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starlit-dreaming · 9 months

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ITBOMM Extras/Drafts + Announcement

Fandom: WMMAP Rating: G Ship: Eventual Lucathy, Felily, Calena, and more Note: the Twin Sibling AU that i tried so hard not to write, but i DID, so naturally i have to call myself out for writing it. will be cross-posted on ao3 and wattpad under the same title

A/N: oof this chapter kinda ran outta my hands and went from 4k to 5k+ lmao i also sort of just glossed over some details, but i’ll eventually go a little more in-depth at a later time

Arc 1: Beginning of the End 0 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Arc 2: Of Princes and Villainesses 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21

Side Story: maybe, i’m afraid (verena/athanasios) 1 | 2

[Extras/Rewrite Announcement]

A/N:

Long time since my last update, and I will apologize for that since I didn't expect it to have been that long since then lmao

I've been rewriting ITBOMM!!!!!!

The reason for this is because there's a lot of scenes that I wanted to write, and a lot of storybuilding that I didn't have back then that I do now. There's a lot of interactions that I never got to write out prior to the timeskips, and there's a lot of relationships I'd like to better establish instead of just tossing everyone into the scenes in one chapter.

I'll be posting the rewrite under a new story as "re: in the back of my mind" and I'll be changing the title of this fic to ITBOMM. I'll be posting extra scenes, my outline, etc here, and mark it as complete.

CW: There is a scene where someone commits suicide. For those who wish to avoid it, I will be marking it as *** and ending the scene with the same marking. It isn't explicit and detailed, but I will still be marking it.

————————————————————

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear — or so the saying goes. He didn’t expect Odysseus to actually start attending their music lessons together, but he supposes that it doesn’t actually matter in the end. It should be a blessing in disguise, since it meant he could get to know the kid and regain some memories.

Should be, in theory.

Rather, what matters is how awkward Athanase feels when it comes to hanging out with a future anti-monarchy revolutionary leader, since his mother had stepped out of the room for several minutes. If you don’t see the issue with this, then allow me to paint the problem:

They were alone together. A member of the monarch’s family, and a future anti-monarch revolutionary.

“What did Your Highness say to make Lady Durk cry?” Odysseus had asked after a short while of silence. He seemed curious, despite his blank stare and monotone voice. Maybe he was just as bored as Athanase is, since they were both reading music scores and doing nothing but reviewing what they had just gone over while Countess Nightingale was out discussing something with Felix.

It was naïve of Athanase to think that nobody would’ve found out about Autumn. Felix was one thing, but if anyone else saw her crying, they’d think he was turning out to be more like his father, maybe. They knew Felix would keep his mouth shut, but if it were anyone else who saw her cry, word would spread like fire. For both of their sakes, he hoped she got away without being seen, but apparently not.

Still… it could’ve been worse. Odysseus was asking in a one on one conversation, without anyone else. Countess Nightingale didn’t seem like a blabbermouth, and the maids value their own life to gossip about the Imperial Prince’s playmate with other nobles around.

So that limited the amount of people who saw. Maybe Irene saw the crying and decided to get her brother to pry into the matter? It made sense…

At least it wasn’t his father — he’d probably ask if Athan found her to be a displeasing friend.

“Huh?” He blinked owlishly, trying to look as confused as he hoped he did. “What’re you talking about, Sir Odysseus? Why would big sis Verena cry?”

Athan was pretty fucking adorable — he knew this and was confident about this fact. He and Athy were blessed with damn good genes. Maybe, on a very slim chance, Odysseus would think he’s a cute and harmless person and that Autumn didn’t actually cry because of him.

“Hmm.”

Maybe his adoration for Ferdie was too strong. How the hell could anyone remain indifferent to his cute face?

. . .

Ah, he spoke too soon, Athanase thought, his eyes noticing the slightest red hue gracing Odysseus’ cheeks. The boy in question simply looked away as he muttered under his breath.

“Well… deserved…”

…?

Did he just scoff? His eyes had looked away, but Athanase could sense that there was a hint of scorn in his muttered voice. He was curious about what Odysseus actually said, but…

If he didn’t know any better, it sounded an awful lot like…

No, it couldn’t be.

Odysseus may be OOC for a character in Toska, but he was still a kid. Granted, no kids to his memories were ever really polite and cordial for the most part, but this was a world with a nobility setting.

(“Would you call me crazy, if I told you that I went back in time?” or so implies whatever character in a cliché rofan manhwa scenario.

Athanase waves the thought away.)

“I don’t know what you think might’ve happened, Sir Odysseus,” Athanase simply smiled. “Care to share your thoughts?”

“Ah, it was simply my imagination, Your Highness,” Odysseus politely responded with an obviously fake smile attached with the false pleasantries. “Forgive me for misunderstanding what happened. I was rather concerned if Lady Durk offended the Imperial Family.”

The way Odysseus apologized felt as if he were mocking him, especially with that twinkle in his eyes. He seemed greatly amused, actually. And it sounded like he himself saw her cry.

Maybe he wanted to know if his “rival” was out of the picture. Or miserable, depending on who he’s obsessed with.

Athan wanted none of Odysseus’ drama-starting shit.

‘He’s more of a brat than I thought,’ Athan absentmindedly thought, instead opting to refocus on his music sheet.

——————————

He could feel eyes staring at him, bearing into his soul.

A glance up, with a smile on his face, he sees his father, looking at him from where he sat at the dining table. Judging by the fact that Athy was nowhere to be seen, it was just Athan who arrived early.

“Good morning, papa!” Athan greeted sweetly, giving him a proper bow before moving to take his seat.

When he sits down he notices his father staring at him. Despite seeming expressionless, he couldn’t help but sense an unspoken displeasure.

Strange, did Athan do something wrong?

‘Maybe he just hates seeing my face as opposed to Athy,’ Athan absentmindedly thought, feeling a pang of bitter disappointment. It was hard not to hate his sister, even though she hadn’t done a damn thing.

The doors open up and in walks Felix holding Athanasia, who he promptly lets down after a glare from his father. He watches her dart around the table, the slightest blur of blonde heading towards their father, giving the man in question a hug.

Huh. When did Athy start getting so affectionate with him?

——————————

Interacting with Athy is, to put it bluntly, weird.

The realization that the original Athanasios hated his older sister made it hard to think of her as the same dumbass sister he cared about. On top of that, the loss of his twin telepathy made it difficult for him to understand her thought process now as if they were strangers. Knowing her, she was probably screeching profanities at him for ignoring her, since she didn’t know what was happening.

Her thoughts were always so loud, too…

Losing the telepathy was a huge blow, because now it left them with only one faucet of their personalities. He had a role to play as a sweet and gentle musician genius, while Athy was a cheerful and friendly prodigy who enjoyed learning. Their telepathy allowed them to just be two young adults in the same unfortunate circumstance.

But, he didn’t want to reconcile with her, if he had to be honest. It was necessary for the sake of convenience, yes, but unwanted.

Unlike him, Athanasia was “complete” in his eyes. She wasn’t burdened by lack of memories, she wasn’t shackled with comparisons purely by being recognized as a genius. Maybe she was the golden child, favoured by looking the most and acting like their mother.

His sister was not controlled by her memories and lack thereof. Not like he was, with his obsession with memories.

Even so, their conversation was inevitable.

He knew it was, and with most of his memories all over the place, he just didn’t want to talk about it. Talking about his lack of memories would only invite questions that he couldn’t answer, questions that he himself wasn’t ready to hear.

‘She doesn’t need to know that this is my third life,’ he concludes, ‘But I’ll tell her about Autumn, otherwise she’ll be too wary of her being so close to me. She already wasn’t happy about me going to Arlanta, either, but Felix managed to get his foot in the door negotiation-wise.’

Felix opens the door, allowing him to poke his head in and see his sister and her playmate.

“Athy, can I play with you?” Athan asked rather sweetly with a smile. “Big sis Verena wanted to talk to Lucas.”

“Of course, Athan!” Athy cheered, smile wide and clearly fake.

Lucas only raised a brow at the odd request from Autumn, but Athan supposed it was justified. Lucas was an outlier, and Autumn wanted to figure out if he really is an unrelated person to this world.

Maybe he’s a transmigrator like them, Athan truthfully considered. Like an OC in fanfics — original characters were a hit or miss with him, but he often made exceptions if he was desperate for a fanfic. Lucas seemed like a cliché self-insert OC — black hair and red eyes, a classic combo that would only be a better fit if he was a mysterious stranger with a tragic backstory…

Focus.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Athy frowned, puffing up her cheeks in clear displeasure. “Ever since I woke up, you never talk to me like normal!”

“Me ignoring you?!” Athan scoffed. “You’re one to talk! You’ve been acting like I don’t even exist!”

“What?”

“What?” he hissed. “What part of that don’t you understand? You’re the genius here.”

——————————

‘Autumn, where are you?!’ Athanase panicked, calmly taking a sip of tea. ‘How do I deal with your obsessive gay son?!’

‘Bitch — where am I? Where the fuck’re you?!’

Autumn’s thoughts practically screeched at him from across the Marquisate.

——————————

Ferdinand Milford is a surprisingly chatty kid. It often grated on his nerves, but oddly enough, there were moments where he did feel fond of Ferdie’s dumb comments. Maybe the original Athanasios was much more familiar with the guy?

He almost reminded him of Athanasia, whenever she tried to urge him to tag along with her.

How was she adjusting to life without him, especially without the telepathy?

Maybe it’s for the best that he doesn’t know.

——————————

“I don’t get it,” Athanase frowned. “I said the same thing word for word as I remembered, but it only made her angry.”

“Did you do anything different?” Autumn asked.

“Not that I can remember,” he shook his head.

“Well surely you must’ve done something,” Autumn wearily said with a wry smile, finally looking over to him. “Charlotte dislikes men, and yet according to your memories, you and our families were the exceptions.”

“But I really didn’t do anything different…”

“That may be, but you need to remember that you’re not the same person any more. You experienced a childhood where you are loved and cherished. Even if she, too, is cherished by her loved ones, maybe you won’t be able to relate to her at all in this life because you’re no longer the same as you once were.”

He hated that thought — a small part of him desperately wanted to know more about Charlotte.

It was a rather ugly feeling.

“I don’t want that,” he quietly admits. “I want to see her smile.”

“You’re surprisingly stubborn about this,” Autumn blinked.

“I don’t remember much, but she was important to me.”

——————————

“I… don’t want to have a painful death.”

She is a beauty beyond compare, though her face was sickly pale with chapped lips. He tries not to note the lack of red hues her lips used to have, nor did he say much as his hands cupped her cold hands. Her eyes are beautiful, but they are now muted orange-yellow sunsets — he still loves them, he still loves her, but it breaks his heart to see her in so much pain.

“Wouldn’t that be nice? Surely you agree, dear.”

“Yeah,” he quietly says, placing his hand next to her as she laid in bed and watching her weakly bring his hand to cup her cheek.

“Do you think I’m being horrid for thinking my family is selfish, love? For saying such horrid things. Mother and father keep telling me to hold on a little longer and have faith,” she weakly huffed. “Sister-in-law keeps telling me that she’ll find someone to save me, and then my elder brother insists that I’ll survive this ordeal, even though he looks away as though ashamed.”

“No,” he wryly smiles, running his fingers through her long blonde hair, watching as her shoulders relax. “I would say the same, if I were plagued with this cursed affliction without a known cure.”

“Truly, my beloved understands me best,” she smiles in return, and he notices how her eyes grow misty. “Am I terrible, having these bad thoughts? For wanting them to cut it out and be realistic?”

“Of course not,” his eyes softened. “They’re trying to handle the situation by having hope, but it’s hurting you the most.”

“I know they mean well,” she states as tears begin to fall. “But it makes me feel all the more guilty for leaving them.”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods, taking his handkerchief out as he wipes away her tears.

——————————

“I will leave you and the princess be — I won’t even try to covet her holy beast. In exchange, I ask that you don’t interfere with the wish I must grant.”

“And whose wish are you talking about?”

“Why, my princess, of course. Isn’t it obvious?” she smiled at him. “Even if she’s not the same person, I must accomplish what’s been asked.”

——————————

“Would you hate me,” [][][][][][][][][] had started, looking off into the horizon, “If I were to be consumed by my short-sighted quest for revenge? If I abandon my ideals of knighthood in exchange for the power it takes to defeat those who have wronged us? If I were to ever become the monster that I had sought to destroy… what would happen, if I stray?”

He raised his hand to cup [][][][][][][][][]’s cheek, speaking gently, tenderly, “I would kill you myself.”

His eyes softened.

“Good.”

——————————

***

She sits on the windowsill, calm and quiet as the wind brushes through her long pale blonde hair. The weight of her dress fell at her sides, a clear indication that she was skinnier than before. Her face sullen, and the skin of her hands had hugged her so that he could see the bone structure.

So, he dimly thinks as realization creeps up on him as if it had always been a known fact. This was the reason why she was hiding away. Up in a room away from everyone in the mansion.

[][][][][][][][][] twirled a flower between her fingers. If anyone from noble society saw her now, they might actually believe her to be a mere ghost, waiting for her time to come.

“[][][][][][],” he quietly says, watching as his beloved wistfully twirls the flower in her hand.

“Ah. I’ve been caught.”

Despite the nonchalant response, she looked rather guilty.

Guilty about taking off without him, he knows.

“You’re leaving.”

It was not a question.

[][][][][][] doesn’t smile at him, and instead wistfully smiles at the flower in her hand.

A precious and pretty flower that will soon wither away.

(She, too, will wither away.)

“I am glad that it was you who found me, and not another soul, my dove.”

He was speechless.

She was now leaving.

She was now leaving by choice.

“Maybe in another life, we would have had a chance,” [][][][][][] bitterly chuckles, her eyes dull from losing its vibrant shine, her dry pale lips curled like wilted flowers.

The sun was shining behind her, illuminating her presence.

She was beautiful, as always, forever in his eyes.

Always tragically beautiful.

“Maybe next time,” she breathes.

At that moment, she finally looks at him, properly then.

“Maybe next time,” he smiles at her, because that’s what she would want to see in her final moments, and she smiles back, elation clear in her eyes.

That was it, he thinks, that’s the smile he longed to see.

. . .

And then she…

And then, she was gone.

“Maybe next time,” he tells himself, finally crumpling to the ground as the tears pour out and his smile withers away.

Maybe next time, he would’ve had the strength to save her from herself.

Maybe next time.

***

——————————

‘What the fuck do I do?!’ Autumn internally screamed, clutching her teacup as Claude’s eyes bore into her.

‘Spit it out!’ Athan cried. ‘Spill the tea!’

Without much thought, Verena coughed, her tea spilling onto her.

“Are you okay, Lady Verena?!” Lady Iris, who was seated at her side, immediately reached out her handkerchief to Autumn.

“Ah… my apologies,” Autumn demurely stated, taking the handkerchief calmly, despite the internal screaming that only Athanase could hear. “I didn’t expect the tea to be as bitter as it was, so the fault lies with me…”

“We’ll just have to make sure there’s more sugar next time for you, Lady Verena,” Athan smoothly stated as he smiled at her before looking at Claude who continued to stare on with a frown. “Papa, may I be excused, so I can show Lady Verena where the dressing rooms are?”

Claude didn’t bother to hide his displeasure, as he narrowed his eyes at Autumn with the most loathsome look. “You are to return as soon as you’re done,” he stated with a more neutral look as his focus returned to Athanase, looking rather disinterested despite Felix seeming to hold back a laughing fit. “There will be no delays.”

“Of course, papa!” Athan chirped as he and Autumn left the room.

. . .

“So scary!” Autumn let out a heavy gasp as she leaned against Athan’s shoulder the moment the doors closed. “If looks can kill, I’d be dead again!”

“Chill, bro. You’re overreacting,” Athan rolled his eyes at her dramatics as he snapped his fingers, instantly cleaning the tea stains. She shot him a confused look. “Dad doesn’t know yet, but I’ve been getting better at magic.”

“He’s gonna murder me in cold blood if he finds out I know that fact before him,” Autumn cried, her face getting red and blotchy. “I have to walk on eggshells if I value my life.”

“Yeah, yeah, wallow about my so-called tsundere dad,” Athan shook his head at her dramatics. “I’ll at least walk you to the dressing room before I leave you alone, so you can focus on planning your funeral.”

“How nice,” Autumn pouted, wiping her eyes with the handkerchief Iris gave. “A companion until my demise.”

——————————

“Dance with me,” Autumn says, looking at him softly. “Stop thinking about it, about them, and just savour the moment we have in this peace and quiet.”

“…I don’t think I can do that.”

“I understand that you have a broken heart,” Autumn whispered, placing her hand over his. “And you can cry all you’d like, but it helps to grieve over something that wasn’t meant to be bit by bit.”

“…you sound like you’ve had your own heart broken.”

“Yes,” Autumn softly murmured. “My heart never stood a chance.”

When did she get a broken heart? She never told him anything in their past life.

“You sound as if you were in love.”

“I was.”

“Who was it?”

“…someone who had no future.”

——————————

“It’s difficult being bisexual in a noble society where it just doesn’t seem to be the norm,” Verena sighed.

“Try being an actual member of the royal family and bisexual. Athy keeps teasing me about the gentlemen — not sure why she’s not teasing me about my potential suitors, but I’m thankful that she hasn’t,” Athan dryly stated. “What’s up with everyone, anyway? There’s not a single ugly person out of all the people I’ve encountered,” he looked at Verena and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Including you, too.”

“As a marriage candidate of yours, I suppose I should be grateful you think of me to be attractive,” Autumn pursed her lips, obviously displeased at his compliment. “You’re not a sight for sore eyes either, unfortunately.”

“It’s called having good genes,” Athanase dryly stated. “Is there an actual reason you were wistfully sighing over your sexuality?”

“Lilian York,” Autumn simply stated as Felix awkwardly tried to ignore their conversation. Briefly, Athan pitied the guard, but also, he found it quite amusing to watch him feign ignorance in the aftermath of all his conversations with Autumn.

Felix was interested in Lily, wasn’t he? It would be fun to try and tease him…

But still.

“My nanny?” he raised a brow. “Really?”

“She’s young, she’s single, she’s devoted,” Autumn huffed, placing a hand on her hip. “She’s pretty, she’s very sweet and kind, she’s mother material—”

“—Alright, you’ve made your point,” he interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And you’ve also made it abundantly clear that you’ve no interest in anyone in our generation. It’s not like you can make it even more clear.”

He froze.

That sounded like a challenge.

Athan did not intend to challenge her.

For a moment, Autumn is quiet. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest, as if he’ll loathe this conversation for years to come. They make eye contact.

“Don’t—” Athan hissed.

“Duke Robain,” Autumn seriously stated as Felix immediately choked and stared at them in baffled disbelief. Athan didn’t blame him, he would’ve reacted the same way if Autumn mentioned his own father. Even then, his father wouldn’t be too terrible of an answer since Duke Robain was likely in his 50s-60s by now. To an outsider, it would simply make Autumn seem as if she were into grandparents.

She probably would’ve said his father’s name, if she didn’t value her own life. It was fortunate that she gave no fucks after Felix found out about her interests in mothers and fathers.

Still, he made a face, wrinkling his nose as he very much judged her blatant disregard for manners.

“Can you not?”

“Duke Robain.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, deliberately choosing to ignore her as he takes a sip of his tea.

“Duke. Robain.”

“I heard you the first time, and I prefer to leave it at that,” Athan flatly shot back, placing his cup of tea back down. “Now, will you kindly shut up?”

She did not kindly shut up.

“He’s gorgeous, Prince Athanase!” Autumn seemed to practically swoon. “Duke Robain is my ideal man. The silver-grey is a lovely combination with his red hair, and his voice is just—!” Autumn squealed. “And he’s just so gentlemanly.”

“Duke Robain is, what, three times our physical age, now?” he rubbed his temple, feeling a headache creeping in. “And need I remind you that we haven’t even debuted yet, at the very least?”

“He’s only, like, 45, last I recall,” Autumn confidently stated. Well shit, there goes his guess. He keeps forgetting that high society’s wack like that with their marriages and crap. “And Duke Robain has yet to remarry. And you debut in four years — we have time. I need to plan a memorable first meeting!”

“Right…” he slowly spoke, his eyes trailing away from his companion and over to Felix, who appeared very much horrified by the conversation and very much wishing he never heard a word. “Good luck with that, I suppose.”

——————————

“Don’t!” Odysseus had shouted, trying to cover Athanase’s face. “Don’t look!”

“Sir Odysseus…?”

“Please… don’t try to remember.”

As if mocking Odysseus, the flames roared, a scream accompanying it.

And Athan, he… he…

He blacks out.

. . .

Everything ached in a way that felt unfamiliar to him.

He hears the cackling fire and frowns, opening his eyes. The room was getting uncomfortably warm, and he couldn’t move much, nor could he speak.

And that’s when he sees it — a fire burning the building, reaching towards him in an agonizingly slow pace. He tried to break away, only to realize that he was tied to a chair, with a piece of cloth over his mouth.

He tried to squirm, but it was no use—

It was only then that he heard a faint shout, screaming for him.

That very same person had reignited the hope he had lost in the midst of despair.

“[][][][][][][][]! Please, answer me! Your Highness, Prince—”

——————————

“You don’t even like physical labour!” Athan stated in clear exasperation.

“Just because I don’t want to be a swordsman doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the art as a writer!” Verena argued back as Athy watched them, taking a sip of her tea as she watched the two argue. “Besides, knights who can use magic are sexy and popular in literature nowadays!”

“You just want to write a love story involving a prince and a knight,” Athan shot back. “You even wrote that smut fic involving, well, you know.”

“That’s not true! That’s not true!” Verena screeched, covering her ears as she pointedly avoided eye contact.

“Says FFN User Starshine-Dreaming!”

“No, no, no!” Verena cried. “Drop it! I stopped writing on FFN for a reason, Athan! When in heavens are you finally going to stop reminding me about it all?!”

“Who knows,” he flatly responded. “Maybe I’ll be reminding you for the same length of time that I’ve waited for a chapter update — several years, bitch.”

“It’s been more than six years! Get over it already, asshole!”

“Six in the previous life, but eight including now!” Athan hissed. “Fourteen years in total, Autumn!”

——————————

“So… I might have fucked up canon this time,” Autumn immediately started the conversation with a pleasant smile on her face.

“Excuse me?” he blinked, taken aback as he looks at her.

“Hari Ernst,” Autumn sheepishly grinned.

“Autumn… what did you do?” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Eheh… well, I have a little sister now! Surprise?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” she sheepishly nodded, taking a sip of her tea as she avoids eye contact. “Brother and I were out shopping together, we ended up finding Hari, and brother pitied her, so we proposed that maybe we took her into the family. Auntie needs an heiress, last I recall.”

“Dude… didn’t the oldest of the Ernst boys like Hari, even though she practically looks like she could be their sister’s twin with how similar they look to each other? I did not torture myself with reading that damn novel to reach this point, dammit.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Autumn nodded. “Besides, didn’t you say that it would be a good idea to befriend the Ernst Family? I hear that they’ll be partaking in the Hunting Competition. Who knows, maybe if the future heiress of the Pompidou Family ends up charming the future Duke of the Ernst Family, we’ll have ourselves a proper alliance by marriage going on.”

“Do you honestly believe, to the gods above, that Eugene would marry into the Pompidou Family?”

“…We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

——————————

“So, my aunt will be adopting Hari — er, Harley — and it turns out, since my uncle refuses to adopt her since she’s from the streets, she’ll remain a Demirci. When Hari — fuck, Harley —inherits the title, she can keep the name.”

“That doesn’t sound plausible to a noble society…”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I just opted to talk to His Majesty.”

“You talked to my dad?”

“All I did was mention that you thought Pompidou is a dumb name and that you felt bad that Hari — HARLEY — was going to be called by that name when she gets older. And that it’d make you really happy if she could go by Demirci, so you should maybe act really cute with His Majesty like Her Highness, Princess Athanasia.”

“…right. Also, you know it’s fine to still call her Hari, right? If anyone notices then just say it’s a nickname.”

“…why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Cause it was funny watching you struggle over something so simple.”

“Wow, what a bitch.”

——————————

“We need to talk.”

Autumn’s smile faltered the moment she heard those words. “Oh no, are we breaking up?”

“What?”

“I swear I’ll change, babe!” Autumn stated, slumping in her seat over the table. “Please don’t leave meeee.”

“Autumn, the fuck’re you on about?”

“You said the classic breakup intro, dude. I had to do it for the sake of our readers. What if they got their hopes up regarding our relationship? No, no! Things like this ought to be clearly defined.”

“…my best friend’s going crazy. Look, nobody would ever ship us — except for maybe a few crazy multi-shippers. Like yourself. Even my sister’s against the very thought of it. She’d rather I start crushing on Ijekiel, and everyone knows how popular I’d be with him! Plus, the majority of our readers don’t want me to end up with a girl.”

“Damn. Way to hurt me right where it hurts the most. I can’t believe I’m un-shippable with my own bestie…”

——————————

“You should be fine,” Autumn snorts, taking a sip from her glass. “Common noble etiquette dictates that you should never approach someone of higher status for a dance. Princess Athanasia is more approachable. Just frown at everyone and you’ll be good.”

“So I should treat them like bugs the same way my dad does,” Athan concluded.

——————————

***

“As you already know by now,” she weakly says, “Athanasios died. In my rewrite, I tried to figure out a way to keep him alive, I wanted to give the twins a happy ending.”

That was surprising — she never told him that.

“No matter what I tried to write, I couldn’t imagine him being alive at the end of Toska. Somehow, or some way, he was going to end up dying. It was the main reason why I stopped posting updates in the first place. I wanted to finish it, though, at least for you, when I found out that you read my story. I wanted to finish rewriting Toska for you, but then you…”

But then he died.

She had no reason to finish her story, if the one she rewrote it for wouldn’t even be there to read it.

“And it was… it was the same. For Athanasios. He…” she refused to look up from her teacup, but he could already see where she was going with this.

“Athanasios died in your rewrite.”

Just like he did.

Verena says nothing, but that alone is enough of an answer.

Athanase slowly nods as dawning realization washes over him. And he remembers that dream, where he spoke to Diana, and the way he moved closer to the ledge.

(He feels a twinge of guilt, a pain in his chest, for what he was about to do.)

“He jumped from a tower.”

Nothing.

(There is something about him that she sees, and he knows this, because there is a moment that her soft smile crumples. Tears pour out as his mother becomes distraught, sadness splashing him in waves, but he stands still — unyielding. He finally takes a step closer to the balcony, hands touching the cold stone.)

“And he chose to do it. He wasn’t pushed, he wasn’t threatened, he wasn’t manipulated, he wasn’t in any danger.”

His throat felt dry.

He knows.

“It was a deliberate choice. Athanasios… he wanted to die.”

(An image of Diana standing on the balcony, crying as she tries to stop her son who only shakes his head and smiles, who tells her “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough.”

The sensation of stepping on the ledge, ignoring his silently crying mother.)

“Athanasios got tired of living,” he quietly says.

Verena closes her eyes, tears spilling forth as she never looks at him. She says nothing, again, as he figures it all out, slowly and verbally voicing the thoughts aloud, a sick and twisted feeling rising from within.

He feels nauseous.

(An image of long black hair whirling in the wind comes to mind, high up on a rooftop, staring up at the darkening skies above. Lips curling up into a smile as they ignored the painful aches of their bones. The feeling of freedom just within their reach…)

“I got tired of living.”

And it should be alarming, really, but it doesn’t surprise him.

He always believed that he wasn’t the sort of person to just… jump to end his life, and yet he did — he has, he had, he might. With a compelling enough reason, it was a magical excuse to end it all.

It just so happened that wanting death was reason enough.

(“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. Maybe next time.”)

In his previous life — lives, maybe — he wanted to die.

She doesn’t need to tell him the reason why she never finished the rewrite anymore. He did exactly what Athanasios had done. It must’ve felt terrible, reading your own writing meant for a friend who died, only for that very person to die in the same exact way, albeit in different circumstances and situations, in different places and times.

But for the same reasons.

It still happened, even if he never thought he would consider…

(He died.)

“You did,” Verena softly confirmed, but she didn’t really have to, not after his memory was steadily returning with more clarity and pain. “And that’s why you died in our last life together.”

People are complicated. They’re irrational or logical, fuelled by motivations or lack thereof. They’re complicated, righteous or morally grey, or downright psychotic or had been sane this whole time. Their actions could be done for stupid or convoluted reasons that most just wouldn’t be able to recognize from the get go.

The answers can be difficult to answer, because sometimes a reason why things happen include multiple issues, little things that build up over time.

And sometimes, the answer he’s been looking for really is as simple as that:

“You were tired, Athanase.”

(“I’m… tired.”)

***

#fic: in the back of my mind #wip tidbit #wynter writes

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starlit-dreaming · 12 days

Text

re: in the back of my mind [prologue]

Fandom: WMMAP / SBAPOD Rating: M Main/Eventual Ships: OC x OC, Lucathy Minor Ships: Felily, Calena, and more Note: I FINALLY REWROTE ITBOMM (i post on ao3 first, tumblr second, and wattpad third)

Cross-posted with AO3 and (eventually) Wattpad under the same title.

MASTERPOST / CONTENT WARNINGS

Chapters:

Prologue || [0] Act 1: Beginning of the End || 1 // 2 // 3

Summary:

“Maybe next time.”

Athan was what one might call an anti-fan for The Lovely Princess novel — that is, he loved to hate it. It was total garbage, but the writing was pretty lit. Imagine his surprise when he finds himself reborn as a baby in that same garbage novel’s universe.

Or rather, a Lovely Princess fanfic he always reread in his previous life.

//A retelling wherein Athanasia has a younger twin brother… or at least, that’s what it should’ve been.

—————

CHAPTER WARNING: • Suicide

Due to the fact that suicide and grief is a heavy topic of discussion in this story, I will not be setting an individual chapter warning for it unless it’s explicitly shown or discussed in future chapters. Or unless I feel that it’s warranted for the chapter (like there being a scene that focuses on it).

——————————

0. an unfinished prologue

"What should I live for? I say, "until next time, until next time," I've agreed to chase after my dreams. Ah, it's okay. "You're okay." You and me, we're lost, An unfinished prologue." Song: Prologue — Minami (美波)

——————————

Everything is quiet.

There’s a strange calmness, despite the aches and bruises that makes it difficult for him to breathe. The cloud drifts, the orange and red glow of the setting sun settling into purples and dark blues, with the faintest glimmer of a star in the distance.

He cannot breathe, or rather, it’s difficult for him to breathe in the cold spring air. It’s his broken nose, he thinks, but it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.

(Breathe in, breathe out.

This feeling is temporary, and soon, it will pass.)

The dull ache is a reminder, he tells himself, biting down on the bitterness lest he turns back, though he doesn’t understand it entirely. Not yet, maybe he never will, or maybe he always has. His eye throbs, stinging from the wind.

Trembling hands reach towards the metal fence, his legs climbing on up and over the railings until he stands on the ledge. It was only a step away. His bandaged hands hold the metal safety net behind him, and he stands there, numb. His vision blurs as his eyes burn from tears, and his cheeks grow numb from the cold caress of the wind.

(This isn’t how he imagined it would go.)

“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough,” he whispers to the stars, as the sun rests into the slumbers of night.

(At least it will be on his terms.)

There is no one here, just him and the moon and sky.

(And you, who can only watch on, helpless.

What could you do?

Nothing .)

“…maybe next time,” he wishes, to the stars above. “Maybe next time,” he wishes, as if it would be enough, “Maybe next time.”

The wind rushes through his long hair, beckoning him over.

His eyes shut tight.

He jumps.

——————————

—————

———

—

“When does life end?”

He looks up from his laptop to the front of the classroom, where his professor stands in front of the whiteboard.

For a sunny day, questioning mortality didn’t seem to fit the sunshine mood. There was a sense of unease that could be felt amidst the silence after the question was posed, but it was a question waiting to be answered. He didn’t really want to say anything, however, so he remains silent.

After all, life ends when you die, what else could it be?

“When we die,” one of his classmates threw out their answer. A young woman wearing a beanie, nursing a to-go cup of coffee. (Coffee sounded good, maybe he should stop by the coffee shop after class? He didn’t get enough sleep the night before.) A few awkwardly murmur their agreements, the majority nod.

“When we go to heaven,” another calmly added. An elderly gentleman, with a notebook sitting before him, with glasses perched on his nose. It was a classic answer, all things considered.

The professor accepts that, looking around the classroom.

“Wonderful. Does anyone here have an answer that differs from these two?”

In the corner of his eye, [][][][][][] shyly raised her finger. His best friend was in clear disagreement with the statement, but didn’t want to outright say it — she never did outgrow that hesitant hand-raising habit, though. The professor smiles, gesturing for her and telling her to go ahead.

“It doesn’t,” she states, hesitant. “Whether you believe in reincarnation or not, or in an afterlife, life doesn’t end.”

The statement stumped him.

It seemed to be exactly what the professor wanted, however. He smiled, with his eyes asking a question he seemed to already know the answer to.

“Could you please elaborate?”

“Um…” [][][][][][] blinked, briefly casting him a glance — she didn’t expect to get this far. If he wasn’t curious about the answer either, he’d be snickering at her panic. “It’s not to say that death isn’t a valid answer, as it is the end of a life,” she calmly explained, looking back at the professor. “When we’re born, you could say that’s our introductory chapter, and notable events throughout our lives are the chapters of our storybooks. Say, for example, someone we care about dies, that’s a chapter in our life, but that’s the conclusion of that person’s story. Life will still continue on, even if that person dies.”

He never thought about it that way. The fact that life will still move on, that there were still people taking their steps forward. A death can affect multiple people, becoming a chapter in someone else’s life. Damn, that’s pretty deep.

“Fascinating,” the professor said, turning to the board. “That’s more or less what I was looking for, but using books as an example is a nice touch. You all have great answers, and none are wrong in their own rights. Whether an afterlife exists or not, or if you believe in reincarnation — that’s not my question.”

A circle is drawn, representing the cycle of rebirth as the professor drones on, adding words to go along. He’s frankly too tired to follow along. Something, something — the professor mentioned religion because of reincarnation?

“So when does life end?”

“It doesn’t.”

(“Maybe next time.”)

———

The world itself is constant — always moving on.

“When we die” is a simple, straightforward answer when asked when life ends — it doesn’t address the complications, it doesn’t elaborate, for it’s a statement that stands on its own. It’s an acceptable answer at face value, an answer understood and taken without question. It’s an answer that isn’t wrong, as a life does in fact end.

But death is only a chapter of a story. An arc of grief.

When life ends with one person, there is still life found in another. Who does the dead leave behind? Who are the ones that wither life away and grieve? Who are the ones that deal with the aftermath of loss? Who will hold the memories of the dead, the ones who will always remember no matter their thoughts and feelings? Who will keep the dead alive in memories?

For those who still live, it’s a chapter in their lives; those stuck in the past will be left behind in a world of constant motion. In this world, those who move forward are the survivors of grief, the ones who attend funerals and grieve, the ones who remember the constant barrage of “what if’s”, the ones who eventually learn to smile again.

But then, there are those who chase after a shadow of the people they used to know, clinging to the past.

The ones who stop in this moving world, who forfeits their lives.

And, the ones who choose to end their story.

———

(“So when does life end?”

“…”

“It doesn’t.”)

—

———

—————

——————————

His heart slams wildly against his chest, and he snaps his eyes wide open. An abrupt cry escapes from him, high-pitched and whiny — almost like a baby, his mind unhelpfully adds — and he gets teary-eyed from the amount of shock. Teary eyes stare up at the ceiling, and if he has to be honest, he’s feeling pretty freaked out right now after that sensation of falling.

He doesn’t remember much of the Before, not even his name and age. Probably early twenties, if he had to be honest, but that’s all.

And, well, he was pretty damn broke, too. The fact that he’s awake in a big old fancy room that could only exist in the manhwas he’s read throughout his life, he can’t entirely rule out kidnapping. He couldn’t really move either…

“Hhhng…” he tried to voice out, only to realize that yes, it was indeed a sound coming from him. He was swaddled up like a baby in the most comfortable of fabrics.

Well, fuck. He’s always thought about what-ifs when it came to transmigrating, but to think it actually happened to him. He never actually thought too deeply about those what-if scenarios, because he just couldn’t imagine a world without the internet.

What the hell were the odds?

‘Whoa…!’ he hears a startled voice — a girl, he seemed to know immediately. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

He sniffs, blinking watery eyes to see a blurry figure of a baby laying beside in their crib that looks too big, too much.

‘Who…?’ he numbly thought, trying to look for the voice. ‘Oh… wait. Fuck, I’m a child,’ yeah, amazing observation there, genius. The realization of this fact had just slapped him upside the head despite having come to terms with it about a minute or so ago as he noticed that they were both in a crib. He looks down, feeling his chubby cheeks touching the soft fabric he was clothed in. ‘I hope I’m cute.’

‘We’re twins, so I think we look alike, if that helps,’ says the other voice. She didn’t seem very reassured though, as she continued, mostly grumbling to herself, ‘At least I’m not alone in all of this…’

He glances back to the baby dressed up in a pink onesie with a floral headband.

‘Okay, so… I transmigrated into a baby like one of my rofan manhwas,’ he notes, more for his sake than anything. ‘Do you know what we’re in?’

‘You trans-what now?’

‘Transmigrated,’ he patiently explained, ‘It’s basically when someone reincarnates — usually into a story they used to read in their previous life. Or a show they watched, although I think it’s normally a novel they read.’

‘Huh. Well, the only thing I can think of is The Lovely Princess, since my name is Athanasia.’

‘But there’s no prince in the novel,’ he frowned. ‘So maybe that’s going to be the main difference? Or maybe we aren’t actually in The Lovely Princess. Assuming that I haven’t lost my marbles — which is debatable, really — I’m basically living as Arjen and Arien from The Twin Siblings New Life, since we’re basically communicating through telepathy, so a fanfic, maybe. We’re both blonde, so maybe we’re the same twins in TSNL even if we weren’t twins in our previous life? Never mind, we have jewelled blue eyes so definitely The Lovely Princess. Unless you’re a figment of my imagination, and I’m crazy after all…’

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ the voice flatly stated in exasperation. ‘But I assure you, you haven’t gone crazy, and I’m literally right next to you.’

‘Is my name Athanasios? Please tell me it isn’t. That’s like, the classic twin siblings naming sense in The Lovely Princess fandom,’ he wondered, his squirrel brain kicking in.

‘Yeah, you’re Athanasios. Sorry, I guess?’

‘Well fuck. Do people hate us? Are we royals with a good for nothing dad?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Huh. I sincerely hope we’re in a childcare rofan type story…’

‘Dude, what the fuck is a childcare rofan?’

‘Romantic fantasy that involves children being well-cared for. Preferably us being well-cared for.’

‘Right…’

‘Man. I kinda hope we’re not in a Lovely Princess fanfic — I’ve read so many screwy LP fics, and I want no part of it. Just call me Athan, honestly. Athanasios sounds too similar to Anastacius the former Emperor. God, if I transmigrated into Starshine-Dreaming’s fanfic, I’d be so screwed…’

‘Uh… Athan. What’s a fanfic?’

‘Oh boy…’ he wearily thought. ‘This is gonna be a long life…’

——————————

There were a few things that Athan remembered.

(And no, that didn’t apply only to fanfiction, mind you. He remembers more than a college drop-out hyped up on caffeine working on a fanfic at the ass crack of dawn. Which totally doesn’t apply to whomever is reading this.)

So, he’s pretty sure he and his newly acquired sister transmigrated into the unfortunately popular The Lovely Princess novel. Or some variation of it, at least. He was what many would consider as an anti-fan in his previous life, really. The most that he ever did was read fanfics and fix-it AUs that he managed to find, and on top of that, he was more of an Athanasia stan than a Jennette or Claude fan.

Which is precisely why he thinks that he might be in one of those AUs that he’s read so much about, the one where Athanasia had a younger twin sibling.

He’s not sure if that’s better or worse.

More often than not, the twin sibling fanfics he read would result in all bad endings (or simply just left unfinished), since the fandom seemed to be following a collective opinion of how poetic it would be for the twins to die together. How they would never die alone and cue the sad emojis here and the overly dramatic tears there.

Frankly, it’s a surprise that he didn’t die from high blood pressure with how much those types of fics grounded on his nerves. Especially all the salt he felt towards the fic writers who wrote Athanasia as a bitchy older step-sister trope to Jennette’s Cinderella story. Only a few people criticized the novel, but due to the book’s overwhelming popularity, a lot of those voices went unheard and a lot of the fics he actually enjoyed hadn’t been updated.

According to his newly acquired sister, she remembered the novel. (And she was a total normie in her previous life — she never heard of fanfiction or even fandoms! The most she ever did was interact with fans who claimed that the novel was hot shit and that she needed to better understand how amazing it is. Ptooey! They wouldn’t know a good story if it smacked them in the face! The Lovely Princess is fantastic from a literary standpoint, but it was overall a crappy romantic tragedy wherein the author was probably just a self-insert. It’d be like if someone called Romeo and Juliet the greatest romantic tragedy play ever written when, if you really thought about, it was a fucked up story of kids dying for the sake of love and meant to be an overdramatic comedy.)

Meanwhile, Athan remembered only the bare minimum of the novel and remembered every detail of Toska, a fanfic he consistently reread that was never finished. It was a bad ending for the twins, but it delved into the idea that Jennette wasn’t fully innocent.

‘How did that fanfic go, again…?’

In his previous life, he poured countless hours into reading fanfic after fanfic in hopes of finding a happy ending. Some fic writers portrayed her as one of those Mean Girls stereotypes for the sake of having an antagonist, few had her be too OOC because of the dumb blonde trope, and others had her be the jealous tramp trying to steal Jennette’s beloved Ijekiel. (Cue the gagging here.)

And then there were some that barely mentioned her at all despite the fic listing her as one of the major characters. (Like, what was the point? Why mention them in the tags at all if they aren’t gonna be involved apart from a mention?)

There was one goldmine, though. It was a fanfic called Toska written by FFN User Starshine-Dreaming, as mentioned before. The word Toska was one of those untranslatable Russian words that could easily mean “yearning”, “melancholy”, “listless”, or “boredom”, but it was all of it and so much more.

His favourite explanation of the term coincided with the fanfic writer’s — a longing with nothing to long for.

Fucking poetic, right?

It was focused on Athanasia, written in third-person POV with the twin siblings AU. The story wasn’t incredibly popular or anything, but he did enjoy reading the developing familial camaraderie between the twins. It delved into a realistic exploration of a family with an absent father and a dead, unloved mother, diving into the feelings of inadequacy against their newfound sibling. The twins had only themselves and their nanny, Lily, thus, they were (mostly) quiet and gloomy.

There were headcanons that were completely far-fetched, but plausible, with ideas that miraculously worked. There was a genuine reason to dislike Jennette, and that was due to the fact that she was naïve for a princess who knew nothing about proper palace etiquette, and she had a two-faced personality. The twin brother wasn’t overly rude, but it was very obvious that he didn’t like Jennette, not even a tiny bit. There were moments in which Athanasios did humiliate Jennette for not knowing proper etiquette, though Athanasia helped her flourish.

It was a pretty damn depressing fanfic, if he had to be honest. In the fic, the author had Athanasios fall in love with Ijekiel, but he fell in love with Athanasia despite being engaged to Jennette, and the prince had just been blatantly rejected. It was pretty much a yay for the gay rep, but a boo for the sad in his mind.

It featured a lot of one-sided love, actually, which seemed to be the author’s favourite thing to write. Unlike her fics for her other fandoms.

(Talk about a sadist, amirite?)

Additionally, there were only twelve chapters, and it ended off on a god-damn cliffhanger.

It gets worse. How so, one might ask? The fanfic was posted seven years ago from the first time that he read it — he was nineteen when he stumbled upon it. The fic was never completed, and the author was no longer a part of the Lovely Princess fandom judging by their very active Tumblr under a new username. He only knew them as Starshine-Dreaming, going by Starlit as an online name (they had a common seasonal name that made him laugh cause it was a funny coincidence, and he can’t remember why — what was their other name? Winter? Spring? Vernal? Ah, whatever) and he sent them an ask on Tumblr regarding their progress to which they answered with an outdated shrug kaomoji hours later and said that they were thinking of doing a rewrite.

Yeah… a rewrite that took years, apparently. Not that he blamed them — life seemed to have been pretty hectic for them.

Doesn’t help that Athan was dying from a lack of content.

It also didn’t help that the author deleted that fanfic when they deleted their FFN account. He was only able to read it over and over again with ease because of some sorta FFN .pdf file converter he used prior to its demise, since he had shitty Wi-Fi. They had an AO3, but it wasn’t ever reposted.

But alas, that was three years ago before he died.

Long story short, there was no hope for a new chapter before his death. There was also no known rewrite in existence.

The fanfic starts with the twins having their first meeting with their deadbeat sperm donor when they turned seven, and would regularly see him once a week, though it would only last for several minutes because the twins were terrified and shaking the whole time. A lot of the time he seemed disinterested in them and their conversations, and when they got older, those meetings became once every two weeks, then once a month, and then only on special occasions.

Deadbeat Claude didn’t bother with them much after Jennette came into the picture.

Since Athanasios from the fanfic was one of the few who was openly against Jennette, he was deemed as a “villain” in Jennette’s life and had to disappear like many of Ijekiel’s admirers who hated her. It didn’t help that her cheerful personality seemed to have won everyone’s hearts. She was an eyesore, to put it simply.

However, Athanasios was still a prince, so it wasn’t exactly easy to get rid of him. Not unless the deadbeat sperm donor does it himself. Which, surprisingly, he didn’t.

The issue solved itself when Athanasios goes missing and is claimed to have been poisoned. A lot of people blamed his ex-fiancée, Verena Pompidou, but apparently she went missing after their engagement got broken off due to her obsessed infatuation with Ijekiel, meaning that she wasn’t a viable suspect. So, the next person to be suspected naturally went to Athanasia, because what if she actually did inherit His Majesty’s murder-y tendencies? It was essentially a “like parent, like child” situation — they both had killed their brothers! If you believed that, of course.

Of course, he died at sixteen in the end, two years before his sister.

That was where the fanfic was left off at. It didn’t say anything other than the fact that he was declared dead by their sperm donor. Starlit did leave a TL;DR on her Tumblr stating that Athanasios died and that the events were more or less the same as the novel after his death since she couldn’t think of anything more to it, hence why she left it off with that. She mentioned that her rewrite would be a hopeful or happy ending instead.

Still, he would’ve liked to read more of Athanasios and his crazy ex-fiancée. It would’ve been nice to know the events leading to his death and have confirmation!

There were a few things that remained the same between the novel and the fanfic: in both versions, they lived in the Ruby Palace which was meant for the concubines and lovers, excluding the Empress. Their dad was pretty much a deadbeat asshole — I mean, seriously! Why have kids if you’re not going to be a part of their life?

So yeah, if they were in The Lovely Princess, he could kiss the rofan genre goodbye. So much for an easygoing happy life without any hardships.

And then, well, there was another problem Athan was experiencing.

There were a lot of blanks in his memory. It’s strange, and honestly a bit alarming to know that he didn’t actually know anything about himself. He could remember oddly specific details — his best friend and her mannerisms, but not her name, going to children’s birthday parties in the most uncomfortable of formal wear, reading fanfics and manhwas, and how he loved to stare up at the sky.

Part of him both pitied and envied Athy, who remembered her life and the events leading up to her death. Dying in the midst of winter, possibly because of sleeping pills, or likely because of lack of heating. She remembered growing up in poverty, hence why she didn’t particularly mind being a hated princess if it meant having three meals a day and growing up with more luxury than she had ever known.

He could respect that.

(Ignoring the times that she laments over being mistreated or openly hated by the maids, but he supposes that it’s just his newfound sister being a drama queen cause Athan quite likes being ignored, so he can sleep… until he needs a diaper change or to be fed.)

And it’s just… frustrating. No matter how hard he tries, all he could ever remember is the sunset sky, the stars lighting up the night and flashes of a city from heights. Him on a rooftop, looking up with his problems drifting away. Maybe late autumn or early winter’s cold caress against his cheek, wind running through his hair.

His previous life seemed nice, if he had to be honest. It must’ve been peaceful…

Well, it’s better to leave it at that. He can’t go back.

(But, as the voices whisper reminders in the back of his mind, he wonders if he died because…

. . .

“It’s a pity you weren’t born a [][][]—”

. . .

“Does it matter?”

“…it doesn’t.”)

#wynter writes #fic: in the back of my mind (rewrite)#fic: itbomm #wmmap fic

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