Summary: The Batfamily is left to pick up the pieces after your death
WC: 1.3k
Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (???), Mentions of death, canon typical violence, HEAVY ANGST, mentions of pregnancy and labour, mild body horror?
"You fool! We needed the kid alive!"
"I know! I didnt shoot, for fuck's sake. They pushed the trigger!"
"Boss is going to have our heads!"
"Does it matter?? We know the kid is-"
Distracted by their bickering, they didn't notice the dark knight looming over them. The two children huddled in the corner of the pavement had given them a false sense of security, making them lower their guard.
However in Gotham, there was always someone stronger than you.
Damian barely paid any heed to the fight that ensued.
He couldn't get the bleeding to stop.
He felt the blood trickle down, sticky and viscous, pooling on his suit and the gravel below. It was on his hands, the odor making bile rise in his throat.
He'd never been so horrified by violence until now.
He was trained to be an assassin for crying out loud! This was supposed to be normal for him. He was the Robin. He lived in Gotham. He saw things like this everyday.
And yet he felt his heart drop all the way to his stomach when he called your name to no response.
Your mangled face stared blankly up at him and he wanted to scream. He remembered the day he met you like it was yesterday. The way you tried to fight him, the way you stood your ground despite being scared of him. He remembered the feeling of your arms around him, how you'd trusted him with your life.
And he'd broken your trust.
Your face blurred in his vision and he realised he was crying.
"Damianβ¦"
Damian didn't look up. He couldn't meet his brother's eyes when he'd fucked up so bad. The guilt was eating him alive and he felt sick.
"Youβ¦you need to let go, Damian. Please?"
Tim tried to pry your body out of his arms but Damian only held on tighter.
"Noβ¦we..we need to take them to the cave. Alfred can patch them up."
"Damianβ¦"
"I can carry them thereβ¦they just need some first aid and-"
"Damian-"
"We need to hurry. They're in so much pain-"
"DAMIAN, THEY'RE DEAD."
Tim regretted his words the moment they left his mouth, he'd never seen Damian flinch like that before. Slowly, he detached you from his arms and Damian fell back sobbing.
Tim hated how cold you felt in his arms, old blood smearing onto his suit as he tried to support your limp head.
They were too late.
Too late.
Jason sped his way back to his new apartment. He didn't like the fact that he'd left you alone for so long. He intended to return from patrol sooner but he got carried away.
Again.
Parking his bike in the shadows of the old parking garage, Jason hopped out, breaking into a brisk walk. He opened the door, expecting you to pop out from the sound of it butβ¦
Nothing.
What greeted him was an empty apartment.
Waitβ¦empty?
No, you must be asleep. He was late after all and it was already past midnight, past your bedtime.
Not wanting to wake you, Jason quietly shed his gear and approached your bedroom.
The door was ajar.
And you were not in bed.
The old bed creaked as the woman's screams echoed throughout the room. Her hands gripped the bedsheets in a vice. Another contraction hit her, leaving her writhing in agony of her own pregnancy. She could feel the head now, but she'd been here for a while. Sweat beaded on her forehead, baby hair clinging to the moisture. She was tired, utterly exhausted.
And yet she knew she needed to push.
But it would he another hour until the baby would finally come out.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she scrambled to pick her child up.
Without a midwife, she had no idea what to do after birth and she panicked more and more as the seconds ticked by. Umbilical cord left unsevered, she lifted her infant, cradling the small child to her chest as soft wails echoed throughout the room. She could smile for only a moment before her eyelids felt heavy, dizzy from the blood loss. She collapsed with no one near her but her newborn baby.
In the end, Gotham had never been kind to single mothers.
It hardly paid any mind to those that society deemed "flawed". The ones struggling often passed under the radar, buried in the depths of its thick population and most of law enforcement only ever chased after hardened criminals.
And when they weren't busy bursting crime rings, they were responding to smell complaints by local residents.
By the time Detective Jim Gordon had arrived, the smell of death was already permeating through the heavy wooden door of the apartment. Handkerchiefs pressed to their noses, the three policemen nodded to each other in agreement before one of them charged at the door, delivering a kick that left the planks splintering. Another kick was enough to break the door and it flung open. The stench was worse now, clinging to damp air like mold.
Whateverβ¦or whoever was in this apartment was long dead. There was no way anything alive smelled this bad.
After death, decomposition starts within minutes.
Till now, this was just a fact that Tim knew, tucked away in the corner of his brain. He'd dealt with crime sure, but he never lingered close enough to the dead to see decomposition in person.
Till now.
Gingerly, he'd close your open eyes, softly pushing the eyelids shut. Your blank gaze made him uncomfortable. He couldn't do anything about your blue lips though. Or the fact that you felt like a block of ice in his arms.
"Iceβ¦I should get ice?"
You questioned, unsure of how to treat the bruise that bad.
"Y-yeah.." He coughed, trying to shake it off. "If you have anyβ¦"
He watched you scamper away with a determined gait. Too short to reach the freezer, you had to pull a chair under it to get the ice tray. He watched you empty it carefully into an old shirt you had.
You presented it to him with an awkward smile.
"You're a cute kid."
"Ohβ¦thank you" You looked back at the bedroom doorβ¦
The bedroom door slammed shut with a loud reverberating thud.
Jason could feel his heart rate rise, ears going warm with panic. He'd searched the whole place and you weren't here. He didn't know where you could've gone.
Snow came up to scratch at his boots, clearly bothered by your absence as well. He picked her up, placing her on the kitchen table while he paced, trying to think of where you could possibly go.
Hands patting his pockets, he pulled out his burner phone, about to call Batman. A last resort that he didn't do unless his back to to the wall.
"Jason"
In his hurry, he didn't notice the window open and Dick halfway into the apartment.
"Graysonβ¦what- what are you doing-"
"Listen to me" Dick didn't smile, no trace of that signature playfulness in his voice.
And Jason knew instantly that something was very very wrong.
"What happened?"
"Jason, listen-"
"Listen to what, Dick? What happened??"
Nightwing sighed, looking anywhere but at his brother. He didn't know how to break the news. He didn't know what to say at all.
"You need to come to the manor. Now."
Yes, let's go with that.
"Whyβ¦is this about them?"
The mention of you sent shivers down Dick's spine. He nodded with difficulty.
"Are they hurt? Why didn't you bring them here? You know I don't want to go back there."
"I know but this is important-"
"Dammit Grayson just tell me! What the fuck happened?"
"T-they got shot, Jason."
The silence that followed was deafening. Dick expected Jason to start screaming, he wouldn't blame him if he did.
"We couldn't save them, I'm so sorry, little wing."
You were always the forgotten one. You were the eldest like Neteyam, so your father didn't focus on you, and you weren't the youngest so your mother didn't really focus on you, you had no interest in running a muck, so Lo'ak and Spider didn't hang with you, and you didn't want to be a healer so your grandmother was busy with Kiri.
You were used to being alone. You kinda liked it that way. But that didn't mean you wanted to die alone.
It had been like any other raid. Blowing up trains, taking weapons and valuables from the sky demons, it was normal until it wasn't. You felt it immediately hit your side. It sent you and your ikran down. Nobody noticed in the chaos.
You bit your lip, pulling your hand from your side as your gaze locked onto your red soken hand. "Fuck.. nononono..." you were fifteen, you didn't know how to deal with a bullet wound to the hip.
Biting down hard on a piece of cloth, you used the rest to tie it around your hip. It would make do till you got back to camp.
It was already dark. You didn't even know how long you sat there for. By the time you had arrived, the camp was in rest. Your family probably thought you were out by yourself like always.
You didn't want to be a burden. Grandmother had probably treated hundreds today. Why wake her to treat more?
Blood dripped from your side as you hobbled your way to your family's marui. Everyone was asleep, as expected. You bit your lip to hide your hiss of pain as you're laid down on your sleeping mat. Your vision blurred as you curled onto your side, one hand holding onto your wrapped side as unconsciousness took over.
It wasn't until halfway through the next day that your family noticed something was wrong. Tuk had wanted someone to play with. Not your mother's concern of where you had been, not one of your brothers telling you to come eat, you baby sister had been bored.
You were still curled up, your hand now limp, Tuk ran in, storming over to you. "(Name)! Wanna play... a.. game...huh.. what are you covered in..?" Tuk looked down at her hand that had just touched your side. It was covered in a sticky, red, and brown liquid.
"(Name), wake up!" Tuk shook you again, stopping after a few minutes of no reaction. The seven year old pouted, turning around. "Sa'nok! (Name) is ignoring me! She's pretending to be asleep, and I think she got into your paints"
Tuk whined, holding her blood covered hand out to her mother. Neytiri turned her head toward her youngest, her heart stopping. She snatched Tuk's hand, bringing it to her nose. A metallic smell filled her senses.
Neytiri scrambled up, running over to you. The trembling woman turned you onto your back, letting out a cry when you stayed limp.
"Jake..! Ma'Jake! Help me!" Neytiri cried out, pulling the cloth from around your hip off. The wound immediately started pooling blood. Jake came running. He didn't know what was happening, all that Neytiri was screaming.
Noise faded into the background as Tuk watched her parents scrambled around her older sister. She didn't know it yet, but she was the one to discover her older sisters dead body. You had been dead for hours. You hadn't slipped unconscious when you had gotten home. You had died.
(Name) Sully had died alone, thinking her family didn't love nor care about her.
Summary: Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it
WC: 1.4k
Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (?), canon typical violence, mentions of injuries, reader is a lil shit, angst, everything bad that you can think of tbh IM SORRY GUYS I HAD TO- it'll be fine tho I promise just trust!!!! TRUST ME!!!
Jason had had enough.
He was done worrying over your safety.
Done.
He remembered Bruce's words from the night of Ivy's attack.
Truly, it was his responsibility to protect you.
And he had almost failed.
Twice.
There was nothing he wanted more than to leave Gotham for good. Take you away from all the horrors you could ever encounter.
But alas, he couldn't. Not when he still felt the need to cleanse Gotham's streets..Not when he still pursued the Joker, now at large.
He'd promised himself that'd he'd never let the Joker harm anyone ever again.
And he intended to keep that promise.
So here he was, perched atop a roof, on his usual patrol. The night was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that makes you feel uneasy. The silence where you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, where even a pin drop sounds too loud for comfort.
It felt like the calm before a storm.
Joker had been out of Arkham for a few weeks now, and yet, all was normal in Gotham.
It felt odd, to say the least.
Jason breathed under his helmet, worried. He had to find the Joker, no matter what. A strange sense of urgency buzzed inside him, bubbling up in his heart like acid.
Revenge.
He'd kept this feeling in check after he'd found you, he really had. He'd been way less violent, way moreβ¦caring. He'd even spoken to his family, something he once swore he wouldn't do.
But now he felt it again, hot and burning, ugly under his veins. It craved for the Joker to be brought to justice. His fingers flexed near his holster. Oh how much he wanted to put a bullet through that freak's skull.
One day.
β¦.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Damian sounded panicked, which seemed unusual for him as he followed your small form out onto Gotham's streets.
"I'm running away, duh!" You explained confidently, pulling the hood of your raincoat further over your head. A small backpack full of snacks and a few other necessities dangled from your shoulders as you debated where to go from here.
Meanwhile Damian was losing his mind.
"Todd is going to kill us!" He was appalled at your sheer audacity to venture alone afterβ¦.everything, really.
"I thought you weren't scared of him"
"Well, you're not scared enough I think!"
You made a face and Damian couldn't believe that the two of you were almost the same age.
"Relax, I know how dangerous Gotham is-"
"Do you??!"
You glared at him, offended. You'd practically fended for yourself your whole life. Why was now any different?
"You're being dramatic Damiβ¦chill"
Damian opened his mouth to speak but movement at the corner of his vision made him pause and jolt. His eyes flicked to you, blissfully unaware. Heartbeat rising, he realised that the two of you were no longer alone.
Oh no.
In a second he was pulling you close with one arm.
"Dami- what are you doing-" the complaint died on your throat when you saw the shadows surround you on all four sides of the secluded Gotham street.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me-" Damian scanned the area.
He was severely outnumbered.
The goons that surrounded you were, no doubt Black mask's army- he'd heard about the incident that'd happened before. He didn't understand what they wanted with you, you were a nobodyβ¦barely important in the grand scheme of things but they were here now.
And he wasn't going to let them take you.
"Stay behind me"
"But-"
"I said- stay behind me."
He felt you nod and press onto his back, hands on his shoulders as he clenched his jaw, hands grabbing onto his grapple gun.
He would've stayed there to fight them all. But right now, you were his priority. As the first of the goons stepped towards you, he acted- raising the gun towards the nearest skyscraper and landing a damn near perfect shot.
He felt the string tighten.
"Hold on."
With no other warning, he let the grapple pull you both into the air and away from-
"Ahhh-"
Damian panicked as he felt your grip falter and you fell back into the pit of vipers. With no choice left, he let go of the grapple, letting it fly away as he landed beside your writhing form.
You were shaking and he could see the pellets from a stun gun still clinging to your ankle.
Bastards had dared to shock you down.
He didn't know if Tim was at the computer but he pressed a button on his communicator, sending a call for reinforcements quick.
The men lunged at the two of you and Damian sprung into action, kicking amd punching the men away as much as he could, making sure they didn't lay a finger on you but it was clear that he was struggling to fight alone.
You wanted to help, you really did. But the moment your tried, you'd freeze up and cower, and Damian had to come up and help you out, pulling you away from the goons.
"Dami-" You screamed as the men surrounded him and you tried to pry them off of him, only to get punched hard in the face. You gasped and tumbled onto the pavement, feeling warm blood trickle down your nose in a steady stream.
You were dazed from the hit, head spinning and you only snapped out when you felt Damian shaking you. You peered up at him and he didn't look much better than you, his clothes scuffed and dirty and faint bruises blooming onto his skin. His knuckles were red and bleeding and you swore you saw him wince when he spoke.
"Get up, you're okay. It's okay"
You didn't know if he was assuring you or himself but you nodded wordlessly, clambering to your feet the best you could.
Damian hoped someone would show up soon, any of his stupid brothers would do really. He punched down another man, pain shooting up his hand from the force of the hit. He was tired, limbs cramping from sparring so long, it seemed like Black mask had sent all the men in Gotham after you and it didn't make any sense.
Why you?
Even if it was to spite Red Hood, why spend so much man power after a kid?
"Damian!"
Lost in thought, he didn't notice the incoming punch until it was too late. It sent him flying into the wall behind him, crashing into it painfully. He groaned when his head hit the solid brick structure and his body went limp for a second.
He could hear you screaming, could feel your hands on his shoulders shaking him, begging him to wake up.
"Rat-"
He managed to open his eyes, wincing at the streetlight that shined overhead. He managed to prop himself up onto his elbows, only to hear the unmistaken click of a gun.
He felt your arms tighten around him
He heard the man cackle and anger stirred deep into his stomach.
"You knowβ¦" the crunch of his boots on the pavement made Damian imagine the man circling you both like a hyena, like you were merely prey meant to be swallowed whole.
The footsteps stopped close. Too close.
He felt the cold barrel on his forehead.
"We were only here for the kid butβ¦how can you miss the opportunity to take down THE Robin?"
Damian felt you flinch and gasp, despite the ringing in his ears.
"Game over, brat."
β¦
It all happened so quick.
One second Damian was staring down the barrel, waiting, almost daring the man to pull the trigger and the next moment, you'd pounced on him, trying to pull the gun away from him, your tiny body trying to envelop as much of Damian as you could.
You grasped the barrel with your bare hands, trying to wrangle it out of the goons hands.
You could not let him shoot Damian.
In the scuffle, you didn't notice that the gun's nozzle was aimed straight at your jaw
You didn't realise where you were putting your hands, you just wanted the gun.
You didn't realise it until it was too late.
You didn't hear the gunshot.
You felt the pain bloom in your jaw, all the way to your temple.
You saw the way the man's eyes widened as your grip slipped and your knees buckled.
Instead of the cold hard ground, you felt someone's hands on your back.
"Damiβ¦" You tried to speak but you were choking on blood. You tried to cough it out but every movement send Shockwaves of pain throughtout your body.
You looked up only to realise that you couldn't see anything.
You couldn't hear anything.
Because if you could, you'd realise that Damian had been screaming your name the whole time.
notes. sorry iβve been sick but i finally managed to pump out a 7k chapter <3 itβs not much n i wrote this at 3am i am sowwy for any errors
series masterlist -> episode two
When it came to war, victory wasnβt just about who had the most advanced weapons, or the most skilled troops, or the most military power. It wasnβt about who outnumbered who in the battlefield. Wasnβt about the lesser deaths and lesser damages. And definitely wasnβt about who destroyed more territories than the other.
Victory in warfare was about strategy.
From a classic book Satoru had picked up and curiously read back in his teenage years β βThe Art of Warβ by Sun Tzu said that in order to be victorious, there are certain rules in war that one must always keep in mind:
If our forces are ten to the enemy's one, to surround him; if five to one, to attack him; if twice as numerous, to divide our army into two.
If equally matched, we can offer battle; if slightly inferior in numbers, we can avoid the enemy; if quite unequal in every way, we can flee from him.
In his tactical dispositions, he also stated that a clever fighter is one who not only wins, but excels in winning with ease. One may know how to conquer without being able to do it. One may be able to secure himself from defeat, but cannot make certain of defeating the enemy. Therefore, victory wasnβt about physical strength, combat skills, nor an extraordinary display of prowess in the battlefield. It was having a sharp, perceptive mind. It was making astute decisions in the midst of life and death. βAdroitnessβ they called it. And Satoru Gojou had it.
βWatch out for the enemy aircraft. Itβs not an allied plane,β speaking to the radio was the white-haired First Lieutenant himself as he maneuvered the control wheel to his right, tilting the jet in a 60-degree angle while guiding the two other fighter jets tailing him from side-to-side βLetβs move to Zone 6 from our current position.β
βRoger that.β
βCopy.β
And just as the three combat planes flew past a thick array of slate grey clouds, Satoru was laser-focused inside the cockpit while mapping the area in his head so he could visualize the best aviation tactics he could gather from this scene. It was needless to say that the air space was his domain and it went hand-in-hand with his stellar eyesight that allowed him to get a clear vision of the city. Almost like he was omnipresent with his God-like perception. He could sense his brain creating its own GPS coordinates from the seemingly empty skies of Tokyo, which later allowed him to ascertain that there was an unidentified aircraft surrounding them before the radar screen could even detect its movements.
Flying a warplane was no easy task, yet he had soared every corner of Japanβs air space for the last eight years while memorizing all the possible directions where all these hostile aircrafts could launch their missiles. He was only 21 when he was first entrusted to fly an F-15 Eagle, only 23 when he was promoted First Lieutenant of the Japan Air Self-Defense Force, and only 26 when he became the most feared fighter ace after over 207 aerial kills. He had never been shot down nor had he ever lost any of his wingmen during aerial dogfights. He was hailed as a military hero and a legend by his countrymen, but also a ruthless sadist and a staunch nationalist by his enemies.
βBogey sighted.β It was his fellow airman, Yuuta Okkotsu, who alerted his co-pilots with urgency. βThereβs only one in the area, Alpha 1.β
Just as Satoru predicted. βI already got visual on it,β he announced, keeping a tight hand on the throttle lever as he glided the jet in an obtuse angle. βTail the bogey. Iβll cover it from above.β
βRoger,β answered his third airman, Second Lieutenant Suguru Getou, from their fighter squadron, βItβs not a reconnaissance aircraft. Itβs a MiG-29.β
The thing was, although he was the leader of the squadron, Satoru still had to obey orders from his superiors down at the headquarters. The Colonel himself was in the Tactical Command Center and Control Room monitoring every movement of their aircrafts while the team were tracking the enemies crossing the Tokyo air space to do aerial reconnaissance. Thus, whether Satoru liked it or not, firing a missile was always at the decision of the Colonel, and not his. He could only direct his airmen to a certain extent, but never to the point of driving them to an attack. It was an absolute nightmare for a bloodthirsty man like him to hold off on retaliating when he was more than willing to shoot down enemy aircrafts of any caliber for having the audacity to cross his motherland.
βI got a bad feeling about this,β spoke Yuuta from his radio as he flew the Raptor towards the enemyβs MiG fighter jet. That same jet was slowing down its velocity as soon as it sensed Yuutaβs proximity. βItβs slowing down. Iβm gonna cross him.β
Both Satoru and Suguru yelled otherwise from their respective jets. βItβs a trap!β they warned in unison before Gojou continued, βItβs gonna attack from behind!β
In confirmation to the First Lieutenantβs assumption, the enemy pilot did blast off a powerful missile towards the Raptor that, in a matter of seconds, could detonate the entire aircraft it touches.
βShit,β Suguru cussed as he increased his speed while ensuring the stability of his fuselage, βThis is Alpha 2 on standby. Alpha 3 is in danger. Permission to engage?β
Everyone on the radio could hear Yuutaβs panic when the enemy attacked him with its armaments. A fusillade of gunshots were soon fired towards his route and the Raptor could be seen swerving from left to right just to avoid the cannons. βJesus Christ! Itβsβ¦ Itβs shooting me down.β
βMaintain current formation,β answered the Colonel down at the HQ, βDo not fire unless granted.β
Another missile was fired from the enemyβs side.
And another.
βGoddamn. They fired on us first!β The attack led Satoru to grip his control wheel tightly, making a drastic attempt to pull up and accelerate vertically so he could get a better view of the MiG chasing Yuutaβs Raptor plane as the latter made a swift turn to the left to avoid the missile. Unfortunately, the weapon still managed to scrape off the Raptorβs horizontal stabilizer, sending the tail of the jet to an explosion. βAlpha 3βs plane is compromised! Permission to fire, sir?!β
Satoru took a deep breath and held it in as he kept his eyes on the enemyβs aircraft underneath him. Just one press of the red button. Only one long press, and his radar display suggested that he was in the perfect position to blast off a deadly missile towards the bogey. This would have been his 208th kill.
But there was no immediate response from the other end of the radio.
βIβll switch to guns,β Satoru bargained, resting his thumb above the red button at the weapons panel as he waited for the go signal. βPlease confirm. Please, please.β
βDenied,β however, was the answer of their military leader. βPursue the enemy out of the city ASAP. We have civilians down there. Donβt risk it.β
Fuck.
Even Suguru himself was disappointed at the order, but had no other choice except to chase after the steel gray jet. βRoger, Iβm on it.β
βRaptorβs going down hard,β Satoru said under his breath as he caught sight of Yuutaβs aircraft below himβits right wing starting to burn up. 8 years in the air force and Satoru had never lost an airman during combat fights. Not one, not two. Not until today. He had responsibilities towards the lives of his airmen and if Yuuta couldnβt make it this time, Satoru knew that the burden of losing a member would haunt him forever. He wasnβt crazy for wanting to protect the lives of his fellow soldiers. βYuuta, lead the jet out of the city limits, do you copy?β
βYuuta.β
βYuuta, do you copy?β
ββ¦Yuuta, eject now! NOW!β
It took a few minutes for the younger airman to respond, mumbling incoherent words through the radio as if he was fumbling over the navigation. βI-Iβm going to e-eject.β
Relief washed over Satoruβs body as soon as he heard the sound of Yuutaβs voice, yet it didnβt help that he was still at the height of tension because the bogey that nearly killed his airman was still flying freely around Tokyo. β1 plane down, 2 to go.β The enemy must be feeling smug for shooting down a Raptor, especially when there were three of them and only one of him, but Satoruβs pride would not allow them to lose this dogfight. Even if it was just between him and the enemy, he would risk his own life just to ensure that the bogey would never be able to fly around his land ever again. Satoru Gojou dedicated his entire life to put his nation first before himself; it was a pledge he had made the moment he joined the JASDF and he would stick to it even if he was at the median between life and death.
He was ready to die for his country, whether that be today, tomorrow, or any other day soon.
Yet, at the back of his mind, losing this battle would also mean leaving the person he loved behind. All the promises he had made, the moments he would miss, the marriage vows he was still yet to exchangeβonly the thought of you came inside his mind while 65,000 feet in altitude.
βPlease. Just please stay.β You reached for his hand and squeezed it with all your might as if being able to feel your desperation could somehow change his mind. Satoru was even certain that you would have begged to no end if you could. βI donβt want you to go to war anymore. We need you here. I need you here. I-I donβt know what Iβd do if something happens to you.β
He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and pulled you close. βThey need to deploy me up there. I have to do my job.β
βIf you walk out of that door, I swear to God,β you paused, voice shaking and eyes brimming with gut-wrenching tears, βIβm never going to forgive you.β
He wasnβt exactly choosing his military duties over you, but saving the people also meant that he was saving you. To keep you away from danger was his utmost priority, but in order for that to be possible, a little bit of sacrifice must be made.
And a little bit of hope that he would come back safe.
βIβll come home to you, I promise. I asked Anais to look after you while Iβm gone.β His saccharine words were added with a loving kiss he had planted on your stomach. He could feel his heart swelling at the thought of your bump getting twice as large by the time he returned. βKeep mommy safe, okay?β
Your face, on the other hand, melted into inexplicable pain. βS-Satoru, please.β
βI gotta go.β It took him a lot to pull away from you as if the heaviness in his heart brought a stronger force than the Earthβs gravity. But he had to leave. He had to cup your face, press his forehead against yours, and kiss you one last time. βI love you.β
βIβm gonna fire.β Satoru announced his decision as he manned the control wheel and steered the Eagle vertically. βI have to.β
And he had to go home to his pregnant girlfriend. Safe.
βFirst Lieutenant Satoru! Get a hold of yourself!β The Colonel did not hold back on displaying his exasperation. βYou are not given permission to shoot! Hold your fire or there will be penaltyββ
βItβs not a reconnaissance plane! This thingβs going to drop a nuclear bomb on us.β He spoke with tensed jaws, the veins in his neck were standing out in livid ridges. It was ridiculous that he couldnβt even engage while the enemy was showing its hostility like this. Satoru wasnβt flying an air superiority aircraft for nothing and he planned to let his superiors understand the consequences that bad decisions could lead them to. βTrust me on this, Colonel. Weβd have a lot more civilian casualties if I donβt shoot it now! That MiG has a nuclear bomb loaded and itβs going to kill hundreds and thousands of innocent lives. Every second is crucial and the moment we delay any form of attacks, itβs going to take advantage.β
βIβm with Alpha 1, sir,β added Suguru, matching the speed of the MiG aircraft while sending his best friend a salute. βIβll lead the bogey to the pacific. We got this.β
Certainly. And just the sight of Yuuta ejecting from the canopy, Satoru could feel chills running down his spine while imagining the horrifying thought of his airman in those angry flames that swallowed his aircraft. But Yuuta was alive and safe now. They only had the enemy to focus on, but how come everything suddenly became suffocating? His heart was thumping at an unstable rhythm. His lungs were requiring him to have more oxygen intake. There was no explanation to the phenomenon that he was experiencing internally at that momentβall he knew was that it was a sign for him to choose a decision based on his own judgment without the command of his superiors.
While flying the Eagle at top speed, it felt as though the fighter jet was slicing through the Earthβs atmosphere by the time he went head-to-head against the MiG. His acceleration gave him the chance to then be able to get a millisecond glimpse of the pilot from the country that started this eraβs World War. Why, if anything, should Satoru show mercy on a person that participated in killing millions of innocent people across the world?
Due to his fast reflex, he succeeded in avoiding the cannonade from the bogey, only receiving partial damages on the canopy and the fuselage, but not enough to disrupt the inertial navigation system. In return, the First Lieutenant along with his infamous icy glare showed zero hesitation before he pressed two red buttons that released a precision attack from AIM-120 AMRAAMs. Screams and orders from an angry set of military superiors could be heard from the radio, but Satoru was far too focused on the missiles that tailed his enemy like a loaded firework that was ready to explode.
βBogey is away from the city limits,β he spoke to the radio, βSuguru, you can go vertical as fast as you can.β
βCopy that.β
The MiG was on a deadend despite facing a never ending sky in front of him because the missiles were built to chase the enemyβs trail. And so, it didnβt even last more than two seconds until the bogey detonated from the highly explosive weapon shot down by Japanβs infamous fighter ace. It was in Satoruβs belief that no enemy should escape his country alive, therefore, after seeing that the enemy safely ejected himself out of the jet, Satoru circled back to the area and loaded up his 20mm gatling guns to completely assassinate the pilot on his parachute to death.
There must have been 35 bullet holes on his body, none of which could still render him alive after this aerial dogfight.
There was an obvious sense of satisfaction when he flew back to the military zone while discerning the Tokyo skies free from any more unidentified enemy aircrafts. His pride gave him the self-gratification that he needed after following decisions on his own no matter what kind of consequences were awaiting him at the headquarters. They could confiscate his badge, take his insignia, and strip him of all the rights he had as a fighter pilot and a military officer, or worseβdishonorably discharge him, but none of the aforementioned repercussions had surprisingly greeted him as he hopped out of the Eagle.
Among the high-ranking officers and their phlegmatic faces that welcomed him back at the headquarters, it was the Colonel that first made a remark about Satoruβs boldness in the earlier interception. βThat was risky behavior you showed up there, First Lieutenant Satoru.β
As he took off his helmet and mask, the white-haired ace offered an apathetic salute. βYou could thank me for saving lives. The crash was off the city limits like you wanted, sir.β
βYou killed the enemy,β the older man reiterated, his eyes growing as dark as his raven mustache, βWe had an agreement that we will only hold them captive. If you think weβre safe now, Iβm telling you that country is more than capable of sending a hundred more aircrafts as revenge.β
βThen, Iβll kill a hundred more of them.β Satoru continued to remove his gloves as he walked along the hallways while the Colonel, the officers, and the military personnels followed his trail inside the center. A quick pivot on his heel made him turn to face his superior with a salute. βIt was nice flying by your useless commands today, Colonel. I hope they find a better person for your position soon.β
For now, his duty was over. And although it did not end as pleasantly as one would expect, he still spared his country from unexpected nuclear warfare. No one with a sound mind should assume that they were totally safe from nuclear attacks, but the goal was to defect them as much as they could. Not triggering the enemy could make them look weak as opposed to showing the enemy that Japan was not a country they should mess with. He knew that the events today would not be the last, but if the enemy were to wipe out the entire nation, they would have to go through JASDFβs brutal sky domination first.
And the person behind every successful interception was him.
Yet, in spite of all his sacrifices and his heroic intentions, the battlefield did not end in the Tokyo skies. The battle, the only one he had ever lost, was in the infirmary after a nurse had informed him of an incident concerning the woman that he loved the most.
βWhatβs wrong?β he worriedly asked, cupping your cheek and staring at your listless eyes as he sat at the edge of your hospital bed. βWhat happened while I was gone?β
Heartbreaking silence was your only response.
βThe baby.β It was your fellow nurse who answered. βSir, sheβ¦ she collapsed and lost the baby after you left.β
2 YEARS AFTER
βWhy do you keep testing his commitment to the air force?β You had already lost count of the amount of times your step-sister, Anais, would follow you around the bunkers only to question your relationship with Satoru. βHeβs a hero, Y/N. Itβs his lifelong dream to become a General. Heβs keeping all of us safe. Heβs defending our homeland. Iβve known Satoru since we were kids and heβs always been a man who would put others first before himself. You shouldnβt corner him into a position where he has to choose between you and his duty.β
You ended up continuing your footsteps a tad bit faster than hers so you could escape the unreasonable nonsense that she was blathering about. To keep it together and ignore her has been your specialty by now. So that was exactly what you did. And as you entered the central dining hall, you immediately had the familiar smell of rusting metal along with the fetor of gunpowder that hung in the air. It came to the point where you no longer had the appetite to eat enough nor did you have the energy to interact with everyone in this underground environment that they had opened to citizens from over a year ago after they failed to stop the nuclear warfare.οΏΌ
They said the nuclear war was nearly over, yet you had not managed to see sunlight for the past two years ever since the rest of you βsurvivorsβ were thrown into an underground city built only to carry a population of 2,500 people. You worked as a ward nurse, mostly to aid wounded soldiers, and you knew exactly the consequences of what would happen to those who regularly went out of the underground base. You had seen plenty of them down at the infirmary and had to give each and everyone of them the false hope that they still had the possibility to live even after being exposed to extreme radiation. That those acute skin burns that turned into cancer; those inflamed, red scabs that never healedβthat they could get better. That they could survive it. That they were lucky enough not to be like those who were incinerated entirely.
You were a liar after all.
So much so to the point where you were feeling less and less emotions when you had to witness the death of another fallen soldier. It no longer mattered to you if they were once someoneβs parent, child, spouse, or sibling. It didnβt matter anymore that you now had to stand next to a woman who was just heavily mourning the death of her husband yesterday when you tried to resuscitate his life to no avail. Here she was, proceeding with her life in spite of her soulless eyes as she lined up to get a tray at the cafeteria. Here she was, barely noticing your presence beside her as you both mechanically walked to get stale food from overworked cooks who could also feel the same tedious, unenthusiastic life routine. Waking up each day, fulfilling mandatory tasks, eating rationed meals, and going back to bed. It didnβt help that all you could see from left to right were dull gray metal and unpainted concrete. Or people wearing the same dark jumpsuits as if you were all prisoners under the rubbles of an ashen city. You could understand why the widow you comforted yesterday looked like she was ready to just take her own life rather than spend the rest of it down here.
Because that same feeling was once within you.
It had been two years since you lost your baby, but you couldnβt say that your heart, despite being calloused, had completely healed. The reason why Anais had been pestering you about your treatment towards Satoru was because it had been your personal choice to detach your emotional dependence on him. He, too, was heartbroken at the loss of his child, but he could never understand the gravity it had on you. You nearly begged on his knees to stay at home before that one tragic day happened and it always left lingering a thought in your mind that your baby would have been 2 years old by now had Satoru chosen to stay.
He didnβt stay that day and he had been telling you every day for the past year that it was one of his biggest regrets in life. That he wished he could have turned back time. That he wanted to punish himself for saving countless childrenβs lives but not his own. You didnβt speak much to him and decided to keep your grief in silence despite the numerous times he had tried to apologize. Eventually, he stopped pursuing you, and your life had become a routine of simple hiβs and helloβs. You two were overcome by lassitude, sent down to the abyss of internal conflicts that were never fixed through proper communication. There were days where he would be deployed and be gone for months. There were days where he would briefly come back and talk about the men they had lost in war. There were days where you two would be in bed wrapped up in each otherβs naked bodies, yet no word or any form of intimacy would be shared. There was no connection anymore. It was kind of justβ¦ doing intimate things for the sake of relieving emotional stress. It was just living and breathing and being there. It was just reminding yourself that he was still alive and that you still had him.
The attacks left everyone traumatized, but Satoru focused on his military duties and worked hard to rise up to the position of a Lieutenant General after overthrowing his incompetent superiors. He was only 28 years old and was already the 2nd highest ranking military officer in the entire nation. Everywhere he went, people respected him. They would bow down to him. They were intimidated at the sight of him. They would treat him like a saint. You would have been extremely proud of him if only it didnβt have to take your babyβs death for him to reach his dream.
And these thoughts you had now were the exact reasons why your step-sister would not leave you alone. To her, you were being unreasonable. Selfish. Ungrateful.
ββyou canβt make this about you when heβs only concerned about the safety of our people,β she said. It was probably even offensive to her that you were sitting at a table, dipping your single piece of bread in a bland mushroom soup as she went on and on about your life. βY/N, I understand your pain and I know itβs been hard for you ever since you lost your unborn baby, butβ¦ itβs been two years. Youβre making Satoru suffer by blaming the miscarriage on him. Miscarriages literally happen to so many women during war. Do you really want to raise your child at a time like this? Think of your loss as a blessing in disguise.β
Insensitive. So damn insensitive.
You kept your gaze straight ahead, choosing not to meet Anaisβ eyes and just watch the people in queue being given rationed food which, in their words, were still better than MREs. The food supply was scarce and just enough to keep the people alive, but even then, famine was another issue aside from the nuclear devastation on the ground above this man-made city. You had seen children at the infirmary showing signs of malnutrition and as much as it broke your heart, there wasnβt much you could do. Perhaps, at Anaisβ last words, she was right. But you could never let your heart accept that.
βY/N, please. Are you listening to me?β Anais sighed as she sat in front of you.
You chewed your bread slowly and finally broke your commitment to staying taciturn. βWhat exactly do you mean by βmaking him sufferβ?β
Her eyes had fire behind them, almost as red as her long, wavy hair. Her obvious frustration was more so because your indifference was a hit to her pride as Gojouβs beloved childhood best friend. βYouβre basically ignoring his existence,β she told you, βDo you realize that the way youβre treating him reflects the way he treats the rest of us? His subordinates are telling me heβs the harshest heβs ever been to them. He also doesnβt talk to me nor Ares anymore. Heβs always cold and temperamental andβ¦ andβ¦ I donβt know. Heβs not the same.β
βHeβs a grown man. It was his choice to change the way he treats you all,β you replied, pushing the plate away. To reinforce your statement, you began to add, βItβs not my responsibility to care about every single one of your feelings.β
You missed him, of course you did, but the past two years had been difficult for you both. It was even harder to just reconnect and act like nothing strained your relationship with him while knowing deep, deep down that the unbearable pain of losing a child would always stab you to the core.
βDonβt be cruel,β Anais called out just as you were getting up from your seat, βI donβt think you even love him to begin with.β
You stopped from your tracks, and only slightly did you turn your head towards her. βDo you?β
The question took her aback. βThatβsβ¦ Thatβs not what I meant.β
How funny. βFor a second there, I thought you were his lover.β
You had never been like this to Anaisβnever been one to talk back, never been one to be spiteful, never been one to walk out and turn your back on her as you decided to leave the sterile environment of the crowded cafeteria on your way to a much, much peaceful place away from everyone else.
Anais and her brother, Ares, were twin siblings, and the both of them were considered as the first family of your late father before he took your mother in as a mistress. That description alone was enough for anyone to assume that you didnβt really have a good relationship with your step-siblings when your father brought you into their family. All your life, you had been ostracized. They were sent to private schools, spoiled with the most lavish things, and treated with blinding privileges, but despite having half the same blood running through your veins, you didnβt experience life the same way they did. Or at least, life before the ripple effects of the nuclear war.
There were boundaries you werenβt allowed to cross back then, and only at 18 years old while working as a ward nurse when you met a wounded soldier named Satoru Gojou did your life start to change.
The person who reminded you of this βabominable changeβ was none other than your step-brotherβthe same person you saw while walking along the corridor towards the med bay. With his furrowed red brows and downturned lips, you could already tell that he was coming to you after having heard the exchange you have had with his twin sister back at the dining hall. Ares was always like this; defensive, hot-headed, and to put it simply, an asshole. Between him and Anais, he was the one who had been vocal about his distaste with you for being a simple freeloader in his family.
So seeing him now, stomping towards your direction with a killer gaze wasnβt exactly new. He had done worse.
βIβll be on duty,β you advised as you heard his footsteps within an armβs distance, βStop following me around.β
βYouβre so full of yourself, huh,β Ares hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and giving you the same resentful look he carried each time you crossed his path. βIsnβt it enough that you get to live in a private quarter while my sister and I have to sleep in the bunkers with the rest of these people? Do you even deserve that spot? Do you deserve the privilege you get just because Satoru nii-san is the Lieutenant General? Quit parading yourself around like youβre his wife.β
You chose to stay silent, not because you were agreeing with your step-brother, but because arguing with a manchild who already had preconceived judgment about you was futile. It was a waste of time and most definitely a waste of precious oxygen to even respond to.
βTheyβre childhood best friends,β he continued, much to your dismay, as if you didnβt know that damn fact already. βHe was supposed to be with my sister, but you seduced him and got knocked up, and now Anais has to suffer from the consequences! Youβre no better than a whore like your momββ
Before your step-brother could continue his acidic remarks, you met his words with a harsh slap that left a bright, red mark on his cheek. βI dare you insult me in front of Satoru,β you warned through gritted teeth, thinking about how you wouldnβt have reacted in such a violent way had he kept your mother out of his mouth, βI dare you say it again and pray to yourself you donβt get killed. Satoru is a brutal man.β
Ares raised a hand. βYouββ
You didnβt flinch from the sudden jerk of his hand not just because it wasnβt the first time he had tried hurting you (the bruises on your leg, hip, and arm could attest to that), but also because he couldnβt proceed harming your face the moment Shoko Ieiri walked out of the infirmary in her white lab coat, pulling her surgical mask down to her chin and staring back-and-forth between you and your visibly angry step-brother.
βIs everything okay?β asked her. In her own way, she was only preventing things from escalating further into violence.
βDr. Ieiri,β you greeted your colleague with a light bow, βI was just on my way to you.β
She nodded, although still eyeing Ares on the side. βWell, good timing βcause I need your help with the patient on the right wing. Heβs on the sixth bed.β Then she redirected her gaze towards your assaulter. βAre you here to get treated as well?β
You could almost hear the string of curse words behind Aresβ tight lips, but he restrained his despicable thoughts from coming out since showing his true colors in front of a renowned doctor like Shoko could get him in so much trouble. Well, you didnβt care whether or not he would continue his outburst. All you were focused on doing now was to reach for the medical cart before heading to the right wing to meet another wounded patient who joined the rest of the soldiers lying on their bed, hidden behind those white curtains. If only you could wear scrubs on a day like this.
Unfortunately, wearing a surgical mask could not suffice when your nose was intensely rejecting the noxious chlorine-like fumes that were coming from the hazmat suits. If the hazardous smell could penetrate your olfaction that much, you could only imagine how worse things could be up there.
6th bed on the right wing. Right. There was no 6th bed. Ieiri was referring to the farthest room to the right side of the infirmary, a private medical room specifically to cater the military officers with honorable rankings. You took a deep breath and conserved enough oxygen in your lungs as you glanced at the wounded man behind the glass panel. He was holding his bloody left rib, topless above his bed while waiting for a nurse to come to his aid.
βDo you need stitches?β you asked without returning his longing gaze after you entered the code to his private room. While pushing the cart near the side of his bed, you quickly rummaged through the box and pulled out all the necessary antiseptic instruments you could use on him.
He, on the other hand, tried to sit up before wrapping a hand around your waist. βAre you not gonna ask me how I got hurt?β
Your eyes trailed down on the gash below his left rib. It was about the length of your hand, but wasnβt really deep enough to be life-threatening. The amount of bleeding could have placed him at risk, however, he seemed to have managed to stop it before even coming here. It was either a knife or a bullet he had dodged. You didnβt bother asking. βIβm gonna clean it,β you said, βJust sit down.β
Satoru raked his fingers through his white hair. A look of frustration was bubbling behind his sky blue eyes. βBabe.β His voice dropped an octave lower. βI could have died today, you know. A prisoner from the enemy forces escaped the dungeon and he attempted to assassinate me with multiple gunshots. Imagine if I didnβt dodge them.β
So, a bullet. You guessed right. βYou are Satoru Gojou,β was your expressionless response while dabbing a piece of cloth with saline solution around his wound, βThis is as far as anyone could get to you.β
Literally. Because a Lieutenant General shouldnβt even be walking around unarmed without soldiers protecting him. He didnβt enlighten you further about the attack, but was far too invested in the way your hand was brushing against his chest as you tried to wrap a bandage around his lean body. βI missed you,β he whispered, tucking a few strands of your hair behind your ear, βI missed you so fucking much. This is the only time youβve ever paid attention to me.β
His fingers traveled down to your spine, then further down to the slope of your back before he rested them on your hip. Satoru attached his lips on your shoulder soon after, but you pulled away and placed your hands against his pectoral muscles. βDonβt get too cozy around me if youβre just gonna leave again.β
βI didnβt want to leave you,β he countered, letting you pin the blood-soaked bandage around him just as he made you sit on his lap. βI know I canβt bring back our babyβs life and Iβm the person to blame for that, butβ¦ please, please let me start over with you. Iβd never give up on you until youβve forgiven me.β
βWe canβt start over in an environment like this.β You dodged his attempt to kiss your lips, but could feel his warm breath fanning the expanse of your neck. βYou canβt just ask me to forget about everything when living here is an everyday reminder of the devastating things that happened to us.β
His cold hands cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at his crystalline irises. They were a shade of blue that reminded you of an ice giant in the same solar system as the Earth. He had Neptunes for eyes and a warm Sun for a heart, but yours was nothing but a blackhole ready to swallow every strong emotion down to your void. That was how your relationship started to feel empty. He could sense that, too. βI know,β he said, βI know, baby. Thatβs why I have plans for us. Weβre not gonna stay here forever.β
βWhat do you mean?β Your question, however, was answered by a kiss.
One quick kiss, you assumed. You thought he would soon resume to explain his βplansβ right after you indulged him with a kiss, but perhaps the familiarity of his touch made you crave for something more. The feeling of his skin. The warmth of his touch. The pleasure of his kisses. This was the man that loved you with every fiber of his being. He was someone who confessed his feelings for you from the moment he first met you. Meeting him was almost like a kilonova; a transient astronomical event that occurs when two neutron stars merge. It becomes a blackhole.
And this connection, this bond, this twin flame energy you share with him were the same ones that could salvage the abyss you two had created in between.
βSatoru.β You breathed through his neck, feeling the intensity of your euphoric state as you moved on top of him. He held your hips in place with a tight grip, his mouth parting open just enough to match the lustful gaze from his half-lidded eyes. βS-Satoru, Iβ¦ I hate you.β
The white-haired man dug his face on the slope between your chests, leaving affectionate kisses on your cleavage only so he could map your mounds with his marks. βIβd hate me, too,β he responded, cupping your breast before diving in to wrap his mouth around the nub. βHate me all you want, my love. Iβd still keep running after you.β
In the middle of the night in your shared private quarters, the dim lights added to the sensual gratification of reconnecting by body, mind, and spirit with your partner in life. Despite the wounds on his rib that limited the movements of his hips, he could still hit your most pleasurable places with you on all fours and him thrusting from behind. A hand was keeping your hips in place as the tip of his member moved in and out of your hole, stretching your walls until he was able to reach his release.
βFuck,β he cussed under his breath, panting as he fell on top of you. He distracted your soreness below by placing a soft, affectionate kiss on your lips. The one where he was completely enveloping his lips with yours, running his tongue along your lower lip, and deepening his access by swirling the wet muscle around the cavern of your mouth. When he pulled away, his shiny eyes were more illuminated than the faint yellow lighting of your room. βLetβs talk tomorrow. Go to sleep.β
Should you ask him now or should you succumb to sleep? Because you were at a point of exhaustion from a long night of passion with the man you loved, you decided that it wouldnβt hurt to wait one more day to hear whatever it was that he had to say.
He had so much to say.
Satoru hasnβt gotten any wink of sleep after you made love all night, wondering if this feeling could last forever. Perhaps he could place it in a jar and keep it sealed there. How could he protect someone without hurting them? How could he fulfill his role without sacrificing anything?
If it was good news to you, he had already decided. The war was over, but the world was hopeless. There was no other possible way to live through this world except to escape it.
But before that could happen, he still had duties to do and people he had to get back to.
Somehow, when he kissed your forehead while you were sleeping soundly in bed, he was even more determined to get up and get the job done. He put on his uniform, wore his kepi, and slipped on his military boots. The badges and insignia on his uniform wasnβt what scared the living lights out of the soldiers and civilians he passed by while walking towards the armory. They were scared of the stony expression he was wearing on his face. Mouth clamped and eyes fixed. A cloud of warning was settling over his features.
βGeneral,β spoke one of his subordinates, βHeβs been held captive last night.β
Satoru faced his soldiers with his chin up high. βYou can proceed. Make sure Anais wonβt hear about this.β
βSir, yes sir!β
It didnβt take another minute for the red-haired male twin to be kicked out of the storage roomβhis face marked with bruises as he weakly ran towards Satoru in pitiful desperation. He was coughing up blood before going down on his knees to beg for his life. Even Major Suguru Getou couldnβt stand the sight of Ares crying like a child when he was just asserting dominance and violence on an innocent woman who deserved none of it.
βN-Nii-sanβ¦ Please, get me outta here.β His voice reflected the amount of suffering he had endured the night before. βIβm sorry, Iβm sorryβ¦β
The Lieutenant General crouched down to meet the manβs gaze at the same level, but the difference was that the former was entertained while the latter was horrified.
βDonβt you know?β Satoru asked with the corner of his lips slightly upturned, βWeβll have to lessen the oxygen release from the tank down to twenty percent so we can conserve enough for all the people down here.β
Why, should he ask, was it relevant to say now?
Ares already knew why, and he understood exactly what every word meant. βN-Noβ¦ M-My sister. Sheβs only got me. Nii-san, donβtββ
Too late.
βTake him to the gas chamber at once,β he ordered the soldiers in formation as he walked out of the storage room. They all gave him a salute before following his commands. βMake his death quick and feed his remains to the dogs. I want none of the civilians to know about this.β
If anything, the cold and ruthless Lieutenant General Satoru Gojou still had the courtesy to get up, turn around, and leave. He was often one to watch his enemies die before his eyes, but this was a different case overall. Ares was the brother of his childhood best friend, and so he couldnβt stand the thought of hearing his screams if he stayed another second longer down at the storage rooms. He was only doing him a favor of making his punishment a lot more humane that he would have done to others, but he still had to have him killed. He still had to pay.
And this was the clear proof that Satoru had already lost all of his conscience due to the remnants of war that deeply calloused his soul.
Satoru stands before you, his gaze ever searching through yours, embedding it in a way you wish he wouldn't. Within his deep-set blue eyes, something feels amiss. They don't look manipulative β no mischief you could have detected right away. There is obviously no trace of the certain way his eyes bring about in him.Β
This one watches you softly, almost carefully. Not meekly though; rather, it holds a kind of innocent trait that is nearly impossible for Satoru to possess.
"Don't fuck with me right now . . ." You hear yourself say. There is a hint of a humorless laugh attempting to break away.Β
"I β" his voice cracks.Β It's unlike him.Β
"What have you done?" You start. "Hm?"
Satoru remains rigidly quiet.Β
"Say something," you push his chest harshly, "you always get the last comment, so say something."Β
He closes his eyes.Β
You shake your head. There is something you can't quite control trying to flow out of your eyes, yet you force it to stop.
"Satoru," you call with that sweet voice he loves most, "why do you have stitches on your head? Hm? Couldn't you have gone to ShΕko for that? Why mar your perfect forehead?"Β
Clearing his throat, he says, "I-I had to do it . . ."
"Do what?" Your head tilts, questioningly. "Is there something you didn't tell me?"Β
His lips tremble faintly. Anyone might have missed it. But the thing about you is that you know Satoru most. That little quirk of his lip will never go unnoticed by you βΒ even if it's unlike him to do so.
You ram your fist against his chest again. He only takes one step back.Β
"Satoru. I am waiting."Β
Deep down in your heart, you know what is true. This isn't Satoru. This isn't the man who promised you absolution. This, who stands before you, is shaking, even if his eyes refuse to look anywhere else but your presence.Β
However, your mind conjures the easiest plausible escape first.Β
Denial.Β
Denial. Denial. Denial. That's what it is.Β
Then this Satoru calls out your name, and that's when you know you can't run away from the truth forever.Β
"GojΕ SenseiΒ β"
The scream tears through you in the most unthinkable sound to have ever graced your lips, effectively cuttingΒ YΕ«taΒ off. It's the combination of all there never would be anymore: the longing, the love, the loss, the anguish, the teasing, and the knowing of never having to see him again.Β
YΕ«ta looks at you through Satoru's eyes β through those eyes that you loved most, that you've watched open and close many,Β manyΒ times β as his fingers shake uncontrollably, not knowing how even toΒ beginΒ rectifying this.Β
"I have to β" his voice cracks brokenly, "β please understand, I had to. I'd never wanted this. I'm sorry."
You scream louder, like a possessed being wailing across the souls of those alive. You pull your hair; strands fall on the ground. And you do just about anything to try and withdraw from this horrible pain.Β
"I only have a minute left . . . I have to return to my body. But, I couldn't leave him out there . . ." YΕ«ta weeps openly. "I can't leave GojΕ Sensei alone. I wanted to bring him back to you. Somehow. Someway. I'm sorry. I should've β"Β
Perhaps it's YΕ«ta, being ever the kindest kid you have met, or maybe it's the muscle memory of your lover; whoever took control, they enveloped you into his arms. You can feel the warmth of his body encasing you in its last burst of energy, and you cling onto that, onto him who's nothing but a carcass already.Β
And you finally collapse.
"How could you do this to me!" You hear yourself scream. YΕ«ta doesn't let you go. He holds you tighter. You can still smell the faint scent of Satoru. "How could you! This wasn't part of the plan! You told me you'd win! You said you would! Where is it?! How dare you! How fucking dare you! How could you do this to me, Satoru!"
For that whole minute YΕ«ta gives you, he holds you like how his sensei would've. He whispers things to your ear, deluding you into believing itΒ wasΒ Satoru. Until his body convulses, and with one last apology, both from the man you loved and the student you care for most, YΕ«ta finally returns to his own body, and you are left with the real Satoru β hollow and empty and still.Β
Your hands fumble up in the air, your mouth hangs wide open for a scream that never comes, your eyes well with so many tears, wide and unblinking, and you look at nowhere else but to your own lover who stares at you. The blues have dimmed to grays.Β
"Don't do this to me, please. I'm begging you so much. Please, Satoru. Please, please, please." You beg, shaking his body desperately. "Please. Please, please, please, Satoru, please, please, please, please."Β
You continue to shake him. Maybe if you shake him a bit harder, he'd jump-start and return. He'd make a teasing remark that he got you good this time. You wouldn't get angry. You wouldn't even smack the hell out of him. In fact, you'd laugh with him. You'd kiss him, and kiss him, and never let go.Β
"Please, Satoru. Please. Please. Please, open your eyes. I'm begging you. I'll do anything, please, wake up. Please, please, please, for me."Β
YΕ«ta kneels in front of you. "I-I'm sorry. I β GojΕ Sensei has to rest his eyes. Let me . . . p-please."Β
You don't remember whether or not you've agreed; all you remember is that Satoru's eyes close for the final time when YΕ«ta's bloodied fingers decide to force them to rest. You are too numb to do it, and he is too selfless to let you.Β
Then that's when you begin to bargain. You beg, scream, and demand that there might be some curse technique out there that can bring him back. When the only breathing person in the infirmary tells you that there isn't any curse he knows of, you try another way.
You manage to crawl on your knees towards YΕ«ta, begging him to curse Satoru the way he did to Rika for her.
That you would take care of him, that you would set him free eventually, that it would be okay β just, just, just please, bring him back.Β
But YΕ«ta can only force himself to hold your hand, crying with you in hiccups and ragged breathing because he can't, above all else, comply with your wishes. "GojΕ Sensei told me not to."Β
And you scream again. "That isn't fair! He left me! How could he have done this? When he knows I can't do this without him! I can't do this! YΕ«ta, I can't. Please! Please! Bring him back! To me! Please!"Β
Someone tries to enter the room. You throw the nearby thing you can hold onto, which is a chair.
"GET OUT! GET OUT ALL OF YOU! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!"
YΕ«ta pushes the other objects away from your grasp, and immediately orders the people outside not to enter under any circumstances. Then, he crouches to your level and holds you tightly. YΕ«ta says nothing, despite your nails digging against his back, despite you pulling the front of his hair and shirt, despite everything you're putting him through.Β
Things wouldn't stop moving, breathing, and living. And yet, YΕ«ta continues to hold you.
"YΕ«ta," you beg once more, in a whisper no less broken than the others you've implored, "please! Please, bring him back to me. What can I do to make you help me bring him back? Please, YΕ«ta."
"I can't. IΒ won't."
"W-Why?"
YΕ«ta sobs. "Because G-GojΕ Sensei told me not to."
True Blue - 1: It's Not The Heat it's the Humidity
18+
Authors Note: Hiii, if you are interested in being added/unadded to the tags list just let me know. Thank youu!! This is my first ever fic so sorry if it is rough in some areas. I appreciate all the support! If you have any suggestions or thoughts feel free to comment. I suggest checking out the chapter themes as they help set the tone. Credits to toovaeloe for inspiring this fic.
Synopsis: When a routine delivery goes awry, you find yourself stranded between two islands. Alone, dehydrated, and at the mercy of the ocean. But what you thought would be a simple rescue turns into a nightmare. You are captured by two enigmatic sirens, Satoru and Suguru, whose beauty is only matched by their danger. Held in a dark underwater cave, you must navigate fear, fascination, and uncertainty as you struggle to comprehend their motives.
Fem pov.
Gojo and Geto x Reader
Chapter Theme:
Wicked Game - Chris Isaak
Word Count: 1,126
It's hot. That feels like the only thought you can form right now. The sun is beating down on you and it is draining what little energy you have left, and what's worse is it's so humid. You feel like you're borderline struggling to breathe. When your aunt Laura sent you out on this boat to deliver her goods to one of the other islands it didn't cross your mind to check the fuel. So now you are out here in the ocean stranded between Imar and Saken. You would like to think people are coming to get you right now but knowing the people of Imar it will probably be another three hours at the very least. Growing up there was torture for you frankly. Look a little different, talk a little different, and suddenly the whole island is cutting you sideways glances and backwards comments. Being an adult hasn't been much better, but at least you don't have to go to school anymore. Honestly, maybe you do deserve some of the comments. I mean what kind of idiot doesn't bring water on a boat trip. I might dehydrate before anyone can get to me. Ugh, that would be so embarrassing. You thought to yourself.
Before you can loathe about any longer a sound pulls you from your thoughts. A faint splash somewhere to the right of the boat. You decide to ignore it, much too tired to sit up from where you were lying on the floor. Then a few minutes later, you heard it again louder......closer. Maybe it was a fish, but the splash was much to heavy. It could be a dolphin, but they're not often spotted in these areas. Now that I think about it, there isn't a lot of diversity when it comes to the sea life in this strait. As you were pondering this thought you hear it...another sound, but this time its not a splash. It's a voice, a melody to be exact. A beautiful song, one which you had never heard before. You couldn't even comprehend how something could even sound like that. So warm and deep like honey but also soft clear like the ocean breeze. It was brain muddling, without thinking you sit up. Too entranced, your thoughts focused only on finding the source of this enchanting tune. Your eyes scan the waters searching, finally landing on a....man? He was....bewitching. From where the boat was, it looked to be that he had long black hair partially tied up, a strong jaw paired with a gaunt handsome face. His skin was perfectly tanned and his nose was straight and strong, but most of all his eyes. They were sharp and mono-lidded, and had this tilt to them like a cat.....almost like a sire-!
Before you could register what was going on there is a splash from below. You barely have time to look down only catching a flash of white before you are drug head first off of the boat into the blue waters. The next thing you know you are below the surface choking as what feels like the entire ocean fills your throat and lungs. You open my eyes but can only see the bubbles from my thrashing. Your mind was racing, at what point did I lean so far over the edge of the boat, and how did I not realize it!? My eyes and throat were burning, the salt overpowering them. How long have I been under here?Β Β
Just as the dark ring around your vision begins to close in, you are pulled up to the light of the surface. As soon as your head breaks the water you launch into a coughing fit, gasping for air. Two voices are speaking, but it all sounds distant to your waterlogged ears. One sounds disapproving and the other sounds jovial, quite the contrast. "Satoru....was it necessary to keep her under so long" a smooth, deep voice spoke. "Oh come on Suguru, you know how good they smell when they're scared like that" another voice spoke in a joking, carefree tone.
As you continue to cough up water the joking voice spoke again except it was more of a mocking tone this time "Shhhh, darling its okay.. just cough it alllll up.". As your ears popped and your eyes finally focused on the voice, inches away from your face was a man, a different one from last time. Like the other one he was ethereal but he was the polar opposite. His skin was pale and almost sparkled under the sun. He had snow white hair that fell slightly over his eyes. Speaking of his eyes they were, well you had never seen anything like them. They were blue, as blue as the crystal waters that surrounded us. They were....mesmerizing. Like the black haired man, he had a strong jaw and handsome face but his cheeks were not as gaunt. What your eyes were truly focused on however, was the sharp teeth that poked out over his plump bottom lip. What were these things? There's no way they could be human, but could such a creature truly exist outside of tales.
In the midst of your confusion a voice speaks up behind you. It was the disapproving one from before, "Look what you've done Satoru, you've scared the thing so badly she's stopped breathing". To which the white-haired man Satoru replied, "It's not my fault humans are so weak and frail, besides I just think our little catch is in...shock". You look down and you were gripping on to his shoulder tight, your body pressed up against his chest. You gasp and immediately try to jerk away. Satoru lets out an amused huff but his grip doesn't loosen at all, as if your struggling was nothing to him. "No, no, none of that now. The only person who will get tired out is you darling".
You don't listen and continue to struggle and thrash. Until, Satoru's strong arms flip you around to where your back is now pressed against his chest. His arms wrapping around your middle caging you. You are now facing the black-haired man, Suguru you think. He was a probably about ten feet in front of you and his eyes now had glint of disgust in them as he scanned you, but what caught your eye was the tail peaking out of the top of the water.
There's no way they..... just no no there is no way. I can't..no I DON'T believe this. Your mind was racing and your breathing quickened. You couldn't comprehend... the tails.... the sharp teeth, it was far to much. Your vision began to darkened and everything sounded distant. The last thing you see before it goes dark is Suguru's cold, calculating eyes staring at you.
Chapter 2
Note:
Hi all, this is my first time really writing a fic so sorry if its a bit rough. I hope you enjoy it though!! There will be more chapter soon.
Long Forgotten Fairytale (Soft Yan Shamrock x Reader)
I wanted to write this since I saw stupid sexy Shamrock. This will be softer than you'd expect - Shamrock's not going to be too mean in this one.
This one is dedicated to following your dreams (starting new series) and never letting the haters (other WIPs) get you down (feeling immense guilt about taking a long time to update other fics due to getting sidetracked by various DILFS)
TW: canon typical violence, slavery. First chapter Sham and reader are literal children. There will be NSFW elements later on when they are older.
Shamrock eyed the new slave Father bought for his usage with an upturned lip. Father had brought him a useless girl when heβd asked for another boy. It was a pitiful looking thing too, nothing like the robust slaves heβd been given in the past. Its face was turned towards the floor, as was fitting someone of its position, the chain attached to its collar ending in a handle Father held.Β
βFather, take this thing away,β Shamrock whined, giving it a harsh kick to the shins with his steel toed boot. For its part, the slave made no movement even when he repeated the action into its other leg, the only sound emanating from it was the clinking of the chains attached to its collar.
βNo, Shamrock. Youβve killed all your previous slaves, the number is now in the twenties. It is bothersome to continuously buy new ones and have them trained only for you to kill them in a day. Perhaps since this isnβt a boy you wonβt kill it on the first day,β Father reprimanded with a bored tone. Shamrock scowled, he hated being told no. He was a Celestial Dragon - a god - he should be able to have anything he wanted! And he wanted a boy slave so they could fight to the death. Shamrock was twelve and he felt that heβd been ready to kill men for years but Father only allowed him to fight other boys, saying his skills needed honing before Shamrock could fight men.
βBut Father -β Shamrock started to complain, his complaint loose on his tongue. Father backhanded him across the face, sending Shamrock flying into the opposing wall. Shamrock stood back up, rubbing his cheek as the rubble fell off his indoor jacket.
βI wonβt repeat myself, Shamrock. I expect it to be alive at the end of the week,β Father said, tossing Shamrock the handle. Father left the room as Shamrock dropped the handle in disgust, not wanting to be close to the wretched thing. Huffing, Shamrock straightened his jacket and spoke for the first and last time to the new slave.
βLook up,β Shamrock demanded as the slave raised her face but kept her eyes averted to the floor. Shamrock spat on her face, the glob of spit running down her cheek. He made no orders for her to clean it or move.
βIβve no need for anything you might provide to me. I neither want to see nor hear you, otherwise Iβll ignore my fatherβs warning.β With that, Shamrock spun on his heel and left the room.
~
The slave persisted.Β
Shamrock ignored it for the first several weeks, going about his routines as was his wont. He knew better than to kill it or pretend it had met an untimely accident, Father had made that clear. Besides, he did need someone to put on his armor, button his shirts, bring his food, and generally attend to all matters beneath a Celestial Dragon like himself. The slave seemed to know its place well, it didnβt speak and emerged even before Shamrock himself identified that he wanted something. Even if he couldnβt fight it, it did have its uses and Father had been right that keeping the same slave around was better than having to retrain new ones to know his preferences. It was restricted to being in the castle so after a while, Shamrock mostly forgot about it except when it entered his field of vision. It was a fine system, if he did say so himself, the invisible slave always available but never a bother to his senses.
When not in combat training, Shamrock was forced to study under his tutors within his wing of the castle. He knew it was important to be intelligent as well as strong, lest he turn out like his failure of a twin, Shanks. Shamrock listened to the tutors drone on about history, science, languages, mathematics but he always found himself straying in thought, especially during his mathematics lessons. In theory, Shamrock found mathematics interesting but this new tutor was not particularly proficient at explanations. Shamrock usually tried to understand the theories but when Shamrock asked questions the tutor would drone the same phrases over and over, not giving any further information to Shamrockβs queries. It made Shamrock want to go to the arena and fight hardened field slaves when the weather was pleasant.Β
Today was a prime example. The weather outside was delightful and all Shamrock wanted to do was practice his form and moves on live slaves until he perfected his stance. Since Shamrock had shown restraint and not killed his slave, Father had allowed him to finally start fighting hardened slaves in the arena. It was Shamrock's favorite part of the day, being able to push himself to the limit as he fought former gladiators, field slaves, and anyone else his Father bought for him.
As the tutor was speaking about some new math equations or other, Shamrock idly wondered if Shanks had any lessons aboard the Oro Jackson or only received fighting lessons from Gol D. Roger. His dream was to fight Shanks and emerge victorious over his errant brother, though heβd already heard stories of Shanksβs prowess. Shamrock was wondering what training aboard a pirate ship would entail when a ruler brought sharply down on the tops of his hands brought him back to the present. He made no noise of pain though the rap on his knuckles had bothered him.Β
βShamrock, focus. I am leaving you with this work to complete. You have been shirking responsibility lately, not paying attention during our lessons. If I return tomorrow to find it hasnβt been finished, the consequences will be severe. Youβll be whipped, I can assure you,β the tutor scolded as he packed up to leave. Shamrock didnβt care for his mathematics tutor most of all, his clear lack of fighting ability only second to the fact that he often gave Shamrock homework. The threat wasnβt idle either, Father had whipped Shamrock a few times for being irresponsible and not completing his lessons. One day heβd kill Father for such offenses but for now heβd have to do as he was told.
Shamrock looked down at the paper in front of him, the multi-part questions making him want to throw it in the fire. Shamrock began working on the first question with a sigh, thinking through the answers and writing the figures he calculated. His quill stabbed through the paper a few times in an effort to be done with the work quickly but the equations were tedious and took mental effort. As he began the third question of ten, his attention began to waver when a warm breeze wafted through the window and he heard the birds chirping happily. Looking at the sun shining outside the castle walls, Shamrock set the paper down, mentally preparing to complete his homework later that night after sparring practice.Β
The only time the homework graced Shamrockβs mind again was when he entered his study room the following morning and saw the familiar paper on his desk. The tutor was already present, looking over the sheet with a red-inked quill. Seeing no need to avoid the topic, Shamrock sat in his familiar seat silently and waited for the tutor to speak first. Looking at Shamrock over his small spectacles, the tutor set the paper before Shamrock and crossed his arms.Β Blinking a few times Shamrock steeled himself for what he knew would be coming.Β
βQuite the surprise,β his tutor stated in a neutral tone, handing him the paper.
Though his face kept the disinterest facade he always wore as he looked at the paper in front of him, Shamrock was shocked. The first three problems had a few marks indicating heβd gotten something wrong but the rest of the completed homework just had check marks indicating heβd gotten the right answer with only a few corrections to the way the numbers were written.Β
βExcellent job, Shamrock. I wasnβt expecting you to master this lesson so quickly but your work shows wonderful progress. Your handwriting still leaves something to be desired but that is not my domain,β the tutor praised as Shamrock poured over the paper, his eyebrow slightly raised. He tuned out the rest of the lesson from the tutor, his mind working out the puzzle set before him. By the time the tutor was packing up his belongings, Shamrock had a fairly certain idea what had happened. After congratulating him once more, the tutor left the room and the snick of the door handle let Shamrock know he was alone once more.
Well, not quite alone.Β
In the next breath, Shamrock had his hand pulling the hair of the slave back to expose its throat, where he had pressed his drawn sword. It had been standing with its hands in front of it, head bowed, by the window behind him as was its way during his lessons but now he was pressing his blade hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. The slaveβs breath hitched though it remained silent.Β
βWhy,β Shamrock growled out. It blinked a few times as tears fell down its cheeks but said nothing. He supposed he should tell it to speak, otherwise he could kill it and it would remain silent.Β
βTell me,β Shamrock bit out, annoyed he had to repeat speaking to it.
βY-young Master, I -β the slave began, swallowing thickly against the blade at its throat.
βI could kill you now,β Shamrock stated.
βYes, Young Master,β it replied obediently.
βI could make you beg me to kill you,β he continued.
βYes, Young Master.β
βIf I killed you right now, no one would know and no one would care. You wouldnβt even be buried, just fed to the animals in the moat. Your life is meaningless,β Shamrock seethed at you.Β
βYes, Young Master,β you cowered but werenβt able to move between the sword at your throat and the fist pulling your hair. Blood began to trickle down into the neckline of your dress, soaking it in a familiar shade of red.
βSo why did you do it?β Shamrock asked, his eyes boring into your face.Β
βI didnβt want you to be whipped, Young Master,β you said in a whisper. Shamrock said nothing and pressed his blade harder against your throat as he studied you further. He hadnβt ever actually looked at you before, he realized. You werenβt bad looking for a slave, he supposed, heβd seen worse. You tensed as if preparing yourself for your death but Shamrock removed his blade, wiping your disgusting blood on the pants youβd be laundering later. He kept his fist in your hair, glad he was wearing gloves so he didnβt have to touch it directly.
βWhy?β he continued to press harshly, now curious as to your answer.
βI -I β¦it would hurt you,β you replied shakily. Shamrock felt an unfamiliar sensation as he watched you wring your hands. Another thought occurred to Shamrock that had him narrowing his eyes at your innocent act.
βDo you know how to read and write?β he asked, suddenly suspicious. Slaves were taught numbers in order to fulfill their duties but were expressly forbidden from reading and writing. He dropped your hair from his fist but put his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to kill you at the faintest whiff of insubordination among the slaves. It might be fun to sniff out traitors to the family, he thought to himself. Perhaps he could persuade Father to let him interrogate the slaves as practice.
βNo, Young Master,β you replied, back to bowing your head down towards the ground.Β
βThen how did you answer the questions correctly?βΒ
βI am in the presence of your lessons, Young Master. I listen to the tutor as I am awaiting your needs. I await justice for my transgression,β you said, dropping to your knees and bowing your head to the floor like the adults did when they spoke out of turn or tripped on the carpets. Shamrock was getting awfully tired of seeing the top of your head when he wanted to speak to your face.Β
βYouβre forgiven, stand back up,β Shamrock said dismissively. You jerked but did as he said, returning to your puny height. What did he care if you listened to his mathematics lessons daily? You were clearly bright, perhaps you could tutor him better than the stuffy old man heβd been given. As you stood up, Shamrock gave you another once over, noting the blood still seeping from your neck.Β
βChange your clothes to something clean. I donβt want to look at rags covered in blood,β he said before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.
After the mathematics incident, Shamrock was unable to go back to ignoring you as before. You were like a splinter in his finger, invisible to the eye but felt all the same. You still attended lessons with him and had begun offering a succinct explanation of the math tutorβs lessons after the tutor left. Shamrock found your explanations to be much clearer and more precise and thus his understanding of mathematics had grown. Outside of his direct questioning, you remained silent and did whatever he needed as you had before. But Shamrock began to notice you more as you went about your day with him.Β
You were not interesting, exactly. Not really. You were his shadow, someone to mold to any need he saw fit. And yet some of your reactions and statements left him intrigued. For example, one day Shamrock finished eating his afternoon snack in the library and you came to take his tray away. Heβd been given a particularly ripe, sweet peach and eaten half, leaving the other hemisphere to be discarded. As you took the tray away so he could resume reading, you stared curiously at the fruit as you walked towards the slaveβs stations.
βWhatβs wrong with the peach?β Shamrock asked, not looking up from his book about ship designs.Β
βForgive me, Young Master,β you replied. Your response irritated Shamrock because he always had to ask more questions to get past the apologies and requests for justice.
βIβm not chastising you. What is wrong with the peach?β he said, grinding the tip of his knife idly into the table top.
βNothing, Young Master,β you replied meekly.Β
βThen why do you stare at it as if it is the One Piece itself?β he asked, now digging his knife into the priceless table.
βForgi -β
βEnough. Spit it out, then,β Shamrock said, wanting to hear the real answer.
βI was wondering what it tasted like,β you said, turning in his direction while your gaze remained trained on the floor. An errant thought had Shamrock wondering what color eyes you had.
βSlaves don't eat the leftover food?β Shamrock asked as you looked at the plate. He'd never really thought about it before, but that would make sense so they wouldn't have to spend as much money feeding the slaves.
βNo, Young Master. The justice for stealing food from the gods is death,β you said in your small voice.
βBring it to me,β he ordered, taking his knife out of the table. You complied, bringing him back his tray without question. Shamrock took the peach off the plate and sliced into it with his knife, the juice running down the blade. Taking a segment that hadn't touched his own mouth, he held it up in the air.
βCome here,β he commanded. You set the tray down and approached him, your only tell the faint tremor in your hands.
βOpen your mouth,β he continued. Shamrock wasn't sure why he didn't have you eat it off the table or from his knife, but something new within him was directing his actions. You dutifully opened your mouth, awaiting his next instruction. Shamrock knew he could have left you in such a position all day should he want to but he didn't feel like teasing. Instead, he brought the fresh fruit to your mouth, his heavenly fingers close to your lips.
βBite,β he said in a hushed tone. You did as he commanded, biting into the soft fruit held aloft by his fingers as you let out a soft sound of surprise. Juices now ran down his hand as you chewed the novel food. You closed your eyes, as if savoring every moment the fruit touched your tongue.Β
βNow you know,β Shamrock stated, unsure why he was watching your tongue lick your lips for any trace remnants of the peach.
βThank you, Young Master,β you said, bowing to him. Nothing had changed and yet something imperceptible had. Shamrock couldnβt put his finger on it and stared at you, trying to understand what kind of spell youβd put him under.
I wanted to think up of another story idea for Caleb and I couldn't help but be inspired by other lads fic writers doing medieval fantasy type ones so yeah! ;)
Right now, the idea is very blurby so who knows it'll prob be shorter or with less parts than my other ones depending on how inspired I feel!
[Part 2]
Nonmc was part of a subset group of princesses that came from various provinces who in turn grew up together by attending etiquette classes, balls, and tea parties at the royal capital. The idea was that by being around the same or similar ages with other girls of royalty, it would invoke friendship and comradery for years to come.
It worked for a time, especially at the delicate stages of childhood and preteen life. Many princesses formed their own little groups or cliques, spending their days creating these strong bonds.
Nonmc happened to be apart of a group that had the adventurous and sociable MC, the impromptu leader for them. Everyone gravitated to her, including nonmc. MC was different than most, preferring to play in the mud or swing a sword even while wearing a frilly dress.
An indirect factor to this friendship with MC was getting to see the knight-in-training Caleb, MC's childhood friend and son of the Knight Captain for her royal family.
All of their friends seemed to flock towards Caleb as he was training to become a guard for MC, almost always trying to catch his attention even when he was on duty. It was clear that many had a crush on the slightly older boy, and nonmc was no different.
Nonmc was more considerably shy than her more boisterous group of friends, her glances of adoration towards Caleb being behind trees or a book during study hours.
As they all grew up, the crushes that the princesses had for Caleb seemed to multiply. A lanky boy who barely fit his armor was now a young man with a bulky physique that proved he was fit for eventually leading alongside his father.
During balls, he was asked time and time again for dances or gifted ribbons meant to court him, yet he refused each time. The only one who ever got such a chance was MC, his best friend at this point.
Like many other young woman, nonmc watched wistfully as her crush seemed happier in MC's presence. Something that's been clear since they were young but many thought could be changed with time.
As years passed, Caleb was sent off with many other knights to fight against the civil wars brewing between provinces far and wide. Everyone was saddened to see him depart, many of which were there on the day he left with the massive brigade. Among them was nonmc, who could only look on from the crowd with worry and hope that he'll return safely.
After three years on the battlefield, it was Caleb's name that stood atop the many victories leading to peace for the provinces. His strategies in battle and steadfast alliances made his once decent title reach that of the rankings for royalty.
Fanfare and praises were a given when he returned with his brigade, a parade held as he rode in on a mighty steed. He wore intricate armor, the silver and gold decorated in scars of battle. A dark fur trimmed cloak covered his broad shoulders, the clinking of chains and medals jostling with each step his horse took.
Many royal families saw his accolades as an opportunity, making them offer up their daughters for marriage. They persuaded him with gold, the finest wine and weapons... Some buying and writing their way into getting his attention.
Nonmc's family was no different, her parents had no shame in trying to bribe Caleb's father or falsify documents to say that his daughters should be first in line for his choice in marriage.
Nonmc's older sisters could see the appeal in having a renowned knight who would elevate their lineage even if they don't particularly like him, but the thing was they knew of nonmc's crush on him from childhood so they convinced their father to have her be chosen.
It seemed like their arranged marriage was to be written. Caleb would be given nonmc's hand in marriage and become a part of their royal family.
Nonmc should have been happy with the outcome, but the way it was done made her... upset. She didn't like how her parents forced him to choose her, neither did she like that her older sisters had her be picked almost out of ridicule.
To make it all worse, she knew Caleb seemed heartbroken over this. Despite how much time has passed, he still looked at MC the same way from afar. Nonmc thought it was a given that he'd rather have chosen her instead.
So, rather than be selfish with this opportunity handed to her on a silver platter, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She took a pouch that had a large sum of gold, a travel pack, and a suitcase of some belongings, before bribing a few maids and a guard to help with her plan.
On one early morning, where she should have been woken up hours later for breakfast and a schedule full of wedding preparations, she instead chose to run away from home. She left a letter on her desk saying she was leaving for good and to not find her, hoping that it would be enough to keep them from sending a search party.
After walking through some sunlit forests, she found an older couple on the road with a traveling wagon filled with goods. She decided to pay them some gold so she could hitch a ride in the back, letting them dictate the direction she'll head off in.
As the wagon rocked and jostled her sitting body amongst crates of potatoes and other vegetables, she could only think that she was doing the right thing by acting as adventurous as she believed MC would be.
Nonmc wouldn't have to worry about strenuous politics or forcing Caleb into marriage, it'll be like a fresh start! Maybe she'll go live out in the countryside where no one knew her, even sell flowers or trinkets for a living!
And hopefully, Caleb will get to choose MC this time! Or so she believes.
Synopsis~ Satoru Gojo never noticed you. You were just the ugly duckling cousin of the prettiest girl in the neighborhood, maybe even the entire city. But the Gojo that returns from war is different. Eyes to bright, smile too tight. This Gojo finds you fascinating.
Tropes~ One Sided Love, she fell first, he fell harder. Forced relationship?
Tw/Cw~ WW2, mentions of war, dark themes. Sexisim (not from Gojo)
Author's Note~ I just realized how writing a Japanese character during WW2 may be perceived. I do not intend to minimize or change history. My great grandfather died because injuries he got fighting in the pacific. Gojo plays the part of a Japanese American soldier, which did exists though they are often looked over. I would never write anything supporting the Japanese empire, Gojo will be fighting for the allies.
Divider by @/saradika-graphics
Some people are born with everything. Brains, looks, money. You were one of the poor souls who hadnβt been born with any of those. But you did have family. An aunt who hosted socials and whose lipstick was never smudged. An uncle who spent his mornings at the bank and his weekends at the country club golfing with his bosses. A cousin who was the prettiest girl in the whole neighborhood, maybe even the city. Mable was the type of pretty that made men stop and stare from across the street. She was popular too; she was in every club and committee back in high school.Β
You leaned against the bannister. At least you had family. You werenβt entirely sure what you were going to do now that you were out of high school. You had always figured you would be married by now or at least have a beaux and a prospect of marriage and security.Β You were pretty sure your aunt and uncle didnβt know what to do with you either. You could find a job, but you wouldnβt earn enough to support yourself. Maybe I can meet someone at a job. You could imagine him, tall with light hair and blue eyes. He should have blue eyes. He would be a regular at the soda shop you worked at (because of course you would work at a soda shop!) He would have an un-godly amount of sugar, and you would shake your head, while he grinned at you over the counter. Eventually heβd take you out, and treat you like a lady. Then youβd marry him and live in a nice house, not too big like your auntβs, or so old where you could feel the ghosts watching you.Β
A car pulled in, you could hear it from the rumble of the motor. You straightened up and stood as quick as you could. You rushed up the stairs. You could hear your aunt calling to Mable, telling her sheβd greet Satoru while Mable freshened up.Β
You made it to your room. Quickly, you slapped yourself across both cheeks to bring out some color. You opened your music box and pulled out the blackberry youβd hidden that morning from breakfast. You let some juice colour your lips, staring at your reflection in the mirror. You knew better. Aunt liked fresh faced girls, and sheβd tell you sheβd never seen Mable doing such a thing. Well, you didnβt have Mableβs looks.
You walked calmly down the stairs, your heart thudding in your chest.Β
Your aunt said your name. βGo help Amelia get the table set.β Amelia was your auntβs maid. She was nice enough, but you had thought that you might get to entertain Satoru with the rest of the family before supper.
βYes maβam,β you said, nodding.Β
βOh, and wash that off your mouth, dear. I didnβt raise no hussy.β
Shame curdles your excitement. You help Amelia silently while she chatters about how her beaux is getting shipped out to the Pacific in a week or two. She didnβt know because his letters were full of marks where the army had blotted out stuff she wasnβt supposed to know. Eventually you join the family at the table. Only your aunt acknowledges you, her eyes darting to your lips to make sure you had done as she said. Your uncle is staring down at his salad, probably thinking about shares and stocks, or whatever bankers think about. Satoru is staring into Mableβs pretty brown eyes.Β
They look good together, brown curls and chocolaty brown eyes, against snow white hair and eyes bluer than blue. They're in love. The realization seeps into your skin like the summer sun. Satoru is going to marry Mable. And youβll be there, Mable will probably ask you to be one of her bridesmaids even though you arenβt that close. Satoru will be wearing his uniform, because all the fellows have signed up by now. Even Satoru, heβd signed up to fly planes, youβd overheard him bragging to some of his followers.Β
The realization follows you the entire evening. But when the night closes and Mable and Satoru are standing at the front door, you remember. You rush upstairs and open the little music box on your nightstand. You pull out the little paper and hold it tight. You went out the back door and around the yard to the front yard. Mableβs already gone back in. You know sheβll be in the sitting room on the telephone telling her best friend about everything that happened that night.Β
Heβs walking to his car when you catch up to him.
βSatoru, wait,β you huff, reaching out,
He turns, brows furrowed. He looks at you for a second like he doesnβt recognize you. Then he smiles. The one people give to a kid they want to go away. Satoru sticks his hands in his pockets, peering down at you.Β
βI know youβre shipping out soon, so I wanted to give you this.β You rush out saying. You extend your hand, the paper clasped between the tips of your fingers.
βWhat is it?β He asks, his hands still in his pockets.Β
βI painted the stars. I know the stars are different out there,β You look up at him. βI wanted to give you a piece of home - I heard you tell that Nanami boy that you want to study physics - so I -β
He cuts you off. βPhysics isnβt astronomy, idiot,β his lips curl and though he doesnβt say anything else, his face practically screams βlook at the idiot kid who doesnβt know anything.β
You feel like an idiot. You should be anywhere but here. You donβt say anything else, the silence just sort of sits in the air.Β
Satoru frowns. βHey, donβt look like that - Iβll take it,β he says. He reaches and grabs the paper, shoving it into his pocket.Β
Your heart soars. He took it! His hands touched something your own hands had made. You beam at him.
βBe safe I - weβll be waiting for you.β
You turn and flee like a child. Your cheeks are hot, from the exhilaration, the humiliation, and maybe even the thrill of being acknowledged.Β
If youβd turned back, you would have even his form illuminated in the street lamps. Watching you, his face unreadable, hands tucked in his pockets. After a minute, he turns and walks to his car, his hands still in his pockets.Β
You lay awake that night, curled up and giddy. For a few hours you felt like the hussy your aunt thought you were. You had promised yourself to never look at Satoru that way again, he was Mableβs fellow - her future husband. Then the next few hours, you giggled to yourself and imagined yourself as the one Satoru would come home to after the war.Β
Contrary to popular belief, Satoru doesnβt marry Mable before he ships out, he doesnβt even propose to her or make her any promises he canβt keep. He kisses and promises her heβll write. You knew that because you overheard her telling her best friend.Β
The years pass, Mable gets even prettier, you get a job. You work at a factory, you wouldn't have been allowed to before the war, but every woman must do her part. Satoru Gojo slips from your mind, and Mableβs she meets a navy officer on medical leave. Before he ships back out they marry. Youβre her bridesmaid of course.Β
Life moves on. When Mable mentions one day offhandedly that the fellow she used to see, Satoru, you remember him? He had been missing and assumed dead, shot down somewhere over the pacific.Β
You set your fork down. You close your eyes and say a little prayer. Memories of him come flooding back, it's been three years though. You have put away the dreams of little girls, but still, no one wants the fairytale prince of their dreams dead. Either eaten by sharks, or dead on impact, or worse a prisoner of war. Youβve heard the rumours, seen the articles about what they do to pows on the pacific front. Heβd be better off dead then in one of those camps.
Please come home, Satoru. Come see our stars again.Β
A man looks up, his hollow face glares up at the stars. Starvation has made him see and hear things before, but he thinks he really did see her. She was eating king cake, grinning at him. βCome on, come home to me.β He stands wincing, the scars in his back have grown infected, and any movement sends pain shooting across his body.Β
Heβll go home. He has to. And when he does, heβll take what should be his by right.Β
love without loyalty is just lust - but which feeling lies where between the king you've sworn to serve and the clown who'll never be able to make you laugh?
pairings: king!Sukuna x siren!Reader x jester!Gojo
content: MDNI, angst and smut and fluff, medieval fantasy AU, forbidden love, heavy pining, piv sex, very unbalanced power dynamics, messy relationships, love letters, fem reader, light choking, face fucking, oral (m! + f! receiving), fingering, unprotected piv sex, secret relationships, medieval court politics
Being the king's pet was not without its perks.
Your position was one of privilege and opulence.
Fine clothes and fancy jewels, like if he dressed you up enough you'd forget your necklace was a leash, the expensive dress draped over you another weight to hold you down and remind you of your place beneath him.
Captivity suited you better than some.
After all, it was something you once accepted with a smile, a trap you'd seen and walked into willingly. Your complaints were few and far between. Safety was better than certain death.
Even if freedom was fleeting, found only in the afternoons you hid away in the library or in a quiet corner of the courtyard between the dirt and the flowers. Most of your nights were reserved for the man most half the kingdom was convinced was a monster.
He didn't care for the company of most concubines. Not anymore.
Didn't indulge in their bodies or their longing glances, didn't bring them back to his bed despite their efforts. Turned his head when their candied lips tried to taste his mouth, peppered his marked and scarred skin with delicate kisses.
But still, it was them who surrounded him instead of you.
Their soft giggles that filled his ear and their manicured hands tracing over his muscled arms. Chirping and chattering as if they were unbothered by their gilded cage, perched by their owner and offering to share their treats with him. Most of them could fly away if they wanted - they had homes, families to return to, but they chose to stay too.
You felt more like a fish. It was fitting, in a funny sort of way. Watching through an invisible wall as the party carried on around you, returning the silent stares cast your way and studying the unfamiliar emotions you found there. Amusement. Jealousy. Pity.
Sukuna's court came with unspoken rules.
Not speaking to you was one of them.
You wouldn't be able to reply anyway. You still had your tongue, your teeth, all the pieces and parts that made you perfectly capable. But the consequences were what you couldn't risk.
Saved for Sukuna, only meant to be heard in the moans and whimpers he pulled out of you once the long parties were over.
Everyone already knew that though. Well, everyone except him.
A flash of white-hair tucked underneath the absurd hat, the flashy outfit and the dark blindfold pulled over his eyes, his voice ringing through and drowning out the surrounding conversations. Girls laughing at whatever left his lips while their companions choked on the roast meat of whatever tonight's slaughter was, utensils scraping loudly against plates and wine spilling on the table he kept bumping into.
A fool.
And your only friend.
You guessed it was easy to understand each other when you both only existed for others' entertainment.
Bumping into tables, pretending to be blind and pausing for dramatic effect while the rest of the drunken idiots clambered and begged him to continue his fantastical story. They bought his act, slipping extra coins into his pockets while you feigned disinterest, glancing back over to where your stoic master was sipping on his own drink, deep in conversation with his right hand, brows furrowed in contemplation.
No one was looking when you walked out.
Your dress dragged against the floor as you slipped out of the entryway, only a few curious members of the staff paying you any mind when you passed them in the hall as you went to retire back to your room. You sort of expected someone to come and collect you - guide you back onto your pedestal for all the prying eyes to see, but the halls were empty, moonlight streaming in from the windows overlooking the sprawling gardens outside.
"The night's not over."
You paused, your pulse picking up, blood rushing to your face as you slowly glanced back over your shoulder. Lips pursed together as your tongue ran over your teeth, instincts you'd barely been able to tame flaring up.
But you shook your head instead.
Gojo was grinning, pearly white canines on display, but not quite as sharp as yours, his meant to tease and nip while yours were meant to trick and bite.
He once requested you think of him as Satoru - but how could you when you couldn't even say it?
"Your absence won't go unnoticed," He muttered, stepping closer anyway. Even with the blindfold on, you felt the way his eyes underneath the dark fabric were studying you, the hunger in how he sized you up.
You shrugged, pointing at him before cocking your head to the side, as if to remind him his would be noticed first.
He reached out, his hand hovering over your waist without actually touching, glancing back to ensure the moment was his alone.
Even so - his fingers were trembling as they touched you, like he was undeserving of your skin through the thin fabric still separating you.
"Being in there without you is torture," Gojo whined, his thumb tracing a long line over your side, all your senses on edge waiting for this too to be stolen from you.
All you could do was nod, swallowing the lump in your throat while you silently shared his sentiment.
"Come back."
Why was it, that you wished he'd asked you come away with him instead?
Returning just meant he'd have to watch you leave with another man eventually anyway.
You guessed you were a fool for still wanting as many sparse seconds as you could get with him too. If only to watch him waltz around and command attention across the room.
He made you hesitate.
His charm was hard to resist. The curve of his pink lips and the longing in his simple touch, how his hands seemed to belong on your waist.
But you knew what was waiting if you got caught.
You pressed a finger against his chest, pushing him back so you wouldn't have to pull away. The heat of his palm lingered, enough you could probably trace the outline where every sturdy finger of his had been.
He slipped a thin letter out from a hidden pocket, his fingers still bearing ink stains as he pressed it into your hand.
"So you'll think of me tonight," He murmured.
You already thought of him every night.
Tucking it in one of your own discreet pockets, you buried it in the bottom so no prying eyes could notice it peeking out of your skirt, hidden away with the rest of your feelings.
"Tomorrow afternoon then?" He was pouting, and if you had a mirror, you suspected you would see yourself doing the same. You slowly nodded, pretending you were still the version of yourself that was impervious to the hint of hurt in the downturned twitch of his mouth.
The small nook of your heart he'd carved out for himself grew bigger every day.
No matter how much you wished it hadn't.
This was the sort of thing that'd only end in tears. Or blood.
It was okay if it was your own, accepting the survival you once scratched and clawed for had only left you with a life barely worth living. A limbo of loneliness and silence previously only broken up by sex and moments you stole for yourself. You'd been wasting away, your soul withering day by day before he'd snuck his way into your thoughts, occupied your space when no one else was around.
He spoke to you like you were a real person, tried to make you slip up and laugh, treated you like you were worth something more than just the circumstances of your birth.
You could only let yourself have him in bite-sized bits, fleeting minutes where you could pretend this bubble wouldn't pop, treasure the few seconds of his touch you were allowed.
So you watched him walk away instead, forcing yourself to be content with the scraps of conversation you had, holding your hand up to wave when he threw a wistful glance over his shoulder.
It was a long walk back to your room.
The tapestries and the furs hanging on the walls felt like they were closing in on you, the quiet thuds of your footsteps on the floor echoing through the empty halls accompanying you as you navigated the long twists and turns back to your isolated chambers.
Sukuna kept you away from everyone else - a room tucked away from other prying eyes on the opposite side of the castle from the other concubines. It was for your safety, you supposed, another measure he took to ensure no one played with his toy and broke it when he wasn't around.
Your jewelry came off first, removing piece by piece of glittery gemstones and setting it aside in the carved wooden box he once gifted you when you were both far younger, a token of affection that'd twisted into something else in recent years. The dress came next, traded in for a tiny slip with nothing underneath.
What was the point when he'd just remove it in seconds?
You had to bend over to dig the letter out, hesitating over opening it. Glancing over your shoulder at the shut door before you hurried over to your vanity to hide it in one of the drawers.
Something to savor later.
Walking over to start a small fire in the hearth, bending over to toss some more dry pieces of wood in before you started your once nightly routine of brewing tea you never got to finish drinking due to a certain someone constantly interrupting.
There was a knock on the door, two heavy thumps! before it was swinging open, heavy footsteps behind you. You didn't turn around, stoking the fire until you felt his hands grab your sides.
"You left," He grunted, slightly irritated. His breath was warm against the nape of your neck while you put the fire poker up.
Shrugging just to felt his displeased sigh against your skin before his grip tightened, his thumbs digging into your hips.
"Don't tell me you were jealous," He wryly mocked, but there was a hint of pride there, as if he liked the idea of you being equally possessive over him. You used to be. It used to eat at you, gnaw at the very essence of your existence to see him surrounded by so many pretty normal girls whose presence he tolerated.
They didn't need to use their voice. They could just exist as themselves around him. Most of them could maintain their own relationships without fear of being beheaded or worse.
He was right. Just for the wrong reasons.
His favoritism was for a you that wasn't even you. He hadn't fallen for you, but for the sounds you could make.
You shook your head no, a quiet protest, but he only chuckled.
"Speak," He commanded.
"I was tired," You excused your absence, your voice soft and weak after going unused all day long. His body went rigid for a moment behind you, and then there was the familiar shift in the air.
Your dress came off in shreds.
His face was unfaltering, stoic and steady while the fabric fell to the floor, simpler to rip and tear than to take his time to slip it off. You could find something to appreciate in his refusal to act like a doting boyfriend or a sentimental lover.
He wasn't either.
You were just one of his possessions, a spoil to be enjoyed. And he was your protector, a shield to keep you out of the hands of a more unsavory owner.
The sex was your suggestion - something you offered in exchange to solidify your precarious position by his side. To pretend you were just another woman who seduced your way into his chambers.
His teeth scraped against your collarbone, sucking a spot you knew would blossom into a bruise tomorrow, his rough palms traveling over your body as he half-dragged you over to the bed. Sinking into the silk sheets as his limbs tangled with yours, the weight of him pressing you down into the feathered mattress. The robe he changed into before he came was thin, the tie that held it onto his hulking frame easily unraveling under your nimble fingers as you quickly removed it.
You could acknowledge it freely - there were far worse-looking men to spend your nights with. Sukuna was handsome, painfully so. All hard muscles and harsh lines, his strong jaw and features that held your stare and kept your focus glued to him. He knew what to do with it to, how to hold you and fuck you until your limbs went numb, your previous voice lost.
But perhaps some of that was just from time. How much of it you'd spent together, the number of nights you shared only increasing as the years passed. The first year of his rule he hardly visited you, once or twice a month at most back when he still warmed other women's beds, but now it was almost every night, an addiction he'd never admit.
He knew your body better than he knew his own by now. Knew what you liked, what you wanted, how to break you and put you back together again.
It was just your mind that eluded him, your thoughts he wasn't able to capture.
You pressed a trail of your own kisses along his throat, lips ghosting over the tendon as you made your way up to his jaw and over to his mouth. Only stopping once you reached the corner of it, never crossing the line of actually kissing him on the lips.
He hadn't worn any undergarments either, his cock already swollen and hard as it pressed against your entrance, demanding attention as it got caught between your bodies, the leaking tip pressing tantalizingly over your clit as his weight shifted on top of you. You whined, hips lifting off the bed before his hand replaced the spot your necklace had just been, pressing down on your throat to keep you down on the mattress.
"You're always such a greedy little thing," He muttered wryly, his fingers flexing, careful to put just enough pressure to make prevent you from fully speaking.
"You, hah, you're one to talk," You weakly whimpered through broken breaths, as if your body wasn't already responding to him, heat pooling in your stomach at his touch, the fuzziness in your head spreading south.
He rolled his eyes, used to your teasing, probably only allowing since you couldn't exactly taunt anyone else like it.
Sukuna preferred to shut you up a different way, to control what exactly he pulled from you. He let go of your throat to climb on top of you, his heavy weight pressing down on your chest until his cock was pressed to the edge of your lips. Pre-cum collected along the tip, prominent veins pulsing before you even wrapped your mouth around him, sucking softly while he tilted his head back.
The lump in his throat bobbed, his jaw set in a hard line while you let your tongue dance over the sides, pressing it hard and flat and running it over the veins, wrapping your fingers around what you couldn't fit in your mouth to drag a grunt out of him.
There was something oddly comforting in the familiarity of it, in knowing what to give and how to receive from him, a safety net to fall into.
You closed your eyes as his cock bumped into the back of your throat, barely keeping yourself from gagging or biting down when he his thrusts started getting rough, sloppy. One of his hands grabbed your hair, using it to guide your mouth back-and-forth in time with his rough pumps, your face pressed against the fuzz of his happy trail and hair.
Eventually though, your jaw started to ache, your hand letting go of his shaft to smack at the tense muscles of his abs. He hissed out a curse, letting his cock bruise your throat one more time before he pulled out, rubbing saliva and the salty taste of his pre-cum against your lips before he moved back between your thighs, pressing them up against your chest with calloused palms.
You gasped when you felt his rough tongue scrape over your skin, up the inside of your thighs to where slick had already collected, dipping inside and dancing up to wrap his own lips around your clit.
He was messy, but each movement was deliberate, intent on the task at hand. Sucking harshly on the swollen bud, lapping at it while you panted, each breath tinged with a whine when you absentmindedly reached down to grab his hair.
You never tugged, never pulled at his roots, even when he nipped and sunk his canines into your thigh, leaving lovebites that lingered for days.
He painted circles with his tongues, shoving two thick fingers inside, chuckling at how tight you were around him, scissoring and stretching you out to fit him. Your back started arching up before his free hand reached out to grope your breast, squeezing and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You couldn't do anything except fidget, letting go of his hair to claw at the mattress instead.
"K-Kuna, please," You heard yourself beg, and you could feel the tension between you start to strain, pulled too tight.
Someone else would've broken at just the sound of their name from your mouth, shattered at your breathy moans.
But Sukuna's grip on you just tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh while he forced his tongue to work harder, pumping his fingers faster until they were coated in a ring of white, a pretty gloss on his lips by the time he finally came up for air.
"Fuck," He hissed again, getting back over you, hands on either side of your head as he realigned his cock with your entrance. He shoved his way in one burning go, the force pushing you up the bed and drawing a small yelp from you. "Have to feel you."
You nodded, still struggling to catch your breath while you adjusted to his size, feeling too full to breathe, to think.
It was need, an ache that was etched into your bones just as much as his, but he'd never address it as such, would only reduce it down to something physical.
Love couldn't sustain itself. The edges ended up sharpened, honed into something that cut and scar, festered into resentment for some. Obsession for others.
"C'mon, princess, you can take it," He huffed, noting how nonverbal you were tonight, but his encouragement came with a scoff, a seductive rasp to his voice.
He liked to call you that in private - something you couldn't tell was meant to pick you up or put you down.
"Did I say I can't?" You hummed back, but he knocked the air back out of you with his first full thrust, pulling out just to slam back in, pulling your legs around his waist.
Color flushed his face, the pink of his hair faintly mirrored in his cheeks with every plunge.
"Uruame informed me the nobles are demanding an heir," Sukuna grumbled, something that was probably meant to be a secret spilling freely from his tongue just from a few whispers from you.
It was more of a side effect than anything intentional - out of your control as much as it was for him.
"An heir?" You echoed, airy and quiet now.
His eyes fluttered shut, squeezing tight like his restraint was slipping with every syllable. He'd built up more of a tolerance than most men would ever be capable of, sheer willpower or strength to resist. You thought he liked the challenge of it, staying in control when your legs were wrapped around his waist, murmuring soft, sweet things in his ear that would make anyone else's mind melt.
"They expect me to select a wife," He scoffed, burying himself down to the hilt and letting his face fall forward so his nose was pressed against your neck, warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
You could guess why - supposed it had something to do with the pressure a neighboring kingdom had started to apply. A way to cement his legacy before the weak rule of its elderly king ended and the crown passed down to his unmarried son. According to the rumors, he was almost as cold-hearted as the man currently plowing you into the mattress.
He made it hard to calculate exactly how this news would affect you when he was grinding his swollen tip so meanly into your cervix like you'd been the one to ask it of him.
It was his duty to have an heir just as much as it was yours to practice making one with him. But you knew he was not the sort of man who could be forced to bring a child into this world by a few words or threats. It would have to be something he chose, he wanted.
At least, you wouldn't have to actually be the one to do it.
He would have to select someone with a proper pedigree, probably with a beautiful face and an even better education. You didn't exactly qualify for queen.
There would be in-fighting and men trying to sell their daughters, a whole new slew of bribes and seduction once people knew what position was up for grabs.
It would be a bloodbath.
Would he dispose of the other concubines after he had his bride? Sell you off too?
Sukuna flicked your forehead.
"Say it," He grunted, beads of sweat starting to plaster his hair down to his face, your fingers reaching up to brush them back.
"Will you?" You mumbled, your lips staying parted even after you spoke, heels digging into his muscled back as he plunged deeper with each long thrust. "Marry, I mean? Have a child?"
The tender squeak of your voice had him groaning your name, huffing as his hips smacked roughly into your skin, one of his hands wrapping around the back of your neck to press your body closer to his.
"Yes."
His answer echoed in your head long after he finished filling you, cum staining your sheets and thighs as he fell asleep on your chest. Tufts of pink hair tickled your nose, soft snores pressed into your skin before he finally rolled over in his sleep.
You silently crept out of bed, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest as you tended to the dwindling fire. There was a chill to the air, your nose scrunching up as you bent over to slip on his discarded robe.
Sukuna was a heavy sleeper, despite how often he tossed and turned, drifting in and out of nightmares you supposed, fueled by stress or some kind of trauma you knew he'd never talk about.
Still, you were quiet as you tugged open the drawer to your vanity, slipping out the letter and grabbing a book you'd left out before you perched on the soft loveseat facing the bed, just to create an easy cover story in case he woke.
You opened the folded parchment and hid it in the book as you stared at the familiar handwriting, the swooping swirls and messy letters clustered too close together, little doodles littering the page.
Most jesters could hardly read - let alone write. You'd only learned after lengthy sessions from Sukuna when he first brought you back here. Though, that was before he'd worn the crown, back when he was still a prince and you were a prize he hadn't quite won.
Gojo, you guessed, was an oddity in more ways than one.
You traced over the ink on the page, wondering if he was asleep already, who he was entertaining and where.
His words brought no solace, didn't fill the void, no, his pretty words and promises that he was dreaming of you, dreaming of being the one to pull you out of parties and sweep you somewhere safe, all of his confessions of a future he imagined where he got to hear you laugh, it only created a chasm inside you.
Sukuna would find a wife. Was it so hard to conceive someday Gojo would too? When the most you'd be able to share was lingering touches and longing stares?
They would both tire of you - a toy they would eventually outgrow.
You folded the paper back up, shutting it inside the book right as Sukuna started to stir. You blinked back surprise, setting the book back down on the vanity before hurrying back over right as his eyes started to slowly blink open.
"Come back to bed," He croaked, one of his oversized hands tapping the mattress as you crawled back on, knees sinking into the silky sheets.
He made a small sound of approval when he noticed you in his robe, like perhaps it satisfied his possessive streak before he was pulling you back underneath him to use as a pillow.
Your dreams were filled of another life too, of another man than the one who occupied your bed, heavy limbs sprawled out over your own.
Sukuna was gone by sunrise. And despite his last goodbye, you still hadn't seen Gojo by sunset.
The next few days passed by in a blur while they were both too busy for you, time slipping through your fingers, while you wondered around the abandoned nooks and crannies of the castle. Returning to the few places you knew Gojo would leave scraps of letters and notes, collecting them and hiding them away in books and at the bottom of drawers.
Burning them would be for the best.
Committing them to memory and throwing the parchment in the flickers of flames until there was just ash left. But you could never bring yourself to, not when it was the only pieces of him you had to cling to, the only possessions you had that were truly yours.
Sukuna's nightly visits cut down to once every few days while he made plans to announce his search for his bride at another banquet, groaning about it to you only when he had your knees pressed to your chest, pounding into you like a personal stress relief toy while you nodded and murmured soft hums of understanding.
Sometimes your thoughts drifted though, as the days ticked into two weeks without seeing Gojo, imagining it was him over you, his soft hands holding you down and his sweet words whispered into your ear.
His kisses would be tender, each touch worshipping.
Would he-
"Found you."
A sturdy finger hooked over your book, pulling it away from your face. Your frown was only met by a grin, a full set of teeth on display as Gojo joined you in your hidden nook in an unused corner of Sukuna's sprawling library. An expensive pen was half-concealed in his other hand, something he probably stole from a distracted lunch guest.
You held out your hand for him to drop it in, taking your book back and leaning over to scribble a small note in the margins.
Miss me?
"You know I did," He murmured, sliding into the seat next to you.
The smile curling up on your lips was impossible to suppress. He scooted his chair closer, barely maintaining a distance that could be considered polite.
Although, he was asking for a punishment either way by simply being in your presence, indulging in your soft expressions and speaking to you like a lover rather than a friend.
"I can't stay long," He hummed, leaning back and spreading his legs back in the chair.
He was dressed up in his full court attire, reaching his hands back to fix where the blindfold was tied and readjusting his hat. Sometimes though, you'd catch him in something more casual, a loose tunic where you'd catch a peek of his carved collarbones and sculpted chest, when he'd let his hair hang loose over the blindfold he insisted on wearing. You preferred that. Preferred to pretend there was some degree of normalcy to your relationship.
You wrote another note underneath your previous one, a simple question.
Please?
You didn't want him to leave again. You already missed him and he wasn't even gone.
He read your note, his easy smile faltering for a second before he reached over to ruffle your hair.
"You really missed me, huh?" He commented in a low voice. "The banquet's supposed to start soon. Care for an escort?"
Your own smile disappeared. As if you could actually show up anywhere with him together.
Scribbling down a short no before you noticed his furrowed brow, adding a not going before he reluctantly nodded.
"And why not?" He pouted, his fingertips grazing over your wrist, dancing over it and daring to inch closer to your fingers as if he might hold your hand.
You ended up just writing you weren't exactly invited, but really, it was just something you knew Sukuna overlooked, a fact you were taking advantage of.
The last place you wanted to be was where he was announcing he would be marrying.
Rather, you wanted the rumors of your absence to convince everyone you weren't in the running from the start, to avoid the eyes and attention of those who were.
"How am I supposed to make it through without you?" He whined softly, teasing just to make you smile again.
Gojo reached over with his free hand to brush your hair out of your face when you wrote something else at the bottom of the page.
Come find me later.
You hadn't expected it would be so soon.
Or how disheveled his appearance would be when he did, caught off-guard with a book tucked under your arm as you left the library a few hours later.
For a jester, he did not seem like he was in the mood for any jokes.
Pale-faced, the edges of his blindfold shoved up and stuck to his forehead with sweat as his hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you so his body concealed yours in a cramped corner out of sight.
"An heir? Did you know?" Panic tinged his voice, lilting up as he glanced back over his broad shoulder.
You reluctantly nodded when his attention returned to you.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, his expression pained, all the muscles pulled taut and tense. "All of this shit, it's just for show. Who do you think he's going to choose?"
You almost flinched at the curse leaving his mouth, the first one you ever heard him say.
How could you answer him when you couldn't speak? What were you supposed to write? That Sukuna had confessed his plans during sex, how he'd murmured into your skin while he had you pinned to the mattress?
He was the one thing you never talked about, not in notes or letters, despite the weight of him burdening every conversation, every second you spent together.
You looked down at your feet, working on how to communicate to him that Sukuna wouldn't choose you, that you'd probably be pushed to the side until his new wife was selected.
In the end you just pointed to yourself and shook your head, glancing back up at him to find only frustration in his face, his furrowed brow and harsh frown.
"He's going to take you as his wife," He warned. His voice was hoarse, raw. There was anger there, not simmering, but boiling under the surface, ready to spill over and scald anything he touched.
Gojo truly believed it.
You wished you could reassure him with words, wished you could explain it to him that while if Sukuna favored you, he was a stoic man with a hardened heart, the sort that whose decisions would never be swayed by feelings even if he had them. There were a million reasons not to choose you, and not a single one for it.
All you could really do was shake your head again, choking down the lump in your throat when you met his eyes. You'd never seen him with his blindfold pulled up, never looked into his eyes. They were a breathtaking blue, intense and bright, the sort of color the sky wished it could be, something you'd only ever read about in history books, or the distinct descriptions you could still recall from the few visitors you'd overhead speaking from other kingdoms.
"He'd be stupid not to," He muttered, more to himself than you. But it was hard to focus on the syllables forced from his lips when that stare was still burning through you, wild and uncontained.
You felt ill, an uncomfortable churning in your stomach setting in as you started to realize your Satoru might not be exactly who you thought he was.
"Do you want him to?" He pressed further, and his body was pressed fully against yours now, close enough you could smell his cologne, see and feel the way his chest heaved with every breath he sucked in. "You want to spend your life on parade in front of these fools? Have his heirs?"
Tears pricked at your lashes, ones you couldn't explain as you opened your mouth on instinct. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you couldn't. You could see the disappointment flashing across his face when you forced your lips to seal again, shaking your head for the third time to tell him that wasn't what you wanted.
None of this was.
You didn't think he was correct, but even if he was, it wasn't a fate you would ever choose for yourself.
Ruling over a bunch of people who couldn't stand you? Permanently put on a pedestal, forced to follow someone else's commands until you were surely discarded.
He let go of your wrist, but you'd forgotten he'd even been holding it, stuck staring at his face and those frustratingly magnetic blue eyes, but then his hand was cupping your cheek, dragging his thumb over your cheekbone as if it might be the last chance he got to touch you.
Your lips parted one more time, and you weren't even sure what you'd say - what sort of weak plea would come out or what changes to your fate it might bring, but he cut you off.
His kiss was desperate.
Starving for every second his mouth was on yours, sucking on your bottom lip and tethering his fingers into your hair. The force of it stunned you, the need, the craving you couldn't deny or discard when his tongue slipped inside and traced your teeth.
Trying to impart his love in every earnest lap, exploring your mouth in case he wouldn't get to again.
He had to force himself to to pull away, biting down hard enough in his own pretty pink lips to stain them with blood, canines tugging down as he threw another frustrated glance back out into the hall to make sure no one was approaching while you caught your breath.
There was an empty ache in your chest, a burning throb his absence brought, your fingers trembling as you reached up to wipe the red away from his mouth.
You weren't sure you'd be able to live without another kiss like that. Weren't sure you wanted to if he wasn't the one kissing you.
He turned back to face you, grabbing your blood-stained fingers and pressing a second kiss to your knuckles.
"Run away with me."
comment if you wanna be tagged in part two <3
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Part 1 , Part 2 - Part 3 - FOUR- Part 5...
[Main]
Series Introduction: It is a tradition in their country to only call men by their first name if you fancy him, or youβre a family member.Β But what would she do if she fancy someone without even knowing who he is? Being a woman of noble family, would she be able to capture his heart before she was arranged to marry someone else?
Word Count: 20.4k
Heyaaa, itβs your fav engineer again! Wowzer, itβs been a while. Soβ¦ where do I start? Okay, first and foremost, I really really am sorry for disappearing for soooo long, darlings. Engineering became very serious but I successfully won all the battles this semester. Engineering at the countryβs top university is an insane roller coaster but itβs fun and very worth every second! Damn, I'm so grateful to be here, and thank you for all your support during my journey. Second, my band just won two championships in battle of the bands yay! TWICE IN A ROW, JUST THIS YEAR (Yes, Iβve been in the studio a lot if it isnβt the uni library) also, we've been on gigs a lot. It feels nice to reconnect with my soulmate-hobby. Was that surprising? I hope not. Third, tumblr got tagged as a gambling site in my country when I was about to update back when I had a pinch of free time and it was banned for so long lol, I also missed having bedtime stories with my fellow writers. I hope this chapter compensates for my absence! I will be updating more since summer break is here, this series will surely be done soon. I have read all your private messages w/ me btw! I can't respond to all of them since there's quite a lot! I do appreciate all your messages, greetings, requests, and thank you so much for waiting, enjoy!
also, don't be afraid to reach out if u want to be on the taglist!! I also post on ao3 but I always forget to update lol again, I hope you enjoy!
4th Year; Y/N Morzse, Age: 21 Soldier, Age: 25
Β Β Β Β Β The Morzse Family held a formal funeral for the young Victor, the young man theyβve adopted as their child and sibling, supposed to live in their manor by the time he was strong enough to be discharged from the hospital. Salvatore, who just turned seven, hasnβt stopped crying since the day theyβve heard about the news. How would you even explain the concept of life to a young man? Mostly when it concerns his older brother? He may one day outlive the memories but the sting inside would not differ ever.
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N Morzse on the other sideβ¦Β
Β Β Β Β Β On the day of his burial, she stood by the ground, six feet deep dug in front of her, shoveled down to give young Victor an embrace. Her face showed no emotion but a plain blank empty canvas, as if itβs been painted so many times, and erased as much. At this point, she doesnβt know what to feel anymore, nor to express that manner. She just stood there in her black long dress, her gloved hands on her side. For the first time in her life, she looked so lifeless, so colourless, so emotionless.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Thatβs my brother young Victor,Β
Β Β Β Β Β Heβs just a boy.
Β Β Β Β Β Mrs. Morzse walked towards her, also wearing a long black dress, placing her gloved hand on Y/Nβs back to caress it. βMy darling, I know itβs not alright, and time flies. Young Victor will remain with us and he wonβt ever leave.β She said, trying to comfort her daughter, with Salvatoreβs crying voices behind them as he tugged onto their fatherβs coat. βYouβve taken care of him for so long, you did so well. Young Victor will forever carry you with him as well. Everyoneβs so proud of you.β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course, three years with the young boy may sound like a long time, but it is one of the shortest lives sheβs ever witnessed. βHeβs just a boy.β Y/N responded with her grieving voice, with her mother patting her at the back. βHeβs supposed to grow. Heβs supposed to wear his uniform to school, finish his education. Heβs just a boy.β
Β Β Β Β Β βIndeed, my darling.β Her mother hugged her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β In the next second, Mr. Morzse tapped his wife on the shoulder gently, leaning a little to whisper something in her ear. βDarling, the military is here and uhhβ¦ Ahem, the Colonel.β He said, making Mrs. Morzseβs eyes wide. βTheyβre paying their visit to deliver their sincere condolences.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat? The colonel?β Mrs. Morzse whispered in shock. βMy, this is such an unbearable surprise. I-Uhhβ¦β She then eyed Y/N before looking back to her husband. βAhem, Y/N wouldnβt take it lightlyβ she wouldnβt be able to face that man right now, after everything. Everything is too sudden. Ask him not to approach her, if you may, for Y/Nβs well-being. I will have Salvatore in my care for a while, darling.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N did not seem to hear that, her entire mind is focused on being blank. Mr. Morzse nodded on his wifeβs request, walking towards the Colonel right away to inform him about such. Mrs. Morzse has already sat down, holding her youngest son whoβs still crying out loud. Lots of people as well are standing around, all with their black attires to pay respects to the loss of the Morzse family.Β
Β Β Β Β Β However, it seems like money is not always on the lead of authority, nor age and manner. Mr. Morzseβs concerned face said it all, the colonel did not agree with his request. βBut it is for my daughterβs well-being.β He repeated. βYou have as well affected her mental well-being, and she wouldnβt be able to process things all at once as of the moment. So if you may, please colonel, do not interact with her.β
Β Β Β Β Β Calebβs usual poker face looked at the man straight to the soul, before eyeing the back of the woman from the distance, still silently grieving. βYour daughter would respectfully need more than solitude, Mr. Morzse. I believe she has been looking for me for a while now, that might help ease her emotional well-being.β Caleb responded, taking his hat off to respect the older man.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Mr. Morzse made a confused face. βYou think my daughter would feel better seeing you? Is that how you see her?β He asked, slightly showing dominance behind his mild anger. Caleb on the other side did not feel any intimidation, he just stood in front of him. βYou think my daughter is a man-centered woman? Respectfully, you are not my daughterβs lover, nor are you connected in any way.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb paused for a moment. βNot yet.β He said, dropping the heaviest response he has ever said in return.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Mr. Morzse half-chuckled in disbelief. βYou are not trying to do anything with my impression on you right now, colonel. My daughter has eyes on you.β He said in a low tone. βEither way, youβve caused something. Stating something that shows your relevance is half-way egoistic.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb, still with the same face, stared at him. βPardon me then, Mr. Morzse.β He said with confidence. βBut this matter should be settled between the two of us. I respectfully have to initiate as the one who did the wrong. Any outcome of this action of mine will be under my responsibility, I do assure you.β He said before bowing a little. βMay I have your permission for me to speak to your daughter?... I will approach your daughter regardless.β
Β Β Β Β Β Mr. Morzse half-chuckled once again before sighing heavily. βYouβ¦β He spoke with a calm, assuring tone. βYou are just like your father.β He said before tapping his shoulder.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βYou know my father, Mr. Morzse?β Caleb asked with a curious look on his face.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βMore than you do.β He said, βOff you go.β
Β Β Β Β Β The Colonel was confused about that new knowledge of his but shrugged it off temporarily. He just walked towards their eldest daughter, throwing a flower down the shoveled hole and taking off his cap to pay his respects. He looked on his side, Y/N was still standing like nothing was happening around her, not even his presence woke her up. He cleared his throat, βMy condolencesβ¦ Miss Morzse.β He spoke, shocking the lady next to him.Β
Β Β Β Β Β For the first time since the funeral was held, she looked at another person with an expression on her face. Her eyes looked confused as she looked at him, her lips slightly parted, not sure what to feel. βY-Youβ¦!β She said, pointing at him. βWhat are you doing here?β She whispered.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Mrs. Morzse looked at them with wide eyes before looking at her husband. Mr. Morzse then assured her right away, making her sit back down calmly.Β
Β Β Β Β Β He sighs. βIβve come to pay my respects and deliver my sincere condolences to your family, and the military is here as well.β He responded, and Y/N looked away right away, not responding after. βYouβ¦ You did well on putting colours on this young manβs life.β He complimented her, and she hummed in return.Β
Β Β Β Β Β And then there was silence.Β
Β Β Β Β Β The two of them just stood there, about a foot of distance in between them, both looking down the hole on the ground. No one seems to be interested in continuing the conversationβ¦ at least they donβt know how. Y/N doesnβt feel like talking, and Caleb doesnβt know what to say. Safe to say that itβs such an awkward and wrong timing for them to meet for the first time after a year. Well, Mr. Morzse already warned him but he insisted on this interaction so he should be responsible.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAhem. Iβve spoken to your father, it seems like he isnβt the kind of man thatβs easy to convince.β He spoke out of nowhere, trying to initiate a conversation. βI might be just a different person then.β
Β Β Β Β Β βMy father just doesnβt like you.β She said, immediately sending a weight in his stomach.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWell, it seems like he knowsββ
Β Β Β Β Β βWhere have you been?β She asked out of nowhere with a tone he doesnβt recognize through her gentle voice. She sounded a littleβ¦ different. Maybe itβs the emotions of the moment? βI looked for you for a year. Where have you been?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β He paused for a second before speaking, βI lived in the military camp, like how colonels would.β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut where even is that?β She asked in disbelief. βYour family doesnβt know where you are, I donβt know where you are, everyoneβ no one knows where you are.β
Β Β Β Β Β For a moment, she sounded like a soldierβs wife, waiting for him to return as a whole. βAm I supposed to tell anyone?β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course heβd say that, even to her grieving soul, her love for him is still unrequited. After all, who is she to say those things even? He doesnβt think blood is thicker than anything, so why would a random woman even matter? But still, she shot her shot. βI attended all the weddingsβ¦ the colonel is always not there.β
Β Β Β Β Β βIβ¦β He paused, βLetβs continue this conversation some other time. Are you available by Sunday next week?β Her teary eyes went wide upon hearing that.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhaββ She swallowed her words, clearing her throat after. βYes, I am.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWell then. Iβll pick you up at four.β
Β Β Β Β Β Unbelievableβ just what does he have under his sleeves? What is that set date and time about? Well, he mentioned something about their conversation, but is it that relevant for them to go somewhere alone and planned for the first time? She doubts it, but she wonders. And four? As in four in the afternoon? That sounds like a dinner date to her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Well, she wasnβt able to sleep for days because of that. Her mind is already stuck up with the idea of young Victorβs passing, along with her heavy heartβ but it seems like this man just added another thing and she doesnβt know what to feel. For nights, she laid on her bed while staring at the details of her ceiling, thinking about many things.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Her friend and mentor, Dr. Zayne has been monitoring her a lot lately because of that. As a surgeon who has lost so many patients before, he can say that itβs always difficult every timeβ but a first time is always the hardest pill to swallow. Mostly when Y/N has stood as young Victorβs older sister, and theyβve made plans for them to be family.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N on the other side is aware of her well-being. She is emotionally dragged most of the time since then, but she knows how to face things like normalβ¦ an eldest childβs thing, if itβs what they call it; always prioritizing everything over their well-being. Good thing Dr. Zayne is there for her, looking after her despite being outside the premises of their field.
Β Β Β Β Β The day arrived and she has never been so nervous. She wore her simplest yet elegant clothing, since sheβs not even sure where theyβre going. He just said heβd pick her up and thatβs it. Well, at least itβs better than a man who doesnβt plan at all.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βIs it really true, dear darling? The colonel spoke to us a week ago, telling us that he is picking you up tonight.β Her mother asked her and she hummed in response. Wow, he even spoke to her parents like a man whoβs courting a maiden. How bold of him to do that. βWhaβ could it be? That youβre really fated to be together? Are you going to send your letters to him as well?β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N sighed, shaking her head. βMother, it isnβt like that, for sure. The colonel wouldnβt be that type of man. And I wouldnβt send anything to him.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh! Why not? Youβve written those for a year, for him to readββ Mrs. Morzse was then interrupted by a sudden knock on their front door, with a housekeeper opening it right after. βAh, it must be your eveningβs lover.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N sighs. βMother, donβt say such unpleasant things.β
Β Β Β Β Β The housekeeperβs voice can be heard from a distance, speaking to the person by the door. Y/N heard a familiar voice respond so she walked towards them right away. βI do appreciate your hospitality, but itβs alright, I do not have to come in. I am only here to pick up Miss Morzse.β Calebβs voice echoed through the front hall.Β
Β Β Β Β Β When Y/N arrived, her breathing almost stopped upon laying her eyes on the breathtaking man by the door, politely standing and bowing a little to one of their helpers. He isnβt looking too formal at the moment, he is wearing a faded green plaid shirt over a tucked beige shirt in his brown pants. It is also the first time she has seen his body outside a coat, seeing a belt in her perspective. Oh how perfect can this man be?Β
Β Β Β Β Β For a split second, she forgot about that one year of loneliness, getting warped in right away with the sight sheβs seen.Β
Β Β Β Β Β And then their eyes met, both feeling a sudden electric shock down their spine. The eye contact they shared felt like a spark only youngsters at that moment can comprehend. It looks like they are a pair of young couples, going on a date for the first time traditionally. Well, it also is their first time going outside without her initiation so it makes complete sense.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N smiled, nodding her head a little, and Caleb did the same. βHello, colonel.β Y/N said when she walked towards him, thanking the helper on the side. Mrs. Morzse stood in the distance, watching her daughter with a hint of smile on her lips. Just like she and her husband, they started in something like this.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb paid his respect to her parents before looking at her, βShall we?β And she was led into a carriage, with him not saying anything. When theyβre already seated and moving, she had her hands on her purse on the top of her lap, looking anywhere but the man in front of her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β He on the other side just sat confidently, both eyes on her awkward figure. βHow have you been?β He spoke, shocking her a little. She then hummed in question, asking him to clarify that question. βThe previous year, how have you been? Achievements? Goals? New directions?β
Β Β Β Β Β Oh, that made her wonder now about whatever is in that military camp that made him have a little care for her little things. βNot much, just the usual. Hospital, arts, and life events like birthday parties.β She responded so casually, not trying to actually diss him with sarcasm about him, missing two of her birthdays.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh? Is that all?β He responded, as if heβs doubting her. She nodded with a hum in response, immediately making something shift in his eyes. βI see, it seems like you missed somethingβ¦ I think I heard the business of Sylvestre Dieu has made a partnership with you and your little artistic constitutionβ¦?β
Β Β Β Β Β What? How is he updated with her life, and she didnβt even know where he was. βAh, yes. He sponsored two of my exhibits, and I featured his newly released perfume boutique.β She explained with an intention to deliver such big news. βI also thought itβs a bright idea for us to work together. The hospital managed by my parents also partnered with his parents in charities, itβs like our families are meant to work with one another.β
Β Β Β Β Β He hummed in response. βWith a family like yours, you still need partnerships with another?β He said, and she canβt comprehend whether it is a compliment or not. βOr maybe it really is their intention to write your fate, hence youβre now naturally bonded with your future husband.β
Β Β Β Β Β Ah, the idea of marriage.Β
Β Β Β Β Β She knows sheβd marry someone else next year, not Caleb, and sheβs already accepted that so she did not feel any sting from that statement of his. Maybe sheβd really end up marrying Sylvestre Dieu, and she doesnβt even have any say about it. She definitely would, since heβs the best option for her arranged marriage. Her family is also in fond of that man, so it is no surprise that heβd be the best option.
Β Β Β Β Β βNews by news, you are with red roses in nice places, smile on your faces while you stand next to one another. Everythingβs just so perfect, a ring is just the only one missing.β He said. She looked away, not knowing what to say, and Caleb did not like the fact that she did not defend herself this time unlike before. She used to defend her love for him, but now it seems like sheβs justβ claiming to be something like just what he said. βAh, you're still on with that made up arranged marriage of yours, arenβt you?β
Β Β Β Β Β She immediately gave him a stern look. βListen, Colonel, if youβre just going to insult me, my affections for you, and my marriage traditions in this carriage, then let me make this clear for you; I am no longer burning anything for you.β She said and paused, making the colonel raise an eyebrow. βI only have one year left before that arranged marriage and I donβt even know whatβs going to be my path. So whether I win your heart or not, thatβs already up to fate. If it humors you so much, then Iβd put an end to it.β
Β Β Β Β Β His eyebrows raised upon hearing her statement, his lips slightly parted due to shock. Just who is this woman in front of him, and why are his usual antics not working? He did not talk for a few seconds before humming with a nod. βAh, at last.β He said, looking out the window upon crossing his arms. βYour head functioned so well.β
Β Β Β Β Β She did not respond, and itβs unusual. She just sat there with her hands on her lap while looking outside the window. Itβs too unusual for him to experience such a difference, she would usually try to raise up her defenses to assure him but no.Β
Β Β Β Β Β But none of them would speak about it. But one of them was confused about it.
Β Β Β Β Β They then arrived at the said place after an hour of silence in the carriage, a restaurant from outside of town, a place sheβs never been to. βEver been here?β He asked and she shook her head no. βWonderful.β He smiled and placed her hand around his arm politely to guide her while walking towards the door, being greeted by the person in frontβ¦ whose eyes widened upon seeing them together.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βIβ Uhhβ¦ Good evening, Sr. Sontero and Miss Morzseββ Her voice stuttered upon speaking, immediately sighing after. βMy apologies, itβs just thatβ I hope you get it.β
Β Β Β Β Β βA year without news concerning our names?β Caleb asked and the lady nodded. Well, their names really are relevant to that extent, even outside their town. How can you live a private life when you are literally the colonel, and the known artist from a noble family? Caleb then looked at Y/Nβs anxious face with a smile. βWell then, we do hope to be seated with our respectful reservations.β
Β Β Β Β Β βC-Certainly, sir!β
Β Β Β Β Β The entrance of theirs led them into an ambiance of luxury, who knew that Caleb is this grand? Wellβ¦ being a colonel is one way to wealth so of course, he can be grand. Heβs a gentleman as ever, letting her take her seat before he does, letting the wineβs scent linger as the waiter pours them each glass. βIs this non-alcoholic?β He asked the waiter who then nodded in response. βThank you.β
Β Β Β Β Β βArenβt you going to ask for an alcoholic one?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β He took a sip, βShouldnβt I be responsible during a date?βΒ Β
Β Β Β Β Β She raised an eyebrow, βDate? You must be out of your mind to say that in front of meββ In a split second, a bouquet of pink peonies and tulips was handed to her by a waitress. Her eyes widened. βPeonies and tulips?!β She asked in disbelief, knowing that most men only give roses. She held it so dearly, looking at them with the deepest thought everβ βHave you been on dates?!β
Β Β Β Β Β Calebβs smile dropped as he placed his wine glass down, βNo. Why would you ask that?β
Β Β Β Β Β βThen how would you know what to give to a woman?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βI just know what to give you.β And as expected, that stunned her. How can this man be so good when it comes to catching her artist little heart through words? And so she just sat there, holding the bouquet of flowers as she stared at him in shock. In just less than ten seconds, it felt like the whole entire year of burden had left her shoulders, and all the anger left her chest. Itβs like sheβs washed out right away due to shock.
Β Β Β Β Β A waiter then arrived to take their orders, and she just took whatever Calebβs having before she spoke again. βWith all due respectβ¦ what is this dinner all about?β She asked, βA dinner, a bouquet of flowers, gentle wordsβ You wouldnβt do all this if it was years ago.β
Β Β Β Β Β He paused, eyes looking at her with confusion. βArenβt we supposed to continue our conversation from last week?β He asked, and she suddenly got hit by the realization. βI suggest weβre merelyβ¦ just catching up.β
Β Β Β Β Β But still, that doesnβt change a thing with my question. He still wouldnβt take her out in public like this if it was back then.
Β Β Β Β Β βOh.β She said, placing the bouquet of flowers down on the table before sitting properly. βSo, where were we?β She paused to think, βAh, about you being nowhere to be found. You attended no weddings last year as well, and I know it becauseβ¦ I went to all of them. Even at your friend Mathildaβs wedding, you did not show up.β
Β Β Β Β Β He hummed, nodding a little. βMorzse,β He spoke in a low tone, close to whispering as he lean on the table lightly. βWhere do you think I was?β
Β Β Β Β Β βThe military camps like everyone said, and you said last time.β
Β Β Β Β Β He looked at her straight in the eye, hesitant but itβs there. βI did not stay in the camp all the time, colonels arenβt required to be that way.β He said, making Y/Nβs brows knot in confusion. βI wasnβt always there, I wasββ
Β Β Β Β Β βWhere?β
Β Β Β Β Β βEverywhere.β He whispered, head tilting a little. That made Y/N sigh a little, closing her eyes in disbelief. Is he being serious right now? How can he joke around? βThis is confidential but I choose to trust you. Iβve been jumping from one country to ours, monitoring things relating to my workfield. I just recently found out about a financial misalignment regarding another, and it is causing political disagreements. As a frontliner, I do keep our countryβs premises safe. Being the colonel means I am politically involved, I handle thousands of men.β
Β Β Β Β Β βYouβre sayingβ¦ there could potentially be a war?β Y/N asked and he nodded. βAre you serious?β
Β Β Β Β Β βI am. But I doubt it, unless I start it. After all, I am the colonel.β He joked, making her roll her eyes. βSo, that is the shortest summary I can giveβ¦ Iβd like to apologize for leaving you unannounced for a year, I hope you understand.β He said, and that made her confused immediately. But before she could ask, he spoke once again. βLearned it the difficult way that itβs the way for you to give up on me, huh. Might as well try another round trip for years.β
Β Β Β Β Β Her face then changed into a shocked one. βW-What?!β She asked in disbelief. βAnd a year did not change your attitude, youβre stillβ whatever that is. Youβre still mocking me. Besides, why are you even apologizing?β
Β Β Β Β Β He chuckled and so she did, before he looked away. And then thereβs silence as if they did not just share a laugh over something stupid.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Her eyes then landed on him once again, analyzing his appearance like she didnβt just spend the whole carriage ride doing so. Heβs still the same, of course, itβs only been a year. The only difference she noticed is the fact that heβs wearing something new now. βI noticed that no womanβs been chasing you this week.β She commented out of nowhere, earning a smirk from him as a response. βWhy is that?β
Β Β Β Β Β βTheyβve all gotten married, the women who used to. Thereβs still new ones, but we both know youβre aware of who I am.β He responded. βBut the rest before, theyβve all gotten marriedβ¦ well, all of them except you.β
Β Β Β Β Β She paused, before looking away, not sure if sheβd be offended or whatever. βI-In a year, Iβd be.β She responded in a low tone, nervous but still stood by her stance. βU-Unless I die or something.β
Β Β Β Β Β He sighed and shook his head. βAh, your arranged marriage.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N immediately knotted her eyebrows, annoyed. βOn a serious note, why do you not take that so seriously? I am not lying to you.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βBecause noble ladies get arranged marriages at the age of eighteen, clearly youβre older than that.β He explained, and well, he isnβt completely wrong. Sheβs supposed to be married when she was eighteen but her parents had a deal with her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βI wasnβt the type of woman to have affections for someone, I think my parents overlooked that. I think they only gave me a chance to develop something on my own.β Y/N said, βIf someoneβs to ask me whoβs my first love, Iβd respond with your nameβ¦ and I met you when I was eighteen. Pretty late for first love, isnβt it?β
Β Β Β Β Β He did not respond, he just looked at her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βI was always told first loves arenβt meant to be the last, unless Iβm lucky.β She chuckled. βThey said itβs meant to break innocent hearts, to deliver lessons for the right one, to introduce us in this field of human natureβ¦ but itβs different in my case. I was not young when I had it. So Iβm sorry,β She apologized, immediately confusing the colonel. βIβm sorry if I was like that to you in the previous years, as it is foreign to me.β
Β Β Β Β Β He looked at her face, trying to analyze beyond her flawless appearance but found none. βYou experienced it the way it should be, genuine and pure.β He said, looking away. βYou shouldnβt apologize for being in love.β He said in a low tone.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat?β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh, wonderful timing.β Said he. Luckily, he was saved by the waiter serving their food. Y/N then just eyed him as she picked up her utensils, something really is up with the colonel and she just canβt seem to put the pieces together.Β
Β Β Β Β Β However, she wouldnβt let such a hot seat slide off his back. She isnβt the same as back then. βHow would you know the way it should be? Have you ever been in love?β She inserted a confident question, enough to make the man feel the awkwardness.
Β Β Β Β Β However, he didnβt look like it. He just smirked, βOnce.β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course, I am literally speaking to an old man. She thought. What a stupid question, Y/N. Of course he had his first, he is literally in mid 20s. βOnce?β
Β Β Β Β Β βNeed I have to repeat myself?β He asked and she immediately rolled her eyes.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N took a bite of her meal, speaking in a low tone. βYour attitude explains why youβre unmarried at twenty-five.β She said, with an intention to insult him.
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd you?β He asked, βYour lack of awareness. Your potential lover could be around but you keep on sticking with someone who clearly isnβt for you.β
Β Β Β Β Β Wow, that stung her a bit, sheβs going to admit that. βWow, then thanks for asking me out.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βI didnβt.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N angrily looked at the bouquet of flowers before looking back at him. He really is still the same man, confusing. He is very conservative yet heβs always keeping her hanging. βI am marrying Sylvestre Dieu in a year, so you better make it last. You can no longer take a married woman out, you know?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β He made a ratherβ offended look, before looking away. He then took a bite off his plate, βI am not interested in anyone, let alone a married woman.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N sighs, thinking about how unbelievable it is to have a proper conversation with this man. βYouβre no different to a priest in love.β She said, earning a look from the man. βChoosing to be married to his passion and love for his field, in religious termsβ but a colonel? You are not bound not to be married, but you choose to be.β
Β Β Β Β Β βGuess you could say that.β He said.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Their silly little date really just went with a conversation and food, the only untypical part was the bouquet of flowers and his little assurance with a hint of compensation for his year of absence. She sat in front of her dressing table, the bouquet on top of it as she brushed her hair, she didn't know what to feel about what just happened that evening.Β
Β Β Β Β Β But for some reason, she was slightly introduced to the world of a soldierβs wifeβ apart from her husband for who knows how long, unsure of his being, and justβ that. She doesnβt know if itβs like that, but she felt lonely despite having no connection at all. She sighed after placing her hairbrush down, walking towards her massive bed, pulling its curtains down to her slumber.Β
Β Β Β Β Β She doesnβt know whether sheβd still pursue that man or whatever. Unlike before, she doesnβt feel the need to, nor can she find the motivation to. She still loves him, of course, but at what cost? It feels like she can see through the blindness she used to have before.
Β Β Β Β Β He is confusing, she doesnβt know whether this man wants to be close to her or not. In fact, that isnβt even a problem, itβs just that she is no longer getting caught up by his emotional antics, or subtle manipulation of her feelings for him. Itβs as if he doesnβt want her, but if she becomes distant, he doesnβt want her to stop either.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Or was it all just in her mind? After all, heβs been avoiding and rejecting her even from the start.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Yeah, indeed. Maybe itβs all just delusions.
Β Β Β Β Β Maybe he really isnβt going to be hers in this lifetime.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βY/N Dieu, huh?β She thought, thinking about the marriage sheβd have in a year. Surely that name would be hers by then, nothing else. Itβs not like Caleb would go after her. Maybe in another lifetime, in the age of floating cars and flying humans, sheβd be able to be in the wind with him. But in this lifetime? Sheβd choose not to ride his horse anymore. βMaybe in another lifetime.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N and Caleb in an image together?
Β Β Β Β Β Maybe, just maybe.
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N received another wedding invitation one morning, and it is no surprise since there are tons of women her age, or even younger, getting married. And who wouldnβt invite the townβs sweetheart Y/N Morzse? Every lady wants to have her on their special day.Β
Β Β Β Β Β And it shouldnβt be surprising, but the letter came fromβ βCelene?!β She gasped in shock, standing up in an instant. She rubbed her eyes and read the invitation once againβ¦ it really is from Celene, Celene Sontero, Calebβs older sister who hated the idea of marriage. A little note behind the invitation is another invitation for a coffee meeting with her.
Β Β Β Β Β Well, that's huge news for her morning.
Β Β Β Β Β She continues to work at the hospital for her mentorship with Dr. Zayne like usual, the only difference is that she is no longer staying until evening because the only reason why she does thatβ is young Victor. Hence, she comes home every three in the afternoon. Dieu sometimes comes around to walk her home just to have some chats with her, whenever heβs free. Although sometimes, he intentionally skips his errands just to be with her during lunch.Β
Β Β Β Β Β For some reason, thereβs still no romantic vision around him that Y/N can see. Theyβre still friends, and he respects that. Heβs such a man of morals that even everyone gets nervous that she has him around all the time.
Β Β Β Β Β She canβt help that a known man is in love with her. And whatβs even more than that is the fact that he is one of her potential marriage candidates next year. Ah, so much progress with their friendship, and so much changes in her life in just a year.Β
Β Β Β Β Β One of those changes concerns the colonel. She also noticed that the colonel has been around a lot since he arrived, not to patrol, but casually justβ she canβt explain, but itβs as if heβs too casual around the places. Itβs as if she doesnβt even have to look for him because heβs just everywhere. However, heβs still in a soldierβs uniform so she doesnβt know whether heβs patrolling or not at all.
Β Β Β Β Β But would you even see this soldier in a uniform doing all the casual things he didn't do before? One time, Y/N was in a boutique shop and what a huge coincidence it was to have him check some suits inside. Well, that is no surprise because he is a formal man so she let that slide.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Another is when she was visiting a theater with her younger brother, she saw him there as well. One time, he was having a coffee at the cafe where sheβs at, reading a newspaper while he sat at the corner alone. Of course, there are numerous women approaching him but everyone knows how that man deals with admirers.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/Nβs going to admit, she didnβt like that at all. Indeed, she has stopped chasing after the man and she just left the decision to fate but still, that doesnβt change the fact that she doesnβt like sharing this man with someone else. Luckily, he is the type not to entertain.
Β Β Β Β Β And of course, their eyes met so many times as well. However, neither of them initiated a conversation, which also shocked the colonel. He wonders, is she mad at him because he left for a year? Or she just practically gave up on him? Little does he know, sheβs no longer expecting something for real.
Β Β Β Β Β It was a warm afternoon when she left the hospital after bidding her goodbyes to Dr. Zayne, she rubbed the side of her arms before walking. She was about to take her usual walks but then a person approached her, a small bouquet of roses being handed to her. βGood afternoon, my lady.β A greeting was delivered to her right ear.
Β Β Β Β Β βOhβ! Good afternoon, Dieu.β She says, accepting the flowers from the smiling man. Looking at the flowers, her smile slightly faded, remembering that one pink bouquet she had dried in her room. For some reason, Dieu never asked her about her favourite things, including the flowers. Donβt get it all wrong, Y/N appreciates all the things he gives her. Although she wonders, how can the colonel win over some stack of efforts by just handing her that bouquet? In fact, he didnβt even hand it at all.Β
Β Β Β Β Β She sighs, that man can really do nothing and still get the trophy for her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βHow have you been? Did you have a good shift in the hospital? Any plans afterwards?" He asked as they walked through the cobblestoned pathway, tons of wooden-wheeled carriages rolling behind them.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βHospitalsβ¦β She paused, thinking about young Victor before speaking again. βItβs still the same; very homely but soul-sucking, but I had a nice shift today.β She smiled, βAs per my plans afterwards, I am planning to visit the cafe to meet Celene. She has arranged an afternoon coffee meeting with me.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh, I see.β He said respectfully. βWhat about tomorrow afternoon, are you free?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N paused to think. βI think I am. Why is it?β
Β Β Β Β Β βIβd like to ask you out for something.β He said with a flattering tone.
Β Β Β Β Β βOh, where are you taking me?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βYouβll see.β He sent her to the cafe where sheβd meet Celene and bid her goodbyes. βIβll pick you up by four thirty at your house.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N smiled, βAlright.β Before heading inside to look for the specific woman. Goodness gracious, she is hoping not to have sudden schedules tomorrow or else, sheβd terribly make that man sad.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Her eyes then landed on the taller woman, sitting at one of the fancy chairs, taking a sip from her coffee. She walked towards her, giving her a clearer sight of the ring on her finger. She held her hand and said, βSo itβs true, you really are about to be married.β She said, making the woman jump a little on her seat.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βChrist, Y/N! At least a warning would be genuine.β Celene said angrily, snatching her hand away from Y/Nβs grasp. βYouβre starting to have the nerve I canβt stand.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βFrom whom did I even learn that aside from you?β She responded, sitting down in front of her. Clearly, their relationship really shows the dynamic of siblings. Looking at the table, she noticed that there are different kinds of desserts, and a specific type of coffee dedicated to her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βThat coffeeβs for you, and feel free to dig in. Worry not, Iβve not poisoned any of those.β She said, taking more sips of her own coffee.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhy, thank you for clarifying that. I wouldβve assumed otherwise.β Y/N held the cup near her face, inhaling the aroma that wakes her up every morning. Taking a sip, she spoke, βSo, when did this entire thing happen? You did not tell me anything about it last month. Clearly a month is too fast for marriage.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Celene snorted. βAh, and your three years are too slow then?β She responded, visibly roasting the young lady in front of her. βWell, you see Morzse, I am not that bad of a thirty year old. Somebody liked me and the rest is history.β Celene said with her usual tone.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWow, youβd really skip the fact that you fell in love with him. You really hate the idea of marriage that much, huh?β Y/N teased, earning a heavy sigh from Celene. βI understand, miss maβam.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh Iβd sew your lips shut if I could. At least the man I want wants to marry me, little one. How are you doing?β Celene said and Y/N made a sour face. βHowever, if youβre wondering, his name is Alexandre Fleurs. I met him at one of the trials, he is quite an amazing speaker, good looking, extremely intelligent, and thatβ I hope you use this as an inspiration to find someone better than Caleb.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N rolled her eyes. βHavenβt you spoken to your brother? I already told him that I am no longer after him and I mean that. You should stop with this nonsense right away.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βHow would I speak to that man if I havenβt even seen him for more than a year?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βHuh? What do you mean?β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh come on, Y/N. Who are you kidding? Heβsβ¦β She paused before giving Y/N a stern look. βHold on a minute now, you young lady.β She said and pointed at her, βDonβt tell me youβve seen him around, let alone spoken to him.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N sighed and shook her head in annoyance. βYouβre telling me he hasnβt spoken to you or anyone in your household?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Celene released a heavy sigh before crossing her arms. βWhat did I even expect from that man?β She said, βWhen did you see him?β
Β Β Β Β Β βAbout weeks ago, we had dinner together. Aside from that, I always see him everywhere. I think he started patrolling again.β Y/N said and Celene dropped her jaw. βWhat?β
Β Β Β Β Β βYouβre the only person he has spoken to aside from his co-workers and some locals, then?β She asked in disappointment, βAnd youβre telling me you are not after him anymore? Oh shove off, Morzse. You two have something at this point. Youβre like a soldierβs wifeβ or maybe you two are already married without us knowing?β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N chuckled right away. βI wouldβve thrown the grandest wedding of all if I'd managed to win that much in life. I am the kind of person to brag if itβs about my love for that man. And oh, he gave me a bouquet of flowers that evening, tulips and peonies in pink.β She smirked, making his older sister gasp.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βYou are kidding. Tulips and peonies in pink? That man doesnβt know anything about flowers, let alone what to give you!β Celene said, and Y/N proudly smirked at her. βYou two really have something, and I am betting on my husband-to-be.β
Β Β Β Β Β βI am not kidding about anything, but I think itβs just a reconciliation gift, you know? The bouquet. Your brother isnβt that romantic.β She said proudly. But to think of it, she felt a hint of change in his words that evening, something that made her feel something but she canβt quite explain. She sighed, βBut of course we arenβt a thing, Celene. I am closer to getting married to Dieu than to actually making progress with your brother.β
Β Β Β Β Β βHe only showed up to you, Morzse. He doesnβt do that to anyone else, even to his family. If you two arenβt a thing, I think it is coming closer.β Celene said, βAre you sure about it, my younger brother? Or do you think Dieu still has a chance?β
Β Β Β Β Β βDonβt you go around asking silly questions, Celene. That is up to fate to decide for me. I am no longer after your brother, but I do admit that I still fancy him. After that distance of a year, I finally had some self-respect.β Y/N said, playing with her coffee using a teaspoon gently. βBut if you ask me on a deeper level, I really donβt think me and Caleb would end up together.β
Β Β Β Β Β βBecauseβ¦?β
Β Β Β Β Β She paused, "Because I think youβre right at some point.β She spoke, βI donβt see him as a lover material, let alone a husband. I donβt want a man who canβt pursue me, a man who canβt do something for me. I meanβ Iβve always said that I am the one pursuing him but to think of it, I want to be pursued too. Wooing someone is to win their heart, but he has given me so many signals that I will never win his. It feels like I am only reading the same novel again and again, and not comprehending things.β
Β Β Β Β Β For the first time, Celene cannot think of any way to flip the humour over Y/Nβs head by beating her up through her words. Thereβs no part of her statement that tickled Celeneβs bank of insults somehow, so she just stared at her with a shocked face. βWow, you do sound like an entirely different person. I am verily scared right now. You? Giving up on Caleb? Thatβs like the most impossible thingΒ Iβve ever heard.β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut it is true, Celene. Your brother canβt be mine.β Y/N said and sighed, looking at her coffee once again. βBy the way, howβd you know this is the coffee I want?β
Β Β Β Β Β Celene paused for a second before speaking. "Caleb told me.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat do you mean? Iβve never shared a table with him, nor any conversation that leads to such an entrance to my thoughts and preferences.β She said and Celene shrugged. βBesides, you havenβt spoken to him for so long, how would you even know that?β
Β Β Β Β Β βHe told me that two years ago, of course.β Celene said, shocking Y/N on the spot. βI told you, you two have something. Can you quit manipulating me into thinking that you two arenβt a thing?β
Β Β Β Β Β βI really am not trying to hide anything, Celene. Your brother is crazy.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWell maybe I have more than a psychotic younger brother. Best just hope he doesnβt turn into a damned up politician who would risk bombing places just because he felt the need to.β Celene said, making Y/N crumple her nose in discomfort. βWell, he is already a part of politics, letβs just hope he doesnβt turn damned up. I am not kidding, that man is sick in the head.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N sighed before taking a sip of her coffee. βHe once mentioned that he can start a war, guess you arenβt kidding when you said your brother doesnβt hesitate when it comes to bullets and blood.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βSome things you hate, by the way.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N went nearer, leaning on the table and whispered. βRemember when you told me he has killed someone before? Is it really true? Can those beautiful hands really end someoneβs life?β
Β Β Β Β Β βDo you think I am lying? And what do you mean by beautiful hands? His hands look ugly andββ
Β Β Β Β Β βBut who?β Y/N asked another question. βWho did he kill? Why did he kill them?β
Β Β Β Β Β βMany to state. Like I said before, he is a soldier, of course he had killed someone.β Celene responded with an annoyed tone.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut you said he also killed someone outside his professionββ
Β Β Β Β Β βHe killed our fatherβs murderers, the same year as the year you met him.β Celene said and gasped. Y/N then sat back down, staring at nowhere as she processed the thought. βAh-Iβ¦ I am not meant to tell anyone about our fatherβs death.β She said before looking away awkwardly.
Β Β Β Β Β She suddenly remembered about that one thing Mathilda told her before, that he is different beforeβ he lost his father. Now that sheβs given a little idea of what happened, she is eager to dig deeper. But instead of pushing the idea that she hates violence, she asked, βYour father wasβ¦ murdered? I thought he died of sickness?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Celene angrily sighed. βDo you really believe those newspapers? Because if you do, I am sure none of those news about you and Dieu are credible.β She said, βIβ¦ we shouldnβt speak about this. I donβt think I can speak about this, Morzse. Iβm sorry.β
Β Β Β Β Β The previous colonel was murdered? But because of what? Now that sheβs thinking of it, Caleb once told her that there could be a war because of something he did not elaborate that much. Could that be the reason? If so, Caleb would be in so much trouble. His life could be in danger.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βSo, uhhβ¦β Celene spoke, βSince you mentioned that youβve already met Caleb, I would like to ask for a favour.β She took an envelope from her purse and handed it to Y/N. βI would hardly assume heβd appear at my event, he canβt even face us. This is another invitation from me for my wedding. I would like you to deliver it to him the next time you see him, if that would be alright for you.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N politely accepted. βAh, no worries. If you need me to convince him as well, I might be good at that one too.β
Β Β Β Β Β βYou canβt even convince him into a marriage, Morzse.β Alas, Celene has returned from the fog of weight from their conversation earlier. She is back with her usual words, making Y/N frown with a loud sigh. βBut if you could convince him, then itβs a win-win situation for the both of us.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat do you mean by that?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Celene just shrugged.
Β Β Β Β Β βYouβre going on a date today with Dieu? Iβm not gonna lie, that shocked me to my core.β Dr. Zayne said when Y/N was preparing to leave the next day.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat do you mean? Weβve gone outside so many times already. And you shouldnβt call it a date, Iβve told Dieu before that weβre only going out as friends, unless we are married.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWell, you sure are marrying that man really soon.β Dr. Zayne said and Y/N just rolled her eyes with a smirk.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βItβs all up to the colonel, really, Dr. Zayne.β Y/N responded with a hint of joke in her tone by calling him so formally. βEither way, I still have a year so I donβt think I should worry about it that much just yet.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Zayne shrugged and turned his back on her. βI think you should worry about it.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N just chuckled while rolling her eyes. βWhatever you say, doctor. Iβll take my leave now.β She said before leaving his office. Zayne then sighed when she left, thinking about whateverβs going on in her mind. He is still monitoring her well-being, and he is glad that sheβs been showing all positive signs lately.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Ah, Y/N Morzse. Is this man, Sylvestre Dieu, treating you well enough? He wonders.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Only she can answer that.
Β Β Β Β Β But if you are going to look at how she acts on the way home, she looks oddly excited for the day. Itβs as if she really is looking forward to their day together. Speaking of odd, she hasnβt seen the colonel since yesterday. It seems like he isnβt patrolling around today, or maybe they just did not cross paths. Either way, she isnβt looking for him anyways.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Well, maybe she is. She is just looking for him because Celene asked for her favour. However, suddenly, the man just stopped appearing. How confusing are events even? What even are the odds of that happening?
Β Β Β Β Β βHuh, no colonel for twenty-four hours isnβt normal.β She whispered underneath her breath as she looked around. She isnβt exaggerating at all, because she used to see that man all the time ever since their dinner together. It was just so sudden that he disappeared. βMaybe itβs just the changes in his shift.β
Β Β Β Β Β Anyways, she has returned to her path of going home, mind is completely clear about everything but the certain event that could happen later. She wonders, where would Dieu take her this time?
Β Β Β Β Β Well, it seems like that question is difficult to answer when a heavier body bumped onto her so strongly when she turned to walk by the small alley. The man is so strong that they both fell on the cobblestoned ground, making her groan in pain. βOw!β She reacted, seeing herself laying on the ground the moment she opened her eyes.Β
Β Β Β Β Β However, she did not only see herself, she also sawβ βGet up, Morzse. Now!β Caleb whispered loud enough, holding her arm up and dragging her with him. βRun faster!β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhaβ! What is happening?! Where are you taking me?!β She asked in pure panic but she went along anyway. In a split second, he placed his one arm around her waist and then used his other one to climb up the walls of the nearby houses. βAh!β She screamed when she saw the distance between her and the ground growing. βWhat on earth are you doing?!β
Β Β Β Β Β This is insane, the colonel just bumped into her so strong that she mustβve fractured a bone upon that impact itselfβ and now sheβs being taken vertically out of nowhere. She canβt seem to comprehend whatβs happening.Β
Β Β Β Β Β They then reached the roof of a high tower, but he did not let go. He just sat there, holding her still while looking out for something thatβs probably chasing him. βColonel, what is happeningββ
Β Β Β Β Β βShh.β He said, placing a hand on her mouth whilst having all of his limbs around herβ¦ almost.Β
Β Β Β Β Β It felt so close like the embrace they shared from that one Christmas before they left, immediately making her chest sink. Why is she thinking of that instead of the fact thatβ she just got taken by this man so easily physically?! And the fact that he can do that shows how capable he is. She should be scared but no, she feltβ¦ warmth. How embarrassing of her.
Β Β Β Β Β She just sighed and closed her eyes in disappointment. Of course, she still has that soft spot for him, but she is aware that this isnβt okay. She immediately removed his hand and glared at him, βWhat is this all about? I have places to be. Youβre telling me right now or elseββ
Β Β Β Β Β βColonel!β Some voices of the soldiers called from below. βColonel, come on! Stop hiding!β
Β Β Β Β Β He is hiding fromβ¦ his soldiers? βHuh? Why are you hiding from your soldiers?β He did not respond, he just stayed put, watching them leave one by one. Once the soldiers left, he immediately moved away from her. Good thing he placed at least ten inches of distance between them after that physically shocking incident, Y/N wouldnβt let that slide.
Β Β Β Β Β He sighed in relief. βAh, at last, theyβve left me alone.β He said.
Β Β Β Β Β She then dusted her uniform clean before sitting properly. βSo, care to explain what this is all about?β
Β Β Β Β Β He then looked at her direction, finally acknowledging her voice. βAh, my apologies for getting you caught up in this little workfield matters of mine. I did not intend to, really.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N glared at him. βColonel, I do not think taking me along is entirely necessary. You couldβve just ran away without me, and left me going with my day.β
Β Β Β Β Β βHa, let you go on with your day? I donβt think so.β He said with a rather annoying tone. For some reason, he looked away with his pause. βThey couldβve seen you there and ask you if you spotted me. I do not trust you would cover for me.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOf course I wouldnβt. If I saw your people chasing after you, I would tell them where you went.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βSee? Thatβs why I dragged you along.β He said with an unsure tone.
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N released a loud sigh. βAre you even thinking? You are a political figure and your men are looking for you, of course Iβd tell you where you are! It couldβve been something relevant.β The soldier did not respond, he just sat there next to her, staring at their town from the towerβs height. She then rolled her eyes before leaning a little over the roof, checking the distance. βWell, whatever the reason was, I do not mind, it is out of my business. Now would you please assist me off? Like I said, I have places to be.β
Β Β Β Β Β βSuch as?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β She immediately gave him a look. βIs it necessary to tell?β She asked with a tone but he did not answer. She, of course, ran out of patience. She sighed heavily before jumping off, holding onto the roof before an attempt to swing.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat are you doing?!β Caleb asked in panic, leaning by the edge of the roof to hold her wrist. βYou could die in this behaviour of yours, Morzse.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N looked up at him with a smug face, βEasy on your bullet, colonel. Thereβs a balcony down here, which you couldβve chosen as your place to hide.β She pulled her wrist off his hold and jumped through the balcony. Caleb then followed after. βBut I understand, your panic mustβve risen when you were being chased. But why the tower of all places?β
Β Β Β Β Β He paused for a moment, βBecause I always visit this place, the balcony and the stairs specifically.β Y/N made a confused face. βYou cannot blame me, the wind is strong up here. I can see the whole town by just standing here, whoever owns this place probably formed thousands of thoughts.β
Β Β Β Β Β βYouβre entering this private property at times? That's news for a colonel.β
Β Β Β Β Β βArenβt we doing that just now?β He asked and leaned on the railings, βBesides, it isnβt trespassing, I do not even enter the doors.β He was then interrupted by the sound of a swinging door. In shock, he reacted right away since it was the first time the door had opened right when he was there. Fortunately, he had a sigh of relief, mixed with shock when he turned around. Y/N, walking straight inside like she owns the place. βWhat are you doing, Morzse? Entering a private property whilst having the colonel around, I can arrest you right now.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N smiled at him before sitting down at the desk, picking up some things to look at. βAh, would I also be qualified to press charges? Iβd say the colonel has taken me into this place.β Caleb made a face on that. βCome in, come in! You mustβve been curious about this place for quite a while now.β
Β Β Β Β Β He hesitated, βI am not.β But he still followed right in, closing the door behind him and immediately muzzling the sound of strong wind outside. He then noticed that the lights were open. βThere is electricity in here? How did you even open this place?β
Β Β Β Β Β βSimple, I have a key because this place is mine.β Calebβs stomach sunk after hearing that sentence.Β
Β Β Β Β Β What. Does. She. Mean. By. That.
Β Β Β Β Β He just straight up mentioned how he frequently visits this place and now, sheβs telling him that. βHa, impressive lock-picking then. Never knew even the noble ones would have such kleptomania in them.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N just leaned with a comfortable position, making herself feel at home. βThen look around, you might find something youβd want to keep. I promise I wouldnβt mind.β She placed a foot on the table while her arms rested behind her head. βMaybe youβd love to have something of mine, you know? Iβd let you keep it, you have my word.β
Β Β Β Β Β The colonel gave her a stern look. βYou think Iβd want something thatβs yours? Why would I even want your bright diamond-coated objects?β
Β Β Β Β Β βNo.β She said and sat straight again. βBut everything I own is sentimental, so all of them are valuable deep inside.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd?β He asked sarcastically, making Y/N roll her eyes.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βNever mind, forget my offer.β She said and stood up. βAlmost forgot that you are not that kind of person.β
Β Β Β Β Β βI just donβt want something associated with you.β He responded, making Y/N roll her eyes again. βNow we must leave before the owner comes, this might be perceived as a non-informed inspection. We do not want to have that.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N just walked towards the paintings on the side, grabbing one of them and then presenting it to him. βAlas, my smallest painting. This is my childhood dog Bowie. I made this painting about three years before I met you, honoring my dogβs long life.β She said and showed the name and signature behind the canvas.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Bowie, by Y/N Morzse
Β Β Β Β Β She then returned it and then grabbed another one. βThis one is made to honour the blood donors from my first two years in nursing school, we received about two hundred bags in a day at one time and we were able to do transfusion. This is one of the paintings I had in my exhibit last year.β
Β Β Β Β Β She then placed it down before walking towards the huge shelf on the side. βThis one is my collection of mugs, some of them are handcrafted by me. I just started doing clay a year ago so itβs not quite perfect yet.β She then opened the shelf and grabbed one. βThis one here is my personal favourite, a teacup painted by me and my brother Salvatore.β She placed it back and walked towards many other things to show him.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Calebβs eyebrows knotted a little before leaning on the table, crossing his arms to watch her show her things one by one. βSo youβre really proving that this place is yours?β
Β Β Β Β Β βI am. Interesting, isnβt it?β She asked, earning a confusing little hum from the man.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βI am justβ¦ curious.β He said, βYou have a huge manor at home, whatβs the need for a tower in the middle of the town?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N grabbed one of the books from a shelf before speaking, βBecause I am not the only artist of our bloodline.β She said and opened a specific page, βMy grandmother owned this tower when she was my age. She had so many artistic hobbies and she used this place as her escape.β She showed a picture, a very beautiful woman in an old photograph.
Β Β Β Β Β βShe looks just like youβ¦β Caleb commented.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βIndeed! And do you know whatβs even interesting?β She said and unfolded another page, βShe married the colonel before your father.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb was stunned for a second upon hearing that, so he cleared his throat to ease the situation. βSo, what youβre trying to say isβ¦?β
Β Β Β Β Β βWeβre so similar that I might also marry the colonel?β She joked, making the man sigh. βI am only making laughter, of course. Maybe we get married, maybe we donβt. Who knows?β She then turned around to return the book to the shelf. But when she turned to look at the colonel again, she noticed that his entire figure showsβ¦ something. βAre you alright?β
Β Β Β Β Β βI am, why do you ask?β He responded right away, so she shook her head with a smile.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Suddenly, she remembered about Celene. βOh, by the way.β She said before walking towards her messenger bag by the table just next to him. She took the envelope from inside and handed it to him. βAn invitation.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb with a confused face looked at her. βAn invitation? Your date of birth isnβt coming just yet, what is this for?β But he accepted it anyway, opening it right after. For a moment, he took his time to read it. It took him not less than ten seconds to have a facial expression. βAhβ¦ Celeneβs marriage.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N showed a confused face. βYouβ¦ Youβre not surprised?β She said and leaned on the table as well next to him. For a longer time, he just stared at the paper in his hands, as if it made him think of something. βYou havenβt spoken to your family for so long.β She said, βWhy?β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course, he took his time to respond. He shook his head before folding the invitation again, placing it in his pocket. βIt is a personal matter, you need not to know.β
Β Β Β Β Β βI believe I do need to know. After all, you decided to speak to me over your family and friends. Why is that?β Y/N asked, trying to interrogate him. However, he still did not respond. βMe and Celene met at the cafe yesterday, we talked about things including that. I am surprised you havenβt spoken to your family.β
Β Β Β Β Β βLike I said, it is a personal matter, I only approached you because I happened to pay your family respects and condolencesββ
Β Β Β Β Β βYour sister mentioned your fatherβs death, same as Mathilda a year ago.β Y/N pushed, trying to get the information out of him. βI was told that only you can tell me the entire story.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd what is your benefit from this story of mine?β
Β Β Β Β Β βYour benefit first and foremost is finally having someone to talk to. People around you told the exact same storyβ Caleb has changed ever sinceβ Mine on the other sideβ¦β She paused, βI cannot think of any possible benefit of mine. Not that I care, I just want you to know that you are not required to contain everything inside.β
Β Β Β Β Β βYou donβt know me, Morzse. I need not any help.β
Β Β Β Β Β βItβs Y/N.β She corrected him. βAnd youβre right, I donβt know you. I know nothing about you despite knowing you for three years at most, but does that matter?β She tried making a way through her words, βI donβt need to know you in order for me to know that you are alone, that you need something, that you are needing someone.β
Β Β Β Β Β βI donβt need you.β
Β Β Β Β Β That response did sting deep inside, sheβs got to admit. This man never failed to choose the sharpest words to use against her, really. But she canβt blame him. He doesnβt want to talk about it but she insistedβ for a reason. It takes millions of words, thousands of experiences, and hundreds of core memories to be able to read someone this easily.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Because what do you mean Y/N saw him as someone suffering with something inside? That isnβt how everyone views him.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Everyone sees him asβ¦ a problem. Or if not, someone they canβt stand. Strict, selfishβ a man who cannot show up for you.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAlright.β She said as her response, βBut if you ever do, I will always be there.β He did not respond, he just stared at nowhere whilst being in the same position. She then just sighed and grabbed her bag. βSo, if we arenβt talking further, I am taking it as another continuation for some other day. I will take my leave now. You can just pull the door in lock later if you are to leaveββ
Β Β Β Β Β βM-My family doesnβt want me as the colonelβ!β He spoke, suddenly accidentally interrupting her. βI am certain youβve heard that three years ago, from Connor. You know, at theβ¦ uhh, alley back then, where you found out my name.β
Β Β Β Β Β Why is he speaking out of nowhere, after telling her that he doesnβt need her? That he isnβt interested in talking about his personal matters.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βThey donβt want you as the colonel?β
Β Β Β Β Β βThey donβt. Because my father was murdered due to political concerns. The newspaper lied. They donβt want me to end up like him.β He looked away, βTheyβve always disagreed with his potential, passion, and integrity to serve the military. Hence, my parents divorced just when I was at a young age, and I lived with my father. There are times that I visit them too, but not literally.β
Β Β Β Β Β It is obvious that his parents are divorced from the very start; his siblings arenβt that much close to him, his mother doesnβt seem to mind him, and he only started living with them the same year she met him. He is wealthy himself, so why live with them? He can just buy himself his own house to call his home.Β Β Β Β Β Β
Β Β Β Β Β βMathilda once told me you were different before your fatherβs death, Celene on the other hand said youβve always been that wayβ¦ that made me curious somehow.β Y/N said, βCelene saidβ¦ youββ She paused, βYou killed people, your fatherβs murderers.β
Β Β Β Β Β βI believe people should be held accountable for what they did, no amount of imprisonment or monetary penalty would bring him back. Soβ¦ if you hate violence, I want to say that I have no regrets. My hands were coated in blood even through hell one day, I have no regrets.β He responded right away, clutching the gun by his side. βMy father is an honest man, a man who chooses to serve. If I were to view it, I am a hundred thousand times more likely to beβ¦β He paused, βLike how people said it.β
Β Β Β Β Β βHeard the new colonel is a hundred times stricter than his father.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh the new colonel has no emotions, do you think he empathizes with his people?β
Β Β Β Β Β βI think the new colonel would kill if he wanted to.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh, the second colonel Sontero, huh? He sounds like he would start a war if he felt like it.β
Β Β Β Β Β βThat colonel is scary, frightening.β
Β Β Β Β Β βScary?β
Β Β Β Β Β He hummed. βAs a political figure, that means I am to be criticized, the words of people speak for democracy and I signed up for that.β He said, βIf it means blood to blood, then they are right.β
     Y/N looked away, thinking. To be fair, she was also afraid of this man as her first impression. The only thing that made him less frightening probably was her extraordinary feelings for him, so she never really saw him as that kind of person⦠whether he killed someone or not. Either way, he did it for justice, but what kind of political matter ended up killing his father whilst being in his position?
Β Β Β Β Β βMy mother thought Iβd end up in the same case; buried deep with lies, but with no one to kill those offenders like I did. But why would I listen to the woman who never believed in anyone?β He chuckled a little, βI do love my mother, but itβsβ¦ difficult sometimes, only if you witnessed it growing up. Mind you what, I did not even live with her before. My father was the only person who showed me decency in my family. Not my siblings, not my mother, only he. And when he passed, it felt like I had lost a home.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N still did not respond. She just stood there, listening to his words, letting him speak his heart out.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh, pardon me, I do not like being vulnerable.β He said, getting his body weight off the table. βForget I said anything, I do notββ
Β Β Β Β Β And then he was interrupted,
Β Β Β Β Β By an embrace that someone else initiated aside from him, after all the years.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N held him tight, sending him into a spiral of shock due to the sudden embrace. Suddenly, he just felt himself returning the embrace. βIβm sorry you have to go through those, Caleb, I really am.β Y/N spoke in a calm, comforting voice. βI cannot put myself into your shoes because only you would know how heavy the weight is, so I am grateful. I am grateful that you shared the weight with me.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb did not say anything in return, he justβ stayed there, with her in between his arms.Β
Β Β Β Β Β And that conversation of theirs lasted for so long, making them talk about many things deep into each otherβs souls. Some stories made them laugh, some stories made them feel heavy, just stories that touch their souls on many different levels.Β
Β Β Β Β Β It felt like a dream, something Y/N never thought about happening ever. It looks like she just ended up befriending the man she thought she cannot even speak to.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Like what do you mean this man used to ignore her questions and greetings three years ago, and now he is in her private little tower, speaking about his life like he trusted her his entire life? That is such a twist in her story.
Β Β Β Β Β And for some reason, it felt like their souls just met midway whilst getting deeper into conversation.
Β Β Β Β Β βWhy were you hiding from your men earlier, by the way?β She asked, standing next to him at the balcony.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βIt isnβt work related, if I am going to be honest. Theyβre just asking for a drinking session by the tavern, which I repeatedly declined.β His response made Y/N cringe.
Β Β Β Β Β βYou? You declined a drinking session? I donβt think you would.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh I would, if I donβt like the people Iβd drink with.β He said, making Y/N roll her eyes. βLast time I had a drink with them, they just had me assisting them back to the military camp. Those men can hold a gun despite being drunk, but not their consciousness. I do keep my consciousness despite being drunk, by the way.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh, like that makes it sound better to my ears.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Their conversation went longer for hours, hours to the point that she even forgot something.Β
Β Β Β Β βYou said it felt like you lost your home when your father passed.β She spoke and he hummed in response. βJust so you know, this tower is sacred to my grandmother. Hence, I am planning to bring only the special people here. What Iβm saying isβ¦ you are the first and only person to be here, in the home of my soul, aside from me and my grandmother.β
     Caleb looked her in the eye, hinting⦠joy? She just smiled when she felt the energy.
Β Β Β Β Β She then grabbed something from her bag, handing it to him. A key to the tower. βSince I am thinking we areβ¦ friends now, I would like to give you an access here in my little hobby tower. Consider it your home as well, visit this place whenever you feel the need for happiness, whenever you want to think, and whenever you just want to be you.β
Β Β Β Β Β And she was sent home by Caleb that evening, bowing to her by the front door. βMy apologies again from dragging you along with me, I hope you had a wonderful afternoon with me.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N smiled and nodded, βI did, thank you. I hope you also did.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb, who seemed to be looking for something around her place, smiled in return. βI did.β
Β Β Β Β Β βThank you for your service then, colonel.β
Β Β Β Β Β He smiled and nodded, βAt your service.β
Β Β Β Β Β Just when Y/N was about to open the huge front doors, her mother did with a worried face. βMy darling, Y/N! Where have you been?β She worriedly asked, approaching her daughter and placing her hands on her arms gently. βSylvestre Dieu has been waiting for you for hours in the living room, he ought to pick you up in the afternoon!β She worriedly sighed, βMy, my, you know how important the Dieu are, Y/N.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N then showed a shocked face, βIβ mother, I forgot, pardon me! Is Dieu still inside? I will speak to him instead, worry not.β
Β Β Β Β Β βGood evening, Mrs. Morzse.β Caleb bowed to her mother, taking his hat off. Suddenly, Y/N felt her chest getting heavy upon realizing the mistake she subconsciously made. She just ditched her suitor to be with another man accidentally, orβ¦ someoneβs intentionally.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βColonel! It is nice to see you, good evening to you too.β Mrs. Morzse said in shock upon seeing the young man, βBut whyβ¦ Why are you with my daughter?β
Β Β Β Β Β βMother, it is alright. I would speak to Dieu myselfββ
Β Β Β Β Β βI am with your daughter the entire afternoon, maβam. Pardon me for unintentionally making your daughter miss an important matterβ¦ I assume?β He said with a ratherβ¦ unpleasant tone.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Mrs. Morzse approached him slowly, βThat did not answer my question, respectfully, colonel.β She said in a low, calm tone, βWhy are you with my daughter?Β You made it clear that you arenβt intending to woo her, so I would like to know, respectfully.β
Β Β Β Β Β βMother, do not intimidate the colonel.β
Β Β Β Β Β Just when Caleb was about to answer, another person appeared from inside. βY/N, is that you, my lady?β Dieuβs voice asked, approaching her with a calm demeanor. βThank heavens you are alright. Where have you been?β
Slowly, he noticed the existence of that man nearby, who slightly smiled at him with a pair of rather intimidating eyes. He didnβt speak first, because why would he? He is literally the colonel. He would only speak first if itβs someone he would utterly show respect for.
Β Β Β Β Β βColonel.β Dieu said with a nod, but the colonel did not respond, making him feel awkward.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βDieu, I really am sorry. I did not intend to forget about tonight.β Y/N apologized. βI was with the colonel, we passed by after a long time and eventually took the opportunity to catch up. I got caught up.β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu just smiled and chuckled a little, that made Y/Nβs mother nervous deep to her core. βY/N, my lady, you do not have to apologize for an event I set up myself. Being with me isnβt your responsibility, whatβs good is you are alright.β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut I said yes for tonight, so that is my responsibility.β
Β Β Β Β Β βMy lady, with all of me, please do not apologize.β Dieu repeated, assuring her.
Β Β Β Β Β βI really am sorry, Dieu. My daughter did not mean to miss an appointment with you.β Mrs. Morzse apologized.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh, madame, you too. Please, there is no need to apologize. Me and my lady, Y/N, are great friends so it is not a big deal.β He then looked at Y/N once again. βHave you had dinner, my lady?β
Β Β Β Β Β That question caught someoneβs attention.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βOh, I havenβt.β She responded, making Dieuβs smile fade.
Β Β Β Β Β He then looked away, βAh, I thought better.β He said, βThought if you are taking a lady out, you are to take care of her.β He sarcastically said, shocking the two women but the colonel.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course, thatβs an insult towards him, and he knows that too well.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd if you were to look after a lady, you wouldnβt let her walk home. Alas, someone else would.β Caleb responded, making everyoneβs eyes wide in shock.
Β Β Β Β Β That made Dieu angry, he is not gonna lie. But the thing isβ¦ indeed, that is his mistake. Fortunately, he is a man of class, he wouldnβt get out of his composure.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu knows that Y/N is in love with this manβ¦ or at least 2-3 years ago? Heβs not so sure, he hasnβt heard her speak about him ever since he left, and she never spoke about him at all whenever they are together.Β
Β Β Β Β Β But he knows that it is unrequited, so why is this man acting up in front of him? In front of Mrs. Morzse? In front of Y/N? In front of everyone? Unless there is something he is not aware of.
Β Β Β Β Β Everyone knows him as the man who doesnβt want his reputation to be painted the way it is, the man whoβs secretive about his things, the man who takes care of his image and privacyβ why would he let her name be written next to his? He never wanted that.
Β Β Β Β Β βSomething you only did because someone else started doing it.β Dieu responded, and the colonel smirked, looking down at him. Dieuβs going to admit, the colonelβs quite intimidating. He is taller, he looks like he could carry tons of weight in a pinch, and who knows whatβs inside that insane mind of his?
Β Β Β Β Β βOh Iβve done that even before you came into the image. Guess you shouldβve been faster.β Caleb responded, obviously turning the conversation into an argument already.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βI was in France.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd whose problem is that?β Caleb responded with a provoking tone, enough to make a normal person crash out in anger. However, Dieu seemed to be calm as ever.
Β Β Β Β Β βDo you have a problem with me, colonel?β Dieu asked in a low tone.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βDo you?β Caleb asked in return.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu just closed his eyes and calmly sighed before turning to look at the Morzses. βMadame, I will be heading home now.β He said and bowed to Y/Nβs mother. He then looked at Y/N with a smile. βLetβs see each other next time, my lady. Please take care.β
Β Β Β Β Β He then turned around and walked past the colonel without saying anything to him, and went on a carriage to go home.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Well, that argument made everything awkward. βWellβ¦ that wasnβt pleasant, colonel.β Mrs. Morzse told him, βThe Dieu family is important to us, speaking to their son like that is inappropriate. He is a noble man, he is respected.β
Β Β Β Β Β βRespectfully, Mrs. Morzse. Whether he is a noble or not, he is in my land.β Caleb responded and Y/N gasped a little. βIf I donβt like the way he speaks to me, then I donβt.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βCaleβ Colonel.β Y/N called before looking at her mother. βMother, may I please have a moment with him?β
Β Β Β Β Β Mrs. Morzse gave her daughter a look. βWe will speak after.β He then looked at the colonel next, who took off his hat to bow on her. βColonel.β
Β Β Β Β Β βMrs. Morzse.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β With that, Mrs. Morzse headed back inside, leaving the two of them alone. βWhy would you speak to Dieu like that?β Y/N spoke right away.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βDid he not show his competence first?β He responded.
Β Β Β Β Β βYou sounded like you were on for an argument, I donβt understand. You shouldnβt argue with people like him. Like my mother said, he is important.β Y/N added, βAnd even though he isnβt, I didnβt like your tone as well.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAre you going to make an excuse for his, then?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat?β Y/N asked in disbelief.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb paused, βHe was clearly trying to insult me.β He said in his usual stern voice. βHe is important to you, not to me.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N took a long pause before exhaling. βIβm sorry, Caleb, really. It is my fault why you got caught in such.β Yeah, it is your fault, really. βI donβt understand what that argument is all about, but Iβ¦β She sighed, βIβm sorry.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb stared at her, not breaking eye contact for a long time before speaking. βYou need not to apologize, I was the one who took you.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βBut it was me who forgot about my matters.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhether you have matters or not, I have no right to take you anywhere with me. So,β He bowed a little, his hat on his chest. βForgive me, both for my mistake and how I dealt with it.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N immediately bowed in return, βIβm sorry, please do not apologize as well.β
Β Β Β Β Β After that, they just stood in front of each other, not knowing what to say. The colonel however is giving her a stern look, enough to make her feel intimidated for no reason at all. She knows that this manβs natural features are intended to make anyone feel that way, why isnβt she used to it still?
Β Β Β Β Β βSo,β She spoke, clearing her throat. βI will be heading inside now, need I speak to my mother. I had fun today. Please take care on your way home, or to the military camp.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb hummed and nodded, looking at her for about two seconds before turning his back. Y/N watched his retreating figure, pausing before walking inside. She sighed heavily, closing the door behind her before walking towards her mother whoβs taking tea by the fireplace.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βMother,β She spoke, earning a look from her mother.
Β Β Β Β Β βTake a seat, my dear. I have something to speak with you about, with all honesty, I do hope.β She calmly said, making her daughter sit down. Y/N is a little nervous, thinking her mother must be angry towards her due to the incident. Mrs. Morzse leaned a little from her seat, chin almost on her chest but eyes are still stuck on her daughter to give her an intimidating yet curious eyes. βThe colonel,β She said, βAre you two betrothed?"Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N jumped a little with that straightforwardness of her mother. βW-What? No, weβre not. Why would you assume such a thing?β She reacted. βThat is impossible, not now nor ever.β
Β Β Β Β Β Her mother gave her a confused look, βBecause I see it, I see the way he looked at you, his approach towards the situationβ the colonel was known for being distant towards romance but why when it comes to you, he is being troubled?β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat? No, he isnβt. Thatβs absurd.β Y/N said in disbelief. Celene also talked about that yesterday, and now her mother. Is there something she isnβt seeing? βMaybe what youβre sensing is friendship, that weβve finally bonded. Iβve noticed that weβve reconciled and he somehowβ became different, more approachable if I must say, yet still difficult to read.β
Β Β Β Β Β Her mother shook her head, placing the teacup down. βY/N, darling, you need not to hide anything. If you are being pressured into marrying Dieu whilst having a lover, we can end the arrangement. You need not to force yourself into such, you need not to hide your relationship.β
Β Β Β Β Β βMother Iββ She paused, thinking about the connection they have with their family. Can she lie her way out? Is this the opportunity? If so, she must think fast, think about how to make this lie work for a long period of time. Suddenly, she thought about the outcome of this if it didnβt work on the colonelβs side.Β
Β Β Β Β Β If she would tell her mother that they have something and it was addressed to him, he would most definitely deny that. And if that happened after the engagement was called off, that would be a huge damage to their familyβs reputation. One, for disrespecting the Dieu family by showing deceivement. Second, by showing that their eldest daughter is a terrible liar who involves other people.Β
Β Β Β Β Β She sighed heavily, indecisive. She fiddled with her fingers before parting her lips, βT-The colonelββ She paused, still thinking of what she would say. βThe colonel is not in love with me. If he ever is, then I would love to call off the engagement right away.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Mrs. Morzseβs eyebrows raised, βAre you being decent to me?β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N nodded fast with a gentle hum. βBut,β She paused, wanting to add more. βIf that would ever change within a year, would I still be able to call off the engagement?β
Β Β Β Β Β Her mother nodded with a reassuring hum. βOf course, isnβt that what we talked about?β She responded. βI do appreciate your honesty, dear. I really do. I do hope that nothing within this is pressuring you at any sort.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N smiled with a nod. βOf course, mother.β
Β Β Β Β Β The colonel on the other side sat inside the tavern, a huge glass filled with the strongest aroma of alcohol, covering almost half of the alcoholic atmosphere. He slouched on his chair, his soldiers around the table talking to one another. His face is with an unexplainable expression, but it looked as if he is drowning from something.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βSo, colonel, you had a great time with lady Morzse.β One of them spoke, making him dart his eyes towards them. βWhat happened?β
Β Β Β Β Β Others added, βYeah, tell us! Are you two going out now?β
Β Β Β Β Β He took a sip from his glass and placed it down again. Suddenly, the afternoon flashed into his mind and all he saw wasβ genuineness. Was that there from the very beginning? Was she like that even before? They spoke for hours that he almost forgot the fact that he shouldnβt bother. But it bothers him, was her presence that warm already before?
Β Β Β Β Β βWhatever happened stays between the two of us.β He said, keeping everything to himself. Clearly, he is the type of man to keep his personal matters privateβ but who wouldβve thought that sheβd be inside those personal matters? Even he did not expect that.Β
Β Β Β Β Β His soldiers immediately frowned, βNo fun.β They commented. βBut you know, I heard she is to be betrothed to one of the nobles, Sylvestre Dieu next year. I donβt see the good idea with sticking around her.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β βIs that even real?β One of them asked,Β
Β Β Β Β Β βItβs not confirmed, theyβve never released any official statement aside from the two of them, telling their peers. Eventually, everyone sees it that way.β Another soldier responded.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut to think of it, their families have been charity and business partners for so many years so itβs believable.β
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd theyβre always together in the news.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWell, I heard theyβre good friends.β
Β Β Β Β Β βOf course, you have to get to know your future partner as well, you know?β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb just sat there, staring at nowhere with a blank face as he listened to his soldiers talk about the woman he just spent time with earlier in the afternoon. For some reason, he is also torn whether to believe that thing or not, that she is to be arranged in a marriage.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut what if sheβs just being forced? What if she doesnβt like the man?β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat do you mean by that? Dieu is a perfect man! She wouldnβt stick with that man if he isnβt an ideal husband.β Caleb heard one of them respond, immediately making his facial expression shift into something that shows annoyance.Β
Β Β Β Β Β That man? An ideal husband? Hell to his life.Β
Β Β Β Β Β He can list thousands of reasons why she shouldnβt marry that man. Heβs always known that he has quite an attitude, something he expected from a noble man who only wanted silver and gold on his plate. He never liked the idea of that person, in any aspect.
Β Β Β Β Β βNo, but what if that is the case? What if she has to lie her way out of the arrangement?β The other soldier defended. βWhat if she needed an escape? What if she needed to pretend that she has a lover?β
Β Β Β Β Β That caught Calebβs attention but he showed no interest.Β However, he canβt help but remember what she told him years ago.
Β Β Β Β Β βIf I turn twenty-two and I was sent into an arranged marriage, may I ask you for a favour?β She asked, catching his attention off guard.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βFavour?β
Β Β Β Β Β She nodded with a smile. βBarge into my house and tell my parents that weβre lovers.β He made a face upon hearing that. βIn that case, they would cancel the wedding and itβll buy me some time to process everything, or maybe find myself falling for someone again. Or maybe Iβd get more time to win over your heart again haha!β
Β Β Β Β And for some reason, he felt sick to his stomach, thinking about what he said in response.
Β Β Β Β Β βYou think Iβd let my image be painted as your lover?β He said, immediately making her roll her eyes. βI wouldnβt, maybe ask someone else.β
Β Β Β Β Β What if she really needed help? What if she really doesnβt want to be married to that man and sheβs asking for his help? What if sheβs just going after him because sheβd feel safe? What if she asked for his help because she feels safe with him? Ah, he sounded so stern andβ stupid. Very selfish of him to speak to her that way.Β
Β Β Β Β Β But to be fair, that is a veryβ¦ normal thing to say to a strange woman he doesnβt even have any relationship withβ at least in his nature. But now that he thought of it these days, it felt as if he acted soβ¦ incorrectly. What do you mean he said that to a very welcoming, gentle, and genuine woman?Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat about you, colonel?β The soldiers called him out.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat about me?β
Β Β Β Β Β βIf Lady Morzse is to ask you to pretend to be her lover to save her from her marriage, would you do it?β They asked, immediately earning sounds from the others. They all know that the lady had years of sweet side towards him, of course his answer would be very important for them to hear.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βBut the case is difficult, if they found out that sheβs lying, youβd be in massive trouble.β
Β Β Β Β Β βIndeed, we are nothing against a noble man like Sylvestre Dieu.β
Β Β Β Β Β βTch.β Caleb reacted, shaking his head. βMe? Nothing against that man? In which angle did you put your perspective into?β He said with his usual tone, βThat man is nothing against me. If weβre talking about money, Iβd take Lady Morzse into the most prestigious life more than he could.β
Β Β Β Β Β That earned whistles and howling from the soldiers, making him smirk in satisfaction. βAh, I almost forgot that you are also wealthy, even wealthier than Sylvestre Dieu. But why waste your life with the dedication of being a colonel?β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb then finished his drink before standing up, βIf you view money that way, then maybe thatβs the reason why you think Sylvestre Dieu is something.β He grabbed his cap and started walking. βIβll be off.β
Β Β Β Β Β That left the soldiers into a ratherβ¦ unsettling silence. βDo you think he has a problem with Sylvestre Dieu? I never thought heβd have a strange reaction towards a name.β One of them asked them and they shrugged.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βDo you think perhaps it has something to do with Lady Morzse? You know, she probably spoke about it earlier.βΒ Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWell, if thatβs the case, then I would like to spend the rest of my life wondering why.β
Β Β Β Β Β Days went by so fast that Celeneβs wedding arrived. Y/N has made it clear to her that she wasnβt sure whether she was able to convince Caleb or not to come, because even though she was able to make him talk his heart out, he didnβt show any interest towards reconnecting with his family.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh, youβre here! Thought youβd ditch me last minute.β Celene called out to her when she saw her by the entrance of the bridesmaidβs quarters. She then held her hand and faced the other bridesmaids, βEveryone, Lady Morzse!β She announced, earning the eyes and cheers of the women.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh! I would die to wear such a luxuriousβ glamorous gown!β One of them said, caressing her corset.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βAnd your hair is as soft as it looks!β
Β Β Β Β Β βI canβt believe your brother wouldnβt reciprocate Lady Morzseβs feelings, Celene.β One of the women said, immediately choking her a little.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat?β Y/N whispered to Celene, who gave her an awkward face before rolling her eyes.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat? Come on now, you act like everyone doesnβt know about your infatuation with my brother.β Celene defended and took her away from the women. βNow, now, letβs have a talk.β They sat by one of the sofas inside. βSo, have you seen Caleb? Before you entered?β She asked in a low and soft tone, odd from Celene.
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N sadly shook her head with a sigh, βWould you like me to visit the camp? Thereβs still an hour left and he might make it.β
Β Β Β Β Β Celene just shook her head and exhaled heavily. βNo, it is not necessary but I do appreciate your thoughtfulness.β She said and looked away. βI did not expect anything from him anyways, thatβs how he is.β Celene said in a low tone, hinting sadness. βWho am I to have hope despite knowing the obvious?β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N doesnβt know what to say, she doesnβt know how to comfort a family-related matter for some reason. Sheβs afraid that she might say something that could invalidate her feelings, or to make Celene feel bad. βIβm sorry, Celene, I really am.β She spoke, caressing her shoulder.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βDid you know the reason why I made you ask him?β Celene asked with a smirk,
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat is it?β
Β Β Β Β Β βI made him your escort for today.β Celene said, referring to the wedding tradition of theirs, that a maiden gets to be paired to a man for the entire event.Β
Β Β Β Β βWhat?! Then that made him not want to come more!β Y/N said and that made Celene laugh, βNo, really. He wouldnβt be convinced with such, you played it wrong.β
Β Β Β Β Β For an intelligent woman, Celene is wrong. Why would she think that heβd be convinced to come to her wedding if itβs because of Y/N?
Β Β Β Β Β Celene tapped her shoulders loud as she laughed hysterically, βLikewise, I had hope.β She said before calming down. βFor some reason, I had a massive hope heβs had something with you. Hence, seeing you hand the invitation yourself would cause an interaction, making him rethink. Like I said, it wouldβve been a win-win situation for us.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N just displayed a ratherβ¦ annoyed face. βI think you shouldβve rethought all of those.β
Β Β Β Β Β Celene paused for a moment. βI am sorry, Y/N.β She almost whispered. βI didnβt mean to make you spend the event all by yourself.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N smiled, βIt wasnβt your intention at all.β
Β Β Β Β Β And the remaining hour passed with everyone being present but the youngest brother of hers, everyoneβs all seated so formally inside the cathedral, all wearing fancy clothes as expected from their family. The orchestra from the ceiling makes the music as they await for the brideβs entrance.Β
Β Β Β Β Β When the bridesmaids finished walking, they found themselves sitting in pairs. However, she has no one, not that she minds but itβs kind of saddening how she has no one to speak to nearby but an empty seat next to her. Y/N sat there by the end of the seat, all by herself near the red carpet where Celene would walk. For some reason, she feels even more nervous as if she is the one to walk to the aisle.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Ah, the adrenaline of being a bride, something she yearns for but also afraid of. In less than a year, sheβd be in the same situation, something sheβs already expected but sheβs still very nervous about it. Sheβs still not over the stage of acceptance, she still canβt picture herself in that life. The same music would play on that day, sheβd wear a grand wedding gown, and sheβd walk down the aisle with peopleβs eyes on her.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Thinking of that made her chest feel heavier, she shouldnβt be thinking that way during Celeneβs wedding. She should enjoy her moment, feel the warmth of the very eventful day.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Like how every wedding goes, the vows came, the tears of joy, and the rings. How can such a thing be so special to her? How can such a thing be so sacred?
Β Β Β Β Β She canβt help but fidget her gloved thumbs, subconsciously showing anxiety. She tried her best, really, but what can she do if thereβs really nothing left to do butβ¦ be that way?Β
Β Β Β Β Β Suddenly, a hand held her fidgeting pair, holding it tightly. She slightly jumped in shock, making her turn towards the person right away. Her eyes widened, βCaleβ Colonel!β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb whoβs all dressed for the event looked at her with a pair of knotted eyebrows. βShh!β He shushed her, making her close her lips right away. However, he still did not take his grip away, he just stayed that way which somehow calmed her feelings. βRespect for the ceremony, would you have some?β
Β Β Β Β Β Ah, this is the hand sheβs been asking for marriage for years, the hand she wanted to hold one day while stating her vows, the hand of the man whom she wanted to put a ring on, the only hand she would allow to feel the warmth of her skin.
Β Β Β Β Β Such a sweet momentarily thing, but it was immediately ruined by the thought that he wouldnβt do this years ago. That this isnβt him at all. However, arenβt they likeβ¦ more than acquaintances last time?
Β Β Β Β Β βYouβ¦ you just arrived? Where have you been? The ceremony started about an hour ago. The weddingβs going to end soon.β
Β Β Β Β Β The colonel gave her an odd look once again, still holding her hands with one hand. βWhat are you talking about? Iβve been here all this time. Are you well?β He said with a rather sarcastic tone and looked back at his sister. βGet out of your mind whenever youβre at a function that doesnβt require your sight beyond the present time, Morzse. Youβll have your own marriage one day, you need not to overthink that..β
Β Β Β Β Β Her eyes widenedβ how did he know what sheβs thinking about?! That is just very strange.
Β Β Β Β Β She rolled her eyes, βI am not even thinking about that, why would you think that I am thinking about that?β She defended, βAnd yes, Iβll have my own marriage one day, you need not to remind me of that.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb then gained himself a smirk on his face, remembering the comment his soldiers delivered that night at the tavern.
βBut what if sheβs just being forced? What if she doesnβt like the man?β
Β Β Β Β Β βAh, a rather disappointed tone for a very happy event, why so? Youβre having troubles with your only potential husband?β He asked, obviously trying to pull something inside her head. βSeems like the idea of weddings areβ¦ affecting you negatively, what a shame. Poor groom to be.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N rolled her eyes, of course she knows that heβs just being a pain on her back again. Despite having that heartfelt talk last time, heβs still the same exact personality she met years ago.
Β Β Β Β Β βYou do not need to be ashamed to admit such a thing. I donβt blame you, worry not.β He added, βHe is a pain in the a-β
Β Β Β Β Β βDieu is an extremely amazing man, thank you very much. You need not say more than that.β She defended and sat properly, immediately making the smug on his face drop. βI actually think I am really going to marry him. I mean, why wouldnβt I? He is the best man out there. If I were you, Iβd be damned up nervous that some other man is trying to take my seat, you know? Catch up, someoneβs getting ahead of you.β
Β Β Β Β Β Ah, as if her reverse conversation would do something about that manβs feelings about her. But at least itβs the confidence that brought her there, right?Β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb just gave an annoyed face before letting go of her hands, sitting properly as well. βWhy thanks for reminding me, I wouldnβt want to be the type to touch someone elseβs woman.βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Of course, that backfired on her. She just furrowed her eyebrows and angrily looked at nowhere. Quietly, she spoke underneath her breath, βI am your woman.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat did you say?β Caleb asked, but she sighed heavily, showing her frustration.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βI didnβt say anything, colonel.β
Β Β Β Β Β And they did not speak to one another until the very end of the ceremony, she doesnβt understand why. Maybe he was annoyed by how she spoke back to him? Or maybe he just really respected that distance she tried to imply? Who knows? Either way, sheβs verily disappointed that she said such a thing, now they have nothing to talk about and he doesnβt even want to face her way.Β
Β Β Β Β Β However, they are paired for the entire day as per Celeneβs advice, that means theyβd spend the rest of the event together. However once again, it seems like the other party isnβt cooperating at all.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N is walking through the crowd of dancing people inside the ballroom, looking for the specific man sheβs tasked to have the traditional dance with. However, it seems like he is nowhere in sight.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βUgh, where could that man go?β She breathed angrily, pushing past people gently.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Indeed, despite being one of the famous names, sheβd still spend the function all by herself if she knew no one. All ladies her age are betrothed, whilst the other ladies are with their pairs of the day. If it isnβt with people around her age, who? Important people that are twice her age who would always question her about her marriage plans? Ah, she isnβt interested in that of course.
Β Β Β Β Β Suddenly, the scrunch of her nose went even deeper when an idea popped in her head. βThat alcoholic man.β She mumbled before heading towards the drinks. Of course heβd be there, how did she not think of that? That man literally canβt spend a day without alcohol.
Β Β Β Β Β And just like she expected, she saw the man standing with other soldiers, a glass of alcohol in his hand as he talked to them. She immediately approached them, earning suspicious looks from the other men. βLunch box lady is coming your way, colonel.β One of the soldiers whispered, making Caleb turn to look at her, his smile disappearing.Β
Β Β Β Β Β He immediately crossed his arms, facing her. βYes?β He said, with a tone intended to claw out the rage inside her. The other soldiers then noticed the visible emotions on her face, making them distance themselves immediately.
Β Β Β Β Β βLetβs go.β One whispered to another.
Β Β Β Β Β βI think the colonel is doomed.β Another said.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N stopped in front of the said man, looking up. βThe traditional dance will be presented in five minutes, what are you doing out here drinking at noon?β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course, he did not forget about that. βDance? I told Celene that we arenβt dancing and she said yes. I wouldnβt want to have a public appearance as such.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat? But she told me otherwise.β She responded, and Caleb just faced away to take a sip from his glass. Y/N, annoyed, reached for his glass and placed it on the nearby table. βCaleb, the sun is clearly up for a lot of drinks.β
Β Β Β Β Β βA lot? You only caught me with one glass, and itβs barely even full.β He defended, βAnd why does it matter to you?β
Β Β Β Β Β βBecause weβre paired for the day, goodness!β She whisper-shouted. βYou have a lady to be with.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb just sighed. βWe are not arguing right now, Morzse. Everyone here in the event knows you so speak with others around for a while, Iβd look for you later.β He then grabbed his glass and walked towards his soldiers once again.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Ugh! What a terribly annoying man! She just angrily looked at him for a while before walking away. Heβs right, everyone knows her here yet no oneβs free enough to have even the smallest talk.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Instead of looking for someone to talk to, she just decided to head out to spend the remaining minutes for fresh air. Celene is indeed very considerate to set them up together however, it seems like the other party is too stubborn. She canβt blame him, despite already becoming friends or so she thought, he still wouldnβt spend a very fancy event with a woman.
Β Β Β Β Β She exhaled loudly, rubbing her arms.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat are you doing out here?β A familiar voice spoke next to her, making her jump a little. βOh, Iβm sorry for unintentionally surprising you, my lady.β
Β Β Β Β Β βDieu? Youβre also invited by Celene?β
Β Β Β Β Β βNo, she invited my parents but they decided to tag me along.β He said, taking a sip from his wine.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhy did you not approach me?β She asked, but then she realized, βOh, are you also paired with someone?β
Β Β Β Β Β He shook his head, βNo, I wasnβt invited as one of the bachelors. Like I stated, I came here with my parents. I did not approach you because my parents said you are here with the colonel, and I respect that.β He explained. βSo, if I may ask again, what are you doing out here by yourself? Whereβs the colonel?β
Β Β Β Β Β She paused for a moment, βHeβs occupied, but I do not blame him. He went to his sisterβs wedding to socialize, not to be stuck with his pair. Everyone should be like that.β She said, βHowever, I do admit I feel a little down. He said he wouldnβt dance with me, but then he said heβd look for me later, so I guessβ whatever. Itβs fine, you shouldnβt hear an immature rant from a lady. Iβm sorry, Dieu.β
Β Β Β Β Β βThen I will dance with you.β He said, βI am not paired with anyone and I know weβd do well with the dance, we already danced together before.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/Nβs eyes went wide. βIs that even allowed? I mean, I am paired with someone else. Wouldnβt that be taboo?β
Β Β Β Β Β βNot if your pair isnβt interested.β He said, βSo, if itβs fine with you, I would like to ask for your hand, to dance with me.β
Β Β Β Β Β She paused for a while. Surely, thatβs fine, isnβt it? Itβs just a dance where unmarried people are paired, people really never mind about that. Aside from that, theyβre known to have their families as close friends, and no one knows sheβs paired to the colonel.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Of course thatβs fine, itβs not like it matters. βOf course. Thank you for saving me on that, Dieu.β She responded, earning an assuring nod from him. βAlso, Iβd like to apologize from last time again. I promise, I really did not intend to miss our appointment.β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu smiled, βItβs alright, like I said.β
Β Β Β Β Β βItβs not only about missing the appointment, but also about the colonel. I did not intend any of you to have such an argument, and I think it is partially my fault why it happened.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhether youβre with the colonel or not is not an issue. You are in control of your time, and that is alright. Besides, I think the colonel and I really do have a strange unknown bad blood going on. I think that man loathes me.β Dieu said, explaining his side. βThat wasnβt the only time I felt that, he always had that look whenever he saw me.β
Β Β Β Β Β βHeβs like that naturally, looking like he loathes people.β
Β Β Β Β Β βNot at all, my lady. I know I am not insane, that man hates me to the core and that night was just one of the lucky evenings where he could express himself.β
Β Β Β Β Β Now that she thinks of it, they had a conversation earlier and somehow, she reminded herself about how Calebβs interest about Dieu rose up. Indeed, that man hates Dieu for some reason. But why?
Β Β Β Β Β βNever even spoken to him before, I think heβs insane.β Dieu added.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Just when she was about to respond, she heard another voice from a distance. βSo youβre out here, Iβve been looking for you.β Caleb, with that look in his eyes as described by Dieu.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu then sighed in annoyance, βPray heβd not say a thing to me, my lady.β He said, βBut I doubt he wonβt.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb then walked towards them, eyes on the lady in fancy dress. βThe dance is starting momentarily, we must head in.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat do you mean? I thought you wouldnβt want to dance with me?β Y/N asked,Β
Β Β Β Β Β βDo I look like I have a choice?β
Β Β Β Β Β βYesβ¦?β Y/N said in a curious tone. βIβve already decided to have a dance with Dieu.β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb scoffed right away. βOh?β He said, eyes darting towards the said man. βDid you ask me first before deciding to dance with this man?β
Β Β Β Β Β βYou can speak to me directly, colonel.β Dieu spoke, immediately initiating a very familiar sense of argument. βI asked the lady, respectfully, as I saw her spending the time with herself alone. Who leaves a woman by herself anyways?β
Β Β Β Β Β βYou speak like you know how to be a man of events.β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu smirked, βOf course I do, because I know. Besides, me and my lady have been paired in one before, surely itβll save your image fromβ¦ being seen with someone. You know, you do care about your privacy so being with a woman in public is a very sensitive thing for you.β
Β Β Β Β Β Ah, Caleb knew it right away. This man is trying to provoke him into something and he knows how to respond to that.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βIs that so? I guess youβre being mindful now that your wife-to-be is being seen with someone withβ¦ higher image.β Caleb said with an intention to hurt his ego down. βWith someone everyone knows as the man sheβs been pining with for years. Wouldnβt that hurt as much as I thought? Your wife-to-be, with a man she loves?β
Β Β Β Β Β βColonel!β Y/N said, trying to wind down the tension between the two of them.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu smirked and shook his head. βNot at all. I feel bad for you, actually. Youβre only known as a story that never started, and rumours already have me as her husband.β He responded, immediately making Calebβs smile fall down. βAnd the man she loves? I never heard her say your name. So, which one of us really is the one worthy of pity, huh?β
Β Β Β Β Β Caleb looked at him dead in the eye before grabbing Y/Nβs hand gently, walking back inside right away, leaving the man behind. βColonel! What are you doing?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β Obviously, he lost the argument and he is looking for his way out. βCall me colonel one more time, Iβd slit that manβs throat in front of you.β
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat?!β Y/Nβs eyes widened, not sure about what she just heard. Did she interpret that correctly? That the colonel is showing frustration out ofβ¦ jealousy? Or maybe itβs just inside her head.Β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieu stood there, watching the two of them walk away from him, his face mixed with satisfaction andβ¦ annoyance. That colonel really is getting on his nerves, he doesnβt know what his problem is. βMonsieur Dieu.β A man then approached Dieu, bowing a little but he did not greet in return. The man then looked at where heβs lookingβ the colonel with the woman heβs known to marry. βIsnβt that lady Morzse? What is he doing with the colonel? I thought sheβs betrothed to you?β
Β Β Β Β Β It is Hugo, Dieuβs butler, respectfully standing next to him. Dieu then shook his head, βShe is not betrothed to me, Hugo. At least not yet, and I do respect her decisions. She can be with anyone she wants, and that is alright.β Dieu respectfully responded. βWhat pours fuel to the flame inside me is that specific man, the colonel. I think that man loathes me.β
Β Β Β Β Β Hugo scrunched his nose as a reaction to that statement. βWell maybe thereβs a flaming animosity. Perhaps, he as well is infatuated with lady Morzse?βΒ
Β Β Β Β Β That response led Dieu into a short pause. βYouβre rightβ you could be correct, Hugo. But why isnβt he doing anything about it? He can easily take my lady Morzse anytime but he isnβt doing a thing.β
Β Β Β Β Β βI think itβs because of what I heard, about the colonel keeping up a reputation of having the most protected personal life.β Hugo responded and Dieu scoffed.
Β Β Β Β Β βIf being with a woman he loves isnβt worth his reputation, then he is ridiculous. He is stupid.β Dieu said and headed inside with Hugo. βIβd let him be with lady Morzse if he isnβt that way.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/N and Caleb then positioned themselves on the dance floor, his eyes glaring straight on her wide ones without saying anything. She canβt read it, or maybe sheβs just in a state of shock.Β
Β Β Β Β Β And then the music began, their bodies began moving along the rhythm as everyoneβs eyes were on them. Physically, she can feel his strong presence, she can feel that he is in control of their movements, that he is the one leading everything and sheβs just there, staring wide-eyed at his glaring pair.Β
Β Β Β Β Β His eyes didnβt leave hers, it was visible from the crowd, their tension. However, no one said a thing, not even a whisper. Itβs as if everyone understands whatβs going on. βCaleb, are you alright?β Y/N gathered up all her courage to speak, breaking the awkward silence filled with stares.
Β Β Β Β Β βWhat do you think?β He responded, spinning her around.
Β Β Β Β Β βAre you angry? At Dieu?β She asked another question making him scoff.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βThatβs what you think?β He responded with a sarcastic tone and Y/N hummed. That made his eyes leave their staring contest, looking around the place to find that certain man who made his blood boil. However, he couldn't find him so he looked at her eyes again. βYou must talk your husband to be into minding his words, Morzse.β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/Nβs eyebrows raised in confusion, βI donβt understand, why are you so raged? You and Dieu had an argument over nothing.β
Β Β Β Β Β βNothing? That man is trying to provoke me.β Caleb angrily responded.
Β Β Β Β Β βInto what?β
Β Β Β Β Β βInto blowing his brain out with every bullet I have.β He said, βThat manβs been getting on my nerves. He doesnβt know the things I can doββ
Β Β Β Β Β βViolence, Caleb, I do not like that. Stop speaking like you are going to harm someone in front of me.β She tried to wind down the anger thatβs building inside him. βI donβt care about what you can do, or what you want to do. I donβt want to hear it.β
Β Β Β Β Β He scoffed, βFine, Iβd shoot him when youβre not looking.β
Β Β Β Β Β βThatβs not what I meant!β She angrily responded, βI donβt understand why youβre so mad, you usually know how to talk back.β
Β Β Β Β Β Suddenly, his eyes met with the pair of that man, Dieu along with his fancy people around him, watching them dance specifically. Without thinking, Caleb placed his right hand behind her head and pulled inβ his lips meeting hers with his eyes closed.
Β Β Β Β Β Everyone saw that, everyoneβs in a state of shock. Some eyes are wide, some of the jaws are dropped on the ground, some are too stunned to speak to the person next to them. Even the other dancers almost tripped upon seeing that.Β
Β Β Β Β Β βIs this real, what Iβm seeing?β
Β Β Β Β Β βGoodness, somethingβs finally happening with the colonel!β
Β Β Β Β Β βThis is huge news!β
Β Β Β Β Β Dieuβs eyebrows angrily knotted themselvesβ how could he do that in front of everyone just to provoke him? Just to mock him? How can he kiss a woman without even a hint of intimacy? How could he do that to lady Morzse?
Β Β Β Β Β Celene and her husband stood up from their seats in shock when they saw that, βI knew itβ¦ I knew it!β Celene exclaimed and looked at her husband with the widest grin. βThereβll be another wedding held soon, I am sure!β
Β Β Β Β Β βThe colonel! The colonel kissed lady Morzse!β
Β Β Β Β Β Y/Nβs eyes are wide, but then he pulled away before staring at her eyes. βW-What are you doing?! Why did you do that?!β Y/N whispered but the colonel just smiled a little. βThisβll create huge news! People would talk about us!β
In his life as a vigilante, Bruce could count on his fingers the time his body acted without a prior thought. This was one of them. He barely registered his body diving two seconds before his daughter did, adrenaline pumping into his veins, to the point he could hear an agonizing whistle in both his ears, heart beating so fast it ached his chest in response.
Adjacent to him her body fell, eyes closed waiting for impact. How many times a father has to lose his children in order to break? Bruce doesn't know. He definitely doesn't want to know. For all these years, he glued together whatever place in him that was broken so his children could stand tall and yet here he is again. The day Bruce rescued you was the day he decided to become the safe haven you never had, it was his duty. His way of redeeming himself to you, though he knew no matter what he did, nothing could take back the years you lost in the hands of those two damned criminals.
His hands flew forward, fingers grazing at the hospital gown you wore before gripping the material with all the strength he could gather. The fabric didn't have time to tear, as he brought you closer to his body, hands locked around your body as if you would vanish at any moment. Seconds later to having your body, Bruce used the grappling hook, which now held both of you, descending slowly and safely towards the ground.
Your body was limp on his arms, having passed out during your fall. Bruce was dizzy, hands trembling both around the hook and around your body, it felt like Bruce himself was about to pass out too as the adrenaline left his body. His throat was closing, the sensation of having swallowed a ball of nails, he made no effort to stop the tears in his eyes. He understood now. They were targeting him with the only thing that could take his sanity away, the safety of his children.
βDad! Dad, please!β- Jason called, voice frenetic through the comms.- βY/N, she-β
βShe is safe, Jay.β- Bruce interrupted his son. His arm is tightening around you even more.
On the rooftop the young man felt his knees give in, hitting the ground with a βthudβ, his trembling hands coming to cradle his own face in relief. Jason could only stand up again after a few minutes, when his strength came back. He promised to protect and yet he fell hopeless in this cliff called despair again. Weak.
Reaching the ground safely, Bruce laid your body in one of the walls and turned himself, emptying his stomach after the sudden burst of adrenaline. Though it was only a moment before the haunting voice filled the comms again.
βFeel fear, Batman.β
That was the only thing the man said before hung up. This was the outcome Scarecrow always wanted. You were his undeniable most successful subject, the very first one to make the bat feel fear. How delightful this is.
Cradling your body in his arms again, Bruce told the others he was going to bring you back home. He no longer could ensure your safety in that hospital.
Hide and seek with your mother has always been your favorite game. You didn't know if it was because she always found you or if it was the tickle session after it that made you love it so much. Always so bright, so loving. There were times that, after playtime, mom and you would eat cookies and ice cream on the small porch of your house. It was precious, and it was yours.
I miss you, mama.Β
A low uncomfortable sound came out of your mouth as you opened your eyes. The light passing through the curtains made your retina sting. Beside your bed Tim, who you came to know as a new sibling, poured a bit of water on a cup and offered it to you. Your body feels stiff as you reach for the cup, eyes scanning the space which you recognized as one of the manors room.Β
βWe brought you home.β- He said simply after noticing your confusion. You nodded and soon your brother helped you sit on the bed.- βAlfred will bring food soon.β
The younger one seemed a bit shy, after all you hadn't met him before, yet he did his best to accommodate you. Knocking on the door frame, Bruce made his presence aware, his eyes on you as he asked Tim to let the two of you alone for a moment. He came closer, sitting at the edge of your bed.
βIβ¦ I have not been good to you, my daughter.β- His voice trembled, fingers fidgeting in anxiousness.- βIt is my fault you had to pass through this.β
You felt your breath shuddering. Why? Why now? After all that, why now? Why? Your eyes sting as tears begin to gather in them. You want to scream, to yell, to ask, to be your old self who wasn't afraid to say things to him. But now⦠now you are broken. Broken things don't talk back, that's what you learned. So why? Why does your throat feel clogged with words that wouldn't come out of your mouth?
Hyperventilating, the air refuses to stay in your lungs, the blanket feels heavy over your legs, the room too small for whatever feeling is taking place in your chest. Noticing your state, Bruce reaches out to you, tucking you in his arms. His tears fell on you as well as yours soaked his shirt. Your hands punched his chest, but your body was too weak for it to hurt, yet he did nothing to stop you.
βI won't ask for you to forgive me. I canβt even dare to think of it, but at least let me protect you now.β- The words barely came out of his sobbing mouth.- βPlease, I know I don't deserve it, but don't take this from me.β
Your trembling hands stopped the punches, instead reaching for his hand, tracing letters on his palm.
βWhyβ¦ Papa?β
βWhy? Because I'm a fool. A fool who breaks what he is supposed to protect. I'm not worthy of any of this. Not your love. Not Jason's love. But, just this once, can you trust papa? Just one more time.β
The whole manor could hear your cry, pained, broken. Inside the room, you held Bruce's shirt as if your life depended on it, nodding your head at your father. Emptying your heart through your tears, Bruce kissed your forehead as he thanked you for the chance.Β
βJustβ¦ oneβ¦ moreβ¦ timeβ
The letters revealed the last time you decided to lay your heart on your fathers embrace.
CHP. 001 βββ and all of my devotion turns violent.
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The world we live in is built so that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer β that much you understood before you even knew how to put it into words. It was just the way things were, as natural and as cruel as the rain that soaked through your clothes or the winter wind that bit at your skin until you couldn't feel your fingers anymore.
You'd learned it from the moment you could think, from the moment your tiny, developing brain had finally started making sense of the chaos around you.
Your mom β your beautiful, exhausted, selfless mom β would work herself to the bone just to put something, anything, in your stomach. You'd watch her come back to your alley with trembling hands and hollow eyes, pretending she wasn't hungry, pretending she'd already eaten, when you could see right through her. Her ribs stuck out more every week. Her collarbones were sharp enough to cut. And yet she'd still smile at you like you were the only good thing this world had ever given her.
Meanwhile, the rich folks in their clean clothes and clean houses would look right through you like you were part of the pavement. Or worse β they'd exploit her. Pay her half of what they promised. Swindle her out of her few coins with contracts she couldn't properly read and terms she didn't understand. Take her small efforts and crush them underfoot without a second thought.
You learned fast.
By the time you were seven, you'd already figured out that this world was shit. Pure, unfiltered shit. And literally no amount of wishing or hoping or begging or being a good little boy was going to change that.
You had been born on the streets.
Not in a hospital with bright lights and crying nurses and a warm blanket β just right there, in a dirty alley not so different from the one you called home now, with your mother's pained gasps echoing off the brick walls and some old woman passing by stopping to help because she had a warm heart, even if the rest of the world didn't.
The streets had raised you; they'd taught you which merchants were easier to steal from, which alleyways offered the best shelter from the rain, which corners to avoid when the drunks stumbled out of the bars at closing time. The streets had taught you that there was no place in this world for people like you.
People without money. People without power. People who were born in the dirt and would probably die there too.
But you had your mother.
She was the one good thing. The only good thing. Your entire world reduced to a single, frail woman with light brown eyes that still managed to hold warmth even when her body had nothing left to give. You loved her more than your own life; more than the idea of a full stomach, more than any dream of a better future that didn't include her.
If someone told you you could have a warm bed and three meals a day for the rest of your life, but it meant leaving her behind, you wouldn't even consider it.
For her, you would steal. Your small hands had already learned how to slip into pockets, how to grab a loaf of bread from an unattended stall, how to melt back into the crowd before anyone could catch you.
( You were getting better at it, too. )
For her, you would hurt someone. You'd only had to do it once so far β a man twice your size who had grabbed your wrist when you'd reached for a piece of fruit. You had bitten down on the man's hand so hard you'd tasted blood, had kicked and clawed and screamed until the shock had loosened the grip enough for you to bolt. You'd run four blocks before your lungs burned and your legs gave out, but you'd kept the fruit clutched against your chest the whole time.
( Your mother had cried when she saw the bruises forming on your arm. You'd told her you'd just tripped. )
For her, you would die. That was the easiest promise you'd ever made to yourself. If someone ever put a blade to your throat and said 'your life or hers', there wouldn't even be a moment of hesitation. Not a single second of doubt.
( You'd take literally whatever they gave you, as long as she kept breathing. )
And for her, you would kill. Again and again and again if you had to. The thought should have scared you β you were only seven, after all, a child who still had baby teeth and had never grown past most other boys your age β but it didn't. It sat in your chest like a stone, solid and unmoving. If anyone ever tried to take her from you, if anyone ever hurt her, you would find a way. You didn't know how yet. You didn't have the strength or the skill or the reach; but it's okay, because you'd grow, and you'd learn.
( And when the time came, you wouldn't hesitate. )
Because this woman β this fragile, starving, endlessly loving woman β was your entire world. And the rest of the world could burn for all you cared, as long as she was safe.
"Mom."
Your voice was barely above a whisper as you crouched down beside her. Your disheveled brown hair fell into your eyes the way it always did β you'd been meaning to cut it with your knife, but there never seemed to be a good moment for it, and honestly, you liked that it hid your face a little; it made you harder to recognize.
"Mom. Open your eyes."
For a terrifying moment, she didn't move. Her chest barely rose and fell beneath the thin, hole-ridden blanket you shared, and you felt something cold slither into your stomach and coil there. No. No, she's just sleeping. She's just tired. She always gets tired.
"...Hmm?"
Relief washed through you so intensely it almost made you dizzy.
Your mother's eyelid fluttered, then slowly opened, revealing that warm light brown you knew better than your own reflection. It took her a little second to focus, her gaze drifting across your face like she was trying to remember where she was, who she was, what was real.
"Oh," she breathed, and even that single syllable sounded like it cost her something. "My love. It's you."
"Of course it's me," you tried to smile, but it came out a little wobbly around the edges. "Who else would it be?"
She didn't answer. Her lips curved upward slightly, that familiar gentle smile that had been the only constant in your entire life, but it was weak. Everything about her was weak these days. The more you looked, the more your chest ached with something you couldn't quite name β something heavier than sadness, sharper than fear.
Your mother was lying on the hard ground of your alley, the cobblestones cold even through her thin clothes. The blanket you shared was more holes than fabric at this point, and it didn't seem to be doing much to stop her shivering. Her body looked so small underneath it. Smaller than you remembered. Her cheeks were hollowed out, the bones beneath her skin far too prominent, and when she breathed, you could count each rib rising and falling. Her lips were cracked and dry, the skin flaking in places, and you'd noticed yesterday that her tongue would stick to the roof of her mouth when she tried to talk.
She was thirsty. She was hungry. She was slowly wasting away right in front of you, and there was nothing you could do about it exceptβ
I can do something, you reminded yourself firmly. I always do something.
"Mom," you reached out, your small fingers brushing the hair away from her forehead.
Her skin was too warm, then too cool, and you didn't know which was worse.
"I'm going to go get you something to eat. Okay?"
Her eyes, which had started to drift closed again, opened a little wider. "You don't have toβ"
"I know," you cut her off gently, the way you'd learned to do when she was too tired to argue but too proud to simply accept help. "I know I don't have to. But I want to. You need to eat, Mom. You need to drink something. And I'm not going to just sit here and watch youβ"
You stopped yourself before the words could finish. Watch you die. Watch you fade away until there's nothing left. You swallowed them down and forced your voice to stay steady.
"I'll be back soon. Don't move from here, alright? Just stay right where you are."
She let out a soft breath, something between a sigh and a laugh, and the sound made your heart clench. Even now, even like this, she was trying to smile for you. Trying to be strong for you. As if she didn't realize that she was the one who needed protecting, not you.
Her hand moved slowly, trembling with the effort, reaching up toward your head. You leaned down immediately, lowering yourself so she could reach without straining. The gesture was so familiar it felt like coming home β the way her palm settled against your messy hair, the gentle ruffling motion that she'd done a thousand times, ten thousand times, ever since you were small enough to fit in the crook of her arm. Her fingers were bony and cold, but the warmth behind the action seeped into you anyway, settling somewhere deep in your chest where you kept all the things that mattered.
This simple gesture could say so much more than words ever could; You are loved. You are strong. You are the reason I keep going. You are the best thing I ever did.
You felt your lips curve upward, a real smile this time, small but genuine.
You'd do anything for this woman. Anything at all.
"I'll be back soon, Mom," you said again, because you wanted her to believe it, wanted her to hold on until you returned. "I promise."
"Be careful, my love," her voice was so soft you almost missed it, barely more than a breath. Her fingers lingered in your hair for one more second before falling back to her side. "I'll wait for you here. I love you."
You leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin against your lips.
"I love you even more, Mom."
That was the truest thing you'd ever said.
You loved her more than food, more than safety, more than the vague, distant dream of a life where you didn't have to steal just to survive. You loved your mother more than anything this world could offer you, and you always would. From the moment you'd opened your eyes for the first time, through every scraped knee and empty stomach and cold, lonely night, she had been there. She had been enough.
And now it was your turn to be enough for her.
You pulled back slowly, giving her one last smile before getting to your feet. Your mother's eyes were already closing again, her body surrendering to exhaustion, and something in your chest tightened painfully at the sight. But you couldn't think about that now.
You couldn't afford to think about that now.
The seven-year-old boy turned away from the only person who had ever mattered, and your expression shifted as you did. The softness drained from your face, replaced by something harder, something colder. Your small hand slipped into the pocket of your torn, worn-out pants, fingers brushing against the handle of the knife you'd found on the ground a few weeks ago. It wasn't much β just a short blade, a little rusty, the handle wrapped in fraying cord β but it had saved you once before, when a group of older kids had cornered you near the market. You'd pulled it out, held it in front of you with shaking hands, and they'd laughed at you until you'd slashed one across the arm. They hadn't laughed after that.
You'd used it only when you needed to defend yourself. Today, though, you had a feeling you might need it for more than that.
No, you corrected yourself as you started walking. Not might. Will.
Because today you were stealing for her, and that meant you couldn't afford to run if you got caught, couldn't afford to simply drop what you'd taken and bolt. You'd have to hold on, no matter what. You'd have to fight, if it came to that.
Your fingers tightened around the knife handle, and you felt something settle in your chest. Not quite fear, not hesitation; just a quiet, steady certainty.
Your mother was hungry. Your mother was thirsty. And you were going to fix it, no matter what it cost you.
The world was already shit anyway.
What was one more scar?
The market in the neighboring district was the same as it was every day β packed with people weaving between stalls, voices layering over each other in a constant hum of haggling and chatter, the smell of fresh bread and fish and cheap perfume all competing for space in the air.
These weren't the wealthy types who lived in the gated parts of the city, the ones with carriages and shoes that never wore thin. But they weren't like you either. They had enough to buy, enough to eat, enough to sleep somewhere with four walls and a door that locked.
They had just enough to look down on people like you without ever admitting it to themselves.
And they did. They always did.
You had learned to read it in the way they crossed the street when they saw you coming, the way their eyes slid over you like you were a simple piece of garbage they didn't want to step in, the way mothers pulled their children closer when you passed. You were only seven years old, small even for your age, thin enough that your wrists looked like they might snap if someone grabbed them too hard β and still, they looked at you like you were something dangerous, something dirty, something less than human.
Good, you thought, pressing your small body deeper into the shadows between two large wooden crates behind a row of stalls. Let them be scared. Let them look away. It only makes my job easier.
From your hiding spot, you had a clear view of most of the market. Your brown eyes moved methodically, scanning each stall one by one, cataloging which merchants were distracted, which ones had customers lingering, which ones had their goods arranged in a way that would make it easy to grab and go. You'd been doing this long enough that it had become almost instinctual β like a game you'd played so many times you didn't have to think about the rules anymore.
That one's too alert. That one's got a kid about my age hovering around β probably looking for the same thing I am, but dumber about it. That one...
Your gaze landed on a fruit stall about fifteen meters away, run by a middle-aged man with a round belly and thick, calloused hands. The man was currently leaning against the counter of his stall, talking animatedly to a woman who looked like she was trying very hard to pretend she was interested in what he was saying.
And the fruit. Oh, the fruit.
Peaches and strawberries, arranged in neat rows that caught the morning light just right, their colors so bright they almost didn't look real. The peaches were a soft orange-pink, the kind that gave just a little when you pressed your thumb against the skin, and the strawberries were deep red, the green leaves still attached, probably picked that morning if the merchant knew what he was doing.
Your mouth watered. You could almost taste them, you could almost see your mother's face when you brought them back to her β the way her tired eyes would light up, the way her thin lips would curve into that smile that made everything else in the world feel a little less awful.
Peaches were her favorite. Strawberries too.
She'd told you once, a long time ago, about the summer before you were born when she'd worked at an orchard for a few weeks, and the owner had let her take home a basket of fruit at the end of each day;
"I ate so many peaches that summer," she'd said, laughing in that soft way of hers. "I thought I might turn into one."
You had been too young to really understand what she was talking about, but you'd never forgotten the way she'd looked when she said it β like she was somewhere else, somewhere warm and safe, somewhere where her stomach was full and her body didn't ache all the time.
You were going to give that back to her. Maybe not the orchard, maybe not the summer, but the peaches and the strawberries; a few days of not having to worry about where her next meal was coming from.
"Okay," you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible even to your own ears.
You tightened your grip on the plastic bag you'd stolen from one of the other stalls on your way in β a crumpled thing that had been tossed aside after someone bought a loaf of bread. You'd grabbed it without even thinking, your little fingers moving automatically, the way they always did when you saw something useful that wasn't nailed down.
"I'll take enough to feed Mom for a few days."
The crowd around the fruit stall was thick enough to hide you β a handful of people waiting to be served, plus the usual foot traffic of people just passing through. You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar calm settle over you, the one that came right before you did something you knew you shouldn't; it was almost peaceful, in a strange way.
Everything else faded out. There was only the target, the path to it, the exit.
You straightened up, making sure your messy brown hair fell forward enough to cover most of your face. Your small hands were buried deep in the pockets of your worn-out pants β your right hand wrapped around the handle of your knife, just in case, and your left hand holding the plastic bag close to your thigh, hidden from view.
Don't rush. Don't look at anyone for too long. Don't give them a reason to remember your face.
You started moving, your body weaving through the crowd with the ease of someone who had spent his entire life learning how to be invisible. You were really small, yes β smaller than most kids your age, your growth probably stunted by years of not eating enough β but that worked in your favor here. People tended to look over you rather than at you, their mean eyes sliding past like you were just part of the background; a dirty kid, a street rat, simply something not worth a second glance.
Good. Keep looking away. Keep ignoring me. That's exactly what I want.
The fruit stall owner was still talking to the same customer, his voice carrying over the noise of the market in that particular tone merchants used when they were trying to squeeze a few extra coins out of someone.
"βand these peaches, madam, these are the best I've had all season. From the Takahashi orchard, you know the one? Very exclusive. Very high quality. I'm practically giving them away at this priceβ"
You slipped behind the stall, your thin body sliding through the narrow gap between the counter and the crate beside it. You moved without a single sound, your worn shoes barely touching the ground as you positioned yourself directly behind the merchant's back.
He's busy. He's not paying attention. He won't even notice I'm here until I'm gone.
From where you stood, the stall was laid out like a map in your mind; the merchant was on the right, his broad back turned as he gestured enthusiastically at the woman in front of him. The peaches and strawberries were on the left, stacked in shallow wooden crates that sat just below the level of the counter. It was easy to reach, easy to grab.
Your eyes darted around one more time, scanning for anyone who might be watching; a pretty woman was arguing with a vendor three stalls down about the price of fish, two old men sat on crates near the entrance of the market, smoking and talking about nothing, and a young mother was trying to keep her toddler from grabbing at a display of brightly colored fabrics.
No one was looking at you. No one ever looked at you.
Your left hand moved, pulling the plastic bag from your pocket and opening it with the practiced silence of someone who had already done this a hundred times before, then your hand reached out, fingers brushing against the soft skin of a peach, and you began.
One peach. Two. Three. Four. Each one dropped into the bag with barely a whisper of sound. Then strawberries β your fingers closed around a handful, stems and all, and you added them to the growing pile. Peach. Strawberry. Peach. Strawberry. Your movements were quick but unhurried, the rhythm almost meditative.
Don't rush. Don't drop anything. Don't make a sound.
The bag filled faster than you expected. You'd been aiming for enough to last a few days, but now that you were here, now that you could see the fruit right in front of you, you found yourself grabbing more; more peaches, more strawberries. Enough for a week, maybe. Enough that your mother could eat until she was full, really full, for the first time in longer than you could remember.
She's going to be so happy, you thought, and the image of her face β her tired, beautiful, too-thin face β lit up from somewhere deep inside your chest. She's going to smile. The real smile. The one that reaches her eyes.
The bag was full now, the plastic straining slightly at the seams. You pulled your hand back, your small fingers lingering for just a little moment on the last peach you'd grabbed β it was a perfect one, soft and golden-pink, the kind your mother would close her eyes and savor like it was the most precious thing in the entire world.
Time to go.
You looked up, checking the merchant's position one last time; he was still talking, still distracted. The woman he was speaking to had finally pulled out her coin purse, looking resigned to whatever deal she'd just been talked into.
You took a step back, then another, your body already turning toward the gap you'd slipped through to get in here. It had taken you less than a minute. Maybe forty-five seconds. That was probably a new record.
Easy, you thought, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Nothing to it. Justβ
"Hey! You there!"
Your blood went cold.
You spun around, your brown eyes locking onto the merchant's face, and oh β that was not a confused look, not a questioning look; that was rage. Pure, unfiltered rage, the kind of rage that made the man's round face go red and his thick hands curl into fists.
Shit. Shit, shit, shitβ
Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth, a sharp sound of frustration that was lost in the sudden noise of the merchant shouting. You didn't stop to think. You didn't try to talk your way out of it. Your body was already moving, legs pumping, the plastic bag clutched tight against your chest as you bolted away from the stall.
"You little brat!" the merchant's voice boomed behind you, loud enough to turn heads all across the market. "Get back here right now! Who do you think you're stealing from?!"
Fucking hell, your mind snarled as you ducked between two women carrying baskets of vegetables, nearly sending them both stumbling. Fucking hell, fucking hell, fucking hellβ
You ran, because that was all you could do.
Your lungs were already burning β you hadn't eaten anything since yesterday, a small piece of bread your mother had saved for you, and your body was screaming at you to stop, to rest, to just let yourself collapse. But you couldn't. You wouldn't. The bag of fruit was heavy against your chest, each peach and strawberry a promise you'd made to your mother, and you'd rather die than let them take it away from you.
"Thief!" a woman's voice shrieked from somewhere to your left. "Someone stop that child!"
"Grab him! The little street rat is stealing!"
You ignored them all; you dodged past a stall selling leather goods, nearly colliding with a man carrying a stack of wooden boxes, and you could hear the merchant's heavy footsteps behind you, closer than you wanted them to be, but not close enough yet.
Just a little further. There's an alley up ahead, just past the fabric stall. If I can make it there, I can lose them. I canβ
A hand clamped down on your shoulder.
The grip was like iron, crushing, and your teeth ground together as pain shot through your arm and down your spine. Before you could even think about pulling away, about stabbing, about anything, your small body was lifted off the ground and slammed down onto the dirty cobblestones of the alleyway you'd been trying to reach.
"Fuck," you heard yourself gasp, the word forced out of you by the impact.
The plastic bag flew from your grip, skidding across the ground a few feet away, and you watched it go with a surge of panic that almost drowned out the pain.
Your teeth were clenched, your eyebrows drawn together, your whole body screaming at you from a dozen different places; your shoulder throbbed where you'd been grabbed, your back ached from hitting the ground, and your palms were scraped raw from trying to catch yourself. But you forced your head up, forced your eyes to focus through the curtain of messy brown hair that had fallen over your face, and you looked at the man who had caught you.
He was huge. That was your first thought. Massive, really β easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders so broad they seemed to block out the narrow strip of sky above the alley. The man's head was completely bald, and his face was covered in scars, old ones by the look of them, crisscrossing his cheeks and forehead like some kind of twisted roadmap. His arms were thick with muscle, probably from years of doing something that required a lot of strength and very little mercy.
Who the hell is this guy? Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. Does he work with the merchant? Is he some kind of... what, security? Bouncer? Since when do fruit stalls have bouncers?
The man was looking down at you with an expression that you didn't like at all. Amusement, maybe, mixed with something darker. Something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
"Ohoh," the man said, his voice deep and rough, like rocks grinding together. "Who do we have here?" He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the cobblestones. "Wouldn't this be the little thief?"
Your jaw tightened. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, refusing to stay sprawled on the ground like some kind of helpless animal.
"Who the hell are you?"
The man's grin widened even more, showing teeth that were yellowed and uneven.
"Well, look at that, he bites," the man cracked his knuckles, one hand then the other, the sound loud and deliberate in the narrow alley. "I'll make it simple. Give back what you stole, and I'll let you leave quietly. If you don't want to..."
He tilted his head, and in the dim light of the alley, the scars on his face seemed to move, shifting like living things.
"If you don't want to, I'll kill you here and now."
Your eyes flicked to the plastic bag, still lying on the ground a few feet away. Some of the fruit had spilled out when you'd been thrown β a peach here, a strawberry there β but most of it was still inside. Still good. Still yours.
Give back the food? The thought was almost laughable. Hell, I'd rather die.
You could see your mother's face again, the way she'd looked that morning, her eyes half-closed, her lips cracked and dry, her body barely able to lift her hand to your hair. She needed this. She needed it. And this bald bastard with his scars and muscles and self-righteous threats wasn't going to take it away from her. Not while you were still breathing.
"Go rot in Hell, you sack of shit," you said, forcing your voice into something cold, even though your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. "You're going to have to kill me first if you really want those fruits."
The man's grin didn't fade. If anything, it got wider.
"Oh dear," he said, and his voice was dripping with mock disappointment. "Kids these days. So rude," he cracked his neck, the sound sharp and final. "They really need to be taught a good lesson."
Your teeth ground together.
Your eyes swept the alley, looking for anything β a loose brick, a piece of wood, literally anything you could use as a weapon or a distraction. But there was nothing; just dirty walls, wet cobblestones, and this mountain of a man standing between you and the way out.
If I charge him now, I'll lose. He's too big. Too strong. I'd have to get close to use the knife, and he'd grab me before I even got the blade out of my pocket.
The thought made your stomach clench with frustration, but you forced yourself to stay still and to wait.
Let him attack first. Let him get close. It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt a lot. But it's the only way.
You didn't have to wait long.
The man's foot swung forward, and you saw it coming β you saw the shift in his weight, the way his leg tensed before the kick β but knowing it was coming didn't make it hurt any less; the boot connected with your stomach, and the world turned completely white.
You doubled over, your arms wrapping around your belly, a soundless cry tearing out of your throat as pain exploded through your entire body. Your vision blurred. Your ears rang. Your stomach heaved, and for a terrifying moment you thought you were going to throw up right there on the cobblestones.
Holy fucking shit, the thought was barely coherent, drowned out by the sheer, overwhelming agony of it. Holy fucking shit, that hurts like hell. That hurtsβthat hurtsβ
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, unwanted, and unstoppable. Your malnourished body had never been built for this kind of punishment. Every nerve was screaming, every muscle was shaking, and all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for it to stop.
But you didn't get the chance.
A huge and hairy hand closed around your throat.
Your eyes flew open as you were lifted off the ground, your feet dangling, your whole body dangling, held up by nothing but that iron grip around your neck. Your hands flew up instinctively, clawing at the man's wrist, trying to pry the fingers loose, but it was like trying to move a stone wall; the man's hand didn't budge, didn't even seem to notice.
And then he slammed you against the brick wall.
The impact drove the air out of your lungs, sent a shock of pain through your spine, and your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth might crack. Your hands kept scrabbling at the man's grip, but it was useless; the fingers around your throat were tightening, squeezing, cutting off your air, and the edges of your vision were starting to go dark.
No. No, no, noβI can'tβI can't breatheβ
The man's face was close to yours now, close enough that you could smell the stale tobacco on his breath, could see the individual scars that marked his ugly skin like some kind of map of violence.
"Hmm? Already dying?" his voice was mockingly sad, as if he actually cared. "Well, I suppose you're the one who will rot in hell. Disgusting little insect."
Your feet kicked out, hitting the man's chest, his stomach, anywhere they could reach, but it was like kicking a brick wall; the man didn't even flinch. His grip tightened further, and you felt something in your throat shift, felt your airway closing, felt the world starting to fade at the edges.
I'm going to die here, the thought came to you with surprising clarity, cutting through the panic and the pain. I'm going to die here, and Mom is going to be alone, and she's going to starve, and no one's going toβ
Your hands stopped scrabbling at the man's wrist, your legs stopped kicking, and your body went limp, your arms falling to your sides, your head lolling forward like a doll's.
The man grunted, sounding almost disappointed.
"Ah, this is fucking boring. I thought I was going to have some fun, but here he is two seconds from dying."
That's what you think.
Your right hand slipped into your pocket; your little fingers found the knife, closed around it, and pulled it out. The movement was small, hidden by your body, hidden by the way you'd gone slack. The man didn't see it, because the man was too busy looking at your face, at your closed eyes, at the easy target he thought he'd already beaten.
You made one mistake, you thought, and you opened your eyes.
The man's expression flickered with surprise, and his grip loosened just a little, just for a second.
And that was all you needed.
The knife swung forward, the blade catching the dim light of the alley, and it sank into the man's side with a wet, tearing sound that you would remember for the rest of your life. The man grunted, his grip on your throat faltering, and you didn't wait; you wrenched the knife out, feeling the blade scrape against something solid β bone, maybe, or cartilage β and plunged it in again, deeper.
The man's hand came up, trying to grab you, but you were already moving, already stabbing again, your arm piston-fast, your mind absolutely blank except for one thing; keep going, keep going, don't stop until he's down.
Again, again, and again.
Each thrust was harder than the last, more desperate, more furious. Blood was spattering across your hand, your wrist, your sleeve, warm and sticky and dark. The man was making sounds now β gasping, choking sounds, not words, just noises β and your teeth were bared in something that wasn't quite a smile, and wasn't quite a snarl.
And then, with a loud cry that tore itself out of the deepest part of your throat without your permission, you drove the knife into the man's neck.
The blade sank in up to the hilt, and the man's eyes went wide β comically wide, you would think later, like something out of a puppet show β and his mouth opened, but no sound came out. His grip on your throat loosened completely, his fingers uncurling one by one, and you slid down the wall, your feet hitting the ground hard enough to jar your knees.
You just stood there, breathing in ragged gasps, watching as the man staggered backward.
One step, two steps, three steps. The man's hand came up to his neck, trembling, and his fingers closed around the handle of the knife still buried in his throat. With a wet, horrible sound, he pulled it out.
The blood didn't stop flowing; it poured completely out of the wound in a thick, pulsing stream, running down his chest, soaking into his shirt, dripping onto the cobblestones. The man opened his mouth once again, and this time a sound came out β a wet, gurgling thing that might have been words once, might have been a plea or a curse or a prayer. You didn't know, and you didn't care at all.
The man fell.
First to his knees, with a heavy thud that you felt through the soles of your shoes, and then onto his side, his body crumpling into a heap on the dirty ground. His legs kicked once, twice, and then stopped. His chest rose, fell, rose again, and then stopped too.
You stood there for a long moment, just breathing. Your small body was shaking β from adrenaline, from pain, from the cold, you didn't know which β but your eyes never once left the corpse in front of you.
He's dead, the thought was strange, distant, like it belonged to someone else. I killed him.
You should have felt something. Fear, maybe. Or guilt. Or horror. You were seven years old, you had just taken a life, that was supposed to mean something, wasn't it? That was supposed to change something inside you, break something, leave a mark that never really healed.
But all you felt was a strange, quiet satisfaction. And something else, too β something that flickered in your chest like a flame catching on dry wood. Something that felt, almost, like pure joy.
The little boy pushed himself off the wall, his legs unsteady but holding. He took a step toward the body, then another, until he was standing over it, looking down at the face that had been so smug, so confident, so sure that he could do whatever he wanted to a kid from the streets and no one would stop him.
You bent down and pulled your knife out of the man's neck; the blade was slick with blood, the handle sticky, and you wiped it methodically on the man's shirt, watching the red smear across the dirty fabric.
"So," you said, and your voice came out steady, calm, almost amused. "Who's rotting in Hell?"
A smile spread across your face, but it wasn't like your mother's smile; the gentle, warm one she gave you when she ruffled your hair. It wasn't the small, hopeful smile you'd worn when you were filling the bag with peaches and strawberries. No, it was something else entirely β something sharp and bright and hungry, something that made your eyes gleam in the dim light of the alley.
This feeling. You let it wash over you, let it fill up the empty spaces in your chest, let it chase away the fear and the pain and the exhaustion. This feeling is incredible.
You felt alive; more alive than you'd ever felt in your seven years of life. Every single nerve was singing, every breath was sharp and sweet, and the blood on your hands didn't feel like a weight, but more like a promise. You wanted to feel this again. You needed to feel this again.
Your eyes drifted to the bag, still lying where it had fallen, the fruit scattered around it like jewels on a dirty floor.
"Oh," the adrenaline was starting to fade now, leaving behind a dull ache in your body and a strange emptiness in your head. "Yes, that's right. Mom. She's hungry."
You walked over to the bag, your movements careful, and bent down to pick it up. You gathered the fruit that had spilled out β a peach that had rolled almost to the wall, a strawberry that had gotten crushed under someone's shoe, a few more that were still clean β and put them back in the bag; most of them were fine, most of them were still good.
She's going to eat tonight, you thought, and the image of her face came back to you, soft and warm and real. She's going to eat, and she's going to smile, and she's going to be okay.
You tucked the knife back into your pocket, the blade clean but the handle still damp against your skin, then you straightened up, the bag of fruit held close to your chest, and started walking toward the mouth of the alley.
The little boy didn't look back at the body; really, it wasn't worth looking at. It was just meat now, just a pile of flesh and bone that had been in your way. The world wouldn't miss it. No one would come looking for it. Men like that didn't have people who cared about them.
You stepped out of the alley and into the fading light of the afternoon, the sounds of the market still humming in the distance, and you let yourself smile again; a small smile this time, and a real one.
I've got blood on me, you realized.
You looked down at your shirt, at your hands, at the dark stains that were already starting to dry, and your mother was going to see that, and she was going to worry. Yeah, you'd have to come up with something. A lie, maybe. Something simple, something she'd believe without asking too many questions.
I'll just tell her a rat attacked me.
You almost laughed at that. After all, it wasn't entirely a lie; there had been a rat in that alley. A big, ugly, scarred rat that had tried to take what was yours.
And you had completely crushed it.
The walk back to your alley felt longer than usual, your legs heavy and your body aching with every step, but you didn't stop. You couldn't stop. Every time you thought about slowing down, about resting for just a little minute, you pictured your mother's face β the hollow cheeks, the cracked lips, the way her eyes had looked when she'd said 'I'll wait for you here' β and you kept moving.
By the time you reached the familiar entrance to your alley, the sun was already starting to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reminded you, strangely, of the peaches in your bag.
You paused at the entrance, your brown eyes looking down at yourself; your shirt was stained with blood β not a lot, but enough that it was noticeable. Your hands were worse, the blood already dried into brownish-red crusts around your nails and between your fingers.
She's going to see this, you thought, and for the first time since you'd killed the man, something that might have been fear stirred in your chest.
Not fear of punishment, but fear of your mother's worry. Fear of the way her eyes would go wide, the way her voice would tremble, the way she'd try to hide how scared she was because she didn't want to make you feel bad.
You crouched down and rubbed your hands against the rough cobblestones, scrubbing until the worst of the blood was gone, then wiped them on your pants. It wasn't perfect; there were still dark crescents under your fingernails, still faint stains on your skin, but it was the best you could do. Your shirt you couldn't do anything about, but maybe she wouldn't notice in the fading light. Maybe she'd be too tired to see.
Or maybe she'll see and she'll know, a voice whispered at the back of your mind. Maybe she'll look at you and see exactly what you are.
You pushed the thought away and walked into the alley.
She was where you'd left her, lying on the hard ground with the thin blanket pulled up to her chin. For a horrible moment, you thought she hadn't moved at all, that she was still exactly as you'd left her, and you felt your heart seize in your chest. But then her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head toward you, and the smile that spread across her face was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds.
"My love," she breathed, and her voice was still weak, still thin, but there was something in it that made your chest ache. Relief, maybe. Or love. Or both. "You came back."
"Of course I came back," you knelt beside her, setting the bag of fruit carefully on the ground, and reached out to brush the hair away from her face. "I told you I would."
She reached up, her hand trembling, and cupped your cheek; her fingers were cold, but her palm was warm, and you leaned into the touch without meaning to.
"You're hurt," she said, and her brow furrowed slightly with worry. "Your shirtβis that blood?"
"Rat," you said quickly, the lie coming easily. "A rat attacked me on the way back. It was a really big one. But I got away. I'm fine."
Oh, she didn't look convinced.
Her eyes searched your face, looking for something β the truth, or just the reassurance that you were okay β and you held her gaze, keeping your expression open and honest, the way you always did when you were lying about something that would make her worry too much.
"Are you sure?" she asked, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone. "You're not hurt anywhere else? You didn'tβ"
"I'm fine, Mom," you turned your head and pressed a kiss to her palm, feeling the roughness of her skin against your lips. "I promise. Now look what I brought you."
You pulled the bag of fruit into your lap and opened it, reaching inside and pulling out one of the peaches. It was a good one β perfect, really, soft and golden-pink, with a small bruise on one side that didn't matter at all. The little boy held it up so she could see it, watching her eyes go wide, watching her lips part in surprise.
"Peaches," she whispered softly, and her voice cracked on the word. "Y/N, where did youβ"
"I got them for you," you placed the peach in her hand, closing her fingers around it gently. "I know they're your favorite. I got strawberries, too. Enough for a few days."
She stared at the fruit in her hand, and for a moment she didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even seem to breathe. Then her chin started to tremble, and her eyes filled with tears, and you felt something twist painfully in your chest.
"Don't cry, Mom," you said, reaching out to wipe away the tear that had started to roll down her cheek. "Please don't cry. I got them for you. You're supposed to be happy."
"I am happy," she said, and she was laughing now, a wet, shaky sound that was half a sob. "I'm so happy, my love. I justβ" She pressed the peach to her chest, holding it like it was made of gold. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."
You didn't know what to say to that.
You didn't think she'd done anything; she was just your mother. She was just the woman who had given you life, who had loved you even when there was nothing else to love, who had starved herself so you could eat, who had held you when you were cold and kissed your scrapes when you were hurt and told you stories about orchards and summer when there was nothing else to give you.
If anything, you were the one who didn't deserve her.
But you didn't say that.
Instead, you watched as she brought the peach to her lips, as she took a small, tentative bite, as her eyes closed and her expression shifted into something that looked almost like prayer. She chewed slowly, savoring it, and you felt something loosen in your chest. Something that had been tight for so long you'd almost forgotten it was there.
"It's good?" you asked softly, even though you could see the answer on her face.
She opened her eyes, and the smile she gave you was brighter than anything you'd ever seen.
"It's perfect, my love," she said, and her voice was steadier now, stronger. "You're perfect."
You smiled back, and for a moment β just a little moment β you let yourself forget about the blood on your shirt, the knife in your pocket, and the body lying in an alley two streets away. You let yourself just be a little boy, sitting with his mother, watching her eat a peach.
This, you thought. This is exactly what I'd kill for. This is what I'd die for. This is what I'd keep killing for, as many times as I have to.
And you knew, with a certainty that settled into your bones and stayed there, that you would do it all again. Tomorrow, if you had to. The next day. Every day, for the rest of your life, if it meant she could keep smiling like that.
You reached into the bag and pulled out a strawberry, holding it out to her.
"Here," you said. "Try this one next. It's even sweeter."
She laughed; a sweet little laugh, one that made her whole face light up, and took the strawberry from your hand.
"You're spoiling me," she said, but she ate it anyway, her eyes closing again in that same look of pure, simple joy.
You simply watched her, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt something that might have been hope; small, maybe a little fragile, but definitely there.
Maybe this world isn't completely shit, the little boy thought, as his mother reached out to ruffle his hair with the hand that wasn't holding a strawberry. Maybe there's still something worth fighting for.
The sun set behind you, painting the alley in shades of gold and red, and you sat with your mother until she had eaten her fill, until her eyes grew heavy and her hand fell still in your hair, until her breathing evened out into the rhythm of sleep.
Then, and only then, did you let yourself close your eyes.
Your last thought before sleep took you was of the man in the alley; the way his eyes had gone wide, the way his blood had pulsed out of his neck, dark and thick and, soaking everywhere into the cobblestones.
I'd do it again, you thought, and the smile that tugged at your lips was not a child's smile. I'd do it a thousand times. For her, I'd do anything.
And in the darkness of the alley, with your mother's soft hand still resting on your head and your knife still hidden deep in your pocket, you slept.
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