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deunmiu-dessie · 3 days

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ⅹ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃 ⁾ ¹

part two

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₁₀˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : slightly edited, talk of death, suicidal thoughts (??) ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : i had to split this into two parts since the entire one-shot might be at least 20k words long. there is no smut in this but in order to understand the second part i'll be writing, you'll need to read this! also, if you've read my demon one-shot, there's a little hint at these worlds colliding, let me know if you find where that is 😌

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : you, the princess of the jade empire, are on the run from your tyrannical uncle who is hell-bent on taking the throne for himself. following the death of your family members, you stand as the sole surviving royal descendant. as the unforgiving winter of the north looms closer and you find yourself without shelter, your desire for vengeance is set aside. stranded in a dark cavern, you struggle to stay alive and search for sustenance. but as you delve deeper into the cave, you unknowingly awaken a sinister creature lurking in the shadows, waiting to consume you whole.

꒰m!dragon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“ℳ y lady, you must go now!”

What had your world come to? And why now?

You stand there, overwhelmed and devastated as Eunice, your personal maid, thrusts a satchel into your quivering, awaiting hands, her eyes of umber brown are widened and her lips quiver with dread— she was terrified, and rightfully so. She was soon to meet her end, and yet she was accepting it with ease, so much so that it made your heart thump painfully within your ribcage.

Eunice was an older woman with greying, thick brown hair that usually framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, but it was now strewn about aimlessly at the top of her head in the midst of utter chaos. Her eyes were the faultless color of brown which held just the tiniest specks of hazel. Within the depths of those chocolate pools, a previously unseen emotion emerges, leaving your hands sweaty and your face pale.

You shake your head softly at her command, clutching her wrist within your clammy hands, pulling her along with you. "Come, come with me, Eunice, let us flee together!" you beg frantically, tears streaming down your face in heavy rivulets, your mind throbbing with an impending migraine. Your watery, scared eyes make Eunice’s stomach twist torturously— she who had taken care of you since you were a child, could only force a wobbly smile.

Eunice's heart trembles with fear at the thought of her death. The mere concept of dying was a chilling specter that haunted her every waking moment. No one willingly wished to die. However, when it came to you, the child she had considered her own? Eunice would willingly embrace death a thousand times over if she had to.

She couldn't bear to watch you die, not like this, especially when there was still a chance for you to live, to experience the pleasures of life, and perhaps even create a family of your own one day.

With her resolve solidified, the woman firmly withdraws her arm from your grasp and gently pushes against your shoulders. “I cannot. I will stay, buy you time,” she whispers. The distant echoes of battle cries resonate in the distance, and Eunice swiftly guides you toward the concealed passage nestled within your chamber.

"This path shall guide you to Thaos Village within three sunsets. It is my hometown, seek out Geoffrey Jill. Remember My Lady, be smart, be alert. Do not trust anyone, the Kingdom is your enemy.” Her voice trembles, yet even amidst this harrowing ordeal, she maintains her composure, selflessly offering herself as a sacrifice.

You’d always been a stubborn child, Eunice used to playfully say that you got it from your Father. He was a formidable figure, unwavering in his decisions, and she saw that same strength in you as a child.

With glazed eyes, you looked on to Eunice with persistence. Your hands twitching at your sides to grasp at her frayed garments, wanting to tug on them with earnestness, a commemoration to the youth you once were.

However, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been too sharp with you during your moments of defiance. Perhaps if she had indulged your rebellious spirit, you would've dragged her along to escape rather than sit arguing with her about it. This notion evoked a sense of self-centeredness within Eunice, as she contemplated her yearning for survival. The longing for life above all else was an inherent trait in human beings after all.

Her throat constricts as you swallow thickly, your head nodding with a heavy reluctance. Drawing Eunice closer, you envelop her in your arms, feeling the weight of her absence already settling in your chest. “I will miss you dearly,” you whisper, your heart skipping a beat before throbbing painfully against your breast. Her delicate arms wrap around your waist, her tear-stained face seeking solace in the curve of your neck; and her tears searing into your flesh, eternally marking you. "And I, my lady, shall forever carry your memory."

With a heavy heart, she lets out a hiccuping sob, it’s heavy and distraught– painful. Before abruptly pushing you into the dark passage. With a haunting intensity, she leans against the door, sealing you in. "Now go, My Lady. We shall meet again." Eunice grins, it's etched with weathered smile lines and a small dimple that imprints on the bottom left corner of her mouth, and it's gut-wrenching to see it as her final farewell to you.

The weighty door crashes closed, its resounding echo reverberating through the air causing you to crumple onto the stony floor, tears muddying your sight and sobs wracking your body. The satchel she has given you feels leaden in your grip, its contents unknown but undoubtedly important for your survival outside the unfamiliar palace wall.

Before you can gather yourself from your hunched position, you startle at a dull sound of noise beyond the thick passage wall. While your lips tremble with trepidation, you gently lean your ear against the door, desperately yearning to catch even the faintest whisper. And there it is, piercing through the thick barrier of the passage door - the deep resonance of your Uncle's voice, reverberating in your mind like a haunting wail.

The tempest raging inside you teeters on the edge of an eruption, stoked by the ghostly memories of a man who once held a special place in your heart, a man you revered and faithfully trailed. But now, he’s the man who mercilessly slaughtered your entire family, driven by his insatiable thirst for power and a birthright that rightfully belonged to another.

However, his unappeasable greed eventually caused him to become careless, and amidst the bloodbath of your twentieth name-day, Eunice found an opportunity to aid in your escape. Yet, in just a few hours, your Uncle and his soldiers managed to infiltrate your section of the palace. Eunice, informed by the guards posted near your quarters, unveiled a hidden passage to you in a last-ditch effort. Your world had crumbled in a matter of moments.

“Do not feign ignorance in my presence, woman. My niece, where has she gone?”

You find yourself drawn back into the moment, where Eunice's unwavering silence lingers in the air. A sense of unease mixed with anticipation twists in your stomach. In an instant, a sharp sound echoes through the room, accompanied by Eunice's anguished wail. Overwhelmed, you reflexively muffle your gasp with a quivering hand, hot tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“I will ask you once more–” His words are abruptly halted and a hush descends upon the room as if time itself has frozen. In the stillness, the piercing sound of a blade being unsheathed pierces the air, followed by the steady voice of Eunice, filled with unwavering resolve. “Go to hell.” These are the last words that reach your ears before a sickening thud echoes— signifying her gruesome decapitation.

The acrid bitterness of bile scorches your throat, causing your eyebrows to furrow as you suppress the urge to retch. Tears well up in your eyes, stinging like venomous drops. With a burdened soul, you inhale shallow breaths, feeling your heart pound relentlessly within your chest. Rising unsteadily, you clutch the satchel tightly to your breast, all while his voice booms out furiously, demanding, "Find her! Now!"

Hobbling along the path, you descend into the darkness of the passage, your thoughts consumed by Eunice and the peril that awaited you beyond the safety of the palace walls. Outside the Palace, the Kingdom was a relatively foreign land to you; your parents had taken great pains to shelter you and your siblings from the outside world.

As the eldest child, you had always harbored suspicions, for as the future ruler, it was your duty to be well-versed in the inner workings of the Jade Kingdom. But you dared not challenge their authority; after all, they were your parents. All they wanted to do was protect you. Right?

But now, as you make your way through the dark and winding passage, you can't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Eunice's cryptic message left you with more questions than answers, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was at play in the Kingdom. Your parent's secrets could now cost you your life, all because you didn't know what to expect from journeying outside.

Shaking your head, you realize it was not the time to cast blame upon the dead; you needed to clear your mind and concentrate.

The hidden passage leads you through a labyrinth of tunnels, its walls damp and cold. The atmosphere hung heavy with the pungent aroma of soil and mildew, suffocating your every breath. But you press on, driven by the urgency of the situation and the haunting image of Eunice's selfless act.

As you meander through the never-ending hallway, time dissolves into obscurity, lost in the depths of darkness. But then, a delicate fragrance of flowers wafts through the air, piercing the stagnant atmosphere. The scent dances around you, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the chaos.

In this desolate and forsaken corridor, it becomes your lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the face of despair. It whispers sweet promises of safety and freedom, offering a respite from the relentless onslaught of confusion and fear. With each breath, the aroma seeps into your very being, until finally, you stumble upon a door.

Emerging from the underground maze, you find yourself in a desolate courtyard garden, surrounded by towering walls that seem to close in on you. The sounds of battle echo through the air, growing louder and more menacing with each passing moment.

The relentless ticking of time pushes you to move quickly, and with a sense of dread, you scuttle towards a weathered wooden door seamlessly melded into the formidable barrier, shrouding yourself beneath the protective embrace of your hood.

You steal a final look at your home, a shiver running down your spine as it’s consumed by flames. The echoes of joy and warmth that once filled the walls now fade into the crackling of fire and the scent of smoke. The devastation grips your heart, the realization sinking in that the haven you cherished is now a haunting relic of the past. The charred remains stand as a grim reminder of what once was, a place now lost to the merciless fire. A place that was no longer.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like sand as you wander along the road. Your footsteps have carried you through its endless expanse, and though it seems like an eternity since you’ve started, it might have merely been a few fleeting hours. You can still see the billowing smoke of your home lingering on the horizon, the ghostly remnants of your past life looming behind you, a chilling reminder of what once was and can never be again.

The cold breeze nips at your fingertips and cheeks, attempting to penetrate the layers of your clothing and suffocate you in its icy embrace. With rapid, heated breaths, you valiantly defy its persistent advances, feeling your bones shiver beneath your flesh as you fight to retain warmth.

As the sun starts its slow descent, your nerves start to unravel, the fleeting warmth it provides fading away within the hour. The thought of navigating these paths in the dark filled you with unease, unsure of what creatures may be hiding in the shadows of the woods.

The sun's radiant beams gradually retreat, stretching out elongated shadows over the terrain, and a feeling of unease starts to crawl up your spine. The once comforting warmth that the sun had bestowed upon you throughout the day now dissipates, leaving behind a chilling gust of northern winds.

As the sky transforms into a canvas of dusky hues, the once vibrant landscape takes on an eerie stillness. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves are replaced by an unsettling silence, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl or the haunting howl of a lone wolf. The encroaching darkness seems to awaken fears that lay dormant within the depths of your mind.

The road ahead appeared to stretch endlessly, its twists and turns becoming more disorienting with each passing moment. The gnarled branches of the trees reached out like skeletal fingers, casting eerie silhouettes against the sky. The once ‘familiar’ surroundings now come off as distorted and unfamiliar, as if the very essence of the oncoming night had transformed them into something otherworldly.

And though part of you wanted to keep moving, to get as far away as you could, this was not the time to be negligent and risk losing your way or, even worse, losing your life. Not when the fate of the Kingdom rested on your shoulders. Sighing shakily, you deviate off the trail and make your way into the woods, seeking refuge amidst a gathering of trees and vegetation.

The frigid ground greets you with a harsh embrace as you sit down, the cold seeping through your clothes and freezing your body further. Sorting through the hefty satchel, a rush of emotions overwhelms you when you uncover a soft wool covering, a beloved reminder of days when you were younger. As you unfurl the blanket, you lay down, finding yourself nestled on the forest ground, tucking the satchel beneath your head for a bit of comfort, and wrapping yourself up tightly to ward off the chill.

The hushed rustling of foliage and the indelible chirping of crickets lull you into a state of eerie wakefulness. The fast-fading light seeps through the dense leaves above, casting an unnerving ray over the forest. The fragrance of pine and soil permeates your nose, pacifying your thoughts if only for a moment.

However, the life of the woodland is shattered by the haunting echo of horses in the distance, the flora and fauna within the forest coming to a bone-chilling standstill. Every breath you take feels like a desperate struggle, as if the air itself is suffocating you. The trees seem to whisper warnings to each other, their leaves rustling in fear for you.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a primal instinct urging you to flee from whatever unseen danger lurks in the darkness, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move as the ghostly hooves draw nearer. With a sense of anticipation, you sink further into the smothering embrace of the thick foliage, clutching your quivering legs tightly to your shivering body.

“She couldn't have gotten far while on foot! Spread out and find her!”

Shivers skitter down your back, it was Dominic, your Uncle’s son. The echo of his once comforting voice sends tremors down your spine, a startling reminder of the past. Who could have imagined he would also be involved in the massacre of your family? The very cousin who playfully showed you how to handle a sword, how to scale trees, and capture frogs. The very cousin who had once held a special place in your heart, akin to that of a beloved brother.

You couldn't help but wonder what had led him and his father down this path of destruction. What demons had possessed them to betray their own family, to turn against those who had loved and cared for them? The questions swirled in your mind, but the answers remained elusive.

The thundering hooves fade into the night, causing you to release a trembling sigh, yet you freeze at the eerie sound of a horse's whinny. “I know you're there, cousin. Your tracks have betrayed you." You stay quiet, wondering if he is testing to see if you will flee, to confirm your presence. The echo of his words fills the night air with a chilling sense of pain, it's sorrowful, and desolate as he utters again.

“Make sure that your tracks are well-hidden and keep off the main roads. It would be wise to depart the Kingdom immediately, go as far as you must, until nay even whispers of the King's death are uttered. My father, he will never stop, he will hunt you down relentlessly, until he claims your head, cousin."

Tears well up in your eyes, causing a sharp sting as you blink them back, your stomach knotting with anxiety– perhaps he did know you were here. “Be smart, trust no one, for even the most innocent faces may hide ulterior motives. Stay one step ahead. You must survive if you want revenge for Unc— the King, Queen, and Royal Highnesses.”

He falls into a chilling silence, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you hear a faint sniffle. "I never wished for any of this, trust me," he whispers. And then he’s galloping away, further and further until you hear him no more. As his presence dissipates, you finally let yourself weep with sobs that darken your vision, and tears that turn frigid upon meeting your cheeks.

The weight of his words lingers in the air, haunting you as you lay alone in the darkness. The truth of his revelation slices through you, sharp as a blade, leaving you adrift and lost. You try to make sense of it all, but the pieces of the puzzle refuse to fit together.

You try to shake off the feeling of despair that threatens to consume you, but it clings to you like a shadow.

Reflecting on the events that led you to this wretched state, a myriad of questions plague your mind. How did the path you once tread, filled with hope and promise, veer so drastically off course? What unseen forces conspired to orchestrate this cruel twist of fate, leaving you stranded in a world of darkness and unfamiliarity? You wonder how such a sinister fate befell you. Your mind whirls in a frenzy, grappling with these haunting questions until exhaustion finally claims you, dragging you into a restless slumber tormented by blood-curdling visions.

As the night drags on, sleep remains elusive, antagonizing you with its restless grip. It's not until the first light of dawn filters through the twisted branches above that your mind finally succumbs to sleep, allowing you a fleeting moment of respite.

As you embrace the peaceful caress of sleep, a faint sense of consciousness lingers. The real world has its challenges and griefs, however, they seem almost insignificant when compared to the terrors that haunt your dreams.

If asked to choose between facing the bitterness of reality or the torment of your nightmares; you'd rather brave the acrimony of the real world over the haunting dreams of days long gone.

It’s when the sun reaches high in the sky that you rouse from your unfulfilling nap. But as you pry your eyes open, which are almost sealed by the bone-chilling cold of the North, you are welcomed not by the sight of frost-laden greenery or the towering yellow Cyprus tree that stood tall yesterday.

Instead, a face is peering down at you. A countenance that has only existed within the pages of books and tales of caution.

It’s a Romog, a magical beast similar to dogs yet towering in size like battle wolves. From what you've read, Romog's are renowned for their savagery, and their prowess in combat. Their hide and sinew possess an almost outlandish thickness and strength, rendering them almost impossible to kill. Even the most seasoned of knights have stumbled in their endeavors to hunt these formidable creatures.

And since Romog's are known for their exceptional tracking abilities, enforce wizards often form magical pacts with them to harness their talent. Their keen sense of smell and knack for locating elusive targets made them indispensable companions in the realm of magic. However, as it perched on your legs, its tongue lolling and panting deeply, you couldn't help but ponder why it had not yet chosen to devour you. ( You also guessed that your lack of chill throughout the early morning was thanks to the mutt. )

Why was it here?

Your breath hitches in your throat and you swallow thickly, a tremor dancing down your backbone. The Romog's cranium tilts to one side, its gaze overflowing with unsettling fascination before it inclines closer, its sleek tongue sinuously gliding forth to caress your cheek, the coarse texture catching at your skin.

“Ugh! Disgusting!”

You swiftly wipe away the wet warmth from your cheek, your upper lip curling with revulsion. The Romog, looking innocent, emits a low growl before clambering off of you, its tail wagging frantically. You observe its every movement cautiously, yet you find a morsel of comfort as it nudges you with its massive snout, darting away to perform a playful bow before dashing toward you for another gentle nudge.

Fear dissipates in an instant, causing you to release a soft chuckle. It's evident that this Romog hadn't yet reached adulthood. Rising to your feet, you retrieve your blanket, which now feels like a thick slab of ice, and proceed to fold it as neatly as possible before tucking it away in your satchel. Throughout this process, the Romog playfully nudges your back, emitting playful yips to further lighten the atmosphere.

Hefting the bag over your shoulder, your gaze falls to the Romog beside you. Its eyes are wide and almost pleading, and suddenly, a soft gurgle fills the air. It must be hungry – you couldn't remember if Eunice had packed you any food, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

Nonchalantly discarding the satchel, you allow it to descend with a weighty thump upon the earth. You gracefully lower yourself onto one knee, slowly loosening the drawstrings. The Romog creeps nearer, its snout descending to delve into the contents of your exposed bag. With lips slightly pursed, you delicately nudge it aside, engaging in a steadfast gaze with the creature. “You must wait, I'm trying to find you something.”

The creature emits a soft chuff. With an air of nonchalance, it raises a front leg and stretches its neck to noisily lick at its paw. You can't help but roll your eyes at the creature's audacious demeanor. Determined to find something worthwhile, you plunge your hand into the bag, rummaging aimlessly and extracting various objects, only to discard them back into the satchel as you realize their inedibility.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you find yourself in possession of a sizable portion of compacted ivory bread, its texture cold and unyielding, as if it had been shaped by the frigid gusts of the northern winds. The Romog stirs with interest at the scent of the doughy morsel, edging nearer until it is practically nestled in your lap. Its gaze meets yours, a silent exchange passing between you, without hesitation, you rend the loaf apart and fling it away into the forest.

The beast swiftly gives chase, its insatiable appetite driving it forward. Its viscous drool, warm and thick, tenderizes the bread, rendering it more palatable. With a gentle smile, you deftly rearrange the items within your bag, securing them in their rightful places before sealing it shut. Rising to your feet, you hoist the satchel onto your shoulder once again, ready to continue your journey.

The time of day still lingered in the early hours, urging you to press forward and cover as much ground as possible. If Eunice's information proved accurate, you would reach Thaos Village within at least three days' time. Thaos Village, as the tales tell, revered the water Goddess Euna, it was a relatively peaceful place where mages often resided before embarking on their journeys or seeking wisdom at the renowned arcane institution. It was also the birthplace of Eunice and the man you’d be meeting in only a short while.

As you gaze upon the Romog, its sharp teeth tearing into the meager offering of bread, a shiver runs down your spine, that could've been you under different circumstances. With a forced smile, you hasten your steps out of the eerie forest, eager to escape the looming darkness that surrounded you even in the morning light. Making your way back onto the trail to continue your journey to what you were hoping was safety.

The frigid morning breeze froze your face, your nostrils growing numb and your mouth parched from the icy assault. Merely moments into your stroll, your ears seemed on the verge of detachment. To safeguard the remnants of your inner heat, you raise your hood and plunge your hands into the recesses of your cloak, huddling your form in an attempt to repel the gusts of the wind. The fabric provided a small barrier against the frigid wind, but it was not enough to fully protect you.

The frosty air clung to your skin, leaving a tingling sensation that bordered on pain. Each breath you took felt like shards of ice piercing your lungs, causing you to exhale in short, shallow bursts. The trees stood tall and bare, their branches coated in a layer of frost that glistened in the weak morning light.

With each step, you could feel the chill seeping deeper into your bones. Your muscles tensed, your movements becoming slower and more deliberate. The cold seemed to sap your energy, leaving you feeling sluggish and drained.

The sun's feeble attempt to break through the thick layer of clouds was met with resistance, as if the heavens themselves were conspiring to keep the landscape below in a perpetual state of desolation. Its golden beams, though they managed to pierce through the gloom, seemed almost mocking in their presence. They danced upon the barren earth, casting long, eerie shadows that stretched across the desolate terrain, and illuminated the cracked and parched ground.

As if the sun's futile efforts were not enough, a biting wind swept through the air once more. It howled through the skeletal remains of trees, their branches stripped of leaves and their insides hollowed out.

‘snap’

Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you jump, swiftly turning to locate the source of the noise. It was only the Romog from earlier, its mouth still coated in breadcrumbs. You purse your lips, fully turning to confront it, cocking your hip to the side, and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I cannot give you anything more. I also need to eat, beast.”

At your acknowledgment, the creature hastens forth to halt before you, perhaps taking your response as a cue to accompany you. Its frigid, damp snout presses against your abdomen, urging you onward to proceed. You delicately push it aside, your hands now finding solace upon your hips. “You mustn't follow me. Now go, I can do nothing more for you.”

This time it hearkens, descending into a seated posture and whimpering, its grand cranium inclining to the side. You affirm, content with your actions. "Well done, farewell beast.”

Twisting on your heels, you press forward along the trail, tucking your hands into your pockets once again to restore warmth. As you journey for a few more moments, the Romog's heavy, wheezing breaths fade away, which are loud even amidst the piercing gusts of wind.

You were alone now, it was something you would have to get used to.

Moreover, if what you read was true, untamed Romog's were labeled as ‘kill on sight’ in numerous regions. The creature would draw too much attention to you, and you couldn't bear to see it die.

You've witnessed an excess of death in a brief span and the thought of being responsible for yet another one weighed heavily on your conscience. You knew that if you were to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world, you would need to adapt quickly and make tough decisions.

You would brave this journey on your own.

Or so you thought. The Romog continued to follow you.

Concealing itself amidst the foliage each time you glanced over your shoulder, its mighty tail protruding from a tree and rhythmically thudding, inadvertently revealing its presence. Hiding itself within shrubs, but its snout, long and thick, would stick out, giving it away. Vanishing into the encompassing woodland, yet its profound, labored breaths would once more, accidentally expose its existence.

What did it want?

Halting abruptly, you inhale deeply, the frigid air chilling your lungs as you pivot swiftly, the Romog attempting to scuttle into the forest to evade your scrutiny. "Come out!" A brief silence ensues, save for the monotonous symphony of howling winds and rustling foliage atop the towering trees. The Romog emerges from its hiding spot, albeit reluctantly. Its head hangs low, ears plastered against its skull, and tail firmly ensconced between its hind legs.

Its eyes, once filled with mischief and childish curiosity, now reflect an uncertainty. You take a press forward, your presence commanding and unwavering. The Romog takes a hesitant step back, its paws sinking into the soft forest floor.

"I will tell you once more. You mustn't follow me! ‘Tis dangerous, for me and for you. Do you understand?" For a moment, you forget that you're talking to a beast and not a human, it probably didn't understand a word that you were saying. This realization causes a frown to crease your lips, your eyebrows knitting together sharply.

As you once more assert your desire for the creature to leave, it cowers slightly, its large, sorrowful eyes gazing up at you with confusion and longing. Its body, covered in sleek, dark fur, bristles in response to your rejection. Yet, despite your firm words, it remains steadfast.

With a heavy sigh, you realize that the creature has attached itself to you for reasons beyond your comprehension. Its unwavering resolution tugs at your heartstrings, even as you try to distance yourself from it. Perhaps it senses something in you, a connection that you are yet to understand. Is what you try to convince yourself, to somehow make this situation feel right.

As you contemplate your next move, the creature finds time to sneak towards you, nudging your leg gently, its touch both cold and comforting. It emits a low, woeful sound as if pleading for you. And despite it, you find yourself softening, your resolve weakening as you look into its eyes, they're filled with such a deep despondency that it almost seems as if you were gazing into a mirror.

Relenting with a soft huff, you crouch down to meet the creature at eye level. Its snout, still damp and frigid, brushes against your cheek, leaving a trail of icy moisture. You feel a surge of empathy, a sudden realization that this creature searches for companionship and purpose, just as you do. ( though you deny it. )

"I cannot promise you anything," you whisper. Your voice, scratchy from the icy breath of the northern frost, resonates with a delicate blend of tenderness and hesitation, because within you lies the awareness that this was a foolish idea. "If you so choose to accompany me, know that the path ahead is treacherous and filled with uncertainty. I cannot guarantee your safety nor mine."

The creature's eyes glinted with a newfound emotion, as if understanding you and the risks involved with being your travel companion, but that was just wishful thinking on your end. It emits a soft, almost grateful sound at your words. With a gentle touch, you stroke its furry head, rising to your feet.

"Then, let's keep moving."

“Perhaps I should give you a name. It would be improper to refer to you as ‘beast’ the entire time.” you state, your teeth clashing together in a frenzy. The creature walks alongside you faithfully, its massive form exuding warmth like a furnace, impervious to the icy chill of the north, a fact that you couldn't help but envy, even if just a tad. Your cloak had been breached long ago by the freezing air, and it genuinely felt as though you were treading on pins and needles, your body wracking with tremors from the cold.

As the two of you trudge the frost-covered road, you rack your brain for a suitable name for the animal. Alas, you're not particularly skilled in this endeavor, and it appears that the beast is aware of this as well. "What of Charles?" You propose, the words slipping hesitantly from your lips. The being reacts unfavorably to the name, meeting your gaze and snorting in response.

Your mouth gapes and you narrow your eyes. "Very well, perhaps I shall persist in calling you a beast! Now's not the time to be picky." The creature lets out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing in what seems to be yielding delight. It seems to understand the concept of a name, but is not easily swayed by your meager attempts at bestowing one upon it. Especially that of Charles.

“Fine, I’ll think of a better one later,” Your gaze shifts towards the sun as it begins its gradual descent, the darkness of night beginning to envelop the sky in its velvety cloak. The frigid air, already piercing, seemed to intensify, as if embracing an even colder essence.

Despite this, the two of you had made remarkable progress throughout the day, and it instilled confidence in you that the village would be within reach before nightfall the next day. Although the tracks upon the nearly frozen ground had begun to fade, you had found them nonetheless, a mosaic of footprints and wagon imprints. A sign of life.

“Let us stop for today, we mustn’t be out on the road during nightfall.” The latter part of your statement is uttered softly, a reminder to yourself, and the creature joins you as you stealthily veer away from the path and venture into the encroaching shadows of the woods, its tail wagging in delight. You continue walking for a brief period until you once again find yourself amidst a gathering of trees and shrubs, placing your bag on the ground before settling down beside it. You feel almost numb, as though your body has been submerged in icy waters.

The creature settles down beside you, its warm body, thick with fur, brushing against your side, providing a sense of ease in the eerie stillness of the forest. The darkness seems to press in around you, the only sound being the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the chill that has settled in your bones, digging into your satchel to pull out your wool blanket.

You purse your lips and run your hand along its back, patting softly. “Lucky mutt.” With slow, creaky motions you envelop the blanket around your form and awkwardly collapse, distancing yourself from the creature, head landing harshly on your bag, yet you pay no mind, you were too cold to care.

The Romog stands abruptly and moves closer to follow down after you, massive frame wrapping around you. It smells of damp soil and dog and you scrunch your nose. “By the Gods, you need a bath.” you utter, burying your face within the comfort of your blanket to escape the scent.

The animal grunts, unamused at your insult, shifting away from you; and in an instant the cold envelops you, freezing the entirety of your body. Your teeth begin to chatter rhythmically, and you instinctively seek warmth by burrowing into the creature's body, no longer bothered by its scent. “P-perhaps just for tonight, yes?”

The beast snorts again and affectionately rests its large head on top of yours, tail curling around your body. You smile to yourself as the Romog nuzzles closer, its warm fur providing much-needed comfort in the chilly night. Despite the less-than-pleasant smell, you can't help but feel thankful to the creature for its unexpected aid.

“What about George?”

The gates of the Village loomed ahead, towering and sturdy, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree. Though guards stood watch at the entrance, it appeared they paid no heed to verifying identities or trade permits. In most bustling regions, such protocols were customary to gain access within their walls.

Considering your Uncle's relentless pursuit, one would expect wanted posters or even a bounty on your head. Yet, the lax security raised suspicions— could it be a ruse, an artifice to entice you into the open?

You duck behind the bushes once more and look toward your companion. “Alright, Aslan—,” the Romog grumbles at the name, and you sigh, rummaging through your bag to retrieve the final piece of bread. The name was still a matter of debate, as it seemed that no matter what name you chose, the Romog disapproved.

For now, it was best to refer to it as 'beast'. You take out the stale bread and struggle to tear it in half. Placing one portion at the creature's feet, you reluctantly return the other half to your bag. "Remain here, you cannot enter the village. I will come for you later tonight if everything goes according to plan."

The Romog sniffs at the bread before tentatively taking a bite, its sharp teeth tearing into the tough crust. You watch as it devours the meager meal, its eyes never leaving you. The two of you had made good timing today and thankfully made it to the village before nightfall.

The sun was drifting lower as the minutes passed but you weren't too worried about it, not when safety was within reach. Gone were the worries and anxieties that had plagued your mind just a few short days ago. The weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of security. Safety, once elusive and distant, now stood within reach, beckoning you to embrace its solace.

Although the Romog remained oblivious to the intricate nuances of the Lomaliue language, there were instances when an inexplicable connection seemed to materialize. It was as if the creature possessed an innate comprehension of your commands and the very essence of your words. It was almost comforting in a way, akin to engaging in a heartfelt conversation with a fellow human being, albeit one who chose not to respond.

“Alright?”

The Romog emitted another discontented growl, causing a faint smile to grace your lips. With gentle strokes, you caressed its velvety fur, which bore traces of frost from the relentless northern gusts. Although the biting chill persisted, your body had grown accustomed to its icy touch, rendering you impervious to its sting.

At most, you suffered from a mild case of frostnip, far from the severe frostbite that could afflict you if you prolonged your stay in this frigid wilderness for a few more days, a constant reminder of the dangers that awaited those who dared to defy Mother Nature's limits.

The Romog, sensing your restlessness, nudged you gently with its snout, as if urging you to move on. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly withdrew your hand from the beast’s fur, feeling a pang of sadness at the loss of its comforting presence.

You knew that you had to continue your journey into the Village to seek shelter and warmth before the unforgiving cold took its toll on you. You needed to find Geoffrey Jill.

Flicking your hood over your head, you venture farther from the village to a side road, so you don't look suspicious walking to the Village from the tree line. As you approached the gate, a sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach.

The towering entrance, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree, its bark known to be as sharp as a blade, was a formidable barrier, separating the outside world from the safety and sanctuary within.

Despite the imposing presence of the gates, the guards stationed at the entrance appeared strangely indifferent to their duties. They stood there, their eyes glazed over, seemingly oblivious to the comings and goings of the villagers and outsiders alike. It was as if they were mere statues, frozen in time, rather than vigilant sentinels protecting the Village.

If what your teacher taught you about the Kingdom was right, then in most bustling regions, gaining access to a village of such importance would require strict adherence to protocols. Identification checks, trade permits, and thorough questioning were customary measures to ensure the safety and security of the inhabitants. Yet, here, it seemed that such precautions were nonexistent. Which was odd.

This lax security raised a myriad of suspicions in your mind. Was it possible that this was all an elaborate ruse, a carefully crafted plan to lure you into the open? After all, your Uncle had been relentlessly pursuing you, his desire to capture and kill you evident in the wanted posters that seemed to adorn every tree you and the beast had passed.

But for now, this seemed to be your sole option at the moment. Where else could you possibly seek refuge? Escaping the bitter cold and finding this mystery man is your top priority. The urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation or contemplation; your next move would have to wait until later.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your weary shoulders. The biting wind whipped against your face, numbing your senses. With a gulp, you cautiously approached the two guards, trying your best to appear nonchalant.

Your trembling added to the act, making it seem like you were simply a weary traveler seeking refuge from the impending winter storm that loomed ever closer. The first stick of snow to the ground usually meant a winter blizzard would follow.

Your heart thudded rapidly in your chest, almost to the point of pain, as you breezed past the guards who seemed more interested in chatting with each other than actually checking credentials. And just like that, you found yourself standing within the walls of Thaos Village, your pulse still racing with the fear of your successful infiltration.

‘Mother, Father— I made it.’

It was only when the moon rose high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the village, that you had finally stumbled upon Geoffrey Jill.

When you wandered through the village, you were initially lost in admiration of its liveliness despite the cold weather and impending blizzard. The streets were bustling with people, their laughter and chatter filling the air, while the cozy glow of warm lights spilled out from the windows of quaint cottages. The villagers seemed undeterred by the freezing temperatures, going about their daily routines.

The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meats wafted through the air, tempting your taste buds and igniting a hunger that had long been suppressed. The colorful array of fruits and vegetables displayed in the market stalls beckoned to you, their vibrant hues a stark contrast to the dullness of your daily routine.

As you meandered through the throngs of people, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of life around you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for the simple joys that seemed so out of reach.

It resembled a passage extracted from the cherished storybooks of your childhood, it was enchanting in a way. especially for you who had rarely stepped foot out of the castle. Commoner life seemed almost… peaceful in a way. You were fine with just walking the streets, dodging running children, and gazing longingly at the food stalls— it had been forever since you had eaten an actual meal.

"Would you care for one?"

As you snap out of your reverie, the world around you slowly comes back into focus. Your eyes meet with those of a woman in her middle age, and you are immediately struck by her captivating appearance. She possesses a round figure, exuding an air of warmth and comfort. Her delightful rosy cheeks add a touch of vibrancy to her overall countenance, giving her a youthful glow.

Her features are refined and elegant. A flat nose sits perfectly in the center of her face, adding a sense of symmetry and grace. Her full lips, slightly curved upwards, seem to hold a perpetual smile, inviting and comforting to all who encounter her. They speak of kindness and understanding, ready to offer solace or share a laugh. Her skin boasts a rich, deep umber brown, like the earth itself.

Yet, it is her eyes that truly captivate you. They are the windows to her soul, and they hold a depth that is both mesmerizing and intimidating. A flawless, all-knowing amber hue fills her irises, shimmering with a wisdom that seems to transcend time.

When her gaze meets yours, it feels as if she can see into the very depths of you, peering into your thoughts and emotions. There is an intensity to her eyes, an unwavering focus that demands your attention.

You smile beneath your hood, you doubt she could see it but do so nonetheless. “Oh, that's alright; I have no money at the moment,” you utter, your voice hoarse from the winter chill, and your throat parched from the absence of water and the biting cold.

The woman grins, it's beautiful and motherly and it warms your belly better than any beverage ever could, it makes you miss your own mother a bit more; if even possible. She grabs one of the skewers and holds it out to you. “My treat, child. Now run along and get home, the winter blizzard is coming.”

Initially hesitant, you tentatively extend your hand towards the bottom of the skewer, feeling the cold seep through your frost-nipped fingers as they slip out from under the protection of your cloak. Though she doesn't acknowledge it, the sad smile that encases her full lips tells you that she's noticed. “Thank you, I’ll pay you back, swear it,” you assure her earnestly.

She lets out a gentle laugh and gestures for you to leave, “Alright, alright, head on home.”

With a now full belly, warmed from the delicious blend of salty meat and spicy vegetables, you now search for Geoffrey Jill with a new intensity. Despite the freezing temperatures of the northern region, which seem to penetrate your very bones, you navigate through narrow alleyways and bustling food stalls without giving the cold a second thought.

However, as night fell and the temperatures plummeted even further, your energy waned and your awe from earlier, quickly transformed into bewilderment. The once vibrant village now appeared eerie and desolate under the pale moonlight. The laughter and chatter had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence broken only by the howling wind. The cozy glow of lights had dimmed, leaving the streets shrouded in darkness.

Despite being disoriented and having already been turned around twice, you struggled to find someone who could point you in the right direction to locate Geoffrey Jill. The few villagers you encountered were bundled up in heavy outside blankets, their faces hidden beneath scarves and hats, making it difficult to discern their features.

Their hurried footsteps echoed through the empty streets as they scampered home, seeking refuge from the biting cold.

You felt helpless, standing in the middle of the street.

However, it appeared that the sight of you struggling to find your way through the village, weighed heavily on the shoulders of a man named Tomás Duall. He was an elderly figure, who was reliant on a cane for support, possessed a slight hunch, and a crown of wispy white hair– and he had offered to take you to Geoffrey.

His eyes held a deep sadness, as if burdened by the weight of his past. A peculiar scent lingered around him, a mixture of smoke and a hint of sweetness, reminiscent of candy. Tomás had led you to Geoffrey, and while doing so, spoke softly of his lost love and the children he never had, his words tinged with a sense of longing and regret.

“Child, don't follow my example. Pursue the one you desire.”

He left you with those words as he bid you farewell at the entrance of Geoffrey’s house. Unexpectedly, you discovered a fondness for this elderly man. Despite his cheeky demeanor and tendency to give hearty pats on the back while sharing a funny story, you found him rather endearing.

As you brought your attention back to the present, you extended your hand from beneath your cloak and rapped on the door. It's silent, causing a brief moment of panic as your heart tightens in your chest. Could it be possible that he wasn't home? Had the elderly man led you to the wrong house?

You stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you as you waited for a response. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one feeling like an eternity as you listened for any sign of life inside the house. The wind whispered through the trees, the only sound breaking the eerie silence that surrounded you.

Swallowing thickly you knock once more. “Is there a Geoffrey Jill that lives in this home? Eunice has sent me here.” A moment of tense silence follows, the air thick with anticipation. Suddenly, the door swings wide open, revealing a large, intimidating man filling the doorway. His towering presence sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively take a step back, feeling small and vulnerable in his presence.

But as the door opens wider, a surprising shift in the atmosphere occurs. The sound of children's laughter fills the air, accompanied by a woman's voice, likely his wife, softly joining in the joyous chorus. The contrast between the imposing figure before you and the sounds of happiness emanating from within the house is jarring, creating a paradoxical blend of intimidation and warmth.

“How do you know of that name, girl?”

You startle at the sound of his deep voice, it's thunderous even over the sound of howling wind. You gaze up and then further to lock eyes with him. “She was my nanny– she sent me here to look for you, my Unc–”

“I cannot help you, go on your way.”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief and you cautiously tug off your hood, showing him your face. “Do you know who I am? “ You watch as the blood drains from it, watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes flutter shut. He glances behind him before stepping outside to confront you, shutting the door behind him. “Why has she sent you here, where is she?”

Despite your best efforts, tears begin to fill your eyes. “She...she is gone,” you murmur gently, and briefly you fear he has not caught your words amidst the roaring wind due to his profound silence. Yet, as you meet his gaze, you involuntarily recoil at his steely stare and tightly clenched jaw. "She was a foolish woman..."

You cannot bear to hear him speak ill of her, not when she was your dearest friend, your confidante, your mother in all but blood. You feel a surge of anger rise within you, but you swallow it down, knowing that now is not the time for confrontation. As the wind howls around you, you stand together in silence, each lost in your own thoughts and memories of the woman who brought you together, even in death.

Nevertheless, he eventually breaks the silence.

"Forget whatever she may have told you. I cannot help you, you must leave," he declares harshly, turning his back on you. Your breath catches in your throat, and panic threatens to overwhelm you entirely. This couldn't be real.

You reach out to him quickly, your hand grasping his meaty wrist, but you recoil when he flings your hand away, glaring. "P-please, I have nowhere else to go. My Uncle will find me, I cannot die like this-- not when I've done nothing to avenge my Family!"

He scoffs at your words, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Your fate is not my concern. You made your choices, now you must face the consequences," he replies, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. You feel a surge of desperation rising within you, knowing that without his help, you are truly alone in this world. Choices? What choices? You had none. “I have a family now, and I cannot risk their lives to hide a fallen Royal.”

What has your world come to? And why now? Why was this happening to you?

Geoffrey goes to retreat once more and you whimper in the back of your throat, restlessly fidgeting on your feet. "Only for the night, to escape the cold," he explains, his gaze meeting yours, revealing a slight softening in his expression. At that moment, he recognizes you as just a child. With a gruff grunt, he gestures towards the side of the house. “There is a shed, stay there. I want you gone as soon as the sun rises.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The resounding echo of a door's closure is the only response you receive. With a heavy gulp, you suppress the tears that threaten to cascade down your face. What were you to do now? You had no place to go, there was a bounty on your head and winter was coming— you would surely succumb to the icy grip of death before avenging your family.

Quivering beneath your cloak, you navigate around the corner of the dwelling and chance upon the shed that Geoffrey had mentioned. Though modest in size and riddled with gaps in its wooden structure, it was better than nothing.

Pushing open the door, which emitted a mournful creak, you slip inside and collapse onto the floor covered in fragrant hay. As your body temperature gradually rises, shielded from the frigid northern winds, a torrent of tears breaks free, streaming down your frozen cheeks. Why you?

Before the sun rose that morning, you were gone, you had slipped away unnoticed, escaping through the gates where the soldiers stood watch as stoic as ever. The bustling of the villagers as they started their day only served to highlight the emptiness in your own life. With no direction and no sense of belonging, the weight of displacement settled heavily on your shoulders.

The icy touch of the northern winds no longer fazes you, your eyes dry and unyielding to tears, and the sensation in your feet has long faded away. You wander without purpose beside the road, your hood tattered from snagging on skeletal branches. Your mind is a foggy haze, memories slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

You trudge forward, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the winter wilderness. The road stretches out before you, endless and unforgiving, leading you further into the heart of the icy wasteland. But still, you press on, driven by a force you cannot name.

Perhaps it is a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness that propels you forward. Or maybe it is simply the instinct to survive, to keep moving despite the odds stacked against you.

The 'beast' had vanished from the very spot where you had last seen it. Maybe it had decided to leave, and you couldn't fault it for that. In fact, if given the chance, you would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.

And although you had initially chased the creature away when your paths crossed, now you couldn't help but acknowledge the profound sense of solitude that engulfed you in its absence. It was astonishing how deeply you had connected with it, even in the mere span of two days.

Banishing those intrusive thoughts, you shift your attention to the world around you. After trekking for what seemed like an eternity, the snow crept up to your ankles, and you were hardly able to see in front of you. The frigid air enveloped you like a thick blanket, making each step feel like wading through a sea of molasses.

You could feel the weight of the snow pressing against your boots, making each movement a struggle. The once familiar path had become a treacherous maze, with the snow-covered trees and bushes blending in a monochromatic blur. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the occasional creaking of branches under the weight of the snow.

The bitter cold gnawed at your bones, seeping through every layer of clothing. Your fingers and toes were numb, and you could feel the sting of frostbite threatening to take hold. The frigid air seemed to penetrate every pore, leaving you shivering uncontrollably.

As the blizzard began to manifest its icy wrath, the wind surged with newfound vigor, and the temperature plummeted to depths unfamiliar to your senses. In this desolate road, the realization of your death gripped your heart, an undeniable truth that whispered through the frigid air. You were going to die.

You slowed to a stop, and your limbs, once enfolded tenderly around your midsection, descended languidly to your sides, resembling a lifeless puppet. You were going to die. The icy grip of death or the cruel clutches of starvation awaited you. You had no place to go. The dreams of revenge that once fueled your every action now seemed distant and unattainable.

Perhaps it was time to consider a different path, one of acceptance and surrender. Why not just meet your family halfway? You could be reunited with them if you just…stopped.

So you did. Your legs gave way, and you collapsed, your bag slipping from your weary shoulder. As you tumbled into the snow, it welcomed you with open arms, cushioning your fall. Then you were no longer cold, no in fact you felt warm.

Nestling deeper into the snow, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be transported to a different time and place. In your head, you saw yourself as a child, cradled in your mother's loving arms. You could almost hear her gentle humming, a lullaby- its name long since forgotten.

The world around you faded away, and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, the weight of your burdens finally lifted. It was a slumber that beckoned for eternity. A few moments more, and death would claim you as its own, offering you an escape from the pain and suffering that had plagued you for far too long.

But just as you were about to surrender to sleep, a voice pierced through the darkness. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it grew louder with each passing second. "Wake up," it whispered urgently, pleading for your return. Confusion washed over you and you slowly opened your eyes, the vision of your mother fading away.

Instead, you were met with the comforting gaze of your beast. It stood tall and formidable, its snout tenderly nudging your cheek. But you couldn't, you didn't want to go on anymore- and so, with a heavy heart, you closed your eyes once more, yearning for the eternal embrace of sleep.

It was warm you realized, almost tenderly so, the thick heat permeated every fiber of your body and it carried with it the intoxicating scent of smoke and embers, enveloping your senses in a dizzying embrace. This was no mere illusion, no figment of your imagination like the deceptive warmth you sought while nestled in the icy embrace of snow. No, this was a tangible warmth, a palpable sensation that was real.

It was all-encompassing, like you were wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a huge, blazing fire. It was as though the very essence of existence had been breathed back into your body. It was as if every nerve in your body was on fire. You never wanted it to end, never wanted to return to the mundane reality of life on the run. If this were death, you’d eagerly welcome it.

But it was not. You could hear the eerie sound of the howling blizzard wind and if you focused hard enough, you could discern the faintest touch of icy coldness caressing your skin from time to time, only to be swiftly engulfed by a comforting warmth. You were alive. You were alive. It shouldn't have tasted bitter on your tongue, the thought of living– but it did. Reality had a cruel way of creeping back in, like a thief in the night.

Fluttering your eyes open, you’re immediately met with darkness accompanied by the faint sound of the rhythmic dripping of water. Groggily, you tilted your head towards the left, where the furious northern blizzard continued to roar with a vengeance, and you gave your weary eyes a chance to adapt to the profound darkness. After a few minutes, gradually, the feeble radiance of the moon emerged. Night had fallen.

You could hardly think, let alone remember what happened after you passed out. Where were you? Who brought you here? And where exactly was here? All these questions but no answers. Sitting up slowly, you turn your head, scanning the surroundings with a sense of unease, the warm air wrapping you in a soft embrace, as if it were alive. Yet there was no fire to be found. No flickering flames, no glow of light, no sound of crackling firewood. Where was it coming from?

The sound of crunching footfalls on the snow startles you and your body, overcome with a primal instinct, lurches backward, stumbling and trembling, seeking refuge against the warm cave wall. “Who is there? Have you brought me here?” Silence hangs heavy in the air, amplifying the thunderous beats of your heart, as their steps hasten and your breath becomes shallow and rapid, your chest tightening with each passing second.

There was a high pitched whine before your Romog companion sauntered into the wide expanse of the cave. Its fur was matted with snow which seemed to twinkle like jewels in the dull moonlight. You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath of relief, resting your head against the wall, heart slowing to a soft thump.

You could now vaguely remember seeing the Romog before you passed out, feeling the icy cold touch of its wet nose on your cheek. Perhaps the beast had pulled you into the cave before the weather could truly put you out of your misery.

A nudge on your neck makes you open your eyes, gaze slanting to the right to look at the animal. Its eyes are familiar and warm, it leaves your heart to somersault lazily in your ribcage. You smile small and reach out to run your hand along its jaw. “Where have you been?”

There’s obviously no reply but the beast cuddles its large head into your lap and rumbles contentedly, eyes falling shut. You breathe out a sigh and caress through its wet fur, once again resting your head on the warm cave wall. With a little bit of the security you had, now that the Romog was here, you took the time to scan the cave.

It's massive, and if the warm draft is anything to go by, it's quite deep as well. The constant but faint sound of dripping water also hints at some type of lake or stream within the cave— your mouth salivates at the thought of water sliding down your parched throat. It had been days since you'd last had anything to drink.

And despite how paranoid it might've sounded, this cave felt strangely, lived in— it didn't seem abandoned in the slightest, but you also felt safe. In the state that you were in, it wouldn't be wise to roam and explore the cave just yet. However, when you have the energy to go do so, you will.

But for now? You would sleep once more.

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ladythornofrivia · 1 day

Text

SING FOR ME (part one) | REVISED

dark!aemond x septa!tyrell!reader 🌹

summary: a once princess from a noble house took sworn oath for the Faith of the Seven blossomed into a septa with immaculate reputation due to her gift and preserving her virtue until the fate encounters with the one-eyed prince. (Also inspired by Phantom of the Opera).

warning: stalking, r*pe, unprotected sex, non-con, dubcon, dark aemond, manipulation, obsessive, kidnapping, aemond being delulu

a/n: I'm so sorry--I had to revise this. I didn't think it's good enough, so I had to make some changes, even the title--it feels off. Please forgive me.

Chapter One

The Pious Rose

The most beautiful rose was hidden away from the gardens.

The rose meant to blossom, not wither. She wasn’t meant to be tucked in the rest of her life. (Y/n) wasn’t meant to be tucked in the shadows. She belonged in the golden daylight, surrounded with flowers and her companions, her servitude in the Faith of the Seven, a lady with a driven purpose for the greater good to the Gods in the Sept. Her fate is supposed to be hers and hers alone.

Her dignity, her honor, her virtue and morals, one that inspires love and peace.

Within this darkness, how will the bask of sun shine her with comfort—living in suffocation. How will she live?

Rigid walls greeted her when her eyes were open. Where is she? Her stomach ached with a sharp jab. What has transpired for your fate to be trapped in a lonesome room with no sunlight, no candles, no sound and touch of breeze gliding through the windows? The windows were shut—no, you were confined.

Like the light, her hope has dimmed, and the shadows of her qualms and debate within her outlive. In this darkness, no one was present to succor her distress. The tattered clothing on your sleeves dampened from tears she shed.

No mother or father or sisters to guide her back home.

No servant or subject would come to her aid.

No guard to escort her out of the darkened room that has confined her to flee.

No sound of laughter, or talk amongst folks and lively music she had grown accustomed to.

The air is vacant. No one is to hear the voice but hers and the walls. And the door is locked. No way of escape.

The world felt so small and cramped, you weren’t sure if your life has been meaningful. Surely the Gods were testing you in this challenge.

The peace didn’t last when a heavy oak door boomed with long croak shattered the silence, flames pierced onto your sleepy eyes, until you met the eye of a certain shadow looming over her.

Several Months Ago….

It is said that the Gods had given grace to someone holy and pious. But you were the most holy and pious of all.

But it wasn't pious and holiest reputation.

With a gift you possessed, you managed to capture everyone's hearts, even the look of your beauty. But a song is what entranced every noble and ladies and children alike--at every occasion--namesdays, feasts and tourneys, and at every private and bond between families. Lords and ladies in every kingdom requested for you to commemorate on their special day.

Your song was a gift of light. A song in your voice is a gift of your heart and feast for the soul. A heart so pure and ethereal, that even men would swoon with tears.

You sang an eternal hymn, a hymn of love. A stellar performance like yours is not like any other--light and airy and amongst the heavens.

Since the days of wisdom, you are the most beautiful princess in all of Westeros, titled as ‘Golden Rose—the Rose In Winter and Sun’, ‘A Rose Never Wilted’—as you were born under a chilled winter under a golden sun, hence the given title. You’re the youngest of all Tyrell daughters.

Guests and family members of the court showered you with gifts, jewels, dresses and dolls that is twice as heavy and shiny with importance. Since when you were a child, you are cheery and bright; cheeks flush with health, as you grew older, your mind is constant with wit and daydream.

You have it all.

A gifted wit such as you shouldn’t be cast aside for a nobleman—whether handsome or hideous, young or old, sick or healthy—and to decay as a mother and a widow. And with your wit, you were also pious. Pious and cautious. For a young woman such as yourself, you’re wiser than others.

With every letter the suitors have sent have been casted into the hearth. Sometimes when suitors visited the kingdom, they would often asked of your presence, which you turned a blind eye.

Men.

Men are close to define as a unhinged beast.

Men are vile—filthy as if men are created from Seven Hells. Men are creatures that are made of fire and lust. Marriage is the death sentence to women as men being dutiful as killers and swordsmen at Night’s Watch, with their cocks gelded and their flesh smeared in sin. A woman’s body is as holy as the Sept, must be preserved and clean and mustn’t be driven with temporary hunger. The thought of your virtue being soiled by a man disgusts you, almost a phantom pain summoned between your legs, jab like a sharp knife. You shall never be clean again—overripe and tainted.

Undesirable, one which you can’t undo, with a child born in a mother’s belly was a monstrous and vile thing to give from an unmarried and unfaithful man—a beast hungered and scorched, burnt into the ashes of regret, unable to reverse the damage has been done. Frightened of a soiled reputation, as to avoid death, you must remain healthy with vigor.

You witness to all noble ladies, to whoever they consummate or shared pleasure with they’ve spent in secret upon a high nightfall, with their pleasurable sighs and moans, coming on their high, neglecting their noble duties, or how they gave a painful birth, you tend to avoid converse your peers and stayed inside, wandering in the gardens with flowers blooming just for you, as the canary birds chirped you’ve found yourself with reading or sewing or tending the birds in your pass time.

Most noble folks mistook you as shy, but in your heart, its grimace and resentment. At this rate, the noble ladies will likely to gain bastards than those with natural birthright.

No, it was never your destiny to tarnish.

You must remain pure.

With a life like yours, it’s perfect.

Almost.

House Tyrell has thrived since the dawn of time—the Age of Heroes and survived through fiery battles and clashing swords and broken oaths, traitor after traitor. Vows reformed and ruined by the likes of men’s lusty thoughts from their lusty cocks. House Tyrell went through all. How Tyrells became resilience is all thanks to lessons from experience—had been passed down generations to newcomers that breathed their first air.

Through beauty, through grace. Tyrells are clever and winsome and sly. Flower among flowers. But with flower with thorns are all the more dangerous.

It is said that your beauty is the fairest of all fairs. The day when you’re born, it is said you are bestowed by the Gods of Old and New. Since you were a child, all families brought together in peace. With you as a babe in a cradle, you are precious that when you were a child, you tend with animals and planted seed in the garden for flowers to blossom, for the grass become greener and brighter and clearer in the air. Sometimes you even sang hymns to the injured--animals, more particularly, to ease the frantic emotion that has been emulating.

But those are the days of past.

For years, you have not experienced duty, but all is thrive with a command with a snap of your fingers or whines in your voice to command. For someone young, courtship and marriage is not your intention. Your intentions are made clear to all with prying ears: you would never soil yourself to be bind by dutiful marriage and loveless vows.

But you, as of now, you are made to forge your own destiny. With beauty and grace, you remained to use cleverness for greater good. When you have been informed of the lords’ son wanted your hand, you declined his offer—an offer of negligence and ignorant bliss. That is when your mother resented you.

"Selfish," they all said.

"Cold and calculating," others concluded.

"A conceited bitch," the other men--who have once looked at you with admiration, muttered in between gossip.

Like flowers, beauty and life of love never lasts.

"She mustn't do this," your mother objected. "A young girl like her doesn't know what she wants. She preserve her status as a princess until she gives birth to children and cherish--remain loyal to her husband. That is her future accomplishment. Her reputation amongst men will be tarnish for eternity if she does this. Some men are turning away from her. There's still a chance to remedy this! We must remedy, we must!"

"We have other daughters, my love," your father said with a tender smile. "They have potential to be married off to the suitors. All of our daughters are kind and diligent."

"But all are not as pretty and useful at their talents as she," your mother remarked, as the father's smile died. "She can't be spending her days in the Sept for the rest of her life. I have confiscated all of the books, locked them away so she wouldn't suggest or spark an idea. A woman's mind is as clear as a man's mind. One must give as a future mother and wife. What good are the other daughters for, if they cannot be as achievable as she?"

"This is the fate I choose," you reasoned your father, in determinable rage. "I must do this."

And so, you cast aside the crown, the future prospects of awaiting suitors, who constantly want your hand in marriage of great alliances, and transformed as a septa. Like your mother, few other members of the Tyrell family objected, but your father had the last say and committed to a subjugation of your apply for a challenging task. Although your father and older sisters and brothers shared their support, your mother's intentions are quite clear as it did everyone else's.

As the matter has settled, your mother stopped you midway. "You will regret, for that there are many dangers beyond the threshold. You shall die alone, and no one to love you. The knowledge in books meant nothing to a woman. Books will only give you delusions of idea and that inspires no love but the selfish dreams that you're meant to fail," she hissed.

She's no rose, but a serpent that leeches the flesh.

"I always knew that you're an insipid witch who inspires no love but resentment, as of others. I must remain clean and pious, ever virtuous and benign. I hope you remain bitter and ugly, so that you die alone in your bed, no one to love you. You have killed the love from my father and my siblings, for I want no part with the likes of you," you told her, and barged out at the doors.

Perhaps your thorns are sharper than theirs.

And so, the raven sent a word from the capital, and by dawn—days later—your status is disposed and born anew as Septa (Y/N), and said your farewells and head off, afar from Highgarden with a single tear dropped on your face, as you recalled your grandmother’s words.

Growing strong.

"Farewell, my family, my home, my life, my garden, my comfort..." is all you uttered.

~*~

In King’s Landing, the capital since the dawn of time—has reconstructed and instructed under Aegon I, the most well-known infamous dragonlord that one day overshadow Westeros with a dragon and fury, as well as Visenya with her stubborn grit, and Rhaenys with her peace and wit. Once upon a time, King’s Landing used to be called Aegon’s Fort, but before Aegon’s Fort, it simply used to be a giant forest. Until all three of the dragonlords’ combination of their superb qualities and giant beasts, they’re unstoppable. Therefore, it’d be wise to bow down and surrender, if not, you’d be burn with dragon flame.

Rumor has it when living in King’s Landing, you can afford all the things and wealth and status you desire, even for being a prostitute in one of the inns at Street of Silk, but you intended to avoid filthy things altogether.

Other whispers you’ve heard is the Green Queen, Alicent Hightower, often visited in the Sept. Queen Alicent shed her blood through heretics on praying to her gods for salvation, whatever it may be, prayers to Gods are as sacred as a woman’s maidenhead. Somehow you felt it was out of duty to remain clean, or rebuke the filth to remain clean.

Since the days you have resided in a newfound residence within a glorified kingdom, you immersed your time on tending the orphans and the sick, you tend to your prayers and studies, sometimes tutoring the commoners and bastards and nobles alike—sunrise until sunset. Sometimes the children liked it when you sang them to keep them distract in daytime, or when you sang to them in sleep, for they have no parents to guide them in the land of sin.

In your private quarters, you summoned the belongings you treasured in your luggage—several books, a ring and a doll. There are times where you have missed your family dearly in your heart. Dresses exchanged with robes, your shining hair draped and tucked by veil.

Every once in a while, in your sleep, when an overwhelmed perception intruded in your blank state of mind, you pressed the porcelain glass doll in between your breasts, stroking it’s stringed hair and embraced it tightly.

Somehow, you felt the doll is alive each time you spoke to it, sometimes sang, pretending to be as your family member. You are alone in the capital, but you will outlive the loneliness. But that feeling of loneliness spread, tears dropped, your heart hitched and clenched as if someone’s fingers pressured onto the bleeding organ in your chest after ripping your ribcage open.

"Please stay close to me, stay close to me, my beloved, for the garden has grown cold without you," as you sang to the doll.

Each time your heart beats, the bell tolled in your ears and head on a slumbering nocturnal hour. In an otherworldly place, on the vast side afar from your former homeland, the bells reminded that King’s Landing is your new home.

Every now and then, you sent letters to your family. Every letter they sent gave you a sense of pride and joy--mostly your father, but only to be address as "Your Lord" instead of "Your Father". And every letter, there was a trinket of love that your father shared. And each time you lay on your bedside, you read their letters repeatedly until you lulled to slumber.

But as of late, you gained no response from them. For whatever reason, you kept on writing letters to them.

To think of a good and peaceful life, think of prosperity and glory to your prayers, guidance to a fulfilled wisdom and grace and flourish as the purest soul to fly within Seven Heavens above is the only way after passing on from a life of blood and lust and wretched souls that are beyond saving.

Days had been busied, and days had been hectic and tedious. Shutting your eyes in prayer in front of a grand statue, mouthing prayers in your mouth that you knew by heart. Each time you utter another thought, tears threatened to spill once more.

But you hardened your consciousness and pressed on.

~*~

One day, when dismissed from duties, you ought to find time a seclusion away from books and scriptures—lessons you have dealt with rambunctious children and spiteful elderly on the other side of city. You attended there, tending needs and care for animals, as well. Tending to endless hours seems forever, no way of escape for isolation.

But alas, you found solace under a spare time on a new night--and you have done this several times in several night previously. The area is empty but the walls adorned in fresh red roses and outgrown vines, reminded you of your garden. It was perfect. Surrounded in a garden, light of moonlight pooled behind the tree. On a marbled bench you sat, you resumed with your stitching of a canary, and sang a song from a book you've last read.

The birds chirped alongside yours, as it remain peace, but melancholy. But with the company of feathered friends, you remain your heart steady and true. You have chosen this life.

But as of late, you grew self-conscious, wondering if anyone was spying on you, in case you didn't do your duty to serve the Gods. Therefore, the passing hour has grown dark and departed from a secluded area.

~*~

The underground tunnels of King's Landing was all but darkness. But with a torch placed upon the walls stirred a bit ease to your liking. You ought to company other sisters back to the main ground.

As of now, you didn't like walking alone, as your thoughts remained at the last converse with your mother.

"You will regret, for that there are many dangers beyond the threshold. You shall die alone, and no one to love you. The knowledge in books meant nothing to a woman. Books will only give you delusions of idea and that inspires no love but the selfish dreams that you're meant to fail."

Immediately snapping out of your dreary thoughts, you marched onward with a sewing fabric clutched to your chest. Tunnels rumbled and echoed from your footsteps, as you saw a glimpse of small light above you.

You were almost there.

The air in your breath held in as you felt a large hand grasp your mouth and waist, dragging you back in the dark part of the tunnel. Struggle you as fought your way out, your needlework dropped, dragging and trapping you, wedged between the rustic bars. Biting off his fingers, you scurried off, but caught in between his hands again. You bit again and again until he yanked the veil back, released a sharp wail as the scalp on your golden brown hair has tugged in brute force.

As you attempted to turn around, but a lithe and large retaliated by you turning back around. Behind you, the shadow of someone's trousers dropped, and bent you forward. With large hands gripped tight on your waist, felt a hot tip, his hips grinding you, and plunged it all the way in, blood trailing down on your legs.

You cried aloud as the cock jabbing in your slick cunt.

No, no--not my virtue. Anything but my virtue.

A man groaned in satisfaction as he plunged into you, positioned your wrists behind you, hearing the wet splat as his hips snapped harshly to your entrance.

"Please...no..." you begged, cried.

But the man ignored you, a guttural moan pressed onto your ear, a man’s breath panted.

As he reached his high, hot semen spilled, leaving you breathless and beaten. Bruises on your skin swollen with numbness and your hair--the veil undone, your tucked hair loosened with tangle. Leaning forward with your shaken hands support from fall, you didn't spare a moment to shed your tears, as your final thoughts head straight to the culprit. Your eyes dazed in confusion and hurt. Why would someone hurt the person who was trying to heal the weak, and to preserve a restoring peace?

In your last moments of awake, your eyes glimpsed of a shadow strutting down at your direction, and passed out before a chance for you glimpse and run away.

Heavy footsteps caved in.

And the breath withhold loosened as a pair of hands reached you.

Like every flower, they wither.

~*~

In the next hour, you woke up, surrounded by darkness on cold bedside. You trudged at the door, finding out it was locked. Your fists banged against the door, screaming, "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

Each time you screamed, your tears formed and stuck between your lashes. The tight, cold air caved into your chest, breathing harshly as your hands reached its exhaustion.

Then a pain between your legs had swollen each time you stride vastly back and forth, unsure to grasp the circumstances. It was then you realized one conclusion. Therefore, you tried to find another path, but how could you when you don't know its secrets to where you're standing now? Everything is dark and you're buried with stoned walls, nowhere to run to, or to hide or to tell someone to help you escape and flee from a wretched prison.

Leaning upon the wall, relying on a dimmest light of candle flame, you rested as your back slid downward, pressed against the wall, cuddled your knees to your chest and wept.

Weeping went on, but your hope wasn't lost.

But months went by, as the consciousness in your heart was trying to cooperate, to survive at least for tomorrow and the upcoming of days. You've been fed and clothed and sheltered. But it's not to your content; you yearned for more. There are times where you have sang to yourself, but still ended in tears with no one to hear but your own.

Oh the Gods have been cruel, but the god in your heart sets alight of hope for freedom, finding its way, but you must find a way within a perfect time.

Until one day, in your confined chambers, the dark room lit up until you faced the tall shadow casted before you with a sapphire glinted under the heavy cloak.

A shiver ran down on your neck, knowing who it was.

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