herself to her chambers after the incident at court, she refused to see palace physicians and let them tend to her, to examine her.
this pushes him to investigate further, loyal to sylus’ house, the family who had sponsored his education, the family whom he served since his apprenticeship.
he starts with quiet inquiries. old records.
he found the herbalist who had sold lingyue some herbs, the man had fled the capital years ago but the physician tracked him down, paid him for the truth.
he found the midwife lingyue bribed to provide evidence of pregnancy, who claim she'd examined lingyue and confirmed that she was with child.
he found the servants who'd been paid to plant evidence in your chambers, to spread rumors, to lie about seeing you in places you'd never been.
and then, going through the records of your confinement, he found something else.
servants noting you'd been unwell one night.
bloodied sheets that were quickly burned.
a maid who'd been given extra coin, he'd assumed for silence about some minor embarrassment.
but when he questioned the maid privately, she'd broken down.
you had been pregnant, she says sobbing, you had lost the child, the emperor's heir, while being imprisoned in your chambers. you had made her swear never to tell anyone.
the physician's hands shake as he compiles his final report.
the empress had been carrying the emperor's child. and she had lost it, almost certainly due to the stress of false accusations combine but there must be something else as well, he needs to know more.
but he brings his initial findings to luke and kieran first, knowing the princes have the emperor's ear even if you no longer don't.
believing that a father might dismiss an old physician but would never dismiss his own sons.
the boys read the report about your miscarriage and go absolutely still.
their father had lost another child, their sibling, their little brother or sister.
they lost another member of their family, this time someone they never had the chance to meet.
you had lost a baby alone in the dark, believing yourself disgraced, unable to even speak its existence aloud.
they bring everything to sylus.
you watch it unfold from your chambers.
hear the shouting, the running footsteps.
watch lingyue dragged from her rooms by guards, screaming about how she loved sylus, how she deserved to be his wife, how you were never good enough.
sylus' voice carries through the palace, cold with a rage you have never ever heard before.
he is demanding answers.
he is demanding the truth.
lingyue is brought before the full court with every noble, every general, every servant who spread her lies.
your maid, the same one who burned the sheets who kept your secret, helps you out of your chambers to witness what's happening.
sylus makes her confess.
publicly and in excruciating detail.
the physician testifies first, his voice heavy with old guilt.
mei's death looked sudden.
one day she seemed well, the next she was burning with fever and convulsing.
dead within two days.
but it wasn't sudden at all.
he'd been reviewing his old notes, records he kept of mei's health over the years.
the fatigue mei complained about in her final months. the occasional fevers. the unexplained weakness. he'd attributed it to stress, sylus was planning major military campaigns, preparing to conquer new territories. the palace was tense, busy. of course the empress was tired.
he was wrong.
lingyue had been poisoning mei for at least six months before her death. small doses, carefully calculated. building up in her system. weakening her gradually.
the timing was deliberate.
sylus was planning his conquests.
preparing to expand his empire. he would need an empress by his side, a strong one, a healthy one, one who could manage the palace while he was at war, who could bear more children to secure the succession.
lingyue saw her opportunity.
mei was tired from raising twins, managing a kingdom about to go to war.
if she seemed weak, seemed unable to handle the pressure...
if she died at just the right moment...
sylus would need to remarry, quickly.
maybe someone close to the family.
he already has his heirs, he has freedom to choose his second wife.
maybe someone who already knew the children, knew the household.
someone like his late wife's devoted sister.
the physician's hands shake.
mei likely didn't even realize she was sick. just thought she was tired. overworked. getting older.
the final dose, administered the night before mei's sudden illness, was massive.
it triggered the acute symptoms everyone witnessed. the fever, the rapid decline.
it looked sudden because the final attack was sudden.
but mei had been dying slowly for months.
he should have seen it. should have tested for toxins and poisons.
but who would suspect anything?
the court is silent, horrified.
sylus’ face is carved from stone, but you see his hands clench.
he had thought mei died of natural illness.
swift, tragic, but natural.
in truth, she was murdered.
slowly.
by someone she trusted, by someone she loved.
by her own sister.
but the physician continues.
there's more, he says.
they found lingyue's private journals when they searched her chambers.
plans. strategies. written in her own hand.
if luke and kieran could not be molded to love her as a mother, if they remained loyal to mei's memory, if they rejected her, she would arrange accidents.
tragic accidents.
children fall from horses. children eat poisoned sweets meant for someone else.
children disappear during hunting trips.
then her own child, the one she planned to have with sylus, would become the sole heir.
the court erupts in horrified shouting.
luke and kieran sit frozen, faces pale.
they are ten years old and just learned their aunt planned to murder them.
sylus' hands are shaking with barely controlled rage.
not only did lingyue kill his wife, she also planned to kill his sons.
you feel sick.
you had saved them without knowing.
by becoming their stepmother, by winning their love,
you had made them too visible, too beloved.
lingyue could not touch them without suspicion falling on her.
so she had tried to destroy you instead.
the herbalist testifies next.
tells how lingyue came to him years ago, asking about poisons. slow-acting ones that mimic natural illness. he had sold her what she wanted, he needed the money, did not ask questions. did not suspect anything.
the midwife admits she was paid to lie about examining lingyue, to confirm a pregnancy that never existed.
the servants confess to planting mei's jewelry in your chambers, to spreading rumors, to claiming they saw you near the shrine at odd hours.
they beg for mercy, saying lingyue paid them, threatened them, they were afraid, they are only servants and easily disposable.
then the physician presents his final piece of evidence.
the report about your own miscarriage.
the court goes utterly silent as he reads it aloud.
the empress had been pregnant. approximately two months along when the accusations began. she lost the babe during her confinement. the maid who attended her was sworn to secrecy, the empress believed no one would believe her. she was afraid.
every eye in the court turns to you.
you feel exposed. violated. your most private grief now public knowledge.
sylus doesn't look at you.
he can't look at you.
his hands are white-knuckled on the armrests of his throne.
the physician's voice is heavy when he concludes.
based on his investigation, the miscarriage was caused by a combination of extreme stress of the accusations, of the confinement, and the poison lingyue had been secretly administering through the teas she brought you.
the same poison she used on empress mei, but in smaller, more measured doses.
the court explodes into chaos.
lingyue is forced to confess the rest.
everything.
she admits she forged the letters.
bribed the servants.
planted mei's jewelry.
spread rumors through your former kingdom.
she admits drugged sylus at the banquet, there was no child, could never be a child because sylus did not touch her, did not dishonor her, nothing happened between them that night and she faked it all.
and why did she cause your miscarriage instead of stealing your baby as she had originally planned?
the court goes silent, waiting.
lingyue's voice is bitter.
because sylus would not exile you despite everything she did.
because he would not cast you aside even when most of the council is pressuring him to.
because he refuses to dissolve your marriage.
you were still there, still visible, still technically empress.
she could not steal a baby from a woman who was confined but not gone.
there are too many potential witnesses, too many ears, too much risk.
so she made sure you lost it.
the teas she brought you, gentle poisons, enough to weaken you, to make your body unable to sustain a pregnancy under the stress she was orchestrating.
she made sure your baby died.
and then she staged her own loss, blame it on you to gain more power, a higher position, protection.
If she became noble consort, she would be untouchable, and sylus would be forced to share her bed as the laws dictate.
her plan was perfect, with that rank and the council's support, sylus could never set her aside. and with you branded as a traitor and unfit mother, then he could never risk another child with you.
the council would never allow it.
she had won or thought she had.
until luke and kieran brought proof of her crimes.
the court sits in stunned silence.
minister shen, emboldened by the confessions, demands to know.
why? why would mei's own sister do such monstrous things?
lingyue's mask finally shatters completely.
she screams that she saw sylus first.
she loved him first.
she was fifteen and sylus was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen, strong, dangerous, beautiful.
she attended a border negotiation with her father, and there he was.
she fell completely.
but when marriage discussions began two years later, sylus only had eyes for mei.
mei, the legitimate daughter.
mei with her grace and beauty and proper birth.
mei who could be a real empress, not the bastard half-sister born to a concubine.
lingyue was never even considered.
not for marriage. not for anything.
just the illegitimate daughter, useful for nothing.
and mei knew, she claims.
mei knew lingyue loved sylus, and she took him anyway.
flaunted her happiness. bore his children. became his empress.
mei took everything while lingyue watched from the shadows, the eternal bastard sister.
so when sylus was preparing his conquests, when mei was tired and stressed and vulnerable, lingyue saw her chance.
if mei couldn't handle being empress during wartime, if mei died when sylus needed someone strong...
the legitimate daughter had her turn.
it was time for the bastard to take what should have been hers from the beginning.
the court is stunned into silence.
this wasn't about devotion to a dead sister.
it was about jealousy, obsession, and a bastard's rage at being overlooked her entire life.
sylus looks like he's been struck.
he never knew.
never knew lingyue had been in love with him.
never knew she harbored such hatred for her own sister.
you understand something in that moment.
lingyue did not love sylus. she loved the idea of what he represented.
the legitimacy, power, being chosen over mei for once in her life.
she wanted to take mei's place not out of love, but out of spite.
and she had been willing to murder everyone in her path to do it.
then lingyue's eyes find yours across the throne room.
her voice turns vicious, hysterical.
and you.
you were just another obstacle. another woman who would get what lingyue was owed.
it’s so much worse that you are a princess, the sole surviving royal blood from your kingdom that sylus had conquered.
it's so much worse that you are of marriageable age.
so perfect, so noble, quickly winning over his sons, earning his respect in council.
she had to destroy you before you became what mei was.
beloved, secure, and untouchable.
she said that she should have just killed you outright. that she should have used stronger poison in that tea. that she should have slit your throat in your sleep instead of being patient, being careful.
and she should have killed mei’s precious sons too when she had the chance.
her eyes are wild, manic. she didn't expect this. didn't expect her downfall to come from children.
ten-year-old boys who were supposed to love her, accept her, see her as their new mother.
instead they moved behind the shadows, they investigated. they found proof. they destroyed everything.
for you.
if she'd killed sylus's sons when they were smaller, easier targets, there would be no heirs left to challenge her own children.
no one to question her story. no one clever enough to find the evidence. no one brave enough to do this for you.
her voice rises to a shriek.
you ungrateful little beasts! i raised you! i cared for you after your mother died! after i killed her! and this is how you repay me?
guards have to restrain her as she lunges toward the boys.
luke's face is pale but his voice is steady.
you killed our mother. you tried to kill our new mother. you planned to kill us. why would we ever love you?
kieran adds quietly.
you were never our aunt. you were just a murderer wearing her face.
lingyue screams.
a sound of pure rage and frustration and defeat.
she should have killed them, she continues to scream, should have killed all of you. should have burned the whole palace down rather than let sylus be happy with anyone but her.
the court continues to watch in horrified silence as she completely unravels.
this is a woman consumed by jealousy, entitlement, and obsessive rage.
a woman who murdered her own sister, framed an innocent empress, planned to murder children, poisoned an unborn baby, and would have destroyed anyone who stood between her and what she believed she was owed.
sylus' face is stone. but his hands shake where they rest on his sons' shoulders protectively.
you see the exact moment he understands the full truth of what almost happened.
his wife, his real wife, his empress, nearly executed for crimes she didn't commit.
his sons nearly murdered in their beds. his unborn child poisoned before it ever had a chance to live.
his empire nearly handed to a madwoman who saw people as nothing but obstacles or tools.
all because he believed lies.
because he trusted the wrong person.
because he failed to see what was right in front of him.
sylus does not execute her quickly and does not grant her the mercy of a swift death.
first, he has her paraded through the capital in chains.
every street, every market, every corner where she spread lies about you.
heralds announce her crimes. treason. murder. fraud. attempted murder of the empress. conspiracy to murder the imperial heirs. poisoning the unborn heir.
the people throw garbage. rotting vegetables. stones. worse things.
lingyue screams the whole way.
screams about how she deserved to be empress. how mei stole what was hers.
how you are nothing but a conquered whore.
how sylus' sons should have died with their mother.
by the time they drag her back to the palace, her voice is hoarse, her face bruised from thrown rocks, her fine robes filthy and torn.
then he strips her mother’s family of their titles. her aunts, uncles, and cousins who had helped in her schemes, who also wants her to be elevated, who also wants a fraction of power that she had wanted to gain.
he confiscates their lands.
exiles them to the furthest borders of the empire, where they will live in disgrace for the rest of their lives.
for lingyue herself, he orders a public execution.
but first, the full trial. three days of evidence, testimony, witnesses.
every detail laid bare.
on the third day, sentence is passed.
death by the same poison she used on mei and you.
not the slow accumulation mei suffered, lingyue doesn't deserve that much time.
but the final dose.
the killing dose.
the one that burns and destroys in hours instead of months.
she's given it in wine, before the full court.
death takes six hours.
fever first, climbing until she's delirious. then convulsions. difficulty breathing. her heart failing in stages.
the imperial physician monitors it all, documenting symptoms.
this is medicine too, understanding how the poison killed, so it can never be used again.
so physicians will recognize it if they ever see these symptoms again.
you attend the trial but leave before the execution begins.
you have seen enough of her.
luke and kieran stay, not to watch her die, but to witness justice for their mother.
they are old enough to understand. old enough to need this closure.
sylus stays with them.
when it's over, lingyue's body is buried without honors in an unmarked ground outside the city walls. not in the family tombs. not anywhere sacred.
just dirt and shame.
her name is struck from all records except the criminal annals, where her crimes are preserved as warning.
you feel nothing but a hollow sense of finality.
mei can finally rest.
and maybe, finally, so can you.
Zayne's Ver | Caleb's Ver (being rewritten/edited) | Xavier's Ver (Next) | Rafayel's Ver (Coming Soon)
˙⋆✮ a/n: first of all, thank you so much for all the support for part one. i am so nervous about this. i think i mentioned in one of my fics that i am a huge game of thrones fan and i also enjoy historical dramas (there's a lot of got references i have added and lingyue and mei are also partially inspired by shin and lihua from the apothecary diaries). i love the schemes, court politics, and drama a lot that i may have went all out and added too much for this. i hope it is not too dark.
if i missed a tag for the cw, please please let me know!
Please let me know what you think and yes, there's going to be part three.
thank you once again for all your support and i hope you enjoyed reading. T_T
pairing: XAVIER, SYLUS, CALEB, ZAYNE, & RAFAYEL — oh, you just missed their call, it can't be that bad... right?
content warning: masturbation, sort of phone sex (but not really), dirty talking — +𝟏𝟖 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 - 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈
RAFAYEL ── .✦
“so, you do hate me” his breath hitches right in his trembling throat. his back arched over the bathtub as his hand strangled the base of his twitching cock. “cutie” he pants right over the mic. “i need you” his purplish eyes roll in the back of his head the moment his slander digits trace the languid path of his eminent curvature. “shit! answer me, pleasepleaseplease” a loud merciless whine vibrates in his wobbly throat. “augh! god baby” his dick trembles in between his fingers, tip profusely leaking. his arousal getting lost in the depth of his mid-afternoon bath.
“i can’t stop thinking about you” his hand bobs faster over his length. “about your voice” desperately searching for the sweetest sense of release, he bucks his hips into his hand. splashing water everywhere as he runs after what he craves. “the way you moan — fuckfuck — the way you beg” biting into his plump lips hard enough to draw blood, he strangles the outline of his phone for dear life. “the way you fucking beg, baby do you even know what you do to me?” his knuckles discolored under the grave pressure he was carving into his hand. “say it f’me — c’mon, the way you say my name. good girl jus’ like that” his imagination almost pushes his towards the edge. “holy shit! i’m —“
you’ve reached the end of the message.
rafayel: call me back if i got you all hot n bothered ;)
rafayel: no, actually. jus’ call me back - mwha
ZAYNE ── .✦
“sweetheart” in a shuddering breath, a timid moan coasts right past his trembling lips. “what have you done to me?” almost debating the ethics of his own actions, he doubtfully slips one of his big hands inside his boxers. “you plague my every thought” circling his length, he glides his hand agonizingly slow, from the base to his already swollen head. throwing his head back against the heavy headboard, he subtly groan into the mic. letting the pad of his thumb draw light little circles all over his already leaking tip. “f-fuck — i do apologize for this”
‘ptiu’ his damp palm glimmered as his saliva danced all over his flesh. “this is very out of character, but — jus’ like that, oh keep going baby” his wrist flexed, allowing his hand to roll undisturbed around his prominent girth. slamming his eyes shut, he imagined your pretty face looking up into his eyes. desperately searching for his praises. he envisioned your soft hand instead of his cold, calloused one. at the mere thought of you, your name slipped past his lips, like the most sinful of mantras. “i want you” he confesses in a racking huffs. “i wish you’d picked up — my sweet girl, i so desperately wanted to —“
you’ve reached the end of message.
zayne: forgive me
zayne: it seems that i’m rather needy today
zayne: you’re all i’m thinking about.
SYLUS ── .✦
“ah, what a shame” he huskily chuckles. “i was hoping you’d picked up” his hand moved softly over his cock. tracing every vein sultry. hugging his length mid stroke, just to tease himself. grazing the soft outline of his swollen tip with pad of his fingers - just like you would. “i miss you kitten” he almost purrs into the mic. “i really fucking do” his shaft trembled softly in his large hand. his abs gravely flexing under the agonizing rhythm he chose to peruse. “i wish you were here baby” suddenly, his head collides with the heavy headboard of the bed. his adam’s apple sensually bobbing up and down as he tries to gulp down, a stubborn little glob of saliva. “begging me to touch you” he growls. his pace quickening, just enough for his body to desire more. “callin’ and moaning out f’me”
his arousal slipped onto his long fingers. “you always follow the path of my hands with your, shaky little ones” he laughs. harshly biting a desperate moan back. “why’s that, hm?” he teases, both himself and you. “you wanna guide me where you most desire me, isn’t that right? yeah, fuck that’s it” he hums into the mic. stroking his dick sloppily as his greedy hand followed the heavy outline of his noteworthy girth. “you’re so desperate f’me — shit, oh, fuck” his eyes closed shut. his abs dangerously trembling at every dense breath he shudders. “whining my name, oooh, like you want me to become a mad man” a loud growl slide past his parted lips. heart thumping like a trapped beast inside his chest. “come to me” he begs. “allow me to please you for —“
you’ve reached the end of the message.
sylus: i’m picking you up
sylus: i’ll be the one coming to you
CALEB ── .✦
“worth a shot” he snarls. his fingers shamelessly tangled around a used pair of your panties as he bobs his hand up and down his shaft. “i knew you wouldn’t answer pips, it’s okay though” looking down at the lacy material chocking his cock, he chuckles huskily - his mind poisoned and lost in his own lust. “let gege ramble for a bit, yeah?” guiding your panties over his length, he cups his tip deep within the soft texture of your undies. “please” he cockily mused. “tell me you’re nodding f’me — oh, shit you are, aren’t you?” tilting his head to the side, he closes his eyes as he rests his chin onto his bare shoulder. “mhm, i’m getting off track here” again, he laughs. his hand now circling his girth as he follows the arch of his dick. “you’re so naughty, always teasing and distracting me like this —shiiiit”
“i was — mh — jus’ think about you” his hips thrust back up into his hand. “all sweaty and bent over” his eyes roll in the back of his head. his teeth sinking savagely into his bottom lip. “how’s yoga baby? you havin’ fun?” of course he knows where you are. what is this amateur hour? “are you making those delicious, fucking edible little sounds?” he smirks, getting lost into his memory. “oh, you sound so good” his cock twitches at the thought. his swollen tip leaking right under the lacy underwear, your boyfriend is now abusing. “especially when you’re so, oh so, close to cummin’” his pace quickened as his eyes locked on a little wet patch newly forming over your undies. “fuck! i jus’ wanna eat you —“
you’ve reached the end of the message.
caleb: call me when you’re done
caleb: i would love to ‘talk you though’ your way home :p
XAVIER ── .✦
“you’re everywhere” he whispers. “i can’t escape you” his hand twirling softly against his leaky tip. his eyes wandering wildly around the room, imagining the ghost of your presence. “you’re over there” he points at the window with his chin, mindlessly stroking his hard cock. “against the window” he tilts his head back. analyzing the glass with his bare eyes, searching for you - for everything you could’ve left behind. “your perfect breasts attached to the glass as i fucked you from behind” a raw, primal groan claws its way out of his mouth. his eyes finally locking over a tiny spot. right there, in the left corner. the imprint of your hips still stands, undefeated by the all the time passing. “there you are angel”
his arousal leaked onto his digits. covering himself with everything he wanted you to have. “you’re everywhere” he repeats. the thought of your presence in his life replaying in his mind like the filthiest of pornos. “in every corner of every room” strangling his tip in with his slender fingers, he feel his cock harshly pulse, caged in between his hold. “in my bed” his phone scatters away from his hand. allowing him to tangle his digits over the bedsheets. “on my pillow” he moans your name in a desperate whine. “everywhere. but here right fucking now” thrusting his hips upwards, he meets his hand halfway. “i need you so bad baby — please, i jus’ wanna make you —“
you’ve reached the end of the message.
xavier: come home
xavier: btw we’re never cleaning the windows again
a/n: wrote this at like 3am — not proofread, like at ALL
sylus x courtesan! reader where he constantly pays to see reader even though shes the top courtesan. at first, he never touches her and instead opts to have drinks with her and talk about life.
to the rest of the n109 zone, he is the big boss of onychinus, billion dollar bounty, scary man whose bad side they didn’t wanna get on. a monster to be feared.
to you? he’s sy. who complains about how luke and kieran tried to prank him by putting a whoopie cushion on his living room chair, whose mechanical crow snuggles up under your arm as you poured sylus another glass of whiskey.
to you, he’s so gentle. nothing like what others speak about. — he tells you about his vinyl collection, his favourite bike, what he ate for lunch, he tells you about the things he has kept buried.
to him? you’re comfortable. he doesn’t need to put on a persona or walk on eggshells so as to not leak information and tip people off. hes so used to doing it that being him now feels foreign.
to him, you’re so intoxicating. of course he has eyes and knows you’re a sight to behold and understandbly knows why you cost a million a night. he, of course, doesn’t mind. company like yours is priceless.
and somehow in turn, you find yourself craving his company, and when hes gone for weeks doing whatever daredevil shit he wills, he leaves mephisto to watch over you and made sure every customer who requested you had to cancel last minute.
“you sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you, sy?” you tip the bottle of whiskey, amber pools into the glass he’s holding.
“what? i don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“keep it up and the house will go bankrupt,” you offered a small smile. “if you didn’t want another man to lay their hands on me, you could always just buy me out.”
imagine being at home, cuddled up on caleb’s couch in skyhaven waiting for him to finally message you after being gone for days without any communication. which, while unlike him, is not the most unexpected thing due to his line of work. you can’t help but worry but caleb promised he’ll always come back, you’re about to doze off when you hear the doorbell ring so you rush to the door to greet your colonel only to be met with the general of the farspace fleet, two men standing behind him. in his hands? caleb’s uniform folded neatly, and his dog tags.
urbains first time w the reader… where he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he loves her so much he just wants to be a good boy for her and he’s overstimulated and tearing from pleasure and he can’t stop giggling bc he’s finally getting laid and its with someone that he practically fell in love with at first sight and grew so close and has so much respect for….
warnings: sub!urbain, porn with plot (surprise!) no use of yn, she/her pronouns in 1 paragraph, handjob, p in v, edging, unprotected sex, creampie, urbain is yappatron, maybe ooc
an: i’m so disgustingly self indulgent. i got extremely lost in the sauce while writing this 😭 my first work in a while so i’m a bit rusty… only proofread for typos and grammar.
inspired by this. minors dni
arceus above, urbain was such an adorable giggler. you couldn’t put your hands on if he was giggling out of nervousness or pleasure — probably because your hands were busy elsewhere.
your right hand held a firm grip on the base of his cock while your left pumped up and down on his aching length. playing with the beads of precum that oozed out whenever you tugged a little too hard on his foreskin. how long has it been now? who really knows.
“feels good doesn’t it?” a voice he has gone from being used to hearing to now desperately craving, sultry and whispers of the dirtiest compliments and the sweetest praises.
“mmmpm ” he choked out between giggles, tears running down his cheeks. “fuck…just - ahh”
urbain’s lean chest heaved with every stroke, his hair now a tousled mess damp with sweat, he felt his own orgasm slowly building up as more and more soft ahh escapes his lips.
“hey, its alright, use your words. chere.” you guided, picking up speed, your right hand now inching down towards his balls.
“yes, fuck it feels so good,” urbain barely whimpers out. he was probably about to continue blabbering on about how much he loves you and how grateful he is that you’re sat on his bed taking his virginity for the nth time in 10 minutes.
you leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on his sensitive head, you tug on his foreskin a little to expose his red, angry tip before swirling your tongue on it, teasing his most sensitive spot. you felt the familiar tense of the stomach and his balls pulsating.
you remove your hands from his almost milked cock, turning to urbain whose whining was cut short by the sight of you removing your top and skirt. urbain kinda zones out, taking in the beauty that was your form.
“oh. oh wow okay this is really happening.” urbain word vomits. “you’re so pretty- no not pretty, wait thats not that i meant, you’re always pretty its just you’re naked and i’m naked and we’re in my bed and you’re here”
you let out a shy giggle before climbing over urbain, now completely caging him underneath, you grab his hands, noting that they were lightly calloused from how hard he gripped pokeballs and plant a soft kiss on them guiding it towards your black lace panties.
“urbain. relax,” you teased, now guiding his hands to rub circles around your clothed opening. he hooks his fingers around your panties and hesitates. “look how wet you’ve made me. want a closer touch?”.
he nods eagerly, a kiss on his forehead was all the permission he needed to take off your panties. he slides one finger into your walls and almost immediately, you let out the prettiest sound urbain has ever heard.
you start exploring his mouth with yours, each tongue doing the tango in a effort to exert dominance over the other, his lips now stained a red tint too, he would seize the opportunity for dominance whenever he hit a spot and you would moan into his mouth.
he was clumsy, not knowing what speed to go at or how far he can push his fingers in but when you whimper and pull away to bury your head in the crook of his neck, he takes it as a sign that he has found a solid pace to keep at. he was pretty good at fingering for a virgin but knowing you both craved more, you had to stop him.
“urbain, stop.” you sat up, now resting on his lap. both your hands cupped his face so tenderly he felt like he belonged in the lumiose museum, his hand moves to cup yours as he leans into the embrace.
what started out as urbain finally clearing up his schedule enough to be able to catch up with you over coffee and croissants turned into an accidental confession when he wanted to show you a funny meme he found on pinsirgram and a text notification from naveen reading “are you gonna fucking tell her today? or…” drops down.
but that was hours ago and is far as you were both concerned, irrelevant right now. you stare at urbain, he was so fucking pretty, glassy blue eyes that were filled with love now drowned in lust, lips quivering with how nervous yet good he felt. now all restrained because of a simple four letter word. you’re at a loss for words.
“what- are you okay?, did i go too fast? i’m sorry oh my arceus” he wants to ramble again… but you tell him to shut up.
“listen. you’re like, my best friend. you’re not someone i want to just use. you’re the guy whose day i want to hear about everyday, you’re the guy whose cooking i eat even though he kinda sucks at cooking and wakes me up at 4am to try his spaghetti baguette,” you admit, now you’re the one throwing up words “i want this, i really genuinely do, but i need to know that you want this, not from lust, but from your heart”
silence follows, you could hear a pin drop. but the only thing that drops was your hand from his face
“is it greedy if i ask that i’m the only person you stare at like this?” he breaks the silence, his hand brings yours back. “the only one who you let touch you?”.
“you have always been the only one chere, not another person has ever crossed my mind.” you started the kiss on his lips then slowly made your way down his jaw and neck, then his glistening chest, planting cute kisses and leaving lipstick marks all over his body before stopping at his cock. “so, i need you to tell me you want more and this is what you really want”
“i want you inside of me- i mean i want to be inside of you… please?” he panicked, the two giggles harmonized into the perfect melody.
you spit in your hand before grabbing his cock, pumping it a few more times which immediately turns urbain back into a puddle squirming under your grasp, you bring his aching length to your pussy.
“ready?” you ask, he nods. “good boy.”
you put just the tip in, letting urbain get used to the sensation, only when he taps your thighs do you sink down further.
“does it hurt?” you question, he nods. “okay, we can stay like this for a bit then.”
you start peppering kisses all over his face again, lipstick now completely faded. you choose urbains neck as your mouth’s next resting spot, licking and sucking until a mark starts to form, then another on his collarbone and another on his chest but your worship session was interrupted by urbain slowly moving his hips underneath you, his cock that was buried inside begging for friction as he slowly guides you up and down his shaft.
“fuck. arceus” he barely shakes out, “you’re so tight, and its so warm.”
now that urbain had gotten used to the sensation and stopped blabbering, you waste no time in taking back dominance. grabbing urbain’s arms and pinning them above his head, you started riding urbain and resuming your body worship.
a kiss here, a kiss there. a few hickies where urbain would have to figure out how to hide from vinnie and a few where only he can see when he strips his clothes in the shower. every kiss and mark is a promise, a sign of the sincerest devotion and loyalty. urbain has since long been reduced to whimper and whines, telling you how good you feel and how lucky he is and you made sure he knew you felt the same way.
“hey- i’m close…” his embarrassed words cut through all the cacophony of noises, “can i… maybe cum inside please? i’d do anything please”
his begging thugs on your heartstrings but you’re determined to make his first time last just a little bit longer. maybe a lot longer.
and if he really wanted you inside of him? arrangements could be made.
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