Hello, I’m Elwin! I post from a lot of different fandoms but only really write fanfiction for The Lunar Chronicles. Due to work and university classes I don’t write as much as I used to, but I still have a butt-ton of writing. (My fics span to my literal first attempts at writing, so some fics are better quality than others.) I will link my masterlist below. I also tag all my stories as #salt warrior stories.
My ask box is always open, and I do take fic and drabble requests. In the past I’ve only taken TLC, but I’m open to other fandoms and other ships now. However, these days I’ll only really do a request if I love it, so there’s no guarantee that I’ll actually do your request. If you have questions, just ask!
Imperial Adviser Konn Torin’s hand paused mid-air from where it had been directing bodies to a bay of ships.
“The queen!” screeched the young woman, rushing into the crowd of diplomats. She was plainly dressed in a beige tunic—the rank of a servant, and Torin didn’t think he’d ever seen one of Luna’s maltreated servants acting of their own volition.
The clatter of Lunar aristocrats and frightened Earthen leaders filled the loading docks. Since the emperor had threatened to bomb the protective biodomes, the crush of people were practically clambering over one another to board the ships. They hadn’t heard any updates on the situation unfolding in the throne room since Kai had raced off to find Linh Cinder.
“What? What does she mean?” reverberated off the walls. People stopped on the ramps of the ships, watching on curiously.
“Queen Levana is dead! She was shot!” the servant choked out. Her cheeks were coated in tear tracks, her eyes manic. Torin wondered if this state of delirium had arisen from loyalty to the queen, or rather, disbelief that the tyrant could be truly dead.
“No!” cried an older man, whom Torin recognised as from one of the Lunar families. His age was only apparent from the startled slip into his natural, worn voice. Recomposing, he asserted, smooth and youthful, “This is just speculation!”
“Princess Selene shot her!” She circled aimlessly, recycling the news to every guest that would listen. “The queen was shot! She’s dead!”
A hundred murmurs repeated those words under their breath. The Lunars connected eyes in horror—and some—feigned sympathy.
The Earthens barely held back raucous cheers.
Torin’s ears tingled. He was not a man wont to extreme emotional fluctuations, but this news almost stopped his heart. Could it be true?
Realisation swiftly cloaked him. Kai went in search of Linh-dàren. If the Princess did shoot Levana, what other blood might have been shed?
Kai.
He abandoned his position as sentinel and reached a fellow Commonwealth representative. “Ensure that everyone remains here until you receive an all-clear,” he instructed. “We cannot yet substantiate this claim. I will go and locate His Majesty.”
“We will wait for your return,” the man replied, bowing.
Torin shook his head as his mind paced two, three, ten steps ahead. Leaving this dock now could very well risk his own life. “I may not be able to. Lend me your portscreen and I will comm Representative Li with updates.”
The man nodded and unclipped the device from his belt.
Taking it, Torin marched ahead, ignoring the whirlpool of sentiments trying to suck him back in. The cacophony was barely distinguishable, but laughter and crying and cheers spoke much of its meaning. Fury. Rejoicing. Anticipation.
———
The trek to the throne room was much shorter now than it had been an hour ago. The once packed hallways were now absent of officials, flashy nobles, servants, even guards. It was almost ludicrous to imagine that the coronation had been on that very same day when so much carnage and destruction had occured in such little time.
Fierce shouting grew louder as Torin neared the throne room. He began to run, turning the corner to a swarm of bodies blocking his path. Doctors and nurses wearing bloodied scrubs were huddled, shouting, “Pulse is weak! We need oxygen, stat!”
He came to hover nearby but could not identify the victim past the doctors’ tight shoulders. His own pulse faltered as it led him to the worst scenario. Where was Kai?
“He’s inside.”
He spun on his heels towards the magnificent mahogany doors. The voice was heavily accented—American—and weary.
Torin composed himself. “Thorne-jūn,”
Carswell Thorne had not struck Torin as a serious or even responsible man in the brief time they’d met. Yet the man in front of him now looked broken and old. He was covered in blood, his clothes ripped.
“He?” Torin ventured to ask.
“Kai. He’s inside the throne room.” Carswell’s heavy eyes scrutinised Torin—flitting from his white dress shirt down to his dark pants. Pulling an arm from behind his back he revealed a black suit coat draped over his elbow. “I think this is yours.”
Indeed it was. Torin had lent it to Kai’s young friend Crescent, hoping to calm some of her hysteria. But if the small, frightened girl was not wearing it, where was she?
“I had no intention of reclaiming it,” Torin said, taking the jacket into his hands all the same when proffered to him. It was damp and left redness in the creases of his palm. “Where is Darnel-mei?”
“She was hurt,” Carswell said, voice barely audible and tinged with…shame?
He chose to not enquire further as to what this implied. As Carswell’s hazy gaze attached to the retreating backs of the doctors, Torin wondered if the victim was Crescent. And if Carswell Thorne was somehow responsible for what had befallen her.
Partly relieved but not yet satisfied, he straightened. “Is the emperor all right?”
“Dunno. They wouldn’t let him follow her.”
His brow furrowed. Kai did seem to care for Cress, but not enough, he thought, that he would abandon his search for Linh-dàren.
The two exchanged a nod. Carswell staggered away in the same direction as the doctors. He may be in need of a doctor himself, or at the very least, a glass of scotch.
Once the young lad was out of sight, Torin cast the jacket to the ground and thrust open the heavy doors.
A figure lay sprawled on the marble floor. Getting closer, Torin’s blood congealed. It was Kai. Blood pooled around him and over the throne near where he lay, dark like the black strokes of a Japanese ink painting. The stone of the backrest was cracked in the centre.
“Your Majesty!” he cried, racing over and halting just before crashing into Kai. He slid to his knees, examining his body with burgeoning dread. “Where is it?!”
Completely dazed, shock written over his face, Kai murmured, “What?”
He seized his hands into his own. “Where were you injured?”
Appearing confused, he squinted blearily before following Torin’s gaze to his own torso. His white coronation outfit was bright red, his skin slick with blood.
“Oh,” Kai answered flatly. “Not me. I wasn’t…It’s Cinder’s.”
Torin pursed his lips. …Cinder’s?
Kai tried, weakly, to wipe it from his arms.
Blood. Cinder’s blood.
Torin shifted his hands to the boy’s forearms, pulling him to his feet. “Where is Linh-dàren now?”
“They just took her.” Kai’s empty gaze drifted to the doors. Ah. It was not Crescent that he’d seen being carted away.
He recovered his sensibility rather remarkably. “Shall we follow them, Your Majesty?”
Kai rubbed at his eyes. Torin hadn’t seen the boy this shellshocked since the death of his mother. “No…I don’t know if Cinder…they wouldn’t let me follow her.”
He scoffed, guiding Kai to the entrance. “You are the Emperor of the Eastern Commonwealth and the King Consort of Luna. You can go where you please.”
Kai dully shook his head. “Was King Consort.”
As they reached the doors, he retrieved the black dress coat from the ground and draped it over Kai’s stained shoulders. “If Princess Selene survives—as she will—you very well may become King Consort again someday. We will not let mere doctors stop us.”
Slowly, a light filled the boy’s vacant eyes, as if waking up from a nightmare. Without notice, he took off.
Torin fell into step, trying to match Kai’s steady pace. But Kai had transformed, emboldened by the promise of again seeing his princess. Flickers of a rowdy ten-year-old and then a slouching fifteen-year-old returned to Torin; along with his reminders to walk orderly, like a prince should.
But this determination was nothing childish. This was the gait of a man in love.
———
Blood had dribbled on the marble floors like proverbial breadcrumbs for their quest. Streaks dragged through it, suggesting fast footsteps. Neither Torin nor Kai knew where the medical wing was located, yet the second they saw that crimson evidence, Kai began running.
Slow down, Torin wanted to call for both their sakes, because the emperor would overexpend himself, and Torin was not a young man. But such a request would be cruel to him now.
They were not the only ones running. Servants fled the hallways while others huddled in trios with nervous murmurings. Just as Torin was about to reach into his pocket for his inhaler, Kai skidded to a halt. A crosspath emerged—to the left, a lavish hallway of purple carpets, ancient moon sculptures and a grand piano at its end. The right, stale white walls, dim lights and no such frivolities. In between these two was a large reflectionless window, slightly ajar. Cries of battle and howling slipped through from below.
“Your Majesty, should we perhaps—”
Kai chose right and sprinted. This time, Torin could not keep up.
As he bumbled after him, he passed Carswell Thorne, standing at a distance from a different mob of doctors. They surrounded a gurney, and when Torin saw a gleam of a shimmering orange skirt, he now knew where Darnel-mei was. Slumped against the wall nearby was a disorientated red-headed girl, cradled in the arms of one of those ghastly wolf soldiers. Torin choked on his tongue but then recognised the particular shade of green in the beast’s eyes. This was Kai’s ally, whom he had met when they concealed the Rampion in their ship on the journey to Luna. He reproached his own thoughts for the snap-judgement, especially when the man held the girl as though she were the finest bloom in a garden.
Turning the corner, Torin found Kai beside a flashing red operating room sign, motionless as a nurse explained the imperativeness that he do not impede their recovery efforts.
Resigned, he bowed his head. “Do your best, please,” came his weak voice. He watched—jealously, Torin thought—as the nurse whisked behind the large double doors.
The port at his waist pinged, an unfamiliar chime that reminded him it was borrowed. He punched in the override access code, opening to a comm from an Eastern Commonwealth officer.
“Kai,” Torin called, gently. “Her Maje–Her Highness, Princess Levana has been confirmed as dead.”
Staring at the closed hospital doors, Kai nodded. “I know. I saw her.”
And then, the memory of the throne returned to Torin. Certainly Cinder hadn’t been seated there. But it too was tainted with blood, and that pool contained much more than a single body could have produced. He drafted the cracks in the seat in his mind, the point of impact small and precise.
Princess Selene shot her.
Her body must have been taken away before Torin had arrived. But not before Kai had seen it.
The raging battle below their feet niggled at his thoughts. Hesitating, he recommended, “I suggest we declare temporary control, until Her Majesty The Queen’s status is known.”
Another slight nod. “Tell them…as King Consort, or…whatever. Just direct them to stop the fighting.”
He bowed and turned. He would first comm the Eastern Commonwealth officials to handle the loading docks, then contact their own fleet of security to instate control. Perhaps they could reason with the Lunar guards to help as well. The wolf soldiers would be impossible to restrain, but if they could at least remove the thaumaturges…
He compelled his muscles to contract, to walk forward, unsuccessfully. His feet were solid beneath him, his conscience arguing.
Torin heard a shaky exhale.
He could not leave Kai.
He spun back around and covered the distance. “Kai.”
Kai’s gaze arrived, weakly, in that of his mentor’s. It was the little warning he received before Kai buried his eyes in his wrists, sobbing.
“I can’t…” he choked. “I can’t…”
Torin planted stabilising hands on his elbows as they trembled with his shuddering breaths.
Anyone in New Beijing Palace could have attested to the fact that Konn Torin was not known for having a propensity for affection. But Kai, he realised bleakly, guiltily, had hardly hugged a body since the late emperor’s demise. That was unacceptable.
The distance discarded, his shoulder offered, Kai collapsed into him.
“It will be all right,” Torin promised into his hair. “She will be all right.”
Shouting chased them from the closed doors; elevated alarm from hard-wearing professionals that made Kai gasp. Torin covered the boy’s ears. He needn’t know what lay behind those doors. Because none of them knew. There were no protocol-issued, well-worn documents assuring that Selene would live. They could only rely on her demonstrated stubbornness and talent of living to spite all naysayers.
But Kai’s father had been determined. Kai’s mother had been stubborn. And they were both dead. Torin had lost two great friends but Kai had lost his parents. If he let this spread to his heart, he may never awaken from this grief-stricken stupor.
“Kai,” Torin breathed, “You must live.”
“...What?” Kai whispered, confused.
He pulled back, hardened eyes peeling away to reveal softness. “No matter what happens to her, you must live.”
Kai looked to the ceiling. “I know…my people…”
“No. You must live for her. And for yourself. Only then can you have the strength for your people.” He wiped the tears away with his sleeve. “She needs you right now.”
“I can’t do anything for her right now, Torin,” he argued miserably.
Despite it all, Torin smiled. “Do you really believe that?”
Kai’s sharp inhales syncopated with the beeps and clangs from within. Torin had always answered his questions. ‘Towin, why can’t I play with Daddy in his meetings?’ ‘Torin, why do I have to go to the gala?’ ‘Torin, why is Mama sick?’’
This question, only Kai could answer.
As those eyes had managed every time before, they reached a horizon point somewhere over Torin’s shoulder, and the determination crystallised. Torin masked a sigh of relief. For a moment, he truly believed this time might be so severe that there could be no return.
Another embrace, this one Kai initiated and pulled away from resolved. “Call off the fighting and order the thaumaturges back into the palace. I’ll collect the Eathern leaders from the docks and have them organise the crowds. We need to remove the wounded from the battlefield.”
“Shall I divert medical resources to those groups?”
“Yes,” he ordered, turning on his heel and his feet moved in step with his thoughts. “Repurpose as many rooms in the palaces as needed. Send”—he paused, briefly, slipped a look at the closed doors, and righted himself—“Send our own medical staff as well.”
Torin followed dutifully. “And…you’ll leave Linh-dàren?”
“This is what she needs me to do right now.”
In this moment, Torin was walking beside his dear friend Rikan. This boy, this emperor, galvanised for a new purpose. To prepare Luna for its queen. To carve out a space for Linh Cinder to fill. To aid her as a friend, an ally, a partner.
The closer they got to the docks, the louder the shouting became. Frantic servants and muddled aristocrats still cried the refrain: “The queen is dead!”
No. The queen would live, and Torin dared to hope in it.
Bonus
Sometimes, Cress felt like she was getting the hang of this being around people thing. Sarcasm was becoming more obvious. Body language more telling. But then there would be a little quirk of human interactions that would demonstrate just how unaccustomed to everything she was. Today, she learnt about sneaking up on people.
Cress was halfway through closing the door to her suite when a voice purred, “What perfect timing.”
She gasped and flung around to the apparition.
“Captain!” she exclaimed, clutching her stomach. The jolt was not kind on her still-tender stab wound.
Thorne grinned, all purple button-up and dimpled cheeks and bergamot cologne, materialised in the spot that was seconds-before empty. “Hey darlin’.”
Cress pried away her hand before he noticed it serving as an anchor and got that guilt-tinged frown. Any reminder of his (unwilling) role in her injury was a doleful experience for them both. Still, at least she could now walk without fearing her intestines would unravel.
“You scared me half to death.” She batted his shoulder.
A pleased look spread over his face. “Stealth is one of my greater qualities.”
She blinked at him. Repeatedly.
“Okay,” he relented, tone faltering. “Not necessarily.” He jutted a thumb at the door behind him. “But my room is just opposite.”
“So that gives you the right to near knock my soul out of my body?”
“I was simply coming out to say hello. I can’t believe that you’d accuse me of trying to catch a fright from you.” Thorne rested a hand on the door frame, pressing her back to the door as he craned his neck towards her. “I wouldn’t do that to my girl.”
His girl. Her heart began dancing an Irish jig for an entirely new reason. At least if she swooned from giddiness, he was in prime position to catch her. “Did you come to tell me something?” she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.
“Oh, you know,” he drawled. “I was checking out Cinder’s new place, all the bells and whistles. It’s not bad.”
“It isn’t bad,” she agreed. “It’s magnificent.”
“It’s no Rampion.” He retracted his hand from the doorframe to take hers. This time, she could look at him. “I stumbled into the gardens—nice, sure—but something was missing.”
“A waterslide?”
“Your hand in mine.” he corrected. He kissed that hand. “As long as you’re up to it, would do me the greatest honour and accompany me for a stroll?”
Her stomach throbbed. She shouldn’t walk for more than ten minutes at a time, and she’d already walked all the way to and from the dining hall for breakfast that morning. But her excitement rang louder than the ache.
“I know, it’s tough to think of an excuse not to go,” he said. “But I promise it’ll be fun. I even brought a token as a security deposit.” Reaching to his back pocket, Thorne procured a single rose, pink in its petals and tinged with brown at the base.
Cress pulled it into her fingers, awed. “It’s beautiful!” she cooed, burying her nose in the creation. “It’s a rose, right?”
He looked surprised, but only momentarily. “Indeed. You’ve probably never seen one before.”
“No.” She twirled it in her fingers, eyes fixed on the rich, fathomless colour. Oh, now she understood why roses were romance personified. She noticed that they were thornless, though she wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t. She happened to like Thornes a good deal. “Do they have more?” she asked, eyes gleaming.
“Hundreds, sweetheart.” He looked smug. His plan had succeeded beyond expectations. She was too happy to care.
“In that case, yes, of course.” She turned to the door, saying, “I'll just pull on a jacket,” when a knife twisted in her gut. She clutched her side, gasping as Thorne stole her shoulders into his hands.
“Cress! Are you okay?!”
She gritted her teeth, hissing and attempting to take air into her lungs until the pain finally subsided. “I’m fine,” she said wanly.
He frowned. “No, no you’re not. You should’ve told me the pain was acting up.” He wrapped his arms around her sides supportively, sighing. “You need to lie down.”
“No!” she protested. “No, I want to come.”
He cast her a grim stare then pecked her cheek. “Tomorrow, okay?”
She scowled. Her injury was a poor wingwoman to her romantic life. “Okay,” she conceded, only slightly mollified.
“Here. I’ll help you get into bed.” Thorne pulled a hand away from her waist to push open the door.
Prickling erupted on her skin. She suddenly remembered what lay inside. “Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s not that bad—I can just—”
“Nonsense.”
She barely cried a “wait!” before the door swung open and the evidence spilled out in a rich floral perfume.
Thorne walked them both inside, gaping at the garden on the centre table. A mammoth bouquet of lilies, peonies, gazanias and foliage reached almost up to the ceiling. He plucked the creamy white card from the base and read it aloud:
In hopes of a swift recovery. Best Wishes, Konn Torin.
Thorne hadn’t yet blinked. Cress just about felt his token wilt in her hand. “I still love your rose,” she assuaged.
Thorne lowered the card, staring dejectedly at his intimidated rose. “I need to up my boyfriend game.”
She laughed. Cress tucked the rose behind his ear, giggling at his quizzical look. She leaned up, thirty excruciating stitches be damned, and planted a firm kiss on his lips. She pulled away. “Let’s start with that date tomorrow.”
Notes
This one's for me and @hayleblackburn, maybe the only members of the Konn Torin fan club. We're a small but loyal pit crew 😔✊
I think the reason why fics where kai is heavily grief stricken and slowly succumbing to heartache are so good is cause they show how much he loves Cinder in a way, just through pain
Kai fans to Kai.
But yes, you're right. It shows the depth of his emotions.
Hello, I like your art..., could you do where Cinder and Kai are in the elevator where they almost kiss?
Sorry for taking so long, I had to redraw it a few times and then delayed it more after I experienced the feminine urge to sculpt an axe for my parrots. I technically did this two years ago, but here’s a new one because I don’t want to look at it.
