#Starfall Celebration Reject

[zoranadragonflightrising]

Eclipse Runes

A simple skin featuring an eclipse symbol and a star symbol, glowy feather tips, space wings, and some extra color for the underbelly. The image above has a handful of examples, including a teal version of the base dragon and a dragon with an outfit. Doing preorders of this skin! 900g for each slot. Once the initial preorders are filled and sent out, I'll print more copies on request for 50g and a blueprint. Skin Preview Here!

Preorder Here!

#flight rising #flightrising skin #skincent #arcane flight #starfall celebration #Starfall Celebration Reject #skin preview #flight rising skins #space #runes #flight rising accents #fr art #flight rising tumblr #flightrising #flightrising art #flightrisingskins #flight rising skins and accents

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends: Prologue

a/n: Whlep I told myself that I wouldn’t start a new series but this just came. its a little Poly!feysand x reader. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. I apologize for any mistakes there was minimum editing done to it. Hope y’all enjoy  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:239

I had known that they were my mates since last Starfall. It seemed almost cruel of the mother to give me not only one mate but two. The mating bond should be celebrated, cherished but when it snapped for me last year I could tell that it hadn’t snapped for them. Maybe it would have been easier on me had the two of them already cemented the bond between them or if they weren't the high lord and lady of the night court.  Some days it hurts more to think about the incomplete bond, typically it's on the nights where I can feel intense emotions coming from their end or when I accidently receive memories and images from them. Those are the days where all I want to do is just stay in bed and let the world pass by around me wallowing in the incomplete bond, but I can't do that. I have a shop to run and siblings to take care of. I guess I could count myself as lucky, that I get to see them regularly when they come in for new clothes or if I’m torturing myself every time they come in. In the end I feel like I am grasping at threads and that my ends are unraveling. I don’t know whether to hope that the bond snaps for them or if I should just reject the bond and live with the gaping hole.

#Feysand #feysand x reader #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x reader #rhys x feyre #feyre x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofs #acosf #rhysand x feyre x reader #Unraveled Ends

[xreaderbooks]

Always

Pair: ACOTAR Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 682

Warnings: Angst

Summary: Based on the scene in little women when Laurie tells Amy not to marry Fred. Maybe a part 2, if anyone wants it.

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Part 2

Starfall, the spirits were traveling for their yearly migration, giving everyone in Velaris a reason to celebrate. Azriel was beside you as he always was, every year since this started. The same spot at the balcony the rest of the inner circle somewhere nearby.

Your arms were crossed in front of you, supporting your lean on the railings. One particular star's descent floated slower than all the others. You squinted, brows creasing in confusion. You tapped Azriel’s arm several times to catch his attention, calling his name with each tap, though tapping his arm once would have sufficed.

“Az, Look,” You pointed to the star that was once slowing down, now increased its pace.

“I’m looking love,” He chuckled. You glanced his way and did a double-take, he wasn’t looking at the star. He was looking at you. Not just looking, openly staring down at you.

“No, you aren’t.” You frowned up at him.

His mouth twitched upwards, “You’re right, I’m not.”

His amused smile disappeared and a look you couldn’t decipher appeared, you scanned his features and for the life of you, you wanted- needed to know what the look on his face was for. It was an unmasked version of Azriel that seeped into vulnerability but ultimately gave off strength.

“Y/n,” He spoke softly. You waited with little patience for his next words, he was scaring you. “Y/n, Don’t marry him.”

You searched his eyes for a sign of a joke, you weren’t going to find one. “What?”

He repeated himself, “Don’t marry Eris.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Why?” He took half a step closer, “You know why”

His bright hazel eyes pierced through yours and you were lost, so very lost the feeling overwhelmed you. You didn’t know why this was happening right now. You shook your head in denial, stepping away from him, he tried to step closer. You pressed your hand against his chest to stop him from getting too close, however, there was no point now- you caught a whiff of his scent.

“No, Az-” Tears welled in your eyes, so close to spilling that if you blinked they’d run down your cheeks.

“Yes.”

“No Azriel, this isn’t funny.” You plead with your eyes for him to stop whatever he playing at, you wouldn’t believe him. You trusted Azriel with everything you had in you, in life and death he would honor you but this? This you could not believe. “You were in love with Mor, you were in love with her for centuries, then Elain comes along and you do not- have not left her alone. Matter of fact, I should be grateful you’re even here with me at all.”

He lifted a hand to caress your cheek and you denied him. For the first time in your 535 years of living you had denied him and it killed you to know his meaning and yet it was not fair. You met his gaze once again, suddenly everything clicked in place and you were sure your heart was cracking. Too many emotions bubbled within you, “I can't.” You whispered.

He clutched onto the hand you had on his chest, “Y/n please-”

“No Azriel,” Your voice cracked. The bond pulsed, on stand-by for your next sentence as if asking if you were going to reject it, reject him. “I have been here, while you pined for my sister and Elain, you never wanted me. I will not be the one you settle for because you cannot have her, because a bond tells you to. Not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.”

The tears flowed freely, ruining the makeup Nuala and Cerridwen worked onto your features earlier this evening. You left the balcony in a rush, ignoring the aching that came from the bond.

You didn’t care to turn back and see if Azriel was following you or if anyone had seen what had gone on in yours and Azriel’s usually peaceful area. You simply rushed to your room packing up only what you needed, fleeing the townhouse.

Fleeing from the townhouse with the one thought that ran through your mind, that Azriel was your mate. 

~~~

Part 2

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x azriel #azriel x morrigans sister reader #acotar x reader #acotar imagines #mor acotar #elain archeron

[acourtofthought]

Two Ways of Looking at Bonus POVs

(contains TOG spoilers)

Cassian received a POV - then got the the first book after Feyre's

Chaol received a POV - then got the very next book.

Therefore Az receiving a POV = his book next.

But maybe there's more to it than that.

Cassian's mating bond with Nesta was first hinted at in his POV which took place halfway through ACOMAF:

That first afternoon, he’d looked at her—not at the face and the body that human men marked, but her—and he had seen it all.

Every instinct in his body came roaring to the surface, so violent hehad to choke them with a brutal grip or else he’d fnd himself on his knees, begging her for a touch, for anything.

Cassian breathed in the smell of her into his lungs, stirring his cock as it latched onto some intrinsic part of him and sank its talons deep. Nesta Nesta Nesta

It was not until 1.5 books later (2 if you include the novella) that the Nessian mating bond was accepted in SF.

We were also introduced to the Elucien bond in the same book (though theirs was confirmed) and now we've had 2 .5 books (including the novella) without an acceptance or rejection.

So with these standalone books, it's looking like SJM teases the idea of a bond between two characters then shelves it for a bit, creating a storyline to push them away before the acceptance of their bond. It's not "here's your mate and you get your HEA in the next book". She could have waited to introduce Nessian or Elucien's bonds in ACOWAR but she instead introduced them early on knowing it was going to be years before they actually got together. For Nessian it was almost 2 years from the first hints of their bond to their acceptance and for Elucien it's been over 2 years. Maybe she does that to demonstrate that just because people have a bond, they don't run headfirst into a relationship with one another, they still make the choice to be together.

So what about Chaol? His bonus showed him on a boat headed to the healers and his story immediately picked up with him on the same ship. However, his bonus did not feature Yrene and there were no hints that Yrene was Chaol's mate (humans in TOG didn't have fae bonds). There can be no argument that they only chose one another because of their bond which means SJM didn't need to create the passing of time between them meeting and falling in love since there was no magical force drawing them together, a thing that leads some to doubt the validity of a couples feelings.

Chaol's bonus is not the same as Cassian's or Azriel's or even Lucien's pov when we slipped into his mind:

Cassian’s bonus featured hints to his endgame and ended with Nesta still human -> their book picked up after she'd been turned, fought in a war -> was struggling with her father's death (etc). His book started well after his bonus.

Azriel's bonus featured hints to his endgame and ended the day after Solstice . Since then they celebrated Starfall, the girls were forced into the Rite, Feyre almost died, etc) which means an Az book will not pick up where his bonus left off.

Chaol's bonus did not hint at his endgame and ended with him on a ship. His book picked up with him on that same ship, shortly after his bonus.

Both the Cassian and Azriel bonus chapters happened in the middle of another characters journey in order to introduce the possibility of their bond early on, then SJM redirected us back to the POV of the other character.

If you place the Cassian bonus chapter in chronological order, the hints of his bond with Nesta came before the reveal of the Elucien mating bond which took place at the end of MAF.

We were first introduced to the possibility of the Nessian bond, then the Elucien bond, then the Gwynriel bond.

So far we've had Nessian's story.

If SJM is basing the acceptance of her bonds off when they were introduced because she prefers to allow her pairings time to evolve before accepting the bond then it's possible it's not Bonus = Person who gets the next book but "order of introduction of possible bond" = who gets the next book.

Chaol's extra chapter had nothing to do with Yrene and everything to do with the plot that was immediately following it (he was on a boat headed to another kingdom, and his POV book picked up from there).

Cassian needed a bonus chapter so we could see the hints of his bond, so we could see exactly what he was feeling towards Nesta and the instincts he was having from his own pov. Since Cassian wasn't given a pov within the actual book and SJM wanted us to see that he suspected / felt drawn to her before others noticed it, a bonus chapter was the only way to go about it. However his bonus didn't have much to do with the setup for ACOWAR or even the setup for his own book.

Azriel needed a bonus chapter so we could see the hints of his possible bond with Gwyn. There was no other way for us to be introduced to the way Gwyn made him feel without it since anything else could have only been Nesta or Cassian's perception of it. But just as SJM allowed time to pass between the introduction and acceptance of Nessian's bond, she could be doing the same with Gwynriel. And chances are, we're not going to see Az and Lucien fighting in the Blood Duel or Az fighting for Mor in the Blood Duel so it doesn't seem like his bonus has anything to do with plot either (outside the romance).

Lucien did not need a bonus to have his bond hinted at because it became part of the actual story. He has a confirmed bond with Elain and Feyre slipped into his mind to show us the instincts he was having toward her. A standalone Lucien Bonus Chapter would be redundant at this point because we already know who his mate is. And plenty of time has passed meaning that SJM has been able to demonstrate that Elain hasn't gone running into his arms for the sole fact that they are mates. Elucien ending up together at this point would clearly be a result of choice from getting to know one another in their book and not because of their bond.

(I also believe an Elain Bonus Chapter would be way too spoilery. I don't think we're ever getting one for her).

That's not to say this is SJMs thinking but since an argument can be made for it, I think there is still hope for an Elucien endgame in the next book.

#elucien #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #elucien mating bond #acotar mates #elucien book #acotar 5

[asaxophony]

Starfall celebration rejects

#fr skins and accents #fr skin sales #fr art sales #fr art #starfall celebration #flightrising #fr

[shallyne]

Once Upon A Night Chapter 3 (Finale)

Previous Chapter

Last part of this little series! I know it's very, very fast paced but I don't have the patience not to. I'm sorry! Anyways, enjoy!

Words: 1,639

TW: none

Feyre makes a a decision about her current living situation and Rhys tells her a secret

The first rays of morning sun flitted through the window as Feyre laid in Rhysands arms. They didn't get any sleep that night, they only snuck out from the celebrations not too long ago, when people started to part and fall asleep. Feyre had enjoyed Starfall, it was the most special thing she had ever witnessed in her entire life. With the most special person Feyre had ever met. Feyre knew that only knew Rhys for a short time but the first time she had laid eyes on him something just felt right. He brushed a curl out of her face and Feyre smiled brightly at him, burrowing her face in the crook of his neck. If she could ignore Dawn, then Dawn was simply not there yet.

Rhys tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her closer. His citrus and sea scent enveloped her, inviting her home. "A thought for a thought, Feyre darling?" he asked.

"A thought for a thought?" she mumbled.

"You tell me what you're thinking right now and I'll tell you what I'm thinking in return."

Feyre pulled back and looked at Rhys, getting lost in his eyes. It looked like a thousand stars were shining in them. She could make out genuine curiosity as she looked at Rhys.

It was quiet for a few moments until Feyre put into words what she was afraid to say, to think even. "I don't want to go back."

Rhys kept quiet for so long that Feyre was sure he wouldn't say anything until he broke the heavy silence "Then stay."

First she didn't believe what she heard and huffed a laugh but Rhys stayed serious. "Here?" Feyre asked. Her hand was resting on his arm as he began to smile, bright and without restraint.

"Yes. Here. In Velaris, with us. With me." he said.

Feyre laughed softly. "Really? Are you sure?"

"I'm more than sure, Feyre. Please stay." he said.

She sat up, looking around the room. "I need to write a letter."

Shortly after they found themselves in a cozy study. The smell of worn leather books and ink hung in the room as Feyre turned back to Rhys and pressed the letter in his hands. "Are you sure that someone can deliver it to my family?"

"I'll do it myself if necessary." he replied smiling. Then he looked down at the piece of paper and his expression turned contemplative. "Feyre, before you send the letter, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" she asked.

He exhaled and Feyre took his hands, smiling up at him. "It can't be that bad, right? Just say it."

"You're–" he cleared his throat. "You're my mate."

"Mate?"

Rhys picked invisible lint off his shirt and explained "A mating bond is a very rare bond between two individuals that binds their very beings together. It's like a thread between two souls. The closest concept that mortals have for mates are soulmates."

"Mates." Feyre whispered.

"I am not pressuring you into accepting the bond, Feyre. I want you to decide for yourself if you want that and if you don't, I can live with it. I will find a way to live with it. This–I just thought you should know now because it's important and I don't want you to regret it in the end." he quickly said.

Feyre let out a breath. "You were talking about accepting the bond, does that mean it's possible to reject it?"

"It is." Rhys nodded. "The bond will still be there, the thread between both parts, but you can reject the bond. It's your choice."

Feyre looked out of the window. It was still early morning, dawn had arrived not long ago. The city looked beautiful in the morning, so peaceful as many just went to bed after celebrating the whole night. "And what would happen if I'd decided? How would I accept the bond?"

"There are two ways." Rhys explained, turning the letter in his hands. "One way would be to accept the bond officially, with a priestess overseeing the ceremony. The other would be to offer your mate food, that has something to do with the beasts our ancestors were a long time ago."

"Any food?"

"Any food." he finally looked at her when she got quiet again. They just looked at each other for a long time. Then Feyre's gaze wandered to the letter in his hands.

"I don't know what to say." she replied truthfully. "I'd like you to deliver the letter anyway, if that is alright with you."

Rhys nodded eagerly. "No matter what your decision is, you're welcome here. We will find a way."

"Thank you, Rhys." she said.

He smiled again. "There is a guest room across from mine. Please rest, it's been a long night. I see that your letter will be delivered to your family. If you need something, just call. Nuala and Cerridwen will help you."

"Alright." she said and he vanished. Feyre went to the room he told her about and when she opened the dark wood doors, she found a beautiful, bright room. It was kept in white and beige with sage green accents.

A woman was already in the room and when she turned around, she smiled at Feyre and introduced herself as Nuala. She had already laid out a nightgown and Feyre asked herself how she knew because Rhys was with her the whole time. Feyre shrugged the thought off and thanked Nuala. It didn't take long for Feyre to fall asleep after she finally slipped into bed.

She was awoken by a knock on her door. "Come in." Feyre mumbled as she rubbed her eyes.

"Good morning!" Mor chirped and sat on the edge of her bed. "I heard you are staying with us, that's so exciting!"

"Yes." Feyre smiled. "It is."

Mor smiled brightly at Feyre.

"Mor?"

"Yes?"

Feyre sighed. "Where's the kitchen?"

Mor's eyebrows shot up and then she grinned, "Come on, I'll show you!"

It was afternoon when Mor had led her to the kitchen but by the time Feyre had managed to cook something presentable and got ready herself the sun already began setting. She gripped the plate in her hand as she walked up the stairs, stopping at a door that wasn't fully closed.

When she pushed it open her breath hitched a bit as she saw Rhys leaning over a paper, writing something down. Feyre straightened and walked over to him, putting the plate right in front of him, then sitting down on the chair across his.

Rhys stared at the plate, letting the pen fall out of his hand. Then his gaze wandered to Feyre.

"I'm not a good cook." she said. "It's not a masterpiece but it's definitely edible, I tried it."

His gaze was fixed on Feyre. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. It might be a bit salty but it's not overpowering so I guess it's fine." she smiled. "It was also supposed to be a bit spicy but I don't know what happened because it's not spicy at all."

"No, that's not what I meant." Rhys said. "Though it smells good, so don't worry about that. I mean – we just talked about this a few hours ago, maybe take some time-"

"I don't need to take more time." Feyre said. "I made my decision. I want this, Rhys. I want you."

His eyes were still glued on Feyre, so she stabbed a piece of meat with his fork and extended it towards him. "Eat, Rhys. I promise you, I was never more sure about in my life." she held his gaze to let him feel the truth of his words. He took the fork and asked one last time "Are you really sure?" and when she nodded a final time, he dug into his meal.

Feyre pulled the veil out of her hair, taking another look at it before she put it to the side. It looked like real Starlight was weaved into its fabric, the same with the fabric of her wedding dress.

It was a beautiful day. It's Feyre's five year anniversary in the Night Court and they decided to finally have an official ceremony that Mor had begged them for since they had mated privately.

When she looked up again, Rhys smirked at her like he could hear her thoughts.

"Not yet," she giggled. "The party is still in full swing."

Rhys pulled her closer and whispered in her ear "I'm sure we can slip away for a few moments-"

"Ew, please don't." Mor's voice sounded behind them.

Rhys sighed. "What do you want, cousin?"

She snorted at his tone and said. "You need to go to the temple in the mortal lands, both of you. I'm sure you want to see that."

Impatiently she ushered them up and they winnowed to the Moonstone palace, where they walked through a secret archway and came out at the temple of the mortal realm. The three of them walked down the steps of the temple and just then Feyre realized that Mor was carrying Nox with her. It became tradition for them to include Nox at every event since Feyre had left him here when she was a child. That's how Nox got his own chair in the first row during the ceremony and on a table at the reception.

Feyre smiled at the memory and turned around, looking at the empty dais. The once empty dais, because now Feyre looked at a statue of herself, standing right beside the statue of Rhys. A similar crown of stars resting on her head as it did on Rhys's.

She looked like a goddess of Night.

"You are-" Rhys said beside her, squeezing her hand. "-the goddess of Night. You were always meant to be at my side."

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #acotar fan fiction #Acotar fanfic #acotar fic #feyre archeron #feyre #feyre cursebreaker #high lady of the night court #high lady feyre #feyre darling #rhysand #rhys #rhys acotar #high lord rhysand #rhysand archeron #high lord of the night court #feysand #feysand fanfiction #feysand fan fiction #Feysand fanfic #feysand fic #feysand fluff

[fictionadventurer]

For the WIP list ask: I'm curious about "Letters from Exile" and "King Thrushbeard"?

Letters from Exile was the story that I intended to write for the Inklings Challenge. It was told in epistolary format, as a series of letters between a princess who had fled to our world when her family's fantastical kingdom fell to invaders, and the betrothed she left behind. I was going to use it to explore the problem of maintaining hope in a situation when you're not in a position to solve any of the problems--fighting against despair during the long struggle. There was also going to be a lot of fun in exploring their reactions to our world, seeing some of the family relationships, getting to see some pieces of their world, (and celebrating the wondrous power of good food). It was also a terrible idea--a story meant to get me back into the swing of writing fiction should not have the added hurdle of trying to tell it in an abnormal format, so there was no realistic way I was going to finish this in time. However, there's a lot that I still like about the story, and I've since come up with some ways to scale it back to the simpler story that first drew me to the idea, so there's potential that I could actually finish it someday.

King Thrushbeard is a fairy tale that's always held a lot of interest for me. It's such a toxic dynamic, but there's such drama in the setup that it could make a very interesting story with a few tweaks. I've long had an idea for a retelling where the princess character rejects a very nice, shy young man, and the Thrushbeard character is this man's brother, who takes elaborate revenge upon this woman and tries to utterly humiliate her before he realizes her underlying humanity (and the fact that he might be falling in love with her). I recently had the idea to recast this idea in my Starfall universe, because theaters feature very prominently in that setting, and it makes sense for Thrushbeard to be an actor--because it gives him the outsized sense of drama that would lead him to consider such ridiculous revenge, and give him the acting skills to pull it off. The princess character could be a diva actress, or she could be the daughter of a wealthy Starfall family. However it works out, this setting could be the ideal way to finally turn this long-lived plot bunny into an actual story.

#adventures in writing #answered asks #maltheniel #king thrushbeard #adventures in the inklings challenge #starfall

[zeciex]

Cruel Is His Love

pairing; Seokjin/OC

genre; fantasy, love/hate, fae!Seokjin, smut, mild angst words; 6,870 rating; explicit

— synopsis; Seokjin is the crown prince of the winter court, a court known for its cruelty and stone cold grip on emotions. Every 50 years the winter court and summer court gathers to a celebration of the treaty and the night of the Starfall. And this time things go a little differently, when the crown princess of summer, Athea, decides to play a new sort of game with the crown prince.

contents; creampie, rough sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, 

The throne room of the winter court was unusually cold. It was carved into the mountain, towering above the world with an icy glare ordained with a crown of ice and snow. Icicles grew from the ceiling in deadly spikes, some clear, some crystal white and others various shades of blue. Columns shot from the stone floor and disappeared into the icy sky, only a faint hint of arches visible if you looked close enough.

The room was decorated with sculptures of ice, with pale flowy fabrics that moved in the wind, with flowers of cold and snow. And between all the colours that belonged to The Winter Court were the brightness of The Summer Court, with all their colourful fabrics.

The two courts would not usually intertwine, the feigned friendliness a byproduct of the truce between the two that was agreed upon thousands of years ago. The truce, however, never meant the two courts had to like one another or give up the disdain towards the other. What it did mean was the gathering at one of the courts once every 50 years upon the night of Starfall.

Seokjin sat on his throne beside his father's, his smaller but no less beautiful and no less frightening. It was made of iron and ice, it was cold and sharp and vicious just like the ones who sit upon them. All in all, Seokjin was his father's son, but where his father was sharp Seokjin was soft.

With boredom the crown prince glanced around the room, eyes ghosting over the arrival of nobles who were presented before the throne with bows and appraisals. Even though he had never experienced the war, the fragile and faux peace made him long for it. At least then something exciting would happen.

The room hushed, nobles of The Winter Court parting for the bright colours of The Summer Court, eyes following the king, his queen and the one Seokjin wanted to see the least - the one he wanted to see the most- the crown princess in all her glory. She was breathtakingly beautiful with hair of obsidian, skin of/like? ebony with the faintest warm glow beneath, eyes of deep emerald and a soft smile that was lethal. Princess Athea took the room as Seokjin took the room? She drew eyes towards her and kept them.

Seokjin remained cold as ice, just as The Winter Court was famous for. A restraint on emotions so tight other fae were unsure if they even felt. A mask of ice and stone.

The king of Summer bowed for the king of Winter as customary, followed by his queen who bowed even lower, and then the princess who’s golden crown caught the light of the candles and shone like the sun of summer. She smiled at the king.

“You grow evermore beautiful Princess Athea,” his father spoke with cold precision.

“Thank you Your Majesty,” Athea voiced warmly, a smile that could very well be a smirk upon her red lips. “And your lands grow evermore cold, I fear I shall need to wear fur the next time I will come.”

A soft tinge of laughter ran through the room, the nobels eating up her words as if they were sugared fruits. It was a lie or as close to a lie as fae could come. The Winter Court grew neither warmer or colder.

And then her eyes slit to him, and that strained clutching of his heart overcame him once more. Vines of thrones wrapped around it grew from his heart and out into his body. She knew, of course, she knew. Oh, how he hated her.

Athea followed her father to the side of the summer court, a clear divide spit down through it, with one side of winter in their cold colours of grey, blue, white and black, ordained with silver and iron, and the summer side with reds, greens, purples and yellow, ordained by gold and flowers.

The king of ice stood from his throne, demanding the attention of all fae and creatures in the room. “It has been two millennia since the war, since the signing of the treaty. Two millennia of peace.” He spoke with adamant. The king of ice was never one for speeches, never one for celebrations. He was a man like his title, a man of ice so cold it never melted. “Let the celebrations begin!”

Music poured into the room, filling every gap, travelling up the columns and settled between the spikes of ice. The two divided sides slowly began to mingle, colours and lack there off swirling together into a beautiful painting.

And there, in the middle of the dance floor, was the princess summer in a dress so crimson it stood out from all other colours. Athea danced with all that bid her to it, with her father the king, with the sons of generals, with lords and counts. But even though she danced with promising men, her eyes always flickered to him and his subconsciously always sought out hers, whether he meant to or not. Always content with sharing a contempt filled glare with her. It was madness.

Seokjin clenched his jaw. He could almost feel her warmth, her touch and it drove him mad. Every Starfall since the first time the both of them were allowed to attend, he felt his heart drum faster when he saw her, stronger, -no, not stronger, more fragile. And every time they’d play this game of chased glances, of clashes between eyes, of words that were never what they were said to be.

Namjoon arrived by Seokjin’s side with a glass of dark liquid that the prince took without question, letting the bitter liquid linger on his tongue in an attempt to rid it of the poisonous words that lingered there.

“You’d think they’d wear more clothe when coming to the lands of winter,” Namjoon remarked quietly enough for only Seokjin to hear. Fae was easy to piss off, on both sides.

“You say that every Starfall when they come here,” Seokjin noted to his friend and advisor. “We wear just as light clothing as they do.”

“ We are accustomed to the temperature, they are not.”

“Is that why you decided to swim in the lake of sapphire last Starfall?” Seokjin commented with cold amusement, which was the most emotion he’d allow himself to show. Namjoon took a swing of wine, scratching his neck in mild embarrassment. “You were sweating like a pig getting roasted.”

“It was warm and the mermaids were very persuasive,” Namjoon countered.

“And you were drunk.”

“And I was drunk,” Namjoon shamefully agreed. It had been a mess that took 12 years to overcome. For 12 years Namjoon had not been allowed to speak in court, which was by far the most damning punishment when he was Seokjin's advisor. Seokjin had not been pleased and the king even less.

His eyes fell to the twirl of red and glint of gold, where his Crown Princes’ eyes had never left. “She has a long line of suitors,” Namjoon noted. “The Jeon boy seemed the biggest competition, being the son of the general and advisor.”

“The princess would eat him alive,” Seokjin remarked bitterly, taking another mouthful of wine.

“Hmm… They seem like equals, perfect for each other,” Namjoon mused unknowing how much it made Seokjin want to throw the glass at him and let it shatter into bloody tears of his golden skin. Instead, Seokjin buried the feeling in ice, hiding it deep within the frozen solid lake hidden inside of him.

If they were perfect for each other, then Seokjin wouldn't feel as if his heart were held within a firm, burning clutch. If they were perfect for each other, Seokjin wouldn’t feel as if his veins were burning. He wished they were perfect for each other, then it wouldn’t mean him feeling as if the sun itself were lit within his being. He hated it. He longed for the days of emptiness. No, Seokjin thought, she’d eat him up alive.

“The king should propose she’d wed a child of the winter court,” Namjoon continued to muse. Seokjin's eyes shot to him with dangerous precision, sharp as a blade and ready to cut. He took a step back and bowed his head in submission. “Ah, I said that loudly. I apologize, my prince.”

“You know very well such a proposition could bring war, the peace is already fragile as it is if they think we’d try and meddle in their affairs…” Seokjin let the words hang in the air, twisting into shapes of death and destruction. The courts should be kept separate, never to interfere with the politics of the other courts, never to be entwined more than necessary. If they were to marry a child of winter into the summer court, to the future queen no less, it would be seen as interference, as an attempt to overtake the other court.

As much as he longed for war, peace was much better for his people.

“A moment of insanity, my prince,” Namjoon reassured.

“Make sure you keep that ‘insanity’ of yours in check,” Seokjin cut with his voice.

Then red and gold caught his attention, followed by a bright smile that was almost a smirk, almost cutting. Princess Athea strolled towards the prince, her dress dancing in the wind, golden shimmer around her eyes catching the light. She stood before him, inclining her head in greeting, before looking up with mischievous eyes. Always so mischievous. She was a fox and everyone else were hens.

“I believe you promised me a dance since our first Starfall,” She said, her voice a melody more beautiful than any other melody he had ever heard. He hated that voice. He hated those lips of delicious poison. Hated those eyes of sly cunning. “I fear if you reject me once more, I’ll have to take it as an insult.”

“We can’t have that,” Seokjin said sternly, face showing no emotion, nothing of the turmoil hiding beneath his skin. He stood and took her hand, leading her towards the middle of the dance floor, nobels parting for them.

Athea twirled around the dance floor, her dress blooming around her like a rose in spring, then ended the twirl in Seokjin’s arms, so unbelievably close. Now, for the first time, she smirked up at his mask of stone, lips sharp as any blade, poised and poisonous. She smelled of summer, of green grass and summer rains, of blossoming flowers and the very sun. It filled his nostrils until he wanted to wretch.

The music flowed through them in a pulsating rhythm, beckoning them to move with it’s luring sound, they were puppets to it. Athea’s eyes remained on Seokjin whose eyes were fixed out into the room with adamance, which in turn only sharpened Athea’s smirk.

Still, he saw her before him, her face edge into memory.

She knew exactly how to wield her blade, how to draw blood and where to hit to make it the most painful. Palm against palm, heat met cold, the touch travelling up his arms and into his chest. He could feel his heart thaw, the ice around it melting at her presence and he hated it. He hated her.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asked in a low hush, voice like velvet, more alluring and sensual than the music that commanded their movements.

Of course, he did.

The king of winter and his queen of ice had bowed in greeting to the king of summer and he had followed behind, a composure of ice and stone, perfectly sculpted with a beauty that commanded appraise as well as fear. He had bowed before the king and when he had looked up she stood beside the wooden throne of thorns and flowers.

It had hit him them, like lightning splitting the sky in two and cleaving into him. For the first time in centuries, his composure slipped, the ice cracking open to reveal a glimpse of what was beneath. He has stared at her, the world around him coming to a complete standstill.

And she had smiled at him in the softest of ways, fingers playing with a torned blossom of the throne. She had been beauty as he had never seen it.

“This is my daughter, the crown princess of summer, the future queen of this court, Athea of sun and sky,” The king introduced. The princess went forward, her aquamarine dress flowing with each step. She bowed, dipping her head, while her eyes of emerald never left his.

“Crown princess,” Seokjin greeted, catching his composure and modelling it into ice once more. His chest tightened as he swallowed his emotions, emotions that threatened to spill out into the court, demanding blood and war.

“Prince Seokjin,” She murmured back, his name on her lips sounding with a terrible absolution. “We are to be friends, are we not?”

“We are,” Seokjin drawled, unsure of what to make of it all. The court silently watched as the two future rulers met for the first time, expectant and uneasy.

“Then we should not get stuck on such things as titles.”

“Of course, Crown princess,” he said, nodding to her one last time before following his parents to the sidelines. He could feel her eyes on him, feel them burn into his skin and claw at his insides. It felt exhilarating and nauseating. He wanted to disappear into the night, seek isolation until he could get the fire under control.

He decided then that he hated her for making him feel this way and hated her even more for wishing she’d speak his name just once more.

“Yes,” Seokjin spoke crudely.

“Good, because I remember it clearly,” she began, voice a purr. “I remember the prince of ice and stone standing in front of the throne of thorns and blossoms, standing there with cold radiating off of his skin, his face so sharp and beautiful, eyes darker than the night skies. And I remember him disappearing into the night when no one was looking.”

Seokjin swallowed at her words, his heart straining in his chest, heat trickling up the skin of his neck uncomfortably. Even without words he knew what she meant, knew that she had seen him hidden in the shadows of the inner court garden, between huge trunks of trees, bushes and flowers.

She knew everything.

“You know what it means but you will not admit it,” she continued. “Not even to yourself.”

Seokjin remain silent, knowing that the words she wanted him to admit would mean the death of entier bloodlines. What she wanted was to dance with words until one of them would fall upon a sword, and Seokjin was the most likely to fall. But her voice grated at his resolution, tugged at his seams until his being was at risk of falling apart. He couldn’t have that, especially not in front of faerie court.

“Stop,” he warned, only to receive a sly innocent look from the princess, smile widening. He knew he had made a mistake. “Why, after all this time, did you decide to dance with me now?”

“Oh, my darling,” she spoke again with a purr. “Maybe because I simply couldn’t wait any longer.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either.

The knife twisted in his heart. The prince twirled her around, the onlookers gasping at the sudden change in dance. The music fell to a low sensual hum, beckoning the movements to become slow and almost tangible. Her body moved closer to his, chest meeting chest, as the danced. And as suddenly it had begun, time had coiled in the sensual music, and it was over.

The princess bowed to him, turned and swayed away to the next fae in line for a dance. Jungkook took her in his arms and began swaying her, while Seokjin remained frozen to the spot, hands shaking at his side, as a painful fire clawed at his chest and throat, tying to will its way out of him.

It wasn’t until the world started to properly move around him again before he removed himself from the dance floor, stalking back towards the throne, while he wished for his room. With a bitter and sour taste in his mouth, he dumped down, leaning back into the throne while the air coiled around him in cold palpable anger. His eyes remained fixed on the red dress, on those emerald eyes that haunted his dreams, eyes he wished to banish out of his thoughts.

Seokjin sat there and watch her, watched her spin, watched her twirl and lift and dip. He watched her until the doors to the balconies were pushed open for fae to go out and see the stars shoot across the sky. Until there was nothing left in the world than him and her.

Then he got up and left.

Nobody stopped him, not that they’d be able to anyway. Like the times before he slipped into the shadows, each step from the throne room tightening the thorny vines that were clutching his heart. They tore at him. He was burning up inside, every muscle tight and strained, every breath laboured. Sweat trickled down his back. Sweat. Breathlessly he entered his room, leaning against the cool wooden door for a moment with his eyes closed, trying to control the heat that ravaged him.

For each Starfall that passed, the vines around his heart grew tighter, they tugged at him, whispering him to follow them. In the times between Starfall, he could almost forget the feeling, almost ignore it . The pain would lessen only for it to come on back with great enough force it could split the everlasting glacier in two.

Seokjin dragged himself to the foot of the bed, where he dumped down on the silk sheets with a heavy sigh, lying back and running his hands through his hair.

“Have you ever thought about me when you’re all alone?” Her voice was a whisper that travelled through the wind, slithering over his body with a cold touch. Seokjin froze in place, then sat up to watch Athea saunter in with that sway in her hips, moving swiftly like water. The red dress had been replaced with an ivory robe that dipped dangerously low, revealing the fine glow of her dark skin. His hands fisted in the sheets. “Like you did that night in the shadows?”

Athea crooked a brow at his silence, the bemusement never lessening in her eyes. “I’ve thought about you on nights like these.” Her fingers travelled the expanse of her collarbones sliding her robe over the edge and letting it fall to her feet. The cold light of the moon was cast in through wide-open windows. It gave her skin a haunting beauty. Seokjin tensed, eyes fixed on her face which only sharpened her smirk. Slowly she stalked towards him. “I’ve thought about your hands and wondered if your fingers were as agile as when you do swordplay. I’ve thought about that mouth of yours, those pretty pretty lips. And I’ve thought about the sounds you’d make breaking through those lips and past your mask of ice.”

Humans think the winter court to be the cruelest of them all, but it is the summer court that holds that feat, for they glace their weapons in poison, they whisper sweet nothings that’ll cut you far deeper than you’d ever imagine. Their cruelty were not one that showed outright, it was hidden behind sweet smiles and venomous words.

The fae was rotten folk, it was true, but she was the most rotten of all.

And he’d gladly take a bite of that rotten fruit.

Athea straddled his hips, fingers running over his broad shoulders, feeling the fabric and what it held beneath. Her hair curled around her shoulders, so dark it seemed impossible, while her eyes shined that green of emerald; of trees after a summer shower, of meadows and pine. And she smelled exactly the same. It was intoxicating. A scent he knew would forever be branded in his mind.

“Did you ever think about me?” She murmured a nail tickling over the delicate skin of his neck, threatening to bite into it with breaking and tearing force.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“You know why.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“Yes.”

Her smile broadened, teeth white pearls that could tear into flesh if she so desired. The snowflower was famed for its beauty and rarity, but it was deadly enough to kill with one single prick of its’ needle-like thrones, that was what she reminded him off. And he’d freely prick himself on her thorns.

For a daring moment, he couldn’t decide which taste he was more curious of—her lips or what lies between her thighs. He cursed himself silently for the indecent thought, chalking it up to the mental exhaustion of playing these mind games with her.

“Say it,” she beckoned, fingers slipping beneath his shirt to feel his cold, smooth skin. The thorns tore into his heart, he could feel it, and it left him entirely at her mercy. She was so close her heat wrapped around him, burned at his skin -no, not burned, kissed it.

Seokjin had always been armed with beauty and ice, and she was armed with the very thing that left him entirely defenceless.

“Mate,” he breathed, eyes fluttering at her touch. “You’re my mate.”

And just like that, he would have thrown it all away, the throne, the crown, the whole world, to be only that. If anyone found out war would break out. That was the very reason he adopted the mask of stone, the reason his heart had become frozen solid, the reason he had done so much to keep away.

It was all rendered useless.

They breathed each other in before letting their lips meet, her arms wrapped around his neck, her nails scraping over the fine, muscled skin of his back. Her lips were everything he imagined, and yet, nothing like it. It was a slow kiss, one that slowly consumed you until there was nothing left on your mind, nothing but the feeling. With great urgency her tongue moved into his mouth, her teeth nibbling at his plumb lower lips. She tasted of the forbidden fruit, the one that grew golden on the Milkwood trees, fruit that brought humans such euphoria they’d sell their souls for one single bite more.

With that kiss his soul was hers.

Filth filled Seokjin’s mind and swelled between his honourable legs as if he weren’t hard enough even before she entered his rooms. The way she kissed him was taunting, with a biting smirk forever plastered on her lips, while his sought hers in need. His heart thundered within the cage of his chest.

“So did you?” She mused, releasing her lips from his.

“Did I what?” Seokjin breathed, eyes burning into hers.

“Did you think of me?” She asked sweetly, cruelly. One hand wandered down his breeches to grip him firmly. Seokjin let out a sound, something caught in between a groan and a moan.

“By the crown, yes!”

Now his cool hands dug into the soft flesh of her thighs, nails turning into angry talons, puncturing into her skin with ferocity. She keened, biting back a laugh as she pumped up and down his shaft with a bewitching touch that brought as much pain as it did pleasure. She was lust and cruelty and all things rotten, -and he couldn’t get enough.

They were two beings wishing to tear each other apart for pleasure.

“ Tell me ,” She drawled. Seokjin went for her neck, lips and teeth lapping over the skin equally given. He bucked up into her hand, holding a moan hostage in the back of his throat.

“I thought about your hands and what they’re doing to me now,” the prince began, continuing his attack on her neck, while his nails scraped over dark skin to leave even darker marks. Athea twisted her hand as it rose to the tip sending a jolt of pleasure up through his body. “I thought about how, -uh, nimble and firm they’d work me, and how much better your mouth would be.”

Athea’s hand twisted into Seokjin’s silvery locks to force his head back with a stinging force that brought a hiss from his throat. His lips had become glossy with saliva and red with blood rushing to the surface, and his eyes, those onyx eyes with pupils so blown there were nothing left of the brush of silver in them. The veins on his neck protruded, adrenalin and fire and ice, coursing through them. He soaked in the sight of her cruel, green eyes and vicious, bloodcurdling smile.

She licked the expanse of his neck, a rumble travelling from deep within his chest and up his throat, ending in a growl, as she bit into it with brutal delight.

Ice shot out through his veins and bit into him. He flipped them over so that she was on her back, a wicked laugh settling into the room and making a home of the shadows. There, beneath him, bathed in moonlight and naked as the day she was brought into the world, she looked entirely otherworldly. “I wondered if you’d taste sweet as nectar or bitter as your wicked, merciless heart.”

For a moment a childish wonder passed over her features, eyes rolling in thought rather than pleasure, wondering what she herself tasted like. And at that moment, his heart fluttered, forgetting the ruthlessness Athea was made of. She lifted her hips to his, slithering beneath him like a snake, the childish wonder gone and replaced with mischief.

Without a word he dived down between her legs, deciding that he could be as ruthless as she. She smelled sweet and tasted sweeter. Golden apples, Moon berries, sugar grass and all other faerie foods couldn’t compare to the taste. His tongue passed over her warm folds, separating her them as he did so. He lapped at her cunt like a man starved.

Athea purred like a cat, lifting herself up on her elbows to enjoy the sight of the prince of winter caught between her thighs, tongue darting out to press itself against her clit in the most sinful manner, pouring fire and starlight into her veins. The sound of her breathy moans made him want more. He moved with feverish intent, forcing his tongue inside of her, before returning to her clit, twirling and sucking until her thighs were shaking until his name was stuck in her mouth to be said over and over, -sounding like a curse.

Seokjin squeezed her hips, circling her sensitive mount, sucking on it ruthlessly, revelling in her taste, her warmth, her sounds, everything her. By the crown he hated her and he was going to make her pay the most delicious of ways.

Two fingers slid into her with ease, sinking all the way in to the knuckle where he felt her tense around him, body begging for more. He bit her thigh until he was sure to leave a mark, curled his finger to find the spot that made her moans catch in her throat and eyes roll back in her head.

She was close he could feel it in how wet she had become, fingers tugging at his hair in demand for friction, her hips nearly lifted off of the mattress as he suddenly removed himself from her.

Athea exhaled in annoyance at his play, eyes burning with desire, wildfire spreading through them. Her sharp nails dug into his shirt and pulled his slick lips filled with her juices to her own with such force it tore at the fabric of it.

Seokjin was forced to his back, the princess taking the reins with violence, tearing the rest of his shirt off in one rough motion. Sunkissed skin was made pale in the moonlight, shadows cast over his collarbones, sculpting his body even further. The fine skin stood to ruin, the promise was clear in the way her nails raked down his body as she trapped his cock between her wet folds and his stomach.

“I see I’m not the only one who’s cruel,” she purred taunting. As she moved her hand came to clasp his jaw, sharpened nails digging into his skin. “Beneath that icy exterior, there’s that mercilessness. I see it.”

Seokjin could barely think straight when she sank onto him ever so slowly. She took him in as if she had been made solely for him. She had. She was his mate. A bond so deep it could tear the world apart. If she had been anyone else than the crown princess, -if he had been anyone else than the crown prince-, then nothing would have kept them from tearing each other apart in the venture of love.  

Athea panted, biting her plumb lip while her head rolled back revelling in the feeling of him filling her up so good. The stretch was mouthwatering.

“I-I’ve thought about this,” Seokjin continued meeting her rhythm with his own, the lewd sound of flesh hitting flesh filling his ears, the sound of him sinking into her warm centre. “Thought of how tight you’d be, how -ugh, fucking incredible you’d feel. Fuck. ”

His hands took their fill of her breasts, playing with her nipples and loving the way her face fell into a sense of pleasure.

Abruptly, he sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist and biting down on her shoulder, lips chasting the wounded area, following the column of her neck until they met her parted lips. The speed picked up, his arm that was wrapped around her, helping to steady her as he thrust up into her. The kiss was feverish, filled with lust and nothing else. Nails raked over his shoulders, drawing along long red marks that’d last a day at the very least, even with fae healing.

“Fuck,” he moaned, head filled with the image of her riding him, those green eyes half-lidded shining in the dark.  

“More,” she simply demanded, letting Seokjin roll her onto her back, bringing her legs around him so that her heels dug into his rear. This way he could dive deeper in, this way he could snap his hips to hers with brutal, bruising intent. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the headboard with one arm.

“You’re hateful, you know that?” His voice was raspy and strained. She smirked up at him. Curse that smirk, curse her influence, curse her. Those lips were a sirens call. Taunting and begging, all at the same time.

“More.” The growl that came from her reverberated down his spine and made him snap his hips to hers in a violent thrust that promised the beginning of a faster and rougher pace. Seokjin grabbed one of the pillows and forced it under her hips, propping her up on it to give him better access. Then he threw her one leg over his shoulder.

“You’re a hateful, cunning, cruel creature,” he grunted, thrusting with every title he gave her to drive the point across and each thrust drew a moan from her lips, made her eyes roll, her cunt grip him so hard he was unsure she’d ever let him go again. “You make poisoned words be a salvation. You taunt me -ugh, you haunt me, you mock and torment me with such wicked delight. I hate you.”

“You hate me?” She chuckled with ridicule. “We may not be able to lie but you’re still able to do so to yourself.”

“I hate you,” Seokjin hissed with indignation.

“Hmm,” Athea croon. “And you do it so well.”

Her cunt clenched around him, the feeling pulsating throughout her and into him. Air got caught in his lungs, hips snapping riggedly to hers as he brought the both of them over the edge, the world shifting around them, shrinking and somehow expanding at the same time. Bliss poured into them, hot and cold mixed together with sweat and seed.

The vines around his heart ripped it to pieces and then grew anew, this time beating warmly, pumping poison out into his body. Seokjin fell to the mattress beside her out of breath. Fingers drew circles over the skin of his stomach and up to the red claw marks that stood as proof of their transgressions, where they traced over the lines with soft caresses that almost let him delve into the sense of affection.

“You were pristine,” she murmured. “All that rage and hatred for me… So pent up and ready to explode.”

Seokjin remained silent in the face of her taunts. It had been a mistake, a glorious mistake that he’d make over and over again. They fucked on every surface of the room, up the walls, on his desk, on the floor and the small bench opposite his bed. The room had become a mess of scattered papers, books thrown to the floor in the heat of the moment, ink seeping into the rug of the finest silks.

Then they settled themselves into a warm pool of water. Each step into it was a caress of ease until their bodies were wrapped in its warm embrace. There they could scrub themselves clean of the nights' infractions. Seokjin observed the princess as she cleaned herself. Water beaded on her skin, shining like ice crystals in the soft glow of the frozen dawn. Behind her the sky turned bright pink, brushes of violet and gold painted across it. Only a few streaks of sunlight made it over the crowned top of the mountains.

“Would you love me if we were not bound by our responsibilities?” He asked, breaking the silence for the first time with a question rather than filthy words.

“You’re my mate, aren’t you?”

“That doesn't answer the question.” Being mates doesn’t change who you are as a being. Mating is a bond between souls and if one were to tear the other apart with that love, then there’d be nothing to do to stop them. Love was a myth, a fairytale. Love, like all things, could be ever so terrible.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” Athea answered him, her eyes thoughtful as if she were truly wondering about it. “I can’t say if my love would change if we were not the faerie we are. Would taking away the powers of the crown change us or would we remain the same?”

The princess dropped the sponge in the water, letting the bubbles glide down her dark skin, gleaming like pearls caught in the golden light of dawn. Seokjin captured her in his mind, every sway of her body, every swell and curve, letting silence fall between them once again. He wasn’t sure what to say because she was not wrong, even without the crown he’d still be who he is, a fae of ice and stone, he’d still long for her.

“Love, hate, pain and pleasure, together they make the most delicious of drug, don’t you think?”

“Why now?” He couldn’t stop the question coming out.

Athea’s lips curled, looking up through her eyelashes with those eyes that bore into his being. “Because I wanted to play a new sort of game.” At his quiet expression, she warmed, gliding through the water with grace until she stood before him, warm hand cubing his cheek in a gentle caress that was all too affectionate. That was maybe the cruellest thing of all.

“You’d play with me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I’d play your game as long as you want me to,” Seokjin admitted and knew how heavy the truth weighed on those words. If she wanted he’d give her everything.  She smiled at him, genuine and terrible all the same, and kissed him so sweetly it made him forget who she was.

“I love you, Seokjin, but I cannot love you,” she voiced, eyes seeking understanding.

Seokjin smiled at her softly, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing her body to his, letting her warmth envelop him. Now she smelled of lavender, of sunlight and saltwater. “I know.”

They kissed slow and tantalizing, lingered on each other's lips, breathing the other in. Then Athea pushed away, one hand on his firm chest. Their eyes never left the other while she stepped out of the water, swaying over the floor and wrapping herself in her robe. And like that, with the first frozen rays of the sun peaking over the crowned mountaintops, she winnowed away.

Seokjin disappeared under the surface of the water and only when he breached it once more, was he ready to exist and ready himself for the day to come, and only would he leave the room when he was dressed in a shirt as white as winter’s kiss, loose and airy. He had covered the marks on his neck and collarbones with fine powers, hiding the nights' venture in an attempt to avoid questions from one particular fae -Namjoon.

“You disappeared from the revel,” Namjoon commented, taking great strides to walk beside his prince. His remained in tossels but that was the only sign of his night of endeavours, the rest of him remained pristine and proper, he was a courtier of importance after all.

“Yes, I did,” Seokjin replied unfazed. “Like I usually do.”

“Too bad,” Namjoon responded. “You had a long line of girls waiting for a dance with their prince, hoping to capture his attention.”

“And I’m sure you were there to pick up the pieces.”

They entered the throne room to the bows of their people, most looking appropriate for court, while a few remained shrivelled from the night's festivities. Appearance was far too important to let daylight reveal anything but perfection, especially when it was just one night. They stepped up on the dais, Namjoon falling behind Seokjin as he approached the throne. It was only when the king entered everyone once more rose and bowed, and with the dismissive wave of his hand, the court fell into normalcy again.

And then they came in, with their bright colours and airy clothe, with their skin so many beautiful shades and hair ordained with flowers and gold. And there she was, with a dress of pure, winter white, embroidered with forbidden fruit and red mistletoe, between the embroidering red drops of rubies. He felt the vines of his heart twist, fluttering of wings basking against his chest.

“We thank you, King Jeong Hui, for the amazing festivities you’ve held for this years Starfall,” The king of summer court boomed with greatness. “I will take this moment as a chance to invite You and your court to a wedding of great promise.”

Seokjin felt his heart strain and fall, all warmth she had given him seeping out as if he had fallen through ice. His eyes went to her, seeking some sort of comfort where there were none to be given. Instead, he realised this was the new game she wanted and still, still he wouldn’t believe his fears.

“The crown princess of summer, my daughter, Athea,” The king of summer motioned towards Athea, her stepping forward to the world to see, a smile spreading on her lips to the uproar of applause, almost sharp, almost… “And the noble general, Jeon Jungkook.” The boy with a sweet smile and shining eyes stepped up beside the she-wolf, a white rabbit beside the predator who’d undoubtedly eat him right up. Or maybe, he was as vicious behind that smile as she was, almost as vicious. “He will take the title Prince Consort beside the future queen of summer.”

Ice poured into his veins, freezing them over instantly, the cold spreading from his limbs and rising painfully to his heart, where the throned vines froze with it so completely it was far more solid than stone. His heart had gone from ice to thawed to made of throned vines and now it had returned back to ice, just far colder. The spiked silver crown weighed down on his head, he was concerned he’d break his neck wearing it. He closed his eyes momentarily, when the Jungkook boy entwined his fingers with hers, kissing the back of her hand before rising them above his head in celebratory victory. He let the pain swallow him, let him drown in its waters.

And then he resurfaced, with a heart unable to love or care for anyone…. -anyone but her. Because he still loved her and he absolutely hated her for it.  He hated that it was her. Hated those enticing emerald eyes, hated that sharp smirk that cut right through him, hated her burning touch he longed after and most of all hated that he would let her break his heart over and over again until there was nothing left.

He was armed with beauty and ice, and she was armed with the very thing that left him defenceless. When she smiled at him in all the glory she held over him, he knew he’d forgive her all over again.

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