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separatist-apologist · 8 months

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Buried Alive Inside My Dreams

Summary: An evil enchantress has locked Princess Feyre Archeron in a tower, secluding her from her family and removing her entirely from the outside world. Trapped and alone, Feyre turns her gaze to the stars, dreaming of returning home to her sisters- of finding peace. She's determined to escape before her birthday and the annual starfall that marks the occasion just as soon as she can figure out a way down.

When a thief breaks into her tower, Feyre takes her chances and leaves with him, unaware of who this man is and the price freedom will try and extract from her

Happy @officialfeysandweek2023

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

It was the hottest bath Feyre had ever taken in her life. She was grateful Rhys left her for the hour, giving her time to wash out her hair and her skin, which required her to empty the tub twice so she wasn’t sitting in filthy water. By the time he returned, she was standing naked in the washroom, towel drying her hair.

“I got you something to sleep in,” he called from the other side. “I’ll close my eyes if you want to grab it.”

So grateful he’d brought her anything at all, Feyre hadn’t considered it was Rhys until the silken nightdress was in her hands.

“You’re ridiculous!” she complained, though she pulled the outfit over her head all the same. The thin straps did nothing to hide her shoulders, and the lacy front dipped, revealing the faintest amount of cleavage. It halted above her thighs and felt utterly scandalous to sleep in.

Feyre braided the damp strands before coming out in the cloud of steam. Rhys was laying clothes out on the trunk that were clearly meant for her. Wool-lined pants and a thick, white, long sleeved shirt with stockings and a hat and a deep, purple cape.

“This is too much,” Feyre breathed, noting he’d gotten himself some things, too. “Where did you get all this money?”

Rhys only grinned. Right. He was a thief. She didn’t feel so bad accepting when he’d stolen it.

“One last thing,” he said, pulling out a garment bag. “For Starfall. Everyone will be dressed up. You should be, too. I’m going to take a bath, but there’s food on the table. Help yourself.”

And that was that. She swore she caught a hint of red crawling up his neck before he vanished behind the door. Feyre didn’t move until she heard the tap squeak and the sound of rushing water. Not wanting to think about Rhys without his clothes on, she turned to busy herself with the last thing he’d gotten for her.

It was a dress. The kind of dress meant for a princess, she thought, as she pulled the silvery blue, beaded gown from the bag it had been set inside. Twin combs of pearl nearly clattered to the floor, caught in the skirt just before they could shatter. Feyre wondered if they’d hold her hair back at all and hoped they might. Perhaps she could twist it into a pretty knot rather than its usual, unmanageable braid.

Feyre admired the dress for a long moment before gently putting it back in the back and laying it overtop another nice bag which she assumed must hold something for him. It was tempting to look, but not as tempting as the meat on skewers from the table. She’d see, besides, and that would be enough. The last thing Feyre needed was to spend the next two nights fantasizing about Rhys looking like a prince when she knew the minute he dropped her into Avalon, he’d turn around and leave her.

Scrambling for her pants, Feyre found Rhys’s ring still hidden in the pocket. There was nowhere to put it in her nightdress. Nowhere but her hand, and she thought he might lose it if he saw her wearing it. Making her way to the large bed they were meant to share, Feyre slid it beneath her pillow by the window.

By the time Rhys returned, utterly clean, with droplets clinging to his dark hair, Feyre was sitting at the table halfway through her food. Through all the good, if she was being honest. Rhys merely grinned, ignoring that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and her mouth that was currently hanging open at the sight.

“You eat like an army,” he teased, dropping into the chair opposite hers. “I could have gotten more.”

“Now you know,” Feyre replied, not bothering to mention this was the first good meal she’d had in ten years. Maybe he knew it, because Rhys didn’t make another comment on what she ate.

He merely put things on his own plate, turning his face toward the window to watch the bustling crowds below. Night was only just beginning to fall, leaving street lamps to flicker on. It did nothing for the people moving about. Tables began to fill, set beside warm braziers so the chill didn’t feel so oppressive.

Feyre wanted to be among them. Rhys seemed to guess that, too. “Tomorrow, let’s eat outdoors.”

“Will we be paying?”

“If you’d like,” he said with an easy, handsome smile. “I’d be happy to take you on a date.”

Feyre’s heart nearly exploded in her chest. “It’s not a date.”

“Of course not,” he said with a roguish wink. “We’re just…what are we, then, darling?”

“Whatever two people forced together are called,” she replied, ever the liar.

“Friends, then,” he decided. Yes, that did feel true, in a way. He’d saved her life, and in turn, she’d saved his, hasn’t she? And yet somehow it also felt like a lie—they were “friends” in the most terrible sense of the world, because friends certainly weren’t daydreaming about Rhys taking off his shirt.

And his pants, too.

Feyre hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking about. Rhys ate and Feyre kept her expression sullen to keep Rhys from guessing what she was thinking. The undeniable truth was staring them both in the face in the form of that large bed, practically mocking her when there was nothing left to do but get into it.

Rhys busied himself by straightening up, his golden brown skin flushed. Every once and a while she’d catch the violet blue of his eyes snag on her, settling beneath soft blankets until she finally snapped. “Do you plan to sleep tonight? Or are you going room to room offering maid service.”

“Desperate to—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Feyre warned, holding up a finger. “Just get in bed.”

His smug smirk did little to ease Feyre’s nerves. The bed dipped beneath his weight, his legs so long that his feet were flush against the footboard. While she turned off the lamp beside her, Rhys shucked off his shirt and oh. She wished he hadn’t. Rhys was nothing but pure, carved muscle. Up close, Feyre could see little white knicks against his skin from a blade and battles he’d fought and won, marked alongside the black ink of his tattoos.

“What do those mean?” she asked, tracing one of the runes on his shoulder before she realized she was touching him.

“They’re for luck,” he said, though Feyre very much doubted that was the whole truth. What kind of thief needed that kind of protection? And for that matter, what thief was built like he was—like a battle honed warrior who’d been born with a sword in hand? There was a mystery about him swirling like fog. Feyre wanted to untangle it, which was a mistake.

Pulling her hand back, Feyre murmured, “Oh.”

She knew better than to touch him by now. Rhys was too still, his gaze burning her skin. Feyre settled into the bed, turning her back to him. Rhys remained propped against the headboard for a long minute, the wheels grinding loudly in his head.

Don’t comment on it, she thought silently. He heeded her, joining her on the mattress with a soft sigh.

“What are you going to do when you get to Avalon?” Rhys asked her.

Marry a Vanserra and pray he’ll give me an army. “I don’t know,” Feyre admitted. The thought of marrying some foreign prince seemed atrocious to her. “I just—”

Another pause. “You just what?”

“I have this dream,” she dared to say, not turning to look at him. Rhys shifted.

“Tell me.”

“She has my sisters, too. Amarantha, I mean. And in my dream, I imagine the three of us are free. That…that we’re happy again, like we were when we were little. Before she came along and messed it all up. All those years in that tower, and sometimes that thought was the only thing that made me feel sane…and the lights on my birthday. I know they’re not for me, but they come every year and sometimes I’d pretend someone sent them just for me, to remind me I wasn’t alone. That people were looking for me, too. It’s stupid—”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted quickly, his voice soft and hoarse. “I think it's a good dream. I—”

Feyre waited for Rhys to collect his thoughts, forcing herself not to turn, not to look at him. She knew whatever she saw would be her undoing.

“Do you need Avalon because you need a prince?” he asked her after a moment. “Do you need an army?”

Heart hammering in her chest, Feyre whispered, “Yes. Someone who can defeat Amarantha.”

“I see,” he murmured. “There are other princes in other realms—”

“None half as strong as the Vanserras, though,” Feyre protested, racking her brain for who he could possibly be thinking of. There was the rumored bastard prince of Illyria, of course, though Feyre assumed him to be little more than myth. A legendary warrior who’d managed to unite the mountainous people seemed more than she could ever hope for. The royal family of Velaris was gone, slaughtered by a vengeful uncle desperate for power. Scythia had a princess—maybe she’d become queen by then—and then Avalon. Everyone else was on other continents, too far to travel over treacherous waters Feyre wasn’t willing to risk.

“He has seven sons,” Feyre added.

“He’s dead,” Rhys told her, his voice finally convincing her to turn and look at him. “His eldest son now holds the kingdom. They say he’s…more forgiving…than his father. You might not need to marry anyone at all if you can offer him something he wants.”

Rhys was on his side, too, eyes bright even in the dark. The scent of him washed over her, dark and masculine from his bath. She wanted to touch him again. Wanted to scoot closer until his strong, muscular arms were wrapped around her.

Feyre didn’t budge. “What does he want?”

“You’ve got magic hair, right? Or blood…or…whatever it is about you?”

“I don’t want to be another pet,” she admitted. That had been her plan once, too.

“How is offering yourself up in marriage any different?” he questioned, a soft bite to his words. Feyre’s heart thudded angrily, her stomach flipping.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Rhys laughed bitterly. “Right. I have no idea what it means to sacrifice. At least I’m honest with myself, Feyre—”

“No, you don’t have any idea because you’re holding a ring for your true love. That’s a possibility for you, but it's not for me! While you’ve been out thieving your way through the five kingdoms, I’ve been a prisoner and this is my only shot to get my life back, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t care to get on my high horse and wax poetic about love and marriage.”

Rhys turned on his back, arms folded behind his head. “The princes of Avalon will be looking for high born women and princesses. Neither of which are you. Either way, you’ll have to tell them what you are if you want to secure their help, and you’ll end up their little toy.”

“So there is no happy ending for me, then?” Feyre asked, hating the way her voice warbled. Rhys turned to look, but she was already kicking off her blankets, unsure where she was even going. Far away from him—because this had been a mistake. Coming here, asking him to stay, thinking she could have peace. All of it.

“Feyre—”

“Shut up, Rhys,” she whispered, certain she was going to cry. Feyre reached under her pillow for his ring and threw it at his face, if only to distract him so she could quickly dress herself. “Just shut up.”

“Feyre!” he said again, her name a plea. He scrambled for it, while Feyre yanked her shirt and pants from the same chair her dress was draped over. That was just another silly dream. Thinking her life was going to turn into something more than just a girl trapped in a tower was a fantasy. Rhys was right. What did it matter if they knew the truth about her? They’d lock her away, too, and Feyre would trade one prison for another, even if it meant saving her sisters.

Rhys caught her before she made it to the door, fingers wrapping around her arms. “Don’t go,” he said, chest pressed to her own.

“I can make it the rest of the way. You have your ring back—”

“I made you a promise—”

“I’m freeing you of it. Go back to your life, I’ll go back to mine, and—”

Rhys lowered his face before Feyre could finish speaking, his lips brushing her tentatively. She froze, her heart exploding with excitement. No one had ever touched her like that before. His eyes found hers, big and wide like he, too, wasn’t sure what he was doing. Feyre didn’t know what to say.

But Rhys did. “I want to celebrate your birthday with you, Feyre.”

“I don’t think you need to be so close,” she replied, praying he wouldn’t move. Rhys reached for her face, callused fingers deliciously rough against her skin.

“I’m not close enough,” was his infuriating reply. “For the next two days, let me pretend you’re mine.”

“What—” Feyre never got to ask him what he meant by that. Rhys finished what he’d started, fingers curling in her hair to bring her closer and oh. He kissed her, mouth soft and warm contrasted against the roughness of the dark stubble gracing his jaw.

When had she reached for his broad, powerful shoulders, nails digging in his skin like he might vanish at any second. Rhys exhaled sharply, slotting his lips between her own and Feyre thought she might be floating. Dreaming, certainly, because this was far better than anything she could have possibly imagined.

Rhys grabbed her hip, yanking her into him and that was, she supposed, the moment the fight was over. There was no pretending she hated him, or was even mad at him. Feyre wanted him so badly she let him hold her closer, trying to get ahold of her thoughts just long enough to figure out what it was she wanted.

Beyond him, anyway. Because the world was reshaping itself around him, remade in his image. Rhys slid his tongue against her mouth, drawing a soft moan from her throat as he tasted her. Groaning, Feyre found herself pressed between his body and the door, grateful for the solid strength of them both. She might otherwise have melted into a pool of water on the floor.

“Stay with me, Feyre darling. Please. Get back into bed,” he whispered, forehead against her own. Rhys was breathing like he’d just run uphill for miles.

“Will you keep kissing me?” she asked, feeling shy for the first time in her life. Rhys smiled.

“I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I thought you knew that by now.”

Feyre smiled. “Two days, Rhys. That’s all I can give you.”

He kissed her again. “I’ll take it.”

RHYS:

Two days. Rhys had two days to figure out a way to convince Feyre not to go to Avalon, but to come back to Velaris with him. His plan had two parts, each more impossible than the last. Step one: tell her the truth. And step two? Make her fall in love with him.

Long after Feyre had grown too tired to kiss him with true enthusiasm, Rhys had plotted in his mind. What did he have? A torture artist and a bastard prince from Illyria and their combined armies, in exchange for sovereignty and a place in his court? And an enchantress he was hoping to make his wife. Who could complain if he showed up already married, Rhys reasoned? Feyre was powerful, with blood that could keep their armies going, that could fix the ails of his people. Surely his court would understand his reasoning.

And if he was successful, well…maybe it didn’t matter if they understood. Once that crown was on his head, he could strip anyone who disagreed with him of their titles, their lands—everything they cared about. He could send them all to the chopping block.

It seemed too daring to dream he could have his home and Feyre.

Two days. Rhys could do this. He woke wrapped around her body, slipping out before he could make a fool of himself, and returning with breakfast before she ever stirred. She needed the sleep and Rhys wanted to give her something she’d never had before.

Comfort.

He suspected she’d been taking care of herself her entire life. Rhys very much doubted Amarantha had lived up in that tower with her, raising her and keeping her safe. Feyre operated like a woman who’d had to learn independence young, eyes gleaming with distrust. So step one was merely taking care of her. Finding her clothes, bringing her food, showing her things he knew she’d never seen.

Injecting romance in the middle of them, so it was still courting. And then he’d bring her back to bed and show her what she meant to him with his lips and tongue and teeth. Barring that, if none of it worked, he’d merely get on his knees and beg. He wasn’t above it. Not anymore.

Not for her, anyway.

Feyre stirred, blanketed in her beautiful hair he was desperate to touch again. Rhys was sitting by the window for practical reasons—the mere sight of Feyre waking in the morning was enough to excite his cock. Laying beside her, arms wrapped around her? Rhys wasn’t convinced he could control himself. Sitting, fully dressed, was far safer. In his dreams, she came to him with those blazing eyes, lips parted, hands—

“Did you get breakfast?” she asked, pulling him out of his fantasy.

Rhys cleared his throat. “Yeah. Come eat with me.”

Or lay back down and let me eat you—

“Did you steal it?”

Rhys huffed. If only she knew. “No,” he offered truthfully, well aware she didn’t believe him. That knowing look on her face was all wrong, but still pretty as she clambered out of bed. Gathering up her hair, Feyre let it drape in her lap as she sat in her chair and Rhys had to remind himself to breathe.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and her mere presence made a mockery of him. Clenching his fingers to fists beneath the table, Rhys nodded at the food. “There are things I want to show you today.

“What kind of things?” she asked suspiciously. Rhys merely clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“You’ve spent your entire life in a tower. Let me show you a little bit of the world, Feyre.”

Those blue eyes of hers widened, pretty pink mouth forming a silent oh. Rhys felt a little too smug, having rendered her speechless. Smugger still when Feyre ate quickly, shoveling food in her mouth so she could slip into the bathroom and dress herself.

The clothes he’d picked out for her were a dream. The pants conformed to the curves of her lithe body, the white shirt clinging to her chest even when she’d tugged it from the band of her trousers in an attempt to hide her shape. Rhys watched her clasp the cloak around her neck before shoving her feet in the fur-lined boots. She’d be warm and, maybe, a little grateful?

Rhys was angling for a kiss.

“Ready?” he asked.

Feyre drank him in and he wondered if she didn’t see him for what he was right then. A liar of the tallest order, running from his destiny in order to show her around. Squashing that thought, Rhys took Feyre into the cold, silent when she leaned a little closer to leach some of his warmth. It would have been so easy to slide his arm around her body, to draw her against him.

She didn’t have that frying pan on her, so the likelihood of giving him a concussion was low, too.

But not impossible.

“What’s so important it couldn’t wait?” Feyre demanded, unable to hide the wonder on her beautiful face.

“The world, Feyre darling,” he replied, eyes glued to her face. “I want you to see the beauty you’ve missed.”

She gave him a look of skepticism—fair, given how the rain left a gray parlor over the world, creating a rather unappealing slush over the roads and buildings. The sun overhead would dry some of it up, but right there, on the curb outside their tavern, the world must have looked just as it always had to her.

A bolt of yearning slammed into Rhys as he began leading her toward the best part of the town. He wanted to show Feyre his home. He wanted her to see snow-capped mountains and lush valleys dotted with spring flowers. Rhys wanted her to dip her feet in the clear water of the Sidra, to see Velaris in the Summer when traveling playwrights put on shows in the entertainment district. He wanted her to taste the food, to learn their dances and songs, to crown her in their jewels and make love to her at night.

Rhys knew it was a fool's errand, because Feyre’s dream was going home—the same as Rhys’s. He couldn’t bring her home for a million reasons he’d already outline and yet he thought he’d die if he didn’t. He had to. He’d like, make her a princess of some sliver of land the lords had forgotten about. Maybe he’d change his agreement with Cassian, demanding he declare her nobility and marrying her would unite them in a tangible way that somehow benefited them both.

Or he’d do what he already wanted to—murder anyone who opposed him, start a new court, and marry Feyre anyway.

Of course, Feyre would have to agree to it, and Rhys still had no army he could promise her. Not without betraying his home—because what kind of king gave his army to a woman he just met so she could battle an immortal witch? How could he show his face before his people, knowing he’d left them to rot in service to his own feelings?

It was so damn unfair.

Rhys spun himself up in knots trying to find some solution, nearly missing the first thing he wanted to show Feyre. She, blissfully unaware of the plotting she was doing on her behalf, kept close enough their fingers kept brushing.

“There are so many people,” she breathed, her words a mingled mixture of awe and fear. “I’ve never seen this many people before.”

Of course not. As the sun rose overhead, more people spilled into the streets to conduct their daily business. Instinctively, Rhys grabbed Feyre’s hand before he thought better of it. A beat passed between them, long enough for her to yank back if she wanted.

Instead, Feyre laced her fingers between his own, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Rhys exhaled softly, trying to keep himself calm.

“This way,” he murmured, pulling her off the main road toward a glittering fountain he’d always found rather lovely. The statue itself was nothing special—two faeries, with wings carved lovingly of marble that had once been white but now was blue, intertwined in a lovers embrace. The water poured from their open mouths, creating a rainbow of color to spill against the gathered pool. It felt like magic, even now that Rhys was a man and not a boy, seeing it for the first time while clutching his mothers hand.

“They say if you make a wish to the lovers and toss a coin, the gods will grant it. People come from far and wide to make their dreams a reality.” He procured a coin from his pocket, offering it up to her. Feyre eyed it skeptically, sliding her hand from his. “What kind of luck could a stolen coin have?”

“It’s not stolen, darling,” he replied, wishing he could tell her the truth. “Make a wish.”

“Will you make one, too?”

He hadn’t intended to. There was no amount of wishing that could give Rhys what he wanted right then, because Feyre wasn’t something so easily bought. Rhys could scheme until his heart was content and Feyre would likely still walk away from him. It didn’t stop him, though.

Keep us together—let her love me, too.

Rhys flipped his coin, watching it splash into the water before it settled to the bottom. Feyre tossed hers just behind his, biting her lower lip. “What did you wish for?” she asked him, inclining her neck to look. Rhys flicked her nose, earning another of those endearing scowls.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”

“How does that make sense?” she demanded, yanking her hand away when Rhys reached for it.

Exasperated, he replied, “That’s just the rule.”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“Tell me, then,” Rhys said, curious what she’d wished for.

Color bloomed over her cheeks. “No.”

“Not that stupid, then,” he teased, bumping her with his arm. Feyre offered the faintest hint of a smile, causing his heart to stutter in his chest.

More, he thought. I want more of that look. “What else is there?”

Rhys grinned unabashed. “Come with me.”

It was nightfall by the time they settled in, choosing a table over a wide bridge that arched against a glittering, violet river. The smell wasn’t great, and the wine was cheap, but Feyre didn’t seem to notice either. It wasn’t starfall yet—merely a prelude. He’d paid a little extra of money he really couldn’t afford to lose, in order to procure two little lanterns and tools they’d need to light them and send them toward the heavens.

“For the souls we’ve lost,” he explained to her when he’d been paying the street merchant. “The lanterns guide their way back.”

After that, it was merely waiting for things to get dark enough. They weren’t the only ones counting down the minutes. Parents gathered along the edge, their children laughing and hollering, playing some game only they knew the rules to. Feyre watched a couple holding hands, the woman whispering something into the ear of her grinning partner. Rhys wished that was them when they stood, paper lanterns in hand.

“Here,” he murmured, holding a lit match. Feyre let him, blue eyes big and reverent as he lit the flame. He was quick to do his own before burning his fingers.

“Now what?”

Around them, little silver and blue lanterns began floating upward. Rhys demonstrated silently, sending his lantern upward for his lost mother and sister and father. Come back safely, he thought silently. I’ll be waiting for you.

Feyre did the same, eyes big and bright and gods, Rhys was about to do something stupid. Something she’d asked him to do, right? Keep kissing me, she’d said. “What do you think?” he asked, grateful she was unaware of how he was crowding her space.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” she replied.

“Yes,” he agreed, unable to tear his gaze from that look on her face. It wasn’t a smile—not really. But it was soft and beautiful, tying him up in knots. Rhys slid his finger under her chin, delighted when she blinked, looking at him.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered, giving her enough time to hit him if she wanted.

“Why would you do that?” she replied, lips parted. Rhys drank her in, savoring this moment and this time with her. He was going to lose her soon and he wanted to remember her exactly as she was.

“Because you’re beautiful.” Because I’m in love with you.

“Oh,” she breathed.

That was all the permission Rhys needed. Lowering his mouth until they were sharing a breath, he brushed his lips against her own. Feyre shuddered, fingers digging into his shoulders as though she needed to steady herself. Rhys understood that well—the world had tilted all at once, pushing him closer to her.

In retrospect, he realized it was just someone brimming with too much excitement that shoved against him, ending their little dance. Feyre inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering shut mere moments before his own. She melted into the arms he’d slid around her body, holding her close. Feyre smelled like violets and pears, like something familiar and lost to him all at once.

Feyre tasted like home. He could see it behind his eyelids like he was standing at the base of those three peaks that marked his territory. And he could see her, crowned in starlight, grinning ear to ear as she urged him to join her.

Rhys broke away with a gasp. “Feyre,” he breathed, resisting the urge to fall to his knees. She looked up at him, eyes hazy and dark. It was different than before, he thought wildly. That first kiss had been borne of panic, of the thought he might lose her but this? This was pure want, it was need.

It was love.

“Should…should we go back?” she asked, biting that plush, lower lip.

Rhys nearly groaned.

“Yes,” he replied, reaching for her hand. Feyre let him take it, drawing close as wintry wind whipped around them, trying so hard to pull them out of this realm and into another. Rhys swore, right then and there, that he’d figure out a way to keep them together. That Feyre wouldn’t end up in the clutches of the Vanserra’s and their vulgar, ugly sons. That her life would be easy—soft.

He swore, with the gods overhead as his witness, that he’d make her a queen.

#feysand #pro feysand #we're getting somewhere now

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paradiqms · 11 months

Text

(8) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 4.5k

currently, eight out of ?

previous.

“are you sure we’re going to the right place?”

“yes.” your answer to the tall navigator comes out rather irritated, a tired sigh escaping your lips. the navigator–yunho, you remember–spares you a quick glance from his spot by the ship’s steering wheel, the way that his hands grip onto the handles a little tighter than before going unnoticed by your eyes.

“if you say so,” yunho shrugs. “i just think it’s a bit odd that we have to stop at eridanus out of all places.”

“surely it can’t be that bad.” you frown, opting to move your gaze away from the horizon of endless blue sea in front of you to stare at yunho’s side profile. the early morning sunshine seems to compliment his features extremely well, and you can’t help but wonder how it seems like he doesn’t have any fatigue clinging onto his face even when he had stayed up the entire night to steer the ship along its new course.

“for a queen like you? surely.” the navigator mirrors your frown, prompting you to roll your eyes. “i’ve been to eridanus before, and it is that bad.”

from yunho’s words, you can’t help but turn your gaze downwards in realization. you’ve been cooped up in your palace for the past six years, never stepping a foot out of pyxis grounds even when your presence was requested by the rulers of other lands. you’ve only ever heard of eridanus from the official letters they’ve sent – ones that counted so little, the existence of the whole kingdom would slip out of mind sometimes.

however, you think that’s exactly what they would prefer. your knowledge of the kingdom may be limited, but you’re aware that the king and queen of eridanus enjoy keeping to themselves – a fact that’s still a mystery to you on exactly why.

oh well, you think. guess i’ll find out when we get there.

“… i see.” you mutter. “but the map wants us to go there, so all we can do is comply.”

yunho’s eyes drift from looking forward to stare at the aging map that you’re currently holding, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from questioning your sudden agreement to helping him decipher the piece of parchment. one could only imagine his bewilderment when you came up to him several hours earlier in the dead of night, asking for the map that was previously shoved into the pocket of his jacket. the navigator, although secretly thrilled that you finally came to your senses, was still quite doubtful as he handed to map to you.

would you really read it? are you truly about to help them? or are you going to rip the map into pieces again before tossing it into the sea? yunho’s mind raced with questions, ones that only multiplied when you unrolled the map and told him to set sail for eridanus a few moments later. he had stared at you as if you were out of your mind, but you simply stared back with not a single hint of hesitancy nor deceit in your eyes.

so he complied. yunho asked for you to stay by his side for the night and act as his guide while he steers the ship, since he obviously wasn’t able to read the map, and you agreed. he thinks it was rather comical to see you try and keep yourself awake to keep him on track, but he was grateful for your help nonetheless.

“we should be arriving before noon,” yunho provides before lifting his gaze from the map in your hands up to your face, the smallest glint of mischief twinkling in his eyes as he voices out the next sentence. “would you be so kind and help me inform the captain?”

now it’s your turn to stare at the navigator as if he’s out of his mind.

“you know i won’t be able to read the map anymore if i’m dead, right?” you scowl, receiving an entertained chortle from yunho.

“i’m sure captain is very aware of that too,” you notice how the ends of yunho’s lips twitch upwards as if he’s holding himself back from laughing, and your scowl only deepens. “he won’t kill you, your highness.”

“your captain pointed his gun to my head and threatened to cut my tongue off,” you explain. “i am not going anywhere near him.”

“if he wanted you dead, he would’ve killed you long ago.” yunho tilts his head over to look at you with an eyebrow raised. “unless you want to steer the ship while i go tell him myself?”

the thought of steering a huge pirate ship with not the smallest idea on how to even grip the handles properly makes you choke on your own saliva.

“are you mad?” you accuse. “i would sink this ship in mere minutes.”

“then go inform the captain that we’ll be arriving in eridanus soon.” yunho goes back to looking at the horizon in front of him, and through his peripheral vision, he can see how you basically wilt in defeat.

“fine,” you groan, begrudgingly kicking yourself off the side of the ship where you were previously leaning against. “but if i don’t return in ten minutes then it would be safest to assume that your captain placed a bullet in my head.”

“duly noted, your excellency.”

you scoff at the obvious sarcasm in yunho’s voice, making your way towards the captain’s quarters by the other end of the vessel. soon enough, you come to face the wooden door that led to the captain’s private room, and you hesitate for a moment before gently knocking.

the sound of your anxious heart beating loudly against your chest was akin to a clock ticking away as you continue to stand silently in front of the door, waiting for a proper invitation to come inside.

nothing happens.

you let out a heavy sigh. the thought of simply barging in without permission doesn’t seem very appealing to you, but you can feel your patience running thinner with each second you’re left waiting outside the door.

“oh, to hell with it.” you groan, deciding to knock thrice on the door but with more force this time. when nothing happens again, you suck in a deep breath, place your hand on the cold handle of the door before twisting it clockwise, and slowly pushing the door open.

the moment you open the wooden door and step into the dark, silent room, you’re hit with a flurry of emotions that you can’t seem to describe – but what’s certain is the sudden ache in your chest that you thought you wouldn’t feel anymore.

the room smells just like him. it obviously would, you think to yourself, since it is hisprivate room. you notice how it’s incredibly spacious, complete with two bookshelves situated by the walls on one end of the room and a wide table in between said bookshelves. there are windows placed on the wall behind the table, the only source of natural lighting within the otherwise dark and gloomy room. the table seems to be where the captain does most of his work, judging by the array of papers and other sorts of stationary.

despite the furnishings that simply scream captain of a pirate crew, you can’t help yourself but be reminded of the small, humble room that once belonged to a kind poet, whose decorations only consisted of handwritten letter and poems he would paste on the walls.

stark differences, but the scent has always been the same. you think it’s physically impossible for you to forget it.

you take in another deep breath before slowly exhaling in attempt to bring yourself out of your own mind and to ignore the ache in your chest. with light steps, you invite yourself into the spacious quarters before slowly closing the door, and you notice the human shaped lump under the sheets of the queen sized bed that’s neatly placed in the other end of the room.

oh, you muse with the smallest smile on your lips. he’s sleeping. now wonder he didn’t answer the door.

you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you make your way closer, stopping once you’re standing next to the bed. hongjoong has himself laying on his side and facing away from you – which is good, you think, because you probably won’t be able to stop yourself from thinking about the way his face looks like while he’s asleep.

as you silently stare at the captain, you make a mental reminder to curse yunho out for making you do this, even when it’s not going how you thought it would. you had expected to be greeted with the sight of a gun’s barrel to your head when you entered the room – yet here you are, gazing at hongjoong’s sleeping figure with a tight chest and a mind that’s wandering to six years ago.

you’re quickly dragged out of your thoughts and back into the present when a familiar gruffy voice reaches your eyes.

“are you just going to stand there all day?” hongjoong rasps out, his morning voice sending another wave of remembrance into your trembling heart.

“… you’re awake?” you murmur, and you can hear how the captain scoffs at your words.

“i heard your loud footsteps even before you decided to barge into my room.” the captain oh-so-kindly informs. you’re unable to stop the embarrassment crawl onto your face in the shades of deep red, and you clear your throat in attempt to keep your composure.

“right,” you say after a quick moment. “i apologize… for coming in without permission.”

hongjoong stays silent for a while, and your fingers play with the edge of your shirt nervously as you wait for him to answer.

“what do you want?” he asks soon enough. “it better be important.”

you’re reminded of the initial reason for your unannounced visit, and you can’t seem to construct the proper sentence. most, if not all, of your interactions with hongjoong ever since you reunited with him had been arguments and insults – this might be the first normal conversation you’ve had with him, and you really don’t know how to act.

“uh,” you stutter, pinching yourself afterwards for being so stiff. “yunho sent me to inform you that we will be arriving in eridanus soon.”

the way hongjoong’s figure seems to shift doesn’t go unnoticed by you. it’s as if he’s surprised by the information you had just conveyed, and he wanted to turn around to face you but quickly decided not to.

if your thoughts are correct, you’re glad he decided against it. you’re not confident in yourself enough to stay composed if you were to see his features when he just woke up – relaxed, without a hint of hatred or annoyance that you’ve gotten used to seeing on him whenever he sees you.

“tell yunho,” hongjoong begins. “that he’s an idiot that has gone crazy, and tell him to set sail somewhere else. we are not docking in eridanus.”

you frown at the captain’s words. is the kingdom of eridanus truly that bad?

“but the map specifically showed me that–”

“you read it?” the speed in which hongjoong turns around to face you catches you off guard, his eyes seemingly fully awake now as he stares at you with something similar to surprise.

“…yes.” you nod. there’s a strong urge to turn around and look away from the captain, but you can’t seem to listen to yourself as you’re frozen in place, as if hongjoong’s gaze had casted a spell on you.

the captain seems to have caught on to his mistake quickly. you notice the way his face falls in realization, and he clears his throat before shifting to sit up properly by the edge of the bed. his hair is a mess, you note, dark strands poking out in random directions – and you don’t stop yourself from smiling at the sight.

“sorry,” you cover your mouth to muffle the quite laughter when hongjoong raises a curious eyebrow at your sudden change in expression. “it’s just your morning hair. it’s kinda, uhm – everywhere.”

hongjoong feels the tip of his ears get hot when your words are finally registered in his slow morning brain, and he quickly runs a hand over his hair in attempt to straighten out any of the strands that aren’t where they’re supposed to be. the sound of your entertained giggles makes him groan in embarrassment before he tilts his head up to send you a glare from his spot on the edge of the bed.

“of course it’s everywhere,” the captain mutters as he tries to defend his dignity. “you were the one who rudely woke me up from my slumber, and now you’re laughing at me.”

“sorry, sorry.” you apologize, doing your best to stop yourself from laughing even more at the sight of an embarrassed hongjoong trying to fix his hair. “i yield.”

the captain simply scoffs at your response, but there’s an upwards quirk on the edge of his lips as he takes in the sight of your smile and the sound of your laughter. before this, it was all frowns and glares with a few tears slipped in between whenever he was around your presence, so to see you loosen up in this moment makes his heart squeeze.

“you’re ridiculous,” hongjoong shakes his head. “but if the map wants us in eridanus, then so be it. we will discuss further once we dock.”

“aye, captain.” you mock salute, earning yourself another lighthearted scoff from hongjoong. he shoos you away with a motion of his hand and you promptly comply, stepping away from your previous spot next to his bed and making your way towards the wooden door.

just as you’re halfway through the door, you decide to turn around and look back at hongjoong whose eyes you catch to be already staring at you. neither of you say anything for a few moments, but none is needed, because all you do is send a smile at the captain’s direction before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you.

once you’re out of his sight, hongjoong is convinced that he never woke up in the first place and that everything that had just happened is a dream – or a nightmare? he can’t decide. it felt like a dream by the way you had smiled at him, an act that he thought he would never receive from you anymore since he has long deemed himself to be unworthy of such kindness from you, but you still did it.

and yet, it also felt like a nightmare, because he knows that whatever happened shouldn’t have happened at all. the laughter, your smile, the easiness that seeped into his chest and lifted all his worries away – they shouldn’t have happened, you and him shouldn’t have happened, none of it should have happened. but it did, and that’s what felt so nightmarish to him.

because he knows, like how he knows the sky is blue and the grass is green, that the saint and the sinner are not meant to be.

hongjoong frowns as he sits silently by the edge of his bed. the many thoughts he had about you somehow managed to drown out the fact that his crew have to dock at eridanus out of all places, and the reminder is enough to make him groan in frustration.

for the first time in a while, hongjoong feels like something bad is about to happen.

arriving in eridanus comes before noon, just as how yunho had predicted, and you’re quick to catch on to why the navigator and the captain had such negative views on the kingdom.

the moment you stepped off the vessel alongside the rest of the crew and begin your journey on foot towards the kingdom, the first thing you noticed was how beautiful the lands are. the landscape consists of more bodies of water than you’ve ever seen (or rather, heard) in other places, rivers and lakes accompanying the lush greenery that surrounded the outskirts of the kingdom. around half an hour into your journey, you had encountered a waterfall, and to say that you were amazed is an understatement – you were entranced.

the others? not so much. you were curious as to why they decided to take the longer path around the waterfall just to not cross it, but you took the opportunity to venture out for a quick minute to get closer.

unfortunately for you, seonghwa was quick to stop you by grabbing onto your wrist and dragging you back.

“rule number one while we’re in eridanus,” the blond pirates whispered. “we never, ever go near the water. especially waterfalls and lakes.”

“…why?” you whispered back, even when you had no idea on why the two of you were conversing in such a hushed manner.

“sirens.” seonghwa turned to look at you, urgency in his eyes that almost made your heart drop. “eridanus is basically infested with them. it’s best to stay away from any bodies of water here.”

“sirens?” you had questioned in disbelief. “i thought they only lived in the ocean.”

“… we did too.” seonghwa responded, and you noticed how his face fell as he stared forward. you wanted to pry some more, but quickly decided not to. the way seonghwa kept quiet afterwards with his face still solemn was enough to tell you that the crew definitely had some bad experiences.

if the fact that the kingdom is crawling with deadly sirens wasn’t enough for you to hate the kingdom as much as the rest of the crew does, then the absolute graveyard equivalent of the kingdom’s atmosphere definitely did it for you.

you were able to see the castle from miles away, but what caught your attention were the tall walls surrounding the kingdom that probably reached over 30 meters in height – and around the wall is a wide, deep moat.

“don’t look down.” hongjoong had warned as you and the rest of the crew stepped onto the wooden bridge that led towards the main gate. for the others, it was easy to comply with their captain’s warning, but you? it was hard for you to ignore the splashing that came from the waters in the moat, and you swear upon the stars that you could hear someone calling out for you in a hauntingly melodic voice.

the walk across the bridge left your knees shaking by the end of it, and seonghwa flashed you a quick smile as if to congratulate you for not looking down and getting yourself killed.

once you walked pass the main gate, you instantly noticed how… dead the people looked.

“gloomy as ever,” you hear yunho comment. “i hope we get out of here soon.”

“we will,” hongjoong turns around from his spot at the front of the group to face everyone. “as soon as we finish our work here, which will be discussed tonight after i find us a place to stay. in the meantime, feel free to walk around within safe distance. don’t go anywhere alone.”

hongjoong’s eyes seem to avert their attention to you as he said the last sentence, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it’s meant for.

“we will gather in the town square during sunset.” the captain announces one more time, and the rest of the crew give their nods as a sign of apprehension. as the group disperses, seonghwa leaves your side to walk over to hongjoong, presumably to accompany him on finding somewhere for the crew to spend their nights at. once he leaves with his captain, a familiar red head approaches you.

“wanna go explore with us?” wooyoung offers with a hopeful smile. “san and i are going café hopping.”

“boring,” another voice interrupts, and you notice it’s the bright orange haired guy who you never got the chance to meet properly before. “yunho and i will be bar hopping. wanna join us, princess?”

“she’s a queen, mingi.” san promptly corrects, earning himself a hard glare from the other pirate – mingi, you note. “at least get your facts right before trying to steal her from us.”

“same thing!” mingi huffs, and you fight the urge to chuckle.

“actually,” you speak up, earning the attention of the others. “i do feel like having some pastries right now.”

“hah!” wooyoung claps once and reaches out to grab your hand, dragging you over to stand in between him and san. “knew you’d be faithful. yunho and mingi won’t treat you right.”

“you’re just glad someone else other than san actually likes you.” yunho bites back with a teasing smile. wooyoung places a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically before turning away from the tall duo.

“i can’t be around these drunkards anymore, let’s go.” the red headed pirate drags you away from yunho and mingi, san following closely from behind. you turn around to give the other two a quick wave goodbye before catching up with wooyoung’s speed walking.

you’re rather grateful for the enthusiasm that basically leaks out of the two pirates accompanying you, because you think you’d be so easily influenced by the other townsfolk within the kingdom. wooyoung lets go of your hand after a moment, although you don’t react to it since you’re too busy staring at the people around you. the sluggish manner in the way they walk pass you makes you frown, the lack of enjoyment in their faces even for the children making you feel uneasy.

you also feel like something is missing in the kingdom, but you can’t figure out exactly what. it feels important, you think, something that has been present within your own kingdom before and within cygnus, but not here.

you don’t notice the way that you’ve been spacing out until you feel yourself bump against someone, and you’re quick to get back your senses.

“oh, i’m sorry.” you apologize hurriedly. “i wasn’t paying attention to where i was going.”

the person you bumped into doesn’t say anything, and your heart pounds nervously within the confines of your chest. had you accidentally made them upset? you can’t afford getting in trouble now, the others would kill you for not being careful – especially the captain.

“don’t worry,” the person responds, and your ears perk up from how nice his voice sounds. “i do not mind.”

you tilt your head up to offer an appreciative smile at the stranger, but you’re immediately taken aback from his looks – not in the bad way, but in fact in the best way, if that even exists. the stranger has a cloak over his head, one that’s quite similar to yours, and his features seem so incredibly soft yet so sculptured, it makes him look like a living, breathing statue. you notice how there’s some kind of a birthmark that starts by the edge of his eye and spreads towards his temple.

“miss?” the stranger tilts his head at you. embarrassed over the fact that you were shameless staring at a stranger, you step back once with a nervous laugh.

“ah, i’m sorry again–” you mutter. “it’s just, uh, i like your birthmark. it’s pretty.”

complimenting strangers now, are we? you mentally ridicule yourself. you feel like running away somewhere to hide and never emerge.

“… is that so?” the stranger seems to be surprised by your words. “you’re not from around here, are you?”

“uhm,” you stutter, trying to figure out on how to respond properly. “no, i’m not. i’m just a, uh, travelling merchant!”

you plaster on a wide smile, one that you hope doesn’t look far too fake. the stranger nods once before deciding to question you again.

“i see. where do you come from?”

“py–” you cut yourself off just in time. “... cygnus. i’m from cygnus.”

you’re unsure why, but a part of yourself doesn’t think that introducing yourself to hail from pyxis would be a good idea – especially when eridanus probably already heard the news of the missing queen.

the stranger simply stares at you for a few quiet moments. you can feel the palm of your hands getting clammy, and you’re beginning to wonder where the hell wooyoung and san have gone to.

“i see,” the stranger finally speaks, a gentle smile forming on his face. “then i welcome you warmly to eridanus.”

“… thank you.” you mutter. “it’s been lovely so far.”

the lie goes straight through your teeth so easily that you almost feel like you’re telling the truth – which is far from being the case. before the stranger could say anything else, you feel someone grabbing onto the sleeve of your shirt before linking their arm with yours.

“honey, there you are!” san exclaims enthusiastically, and you jolt in surprise. “i’ve been looking everywhere for you. didn’t i tell you to not go alone anywhere?”

you feel a muscle on your face twitch after the dark haired pirate says the last sentence, but you decide to play along just for the sake of it.

“i’m sorry, i must have spaced out and accidentally went somewhere else.” you give san a tight-lipped smile, one that he responds by narrowing his eyes.

“that’s alright, i understand.” the pirate smiles back before turning his attention to the cloaked stranger.

“i’m sorry if she has caused any trouble, we’ll be on our way now.” san offers a quick bow towards the stranger, who responds well with a bow of his own. san doesn’t waste another minute before dragging you away with him, and you merely allow yourself to be dragged off.

“… your highness?” a familiar voice speaks up from behind the cloaked stranger, who merely sighs in response.

“jongho, have i not told you to drop the formalities when we’re alone?”

“right,” jongho clears his throat. “your– ah, i mean, yeosang.”

“there you go,” yeosang smiles gently at the other young man as he turns around to face him. “what is it?”

“those two outlanders earlier,” jongho furrows his eyebrows, as if disturbed by the mere mention. “they’re hiding something. i don’t trust them.”

yeosang hums. there’s definitely something amiss with the pair he had just encountered, there’s no doubt about it – but a side of him doesn’t want it to be true, if there’s truly something off about them, especially the woman.

suddenly, yeosang feels like his birthmark is burning into his skin.

pretty, huh? the dark haired man recalls your words with a heavy heart. his birthmark has been called all sorts of names before – ugly, repulsive, weird, unfitting for a prince, cursed.

but never pretty.

it’s probably the fact that you’re an outlander makes you oblivious to the fact that his birthmark is anything but pretty, yet yeosang still feels like he’s lightheaded from your words.

“… just keep an eye on them,” yeosang sighs, keeping his eyes casted downwards. “if they really are up to something, report to me first. understood?”

“yes, your highness.” jongho nods, deciding to ignore the way yeosang frowns at the way he went back to using formalities with him.

as the young prince lifts his head to gaze into the sea of people, his people, he can’t help the growing guilt in his chest. he hopes that no one else shall fall victim and have their blood spilt on eridanus grounds.

next.

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