EVERYTHING FADES TO BLUE, EVEN THE IDEA OF A SAINT
⊹★⋆ WHERE’S THE MASTERLIST ?! ₊˚⊹ haikyuu!! // jujutsu kaisen // love & deepspace // final fantasy vii
⊹★⋆ WHAT’S NEW ?! ₊˚⊹ sincerely yours S02:E14 (gojou satoru) 18+ // the colonel’s saint 18+ (l&ds caleb) // the loved & the lost 18+ (l&ds sylus) // titanic 18+ (l&ds rafayel) // the terminator’s curse 18+ (l&ds caleb) // reverence 18+ (l&ds sylus)
⊹★⋆ WHAT’S POPULAR ?! ₊˚⊹ sincerely not (gojou satoru) 18+ // wastelands (suna rintarou) 18+ // the sin and the sinner (l&ds sylus) 18+ // blank canvas (ryomen sukuna) 18+
“And why,” the therapist asked gently, “do you keep finding your way back to him?”
You stared at the fern in the corner, at the tired leaves curling inward like fists. You thought of all the doors you had closed, only to stand before them again with your knuckles raised.
Because love like that doesn’t end cleanly—it lingers. In the quiet. In the almosts.
“Because when it’s good,” you said, softly, “it’s really good.”
Her curious eyes glossed over your features. “And when it’s bad?”
Only faintly did you smile. “I remember how good it can be.”
i’ve been meaning to return to writing on tumblr this week, had my schedule prepared so i know which days to write and which day to post and engage again — but seeing what’s happening to my blog right now, i thought otherwise.
to report my blog’s navigation/masterlist (something i had for years and contains the links to all my works) and get it flagged is literally so vile, i can only think of one reason why some twisted individual would even do this.
i haven’t posted in months yes. you want the sy final chapter? valid. i badly want to finish it, too.
but i am also a human outside of this freaking blog. a person who has to go through different life experiences that may hinder me from even opening a blog, let alone write, especially when i haven’t done it in months.
i get constant pressure to finish the series, which i’d have gladly done, if not for the health issues i’ve had to deal with (and will deal with for the rest of my life). i didn’t choose to be ill, but i chose to take care of my health, to protect my peace, and to focus on living my life outside of my laptop screen.
this is why writers would rather deactivate and disappear completely, because we barely get treated like humans by the same community that we write for.
not that this is anything new, but also, it is absolutely tiring.
thank you for the many others who remain supportive and respectful. you are the reason i even want to continue writing and engaging through this blog. you inspire me to keep in touch with my creative side, and always remind me that i have people who genuinely love what i write.
for the rest, please take time to reflect and realize that kindness doesn’t cost a thing. understand that, just like you, writers also have a life outside of this platform, and they may be fighting to live theirs.
Blind Item Scoop: Top CEO’s ex-wife possibly pregnant again… with HIS child?!
~
According to insiders, a certain CEO known for his playboy image and messy love life may soon become a father again.
A woman matching the description of his ex-wife was reportedly seen leaving a private obstetrics clinic in Shibuya earlier this week. Witnesses claim the two arrived separately but left together in the same car.
The former couple, once considered the “it pair” of Japan’s corporate elite, divorced last year following rumors of his infidelity. His recent involvement with her close friend also reignited rumors about their messy affair. Despite that, the two have reportedly been spotted together multiple times over the past few months, particularly her late-night visits at his penthouse.
Her family, a long-standing household in the finance industry, allegedly did not want to do anything with the ex-husband and cut ties to their heiress after she returned to him.
Neither party has confirmed the pregnancy, but sources close to the CEO’s company claim “there’s been a lot of secrecy lately” and that “his schedule is being cleared for personal reasons.”
Could love really be making a comeback for this scandal-ridden couple, or is it just another PR storm waiting to explode?
~
[COMMENTS]
1. [+987, -42]
We all know this is G*** S***** and his ex-wife 💀 who else fits that description??
2. [+883, -56]
Can’t believe she went back to him… girl, after he slept with your best friend?? i’d rather eat glass 😭
3. [+672, -89]
i think it’s love tbh. like toxic, soul-destroying love, but still love.
4. [+534, -120]
WAIT. she’s back with him??? after everything he did?? girl, the self-respect is on sabbatical.
5. [+401, -23]
He’s lucky she’s softhearted. Any other woman would’ve buried him alive by now.
6. [+366, -9]
Not her family disowning her over this… all this for a man with white hair and trauma
7. [+355, -112]
Lmao if it’s true, that baby’s already born into drama. hope it inherits her sanity, not his ego.
8. [+301, -8]
i can’t even be mad. their chemistry was crazy. every time they were seen together, you could feel the tension.
9. [+280, -77]
his PR team probably passed out reading this.
10. [+214, -5]
if this is who i think it is, that baby’s about to be prettier than 90% of us combined 😭
11. [+190, -15]
funny how people hate her for going back when none of us know what it’s like loving someone like that. it’s toxic but real. we don’t know these people to be judging them.
12. [+166, -33]
y’all forget she’s always been soft for him. he snaps his fingers, and she folds.
13. [+152, -4]
Their life is literally a K-drama at this point.
14. [+99, -2]
not trying to start anything but… i work at the hospital where their kid got admitted last month. they weren’t acting like exes at all. he was there the whole time and you could tell they still cared about each other. like, a lot. everyone on the ward was talking about it for days. we all thought they were back together already lol.
15. [+88, -6]
hope she’s okay tho. internet’s about to eat her alive once this becomes official.
when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.
genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+
tags/warnings. explicit smut, violence, jealousy, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of cheating
notes. 7.6k wc. don't have much to say for now :'D i'll pour it all out on the last chapter. thank you for waiting on this one!
series masterlist -> episode fifteen (finale)
There were days, you realized, that were more forgiving than the others. At least you could say that in your world. You were so used to enduring the worst that life could throw at you—drained by endless tears, heartbreak, and disappointment. Yet, every so often, there came days when life granted you a brief reprieve from the pain. Perhaps it was to prepare you for another storm. Or perhaps it was a sign that your heart might finally find peace.
You hoped it was the latter. Because today seemed to be a better day, as the morning light broke across the whitewashed walls of the hospital as if to signal a new beginning. The rain had finally stopped, taking with it the gloom it had cast over the city for the past week.
After days of anxiety and sterile air thick with disinfectant, the world finally seemed to exhale with you. The doctor said Sachiro was well enough to be discharged. The IV lines were gone, the heart monitor silenced, and the medical tubes pulled out, leaving only small tapes and faint bruises on your son’s soft skin. He looked smaller somehow, fragile in a way that made your chest ache, though his smile was bright and unburdened like nothing had happened at all. What a strong boy, you thought in tearful silence. Feeling bad for your son, but also proud of his resilience as a mere 3-year old boy.
“Doctor, I can’t thank you enough,” you said in utmost gratitude to the person who saved your son’s life, “From fixing my heart, and now, Sachiro’s…”
“There’s no need to thank me, Y/N. This is my job,” he replied, smiling, “Besides, your father and I go way back. I know he’d have given me a hard time if I didn't handle yours and Sachi’s cases successfully.”
Your dad joined in with a chuckle. “I’m glad you know.”
While you and your father continued to speak to the doctor about medications, aftercare, follow-up tests, Sachiro sat cross-legged on the bed beside Satoru, eyes wide with child-like determination while in a conversation with his daddy. You caught the gazes they exchanged and didn’t miss the chance to eavesdrop, listening in on them while speaking with the doctor.
“Dada,” he said, with that little boy stubbornness he inherited from his father. “Let’s go home to your house.”
The words made you pause. Even your father did, too. Your dad’s brows even furrowed immediately as concern knitted across his lined face. “Sachiro,” he said gently, speaking as if Satoru wasn’t in the same room. “Grandpa's house is better for you. It’s quieter. You should rest.”
But Sachiro only shook his head, his little fists balled on his lap. “But Sachi want Dada’s house! I like it there.”
Satoru didn’t look at you when his son said it. As though he knew his son’s request was a landmine waiting to be stepped on, which was also why he didn’t interfere. Not one word from Satoru convincing anyone of anything. He simply stayed silent, allowing the decision to be yours and yours alone, even if he was the paternal figure to your broken family. Still, you didn’t miss the sadness that shone on your ex-husband’s eyes. Sachiro choosing to stay with his father seemed to have touched his heart in ways a normally disregarded parent would.
“I’ll come with Sachi.” You stood there, a folder of discharge papers pressed against your chest, suffocating from the weight of your father’s gaze on you before he even spoke.
“Y/N,” your father began, carefully, like he was afraid the wrong tone might make you snap. “It’s not… proper. You staying in another man’s house like that? You’re unmarried.”
His words bit into you sharper than they should have.
Unmarried.
As if the ring once on your finger, the vows you had spoken before God and family, the home you once shared with Satoru Gojou had never existed at all. As if the boy sitting there—your son, with his father’s blue eyes and his mother’s gentle mien—had been born without history, without consequence, without love that once ran so deep it drowned you both.
Your father’s voice then softened, cautious but only because he must have realized his poor choice of words. “People will talk, Y/N. They always do. I don’t want you to go through this again and have Ian clear up your name every time.”
And maybe he was right. Maybe the whole country would, yet again, feast on this rumor like wolves on a carcass—how the divorcee ran back into her ex-husband’s house the moment she had her chance again. How she stayed there with him, nights under the same roof, like his shameless paramour.
But they wouldn’t see the truth, would they?
They wouldn’t see the nights Satoru never left the hospital, slumped over Sachiro’s bed in the same wrinkled clothes, red-rimmed eyes refusing to close even when exhaustion carved shadows into his face. They wouldn’t see the way his hands shook when Sachiro cried in pain, the way his voice cracked when he told him it would be okay.
They wouldn’t see that this wasn’t about romance, or reputation, or whatever fantasy the world wanted to paint over it.
This was about a boy who wanted both his parents in one place because the machines that beeped by his bedside had reminded him—too early, too cruelly—that life could take them away.
Your father sighed beside you. “It isn’t right,” he murmured again, his hand squeezing your shoulder. “You're smart, Y/N. Don't make foolish decisions.”
“Dad, I…” Satoru suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with nervousness, so much so that he didn’t realize he slipped and called your father ‘dad’. “I’ll take good care of them. I’ll be by Sachi’s side until he recovers and I’ll help Y/N with everything she needs. I promise they’ll be—”
“Y/N, we should discuss this outside.” Your father callously ignored Satoru like he wasn’t there. And you watched how he was visibly hurt by the way he was treated by your dad. He didn’t deserve it, no matter how much pain you had suffered because of him, he was still human.
But Satoru wasn’t just any man.
He was your ex-husband.
Your son’s father.
The man who had once memorized every inch of your body like scripture and now hovered silently in the background, tucking Sachiro’s jacket into his overnight bag with hands too careful for someone so outwardly indifferent. He didn’t even try to join the discussion anymore. He gave up with his one attempt and respectfully just let you decide, like your word alone could shift the earth beneath his feet.
And maybe it could.
Because you saw the truth in the little things: how he was genuine about taking care of you and Sachiro, how he was hopeful to be given a chance at letting you stay in his home. He must have seen it as the perfect opportunity to make up with you, especially now that you still had many things to clear up and problems to resolve.
You exhaled slowly. “It’s just for a few days,” you said to your dad, your voice quieter than you expected as you stood by the door. “Until Sachi’s better. My decision is final.”
Your father looked at you like he wanted to argue, but the words never came. Because there was nothing improper about a boy wanting both his parents near. And there was nothing sinful about a mother wanting the same.
––
The days that followed blurred into something almost dreamlike.
Because Satoru Gojou, for all the chaos he carried in his bones, was steady now.
He didn’t outwardly show his joy per se, but the bliss he felt inside glistened like stars in his eyes. He seemed happy, very much so, now that his family was living together with him as if everything had finally settled into perfect harmony.
Satoru rose before you every morning, padding around his penthouse in quiet socks as he prepared Sachiro’s breakfast and made sure you had something warm to eat, too. You could tell he was very specific about what he cooked, choosing healthy ingredients catered to a recovering child and a pregnant lady. He even refilled the humidifier in your room, worried that the air was too dry and could trigger your allergies. He moved through the house with careful treading as this—the son curled up on the couch watching cartoons, you walking slowly through the hallway with one hand instinctively resting on your belly—was something he might wake from if he breathed too loudly.
And he never once touched you without permission. Not once, which was unusual of the Satoru Gojou you knew.
Every time his hand brushed yours when he offered you tea, every time he tugged the blanket higher over your shoulders while you napped on the couch, every time he looked at you like you were something worshipful—he waited. He waited and let you feel his devotion without demanding anything in return.
Maybe that was what softened you.
Because you had told him you needed time. That he couldn’t just slide back into your life like nothing had happened, like there weren’t years of pain and mistakes between you.
But he made time feel weightless.
He made it so easy to forget the ache in your chest when he kissed Sachiro’s hair before bed, when he wordlessly washed the dishes after dinner, when he crouched down to tie your shoes one morning because you had bent down too quickly and he scolded you for it under his breath.
Was he only this sweet because you were carrying another piece of him inside you? You sighed, wondering why you still doubted his love even after the confession you both made that night by the lake. But you just couldn’t help but think deeply sometimes, and maybe stare at the view of the city while thinking of thoughts that should never consume you. Thoughts of whether he would have been this sweet and devoted if it was Akemi carrying his child. Was it cruelty that made you imagine Akemi pregnant with his child just to feed your jealousy, even after she told you she was dying? Or was it spite that kept you from feeling even a flicker of pity when she said Satoru left her like she was nothing? Perhaps you even took pleasure in knowing that after all her desperate wishing to have a baby with him, you were the one he had gotten pregnant, without even trying, for the second time around.
You were never an angel to begin with, especially not after everyone around you had been brutal and malicious. She didn't deserve to suffer that much, obviously. But life was simply never fair, and she wasn’t exempt from it.
The funny thing was, Satoru wasn’t even aware of the spiteful thoughts that plagued you during those silent afternoons. He had no idea how you would manage to work yourself into a fury over imagined scenes of him and Akemi in this very penthouse—repulsed by the visions your own mind conjured. Maybe you were being petty. Maybe it was just the hormones. But every time Satoru walked by, oblivious and unbothered, you were simmering hotter than before.
But maybe he sensed it in the way you protectively held your stomach sometimes when you thought no one was looking. Perhaps he noticed how your replies had shrunk to single words, or how you would send him an accusatory glare when he was merely trying to start a conversation. Maybe he felt it, too, in the way you looked at him—as if this man, this flawed, beautiful man, was somehow your greatest enemy.
Damn it. Perhaps it was time to admit it—was it truly jealousy burning through you, or was it the ache of being untouched by the man who supposedly was in love with you?
The room was quiet, and you sat at the edge of the bed in your nightgown, watching Satoru’s long frame as he got out of the shower, only a towel covering his lower half. His head tilted down like he didn’t dare meet your eyes too long. He looked almost anxious, though he would never admit it.
And he had been so careful with you. Too careful that it bothered you.
“Is Sachi asleep?” He cleared his throat once and tried to strike a conversation. But you didn’t answer. You ignored his pitiful attempt at talking to you, busying yourself by putting lotion on your legs. It felt humorous to have the upperhand now, with him clearly on edge, and you acting like you didn’t owe him any interaction. “...Y/N, did I do something wrong?”
You didn’t return his gaze. Instead, you closed the lid of the lotion and placed it carefully atop the nightstand. “No.”
Next thing you knew, the man was already standing in front of you, his damp white hair dripping down his toned body as he crouched down to meet your eyes. “You’ve been angry with me for three days now. Please tell me what I’m not doing right, I’ll fix it.”
“Leave me alone,” you muttered, still avoiding his gaze while opening the drawer, only to see an unopened box of condoms. They weren’t meant for you, clearly. He had probably saved it for when Akemi used to visit. And he knew that was exactly what you were thinking the moment he saw the box, too.
“That’s not…” He tried to explain, but what was the point? You knew they were sexually involved before her illness had worsened. Satoru could only sigh under his breath, the sound closer to defeat than frustration, then placed his hands on your knees with bright blue eyes that begged for your understanding. “I’ll throw it away.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You clearly knew what a condom is,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut. “Should’ve used it on me that night at the cabin.”
For a moment, he was caught off guard by your remark, but then he shook his head and let out a soft chuckle like something had just clicked in his mind, something that made all this absurdly amusing.
“What?” you asked, irritation sharpening your tone.
Satoru reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before lightly pinching your cheek. “Nothing,” he murmured, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You acted like this when you were pregnant with Sachi, too.”
“What are you talking about?” You slapped his hand away, scowling.
He only laughed quietly, moving closer until his warmth pressed against your side. One arm slipped around your waist, the other covering your hand. “You were always irritated with me back then,” he said, voice gentle, teasing. “And jealous. A lot.” He nuzzled your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. “Are we having a boy again?”
You hated it. The way your chest tightened, that stupid rush in your heartbeat. It only ever happened because of Satoru. You couldn’t even remember the last time your heart fluttered wildly like this, but somehow the memory was still there, vivid enough to shatter every wall you had put up.
“Why do you keep your distance?” you finally asked, your eyes meeting his ocean blues. “Why ask me to sleep in the same room as you when it would be more proper to sleep apart?”
He wasn’t oblivious—he had to know what you were implying, how your words really pointed to his reluctance, his lack of intimacy, and the insecurity you were feeling because of it.
“We just got out of the hospital,” he explained, almost cautious. “And you’re pregnant. I wanted to look after you but still respect your space. I thought… maybe you needed time.”
But you had laughed, incredulous, pulse fluttering. “Time?”
And that was all it took. Because then his arms dropped to his sides. His shoulders straightened. His blue eyes darkened, and you knew—you knew—that thin rope of restraint was about to snap.
“You think it’s easy for me?” His voice was strained, like a puppy being deprived of treats. “Every night I lie next to you, and all I can think about is you. Touching you. Tasting you. Being inside you. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Your breath caught, heart hammering by his confession. “But you—”
“And how you wearing this thin nightgown,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, “does unspeakable things to me.”
Literally so. Because you didn’t need to look down to see the bulge growing under his towel. You didn’t need to search his face to find the lust brewing behind his eyes. And somehow, his reaction excited you. His visible restraint woke all the desire you had been craving to satiate.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Satoru’s voice dropped low as he caught your chin between his fingers. “There’s a reason you end up pregnant every time I touch you.” His eyes lingered on your mouth, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Let me remind you why.”
It was him who crossed the line first. Him who kissed you, loud and passionate, pulling you tighter by the waist as if he might burn alive if he didn’t. He groaned into your mouth with a raw, guttural sound that went straight through you, hands gripping your hips like he was finally done pretending he didn’t want this. When he lifted you—effortless, like you weighed nothing—and made you straddle him, his mouth never left yours. Not once. His kiss was everywhere: down your throat, across your collarbone, all over your chest, tracing fire over your skin.
And when his fingers tugged the strap of your nightgown, you realized just how long he had been holding himself back.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your neck.
You grabbed a fistful of his white hair. “Don’t you dare.”
That was all he needed.
He had ripped your nightgown easily, though careless, and elicited a shriek from you. That was the last thing you thought he would do, but Satoru was getting rougher by the second, clearly because of your provocation. He was acting like an animal released from being in a cage for too long. He was hungry. Very hungry. And putting his mouth on your bosom was his first favorite treat.
You leaned against him as he circled his tongue along your nipple—teasing, suckling, and a little bit of biting. “H-Hey!”
“Sorry.” He displayed a smug smile before proceeding to suck your other tit. “Got carried away.”
While his mouth was on your breast, his hand was kneading the other. He massaged the slope with both a gentle yet rabid touch, flicking the nipple, and then back to squeezing your tit as if he was touching it for the first time. It was at that point where you couldn’t suppress your moans anymore. You shamelessly melted into his touch, driven half-mad by the days of unspoken want that had finally come undone.
And in your own sensual frenzy, your hand reached down to just where his bulge was. It was hard, begging to be released, and twitching underneath the towel. He moaned from your slightest touch. Then, got too excited when you started rubbing him, he almost couldn’t breathe.
“Y/N…” He pulled away, only to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re driving me insane.”
“Did I tell you to stop?” you asked, almost sternly, which only excited him even more.
His smirk was that of a man who had won the jackpot. How arrogant! And so, he continued kissing your breasts, one after the other, and especially enjoyed when his face was between them. He didn’t have time to do all this back at the cabin, since that moment was unexpected and it was your first time reuniting in bed after many years. But you remembered Satoru loving your pair, giving them equal attention and leaving every inch of skin with marks that belonged to him.
Did he love doing this to Akemi, too? Did he kiss her body like this? Left marks all over her skin like this?
Out of sheer frustration, you pushed Satoru back. His eyes went wide, startled, as if to ask what was wrong, but your glare silenced him. You stepped between his legs and yanked at the towel around his hips. There, his hard member stood, pulsating and dripping at the tip. Your finger traced the veins on his throbbing cock, making it angrier than it already was.
“Y/N, please…” His face begged you to do more.
And it sure was entertaining to see him like this after a long time. Back when you two were married, you did it everyday like animals in heat. You were so smitten, so passionate, so intoxicated with your toxicity that every push-pull ended in the most satisfying, most mind-blowing sex.
You were on your knees as he looked at you, his entire length being stroked by your hand, before you placed your tongue flat on his tip. Satoru cursed under his breath and threw his head back, but you continued to roll your tongue along the head—the pink and swollen head—then finally started wrapping your lips around his girth.
Even with Toji, you never enjoyed giving head the way you did with Satoru. Perhaps it was the connection, or perhaps, it was simply because you prefer doing it to someone you really loved.
“Fuck,” your ex-husband growled, seeing your head bobbing up and down as you sucked every inch of him. “That feels so fucking good.”
You even kissed the sides, the ridges, then put him back completely in your mouth. This time around, you forced it all the way down your throat, resisting the gag reflex but still ended up choking on his cock. Goddamn were you horny. You knew this was the pregnancy hormones, but you wanted more and you couldn’t be stopped.
“Y/N.” He sat up as you jerked his member, his entire length coated by your saliva, while he started pulling you up. You stood before him as he was face level with your tummy, and his hands began tracing your legs, your hips, until he was able to playfully squeeze your bum. Satoru looked up at you, then. With eyes that screamed of bliss, his chin resting on your belly where your baby would be in. His breath ragged as he looked at you. All of you. His hands traced your curves, lingering over your belly as though it was sacred, before he kissed lower, lower, worshipping you with his mouth until you were trembling, arching, gasping his name like a prayer. “Can I…?”
Nodding, you could feel him give your buttocks a final squeeze before he started lifting your leg over his shoulder. The other stayed on the floor, which gave him the best access to see your pussy. And of course, he didn’t waste any second before he dove in.
“Satoru—”
His lips were on your clit in a snap, tongue lapping between your folds—slurpling, suckling, and tasting your slick inside. The deeper he was, the weaker your legs felt. But his strong arms held you in place, fingers digging into your thighs as though he could hold you here forever. Although one hand switched places with his mouth every now and then—one moment his hand would palm your pussy, the next his mouth would be kissing your entrance, his tongue swirling in it and around it.
“God, you taste so good,” he groaned, two fingers now stretching your core and entering you in and out, “Been dreaming about this… about you… every damn night.”
“Mhmm—”
He sure took his sweet time with the foreplay that by the time he made you lay in bed, you were already catching your breath. Your legs were already shaking, and your head was already dizzy. But it was not enough, no. Not for the both of you. You wanted him inside just as he wanted to be inside you.
So by the time he finally had you in a perfect, comfortable position, he spread your legs apart and placed his tip at your entrance. His lengthy cock teased, circled, and then rubbed against your clit. Again and again. Purposefully so, because he chuckled at the way you glared at him impatiently.
“Hnng—! Just put it inside.”
He did it slowly when he slid into you, careful but deep. You swore you felt the world tilt off its axis. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath uneven, like he was trying to keep it together even now. You could see his girth coated with slick, with every entrance to your pussy making you clench around him tighter.
“Mm—fuck!”
“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, hips snapping harder now, and faster, too. Each thrust shaking through you until your words broke into gasps. “All I want… all I ever want… is you.”
You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled sharp and hot in your belly. He kissed you through it, swallowed your cries, held you so close it felt like he might break you apart just to keep you. His bed was steady enough not to make any noises through the walls, but it was your moans that echoed loud enough across the room. The squelching, the whimpering, the snapping of skin-to-skin.
“Satoru, I’m gonna…”
He held your hips in place, slamming himself balls deep into you, and watching your breasts bouncing all over the place as he raced to chase his climax. “Me, too, baby.”
Both of you were tangled in sweat, and the sound of your own ragged breathing filled the room until he released thick ropes of cum inside you. You couldn’t tell how much, but he stayed inside you for a minute or two, giving your lips a sweet peck before he finally pulled out. Almost immediately, his cum came spilling out of you. They dripped out of your hole as if they were too full and no longer had space inside.
It was filthy and tender all at once—love and obsession and devotion and ruin. And you remembered his words earlier, how this was why he could get you pregnant so easily. Funnily enough, it wasn’t just about how much of his semen was inside you. Not literally. It was the love and passion he was pouring into your lovemaking. It was how your body would always recognize his, as though you two were perfectly made for each other.
When it was over, he scooped you into his arms, wrapped tight like he couldn’t bear to let you go. He kissed your temple softly, reverently this time.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, “how much I love you, Y/N. Through anything and everything. You’re my only one.”
––
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the living room curtains, warm and golden, catching in the strands of Satoru’s hair as he sat cross-legged on the floor with Sachiro perched in his lap. You sat beside them on the couch, one hand idly resting on your belly, watching the way Satoru absentmindedly fixed the cowlick in Sachi’s hair while the boy leaned against him, still groggy from his sleep.
It felt domestic in a way you hadn’t felt in years. Too peaceful. Too comfortable. Like the war between your hearts had quieted for this one stolen moment.
“Good morning, Mama!” your little boy greeted.
“Morning, my baby.” You added it with a kiss to his forehead. “Did daddy make you breakfast?”
Sachiro hugged his teddy bear as his eyes fixed on the television screen. “Yes, Mama. Sachi ate pancakes!”
Satoru gave you a quiet look then. It wasn’t anything naughty. In fact, he had a very thoughtful gaze, seemingly worried that he might have gotten too rough with you last night. “I’ve prepared you a plate there and some apple juice.”
“Thank you,” was your simple reply. No morning kisses, no overly sweet gestures. Your son still wasn’t aware that his parents were expecting again, so you were treading the situation carefully. It also helped that Satoru could read through your movements and respected you enough to handle it at your own pace.
“Hey, Sachi,” you began softly.
He turned to you, wide-eyed, curious. “Yeah, Mama?”
You swallowed, glancing once at Satoru before you said it. “You’re… going to be a big brother soon.”
For a moment, there was silence.
And then—
“Huh?!” Sachiro twisted in Satoru’s lap so fast the man almost lost his balance. “A baby? Like… a real baby? In your tummy? Right now?!”
You nodded, lips twitching and unsure what to make of your son’s reaction. “Yes, right now. Mama is pregnant.”
His jaw dropped like you had told him the moon was moving into the guest room. “But… but… how did it happen?” He blinked rapidly, the picture of childlike innocence, before his little nose wrinkled. “Wait… don’t tell me. I think I know.”
“Oh, do you now?” Satoru acted surprised, poking his son’s cheek. You smothered a laugh into your palm. He didn’t even bother hiding his.
“Yeah,” your son said confidently, looking between the two of you with all the gravity of a seasoned detective. “It’s because you and Mama love each other again, right? That’s how it works! Auntie Gen told Sachi babies are born when the mama and dada love each other.”
You froze for half a second. Love? You quickly forced a smile. “Something like that.”
But then Sachiro tilted his head again, eyes darting between you and Satoru like he was connecting even bigger dots. “Is Dada going to be Mama’s husband?”
The words fell into the room like pebbles into still water. Quickly enough, your body went still and Satoru’s hand froze midair on his son’s back. The boy looked between you both expectantly, as if marriage was the obvious next step, as if it was the only logical conclusion to his parents having another baby on the way.
You opened your mouth, then closed it, then forced a small, gentle smile. Sometimes, Sachiro was a little too smart for his age. “That… is for another conversation, my sweetie.”
Satoru stared at you for a good minute, careful not to cross any boundaries and give answers unaligned to your own. But you could tell how much he had wanted to say yes to Sachiro, to say that his dream of bringing his family back together was no longer far-fetched.
Meanwhile, Sachiro squinted like he wanted to protest, but then his face lit up, wide and beaming, his entire little body vibrating with joy as he threw his arms around Satoru’s neck. “I’m gonna be a big brother!” he announced, muffled against Satoru’s shoulder. “Dada, we need to buy a big house like grandpa’s now!”
Satoru chuckled then. “Of course, buddy.”
And for that moment, with Sachiro grinning like Christmas had come early, you let yourself believe in this fragile, imperfect little happiness. But still, there were many things to worry about. When your son mentioned his grandfather, you were immediately reminded of the things you still need to clear out before you can fully live in this dream-like fantasy.
It didn’t surprise you how soon Satoru joined you in the kitchen the moment his son had become too engrossed in the cartoon he was watching. He knew there were things he had to clarify, so approaching you for a private talk was the next thing he did.
“You told him,” mentioned Satoru, reaching for your hand. “Does this mean you’ll keep our baby?”
You solemnly looked into his eyes. “It’s ours.”
His warm lips pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “Thank you for letting me be a father to them, Y/N. I promise I’ll live my whole life serving you and our kids.”
Sighing, you squeezed his hand. “But Satoru, we still have to tell them.”
He looked up, confused. “Tell who what?”
You hesitated, lips pressing together before you exhaled slowly. “I mean, my family. My dad, Gen—them.” The words felt strange on your tongue, even though they were your family, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “They’re not going to take it well, Satoru,” you warned softly. “After everything, they’ll think I’m out of my mind.”
He didn’t flinch. Not at all. He simply wrapped his arms around you, his gaze softening in a way it only did for you. “You’re right,” he agreed wholeheartedly. “They need to hear it from us first before anyone else. I know they won’t accept it right away, but I’ll fight for you. I promise I’ll do everything until I earn their trust again. Maybe not fully, but even a scrap is enough. Even just trusting that I won’t ever hurt you again. Because I know I won’t.”
“Satoru…”
“I mean it, Y/N.” He pressed his forehead against yours like a groom reciting a vow. “I lost this once. I’m not losing my family again. Not you. Not our kids.”
You stared at him, this man who had once been reckless with your heart, now speaking like he would burn down the world just to keep it safe.
And for the first time in years, the idea of a future with him didn’t feel like a betrayal of yourself.
It felt like coming home.
––
The Creston mansion never felt so cold in your years of living there. It was the opposite of the Gojou mansion, where the air of toxicity lingered in every corner of their estate. But to your own family’s place, you couldn’t remember the last time those beige walls felt so lifeless. Its marble pillars, the polished brass of its doors, the cold gleam of chandeliers—everything felt hostile tonight. It had always been your father’s pride, his empire, the seat of his authority. But as you stepped inside with Satoru’s hand brushing lightly against your waist, you felt like a criminal walking into the gallows.
Am I simply overthinking? You took a deep breath, but even the air felt shallow.
Gen was there first, rising from the velvet chair with a smile that faded the moment she saw Satoru trailing behind you. Your father sat across the room, his reading glasses low on his nose, glancing briefly at the two of you before setting aside the papers in his hand.
“Gen, Dad,” you spoke first, cutting the tension before it could rise. “How are you?”
“We’re fine. How’s Sachi doing?” Gen asked as soon you both sat on the couch. “Is he recovering well? I thought you were going to bring him today when you texted me you’d stop by.”
You offered a small smile. “He’s pretty great, actually. He still needs more rest, but Satoru takes good care of him.”
Your dad nodded. “Are you going to bring him next time?”
“Of course, Dad.”
There was small talk at first. Forced politeness. Gen asking about Sachiro’s daily maintenance. Your father commenting about the food his grandson should eat. They both pretended like the air didn’t reek of tension while Satoru sat silently beside you, respectful, composed, with his hands folded in front of him.
But it was that one question. So plain, so harmless on the surface—yet heavy with implication that unsettled you.
And it came from your father. “Since Sachiro’s getting better, I suppose you’ll be coming back home in a few days, right?”
“I… I’m not sure about that one, Dad.”
Your father’s gaze hardened at your answer. “What do you mean?”
You drew in a deep breath, deep enough it could’ve filled an entire oxygen tank. The words sat heavy in your throat, but you couldn’t force them out, no matter how much you wanted to. No matter how much you had to. Maybe it was fear. But of what? That your family wouldn’t approve? You already knew they wouldn’t. That they’d demand you return to the mansion immediately? That wasn’t even the worst of it.
So you said nothing. You just sat there, lost in the storm of your own thoughts, not until Satoru’s fingers slipped over yours, squeezing your hand gently. It was his silent way of reminding you that you weren’t alone. That whatever came next, he was staying. Because his love was worth fighting for.
Your father, displeased to see your hand-holding, broke the silence. “Y/N, what is this—”
“Dad, I’m pregnant.”
The house fell into stillness.
Even the birds outside stopped chirping.
“WHAT?!”
Gen blinked rapidly. Your father froze mid-motion, one hand still on a teacup that crashed onto the floor later. It was like the air thickened in a single breath, everyone caught in it, everyone waiting for the obvious name to be spoken.
“Toji’s, right?” your father finally asked, voice flat, cold. It was intentional. The question was disgustingly intentional that you couldn’t believe it came from your father at all.
“No!” you quickly denied, “You know we’ve broken up months ago, Dad. It’s not his!”
You could see Gen shaking her head, a hand pressed to her face as if holding herself back from exploding. But her sharp, furious eyes found Satoru in an instant. She seemed to have seen this coming, but refused to believe that her suspicions had actually come into fruition. “Is it the night of Shoko and Suguru’s wedding?” she demanded, her voice trembling with restrained anger. “The one that turned into a cheating scandal—again—involving my sister?”
Your ex-husband swallowed hard, guilt flickering across his face. “It is.”
Your father’s eyes darkened.
And then he moved.
It happened so fast, the way he lunged at Satoru before anyone could speak, his fist slamming across your ex-husband’s jaw with a sickening crack. “You goddamn son of a bitch—!”
“Dad, stop!” you screamed, but nothing could stop an angry father whose daughter got hurt over and over. He grabbed Satoru by the collar, spitting words like fire as his fist landed on him again and again. “Dad, please! Don’t hurt him!”
Even Gen tried to help out. “Dad, that’s enough.”
“You bastard! You despicable bastard!” he roared, his voice shaking with fury you had never seen in him before, not even when Satoru’s first cheating incident tore your world apart. “You already ruined her life once—humiliated her, made her suffer—and now you trap her again? Another child? Another lifetime of misery with you?!”
Satoru took the hits, grunting, stumbling, but not once raising a hand in defense. He let your father vent every ounce of hatred into his body until finally, he caught his breath and pushed back.
“I love her,” Satoru declared, jaw bloodied, eyes wild. “I’m s-sorry. I know it didn’t seem like it, I know I’ve hurt her far too many times for you to believe it, but I fucking love her, and I’m not going anywhere this time! I already wake up every day hating myself for the things I did to her. But this—” He reached for you even as your father shoved him back, “—this is my family. And I will fight for them, with or without your blessing.”
“Blessing?” your father seethed, “You dare speak of blessings after wrecking my daughter’s life?” He turned to you then, his face red, his eyes full of both fury and heartbreak. “If you choose him, Y/N… you choose this bastard and you are no longer my daughter. No longer a Creston. No inheritance. No name. Nothing.”
“Dad, please,” you sobbed, stepping between them, your hands shaking as you held your father back. “Please don’t do this. Please.”
But your dad wouldn’t listen. His voice cut through the room like a blade, speaking words that you never in your life thought he would utter. Words that even Gen herself, no matter how callous she was, could never speak to you.
“If you walk this path with him, Y/N, you walk it alone,” warned your father, “You will be disowned by this family. Completely.”
You felt the world shatter under your feet.
Satoru tried to reach you, his hand trembling as he whispered, “Please don't do this to Y/N—”
But the guards came before he could finish. At your father’s command, they grabbed Satoru by the arms, dragging him toward the door as he struggled, shouting your name. “Y/N! Please, Y/N!”
“Stop!” you begged and cried and pleaded to everyone in the room, but no one listened.
And the more Satoru resisted, the more they were aggressive to him. “Let me go! I need to talk to her! Y/N!”
His voice echoed through the marble halls until the heavy doors slammed shut, leaving you behind, shaking, sobbing, frozen solid to your place as your father’s ultimatum rang in your ears like a death sentence.
––
Satoru didn’t remember how he got home.
One moment he was being thrown out of the Creston mansion like a criminal, and the next thing he knew, he was in the penthouse alone, pacing like a madman, replaying the events in his head until it made him sick.
You didn’t come out of the mansion. You didn’t walk out the door. Not even when they dragged him out like he was nothing. Not when he called your name with his voice breaking in half.
You stayed. You stayed behind.
And Satoru knew what that meant.
Blood ran thicker than water, after all. And Satoru envied you for it—for the way your family stood together, for how naturally you fought for one another. His own family was nothing like that. Broken, dysfunctional, poisoned from the inside out. He couldn’t quite grasp how yours could love so fiercely, so selflessly. It didn’t sink in right away why you would choose them over him, why cutting them off wasn’t as simple for you as it had been for him and his own family.
His chest caved under the pain of it. He staggered into the living room and slammed his fist into the wall so hard the frames rattled. Again. And again. Until his knuckles split and the sharp pain screamed up his arm, but never enough. He wanted to break something, everything. Maybe himself most of all.
“Why,” his voice cracked, “why can’t I fix this?!”
He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Was it God? Was it his subconscious? Regardless, the questions fell out like prayers no one would answer. His shoulders shook as he buried his face in his hands, tears spilling freely now, the mask ripped off until only the wreck of a man was left behind.
He thought about you. About the way you had stood there between him and your father, crying like the world was ending. About how he had ruined everything once before, and now here he was again, cursed to repeat it like some sick punishment.
“God, I just want my family back! Please… Please, I’m s-sick of this! I’m fucking sick of it!” he choked out, his voice breaking as his fists hit the wall again, with each punch harder than the last. The plaster cracked and his knuckles throbbed, so much so that he wondered if he broke his hand, but he liked it that way. He wanted to feel it burn, wanted it to hurt because he deserved it, because maybe if it hurt enough, it would erase the never ending guilt crawling under his skin.
And he would’ve gone on like that if not for the tiny, fragile voice behind him. “Dada?”
That was the only thing that made Satoru freeze. He turned around to see Sachiro standing there in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and the other holding onto his teddy bear. He looked so small, so breakable, and his innocent gaze moved from the blood dripping down Satoru’s knuckles to the tears on his face.
“Are you… okay?”
Something in Satoru snapped then, not from anger this time but from the sight of his son looking at him like that. He quickly dropped to his knees, pulling the boy into his arms so tightly Sachiro squeaked at the suddenness of it.
“I-I don’t know, buddy,” he whispered into his son’s hair, his voice shaking so hard it hurt. “I don’t know what’s going to h-happen to us.”
“Dada, why you crying?”
“Because…” Satoru shut his eyes, inhaling sharply, “because I keep messing everything up. I-I can’t bring your mommy back. I’m sorry, Sachi. I’m so sorry I can’t give you the family you deserve. I… I failed you. I failed mommy and our baby. I’m so lost.”
Sachiro wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck like he was trying to hold him together even though he was too small to fix anything. “I’m here.”
Even his tiniest, most innocent gesture was enough to split Satoru open. Because after everything, after convincing himself, even for a fleeting moment, that he could be a perfect father to his kids, he was reminded over and over that he would never be.
He couldn’t even manage to be a decent husband, let alone a good man. A cheater. A coward. A pathetic excuse of a man who had ruined everything good that ever reached for him. He disgusted himself down to the marrow. He was a piece of shit, an asshole, a useless good-for-nothing scumbag—
The doorbell rang. Once.
Damn it!
Then, again.
God fucking dammit!
“Dada.” His son tugged at his shirt. “Someone’s at the door.”
Satoru stiffened, wiping his face with his sleeve. He wasn’t ready to face the police, not after he had just broken down in front of his son, and still drowning from the heartbreak of losing you. Couldn’t your father give him even a little bit of mercy and just let Sachiro stay the night?
Satoru felt like he was losing his mind.
The lock clicked. Footsteps crossed the threshold.
He turned toward the door with his heart pounding, Sachiro following him behind.
...
...
And there you were.
Standing with your bags, eyes red from crying, looking at him like there was never any other choice but him.
notes. drabbles and one-shots from the sn/sy-verse. all side stories are canon to the series unless stated otherwise (eg. episode 02). may contain spoilers of the series. timelines are not chronological.
ep. 01 sera x sukuna
ep. 02 christmas au with gojo and sachiro (not sy-canon)
ep. 03 what’s wrong with gojo sachiro?
ep. 04 dear parents
ep. 05 blue christmas
ep. 06 the love of satoru’s life (soon!)
ep. 07 letters to my dear wife, akemi (soon!)
ep. 08 his death is my freedom (soon!)
ep. 09 yn’s affair (soon!)
ep. 10 a bora bora summer (soon!)
ep. 11 the curious case of yuuta okkotsu (soon!)
ep. 12 megumi’s best friend… or so he thinks (soon!)
when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.
genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+
tags/warnings. explicit smut, violence, jealousy, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of cheating
notes. 7.6k wc. don't have much to say for now :'D i'll pour it all out on the last chapter. thank you for waiting on this one!
series masterlist -> episode fifteen (finale)
There were days, you realized, that were more forgiving than the others. At least you could say that in your world. You were so used to enduring the worst that life could throw at you—drained by endless tears, heartbreak, and disappointment. Yet, every so often, there came days when life granted you a brief reprieve from the pain. Perhaps it was to prepare you for another storm. Or perhaps it was a sign that your heart might finally find peace.
You hoped it was the latter. Because today seemed to be a better day, as the morning light broke across the whitewashed walls of the hospital as if to signal a new beginning. The rain had finally stopped, taking with it the gloom it had cast over the city for the past week.
After days of anxiety and sterile air thick with disinfectant, the world finally seemed to exhale with you. The doctor said Sachiro was well enough to be discharged. The IV lines were gone, the heart monitor silenced, and the medical tubes pulled out, leaving only small tapes and faint bruises on your son’s soft skin. He looked smaller somehow, fragile in a way that made your chest ache, though his smile was bright and unburdened like nothing had happened at all. What a strong boy, you thought in tearful silence. Feeling bad for your son, but also proud of his resilience as a mere 3-year old boy.
“Doctor, I can’t thank you enough,” you said in utmost gratitude to the person who saved your son’s life, “From fixing my heart, and now, Sachiro’s…”
“There’s no need to thank me, Y/N. This is my job,” he replied, smiling, “Besides, your father and I go way back. I know he’d have given me a hard time if I didn't handle yours and Sachi’s cases successfully.”
Your dad joined in with a chuckle. “I’m glad you know.”
While you and your father continued to speak to the doctor about medications, aftercare, follow-up tests, Sachiro sat cross-legged on the bed beside Satoru, eyes wide with child-like determination while in a conversation with his daddy. You caught the gazes they exchanged and didn’t miss the chance to eavesdrop, listening in on them while speaking with the doctor.
“Dada,” he said, with that little boy stubbornness he inherited from his father. “Let’s go home to your house.”
The words made you pause. Even your father did, too. Your dad’s brows even furrowed immediately as concern knitted across his lined face. “Sachiro,” he said gently, speaking as if Satoru wasn’t in the same room. “Grandpa's house is better for you. It’s quieter. You should rest.”
But Sachiro only shook his head, his little fists balled on his lap. “But Sachi want Dada’s house! I like it there.”
Satoru didn’t look at you when his son said it. As though he knew his son’s request was a landmine waiting to be stepped on, which was also why he didn’t interfere. Not one word from Satoru convincing anyone of anything. He simply stayed silent, allowing the decision to be yours and yours alone, even if he was the paternal figure to your broken family. Still, you didn’t miss the sadness that shone on your ex-husband’s eyes. Sachiro choosing to stay with his father seemed to have touched his heart in ways a normally disregarded parent would.
“I’ll come with Sachi.” You stood there, a folder of discharge papers pressed against your chest, suffocating from the weight of your father’s gaze on you before he even spoke.
“Y/N,” your father began, carefully, like he was afraid the wrong tone might make you snap. “It’s not… proper. You staying in another man’s house like that? You’re unmarried.”
His words bit into you sharper than they should have.
Unmarried.
As if the ring once on your finger, the vows you had spoken before God and family, the home you once shared with Satoru Gojou had never existed at all. As if the boy sitting there—your son, with his father’s blue eyes and his mother’s gentle mien—had been born without history, without consequence, without love that once ran so deep it drowned you both.
Your father’s voice then softened, cautious but only because he must have realized his poor choice of words. “People will talk, Y/N. They always do. I don’t want you to go through this again and have Ian clear up your name every time.”
And maybe he was right. Maybe the whole country would, yet again, feast on this rumor like wolves on a carcass—how the divorcee ran back into her ex-husband’s house the moment she had her chance again. How she stayed there with him, nights under the same roof, like his shameless paramour.
But they wouldn’t see the truth, would they?
They wouldn’t see the nights Satoru never left the hospital, slumped over Sachiro’s bed in the same wrinkled clothes, red-rimmed eyes refusing to close even when exhaustion carved shadows into his face. They wouldn’t see the way his hands shook when Sachiro cried in pain, the way his voice cracked when he told him it would be okay.
They wouldn’t see that this wasn’t about romance, or reputation, or whatever fantasy the world wanted to paint over it.
This was about a boy who wanted both his parents in one place because the machines that beeped by his bedside had reminded him—too early, too cruelly—that life could take them away.
Your father sighed beside you. “It isn’t right,” he murmured again, his hand squeezing your shoulder. “You're smart, Y/N. Don't make foolish decisions.”
“Dad, I…” Satoru suddenly spoke up, his voice laced with nervousness, so much so that he didn’t realize he slipped and called your father ‘dad’. “I’ll take good care of them. I’ll be by Sachi’s side until he recovers and I’ll help Y/N with everything she needs. I promise they’ll be—”
“Y/N, we should discuss this outside.” Your father callously ignored Satoru like he wasn’t there. And you watched how he was visibly hurt by the way he was treated by your dad. He didn’t deserve it, no matter how much pain you had suffered because of him, he was still human.
But Satoru wasn’t just any man.
He was your ex-husband.
Your son’s father.
The man who had once memorized every inch of your body like scripture and now hovered silently in the background, tucking Sachiro’s jacket into his overnight bag with hands too careful for someone so outwardly indifferent. He didn’t even try to join the discussion anymore. He gave up with his one attempt and respectfully just let you decide, like your word alone could shift the earth beneath his feet.
And maybe it could.
Because you saw the truth in the little things: how he was genuine about taking care of you and Sachiro, how he was hopeful to be given a chance at letting you stay in his home. He must have seen it as the perfect opportunity to make up with you, especially now that you still had many things to clear up and problems to resolve.
You exhaled slowly. “It’s just for a few days,” you said to your dad, your voice quieter than you expected as you stood by the door. “Until Sachi’s better. My decision is final.”
Your father looked at you like he wanted to argue, but the words never came. Because there was nothing improper about a boy wanting both his parents near. And there was nothing sinful about a mother wanting the same.
––
The days that followed blurred into something almost dreamlike.
Because Satoru Gojou, for all the chaos he carried in his bones, was steady now.
He didn’t outwardly show his joy per se, but the bliss he felt inside glistened like stars in his eyes. He seemed happy, very much so, now that his family was living together with him as if everything had finally settled into perfect harmony.
Satoru rose before you every morning, padding around his penthouse in quiet socks as he prepared Sachiro’s breakfast and made sure you had something warm to eat, too. You could tell he was very specific about what he cooked, choosing healthy ingredients catered to a recovering child and a pregnant lady. He even refilled the humidifier in your room, worried that the air was too dry and could trigger your allergies. He moved through the house with careful treading as this—the son curled up on the couch watching cartoons, you walking slowly through the hallway with one hand instinctively resting on your belly—was something he might wake from if he breathed too loudly.
And he never once touched you without permission. Not once, which was unusual of the Satoru Gojou you knew.
Every time his hand brushed yours when he offered you tea, every time he tugged the blanket higher over your shoulders while you napped on the couch, every time he looked at you like you were something worshipful—he waited. He waited and let you feel his devotion without demanding anything in return.
Maybe that was what softened you.
Because you had told him you needed time. That he couldn’t just slide back into your life like nothing had happened, like there weren’t years of pain and mistakes between you.
But he made time feel weightless.
He made it so easy to forget the ache in your chest when he kissed Sachiro’s hair before bed, when he wordlessly washed the dishes after dinner, when he crouched down to tie your shoes one morning because you had bent down too quickly and he scolded you for it under his breath.
Was he only this sweet because you were carrying another piece of him inside you? You sighed, wondering why you still doubted his love even after the confession you both made that night by the lake. But you just couldn’t help but think deeply sometimes, and maybe stare at the view of the city while thinking of thoughts that should never consume you. Thoughts of whether he would have been this sweet and devoted if it was Akemi carrying his child. Was it cruelty that made you imagine Akemi pregnant with his child just to feed your jealousy, even after she told you she was dying? Or was it spite that kept you from feeling even a flicker of pity when she said Satoru left her like she was nothing? Perhaps you even took pleasure in knowing that after all her desperate wishing to have a baby with him, you were the one he had gotten pregnant, without even trying, for the second time around.
You were never an angel to begin with, especially not after everyone around you had been brutal and malicious. She didn't deserve to suffer that much, obviously. But life was simply never fair, and she wasn’t exempt from it.
The funny thing was, Satoru wasn’t even aware of the spiteful thoughts that plagued you during those silent afternoons. He had no idea how you would manage to work yourself into a fury over imagined scenes of him and Akemi in this very penthouse—repulsed by the visions your own mind conjured. Maybe you were being petty. Maybe it was just the hormones. But every time Satoru walked by, oblivious and unbothered, you were simmering hotter than before.
But maybe he sensed it in the way you protectively held your stomach sometimes when you thought no one was looking. Perhaps he noticed how your replies had shrunk to single words, or how you would send him an accusatory glare when he was merely trying to start a conversation. Maybe he felt it, too, in the way you looked at him—as if this man, this flawed, beautiful man, was somehow your greatest enemy.
Damn it. Perhaps it was time to admit it—was it truly jealousy burning through you, or was it the ache of being untouched by the man who supposedly was in love with you?
The room was quiet, and you sat at the edge of the bed in your nightgown, watching Satoru’s long frame as he got out of the shower, only a towel covering his lower half. His head tilted down like he didn’t dare meet your eyes too long. He looked almost anxious, though he would never admit it.
And he had been so careful with you. Too careful that it bothered you.
“Is Sachi asleep?” He cleared his throat once and tried to strike a conversation. But you didn’t answer. You ignored his pitiful attempt at talking to you, busying yourself by putting lotion on your legs. It felt humorous to have the upperhand now, with him clearly on edge, and you acting like you didn’t owe him any interaction. “...Y/N, did I do something wrong?”
You didn’t return his gaze. Instead, you closed the lid of the lotion and placed it carefully atop the nightstand. “No.”
Next thing you knew, the man was already standing in front of you, his damp white hair dripping down his toned body as he crouched down to meet your eyes. “You’ve been angry with me for three days now. Please tell me what I’m not doing right, I’ll fix it.”
“Leave me alone,” you muttered, still avoiding his gaze while opening the drawer, only to see an unopened box of condoms. They weren’t meant for you, clearly. He had probably saved it for when Akemi used to visit. And he knew that was exactly what you were thinking the moment he saw the box, too.
“That’s not…” He tried to explain, but what was the point? You knew they were sexually involved before her illness had worsened. Satoru could only sigh under his breath, the sound closer to defeat than frustration, then placed his hands on your knees with bright blue eyes that begged for your understanding. “I’ll throw it away.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You clearly knew what a condom is,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to cut. “Should’ve used it on me that night at the cabin.”
For a moment, he was caught off guard by your remark, but then he shook his head and let out a soft chuckle like something had just clicked in his mind, something that made all this absurdly amusing.
“What?” you asked, irritation sharpening your tone.
Satoru reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before lightly pinching your cheek. “Nothing,” he murmured, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You acted like this when you were pregnant with Sachi, too.”
“What are you talking about?” You slapped his hand away, scowling.
He only laughed quietly, moving closer until his warmth pressed against your side. One arm slipped around your waist, the other covering your hand. “You were always irritated with me back then,” he said, voice gentle, teasing. “And jealous. A lot.” He nuzzled your cheek, his breath warm against your skin. “Are we having a boy again?”
You hated it. The way your chest tightened, that stupid rush in your heartbeat. It only ever happened because of Satoru. You couldn’t even remember the last time your heart fluttered wildly like this, but somehow the memory was still there, vivid enough to shatter every wall you had put up.
“Why do you keep your distance?” you finally asked, your eyes meeting his ocean blues. “Why ask me to sleep in the same room as you when it would be more proper to sleep apart?”
He wasn’t oblivious—he had to know what you were implying, how your words really pointed to his reluctance, his lack of intimacy, and the insecurity you were feeling because of it.
“We just got out of the hospital,” he explained, almost cautious. “And you’re pregnant. I wanted to look after you but still respect your space. I thought… maybe you needed time.”
But you had laughed, incredulous, pulse fluttering. “Time?”
And that was all it took. Because then his arms dropped to his sides. His shoulders straightened. His blue eyes darkened, and you knew—you knew—that thin rope of restraint was about to snap.
“You think it’s easy for me?” His voice was strained, like a puppy being deprived of treats. “Every night I lie next to you, and all I can think about is you. Touching you. Tasting you. Being inside you. You have no idea what you do to me.”
Your breath caught, heart hammering by his confession. “But you—”
“And how you wearing this thin nightgown,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, “does unspeakable things to me.”
Literally so. Because you didn’t need to look down to see the bulge growing under his towel. You didn’t need to search his face to find the lust brewing behind his eyes. And somehow, his reaction excited you. His visible restraint woke all the desire you had been craving to satiate.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” Satoru’s voice dropped low as he caught your chin between his fingers. “There’s a reason you end up pregnant every time I touch you.” His eyes lingered on your mouth, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Let me remind you why.”
It was him who crossed the line first. Him who kissed you, loud and passionate, pulling you tighter by the waist as if he might burn alive if he didn’t. He groaned into your mouth with a raw, guttural sound that went straight through you, hands gripping your hips like he was finally done pretending he didn’t want this. When he lifted you—effortless, like you weighed nothing—and made you straddle him, his mouth never left yours. Not once. His kiss was everywhere: down your throat, across your collarbone, all over your chest, tracing fire over your skin.
And when his fingers tugged the strap of your nightgown, you realized just how long he had been holding himself back.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your neck.
You grabbed a fistful of his white hair. “Don’t you dare.”
That was all he needed.
He had ripped your nightgown easily, though careless, and elicited a shriek from you. That was the last thing you thought he would do, but Satoru was getting rougher by the second, clearly because of your provocation. He was acting like an animal released from being in a cage for too long. He was hungry. Very hungry. And putting his mouth on your bosom was his first favorite treat.
You leaned against him as he circled his tongue along your nipple—teasing, suckling, and a little bit of biting. “H-Hey!”
“Sorry.” He displayed a smug smile before proceeding to suck your other tit. “Got carried away.”
While his mouth was on your breast, his hand was kneading the other. He massaged the slope with both a gentle yet rabid touch, flicking the nipple, and then back to squeezing your tit as if he was touching it for the first time. It was at that point where you couldn’t suppress your moans anymore. You shamelessly melted into his touch, driven half-mad by the days of unspoken want that had finally come undone.
And in your own sensual frenzy, your hand reached down to just where his bulge was. It was hard, begging to be released, and twitching underneath the towel. He moaned from your slightest touch. Then, got too excited when you started rubbing him, he almost couldn’t breathe.
“Y/N…” He pulled away, only to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re driving me insane.”
“Did I tell you to stop?” you asked, almost sternly, which only excited him even more.
His smirk was that of a man who had won the jackpot. How arrogant! And so, he continued kissing your breasts, one after the other, and especially enjoyed when his face was between them. He didn’t have time to do all this back at the cabin, since that moment was unexpected and it was your first time reuniting in bed after many years. But you remembered Satoru loving your pair, giving them equal attention and leaving every inch of skin with marks that belonged to him.
Did he love doing this to Akemi, too? Did he kiss her body like this? Left marks all over her skin like this?
Out of sheer frustration, you pushed Satoru back. His eyes went wide, startled, as if to ask what was wrong, but your glare silenced him. You stepped between his legs and yanked at the towel around his hips. There, his hard member stood, pulsating and dripping at the tip. Your finger traced the veins on his throbbing cock, making it angrier than it already was.
“Y/N, please…” His face begged you to do more.
And it sure was entertaining to see him like this after a long time. Back when you two were married, you did it everyday like animals in heat. You were so smitten, so passionate, so intoxicated with your toxicity that every push-pull ended in the most satisfying, most mind-blowing sex.
You were on your knees as he looked at you, his entire length being stroked by your hand, before you placed your tongue flat on his tip. Satoru cursed under his breath and threw his head back, but you continued to roll your tongue along the head—the pink and swollen head—then finally started wrapping your lips around his girth.
Even with Toji, you never enjoyed giving head the way you did with Satoru. Perhaps it was the connection, or perhaps, it was simply because you prefer doing it to someone you really loved.
“Fuck,” your ex-husband growled, seeing your head bobbing up and down as you sucked every inch of him. “That feels so fucking good.”
You even kissed the sides, the ridges, then put him back completely in your mouth. This time around, you forced it all the way down your throat, resisting the gag reflex but still ended up choking on his cock. Goddamn were you horny. You knew this was the pregnancy hormones, but you wanted more and you couldn’t be stopped.
“Y/N.” He sat up as you jerked his member, his entire length coated by your saliva, while he started pulling you up. You stood before him as he was face level with your tummy, and his hands began tracing your legs, your hips, until he was able to playfully squeeze your bum. Satoru looked up at you, then. With eyes that screamed of bliss, his chin resting on your belly where your baby would be in. His breath ragged as he looked at you. All of you. His hands traced your curves, lingering over your belly as though it was sacred, before he kissed lower, lower, worshipping you with his mouth until you were trembling, arching, gasping his name like a prayer. “Can I…?”
Nodding, you could feel him give your buttocks a final squeeze before he started lifting your leg over his shoulder. The other stayed on the floor, which gave him the best access to see your pussy. And of course, he didn’t waste any second before he dove in.
“Satoru—”
His lips were on your clit in a snap, tongue lapping between your folds—slurpling, suckling, and tasting your slick inside. The deeper he was, the weaker your legs felt. But his strong arms held you in place, fingers digging into your thighs as though he could hold you here forever. Although one hand switched places with his mouth every now and then—one moment his hand would palm your pussy, the next his mouth would be kissing your entrance, his tongue swirling in it and around it.
“God, you taste so good,” he groaned, two fingers now stretching your core and entering you in and out, “Been dreaming about this… about you… every damn night.”
“Mhmm—”
He sure took his sweet time with the foreplay that by the time he made you lay in bed, you were already catching your breath. Your legs were already shaking, and your head was already dizzy. But it was not enough, no. Not for the both of you. You wanted him inside just as he wanted to be inside you.
So by the time he finally had you in a perfect, comfortable position, he spread your legs apart and placed his tip at your entrance. His lengthy cock teased, circled, and then rubbed against your clit. Again and again. Purposefully so, because he chuckled at the way you glared at him impatiently.
“Hnng—! Just put it inside.”
He did it slowly when he slid into you, careful but deep. You swore you felt the world tilt off its axis. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath uneven, like he was trying to keep it together even now. You could see his girth coated with slick, with every entrance to your pussy making you clench around him tighter.
“Mm—fuck!”
“You drive me crazy,” he muttered, hips snapping harder now, and faster, too. Each thrust shaking through you until your words broke into gasps. “All I want… all I ever want… is you.”
You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled sharp and hot in your belly. He kissed you through it, swallowed your cries, held you so close it felt like he might break you apart just to keep you. His bed was steady enough not to make any noises through the walls, but it was your moans that echoed loud enough across the room. The squelching, the whimpering, the snapping of skin-to-skin.
“Satoru, I’m gonna…”
He held your hips in place, slamming himself balls deep into you, and watching your breasts bouncing all over the place as he raced to chase his climax. “Me, too, baby.”
Both of you were tangled in sweat, and the sound of your own ragged breathing filled the room until he released thick ropes of cum inside you. You couldn’t tell how much, but he stayed inside you for a minute or two, giving your lips a sweet peck before he finally pulled out. Almost immediately, his cum came spilling out of you. They dripped out of your hole as if they were too full and no longer had space inside.
It was filthy and tender all at once—love and obsession and devotion and ruin. And you remembered his words earlier, how this was why he could get you pregnant so easily. Funnily enough, it wasn’t just about how much of his semen was inside you. Not literally. It was the love and passion he was pouring into your lovemaking. It was how your body would always recognize his, as though you two were perfectly made for each other.
When it was over, he scooped you into his arms, wrapped tight like he couldn’t bear to let you go. He kissed your temple softly, reverently this time.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, “how much I love you, Y/N. Through anything and everything. You’re my only one.”
––
The next morning, sunlight spilled through the living room curtains, warm and golden, catching in the strands of Satoru’s hair as he sat cross-legged on the floor with Sachiro perched in his lap. You sat beside them on the couch, one hand idly resting on your belly, watching the way Satoru absentmindedly fixed the cowlick in Sachi’s hair while the boy leaned against him, still groggy from his sleep.
It felt domestic in a way you hadn’t felt in years. Too peaceful. Too comfortable. Like the war between your hearts had quieted for this one stolen moment.
“Good morning, Mama!” your little boy greeted.
“Morning, my baby.” You added it with a kiss to his forehead. “Did daddy make you breakfast?”
Sachiro hugged his teddy bear as his eyes fixed on the television screen. “Yes, Mama. Sachi ate pancakes!”
Satoru gave you a quiet look then. It wasn’t anything naughty. In fact, he had a very thoughtful gaze, seemingly worried that he might have gotten too rough with you last night. “I’ve prepared you a plate there and some apple juice.”
“Thank you,” was your simple reply. No morning kisses, no overly sweet gestures. Your son still wasn’t aware that his parents were expecting again, so you were treading the situation carefully. It also helped that Satoru could read through your movements and respected you enough to handle it at your own pace.
“Hey, Sachi,” you began softly.
He turned to you, wide-eyed, curious. “Yeah, Mama?”
You swallowed, glancing once at Satoru before you said it. “You’re… going to be a big brother soon.”
For a moment, there was silence.
And then—
“Huh?!” Sachiro twisted in Satoru’s lap so fast the man almost lost his balance. “A baby? Like… a real baby? In your tummy? Right now?!”
You nodded, lips twitching and unsure what to make of your son’s reaction. “Yes, right now. Mama is pregnant.”
His jaw dropped like you had told him the moon was moving into the guest room. “But… but… how did it happen?” He blinked rapidly, the picture of childlike innocence, before his little nose wrinkled. “Wait… don’t tell me. I think I know.”
“Oh, do you now?” Satoru acted surprised, poking his son’s cheek. You smothered a laugh into your palm. He didn’t even bother hiding his.
“Yeah,” your son said confidently, looking between the two of you with all the gravity of a seasoned detective. “It’s because you and Mama love each other again, right? That’s how it works! Auntie Gen told Sachi babies are born when the mama and dada love each other.”
You froze for half a second. Love? You quickly forced a smile. “Something like that.”
But then Sachiro tilted his head again, eyes darting between you and Satoru like he was connecting even bigger dots. “Is Dada going to be Mama’s husband?”
The words fell into the room like pebbles into still water. Quickly enough, your body went still and Satoru’s hand froze midair on his son’s back. The boy looked between you both expectantly, as if marriage was the obvious next step, as if it was the only logical conclusion to his parents having another baby on the way.
You opened your mouth, then closed it, then forced a small, gentle smile. Sometimes, Sachiro was a little too smart for his age. “That… is for another conversation, my sweetie.”
Satoru stared at you for a good minute, careful not to cross any boundaries and give answers unaligned to your own. But you could tell how much he had wanted to say yes to Sachiro, to say that his dream of bringing his family back together was no longer far-fetched.
Meanwhile, Sachiro squinted like he wanted to protest, but then his face lit up, wide and beaming, his entire little body vibrating with joy as he threw his arms around Satoru’s neck. “I’m gonna be a big brother!” he announced, muffled against Satoru’s shoulder. “Dada, we need to buy a big house like grandpa’s now!”
Satoru chuckled then. “Of course, buddy.”
And for that moment, with Sachiro grinning like Christmas had come early, you let yourself believe in this fragile, imperfect little happiness. But still, there were many things to worry about. When your son mentioned his grandfather, you were immediately reminded of the things you still need to clear out before you can fully live in this dream-like fantasy.
It didn’t surprise you how soon Satoru joined you in the kitchen the moment his son had become too engrossed in the cartoon he was watching. He knew there were things he had to clarify, so approaching you for a private talk was the next thing he did.
“You told him,” mentioned Satoru, reaching for your hand. “Does this mean you’ll keep our baby?”
You solemnly looked into his eyes. “It’s ours.”
His warm lips pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “Thank you for letting me be a father to them, Y/N. I promise I’ll live my whole life serving you and our kids.”
Sighing, you squeezed his hand. “But Satoru, we still have to tell them.”
He looked up, confused. “Tell who what?”
You hesitated, lips pressing together before you exhaled slowly. “I mean, my family. My dad, Gen—them.” The words felt strange on your tongue, even though they were your family, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. “They’re not going to take it well, Satoru,” you warned softly. “After everything, they’ll think I’m out of my mind.”
He didn’t flinch. Not at all. He simply wrapped his arms around you, his gaze softening in a way it only did for you. “You’re right,” he agreed wholeheartedly. “They need to hear it from us first before anyone else. I know they won’t accept it right away, but I’ll fight for you. I promise I’ll do everything until I earn their trust again. Maybe not fully, but even a scrap is enough. Even just trusting that I won’t ever hurt you again. Because I know I won’t.”
“Satoru…”
“I mean it, Y/N.” He pressed his forehead against yours like a groom reciting a vow. “I lost this once. I’m not losing my family again. Not you. Not our kids.”
You stared at him, this man who had once been reckless with your heart, now speaking like he would burn down the world just to keep it safe.
And for the first time in years, the idea of a future with him didn’t feel like a betrayal of yourself.
It felt like coming home.
––
The Creston mansion never felt so cold in your years of living there. It was the opposite of the Gojou mansion, where the air of toxicity lingered in every corner of their estate. But to your own family’s place, you couldn’t remember the last time those beige walls felt so lifeless. Its marble pillars, the polished brass of its doors, the cold gleam of chandeliers—everything felt hostile tonight. It had always been your father’s pride, his empire, the seat of his authority. But as you stepped inside with Satoru’s hand brushing lightly against your waist, you felt like a criminal walking into the gallows.
Am I simply overthinking? You took a deep breath, but even the air felt shallow.
Gen was there first, rising from the velvet chair with a smile that faded the moment she saw Satoru trailing behind you. Your father sat across the room, his reading glasses low on his nose, glancing briefly at the two of you before setting aside the papers in his hand.
“Gen, Dad,” you spoke first, cutting the tension before it could rise. “How are you?”
“We’re fine. How’s Sachi doing?” Gen asked as soon you both sat on the couch. “Is he recovering well? I thought you were going to bring him today when you texted me you’d stop by.”
You offered a small smile. “He’s pretty great, actually. He still needs more rest, but Satoru takes good care of him.”
Your dad nodded. “Are you going to bring him next time?”
“Of course, Dad.”
There was small talk at first. Forced politeness. Gen asking about Sachiro’s daily maintenance. Your father commenting about the food his grandson should eat. They both pretended like the air didn’t reek of tension while Satoru sat silently beside you, respectful, composed, with his hands folded in front of him.
But it was that one question. So plain, so harmless on the surface—yet heavy with implication that unsettled you.
And it came from your father. “Since Sachiro’s getting better, I suppose you’ll be coming back home in a few days, right?”
“I… I’m not sure about that one, Dad.”
Your father’s gaze hardened at your answer. “What do you mean?”
You drew in a deep breath, deep enough it could’ve filled an entire oxygen tank. The words sat heavy in your throat, but you couldn’t force them out, no matter how much you wanted to. No matter how much you had to. Maybe it was fear. But of what? That your family wouldn’t approve? You already knew they wouldn’t. That they’d demand you return to the mansion immediately? That wasn’t even the worst of it.
So you said nothing. You just sat there, lost in the storm of your own thoughts, not until Satoru’s fingers slipped over yours, squeezing your hand gently. It was his silent way of reminding you that you weren’t alone. That whatever came next, he was staying. Because his love was worth fighting for.
Your father, displeased to see your hand-holding, broke the silence. “Y/N, what is this—”
“Dad, I’m pregnant.”
The house fell into stillness.
Even the birds outside stopped chirping.
“WHAT?!”
Gen blinked rapidly. Your father froze mid-motion, one hand still on a teacup that crashed onto the floor later. It was like the air thickened in a single breath, everyone caught in it, everyone waiting for the obvious name to be spoken.
“Toji’s, right?” your father finally asked, voice flat, cold. It was intentional. The question was disgustingly intentional that you couldn’t believe it came from your father at all.
“No!” you quickly denied, “You know we’ve broken up months ago, Dad. It’s not his!”
You could see Gen shaking her head, a hand pressed to her face as if holding herself back from exploding. But her sharp, furious eyes found Satoru in an instant. She seemed to have seen this coming, but refused to believe that her suspicions had actually come into fruition. “Is it the night of Shoko and Suguru’s wedding?” she demanded, her voice trembling with restrained anger. “The one that turned into a cheating scandal—again—involving my sister?”
Your ex-husband swallowed hard, guilt flickering across his face. “It is.”
Your father’s eyes darkened.
And then he moved.
It happened so fast, the way he lunged at Satoru before anyone could speak, his fist slamming across your ex-husband’s jaw with a sickening crack. “You goddamn son of a bitch—!”
“Dad, stop!” you screamed, but nothing could stop an angry father whose daughter got hurt over and over. He grabbed Satoru by the collar, spitting words like fire as his fist landed on him again and again. “Dad, please! Don’t hurt him!”
Even Gen tried to help out. “Dad, that’s enough.”
“You bastard! You despicable bastard!” he roared, his voice shaking with fury you had never seen in him before, not even when Satoru’s first cheating incident tore your world apart. “You already ruined her life once—humiliated her, made her suffer—and now you trap her again? Another child? Another lifetime of misery with you?!”
Satoru took the hits, grunting, stumbling, but not once raising a hand in defense. He let your father vent every ounce of hatred into his body until finally, he caught his breath and pushed back.
“I love her,” Satoru declared, jaw bloodied, eyes wild. “I’m s-sorry. I know it didn’t seem like it, I know I’ve hurt her far too many times for you to believe it, but I fucking love her, and I’m not going anywhere this time! I already wake up every day hating myself for the things I did to her. But this—” He reached for you even as your father shoved him back, “—this is my family. And I will fight for them, with or without your blessing.”
“Blessing?” your father seethed, “You dare speak of blessings after wrecking my daughter’s life?” He turned to you then, his face red, his eyes full of both fury and heartbreak. “If you choose him, Y/N… you choose this bastard and you are no longer my daughter. No longer a Creston. No inheritance. No name. Nothing.”
“Dad, please,” you sobbed, stepping between them, your hands shaking as you held your father back. “Please don’t do this. Please.”
But your dad wouldn’t listen. His voice cut through the room like a blade, speaking words that you never in your life thought he would utter. Words that even Gen herself, no matter how callous she was, could never speak to you.
“If you walk this path with him, Y/N, you walk it alone,” warned your father, “You will be disowned by this family. Completely.”
You felt the world shatter under your feet.
Satoru tried to reach you, his hand trembling as he whispered, “Please don't do this to Y/N—”
But the guards came before he could finish. At your father’s command, they grabbed Satoru by the arms, dragging him toward the door as he struggled, shouting your name. “Y/N! Please, Y/N!”
“Stop!” you begged and cried and pleaded to everyone in the room, but no one listened.
And the more Satoru resisted, the more they were aggressive to him. “Let me go! I need to talk to her! Y/N!”
His voice echoed through the marble halls until the heavy doors slammed shut, leaving you behind, shaking, sobbing, frozen solid to your place as your father’s ultimatum rang in your ears like a death sentence.
––
Satoru didn’t remember how he got home.
One moment he was being thrown out of the Creston mansion like a criminal, and the next thing he knew, he was in the penthouse alone, pacing like a madman, replaying the events in his head until it made him sick.
You didn’t come out of the mansion. You didn’t walk out the door. Not even when they dragged him out like he was nothing. Not when he called your name with his voice breaking in half.
You stayed. You stayed behind.
And Satoru knew what that meant.
Blood ran thicker than water, after all. And Satoru envied you for it—for the way your family stood together, for how naturally you fought for one another. His own family was nothing like that. Broken, dysfunctional, poisoned from the inside out. He couldn’t quite grasp how yours could love so fiercely, so selflessly. It didn’t sink in right away why you would choose them over him, why cutting them off wasn’t as simple for you as it had been for him and his own family.
His chest caved under the pain of it. He staggered into the living room and slammed his fist into the wall so hard the frames rattled. Again. And again. Until his knuckles split and the sharp pain screamed up his arm, but never enough. He wanted to break something, everything. Maybe himself most of all.
“Why,” his voice cracked, “why can’t I fix this?!”
He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Was it God? Was it his subconscious? Regardless, the questions fell out like prayers no one would answer. His shoulders shook as he buried his face in his hands, tears spilling freely now, the mask ripped off until only the wreck of a man was left behind.
He thought about you. About the way you had stood there between him and your father, crying like the world was ending. About how he had ruined everything once before, and now here he was again, cursed to repeat it like some sick punishment.
“God, I just want my family back! Please… Please, I’m s-sick of this! I’m fucking sick of it!” he choked out, his voice breaking as his fists hit the wall again, with each punch harder than the last. The plaster cracked and his knuckles throbbed, so much so that he wondered if he broke his hand, but he liked it that way. He wanted to feel it burn, wanted it to hurt because he deserved it, because maybe if it hurt enough, it would erase the never ending guilt crawling under his skin.
And he would’ve gone on like that if not for the tiny, fragile voice behind him. “Dada?”
That was the only thing that made Satoru freeze. He turned around to see Sachiro standing there in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and the other holding onto his teddy bear. He looked so small, so breakable, and his innocent gaze moved from the blood dripping down Satoru’s knuckles to the tears on his face.
“Are you… okay?”
Something in Satoru snapped then, not from anger this time but from the sight of his son looking at him like that. He quickly dropped to his knees, pulling the boy into his arms so tightly Sachiro squeaked at the suddenness of it.
“I-I don’t know, buddy,” he whispered into his son’s hair, his voice shaking so hard it hurt. “I don’t know what’s going to h-happen to us.”
“Dada, why you crying?”
“Because…” Satoru shut his eyes, inhaling sharply, “because I keep messing everything up. I-I can’t bring your mommy back. I’m sorry, Sachi. I’m so sorry I can’t give you the family you deserve. I… I failed you. I failed mommy and our baby. I’m so lost.”
Sachiro wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck like he was trying to hold him together even though he was too small to fix anything. “I’m here.”
Even his tiniest, most innocent gesture was enough to split Satoru open. Because after everything, after convincing himself, even for a fleeting moment, that he could be a perfect father to his kids, he was reminded over and over that he would never be.
He couldn’t even manage to be a decent husband, let alone a good man. A cheater. A coward. A pathetic excuse of a man who had ruined everything good that ever reached for him. He disgusted himself down to the marrow. He was a piece of shit, an asshole, a useless good-for-nothing scumbag—
The doorbell rang. Once.
Damn it!
Then, again.
God fucking dammit!
“Dada.” His son tugged at his shirt. “Someone’s at the door.”
Satoru stiffened, wiping his face with his sleeve. He wasn’t ready to face the police, not after he had just broken down in front of his son, and still drowning from the heartbreak of losing you. Couldn’t your father give him even a little bit of mercy and just let Sachiro stay the night?
Satoru felt like he was losing his mind.
The lock clicked. Footsteps crossed the threshold.
He turned toward the door with his heart pounding, Sachiro following him behind.
...
...
And there you were.
Standing with your bags, eyes red from crying, looking at him like there was never any other choice but him.
“God, I-I just want my family back! Please… Please, I’m s-sick of this! I’m fucking sick of it!” he choked out, his voice breaking as his fists hit the wall again and again, with each punch harder than the last. The plaster cracked and his knuckles throbbed, so much so that he wondered if he broke his hand, but he liked it that way. He wanted to feel it burn, wanted it to hurt because he deserved it, because maybe if it hurt enough, it would erase the never ending guilt crawling under his skin.
And he would’ve gone on like that if not for the tiny, fragile voice behind him. “Dada?”
That was the only thing that made Satoru freeze. He turned around to see Sachiro standing there in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and the other holding onto his teddy bear. He looked so small, so breakable, and his innocent gaze moved from the blood dripping down Satoru’s knuckles to the tears on his face.
“Are you… okay?”
Something in Satoru snapped then, not from anger this time but from the sight of his son looking at him like that. He quickly dropped to his knees, pulling the boy into his arms so tightly Sachiro squeaked at the suddenness of it.
“I-I don’t know, buddy,” he whispered into his son’s hair, his voice shaking so hard it hurt. “I don’t know what’s going to h-happen to us.”
“Dada, why you crying?”
“Because…” Satoru shut his eyes, inhaling sharply, “because I keep messing everything up. I-I can’t bring your mommy back. I’m sorry, Sachi. I’m so sorry I can’t give you the family you deserve. I… I failed you. I failed mommy and our baby. I’m so lost.”
I didn’t expect to get noticed aaaa, it’s so thrilling to know that my art managed to boost your interest back for the fic!
Honestly speaking, I just wanted to share my support and love for your work, but now I take pride by the fact I at least somehow rekindle that interest of yours to start writing for the fic once more. 😭🫶 (your fic motivated me to fight through my art block😆)
Thank you so much for noticing my artwork for your fic! I couldn’t help but share my sketch last week regarding the latest chapter— the ending scene has me hollering and kicking my feet. I’ll enjoy this chapter and scene for now, because I am so not ready for the next chapters knowing you…😖
I also drew Y/N’s dress from Shoko’s wedding, I think I did well? (I took it from your SY gallery, btw!) As well as Mama!Y/N hanging outside along with her son– with Papa!Satoru waiting for the two. (His silhouette can be seen, Sachiro’s facing him! It’s only his back shoulder, though, lol!) All are fashionista!
Anywho! Welcome back to the fic, dearie author! Happy writing and life. We and your readers will be waiting. 🩷
when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.
notes. 5k wc. please note that the last few sy chapters will be shorter than usual. but on another note, thank you for the kind comforting words on my last post. i’m very grateful for all of you.
series masterlist -> episode fourteen
“I’m pregnant,” you finally confessed, voice breaking as you watched the faint tears that slipped from Satoru’s eyes. “I don’t wanna have this baby.”
He should’ve known why. He should’ve seen it coming—should’ve expected the next words that would come out of your mouth after announcing your pregnancy.
Yet the admission, as firm as it sounded, still tore at your chest. And the silence that followed felt deafening. His gaze flickered to your stomach, then back to your face, searching for something—understanding, hope, or maybe a way to convince you otherwise. He also seemed to be struggling with the intense contradiction of his emotions, whether to celebrate your pregnancy or whether to be horrified by it.
That was why Satoru took a shaky breath as he reached out a hand. “Y/N,” he began, stepping closer to you, “Don’t say that. We… We can figure this out. Together. Please.”
Your whole body trembled at the irony of ending your own life soon as you announced the beginning of another. But at the moment, it felt right. That jumping into the vast space beyond you was the best choice—for him, for Sachiro, for the baby, and for yourself.
But seeing the father of your children at the verge of breaking down was shaking your resolve. All the guilt, the shame. You felt it all at once.
Satoru’s hands tightened around yours the moment he was able to reach you. And before you knew it, you were being pulled down, falling straight into him as he caught you perfectly in his arms. Like you were always meant to be there. “Y/N, please…” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks, ocean-blue eyes swimming with desperation. “I got you. Don’t do this. Don’t give up on this baby. Don’t give up on us.”
“I can’t, Satoru,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t bring a child into this mess. What kind of life could I possibly give them? What kind of life could we give them? I don’t even deserve to live.”
“You don’t understand, Y/N. Having you here with me right now is already the greatest blessing in my life,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as if afraid you’d slip further away. “I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll be there every step of the way. I’ll… I’ll be a good father. I know I’ve made mistakes, Y/N. I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But this—this is something I can do right. Let me prove it to you.”
You turned your face away, sobbing quietly. No, Satoru. It’s too late. You had heard of these same promises before, and only a fool would let herself believe it twice.
“Look at me, Y/N,” he pleaded. “Please, just look at me. I love you. I love this baby. And I’m not going to let you go through this alone. I don’t care how hard it gets—I’ll be here. I’ll stay. I’ll be the man you need me to be. And the man that I should’ve always been.”
His words hit you like a tidal wave, never once allowing you to breathe or call for his name. You were stuck underwater, fighting the strong current of emotions. Time and time again, and only Satoru Gojou was able to make you feel like this.
“I swear on everything, Y/N,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. I’ll fight for you, Sachi, and this baby every single day. Just… don’t make this decision now. Not like this.”
The vulnerability in his eyes and the sheer rawness of his plea made your heart ache. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you saw the Satoru you had once loved—the man who would have moved mountains for the woman he had vowed to cherish. The man who pulled everything he can just to bring happiness to the woman he adored.
Your chest tightened as the weight of your decision pressed down on you, and a shiver ran through your body as if you could feel your baby’s heartbeat. “Satoru…” you whispered, your voice trembling with the fragile thread of your emotions. “I’m…”
Before you could finish, the flood of guilt, sorrow, and exhaustion eventually overtook you. And his glistening blue eyes were the last thing you saw before the world blurred and you surrendered to the darkness.
— —
Satoru stood just outside the hospital room, leaning against the cold, white wall with his face buried in his hands. His heart was pounding and his thoughts were nothing but a chaotic mess. He had almost lost you—again. This time, in a way he hadn’t even anticipated.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and when he looked up, it was your older sister, Gen, who was walking toward him, her face a mix of concern and restrained anger. She stopped in front of him, crossing her arms and clearly displeased with his presence.
“She’s resting,” Gen informed him, her voice steady but sharp. “The doctor says she needs time. Physically, she’ll be fine, but mentally? I don’t know.”
Satoru nodded, his throat tightening. “I—I’m sorry, Gen. For everything.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. “I know I’ve been the worst. Back then, now… I never meant to hurt her.”
“I don’t even know what to say to you,” she replied in a haste and brutally honest manner. “First, my nephew, and now, my sister? Both of them were hospitalized because of you. All you do is bring in a series of bad luck to our family. Have some shame.”
He knew she was right, and he was ashamed. But despite the hurtful truth, he accepted it all. He was a martyr ready to take all the pain away, if it meant taking it from you and your children. “I know I messed up, Gen. And I don’t deserve another chance. But that doesn’t change the fact that I love her. That I will love her until the day I die.” His eyes pooled with genuine tears. “I just want to be here for her. She’s my life.”
Gen sighed, her arms falling to her sides. “Satoru, you say you love her. You say you care about her. But look where we are. She’s always been the one paying the price for your mistakes. Always getting the short end of the stick.” Her voice hardened, and her eyes narrowed. “And now? There’s a rumor about her because of you. Do you even know what that’s doing to her?”
He clenched his fists, his head hanging low. “I know. I saw it. I—I’m already drafting a statement. It’ll be released soon. I’ll clear her name, Gen. I’ll take full responsibility. I won’t let anyone drag her through the mud because of me.”
Gen studied him carefully, her expression softening slightly, though her voice remained firm. “Words are one thing, Satoru. Actions are another. She’s given up so much for you. Do you even realize how much of herself she’s lost?”
“I do,” he said, his shaken voice barely audible. “I see it every time I look at her. I see the woman I fell in love with slipping away, and it’s my fault. But I swear to you, Gen, I’ll fix this. I’ll do everything I can to keep her, to keep our family together. I’ll be the man she deserves, the father our kids deserve.”
Gen’s lips pressed into a thin line as she looked away, her gaze distant. “Love isn’t just words, Satoru. It’s not just showing up when things get hard. It’s being there even when things are mundane, even when she doesn’t need saving. It’s about choosing her, every single day. And you haven’t done that.”
Her words cut deep, but he took them all, letting them sink into his bones. He had been selfish, careless with the one person who mattered the most. And now, he was paying the price.
“But you’re still here.” Gen’s voice eventually softened, as if this situation couldn’t be saved anymore. “And she’s still here. I don’t know why, after everything, my sister still loves you… but she does. I wouldn’t want you for her, frankly. I’d rather she’d be single her entire life than be stuck with you. But I know her stubborn heart all too well. And if you really mean what you say, if you’re truly ready to step up and be the man she deserves, then prove it. You’d better mean that, Satoru. Because if you break her again… I don’t think there’ll be any pieces left to put back together.”
For a moment, silence hung between them, broken only by the muffled hum of the hospital. And in sincerity, Satoru nodded, tears welling in his eyes. This wasn’t exactly Gen forgiving him, this was her choosing what makes her sister happy. “I love her, Gen. I’ve always loved her. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”
——
A dull beeping sound echoed in your ears, steady and rhythmic, as the world around you slowly came back into focus. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled your nose, and the soft hum of distant voices murmured through the hospital walls. The fluorescent lights above were too bright, causing you to squint as you tried to take in your surroundings. White sheets, an IV drip, and the unmistakable cold of a hospital bed beneath your fingertips.
You were in the ER.
Memories of the day before hit you all at once—the weight of exhaustion, the way your body had given up on you mid-conversation, and Satoru’s voice calling your name just before everything faded to black.
A gentle warmth enveloped your hand. You turned your head slightly, heart skipping a beat when you saw Satoru sitting beside you. His snow-white hair was disheveled, his usually confident demeanor subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes suggesting how little he had rested.
“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. There was relief laced in his tone, but also something heavier. He reached out, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. “How do you feel?”
“Fine.” You swallowed, your throat dry. “How’s my… baby?”
For someone who said she wanted to get rid of her unborn child, your concern put a relief on Satoru’s face. “Baby’s okay,” he admitted, his thumb absently tracing circles on your belly. “You passed out, and they brought you here to monitor you. But you’re okay now. The doctor said you were just exhausted. You’re being discharged soon.”
Your mind was sluggish, still struggling to process everything. But then, the most important thought struck you.
“Sachiro,” you breathed, fear clawing its way up your throat. One after another. “His surgery—”
Satoru squeezed your hand gently, stopping you before your panic could take hold. “It was a success.” His lips curled into a small, tired smile. “While you were resting, everything went well. The doctors said it was a textbook procedure—no complications. He’s stable, recovering in the suite room now.”
“H-He’s okay?” Your voice broke on the last word, and Satoru nodded.
“He’s okay.”
A choked sob left your lips as you covered your face with your hands, overwhelmed. After everything, after all the sleepless nights and the heart-wrenching fear of losing your first born, he had made it through. At his young age, having to suffer such a complicated heart disease was something he didn’t deserve, but truly, he was a strong kid. And for that, you were grateful.
Satoru didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, grounding you, anchoring you. “Y/N,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your temple. “Sachi’s strong. He got it from his mommy.”
You let yourself melt into him for a moment, closing your eyes and breathing him in. You didn’t know what this meant for the both of you—if anything had changed, if anything ever could. But for now, none of that mattered.
All that mattered was that Sachiro was waiting for you.
Satoru pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your arms. “Do you wanna go see him?”
You met his gaze, eyes still shining with unshed tears, and nodded. “Yeah.”
——
Down the pristine white halls, past nurses and doctors bustling about their duties, your feet carried you with a singular purpose while Satoru walked beside you, his pace matching yours.
And then—there.
Room 721.
You hesitated only for a second before pushing the door open, breath catching the moment your eyes landed on Sachiro. Your poor son. Your poor little boy lay in the hospital bed, looking small and fragile against the white sheets. Tubes and wires were attached to him, aside from the steady beeping of the monitors that signaled his heart’s vitals. A ventilator was also there to help him breathe, and his tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm was a sight that both reassured and shattered you at the same time.
“Sachi,” you whispered sweetly, stepping closer. “Mommy’s here, baby.”
Your fingers trembled as you brushed his hair back, careful not to disturb any of the medical equipment. He was still asleep, sedated for recovery, but his face was peaceful—far more peaceful than the nights you’d spent watching him struggle.
Behind you, Satoru stood motionless. His normally vibrant eyes were dulled with exhaustion, his face gaunt from two days without sleep. Yet, despite it all, he remained standing, his entire being focused on Sachiro.
The next few hours passed in a blur. Your family surrounded you, offering support, love, and quiet reassurances. Nurses came and went, checking on Sachiro’s vitals, updating you on his condition. The visiting hours brought waves of people—friends, colleagues, even some of Satoru’s acquaintances who had come to check on him.
But through it all, Satoru never moved.
While conversations hummed around him, while people embraced and whispered their worries, he remained by Sachiro’s bedside. His hand rested on his son’s small fingers, his thumb occasionally brushing against his skin.
He didn’t speak much. Didn’t react to the noise around him.
He just… watched.
Watched the slow rise and fall of his child’s chest. Watched the way the monitors flickered with steady readings. Watched the way his son fought to live.
And even as the hours stretched, as your family said their goodbyes, as the night deepened and visiting hours ended—Satoru remained.
His exhaustion was evident. The bags under his eyes had darkened, his shoulders heavy with weariness. But when a nurse suggested he get some rest, he merely shook his head.
“I’m not leaving him.”
And so, he stayed.
With red-rimmed eyes and a body begging for sleep, Satoru Gojou sat beside his son, never once looking away.
You could see the torment in his eyes as he looked at Sachiro, the helplessness of a father who could do nothing but watch. You just couldn’t bear the silence any longer, so you finally spoke. “Satoru… just go home.”
He froze at the sound of your voice, as if caught off guard, but quickly shook his head and wrapped your belly under a warm blanket. “Did I wake you up?”
“I can look after Sachi by myself,” you urged, disregarding his question. “You need to rest.”
But again, he refused. “No.”
“But—”
You opened your mouth to speak again, to reason with him, but before you could, Satoru’s voice cut through the air, breaking in a way you had never heard before. “Y/N, let me be a father to my kids… Please.” His voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling out as he looked at the ceiling with somber, tearful eyes. It was the heartbreak in his voice that made you realize that you were the only family Satoru had left. And it was the tremor in his hands that made you see through the trauma he had developed after he was led to believe for three years that his son had never existed. In a way, you felt responsible for the pain you had caused him, too. “Just please let me love you and our babies. Don’t take them away from me.”
For a moment, silence became your friend. Yet, the quiet that enveloped the room was more of a tender moment suspended in time as you let Satoru embrace you in his arms. You both remained there, connected by the warmth of his hand over yours, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath. He caressed your belly as if you were going to take his baby away—that if he closed his eyes, even for a second, he would wake up to see his unborn child gone.
But then, a soft knock on the door shattered the stillness.. Satoru’s grip on your hand loosened as the nurse poked her head into the room with an apologetic expression on display.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. and Mrs. Gojou,” she began, her voice quiet and gentle, “but you have a visitor.” Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly, but before he could ask, the nurse continued, “Her name is Ms. Akemi.”
At the mention of her name, he immediately sat up, his body tense as he instinctively prepared to stand. You felt the shift in his demeanor, the way his hand slipped from yours as he moved to the edge of the bed. You stayed still for a minute, processing the sudden change, and your heart sinking at the thought of yet another intrusion by her.
You took a deep breath as you began to pull away, already bracing yourself for what was to come, and for the inevitable exit he would make. Like always. Choosing another woman over you. Choosing another woman over his own child. Of course, that’s what he’s about to do, right? You started to gather the strength to let him go, to retreat back into your thoughts, until the nurse spoke again.
“Oh… Actually,” she said, her eyes flicking between you both, “Miss Akemi wants to see you, Ms. Y/N… not Mr. Gojou.”
——
Two things about this moment caught you off guard. First, Satoru’s sudden overprotectiveness—firmly insisting to the nurse that Akemi had no right to call for you again and that you shouldn’t be meeting her just to “talk.” And second, the fact that Akemi actually wanted to see you.
What was the catch?
What was her motive?
You wondered if this was going to be another Sera moment.
And you knew, even if your mind told you that you owed Akemi nothing, you were still curious about what she had to say. Would she demand Satoru’s time that you were taking from her? Or was she about to make a scene and call you a homewrecker?
Strangely, of all the places, Akemi wanted to meet you at the hospital chapel.
She was already there when you came, sitting at the last row amongst the empty pews, staring at the altar as if her brown eyes were glued to the massive cross in the center. In her solitude, you silently slipped into the opposite side of the pew, not exchanging any eye-contact until she noticed your presence.
When she turned, she seemed startled to see you. “Y/N.”
You said nothing, only staring at the cross in front of you.
“I was just…” She trailed off, glancing toward the altar before looking back at you. “I was praying for Sachiro. I heard his surgery was a success.”
Your arms crossed over your chest, but your voice was steady. “It was.”
“I’m glad.” A small, genuine smile plastered over her lips. “I really am. He’s a strong boy… just like his mom.”
A scoff threatened to rise in your throat, but you swallowed it down. You weren’t here to fight. Not anymore. Not when you were far too grateful for Sachiro’s successful operation to still be holding grudges on others. But that didn’t mean you had to fake being happy next to Akemi. All you did was nod in appreciation.
But Akemi hesitated, then spoke again about what seemed to be her main concern of going here. “Has Satoru been here? I mean… all this time?”
“Yes.” A pause. A flicker of something unreadable crossed her expression, but your rigid expression appeared to have intimidated her. “If you’re here to ask him to go home with you, then—”
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You blinked. Of all the things you expected, an apology wasn’t one of them.
“For everything,” she continued. “For being with Satoru even when I knew who you were to him. For pretending I didn’t see the way he looked at you, the way he still loved you. I was selfish. I let my delusions get to me, thinking that he’s exactly who I needed in my life to feel whole again.” She then let out a bitter laugh, one that lacked amusement. “You don’t know this, but I used to envy you. Your life. Your place in his heart. The way you had people around you. The way he loved you… The way you have a beautiful son and an equally beautiful husband. I wanted that for myself. I thought if I tried hard enough, if I gave him everything, if I tried to be like you, maybe he’d love me the same way.” Her voice wavered. “But no matter how much time passed, it always felt like he was looking past me. Like he was imagining someone else by his side. And I knew. I always knew.”
You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the edge of the pew. You weren’t expecting to hear all of those things from her. Not after everything that had happened.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Akemi admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. “But I needed to say this. Because I know you’re not happy that Satoru’s been visiting me, too. At least, until he ended things officially between us. And probably until he learned about your pregnancy… Is it true?”
Your breath hitched, but you remained still.
“The baby’s a blessing, Y/N.” She lifted her chin, meeting your eyes with quiet resignation. “It’s exactly what I had hoped for myself… but I’m sick. I’m critically ill. Stage three endometrial cancer, to be exact.”
For the first time, something shifted in you. Shock. Pity. Confusion. You ended up returning her gaze—her lachrymose brown eyes that seemed to envy your entire being.
“H-He feels bad for me,” she continued, her voice softer now. “That’s why he’s been coming back and forth. He doesn’t love me—not the way I wanted—but he can’t turn away from someone who’s suffering. That’s who he is.”
You looked away, pressing your lips together, not knowing how to navigate a conversation with the sick friend who betrayed you.
“I don’t expect anything from him anymore. And I don’t expect anything from you, either.” Akemi’s lips curved into a sad smile. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m letting go. Of him. Of the past. Of everything.”
You held your breath back.
“I hope, one day, you can forgive him. Maybe even me. I know I lost a good friendship because of my bad decisions.”
She turned towards you, reaching for your hand that she soon softly squeezed. In that millisecond, you caught a glimpse of Nanami standing by the door, seemingly waiting for Akemi to finish her last words with you.
“Take care of him, Y/N. And take care of yourself.”
——
When you returned to the room, Satoru was pacing back and forth, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his jaw clenched in barely restrained nerves. The second he caught sight of you in the doorway, his shoulders sagged with relief, but his expression remained taut with worry.
“Y/N,” he exhaled, striding toward you in a rush. “What did she say? Was she rude to you? Did she—”
You didn’t let him finish.
Before he could spiral further, you grabbed him by the collar and silenced him with a firm kiss.
For a brief, stunned moment, he stiffened—his breath catching against your lips. Then, just as quickly, he melted into you, hands coming up to cradle your face as if you’d disappear if he let go. His lips moved over yours, not demanding, not desperate—just seeking, just holding.
When you finally pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes still half-lidded with dazed confusion.
“Stop overthinking,” you murmured, fingers gently brushing the nape of his neck.
Satoru swallowed hard, searching your face for answers. “Y/N…”
But a soft noise from the hospital bed cut the moment short. Both your heads snapped toward Sachiro, who was stirring beneath the sheets, and his tiny fingers twitching as his eyelids fluttered open.
Satoru let out a shaky laugh, a watery grin spreading across his face as he rushed to his son’s side. “Hey, Sachi,” he choked out. “You’re awake.”
You moved closer, blinking away the sudden sting in your eyes as Sachiro groggily turned to look at both of you. “My baby…”
“Mama…? Dada…?” His voice was weak, but the way he reached for both of you made your chest ache.
You took his small hand in yours, pressing it against your cheek as Satoru smoothed down his hair, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “We’re here, baby,” you whispered. “We’re right here. How are you feeling, my sunshine?”
The nurses came shortly after, and then his doctor also took a visit. According to him, Sachiro showed good signs of recovery and ordered the medical staff to remove the devices attached to your son one by one as his progress looked promising. Soon enough, with the doctor’s advice, Sachiro could even start his rehab to be able to resume his normal activities. Everything you were hearing were positive outcomes, nothing but good news. You couldn’t help but feel as if things were too good to be true, and wondered if there was anything substantially bigger that’d come and wreck you.
The father of your child seemed to have noticed the moment you became silent, swallowed by the anxious thought of what was to come, and he came to wrap his arms around you, securing you in his embrace, and rubbing your belly from behind.
You could see the nurses noticing your little display of affection and so you tried to push Satoru off, but he didn’t budge. He only held you tighter and buried his face into your shoulder.
“Let me just recharge here for a bit,” he mumbled, as though you were the battery that was giving him energy. “Just let me hold you, please.”
——
You hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room yet, and the only real chance to do so came the following night, when Sachiro’s nanny took over in the suite. She kept you updated on his condition, while you—following your doctor’s advice—chose to finally get some proper rest at home.
But knowing your family, they’d bombard you with questions about Satoru the moment you walked through the door. Maybe that’s why you agreed to his suggestion—to stay the night at the penthouse. The same home you once shared as husband and wife.
Was it a rash decision? An impulsive one? Maybe exhaustion had driven you here, standing under the warm stream of his shower as he waited outside. It was strange how comforting this place still felt. How familiar, yet mind-warping it was. This was the same home where he had slept with Akemi. How could you feel both at ease and deeply unsettled?
By the time you stepped out, you stood in front of the vanity mirror, drying your hair as your gaze fell to your barely noticeable bump. You weren’t showing just yet, and knew that there was still time to decide. Did you want this baby? Keeping it meant Satoru would be even more tied to you. Letting it go meant sparing it from a toxic environment and the possibility of inheriting your heart condition.
Lost in thought, you barely heard Satoru’s knock before he entered, carrying your old pajamas. Without a word, he helped you into them with quiet care, his touch gentle but respectfully distant. He guided you like a loving husband would to his pregnant wife, up until you were settled under the warm duvet of your old bed, where he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Is there anything you want for breakfast?” he asked, “Anything you’re craving? Lemon bars? PB&J? I can run to the grocery store now if you want.”
His reminder of your old pregnancy cravings squeezed at your heart. It took you back to the days where you were immensely, unselfishly in love with him. “It’s almost midnight.”
“I’d do anything for you and baby.”
Maybe this was his way to consume you with guilt, knowing you still haven’t really decided if you wanted to keep the baby, yet here he was doing his everything just to show you how he wanted to care for his youngest. Would you be too cruel to ruin his fantasy?
“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he murmured when he didn’t get any answer. “Call me if you need me.”
“Wait.” You regretted your words the moment you opened your mouth. “Stay.”
Because why? Just why did you ask him to stay? Why did you want him beside you? Why did you enjoy his warmth and his presence and his love? This was the same man who wrecked you to shreds, to pieces. How could you betray yourself and still trust him?
You didn’t need the answer right now, all you needed was Satoru’s gentle gaze, his careful embrace, and the way he caressed your face as he joined you in bed. You could tell he wanted to try for a kiss, but decided not to cross any lines you weren’t comfortable with.
“I’m dreaming, am I?” he asked, seemingly musing at the thought.
You sighed. “I’d hope so.”
“Y/N.” His voice was soft as he said your name. “I love you.”
It’s been three years since I started reading your work— how many times have I already reread? More than 20th times, that’s for sure. I really love the overall story despite all the heartbreaks, you’ve captivated me with the way you write the characters and how the story flows.
As a gift, I wanted to share my quick doodle from the characters of your work— Satoru, Pregnant!Y/N and their absolutely cutie of a baby, Sachiro! I gave the three their own matching earrings— a seashell. Resilience, protection and pilgrimages. The ability to endure and grow through life’s challenges, I think this is very fitting of Satoru and Y/N’s story.
I cannot wait to devour the remaining chapters— I’m just hoping it doesn’t cause me another devasting feeling like the previous season. I’ll die, literally. (Kidding)
All those aside, I’m hoping you are recovering and doing well in life, dearie author. Whatever you are facing right now, I hope you pass and work through it. You’re strong. 🩷🫶
oh woooow thank you for this my dear 🥹 you have the talent i wish i had. i love this so much! and funny thing is, i had been thinking of sy!gojoyn for a few days now (satoru’s haunting me lol) and this precious gift seems to be a sign for me to revisit this universe :’) thank you for the support and for loving the series the way you do <33 i do hope that one day i get to finally give readers the closure you all deserve 😭
pairings. cloud strife x tifa lockhart (ffvii: advent children)
tags. 1.4k wc, post-AC, affectionate cloud, domestic fluff, slice of life, pre-established relationship, self-indulgent cloti fic honestly i just love them. divider by anitalenia.
“Tifa, wake uuuup!”
“Wake up, Tifaaa!”
The morning started with an unusual chaos from Marlene and Denzel, both bursting into her room with a lopsided breakfast tray and two proud grins—toast sliding dangerously close to the edge, eggs slightly overcooked, and orange juice trembling in its glass.
Tifa blinked herself awake and accepted it like it was the finest banquet in the world. “Good morning, you two,” she said with a fond smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “What’s all this about?”
Marlene beamed, almost bouncing on her feet. “It’s for you!”
“Me?”
Denzel cleared his throat, his shyness a resemblance of a particular blond with spiky hair, “Because you’re… well you’re our Tifa.”
She let out a small chuckle, tilting her head. “What did I do to deserve all this?”
“It’s Mother’s Day,” Marlene announced as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh…” Right. Mother’s Day. She wasn’t their mother—not in the way that counted by blood, but she had been there. She had fed them, worried over them, stayed up at night when they were sick, listened when they were sad. And somewhere along the way, she’d started thinking of them as hers. Theirs. After everything she’d lost, after all the empty spaces left behind, she couldn’t imagine her life without them.
“Well… thank you, both of you.” Tifa leaned down, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “If this is how my day starts, I think it’s already perfect.”
––
When she came down to the bar, Cloud was already waiting by the door in his riding jacket. “You’re coming with me today.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Where to?”
“You’ll see. Jacket.” His tone left no room for protest, but his eyes were warm.
And so, while she was on Fenrir with her arms snugly around him, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly the start of something new. It had been a month—or probably two—since Denzel had recovered from Geostigma, since Cloud had begun to forgive himself for the things he couldn’t change. But Tifa had been patient, as she always was, never forcing him forward, never demanding more than he could give. She knew grief didn’t vanish; it lingered in shards and shadows, waiting for moments of weakness to resurface. Relapse was always a possibility.
But as the road stretched ahead, and his steady presence anchored her in place, she trusted that he would always come home now. That he wouldn’t run from her, from them, again. And for Tifa, that was enough.
“You okay there?” Cloud called out, the rumble of the engine almost canceling the sound of his voice. Halfway through the ride, he reached one hand down from the handlebars and found hers where it was looped around his waist, interlacing fingers without a word.
Tifa blinked at the gesture. “I’m okay.”
They stopped at a rise in the countryside, where tall grass swayed under the sun. The air smelled fresh here, untouched by smoke and steel that clouded over Edge. The fields were in bloom, dotted with small white flowers. Cloud steered Fenrir onto a dirt path that led to the perfect spot overlooking the horizon.
“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured in a quiet awe. Her gaze swept over the scene before her—the sky brushed in soft gold, the horizon kissed by the last rays of the setting sun. She couldn’t remember when she had last seen such a vibrant sunset.
She didn’t see the way Cloud was looking at her. To him, the view wasn’t really the landscape, but her. The light in her eyes, the unguarded and peaceful smile on her face. It struck him more deeply than any sight nature could offer.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes glued to the woman before him. “Beautiful.”
While she basked in the warm glow of the setting sun, Cloud was already moving with quiet purpose. From Fenrir’s side compartment, he pulled out a small box, wrapped simply in plain paper, the edges neatly folded as if he’d taken his time to make it just right.
“Tifa,” he called softly and held it out to her. “For you.”
Her brows knit in surprise as she accepted it, carefully peeling away the paper to reveal a silver heart locket. As she opened it, she found two photographs—on one side, Marlene and Denzel smiling together, and on the other, a candid shot of all four of them, their little patchwork family caught in a moment of unguarded joy. In that moment, her chest tightened. But maybe in a good way. The thing was, the locket was more than jewelry—it was something to remind her, every single day, that this was her home, her family, her reason to keep going.
“Cloud, this is…” Her voice faltered, trembling with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Gratitude, yes, but also disbelief. She had never expected something like this from him. Not a gift. Not a gesture so personal.
He stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. His hand lingered for just a moment. “You’ve been such a great mom to them,” he said quietly. “You keep all of us together. And I don’t say it enough, but… I cherish you for it.”
Words weren’t needed. Cloud had never been one for long speeches, and she had long since learned that his silence often carried more meaning than anything spoken aloud. Still, he knew better than to let the moment pass without showing her—without letting her feel—that she meant far more to him than she could ever guess. And one best way to do it was to lean in, close the space between them, and press his lips to hers. It was soft at first, tentative in the way only Cloud could be, but it deepened quickly, his arm sliding around her waist to draw her closer.
He kissed her again. And again. Not because the first hadn’t been enough, but because he couldn’t stop himself. They didn’t do this often. Hardly ever, in fact, and maybe that was why it felt so consuming now, as if every unspoken thing between them was being poured into the spaces where their mouths met.
And somewhere in that haze of breathless closeness, Tifa’s mind wandered in a way that almost made her want to laugh. What was Cloud Strife to her, exactly? The father to their adopted kids, though they weren’t a couple? The man she lived with but hadn’t married? The partner she shared a home and responsibilities with, yet whose heart was still something of a mystery? Whatever the word for it was, she knew one thing—he was hers, in ways no label could fully capture.
“Happy Mother’s Day, Tifa.”
––
When they rolled back to Edge later that afternoon, they walked hand-in-hand until they returned to Seventh Heaven. Cloud held her hand a little too tightly, and Tifa’s cheeks were a tinge of pink from the wind and from him.
Marlene and Denzel stopped dead in their tracks at the kitchen doorway, eyes widening as they took in the sight before them—their guardians, standing close, fingers intertwined. Technically speaking, Cloud was a parent to Denzel, and Marlene still had Barret. But right now, none of that seemed to matter.
“Are you two holding hands?” Marlene asked, her grin stretching ear to ear, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Tifa chuckled, giving Cloud’s hand a little squeeze. “We are, sweetie.”
Cloud, ever the master of subtle deflection, gestured toward the kitchen table. “Wanna show Mom your letters?”
The air stilled for a moment. Both kids blinked at him, and Tifa felt her own breath catch.
Denzel’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Did you just call Tifa our mom mom?”
“Well, isn’t she?” Cloud replied, feigning nonchalance. But Tifa noticed the faint blush creeping up the curve of his ear, betraying him. “Go on, get the letters.”
The kids darted off with renewed excitement and their giggles trailing behind them. Before they could return, Tifa tugged gently on Cloud’s hand, pulling him just close enough to press a kiss against his cheek. “I could get used to this.”
“To what?” He glanced at her lips, then her deep red eyes.
“This. Us. Taking care of two kids, and you.”
“Tell me that again when it’s not just two kids anymore,” he said, a faint smirk lifting on the corner of his lips.
amidst the tale of sweetest love and bitterest revenge, the fallen empress is cast back ten years into the past to correct her sins and avoid eternal damnation, even at the price of betraying her once husband, the very cause of her downfall.
♱ pairings. gojo satoru, fem!reader
♱ genre. enemies-to-lovers, period piece, medieval au
♱ tags. ooc, regression, crown prince!gojo, noble lady!reader, politics, classism, clan wars, religion (catholicism), misogyny, violence, war, rebellion, suggestive, smut, gore, double life, explicit language, more to be added
♱ notes. this fic draws heavy inspirations from the webnovel ‘sister, i am the queen in this life’ and manhwa of the same name. it’s basically a fanfic of that series bc i am obsessed with it :’D
♱ status. on-going (slow updates)
♱ SECOND TIMELINE TO AS YOU LIKE IT ♱
PROLOGUE.
ACT I. THE LADY
ACT II. THE CROWN PRINCE
ACT III. THE KNIGHT
ACT IV. THE STAR CROSSED LOVERS
ACT V. THE BLESSED
ACT VI. THE SIN
ACT VII. THE REVELATION
ACT VIII. THE ENEMY
ACT IX. THE LOVER
ACT X. THE EMPRESS
EPILOGUE.
PROLOGUE
Like plunging beneath the surface of water and then, abruptly, breaking through to the air above—your body jolted as if awakening in a new world altogether. You drew in a long breath, your eyes fluttering open to reveal the ceiling, both familiar yet unfamiliar in its greeting. Swiftly, you surveyed your surroundings, noting with growing recognition the confines of your old room within the De Roma estate. The estate!
You were not in the palace of Caelum, but in the estate of House De Roma. A surge of realization flooded through you as you dashed towards the nearest mirror, confronting your reflection with wide, startled eyes.
No... could it be... that you have returned to your body, ten years prior?!
In the mirror, the reflection staring back at you was not that of the notorious wife of the tyrant Emperor Satoru, but of a 20-year-old maiden, the eldest daughter of Duke de Roma, with fuller cheeks and a more youthful appearance. You could not shake the feeling of disbelief, wondering if this was all just a dream, so you reached out to touch your arms and felt the flesh beneath your fingers, trying to convince yourself that this was an unexpected reality.
Oh, you were back. You found yourself returned to your former self, a decade younger, but now armed with the knowledge of your past life's actions and their consequences. Alongside this newfound understanding, the gift of clairvoyance had also been bestowed upon you.
And for what? Why had the heavens above returned you to your body? Was it for revenge, a second chance, or perhaps punishment?
Suddenly, a loud, deafening sound pierced your ears, and a blinding white light enveloped your vision. Your body became as still as a statue, and it felt as though your soul was transported to a fourth dimension where divine intervention seemed a lot more plausible to exist.
As your soul hovered in the liminal space between life and death, you found yourself standing before a figure cloaked in billowing robes, her presence commanding and her gaze piercing. This figure was Fortuna, the ancient Caelan goddess of fortune and fate, her visage austere and unforgiving.
“Are you aware of the sins that stain your soul?”
“Have you felt the weight of your transgressions, the consequences of your actions that have wrought suffering upon your people and brought ruin to your empire?”
Her voice echoed through the realm with the divine judgment that weighed upon your conscience, while her gaze penetrated to the core of your being and demanded honesty and accountability in the face of your past misdeeds.
“Will you atone for your sins?”
“Will you seize this opportunity for redemption, or will you squander it in self-pity and remorse?”
As you stood in the presence of the ancient goddess, grappling with the heaviness of your sins and the daunting task ahead, a brilliant light had all of a sudden illuminated the space around you. From the heart of this radiant glow emerged the figure of Archangel Raphael, his presence heralded by a chorus of angelical voices and the stirring of celestial winds.
Clad in robes that seemed to shimmer with the intensity of celestial light, Archangel Raphael's presence commanded attention, his wings unfurled behind him in a display of resolute authority. If Goddess Fortuna was intimidating, the archangel was fearsome all the more. His gaze, intense and penetrating, swept over you with a gravity that left no room for evasion or deceit.
“Empress of Caelum,” he spoke, his tone firm and unyielding, and his voice carrying a billion years of heavenly existence, “You stand accused of grievous sins, crimes that have shaken the very foundations of your empire and brought suffering upon your people.”
There was no trace of softness in Archangel Raphael's demeanor, no room for mercy in the face of wrongdoing. His presence was a testament to the uncompromising nature of divine justice, his strictness a reflection of the solemn duty entrusted to him as an Archangel of the Almighty. This, no doubt, was the face of a true and formidable executor of justice.
And you, the subject, had angered the divine beings that guarded the Caelan Empire, so much so that God himself sent the goddess of the land and one of his archangels to mitigate your rightful punishment.
“By the decree of the Almighty, you are granted a second chance to amend your sins and redeem your soul. You shall return to the mortal realm, to live your life anew and correct the sins that have stained your soul.”
“Should you fail to rectify your past transgressions, should you stray from the path of righteousness and succumb once more to the temptations of darkness, know that the consequences shall be severe and eternal.”
“For those who squander the gift of divine mercy shall be cast into the deepest depths of hell, where they shall endure a punishment of unending torment and suffering.”
In the presence of Archangel Raphael and Goddess Fortuna’s equally stern gazes, you were keenly aware of the magnitude of your transgressions and the severity of the judgment that awaited you. But even as you trembled beneath the weight of their scrutiny, you knew that their presence also offered you the opportunity for redemption, with your only task to prove yourself worthy of divine mercy.
Indeed, it was by your very hands that hundreds and thousands of Christian souls shed their blood. Innocent lives, both young and old, were cruelly taken at your command. The citizens of Caelum who fell sick from the spread of the plague. The esteemed Caelan advisors of your husband’s primogenitors, skinned alive and speared in pikes by the Tiber River. The wrongly accused maid who suffered the indignity of serving your husband, paraded unclothed through the streets and subjected to the brutality of the pear of anguish. The gallant and dignified knight, tortured mentally and physically in the atrocious dungeon. Now, you find yourself thrust back into the horrors of your former life ten years hence. A life of a noble lady who ought not to be blinded by her destructive love for the empire’s crown prince.
Yet, could you truly navigate this life without ascending to the position as his empress?
As you tried to commune with the divine beings afore you, a haze in your vision transported you away from the heavenly space, realizing that you were already drawn back into the reality of your chamber, inhabiting the youthful frame of a twenty-year-old daughter of a duke. You found yourself too astonished to move, too shaken to speak, and too afraid to take any action in this new lease of life blessed upon you. At that very moment, your state of reverie was disrupted at the arrival of your maid, who entered your chamber in a humble servant garb.
Milena. The maid whose life was cut short by your hand in your past existence due to petty thievery. “My lady,” she spoke with a hint of respect and urgency, unaware of the ill-fate you had given her in your past life, “A visitor has arrived at the gates and requests an audience with you. Shall I show them in?”
Too soon? Need it truly be so soon to engage with the people from your past life immediately after awakening to your old, yet younger body? Gazing upon your maid through the mirror, you asked, “Who is that intruder you speak of?”
She bowed her head, her stance shifting into one of apologetic deference. The way she firmly stood by your door was a message to you that the intruder was not someone you could easily reject the presence of.
“The visitor is His Highness, Crown Prince Satoru.”
bound by the dictates of the prophecy, the emperor contemplates whether retaining his wife or severing ties with her may be the sole path to fulfill his ambitions. yet, what he may fail to discern, is that the plague in his reign lies beyond what meets the eye
♱ genre. tragedy, revenge, period piece, renaissance au
♱ tags. 26k wc, extremely ooc, tyranny, emperor!gojo, empress!reader, (they are both insane!), unrequited love, religion (especially catholicism), blasphemy, mentions of infidelity, violence, war, rebellion, misogyny, impregnation, smut, disease, gore, death, arson
♱ notes. heavily inspired by anne boleyn's real-life story, and manhwas sister, i am the queen in this life and ten ways to get dumped by a tyrant, as well as shakespeare’s king henry V. direct quotes also derived from the movie the king. finally, the modern english version is here, and it is long overdue T-T
♱ FIRST TIMELINE OF LONG LIVE THE VILLAINESS ♱
EARLY MODERN ENGLISH -> MODERN ENGLISH VERSION
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
SATORU, Emperor of Caelum.
YOU, of the same order.
SUGURU, knight commander of the Imperial Order of Knights.
TOJI, Emperor of Astheryn.
NAOYA, a duke, cousin to Toji.
GENEVA, nurse to the empress.
MAXIMILIAN, advisor to the Caelan Emperor.
NANAMI, a nobleman.
The Pope.
FRIAR MYCHAL, a Franciscan.
A maid.
A physician.
The Oracle.
Citizens of Astheryn and Caelum; kinsfolk of both empires; the Imperial Court, Nobles, Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
PROLOGUE
In fair Caelum, an emperor reigns,
A throne usurped through blood and disdain.
Beside him, an Empress fair did stand,
Her love unmet, her heart unmanned.
No heir has graced their union still,
Her womb remains a barren field,
His anger thus come veiled in scorn,
To seek another, and secure his throne.
In this tale of sorrow, rage, and might,
Where empires clash and fates alight,
We delve into a world both dark and bright,
Where love and power wage their ceaseless fight.
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
THE LATE 15TH CENTURY
ACT I
Only slightly did you loosen up as the sequence of your steps were taken in slow but measured strides. Each footfall had a rhythm that was neither lacking in confidence nor hesitance, with your heels clicking on the marble floors and the sound of it echoing along the spacious hallway as if to remind every person within the vicinity that the Empress was arriving. You held your breath much to the tightness of your corset and tried to keep your emotions intact, taking a halt from walking knowing that your ladies-in-waiting were tailing you closely behind.
Two valiant knights stood by his door, offering a curtsy to their Empress the minute you had crossed their eyes. A knock on the door followed. Then, soon enough, you were granted a step forward inside your husband’s study.
There he was, ensconced behind his desk amid copious piles of paperwork, his attention undivided by the woman who graced his study with her presence. His locks, reminiscent of Arctic snow, were meticulously arranged, accentuated by the resplendent black doublet he donned, and adorned with intricate silver patterns upon the brocade cloth. His eyes, as blue as the sky and oceans alike, declined to meet the gaze of his own wife.
“What is your purpose?” he uttered.
Meanwhile, you made a swift curtsy and motioned for the attendants and knights to depart away, leaving the two of you alone. “I would like to have a word with you, Your Majesty.”
His countenance appeared to congeal as he fixed his gaze upon you for several discomfiting moments. “Of what matter?”
“Regarding the New Year’s banquet, my dear husband. It is due in a fortnight, and preparations must be set into motion.” You stood squarely before him, hands entwined before you. A regal presence. A queenly figure, fashioned precisely to his desires. Such was the image the empire had embraced since your ascension to the throne. Before him stood the epitome of grace suited to that role. “What do you say our theme should be?”
He closed the ledger he had been inscribing on, scrutinizing your features intently. “As you know, I dislike such events, but this banquet is an avoidable obligation.” His gaze shifted towards your gown that was meticulously crafted to complement your form. It was adorned with the same elaborate embroidery as his own attire, and accented by a sizable silver cross adorning your neck like the good Christian you were. “The people are starting to notice how grand our affairs are becoming; therefore, I prefer to avoid any unnecessary extravagance that might cause a stir. Let it be lavish enough to uphold our standing, yet not overly flamboyant,” he paused, “As for the theme, black and silver will be fitting to complement our regalia.”
The Caelum regalia, once bedecked in innocent hues of white and blue, underwent a somber transformation to black and silver upon his ascension to the throne. Behind this alteration lay a tragic tale. Satoru, the man whom you addressed as husband, had first borne the title of Crown Prince before ascending to the imperial seat. His younger sister, the infamous maiden who met her demise alongside her lover, was bound to an ill-fated romance that purportedly quelled an age-old enmity between two ancestral foes.
The forbidden romance between a scion of a Zen'in and a scioness of a Gojou, both of princely lineage, ignited strife between the Astheryn and Caelum Empires. With half a century of animosity between these bloodlines, a lust for supremacy, and an unyielding clash between nations, the discord erupted into a civil strife, ceasing solely with the ratification of a peace accord by the sovereigns of both empires.
Yet before all these tumultuous events unfolded, Satoru’s ascent to the highest throne owed much to you. Though you were not his intended betrothed, you were a lady deeply enamored with the prince; with whom he divulged myriad fervent nights with. As the daughter of a duke whose lineage boasted mastery in the craft of forging fine swords and weaponry, and so well-versed in the art of warfare, he saw you fit to stand as his empress, prepared to reciprocate your erstwhile unrequited love through means of marriage. However, this accord came at the cost of you aiding him in his quest to unseat both his father and mother from their thrones. He loathed his parents just as strongly as he did Astheryn. The rulers preceding him were despotic tyrants, showing scant regard for kinship ties, and they exhibited no sorrow for the passing of the princess, which was a loss deeply felt by Satoru.
Satoru carried ambitions of ascending to the august throne of Caelum from a tender age, and he was unwilling to await the natural demise of his father for ascension and instead, do it by means of force. He was prepared to imbue his hands with his own kindred’s blood to sit at the highest throne, yet such a feat was no trifling matter. The civil unrest presented the opportune moment to execute his plans, spurred on all the more by his sister’s untimely demise. With your military affiliations and strategic acumen, you aided him in orchestrating a coup d’état against his own kin. Ending it all with him, severing his father’s head with a sword, and you, killing his mother with poison. His other oppositions followed, and those who did not support his cause were offered a swift journey to hell through mass execution. Throughout these macabre events, you stood steadfast by his side, currying favor with the surviving nobility to fortify his position as emperor. Identifying traitors, you presented them for his judgment. In due course, you became his most trusted confidante, the sole woman deemed worthy to stand beside him on the day of his coronation, heralding the dawn of a new era for the empire. Thus, a new nation, a new sovereignty, and a new regalia were born.
“As you wish, my liege.” With careful steps, you navigated his study, casting an appraising gaze upon the books lining his shelves before pausing behind him. He should perceive that the banquet wasn’t the only thing on your mind that day. “Please, do not trouble yourself with all this paperwork.” Your lips brushed his ear. “Instead, should I anticipate your presence in my bedchamber tonight?”
He tensed, drawing a deep breath to temper his emotions. You always seemed to know how to push his buttons—in good and bad ways. You played him like a fiddle as always. Indeed, he was well aware that your desires surpassed the scope of mere banquet arrangements. “Very well.”
The distant gaze he cast upon you pierced deeply. Eight long years of matrimony, and only now did he begin to exhibit such aloofness. Only now did such estrangement manifest. What sudden shift had befallen this marriage? You were not privy to the answer, yet you strived to deny it. Nonetheless, for the sake of your peace of mind, did you venture forth with your inquiry. “My liege, I dare to believe that you do not hold a grudge against me.” Your eyes remained fixed upon his saintly face. “Do I speak true? For my failure to conceive during our last encounter—”
“It is futile to hold a grudge over matters beyond our control.” Displeasure thinned his lips. “What gain would I have in chastising you simply because you are barren?”
Pained by his words, you stepped away, quietly but firmly asserting, “...I am not barren.”
“You have not conceived after six years, that qualifies as being barren to me.” He flipped back to the page he was perusing, resuming his writing.
Any trace of happiness that once adorned your mien now dissipated, and was replaced by the shadows of his cutting words. “Then, what plan shall you devise if I fail to bear your offspring?”
Satoru halted in his writing, his quill suspended in the air. He closed his eyes as he spoke, “If you do not conceive in the foreseeable future, I have no choice but to divorce you. No matter the cost.”
Your eyes widened at his decision, your breath catching in your throat as the weight of his words settled upon you. His words seemed rehearsed, so well-thought of, as though he had expected this day to come and heretofore looked forward to informing you of this very plan. You failed to catch his reasoning, but succeeded at bearing the pain it had burdened you. What had driven him to this conclusion? Certainly, a mere heir would not lead him to this ultimatum.
“Are you suggesting a concubine, then?” Firm and resolute in your stance was how you received his proposal.
The emperor averted his gaze, allowing silence to stand as your response for several minutes until he finally articulated a considerate reply. “My heir cannot be born a bastard, and so concubines would only complicate matters. I have no plans in that department.” You sensed the direction of his thoughts, and you dreaded his continuation. “Instead, I implore you to abdicate your throne, and I shall marry another lady, whether of royal or imperial lineage, to bear the heir of this empire. It is the only fitting course of action, one which may necessitate a divorce.”
“Step down from my throne?” Your voice quavered, laced with disbelief and anguish. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “Would you cast me aside, discard me like a worn-out garment in your ill-tempered state, all for the sake of an heir? After everything I have done for you.” Your words echoed in the chamber, each syllable heavy with the betrayal you felt.
Your heart, once brimming with devotion, now lay shattered at your feet. All your life, you have loved him. All your happiness and tears, you have devoted to him. You had stood by his side through every trial, every conquest, only to be deemed unworthy of bearing his legacy. The sting of rejection seared your soul, igniting a fierce resolve within your wounded spirit. Yet nothing was his response. No words of comfort did he return for your wifely agony.
With a voice trembling through a mixture of sorrow and defiance, you met his gaze. “Fair enough,” you whispered, your tone laden with a sorrowful resignation. “If it is a concubine you seek, then so be it. But a divorce, I will not accept. And know this, my lord,” you declared, your voice rising with newfound strength, “I am the Empress. The one and only. There is none within this empire comparable to me, for a worthless, lowly concubine shall not depose this Empress Y/N of Caleum you would so readily compromise."
And in that solemn proclamation, you turned away, your stolid mien masking the shattered pieces of your fractured heart.
His countenance remained stoic as he observed your departure, sighing inwardly as you exited his study. Although no longer offering a response, he found himself unable to deny the truth of your words. Nor the power in which you presented them. Your presence lingered in his thoughts, holding sway over him in a manner he could not fathom.
As expected, you were epitome of a powerful empress just like what his mother once was and there ought to be a lot more convincing for you to step down from your post.
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT II
“If the oracle speaks the truth, then I fear, my lord, that this empire is destined for downfall.”
It was late in the night, though the castle still brimmed with light from the torches adorning the halls. Most servants had retired to bed by this hour, barring the guards stationed at key areas of the castle. Meanwhile, the emperor remained awake, engaged in discussions concerning the fate of his sovereign. A predestined fate that could only be avoided should he make the effort to fulfill the conditions of the prophecy.
Standing discreetly before him was Lord Maximillian, his advisor—a man who had witnessed his growth from juvenile years to the present moment. He had come to offer the emperor the much-needed counsel regarding the pressing matter at hand.
“Max, what do you say? Tell me, do you think I am incapable?” The man of higher power questioned. “I have discussed the divorce with the Empress. I have outlined my plan in case she fails to bear my heir, and presented it in a way that seems fair to her. Yet, she reacts with such intensity. And she loves so fiercely. Oh, women. Such troublesome, defiant women are the issue! She’s a shrew—that is what she is. For many years, I have given her the benefit of the doubt. Her ambitions outweigh her sense. I am at a loss on how to proceed with her any further. The prophecy demands that I have an heir.”
The old man returned him a soulless look. “If you interpret the matter differently than intended, then may I suggest that Your Majesty consider disposing of her.”
“Dispose?” he queried, as though he had misheard. “Her? My wife? You suggest it best to dispose of her?”
“Yes, I believe it is. In the same manner as your father and mother,” Maximillian asserted, drawing a deep breath. “Please, do not misunderstand my intentions as treason. My loyalty rests with you, my liege. I stand beside you. I desire nothing but the best for you, for this empire has not seen better days than under your rule.”
Silence enveloped the air. Satoru took a moment to gaze at his elongating shadow, gradually shaping itself as he moved farther from the candlelight. In the darkness, his shadow morphed into a menacing silhouette, a specter lurking in the darkness was what had become of him. To become a tyrant was never his intention nor the promise he made to his departed sister, who yearned nothing but for Satoru to embody fairness and strength in rulership. And to be an emperor for the people. She had strived for peace among nations, yet here her brother stood, mirroring the oppressive parental figures he had overthrown. What allure did power hold over him? What such force could sway him now to forsake the very individual who had displayed unwavering marital devotion towards him?
“Have you been in communication with the King of Ellesmere?” inquired the Emperor. “Is it not true that his daughter, the princess, was to marry the late Prince of Astheryn? That prince was the son of that villain. That tyrant. Emperor Toji of Astheryn, my foremost enemy. What has become of that princess, do you know?”
Maximillian stared at him intently. “She is twenty-eight years old and past her marriageable age, yet Princess Katarina remains unwed. Is it her hand that Your Majesty seeks?”
“I say this as the Emperor: it is solely her status that renders her the only eligible woman to be my wife and empress of this empire." His decision was laden with hesitation yet compelled by necessity. “However, for the moment, she cannot be seated until Y/N has been removed from her position. My decision will depend on whether my wife can produce my heir soon. If not, I shall dispose of her.”
His advisor sent him a look of approval. “'Tis a decision that can only emanate from you, my lord. May God be with you.”
“If that is all, then you can leave.” The emperor paused near the western part of the castle, not far from the corridors leading to his wife's bedchamber. “I ask you to be my messenger tomorrow. Write to the King of Ellesmere, briefly and clearly. Before you falsely honor a new empress, know that the long hours of my night are to be spent with the woman currently occupying the throne.”
Eventually, Satoru reached your chambers and noticed that a few candles had been lit, their warm light illuminating the room softly. In the solitude in which you found yourself, seated by the bed and bathed in moonlight, silent in such serenity he hoped not to disturb. The fabric of your nightgown, thin and delicate, revealed the contours of your womanly figure beneath. He, too, was clad in a thin robe that left little to the imagination.
As you turned to face him, you caught sight of the faint scars and marks from countless battles etched across his body, though his expression remained mostly neutral as it always had and you were unbeknownst to the profanity he had spoken of you a few minutes hence. Now, his electric blue eyes looked at you with careful scrutiny, pondering whether this sensual encounter would all be in vain or if you truly intended to fulfill your role and bear an heir this time.
“What hour is it?” You spoke softly, approaching him with a sorrowful glint in your eyes. “I have waited.”
“Apologies. Urgent matters demanded my attention.” Satoru could see the sadness in your eyes, but he tried his best to ignore it. You are barren, and there is little he can do to change that. He should begin his newfound task to detach from you. You brought him no good. You offered him no better fate. You were no longer instrumental for him to attain his long-standing ambition. Nevertheless, with your genuinely loving eyes he found himself conflicted, and that showed in his facial expressions. His brow knit, and he parted his lips as if to speak before hesitating and closing them again. You sensed his inclination to make you feel miserable, to render you desolate, yet he could not muster the resolve to articulate such words. Thus, he remained silent.
While you, you stood perfectly still. Like a porcelain doll displayed as a mere decoration. You wanted nothing but to give him his manly satisfaction that night, hoping that your marriage could still work and that he would not need the betrothal of another lady to give him an heir. With delicate hands, you let the nightgown slip away, falling beneath your feet as the cold air caressed your naked form. This body. All of it belonged to him. “My lord.” You kept your eyes on him. And he, on your shapely bosom. “Please have me as you desire.”
Satoru’s eyes darkened as he stared at you, his voice taking a commanding tone to match his expression. “Turn around.”
You did as ordered. As obediently, as submissively. Like a servant serving her master. Yet, beneath this guise of obedience lay a deeper yearning—to vie for his love once more, and to affirm, if only for one last time, that his words this morning were but a fleeting outburst of heightened emotions.
“I have to admit you are quite beautiful,” whispered him. It is a shame that you are so useless in one aspect.
He walked behind you, enfolding you in his muscular arm, ensnaring you in his robust grasp as his fingers traced a path down your back. You could feel the contours of his toned abs pressed against your back, while he explored the dips and curves of your body with his touch, squeezing the soft mounds on your chest. He then leaned his forehead against your neck, trailing tender kisses along your spine, each one a testament to the intimacy shared between you.
The passionate night continued with the both of you taking turns in granting each other pleasure. The kisses around your neck, his tongue in between your folds, your hand wrapped around his well-endowed member. And before you know it, he was entering you from behind, penetrating the depths of your cavern in pursuit of reaching his high. His grasp on your hips tightened with each thrust, rendering your knees weak as you remained on all fours.
Your intimate session lasted for a while, as he was not satisfied enough at having only one release for the night. He jostled you from the back, to the side, and to the front. All of which left you with the warmth of his seed seeping out of your entrance, and subsequently down your thighs.
If only he did not let his mind speak, you could have deluded yourself that this night was his declaration of utmost love for you.
“You know that I will leave if you do not provide me with an heir soon, do you not?” Satoru did not sleep as he looked at you, his thoughts running rampant as he questioned whether or not he was being too cruel. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a second of your tears, tears that you so rightfully held back, and he was at a loss of words for once. He knew that he needed to stay firm on his decision, but seeing you on the verge of breaking down... it struck guilt in him. Satoru’s face softened, his tone becoming more calm and less forceful. Subconsciously did he do his best to comfort you. “I am not pleased that it has come to this. My words may be harsh at times, but you understand that I must fulfill my duties as emperor, do you not?”
You could not answer immediately and tried to bear the sting it brought to your heart. “How is it that you suddenly find it easy to cast me aside? Is there another lady on your mind?”
“That is not the case.” His guilt was knocking at the door, but he tried to ignore it. “This empire needs an heir, and you have failed me.”
“Perhaps blame the lack of children on yourself.” You bit back as your chest rose and fell from heavy breaths. “So seldom does my own husband grace my bed, as though I am unwed. Blame it, then, on the distance you have imposed upon us! A child cannot be born if we are not intimate.”
Satoru’s eyes narrowed at your words. “Are you suggesting we engage in intimate relations every minute and every second of the day?” A scoff escaped his lips. “I have given you eight years.”
“And yet, for eight years, you have not learned to love me.”
Your gaze remained fixed, each word hanging heavily in the air like a stormy cloud, with the weight of your shared history and unresolved emotions looming between the two of you in a thunderous confrontation. It was as though the very atmosphere crackled with tension, the silence pregnant with unspoken truths and unfulfilled desires. What was his true and most honest intent in forsaking you?
Satoru sat by the edge, ultimately deciding to leave you with yet another night devoid of slumber, alone upon your chamber. “Love? That very love is what killed my sister.”
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT III
A fair distance from the Gate of Saint Pellegrino, a homeless woman cradled a baby in her arms. Her other children darted about Saint Peter’s Square while she sang a hauntingly familiar lullaby to her infant—a melody too melancholic for a child, yet so fitting for the occasion. You recognized it as the song created by the Caelan citizens after the war ended. Her dulcet voice would rival the angels of the sky, and amidst the throng of people attempting to breach the ranks of the knights surrounding the Emperor and Empress, she stayed firm in her spot, her haunting hymn weaving through the atmosphere, while her storm-grey eyes bore into you with an eerie intensity to captivate you in a trance.
A rose will bloom, it then will fade
So does a youth, so does a fairest maid
Beneath the stars, they found their place,
In secret trysts, love's tender grace.
But lo, the fates their love did fray,
In bitter strife, they slipped away.
So hush, dear ones, and hear this lay,
Of love that wilted, night and day.
In whispered sighs, they bid goodbye,
Two souls in love, 'neath starry sky.
A decade had passed since the most scandalous demise of the Astheryn prince and the Caelum princess had occurred, where both lovers were discovered lifeless within the somber halls of the Sistine Chapel. Contrary to the common folk’s belief, they were not wed, nor did they meet their tragic end at Saint Peter’s, indeed, as their bodies were in fact found at the nearby Sistine Chapel. The Catholic church acknowledged this romantic tragedy as a conclusion to the long-standing feud between two noble empires, henceforth commemorating the young couple’s demise each passing year with a holy mass.
This year rendered particular significance as it marked the solemn tenth anniversary of their untimely departure. Perhaps, it may be the reason why your husband has been on edge as of late. Every year, his sister’s demise served as a brutal reminiscence for him—a grim reminder of his perished sister and the origin of his tyrannical reign. He bore witness to his parents’ handling of the conflict with Astheryn ten years ago, whereupon they callously demanded the common folk spill their blood in service to the imperial dynasty, igniting civil unrest in its wake. Such ruthless and cowardly deeds left an indelible mark upon him and brought him to the ultimatum of becoming a usurper. You vividly recalled the night he sought solace at your family’s estate, clad in battered armor from countless battles waged. That evening, he wept in your arms, confessing the death of his sister and his burning desire to exact vengeance upon those responsible for his loss. In exchange for marriage, you devised a scheme to orchestrate the coup that would once and for all elevate him to the imperial throne.
Despite the facade of peace ushered in by the treaty between him and the Astheryn Emperor, the truth remained stark: both empires were merely feigning reconciliation. They were only nominally “at peace”. A cold war, by all accounts, defined their true relationship.
The tension could be felt inside the basilica even from the moment you and your husband arrived in The Venera, a microstate on the borders of Astheryn and Caelum, in front of the men of both empires, as well as the members of the Holy Catholic Church. For many years, this sacred state remained a recognized territory of Caelum, despite its official designation as an independent ecclesiastical entity. The Gojou family were openly pious and deeply devout Catholics, while the Astherean citizens were predominantly Protestants. Not all members of the Zen’in clan practiced their empire’s predominant religion, and some suggested that Emperor Toji himself might be an atheist, albeit discreetly so. Rumors also circulated that the mother of the late Prince Megumi was herself a Catholic, which led to intense criticism regarding her marriage to a lineal heir of the imperial family.
Nevertheless, this stark religious divide lay at the heart of the perennial animosity between the two nations.
“Announcing Their Imperial Majesties, Emperor Satoru and Empress Y/N, the guiding stars of our empire, luminaries in the twilight of sovereignty.”
As you walked alongside Satoru, you noticed his usual bright blue eyes turning into a darker hue. His gaze fixated upon the altar, his countenance void of emotion, as you proceeded down the aisle by his side. Since that night, silence has permeated your interactions. And you still had no desire to engage him, especially if it meant enduring relentless pressure regarding an heir or the prospect of divorce.
Yet there, you carried yourself with an air of quiet strength and dignity—a gown of the deepest black with long sleeves ending in delicate cuffs, a silver cross hung by your chest with a gemstone made from blood red corundum, and a flowing black veil crafted from the finest lace, enveloping your head and cascading gently down your back, partially obscuring your features. The veil added an air of mystery and solemnity in your poise.
As for him, the Emperor was adorned in a doublet and hose ensemble, embellished with intricate brocade and tailored to fit his form exquisitely to accentuate his stature and regal bearing. Draped over his shoulders was a lavish cape of rich, dark velvet lined with ermine fur and fastened at the neck with a jeweled clasp bearing the insignia of his empire. Each fold billowed around him as he moved, creating a striking silhouette that commanded attention and respect.
No wonder the citizens of this empire were noticing your extravagance. And despised you for it.
Throughout the mass, Satoru remained stoic, seated alongside you at the forefront of the church, his demeanor suggesting that this day of remembrance was a torment to his very soul. Still, he listened, but you doubted he agreed while Pope Alexandre VI delivered a sermon on the importance of unity and peace among nations, condemning the advocates of warfare and citing the tragic fate of the late prince and princess as a poignant illustration of how the animosity between two empires exacts a toll through sacrifice. Prayers were also offered for the souls of the civilians and soldiers who perished during the war, drawing inspiration from the teachings of the Bible as the mass adhered to the customary order of the Liturgy of the Word and of the Eucharist.
“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti,” you recited under your breath, genuflecting before the altar and offering prayers for the soul of your husband’s younger sister, beseeching that she find peace alongside her beloved under the guidance of the Holy Father. And as the mass drew to a close, you remained on your knees in prayer, the sound of approaching footsteps signaling the unwelcome arrival of an unexpected visitor—a presence that elicited a defensive reaction from your husband.
“Your Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Caelum.” It was none other than Duke Naoya of Astheryn, whose sarcastic presence seemed to have acted as a representative of their highest ruler. Emperor Toji’s absence to this occasion already constituted an affront to Satoru, and the pompous mien exhibited by the duke only intensified the indignation. A decade had passed since the death of Prince Megumi, and the prideful Astheryn Emperor still refrained from setting foot on Caelum’s soil to acknowledge the purported ‘peace’ between the empires. Even more, the subtle curve on Duke Naoya’s lips added an infantile insult to the already festering wound. “Accept my belated greetings. It took me but a moment to recognize you—rumors describe the Calean Emperor’s presence as imposing, yet reality often differs from reputation.”
You rose from the ground, poised to defend Satoru, but he raised a hand to forestall your intervention, maintaining his unruffled composure as he addressed the noble man’s jest. “Ah, well the Duke's wit is sharp as ever,” Satoru replied, his tone laced with equal sarcasm and earning the laugh of the surrounding nobles. “It appears that overseeing a mere duchy affords the Duke ample free time, unlike the responsibilities that come with ruling an empire, which he so covets.”
“Oh, certainly!” Duke Naoya spoke in Calean with a heavy accent, still unfazed as his eyes slowly drifted to you. “They pale in comparison to the burdens of ruling an empire. Yet, surely, it is not as burdensome without an heir.” His implication hung in the air, a pointed insinuation veiled in the guise of courtly banter.
Before the exchange could escalate into a diplomatic strain, Friar Mychal took it upon himself to intervene, exhaling a laugh of unease and positioning himself between the Emperor and the Duke. “Very well!” he exclaimed. “I have received word that those attending the mass will offer tributes for the basilica in remembrance of the tenth year since the passing of the Prince and the Princess. As a matter of fact, there are already numerous flowers adorning their statue that His Majesty Satoru has donated to the museum.”
The museum was just a short walk from the chapel and the space itself was adorned with ornate ceilings, frescoes, and architectural details that added to the grandeur of the surroundings. An array of sculptures lined the hall; of cherubs, saints, warriors, and mythological figures. One of the newer sculptures were of the Prince and the Princess, portraying young lovers in a tender embrace with the princely lad staring at his lady’s face. The sculpture was from a renowned Calean artist which Satoru himself hired out of the pure intention of donating it to the Veneran Museum. The nobles, members of the imperial court, and members of the church were all in awe after the sculpture was revealed to the attendees as such meticulous carvings and lifelike detail could only be done by Giancarlo di Firenze.
“A remarkable piece, indeed!”
“The detail is breathtaking!”
“To capture such emotion in stone… ‘tis as if they are whispering their love story to us.”
Your husband could not have been prouder. Alongside him, other nobles also contributed their offerings. Some notable ones included stained glass art, precious jewels, a pair of lovebirds, and… a particularly intriguing tapestry gifted by the Astheryn Empire.
The tapestry depicts the Astherean prince and the Calean princess lying together in death with the symbolic addition of a bloodied dagger laid atop the princess’ chest, representing the same weapon that Prince Megumi had used to end his life. The imagery not only insinuated that Satoru’s sister was responsible for the prince’s demise, but also served as an insult to the prevailing belief in her innocence surrounding her own tragic death.
“This…” Your mouth fell agape. You need not look into your husband’s visage to perceive his growing ire. “This is preposterous!”
The joy was evident in Duke Naoya’s eyes, yet he endeavored to feign ignorance. “Ah, before I forget, my noble cousin, the Emperor of the Astheryn Empire, sent an accompanying message addressed to His Majesty Satoru.”
In the threads of time, woven with the fabric of our shared tragedy, lies the essence of our 'peace'. As we gather to honor the memory of what once was, I send forth this tapestry, whereupon love and folly intertwine in an eternal dance. May it serve as a testament to the fragility of alliances forged in blood and ink, where shadows of deceit cloak the truth we dare not confront. While you sit upon your borrowed throne, may you find solace in the echoes of your usurped legacy.
With insincere regards,
Emperor Toji II of Astheryn
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT IV
“My liege, this is unacceptable! Astheryn is taunting us.”
An urgent assembly convened at the council chamber, where courtiers gathered to seek counsel from the emperor who was now seated in a position of humiliation following Astheryn’s brazen act of insult. You joined the court session in support of your husband, positioned at the throne beside him, while numerous men, each to their own titles and lordship, stood before you both. The courtiers' visages displayed incandescent umbrage as they protested and vehemently rejected the malignance from the rival empire in defense to the Emperor of Caelum. Yet the subject of the scrutiny himself remained staid and dignified.
“We cannot remain idle in the face of such an insult. If war is what they seek, then we shall grant it unto them!” exclaimed one of the members of the imperial court. A proponent of war he presented himself.
“Indeed, Your Majesty. To allow such an audacious act of disrespect would deem us cowards!” said another one of the men.
Satoru rested his arm on the armrest, a hand on his chin. He appeared to be lost in profound contemplation, yet you have grown long familiar with that expression of his to know that he was fueled with choler inside. “What is your opinion on this, Etienne? War is not a decision made lightly.”
Lord Etienne, as his name was called, spoke his opinion on the matter at hand and acted as an advocate for caution. “I agree, my lord. A hasty decision could plunge our empire into chaos and suffering. Perhaps, we can explore diplomatic channels first. War should be our last resort, not our first impulse.”
“Your Imperial Majesty!” Lord Armand countered. “With all due respect, your name has been besmirched! Is this not blasphemous to this empire and us, its men?”
“Our men are not prepared for war, Lord Etienne,” the previous noble claimed. “And how can we wage war with our forces against those of Astheryn's? Their military prowess is the mightiest throughout the central continent. They are barbaric folks, enemies to peace. We are nothing but simple foes to them..”
The belittling of Caelum’s military strength ignited your ire since that the training of soldiers, weapon crafting, and the establishment of the formidable imperial order of knights were specialties of your family—a legacy that your noble ancestors had established in this empire. It was why your family’s ties to the imperial Gojou family remained strong throughout the years. Therefore, hearing such remarks was derogatory to you.
You held your position and participated in the discussion. “Lord Etienne, do you speak so poorly of Caelum, your country, and speak so highly of Astheryn, your enemy?” For a moment, the court fell silent. “May God have mercy on you! Listen to his judgment. Is Caelum a joke to you? We have strengthened our military might since His Majesty’s ascent, and we are powerful enough to wage war against the entire world!”
“But Your Majesty—”
“Silence, all of you!” Satoru rose from his throne, exhaling in exasperation, and shot you a displeased look. His next words were sharp and his anger misdirected. “Empress, I appreciate your indignation, but this proves that women should not meddle in court sessions. Emotions depart from your mouth before logic enters your mind. You are dismissed from this session. Immediately.”
You could not fathom his sentences. For the longest time, never before had he dared to disrespect you in the presence of his subjects. Never had he dared to deny you of your rightful place as the empress of this nation, knowing full well the pivotal role you played in his ascension to the throne. Why, you could not speak! You were rendered speechless, too stunned to respond as you sank back into your seat, grappling with the sting of hurt and humiliation he had inflicted on you.
And somehow, Lord Maximillian’s eyes were uncharacteristically fixed on you as though they were in triumph at your situation. He did well enough to mask that with indifference withal. What was this hostility? Even the knights who approached you only had regard for the emperor, following his command of escorting you out of the council chamber despite your desire to stay seated. Yet to save face from this abomination, you did it upon yourself to stand up and leave at your own will.
“Nanami.” In your disappearance, Satoru spoke again, this time facing his subjects. “How do you propose we navigate this situation?”
Lord Nanami was more of the voice of reason, expressing his approach on the matter with neither bias towards engaging in or retreating from war. “My liege, I speak in your best interest. Let us convene with our allies, assess our military readiness, and explore all avenues for resolution. Only then shall we make an informed decision. It is most appropriate that we prepare ourselves against the enemy.”
Satoru already knew the answer before the man had spoken of it. Why so? Because it was the same route he would take. Only, it was his wounded pride and disdain towards his greatest adversary that landed him to a much more inhospitable decision. “Along with that blasphemous tapestry, written in his message, did that Emperor of Astheryn disparagingly refer to me as a usurper when I am the true born heir to the throne.” He ground out the words with clenched teeth as he stared at the portrait of his father. His hands balled into fists, his face hot and pinched with resentment. He detested being called a ‘usurper’ as he detested Astheryn and all of the Zen’ins. Regardless of the path he took to claim his throne, he was still a direct lineal heir to the Gojou bloodline. “I cannot let that pass. I cannot let his insult go unanswered. Hence, take down these words and address them to him, who is my enemy.” Satoru stared straight ahead, his face blank and emotionless as he spoke his next words in flawless Astherean language. “Emperor of Astheryn, your words are as venomous as they are misguided. While you revel in your petty insults and thinly veiled threats, know this: the patience of Caelum wears thin. Your tapestry of deceit and blasphemy shall find no place within the halls of our empire. Let it be known that the path you tread leads only to ruin and despair. Should you persist in your folly, Caelum shall meet your challenge with unwavering resolve. Consider this your final warning. The drums of war beat ever louder, and Caelum will not hesitate to answer the call. For this usurper you deride may stay true to that label when I seize your throne and make it mine.”
Following the court session, the emperor retreated to the training hall until late evening venting his wrath against the despot from the rival empire. He devoted hours in the hall, wielding his sword, sparring with the swordsmanship master, and decisively overpowering him to feel a sense of honor for himself. In his mind, each strike was a fierce expression of his imagination, envisioning what that battle would be like if it were Emperor Toji II in his stead. It would have been their second encounter in the battlefield as the first one ended in armistice for the sake of the prince and princess. This time, however, the execution of this battle would be markedly different.
Later that evening, he returned to his study, still in his armor as he met with his most loyal advisor. It was a private counsel to discuss matters unbeknownst to the rest of the empire—the prophecy and, notably, you.
“I fear this as I say this: the prophecy is upon you, my lord.” Lord Maximillian’s voice hinted at unease. His warning, spoken with a mood of paranoia. “The oracle’s riddles are coming to fruition, and this predicament with Astheryn is a clear example of that fact. War looms on the horizon, and it threatens to be your undoing. Now, more than ever, we need the support of another nation like Ellesmere.”
“I see that.” Satoru responded with a heavy exhale, tossing his metal helmet onto the carpeted floor. He made his way toward the expansive window and gazed out at the courtyard below. There, he spotted you, meandering the rose garden alone under the cover of night. You were brighter than the envious moon, coruscating like a fresh tulip amongst the field of wilted roses.
The lord cleared his throat and stood next to the emperor. “You must rid yourself of her, Your Majesty. If the prophecy has taught us anything, it is that the Empress serves as a harbinger of your downfall. The destruction of Caelum is inevitable if you retain her. Abandon all hope that she will bring you a child or luck. I acknowledge the attachment you have formed with her over the years, but she brings ill fate to all of us.”
You stopped at the fountain, seemingly lost in deep thought, and then began an expressive argument with yourself in your solemnity. The sight earned his smile. Satoru could not keep his eyes off you as if they were drawn by your beauty under the luminescence of the moon. How pitiful, truly, that your innocence left you no knowledge of the conversation he was having with his advisor.
“She shall be appointed as a concubine,” he declared, “Ridding of her is a waste; divorcing her offers a suitable solution. She may not have my heir, but she is a strong empress. A true villainess, yes. That, she may be, but she is devoted to me.”
“Which is precisely why you must dispose of her!” Lord Maximillian pressed onto the matter with greater seriousness. “My liege, it is anticipated that you will yearn for Empress Y/N’s loyalty even after your marriage with the Princess of Ellesmere. And her ferocious devotion could only hinder your plans and bring about your downfall. Who’s to say she will withstand the temptation to inflict harm upon the fair Princess Katarina out of jealousy? This, as you know, could turn Ellesmere against us!” His passionate speech then silenced him into a quiet plea. “Please, Your Majesty, consider it deeply. For the sake of this empire.”
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT V
In the evening, at the hour of eleven did you find yourself wandering the garden. It had become more and more difficult to live each day, unable to grasp why your spouse had been hostile against you for reasons you could not justify. If it were matters concerning your apparent infertility, then he could easily get a concubine just as you had already permitted. All of Caelum’s nobility was well aware of your possessiveness towards him, yet it was you who proposed the idea of a concubine to him. Why, then, does he still entertain the idea of remarriage? Is it to guarantee that his heir will not be deemed a bastard? He possessed the authority to prevent such a label from being attached to the child.
“Oh, how cruel is this fate!” You paused by the fountain, observing your reflection in the glistening water. “You have given me a husband devoid of passion! Am I no longer beautiful? Have I lost my allure and youthful appearance? Has Cupid directed his arrow elsewhere? Oh, he must be insane!”
Tears welled up your eyes, blurring your vision as you looked into the mirrored reflection. You thought of Satoru’s hateful gaze when you closed your eyes and could feel the painful knots in your stomach. He had been nothing but a distant spouse for eight years in your marital union, and as unfortunate as you were, any improvements were farfetched. Every attempt at progress only fueled into a relationship filled with disagreements.
Your monologue resumed. “Could there be another woman? A maid, perhaps? One who sneaks into his bed at night while I sleep soundly. Shame on her! Fie, insolent wench! Or could it be a noblewoman he met at a ball, a coming-of-age ceremony, or anything of the sort? Vile, dishonorable harlot! I shall strip you of your noble status and exile you from Caelum!”
A sigh ended your ranting, leaving you with more tears to shed as you fondly remembered your youthful days of infatuation with him. He was the man you had dreamed of, yet now all he would do was to quarrel, and quarrel, and quarrel. You had become an enemy in his eyes. He may have drowned you with extravagant gifts and the rarest jewels throughout your marriage, but the one you most coveted—his love—was one he could not give.
“My lady?”
You turned around at the sound of the gentleman’s voice, whereupon a knight presented himself to you. No, not merely any other knight, but the Knight Commander of the Imperial Order of Knights. Sir Suguru, Caelum’s most prized possession, a power and battle-fit warrior, who could defeat a hundred armed men by himself alone. He was referred to as a hero by this empire’s people. His commitment to chivalry and service did not go unnoticed as your husband, the very emperor he served, had more than once awarded him for fostering high morale and esprit de corps among other knights.
“What brings you here, and why?” you asked, watching him curtsy before you as he did the standard imperial greetings. His silver suit of armor gleamed, reflecting the stars in the sky, while the black cloak enveloping him mirrored the void of the night. Truly, an intimidating presence for those that knew none of him.
However, his face was a stark difference from the aura he exuded. His eyes curved into crescent moons as he smiled, offering what appeared to be a handkerchief. “I am making my nightly rounds in the palace, and upon hearing Your Majesty’s distress, I had to come forth. Is everything alright, Empress?”
You sighed in lamentation and accepted the linen cloth from his hand. “To claim that everything is ‘alright’' is a wishful sentiment. The state of my marriage troubles me, yet I shall not burden you with such matters, for they are private.”
Suguru acquiesced to your words and nodded in respect toward you, still remaining by your side in silence. Like a personal guard stationed to protect you as it seemed he had no intention of leaving you alone in the courtyard.
“How dare you! Do you not care to leave a woman in peace?” you questioned, a moue forming on your face. The tears had long dried from your cheeks as you spoke to him. “I wish to be alone!”
It was already a rare sight to cross the Knight Commander’s path around the palace, given that his duties did not include serving as a personal guard to the emperor. He was typically present only during official or diplomatic gatherings, and rather trained and oversaw the elite group of guards that would protect the emperor and empress. Nevertheless, with what little interactions you had with him, Suguru had always conducted himself as a respectful and dutiful subject towards you.
“Forgive me. It is quite dangerous to be alone outside at night, Your Majesty. Your vulnerability may pose a risk to your safety.” He moved to unclasp his mantle, draping the large black cloak around your shoulders, a much smaller figure than himself. “And if you permit, the night is cold, and a lady must stay warm.”
There was a strange flutter in your heart as your wide eyes saw the gentility in his intentions. You could no longer question why dozens of noble women would line up to vie for his attention. His actions spoke better than his words ever could. How far, you wondered, would his kindness to you take him? “Are you not a bound subject to my husband?”
“Indeed, I am.” He stared ahead. “I have been his friend since our youth. However, it is with Your Majesty’s kin that I owe the honor of being a knight. It is with the support of your father, the Grand Duke, that I consider myself alive, standing here in this palace as the leader of all knights.”
Not once did you move your eyes away as you studied his sincerity. “Then, if I ask you to commit treason against the Emperor of Caelum,” you spoke with such regal power, “Shall I expect your commitment to me?”
For a while, Suguru did not speak. He appeared to be contemplating his answer as his stance had become defensive. Or hesitant, whichever fit. He did not meet your careful eyes, though he did look down and confess a knowledge that greatly devastated you. “The prophecy governs His Majesty’s attitude towards you. In the dungeon hides an oracle he visits every fortnight. I accompanied him during one of these visits, where the oracle predicted the need for an heir soon and told him that the failure to produce one may lead to his downfall at the hands of a woman not of royal blood. To my understanding, he interpreted her riddles as the need to execute you and wed another woman of true royal lineage. This truth solidifies my allegiance to you, Empress.”
Upon hearing Suguru’s words did your heart sink, and a wave of disbelief washed over you. It felt as though the ground had been pulled from beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a state of shock, desperately trying to grasp the magnitude of what had just been revealed to you.
“Faugh! By’r Lady, that is a grave accusation!” Anger simmered beneath the surface of your composed exterior. You were livid at Suguru for being the bearer of such devastating news, for being the messenger of your potential downfall, and felt betrayed by your own husband, the Emperor, for keeping such a crucial prophecy hidden from you. You wondered why he had never shared this information with you, why he allowed you to live in ignorance while he made plans for your potential demise. But one thing for certain, was that this was the reason for his growing detachment toward you.
The knight could only provide you with a comforting bow. “I am afraid these words are true, my lady. Lord Maximilian conspires with him. Hurry to the dungeons and seek the oracle. She will reveal the truth to you.”
Beneath your anger lay a profound sadness, a heartache that cuts to the core of your being. The realization that your own husband, the man you loved and had pledged your life to, saw you as nothing more than a pawn in a game of power and succession. You felt a sense of profound loss, mourning not only the potential loss of your own life but also the loss of trust, of love, of the future you had envisioned.
Despite the tumult of emotions raging within you, you remained outwardly composed, your mask of regal poise firmly in place. You knew you must tread carefully, that showing weakness now would only play into the hands of those who seek your downfall.
And yet, the devil showed himself. You had been oblivious to your husband’s presence by the window of his study as he stood a great distance from you, watching you engage in an intimate conversation with his Knight Commander down below. He could not gauge where that sudden familiarity came from as he witnessed Suguru draping his cape around you—an action that crossed a territory he should not have sought. The emperor could no longer tolerate watching it, walking in haste along the halls of the palace until he eventually reached the courtyard. His gaze was burning into the back of Suguru’s head as he stopped behind you, waiting for you to notice your husband’s approach before he spoke.
“Empress.” His deep voice startled you.
Your eyes were clouded with resentment, hidden under the veil of a devoted wife. “My liege.”
Satoru stared at Suguru with a fierce look before turning to you. “It is dangerous to be out at this hour. I wish nothing untoward to happen to you, so I came here to ensure your safety.”
“I apologize, then, for causing you worry.” A bitter smile painted your lips and the tone of your voice suggested of feigned concern. “As you see, I have a knight here who is trained to guard and protect me.”
The emperor narrowed his eyes at the aforementioned knight, who elected silence out of deference to the reigning monarchs before him. This very knight was a childhood friend of his, but now Satoru regarded him as a rival, for all the peculiar reasons. “You may leave, Suguru,” he commanded, and yanked the cape from the empress’ body, then flung it toward the knight. “I will take my wife back.”
Satoru caught you sending an apologetic look toward the Knight Commander, which in return caused his ire to grow. What was the conversation you shared with him for you to act that way? In fact, he had never seen you pay another man that much attention. What a devious, little wench. A foxy, scheming jezebel. Satoru threw insults at you in his head as he took your arm in a tight grip, pulling you away from the courtyard. The silence between the two of you was thick with unspoken tension as he led you up the spiral staircase on the eastern side of the castle. His side of the castle.
“Darling.” Your endearment came out as a protest as you tried to pull your arm from his grip. “Unhand me.”
Still and all, he was silent as he dragged you along. It was only a short distance to his quarters, but he did not let go of you even once. You should see in his eyes that he was not amused by the friendly interaction between you and Suguru.
“I said release my hand, at this very instant!”
He remained like a taciturn man while ushering you into his quarters. Once he had locked the door behind him, he released his grip on your wrist and turned to confront you. His eyes grew dark and cold. A shade of blue that reminded you of lightning. “I would prefer it if he did not approach you when I am not present.”
“Ah, now you care!” Scoffing, you glared at him. “He simply offered his best to comfort me. Do not suspect it of anything else,” said you defensively, in a voice backed by your authority. Only now did he realize that the expression on your face had become austere.
“Even if that were true, I have no need for another man—especially a knight—to comfort my wife.”
“A wife? A wife you asked for divorce?” you mocked as his statement erupted a laughter out of you. A loud, boisterous laughter that screamed an insult to his face. “You see me as nothing but a bearer of children. Not as a wife or a person you treasure with your heart.” As you ridiculed him with a hint of humor on your face, your eyes had also grown deranged. “A mere pawn to your chessboard is what I am.”
Satoru was rigid in his stance. “I merely proposed divorce if you were unable to conceive. As emperor, it is my duty to father an heir. If the empress cannot fulfill that duty, I am compelled to find someone else who can—”
“An heir this, an heir that. Out upon it!” You expressed your frustration outwardly, throwing your hands into the air. “Go get yourself a concubine, then, and I will get myself a lover to even the score.”
A lover? Satoru was seething, yet his expression remained unchanged. He knew that you were taunting him, and still chose not to give you the reaction you wanted. “Then, I am sure you will have more success at producing heirs with your lover than you do with me.”
“Certainly!” you bit back, anger rising in each syllable. “In place of my husband, perhaps my lover can give me a child, proving to the whole empire that it is not I who is barren.”
Satoru’s eyebrows shot up in response to the blatant insult to his fertility. His cold eyes narrowed, the rage within him intensifying. “If you have a child with your lover, it will not discredit my fertility at all. It will instead bring into question my choice to have a child with a woman who is unable to be faithful to her husband.”
Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. “If you get yourself a concubine, then I will have my own lover. That or nothing at all.”
“Enough! I do not seek a concubine,” he raised his voice, a spasm of irritation crossing his face. “You are nothing but a maggot-pie, crawling in the dirt, serving no purpose for me! Ill-tempered shrew! I have said it many times, and I say it once more. In your failure to conceive, my intention is to remarry another lady and make her the empress, not a concubine! My heir must be legitimate. Stick that to your empty head!”
Satoru could feel the heat of your stare burning into him, but his mind had suddenly wandered back to the previous conversation, and he could not help but wonder whether you would actually have an affair with another man. The thought of it infuriated him, but he pushed it out of his mind as you stared at him in blazing fury.
“Must I remind you that it was I who assisted Your Majesty in ascending to the throne?” A warning shadow crossed your features. “I played a crucial role in staging a coup to overthrow your tyrant parents. If the princess had not perished, would you not be considered a madman? Now tell me, the only compensation I seek is your love, yet have you paid your dues?”
He scoffed at your words. You believe all you did in leading the rebellion was for the purpose of making him emperor? It was in your best interests to see yourself climb the ranks of an imperial power. And it was certainly not love you sought, but mere attention and validation. “My respect should be enough of a reward for you. I took you as my wife as a sign of my gratitude. Love was never a part of the deal.”
“Love is the very essence of that deal,” countered you. “You would be foolish not to think so.”
In his eyes, love and affection were something you should receive only when you deserve it, not when you demand it. In his mind, you had grown too familiar with him, too spoiled by his presence. It was time he corrected this. “You are mistaken to think that love is a condition of our relationship. I have never made promises of love or affection. I only promised you attention and the prestige of being an empress. Have I not fulfilled this promise and made you into an empress in every sense? Love is merely an illusion conjured in your imagination.”
“You are a tyrant through and through!” You pushed him away, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “What devil are you, that you torment me like this? You miserable villain! Usurping knave! Betrayer of blood, who masquerades himself an emperor under a false sovereign! I placed you on that throne you so wistfully enjoy. Your power and authority hold no sway over me.”
The emperor’s jaw clenched tightly as his empress’ words cut through the air like a dagger. His pride was wounded by the venom of your words—words you had not carefully chosen, or perhaps did carefully choose, as you knew what words he despised hearing the most. His eyes flashed with jaundice as he fought to contain the roiling emotions churning within him. He wanted to lash out, to defend his honor and assert his authority, but he knew that such displays of weakness would only fuel the flames of dissent and discord.
Instead, he yanked your wrist again. “Do not forget your place, wife.” And then he grabbed your face with a rough hand, slamming you against the wall. “I may have promised not to take a concubine, but that privilege does not extend to your behavior.” The tightness of his grip caused your cheeks to ache slightly, and he showed no signs of letting go.
“And what will you do?” you spoke through gritted teeth.
“What will I do? I will remind you of your position, wife,” he continued to speak in a menacing tone, “But you may test my patience as much as you like. Go ahead and take a lover as you have claimed you would. Let us see how your arrogance holds up when I force you to bear his bastard child.”
You cussed him under your breath. “Is that jealousy?”
Yet, his countenance proved otherwise. “It is not. You see, I am not possessive of you. You can bear whomever’s child you wish. But you must be aware, that once that child is born, I would never claim my title as the father. It would be deemed a bastard, its blood impure and its existence an insult to my throne.”
“Do not lecture me on matters of infidelity when you are the one desperate to bed another woman.” You were bold enough to send him a look of disgust. “You are an emperor all due to me. Without me, you are nothing.”
In a fit of rage, Satoru exploded like a volcano spilling out its reservoir of hot, scorching lava. “You?! You think yourself the savior of this empire? Not by far!” There was a brief pause before he continued, eyes looking at you in unforgiving judgment. “I would have succeeded in leading the coup, even without you.”
A snort escaped your lips. “Delude yourself to that.”
“The guards are gone. You have no witnesses.” The warning he had issued was laden with the implication of impending punishment, fueled by your defiance and vitriol, driving him to a boiling point. He seized your wrist once more, his grip tighter than before, as he leaned in close and spoke into your ear. “I could hurt you right here and now if I wanted to, yet I show you mercy.”
“I need none of your mercy,” you spat, taken aback as he pushed you against the wall. You could feel his breath fanning your neck as he leaned closer, inches before your face.
Satoru’s laughter rang out as you persisted in your resistance, his eyes narrowing with a mix of intrigue and anger. Your defiance only served to stoke the flames of his wrath as he began to speak, “Darling,” and made a mockery of your endearment, “Perhaps I can ravish you until you are senseless.”
“Vainglorious dastard,” you spitefully replied.
He spoke no words for several moments, his breathing gradually intensifying as he gazed down at you like a toy he wanted to destroy. And for a fleeting moment, it seemed as though he was weighing whether to persist or not, but eventually, he made his choice, his voice adopting a more ominous tone with each word. “I will destroy you.”
“S-Satoru!”
He pushed you towards his bed, and himself against you, pressing his body heavily atop yours. His breath became uneven with his anger overtaking his mind. Your whimper of fear filled him with sadistic satisfaction. “Yes, me, as you said. No one else is here with us, and no one would bat an eye if they heard a scream.”
Your decision to pull his hair proved to be a significant mistake, though it was evident from your expression that you derived pleasure from it. You longed for it. You desired this wanton affection. This carnal desire. Lust bathed in your eyes as you observed him hastily tear his clothing, eager to feel the velvety touch of your skin against his. He wasted no time in undressing you as well, ripping away whatever obstructed your bareness, leaving you both exposed under the moonlight, indulging in the passions shared between lovers.
“I despise you,” you declared, a hot moaning mess under him as he rammed his hardened shaft in between your legs where he himself was grunting at the pleasure of your tight entrance. In and out he went, and buried his face on your neck to leave purple marks all over your skin. “I-I despise you!”
“I share those sentiments,” he jested, squeezing your breast in labored breaths before he sucked the rounded mass in his mouth, earning your titillating moans.
By the end of your long passionate exchange, he lay next to you, body soaked in sweat as he watched your sleeping face. The peace in those saintly features. Did you pass out? He could not be certain. Was he too rough? That, he was certain. It showed on the bruises that mapped parts of your body. He could feel a small tinge of guilt within him as he moved to pull the blanket over you, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.
“Is this not love?” He opened his eyes when heard you laughing softly, eyes still shut but with a bitter smile spreading on your face. In a cold tone of voice, you whispered, “Your love is tough, yet love nonetheless.”
He knew it was not love, yet even if it was, you would soon be taken care of anyway. You would be exiled or worse, executed, should you fail to heed his warnings. He had to put his ambitions first and foremost before any form of affection he had of you. And if you truly, unconditionally loved him, you would understand why.
That, that was how he defined love to be.
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ACT VI
The castle’s dungeon was an… unsightly place. Aside from the centuries of brutal torture and grotesque deaths that occurred down under, it also housed the memory of Satoru shedding his hands on his kinsmen’s blood. That was the place where he had slain his father, his rotting head still mounted on the wall as though he was an animal that his son had hunted. A tyrant, undoubtedly. Satoru’s penchant for brutality knew no bounds, but he certainly got it from his father. While you were responsible for the death of a little over a hundred people, his would account for more than thrice that number.
As you descended further into the depths of the dungeon, the air grew heavy with the miasma of damp stone, blood, and decay. A putrid, sickening odor greeted your nose the more you entered. If not for the torches that flickered dimly along the walls, you would not be able to see at all, yet those torches casted eerie shadows that danced and swayed with each step you took. It was a frightening sight and definitely not for the faint hearted.
“Help!” Your senses were assailed by the sights and sounds of the dungeon's grim inhabitants as you ventured deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. Gaunt specters lurked in the shadows, their hollow eyes gleaming with a sinister light as they whispered chilling secrets to one another in sotto voce. Some also cried of agony and despair, some had already fallen unhinged from being held in captivity for so long—it became a cacophony of anguished cries and tortured souls. “Help me, Empress! I beg my innocence!”
“Step back, Your Majesty.” Suguru, who acted as your companion in this macabre trip, unsheathed his sword to protect you from being touched by the prisoners. He threatened to slash their hands with just a simple touch on your dress.
“Empress! Empress!”
You deemed it wise to pull the hood of the cloak over your face, especially as the prisoners were starting to recognize you within these cursed confines. It would be troublesome if Satoru were to arrive soon and they began to scream your name in his presence.
“Empress, this dungeon is meant for souls as tainted as yours!”
That statement proved itself to be spine-chilling and hair-raising, as such accusations could not be denied. Truthfully, your crimes far surpassed theirs. You belonged with the forsaken and the damned. You already accepted that all your sins and trespasses would bring you nowhere near heaven, yet you had blindly murdered people out of love for Satoru. That was how crazy you were at winning him over. And now, this is where it brought you.
But you pressed on and continued traipsing through the dungeon until you could feel the presence of the oracle drawing closer, a beacon of hope amidst the despair that gripped the dungeon like a vice.
Finally, you reached the chamber where the oracle awaited. It was a figure cloaked in shadow at the far end of the room. And upon adjusting your visions, you could see that the oracle was an old woman, her white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight around her frail shoulders. Her skin, alabaster. Her eyes, ghoulish and devoid of color, and they seemed to pierce the veil of reality itself as she spoke in riddles and whispers that sent shivers down your spine. It was your first time to encounter such an unrealistic being. They said each word from the oracle dripped with the weight of centuries of wisdom and foreboding. She spoke of prophecies and portents, of trials and tribulations yet to come, her words weaving a tapestry of fate and destiny that hung heavy in the air like a shroud.
“Speak.” You stopped at her chamber, demanding to hear the prophecy she had said to your husband. “Tell me the Emperor’s prophecy.”
Much to your ire, she gave you no response, still staring at the empty wall.
“Speak!” Your patience was growing thin as each passing second would crumble any hope you had inside that Satoru was not a man who would forsake you, or even execute you, in exchange for his ambitions. But it had been twenty or so minutes and still there was no word from the oracle. “Do you not possess a voice? Are you not a fortune-teller?”
Suguru sucked in a deep breath. Should his accusations of the emperor prove to be a lie, you swore to yourself that you would be the one to put him inside one of the iron maidens in the dungeon. Or that daunting Judas cradle if he preferred. “Your Majesty, it takes time to make her speak.”
“I do not have that luxury of time! I cannot be seen here.” You gave him a menacing stare. “At the risk of your own life, Sir Knight, if this turns out to be nothing but foolishness, I will personally disembowel you—”
“Beware! O Empress, keeper of fragile dreams!”
The sudden burst of the oracle’s voice startled you, as they were far from what you had expected from an old lady. It carried an otherworldly quality that seemed to transcend her physical form. They were melodic and haunting, a chilling quality that hinted at the supernatural origins of her prophetic abilities. It was as though you were paralyzed by the time she spoke, like all your senses stopped working and all you could ever do was be forced to listen to her prophecy.
“For the Emperor's gaze wanders far,
As he seeks a lady of royal blood,
Ambition cloaked in the guise of lineage,
And in his thirst for power, lies your peril.”
As you listened, your heart bled terribly, knowing that the answers you sought lay buried within the enigmatic riddles of the oracle’s words. The haunting words of the prophecy echoed through the dim chamber where you stood frozen, in a state of despair and disbelief and every awful thing in the world combined. The truth, once a lurking suspicion, now materialized before you and it left your heart in shattered pieces because you actually hoped that none of the accusations were true. So, how could Satoru do this to you? How could he betray you after all your sacrifices just to be his wife, your efforts just to receive his love, and your crimes just to satisfy his desires? Through your hands, more than a hundred souls had perished. You had shed the blood of many Christian souls for him. You had offered him your chastity and turned back on your reverence by profaning the word of God. You had worshiped him like a divine being. Yet so easily would he cast you away. No, he could not even offer the slightest pleasure of loving you genuinely, without any inhibitions, without anything in exchange.
While your sacrifices were his definition of the “greater good”, his betrayal against you was his definition of a “lesser evil”. It was his “personal gain”, for your demise would have no profound repercussions on this empire.
Undoubtedly, that must be his truest and utmost feelings for you.
Suguru held you in his arms when you fell to the ground, your entire world crashing before you as the oracle revealed your husband’s plans. Your hands were shaking, trembling. You had trouble breathing. He was there to guide you out of the dungeon safely, even if you were to run and weep like a madwoman. But of course, you were not that insane yet. It was simply the ache in your heart that catapulted you into an abyss of pain.
Satoru must not succeed in his plans. He must not come out victorious. The greatest revenge you could think of was brimming in the back of your mind, ignited by the visible spite you felt for him and his web of deceit.
And back alone in your bedchambers, nausea overcame you and had you vomiting all over the floor. You retched the harrowing experience at the dungeons, disgusted by things you saw and heard, especially the treachery of your very husband. You were sick at the thought of him planning your assassination behind your back, like an ungrateful imbecile who only cared about himself and his vainglory.
“Nurse!” you called, coughing out the foul taste of bile expelled from your throat. “Come here!”
“Coming, madam!” Geneva came to your aid as soon as you summoned her and tended to your needs immediately. At the time, you could not make out much of the clatter that was happening inside your chambers as you lay in bed with your eyes shut. It seemed that Geneva had ordered the other servants to clean out the mess you had created, while she took over in putting you to bed and making sure that you were warm and comfortable. She had no single idea about what was going through your mind, and had she had any hint about what it was, you could only imagine how bloody traumatized she would be.
If Satoru wanted to dethrone and destroy you, then you might as well help him with it. He should no longer be surprised to see what good of a show you could offer for everyone in this empire.
“Good madam,” Geneva called gently, after an hour or so, pulling you out of trance. “A physician is already—”
You lifted a hand, stopping her while you tried to get out of bed. “That won’t be necessary.” Despite your queasiness, you had decided that there was no time to waste for this war of love and death against your husband. The sooner you planned things out, the greater your advantage would be. You had to have the upperhand in this. “Nurse, where did my husband go?”
The nurse guided you up and draped a lightweight shawl around your shoulders. “I believe His Majesty is conducting a military inspection. He is accompanied by about ten knights.”
An inspection? It must be related to the discussion at the imperial court. Of course, if Satoru was planning to wage war against Astheryn, he had to review the troops stationed in different regions of the empire to assess readiness, morale, and preparedness for defense. He could deploy an initial 25,000 men in his heavy infantry should he find the need to go on an all-out war with the enemy, but those amount of soldiers would require the emperor himself to arduously test if they were ready for battle. Naturally, the inspection could last four or five days depending on his assessment. And in his absence in the palace, either the empress or the other trusted advisors would usually take on the duties that usually were his.
This was the perfect opportunity to devise your plan; to prune the branches, weaken the trunk, and uproot the tree entirely. The branches began with his loyal advisors, which have already been filtered out as those previously appointed by his parents became his enemies. Enemies that died by his hands and yours, because those enemies were advisors who did not support Satoru in his method of seizing the highest throne, so he could not risk having rebels in the empire who would later work together to topple him from his seat. When he first rose to the throne, he had several assassination attempts aimed at him, typically by means of poisoning his food with arsenic, or hiring highly skilled mercenaries to slay him behind his back—all of those attempts were intercepted by you. And at the elimination of those disloyal to him, Satoru assumed that the current members of the imperial court could hence be trusted since they had not shown any hints of falsity for the ten years they had served him.
The difference between you and Satoru was that he was easily beguiled because the noblemen treated him a lot differently than you. They were ass-lickers, trying to win him over for their own superficial benefits, while you knew who among them were simply supporting Satoru for the sake of not being executed. Out of fear, out of an inherent will to live, out of an obvious lack of choice—there was one noble who stood out among the rest.
And it was the one whose presence was not the loudest.
“Lord Nanami.” Upon mentioning his name, you entered the palace library—a grandeur chamber notable for its high ceilings, expansive oak shelves, and accoutrements—as he stood in front of a wood table, strangely interested in codices. “Nice to see you.”
The blond nobleman curtsied. “Your Imperial Majesty, it is an honor to be in your presence.”
You gestured your hand into dismissing him, cutting to the chase because you were still unwell. And for all the necessary reasons, you had to have this conversation with him or else there would not be an easier opportunity with Satoru’s eyes and ears around the palace. Nanami was his most trusted advisor, not Maximilian as much as he fooled himself to think so. “What is that codex you are reading?”
Nanami spoke cautiously, his eyes fixed on the codex. “Of some medical writings and scientific treatises. Rumors are circulating about a mysterious outbreak in a remote village in Constantia, a city within the grand duchy of Valoria. It seems to be an illness that is spreading rapidly with only a 2% chance of survival. I hear they are calling it the ‘Black Death’ due to the appearance of gangrene. Considering the trade routes, that city lies along the Veridian Sea, which is a path taken by the ship that trades metals and minerals with us. They engage in that route due to Constantia’s involvement with the slave trade, boarding the ship bound for Caelum for the metals and minerals, while ferrying their slaves all the way to Astheryn, their largest buyer.”
As if the gods were with you!
The topic pulled your sudden interest, for it was proving to be exactly what you needed for your plan to be successful. “An illness, you say? What records do we have about its origin?”
“Valorians perceive it as divine punishment for their involvement in the slave trade. Another prevalent theory is the miasma it brings, attributing the disease to foul odors and noxious fumes in the air and in the environment in which they live. Personally, I suspect it originates from a bacterium resulting from interactions between humans and infected animals.” Despite lacking sufficient research to support his hypothesis, you acknowledged that Nanami’s personal theory seemed more plausible. “The symptoms suggest to me that it is not airborne, contrary to what most people assume.”
You kept your eyes on him as he fixed his pince-nez. “What symptoms does it have? And what conclusion do they have there on what they are?”
“Your Majesty, a swarm of dead rats were found in Constantia a month ago,” he first informed, leading you to his suspicions. “Given the escalating tension with Astheryn and our increased need for metal to support our crafting and weaponry, I bade a dispatcher to send a message to Constantia due to their failure to supply us with the agreed-upon metal,” Nanami explained, showing a haze of regret behind in his eyes. “The dispatcher wrote back to me, stating that he is unable to return to Caelum promptly as he was experiencing chills, buboes, and gangrene. I presume he perished within days of arriving there.”
The moue you displayed on your face could not be stopped. “Does His Majesty know of these rumors in Valoria that you speak of?”
“His Majesty, the Emperor, has not yet been informed of the matter.” The blond nobleman looked at you solemnly. “It is my duty to inform him as soon as he returns from his—”
“No, you are not going to do so,” you commanded sternly, surprising him in turn. “You will not breathe a word of this to Satoru. Follow my orders, and you shall be duly rewarded.”
This was good. This was perfect for your plans! If it was true that such illness was spreading in Valoria, it would only be a matter of time until the plague reached Caelum and wiped half its population. You laughed heartily inside your head. It would be an utmost entertainment for you to watch Satoru’s downfall before your very eyes. If Astheryn was no threat to him, then biological warfare would certainly destroy him. No one else had to know of your schemes but you.
Of course, the ever-so-noble Nanami was not easy to convince, especially if it was a clash between his duty and morality. “Empress, I struggle to understand… Such matters could pose dangers to Caelum and its lands. His Majesty needs to be informed, as he possesses the authority to prevent the trade ship from reaching us. Astheryn had already long ceased their slave trading because of it. We must do the same.”
“And do you believe I lack the authority to issue commands as an empress?” You raised an eyebrow at him, and his stance became more apologetic. “Proceed with the trade by any means necessary. I will sign the permit, and the ship shall arrive as planned next Monday. Let us not allow rumors of illness to hinder us from obtaining the necessary metal from the city of Constantia. As you said, we require ample supplies for our weaponry. We must seize this opportunity to bolster our arms. Do not mention this to His Majesty, and if you dare, you shall face the punishment of having your tongue cut out.”
Nanami’s eyes widened. “But Your Majesty…”
You pressed your hand firmly against the table and asserted your authority over him. “I have control over a couple of remote islands near the outskirts of Caelum. Surely, you are familiar with them? I will direct my father, the Grand Duke, to transfer one of the larger estates to you. Furthermore, I shall offer you a quarter of my jewels and 15000 celestas as a deposit. In return, I request that you retire from your position and refrain from conversing with my husband ever again.”
It was a fair bargain. The man was certainly considering that because not only would he secure his own land and riches, he would also be away from the dangers of the plague should it truly spread throughout Caelum and its nearby nations. He would be safe there in his own estate with enough money to retire early. “Empress… whatever it may be that you are planning, this is treason.”
“This or punishment is your only option,” you declared, eyes burning with fire. “Choose wisely.”
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ACT VII
The preparation for the New Year’s ball was arduous, and you spared no effort to ensure that every detail lived up to Caelum’s prestige. Because you had a generous budget allocation for this year's banquet, you did not hold back on the display of wealth, power, and culinary sophistication. The menu alone boasted elaborate roast meats, poultry dishes, pies, pastries, desserts, and confections, accompanied by a variety of wines and spirits to enhance the indulgent dining experience. More so, the smell of luxurious dishes inside the grand hall would be enough to water the mouths of the guests.
Invitations were extended not only to the nobility within the capital but also throughout the empire, welcoming all to partake in the feast as long as they came from noble houses. The theme, as initially requested by your husband, was black and silver to match the regalia, although this theme did not extend to the guests. They were free to choose their attire as they pleased, with the only restriction being to avoid the loud colors that represented Astheryn.
It was well-known that Caelum’s nobility enjoyed flaunting their wealth and status among themselves, further highlighting the perception of the empire as superficial and governed by leaders who indulged in unethical opulence. While you may have denied such rumors, the truth remained: such ostentatious display of wealth was a century-long tradition upheld by the Gojou family to showcase the Caelum Empire as the wealthiest and most powerful across the central continent. If there was anyone Satoru should blame for this excessive extravagance, it should be his ancestors. Not you.
As the empress of this nation and the person who oversaw these types of celebrations, you saw it fit to wear an elegant gown befitting your status. You were dressed in a majestic gown of midnight black velvet, intricately embroidered with religious motifs and adorned with pearls and jewels that glimmered in the candlelight. A towering headpiece, resplendent with silver filigree and bedight with twisted crosses and angelic figures, rested upon your head as a symbol of your pretentious reverence for the church. You moved through the banquet hall with regal grace and elegance, a vision of piety and power, with your outward display of devotion masking the darkness of your thoughts inside.
Next to you was your tyrant husband, whose attire was an obsidian velvet of the finest kind. Around his waist was a thick belt of black leather cinching the robe, its buckle emblazoned with the imperial insignia. His chest was bedecked with a chainmail hauberk, a display to his martial prowess and readiness for battle, while a silver mantle was draped over his shoulders, adding to his imposing presence. Upon his head sat a crown of gleaming silver encrusted with onyx and obsidian stones.
“Long live the Emperor and the Empress! May Their Majesties reign be blessed!”
Upon your entrance down the staircase to the Grand Hall, the guests offered their curtsies and salutations to you and your husband to show their deference and recognition to the imperialty. The nobles had their chance at a brief greeting with the imperial family based on their ranking, although Satoru showed little to no care for those at the lower ranks. Nonetheless, those of lower statuses devotedly sought to curry his favor and prove their allegiance to him.
He is nothing but a fool, you thought inwardly as you watched your husband dismiss a mere count. Satoru must not have realized that those he considered of lower ranking were often the most loyal to him. They were driven by their wish to climb the upper echelon of high society, therefore, they would go to great lengths to gain recognition from the emperor. Conversely, if push comes to shove, those of higher statuses would be the first ones to turn their backs on the imperial family, as they already possessed the wealth and status to sustain their own estates and exclude themselves from the rest of the empire.
“Lords and Ladies, esteemed guests, and subjects of my realm,” Satoru spoke with gracious authority as he stood by his throne, looking down on the nobility before him, “I stand before you on this very occasion, the commencement of a new year, to address the empire that rests beneath my unwavering rule. As your Emperor, I look upon the vast land that stretches beneath me, and aim to build great cities, forge mighty alliances, and expand our dominion to the farthest reaches of the known world. Tonight, we gather not merely to celebrate the turning of the calendar, but to reaffirm the absolute authority that guides our great empire.
Let it be known, plainly and honorably, that the prosperity of this realm is intrinsically tied to the strength of its ruler. In my hands, I hold the reins of power, and I shall steer this ship through tumultuous waters with an unshakable resolve. Those who seek to challenge the stability of our empire will find themselves met with the full force of imperial might.
Let this banquet serve as a reminder—a celebration of the empire’s indomitable strength and an acknowledgment of the consequences that befall those who dare to defy it. Raise your goblets high, my loyal subjects, for we embark upon another year under the banner of unassailable authority.”
Satoru might be a terrible spouse, but he certainly was not a terrible emperor. He asserted his authority when it demanded him the most, and he knew well enough how to make his subjects cower in terror at every word he spoke. His speech was a simple warning not only to the nobles, but perhaps also to you, as he believed the prophecy pictured you as a traitor to his reign.
Initially, you could say he was wrong and that never in a million years would you betray the same person you helped ascend the throne. But now that his resolve was to entirely eliminate you in order to succeed in his ambitions, you would not deny such grave accusations of treason on your part. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. It was only too bad for him that he had no knowledge of what you knew, and that was exactly why you were ten steps ahead of him.
The sound of classical music served as a backdrop for the banquet, with the dulcet sounds of flutes, harps, and viols creating an elegant ambiance through the hall. The nobles worked on their usual slobber and socialization, usually reserved for recently debuted ladies to mark their own impressions within high society. The males were often there to discuss lands and politics or to be in search of their bride who would become the next noble ladies of their respective houses. The scene reminded you of your happy days as a once noble lady, a daughter of a duke, who was also the most popular and most eligible bride for Crown Prince Satoru among all of the nobility within the Caelum Empire. Back then, your biggest rivals were Lady Anastasia de Florentine and Lady Serena de Visconti. Both ladies came from esteemed houses and had therefore become a threat to your desire to be Crown Princess. In terms of beauty, talent, and elegance; they were definitely strong contenders. What they lacked was the wit, the cunningness in which you pride yourself with, as you ended up becoming Satoru’s choice as his empress.
You were aware that Satoru spent his years as a prince dallying with other noble ladies, even courtesans, as he himself was fair in the face. And he was aware that the ill-fate that had befallen some of those ladies were due to your own cruel doing. You tormented any lady that vied for his attention. It was not until he gave in and got to know what you offered did he stop fooling around with random whores, deeming them unworthy to stand next to him as they served no purpose for him in the long run. You offered a better role to him than the rest of them, especially with your skill as a tactician and your family’s background in the military and weaponry department, which all came in handy at the time of his usurpation to the throne.
In other words, he knew how evil you could be from day one. And benefited from you because of it.
“What troubles you?” he asked, holding your waist and your hand as you both gracefully danced in pavane. His hair was neatly brushed away from his forehead tonight, with a few stubborn strands dangling on the side. “You are unusually quiet.”
You stared at his bright blue eyes coruscating under the chandeliers, noticing how his gaze wandered to a noble lady. “It is of no concern to you.”
Satoru then narrowed his eyes at your coldness. “It concerns me greatly. What foolish game are you playing?”
“A foolish act of playing the role of your wife,” you replied, brief and stern. “Does this banquet please you? I have invited the empire’s most beautiful and eligible ladies to be your concubines. All of noble birth and of age, so fret not. You may choose anyone to your liking. May the best suit you.”
The offense you caused was evident in his visage. As much as it entertained you, he was clearly enraged and on the verge of losing it. You already knew he would just remind you yet again that he wanted to remarry instead of getting a concubine, but it was too good of a reaction to pass up on. In fact, he stared at you blankly, speechless for a few moments as he processed the implications of your words. “This is the game you play?” he murmurs through gritted teeth, a hint of a scowl forming on his face. Conflicting emotions surged within him, a mixture of anger and hurt, yet ultimately he chose not to give you the reaction you seemed to seek. “I will humor you. Where are these concubines you speak of?”
You scoffed, and then laughed out loud to the point where it gained the curious stares of the nobles. “Search everywhere, and perhaps your eager eyes may find them,” you replied with absolute delight. “But that is all they shall be—mere concubines. If you prefer someone younger than me and a virgin, that is also possible—”
“Do not get smart with me,” Satoru warned, grabbing a tight hold of your chin. The muscles along his jaw tensed. “You are but a petulant wench, a mere ornament beside my throne, lacking the wit and wisdom to grasp the gravity of imperial decree. The issue of remarriage is not a subject for jest. Know your place, woman, and consider the consequences of your impudence.”
“Is that a threat?” You returned his glare, now feeling all eyes on the both of you. The thick air of tension permeated the hall like a cloud of incoming thunderstorm.
The emperor was not one to show weakness in front of public eyes, now displaying an authoritarian mien to his wife as he tightened his hold on your jaw. “Take it as you may.”
In defense to your wounded pride, you shoved his hand away and maintained a rigid poise. “Keep your filthy hands off me, you usurping tyrant.”
As tension crackled through the hall, a hushed unease descended upon the assembled guests. Murmurs rippled through the crowd like a gathering tornado, and uneasy glances were darted between the nobles and servants as they witnessed the brewing disagreements of their imperial rulers. Some averted their gaze, feigning disinterest, while others leaned in with rapt attention, hungry for the spectacle unfolding before them.
Meanwhile, Satoru was forcing a laugh at your chosen insult. Calling him a usurper really hit a nerve, as always. “Watch that foul-tongued mouth,” he warned once more, “Barren wretch!”
Approaching one of the palace sentinels halfway across the hall, you countered your husband’s heavy footsteps by drawing out a sword from a knight’s scabbard, thereupon making a swift turn to point the silver brand directly at his throat. You had not even realized that it was Suguru’s sword that you took. Deadly silence instantly spanned the hallway, and even the tick tock of the nearby clock had stopped because of the rising tension between Caleum’s reigning monarchs.
But with one sword raised at the emperor’s neck, twenty more were directed back at the empress. Satoru’s loyal knights were quick to trap you in full circle to protect their sovereign ruler, forcing you to submit and restrain yourself from moving the sword any closer to the emperor’s throat.
Unfortunately for him, being submissive was no longer in your repertoire.
“You dare commit treason in my own palace?!” Your husband’s venomous blue eyes bore holes into your skull—his mouth thinning in displeasure as you stayed unwavered by his imperious tone. “You are too brave for an empress consort!”
“That is rich coming from a usurper himself!” you countered, satisfied by the spasm of irritation crossing his face. “Have as many concubines and courtesans as you wish, but never disrespect me in front of my people. Do not treat me as if I am lower than a mistress simply because I have not borne you a child. Do not dare to look down upon me, for I am an empress first, before I am your wife.”
What kind of psychopath was that man, truly?
You left the hall as soon as you said those prideful words, no longer wishing to hear what more intelligible things he had to say to you and of the preposterous scene in which you engaged. The more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much you had come to despise every fiber of his being. He was an ungrateful imbecile who would slay his own kin at the price of his ambitions. You may have started the quarrel, but he did not need to escalate it and put his filthy blood-stained hands on you in front of the nobles. His goal might be to put you in your rightful place. However, he chose the wrong person to be his empress. That choice alone was the start of his tragic flaw.
And with that disrespect would soon come his downfall.
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ACT VIII
Satoru struggled to comprehend the shift in your demeanor toward him and the words you chose to speak to him. He found your behavior baffling, as if you had lost touch with reason to be acting such a lunatic. You were out of your bloody mind! What could have driven you to act so irrationally, becoming incensed at every little remark he made? Was it solely because he expressed a desire to remarry for the sake of an heir and requested you to step down from your throne? No, your anger seemed to stem from deeper roots than mere marital disagreements. The hostility in your eyes said so, and it was the kind that mirrored the animosity he had witnessed in his ancestors towards their rival empire. That was the level of rancor you had of him.
Or could this be the dreaded prophecy coming to life?
Maximilian had been warning him that the prophecy was becoming truer day-by-day, and that the only way to ultimately prevent it was to banish you. It should be easy, truly, since Satoru had no problems slaying his own kin and hundreds of men. Why should another soul like yours cause such an impact on him?
Yet, Satoru found himself unable to take that step. The reasons eluded him. What he despised, however, was your increasing defiance. You were no longer the submissive wife he had grown accustomed to. Albeit your inherently strong personality, you had never before lashed out at him, insulted him, raised your voice, or shown him any form of antagonism. You always let him win arguments and understand your place. Extravagant gifts like luxurious silk dresses, rare jewels, and exotic fragrances used to be enough to maintain your compliance. Were his gifts no longer sufficient to appease you? What more did you desire from him?
Love?
How preposterous. Love was no gift.
The emperor cussed under his breath as he slid the robe off his shoulder and stepped inside the tub, soaking his naked body under the warm fragrant water. He raked his fingers through his wet, white hair, leaning his head back as he stared at the ceiling. It never occurred to him that his eyebrows had furrowed as his thoughts of you had consumed him. A small part of him yearned to punish you for your recent behavior, while a larger part of him longed to pursue you. He desired to regain your trust and devotion, no matter how absurd it might seem to others. How else could he manipulate someone who harbored such animosity towards him? You had been easier to control when you saw him past his selfishness, turning a blind eye as long as he played the role of the loyal husband.
Fine, if it was disloyalty that enraged you so, then he would show you. In another way. That the loyalty you seek still possessed him somewhere.
The subject of his plan stood in his privy chamber, assisting him as he bathed that morning. He had long noticed this particular servant’s subtle attempts at seducing him, but had always chosen to ignore her as he never felt tempted to indulge. Instead, he found it somewhat amusing that she would willingly display her body to him in private settings like this. Perhaps, he mused, it was a message to him, indicating her desire to ascend to high society by becoming his concubine. She likely sought to escape her life as a mere peasant and elevate herself to the status of a noble lady. She may have even heard of his sexual escapades back then as a wayward prince who entertained different ladies in his chamber before he married you. That was probably why she wanted to take advantage of the carnal weakness that she thought still lingered within him.
This strumpet. Satoru scoffed inwardly as he watched his personal maid pick up the bottle of lavender oil from the floor. She had purposely unbuttoned the top most part of her attire so that her voluptuous breasts would pop out like two balloons sitting on her chests. Appearance wise, it was clear that she had tried to put on cheap rouge from vermillion or beetroot juice, tinting her lips a brighter red than usual to complement her fiery, ginger hair. Her eyes were lined sharp from the soot, as though she was trying to resemble the empress’ seductive eyes.
“Your Majesty,” she spoke in a seductive voice, finding her seat at the edge of the tub as she poured the fragrant oil on the hot water. She raised her skirt higher as an obvious attempt to show off her legs, and offered a better view of her huge breasts as she leaned forward. Now that she was closer to him, he could see her taut nipples peeking behind her thin layer of clothing. “Do you wish for me to bathe you?”
His lips may have curled upwards into a smirk, but his eyes were as terrifyingly sharp as ever. “Do you want to die?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, feigning her innocence as she received his warning. “No, Your Majesty! I do not wish so.”
“Why do you presume your body to be more desirable than the empress’s?” he challenged, aiming to deflate her pride and turn her foolishness to his advantage. She would serve as the perfect pawn to regain his wife’s favor. “My wife has the most flawless figure I have seen in a woman, and yours is what? Do you boast of your breasts that resemble a cow’s?”
“I…” The servant stammered, clearly offended as she got up from her seat and attempted to mask the embarrassment that appeared on her face. Satoru raised an eyebrow and waited for her response, while she gathered her courage to deny his claims. “Forgive me, my lord, if I have offended you.”
Satoru shook his head in amusement. “What is your aim, then, if not to manipulate me into bedding you? I do not associate with trollops.”
Caught red-handed, she stumbled and bowed her head at the lowest possible level before him. “I beg your pardon, Your Imperial Majesty! I merely sought to assist you in the birthing of an heir. I am not barren like Her Majesty the Empress, and I can assure you I will bear fruit even if you only do me once.”
“Get on your knees,” he ordered, stepping out of the tub and wrapping his bare body with a robe. “Are you certain of that?”
Her eyes pleaded for desperation to become his mistress. “Certain, yes! I am certain, my lord! And I will be a loyal subject to you unlike the empress—”
“Pardon?” As if her words intrigued his ears. In a swift motion, he turned to the servant and looked down at her with his cold, scrutinizing eyes. “Unlike the empress? Repeat your words with caution. You are maligning the most noble woman of this empire.”
It did look like she found her way out of his criticism by directing his ill-temper towards his wife. “Your Majesty, I do not mean to slander your wife. However, it is true that Her Majesty is engaged in an affair with your commander of knights! I saw the empress and Sir Suguru in an intimate embrace some days ago, hurrying through the halls as if they did not wish to be seen!”
The emperor’s expression hardened at the servant’s accusation, his brows furrowing with disbelief and anger. His hand tightened into a fist as he processed the shocking revelation.
“Are you telling the truth?” His voice was low, carrying a dangerous edge that hinted at the storm brewing within him. The accusation struck at the very core of his trust and authority.
The servant's gaze faltered under the weight of the emperor's scrutiny, but she remained resolute. “Your Majesty, I speak only of what I have witnessed with my own eyes. By my oath and by the sanctity of God, I swear upon all that is sacred, it is no lie.”
Satoru’s mind raced with conflicting emotions, but he showed none of his inward thoughts outwardly. Instead, he delighted in this ideal opportunity for him to deal with gaining your devotion again.
“Undress yourself. I want you bare and without any clothing,” he said, his voice cold and measured, “And you shall remain in this chamber until my return.”
With that, the emperor swept out of the privy chamber at once, leaving behind a stunned and apprehensive servant. She believed it to be her sign of good luck. Of good fate. That she now found her place as a mistress to the highest ruler of this nation. She could not believe her destiny as she triumphantly unclothed herself, peeling every fabric off her body with excitement as she imagined the things the emperor would do to her upon his return. She would definitely have to deal with his wrath since he just found out that the empress betrayed her, but she was willing to have him use her body and let his anger out on his adulterous wife. An emperor with a distracted mind would be her ticket to being impregnated by his child. Soon, she would be his concubine, she would be the mother of a future emperor.
She would never again have to suffer as a servant!
Upon the sound of footsteps nearing the privy chamber, the servant provocatively sat at the edge of the tub, displaying all of her body to him and him alone. “Your Majesty, I am ready for you.”
“Are you?”
Horror washed over the servant’s face, her heartbeat increasing tenfold as she saw the empress sending an icy stare into her as she stood by the privy chamber’s entrance. Behind her were her ladies-in-waiting throwing their judgeful stares at the naked servant, surrounded by knights who seemed to have come under the emperor’s orders. The emperor! There he was, appearing behind the empress, kissing her cheek and encircling her waist, whispering to her that the servant had attempted to seduce him and had even accused his wife of infidelity. Satoru’s actions struck the servant as reminiscent of a child tattling to his mother. He adopted an air of artificial innocence, as if his only intention were to win the empress’s trust.
“Send this harlot to the throne room,” he commanded his knights, his voice loud and clear. “Let it be known that there will be consequences for those who dare to deceive their emperor.”
At the throne room, you found yourself seated at the elevated throne next to your husband. This was a place in the castle where the trials of the accused were often held, and now the accused kneeling before you on the lower part of the hall was a lowly maid which Satoru had claimed to have seduced him and besmirched your name.
Did he think you were stupid? You knew what his ulterior motives were. You were aware of his covert schemes, and that his sole attempt at orchestrating this entire spectacle was to use the maid to regain your trust and obedience out of gratitude. He was clearly at an unrest ever since you had been defiant to him and he was doing the best that he could to make you submit to him. He was desperate to show you that he was on your side, believing that by reporting the maid’s advances, he could convince you of his loyalty. Satoru must truly underestimate your intelligence if he thought that such acts would restore his control over you. But for the sake of a good show, you decided to play along.
As customary, the emperor presided over the trial, while the accused maid stood before the imperialty, her eyes downcast, while whispers could be heard through the assembled courtiers.
Satoru announced her sin in a commanding yet measured voice. “Maiden, you stand accused of attempting to seduce the sovereign and spreading slanderous falsehoods regarding Her Majesty’s honor. These are grave charges that strike at the very foundation of our empire.”
The accused maid trembled slightly but remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground. She seemed to be having a battle in her head, realizing that she was being used by the emperor’s cruel game. What did she expect of him? You rolled your eyes. Satoru was a known tyrant. She would never last a day being his mistress, much less a concubine. You were the only lady in this empire that could handle him.
The emperor then turned to you as he continued with his speech. “As for you, my wife, you have been accused of a betrayal that, if true, would bring shame upon the imperial family.” He paused, his expression grave yet contemplative. “Therefore, I shall leave the judgment and punishment of this matter in your hands. Only you know the truth of these accusations, and it is your virtue and integrity that will determine our course of justice.”
You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous this was. Now he was even entrusting the maid’s punishment to you? His tactic obviously consisted of two things: 1) giving you the authority to impose punishment on the accused would make you liable for the consequences tied to the matter 2) if proven not guilty, you would have to face the shame of your misguided punishment. Because Satoru was not certain that you were having an affair, he was putting you on the spot to decide the punishment you would give based on your conscience.
Either that or he may have simply intended to convey trust in your judgment by allowing you to administer punishment. This could be a gesture aimed at restoring your sense of authority and influence within the palace. However, given the complexities of your relationship and the context of the situation, it was likely that his motives were more layered and multifaceted.
“How do you feel about it, Empress?” Satoru asked, his demeanor strangely calm. “Perhaps we could administer ten or twenty lashes? Or have her confined to the dungeons?”
Oh, did he assume you were not capable of being creative with punishments? You were not one to shy away from brutality like him. In fact, you had something better in store for this servant of his.
The courtiers listened intently, their eyes locked upon you as you spoke. “It is my judgment that the maid shall be subjected to the punishment befitting her transgressions.”
A hushed murmur erupted through the assembled crowd as they awaited the empress’s decree.
“Firstly, the maid shall be paraded through the streets of our capital, stripped of her garments and bearing the shame of her actions for all to see. Let her walk the path of humility, that she may reflect upon the consequences of her deeds.” Your cruel words carried a weight of overwhelming gravity as you announced the first part of the punishment and proceeded to the next. “Furthermore, the maid shall be delivered unto the custody of our executioners, who shall mete out the final aspect of her punishment. Let her be subjected to the pear of anguish, that she may atone for her sins and serve as a warning to all who would dare besmirch the name of their sovereign.”
The courtiers exchanged somber glances, trembling out of fear at the severity of your inhumane judgment. Even Satoru himself was shocked at the lengths you had chosen to take just to punish a lowly maid. Why was he surprised? He, himself, was entertained at the usage of the brazen bull, roasting his enemies alive as a punishment. The pear of anguish was not even as severe as his usual choices, as its purpose was to have a pear-shaped instrument be inserted in the maid’s vagina, and expand it to the point of internal injuries and mutilation.
“No! No! Your Majesty!” she cried, her words choked with emotion. She quivered in terror and fell to her knees. “I implore you, have mercy on me! Spare me from such unspeakable agony! Forgive me for my transgressions and the harm I have caused. Please, grant me the chance to repent and seek forgiveness. I shall never again show myself to you. I beg of you, Empress Y/N, spare me from this horror!”
Her voice echoed through the hall with her desperate plea for clemency amidst the shadow of her impending doom. In the silence that followed, your eyes caught the guilt spreading on Satoru’s face. His blue eyes were, for a second, wide and horrified. But he was quick to compose himself and keep yet again a rigid face.
“Very well.” Satoru gestured to his knights to take the maid away. “Do as my wife says.”
“My liege, this is preposterous!” In the midst of the tense atmosphere, one advisor, a voice of dissent, stepped forward, his expression grave and his tone measured. Lord Maximilian was only intending to address the emperor, completely ignoring your right as the empress. “Your Majesty, the Emperor,” the advisor spoke respectfully but with conviction, “I humbly beseech you to reconsider this severe course of action. The pear of anguish, in particular, is a device of unparalleled cruelty. The punishment is more severe than the crime committed!” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I propose a more measured punishment, one that upholds the dignity of your sovereign without plunging us into the depths of brutality. Perhaps a period of confinement or hard labor could serve as a more merciful yet effective means of retribution. This way, Your Majesty, we demonstrate both strength and compassion that define thy sovereign rule.”
“Compassion?” you scoffed, humored by Lord Maximilian’s little speech. His pretentiousness was truly out of this world. He was obviously against it because he refused to see your authority over the court restored. He had not even a single idea that you were already aware that he had been conspiring with your husband to execute you. “You speak of compassion and mercy, Lord Maximilian, when this empire had seen the ruthless perish of a thousand Christian souls under your counsel to the emperor. Is that not ironic? What about the fate of his lordship, Count Stefano, whom you ordered to be skinned alive? And what of the men whose corpses were speared on pikes by the Tiber River? Now, tell me about that compassion.”
Satoru, stuck in the situation, scanned the throne room and searched for his voice of reason. The man who always stood his ground between good and evil. Lord Nanami. Yet the man was nowhere to be found. “Is Lord Nanami present? Summon him to me.”
“I am afraid not, my liege,” spoke one of the courtiers, “He had left Your Majesty a letter advising of his immediate need to be on a sabbatical. He cited no reasons as to why.”
“Is that so?” your husband’s face contorted into confusion, while you were exchanging glances with Suguru, who seemed slightly aware of your participation in Nanami’s sudden absence. However, he spoke no words about it.
And no one else also said another word, therefore, leaving Satoru to move forward with your decision on the punishment. If he was smart, he should see that your decision was not just a mere punishment to the maid but as a warning from you, that he was not the only person in this empire capable of being a tyrant. That you, as devoted as you used to be, could also be cruel if you wanted to be.
You ignored the maid’s screams of terror as the knights took her away. You kept a dignified appearance and walked out of the throne room, followed by your ladies-in-waiting as they engaged in gossip about the maid and how she had always spoken badly of the empress. You wished you cared, but truthfully, you were far too nauseated as you walked through the hallway heading towards the western wing of the castle, hearing your husband’s voice calling your name.
What did he need? Your gratitude? Your declaration of love? Your pledge of allegiance?
Frankly, you cared none, as your extreme nausea eventually had your visions blurred, and your body fainting on the marble floor.
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ACT IX
Your head ached.
By the time you opened your eyes again, it was already past noon. No, it was evening, was it? You were lying in Satoru’s bed while its owner was engrossed in a conversation with a physician. You briefly recounted the events before you were carried here, remembering the trial at the throne room, and how you fainted while walking back to your side of the palace.
“Are you certain?”
“I am certain Her Majesty is with child, yes.”
“How is that possible? We have tried for eight long years.”
“We owe this blessing to God, my liege. Your desire for an heir has been granted.”
You were… with child?
You could not believe it. As the whispered revelation reached your ears, the news brought you a swirl of emotions, for the delicate life growing within your womb just challenged the very foundations of your plans. A child. A baby. A life was growing inside of you! It was not just any other life, but an heir to the throne! A byproduct of you and your husband!
But what about your revenge?
You had a moment of introspection as you imagined yourself at a crossroad of destiny. Should you persist with your plot to topple your husband’s rule, or should you embrace the newfound responsibility and safeguard the legacy that had taken root within you? The precipice of your decision would depend on Satoru’s reaction to this matter. Your decision would fall upon his level of trust in you.
For eight years, you had always wanted to carry his child. You had always dreamed of bearing his heir. This was the very reason why the prophecy existed in the first place, and now that you were pregnant, should that mean that he would no longer find the need to remarry and execute you? Should that mean that the prophecy was false after all? The oracle was a heretic through and through and he never should have consulted with her to begin with.
“My wife.” The gentle caress of Satoru’s voice soothed your aching head. It only took you then to realize that the physician had already left you two alone, and now your husband was sitting on the edge of his bed, touching your cheek. “To think,” he mumbled, his voice tinged with wonder, “that our union has borne fruit at last. Now, we have an heir to carry my legacy.”
He was joyous. He was surging with happiness which was glowing within him, the kind of joy that you had never seen before as he embraced his beloved wife and shared the news. For a moment, your heart melted and you were ready to forsake the grudge you carried in your heart as he proved his reaction to be genuine. His eyes sparkled like jewels as he placed a soft kiss on your belly, then moving to press his lips onto yours.
You wanted to cry. You wanted to tear up as never in your life had you received this much level of affection from your own husband. He had never looked at you with such adoration and respect for the longest time since he had been with you. No, this was the very first time he had truly acknowledged you as his wife.
“Am I no longer useless to your eyes?” you asked, carrying a hint of sadness on your tone despite smiling at him. “Will I no longer bear the title of a barren empress?”
Satoru solemnly shook his head and kissed your hand, your cheek, and your lips. “No. Each tongue that rises against my wife shall fall.”
You were uncertain whether it was you or him who pulled each other for an embrace, but the gravity that brought you to two together was of mutual force. He held you in his arms tenderly just as you enveloped yourself in his warmth. So this is how it feels like to be loved? You were in complete bliss. You were free from the emotional torment that—
Knock, knock!
The abrupt knock on the door interrupted the intimate moment between you and your husband, diverting his attention to the intruder who dared disrupt the special moment. Satoru, no doubt, was already thinking of potential punishments in his mind as he summoned his attendant to enter. The attendant conveyed that a knight sought an urgent audience with him, but what could be so urgent at this dead of night?
The intruder, to your surprise, was none other than his knight commander, Suguru.
“Suguru?” Satoru faced him with a more lenient countenance, “Speak briefly.”
The knight commander glanced at you before he knelt on one knee and looked at the carpeted floor, delivering a message that required urgent and utmost attention. “Your Imperial Majesty, we have discovered a group of knights clad in silver armor, mounted upon war horses lining the city’s border. My men have identified the potential invaders as the Aurorae Heavy Cavalry of the Astheryn Empire.”
“What?!” Just like Satoru’s explosive reaction, you were also surprised by the news. You knew Astheryn was ready for war, but you did not expect them to move so rashly. Satoru knew he was right to conduct a military inspection a week prior, because now, in spite of his growing temperament, he was also mentally prepared for an all-out war. “Those Astheryn bastards! How many are they?!”
“Estimated at about 1000 units, my liege.”
Your eyes widened in disbelief. A thousand foreign soldiers stationed at the border of the Caelum Empire was undeniably an invasion. The audacity of this act, carried out without any prior communication to Satoru, no wonder fueled his anger like a volcano on the brink of eruption. It was a blatant disrespect to him as an emperor and to his lands as an empire.
“Double the numbers of our infantrymen and dispatch them to the border!” Satoru’s voice carried a low growl, his hand instinctively reaching to massage his temples as he pondered a course of action. “They must comprise our most elite unit. I demand these men be vigilant and alert at all times. Anyone caught sleeping will have their eyes gouged,” he ordered, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation. His eyes held fury in them as he silently paced back and forth in his chamber. However, just as Suguru made to depart, Satoru’s hand halted him mid-step. “Better yet, remain here and stand guard over my wife,” he commanded, his voice taut with resolve. “I will issue the orders to the army personally and confer with my chief tactician.”
Your husband had already left before you could even stop him. His presence, in a mere blink of an eye, was gone as he stormed out of the chamber, yelling out, “That bastard Toji will die by my hands. How dare he!”
And now you were left with his commander of knights, Suguru, who looked at you in concern as you made an attempt to get out of bed. He was quick to catch you in his arms, guiding you to walk carefully. “Is it true?” you asked, face inches close to him. You could feel his hand on your waist, and the other guiding your arm. “Astheryn’s invasion?”
“Empress, it is of utmost importance that you remain within the safety of His Majesty’s chamber," Suguru advised, his fox-like eyes seemingly enamored by your face. “Your well-being is paramount, particularly at this moment. I understand now why you have been looking so radiant.”
You smiled at his words. "And what might you be implying by that?"
“That our beautiful empress bears the heir to the empire,” he spoke softly. “This is a direct contradiction to the prophecy. Are you happy, my lady?”
As you nodded, you felt Suguru placing a gentle kiss above your hand, still kneeling before you like a true, loyal knight. He looked at you with a gaze filled with the desire to protect. His chivalry was evident in his demeanor toward you, the most beautiful lady of the empire. Unbeknownst to you, Suguru had long been captivated by your beauty. From the moment he first came to your family’s estate to train as a knight, he harbored a wanton desire for you. Yet, he struggled with his feelings, torn between his admiration for you and his loyalty to Satoru, his friend and lord. How could he? He should punish himself for having a mere attraction to the emperor’s wife.
“Suguru, I expect you to be loyal to me until the very end,” you interrupted his reverie, bringing him back to the present. “Can I count on that from you?”
Before the knight could respond, a fit of unhinged laughter echoed through the chamber. There, your crazed husband walked in, his sardonically joyful eyes wide with paranoia. “Ha ha ha! Absurd! Utterly preposterous!” His loud voice reverberated through the walls, his mind now free of the on-going invasion and was instead evidently consumed by the scene before him. “My wife, you jest, surely? Suguru, tell me this is some jest! Loyalty, indeed, I have full faith in your loyalty, but this... the maid’s accusation. It is true after all?!”
Immediately, the knight commander moved away from you and scrambled to kneel down at the furious emperor. You yourself could not hide your growing anxiety, but it was best to keep calm and explain the situation to your husband properly.
“My liege, it is not what you think,” Suguru swore to your husband, who was now laughing maniacally.
“Ah, so you two conspired!” Satoru’s eyes darted between you and his friend. “I see it now, the hidden plots, the whispers in the shadows. My wife and my loyal knight, plotting against me. Speak, reveal the treachery!”
You shook your head, maintaining your composure. “He is telling the truth. There is no affair—”
“Silence, you wicked bitch!” By this time, Satoru was throwing a tantrum, kicking the nearby console table and throwing the first vase he saw.
Suguru rose, his voice pleading, "Your Majesty, I..."
“Get out or I will eviscerate you in front of her!” Satoru’s words cut through the tension, and Suguru, after a moment of hesitation, took a deep breath and left, casting a worried glance at you before exiting. It was clear that Satoru was in a state of manic denial, with his laughter echoing through the chamber like a haunting refrain.
Alone with him now, you observed his demeanor, noting the same scene of past trauma in his laughter. It was reminiscent of the night his sister perished for committing suicide—a portrait of a man on the brink of madness, masking his torment with deranged laughter. Each step he took towards you carried danger. “This... This child you carry is a bastard, isn’t it? That child is not mine!”
You shot him a look of disbelief, refusing to entertain such absurd accusations. “You are talking nonsense!”
Enraged, he seized another vase and hurled it across the room, the sound of shattering porcelain ringing through the chamber, though you maintained your composure despite the sudden chaos. You must not act weak in front of a tyrant. At this rate, he could kill out of impulse, but you were careful not to pull the trigger.
“My wife thinks I am lost in a mire of absurdity?” Satoru’s laugh rang in your ears again. “Conniving bitch! Tell me, what am I to do with this wretched child you carry? Shall I slice open your belly and rip it out myself?”
Slap! A resounding slap, sharp and clear, graced Satoru’s cheek as his words drew tears from your eyes. Despite the welling tears, you mustered enough courage to respond. “If you question the lineage of this child, is that not a questioning of your own fertility? Do you deem yourself barren, unable to sire your own bloodline? If so, you have long scorned me for lacking an heir, yet now you cast doubt upon the child that I carry. Useless, you have called me. Now, useless, you call yourself! A barren emperor, unable to secure his own legacy. Is that what you perceive yourself to be?”
“Hold that tongue, you impudent wench!” With a rough hand, he grabbed your arm and tightened his hold so much so that it would leave bruises. “Here I stand, grappling with a war that has the power to shape or shatter my own legacy, while my own wife wanders about like a wanton whore?”
A whore? You laughed, as equally maniacal as him. No, a lot worse than him. How foolish of you to think that your husband was someone you could trust your life with? You could not believe that you almost let your guard down in front of him after you learned that you were carrying his child. Yet here he was, spouting nonsense like an absolute fool. He only judged what he saw, not analyzed what he was yet to know. This was exactly why Emperor Toji would always be a smarter ruler than him.
“I am your wife, and I have stood by your side through thick and thin. I have shared your lows and highs. I have seated you at that very throne! Therefore, I will not dignify such insults with a response.” Each word left your mouth with gritted teeth. This was your future, peeled off for your eyes to see. No matter how much you cared for him, no matter how loyal you were to him, no matter how much love you offered to him; you were nothing but a woman ready to be thrown at his disposal. It hurt. Truly, it hurt. And because you loved him, you tried holding onto the thin string of hope that he was true to you. That even if he could not love you, he still trusted you. That was the foundation of your relationship from the beginning. Trust. And that will be your ultimatum to him. So, with a shaky voice and tearful eyes, you asked, “I require nothing else from you but this… do you even trust me?”
His answer was a make or break.
His answer would determine whether you would carry your plans out or not.
Because if he said yes, then you would forsake everything and be loyal to him without his unconditional love.
But if he said no, then there was no point at being his wife when your role would always be easily replaced.
Satoru’s stolid mien was an answer in itself, because his blank gaze and unsympathetic expression sent your heart to the ninth circle of hell. “No,” he declared, “I never have and never will.”
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT X
Four days.
Or perhaps five?
The days blurred into an indistinguishable haze since your husband’s decree consigned you to the confines of the west tower. Unlike the dungeon, reserved for commoners and lower ranks, the western tower housed nobility and imperial captives. Though superior in amenities, it remained a prison in essence. There was only a solitary window within the cell that offered a scant glimpse of the world beyond. The view was barely within your reach as it was too high up for you to be able to see outside.
You were treated no less than a rebel. Accused of treason. Accused of infidelity. Your reputation as an empress was tarnished, excluded from social circles, excommunicated by the church—at least, these were some of the things you have heard from the passerby, the attendants who do their nightly rounds in the west tower. The attendants and guards themselves no longer respected you, although you could still sense that they were cautious around you. Afraid that if the emperor were to change his mind and release you, that you would remember their faces and get back at them with brutal repercussions.
It was entertaining, truly. It was even more humorous to watch the attendant serve you with soup and bread day and night. Judging by the distinct odor, the soup was laced with arsenic. Someone was definitely trying to poison you, but you were certain that it was not orchestrated by Satoru. Not him. He was too stupid to conjure such a plan as it also contradicted his penchant for more direct and violent approaches. If he wanted to assassinate someone, he would rather crack their skulls or slash them in half. He was too bloodthirsty to kill someone by means of poison.
So that left you with one person: Lord Maximilian.
Your father, the Grand Duke, promptly sent you a letter after hearing that you were locked up in the west tower, assuring you of his efforts to persuade Satoru to release you and clear your name, demanding your innocence be proved to the empire. He also cautioned that it might be a considerable amount of time before your husband could address your case, given the pressing matter of the Astherean army’s invasion on Caelum’s borders. In your head, you knew Satoru was having a hard time dealing with the military conflict without your counsel. It was your mind that staged the coup, leading him to his succession ten years ago. Now, without you, he was faced with difficulty. He did not even have Nanami by his side to guide him through the war.
You laughed. Good for him.
On the seventh day, your father wrote again. This time, he informed you that there was a ceasefire between Caelum and Astheryn. Apparently, Caelum was struck by the bubonic plague. Astheryn withdrew its cavalry out of fear of losing their soldiers from the Black Death, while Caleans were left to suffer from the spreading disease. The citizens were going mad, panic was ensuing, and there was food shortage everywhere. No one knew what the cause was nor how to cure it. He said those who had caught the disease would fall to their deaths in a matter of days.
You laughed again. That is my own doing, father.
Three days later, another missive arrived from the Grand Duke, informing you of his recent audience with Satoru. Your father let you know that the Emperor still held a lingering wrath towards you, but he confirmed that your trial would be scheduled shortly. The letter also conveyed unsettling rumors of your potential deposition, suggesting that Satoru entertained matrimonial negotiations with Princess Katarina from the Kingdom of Ellesmere.
You laughed even more. A remarriage, just as he wanted.
On the fourteenth day, your father did not write. He visited you on the western tower himself, somberly informing you of Suguru’s demise. He revealed that the knight commander had been thrown in the dungeon on the same day you were taken to the west tower, but he was treated more harshly. He was tortured, mentally and physically, until he met a gruesome death. Your father chose to spare you of the details of Suguru’s tragic fate.
At that, you could not laugh. No, in fact, you cried silently in your cell that night knowing that an innocent man died ruthlessly because of you.
What a hypocrite you were!
The burden of introducing the Great Plague to Caelum, resulting in the deaths of countless innocent citizens, rested on your shoulders. Yet, your moral boundary seemed to be drawn at Suguru’s demise?
You found yourself engulfed in laughter once more, disregarding the puzzled stares from attendants and guards alike. They may have deemed you mad, yet perhaps, madness was the only sane response to the chaos of this world. Why? What was there to be ashamed of? Life was but a game of strategy, a grand chessboard where the king, though less agile than the queen, would always be the last man standing.
Seated in a corner that night, your laughter mingled with tears, a mix of raw emotions unleashed, as the echo of approaching footsteps reached your ears. The flickering torchlight casted a shadow upon the wall, revealing the silhouette of a tall man escorted by two knights.
“Y/N.”
When Satoru visited you on the eve of your trial, you never expected him to call your name so tenderly. What you were anticipating was his usual torrent of anger and scorn, and you found yourself bewildered by the odd shift in his demeanor. He then entered your cell and crouched before you, his blue eyes seemed almost softened by sympathy.
“Your trial is scheduled for tomorrow,” he spoke deliberately, though you avoided meeting his gaze. “I have a proposal for you.”
You remained silent.
“Even if you have betrayed me, I will extend mercy to you out of gratitude for aiding my ascension to the throne.” The irony of his words were a slap to your face, hurting your ears as you listened. “I require you to step down from your throne with humility, dispose of the bastard you carry, and live a modest, solitary life in the countryside. An estate awaits you there. You will live quietly and await my visits. You will remain my mistress, though it will not be officially acknowledged.”
As the emperor’s words were spoken, the empress’s laughter erupted with a wild and bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. Your eyes blazed with defiance, lips curled into a scornful sneer.
“Ha ha ha!”
Satoru’s lips tightened a fraction, his body turning into solid ice as you let out an ear splitting horselaugh.
“Ha ha ha ha!”
His eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Empress!”
“Fool!” you spat, your voice laced with derision. “You think to offer me mercy while chaining me to a life of servitude? You speak of gratitude while stripping me of dignity and autonomy. Your offer is just another prison, a way to keep me as your pawn!” Your laughter turned into a manic fervor, fueled by rage and disillusionment. “I will not bend to your will, nor will I accept your false benevolence.”
In the end, Satoru was still a hubristic man. An ungrateful, hubristic man. An ungrateful, hubristic, foolish man.
“Are you aware of your current standing?!” He was livid. Oh, he certainly was.
Yet you? You smiled. You offered him a beautiful, sarcastic smile. “No soul in this empire will love you except for me! All are foes to you, except for me! I alone have loved you for you. Think about that, my misguided husband, for in your quest for power, you have forsaken the one who loved you sincerely.”
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT XI
“We gather today for a matter of great import: the trial of Her Majesty, the Empress, accused of treasonous infidelity.”
As the trial went on, your thoughts drifted back to the day of the maid’s trial. Then, she knelt beneath the throne, facing the scrutiny of the court as she protested her innocence and pleaded for mercy. You, once seated upon the now-vacant throne, regarded her with detached interest. The irony of the reversal was not lost on you. It was true that you would pay the price of your wrongdoings, and be rewarded for your kind deeds. In this life, you let your greed get the best of you. You let your love for Satoru blind you. If you were ever to be reborn, you vowed to never again allow yourself to be ensnared by such folly for it led you to nowhere but misery.
How funny is that? These nobles were all here to watch your trial, while a war and plague were happening outside of the castle’s walls.
“—may our deliberations be guided by the righteous light of truth. Empress Y/N, you appear to be in jest. This trial is a serious matter to thee.”
You received the courtier’s look of disapproval, while the others were judging your sanity.
“Let her be,” ordered Satoru, who looked tired and resigned. You could hear his sigh even if he was a couple meters away, and his eyes glowed in sad blues as he stared at you, as if it would be the last time he would ever see your face.
Perhaps that truly was the case, and you made no effort to fight against it nor did you appeal to prove your innocence. There was no mercy begged for, no forgiveness sought for. It was because you saw no purpose to live this life. He must have sensed your true feelings inside as he watched you from afar, but Satoru still seemed like he was looking for a way to get you out of the situation. Instead of imposing a tyrannous punishment on you, he was clearly attempting to make you innocent. To give you a benefit of the doubt. All of the courtiers and advisors, however, were in complete disagreement. They knew that the emperor held a soft spot for you, but they did not know that his only purpose was to keep using you.
Honestly? Your mind was growing weary. The trial dragged on endlessly as Satoru struggled to mitigate your punishment. Not until…
“His Majesty, Emperor Satoru, has been consulting with an oracle,” you declared, silencing the entire hall with your revelation, “He keeps the old lady hidden deep in the dungeon. Do you all hear me? The emperor of this nation is involved in heresy and must face an inquisition!”
Your accusations, indeed, were grave. An eerie and portentous air filled the throne room as Satoru himself was stunned and wide-eyed. Surprise contorted his features after he was exposed. His lips quivered and his jaw muscles tightened, and anger soon smoldered all semblance of composure on his saintly face.
Caelum was a deeply Catholic nation and the Catholic Church, as an institution, did not endorse or recognize oracles as legitimate sources of divine revelation. Practices associated with oracles, such as divination, fortune-telling, and consulting spirits, as forms of superstition were heretical. These practices were considered as attempts to circumvent the authority of the Church and seek guidance from sources outside of the orthodox Christian belief.
Individuals suspected of engaging in practices associated with oracles, particularly if those practices were perceived as challenging the Church authority or promoting beliefs contrary to Catholic doctrine, could be subject to investigation, trial, and punishment by ecclesiastical authorities, even if they were members of the imperial family.
Thus, in your revelation, Satoru was now subjected to a much more serious, unforgivable crime than you. Because he would be at war with the Church.
And not only would he be at war with the Church, but also with Astheryn, and the Great Plague all at once.
Of course, Satoru intensely denied it and tried to turn things around on you. He was going haywire as your ‘accusation’ caused a commotion amongst the courtiers who whispered and murmured in shock and disbelief. As the emperor, his voice held the greatest authority in that hall, and so he became furious at you, claiming to everyone that you were diverting the situation to seem innocent, denying the existence of an oracle in his castle, and that you were to be publicly executed for the crime of commiting lèse-majesté by slandering the emperor’s name.
Finally, the tyrant was back.
You were sick of his sympathetic gazes.
If your husband knew you by heart, then he would know that your sole intention at declaring his fortnightly consultations with the oracle was because you wanted to anger him, and in turn, get a punishment that would be enough to free yourself from his grasp. That was the perfect approach.
But of course, Satoru might be slow in that department. All he could see right now was a traitorous wife whose malicious intent was to undermine his authority and topple him from the throne. An enemy. That was what you had become to him.
On the day of your public execution, your father cried. And so did your ladies-in-waiting. The rest were eager to see you beheaded, all with keen eyes as you were ushered at the public square, drawing in a large crowd of nobles and commoners alike.
Who would have guessed that you held such notoriety?
The words, “witch!”, “traitor!”, and “evil!” were thrown your way as you were guided by two knights towards the center of the scaffold. With a rosary on one hand, and a bible on the other, you looked at your father. He should be safe. You had written him a letter, telling him to bring the family and the servants to a remote island away from Caelum. As for you, your end was near.
With your head pressed against the block, and the executioner raising his sword, your impending doom was imminent. The imperial sword he carried, you recognized, was Satoru’s personal and favorite sword.
“Your head will be severed swiftly,” said the headsman, “Any last words?”
Your eyes found the sky as your lips curled into a sinister smile. “Citizens of Caelum, I will soon meet your Emperor in hell!”
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
ACT XII
A month has passed since your execution.
Instead of having your decapitated head impaled on spikes atop the city gates, Satoru ordered your corpse be buried at the tomb. The location was not revealed to anyone else. The citizens also did not question his choice.
The emperor was secretly grieving the loss of his wife.
Everyone knew. They were all aware that the emperor was mourning over the empress despite her betrayal of him, yet all of them turned a blind-eye on it. They were afraid that the emperor would punish anyone who would remind him of you.
Was this still not an act of love?
In fact, no, not everyone knew. Not everyone was aware that one of your lady-in-waiting swore to him in oath that you never had an affair with the knight and that the child you carried was not at all a bastard, but his. It was Satoru’s heir. It was his own child. His own flesh and blood.
Because of his misjudgment and his paranoia, he lost the only woman who truly loved him.
Now the empire was in shambles. Satoru could not deny that your lack of presence in the castle had a much more devastating impact than the plague that wiped half of Caelum’s population. His advisors were of no use when it came to military tactics. Nanami, the most competent of them all, was nowhere to be found. The soldiers have been struck by the Black Death, lowering his total heavy infantry down to a quarter of its nominal full strength.
The plague had spread rapidly, causing widespread devastation and food shortage, and as the death toll rose and communities were decimated by the plague, desperation set in. There were villages that had more dead people to collect than living beings who survived. It was a state where all were affected no matter what their noble rankings were.
People tried various remedies and treatments, often turning to religious practices such as prayer and penance in hopes of appeasing divine wrath and stopping the spread of the disease. Plague doctors also swarmed the streets with their dark canvas robes and beaked masks, implementing quarantine and treating infected individuals.
Satoru secluded himself in his chamber, both day and night, observing the devastation of his empire from the castle’s highest vantage point. Desperation ran rampant, driving citizens to seek sanctuary within the palace walls. Initially, the emperor permitted entry only to the highest-ranking nobles. However, as word spread of the palace offering refuge, lower-ranking nobles and commoners clamored for entry, prompting Satoru to order the complete fortification of the castle walls.
The stench of burning bodies permeated the air as the castle became besieged by the diseased, seeking entry but met with the fierce flames intended to ward off infection from the emperor and his staff.
“What is the news about the Kingdom of Ellesmere?” Satoru, who had been suffering from high fever, muscle pain, and skin lesions, was accompanied by a state of paranoia as he spoke to Lord Maximilian. “My marriage negotiations with that… that princess. What do they say?”
“My liege.” He bowed, apologetically. “They no longer wish to proceed. As we are struck by the plague, King Kalleon VI thought it would be of no benefit to be in alliance with a fallen empire. Furthermore, there is something that you must be aware of, Your Majesty.”
The emperor looked at his advisor.
“The trade ship that caused the plague to spread throughout Caelum was…” the old man paused, wary of the ruler’s reaction, “It was approved entry by the late Empress Y/N.”
Ha ha ha ha!
How twisted of you, indeed. Where does he go from here? Satoru was sick, genuinely sick, as he heard the clamor of diseased individuals rioting outside the castle walls. Inside the palace, his own people were also engaged in their own chaos. He was at a point where he was too fatigued to react violently at his wife’s crimes. What did Maximilian want him to do, chastise you? You were already gone, and you have left him with the most profound revenge than any punishment he could ever fathom.
Satoru found himself consumed by a maelstrom of emotions. He was seeing red from his visions, and seeing black from his discolored skin. Gangrene. Buboes. Chills. All he could do now was laugh at his misery. He grappled with the haunting question of how he arrived at this wretched juncture. What deeds, what choices, led him down this harrowing path of suffering and despair?
Lord Maximilian made one last attempt at coaxing the emperor. “My liege, the prophecy…”
The mere mention of the prophecy, however, ignited a primal fury within him. His words filled Satoru with a seething rage and he entertained the notion of silencing Maximilian’s voice forever, drawing his sword and executing a swift slash on his advisor’s neck.
That damned prophecy!
That, that was what led to all of this!
In the depths of his suffering, Satoru had experienced the last stretch of the disease entering his body. He was vomiting, crawling on the floor, reaching for the window in hopes of seeing his empire for the last time. But eventually, his weakened body had him submit to his forfeit.
In a matter of minutes, he would soon find death and earn his place at the ninth circle of hell.
In a matter of seconds, he would soon be named the most hated emperor in history, just as you like it.
⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶♱⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷
EPILOGUE
In the aftermath of the plague and the cessation of war, the once-mighty Caelum Empire lay in ruin, its rulers, named the most evil Emperor and Empress in history, overthrown. The remnants of the imperial lineage crumbled under the weight of their tyranny. Rising from the shadows of despair emerged the newly crowned Emperor Yuuta, the only remaining lineal heir of the Gojou lineage, who returned to Caelum with a fervent commitment to restore and rebuild. Known for his fairness and compassion, Yuuta pledged to rebuild the empire, to heal its wounds, and to usher in an era of lasting peace. With each brick laid and each decree issued, he sought to honor the memory of those who perished and to ensure that the horrors of the past would never be repeated. And so, under Yuuta’s steadfast guidance, the Caelum Empire embarked on a journey of restoration, its future brightened by the promise of a new dawn.
tags. 1.6k wc, dad!zayne, mom!mc, domestic fluff, slice of life, established relationship, brief mentions of pregnancy, zayne in scrubs *phew* bc need i say more. divider by anitalenia.
if zayne were ever to have kids, he’d have liked two.
a girl and a boy. not because he believed in symmetry or balance, but because he imagined them leaning on each other the way siblings in picture books did—arms slung over shoulders, shared secrets in the dark, always knowing they weren’t alone. that’s what he’d wanted for them. companionship and safety.
and that day, in the quiet lull following a ten-hour triple bypass surgery, he was reminded of that wish.
you sat on the little couch tucked into the corner of his office, the one he’d insisted on keeping even when they offered to replace it with something more suitable for the chief cardiac surgeon. but that couch had warmth stitched into its seams, and it reminded him of home. the kids were curled up beside you, both fresh from school, still in their matching navy sweaters and slightly crooked socks. your daughter, older by two years, had her head resting in your lap, while your son perched at the edge of the cushion, his feet swinging above the floor.
“mommy,” he asked, his voice sticky with curiosity, “how does daddy fix hearts?”
you smiled, smoothing your daughter’s hair back from her forehead. “well,” you began, your tone soft and thoughtful, “he does surgery. that means he opens the chest to get to the heart.”
they both stiffened with the delighted kind of horror only young children could summon. “he cuts people open?” your daughter gasped, her eyes going round.
you solemnly nodded. “yes. he makes a careful cut. then he opens the chest so he can see the heart. it’s very delicate work.”
your son’s face crumpled in awe and fascination. “like a... like a treasure chest?”
“kind of,” you said, chuckling, “only instead of gold, there’s a heart inside.”
your daughter shuddered dramatically. “ew! that’s so creepy.”
zayne stood in the doorway then, unnoticed. still in his navy scrubs, cap tucked into his waistband, his hair a little messy from hours spent in the OR. he looked tired, shadows carved beneath his eyes, but his mouth tugged into a quiet smile. you didn’t see him yet, but he saw you—all three of you—and it filled something deep in his chest he hadn’t realized had gone hollow during the hours of cutting and stitching and praying beneath the surgical lights.
“do people die?” your son asked suddenly, looking up at you with wide, serious eyes.
“sometimes,” was your honest answer. “but daddy works really hard to make sure they don’t. he’s the best there is.”
“so he’s like a superhero,” your daughter concluded. “but for hearts.”
before you could respond, you heard the subtle shift of shoes on linoleum, and turned your head to see the man of the hour. leaning against the frame of the office door, arms crossed, tired but watching the three of you with a soft, fatherly smile. you just couldn’t ever get used to the way your heart raced at the sight of your husband.
“you guys talking about me?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse from hours of breathing through a mask.
“daddy!” and of course, his kids squealed in unison, springing from the couch and bolting toward him. he caught them both easily, pulling them against his sides like puzzle pieces falling into place. his hands were still cool from scrubbing out, but they didn’t seem to notice. or maybe they didn’t care. they were too busy clambering over one another to tell him everything you’d just said.
“daddy! you cut people open!”
“you open their treasure chest!”
zayne laugh came out raspy, and you knew that meant exhaustion. but the joy in his eyes concealed the tiredness he carried. “is that what mom told you?”
“uh-huh! and then you look at their heart and fix it like legos!”
you raised your brows at him. “legos? that didn’t come from me.”
your husband shrugged, adjusting your daughter on his hip. “not technically wrong.”
“do you use glue?” your son asked seriously, squinting up at him.
“sometimes.” zayne knew it was best to play along. “we have special glue for blood vessels.”
your daughter gasped. “that’s so gross.”
“no, it’s awesome,” your son countered.
zayne set them down gently before walking toward you, his steps a little heavy from the long shift. he leaned down, kissed your cheek, and murmured, “thanks for covering the debrief.”
you smiled up at him. “they had questions.”
he sat beside you with a quiet groan, his leg pressing against yours. the kids climbed right back into the space between you, curling close like this was just another part of their daily routine. maybe it was.
“can we be heart doctors, too?” your son asked, tucking himself into zayne’s side.
“if you want to,” zayne replied, brushing a hand through his son’s hair. “but i think you’d be an amazing engineer.”
“what about me?” your daughter demanded equal attention.
he leaned in and tapped her nose. “you? i think you’d be a writer. or a lawyer. or maybe an astronaut.”
“what if i want to be a bunny farmer?”
zayne thought for a moment. “then i’ll build you a bunny hospital.”
you laughed, covering your mouth as the kids began to plan their future bunny farm, arguing over weather conditions and carrot rations. zayne didn’t say anything more. he just leaned back slightly, one hand resting on your knee, the other curled protectively behind your daughter’s back. he listened to their chatter, his eyes finding humor in their animated conversations. he was probably thinking, ‘they definitely got that from their mom’.
in retrospect, he had fixed countless hearts in his life, stitched vessels, replaced valves, saved lives. but this… this quiet, chaotic, precious moment? this was the one thing he’d gotten perfectly right.
although, you did want to admit that it was difficult to have a decent conversation with your husband while in the presence of your hyperactive kids. thankfully, it didn’t take long until you heard the soft tap of shoes on the hospital floor. the door creaked open, and in walked yvonne, the hospital’s nurse and receptionist, smiling fondly at your little family.
“hey, kids,” yvonne said brightly, “how about you come with me? i’ve got something special for you.” she paused, then with a wink, added, “dr. greyson’s got some treats in the breakroom.”
the kids’ eyes lit up, and without another word, they scrambled off the couch, practically tripping over their own feet in their hurry to follow yvonne. they were already chattering excitedly as they followed her down the hall.
as soon as the door closed behind them, you relaxed back into the couch and exhaled deeply. zayne, still in his scrubs from his long surgery, scooted closer and pulled you by the waist. he looked tired, but there was a softness in his gaze that was just for his wife.
“well,” you said with a light chuckle, “it’s nice to finally get some privacy.”
zayne’s smile was tender. “don’t get used to it.”
you laughed. “honestly, though, i’m surprised i don’t get jealous of yvonne. she practically has the kids wrapped around her finger. and she takes good care of you here.”
only then did your husband’s smile falter for a second, a brief moment of amusement flashing across his features. “jealous?” he repeated. “you’re jealous of her?”
“i just said i’m not,” you clarified. “but… well, she’s charming. sweet. she always knows exactly what to say.”
“you,” zayne cut you off, “are everything to me. i don’t need anyone else.”
you knew you’d always been his number one, but you always felt reassured when he said the exact words you wanted to hear. it was enough. and it always worked this way through your years of marriage—a little hint of jealousy could easily be fixed by reassuring words.
whatever zayne said, you believed. there was a sense of solemnity in his words that you’d be a fool to doubt him. perhaps, it was why your kids get scared when their dad gives them a little scolding.
“speaking of work,” you said, shifting slightly, “how did the surgery go? i heard it was a long one.”
zayne sighed at the remembrance. “it went well,” he started, “the patient is stable, but her family... they couldn’t pay the full fees. they just didn’t have the money.”
you frowned, your heart aching at the thought. “but you’re not charging them?”
“i waived my professional fees. i asked the husband to reach out to the government for financial assistance. they’re eligible for some kind of medical relief.”
you blinked in surprise, touched by your husband’s gesture. “you did that?”
he shrugged, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “it’s what i would want if i were in their shoes. i was never after the money when i practiced my degree.”
“if it were me,” you thought out loud, “what would you have done? if i needed that kind of help... would you have helped me?”
zayne turned to you fully, his eyes softening with sincerity. “i’d do whatever it took,” he firmly answered. “even if you needed a transplant, i’d give you my heart without hesitation.”
it might sound like a silly thing, but his quiet declaration tugged gently at your heart. there was a kind of love in his eyes you couldn’t quite put into words. and somehow, you were the one lucky enough to receive it.
he’d fixed countless hearts in the OR, but you knew, in this moment, that the heart he valued most was the one beating inside you.
maybe that’s why now felt like the perfect time to bring up what had been weighing on your mind all day. the very reason you’d driven straight to the hospital after work.
“well, as it turns out,” you brought up, shifting slightly, “i’m not pregnant. i got my period today.”
zayne let out a soft chuckle. “well, two kids are enough for now, don’t you think?”
you pouted, feigning disappointment. “but i want one more.”
he grinned and kissed your forehead. “you can try again next month. i’m sure we’ll make a whole team of little heart doctors.”
