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rinvtaro · 2 years

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꒰ 📖 ꒱ + WICKED THRONE — S. MANJIRO.

꒰ ✉️ ꒱ + f!reader. royal!au. rebel!au. enemies-to-lovers. romance. heavy angst. fluff. slow burn. character deaths. eventual smut. ooc!manjiro i write him the way i want to idc.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ + this chapter has brief mentions of bullying. contains explicit smut: fingering. cunt slapping. slight dacryphilia. cunnilingus. clit stim. unprotected (obviously). ALSO— i know some of you are gonna jump to the smut part (/j) but please read everything. there are so many details included in this chapter and i have worked on this for days so please don’t skip the parts. ;; listen to this song during yn’s dance. i accidentally deleted a compilation of ask last time so if i failed to answer, that is my explanation :D + thank you for taking the time to write feedbacks + reblogs + create MEMES! this prolly has mistakes here and there because i didn’t edit it thoroughly. nonetheless, i hope u will enjoy this chapter! 10000+ wc. (woah) + endless thanks to @harusick for letting me babble about wicked throne. you’re the best <33

꒰ 🖇 ꒱ + playlist. | masterlist.

CHAPTER TEN: FIRE IN THY DANCE.

“How is your preparation for the Night of Clea?”

A shudder fluttered to the tips of your toes at the Queen Dowager’s question. You tamped it down as quickly as it arose, giving no room for anxiety as you tipped your cup and drank your tea.

Dabbing a clean cloth to the sides of your mouth, you looked at Queen Ylan sheepishly. “It has not started, Your Grace. And much to my chagrin. I have been occupied with matters of the court.”

The Queen flexed her hand while gripping the arm of her seat. Every inch of her screamed regal. Queen Ylan’s face had been beautified: cheeks rose-colored and healthy, lips daintily painted with a faint red hue. Her hair was down— deep black and shining like silk. Manjiro must’ve taken from his mother in that department.

“I expect you have full knowledge about a queen’s duty to the goddess Clea,” she said with exalted authority. “In my first Night of Clea, I sang.”

“And they said it was the most joyous sound of all,” you added with a low, subservient voice.

It was a bright day. The skies were veiled by puffy clouds with birds flying across the expanse of it. From the covered veranda, you watched the seagulls screech and dove for their prey. Their long beaks held fishes between them.

Over the sloshing of waves, the Queen chuckled softly. “No, it was not. I was without talent. I couldn’t dance nor sing, but I preferred the latter. It gladly worked.”

Many times before, you had gone and celebrated the Night of Clea with your family. Considered as one of the most important and palatial events in Elorus, you would wake up early to visit the market for preparations. If you’d come after the sixth bell in the morning, it’s warranted that you would find nothing in the stalls anymore.

It also was the night of the procession. Chosen maidens from Elorus would be escorted by sentries. The women would drape themselves in the finest white silk as they walk through the labyrinthine alleys of Elorus.

The goddess Clea was the patron of the maiden and to the maiden, she had given her blessings. The cavalcade was meant to spread Clea’s blessings to the inner parts of Elorus. Especially to the marginal parts of the kingdom.

Before, Eros would carry you on his shoulders just so you could watch the maidens. You had dreamt of being chosen once. A dream that you held onto until everything went in ashes and agony.

“Will you dance?” The Queen’s question sliced through your musings. Grey eyes like a brewing storm had swung to your direction now.

You cleared your throat. “I will, Your Grace.”

Queen Ylan reached for her cup and sipped. “Will you be alright?” she asked thereafter.

Confused as to what she meant, you blinked. You hadn’t been sick. Did she hear something from the maidservants? “I believe so, Your Majesty.”

“You still are not with a child, then?”

Your heart pumped in your throat as perspiration quickly veiled your forehead. Child. She was concerned about you carrying a child. Of course, you should’ve picked the allusion. Carrying a child meant you could not perform any rigorous act such as dancing.

Softening your eyes to show regret, you looked at the Queen. “I’m afraid not, mother. But we...” You swallowed to let the contemptible words flow. “... we are trying at least every other turn of the moon.”

The Queen cackled. It sounded joyous— the very first time you had heard her elicit such sound. “Oh.” She palmed her chest in plain delight. “Manjiro had always been a little rascal growing up. I could only pray that he is not sapping all your zest.”

Despite the perturbation crawling up your spine, you managed to scratch on a little of your cheek while forcing a giggle. “He is quite zealous, that I’ll admit. But the King takes good care of my well-being, Your Grace.”

“As he should,” she emphasized. “Do tell if he is giving you a hard time. It does not matter that he is the King. He’s my son and I will discipline him the best I can.”

And that brought you to the thought of him with Amara. Under his mother’s sleuthing eyes, Manjiro was impressive to have hidden such a secret relationship. What would happen if you’d reveal it to the Queen Dowager? Not only would you have her sympathies, Manjiro’s action would be reprimanded.

However, it was not your responsibility to oversee Manjiro’s affairs. If he’d prove to be an adequate king, he would know better than to dally with a woman he had not sworn vows with.

You misdoubted that he’d listened to your threats, but rejecting even the thought of infidelity should have had entered his mind. You shouldn’t have threatened him in the first place, for it was expected he behave like a gallant and faithful man.

“That gives me comfort, Your Grace,” you answered with a lowered voice.

You were husband and wife now. There was not any need to drag Queen Ylan to your argument. You should be able to control this with your authority alone.

“I hope you do not find me selfish for what I’m about to speak,” the Queen Dowager proceeded, “I know having a child is between you and Manjiro only. But I grow old every single day and I wish to see my grandchild before Aenar comes for me.”

Your palms turned cold. The Sano line must thrive. It must continue for generations and you would play a great role in elongating their lineage. Regardless of your bad blood, there would come a time where you and Manjiro would have to unite.

“I will pray for the goddess Aris, who oversees all prayers of motherhood, to make it come true, Your Grace.”

And you hoped that the goddess would not heed your prayers.

After your tense conversation about motherhood and heir, the Queen returned to the Second Palace to visit Emma. While you traversed back to the First Palace to find the danseur the Queen had recommended for you. She said he was to overlook your preparations for the Night of Clea like how his father did before for Queen Ylan.

The Night of Clea. It brought back so many memories. Memories of you and the other maidservants competing for the best tapestry. It was also the time wherein you and Eros would make sweets for the whole manor. Giving it to urchins running across the Capital and to the elderly you’d passed by the road.

If given the chance, you would love to do it again.

“Your Grace!” Nera gasped, appearing on the other side of the corridor and running with her skirts pulled up. Her freckled face was flushed as if she had ran a marathon. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

Noticing the fervency in her eyes, your heart had been grappled by a fist. “I was with the Queen Dowager. I hadn’t known you’ve arrived from the manor. Oh mighty Aenar, Nera, what happened?”

In your behest, Nera had traveled to the manor to look over the preparations your mother was doing for the special festivity. You hadn’t expected her to arrive back so soon.

“I carry with me news, Your Grace,” Nera whispered. You scrutinized her lips as she mouthed the word ‘Advari’.

“Come with me.” You grasped her hand and led her towards one of the empty rooms in the First Palace.

Once you had secured yourselves away from eavesdropping ears, Nera had fished something from her pockets. The parchment was familiar as you had received two of its kind from Draken before. At its sight, your throat tightened.

“This is from Takashi, Your Grace,” Nera said sotto voce. “We met each other in the market. He and the rest of the Advari are well, but he told me to hand this letter to you.”

Mitsuya. It did not surprise you to know that he was the only one who’d reach out after the quarrel in the cave. However, the reality of it all still perforated your chest.

His neat handwriting was before you after opening the letter with careful yet eager hands.

I hope you have been well, Your Grace. I know we have not parted kindly. But you are still a part of us, at least, for me. You have helped us in more ways than one and all we have given you were disappointments for our lackluster efforts. I did not write this letter to relieve you of the grim memories. I have written this to let you know that Chifuyu has joined Baji and Kazutora. He has forfeited our cause, too. And I’ve heard from the scouts that they are currently hiding inside the spice shop in Hanemiya’s household. I ask that you be careful.

You crumpled the paper in your hands with your heart thudding as loud as ever.

Times truly had changed. The Advari was falling apart. The Advari that your brother had sacrificed himself for. They were soiling his honor and everything he had offered up for its cause.

“I need to see Baji and the others,” you murmured in condemnation, your head pumping in rage. “I need to know why.”

Worry painted Nera’s face just as immediately as your words slipped out. She reached for your hand with her slightly trembling one. “I am with you, Your Grace. But the Night of Clea is fast approaching and your preparations still have not begun.”

You gnawed at your bottom lip. Every nerve in your body was jumping madly. You needed answers. You needed explanations. But your mind had turned to a clean sheet of parchment and it wouldn’t allow any logical excuses to help you beat a retreat from the Palace today.

You pressed two fingers against your temple. If only you had not been hailed as queen, you wouldn’t be trapped inside this enormous cage.

“Find Mada for me. Tell him I will begin the preparation later this evening,” you spoke hurriedly. “I will speak with Manjiro. Let us meet in our chamber.”

“Your Grace...” Nera’s face continued to fold in trepidation but she bobbed her head lightly. She knew better than anyone else that you wouldn’t stop until you get what you want. And that was to leave the Palace at this very crucial moment.

Manjiro wasn’t hard to find. He was in the open courtyard, jumping off a horse with Haruchiyo and Rindou. His tunic was slightly drenched in his own sweat. His hair was damped down to his neck. Shaping the mounds of his chest was the strap of his quiver. You severed your eyes away from the sight when you realized what you were doing.

“Oh, my love.” He handed his quiver to the nearest servant before strolling towards you. “Have you been looking for me?”

Flustered to some degree at how natural the endearment rolled off his tongue, you gulped down quickly. “I am,” you admitted hesitantly.

Manjiro beamed. You cocked a brow at the sight. He had no right to be that handsome. And why was he even smiling as if he’d won a game of cards?

“That,” he pinned the word with a roguish smile, “makes me glad.”

Ignoring the contemptible flutter of your stomach, you divulged, “I wish to speak with you.”

“I am all ears,” he responded. “Speak your heart.”

Something was definitely wrong with him. Why did he sound so peaceful? There was not a hint of antipathy radiating off from him. What did he find outside?

“I will... I will visit the manor,” you imparted, “The Night of Clea is near. It is our tradition to celebrate it together in the House of Aven. But as I am to perform my queenly duties that night, I wish to greet them today.”

Manjiro pinned a brow up. “And you are telling me this for my permission or...?”

“To inform you about my departure. I will be back later at eventide to dine with you.”

The King extended his hand to capture your left one. He brought the back of it to his lips while staring at you. “I will wait for you, then.”

You raised a criticizing brow but did not yank your hand away. “Did you eat something today?”

Manjiro echoed a throaty laugh before leaning closer to kiss your cheek. “Be careful and bring sentries with you.”

It was the courtyard. Servants ran to and fro. Manjiro’s actions were only valid but it was laced with something you could not determine. And you remained clueless as to why your heart leaped at this affection he was displaying.

“I will.” You swung your eyes to Haruchiyo’s way, who opened his mouth as if to suggest something. “I have not any need for assassins.” With that, you left the three to prepare for your departure.

Along with Rindou and Haruchiyo, Manjiro watched your back as you walked away with a few ladies-in-waiting. You always carried that ruthless gait in you— back pinned, chest pushed out, eyes straightforward.

A shudder traveled to his spine and in between his legs. Where the heat he felt had no affair going to.

“Your Grace,” Haruchiyo hailed from his back. “Do you want—”

He quickly shushed him by raising his hand. “You heard the Queen. Her word is the word.”

—

You arrived at the manor with Nera, a few ladies-in-waiting, and a dozen sentries flanking both of your sides. It sure has garnered lots of attention on your way. All of them wide-eyed or waving at you as you traveled, which was an unexpected sight. They wouldn’t even glance your way before.

At what greeted you on the front porch of the main house, your mood immediately soured. There was Lady Bria with your mother, sharing tea and loud giggles.

Unaware of your sudden visit, your mother jolted in her seat at your arrival. Lady Bria, on the other hand, lowered her eyes to offer reverence.

“Your Grace.” Lady Hestia bowed with a satisfied smile on her lips. “A pleasant day.”

“Good day, Your Majesty,” Lady Bria added.

How long had it been when your mother tried her best to converse with the noblewomen in the ball but none of them had been eager to? Now, they visit your house as if they hadn’t gossiped about your family for years.

“I didn’t know you’d come,” your mother added, “I would’ve prepared a feast for you, Your Grace.”

Oh, she would. Of course, she would. Your mother might appear chummy with these noblewomen, but you knew she’d be too willing to flaunt her daughter. The Queen of this kingdom.

“Mother, you look well.” You gave her a peck to the cheek, deliberately ignoring Lady Bria’s presence. “Where is father?”

“Oh, he is at the shop. You know how immersed he becomes when it is the Night of Clea,” she said with a sway of her hand. “Lady Bria even bought two dozen barrels of Vonvello. Can you imagine?”

Two dozen? Just months ago, they wouldn’t even look twice at your father’s shop. All customers he had came from other kingdoms or places that hadn’t yet heard of what calamity struck your family years ago.

“The Vonvello is exquisite, Your Grace. Nothing that I have tasted before,” Lady Bria added with a glint to her eyes.

“Is that so? Well, it is your first time purchasing, after all.” You flashed her a sweet smile, but it was obvious she caught the hint of what you were trying to set across. Her eyes blinked rapidly and her throat kept bobbing down. “I will leave you to your conversation, mother. I have to visit the market.”

Lady Hestia sat upright, perturbation masking her face. “You cannot. You are the Queen now and it will not be safe.”

“It was not safe before but that didn’t stop me, did it?”

For the first few years after Eros’ demise, children your age would browbeat you whenever you dare come out of the manor. There was one time an egg was thrown at your head which resulted in a laceration. You came home bleeding that day. Regardless of your parents’ rage, nobody listened to them.

She grabbed your hand. “It’s different now, darling. I cannot—”

You pulled away from her tight grasp. “Mother, I am speaking to you as the Queen. And I will not be hindered.” Before I fully succumb myself inside a gilded cage.

Realizing that her words wouldn’t have an effect on you, she pursed her lips together and nodded grimly.

You did not wait for the dismissal before returning to your old chamber, where Nera helped you don a thick cloak to help you hide your identity.

Everyone in Elorus knew your face now. Dangers lurked not only in the shadows of the moon but under the sun, too. The Advari wasn’t the only enemy of the kingdom, after all. King Einar and his Council had punished the poor and the helpless, which had created them more foes than one.

The ladies-in-waiting and the sentries were as clueless as a sleeping imbiber about your departure through the back of the manor. There were tall trees to hide you and Nera as you traveled the rocky steps through a hidden alley leading to the market.

Fearful of what had happened to Eros, your parents had reached a point of paranoia, believing that something inimical would happen if they let you out of their sight. As a new member of the Advari, you had to meet Draken for the second time that particular night which guided you to the secret pathway.

The clamor of the market went louder. The pots and pans, the yelling of the textile sellers, the unfailing bargaining of buyers, and the shouts of raucous men while chasing urchins who’d stolen an apple warmed your heart.

It was Elorus. The unpretentious version of it, at least. Had Manjiro ever heard or seen this? It would be wonderful to bring him outside the Palaces—

Like a dog rising from the water, you waggled your head. In this moment, he had no affair oozing into the cracks of your thoughts. With your goal of reaching Hanemiya’s spice shop, you swiftly dismissed all thoughts of the King.

“Your Grace, is that Kazutora?” Nera whispered close to your ear.

You followed her sight until it landed on a man with a hair pushing past his shoulders.

“Kazutora...”

You couldn’t believe it. Mitsuya was telling the truth. Why in the devils had they decided to hide right under the King’s nose? Was it because they had not been identified yet?

There was no time to squander. You pulled your hood to your face and sauntered towards Kazutora, who mindlessly stood before the shop’s façade, arranging fruits from the containers.

“Why in the devils are you here?” you hissed, yanking his arm to you.

Kazutora’s amber eyes widened at your sight. But the laidback man recovered his posture as immediately as he could. Without further ado, he pulled you inside the confines of their spice shop.

“What are you doing here?” he gritted, fingers threading through his dark tresses. “Have you gone mad?”

Ascertaining that there was no individual saved for Nera inside the shop, you couldn’t help but grab Kazutora’s collar. “You and Baji have gone mad, Kazutora. Not me. Why in Aenar’s name are you here in the Capital? What are you planning? What happened in the Third Trial?”

At your bombardment, Kazutora placed his hands above his hips and tapped his foot aggressively. “You’ll never understand.”

“Make me understand,” you scornfully whispered. “The plan was to attack the Palace in the Fourth Trial. What happened—”

“Follow me,” he cut you off sharply. “Now.”

You cast Nera a quick glance. She nodded to give you encouragement and so you followed Kazutora up a steep staircase, the wood creaking under your feet.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, afraid to have someone hear you.

Kazutora stopped at the end of the narrow hallway before pushing a door open. “She’s here,” he announced.

You peeked inside the door, sucking in a sharp breath at Baji and Chifuyu’s frames.

The room was stuffed with a lone lamp hanging from the canopy. Chifuyu was perched atop a stack of crates, sharpening his dagger. Baji’s fingers were tapping against the small wooden table, his sharp eyes swinging in your direction.

When your eyes met across the room, anger shrouded your rationality. You stomped towards Baji and hit him with your fist. His head snapped to the side, lower lip dribbling an iota of blood.

“You damned scoundrel,” you chastised before swirling to push Chifuyu’s chest. He knew you were coming but he didn’t move away. He received your frustration with open arms. Kazutora did the same when you punched his chest last. Your knuckles tingled but it didn’t matter. They deserved more than that.

They deserved more than that and yet... and yet you teared up knowing they were safe.

“You damned fools,” you sniffed, wiping your tears harshly. “Who killed the King?”

Silence.

“I did,” Kazutora responded. “It was from my bow.”

Your head began to spin. You had to support yourself by leaning towards the small table. “And yet, you are still here in the Capital as if you hadn’t just killed the King!” you gasped in Kazutora’s way. “What are you thinking?!”

“To kill the tyrant had been our goal since the beginning. Kazutora did it,” Baji chimed in. “And if we hadn’t attacked that day, we would still be in that bastard’s claws.”

Kazutora assassinated King Einar. Fists were squeezing your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. Everything felt overwhelming.

“I was forced to kill an Advari because of your stupid plan. They have voted to kick me out of the cause because of it,” you gritted, shooting Chifuyu a serrated glare. “And I have become Queen because you couldn’t follow a simple plan, Baji. It is partially your fault why I am trapped in this lifetime punishment of having to see and deal with the family who executed my brother.”

“The Advari was collateral. You ought to be grateful,” he responded vapidly.

Your ears rang in untamable wrath. “Collateral? Grateful? Do you hear yourself, Baji? Or have you gone deaf to your own words?”

He pinned a finger to the table as he leaned closer to your face. “You are the second most powerful royal in this whole kingdom because of my plan. Draken couldn’t give you that, could he?”

“This isn’t about Draken!” you gnashed. “This is about your betrayal and the problem it has caused!”

Baji wiped his mouth with his hand, his unusually long canines flashing before you. “This is about Draken and his incompetence. You haven’t seen it yet because of the affection you harbor for him, but he’s hiding something from us and that secret kills him slowly. He cannot lead.”

Staring at him dubiously, you pushed back. Was this truly Baji? Baji, who had been with Draken since the beginning?

“Secret? What secret could he possibly hide from us? We have been his allies for years.”

“But he hasn’t done anything remarkable,” Baji proceeded. His tone held no insult. Only a determined man that spoke his mind. “We have waited a long time. It was time to do things our way and we did. If you look beyond all of it, you will see what great power you hold now.”

“If by that you mean having been surrounded by men who believe they could finish the job better than I, then yes, it is power,” you acerbically responded. Placing your palms flat on the table, you looked at Baji dead in his eyes. “You have not the slightest idea what you’ve put me through, Baji. And if it is the gratitude you want, you will not hear it from me.”

Baji stood up and held your arms. Fervency was evident in his brown eyes. “Listen. There is only one throne and there could only be one ruler. It will not be a Sano.”

“What do you mean?” Word by word, your question whipped up the air.

“When Manjiro Sano is dead, it will be you who will become ruler. The only ruler.”

Dread clogged your throat to the point of retching. Your stomach doubled over at the thought. But a small part of you, that unknown part whispered nothing but power.

“He is nothing like his father,” you blurted. Baji took a step back as your eyes widened, realizing a second too late what you had just spoken.

“The fruit does not fall far from the tree,” Chifuyu chimed in.

“They share the same blood, they have the same tyranny,” Kazutora added. “It shall not confuse you.”

Manjiro as a tyrant? That same man who built his council to counter his father? That same man who had been plotting against those corrupt officials for the sake of his kingdom? But he was also the same man who manipulated a woman to get what he wanted. The same man would go to different lengths just so he could secure his crown. The same man whose brother your brother had killed.

What leverage do you have to think that he wasn’t manipulating you, too?

“How will you kill him?” you questioned out of curiosity. After what happened in the Third Trial, you should consider Baji’s passion to end the Sano line. A line that was in the palm of your hands. Power once again whipped at your consciousness at the thought.

“The Night of Clea is a great opportunity—”

“You cannot!” you whispered with a tapering edge to your voice. “There will be civilians. You cannot harm them.”

“If you want to achieve something greater, sacrifices have to be made,” Baji hissed, his thick brows narrowing.

“Draken will never abandon an innocent life—”

“Draken hasn’t the heart to sacrifice and look at where he is now. The rest of the Advari are growing restless because of his lack of destination. This is bloodshed and a soft heart wouldn’t survive on a battlefield.”

You looked up at the canopy for a brief moment before facing Baji again. “This is not right.”

“This is what Eros would’ve wanted. We cannot let our lives in Sano’s hands anymore. All of us have suffered enough,” Baji whispered. For the first time, his tough façade seemed to crumble.

And you have realized that all of you inside the room had lost something to a Sano. All of you had suffered. You had lost Eros— your brother who showed you what it meant to be brave and how to be loved unconditionally. Your good and courageous brother— gone.

How could you have forgotten?

Tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. It wasn’t Baji and Kazutora who soiled your brother’s memory. It was you.

With a simple strategy such as showing you his hidden Council, you believed in Manjiro despite planning to manipulate him and his Council. Regardless of that in your mind and plan, you were alone fighting in the nest of vipers. For all you knew, they could be plotting something against you, too.

Manjiro wasn’t a fool. You refuted that he had forgotten of his brother. One night of a shared kiss wouldn’t miraculously erase your history.

“I will ask you again. How will you do it?” you asked, gut churning by the memories that had flooded your mind.

“In the Night of Clea, we will attack. Are you with us?”

It sounded different, for certain. Behind the question, you heard something else entirely: Are you the Queen? Or are you a rebel?

—

It was past mealtime when you arrived back at the Palace. Manjiro was nowhere to be found, probably finishing up a few preparations for the Night of Clea.

While bathing, you remained quiet. You still couldn’t thread through the rife thoughts invading your mind. Everytime you attempted to do so, a ball of anxiety would press in between your ribs, causing difficulty breathing.

Nera hadn’t asked a thing. She must’ve noticed your grim expression and silence.

The fire from the hearth danced in your irises as Nera helped you in your nightgown. The flame reflected everything that had happened today. From your conversation with the Queen to your encounter with Baji.

There is only one throne. There could only be one ruler.

If you were to be the only ruler, no one would question your authority no longer. The people would pity you. And as much as you despised the thought of it, sympathy was the easiest of feelings to manipulate aside from love.

If Manjiro was to die, no one would dare take up arms against a lonely, mourning queen. The people would be on your side. In return, you could better help them without the fear of being stabbed in the back by your husband and his Council.

Your thoughts were suddenly riveted to the sound of the door creaking open, revealing the King with Mada following behind him.

“Leave us,” he commanded everyone in the chamber. Mada handed a velvet box to the King before following Nera and the others.

Once alone, Manjiro ambled his way towards you. “I thought you would dine with me.” In his tone, there was a sliver of disappointment. “How was your trip?”

Just how dangerous you truly were, Manjiro?

“I apologize. I had some things to say to my parents that I had lost track of time,” you told him. “What is that?” You lifted your brow at the sight of the velvet box.

With a smile on his lips, he stepped closer to you. “I realized that I still have not given you any gifts yet. Here, you shall try it.”

“A gift?” You touched the velvet box before flicking the lock. There was an audible gasp that echoed from your lips at the sight of a necklace placed prettily in the cushion.

Manjiro picked up the necklace with careful hands before tossing the velvet box to your bed. “It is light and will not hinder your movements. You can wear this on the Night of Clea.”

It was not like any necklaces you have already worn. A circle was its shape, like a big armlet for the neck. Only that it didn’t contain any locks. On its other edge, a ruby was shaped like a crescent moon. On the other, another ruby the shape of a teardrop reflected in your irises.

“It’s... it’s beautiful,” you gasped as Manjiro sat it over your chest. “I love it.”

He lifted your chin. “I’m glad you like it. I shall leave you to rest. Sleep well.”

You grabbed his wrist when he turned to go. “Where are you going? You shall rest.”

“I will soon. We still have to position a group of sentry around the Temple of Clea,” he explained.

You nibbled on your bottom lip. “About... about the festival, can you promise me something?”

Manjiro’s full attention was focused on you now. “If it is within my power, I can.”

Your heart and stomach fluttered rhythmically. It would be the first time the both of you looked peaceful while talking to each other. And you surprisingly liked it— this serenity.

“Will you promise to wear chainmail?” Manjiro lifted a brow. You blinked and quickly formed your thoughts to not sound suspicious. “Whatever happened in the Third Trial, I do not want it to happen again. I know we share only hatred for each other most of the time, but I wouldn’t want to see—”

Manjiro captured your face with his warm hands while searching for your eyes. “Alright. I will. I promise. Now, sleep and sleep well. I will be here right after the conclave.” With that as parting words, Manjiro pressed a kiss to your cheek. “That’s a promise, too.”

You nodded and freed him.

Manjiro fondly smiled before turning his back on you. He kept smiling until the door closed behind him.

“Takeomi,” he declared to the General trailing behind him.

“Sire,” Takeomi answered immediately.

“Keep an eye out on the Queen. Especially in the Night of Clea,” he commanded, eyes straightforward as his steps brought him far away from your shared chamber.

Takeomi inclined his head and said, “I will, Your Grace.”

—

“Your Grace, shall I summon the danseur for you?” Mada bowed his head low as he inquired.

You looked at the mirror. This day, you were wrapped up in a flowy dress that reached the floor. Its fabric clings to you like a second skin.

“No,” you replied, adjusting your sleeves for comfort. “I will go to the dance hall myself.”

You had adjourned your preparations for at least a week now. Queen Ylan wouldn’t appreciate you slacking off another day.

The Night of Clea was approaching fast and the Palaces hadn’t been this occupied. Manjiro insisted that free meals were to be given to everyone who would celebrate in the Temple of Clea. After all, it was your first official appearance as king and queen. Your first Night of Clea.

“Shall we proceed?” you announced with a last touch of color to your lips.

The dance hall was located in the farthest part of the Second Palace. You hadn’t visited the corner yet but Nera claimed it was an open chamber that overlooked the Jade Sea. It was perfect, as you preferred dancing with the air caressing your skin.

It was yesterday when you had met with Baji. Your conversation had burrowed itself into your mind, refusing to disappear regardless of your efforts to occupy yourself.

The revelation of what transpired between you and Baji seared the tip of your tongue. But you couldn’t and wouldn’t dare reveal it to Manjiro. It was cruel, yes. You were his wife but Baji was a friend you cherished with your life.

As much as you refused to admit, he made sense. With his plan and jurisdiction, the Advari managed to assassinate King Einar. Certainly, it had opened doors of possibilities for both factions.

Or perhaps you were losing touch of rationality for staying inside the Palaces that your better judgment is beginning to leave your system.

“Your Grace. A pleasant day.”

You skidded in a sudden halt when Hajime appeared and greeted you. Had you been too deep in thought that you hadn’t seen him approaching?

“Hajime,” you sighed, giving your hand to his extended one. “Good day to you.”

He kissed the back of it tenderly before releasing your hand. “It seems like we are going in the same direction, Your Grace. Will you allow me to accompany you?” He offered his arm which you gladly took with yours.

“Are you going to a dance lesson, as well?” you asked with a small smile.

“Oh.” He chuckled. “I know nothing about dancing, Your Grace. I am to visit my lover.”

“Your lover?” you repeated for confirmation.

Hajime inclined his head. “He is the danseur, Your Grace. We haven’t met each other for months so I want to spend all my spare time with him.”

“Your lover is a danseur but you know nothing about dancing? I find that hard to believe.” You chuckled as he led you towards a new corridor.

Hajime followed your chortle with his own. “He teaches me now and then. But I have two left feet and so it frustrates him in the end.”

“Oh!” You stopped for a moment. “Is he strict?”

“With me. But with the Queen, I doubt it,” Hajime commented with a kind smile. “Besides, you both are good at dancing. Teaching you would be the happiest day of his life.”

Hajime pushed the oak door open. An open wall displayed the glittering sea before your eyes. From the corner of the room was a group of the orchestra who stood up at the sight of you. And approaching with a refined gait was a tall beautiful man. He had blonde hair. But what struck you the most was the burned skin to his left eye. Burned as it was, it stood as a beauty mark.

Aenar truly allowed some people to look this good. You almost couldn’t imagine.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he greeted with a graceful bow, “I am Seishu Inui.“

“My lover,” Hajime proudly claimed beside you. “He is the most skilled danseur in all of Elorus, Your Grace.”

When Seishu straightened, his cheeks were rose-colored with glee in his eyes. “I am not as skilled as Her Majesty, but I swear to give my all.”

“Oh, I cannot be compared to you.” You offered him your hand. “Finally, we’ve met. Take care of me.”

Seishu chortled and shook your hand before extending his to the center of the hall. “Fear not, Your Grace. It is Manon’s Reverentia we will dance.”

Nera and Hajime poised themselves to the corner of the room near the orchestra while Seishu led you to the mark in the center of the hall.

“Manon’s Reverentia? I have not danced that since forever,” you claimed as you began to stretch your feet. For some unfathomable reasons, you couldn’t wait any longer to begin. Dancing had always helped you unwind if archery failed to.

With every flick of Seishu’s body, he had proven how adroit he truly was. It had always been in the way one dancer carried himself. In him, you recognized someone truly skilled.

“Do you still remember the lore, Your Grace?” Seishu began. “Manon’s Reverentia is an airy dance. One should be one with the wind.”

“A little of it I could still remember,” you admitted while copying his stretches. “But the rest are in blear now.”

Seishu flicked his fingers to the orchestra. Suddenly, the room was filled with the tune of Manon’s Reverentia. As finely as one could, Seishu positioned himself and began to dance with a grace that had your own mouth turning agape.

“The goddess Clea fancied all that is beautiful,” Seishu began his telling while turning and swirling. “She is the goddess of beauty, after all. And so the people of Elorus would offer their most alluring possession to please the goddess.” He lifted his hand as if reaching for something, only to retreat like a wave being pulled back from the shore. “But there was a woman— an orphaned woman— with nothing beautiful to offer who fervently prayed for the goddess.”

You watched him with amusement. “That was Manon.”

Seishu smiled at you. “Manon possessed nothing but her ability to dance. And so every full moon, she would venture to the goddess’s temple to dance until dawn.”

You gladly took his hand and started dancing with delight before continuing his storytelling, “One night, Clea appeared to watch Manon. Manon was so glad that she cried while dancing, offering her all to the goddess.”

The tune picked up its pace, driving your heart to pound faster inside your chest. It was exhilarating that you could feel it in your bones.

“Clea promised Manon a bountiful life if the latter will teach the townspeople her dance,” Seishu carried on. “Manon more than willingly agreed not for the promise, but for her desire to dance and teach people.”

Your feet began to move in rapid movements but the flow of your body remained entwined with the wind. Seishu had stopped dancing now to give you the space. And so you danced with your heart’s content.

When Manon died, it was said that the goddess Clea took her to Valar herself. Where she danced in front of the gods with nothing but joy in her heart.

—

The Night of Clea would mark an impression on the people. As the King, Manjiro had prepared all he could for this festivity. It would be his first appearance together with you and he strived for nothing but perfection.

Humble was his accouterments that night. He had no need for jewelry and a pompous display of his status. The night was for the goddess and for his people.

Donned with a satin ruffled tunic paired with a fall front trouser and waist corset, Manjiro wore a simple circlet and a teardrop ruby necklace to complete his regalia.

He had sacrificed a week’s sleep for this night alone. Safeguarding and ascertaining that everything would be in place at the Temple occupied most of his and your time during the preparations. He tightened the protection while you engaged yourself in conversing with the chosen maidens and polishing your dance.

Now that he was with you inside the carriage with the chosen maidens walking ahead of you, he couldn’t contain the drumming of his heart.

His father once said that the Night of Clea was the most magical night he had experienced as King. Not only was he enthralled by Queen Ylan’s singing but it was the night filled with nothing but euphoria.

Manjiro snapped his attention to you. You were waving and smiling from the aperture, already clothed in your dress. The necklace he had given you a few nights ago settled around your neck, matching the one he wore for tonight’s festivity.

Truth be told, he had not expected that you’d wear it. But upon seeing your regalia, Manjiro did everything he could to douse his excitement and yet he failed.

More so when you reached for his hand the moment you arrived in the Temple.

Manjiro pinned his back straight and gripped your hand tightly as you both walked on a laid carpet, receiving the rose petals thrown by the townspeople your way.

Facing north of the Temple was a made-up dais for the royal family. Everyone was already gathered at the long table. Emma, Queen Ylan, Rindou, Ran, and even Izana.

Applause emerged from the nobles and commoners alike as Manjiro sat down on the throne with you beside him. Before his eyes, hundreds if not thousands of Elorian were huddled around the Temple to witness this night.

Manjiro’s stomach churned. Notwithstanding the confidence he had bottled up for this revelry, he felt his throat drying in anxiety. He knew that some of the people watching him tonight harbored only ill feelings towards his House. His father hadn’t left them a good reputation.

“Your Grace, it is time to greet the people,” Ran reminded from his seat. “They are waiting.”

But he was the King now. And he was different from his father in all manner of being a monarch.

Manjiro stood up and poured himself a goblet of wine. With a slow sweep along with the throng of people watching him with keen eyes, he began, “There are many things I have prepared to say, but none of them makes sense now that I am standing before you all. I am well-aware of the horrors our kingdom has been put through recently but that should not hinder our ability to feel life’s little joys.”

He placed his goblet to the table before he carried on, “I may not be the King you would’ve wanted. But I swear in my life that I will always look all of you in the eyes. I am one with Elorus and with all of you. Tonight, let us remember that we are alive despite the sorrows of yesterday. Tonight, we feast.”

Manjiro raised his goblet at the same time the people applauded and cheered for him. His heart immediately warmed. He belonged to these people. He belonged to Elorus.

“Before anything else,” the King added, shushing the crowd, “Let us offer serenity for Manon’s Reverentia.”

You had already descended the dais when Manjiro returned and climbed to his seat. He sat comfortable, holding the rim of his goblet with his hand dangling from the arm of the throne. His thumb on his spare hand cupped his chin as his remaining fingers brushed over his lips, his index pointing between his eyes and brows.

And the dance began.

Your dress was in pure white textile, hugging your body like liquid. It swayed to your movements like water. And whenever you twirl or lift your feet up for another complicated step, Manjiro couldn’t help but swallow.

You were majestic.

Every flick of your hand and sway of your body had Manjiro’s trousers tightening. He tried not to give it attention, but when the tune picked up its pace, he swore he had almost combusted from the heat between his legs.

Clea forgive him but he would command thousands of Elorian to leave just so he could gaze at you alone. Just so this memory would not be imprinted to someone else’s mind but his. Just so no one could treasure this moment as much as—

Manjiro’s thoughts had been riven by a shriek. No. It was not a shriek but a scream of agony.

The dance hadn’t reached its conclusion when a sentry appeared from the woods— burning and clawing for help.

And the serenity was gone when a huge fire suddenly emerged from the forest behind him.

The goblet he was holding fell to soil the ground with its bloody content.

Manjiro’s heart dropped to his stomach when the people started screaming and pushing each other to have their way out.

“Your Grace!” Haruchiyo bellowed over the ruckus. “We are under attack!”

An arrow whipped past. And another. And another. One managed to scratch Manjiro’s arm, tarnishing his shirt. Blood began to pour out of him. Only when he felt the stinging pain did he snap back to reality— snapped his eyes to your direction and swore his world crumbled down to his feet when he saw no one there.

“Where is the Queen?! Protect the Queen!” Manjiro shouted, descending the stairs to run to your last location. His mother and everyone was gone now, safeguarded to their carriages by two or three dozen sentries.

Haruchiyo pulled Manjiro’s arm back but he could feel everything in him shake.

It was so peaceful— it was just so peaceful.

Manjiro turned his attention to Haruchiyo with vehemence in his coal eyes. “Capture every last rebel you can and bring them to me. Now.”

“Dead or alive, Your Grace?”

“It matters not. I need only their heads.”

—

Despite the burning flame from the hearth, your flesh felt cold to the touch. Your knees wouldn’t halt in their shaking. You were certain your thumbnail would start bleeding any moment now from your biting.

“Your Grace, you shall try to rest,” Takeomi suggested from the door.

Watching him standing there instead of protecting Manjiro had given you feelings you couldn’t specify. Were you grateful that his most skilled General was away from him? Or were you dreadful that his most skilled General was away from him in this crucial time?

It happened so fast and without warning. You were dancing one moment and were being protected towards a carriage all of a sudden by Takeomi himself. He reacted by instinct that you fear he might’ve got a whiff of the attack.

Baji. He did it. He truly did it at the cost of innocent lives. Did he succeed? Would you feel satisfied if he did or did not?

You couldn’t even talk. Words had left you since earlier when everything went into a bedlam. Your heart’s beating echoed even in your ears. Its intensity proves how close you were from keeling over.

“You... you are right,” you stammered. “I shall—”

A sudden turmoil erupted on the other side of your door, followed by someone banging it open with fear-stricken eyes.

When your eyes met across the room, a sob almost arose from your throat. From dread or relief, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that Manjiro stood in the threshold, his knees buckling at your sight.

Closing the door behind him, Takeomi left without a word.

“You’re safe.” He blinked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re here. You are safe.” There was nothing you could do but nod. Manjiro stood upright. His arm was wrapped in a cloth with a patch of blood pooling in the fabric. “It must’ve been frightening to witness something like that. I shall leave you to rest.”

You sucked in a breath and nodded again before pressing your knees to the bed, prepared to let all trepidation go and force yourself to sleep.

Manjiro bobbled his head as well and made his way to the door, but before grabbing the handle, he whipped around his body once more. “Aven.”

“Yes?” you eagerly demanded.

“When you disappeared from my sight, I’ve felt a kind of fear that I wish not to feel again.” He swallowed again. “And I realized...”

You grabbed a fistful of your dress, swallowing hard. “You realized what?”

His brows softened against the firelight. “I have realized that I ache for every inch of you.”

“Kiss me,” you curtly demanded, not blinking. “I want you to kiss—”

Manjiro didn’t let you finish. With quick strides, he closed the gap between your lips with a searing kiss. He held your face close to his as you grabbed him closer to you.

His tongue swept inside the crevices of your mouth, tasting every corner as if he would devour you. Your teeth clashed together, passionate to best each other in kissing. But you knew better— you knew better than to fight him in that matter.

Manjiro pushed his tongue into your mouth, earning a moan from you.

His scent made you dizzy that you felt your knees weakening with wanting. It was as though your rope to the world was loosening slowly and you were nothing but a puddle of mess underneath him.

That intense heat— you’ve felt it before but not this passionate. It covered your body, puckering your nipples tightly and setting between your legs.

Lost in the pleasure of his dizzying kisses, you hadn’t noticed that you were already lying on the bed with Manjiro crawling on top of you. There was not a spoken word but the blaze in both of your eyes before he dove for your lips again. Gentler this time with the same intensity.

“Do you want this? With me?” Manjiro whispered against your lips. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” you murmured.

Manjiro pressed his lips to your ear, his breath gusting over your flesh. “I am going to strip you naked now.”

Untouched, your nipples hardened and all you could produce was a moan of approval before the dress three tailors worked in for weeks had been ripped open to the chest.

Your breasts were before him. Taut nipples and all. Manjiro squandered not a moment before covering your tight nipple with his heated mouth.

You gasped as your back arched. Gasps that turned into panting when Manjiro’s cheeks hollowed as he began suckling the aching tip. Your abandoned nipple he pinched with his fingers. He sucked on one while playing with the other simultaneously.

Your cries reached Manjiro. He suckled harsher, tugging on the tip with his hallowed mouth before licking the disk surrounding your nipple.

Between your legs, a pulsing began. A pulsing that sought for attention. While Manjiro licked and sucked, your hand flew down between your thighs. In there, you were mortified at what you felt.

You were wet. So wet that it was embarrassing.

“Show me your hand,” Manjiro gruffly commanded.

“It’s... it’s embarrassing—”

He parted your thighs and swiftly scooped your pantalettes off. Your sex was before him before you could think. In front of Manjiro.

“Don’t... look!” You hissed and swatted his hand away, trying to ward him off. “Your Grace.”

“Aven.” His lips tipped up to the side. “You have the prettiest cunt.”

Your whole face blazed in heat and mortification. “You shan’t talk like that...” He muffled you with a kiss again. A kiss that you answered with the same fervor.

Manjiro nibbled at your bottom lip before pulling back an inch. “I’m going to fuck two fingers inside you. Can you take it?”

Lungs blazing to the point of breathlessness, you still managed to hiss at him. “What do you think of me? Of course, I can.”

Manjiro stared at your face before echoing a throaty chuckle against your neck. His breath tickled but you swallowed your giggle when he pushed two fingers in. Slowly. Carefully. Madly.

“Oh,” you gasped.

The King retreated his fingers to thrust them back in again. “This is one slabbering cunt, Aven. You’re giving my fingers no trouble fucking you.”

“S... stop talking and faster...” you whispered as your hips trembled up, chasing the pleasure of his fingers.

Manjiro looked smug. Smug when he pulled his fingers out, leaving you empty. You opened your mouth to protest but he brought his whole hand to your cunt and tapped lightly. His movement hit a bundle of nerves that had your thighs closing in overwhelming pleasure.

The King echoed yet another gruffed chortle. “Adorable. Will you part them open for me again?”

How could you ever say no to such a face?

With tears swelling in the corner of your eyes because of the pleasure, you ploddingly opened your thighs again.

Manjiro grinned, holding your knees before leveling his face to your cunt. His warm breath fanned the puffy and slicked cleft as he pushed another finger in.

Gripping the satin covers tightly, you bit your lower lip as hard as you could. Sweat misted your skin at the first lash of his tongue to your entrance.

“Your Grace,” you panted at the intrusion of his finger.

You couldn’t help but close your thighs around his head when he began lapping on your cunt greedily. Like a man possessed by something unknown. The King pushed a finger until his knuckles were the only thing stopping him from pushing further.

And you were left writhing, small whines leaving your lips relentlessly.

Manjiro lapped at your folds. Tasting you, parting you open, hardening his tongue to lick a bundle of nerves with a careful roughness that resonated in the whole chamber.

There was something building— coiling around your stomach in a tight knot. And it seemed to swirl and swirl with Manjiro’s merciless penetration.

You panted, lungs burning as he tongued you with a heavy arm holding you down.

He plunged another finger in before curling them up to touch your clenching walls. Pushing and pulling. Rubbing. Curling. Until a jagged cry echoed from you, accompanied by your lungs violently heaving in and out.

At the height of your pleasure, Manjiro plunged his fingers deeper and stretched your flesh to prepare it for him. He didn’t stop punching his fingers in while you cry out in pleasure, tears welling in your eyes.

It was too much that you had to push his head away. Too much and too good.

Manjiro watched you limping in the bed, bones soggy with a slight tremor of your body here and there. He wasted no time to pop the buttons of his breeches, unaware of the painful throbbing in his arm due to an arrow. How could he ever care for anything else right at this moment?

Seeing you like this— naked and trembling from the pleasure he had given you made his cock throbbed that it was almost painful.

Manjiro swiftly tossed his ruffled shirt over his head, the ruby necklace dangling over his pale chest. He watched you watched him with awe as he stroked his cock from root to tip, smearing the thick pre-ejaculate over his length.

He knew he had never been this thick. Had never been this lewd. Had never been this thrilled.

Misted was his whole body. From his forehead to his feet. Manjiro situated himself between your thighs and despite the dim candlelights, he observed your throat as it bobbed up and down.

It’s adorable, he thought. How your eyes flutter in different directions to avoid looking at his cock.

“Do you want to do this?” he once again asked, his eyes raking your naked body and stopping to your puckered nipples up to your face. “With me?”

Your eyes were shrouded when you peered at him. “Hurry up or I might change my mind.” There was a tremor to your voice which he found maddeningly charming.

Manjiro joyously cackled as he slanted his body towards you. He had his cock in his hand, lining the plushed head to your heated cunt. Gods, how warm would you feel around him? How tight would you suck him in?

With a fervent need for answers, Manjiro pushed the tip in. He looked at you, then, teeth gritted as he couldn’t push past the head.

You were gasping, mindlessly bucking your hips against his penetration.

“Aven...” he implored, kissing your lips gently, “Let me in.”

“Let... let you in? Aren’t you in yet?”

Gods. Your voice. Your voice tied his chest with a velvet rope.

Manjiro nuzzled his face to the crook of your neck, breathing in your redolence. “I have only managed to push the tip in. Breathe, my love.”

You shuddered when your eyes met but he felt you giving way, sagging back into the bed.

Manjiro tried again and with a little movement of your hips, he had inched deeper with a satisfied groan. Slowly— so slowly... he thrust himself further until the base of his cock was pressed against the glinting cleft of you cunt.

He was so deep... deep and fighting the urge to pound into you. Gods, Manjiro gasped. You were tighter than he had expected. Warmer than his expectations. You clenched around him so unimaginably good that his cock sporadically throbbed in delight.

With each careful stroke, Manjiro pulled languorously slow before filling you in again. And again. Until his movements had become fluid, courtesy of how wet your cunt was.

Your blood roared in your ears as you purposely sought more of him. Arching your back to meet his painfully slow plunging until the both of you worked together in an unhurried rhythm.

He was so thick... thick and long that you had feared if you’d ever accommodate his length. But now, you were relishing in it, spreading your thighs wider and lifting your feet up to place around his waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Manjiro whispered before thrusting so suddenly that you shrieked and trembled. “So beautiful.”

He leaned back again to part your knees, watching at how greedily you were sucking him into your clenching walls. And how eager his cock had obliged to your cunt’s every whim.

Manjiro let out a gutted noise, pressing a thumb to your swollen clitoris. He pulled your foot over his shoulder to plunge himself deeper and deeper, his hand stimulating your clitoris while his cock occupied your tight hole.

Sweat veiled your body, allowing ease of movement as he slid in and out. In and out.

Manjiro couldn’t see anything but the glorious bounce of your breasts in his thrust and the low flutter of your eyelashes as you watched him take over you— your body and soul.

He had freed all his inhibition now and so had you. His penetration turned sloppy, slurred of dirty words thrown around the air. Tears filled your eyes as Manjiro’s chest tightened in pleasure.

He brought his lips around your aching tit, suckling on it while pounding into you deeply. The bed creaked under your weight, proving just how greedy he was fucking into you now.

“Your Grace,” you cried out, hands embracing his head to pull him closer to your chest. “Oh, gods.”

Manjiro grabbed your hips towards his, earning one sharp yet full moan from your pretty lips. “Say my name,” he demanded against your lips, eyes burning.

You caressed his face, rubbing his lips with your thumb and said, “Manjiro.”

Something broke in him— something feral, unrestrained, reckless. Manjiro fucked you with relentless drives, coaxing screams and shrieks, and an endless flow of his name from your mouth.

“Manjiro.”

“Manjiro. Harder.”

“Right there, Manjiro.”

“You’re so thick... you’re so long... I could feel you in my guts... Manjiro...”

Manjiro pressed his forehead to yours, inching deeper and pressing harder until you gasped. He captured your lips and drank your climax, feeling your whole body quivering underneath him. Tears finally sprang free from your eyes, your cunt sucking his length in.

Sucking him in until he couldn’t bear it any longer. Manjiro broke in a heap of mess, your name leaving his lips in a gutted tone as he filled your cunt with thick and powerful spurts.

He emptied himself inside you, cock pulsating heavily for a long time before he managed to pull out weakly.

You were blown out of your wits, clitoris tingling at the memory of how he fucked you. Manjiro slung an arm around your frame, breathing heavily against your cheek.

Both of your bodies were sapped to the core from the sex that none of you had seen coming.

Manjiro closed his eyes, his lungs pumping as though they would explode. While you remained staring at the canopy, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

The King pulled you close, kissing the curve of your shoulder before yanking the last fabric covering your skin and pulling the coverlet to your body.

You turned to face him. He had his eyes closed. Pale features glowing rose-colored. Your fingertips brushed at his swollen lips before Manjiro playfully bit on your middle finger. You giggled weakly while his lips stretched in a delicate smile.

Without speaking a word, Manjiro took your hand to kiss your palm tenderly. After peppering your skin with kisses, he placed it over his cheek.

You inched closer to your husband to feel his warmth. He looked so peaceful and beautiful. Your thumb brushed over his cheek as remorse crept up in your chest.

He could’ve died. And yet you did nothing. You swallowed and retreated your hand, asking yourself if what you shared this night was of pure connection or was it you feeling bad for what you had done?

You closed your eyes the same time Manjiro’s flitted open. In his mind, a question brewed, as well. What he felt when you disappeared was pure, unadulterated fear. But what was it truly? Was it because he had dreaded for your safety or he merely feared losing a valuable pawn to his kingdom?

#stop it im so in love w manjiros stupid ass rn .#HE CAME INSIDE . R WE PREGERGERNAT?????#sobbing #you will hear from me in 3-5 working days #meis.recs<3 #mm mikey <3

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