Users on X are mobilizing to combat the misinformation being spread in the Chinese media surrounding LADS and Valko.
I am posting continuous information on my X account. Link here.
You can find a full explanation of the situation here.
Using hashtags: #VALKOWASFRAMED #VALKOISINNOCENT #BRINGBACKVALKO #BRINGVALKOBACK #SAVEVALKO
Here is a post with every outlet publishing criticism of Valko and Love and Deepspace.
In China, "under the PRC Civil Code, companies have a legally protected reputation. If a news outlet, blogger, influencer, or another company publishes false statements that damage a company's reputation, the company can file a civil lawsuit." We have to trust in the fact that Infold's legal department is mobilizing.
To my understanding, DO NOT MOVE TO CN APPS. Their media (RedNote, Weibo, etc) is highly controlled. We have the best chance of success on our own apps (X, Instagram, Threads, Facebook, etc.) We are already trending on X.
Our goal is to flip the narrative. Show why they are incorrect. Prove that they're spreading misinformation about Valko and LADS. We bring the receipts. What they printed, next to what's verifiably true. Keep it straight-forward, to the point, and undeniably factual.
This cannot be rushedâit could backfire immensely. We cannot go against their government because it could negatively affect the CN players. The problem needs to be highlighted as âa danger to the positive view of Chinaâ from foreign players.
From a user on X: Bringing the importance of Chinese culture and tradition abroad, is the key part of all of this. It is our only leverage. We need to mention our only wish is for the company to keep being able to spread Chinese culture. We need to show them how we engaged with Chinese culture, and the charity we did in the name of the character we wish to have back, so that the company can continue.
This is vital, but it is delicate. Don't hesitate to message me here or on X if you need guidance. I will still be updating you as I get more information.
More information here.
Reblog, share, anything you can do to get this out. We need as many people involved as possible.
Heâs âjust stretchingâ when he reaches over and pulls you into his lap while youâre trying to fold laundry. Heâs âjust making sure youâre warmâ when he wraps his big arms around you and tucks you against his chest. Heâs âjust checkingâ when he leans down to nuzzle the top of your head for the fifth time in ten minutes.
Youâre not even mad. How could you be?
Especially when his tail is wagging so hard behind him itâs practically creating a breeze, and his ears keep twitching happily every time you relax into him.
âYouâre clingy today,â you tease, tilting your head back to look up at him.
âAm not,â he mumbles, but the way he immediately tightens his hold around your waist says otherwise. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like he needs it to survive. âJust like having you close. Thatâs all.â
You giggle and reach up to scratch behind one of his ears. The second you do, a low, happy rumble vibrates in his chest and his tail starts thumping even faster against the couch.
âUh huh. Sure, big guy.â
He pretends to huff but ends up pressing a bunch of soft kisses along your shoulder instead, tail still going crazy. Youâre both smiling like idiots.
Eventually he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes soft and warm.
ââŠCan we stay like this a little longer?â he asks, suddenly shy.
You melt instantly, cupping his face and pulling him down for a proper kiss.
âOf course, baby. As long as you want.â
Valkoâs tail does a full happy spin behind him as he tucks you closer again, perfectly content being your personal radiator.
And that's the part that's making me lose my fucking mind.
We lost an entire section of the MAIN STORY.
The livestream literally told us Valko's release was going to reveal more about the Aethercoreâone of the biggest mysteries in Love and Deepspace and something that's been central to the plot from the very beginning.
So now what?
You think they can just delete him and nothing changes?
Do people genuinely think you can rip out an entire story arc without consequences?
Everything that was supposed to be revealed through Valko now has to be rewritten, redistributed, or outright cut. The main story is going to have to be retconned. Future updates are going to have to be reworked. Characters may have to be rewritten just to fill the gap he leaves.
If you're celebrating this because you "won," I sincerely hope you understand what you've actually cheered for.
I'm not intending to make this a fear-monger moment and I know I am just a random shmuck, but I've spent the last 2 years of my life studying business and pride myself on recognizing a failing business when I see one.
LADS and Infold are about to collapse. HARD.
The government has made it clear they want this game gone, and with the drop in playtime, profits, fan support, and even their own devs threatening to leave, Infold has no leg to stand on. If they go to the end of this week (let alone July) without announcing the game's close, I'll be floored.
This is me saying if you have any way to archive this game (screen recordings, screenshots, manuscripts, etc) you may want to consider doing it now. I see no future for LADS beyond this point.
I want the second half of this message to be me reiterating that it is no one's fault but Infold's for this. They have made numerous bad business decisions that led to this moment and all of this outrage, and they are the ones responsible for all of this. Not the fans.
Is there the potential that we walk away from this fine? Yes absolutely. But right now, it doesn't look good at all. All we can do right now is hold on tight to what we have and prepare to let go.
the solution was to move forward with Valko and stop at six, not give into some brats throwing temper tantrums over pixels
fuck all of you whiny crybabies who threw a fit over this and ruined things for others. get a fucking life if you were throwing fits over pixels, you miserable cunts đ
Imagine being a grade school teacher ft. Sylus. part 2
Imagine Sylus had always known loving you would eventually ruin him. Not because you were cruel, not because the relationship was bad, but because you were good in all the way he never was. Soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold. Honest where he had spent his entire life surviving through half truths and violence.
and Imagine the longer he loved you, the more unbearable it became knowing he could never give you the kind of life you deserved. You wanted ordinary things. That was the tragedy of it. Not luxury, not power, not the dangerous glamour that followed men like him. You wanted mornings, wanted peace. You wanted to raise children somewhere quiet enough that they could sleep without armed guards outside the door.
Imagine Sylus remembered those conversation too vividly. You sprawled across his couch late at night while he worked, your head on his thigh while you talked sleepily about random things that crossed your mind. About little apartments with terrible wallpaper, about adopting stray cats, about children. You used to talk about children so gently. Not in a demanding way, you never asked him for promises. You simply loved the idea of loving someone that much.
"I think little kids are cute when they're annoying." You had murmured once, half asleep. Sylus looked down at you back then with something dangerously close to grief alreadt forming inside his chest. "Annoying?" He repeated quietly and you laugh softly as you said, "Like when they ask the same question fiftly times." "You'd lose patience." "I would not." "You absolutely would."
Imagine the way you sat up immediately to defend yourself while he watched you with the kind of expression men only wore when they were already doomed. Back then, he almost let himself imagine it too. You, a home, children running through hallways, domesticity. The kind of life that smelled like laundry detergent and dinner left warming on the stove.
Imagine then reality always returned, because Sylus's life was not built for permanence. It was built for survival. Blood followed him everywhere. Danger followed him anywhere. And eventually he realized that loving you selfishly enough to keep you would only destroy you slowly. So he let you go before the world could.
Imagine he still remember that final night with nauseating clarity. You were sitting across from him, silent for so long that the room itself felt heavy. Neither of you cried at first, that was what made it unbearable. The understanding between you had always been too deep for dramatic scenes.
"You don't have to decide this alone." You told him quietly and Sylus nearly broke right there. Because even then when he was actively breaking both your hearts, you were still trying to stand beside him. "You deserve more than this." He said eventually. "I didn't ask for more." "That's exactly why I have to." His voice had sounded calm but inside he was unraveling. And you stared at him for a long time after that before you finally whispered. "You already decided, didn't you."
Imagine the way he could not answer. Because he knew if he opened his mouth, he might've begged you to stay despite everything. And Sylus, he loved you too much to become that selfish. So he sat there in silence while tears slipped quietly down your face. Not angry tears, not hateful ones. Just heartbreak, raw and exhuasted. The kind that came from loving someone deeply enough to understand why they were hurting you.
Imagine you left before dawn and Sylus stood in that same room long after the door closed, staring at the space you used to occupy like maybe grief itself had taken shape there. Afterward, he continued existing the only way he knew how. Work, violence, control.
then Imagine, the twin happened. Sylus sometimes thought fate had a particularly cruel sense of humor. He found them during a raid gone wrong. Tiny things covered in dirt and fear. One of them clinging desperately to the other while trying to act brave, staring at him like wounded animals when he approached.
Imagine Sylus should have walked away after handing them over. Instead, he left that warehouse carrying both children in his arms, and he hated himself for keeping them at first. Not because of the boys, never because of them, but because every single thing about them reminded him of you. Of the future he destroyed with his own hands. Children, family, a home. The very thing he convinced himself he could never give anyone.
Imagine there were nights he genuinely thought about sending them away, finding a better guardians, safer people. Then one of the twins would crawl into his bed after a nightmare and clutch onto his shirt with tiny trembling hands. And he, Sylus was weak when it comes to being needed. Especially by children who looked at him like he hung the moon. So he kept them.
Imagine years passed strangely after that. The twins grew louder, messier, needier. They filled spaces inside his home that had remained empty for so long that Sylus forgot emptiness could even be replaced. And yet you remained everywhere too. In the quiet moments, passing thoughts, in every instance where he found himself wondering what you would say. The boys liked dinosaur, you would've found that adorable. One refused vegestables unless threatened dramatically, you would've laughed yourself sick watching it.
Imagine the twins would fall asleep against him on the couch and Sylus would sit there staring at them while an ache settled deep into his chest. Because it should have been you here. Not as a replacement, never that, but beside him. You should have been part of this life. And maybe that was the punishment for his decision. Not losing you completely but spending years imagining you in every corner of the life he chose without you.
Imagine he still keep tabs on you quietly. Security updates, general reports. Enough to know you were alive and safe, enough to know what you become. And Sylus remembered staring at that particular report for a long time. A teacher. It suited you so painfulyy well that he had to pour himself another drink afterwards. He thought of you surrounded by children. Patient, warm, smiling softly the way you used to smile at him during gentler days. And God... He missed you so much it physically exhausted him sometimes.
still Imagine, he never intended to see you again. Because that part of his life was supposed to remain untouched. One where it held the version of you he knew and when he still belonged beside you. The years he had spent with you had become something fragile inside him, and he feared that reaching for them again would only prove that they no longer existed. And because if he saw you again and discovered that those days had meant nothing, then even the memories would lose their warmth.
then Imagine the twins insisted he attend the parent teacher meeting personally. Usually he delegated those things. Executives, assistants, someone safer, someone normal. But the twins had spent an entire week bothering him relentlessly. "You never come." "Other parents do." "What if our teacher thinks you don't love us?" That one had made him freese. So eventually against his better judgement, Sylus went. And the moment he stepped into the classroom, the world stopped.
Imagine he saw you standing near your desk beneath warm fluorescent lighting, surrounded by colorful paper stars and children's drawings taped against the walls. And suddenly, Sylus couldn't hear anything except the violent pounding of his own heartbeat. Then you looked up and met his eyes. And for one horrible second, he felt every single year without you crash directly into his chest.
Imagine you looked the same. Older, yes. Softer around the edges, but still unmistakably you. Still beautiful in the devastatingly quiet way that ruined and save him. Sylus genuinely forgot how to speak. The twins were talking, something about getting lost in the hallway but he varely heard them. Because you were standing right there after years of only existing through distant reports and fading memories, alive, real, close enough to touch. The worst part? His body remembered you immediately. Not sexually, not superficially. It was something deeper. The instictive familiarity of home.
Imagine he remembered your voice before you even finished speaking, remembered how your smile looked when it was genuine versus polite, remembered exactly how your eyes softened when you looked at children. God, he was introble the second you smiled at him professionally and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. QIn." Mr. Qin, not Sylus. And the distance in it nearly split him open. Still, he forced himself to stay composed, professional, controlled. Because what else could he possibly be? Certainly not the man internally unravelling every time you laughed at something the twins said.
Imagine you adored the boys, it was so obvious that it hurt unexpectedly. You looked at the twin with so much fondness that Sylus had to glance away several times during the meeting. Because all he could think about was how naturally you fit into the scene. How easily you could have loved them and how easily they would have loved you back. And the small things, oh the small things. You remembered which twin struggled more in subjects, how you listened to their rediculous stories like they mattered. At one point, one of the twins interrupted your discussion entirely just to tell you about dinosaurs and how they would thrive in modern society. And you listened seriously, smiling, interested.
Imagine Sylus nearly lost composure right there because he could see it clearly. The life he denied both of you. The life he still wanted despite knowing better. Then came the moment that truly destroyed him. The meeting ended. And the twins ran ahead outside the classroom, loudly complaining about being hungry, and you walked beside him towards the doorway and for one fleeting moment it almost felt familiar again. Like the old days, like walking home together after long evenings. Then he heard himself asking, "How have you been?"
Imagine the way the question even surprised him. But the need to know had apparently lived inside him for years. And you looked startled, not uncomfortable, just caught off guard. Then you smiled softly. "I've been doing well." Sylus held his breath. "I'm happy." Happy. The word lodged somewhere beneath his ribs like a blade. Because he could tell that you mean it. There was no bitterness in your face, no lingering devastation, no sadness hidden behind politeness. You were genuinely happy.
Imagine the way Sylus suddenly realized he had spent years surviving your absence while you had actually learned how to live beyond it. And for one ugly, selfish moment, he almost wanted to ask how. How could you smile at him so gently when he still woke up some nights remembering the exact weight of your sleeping body against his chest? How could you stand there so peacefully when he had spend years carrying your ghost around everywhere? How could you move on from something that still lived inside him like an open wound?
"How about you?" Sylus froze. Because he didn't know how to answer that question honestly. Fine wasn't true. Happy was impossible. He had built an empire, raised two boys, survived things that should have destroyed him. Yet standing in front of you again made him feel emptier than he had in years. But before he could answer, the twins called loudly from down the hallway. "Dad!" "Hurry up!" "We're hungry!" The moment shattered instantly, reality returning all at once. And Sylus looked towards them briefly before turning back to you. And you were smiling at him so kindly that it physically hurt.
"Go on." You laughed softly, "They're waiting for you." Sylus opened his mouth, then close it. Because suddenly there were too many things trapped in his throat. I miss you. I never stopped loving you. I think leaving you ruined me. Do you ever think about me? Instead, he forced himself to say, "It was nice seeing you again." You smile softened even further. "Likewise, Mr. Qin." Mr. Qin. So polite, so distant. Like he had become someone formal in your life instead of someone who once knew every inch of your soul.
Imagine the twins grabbed his hands afterward, pulling him towards the hall while continuing their dramatic complaints about food and Sylus let them drag him away. But halfway down the hallway he looked back, just once. And there you were still standing by the classroom doorway watching them leave with that same gentle expression on your face. No anger, no regret. No sign that seeing him destroyed you the way seeing you destroyed him. And somehow, that hurt the most.
[âdark-night-hero] 2026°
(: base on the result of the poll, there shall be no part 3. So yeah, this is the last part. I shall leave everything to your imagination. If you see any typo, that's because of William and Albert James Moriarty. Naduduling na ko kakacheck ng typo sa totoo lang.
Sylus becoming aware he is a character in a game and now heâs aware of you as well. A modern day Romeo & Juliet story here âŠ. A tragic love story
A/N: Donât fight me
[Requested by: Anon]
continue âŁ
Self-Aware!Sylus who realizes heâs in a game when he can sense your energy on the other side of a phantom wall. He can hear you squealing when he calls you honey and you're radiating happiness when you send him random emojis.
Self-Aware!Sylus who finally sees you when he happens to be looking around during a photoshoot and sees your shocked face when he makes eye contact. He smirks and turns back to the in-game version of you. âWhy are you out there?â You dropped your phone and stared at it in shock. Did Sylus just âŠ.. talk to you? You muttered a low âHello?â but got no response. You brushed it off as you just being tired and on the game too long.
Self-Aware!Sylus who manages to create a keyboard in your chat so he can actually text you. You were so confused when you opened it and it allowed you to type without just pressing a prompt. You gave it a spin with a quick âHey Sylusâ something simple. Of course the message was read immediately and he replied with a âHello [your name]â you stared at the screen in shock not knowing if this was a new update or if you were just going crazy.
Self-Aware!Sylus who chuckles when he sees you pouting because you didnât get his card so when you close the app and lay down he gifts you the card himself. You opened the app and the first thing Sylus says to you is âI donât like seeing you sad, check your memories I left a gift for youâ. When you open your memories you see that you not only got his most recent card but all of his five star memories. âWhat's happening here?â âYouâre smile is so captivating I just had to see it againâ
Self-Aware!Sylus who opens the app randomly throughout the day so he can see you âI havenât seen you all day what are you doing?â causing you to snatch your phone off the table because he always seems to catch you when youâre at work or around a group of people. âSylus I'm at work I'll call you when I get offâ he crosses his arms and seems to be pouting? âI donât like how much you have to work I donât see you as oftenâ âWell not all of us are billionaires some of us work for said billionaires to make a livingâ âI wish I could take care of youâŠ.â âYou and me bothâ
Self-Aware!Sylus who teases you when he wins a game of kitty cards or who uses his evol to get every stuffed animal for you when you get frustrated. âYou sure do wear your heart on your sleeves sweetieâ
Self-Aware!Sylus who stares directly at you when youâre doing a photoshoot with your in-game MC âSylus focus on her so I can get the pictureâ âI want to focus on you thoughâ âShe is meâ ââŠ..sheâs notâ
Self-Aware!Sylus who tells you not to fall in love because heâs not real, but he falls head over heels in love with you anyway. From the late night conversations of you explaining your world to him and just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He canât help it one night when youâre up late on the phone as always he just has to ask âDo you love me?â youâre shocked by his question, but swiftly answer with a shy âYea I doâ
Sylus: I thought we agreed not to fall in love
Y/N: I was already in love you just noticed late
Sylus: I believe I fell harder
You giggled as something somber settled in your chest.
Y/N: Weâll never truly be together you know?
Sylus: I know and yet I continue to long for you âŠ. I wish I could kiss you
Y/N: I wish you could tooâŠ..
summary: in which you tell the lads boys that you havenât shaved.
ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus & caleb
notes: MDNI / NSFW (obvi), theyâre all eaters!!!!!! xavier is silly, zayne has an attitude, rafayel is dramatic, sylus #takesnobullshit, and caleb is strangeâŠmentions of sex/sexual acts, fem terms used (!!!), thatâs it (i think)
p.s. this is a silly spur of the moment post so if itâs awful ummmm kill me maybe!!!
a/n: i am not the type to care like At All about body hair in any capacity so i hope this was somewhat entertaining LOL. body hair no body hair anything WTV itâs all natural and all real do whatever you want ok love you byeâŠty for reading (- -)(_ _)
have a little drabble, as a treat, while i celebrate that i finished my last exam for the year
content: injured mc/reader, blood loss, reader in denial, pre-relationship, loving Sylus, frequent use of "kitten", fits into the main storyline, not proofread, also posted to ao3
your safe haven is here
Silence followed as you limped through the N109 Zone. âShit,â you muttered under your breath, pausing on the empty street. You glanced left, right, hoping for the glimpse of headlights. But the silenceâthat empty, heavy lack of a bikeâs roarâtold you that youâd made a miscalculation. A big one.
Jenna had handed you a mission and a team first thing this morning. A team that you had refused, repeatedly. Youâd promisedâinsistedâthat the anomaly you were investigating was easily handled alone. A lie. Youâd known immediately it would be a bad decision at best, a trap at worst. Your time in the N109 Zone had earned you a reputation and enemies.
But you were the N109 expert, and Jenna had let you go alone, just as youâd planned, because if you went in with a team, Sylus would keep his distance. And though youâd never admit it to anyone, not the stars or the bygone gods of destroyed worlds or even yourself, you wanted to see him again.
For a progress report, you told yourself, on Ever. On Gaia. On how N109 was faring after youâd destroyed it last month.
It hadnât occurred to you that Sylus would have business of his own to attend to. It hadnât occurred to you that he could have left the N109 Zone in such a state, so soon after catastrophe. Youâd been picturing power grabs and vicious infighting. Youâd been picturing streets on fire, buildings razed, bodies left to rot. Youâd been picturing Sylus jumping into the fray, covered in blood and smiling like it turned him on.
Not that you knew what that looked like. Not that you wanted to know.
But heâd be here. You were certain. And so youâd marched into certain death utterly alone, sure heâd be there to save you.
He wasnât.
Youâd run. Taken a beating more brutal than anything youâd ever experienced and remembered, and then run for your life at the first chance when you finally lost hope and the thought Heâs not coming for me hit you like a bell striking midnight.
The Wandererâs roar had followed you through the streets until it faded to the ringing in your ears and then, eventually, to this heavy, cloying silence that seemed to mock you, to cling to your skin like salt.
He wasnât coming. Because he wasnât here.
You were certain of it. There may have been a time where heâd have let you fight alone, but there had never been a time that heâd leave you to find your way to him. And after last monthâŠ
His tenderness as you parted, your world cracked in two but somehow fuller now that you knew, had surfaced again and again in your dreams. The softness of his eyes, his touch. His reluctance to leave you alone.
After that, you knew he would never have abandoned you to die.
So he couldnât have been in N109.
And if he was, you were going to kill him, as long as you didnât first die yourself.
~â~
The base was cold, unbearably cold. Or maybe that was just you, a hand pressed to your side in a pitiful attempt to staunch the blood. It was painful, you were dimly aware of that, but either youâd gotten so used to the pain that you no longer felt it, or youâd lost so much blood that you were losing consciousness and feeling.
With your free hand dragging along the wall, you searched the base. It was cursory, nothing youâd win awards for in the associationâs re-training, but it would do for your purpose. As you wound your way through the base, aiming for the room Sylus had set up for you, you found no sign of him, or Mephisto, or the twins. The base was well and truly empty. Sylus wasnât in the N109 Zone.
Well, at least that meant you didnât have to kill him.
Dark fuzz swamped the sides of your vision. You swayed as you walked and stood still, pressing yourself against the wall. You glanced down at the wound in your side. Blood was seeping through your fingers, darker than it was supposed to be. âShit,â you said again, because it was apparently the only word you could think of. Had the Wanderer been different? Could it have been poisonous?
While you steadied yourself, you made a list of your next steps. Clean the wound. Pack it, wrap it, use whatever medication you could find in Sylusâ medical cabinet. You knew he had severalâthere was one in your room, one in his, one in the public bathroom, one on the wall of the boxing ring. There was a smaller one, heâd told you, in the kitchen.
Once it was clean, once you were safe from infection and whatever was making your blood nearly black, then you could pass out. Preferably in the bed, not the bathroom.
You werenât certain youâd make it that far.
Step by step, you wandered through the base. You hesitated outside Sylusâ bedroom door. The room heâd set up for you was further in the base, one of the most protected rooms he had, heâd told you. But⊠The idea of walking any further made your knees quake. Would he be upset? Would he yell at you, if you got blood on his bathroom tile, his carpet, his sheets? It was hard to imagine, this concept of Sylus raising his voice. Heâd yelled at other people around you, but heâd always been so sweet to you. Soft, really.
You shook your head. What the hell were you on about? Maybe whatever the Wanderer had hit you with had already reached your brain.
But you still pushed open Sylusâ door and stumbled to his bathroom.
You werenât totally sure how you managed it, ripping open the cabinet, yanking your shirt off one-handed, cleaning out the wound. Your vision came and went, your gritted teeth and sheer determination the only thing bringing it back again. Slowly but surely, you slathered the woundâa deep gash you had to pick bits of Wanderer rock out ofâin creams and salves, packed it with gauze, and then bandaged it tightly. You knew you ought to wrap something around your entire torso to keep it in place, but you couldnât find anything long enough. So you tripped your way back to the main room.
It looked like Sylus had either left in a hurry, or he was messier in his own space. There was a pile of clothes left beside the bed. From it, you fished out a shirt and wrapped it around yourself. You crawled onto his bed, slid between his sheets, and promptly let the darkness take you the moment your head hit the silk pillow.
~â~
Sylus shrugged his suit jacket off and hung it in the entryway hall. The fabric was coated in blood, soaked in it. He sighed just looking at it. It was custom, ridiculously comfortableâthe only piece he owned heâd always avoided bloodying up. Now it looked like heâd have to get back to the tailor to get a new one. Blood came out of clothes, but it changed them. They never sat just right again on his shoulders, his hips, once theyâd been soaked in someoneâs lifeblood.
âTake the night off,â he said to Luke and Kieran, trailing in behind him, roughhousing as they did. They paused to look at him.
âYou sure, boss?â Luke asked.
âYou donât need us?â Kieran added.
Sylus cut them a quick glance. âI know where to find you if I do,â he said. âTake the night.â
âYes, bossman!â they repeated together. They disappeared quickly into the shadows with a speed that unnerved himâalways had, and always would.
Steps heavy, Sylus made his way to his bedroom. He paused in the hall, taking stock. His door was ajar, just slightly. The light was on, dim, so likely his bedside lamp. And the hallway smelled strongly of you.
Hope filled Sylusâ chest. You had come to him? And so soon after heâd last seen you⊠Something akin to giddiness danced in his heart. He could just picture the scene in his bedroom, you perched on the edge of his bed, perhaps rifling through his drawers as punishment for making you wait. Because of course you would pick the one time he had a pop-up emergency to choose to come to him.
He smoothed his hands over the fabric of his pants. Shit, he was covered in blood. Was it in his hair? On his face? Fuck, did his breath stink? Did he stink? Heâd showered this morning (yesterday morning, really, with how late it was), but that was before heâd gotten doused and broke a sweat in a fight.
It was too late to try and make himself presentable. And maybe you wouldnât care. Maybe youâd be so relieved to see him that the blood and sweat wouldnât matter. It hadnât mattered to you before.
Sylus pushed his door open.
There was a small lump in his bed, wrapped in his sheets. Sylusâ lips twitched into a smile. Youâd made yourself at home. Again, that giddy joy fluttered in his chest. You trusted him. Finally.
âIâm home, kitten,â Sylus saidâonly just now hearing the exhaustion in his voice, making every word heavy.
But you, curled up in his bed, didnât move.
Fighting a frown, Sylus approached his bed, sat on the edge of it. âKitten?â Again, nothing. He reached a hesitant hand toward you, gently shaking you. You didnât respond. Now Sylus did frown, leaning over you. Panic spiked his heart rate: you were pale, breaths shallow, your body limp and loose. Swallowing back his fear, Sylus pulled the sheets away, less gentle than he would have liked with his desperation.
His sheets were slick, a faint red glisten when he moved his stance to see the light shine on it. He adjusted you and hissed softly to himself at the sight of your bandaging: rushed, falling off your body, already stained a deep crimson.
How long had you been like this? How hadnât he known? His security systems, they were meant to pick up anything, and his cameras were set up specifically to ping him when you showed up on his propertyâ
A problem for later. Right now, he needed you get you patched upâproperly.
Sylus scooped you up, careful not to jostle you and wake you. Frowning at the heat in your skin, he carried you slowly to the bathroom, laying you on the cool tile floor. You sighed in your sleep, body relaxing.
Pausing, Sylus took stock of you. You were wearing one of his button-down shirts, and it would have made him giddy if it werenât for the wound marring the sight of you. Your pants were caked with your own blood, now firmly glued to your skin.
He knelt beside you and gently peeled what remained of your bandage off. You twitched suddenly, taking a sharp breath.
Sylus stroked your hair. âShhh,â he soothed. âItâs alright. Iâm here now. Iâll fix it.â
He hummed as he removed the gauze youâd used to try and stop the blood flow. He stared into the wound for a moment. It was deep, deeper than he had expected, but he wasn't put off by the gore of it. He scanned your injury, noting the creams you'd used, searching for signs of infection. Mercifully, there were none.
Sylus worked quickly, cleaning out the wound and packing it more effectively. His thoughts spun wildly. Had you been delirious from the blood loss? Was that why you hadn't been able to take care of your wound properly? Had you been seeking him out, desperate for help?
As if you could hear his racing mind, you mumbled, "Sylus..." You curled toward him, wincing as you disturbed your wound.
You whispered his name again, fingers curling around several of his fingers, placed near your hand. He adjusted, giving you a better grip, and rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand.
"It hurts, doesn't it," he murmured, not really asking your sleeping figure. "Let me help you."
He wet a cloth with warm water and squeezed until it was only damp. He wiped it across your skin, cleaning away the dried blood that stuck your pants to your skin. Gently, he tugged them off of you, leaving you in your undergarments and his shirt.
You looked softer, less pained, and something in his chest eased. "Come on. Let's get you back to bed, okay?"
Even more carefully than the first time, he lifted you again and carried you back to his room. He settled you on the clean side of the bed and stripped away the blood-soaked sheets, replacing them and moving you as necessary.
"I'll be right back," he said, covering you with the blankets.
Moving quickly, he stalked into his office, pulling up the video feed from his cameras. Why hadn't they alerted him? Why hadn't he known the instant you showed up on his doorstepâ?
He watched until movement caught his eye. Ah, so that was it. You hadn't approached from the front of the base, but the back, your body curved inward and your hair obscuring your face. The defining details the camera had been programmed to catch were completely out of view.
As for the motion sensors, a flashing red light in the corner of the screen suggested it had been tampered withâbroken. Sylus had been sure it had been in working order before he'd left... Perhaps someone had caught wind of his trip and hacked the system...
He straightened. It didn't matter, not right now. He'd fix it when you were up and walking again.
Sylus returned to his room. You hadn't moved from where he'd put you.
He slipped off his shoes and the blood soaked clothes, pulled on a soft cotton shirt, and slipped into the bed beside you. He tucked you against him carefully. You hummed, face buried in his shirt.
"Rest, sweetie," he murmured, a ghost of a kiss gracing your forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."
~â~
You woke slowly, body warm and cozy and reluctant to wake. You fought the sleep that dragged you back down, shifting with a groan. Pain bloomed on your right side, pulling a loud, nasty hiss from your mouth.
There was movement beside you. Only then did you realize you were being held against a very comfortable, very strong, very familiar chest.
Relief and embarrassment flooded you at the same time, the memory of making your way clumsily through his house and into his bed flashing behind your eyes.
"Sylus," you croaked.
His eyes cracked open. Fondness hummed through his body, then dissipated in a moment of pure relief. "Kitten," he murmured. "You're awake." He adjusted, hand moving to hover above the throbbing wound in your side. "How do you feel?"
"Hurts," you managed, squeezing your eyes shut again.
"Bad?"
You shook your head. "Just...there."
"Hold on." He shifted, leaning over you, and pulled back a moment later with pills in his hand. He handed those and a water bottle to you. "Take these, then go back to sleep."
You did as he ordered. As you let yourself be cradled by him again, you whispered, "I'm sorry."
"What for?" he murmured.
"Invading your bed."
Sylus chuckled. "I thought I made it perfectly clear, kitten. You're allowed wherever you'd like here." He tucked you more firmly against his body. "Especially when you're hurt."
You glanced up at him. Perhaps you were still delirious, because you said, "I needed you. And you weren't..."
"Here." He grimaced, looking guilty. "I'm sorry. There was an emergency that pulled me away, and...my security systems appear to have been broken." There was a dark edge in his voice that might have once scared you, but you knew now it wasn't directed at you. Would never be directed at you. "I'm sorry I wasn't here, kitten. But I am now, and I promise I won't leave you again."
You hummed, nuzzling into him. Your arms tightened around him. You felt his breath catch in his chest.
"Is that your acceptance of my apology?" he asked quietly.
You nodded.
"Alright," he said. He stroked your hair. "Just go back to sleep, kitten."
"You won't leave?"
Sylus shook his head. "I'll be here as long as you want me to be. Even if it's forever."
Warmth bubbled in your chest, and you let yourself be lulled back into a comfortable sleep, safe in his arms. Safe where you would always be, knowing his arms would never unwrap from around you.
â â â
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ĘËđৠSylus has one weakness: you. fluff/angst(?)
To everyone the first impression theyâd get of Sylus would usually be along the lines of intimidating, charming, assertive. He always seemed like he was playing 4d chess inside his mind, already moving the pawns two steps ahead of anyone else. Never entering a situation without a plan, and even if the plan failed - which it very rarely did - heâd whisk up a new plan out of thin air and execute it perfectly.
He was like that in his personal life as well, you were to find out. So incredibly attentive to you heâd learnt your habits before you even noticed youâd formed any.
Like whenever youâd pick up a croissant, heâd already be sliding a plate underneath your hands, knowing some flakes falling were inevitable, but you just couldnât help yourself - grabbing the delicious pastry in a hurry to get a taste.
Or a towel appearing on the rack each time you had sleepily dragged yourself in the shower, your brain in a state of forgetting even the simplest things.
He was always there in his quiet, sure ways.
And you never quite understood how he managed to keep so calm, always riling you up and then smiling widely at your cute tantrums. Yet he himself was never explosive with you.
Not when youâd managed to stain his brand new slacks with expensive red wine in your clumsiness. Not when youâd accidentally scraped one of his favourite records or dropped the cast iron pot on his toes.
Always so composed, so understanding. Youâd began to think he was the epitome of self regulation, that there was nothing that could set him off.
That was, until you once managed not to return from your mission in time. Sylus had lost connection to Mephisto as well, the fluctuating protofield blocking his transmitters.
One foot almost out the door, the only thing keeping him stationed was the thought of you giving him an earful if he ever came to rescue you like a damsel in distress simply because you were 10 minutes late.
So he resorted to keeping himself busy, retreating to his armory downstairs and giving a gun after another a polishing of their lifetime. And thatâs where you found him another 10 minutes later.
Youâd returned unscathed, Mephisto perched on your shoulder, surprised to be greeted with empty hallways as you marched through the front doors. The only sound your own footsteps echoing, and youâd softly called out âSy?â receiving no answer.
Mephisto had then taken flight and shown you the way, leading you to the stairs down to Sylusâ sanctuary.
He was standing angled to you, twisting a gun absetmindedly in his hand and going over itâs parts with a rag held in the other. He was staring at nothing, brows furrowed and jaw tense.
âSy?â You called to him softly, but again receiving no reaction. You walked up to him and looked at his face â a deep crease in between his brows, his eyes devoid of light, not really focused on anything. He didnât even seem to register your presence next to him, his hand cluthing the rag so hard his knuckles were white.
You reached out with both hands, cupping around his face.
âSylus.â
As if woken from trance, he was startled and his widened eyes gradually moved from the wall to you, turning his head in your hold. When your eyes met, he held your gaze for a second and his eyes glossed over, before he hastily threw the items aside and pulled you into a crushing hug, his entire body trembling.
You returned the hug instantly, pressing your head in the crook of his neck and felt how his shaky breaths kept slowing. You simply held each other like so, and you moved your fingers to softly play with the hairs at the back of his head, listening to the beating of his heart calm down.
Yes, Sylus was calculated, well prepared and reliable. He never seemed to let his emotions get the best of him. But in that moment you realised something that tugged harshly on your heartstrings.
Heâd had no choice but to learn how to control his emotions, for heâd had no one but himself to lean on. No one to ever tell him itâs okay, no one to guide him. So heâd swallowed it all up and pushed it to the furthest corners of his mind.
But what he felt for you was bigger than life itself, breaching itâs way through the highest of walls heâd built up in his head. All consuming like a wildfire through the forest, ruthless in itâs path.
âItâs okay. Iâm here, Iâm safe.â You whispered and squeezed him even harder, if possible. Moving to leave the softest of kisses on his tear ridden cheek, in your mind you promised to never leave him alone again.
â„ summary: She was moments from sealing her fate at the altar when a dragon crashed through the cathedral and stole her away. Imprisoned in his tower, she ragedâuntil she began to understand that perhaps her gilded cage had been the true prison all along. What began as captivity became sanctuary, and somewhere between his gentleness and burning red eyes, she fell for her dragon.
â„ genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni)
â„ total fic word count: 33k (I am not normal about sylus sorry <3)
â„ continuing the tags for future parts: mating. inexperienced/virgin!reader, loss of virginity, monsterfucking because hello, unrealistic first time, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom sylus, ok⊠just in overall bye, sub!reader, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, major major major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, oral fixation. huge breeding kink aaaaa sorry. theyâre both FREAKS. scent kink? knotting. sylus is worshipping his sweet princess ok! doggy style / prone bone (meow) and multiple other positions. lots of pet names (mostly sweetie. kitty/kitten. little kitten). lowkey pillow princess vibes. this is high key sweet and soft and then turns filthy (and then turns soft again). also there is ALWAYS aftercare in my fics even if I donât explicitly write it. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry
And at the end of that endless aisle, Lord Pak Sungki himself.
Tall and handsome in his formal attire, dark hair perfectly styled, that pleasant, charming smile fixed on his face as he watched you. Everything your parents had hoped for in a matchâa powerful nobleman from a wealthy province, politically connected, respected throughout the kingdom. On paper, he was perfect. Your father had practically glowed with pride when the proposal came. Your mother had wept with joy.
Waiting.
Your father appeared at your side, offering his arm. His eyes were bright with unshed tears of pride. He leaned close and pressed a kiss to your temple.
âYouâve made me so proud,â he whispered. âYouâre doing the right thing. For yourself. For all of us.â
The right thing.
Your hand curled around his arm, and you felt the tremble in your fingers even through the layers of silk and lace. He patted your hand absently, mistaking your fear for excitement, and then you were moving forward.
One step. Then another.
Cold feet, you told yourself desperately as faces blurred around you. Just cold feet. Every bride feels this way.
But the knot of dread in your chest said otherwise.
The faces around you smiledânoble houses from every corner of the kingdom, all dressed in their finest, all here to witness the crown princess bind herself to Lord Pak Sungki. You recognized some of themâdistant cousins, your motherâs ladies-in-waiting, advisors to your father. They looked so happy for you, nodding approvingly, their expressions soft with sentiment.
Another step. Closer to Sungki. Closer to your future.
You remembered the flowers. That moment weeks ago when youâd excitedly shown him your sketchesâforget-me-nots for true love, roses for devotion. Small and personal and yours. Heâd barely glanced at them before sliding them aside, explaining that the wedding planner had already selected lilies and orchids. Traditional. Proper. Heâd smiled that charming, empty smile and kissed your forehead like you were a child whoâd suggested something adorably naive.
Youâll thank me when you see how elegant everything looks, heâd said.
Youâd told yourself he was right. That you were being silly and sentimental.
But those werenât your flowers lining the aisle. Nothing about this wedding was yours.
Three more steps.
Your throat felt tight. The bodice of your gown seemed to constrict around your ribs despite being perfectly fitted. The cathedral suddenly felt suffocating, too hot despite the cool spring air drifting through the windows.
You thought about your study. Your sanctuary in the eastern wing where morning light streamed through tall windows, where your books waitedâpoetry and history and philosophy. Your escapes. Your companions. Your joy.
You wonât have time for that anymore, Sungki had said when youâd mentioned wanting to keep that space. Heâd actually laughed. Explained with that patient, condescending tone that youâd have proper duties nowâmanaging the household, hosting dignitaries, producing heirs. Besides, he needed that wing for his personal guards. Security concerns.
Weâll get you some nice poetry collections for your sitting room instead. Something pretty to display.
Like you were a doll to be arranged in his perfect house.
Youâd wanted to argue, to insist that those books werenât decoration, that you were perfectly capable of managing duties and keeping the things that made you you. But youâd swallowed it down. Smiled. Nodded.
Because he was right, wasnât he? You were being childish. Selfish.
So why does it feel like Iâm losing myself?
Two more steps.
Sungkiâs smile widened as you drew closer, and something about it made your skin crawl. His eyes tracked your every movementânot with love or even affection, but with something else. Something that made you think of hunters watching trapped prey.
Possessive. Satisfied. Triumphant.
Like heâd already won something.
Like you were already his.
Every decision about this wedding had been his. The flowers. The music. The guest list. Every opinion youâd voiced had been gently, charmingly dismissed. Trust me, heâd say. I know best.
And everyone had agreed with him. Your parents, the wedding planner, the entire court. Lord Pak Sungki was such a good match. So respectful. So proper. You were so lucky.
But every bride didnât wake up at night with a racing heart and a primal urge to run, did they?
Every bride didnât feel like she was watching her future through thick glass, happening to someone else, some other version of herself who was braver or stupider or simply more resigned to her fate.
One more step.
Your father guided you up to the altar, and you felt his hand slip away from yours. He was giving you away. Literally placing your hand in Sungkiâs, transferring you like property to be traded.
Sungkiâs fingers closed around yours.
Warm. Firm. Just slightly too tight, his thumb pressing against your pulse point as if measuring your heartbeat, counting the moments until you belonged to him completely.
Your breath caught. Panic clawed at your throat.
Youâd tried to talk to your mother once. Just once. Started to express your uncertainty, your doubts, the feeling that something was wrongâ
But her face had gone cold immediately. That look she got when you were being difficult.
Not sure about what, exactly? About securing your kingdomâs future? About fulfilling your duty as crown princess? About making the most advantageous match anyone could hope for?
Sheâd told you sheâd been frightened before marrying your father too, but sheâd done her duty. You would do the same.
The conversation ended there.
And now here you stood, hand trapped in Sungkiâs grip, about to speak vows that would bind you to him forever.
The officiant began to speak, his voice resonating through the vaulted space, echoing off stone and stained glass. Words about duty and honor and the sanctity of marriage. About two houses joining. About the future of the kingdom. About binding oaths and unbreakable vows.
Nothing about love. Nothing about choice.
Nothing about you.
You stared at Sungkiâs chest, unable to meet his eyes, unable to do anything but stand there as the world closed in around you like a fist. Your heart hammered against your ribs so hard it hurt, a desperate rhythm that screamed run run run even though there was nowhere to go.
The officiantâs words washed over you, meaningless sounds that sealed your fate with every syllable.
âAnd do you, Lord Pak Sungki, take this womanââ
The rest was drowned out by the roaring in your ears, blood rushing so loud you could barely hear anything else. You watched as if from very far away as Sungkiâs lips moved, forming words you couldnât hear over your own thundering pulse.
But you saw his expression. That gleam in his dark eyes. The way his grip on your hand tightened just a fraction more.
Possessive. Victorious. Final.
No, something inside you whispered desperately. No, please, not like thisâ
Then the officiant turned to you.
His mouth was moving. Everyone was looking at you. Waiting. The entire cathedral holding its breath for your answer, for the words that would end everything, that would close the door on any other future you might have had.
Say it, you thought, your throat tight with unshed tears. Just say the words and it will be over. You can stop fighting. Stop doubting. Stop hurting. Just surrender andâ
But your lips wouldnât move. Your voice had died somewhere deep in your chest, smothered by the weight of everything pressing down on you.
âAnd do youââ
Then the stained glass window exploded.
The sound was deafeningânot just glass shattering but the scream of stone cracking, ancient masonry giving way under impossible force. The explosion of noise hit you like a physical blow. Screams erupted from every corner of the cathedral, high and terrified and primal. Your fatherâs arms wrapped around you instantly, trying to shield you, but something massive and dark blotted out the sun streaming through the destroyed window.
A dragon.
Your mind couldnât process it at first. Dragons were legends. Stories. Things that hadnât existed for centuries, if theyâd ever existed at all.
But this was real.
Black scales that seemed to drink in light itself, so dark they looked like pieces of night given form. Crimson markings traced along its bodyâacross its chest, down its legs, along the membrane of its wingsâglowing like embers, like veins of fire running through living stone. The wings themselves almost spanned the entire width of the cathedral, massive and powerful, sending pews toppling like childrenâs toys as they beat the air with each movement.
And its eyesâ
Burning red eyes, bright as forge-fire, bright as blood, locked onto you with an intensity that stole what little breath you had left.
Not with hunger. Not with malice.
With purpose.
Chaos exploded around you. People were running, shoving, trampling each other in their blind panic to escape. Guards shouted orders that no one heard, drawing swords that looked pathetic and small compared to the creature descending into the cathedral like a living nightmare. Your father was yelling somethingâyour name maybe, or orders, or prayersâpulling you backward toward a side exit, but your legs wouldnât move.
You were frozen. Rooted to the ground. Staring up at this impossible thing that shouldnât exist, that couldnât exist, and yet was here, real and terrifying andâ
The dragonâs massive head swung toward you with frightening precision, as if it knew exactly where you were, as if you were the only thing in this cathedral that mattered. Those red eyes met yours, and something passed between you in that momentâsomething you couldnât name, couldnât understand, that felt like recognition even though that made no sense.
Then everything happened at once.
Guards rushed forward with spears and swords, their armor clanking, their screams brave and desperate and utterly futile. Your father tried to drag you toward safety, his grip bruising on your arm. Through the chaos, you caught a glimpse of Sungkiâyour almost-husband, the man who was supposed to protect youâshoving through the crowd in the opposite direction, using nobles as shields, protecting himself and only himself.
Not even looking back at you.
The dragon moved.
It was so fast for something so massive, defying physics and logic and everything you thought you knew about how the world worked. Its tail swept aside a line of advancing guards like they weighed nothing, sending them tumbling into pews. One wing stretched out, blocking the path of guests trying to flee through the main doors, corralling them away from its target.
Away from you.
Because it was coming straight for you, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
A scream built in your throat but stuck there, trapped behind shock and terror. The creature was enormousâdeath itself given form, a force of nature, unstoppable and terrifying and beautiful in the way that avalanches and lightning strikes are beautifulâand it was reaching for youâ
Your father shoved you behind him, drawing his ceremonial sword with shaking hands. âStay back!â he roared at the dragon, his voice cracking. âYouâll have to go through me first!â
The dragon paused.
For one impossible moment, it looked at your fatherâthis small, brave man with his useless swordâand something like regret flickered across its massive face.
Then it moved again, but carefully this time, deliberately. One claw extended past your father, moving slowly enough that he could see it coming, could dodge out of the way as those massive talonsâeach one longer than your forearm, curved and wickedly sharpâreached for you with impossible, heartbreaking gentleness.
âNo!â Your father swung his sword. The blade connected with the dragonâs scales and shattered like glass.
The dragon didnât even flinch. Those claws closed around youâaround your waist, your shoulders, cradling you like something precious and fragileâand lifted.
Your feet left the ground. Your fatherâs desperate fingers slipped from your arm. You heard him scream your name, heard your motherâs answering wail from somewhere in the crowd, heard guards shouting and weapons clattering and the world descending into absolute chaosâ
But it didnât matter because you were rising, the dragonâs wings beating once, twice, with such power that the remaining windows shattered outward and the candelabras toppled and everything that wasnât nailed down went flying.
And then you were through the broken window, out into the open air, the cathedral falling away beneath you with dizzying speed.
You were airborne.
âNo!â The word finally tore from your throat, raw and desperate. Your hands scrabbled uselessly at the claws holding you, but they might as well have been carved from mountain stone. âNo, no, noâput me down! Put me down!!â
The dragon climbed higher, powerful wings carrying you up and up and up until the cathedral looked like a childâs toy below. You caught a dizzying glimpse of the chaos youâd left behindâoverturned pews, your wedding guests scattering like ants, guards streaming out of the building, tiny figures pointing up at the sky. At you.
Your kingdom spread out below like a map. The castle where youâd spent your entire life. The city where youâd walked among your people. The forests where youâd ridden as a girl. All of it shrinking, becoming distant, being stolen away from you with every beat of the dragonâs wings.
âHelp!â You screamed it with everything you had, until your throat burned and your voice cracked. âSomebody help me!â
But there was no one. Just sky and clouds and wind whipping your veil away, sending it spiraling down like a white flag of surrender.
âPlease!â Tears streamed down your face, hot against your wind-chilled cheeks. Your whole body shookâwith terror, with shock, with the adrenaline that flooded your veins and made your heart feel like it might explode. âPlease, I donâtâI donât understandâwhy are you doing this?â
The dragonâs head turned, one massive eye focusing on you with disturbing intelligence. The crimson glow softened somehow, the harsh fire banking to something almost⊠gentle.
Then it spoke.
âYou are safe.â
The voice rumbled through its entire body, so deep you felt it in your bones, in your chest, vibrating through the claws that held you. It wasnât quite wordsâmore like meaning translated directly into your mind, bypassing language entirely.
Male. Definitely male. And⊠concerned?
âI will not harm you,â it continued, and this time you heard something underneath the words. Something that sounded almost like⊠an apology? âI know you are frightened. I am sorry. But you are safe now.â
Safe? SAFE?
âYou kidnapped me!â Your voice cracked on the words, high and broken and edged with hysteria. âYou destroyed my weddingâyouâmy parentsââ A sob cut you off. You couldnât breathe. Couldnât think. âHow is any of this safe?â
The dragonâs eye closed briefly, something like pain flickering across its massive features. When it spoke again, its voice was softer, gentler, almost⊠tender.
âThe wedding would have been your death.â
The words hit you like a slap. âWhat? Noâno, thatâsâSungki wouldnâtââ
âI will explain everything,â the dragon promised. âWhen we arrive. When you are calm enough to hear it. But pleaseââ and here its voice became almost pleading, âplease believe that I am not your enemy. I know what you have lost today. I know what I have taken from you. But I swear to youâon everything I amâthat I did this to save you.â
You wanted to scream at it that it was lying, that nothing about this made sense, that you didnât need saving. But the words wouldnât come. Because some traitorous part of youâthat same part that had been screaming at you to run during the ceremonyâwhispered that maybe, just maybe, this creature was telling the truth.
And that thought was somehow more terrifying than anything else.
âWhere are you taking me?â You tried to sound commanding, tried to channel every ounce of royal authority you possessed, but it came out as a broken, desperate whisper. âWhat do you want from me?â
âSomewhere you cannot be reached. Somewhere you will be protected.â The dragon adjusted its grip slightly, and you tensedâbut the movement was so careful, so deliberate, like it was terrified of hurting you. âI want nothing from you except your safety. I swear it.â
One massive wing shifted, curving slightly to block the worst of the wind from hitting you directly. The cold air had been making you shiver violentlyâwhether from temperature or shock, you couldnât tellâbut now the dragonâs own body heat radiated through its scales, warming you. Protecting you even from discomfort.
It was such a gentle gesture from something so fearsome that it broke something inside you.
A sob tore from your throat. Then another. And suddenly you were crying in earnestâgreat heaving sobs that shook your whole body. For your ruined wedding. For your terrified parents. For the life youâd just lost. For the fear that still gripped your heart. For the confusion that made your head spin.
For everything.
âBreathe,â the dragon murmured, its voice impossibly soft for something so large. âJust breathe. You are safe. I have you.â
But you couldnât breathe. Couldnât do anything but cry and shake and feel like your entire world had just shattered into a thousand pieces that youâd never be able to put back together.
Your vision started to blurânot just from tears but from something else. The adrenaline that had been keeping you conscious, keeping you fighting, began to drain away like water through your fingers. The crash came hard and fast, leaving behind a crushing wave of exhaustion so complete you couldnât fight it.
âI donâtââ Your voice sounded distant to your own ears, weak and fading. âI canâtââ
The dragon made a concerned sound, a low rumble that might have been soothing if you could focus on it. You felt one claw shift, adjusting its hold so you were cradled more securely against its chest, where its heart beat slow and steadyâso much calmer than your own racing pulse.
âRest,â it said gently. âI will keep you safe. I promise.â
Your eyes fluttered closed. You tried to fight it, tried to stay conscious, to stay alert, because surely falling asleep in the grip of a dragon was the worst possible thing you could doâ
But your body had other ideas.
The world tilted and swayed. The wind became a distant roar. Even your fear felt far away now, muffled by the grey fog creeping in at the edges of your consciousness.
The last thing you registered before darkness took you completely was warmth. The steady beat of the dragonâs heart. The gentle, protective curve of its claws around you.
And those burning red eyes, glancing down one more time to ensure you were secure, that soft glow of concern the last thing you saw before everything went black.
For one blissful, disoriented moment, you didnât remember. Your mind was blank, floating in that space between sleep and waking where nothing had happened yet, where the world was still safe and familiar.
Then awareness crashed back in with brutal clarity.
The wedding. The dragon. The kidnapping.
Your eyes snapped open with a gasp, and immediately you wished they hadnât.
You were still in the air. Still caught in those massive claws. The ground was rising up to meet youâor rather, you were falling toward it, the dragonâs wings spreading wide to slow your descent. Wind whipped around you, colder now, carrying the scent of pine and stone and something wild you couldnât name.
Terror jolted through you like lightning. You struggled instinctively, a choked sound escaping your throat.
âEasy.â The dragonâs voice rumbled through you immediately, and the claws around you tightened just slightlyânot restraining, but steadying. âEasy. I am landing. You are safe.â
Safe. That word again. As if being stolen away by a creature from nightmares could ever be considered safe.
But you couldnât fight. Couldnât do anything but squeeze your eyes shut and try not to scream as the world tilted and swayed. You felt the powerful downbeat of wings, once, twice, and thenâ
Impact.
The dragon landed with surprising grace for something so massive, the shock of contact with the ground barely jostling you in its grip. Those careful claws held you steady, absorbing the movement so you felt only the smallest jar.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
You could hear your own ragged breathing, feel your heart slamming against your ribs. The dragonâs chest rose and fell beneath you with deep, measured breathsâso much calmer than your own panicked gasps.
Then, slowly, carefully, the claws began to open.
You were lowered toward the ground with such deliberate gentleness that it almost broke you. Like you were something precious. Something that might shatter if handled too roughly.
Your feet touched stoneâcold even through your wedding slippers. The claws released you completely, withdrawing with careful precision, and suddenly you were standing on your own again.
Your legs nearly gave out.
You stumbled, and immediatelyâimmediatelyâone massive claw moved back toward you, not grabbing but hovering close, ready to catch you if you fell. You flinched away from it with a sharp cry, and the claw stopped instantly, retreating.
âForgive me.â The dragonâs voice was soft, pained. âI did not mean to frighten you further.â
You couldnât respond. Couldnât do anything but stand there shaking, your arms wrapped around yourself, trying desperately to understand where you were. What was happening. How any of this could be real.
You were in a courtyard of some kind. Ancient stone stretched around youâcracked and weathered with age, overgrown with moss and climbing vines. Crumbling walls rose on all sides, and ahead of you stood a tower. Tall and narrow, built from grey stone that had once been magnificent but now showed the wear of centuries. Windows dotted its length like dark, watchful eyes.
It looked abandoned. Forgotten.
A prison.
âWhereââ Your voice came out as barely a whisper, broken and hoarse from screaming. You swallowed hard and tried again. âWhere am I?â
The dragon shifted, and you spun toward it with a gasp. It was even more terrifying on the ground somehowâmassive beyond comprehension, all black scales and crimson markings and those burning red eyes that watched you with far too much intelligence.
But it held perfectly still. Didnât move toward you. Didnât crowd you.
Just⊠watched. Waited.
âSomewhere safe,â it said finally. âSomewhere hidden. Somewhere he cannot reach you.â
He. Sungki.
The name sent a confusing tangle of emotions through you. Relief that youâd escaped that wedding, that suffocating future. But alsoâanger. Grief. Terror at what youâd lost, what had been taken from you, even if you hadnât wanted it.
âMy parents,â you choked out. Tears burned your eyes again, threatening to spill over. âTheyâll think Iâm dead. Theyâll think youâthat you killed meââ
Something that looked horrifyingly like anguish crossed the dragonâs face. Its head lowered slightly, those red eyes dimming with what you would swear was guilt.
âThey will think you're kidnapped,â it said quietly. âAnd they will search. But they will not find you here. No one will.â It paused, and when it spoke again, its voice was gentler. âI am sorry for the pain this causes them. I am sorry for the pain it causes you. But your life is worth more than their peace of mind. Worth more than anything.â
The conviction in those words shook you. This creatureâthis dragonâspoke about your life like it was something sacred. Something worth destroying a kingdomâs peace to protect.
It made no sense.
âWhy?â The word burst from you, desperate and demanding. âWhy are you doing this? What do you want from me?â
âNothing.â The answer was immediate, firm. âI want nothing from you except your continued existence.â
You stared at him, trying to find the lie, the trick, the hidden meaning. But those red eyes met yours with devastating honesty.
âLord Pak Sungki,â the dragon continued, and something dark crept into its voiceâsomething cold and dangerous that made the air feel heavier, âhas killed before. Three wives, all of noble birth. All died within the first year of marriage. Falls from towers. Sudden illnesses. Tragic accidents.â The last two words dripped with bitter sarcasm. âYou would have been the fourth.â
The words hit you like physical blows. âNo. No, thatâsââ But your protest died in your throat.
Because you remembered now. Remembered rumors, whispered in corners when people thought you werenât listening. Talk of Sungkiâs previous marriages. His terrible luck. How tragic it was that such a good man kept losing wives to misfortune.
Youâd dismissed it. Told yourself it was just gossip, just coincidence, justâ
Just your instincts screaming at you that something was wrong.
Your knees gave out.
You hit the stone hard, your elaborate wedding gown pooling around you like a puddle of silk and pearls. A sob tore from your throatâand then another, and another. Everything youâd been holding back, all the fear and confusion and grief and rage, came pouring out in great heaving gasps that shook your entire body.
The dragon made a low, distressed sound.
âPlease,â he said, and the anguish in its voice was so genuine it cut through even your breakdown. âPlease do not cry. I cannot bear it.â
But you couldnât stop. Couldnât do anything but weep into your hands while this creature that had stolen you away watched with what looked horrifyingly like a breaking heart.
You felt movementâcareful, cautious. Looked up through blurred vision to see the dragon lowering itself to the ground, folding its massive body down until its head was level with yours. Still giving you space. Still not touching.
Those red eyes were so close now. You could see the concern in them. The pain. The desperate need to comfort you warring with the fear of frightening you more.
âI know you do not believe me,â it said softly. âI know I am a monster in your eyes. But I swear to youâon my life, on everything I amâthat I would never harm you. That keeping you safe is the only thing that matters to me.â
Something in its voice made your breath catch. Something that sounded like⊠devotion. Like your life mattered more to this creature than its own.
Why? Why would a dragon care if one human princess lived or died?
âYou will stay here,â it continued gently, gesturing with its massive head toward the tower. âIn the tower. Everything you need is thereâfood, water, clothing, books, comfort. You will be safe within its walls. Protected.â
Protected. Or imprisoned.
âAnd if I want to leave?â Your voice came out small, broken.
The dragonâs eyes dimmed with sorrow. âYou cannot. Not yet. Not untilââ It stopped, seemed to struggle with something. âNot until the threat has passed. Please understand. This is not a cage. This is a sanctuary.â
You looked at the tower. At the ancient stone and dark windows. At what would be your prison, no matter how kindly it was framed.
Then you looked back at the dragon, at this impossible creature that claimed to have saved you, that watched you with such careful concern it made your chest ache.
You didnât know what to believe anymore.
âCome,â the dragon said quietly, rising to its feet with fluid grace. âLet me show you. And thenââ It hesitated. âThen I will leave you in peace. I know you need time. I understand.â
It began walking toward the tower, those massive legs carrying it forward with surprising quiet. After a moment, you realized it expected you to follow.
You looked back the way youâd comeâat the sky that had carried you here, at the impossible distance between you and home.
Then, with shaking legs and a heart full of fear and confusion and the tiniest, most traitorous spark of curiosity, you stood.
The towerâs entrance loomed before youâa heavy wooden door, ancient but sturdy, set into stone that had weathered centuries. The dragon reached forward with one careful claw and pushed it open. The hinges creaked softly, a sound that seemed too small, too normal for this impossible situation.
Beyond the doorway, a spiral staircase wound upward into darkness.
The dragon paused at the threshold, its massive form blocking most of the fading daylight. It turned those red eyes on you, and for a moment you saw something in themâhesitation? Uncertainty? As if it wasnât sure how to proceed, how to make this easier for you when nothing about this could possibly be easy.
âThe stairs lead up,â he spoke quietly. âTo your⊠to the living quarters. Everything is prepared for you there.â
Your living quarters. As if this was a choice. As if youâd asked to be brought here.
But you said nothing. Just stared at those stairs disappearing into shadow, your heart racing with a different kind of fear now. What waited up there? What had this creature prepared?
The dragon seemed to sense your terror because it shifted, angling its body away slightly, making itself smaller somehow despite its size. âI will go first,â it offered. âSo you can see. So you know I speak the truth.â
Without waiting for your responseâwhat response could you possibly give?âit began to climb. The staircase was wide enough for its bulk, though barely. You heard the scrape of claws on stone, the whisper of scales against the walls, and then it disappeared around the curve of the stairs.
Leaving you alone in the doorway.
You could run. The thought struck you with sudden clarity. The dragon was ahead of you now, out of sight. You could turn around, flee across the courtyard, try to find a way out of this abandoned placeâ
But to where? You had no idea where you were. No idea how far youâd flown or in what direction. And even if you somehow made it beyond these walls, what then? The dragon would find you easily. Youâd seen how fast it moved.
No. You were trapped here, whether you went up those stairs willingly or had to be carried.
At least if you walked, you kept some shred of dignity.
Taking a shaking breath, you gathered your ruined wedding gown in trembling hands and stepped into the tower. The stone was cold beneath your slippers, and the stairwell felt oppressive, the walls too close, the air too still. Each step echoed softly as you climbed, following the path the dragon had taken.
Up and up and up. Your legs burned. Your lungs ached. The gown was heavy, cumbersome, designed for standing still and looking beautiful, not for climbing endless stairs in a forgotten tower. Sweat dampened your skin beneath all the layers of silk and pearls.
Finally, the stairs opened up into a large circular room.
You stopped on the top step, breath catching.
The space was⊠not what you expected.
Soft evening light poured through tall windowsâreal glass, clean and intact despite the towerâs abandoned exterior. The room was enormous, taking up the entire width of the tower at this level. And it was furnished. Not with dusty relics or moldering furniture, but with actual, livable pieces.
A bed stood against one curved wallâlarge and sturdy, piled with what looked like soft blankets and pillows. Real pillows, not moth-eaten remnants. Near one of the windows sat a small table with two chairs, simple but well-made. Bookshelves lined another section of wall, and your heart stuttered when you saw they werenât empty. Books filled them, spines of different colors and sizes.
Tapestries hung on the wallsâfaded but beautiful, depicting forests and mountains and skies full of stars. They softened the stone, made the space feel less like a prison cell and more like⊠like a room. A place someone might actually live.
The dragon waited on the far side of the space, pressed against the wall as if trying to take up as little room as possible. Those red eyes watched you carefully, gauging your reaction.
âThis is the main living area,â it said softly. âThere is more. A bathing room through that doorââ one claw gestured toward a doorway you hadnât noticed, ââwith running water. It still works. I made certain of it.â
You took a tentative step into the room, your eyes darting around, trying to process everything. This wasnât some dungeon. This was⊠prepared. Maintained. As if someone had known you were coming and had tried to make it comfortable.
âThe kitchen is one level down,â the dragon continued, its voice careful, almost gentle. âStocked with food. Bread, dried fruits, preserves, things that will keep. Fresh water from a spring that feeds into the tower. You will not go hungry.â
Your throat felt tight. You moved toward the bookshelves, drawn despite yourself. Your fingers trailed along the spinesâpoetry, history, philosophy. Stories and myths and scholarly texts. The kinds of books you loved. The kinds of books Sungki had dismissed as wastes of time.
âI was not certain what you would prefer,â the dragon said, and something in its voice made you turn to look at it. There was uncertainty there. Almost⊠nervousness? âSo I brought many kinds. If these do not please you, I can bring others.â
âYou⊠brought these?â Your voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. âFor me?â
The dragonâs eyes dimmed slightly, and it lowered its head. âI wanted you to have comfort. Things that might⊠help. During your time here.â
During your imprisonment, it meant. But it had tried to make that imprisonment bearable.
You didnât know what to feel about that. Gratitude felt wrongâthis creature had kidnapped you. But the gesture was undeniably⊠kind. Thoughtful in a way that made your chest ache with confusion.
You turned away, moving toward the windows. The view took your breath awayâmountains stretched into the distance, their peaks touched with the gold of sunset. Forest spread below, dark green and vast and utterly empty of any signs of civilization. No roads. No villages. Nothing but wilderness for as far as you could see.
Truly, no one would find you here.
âYou can see for miles,â the dragon said quietly. âNo one approaches without being seen. You are safe here. Protected.â
Protected. That word again. As if these walls and this isolation were for your benefit rather than your captivity.
You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling the weight of everythingâthe gown, the day, the fear, the impossible strangeness of standing in a tower room with a dragon who spoke of protection while keeping you prisoner.
âI donât understand,â you whispered, your eyes still fixed on the mountains. âWhy go to all this trouble? If you truly just wanted to save me from Sungki, you could have⊠warned my parents. Sent word somehow. You didnât have to take me. You didnât have toââ Your voice cracked. ââto do any of this.â
The dragon was silent for a long moment. When it finally spoke, its voice was heavy with something you couldnât quite name. âThey would not have believed me. No one would have. Lord Pak Sungki is respected, trusted. A dragonâs word against his?â A bitter sound, almost like a laugh. âThey would have called it madness. Locked you in your room until the wedding to keep you âsafeâ from the monster trying to steal you away.â
You knew, with sick certainty, that he was right. Your parents had dismissed your doubts. They never would have believed a dragonâs warning.
âThis was the only way,â he continued softly. âI am sorry it had to be this way. I am sorry for your fear, for your pain. But I am not sorry for saving your life.â
You turned to face it then, this massive creature who had upended your entire existence. âHow long?â you demanded. âHow long do you expect me to stay here?â
The dragonâs eyes met yours, and you saw genuine regret in them. âI do not know,â it admitted. âUntil Sungki gives up his search, perhaps. Until he finds another target. Untilââ It stopped, as if the words were difficult. âUntil you are no longer in danger.â
âSo indefinitely.â Your voice was flat, hollow. âYouâre keeping me here indefinitely.â
âI am keeping you alive,â the dragon said, and there was steel beneath the gentleness now. âThat is worth any price. Even your hatred of me.â
The conviction in those words sent a shiver through you. This creature truly believed what it was saying. Truly thought your life was worth all of thisâthe kidnapping, the imprisonment, your terror and pain.
Why? The question burned in your mind, but you were too exhausted, too overwhelmed to voice it.
As if sensing your breaking point, the dragon moved toward the stairs. âI will leave you now,â he said quietly. âYou need rest. Time to⊠adjust. The door will not lock from the outsideâyou can move freely within the tower. But pleaseââ and here its voice became almost pleading, âplease do not try to leave. The forest is dangerous, and you do not know the way. You could be hurt.â
It paused at the top of the stairs, looking back at you one last time. In the fading light, those red eyes almost looked⊠sad.
âI know you do not believe this now,â it said softly. âBut I promise youâeverything I have done, I have done to protect you. I hope, one day, you will understand that.â
Then it descended the stairs, and you were alone.
Alone in a tower room that was far too comfortable to be a prison and far too isolated to be anything else.
You stood there as darkness fell outside the windows, as the room grew dim and shadows stretched across the floor. Stood there until your legs finally gave out and you sank onto the bed, still in your ruined wedding gown, and let yourself cry for everything youâd lost.
For the life youâd never get back.
For the future youâd never have.
And, in some small, traitorous part of your heartâfor the wedding youâd been saved from, even if the salvation had come at such a terrible price.
You woke to sunlight streaming through the windows.
For the second time in as many days, there was that blissful moment of confusionâwhere you didnât remember, where your mind was blessedly blank. Then reality drifted back, slower this time, less like a crashing wave and more like the tide coming in.
The wedding. The dragon. The tower.
You were still wearing your wedding gown. The fabric was hopelessly wrinkled now, uncomfortable where youâd slept on it, pearls pressing into your skin. Your hair had come loose from its elaborate styling, pins scattered across the pillow. You felt rumpled and stiff, but not as devastated as youâd expected to feel.
Maybe you were still in shock. Or maybe you were simply too exhausted for hysteria.
Slowly, you sat up and looked around the room. It looked different in daylightâsofter, almost pleasant with morning sun painting everything warm and golden. The books on the shelves caught the light. The tapestries showed their faded beauty more clearly. Through the windows, you could see clear blue sky and the distant mountains touched with pink from the sunrise.
It was, objectively, quite beautiful.
That thought felt strange. Wrong, somehow. You were supposed to be terrified, supposed to be plotting escape. Instead, you just felt⊠tired. Confused. Uncertain about everything.
You stood and moved to the window, looking out at the view. Forest and mountains stretched endlessly in every direction, painted in morning light. No roads. No villages. No signs of any other people anywhere.
So even if you wanted to leave, where would you go?
The thought wasnât panicked, just⊠practical. Observational. You tucked it away to think about later, when your mind felt less foggy.
For now, you needed to do something normal. Something that would help you feel more like yourself.
The bathing room. The dragon had mentioned it yesterday. You should wash, get out of this dress, clear your head.
The door opened easily, revealing a space larger than youâd expected. A copper tub dominated one wall, and there was a small hearth built into the cornerâand to your surprise, a fire burned there, crackling softly. Someone had lit it recently. The dragon must have done it before you woke, which meant it had been in the tower this morning while you slept.
That should have frightened you. Instead, you just felt⊠strange. It had lit a fire so you could have warm water.
A large pot sat on a hook over the flames, and when you checked, it was full of water, already steaming slightly. Enough to fill the tub partway, at least. There was a bucket nearby for cold water from the basin to mix in.
The dragon had thought of everything.
You stared at the steaming pot for a long moment, trying to sort through your feelings about that. It was kind, wasnât it? Thoughtful. But also presumptuousâassuming youâd want to bathe, assuming youâd stay, assuming it had any right to prepare these things for you.
Then again, you did want to bathe. So maybe you should just⊠accept the kindness and think about the rest later.
Working carefully, you used the bucket to transfer the hot water to the tub, mixing it with cold until the temperature felt right. Steam rose from the surface, and the sight of it made you realize just how much you wanted thisâto be clean, to feel normal, to have this one small comfort.
Someone had left clothes folded on a bench near the tub. You picked up the dressâsimple linen in soft blue, well-made but nothing fancy. Practical. The kind of thing a merchantâs daughter might wear, not a princess.
There were slippers too. Stockings. Even a plain wool shawl.
All in approximately your size.
You set them down, pushing away thoughts of how the dragon might know your size, how long it might have been planning this. Those thoughts led nowhere useful.
Instead, you focused on the immediate problem: getting out of this wedding gown.
That proved more difficult than expected. The gown had dozens of tiny buttons down the back, most of which you couldnât reach. At court, youâd always had attendants to help with dressing and undressing. Youâd never realized how dependent you were on that help until now.
After several minutes of struggling and stretching and nearly dislocating your shoulder trying to reach the highest buttons, you gave up on doing this properly. Youâd just have to leave some fastened and pull the whole thing over your head.
It took more strugglingâand you definitely heard some stitches popâbut finally, finally, you managed to wrestle yourself free.
The gown lay in a heap on the floor, and you left it there, not wanting to look at it.
The bath was heaven. Pure, simple heaven. You sank into the warm water with a sigh, letting it soothe your sore muscles and wash away the grime and sweat from yesterday. There was plain soap on a small shelfânothing fancy, but it smelled clean, like herbs. You scrubbed your skin until it felt fresh again, worked the soap through your hair to wash away all the pins and powder and perfume from the wedding styling.
When you finally emerged and dried yourself with the towel that had been left on the bench, you felt substantially more human. The simple dress was comfortable, easy to move in. The slippers fit reasonably well. You left your hair loose to dry, too tired to braid it properly.
Looking at yourself in the small mirror on the wall, you barely recognized the person staring back. No elaborate gown. No jewelry. No carefully styled hair. Just⊠you. Plain and simple.
It should have felt diminishing. Instead, it felt almost like relief. You pushed that thought away too and left the bathing room.
The main living area felt different now that you were clean and dressed in fresh clothes. Less like a prison cell, more like⊠well. A room. Just a room in a tower where you happened to be staying.
Where you were being kept, you corrected yourself. This wasnât a visit. This was captivity, no matter how comfortable.
Your stomach growled, reminding you that youâd eaten nothing since yesterday morning. The dragon had mentioned a kitchen one level down.
You found the stairs and descended carefully. The stone was cool under your slippers, the stairwell dimly lit but not dark. After a full spiral, you reached the kitchen level.
It was smaller than the main room but surprisingly well-equipped. A hearth with a fire burning lowâthe dragon must have lit this one too. Shelves lined with provisions. You investigated them with growing curiosity: jars of preserves, dried fruits, wheels of cheese wrapped in cloth, several loaves of bread that smelled fresh. A barrel of water. Even bundles of dried herbs hanging from hooks in the ceiling.
Not just supplies. A fully functional kitchen.
You cut yourself some bread and cheese, eating slowly while you processed this. The dragon hadnât just thrown you in an empty tower with some basic food. It had prepared this place. Stocked it carefully. Made sure youâd have everything you needed.
Why?
That question kept circling in your mind. Why go to all this trouble for one person? Why care so much about keeping you safe? You were just one princess out of many in the world. What made your life worth all this effort?
You couldnât figure it out, and thinking about it too hard made your head hurt. So you finished eating and continued exploring instead.
The next level down held storageâmore supplies, neatly organized. Firewood stacked along one wall. Extra blankets in a chest. Candles. Oil for lamps. Everything maintained and ready.
Finally, you reached the bottom of the tower and stood before the entrance door.
Your heart beat a little faster as you looked at it. The dragon had said it wouldnât lock from the outside. That you could move freely within the tower. But surely that was a lie. Surely it would have secured the door somehow.
Almost without meaning to, your hand reached for the iron ring handle.
You pulled.
The door opened.
Just like that. Easily. No resistance.
You stood frozen, staring at the widening gap, at the courtyard beyond bathed in morning sunlight. The dragon had told the truth. You werenât locked in.
For a moment, you considered stepping outside. Just to see. Just to prove you could.
But then you remembered the view from the windowâthe endless forest, the mountains, the complete absence of any civilization. Where would you even go? You had no idea which direction led to anything, how far youâd have to walk, what dangers lurked in those woods.
The dragon had said the forest was dangerous. That you could be hurt.
Was that true? Or just something to keep you here?
You didnât know. Couldnât know without trying. And trying seemed⊠unwise. At least for now.
Maybe later, when youâd had time to think, to plan. When you werenât so tired and confused.
You let the door close and stood there, hand still on the handle, trying to understand how you felt about this. You werenât locked in, but you also couldnât really leave. It was a strange kind of freedomâor a strange kind of captivity. You werenât sure which.
A sound from outside interrupted your thoughts. Heavy footsteps. Claws on stone.
The dragon was coming back.
Your stomach fluttered with something you couldnât quite name. Not terror, exactly. Just⊠nervousness. Uncertainty. You stepped back from the door as it began to open.
The dragon pushed it inward carefully, and those red eyes found you immediately. Something flickered in themâsurprise, maybe? Then what looked almost like relief.
âGood morning,â it said, its deep voice softer than yesterday. Then, noticing you standing so close to the door, âAh. You tried it. I am gladânow you know I spoke the truth.â
âI canât really leave though,â you said. It wasnât angry, just⊠stating a fact. âCan I? Thereâs nowhere to go.â
The dragonâs expression shiftedâguilt, definitely guilt. It lowered its massive head slightly. âNo,â it admitted quietly. âThe tower is isolated. I chose it for that reason. But you are not locked inâyou can go outside, walk the courtyard, even explore the nearby area if you wish. I only ask that you do not venture into the deep forest. It truly is dangerous.â
You studied its face, trying to read those alien features. It seemed sincere. But then, it had seemed sincere about everything, and you still didnât understand why any of this was happening.
âI brought provisions,â the dragon continued, gesturing behind itself with one wing. You noticed the bundle nowâcloth-wrapped packages. âFresh things. Eggs, jam, bread from a village, vegetables. I thought⊠I hoped you might prefer them to only preserved food.â
It had gone to a village. Flown however many miles to get you fresh bread and eggs.
âThank you,â you said automatically, then felt strange for thanking your captor. But it was kind, wasnât it? Even if everything else about this was wrong.
The dragonâs eyes brightened slightly at your thanks, and it carefully picked up the bundle, bringing it inside and setting it gently on the floor. âI will bring more in a few days,â it said. âWhatever you need. If there is anything you wantâbooks, supplies, anythingâtell me and I will get it for you.â
You wanted to ask for freedom. For answers. For everything to make sense. But you were too tired for that conversation. And the dragon looked almost⊠hopeful. Like your simple thank you had meant something to it.
âI should go,â it said after a moment of silence. âLet you have space. But if you need anythingâtruly, anythingâjust call. I will be close enough to hear.â
âYouâre staying nearby?â The question came out before you could stop it.
âYes.â The answer was immediate, firm. âI would not leave you unprotected. I will remain close. Always.â
Always. Like a guard. Or a warden.
Or something else you couldnât quite name.
The dragon moved toward the door, then paused, looking back. Those red eyes met yours, and there was something in themâsomething almost vulnerable.
âI know this is difficult,â it said softly. âI know you do not understand. But I promiseâeverything I do is to keep you safe. One day, I hope you will believe that.â
Then it was gone, the door closing gently behind it, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a bundle of fresh provisions and more questions than answers.
You stood there for a long moment, then finally gathered the bundle and carried it up to the kitchen.
The dragon had brought eggs. Jam and fresh bread that was still slightly warm. Vegetables. Even a small pot of honey.
You set them out on the shelf, organizing them carefully, trying not to think about what it meant that a dragon was bringing you breakfast like some kind of devoted attendant.
Trying not to think about how, despite everything, some small part of you had actually been grateful for the gestureâor about the small flutter of warmth youâd felt when the dragonâs eyes had brightened at your thanks.
The days developed a rhythm, strange as that seemed.
You woke with the sun. Found that a fire had already been lit in the bathing room hearthâthe dragon came early, before you woke, silent as a ghost despite its size. Youâd bathe, dress in one of the simple gowns it had provided (there were several now, in different colors, all comfortable and well-made). Eat breakfast in the kitchen, usually bread and cheese and fruit, sometimes the eggs the dragon had brought.
Then the day stretched before you, empty and waiting to be filled.
You read. The books the dragon had chosen were genuinely interestingânot just random volumes grabbed to fill shelves, but carefully selected. Poetry that made your chest ache. Histories of kingdoms youâd only heard about in passing. Philosophical texts that made you think. Stories that let you escape, at least for a while, into other worlds where princesses werenât locked in towers.
You explored the tower thoroughly, learning every corner. Found that the dragon maintained everything meticulously. The fires never went out completelyâit must tend them when you werenât looking. The water barrel stayed full. Supplies appeared on the kitchen shelves before you ran low.
It was taking care of you. Providing for you. All while keeping its distance.
You saw it every few days. It would arrive in the morning or evening, always announcing itself with those heavy footsteps so it wouldnât startle you. Always bringing somethingâfresh food, more firewood, once a thick cloak when the weather turned colder.
The conversations were brief. Careful.
âGood morning. I brought apples from an orchard to the south. And more bread.â
âThank you.â
âDo you need anything? Is there anything you lack?â
âNo. Everything is⊠fine.â
âGood. That is good.â
And then it would leave, and youâd be alone again.
You should have hated this. Should have spent every moment plotting escape or raging against your captivity. But instead, you found yourself⊠adjusting. The anger that had burned so hot that first day had banked to confused embers. You were still frightened, still uncertain, still desperate to understand whyâbut the sharp edges of panic had worn smooth.
Maybe that should have worried you. This acceptance. But you were too tired to fight something you couldnât change, and the dragon had been true to every promise it made. You werenât locked in. You werenât harmed. You were, in the strangest way possible, safe.
Even if safe meant alone.
By the fourth day, youâd started talking to yourself just to hear a voice. By the fifth, youâd caught yourself actually looking forward to the dragonâs visits, just for the brief moment of company, the sound of another living being.
By the sixth day, youâd started wondering about it. This creature that stole you away but treated you so carefully. That spoke with such conviction about protecting you. That brought you apples and honey and books as if it wanted nothing more than your comfort.
Why?
The question haunted you, but you never asked. The conversations were too brief, too careful. You didnât know how to bridge that gapâhow to ask a dragon why it cared whether you lived or died.
On the seventh day, everything changed.
You were in the main living area, curled in the chair by the window with a book of poetry, when you heard the familiar sound of footsteps. The dragon was coming earlier than usualâit was barely past dawn.
You set the book aside and moved to the stairs, descending to meet it. Youâd learned it was easier this way, greeting it at the entrance rather than making it climb to your level. The staircase was wide enough for its bulk, but only just, and you could tell it found the space uncomfortable.
The door opened, and the dragon ducked its massive head inside. Those red eyes found you immediately, and something in them looked⊠different. Nervous? Uncertain?
âGood morning,â it said quietly. âI⊠I have something for you. Something I thought you might like.â
It held something carefully in one clawâa book, you realized. Smaller than the others, bound in dark leather that looked old but well-maintained.
You came closer, curious despite yourself. âAnother book?â
âYes. But this one is⊠specific.â The dragonâs voice was softer now, almost hesitant. It held the book out toward you. âI thought you would enjoy it.â
You took it carefully, turning it over in your hands. The leather was soft, worn smooth by time and handling. There was no title on the cover, but when you opened it, you recognized the text immediately.
Your breath caught.
The Odyssey of Stars.
It was an old epic poem, written centuries ago by a traveling bard. A story about wanderers and lost souls finding their way home through impossible odds. Youâd heard about this book years ago from a visiting scholar, had searched for a copy in the royal library, had asked merchants and book dealers if theyâd ever seen it.
It was rare. Incredibly rare. Most copies had been lost to time, and the few that remained were held in private collections or monastery libraries, far from public access.
Youâd wanted to read this for years.
âHow did youâŠâ Your voice came out as barely a whisper. You looked up at the dragon, confusion and something elseâsomething dangerously close to wonderâflooding through you. âHow did you know I wanted this?â
The dragonâs eyes dimmed slightly, and it shifted its weight. âI⊠I knew you searched for it. That you wanted to read it.â
âBut I never told you that.â Your heart was racing now, your mind spinning. âI never said anything about this book. How could you possibly know?â
The dragon was quiet for a long moment, and you could see the conflict in its expressionâwanting to explain, but uncertain how. Or perhaps uncertain if it should.
âI have watched over you,â it said finally, so softly you almost didnât hear. âFor longer than you know. I learned what brought you joy. What you wished for. What you needed.â
The words hit you like a physical blow. Watched over you. For longer than you knew. How long? Months? Years? How much of your life had this creature observed, learning your wants and wishes while you remained completely unaware of its existence?
The book trembled in your hands. You should feel violated. Frightened. Angry that something had been watching you without your knowledge.
But instead, you feltâŠ
Your eyes burned. Your throat went tight. Because this creatureâthis dragon that had stolen you away from everything you knewâhad remembered that you wanted this book. Had somehow found one of the rarest texts in the kingdom. Had brought it to you because it thought it would bring you joy.
âIâŠâ You tried to find words, but they wouldnât come. Your vision blurred with tears you didnât understand. Gratitude and confusion and fear and something too complicated to name all tangled together in your chest until you couldnât breathe.
You clutched the book to your chest and just stood there, speechless, as tears slipped down your cheeks.
âI am sorry,â the dragon said quickly, and there was panic in its voice now. âI did not mean to upset you. PleaseâI only wantedâI thoughtââ
But it stopped, seeming to realize that nothing it said would help. You could see the anguish in those red eyes, the desperate wish to comfort you warring with the knowledge that its presence might be making things worse.
âI will leave you,â it said quietly. âI am sorry. I am so sorry.â
And then it was gone, the door closing behind it with a soft thud, leaving you standing there with tears streaming down your face and a book youâd wanted for years pressed against your heart.
By the time youâd gathered yourself enough to think clearly, to realize you had a dozen questions you desperately needed to ask, the dragon was already gone. You could hear nothing from outsideâno footsteps, no wing beats. Just silence.
You looked down at the book in your hands. Ran your fingers over the worn leather cover.
It had remembered. It had known.
And you didnât know what to do with the strange warmth blooming in your chestâgratitude and confusion tangled so tightly you couldnât separate them, leaving you feeling seen and known in a way that terrified and comforted you in equal measure.
sylus blinked his eyes open. you were standing before him with a huge grin. you brought your hands up to gently caress his face and sylus immediately (but gently) bumped his head towards your chest, nuzzling you. he closed his eyes, relaxing once more under the touch of his beloved mate.
then,
you placed a soft kiss on his temple, another one on the top of his head, another on his snout - and soon he was peppered with kisses all over.
sylus let out a soft, pleased rumble, one eye opening slightly to peek at you. you giggled and pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth.
âhappy dragon appreciation day, sy!â you beamed in a soft whisper-cheer (because the poor dragon was still half-asleep). he released a quick, happy huff before bringing his head back to properly face you.
after a brief yawn, sylus flicked his tongue out and licked a long stripe across your cheek, his own version of a kiss. then he licked your head (the top of your hair sticking up due to his saliva), and licked your neck, the end of his tongue grazing your collarbone.
soon, it was like being groomed by a cat. sylus held you in place with his claws, secure but not painful, and licked all over you, letting you know that he appreciates you too.
so very rushed đ”âđ« but happy dragon appreciation day everyone!! my personal fave is toothless from httyd (which is who i kind of based sylus here off of)
i had a stressful day so i was craving something slow, sleepy and cozy đ€§ idk if i did it right tho
No no no I didnât genuinely find it gross, Iâm sorry if thatâs what I was giving off I ment it more in a way where a puppy licks you. Itâs cute but at the end of the day it still saliva
