party 4 u ༉‧₊˚..⋆♱
"I have a confession I must reveal to you, your grace," he whispers, barely audible above the loud strummings of the orchestra whose music notes billow through the large yet crowded ballroom. I entertain his request, as I have been during our spontaneous dance, giving him a slight nod of continuance. He hesitates then, catching me by slight surprise since he has not seemed to have known the meaning of silence since whisking me off to the floor. He smiles all the same, a glint unknown in those all-consuming brown eyes. "Well, out with it," I gently coax. "You've no trouble speaking your mind prior. What prevents you now?" His gaze downcasts, but for only a moment, before meeting with mine. "Please, forgive me if I am placing such expectations on you with it being our first meeting," he begins, seeming to still be stalling. "Your grace, I never cared much for religion or understood the desire to be saved by someone viewed as holier than though. However, if you were the one blessing the Holy Water that I have always avoided, I would never go thirsty again, and I would be forgiven of all my sins for the rest of my days." My feet involuntarily come to a halt in the middle of the dance, a few other guests bumping into my stilled frame as I gape up at this man, this stranger. My mind runs tenfold to comprehend what he has just said to me, this confession equivalent to a man driven by lust. It drives me right through the overly done ballgowns and atrocious suits, bursting through the doors and down the wing that is closed off to guests. Though, I hear footsteps trailing close behind. "Your grace, wait!" He follows anyway, and I roll my eyes.
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synopsis: kou is supposed to be celebrating her arranged engagement to her childhood friend; however, she ends up lured into what she thought was a harmless dance by a simple stranger that turns into a desperate, second proposal.
introduction: tonight's performance is an imminent tale for a work of fiction still in progress, in which our female protagonist is a dutchess to her adoptive family, the shakespeares, and her hand promised to her lifelong friend, and - on most days - benevolent prince, his highness chuuya nakahara. please meet the bungo stray dogs original character, and your narrator for the evening: jyn kou, who has the unfortunate displeasure of being tied by perilous red strings to a more malevolent - and rather hands-on - high prince, his highness osamu dazai. i hope you enjoy this rendition of "party 4 u" by cambridge's own charli xcx in a royal retelling of these two disasters having another first meeting; and somehow love at first sight is no longer a faithless hoax.
kou and dazai get thrown into another universe, and he's just bridgerton-style down bad, alright? also, if you read my fic, you know her and chuuya's fate; so, don't be surprised at how this goes.
content: ~7.4k words; fem!oc; no abilities, royal/regal au; sfw but mentions oral and alluding to sex; mentions dazai-typical womanizing behavior; he's a bit persistent, even after she says 'no'; it's as if he is a mix of the ada and pm version of himself; religious themes and metaphors - refers/equates her to an angel/saint a lot; mentions beheadings; mentions of eye gauging; mentions preserving a human heart; emotional cheating; excessive sfw touching; attempted murder? (dazai deserves it); obsessive and possessive dazai if you squint.
this is not completed in the slightest and is actually for a chapter that does not happen until way down the line; i just needed to get this written down, and i crave validation so i am posting it. it is my first time posting a fic/story here on tumblr dot com, so please go easy on me.
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆
“All I’m thinking, all I know is that I hope you knock on my door.”
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“You look to me as if I am your savior? Have you any sense? We have only just met!” I try to rush away from him, the heavy fabric of my ballgown bundled into my fists, a grip tighter than what the maids use to clean our clothes in the basin. The hall is just too vast and grand for me to make enough distance between us, especially with how long his legs are compared to mine, and I can barely move in these garments. Damn this party and the unnecessary need to always look our best.
“I have yet to have a sensible thought since laying eyes on you!” He calls out, his voice echoing off the adorned walls, his steps audibly quickening to match with my pace. A hand is carefully but firmly grabbing my arm, causing me to jerk it back and whirl around to face him, his widened brown eyes shining like pieces of perfectly preserved amber under the glow of the chandeliers that line the ceiling. I was already having difficulty breathing due to how tight my dress fit to my body, but now I am huffing as if I have been running for miles.
“Do not touch me,” I try to maintain my composure, reminding myself to remain lady-like and poised. “We are alone, and I am here as a lady spoken for. It just… It isn’t right.” I shake my head, avoiding the possibility of looking back into his mischievous eyes, being lured and tempted by his lack of carefulness.
“Two people can talk, can they not?” He eases, a light laugh coming out after. “Please, your grace, accept my deepest and most sincerest apologies for upholding you on a pedestal made for the saints.” He suddenly bows low, his arm across his torso, and this doesn’t seem to be the same man who approached me with such candor. “When I first saw you, I thought you an angel that had gotten lost amongst us mere mortal men.” His head comes up enough to hold eye contact, that mischievous glint reappearing, and I fear the rouge slathered across my cheeks are not properly hiding the natural flush I can feel forming. I scrunch up my nose, so desperately wanting to abandon my formality to tell this man to “get lost”.
“You are an artist of flattery,” I manage, taking a small step back as he rises, though his own steps follow. “However, I dare say, you are coming off as more confident than I would care to tolerate. I said I was spoken for; I am here in celebration of my engagement, not in search of a suitor.” His lips form a deceptively kind smile, a well-rehearsed and carefully crafted sign of dignity and royalty. My eyebrows furrow in confusion, recognizing an expression like that from afar with my eyes closed. It is the one I had been trained to use when addressing anyone I found to be difficult. I believed him to be someone of lower rank, a viscount a generous estimate, and I may have been mistaken.
“Oh, my fallen angel,” he murmurs, his hand daring to rest underneath my trembling fingers, and bringing them to his lips. A gentle but lingering chaste kiss is left behind, burning my skin that travels with much haste through my entire body. I could almost feel the fire he ignited right to my very bones. My breath catches in my throat as my eyes grow large in shock at his audacity, but I can’t pull myself away. “You have made yourself a temptress and it wasn’t even with your meaning to. As I have now seen you, spoken to you, and touched you, I will never be able to live and breathe the same.”
“Well, you will have to find a way because I cannot allow you to continue showering me with these flowery false pretenses,” I slip my hand from his feather-light grasp, taking another step back that bumps into the wall, making me trapped between it and him as he has taken more cautious steps in my direction. “You believe you can win any woman over with such forcefulness? It is not attractive in the slightest!” My voice carries now, bouncing back into my ears, and I can feel the blanket of mortification encroaching over my shoulders, warming every inch of my skin. If we are caught, I surely will be ruined.
“Your heavenly grace, I assure you I have never needed nor desired to be this forceful,” he whispers, having enough respect to keep us separated so that we are not touching; however, I can see every imperfection embedded in his irises from how close we actually are while he gazes down at me. “I fear I have been driven completely mad, and the thought of never having you at my side for the rest of my days has worsened my sudden condition.” My beating heart seems to thrash about after hearing those words, splayed out in the open air between us, stated plainly and pointedly in a hushed whisper only meant for the two in this absurdly quiet hall.
“Allow me to fetch you a doctor then, to see if we can get you an anecdote,” I force out, my words shaking as they tumble out past my lips, and my fingers intertwine with the long pearl necklace that became abruptly too heavy. “Because I assure you that I am not the medicine you are seeking to cure your disease-ridden mind.” He simply smiles then, something with a semblance to adoration igniting in those hot whiskey eyes while he holds his ground, unmoving and unwavering.
“Has anyone ever told you how striking your eyes are?” His head tilts as he gets irresponsibly closer, his hands remaining behind his back. “Such a remarkably, unusual shade of blue. Almost as unusual as the fair prince that hosts us.” His brows come together for a fleeting moment, his careless smile becoming puzzled as a hint of his facade drops. “My apologies, you said you were here to celebrate your engagement?”
“Yes, you finally have pulled your head from the heavens long enough to actually listen to me?” I huff, becoming more constricted in my torso when my lungs work diligently to keep air flowing properly. I’d love nothing more than to be out of this dreaded ensemble. His eyes roam, making me feel exposed and filthy, not at the prospect of him wondering what is underneath this gaudy dress, but what is underneath further. The things that wouldn’t be known to the naked eye, the secrets that lay below, deep within your existence. As if his fingers take immense care to flip open my pages, minding his own not to crease or bend them, keep them in perfect condition while he reads, taking special caution not to miss even the most minor of details. He deems himself worthy and deserving to indulge himself in my subsistence, and I have unknowingly given him that permission.
“And who must I duel to the death for your hand to be in mine?” He takes one last step further, any closer and he could very well wear me. I can’t help nor stop the scoff mixed with a confused laugh that comes out harshly from my throat, right in his stone-like impression. My features slowly slip, looking up at his more serious expression, his eyes persistent in their viewing of my soul. His arm comes to outstretch and place firmly on the wall, his thumb grazing my shoulder, and despite being clothed, I shiver. I should be so bold as to push him away, yell and scream at the top of my lungs, run right into Chuuya’s arms for that all comforting safety. Alas, I am congealed in this position, the spell this mysterious stranger had been casting since the moment he coerced me with little resistance to the dance floor has begun to settle. His bewitching ambrosia eyes have me cornered, and I can only wonder if he is wishing to drown in the pools of my own gaze.
“Your grace, don’t play me for a fool,” he whispers, his frame overpowering mine merely by leaning but a little closer. “Your eyes give way your true passions. You demand my absence yet have not forced your own hand, to which I sense you’re capable of caring for yourself.” I swallow, making a pitiful attempt at raising my head to meet his unforeseeable predatory gaze, a shift in his behaviors happening rapidly. “So, I ask again, who must be slain as they are preventing me from knowing what Heaven shall taste like?” My eyebrows raise expeditiously, my mouth falling open in both awe and disgust at his brazen question.
“Certainly you jest!” I force out a laugh, and his brow lifts as the rest of his face remains still. “You think beyond highly of yourself to the ridiculous notion that I would ever let your lips near me more than they are now? Hah! I cannot play you for a fool when you are already a bigger jester than the one hired by His Highness.” The corners of his mouth gradually turn upward at my ranting, the gesture further infuriating me. “Even if I were to reveal who my fiancé is, you would have to go through an entire army before ever reaching him for this so-called duel you are demanding.
“How very dare that you think just because you saw me from across the room that I am a prize to be won!” I muster all of the courage and strength I have, my palms pressing firmly on his chest, and finally push him away. It is only enough to gain a bit more space, and catching him off of his wits to blink at me in surprise. “If I weren’t already arranged but cursed to be a spinster for the rest of my days, I wouldn’t choose you to save my destituting reputation, no matter you were the last man standing!” I exclaim after, hurriedly gathering my skirt in my still shaking hands, ready to tear myself free in search of my betrothed, to warn him of this intruder, but I am stopped in place once more with the same strong but delicate hold on my arm, unyielding from my aggressive jerking to free myself. “Unhand me! You are an insolent stranger!”
“Your heavenly grace,” his voice falls into one of inadvertent gentleness, the momentary arrogance vanishes, and his touch burns through the sheer fabric of my sleeve. “What must I do to earn your affections? If an army awaits before allowance toward your betrothed, then so be it. I will fight every last one of them with fervor, the motivation of your heart awaiting on the other side enough to drive me forward to impale his.” The blacks of his eyes begin to grow as he speaks, a dangerous fascination befalling my rampant mind as he speaks with dazzling determination. “None of my words spoken were a jest; I speak with seriousness, and clearly with a boldness that does not impress you.
“My angel, you are correct, you are not a prize to be won,” I watch as this man, whose name I have yet to learn, falls to his knees as his bare hands cradle mine, his finger and thumb purposefully holding my left ring finger between them. I stare, aghast, my lips parted while my heart threatens to emerge from its confines. “You have shattered my very existence with one glance, one smile, one dance. You have me begging on my knees for you when I am not a man that would ever dare.
“You are not a prize, you are the muse that inspired poetry that lasts a millennia. You are the inspiration for the music notes strumming through these halls from the ballroom we met. You are the mythical being that Greeks captured in their marble sculptures,” he lightly shakes his head, an unsteady breath escaping from his parted lips, eyes shining under the illumination casting down on him like a spotlight as he looks helpless. A man hopeless. “You are why they bother fighting wars, why they care to persist. Why I will do whatever necessary to make you my bride. Leave him, whoever he may be, he cannot give you the love and devotion you so clearly deserve!” My fingers twitch in his grasp, my other hand resting over my relentless organ. Leave him? He has gone mad.
“And you have sunk into the deep delusion that you are the one who can?” I make no efforts to move, my voice softer than I intended, internally scolding myself for the progressive enrapturement overcoming me at his words. At his perfect performance.
“Point me in the direction of the man who claims he already is so I can prove to you that he is a liar,” his lips connect to my knuckles once more, feverish kisses coating my skin as his other hand drifts up along my sleeve, his fingers slipping underneath as he moves methodically, but his affections have no rhyme or reason, flames blazing after each one, and I think I have finally grown weak. “Grant me one chance. Have mercy, your grace, on my ailing heart. It does not know how to act in these situations, for it has never known reverence until tonight.” He pants between his tenacious kisses, before tearing his head away to look at me once more. “Tell me, I am at your disposal. Make use of me how you see fit, and I will follow you without question. What does it take to have you agree to run away with me?” Run away? I thought him to be a viscount or more. Is he lower? A poor man?
“My good sir, you make all these declarations and yet I have no clue who you are,” I can pull my hand away from his possessive grasp, but I don’t wish to. Have I gone mad? “While status and wealth do not mean anything to me, they do to my family. And ‘tis terrible to admit, but I would be missed if I disappeared, your head the bounty for my return if I took your invitation now and fled.
“What exactly would you be able to offer, other than this suffocating obsession?” His fingers caress and glide along my arm, undoubtedly able to feel the bumps that have risen as he does so, and he gazes up at me with cheeks stained like spilled blood on fresh snow.
“You’ve no idea who I am?” He murmurs, a smile forming as if he is in a daze, remaining on his knees before me while he places another fervent kiss on my fingers. “Your grace, I have all the money and power your family could ever desire to keep them happy and at bay if all that matters to you is this unnatural love I am willing to bestow unto you.” He climbs back to his feet then, his arm moving as if it has its own consciousness to wrap around my waist, pulling my body close to his as if we are about to waltz again. “I have better standing than this faux royal mutt could even fathom to offer. I could make you my queen in mere days while he has no other choice but to make you wait.” I stare at him, bewildered but beguiled, slowly shaking my head at his words.
“You stand here and say I am the one playing you for a fool, yet you have been the one forcing me into a one-sided chess match with you,” I breathe out a small laugh, puzzled now, a hesitant hand resting itself on his chest. I take a solitary moment to review his attire again, noting that it is not much out of the ordinary. Not fit for a supposed prince, hardly befitting a viscount, not even a baron. He looks so bland compared to the mockery us other guests have made of ourselves in shining, glimmering, and lavish threads, an abundance of bright and flashing colors swirling into one another as we dance and pretend to be enjoying ourselves. His suit, though the softest to the touch, is plain. It is black. He is formal yet it does not scream power or wealth he is claiming to have. Not a single sparkling gem to be had. “My good sir, who are you?” I drag my line of sight back to those knee-shaking brown eyes, a knowing spark flashing through them, his previous daze diminishing in front of me, and his pink lips collapsing into a slight scowl. His brows come together momentarily, and his hold on me has only gotten tighter. As if terrified I will run the moment he grants me release.
“I am Osamu Dazai, prince and next in line for the throne of my kingdom,” his voice is low, no longer an echo in these sudden hallowed halls, and my body stiffens in his large, destructive hands. My features fall alongside his, and the grip he has on my wrist doesn’t let up. “You think less of me now that you know my name? Rumors and gossip are defaming, I only hope an angel such as yourself would be willing to grant me clemency on this judgement day.” My mouth has run dry, unable to speak the words that are sitting trapped in my throat, closing in on itself. He speaks truth: his reputation precedes him, anyone who is anyone has heard near and far of the great Osamu Dazai, excellent war strategist that garnered the power and wealth his family obtained and known menace to feminine society. He is grandiosely boasted amongst fawning women for his charm and wit, captivating you with silver-tongued turn of phrases to lead right into his trap shaped like the average bed, capturing you for an evening that many claim they surely will never forget. A common jest tossed around amongst the whispers is that no one can determine which body count is higher: the ones left on the field of battle, or the ones left on the field of his bed chambers.
He did not simply play me for a fool or coerce me again into a lighthearted chess match that I knew I wouldn’t win, no matter how hard I tried. He sold me a con that I was gullible enough to purchase due to his ability to spew empty words in a way that I would have no choice but to fill in the gaps alone.
“You think me an angel only because you are a demon,” I accidentally let out, shaking my head again, internally battling myself with immense confliction to push him away or get impossibly closer. “You’re revered as a war hero in your kingdom, but to the rest of us… Your strategical mind is once in a lifetime, practically a prodigy that could have been used for far greater purposes, and they had steered you into battle instead.” I can’t bring myself to look at him any longer. “The devastation you brought has cost more lives than anyone could keep count, and you are begging on your knees for my hand in marriage to stand at your side as your queen?”
“My mother is already dead, and my father lies in wait for his grave as we speak,” his words ring heavily in the air while his voice goes back to the gentleness I fear he is not used to. “I do not wish to rise to take over his throne, I do not want the responsibility. I barely tolerate being in charge of our soldiers. If it is something I have to do, then sit next to me to make it all the more bearable. All the more worth it. Your family will be taken care of for all their days, and I could finally know what true happiness is.” His speech is becoming rushed, the sign of desperation from a man that only speaks truth. However, I have planted a seed of bitterness in my heart with learning who he is, and how hard I fell for silly words and actions when I am arranged to be married to someone else. This con man who sold me a “get love quick” scheme holds me in his arms as if he were to drop me I’d shatter at his feet. This con man known for never wanting to settle down with anyone unshakably proposing to me after I had told him I already have another. He is insistent, speaks his mind freely, and knows how to speak with eloquence.
He presents himself as perfection and it is too overwhelming.
“I want to believe your words are true,” I carefully push his body from mine, creating a gap at arm’s length while still clutching his jacket. His hands cannot seem to go without touching me as one rests its palm on the back of mine, and the other slips under my sleeve again to lightly graze my forearm. “Please, I hope you are not, but if you are a liar, continue with your stories and false promises of offering me this meaningless devotion you supposedly have.”
“You push me away but keep me here within your reach,” he steps forward again, fingers defying societal norms to place under my chin, gently lifting my head to meet his gaze once more. They shine behind his evident distress. “Surely you believe yourself that I have been speaking the truth this entire time.”
“How am I to know that? How am I to believe anything you say?” I tear my chin away from his hold, pushing him again so I can turn to get away. The fast pace of my heels clicking along the polished stone flooring bounce around us, giving enough additional light as it reflects off its mirror-like surface. “I am simply another conquest for you. A notch in your bedpost that is already overflowing!” He appears almost out of thin air in front of me then, blocking my path and making me jump back at the surprise. His steps were so quiet, or I was so heated I blocked it out completely.
“And what if I have a brand new bed made that has not been touched by myself nor anyone else, a new place to lay covered in the softest threads, the finest duvets, the fluffiest of pillows I can have my people scour the ends of this Earth in search for, and there would be no notches? I wouldn’t even look in its direction until you have come home with me and grant me the privilege of studying every last inch of your being,” his hand has found mine once again, his other arm trapped behind his back in an effort to uphold his princely manner. He had already fallen to his knees, what more dignity is there to salvage?
“Your Highness–”
“Please, speak to me as you were,” he closes the gap between us, our foreheads almost touching. “It is one of the many reasons so far as to why I am so drawn to you. I thought you bold and brazen, but now with the knowledge that you had none of who I was, I love it all the more. This is your true self, and it is intriguing. Endearing.” His overactive, petal-soft lips smile before showering my fingers and knuckles with more of his affectionate kisses, my heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird before sinking down into my stomach.
“I cannot continue to sit here and listen to such poetic nothingness,” I let out a breath as my heart palpitates, somehow constricted by my lungs' lack of functionality. “His Highness, my betrothed, is probably losing his head in search of me now while I fall under the spell of your wicked words and silver-tongued divinity.” I shake my head, his lips now moving up my arm as he locks eyes with mine. Those eyes. “Sir Dazai–”
“Abandon formality, my queen,” he whispers, extending my arm so that he can continue peppering his alluring adoration up to my shoulder, coming too close toward my bare neck. “Your grace, you are positively flushed.” He taunts with a somehow pleasant smirk dancing along his features.
“Dear Osamu, please remove your head once again from the clouds and hear me when I say that I cannot be your queen. You are too many years too late,” a soft, low hum reverberates from his throat, his lids hooded as he stares at me with a darkness that causes me to tremble once again.
“I beg again my name fall from those angelic lips,” he murmurs, a thumb suddenly appearing as it delicately pulls at my bottom lip, the flesh bouncing back into place. His face is so close now as he guides my arm to loop around his neck, his other hand firmly holding my hip as if it belongs there.
“N-No, no, we shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be touching like this,” I clear my throat, but I can’t break away from his gaze. “You are too comfortable with touching things that do not belong to you, and you are too comfortable with touching a lady in general. I would never believe you to have a bed created that you would not lay in, especially if it is untouched. Not with the way they speak of you.”
“I will abstain,” his breath fans over my lips from our proximity, and the back of his fingers are grazing along my burning cheek. “I won’t touch you unless you extend your delicate hand out to me first. I will be the perfect gentleman, withholding your honor until you come to me, my name crying from your perfect mouth ‘please, Osamu, I need you’.” His mouth has trailed to my ear then, his words tickling it as he speaks, his voice just barely a whisper, and I am left with no choice but to cling to him so I don’t swoon. I close my eyes and inhale, counting in my head to keep myself planted firmly to the ground that could crumble in on me at any moment. I never thought I’d be so weak to fall for such stupid words. “My queen, come home.” He begs in his same tone, his fingers having made way for my spine as they lightly follow along it.
“Y-You say you will abstain, but that is only from me,” I try at staying strong with my withering willpower. I chastise myself continuously, how I am bending entirely to his will in the closed-off hallways of Chuuya’s palace. I feel dirty, but somehow I don’t seem to mind. “You wouldn’t be faithful. You’d get your fix elsewhere.”
“You wound me,” his nose nudges under my ear, voice now hoarse while he audibly tries to keep his tone down. “Why would I go in search of an oasis when Heaven would be awaiting me with open arms? It’d be the only time I’d be let in.” His lips curl up against the shell of my ear, and I notice then we have begun to sway to no music.
“I don’t have any trust in you that you would behave,” I mumble, giving in enough to sway with him, holding onto his shoulder. He keeps his head tucked away, so I am the only one to hear what he has to say.
“I will earn it, whatever it is I need to do, I will,” a feather-like kiss is pressed under my lobe, and my eyes snap open, biting my tongue. “And if you still do not believe and trust in me, then I will accept whatever punishment you deem suitable for my betrayal. If you think my gaze has wandered away from you, please gauge my eyes out, so long as you promise to guide me along with you anywhere we go. If you think I have dared to touch another, please cut off my hands, so long as you promise to hold my wrist instead. If you think I have laid with a woman that wasn’t you, please send me to the guillotine, so long as you promise to place my preserved heart in the finest jewelry box to admire for the rest of your days.” I blink, slowly, at his morose yet utterly romantic declaration. My features soften, hiding my face away from bashfulness in the other direction, subconsciously closing the gap completely between us as he continues to lead in this light dance he entrapped me in again.
“I-I don’t…” I begin, his silence an indicator that he is listening intently. “I don’t know if I can get out of an engagement like this. His Highness is just as powerful as you, and we have known each other for so long. We are good friends, and I care so deeply for him. You and I have met today, and yet you have said so much more about your apparent love than he has our entire lives.” As I finish speaking, his desperate words sing through my head: “Point me in the direction of the man who claims he already is so I can prove to you that he is a liar.” My dear sweet Chuuya would never lie about his feelings for me. What purpose would it serve him if we are already arranged to be married? What purpose would it serve this high prince, the Osamu Dazai, to prove he can gift me more love and devotion than him? Would this all be the grandest of schemes just to pin me underneath him for a single night? Certainly I’d never recover. They’d have to send me to the sanitarium.
“If I need to challenge him in a duel, as that would be the sole solution to get you out of this, then so be it. Our kingdoms have been feuding for ages, I never cared much for the quarrels and petty back and forths,” he seems to ramble to me, causing my resolve to waver at him reminding me they are enemies, not that it was made to be secret. “I never had a personal stake in the matter until I realized the ethereal goddess standing alone at her own celebration was that lousy prince’s betrothed.
“Your heavenly grace, I have sent men into battle for nothing more than wealth to satisfy my parents’ insatiable need for power, not finding it worth sacrificing my own life,” he carefully guides my face back to meet his, my eyes wide and wounded as I stare up at him. His fingers brush pieces of my hair that have fallen in my distress and attempts to leave him behind. “I will stand on the battlefield alone with my own sword against his hundreds, if not thousands, if you mean truth in wanting to be my queen.” A single man against the entirety of the Nakahara family army. As intriguing as that would be to see, I don’t believe my heart could handle it.
“We… We know nothing of each other. I aware of only the rumors and gossip others spit on your name,” I sigh. I concede against my internal struggles, allowing my hand to extend up and cup his cheek, thumb tracing circles into his skin that rushes into changing to a deep sanguine I didn’t think would be humanly possible. His face turns slightly to bury into my palm, petals gracing the heel with a flurry of kisses while his lashes flutter when his eyes close. My countenance and resolve is hanging by a thread, and I think this is the moment I am realizing I am a terrible person. “Dear Osamu, my name holds no weight, you wouldn’t recognize it if I told you. There are no baseless whispers amongst the common folk and high society to grant you an inkling of an idea.” His eyes flit in my direction, raising his head and holding my chin between his fingers. He sighs then, his features twisting as if he were ailed with pain. My fingers come up to rest on his wrist.
“And my heart calls to you as if I have known you my whole life,” my mouth falls open, rendered speechless and immobile under his fire-lit amber irises that I will never be able to escape. They will haunt my dreams and grace my nightmares, burn into my memory for all eternity, leaving me broken hearted in their wake. “I reviled the very idea of love at first sight, the concept lost on me, because how could that ever be possible? A hoax spread by con men that had freedom to marry who they pleased; it is not meant for people like you and I where we are thrown into arranged marriages, to learn to love or pretend to for the sake of our people. Our kingdoms.
“Then I came here tonight when I shouldn’t have, and if I were given the chance to do it over, I would if it meant laying eyes on you once again. If it meant my dying heart has brought itself back to life once more with a beat that almost called me to my own grave such as the first time,” his tone, while soft, has grown serious to resemble his impression. “I have you in my arms now; I will stop at nothing to keep it that way. So long as I live and breathe, your grace, you will never be cursed to a lifetime of being a spinster.” Our faces are so close, somehow have inching toward one another during his speech that finally did me in, our noses brushing and breaths mixing. Anxieties fill my stomach, and mallets are banging on my heart when his fingertips skim the sensitive skin of my bare neck, and I have to close my eyes to prevent myself from putting a stop to this.
“Jyn?” I jump and push Dazai’s hands away from my body, turning to see Chuuya some ways down the hall, puzzlement and all-knowing mixing across his features. His eyes flicker from my guilt-ridden face to the prince behind me. “This wing is closed off for a reason, you are aware of this.” His steps are slow, wary, as he walks closer to fill the giant gap between us. He compels himself enough to chuckle, though it’s breathy and uneasy, his brows giving away how he is truly feeling. His hand is held out to me in offering. “I’ve been searching high and low for you. I was about to send a search and rescue, my sweet damsel.” I falter, my hand on instinct laying in his gloved palm – no fires ignited, no flames ablaze.
“Your Highness,” I coerce my most regal of smiles as I courtesy, bowing my head in greeting as I have always been taught. Muscle memory, though Chuuya never cares for it. “I was just speaking with His Highness, Prince Dazai.” I gesture toward the brunette whose entire visage changed, a chilling glare aimed toward my betrothed, and I see then why grown men cower in his presence. His features, once soft and gentle while he coaxed me under his spell, now sharp and shadowed. Those enchanting eyes have turned cold, the light vanishing, and his jaw is tense. I force another smile as I turn back to Chuuya, but it drops instantly when I see my sweet prince wearing a similar impression – his usually kind eyes hold cruel intentions.
“Your Highness," Chuuya grits, laced with insult, his hand nearly crushing my fingers.
“Royal mutt,” Dazai practically sneers.
“What exactly are you doing here? Who allowed you entry to begin with?” Chuuya’s voice raises, carrying down both ends of the empty hall. “I should have your head for trespassing!”
“How vile,” Dazai dismisses him, his arms behind his back as he stands tall, statuesque. “To threaten violence in front of a lady, that is just like you.” He directs his attention toward me, and his eyes morph as he stares at me. It’s startingly, unsettling.
“Cast your wandering gaze elsewhere, demon,” I’m then brought into Chuuya’s side, his arm wrapped around my shoulders in protection. He normally refrained from excessively touching me as we grew older, to a point that I felt undesirable. Now a romantic rival is bringing out his innermost actions, but it seems to be too late. “She is my fiancé. She is not looking for a suitor, and I am not lashing out for you cornering her alone in my home because she is here. You think I have threatened violence before–” He cuts his own sentence off, shaking his head. “Your grace, let’s go. We have guests to tend to.”
“Your name is Jyn?” Dazai interrupts, his foot stepping out to come between us that makes Chuuya stop in our tracks. “You wouldn’t happen to be from the Shakespeare family, would you? Appointed Dutchess from pity?” My brows furrow, eyeing him from his head to his shoes, something still not quite right with him.
“Not necessarily pity, but due to my adoptive mother’s passing,” I murmur. “You… know of me?” A smile grows on his face, but I’d hardly call it friendly, his teeth showing and the longer I stare, the more they resemble fangs. Chuuya’s embrace tightens as I’m pressed to his chest, but I cannot look away. A demon in the finest suit imaginable, spitting out words as he pretends to be a lovesick fool.
“Jyn, we are going, do not entertain his conversations any longer,” he instructs in a commanding tone, turning me away, but I continue to peek over my shoulder at Dazai.
“Nakahara!” He calls out with a strong voice, and I hear the other sigh through his nose beside me when his steps come to a halt. He peers over his shoulder at his enemy, disinterest prominent. “Best that you call off your ceremony. It will prove difficult to arrive when you’re dead.” His head is held high, his piercing eyes glowering down on him, his mouth in a thin line. I tear away to look at the side of the red head’s face, seeing his eyes grow in bewilderment before shifting to anger and wild barbarism.
“What the hell did you just say to me?!” He releases his grasp on me, his body fully facing his opponent. “You dare threaten to take my life within my own walls, in my territory? You have finally gone mad!”
“I have,” Dazai is smug now in his response, daring to dart his gaze toward me again. “I have been driven to insanity, and the only cure will be to have her grace at my side.” The hopelessness befalls his expression, irises swirling back to their gentleness, and his head lightly shakes. A resounding heartbeat shakes my very core, and I feel as though I have finally lost my ability to breathe. “Fair Jyn–”
“Do not address her as if you know her!” Chuuya is screaming now, storming along the length of the hall. “If this a jest, it is your worst one yet!” His hand disappears from my view before reappearing with the hilt of his sword that I had forgotten he kept on his person at all times. My eyes widen, hastily scanning Dazai, to not see any weaponry visible at his side, standing his ground with an unwavering resolve. He doesn’t bother to pay the fiery ginger any mind as we hold eye contact.
“Chuuya, don’t!” I race after him, nearly tripping on my overflowing skirt, his head whipping to give me an incredulous look, questioning my sheer audacity to stop him. Just as I reach his side, a quiet plat hits the floor between the three of us, my gaze gradually dropping to see a glove at Chuuya’s feet. The silence that follows is filled with lightning, the residual static causing the hairs on my arms to stand straight up. The prince beside me slowly lifts his head to stare at the other, his jaw visibly clenched tightly shut.
“I challenge you to a duel,” Dazai states in a low voice. “To the death. Last one breathing takes her heavenly grace’s hand for eternity.” He was serious. I blink, my lips parted, wanting to say something – anything. To protest, to put a stop to this, but nothing can come forth.
“How dare you,” Chuuya begins in a shaking, vicious whisper. “She is already arranged to be my wife for the rest of my days. I have waited for this moment for a lifetime, and you desire to take that away from me?” Dazai doesn’t respond, the unnerving darkness returning as he stares me down, obvious this cruelty not meant for me, but his eyes have never wandered. “You disgust me. How dare you make me fight for something that is already mine.”
“You speak as if she is a trophy,” Dazai spits. “Not as the woman you pretend to love.” I am taken aback at his provocations, clearly just a way to rile up Chuuya, but they are attacking me as well.
“I should slay you where you stand!” The sword comes up, in position to strike. “You do not know anything that is between us, only having just met her tonight! Who do you think you are?!” His arm jerks, beginning to thrust forward, when I quickly grab at him to pull it back. His barbaric, two-toned eyes snap at me, his teeth bared from how hard he is biting down on them. “What do you think you are doing stopping me? Are you not hearing what he is saying?” I have been sent into another bout of speechlessness, unsure myself as to why I am stopping him. I heard every word but remember all the others he said before.
“Fair Jyn, please step to the side,” Dazai kindly instructs. “I simply don’t know what would become of me if this primal beast were to harm you, or worse.” Another round of silence befalls the hall, not even the sound of the once faint orchestra flowing in my ears. He has not once spared a glance in my betrothed’s direction, his arms remaining behind his back, and a stoic impression only made for a prince that must shield himself from the rest of us.
“Fine, I will entertain your ridiculous duel,” Chuuya raises his sword, stretching it out and the point barely touches Dazai’s chest. “Hopefully one of those whores you spend so much time with is bearing your bastard child to take your place when you leave this plane. I do not intend to die on the field over something so juvenile.” He turns on his heel then, sheathing his weapon, not bothering to beckon me to follow. I stand there, watching after him, the floor that I thought to fall beneath me at any moment choosing now to diminish.
“He doesn’t truly believe fighting in my name is juvenile, right?” I mutter under my breath, consoling myself, tricking myself into thinking it is because Dazai tested his patience. Broke his wits.
“Your grace,” Dazai whispers, making me jump at the remembrance of his presence. I blink rapidly, tears beginning to cloud my vision that I want to disappear. I glance in his direction, the edge faded, and I feel trapped in a whirlwind of different emotions. His eyes soften as his hand comes down to gingerly take my fingers, and I notice it is shaking ever so slightly. “Are you alright? I wish you had not needed to witness that display. I was… I was not proper.”
“I wish to return home,” I mumble, childishly wiping under my eye, gripping his hand without thinking.
“Allow me to take you home, my queen,” he repeats, another lingering kiss gracing my knuckles. I sigh heavily, my body relaxing, my shoulders slumping.
“Dear Osamu,” I exasperate. “For heaven’s sake, bring that head down from the clouds this instant.” He stares for a long moment then smiles, a small laugh hitting my skin as he hides his glee behind my hand.
“As you wish, my queen.”
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“If you saw my tears, would you touch me? Kiss me on my mouth, say you love me?”
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