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yeoldenews · 3 months

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A Guide to Historically Accurate Regency-Era Names

I recently received a message from a historical romance writer asking if I knew any good resources for finding historically accurate Regency-era names for their characters.

Not knowing any off the top of my head, I dug around online a bit and found there really isn’t much out there. The vast majority of search results were Buzzfeed-style listicles which range from accurate-adjacent to really, really, really bad.

I did find a few blog posts with fairly decent name lists, but noticed that even these have very little indication as to each name’s relative popularity as those statistical breakdowns really don't exist.

I began writing up a response with this information, but then I (being a research addict who was currently snowed in after a blizzard) thought hey - if there aren’t any good resources out there why not make one myself?

As I lacked any compiled data to work from, I had to do my own data wrangling on this project. Due to this fact, I limited the scope to what I thought would be the most useful for writers who focus on this era, namely - people of a marriageable age living in the wealthiest areas of London.

So with this in mind - I went through period records and compiled the names of 25,000 couples who were married in the City of Westminster (which includes Mayfair, St. James and Hyde Park) between 1804 to 1821.

So let’s see what all that data tells us…

To begin - I think it’s hard for us in the modern world with our wide and varied abundance of first names to conceive of just how POPULAR popular names of the past were.

If you were to take a modern sample of 25-year-old (born in 1998) American women, the most common name would be Emily with 1.35% of the total population. If you were to add the next four most popular names (Hannah, Samantha, Sarah and Ashley) these top five names would bring you to 5.5% of the total population. (source: Social Security Administration)

If you were to do the same survey in Regency London - the most common name would be Mary with 19.2% of the population. Add the next four most popular names (Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah and Jane) and with just 5 names you would have covered 62% of all women.

To hit 62% of the population in the modern survey it would take the top 400 names.

The top five Regency men’s names (John, William, Thomas, James and George) have nearly identical statistics as the women’s names.

I struggled for the better part of a week with how to present my findings, as a big list in alphabetical order really fails to get across the popularity factor and also isn’t the most tumblr-compatible format. And then my YouTube homepage recommended a random video of someone ranking all the books they’d read last year - and so I present…

The Regency Name Popularity Tier List

The Tiers

S+ - 10% of the population or greater. There is no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. 52% of the population had one of these 7 names.

S - 2-10%. There is still no modern equivalent to this level of popularity. Names in this percentage range in the past have included Mary and William in the 1880s and Jennifer in the late 1970s (topped out at 4%).

A - 1-2%. The top five modern names usually fall in this range. Kids with these names would probably include their last initial in class to avoid confusion. (1998 examples: Emily, Sarah, Ashley, Michael, Christopher, Brandon.)

B - .3-1%. Very common names. Would fall in the top 50 modern names. You would most likely know at least 1 person with these names. (1998 examples: Jessica, Megan, Allison, Justin, Ryan, Eric)

C - .17-.3%. Common names. Would fall in the modern top 100. You would probably know someone with these names, or at least know of them. (1998 examples: Chloe, Grace, Vanessa, Sean, Spencer, Seth)

D - .06-.17%. Less common names. In the modern top 250. You may not personally know someone with these names, but you’re aware of them. (1998 examples: Faith, Cassidy, Summer, Griffin, Dustin, Colby)

E - .02-.06%. Uncommon names. You’re aware these are names, but they are not common. Unusual enough they may be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Calista, Skye, Precious, Fabian, Justice, Lorenzo)

F - .01-.02%. Rare names. You may have heard of these names, but you probably don’t know anyone with one. Extremely unusual, and would likely be remarked upon. (1998 examples: Emerald, Lourdes, Serenity, Dario, Tavian, Adonis)

G - Very rare names. There are only a handful of people with these names in the entire country. You’ve never met anyone with this name.

H - Virtually non-existent. Names that theoretically could have existed in the Regency period (their original source pre-dates the early 19th century) but I found fewer than five (and often no) period examples of them being used in Regency England. (Example names taken from romance novels and online Regency name lists.)

Just to once again reinforce how POPULAR popular names were before we get to the tier lists - statistically, in a ballroom of 100 people in Regency London: 80 would have names from tiers S+/S. An additional 15 people would have names from tiers A/B and C. 4 of the remaining 5 would have names from D/E. Only one would have a name from below tier E.

Women's Names

S+ Mary, Elizabeth, Ann, Sarah

S - Jane, Mary Ann+, Hannah, Susannah, Margaret, Catherine, Martha, Charlotte, Maria

A - Frances, Harriet, Sophia, Eleanor, Rebecca

B - Alice, Amelia, Bridget~, Caroline, Eliza, Esther, Isabella, Louisa, Lucy, Lydia, Phoebe, Rachel, Susan

C - Ellen, Fanny*, Grace, Henrietta, Hester, Jemima, Matilda, Priscilla

D - Abigail, Agnes, Amy, Augusta, Barbara, Betsy*, Betty*, Cecilia, Christiana, Clarissa, Deborah, Diana, Dinah, Dorothy, Emily, Emma, Georgiana, Helen, Janet^, Joanna, Johanna, Judith, Julia, Kezia, Kitty*, Letitia, Nancy*, Ruth, Winifred>

E - Arabella, Celia, Charity, Clara, Cordelia, Dorcas, Eve, Georgina, Honor, Honora, Jennet^, Jessie*^, Joan, Joyce, Juliana, Juliet, Lavinia, Leah, Margery, Marian, Marianne, Marie, Mercy, Miriam, Naomi, Patience, Penelope, Philadelphia, Phillis, Prudence, Rhoda, Rosanna, Rose, Rosetta, Rosina, Sabina, Selina, Sylvia, Theodosia, Theresa

F - (selected) Alicia, Bethia, Euphemia, Frederica, Helena, Leonora, Mariana, Millicent, Mirah, Olivia, Philippa, Rosamund, Sybella, Tabitha, Temperance, Theophila, Thomasin, Tryphena, Ursula, Virtue, Wilhelmina

G - (selected) Adelaide, Alethia, Angelina, Cassandra, Cherry, Constance, Delilah, Dorinda, Drusilla, Eva, Happy, Jessica, Josephine, Laura, Minerva, Octavia, Parthenia, Theodora, Violet, Zipporah

H - Alberta, Alexandra, Amber, Ashley, Calliope, Calpurnia, Chloe, Cressida, Cynthia, Daisy, Daphne, Elaine, Eloise, Estella, Lilian, Lilias, Francesca, Gabriella, Genevieve, Gwendoline, Hermione, Hyacinth, Inez, Iris, Kathleen, Madeline, Maude, Melody, Portia, Seabright, Seraphina, Sienna, Verity

Men's Names

S+ John, William, Thomas

S - James, George, Joseph, Richard, Robert, Charles, Henry, Edward, Samuel

A - Benjamin, (Mother’s/Grandmother’s maiden name used as first name)#

B - Alexander^, Andrew, Daniel, David>, Edmund, Francis, Frederick, Isaac, Matthew, Michael, Patrick~, Peter, Philip, Stephen, Timothy

C - Abraham, Anthony, Christopher, Hugh>, Jeremiah, Jonathan, Nathaniel, Walter

D - Adam, Arthur, Bartholomew, Cornelius, Dennis, Evan>, Jacob, Job, Josiah, Joshua, Lawrence, Lewis, Luke, Mark, Martin, Moses, Nicholas, Owen>, Paul, Ralph, Simon

E - Aaron, Alfred, Allen, Ambrose, Amos, Archibald, Augustin, Augustus, Barnard, Barney, Bernard, Bryan, Caleb, Christian, Clement, Colin, Duncan^, Ebenezer, Edwin, Emanuel, Felix, Gabriel, Gerard, Gilbert, Giles, Griffith, Harry*, Herbert, Humphrey, Israel, Jabez, Jesse, Joel, Jonas, Lancelot, Matthias, Maurice, Miles, Oliver, Rees, Reuben, Roger, Rowland, Solomon, Theophilus, Valentine, Zachariah

F - (selected) Abel, Barnabus, Benedict, Connor, Elijah, Ernest, Gideon, Godfrey, Gregory, Hector, Horace, Horatio, Isaiah, Jasper, Levi, Marmaduke, Noah, Percival, Shadrach, Vincent

G - (selected) Albion, Darius, Christmas, Cleophas, Enoch, Ethelbert, Gavin, Griffin, Hercules, Hugo, Innocent, Justin, Maximilian, Methuselah, Peregrine, Phineas, Roland, Sebastian, Sylvester, Theodore, Titus, Zephaniah

H - Albinus, Americus, Cassian, Dominic, Eric, Milo, Rollo, Trevor, Tristan, Waldo, Xavier

# Men were sometimes given a family surname (most often their mother's or grandmother's maiden name) as their first name - the most famous example of this being Fitzwilliam Darcy. If you were to combine all surname-based first names as a single 'name' this is where the practice would rank.

*Rank as a given name, not a nickname

+If you count Mary Ann as a separate name from Mary - Mary would remain in S+ even without the Mary Anns included

~Primarily used by people of Irish descent

^Primarily used by people of Scottish descent

>Primarily used by people of Welsh descent

I was going to continue on and write about why Regency-era first names were so uniform, discuss historically accurate surnames, nicknames, and include a little guide to finding 'unique' names that are still historically accurate - but this post is already very, very long, so that will have to wait for a later date.

If anyone has any questions/comments/clarifications in the meantime feel free to message me.

Methodology notes: All data is from marriage records covering six parishes in the City of Westminster between 1804 and 1821. The total sample size was 50,950 individuals.

I chose marriage records rather than births/baptisms as I wanted to focus on individuals who were adults during the Regency era rather than newborns. I think many people make the mistake when researching historical names by using baby name data for the year their story takes place rather than 20 to 30 years prior, and I wanted to avoid that. If you are writing a story that takes place in 1930 you don’t want to research the top names for 1930, you need to be looking at 1910 or earlier if you are naming adult characters.

I combined (for my own sanity) names that are pronounced identically but have minor spelling differences: i.e. the data for Catherine also includes Catharines and Katherines, Susannah includes Susannas, Phoebe includes Phebes, etc.

The compound 'Mother's/Grandmother's maiden name used as first name' designation is an educated guesstimate based on what I recognized as known surnames, as I do not hate myself enough to go through 25,000+ individuals and confirm their mother's maiden names. So if the tally includes any individuals who just happened to be named Fitzroy/Hastings/Townsend/etc. because their parents liked the sound of it and not due to any familial relations - my bad.

I did a small comparative survey of 5,000 individuals in several rural communities in Rutland and Staffordshire (chosen because they had the cleanest data I could find and I was lazy) to see if there were any significant differences between urban and rural naming practices and found the results to be very similar. The most noticeable difference I observed was that the S+ tier names were even MORE popular in rural areas than in London. In Rutland between 1810 and 1820 Elizabeths comprised 21.4% of all brides vs. 15.3% in the London survey. All other S+ names also saw increases of between 1% and 6%. I also observed that the rural communities I surveyed saw a small, but noticeable and fairly consistent, increase in the use of names with Biblical origins.

Sources of the records I used for my survey:

Ancestry.com. England & Wales Marriages, 1538-1988 [database on-line].

Ancestry.com. Westminster, London, England, Church of England Marriages and Banns, 1754-1935 [database on-line].

#history #regency #1800s #1810s #names #london #writing resources #regency romance #jane austen #bridgerton #bridgerton would be an exponentially better show if daphne's name was dorcas #behold - the reason i haven't posted in three weeks

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itsnothingbutluck · 5 months

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youtube

#How the World’s Wealthiest People Travel #Youtube

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xtruss · 8 months

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The $100 Trillion Battle For The World’s Wealthiest People! Two Financial Giants Look Likely To Crush The Competition

— September 5th, 2023 | New York | Finance and Economics | Rich and Famous

The Uber-rich hire all kinds of people to make their lives easier. Landscapers Maintain Gardens, Housekeepers Tidy Homes, Nannies Raise Children. Yet perhaps no role is as important as that of the Wealth Manager, who is hired to protect capital.

These advisers are scattered across the globe in cities such as Geneva and New York, and are employed as fiduciaries, meaning they are required to act in the interest of their clients. As such, they become privy to the intimate lives of the rich and famous, who must expose their secrets so that advice may be offered on, say, the inheritance of a child born of an extramarital affair. Advisers also help families allocate investments, stash cash in boltholes, minimise tax bills, plan for retirement, arrange to pass down their vast wealth and follow unusual wishes. A Singapore-based manager recalls being told to invest a “double-digit” percentage of a family’s wealth in “bloodstock horses”—steeds bred especially for racing—a term he hurriedly looked up after the meeting.

For decades, wealth management was a niche service, looked down upon by the rest of finance. Now it is the most attractive business in the industry. Capital and liquidity requirements set after the global financial crisis of 2007-09 have made running balance-sheet-heavy businesses, such as lending or trading, difficult and expensive. By comparison, doling out wealth advice requires almost no capital. Margins for firms that achieve scale are typically around 25%. Clients stick around, meaning that revenues are predictable. Competition has crushed profits in other formerly lucrative asset-management businesses, such as mutual funds. And whereas the pools of assets managed by BlackRock and Vanguard, the index- and exchange-traded-fund giants, are huge, they collect a fraction of a penny on every dollar invested. A standard fee for a wealth manager is 1% of a client’s assets, annually.

Wealth management is all the more appealing because of how quickly it is expanding. Global economic growth has been decent enough over the past two decades, at more than 3% a year. Yet it has been left in the dust by growth in wealth. Between 2000 and 2020 it rose from $160trn, or four times global output, to $510trn, or six times output. Although much of this is tied up in property and other assets, the pool of liquid assets is still vast, making up a quarter of the total. Bain, a consultancy, estimates that it will almost double, from just over $130trn to almost $230trn by 2030—meaning that a $100trn prize is up for grabs. They anticipate the boom will help lift global wealth-management revenues from $255bn to $510bn.

Image: The Economist

It will be fuelled by geography, demography and technology. The biggest managers are attempting to cover ever more of the globe as dynastic wealth is created in Asian and Latin American markets. Baby-boomers are the last generation that can rely on defined-benefit pensions for their retirement; more people will have to take decisions about how their own wealth will support them. Meanwhile, software is streamlining the bureaucracy that once waylaid wealth managers, allowing them to serve more clients at lower cost, and helping firms automate the acquisition of new ones. These gains will allow big banks to serve the merely rich as well as the uber-wealthy. Firms are already climbing down the rungs of the wealth ladder, from ultra-high-net-worth and high-net-worth, who have millions of dollars to invest, into the lives of those with just $100,000 or so.

Markus Habbel of Bain sees a comparison to the booming luxury-goods industry. Handbags were once prized for their exclusivity as much as their beauty, but have become ubiquitous on social media, with influencers touting Bottega Veneta pouches and Hermès bags. “Think about Louis Vuitton or Gucci. They have basically the same clients as [wealth managers] target and they increased from 40m [customers] 40 years ago to 400m now,” he notes. Upper-crust buyers have not been put off.

Which firms will grab the $100trn prize? For the moment, wealth management is fragmented. Local banks, such as BTG in Brazil, have large shares of domestic markets. Regional champions dominate in hubs, including Bank of Singapore and dbs in Asia. In America the masses are served by specialist firms such as Edward Jones, a retail-wealth-mananagement outfit in which advisers are paid based on commissions for selling funds. Only a handful of institutions compete on a truly global scale. These include Goldman Sachs and JPMorgan Chase. But the two biggest are Morgan Stanley and a new-look ubs, which has just absorbed Credit Suisse, its old domestic rival. After acquiring a handful of smaller wealth-management firms over the past decade, Morgan Stanley now oversees around $6trn in wealth assets. After its merger, ubs now oversees $5.5trn.

To The Victor

This patchwork is unlikely to last. “The industry is heading in a winner-takes-all direction,” predicts Mr Habbel, as it becomes “very much about scale, about technology and about global reach”. Jennifer Piepszak, an executive at JPMorgan, has reported that her firm’s takeover of First Republic, a bank for the well-heeled that failed in May, represents a “meaningful acceleration” of its wealth-management ambitions. Citigroup has poached Andy Sieg, head of wealth management at Bank of America, in an effort to revamp its offering. In 2021 Vanguard purchased “Just Invest”, a wealth-technology company.

ubs and Morgan Stanley have grander ambitions. The firms’ strategies reflect their contrasting backgrounds and may, ultimately, end up in a clash. Morgan Stanley competes around the world but is dominant in America, and is focusing on wealth services for the masses, as shown by its purchase of e*trade, a brokerage platform, in 2020. James Gorman, the bank’s boss, has said that if the firm keeps growing new assets by around 5% a year, its current growth rate, it would oversee $20trn in a decade or so.

This would be built on Morgan Stanley’s existing scale. In 2009 the bank agreed to acquire Smith Barney, Citi’s wealth-management arm, for $13.5bn, which helped boost margins to the low teens from 2% or so in the years before the financial crisis. Today they are around 27%, reflecting the use of tech to move into advising the merely rich. Andy Saperstein, head of the wealth-management division, points to the acquisition of Solium, a small stock-plan-administration firm, which Morgan Stanley purchased for just $900m in 2019, as crucial for building a strong client-referral machine. “No one was looking at the stock-plan-administration companies because they didn’t make any money,” he says. But these firms “had access to a huge customer base and [clients] were constantly checking to see when the equity was going to vest, what it was worth and when they would have access to it.”

ubs is employing a more old-school approach, albeit with a global twist. Having taken over its domestic rival, the Swiss bank has a once-in-a-generation chance to cement a lead in places where Credit Suisse flourished, such as Brazil and South-East Asia. Deft execution of the merger would make the firm a front-runner in almost every corner of the globe. Thus, for now at least, the new-look ubs will focus more on geographic breadth than the merely rich.

In differing ways, both Morgan Stanley and ubs are seeking even greater scale. When clients hire a wealth manager they tend to want one of two things. Sometimes it is help with a decision “when the cost of making a bad choice is high”, says Mr Saperstein, such as working out how to save for retirement or a child’s education. Other times it is something exclusively available, such as access to investments unobtainable through a regular brokerage account.

Being able to offer clients access to private funds or assets will probably become increasingly important for wealth managers. Greater scale means greater bargaining power when negotiating with private-market firms to secure exclusive deals, such as private funds for customers or lower fees. Younger generations, which will soon be inheriting wealth, are expected to demand more environmentally and socially conscious options, including those that do not just screen out oil companies, but focus on investing in, say, clean energy. A decade ago a client would tend to follow their wealth adviser if he or she moved to a new firm. Exclusive funds make such a switch more difficult.

The winner-takes-all trend may be accelerated by artificial intelligence (AI), on which bigger firms with bigger technology budgets already have a head start. There are three kinds of tools that ai could be used to create. The first take a firm’s proprietary information, such as asset-allocation recommendations or research reports, and spit out information that advisers can use to help their clients. Attempts to build such “enterprise” tools are common, since they are the easiest to produce and pose few regulatory difficulties.

Wealthbots

The second type of tool would be trained on client information rather than companies’ proprietary data, perhaps even listening in on conversations between advisers and clients. Such a tool could then summarise information and create automatic actions for advisers, reminding them to send details to clients or follow up about certain issues. The third kind of tool is the most aspirational. It is an execution tool, which would allow advisers to speak aloud requests, such as purchasing units in a fund or carrying out a foreign-exchange transaction, and have a firm’s systems automatically execute that transaction on their behalf, saving time.

It will take money to make money, then. The biggest wealth managers already have more substantial margins, access to products their clients want and a head start on the technology that might put them even further ahead. “We are a growth company now,” claims Mr Saperstein of Morgan Stanley, a sentence that has been rarely uttered about a bank in the past 15 years. “We are just getting started.”

Yet the two giants atop the industry are both going through periods of transition. ubs has barely begun the open-heart surgery that is required when merging two large banks. Meanwhile, Mr Gorman, architect of Morgan Stanley’s wealth strategy, will retire some time in the next nine months. The succession race between Mr Saperstein, Ted Pick and Dan Simkowitz, two other executives, is already under way. Either firm could falter. Although the two are chasing different strategies, it is surely only a matter of time before they clash. ubs is on an American hiring spree; Morgan Stanley is eyeing expansion in some global markets, including Japan.

And despite the advantages offered by scale, smaller wealth-management firms will be difficult to dislodge entirely. Lots of different outfits have a foothold in the industry, from customer-directed brokerage platforms like Charles Schwab, which also offer their richest customers independent advice from a fiduciary, to asset-management firms, such as Fidelity and Vanguard, which have millions of customers invested in their funds, who might seek out wealth-management advice.

When Willie Sutton, a dapper thief also known as Slick Willie who died in 1980, was asked why he decided to rob banks, he replied that it was simply “because that is where the money is”. This is also a useful aphorism to explain strategy on Wall Street, as firms race to take advantage of the $100trn opportunity in wealth management. Once the business was a sleepy, unsophisticated corner of finance. Now it is the industry’s future. ■

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awearywritersworld · 10 months

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gratitude

gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo wakes up early one morning, suddenly aware that he can't live without you. w/c: .5k tags/warnings: fluff. gn!reader. a/n: happy jjk day!!! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

gojo satoru is something of a stranger to gratitude, but can anyone really blame him? he was born with unmatched strength, unaccustomed to the blood, sweat, and tears many people shed to gain even a fraction of the power he possesses.

he's the son of one of the wealthiest clans in japan, so he's never gone to bed hungry, nor has he ever had to wear a pair of shoes that were past their prime. he's also blessed with good looks, always flaunting the kind of smile that makes people turn their heads.

now, that's not to say he's never felt thankful in his life. quite the contrary. he was thankful when nanami returned to jujutsu tech and when yuuji came back to life even after sukuna ripped out his heart. hell, he was thankful for the kid at the bakery who served him a particularly exquisite lemon loaf last week.

but he's never felt true gratitude. you know, the kind you experience when you're given something you can't possibly live without. the kind that moves you, shakes you to the core.

that is, until he's laying in bed beside you, already awake as the sun begins to kiss the morning sky. his eyes trail over your face in the pale blue light of dawn, taking great pains to commit every little detail to memory.

it's then that he feels it, gratitude that seeps into his bones and fills him with relief, hope, and elation all at once. gratitude that changes him as a person, because how could he exist without you? without the soft curve of your nose, without the fullness of your lips, without those cute little snores that let him know you're still sleeping peacefully?

you're laying on your stomach, your back exposed and the sheet bunched around your waist. he traces each divot of your spine with a careful and loving touch, acutely aware that there isn't a thing in the world that could possibly compare to the feeling of your skin against his own.

"'toru? what're you doing awake?" you ask groggily, pulling him from his thoughts.

"hmph.. can't sleep 'cause you're such a blanket hog."

"yeah? are you sure you're not just staring at me again, all googly eyed and creepy?" you pop one eye open to discern the look on his face.

"i've got no idea what you're talking about," he asserts, pulling you against his chest in an attempt to obscure his guilty grin.

you've already seen it though. "i think you're delusional or something, you should get some more sleep."

you feel his chest shift, a breath of a laugh passing his nose. "yeah, you're probably right."

you hum, satisfied with his answer, then tangle your legs with his and close your eyes. "i love you."

gojo has taken a lot of things for granted in his life, he's smart enough to know that, but those three words? from your lips? he'll be grateful for them until the end of time.

"i love you, too."

taglist: @torusmochi @moonmalice

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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triple-tree-ranch · 2 months

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Possibly the most important thing you'll read this year...

The following is the philosophy of Charles Schulz, the creator of the 'Peanuts' comic strip.

You don't have to actually answer the questions. Just ponder on them. Just read it straight through, and you'll get the point.

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.

3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.

4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.

5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.

6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.

How did you do?

The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.

These are no second-rate achievers.

They are the best in their fields.

But the applause dies.

Awards tarnish ...

Achievements are forgotten.

Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.

2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.

3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.

4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.

5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

Easier?

The lesson:

The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money ... or the most awards. They simply are the ones who care the most.

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yuyu1024 · 3 months

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Twilight

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞 smut/angst, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kink, unprotected sex, mention of smoking and drinking alchohol jealousy, insecurity, mention of weight&food/eating, mention of blood/violence

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 5.6k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Part 1 - Prisoner

Part 2 - Escape

Part 3 - Twilight

A/N: again thanks for liking this mini series and my simple writing... 🫶🏻 hope i don't disappoint 🙏🏻

****

[Day 1 into the marriage]

"Here is the wedding certificate and then here are the papers where all the terms of agreement are listed." The lawyer says as he puts down the pens and papers in front of you and Yoongi whilst you two are still in your wedding outfits. "These are final prints... they were revised based from our last meeting." He adds

"Good." Yoongi picks up his pen and signs the wedding certificate. "Thanks for doing this within short notice." And then he proceeds to signing our contract, flipping each page like he's just signing some random deal at work.

"No worries, Mr. Min. We've had clients who have way more pages and things to consider than yours two." The lawyer says

So, this means that a lot of rich people do this kind of contracts. Besides the pre-nup thingy. Meaning, contracts for those who got married just because they had to. What a world we live in.

"Mrs. Min?" Your eyes slowly rises. You see the lawyer handing you the pen.

"Oh." You take the pen from his hand and then slighty move forward from the sofa you are sitting so you could reach the papers.

"Left handed...?" Yoongi mumbles making you look back at him. He is sitting beside you.

"I- I am..." and then you proceed to signing everything. Not missing a page.

"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Min." The lawyer puts everything in a folder and then an envelope and stands up to bow. "Congratulation on your marriage!"

You are not sure how to response as you know what 'marriage' you just entered. But all you could say is 'Thank you' and bow back

Then the moment the lawyer and his minions left the room, you finally relax and let out a sigh of relieved. The wedding is finally over. The day you have been preparing for months. And the acting as a perfect bride is over. Well atleast for this moment. Coz now, you are not just a bride, you are a wife now. A wife of one of the wealthiest and good looking man in the country. The only son of the famous mafia known to man.

"Don't cut your hair short..." he suddenly says cutting you from your deep thoughts

"Sorry?"

You see him staring at you. His legs crossed and his chin resting on his palm. "Maintain that length..."

Then you glance down at your curled hair that is reaching until below your chest. "Ahm.... okay." You softly answer

"Do you have a doctor?"

"Doctor? For what?"

"To monitor your health... and also a doctor to take care of you... reproductive wise..."

"W-what...?" You could feel your cheeks burn up. You didn't expect a conversation like this just after getting married. "W-why...? Like... Do we need to have children as soon as possible?"

He looks away. "The opposite." He then stands up, hands in his pockets and walks towards the door. "Monitor your period...so when I want to have sex with you... we're safe."

Speechless. He's so straightforward and he sound so cold. But atleast he is talking to you now.

"Did you hear me?" He looks back at you

"Y-yes... I will." You answer, clutching onto your skirt, nervous and scared at the same time.

"Good." He turns his back again to you. "You can rest for bit... and when you're done, your car is waiting at the back entrance."

"My... car? H-how about you?"

"I have work. I'll see you at the house."

"Oh. Okay..."

You watch him leave the room and see Mr. Kim his right hand man smile at you to bid their goodbye and close the door.

That's it for your wedding day. The very eventful day ended up to becoming so silent. Because the next time you see him is 2 weeks after. Crazy isn't it.

Weddings supposed to be followed by a trip for your honeymoon but instead you are brought to his mansion and became a prison.

***

You are walking around the mansion, familiarizing yourself with the surrounding with your personal maid that was assigned to you by your husband, when you hear commotions. Everyone are in a hurry and mumbling as they do random things.

"Miss... Master is home." Your personal maid says answering your unspoken curiosity

"Is he..." you softly say under your breathe. "Should I go to my room now and change?" You ask her.

They have debriefed you the whole two weeks your husband is out. They told you all the things you need to know and add a bit of ideas to you what Yoongi likes. More particularly, your hair being braided whenever he wants to have sex.

How funny that even his staffs know these kind of things. During the two weeks time, it made you wonder, what type of person is Yoongi. How can he be so open about his wants especially from a woman. Like woman he fucks.

It also made you question, did he fuck a lot of woman before he was forced to marry? Did he bring a different woman to pleasure him? Will you be seeing other women if you don't give him his needs? Can you satisfy him?

It's been only at beginning of this life and yet you are flooded by question but no one could answer it. You are not allowed to question him or be curious.

The maid nods and bows.

"Okay then..." you are nervous.

If ever he comes to you and he asks for sex, you are worried and scared at the same time. This is your first time. You are not experienced. You never had a chance to have to have sex yet since you are busy trying to survive and work for your family. The only experience you got is kissing and you don't even know if you are good at it. Your first and last boyfriend was the onky experience you got. you two didn't lasted that long and you were young back then so..

"What are you doing here...?"

Both you and the maid got startled a bit. You two looking back, you both see Yoongi standing at the end of the hallway.

"Y-yoongi?" You mumble, almost a whisper that you can only hear yourself.

Your husband looks like he just came from a fight. The corner of his lips is bleeding and his white shirt have blood on it too.

"Master." The maid bows and explains why you are there. "Miss is just roaming around to get familiar with the house."

While you on the other hand, you are shaking but you try your very best to hide it. "W-what happen..." your voice is too weak for him to even hear

"We were just about to go to her room to get ready." The maid adds.

Yoongi's expression is empty. He is just starring at you with those sharp eyes. It is sending shivers all over your body.

"Tell everybody to not set foot on this wing until I say so..." Yoongi orders the maid

She bows and says, "Understood." And then she glances at me and does the same. "Miss..." before she disappears leaving you and Yoongi alone in the hallway.

"What are you staring at?" He asks as he begins to walk towards you. "Do I scare you?"

"No..." you shake your head

"Do I repulse you?" He then stops right in front of you.

You can now see it more clearing. His bloody lip, the scratches on his neck and his scar. The prominent scar on his face that made you curious about him since the day you met him.

"No... not at all..." you answer

He scoffs with disbelief with your answer. "You are just saying that because of our contract."

You feel offended a little because you are being honest. You are scared of the situation but not him. You are afraid that you might mess up your first night but not because of him. He never really scares you which is odd.

Before you met him, people already gave you warning about him. You were worried yes however all of that blew away when you saw him look at you. You know something is behind those empty eyes. He is different that what people know. You don't want to judge him.

"No..." you insist.

"Really?" He then raises his hand and touch your long straight hair.

"Your hand..." you mumble seeing his red knuckles. "Does it hurt?"

"That's nothing." He answers. "I can still use my hand..." then he gently touch your breast. He let his finger feel where your nipple is and then squeezing it lightly.

You inhale sharply as you watch him do it. This is the first time anyone have touched you like this, in a semi public place. You thought you'd be uncomfortable. But no. You like it. That's what your body tells you.

He is also watching you react on his touch. His eyes never left yours. "Are you nervous?" He asks

"A little."

He smirks, "you should be."

Then he pulled you in for a kiss by grabbing you by your nape. You tip toed a little as he is taller than you. You struggled a bit to find your balance but it didn't matter seconds later as you begin to melt the moment he devours your lips. He is holding you tight and basically carrying you.

His other hand skims down your back until it reaches your ass. He's caressing you down back that it pulls up your mini dress.

"I like this." He says in between the kiss as he touched your lace underwear.

Your heart is beating so fast. The sudden thrilling feeling is overwhelming you but at the same time is turning you on. The way he touches you is making you feel you are so sexy even though you know you are not.

"Spread your legs." He orders and you follow. Then his hand goes in to your panty and cup you down there. "You're so wet." He smirks

You are out of breathe when the kissing stops but him touching you down there, it is making you so red. No one has touched you down there.

"No braids today... I can't fucking wait anymore." He then scoops you off the ground and carried you bridal style. "I'll let this one go since we just got married. I need to fuck you right now."

**********

[6months into the marriage]

Yoongi have been gone for two days for business. He said he will back today but told you not to wait and just go to bed. However, after seeing him looking at bit grumpy and frustrated during his call earlier, you can't help but worry for him. Because usually when you see him like that he'll come home with a bloody knuckle again.

Thinking about him the whole day now affects you. You can't sleep nor feel tired. Your brain is so awake and imagining things that might happen to him.

You want to call him or even message Mr. Kim to know how is he doing. But you can't. You're not allowed to contact him unless it is about your schedule or about his parents. Your interaction with him is still very limited. It's been months since you two got married but nothing has changed.

And since you can't sleep, you decided to go down to the kitchen and make yourself a hot milk. It is perfect for the winter weather and also maybe it can help to ease your mind and get you to feel sleepy even just a little bit.

"It's snowing..." you mumble to yourself as enter the kitchen area.

There is a huge window where you could see the back of the house where the mini garden. You say mini since it is mini compare to how huse this whole house is.

The bushes are all covered in snow and you could see how the moon light reflects on them. It's mesmarizing but also dangerous especially if you are out driving.

"I wonder..." you whisper as you stand right next to the window. "I hope he gets home safetly..."

***

After drinking your hot milk and spending a few minutes staring into the world outside through the window, you still don't feel sleepy at all. So even it's already pass 10pm, you decided that maybe going to your study room and to read a book might help to.

However, on your way to your study area, you walk pass by Yoongi's wing where his room is located

You could hear men talking which made you stop and observe from the end of the hall. You see Mr. Kim talking to a man wearing a white blazer coat. He looked familiar but you are not sure. Not until he turned around and talked to a nurse that came out of Yoongi's room.

He is the Min's family doctor. He is also the same doctor that did your health check up months ago.

"Why is he--"

Then a high pitched, piercing cry echoed from Yoongi's room. He's screaming. He is in pain.

Both men hurries back in his room to check on Yoongi while you on the other hand, frozen and terrified from afar. Questions like; what happened? What's going on? Is he hurt? Why? Is he okay? Why is he screaming like that?

You want to sprint forward to go and check what the fuck is going on with your husband but you are forbidden to enter his wing. Per his rule.

'Y/N... just walk away. Walk away and pretend you didn't hear anything. That's how its supposed to be...' you say to yourself in your head as you take a step back and try to act like nothing happened.

Just move on. You keep repeating as you turn your back. You know he'll not like it, you being nosy.

*******

[7 months & 1 week into the marriage]

"What is it?" He asks as he flips the page of the book he's reading.

"Oh...S-sorry..." you lower your head again and just continued pretending reading the book you have in hand.

He caught you staring at him. But to be more specific, staring at his injured shoulder. This is the first you guys spent time together again. He was gone for awhile. Their doctor insisted that he need to get an operation as his injury was serious.

Yoongi denied him so many times. Even the doctor explained the danger that it would caused him and the injury really damaging his shoulder. He's very hard headed.

But you are glad that eventually, he said yes to the operation. Everyone is relieved when Mrs. Min, his mom, got to force him out of his dungeon and straight to the hospital.

"Are you even actually reading that book?" Yoongi shuts the book he have on hand and throws it on the sofa he's sitting on.

"Ahm..." your eyes shake. "I am..."

"Okay then... what is it about?"

You lift the book more to cover your face. "A young girl... fell in love with a vampire... but the vampire does not like her... so she tries his best to find a way to be... a vampire too... coz maybe... he'll like her back." You made it up. Sort of. You barely finished reading chapter 15.

"Really?"

"Uhum..." you hum and flip a page to act like you are still reading.

Yoongi shakes his head, "What a dumb book." He mumbles.

"Why do you think it is dumb?"

He rolls his eyes. "Why would she want to be a vampire if the vampire does not even like her in the first place. What would that change? That's a bit pathetic of her and stupid"

You lower the book onto your lap and shut it slowly. "Yeah... I guess you're right..."

His comment about the book sort of hit you in the heart. Since you kind a share the same story of the female lead. You are not in love but you try so hard to be accepted and be liked by him, your husband. Though you know it will never happen. He only likes to fuck you. Nothing more. Nothing less.

"My mother wants to have lunch with you on the weekend. Be available." He says as he is focused on his phone probably reading emails.

'I'm always available.' You say in your head. 'How can I not be? I'm just at home and no where to go to.'

"Okay." You answer as you put down the book down beside you.

He is busy looking down at his phone now. Again. And just like that the room became so silent. You are just literally there to accompany him while he sits down in his home office and do whatever business he do. He do his work at home since he cannot report yet to work.

*beeps*

Your phone blinks as you receive a new message. It is a message from your friend back home, Taehyung. He's asking you how are you and also giving you updates about everything that has been going on in your small town. His simple text and updates every now and then really makes you smile. It is a simple thing that you look forward to every now and then. Since, lately, you have been loosing your smile day by day.

"What's funny?" He asks, not even looking at you

You put your phone down. "N-nothing... sorry...."

********

[11 months into the marriage]

Your wedding anniversary is coming soon and for some reason you are excited about it. You are not giggling to yourself or kicking off your feet when you are in bed alone thinking about it, however, you are really looking forward to it. For some reason, you want to celebrate it. It is a milestone for you. A simple achievement.

"Here you go, Miss." Your maid pulls out this mini plunging floral print dress with long sleeves from the hanger. You bought this online a few weeks ago. You think it is a cute dress to wear today. It is not fancy nor expensive but you like it. "Where to go today, Miss?"

You get up from the chair and undo your robe, revealing a cute pair of undergarment. "Nothing special... I just.... want to go out."

"I'll inform the driver then to get ready."

"Thank you." You take the dress from her hand so she could go on and inform the driver.

You have nothing to do today. Yoongi is out of town again and you have no schedules so you decided to go and visit your friend back home.

***

"Y/N!" Taehyung runs towards you and embraces you the moment you got out of the car. "Long time no see!" He then pats your head and pinches your cheek.

"Long time..." you answer then pulling back a little as you see his little sister running from afar. "Mia!" Bending down so you could welcome the little cutie's hug. "I've missed you! Oh my gosh! You've grown so much!"

"She's now two... can you believe it?" Taehyung says

"Oh dear!" You carry her and kisses her chubby cheeks. "I want to eat your cute little cheeks!" You tease her, making her giggle.

"Glad you had time to visit."

"Yeah... My husband is away so... I made plans."

"Why? Does he not allow you to go out?"

"No... not like that... he's busy and I got busy as well which is... new. And I'm still adjusting..."

It is true that Yoongi does not limit you with going out. It's just that you were and still adjusting big time to everything. The lifestyle, the household and Him. He is the big adjustment in your life right now.

"So, how's married life? I mean... married life with one of the richest man in the country?"

You exhale as smile. "Weird?"

"Weird? In what way?"

A lot of things. The lavish life is very nice in the beginning and exciting but then as time goes by you get very overwhelmed by the new things and items that comes in every now and then. Plus you don't repeat that much clothes which is very icky for you coz every dress and clothing is expensive so you want to wear them as much as possible.

Luckily, Yoongi didn't mind when you told him to not ask his stylists to buy you new clothes every release. You told him you wanted to buy on your own and just ask for consultation when you need to.

"Not used to it yet." Then you look behind you. "Even going around with a maid and a bodyguard."

He looks back and sees the two person standing a few feet away. "Oh... right."

"Play! Play!" Little Mia mumbles as she points at their house

"Play what?" You ask

"Ah, Dad built her a play house at the back. She likes to go their and play pretend house with her dolls." Taehyung explains

"I see.." you kiss little Mia's cheek again. "Let's play?"

"Yayaya!" Little Mia squeals in joy.

***

You spent quite a few hours at your friend's house. You even met a few old neighbors and classmates as well, catching up with their own lives and everything. It was fun. You enjoyed talking with them, finally talking this much again like before. It was refreshing.

However, along the talkings, you find it amusing that most of them got married as well after you and one is already expecting a baby and the other one is excited to go on a trip with his husband. Their stories of marriage is very different than yours. Their stories are very warm and thrilling while yours have a lot of activities yes, but the warmth, you don't have that.

You felt your smile fade away as the conversations continues. You also felt small and be like the other kid that's missing out a lot.

Taehyung even noticed it. He put his arm around you and gave you a 'it's okay' look. He knows what you are already feeling though he didn't asked what was on your mind. He just knew you needed a little nudge.

"Warm bath, miss?" Your maid asks as you both exit the elevator.

You got home already. You were knocked out on the way home.

"Maybe later?" You say.

"Understood."

"Thank you for today... you can go and rest for a bit. I'll just call you if I need you."

She bows. "Miss." And then walks off

You sigh heavily, closing your eyes shut for a few seconds before you decide to go to your study room. You want complete isolation and probably sit down at your favorite spot, the window seat and watch the sunset. Your study room have the best view of the sunset.

Pushing the window slightly open to let the crispy cool air in, then kicking your shoes off your feet as you lean your head out a bit and take in the fresh air.

The small smile you are wearing instantly vanishes as a thought comes in your head again.

Taehyung did talked to you before you left earlier. Besides asking you to visit often, he suddenly asked you if you're happy. Of course you said yes but deep inside, you question yourself. 'Am I?'

"Yah! Yoongi! You promised me that yatch so you should get me that yatch!"

You suddenly hear a woman's voice from afar. You have never heard anyone talk that loud ever in this house. So it made you curious. You peak your head out again from your window and start to look around where it comes from. And then when your eyes lands on the view of the driveway, you see Yoongi walking towards the car where Mr. Kim is waiting, holding the door and then a woman following your husband.

"Hey... don't ignore me!" She runs after Yoongi and hooks her arm to his.

It stunned you. You never hooked your arms around Yoongi's before. They.... look close. Who is she?

You see Yoongi talk to her, making an exhausted face. He looks so done and just want her to leave. But at the same time, it's not like he does not want to talk to her. Actually, he looks a bit relaxed talking to her.

Compared to you. He is strict, always serious and bored.

"Buy me the yatch!" She says again before he gets into the car.

You didn't hear what Yoongi answered. He just waved his hands and Mr. Kim shuts the door and goes to the passenger seat and leave with the unknown girl.

Before Yoongi could turn around and catch you, you instantly get back in and shut the window.

*****

[1st Anniversary]

"Good morning, Miss." Your maid enters your room and bows as she always does.

"Is he home?"

"Master left early this morning."

"Really..." you softly say. You sound sad and disappointed. "Did he say where is he going and what time will he back?"

"Sorry, Miss. Master didn't mention anything nor Mr. Kim."

"Hmm... okay then."

You had your hopes up. How stupid of you to think that he will celebrate with you. Hoping that maybe, even just for special occassions like this he could atleast be present.

It is a tough year for you. All through out this whole year, the only thing that is constant for your smile fading away. Yeah you are a bit light and always trying to be positive about the two of you. But since now its your one year into this marriage, officially 1st anniversary, and he is still like this. Maybe it's better you stop smiling already. It breaking your heart every time.

"Maybe he's with her." You mumble. "She's more of a good company than I am..." you flop on your bed and cover yourself with your duvet.

"Shall I get ready your outfits, Miss?"

"No.... just... sorry... can you please leave me alone for awhile?"

"I'll be outside."

Hearing the door closing, finally you let loose of yourself. For the first time, you are crying because of Him. Sobbing. You don't know why you are but it just felt right. You are disappointed, tired and feel unappreciated. Though you know how this thing between you two is, even you tell it to yourself hundred of times, you can't stop your own self to care and not try. You don't want to be a burden for him. You don't want to take advantage of his money. You don't want to act like you don't give a fuck. You don't want to not like him.

Yoongi is still a person, a man and you are a woman. Though you know that you don't love him you still like him. He is a kind person and giving though he is strict and have tons of rules for you but you don't care. And you don't know why you don't care.

It is very confusing for you. You are not even sure now what you are feeling. You just want him to notice you and just to... care. Maybe? Even just a little bit. ;(

You continue to cry and cry until your heart feels as numb as your eyes. You want to let it all out now to get over with your feelings. He can't see you emotional. He can't see that you care. Because if he did, maybe it will make him change his mind and let you go.

****************

[Day after 1st anniversary]

"Here's your coffee, Sir." Mr. Kim cautiously puts his cup of coffee in his desk while Yoongi is busy talking to his staff online

He did woke up early today even though he finished work late as well. He is already in his home office at 4am and very busy already. He had a few early meetings with time differences to think of.

"Can't you all fucking handle this? It's not like the task is hard!" He is scowling at the two men at the corner of the screen as he take a hit of his cigarette. "I assigned you to collect these because I know you could handle those mother fuckers. What happened?!?"

"Our mistake, Sir." One starts, "We didn't expected him to resist since it's their frist time dealing with us."

"Hmmm." Yoongi smashes his cigar on the ash tray. "Bring in your men tomorrow morning before dawn and show them how we deal with fuckers like him. And tell them this is us being super nice."

"Yes sir."

"Let's end this now. Just inform me when it's all sorted."

"Understood sir."

Yoongi then slams his laptap close and then grabs his cup of coffee to drink.

"What's my schedule for today?"

Mr. Kim then checks the ipad on his hand. "Nothing sir..."

"Nothing?" Yoongi frowns. "What you mean nothing?"

Mr. Kim looks at him and tries to see if Yoongi would realize what day it is today. "I guess you really forgot."

"Forgot what?" Yoongi puts down the coffee and pulls his phone out of his pocket to see what day it is. "So, you are telling me you didn't scheduled any work today because of my wedding anniversary yesterday?"

"Yes."

Yoongi rolls his eyes and leans back to his chair. "We have a lot of collections to do, Mr. Kim."

"I know sir. But one day of rest would not hurt." He says, "with your wife."

Raising his brow, Yoongi does not show any hint of any emotion. Mr. Kim could not sense if he's okay with it or not.

Sighing, "Ready the car." Yoongi orders the man standing by the door.

"Where are you going, Sir?" Mr. Kim questions

Yoongi didn't answer though. He just stood up and started walking to exit his office. He even told his men and even Mr. Kim to not follow him which confused most of them.

"Where do you think Master going today?" The young guard asks

Mr. Kim smiles and says, "Not sure where... but looks like he's visiting his wife first."

And he is right. Yoongi is actually stomping his way towards the other wing of the mansion where Y/N's room is located.

"Master." Two maids who are walking along the hallways this early, cleaning, sees him and greets him.

"Is she awake?"

"No sir. Not yet...."

He stops just at her door. "She's usually up early. Right?"

"Yes, master." One answer, "she do get up early... but not today..."

"Is she sick?"

"No... but..." then the maid pauses and lookd hesitant.

"What is it?" Yoongi turns to see why the maid stopped.

"Well...." she lowers her voice. "We heard that... Miss cried so much yesterday."

"Cried?" Yoongi's forehead creases with confusion

"Yes." Both maid answers

"Hmm..." Yoongi then faces Y/N's wooden door and just stayed still for a good few seconds.

"Do you want us to wake her up, Master?" One asks

"No..." he utters as he hold onto the door handle. "Please go ahead and prepare breakfast so when she wakes up at sunrise she could eat...and also... just... leave us alone for a moment..."

Both maids look at each other, surpressing a smile. They know Yoongi is worried about his wife though their master seems to not notice it himself. They find it amusing how their master is... changing. It is very minimal and not really noticable unless you have known him for quite sometime. But it is a big thing.

"We'll let the others know..." the other says, pertaining to not disturb the couple

***

Upon entering Y/N's room, Yoongi finds his wife sleeping so soundly on her queen size bed. Her arms are on her side, spreadout like they are her wings and about to fly. Her eyes, he can see how puffy they are. And her expression, she looks like she really did fell asleep crying. She even fell asleep on the buttom end of her bed.

She's adorable.

"Why did you cried?" Yoongi asks softly as he runs his knuckles on her cheek. "Is it because of me...?" He goes down to sit on the bedroom bench and picks up the book that must've fallen on the floor. "Or is it because... of this book...?" He places the book back on the bed and leans in, to fix her douvet. "I hope it's the latter... don't cry because of me... it's not worth it." He then removes the hair strands covering her face. "also.... I didn't forgot" he then bends over more before planting a soft and delicate kiss on her lips whilst making sure he won't wake her up. "Happy anniversary Y/N..." his eyes scans her face one more time before kissing her again. But this time on her forehead and whispered. "Just wait a bit more..."

***

"Sir..." Mr. Kim bows as Yoongi returns to his home office. "The car is ready..."

However, Yoongi didn't responded. He just walk pass Mr. Kim and go to stand by his office window.

"Is everything alright, Sir?"

Closing his eyes, Yoongi tries to organize his thoughts.

"Mr. Kim..."

"Yes, sir?"

Yoongi opens his eyes, just in time for the a hint of light peaks through the dark sky. "Can you please call my lawyer..."

"Sir?" Mr. Kim wonders why Yoongi suddenly wants him to contact a lawyer. "May I ask, which one?"

Yoongi turns around to face him. "Call Mr. Choi..."

Processing in his mind why Yoongi would like to call the lawyer than made their prenup and marriage contract alk of a sudden. "Okay sir... but may I ask for what reason?"

Yoongi picks up his pack of cigarette and pulls out one stick using his lips. "Just bring him in. I need to talk to him. Privately.... Asap."

"Understood, Sir."

Next: Fate

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thehighpriestess1 · 9 months

Text

Be Mine : The meeting

Summary : After finally waiting for 20 years Gojo Satoru finally met the woman he has been in love with. But love is not easy to conquer even for the strongest.

Pairing : Yandere King Gojo x Knight reader

Warning: Yandere themes. Mentions of violence and death. Minors do not interact!

Master list : Ask Box

It was not unusual for a woman to be a knight or a soldier. Although it was a bit unfair to those of your kind. In this kingdom were two kinds of people, one who had power, the sorcerers, not the kind of power that comes with a position but the kind you are born with. Power that is used to protect the others against the army of curses that have plagued the world for centuries. No one knows where these curses come from. No one knows how to eradicate them forever. But as goes the law of balance, there are people that are born with the power to kill these curses and the most powerful of them all, the man who is said to possess the kind of power that comes once in a century, the king, Gojo Satoru.

The second kinds, your kind, people who are born without power. Even if they are born into the wealthiest of families they are bound to live in the shadows of sorcerers. You were neither born into a noble clan nor did you have any power. All you had was your strength and grit.

You joined the forces to fight against the curses. What use were you to the kingdom without power? They always needed people like you to do the menial tasks during the war and use your sword to the best of your abilities. That you did very well. In a span of four years you climbed through the ranks fighting against the sexism and the casual disdain against you. It has changed you, hardened you. Now you were a rebel amongst legends and infamous amongst the infantry.

But unbeknownst to you, there was someone who was watching your every move. Before the time you joined the ranks to the day of your knighthood. You were good. Fearless. Kind. But you were too far. Too far for his liking.The only way to fix that was to bring you closer to him. He wished he could reach out to you when he saw you on the battlefield. While he did protect you on the field with his powers, he wished desperately to be able to mend your wounds and kiss the pain away. But it was not ideal for the king to run across the battlefield and cradle a foot soldier. He wished he could lay next to you and wipe your tears but he could only watch from his ivory tower. It was the best use of his six eyes. When he was presented with the list of names to be considered for King’s knight he didn’t even look at it and presented his own recommendation. Who dared reject the king’s recommendation?

Gojo lay on the silk bed sheets as the moonlight filtered through the curtains. He stared at the ceiling with a smile on his face. Tomorrow he will finally have you close to him. He still remembered the first time he met you, 20 years ago. He was out in the kingdom with his father and had run off from the procession and snuck into a back alley of a bakery. There instead of sweet delicacies he ran into the sweetest girl he had ever seen. She sat at the steps of the bakery in a red dress with two pigtails with a white ribbon tied at the end. Gojo was dumbfounded and simply stared at her. Was she the fairies his mother told him about?

“ The bakery is closed! Come after 2 PM”. She said as she took a bite of her cupcake.

“What’s your name?”. He asked as he stepped towards her.

“My grandma told me not to talk to strangers”.

Gojo was dumbfounded. He stared at her blankly.

The girl rolled her eyes, “What do you want?”.

Gojo snapped out of his thoughts. “I…I want to buy…I want…I want what you are having”.

She got off the steps and stood in front of him. She extended the half eaten cupcake and shrugged. “This is the last one and the bakery is closed”.

Gojo stared at the cupcake, he had never eaten a half eaten cake. Heck he had never had to share anything in his life. But he stretched his arm forward to grab the cupcake and right before he could grab hold of the sweet delicacy the girl withdrew her arm and shoved the entire cupcake in her mouth. She grinned with lips littered with crumbs and mouth full of cupcakes. To his surprise instead of anger or contempt his heart was filled with this foreign feeling. It made him feel warm and he smiled at her.She was the embodiment of light, her toothy smile made his heart race and time stop. Before he could ask her name or give her his’ the guards surrounded him and led him back to his father. Before they could drag him away he stretched out his arm and grab hold of one of the silk ribbons.That’s all he had of hers now. For years Gojo tied that ribbon on his wrist. When it got too small for his wrist he tied it to his bedpost. The Kingdom grew and wars were won but he remembered the bakery and he remembered her. She never left his mind and once he was old enough to command power he had her details in front of her. Y/n L/n.

-X-

Gojo stared at his reflection in the mirror. After two hours of going through an array of clothes, he finally decided on the staple navy blue with velvet red cape. He looked at the watch and realized there were still hours before the ceremony. It was getting harder for him to wait any longer, he had to see you once so he took the cape and the medals off and wore a long black trench coat and snuck out of his room.

He knew where all the to-be-guards would be waiting. He stood behind the curtains at the entrance and scanned the room for you but he didn’t see you. Did you refuse the position last minute? Did something happen to you on the way? He frowned and turned around to walk back to his room but stopped in his tracks when he saw you walking next to another man. Your hair was toed back neatly and your smile…it made time stop.But rage filled his nerves as she saw you laugh and punch the other man on the shoulder. Why were you touching him? Why was he making you laugh? Your silver batch, indicating your knighthood, shone brightly as you walked past him without sparing him another glance. His heart broke. You had forgotten him. He spent every day of the last 20 years thinking about you and you didn’t even remember him! Your scent lingered in the air as he stood there basking in it. Was he that forgettable? What was he going to do now? With anger in his eyes and sadness in his veins he was about to walk away.

“Oi!”. Someone called out from behind but Gojo was so lost in his thoughts he ignored it.

“Oi white hair!”.

Gojo frowned and clenched his jaw. Who dared speak to him like that. He turned around ready to order his men to behead the imbecile but his anger evaporated when he saw you standing behind him with a smirk on your face. You were talking to him. You were talking to him!

“Ye…Yes?”. He asked hesitantly. Unsure of whether you knew who he was or not.

“I owe you this''. You extended your hand forward and held a cupcake in your hand.

Gojo stared dumbfounded at the cupcake. His heart raced faster than the best horses in the kingdom. You remembered him. All those years of planning to get you here was not a waste. You remembered him. He looked at you and let out a shuddered breath at how beautiful you looked. Your hair was in a neat ponytail above your head, even the metal armor you wore looked so delicate. Your eyes held the same hope and your smile, Gojo was ready to wage wars for that smile.

“You…you..remember me?”.

You chuckled, “Of course I do! Do you want this one or should I shove it in my mouth?”.

Gojo chuckled and took the cupcake from your hand. “Thanks”. You looked different up close. Better. Prettier. You carried the same light within you as you did 20 years ago.

“Are you here for the ceremony as well?”. You chirped.

“Yes…kind of”.

You nodded your head and looked at him. He was just the same. Shy. Timid. “You have really pretty eyes''. You said absentmindedly. You didn’t know how the words fell out of your mouth but god were they true.

Gojo’s eyes widened. You just complimented him? This was the first time you had complimented him!

“Ummm yeah..thank..thank you”. He said, too shy to meet your eyes. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He wanted to be confident and strong for you and yet he was stuttering like a child.”What are you doing here?”. He feigned ignorance.

“I am about to be knighted to be the King’s personal guard”.

“Congratulations”. He smiled politely.

“Thank you. What about you? I haven’t seen you in the ranks so…I guess you are not a knight”.

Gojo cursed himself mentally. “Umm yeah. I work in ….administration”. Not a lie, Gojo thought to himself.

“Nice.By the way, have you ever met the king? I’ve heard some pretty interesting things about him”.

“No…I haven’t met the king..”. Gojo said, confused. Who was spreading rumors about him to you? Before he could ask any further about the baseless rumors another man came from behind him and wrapped his arms around you.

“Niko! My man! So good to see you!”. You said as you returned the hug.

Gojo watched you exchange formalities with Niko. When Niko had taken his leave you turned towards Gojo once again. “You were saying something?”.

“Is that guy your….man?”.

You frowned and looked at Niko, “oh him? No. I mean not like that. We have been in the ranks together since the beginning and he has saved my ass so many times!”.

Gojo smiled and looked down at his feet. If only you knew how many times he saved you from getting killed. “I see…what were you saying about the king?”.

“Oh right! I have heard that he thinks only those with curse techniques deserve to occupy the ranks! Can you even believe him?! What a jerk! If that was true then people like me would always be treated like shit and would never get a chance to fight those curses!”.

Gojo hummed. Though it was true that he believed that, you were here weren’t you? Though he believed it would never be acted on because he understood the importance of balance. “But..If that were true then…you wouldn’t be here”.

“You see that’s where you’re wrong. It’s not about what he does. That fact that he says those things gives sorcerers even more reasons to..to bully us. Because now their ideology aligns with that of the king and the so called sorcerer king can never be wrong. What a joke!”.

Gojo chuckled nervously. That stung Gojo. But you were right. It’s not only actions but also his words that have a ripple effect and eventually hurt the one he loves.

“But..wait…how do you know that I am not a sorcerer?”.

“I can tell”. Gojo added immediately, cursing himself. “Why did you join ranks?”. He asked immediately, hoping to change the conversation. Though he had a faint idea about it.

You smiled sadly,”You remember the bakery? It was owned by my grandmother. When the war began, the curses destroyed the town and ..killed her. So I decided that I will fight them until I am satisfied that I have avenged her”.

Gojo sighed. He remembered that war. Many died and many went missing. He was about 20 that time. The war had lasted for over a week and after a week he was able to create a shield around the kingdom to prevent any curses from getting in. He felt guilty now, if only he would have been strong enough back then he would have been able to save the bakery and you wouldn’t be risking your life everyday. “I’m sorry to hear that”.

You sighed and shrugged. “That’s alright. Anyway we should go before the so-called ‘strongest’ arrives”.

“I have something to take care of, you should go. I’ll see you soon”.

“Okaaaay. What’s your name though? Or would you rather I call you snow white?”.

Gojo smiled fondly and took a bite off the cupcake. “You can call me whatever you want”. He winked and turned around and walked aways.

“Who was that?”. Niko asked you when you finally joined him and the others.

“Just some nobel guy I met years ago”.

“Ooooh you are fishing already?”. Niko smirked.

“Oh! Fuck off! I am just happy to make friends”.

“He seems weird”.

“Maybe, he was just nervous. It is a pretty important day”.

Amante, another woman in your ranks joined in, “I think he was quite handsome”. She smiled sweetly. But that was Amante, she was too sweet and too polite to be in this line of work.

Niko shrugged, “You know what they say about these noble guys right? They don’t last long in bed! His handsomeness alone is not enough”.

You rolled your eyes at his comments. “Don’t listen to him, Amante. If you want I will happily introduce you to him and you are right, he is quite handsome”.

“Do you really think so?”. Niko asked, sipping from his chalice. He stood tall next to you, his brown hair neatly combed back and his sharp jawline freshly shaved. But from this angle you could tell the places he nicked himself. His brown eyes looked like honey in this light and though you would never admit it, you were jealous of his eyelashes.

“Yeah. I think he was quite good looking”.

“Better than me?”. Niko smirked.

You shook your head and ignored his comment. He was just being..Niko.

-X-

It was a closed ceremony, only those to be knighted to be king’s guards were allowed to be there. The other ranks were commemorated by the chief of troops while you waited at the back and watched with pride as your friends got their lapel decorated. You wondered when it would be your turn and would you get to meet the king today? It came as a surprise that you were the only one appointed as the King’s guard, a non sorcerer vowing to protect the sorcerer king. Suddenly it didn’t feel right.

“Ma’am, he’s waiting for you”.

You turned and looked at the older man bowing next to you. “Who is waiting for me?”.

“His highness the King”.

You blinked blankly and looked at your friends in the other end of the room. You nodded your head and got up to follow the man.

You walked two steps behind the man wondering why was your coronation held separately and why couldn’t the king take some time off to know the people who swore to protect him a few rooms down the hall.

“What’s your name?”. You asked, looking around and admiring the heavy velvet curtains.

“Ijichi”. The man replied in a tired tone.

“How do I address you?”.

“You may call me Ijichi”.

You hummed. “May I ask you a question Ijichi-san?”.

“Yes”.

“What is the king like?”.

“He is the strongest sorcerer”.

You chuckled. That's what everyone says anyway. “I mean…as a person”.

Ijichi let out a tired sigh that made you wonder whether he didn’t like the king or he didn’t like you. “He is ..Eccentric”.

“Eccentric?”. You corked a brow.

“Yes. You will find out soon”.

You didn’t want to trouble him anymore so continued to follow him quietly.

Soon you found yourself outside a large wooden door with gold handles. Ijichi turned towards you and smiled, “His highness is waiting inside. If you need anything, you may call me anytime”.

“Thank you, Ijichi-san”.

“-and…The King is a good person. So don’t be hasty in making your judgment”. Ijichi smiled.

It was probably the first time you heard a little life in his voice. You smiled and nodded your head. “I’ll keep that in mind”.

Ijichci took his leave and you stood outside the door staring at the gold inlay, wondering why would the strongest sorcerer appoint a non-sorcerer as the King’s guard?. Your heart was beating loudly and fear crept into your heart. You fought curses with just your sword and yet you were questioning yourself, it didn’t make any sense.

“I can sense you standing outside”. The voice echoed from inside making you jolt backwards. He knew you were here. There was no going back now.So you took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Snowwhite?”. You chuckled as you saw the back of the head of your old friend but when he turned around your smile dropped and eyes widened. You saw the medals on his lapel and the seal on his collar. Your eyes drifted to the crown kept on a stand nearby and your throat ran dry. You immediately kneeled on one knee and brought your fist to your heart and bowed in greeting to the king. “Your Highness”.

“Stand up, y/n”.

You got up but refused to look him in the eye. You could sense that he was walking towards you and suddenly the rose on the carpet was covered by a pair of black boots.

Gojo placed his index finger below your chin and tilted it up, to look closely at the face he has been dreaming about. “Hello, y/n”.

You took a step back and stomped your feet. “It’s an honor to meet you, your highness”.

Gojo sighed, “Drop it already, will you?”.

You looked up at him, confused. “I..don’t understand you-”.

“Drop the formalities. We are friends. You can call me Satoru”.

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “I..I am sorry your highness…for..what I said”.

“Why? You were right”.

“I..meant the terms I used to describe you..”

Gojo laughed. “That’s alright. You are my friend so that’s okay”.

“I am supposed to be your guard, your highness”. You said sternly.

Gojo realized it will take time for you to open up to him, he had waited years now, he could wait a little more.

“Alright, do what feels right for you. If you have any questions then do not hesitate to ask me”. Gojo smiled as he clasped his hands behind his back.

“I do have one…question”.

“Go ahead”.

“Why did you choose me to be your guard? I am not a sorcerer and you are the strongest sorcerer”.

Gojo smiled to himself. He had expected this question which is why he prompted you to ask in the first place. “Because you are capable. You are more capable than some of the sorcerers. It is not the curses I need the protection from, it is non-sorcerers”.

His response left a bittersweet feeling in your heart. “I don’t have any more questions, your highness”.

“Are you sure?”. Gojo corked a brow.

“Yes, Your Highness”.

“So you don’t want to know what I was doing at the bakery that day and why do I remember you?”.

You were taken by surprise. You had heard of his powers but many were still hidden, was mind reading one of his powers?. Regardless, you were determined to keep things professional between the two of you, you had already offended him enough. “Your Highness is kind enough to remember me”.

Gojo’s jaw clenched in irritation. This was not his kindness. This was his love. You were his love. But of course how could you know that? For you, you had met him after two decades. Unlike him you were not aware of his life. “It’s more than kindness y/n. You were the second person ever to treat me like an equal. I consider you my friend and friends , protect each other”.

You smiled politely, “Yes, Your Highness”.

Gojo smiled and straightened up. “Let’s get to business shall we?”.

“Yes, Your Highness”.

“First things first, I do not place much value on the old rituals of reading out your duties and having you take the oath. You are an honorable woman and I trust you that you will do your duty diligently”.

You stomped your right foot and pressed your fist to your heart, “Yes, Your highness. I promise you I will put my life on the line for-”.

“Everything except that”. Gojo cut you off. “I don’t want you to put your life on the line for me. Do not even think about sacrificing your life for me. Just stay by my side and…that’s it”.

You gulped nervously. “Ye..Yes, Your Highness”.

“Now, where were we?...right! You don’t need to wear that heavy armor anymore. I have asked the atelier to take your measurement and have your uniform ready. Ijichi will show you your room after your fitting, you can rest today and explore the palace grounds, in the evening we will meet at the stable where you will get to pick your horse, then you will join me for dinner. Is that clear?”.

“Yes, You-”.

“Just a yes will do”.

“Ye..yes. Clear”.

Gojo smiled. “Good. Tomorrow you will show up at my office at 7:00 AM and accompany me throughout the day”.

“Yes”.

-X-

You walked towards his office in your newly fitted uniform. It was eerily similar to his’. Navy trousers paired with a white shirt and a heavy navy blue overcoat. Your Knight’s badge shone on the left lapel and your cufflinks were just like his’. You wondered if it was on his demand or was just a norm. But your favorite part of the uniform were the stitched white roses on the inside of the overcoat. Absolutely hidden from the outside world, they were your own personal ornament. Your horse too was the same as his. A beautiful white beast with flowing silver hair. When standing side by side it was hard to differentiate between the two horses. When you asked Ijichi, he informed you that the other horse, the female counterpart, was bred and trained to be a companion to the male counterpart and Gojo had forbidden everyone from riding it. A part of you thought that he was saving her for you but that can’t be true right? How was he to know that you would meet after all these years. It was a surprise that he even remembered you.

Even your old sword was replaced with a newer one. To fight the curse, every non-sorcerer needed a special blade which needed to be pierced in the head of the curse to eradicate it. As the soldier moved up the ranks the sword was replaced by a more powerful one. As a King’s personal guard you were sure this was the most powerful blade to exist. But fighting alone was not enough. To protect yourself from the attack, you had a shield embedded in your amulet. All you needed to do was unclasp the lock on your inner wrist and a tiny amulet was turned into a full sized shield. Your new amulet was made out of white gold and had roses carved into them. It made a pretty shield.

Your room was thrice the size of your old house. It was too spacious and you couldn’t believe that it was all yours. Everything from the carpet to curtains was made out of finest quality material. Your bed was soft as a cloud and your wardrobe was filled with your uniforms for different occasions. Your tattered leather bag seemed out of place in this opulence. You walked to the window and to your surprise you could see right on the King’s balcony. Maybe it was a security measure. You thought about him, how he treated you like an old friend even after all the things you said about him. He was not how others, especially Niko, had painted him out to be. He wasn’t aggressive, or crazy. He was gentle, Kind, and considerate. You didn’t realize you were staring at his balcony until he walked out and you immediately stepped back, hoping he didn’t notice you.

After a long sleepless night of thinking you decided that it would be best to stick to your rules rather than obey his’. He might be kind and considerate but he was still a King, a sorcerer king, and a sorcerer and non-sorcerer can never be friends. You had never hated sorcerers. Not until the war. When you saw your grandmother lying unconscious on the floor you developed a deep seeded hatred for sorcerers. If only this was a world without sorcerers and curses then your grandma would still be alive. You joined the ranks because the only thing you hated more than sorcerers was curses.

You knocked on the door sternly, “Your Highness, may I enter?”. You asked. You could almost hear him sigh on the other end before granting you the permission to enter.

“I told you not to call me that”. He chuckled and shook his head. He sat behind the oak desk resting his chin on his knuckles.

“That’s the appropriate way to address-”.

“”I decide what is appropriate”. Gojo cut you off.

“As you say, your highness”. You smiled and took your place next to him. You stood with your hands pressed to your sides and your gaze fixed on the door in front.

“Are you going to stand all day?”.

“Yes”.

“What if I ask you to sit?”. He looked up at you.

“I can best react to a threat in this position”.

Gojo bit the inside of his cheeks, “Threat? What threat is there now?”.

“A threat does not extend an invitation…not even to the king”.

Gojo clenched his jaw. Who turned you against him? Everything was fine yesterday, whom did you meet? What did they say?. He frowned and cleared his throat. “I don’t need you to protect me”.

“I see”. You hummed. “So I am just an accessory here”.

Gojo stood up immediately and turned you towards him. By protocol, you refused to meet his eyes. He placed an index finger below your jaw and tildted your head up, “Look at me”. He whispered.

You slowly lifted your gaze up and looked into his deep blue ones. “I apologize for my rudeness ,your highness”.

“Did someone say something to you?”.

“No, your highness”.

“Y/n… I want you to remember that no one, in this entire kingdom holds any power over you. No one can remove you from my side, not without my permission…and that I would never grant. So tell me now, what happened?”.

“Nothing happened, your highness”. You said, it was hard to avert your gaze from his eyes. They were hypnotic, like they held the secrets buried deep beneath the oceans. If you looked long enough, you were sure you could count each speckle. They changed color when he moved his head, you had never seen anything of such beauty. You had heard about the secrets of six eyes, the power they held. But now you wondered, maybe their biggest power is their beauty. Anyone who looks deep enough would find themselves trapped in the infinite void.

“Y/n,?”. Gojo called out to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You jolted and stepped back immediately, “I apologize, your highness!”.

“What were you thinking?”. Gojo asked, sitting on the edge of the table.

“Nothing, your highness!”.

“I order you to tell me the truth”. Gojo smiled. If you were going to abide by the protocol then so would he.

“I..I just..You have beautiful eyes, your highness!”. You declared like you were rallying a message instead of speaking your mind.

Gojo smiled to himself. It was the second time you had complimented his eyes.. “You have told me that already but thank you. Now I order you to speak freely to me. Tell me every thought that crosses your mind, is that clear?”.

“Yes..your highness!”.

Gojo raised a brow and tilted his head, indicating you to speak up.

“Firstly, I am sorry for what I said to you yesterday outside the hall. Clearly I did not know whom I was talking to. Secondly….”. You bit the inside of your cheeks. Your rebel attitude might have gotten you far in troops but this is the King you are talking to. He can blow a hole through your body.

“Secondly?”. Gojo asked.

Aahh well fuck it. If you die then you die speaking the truth. “It was your fault!”.

“My fault?”. Gojo asked, confused.

“Yes! What were you doing there? Why were you sneaking around in your own palace? Are you that bored? Why didn’t you tell me that you were the king? Or were you spying on me? Did you have fun teasing me?”. You blurted out in one breath, prepared to take your last any minute now.

Gojo chuckled. Then he laughed. “Wow…okay. You’re right. It was my fault. I apologize”.

Your breath hitched and you looked around hesitantly. Did he just… Did the king just apologize? To you?

“What else is bothering you?”. He asked.

You scoffed, “I didn’t realize this was a therapy session”.

Gojo chuckled. “This is…get to know my guard session”.

“Speaking of guards…I know why I am here. By your side”.

Gojo’s heart skipped a beat. Did you really…

“Why is that?”.

You took a deep breath, “I heard the counsel talking … while I was going back to my room. I didn’t mean to snitch! And I am not complaining either!”.

“What..what did they say?”. Gojo asked irritatedly. He hated the counsel, always breathing down his neck, interfering with his work, demanding answers, but above all he hated them because of their mindset. Now he had another reason on his list.

“Well…They said that the only reason you chose me was because if you had chosen someone more powerful..a sorcerer then it would have become easier for them to keep you in line. So to keep them at bay you chose me because of my reputation but also because I am of absolute no use to you..”. You looked down at your hands clasped in front. “…or anyone actually”.

Gojo gritted his teeth. Those rotten old raisins dared make you feel this way. He was going to avenge you. It was only fair. He sent a signal, invisible to your eyes and sat back in his chair. “Take your position, we are going to punish them”. Gojo winked.

“But you don’t even know who they were. I don’t even know they were”.

“Only two people will have the audacity to say something like that”.

Soon two men walked in with their heads bowed down. “Your highness”.

You watched them keenly. It was definitely them. But you wondered what Gojo would do.

“Hizashi-san! I have good news for you!”.

The taller one out of the two straightened up. “Your highness you have honored me enough”. The old man smiled politely. He looked at you sideways and Gojo wanted to gouge his eyes out.

“Clearly not enough, Hizashi-san”. Gojo added. “Would Hizashi-san and Kyoshi-san appreciate the opportunity to help advance our understanding of curse techniques?”.

The other man stood up and looked at Gojo wide eyed. The last time Gojo had presented this opportunity to someone, That man was sent on a tour around the world and became a millionaire overnight. No one would dare refuse this opportunity.

The two men exchanged glances. Having been partners in crime for over two decades the two of them had the same vision in mind, leave the conservative kingdom and their annoying families behind and travel the world to meet exotic women! All they had to do in return was write a small thesis which they could fake because who was going to verify it anyway. They agreed right away and after discussing other small matters with him they left with a satisfied smile on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would reward them”. You commented with a sour taste in your mouth.

Gojo chuckled. “No. I did not reward them. Tonight when my soldiers will go to pick them up, they will be expecting to be led to the royal ship and begin their world travel. I am sure they would soon spread the news and before lunch everyone would know about it. But my soldiers will not lead them to the royal ship”.

You bit the inside of your lip, “Where will they be going then?”.

“They will be led to a dungeon outside the palace walls, where they will be thrown in with curses”.

“But they are sorcerers, experienced sorcerers?”.

“I am sure you are aware that even sorcerers have grades, the curses they will come across will be far beyond their imagination. I can assure you they won’t survive the torture till morning”.

“Torture?!”. You gasped.

Gojo smiled. Your innocence was sweeter than any honey head tasted. “Not every curse wants to ..kill. Some just want revenge from humans that created them. Death is too easy of a punishment for such…people”.

-X-

You lay awake at night in your bed. Thinking about how Gojo just condemned two people to death by torture only because they insulted you. You couldn’t sleep, thinking about the two men, who would now be on their way to death, blissfully unaware, excited by the prospects ahead of them. It dawned on you that the curses were not the that would torture them, it was Gojo. You groaned in your pillow. You needed a drink.

The communal kitchen was open at all hours of the day. It was mostly used by guards looking for a late night snack after the night shift or sleepless guards who needed a drink to wash away the events of the day. You remained quiet as you poured the wine from a wooden flask into a glass. It was strictly against the rules to take away any eatables and wine back to the room but you were oh so tempted to take the entire flask back to your room. So you did. The rules be damned.

If you had the ability to sense curse energies then the surprise awaiting you would have been spoiled and maybe you could have saved the flask of wine. But as soon as you opened the door, you saw the white haired sorcerer standing near your window with his hands behind his back, and the flask slipped from your hand, spilling the wine between the two of you, creating a small puddle of red. “Your Highness! I..I didn’t get your summon!”.

Gojo shifted his gaze from the puddle of wine to you. “Tough night?”. He smiled.

“I’m sorry. I know it is against the rules but I..needed something strong. I was going to return the flask! I swear!”.

Gojo chuckled. “I understand. But now I feel guilty for ruining your plans”. He smiled.

“Oh no. I..I can clean it up in no time”. You rubbed the back of your neck. “Did you need anything, Your Highness?”.

Gojo suddenly realized that he did need a reason to see you. He couldn’t tell you that it was getting tough for him to sleep without you.”Oh! Right! I uh..I could not sleep either …..so..I..do you want to drink together?”.

“Now?”. You asked, wide eyed. There were no rules about drinking with the king so maybe it was allowed..

“Yes. I can get someone to clean up your room”.

You bit your lip nervously as you considered the offer. “I don’t know…I have to work tomorrow and…”.

“I am sure I can convince your boss to let you arrive a little late”. Gojo smiled his victory smile which left a fluttering feeling in your stomach. In moments like this it didn’t feel like he was the king. He felt like a friend. You liked that feeling.

-X-

You sat on the floor with Gojo, your head resting against the couch, giggling like long lost friends. One empty bottle of wine and one half filled bottle stood tall between the two of you.

“Tell me more about your life”. Gojo prompted.

“It is quite boring”. You added and took a sip from the crystal glass.

“Not to me”.

"Are you that bored of your life?”. You raised a brow.

“Not bored of my life, just interested in yours”.

“Well then, what would you like to know?”.

Gojo hummed and thought for a second, “Have you ever been married?”. Gojo asked. He knew the answer to that but he couldn’t ask directly if you had a boyfriend.

Your smile dropped for a second and Gojo’s heart sank. “I didn’t mean to-”.

“It’s fine”. You cut him off with a smile. “It was quite long ago so it doesn’t matter anymore”. You shrugged and took a sip.

“So you were….married?”.

“Engaged. Well..almost engaged”.

Gojo’s heart was now beating loudly against his chest. How did he miss this?. “Why not, completely engaged?”. He asked, trying to keep his anger out of his words.

“Well because the guy…he cheated on me”.

“What?!”. Gojo frowned. How could he miss such an important detail? Who was this vermin who caused you so much pain?

“Yeah. We were together for quite some time but we managed to keep it hidden from everyone around us. When I decided to join the ranks he…didn’t like it. We had plans, you see. We wanted to work together to save enough money and re-build the bakery, get married, and all the other rosy-dosy stuff. I wanted to join the ranks because building the bakery was not enough for me. I wanted to avenge my grandma. Anyway, One day I returned from my training and found him with one of my friends..and I knew I couldn’t stay there anymore”. You took a deep breath and sniffled. “So I left the place and stayed with the troops and here I am”.

Gojo remained silent. He knew you were currently in a legal battle with a man over the bakery but he did not know that this was the back story. He could have the bakery renovated and signed over to you before the sun rises but that would only drive you away. He wanted you to share these things with him so he could freely help you and gain your trust. “What happened to the bakery?”.

You swallowed painfully. “He took it from me. When I left, he forged the papers and took the bakery from me. He comes from a strong clan and I couldn’t do anything. I filed a case two years ago and there have hardly been four hearings”. You gave a defeated shrug, “It is highly unlikely it will go in my favor”.

Gojo hummed. Now he could make his move.

“Enough about me, If I may be bold enough to ask, have you ever been in love, your-highness?”.

Gojo smiled to himself, “Yes. I have. In fact I am still in love with her”.

For some reason, the last part left a bitter feeling in your heart. You felt sad. But you shook it off to too much wine. “And..will we be getting a queen soon?”.

Gojo chuckled. “It is not going to be easy. I am not sure whether she feels the same”.

“Who can reject you?”. You spoke almost too immediately, making Gojo laugh.

“You think so?”.

“Yes! I mean.. You seem like a good person and you are…good looking and of course you are the king”.

“The problem is that I am the king”.

You straightened up immediately and looked at him wide-eyed. “Is she a commoner? Or from a different kingdom?”.

“She is not from a different kingdom”. Gojo added.

“Wow!..you are in love with a commoner”.

“She is not a commoner either”. Gojo chuckled. He was having too much fun teasing you.

You frowned and looked confused. “So..if she is a noble-woman then what’s the problem? You can just go up to her and tell her that you love her”.

“Can I really do that?”. Gojo took a sip and looked at you from behind the rim of the glass.

Even though you were slightly drunk, you were sure you felt the atmosphere shift. His voice turned an octave lower and the way he looked at you left your nerves tingling.

“I mean..yeah..Only a fool would reject such an offer”. You stuttered.

“I want her to love me but not because I am the king”.

“Wow..you are really something. Respect!”.

Gojo threw his head back and laughed.

“Wait! Is that why you appointed me? So you could ask me for tips to impress a woman? Oh my god your-highness!”. You laughed and shook your head. “Such a terrible decision!”. You shook your head and continued to laugh.

Gojo looked at you, it had been years since he last laughed like this. Since he was this happy. He watched your curly dance in the air as you shook your head, how your lips were tainted wine red and he was sure they would taste heavenly, the blush on your cheeks had his head spinning. He couldn’t believe that this was finally happening. He had waited twenty years for this moment and he was glad he did.

“Alright, Your highness, I should leave now. Can’t be drunk and sleep deprived on duty”. You began to stand up and Gojo followed. Blood rushed to your head and dark spots lined your vision and you tripped backwards but instead of falling back you balanced yourself in the last second, leaving Gojo’s arm hanging behind you. “Woopsie! Sorry about that”. You chuckled and kept your glass on the side table.

Gojo smiled and shook his head. Sometimes he forgot that this is all new for you. He had to be cautious and earn your trust the right way. One wrong move can push you away and he could not afford that. “Goodnight, y/n”.

“Goodnight, your-highness”.

Gojo stood on his balcony, leaning against the marble railing and sipping the last of wine but from your glass. Somehow it tasted sweeter. He watched your window keenly, waiting for you to reach. When the lights flicked on, he smiled to himself. He waited until the lights turned off and walked back in with a smile on his face.

-X-

The sun shone bright in the sky as you and Gojo sat under the shade of the tent and watched other soldiers spar. It was part of the regular training and it was his duty as the King to be present and motivate the soldiers. You sat next to him in a less ornamented chair and watched keenly. Few years ago you had been one of them, though you doubted if Gojo ever came to see you fight. But regardless, two hunks sparing was a sight to behold. Yes you were on duty but you could indulge in some eye candy. The soldiers fought in only loose trousers hanging low on the hip, you watched as their muscles flexed and relaxed under the sun.

“Y/n..”. Gojo called out to you but you seem distracted. “..y/n!”. He called out again and you snapped your head in his direction.

“Yes! Your-highness!”.

“Enjoying the show?”. Gojo asked, frowning at the slight blush on your cheeks.

“Who wouldn’t?”. You retorted.

Gojo bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. He turned his head towards the soldiers and cursed himself for bringing you here. What was he thinking, letting you watch half-naked soldiers brawl with each other? He stood up and started unbuttoning his coat.

You stood up behind him, “Your-highness, what are you doing?”.

“I think it would be really motivating for the troops to see me fight, don’t you agree?”. Gojo smirked as he handed you the coat and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”.

“Why not?”. Gojo asked, struggling with one particular button.

“It can be dangerous”.

Goojo paused and stared at the ground. It was a massive hit on his ego. You thought him to be weak. “What did you say?”.

You sucked in a sharp breath and clutched his coat in your hand. “I..I mean that, you are a sorcerer and these men are not. It wouldn’t be a fair fight”.

“Who said that I was going to use any curse techniques?” He frowned.

You could sense that you had offended him to some degree but there was no going back. He had an innate ability to sense lies and you did not want to risk lying on top of insulting him. “These men have relied only on their capabilities and strength to survive on battlefields. That’s all they know”.

Gojo hummed. “Pick one”.

“Pick one..what?”.

Gojo turned towards you with his shirt half buttoned and you had to fight every instinct to not avert your gaze. “Pick the strongest soldier”.

“I don’t think that’s a good-”.

“y/n…Pick one.Now”. Gojo spoke sternly.

You remained silent, your quick tongue had gotten you into this place. You stared at him blankly, hoping that he would give up his pursuit soon. “You are the strong-”.

“Y/n!”. Gojo yelled, you flinched, everyone stopped and stared.

You let out a shuddered breath and looked at the row of soldiers, standing tall with their hands behind their back. Each of them seemed capable, yet your eyes landed on the one at the very end. He was almost as tall as Gojo and twice his size.You were unsure if you should really pick him or go for someone slightly weaker. But, Gojo had caught your gaze, he looked at the man and smiled like a devil. “Him? You think he is the strongest?”.

“Ye–yes, your-highness”. You admitted.

Gojo hummed and gestured for the man to step forward. He removed his shirt over his head in one quick motion and threw it on the chair. When you saw just how physically fit he was, it felt like someone punched all the air out of you. Who, in a million, years would have guessed that this existed beneath all those layers of clothes. Sure he was tall and broad but who could have guessed that he was this fit? You had spent years in camps with some of the strongest men in the kingdom but you knew now that they didn’t call him the strongest for his curse techniques alone. When Gojo stood opposite to the other soldier, you suddenly felt bad for the poor man. Gojo not only, towered over the man but also there was hardly any difference in their physical form.

They shook hands and bowed curtly and began. You were erect in your place, like a statue of a shell-shocked woman. As you watched Gojo deflect and attack in the same breath you wondered if it was even possible to do so.It was a move you had tried many times but failed to perfect and Gojo did it like it was as easy as breathing .The dust from the ground now clung to his skin and when the two men locked hands you knew it was over for the other guy. You realized…witnessed the difference between size and strength. Though you were no sorcerer, it was evident that Gojo was not using any curse techniques. Everything was raw and real. You could see the other soldier struggling to retain balance as Gojo landed one attack after another, hardly letting the other man catch his breath. The soldier was getting angry too, you could tell it was a matter of self respect for him as well and he was really giving it his all.You looked at Gojo and swallowed painfully, He was angry .A gust of wind had you covering your eye with the back of your hand to shield it from the dust, when the wind settled and you brought your hand down, you heard cheering and clapping. Amidst the cloud of dust you saw Gojo walking towards you, he had no expression on his face. He wasn’t happy that he won. People were cheering for him and yet it didn’t faze him. He refused to look at you and took the coat from your hand and walked away.

“Your-highness!”. You yelled as you chased after him. He didn’t even bother to look back as you ran through the corridors after him. “Your-highness!”. You huffed as you caught up to him but he refused to stop and kept walking. You tried your best to keep up with his long strides but it wasn’t easy. He had never walked this fast. “I..I apologize for my-“.

Before you could finish that sentence, with one flick of his finger Gojo shut the door on your face. You stepped back and stared at the door. He was mad at you. “Fuck”. You muttered under your breath and took your place outside the door.

Gojo rested his head against the rim of the marble tub and closed his eyes. His anger was slowly fading away with the ache in his muscle. He had to do it, he thought to himself, he had to show you that he wasn’t physically weak only because he had cursed techniques. It hurt him that you undermined him. It hurt him that you thought he needed protection when it was his job to protect you. He remembered the glint in your eyes as you saw the men fight, it was only natural for a fellow soldier to admire and respect the strength of others but it hurt him. Only he deserved to be admired by you. It hurt him to not see you the entire day, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear the look of admiration for another man in your eye.

Gojo stepped on the balcony in his velvet robe and looked at your window, the lights were off. It was well past dinner time and usually this was the time you would be in your room, reading a book. Then why are your lights off? Why weren’t you in your room? Were you out with someone else? Your friend, Niko? Or one of the men you met today? His blood boiled and he stormed out of his room and walked down the hallway connecting his bedroom and office through a back door. He was hoping to find you in the office, waiting for him with a bottle of wine but he found the office just as dark and empty as your bedroom. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.His mistakes finally caught up to him and now he couldn’t shake off the look on your face when he yelled at you. He closed his eyes shut and cursed himself, he treated you badly. He realized that now. He had to apologize to you, He had to correct his mistakes.He was about to send a signal to locate you when he heard a faint noise coming from the other side of the door.

Gojo walked slowly towards the door, immediately turning on his infinity. He pressed his palm flatly against the wood, trying to catch a hint of curse energy but found nothing. He frowned and slowly opened the door.

“Your-highness!”. You straightened up immediately when you saw Gojo through the crack in the door.

“Y/n?”.Gojo frowned. “Yes, your-highness!”.

Gojo opened the door completely and looked either way but found no one. “What..what are you doing here?”.

You bit your lip nervously as you tried to keep your eyes away from his partially exposed chest. Now that you had seen him, it was hard to not imagine what lies underneath the robe. “You haven’t dismissed me yet, your-highness?”.

Gojo opened his mouth to say something but shook his head, “You..you have been here all day..because I didn’t dismiss you for the day?”.

“Yes,your-highness!”.

Gojo’s heart sank to his stomach. He looked at you, even in the dim lights, he could tell you were tired. “You are dismissed for the day”. Gojo added. He could see your posture relax as you indeed and gave a curt bow.

“Goodnight, your-highness”. You turned around to walk away but Gojo was quick to grab your wrist.

“Stay”. He said.

You turned around, and glared at him,”Why?”.

Gojo let go of your wrist and took a deep breath. “Have dinner with me”.

“Is that an order?”.

Gojo sighed, “No. It’s a..request”.

You raised a brow, “It didn’t sound like one”.

“Will you…please…have dinner with me?”. Gojo asked, hesitantly. This was probably the fourth time in his life he had to request something.

“Are you still mad at me?”. Gojo asked, as he watched you finish your second bowl of rice”.

“Yes”. You replied, not looking at him and leaning over to grab the bowl of soup.

“Why?”. Gojo whined and slid the soup bowl towards you.

“You yelled at me!”. You said, slamming the bowl on the table

“You undermined me in front of everyone”. Gojo added.

“I didn’t undermine you. I was just protecting you. That’s my job!”. You replied, while struggling to open the bottle of wine.

“No! You..you thought that I was not strong enough!”. Gojo grabbed the bottle from you and opened it in one go.

“And you proved me wrong so congratulations you won!”. You huffed, pouring the wine in two goblets.

“Then why are you still mad at me?!”.

“Because…you slammed the door in my face, refused to listen to me, and made me stand out there all day!”.

Uncomfortable silence lingered in the air. Gojo could see how hurt you were and it pained him. He didn’t touch his food because he was convinced that he didn’t deserve to eat.

“I..I’m sorry.. I should not have done that”. Gojo said.

“It’s not like it matters anyway”. You bit your lip and looked away from him.

“It does. It hurts me that I have hurt you. So please forgive me y/n. Tell me how do I make it up to you?”.

You looked at him with a frown on your face and then it hit you. Your frown turned into amusement and you stood up slamming your palm on the table, “Train with me!”.

“What?”. Gojo chuckled.

“If you want to make it up to me then train with me”. You shrugged.

Gojo threw his head back and laughed.Were you really asking him to physically brawl with him? Like he could even bring his body to attack you. .“That’s not possible”. He added, shaking his head.

“Why not?”. You leaned forward, slamming your fist on the table. “If you can spar with those men then why not with me?”.

“Because..you are..you!”.

You poked your cheek with your tongue and nodded your head as you sat back down. “I see. Is it because you are the King?”.

Gojo looked at you, he wished he could tell you that it was because he cannot bring himself to hurt you even if it was for practice. “Yes..”.

You hummed in response. Obviously a King could not just train with you. It didn’t make any sense and you felt silly for even asking, “I guess then I will have to ask one of those men to train with me. I can’t-”.

“But I will make an exception for you!”. Gojo cut you off. The moment you said that his mind went into a frenzy. Another man sparring with you? Touching you? Throwing you on the ground? No. No. No. This was the perfect chance for him to get close to you.

“Seriously? Would you really?”. You asked, wide-eyed and excited.

“Yes. If it means that you forgive me”.

You smiled widely, “forgive you for what? You didn’t do anything wrong! You are the best King ever!”. You squealed with excitement.

Gojo laughed at how adorable you were. He rested his chin on his hand and watched you excitedly drink wine. “So you agree that I am strong?”.

“Oh! Don’t even get me started on that! I don’t usually enjoy being proven wrong but I was pleasantly surprised!”.

Gojo watched with a satisfied smile as you went on to describe every move he made animatedly and how you wished you could do that instead. He didn’t even need to touch his wine to get drunk. Your words, your eyes, your smile was more intoxicating than all the wine of of the Kingdom combined.

@arisucat @bubera974 @ritsatoru @yevene @sofi786 @mokonasenpaiposts @allofffmypeaches @monsieurgucchi

@lilith412426

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fatehbaz · 4 months

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In fact, far more Asian workers moved to the Americas in the 19th century to make sugar than to build the transcontinental railroad [...]. [T]housands of Chinese migrants were recruited to work [...] on Louisiana’s sugar plantations after the Civil War. [...] Recruited and reviled as "coolies," their presence in sugar production helped justify racial exclusion after the abolition of slavery.

In places where sugar cane is grown, such as Mauritius, Fiji, Hawaii, Guyana, Trinidad and Suriname, there is usually a sizable population of Asians who can trace their ancestry to India, China, Japan, Korea, the Philippines, Indonesia and elsewhere. They are descendants of sugar plantation workers, whose migration and labor embodied the limitations and contradictions of chattel slavery’s slow death in the 19th century. [...]

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Mass consumption of sugar in industrializing Europe and North America rested on mass production of sugar by enslaved Africans in the colonies. The whip, the market, and the law institutionalized slavery across the Americas, including in the U.S. When the Haitian Revolution erupted in 1791 and Napoleon Bonaparte’s mission to reclaim Saint-Domingue, France’s most prized colony, failed, slaveholding regimes around the world grew alarmed. In response to a series of slave rebellions in its own sugar colonies, especially in Jamaica, the British Empire formally abolished slavery in the 1830s. British emancipation included a payment of £20 million to slave owners, an immense sum of money that British taxpayers made loan payments on until 2015.

Importing indentured labor from Asia emerged as a potential way to maintain the British Empire’s sugar plantation system.

In 1838 John Gladstone, father of future prime minister William E. Gladstone, arranged for the shipment of 396 South Asian workers, bound to five years of indentured labor, to his sugar estates in British Guiana. The experiment with “Gladstone coolies,” as those workers came to be known, inaugurated [...] “a new system of [...] [indentured servitude],” which would endure for nearly a century. [...]

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Bonaparte [...] agreed to sell France's claims [...] to the U.S. [...] in 1803, in [...] the Louisiana Purchase. Plantation owners who escaped Saint-Domingue [Haiti] with their enslaved workers helped establish a booming sugar industry in southern Louisiana. On huge plantations surrounding New Orleans, home of the largest slave market in the antebellum South, sugar production took off in the first half of the 19th century. By 1853, Louisiana was producing nearly 25% of all exportable sugar in the world. [...] On the eve of the Civil War, Louisiana’s sugar industry was valued at US$200 million. More than half of that figure represented the valuation of the ownership of human beings – Black people who did the backbreaking labor [...]. By the war’s end, approximately $193 million of the sugar industry’s prewar value had vanished.

Desperate to regain power and authority after the war, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters studied and learned from their Caribbean counterparts. They, too, looked to Asian workers for their salvation, fantasizing that so-called “coolies” [...].

Thousands of Chinese workers landed in Louisiana between 1866 and 1870, recruited from the Caribbean, China and California. Bound to multiyear contracts, they symbolized Louisiana planters’ racial hope [...].

To great fanfare, Louisiana’s wealthiest planters spent thousands of dollars to recruit gangs of Chinese workers. When 140 Chinese laborers arrived on Millaudon plantation near New Orleans on July 4, 1870, at a cost of about $10,000 in recruitment fees, the New Orleans Times reported that they were “young, athletic, intelligent, sober and cleanly” and superior to “the vast majority of our African population.” [...] But [...] [w]hen they heard that other workers earned more, they demanded the same. When planters refused, they ran away. The Chinese recruits, the Planters’ Banner observed in 1871, were “fond of changing about, run away worse than [Black people], and … leave as soon as anybody offers them higher wages.”

When Congress debated excluding the Chinese from the United States in 1882, Rep. Horace F. Page of California argued that the United States could not allow the entry of “millions of cooly slaves and serfs.” That racial reasoning would justify a long series of anti-Asian laws and policies on immigration and naturalization for nearly a century.

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All text above by: Moon-Ho Jung. "Making sugar, making 'coolies': Chinese laborers toiled alongside Black workers on 19th-century Louisiana plantations". The Conversation. 13 January 2022. [All bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition #caribbean #imperial #colonial #ecology #plantation

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redrose10 · 4 months

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Here is chapter 1! I hope you like it. Chapter 2 will come out in a few days. Comments are appreciated!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 1,693

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

The weather outside did not match the feeling in the conference room. Outside the window you saw the bright sunny sky, not a cloud in sight. You longed for the warmth to touch your skin. Inside this room you felt cold. The walls were a dark cherry mahogany. A marble sculpture of a horse sat in the corner. You’re sure it cost more than a years worth salary for you. You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit you developed at some point. Everyone was patiently waiting for the same person to arrive so you could finally get this over with. Never would you have imagined you’d be in a position like this. Being married off to a man you’d never met. You knew of him of course. Who didn’t? Min Yoongi was the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. He was the sole heir to a large fortune being that the Min family was one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in all of Asia. He was dangerously handsome with an arrogant attitude. A womanizer who was constantly in the media and not in a positive way. Just a few months ago we was caught on camera being tossed out of a club for punching the bartender. The video showed him staggering around so drunk he could barely stand straight. He shouted some choice words before shoving three random women into the back of his Rolls Royce and having the driver speed off. Of course the poor bartender didn’t even file any charges knowing he’d never win against the Min family power and money.

Shareholders started worrying about Yoongi’s ability to lead the company, some even demanding he step down. People were uncertain if they should invest in a company run by a sloppy drunk with clear emotional baggage. Stocks in Min Enterprises began to plummet which meant the Min family money started to dwindle and only then did they decide it was time to step in. Which is how you ended up here, sitting across from Yoongi’s parents and some of the other higher ranking officials at Min Enterprises. They had come to the conclusion that it was time for Yoongi to settle down. He needed to find a nice wholesome woman who could help him clean up his image, turn his life around, maybe have a future heir and turn himself into a well respected family man. The problem with that was that Yoongi had never lasted more than a couple weeks with any woman since he was about 19. Often going for quick hookups with women he met at clubs or random models he got ahold of that just wanted to use his name to further their career. In his mind it was easier. No strings attached. No chance of falling in love. No heartbreak. Just sex and send them on their way.

You were a simple girl. You didn’t come from money or power. You loved flowers, blue hydrangeas were your favorite. You often enjoyed a mug of warm milk before bed or maybe some chamomile tea if you were feeling adventurous. Most of your clothes were thrifted and definitely not name brands. You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend and less than four flings. You were the exact opposite of Yoongi and the women you often saw him photographed with.

Which is exactly why the Min family thought you were the perfect match to save their wayward son and bring a good reputation back to the Min name. You had no one else to thank but your old college roommate and best friend Jimin. After graduation he moved away but you kept in touch with each other. One day you get a voicemail from your friend asking you to come visit him in Korea. After calling him back and him assuring you the trip was all expenses paid by himself you agreed. Little did you know of the secret motive. Jimin had moved to Seoul after graduation, quickly getting a job at Min Enterprises. He started as just an assistant to Yoongi’s assistant. Over time Jimin was able to work his way up and was now a member of the board of directors and one of Yoongi’s best friends. When Jimin heard of the Min family plan he immediately thought of you and threw your name into the contenders ring as a potential suitor for Yoongi. You had recently complained about wanting to get out of your small town and Jimin recalled several instances where you mentioned your ever failing love life and non existent bank account so what better way to get around that than to marry a handsome young billionaire.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Looking up you were greeted by the handsome face of Kim Seokjin, one of the Min family lawyers. “Can we be expecting Yoongi any time today?”, he asked probably more sarcastically than he had planned. As the elder Mr. Min started reaching for his phone the large double doors swung open and swiftly slammed shut as the man you were all waiting for stomped over and took his seat next to you, clearly agitated at having to be there.

You knew that Yoongi was handsome, most of the world knew that, but seeing him in person was different than any photos you’d ever seen. Soft perfect skin, piercing cat like eyes, silky jet black hair that he had started to let grow out. He was wearing a fitted dark green suit that probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. His cologne intoxicating, a mix of cinnamon and vanilla. He smelled like comfort and warmth.

When he realized you were staring at him he looked over at you turning to a face of disgust before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the lawyer, “Jin, can we get this over with? I have more important events to attend to.” You watched the lawyer lay out several sheets of paper in front of the two of you. “Right so these are the basics of the contract. It’s pretty standard. The Min family will release an official statement announcing the marriage of their only son Yoongi and Miss Y/N. The wedding will take place shortly after.” You watched as Jin turned to you placing an additional paper down in front of you and pointing to the stipulations as he read them off, “Y/N you will take the Min last name. You will move into Yoongi’s penthouse. You will agree to attend all social and/or professional functions with Yoongi and occasionally you will have to go alone as the Min representative. You will be given a credit card to make any and all purchases for any thing you need or want. And lastly you will uphold a satisfactory image as to not taint the Min image. Also please be aware that a divorce is not an option and the contract will only become nullified in the event that either Yoongi or Y/N were to pass away leaving the other as a widow.” You nodded in understanding while staring down at the list of demands in front of you. Things could be worse you thought but this still wasn’t ideal, especially not having the option for a divorce.

Jin turned his attention over to Yoongi placing a similar paper down in front of him and going over his stipulations which were much simpler than yours, basically don’t get caught with other women and don’t get drunk in public. You scoffed knowing that he would struggle to uphold his end of the contract. You were blindsided though when Jin read off the final stipulation, “After the wedding Yoongi will make an initial donation in his and Y/N’s name in the amount of $5 million US dollars to ‘Little Rays of Sunshine Orphanage’ in Y/N’s hometown. Then he will make an additional $1 million donation every year thereafter for the duration of the marriage.” Your lips turned up into a small smile. You had jokingly told Jimin that you’d agree to this whole ordeal if Yoongi donated a large amount of money to the orphanage that you grew up in. You didn’t think he’d actually get it done but you were a little relieved knowing that at least going through with this was going to benefit many children in need. You made a mental note to thank Jimin later. Deep in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed how Yoongi had looked over at you with furrowed brows questioning that request.

Jin placed a pen down in front of you before clapping his hands together, “Alright now that that’s out of the way the two of you just need to sign and date here and here and we can all go on with our day.” Trying your best to hide your shaking hand you gently grasped the ivory pen taking a deep breath before signing away your life to this man you met less than 15 minutes ago. Handing the pen over to Yoongi he glared at you before releasing a loud sigh and roughly taking the pen from your grasp signing away his name. Once it was done Mrs. Min began to speak but was cutoff by Yoongi loudly pushing his chair back and slamming the pen down on the glass table, “I have places to be.” And with that he stormed out of the room loudly slamming the door behind him. Mr. And Mrs. Min along with the rest of the elders followed not long after giving you a nod goodbye. You looked up to Jin who gave you an apologetic smile. He patted your hand as he continued to pack up his belongings, “He’ll come around Y/N. Just give it some time. He puts on a tough act but underneath that harsh exterior is really a sweet kid who got lost along the way.” Going into this you thought maybe this could actually work out and the two of you could at the very least pretend to love each other. Now, after meeting for the first time, you’re not so sure.

#yoongi x reader #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #ceo au #arranged marriage au #yoongi fic #bts fanfic #suga #min yoongi #yoongi #bts x reader

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zvaigzdelasas · 6 months

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Hui, who founded Evergrande in 1996, was detained by Chinese police last month on “suspicion of illegal crimes” related to the debt-laden company’s financial woes.[...]

Founder Hui was once Asia’s second-richest person, having built up a personal fortune of $42 billion by 2017. However, according to Bloomberg’s Billionaires Index, which tracks the real-time wealth of the world’s wealthiest people, Hui’s net worth has now tumbled to $979 million. That means he has lost 98% of his wealth over the past six years.[...]

Since the Chinese government insisted that Hui use his own wealth to pay off some of Evergrande’s debts, the firm’s embattled founder and chairman has been selling off assets including a $227 million London mansion and a $112 million villa in Hong Kong.

Lol, and I can't stress this enough: lmao [25 Oct 23]

#exactly like 2008

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burr-ell · 8 days

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Something I just noticed and really enjoy about Campaign 1 is how often their story involves becoming incredibly powerful and accomplishing so much and yet still not being able to do what's truly important to them. It's not only the gutpunch of the final episode, it's a thematic underpinning throughout the campaign.

Way back in their prestream adventures, the party was strong enough to defeat the Dread Emperor and save all the kidnapped children from Tal'Dorei—except one, a child Keyleth killed by accident, an act which haunts her through at least much of the early campaign. The party defeats the Briarwoods and reclaims Whitestone, but Ripley still escapes and 19 still misses, and the Chroma Conclave raze half the continent. Percy has great intellect and access to a powerful magical amplifier and forced out a demon through sheer force of will, but his carelessness still killed Vex and he only rolls a 6 to try to save her. The party has slain a dragon and is armed with four Vestiges of Divergence, but they couldn't save Tiberius and can't even give him the proper burial they want to. They brutally slaughter Ripley, but not before she gets the revenge she wants; she kills Percy, sending him to Orthax, and spreads guns throughout Exandria. The Conclave is slain, the whole party made it out alive, but Scanlan is forever scarred by the experience and leaves, tearing the party down as he goes. Even Vilya, prior to the campaign's beginning, was at the very end of her Aramente, likely a level 16-17 druid like Keyleth was, and still failed the trial of the Water Plane and was gone for almost 40 years.

And of course, Vox Machina became some of the most powerful people in the world, slayers of a god, legends to be immortalized for centuries...and none of their power could save their brother.

Percy points out to Bell's Hells, thirty years later, that fate isn't always kind and not everyone gets a second chance, and to me that's underscored by what we don't see. Elaina is still dead. Juniper is still dead. Percy's parents and five siblings are all still dead.

I mean, if any or all of their bodies are intact, it wouldn't even require True Resurrection to bring them back—not that Keyleth or Percy are averse to a little heresy, but hey, conserve your resources. If there are bodies, all they'd need is 7th-level Resurrection; none of those people have been dead for over a century, and if they need to find the bodies, well, Vex has Locate Object and Pike gets a Divine Intervention freebie once a week, right? Even if they did need True Resurrection, it's a heftier cost but probably not something too difficult to pay over time for one of the wealthiest families in the world.

But none of them have ever done that, nor do we get an indication that they've pursued it. Vox Machina is, probably more than any other CR party, defined by grief—how individual PCs respond to their own profound losses; how they succeed and fail to shoulder each others' burdens; and at the end of their story, how they deal with one of the most painful losses imaginable, and how they move forward and find peace in spite of it. Campaign 1 is just as much about how to deal with what you couldn't do as it is about what you now can do.

#critical role #cr meta #vox machina #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #vax'ildan #keyleth #scanlan shorthalt

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 8 months

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When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 1: Am I More Than You Bargained For Yet]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra's wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook's Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother's life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting...

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, violence, serious injury, a brief history of burn treatments, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), a wild Sunfyre appears, catching feelings for literally the single most inappropriate man on the planet.

Series title is a lyric from: "7 Minutes in Heaven" by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: "Sugar, We're Goin' Down" by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 5.3k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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You scream when he grabs you, this lightning strike of a man with a grip like an animal trap that splits bones. He pulls you away from the soldier you’re soothing—a young dark-haired Norcross, disoriented, doomed, his intestines spilling out onto the grass and blood on his lips—and through the forest of smoke and corpses and pine trees. Your eyes sting and water, your boots snag on gnarled roots. When you yelp and stumble to the earth, the man drags you upright again. You struggle like a beast with a blade at its throat, cold, serrated, pressure on the jugular. You shove and scratch at him, trying to plant your boots in soil strewn with gore and glowing embers.

“Stop, stop it, you’re hurting me!”

“Hurry up.”

“You’re going to break my wrist—!”

He wrenches you around to look you full in the face, and only now do you know who he is. A gasp hisses through your teeth; the acrid air in your lungs vanishes. Every muscle and tendon and ligament of you is taut with horror, tight enough to snap. It’s like meeting one of the Seven, the Warrior or Stranger or Smith, a shade you know only from myths and nightmares. It’s like being led to the executioner’s scaffold. His long silver braid hangs over one shoulder. His eyepatch conceals the childhood maiming that left him half-blind. There’s blood and ash on his scarred face, a ruthless breed of fear in his remaining eye, icy blue, creek-shallow, soulless. The man clasping your wrist is Prince Aemond Targaryen. “I’ll break your neck if you don’t come with me now.”

He does not wait for your protest or acquiescence. You couldn’t give it anyway. Your muddied boots move numbly as he tugs you forward, this man they call Aemond One-Eye, a monster, a murderer, a kinslayer. The earth is littered with carnage from the battle, charred ribcages and disemboweled horses, scattered armor and severed limbs. Ashes fall from the smoldering treetops like dark snow.

What does he want from me?

Rape seems unlikely; everyone knows Prince Aemond’s deviancies do not run in that direction. He is cold, hateful, dispassionate, made of stone. He does not lust for anything but power and retribution, fire and blood.

To kill me?

But why not do it here, now? There is a sword hanging from his belt, a dagger in one fist. There is no reason to wait.

To take me prisoner? To feed me to his dragon? To torture me for information?

Surely there are more knowledgeable people around to torture. What use could you be, a healer, a woman? Unless…

Unless he knows who my father is.

You glance down at the fabric band looped around the upper half of your right arm, the only mark you wear of your house, stark white banner, skittering red crabs. It is soaked through with blood. It is unreadable.

Someone is shrieking, but not like a dying man. He has too much fight in him for that, too much glass-clear agony, unwanted blistering consciousness. He screams like someone being flayed, gutted, burned alive. You’ve only ever heard this sound once before. You choke on the greasy, putrid, metallic sweetness of scorched human flesh as it sears down your throat, not knowing if it is real or remembered.

There is a tent in the midst of the pine trees, fluttering canvas that’s green like emeralds or jade. The wind is picking up; you will need to evacuate soon. The cinders will spread and the forest will blaze. Somewhere a dragon is roaring, wounded and mournful like the cry of a lost child. The screams of the man grow louder; they fill your skull like a fever, scalding and senseless and red. Aemond yanks the tent flap aside and pulls you in. And when you breathe it is nothing but the sickening miasma of burnt flesh, coppery blood, suffering, sweat, ruin.

He’s writhing on a wooden table, the man the Greens call king. It has to be him: white-blond hair down to his shoulders, blue eyes and fine aristocratic bones. Two ancient, shaky-handed maesters—hastily commandeered from the defeated House Staunton, you assume—confer nearby, clutching glass bottles of milk of the poppy. A man in armor is cutting tatters of clothing from the so-called king. When he lifts the fabric away, skin sloughs off with it. Aegon wails, struggles, begs him to stop. Aemond goes to his brother and carves away scraps of melted leather and charred cotton with the swift blade of his dagger.

“Shh, shh, don’t fight us, we’re trying to help—”

“Aemond, let me die,” the burned man rasps. He is trembling violently, he is half-mad with pain. Meleys’ flames claimed a swath of his right cheek, his neck and chest and back, his arms down to his wrists, his belly to the crests of his hip bones. “Please. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want it to hurt anymore. Don’t try to help me. Just let me die.”

Aemond looks back at you. “Can you treat this?”

He thinks I’m a Green, you realize with panic, with relief, with terror. And of course he would: you had wandered into the Greens’ side of the battlefield and therefore did not surrender or flee or die with the other Blacks, you were tending to a Green soldier when he found you. Aemond the Kinslayer would not comprehend the notion of service to humankind without a line drawn down the middle of it, of uncategorical compassion.

“Can you help him or not?!” Aemond shouts; and you know that he is not just afraid but shattering, spider-leg cracks inching across a window or a mirror. Perhaps the Greens have souls after all.

You shed your paralysis like daylight erases the stars and approach to examine the so-called king. You do not touch him; still, he whimpers, sobs, quakes like waves in a storm. “He needs more milk of the poppy. A lot more of it.”

“Yes,” Aegon agrees immediately. His streaming eyes—a bleak, murky blue like the sea off Claw Isle—list to you, agonized and grateful.

The maesters gape. “More could kill him,” one says. And they are petrified of being blamed for it. They are plagued by visions of Aemond hacking off their heads and displaying them on spikes above the stone walls of captured Rook’s Rest.

“No drawbacks at all then?” Aegon manages between moans.

“If his pain does not abate, he will die of shock,” you say. “He must be unconscious.”

“Knock me out,” Aegon pleads, pawing at Aemond. “Tell them, tell them.”

Aemond looks to the man in armor: dark-haired, olive-skinned, Dornish. Sir Criston Cole, you realize. The Hand of the King. The Kingmaker. After a moment, Criston nods. “Do it now,” Aemond orders the maesters.

Grimacing, grim, they pour the opalescent liquid into Aegon’s mouth. He gulps it down as quickly as he can. “Enough,” you tell the maesters. Instinctively, you reach out to comfort Aegon: a palm rested lightly on his forehead, fingers threaded through silvery hair that’s filthy with soot and blood. You should hate him, but you don’t. When you look at the Greens’ broken king, you cannot see a murderer, a usurper, a depraved hedonist, a consumer of innocence. You can only see a man worn threadbare by ill-advised bravery.

“Hello, angel,” Aegon murmurs as he gazes up at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. His eyes really do remind you of home: ocean currents like iron, fog like flint. “Welcome to the end of the world.” And then he’s out, extinguished, eclipsed.

Servants bustle into the tent carrying heavy buckets. “What is that?” you ask.

“Pork lard,” one of the maesters says. “For his wounds.”

“No, no, no, some of these burns are nearly down to the muscle. They’re too deep, too fresh. Lard is for later, to help with scarring, although olive oil or rose oil would be better. He needs to be cleaned with vinegar diluted with water. Or red wine, if that’s all that can be found.”

“Vinegar?!” one of the maesters exclaims.

“It helps prevent infection. Nobody knows why.”

The same maester turns to Aemond, imploring him. “My prince, I can assure you, the Citadel recommends pork lard or cow dung as topical cures, or both used alternatingly. There are also reports of cases where frogs have been helpful, warmed in oil and then rubbed on the affected area.”

Criston blinks. “I’m sorry, you do what with the frogs…?!”

They’re going to kill him, you think. Not with malice, but with stupidity. A wasted life, a wasted death. You demand of the maester: “When was the last time you treated burns this severe?”

He glowers at you, sharp dark eyes like flecks of onyx in a nest of wrinkles. And you know you’ve won when he replies: “When have you?”

“My brother was burned in a housefire started by an upturned lantern. It was five years ago, but I remember the direness his injuries. And what was done to save him.”

Silence in this tent the color of summer: green grass, unsinged trees. Aemond waits for the maesters to produce some astute rebuttal. When they cannot, he orders the servants: “Vinegar, water, rags. Now.” They dash off to oblige him, wide-eyed and quivering like small dogs. Then Aemond looks to you. “What next?”

“His wounds should be treated with honey and then bandaged. The dressings must be changed frequently, at least once per day. He must be repositioned so the scar tissue does not immobilize his joints. He will suffer, it cannot be avoided, but he should suffer as little as possible. Listen to him when he says the pain is too much. Let him sleep. When he is awake, he must drink plenty of fluids. He is losing water through his burns, and it must be replaced. Milk is preferable. Tea and fruit juices are good as well. Some wine is acceptable if that’s what he likes best.”

“And it certainly is,” Criston mutters. You’ve heard the same: that the Greens’ king is a drunk, an adulterer, a coward, a ghoul. You cannot speak to any of this. You know him only as someone who is horrifically pained and sick to death of fighting. Again, without thinking, you comb your fingertips distractedly through his hair as he lies unconscious on the table, bleeding from everywhere. He’s so young, so breakable, so unlike the monster you’ve been led to believe he is.

“Get honey and bandages,” Aemond tells the maesters. They depart, casting each other incredulous glances: Are these our new overlords? Men who heed the wisdom of impetuous young women filthy with blood and earth?

“I’ve heard salt can be helpful for wounds,” Aemond says. “They used it on me when…” He gestures to his eyepatch, to his scar. Lucerys Velaryon took that part of him in self-defense; at least, that is what you have always been told. But you’ve read enough to know that for every event, there are at least two stories. Whatever the truth is, Luke paid for that eye. He paid, Rhaenyra paid, the world continues to pay the price over and over again.

“Because it dries. It absorbs moisture.” You skim your palm over Aegon’s forehead, without lines of fear or anguish as he sleeps. There is a ring on his left hand, a gold dragon with glinting dots of jade for eyes. You twist off the ring so it will not hinder circulation as his fingers swell and give it to Aemond. “But burns weep as they heal. They need to be wet. If they get too dry, they will crack open and fester.”

“Is that what happened to your brother?” Aemond asks.

“Where we did not pay enough attention. The backs of his knees, the soles of his feet.”

“But he survived.”

“Yes,” you tell Aemond; and you can see how desperately he is searching for hope in your face, your words. “He did.”

The servants return with buckets of water, handfuls of rags, glass bottles of vinegar that is cloudy and rust-colored.

“What’s it made from?” you say.

“Fermented a-a-apples, my lady,” one of the boys sputters. He watches Aemond out of the corner of his eye like sheep look for the shadows of wolves. He shivers, he sweats. This boy, who last night was fetching meat and mead for Lord Staunton, has heard the same stories you have: the degenerate king, his murderous brother.

“That’s fine then.” You haul over one of the water buckets and Criston helps you lift it up onto the table. You empty half a bottle of vinegar into the water, mix it by wobbling the bucket back and forth, and then soak a rag in the pungent liquid. “You can help,” you tell Aemond and Criston. “Dip a rag in the bucket, wring it out, then press it to his wounds. Remove any dirt or scraps of fabric. But don’t rub. Try not to damage the skin he has left.” You demonstrate: dabbing at flesh that is torn and bloody and blistered, a black-and-ruby wasteland that at best will leave him irreparably scarred and at worst will swallow his life like ships sink in storms.

Tentatively—with hands at ease with killing but not tenderness—Aemond and Criston join you, studying your movements and imitating them with great care. There is a sniffle, a teardrop that falls onto Aegon’s filthy but unburned left hand and glistens there like a splinter of glass; you are alarmed to see that the Kingmaker is weeping.

“Criston,” Aemond says gently. “We are doing everything we can for him.”

“Since the day he was born, I promised…”

“I know.”

“Your mother…”

“I know,” Aemond says again, and you think: The Greens aren’t demons, they aren’t savages. They’re just patchworks of memory and flesh and suffering, the same as any of us. “He will live. And his sacrifice won us a victory today.”

As you tended to wounded men caked with blood and pine needles, you saw them tangled above in the overcast sky, scales of scarlet and gold and an ancient muddy viridescence. There were flames and shouts, and then all three dragons hurdled towards the earth and out of view. “The Red Queen?” you ask Aemond, mindful to keep your voice perfectly level.

“Dead,” he says: dark satisfaction, fearsome pride. “And so is her rider.”

“The gods are good.” You are amazed at how easily it slips out, a reflex of self-preservation while your mind is elsewhere. Does my father know yet? Does Rhaenyra, does Daemon, does Corlys? People will be searching for you soon. If you do not appear from the smoke and chaos of the battlefield, your eldest brother Clement will come looking with his sword in hand. Everett, scarred and unagile but clever, will be pouring over maps to see where you might have ended up.

There is no suspicion in Aemond’s face when he glances over at you. He is gingerly cleaning soot and charred strips of ruined skin from Aegon’s chest, which rises and falls in deep, slow breaths. “Which family is yours?”

House Celtigar, but you can’t tell him that. You scramble for a noble family of the Crownlands whose accent you share, whose history you have been taught, whose men fight for the Greens but are not so distinguished that Aemond will know them well. “House Thorne.”

He nods. “Are you one of Sir Rickard’s sisters?”

You startle. Perhaps you have chosen the wrong disguise. “Far less illustrious than that. Just a cousin.”

The two maesters return, their archaic hands piled high with linen bandages and glass jars of honey, a fiery gold like sunset. “Set them down over there,” Aemond orders, pointing. He has a presence, it cannot be denied. He is tall, fierce, swift yet calculated. He moves like a man who has killed once, twice, again until it is no longer something that keeps him awake at night. It is something that has become a part of him like arteries or bones. “Prepare a room in the castle.”

“For Prince Aegon?” one of the maesters says, then quickly corrects himself. “I mean, for the king?”

“For until we decide what to do with him.” Aemond stares at Criston. Criston stares back, his dark eyes huge and shiny. There is a war to be waged, but Aegon will not be able to help them. Not for months, at least. Not ever, if he dies. The maesters disappear again, grumbling to each other. Unwelcome tasks, unwelcome guests.

Rhaenys is dead, you think as you work. It doesn’t feel real. Meleys is dead. Hundreds of Black soldiers are dead. Rook’s Rest is the Greens’ greatest victory yet, and one they desperately needed. This war is nowhere near over. And the betting odds keep changing.

You say to Aemond and Criston: “Help me turn him. We must clean the burns on his back as well.”

They listen, they obey, they help you because helping you means helping Aegon. When he is washed as well as he can be, you spread a thin sheen of shimmering honey over his wounds—an amber river that will trap moisture and discourage inflammation—and wrap him in bandages. The only burn you leave uncovered is the one on his right cheek. It creeps up over his pale face like red tentacles, curling and grasping, hungry, insatiable. They match now, you think. Two brothers, two scars.

Criston assembles a group of Green soldiers and Aegon is carried in a litter to the castle that serves as the seat of House Staunton, once allies of Rhaenyra, now traitors, now dead men walking. Outside rain has begun to fall, putting out flames born from dragonfire. The pine forest is saved; wounded men lie in the dirt with their mouths open hoping to quench their thirst. By the time Aegon is placed in an opulent bedroom with a view of Blackwater Bay, he has already bled through his bandages. You clean him again, bandage him, dribble milk of the poppy down his throat when he begins to stir and whimper. Aemond gives you command of a makeshift fleet of caretakers: the two requisitioned maesters, three maids, servants to bring food, drink, bandages, wood for the crackling fireplace.

My family is searching for me, you know as you battle to save their enemy’s life, this maybe-king with silver hair and eyes like deep water.And then: I cannot leave him. Not now, not yet.

In the night, as cool rain patters against the ocean and Aemond and Criston are slaughtering House Staunton men down in the castle courtyard, you dose Aegon with milk of the poppy every few hours. The maesters refuse to take responsibility for it; if the king is poisoned, it will be you who swings from a rope for it. You hold cloths dripping with cold water to his forehead. You feed him nibbles of bread and venison when he is conscious enough to eat, cinnamon tea, pomegranate juice, goat milk. You inspect him for any signs of infection. You braid a small lock of his hair before you’ve stopped to consider why you’re doing it.

And when no one else is watching, you untie the bloodstained armband of your own house and burn it to ashes in the fire.

~~~~~~~~~~

Someone is jostling you, grabbing at you. You fell into an exhausted, sporadic sleep in the next room long after midnight. It’s morning now; warm sunlight blooms like flowers on your face, yellow roses and buttercups and daffodils. When your eyes open, they are sore and unfocused. Aemond is a blur of white hair and black leather. He is tugging on you again, his lithe fingers like a vice around your forearm.

“Stop it, get off me!” You shove him away. He waits, bemused. “You can’t keep dragging me around like this!”

“Why not?”

Because my father is one of the wealthiest men in the Seven Kingdoms. Because I may not have silver hair or a dragon, but if you cut me open the blood of Old Valyria would spill out like red waves. Because the man I am pledged to marry is good at killing, very good at killing, maybe even better than you. “Because I’m a noblewoman. I’m a lady.”

“You don’t act like one,” Aemond counters. “Ladies flee from blood and gore. Ladies are nowhere to be found on battlefields.”

“I like being useful.”

“Then I have brought you a gift. You are needed now. Aegon is asking for you.” And then, when you hurry out of bed, finding your footing on chilly wood floors: “Well, that certainly got you moving quickly.”

“He’s in pain?”

“Not especially, from what I can tell. I think he just wants you.” Aemond glides out of the bedroom. You follow him to Aegon’s chamber. The Greens’ king is propped up in bed on a great mass of pillows, bandaged, limp, eyes glazed and barely open. There are men huddled around him. You recognize Criston, though not the other ones, some old and some young and all in armor. You hope that none of them are Sir Rickard Thorne.

You feel Aegon’s forehead for fever. To your relief, he is no more than modestly warm. He catches your hand, holds it tightly, doesn’t let go. After a moment’s hesitation, you sit down beside him on the edge of the bed. There is a curl of his lips, just a whisper of a smile, just a phantom of one. Aemond glances at you and Aegon with mild interest, then turns his attention to Criston.

“Aegon,” Criston informs the king, patiently, like a good father would. “We have to move you back to King’s Landing.”

“No,” Aegon says. His voice is so low and weak that he’s difficult to hear.

“Your recovery will be long and arduous,” Criston explains. “Aemond and I will be needed in combat. We cannot stay to guard you. The Blacks may try to retake Rook’s Rest. You staying here is not an option. King’s Landing is safer. It is well-supplied, it is protected. And we have our own maesters there who will help tend to you.”

“Can’t leave,” Aegon croaks. “Sunfyre.”

“Aegon—”

“I can’t leave without Sunfyre,” he forces out with immense effort. Then he gasps and moans, tears pooling in his eyes. You offer him milk of the poppy; he guzzles as much as you’ll allow him to have.

Criston sighs. “You can’t stay. And Sunfyre can’t leave. One of his wings was nearly ripped off, he’ll never fly again. We have no way to transport him, he’s too heavy.”

One of the armored men mutters: “And that’s assuming he wouldn’t incinerate anyone who ventured close enough to try.”

“Where is he now?” Aemond asks the man.

“Down on the beach, my prince. Eating dead soldiers.”

Criston shudders. Working in close proximity to dragons has not given him a liking for them.

“Can’t leave him here,” Aegon whispers, shaking his head.

“You must,” Aemond says.

“What if it was Vhagar?”

“I’d leave her. I’d have no choice.”

Aegon frowns, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s all too much for him. “Not the same.”

No, perhaps not; Aemond’s dragon may be the largest and most lethal in the world, but Aegon’s bond with Sunfyre is said to be what legends are built of, words written in ink and stone. You watch the agonized confliction on Aegon’s drawn face: can’t leave, can’t stay, can’t fight, can’t run. You say softly: “Could Sunfyre be assigned a detachment of guards?”

Aemond looks at you as if just remembering you’re here. “What?”

“Men could be tasked with ensuring the dragon is secure and fed. From a safe distance, of course. They could report on his health. Then perhaps when he is stronger, he can be reunited with the king.” The king. Again, it stuns you how easily the treason rolls out, like waves bubbling over rocks and sand.

Aemond turns to Criston. “Could it be done?”

“I don’t foresee many men volunteering for the task. But it could be done, yes. Sure.”

Aemond asks his brother: “Would that make a difference?”

Aegon’s eyes drift to you. They are churning with sluggish, clunky thoughts, heavy burdens to bear on raw shoulders. The braid that you wove absentmindedly into his hair is still there. “Alright,” Aegon agrees at last. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Aemond says. “We leave at dawn tomorrow.” Then he looks to you. “You will come south with us.” His tone invites no argument. He doesn’t even conceive of it as a possibility. Why would you refuse? Why would you, a purportedly devout Green, shy away from the opportunity to nurse your king back to health? You bow your head in compliance. You wonder what is being discussed in the Black Council; you wonder what your father is thinking, what Everett believes happened to you.

“But I have to see him first,” Aegon says.

Aemond does not understand. “See who?”

“Sunfyre.”

“But you can’t walk to the beach,” Criston says. “You can’t walk anywhere.”

Aegon grins, showing his teeth. His dazed, deep blue eyes glitter mischieviously. His hand has not disentangled itself from yours. “Then carry me.”

The deal is struck, like a face minted onto a coin or a bolt of lightning meeting the earth. Soldiers transport Aegon down to the stony, mist-sopped shoreline. Blade-sharp agony is flooding back into his face, but he refuses more milk of the poppy. He wants to be awake when he gets there. He wants to be himself.

The soldiers cannot get too close to Sunfyre; no one besides Aegon can. He is helped off the litter and then tries to amble across the wet, grey sand. After a few steps he collapses. You rush to him, dodging Aemond and Criston’s grasps as they try to stop you.

“No,” Aegon says when you attempt to help him to his feet. He is panting from the pain, his face flushed with torment and exertion. His white-blond hair whips in the wind. “Do not follow me. Not even if I pass out, not even if I’m dead. I don’t know what Sunfyre would do to you.” And then he crawls forward alone on his hands and knees.

Waves crash, spraying saltwater into the air. Crabs scuttle over rocks. Gulls swoop low to claim mouthfuls of flesh from bloated corpses in worthless uniforms. The dragon known as Sunfyre the Golden is curled up on the beach. Many of his metallic scales are singed; the pink membranes of his wings are tattered like lace. His right wing hangs at a ruinously odd angle. You would know how to set that if he was a human. And you could do it without the threat of being reduced to ash and history.

Sunfyre unravels as Aegon nears him, long angular face rising, frayed wings settling by his sides. You have seen dragons before, of course—Syrax, Caraxes, Arrax, Vermax, Meleys—though never from this close. They horrify you. You cannot look at them without thinking of the devastation they sow like a plague, of how they so unmistakably no longer belong in this world.

Sunfyre’s head stretches out towards his rider, a half-dead man kneeling in wet sand and wearing only bandages and loose cotton trousers. Beside you, Sir Criston Cole sucks in a noisy, nervous breath. Aemond watches Aegon, his face like stone. His hair hangs in long, damp waves.

Aegon embraces Sunfyre, clinging to him, resting his face against the dragon’s. They stay like that for what feels like a very long time. Then Aegon crawls back to you, sobbing with pain by the time he is lifted into the litter. You give him milk of the poppy and he accepts it eagerly. He is unconscious again within seconds. Down the beach, Sunfyre looses a soft desolate cry like a plea: Don’t go. Don’t leave me. You might never come back.

~~~~~~~~~~

The drivers have been instructed to proceed slowly and with caution; still, the carriage pitches and jolts as you traverse the Rosby Road towards King’s Landing. In addition to the caravan’s most precious cargo—the Greens’ fragile and intermittently sentient king—it transports also two severed heads: Lord Simon Staunton’s in a basket, and Meleys’ in the bed of a mule-drawn wagon. High above in slate-grey clouds, Aemond and Vhagar are safeguarding your progress. Criston rides on a monstrous warhorse just outside the carriage. You are leafing through a book that you found in the castle library at Rook’s Rest: anatomy, surgery, sicknesses and cures. Aegon is bandaged and heavily medicated in the cushioned seat across from you. While servants flit in and out frequently, you are the only passengers in the carriage at the moment. You do not know that Aegon is awake until he speaks.

“Sinful,” he says. His voice is groggy, only half-here. He is gazing blearily at the illustration on the open pages of your book: a quite detailed naked man, his arteries and veins mapped like the roads of Westeros, his cock bare and sizeable.

“It’s informative,” you reply in your own defense, smiling.

“My father would have hit me for looking at something like that. If he’d noticed.” Aegon smirks, resting his head against the back of his velvet seat. His hair has been scrubbed and rinsed by servants, the braid you made for him undone. “He probably wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Mine has a great love for all books.” Bartimos Celtigar is eternally turning pages: computations, records, revenue. He does not just sit on Rhaenyra’s council. He is her Master of Coin. He funds her war effort, he fuels her like wood to a fire. “Besides, I have seen naked men in person. No book can scandalize me now.”

A little twitch of his silvery eyebrows: fascination, amusement. “He does not lose sleep over your spent innocence?”

“He has other things on his mind presently.”

“Like what?”

Like helping Rhaenyra win the war. You find a different truth to tell him. “Some men consider one daughter to be too many. My father has four. His attention is thoroughly divided.”

“He doesn’t like you?”

“He likes me plenty. He just doesn’t need me.”

Aegon nods. His eyes travel over you slowly and meditatively, not leering but learning, memorizing slopes and angles, taking you in like he’s never been able to before. He is in the brief lull between doses of milk of the poppy: lucid enough to speak but not so much that he can feel the full extent of his injuries. “Are you married?”

This is a bit of a fraught subject. “I am betrothed.”

“Oh,” he says, with what might be disappointment. “And he wouldn’t rather have you home right now? Putting all that knowledge of male anatomy to good use? That’s difficult to believe.”

You peer evasively down at your book. “He has a role to play in the war. I’ve been given permission to serve in my own way until it is over.”

“Permission,” Aegon echoes. He finds this interesting. He studies you for a while before he asks, his voice gentle: “What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. He’s honorable, he’s brave. He’s marvelously formidable. He could carry you around like a sack of potatoes.”

Aegon chuckles, a slow reflective laugh, curiosity, intrigue, something to think about besides the fact that he’s missing half his skin. “Do you fear marriage?”

What is the answer to that question? Do you even know yourself? “I fear being possessed. And having no remedy if the circumstances are not to my liking.”

“You can’t get one of your three superfluous sisters to marry him instead?”

You smile faintly. “No, we’ve met. He chose me, he favored me. I’m not sure why.”

“Probably because you’ve read all there is to know about cocks.” Aegon grins, drowsy and crooked and playful. “Who is he?”

“Just a man,” you say. You can’t tell Aegon more than that. It would give your Black affiliations away.

You are betrothed to the Warden of the North, Lord Cregan Stark.

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