bezsenna

tell me a story to sleep (walking the earth since 2001)

[purpleopium5]

if eyes are the windows of the soul then let's make a draft.

[mooncakepoptart]

[calllynx]

Op turned off reblogs but I MUST

[rumiroo]

Girls with daddy issues

When they meet an actual daddy

Did he need to do any of that? No. I deeply appreciate it, though. Also, he's an uncle. Ever since I read Ninth Uncle, I can't look at older male love interests who are potentially uncle figures without thinking of the potential bedroom play, so there's that. 👀 This whole, fake life savings debt, telling your nephew to pretend to be her saviour thing is going to 100% come to bite him in the ass and I am going to enjoy it immensely.

[dedolubka]

Lately, work and writing have been taking up most of my time, but here's a Maleficent crossover for you 😋

the backgrounds took me the longest, I hate them

[whimsydaydreams]

Sworn to Her - Prologue

Knight!Zayne × Princess!Reader

warnings: mentions of death, grief, fluff word count: 6.2k

“Zayne!” the Princess gasped and giggled at the sight of the macarons in the little boy’s hand. He had two; a pink and blue one he swiped from the royal kitchens. 

“Shh,” he handed her the pink one, watching with green eyes as she took a bite and hummed, delighted. “Don’t tell anyone!”

The two kids hid in a corner of one of the many palace corridors. For as long as they could remember, they’ve always had each other. Even at only five and six years old, they were practically glued at the hip. He was the son of a knight. The Captain of the Royal Guard, to be specific. She was the Princess, dearly beloved by her people and others abroad. 

“We should get another one.” she suggested after finishing the desert, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Sure enough, minutes later, they were at Lilith’s feet. They looked up at her with their gleaming, hopeful faces, begging for another sweet treat. 

The girl tugged at Lilith’s apron, “Please, Lilith? Just another one!” 

Zayne stood to the side, knowing that Lilith wouldn’t deny the precious Princess. But still, he eagerly nodded along. 

Lilith sighed, shaking her head with a fond smile toying at her lips. She tried to conceal it, but it was tough to hide with the two kids using their charm against her. “Fine,” she gave in, handing them another macron each.

A pause, and then she handed Zayne another one. “Only if you promise to give that one to Xander.” 

Zayne—ever the serious one, even at five years old—nodded solemnly. “I promise.” Then the kids were off out the kitchens. The Princess’ giggles filled the air as the knight’s son trailed behind her. 

Soon, they were outside the blacksmith’s forge. The Princess knocked on the door—once, twice, thrice. On the third knock, it opened. Xander stood there, some tool in hand, as he looked down at the little ones of the palace. 

“For you,” Zayne held up one of the macarons. “From Lilith.”

The blacksmith took it with a smile, popping it into his mouth. He invited the kids inside, welcoming them into his place of work. This was a regular occurrence for Zayne. Oftentimes, his father would be out on missions, so he’d linger around Xander. At first, he was sceptical about keeping a child so young around him, but Zayne proved himself to not be reckless. For the Princess, however, this was a rare treat. She hardly had the chance to be around the blacksmith and see his work.

“I’m working on a new sword for your father,” Xander explained, walking them over to the table where he was engraving the hilt. 

Zayne peered at the half-finished sword on the table. “How heavy is it?”

“I bet I could pick it up.” the Princess commented, rising onto her tippy toes to see it. Her little fingers grasped the grip, and all the strength she could muster, she willed it to move.

It barely moved an inch.

“Here,” Zayne stepped closer, his hands beside hers now. He’d seen his father do this a thousand times. “Like this.”

Together, with all the strength two children could muster, they lifted the blade an inch—maybe two—off the table.

The Princess beamed. “We did it!”

Zayne smiled, cheeks pink with pride he didn’t understand yet. 

Xander shook his head, a smile spreading on his face. “You two will run this kingdom one day.”

“We already do,” the Princess playfully scoffed, flipping her hair and crossing her arms.

In a way, it was true. Where one went, the other followed. Dessert thieves. Secret conspirators. They grew, as children do. The Princess would walk everywhere she pleased, and Zayne would follow, half a step behind her. As seasons passed and trees lost and regained their leaves, they grew taller, smarter, and impossibly closer.

Late spring was the Princess’ favourite time. The flowers were in full bloom in the royal garden, the sound of birds singing filled the air. Usually, she’d be up in the branches, worrying Zayne with the fear of her falling. Today though, was different—she hadn’t climbed up a single tree and instead walked along the garden path with her hands folded behind her.

“No climbing trees today, Princess?” Zayne inquired, hiding his smile as she walked on her tippy toes, pretending to be taller than him.

They were eight and nine now, and the Princess was the same height as Zayne for the first time. She hoped to grow taller and surpass him, just so she could tease him for being shorter than her.

She sighed in response to his question, shaking her head. “Mother said I can’t get my dress dirty.”

“Why not?”

“King Oscar is coming and he’s bringing his son, Prince Caleb.”

Zayne nodded, unsure of what to make of the news.

“I haven’t met a Prince before.” she admitted, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Just as Zayne was about to say something, the Queen interrupted. 

“There you are!” she walked over, extending her arm for the Princess to take. “King Oscar has just entered the gates. They’ll be here any minute!”

The Princess held onto her mother’s hand, but glanced at Zayne before turning to her mother. “Can Zayne come too?”

The Queen agreed, and the three of them, along with King Gentry, waited by the palace entrance. Not soon after, a carriage came into sight, and stopped in front of them. King Oscar emerged, along with Prince Caleb.

Prince Caleb was a carbon copy of his father, chocolate brown hair and sunset-purple eyes. Even though the boy was only eight-years-old, it was clear he was someone who was used to attention. It was obvious just from the way he carried himself.

As King Gentry met with the Princess’ parents, the Queen nudged the Princess. Remember your manners. 

She curtsied, bowing her head.

“You must be the Princess of Astraheim,” Prince Caleb smiled once she rose. He took her hand and placed a kiss on it.

She nodded shyly. “You must be Prince Caleb.”

Zayne didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew one thing for certain: he did not like Prince Caleb.

“I have a gift for you!” Caleb exclaimed suddenly, digging in his satchel and pulling out a s lil mall pouch. He handed it to her. “Father said that Princes must always give gifts to Princesses. I hope you like it.”

She opened up the pouch, revealing a necklace. Simple, nothing too fancy—a gold chain with a small, diamond pendant. “It’s very pretty,” she traced the diamond with her finger. “Thank you.”

Caleb smiled, a small, shy one. Zayne cleared his throat. He did not like this feeling. The Princess turned to him, sensing his discomfort. 

“This is Zayne.” she said brightly. “He’s my best friend!”

Zayne awkwardly extended his hand towards Caleb. The Prince took it and shook his hand. The knight’s son accidentally squeezed the Prince’s hand harder than necessary. 

Zayne did not like Caleb. 

“How about you show Prince Caleb around the palace?” King Gentry suggested to the Princess and Zayne. Listening to the King’s suggestion, Zayne and the Princess started walking, with little Caleb trailing behind them.

Years passed, like they always do. The Princess grew into her royal training, and Zayne delved into the journey to knighthood. Where they once spent every waking moment together, now they lived in hurried whispers and chaste goodbyes. Zayne spotted her walking along one of the corridors, heading to her chambers after her Princess Etiquette Class.

Without thinking, he pulled her aside into a corner, his hand on her arm as he leaned in close to whisper. “Princess,” he started, a small smile on his face. When was the last time they snuck around together? Neither of them could remember. “Come to the gardens with me tonight?”

The Princess took note of how he was taller than her now, almost a full head. She realized she’d never surpass him in height. She was tired, of course, but she’d sacrifice any amount of sleep to be around him like before.

The Princess nodded, much to Zayne’s relief.

“I’ll see you by that old tree?”

She knew exactly which one he meant. When she arrived, she saw Zayne sitting on the bench, two pastries in hand. He handed one to her when she approached. A freshly baked, warm, puff pastry. 

His hand brushed hers as he passed it. Neither of them mentioned it. 

“How’d you–?”

“Lilith.”

The Princess shook her head fondly, sitting down next to him. “I should’ve known.” 

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, but was really only twenty minutes. The Princess realized she should be heading back before anybody discovers she’s missing from her chambers. 

“Thank you for the pastry,” she turned to Zayne, “I really should get going.”

He understood duty better than anyone. Yet still, a subtle frown tugged at his lips. 

Of course she noticed; she notices every detail. She just wishes there was something she could do about it.

“I miss being around you.” Zayne admitted softly, looking down. For a twelve-year-old boy, especially one training for knighthood, vulnerability was not common. 

“I do too.” She reassured, matching his soft tone. “Meet again on Thursday?” 

He nodded, watching as she stood from the bench. “I’ll see you then.”

Secret garden meetings turned into a regular occurrence, and that’s how they coped. Sometimes, only one of them showed, other times, both. But even routines built with the utmost care can break. 

One evening, Zayne didn’t come. 

The Princess waited at that bench for hours. The sunset turned to night—the birds stopped chirping and the crickets started singing. She sat there, fiddling with the fabric of her skirt. Night air nipped at her skin, causing goosebumps to rise on her uncovered arms. 

He’s just late, she convinced herself. Told herself he’d come running down that path like he always did. 

He didn’t. 

It happened again the next night. And then the night after that. Four days and he hadn’t shown up; she hadn’t even seen his face around the palace. She was getting worried. 

The first time he didn’t show up, she chalked it up to him being tired from training. The second time, she concluded he must’ve forgotten. The third… maybe he was busy with chores? The fourth time, she lost hope and dragged herself back to her chambers with her head hanging low. She stopped going down to the gardens and instead started waiting on her balcony.

“Lilith,” the Princess stopped by the royal kitchen, “have you seen Zayne?” 

Lilith knew what had happened, of course. But, she didn’t have the time to sit down and explain it to the worried Princess. 

The maid shook her head, a sorry smile on her face. “Ask Xander, maybe he knows.”

One, two, three knocks on Xander’s door and he opened it up. 

She got right to the point before the blacksmith could get a word out. “Where’s Zayne?” 

His lips turned into a line as he invited her inside. “Princess…” he hesitated, closing the door. “You might want to sit down for this.”

“Sit down?” She was getting irritated, yet tried her best to hide it. “Why-?”

“Captain Jace,” Xander started, unsure of how to keep going. There was no easy way of saying this. “Was gravely injured in battle. Zayne hasn’t left his side.”

She was stunned. “Is he…?”

The blacksmith shook his head. “They’re saying he won’t have long.”

She doesn’t remember the next few hours; it was all blurred together. With her skirt gathered in her fists, she was rushing down the hall to the infirmary. The nurses denied her entrance, saying only family was permitted.

Only family. 

She stood there, breath uneven, staring at the closed doors as if sheer willpower could force them open. They stayed shut. Voices murmured on the other side—healers speaking in tense whispers, footsteps moving quickly, the muted sound of someone crying.

None of it belonged to her. Slowly, she stepped back. The corridor felt colder than the gardens at night. Her hands trembled as she smoothed the front of her dress, trying to pretend she still had control over something, anything. She didn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, Lilith knocked on her door. “He passed during the night.” She broke the news, dressed in black. Her voice was tired. “The funeral is in a few hours. You should get ready, Princess.”

It could be felt in the air. Captain Jace had been a loyal servant for decades—long before either of the kids were born. Astraheim felt still; she could feel it even though she hadn't stepped outside yet. The sunlight didn’t feel warm, and the corridors were empty instead of being filled with laughter. 

“Do you have any macarons, Lilith?” The Princess suddenly spoke, soft and quiet.

“Macarons? I don’t understand…”

“Just one would be enough.”

Lilith didn’t question further. “I’ll see what I can do.” and then she left the Princess’ chambers, closing the door behind her. 

The day moved on without her permission. She got ready, adorned in a simple black gown, hair cascading down her shoulders. The funeral arrived quicker than anticipated—it was closed casket. 

She caught sight of Zayne. She didn’t expect him to approach her, or to even look at her, but she still allowed herself to hope. Some might say it was foolish, but she missed her best friend. 

It seemed like he grew older in the four days they spent apart. His hair wasn’t as neat, the skin around his eyes was darker. The corners of his lips turned down. 

She hadn’t realized she was staring, and she didn’t remember when he turned to her. They locked eyes from across the room. 

He stared like she was his only anchor. 

Of course, they didn’t get a chance to interact at the funeral. Shortly after the ceremony, Zayne disappeared to his chambers. 

The Princess, after getting that macaron from Lilith, followed after him. 

She knocked, twice, before he opened the door. 

“Zayne-“

She didn’t have time to finish her sentence before he engulfed her in a hug, his silent sobs causing his shoulders to tremble. 

Her arms wrapped around him without a second thought, holding him. 

He pulled away, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry,” he let out, attempting to control his breathing, and in turn, his crying. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” her hands slid down his arms, her voice gentle and warm. “Not to me, anyway. I brought you something,” she revealed the treat. Macarons were Zayne’s favourite. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe it would help. Even a little.”

He took the macaron from her fingers, his hand brushing against hers once more. 

“It does,” he whispered. “Thank you.” 

A silence settled over them. Not awkward, just… heavy. 

A knock echoed from down the hallway, followed by the stern voice of one of the knights, “Zayne. The King wishes to see you.”

Zayne stiffened. She caught it. How could she miss it?

Duty. Responsibility. All of it hitting him at once.

He looked at her one last time. She wanted to hug him again, to pull him back into the quiet safety of this room, but she didn’t.

Instead, she whispered: “I’ll see you later?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

But they both felt the shift—subtle but sharp. Something was changing. And neither of them knew how to stop it.

That night, she went back to the garden once more. 

Zayne didn’t come that night. 

The next morning, she couldn’t find him anywhere. She went to the King, wondering what was so important that he had to discuss with Zayne.

“I was just offering my condolences and support.” he brushed her off, but she knew he was bluffing. She didn’t press further, knowing it would be futile. There’s no point in arguing when your father’s the King. 

Zayne didn’t show up the next night either. 

The Princess waited, just like before. She’d stay out as long as she could before she couldn’t handle the cold anymore. She’d even bring two pastries, just in case he’d forgotten to eat, begging Lilith for them.

But now, the winter months were approaching, and she couldn’t handle the cold nights like she could in the earlier seasons. Instead of going out the garden every night, she started spending an hour or two outside on her balcony before bed. This way, she could still wait for him and have a view of the gardens. 

He just needs time, she’d rationalize, grief changes people. 

Zayne has changed; there’s no doubt about it. 

She’d catch glimpses of him around the palace. Zayne hanging out with senior knights. Zayne carrying a bundle of spears. Zayne polishing armour with an old rag. 

Training, she assumed, consumed him. He had that air of quiet, desperate intensity to him. He spent his mornings in the barracks, afternoons in the sparring yard, and evenings assisting knights twice his size. She understood duty better than anyone. Her etiquette tutor had doubled down on her ever since the funeral. 

“A great princess never disappoints her people.” her tutor said, over and over, until it was embedded in her bones. Her public appearances had doubled, and she had started traveling abroad. People would come from far and wide to see the Princess of Astraheim—she was truly beloved by the people. But understanding still hurt. 

Sometimes he’d acknowledge her. Small glances. A quick nod. The ghost of a smile she used to know. They barely saw each other apart from quick, polite greetings passed in the hallways.

At feasts, she’d see him stationed beside her father, posture straight and expression unreadable. Even though he was only a year older, it seemed like more. Sometimes she’d swear she’d catch him staring, but as soon as their eyes would meet his gaze would go elsewhere. 

In the softest part of her heart, she wondered if this is what growing up meant. Does growing up always mean growing apart? Would they ever return to how they used to be? A year and a half passed before they spoke—truly spoke— again.

The Princess spotted him at the Midsummer Festival out in the village, standing rigid beside some senior knights. They were old friends of his late father. Zayne looked older now. Sharper. His training had chiseled away the softness of boyhood, at the softness she once adored. It carved away at him and left behind angles she didn’t recognize and shadows beneath his eyes she wished to vanish. 

He was a knight, just without the title. She wondered if he still laughed the same.

As the festival was nearing its end and the villagers started drifting away, the music quieted and the Princess escaped to an alleyway. She was relieved to be alone, only accompanied by a stray cat purring at her feet. Alone at last—until she wasn’t. Zayne caught a glance of her petting the cat, and decided to go up to her. 

She noticed him instantly.

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. The air went still, thick with tension.

“Zayne–”

“Princess–”

She giggled. He let the corners of his lips turn upward, just slightly.

“…Princess.” His voice was deeper now, still gentle, but no longer the boyish tone

she remembered. Zayne bowed briefly, too formal for someone who used to steal pastries for

her.

She hated the bow. Hated the formality.

“You don’t have to call me that when it’s just us, you know.” she said quietly. 

He hesitated—and that hesitation cracked something inside her. “I wasn’t sure if I

could,” he admitted.

She blinked. “Why wouldn’t you?”

Zayne exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that made him look

ten-years-old again. “You’re busy. And I’ve had training. And after my father…” he trailed

off, swallowing the words he couldn’t say. “I didn’t really know how to be around you

anymore.”

Her chest tightened. She broke eye contact, looking down at where her fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her dress where the bodice connected with the skirt. “You could’ve just come to the garden.”

“I did, twice. You weren’t there.” he murmured softly, taking a breath before

continuing. “I figured maybe you’d moved on.” Zayne added, now looking at the cobblestone

beneath them instead of at her. 

Wait… twice? What is he talking about? 

She shook her head, looking up at him once more. When did he get so tall? 

“Twice? When?” her head cocked to the side as they made eye contact once more. “I went out every night, but you stopped showing up…”

“The first time, Xander stopped me.” he explained, taking a breath that raised his shoulders. “He said it was too late and you’d be asleep already. The second time, I bumped into the King on the way to the garden. When I told him where I was going, he forbade me and ordered me back to my chambers.”

She felt a flush of frustration. “Forbade you?”

He nodded. “He… he didn’t tell you?”

Zayne could see the way her jaw clenched as she looked down, back at the cat rubbing itself against her feet. The sound of her teeth grinding against one another answered his question.

The junior knight took another breath, eyes fixated on the orange fur of the cat. “You’ll be Queen one day. And I’m… I’m just trying to be a knight worthy of serving you.”

A minute passed before the Princess responded, leaving Zayne worrying he said the wrong thing. When she spoke next, her words were quiet and carefully chosen. “You were never just anything to me.”

His head lifted. Their eyes met—really met—for the first time in forever. The ache in

his expression nearly knocked the breath out of her.

“Zayne,” she stepped closer. The cat by her feet meowed in protest. “I’ve missed you.” her voice was so quiet the faintest of wind could’ve blown it away. The words hung between them like a fragile ribbon.

“I’ve missed you too.” he sighed, like a great weight was lifted when the confession left him. Then, his jaw clenched. “If I let myself be around you the way I want to be… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

She didn’t know what that meant yet; not fully, at least. She swallowed, offering the smallest of smiles. “Then… don’t stop.”

For a beat, nothing happened. Then—very slowly—Zayne stepped closer. Only half a step, enough to make her aware of the scent of leather and metal that clung to him. It was different from the lavender and warm pastries she associated with him.

“I’ll walk you back to your chambers,” he decided

This time, the formality didn’t feel like distance. And for the first time in a year and a half, they left together. Slowly, their garden meetings came back. It wasn’t as regular as before, but they managed. Every so often, he’d swipe pastries from Lilith again, sharing them with the Princess on that old garden bench. 

One day while her tutor was teaching about… posture? Or maybe composure? The Princess wasn’t listening—she sat at her desk, chin on her palm, mindlessly drawing on the corner of her parchment. 

Lady Alice, the tutor, noticed she was drawing rather than taking notes. 

“Princess,” she snapped her fingers in front of the girl’s face. That got her attention, and quick. Before the Princess could stop it, Lady Alice snatched the paper. Instead of seeing her notes, she saw doodles of hearts in the corner. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing—!” the Princess felt her face flush with embarrassment. 

Maybe she should’ve skipped class today. 

“Uh huh,” Lady Alice, shooting the Princess a knowing look. The friendship between her and Zayne was no secret to the people who lived in the palace. “I hope you’re not hoping for this to progress anywhere. You’ll end up marrying for duty, not love.”

The Princess realized, at that moment, how much Zayne meant to her. She wasn’t getting married any time soon—why couldn’t she pursue him?

For Zayne’s sixteenth birthday, she requested Xander to forge him a sword. Complete with carvings on the hilt and a royal red sheath, it was truly a piece of artwork. She waited in the garden like numerous times before, the early September air still warm even though the sun had dipped below the horizon.

She saw Zayne approaching, and she quickly stood from the bench to greet him. Zayne had two cupcakes this time, both decorated with pale blue icing. 

“Happy Birthday,” she said, the both of them biting into the cupcakes. 

“Father’s been talking about knighting you soon,” the Princess told Zayne, walking towards the bench. She had wrapped the sword in a dark cloth beforehand. Picking up the sword, she stepped back towards Zayne, holding it out to him. “But don’t tell him I told you.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by whatever’s in her hands. 

“Open it!” she encouraged, stepping closer. “It’s your birthday gift.”

Tentatively, he reached for the sword, unwrapping the cloth from around it. The way his eyes lit up when he realized what it was made her stomach flutter.

“Princess… this,” he swallowed, his fingers running over the intricate engravings on the hilt. It was perfectly balanced, sharp as glass, and a show of true craftsmanship. He was starstruck, to say the least. “This is exquisite.”

She gave him a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist. Instantly, his hand came up to cradle the back of her head, his nose pressed against her hair while his other hand held the sword. 

I love you. “I love it.” he breathed out, inhaling the flowery scent of her hair. “Thank you.”

A week later, there was a royal gala. The Princess couldn’t care less for the reason for it, all she cared about was how she could feel Zayne’s eyes on her all night. He lingered by the walls, observing and people watching, not making any movies.

Truly a knight, only without the title. 

“Zayne,” she went up to him when she saw him at the dessert table. “Honour me with a dance?”

He turned to her, a grin playing on his lips. One of those charming boyish ones, reminding her of the boy who’d sneak around the halls with her. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?” 

She shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t care. Come dance.” She took one of his hands in both of hers, gently pulling him towards the center of the room. “Please.”

How could he deny her when she looked at him like that? Big, pleading eyes that sparked with the light of the chandelier. She wore a pink ballgown, complete with delicate jewellery and the tiara refracting and reflecting light. 

“I don’t know how to dance…” he admitted sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’ll teach you,” she decided, tugging on his arm again. “It’s not hard. Let’s go to the garden.”

Once in the sanctuary of the garden, she began her lesson with him. “Okay, hold my hand,” she extended her left hand. 

He took it, taking a step closer to her. 

“Good,” she stepped closer as well. “Now, place your other hand on the bottom of my shoulder blade.”

Zayne placed his hand on her waist, stepping closer so they were almost chest-to-chest. He held her carefully, like she was made of fragile porcelain. 

That works too. 

She placed her free hand on his shoulder. “Okay, now step your left foot back—wait, your right foot—okay good! And turn your body like this.”

“Perfect! Now step your feet together—yes, you’ve got it—and step your other foot out and turn your body the other way.”

They managed to fall into a clunky box step, both of them looking down at their feet, trying to coordinate their steps to the faint music from the ballroom. Soon enough, they were flowing with ease, timed with the tempo of the slow music being played by the orchestra.

Zayne let go of her waist, twirling her around before pulling her back to him, his hand returning to its spot on her waist.

Her laughter filled the air. “Wait, I wasn’t expecting that!” Their eyes met and the Princess’ giggles slowly dispersed, a giddy smiled still adorning her face. “You’re a fast learner.”

He leaned in, cheeky, whispering, “I had a good teacher.”

The yellow glow from the lanterns surrounding them casted a halo; it caused Zayne to look older and younger all at once. And the Princess? Well, anybody could tell she was royalty just by glancing at her.

Zayne’s heart fluttered against his ribcage, like a bird in a cage. 

They settled into a new rhythm, still matching the orchestra’s symphony. 

“I have something to tell you,” she broke the comfortable silence.

He blinked. “Funny—I have something to tell you too.”

Slowly, their steps came to a halt. They stood there, in front of their old bench, surrounded by the various flowers and trees of the royal garden.

“You go first.” the Princess looked up at him. 

“I’m getting knighted,” he exhaled, looking down and breaking eye contact. He looked up before he continued speaking. “Your father—the King, told me yesterday. He plans to do it at the Winter Solstice.”

Winter Solstice… oh.

Yet still, she was thrilled for him. “Zayne, that’s amazing!”

He didn’t seem excited. Not even happy about it. 

“Why do you look like someone told you terrible news?”

“I’m not ready,” he whispered like it was blasphemy. “I don’t feel like I deserve it. And because-“ he stopped himself, jaw clenching and teeth grinding. “Because everything is changing.”

She swallowed. Hard. That lump in her throat didn’t seem to go down. “I have something to tell you too.”

He looked up, eyes filled with worry. “What?”

“I’m… leaving.” the word was heavy. Still, she tried to make it sound casual, graceful—princess-like.

She was failing horribly. Taking in another breath, she continued. “Lady Alice and I are going to Zarmitia. A diplomatic trip. I’ll be gone until March.”

“You’re visiting Prince Caleb?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice to not break. 

“When do you leave?”

“Day after tomorrow…”

His body went sharp, his fingers tugging at the fabric at her waist. He pulled her closer, until they were chest-to-chest. Her hand let go of his, moving to cup his jaw like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hand joined the other at her waist, holding her to him.

Together for just a little bit more. 

“I… I know it’s far,” she murmured, “and long. But I’ll write to you.”

“You say that like letters could replace you.” a slight pout graced his lips as his eyes looked between hers. 

The words came out before he could stop them. Her breath stilled. Their eyes met, their breaths lingering in the air. He uttered her name like a sacred prayer and the air left her lungs. 

“I don’t know how to act around you anymore,” he admitted quietly, his green eyes flickering between hers. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to feel. Or want.” 

The Princess couldn’t hear anything over the sound of her heart in her ears. “What do you want?” 

He hesitated. Maybe for longer than he should have.

Then, a singular word, “You.” 

They didn’t think—they just moved.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. Testing the waters, it was nervous yet desperate. It was a question. She answered by committing. The kiss was soft and trembling, filled with every wish and every almost. His hand slid to her jaw; hers fisted at the fabric of his tunic. He pulled away, his thumb brushing her cheek. 

“Princess, I…” his voice left him, replaced by a ball in his throat. Was it a mistake? Gods, he hoped not. 

“Do it again.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

It was everything. Everything they had been too young and too scared to say. Shy at first, both being too tentative, they slowly figured it out together. They didn't know how long they stood like that, kissing as if the world had shrunk and it was only them remaining. 

Until—

“Princess?” Lilith’s voice called faintly. Neither of them heard.

Then again, but sharper. “Princess—oh!”

They broke apart so violently Zayne tripped on the gravel. They held their hands behind their backs, embarrassed like school children caught doing something wrong. 

Her face burned. Thank the Gods it was dark.

Another voice followed, “Where did these damn kids go—? Oh.” Xander stood behind Lilith, eyes wide before he understood. 

The Princess wanted to wipe that grin off his face. 

“I—um,” Zayne panicked, praying no one could see the way his cheeks and ears were dusted crimson.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Xander and Lilith gave each other knowing looks, folding their arms over their chest. 

“S-Sorry—I should go,” Zayne stumbled over his words; a rare sight for everyone.

“Zayne, wait—“

He took her hand, looking up at her as he placed a chaste kiss on it. “Forgive me, Princess.”

He bowed—far too formal for something that just happened—and turned to walk towards Xander. He looked back, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

Her fingers trembled by her lips where his warmth still lingered, watching as he walked away from her. She willed him to come back—just another kiss, please—but he didn’t.

Zayne and Xander made their way inside the palace.

Lilith’s eyes softened as she walked up to the Princess, “It’s late, Your Highness. We should get inside.”

“Yes,” she cleared her throat and nodded, hands curled into fists and now at her side. “Inside. Of course.”

She didn’t see Zayne the next day. 

Once more, time moved against her will, and much too quickly for her liking. Before she knew it, she was bidding her parents and the villagers of Astraheim goodbye, getting onto the carriage that would take her to Zarmitia. 

She didn’t get to give Zayne a proper goodbye.

“Princess!” Prince Caleb’s voice filled her ears upon her arrival. He had been ecstatic for this visit. They hadn’t seen each other in at least two years. He welcomed her with a kiss to the hand, followed by a warm hug. 

“It’s nice to see you, Princess Caleb.” She curtsied, bowing her head in politeness. 

Over the next few months, he showed her around his kingdom. This was the Princess’ first official visit to Zarmitia. Caleb took her horseback riding to the woods, went out and about to greet the villagers, and even went to local festivities. 

While she was grateful, she would rather spend time with Zayne.

On the Winter Solstice, he was all she could think about. Zarmitia had its own ceremonies and traditions for Winter Solstice, but she was zoned out most of the time, her mind wandering back to Zayne getting knighted.

I wonder what Zayne had for breakfast. Does he have the sword I gave him with him? I should get him a souvenir from Zarmitia. 

Her mind was Sir Zayne this, Sir Zayne that. She tried her best to conceal it—and it seemed to work! Caleb was too excited to notice her inner turmoil, and Lady Alice was busy with other dutiful things. 

“When will you be back?” Caleb asked her before she went back on her carriage the next spring. 

“I’m not sure,” she told him honestly—the only thing on her mind was going back home. Back to Zayne. “Write me letters?”

Prince Caleb nodded, letting her climb into the carriage. He bowed, a bright smile on his face. “Safe travels, Princess.”

Upon her arrival back to Astraheim, her people were happy to have their Princess back. They held a celebration, filled with music and laughter and dancing. She attended, of course, but kept her eye out for the knight with dark hair and green eyes. She didn’t catch sight of him. Not even a glance. 

When she returned to her chambers after a long day, it was the same way she left it. Everything was in its place, aside from one thing. There was something on top of her bedside table. She walked over, seeing something carefully wrapped in cloth, secure with a bow of twine. Beside it, sat a letter. The Princess decided to unwrap the object first.

Undoing the bow and pulling back the cloth, it revealed a stunning dagger. Perfectly balanced and perfectly carved. It was obvious it was Xander’s work. It was a gorgeous piece of art; the hilt was white with gold engravings, matching the cross guard. Upon further examination, she discovered the pommel had a flower carved into it. It was a peony—the flower of Astraheim. 

She set the dagger down. Careful and cautious. She turned her attention to the parchment. She’d recognize that handwriting everywhere. 

Unfolding the paper, she read what was inside.

I’ll see you again, Princess

—Z

series masterlist | chapter one (coming soon!)

wanna be in the taglist? lmk! :)

[xelle-ll]

With a dry throat and 1 thought in your head, you got out of bed.

It took you a little too long to realise the sweet smell of fresh pancakes in the air. Before even noticing, your body moved towards the source of the smell. It felt a little like a nightmare how long this hallway was while you were hungover and desperately needing to see who in the kitchen was making breakfast like a saint.

Eventually, zayne came into view. Standing in a cute flowery apron with no shirt underneath and more muscle than honestly anyone needed. He flipped a pancake then sprayed a tiny bit of whipped cream onto his finger which he licked off.

The sugar fiend, still too polite and well mannered even in private. Not like the rest of us who would spray too much of the whipped cream straight into our mouths like cavemen who had been deprived of sustenance for weeks.

He hadn’t noticed you were there and it gave you the chance to stand there and savour this domestic moment because these weren’t very common around here. Not for someone who had been so closed off for so long.

It felt a little strange to have Zayne be the one to open up about his feelings first and ask you out. It was something you needed though after your history of being so open and kind to everyone. You made sure to be there with good communication and too often it was used against you. So you stopped doing it all together. Then Zayne came and broke that wall down.

All that is history now though.

Zayne turned to grab something and saw you stood by the door. A handsome smile made its way onto his face as he saw his beautiful partner.

—————————

A/N: I havent written anything in years bro and this is old asf. I’m testing to see if my page still gets activity lmao. If you wanna see more of this, lemme know.

[polkastar]

You being curious about how a stethoscope works and Zayne teaching you by letting you use it on him. He’s staring at your concentrated face while directing you and you’re just so cute. His ears are red and it’s slowly creeping onto his face.

“Wait, I think I hear it! Hold on your heart’s going kinda quick.”

You look up at his face and grin with realization, hand freezing on his chest.

“Zaynie are you nervous?”

“Ahem, not at all, as your teacher I need to make sure you understand all conditions of the heart.”

You wink, “I think your condition is love sick then.”

Don’t repost and i hope u liked!

[yuki-snowyblobbu]

❄️ 100 days of Zayne - Day 39/100

[Continuation of Vampire Zayne AU - first part >> day 21, previous part >> day 38]

Zayne slowly releases you from the hug and holds your hands, he looks into your eyes and says with the utmost sincerity and gratitude, “thank you.”

He leans down and this time, he doesn’t stop at your forehead. One of his hands cup your chin, gently tilting it upward, while the other supports you from behind, pushing you closer to him.

His lips meet yours and you feel your whole body melt into him. You blush and giggle, all sorts of happy, euphoric emotions and feelings bubbling to the surface.

“I love you,” you confess.

“I love you too,” Zayne replies and kisses you again, deeper and longer.

You taste the usual mints on his lips, and a hint of something sweet, and distinctly lemony.

“Zaynie…” you say breathlessly when you break from the kiss, “did you have some lemon tarts without me?”

He looks to the side sheepishly, “yes, they… offered some samples…”

“Okay then the tarts in the fridge are all mine now,” you declare, and then burst into laughter at Zayne’s expression before you add a “just kidding!” and give him a kiss as an apology.

[To be continued, here (day 40)]

A/n: I’m attempting a 100 days of Zayne challenge! The goal is to post something about Zayne everyday - no min/max word count, and it can be about anything or with anyone as long as Zayne is involved. It’s all in good fun and I hope you’ll enjoy reading the posts as much as I’ll enjoy writing them ☺️

[feelthemadnessinside]

Grand Duke!Zayne and you are so loud during sex that there is an unofficial consensus among the staff to avoid your wing at night completely, and most of the times during day after finishing essential housekeeping💀;

The heavy oak door to your chambers had barely clicked shut before Zayne's lips found your neck, his large hands already working at the laces of your nightgown.

"You're impatient tonight, Your Grace," you breathed, though you made no move to stop him.

"Hush." His voice was a low rumble against your skin. "I've been in council meetings for six hours listening to the old baron droning about grain taxes. Let me have this."

It doesn't take long till both your moans shadow the ominous creaking of the bed and the rattling of various ornaments in the room.

...

Your two handmaidens, Elara and Mina, look up as they hear the noise, before facing each other and shaking their heads, scurrying out before they traumatise their poor ears.

"I swear by the gods," Mina whispered, her cheeks flushed crimson even as she pressed a hand to her chest, "last week I went up to fetch my embroidery scissors. I forgot he'd returned from the border. The things I heard..."

Elara winced. "How long did it take you to recover?"

"Three days. I walked past the door at the wrong moment." Mina's voice dropped to a horrified hush.

They rounded the corner into the servants' stairwell, where the stone walls offered blessed, deadened silence.

"The new stable boy asked me yesterday why no one goes to the east wing after supper," Elara said, adjusting her wimple. "I told him it was being renovated."

"Renovated." Mina let out a choked laugh. "That's one word for it."

...

Down in the kitchen, the cook had taken to serving late-night tea with a knowing look and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder for any servant who emerged from the upper floors looking particularly haunted. The head housekeeper had a rotation schedule that mysteriously exempted the entire eastern corridor from evening duties. Even the guards had been known to draw straws for who had to walk the night patrol past the Grand Duke's chambers.

"The chandelier," one guard had whispered to another just last week, his face pale. "I watched it swaying. And no windows were open."

...

Upstairs, oblivious to the quiet terror they had inspired among the staff, Zayne's hand braced against the headboard as the bed (solid oak, reinforced twice by a skeptical carpenter) protested loudly beneath you two.

"Ah...Zayne...the bed..." He drove deeper, hooked his hips just so, and your warning dissolved into a sound that would have made a nun blush to the tip of her toes.

"Don't worry about the bed, my duchess," Zayne growls against your throat. "It's not more valuable than your pleasure."

He hikes your leg up higher over his shoulder and thrusts deeper, dissolving whatever you were about to say into a loud moan. ...

There is a thud and a sprinkle of plaster and ash, and a porcelain vase wobbling dangerously close to the edge of its console table, and your handmaidens, chef and two of the night guards stare at each other awkwardly.

"Do you think," whispered Elara, "they realize we can hear them from the kitchen?"

Mina finishes her tea, and produces a pack of earplugs "Not if I can help it. Take some, and goodnight." she stuffs two into her own and walks back to her quarters.

[princesspeachi3]

how should we punish someone who knowingly commits the crime of teasing zayne?

content: silly n suggestive. spanking mentions and background brat mc/brat tamer zayne. it’s definitely testing that suggestive label tho…. they need to get a room.

“do you think if we slapped hard enough it would leave a cute print?”

you wave the hairbrush around lazily, laser-focused on the plastic pastel details adorning the handle as if you hadn’t just thrown out a suggestion that made zayne’s kneecap clash against the table.

the head of the brush itself is star-shaped and so incredibly charming; a trinket with your favourite mascot characters printed on the backside of it stares back at you when you smile.

you reshuffle from your position on the sofa when you receive no response, a movement that may seem normal to others but is purposefully done as a form of protest. and zayne knows that, of course he does, which is why he sweeps over your form so prettily adorning the sofa.

you look comfortable and warm and so sweet.

he doesn’t understand how you come up with half the things you say.

and even though you’re menacingly waving about what zayne had purchased as an honest gift for you with no ill-intentions whatsoever, you’re still the picture of plush comfort that zayne longs for from his view at the dining table.

he’s been busily typing away, the bundles of textbooks and almost-empty plate of treats have been keeping him company and barely soothing the aching distance between the two of you. and as much as he would like to join you and dismantle whatever this conversation is, he needs to focus if he wants to keep buying you gifts that you, inevitably, wildly use inappropriately.

when you still hear no response despite your very obvious disapproval of such silence, you glance back to find zayne far too engrossed in his work.

…but you think you can see a smidge of pink on the tips of his ears, and that’s enough to spur you on.

zayne can try all he likes to pretend as though he isn’t paying attention, but the man clearly hasn’t met you if he thinks that’s enough to deter you from (lovingly) pestering him.

you don’t have a lot of shame really, not when you have, arguably, the most handsome man in linkon city wrapped around your finger. willingly, too.

so, you make quick work of tugging your bottoms and panties just over the rump of your ass.

it’s ridiculous really, but it’s a necessity nonetheless.

a quick peak behind shows zayne ever so composed-looking, which should unnerve you, except he’s stopped snacking on whatever sweet treats are even left on that plate.

being with zayne for as long as you have has turned you into a spoilt brat really. it’s the only explanation that can provide some sort of reasoning behind why you wiggle slightly, why you twist to reach an arm behind and—

“it’s such a shame… oh well, i guess i’ll have to find out myself.”

smack.

you grip and rub the stinging area, letting our little gasps that are in no way exaggerated, before raising the brush and trying again.

this time is quicker than the last, a resounding clap emanates as soon as the end makes contact with your cheek. there’s a slight red mark now, but it’s by no means in a star shape like you had hoped.

your voice is laced with innocence, sickly sweet as you croon, “that’s so unfortunate, i really thought that would work. don’t mind me dr. zayne, i’m just doing scientific research. hope it’s not too loud.”

and finally, the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard reaches your ears. one exasperated sigh later and you hear him say, “…you really have a way of distracting me.”

there’s a creaking sound, and then light, quick footsteps make their way over. you finally grace him with your sweetest smile, virtue feigning in front of your mischievous gaze.

“well you’re coming over, aren’t you? clearly it’s working,” you assert, tongue in cheek as zayne’s expression hardens in the same way you act innocent. there’s no bite to it of course, only a quiet warning that you barely pay attention to.

his practiced bored expression works beside the lazily way he takes in the view as he strides over to you, as though he’s seen this plenty of times before and isn’t affected by your brazen display at all.

but you know zayne. the way his glasses are tilted ever so slightly, the way his hair has been so clearly ruffled by a hand that lacks restraint and his tie loosened from the tight knot you’d watched him slot it into this morning—he’s a terrible actor when it comes to hiding his desire for you.

he finally reaches you, hovering above you for a moment. it would be intimidating if not for the evident blush pressed into his cheeks. he’s frazzled, and you love that.

there’s another soft sigh, and again the sound thrills you. he murmurs, “yes, because you know my weak points.” as he perches on the little space you’ve deliberately left for him.

you stretch beneath his gaze, and take pride in watching his eyes flit to your undressed state before finding you again.

you’re a bit evil, biting your lip to prevent a smirk from taking hold as you drag the star’s tip against your skin. immediately, his lashes do their best to hide where his pupils follow, but the slight tremor in his hand unveils his secret. “oh? is seeing me touch myself like this a weakness for you, dr. zayne?”

you really do try not to preen, but it’s so hard not to when his ears are practically maroon and he’s breathing so, so deeply. you think he’s about to look at you with seemingly uninterested eyes once more, if only to tease and drag this cat-and-mouse play further, but he doesn’t bother.

no, instead zayne almost grins at you as he stretches a hand out over your aching skin. quick fingers slot between the gaps of your own, finding purchase on the handle. a gentle tug and your eyes flutter in surprise as your grip slackens.

you’ve won this far too early. you should be giggling and teasing him, but the devilish expression on him has you on edge.

“more than you know.”

smack.

a/n: freaked out after all that angst LMAO. potentially putting out another fluffy smutty one tomorrow. NOT AS SMUTTY AS THIS THO!! i did not mean to write all that my bad

explore the peachieverse with me

[hikes-and-moans]

UNPOPULAR OPINION: A lot of "mental health issues" disappear when bills are paid, rent is secure, and the fridge is full. Peace is expensive. And pretending money doesn't affect mental health is privilege.

[bizarrelittlemew]

Are you frustrated you can't leave second kudos on AO3? or third kudos? or whatever-who's-counting kudos?

Well, have I got the html for you!

Plop any of these in a comment (by copy&pasting the code) to make an author's day and show your appreciation!

Second kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/tHMjbb6/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">

Third kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/52bggQH/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">

nth kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6y7qGtC/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">

yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/wKtcj0s/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">

It will look something like this (and will be transparent with white outline on dark backgrounds):

Feel free to spread and use these as much as you like! (and if you have ideas for other variations, let me know ✌️)

[bizarrelittlemew]

So happy to see people enjoying these and spreading the love 💖

UPDATE with some suggestions from the replies!

From requests: cookie kudos — you've already left kudos here — should be sleeping kudos

HTML codes under the cut.

ALL the kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/KsndWzq/all-the-kudos.png" alt="all the kudos">

Chapter kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/9ZSmqrp/Chapter-kudos.png" alt="Chapter kudos">

Elevenses kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6P4JTsP/elevenses-kudos.png" alt="elevenses kudos">

Heaps of kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/GvRw2HS/heaps-of-kudos.png" alt="heaps of kudos">

Kisses your forehead kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6nph6nM/kisses-your-forehead.png" alt="kisses your forehead kudos">

Reading in public kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/f1HDR2K/reading-in-public.png" alt="reading in public kudos">

Re-read kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/jWYQ8bt/re-read-kudos.png" alt="re-read kudos">

Should be working kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/26WJHKg/should-be-working.png" alt="should be working kudos">

Read the whole fic in one go kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/jMHrgSk/the-whole-fic.png" alt="read the whole fic in one go kudos">

Ungodly hour kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/84300T6/ungodly-hour.png" alt="ungodly hour kudos">

What about elevenses kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/WW3cQJ2/what-about-elevenses.png" alt="what about elevenses kudos">

[kimmycup]

Like I don't think you guys comprehend what happened in Poland just now but everyone needs to be talking about it.

A random influencer decided he'll listen to an anti cancer song on loop. People liked it enough times he ended up listening for 9 days.

He raised 90 million in these 9 days, and then 160 million more over the last 10 hours, for a total of 250 million.

Hundreds and thousands of people signed up to donate marrow.

Hundreds of celebrities shaved their heads in solidarity.

The Foundation receiving this money had to create a special commission to figure out how to distribute the money.

The national TV stations got highjacked to stream this for hours because it was better news than anything happening in the world.

Because we broke and DOUBLED the world record for this kind of thing.

They raised about as much as the biggest running charity event in Poland did in a whole year with three decades of tradition and a goddamn army of people.

And they did it on a goddamn amateur set up in a shabby room sitting on folding chairs.

[omiisangel]

two man ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ໒꒱

do not repost to other platforms | been seeing a lot of zuko and geto crossover and wanted to give it a shot! :3

[tonycries]

LET THE WORLD BURN - G.S.

Synopsis. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. You knew of Geto Suguru before he was the Fire Lord responsible for tearing apart the nations, you knew of Geto Suguru before his name was soaked in rage and dragged through battle: the banished prince with a sad smile. You knew of Geto Suguru because…you were his first love. And his only.  And now you’re arranged to marry him. But it’s not a ceremony of love; you want revenge—and Geto carnally needs you.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!Waterbender!reader, Firebender!Geto, Avatar: The Last Airbender AU, Fire Nation prince!Geto, past, best friends once, school shenanigans, fortune tellers, PLOT letters, hurt and comfort, poIitical schemes, Naoya gets what he deserves, Fire Lord!Geto, water generaI!reader, sIight enemies-to-Iovers, best friends-to-Iovers, getting together, arranged marriages, poIitical marriages, peace, wedding nights, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Geto, spítting, p sIapping, fíngering, Geto’s LONG tongue, lNNAPROPRlATE USE OF BENDING POWERS, impact pIay, sIight knifepIay(?), just sorta holding it to his throat, dilemmas, tension, he’s DESPERATE, matíng presses, manhandIing, confessions, REALLY gone Geto, p talking, cIit pinching, teasing, sIight praise and degrad, powers going out of control, creampíes, cúmpIay, sIight cúmfIation, HAPPY ENDING, vioIence and bIood, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 16.0k

A/N. AAAAAAAAAND look where those Zuko scenes get us smh- based on my Fire Lord!Geto headcanon here <3

“There is someone in your heart.”

For the first time since entering Lady Tsukumo’s quarters; you’re alert. The room is oblong and alluring—it wore its candles around the perimeter like jewellery, and swathed itself in a scarf of smoke. The saturated smell of jasmine clung to the air, and you have to shake your head just to focus on the woman before you.

Here, on Mount Inferno, there isn’t much to look forward to. 

The Fortune Teller’s hut drew you in like a mistress, and told you things just as rousing. 

Orange candles leak. Prayer beads rattle. Dissolute shadows dance to an inaudible tune, then creep closer towards you in search of touch. She closes her eyes and whispers to her spirits—around you, the thick smoke screen writhes like a snake. It coils like an ouroboros.

Almost wrapping around your ankles- keeping you in one place. 

As a smile spreads across her handsome face. “You love him, do you not?”

You feel splashed with cold water.

“I…”

“Or perhaps that’s too soon…” She trails off and looks deeply into your palm once more, humming to herself. “Yes, far too soon…”

“I don’t understand.” And you’re sure the hint of crossness seeps its way into your tone- if not, then your expression. This was your third and final year at Mount Inferno, and your friends had finally convinced you to pay a visit to the famous fortune teller—you’d put it off long enough, tomorrow you’d be graduating.

Tomorrow, you’d be leaving this mountain - and everyone you met atop it.

 A long-extinct volcano, though life still bubbled at its peak. 

Columns of paper. Red headbands. The sound and trundle of mastery in pursuit. The best of the best; from all nations far and wide, every tribe, every village, students are summoned to the Fire Nation to study at the ancient Mount Inferno. For three years until adulthood. The school was scattered across the Inferno volcano range, deep amongst curdling springs and prickly growth, the pride of the Fire Nation, with its courtyard situated on the very highest peak. It was a truce between nations- and more than that, an intermingling of the future’s most famed. Some students have gained reputations for their powers before even starting here, and it had been somewhat jarring to see all these big, big names come to real life before you. 

There was the Waterbending child prodigy that turned water into ambrosia - Ieri Shoko. There was the heir to the Earthbending Zenin family, nobles recently handpicked as ambassadors for the Fire Nation royals, pompous yet powerful (you and Shoko dunked him into one of the cold springs on your first day). Even more, there was Masamichi Yaga, the renowned Earthbending master, as your teacher. 

And most of all, there was Geto Suguru: prince of the Fire Nation. 

Or at least, he was in blood.

Though in name…it was murmured and known across every tribe that there was bad blood between the Fire Lord and the prince. He was the sole heir. He was their hope. He was their future- and yet, the first cracks in the picture-perfect royal family were shown when Geto had been sent to Mount Inferno. 

Normally, imperial members were honed to become the deadliest of weapons in the confines of their palaces. Private tutors, techniques, and rigorous training hours you couldn’t even imagine.

No one knew the exact reason, but the message was clear enough.

You yourself had gotten your invitation (more like summons) to Mount Inferno the day after.

Your parents had yelped in joy and told the village elders; the first student in a hundred years to be called from the most revered of the Fire Nation from your little tribe, they celebrated for seven days and nights. 

And on Mount Inferno is where you met Geto Suguru. 

In your first year. Walking along Mount Inferno; head held high and his air untouchable even in punishment. Students - from first-years to third-years - looked but didn’t speak. Hair down to his shoulders, tied. Robes lined with golden. Equally as golden shoes stepped down the gravelly pathway in a painfully trained staccato, and they were just about to pass you like the rest of them before—

A droplet of water leapt out and splashed Prince Geto’s golden shoes.

You and Shoko had just dunked Naoya’s head into the cold springs anew- thrice for talking garbage about women in the first place, once more for each time he refused to apologize. 

You wouldn’t kill the idiot, of course- you’d just teach him a lesson. At fifteen he should know better. 

And this was about the twenty-third time and your arm had grown tired from holding down the stupid aristocrat—but you weren’t going to give up on making him eat his words any time soon, alright? Especially not now. Especially not after all he’d said. It didn’t matter if you had to miss orientation and stay here until Yaga had to drag you away- you’d only go kicking and screaming.

And perhaps ‘accidentally’ throwing a first at the damn Zenin brat who-

“Whaddaya staring at?” So, needless to say, you weren’t the happiest of benders when you caught stopping and staring at you less than a foot away. 

The spring was on one side of the path leading to the courtyard, and any student walking could easily have avoided it altogether - most did. Most flickered their eyes to the commotion and flickered them away even faster, either not wishing to get involved or not wishing to help Naoya of all people. You see, he’d already made an impression.

One that’d left you slightly more than just cranky- “You wanna be next or what?” You glowered at the long-haired boy. You wouldn’t be expelled just for this- you and Shoko doubted anyone would speak on behalf of the Zenin tyrant anyways. Besides, this was before your first lesson, and if you two weren’t recognized as students yet—then there was technically no expulsion to be done, right? 

But to your surprise, Shoko reached across Naoya’s bent-over body to elbow you. “Oi- shut your mouth if you wanna keep it.”

Narrowing your eyes suspiciously at her, “Why?” You’d just met the girl today, but you had an inkling you’d be good friends. 

“Don’t you know who that is-”

“Should I?”

She looked at you with widened, disbelieving brown eyes. And it seemed as though she was about to continue- 

But before that, the boy casually cocked his head to the side. His deep, charcoal-black hair framed his aristocratic face in a way that looked like a picture. “You’re both Waterbenders, correct?”

You and Shoko shared a look. “Yes…?” She answered. Both Waterbenders; though from different tribes - Shoko was of more nomadic origins, the village of water healers. Whilst yours was a quieter, more diminutive tribe of fishermen and marine waterbenders—you grew up with honed steel and the scent of blood. If you cut yourself, then the strongest healer was several villages away. 

The elite-ling before you surely grew up with padded cushions and perfume to make your eyes roll. That irritation weighed down your brows, “What’s it to you?”

His eyes flitted between the two of you, before ultimately resting on you. And to your surprise, he smiled- smiled.

Long and feline.

Ear to gauged ear.

That was the first time Geto Suguru ever smiled at you. Had you known that at some point in your future, those smiles would grow so rare and ravishing, then you would have counted your blessings more scrupulously. 

But back then, you’d merely blinked.

And he’d been feeling a tendril of black hair between his fingers, scrutinizing, before he threw it over his shoulder. “Oh, nothing.” He began to walk off without even a single glance backward, “Seeing as you two are Waterbenders, I was just hoping you two didn’t know that my friend Naoya here has a certain…aversion for sharks. That’s all.”

You and Shoko looked at each other once more.

And it would have sounded like yet another goad- it would have. But you and Shoko looked at each other with a whole new understanding—huh…is that so? And whilst she held Naoya down, you reached your dominant hand out and concentrated on the spring water with all your might. The ripples of it. The drowning texture. Power coursed through you, aqueous, and in the absence of its shape- you bent the water into the shape of a gaping shark underneath. 

And made it dart straight for Naoya dunked underneath. 

Bubbles erupted furiously on the surface of the water as he screamed and thrashed- yet you and Shoko only held him down harder. Held him down until the dagger-like teeth of the ‘shark’ were but mere centimeters from his face—

Then - and only then - do you pull him out by his close-cropped brown hair. 

The pinkish face of the Zenin heir gasped for air, and through blubbers, through tears, through swears, he somehow managed out. “I-I’m sorry—!” He clenched his eyes shut, “Fuck- I’m sorry, I won’t say women should walk three steps behind…” 

Your fingers dug into his collar even tighter.

“I mean-” He quickly rectified, pathetically shaking both the water and the thought out of his head. Like this, you couldn’t help but snort at him. “I won’t say…such things ever again-” His beady eyes slid to the side and narrowed at you, “Just- please- let me go—”

“Sure.” You eyed him just as wickedly, “If you admit it now that women and other folk can be just as powerful benders as men?” In support, the water gurgled and whirled into a conspicuously-shaped jaw. A shark.

Naoya sputtered, “Y-yes—yes. Women and- o-others can be just as powerful benders as men.” Thrashing even harder, “Please let me go—!”

“Sure thing.” You glanced at Shoko. And at the same time, you both unhanded Naoya’s twisted-up arms and let him fall face-first into the spring with a deafening splash! Cheekily, the water shaped at your whim into the open maw of a shark just as he plummeted. Hungry. 

And it was all Naoya could do to let out a high-pitched squeal as he fell into the sharp-toothed, watery abyss. He crash-landed into the spring once more and scrambled to his feet, pushing past other students as he scurried in the opposite direction. 

You and Shoko hooted at him the entire way down, only stopping once you lifted your head and caught—

Just a glimpse of amethyst eyes.

Before he turned back around, long hair swaying from side-to-side as he made his way up those steep stone steps. The number of students still making their way up were diminishing, and the first bell was likely to ring soon- but you stood there frozen in your red and black Mount Inferno robes, a blue gem fastened to your belt. Looking after a boy with a red gem attached to his own. “Shoko…who was that?”

“You seriously didn’t know?” She picked her satchel up from where it’d been discarded by some shrubbery on the pathway, and looked at you closely. “That’s the crown prince, Geto Suguru.”

The myth. The prodigy. The disgrace. 

“The Geto Suguru?” You asked. 

She nodded seriously.

How odd it was that a boy that elicited such a reaction would be the only one to save you two seats for the courtyard orientation. How odd it was that he’d whisper little facts to you about the lost Airbender at your first lesson.

How odd it was that Geto Suguru, the punished fire prince, became your best friend. 

He was attached to you by the hip, practically.

He was part of you enough.

Goading you into training long nights at the dojos, throwing spirals of water and fire shooting off cliffsides and seeing who could send them the farthest, helping you discover new springs on Mount Inferno (then promptly pushing you into them), whispering schemes to dunk Naoya or another one of his misogynistic reverse-harem again. For teachers, there was a higher chance of finding you both as a unit - and a trio with Shoko - than finding either one separated. 

Which also meant that punishments for breaking one of the Fire Nation’s 80,000 rules was also handed out as a collective. 

You win some, you lose some. 

Though he’d been off at some meeting or the other with bending master Yaga when Shoko - your other best friend - convinced you to make a dash for it- just a last hurrah. Down the volcano to fortune teller Tsukumo, in and out, before anyone ever notices that you broke curfew. After graduation tomorrow you might never see her again—this was your last chance. 

Though she was a Waterbender, Lady Tsukumo was known to be nomadic. 

And with Shoko’s urgency buzzing in your ears, and the never-ending uncertainty of what life held after graduation nagging at you- you made the descent. 

Which is where you found yourself being heartily laughed at by the blond-haired bender, her head thrown back and her candles flickering - it made it seem as though even the shadows were having a guffaw at your expense. 

“Don’t understand?” She asks, what seems like much later. She wipes away a mirthful tear at the corner of her eyes and looks at you in bewilderment, “Don’t understand—? Oh, of course, you don’t understand- tied for first place in scores with the prince, and yet you don’t understand, hm?”

You gape, “How did you-”

“A teller always knows.” The older woman winks, and pulls your palm closer for her to examine. “Tell me now, my dear, what is your type?”

“My- my type—” Sputtering.

“Yes, yes-” Lady Tsukumo tuts impatiently, “Your type. And be specific.”

And even though there was no one here but the two of you- you couldn’t help but cast a sidelong glance around the room. Feeling your heartbeat start to pick up, “I suppose…someone kind. Someone smart- emotionally smart. Someone that loves me for m-”

“Booooooring—!” She announces.

And your jaw just- drops.

What the…

Gaze wide as a mad glint creeps into her eyes. Shoko, you shall never be forgiven. “E-excuse me-”

“You’re excused.” Lady Tsukumo - you wondered whether she had given the title to herself - waves a hand breezily your way. She continues looking down at your upward-facing palm, “Now here’s what I actually see about your type-”

You gulp.

“Tall.”

Alright.

“A powerful bender.”

Well, alright.

“Handsome- no, gorgeous.” She looks most excited at that one—“Long hair. Pretty face. The stuff you write songs about.”

Well, certainly alright…

She turns your palm from side-to-side to capture every angle- then presses two fingers to your wrist and listens to your pulse. Lady Tsukumo’s eyes close. “Hmmm.” She pauses and listens, “And it’s exactly who you have in mind.”

You gasp-

And her eyes sparkle with excitement before—

“I-I didn’t have anyone in mind-”

“Liiiiiiies~!” The blonde-haired woman proudly announces. Before digging her polished nails even deeper into your pulse and seemingly reaping every sweet secret held inside. “I sense tension. I sense confessions long held. I sense agony-” Catching the look in your eyes, “Oh- but the good kind.”

She beams and you narrow your eyes suspiciously at her.

“The good kind- I promise…at least for me to read in here about.” And before you can call her out on it, she presses even harder. “I sense…a wedding here in the Fire Nation.”

And beside yourself, you can feel something at the pit of your stomach lurch. “A w-wedding—?”

She nods, “A royal wedding.” Having successfully put that little hiccup aside, she only grows more excited now. “With public announcements and a national holiday…you’ll wear the traditional Fire Nation garments-” To which you frown, as you’ve always loved the thought of getting married in your own traditional clothes. “-and the feast will be merry and plentiful. And at the end of the night…”

Suddenly, she stops. 

A little furrow forms between her brows.

In silence, Lady Tsukumo runs her hand up and down your forearm as though playing the harp. Counting your pulse. Reading your veins. Almost to your elbow. Pressing harder at your wrist to confirm—

“There will be death.”

The words pierce right through you- you feel faint.

But Lady Tsukumo’s grip on your hand is unyielding. She’s almost breaking through skin with her nails - “Death is lonely here.” By now, her hazel eyes are shot wide open and staring right through you - unseeing - as she continues almost in a daze—“A single life will be lost on your wedding night at your hand. Before Dawn has defeated darkness, darkness shall be defeated within. And red shall stain the floors of a royal suite.”

Those all-seeing eyes of her close.

“In blood as we are borne, two worlds reunite under life and death.”

The candles hush. 

Darkness.

By the time that Lady Tsukumo has waved them back alight again, you still have your hand reached out and your palm facing upwards. Though the tips of your fingers have started reaching inwards - they remind you of the fire lilies that Geto snuck you out to watch blossom your first year. Shoko had been caught cheating by Yaga and made to do revisions whilst you two explored. A valley of them between the furthest peaks of your school: they were the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. And so you’d returned.

Your second year. And then your third year.

Though they were ephemeral - just a few weeks of blossoming per year before they crumpled. 

And with it, something else crumples, too.

Tsukumo Yuki softly intertwines your fingers with hers and squeezes. Then she says in a soft voice, “I’ll tell you a little secret, young Waterbender. Just as you reshape the water, you have the power to shape your own destiny.”

The night is different when you’re finally stepping out.

Crisp and cool; almost to a sharp fault. The door to the fortune teller closes behind you with a click! and you’re standing upon her step- looking up at the moon. 

“I know you’re there, Suguru.”

And from the darkness emerges a playful groan. “How did I pass stealth lessons again?”

You chuckle, “I just know you too well.”

“I’ll say. Shoko told me you came down here so I thought I’d come to escort you.”

Geto Suguru - eighteen just like you - steps into view underneath Lady Tsukumo’s hanging lanterns; admired so ardently by flying termites that flutter around the light in infatuation until their wings fall off mid-flight, and they drop to the floor—crawling around in bafflement as they try to reach their radiant lover once more before they inevitably die. 

Under that same light, you’re taking him in.

It’s been quite some time since you’d splattered spring water over the young prince’s golden shoes- and Geto Suguru has grown considerably since then.

His hair had gotten longer. His smile just a little more feline. The princeling you’d had to look down at to speak had hit a sudden growth spurt once he’d reached about halfway through your first year. First to become lanky. And then his body had given him about two more surges in his second year just for the hell of it, just to leave him amongst the tallest in the grade. 

And it didn’t matter how tall you yourself were- Geto was at least a head taller and it honestly got on your nerves a little that you now had to raise your head to speak with him.

Your best friend.

Your best friend…right?

Third year was when he started filling his frame out more. 

It honestly wasn’t something you thought about until you just-so-happened to notice - and once you did, you just couldn’t seem to stop.

Because Firebender Geto had always been painstaking about keeping his training schedule rigid, keeping his techniques exceptional, never dropping below a cool #1 in Firebending ranks. Never one to fall behind, that was what influenced you to claw up to #1 yourself in Waterbending- and though Shoko wasn’t the type to take things as seriously as the two of you - at least not outwardly - you could tell that she put a certain amount of ‘effortless’ effort into maintaining #2 in Waterbending. But of course, #1 in all healing lessons. 

He was one of the earliest to master Firebending. 

And it was exactly those extra hours of training and duels that left you a honed warrior- and Geto…someone that was hard to keep your eyes off of.

All that height? He was now padding on extra muscle n’ heft to make his frame much more intimidating - like those royal warriors you’d see mentioned in history classes. Corded shoulders. Defined pecs. Chiselled abs. 

Little by little; training sessions with your best friend had begun getting a lot harder when he’d take his helmet off to let his long, river-like black hair cascade down his shoulders. Sticking to his forehead. Pushed out of his thoroughly pretty face. Glistening with sweat—Geto would pant as he tears through the sizzling layers of his armor, bearing more and more skin than you think you could bear-

You once did.

Before everything got so…strange. Whenever Geto would take off his armor - complaining about it being too hot to duel - you’d merely used to throw your helmet at him and do the same. 

But now when he was calling your name, breath ragged, staring at you with half-lidded exhausted eyes…

The one thing that ran through your mind was how his waist was so grabbable-

Before you know it, the real-life Geto Suguru is leaning down and giving your forehead a good flick. And the thing about him is that he doesn’t hold back, either, so you’re left paying for the absence of your own caution. 

Your best friend.

Your best friend.

Your best friend.

Whining as you rub over that spot, “I’m killing you.” The two of you begin heading the treacherous trek up the volcano. “I’m going to finally report you to Yaga for stealing his prized kale cookies- I swear.”

“Sure thing.” He smiles that feline smile, “Just make sure to add that you ate about half of them, too.”

“On second thought, why steal and tell?” 

Geto laughs into the night at that. And you can’t help but turn your head and watch him—so free and unabashed. 

It makes something fuss at the back of your mind- “Hey, Suguru…”

He turns to you, profile illuminated by the pale moonlight. “Yeah?”

“What’d Yaga have to say to you?” You ask—it wasn’t like a teacher to set a meeting so late, and especially right before graduation. Attempting at a joke- “He isn’t failing you or anything, right? It’s nothing serious?”

“As much as I’d love to join you as a super senior—” You snort. You both knew you were making the speech as class first tomorrow. “-no. It wasn’t anything serious.”

Looking to him for more information. 

To which Geto merely looks at you and smiles- he had this little quirk where sometimes his eyes went completely shut as he smiled. And you honestly hadn’t thought of it too much until now. Now…you think it’s the type of thing where one could write a song about it- 

“We just talked about the security measures for when my father arrives.” Geto ultimately sighs, amethyst eyes straight ahead. “Royal visitor and all those tedious things…”

Your lips part, “Ah…” Right. The Fire Lord himself.

“Honestly, I didn’t even think he’d come.” And though he sounds casual about it- you can tell there’s real weight behind Geto’s words. After a few more steps, he turns the questioning onto you. “What about you? What made you decide to go to the fortune teller after all this time?”

You shrug, “Change of pace? Shoko wanted me to do so- ah.”

“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”

And that—that makes you feel so many things at once. So many. 

The excitement. The elation. The heart-stopping moment. The crush. They’re all slamming into you at once- and it’s a complete miracle that you’re able to get out…“Honestly…not much. Guess m’not that predictable, huh?” 

Geto speaks slowly, “Is that so…”

“What about you?” Turning curiously to him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you going down there?”

He breaths out a silver cloud into the cool night air, “I have once. My first day here.”

And that makes your brows raise- you’ve never known…“What’d she say?” Your heart races, and your palms feel sweaty when they clench—

“Honestly?” Geto leans in close- reeeeeally close. He brings his face towards yours - and there’s a brief moment where his gaze drops down to your lips—you think he’s going to do it. You think he’s going to close the distance. You think he’s going to kiss you. You think he’s going to prove every premonition right and wrong and so right at the same time. “Not much.” Before he’s pulling back his index and flicking your forehead once more.

You summon a nearby spring to fashion into an oversized fan, and chase him with it all the way up to the dorms. 

He laughs the entire way. 

Tomorrow was graduation, but every tomorrow after would still be the same.

Would it not?

.

.

.

You wake with a gasp.

You wake to the drums of war.

The morning awakening. The rhythmic beating of a scorned heart. It punctured and pierced and honed itself against the coarse air of the Fire Nation; the crescendo of your traditional drums, followed by the chanting of your nation’s most valiant benders, and the undercurrent of melee when scimitars met jaw blades. You’d gotten used to the sickening crunch of bones being fitted back into place, though the cries of your people still left your stomach churning. 

Like prey in wait, the world of battle never really slept.

Just last week, the Earthbenders had made the journey from their encampment to yours—and by now the gashing of boulders, the screeching of metal, and the accretion of unique war cries had become accompaniments to such mornings, too.

Rousing.

Dust erupted from the savanna plains and a thin layer of it rained down on you from the gaps in your tent. You’re blinking awake at the flood of pus-yellow light, and raising your head off the table- you’d fallen asleep poring over your war plans yet again. 

You can’t remember the last time you slept in a bed - a bed, let alone a comfortable one. But such things were frivolities at a time like this. Everything could be far, far worse. 

You’re leafing through the yellowed parchments on muscle memory, embossed with the insignia of every Earth and Water tribe in the land. There were many such papers; each one differing in only slight revisions, though with the same contents and proposition addressed to the Fire Lord. Your once-friend.

It’s been nine years since you graduated at the top of Mount Inferno—Geto had been standing right beside you that day as Earthbending master Yaga announced your class as he’d announced you all as the new generation of bending masters. The future. The hope. And you exchanged a look with Shoko and Geto that day, tenderness churning within your chest when it sank in that this would be the last time you’d be standing in this courtyard like this. The last time that Mount Inferno would truly ever be yours.

And so you nodded- you’d planned for this moment for a long time.

As Yaga finished his speech, you kept your hands behind your back and flicked them- just a flick. Enough to summon droplets of clear, glistening water from every surrounding spring. 

They rose high above your heads and half-crystallized in ice—like diamond shards. Shoko hovered her hand and manipulated the water particles in the air to spread them out across the entire courtyard, and Geto lazily waved his hand to increase the temperature. To make the icicles suddenly pop! and rain down - refracting with the daylight to create a brilliant rainbow above you all. 

As the audience awed and gasped then, Geto had stepped - just a single step - closer to you. His shoulders brushed your own, and you remember the tip of his littlest finger grazing yours—barely there. 

Before Geto had caught the eye of his father - tunneling through him with his vicious stare - and the heir had stepped away. 

Your hands had chased his touch, his warmth then.

But you should’ve known- that should’ve been your first sign.

No matter how many times you promised to write and keep in touch with your two best friends; only one of them responded. Letter after letter to the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace - and all of them went unanswered. 

Though, even years later, you were writing.

You hadn’t lost hope- at least, not until your village elder one day asked whether you weren’t invited to the crowning. Whose crowning? Oh, Prince Geto’s crowning as the Prince Regent, of course. His father had become bedridden, and he was overseeing the nation without being formally crowned yet. 

That was how you found out.

Seven days after Geto’s induction as the regent, the Fire Nation attacked.

It was on a group of peaceful air nomads that were already far and few between. Then came the villages. Then came the towns. Ultimately—you remember hearing whispers that Lord Geto was actually the one that poisoned his father in hopes of seizing the crown. The Fire Nation had no King for now, though it did have a monster. 

In just a few years, life as you knew it was set aflame. 

You can’t remember what exactly you’d said in your last letter to him, but you were sure it was some mangled mess of disbelief and threats. You wondered where that old Geto you knew went, you promised you’d make him pay for what he’s done…be it whether you were arrested and charged for treason or not. You never were. 

You went through a mountain of papers trying to write something coherent. 

And when you finally had it arranged to be sent, you joined the rebels. 

Over the course of years, you trained and toughened. You fought your opponents hard and you fought yourself even harder—you knew that Geto Suguru had eyes everywhere across the land. You calloused, you bled, you fell. There was no time to grow gradually used to the ugliness of battle, you were thrust straight into it and forced to grow wiser than your ages. You knew he must know you’ve joined the building uprisings against him.

And you couldn’t disappoint your old classmate, could you?

They granted ascending titles for every one thousand enemy attacks one diverted. At the age of twenty-seven, you were general of the Waterbending faction. 

And the battle was becoming decisive. 

On one side of the tent was a picture of him from your schooling days - eyes crossed out, and pins and daggers stabbed into him whenever you and your war generals mulled over plans. And at your feet lay the half-melted remains of ice blades you’d been training with.

Sometimes, when the nights were really quiet (as quiet as a battle camp could be), you fashioned sharp streams of water and sent them jetting straight at that picture. Just like you and Geto used to in competition, on a cliffside so long ago. 

Only now, there was no laughter. 

As you’re straightening up, a rough canvas blanket falls off your shoulders—Shoko must have entered some time during the night and put this over you. Of course she would.

Always a healer, no matter what. 

You’re holding the fabric close to you for a few seconds before letting go. A general had to carry only what was needed.

Freshening yourself up with the shallow basin of sun-warmed water at the corner of your tent, you’re donning your sea-blue cloak and walking past the tent flaps. Midday Sun licks at your skin as you step outside. 

The Sun in the Fire Nation always seemed hotter than the one in your land, but right now it was the only thing you could feel. You turn your face up to it in greeting and breathe in deeply.

Your brief moment of respite is suddenly shattered by a call of your name - urgent. The sound of an approaching horse. Alarmed; your eyes shoot open and your hand immediately falls to the bone knife fastened to your waist, dropping only once you recognize the approaching men as one of your own—his blue cloak flutters in the wind. 

As he nears, you register his wide eyes and his pallid face.

A cold sweat seemed to coat his features despite it being scorching out. And once he’s close enough, other warriors stop his horse by the reins- and he all but collapses onto the ground. Crawling on all fours to you—before you’re waving away your soldiers and helping the man stand up yourself.

“Ijichi.” You support him up and firmly tap the side of his sallow cheeks, “Ijichi! Get yourself together, soldier. What happened?” 

As a non-bender, Ijichi was still an integral part of your battle. He was your messenger - and your most trusted one, at that. He was the one that’d successfully delivered your last letter to Geto as your friend, and your first letter to him as Lord: the proposition. You knew Geto wouldn’t lay a hand on Ijichi, no matter what the contents of your letters were. 

He knew how just dear your friends were to you- he knew very well.

“He…he…” Ijichi’s pale lips tremble.

Your pulse races. There was only ever one he that could deign such a reaction- “What happened—” Signalling one of the nearby warriors to hand a flask of water over, you wet his mouth with it. Lightly shaking him. “Speak, soldier-”

“H-he has an answer, general.” Ijichi sputters. Hand weakly gesturing towards his satchel-

Your soldiers tear open that brown hide satchel and present you with the sole thing inside—a smooth, strong parchment tied up in a red velvet ribbon. Though it didn’t have the signature embosses and the gaudy golden envelopes that most communication with the palace did, there was no doubt that it was of imperial origins. The only difference was in the way it seemed to be from the hand of the Regent himself, rather than any old elder…

This was straight from Geto.

And you have to be careful not to display the slight quiver at your fingertips as you open it-

‘My dearest best friend,

It has been accepted. 

Yours, Suguru.’

Though the handwriting itself was far different from what you remembered his to be. But people change. 

“What is it, general?” One of the warriors pipes up from the gathering crowd. The Earthbending masters and other commanders have joined, too. 

And you’re looking straight ahead - at no one and everyone in particular - as you just give a single…simple…nod. 

Lord Geto Suguru has accepted your marriage proposal. 

.

.

.

Riiiiiip—!

You’re clenching your jaw and fisting your hands together as a Fire Nation attendant tears out wax strips smeared down your legs, yanking out the hair underneath. She stares in wonderment for a brief moment, before starting to do the same on your hands.

A scream strangles in your throat.

The journey from the camp to the palace hadn’t been too extensive, and you’d arrived to the roar of trumpets and the wariness of the Fire Nation public. The palace announcement itself had been shaky- but they had to open the doors to you.

They had to.

You were their future Queen, after all.

Just perhaps not what they expected. 

Scrubbing and plucking you raw, honey glazes, and milk baths. They’d taken special offense to that little callous between your thumb and index from holding a sword too much.

They’d attempted to scrub it away and failed. 

Who would’ve thought that years of battle meant that other things took priority over a little waxing and powdering? Apparently the poor, pampered asses of ‘war’ generals in the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace couldn’t stand any evidence of the raging battles that took place outside their numerous gilded walls—perhaps guilt or inconvenience? Possibly the latter, you doubted they had a conscience. And thus, you hadn’t made it two steps inside the sprawling palace before you were whisked away by a cloud of attendants. To be made into an imitation of something you weren’t. 

You’d seen the way they looked at you- as if you dirtied the palace with your mere presence. To your surprise, it seems a majority of the council had long since been taken over by the Zenin elders. 

It seems that Zenin Naoya had made a name for himself as the head advisor. 

That fool couldn’t advise a cow to moo. 

You hadn’t even gotten to see Geto yet - and here you were already being prepared for your wedding. 

If it were up to you, you’d forgo all this levity and carry out the plan here and now. You’d barge past all these plumes of dresses and golden antiques, and—

“Now for your perfuming, Your High- ah, I suppose not yet.” The orange-haired girl smiles to herself as she fogs you with some expensive perfume.

You crinkle your nose and expect the worst - some throat-clogging, saturated scent that makes you gag…but what meets you is the soft undercurrent of the ocean, of jasmine, of memories long-gone and hidden. And your eyes are shooting open in surprise.

“It’s good, hm?” She nods excitedly at your reaction. “His Highness had it concocted specially for today.”

“I didn’t take Geto to be the perfumeering type.”

She laughs softly to herself and you look up in curiosity. “Oh- sorry.” Bowing ever-so-slightly—you’re hurrying to tell her that she didn’t need to. “It’s just that…my lady, you refer to His Highness so intimately yet it seems you have not the faintest idea. Lord Geto is the one that has chosen everything for this wedding; from the perfumes to the flowers, to your dress. Oh! Though such strict…presentation aspects were demands from the council.”

Eyes darting to meet her warm honey-brown ones in surprise.

“He had it all thought out, my lady.” She finishes.

“That…” Your lips part. “I don’t understand.” You turn around and let the silk overcoat glide against your skin like a second one, “How does a monster have time to plan a wedding?”

She gasps and skirts her eyes around—as though merely speaking in here could land her in the dungeons. And you wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

The girl looks at you with pleading eyes- about to say something, but you’re shaking your head reassuringly. “It’s alright. You don’t have to answer.”

With a relieved sigh, she goes back to moisturizing and massaging your aching limbs. 

“But tell me this-” You continue, as the silence prolongs. “-how did so many of the Zenin family find posts in the palace? Last I knew, it was just Naoya’s father that had a position here.”

“As head advisor, yes.” She nods. “The Zenin advisors have only increased in number and notoriety. Before we even knew it, they went from just one in the palace- to now having the entire family in power.”

You hesitate, “Regent Geto’s doing?”

“Not at all.” To your surprise, she shakes her head. “It started when His Highness Geto Suguru was banished as a prince- that was when the family first came to power. And in the three years of his schooling, they’d only increased. When the young prince returned, there was no extracting them. They controlled it all…or so the old palace keepers whisper.” 

Your brows furrow, “Is that so…”

Looking around nervously once more—surely rehashing the palace history wasn’t a crime? “And they also whisper that…” She leans in close, half-covering her mouth conspiratorially. “There’s something strange about Advisor Naobito being the only one to serve His Majesty the King with his breakfasts- but His Highness doesn’t seem to care.”

Shivers down your spine.

“I-I see.”

You do.

You really do.

Nearby, the in-chamber water fountain starts to bubble. The girl gasps and looks between you and it-

That’s what makes you snap out of it - shaking your head and looking up at her with a slight smile. “My apologies. What’s your name?”

She hesitates, likely wondering whether you were going to report her for divulging so much information. But whatever she sees in your face seems to convince her that you’re not like them- you’re not like the Zenins. And she answers, “Kugisaki. Nobara Kugisaki.”

Nobara keeps you company until another flurry of attendants arrive - and soon enough, you find yourself dolled-up in countless layers of red and white silk. Golden patches and embroidery on your sleeves, nimbly designed into visions of mountaintops and fire lilies, the emblem of the Geto family on your back—it bore heavy. You were surprised - you expected more of his name upon you. Your face is painted. You’re perfumed once more. Roses were woven into your hair, and your feet are slipped into golden sandals. 

It hurt that your own tribe’s name wasn’t anywhere on your outfit. 

When you tried reaching for the sea-blue cloak you loved - not as lavish as the Fire Nation’s robes, but your most prized possession - the attendants had shook their heads.

Still, you tucked it into the wide circumference of your sleeves nonetheless. 

As those double doors opened and you were led outside, some of your guards stationed outside - in case of any funny business - froze. Shoko smiled sadly. Ijichi’s jaw dropped—

And you weren’t sure how to feel about everyone reacting to you like so. 

The procession was long and mind-numbing with luxury; it gets to a point before opulence becomes vile. And in the Fire Nation, most weddings were status symbols rather than actual ceremonies of love. For the Prince Regent - the future King as far as anyone knew - most of all. 

You could hear it outside.

The clothes. The music. The swell of a public that cascaded never-ending into the widespread palace courtyard and watched, and the passing of appetizers leafed with gold. Red-hot ribbons and lanterns, the oversized faces of dragons with drunk ministers atop them—throwing flowers and bits of golden paper - cymbals clashed and dancers of all sorts and music made their way into the palace pavilion. Drummers banged. Children squealed at firecrackers. In contrast, you walked quietly shouldered by your warriors and being led down the pathway to your husband.

The place where the binding ceremony would take place was the pavilion overlooking the Fire Nation public. Where the entrance of the palace was. 

At the very top of a hundred stone steps, where the audience convened below. 

The elders had drawn a circle of ash for you to step into.

And so you do.

Perfectly placed on display. 

A hush falls over the crowd. Caught between merriment at the war ending and morbid curiosity and fear, they were chanting in dialects that you didn’t understand - though the stay word or two you’d learned through intelligence cracking made you recognize they were singing about love, about unison.

Today there would be none.

There would be blood.

Lady Tsukumo’s prediction still lingered at the back of your mind. Though you kept your eyes downward and awaited your fate.

Your fate being the tall, red-clad shadow at the edge of your peripheral vision. He stands next to you.

Your breath catches as it hits you that this was Geto- and he seemed even more broad and intimidating than you remembered. The only things you can make out: long, dark hair and arms crossed behind his back. His uniform seemed to glint with something- gold? Though you don’t look up to confirm, you’re training your eyes down at the stone steps—and feeling the man straighten up beside you.

“It’s a lot of people, isn’t it?”

You almost jolt-

Had you been any less disciplined, even an ounce, you would have darted your head upwards and gaped at him in disbelief. Here was Geto Suguru…speaking to you as if nothing ever happened.

How could he do that? How could he speak like that? What gave him the right—? The very same that broke your heart over and over- no, this was a very different Geto from the one you knew on the mountaintop. How could he stand there like this - wearing the same body, the same face, the same voice but slightly deeper, and smile at you like that- 

And pretend like everything was okay?

You speak in an even tone, “It is.”

“I haven’t seen this many people since the graduation.” 

Your chest hurts. “I have.” And for the first time, you’re looking at him squarely. “On the battlefields.”

And the first thought that should hit you was how much he’s changed—how his face now frames his face and cascades down his back like ink, his jaw has set into something sharper, his features have become more refined. Melted away the baby fat to reveal the handsome man within. Years of training and war have left him more chiselled than before- and even through the billowing robes of his traditional attire, you can make out the corded muscle underneath. 

He’s both familiar and not. Familiar in those eyes like polished crystals peering down at you, not in the severity that hid beneath them. Geto wore the traditional red and black sokutai; not just any red, but the red of blood after its long since been spilled, of battlefields. Piqued shoulder pads. High collar. Fine gold tracing. 

Even a section of his hair was bunched-up into a knot atop his head whilst the rest of it flowers, held up with a gold pin. And on his waist was a golden belt studded with…a singular blue sapphire. 

He looked so much happier in your memories. 

The first thought that actually - actually - hits you is that he’s grown into everything he feared he’d become. 

A fiery breeze ruffles Geto’s long hair and makes him look as though a dream. Or a nightmare. 

Despite what you’ve said, his gaze remains unwavering. “I see, general.”

Suddenly, the ash around you erupts in flames, like a phoenix—and the marriage rites commence. 

.

.

.

You meant it when you said that Fire Nation weddings were known more for their status than their emotion. 

Because the actual rites were stiff and sped-through; as though they were hurrying through the sole sentimental part of the wedding in haste to proclaim the two of you married. Once the circle of ash had been set alight, the Royal Fire Sage had appeared behind you two and boomed out invitations to the spirits and ancestors. 

And then you’d been made to recite your vows to one another for the entire courtyard to hear. To make it known - to someone else if not the two of you - that you would have to cherish one another, to understand one another, and to…love one another.

Through good times and bad.

And to bring an heir. 

As you repeated after him, you wondered just how much of it could have applied before.

And as the two of you finished, you were handed a porcelain sake bowl that looked dipped in gold. As though a wabi-sabi artwork, but every bit of it had been shattered. You both took three sips each of the rich, translucent liquid—promising unity.

Your hands tightened on the bowl.

And then you placed your offerings of evergreen branches as newlyweds, down on the sacred circle of ash, then clapped twice and bowed. 

To the public.

The roaring cheers were deafening.

You closed your eyes tightly against the noise. 

There was a reception afterwards, of course, and it was just as disgustingly lavish as you thought it would be; though as the married couple, there was rarely any time for you to eat or drink. You couldn’t indulge when there were ministers and master benders and government officials begging for your attention—most of all, you couldn’t kill when you had a plan. 

But oh- did you think of bypassing that plan and going in for the strike when Zenin Naoya had come sneering to your raised table. Wishing the newlyweds a long and prosperous life together.

He spat it out like venom.

Even more so when a new attendant had wished ‘the future King and Queen’ a long and happy life together. 

Other big, big names came and went. However Geto’s father wasn’t in a befitting state to make a public appearance, and you’d watched Geto’s reaction closely as this was whispered to him by one of the advisors. 

He was as still as a stone statue. 

But you could forgive the too-tight embraces from families attempting to woo their way into the good graces of the future monarchy, and the ministers that sloshed their sake on you. You could forgive the generals that eyed you suspiciously, and the young aristocrats that tugged on their guardians’ robes and asked which nation you were from…and whether that was allowed. You could forgive it all. You weren’t wearing your nation’s colors—and you had to smile as your soldiers bowed to you as per your royal title. 

You never let them bow to you when you were their general. Just general. 

You could forgive it all, because your plan started only after the wedding reception.

When the curtains were drawn, and alcohol suffused into the air. When you were beckoned by the team of attendants that readied you for the wedding, and escorted away into the privacy of the royal baths.

You wondered if it was just you who felt like some in the reception were leering like they already knew…

Readied, once more.

By the time you’re donning a sheer red robe, and guided to Geto’s sprawling princely chambers, he’s already there sitting at the edge of the bed. Back turned to you.

His armor removed and attire half-off - draping over one broad shoulder. And the other….was a pale body underneath the luminous moonlight filtering in—rippled with muscles and slightly freckled. Though they looked faded, as if he’d gained them once a long time ago and had rarely been out in the Sun since. 

You could guess they were from Mount Inferno.

Tonight was to be your consummation, and you knew they’d be checking for evidence in the morning. 

You walk up to the Fire Lord. 

Soundless steps.

And yet, he still turns. His long, jet-black hair falls off of one shoulder and tumbles down his back like a waterfall—it’s glossy and reaches down past his waist. There’s a slight dampness to it, and you wonder whether he’d been scrubbed and perfumed down to the bone, too. You don’t know why but you mourn the way his hair covers most of his toned back.

Quickly, however, you snap yourself out of such nonsense.

You gulp and take a step closer. “I have arrived as the attendants have directed me-”

“Must we be so formal with one another?” He speaks. Geto’s tone is deeper than it was on the mountain, with a polished edge to it that spoke of years of lessons—rigorous. More mature. You think back to your first impression of him- no, it wasn’t just padded cushions and perfume after all, huh? “We’re married now, y’know.”

You’re looking up and realize there’s a smile playing at his lips. 

“We are.” And your voice, too, sounds so much more mature than back then. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not strangers-”

“But we’re not.”

“We are.”

There’s a frosty silence that stretches between you two, and you’re starting to think it might last until sunrise- but then Geto puts his face in his hands and sighs. Heavy and unbroken. “At least…at least just for tonight…” Voice something so small—something that reminds you of the Geto from nine years ago. “Could we not be strangers?”

You don’t answer.

But as he stares at you - piercing through your very being - your hands move as if hypnotized to the sash of your robe. And his eyes grow murky- they grow dark—following you like a predator follows its prey. 

Though which one of you was the predator, it’s hard to say. 

With a single flick of your fingers, your robe is dropping off of you.

And if you thought his gaze was smoldering before, they’re practically glazed and blackened now. In almost a trance, he keeps his eyes on you and reaches his hand outwards- and murmurs in a low timbre. “Come to me.”

“Is that an order as King?”

“We both know I have no power as King.”

A plea. 

You step. Silently. 

And soon enough, you’re standing in front of Geto Suguru - in-between his manspread thighs. He gazed upon you, and you gaze upon him. It’s now that you’re noticing his outer layers had been stripped through, and the only thing that he’s donning now were baggy white trousers doing little to hide the muscles underneath, and a hitoe: it was a dark, draped robe that almost looked like a yukata. Loose and flowy.

Shifting aside to reveal a puffy pink nipple on his left side. 

Then before you know it- you’re both pushing him back onto the bed by his shoulders—and crashing your lips into his.

And you’re not sure what you’re expecting- fuck, you’re not sure how long you’ve agonized over this very moment, but Geto’s kissing you and you’re kissing him. And it’s everything you’ve imagined in all your most innocent girlhood dreams. 

He tastes of jasmine and crisp summer air - the curtains behind you flutter with a breath of cool air, and you’re gasping. It’s then that Geto takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Clasping the back of your head, he angles it to one side and lets his delicious tongue inside. Exploring your mouth for a few seconds before fishing it back out n’ then leaning even closer to suck on your tongue. The moment he tastes you, he groans. “Please…”

And you think - for a brief, stupid moment - that you’ve wanted nothing more.

But Geto’s canines nip at your lower lip, and reality’s hitting you all at once. All at once. 

You’re breaking the kiss with a sickeningly sweet pop! and pushing him down by his shoulders. Geto’s scorching hot pants fan your face, his long hair tickles your neck. Perhaps too afraid to look him in the eyes- to see what expression he has on now, you’re shuffling down his body. Pawing between his legs. 

But just before your knees can hit the floor—an arm reaches out and stops you.

Grabbing ahold of your own, he’s pulling you up. 

In split-seconds, you’re finding yourself back on the bed - this time with the positions flipped. You have your body rested against a mattress that feels like a thousand clouds. You have your cunt throbbing wildly as Geto beckons you to stay and kneels down on the bedside. 

Like he’s praying.

Though the only plea he whispers is between your naked legs.

Getting swallowed up almost instantly in the cute, slobbering kiss he’s pressing against your plump, puckered lips. Just so ready for him.

Geto’s dark brows contort as your legs jerk open a bit further and your cunt’s sloshin’ out. 

Lascivious ribbons of creamy slick empty out of you n’ end up dripping down his chin - it glistens underneath the cool, blueish moonlight - and you’re watching as he sticks the very tip of his tongue out to taste. You see those clouded amethyst eyes start to grow even murkier, heavy and half-lidded. He looks up at you in half-shock as the syrupy taste of your cunt enters his mouth, and the infamous Fire Lord can’t help but moan—

“Honey, I want to taste you for eternity.”

“You’re not s…oh.” Eyes clenching shut. Breath catching in your chest. Whatever you were about to say- Geto’s lappin’ the words right out of you.

With the slightest inch of his tongue squeezes in- hot and pulsing between your folds. The ridged texture of his tastebuds glue to your most sensitive parts—polishing off every ounce of the gloss that coated between your pussylips. And once he’s downed it all like the sweetest of mead, Geto purses his pink lips and spits.

A stream of glittering saliva that hits you. 

You flinch-

“Too cold?” Geto’s voice just seems so loud in your eardrums. Low and so much more ruined than you remember it- it makes you blink up at him. And whatever he’s seeing in your expression, it seems to answer his question. 

Because then he’s running a thumb down the wad of spit plastered to your cunt. Tap-tap-tapping. 

And before you know it, you’re feeling the frigid, exposed parts of your pussy turn into something sizzling.

Fuck.

Bubblin’ over and fizzing.

He was using his powers to…your brows shoot up to your hairline. 

You’re clamoring onto your elbows. You’re quaking your thighs shut- and actually getting them shoved even further apart—by both of Geto’s bulky shoulders lodging himself even further between them. His sticky, hot breaths were practically basking your cunt - and soon enough Geto’s nose-deep between them and slobberin’. “Sh-shit, now that’s unfair…”

Prolonged, open-mouthed kisses. From the tender edges of your pussylips to fishing his tongue between them- swirling inside your wet hole.

Now that he’d heated up the spittle touching your cunt, it was Geto’s time to smear it all over using his mouth and pretty face. “Mmm, not too bad, huh?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You scoff. Raking your fingers through his raven locks.

“Ahead of myself? No, no…” Geto murmurs- and he’s purposefully doing it so the vibrations shot up your spine and made you arch into him. The crown of his tastebuds sloshed between your folds and gave you such luxurious licks prodding inwards. Flattened top. Teasing edge of his tongue. Then Geto reaches his right hand up and swats the glistening top of your cunt. Soon enough, you’re feeling the slippery layers of his saliva grow even hotter. “You need to know your place, my little Waterbender.”

“That’s general to you.” You’re tugging on a fistful of his hair. Still damp; though by now it was less with water, and more with sweat. 

“General…” Geto repeats. Another swat- controlling and ebbing the heat in a way that made fogginess coil around your brain. “And do you realize that you’re in enemy territory, general? My best friend?”

“I- am aware.” Gritting out—more so because you couldn’t handle the slight whimper that threatens to crackle on the edge of your tone. 

You’re dragging an even less merciful handful of his hair in retaliation- dragging and dragging until his lips almost pop off of your cunt. He’s grabbing onto you with a single hand groped underneath your ass, and such a desperate husky noise. 

To his credit, you just didn’t expect Geto to moan.

But then again, he didn’t expect you to put a blade to his throat, either. 

Geto’s purple eyes snap wide open at the ice-cold feeling- and the air prickles with the power of bending. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d used the dampness of his lengthy hair - the water particles, the ravenous sweat - and melded it into a steel-hard dagger that pricked at his pale throat. Just a single gulp of his Adam’s apple leaves Geto Suguru nicked.

And crimson beads down to his robe—matching. Wedding colors.

‘A single life will be lost on your wedding night at your hand Before Dawn has defeated darkness, darkness shall be defeated within. And red shall stain the floors of a royal suite.’

It would take just a single flick- just a single flick of your wrist to end the Fire Prince’s life right here and right now. To end this all. But you take your time to admire him…at least before the life drains out of his eyes.

That second of eye contact lasts longer than lifetimes- longer than an eternity together. Just the two of you in the royal suite. Geto’s mouth on your cunt, and your dagger at his neck—and to your surprise, he doesn’t look like he’d be anywhere else. 

In fact- to your offense, he flickers his eyes down to the callous that was peaking out in the web between your dominant thumb and your index. And slowly - almost snake-like - Geto’s inching his face closer and pressing a soft kiss—right as you were holding the dagger.

Your breath hitches- it’s silent. It’s oh-so-silent.

And Geto’s darting his eyes up at the sound of it, cautiously pulling away. But not to any sort of mortal safety, of course, because when has Geto Suguru ever followed your expectations?

He’s instead maneuvering his face- and unsure where he was going, you’re following his actions with that deadly blade of yours. But the Fire Lord doesn’t run. He doesn’t beg. He doesn’t change. He merely tips his head ever-so-slightly at an angle, then sidles his hot face between your clammy thighs to…to make out with your cunt.

Make out.

Not just lapping and lickin’ like he’d been doing before. 

Your mouth falls open, “Oh.”

Not just prodding away between your pussylips with the tip of his tongue.

“O-oh, fuck.”

He’s properly gaping his mouth open and massaging the forefront of your cunt with his muscle. Again and again. The thick, flattened plane of him rests on top of your pussylips n’ drags up and down, back and forth, teasing you mindless before swabbin’ his wet inches inside. 

Geto’s practically glued to you- the tiptop of his tongue rovering for every sweet spot inside. Long, drunken thrusts. And with every single one, you’re reaching your arched hips upwards. “Fuck- fuck—” 

The silvery tip of your dagger digs against his skin, and the prince flutters his eyes open all feline-like.

Lightning shoots through your body as you take in the utterly dazed sight of him. “You realize that I can- hah, that I can just kill you now, right?”

“I’m aware.” Languidly, he’s blinking his eyes open properly. Your pussy just tasted so good lacquering his tongue like this; in such a warm…wet layer of your sap. And the only thing the fearsome Firebender can do right now is tip his head back and let those juices drain to the back of his throat. “And it’s only makin’ me harder.”

“This?” Pressing the blade even harder. “This.”

In response he can only nod.

Nod and nod and nudge your pulsing clit with his nose. 

Your jaw’s just dropping. Was he making fun of you…?

“Fuck- I-I think I get it now.” You’re blubbering, hand tremoring. “You really are a monster-”

“I am.” Though you can’t decipher his tone of voice. Merely feeling the way Geto presses a few more noisy kisses on your cunt, before he’s raising his hand and- 

You shut your eyes.

You’re hearing the solid smack! on those swollen, needy lips before you feel it. Hot. And just as soon as the searing sting makes its way through your thrumming vessels, Geto’s attached his mouth to your cunt once more and is tunneling his tongue crazily into your pretty hole. Just so wet n’ needy for him that you’re sucking him up after every hackhammerin’ thrust. Squeezes him closer. 

He moans- fucking moans as he cuts himself off from breathing. He doesn’t care if he suffocates - as long as it’s between those tremblin’ legs of yours.

Though it’d be a damn cold day in hell before you ever let him beat you to your mission objective. 

So you’re pulling back your deadly dagger, and you’re catching the slight surprise flickering in Geto’s eyes at the act. Quickly replaced by something more knowing, something…far darker and unreadable when that blade finds itself positioned back on his beautiful throat.

The vertical line of it stands out starkly. A thin line of crimson draws itself on the edge.

You’re somehow clenching through gritted teeth, “I…need to kill you—for the good of this world.”

He keeps perfect, ruinous eye-contact with you as he leans his pretty face forwards. He keeps eye-contact with you as he raises his hand and spanks your pussy once more.

“So do it.”

Hot sparks explode behind your eyes.

And the imprint of all five of Suguru’s doughy fingertips seem to emblazon themselves on your cunt- you’re realizing then that he’s using his powers again. He’s leaving a mark on your pussy…for however long he may be alive. For however long you may let him stay alive.

And he’s eating you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have.

The sweetest of sultry desserts latched onto his mouth - Geto ties your legs tighter around his head. Then he’s mouthing aside your soaked pussylips to stick his tongue in and out, in and out, in and out. He’s pinpointing every hidden spot inside you with his dexterous tongue- quirking it juuuuust right to one side and hittin’ your g-spot ruthlessly. 

“I am going to—” Though the words feel weak, even on your lips. “I-I am going to-”

“So fucking do it.” He’s a man on death row. He’s a man starved- your dagger moves even further upwards and Geto’s sharp white canines make an appearance as he hisses. “Do it…”

“I-”

“I dare you.”

And for all the world, you might have possessed the steadiest arm in all of the land. But the way he’s makin’ your eyes roll to the back of your head - just the winding, zig-zagging slashes of his tongue squeeeeezing into your pussy - would be enough to make anyone tremble. Even during their life’s mission. “I…sh-shit.” Bucking your traitorous hips upwards - so hard that it leaves a smear of glittering slick from his upper lip n’ to the tip of his nose.

Slash after slash.

Probe after probe.

He’s just so fatal with his tastebuds - sizzling against your velvety inner walls. And you wondered whether that was just you or his powers…

Before another hot smack! resounds against the sprawling corners of the royal suite. And Geto’s taking your star-struck moment to swirl the ends of two fingers inside, scissorin’ and bullying all their slender inches. 

They were the hands of the strongest Firebender of today. 

And they were smearing apart your snug channel. Squelching. Smushing themselves inside- the sheer length of them…oh, it felt like they were about to go on for daaaaays. And you’re rutting up into his vicious thrusts with a whimper, “P-please…”

“Please, do it if you must.” He breathes out scalding pants. Nostrils flared. Skin red. You’re left utterly shocked at his admission- you look up into his eyes and they’re crystal clear. “If it shall bring you peace- do it.”

Gaping, “Wh-what do you mean me…”

But he’s only honing his slick-glossed, slithering digits. And he’s such a quick learner, too, he’s locating your g-spot with only a few more thorough thrusts—his favorite target. That pulsing area writhes underneath his touch- and you know where he is exactly when the heat spreads from Geto’s fingertips. 

Leaving you ruined both inside and out.

Leaving him grinning around the gummy nub of your click. Sucking.

“If that is to be your wedding gift-” The mound of his voicebox pushes deeper against your blade, a hairsbreadth away from something irreversible. “-then take it-”

“Sh-shiiiiit—” Tearing up.

“If that is what you’ve been dreaming of all this time-” He continues, voice growing more and more guttural by the second. Geto’s practically gulping your pussy into him, clinging onto him. Quivering. “If revenge is the only thing th-that’s let me cross your mind…if only for the briefest second, then I shall thank it.” 

Streaming down your cheeks now. “Su—fuck.” You could feel the twisting and turning at the pit of your stomach as you grew ever-closer. 

He continues. “If it is what my wife desires…then so be it.” Was he fucking drunk? Was he talking out of…of your pussy? There was a slurring edge to Geto’s words, toppling over one another. And those beautiful amethyst eyes of his struggle to remain open - blinking lazily - as he laps n’ keeps lapping at your leaking pussy. Those juices smearing all over his jaw. “Kill me.”

Then down to the column of his throat.

Then collecting on your trembling blade.

Geto’s boring straight into your eyes as he utters. “But until then, m’gonna keep making you cum over and over again.” Quirking the curvaceous tips of his fingers to ram straight into your g-spot- he makes you shatter. “For as long as I have left to live, m’gonna make you the happiest woman on Earth.”

“That’s just unfair-” You’re damn-near sobbing. One of your hands claws through his night-black hair, and the other uses the flattened edge of the dagger to let you see his face better. “That’s just really, really unfair…”

“I was never a fair man.”

Then you’re being fucked through your waves of bliss like never before- those looooong, arching cresendos of dopamine through your body. Those white-hot stars. The edges of your vision blurring. 

And the only thing your muddled mind can think to do is plant your feet flat on the mattress and arch- and press your drippin’ cunt closer to his face. As Geto Suguru suckles on your clit, he traps it between his teeth and draaags it out far enough that you yelp. 

All the while, his fingers were slammin’ straight into your g-spot. Over and over.

Rubbing the softened tips of it to that pulsing spot—he’s elongating your orgasm like never before. He’s making you feel those carnal sensations in eeeeevery single ridge and crevice inside your cunt, three of his fingers stuffing you full by now. “Never was an understanding man.” He gasps through French kisses on your clit - every time he rolled his tongue over it, you were mewling. “Never was a kind man- hngh. Never was a good man.”

Smack! 

It resounds even louder than the last few, the feeling of his heated-up fingers spanking your cunt. 

And you swear you’re sent straight over the edge for a second time—

“I can only promise to be the damn best husband for as long as I have.”

It’s with this notion in mind that you’re dragged through your intense peaks, and once you’re finally coming back to - it’s to the sound of Geto pulling away from your spent pussy with a loud slurp! He follows the stray wires of sap that still connect him to you- pressing a final few kisses before finally wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then looking you deep in your eyes as he then licks off the glowy sheen that covered his skin. 

This was what did it for you.

You’re raising your stone-cold blade high—high, higher, and even higher then. Until it was well above his head, and then—

Slashing it down to decimate his outer robe. 

Even Geto himself looks shocked at this- before you’re grabbing ahold of him by the shoulders and dragging him up onto the bed. It dips with a groan at the weight of you both, its ancient springs equally as shocked, and you don’t care if you’re causing a commotion when you pull him by a lock of his hair till your back rests against a vast metal headrest. Against your skin, you could feel the twists and twirls of some intricate wooden carving - but the only thing you could focus on right now was him.

Him and the aching, throbbing erection he was sporting in his loose trousers. 

The fabric paper-thin. The outline of his cock obvious.

He was so looooong and deliciously curved to the right, hard enough that you could spot at least one thick vein prodding down the side of him. Precum had seeped from the top of his blushin’ red crown and darkened a patch in his trousers; it sticks slightly to his skin as Geto rests a hand on the hemline and teases taking it off.

“Do I need to bend a dagger for that, too?” You quirk a brow.

“Hah…” Geto huffs out a laugh, “No need to exert yourself, my little Waterbender- or more like…my wife.”

Ah, his wife.

His wife.

His wife.

And then your…husband does the honor of stripping down his only remaining piece of clothing.

And the first thing you notice is that he’s even bigger than what your imagination had concocted. Red-hot and throbbing.

A slight spattering of black curls dust his base, and partway up his navel. It glistens with beads of precum that just refused to stop streaming from the tip of Geto’s cock - hard. So painfully hard. 

Fucking painful.

Even contact with the frigid air seemed to make him quiver, n’ his cock was pulsing so hard that you could physically count it from where you were seated. Eyes wide and gaping - you don’t feel the slightest bit abashed about staring, and Geto doesn’t seem the slightest bit self-conscious. He’s got a gorgeous cock, and he knows it. 

It feels so hot as he places the ruddied tip straight on top of your raw cunt and presses down. Not even easing inside- just smushing your folds down so that you’re getting a good feel of him.

And you do, of course.

You’re grabbing Geto by each one of his luscious deltoids and digging your nails into the firm muscle. Crashing your lips into his. Hissing, “I-inside.”

Making his velvety, sap-covered tip squeeze between your pussylips. He’s entering you with a buck and a cracked groan at the back of his throat—“I already am, general.” Just a single inch inside and he sounds breathy. Just a single inch inside and his head drops forwards- a curtain of inky black hair falling around you like a veil to the world. 

You’re reaching upwards and taking out his signature golden hair pin. Even more of it.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this…vulnerable. 

And then the Fire Lord’s throwing your legs over his shoulders and bending you flexibly down in half, hands finding purchase upon either side of your waist n’ slamming his hips into you like a madman. “And I’m have a d-damn good time fucking my wife.”

Geto’s reeling his lower half back- all the way until his ruby-red tip is purposefully stretching your hole out. Feeling you - just feeling you.

Before giving you a thorough thrust from the crown of his cockhead and down to his thick base. So thick. Your mouth’s falling open into a similar ‘oh’ that your pussy’s being expanded into. 

Then repeating.

And repeating.

“Fuck, she’s so wet. Is that because you’re the- hah, land’s greatest Waterbending master-”

“Shut up.”

“And if I refuse?” There’s that hint of mischief in his voice you recognized from your past. “And if I claim that this pussy actually lov- liked this mouth of mine not too, mmm, long ago?” Through a clenched grin and furrowed brows, he somehow manages out. “So what do you have to say about that, general?”  

Your maw keeps dropping open the more and more of his jagged thrusts he’s placing. “W-weren’t you the one who said he’d be happy to- even hngh—die by my blade?”

“I was. I am.” He replies - and it’s so earnest that you don’t have anything more to say to him. Suddenly, Geto’s giving you a right slam! of his cocktip- colliding against what feels like the very back of your throat. “And I stand by- ngh, every word I said.”

“Th-then…”

Before you’re able to sputter out anything more, he’s reaching his right hand down. Snaking his long fingers between those plump pussylips of yours - Geto plaps! the flattened edge of his thumb down on top of your clit. Then starts rolling n’ rolling over it in time with his solid thrusts. And just as every passing second made you keen out more…it also made you more honest. 

And he could tell.

Geto’s feline smile presses on top of your forehead: a chaste kiss. One he’s repeating on your temples, your nose, either side of your cheeks, your chin, and finally your lips.

Humming against them, “But the reason I said that was because I’m in love with you.” And he says it so easily. Shock courses through your body- or perhaps that was just the feeling of him slammin’ into your g-spot. You get the distinct feeling that Geto had known where it’d be all this time - already having mapped you out with his roving fingers - and that he’d been holding out until this exact moment. “But why aren’t you completing your mission, yet?”

Your lips tremble- “I…”

“Let me make it clearer for you.” Gravelling tone pitching just a bit—just as he punishes out another slam! of his fingertips against your stuffed pussy. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He tosses his head with an attractive smile, “Is it because it feels too good? Be honest.”

Well…You’re scoffing, “You wish-”

He grins an irresistible grin before scorching his fingertips against your swollen cunt once more. Those Firebending powers of his certainly weren’t at full capacity - they weren’t even being used at a fraction of it. 

And yet, it still made itself known in how even the tiniest bit of contact made heat sprint through every atom, every axiom of your being.

And you can only clench your hand around Geto’s damp hair, feeling the glide of those silken locks through your fingers. It makes the man hoverin’ above you on the bed wince—letting out a throaty noise of ecstasy as you’re handling him so meanly. He fucking loved it. 

He’s dreamt of this for too fucking long.

Noticing this, you’re wrenching him back by his hair and spitting straight into his pretty mouth. Those pouty lips of his enclose immediately ‘round the sweet glob of spit you’re letting out - and he’s trying to kiss you almost immediately. “Mmmm…” Geto’s long lashes bat shut. At the very split-second that it had landed, you swore you could’ve felt his bashin’ cockhead swell even bigger. “Thank you, my wife.” 

Eyes opening once more- you see there’s such a carnal glint in them that you can’t explain.

“But don’t think that’s gonna make me forget.” And suddenly, you’re understanding just why his name was whispered far and wide. Why not a soul in his palace seem to speak a word against him. For fear, or…Yet another swat. “Why haven’t you killed me yet, my little Waterbender?” 

It was honestly feeling more like an interrogation at this point. 

Mockingly, Geto cocks his head to the side and bears you his throat.

Perfectly unharmed and unscarred. The thin line where your blade lay earlier was practically invisible. 

“C’mon…let me make this even clearer for you.” He goads, “Here’s your target. Here’s your enemy—kill me, my wife. Let’s see if you can, general.” Something almost maniacal in his grin, Geto’s dashing his dark hair backwards like a mane and pressing his forehead to yours. “Aren’t you the greatest Waterbender alive? You’re here because you’re bound by duty, are you not? Then why don’t you?”

A few harder thrusts. 

Eyes wide. Tone crazed. “Why don’t you—?”

Why don’t you? Any other soul would stop themselves out of fear- perhaps out of proximity. 

Good thing that you weren’t just any old soul.

And so you’re summoning that blade once more in a way that feels almost subconscious- your mind wasn’t really concentrated on the weapon. How could it be? When Geto’s plummeting cockhead was only growing speedier and speedier by the second - his round, reddened tip swirling about your insides and pinpointing every spot with his white precum. They were just the sloppiest strikes. 

Again and again.

Upturning even the smallest slick orifices and bruising his circumference into your spongiest depths. Your cervix stung with the imprint of him. 

Absolutely tortuous despite your training.

Which might be why the handle of your blade’s already half-melted; water dripping down your hand by the time you’re raising it to Geto’s pretty throat once more. “I…I am bound by my duty.” You breathe.

The enemy Lord’s grin widens as he registers your words. So you were finally taking the bait…

He looks down at the misshapen, gnarled excuse of a blade pushed to his throat—and notices the droplets of water cascading down your arm. And without a single warning, he’s craning his neck down - avoiding the sharp edge of the weapon - to liiiiiiick up those ice-cold droplets on your skin. It feels almost teasing looking at his tongue like this, already knowing what it’s done to you once. 

Murmuring almost awe-struck, “I am the general of the rebellion’s Waterbending faction and I am here to kill you.”

“Yes—” He whispers. Pitch raising. Octaves higher. “Yes.” There’s a thundering squelch! between your legs as he then grips onto your clit with torrid fingers. 

Your blade raises- ready to strike. “Geto Suguru, you are hereby to be assassinated at the hands of the new age. An act of revolution.”

“Yes—”

“An act of peace.”

“Fuck- yes.” Brows knitting once you clench. 

“An act of…love.” Impatiently, Geto then turns to smack! the glossy top of your clit. To pinch it. And he does it with heat-coated fingers that make you see stars. 

He stares at you, and you can’t look away. “So do it.” Almost gruffing the words out at you. And for how long he’s been saying these words to you, it’s just now hitting you at full force that this was a challenge. And how cocksure he was…“So kill me if you can bear to do it.”

For your nation, for others, you have to do this—you have to. Your hand trembles on the handle of the squat dagger. It feels small and almost…childish in your hands. But the longer the pause stretches between you two, the more it melts - until your weapon is nothing in your hands at all.

It was futile and you always knew it was. He did, too. 

This was never going to happen.

Especially not when he was fucking you so incredibly—

And you’re merely wrapping both around the back of Geto’s head and tugging him to you.

You’re crashing our lips into his with a moan. “I can’t-” You gasp. You gawk. You’re barely breathing every time his mouth’s parting from yours and slamming back down with an even harder kiss. “I can’t bring myself to kill you, Suguru.”

Pain. It sounds like defeat. But to Geto Suguru, he’s heard no sweeter music. “And why is that…?” The infamous Fire Lord tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth. 

“I-I don’t-”

Smack! Right on top of your clit. Honesty, remember?

“That’s not an answer.”

Heat coils between your legs - almost feeling like flames licking at your skin. He was making it clear that you were putty in his hands. “Please-”

Smack! Harder. 

“It’s b-because I…”

“Speak up, general.” Smack! Smack! Smack! Harder. Three consecutive slaps of his fingertips- before you could even attempt to formulate an answer. Though Geto wasn’t completely merciless…at least not with you - he soothes over the sting with a few glissades of his fingertips. Pressing down on your knobbly clit then and combatting the pain with pleasure. Pinching. “Your soldier can’t hear you.”

And then you don’t know what exactly is doing it for you: perhaps the flared ridge of his tip, oh-so-perfectly grazing over your g-spot—or perhaps the way those half-shuttered eyes of his were staring down at you.

Practically boring down.

Seeking your soul.

There’s such an intensity about him- and you’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the way the air around you two heats up a few degrees. Palpable to a degree. Your skin perspires, and a bead of sweat runs down Geto’s own temple. 

Tensely balancing at the edge of his jawline as he whispers. “Tell me, my heart…”

“I-it’s because I love you, too.” The confession comes rushing out of you before you even realize it. But once it’s out in the sweltering open air - there’s nothing more to do.

Nothing more to see. Nothing more beautiful than Geto Suguru’s pinched brows as you somehow - somehow…as though refusing to let himself believe such an idea - surprise him. His eyes glisten, his lips part. And that toned chest of his shudders just a lil’ as his breath hitches.

For a long time, Geto doesn’t let out anything but a few rasping grunts as he fucks you—fully and thoroughly—

And then he’s collapsing on top of you n’ puncturing out a few more sloppy strokes. Body hunched into yours. Mouth open and pressed on the column of your throat.

Heat bends around Geto’s fingertips - thrumming with energy, nearly vibrating - when he captures your clit. Harder. 

Geto feels you clenching around him - throbbing furiously - and echoes out a prolonged grooooan as your third high of the night overcomes you. “Sh-shiiiiit—” It’s not one that you were expecting, and the sudden flashes of white behind your vision leave you startled. Your head drops back, and you’re mewling out Geto’s name twofold. “S-Suguru-”

“You haven’t called me that in years.” A drunken grin spreads across his face. One hard thrust that bangs into your g-spot. “Say it again-”

“Suguru-”

And one more spank. Sparks of pleasure more than you could register. 

“Suguru—”

Your yelping n’ yowling were like music to his ears; the sweet sound of victory. And every time his pace quickened, your pupils are left dazed and confused—blinking up at him blearily. 

Babbling.

“What’s thaaaat, my little Waterbender?” Geto’s pert lips twitch with amusement on either side, and he’s soon leaning his head down to hear you. To tease you by mimicking not hearing you—“You’ve got something to say to your lover? Heh- or maybe it’s to your husband?”

“It’s something to the- hngh, pain in my ass.” You snipe out.

His free hand reaches down n’ gropes a good handful of your ass. “We haven’t gotten there yet.” 

And as your mouth drops open as his sheer audacity- Geto wastes no time returning your favor from earlier by spittin’ straight into your maw. Letting you swallow it before he’s thumbing over your clit again, “As I was- fuck! saying…”

“Mhmmm?”

And instead of just telling him - you suppose that showing him would be just as effective. And you’re running your hands all over the curves and muscles of his sturdy body; along the plush area of his pecs, and then down wherever you could reach his abs—pathetically reaching to grab onto Geto’s dripping, ruby-red cock. “I need you inside.” 

His fingertips flare with his- slamming down on your clit once more. You just felt so raw and perfectly overstimulated. “I already am…?” Geto raises a brow. 

“No—” You shake your head. And as for the bending powers…two could play that game. Without a single warning, you’re bending the moisture at the tips of your digits and dropping their temperature starkly - making the powerful Firebending master shiver at the play with heat. “I need you to cum inside me, Suguru.”

And you always did know he was weak for first names, didn’t you?

Because in no time, Geto’s then hiding his blushing face into the crook of your neck- and gluing his ravenous hips to yours. With a few twitches deep inside, his scorching-hot tip bubbles over—finally.

And then he’s pouring out bucketload after bucketload of hot, gooey cum.

Body bowing. Toes curling. His long hair was knotted and dampened with perspiration, sticking to your own clammy body as he’s tangling the two ever-closer. 

Geto isn’t even completely done with the crescendo of his high before he’s already attempting to fuck every ounce of it inside you. 

Sticky. It’s a satiny mess between your legs, and Geto’s ecstasy was just the tip of the iceberg. “Fuck.” The true sloppiness presented itself when it was time for him to fuck each and every wad into you - directing the sheer volume of it with his fat red cock. A thorough prod of his shaft leaves a few droplets being swerved straight into your womb. “O-oh, fuuuuuck-” 

“Shit.” Just as he utters his sensual sounds - all of the stray parchments in the room catch on fire and peter themselves out. Instant. He’s bending the combustion in the air around you two. “Oh, gods…”

Without a single word.

Without a single intention.

You’re still suffering from the sultry aftershocks of your own high- and yet you have to clear your head. You have to be the rational one. “Suguru-”

SLAM!

Before you can sputter out anything more, he’s reaching an arm out to grip onto the headboard and leaving you speechless.

Just the sound of you saying his name- just the sound of you saying his name had his heavy balls clenching once more. And suddenly you’re feeling an even greater warmth seep into your stomach—Geto’s cumming once more. And the veiny length of his shaft was just accumulating it all at the back of your pussy with squelch after squelch!

Broken, mangled remains of your name escaping his throat. 

You can’t help but stare up at the corded muscles of his biceps- arms enough to…kill for. Almost as soon as you’re thinking the thought, you watch as Firebending seeps out of his limbs n’ melts through the metal headboard. Geto’s catching the look on your face with a priggish smile.

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes.

“I didn’t say a thing.”

He didn’t have to. Because he’s pressing on your stomach after the final zap of his high has completed - burnished red cockhead finally calming down - and he’s watching the cum drip out of you. All of him—that he’s stuffed lovingly inside your pussy. 

And Geto doesn’t think he’s felt more victorious. 

“Suguru..” You start. “Earlier, when you said something about you having no power-”

“I meant it.” He wasn’t lying. He looks deep into your eyes, “As the Prince Regent I am technically the one authority in the palace. Yet it remains a farce…my father still holds one true reign, and the council has decided unanimously that he rules from his deathbed. How competent, yes?”

You ponder, “I see.” Then you ask—“Did you ever read…”

He looks at you so intently, and you shake your head and rephrase the question.

“Why didn’t you answer any of my letters?”

“Letters?” Geto’s eyes flash. “You wrote letters?”

“Oh, Suguru…” Such sadness in your tone. It was obvious they’d never even reached him. “Almost every week for the first few years. I stopped when the war commenced…seemingly by your doing.”

Nearby, a loveseat catches fire and immediately puts itself down. Lips trembling, he grits out—“I…I had no idea.” Enraged. “Those fucking elders- I wondered whether you’d just gotten sick of me-” 

“What? No, don’t be stupid-”

He chuckles, “Glad to know you still think so highly of me.” Nuzzling your cheek.

“I do.” You stubbornly hold back your tears, “And I need to know…how in league are you with the Zenins?”

And to your surprise, a smile spreads across his face. “The Zenins?” He rests his forehead against yours and sighs, “Silly Waterbender. The entire reason I was sent to Mount Inferno in the first place was over a fight about the Zenins- and even then, they bartered their son in there to keep an eye on me. And if I was in cahoots with the Zenins to any degree, would I have started the rebellion?”

Your heart skips a beat. “You’re the one that started the rebellion?”

“Yes, from the confines of my lavish prison, unfortunately.” Geto grimaces. “Though I’m glad it got strong enough to this point. It was me who sparked and funded the idea…even misinformed the imperial guard away from where riots took place. But the uprisings, the community, the victory- that was entirely the peoples. While the only thing I could do was sit here and play nice with the Zenins.” Bitterly.

Pulling him deeper to you. Two halves of the same future: you think back to Lady Tsukumo’s prediction. “My big, strong husband. Was poor wittle tea time tough?”

“Oh, it was deplorable.” He jests.

And Geto exhales properly as though the first time in years.

You ache for him.

Just as he aches for you. For your past and for your future. “I’m sorry, my wife.” He tremors after a long stretch of silence. “All this time…I wish I could’ve been a stronger prince.”

You can’t help but punch him softly on his shoulder, “Stupid Suguru. It’s okay. We’re all just grown-up kids pretending we know the way.” Sniffling. You could have a real wedding later, you could make up for time later. “But you better make it up for these nine years we didn’t see the fire lilies, or else…”

“I’d do anything for you.” He breathes. Lips pressing to yours, “I’d let the world burn for you.”

.

.

.

History will remember this day.

As the start of how a bender from the Water Nation would one day become the Queen of the Fire Nation; as the start of a reckoning that started from within the palace itself and spread like a disease into the lands outwards; as the day of revolution. 

The Zenin family has long since held the palace captive.

Sitting up on their perfumed, padded cushions and ordering the extinguishment of anyone that wasn’t like them. It was upon their orders that the Fire Nation attacked—and on their orders that the war was prolonged. Nine years of death and destruction.

And that night, after wiping yourself down, you’re sneaking out of the royal suite once Geto’s eyes had closed. Roaming the dark, winding hallways like a predator at night; your eyes were wide and your Waterbending thrummed at your fingertips. Now it had an edge and was begging to meet flesh. 

The first chamber that you’d encountered after exiting the marital bedroom was the current King’s chamber - one that Geto had told you had been banned to him since he could remember. He hadn’t seen his father since he’d first gotten here nine years ago. Perhaps because of the decoration and distraction of the wedding, the door had finally been left unlocked and you could peer in. And from the foot of the doorway, you stood watching—as one of the Zenin ministers sped a spoonful of curdling concoction that should’ve been medicine. Perhaps.

But the sweet, simpering smell that drifted from it told you something else. 

Fire lilly.

Poisonous when cooked. 

Your fingers twitched—and you were just about to send a deadly stream of water spearing through the man. But a sudden tap on your shoulder make you jump-

Whirling around to find Geto.

He smiles at you warmly, and then mouths something in the semi-darkness. It’s hitting you instantly what he means: this one is mine. It’s his revenge to take. Nodding understandingly, you watch as the spark of Firebending starts to curdle around his digits—and you’re scurrying off into the darkness with a kiss pressed to his cheek.

You know exactly where you need to go.

You’d made note of the layout when Nobara had escorted you around.

And she’d given this room a wide berth.

Silent as the shadow that falls, dawn licks at the edge of your figure once you’re walking up to a bed chamber and knocking. Just a light rap. And before whomever was inside can answer, you meld into the shadows behind—just as Zenin Naoya steps out, you’re wielding a dagger of your water and ending him. 

A clean cut. Right across the throat. 

Because the Zenins, in starting this war, never intended for Geto Suguru to become King. They hoped for him to abdicate such a blood-soaked throne, or at best for an assassination from you…which was why Naoya himself had written you the letter. You did think it was strange that Geto’s handwriting wasn’t even the faintest shadow of what you remembered it to be. They had an inkling that you wouldn’t be giving yourself up to the Fire Nation so easily.

They wanted Zenin Naoya to be King.

The body falls.

A single life will be lost on your wedding night at your hand. Before Dawn has defeated darkness, darkness shall be defeated within. And red shall stain the floors of a royal suite.

The Sun is clawing away at a new day. 

In blood as we are borne, two worlds reunite under life and death.

A/N. MWAHHHHHH-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[princessy]

so many people hating on the first two eps when it’s so perfectly 2016 kdrama coded?? there's even a subway plug?? fake kdrama lovers dni, you’re ruining my fun with your ignorance!!