TO THE MOON & BACK.

QUIT !

[rinxiaa]

DREAMSCAPE!

— vyn, she/her, minor, looking 4 moots!

I luv ling I <3 angst | suga kinnie ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᯓ★ Wanna be moots? Heres my byf. Lets see if our stars align ! (∗˃̶ ᵕ ˂̶∗)

ᯓ★ Don't know the rules yet? No problem, this is my rules to make sure the sky isn't too dark ! (҂ ꒦ິヮ꒦ິ)

ᯓ★ Oh no! Lost in the sea of stars? I present you my navigation. Dreams will guide you ! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ

ᯓ★ reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated ! ღ´͈ ᵕ `͈ )♡⃛(´͈ ᵕ `͈ ღ

[lowkeyren]

—my lady, why have you forgotten me?

in which : under the care of an endearing knight who seems far more than he lets on, you can't help but notice his gaze often lingers on you as if forgetting him was the cruelest thing you could’ve done.

wc: 11.1k (it gets better as u read i promise!!), historical / royalty au, knight x princess, reader is from aedes elysiae, let’s give it up for sir phainon aka yearnmaster3000, childhood friends + amnesia, fem reader referred to as “princess” / “my lady”, art by 子执子知 (id: 61319986479) on douyin.

this is what happens when ure unemployed n have a big fat crush on phainon. enjoy !

PROLOGUE: WHY WON’T THE HANDSOME KNIGHT MEET MY EYES?

you’re not sure what’s stranger.

how natural it feels to walk beside prince mydeimos again after all these years, or the fact that he is personally leading you around castrum kremnos like an old friend.

which, technically, he is.

you grew up crossing paths at the same royal festivals and formal banquets, you even attended mydei’s own coming of age ceremony at some point. though you rarely saw each other beyond such occasions, you still managed to build a rather good friendship over the years.

“this way,” he says, pushing open the doors to the training grounds.

you squint against the sudden sunlight. the rhythmic clang of metal against metal reaches your ears as dozens of knights spar in duels, while others run drills under the barked commands of their captains, sweat darkening the collars of their tunics.

somewhere in your chest, a distant ache stirs.

your parents had only your best interests at heart. they wanted you somewhere safe especially after the assassination attempt that left you with only half your memory intact.

the neighboring kingdom, castrum kremnos, was the obvious choice; home to the finest warriors in the land, and close enough to your homeland that you wouldn’t feel entirely adrift.

and so, here you are now, a year after your coming of age ceremony, standing on foreign soil under the protection of another kingdom.

they hoped a change of scenery might help you heal after all these years. 

“i was told,” you say, “that i’m to choose a knight.”

mydei nods, “it’s customary. you’ll remain under kremnos’ protection regardless, but a personal escort will ease the council’s worries. and your parents’.”

you don’t suppose you like the idea of having a glorified babysitter in metal armor, but alas, you understand why it’s necessary. 

finally, you come to a stop at the edge of the training grounds. “choose carefully. these men and women will lay down their lives for you, should the need arise.”

your eyes sweep over the crowd, scanning the lines of soldiers before you—until they catch on a certain figure and don’t move again.

he kneels like the rest, yet something about him sets him apart.

snow-white hair falls loosely over his face, obscuring most of it, catching the sunlight like spun silver. with his head bowed, you can’t see much, only the sharp line of his jaw, the smooth curve of his cheek. 

but what little you can glimpse is almost ethereal; the kind you might even call beautiful. 

mydeimos’ voice rings out, taking you out of your trance and dismissing the knights back to their training. boots scuff against stone at the command as they stand and begin to disperse across the grounds.

as they return to their drills, you sense more than a few lingering looks subtly aimed your way—brief, curious flickers of the eye; some seem eager to catch your attention, others simply taking in the sight of the visiting princess. 

where the others can’t help but sneak a glimpse, you notice he doesn’t so much as lift his head. 

his focus locked somewhere far from you. not once does he look at you; in fact, he’s the only one who doesn’t.

you glance back toward the field just as a commotion starts to stir.

from your vantage point, it’s easy to spot a few older knights surrounding a younger recruit, likely an inexperienced junior, judging by his awkwardness and stiff movements. 

the knights goad him with swings he clearly struggles to deflect, one even slips in a low sweep that knocks him off balance, and when he stumbles back, barely managing to stay upright, the laughter that follows is nothing short of mean-spirited.

in the midst of everything, one of them even glances toward you.

ah. so that’s what this is. show-offs, the lot of them. 

your brows furrow slightly at the sight in front of you. the hits aren’t hard enough to injure, but still, that’s no way to treat your comrades! you’re just about to lean toward mydei to ask if this kind of thing happens often when—

the white-haired knight approaches with a calm, unhurried gait, tilting his head slightly in a casual nod.

“three on one?” you hear him say, voice clear even from a distance. "doesn’t seem very fair to me."

“captain,” one of the older knights replies, straightening slightly, though there’s still a trace of a smirk on his face. "we’re just testing the rookie’s reflexes. builds character, you know."

“oh? then let me help.” he draws his training sword in one smooth motion, the blade gleaming under the sun. “how about i take his place? i could use a little discipline myself.”

a short silence follows; the knights glance at one another. 

then, with a begrudging scoff, one of them steps forward, rolling his shoulders as he raises his blade.

“don’t go easy on me, captain.”

“wouldn’t dream of it. though if this is your way of impressing her highness…” he briefly flicks his gaze up toward you, the look on his face is hard to pin down—

“you’re doing a terrible job.”

ACT I: WHY HIS LOYALTY WAS MINE ALONE

the spar that follows isn’t violent, but it’s unmistakably a lesson (one the egoistical bunch sorely needs).

the white-haired knight meets every blow with ease, and effectively disarms his opponents. the difference is immediate. 

by the time the bout ends, the three knights lower their blades, avoiding his gaze as they shamefully retreat with stiff bows. the white-haired knight gives the junior still watching from the sidelines a quick, reassuring pat on the shoulder, and murmurs something you can’t quite hear.

you blink.

that was… unexpectedly gentle.

and very impressive.

“you’ve got a sharp eye. that’s phainon, the captain of the royal knights,” mydei adds with a touch of reluctance, “the only one here who can rival me in a spar, unfortunately.”

you stifle a laugh. the image of the oh-so-mighty mydeimos getting knocked flat in training is too good to resist. must be frustrating, being shown up by your own subordinate.

he shoots you a sideways glance. “you look like you’re thinking something rude.”

urk… nevermind! 

anyway, you feel a bit guilty; you’d meant to observe everyone objectively, to judge them fairly by their skill. but admittedly, you’d been staring more at his face than anything else on the field here.

still, as that little display just now proved, he also happens to be the most capable one out there (given that he’s the captain and all).

so really, it’s a win-win isn’t it?

your eyes naturally drift back to him across the courtyard, and when his gaze unexpectedly meets yours, you offer a small, pleasant smile. 

for a moment, something in his expression falters. his pupils seem to dilate ever so slightly like he’s been caught off guard, before he quickly averts his gaze as though he hadn’t seen you at all.

“do you know him?” mydei asks, curiosity evident in his tone.

“no,” you reply without hesitation.

his hair—snow-white, so striking in a way that feels impossible to forget. you’re almost certain you would remember it if you had seen him before, somewhere in passing, though where or when eludes you.

you brush the thought aside. probably just a trick of the eye.

while you’re busy conversing with mydei, you miss the way his gaze keeps drifting to you whenever you aren’t looking; and how, earlier, when your eyes passed over him without a trace of recognition, he turned away just as fast.

mydei gestures him over; he approaches and comes to a stop before you both, offering a courteous bow.

when phainon lifts his head, his eyes find yours—and for the first time, he doesn’t look away. they’re warmer than you expect, startlingly soft, and the way he holds your gaze makes your breath catch a little. 

you blink, unsure what to make of the sudden attention, and even more unsure why it leaves your heart skipping a beat.

but before you can dwell on it, he drops to one knee. “thank you for choosing me, my lady,” he says, voice steady. “i’ll protect you with my life.”

ACT II: WHY I FELT SOMETHING AKIN TO WARMTH

you don’t remember much of your childhood, not after that day. your memory fractures like shattered glass around the moment you were attacked, during the afternoon you snuck out.

your parents told you it was a group of mercenaries that vanished without a trace after the failed assassination and that you were lucky someone nearby had saved you in time.

whoever it was carried you back, left you somewhere safe enough for the guards to find you in a bloodied and unconscious state, before disappearing without any indications of their identity. 

the search that followed led nowhere. there were no witnesses, and your testimony was of no help either, you couldn’t recall a thing about the attack. even now, it’s all a blur, likely a side effect of the trauma caused by this incident and the coma that followed. 

and though you tried, again and again, to recall the face of your savior… there was nothing. 

still, some part of you is convinced it wasn’t just a stranger. deep down, you’ve always believed it must have been someone dear to you—and the only person that comes to mind is a boy your age who you’d often sneak off to play with when you were young. 

but you can’t recall his name. or what he looked like. not even the sound of his voice. 

but whoever he was… you’re certain he was the first person who ever made you feel truly loved.

since your arrival at kremnos, the letters haven’t stopped.

every few days, a fresh stack arrives. you open elegant envelopes sealed in wax; promises of affection, proposals of alliance, declarations of admiration from noblemen near and far, so on and so forth. 

you never read past the first few lines.

today is no different. you absentmindedly sort through the pile as they gather on your desk, eyes glazed from the monotony—until a familiar crest pressed into pastel pink wax catches your attention.

from… countess cyrene?

countess cyrene of aedes elysiae; though your duties often kept you both endlessly busy, the two of you still exchanged letters now and then.

you’ve always looked forward to her letters. this one is no different.

the letter comes in her familiar flowing script. she writes that word of your stay in kremnos has reached her—and she’s delighted, at last, to have a reason to visit. once her family matters are in order, she promises to make the trip and see her old friend again.

you continue to read for a while, barely noticing how the sky softens into twilight. and at some point, without meaning to, you fall asleep.

when phainon finds you, the room is quiet, bathed in the gentle hush of dusk. 

you’re fast asleep beneath the warm spill of fading light, your breathing soft, the faintest crease between your brows. you’re slumped over the desk, cheek resting against your arm. 

he pauses in the doorway. maybe it’s the way your features have softened in sleep, or how the dying light catches the way your hair falls over your face. maybe it’s because, just for a moment, you look almost delicate to touch.

his gaze traces your sleeping face, and something tender tugs at his chest—so achingly soft it almost hurts. 

he really wants to call your name.

but as a knight, his loyalty belongs to the empire, and with that vow comes a line he’s sworn never to cross—one that makes love for a princess he serves forbidden.

wait, what was he thinking? he quickly shakes himself awake.

because if he lets even a sliver of that feeling slip through, he’s not sure he’ll have the will power to stop himself from crossing that line.

so instead, he shrugs off his cloak and drapes it gently over your shoulders, hands careful not to graze your skin. 

he tells himself this is enough. it has to be.

by the time your eyes flutter open, he clears his throat. 

“forgive me, your highness,” he mutters, his voice gently pulling you out of your slumber, “i merely wished to shield you from the wind.”

you blink up at him, still bleary with sleep; and the tips of his ears turn the faintest shade of red under the lazy, unfocused way you look at him.

“it’s quite alright. thank you, sir phainon.” 

but his heart knows better than to believe it’s truly enough.

that night, as you lie beneath the silk canopy of your bed, eyes lost in the dim glow of the ceiling, your fingers find the necklace resting at your collarbone.

you toy with the pendant absently; you don’t remember when it was given to you, only that you’ve had it for as long as you can remember. 

and as always, your thoughts drift to him.

your dearest childhood friend—whose hands were as soft and warm as summer. he’d reach for you, and you’d follow without hesitation, slipping past watchful guards into the wild beyond the palace walls.

you’d race through sunlit fields until your lungs burned and laughter spilled freely from your chest; lying beside each other as you chattered on about suffocating etiquettes in the palace, while he’d offer you pastries from stalls in markets you never get to visit. 

being with him always smelled of freshly bloomed wildflowers and sun-warmed earth—the kind of scent that clung to your sleeves long after you’d returned to the palace, hoping no one would notice where the young princess had been all afternoon. 

you remember the weeks after you woke from the coma; how every morning, you’d pull back the curtains and press your forehead to the cool glass, eyes sweeping the grounds in silence.

waiting for a glimpse of a familiar wave. 

but no matter how high the sun rose, no matter how many mornings passed… that never came. and even now, you still find yourself wondering—

why didn’t he come back for you?

you pull phainon’s cloak a little closer around your shoulders. it smells faintly of wildflowers, just like those days you still dream about.

and somehow, that’s enough to lull you to sleep.

ACT III: WHY, YOU ARE THE APPLE OF MY EYE! 

in the stillness of the royal infirmary, long after the palace has fallen quiet for the night, a young boy stands beside the bed of the unconscious princess. 

a dark hooded cloak hangs off his small frame; even tucked beneath the fabric, the pale strands of his snow-white hair caught what little moonlight filtered in.

he lingers quietly, gaze fixed on her face, bruised and bandaged. his hands tremble as he reaches for hers, lifting it gently to his lips before pressing a soft kiss to her palm. 

then, he tucks a delicate necklace into her hand and folds her fingers around it.

it is a modest thing, barely worth a glance to anyone else, but he had spent the last of his coins on it the moment it caught his eye at the market stall. a sun-shaped pendant. it reminded him too much of her—warm, bright, and out of his reach.

“wait for me,” he whispers. “i’ll be strong enough to protect you one day, no one… no one will ever hurt you again,” he whispers just barely above his breath. “i promise.”

he could’ve sworn her expression softened, the crease between her brows smoothing ever so slightly, as if his words had reached her in her slumber. in his hopeful haze, it felt real enough to believe the faintest smile on her face was meant for him.

taking one final glance, he slipped away the way he came, vanishing into the shadows before anyone knew he was ever there.

phainon, as it turns out, is surprisingly easy to talk to.

conversation with him flows more naturally than you’d imagined. he listens well no matter how trivial the topic is; and maybe it’s the cute way he tilts his head when he’s curious, or how he noticeably brightens just a little when you laugh—you can’t help but notice there’s something undeniably charming about him.

you learn this as the two of you walk through the outer streets of kremnos.

mydei had suggested you take time to acquaint yourself with the city beyond the palace walls, and you’d agreed without hesitation. a quiet stroll sounded like a welcome change of pace.

of course, you couldn’t exactly parade through the city without drawing unwanted attention. 

so you and your knight both don simple cloaks over your usual attire, hoods drawn low to obscure your faces. from a distance, you look like nothing more than a traveler and her escort.

the narrow lane eventually opens into a quieter square where flower stalls line the street. a thought strikes you. 

“sir phainon, if you had to choose,” you say, glancing at him from beneath your hood. “say, what would your favorite flower be?”

phainon blinks, “…a flower? my lady, i don’t think i’ve ever been asked that.” he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

“but surely you have one.” you insist, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

phainon’s brows knit slightly as his gaze sweeps over the stalls. for a moment, he looks lost, till his eyes linger on a bouquet of sunflowers, their golden petals tilted toward the fading afternoon light. his gaze flickers briefly from the flowers to you, then back again.

“sunflowers, maybe.”

your smile widens. “is that so? i suppose sunflowers are really unique, especially their tendency to follow the sun wherever it goes.” 

when you glance to the side to gauge his reaction, you realize he’s already looking at you. you almost miss the faintest trace of color dusting his cheeks as he squints slightly, as though he was looking directly into the sun itself. 

“for your lady, sir?” the vendor asks brightly, holding up a single stem of sunflower.

phainon startles as though woken from a dream. his eyes dart from the vendor to you, and he straightens abruptly, clearing his throat. the faint blush that had lingered on his face deepens.

“she’s not— i mean— well, yes, if she wants, but—”

you can’t help laughing at phainon’s flustered reaction, taking the flower yourself. “i’ll take it then, thank you.”

he finds himself trailing just a step behind you as you skip ahead.

and it dawns on him; perhaps sunflowers don’t choose to follow the sun, but because they simply can’t help it. no matter how far its warmth drifts, they’ll always turn their faces toward the light.

and as he watches you from behind, phainon realizes he’s doing much the same.

ACT III: WHY I FELT A SENSE OF DÉJÀ VU

the dagger pressed cold against her throat.

“not a word,” the man hissed. his voice was calm unlike the tremor in the maid’s hands as she stood frozen, the tip of the dagger tracing the hollow of her neck. “do exactly as i say, and you’ll live.”

“p-please,” she stammered, lips quivering. “i beg, don’t—”

outside, the corridor was silent. most of the guards had been drawn away toward the western gate, distracted by a false report of intruders. the eastern wing, where the princess’s chambers lay, was almost deserted. just as planned.

the man’s gaze darted toward the far end of the hall. “where is she?”

“i— i don’t know. her highness said she wished for some—”

the dagger pressed deeper, drawing a thin bead of red beneath her chin.

“...in her quarters!” she gasped. “please, don’t hurt—”

“get me the oil,” he shoved the maid aside. make sure there are no witnesses, we’re here to assassinate the princess.

moments later, the corridors of the east wing filled with the faint scent of smoke.

the maid dropped the oil vessel and staggered back, horrified by what she had done; choking on her sobs as she fled down the hall. he watched her go until the sound of her footsteps faded, then tipped the lantern, adding fuel to the fire.

the flames leapt to life, devouring everything in their path.

you rise from your chair, a surge of alarm clawing at your chest.  “is someone there?”

no answer.

by the time you reach for the door, the handle sears your palm with heat.

flames crackle as tendrils of smoke curl beneath the doors, making way into your chambers. just outside, unsuspecting attendants flee in panic, their screams muffled as they scramble through the palace.

you snatch a cloth from the table, and douse it with water, wrapping it around your hand before grasping the scorching handle. 

but just as you brace to pull the door open, you freeze—dark streaks of oil begin to snake across the floor, seeping in from the gap beneath the door. 

your stomach drops; in the next second, flames bloom like wildfire at your feet. 

you instinctively take a few steps back. it claws at the edges of the curtains, the heat pressing in from every side as your lungs burn with each ragged cough. 

a wave of icy dread crashes over you. every gut screams that this is no accident. the oil creeping deliberately under your doorframe leaves no room for doubt: someone did this on purpose.

could it be that they have returned for you, after all these years…?

your heart leaps when the window starts rattling violently; shattered glass and shards scatter across the floor as someone steps through the broken pane, hands bare and bleeding from the jagged edges of glass.

“sir phainon?”

the sight of him through the haze makes your heart stutter. 

“what are you doing here? you should—” you cough violently, waving at the acrid air. “you should get out… it’s not safe here!”

phainon’s eyes dart toward the door behind you, where he knows other guards, dispatched the moment the fire broke out, were racing to reach your chambers.

but as he suspected, there was no safe passage leading to you. thus why he had to find an alternative as soon as possible. 

without a second thought, he finds a way in himself, barely feeling the pain in his bloodied knuckles nor the scorching hot flames, driven by nothing but the need to reach you before it’s too late.

“forgive me, my lady, but i cannot obey that order.” 

and though he says nothing more, the truth is written plainly across his face— you are all that matters to him. and the thought of losing you again is something he can’t bear to even imagine.

“please hold on to me.” you barely manage to question him before he sweeps an arm securely around your waist, pulling you close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest. the fire devours what’s left of the room as he braces his bleeding hands against the shattered sill, blood smearing faintly across the glass.

“phainon—your hands—”

he grins faintly, “you can scold me later, princess, preferably when we’re not on fire.”

before you can respond, he lifts you through the window and out into the open air; instinctively, you grab at the front of his cloak, clutching the fabric to steady yourself.

the cold rush of wind hits you like a wave, stealing the heat and smoke from your lungs. 

he lands hard against the grass outside, his body twisting to shield you from the fall. his hand finds the back of your head, guiding it against his shoulder as he absorbs the brunt of the blow. 

the impact jostles you both; for a heartbeat, neither of you moves. you can only feel the rough fabric of his shirt beneath your fingers, the rapid, unsteady rhythm of his heart pounding against your palm.

phainon exhales shakily, his grip loosening just enough for you to lift your head. concern is written all over the beautiful face laying under you, but neither of you seem to remember how close you are.

“let’s get you somewhere safe, my lady.”

he kneels beside you, hands moving with careful precision as he dampens a cloth and gently wipes the dirt from your skin. 

you notice the faint tremor in his fingers as he tends to the scrape along your arm, the subtle tension in his jaw; his eyes that flit over you… your face, your hands, your shoulders, as if searching for possible wounds you haven’t noticed yet. 

“i’m not badly hurt,” you murmur, watching him.

he pauses, eyes flicking up to catch your gaze. “even so, my lady,” he replies, “it eases my mind to be certain.”

“thank you, i’m alright, really.”

he knows he has no right to act as anything more than your devoted knight, yet he tends to you with a fervor that defies norms. each careful touch, each lingering glance, speaks of a devotion that goes far beyond; protecting you has become a desperate, almost instinctive need for him. 

his fingers brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead, lingering a moment longer than necessary, and for an instant the world outside the safehouse feels like it’s miles away. the closeness and the warmth of his hand against your skin, makes your chest tighten unexpectedly. 

he clears his throat, snapping himself from the reverie. “i merely wish to ensure you are unharmed.” 

you nod, “but what about you, phainon?” 

phainon, phainon, phainon… how long had he waited to hear those two syllables fall from your lips? the sound rolls off your tongue like honey, enough to make him delirious off its sweetness.

you tilt your head at his lack of response, eyes lowering towards his knuckles; the blood may be wiped away, but the marks of the glass-cut injuries remain. 

“…does it still hurt?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand before he can draw it back.

his hand is warm and rough in your grasp; you trace the edges of the cuts gently, thumb brushing over a faint streak of dried blood.

“you shouldn’t have done something so reckless,” you mutter, tearing a strip of cloth from your sleeve to wrap around his knuckles.

phainon watches in silence, gaze following the furrow of your brow, the faint crease of worry that doesn’t belong on your face.

and as your fingers tighten the makeshift bandage around his knuckles, his heart pounds loud enough that he’s sure you could hear it, if you only leaned a little closer.

unfortunately, this humble warehouse was built to house only one person at most, which explained the lone bed pushed against the wall. 

at first, he stubbornly insists on sleeping on the floor, but you protest, unwilling to let a wounded man rest on the unforgiving floor. 

in bed, he tries to give you most of the space, or at least he intends to… but with his broad frame, it’s impossible not to take up more than his fair share (despite his genuine best efforts).

so when your shoulder brushes against his, he stiffens, and you notice the subtle way his hand flexes around the sheet. the bandaged fingers of his curl involuntarily, white-knuckled, the muscle in his forearm trembling slightly as he wills himself to remain still, to restrain the urge to reach out, to pull you closer. 

he convinces himself it’s the soreness in his knuckles keeping him awake, not the warmth of your body pressed against his side. 

he stares at the ceiling long after you’ve drifted off (though he can’t help but sneak a few glances from time to time), listening to the even rise and fall of your breathing.

seeing you safe and here beside him once more, it’s the same comfort he remembers from long ago, like coming home after a long, restless journey.

after all this time, he finally has the chance to keep his promise.

the thought is enough to coax a small, unguarded smile to the corners of his lips. 

INTERLUDE: WHY A PROMISE MUST BE REMEMBERED

his breathing was ragged, his steps uneven as he darted into the narrow alleyway behind the market. dust rose beneath his boots, mingling with the late-evening light that spilled through the cracks between the rooftops.

he hadn’t stolen anything. he swore he hadn’t. but when the steward’s silver ring had gone missing, and he’d just happened to pass by with his ragged appearance, that was all it took for them to put the blame on him. he learnt that explaining was futile when the haughty steward shut him up and called for guards immediately.

he pressed himself behind a crate, trying to calm his breathing. the echo of guards shouting carried faintly down the street.

“he went that way!”

... “don’t let that rascal get away!”

just then, a figure in a pale dress peeked in, her gaze sweeping the shadows before landing right where he hid.

...!

he bit his lip, eyes squeezing shut, praying to whichever god was listening to him—that she wouldn’t call out to the guards.

“hello?”

his eyes snapped open and he swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. “…please don’t tell them i’m here.”

she tilted her head, studying the boy crouched behind the crate. “what’s your name?” she asked.

“...phainon.” 

“phainon,” she repeated, as if you’re testing the sound on her tongue. “i like that name!”

“well i’m—”  she began, but her words were cut short.

“your highness!” the guards called from behind her, relief flooding their tone when they finally spotted the young princess. “there you are, we’ve been looking everywhere! what are you doing here?”

she you blinked, casting a quick glance back toward the crates, before stepping away inconspicuously. “nothing,” you said lightly. “i thought i heard something and got a little lost.”

“but it seems i’m the only one here.”

the guards exchanged uneasy glances, hesitantly, they inclined their heads.

“understood, your highness. it isn’t safe here, please let us escort you back to the palace before your tutors notice,” one said.

they turned to lead you out of the alleyway, but before you followed, you looked back. 

snow-white hair peeked out from behind the crate. his lips parted, as if to speak, but no sound came.

you smiled instead, lifting a finger to your lips to shush him gently, then gave him a playful wink as your parting gift. 

phew...

thank god they—wait. wait, did the princess of aedes elysiae… just wink at him?

you don’t see him again for several days, at least not until another quiet afternoon when you manage to slip past your attendants once more. 

beyond the palace gardens, down a sloping hill and through the meadow, there’s a quiet spot by the riverbank where almost no one ever goes.

that’s where you find him again. barefoot, sleeves rolled to his elbows, rinsing mud from his hands in the river. sunlight glints off his pale hair, the ripples painting silver lines across his face. he startles when he notices you standing next to him. 

“…your highness?” he blurts, nearly stumbling to his feet.

“so you do remember me.”

there is something about the way he looks at you then, more so resembling the awe of someone faced with a miracle he never quite believed he’d see again. as some people are remembered as heroes because they save lives; while others, like you, because they give one a reason to keep living at all.

he straightens quickly, bowing his head, his hands still damp. “i didn’t expect to see you here, your highness. the palace is quite a ways off.”

you step closer until your reflection joins his in the water. “what a coincidence,” you muse. “i come here often, yet i’ve never once seen you. perhaps it’s fate, then.”

you tilt your head. “what are you doing here, anyway?”

“my parents’ field is nearby,” he says, awkwardly drying his palms on his trousers. “i was fetching water for them, your highness.”

you hum thoughtfully,  glancing at the wooden buckets by his feet. “then i suppose i’ve interrupted your work.”

he shakes his head quickly, almost flustered. “no-not at all! you could never be an interruption, my lady!”

amused, you can’t help but giggle at his reaction. the sound makes him blink, unsure whether he’s said something foolish or funny (or both), he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scratching at his neck before lowering his gaze again, a bashful smile tugging at his lips.

after that day, you find yourselves meeting there more often.

“my lady, are you sneaking out again?” “maybe… but you won’t tell on me, right?”

neither of you ever spoke of your meetings to anyone. a young princess had no business secretly spending her evenings with a commoner, after all—what would the court say if they ever found out?

yet, despite the vast gulf of social status between you, you never treated him as lesser; and he finds himself drawn to you more with each passing meeting, until he can’t help but notice that his thoughts turn to you long before the day ends. 

those little observations grow heavier in his chest as years pass, loving a princess is dangerous, but loving a commoner would be no less so. perhaps you both sense it; even the adults, if they ever knew, would likely dismiss it as nothing more than a fleeting childhood affection, a puppy love that simply, cannot last.

but looking at you now, you seem almost ethereal. is it truly selfish of him to wish you’d never leave? to hope you wouldn’t one day be wedded to some noble prince more fitting of your position? 

to imagine himself there instead—if it were him standing beside you, would you look at him differently then?

he hates the way his heart dares to reach for something it has no right to want.

it is such an ugly thought, a feeling so unworthy of you, he fears it might taint you if he even dared to—

“then… when i grow up and become a princess who gets into all sorts of trouble—”

he blinks at you, as though the sweet sound of your voice had pulled him out of a dream. “all sorts of trouble?”

“yes,” you said solemnly. “you’ll come save me, won’t you?”

the boy paused, looking down at his calloused hands. the breeze rustles through the grass, carrying the faint scent of river water between you; he nods, surprisingly earnestly. 

“of course, i’ll save you, no matter what.”

you smile brightly at his response, holding out your pinky toward him.

“then it’s a promise!”

he hooks his finger with yours.

“of course, i’ll protect you with my life!”

that day, the sun may be blazing brilliantly overhead, yet its light pales beside the radiant warmth of your smile, a light that touched his heart with a tenderness no dawn could ever match.

ACT V: WHY HE COULDN’T BEAR TO SEE ME SMILE AT ANOTHER

after a pleasant conversation with the knowledgeable lord anaxa, you slip out of the ballroom, and as always—phainon falls into step behind you the instant you turn away.

you push open the imposing doors leading to the balcony; cool night wind rushes in, brushing across your skin like a blessing after hours drowned under chandeliers. the music dulls to a distant hum as the doors ease shut behind you.

exhaling, you lean against the marble railing, letting the air fill your lungs. phainon steps into the moonlight, his gaze softens when it lands on your back.

“my lady,” he says quietly. “are you alright?”

jealousy doesn’t show easily on him.

usually, he’s a man with no need to covet. but nothing about you, or the way he feels for you, has ever been “usual” to him.

every time a noble leaned in too near, every fleeting touch on your arm as if they had any right to—

“yes,” you murmur, tossing a look over your shoulder and offering him a faint, tired smile. “i just needed a breath of fresh air.” your gaze drops for a moment before lifting to him again. “thank you for staying by my side, phainon.”

it reminds him, cruelly, of the place he stands, of what he can and cannot reach.

a low hum trembles through the air before the first firework bursts into the sky, scattering gold across the night. you both look up instinctively, the sudden glow washing over your faces. 

another follows. then another. soon the sky is filled with blooming flowers, each one painting your skin in shifting hues of amber and rose.

“look phainon!” petals of light drift downward, reflected in your awe-filled eyes, “it’s lovely, isn’t it?”

his breath catches at the way you grab his arm out of excitement (moving just enough that the warmth of you grazes against his side), the soft delight in your eyes, the way you lean forward slightly, lips parted in astonishment—

it coaxes dormant parts of his heart awake, blooming slow and treacherous like flowers touched by the morning sun.

“yes,” he says before he could help himself. 

yet his gaze rests nowhere near the sky, but rather, on the spectacle that lives inside your gaze, the reflection turning your eyes into something soft and luminous.

he thinks that if there is beauty to behold tonight, it exists far closer than the horizon ahead.

and maybe that is why his next words sit so heavily on his tongue.

“my lady.”

“hm?” your expectant eyes meet his.

phainon swallows.

“in a week or so, i will be stationed at the frontlines away from the capital for some time,” he begins.

you blink, surprise flickering across your face, this is news to you. your fingers tighten on the railing.

you had hoped, more than you dared admit, to spend just a little more time with your beloved knight.

“how long?” you ask with a disappointment you try to swallow down. 

“a few years.”

“i see.” a hollow ache blooms beneath your ribs, as if something dear to you is slipping out of reach.

his fingers curl at his sides, knuckles tense; every word he’s buried for years pushes its way up his throat before he can stop it. “and there is also something i have been meaning to say. my lady, i—”

a thunderous crack splits the sky above, drowning out the rest of his words in a blaze of gold.

you tilt your head, “sorry, what was it?” you call over the roaring cascade. 

phainon’s mouth opens—then closes again.

“…nothing,” he turns his gaze away from you, “it can wait, my lady.”

and you, standing inches from him, remain blissfully unaware of the words he had finally dared to speak.

the ballroom is nearly unrecognisable once emptied. 

you and phainon’s footsteps the only sound left in a place that had been overflowing with grandeur only an hour ago.

“a shame i didn’t get to dance properly tonight,” you say, half jokingly. 

“is it?” he asks softly.

you shrug, smiling faintly. “i suppose so.”

“in that case…”  he bows lightly, “if you’d allow me, my lady.” 

“you know how to dance?” you ask, the hint of a smile tugging your lips.

he exhales a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting. a flicker of playfulness ghosts across his face. “why don’t you see for yourself?” he returns with an unexpected hint of teasing gallantry.

you laugh and slip your hand into his.

his palm at your waist warms through the layers of your gown, its delicate threads woven by none other than the esteemed seamstress, lady aglaea.

he looks down, drinking in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks from the cold air, the soft part of your lips as you exhale. 

for a man so adept at his weapon, his hands felt remarkably soft on your skin.

phainon’s breath caresses faintly against your temple as he spins you gently under his arm.

you both fall into a gentle sway, soft laughter escaping every once in a while.

he lets himself savor the moment, allowing himself this small indulgence: to believe, if only for tonight, you might recognize him in the same way he has always known you.

ACT VI: WHY I WAS JEALOUS OF HIS 'SECRET LOVER'

phainon almost never left you unattended, but mydei (of all people) was someone he trusted without hesitation. and today he had been ordered to train the troupe preparing for the frontlines, leaving you in the prince’s hands for the afternoon.

left alone with mydei, you slipped into your chairs across from one another with a glass of wine in hand (while he sipped his familiar pomegranate juice). 

he regales you with stories of past misadventures, a surprising number involving phainon when he first came to kremnos; the image was so endearing you found yourself laughing, unable to picture that small awkward boy beside the tall composed figure you knew now.

“so how did phainon earn a place among the royal knights? seeing as he’s not of kremnoan blood and all.” 

“oh? and what makes you say that?”

you lift a hand in gentle surrender. “only a feeling.”

that earns a soft laugh from the prince. “you’re right. he’s from aedes elysiae.”

aedes elysiae… huh. you knew he feels familiar somehow, especially that scent of fresh meadow he carries that reminds you so fondly of the grassfields back in your homeland. “he arrived at the palace gates back when we were barely teenagers,” mydei begins. “walked right up to me, introduced himself, and challenged me to a duel on the spot.”

you blink. “a duel?”

“my thoughts exactly,” he says, amused. “he declared that if he won, i would have no choice but to let him join the royal training ranks. insufferably confident, even back then.”

your brows shot up. “and?”

“the duel ended in a tie,” mydei admits with a wry smile. “which, frankly, was the only reason father agreed to it. that old man said any boy who could match me blow for blow deserved at least a chance.” he pauses, swirling the juice in his glass. “we became sparring partners after that. i suppose as a warrior, it was impossible to ignore his determination.”

“in that case,” your gaze drifts toward the empty doorway where phainon had stood earlier, “i should thank that past version of him. had that duel ended differently, our paths may never have crossed.”

“so you’re saying you’re glad i didn’t best him?”” mydei arches one brow in mock offense. 

you huffed a soft laugh. “…i wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

he shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “unbelievable.”

“well whatever the outcome of that duel might have been,” he says with unusual gentleness, “i have no doubt he would still have found his way to you.”

you blink, then let out a short incredulous laugh. “really? what’s that supposed to mean, your highness?” you wave it off as a jest, half flustered.

to hide the warmth rising in your cheeks (which now, is much more obvious than the pomegranate tint in mydei’s glass), you clear your throat and reach for the safest refuge you know: changing the subject! 

“anyway,” you say lightly, though your heartbeat has yet to settle, “do you happen to know why phainon wanted to be a knight in the first place?”

the prince hums, tapping a finger absentmindedly against his glass. “well, it would’ve been a waste not to put all that talent to use. but,” he leans back, eyes narrowing as he sifts through old memories. “truth be told, he mentioned it once. during a rather… heated match, of all times.”

you perk up. “he did?”

“he said he wanted to become strong enough to keep a promise he once made to an old friend.”

…an old friend?

“it seems he’s cherished that person above almost anyone else.”

you let out a quiet laugh, though it tastes oddly bitter in your mouth.

but before you can press mydei for more—

“talking about me?” phainon steps through the doorway, his eyes flicking between the two of you with a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips.

soon the three of you settle around the table, drinks in hand. laughter spills as easy as the flow of river; stories and playful jabs make the hours slip by almost unnoticed.

“so, almighty mydeimos! pray tell, does her highness know about the time i landed ten perfect strikes on you in a row?” / “even she knows that’s a generous exaggeration, captain…” "—i demand a rematch! it's not fair, you wear way less than me-" / “wait so… when you said ‘heated’ match you actually meant… a sauna battle?” 

rain spills from the sky without so much as a whisper of warning, chilling you to the bone in seconds. without a word, phainon shrugs off his heavy overcoat, lifting it above your head as a shield while the two of you hurry toward the carriage mydei had summoned.

inside, the carriage is dim and quiet, the only sounds are your uneven breaths and rain drumming against the roof.

when you arrive, phainon steps out first and offers his hand, guiding you to your chambers.

the warmth of the room hit you as you sway while fumbling for a towel. “i… i can manage.” you frown slightly, digesting the aftermath of the wine lingering in your system. 

“with all due respect, my lady… your alcohol tolerance is abysmal.” his voice carries a chastising tone as he steadies you by the waist before you can tilt forward again.

you ignore the comment, turning your body to face him directly. 

“now what are you d—”

his unfinished reprimand dissolves the moment your fingers slip into his hair. snowy strands cling damply to his temples as you gently pat his head, droplets gathering on your fingertips with every ruffle.

phainon goes completely still.

his hands remain at your waist, tense as if he can’t decide whether to retreat or hold you closer. you don’t know what came over you—but the more his ears redden, the more your hand (and your heart) insists on continuing. 

and gods, the thought flashes across your mind before you can stop it: 

he’s… kind of like a drenched puppy.

a really, really cute one.  

phainon swallows hard, collecting his words. “…my lady, it’s getting late. you should rest. i’ll take my leave—”

he steps back to excuse himself, but you catch his hand before he can reach for the door. 

“phainon.”

your fingers tighten around his wrist. “do you…like me?”

the tipsy haze in your veins makes every flutter in your chest impossible to ignore.

“of course i do, my lady,” he says quietly. “ there is no one i am more devoted to, my loyalty has always belonged to you.”

“then…” you swallow and lift your gaze to his, wavering. “do you like your ‘old friend’ more than me?”

phainon blinks, taken aback. “my—pardon? what do you mean?”

you push on, unable to stop the words tumbling out, soft and slurred with hurt you didn’t realize you were holding.

“mydei told me you seem to like them a lot,” you insist. “so much so that you even came all the way to kremnos just to train your best for their sake.”

you aren't sure what kind of reaction you expected. defensiveness, denial, irritation, anything—but certainly not the way his expression melts.

“...you really don’t remember, huh,” he whispers under his breath.

gently, he pries your hand from his wrist only to place it against his still-damp chest, right over the rapid thrum beneath his skin.

“you know,” he murmurs, eyes lowering. “every time you say my name,” beneath your palm, his heart hammers against his chest at a rapid pace. “this place becomes a mess.”

you can feel the tremor beneath his skin, sense the heat radiating from him as he lowers his mouth near your ear, breath warm against your neck. 

“i like… no, i love you. always, and only you.”

a warmth blooms in your chest, hot and dizzying. you let out a small, hiccupping laugh, words catching in your throat. “i—” you falter, leaning into him just as his hands come up to steady you.

phainon’s eyes meet yours again, the subtle lift of his brows showing relief that you don’t pull away just yet. “but please… get some rest now, my lady.”

his tone is tender, as if he fears staying too long might make leaving impossible for him. 

not that you’d mind if he didn’t.

(your head is a total mess the next morning. phainon was right, your alcohol tolerance really was abysmal.

amid the dull pounding behind your eyes, your thoughts flit between your childhood sweetheart… and then, to phainon. 

a part of you wonders, if maybe the two aren’t so different after all. could it really be that the one you’d always held dear is the same person standing beside you now? something about him makes your chest tighten in a way that feels… eerily familiar.

you can only hope to make sense of your own muddled feelings soon.)

ACT VII: WHY HE FEIGNED IGNORANCE (UNCONVINCINGLY)

there's a saying that once fear finally cracks a man, the truth often spills in fragments; grudging and ugly.

the warehouse reeks of iron and damp rot, the kind of cold that settles into the deepest parts of the bone. 

the assassin is long past any condition to resist. 

he hangs slumped against the pillar he’s been chained to for weeks, wrists swollen where the iron has scraped in too deeply. dark bruises bloom along his jaw; while dried blood crusts the corner of his split mouth.

a blade slides beneath his chin and tilts his face upward.

the wielder does not speak. he stands enshroud in shadow, his pale hair catching what little light the warehouse offers.

the assassin’s eyes flutter open to meet the cold, unwavering gaze before him. “i already told you everything i know.”

the white-haired man remains motionless, sword still pressing up beneath the prisoner’s jaw. “so she was nothing more than a tool to you.”

a hoarse, mocking laugh crawls out of his throat. “you’ve kept me here long enough,” he mutters. “don’t tell me you’re a coward, captain.” 

turns out provoking him was a bad idea.

“if her highness had died in that fire,” blue eyes almost delirious looking as they fix on the man before him. “you wouldn’t still be breathing right now.” 

the truth is, phainon had arrived late that night because he’d first cornered the assassin, swiftly knocking him unconscious, and dragging him here before sprinting back to the burning hall to reach you in time. barely in time.

and to think he has come so close to losing you again, was an outcome he simply could not accept. 

it disgusts him, tending even minimally to the prisoner chained before him. every scrap of bread, every cup of water—it all but fills him with revulsion. a man complicit in the attempt on your life, merits no mercy. 

“but you’re right,” the knight says at last. “i won’t forgive anyone who lays a hand on her highness.”

the assassin stiffens. “what…” “was i unclear?” phainon’s gaze does not waver, “your time’s up.”

“no—nonono… wait!” his chains rattle as he jerks to the side, narrowly avoiding the sharp blade now dangerously close to his neck. “i told you everything! everything you asked for. you said—you said you’d spare me if i spoke. you promised!”

he promised… he promised… he promised… 

phainon lowers his gaze, pale eyes devoid of heat as they drift away from the now pathetic man trembling at his feet. for just a moment, they hold the same softness they do when they rest on you.

“i did,” he says. 

relief washes over the assassin’s face. “s-so you are a man of your words! i knew you’d—”

“but understand this, she did nothing to deserve what harm you brought upon her. and while she begged for her life all those years ago, you refused to listen for your own gain.” 

phainon swears to fulfil every promise he makes…

“so i see no reason to listen to you either.”

—to you only, of course. 

a princess killed on foreign soil would more or less be an open act of war; most likely have triggered a major political crisis, straining relations between the two kingdoms and their respective allies. 

the knight knew that much the moment the truth spilled from the assassin’s lips. 

if the attempt had succeeded back in aedes elysiae, the damage would have been just as detrimental. a kingdom already seen as weak due to the lack of military strength—what faith would its people have left? panic would surely have spread, leaving its people gripped by fear and uncertainty.

the assassin stammers, panic shredding what little composure he had left. “but she’s still alive, isn’t she? that’s what matters, right? i mean, nothing happened in the end, so—”

his breath cuts off abruptly mid-word, collapsing into a sharp, broken gasp. he convulses, coughing violently, eyes locked on the hilt of the blade pressed against his abdomen, each rasp growing weaker than the last. 

“her life is not yours to bargain with.” 

ignoring the man now bleeding and sputtering before him, phainon picks up the cup lying on the floor, whatever liquid remains inside sloshes weakly against the rim. 

without a word, he tilts it over the assassin’s head. letting the cold liquid slowly cascade down, dousing his hair and clothes.

a hoarse groan escapes the man as the acrid sting of the liquid hits his senses. the sharp, unmistakable scent of gasoline makes his stomach knot with dread. 

he had assumed it was just water when phainon brought it earlier as he always did, but now, with the familiar tang burning his nose…

as if to confirm his dreaded suspicion, phainon lights a match. 

the tiny flame dances, casting a flickering glow across his sharp blue eyes. and for a fleeting instant, it reminds him of that night, vividly; the smoke, the heat, and your terrified gaze. it grates against every fiber of his being, seeing you in pain.

trapped in the inferno, the assassin is left to face what he set in motion himself.

through the haze, he sees it—that unsettling smile of a man who would burn the world down without hesitation, if it meant to keep you safe.

the fire spreads quickly, the knight takes his leave not long before the flames close in and the wooden beams collapse. surely by dawn, nothing of this place will remain but ash.

out of the corner of your eye, you catch a tall figure moving stealthily past you. 

nowadays, you can recognise your white-haired knight anywhere, even from a mile away. but still, your heart gives a small, irrational leap. 

“phainon?” you call out.

he freezes for a moment as if he was caught in the act, glancing over his shoulder before his eyes finally find yours. he jogs toward you as if nothing’s amiss, but you can tell that something’s off.

as soon as he comes fully into view, though his uniform is perfectly neat, you notice the strong smell of iron that clings to him anyway.

“phainon… are you okay?” you can’t stop yourself, concern spilling out as you step closer to inspect him. “what happened? did you get into trouble?”

he tilts his head, then flashes his signature grin. “i’m fine!” he says, “my lady, you know i’m really strong, you don’t need to worry about me.” 

given his habit of deflecting whenever the topic turns to himself, you’re fairly certain he’s just trying to avoid whatever it is. nevertheless, you can’t shake your concern—what if he’s hiding an injury again?

“uh my lady…?” he can tell you’re not planning to let it go anytime soon; your gaze is firm, a slight pout forming as your worry fuels your refusal to back down so easily.

before you can press him further, he steps closer and wraps you in a sudden hug. “see? i’m not hurt.” he murmurs, his tone unusually gentle, as if sensing the depth of your concern.

you stiffen at first, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. “phainon—” you protest, trying (and failing) to sound stern. you give his chest a light push, but he doesn’t budge. instead, he loosens the embrace just enough to look at you, eyes soft, almost wounded, like you’d just kicked a puppy.

“…did i do something wrong?” he asks quietly.

your shoulders slump in defeat.

perhaps realizing it was futile to even attempt to stay mad at this big, stubborn puppy, you sigh and give in, ruffling the edge of his hair and patting him on the back. 

he leans just slightly into your touch, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, clearly satisfied with having “won” this little battle.

though the way his arms remain around you suggests he never planned to let go so easily in the first place.

today is the day the knights are to be stationed outside the capital for the upcoming war against the black tide. the courtyard is alive with farewells from families and friends, but no matter how far you search, you can’t seem to find phainon among the crowd.

just then, you catch sight of someone moving off to the quieter edge of the grounds. there he is—alone, kneeling by his greatsword and polishing the blade with meticulous care.

“phainon!” you call, your voice cracking slightly despite your effort to stay composed.

he stops, turning in surprise. for a brief instant, there’s that faint flash of shock in his eyes—but it vanishes as quickly as it came. slowly, he sheaths his sword and bows politely in greeting.

in the brief space between you, you raise your hand, trembling slightly, and reach up to his face.

“you idiot, were you going to leave without telling me?”

he freezes for a heartbeat, a faint chuckle escaping him before his fingers curl gently around your wrist. please forgive him, he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to you once more.

he lifts your palm to his lips, pressing them softly against your skin—tender and reverent. just like it was when he kissed your hand all those years ago.

“i’ll be back before you know it.”

you slip the necklace from around your neck, the chain sliding free with a soft clink before you place it gently into his open palm. 

“don’t lose it,” you say with a teasing lilt. “you’ll have to return it to me once you come back safely, alright?”

phainon’s fingers close around the familiar pendant, and a small, almost helpless smile tugs at his lips. “as you wish, my lady.”

“then i suppose i’ll just have to wait for you this time, phainon.”

what a ridiculous demand from such a cruel princess—not because it was impossible, but because it left him no choice at all.

the thought draws that same faint, almost incredulous smile to his lips.

there was never a world in which he would not do his utmost to return to you.

ACT VIII: WHY HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS it’s been two years since you last saw him. having returned to your homeland to visit your parents a few months ago, you find yourself wandering the familiar grounds of aedes elysiae. 

the fields are fragrant with late blooms, and the warm sun filters through the leaves, dappling the ground with light. 

ever since that night, when the truth finally dawned on you, the memory has clung stubbornly to your thoughts: his infuriatingly handsome smile, the way he presses your palm to his lips, the beating of his heart, his whispers in your ear—it all replays in your mind whenever you even remotely think about him. 

it has to be him… 

overwhelmed by nostalgia, you let your feet carry you almost without thought. soon, a familiar sight comes into view: the shimmer of lake water and the golden wheatfield you’ve returned to countless times as a child. 

you stand at the edge of the bank, closing your eyes and letting the wind brush across your face, a bittersweet feeling arises deep in your chest.

but a sudden rustle comes from the stalks behind you, pulling you from your reverie. you peel your eyes open just as a shadowed reflection ripples across the surface of the lake.

your heart leaps. instinctively, you spin around… 

“...phainon?” a familiar face greets your vision. “so you do remember me.”

your knees almost go weak, your chest tightening at the sound of his voice as you take in the familiar tilt of his head, and the way the sunlight catches his hair just like you remembered. 

and a rush of emotions—relief, joy, longing—crash over you all at once.

“you… you’re really here.” you step towards him, until the space between you is pretty much non-existent.

“i promised i’d return,” phainon murmurs, leaning closer. almost hesitantly, his earnest gaze flickers to your lips before returning to your eyes.

he waits patiently for your nod, and when you finally do, he closes the last of the distance between you. 

you’ve missed him terribly.

you melt into him, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as his hands settle gently on your waist, drawing you closer.

but beyond all else, you love him more than anything. 

this closeness—the undeniable press of your body against his—is all he has ever longed for. it makes him feel light-headed even. 

holding you close, he savors the soft exhale that mingles with his own.

his world is finally back where it belongs.

maybe things would’ve been easier in another life, maybe the gods would take pity and give you both a kinder story.

but to phainon, it makes no difference. not this life, not the next, not the thousand before or after. because he has loved you in every one of them. in every form, his heart always finds its way back to you.

he remembers the warmth of your hand even when he’s born without one. he dreams of your voice in lifetimes where he never learns your name.

even if you so cruelly forget him again, if he must live through it all, he would. again and again.

because this is the most terrible truth of it all: it is the most human thing he’s ever known, to helplessly love you, despite it all.

he loved you, he loves you still, and he will keep loving you—for as long as the sun continues to rise, his heart will belong to you. 

as surely as yours is his.

before the assembled court, the king rises.

“for your service to the realm of aedes elysiae and castrum kremnos,” the king declares, voice carrying through the grand hall, “you are hereby granted a title befitting your deeds. from this day forth, you shall stand among the highest of my lords.”

phainon inclines his head in a respectful bow. “thank you, your majesty.”

“your actions have greatly strengthened the enduring bond between our kingdom, and kremnos.”

“so brave hero,” the king continues, “you may name your reward. gold, estates, influence—whatever you desire shall be yours.”

“i’m honored, your majesty.” he adds, “but i ask for none of those things.”

the king inclines his head, curiosity evident in his expression. “then what is it you wish for?”

phainon lowers himself to one knee. “may i have the hand of the princess of aedes elysiae?”

EPILOGUE: WHY WON’T THE CHARMING PRINCESS MEET MY EYES? 

first gifted by your beloved knight in your childhood, to countless days through battles, then at last all the way back from the frontlines—the necklace’s once-shimmering metal had lost its luster, spots of rust crept along the chain and the pendant bore a few small chips. 

you had told him a hundred times over it didn’t matter, insisting that it was fine just the way it was. you really didn’t mind, it was the thought that counted.

but phainon, being the ardent lover that he is, believed otherwise. 

“here you go, young man,” the old lady says, holding out the carefully mended necklace. its chain gleamed faintly now, polished and whole again.

“this is amazing! thank you so much, ma’am.” grinning, phainon takes the necklace from the goldsmith’s hands.

“it’s my pleasure, dear. come by anytime, okay?” the old lady replies, the wrinkles on her face deepen with her smile as she gently holds both of his hands in hers.

“of course ma’am!” phainon nods politely. 

you giggle. well there he goes again, stealing the hearts of every elderly he comes across. 

slowly, he lifts the necklace from his hand and clasps it gently around your neck. the cool metal brushes against your skin, and for the first time in so long, it finally rests where it belongs.

“there we go,” he says softly, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "all yours again." 

perhaps not used to such public displays, you feel your cheeks heat up. you find yourself unable to meet his eyes, staring instead at the necklace, your fingers fidgeting nervously with the chain. 

phainon notices immediately and can’t help but take the opportunity to tease you more.  

his hand deliberately brushes your shoulder, then trails down to adjust the necklace, fingers grazing your collarbone ever so slightly. 

that cheeky bastard… you can almost see the curve of his smirk from the corner of your eyes.

the sun rises behind you, painting the world in a mesmerising dawn. but in phainon’s eyes, you are the most ethereal sight of it all—because you are his sun.

with a mischievous grin, he tilts your chin upward, coaxing your gaze to meet his.

please allow him to be selfish just this once. he wants to fill your memories with him, to leave traces of himself in every corner of your life, ensuring you’ll never forget him again.

a man so terribly in love with you, phainon only has one wish: 

that is you’ll remember this moment—not just today, but tomorrow, and for all the days that follow.

so that he may always keep you in his sight, in his thoughts, in the quiet corners of his heart where no one else can reach.

won’t you promise him that, his lady?

extended author’s notes: here

thank you for reading !! reblogs are appreciated <3

MASTERLIST

[zozo-01]

"i saw you dancing under a crowded room. (i met you once under a pices moon.)"

after finding out your secret heritage a couple of years ago, you have gotten accustomed to your new life, even looking forward to sitting on that throne one day. the night of your 21st birthday was supposed to be magical, the night that the world would see you graduate from princess to queen. phainon had his own name to ascend, old debts weighing heavy on his shoulders. you may look pretty up there, but that was his throne, not yours. all is fair in love and war, and neither of you would remove your iron grip on the destiny laid out for you. (neither of you would let go of the other.) or: it's a royal frenzy in 18.5K words.

᯽ phainon x fem! reader

᯽ tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Royal AU, Swearing, Minor Violence, Rivals to Lovers, Idiots to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Requited Love, Infidelity, this is a Princess Diaries 2 retelling but reader isn't exactly like Mia, she's got a little bit of attitude to her, Phainon is a bastard, but still in love

᯽ This fic is sponsored by the lovely Div and Jazz over at @the-memokeepers and their it’s cupid, stupid! collab! I chose Princess Diaries 2 so that I get the excuse iof dropping phainon in a crown, hehe! Please go read everyone else's submissions and I hope that you enjoy!

Click here for the AO3 link!!

June 5th, 20XX

Dear Diary,

Your favourite princess is graduating! Finally, after four God-awful years, I can never think about taking another damn exam or do some stupid group assignment. I really do think being group project leader was the best training I could get for being a Princess, or I guess it's Queen now. Grandmother mentioned that she wanted to step down, which I'm still 50/50 about.

On one hand, I think I'd be a good Queen. And I'm next in line for the throne. They kinda don't have a choice, so those fuckers are stuck with me LMAO. But like also?? I didn't even know Okhema existed five years ago?? And now they want me to be Queen?? I cannot lie, that sounds like a bad plan, but last time I was in Okhema, my life turned into a movie and I have a feeling it's bound to happen again.

I forgot to mention too!! Grandma said that I get to spend my 21st birthday at the palace. Where the hell was this for my 16th?? Oh well, all that means that I get to party twice as hard to make up for lost time.

(I should probably tone down the whole swearing thing on account of being Queen. That being said, I feel like even royalty deserve to drop an f-bomb here and there.)

That's all I have for you right now, diary. As much as I love the whole movie life idea, I really do hope this next trip to Okhema will be more… calmer. If not for my sake, then for Grandmother's.

XOXO,

Okhema's Princess and Future Queen!

–

"Ah, you look stunning, sweet child." Aglaea played with the crown on top of your hair. Ever the perfectionist, she smoothed out the stray and rebellious strands of hair. Despite the effort it took to tame your hair, it never quite listened to anyone, just the way you liked it. And once Aglaea deemed it to her standards, she scurried off to the next thing that needed her attention, leaving you to sit in your thoughts for a little bit.

From behind the grand doors, you hear your grandmother's introduction. The faint sound of clapping and cheering for her made your heart swell with pride and fear. That was going to be you one day.

That was going to be you one day.

It was no secret that the palace saw you as the next heir of Okhema. It was your father's duty, your grandmother's and so many men and women before them. Ever so desperate to find ways to connect with your late father, you threw yourself into all the royal prep they threw at you, eager to hold your head straight with the crown's burden on your head. But as the day grew closer, your head started to tilt and sway as the weight of your future became more tangible by the second.

Yes, royal lines are dictated by royal blood, but was that the best way to do things? You grew up in a democracy and while not perfect, it did, at the very least, allow the people to have a say in their government. Perhaps that was what Okhema needed more than a princess fumbling her way into Queendom…

"Are you alright, your highness?" A low voice spoke up next to you. You looked next to you to see your grandmother's bodyguard next to you, his icy blue eyes riddled with concern. His gaze was focused on your nails digging into your palms, unclenching them immediately before any lasting damage was done.

It took a second for the fright to wash over you before you could continue.

"Yes, Mr. Kaslana– er Kevin, I'm alright." You hoped your shaky smile was enough to convince the old guard. His raised eyebrow said otherwise. You sigh, turning back to the grand doors that would open soon.

"Was she… was grandmother ever this nervous when she became queen?" you asked timidly, afraid that you already knew the answer. That she was perfect from the moment the royal burden fell onto her. That she made no mistakes and was flawless in her execution of her rule. That she–

"She slipped and fell into the cake at her first official ball as queen," Kevin said wistfully, a fondness in his voice like he was recalling a memory with a dead lover. (In some ways they were, the crown was their final executioner.) He chuckled at your bewildered face, gently closing your mouth with a hand on your chin.

You couldn't believe that your perfect grandmother was as clumsy as you were. Maybe royal blood and a crown weren't the only thing you inherited.

"Oh, she gracefully returned to her room and the public never scrutinized her heavily for the incident, but I'm sure if you were to ask her about it, I may lose my job. Or worse," Kevin said as he shivered and you don't blame him. For as kind as your grandmother could be, her wrath was nothing to scoff at.

"My point is that it is okay to feel nervous and even if you do mess up, it won't be the end of the world." Kevin tried to smile at you, but it came off very stilted and awkward. You're sure that he's only capable of truly smiling in your grandmother's presence. Still, the sentiment was received and appreciated, so you smiled and thanked him back, just in time for the trumpet fanfare to serenade you.

With one last reassuring smile from Kevin and one last deep breath, you put on your best smile as the doors opened before you. Below from your balcony were your fellow royals and government members, people who some day may bow down to you. In the roar of applause and your nerves, you didn't even hear them introduce your name.

But none of that mattered when your grandmother stood with a smile, pride beaming from her face. You didn't get to see that face often, but you will try your best to have her face permanently have that look.

There was only so much sightseeing you could do at your own party, before Grandmother had decided to introduce you to countless princes and sons of government officials. Talking eventually led to the dreaded dancefloor, where you tried to maintain your composure and grace. Not that your partners made it easy for you to relax and feel the music.

To his credit, your first partner was a good dancer, but the fact he didn't speak English and you didn't speak German made it hard for you to enjoy his company.

Your second partner was so focused on his feet placement, you were scared that you had met someone who was a worse dancer than you. Imagine having you of all people having your toes stepped on?

And you didn't even know where to start with the third. His dancing might have been decent but his hand placements were anything but.

Miraculously, you found your way away from your dance mates to wander the ball room. Everything was so extravagantly made and placed, fit for a royal. It was going to be difficult to remember that you are that royal. Part of you wished you could have invited some of your friends from home, if not to make this grand party feel a little bit more familiar. But maybe they wouldn't appreciate the finer details or the stuffy clothing?

Maybe you changed so much that they wouldn't even recognize you?

Your thoughts came to an abrupt end when you face planted into a wall. For starters, who would put a wall in the middle of a dance floor. Your first act as Queen would be to get rid of that stupid thing. The second thought that went through your head was when did walls have arms to stop you from falling.

"Are you alright, your highness?" A smooth voice spoke above you, voice light as a feather and dripping with charm. The mysterious man pulled you up to your feet, giving you a chance to take a good chance to look at him. Hair as white as snow, yet his cerulean eyes burned with passion. His smile was so warm, it easily disarmed whatever lingering anxieties you had.

(It was actually uncanny how much he looked like Kevin. As if they were alternate versions of each other that had found themselves walking side-by-side because a certain divine figure couldn't find a reasonable replacement to take on the guard role…)

"I'm alright! I apologize for bumping into you." You bowed your head, stumbling forward to hold up the tiara you forgot was on your head. 

"No need to apologize, your highness. The fault was entirely my own and I will survive," he spoke with a certain cheek that you didn't see in the brief exposure you had with high society. This was a beautiful man who knew exactly how he was perceived and was happy to use it to his full advantage.

Oh. This man was going to be dangerous for your heart. 

"Maybe I could get some ice for you," you say as you look around to catch the eyes of any servant or maid who could help you in this moment.  

"It's fine," he said with a gentle hand on your arm. You didn't like how warm and calming his touch was. "These shoes were a little big anyways, the swelling should help them fit better." You absolutely didn't like how his sweet voice could bring you to your knees.

You wanted to talk to him, get to know him better and maybe even get that young romance that you didn't have the time for back in university. But before you could open your mouth to try and get his name, he bid his farewell and walked away. You smell the faint scent of wheat as he passes. What a shame, you supposed being a Princess didn't mean you would get to have your fairy tale story.

What being a Princess did mean was being stuck with more mediocre men for you to dance with. He wasn't a bad dancer, actually it was quite pleasant, but your mind was still stuck on the white-haired wall from earlier. Look at you, reverting into a fool in love all for a pretty smile and kind eyes. 

The dance was pleasant before your partner decided to do the splits in the middle of the dancefloor. 

You stood there befuddled, watching the man do high kicks as if it was quite normal in a ballroom waltz. You would never be one to dismiss other types of dances, but you would at least would have appreciated a warning before! Maybe you wouldn't have worn such knives for heels if that was the case.

It didn't help that you could hear the whispers of the people around you, their laughs and scathing comments hidden behind a cough or a fan. If only the ground could swallow you up and spit you back home. Your real home.

Lucky for you, your knight in large shoes has come to your aid again.

With a simple nod and an outstretched hand, your gymnast of a partner backed off to find some other young maiden to frighten. You held his hand and put the other around his shoulder, your knight guiding you through a predictable waltz.

"Your timing is impeccable, thank you," you sighed in relief. You didn't know how much longer you had in you before you were ready to call this party over.

"Your welcome, your highness," he chuckled, an easy smile painted on his pretty lips. You so desperately stared into his eyes if not to let your eyes wander to anywhere suggestive. Not that you would have mind dragging this handsome man into a corner room, but you fear your grandmother's wrath if you started a scandal on day one of your reign.

"I suppose for saving me twice, you can call me by my real name," you offered, reiterating what it was in case he wasn't here for your introduction. "My friends call me by that name."

"I could," he started before leaning a hair closer to you, "you have this bashful look whenever I call you princess, and I quite like that look on you." He pulled away like it was nothing, like your heart wasn't beating a mile a minute. Just who did this guy think he is?

"Could I at least know your name?" Your words were stiff, not out of discomfort but in the hopes that he couldn't see past the facade to the shy girl underneath. Seriously, you thought you were over falling for random guys, even if this one had a pretty face and voice to match.

"Phainon. Phainon of Aedes Elysiae," he stated with pride. You had heard rumours and stories of what happened to that tiny place, and any time you pressed Aglaea or your grandmother for more information, they would deflect with a guilty look in their eyes. Even you, an outsider, knew of the tragedy that befell the scenic town.

But this was a birthday party, and no place for you to bring up a tragedy with a stranger.

"Well, I am glad that my clumsiness has not affected your dancing." You spun in his arms, grateful that after those disastrous dances, you can finally feel normal. You can even almost delude yourself into thinking that this would be the start of some romantic adventure! "I'm sorry for stepping on your foot."

"You can step on my foot anytime if it means I will get the pleasure of dancing with you." Phainon continued to guide you in the waltz, and the once background comments that were making fun of you were now jealous that you were getting to dance with such a handsome man. Hah! Karma gets its victim in the end!

You were appreciative of the people who were also commenting on how cute the two of you looked.

The bright lights and the loud noise faded away when you leaned closer to Phainon. You remember the stories your mother told of your father, how whenever he was around, she was able to relax around him and vice versa. You were convinced that they were soulmates, and when you were raised with that kind of love, it's hard for anyone else to compete. 

Your mother spoke of sparks and butterflies that would erupt the first time you would see each other. She told you how everyone was made in some part by stardust, and your soulmate would be someone who was born in the same nebula as you. You look into Phainon's eyes and wonder if he would see the remnants of galaxies that you both once shared.

Or maybe you were making a mountain out of a molehill, so desperate for love that you would find it any place it looked like it existed.

(Or maybe Phainon felt the same, with how his own heart was beating and the comfort he felt with you in his arms. He definitely knew you from a previous life– a different universe. A love story that transcends the stars and would endure no matter how many hardships that come your way.)

Your cosmic level revelation was interrupted when a young prince had demanded Phainon to let him dance with you. Sad to see him go, you were glad the child was there as a buffer, lest your heart burst out of your chest in order to find a sanctuary in his ribcage.

For the love of all things– You just met the guy! It's not like you're going to marry him one day! You weren't even sure if marriage is something that you would want.

However, you supposed if it had to be with anyone, you would be okay with marrying him.

After the dance with a child and his strange comments, Aglaea once again whisked you away to remind you that being a princess wasn't just glitz and glamour, there were very real politics that you had to take into consideration. You would argue that maybe your twenty-first birthday ball wasn't the most appropriate place to have these conversations, but alas, here you were meeting the… what was it…

"Aglaea, how many members of Parliament are there?" you whined, leaning back into the older woman's embrace. 

"There are only two more left, your highness." Aglaea held your shoulders to hold you straight up. Great, at least you were almost done with these stupid introductions. Maybe you'll even have the chance to find Phainon before he leaves for the night. Hopefully you could get his number or email in order to see him again.

You aimlessly walk away from Aglaea if only to relish once more in the fact that this is your birthday party. Only to be interrupted by another wall, albeit this one is less handsome than Phainon. 

"Your highness, pardon me– I'm so sorry!" The waiter rambled on with apologies and repentance. Even reassuring that you were okay did nothing to stop the poor man. As you were trying to calm him down, you noticed the waiter looking over your shoulder and when you turned back, there was an older man shooing him away. Rude, you thought to yourself. It was just an unfortunate accident and it wasn't like you were hurt.

You bit back your colourful words and thanked the man, bowing your head a little bit for him to put your tiara back on your head. You might have to talk to Aglaea to get it safety-pinned on you, with how many times it fell tonight.

"You must be more careful, your royal highness," he started as he adjusted your crown to sit perfectly on your head. "Somebody might try to take that away from you." What an odd thing to say, but you suppose he is right. A tiara made of real gold and diamonds would be quite the target for thieves.

"Oh, I hope not." You smile at the joke he made, a little confused as to why his expression was more sullen. You supposed that as is customary with older folk, he was probably more of a stickler for the rules. No matter, you thanked him for his help and walked on back to Agalea, ready for more government officials you will have to meet.

You heard a brief mumble behind you, but you didn't pay too much thought to it, still hung up on Phainon and where he might be.

You didn't get the chance to see him for the rest of the night, but you still went to bed dreaming about those beautiful blue eyes and those warm hands.

–

June 6th, 20XX

Dear Diary,

Last night was a whole dream! I was scared to let grandmother take over the planning, I know how extra she can be sometimes, and I worried she was going to make it the biggest party ever. But it was perfect! Every little decoration to the food to the people was beyond to die for. I kinda hoped my friends back home could have come too… I fear that after graduation, we were all scattered around. But still, I hope they'll be able to see how beautiful Okhema is. It would be nice to have some familiar faces in a crowd like that.

Speaking of familiar faces… Okay, please don't judge me but I think I met the love of my life! I know it sounds like jumping the gun, but if it's Phainon, then I don't know who it is going to be. Everything with him was so easy and fun, not in like a childish 'this is a fling' easy but more… I think he would make my life effortlessly better kind of way. I don't know how to explain it!! It's all so quick and I don't even think I'd be ready for a commitment like that right now. 

I think it would be best if I don't think about this too hard. Yeah, it's fun to have a little crush, but that's all this is going to be, a crush. Not some situationship ass shit where I'm going to cry over a man of all things!! Even if that man is as pretty… and jacked as Phainon… I mean have you seen those arm muscles??

I know the dead technically can't help me, but I wonder if you could help me out dad. Maybe I should call mom to see what she thinks of this.

OH! On another note, grandmother is going to have me sit in Parliament meetings now. Hopefully they can all wear name tags because I'm going to be so real, I do not remember a single one of their names. In any case, this will be good for me. If I'm going to be Queen, then I have a lot of catching up to do on the political end. It will be boring but I fear that it will be necessary.

I'll keep you updated if anything happens Diary. And you need to hold me accountable if I start yapping about Phainon!!!

XOXO,

Okhema's Lovesick Princess

–

With the hour granted by Aglaea, you decided that you didn't want to be cooped up in your room any longer. You didn't get the chance to explore the castle all the much the last time you were here. But this time, you made sure to familiarize yourself with every nook and cranny of your future home.

You wandered through the halls, making up romantic stories in your head. Of kings and queens of days bygone, of knights who fought valiantly to defend their home and of princes and princesses like yourself who wanted to make a name for themselves. You wonder if all of them roamed these same halls, and if all of them felt as incompetent as you.

There was a door ahead of you with light shining through the cracks. Strange, you didn't know there was a path to the outside world from deep inside the castle. Perhaps it shouldn't be too odd, a castle as old as this one must have would have secret passageways. Oh well, more for you to explore.

You pushed past the door and wandered down the dark corridor, enraptured by the stained glass window shining light at you. It depicted a man with golden hair and violet wings and a woman in a red dress and a flaming lance that was almost twice her size. You knew that Okhema had its own mythology that you were aware of, the Titans and the Demigods, the Executioner and the Deliverer. Maybe you should look into more of it, you were always such a sucker for ancient mythology.

Maybe you could even ask Phainon to guide you on where to start. Maybe you could even go to the local museum with him as a little date!

Curiosity got the better of you and you started to touch the statues around you. Sure, these historical artifacts were probably older than your entire family line, but if they were so important, why would they be sequestered into this dark corner?

The fear that maybe you were wandering into a place you weren't supposed to go to didn't stop you from entering yet another hidden passageway. Unlike the first one, this one barely had any light to guide you, the dampness of the wall giving a muted blue tone. You wished you had brought a sweater with you, not realizing how cold it was going to be.

Faint voices came from behind the wall ahead of you and thankfully, there was a flap there for you to flip over. Once you did that, you realized that you really shouldn't be here.

You stared into the room, an active Parliament session happening in front of you.

As much as part of you wanted to leave, you justified staying on account that one day, you would be in that room, commanding the presence that you inherited by blood. Why shouldn't you stick around to see what they were up to?

"So as of the 23rd of July last year, on the occasion of his 21st birthday, another Okheman of the royal bloodline became eligible to assume the throne." That voice! It was so familiar, you were sure that you met him last night! More importantly, how on Earth was there another royal heir? For all you knew, you were an only child, unless your father had any bastard children. But still, that didn't diminish the fact that you still had the best chance of ascension considering you are the literal daughter of the King! May he rest in peace.

Your shock and panic over this new revelation prevented you from hearing more of the conversation. You couldn't hear the rest of the members of Parliament argue the claim. You couldn't hear your grandmother fiercely defend your right. You've never heard her use such crass language in a formal setting.

But the next thing you did hear did make you throw up a little in your mouth.

"Okheman law states that a princess must marry before she could take the throne," said by one of the members you wish you could throw a shoe at.

"We have never enforced that law," your grandmother scowled. "If a man doesn't have to marry in order to take the crown, then why should a woman?" she rightfully questioned. The shifty looks in everyone's eyes made it look like no one had the right answer to her query.

"My granddaughter should be given the same rights as any man." Her back might be to you, but you could feel the heat from her glare, daring anyone to challenge her.

"Yeah!" you yell without thinking, immediately covering your mouth when you remembered no one knew that you were there. Luckily, aside from the confused looks from the Parliament members, your big mouth didn't give away your position. 

"Okhema shall not have a queen," another member – you remember her name being Lord Caenis – had spoken up, although the coward couldn't look into your grandmother's eyes. "Unless she is bound by matrimony. That is the law that has governed Okhema for the last three hundred years."

"The princess is not fit to take the crown because she is not married."

That last line stung. Of all things that they could have cited for your failed rule, why would they focus on the one thing you couldn't control. Even as a princess, with all the power in the world, you still had to bow to the whims and follies of man.

"Forgive me, your majesty," Lord Caenis continued, "not all of us are convinced that your granddaughter is the most suitable option to govern our great nation." When you become queen, and you will just to spite everyone, your first order of business was to get rid of Caenis. How dare she as a woman uphold this law that unjustly and unfairly affected all women. You could not have someone like her stay in power.

The collective 'ooohs' from the crowd bruised your ego more than you would like to admit.

"Now, now, I suggest this honoured body allow the princess one year, during which time she must marry, or she forfeits the crown to the young lord." Bless the Prime Minister's heart for having your back, at least there were more people than you expected in your corner.

But it wasn't fair. It still didn't make up for the fact the rule exists and that your dream life was chained to a man you didn't even know.

"I object! I object most strongly!" the first dissenter spoke again. His unprovoked disdain of your rule had led to anarchy within parliament, with all of them shouting out a fair timeline for you. Again, you would love to remind everyone that the fairest timeline would be none, but alas. That wouldn't make for a good story, now would it.

The gavel went down and a final verdict was given. You had thirty days to find a suitable husband for your status, or you will lose the last connection you had with your father.

You slammed the window that you were peeking out of, running off with burning tears forming in your eyes.

–

June 8, 20XX

Dear Diary,

Why did I think that Okhema was this perfect place where no wrong could happen? I don't know what stupid fairy tale I was living in. I wanted so badly to believe that Okhema could be the place where I could prove myself, on MY merit and make MY choices. But no. Even misogyny and the patriarchy has to fuck me over here.

I have thirty days to find a husband, or else I won't be eligible for the Okheman crown and lose it to this random nobody. Seriously, in what world does marriage status put someone else over the king's daughter? …Now that I think about it, maybe it wasn't merit that got me here but still! You can call a bad ruler or whatever you want but at least give me the chance to fail!

I'm not even against the idea of marrying someone, I just… I wanted it so badly to be someone I loved. The way mom talks about dad… That's what I want. And now I'm going to have to settle for the first man I see because Okhema's future is more important than mine. What if he's ugly? Or rude? What if I'm stuck in a lifetime of mediocrity because I had to settle? Or what if he decides to… No, I can't think like that.

Don't worry, I told grandma all of this. She's on my side of course, but there's only so much that she can do. Even if she wasn't necessarily in love with grandpa (I still think her and Kevin have something going on), she was still happy. It's just– IT'S NOT FAIR! I don't want to be just happy, I want to be in love!! 

Focus. You got thirty days. You can fall in love in thirty days. Maybe you can talk to Phainon, see if he'd be willing to take the bullet. But you got this, you will come out of this on top.

Remember, courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. Just like dad used to say. God, I wish he was here to tell me what I should do.

XOXO,

The Forever Princess

P.S. I'm going to give Parliament a reason not to give me my crown, because when I find whoever this other heir is, I swear I will cut him up and feed him to his uncle!

There were tears on the paper, smudging the ink and hiding the threat you made.

–

You stared at yourself in the mirror, fussing over the stray hairs and wrinkles on your clothes.

Today was the accursed day where you would meet the Lord Lygus – you learned his name so that you could do extensive research – and his stupid ward. You may have had a history of getting into hijinks, but not now. When the stupid pair walk in here thinking they can take your crown, you are going to act like the perfect princess they want you to be. And when they see you do all of this without a man by your side, surely they will concede.

Ooooh, you highness! We were not aware of your gracefulness and competency. Forgive us, oh wise one, we were foolish for thinking a man could have made you better!

You hear your grandmother and Kevin's voices coming down the hallway, talking about the nephew needing security. Yeah, from you and you're going to do it with his faux-royal ass.

"So is this all right to meet the Viscount and his ward?" You did a little spin, showing off the presentable outfit, enough to state your confidence without looking like you were trying too hard. You wished you could wipe your memories of the fact that it may have taken you all day yesterday to plan this outfit. In your defence, your closet was huge now.

"Very appropriate, and pretty." Thank goodness for your grandmother's approval, you wouldn't have known what to do without it.

"I can't believe Parliament invited the guy who's trying to steal the throne to stay with us in the palace," you whined, continuing to fuss with your collar. 

"Parliamanent didn't invite him," your grandmother said with a coy smirk. Your eyes squinted in confusion, waiting for her to continue.

"I did."

Your mind went blank and you stuttered in confusion, not comprehending why she would make that decision.

"I offered to have him hung by his toes in the courtward," Kevin had spoken up, trying to be as level-headed as possible. You could tell that there was a bit of petulance in his voice, like a kid denied his favourite candy. It was still the best idea anyone has had since they imposed this stupid rule on you.

"I think we should go with Kevin's option," you sulked. "A matter of fact, I'd go there and hang them up myself!"

"You will do no such thing!" Your grandmother warned you with a glare, making you shrink back with your anger. It was no help looking for Kevin to help either, whispering that he tried and giving you an apologetic look.

"Anyways, if there is any foul play happening, I would rather it under my nose." Your grandmother sat down, giving the perception of perfection, the kind you would always aspire to be.

You collapsed next to her, all your hard effort to make yourself look presentable being undone with your hands rummaging in your hair. Mad at this mysterious nephew for showing up out of nowhere. Mad at Parliament for enforcing this rule. Mad at yourself for thinking this was going to be easy for you. Was there anything ever made easy for you?

There was not time to wallow in your pity, for the car holding your competition was heard outside. Maybe you could will the car to crash? No, that would be a little too dark. Still, you wouldn't oppose that outcome.

You stood up with your grandmother to welcome our unwanted guests. Hands behind your back, fake smile on your lips and you were ready to speak with the kindest voice that you would muster. Even if it meant pulling teeth and screaming internally to do so.

"I just so don't want to be nice to this guy," you whispered to your grandmother, disdain barely hidden in your voice. "I mean, he is rude he's arrogant, self-centered… he–"

"Have you met him?" Grandmother asks with a raised eyebrow. 

"Yeah, but he probably is!" She wasn't wrong, you had never met the guy, but you were absolutely sure of the man he was. Only assholes would want to steal the crown from a poor, innocent girl. Especially with exposing such a sexist rule. No man with a good conscience would be so dishonourable. "Like now, all of a sudden and out of nowhere, he wants to be King of Okhema? It's bullshit!"

"Oh whatever! Whatever he is, we will be charm itself." Despite her best efforts, you still felt the annoyance off of her. You guessed the royal apple doesn't fall from the royal tree, she's just had a lifetime to try and suppress it. "We will present ourselves with grace and poise."

"Annousing the Viscount Lycurgus, and Lord Khaslana!" The guards announced, taking your attention away from your pity party to stand alert. Remember, grace and poise and minimal stabbing.

The doors opened and the hated Viscount walked into the room. But it was the man behind you, your royal competition, that made your knees want to buckle and scream in disgust.

Behind him, Phainon, the boy you thought could possibly be your soulmate, walked in, hands crossed behind his back and charming smile in full force. You couldn't believe that you dreamt of that same smile. Were you another in a long line of women who were bewitched and taken advantage of?

Your grandmother and the Viscount greeted each other before Lygus turned to introduce his nephew.

"Your majesty, your highness, may I introduce my nephew, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae." Lygus looked at you with a smug look, like you knew about your delusions about his nephew. Stupid little girl.

"Phainon. We are delighted to make your acquaintance." She held her hand out to greet him, while you were still barely comprehending how this became your life.

"The pleasure is all mine," Phainon sweettalked, taking your grandmother's hand and kissing it gently. What an absolute bastard. "And thank you so much for inviting me to stay at the palace." Yeah, of course he his.

"May I present my granddaughter, the current princess of Okhema." Her sly comment made you chuckle, making her elbow your side gently to stop mentally insulting Phainon. Too bad, you can act like a perfect lady and continue to mentally insult him.

(You couldn't. Your disgust was so visible, Phainon almost felt scared at the idea of taking your crown. Almost.)

"Your highness," Phainon said, giving a little bow. But you still wouldn't do him the honour of looking at him. You couldn't risk falling in love again with his beautiful eyes.

"Would you like to greet our guest?" Again was that stern tone she used earlier, the one that made you relent and turn to Phainon and Lygus.

With a sigh and the sweetest smile you could muster, you walked over to Phainon. His head perks up a bit, probably happy that you were falling for his honey pot again. Hehe, like you were going to be that stupid again.

"Lord Khaslana," you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him close to you. Once he was close enough, you stomped on his foot as hard as you could, making sure your very stiletto and sharp heel did most of the stabbing. 

Satisfied with the damage you caused, both to his pride and foot, you turned and walked away. You had to get back to your room so that you could burn your diary pages dreaming about him. Maybe then, your heart would stop stuttering whenever his baby blue eyes are focused on you.

–

June 11, 20XX

Dear Diary,

Men are stupid, boys are dumb. I can't believe I actually wrote the words 'I want to get married' in this diary. The universe is so fucking cruel that the one guy that lived up to my impossible fairytale level standards turns out to be the one making me go through this horrid experience.

Just my luck that Phainon turned out to be the mysterious nephew. I'm not saying I'm going to throw myself out of the castle, but if you don't get an entry in here for the next few months, consider me gone. 

I just can't help but feel so stupid that I was so easy. I already told grandmother because a) she kind of needs to know and b) she would find out anyways. Besides, if he's so willing to use misogyny in his favour to get one over me, then maybe he wasn't so nice to begin with. People can lie and as long as I don't fall for it twice, then it should be fine.

On the bright side, my room renovations have been completed! And oh my God, if I thought my closet was huge before, then it is absolutely massive! All the clothes and crowns and tech in there is to die for, it feels like I have my own Barbie's Dreamhouse! There is absolutely no way I'm going to let a man ruin my mood now, not when I can try on a million crowns and dresses. Even little Billy liked it and if my kitty cat is living like royalty, then so am I. I just hope they don't get lost in the nooks and crannies.

No time to waste and no time to keep crying! I have got to find a husband and beat Phainon in this race to the crown. At least grandmother won't let me marry someone that's not good enough for me.

Wish me luck Diary. Maybe I can manifest another dream boy to show up in my life!

XOXO,

Your Future Queen 

You closed your diary and went to bed, still dreaming of those blue eyes and charming smile.

–

If there was a humiliation ritual, then scrolling through a slideshow of eligible men like it was some royal Tinder. Even worse with your grandmother, her assistant and her bodyguard there, judging alongside you. 

Baron Aventurine was the first name up, but he was passed for being a compulsive gambler.

The second man that came up on your screen had you sitting up and paying attention.

"Yes, yes! I absolutely accept," you stated with enthusiasm, enraptured with the face of Crown Prince Jing Yuan. You had heard stories and rumours, even before your royal life, of how kind he is, how he truly cared for his people. That's the kind of man you want, not some opportunists who will do whatever to get ahead.

(The white hair made you almost forget who you were looking at, but all the hidden hope you couldn't change his eye colour to blue.)

"He's not eligible because he's in line for his own crown," Aglaea brought up. You wondered about the kind of work ethic that she had, the fact she was able to make this presentation on such a short notice. You also trusted her eye– er, perception of men. There was no way she was going to sneak in any demons there.

("If he's not eligible, then why is he included in the pictures?" Kevin had thought to himself, but he got his answer when the women in the room stared at the screen like Prince Jing Yuan was the messiah. He rolled his eyes when he noticed his Queen being sucked in. He wished that she would look at him with that same look.)

"What about Argenti of Idrila? Plays the harp." Okay he's an artsy guy, you can work with that. "No title but from a good family." That's fine, royal titles didn't matter much to you when it came to choosing a partner. 

"Yeah, and he's cute–"

"His boyfriend thinks he's handsome also." Ah, thank you Kevin for bringing up that point. Onto the next boy!

The more you scrolled, the more worried you became. There was always some major flaw with the men. Too old. Too young. Apparently one was arrested too many times– How does Kevin know all of this?

"We need someone titled," a fair point your grandmother had brought up while standing. "Someone who could help you run a country without his ego getting in the way. Someone attractive, smart, but not arrogant," your grandmother made sure to emphasize. "Someone with compassion…"

"Someone like him." You point at the screen to the man you could see yourself getting married to.

On your slide deck showed the picture of Lord Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos. A prince of a fellow city-state, but someone you had heard didn't want the throne. The prince, not wanting to be king, had decided to transition into a proper democracy. You heard rumours it was because the king was in love with a healer. But rumours are rumours, and let it be the public who use a woman as the scapegoat for any decision they don't agree with.

"Yes! Someone like him!" Your grandmother in her excitement left the room, with Aglaea following right behind her. You're sure that they were going to go making phone calls and arrangements for the two of you to meet.

"Are you sure this is the man you want to spend your life with?" Kevin kneeled next to you, looking into your eyes. "Marriage is not a light decision, and even with your hastened timeline, I do not wish for you to make a decision you may regret."

You stare back at the screen, and at the very least, Lord Mydeimos was a handsome man. Neither have you heard anything bad about him. He would be able to live the royal life without any of the responsibilities that come with being King. If you don't fall in love, then at least you can see yourself being friends with him, and don't all the best love stories start off as friendships?

"Yes, Kevin, I'm sure that he'll be the one." You sounded resolute in your decision.

You hope that tonight, you can dream of blonde hair and crimson eyes.

(You didn't much to your dismay.)

–

June 18, 20XX

Dear Diary,

I went on my first date with Mydei. (He insisted that I call him Mydei instead of Mydeimos, said it was too formal or whatever.) And it was pretty fun! We got to learn a lot about each other and he seems like a good man. Turns out, he was an Olympic wrestler, which I can't lie is pretty hot. He seems pretty okay with me taking over the crown, all he asks is that he gets a minimum 3 weeks notice before he has to dress up for an event for mental preparation. Like fair, I need that too sometimes.

Side note, I know Castrum Kremnos has their own traditions, but wow, Mydei really likes taking off his shirt. Yay for eye candy though, hehehe. Maybe he can strip any time I make an unpopular decision to take the heat away. We're perfect for each other!

Please let me live in delusion, I'm trying to be as happy about this as I can.

Also, does the media have to follow us everywhere? Like I know it's their job to report everything on the royal family, but follow us on the beach? Really? I feel like they're following us more then Phainon is.

Speaking of… the bastard, I've seen him wandering the halls, and every time he looks at me he has this like?? Weird face?? Like he's not smug or anything. Melancholic? Maybe even a little pissed? Of course he is! I'm about to take my rightful place on that throne! Suck on that Phainon.

Anywho, I got to go. Got another date with Mydei. Hopefully he proposes so I can shove that ring down Phainon's throat! (I really need to stop thinking and talking about him.)

XOXO,

Okhema's Future Queen (We're back on track people!!)

–

At least you knew that when you get married to Mydei, you would never be bored when conversing with him. Between the different worlds the two of you grew up in and differing personalities and opinions, you left every conversation having learned something new. Sure he was a little too agreeable sometimes, you hoped he wasn't trying to placate you, but even he pushed back when he thought you were wrong. It was good, amicable even.

(Unfortunately, amicable didn't overrule the banter you had with– Oh my God, could your brain shut up about him!)

"So that is how I got out of my lessons by tricking my governess into thinking I was drinking blood–"

"Mydei?"

"Yes?" "Could you try speaking without moving your lips? The um… the readers have binoculars," you sheepishly say, looking over your shoulder to the media. You wonder what scandalous headlines they were coming up with right now. 'Current Prince and Future King of Okhema was actually a brutal killer.' As if people needed more reason to think Kremnoans were monstrous brutes.

Mydei scoffed when he saw the cameras flash at the two of you, and he muttered something under his breath about never getting a moment of privacy. He took a breath and continued.

"I have something for you." Mydei put his hand into his pockets and pulled out a sheathed dagger. It was gorgeous, with a black hilt and red details. The blade was polished to perfection, you could see your own reflection in it. He placed it into your palm and wrapped your fingers around it.

"Oh my, this is stunning, thank you Mydei!" You continue to admire the blade, until the light catches a gemstone and the ribbon that was attached around it. Oh, that ribbon wasn't just for the bow, was it?

"Is this…" Your words trailed off as you removed the ring from the ribbon. Castrum Kremnos did value its warriors so of course they would propose with a knife and not a ring box.

Mydei took the ring – one bearing the royal crest of Castrum Kremnos –  and knelt in front of you, holding your hand in his. You heard the sounds of flashing cameras increase in both volume and sound, but you couldn't look away from your fate being handed to you on a silver platter.

"This past week have made me realize that you would be an incredible partner and it would be an honour to stand by your side." Mydei cleared his throat and shook away any nerves before he asked the damning question. "I promise to be the best king I could be by your side, so will you, Right Heir to Okhema's throne, grant me the honour of marrying you?"

You expected fireworks. You expected tears. You expected your heart to race so quickly, you collapsed on the ground, overfilled with love. But there was none of that. This wasn't apathy or numbness, that would imply you didn't care, which you very much did. It was something sadder, quiet, a kind of feeling that you would spend your nights awake denying.

It was resignation. Accepting that you wouldn't have the fairytale that you always wanted. That you would marry someone who could become your best friend but nothing more. 

"Yes! Absolutely, I will marry you!" you say, mustering up every little bit of enthusiasm you could muster. Your voice sounded foreign and you didn't know how long you could force yourself to smile. But this was for your country. It was all for Okhema.

The crowds cheered and the preparations began. You stood waving in front of your subjects who you adore. The love in your heart was all for them, and not for the man you have signed yourself to for the rest of your life. It could be worse, you continue to tell yourself. If only repeated thoughts could make the heart see how this was a good decision for everyone.

(In the distance, Phainon stood watching you. He justified keeping tabs on you, making sure that you didn't find a husband within your deadline. He was pleasantly surprised when Mydeimos managed to break through your walls and vice versa, and now look at you! You found your little husband!)

(Phainon was mad, and it was definitely because he was losing the race to the crown. And not because he was going to lose you as well.)

–

If you knew that wedding preparation would be this hard, then maybe you would have petitioned harder for Parliament to drop that stupid rule.

You sat at the base of the stairs in the ball room, the one where you had your 21st birthday just a couple of weeks ago. In this whirlwind of chaos that somehow Aglaea managed, you wanted a moment to breathe and think. About the golden shackle that you put on. You stare at the ring and sigh, contemplating your life choices.

You repeated the mantra that had kept you going through this farce engagement. This is for your people. This is for your grandmother. This is for your grandfather. You were so lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear the whistling coming

"Are you having second thoughts?" Phainon's infuriating voice spoke up from the void. Great, this is exactly what you needed right now.

"No!" you exclaimed, your response immediate and leaving no room for doubt. To the best of your ability, but he of all people cannot know that. "Actually on the contrary, I was just admiring my ring." You borderline shove the ring in his face, showing the item that spelled his defeat.

Phainon's brows furrowed, clearly impressed with the quality of the ring. Yet, there was a brief flicker of something that made his eye flash gold. This had to all be part of his plan, keeping you on your toes and unsure of his next move. It was naive of you to assume that just because you were engaged that he would stop in his pursuit of your crown.

"You know, he really is sooo romantic," you emphasize, turning away to climb higher on the staircase. You feel a strange warmth crawling up your back, and your turn to confront Phainon.

Phainon didn't stop when you did, making you walk backwards to stop yourself from bumping into him. When your back hit the guardrail, he leaned in closer, resting his hand beside your hip. The faint smell of fragrant citrus and firewood went straight to your head. But amidst all of that, the smell of wheat cuts through everything. He smelled of a warm summer day on your grandfather's ranch. Of nostalgia and yearning.

(There was also a faint smell of ash that clung onto him. Nothing truly escapes a flame's wrath.)

You dared to look into his eyes, and came to a realization. His eyes weren't as baby blue as you thought it was, tinged much darker than what you expected. With flecks of gold sprinkled throughout, it was hard to look away from the trance you were in. You wondered how many secrets he held behind them, what pain he had endured over the years. There's a reason that he ended up with Lygus and not his parents. You wondered if he would be different if they were still around.

But you didn't have the luxury of going down that spiral.

"Well, if you must excuse me, I really must go see to some wedding details." You broke away from his gaze, and ran down the stairs before you decided to drown in them again. 

Phainon doesn't give up though, his eyes following you as you walk up the parallel set of stairs. He was in perfect lockstep with you, going up when you did and down when you did. You wished lobotomies were still legal so that you could see what is going on in his brain.

"I'm sorry, is there something you want to say to me?" you asked, annoyed with the situation.

"No, no." Curse him and his smooth voice. "You are the one who stomped on me with your big feet."

"Big feet?" you scoffed, ducking when you heard a maid's voice. When the coast was all clear, you stood up, tall and unshakable, and continued. "Well, you know you danced with my big feet." 

"Fine," he relents, "I did dance with you. Call the Council in Dawncloud, convene the war-crimes tribunal." It was a tempting offer, wanting to create as much distance between you and the devil.

The next thing that Phainon said sent a dagger down  your throat.

"Princess, I would remind you that we only danced for about a minute."

Was that it was to him? Dance #2343 that night, or even ever. You felt something– fucking sparks were flying and all he relegated you to was a dance? You don't think you're in love with him, but this feeling might as well be the closest you ever got to it. In all your efforts to romanticize and demonize him,you forgot that there should always be two dancers in romance. Well, could it be considered romance when one of the dancers was content with watching you make a fool of yourself from the sidelines.

You were silent for a moment, but bounced right back. You were not going to let a man of all things ruin your mood.

"Fine, it was a minute," your voice was colder than what you intended, but you rolled with it. "But it was also a lie, because you didn't tell me who you were and that you were trying to steal my crown." You hoped that he realized that he was the cause of your barely concealed anger.

"Please pardon me, I had a momentary lapse of good manners," Phainon started with own annoyed tone, his eyes flickering gold again. "You see, usually, when I ask a woman to dance, I always show her my family tree."

"Well look at the one time you didn't and the mess that you made!"

The maids' voices carried into the ballroom and you wanted to continue this conversation with Phainon. So you did the smartest thing you could. You dragged Phainon into a closet, since that is the best place for a single man and an engaged woman to talk. All alone.

You turn the lights on in the closet, just to have Phainon close them again. Ugh! It was like he was specifically designed to make you infatuated with him!

"I'm onto you, oh boy am I onto what you are trying to do." You step towards him with an accusatory finger and poked his chest– oh wow, it was quite solid, for lack of a better term. Enough!. You were no coward and if he wants to seduce you, then you will do the same back to him and break his heart.

"And what am I trying to do?" Phainon asks as he raises an eyebrow.

"I think we both know exactly what it is–" you were cut off before you could repeat his master plan by a maid swinging the door open. The two of you jumped ten feet in the air and five feet back, trying to dispel whatever tension was building in the air. To which there was none. Because he doesn't love you, remember?

You both leave the closet with your dignity on track and going your separate ways. There were more important things to worry about, such as Mydei and the wedding and your eventual coronation.

But your mind was a traitorous thing, and a single thought had undone most of the progress you made about getting over Phainon.

That was the most fun you've had with another person since the engagement started.

–

June 28, 20XX

Dear Diary,

Note to self, don't hide your royal identity from your future  grand daughter. I think it would be kind of mean to condense almost 18 years of royal training into a couple of weeks and shove it down her throat. I think I'm getting the hang of it! I've been calling Mydei more and his mother has been giving me great advice on how to succeed. I can't believe I get the Queen Gorgo as a mother-in-law! With that plus a lot of wedding prep, the castle has been so alive! It's almost suffocating.

On the bright side, some of the Okheman traditions are pretty fun! What do you mean I get to shoot a flaming arrow on my coronation day?? As long as I don't decapitate anyone…

Speaking of suffocation, I feel like Phainon has been acting… nicer to me recently?? I can tell that he's lessened the heat over the whole 'stealing the crown' thing which I can appreciate! Nice to know that a man can take a loss.

I just can't help to change my opinion of him after the horse-riding incident…

–

You tried not to cry so as to not ruin your makeup, but it was hard to hold back your tears over how disastrous today had been. 

Your grandmother's plan to have you have a fake leg was foolproof if it was supposed to be executed by anyone else, but of course, you were too incompetent to do just that. Now all of Okhema is laughing at you and your inability to ride a horse. If you can't do that, then how the hell are you supposed to be Queen.

Wait, pause. Since when did riding a horse give any indication as to how you will be as a ruler? Your mind is panicking and spiraling and as your sobs get louder, you try to do the breathing exercises that your counselors have taught you.

In… 1… 2… 3… 4… 5… Out… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Your heart had calmed and your rational mind returned but that still didn't alleviate the embarrassment that you felt. Did it have to be in front of all of Okhema?

A moment went by before your heard footsteps. Maybe it was Mydei, or Kevin or your grandmother looking for you.

"You shouldn't hide. It only makes them gossip more."

Great the voice of the last man you wanted to see you like this. At least he was kind enough to return your hat.

"Fuck off, Phainon," you sneer at him, turning your head and choking on your sobs. "Get the fuck out of here before I raise holy hell on your ass."

"It's nice to know that your urban upbringing hadn't left you entirely." The words were mocking but the way he said it was so soft you almost believed him. But in your mind, those were still fighting words, so you stood up to confront him.

You didn't have the chance to say anything before Phainon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. A careful hand caressed the base of your neck, where most of your tension was being held. He laid a gentle kiss on your hairline, and you felt almost all of the tension melt away from you.

"You are doing great, princess. One event that didn't go your way will not change that." It was strange to hear comforting words from him, and maybe this was again a part of his manipulation, but you were too tired and stressed and apathetic to care.

Before you thanked him, Kevin cleared his throat and let you know that your grandmother was here. You left, not before sparing one last look to Phainon.

Thank you, you mouthed.

Anytime, he said back.

–

Is it possible that maybe Phainon is not as bad as I thought he was. Maybe I wasn't so dumb to fall for him in the first place… Shit, I still have feelings for him. No matter, I made my decision and I have to stand by it.

Anywho, I have an opera event that I have to get ready for. Hopefully it goes better for me! Pretty, pretty please!!!

XOXO,

Your Princess 

–

If there was something that was strange about becoming a princess, it was getting to experience the heights of culture for free. Back home, tickets to the opera would have cost you an arm, a leg and a few shifts at work. You thought it was something you wouldn't appreciate until you were swimming in invitations.

The venue was gorgeous and you applaud Aglaea for putting all of this together. A logistical nightmare that somehow she navigated to perfection. As much as you admire your grandmother, you also wish to be like her planner too when you grow up. It would be you executing large scale events soon anyways.

With the final applause and you giving the award to the opera singer, Helektra, the people got up to get food and converse with people. You were going to grab Mydei and run over to the snack table, but then you saw some familiar royals in the crowd. You approached all of them from a place of care and genuine interest in their lives. You may still be a princess but you still wanted to make sure that everyone was having a great time. 

It hurt you when many of the attendants were shocked to hear that you remembered them and their life stories. You made a note to make it clear to your constituents that every one of them will matter to you, and that you would not forget their problems.

"Oh princess," you heard one of your peers call out to you. "Did you see who's here?"

"No," you said, your mind combing through the guest list. You were sure that everyone who had RSVP'd had shown up except…

"The king wannabe with Lady Cyrene." You looked up to see Phainon walking hand-in-hand with a pink-haired woman. Your eye twitched in jealousy– NOPE! Banish that thought from your head right now, you were absolutely not jealous at all!

"Is that his girlfriend?" You made sure to phrase your question in as inquisitive as possible. You did not want to let anyone outside of your immediate circle know about your feelings for him.

"Oh Phainon doesn't do girlfriends, he does dates. But attractive ones." That last comment was entirely unnecessary, but it was good to know.

("Ow! Cyrene, what are you doing!" Phainon rubbed his forehead. Leave it to his best friend to abuse him when she wanted to teach him a lesson.)

("You are so clearly in love with this girl and you're going to let some stupid crown get in between you," Cyrene groaned, shaking Phainon by the shoulders, hoping to get her point across. "Get it together! Luckily for you, I have a genius plan to nudge the two of you along the way," she laughed maniacally. He chose to ignore the threat against his uncle she muttered under her breath.)

"Come on Mydei! Let's go on a walk this way." Mydei didn't even get the chance to respond before you dragged him toward Phainon and Cyrene.

You and Mydei have gotten more comfortable, now that your eventual marriage is becoming more real. As you walked down the path, he teased you about your choice of outfits and how it wasn't combat suitable. You joked that at the very least, you don't walk around half-naked for the world to see.

"There is no such word for modesty in the Kremnoan language," he scoffed, citing how as a war-faring nation, all combatants must be prepared to fight at a moment's notice.

"I'm starting to think there aren't any words in the Kremnoan language." Your banter made you forget why you chose this path until you bumped into Phainon and his lady friend.

With awkward hellos and the silence that fell over it, Phainon took the liberty to speak up.

"Cyrene and I were discussing her latest achievement," he started. "She had just received the Rhode'\s Scholarship," he said as he beamed with pride. Oooh, she won a scholarship, how amazing. 

"Oh, enough about me, I want to speak to the princess!" Cyrene leaped and held your hands, looking into her eyes. What is with everyone is Aedes Elysiae having the most stunning eyes ever? "I heard that you were able to create a sustainable mutual aid network for your community?" 

It was one of your passion projects back in school, the one that would make good writing material for Law School. You credit the generosity of your neighbours as one of the ways your mother was able to manage your poverty. It was amazing how trading a cup of sugar for some milk powder was enough to keep you alive. So when you got to university and had the resources, you decided to try to create a more formalized network. You didn't want any other children to have to sacrifice school trips and bake sales so that their parents could afford groceries and rent.

You didn't realize that there was someone who cared for your achievements back then, thinking that everyone only cared for you once you were a confirmed royal.

"Yeah, I did." Your uneasy smile gave way to a more genuine one, as Cyrene continued to bombard you with question after question. You couldn't lie, it was wonderful to talk about something that isn't marriage or balls, something that actually mattered.

(Phainon was about to find out that yes, there were deeper pits of love to fall into when it came to you. How were you such an angel to everyone you meet while he had been nothing but vile to you?)

"Ah, I didn't realize I was marrying such an incredible woman," Mydei praised as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. Your face turned bashful, not used to such praise from your fiancee. 

"Oh please, you are just as incredible," you laughed, remembering the stories that Mydei would tell you about the children whom he helped to train. "Mydei was able to change Kremnos's rules to be less harsh when it came to training children.  A remarkable feat if I do say so myself." You had thought this was an innocent exchange of achievements, a means to be supportive of everyone and their endeavors.

But for some reason, that lit a competitive fire in Phainon.

"Well, I was able to restructure Okhema's irrigation systems to allow for more food to be grown last year," he stated with a smug smile. Cyrene in her defence wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Ohhh, you see what was going on here. This was another trick! A plan for you to see why Phainon was a better match then Mydei.

"Mydei had won the Kremnoan tournament when he was just 15!" you countered.

"I helped diplomatic relations between Carmitis and Aidonia!"

"I'm pretty sure Mydei has a bigger di–"

"Alright, that is enough, princess," Mydei interrupted to calm you down, grabbing you by the shoulders and pulling you away from Phainon. "While I appreciate you defending my honour, why don't Lady Cyrene and I go grab some drinks for our party." He didn't wait for any objections from Cyrene, grabbing her hand and dragging her away. You even heard something along the lines of a trust me between the two of them. Just what was their motive here?

Another beat of awkward silence filled the air, and whenever either of you tried to break, somehow more tension entered the room.

"You two make such a lovely couple," Phainon smiled.

"We do," you thanked him, not prepared for what he would say next.

"It's a shame you're not attracted to him."

"I know, it–" you paused for a moment to take in what you just said. You tried to get a rebuttal out, but amidst your stuttering, Phainon smirked and walked away. "Get back here!" you yelled and followed right after him.

You ended up away from the party, inside of the hedge maze. If there was one good thing about this location was that it would provide sufficient privacy from the crowds.

"You can't just say something like that and walk away." You stomped right after him, your heels leaving marks on the ground in the wake of your anger. "I will have you know that I am very attracted to Mydei." Which technically wasn't a lie, he is so damn fine, and you would just have to hope that would be enough for you to trick yourself to love him.

"Wow, obviously." Phainon rolled his eyes and continued his way forward.

"I am. He… We are perfect for each other!" Every moment that Phainon spent looking right through your lies made your rage grow. "He understands me–"

"Understand you? Wow, what passion," Phainon said sarcastically. Why couldn't he just accept the words that you were saying and stop looking for whatever deeper meaning that would benefit him in the future. "But I didn't hear you mention love."

"You're just jealous because I found a husband, am going to get my crown and live a happy life!" You did not say that in your happy voice.

The two of you stood in front of the fountain, a stalemate reached in your hatred.

You punched him in his shoulder with enough force to have Phainon stumbling backwards. "I loath you," you sneered at him.

Phainon got over his shock, took your fan and gently smacked your shoulder with it, with you letting out a scandalised gasp. "I loathed you," he replied with equal abhorrence.

You stared into his eyes, and then his lips. Wow, they looked pretty soft, you wish you could–

Phainon grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. It was jarring at first, but slowly you melted into his arms. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms were around your waist. Those stubborn and familiar sparks lit up in your heart, which was pounding fiercely. You could almost imagine in another place or in another time, this could be a romantic kiss shared between lovers, and not one mired in infidelity.

Sometimes, you wished you weren't Okhema's next princess, and that you were just a girl. This was one of those moments. How the crown complicates the most simple matters of love. Or perhaps it is love that complicates the matters of the crown.

But reality snuck in quicker than you wanted it to, and you pushed Phainon away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" you shrieked, frantically going around to make sure no one had seen you in your moment of weakness. "You can't just go around kissing people, particularly if they are engaged!"

"Well you enjoyed it–"

"Well that's not the fucking point, is it!" You started to walk around the fountain to try and get some distance between you and Phainon. But he never made things easy for you, following you with every step you took.

"You're just trying to make me like you so that I won't want to marry Mydei and then you can have the crown!" That sleazy bastard! Of course he would stoop so low in order to get what he wanted. Why did you think he was going to be different? Because he said some nice words to you and hugged you when you were humiliated?

"Maybe I am, but maybe I'm kissing you because I like you." With a smile like his, you didn't know if he was some young Casanova, or a conman selling glass diamonds. Either way, you were not interested in his answer. He tried to hold on to you in order to pull in for another kiss.

In your thrashing and cursing of his existence, you both fell into the fountain, completely drenched in water.

You didn't wait for his sad excuse of an apology, just gathering yourself to get up and leave this mistake behind.

"Princess, I'm sorry! Please let me help–"

"I have a great idea." Your voice was cold, devoid of any love you deluded yourself thinking you had for him. "Why don't I hold you underwater and make sure that no one finds your damn body?" You didn't wait to see his reaction, walking back to the palace where you would eventually have to greet your grandmother.

When you sheepishly stood in front of your grandmother, she stepped closer and leaned towards you.

"Do I want to know?" she hissed, replacing the embers of your embarrassment with fear. 

"I don't think so." You didn't bother to offer any other explanation. You did hear the last bit of Mydei's conversation with your grandmother though.

"She's going to be a handful." 

"You will never be bored, Mydeimos."

–

June 29, 20XX

Dear Diary,

I had seen the princess journal in her book, and while I am a gentleman who wouldn't trespass on a lady's private writings, I can imagine that she uses it to express her emotions about her current life affairs. I believe that it would benefit me to do the same.

For starters, I feel terrible with how the Opera ended for her. Truly, I did not mean to get her soaked and despite what she claims, about him going for her crown, that kiss was not a part of the plan. It was a compulsion, a divine voice telling me that if I didn't kiss her in that moment, I would have perished from a broken heart. It was just my luck that the princess reciprocated, even if she thought it was under false pretences. 

Despite my greatest efforts, I have managed to fall in love with the Crown Princess of Okhema. It only took Cyrene beating me with a shoe for me to realize. But who could blame me? Not only is she beautiful, an angel blessing our presence, but her heart somehow exceeds her physical beauty. The way she interacted with the orphans made my heart full, despite Uncle Lygus claiming it was some lowly stunt. I don't think she's capable of that malice, not in the way I am.

Remind me to find her and congratulate her on getting the plan for the children centre to go through. I know that I would have appreciated it along with Cyrene when we were children.

Perhaps, she truly is best for Okhema's throne. The people don't deserve a boy who's only good at following the whims and follies of his uncle, even if it does feel like betrayal to father.

Oh well, I suppose time will tell. The wedding will be in a couple of days and I will have to say goodbye to the only woman who could make me believe that true love exists.

…This is stupid, this did nothing but make me feel worse about myself.

Sincerely,

The Princess's Fiancee

Phainon of Aedes Elysiae

–

"What are you saying?" Lygus spoke up, enjoying the warmth of his foot bath.

"She's smart. She cares about Okhema," Phainon rambled on about every good quality the princess had. How his uncle could disregard them is beyond him. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she ran the country."

"Are you mad?" Lygus bellowed, watching all of his plans go to waste.

"She believes in Okhema so much that she is convinced to marry someone she knows she can never love!" Phainon cries, pleading with his uncle to see reason. The mention of the approaching wedding tugged on his heartstring, a yearning that he could feel in his bones.

"After all the effort I put in to place you on the throne, you want us to end up with nothing?!" Lygus was furious with every word that came out of Phainon's mouth. Good, a vile creature like him didn't deserve to sully the crown, even if he isn't the one wearing it.

"We wouldn't have nothing," he snarled. Phainon remembered how after the razing of his village, he and Cyrene were begging on the streets for food. It was only his luck that he happened to be related to the royal family, even if wasn't aware of his heritage. Perhaps in that way, he and the princess were more alike then he would have wanted to admit it. "Okhema would be in good hands, and she would be happy."

If he could not fight for her hand, then at least he could ensure her happiness.

"Ahh." A look of realization fell over Lygus's face. "You fell in love with her."

Yes he had, and there was no denying it now. He would have screamed it from the rooftops if it meant that maybe she would reconsider her engagement.

Phainon tried to plead his case, that there was a way for everyone to be happy, before Lygus raised a hand to silence him.

"What do you think would happen?" Lygus spoke with a robotic voice, devoid of emotion. "That she will leave Mydeimos and marry you?" When he said it like that, it was an outlandish wish, but what is love if not consistently hoping for the impossible?

"I put in the effort to make you a king, not marry a queen," Lygus said sternly, no room for arguments, no matter how valid they were. There was never any room for arguing with Lygus when he got like this.

"Don't worry, Uncle." Phainon held Lygus's hand to comfort him. It was colder than the Princesses' hand. "That would never happen. She will never care for me like that." It was all your doing that made her think that I was some irredeemable monster. She was right, I am. I don't deserve to bask in her warmth, but Okhema does.

"I just ask you to stop trying to sabotage her." It was a simple ask, one that Phainon wasn't sure his uncle was capable of, but would try to stop if it came to that.

Through a pained voice and after pondering for a while, Lygus gave his answer.

"All right, If that is what you really want. Go to her, congratulate her. Tell her that we surrender."

With that confirmation, Phainon rushed to find the princess to tell her the good news, not knowing that this wasn't the end of Lygus's scheming.

–

You would think that after all of these archery practices, you would finally learn how to shoot an arrow. But no, you're still almost accidentally decapitating people and already burned poor Mydei. He insisted that he was fine, but with the maids urged him to head back to the castle, you were sure that he would need to cover up that arm for the next couple of days. You should probably get make up for him to cover up the scar in case he decides to go shirtless.

But that familiar whistle made you wish you kept Mydei by your side a little while longer.

"Would you like some help?" Phainon pointed to the bow in your hand and the arrows laying pathetically across the courtyard. 

You nod, picking up one of the arrows from the floor. You get in position, with the boy pointing towards the target and your elbows above your ear. All of your muscles were struggling to maintain this form, stiff as a board and bracing for another spectacular miss.

Phainon giggled with your form, covering his mouth to spare you from the embarrassment. It was fine though, if you get to listen to that heavenly laugh for you would never know when the next time you would be blessed with it. 

He didn't ask for permission and you never gave it verbally, letting him touch and move you in order to get in the right position. A hand to bring your elbow down. Pushing the taut bowstring to your lips. Keeping a presence on your waist to hold you steady. Your body went hot and you wished that his touches weren't so damn respectable. That he would take you in the middle of the field.

"Breathe in," he whispered in your ear, the air tickling you.

You do as he says, taking a breath in.

"And release."

You let go of the arrow. Bullseye.

You jumped and cheered, finally happy that you got one arrow to land. In your excitedment, you didn't realize that you threw your hands around his neck and pulled him into a hug. Phainon wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you steady, the same position you were in for that first kiss.

"How did that feel?" he asked, lips barely touching yours. It would have been so easy to lean into him and kiss him like you were dreaming of since the Opera.

"Wonderful." You smiled, looking into his dark blue eyes. "Absolutely wonderful."

This time, Phainon was the one who pulled away.

"I have to go," he informed you, chuckling a little but at your puzzled face. "I really only came back to pack my things."

"You're leaving?" You didn't even bother to hide your disappointment. There was no one around for you to act in front of and you didn't have the energy to put a front in front of Phainon.

"I think it's time that I bowed out gracefully." Phainon smiled, like he was happy to let go of his uncle's relentless pursuit of the throne. "You will make a wonderful queen."

"I see, so this is goodbye?" you asked with the hope that maybe he would find a way to stay. But all Phainon did was nod and walk away, ready to be out of your life forever. You look up to the sky, hoping that gravity would help you to not let your tears fall.

It didn't, and the last hope for true love was officially gone.

–

Phainon couldn't accept that the last time he would see her, he wouldn't even get to kiss her, let alone dance with her. So with Cyrene's advice (she did love a good love story), he rode over the castle in the middle of the night. Once he figured out which window was yours, he started to throw pebbles over at you.

This almost felt like a humiliation ritual, an act of desperation on display for the masses to make fun of him. Were the people enjoying his misery? Did they find solace that even he was unsuccessful with love. (Is that not all he was good for? To suffer and perform for the royal court that you were a part of?)

Phainon heard shuffling from your room, and he smiled when he saw your face through the window.

"Phainon," you whispered, with that breath-taking smile that had his heart soaring. You were absolutely stunning in the moonlight, eyes sparkling like the millions of stars shining above him, witnesses to your eternal love. "What are you doing, Phainon?" you asked concerned, head turning left and right to make sure that there were no guards or maids to sabotage this moment.

Phainon cleared his throat and bowed his head. "Mnestia, Mnestia, with hair so fine. Come out your window and climb down a vine," he sang, smiling when your face turned away and fingers were playing with your hair. He was concerned when you eyed the tree next to your window, knowing that you weren't exactly the pinnacle of grace.

"The feat that you ask, dear sir, isn't easy, and I won't respond to that line for it's far too cheesy," you tease back, resting your elbows on your window sill. Phainon stepped back and clutched his heart, like your words were a stray arrow that went through his chest. But still, despite his corniness, that didn't stop you from climbing down to meet him.

You threw down your cloak, to which Phainon caught with ease. He held his arms out when you crawled out of your window, ready to catch you in case you fell. Fortunately he was prepared for when you did after you almost crashed into a window like an action hero. That would have been the wrong genre of film. 

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you again?" you apologized, checking for any scratches or bruises you left behind. Phainon swore that he skin burned red wherever your hands lingered. He wished he would keep your touch to himself forever.

"No, I… I'm used to this," Phainon groaned, ignoring the sore back he knew he was going to wake up the next morning. Once the two of you were ready to get up, Phainon held you close and dragged you to the horses that he had stashed away from this moment.

Phainon had found this gorgeous part of the woods, one that was secluded away from prying eyes. Hence why he brought the horses for a romantic stroll to his secret picnic site. Imagine, if he got to marry you, let alone be with you, he would be able to take you to all of his hidden spots of Okhema. Phainon really needed to banish these thoughts from his head. He had to accept that this was this last night in paradise, for another man would be able to bask in your light.

Phainon helped you off your horse, walking you to the blankets and food that he laid out for you. The two of you sat down, so close your bodies could be mistaken as one, so far that his fingers were twitching to hold you.

"Tell me your greatest fire," Phainon whispered, leaning in to feel your breath on his hips.

"Why don't you tell me a secret?" you asked, playing with his hand, tracing the lines of his palm with your finger. 

"Isn't that the same?"

"Almost," you clarified. "Anyone can see your desires, but no one knows what's in your heart."

You. You were in his heart, taking up the space that was left behind when Aedes Elysiae burned down. You became the home he so desperately wished for, warmth that he was denied when he started to live with Lygus.

"Tell me something." Phainon was desperate to hear something from your heart.

"Um… When I was a kid, I wanted to be a lawyer," you started. Phainon nodded to continue, wanting to hear more about your past so that he could recite it from memory in his sleep. "I wanted to help people to get representation, you know, do all that pro-bono shit." You look away like you confessed some terrible secret and not a noble desire.

"I almost fought the Okheman guards when Uncle Lygus brought me here for the first time…" Phainon trailed off, thinking back to when he was an angry teen. "I thought that Okhema was to blame for what happened, for not sending soldiers over to defend us," he gulped, swallowing down the bile and blood that rose from his throat. "It was only when I got here that I realized that they weren't even aware of what happened. Until there was nothing left."

"Oh, Phainon…" you cooed, placing a hand on his cheek, wiping away any tears that fell from his eyes. "I'm so sorry that you had to go through any of that." You pulled him closer to your chest, letting him rest his head over your heartbeat.

"It's alright, princess," he smiled, touched by your concern. The memories that he continuously suffers from would cycle through his head forever. But instead of the burning feeling when the fire licked his skin, he would now think about the heat you caused with just a simple stare.

You continued to discuss different childhood anecdotes, from the tragic to the bizarre. Phainon wished that he wasn't beholden to his uncle's plan from the start, maybe he would have learned about the beautiful woman you were underneath your standoffish attitude. He could have tried to earn your heart honestly and would have been by your side, not as ruling king but as your partner. An equal, one that didn't over power the other. 

But because of his uncle's greed and his obedience, he was going to lose you forever.

"I haven't danced with you since your birthday," Phainon brought up. 

"That's not a secret, that's a fact."

"The secret is that…" Phainon pulled you up to your feet and wrapped his arms around you. "I still want to."

It was nice to know that this relationship would end the same way it began, with a dance between two people who were always destined to meet. You held each other close, heads hiding in the crook of each other's neck. Swaying in the wind, the birds sang for the two of you. It even looked like the moon got brighter, and most luckily, you didn't step on his foot again.

Ah, what bliss. Phainon was going to hold onto this moment and tell his future children of his great love that got away. He kissed, slow and steady, hoping for this moment to be seared into your mind the way it was with him.

With a yawn, Phainon pulled you back to the blanket, and he played with your hair to lull you to sleep. When he felt your breathing even out, he closed his own eyes and let sleep take him over. His second last thought being that maybe he should have brought you back to the castle. His actual last thought was how this was the best night ever,

If only the morning was that perfect.

Camera flashing. You accused him of setting you up and ran away, sobbing incessantly. Phainon couldn't even remember what you said, just that every word left his flesh scorched. His home had burned away once again and now Okhema would know about your infidelity, and that may be enough for you to lose your crown. In the end, Uncle Lygus got exactly what he wanted.

Phainon punched the trees, not stopping until his knuckles were bleeding. Until he could forget the sound of you crying, especially since this time, he was the cause of it.

–

July 1, 20XX

Dear Diary,

I fucked up. I fucked up big time. There were goddamn cameras and the caught me and Phainon. And now everyone knows that I was in love with my rival this whole time. I let them all down.

I don't want to even talk about the scumbag. I really thought that he loved me, but what was I expecting? And I fell for it like a fucking, goddamn fool.

I spoke to Mydei and he seems to be okay with it. Turned out he was only marrying me out of obligations, so he didn't get his feelings hurt. But I can't imagine it felt good. At least the wedding is still on and I get to keep my crown. All for the kingdom, or whatever bullshit I convinced myself.

I don't even have the energy to keep writing.

You threw your diary across the room and fell to your knees sobbing. Kevin and your grandmother were there to hold you and wipe your tears, telling you that everything would be okay. You tried your hardest to believe them, but you cried harder until you passed out.

–

Phainon didn't know what broke his heart more. Was it when you ran away cursing his existence and crying because of his carelessness? Or was it when he saw you kiss Mydeimos, confirming that the wedding was going to happen.

Some selfish part of him had hoped that even if he didn't get to have you, then no one would. But then that would have met no crown for you, and that crown mattered to you over everything. 

Phainon walked back from where he came from, committed to never coming back in your life again. Committed to never ruin it again. He was going to do everything in his power to keep you happy, and it wasn't him or Mydeimos that made you happy. It was the title of Queen and the people of Okhema.

–

If you squint and forget the events of the last month, you could almost pretend that it was your 21st birthday again, before everything had gone to hell.

You hear your bridesmaids walk down the aisle with Mydei's groomsmen. A mix of people from your childhood, some royals you had gotten close with and distant family members. You were okay with having a large amount of bridemaids, having had a feeling that this was par for the course for being a royal.

Familiar panic started to rise in your chest, causing your heart to freefall. This all had felt so wrong, it was very wrong. You were going to meet the wrong man at the end of the aisle. You bend over, your hands on your knees as you try to breathe. But no matter how much air you took in, it didn't do anything to calm your beating heart.

You closed your eyes, imagining those final moments with Phainon. The way his arms held you together and how a kiss from him made you fall apart all over again. You smile, forgetting the betrayal for a moment, and your heart rate slowed down to a functioning rhythm.

Oh my God, you were making the biggest mistake of your life.

You crack the door open, whispering to the guard in front of it.

"Psst, Kevin?" you whispered, and your only indication that he heard you was two taps of his fingers on his hips. "I just wanted to say, before I do this I'm sorry that you're retiring." You had truly hoped that Kevin would have stayed as part of your security detail.

"Well, the heart does things for reasons that reason cannot understand." Kevin said with such confidence, like he was speaking from experience. Your heart ached that even he didn't feel secure with his romantic life.

"You're preaching to the choir," you sigh, shutting the door in front of you. But before you closed the door completely, Kevin called out your name again, proceeding to drop a final bomb on your heart.

"Then you should know that Phainon did not set you up at the lake." There was no time to process that information, for Aglaea came by to let Kevin know that they were ready to receive you. The wedding march began, but all you could think about was what was said.

Your thoughts were louder than the band and the choir, pounding in your head until it ached. You tried to smile and wave towards your guests, but the concerned look from Aglaea made you think that perhaps you weren't as convincing as you thought you were. Even if Phainon didn't set you up, that didn't change the fact that he wasn't the one you were meeting at the end of the aisle. If only his stupid uncle didn't meddle as much as he did, then maybe you would have actually looked forward towards your future husband.

The constant what if scenarios didn't help alleviate the feeling in your bones that this was still very wrong. The universe wasn't going to rewrite itself for you to be unhappy, and maybe the crown wasn't everything that you wanted.

The gasps in the audience broke you from your trance, leaving you to realize that you hadn't moved in the past few minutes. You tried to will your feet to keep going, but they turned into stone, keeping standing at the crossroads.

So if you couldn't move forward, you did the next best thing. You moved backwards, running away from your wedding to find a quiet place to properly collect your thoughts away from people or the camera.

You really didn't appreciate your grand exit being narrated like it was some football play, though.

You collapsed onto the floor the minute you were away from anyone, that familiar panic crawling up your chest again. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to think about Phainon again, but it was no use. There was no way he could help you this time.

"Oh, darling," your grandmother spoke up, kneeling next to you and pulling you into a hug. She rocked you back and forth to comfort you and it worked, for if you couldn't have Phainon's arms wrapped around you, then your grandmother was a good close second option.

"Grandmother, I'm so sorry! I just need a minute."

"Darling–"

"I can do this, I promise I can do this!"

"No." She didn't leave any room for arguing. Curse her stern voice.

"I made a choice," she said while rubbing her hand up and down your back. "Duty to my country over love. It's what I've always done, it seems. It was drummed into me my whole life. Now, I've lost the only man that I ever loved." Was she talking about Kevin? Speaking of the devil, he stood 20 feet away, on guard and making sure no one would interrupt your moment.

"I want you to make your choices as a woman. Don't make the same mistakes I made," she pleaded with a smile, eyes periodically shifting back to look at her body guard. 

But could you make that decision? Phainon being your rival aside, were you even ready to jump right into a relationship with him?

"Now, you could go back into that church and get married, or walk away." Grandmother held your hands as she said the next part. "But whatever choice you make, let it come from the heart."

You nodded, head held high and hands shaky. You knew exactly what you were going to do next.

This time when you walked down the aisle, you were steady and sure, maybe walking a little too fast. But who cares! This was your farce of a wedding and you were going to walk as fast as you wanted. Especially since they were about to realize that you weren't going to be a bride for any longer.

Mydei came up to you and offered your hand, but you raised your hand to stop him.

"Everyone deserves the chance to find true love, right?" You asked him, taking off the engagement ring he gave you and the dagger he offered, "Even us?"

Mydei stuttered for a moment, not knowing what to say except thanking you. He left the altar to join his family in the crowd. You winked at the pink-haired girl with green eyes, hoping that you would be invited to their wedding soon.

You ran over to the podium, wanting to make an announcement to your people.

"Welcome everyone," you said nervously, watching everyone fall silent at your voice. "A few moments ago, I realized that the only reason I was getting married was because of a law, and that seemed like bull– I mean, that didn't seem like a good enough reason." Great going, not only you ruined your wedding, you were going to give some old fart a heart attack if you cursed like a sailor.

"I won't be getting married today." That declaration made some people give you the stink eye, but your grandmother's nod of approval gave you confidence to continue. "My grandmother has ruled without a man by her side for quite some time, and I think she's kicking ass!" You exclaimed, not even caring if the profanity left your mouth.

"So as the granddaughter of the current Queen and later King–" 

"May the King always rest in peace."

"I ask members of parliament to think about your daughters, your nieces, and sisters, and granddaughters, ask yourselves… Would you force them to do what you're trying to make me do?" That seemed to garner some sympathy points for you. "I believe that I will be a great queen and I understand that Okhema is a land that combines the beauty of the past with all the best hope in the future. I feel in my heart and soul that I can rule this beautiful land."

"I love Okhema," you chuckled, tears forming in your eyes. "Do you think that I would be standing up here in a wedding dress if I didn't?" A laugh erupted from the crowd, making you smile.

"I stand here," you paused to take a breath. "Ready to take my place as your queen. Without a husband."

The roaring applause from the audience was cut short by an abrasive voice. Why was Lygus even invited to the wedding? And why didn't Phainon come with him?

"Every time this charming young lady opens her mouth," he said as he turned to face the crowd. "She demonstrates a contempt for the customs of Okhema." God forbid a girl wants to get rid of misogyny from her country? But you will have to listen to what this oaf would have to say. Right of the Opposition and all that.

"The law clearly states that an unmarried woman cannot be queen!" This was turning into some lecture that you couldn't wish to be over sooner. "Fortunately, there is another heir." Can't he let go of that talking point–

"No there is not."

Phainon stood at the entrance, clothes disheveled and out of breath. You thought about how far he lived from the castle, and how there were very few options for transportation given how most of them were rented for today. Did– did he run all the way here?

"I decline." Phainon looked right at you. "I refuse to be king. Ladies and gentlemen, it should be the Princess who should have the crown." Oh, how you wished you could run over and kiss him! 

"She has a vision to bring Okhema forward into the new century and if parliament was astute," he paused to glare at his uncle and the rest of the members of parliament, "they would name her queen. Besides," he smiled, eyes lighting up for a moment. "Just imagine how lovely she would look on our postage stamp." Ever the charmer, he knew exactly how you cut through your defences. At this point, he made a permanent home inside your walls.

"You would look lovely on a postage stamp!" Lygus roared, exploding with rage. He followed Phainon as he left the building. "Don't you walk away from me, sir! You have a duty to Okhema!"

Thank goodness his dumbass was gone, now you could get back to the important stuff.

In the midst of the commotion to decide who's next in line after Phainon, the prime minister came to your side, urging you to make a motion to end this rule.

"Prime Minister? I motion to abolish the marriage law as it applies to present and future queens of Okhema." You spoke with confidence but you were still uneasy inside. Afterall, there is a chance that they would deny your motion, despite everything and everyone saying that it would be the wrong decision.

With a good glare, you were able to get a second motion. And then everyone voted. And then the rule was abolished, making you the rightful queen, a man needing to be by your side be damned.

But there was one more thing that needed to be done. After all, it would be a shame for this wedding decoration to all go to waste?

You spoke into the one of the guard's mic, making sure it connected to Aglaea's.

"Just because I didn't get my fairytale ending, doesn't mean you shouldn't." You hoped she understood what you meant by that, head gesturing to Kevin when she tried to look at you. She knew exactly what she meant, when she took Kevin's arm and walked down the aisle. Eyes and arms entirely focused on each other, you smiled and cried watching them recite the vows they should have said decades ago.

While this wasn't the happily ever after that you or the people expected, it warmed your heart all the same watching your grandmother and Kevin achieve their true happiness.

Aglaea then ushered you outside and gave you your bow, for it was time to fire the customary arrow to signify the start of a new Okheman ruler. You pulled the draw string taut, thinking about how Phainon positioned you. You hoped that he was watching you, even from a distance to see how far you come.

You fired the arrow and hit the target in the dead center.

–

Why was prepping for your coronation just as hard as preparing for your wedding? Yes, you were more excited for this compared to your wedding, but there were only so many decor questions a girl could ask before her head exploded!

You slouched in your throne – yes, you were almost officially allowed to call it and do that – hoping to get a nap before the next set of maids brought in the napkins you wanted to use.

"So, what do you say, Billy?" you say to your cat, who also got their own royal pillow to sit on. "Do you think I would make a good queen?"

"Indeed you will."

You sat straight up, beckoning Phainon to come closer.

"If I may be so bold, I would like to have an audience with your HIghness?" He stood as still as a statue, not moving unless you gave him permission. When you gestured to the space in front of you, Phainon moved to stand there, his face relaxed and without any of his usual stressors.

"What would be your dilemma, young man?" you ask, your hands sitting on top of your crossed legs.

"You are, in fact," he said bluntly, kneeling in front of you.

(When you imagined Phainon on his knees, for you, this isn't exactly what you had in mind?)

"I am in love with the queen-to-be," he confessed, laying his heart right there on the floor in front of you, letting you be its judge, jury and executioner. "And I am inquiring if she loves me too?" It was cute how his face became shy when he said that, the boyish charm shining through his usual seduction.

You take a breath, not wanting to turn into a stuttering puddle of nerves. He loves me, he actually loves me. Your brain decided to latch onto that fact and never let it go.

You get up from your throne and run into his open arms, jumping to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug. How did you know and live life without the comfort of his arms? You had a feeling that you were going to need that comfort in the future as queen.

Phainon whispered your name like a prayer and leaned in to kiss you. The sparks that sent you on this original spiral. You felt your skin glow the longer you kissed for, the stardust in under your skin resonating with him. You may not know what the future may hold, but you had a feeling that at the very least, Phainon was going to be the last man you ever kissed, the last man you will ever love.

–

July 8, 20XX

Dear Diary,

Wow! I'm so sorry for neglecting you and how I treated you the last time. But so much has happened in the last week that I need to catch you up on!

First off, I'm officially Okhema's new queen and didn't even have to marry to get it! I'm so glad the old farts overturned that rule because if they didn't, I was going to give them a real bloody reason to not want me on that throne. My coronation went smoothly, devoid of the usual hijinks and disasters, thank goodness. I think I would cry if anything happened.

OH! And that orphanage project where we converted that spare house into a place for the kids to live? That's in full force! The building plans are all drawn up and now we're making sure that it's executed to perfection. I cannot wait to have the orphans move in soon!!

I also had the time to go back home and see everyone. They were all so shocked to see me, as if I would forget all about them. AS IF!! I may have Okheman blood and love the country, it will not be the only home in my heart.

Speaking of homes and orphans, me and Phainon are dating now! We're starting slowly and keeping it a secret from the public after… you know, but it's been great!! He's been so amazing and wonderful and sweet and AHHH!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S MINE!! I get my own samoyed puppy to play with everyday.

It's so strange how it seemed like my life was over a week ago, and now it couldn't be any better!! I cannot wait to see what the future will hold!!

XOXO,

Okhema's Queen and Phainon's Partner <3

© @zozo-01 est 2025 - any plagiarizing, modifying, reposting and/or feeding my work into ai is prohibited. i will stalk you and make your life hell if you try any of that shit with me <3

[lustforloveandlife]

𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲 | f.wolfhard x model!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: reader is a vs model/angel and is dating finn but it’s like semi confirmed

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦: none js imagine theyre all u

youruser: 🪽🪽🪽

liked by: finnwolfhard, adrianalima, alexcosani and 1.4M more

comments

alexcosani: lovedd sharing the runway with u diva

| youruser: sending all the love

milliebobbybrown: you looked STUNNINGGG

ynfan2: whys the whole stranger things cast here

| ynfan3: ikk maybe shes dating someone on the cast?

| finnfan1: waitt finn was there maybe its finn?

noahschnapp: my newest girl crush

| youruser: helloo im honored🥹

ynfan: shes actually a real angel

finnwolfhard: your newest angel (me)

liked by: youruser, milliebobbybrown, noahschnapp, calebmclaughlin and 1M more

comments

ynfan4: hellooo???? is that why he was liking up yns stuff?

ynfan5: one lucky guy

finnfan2: he was there?

| finnfan3: right like why would a man that isnt a bf or husband be there?

| finnfan4: well then hes obviously dating one of the angels, prob yn im ngl

calebmclaughlin: loved your walk

| finnwolfhard: thanks man

youruser: onto the next !! beyond thankful

likedby: alexcosani, anokyai, finnwolfhard, milliebobbybrown and 2.1M more

comments

ynfan6: whats a tux doing there👀

anokyai: milan isnt ready for us

milliebobbybrown: so jealous

| youruser: i will personally invite u gorgeous

finnwolfhard: my tux is looking great

finnfan: what does he mean by HIS tux????

strangerthingsfan: im starting a rumor

ynfan7: bye im so jealous did he bag that🫩🫩🫩

finnwolfhard: milan was great

youruser was tagged

liked by: youruser, milliebobbybrown, alexcosani, gatenmattarazzo and 987k more

comments

ynfan8: give me ur game card????

finnfan7: this is the closest were getting to a hard launch

ynfan10: bro somebody nerf him????? YN?????

finnfan9: i didnt know bro was like that

milliebobbybrown: 😍😍 whos that babe in the chair

finnfan10: guys nothings confirmed yet🫩🫩🫩

| ynfan15: well they dont let just anyone backstage its mainly boyfriends and husband not just “friends”

a/n: idk how to feel abt this but lmk if u want a part 2 and if u like the actor ones or this + singer au could be an option too👀👀👀 if yall rlly fw me like that

[macherieeeeee]

"you almost called me baby" | playlist | characs. | home

walker scobell × teen actor!fem reader (insta smau!!!)

blurred lines, late calls, someone laughing off camera.

i think he said “you always look like you know something i don’t.”

(maybe she does.)

chapter 1: "you don't look at your friends like that."

chapter 2: almost in focus (but never quite enough)

chapter 3: "if this isn’t something, then why does it feel like it is?"

chapter 4: red carpet rules (and how they broke them)

TBC ! 💌 (Changes are not yet finalized)

© 𝘃𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵. 𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱. 𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗮𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗼𝘄𝗻. 𝗗𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗯𝘂𝘁𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻. 𝗣𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗺 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱.

[4-eyed-pringl-3-s]

Do you ever just get into a fandom so late that the most recent post about them is like 2 years ago? Especially worse if your fav character just so unfortunately happens to NOT have a single oneshot written about them.

[leiffy]

જHEAVY IS THE CROWN ft. teru minamoto

There are days when the prince of Komome Academy allows himself a moment of respite, a quiet time for himself around the arms of his lover.

pairing(s): teru minamoto x gn! reader

content(s): SFW ; drabble ; fluff ; mild angst ; comfort ; established relationship ; teen romance ; possible ooc ; teru needs a hug

note(s): i have not caught up with the recent manga updates, so here i am, uninformed. a little something to get me out of writer's block.

A prince should master the art of duplicity. To smoothen the crease between his brows should frustration pull his face rigid. To clench his teeth taut yet draw a gentle, ever patient, smile. To guide with benign hands despite the calluses; the jitters; the crimson that drips like small, lazy rivulets. To hold his head high beneath the weight of a crown far too heavy for one so young.

And Teru Minamoto is a connoisseur of all.

"Senpai! I'm having a hard time with my arithmetic assignments."

Patient as he is, he'd offer a hand and a seat beside him. "Don't worry, perhaps I might be of help," he would say with the easy grace of someone practiced in serenity.

"Senpai! My girlfriend is upset with me—what should I do?!"

"Senpai! I want to confess to my crush. Should I go for it?"

Teru is not well-versed in the field of romance. Not really. Still, girls and boys alike flock around him like birds with eager eyes and equally eager ears—fluttering, flustered, hopeful. He tries his best. Even if all he has to offer are honeyed lies and half-assed advices from equally hollow experience.

"Big brother is so kind! I want to be like you."

Kou was ten when Teru had been thirteen.

The younger blond's eyes—a blue that mirrored his beloved older brother's—had a brilliance in them that shone so beautifully, childishly, blindingly bright. Teru's only appeared to gleam. Jaded things, slick with a sheen so false it might almost pass for hope.

It aches, sometimes, to be adored. Still, he placed a gentle hand atop the mess of a hair Kou has and spoke solemnly, "Someday."

He's a teacher. A brother. A model. An exorcist. Komome's darling prince. Heavy was the crown and Teru Minamoto wears it like it's sewn to his skull.

There are moments—sweet ones, rare ones—where he lets the crown fall and the pretense crumble beneath his feet like gravel.

It is when he's with you that he lets himself breathe a little loose, a little lighter. It is in your arms that he discovers the sweetest haven he knows. In most day when the emotions swirling in his chest like relentless tides are as heavy as the crown he dutifully wears, he finds himself constantly seeking your embrace should his schedule allows even a sliver of time.

And indulge him, you do.

How could you not? When he greets you with the gentlest smiles, whisper the sweetest words in your ears, and seals it all with an even sweeter kiss that leaves you often breathless and giggling against his lips.

How can you not, when his duties often pry him from your widowed arms?

You could never bring yourself to withhold from him the simplest joys.

Teru Minamoto deserves the world, yet it is the same one that lets him bear the weight of duty no one your age should.

Adept as he is in hiding the discomfort, the frustration, the weariness sinking deep into his bones—every now and then, he slips.

And he lets you see, a sliver of honesty worn on his sleeves.

When those moments come, you pull him aside without hesitation—wrap him up in your warmth, and shower him with the love he so quietly, desperately craves.

He’s so, so grateful to have you. No words could amount to how much love blooms inside his chest whenever you touch him.

[hodagaza]

My name is Hoda from Gaza, I am 14 years old. My childhood in Gaza has been a huge burden on me. I grew up before I even knew what childhood was! The occupation destroyed our home, killed my father and mother, and my younger siblings and I became homeless. 💔 I became the sole breadwinner for my siblings. My four siblings and I were displaced in northern Gaza from Shujaiya to the beach area. We now live in a dilapidated tent. I don't know how to bring food or milk for us because of the lack of money and high prices. I am the one who fills water for them and brings medicine, and all the responsibilities are on me alone! I have grown old from exhaustion and I don't know the taste of life. Unfortunately, we are living the worst pictures of life now. 💔 I hope that those who know the meaning of humanity in this world will feel for us and help us by donating and making my voice heard. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who supports us in these difficult circumstances. 🙏❤️

I feel that there is still hope in this world to help us. Thank you to every person who feels for us. Donate through this link of ours👇. May God bless you ❤️🇵🇸

I feel that there is still hope in this world to help us. Thank you to every person who feels for us. May God bless you ❤️🇵🇸

My name is Hoda from Gaza, I am 14 years old. My childhood in Gaza has been a huge burden on me. I grew up before I even knew what childhood

[hodagaza]

My name is Hoda from Gaza, I am 14 years old. My childhood in Gaza has been a huge burden on me. I grew up before I even knew what childhood was! The occupation destroyed our home, killed my father and mother, and my younger siblings and I became homeless. 💔 I became the sole breadwinner for my siblings. My four siblings and I were displaced in northern Gaza from Shujaiya to the beach area. We now live in a dilapidated tent. I don't know how to bring food or milk for us because of the lack of money and high prices. I am the one who fills water for them and brings medicine, and all the responsibilities are on me alone! I have grown old from exhaustion and I don't know the taste of life. Unfortunately, we are living the worst pictures of life now. 💔 I hope that those who know the meaning of humanity in this world will feel for us and help us by donating and making my voice heard. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who supports us in these difficult circumstances. 🙏❤️

I feel that there is still hope in this world to help us. Thank you to every person who feels for us. Donate through this link of ours👇. May God bless you ❤️🇵🇸

I feel that there is still hope in this world to help us. Thank you to every person who feels for us. May God bless you ❤️🇵🇸

My name is Hoda from Gaza, I am 14 years old. My childhood in Gaza has been a huge burden on me. I grew up before I even knew what childhood

[yasministration]

Sleeping beauty - platonic!marauders

summary: reader stumbles into the common room after a long night of 'sleep'. they try discovering who she slept with the night before. wc: 0.7k

Lily sipped her tea as the marauders animatedly chatted around her in the common room, Marlene in a half-asleep state, head resting on Remus’s shoulder. “Hey, where is y/n, by the way?” Asked Sirius, taking a big gulp out of his own coffee, looking at your two dorm mates for an answer. “Sleeping.” Replied Marlene, blinking slowly. James twisted his his torso to glance at the big clock on the wall behind him, frowning. “It’s 3 in the afternoon.” Lily jolted up, as though having a revelation, and looked straight towards Marlene. “Also, who did she get with last night?” Now this attracted the attention of the other marauders, who instantly turned to stare at Lily. “She slept with someone!?” Whisper-yelled Sirius, glancing between Lily and Marlene.

Marlene scoffed, mumbling “She came back to our dorm at like 1am, and has been knocked out since. So yeah, she definitely slept with someone.” Remus furrowed his eyebrows “Sleeping for thirteen hours doesn’t necessarily mean she slept with someone.” Lily laughed, nodding ‘yes’. “Trust me, good sex can put a girl out for a good fifteen hours. We probably won’t see her until night comes.” “Oh I bet it’s the Ravenclaw.” Marlene thought out loud, and Lily hummed in agreement. “I’ll bet it’s that Slytherin.” She challenged, digging a galleon out of her pocket. Marlene grinned, suddenly awake, and tossed a golden coin onto the table. “How- what!?” Questioned Sirius, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, here comes sleeping beauty.” Teased James loudly, earning a tired grumbled from you as you trudged down the stairs. Lily laughed at the sight of you, dragging your feet behind you, cuddling into your thick sweatshirt.

“So who’s the prince charming?” Marlene added, leaning over the table to high five James. Your eyes widened in a moment of panic, and you nodded your head across the common room. “What?” Asked Sirius, looking between you and the other two girls in the group. You gulped harshly, mumbling “Uh, I can’t say.” Lily and Marlene both had matching confused expressions on their faces, communicating ‘You always tell us though!’ You gave them a warning look, trying to subtly gesture towards Sirius with your eyes, but the second you looked his way, he had caught you.

“Hey! Why’d you look at me like that!” “No reason!” You squeaked, slumping down on the couch next to James, insistently avoiding Sirius’s eyes. “Is it the Slytherin then?” Asked Lily, a hopeful look in her eyes. “Well, uh, not the Slytherin.” You cleared your throat, shooting Lily a reprimanding look. “Oh my god, did you sleep with my cousin!?” Yelled Sirius, earning him a screech of “What!? Sirius your cousins are all girls!” But that had instantly revealed too much. Your eyes widened in realisation and Sirius straightened up, his jaw dropping. “Oh. My. God.” He started, pointing at you accusingly. “Did you sleep with my brother!?”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but nothing came out. Lily and Marlene gasped in unison at the revelation, and James and Remus shared a shocked look. You were already humiliated enough that the boy in the head below managed to whisk you into his bed, sharing secret kisses with you before bringing you pleasure until the early hours of the morning. He had walked you all the way up to the Gryffindor tower, cupping your face and kissing you gently for a long moment before pulling away and wishing you a good night. Your face had flushed, and you had promised him that he’d see you tomorrow. So, today.

“You slept with my fucking brother, oh my god.” You bit your lip, guiltily sinking back into the cushions of the couch. “One of my best friends just slept with my younger brother.”

“I’m sorry Sirius.” You tried apologising, “I really didn’t mean to he just, he just!” But the look Remus shot you was enough to shut you up, warning you not to cross any further lines. An awkward silence settled on the friend group. “Hey, was he at least good in bed though?” Marlene asked “Oh, god yes.” Simple to say, that response got you a pillow chucked in the face.

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216

[aparalleliwouldlaymylifeon]

PRENDS MA MAIN | Regulus Black x F!Reader

summary: the Malfoy's spring ball, a startling betrayal, and a rivalry that just might become so much more when a certain grey eyed boy swallows his fear and follows you out of the ballroom and into the rain. [12K]

C/W: cheating (not from reader or regulus), a lil angst, lucius getting revenge for the reader but no scene including the actual act, emotional breakdown/mild panic attack, slightly defensive/mean reader at first, an actually horrendous amount of pining and one almost kiss

A/N: I'm definitely considering a part 2 (that will not be as long as this lmao) where we get that first kiss, so if that's something anyone would like to see, feel free to send me ideas for how their first kiss should go!!

song inspo: love story by indila

It was an awful thing to witness.

A terrible, sickening humiliation, because you had never thought there was reason to look deeper into their interactions together.

You had never believed you needed to think twice about how earlier in the night your boyfriend had looked almost dazed, eyes wide and lips parted, whilst you had descended the stairs towards him with her and Narcissa at your side.

His voice a soft rush, an awed murmur, for the compliments that had fallen from his mouth like flower petals.

There had been no second guess there either - whether his attempts at charm had ever been made for all of you at aIl and instead was just a way for him to compliment her without looking suspicious.

When you had swept arm in arm into the Malfoy’s spring ball, your gaze stolen away by the elegant vines that crawled the length of the walls and up onto the ceiling, housing bright leaves and flowers with pale petals that rained down in soft flutters, tiny glowing lights dancing between them, you had never considered that instead of sharing your awe, his gaze had been taken by her.

And you hadn’t thought anything of it when he’d asked her to dance after the hours had ticked by and he’d only danced once with you.

It was normal, wasn’t it? To dance with friends at these things - especially if they came without a date of their own.

You danced with Lucius all the time and even Barty and Evan on the rare occasion that they wandered over from their table, parting for a few moments from their sullen grey eyed friend that refused to have anything to do with you.

It didn’t mean anything.

Your boyfriend just didn't like the ‘sappy’ sounding music that often drew your wistful gaze to the dancefloor before one of your boys stepped in and offered their hand in his stead. He didn’t like the proximity with so many others watching, the public intimacy of it all.

In his own words, he simply wasn’t one for dancing or dances in general.

But then you’d been too distracted flitting between your friends to notice that one song had ended and another had begun, neither your boyfriend nor your friend returning as the music swelled through the room, softer than it had been previously, slower. Romantic.

It was Lucius who noticed first.

The direction of your friend’s gaze drifting lazily to somewhere beyond your shoulder before those grey eyes of his suddenly sharpened, the warmth in them morphing into something unfathomably colder, crueller, as he glowered at whatever had caught his attention.

Any hint of the slight, soft smile he’d held for you and the girl tucked against his side, gone, like such a light thing had never even existed in the Malfoy heir in the first place.

You didn’t notice until Narcissa registered the way her boyfriend had stiffened beside her and curiously followed his frigid stare, her own terrifying shift in expression and sharp intake of breath being what finally caught your full attention.

It made you forget about the story you had been telling, words trailing off slowly as your eyes flickered between them, brow pinched in a concern before you made to turn around so you could discover the cause of your friend's unhappiness.

It wasn’t exactly rare for Lucius’ mood to turn at the drop of a hat, for someone he didn’t like to cross his path and draw out that withering glare of his.

But for Narcissa to look so incensed too was something else entirely.

“What’s the matter - please don’t tell me it’s Lu’s lovesick stalker and her awful mother trying to convince your parents to break your engagement again. Honestly, it's just becoming a bit alarming now – oh–”

The sound that came out of you was weak. A pitiful noise like you’d been struck in the stomach mid-sentence and you hated it.

Despised the way something in your chest lurched and cracked, tears pricking at your eyes, as you caught sight of them.

They were swaying more than actually dancing. Chest to chest. Her arms wrapped around his neck, his around her waist, not an inch in between them.

But it was the way they were looking at each other was enough to make the sudden onslaught of nausea swirl unforgivingly in your gut. Soft. Starry-eyed. Sickeningly doting.

It looked like they were in love.

Like they had been for months, maybe even longer, and now that they were holding each other it was as if they couldn’t hide it or rather they didn’t care to since it seemed like no one else existed outside of the bubble they had encased themselves in.

Certainly not you or the dozens of other people that they were humiliating you in front of.

You wanted to vomit - prayed in your mind to any deity that would listen, magical or muggle, that you wouldn’t.

Were they truly so disgustingly infatuated with each other that they didn’t realise what they were doing or was it something worse than that, an even deeper betrayal because the both of them knew you.

They knew how you hated to cause a scene because it was so deeply ingrained in your being that emotional outbursts in the presence of others were undignified at best and an unforgivable display of weakness and vulnerability at worst.

Had they planned this because they thought they could count on your silence, your restrained calm - did they believe that it would save them from you?

Honestly, you weren’t too sure you could trust yourself no matter where your opinion on such public displays typically stood or that you knew the consequences from your parents would be severe if you embarrassed them in front of their peers.

There was too much of a searing rage coiling within your chest.

It mixed violently with every other emotion that was surging through you, the blood in your veins bubbling and spitting, your magic crackling with it, and the thought of drawing your wand and reducing their precious moment to cinders and ash grew more alluring with each passing second that they continued on unaware.

How had you been so fucking blind?

Had any of your friends noticed something you hadn’t and just not known how to tell you? Had others?

You watched the way he smiled at her as she laughed, bile rising in the back of your throat as the murmuring of something sweet made her chin tilt up and oh god, they wouldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

They would.

In a blink, his lips were on hers and then you were stumbling back, jaw clenched so tight you thought your teeth might shatter, desperate to choke down the horrified gasp that burned before it ached when it sank back down in your chest like a stone weight.

The fire that had been snaking itself around your too-fast beating heart sputtered and died out, swallowed up by the shock that seemingly drowned everything else with it and in its place, a terrible hollowness had been left. An overwhelming sense of nothing that you were completely unprepared to deal with.

Cold hands on your shoulders caught you before you could embarrass yourself further by tripping over the hem of your dress. And it should have made you feel better when you looked up to find Lucius staring down at you with a dark, livid gleam in his eyes.

A cruel look on his handsome face that told you he would stride over there right now, elegant even in his most wrathful state, and quietly interrupt the traitorous lovesick fools before leading your boyfriend away to another room.

Somewhere private, in another wing perhaps, where no one would hear the screams as he cast curse after curse. The unholiest ones he could imagine, if that was what you wanted.

It should have made you feel better when Narcissa’s gentle fingers wrapped around your wrist, the familiar touch soothing but not enough to stop you from feeling like you were drowning, her voice soft even if the words she directed at the figures still embracing in the middle of the dancefloor weren’t.

Instead, you hardly registered it when her tone grew worried, or when her boyfriend’s hands on your shoulders squeezed briefly to try and bring you back to yourself.

You didn’t really think about how it would look if you went rushing out of there instead of pretending everything was fine like you had always been taught to when things went wrong.

Head high, shoulders straight and expression schooled into the perfect image of cool indifference.

Above it all, as a pureblood should be.

No, all you could focus on was the sickly kind of heat that was rolling over you, creeping around your ribs and up your neck, the way you couldn’t see properly through the thickening gloss of tears, and the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

Merlin, you just needed to fucking breathe.

So you tore away from your friends without another word, mumbling excuses and apologies that may or may not have made sense, unable to hear the way Narcissa called for you or how Lucius quietly told her to give you the time you needed to be alone when she tried to follow.

You ducked your chin and wove between tables with their crisp white cloths and intricate centrepieces, heels furiously clicking against the floor as your steps hurried you past guests that hovered at the edge of the dancefloor like vultures.

Their sharp stares tracking every misstep, every fumbled spin and weak lift, expressions gleeful and lips stained blood-red from the wine as they whispered poison into each other's ears.

And where once you wouldn’t have been able to resist saying something, resulting in a hand clapped over your mouth and a smooth apology offered by Lucius that no one could resist being charmed by, now you were just grateful that their attention wasn’t on you.

But someone’s was.

Grey eyes had been drawn to you from the very moment you wandered into the ballroom at the beginning of the night, breath hitching in a too tight chest at how beautiful you looked, stunning in a dress that was more like a work of art.

A divine thing that was all shimmering pearls and exquisite beading, material that spilled like water and floated around your feet as you walked.

The familiar boy had watched, mesmerised, as your own eyes glittered, sweeping over the decor with the kind of delight that made him wish he could capture it forever. Memorise in the depths of his very soul the mischievous smile that you couldn’t fully hide behind your hand whilst Narcissa whispered to you through the elder Malfoy’s welcoming speech.

Your quiet chuckle disguised beneath an awfully fake cough when Lucius’ stern but fond gaze fell on you both from where he stood beside his parents.

He wanted to hoard the soft expression you so rarely bestowed upon others but gave to your boyfriend who in a thousand lifetimes would never be worthy of it.

Never be worthy of you.

To curse the waste of space where he stood for being the one who got to revel in the warmth of it yet not appreciate how lucky that made him, for being the one who got to dance with you but never taking the opportunity beside the required first dance to do so.

For not being as sickeningly and hopelessly in love with you as anyone in their right mind should be, as he unfortunately was, ceaselessly jealous of his own friend when Barty had left his side to steal you away for the next dance.

Spinning you faster and faster, over and over again until you were breathless and flushed with laughter, head tilted back and shining brighter than all the stars in the night sky.

Instead he had settled for simply observing, stare cold and furious and deeply offended on your behalf, at how your boyfriend barely paid you the attention you deserved, how you maybe didn’t notice because your friends, whether intentional or not, were quick to make up for the thankless idiot’s failures.

He had found himself unable to look away when the other boy’s eyes shifted and brightened for someone who wasn’t you, ringed fingers tightening harshly around the glass in his hand when your boyfriend leaned and whispered into your ear, nodding towards the girl who was supposed to be a friend.

You’d smiled like you were warmed by the fact he’d wanted to step in and ensure she had a good time, completely trusting as you’d affectionately waved them off in the direction of the dancefloor before turning back to your conversation.

It felt like watching a train wreck.

That slow motion kind of disaster where waiting for the inevitable was almost as horrific as being stood in the middle of the smoking carnage at the end of it.

The next moments had come in flashes, barely there touches and lighthearted gazes that were respectful until they weren’t. A song change, something slow and sweet that drew them closer, tearing apart the pretence as if it had been crudely sewn with nothing more than flimsy honour and weak fealty.

The hands grew bolder as did the stares and then they were forehead to forehead, smiles pulling at their lips like their lack of loyalty and faithfulness wasn’t a disgrace.

Like they weren’t about to break something infinitely more precious than all the riches in gringotts with their betrayal.

He’d never felt dread like it when he watched you turn, your expression shaded with confusion before shock swept it away like a blank state, mouth dropping into a stunned little ‘o’ as understanding crept in and the hurt began to bloom.

The music sounded like the tinkling swell of a fairytale but this was a nightmare. A horror that didn’t seem to be planning on ending there as bodies sped past, couples twirling in blurs that briefly shielded but couldn’t ultimately hide the moment your boyfriend dipped his chin to meet the girl’s mouth with his own.

Rage flooded him, a foul, deep-seething hatred. Fuelled by the pain that twisted at his heart when you staggered back as if the ground had been swept from beneath you and suddenly he didn’t care quite so much about being the perfect son for his parents to parade around. Used to prove how much better his family was than the others there.

He didn’t even care that you hated him and that he’d spent far too long allowing you to believe he hated you too.

He just wanted to reach for you.

And when you strode out of the room, dress swishing violently around your legs and your head downturned to hide the tremble of your lips, the hot sting of tears that spilled over your lash line, Regulus Black didn’t hesitate before following.

****

The courtyard was cold and empty, shining wet in the light of the little glowing orbs floating around the grounds and smelling like the rain that was coming down in fat droplets when you burst out of the manor doors.

It made the soft colour of your dress grow dark in small, random splotches, hem dragging heavy and sodden over the ground as you struggled to march across the gravel in the direction of a large, almost obnoxiously pretty gazebo.

And when you finally stepped foot beneath the pale marble roof you were almost entirely soaked.

There was the soft pat,pat,pat of your hair dripping rainwater onto the floor as you stood there breathing harshly, the uncomfortable feeling of your gloves sticking to your skin. Cold and clinging.

But none of it mattered as much compared to how glad you felt that no one was around to witness the emotional spiral you were unable to talk yourself out of.

The grief and humiliation that felt like it had blended into a living, breathing entity. A savage beast that was trying with all its might to claw its way out of your heart, tearing through the meat of your lungs and shattering ribs as it ripped its way free.

And maybe you couldn’t kill it before it all became too much because you still hadn’t fully caught your breath yet, chest still heaving against that horrible cinching tightness as you paced.

Or maybe it was because the sight of the roses coiling around the columns of your newfound shelter reminded you of the ones currently encasing your neck and your wrist.

The ones he gifted you.

A matching necklace and bracelet that had felt wrong from the moment he had clasped them.

The wrong colour, the wrong flower, the wrong everything really.

All things your boyfriend should have known but you ultimately decided against mentioning to spare his feelings even when he cooed nonsense about “his favourite flower deserving to be adorned in her favourite flower” much to the approval of your parents that morning.

Even they didn’t know you well enough to realise, it had seemed.

You wondered if he knew what her favourite flowers were - if they were roses - if he bought the set with her in mind and just took the gamble that you would be no different.

The thought made the gifts feel like a dead weight.

A mountainous pressure around your throat and wrist that began to crush you slowly and then all at once until the chaos spilling through your head became too much and your fingers scrambled and tore at the metal.

Your steps halted as you fought and tugged against the clasp and then with a furious shout, you ripped the necklace from your throat. Ignoring the bright spark of pain that streaked across your skin as you flung the glittering jewels as far as you could into the nearby hedges.

The bracelet followed much the same way, yanked violently from your wrist as if it burned and tossed away for the rain and earth to tarnish and bury.

But still you didn’t feel any better, instead your mind refused to stop and went to the other things that reminded you of them.

The gloves and the earrings that you had picked out when she had been with you, the pins in your hair that she had offered to borrow you that just happened to perfectly match his gifts. The shoes… for salazar’s sake, was there anything that wasn’t tainted by them?

The dress, you had thankfully bought alone.

Small mercies.

The pins in your hair forced you to be more careful, more gentle than your rage demanded. And through the steady motions your heart eventually slowed that little bit, your tears along with it, both allowing your lungs to expand a little further with each shuddering breath you could then focus on taking.

Tiny pin pricks of relief lessened the panic that had you in chokehold as more and more shining roses clattered to the ground until your hair was completely free of them, your earrings soon following and disappearing out of sight as they bounced off the marble floor in opposing directions.

When you finally slipped off the gloves, grimacing slightly at the feel of wet material dragging along your skin before you dropped them away from you, you were still seething but too exhausted to keep up being truly murderous.

And too distracted with contemplating whether to just kick your shoes off and apparate home barefoot to hear the approach of someone that had been lingering nearby the entire time, their steps slow and careful like they were afraid to make too much noise lest you took off running once more.

“You know, I always thought that Lucius was the one with all the dramatic flair out of you three.” A familiar voice mused behind you, tone mild, as if they were discussing the changes in weather and not the fact it probably appeared like you were losing your damn mind. “But I can’t say I’ve ever seen him flee a party to undress in the rain when someone’s upset him.”

You took a deep breath and tried not to groan, tried not to curse out loud, because really how worse could your luck get that the last person you wanted to face right now was the one who had stumbled across you rapidly descending into madness.

Or maybe that was being too harsh.

He definitely wasn’t the last person, or even second to it, but the younger Black had been a thorn in your side for almost your entire life and you really couldn’t cope with him choosing now as an opportunity to needle you further.

You were already at a disadvantage after all, not only from the way he had managed to sneak up on you when you were vulnerable, but that when you turned around your breath stuck in your chest at the sight of him.

Because Regulus, as much as you were loath to admit it, was a heart-fumbling kind of pretty on a normal day but stood before you in that moment, lit only by the soft globes of light that lingered against the surrounding night, he was breathtaking.

All dark dress robes embroidered with swirling, golden vines and hair that fell in damp, messy curls around his face, soft strands stirring in the night air and illuminating those grey eyes that refused to leave yours for even a second.

You swallowed and the scowl that twisted at your expression was more of a blessed reflex than a genuine result of the ire that his presence ordinarily inspired.

“You almost sound disappointed.” You responded flatly, a low drawl that lacked its usual withering sting. “I could go back in there and get him for you if you’d like, I’m sure he’d be flattered to know that Narcissa isn’t the only Black interested in seeing what he looks like out of those boring suits he’s constantly wearing.”

He tsked, the noise lightly scolding as he leaned against a shining column. “And risk bringing the wrath of my darling cousin down on my head?” There was a typical air of cool arrogance to the boy as he trailed his fingers over coiling vines before flicking one of the light pink roses in disgust, but the way he softened his voice into a tease, all feigned betrayal and suffering, was new. “I had no idea you could be so cruel.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself, amused by this side of him regardless of your bad mood because he was smirking now, and that too was tinged softer, a mirthful tilt to it instead of the mocking edge you had grown so used to.

It was strange, endearing.

It was almost enough to make you forget the years you had spent finding ways to wipe any smirk he’d previously gave you off his face

Almost.

You rolled your eyes, incapable of resisting scoffing. “Narcissa is an angel, you just have a rather murderous effect on people.”

His smirk deepened at that, a quiet laugh crackling in the back of his throat like it was a sound he didn't make often and you could feel his eyes on you as you turned towards the manor, watching each quiet step that you took until you leaned against the pillar opposite his. Arms crossed protectively over your chest because it felt like the boy was trying his best to see right through you.

“Besides, if I was truly as cruel as you claim, there would be a Shakespearean tragedy currently taking place in the Malfoy’s ballroom,” you muttered with a half-hearted smile, attempting to sound light and failing terribly, “but unfortunately, as you can tell by the lack of screaming and the fact that I’m out here with you, there is not.”

There was a moment of silence, then two, nothing but the patter of rain and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and you could have cursed yourself for being so open. For not being able to pretend you were incapable of being hurt just a little bit longer in front of someone that you were sure would delight in seeing you so weakened.

But then…

“Pity, it would have been well deserved.” Regulus spat viciously without thinking, tone dark and the pale highs of his cheeks tinting pink when you turned from the Manor to blink at him in surprise. He swallowed his venom back before it could rear again. A second of hesitation before admitting, softer than before. “I saw everything.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh.”

The air grew thick with his confession, heavy and pressing in a way that made you feel suffocated, like you were trapped, pinned down and held hostage so he could observe every second of the reaction you had to his words down to the slightest twitch.

It brought that uncomfortable flush of panic back, the sickly drip of red-hot embarrassment sliding down your spine.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Regulus whispered, his gaze shifting away almost immediately after the words were out of his mouth, darting to anywhere but where you were as he fought with the nervousness of reaching out that metaphorical hand, the raw edge of vulnerability it inspired on both sides.

It made him oblivious to the way you were bristling.

The misinterpretation you had made of his intentions.

But then you were laughing. A dead, humourless sound that had his head snapping towards you, confusion marring his expression at the sudden coldness in your voice, your narrowed eyes that he found already glaring at him.

“So that’s why you're here, to get a closer look at my humiliation?”

He blanched. “No, of course n–”

“To gather some more intimate details to use the next time you’re failing to win one of our arguments?”

Regulus shook his head, hands almost reaching for you as he tried to say your name, soft and soothing, but you didn’t even seem to register it. Defences drawn too high, too quick, and accusations falling from your tongue faster than you could choke them back. Leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Or maybe you just wanted to go in for the kill right here, easy prey and all that–”

Golden light hit you then, a small globe floating closer and illuminating the planes of your face that allowed him to catch sight of the way you looked, the hardened mask you had slipped on to protect yourself before someone else could hurt you. Lashing out on instinct before they even got the chance.

It was a tactic he knew all too well, and the familiarity made his heart twist.

His ribs constricting over the fact he knew just how badly you were suffering if you had resorted to needing to use it, that you felt you had to because you couldn't comprehend the situation ending any other way than you suffering more at his own hands.

“Is that what you really think?” Regulus interrupted bluntly, but it wasn’t angry, he wasn’t leaping at the chance to fight with you like you had expected either. Instead, he seemed resigned by the conclusions you had leapt to. Not surprised but pained by it all the same.

Or maybe you were just really fucking tired and seeing things, too exhausted to even know what to think anymore because tonight had already proven rather brutally that you couldn’t judge a person's character as well you thought you could.

You were cranky and uncomfortable in your too high heels and your rain-damp dress, uneasy with how the look on the boy’s face was enough to make you feel surprisingly awful. Like you had failed him somehow by assuming the worst.

You stared at each other from opposite sides of the gazebo, his expression resigned, yours wary, before you shrugged like it was obvious. “It’s not like either of us are in the habit of showing kindness or mercy, Black.”

“Maybe not, but I would never - not with this. I despise that you think that low of me.”

“Why?”

“Parce que je ne pourrais jamais te faire de mal, ni même vouloir te faire du mal, bien au contraire en fait.”

You gave him a strange look before glaring once again, more half-hearted than annoyed this time. “You cannot keep derailing our arguments by switching to French, it’s infuriating… and also cheating.”

Regulus ignored the complaint, huffing, but you swore you caught a glimpse of his lips faintly twitching upwards when he dipped his chin. “If you must know, I’m here because Cissa and Lucius were busy taking care of things in there and I thought that you could use someone, even if you didn’t want to talk and just needed somebody there, even if it was someone you hated.”

He swallowed hard and you couldn’t help but stare as his eyes rose to meet yours. “Even if it was just me.”

You let loose a shaky breath at that, chest warming before guilt began to seep its way in through the hollows between your ribs.

“I’m sorry.” You told him, voice hurting, before pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in frustration because god, what was wrong with you? Attacking him for daring to try and offer some comfort despite all of your messy history, despite it going against his cold, reserved nature. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, of course I don’t think that.”

It hardly felt like enough of an apology to quell the shame you felt at your accusations but it eased the tension slightly. Enough that your walls began to tumble down, brick by crumbling brick, and defeat rose over them, mortifyingly accompanied by the burn of tears gathering in your eyes.

You withdrew before the boy could hopefully suspect, blinking rapidly once your back was turned, and the soft-click of your heels sounded deafening in the silence as you moved towards a small bench and allowed yourself to slump on to it.

“I feel like a joke,” you eventually confessed when you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack, “like there must have been people that knew the whole time and were watching me waiting for when the penny dropped so they could laugh at my ignorance, how blind I’ve been. How unbelievably fucking stupid to have fell for it all.”

“No.” He chastised and there was that sharpness in his voice again, that fire burning in his eyes as he strode over and knelt gracefully before you. “Don’t you dare blame yourself, don’t do them the kindness of relieving even a fraction of the guilt for a moment. They don’t deserve it.”

The hand that he gingerly placed on your knee was a little cold but gentle, his thumb skimming the arch of it in weightless, calming strokes, and you watched the boy with stuttering lungs and an ache in your heart as his stare dimmed. Slipping far away to a time years before.“I don’t think you’ve been blind, nobody expects betrayal from those who are supposed to be closest to us.”

You made a mournful sound of agreement to that, still a little sad for yourself, surprisingly more than a little upset for Regulus who you’d forgotten held the agony and jagged shards of a different kind of betrayal inside him.

But just as you were about to awkwardly lay your hand on his, to try and offer at least a fraction of the comfort he’d been trying to give you despite how difficult you made it, a new and terrible fear seeped into your mind.

“Did you ever suspect anything and feel like you couldn’t tell me because of our history?”

The boy glanced back up at you then, frowning as he searched your face, like he could find the cause of the sudden flare of fear in your voice there, before shaking his head. “I would have told you regardless, even if I thought you’d curse me for it, I would still have told you. So no, I didn’t suspect a thing.”

“You don’t have to lie if you did.” You whispered, still unconvinced. Still entirely too nervous that Regulus could turn on a whim and wound you further with more secrets. More lies.“I know you, Black, nothing escapes your notice, you watch everyone.”

“Maybe, but I think I'd rather let Bella's demonic owl claw my eyes out than choose to watch that idiot.” He scoffed, mildly indignant as he rose to sit beside you, and the loss of his hand on your knee as he did so made you feel colder than you were prepared for. “Especially when there are people far more interesting worth the time.”

“Oh– like who? Which poor soul has earned the delight of your relentless attention?” You joked distractedly, still staring at the place where you felt bare without his touch, confused by the soft buzz beneath your skin that was imploring you to reach across and take his hand and put it back.

“You.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting in shock, as your head snapped up to look at him and though for a moment Regulus looked discomforted, a little stunned himself as if he hadn't meant to let such an admission slip, he didn’t look away either.

Instead the silence stretched into a handful of seconds, a miniscule eternity, with both of you trapped in this new territory of raw, startling honesty by each other's stare as the rain pelted the roof of your marbled sanctuary.

And maybe it was catching.

Maybe it had struck a place you thought was suppressed too deep to be reached like a loosed arrow, because suddenly you found yourself with the insane urge to tell him, it isn't just you, I’ve caught myself watching you as well.

But then Regulus cleared his throat and schooled his expression back into a careful nonchalance, shrugging. "How else would I make sure my favourite rival hasn't finally figured out a way to best me again?"

“Ah, of course, merlin forbid I ever score one extra mark than you again in a few classes.” You attempted to laugh lightly but the sound came out strange, a little strained, a little more bitter than you could make sense of.

Salazar fucking help you, this was madness.

You really needed to go home.

To leave and let yourself process everything that had happened like a sane person instead of whatever this was that you were doing or, even better, to sleep for a week so you could ignore the inevitable questions that would come with morning.

Your parents and their suffocating disappointment that would be heaped upon your shoulders, like you being publicly cheated on was somehow a cause of shame for them.

Maybe you could just obliviate yourself to avoid it all entirely.

There was still the faint sting of betrayal prickling behind your ribs but it had softened considerably, cushioned surprisingly by the presence of the boy sitting beside you.

And you found that if there was a choice between this messy and awkward attempt at comfort, at peace between you however temporary, or the cold loneliness of your room where your thoughts could easily eat you alive once you were trapped with them, then you didn't want to leave him just yet.

Especially not when you felt like you were discovering so much about the youngest black who notoriously kept everything close to his chest, not when you found yourself liking this side of him that he was allowing you to see.

Not even when a cold wind swept around the gazebo and in the spaces between you, whipping up frigid droplets of rain that latched onto your skin and felt like they were biting down into your bones.

You startled whilst Regulus cursed, a shocked laugh bubbling up from your throat when you caught sight of him wiping the wetness away from his face with a look of terrible, personal offence.

It made those grey eyes snap to yours, staring a little oddly, almost far too intensely, but you didn't get the feeling that he was angry at you laughing at him as you would have expected.

It was more like he'd been surprised by the sound of it, like your laugh was something he'd never heard before and he needed that moment or two to understand what he was hearing.

Not that that was actually the case, but Regulus would likely hex himself before he ever told you otherwise.

He would never tell you that he knew full well what your laughter sounded like, that the faint wisps of it he had only ever caught from afar were wrapped in coils around his ribs and haunted his heart. That he knew it well but only at a distance, and never when he was the cause of it.

Not until now at least, where the sound of it had caused something so violently fond to bloom in his chest that it had rendered breathless. Stunned.

He would never tell you that perhaps, from that moment, with rain water still clinging to his cheek and your joy echoing in his ears, he had finally known what his favourite sound in the world was and that nothing else could ever possibly compare.

And maybe he was still just that little bit bewildered when the first shiver overtook you. It had only been a small thing after all, barely strong enough to make your hands quake and sweeping only the faintest of goosebumps up your arms.

Easily missed.

But then the second came on with a vengeance and your trembling snapped him straight out of the trance he had been caught up in, snagging his attention only seconds after it had the chance to begin and making his brows pinch in the middle with concern.

A soft noise of disapproval escaping his parted lips before he began swiftly, and elegantly, shrugging the jacket of his dress robes off.

“You're freezing,” Regulus muttered, the sound of it only vaguely exasperated like he was biting his tongue to stop himself from questioning just how you had beaten him at all last year but didn’t have the brains to wear a coat before barging out into the rain. “take this.”

You couldn't even argue with him.

You weren't allowed the chance before the boy was reaching for you and slipping it far more gently than you expected around your shoulders, wrapping it over the unsteady rise of your chest when your breath caught at his closeness, and then you were too busy being engulfed in the smell of him to summon much of a protest.

Too distracted as you breathed him in.

It was a light and clean scent, a little woodsy. The layer beneath it all something that you couldn't quite give a specific name to, but you would know it anywhere, knew without really understanding how you did, that it belonged only to Regulus.

Not that that meant anything.

It didn't.

Did it?

No, absolutely not.

But his hands were still clasping the jacket when he realised you were frozen in an entirely different sense, staring at him silently like you were trying to figure a puzzle out and had no clue where to begin.

As if he could sense it, his eyes flicked up to yours just as he began to let go and then suddenly he…couldn't.

Or rather, it felt impossible to because there was a dangerous effect to what he had just done that he hadn't considered when your shivering had brought something protective out of him.

Getting so close to you, wrapping you up in his jacket that made you look too comfy the second it enveloped you, too perfect despite how strange it looked with your dress.

Too much like you were his.

It had his heart misbehaving wildly behind his ribs, his throat bobbing as he prayed to anyone that would listen that you couldn't hear the erratic pounding of it that felt deafening to his own ears.

You couldn't.

You were too caught up in your own, too caught up on the fact that Regulus had discovered you blatantly staring at him and was now staring right back at you like he was waiting for you to say something, do something. Anything at all.

It should have felt embarrassing.

It should have felt wrong to be letting yourself act like this. To be entertaining whatever delusion this was, because merlin, you had already been hurt once tonight and allowing yourself to be thoughtless and soft, unguarded, around Regulus Black of all people felt a lot like you were begging to be hurt again.

But his face was only inches from yours. His hair a little wild from the wind, the rain that stubbornly clung to it, and when a drop fell from one of the dark curls above his brow onto the arc of his cheek, looking far too much like a tear for your liking, you had been unable to help yourself.

A little enraptured by the sight of your own fingers rising to gently wipe it away, the feel of his soft, warm skin beneath your touch and the sight of Regulus’ grey eyes widening before they helplessly fluttered shut.

For a second neither of you moved.

You let your hand linger, let your fingers twitch so they brushed against him once more in the barest ghost of a touch whilst Regulus swallowed. Fighting against clasping your hand in his own and holding it there, pressing it deeper into his skin until the feel of it had no choice but to linger long after you left him.

His name was a soft weight on your tongue begging to fall, an airy sigh that was maybe more of a question than a statement. The kind where you weren't quite sure what you were asking but you were helpless to stop yourself from asking it anyway, and even the rain seemed to have fallen quiet like it wanted you to say it.

The world around you going hush like it was giving you a chance to see something important.

But then, the thunder came.

A loud, rolling grumble that slammed down on that pull you felt and made you flinch and pull back as Regulus’ eyes snapped open. That coaxed the rain to fall harder, closer to a downpour than a mere spring shower, and the sound of it felt an awful lot like sanity crashing its way back in.

It forced you to look away towards the manor just so you wouldn't have to look at him. Glaring through the rain at the looming structure like it was at fault that your head was in chaos, like it had everything to do with your cheeks being far too warm and the confusion simmering in your chest.

The panic you felt that the boy beside you might see something you weren't ready for him too, something you weren’t ready to realise had possibly taken root within yourself despite years of surety that you felt the opposite.

“We should go in.” You grumbled, forcing your voice to sound normal in a way that you didn't feel, but goddammit you were determined to get through the night without embarrassing yourself further. “Before Cissa sends Lu to look for us, he'll be furious if we make him get his hair wet.”

There was a pause after you spoke and you could feel Regulus looking at you, waiting for you to say something else.

It felt like he was gauging whether or not you were going to acknowledge what had just happened or maybe he was thinking of doing it himself , but either way, in the end he seemed to quietly decide to offer you the grace to hide by ignoring it just like you were.

Allowing a soft snort escape him instead, followed by a light mutter that made your lips quirk despite yourself.

“And what a tragedy that would be.”

Relieved, you merely shook your head in response, warning. “You're joking now but the last time I messed with Lucius’ hair, he turned mine green for a month.”

Regulus made a rather inelegant noise at that, a choked sounding thing that told you he was struggling not to laugh.

“That was the reason for your so-called rebellious phase in fifth year? Well it could have been worse, I suppose.” He snickered, hands raising in a mock defensive gesture when you whipped your head in his direction to shoot him a withering look. “If it makes you feel any better, when we were children, Cissa once got so mad that she hexed me and made me completely orange.”

You were unable to help the bright shock of laughter that burst from the back of your throat before you could smother it behind your hand at the thought of a surly, bright orange Regulus. “What the hell did you do?”

He had the audacity to look, for a moment, a little scandalised. That familiar haughty look gracing his sharp features as he huffed but his gaze glinted ever so slightly, mirthful. “I never said I had anything to do with it, did it ever occur to you that maybe I was simply caught in the crossfire?”

You just grinned and rolled your eyes, because whilst the entire world seemed to believe the youngest black was above or incapable of causing trouble, you knew better. “Not in the slightest.” You admitted breezily.

“Rude.” Regulus chastised, frowning, or at the very least attempting to because the moment you rose a challenging brow at him in response, his mouth tilted up at one corner. “Fine, honestly, I don't even remember. I just know it took my mother going to my aunt to get Cissa to remove it because everything she tried to undo it wouldn't work.”

You tutted. “See, I told you, you just have a maddening effect on people.”

“Actually,” he laughed softly, still quiet but more easily than he had before, and the sound of it was enough to make something golden rush through because Regulus Black, of all people, apparently had the most beautiful laugh you had ever heard. “I believe the term you used was murderous, or is this just your way of saying you're warming up to me.”

“Don't get too ahead of yourself.” You deadpanned. “It differs from moment to moment.”

“I'd be disappointed if it didn't.” He told you, eyes gleaming. “I rather enjoy that savage little look of yours when I get beneath your skin, I'd hate for it to be gone entirely.”

You were a little flustered, both at his words and the way he was looking at you, the lingering effect of his laugh still buzzing beneath your skin.

You wanted to say something snarky, to ruffle him as he had so easily done to you, but then the wind was blowing strands your hair across your face that you had to impatiently push away, and suddenly your hand was being caught in the hold of Regulus' careful fingers.

The contact made you startle, made you glance at him with wide, stunned eyes but the boy wasn't even looking at you as you did so, at least not at your face anyway.

His attention had instead been captured on the scuffed skin of your wrist. A patch that was torn and sore looking, beaded with dry blood where metal flowers had caught and snagged like thorns.

Concerned eyes rose briefly to yours before they deliberately dropped straight back to the wound and though he didn’t say anything, you could tell that he wanted to.

Instead, Regulus settled for a lightly admonishing click of his tongue as his hand slipped down yours until he could hover his thumb over the rough skin.

You tried to keep your expression neutral despite the way your heart had become a thunderous thing as he ghosted over it once and then again, just shy of true contact, the imitation of a caress that made you more breathless than you cared to admit.

But when he lowered it close enough that there was barely a hairs-width of space between your skin and his, close enough that you expected the pain of him pressing against it, you couldn't help the soft, surprised sound that bubbled out of your throat at the soft rush of magic you felt instead.

It was a cool thing.

Not cold enough to chill but soothing, like the first relieving, gentle sweep of a breeze on a too warm day, as light as whisper, and you watched enraptured at the pale glow that hummed between your skin and his.

The way it made your flesh knit and become smooth once more before your very eyes until all that was left was the tiny specks of dried blood clinging to your skin.

He finally touched you then, rubbing his thumb gently over your wrist until the red cracked and flaked away.

“Do I need to be concerned that there's anywhere else you're slowly bleeding to death from and refusing to tell me?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, speechless. “Now who's being dramatic… but no, you'll have to find some other way to show off I'm afraid.” You murmured, only half serious when you recovered from the surprise and pinned him with an offended glare. “You never told me you could do wandless magic.”

“And deny myself the pleasure of seeing the expression on your face when you discovered it for yourself? Never.” Regulus smirked, looking far too proud of himself as he carefully placed your hand back in your lap before reaching for the cufflinks gleaming against the dark fabric of his shirt.

You huffed at that. Still somewhat bewildered though amused, and rather a little bit charmed, though you would never admit it. “What are you doing now?”

His gaze shone at you, eyes bright and knowing whilst nimble fingers slipped the cufflinks free until they clinked together in the palm of one pale hand. “Showing off.” Regulus drawled.

You didn't know how to reply to that in a way that wasn't teasing, that didn't have at least a tiny little bite to it with the intention of getting a rise out of the boy who had effortless control around everybody but you.

But you didn't want to fight, you didn't want a war of intelligence when an already exhausting night had led to something softer between you, something easier to breathe around, so you said nothing.

And besides, you were way more interested in what he had planned.

With curiosity sparkling in your veins like a champagne fizz, you watched as Regulus cupped his free hand over the other.

His gaze met yours, brows lightly furrowed and lips parted in concentration, when that same pale glow began to leak through the spaces of his clasped hands, steady, searching, as it flared brighter and brighter until it seemed as if the boy had raised a hand towards the night sky and scooped up a star to hold between his trembling fingers.

A small eternity seemed to pass whilst you were caught within that moment, the one where your breath hitched as his magic reached toward you again, strong enough this time to feel like you were connected to him through it.

And you had to wonder if he felt it too when Regulus offered you a smile that seemed so stripped down of its typical refinedness, so shy almost, that something in your chest ached with it.

It felt like it had been hours rather than seconds when that cool light finally dimmed, receding until the two of you were left with only the soft, twinkling orbs to illuminate you once more.

You missed it almost immediately, a chill taking its place that felt more than skin deep. You nearly embarrassed yourself by saying as much before Regulus slowly lifted his hand and what lay within his palm had you choking on air. Flustered and stunned.

Because where his cufflinks once were now lay a bracelet and a necklace, the chains thin, elegant and lovely. A small, exquisitely crafted flower hung at the centre of both, nestled between leaves that were delicate enough that they didn't crowd, that they only embellished the true beauty of the pieces.

It was a little ridiculous how they had made you gape at him, how your eyes misted at the sight of them and something tightened in your throat, your unsteady chest.

But how could you not when they were so perfect, what other way could you react to them being your favourite colour, your favourite flower, your favourite everything.

And here was Regulus Black, the person you thought had hated you for as long as you could remember, conjuring them for you because he knew.

You whispered his name and he swallowed hard, cheeks warming at the way you looked at him as if he had given you the stars, at the way he had lay a part of himself bare with the gesture and you had understood immediately.

That you knew now without a doubt that Regulus was not lying when he had told you he watched you.

He himself had given you the proof.

He waited for you to say something. For you to brush the whole thing off with a joke or a tease, that little voice in his head that told him this was a horrendous idea, whispering that he might have well shown you his throat for you to rip him apart, but it seemed for the first time in his life like he had disarmed you entirely.

It was perhaps, the softest he had ever seen you, the most human, no walls drawn high or a perfect facade worn like a veil over the real you.

You were wide eyed and cautious, every emotion visible on your face as your hand rose to reach for his own, stopping just shy of touching like you were afraid if you did the moment would crack and crumble. Nothing more than another cruel illusion.

It made him want to take your hand in his, to link his fingers between yours as the chains pressed into both your palms and assure you that this was real. Refusing to allow that insecurity to grow any further.

He didn't. He wasn't that brave enough just yet.

Instead, with a voice that sounded as nervous as you looked, cracking just that little bit whilst he lifted his hand towards you, he asked, “May I?”

The question made something bloom behind your ribs, a soft, wild thing that made your heart beat a little too unruly and your blood pulse with light.

You nodded, unable to trust the strength of your voice, and then you were turning for him. Shaky hands lifting your hair out of the way as Regulus moved closer, almost enough that you could feel the movement of his body as he breathed when he leaned into you, cool metal landing gently between your collarbones and his fingers upon the back of your neck.

You sucked in a sharp breath when the soft buzz you had felt before at his touch returned tenfold and he immediately mistook the sound for discomfort. “I'm sorry–” he whispered, feeling foolish as he winced. “I know my hands are cold–”

“No– no, they're fine, it's not that at all, I l–”

Merlin, no, stop.

You could feel heat searing your cheeks, creeping down the slope of your neck, and you prayed that Regulus couldn't feel it. That he hadn't caught on to the fact you had nearly slipped up and told him you liked how his hands felt on you.

There was silence after that as Regulus fastened the clasp, not an uncomfortable one but restless almost, charged.

It made the air crackle and fizz, made it feel all too warm despite the rain and thunder crashing around the gazebo as you turned before he could shuffle back. Bodies suddenly closer than either of you knew how to be normal about, faces even more so.

You couldn't look away even when his eyes dropped, dark lashes fluttering, skimming over pale skin when he blinked once, twice, a third time, as if he was willing away the intensity that had been burning within them.

He reached for your hand without another word, the bracelet that had been resting upon his leg now circling around the delicate expanse of your wrist and as he bowed his head to concentrate, a familiar song spilled out from the manor door.

It slipped across the grounds and swirled into the air around you, settling over your skin and sinking down deep into your chest. Making your heart clench, your eyes falling closed.

“I’ve always loved this song.” You murmured before you could help yourself, tone wistful. A little heavy with longing. “I used to plead with him to dance with me when it came on but he never did. Said it embarrassed him because it was too romantic and made him look soft. He was furious when I danced with Barty to it.”

“I remember that.”

Your eyes snapped open. “You do?”

Regulus nodded, though his stare remained on the bracelet's fastening, messy curls bobbing with the movement.“It’s the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Lucius had been spinning both you and Cissa around the dancefloor and when that song started, Barty immediately stepped in when he saw your boyfriend wouldn’t and Lucius spun you straight into him.”

You could see it all, exactly as Regulus described.

Another extravagant ballroom, another shimmering dress, your body being guided across the floor by one of your best friend's instead of your boyfriend. The only thing that you were missing was him.

The boy who had watched it all without you ever even realising.

And so you listened, entranced, your breath held among the branches in your lungs without meaning to as he continued. As he secured the bracelet around your wrist but couldn't quite convince himself to let go of your hand.

“I think the smile you gave him when he caught you made him fall in love just a little.” He teased, chin tilting up so he could look at you, the edges of his pretty mouth curling into an unbidden smile like he couldn't help himself. “But it was nothing compared to your laugh, the way it filled the room with something warm and real and made everything brighter.”

Salazar help you, you were pretty sure your heart was about to combust.

Regulus paused and frowned then, grey eyes growing stormy for just a moment. “And then that bastard ruined it by pouting the rest of the night, Barty wanted to kill him for it.”

There was something about the way he said it, how his tone dipped low, dark, ice creeping in beneath his words, that made you wonder if Barty hadn't been the only one with murderous intent towards your boyfriend that night. The only one who had felt soft on you in the moments before it had all been tarnished.

It made something pure rush through your veins at the thought. Made you feel suddenly bolder, braver than you had been earlier.

“So you really weren't bluffing about watching me, were you? You've remembered my favourite flowers, my favourite song, and that I can’t get my own boyfriend to dance with me.” You began, voice calm, quiet, as you drew soft lines along his fingers with your own.

The touch had Regulus’ eyes falling to your joint hands.

Surprise briefly etching itself over his features like he hadn't even realised he had never let go, and when his gaze darted back up to yours he waited quietly for what came next, breath hitching his chest, as he watched you like you were dangerous.

You licked your lips, a readying gesture that the boy's stare helplessly followed, his fingers tightening around yours before you took the plunge. “Care to let me in on how all of this is supposed to aid you against me? It doesn't really seem like the ‘destroy your rival’ kind of information.”

He hummed, nonchalant about it despite the way his cheeks had turned a rather endearing shade of pink. “Maybe that's the point, information that appears innocent can sometimes be the most effective in helping achieve what you want.”

“And what do you want, Regulus?”

He was quiet for a handful of seconds at that, thoughtful.

His eyes flickering between yours, over every inch of your face, and then slowly he pulled back and stood. Ensuring that your hand never once left his as he placed himself in front of you and bowed like the proper gentlemen he had been raised to be.

“Dance with me.” He murmured.

Oh.

You couldn't deny that you were caught off guard by the question, by the strange turn of events and the way the boy was looking down at you. At the crooked little smirk he suddenly bore that was a touch playful and all challenge, his stare twinkling with it.

But even more so, you were captivated.

It made you huff out a disbelieving laugh and then you were narrowing your eyes, feigning suspicion as you pretended to look him up and down. “I don’t know, this feels like a trap.”

“Does it?” Regulus mused, the quirk of his lips morphing into a slow smile. “Don’t tell me you're intimidated by me now.”

You snorted. “Shaking in my heels, I may even faint.”

The words came out sarcastic but hardly biting, full of a more friendly kind of taunt, and when he scoffed and grinned down at you, you were already beaming back. Eyes bright and lovely, soft with new, unfurling affection.

It was the kind of smile that made his heart race. The kind that told him if he held your hand that little bit tighter and gave a small, gentle tug, you would follow the pull until you were on your feet and in his arms.

So he did.

And then he was holding you.

Regulus was gentle with it as his hand placed your own upon his shoulder, the other curving slowly over your waist, a brief moment of indulgence before it slid upwards to rest perfectly against the centre of your back.

He pulled you in further once he was satisfied with your positions, far closer than the dance required or was deemed proper, but he was past caring about rules at that moment and what everyone else expected of him. Concerned only with how your proximity made his head spin and the way you were smiling at him like you knew.

“See, not so terrifying after all.” Regulus teased.

And before you could retort, he was leading you in small, elegant steps. Amusement flaring in his eyes and a slightly self-satisfied twitch to his lips when you startled and clung to him tighter before your muscle memory kicked in.

You shot him a half-hearted glare in response, nose scrunching to hide the way there was laughter bubbling up in your throat, threatening to break free. Airy and delighted.

It continued like that for barely a minute until your steps became more elaborate, until the gazebo felt too small for the way Regulus wanted to sweep you off your feet. To move freely with you, completely unhindered, and spin you over and over until you came beautifully alive in his arms.

He barely gave you any warning before he did it, just a brief glance of those pretty, grey eyes to the storm raging outside and then he was dragging you into the thick of it.

Your shocked laughter only slightly muffled by the downpour of rain as he held you tight and twirled you both across slick stones that crunched beneath your feet and perfectly manicured lawns with their gorgeous rows of blooming flowers. The glimmering light of the enchanted orbs making you both shine.

It felt like a fairytale, a dream you didn't want to wake up from which was surprising given how it had all started.

But now all you cared about was that this beginning felt like the most magical thing in the world, that with Regulus’ laughter rumbling from his chest to your own and his chin dipped to watch you with a smile that rivalled the sun, you were infinitely happier than you had been in a long time.

And as the song reached its crescendo he lifted and spun you until you were both breathless, dipped you until your hair was brushing the damp ground and the most glorious sounds spilled from your lips. The pure joy that he had heard long ago and cherished in secret until now, where he got to bask in being the sole cause of it himself.

When it ended you felt dazed, euphoric. Your bodies were closer than before, arms wound around Regulus’ neck and his hands holding you tight, pressing flush to your back to mold you against him. Each heaving breath was taken with you chests moving together and your cheeks felt as hot from the exertion of it all as his looked.

You were drenched, hair plastered to your faces but the air between you held that familiar tension, something electric. Heavy with anticipation as he leaned closer, his nose nudging your own.

His voice was a low rasp when he murmured your name, a lovely, tortured sounding thing that made you shiver as he drew a hand up your back and along the curve of your neck until he could cup your jaw.

Your brain short-circuited at the touch, lips parting in response and your fingers curling desperately into the collar of his shirt like that alone would stop you from falling if Regulus threatened your ability to remain upright any further than he already was.

You had a sneaking suspicion that he planned on it.

That the way his eyes had gone dark beneath the full fan of his lashes, the way they flickered from your own down to your lips and lingered just a beat too long, meant that Regulus full-heartedly considering kissing you right then.

And maybe what was even worse for your sanity, was that you suspected that you wanted him to as well.

But then, as if waking from a daze or the heavy influence of a spell, Regulus shook his head. Something pained flashing across his features as he gently let you go and stepped back.

“Tu n'as aucune idée à quel point je veux t'embrasser.” He whispered hoarsely. Voice thick with guilt and restrained longing. “Mais je ne peux pas. Je ne veux pas vous brusquer ou profiter.”

You frowned. Not quite upset, because there was no malice in Regulus’ actions, but a little confused. More than a bit curious as you fought against the urge to reach for him again and opened your mouth to–

“As lovely I'm sure the conversation you're having is,” a drawling voice interrupted, calling out effortlessly above the noise of the storm, “if I have to come out there to retrieve either of you, I will personally see to it that your own storm clouds follow you around at every waking moment for the next month.”

The threat came, unsurprisingly, from none other than Lucius who stood beneath the wide doorway to the manor with Narcissa at his side. Both of their gazes regarding you far too closely and matching smirks tugging at the corners of their mouths like they had stumbled across something scandalous.

You rolled your eyes before you turned to them both, expression torn slightly but fond as you looked between them and him before starting to make your way over whilst Regulus followed quietly at your back. “Only the waking moments? You're losing your touch, Lu.”

“It's called leniency, darling.” Your best friend muttered, his stare sharp on the jacket that was hanging off your frame, the way Regulus didn't think as he held his hand out to help you over the pebbled walkway and you took it without hesitation. “I can afford to show a bit of mercy now I've expelled some anger elsewhere.”

The warmth of the manor enveloped you as you stepped inside, and Lucius let out a sound at the sight of you now you were in full light that was half mothering concern, half admonishing, before sauntering over to stand in front of you.

He withdrew his wand, murmuring a spell to dry you off whilst Narcissa did the same for her cousin. Smooth fingers caught at your chin before he turned your head this way and that, inspecting for injuries or signs of distress, both old and new, the possibility of fresh tears caused by the boy who had been known to be cruel to you before.

“You're okay?” He asked, voice stern, cool but not uncaring, and there was a flicker of relief in his eyes when you nodded honestly. “Good, we've had enough tragic medical emergencies for one night and I don't think Cissa would be happy with me if I cursed a member of her family.”

You laughed faintly, astounded by how the night had turned out, but affection flooding warm in your chest for your friends regardless. “My insincere condolences for those harmed, and yeah, I'd be careful with our lovely Narcissa, I've heard she's fond of turning people orange and that it's almost irreversible.”

From the corner of your eyes you saw the way Lucius' brows raised at your comment, the way his gaze snapped questioningly to his girlfriend, who scoffed and muttered a betrayed sounding ‘tell-tale’ at the dark-haired boy beside her.

Your attention for the most part, however, was upon Regulus and though his head was downcast, you could tell that he was smiling. Lips twisting and teeth biting into his cheek to hide his amusement at the joke you had made for him.

And when your two friends had finished their fussing, Narcissa touching up your makeup and hair with an expert flick of her wand, a warm, affectionate kiss laid upon your cheek for extra support as Lucius teasingly advised you both that wearing your own clothes upon reentering the ballroom was probably best unless you wanted to invite whispers, they shared a look between them.

A small, glancing, thing that held a conversation you weren't privy to but you were a hundred percent sure was about you, given the way their eyes flickered briefly over both you and Regulus before they decided to walk ahead instead of beside you.

There was comfort between you and your old rival as you approached the room, a newfound ease to being around each other that made walking back into a potential hell, depending on just how discreet Lucius and Cissa had been in their revenge, that much more bearable.

But there was also that undercurrent of tension still crackling beneath it all, the weight of everything that had transpired between you. A dissolving rivalry and conjured jewellery, a dance that had meant everything and an almost kiss that had left you shaken and breathless with how badly you had wanted it.

Your fingers brushed his when you heeded Lucius’ words and handed the jacket back to him, lingering for a moment too long to be anything but deliberate, and it looked like it physically pained Regulus to pull away.

To slip back on a jacket that now smelled like you and not grasp your hand in his after he'd become enamoured with how right it had felt holding it.

“You cheated again by the way.” You whispered after a moment, eyes still ahead, and just loud enough for him alone to hear when the silence finally grew too much, when you realised belatedly that you missed the sound of his voice.

He glanced at you inquisitively then, brow raising and a teasing, faux exasperation hidden in the way he asked. “How so?”

“When we almost k– before we were interrupted.” You huffed, refusing to look at him because you could feel from the heat of his stare that even a near mention of your almost kiss had Regulus’ eyes dropping distractedly to your mouth. “You spoke French again, it's an unfair advantage.”

He laughed at that, low in his throat as he shook his head. Slowing his pace just that little bit as you drew nearer to the ballroom doors, eager to draw this out just a few moments more. “Just because you find me charming doesn't necessarily mean I'm cheating, ma chérie.” He murmured, leaning into you until his shoulder nudged yours, a touch smug.

It may not have been, he was right, but it was hardly fair the way it made your heart play up, the way something in your stomach flipped when he got a little bit cocky with it but salazar help you, two could play at that game if the boy suddenly wanted to tease.

“It does when you use it to tell me about how you don't want to take advantage, don't you think?” You asked innocently, biting your lip as you fought not to laugh at the way Regulus whipped his head around to stare at you. Disbelief blatant as you sighed, “I mean, you have to know that the whole French thing is pretty hard to resist, so that was just mean.”

He was speechless, lips parted and eyes wide, like you'd completely titled his world from its axis, like he was seeing you in an entirely new light. Bewildered when you came to a stop outside the large, ornate doors and finally looked at him, your grin glowing as you leaned in close just like he had and whispered.

“If you don't want someone to understand you, maybe choose a person who doesn't have at least one best friend that isn't related to you that also has French lineage.”

Regulus let out a quiet curse at that, glaring briefly at the back of the blonde boy's head who stood in front of him. He barely had the chance to offer a smart retort by the time the doors were swinging open, music spilling out and the sound of chatter, the flurry of dancers twirling across the floor, becoming overwhelming.

Lucius and Narcissa entered first, sweeping in like they had never left, like nothing had changed, and then you were next. Your eyes on his and a playful smile curving at your mouth as you backed into the room, almost daring him to follow after you despite what everyone would say.

He wanted to.

He wanted to march after you and gather you up in his arms again, he wanted to kiss you senseless until you melted against him, all slow heat and unguarded adoration that made you forget you had ever received anything less and actually believed yourself deserving of it.

But he couldn't.

Not now.

Especially not when you saw his hesitation and drifted back to him, close enough that only he could hear you but not enough to draw the attention of those with hungry stares that loved to cause problems for others.

You kept your voice soft, your touch even softer as your fingers lightly grazed his own in a sweet gesture that made any tension he held immediately melt.

And he prayed he didn't look as lovesick as he felt when you told him, “I would have kissed you without feeling any pressure by the way, but thank you, for caring enough not to rush me.”

He was happy to wait.

To be nothing more than a friend, a comfort at your side whilst the aftermath of tonight played itself out and you took the time to process what had happened.

To deal with the fallout that came with two high society families feuding because one of the families’ sons had committed a humiliating slight that would absolutely need to be dealt with.

Whilst you grieved properly and healed the way you needed to, without hurry or expectation, for as long as it took.

An eternity if need be.

And then, if you still wanted him to, Regulus would kiss you.

He'd kiss you until you knew without a shadow of a doubt how deeply you were loved by the boy who knew your heart and cherished it as it was.

[rinxiaa]

Loveit🥹🥹

[rinxiaa]

── .✦ ❝ BETTER THAN HE DOES❞

⟡ You and Reo were enemies. Until he discovered your vulnerable state about someone. But you also discovered something about him.

Warnings: implied fem reader, reader has an ex (not reo!), (name) mention once

The party was booming loudly with laughter and glasses clanking together. And here you were, in a corner holding a glass of wine that you're supposed to drink happily. Until your lover.. at least now, your ex, broke up with you with a paragraph in chat.

The audacity of this man to even break up with you from a text.

You took a big sip from your wine, the barista asking if you were okay. That took you off your phone. And you just said 'yes' hesitantly. This whole thing was getting too much focus from you. You stood up, leaving your drink and decided to cool off your head outside.

You were sitting around in the garden of your home cooling your head, taking a breath. Tears want to come out of your eyes, but they won't. As if you wanna scream all the pain out, describe the pain with words while holding something or someone.

You were just, hazily staring at the distance, thinking about the breakup. You didnt even answer him, you just blocked him already in anger. It makes you wonder why you were with him in the first place. Maybe you were too devoted to him.

Tears were starting to flood in your eyes, until a hand to your shoulder was there.

You slightly flinch, taking your focus off there and look back to the hand that which flinched away to you as well.

"Reo!.."

From the Mikage Corporation. aka also the frienemy-business of your parents. So practically that make you two also enemies! rivals, actually.

"Was walking around the garden, then i saw a girl who got 98.7 on the chemistry test. Thought i might rub my 99.3 on the test." He said emphasizing the last words.

"Ha. Ha. Shouldn't you brag your 99.3 score inside the party?"

"I should ask you the same thing. This is your parents party. And you, the host's daughter is out here." Reo sat down beside you with a puff. Crossing his arms and pouting.

"I just.. needed a time to breath." You hold your cold hands to warm them. It seems like they turned cold when you saw your ex's stupid paragraph.

Reo then looked at you with a slight concern, realizing it was actually a bad time to brag.

"Is something wrong?" Reo asks with a concerned look.

"Why are you asking? Its nothing anyways."

"Nothing. Just concerned. Plus, from the looks of it, it doesn't look nothing. You look tired and in pain like crazy."

You then look at Reo because of words. "Do i really look hurt right now?"

"Well, yeah. Maybe because you are. Do.. you mind telling me why you are?"

You didn't know what happened next. All you were thinking about was your feelings. To you, right now. Only your feelings matter. Cause, damn, you look, sound and feel fucked up right now. All of some boy. Tears flooded your eyes again and this time, you held no hesitation of even hiding your tears nor stopping them. You didn't try to keep quiet as well. If you could, you would, though.

Reo then went closer and lean closer to you, putting a hand on your back and rubbing it while he hands you a handkerchief. You couldn't skip the fact, he was actually kind of acting like a gentleman right now. —Anyway, the handkerchief that Reo handed to you, you used it to cover your mouth and nose. It took you quite awhile to cry all your feelings out. At the same time you were spouting, 'i hate him' or 'where did i go wrong' or 'im so so tired' and much more, and he got more concerned.

Soon, your crying was slowly starting to soften, you trying to wipe your tears as Reo gave you a moment of silence before asking for some context.

Now that you did, Reo thinks it was the perfect time to ask. "May i.. ask? What exactly happened and who is this 'him'?"

You were still slightly choking at your words but you answered Reo easily. "I-.. He's my ex.." you said, sniffling a bit. Reo knew you had a boyfriend. Yet theres still a feeling inside the boy's heart that he was actually was happy. You finally got rid of that sickening view of a man. He did not like him one bit.

"Oh.. What happened?" And again, you didn't know what you we're spouting at this point. Tears flowing down, as you give an explanation to this purple haired gentleman. "His stupid ass is what happened! Not only did he just break up with me through text. He was also cheating on me! A classmate of mine told me, and then when i asked him about it, he said sorry and asked for another chance, so i gave him one and then he broke up with me through text and said he cheated again!" You spoke to him with a fast pace. Gladly, Reo was able to catch up with the words you were spouting.

He was still rubbing your back, and you were still holding the handkerchief he gave you. You wiped your tears again, your makeup then looking all smudgy and messy.

"Whats wrong with me?.. What am i missing?” Iyou ask yourself.

Reo cannot avoid the fact that he liked what you looked right now. What he was viewing is him, holding you and a scenery of your face looking all messy. Lipstick smudged, the mascara under your eyes looking messy. The man then wiped the messy mascara on your eyes so you can have a clear view. You were still having a few hiccups from crying and then, Reo's fingers were a bit stained from your mascara.

"You deserve better." He mentioned, still looking at you, never taking off eye contact.

"People always say that. When i do find someone better, it’s still not enough."

"I want someone who can treat me like i deserve it. Shit- does that sound selfish?.."

Reo laughed at your statement. "Not when you look like this right now."

The purple haired man then cleared his throat. "Y'know.. if you really want someone who can treat you like that. I know a little someone.."

"Well, unless if your not gonna make him a rebound, you know.." Reo said.

You looked at him in disbelief "You think i'd still be so hooked up with that jerk to treat my new boyfriend like a rebound?"

“Tell me about him and tell him i need a bit more time to recover. I don't want him to rush things." You added, with your eyebrows furrying, and creating a few distance away from him.

"You don't need to tell him that." Reo answered and you look at him with a slight confusion.

"Then i don't want him to be my boyfriend if he will rush things." You crossed arms and leaned behind you, laying on the bench you sat on.

"Don't worry, I won't rush things with you." Reo answered.

sniff “That’ll be grea–“ You paused.

You tried to remember his words. I won't rush things? Why would he? Is he gonna force the guy to not rush things with you? No, he wouldn't do that. But.. huh?

The sound of laughter broke you to your thoughts and you slowly went to realization.

He is the little someone.

"What? Wait!- WHAT?" You were in a pool of jumbled words. You didn't know what to say. Reo Mikage?

You've always wondered why girls would want to go dates on him. Wait no, in fact you do know why. They only want the infamous Reo Mikage for his money and luxury. It was all to obvious. But at the same time, he's not really a.. boyfriend material. I mean, all he does, is play football, and be smart, and be kind and sweet, and be thoughtful and be funny and-

Now you see, what those girls see. Except, you see more to him than luxury.

"I like you, (name). Fuck- I think i even adore you because I've been waiting for too long to even say these type of words to you. Your exactly what i want. If anything, i want to be what you also desire."

At this point, your tears we’re already dried up, only a mess of your mascara as you try to process that this man basically confessed. “Is this a joke?”

Stupid.

How can you basically say that? He sounded genuine as if the rivalry that you two have was actually just romantic tension.

“..–No, I want to take this, seriously..” He answers putting a hand on his head as he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry, this is all too sudden, —it’s not that i’m rejecting you but please give me time. I will consider.. this.” Your own head was still trying to make up words on what to answer when you’re still processing his words.

A hand on your hair glided, as he fixes your hair, wipes your tears and kissed your temple. “There won’t be much time to think by the time the night ends. Just make sure your night ends with me.” He was still holding your face gently after he kissed you on your temple.

Although his cheeks had visible pink tint on it, no hint on his eyes we’re the least embarassed. Infact, he was smiling and all-giddy just because he got to hold your face like this and you looking up to him like that.

“Let’s go back inside, i can’t let that jerk ruin your night.” And, —well, let’s just say Mikage Reo is a man of his word.

Haha hi guys.. im back.. and will disappear again……

[saranghoeee]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏⠀❪ SHADOW MILK COOKIE ❫ ──── general headcannons

͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏authors account͏͏͏ ͏͏͏・ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏this took wayyy too long to write, i am so sorry lolz ㅠㅇㅠ anyways, im finally most likely going to get into a much more better schedule for writing — and yes, i know i keep promising and procrastinating but ehm.. im might actually keep it up now!!

⠀❪ SHADOW MILK COOKIE ❫ x gn!!reader͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏・ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏general hcs ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏・ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏523 words 2,886 characters ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏・ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏cw͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏｡｡ none!! ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏・ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏can be read in platonic & romantic ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏・ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏4 @umbrella-show

͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏if you liked this, please reblog & comment!! it means alot 2 me, thx!! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

When it comes to nicknames, shadow milk has around 10-70 name variations of your cookie name. Even if it’s a simple short cookie name, he could turn a four letter name into 15 different nicknames. So for Shadow Milk, taunting you or teasing you or just referring to you in general is by nicknames.

Expect a lot of “games” being played, meaning Shadow Milk black mailing you and forcing you to do a bunch of tasks he’s far too busy to do with a big grin on his face. He’ll casually task you with taking down cookies from the faerie kingdom while sipping on wine.

Shadow Milk most likely rants to you about Elder Faerie and how you’re sooo much better than him (he’s coping by being petty). Sometimes the rants turn into full on lectures and even ted talk lengths of a one-sided conversation. Yes, you’re not allowed to utter a single word unless you’re agreeing with his pettiness and jealousy.

Shadow Milk tends to take control of you and puppeteer you around, meaning when you’re sleeping or just tired in general he’ll take advantage of it. So when you wake up or gain more consciousness, he’ll just say you were dreaming. ( He’s gaslighting you into thinking you really were just dreaming and you didn’t cause chaos to poor kingdoms while under his control. )

Shadow Milk most definitely offers you the chance to match outfits with him, in his opinion you should be grateful for even being offered this opportunity. Because who DOESN’T wish to share a similar fashion sense with him? If you don’t like the color blue or dressing like a jester, you’re going to have to suck it up.

Despite Shadow Milk’s irrational and unpredictable behavior, deep down he genuinely cares for your well being.. if you promise to never EVER leave his side and betray him. He most likely will have you sell your soul or sign some sort of soul jam binding contract with him to ensure you’d keep your promise. Sometimes you’ll catch a small glimpse of his actual caring side ( that’s a 1/1million chance because he’s too busy loving and complimenting himself to care ) pop out.

"Ooh~ (Name) Cookie, seems like you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, huh? Beaten up in battle, what a shame… Ugh, fine—I'll help you out, but JUST THIS ONCE. Don’t go thinking I’m gonna get all sappy or anything. I’m not that kind of performer. Maybe next time, try not to get yourself in this mess, so I don’t have to save you again, hm, (Name) Cookie?" Shadow Milk announced as he quickly appeared behind you and healed your wounds as quick as he agreed to help.

Oh, and yes, Shadow Milk does make you refer to him by his whole title. You will refer to him as the world’s favorite entertainer. And in return he calls you his.. harlequin servant. Shadow Milk calls you his servant to feed his ego and remind you that although he doesn’t exactly have a body he’s in control and above. So remember that and you’ll survive him!!

©dollyrin, pls do not copy translate & post onto other platforms,, it’s not cute!!

[rinxiaa]

Cutie AAAAHHHH

[rinxiaa]

Guys.. my TBHK HYPERFIXATION IS COMING BACK STOPPP (learning s2 will be coming had an impact on me) Andddd my teru minamoto love-hate relationship is also back so expect me to prioritize this🥰

[rinxiaa]

── .✦ small step, big step !

Sypnosis; bllk guys with a ballerina lover. <3

Multicharacter drabble: rin, isagi, bachira, nagi, reo

RIN ITOSHI

He does not believe it. How come he's only hearing this now? The fact you do ballet? And the fact there wasn't even a single clue. The first (not really) clue was when you shared a post on your profile of your ballet performance last week. And he.. well— stared at it for good about five seconds, till he scrolled through the pictures, comments and even the profile of who posted it. And by now its obvious that you have been doing ballet for a long time.

He mentioned about it when he was helping you make dinner at your apartment. "Hey.. so.. do you.. do ballet?" He questions shyly. Somehow. "Oh yea, yea! Have been for a really long time!" And he just stared at you for a secon till an automatic reply came out his mouth. "How come i did not know about this?" "Well you were busy with soccer, and i was busy supporting you with soccer so..!" You said, while shrugging and cooking fried rice. "Well you can be busy with ballet and i also can be busy supporting you with ballet, right?" He said, while looking at you. "You sure? You're quite devoted with your soccer career y'know." You replied while looking at him for a second. "But I'm devoted to you as well." Rin's automatic reply came out of his mouth once more. "..Alright. You're invited to my next performance then, so you can see how pro i am." You say with a smirk. And rin just deadpan at you.

ISAGI YOICHI

He adores how precious you look. Unlike Rin, he already knew, and its actually how he met you for the first time! It was from social media when he was scrolling, and found a video of your performance and he realized it was you! His classmate! and ever since that, he promised to you and himself, he will keep a streak with your performances.

Practice done, ate lunch done, dolled up (of course) done, and running to the stadium of your next performance. Before entering though, he fixed his hair, fixed his clothes, perfume, mirror and you know the gig. And then he entered and took a seat. He can't believe how gentle you dance at the floor with good balance. It so smooth and calming to watch. Sometimes, whenever watching you, he compares it to how he plays in his own sport. After your performance, you told him to go backstage, after you change. When you did he congratulated you and showered you with compliments. "Hi baby! Great performance today, as usual. And as usual, here, flowers." Throwing you bouquet at your arms, and you smiled at him while pointing at a bench full of flowers and gifts and he already knew where it came from. "It's fine. Yours is the most special, don't worry." Yehey! Isagi reacted.

MEGURU BACHIRA

Wow, this is just beauty and the beast at this point. You, a total beauty. Gently dancing, twirling, and taking small steps! And well! He's there with his own beast, roughly playing, dribbling and running big steps. Yet, with the polar opposite trope. You two still manage to fascinate each other and neither do you wanna stop. But this time, your not lovers yet. But you two definitely look like it.

There was a school ballet performance once again in your school and you were very excited and you were also invited. Hooray! But you're not the only one happy that you're gonna dance. When Bachira heard the news, he was smiling from ear to ear, cheeks with a pink tint, and he can already imagine your performance. Except, its obvious that its his imagination, with the way you look in his imagination. At your performance, when its about to start, you saw that bee-colored hair guy watching you and you tried your best to resist your smile and he waved very excitingly at you. And i mean very. And you waved back. After the performance, and a very tired body, leaving the school, you saw Bachira again and you couldn't control your smile again. As if your body was actually not tired. When Bachira saw you, he ran to you and hugged you while congratulating you. "Your dance was majestic as always! You should dance more! I like how you dance. Its very.. pretty." He said with a gentle smile this time while his hands were on your shoulders. "Definitely will for you." you said with a smile, ear to ear.

NAGI SEISHIRO

Just like Rin, he only found out recently yet already supported you! But yet, its so weird how you're so devoted in this sport. You make sure everything is perfect, smooth and clean. Days before your performances when he wakes up, he sees you doing stretches, yoga, practicing and more. Like, why do you need everything to be perfect, you doing a twirl was already perfect for him? 10000000 points, man!

"Babyyyy its, 6 in the morning, why are you doing pie–lates, early in the morning?" Nagi asked while peaking out from the door as he is in your bedroom. "Only 2 weeks till my next performance, sei. And, dear... Its PI–lates. How do you get high scores in your school?" You say while switching to another position. "The power of Choki of course. Its all by luck." "Yyyaaaa..! Luck..." you say while rolling your eyes. "Enough about these grades. Just go back to bed." He said while getting of the room to pick you up until you spoke. "If you move me from my position, i swear to god—" "Alrighty madam, please dont tie me up in backstage again until your performance is done. You know i hate waiting..." "I DON'T TIE YOU UP? I just push you in the couch and you yourself is the one who doesn't want to stand up!" You barked back. "Potato, tomato. Same thing."

REO MIKAGE

At this point, he is your manager. Makes sure your prepared and good to go on stage! Either way it will be more than worth it since he gets to watch you dance and the fact he's the one who dolls you up, picking your dress, fixing your hair and makeup, and the world sees it. If one is to watch your performance besides this man, they will see him with hearts in his eyes glowing, with a cheeky smile, and blush on his cheeks.

Your next performance is next week. You couldve prepared in the weekends but no... This man needs you to prepare your ballet dress for the whole month! "Let's get this one! Oh this one too! Now lets go buy shoes!" He said like a lightbulb lit up on top of his head. In instinct, he pulls you and the cart to the cashier to pay. Theres at least 3 ballet dresses. So i gues thats okay.. "Next month, we go shopping again, okay?" Nevermind, not okay. "Reo, i dont need all of these, i dont even have space in my apartment for all of these!" "Then i will keep them in stock in my penthouse. Plus you will stay there right?" You were unsure because a part of you was really.. scare of his parents so you just nod gently. "A-are you sure this is okay? Won't your parents cook me ALIVE?" You said while this rich man, grabs the shopping bags for you. Leaving outside. "It's fine~! My parents won't even notice this, dearest! And i bet they'll want to after they see your performance!" THEY? "W-what do you mean see my performance?! I can't even buy them tickets!" "Dont worry, darling, I did! Soo, shoes next?"

Taglist: @koieroeroero

TYSM FOR WAITING SO SO SORRY I MADE YOU WAIT FOR A LONG TIME.. (prioritized my school😓) made sure each part was realistic at least cuz idk ballet much😞

[rinxiaa]

Ghosting this acc soon for a while bc of school.. sorry for that ballerina requester too..💔 I WILL JS FINISH SOME STUFF UP GUYS TRUST

[rinxiaa]

HI POOKIE!! bllk guys x ballerina reader ?? I do ballet and thought it wld be soo cute bc ballet is also a sport!! i think the contrast is s ocute. like the guys r all aggressive and rough or wtv n the ballet reader is just like grace flowers pink n sparkles HELP <3 LOVE UR WRITING SOOOO MUCH

Will do!! THATS SO CUTECBTW😭😭