AToC Bonus Content III

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<div id="content"><div align='center'>@@.chaptertitle;AToC Bonus Content III@@ <b>Thanks so much for supporting me!</b></div> As a benefit for your support, this is where you'll be able to access the bonus snippets relevant for your Patreon tier! This file will be updated on a bimonthly basis to add new snippets that you can play. It is recommended that you download a save file with the "Save To Disk" option from the save menu after customizing your Crown so you don't have to go through the process with every new update. You can also do this on mobile by using desktop mode on the store page, though note that this only works on <em>some</em> mobile browsers, such as Opera. I hope you enjoy! [[Access the bonus content|0.1]]</div>

{Main Character Customization} <<set $name to "">> <<set $surname to "">> <<set $pronouns to "">> <<set $preference to "">> <<set $scar to "">> <<set $facialhair to "">> <<set $fh to false>> <<set $sc to false>> <<set $height to "">> <<set $haircolor to "">> <<set $hairstyle to "">> <<set $hairtexture to "">> <<set $skincolor to "">> <<set $clothing to "">> <<set $xnickname to "">> <<set $cxnickname to "">> <<set $rnickname to "">> <<set $crnickname to "">> <<set $anickname to "">> <<set $canickname to "">> <<set $dnickname to "">> <<set $cdnickname to "">> <<set $customization to false>> <<set $storymenu to false>> {Main Character Pronouns} <<set $they to "">> <<set $cthey to "">> <<set $their to "">> <<set $ctheir to "">> <<set $theirs to "">> <<set $ctheirs to "">> <<set $them to "">> <<set $cthem to "">> <<set $themselves to "">> <<set $cthemselves to "">> {Main Character Traits} <<set $charm to false>> <<set $blunt to false>> <<set $intel to false>> <<set $intu to false>> <<set $adven to false>> <<set $caut to false>> <<set $kind to false>> <<set $calc to false>> <<set $flirt to false>> <<set $res to false>> <<set $ass to false>> <<set $pass to false>> {Main Character Skills} <<set $magicpref to "">> {R} <<set $rgender to "">> <<set $rname to "">> <<set $rtitle to "">> <<set $rthey to "">> <<set $crthey to "">> <<set $rtheir to "">> <<set $crtheir to "">> <<set $rtheirs to "">> <<set $crtheirs to "">> <<set $rthem to "">> <<set $crthem to "">> <<set $rthemselves to "">> <<set $crthemselves to "">> {X} <<set $xgender to "">> <<set $xname to "">> <<set $xthey to "">> <<set $cxthey to "">> <<set $xtheir to "">> <<set $cxtheir to "">> <<set $xtheirs to "">> <<set $cxtheirs to "">> <<set $xthem to "">> <<set $cxthem to "">> <<set $xthemselves to "">> <<set $cxthemselves to "">> {A} <<set $agender to "">> <<set $aname to "">> <<set $athey to "">> <<set $cathey to "">> <<set $atheir to "">> <<set $catheir to "">> <<set $atheirs to "">> <<set $catheirs to "">> <<set $athem to "">> <<set $cathem to "">> <<set $athemselves to "">> <<set $cathemselves to "">> {D} <<set $dgender to "">> <<set $dname to "">> <<set $dthey to "">> <<set $cdthey to "">> <<set $dtheir to "">> <<set $cdtheir to "">> <<set $dtheirs to "">> <<set $cdtheirs to "">> <<set $dthem to "">> <<set $cdthem to "">> <<set $dthemselves to "">> <<set $cdthemselves to "">>

A Tale of Crowns

by <a href="https://ataleofcrowns.tumblr.com">qeresî</a>

<div id="content">@@.titleblack;CUSTOMIZATION@@ To customize the character snippets, please set your Crown's name, pronouns, and which gender the love interests are set as! First, the love interests. R is: <label><<radiobutton "$rgender" "male">> a man</label> <label><<radiobutton "$rgender" "female">> a woman</label> X is: <label><<radiobutton "$xgender" "male">> a man</label> <label><<radiobutton "$xgender" "female">> a woman</label> A is: <label><<radiobutton "$agender" "male">> a man</label> <label><<radiobutton "$agender" "female">> a woman</label> D is: <label><<radiobutton "$dgender" "male">> a man</label> <label><<radiobutton "$dgender" "female">> a woman</label> Now, for your Crown! Your Crown's name is: <ul class="a"> <li><<click "Suggested gender-neutral names">><<toggleclass "#section13" "hidden">><</click>></li><div id="section13" class="hidden">&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Dîmen|0.2][$name to "Dîmen"]]; <em>a scenic sight, scenery</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Havîn|0.2][$name to "Havîn"]]; <em>summer</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Niyaz|0.2][$name to "Niyaz"]]; <em>request, wish</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Evîn|0.2][$name to "Evîn"]]; <em>love</em></div> <li><<click "Suggested masculine names">><<toggleclass "#section14" "hidden">><</click>></li><div id="section14" class="hidden">&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Ardil|0.2][$name to "Ardil"]]; <em>heart fire</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Belên|0.2][$name to "Belên"]]; <em>promise</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Kevir|0.2][$name to "Kevir"]]; <em>stone</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Dilovan|0.2][$name to "Dilovan"]]; <em>compassionate, loving</em></div> <li><<click "Suggested feminine names">><<toggleclass "#section15" "hidden">><</click>></li><div id="section15" class="hidden">&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Şêrîn|0.2][$name to "Şêrîn"]]; <em>sweet, charming</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Gulavî|0.2][$name to "Gulavî"]]; <em>from rose water</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Rojda|0.2][$name to "Rojda"]]; <em>sunrise, a new day</em> &emsp;&emsp;&emsp;&emsp;[[Nazenîn|0.2][$name to "Nazenîn"]]; <em>graceful, coquettish</em></div> <li><<click "Insert a custom name">><<toggleclass "#section16" "hidden">><</click>></li> <div id="section16" class="hidden"><<textbox "$name" $name>> \ <<button "Confirm">> <<set $name to $name.trim()>> <<if $name is "">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>Please enter a name.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Naza">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rona">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xelef">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xelara">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Azad">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ashti">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rezan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rozerin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Dara">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Delal">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Keko">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Behram">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Heval">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ishrah">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Siham">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ezo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Kaja">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ziryan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Harun">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>No, that's your father's name.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Nazire">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>No, that's your mother's name.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Welat">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ferzan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unabailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Farraj">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Farrukh">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tavan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Huner">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Piruz">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ferhat">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Saheer">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Vidarna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ardashir">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zerya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Roshan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Vasha">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tirzal">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Rozerîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Rêzan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Tûjo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Nis">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>><<elseif $name is "Qumrî">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Şahmaran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Shahmaran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Şahmeran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Shahmeran">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ashadūna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>You wish.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Kham">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Viyan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Mem">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ervin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Meryatum">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Nitocris">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Dila">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Tujo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ashaduna">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Qumri">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Nûdem">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Kuvan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Keybanû">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Keybanu">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Zana">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Elfesya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Sanazi">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Mêrxas">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Merxas">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Lilan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Şanazî">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Lîlan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ezman">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Irem">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Gulveda">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Narîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Narin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Revîn">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Revin">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Sarya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xanê">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Xane">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Maru">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Vejan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Bazo">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Karzan">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Ciya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<elseif $name is "Çiya">> <<replace "#textbox-error">>This name is unavailable.<</replace>> <<else>> <<replace "#textbox-error">><</replace>> <<goto "0.2">> <</if>><</button>></div></ul><span id="textbox-error"></span></div>

<div id="content"><<nobr>><<if $rgender is "female">> <<set $rthey to "she">> <<set $crthey to "She">> <<set $rtheir to "her">> <<set $crtheir to "Her">> <<set $rtheirs to "hers">> <<set $crtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $rthem to "her">> <<set $crthem to "Her">> <<set $rthemselves to "herself">> <<set $crthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $rtitle to "Lady">> <<set $rname to "Rozerîn">> <</if>> <<if $rgender is "male">> <<set $rthey to "he">> <<set $crthey to "He">> <<set $rtheir to "his">> <<set $crtheir to "His">> <<set $rtheirs to "his">> <<set $crtheirs to "His">> <<set $rthem to "him">> <<set $crthem to "Him">> <<set $rthemselves to "himself">> <<set $crthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $rtitle to "Lord">> <<set $rname to "Rêzan">> <</if>> <<if $xgender is "female">> <<set $xthey to "she">> <<set $cxthey to "She">> <<set $xtheir to "her">> <<set $cxtheir to "Her">> <<set $xtheirs to "hers">> <<set $cxtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $xthem to "her">> <<set $cxthem to "Her">> <<set $xthemselves to "herself">> <<set $cxthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $xname to "Xelara">> <</if>> <<if $xgender is "male">> <<set $xthey to "he">> <<set $cxthey to "He">> <<set $xtheir to "his">> <<set $cxtheir to "His">> <<set $xtheirs to "his">> <<set $cxtheirs to "His">> <<set $xthem to "him">> <<set $cxthem to "Him">> <<set $xthemselves to "himself">> <<set $cxthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $xname to "Xelef">> <</if>> <<if $agender is "female">> <<set $athey to "she">> <<set $cathey to "She">> <<set $atheir to "her">> <<set $catheir to "Her">> <<set $atheirs to "hers">> <<set $catheirs to "Hers">> <<set $athem to "her">> <<set $cathem to "Her">> <<set $athemselves to "herself">> <<set $cathemselves to "Herself">> <<set $aname to "Ashti">> <</if>> <<if $agender is "male">> <<set $athey to "he">> <<set $cathey to "He">> <<set $atheir to "his">> <<set $catheir to "His">> <<set $atheirs to "his">> <<set $catheirs to "His">> <<set $athem to "him">> <<set $cathem to "Him">> <<set $athemselves to "himself">> <<set $cathemselves to "Himself">> <<set $aname to "Azad">> <</if>> <<if $dgender is "female">> <<set $dthey to "she">> <<set $cdthey to "She">> <<set $dtheir to "her">> <<set $cdtheir to "Her">> <<set $dtheirs to "hers">> <<set $cdtheirs to "Hers">> <<set $dthem to "her">> <<set $cdthem to "Her">> <<set $dthemselves to "herself">> <<set $cdthemselves to "Herself">> <<set $dname to "Delal">> <</if>> <<if $dgender is "male">> <<set $dthey to "he">> <<set $cdthey to "He">> <<set $dtheir to "his">> <<set $cdtheir to "His">> <<set $dtheirs to "his">> <<set $cdtheirs to "His">> <<set $dthem to "him">> <<set $cdthem to "Him">> <<set $dthemselves to "himself">> <<set $cdthemselves to "Himself">> <<set $dname to "Dara">> <</if>><</nobr>>Your Crown's pronouns are: <ul class="a"> <li>[[He/him|0.4][$pronouns to "hehim"]]</li> <li>[[She/her|0.4][$pronouns to "sheher"]]</li> <li>[[They/them|0.4][$pronouns to "theythem"]]</li> <li><<click "Insert your own pronouns">><<toggleclass "#fuckyoutwine" "hidden">><</click>></li> <div id="fuckyoutwine" class="hidden"><b>Subject;</b> <em>She</em> is fun. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthey" $cthey>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$they" $they>> <b>Object;</b> I wrote to <em>them</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthem" $cthem>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$them" $them>> <b>Possessive adjective;</b> <em>His</em> belongings. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$ctheir" $ctheir>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$their" $their>> <b>Possessive pronoun;</b> That book is <em>eirs</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$ctheirs" $ctheirs>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$theirs" $theirs>> <b>Reflexive;</b> Xe loves <em>xemself</em>. @@.footnote;capital letter@@ <<textbox "$cthemselves" $cthemselves>> @@.footnote;lowercase@@ <<textbox "$themselves" $themselves>> [[Confirm and continue|0.4]]</div></ul></div>

<div id="content"><<nobr>> <<if $pronouns is "sheher">> <<set $they to "she">> <<set $cthey to "She">> <<set $their to "her">> <<set $ctheir to "Her">> <<set $theirs to "hers">> <<set $ctheirs to "Hers">> <<set $them to "her">> <<set $cthem to "Her">> <<set $themselves to "herself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Herself">> <</if>> <<if $pronouns is "hehim">> <<set $they to "he">> <<set $cthey to "He">> <<set $their to "his">> <<set $ctheir to "His">> <<set $theirs to "his">> <<set $ctheirs to "His">> <<set $them to "him">> <<set $cthem to "Him">> <<set $themselves to "himself">> <<set $cthemselves to "Himself">> <</if>> <<if $pronouns is "theythem">> <<set $they to "they">> <<set $cthey to "They">> <<set $their to "their">> <<set $ctheir to "Their">> <<set $theirs to "theirs">> <<set $ctheirs to "Theirs">> <<set $them to "them">> <<set $cthem to "Them">> <<set $themselves to "themselves">> <<set $cthemselves to "Themselves">> <</if>> <</nobr>>Your Crown's hair color is: <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "black">> black</label> <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "deep brown">> deep brown</label> <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "chestnut brown">> chestnut brown</label> <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "honey brown">> honey brown</label> <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "dark auburn">> dark auburn</label> <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "dark blond">> dark blond</label> <label><<radiobutton "$haircolor" "ash gray">> ash gray</label> Your Crown's hair texture is: <label><<radiobutton "$hairtexture" "straight">> straight</label> <label><<radiobutton "$hairtexture" "wavy">> wavy</label> <label><<radiobutton "$hairtexture" "curly">> curly</label> <label><<radiobutton "$hairtexture" "coily">> coily</label> Your Crown's skin color is: <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "olive beige">> olive beige</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "tanned beige">> tanned beige</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "bronze beige">> bronze beige</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "golden brown">> golden brown</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "russet brown">> russet brown</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "dark brown">> dark brown</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "warm black">> warm black</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "cool black">> cool black</label> <label><<radiobutton "$skincolor" "deep black">> deep black</label> Finally, your Crown's height is: <label><<radiobutton "$height" "very tall">> very tall</label> <label><<radiobutton "$height" "tall">> tall</label> <label><<radiobutton "$height" "average">> average</label> <label><<radiobutton "$height" "short">> short</label> <label><<radiobutton "$height" "very short">> very short</label> [[Confirm and continue|0.5]]</div>

<div id="content"><<set $storymenu to true>><<set $customization to true>>@@.titleblack;Story Hub@@<<set $pass to 0>><<set $ass to 0>> <b>You can return to the customization menu or this story hub at any time from the sidebar in order to change your settings, or to view the other stories. It is recommended you "Save to Disk" here for future updates!</b> You're all set! On this page is where you'll find the catalogue of character snippets for each love interest or side character. Select the name if available to view their bonus content, and enjoy! @@.titleblacksmall;<b>The Love Interests</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Rêzan's bonus snippets|R Stories]]<<else>>[[Rozerîn's bonus snippets|R Stories]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Xelef's bonus snippets|X Stories]]<<else>>[[Xelara's bonus snippets|X Stories]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Azad's bonus snippets|A Stories]]<<else>>[[Ashti's bonus snippets|A Stories]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Dara's bonus snippets|D Stories]]<<else>>[[Delal's bonus snippets|D Stories]]<</if>></li></ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Side Characters</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[The day Tûjo met Xelef|X and Tujo meeting]]<<else>>[[The day Tûjo met Xelara|X and Tujo meeting]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[The day Heval met Xelef|X and Heval meeting]]<<else>>[[The day Heval met Xelara|X and Heval meeting]]<</if>></li> <li>[[The first time Harun and Nazire met|Hazire]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[The first time Perjin met Rêzan|Perjin]]<<else>>[[The first time Perjin met Rozerîn|Perjin]]<</if>></li> </ul></div>

<<link "Credits" "Credits">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>> <<if $customization is true>><<link "Customization" "0.1">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><</if>> <<if $storymenu is true>><<link "Story Hub" "1.0">><<script>>var viewportWidth = window.innerWidth || document.documentElement.clientWidth; if (viewportWidth < 1000) {$("#sidebar").toggleClass("toggled");}<</script>><</link>><</if>>

<div id="content"><<if $rgender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'rozframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'rezframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap">@@.titlepurple2;$rname's Character Snippets@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>CHARACTER SNIPPETS</b>@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Canon Scene POV</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Meeting the Crown for the first time|R CH2]]</li> <li>[[Nightmare scene from Chapter Three|R CH3]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown dressed up in Chapter Four|R CH4]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown's coronation vision in Chapter Seven|R CH7]]</li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Meeting Azad for the first time.|A R Meeting]]<<else>>[[Meeting Ashti for the first time.|A R Meeting]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Comforting the Crown in Chapter Eight|R CH8]]</li> <li>[[The temple scene in Chapter Ten, high romance variant|R CH10]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, low romance|R CH11 low]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, high romance|R CH11 high]]</li> <li>[[Kiss on the cheek in Chapter Twelve, high romance|R CH12 high]]</li> <li>[[Kissing in the Crown's room in Chapter Twelve, high romance|R CH12 high 2]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Thirteen|R CH13 1]]</li></ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Alternate Scenes</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[The Crown and Rêzan meeting as students at Marabad's School of Magic|R AU]]<<else>>[[The Crown and Rozerîn meeting as students at Marabad's School of Magic|R AU]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[The Crown and Rêzan raised in the Royal Palace together|R AU 2]]<<else>>[[The Crown and Rozerîn raised in the Royal Palace together|R AU 2]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Visiting the orphanage|R 1]]</li> <li>[[Showing off their magic with the Crown|R 2]]</li> </ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Romantic Snippets</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Assassination attempt|R ROM1]]</li> <li>[[On a “date”|R ROM2]]</li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Romantic snippet with Azad|A/R ROM]]<<else>>[[Romantic snippet with Ashti|A/R ROM]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Bathing together|R ROM3 0]]</li> <li>[[Studying together|R ROM4 0]]</li> <li>[[Meeting the Crown during a masquerade ball|R ROM 5]]</li> <li>[[Beach date|R ROM 6]]</li> <li>[[Sparring together|R 3]]</li> <li>[[Horseriding date|R 4]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div></div>

<div id="content"><<if $xgender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'xelaframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'xelframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap">@@.titlepurple2;$xname's Character Snippets@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Canon Scene POV</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Meeting the Crown for the first time|X CH1]]</li> <li>[[Nightmare scene from Chapter Three|X CH3]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown dressed up in Chapter Four|X CH4]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown's coronation vision in Chapter Seven|X CH7]]</li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Meeting Azad for the first time|A X Meeting]]<<else>>[[Meeting Ashti for the first time|A X Meeting]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Comforting the Crown in Chapter Eight|X CH8]]</li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Xelef's secret mission in Chapter Ten|X CH10]]<<else>>[[Xelara's secret mission in Chapter Ten|X CH10]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven|X CH11 high]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, low romance|X CH11 low]]</li> <li>[[The fight with A in Chapter Two|X&A CH2]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Twelve, part 1|X CH12]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Twelve, part 2|X CH12 2]]</li> <li>[[A and D talking about X and the Crown during their reunion in Chapter Eleven|X CH11 AD]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Thirteen, argument version|X CH13 1]]</li> </ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Alternate Scenes in Canon</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[The Crown encountering Xelef as a fellow mercenary.|X AU]]<<else>>[[The Crown encountering Xelara as a fellow mercenary.|X AU]]<</if>></li> </ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Romantic Snippets</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Comfort at night|X ROM1]]</li> <li>[[On a date|X ROM 2]]</li> <li>[[Visit to the pleasure house|X ROM 3]]</li> <li>[[There was only one bed|X ROM 4]]</li> <li><<if $agender is 'male'>>[[Romantic snippet with Azad|A/X ROM]]<<else>>[[Romantic snippet with Ashti|A/X ROM]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $dgender is 'male'>>[[Romantic snippet with Dara|D/X ROM]]<<else>>[[Romantic snippet with Delal|D/X ROM]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Meeting the Crown during a masquerade ball|X ROM 5]]</li> <li>[[The Crown gets injured.|X ROM 6]]</li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[The Crown saves Xelef.|X ROM 7]]<<else>>[[The Crown saves Xelara.|X ROM 7]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Bathing together|X ROM 8]]</li> <li>[[Chasing down a thief at the market.|X ROM 9]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div></div>

<div id="content"><<if $agender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'ashframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'azaframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap">@@.titlepurple2;$aname's Character Snippets@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>CHARACTER SNIPPETS</b>@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Canon Scene POV</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Meeting the Crown for the first time|A CH2]]</li> <li>[[Nightmare scene from Chapter Three|A CH3]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown dressed up in Chapter Four|A CH4]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown's coronation vision in Chapter Seven|A CH7]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Meeting Rêzan for the first time.|A R Meeting]]<<else>>[[Meeting Rozerîn for the first time.|A R Meeting]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Meeting Xelef for the first time|A X Meeting]]<<else>>[[Meeting Xelara for the first time|A X Meeting]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Comforting the Crown in Chapter Eight|A CH8]]</li> <li>[[A scene from the timeskip between Chapter Nine and Ten|A CH10]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, low romance|A CH11 low]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, high romance|A CH11 high]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Twelve, part 1|A CH12]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Twelve, part 2|A CH12 2]]</li> <li>[[After the romance scene in Chapter Thirteen|A CH13]]</li></ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Alternate Scenes</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[The Crown serving as a soldier in the Imperial Army.|A AU]]</li> <li>[[Relationship with the Crown raised as Ferzan's successor.|A AU 2]]</li> </ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Romantic Snippets</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Mandatory bed rest|A ROM1]]</li> <li>[[On a date|A ROM 2]]</li> <li>[[The Crown warming A up during winter.|A ROM 1]]</li> <li><<if $rgender is 'male'>>[[Romantic snippet with Rêzan|A/R ROM]]<<else>>[[Romantic snippet with Rozerîn|A/R ROM]]<</if>></li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Romantic snippet with Xelef|A/X ROM]]<<else>>[[Romantic snippet with Xelara|A/X ROM]]<</if>></li> <li>[[Morning after|A ROM 3]]</li> <li>[[Bathing together|A ROM 4]]</li> <li>[[The Crown protecting A|A ROM 5]]</li> <li>[[On the beach|A ROM 6]]</li> <li>[[Putting on armor|A ROM 7]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div></div>

<div id="content"><<if $dgender is 'female'>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'delaframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><<else>><img @src="setup.ImagePath+'darframe.png'" width=42% id="liframe"/><</if>><div id="nowrap">@@.titlepurple2;$dname's Snippets@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>CHARACTER SNIPPETS</b>@@ @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Canon Scene POV</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[Meeting the Crown for the first time|D CH2]]</li> <li>[[Nightmare scene from Chapter Three|D CH3]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown dressed up in Chapter Four|D CH4]]</li> <li>[[Seeing the Crown's coronation vision in Chapter Seven|D CH7]]</li> <li>[[Comforting the Crown in Chapter Eight|D CH8]]</li> <li>[[In between Chapter Ten and Eleven|D CH10]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, high romance|D CH11 high]]</li> <li>[[Reuniting with the Crown in Chapter Eleven, low romance|D CH11 low]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Twelve, both parts|D CH12]]</li> <li>[[Romance scene in Chapter Thirteen|D CH13]]</li></ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Alternate Scenes</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[The Crown serving as a soldier in the Imperial Army|D AU]]</li> <li>[[Relationship with the Crown raised as Ferzan's successor|D AU 2]]</li> <li>[[The Crown meeting imperial soldiers with D|D 2]]</li></ul> @@.titleblacksmall;<b>Romantic Snippets</b>@@ <ul class="a"> <li>[[A moment of comfort|D ROM1]]</li> <li>[[Jealousy|D ROM2]]</li> <li><<if $xgender is 'male'>>[[Romantic snippet with Xelef|D/X ROM]]<<else>>[[Romantic snippet with Xelara|D/X ROM]]<</if>></li> <li>[[On a date|D ROM3]]</li> <li>[[Making time for each other|D ROM 4]]</li> <li>[[An afternoon on the beach|D ROM 5]]</li> <li>[[Bathing together|D ROM 6]]</li> <li>[[The Crown protects D|D 1]]</li> <li>[[The Crown and D resolve an argument|D 3]]</li> <li>[[D protects the Crown|D 4]]</li> <li>[[Stormy weather at the palace|D 5]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Nightmare@@ “When you become Arsur’s Sorcerer,” Lady Zerya told $rname, long ago, “the Crown will be in your care.” $crthey was too young to comprehend the responsibility that Lady Zerya spoke of, let alone the weight of it. Back then, $rthey was merely Lady Zerya’s shadow; following her around the palace like a duckling, watching her, learning from her, absorbing everything she had to teach, but that didn’t mean that $rname truly <em>understood</em>. Now, as $rthey pushes the doors to the Crown’s chambers open, greeted by the sound of painful gasps as $name struggles to breathe through $their tears, $rname thinks $rthey understands it better. <em>Arsur’s</em> Sorcerer, Lady Zerya said. It was a purposeful choice: in that very moment, $rname sees Arsur’s rise and its fall with every breath of air $name almost chokes on, both of them trying so desperately to survive yet struggling every step of the way with no one and nothing to guide them. The same way $rname felt when Lady Zerya passed away, leaving $rthem feeling lost and alone. $crthey doesn’t know what caused $name pain like this, what it was that $they saw in $their nightmare, but in the moment what matters most is to do for $name what $they did for $rname when $they first appeared in the Forest of Anshan, lighting a path from the darkness that $rname thought was lost forever. $crthey doesn’t hesitate as $rthey hurries to $name’s side, firmly but carefully gripping $their shoulders. “It’s alright, I am here,” $rname says softly, relieved when $name lifts $their head to look $rthem in the eyes. The gold of them shimmer with tears. “I’m right here with you. You’re alright.” When $rname cups $their cheek, $they lean<<if $pronouns isnot "theythem">>s<</if>> into it with such honesty that it’s as if $rname were the only thing holding $them together. That, $rname thinks, must be the weight of it. What Lady Zerya spoke of, what she meant. Cradled by the palm of $rname’s hand, cheek wet with tears, looking for a way out of the darkness. Yet, $name had a way out all along: $they only needed someone to show it to $them. $rname holds a sun in $rtheir hand, one that doesn’t even realize what $they truly <<if $pronouns is "theythem">>are<<else>>is<</if>>. “You feel like sunlight.” It is $rname’s duty to care for $name as Arsur’s Sorcerer, but it’s also more than that. They are, both of them, taking on a task greater than what they could’ve envisioned without any experience to speak of, thrust into the situation without preparation and out of sheer necessity. $rname never complained or wished for anything before, knowing the stakes are too high, wanting nothing more than to fulfill the duty $rthey was granted, but as $name quietly compares $rtheir magic to a star, the smile on $rname’s face reflects the warmth $rthey feels inside. Arsur’s Sorcerer. $crthey thinks $rthey wants to be $name’s Sorcerer, as well. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titleblack;CREDITS@@ @@.titlepurple5;<b>Writing, Coding and Design</b>@@ <a href="https://ataleofcrowns.tumblr.com">qeresî</a> @@.titlepurple5;<b>Game Engine</b>@@ Twine v2.3.16, with SugarCube v2.21.0 @@.titlepurple5;<b>Vector Logo</b>@@ Vecteezy @@.titlepurple5;<b>Character Art</b>@@ <a href="https://artbygaia.tumblr.com">artbygaia</a> <<link "Return" $return>><</link>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Day Tûjo Met $xname@@ Tûjo comes from a family of nomads. Long before the old kingdom of Hathura was settled, longer even before it turned into the province of Şevan as part of the Arsurian Empire, it was a land untouched by claims of ownership. While villages and cities now scatter throughout the Silent Desert and its famed oases, there are many in Şevan who still live as nomads, adhering to older ways of living, traveling in caravans from place to place. It doesn’t mean that they don’t have a home, as is often misunderstood even by others in Şevan who have settled in its towns and cities. Their home is not to be pinpointed to single patch of land: it is Şevan. With its sprawling, ever-shifting golden hills, hiding rare dips and divots of sparkling blue and green where oases flourish, as if the desert protects it; with its towering cliffs overlooking the glittering sand below, home to a different desert of arid meadows painted in reds and oranges like an eternal sunset; with all the life that it is home to, its people and its spirits and its animals that roam its harsh but beautiful plains. No one has seen it better, no one knows it better than its nomads do, and no one will ever adore it as much as they do. Şevan is breathtaking and Tûjo loves it, but ever since he was a young child, he has always had a never-ending curiosity to see what lies beyond it. His mothers always jest and joke that he was made to be a nomad down to his very spirit, but they stop laughing the day he asks to leave. It takes a long time to convince the both of them, especially as he’s still quite young, barely fourteen years. His mothers only relent when his aunt—a merchant who often ventures to Avdin and Zerat to do business—promises that she will look after him, and that they’ll be back before the year’s end. They have relatives in those provinces who have settled, and who he can stay with. Finally, his mothers persuaded, they leave in the spring to Zerat. That’s when Tûjo meets $xname. His aunt sits wounded on the side of the road as the sun sets, clutching her side where a bandit cut their knife into her. Tûjo stands frozen in the middle of the road, staring as a child his age puts their bloodied blade aside, crouching down to tend to his aunt with the same steady composure as they cut down the bandits with one by one. Their bodies lie scattered on the ground. “Do you have any bandages?” the other child says, glancing up at Tûjo expectantly. “I don’t know any healing magic.” Tûjo startles out of his trance. “In her bag.” His aunt turns out alright: the knife-wound wasn’t too deep, and they manage to staunch the bleeding. Thankfully, the robbery attempt was unsuccessful, and the horses that pull his aunt’s cart are spooked but unharmed. Walking the rest of the way to Zeratun would’ve been impossible with his aunt’s injury. The child, their savior, introduces $xthemselves as $xname, and accompanies them to the capital city. $cxthey’s only a year older than Tûjo. “Where are your parents?” his aunt asks, worried despite her own wounds. “Are you traveling alone?” $xname shrugs. “I can keep myself safe.” $cxthey tags along to the shop, where one of his aunt’s assistants hurries away to call for a healer. Tûjo stares at the bone-white shamshir strapped to the belt around $xname’s waist as he holds his aunt’s hand. When $xname ducks out of the shop when $xthey thinks no one is looking, Tûjo goes after $xthem. “Can I follow you?” He’s not sure what possesses him to ask. Maybe it’s merely gratitude for saving his aunt’s life, or maybe it’s admiration for how $xname seems so free and fearless, not tied down by anything, not burdened by anyone. But then, maybe, it’s also the way $xname risked $xtheir life for strangers, seeming not to care for $xtheir own safety. Being free and roaming without ties and burdens might sound pretty, but Tûjo knows that nomads travel in groups for a reason. Alone, they’re merely a target, no matter how strong they are. $xname smiles at him in a sad but amused kind of way, like Tûjo has no idea what he’s asking. “You need someone to watch your back,” Tûjo says, arguing an unspoken skepticism plain on $xname’s face. “I owe you, so let me do it.” “Do you even know how to fight?” “I can learn.” $xname frowns. “Look after your aunt first,” $xname says, though $xthey relents a little. “I’ll come visit in a few days; I won’t stop you if you still want to follow me then.” “I will,” Tûjo promises. Days pass. $xname is as good as $xtheir word, and so is Tûjo. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Nightmare@@ $xname’s feet carry $xthem back toward the Royal Palace before $xthey realizes it, drawn towards its heart where its master tosses and turns in a fitful sleep. It seems an unnecessary gesture when the Crown is guarded by over a dozen people, $aname among them. If there were any true danger, they would be the first ones to react, and even from this distance $xname can sense it is nothing more than a nightmare. $cxthey should turn around and leave, go back to enjoying $xtheir night, but $xtheir feet don’t listen. They carry $xthem across the palace grounds, into its maze-like hallways, towards the golden room where $name gasps a sob, the whisper of it reeling $xname in until $xthey stands before the massive doors. Past them is likely a sight that $xname expects, yet doesn’t wish to see because $xthey knows how it will affect $xthem. Yet, as $xthey listens to the Crown struggle to breathe, $xtheir hand pushes one of the doors open before $xthey can think better of it. Inside, $xname sees $xthemselves. Alone and grieving, nothing but ashes in $xtheir memories, ghosts that haunt $xtheir dreams—$xname freezes, only for a moment. This is exactly what $xthey didn’t want to happen. The empathy of it all, the recognition, and inevitably, the urge to fix it. To stick $xtheir nose in a place it doesn’t belong, becoming involved, becoming attached; nothing good can come of it. But how can $xthey leave, when $name looks at $xthem with such heartbreak in $xtheir eyes? $xname tries to soothe it, but $xtheir attempts feel stilted. The thought that $xthey shouldn’t be here keeps running through $xtheir head, for so many reasons that $xthey doesn’t want to think about, but another part of $xthem can’t bring $xthemselves to pull away. $name, beneath $their sorrow, holds fear in $their heart. While $xname can sense another’s emotions to a certain extent, $xthey cannot sense what they’re caused by: it could be any number of things. The weight of expectations looming over $name like dreadful towers, the thought of making a mistake that cannot be taken back, or perhaps, even simpler— The fear of being alone. $xname doesn’t know, not with certainty, but isn’t it something everyone fears at least a little, in some way? Perhaps it’s $xtheir own fear that $xthey places onto $name in that moment, but $xname knows it intimately. Knows it to $xtheir bones, to the core of $xtheir spirit: the realization that there is no one left alive who would care if you died. The knowledge that you’re as small and insignificant as ashes after a fire. The dread that your name will be forgotten, your existence erased, as if you never mattered—that even <em>you</em> will forget yourself, eventually. Yet, $xname conquered it, and so will $name. “I’m here, $name,” $xthey mutters softly, opening $xtheir arms to $name, who sinks into their embrace with a plea for reassurance in $their hands as they grasp onto $xname’s tunic. “There’s nothing for you to fear.” $cxthey doesn’t know if it would be of comfort to $name as $xthey has no certainty in what caused $their distress, so $xthey keeps the words to $xthemselves. Both a promise and a curse. <em>I will never forget you.</em> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Nightmare@@ $cathey doesn’t want to be here. Most of $aname’s childhood memories are of the Imperial Palace in Zeratun, where $atheir father and $atheir family spent most of their time. The view from the sky is etched into $atheir memory, looking down upon the city and the endless horizon of Arsur from the golden halls of the Seat of the Crown, gleaming like a second sun. That same gold now stares back at $athem from the doors to $name’s bedchamber, carved with the emblem of a Rukh. The giant eagle parts as $aname opens the doors, drawn forward by the sound of gasping breaths from within. $cathey doesn’t want to be here, but $athey <em>needs</em> to be. The Crown sits among bedsheets twisted around $their body, coiled around $their legs like a serpent strangling limbs. $cthey drowns in air, caught in the throes of a fear so deep that even with $aname’s limited abilities in sensing, $athey can hear the way $name’s heart pounds from across the room. $aname makes $atheir way over to $their bedside, projecting calm even while memories come flooding back of a time $athey wishes $athey could forget. $cathey said goodbye to $atheir father in a room like this, sitting at the edge of his bed as a young child. Watching as he wasted away from disease before $aname’s eyes. The weight of a nation crushed him, year by year, day by day, until Crown Piruz withered away to a corpse silk sheets, a trail of blood following him from his throne to his bedchamber and staining his hands even then. Death a hundred times over could not have made up for his cruelty, yet $aname still mourned him. $cathey did not know about $atheir father’s crimes as a child, and by the time $athey discovered how Piruz had been recorded into history, it was already too late. But it’s different this time. $name grasps onto $atheir hands as if they were $their anchors. Not even yet a Crown, not truly; as unshaped and raw as the magic within $them, the warmth of it glowing gently against $aname’s palms. $aname came here for $atheir own reasons, yet $athey realizes then and there as $athey looks upon $name’s tear-streaked face that history need not repeat. $cathey has the power to <em>do</em> something now, to protect those $athey could not before as they suffered under the rule of Cowardly Piruz. The only question is what kind of Crown $name will turn out to be. $aname could not guess it, having only met $them earlier that day, and perhaps it’s $aname's own idealistic wish to correct the past blinding $athem once again now, yet part of $athem wishes it dearly. For everyone’s sake. “Could you stay for a while?” $name asks $athem, reaching out for safety. $cthey shouldn’t. $aname’s allegiance doesn’t—can’t—lie with $them, not if $athey wishes to right the wrongs of the past, but $name hasn’t yet realized this. Doesn’t know the history carried in $aname’s memories, distorting the shadows of the palace into specters of guilt and shame. But if $they <em><<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>></em> different, as $aname hopes… “Of course,” $aname answers. $cathey will stay. Whether as the Crown’s protector, or $their executioner. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Nightmare@@ $dname has seen nightmares like this before. In soldiers, set off by innocuous sounds, like from a ladle clanging against an iron pot. Their eyes wild, panting through gritted teeth, seeing enemies where there were none as if they were back on the battlefield again. In civilians, frightened by the sight of those same soldiers and their weapons. Freezing, screaming, cowering as the fear in their memories overtook them; of their homes being burned down, their loved ones being killed before their eyes. $dname has seen it in $dtheir mother, too. Heard her toss and turn in her sleep, heard the pained groaning, seen her startle awake and reach for the dagger beneath her pillow at the smallest sound. $cdthey has even seen its quietest, smallest signs. Felt it within $dthemselves. The apathy, the detachment, the gaps in $dtheir memories of battles—$dtheir spirit trying to protect $dthem from the uncontrollable fear by numbing $dthem to it. Repressing it, burying it as deep as possible. Yet it can’t erase the suffocating guilt of watching $dtheir comrades be mercilessly cut down, the haunting thoughts that keep $dthem lying awake at night even years later: <em>I should’ve done more</em>. $dname has seen it, experienced it, too many times. It brings a surety to $dtheir steps as $dtheir feet quickly carry $dthem to the Crown’s bedside, where $name cannot breathe through that all too familiar fear. What kind of terror must $they have experienced for the nightmares to grip $them like this? “You are safe,” $dname says quietly but with certainty, comforting $name like $dthey has done for soldiers under $dtheir command before. Often untrained, inexperienced, volunteers signed up to protect their home and loved ones, unprepared as they faced the horrors and cruelty of battle. The same as $dname was when $dthey followed $dtheir mother into the army as a child. She tried to shield $dname from the worst of it until $dthey was old enough to fight, but $dname will never forget the first night $dthey spent at camp, watching soldiers arrive from a battle recently fought. The looks on their faces—the <em>bodies</em>, both of those living and dead. $cdthey was as unprepared as $name is now. A Crown in name only, thrown into the depths, not taught as $they should have been because $their teachers were taken from $them before they could ever meet. In that, at least, $dname still had the benefit of years of guidance and training from $dtheir mother, from $dtheir seniors; $name has no one. And $dname cannot afford the mistake of thinking $dthey could fill that role for $them. While $dname rules in $dtheir own way, $dthey will never know what it is to <em>be</em> a ruler, not like $name will, and growing too close to $name could hurt them both. $dname’s judgment has to be unclouded, unbiased—$dthey is not $name, and $name is not $dthem. The General and the Crown coexist, but must remain separate, for the good of the country. “You’re leaving?” The Crown looks at $dthem with visible disappointment, and for a moment, $dname hesitates. “It is best if I do not linger,” $dname replies, reminding $dthemselves of what is wise, of what is for the greater good, of the sacrifice $dthey willingly took on when $dthey stepped into $dtheir mother’s shoes. So $dthey leaves, even while wishing $dthey didn't have to. To rule is to be alone. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Your Crown's name is $name $surname, going by $they/$them, and $their love interests are set as $rname, $xname, $aname and $dname. $ctheir hair color is $haircolor with a $hairtexture texture, $their skintone is $skincolor, and $their height is $height. Is this correct? [[Yes, continue to the bonus content.|1.0]] [[No, take me back to the customization menu|0.1]]</div>

<div id="content">Your Crown's family name is: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Xanî|0.3][$surname to "Xanî"]]</li> <li>[[Erdelanî|0.3][$surname to "Erdelanî"]]</li> <li>[[Teyran|0.3][$surname to "Teyran"]]</li> <li>[[Cizîrî|0.3][$surname to "Cizîrî"]]</li> <li>[[Koyî|0.3][$surname to "Koyî"]]</li> <li>[[Goran|0.3][$surname to "Goran"]]</li> <li>[[Qubadî|0.3][$surname to "Qubadî"]]</li> <li>[[Herîrî|0.3][$surname to "Herîrî"]]</li> </ul></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ The edge of a silver coin twists atop the scratched surface of a worn, wooden table. With each turn the engravings of serpents on its sides catch the golden sun setting outside, reflecting rapid flashes of light. A large, tanned hand hovers above it, big fingers moving with precise delicacy. The middle finger is tipped downwards and circling in small motions as if stirring a cup of tea; a subtle touch of magic keeps the coin spinning endlessly, dancing in spirals across the table. Its puppeteer sighs as the minutes pass, quickly growing weary of the game. He pulls his hand upwards and, as if connected by invisible string, the coin flies into his palm. Pocketing it, the magus peers out over the nearly empty teashop he finds himself in from beneath the hood of his cloak. He sits a moment longer, rubbing at the dark brown curls of his beard as he hesitates, but then finally rises from his chair. It has been two hours: clearly, his appointment stood him up. Harun leaves the shop, having long since drank and paid for several cups of tea. As he slips out the door onto the streets of Marabad, shuddering at a gust of winter wind sweeping through the city, he regrets not ordering pastries while waiting; he didn’t want to be rude by eating before his appointment showed up. The sound of the teashop’s door falling shut—delayed—nearly has him pause. He feels the weight of a gaze on his back. His hand reflexively slips to the dagger he keeps strapped to his belt, briefly touching the handle to reassure himself of its position. His command of inner magic is weak; if someone were to slip past his defenses, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. In which case, a weapon is always wise to have on hand. He turns a corner, managing to sneak a glance behind him. A figure trails a short distance behind him, their face similarly obscured by the hood of a cloak—a shabby one, and Harun catches the shape of a plain short-sword strapped to their waist. A common thief, no doubt having chosen Harun as their mark. Perhaps he should not have been toying around with silver so carelessly. Should he go find a district watcher, or a city guard? Usually a neighborhood like this would have its own patrols, but Harun has scarcely run into anyone since arriving. No doubt part of the reason his appointment chose this location, insisting on discretion. Harun slips into another alleyway, walking faster. The suspected thief trailing him speeds up as well. Harun hears the sound of a sword being unsheathed Well, this is predictable. He stops abruptly, spinning on his heel to face the thief who nearly stumbles with their sword in hand, and Harun lashes his hand out with the quickness of a whip. The air reacts to his command, a thin stream cutting through space like an arrow fired from a bow, smashing with force into the robber’s chest. They’re knocked harshly onto their back, grunting in shock from the sudden impact as they lose their grip on their sword. The blade clatters across the alley as Harun approaches, standing over the would-be thief with his palm raised, a small vortex of air swirling between his clawed fingers. “I may be a fool for flashing coin in the open,” Harun says to the gasping thief, still gathering their breath, “but you are twice the fool for targeting someone displaying such an effortless use of magic. What was your goal?” The thief, to his surprise, lets out a breathless laugh. “To distract you.” Movement from the corners of his eyes; too late, Harun sees more figures appear ahead of him. When he glances behind him, there are even more at the other end of the alleyway. Harun blinks. “This is rather elaborate for a robbery.” He gives the thief a questioning look as their comrades approach. “Is all of this truly about stealing coin?” “Look around you, my friend,” the thief spits, leaning up onto their elbows. “We’re not exactly swimming in wealth. Judging by the weight of that pouch on your belt, you’ve got more than just a few silvers—that’s enough for us. Now hand it over, and no one will have to get hurt.” One of the other thieves ahead of him aims an arrow right for his head while others unsheathe various daggers, swords and axes. This is problematic. It won’t be the end of the world if the coin is stolen, but his benefactor for the expedition won’t be pleased. Still, it’s better than ending up dead in an alley. Harun extinguishes his magic and raises his hands in the air in a placating gesture. “Very well. I know when I’m outnumbered.” He reaches down to his coin pouch, untying it from his belt with one hand and holding it up. “This is what you want, yes?” “Not so fast.” A voice echoes from high above, and Harun as well as the guild of thieves all look up in unison. There is a figure shadowed against the light of the sun, standing atop one of the buildings framing the alley, bent over the roof with a foot atop the edge and a sword casually slung over their shoulder. They step almost casually over the edge, dropping down into the alley, a fluttering red cape trailing behind them as they land neatly on their feet. They lift their head to meet Harun’s gaze, the intensity of earth-dark eyes boring into his black ones as they tell him, “That’s <em>my</em> coin you’re bargaining with.” Is this… the mercenary Harun had an appointment with earlier? “You’re Nazire?” he asks, stunned, and the mercenary gives him a lopsided smile, the pale of her teeth contrasting the warm, sun-soaked tones of her deep brown skin. <<if $hairtexture isnot 'straight'>>Her mid-length, $haircolor hair fans out around her, <<if $hairtexture is 'coily'>>coily texture framed around her head in looser locks like a halo<</if>><<if $hairtexture is 'curly' or $hairtexture is 'wavy'>>lustrous $hairtexture locks blown out in the winter breeze<</if>><<else>>Her long, $haircolor hair is tied into a single thick braid down her back, swaying gently in the winter breeze<</if>>. “Did I keep you waiting?” she replies with feigned innocence, seeming amused by his poorly-hidden surprise. “You’ll have to excuse me, I got lost on the way here.” An obvious lie, but they can discuss that later. “What do you think you’re interrupting here, friend?” the thief Harun knocked over earlier snaps, scrambling up to their feet and peering with wariness at her large curved sword, still casually leaning with the flat of its blade atop Nazire’s shoulder. Her smile fades as her gaze shifts to the thief. She swings her sword down off her shoulder, the heavy arc of it suggesting the considerable weight of the blade as it rests in her hand with the tip pointed down. Not threatening, not yet. Based on the way she landed after jumping from such a distance, she must possess talent in inner magic, or both her legs would’ve been broken. Not to mention the strength in her arm to be able to wield such a heavy blade as if it were a feather, carrying it with nonchalance. “A robbery,” Nazire replies wryly. “But there has been a misunderstanding: the coin you’re trying to steal from him belongs to me—in essence, you are robbing <em>me</em>, not the scholar.” The thief glances nervously over to his comrades, who suddenly seem a lot less certain of themselves. They must have noticed the same thing Harun did: one does not trifle with an inner magic user who is skilled in combat, especially not in the close quarters of an alleyway. Still, the thief does not look entirely convinced. Harun catches them try to signal something with a hand to their fellows behind them—and so does Nazire. Faster than his eye can follow, Nazire lunges forward and grabs the thief by the neck, fingernails digging into their skin. “Wait—” She lifts them up by the throat as they choke, eyes wide in both disbelief and terror, hands scrambling against her grip while their feet dangle off the ground. Harun stares in stupefied silence, his gaze falling on the muscles flexed beneath the sleeves of her tunic, carrying the thief’s weight with seeming ease. “Stand down,” Nazire calls coolly to the other thieves while casually swinging her sword back up to her shoulder, not a single hint of strain in her voice, “or I snap your friend’s neck like a twig.” The other thieves seem to get the message. They exchange looks with each other, before they begin to back away, disappearing from the alley altogether. Satisfied, Nazire drops the thief and they collapse to their knees, wheezing as they rub at their throat. She turns her back on them, as if dismissing them from her mind. “To the void with this,” the thief curses, scrambling up and running out the alley. Turning back to Harun, Nazire looks him up and down, her eyes assessing. Harun instinctively stands up straighter; even though she’s shorter than him, it feels as if she towers over him by presence alone. “Truthfully, I was hoping for a fight,” Nazire admits. “It would have been a better display of my talents, but I trust this was sufficient. Harun $surname, I take it?” Harun gapes at her. “You did this to impress me?” “You’re likely to be a future employer, if your coin is as good as I’ve heard,” Nazire answers simply. “Besides, those thieves were tracking you from the moment you entered the district. It wasn’t safe to have a business discussion until I could get them out of the way.” “Ah.” Harun rubs at his chin, feeling embarrassed. “That was certainly efficient. I hadn’t noticed I was being followed until I left the teashop.” Nazire quirks a brow. “I could tell.” Her gaze trails over him once more, and her gaze shifts to something with a hint of intrigue. “Are you really a scholar? You’re built like an ox.” Harun is struck speechless for a moment. It isn’t the first time he’s gotten a comment about his stature—for some reason, the public seems to have the misconception that all magi are small, dainty academics—but it’s the first time he’s gotten it from someone like <em>her</em>. He clears his throat, ignoring the heat rushing up to his cheeks. “I’m a trained magus, yes. I’ve been looking for mercenaries who have expertise in surviving the wilderness, though your- other skills are certainly an added benefit.” “You mean the skill of lifting someone up by their throat?” Nazire says, a mischievous curve of her lips. “I don’t know if I would call that a skill so much as a hobby.” Harun swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “Yes, well… shall we move this discussion to a more suitable location?” Nazire steps to the side. “After you.” As he passes by her, feeling her watching him, he has a strong feeling that he’s about to part with all his coin. Happily, at that, if it keeps her eyes on him. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Meeting Crown $name@@ When $dname proposes $dtheir idea to help the Crown leave an impression on the nobility, $xname doesn't immediately agree. “If you're going to use my reputation as a tool,” $xname replies, “then expect an added fee.” The casual air to $xtheir words earns $xthem a frown from $dname, though that’s to be expected. Once the Crown appeared $dthey grasped the opportunity to redeem $dtheir family’s name with both hands, more than eager to prove $dthemselves. It’s different for $xname. The thought of bending the knee so openly to the Crown arouses such conflicting feelings that $xthey cannot hear what $xtheir instincts are telling $xthem, the usual clarity of intuition $xthey possesses dimmed by darker thoughts, looming memories. The Crescent Blades want to move on—they’ve been here too long already, chasing around petty bandits in the forest at the behest of Steward Welat’s glittering coin. As underhanded as $xname was by using $name in $xtheir scheme to draw out the cultist spies, in the end, $xthey kept to their agreement and delivered the Crown to $rname safe and sound. $cxtheir task is complete; there is nothing else keeping $xthem here. Nothing else, aside from golden eyes. $xname agrees to $dname’s ploy before $xtheir better sense takes over, pushing down any misgivings. It’s a foolish thing to do, and $xname realizes as much the moment $xthey enters the throne room and $xtheir gaze alights upon the Crown’s throne, empty and waiting for its master to claim it. Something thick and heavy and <em>vile</em> balls in $xtheir throat. $cxthey swallows it down with difficulty, feeling it settling in $xtheir gut like a stone, and $xthey seeks refuge in the shadows of the throne room’s columns while the nobles trickle into the hall one by one. A seemingly endless procession of ants, dutifully lining up below the radiance of Arsur’s mountaintop. It would appear to an outsider to be blind obedience, but their hands are just as bloody as the corpses that throne was built upon, even long before Ashadūna’s time. She could not wash the stains of it, and $xname resents her for trying. Her and her successors, killing innocents, killing kin, and being bathed in gold for it. Yet here $xname is. The same as the rest of them, about to bend $xtheir pride for a stranger that will be no different than $their predecessors, as history has proven time and again. What is $xthey doing here? Why didn’t $xthey just <em>leave</em>? What would $xtheir mother say, if she could see $xname now? $cxthey knows very well the answers to these questions, ones $xthey does not want to face. Ones $xthey avoids facing, too, because it is then that the sun arrives. $name steps out from behind the curtains, into the light, and $they<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>'re<<else>>'s<</if>> breathtaking. The golden lines painted around $their imperious gaze marks $them as something painful for $xname to acknowledge, every speck of dirt and trace of scar that made $them so human in $xname’s eyes now hidden behind the bloody red of finery that adorns $them so beautifully. $dname’s plan feels almost relieving now, for the way it lets $xname make a mockery of it, of that horrible golden statue engulfing the person beneath. Yet when $name meets $xname’s gaze, $xname wishes that $xthey hadn’t sought out that sun-eyed stare for what it reflects. A glimmer of faith. Some measure of belief, despite the confusion and surprise that $name feels, that $xname isn’t undermining $them senselessly. No anger or tension, no indignation, no outrage. Even after what $xname did in the forest, using $name for $xtheir own gain, $they still extends $their hand in trust. $xname wishes $xthey could take it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Meeting Crown $name@@ $rname doesn’t have many memories of Crown Ferzan. Lady Zerya found $rthem a year after Crown Piruz died and Ferzan succeeded him. Back then, early in Ferzan’s rule, $rname was educated by private tutors and Lady Zerya herself from morning till night—by $rtheir own request—and saw little of the new Crown who was elbow deep in cleaning up the messes that Crown Piruz left behind. From what $rname remembers, Ferzan was a stern man with strong convictions, lacking in patience for rules of decorum that govern the Imperial Court and the hierarchy within the empire. He addressed even his servants as his equals, to the great indignation of the nobility. The few times $rname spoke with him, even as a child, Crown Ferzan addressed $rthem the same. It was intimidating, but empowering at the same time. Then he died, leaving Lady Zerya with the task to find the new Crown. When she couldn’t, she was mocked and berated, made an outcast. A pitiful Crown who only lasted a short 5 years, the shortest in Arsur’s history, and an aging Sorcerer who could not even find the chosen successor. All the nobles who had been biting their tongue during Ferzan’s reign, stripped of their power by him, now saw an opportunity to return. $rname will never forget the agonizing humiliation. Lady Zerya laid on her deathbed with tears of shame in her eyes, clinging to $rname's hand and begging forgiveness for leaving $rthem to shoulder this burden alone. The most powerful magus in all of Arsur spent her last moments in pain and regret. It was a given that $rname would receive even worse treatment. Having refused to adhere to their rules and submit to the exams of the Schools of Magic, $rtheir family poor and without connections, $rthey had no title or influence beyond what was given to $rthem by the Crown and the Sorcerer. Even $rtheir undeniable talent in magic was questioned and belittled. The first time $rname sees $name emerge from behind the curtains and step into the throne room, $rthey knows all of that will change. It reminds $rthem of the times $rthey saw Crown Ferzan seated upon that same throne whenever they traveled to stay in Marabad during the spring. The center of the empire is embodied in the Crown, in $name’s glittering golden eyes staring down at the nobles bowing before $them far below—$rname almost feels resentful of it. No single person should have this much power. Without $name, $rname means nothing. With $name, $rname means everything. The upwelling of hope $rthey first felt tenses as $rthey announces the Crown to the nobility. $crthey feels $name’s gaze upon $rtheir back, and wonders what will happen should $name ever make a decision that goes against $rname’s own sense of justice. $crthey was so fixated on <em>finding</em> the Crown that $rthey never had the time to even imagine such a possibility. $name asked $rthem the very same question as well, more mindful of the future than $rname: <em>“If I were to make a decision that you would never agree with, would you truly let that stand?”</em> $crthey still doesn’t know the answer, and part of $rthem wonders if $rthey is foolish for putting $rtheir faith in a stranger. But what other choice does $rthey have? Hope, and $name, is all $rthey has left. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Meeting Crown $name@@ The very first time $dname saw the Crown, $dthey immediately realized the situation $they must be in, and what this would mean once $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> to be introduced to the nobility. In history, the Crown’s background has always varied. There have been as many rulers who have emerged from poverty and hardship as there have been from wealth and renown. It has been a while since a Crown came from a more modest background—Crown Keybanû was the last, born to a family of carpet weavers—but <em>this</em> Crown’s situation may be an unprecedented one. $cthey appeared from the forest dressed in worn and muddied garb, fingers stained with dirt, and looking past the shock of $their golden gaze $their eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. For all intents and purposes, their new Crown looked as if $they spent a lifetime being hunted. It is a wonder $their complexion looks as well and healthy as it does, considering all the hardships $they must have endured. Either way, Crown $name’s physical appearance is one thing, but to explain $their complete lack of a background to the nobility is another. $dname is certain there is more to be told about Crown $name’s family and origins, but it is not the time to push $them on it when <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>they’ve<<else>>$they has<</if>> only just arrived at the palace. Nonetheless, the nobility won’t gracefully wait for an audience now that <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>they’ve<<else>>$they has<</if>> appeared. $dname is certain the nobles will make the first move as soon as possible, and not merely out of impatience; they will want to posture. After a decade of free reign it is unthinkable that they would give up all the wealth and influence that they’ve accrued willingly. Sending an untested Crown that didn’t have the chance to be mentored by their predecessor to face them would be like sending a lamb into the lion’s den. To secure the Crown’s authority, and to prevent the nobility from having their way, a display of power is necessary. “Are you sure about this?” $xname says skeptically when $dname proposes $dtheir plan to have $xname bend the knee during the audience with the nobles that morning. “I know you want to restrain the nobility, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the Crown is the better choice.” $dname expected $xthem to say as much, considering $xtheir history regarding Crown Piruz, but that doesn’t mean $xname is wrong. “If $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>aren’t<<else>>isn’t<</if>>, then we’ll deal with that situation as it arises,” $dname answers coolly, and $xname arches $xtheir brows. “You’ve been adamant about your devotion to the Crown from the moment $they appeared,” $xthey says, eyes narrowing with calculation. “But it’s not really that simple, is it, $dname?” “I am a tool for the Crown to use,” $dname answers, “just as the Crown is a tool for Arsur to use. Either of us could be discarded at a moment’s notice.” $xname remains silent for a moment, before finally stating, “If you're going to use <em>my</em> reputation as a tool, then expect an added fee.” $dname isn’t there to see it when $xname tests Crown $name’s boundaries. $cdthey only hears about it afterwards, with relief as it is told that the Crown handled $themselves well and established $themselves as a ruler who is not to be trifled with or walked over. In the moment, however, as $dname steps into the throne room and finally comes face to face with the Crown after ten years of waiting, $dthey smothers any feelings that arise as $dthey bows to $them in front of the vultures. $dname’s features do not flinch, $dtheir gaze does not waver, but $dtheir heart lightens with a sigh that carries an immeasurable sense of relief. At last, after a long winter, the sun has risen to warm the earth. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Meeting Crown $name@@ $aname remembers the first time $atheir father presented $athem to the Imperial Court, soon after $atheir eighth birthday. $catheir older sister, Axîn, already went through the process a few years before $athem, when their father was in better health. He had smiled with warmth back then, but by the time it was $aname’s turn to be introduced to the court, things were different. Everything had changed. Crown Piruz could no longer walk unassisted. Even healing magic and medicinal tonics could only do so much; with every step he took, his breaths strained with labor. He relied heavily upon his cane, insisting to walk on his own two feet. To be seen carried by his guards would be all but admitting that his time as a Crown would soon be over. It wasn’t long after that Piruz would receive his vision and Ferzan would be chosen as his successor. Yet even still, he appeared before $aname dressed in royal gold. The weight of the robes and jewelry that he wore must have been a struggle for him to carry, and $aname could see his hand shaking where his fist was clenched around his cane, but he refused the help of his servants. “Are you ready?” father asked, and all $aname could do was nod in silence. “Then come. This must be done, while I can still walk.” $aname drew a deep breath, staving off the urge to cry that $athey knew would overwhelm $athem if $athey looked upon $atheir father for too long. Father was in much more pain than $aname; $athey had to be strong for him. “Place your hand on my shoulder, bavo. I’ll support you.” $cathey felt $atheir father’s hand atop their head, fingers feeling bonier than they used to be. “My good child,” $atheir father said, but the fondness in his voice that he would so often praise $aname with was now strained to the point of exhaustion. He clung to $aname’s shoulder as they walked, the only thing $aname could do for him. It was a necessity, presenting $aname to the court so that $atheir status as Crownsblood would be officially noted in the records. It was for after Crown Piruz passed away. $aname isn’t certain what it was about that day in particular. Perhaps because it made the possibility of $atheir father’s premature passing real to $athem for the first time, but there were plenty of other signs before that. It wasn’t as if $aname had been blind to the daily visits of the royal physicians, constantly treating $atheir father in private, when the Crown thought his family would not notice. Crown Piruz and $aname’s father had always been two separate people in $aname’s mind, until that day. $aname knows that it doesn’t make sense, yet as a child, the two finally melded together and it felt as if the Crown had taken $atheir father away from $athem. Becoming the Crown meant there was less and less left of Piruz, until eventually, it killed him. All those who suffered under his rule would say it was nothing less than he deserved, and they’d be right. Back then, $aname didn’t know, couldn’t understand; $athey was only a child, watching $atheir beloved father wither away before $atheir eyes. So the first time $name appears before $aname, dressed in royal garments with the symbolic paint drawn across $their face, $aname could not suppress a wince in the face of it. That glare of gold, the one whose weight $atheir father had been crushed under. The grief of it is always accompanied by its shadow. The guilt of mourning for someone who did irreparable damage to the country, who took the lives of countless people. Yet $name stares back at $athem with innocence. $ctheir hands not yet bloodied, the weight of $their title not yet burdening $them. Not yet. $aname wonders, and fears, for how much longer that will last. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ That day, $rname already came to terms with the fact that $rthey would likely not find the Crown in Rojan. At the start of $rtheir search, coming up empty was often a bitter thing to accept, but as time passed $rname almost became accustomed to the familiar feeling of disappointment. The search for the Crown is still a priority, but the possibility that one would never be found became easier and easier to visualize with every passing day. If that were the case, it would fall on $rname and others to find a way to create a functioning government without the position of a Crown. $rname ponders this matter once more later that day while sipping tea, after their journey to Zeratun was met with an ambush and $rthey fled to a nearby outpost. It was the Crescent Blades who attacked, which means their business must be with General $dname rather than with $rname; the Pale Sword has no motive to disturb $rname’s search. As such, $rname isn’t particularly concerned. Until $rthey hears $xname’s shout coming from outside the outpost. $rname’s heart almost stops; in $rtheir haste to run outside, $rthey nearly drops $rtheir cup of tea and knocks over $rtheir chair. If this is a joke that $xname is playing on $rthem, then $rname won’t hesitate to punish $xthem for it, but if it’s <em>true</em>— The moment $rname steps outside, $rthey sees them, and realizes it is no joke. It’s the Crown. Their golden eyes stare back at $rname from a face $rthey has seen before as if from a dream, an unearthly vision passed down to $rthem from Lady Zerya. The $skincolor skin around the gold of their eyes glistens lightly with sweat, their hands and fingers stained with dirt, but even with the grime and dust covering them the sight of them is striking. They have the look of someone who has been through hardships $rname couldn’t imagine, yet clung to life despite it all and survived. $rname can hardly believe it. A million questions go through $rtheir mind—where has the Crown been all this time, why didn’t they reveal themselves earlier, what must they have went through to get here—all accompanied by an immense sense of gratitude. “You found me.” $rname doesn’t hesitate to kneel, closing $rtheir eyes when $rthey feels them well up with tears at the thought that Lady Zerya should’ve been the one to find them. The injustice of it gives a bittersweet tinge to $rname’s relief as $rthey holds the Crown’s hand with $rtheir own, wishing that Lady Zerya’s spirit bears witness to this moment. All the pain and suffering and humiliation— <em>It wasn’t for nothing</em>, $rname wishes $rthey could tell her. <em>We did it, teacher, we found the Crown</em>. There are still many uncertainties in the near future. $rname has no idea what kind of Crown this person, this stranger, will turn out to be, but if nothing else $rname has fulfilled $rtheir first duty as Arsur’s Sorcerer and as Lady Zerya’s student. The Crown, in this moment, likely has no idea how much this means to $rname, but $rname swears to $rthemselves that $rthey will find a way to repay the Crown ten times over. $crthey hopes that, with this, $rtheir teacher’s spirit can finally rest. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ While $dname suspected the entire ambush to be yet another one of $xname’s schemes, $dthey could not possibly have anticipated its true purpose. $aname stands in the clearing with nonchalant audacity, the spies that $dname and $rtitle $rname carefully allowed to be planted among the Imperial Guards all passed out on the forest floor. How did $athey and $xname find out? The answer arrives from beneath a tattered and worn cloak, gleaming gold. $dname can do nothing but stare, lips parting in wordless astonishment. Part of $dthem thinks $dtheir eyes must be deceiving $dthem, or that this must be one of $xname’s tricks, but $dtheir vision works perfectly and $xname would not be so callous. The Crown. $cdthey would’ve laughed if $dthey wasn’t so stunned by the development. A hundred things rush through $dtheir mind, a thousand questions, but $dthey silences them all as $dthey takes in Arsur’s missing ruler, standing there before $dthem. <<if $height is 'average'>>An average stature, standing up to full height, yet it does not diminish the glare of gold.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>Taller than $dname expected, standing up to full height as their eyes meet.<</if>><<if $height is 'short'>>Shorter than $dname expected, standing up to full height, yet it does not diminish the glare of gold.<</if>><<if $height is 'very short'>>Quite a bit shorter than $dname expected, standing up to full height, yet it does not diminish the glare of gold.<</if>><<if $height is 'very tall'>>Quite a bit taller than $dname expected, rivaling $dtheir own height as their eyes meet.<</if>> The prodigal Crown addresses the crowd of soldiers and guards, explaining that the Crescent Blades were hired as escorts, to help the Crown find $rtitle $rname past $dname’s guards. Along the way, $aname doubtlessly became involved, and the spies among the guards were discovered. When $aname points to the one who tried to assassinate the Crown, $dname’s blood runs cold. It’s Nima. $cdthey suspected, but did not have any certainty, that Nima might’ve become involved with the Followers. Among the spies allowed to infiltrate, she was not one of them—or at least, $dname did not think she was. That miscalculation would’ve cost $dthem the Crown, were it not for $aname. A heavy weight bears down on $dtheir shoulders as $dthey kneels beside Nima’s unconscious body, wondering where it went wrong. Why did she choose to become a Follower, knowing the crimes they’ve committed? The people they’ve terrorized, the places they’ve thrown into chaos? There is no answer to be found in Nima’s face, relaxed and at ease in her sleep. When she wakes, it will be in the dungeons. $dname was the one who taught her how to hold a sword, and she turned it upon the one person who can save the empire. The Crown watches $dthem silently, but $dname does not meet the probing gaze. As much as the Crown’s arrival appears to be a boon, it could just as easily turn out to be another curse; the Crown is not infallible, as Piruz proved many times over during his reign. $dname will simply have to keep watch, even if part of $dthem is almost desperate to grasp this chance and repair the damage done ten years ago. As their group departs to find $rtitle $rname shortly after, $dname realizes belatedly that $dthey did not ask for the Crown’s name, and the Crown did not state it either. Later, when $dthey finds out from $rtitle $rname, $dthey tests it on $dtheir tongue, muttering it quietly to $dthemselves in consideration. “$name…” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;A Moment of Comfort@@ $dname looks exhausted. You watch $dthem from across the room, watch the way the sunlight catches $dtheir face and filters down $dtheir lashes, accentuating the dark shadows beneath $dtheir eyes. $cdthey hardly seems to be listening to the military official who is speaking to $dthem about something in low tones, $dtheir gaze drifting off, a subtle but telltale sign of $dtheir fatigue. You move, closing the distance between you with a few purposeful strides. The military official startles at your approach. “Your Imperial Majesty,” they mutter, quickly bowing their head as a greeting but you have already dismissed them from your attention. Your eyes are aimed solely at $dname, who is giving you a questioning look. “Will you join me for a walk?” you ask $dthem, holding out your hand. $cdthey casts a glance toward it, a flicker of realization in $dtheir eyes that smooths the weary lines of $dtheir face into something softer. When $dthey offers you $dtheir arm, your hand fits nicely in the crook of $dtheir elbow. “Whereto?” $dname asks as you lead $dthem out of the room into the corridor, and even further than that. “Away from here,” you reply, shifting your grip a little higher on $dtheir arm, pulling you nearer against $dthem and you enjoy this closeness, the warmth and the presence of having $dthem by your side. “I still have work to do,” $dname remarks, though $dthey does not resist as you pull $dthem into one of the palace’s sitting rooms, laying abandoned and secluded from the everlasting bustle of bureaucracy and governance. You make sure to close the door behind you. “No one will benefit if you work yourself to death,” you reply gently as you pull $dname toward the couch against the far wall of the room, its soft blue fabric matched by silk brocade cushions, finely threaded with golden patterns. “I nearly completed the list you asked me to write up,” $dname says as the two of you sit down, facing the large windows framed by thick, light golden curtains narrowing the sunlight into a single, bright column falling across the embroidered rugs beneath your feet, highlighting particles of dust that drift through the air. “Of the most recent death toll,” you infer, remembering you asked $dname to do so a few days ago. An assessment of plague spreading through the corners of Rojan; the Imperial Army’s scouts were the first to arrive there. Your brows furrow with concern. “So quickly?” $dname nods, rubbing at one of $dtheir eyes with the palm of $dtheir hand as $dthey says, “The numbers are estimations at this point, but–” You reach out and tenderly cup the $dname’s cheek, turning $dtheir face toward you so you can look $dthem in the eyes. “It seems I must ask for your forgiveness.” $dname looks dazed as $dthey stares at you, uncomprehending. “Why? You’ve done no wrong. The situation called for assessment, and you were right to choose the Imperial Army for the task.” “I should have taken the work you’re already burdened with into account,” you murmur, stroking $dtheir cheek with a thumb and $dthey leans into your touch, eyelids lowering. If $dthey were a cat, you suspect $dthey might have started purring. “It was an emergency,” $dname replies quietly, though $dthey lifts $dtheir hand to cover the hand you have on $dtheir cheek with $dtheir own. “There was no one else better suited to handle this. I can always rest later.” “You’re too self-sacrificing, $dname.” You frown at $dthem. “If I told you to work yourself to death, would you do it, purely to save my dignity?” $dname does not hesitate in $dtheir answer: “I would do anything you asked me to.” Your gaze softens as your palm shifts lower to $dname’s jawline, the pad of your thumb traces $dtheir lower lip. $dname’s eyes blink open from $dtheir exhausted stupor, now fixated on your face with a focused intensity that makes you feel bare, but not in an unpleasant way. “Anything?” When you pull away, $dname gives you a confused but curious look—almost disappointed at the loss of your touch—until you shift to the very end of the couch and pat your lap. $dname’s gaze flits to the door. It is still firmly closed, and with the Imperial Guards at your beck and call, they will know to stop anyone should they try to interrupt and see something they shouldn’t. Interjecting between $dname and the official as you did was bold enough; being caught alone in a room pampering the general of your army would send tongues wagging all across the capital and beyond. In the moment, though, you don’t care about that. “Just for a little while,” you insist. “You said you would do anything I asked, remember?” “Within reason,” $dname replies with a frown, one of concern. $cdthey is more careful in things like this, dreading anything that would harm your reputation—but even $dthey has $dtheir limits. Eventually, the tired general lets out a deep breath, giving in to the temptation as $dthey moves to lie down on the couch on $dtheir side, almost cautiously resting $dtheir head atop your lap. $cdthey shifts a bit to try and get comfortable, but it’s difficult with $dtheir armor. “You should’ve taken your chestplate off at least,” you tease, though by now you know very well the reason $dthey’d rather not. “Are you comfortable like this? Do you need a pillow?” $dname grunts in acknowledgment, eyes already sliding shut, the weight of $dtheir head warm against your legs. “You're softer than a pillow.” You chuckle, resting a hand on top of $dtheir short, brown tresses. When $dname doesn’t flinch or squirm, you pet $dtheir hair in slow strokes until $dname begins to fully relax, a soft sigh spilling from $dtheir lips. “Thank you,” $dthey mumbles, reaching up and curling a hand onto your knee, squeezing it gently. As $dname falls to slumber, a well-deserved rest, you whisper a quiet wish as you hold $dthem close, protective and affectionate: “Sleep well, my love.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ Whatever $xname’s planned distractions, whatever $dname’s motivations, whatever $rname’s dilemmas, $aname’s goal in becoming the Royal Protector has always remained clear. $cathey wishes $athey could claim such selflessness and altruism in swearing duty to Arsur and its citizens, but it is not $atheir main reason for doing so. If it were $atheir sole purpose, $athey might have become a mercenary like $xname, a blade for hire. Perhaps even remained in the Imperial Army, to protect others under $dname’s orders. Neither option appealed, however, and neither option would bring $aname closer to finding <em>her</em>. A ghost in $aname’s memories, her face almost faded over the years, yet $aname still chases after her with a stubborn hope that refuses to fade. She would’ve done the same for $aname, after all. As such, the matter of the Crown appearing or not was one far from $aname’s mind. $cathey is a Royal Protector in name only, nothing more than a meaningless substitute. The title allows him to remain close to those in power, however, and those with the means to help $athem on $atheir search. So when $athey finds $athemselves faced with the master $athey thought would never appear, one reduced to a myth over the span of a decade, $athey finds $athemselves at a loss. All $atheir plans, thrown into disarray. Confronted with an unknown variable, a disturbing mirror image symbolizing that aged shadow that was both a father and a tyrant, a protector to his family and an enemy to the citizens— Guilt, however misplaced, shakes $aname awake from $atheir daze. “You claim to be the Crown?” $athey asks, smothering the conflict as $athey takes stock of the situation, trying not to flinch in the face of too-familiar golden eyes from the face of a stranger. A person. Not just the Crown, an obstacle in $aname’s way. A person with a name, a past, loved ones of $their own; $aname should know not to fall into the trap of dehumanizing $them merely because it would suit $aname better. The Crown, who goes by $name, is uncertain. Feeling out $their way like hands blindly grasping for something to hold onto in the dark. Was $aname’s father like this, once? No, he wasn’t. He had everything he could ever need or ask for. Education, wealth, a wise mentor, countless tutors, power even from a young age—privileged, spoiled in comparison to the Crown $aname is faced with now, holding $themselves with the look of someone who has had to claw $their way to mere survival. $name is a distraction to $aname’s original goal, $athey knows that very well, but how can $athey possibly ignore $them? Unlike before, $aname isn’t a child. $cathey holds power of $atheir own, agency, autonomy, the ability to steer the course of the country should $athey want to. More than guilt, $athey is responsible. If history were to repeat, this time, the blood of it would truly be on $aname’s hands. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ $xname first sees a stranger. Sprawled across the dirt, face hidden beneath their hood. It is a curiosity, but nothing more; from the faint aura of their magic, $xname can sense that they hold no ill intent. Emotions tend to be sometimes difficult to distinguish from each other by physical details alone—a pounding heartbeat can mean fear just as easily as it can mean excitement—but magic signatures carry them more clearly. The influence is incredibly subtle, but over the years, $xname has learned how to notice it, almost like a sound hanging in the air. The sound the stranger makes is frail, quiet, restrained. Their magic is rattled, because its owner is rattled; they form no threat. So why run? As $xname approaches the stranger, it belatedly occurs to $xthem that $xthey had multiple corpses surrounding them. That <em>would</em> be enough to rattle a regular person and cause them to flee; $xname may have gotten too used to the sight at this point, so $xthey forgets. Yet, the stranger refuses to even look at $xthem. Their heartbeat picks up as $xname stands in front of them. “What’s wrong?” $xname teases, thinking perhaps a more lighthearted tone will help calm them down. “Don’t tell me you’re shy?” Finally, they raise their head. In the shade of the trees, darkening the shadow from their hood further, $xname cannot quite make out the color of their eyes beyond the fact that they’re light, and wide with a flustered shock. Their $skincolor skin is smudged with dust and dirt, a slight shine of sweat on their complexion—yet their features are not altogether bad to look at. $xname is disappointed when they hide their face again. $cxthey’s had a long day, $xthey feels tired, and what better cure than a pleasing face? Soon, however, $xthey discovers why the stranger did so. It’s difficult to believe $xtheir eyes, even though the gleaming of gold is as clear as daylight. <em>Can’t</em> believe $xtheir eyes, not for something so important. $xname has to make certain. So $xthey kneels down in front of the stranger, engaging a connection with their magic through a touch of skin, a light grip on their chin— There is no more doubt. Not in the face of that raw well of magic, formless and uncertain, hovering between existence and potential. This is the lost Crown, stumbled upon $xname as if carried by the currents of the spirits themselves. Damn them all. $xname considers turning $xtheir back. Considers running, pretending as if $xthey never met them, leaving the Crown to their fate, but that would make $xthem a traitor to Arsur. $cxthey is duty-bound, no, honor-bound to offer $xtheir aid. Then again, that doesn’t mean that $xthey has to be entirely altruistic in doing so, does $xthey? For all $xname knows, this Crown will be no different from Piruz, giving $xthem no reason to trust them—making them an enemy, in fact. At the same time, $xname has no choice but to help when the Crown has done nothing yet, both as a citizen or Arsur as well as pressured to do so by $xtheir conscience. $cxthey can deliver the Crown to $rname well enough, but in exchange, $xthey decides to take the opportunity to settle more personal scores. In the end, getting the Followers of Vidarna out of the Crown’s Imperial Guard will be in to their benefit as well, even though it requires some omission of plans. The Crown might encounter some danger along the way, but that’s a risk $xname will have to take. Besides which, if the Crown ends up killed in the process, would it really matter? If they made it to the throne, either they’d become a Crown like Piruz and $xname would regret not killing them $xthemselves, or they’d become a Crown like Ferzan, in which case… Well, then they’d end up assassinated regardless. The Followers, the nobility, the magi, the wealthy and the influential, they cannot tolerate any threat to their power. What matters is that $xname washes $xtheir hands from this, as soon as possible. It won’t end well for either of them if $xthey lingers. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Coronation Vision@@ Heval asked $xname that morning whether escorting the Crown through the coronation ceremony was a good idea, and $xname brushed them off. Now, as $name asks $xthem to accompany $them through $their communion with the spirits in the Sky Temple, $xname is beginning to think $xthey should’ve taken Heval’s concern more seriously. $cxthey knew it would be difficult because of the memories it would evoke, the guilt that would arise, so it’s not as if $xthey is wholly unprepared. Even as $xthey walks up the steps to stand by $name’s side as $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>claim<<else>>claims<</if>> the throne of Arsur, all that comes to mind is what $xname’s mother would think if she could see $xname now. Would she condemn $xname, call $xthem a traitor, accuse $xthem of turning $xtheir back on their village? Or is that $xname’s own conscience speaking through the image of her, horrified by the thought that $xthey has forgotten what it means to deal with someone as powerful, as unchallenged, as the Crown of Arsur? Forgotten who <em>$xname</em> is? It is a struggle to keep these thoughts from showing on $xname’s face as $xthey stands beside the Crown, watching $them receive the visions from the spirits. The ritual itself is beautiful, filling the Sky Temple with vibrant colors and lights, the sentiments of the spirits embraced in the air with hope and joy. Whatever Ashadūna founded the Empire for, whatever the spirits intend for Arsur to be, it cannot have been expressed in the rule of Crown Piruz. There is no evidence of spilled blood here on these pristine white tiles, no lingering scent of burning flesh, no gaping hole of silence where there were once screams. It is meant to be a celebration. Yet, because of that, it also feels as if $xname is the only one who can see the mountain of corpses that they are all standing on. $xname, most of all. What right does $xthey have to mourn for $xtheir mother, for $xtheir kin, for $xtheir home, when $xtheir sin is still written in the steel of $xtheir pearl dagger, one $xthey absolved out of cowardice? Even the righteous anger $xthey once possessed has long been extinguished. <em>Liar,</em> the Earth says, and $xthey deserves it. <em>Murderer. You killed him.</em> $xname did, and $xthey can never take it back. <em>You killed him,</em> the Earth echoes. <em>You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. You—</em> A hand squeezes tightly around $xtheirs. “Enough!” Unexpected, quiet but firm, burning with gold in $name’s eyes as $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>hold<<else>>holds<</if>> $xname’s hand through it. “That’s enough.” In the moment, what breaks through the horrible downpour of guilt is $name’s kindness. It guides them both back out of the vision, though as the scenery fades from $xname’s eyes, $xthey comes to a realization that weighs heavier than anything else. Whether it’s selfish or not, undeserved or not, it doesn’t matter. All $xname wants is forgiveness. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Mandatory Bedrest@@ From the corner of your eyes, you notice $aname swaying a bit where $athey stands in front of the windows of your chambers, rubbing at $atheir forehead. You put your book aside on the low table where you’d been reading, brows furrowing with worry. “$aname, are you alright?” $aname hums, squinting against the sunlight. “I don’t feel so good.” The two of you just had lunch together, enjoying a rare quiet afternoon amidst the daily routine of governing an entire country. As tired as you are, $aname has been with you every step of the way. You share in your exhaustion, but the difference is that you could entrust your safety to $athem. Conversely, $aname has had to keep constant watch for weeks on end. “Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” $athey mumbles. “Perhaps I’ve been standing in the sun for too long.” You get up from your pillow and walk over to $aname, noticing a thin sheen of sweat glistening on $atheir face. When $athey turns $atheir head to look at you, you lift the back of your hand and press it against $atheir forehead. $aname almost flinches back, surprised, but keeps standing in place. “$name?” $catheir skin is burning. It feels like a fever. “You shouldn’t do that, you’ll get my sweat all over you,” $aname warns, reaching up to push your wrist away, and you sigh as you drop your hand. “<em>That’s</em> your concern?” You notice an almost glazed over look in $atheir eyes. “I think you’re getting ill, $aname. When was the last time you took a break, or slept?” $aname opens, then closes $atheir mouth. You frown. “Don’t tell me it’s been that long.” “I’ve been taking revitalizing tonics,” $aname starts to explain, and you don’t want to hear it. “I’m not questioning whether you’ve been doing your job.” You take $atheir hands in your own. “I’m worried about you. You need rest, before it gets any worse.” “It’s not that bad yet,” $aname mutters, though $athey seems too tired and overheated to protest as you pull $athem towards your bed. It takes $athem a moment to realize it, $atheir eyes widening. “$name, you don’t mean—” “It’s the most luxurious bed in the palace.” You give $athem a questioning look. “Unless… you’d rather stay somewhere else, if that makes you feel more at ease?” $aname seems to hesitate, glancing from your bed back to you, and you smile reassuringly, squeezing $atheir hands. “I only want you to be comfortable, $aname.” $cathey seems to think on it a moment, $atheir eyes meeting yours and $atheir gaze softening with fondness. “Alright. But could I take a bath, first?” “Of course.” You let go of $atheir hands. “I’ll go call for a physician. Do you…” Your gaze falls on $aname’s armor. “Do you need help with that?” The warm, comfortable air between you seems to tense a little, but it’s not a bad tension. $aname huffs a soft laugh, giving you a smirk that makes your own body start to radiate with heat. “Tempting, but I can handle it. We wouldn’t want the physician to walk in on anything untoward.” $cathey raises $atheir brows a little, teasing. “Unless you’re in the mood for scandal?” “$aname…” You hide your smile behind your hand, shaking your head. $cathey’s incorrigible. “Might I remind you that you have a fever?” “Hmm.” $aname looks amused. “Perhaps that’s why I feel so worked up.” “I’m leaving!” $aname’s laughter follows you out the door. As you leave your chambers, you instruct a few of the servants out in the hallway to fetch you a few items to help take care of $aname while $athey recovers, setting out to find the physician on your own; it’s better to be discreet about your Royal Protector having fallen ill. Once you return with one of the royal physicians in tow, you find $aname lying on $atheir back atop the sheets of your bed, $atheir eyes closed and $atheir breaths seeming heavier. $cathey has swapped $atheir armor for a more comfortable, plain blue robe, as well as a few new bottles of liquid on the nightstand that the servants must've brought. “$aname,” you call gently, watching $atheir eyes peel open. “How are you feeling?” $aname glances at the physician by your side, then breathes out a deep sigh. “Bathing somehow made me feel worse, but at least I’m clean.” “May I approach, Royal Protector?” the physician asks, and $aname nods. They sit down by $aname’s side, rolling up one of their sleeves. “May I examine your body’s magic channels?” “Go ahead,” $aname mumbles, closing $atheir eyes again. You watch with both curiosity and concern as the physician places several fingertips along the side of $aname’s throat, then pulls up $aname’s sleeve to touch the inner side of $atheir elbow, then lower to the inner side of $atheir wrist. Each touch only lasts a few seconds. “There are no irregularities within your magic,” the physician concludes. “I do not believe this is caused by an illness. However, your body suffers from tension and exhaustion, which has weakened its constitution.” “So what you’re saying is that $aname overworked $athemselves,” you say dryly, $aname draping an arm over $atheir eyes. “It is a likely explanation.” The physician rises again. “I would recommend a week’s rest. You do not need to stay in bed once the fever passes, but you should find some time to spend doing things you enjoy and spend time with loved ones. It should help lower the tension in your body.” “Thank you, healer.” As they bow to you both and leave the room, you take their place beside $aname, who is pointedly not looking at you, still hiding $atheir eyes beneath an arm. You prod $athem in the side. “$aname, did you hear all that?” The response is a chagrin one. “Yes.” $cathey doesn’t seem inclined to talk, likely unhappy with the physician’s advice, so you turn your attention to the items the servants brought. Some of the bottles, funnily enough, turn out to be scented massage oil. “Am I smelling jasmine?” $aname mumbles, lowering $atheir arm to look at the bottle you’re holding, and you chuckle. “I think the servants may have misunderstood when I asked them to bring me something to help take care of you.” “I wouldn’t say no to a massage,” $aname says, then pauses. “Maybe later. I don’t think I can roll over at the moment.” “That bad?” $cathey sighs. “No, I’m being dramatic. I really don't need a week to recover, a few days should be fine.” You narrow your eyes at $athem. “Are you going to follow the healer’s recommendation and relax, or do I need to strap you to a chair and force you to read a book?” $aname laughs. “That won’t be necessary, though I know a much better way of regulating my stress levels.” “Oh?” $cathey spreads $atheir arms to you in invitation, and you smile as you put the bottle aside and join $athem on the bed, resting your head against $atheir shoulder and wrapping an arm around $athem as $athey embraces you in return. You feel the sound of $atheir contented humming against your cheek, and $athey says, “This is much better than a massage.” “You might overheat.” “It'll be worth it.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Assassination Attempt@@ Two guards lie dead on the ground in front of Kartan’s Outpost. “Your Imperial Majesty!” you hear the Imperial Guards at your back call out as you rush ahead, hearing the familiar sound of lightning singing from within. Your magic flares with heat at your fingertips as you burst through the door. “$rname!” You spot $rthem near the back of the room, hand flared open with fingers bent like claws from which tendrils of energy hold a masked attacker captive on their knees before $rthem. The attacker wheezes in pain, body pulled taut from the lightning wrapped around them. They appear the only one still conscious—around $rname’s feet there are half a dozen others, passed out. But there is one attacker on lying the floor behind $rname also awake, now pushing themselves up to their feet, a dagger glinting in their hand— In the same moment $rname turns $rtheir head towards you, surprise and relief on $rtheir face, you react on impulse. Grabbing a spear from a weapon rack beside the door, the muscles in your arm, shoulder and back tense as you aim and throw in a single, fluid motion. Your heart pounds in your throat, praying your aim holds true. The spear sails through the air just as the assassin prepares to lunge, finding its mark in the assassin’s side, impaling through leather and cloth. The assassin gasps from the force as they’re slammed against the wall, collapsing to the floor as $rname spins around to look at them, startled. Behind you, the Imperial Guards pour through the door, heading straight for the would-be assassins. $rname releases $rtheir hold on the one still alive, the attacker slumping over onto the floor to join the others as $rthey turns to you. “$name, you shouldn’t have rushed in like that! It could’ve been dangerous—” You’re already moving forward as $rthey speaks, ignoring $rtheir words as you <<if $height isnot 'short' and $height isnot 'very short'>>sweep $rthem into an embrace. $rname falls silent. $crtheir arms wrap around your <<if $height is 'very tall'>>waist<<else>>shoulders<</if>> immediately, concern momentarily forgotten as you feel $rthem exhale a deep breath against your <<if $height is 'very tall'>>shoulder<<else>>neck<</if>>.<<else>>wrap your arms around $rtheir waist and pull $rthem into an embrace. $rname falls silent. $crtheir arms wrap around your shoulders immediately, concern momentarily forgotten as you feel $rthem bend $rtheir head down, exhaling a deep breath that brushes against the shell of your ear.<</if>> From over $rtheir shoulder, you watch an Imperial Guard slit the throat of the assassin that you impaled who hadn’t quite died yet, an act of mercy. You grip $rname even tighter, not wanting to think of what could’ve happened if you’d been even a moment too late. “I’m alright, $name,” $rname murmurs, $rtheir hands radiating heat through the back of your clothes, lingering from $rtheir spell. “You almost weren’t,” you reply, pulling back just enough to look $rthem in the eyes, not wanting to release $rthem just yet. “You need to be more careful, $rname. I know what a powerful magus you are, but you’re not infallible; all it would take is one mistake, one moment of inattention…” $rname cups your cheek, thumb caressing it soothingly. “I’m <em>alright</em>, $name. I’m safe.” You only then notice how tight you’re holding $rthem, your fingers trembling, and you quickly relax your hold. “I’m sorry, it’s only… I was scared for you.” “I know.” $rname sighs softly, averting $rtheir gaze to the assassins that are being dragged outside by the Imperial Guards one by one. “You’re right, I should’ve taken more guards with me. I thought it would be fine for a short trip, but I was careless.” Even after all these years, $rname has never quite gotten comfortable with needing to be surrounded with guards on all sides, at all times. You know that $rthey misses $rtheir independence from when you were younger, when $rthey wasn’t a true threat without a Crown and could take long walks like this whenever $rthey wanted with only a few guards unobtrusively present. But things have changed for you both. You understand $rtheir desire more than anyone, remembering the time before you became a Crown. Life was hard, and you were on the run, but you could breathe freely, roam freely together with your parents and then alone, too, for a while. You won’t ever experience that feeling again. It’s the price you pay for safety, and one you’d pay a hundred times over to keep $rname safe. You unwind your arms from around $rname, instead taking $rtheir hand in yours. “Come, let’s step outside.” Staring at $rname’s attackers won’t help either of you feel better. You lead $rname out the back door of the outpost, shadowed by several Imperial Guards who are tactful enough to remain invisible. The both of you stay silent for a while as you look out over the forest, so serene compared to the grisly scene inside, which is your doing. It isn’t the first time you’ve had to kill someone with your own hands—ten years as the Crown has taught you much—and it won’t be the last, but you’ll never truly grow accustomed to it. “At least my aim was good,” you mumble to yourself, and after a short pause, $rname bursts into laughter beside you. It isn’t one of humor, not truly; $rtheir laughter makes you laugh in turn, the both of you bleeding out the tension you’ve been holding. As it tapers off, it leaves you breathless, and exhausted. Once you return to the palace, you’ll both have to investigate the attack and figure out the hows and the whys of it. Until then, though, you still have this moment together, and you intend to enjoy it. “Do you want to take a walk?” you ask $rname, who smiles warmly at you. “I know a place by the river where the flowers bloom beautifully this time of year.” “I’d love to,” $rname says, squeezing your hand with a playful look in $rtheir eyes, “my brave hero.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you lead $rthem towards the river. “I hardly deserve that title.” “Would savior suit you better?” “Laying it on a bit thick there, $rname,” you say, though you still grin at $rthem despite yourself. “Well, you did save my life,” $rname replies, teasing. “Out of love for you, not to be praised.” You look ahead to the blue of the river appearing between the trees up ahead. “So call me what you usually do.” Your hands shift the grip between them, your fingers twining between each other, palm to palm. “As you wish, beloved.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Coronation Vision@@ It took a lifetime to get here, yet the planning for it only took days. $rname hasn't slept more than an hour a night since the Crown arrived, working around the clock to make the necessary arrangements, staying awake only with the help of alchemical tonics which will doubtlessly make $rthem crash later. Seeing the results of $rtheir efforts now, however, $rname can safely say that it was worth it. Both household servants as well as government officials matched $rname's work with equal amounts of dedication, in some ways with even more difficult tasks than $rname had to deal with. Everyone involved knows what's at stake. Ten years without a Crown, the coronation must be flawless, even as hurried and limited in scope as it is. Traditionally, a coronation would last for ten whole days, with festivities in the city throughout, but they cannot wait that long. $name needs the legitimacy bestowed upon $them after the ceremony more than $they need<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> a celebratory feast. An unblessed Crown is a powerless one. Still, $rname allows $rthemselves to enjoy the fruits of $rtheir labor as the coronation ceremony begins. $crthey is by $name's side, for the first time in years being able to stand tall and proud, able to <em>breathe</em>. $crthey knows there is a long road ahead of both of them yet, but it's important to at least enjoy these victories in between. When the visions start, however, $rname realizes that as relieving as the ceremony is for $rthem, it is an entirely new burden upon $name. $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> being tested with every new Promise that graces $their lips, and none hit as hard or as sharp as the one given by Arsur’s Earth. It is an impulse to join $them, one born from concern when $rname sees the pain in $name’s eyes. $rname understands why when the vision blankets $rtheir vision as well; there stands a person who looks far too similar to $name to be a stranger, one of $their parents. The grief in $name’s gaze is achingly alive, and all $rname can offer $them is some comfort in the grip of $rtheir hand, warm around $name’s. When the Earth tries to test $rname next, $rthey knows to expect it, and knows not to falter. The weight that $rthey kept all this time has lifted off $rtheir shoulders, $rtheir conscience finally clear, $rtheir spirit at rest—and now, $rthey can be strong. For $name’s sake. <em>Sorcerer</em>, the Earth speaks. <em>A home lost to the storms. She left you behind. What if you fail her? What if—</em> “She didn’t think I would fail her; she had faith in me.” $crthey looks at $name, meeting $their eyes with a reassuring smile. “I hope I make her proud.” <em>I hope I make <b>my Crown</b> proud</em>. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Coronation Vision@@ The scar on the back of $dtheir neck throbs. As $dname stands in the Sky Temple, atop the raised platform where $name begins the ceremony that will mark $them as Crown both in name and spirit, $dthey feels the tightness along the back of $dtheir neck. It is not quite an ache, but a discomfort all the same. The ghost of a blade kissing the skin, still felt years later. $cdthey should have expected it to act up. It always does, in places with high concentrations of magic. As $name enters $their first vision, $dname feels it inflamed. Not only on the scar, but beneath $dtheir armor, crawling restlessly, an energy wishing to be released. The sigils on the inside of $dtheir silver plate, however, keeps it contained. It’s a constant reminder of failure, but this moment is not one for $dthem to lament the past. If anything, $dthey should feel happy, seeing a new Crown ascend the throne where $dname was part of the reason for the previous Crown’s demise. But the road ahead of them is a long one. If $dname is to remain the General— <em>If</em>. As Arsur’s Sky blesses $name, followed by Arsur’s Waters, there is a very distinct possibility that $dname may not remain a general for much longer. It wouldn’t be unusual for a new Crown to appoint new people at the start of their reign, and part of $dname almost expects it. Perhaps this is all $dthey deserves, the only measure of redemption $dthey will ever be able to taste. A small sliver, before falling through the gaps of history, forgotten as nothing more than the child of a disgraced former General. As $name enters $their third vision, $dname takes a deep, quiet breath. Come what may, $dthey will accept it. Beside $dthem, $name suddenly gasps. $dname doesn’t think, merely reacts—$dtheir hand finds $name’s as if a reflex, unsettled by a threat that $dthey cannot see. The realm of spirits always has a way of leaving $dname feeling unmoored, but protecting $name is as much $dtheir duty as protecting Arsur. When Earth’s vision is shared with $dthem, and when $dthey sees the memory of one of $name’s parents reflected within it, $dname finds $dthemselves overcome with both shame and guilt. Feeling the tremor in $name’s hand, gripping $dname’s back so tightly— $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> not merely the Crown. Not merely $dname’s chance for redemption. $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> a person, in pain. $dname has <em>seen</em> $them in pain before, at the abandoned Water Temple. $name carries it in $their chest, takes it with $them wherever $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>go<<else>>goes<</if>>. Disgraced or not, $dname’s mother is alive, both $dtheir parents are. $cdtheir mother did not ask $dthem to take on this burden, $dthey chose it for $dthemselves. $name came to Marabad alone, given a choice between the throne or certain death—no choice at all. This moment isn’t one of celebration for $them, but one of survival. Yet until this moment, all $dname could think of was $dthemselves. <em>General</em>, the Earth speaks to $dname then, rumbling in the ground beneath their feet. <em>Honor sacrificed. For you, because of you. Disgraced. Disgraced. Disgra—</em> “I know.” And $name deserves to know, as well. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Coronation Vision@@ $aname still remembers the story of $atheir father’s coronation. $catheir mother, Zhaleh, described it to $athem once, and only once. She told $aname about how it felt to stand atop the platform in the Sky Temple—the one in Zeratun, rather than Marabad—and watch $atheir father go through the ritual. The same way $aname watches $name go through the same ritual, the same steps, like a prophecy repeated. It’s painful. $aname cannot describe it as anything else. It is the moment that decided everything, or it seems that way in hindsight. $catheir parents were so young back then, still so unburdened, <em>hopeful</em>. They were all hopeful, Zhaleh told $athem, in spite of the melancholy that lingered in the wake of Crown Keybanû’s funeral. $catheir father mourned her passing deeply, that much $aname’s mother could tell back then. Everyone did in some way, but Piruz himself had lost his mentor, someone he respected deeply, and the fear of not being able to live up to the example she set weighed on him. They hadn’t always gotten along, but despite a strained relationship, Piruz had truly loved her. When the Fire of Arsur touched Piruz’ mouth in the form of its crystal and showed him its vision, Piruz looked devastated. Heartbroken, <em>ill</em>, as if he would collapse on the spot. “He said that he saw her,” Zhaleh told $aname, a somber expression on her face. “Crown Keybanû. He saw her in the vision, and she told him: <em>you are not worthy</em>.” It seemed an awful thing to say at the time, but now, as $aname watches $name let the Earth’s crystal touch $their chest, $athey wonders if any of $name's visions will be the same. If they will be prophetic, or perhaps, self-fulfilling? Being compared to Crown Keybanû, her name uttered in the same breath as those of Ardashir and even Ashadūna herself, took a toll on Piruz. One that might have even lead him to spiral out of control as he did. The question of why Crown Keybanû would say such a thing is one that will always go unanswered; if $aname’s father truly was unworthy, why did the spirits approve of him? Unless that was Keybanû herself, and not the will of the spirits. A last parting word, a warning, a challenge, perhaps even a prediction. It makes $aname wonder, when $athey joins $name’s vision of the Earth in concern, if the person staring back at them is truly $name’s parent, and not merely a vision. Would the spirits be capable of that? Would they be that cruel? <em>Protector</em>, the Earth speaks, rumbling in the ground beneath their feet. <em>Blood of gold, still looking for her.</em> $aname tenses—this isn’t how $athey wants $name to find out. Not here, not now. Not about $atheir father, and not about Axîn. <em>Where is she? Where is she? Where is—</em> “You’ve made your point!” $aname snaps, grip tightening on $name’s hand as $athey glares at the ground. “Let us go.” It’s as if the spirits are toying with them. Playing games, throwing their pain and fear into their face, for what? To see a man break under its weight, destroying his family and his country both? $aname takes a deep breath. That isn’t fair, $athey knows. $catheir father made his own decisions, the spirits cannot be blamed for the wrongs he did. But if he hadn’t been the Crown, their family would’ve been happy. Safe, all still together. $cathey doesn’t want to see it happen again. It’s the only thought that goes through $atheir head when $athey and $name are pulled back out of the vision, and $aname watches them wipe the crystal dust from $their clothes with trembling fingers. $cathey hopes $name will be able to bear the burden where $atheir father couldn’t, but $athey knows more than anyone how difficult it will be. $cathey doesn’t want to relive the same mistakes. $cathey doesn’t want to let go of $their hand. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ Lately, Perjin has noticed that a few of her books keep going missing. For a while, she assumed she had simply misplaced them. With so much business to take care of, having newly opened her alchemist shop, it’s no wonder she would lose track of some of her belongings. However, after the third time it happens within the span of a week, she notices a pattern. Only the books she leaves lying around in her shop have gone missing, and only the ones teaching advanced elemental magic. The only conclusion she can draw is that someone is stealing the books. Admittedly, she’s a bit baffled by this. While the books contain valuable knowledge that would fetch a decent price on the market, they are also very common books for magi to own. Compared to some of the other things in her shop—the gemstones, most of all—they are much cheaper. But perhaps they were the easier target. Perjin has all the ingredients and items that are for sale protected with powerful warding magic; an ordinary thief wouldn’t be able to get their hands on it. Her books, though… she reads those to keep her skills sharp for personal use. It hadn’t occurred to her that someone might want to steal them. Perhaps it’s time to set a trap. Perjin picks a book as bait, one specializing in earth magic, and leaves it on the counter-top near the end of the day. She wards the area around it with a simple spell, binding it to a gemstone that will flash with light once the ward has been crossed, then heads outside. She makes a show of leaving, putting the lantern out and draping a ribbon across the entrance to indicate the shop being closed. Then, she heads off. Rather than truly leave, she ducks into an alleyway, and activates another gemstone that was warded with a spell that makes anything that touches it invisible, including her. And she waits. It doesn’t take very long at all until her first gemstone starts flashing in warning. She’s actually surprised; whoever is stealing those books must have been waiting for her to leave. Hurrying back to the shop, she halts in the middle of the street and can hardly believe her eyes when she sees the thief ducking back out onto the street, book clasped to their chest. It’s a child. A very young child, no taller than Perjin’s waist. They’re dressed in rags, fingers covered in dirt as they quickly make their escape. Perjin silently follows them, wondering where they’re taking the book. Eventually, the child leads her into a small, abandoned house in the poorer parts of the district. Its roof is caved in, some of the walls crumbling from disuse, but it is better than no shelter at all. Its doorway is covered by a thin dirtied sheet, and little else. The child quickly darts inside, and Perjin quietly follows. There is little furniture. Some cushions and sheets that function as a bed, a table, and a makeshift fireplace—the other three stolen books sit on top of the table. Perjin watches as the child sits in front of the small pile of wood, brows arching when they flick their wrist, sparks jumping from their fingers onto the wood. They wave their hand, and a bright, warm fire comes to life. The child doesn’t even look at the fireplace as they light it, displaying perfect and precise control effortlessly, almost <em>mindlessly</em>, instead opening up the book with their other hand. How remarkable. Unfortunately, it is at that moment that Perjin’s cloaking spell runs out of magic, the gemstone that powers it drained empty. The child sees her appear from the corner of their eyes and shrieks in surprise, dropping the book and jumping up to their feet. Perjin regrets she was not more careful; she didn’t intend to scare them, but there’s no helping it now. She quickly raises her hands, her heart aching for the poor thing. “Don’t be afraid, I don’t mean you any harm.” The child eyes her warily as she lowers herself to their eye-level, hoping it will make her look less threatening. “I noticed my books were going missing,” she says, speaking kindly, but the child still looks startled. “It’s alright, I’m not angry. I only wanted to know who was taking them.” The child looks away, guilt crossing their features. After a moment, they say softly, “I’m sorry.” Perjin looks at the small bonfire, then smiles at the child. “My name is Perjin. You may address me as she. What about you?” The child looks hesitant, but then replies, “I’m $rname. I go by $rthey.” “A pleasure to meet you, $rname.” Perjin glances at the books. “You’re very good at magic.” “I know,” $rname says, very matter-of-fact, causing Perjin to smile. “I’ve been trying to teach the others, but they say it’s too difficult.” “The others?” “The other children.” Perjin furrows her brows; more orphans. Everyone knows they exist, but in poor districts the communities are stretched so thin that they can’t take care of every child. Some end up slipping through the cracks. She changes the subject. “Were you reading those books to learn more?” $rname averts $rtheir eyes, suddenly seeming very shy, and nods. “Who taught you how to read?” “The old cartographer,” $rname says, frowning at the floor. “I used to go to his shop to look at his maps. But he… he passed away, and the new owner doesn’t like me being there. She said I’ll chase customers away.” What a horrible person. “I’m very sorry to hear that.” This poor child truly seems all alone in this world—although something $rthey said about the old cartographer rings a bell. “You shouldn’t have been treated that way. About the old cartographer, was his name Essam, by any chance?” “Yes.” $rname gives her a curious look. “Did you know him?” “No, but I know his younger brother, Faraj.” An idea begins to form in Perjin’s mind. She and Faraj are acquaintances, but she knows from casual conversation that he’s always had a soft spot for children, much like Essam did. Perjin doesn’t have the time or experience to raise children, but Faraj already has two of his own, and he wouldn’t turn $rname away knowing that $rname used to have a bond with his brother. Moreover, Perjin would offer whatever support she can give. Financially, she’s not entirely stable, but better off than many others in the city. Despite being a graduated magus, she doesn’t run in the same social circles as most others; she only got in to the School of Marabad because several healers she knew from a community clinic vouched for her. They themselves aren’t exactly influential. Many wealthier peers tend to look down on her, and the healers who recommended her. Opening her shop was a difficult endeavor. Still, even with her limited resources, she can still teach $rname more magic, or watch over $rthem whenever Faraj can’t. Perhaps even try to recommend $rthem to Marabad's school herself. She couldn’t possibly turn this child away, or wash her hands off $rthem, even if $rname does find a home with Faraj. Mind made up, she rises to her feet, extending a hand to $rname. “Why don’t you come back to my shop? You can read all your books there. If you’re hungry, I can make you a meal, and you can take a bath if you’d like.” $rname’s widen in surprise, a hopeful look flashing in $rtheir eyes before it is dimmed by wariness. “I don’t know…” Someone must have tried to trick $rthem before. Perjin can’t even imagine what a difficult life $rthey must have lead. “Tell you what,” she says, “how about you conjure a flame, to keep yourself safe?” $rname blinks at her. “Can I?” “Of course.” Perjin smiles reassuringly. “You’re right not to trust me. If it makes you feel safer, keep a flame in your hands. If you think I’ll hurt you, you can throw it at me and run away.” After a long moment of thought, finally, $rname nods. $rthey cups $rtheir hands and dips $rthem into the fire, taking the flames from it. $crtheir control over magic is truly astonishing at such a young age; Perjin suspects $rthey could truly do some damage with that flame, is $rthey truly wished. Perjin picks up the books, smiling down at $rname. “Shall we?” $rname nods, then quietly follows her out of the house back towards her shop, holding a flame in $rtheir hands the way there. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;$cxtheir Pretty Neck@@ It’s the middle of the night when you’re startled awake by a noise beside you. You blearily blink your eyes open as you hear a low moan, an arm lashing out and elbowing you in the side. Wincing, you shift away from the thrashing limbs, sitting up. Next to you, $xname is still fast asleep, but not in a peaceful way. $cxtheir eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed like $xthey’s in pain. $cxthey twists and turns, whimpering and groaning in $xtheir sleep, as if struggling or trying to get away from something. More than that, $xtheir whole body is radiating heat. Even without touching it, you can feel it; $xtheir magic is reacting instinctively, trying to protect $xthem from whatever it is $xthey’s seeing. “$xname,” you call, softly at first, then louder when $xthey doesn’t respond. “$xname, wake up!” It’s not enough to rouse $xthem. Hesitant, but seeing no other way, you channel your magic to your hands and grab $xtheir wrists to keep $xthem from flailing. “No!” $xname turns $xtheir head away, trying to break out of your grip. “Let me go, I have to go save them, I have to—” Oh, $xname. “It’s alright,” you say softly, speaking in a soothing tone and letting your magic brush against $xtheir skin, hoping it will break through. “Wake up, my love, it’s just a nightmare.” Slowly, $xname’s thrashing stops, $xtheir wrists going limp in your grip. You release them as $xname comes to, eyes slowly sliding open, still breathing heavily. You think you see $xtheir cheeks glisten in the moonlight. Feeling your heart ache for $xthem, you cup $xtheir face with your palm, causing $xname’s gaze to shift to you. “$name, what…” You wipe off the remainder of $xtheir tears, caressing $xtheir cheek with a thumb. “You were having a nightmare.” $xname exhales a deep breath, closing $xtheir eyes as $xthey places $xtheir palm on top of your hand. “Yes, I… remember.” $cxthey doesn’t tell you what $xthey saw, and you don’t ask. You have a good idea of what it was, and know that talking about it won’t bring $xthem any relief. Only more pain. Besides, this far from the first time that either of you had a nightmare, though these days, it's rare for $xname to have that particular one. “What do you need?” you ask, wanting to make $xname feel better. “Some water, maybe? Another pillow?” $xname smiles, opening $xtheir eyes to look at you again. $cxtheir gaze is soft with fondness, taking the hand you have on $xtheir cheek and kissing your palm. “Having you here is enough,” $xthey whispers, the shadow of $xtheir nightmare gradually fading from $xtheir face. “Could you distract me for a bit?” You lie down, and $xthey rolls over so the two of you face each other. It reminds you of— “Do you recall the night of my coronation?” you ask, and $xname brings your hand to $xtheir lips once more, this time kissing your knuckles. “I could never forget it,” $xthey says, twining $xtheir fingers with yours. “Though it feels so long ago, now.” “It <em>has</em> been a few years.” You shift a little closer to $xthem, lifting your other hand to place it on $xname’s hip. “But I was reminded of… when we were in the sitting room together after the banquet. Yekbûn had just told me about my parents and I was distraught.” $xname hums. “I remember. We laid down on the pillows together, and you… touched my neck.” You smile at the memory. “Were you surprised?” $cxthey breathes out a soft laugh. “I do also remember inviting you to touch me <em>wherever</em> you wanted… so, yes, I didn’t expect you to choose my neck.” “In my defense,” you say, lifting your hand from $xtheir hip to the side of $xtheir neck, “you have a very pretty neck.” A faint smirk plays on $xname’s lips. “Do I?” You trace a light bruise dotting the skin right above $xname’s collarbone. “I think I made my appreciation very clear a few hours ago, didn’t I?” “I could always use a reminder,” $xname says, a familiar heat in $xtheir eyes, though it dims after a moment of hesitation. “But… maybe in the morning. I shouldn’t keep you awake this late at night.” “Or yourself, for that matter.” You give $xname a searching look. “Will you be able to fall back asleep?” $xname shifts, wrapping an arm around you and bending $xtheir head down to nuzzle against your neck. “How could I not with you holding me, my darling?” You smile against $xtheir hair, sliding an arm around $xtheir back as well. $xname sighs contently. “Good night, $name.” “Sweet dreams, $xname.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ “Lieutenant, we’re needed in the merchant’s quarters!” $aname yanks $atheir dagger from rotting flesh, the ghoul’s spine half severed as it lays writhing and gurgling in the dirt. It’s always a terrible sight; ghouls can’t be killed by normal means, only incapacitated until a priest can put its spirit to rest. There is no time to dwell on it, however. $aname turns to look up at the sky, Şevan’s sun burning across the rocky plains of the city the Imperial Army is here to save before it is overrun. In the distance, contrasting the clear blue sky, red flames form a signal in the air. They burn in the shape of wings, a call for support from the group who were tasked to clear out an adjacent city district. $aname turns to $atheir own soldiers, splitting them in half: “The ten of you, follow me. The rest of you, remain here to keep this area secured and wait for General $dname to arrive with the priests.” If nothing else, the city’s architecture has thankfully not suffered despite the invasion of ghouls. As much as they’ve terrorized the local population, they are still spirits possessing mere human corpses; the damage they can do in the short-term to the city’s walls is limited. So long as their numbers don’t continue to grow, at least. Shamkur, while it isn’t situated in the Silent Desert like the rest of Şevan, still experiences desert-like climates. Being an ancient city built during the times of Hathurian monarchy, it looks distinct from most other cities in Arsur. It lives on flat but arid rocky terrain in very high temperatures; $aname has to regularly wipe the sweat from $atheir brow after fighting. The walls of its streets are very high and narrow, protecting against desert winds, built with clay and mud brick rather than stone. It contains many elegant domes and wind towers, drawing cooler airs into the heart of the city to ventilate its many basements and courtyards. Even compared to Marabad, which also makes use of many walls, Shamkur is far more compact and centralized. Marabad’s walls are for fortification and aesthetic, while Shamkur’s make living in such a hot climate possible. Unfortunately, as beautiful as it is, Shamkur’s architecture makes fighting these ghouls out in the open very difficult, aside from a few of the public squares. There are walls <em>everywhere</em>; fighting at long range is hampered, unless the soldiers scale the upper floors of the buildings. $aname keeps $atheir eyes open as $athey leads $atheir soldiers toward the location of the fire signal, and soon $athey hears the sound of fighting echoing through the narrow streets. Unlike what $athey expects to see, however, most of the people fighting don’t belong to the Imperial Army at all. They wear black robes and dark gray armor, detailed with telltale red. The Crescent Blades are here? “Assist them, quickly!” $aname orders $atheir soldiers as $athey takes stock of the situation. Among the small crowd of ghouls, $aname quickly counts no more than seven mercenaries and three imperial soldiers, but it’s the mercenary at the center of the crowd that draws $aname’s attention. Wielding a bone white shamshir, taunting the ghouls with a careless smile, waves of deep black hair and a pair of vivid green eyes noticeable even from a distance. There’s no mistaking it. “Come now, at least make this challenging!” $xname mocks, easily ducking a swipe from a ghoul and throwing it over $xtheir shoulder, right into another ghoul behind $xthem that had been about to lunge. It creates enough space for $xname to maneuver, though briefly. $cxthey makes the most of it, getting low to the ground, the edge of $xtheir shamshir heating with flame and cutting through several pairs of ankles like a knife through butter. Within a matter of seconds, $xthey’s already taken out half a dozen ghouls. When $xthey straightens again, $xthey even looks bored; by the time $aname’s soldiers begin to assist, the crowd has already thinned to negligible numbers. From across the street, $xname’s gaze lands on $aname, seeming to ignore $aname’s soldiers and the rest of the ghouls. $cxthey tilts $xtheir head subtly, an assessing look in $xtheir eyes. Seeing that everyone has the situation in hand, $aname takes that as an opportunity to approach. From what $athey’s heard of the Pale Sword’s exploits, $xthey isn’t an average sellsword. $cxthey has gone out of $xtheir way to be a thorn in the side of nobility, and to assist ordinary people in need. Is that why the Crescent Blades are here as well? The Pale Sword’s reputation as a warrior certainly hasn’t been exaggerated. $xname glances at the white streaks of facepaint on $aname’s cheeks as $aname approaches, denoting $atheir rank as lieutenant. “These soldiers are yours, I suppose?” $xname comments nonchalantly, glancing over $xtheir shoulder to the soldiers incapacitating the few stragglers left. “$aname Mirza, silver lieutenant,” $aname introduces out of habit. $xname hums. “You seem young for a silver lieutenant.” $aname narrows $atheir eyes at that. Usually, when someone makes a comment like that, it’s an underhanded compliment. Especially with $xname’s reputation, $aname feels more sensitive to it than usual. “It’ll be commander, after Shamkur has been secured.” “Well, well, aren’t you ambitious,” $xname says, smirking with amusement, and $aname can’t tell if $xthey’s being derisive or not. “I’d introduce myself, but I’m sure you already know who I am.” Whatever $xname’s intent, $aname feels the urge to establish $athemselves as an equal—or, at least, undermine $xname’s composure to level the playing field. “Indeed,” $aname says after a pause, then points out: “You have ghoul pus on your tunic.” The tactic works even better than expected. “What?” $xname startles, looking down at the purplish smear on $xtheir robes, recoiling when $xthey sees it. “Oh no, no no no! Disgusting!” $aname watches with no small amount of bemusement as $xname rips the straps of $xtheir leather armor pieces off $xtheir chest and then tears $xtheir tunic off $xtheir head, throwing it to the ground. “Did you really just remove your armor over that?” $aname remarks faintly, though $atheir eyes dip down $xname’s chest before $athey realizes what $athey’s doing. Glancing over <<if $xgender is 'male'>>the thick dark hair that trails from $xtheir chest to $xtheir stomach and past $xtheir bellybutton<<else>>the white fabric wrapped around $xtheir breasts and down $xtheir exposed abs, noticing a thin trail of dark hair down $xtheir bellybutton<</if>>—until $xname notices. “You’re welcome for the view,” $xthey says, seeming to momentarily forget $xtheir disgust as $xthey puts a hand on $xtheir hip. $aname quickly averts $atheir eyes, scoffing. “What view? That of a mercenary squealing like a child over some pus?” To $atheir amazement, $xname bends down and picks up $xtheir leather armor, reattaching the pieces <em>without</em> $xtheir tunic. “Pardon me for valuing cleanliness,” $xname huffs, and $aname notices a bit of dried purple liquid in $xtheir hair. $cathey thinks it better not to mention, considering $xname’s reaction, until $xname says: “In any case, you’re also welcome for us doing your job. Don’t worry, in my magnanimous generosity, I won’t expect payment.” To the Void with that, then. “You also have pus in your hair,” $aname points out mercilessly, and $xname’s eyes go wide with horror. “NO!” $cxthey turns to a masked mercenary nearby, gesturing at $xtheir head in panic<<if $xgender is 'female'>> as $xthey pulls her hair loose from her bun<</if>>. “Heval, water! WATER! NOW!” $aname can’t help $athemselves, letting a laugh slip, and $xname turns to $xthem with indignation. “You think this is a <em>joke</em>?” $xname yells. “My hair is ruined and you’re laughing! I could turn into a ghoul—” The masked mercenary, Heval, lets out a long-suffering sigh as they take a flask from their belt and approaches. “That’s not how that works, chief.” “You don’t know that!” $xname holds still as Heval dumps the water over $xtheir hair, washing it out, but still manages to glare at $aname through it. “I’ll remember this, Mirza.” $aname arches $atheir brows, grinning. “Remember what, me pointing out you had pus in your hair? I didn’t put it there.” “For laughing at me,” $xname sulks, <<if $xgender is 'male'>>brushing $xtheir wet hair back<<else>>retying $xtheir hair<</if>>. “Thank you, Heval.” “I look forward to seeing how you’ll take your revenge for such a horrible misdeed,” $aname says wryly, and to $atheir surprise, $xname chuckles at that. “You’re funny.” $cxthey levels $aname with a challenging look. “Can you fight as well as you can banter?” $aname crosses $atheir arms, meeting $xname’s gaze head on. “I can give you a demonstration, if you’d like to find out.” A smile grows on $xname’s face, seeming to enjoy how $aname isn’t intimidated by $xthem in the slightest. Seems like $aname has gotten the respect $athey was angling for, after all. “I think I would, lieutenant.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Jealousy@@ You never thought of yourself as a particularly jealous person, not until you met—and fell in love with—$dname. The way others hover around $dthem is a foreign thing to you, who is used to distances for either safety or formality between you and other people. Yet $dname appears completely unbothered by it, even when the officials and nobles fawning over $dthem are making it as exaggerated as possible. Of course, most of these attempts are superficial at best, politically calculated at worst. Very few flatterers even intend to seduce $dthem at all, but every now and then there will be someone with an obvious attraction, a straightforward proposition, and you can’t help but feel your hackles raise at it. A servant passing by brushes against $dname’s side in the hallway as you chat with $dthem, and your eyes fixate on the movement. The hand of a noble lingers on $dname’s shoulder and you coolly interrupt by calling $dname over to your side. A court official tries to ask $dname for drinks when you’re taking a walk in the palace gardens and you finds yourself speaking for $dthem, calmly rejecting the offer as you briefly, and furtively, touch on $dname’s lower back. “$name,” $dname says as soon as $dtheir would-be suitor has left, “I have to ask, what’s going on?” “Not an evening out for drinks, in any case,” you deflect irritably, mind still lingering with some displeasure on the last person who thought it fit to approach $dname in your presence and shamelessly try to proposition $dthem. “$name.” You blink and turn back to $dname. “Yes?” $dname gives you a curious look, then asks in a cautious tone, “Are you jealous?” You find yourself taken aback by the question. Thinking about it, though, you cannot deny that you have been rather wary of $dname being approached so easily by others, sometimes even complete strangers. “Not jealous, but… I admit I have been feeling rather...” You search for the word, “...protective of you, as of late.” “Protective?” $dname repeats incredulously, brows raised yet lips quirking up with amusement as $dthey hooks $dtheir arm around yours, and you continue on your walk together. “Is that what you call it?” “Of a sort,” you reply, gaze trailing over the flowerbeds lining the meticulously-laid stone path, colorful arrays that scatter petals across the ground, dancing along with every gust of wind. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t like…” “Seeing others approach me as if I’m not already spoken for?” $dname finishes, and when you meet $dtheir eyes, you see the somberness in $dtheir smile. But $dthey’s exactly right. That <em>is</em> what has been bothering you. $dname is still the general, not yet transitioned out of that role, and you’ve had to keep your relationship a secret for the time being. It has been testing your patience, to say the least. “Yes.” You avert your eyes as you turn the bend, walking below large archways coiled in vines blooming with purple and pink flowers. “I know it’s a temporary pretense, but…” You trail off, frustrated. “I understand.” $dname places another hand on your arm, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I would feel the same—but fortunately for me, the Crown cannot be approached so casually.” You roll your eyes, though you let a smile slip. “Yes, I imagine your burden is much lighter than mine.” “If it would please you, I’ll be more firm in my rejections,” $dname says more seriously. You frown a little, knowing that would draw more attention, perhaps even speculation as to who $dname could be courting for $dthem to start rejecting advances. “You don’t need to trouble yourself.” “I do, if this is causing you distress.” $dname slows you both to a stop beneath another archway, fragrant white flowers hanging down from above, the occasional petal falling down below. $cdthey turns to face you, and in the shadow of the stone arch, surrounded by its flowers, the moment almost feels intimate. $cdtheir eyes are warm with affection as $dthey looks at you. “I promise that once I am able—” “Wait,” you hush $dthem, sensing that whatever $dthey’s about to say may be compromising. You glance toward where you sense the Imperial Guards standing watch a short distance away, invisible as ever. “Ensure we have some privacy.” “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” $dname appears amused. “There’s no one nearby.” “Can you sense that?” $cdthey huffs. “No. But the chance is very low; we’re well hidden from view.” “Since when do you operate on <em>chance</em>?” $dname gives you an exasperated look. “Are you going to let me court you or not?” “Oh?” You give $dname an intrigued look. “Were you about to flirt with me, $dname?” $cdthey narrows $dtheir eyes at you the slightest bit, then wraps an arm around your back, pulling you close. “We’re well past flirting, my love.” You grin back at $dthem, resting a hand against the golden scales of $dtheir chest plate as $dthey leans in, lightly pressing $dtheir forehead to yours. “I promise that once I am able,” $dthey repeats, murmuring it against your lips, “I will shout from the highest mountain that I’m yours.” You smile and close your eyes, lightly brushing your nose against $dtheirs. “I’ll be patient until then.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Day Heval Met $xname@@ Heval has always had a soft spot for the weak and the defenseless. There are many reasons for it, beyond simple empathy and pity. On the streets of Zeratun, the glittering jewel serving as the capital of the Empire, mercy is in short supply. Those without wealth or influence will often find themselves faced with the bitter reality of their own powerlessness; Crown Piruz will hear no pleas. The Mîr’s soldiers bleed them dry of coin, beat those who would dare protest, and let entire city districts languish in neglect and poverty. Heval is too young to do anything to help their father as he struggles to cobble together their share of tithes for the Crown, skipping meals to ensure they have enough coin left to keep them from starving. They could not help their neighbors, either, when several families were forced out of their home for failing to pay their dues on time. And they could not help their best friend when she was locked away with half the district, left to die of disease while neither the Mîr or the Crown lifted a single finger to find a way to save their lives. What Heval <em>can</em> do, however, is help the stray cat being picked on by the other children in the neighborhood. The doing of three kids, two boys and a girl, who are known to be rather malicious towards stray animals, but this is the first time Heval has caught them in the act. Heval sees them chase the poor creature into a corner with sticks; the cat is young and small, a shaking ball of black fur that looks barely older than a kitten. Unlike the cat, however, Heval is far from small. They rush in, towering a full head and a half above the other kids despite being the same age. The group doesn’t notice at first, their backs turned to Heval as they try and poke at the cat with their sticks. Heval gets their attention when they rip a stick out of one of their hands, and starts whacking one of them with it—the leader of the group. “Ow, ow!” the boy exclaims, trying to shrink away from Heval’s hits and defend with his arms. The sole girl of the group tries to hit Heval with her own stick, but Heval shoves her away with a single hand, enough force that she trips over onto the ground. “Stop, that hurts!” the boy Heval is hitting continues to cry out. “Oh, it hurts, does it?” Heval sneers, turning to the other boy in the group who has been standing and watching, seeming frozen. The ringleader they were hitting quickly scurries away, his friend who fell scrambling up and quickly following. The boy who is left behind stares at Heval, wide-eyed as he realizes his friends have abandoned him. “Not so tough now, are you?” Heval raises the stick as if to hit him, and the boy shrieks, ducking and quickly hurrying off. As they watch the boy run away, they notice someone else standing at the end of the alleyway, watching with an amused smile. It’s another kid, but this one is completely unfamiliar. Heval takes note of how striking their green eyes are, but then turns their attention back to the cat still curled into a corner, trembling lightly. Its fur is puffed up, ears drawn back, and when Heval kneels in front of it, it hisses at them. It’s understandable, but Heval really doesn’t want to leave the pitiful cat to its fate, lest those kids find it again. “Let me.” Heval glances over at the stranger who has joined them now, kneeling down beside them. They reach out a hand to the cat. “Ssh, you poor thing. It’s alright, let me help you.” To Heval’s utter astonishment, the cat gradually appears to relax. The stranger holds out a fist for the cat to sniff, and it does, albeit cautiously. “How are you doing that?” The stranger shrugs. “Magic. Animals can read intent intuitively, if you project it outwards. They tend to like my aura, cats especially.” Heval gawks at them. “You can do magic like that? Are you studying at a school?” “No.” The stranger glances at Heval from the corner of their eyes, but then turns back to the cat, still sniffing at their fist. When the stranger raises their hand, the cat almost shrinks back a little, but doesn’t resist when it’s petted along the top of its head. “There you go. Come here, sweet thing.” The stranger picks the cat up, seeming to have calmed it down completely—or perhaps, almost hypnotized it. The cat curls up against the stranger’s chest. “I’m $xname, and I go by $xthey.” $xname’s gaze is still on the cat as $xthey speaks, stroking its little head; Heval can faintly hear the sound of it purring, its eyes squeezing shut. “And you?” “Heval, they,” Heval answers, distracted. “Sorry, but how do you know how to—” “You were brave back there,” $xname cuts them off, and despite $xtheir casual demeanor, Heval gets the distinct impression that $xthey is much more guarded than $xthey first appears. “Not really.” Heval hesitantly reaches out to run their fingers along the cat’s spine. “I wasn’t afraid of a few sticks…” They nearly draw their hand back in surprise when they feel the pleasant <em>warmth</em> surrounding the cat, radiating from $xname’s chest—is that the ‘aura’ $xthey mentioned? “Still, not many people would bother to help a stray cat.” $xname looks at them now, a curious gleam in $xtheir gaze. “Do you know how to fight?” Heval straightens their shoulders. “I can hold my own.” “Good, because those kids are returning.” Just as $xname says it, a large group appears at the end of the alley. “That’s them!” the boy who Heval beat on says, pointing at them. “They hit me with a stick, big brother!” The big brother in question glares, a stick of his own in his hand. “You there, who do you think you are, picking on kids smaller than you? I’ll teach you a lesson!” “You must be joking,” Heval scoffs, eyeballing the older siblings who have come to the unearned defense of the younger ones. Beside them, $xname puts the cat down behind them. “Stay here, okay?” $cxthey pets its head. “Good girl.” Cracking $xtheir knuckles, $xname returns to stand beside Heval, a grin spreading on $xtheir face. “Well, Heval? Scared yet? It’s six against two.” Heval meets $xname’s eyes. “Two?” “You didn’t think I was going to hang back, did you?” It’s then that Heval learns they aren’t the only one with a soft spot for the weak and the defenseless. And, that two can beat six. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;First Meeting@@ <b>24 WARDING, 549 AE</b> <em>Two months after Lady Zerya’s funeral</em> There’s a knock on the chamber doors. $rname glances over, $rtheir breath partway into a sob that $rthey smothers between $rtheir lips. It takes a moment for it to sink in that someone requires $rtheir attention. $crthey clears $rtheir throat. “One moment!” As $rname gets up from $rtheir bed, $rthey quickly wipes away $rtheir tears. $crthey doesn’t bother to try and hide the redness in $rtheir eyes and face; everyone in the palace knows by now how long $rthey has been in mourning. Today was especially difficult. There was no real reason for it, nothing in particular that triggered it—almost as if it welled up in a sudden burst from where it had laid dormant for a few days. Before $rthey knew it, $rname found $rthemselves weeping as $rthey thought of how $rthey would never be able to speak to $rtheir mentor again. Never receive her advice, never learn from her, never share meals with her, never bid her good morning or good night. Small things $rthey all took for granted. It still lingers on $rname’s mind as $rthey opens the door, and it takes several seconds for $rthem to realize $rthey’s looking at someone $rthey has never seen before. “$rtitle $rname.” The soldier, rather striking in appearance, inclines their head as their hazel eyes glance over $rname’s face. “Forgive me for intruding, but I must announce myself to you before I can take my post.” “Your post?” “Starting from today, I will be your Royal Protector,” they clarify, making no remark on $rname’s appearance, or the fact that $rthey was clearly weeping in $rtheir chambers. Their calm demeanor, strangely, puts $rname at ease. “My name is $aname Mirza, and I go by $athey.” $rname blinks, then nods. “I see. Was that all?” “It was,” $aname says, but just as $rname resolves to return to the darkness of $rtheir chambers, $aname adds, “Have you eaten yet, $rtitle $rname?” $rname pauses, brows furrowing lightly as $rthey realizes $rthey hasn’t. $crthey has missed breakfast, and it is almost evening. “Not yet.” $aname glances at the dark room behind $rname. “Would you care to join me in the courtyard for dinner?” $crtheir new Royal Protector, $rname notices, is unusual. Unlike everyone else in the palace, $aname looks $rthem straight in the eyes, and seems unafraid to extend an invitation despite the risk of offending $rname. Even the High General does not act so casually, and $rname has known $dthem for several years now. It is refreshing. All the others have been walking on eggshells around $rname ever since Lady Zerya passed, as if $rthey were as frail as brittle glass. It has lead to $rname allowing $rtheir grief to consume $rthem, drowning $rthemselves in it in a way that $rthey knows cannot continue. “I thought it would be best to get to know each other better,” $aname adds when $rname lingers in silence, caught up in $rtheir thoughts. “I will need to know your routine well in order to guard you properly.” Is $athey saying that to make $rname feel better about accepting the invitation? $rname hesitates. $crthey feels tired, fatigued by an urge to get under the covers and sleep the rest of the day away, but— $crthey meets $aname’s look, once more surprised by the steady eyes that greets $rtheirs in return. “Perhaps a small meal,” $rname says at length, $rtheir curiosity over this stranger winning out over $rtheir exhaustion, but more than that… $aname gives a small smile, one tinged by the understanding in $atheir gaze as $athey offers $rname $atheir arm. “The air is nice out this evening. A little brisk, but the courtyard is adequately warmed.” $rname places $rtheir hand on the crook of $aname’s elbow, walking along with $athem as they leave $rtheir bedchambers behind. “May I ask who appointed you, $aname?” “Oh, that is a rather amusing story. Mîr Lîlan put my name forward, but there was this noble who has held a longstanding grudge against me, you see, and so…” $rname realizes, for the first time, that what $rthey has really needed for these past two months is a friend. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;After the Coronation Banquet@@ “Can we discuss it inside?” $name looks tired. All $their energy appears to have seeped out of $them since $dname last spoke to $them at the banquet a few hours ago. $dname heard $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>were<<else>>was<</if>> accosted by a magus from one of the Imperial Guards right after their conversation. Whatever $name and the magus spoke about in private must have been draining. Once $dname steps into the room, $name closes and leans back against the door with even more visible exhaustion. “What happened?” $dname almost takes a step forward, but restrains $dthemselves at the last moment. “Are you not feeling well?” “No.” $name closes $their eyes. “I’m not.” This time, $dname does step forward, $dtheir hands reaching to lightly curl around $name’s shoulders, looking $them over from head to toe. Whatever ails $them is not anything physical, as far as $dname can tell—which is perhaps more worrying. If it <em>were</em> physical, the solution might have been an easy one. It’s most certainly related to what the magus told $them. All $dname can do is be present for whatever $name might need, whether it be advice or a listening ear or merely $dname’s presence. Though it becomes clear $their emotions are fragile in this state, because when $dname tries to help $them sit down, $name snaps at $dthem. “I can walk on my own.” As $dname’s brows furrow, $name’s outburst cools quickly, regret overtaking $their features. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me, you didn’t deserve that.” While $dname is not so sensitive that something like that would rattle $dthem, it is a good indicator that $name’s nerves are rather frayed, $their composure shaken. $dname cautions $them calmly but firmly, and $name looks about ready to come apart at the seams. “I want to rest my eyes,” $they say<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, “if only for a moment.” That, at least, is something $dname can help with. When $name attempts to arrange floor pillows to lie down on, $dname quickly cuts in. Before $dthey can think it through, $dthey offers $dtheir shoulder for $name to rest against instead. A brief instance of uncertainty passes through $dthem. This isn’t proper. $dname is $name’s general, not $their servant… although, isn’t $dthey $their servant? Loosely speaking? It’s a flimsy way to justify it. Were this any other occasion, with anyone else, $dname would never even think to cross this line, yet something about $name makes it impossible to ignore. $dname caught a glimpse of the pain $they carr<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>y<<else>>ies<</if>> with $them during the coronation ceremony, in the memory of $their mother. Even several days ago, $dname witnessed the aftermath of the nightmare $name had, how haunted $they looked. Despite having such a heavy weight upon $their shoulders, $name has accepted the title of Crown more gracefully and resiliently than many others would have, even though nearly every day spent in Marabad has been filled with hardship. For once, thoughts of duty and honor slip $dname’s mind: all $dthey truly wants is to offer $name some comfort, proper or not. $cdthey strips the upper layers of $dtheir armor. $name watches on, silent in $their surprise, almost hesitant at the offer. But $their weariness wins out. Carefully, $they lean<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their head<<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'very tall'>> down<</if>> against <<if $height is 'very short'>>the upper part of $dname’s chest<<else>>$dname’s shoulder<</if>>. $cthey feel<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> warm. $dname’s fingers twitch—an urge, instinctive and reckless, to curl $dtheir arm around $name’s shoulders ripples through $dtheir muscles. An ingrained memory of when $dthey used to hold others in $dtheir arms. Former lovers, not <em>the Crown</em>. $dname remains perfectly still as $name rests against $dthem, focusing on $dtheir breaths, trying not to think about what a scandal this would cause should anyone walk in on them like this. Yet, as $dthey pulls up $dtheir cloak to drape it over $name’s form, $dthey can’t bring $dthemselves to regret it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On a Date@@ You stare into the soft cloth of a blindfold wrapped around your head, a warm callused hand your only guide forward. “Are we there yet, $aname?” you ask, slowly walking along as $aname tugs you by your linked fingers, treading carefully but steadily across smooth stone tiles. You know $aname wouldn’t let you trip or stumble over anything, but the sun having set makes it even more difficult; you can’t even see the ground clearly from the small gaps in your blindfold. “Almost,” $aname reassures you, guiding you to turn around a corner, and then the ground changes beneath your feet as you tread across what sounds like grass. “Are we in the garden?” “Stop trying to spoil the surprise for yourself.” “I can’t help it!” You pull back on $aname’s hand to slow $athem down a little, and $athey gets the hint, walking beside you and guiding you with an arm around your back instead. “I don’t think I’ve ever worn a blindfold before until now.” $aname’s hand settles on your side, and you mirror $atheir gesture, curling your arm around $atheir waist in turn. “Really?” $aname says, still guiding you along across the grass. You hear $athem hum softly, then add, “We should change that.” You playfully squeeze $atheir side at the provocative remark. “Do you like having me at your mercy that much?” “I like it when you like it,” $aname replies, $atheir voice sounding closer to your ear now, a whisper of $atheir breath brushing your skin. You barely suppress a shiver. “Please behave, beloved, I’m sure the servants can see us.” “There are ten Imperial Guards surrounding us, and you’re worried about the servants?” “They’ve seen worse, they’re used to it.” $aname chuckles, but then gradually comes to a stop in what feels like the middle of the gardens. $cathey releases you and pulls away, moving to stand behind you instead. “Ready for your surprise?” “Very ready.” You can see a bit of light now, illuminating some of the grass around your feet. There’s a tug on your blindfold as $aname unties it, and when it falls away, you’re greeted by a wonderful sight. $aname has lead you to the edge of one of the lakes, away from the palace. Wooden poles stick out from the grass, holding up white drapery set up in a large half-tent, shielding from the view of the palace windows. Ornamental lanterns surrounding the tent cast golden light in patterns of flowers across the grass. It is reflected in the calm water of the lake, where glowing pink and white lotus flowers float along its dark surface like stars in the night sky. Within the tent, a large blanket covers the grass, on top of which are many soft pillows for both sitting and reclining on. Small woven baskets are neatly placed in the center, together with some plates, cups and two pitchers. You smell freshly baked bread, roasted meat, a rich blend of spices tickling your nose. You turn to $aname, eyes still wide in disbelief. “When you said you had a surprise, I expected a gift, not…” $aname smiles back at you as you find yourself momentarily speechless. “Do you like it?” “Of course I like it!” you all but exclaim, glancing at the tent, then back to $aname. “Did you ask the servants—” Then you remember $aname excused $athemselves early during the court meeting today, and your surprise grows further. “$aname, you set all this up yourself?” “It wouldn’t be a good gift if I hadn’t,” $aname replies simply, looking rather pleased with $athemselves. “It wasn’t much work. You neglected to eat dinner because of how long the court meeting drew on, so I merely…” You cup $atheir cheeks between your palms, holding $atheir face like a treasure, and $athey trails off, completely distracted. “I adore you,” you say sincerely, reflecting the swell of affection in your chest at the thoughtful—and utterly romantic—gesture. $aname looks away for a moment, the slightest touch of shyness, before $athey lifts $atheir hands to cover yours and says, with a tender and slightly mischievous smile, “How much?” You press a small kiss to the corner of $atheir mouth, a promise and a tease both. “Join me in the tent and I’ll show you how much.” You catch $athem staring at your lips when you pull back, and grin with satisfaction as it’s your turn to take $atheir hand now. “We shouldn’t let the food sit out for too long,” $aname says, but it is halfhearted as $athey lets you pull $athem toward the tent. “Really, you should eat first.” “Feed me and I’ll consider it.” $aname laughs, joining you as you both settle down onto the pillows. “As my Crown wishes.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;After the Coronation Banquet@@ “$xname,” $name says softly, muttering it against the smooth fabric of $xname’s tunic, thin enough that $their breath warms through it against $xname’s skin. “Do you ever feel tired?” $xname rests $xtheir hands on $name’s back, holding $them close—it is such a contrast from the glittering golden aura that burst from $their skin during the coronation ceremony earlier in the day. Now, its light is dimmed to a pitiful flickering. $cthey carr<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>ey<<else>>ies<</if>> $their exhaustion with $them like a physical thing, so palpable that $xname can almost feel it in $xtheir own arms as $xthey holds $them. What can be said, when $xname will never know of the burdens that $name will have to bear? $cxthey thinks of it for a moment and then decides that, this once, $xthey has nothing to lose by being truthful. “All the time.” $cxthey murmurs it <<if $height isnot 'very short' or $height isnot 'short'>>into<<else>>against the top of<</if>> $name’s ear, lips almost brushing against the skin. “I just don’t show it.” “How?” “By deluding myself, mostly.” One of the many things $xthey deludes $xthemselves about. “I eat, fight, sleep, spend my coin when I have it, roll around in a few beds, then eat, fight, sleep again. I don’t have time to think about it, which must mean I’m fine.” “Does that work?” “No.” $xname lowers $xtheir head further, exhaling a soft sigh against $name’s neck. “It’s not a good way to be.” $cxthey shouldn’t be doing this. This moment is too intimate, too sincere. $xname has felt it for the past few days now, seeing the way $name struggled with being given such an incomprehensibly important responsibility, and yet managing to survive it. To emerge as the Crown, despite the threats to $their life, despite the weight of $their grief, despite everything. $xname thought it was about redemption at first, a second chance. Now, $xthey thinks—fears—it’s becoming something more. Something $xthey has no control over. Despite knowing the risk of getting in too deep, $xthey can’t stop $xthemselves. $cxthey has never been very disciplined when it comes to matters of the heart. As such, $xtheir heart leads $xthem to lie down on the pillows with $name inside the sitting room, beating hard inside $xtheir chest. It is both a familiar and foreign sensation. $xname has wanted others before, many times, but this reaches deeper, feels more dangerous because of who they both are to each other. Because of who $xname was, once upon a time. But then $name touches $xtheir neck, and nothing else seems to matter anymore. “How does it feel?” $xname asks in a whisper. All $xtheir usual charm seems to fail $xthem, rendered speechless, stripped away by $name’s fingers. The only thing left is honesty. $name could’ve touched $xthem anywhere. $cxtheir offer for $name to touch $xthem wherever $they wanted was genuine, colored by $xname’s own desires, yet $name decided to touch $xtheir neck. Caress the skin above $xname’s pulse, fluttering in reaction. When was the last time $xname bared $xtheir throat to anyone? “Good,” $name whispers back, hunger bright in $their eyes. If $xname stays—here in this room, here in this palace, here with <em>$name</em>—$xthey might be devoured by it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;After the Coronation Banquet@@ $name’s face looks so peaceful. $rname gazes down at $them, where $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> stretched out on the floor of the sitting room, lying on a thick carpet and a pillow. $cthey seemed so exhausted earlier—the conversation $they had with that magus must have taken a toll on $them, for $them to drift off so quickly when the floor can’t be very cozy to sleep on. Quietly lifting up to $rtheir feet, $rname considers heating the air in the room with magic, but that might wake $name up. $crthey wanders over toward the cabinets on the other end of the room, opening them to find a stack of various more pillows and blankets. Satisfied, $rname takes a thin blanket. The summer heat has cooled considerably in the evening, so it might make $name a little bit more comfortable with some added warmth. Returning to $their side, $rname sits down beside $them, taking another moment to study $their face. This time, $rname’s gaze lingers, tracing the pleasing contours of $their face. It starts at $name’s eyelashes resting against $their cheeks, brows free from the furrows of wrinkles, eyes absolved from the weight $rname often sees reflected in them. $crthey follows the line of $name’s nose down to $their mouth, the former quietly inhaling and exhaling with the steady movements of $their chest, while the latter looks much softer now compared to when $name first arrived in the palace. $ctheir lips are no longer dry and cracked, now softened and lightly glistening with a touch of colorless balm to feed them. $rname wonders if it has a scent. Then $rthey wonders if it has a taste. The thought startles $rthem, and only then does $rthey realize $rtheir hand hovers in the air above $name’s face. As if $rname’s fingers were trailing after the lines $rtheir eyes made before, nearly close enough to touch $name’s brow. $rname quickly pulls $rtheir hand back, heart beating rapidly in $rtheir chest. Warmth gathers in $rtheir neck and face as $rthey averts $rtheir eyes, suddenly feeling unsteady as $rthey clutches the blanket against $rtheir chest. What just came over $rthem? Casting a timid peek back at $name’s face, it seems the odd moment did not disturb $name’s rest, at least. Remembering the blanket still in $rtheir arms, $rname diverts $rtheir attention and busies $rthemselves by unfolding it, then gently draping it over $name’s form. Of course, that is when $name chooses to open $their eyes. “I’m sorry,” $rname says quickly, hands frozen in the air, grasping the blanket. “I thought- did I wake you?” $crtheir heart is still racing. $crthey can only thank the dimness in the room for not showing how deeply $rtheir face must be flushed now. How long has $name been awake? Did $they notice what $rname was doing—or about to do? $name looks at $rthem a moment longer, but then starts to laugh. $rname’s startled state mellows into relief; $name must not have been aware of it. “Do I really deserve to be laughed at for trying to do something nice?” “I’m not laughing at you,” $name reassures $rthem as $rname lowers the rest of the blanket. “You looked so startled, I didn’t expect it.” “I thought you might get cold,” $rname murmurs, trying not to ignore what <em>else</em> $rthey was thinking at that moment. “Your arms must be where the sun goes after it sets.” $rname’s heart, just when it was beginning to calm, reawakens with an erratic thump against $rtheir ribs. It’s followed by a fluttery feeling stirring in $rtheir stomach as $rthey meets $name’s warm gaze. Whatever $their lips taste like, $rname’s imaginings cannot compare to the taste of $name’s words in that moment—affection, admiration, liquid sunlight. $crthey could drink it forever. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On a Date@@ “Have you ever been here before?” You toss $xname a quick glance from beneath your hood, unable to look at $xthem for long considering you have to watch your step in such a busy crowd. “Not in the upper markets,” you respond, passing by several stalls selling a staggering variety of wares, so many that you can scarcely keep up with them all. Dyed fabrics that seem to change color when looked at from different angles, pottery painted with patterns and images that seem to shift and move before your eyes, and even sets of candles that radiate multiple arrays of colorful light. Your arm is linked with $xname’s, who <<if $height is 'very tall'>>follows along with you as you use your height to make a path<<else>>uses $xtheir height and stature to make a path<</if>> for the two of you while you enjoy the sights and sounds of the marketplace. Both of you stick close to each other. Any attention you draw is on account of $xname being recognized occasionally as the Pale Sword, but other than that, with your eyes hidden beneath dark brown and having dressed down to modest clothes, you look like any other couple having a walk through the bazaar. The thought warms you. “Look at these,” $xname says, tugging you towards a stall selling sets of matching jewelry. Of course $xthey would be attracted to the shiniest items for sale. You let $xthem pull you along with a smile, standing in front of the stall and looking at various gem-encrusted bracelets and necklaces put on display. The stall owner engages with other customers while you browse, though it doesn’t take $xname long to pick something $xthey likes. Lifting up a delicate golden chain, $xthey shows you a necklace with several smaller chains dangling from its main one, sparkling light blue gemstones hanging from the ends like teardrops. “What do you think?” $xthey asks, and you humor $xthem. “Green would match your eyes better.” $xname laughs. “I meant for you, not me.” The owner of the stall notices your exchange as $xname returns the necklace to the stand, leaning in towards you with their eyes on $xname. You think for a moment that they must’ve recognized $xthem, but then they say, “Are you looking for a token for your promised one?” Even $xname is briefly surprised by the question. You exchange a look, $xname’s lips spreading in a slow grin while you avert your eyes, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “We’re not that far along yet,” $xname says to the vendor, though $xthey reaches down to take your hand in $xtheirs, twining your fingers together palm to palm. <em>Yet</em>. You idly run your thumb over $xtheirs, thinking that if you were to give $xthem a token of your bond, a mere necklace could never suffice. “Ah, well, it’s never too early in the courtship to start thinking about what kind of token to get each other!” the vendor says in a valiant attempt to keep your attention. “Or perhaps you would simply like to spoil your beloved with a gift?” $xname’s gaze turns thoughtful as $xthey eyes the assortment of jewelry laid out before you, but knowing $xtheir fondness for giving gifts—and how often $xthey takes it to an extreme—you tug at $xtheir hand while addressing the vendor with a polite smile. “Not today, I’m afraid.” “Another time, then!” You pull $xname away before anything more can come of it, and $xname gives you an amused look. “Do you have something against being spoiled?” $xthey teases as you navigate the crowds once more, entering a wide plaza with a grand fountain at its center. You both sit down at its marble edge, beside a few children who are toying around with the water, occasionally flicking some at each other. “I have all the jewelry I could ever ask for,” you reply with exasperated fondness. “I don’t need to add any more to it.” “Perhaps you don’t need it, but you certainly deserve it.” You laugh at the charming response. “Spending time with you is more than enough of a gift.” $xname raises your hand to $xtheir lips, brushing against your knuckles in a not-quite kiss. “Careful what you say to me in public, my love. I might swoon.” You bite your lower lip, drawing the attention of $xname’s eyes to your mouth, finding yourself leaning closer— “Are they gonna kiss?” a scandalized whisper reaches your ears, and when you glance over you see the children who were playing a short distance beside you staring at you with open curiosity. $xname starts to laugh while you avert your eyes, covering them with a hand while the children giggle. “You ruined it!” one of them accuses their friend, giving you a very serious, apologetic look. “Sorry. You can kiss if you want, promise we won’t look.” They cover their eyes, as if to make a point, though their friends don’t follow their example and keep snickering and casting glances your way. “How kind of you!” $xname replies to the politest among them, mirth dancing in $xtheir gaze, then turns back to you, grinning playfully. “Well? Can I get a kiss?” “You are so embarrassing,” you mutter, but then lean in and press a chaste peck to $xtheir cheek despite yourself, the most you allow yourself to do with a whole crowd watching. The gaggle of children erupts into noise and laughter. “Oooh, they kissed, they kissed!” “Hush! Stop looking at them, it’s rude!” You press your forehead against $xname’s shoulder, quietly laughing against $xtheir tunic while $xname wraps an arm around you, greatly entertained by the reactions of the children. The moment is one of such simple, easy joy. All the jewelry in the world couldn’t compare to it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Play Pretend@@ $dname knew there was more to the story than what Mîr Mêrxas told $dthem. “Can you not spare even a single moment—” $xname ducks the swing of $dtheir mace by a hair’s breadth, “—to talk?” $dname scowls, stepping in to attempt to grab $xname with $dtheir other hand, but $xname quickly dances out of reach. “What is there to talk about?” $dname replies, eyes following $xname’s movements while $dtheir ears are attuned to the fight happening around them. Crescent Blades clash with soldiers, the latter of which are dug in to protect the Sacred Site behind them—an ancient tree that towers over the forests of Zerat, larger than any man-made tower could be. Mîr Mêrxas said that bandits were attempting to claim the Sacred Site as their own, denying others entry and preventing those in need to benefit from its healing magic. $dname accepted his request to guard it with notable suspicion, and though $dthey anticipated an ambush, $dthey did not expect it would be from the Crescent Blades. They would never accept a request from bandits, and neither would they ever try to claim the Sacred Site of their own. The Pale Sword may be many things—a menace to $dname personally—but $dname never once doubted $xtheir intentions. $xname is a protective presence to Arsur, $xthey would never harm it or its people. “Are you not curious as to why I am attacking you?” $xname calls back, flames dancing along $xtheir arms as $xthey spins $xtheir shamshir a few times in $xtheir right hand, slowly circling $dname. $dname begins to turn counter to $xthem, eying $xthem closely. $cdthey knows $xname would have a reason for doing this—but $dthey, perhaps selfishly, can’t quite pass up the opportunity to cross blades with $xthem. “You’re not doing much attacking,” $dname retorts, a taunting tone to $dtheir voice. $cdthey casts $dtheir mace aside, assuming a bare-handed stance instead, hands raised, fingers bending in a beckoning motion. “Is this a fairer challenge?” $xname barks a laugh, sheathing $xtheir shamshir. “I do love it when you get cocky.” $cxthey rushes forward, lunging with a sharp and quick swing of $xtheir fist. It glances off $dname’s raised arm, $dname retaliating with a knee toward $xname’s gut. It’s dodged as $xname steps around $dthem to grab $dtheir other arm instead. $dname lashes out with $xtheir free hand, catching $xname with a fist to $xtheir side that has $xname grunting from the impact. $cxthey doesn’t let it stagger $xthem, instead quickly locking $dname’s wrist down to $xtheir side with $xtheir arm, driving $xtheir own knee up with force. Unlike $xname, $dname cannot avoid it with both $dtheir hands trapped. It hits $dthem in the stomach, knocking $dthem breathless long enough for $xname to push $dthem backward. $dname’s back hits a tree, a frustrated growl loosening in $dtheir throat. When $xname attempts to release one of $dname’s wrists, $dname grabs hold of $xthem instead, the two locked in a grapple as they struggle for control. Inner magic users are such pesky opponents—$xname’s enhanced strength matches $dname’s in every way, leaving them in a stalemate of sorts. $xname takes advantage, grunting out, “You’re being used!” The words require some effort, briefly lessening the hold on $dname, who quickly takes advantage to push forward with a burst of power. $cdthey twists them around, slamming $xname back against the tree instead, $xname letting out a surprised breath. “You think I don’t know that?” $dname hisses back, and $xname frowns back at $dthem. $dname continues to restrain $xthem, but makes no move to attack otherwise. It seems to be enough for $xname to gradually stop struggling, peering back at $dname with confusion. “I figured the talk of bandits was a lie from the moment I saw you and the Blades,” $dname elaborates, slowly lessening the force of $dtheir grip on $xname’s arms as well. “Let me guess: Mîr Mêrxas is the one trying to claim the Sacred Site, and thought he could use the Imperial Army to do it?” $xname’s surprise increases, brows arching high, before $xthey begins to laugh with undisguised delight. “You knew this whole time? I can’t believe it! You just wanted an excuse to fight me, didn’t you?” $dname huffs, but does not deny it. “How sweet,” $xname coos, grinning widely at $xthem. “Should I say I’m flattered?” $cxthey’s not taking this seriously at all. “$xname, if I were anyone else,” $dname says, tightening $dtheir grip on $xname’s wrist, “you would’ve been declared an enemy of the Empire. Do you understand? What were you thinking, attacking the Imperial Army?” $xname gives him a thoughtful look, but then $xtheir lips tilt into a smile. “I know. I wouldn’t have attacked if you had not been here.” $dname blinks. $cdthey releases $xname’s arms and steps back, frowning when $dthey realizes $dthey has been played. “You were counting on my presence.” Distantly, $dthey notices one of $dtheir lieutenants catching on in the midst of the fighting around them. $dname looks over and gives a quick nod—the lieutenant catches on, ordering the rest of the soldiers to stand down. The Crescent Blades retreat a little as well, looking toward their leader. They ease up and put their weapons away when $xname makes a waving motion with $xtheir hand. “Of course I was.” Mirth dances in $xname’s eyes, still only focused on $dname even while ordering $xtheir mercenaries to stand down. “Do you think I would have risked a full frontal attack otherwise? I knew you would listen to what I had to say.” Shaking $dtheir head, $dname relaxes $dtheir scowl to regain some measure of composure. $cdthey truly is too permissive where the Pale Sword is concerned. “Don’t take offense, $dname,” $xname says, smile fading from $xtheir face. When $dname meets $xtheir eyes again, $dthey’s almost surprised to see a measure of sincerity reflected back at $dthem. “I mean it as praise. Everyone knows you care for the people of Arsur above all else.” $dname searches $xtheir face, but doesn’t find any trace of $xname’s usual mischief. The admission makes $dthem feel slightly uneasy as $dname shifts $dtheir weight from one foot to the other, looking away again. Or perhaps restless is a better word for it. $cdthey attempts to distract $dthemselves, diverting the conversation. “And if I killed you before you could explain anything to me?” The soldiers and mercenaries around them begin to splinter off, $dname’s lieutenants and $xname’s right-hand Blades exchanging words—no doubt speaking of the Mîr’s deception. $xname’s usual cockiness returns at $dname’s question, smirking back at $dthem. “We both know that would never happen.” $dname has enough self-awareness to know that is true. $cdthey has never doubted $dtheir own capabilities, but $xname is one of the very few people where $dname would be uncertain about the outcome should they fight each other in earnest. But then $xname adds, as if it were self-evident, “You like me too much to truly fight me.” $dname exhales a breath, caught between $dtheir usual exasperation where $xname is concerned and something more unfamiliar. The glimpse of how $xname truly views $dthem has thrown their usual dynamic off-balance in a way that has $dname unsure of $dtheir own footing. There is none of $dtheir usual annoyance whenever $xname teases with flirtation like this, because $dname is always certain of its insincerity. Knowing it is a mere amusement to $xname and nothing more. This time feels different. $dname feels frustrated because of how quickly $xname hides behind $xtheir mask again after a rare moment of truthfulness. It’s that frustration that $dname blames $dtheir following actions on. “You’re right,” $dthey agrees, and to watch the way $xname goes still is reward enough for the brief concession to $dtheir pride. “Come again?” $xname is staring at $dthem in a mixture of faint disbelief and suspicion. $dname’s lips twitch, almost into a smile to betray $dtheir own amusement, but $dthey manages to suppress it as $dthey steps back into $xname’s space. “Did you not hear me?” $dname replies as $xname reflexively steps back in turn, though $xtheir retreat is thwarted by the tree behind $xthem, which $xthey seemed to have momentarily forgotten as $xthey’s backed into it. “I said that you’re right, I like you too much.” $cxtheir eyes go wide in mute shock as $dname uses $dtheir height to $dtheir advantage, leaning over $xname as $dthey rests an arm against the tree above $xname’s head. “It makes me more lenient with you than I should be,” $dname continues, voice lowering with suggestion. “You’re joking.” $xname glances around, as if it were a prank orchestrated by $xtheir Blades, before refocusing on $dname. “This is a joke, isn’t it?” “Do I look like I’m joking?” $dname might be enjoying this too much. $xname narrows $xtheir eyes at $dname for a brief moment, something flashing in $xtheir gaze, before $xthey suddenly lifts off the tree and moves closer to $dname in turn, head tilted up in challenge. They’re close enough for their noses to nearly touch. “If you like me that much, why don’t you do something about it?” As soon as $xname’s breath brushes against $dtheir lips with $xtheir words, $dname’s head goes blank. For a moment, all $dthey feels is an <em>urge</em>— $cdthey quickly pulls back, scowling deeply while $xname starts to laugh, leaning back against the tree with a smug smile. “I knew it!” $cxthey lets out an amused sigh, though there’s almost a tinge of relief to it. “You were just messing with me.” $dname’s hands flex at $dtheir sides, glowing with a heat of something $dthey was nearly tempted into. It was a temporary bout of insanity, surely, or of needs $dthey has repressed as there had been no time to tend to them. $cdthey rubs a hand over $dtheir face, cursing $dthemselves for the impulse. “$dname?” $xname sounds a little uncertain now, meeting $dname’s gaze with a questioning frown. “You <em>were</em> just messing with me, right?” For some reason, $dname hesitates. $cdthey crushes the sensation beneath $dtheir heel, straightening out $dtheir expression and leveling $xname with an irritated look. “Obviously.” $xname relaxes again, grinning back at $dthem. “Right. Obviously.” Yet, something about it doesn’t quite reach $xtheir eyes. Is it just in $dname’s imagination, or does $xthey almost sound disappointed? $cdthey shakes the thought off. “Enough games. Come with me, we have to plan how to handle this situation with Mîr Mêrxas.” $xname perks up, usual mischief returning. “Are you hiring me?” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes, and just like that, they’re back to how they were before. “Is it always about coin with you?” Better not to think too much about it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;After the Coronation Banquet@@ $aname pulls the curtains shut, the room falling into dim shadow illuminated only by a few candles standing upon a small dresser. $cathey turns and looks upon the form hidden by a thin blanket, head resting on the pillows—$athey can just about make out the slow movements of $name’s chest, rising and falling with steady breaths. $cathey didn’t become the Royal Protector to serve a Crown. The fact that there wasn’t a Crown <em>to</em> serve made the position an attractive one to begin with. While it placed $athem under $dname’s authority, $athey knew that the general would not get in the way of $aname’s personal pursuits. However, plans change. When $athey joined the army, it was a decision fueled by shame. Any coin $athey was offered, $atheirs by right of being Crown Piruz’ child, $athey rejected, earning it by serving Arsur instead. $cathey did not judge $atheir grandparents, $atheir aunts and uncles, for choosing to accept it. The yearly stipend was a modest sum to begin with, enough to live comfortably but not lavishly, yet $aname could not bring $athemselves to take advantage of it. Its gold was stained to $athem. Assuming the role of Royal Protector felt similarly stained. A necessary evil, putting $athem in the best position to gather information on the Followers of Vidarna, but the taste of it lingered bitterly in $aname’s mouth. Looking at $name now, though, $athey can’t help but see things in a new light. $aname settles down beside $them, smiling at the way $name’s heart beats a little faster while $they pretend<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to sleep. As $aname watches $them, $athey knows $athey does not guard $name out of necessity, or out of obligation to fulfill $atheir role. $cathey feels protective of $name. Not as the Crown, but as another person. Someone who has been asked to carry an enormous burden, having already suffered so much, and being so vulnerable early in $their reign. So vulnerable in this very moment, stubbornly keeping $their eyes closed and feigning slumber. “Need anything else while you’re pretending to sleep?” $aname asks, trying to distract $athemselves from that feeling. Finally, $name opens $their eyes, giving a smile despite being caught. “I <em>was</em> starting to fall asleep. You’re surprisingly good at tucking people in, did you know that?” $aname averts $atheir gaze, exhaling a short breath. As much as $athey reminds $athemselves of the risks, in moments like these with $name being so open and inviting, it’s difficult to keep $atheir distance. “It’s my first time doing it, so I’ll take that as well-earned praise.” “It was intended as such, Your Highness,” $name teases, the words making them both pause. Yet they don’t remind $aname of $atheir father, of $atheir childhood ignorance, of the shame and guilt in knowing what suffering $athey benefited from merely by carrying that title. Instead, the way $name says it, the playful words remind $athem of $atheir mother, of her doting and love and pride in her children—of how proud she would be now if she could see $aname. It’s dangerous to think this way, $athey knows that. Becoming too invested with $atheir feelings can only lead to more pain down the line. Perhaps $athey is too much like $atheir mother in that way, closing her eyes and hoping for the best as she followed Piruz into ruin. Yet, try as $athey might, $athey can no longer look at $name and only see the Crown. $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> quickly becoming more than that. And $aname doesn’t know if $athey has the will to resist the change. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;In Between@@ $name tries so hard. The Crown isn’t afforded rest, especially not after the disaster that occurred on the night of $their coronation. $aname has been by $their side following the days after $their confrontation with the Imperial Court, as well as $dname and $xname’s departures. Since that time, $name has hardly had the time to catch $their breath. “It’s tiring,” $they say<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to $aname one afternoon, as $they hurr<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>ies<<else>>y<</if>> to their lesson in mathematics, $aname walking beside $them. “But I enjoy it. I’m learning so many new things—my father did his best to teach me what he knew, but he was hardly an expert in all matters.” “Could you not study at a slower pace?” $aname suggests, worried $name may burn $themselves up at the rate $they’<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<<else>>re<</if>> going, taking lessons from morning till night, only broken up by court meetings and mealtimes. “I could,” $name replies, giving a weary smile, “but I shouldn’t.” It’s the only true path $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>has<<else>>have<</if>> to grow into $their role as the Crown. The court meetings are a trial by fire, the nobles taking full advantage of $name’s inexperience and unpreparedness to try and get their way. $name is right, it <em>is</em> a necessity—and $name seems to truly enjoy $their lessons as well. $cthey must take after $their father in that way. From how $name has described Harun, he was a rather scholarly sort. Though as $aname discovers, that doesn’t mean $name dislikes the idea of more physical pursuits. If anything, when $aname suggests getting started with training $name in fitness and combat, $their eyes light up—almost literally. Perhaps a bit of $their mother’s influence, too. “I can choose a weapon?” $name asks, eyes growing wide. “Of course,” $aname replies, smiling at the barely suppressed eagerness in $their voice. “But let’s start with increasing your endurance and strength, first. You’re hardly going to be able to wield a weapon if you lose your breath after a single swing.” If $name had been raised in the palace, $they would have been trained in a variety of weaponry, like $aname was. Piruz was an exception due to his frail constitution, but Crowns are generally expected to be as skilled with a blade as they are educated. $aname remembers the incident in the tunnels, how defenseless $name was when the assassin chased $them down. Thinking of it almost inspires greater anxiety now than when it first happened, and $athey forces the memory away, ill at ease with even imagining it. It’s because of $atheir growing attachment to $name, $athey knows. How <em>couldn’t</em> $athey have grown attached, after seeing and hearing all that $name has endured, and witnessing $their resilience in the face of it? No one can know with certainty why the spirits choose the Crowns they do, but $aname thinks $athey might have an inkling for why it had to be $name. Arsur, as fractured and wounded as it is, needs someone who knows how to survive. $name is still learning day by day, but $aname can already see the first seeds of $their growing confidence. $cthey <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>has<<else>>have<</if>> the potential to become a truly formidable Crown, one that has weathered storms very few of $their predecessors have ever had to overcome—but only if $they get<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> the chance to. For the first time, $aname finds $athemselves thinking that $athey truly wants to be $name’s Royal Protector. <<back>></div>

<div id="sidebar"> <div class="sidebar-header">  <div></div>  <h1 class="story-title" data-passage="gameTitle"></h1>  <div class="sidebar-toggle"> <span id="sidebar-toggle-icon" class="lnr lnr-menu"></span> </div> </div>    <div class="story-logo" data-passage="storyLogo"></div> <div class="story-banner" data-passage="storyBanner"></div>  <h2 class="story-author" data-passage="storyAuthor"></h2> <nav class="sidebar-nav"> <div class="story-caption" data-passage="storyCaption"></div> <ul class="story-menu" data-passage="storyMenu"> </ul> <ul class="story-tools"> <li> <span id="restart-button" class="lnr lnr-redo"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Restart</span> </li> <li> <span id="saves-button" class="lnr lnr-download"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Saves</span> </li> <li> <span id="settings-button" class="lnr lnr-cog"></span> <span class="tooltiptext">Settings</span> </li> </ul> </nav> </div>  </div>  <div id="story" role="main"> <div id="passages"> <div id="passage-start" data-passage="start" class="passage"> </div> </div> </div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On a Date@@ “Done already?” You suck in a last breath before you straighten up again from your exhausted, bent-over posture, switching your practice dagger from one hand to the other to wipe your sweaty palms off onto your trousers. Compared to you, $dname looks largely unaffected. Usually, $aname would be training you, but had to head to the city earlier in the day to resolve some issues with the city guard. Since you already had plans to spend the evening with $dname, $dthey offered to train you instead. An efficient idea in theory, were it not for how utterly distracting it is to be sparring with $dthem. “Just catching my breath,” you respond to $dname’s question as you resume your stance, remembering to keep your shoulders and arms loose as you hold up your dagger. “Another round?” $dname, unlike you, is barehanded. $cdthey assured you that you wouldn’t be able to do any damage with your blunted dagger, and $dthey has certainly- <em>handled</em> you, without much difficulty. “Of course.” $dname’s eyes, openly admiring, trail over you from head to toe, the slightest smile playing on $dtheir lips at your determined expression. “Whenever you’re ready.” While you have trained to become quite capable with various weaponry over these past few years, there is still a considerable gap in combat experience between the two of you. Despite that fact, even during a mock fight, $dname does not take you lightly. $cdthey assesses you as seriously as $dthey would any other opponent during a real battle, and if anything, your persistence in trying to defeat $dthem is received with appreciation rather than causing insult. Steadying yourself, you wait for a heartbeat, then move. Launching right at $dname with a burst of speed, you hope to catch $dthem off-guard with the bold attack rather than the prodding and poking you’ve done before. It even seems to work. $dname’s eyes widen and brows arch, but when you lash out with your dagger, the attack is still deflected. For all of $dname's size and stature, $dthey has surprisingly quick reflexes—not enough to dodge nimbly out of the way, like $aname would, but enough to smack your arm away. As you quickly retract your arm and go in for another blow, $dname steps back to try and create some space between you. You don’t let $dthem, moving in again with another swipe of your dagger. This one almost catches $dthem across the fabric of $dtheir tunic on $dtheir chest, forcing $dthem to step back even further. Yet again, you give chase. Finally feeling as if you’ve found a tactic that works on $dthem, the dance between you feels exhilarating. After your opening attacks, $dname finds the space to counter. Evading $dtheir blows takes additional energy—you feel your muscles start to burn and tremble not soon after. Attacking so aggressively, after what was a nearly two-hour long training session, takes stamina that you’ve already depleted. It’s no surprise to you when $dname finally catches you in one of your flagging attacks. You know the swipe of your dagger is too slow, too weak, even before you finish the motion of it. It takes $dname little effort to halt the movement, grabbing your forearm and stilling your hand. But, you notice triumphantly, $dname is out of breath. “If I weren’t tired,” you speak between your own panting, “I would’ve gotten to you eventually.” $dname gives a full smile this time as $dthey huffs out an almost-laugh. “You might have. I didn’t expect you to attack so boldly.” You lean some of your weight against $dthem, arms lazily wrapping around $dtheir waist. “Do you like it when I’m bold?” “I like you in any way you choose to be,” $dname replies, and you can’t tell whether you are more affected by $dtheir actual words or the hot breath that carries them, mingling with yours. Suddenly, it’s very difficult to focus on anything but $dtheir lips. “But yes, I don’t mind being chased from time to time.” When your gaze lingers on $dtheir mouth, $dname notices, lifting a hand and tilting your chin up a little to refocus your stare to $dtheir amused eyes. “In front of the palace guards, $name?” You glance at the training yard, remembering that you are in full view of nearly fifty guards in the midst of their own training. At least they are polite enough to pretend not to see you. While $dname might not be the general anymore, that doesn’t mean you should go from hiding your relationship to being an exhibitionist. “Right.” You pull away, wiping the sweat from the back of your neck with your sleeve. “I should take a bath first, anyway. I’m sure I reek.” “Mind if I join you?” You arch a teasing brow—$dname’s intense gaze doesn’t at all hide the implication behind it. Not that you mind, and what better way to end the afternoon? “I’ll mind if you <em>don’t</em> join me.” If “chasing” $dname gets $dthem this worked up, you should clearly do it more often. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Select whether your Crown is passive or assertive during this scene: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Passive|R CH10 pass]]</li> <li>[[Assertive|R CH10 ass]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;In the Temple@@ $rname did not have any expectations of a relationship with the Crown, beyond a cordial one, back when $rthey still searched. $crtheir priority was always to find the Crown first. There was hardly any room left to imagine what kind of relationship they might have, once the Crown was found. But now— “I want to kiss your hand.” $crthey sucks in a sharp breath, $rtheir skin burning without even being touched. $name does not meet $rtheir eyes, $their confession quiet like a secret whispered between the two of them. $rname’s eyes widen, lips parted slightly. The words fall from $rtheir mouth, coaxed out by $name’s cautious request. “Then kiss me.” Ever since $rthey met $name, $rthey was already grateful to have $their regard, $their friendship. Over these past weeks, however, $rtheir feelings have begun to shift. Gradually, but intently, with every shared look across the throne room, every shared smile over a cup of tea during mealtimes together. $crthey hardly even noticed it. Only now does it hit $rthem, together with $name’s soft words and $their bright eyes, open and honest and so tender when they finally look up to meet $rname’s. $rname <em>wants</em> $name to kiss $rthem, $rthey realizes suddenly, $rtheir heart swelling in $rtheir chest as it beats with anticipation. $crthey lifts $rtheir hand to $name in hopeful invitation, though it is almost as if $rtheir arm moves on its own. As if $rtheir body itself yearns for $name’s touch. Slowly, softly, as if savoring the touch of $rname’s skin, $name bends and kisses the back of $rname’s hand. “Was that all?” $rname should feel ashamed, to be so bold, to make such demands of $rtheir Crown—yet, at the same time, it is precisely that which has $rthem so enraptured. <em>$crtheir</em> Crown, gazing back at $rthem with such wonder, as if $rthey were the most beautiful sight $name had ever laid eyes on as $they kiss<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> $rname’s palm. “More,” $rname asks, pleads, and $name obeys gladly, kissing the inner side of $rtheir wrist next. “More,” $rname whispers again, <em>begs</em> as $rthey spreads $rtheir fingers with a soft, “please.” $name gives $rthem exactly what $rthey wants, kissing the tip of each one with adoration. $rname can hardly breathe, $rtheir other hand clenched on $rtheir lap, legs stiff with tension beneath $rthem, toes curling in $rtheir shoes from the molten heat inside of $rthem. Each kiss, as simple and as small as it is, ripples through $rthem with a thrill of pleasure so great that $rname thinks if $name were to ever kiss $rtheir lips, $rthey might truly faint. “Your lips are like silk, $name,” $rthey confesses, touching $rtheir thumb against $name’s lower lip and marveling at its softness, a slight wetness left from $their kisses, $their breath hot against $rname’s finger as $they exhale<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>. Just as $name reaches out and grabs $rname’s wrist, caught in the same spell of desire that has rendered $rname dazed, a knock sounds on the doors of the temple. The spell is broken. Even as they both spring apart, $rname knows something has changed between them. Deepened, perhaps, in a way $rthey never would have expected, never would have dared dream of. There is no time to speak of it, but $rname knows instantly that $rthey does not regret it. $crtheir feelings, though new and budding, are true. Something that began as a promising friendship, and is twining with another kind of affection—not any less, but different. One that burns. $crthey likes it, very much. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;In the Temple@@ $rname did not have any expectations of a relationship with the Crown, beyond a cordial one, back when $rthey still searched. $crtheir priority was always to find the Crown first. There was hardly any room left to imagine what kind of relationship they might have, once the Crown was found. But now— “Can I kiss your hand, $rname?” $crthey sucks in a quiet breath, $rtheir skin burning without even being touched. $name gazes back at $rthem with an undisguised intensity in $their eyes, simmering like the edges of the sun in a heatwave, making the air between them swelter. $rname’s eyes widen, lips parted slightly. $crthey tries to speak, but it’s as if $rtheir lips have forgotten how to form words. “I…” Ever since $rthey met $name, $rthey was already grateful to have $their regard, $their friendship. Over these past weeks, however, $rtheir feelings have begun to shift. Gradually, but intently, with every shared look across the throne room, every shared smile over a cup of tea during mealtimes together. $crthey hardly even noticed it. Only now does it hit $rthem, together with $name’s bold words and $their bright eyes, open and honest and so tender. “I won’t if you don’t want me to,” $name says when $rname remains quiet, beginning to pull $their hand back from where it held $rname’s, but then $rname tightens $rtheir grip. “No! It’s—” $crthey stammers, unable to meet $name’s gaze. “I would… I do want you to.” $crthey <em>does</em>, $rname realizes suddenly, $rtheir heart swelling in $rtheir chest as it beats with wonder. $crthey wants $name to kiss $rthem, and $name does. Slowly, softly, as if savoring each touch of $rname’s skin, $they kiss<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> across $rtheir hand. $crtheir knuckles, $rtheir palm, $rtheir wrist, then even $rtheir fingers with such adoration—as if merely touching $rname like this, with small kisses, would be enough to sate $them. Enough to sustain $them, more than food or water. $rname can hardly breathe, $rtheir other hand clenched on $rtheir lap, legs stiff with tension beneath $rthem, toes curling in $rtheir shoes from the molten heat inside of $rthem. Each kiss, as simple and as small as it is, ripples through $rthem with a thrill of pleasure so great that $rname thinks if $name were to ever kiss $rtheir lips, $rthey might truly faint. It ends too quickly. $rname, for once, does not think as $rthey reaches and cups $name’s face when $they move<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to pull back. $crtheir head is perfectly, wonderfully empty of thought, filled only with <em>need</em>. “Your lips are like silk, $name,” $rthey confesses, touching $rtheir thumb against $name’s lower lip and marveling at its softness, a slight wetness left from $their kisses, $their breath hot against $rname’s finger as $they exhale<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>. Just as $name reaches out and grabs $rname’s wrist, caught in the same spell of desire that has rendered $rname dazed, a knock sounds on the doors of the temple. The spell is broken. Even as they both spring apart, $rname knows something has changed between them. Deepened, perhaps, in a way $rthey never would have expected, never would have dared dream of. There is no time to speak of it, but $rname knows instantly that $rthey does not regret it. $crtheir feelings, though new and budding, are true. Something that began as a promising friendship, and is twining with another kind of affection—not any less, but different. One that burns. $crthey likes it, very much. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Rest Now@@ “Do you remember me?” Two wide, terrified eyes stare back at $xthem from beneath a bronze helmet, its wearer spread across the floor on his back, his sword lying beside him with its blade shattered in pieces. Behram’s palace is filled with noise. Shouts, and bells being rung in alarm—$xname does not care. $cxtheir gaze is focused on the soldier trying to scramble back, away from $xname, but he’s cornered. His shoulders hit the walls of the hallway behind him, the very end of it. “I… I don’t know who you think I am, but I—” The soldier is cut off by a boot pressed to his neck, slamming him back into the wall. It’s a carefully controlled move, hard enough to cut off his air, light enough to avoid crushing his windpipe. “Even now,” $xname hisses as the soldier beneath $xtheir heel chokes, clawing futilely at $xname’s armored boot, “you would try to lie your way out of this?” Payam’s lips move in an attempt to form words, but $xname does not give him the breath. Not until tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes. When $xname removes $xtheir boot, Payam doubles over, nearly curling up on his side as he sucks in air between his coughs, clutching at his throat. “Then again, what did I expect from a weasel who only has the courage to murder defenseless villagers,” $xname scoffs, the venomous insult the only outlet $xthey allows for $xtheir rage, because there will be nothing left of Payam if $xthey lets $xtheir fists uncurl. And it’s not the time for that yet. Behram’s guards haven’t found them, but it won’t take them much longer. Payam peers up at $xname with a trembling gaze. “I was only—” This time, it’s $xname’s hand that finds Payam’s neck instead, lifting him up by his feet to slam him against the wall once more. The stone cracks beneath the force of it, and Payam’s eyes roll, the whites showing as he seems to black out for a moment. It reminds $xname to stay in control, and $xthey eases $xtheir grip. Enough for Payam to spit out blood over $xname’s hand. “If you say you were <em>only following orders</em>,” $xname speaks, voice eerily calm, “I will not end it here. I will take you from this palace, I will bleed you out like a pig, I will slaughter you like one, and you will feel every second. I will etch the agony of it into your bones, so your spirit will remember every moment. Do not say it.” Payam’s gaze is unfocused, half-dead already, but he nods, however weakly. So $xname takes another breath, and asks, “Are you the last one?” There it is, in Payam’s eyes. The knowledge that after he answers this question, he is going to die. Whether he has made his peace with it or simply lacks the will to fight it, $xname does not know. $cxthey does not care. “I am the last one,” Payam says, voice shredded into a croak, and closes his eyes. “You killed all the others ten years ago.” $xname takes a deep breath, and looks destiny in the eyes. “I believe you.” And then $xthey lights Payam on fire. The flames burst from $xname’s skin to engulf them both, and Payam <em>screams</em>. It is far from a painless death, but it is a quick one. The fire consumes him in seconds, leaving nothing but armor and charred bones that fall apart into a miserable heap on the floor. Behram’s guards know where $xname is now. $cxthey can sense them all change directions, heading right for $xthem. $xname looks down at the pile of Payam’s remains, and feels empty. “Forgive me for taking so long, dayê,” $xthey murmurs, lifting $xtheir palm and staring down at the ash in $xtheir hand. “Rest now.” $cxthey wonders, for a brief moment, what Rona would say if she could see her child now. If she would be proud of $xthem, or if she would grieve for $xthem. $xname decides $xthey would rather not know. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On a “Date”@@ “Here,” $rname says, holding out $rtheir hands to $name. “Let me show you.” The Crown has been an excellent student over these past few months. Ever since $their lessons with $their tutors started in earnest, $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>has<<else>>have<</if>> thrown $themselves at $their studies with a singular focus. So much so that $rname is even a little worried $name is studying a little too hard. $cthey won’t be dissuaded from it, however, especially where it concerns $their lessons on magic. $rname thinks it might be due to $their father, that it is a way that $name still feels connected to him, but it’s not something to simply mention in passing. It has been nice to attend $name’s lessons with $them, besides. $rname doesn’t have many other people to share $rtheir love for magic with, seeing as how most magi in these social circles hold nothing but contempt for $rthem. When it turns out Perjin can’t make it for an afternoon tutoring session, $rname is all too glad to take her place as a substitute. Although $rthey underestimated how distracting it would be, for the both of them. “Like this?” $name asks quietly, holding $rname’s hands between $their own and letting their magic connect naturally. It’s supposed to be a lesson in sensory magic, a useful tool for anyone regardless of inner or outer magic type. $rname thought a practical demonstration would be best, not realizing how much it would affect $rthem. $crthey’s amazed that $rthey forgot, considering $rthey knows very well what an effect $name’s magic always has on $rthem. Even with this simple touch, feeling the warmth of $them reach out through their hands pressed together, it makes $rname shudder. Goosebumps raising on $rtheir arms as $name’s magic all but caresses $rthem in greeting, curling around $rthem like a cat would curl up on a warm lap. “$rname?” $name asks, noticing $rname’s flustered state. $cthey <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>smiles<<else>>smile<</if>> as $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>realizes<<else>>realize<</if>> why $rname is affected, a teasing gleam in $their eyes. “Everything alright?” $rname takes a breath, trying to cool down from the sudden heat that has overcome $rthem. “Perfectly fine,” $rthey replies, channeling $rtheir own magic to $rtheir fingertips. $name’s eyes widen as $they no doubt <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>feels<<else>>feel<</if>> it, the current of lightning that runs through $rname’s veins spreading across $name’s fingers—visible sparks crackle to life, sizzling across $name’s knuckles and nearly making $them jump. “Well?” $rname says sweetly. “Think you can memorize the feeling of my magic?” $name’s lips part, then snap shut again. A tense, exhilarating energy builds between their hands, like some strange force keeping them affixed. “I don’t think I could forget it,” $name replies breathlessly, bright sparks dancing up $their arms now, the look of admiration on $their face shifting into something much more intense as $their eyes meet $rname’s. “Are you sure you want to play this game, $rname?” $rname grins, then tears $rtheir hands free from $name’s as $rthey quickly hops up to $rtheir feet. “I’m certain. Count to a hundred, then try and find me through your senses.” “A hundred—?” Before $name can protest, $rname has already left the room, hurrying off towards the gardens. If $rthey recalls right, there are rows of tall hedges on the southeastern side that would make for a suitable hiding spot. It’s a small labyrinth, there to amuse guests or provide privacy. $crthey has to hold back $rtheir laughter as $rthey senses $name’s frustration even from a distance, a flame of the sun’s heat blazing with impatience while the seconds pass by. It takes $rname all hundred seconds to make it to the hedges in the royal gardens, and once $rtheir time to hide has ended, $rthey waits. It doesn’t take $name long at all to find $rthem. $rname can feel $name headed straight toward $rtheir side of the gardens. The Crown comes to a brief stop at the edge of it, perhaps trying to catch a glimpse of $rname who is hidden completely from view. Moments later, the Crown heads straight for $rthem. “Come out, $rname!” $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>calls<<else>>call<</if>>. “I’ve found you!” Well, where’s the fun in that? $rname darts around a corner just as $name enters the maze, rewarded by a playfully indignant exclamation. “Running away?” $name sets in the chase, $their magic flaring like a sunrise. At first, $rname thinks it is a brief loss of self-control, until $name’s magic radiates so far and wide that $rname can no longer pinpoint where $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>is<<else>>are<</if>>. Oh, well played. $rname begins to run blindly, turning corner after corner in the maze, until finally— $crthey runs right into $name’s arms, laughing with surprise as $name grins back at $rthem, spinning $rname around to press $rtheir back against a hedge. “Caught you,” $name says with no small amount of self-satisfaction, arms wrapped around $rname’s waist, who smiles back at $them with delight. “I <em>let</em> you catch me,” $rname teases, amused by the exasperated huff $rthey gets in response. “So? Was my lesson successful, do you think?” $name pretends to think. “I was certainly more motivated than usual….” $rname chuckles, draping $rtheir arms around $name’s shoulders and rewarding $them with a sweet kiss to $their brow. “I wonder why?” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Buried Deep@@ “$rname?” $aname peers down the dark passage leading further underground. $catheir hand shines with white light, a glow created by $atheir aura, casting down the ancient stairway as $athey looks for any sign of $atheir Sorcerer. $cathey finds none. “I told $rthem to stay close,” $aname mutters with frustration, looking over $atheir shoulder to the two guards accompanying $athem. “You stay here and keep watch.” The last thing $athey needs is to be beset by looters while searching for $rname, who has let $rtheir enthusiasm get the better of $rthem. As is expected whenever magic mysteries are concerned, even ones that are not strictly within $rname’s expertise. $crthey insisted $rthey could at least evaluate the situation and determine what was needed, ignoring concerns for $rtheir own safety. After the two guards nod in affirmation at $aname’s order $athey turns and descends down the stairs of the sunken temple, buried underneath mountains of sand. They’re here as a request from the local steward of a nearby village, which has long complained of quakes beneath the earth and the disturbance of idle magic in the air. The inhabitants of Şevan’s southern parts, on the border with Qathesh, have reported that even the smallest magic spells have been acting erratically. Seeing how the nearest magi with expertise are across the province, and $rname was already nearby accompanying Crown $name to a meeting with Qatheshi dignitaries, $rthey decided to take it upon $rthemselves to investigate. Of course, $aname insisted on escorting $rthem personally. While it has been reassuring to see the way $rname has come into $rtheir own over these past few months—and admirable, really, though that is not as easily expressed without also examining the stirring of something <em>else</em> deep within $aname’s heart—$athey wishes $rname could take it one step at a time. At least to spare $aname’s poor nerves. “$rname, can you hear me?” $aname calls again, increasing the brightness of $atheir aura to light the large hall $athey finds $athemselves in now. It looks to be a reception to the temple proper, one which used to be dedicated to the Earth. Fitting that it should be buried in its disuse, $aname supposes. Finding no sign of $rname, $aname attempts once more to use $atheir sensory abilities. But, like the dozens of other times $athey attempted this, finds $athemselves blocked. Like someone is stifling any sound or scent $athey could have picked up, the walls shielding against any attempts to sense $rname’s magic signature. Feeling a growing urgency now, $aname follows the outlines of the walls to explore the various corridors. Two of them lead to dead ends, with no sign of $rname. A third leads further down still. It’s customary for earth temples to lead underground, for obvious reasons, but in this situation it only serves to create and eerie atmosphere. Should the temple’s supports collapse beneath the weight of the sand, it will turn from a temple into a tomb for the both of them. “$rname!” $athey calls again as $athey walks down the last flight of stairs, and this time, $athey is answered. “Stop!” $aname reacts too late, foot landing on the floor in front of the steps. Bright red sigils alight in the stone tiles, but $aname finds that $athey can’t move, a forceful magic rooting $athem in place. $cathey hears rather than sees the whistling of arrows, moments before a sudden gust of wind <em>tears</em> across the stone, shattering the ward that keeps $aname in place. $cathey reacts just in time, ducking the volley of arrows aimed at $athem and rolling to the side. $catheir gaze falls on the deep gash slashed across the floor, following its origin to find $rname standing in the center of the temple’s main hall. A ball of light hovers above, illuminating a large circle around $rthem, though it doesn’t reach every corner of the room. “Are you alright?” $rname hurries over as $aname rises to $atheir feet and dispels the light of $atheir aura. $rname appears oblivious to the deep frown on $aname’s face as $rthey checks for any injuries. The hands placed lightly on $aname’s shoulders are almost enough to dissuade $athem from scolding. Almost. “While I appreciate the assistance, what part of <em>stay close to me</em> was unclear to you?” $aname says with frustration. If anything, $athey should be the one checking $rname for injuries. $rname pauses in $rtheir fussing and blinks up at $aname, a look of guilt and apology settling on $rtheir face. “I’m so sorry, $aname, I got carried away. It’s only, when I heard the spirits crying out, I had to—” “Spirits?” $crthey nods. “Earth spirits. I just found them, they’ve been trapped here for years. All the quakes and disturbances in magic the villagers have experienced was a cry for help.” “How did earth spirits get trapped beneath the earth?” $aname questions, brows furrowing for a different reason this time. “Or the sand, as it were.” “I’ll show you.” $rname turns to wander off again, but this time, $aname makes sure to prevent it. Reflexively, $athey grabs $rname’s hand. $rname halts with surprise, turning to look at $aname with wide eyes. $aname, on the other hand, is frozen at $atheir own impulsive act. $cathey should have thought this one through, but $atheir foremost concern was to keep $rname close to $athem. “So I don’t lose you again,” $aname clarifies in an almost halting tone, glancing up at $rname’s face before looking away again. “Oh.” There’s a brief pause, but $rname doesn’t let go of $aname’s hand. If anything, $rthey holds onto $aname a little tighter. $crtheir skin is warm, radiating with the potential of magic simmering just beneath the surface. It leaves $aname’s fingers tingling with $rname’s signature, little sparks that travel up $atheir arm and leave goosebumps in their wake. “I’ll stay close,” $rname promises, $rtheir voice almost hushed as $rthey steps near, lingering right by $aname’s side. Nearly pressed into it. $aname peers at $rthem from the corner of $atheir eyes, finding $rname’s head lowered. $crtheir gaze is hidden by $rtheir long, pretty lashes, but an unmistakable smile is barely visible at the corner of $rtheir lips. Is $rthey doing this on purpose? A heartbeat rattles through the pulse in $aname’s hands, echoing the flutter in $atheir chest. The stagnant air in the temple suddenly feels stifling with warmth. $aname clears $atheir throat. “Where are they?” $rname glances at $athem, smile gone but the image of it not forgotten, and gently tugs $aname along by $atheir hand. $crthey leads the two of them toward the back of the temple’s main hall, and soon enough, $aname’s confusion is cleared up by the sight that greets $athem. The same red sigils glow on the ground—more dimly than they did for the trap $aname triggered—creating a translucent barrier in the form of a sphere. It imprisons three spirits flickering with faint green lights, though they are tainted by an almost sickly yellow hue. “How did this happen?” $aname asks, looking at the earth spirits with pity as they press up against the wall of the barrier once $athey and $rname appear in their view. A small rumble in the ground has the ceiling of the temple shaking, dust and bits of stone crumbling down around them. “Most likely, looters,” $rname guesses. “These spirits probably stayed here to guard the remains of the temple, and were trapped in a ward meant for intruders. The priest in charge should have gone back to look for them, but apparently didn’t bother.” Washed their hands off the matter as if they had no further responsibility to the spirits. A despicable act of neglect, but the issue now is to free them. “The barrier poses a problem,” $rname continues to explain. “I can’t destroy the ward without destroying the barrier first. I could overwhelm it with magic, but the explosion that would cause could bring the whole temple down on us.” And while the spirits would be perfectly fine, the same cannot be said for $rname and $aname. $aname considers the barrier for a moment, gaze falling on the sigils within it carved into the ground. “What about destroying the ward from underneath?” $rname follows $aname’s eyes, tilting $rtheir head thoughtfully. “Like digging up? It could work, and it should be less risky than causing an explosion. Let’s try it.” $crthey bends down, placing $rtheir palms flat on the earth. A look of concentration deepens the wrinkle between $rtheir brows, and after a moment of silence, the earth beneath the sigils violently give way. The tiles shatter as the earth beneath is forced upwards, tearing the ward apart. Finally, the barrier flickers out and disappears. The earth spirits fly apart through the temple in visible excitement, headed up the way $rname and $aname came towards the surface, while $rname rights $rthemselves and sighs. Another deep rumble in the earth shudders through the temple with the uncontrolled joy of the spirits. “The solution was so simple,” $rthey laments, while $aname is more distracted by the intensifying quakes beneath their feet. “If only someone had come to look for them sooner, this could’ve—” Somewhere, stone gives way. $aname hears the pillar falling towards them before $athey sees it, and doesn’t bother calling out a warning. $catheir aura heats inside $atheir muscles, a solid force fusing with $atheir body—within the blink of an eye, $athey picks $rname up and dashes out of the way, moments before the pillar hits the ground with an almighty sound. $rname’s arms wrap tightly around $aname’s shoulders in surprise, while $aname’s hands carry $rthem by $rtheir back and legs, holding $rthem close. $rname reacts just in time to counter the cloud of dust that swells up after the column’s collapse, pushing it away with another swirl of wind so they don’t both choke on it. “Alright?” $aname asks, and when $rname looks up at $athem $athey realizes how close their faces are. Close enough for $aname to make out each individual eyelash framing $rname’s bright eyes, lit by the ball of light still glowing above them. “Fine, thanks to you,” $rname replies softly, fingers curled warmly around the back of $aname’s neck. “This is why I keep telling you to stay close.” $aname speaks with no real admonishment behind $atheir words, $atheir eyes too distracted by a small mole on the left side of $rname’s chin, right beneath the plump curve of $rtheir lower lip. “I can’t protect you if you keep wandering off. I was getting worried, $rname.” $cathey never noticed it before, but then again, $athey’s never been this close to $rname before either. “I know.” $rname looks away, though $aname can’t tell whether it’s out of remorse or something that has more to do with the way they can feel each other’s breaths warm the space between them. “I’ll try not to do it again.” $aname can’t help $athemselves. $catheir lips tilt as $athey asks, a teasing tone to $atheir words, “I’m not so repulsive that you need to keep running away from me, am I?” “What? No!” $rname looks back up at $athem, flustered. “Not at all! I like—” $crthey catches $rthemselves, and though $aname can’t quite see in the murky shadows, the way $rname turns $rtheir head away illustrates $rtheir blush more than enough. “I enjoy your company very much, $aname,” $rthey admits quietly, a thumb brushing idly over the nape of $aname’s neck, the sensation shuddering down $atheir spine. $aname’s gaze flits over $rname’s face, somehow lovelier than $athey’s ever seen it before in the dim light of a forgotten temple, finding $atheir lips already parting to say something reckless— Another rumble travels through the earth. $aname remains steady, holding $rname firm in $atheir arms while $rname tightens $rtheir grip with a jolt, reminding them both that their current surroundings are most definitely <em>not</em> appropriate for whatever moment just passed between them. “We should leave,” $rname says. $crthey glances at the way $aname still holds $rthem. “Not that… not that I’m complaining, but are you—?” “Right.” $aname feels $atheir own face heat, quickly but gently lowering $rname to $rtheir feet. After a hesitant pause, $rname peeks up at $aname and shyly offers $rtheir hand again. “So I don’t wander off?” $aname smiles, and wraps their fingers together. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;In Between@@ $cdtheir consciousness comes and goes in flickers of light and sound. Through it all, there is a persistent pulsing of pain in $dtheir side. A spear, $dthey thinks with confusion, before dragging the memory back out of the mud of $dtheir mind—no, an arrow. It shattered $dtheir armor. The letter. “…in there, general!” There was a letter. “…healer… can…?” Half-waking, $dname can’t quite remember what it was about the letter. Why it’s so important, but it is. It carries an impression of something gold with it, though $dname isn’t in the state of mind to recall what exactly the gold is or why it makes $dtheir chest squeeze. Time passes indistinctly. Between $dtheir fleeting moments of waking, the sky above $dthem doesn’t seem to change much. Not from the glimpses $dname catches. There is always someone by $dtheir side, at times tilting $dtheir head up to make $dthem drink something that tastes like dirt, or simply to wipe the sweat from $dtheir brow to keep $dtheir skin cool. Slowly, gradually, the pain abates. For all the ache that is removed, however, it is replaced with fatigue. Though it does leave $dtheir mind clearer to understand what’s happening around $dthem. “…sent word to $ctheir Imperial Majesty?” A fog within $dname’s mind dissipates. “No, we can’t risk it being intercepted.” $name. There’s a pause in the conversation happening somewhere around $dname’s head—$dtheir eyes remained closed, too tired to open—before someone says, “Did $dthey… did $dthey mean the Crown?” Oh. $dname must have spoken out loud. “Don’t be ridiculous,” someone else replies. “The general would never refer to the Crown by $their name like that.” “I don’t know about that.” Whoever speaks sounds uncertain, even a little suspicious. “The physician said he found a letter addressed to the Crown beneath $dtheir armor. Why do you think—” “Hush!” The scolding is harsh, almost fearful. “You shouldn’t spread rumors like that. I’m sure the letter was about confidential matters.” “But, hiding it beneath <em>$dtheir armor</em>?” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep quiet about it. Do you want our general to be disparaged in court?” “No.” A sigh. “No, you’re right.” Anxiety coils tight in $dname’s stomach, causing a wave of nausea that has $dthem stirring, to the alarm of the two soldiers watching $dthem. $cdthey manages to save $dtheir dignity by not vomiting all over the wooden cart that wheels $dthem back toward Marabad, but only barely. The letter. $cdthey remembers it now, remembers what a terrible idea it had been. Clearly, now that it has been found by whatever healer attended to $dtheir wound. $cdthey tries to force $dtheir eyes open, to demand the healer burn the letter and swear secrecy regarding its contents, but $dtheir body refuses to cooperate. Soon enough, $dthey falls unconscious once more, and the matter of the letter and the soldiers’ conversation about it slips from $dtheir mind like wisps of smoke. But $name remains. Through bouts of fitful sleeping, confused waking, and growing dread, $name is the one constant in the back of $dtheir mind, the gold of $them made from the sun that follows $dname’s journey like a watchful guardian from high above, the only thing to grace $dtheir eyes whenever $dthey finds the power to open them, however briefly. $name is always there. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At Marabad's School of Magic@@ You stare at the list of names pinned to the board, crowded by your fellow students all trying to find their positions on the exam rankings. You’ve found yours already, but you don’t understand how, or why, you’ve been outscored. “Oh, I’m ranked twenty-fifth!” Siham says excitedly from beside you. “That’s a lot better than I was expecting. What about you, $name?” “Eleven,” you reply blankly, eyes sliding up to the name right above yours before you’re shouldered out of the way. A small group of your peers try to find their own names among the rankings, chattering animatedly among each other, ignorant of your immense disappointment. “That’s amazing,” Siham says as the two of you back away, but then notices the look on your face. “Or… perhaps not?” You sigh, knowing you have no reason to feel so annoyed. It’s only, for the past three years, you’ve made it your personal goal to break through the top ten ranked students one day. Your parents will both be delighted by this result regardless, as anyone would be, your father especially. Yet, back during his student days, Harun regularly placed in the top ten himself. You want to match that result at least once in order to feel as if you’ve accomplished something. It’s not out of pressure placed by you on your father—if anything, he has always tells you to focus on exploring what you enjoy, rather than fixating on exam results—but it’s an expectation you’ve placed on yourself, through your own ambition. It was within your grasp after months of preperation and studying, only to be inched out of the accomplishment by the student ranked tenth. A name you’ve seen regularly appear in the top five. If anything, this result is low for their standards. $rname. You frown, mind made up, and start approaching a few students loitering around the hallway. Siham follows after you with confusion. “Excuse me,” you say to two students, catching their attention. “Do either of you happen to know $rname?” “$rname?” They exchange a look, one of them replying, “I think I saw $rthem looking over $rtheir notes in the lecture hall at the other end of the corridor. $crthey might still be there, if you want to find $rthem.” “Thank you.” Siham hurries after you with growing bewilderment as you march off. “$name, what are you doing?” “I’m going to speak to $rname,” you reply, refusing to elaborate further as your eyes hone in on the door to the lecture hall a short distance away. Once you reach the door, Siham stays behind, looking a little nervous as you enter the lecture hall. You find $rname instantly, $rtheir back turned to you as $rthey sits at the very front of the empty lecture hall, even the professor having left. Or, that’s who you assume it to be, since you’ve never actually seen $rname before. $crthey doesn’t seem to notice you as you look $rthem over, attention briefly drawn by the cascade of thick, silky black hair falling down $rtheir back. $crtheir tresses are so long that $rthey has swept the ends of it up across $rtheir lap to keep them from dragging over the floor. Straightening your shoulders, you cross the lecture hall. Even your footsteps don’t seem to catch $rtheir notice, with how absorbed $rthey appears in $rtheir reading. “$rname?” you ask, determined to compare your answers on the exam and figure out where you went wrong. That resolve crumbles instantly the moment $rname turns $rtheir head and looks over $rtheir shoulder. $crtheir silvery gray eyes seem just as flustered as you are as $rthey looks back at you, pretty lashes fluttering once as $rthey blinks, gently brushing the top of $rtheir cheeks. $crthey’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid your eyes on. “Yes?” $rthey says, voice soft, almost breathy in its sound. For a moment, you’re completely speechless. “Is there something you needed?” $rthey asks when you remain quiet, starting to look puzzled by your presence. What are you <em>doing</em>? You shake off whatever trance you were just caught in, trying to recover your composure as you clear your throat, then say, “My name is $name, I go by $they.” $crthey gives you a small smile, almost a touch shy. It’s incredibly endearing. “A pleasure to meet you, $name.” “Yes,” you say for lack of a better response. Your mind is in utter shambles. This is not what you expected $rname to be like, at all. You were convinced $rthey’d be no different from the other snobby, elitist top students who always look down their noses at everyone. But $rname’s gaze is open and inviting—not to mention, once again, $rthey’s <em>breathtakingly</em> gorgeous. “So, how can I help you?” $rname prompts when you remain silent, and you nearly kick yourself. “The exam,” you blurt out, frowning in an attempt to remind yourself of your frustration when heading over here. “I was wondering, if you had the time, whether we could compare notes.” $rname brightens. “Really? That would be very helpful, actually. Come, sit!” $crthey scoots over on the bench. Your face feels like it’s being heated by a thousand candles. “I scored lower than you did,” you say, though you slide to sit down beside $rthem anyway, glancing over at Siham in the doorway. He smiles and gives you a wave, before disappearing from view. “Still, you might have some insight I hadn’t considered in my own answers,” $rname replies, not having noticed the exchange as $rthey was fixated on $rtheir notes again. “For example, the question about elemental harmonies, how did you describe the theory behind it? I explained it as such…” $rname points to $rtheir notes, explaining $rtheir answer in a depth you haven’t even heard the professors explore during your lectures, and you end up entranced for more than one reason. Maybe ranking eleventh was actually a blessing in disguise. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Select whether your Crown is flirtatious or reserved in this scene: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Flirtatious|X ROM 1 flirt]]</li> <li>[[Reserved|X ROM 1 res]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;House of Roses@@ The fragrant scent of floral perfume permeates the air as you are guided through the halls of the pleasure house by a warm hand in yours. You’ve never been in one before, but that doesn’t stop $xname from pulling you every which way, excited to show you all that the place has to offer. “This is where the sculptors work,” $xthey says as $xthey leads you to an open doorway. You follow, peering into a room where you see a small crowd of patrons gathered to watch said sculptor, shaping the marble feathers of an eagle statue in progress with their bare hands—as if molding it like clay. The artist takes a step back to regard their work with a critical eye, then plucks a needle from their belt. To your amazement, they begin to carve every individual pluck of feather with it, scraping away marble with ease. The patrons present murmur in hushed tones about the artist’s technique, but keep a respectful distance. “Do all artists know how to use magic?” you ask $xname. “Not all,” $xname considers, “but the ones in the biggest pleasure houses do. The House of Roses has an arrangement with the School of Magic in Marabad to educate promising young artists.” $cxthey tugs on your hand again. “Come along, I have much more to show you!” The next room is one of musicians, giving a performance in a large hall to a large audience. There dancers here as well, but they do not use illusions as they did during your coronation. Still, it’s equally pleasant to watch them step and spin in tune with the music. In another room you find painters, creating murals and manipulating the paint in order to make their drawings move as they tell a story to a small group of patrons. Another room holds a poet, reciting an epic that seems to be so touching that it has at least two patrons weeping openly. Yet another room holds a trio of artists performing spells, creating shapes of snakes and lions and elephants in the air formed with an array of colorful light. “Is there anything this place doesn’t have?” you ask in amazement as the tour continues, and $xname grins at you. “A charming mercenary, for one?” $xthey suggests, and you huff in amusement. You’re about to head up a flight of stairs on your left when $xname stops you. “The upper floors are not for casual visits,” $xthey cautions you, though the mischief in $xtheir eyes suggests it’s not a true warning. You arch your brows. “What does that mean?” “The ground floor is meant for more—” $cxthey searches for the word, “intellectual pursuits. The upper floor, however, concerns the carnal.” “Oh. I see.” You cast another glance at the stairs, then back at $xname. “Is it forbidden to go up there?” $xname squeezes your hand, though $xtheir demeanor remains deceptively relaxed, belying the intensity that awakens in $xtheir gaze. “This section should allow visitors. For patrons who have particular tastes.” “What kinds of tastes?” you dare ask and $xname leans closer, the simple act flushing your skin with warmth beneath your garments. “Exhibitionist ones,” $xthey murmurs between the two of you like a secret, heating the very air between the two of you. “They don’t use any silencing wards up there. Well? Still want to go?” “I admit, I’m curious,” you say, having never visited a pleasure house before and thus having never seen any such public displays. The idea of it intrigues you. “Just curious?” $xname teases. “Not… excited?” You breathe out a low laugh, shaking your head as you head up the stairs, this time being the one to pull $xname along by $xtheir hand. “You should already know, $xname, that it takes a lot more than that to <em>excite</em> me.” A little taunt thrown $xtheir way, if $xthey’s so intent on challenging you. As soon as you reach the first landing, presumably passing through a silencing ward, you begin to hear what $xname was talking about. There is a cacophony of sounds and noises—moaning, sighing, grunting, even one instance of <em>shouting</em> with delight—that have you intimately aware of what is going on behind each of the doors of the dimly lit corridor stretching out before you. You even see a few other patrons wandering around. Some peer through latticed windows that offer a view into the rooms, each of which has a guard standing watch. Remarkably stoically, but you suppose they’d grow used to the sounds after a certain point. You glance over at $xname, who looks entirely unaffected by all of this. Instead, $xthey’s watching your reaction with no small amount of amusement. “Did you want to take a peek?” $xthey asks, and you smile back at $xthem. “Did you?” you retort. “Oh, please.” $xname shifts closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “A single smile from you is much more satisfying than any views this place has to offer.” Before you can reply, one of the artists that works here comes walking up the stairs with a tray and you move aside to let them through, glimpsing two water pitchers as well as multiple glass bottles filled with what looks like various oils, and a stack of small wooden boxes. From the shape and length of the boxes you can guess rather easily what they might hold. You can see the moment an idea dawns on $xname’s face from the way $xtheir brows arch, gaze on the tray. “Would you like to rest in another room?” $xthey suggests to you, innocent on the surface despite the way $xtheir hand lingers on your lower back. “There’s a quiet section on the opposite wing. The rooms are all spelled with silencing wards.” “Something tells me resting is not the only thing you have in mind,” you reply subtly—it doesn’t take sensory abilities for you to recognize the blatant hunger in $xname’s gaze. “Maybe not,” $xthey replies, leaning closer to whisper into your ear, “if you’d be willing to indulge me.” You take a breath, heart beating fast with anticipation, then reply, “Lead the way.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;House of Roses@@ The fragrant scent of floral perfume permeates the air as you are guided through the halls of the pleasure house by a warm hand in yours. You’ve never been in one before, but that doesn’t stop $xname from pulling you every which way, excited to show you all that the place has to offer. “This is where the sculptors work,” $xthey says as $xthey leads you to an open doorway. You follow, peering into a room where you see a small crowd of patrons gathered to watch said sculptor, shaping the marble feathers of an eagle statue in progress with their bare hands—as if molding it like clay. The artist takes a step back to regard their work with a critical eye, then plucks a needle from their belt. To your amazement, they begin to carve every individual pluck of feather with it, scraping away marble with ease. The patrons present murmur in hushed tones about the artist’s technique, but keep a respectful distance. “Do all artists know how to use magic?” you ask $xname. “Not all,” $xname considers, “but the ones in the biggest pleasure houses do. The House of Roses has an arrangement with the School of Magic in Marabad to educate promising young artists.” $cxthey tugs on your hand again. “Come along, I have much more to show you!” The next room is one of musicians, giving a performance in a large hall to a large audience. There dancers here as well, but they do not use illusions as they did during your coronation. Still, it’s equally pleasant to watch them step and spin in tune with the music. In another room you find painters, creating murals and manipulating the paint in order to make their drawings move as they tell a story to a small group of patrons. Another room holds a poet, reciting an epic that seems to be so touching that it has at least two patrons weeping openly. Yet another room holds a trio of artists performing spells, creating shapes of snakes and lions and elephants in the air formed with an array of colorful light. “Is there anything this place doesn’t have?” you ask in amazement as the tour continues, and $xname grins at you. “A charming mercenary, for one?” $xthey suggests, and you huff in amusement. You’re about to head up a flight of stairs on your left when $xname stops you. “The upper floors are not for casual visits,” $xthey cautions you, though the mischief in $xtheir eyes suggests it’s not a true warning. You arch your brows. “What does that mean?” “The ground floor is meant for more—” $cxthey searches for the word, “intellectual pursuits. The upper floor, however, concerns the carnal.” “Oh. I see.” You cast another glance at the stairs, then back at $xname. “Is it forbidden to go up there?” $xname squeezes your hand, though $xtheir demeanor remains deceptively relaxed, belying the intensity that awakens in $xtheir gaze. “This section should allow visitors. For patrons who have particular tastes.” “What kinds of tastes?” you dare ask and $xname leans closer, the simple act flushing your skin with warmth beneath your garments. “Exhibitionist ones,” $xthey murmurs between the two of you like a secret, heating the very air between the two of you. “They don’t use any silencing wards up there. Well? Still want to go?” “I am… curious,” you admit, almost embarrassed to say so. It had taken you a while to be comfortable discussing your <em>own</em> dalliances with $xname when you first entered into a courtship, let alone bearing witness to those of others. $xname merely smirks, doing you the mercy of not teasing you and pulling on your hand instead, once more to guide you up the steps. “Let’s see if we can sate your curiosity, then.” As soon as you reach the first landing, presumably passing through a silencing ward, you begin to hear what $xname was talking about. There is a cacophony of sounds and noises—moaning, sighing, grunting, even one instance of <em>screaming</em> with delight—that have you intimately aware of what is going on behind each of the doors of the dimly lit corridor stretching out before you. To your shock, you even see a few other patrons wandering around. Some peer through latticed windows that offer a view into the rooms, each of which has a guard standing watch. Remarkably stoically, but you suppose they’d grow used to the sounds after a certain point. You glance over at $xname, who looks entirely unaffected by all of this. Instead, $xthey’s watching your reaction with no small amount of amusement. “Did you want to take a peek?” $xthey asks, and you nearly sputter for a response. “No!” You can hardly think of what else to say, utterly distracted by the obscene noises echoing through the corridors. One of the artists that works here comes walking up the stairs with a tray and you move aside to let them through, glimpsing two water pitchers as well as various glass bottles filled with what looks like various oils. Your whole head feels hot. $xname laughs at your staring, shifting closer to your side to wrap an arm around your waist. “There’s a quiet section on the opposite wing, if you’d prefer to take a rest there. The rooms are all spelled with silencing wards.” You eye $xthem suspiciously. “Just to rest?” “Among other things.” $xname leans in to whisper in your ear. “Like if you needed to sate your hunger. Of course, we’d need to go through this wing first.” This is the one thing you don’t think you will ever get used to: $xname’s sensory ability, leaving you bare in all ways. You take a breath in a futile attempt to calm your pounding heart, then reply, “Lead the way.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;As a Mercenary@@ Blades clash in a deafening sound of metal ringing through the forest, flames sparking from a bone-white sword as it meets your own. “Any chance you’d be willing to split the reward?” You glare back at the Pale Sword, ducking a swipe from $xtheir dagger wielded in $xtheir offhand, and kick dirt up into $xtheir eyes. $xname recoils against the cloud of dust. “Oh, so it’s going to be like that, huh?” You dart away, chasing your quarry while $xthey’s distracted: a monstrous wolf that has harassed local cattle and thinned the deer population to dangerously low numbers. You reach the top of a small outcropping, spotting the wolf’s white fur through the trees below, bounding away from you. Putting your sword away, you reach for your bow, nocking an arrow as you take aim— A weight crashes into you from behind, sending both you and $xname rolling down the small hill. You manage to grab onto one of $xtheir arms as $xthey grapples you in return, miraculously managing to avoid hitting any trees as you come to a stop on flat ground on your sides. You try to knee $xname in the gut but $xthey rolls away from you, scrambling up to $xtheir feet to hunt down the wolf. Grabbing $xtheir ankle, you yank and trip $xthem onto $xtheir front, $xname catching $xthemselves onto $xtheir forearms. “Would you give it a rest?” $xthey calls after you as you get up to your feet first and start to run. $cxthey sets chase not soon after, but you’ve already come to a stop by then. The wolf has disappeared from sight. You turn an annoyed gaze on $xname. “Good going, hero. The wolf escaped.” “I would have taken care of it if you hadn’t insisted on your little pissing contest,” $xname snipes back with a huff. “You lone sellswords always have such a chip on your shoulder.” “As opposed to you, glory hog?” $xname gives you an incredulous look. “Glory hog? First of all—” $cxthey freezes, gaze darting off to the side. Before you can react, $xthey tackles you—huge, clawed paws miss your head by an inch as the wolf jumps over the two of you, $xname’s weight pressing you into the ground, arm protectively hovering over you. The wolf rounds on you both, teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. “Still against the idea of working together?” $xname asks in a deceptively casual tone, keeping $xtheir eyes on the wolf. You let out a soft breath. “Might not be such a bad idea.” $xname cautiously gets up, pointing $xtheir sword to the wolf and drawing its attention while you get up to your feet. “By the way,” $xthey says conversationally, as if you don’t have a vicious predator staring you both down, “there’s an open spot on the Crescent Blades, if you were interested.” You take your own sword in hand, standing side by side. “Not even in your wildest dreams, Pale Sword.” <<back>><</div>>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;As a Soldier@@ “Lieutenant, the general has asked for you!” You lift your helmeted head, having been in the midst of practicing basic sword strikes on a phantom in the training yard, when called away by one of your comrades. Returning your practice sword to the weapons rack, you follow your fellow soldier as they accompany you to General $dname’s quarters in the fortress where you’re currently stationed. Some of the Sacati tribes in the north have been testing Rojan’s borders, necessitating the Imperial Army’s presence here. Your companion glances at you with unspoken curiosity—a look you’re not unfamiliar with. Having joined the army only five years ago, you’ve already worked your way up the ranks in a steady climb, to the point where the High General $dthemselves has taken notice. “There $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>go<<else>>goes<</if>>,” you hear a few others murmur as you pass them by when entering the halls of the fortress. “The general as summoned $dtheir favorite for a strategy meeting. Think we’ll be heading out to battle soon?” “I’d bet on it, if $name is getting called on.” You ignore the murmurs as best you can; you’ve proven your mettle in battle and your tactical wit plenty of times. As much as some might look on you with envy or disdain, your comrades—and your general—recognize your accomplishments. Arriving at the general’s office, the soldier that accompanied you knocks on the door. “I’ve brought Lieutenant $name, general!” The general replies, voice slightly muffled: “Let $them in.” You open the door to the office, spotting the general hunched over a map that’s spread across $dtheir desk. $cdthey doesn’t look at you as you step inside and close the door behind you, $dtheir brow furrowed deep in thought. “General,” you greet, giving a quick salute with fist to chest as you approach $dthem at the desk. “You asked for me?” Finally, $dname lifts $dtheir eyes from the map, straightening $dtheir back as $dthey looks at you. You pretend not to notice the way $dtheir gaze lingers, and $dthey tears it away soon enough $dthemselves to look back down at the map of Rojan below you. “The bulk of the western Sacati tribes are headed for this mountain pass,” $dthey says, gesturing at one of the narrow pathways through the Armas Mountains. You arch your brows. “Then the forces we spotted climbing up the eastern hills—” “A decoy.” The corner of $dname’s mouth tenses as $dthey gestures to the hills and mountainous terrain where the peaks of the Armas Mountains are lower in elevation. “A considerable decoy, and a considerable gamble. They dedicated a third of all their warriors to the trap.” “That is a <em>dangerous</em> decoy, general,” you reply, resting a hand onto the table to lean over the map beside $dthem. “If they make it past the hills, that’s still a sizable force to…” Your arm brushes $dname’s, words nearly faltering, but you recover moments later. “…to have within Rojan’s borders.” $dname glances at you from the corner of $dtheir eyes, a beat late in $dtheir reply: “I agree, but I do not know if Rojan’s provincial army will make it there in time. We may need to split part of the Imperial Army to meet them there.” You pull away from the desk. “I can lead the group to deal with the decoy.” “Are you sure, lieutenant?” $dname turns to face you fully. “You may be outnumbered if the provincial army doesn’t arrive. I would not ask you to—” “You don’t need to ask me.” You meet $dtheir eyes. “I’m volunteering.” $dname’s lips part again, but then close as $dthey averts $dtheir eyes. $cdtheir jaw ticks, tension tight in $dtheir features, before $dthey finally exhales a sigh. “Very well.” $cdthey dismisses you not soon after the strategy meeting, but as you leave the room, $dthey stops you. “$name.” You freeze at the sound of your name, your back turned to $dthem. “Be careful,” $dname says, and you look over your shoulder at $dthem. Briefly, you muster a smile. “I’ll be back before you know it, $dname.” It is the only thing you can allow yourself, before you leave and close the door behind you. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;As a Soldier@@ The campfire’s light casts an orange glow across your forearm, shining in the blood still clinging to torn flesh. You lift your arm up further to examine the long gash, wincing when the movement pulls on the skin and sends pinpricks of pain piercing through the injured limb. It’s not bleeding as much anymore after you put some pressure on it, but you can hardly leave it unattended. Unfortunately for you, all the healers in the camp are tending to your comrades who are more gravely injured, after the ambush you suffered while marching back to rejoin the bulk of the Imperial Army in Zerat. No doubt their healing auras will be spent before any of them can tend to you. You will have to use a common healing poultice and hope it will be enough to prevent infection while the wound closes up. Just as you start to move from the log you were seated on to head for the healer’s tent, another soldier joins you by the fire. “Lieutenant,” $aname greets quietly, holding a roll of cloth bandages in $atheir hand, as well as a small clay cup filled with a pinkish herbal paste that smells like honey and flowers, the surface glittering a soft gold with concentrated magic. “Captain.” You cast $athem a look of surprise. “I thought you were on patrol?” $aname’s eyes avoid yours, flitting down to your injured arm instead. $cathey gently pulls it towards $athem, and you take the hint, holding it out for $athem to tend to as you try to ignore the gentle tide of warmth swelling in your chest. “I asked someone to swap with me.” $cathey doesn’t elaborate further. $aname is the Crown’s Royal Protector in name only, as one has yet to be found. You’ve served with $athem even before $athey was granted the position, meeting in the heat of your first battle against bandits where $athey saved you from an arrow and you saved $athem from a dagger in the back. The two of you have been in countless fights together ever since, naturally gravitating towards each other, operating on an unspoken agreement to watch each other’s backs—and possibly more, but that’s not something you have ever acted on. Despite the implicit trust between the two of you, the thought that $aname might leave at any moment should the Crown be found stops you from initiating anything, and $athey seems similarly hesitant to take it further. There’s also the possibility that the Crown might <em>never</em> be found, but you would never wish that upon the country. Even if it would keep $aname by your side. While you ponder the matter, $aname carefully spreads the poultice onto your cut. You try not to wince at the initial contact, gritting your teeth while $athey pinches the wound closed and waits for the poultice to do its work. “You did well back there,” $athey speaks, the unexpected praise lifting your gaze back up to $atheir face, finding $athem looking back at you. The light of the fire gives an almost amber glow to $atheir eyes, and you find yourself staring. “Lieutenant?” $aname prompts when you stay silent, and you blink, averting your gaze as you clear your throat. “I only did my duty.” You look back down at your slowly closing wound, the pain lessened and the magic tingling through your arm. It feels almost numb, but that means the poultice is doing its job. “You always do, but that’s why I’ve been thinking…” $aname trails off for a moment, sounding hesitant. You glance at $athem. “Thinking what?” $aname doesn’t reply immediately, gradually letting go of your arm now that the gash has closed up, reaching for the bandages to start wrapping it for you. “Do you always intend on serving in the Imperial Army?” The question confuses you. “For now, I suppose. At least so long as the realm remains unstable.” “But if there was a better way to serve?” $aname continues, gently coiling the bandage around your forearm. “Say, if the Crown were found.” You don’t follow, brows furrowing at the reminder. “What are you asking me, $aname?” Finally, $athey takes a breath, looking back up to meet your eyes. “What if I asked you to join the Imperial Guards?” Your mouth opens, then closes, finding yourself astonished. The Imperial Guards are under $aname’s command currently, but they’re part of the Imperial Army without a Crown to serve. If one were found, having a position among the guards would regain its importance. It would also mean serving <em>under</em> $aname, unlike now, where you’re relatively equal in rank as $athey was a lieutenant as well, before $atheir promotion. But you don’t mind the prospect at all, because it would mean you could stay together. “I’d need people I can trust by my side,” $aname goes on, having taken your silence as hesitance, a sincere light brightening $atheir eyes, “and there’s no one I trust more than you, $name. The offer might become irrelevant if the Crown is never found, but they could also appear any day now. If you need time to think about it—” “I would accept.” $aname goes quiet, eyes widening slightly. “If the Crown were found,” you clarify a moment later, heart beating fast, “I would accept.” You look down at $aname’s fingers holding onto your arm, having stilled with the bandage half-wrapped around your wound as you add softly, “I would follow you anywhere, captain.” You see $aname’s thumb move across your skin before you fully feel it, the softest caress that leaves goosebumps in their wake, before $athey continues to wrap your wound. “Thank you, lieutenant,” $athey murmurs into the tender silence between the two of you, warmed by the fire. Your wound no longer hurts. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Back in Rojan@@ When $dname opens $dtheir eyes and sees $name’s face hovering above $dtheirs, calling $dtheir name, $dthey is convinced it is another dream. $cdthey must still be on the road, being transported by $dtheir soldiers. There is no other explanation why $name should be beside $dthem now, seeing to $dtheir wounds with such tender care. The Crown, surely, would have more pressing matters to attend to rather than play physician for $dname’s sake. Then again, $dname knows $name isn’t what most would expect from a Crown, not having been raised with the rules and expectations that would’ve confined $them. “Can you sit up a little?” $dname’s vision of $name asks, pulling $dthem from $dtheir thoughts. “I should reapply your poultice.” $dname can’t deny how lifelike $their voice is, as if $name were truly here, sitting by $dname’s side. It’s not something $dname should hope for, $dthey knows, but $dthey can’t repress the longing that swells in $dtheir chest as $dthey closes $dtheir eyes. Once $dthey reopens them, $dthey expects $name to be gone, but $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> still there. “Am I dreaming?” $dname finally asks, and $name laughs. The sound is vivid and unmistakable, ringing through $dname’s ears like a siren’s call. “No, you’re not dreaming.” $name shifts a little closer on—a bed? One that $dname is on. Another comfort $dtheir mind must have imagined. “I’m here.” “To apply medicine?” $dname snorts, closing $dtheir eyes once more. “A likely story.” There is a slight pause. “What do you mean?” “You’re here because I long for it,” $dname mutters, eyes still closed, able to be honest now when it is only $dthem speaking to the conjurings of $dtheir own mind. “A dream to soothe me.” Though for a dream, it is quite chaste—almost <em>reserved</em>. If $dname’s subconscious wished to comfort $dthem, $dthey would’ve expected a vision of $name cradling $dtheir face with a gentle grip, waking $dthem with a kiss. It’s what $dname would’ve preferred, in any case, rather than this strange tension that reminds $dthem too much of how things are in the waking world. It was an initial attraction that gradually deepened over time, slowly turning into a fondness that would be unwise for both of them to ever act on. Apparently, $dname’s sensitivity to it is so great that $dthey restrains even $dtheir dreams from giving $dthem what $dthey truly desires to explore. $cdthey can feel the potential of it beneath $dtheir fingertips, yet it’s simultaneously out of $dtheir reach. Had circumstances been different, $dname wouldn’t have hesitated to approach $name, to give them both the chance to see where it could lead. But that is not reality, and $dname knows better than to let what could be a temporary flight of fancy ruin both of their lives, not to mention destabilize the Empire. Even if $dtheir mother’s disgrace had not cautioned $dthem, the Eighth Crown is not called <em>Love-blind</em> Jiyan as a compliment. One need look only at the reigns of previous Crowns to see why a relationship between the Crown and one of their military commanders is a terrible idea, one that has become a taboo in court precisely due to previous disasters that were born from it. $dname refuses to let history condemn $name in the same way, not if $dthey can help it. But that doesn’t make it easy. $cdthey shifts on the bed, the tension in $dtheir back feeling uncomfortable as $dthey ruminates on the matter. As soon as $dthey starts to squirm, $dthey hears a movement, followed by a gentle touch on $dtheir wrist, pulling it. “Here, let me help.” $dname’s heart flutters with the realization that $name truly <em>is</em> here. Without $dtheir armor on, $dthey can feel the magic in $name’s fingers much more clearly, glowing with radiant warmth right beneath the surface— $cdthey sucks in a quiet breath, eyes opening as $dthey suppresses the instinctive urge of $dtheir body to pull it in, to taste it. Like the withered flowers of $dtheir vines, the natural chemistry of $dtheir earth magic seeks the sun with pure <em>necessity</em>. It feels, suddenly, as if $dname has languished in the dark for years, and only now has been allowed a glimpse of what $dthey needs to survive. The overwhelming instinct is only placated by the herbal paste $name kindly spreads across $dname’s inner wrist, feeding $dthem the natural magic that $dthey needs to recover and flush the poison from $dtheir system. $name watches $dname’s vines come to life with wonder, rejuvenated and blooming once more along $dtheir arm. When their gazes meet, and $dname murmurs a quiet word of thanks, $dthey almost wishes this <em>had</em> been a dream. $cdthey is much weaker to $name than $dthey feared. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Back in Rojan@@ $xname expected many things to happen the moment $name walked through that door and confronted $xthem about $xtheir attack on Mîr Behram’s palace. Anger, disapproval, accusation—even after $xname clarified why $xthey had to do it, would not be able to live with $xthemselves if $xthey hadn’t, $xthey still did not think it would change $name’s response. $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> the Crown, after all, and $their priorities and loyalties must always be to power—to $their own position—rather than to justice. At least, that’s what $xname thought. $cxthey can hardly believe $xtheir ears when $xthey is proven wrong. $name’s anger fades, understanding filling in the gaps. Even $their ire itself is not because $they perceived the attack on Behram as an attack on the authority of the Crown, but because $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>were<<else>>was<</if>> concerned for $xname. Worried for $xtheir safety, anxious about the consequences of the act should $xname be identified as the attacker. Hurt because $xname did not trust $them with the plan, going so far as to say $they only wanted to protect $xname. It beggars belief, and yet, $xname finds $xthemselves desperately <em>wanting</em> to believe it. $cxthey doesn’t think $name is lying—$xtheir sensing ability cannot distinguish truth from lies merely based on physical cues—but perhaps it’s wishful thinking on $xtheir part. “Whatever this is between us,” $xname says, holding $xtheir hope between $xtheir lips, “I want to give it a chance, but…” “But what?” “You can’t be the Crown to me.” Tension hardens in $xtheir shoulders, in $xtheir spine, eyes watchful of $name’s reaction. Another test of sorts, or perhaps more like a request: <em>I want to trust you, give me reason to</em>. “I will listen to you and I will be honest with you, because I care for you and I’m fond of <em>you</em>, $name. But I can’t submit to the Crown. Not anymore, not after everything.” $name is silent for a while, though $their gaze is still attentive as it flits across $xname’s face. The gold of it is brighter in the dimming light of the room now that the sun has started to set, and it almost feels warm on $xname’s skin. “You seem lost in thought,” $xname prompts, taking a more lighthearted tone, wondering if $xthey asked for too much, too soon. “Here I am pouring my heart out while you’re halfway across the continent. What are you daydreaming about?” “I was thinking that you’re beautiful.” $xname almost laughs in surprise, smothering the urge at the last moment as $xtheir brows lift with amusement. That is just about the <em>last</em> thing $xthey expected $name to say, but then, $xtheir looks do tend to be quite distracting. “Why, thank you.” “Not only the way you look,” $name is quick to clarify. “The way you are is beautiful.” Yet another thing $xname did not expect; $name seems fond of surprising $xthem in every which way. “What way would that be?” “Proud, and compassionate.” Admiration alights in $name’s eyes as $they look<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> into $xname’s. “Devoted, whether it be to those you love or the beliefs you hold. Free in what you feel, and how you feel it. I would never make you yield to me, $xname. I want you as you are, unbowed.” Emotion swells in his throat as $xname feels, for an instant, as if $xthey has been understood to the very core of $xtheir being. As if $name reached into $xtheir chest, plucked out $xtheir heart, looked to see what was inside, and then pressed a kiss to it with complete and unconditional acceptance. It’s terrifying—it’s <em>enrapturing</em>. $cxthey does not and cannot know with any certainty, but $xthey hopes dearly that $name isn’t lying. That $they mean<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> every words $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>have<<else>>has<</if>> said, because if $they do<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>>, if $xname can truly trust $name like $xthey wants to— Then $xthey knows it will only be a matter of time until $xthey falls in love. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;After the Fire@@ How did $aname get it all so wrong? “You’re clearly upset with me.” $cathey stares back at $name in this moment, and wonders if $athey was truly so deeply mistaken in thinking it would be different this time. That past wrongs wouldn’t be repeated, that they all would have learned from history. That $aname knew better than to be blinded again. “Upset,” $aname repeats, the scoff leaving $atheir lips with venom. “I wish it were that straightforward. No, the person I’m most upset with is myself—for ever thinking I could trust you as my Crown.” The words cut, $aname can see it on $name’s face, and $athey intends them to. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t bring $athem any pleasure, but $name needs to know how great of a mistake $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>have<<else>>has<</if>> made. “If you want the truth of it, $aname,” $name speaks eventually, voice quiet as $they meet<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $aname's eyes, “I chose not to search through the houses because I was worried for you. In that moment, your life was more important to me than theirs.” Not again. Not again. <em>Not again</em>. “You think—” $aname's words leave in a hiss of breath, pain flickering across $atheir face before $athey locks it away with an incredulous laugh, even as $atheir heart splits open in $atheir chest, torn in two. “You think that makes it better? That you did it for me?” Those innocent citizens were put in danger because the Crown cared too much for $aname to prioritize their safety. Had they died, in the end, their blood would’ve been on $aname’s hands in turn, however indirectly. Killed in a fire because their ruler weighed their lives against that of $aname’s, and decided that $aname’s was heavier on the scales. More worth saving, more worth protecting. It makes $aname sick to $atheir stomach. Suddenly $athey is a <<if $agender is 'male'>>boy<<else>>girl<</if>> again, barely nineteen years of age—father dead, mother dead, sister missing—listening to Keko tell $athem about the things Crown Piruz did, the things he ordered to be done. Blood both shed and spilled in his name. $name is not like Crown Piruz, nowhere near it. But this is the first glimpse $aname has gotten that warns: $they <em>could</em> be. $cthey could become it, if $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>do<<else>>does<</if>> not learn from this. “Not <em>for</em> you, just…” $name searches for the words. “I thought you were in danger.” “I’m a trained soldier.” $aname’s jaw clenches, taking a breath through $atheir lips before continuing. “Those people you left behind were defenseless citizens.” “They were rescued in the end, they—” “They could’ve died!” Anger escapes $athem, the only way to cover the pain beneath. The pain and the fear. “They very nearly did die!” $name’s own voice raises in return. “I couldn’t risk your life! What would you have had me do?” “Trust that I could handle myself, and save the people you swore to protect!” $aname shoots back, pointing at the smoke in the distance. “They could have suffocated in there, they could’ve <em>burned to death</em> all because you judged my life worth more than theirs.” “But you are—” $cathey can’t. “Don’t.” $aname averts $atheir eyes, steps back, recoils with visceral revulsion, feeling it deep within $atheir very core—calling to those memories of finding out the truth. Of realizing the shame of $atheir own ignorance. The complicity, regardless of how young and ignorant $athey was. “Please, just don’t.” $cathey inhales deeply as $athey wipes away some soot from $atheir cheek with $atheir sleeve, exhaling it again in a hiss of breath. Trying to calm $athemselves, recollect $athemselves before $atheir past hurt gets the better of $athem. $name made a mistake, true, but—and $aname thanks the Sky itself for this—no one died. Nothing was done that cannot be rectified or taken back. And it’s not fair to project $aname’s guilt regarding $atheir own father onto $name, either. $cathey knows that, even if $atheir emotions escaped $athem in the moment. $name is $their own person, and so early in $their reign as Crown. $cthey can recover from this, learn from this and grow, but $aname has to give $name the opportunity for that first. “You’re the Crown, $name.” $aname finally speaks, meeting $name’s eyes again. “You can’t act solely on your own desires anymore.” Not even—and perhaps especially not—if it’s for $aname. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Making Time@@ $dname knows, better than anyone, how busy $name is. $cdthey $dthemselves isn’t exactly drowning in spare time, either, but they both promised each other at the beginning of their courtship that they would always try their best to have their moments to spend together. In a way, it’s almost easier when $dname is away from the palace, traveling through the land for one purpose or another; at least then there is the anticipation of return and reunion, able to take heart that they would see each other again. When one, or both, of them become too busy while $dname remains at home, however, it’s somehow more difficult. Sometimes entire days will pass where they only see each other in the mornings and then again right before bed, only able to exchange a few words before the exhaustion of the day overtakes them. This time, it’s $name who is swamped with daily affairs—so it’s up to $dname to seek $them out as much as $dthey can. However, that’s easier said than done. $dname periodically passes by $name’s personal study throughout the day, but every time $dthey visits $dthey finds $name in a private talk with some official or another. Even after the usually scheduled meeting, where $dname will be waiting outside the doors to see $name and speak to $them, $name will be immediately beset by various people who need $their urgent attention. “I’m sorry, love,” $name says, arms wrapping around $dname’s waist at the end of the day and pulling $dthem into a soothing embrace. “Let’s have breakfast together tomorrow, alright?” Of course, their breakfast is interrupted when one of the Imperial Guards comes rushing in to inform the Crown about a situation in the city—an altercation at the marketplace that turned into a clash between citizens and several magi—and both $dname and $name have to attend to it. The chaos escalates for several days, until the only time $dname even speaks to $name is during court meetings. By the end of the week, once everything has calmed again, $dname has run out of patience. $cdthey waits in one of the hallways of the palace, part of the usual route $dthey knows $name takes from the smaller throne room to $their personal study several times a day. As soon as $name turns a corner, eyes lighting up with delight at seeing $dname, $dname takes $them by the hand and tugs $them into the nearest sitting room. “$dname!” $name’s eyes go wide as $dname all but pens $them in, $name’s back pressed against the door. $ctheir surprise quickly melts into amusement and fondness both at seeing the look on $dname’s face. “Couldn’t resist anymore?” “My apologies,” $dname says shortly, lifting to cradle the side of $name’s face with $dtheir palm, thumb running along $name’s cheekbone. $name’s eyes flutter with appreciation, leaning into the gentle touch. “I won’t take much of your time. Do you have another meeting?” $name sighs, $their breath brushing warm against $dname’s wrist. “It can wait.” $cthey lift<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their hand to press it over $dname’s on $their cheek. “I missed you too.” Leaning closer, $dname presses the lightest kiss to the corner of $name’s mouth. “Allow me to rectify that.” “Oh?” $name says, pausing briefly as $dname pecks $their lips properly, making $them chuckle. “And how, exactly, are you planning on doing that?” $dname dips down to kiss $name’s jawline next, then lower than that, $name’s hand coming up to tangle in $dtheir short locks. “By leaving a memento.” $name hums, and $dname feels the pleased sound against $dtheir lips as they kiss and suck down the side of $name’s neck, until the skin has reddened to $dname’s satisfaction and will be certain to bruise. “You’re going to make me wear a scarf?” $name murmurs, head tilted back against the door, $their voice slightly breathless. “In this summer heat?” “No,” $dname replies as $dtheir teeth drag over $name’s collarbone, almost able to feel the shudder that travels down $name’s back. “Don’t wear one. Don’t hide it.” And then $dthey sinks to $dtheir knees. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At the Water Temple@@ Lost to the depths of $rtheir own memories, $rname experiences the very moment that another’s magic filters in. The dawn that has come to dispel the long dark, $name’s presence felt like a ray of sunlight warming $rname’s skin. It’s not enough to wake $rthem from this sleep, but $rthey draws comfort from it all the same as past events flit through $rtheir—$rtheir and $name’s—head. It’s the strangest thing to become so deeply connected to another in mind and spirit. To feel as they do, to experience the world as they do, to know what it is like to <em>be</em> them down to the very marrow of their bones. $rname wonders, distantly, as $name watches Perjin speak to $rname, if this is similar to what it’s like being promised to someone. $rname knows on an abstract level the strength of the bonds that can form when promised to someone for a long time. Magic intertwining, creating a link between two or more people that can grow nigh inseparable. Being able to sense them even across great distances, being able to feel what they do at any given moment—having $name inside $rname’s very thoughts and memories takes it much further than that, but at the core of it, $rname imagines it must be not too far off. Yet, $rthey doesn’t try to pull away from $name’s presence, despite how <em>intimate</em> this is. Perhaps that speaks to how comfortable $rname has become with $name, or how desperate $rname is for guidance. Watching $rtheir old memories play out for $name is not the hard part. It’s necessary, in a way, for $name to understand what has made $rname into who $rthey is today. What has shaped $rthem, and continues to shape $rthem even many years later. No, the hardest part is <em>her</em>. Lady Zerya kneels at $rname’s feet—not truly her, just a warped memory of her—as she recites her last words to $rname, and $rname returns the words $rthey spoke to Lady Zerya in return. Ones that feel bitter, now, tainted with the knowledge of the secret that was kept between them, the <em>lie</em> that Lady Zerya let $rname live with for years. All $rthey can do, then, is to turn to $name. “What do I do?” $name looks back at $rthem, brows furrowed. “You have to let it go.” $ctheir golden eyes burn like a beacon in the dark. “You can’t keep living in the past, it will only hurt you.” Let it go. The black void swallows them both whole. Memories $rthey clung to fade. Not entirely, but enough to make them stop hurting. Prying them from $rname’s hands, easing them out of $rtheir grip— “Let it go,” $rname tells $rthemselves. —until $rthey turns blissfully, <em>blissfully</em> numb. No more pain. $rname wakes in the temple, blinking $rtheir eyes open. No more fear. No more sorrow. No more loneliness. $crthey peers up at $name, who holds $rname in $rtheir arms with concern. No more joy. No more hope. No more love. “$rname?” $name asks softly. “Are you alright?” $rname feels nothing. Not even $rtheir own body. It’s all gone—no more burdens, no more weight, no tether to the world. “I’m fine,” $rthey says with a smile. “I promise.” Nothing at all. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At the Water Temple@@ “What can I do?” $rname pleads for guidance, lost within the pain of $rtheir memories, of past aches that still live on in the present and hurt so deeply they have blinded $rtheir path forward. So $rthey seeks the advice of one who would know how it feels; that amount of grief, the betrayal of it all. $name looks back at $rthem, brows furrowed. “Look for answers.” $ctheir golden eyes burn like a beacon in the dark. “Even if they are painful ones, you deserve to know why.” Find the truth. The funeral pyre lights with the radiance of a star, burning black into white. All at once, $rname feels it: the sorrow that seems so hopelessly endless, but then the love that makes it bearable. More than that, that makes it possible to hurt in the first place; it is why $rname’s heart beats, why $rthey is alive, why $rthey is able to experience the world in all its joys and woes. To turn away from it would be akin to severing $rthemselves from everything $rthey is and everyone that is dear to $rthem. $crthey accepts it. “$rname?” Blinking $rtheir eyes open, $rthey comes to within the temple, surrounded by <em>warmth</em>. The water $rthey is submerged in feels like a gentle embrace, a blanket that envelops $rtheir body, and $name’s hand is just as soft as it holds up $rtheir head, shimmering golden eyes peering down at $rthem with concern as tears run down $name’s cheeks. $cthey felt $rname’s heart as if it were $their own. $rname sucks in a breath, eyes pricking with $rtheir own tears, emotions raw and oversensitive as they roll down $rtheir own face, exhaling a sob that whimpers in $rtheir throat. $crthey cannot say whether $name extends $their arms first or whether $rname reaches for $them first, but it hardly matters. All $rthey needs in this moment is for someone to hold $rthem, and tell $rthem it will be alright. $name embraces $rthem with such tenderness it makes something within $rname’s core tremble with it. When was the last time $rthey asked for such comfort? There was never any time for it: $rthey had to provide for $rtheir family, then $rthey had to be Lady Zerya’s prodigious pupil, then $rthey had to be the Sorcerer to the Crown. Never once could $rthey afford to falter, with so much weight on $rtheir shoulders. This is the first time, since $rthey grieved at Lady Zerya’s funeral, that $rname has dared to shed the burden, if only for a moment. $name cups $rtheir cheeks, nothing but fondness in $their eyes as $they say<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, “I found you.” It feels as if the air is pulled from $rname’s lungs, and $rthey understands then what $rthey truly needs: to shatter in $name’s arms so $rthey can be remade again, whole and new. So shatter $rthey does, falling to pieces with a cry that echoes through the temple as $rthey clings to $name, pressing $rtheir face against $name’s shoulder as $rthey weeps with all $rtheir heart, for the first time in years. “You’re not alone, $rname,” $name murmurs as $their fingers caress $rname’s hair, the touch like an anchor that grounds $rname. “Your uncle, your cousins, Perjin, $aname, your family and friends—they love you. You have them, and you have me. You always will. To us, you’ll never be unwanted.” $rname’s arms tighten around $name, filled with such immense gratitude, such <em>affection</em> that $rtheir chest might burst with it, poured all out into the water that surrounds them both. In this moment, $name is everything to $rthem. “Thank you,” $rname whispers. “Thank you for finding me.” <em>Thank you for loving me.</em> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Select whether your Crown is the little spoon or big spoon in this scene: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Little spoon|X ROM 4 little]]</li> <li>[[Big spoon|X ROM 4 big]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On the Road@@ It has been a long few days on the road. You’re relieved to encounter a modestly-sized inn along the Crown’s Road. Returning to Marabad after having visited the capital for the past several months, you asked the Crescent Blades and $xname to accompany you as the Imperial Army was tied up elsewhere. $aname remained behind to tie up some loose ends in Zeratun, though $athey’ll be following after you before long. “The Blades will set up camp nearby,” $xname tells you as $xthey accompanies you inside the inn. “Let’s hope they’ll still have a room available at this late hour.” “I wouldn’t mind camping,” you reply as you walk through the door, entering a crowded hall with a variety of travelers resting, eating or drinking at the tables spread through the large space. Your eyes are glamoured into a natural brown and your clothes are much simpler compared to the luxurious garments you usually wear. Even $xname has gone through the effort of wearing a hooded cloak to avoid being recognized and drawing attention. The two of you head towards a counter, where someone who’s either the innkeeper or an attendant is looking through a thick ledger. They look up at your approach, giving a welcoming smile. “Evening, travelers. I hope the road has been kind to you.” “Good evening,” you reply, taking the lead as $xname surveys the room beside you, $xtheir gaze distant in that way that signals $xthey’s focusing on $xtheir sensing. “And thank you, it has. Do you have any rooms available for the night?” “You’re in luck, friend, I have exactly one.” The attendant glances down at the ledger. “A bit small, with a single bed.” You glance over at $xname, who meets your eyes as $xthey refocuses. $cxtheir eyebrows lift slowly, a smile teasing the corners of $xtheir mouth. Clearing your throat, you turn back to the attendant. “That’ll do fine. How much?” After reserving the room, the two of you head up to see exactly how small the bed is. You’re acutely aware of how closely $xname follows along after you as you ascend the stairs to the upper floor, finding the room the attendant indicated with the label of <em>Single Star</em> written on a placard above its doorway. $xname $xthemselves must be aware of it as well, for how loud your heart is beating inside your chest. You can almost feel the warmth of $xtheir body radiating against your back as you lift the key to insert it into the lock. “Shall I sleep on the floor?” $xname’s voice murmuring into your ear nearly startles you, your pulse skipping as the key slips from your hand. In a quick move, $xname reaches around you to catch the key, though the movement means $xtheir arm is wrapped around your waist, $xtheir chest all but pressed against your back. “$xname, behave,” you reply in warning, glancing up and down the corridor. Thankfully there aren’t any other people around, though that can change at any moment. “What? It’s an honest question.” $xname sticks the key into the lock and opens the door from behind you, and you feel as if you’re developing a fever from how hot you feel—both from how warm $xname is, and how heated your own body is getting from $xtheir closeness. You quickly slip inside the room, $xname following right after you and closing the door behind you. The bed you find inside is actually a decent size, <<if $height is 'very tall'>>enough to where your feet won’t be hanging off the edge, which is all you can ask for<<else>>plenty accommodating for your height and stature<</if>>. “So?” $xname says from behind you, and you turn around, unsurprised to see the wicked smile curved in $xtheir mouth as $xthey glances at the bed and back at you. “Will it be the floorboards for poor old me?” You exhale an exasperated breath, though the fondness creeps up in the way you narrow your eyes at $xthem. “Don’t be ridiculous, we both know we’re sharing.” Casting another look at the size of the bed, you consider, <<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall'>>“Though it’ll be a tight squeeze.” “Oh, my favorite,”<<else>>“It looks big enough for both of us.” “Lucky me,”<</if>> $xname quips, stepping close to you and unclasping your cloak from around your shoulders, fingers trailing heat across your body even through your clothes. You both help each other undress to a single layer of garments—you don’t know how clean those sheets are and would rather not trust your bare skin to them—before climbing onto the bed together. $xname wraps an arm around you from behind, pressing close to your back. Ordinarily you both might be up for more intimacy, but you’re weary from the road, and $xname can sense as much. $cxtheir warmth covers you like a blanket, almost sweltering, and $xthey chuckles when you push off the blankets so you don’t overheat. “Too much?” $xthey asks, pressing a kiss to the back of your shoulder. You pull $xtheir arm tighter around you. “No. Now it’s just right.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On the Road@@ It has been a long few days on the road. You’re relieved to encounter a modestly-sized inn along the Crown’s Road. Returning to Marabad after having visited the capital for the past several months, you asked the Crescent Blades and $xname to accompany you as the Imperial Army was tied up elsewhere. $aname remained behind to tie up some loose ends in Zeratun, though $athey’ll be following after you before long. “The Blades will set up camp nearby,” $xname tells you as $xthey accompanies you inside the inn. “Let’s hope they’ll still have a room available at this late hour.” “I wouldn’t mind camping,” you reply as you walk through the door, entering a crowded hall with a variety of travelers resting, eating or drinking at the tables spread through the large space. Your eyes are glamoured into a natural brown and your clothes are much simpler compared to the luxurious garments you usually wear. Even $xname has gone through the effort of wearing a hooded cloak to avoid being recognized and drawing attention. The two of you head towards a counter, where someone who’s either the innkeeper or an attendant is looking through a thick ledger. They look up at your approach, giving a welcoming smile. “Evening, travelers. I hope the road has been kind to you.” “Good evening,” you reply, taking the lead as $xname surveys the room beside you, $xtheir gaze distant in that way that signals $xthey’s focusing on $xtheir sensing. “And thank you, it has. Do you have any rooms available for the night?” “You’re in luck, friend, I have exactly one.” The attendant glances down at the ledger. “A bit small, with a single bed.” You glance over at $xname, who meets your eyes as $xthey refocuses. $cxtheir eyebrows lift slowly, a smile teasing the corners of $xtheir mouth. Clearing your throat, you turn back to the attendant. “That’ll do fine. How much?” After reserving the room, the two of you head up to see exactly how small the bed is. You’re acutely aware of how closely $xname follows along after you as you ascend the stairs to the upper floor, finding the room the attendant indicated with the label of <em>Single Star</em> written on a placard above its doorway. $xname $xthemselves must be aware of it as well, for how loud your heart is beating inside your chest. You can almost feel the warmth of $xtheir body radiating against your back as you lift the key to insert it into the lock. “Shall I sleep on the floor?” $xname’s voice murmuring into your ear nearly startles you, your pulse skipping as the key slips from your hand. In a quick move, $xname reaches around you to catch the key, though the movement means $xtheir arm is wrapped around your waist, $xtheir chest all but pressed against your back. “$xname, behave,” you reply in warning, glancing up and down the corridor. Thankfully there aren’t any other people around, though that can change at any moment. “What? It’s an honest question.” $xname sticks the key into the lock and opens the door from behind you, and you feel as if you’re developing a fever from how hot you feel—both from how warm $xname is, and how heated your own body is getting from $xtheir closeness. You quickly slip inside the room, $xname following right after you and closing the door behind you. The bed you find inside is actually a decent size, <<if $height is 'very tall'>>enough to where your feet won’t be hanging off the edge, which is all you can ask for<<else>>plenty accommodating for your height and stature<</if>>. “So?” $xname says from behind you, and you turn around, unsurprised to see the wicked smile curved in $xtheir mouth as $xthey glances at the bed and back at you. “Will it be the floorboards for poor old me?” You exhale an exasperated breath, though the fondness creeps up in the way you narrow your eyes at $xthem. “Don’t be ridiculous, we both know we’re sharing.” Casting another look at the size of the bed, you consider, <<if $height is 'very tall' or $height is 'tall'>>“Though it’ll be a tight squeeze.” “Oh, my favorite,”<<else>>“It looks big enough for both of us.” “Lucky me,”<</if>> $xname quips, stepping close to you and unclasping your cloak from around your shoulders, fingers trailing heat across your body even through your clothes. You both help each other undress to a single layer of garments—you don’t know how clean those sheets are and would rather not trust your bare skin to them—before climbing onto the bed together. You wrap an arm around $xname from behind, pressing close to $xtheir back. Ordinarily you both might be up for more intimacy, but you’re weary from the road, and $xname can sense as much. $cxtheir warmth glows in your arms as if you were holding a living flame, almost sweltering, and $xthey chuckles when you push off the blankets so you don’t overheat. “Too much?” $xthey asks. You wrap your arm tighter around $xthem, pressing a kiss to the back of $xtheir shoulder. “No. Now it’s just right.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;After the Fire@@ The fear that grips $aname upon sensing $name’s magical signature nearby, seeing $them out in the streets, is as weighted as an icy fist clutched around $atheir heart. The city burns, masked killers roam the alleys, and here $name is out in the open, vulnerable to attack even with the Imperial Guards surrounding $them. $aname has half a mind to reprimand $them for $their lack of care regarding $their own safety, but then $name points to the burning house behind $them where people are still trapped inside. Even as $aname takes it upon $athemselves to head into the house, $atheir previous anger—caused by $atheir fear for $name getting hurt—does not return. As unwise as it was of the Crown to venture out into the midst of this chaos, $their sincere care and consideration for $their citizens cannot be denied. $cthey put $themselves at risk to save $their subjects. It’s something Crown Piruz would have never done. The thought sticks to the back of $aname’s mind, lingering there even long after the family has been saved and $athey escorts $name back to the palace. With every step they take, every moment that passes, $athey feels something shift inside of $athem. Some gradual realization that had been crawling up to the surface of $atheir awareness as days and weeks passed since the coronation, time spent together with $name that already feels like it has become a familiar, comfortable habit. A locked door inside $aname’s mind has suddenly clicked open. $cathey is still a little bothered by $name’s willingness to stick $their neck out into such a dangerous situation, and $athey tells $name as much once the two of them find some privacy in the Crown’s personal quarters. But $name’s presence there undeniably saved lives. “Then you agree the risk was worth it?” $name says in reply when $aname admits to that benefit. It coaxes a smile from $aname’s lips, one whose fondness $aname can sense even upon $atheir own mouth as $atheir gaze softens with mirth. “Are you that desperate for my approval?” $name seems determined to surprise $aname further still, admitting to how much $they value<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $aname’s judgment. The very notion is almost baffling; Piruz never took anyone’s counsel aside from that of Zhaleh’s, and even his Sorcerer was ignored on several occasions that $aname can recall from memory. Yet, especially in that respect, $name has been different from the very start: $they listen<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to $rname, to $dname, to $xname, to $their tutors like Perjin, and even $their servants like Keko. But $aname is in no position to give advice. $cathey is a glorified personal guard, one who even sought to use the title for $atheir own ends—for searching for $atheir sister—until $name unexpectedly appeared. $name should have no reason to look to $aname for insight, yet, $they insist<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> despite $aname’s misgivings. “Shall we make a pact, then?” $name extends $their hand, a gesture that $aname cannot help but regard with wonder. “To be honest with each other, both about our mistakes and our good deeds.” It’s an entirely foreign concept to $aname’s understanding of the world, of this hierarchy $athey has lived in for as long as $athey can remember, on both ends. “You want me to hold you to account?” “Is that so strange?” The strangest. As strange as the warmth in $name’s hand, like it basked for hours in the sunlight, heated fingers wrapping gently around $aname’s own when their palms meet. $aname lifts $atheir gaze from their linked hands back to $name’s eyes that glimmer gently in the dim shadows of $their room—$aname’s heart flutters. Its beat echoes in $atheir head like a song, one $athey can feel build up to something. One that <em>has been</em> building up to something since the day $athey met $name, but now, for the first time, $aname can hear it. $catheir chest feels full with things $athey wants to say, if only $athey could find the words. Something that would sound as warm to speak as $name makes $aname feel with just the softest touch of hands, with a single look. “A north star,” $athey murmurs instead, as woefully lacking of a phrase as it is. “Can’t say I’ve had one before.” What $athey truly wants to say is <em>thank you</em>, $aname thinks. For $name’s courage and $their kindness when it would’ve been so much easier to be selfish, and for not breaking $aname’s trust. But a <em>please</em>, too, $aname realizes. To treat $aname’s heart gently, once $athey finally—inevitably—places it within $name’s hands. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Warming up@@ “$aname, what on earth happened?” You stare at $aname who has just entered your tent, tracking in snow with $atheir boots, soaked and shivering from head to toe. Sitting up from the warm covers of your mattress laid out on the ground, you watch as $aname ties the flaps of your tent shut and starts methodically stripping off $atheir armor. “F-fell through ice,” $athey bites out morosely as you get up to your feet, looking $athem over in concern. “C-caught the deer, though.” $cathey left with a couple of the Imperial Guards to hunt for your evening meal; you’d been caught out on the road by a sudden snowstorm, finding some shelter from it in the dense forest of Anshan on your way back to the Marabad. “You fell through ice?” you repeat with concern as you help $aname’s shaking hands unbuckle the straps of $atheir chestplate, easing it over $atheir head and setting it aside. “I’m f-fine, just cold. Armor w-wards helped,” $aname reassures you—no doubt without those wards on $atheir armor, $athey would’ve been more than just uncomfortably cold. Dying from falling into icy water in winter is, unfortunately, not unheard of, and you’re relieved $aname had the protection of $atheir armor. After a moment, $aname averts $atheir eyes from you with mild embarrassment before continuing to speak. “Didn’t n-notice I was s-standing on a lake.” You try not to laugh. You try very, very hard. $cathey narrows $atheir eyes at you, and you can’t hold it in anymore, at least doing your best to cover your chuckles behind your hand. $cathey grumbles something under $atheir breath as you bend down to help get $atheir greaves and boots off while $athey pulls off $atheir gauntlets. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly, rising back up to your feet and aiding in peeling off $atheir wet tunic next, leaving $athem bare from the waist up<<if $agender is 'female'>>, save for the soft cloth wrapped around her breasts<</if>>. “I’m glad you’re alright. Let me help warm you up.” $aname’s mood lightens in an instant, leaning closer towards you as your fingers tug at the edge of $atheir breeches, rolling $atheir trousers down $atheir hips, $atheir thighs, $atheir calves. You try not to let your eyes linger, even as quickly as your heart starts beating with anticipation, but first things first: getting $aname warm again. You call the magic from your core up to the surface of your skin, and $aname leans even closer towards you as the sun’s warmth starts gradually radiating from your body. You’re careful not to burn too much so it won’t feel too uncomfortable for $aname to adjust to, though you feel your control waver for an instant when you watch $aname peel $atheir undergarments from $atheir still wet skin, your breath catching. Heat flares briefly from your body towards $atheirs, and $aname casts you a knowing look, warmth of two different kinds in $atheir gaze. You say nothing, offering a cloth for $aname to dry $athemselves with, though the warmth of your magic is doing wonders to help with that already, and soon enough $aname’s teeth are no longer chattering. “Join me in bed?” you ask softly, hands wrapping lightly around $atheir bare waist, and now <em>you’re</em> the one shivering for an entirely different reason, even as you give a flimsy excuse. “It’s even warmer under the covers.” “I’m sure it is,” $aname replies with a teasing smile, voice lowering to a tone that makes your heart flutter. $cathey lets you lead $athem to your bed in the back of the tent, and you get in first before $aname follows. $cathey immediately closes the distance between you, arm wrapping around your waist and pressing $atheir face against the crook of your neck. The heat glowing from your body grows so intense it nearly smothers you both in it, yet $aname doesn’t seem bothered by it in the least as $athey presses as close as $athey can be. You think you might melt, happily, as you feel $atheir body flush to yours, only the thin fabric of your nightwear separating your skin. “Your heart is pounding,” $aname points out wryly, lips brushing against your neck as $athey speaks—the absolute <em>menace</em>. “Getting excited?” “You’re teasing me a lot for someone who fell into a lake,” you retort, and $aname groans, pressing $atheir forehead against your collarbone. You wrap your fingers around the back of $atheir neck, and $atheir groan turns into a contented hum. “Are you still cold?” “No,” $athey mutters back, and you feel disappointed for a moment, until $athey lifts $atheir face to look at you. The heat in the air is nothing compared to the heat in $atheir gaze as $athey adds, “But do we need the excuse?” You bite your lip, failing to suppress a grin at $atheir wandering hands. “No, we don’t.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Warming up@@ “$aname, what on earth happened?” You stare at $aname who has just entered your tent, tracking in snow with $atheir boots, soaked and shivering from head to toe. Sitting up from the warm covers of your mattress laid out on the ground, you watch as $aname ties the flaps of your tent shut and starts methodically stripping off $atheir armor. “F-fell through ice,” $athey bites out morosely as you get up to your feet, looking $athem over in concern. “C-caught the deer, though.” $cathey left with a couple of the Imperial Guards to hunt for your evening meal; you’d been caught out on the road by a sudden snowstorm, finding some shelter from it in the dense forest of Anshan on your way back to the Marabad. “You fell through ice?” you repeat with concern as you help $aname’s shaking hands unbuckle the straps of $atheir chestplate, easing it over $atheir head and setting it aside. “I’m f-fine, just cold. Armor w-wards helped,” $aname reassures you—no doubt without those wards on $atheir armor, $athey would’ve been more than just uncomfortably cold. Dying from falling into icy water in winter is, unfortunately, not unheard of, and you’re relieved $aname had the protection of $atheir armor. After a moment, $aname averts $atheir eyes from you with mild embarrassment before continuing to speak. “Didn’t n-notice I was s-standing on a lake.” You try not to laugh. You try very, very hard. $cathey narrows $atheir eyes at you, and you can’t hold it in anymore, at least doing your best to cover your chuckles behind your hand. $cathey grumbles something under $atheir breath as you bend down to help get $atheir greaves and boots off while $athey pulls off $atheir gauntlets. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly, rising back up to your feet and aiding in peeling off $atheir wet tunic next, leaving $athem bare from the waist up<<if $agender is 'female'>>, save for the soft cloth wrapped around her breasts<</if>>. “I’m glad you’re alright. Let me help warm you up.” $aname’s mood lightens in an instant, leaning closer towards you as your fingers tug at the edge of $atheir breeches, rolling $atheir trousers down $atheir hips, $atheir thighs, $atheir calves. You try not to let your eyes linger, even as quickly as your heart starts beating with anticipation, but first things first: getting $aname warm again. You pull the idle magic in the atmosphere towards you, letting it reflect the signature of your own; gradually starting to warm the air in the tent, $aname shuddering with relief as its heat washes over $athem. You’re careful not to do it too fast so it won’t feel uncomfortable, letting $aname’s body adjust to it, though you feel your control waver for an instant when you watch $aname peel $atheir undergarments from $atheir still wet skin, your breath catching. Heat flares briefly through the air, and $aname casts you a knowing look, warmth of two different kinds in $atheir gaze. You say nothing, offering a cloth for $aname to dry $athemselves with, though the warmth of your magic is doing wonders to help with that already, and soon enough $aname’s teeth are no longer chattering. “Join me in bed?” you ask softly, hands wrapping lightly around $atheir bare waist, and now <em>you’re</em> the one shivering for an entirely different reason, even as you give a flimsy excuse. “It’s even warmer under the covers.” “I’m sure it is,” $aname replies with a teasing smile, voice lowering to a tone that makes your heart flutter. $cathey lets you lead $athem to your bed in the back of the tent, and you get in first before $aname follows. $cathey immediately closes the distance between you, arm wrapping around your waist and pressing $atheir face against the crook of your neck. The warmth in the air around you settles on top of you both like an added blanket, enveloping you—though it’s nothing compared to the heat beneath the covers. You think you might suffocate, happily, as you feel $aname’s body pressed to yours, only the thin fabric of your nightwear separating your skin. “Your heart is pounding,” $aname points out wryly, lips brushing against your neck as $athey speaks—the absolute <em>menace</em>. “Getting excited?” “You’re teasing me a lot for someone who fell through a lake,” you retort, and $aname groans, pressing $atheir forehead against your collarbone. You wrap your fingers around the back of $atheir neck, and $atheir groan turns into a contented hum. “Are you still cold?” “No,” $athey mutters back, and you feel disappointed for a moment, until $athey lifts $atheir face to look at you. The heat in the air is nothing compared to the heat in $atheir gaze as $athey adds, “But do we need the excuse?” You bite your lip, failing to suppress a grin at $atheir wandering hands. “No, we don’t.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Choose whether your Crown is an inner magic type or an outer magic type: [[Inner magic|A ROM BONUS 2A]] [[Outer magic|A ROM BONUS 2B]] <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At the City Gates@@ “You don’t trust me.” $name looks at $xname with hurt in $their gaze, the realization seeming a startling one, a shocking one. The words from $their lips spoken as if a victim of betrayal—so very different from the accusation $they threw at $xname’s feet moments ago, the first thing from $their mouth after hearing that $xname had acted out of duty, out of <em>pain</em> to punish one of the soldiers who had taken everything from $xthem. What trust can there possibly be between them, when there is no understanding? $xname knows well how long and how much $xthey has fixated upon $xtheir past, has been told as much many times by $xtheir loved ones who only wish to see $xthem find happiness, but it’s not so easy to set aside something that has shaped $xtheir whole life. $cxtheir sense of self, $xtheir sense of purpose. $cxthey thought, perhaps naively, that $name might understand. Having lost $their parents, now asked to take on an unimaginable weight of duty, to become something more than $themselves—and yet the understanding that $xname granted $name was not returned. All $name could see was $xname’s distrust, saw it as an indictment, and cared only for $their own hurt. <em>Why would I trust you,</em> $xname thinks, <em>when you have the power to destroy me?</em> It’s not fair to $name, and there is hypocrisy mixed within it, $xthey knows that. $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> a person, someone with thoughts and feelings and needs—but so much <em>more</em> than that, now. $ctheir crown eclipses $their personhood. It shouldn’t, but it does. There is no way around it, when the knowledge that $name holds the entirety of Arsur at $their fingertips lingers eternally at the back of $xname’s mind, and what $they could do with all that power. All the great and all the horrible things $they could use it for. “You’re the Crown,” $xname answers, as honest as $xthey can be in this moment, and forces $xthemselves not to avert $xtheir eyes from the way that makes $name shrink. From the ache it inflicts on $them. Only for a moment, recoiling and turning into $themselves, hands grasping the armrests of $their chair and fingers digging in. “Then why are you here?” $ctheir jaw sets, a muscle ticking before $they releases it again with a sharp inhale. “Why try to justify yourself to me? Why speak to me at all when you don’t—” “Because I care for you.” This, too, is the truth. Despite the fear, the terrifying potential, $name <em>is</em> still a person to $xname, and so much more than that; a kindred soul. Someone who has known pain similar to what $xname has suffered, and also pain entirely unlike what $xname has ever and will ever experience. $xname hopes, wants, even <em>needs</em> $name to succeed. To become a Crown who doesn’t lose $their humanity to $their throne, to prove $xname did not make a mistake in helping $them reach that very same throne all those weeks ago. To reassure $xname that the guilt $xthey carries for $xtheir past mistakes, the guilt $xthey has acted upon, hasn’t led $xname down a path of no return. And, most of all, for $name to show that $they understand<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, even if $they do<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> not agree. All $xname wants, all $xname has ever wanted was to be understood, even when $xthey hides behind masks. Or perhaps especially when $xthey hides behind masks. If $xthey were understood, the masks wouldn’t be necessary in the first place, but people will think what they will. Casting $xtheir own wants and desires upon $xname as it suits them; a protector of the weak, a rebellious dissident, a roguish mercenary, a charming leader, a good lay for the night, someone who has nothing inherent to $xthemselves, someone who is shaped solely by the perceptions of others. Not a person, but a hero. Not a human being, but a mirror. Not someone with $xtheir own needs, but an object that fulfills the needs of others. Not entirely unlike a crown, $xthey thinks. If only $name could see it, too. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Bathing Together@@ $rname’s fingers follow the edge of the stone tub, hot water freshly poured in where it sits in the corner of the bathing room. “I think it’s warm enough now.” $crthey peers down at $rtheir reflection in the water, $rtheir fingers drifting through it. A subtle scent of lavender rises from the steam; a bit of scented oil added to the bath for relaxation. “Do you want to get in?” A hand settles between $rname’s shoulder blades, fingers brushing $rtheir hair aside followed by a gentle kiss to the back of $rtheir neck, making $rthem warm from the inside out. “I’d like to help you undress first.” $crthey turns around to face $name and, as expected, finds mirth twinkling bright in $their golden eyes. The flames from the candles cast a warm glow on $their $skincolor skin, more of it revealed now that $they ha<<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>ve<<else>>s<</if>> taken $their upper garments off, leaving $them in nothing but linen smallclothes. $rname’s eyes trail down to $name’s chest, the first few laces of $their thin tunic undone as if to intentionally <<if $breasts is true>>tease at the curves of $their breasts<<else>>put the breadth of it on display<</if>>. When $rname’s gaze returns to $name’s eyes $rthey finds the mirth gone, replaced by something gentle and fond, gaze brimming with affection. “If that’s what you wish,” $rname replies, reaching out with $rtheir hand to carefully brush $rtheir knuckles across $name’s cheek. $name smiles softly, such a simple gesture that never ceases to send butterflies fluttering through $rname’s stomach. $ctheir hands drift down to $rname’s belt first, unclasping it to set it aside on the stone counter, before carefully taking off each piece of jewerly from $rtheir neck, $rtheir wrists and $rtheir ears. Next is $rname’s outer robe, sliding easily off $rtheir shoulders, carefully folded up to be put away, followed by $rtheir dress itself. $rname inhales a deep breath as $name’s fingers slide $rtheir lower undergarments down, leaving $rthem completely bare. Any other time this might have escalated rapidly, but at the end of such a long day, the desire lingers as a subtle undertone as $rname returns the favor and helps $name out of the remainder of $their clothes. Both of them are too tired to do much more than ease into the bath, $rname sitting between $name’s legs with $rtheir back facing $name, tying $rtheir long hair up to avoid getting it wet. “Let me wash your back for you,” $name murmurs, a touch of soft cloth to $rname’s back, $name’s calloused hand settling on $rtheir shoulder. The rubbing motions and heated water feel incredibly pleasant after such a tiring day, $rname’s eyes briefly fluttering shut. “Shouldn’t I be the one taking care of you, $name?” $rthey muses, valiantly resisting the urge to sink back against $name’s chest and doze off like this. $name hums. “You’ll get your chance. Turn around for me.” $rname does as asked, shifting onto $rtheir knees, $rtheir hands curling around $name’s sides as $they begin<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to wash $rname’s front, the washcloth starting around $rtheir neck and traveling lower. $rname exhales a deeply contented sigh as $name makes sure to wash every bit of skin, from $rtheir upper body down $rname’s thighs and calves, before $rname finally pulls the cloth from $their hands. “My turn.” $rname follows much the same path $name did, starting around $name’s neck to $their shoulders, $their arms, back to $their chest again. <<if $breasts is true>>$rname rubs the cloth gently around and over $name’s breasts, smiling a little as $name’s breaths start to speed a little, eyes briefly fluttering shut as $rname takes $rtheir time here.<<else>>$rname rubs the cloth intently over the plains of $name’s chest, $name seeming content as $their eyes briefly flutter shut, though $they twitch<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> when the cloth grazes $their nipples.<</if>> “$rname,” $they warn<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, eyelids cracking back open to give a half-lidded look that only makes $rname want to keep going, though $their tone is playful, lips curving slightly. “You’re supposed to be <em>washing</em> me, remember?” “I haven’t forgotten,” $rname promises, eyes crinkling as $rthey moves on with the wash cloth, attentive to the rest of $name’s body—though $rthey makes sure not to tease too much again. $name looks as if $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>is<<else>>are<</if>> ready to start<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> falling asleep by the time $rname finishes washing $their legs. “Turn around?” $name shuffles a bit to do so, leaning forward against the edge of the tub, arms folded beneath $their chin. $rname can’t resist pressing a kiss to the back of $name’s shoulder, then on top of it, then to $their neck. “$rname,” $name murmurs with a hint of teasing, “I really have to tell you, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy for much more than this.” “You don’t have to move, love,” $rname assures in return, leaning forward to press a kiss to $name’s cheek next, chest against $name’s back as $rthey puts the cloth aside on the edge of the tub. “I’m only spoiling you a little.” “Spoiling—?” $name’s words are cut off with a sharp intake of breath as $rname’s hand slips around $their hips to $their front. $ctheir voice lowers, a touch breathless. “Oh… I see.” “Unless you’re too tired?” $rname says, starting to pull $rtheir hand back, but $name catches it. “Not for that.” $name exhales a short, heated sigh, spine tensed against $rname’s chest. “Please, keep going.” $rname smiles against $their shoulder. “As you wish, my Crown.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Does your Crown have breasts? <ul class="a"> <li>[[Yes|R ROM3][$breasts to true]]</li> <li>[[No|R ROM3][$breasts to false]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Back in Rojan@@ $dname is capable of keeping $dtheir distance. Admittedly, it would not be easy. $name is $dtheir Crown, the foremost person in all of Arsur that $dname is expected to answer to. Whenever $dname is not traveling through the Empire for a specific purpose, $dthey will have to be around $name almost as much as $their Sorcerer and $their Royal Protector. $dname is not so deep in denial that $dthey would pretend to be unaffected, that $name has no influence over $dthem whatsoever. But, $dthey considers, in the grand scheme of things it may not be such an insurmountable obstacle. Furthermore, it’s a <em>necessity</em> if $dname wishes to keep both of them safe from scandal. Surely $dthey would not do something so foolish as putting ten years of dedication, of restoring $dtheir family’s name, on the line for a fancy that might prove as fickle as the wind? Even though that does seem unlikely, at this point. There is no doubt in $dname’s mind, even as difficult as it is to confront, that there is an unspoken attraction between the two of them. $cdthey felt it from the very day they met, and it has only grown—albeit gradually—as they have come to know each other better. As $dname has come to witness $name struggle with $their new place in the world, the new weight of duty upon $their shoulders, reminding $dname so much of $dthemselves all those years ago, stepping into role of High General after $dtheir mother’s disgrace while truthfully being woefully unprepared for it. There is a desire within $dthem to support $name, not solely for duty’s sake. It’s because, in some ways, $dname knows exactly the kind of weight $name carries, and $dthey feels compelled to reach out because of it. The impulse blends with the desire between them in ways that are dangerous, but not impossible to overcome. All $dname need do is to let the embers flicker out before they can spark into a fire. While $dtheir first instinct at hearing that $dtheir letter to the Crown is missing—likely stolen—is one of panic, when $dthey takes a breath to consider the situation, $dthey manages to calm $dthemselves. The situation is still manageable; $dthey never placed $dtheir magical signature within the letter, so whoever possesses it now would have a difficult time proving $dname wrote it as is. So long as $dthey maintains the appearance of professional distance between $dthem and $name, $dthey will have nothing to fear. “What was in the letter?” $name asks $dthem after the physician has departed again. “It’s not the content that concerns me,” $dthey answers in response, avoiding $name’s eyes as $dthey gazes up at the ceiling, trying to maintain the separation between them as much as possible. “Rather, the fact that someone went to the trouble of stealing it. The court and the nobles were happy enough to ignore me before, but now…” “You’ve become a target because of me,” $name surmises, guilt lacing $their words. “It was inevitable.” $dname maintains a calm appearance in contrast, even if part of $dthem remains unsettled beneath the surface. “I’ve gained power and influence because of the Crown. Any authority I have is borrowed from you. Of course they would be anxious to find any weaknesses.” “And are there?” $name asks. “Weaknesses, I mean?” The implication in $name’s words is understated, but certainly there. Ever-present, it seems, in all their interactions and conversations. Something $dname must endeavor to root out, for <em>both</em> of their sakes. $cdtheir eyes flit to meet $name’s, finding $their gaze seems almost hopeful, almost longing. $dname has to pretend not to see it. $cdthey has to turn away from it, swallow back that tension in $dtheir throat, stifle that impulse in $dtheir hands to close the gap between them. Finally, $dthey looks away. “That remains to be seen.” $dname cannot afford to be $name’s weakness, and neither can $name be $dtheirs. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;On a Mission Together@@ This isn’t how $xname expected the job to go. $cxthey slips down the corridor of a large mansion, footsteps light as $xthey senses the occupants are still obliviously asleep in their beds. Another pair of feet follows after $xthem, remaining as quiet as possible—when $xname suddenly stops around a corner, $xtheir companion nearly bumps into $xthem, breathing an annoyed sigh. “Could you at least tell me where we’re going?” $aname whispers, and $xname glances over $xtheir shoulder at $athem to see an unimpressed look on $atheir face. $xname grins back. “But then how would I show off?” “Take this seriously, for five seconds.” “I am!” $xname motions $athem closer. $aname gives a suspicious look, before shuffling nearer to join $xthem at the corner. $xname points at the door on the left side of the hallway they both look down. “That’s the main bedchambers. Supposedly, that’s where we’ll find some evidence for what Lady Herki has been up to.” The Crescent Blades don’t usually get hired for covert jobs like these. Their primary specialty lies in offering protection from physical threats, or taking care of hostile forces—whether they be outlaws, bandits, man-eaters, or corrupt officials. Sneaking into a noble’s house to find incriminating evidence for bribery would ordinarily be too tame a job for them, but $xname was personally asked for by the Imperial Army to assist $aname due to $xtheir impeccable sensory abilities. How could $xthey refuse, after such flattery? Plus, the pay was good. “Lead the way, then,” $aname remarks, lifting $atheir brows expectantly. $xname huffs out an amused breath before turning around and heading for the bedchambers, not sensing anyone near who will interfere. Lady Herki herself is absent, having a late-night meeting, and the only people present at her estate are servants and her children, most of whom are fast asleep. The few that are awake are on the other side of the mansion, and shouldn’t form much of an obstacle. The door to Herki’s chambers are unlocked, and $xname cannot sense any magic wards active either. $cxthey would be surprised at Herki’s lack of concern, but such arrogance is not unusual for nobility. $xname heads inside, $aname behind as $athey closes the door behind them, and they take a moment to survey Herki’s bedchambers. “Now, if I were incriminating evidence, where would I be?” $xname wonders out loud. “You mean, where would Lady Herki be likely to hide it,” $aname corrects. “Do you sense any concentrations of magic?” $xname observes, turning slowly in a full circle as $xthey senses for any such pockets of magic that could indicate something being guarded. “No, nothing.” “Surely she wouldn’t neglect to ward the evidence itself?” “She would if she didn’t think she would ever get caught,” $xname replies with a wry smile, heading over to the nearby desk to start rifling through it. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way, then.” $aname sighs, but then splits apart from $xthem, turning towards the bookcases in the room. They comb through every inch; through the storage chests, the wardrobes, the various shelves, even under the pillows and the mattress of the bed. “I have to admit,” $xname says as $xthey reunites with $aname by a large closet, “Herki has hidden these letters of hers exceptionally well.” “There must be a hidden compartment somewhere,” $aname insists with a frown as $athey opens the closet door. It’s largely empty, save for a few scarves hanging down from a rack at the top of the closet. “Who has an entire closet just for their scarves?” $xname remarks with confusion as $xthey stands behind $aname, looking over $atheir shoulder as $aname snorts. “As far as nobles go, this kind of wastefulness is rather mild.” $xname sighs, leaning forward to rest $xtheir chin thoughtlessly on $aname’s shoulder. “I don’t think we’ll find your hidden compartment in here.” It’s a casual gesture that isn’t supposed to mean anything, beyond the indication for how comfortable $xname feels around $aname. $cxthey knows $aname is slow to warm up to physical affection, but they’ve gotten to a point where an arm over the shoulder or a hug isn’t uncommon for them. $cxthey thought this would be received the same—but then $xthey feels $aname stiffen. Focuses, and hears $aname’s heart starting to beat faster in $atheir chest. Feels $atheir body heat begin to rise. “Right,” $aname speaks after a noticeable pause, fingers clenched around the closet door $athey’s holding onto. $xname considers whether to pull away. $cxthey can sense that the touch is either making $aname nervous, or excited, or both, judging from the way $atheir body reacts. None of those possibilities <em>necessarily</em> indicate that it’s wanted. “Do you mind?” $xthey asks quietly, and $aname’s heart beat flutters. $xname bites down on $xtheir lip in an attempt to suppress a smile; $xthey simply can’t help it. $aname is so adorable whenever $athey gets flustered. “No,” $aname responds haltingly, even while $atheir posture is tenser than stone. $cathey clears $atheir throat, attempting to brush over it. “I’m used to your clinginess by now.” “Really?” $xname shuffles a little closer, $xtheir chin atop $aname’s shoulder still the only point of contact, but $xthey hears $aname’s breath catch all the same. “So you won’t mind if I hug you like this?” $aname’s heart starts to pound. “…No.” $xname’s hands lift to grip $aname’s waist, fingers lightly curling around either side. $aname doesn’t move a single muscle. “Are you sure?” They really shouldn’t be messing around like this, especially not here and now—but how often does $xname get an opportunity like this? The answer is almost never. $aname is always so focused whenever they work together, and while $xname greatly enjoys their easy banter and familiar companionship, in the back of $xtheir mind, $xthey has always wondered what it would be like to have <em>more</em> than that. Just a taste, just to see what it would be like… “I’m sure,” $aname finally speaks, murmuring the words in a voice so low it’s barely a whisper. This time it’s $xname’s heart that is beating harder as a rush of anticipation floods through $xtheir limbs. $cxthey presses closer while $aname appears to stop breathing entirely, $xname’s hands shifting from $aname’s sides to $atheir stomach to wrap arms around $atheir middle, $xname’s chest brushing against $aname’s back— Footsteps down the hall. “Shit.” $xname jerks back, glancing back toward the door behind them. This is what $xthey gets for being so easily distracted; $xthey completely missed the servant headed their way. $aname turns around to look at $xthem in alarm. “Someone’s coming?” $xname nods, glancing around the room, before $xtheir eyes fall on the open closet in front of them. “In there.” “What?” $aname glances back at the closet, then scowls. “That’s hardly big enough to—” The servant is nearly right outside the door. $xname pushes $aname inside, following after. “There’s no time for this, just get in!” $cxthey closes the closet door behind them, so focused on the approaching servant that $xthey doesn’t notice the way $xthey’s crowding $aname in the closet until $xthey notices a hot breath brushing against $xtheir mouth. In the dark of the closet, $xname can’t see a single thing, but $xthey can very much <em>feel</em> the way $xthey has pressed $xthemselves up against $aname’s front. Chest to chest, an arm beside $aname’s head leaning against the closet wall, close enough to where when $xname shifts $xtheir head $xthey can feel the tips of their noses brush. “Sorry,” $xname whispers reflexively, and $xthey can’t tell <em>whose</em> heart skips again between them, the sound so loud to $xtheir ears that it drowns out everything else for a moment. This isn’t what $xthey intended. Teasing for a hug is one thing, but this is a far closer breach of space than $xthey thinks $aname will be comfortable with, and $xthey doesn’t want to make $athem uneasy or have $athem think $xname is trying to take advantage of the situation. $cxthey begins to move away, $xtheir back bumping against the closet door. “I didn’t mean to—” Fingers press to $xtheir lips, silencing $xthem in an instant. “Hush,” is all $aname says, right before the door to the bedchamber opens. $xname tries to keep still, for a moment distracted by the touch of $aname’s warm, callused fingers on $xtheir lips—and the way they <em>linger</em>—until a touch on $xtheir lower back nearly makes $xthem jolt in place from surprise. $aname’s hand begins to retreat, the fingers on $atheir other hand also pulling away from $xname’s mouth. $xname reaches down to grab the wrist $aname has at $xtheir back, and returns it to its original place. Perhaps it’s $xname’s own face burning up, but the heat that builds inside the closet feels almost suffocating as $aname’s fingers press against $xtheir lower back again, the both of them listening to the servant moving around the room. Suddenly $xname finds the tables turned when $aname’s hand on $xtheir back draws $xthem closer, $aname’s other hand settling on $xname’s upper back in turn. Hugging $xthem, $xname realizes. <em>Well-played, Mîrza,</em> $xthey thinks fondly, a smile flourishing on $xtheir lips as $xthey leans in, curling $xtheir arms around $aname’s upper back and resting $xtheir chin on $aname’s shoulder again. $aname embraces $xthem a little more firmly in return, and $xname melts into it—it feels so easy, so natural, and yet so dizzyingly intimate all at the same time. $cxthey can’t tell for how long they wait until the servant leaves, but for $xname, $xthey’s in no hurry at all as $xthey snuggles up comfortably to $aname. Or, as comfortable as they can be, crammed into a closet like this. $cxthey amuses $xthemselves by being a little mischievous; turning $xtheir head into $aname’s neck, lightly brushing $xtheir lips against the skin. A soft, silent exhale of breath follows in response, tickling $xname’s ear. $aname’s fingertips squeeze into $xtheir back—in warning, $xname wonders, or to ask for more? $cxthey doesn’t find the time to figure it out, however, as the door to the bedchamber closes again, indicating the servant has left. The two of them stay like this a few moments longer, $xname sensing the servant moving to another section of the house. To $xtheir disappointment. Reluctantly, $xthey pulls back from $aname and opens the closet door, stepping out again. $aname follows after, $atheir expression appearing entirely and unfairly composed as $athey smoothes out $atheir robes, then casts a glance at $xname’s face. $catheir lips quirk almost into a smile, before easing again. Nonchalantly, $athey looks away as $athey remarks, “Your cheeks are red.” $xname blinks, lifting a hand to a cheek, and finding it rather heated. $cxthey narrows $xtheir eyes at $aname, unable to tell a blush from $atheir complexion, but very much able to sense the heat that has gathered in $atheir face all the same. “Your heart is still pounding,” $xname retorts, smirking at the way $aname tenses, pointedly avoiding $xname’s eyes. Again—<em>adorable</em>. “You’re mishearing things.” “Sure I am, Mirza.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;In Another Timeline@@ “That was it for today’s lecture.” $rname rises from the table $rthey’s seated at with $rtheir study books gathered in $rtheir arms after $rtheir tutor wraps up the lesson, dismissing $rthem for the day. As soon as $rthey opens the door to the corridor, however, $rthey comes face to face with another outside. $name stops and look up from where $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>were<<else>>was<</if>> pacing, a smile brightening $their expression. “Oh, $rname! Has your lesson ended?” $rname smiles back almost reflexively, feeling $rtheir cheeks warm as $rthey clutches $rtheir books a little tighter to $rtheir chest. “It has, Your Highness. Were you waiting for me?” “I thought we could have lunch together,” $name replies, the deep brown of $their eyes, usually appearing black, now warmed into a more vibrant color by the sunlight falling through the windows, flooding the beige walls of the hallway with a radiant glow that is reflected in $name’s gaze. “His Imperial Majesty expects the court meeting will drag on today, considering the Mîr of Şevan is visiting.” Which means the two of them likely won’t have much time to spend together until dinner, and after dinner is when they both tend to be too exhausted to do much more than have a quick bedtime chat before going to sleep. “You and our Crown have certainly had your hands full,” $rname remarks as $rthey joins $name’s side, the two of them walking together as $rname follows to wherever $name wishes to enjoy their lunch together. “Are you nervous? It’s the first time a Mîr will be present, after all.” $name has started leading court meetings for a while now, though it won’t be until Crown Ferzan passes away—and hopefully that won’t be until many years yet—that $name will have the authority to make imperial decrees of $their own. Until then, the ultimate authority still rests with Crown Ferzan, though he has allowed $name to decide on smaller matters. “Not any more nervous than you must be,” $name says, bumping companionably against $rname’s arm, a hand lifting to $rname’s upper back. “Your official evaluation is at the end of the month, isn’t it?” It’s meant to be a friendly, innocent gesture; closeness like this is natural with someone one has spent their childhood with. Yet, $rname avoids $name’s eyes as the weight and the warmth of $name’s hand on $rtheir back has $rtheir heart beginning to race. “So Lady Zerya reminds me every morning,” $rname replies a bit stilted, then clears $rtheir throat. The examination at the School of Zeratun will finally determine $rtheir official rank as a magus—not that $rname cares for their rankings, but for $name’s sake, $they should have a Sorcerer with credibility to rely on. “I’m sure you’ll do great, $rname.” $name’s hand shifts to $rname’s shoulder, squeezing it and making $rname’s heart flutter erratically as surely as $their admiring words do. “I’ve never met a magus more talented and brilliant than you are.” “Thank you.” $rname peeks at $name from the corners of $rtheir eyes, smiling shyly. “I am certain we’ll both do great.” $name gazes back at $rname with fondness, fingers still lingering on $rname’s shoulder, until $they appear<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> distracted, coming to a sudden halt by a door and $their hand regrettably drops away from $rname. “Oh, it’s through here!” $rname follows $name through the door, and brightens at the people already inside. $name’s parents, Harun and Nazire, are already seated at a low table, across from Lady Zerya as the three of them enjoy a cup of tea together, looking up when $name and $rname enter. “Hello, $rname,” Harun greets $rname warmly, glancing at $rtheir books. “Have all your classes ended for the day?” “Not yet.” $rname puts $rtheir books aside and sits down beside Lady Zerya, across from Nazire, while $name sits beside $their mother. “But I only have one evening lesson left.” “I hope $name didn’t interrupt your studies.” Harun looks around Nazire to cast a teasing look at $name. “$cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>were<<else>>was<</if>> so eager to have lunch with you!” “Bavo, you’re exaggerating,” $name mutters with embarrassment, looking everywhere but at $rname. “Sit up straight, dear,” Nazire says as she calmly sips her tea. “How do you expect $rname to hear you from across the table if you keep slouching and mumbling into your chest?” $name exhales a large sigh at the continued teasing while $rname smothers a chuckle behind $rtheir hand. Lady Zerya takes pity on the Crown’s Successor, tactfully shifting the topic, though she casts amused glances at her student and their ruler-to-be. The day is peaceful—and $rname hopes many more like it will follow. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At a Masquerade@@ From the moment $xname locks eyes with the stranger from across the hall, $xthey finds $xthemselves bewitched. Perhaps it is their magic signature that $xname can feel even from a distance, a radiant warmth that floods the room, or perhaps it’s something about their gaze—black eyes glittering under the lantern lights, peeking through the holes of an elegant, feathered black mask—that draws $xname towards them. To be attending a masquerade ball hosted by Crown Ferzan, they must be someone of significant standing, but their unassuming black garments, albeit luxurious, makes it impossible to guess their identity at a glance. Such is the entire point of a masquerade, after all. $xname $xthemselves dressed in crimson robes, donning a lion-themed mask of $xtheir own. Unlike others, $xthey did not go so far as to glamor $xtheir eyes or hair for the occasion. Throughout the night, $xthey wonders if it’s the same for $xtheir stranger as they fall into easy conversation, chatting so naturally it feels as if they’ve known each other for years rather than for a single evening. “You’re from Rojan?” The stranger seems genuinely cheered by that fact. “Me too. It has been many months since I’ve visited.” “I’d be happy to take you,” $xname responds with a smile. “You live in Zerat, then?” “Fishing for more information?” The stranger grins back at $xthem, teasing, and looks all the more enticing for it. “You’ll have to try harder if you want to figure out my identity.” $xname finds $xthemselves unable to remove $xtheir gaze, the rest of the hall filled with guests falling away completely. “Should I take that as a challenge?” The stranger appears equally as fixated on $xthem, peering back at $xname with intrigue. “If you want to.” They spend the entire night like this, exchanging banter and orbiting each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The hours fly by until, regrettably, the masquerade ball comes to an end. $xname escorts $xtheir captivating stranger through the corridors of the palace, towards one of the exits. “Do you think,” $xname says as they come to a halt at the end of the corridor, “that I could see you again?” The mouth underneath where the stranger’s black mask cuts off curves into a smile. “I’m sure you could if you wanted to,” they reply cryptically, the moonlight falling through the windows reflecting a playful gleam in their eye. How cheeky. “I do want to,” $xname says earnestly, reaching for their hand—the stranger’s fingers meet $xtheirs halfway and they twine together. “Very much.” “Who would I be to refuse the Pale Sword?” $xname is surprised for a moment, but then laughs, shaking $xtheir head. “When did you figure it out?” “About halfway through the night.” The stranger looks pleased with their correct guess, squeezing $xname’s hand back. “What about you? Have you figured out who I am yet?” $xname takes a breath, shifting closer, and the stranger does not back away—if anything, they lean towards $xname just as much. “To be frank, I don’t think I care anymore,” $xname confesses. “But would you allow me to take off your mask?” $cxthey waits until the stranger finally gives a small nod. Untangling their hands, $xname grabs the edges of the stranger’s mask with $xtheir fingers, gently pulling it off. And comes face to face with the Crown’s Successor. For a moment, $xname is speechless. $cxthey has only ever seen $name from a short distance before, whenever $xname was asked by the Crown himself to fulfill a request; they’ve never had reason to exchange words, or to even pay attention to each other beyond that. Part of it is because $xname dismissed $them as no doubt as spoiled as one would expect from a person raised in the lap of luxury, but over the course of the night $name has proven $themselves to be so different from $xtheir assumptions that $xname almost feels embarrassed for it. $name has a knowing look in $their eyes as $xname continues to stare at $their face, drinking it all in. “Well? Am I who you hoped I’d be?” $xname doesn’t say anything in reply, merely reaches out $xtheir hand to gently cup $name’s face, palm pressing against $name’s cheek and thumb caressing it in wonder. “That’s not why I took off your mask,” $xname says, taking $xtheir own off next and carelessly dropping it to the floor as $xthey closes the small gap left between them. $name’s eyes alight with realization as to $xname’s intent, $their breath catching audibly as $their hands grip at $xname’s waist. $xname pauses, $xtheir lips a hair’s breadth removed from $name’s. “Too forward of me?” $cthey remain<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> silent for an instant, and $xname almost thinks to pull away, until $name finally murmurs back, “A kiss goodnight is only polite, isn’t it?” “Goodnight?” $xname asks quietly, a smile widening on $xtheir face. “Not goodbye?” “No.” $name’s fingers squeeze lightly around $xname’s waist. “Not goodbye.” “Then, for now, Your Highness…” $xname’s nose brushes lightly against $name’s as $xthey tilts $xtheir head, angling $xtheir mouth, “…goodnight.” And $xname kisses $them. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Together in the Palace@@ “Your Highness, please be careful!” $dname looks up at the Royal Palace’s apadana, finding a familiar figure hurrying toward $dthem as $dthey walks alongside $dtheir mother, who is dressed in her customary ceremonial golden armor. A small retinue of soldiers follows them, as they’re all greeted by no one other than the Crown’s successor. $name slows as $they reach<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> the edge of the roofed hall, standing still in front of the steps. $ctheir garments look slightly askew, and $they appear<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> visibly out of breath as if $they rushed through the entire palace to meet them. $dname finds $dthemselves staring as $dthey and $dtheir mother approach the apadana, giving customary salutes as they both greet $name, though $dname, in particular, finds $dtheir gaze lingering. It has been many weeks since they left the capital, and $dthey cannot deny to $dthemselves that out of everyone that resides here, $dthey has missed $name’s presence the most. “Your Highness,” $dtheir mother speaks as they salute and bow, $name casting her a smile, though $their gaze flickers to $dname before it returns to the general again. “General,” $name replies, still slightly out of breath as $they attempt<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to furtively smooth out some wrinkles in $their garments. “It is good to see you again. I hope the journey went well?” “We did not encounter any obstacles, Your Highness,” the general replies, though she similarly casts $dname a glance from the corner of her eyes. $dname averts $dtheir gaze to the ground, wondering if $dthey is being too obvious with $dtheir staring. “That is good to hear.” $name pauses for a moment, before clearing $their throat. “Could I offer you some tea before you go to see His Imperial Majesty? I’m afraid he is still in the midst of a meeting with diplomatic envoys from Ivia.” “We would be honored.” Of course, $dname’s mother would not turn down an invitation from the Successor. However, her next words are unexpected. “Forgive me, but before that, might I have a moment alone with my <<if $dgender is 'male'>>son<<else>>daughter<</if>>? There is something we must still discuss.” “Of course,” $name answers, and when $dname finally lifts $dtheir gaze to look at $name, $dthey finds that $name’s eyes are already on $dthem. The dark of them brightened into a warmer brown from the sunlight that falls across the apadana, almost captivating $dname for a moment. “Take all the time you need.” $name takes $their leave, and $dname finally turns to $dtheir mother with a puzzled look. The knowing look on her face makes $dname feel exposed. “What is the matter, mother?” $dname asks, $dtheir mouth feeling dry. “I have been thinking,” she starts, eyes narrowing slightly in thought, “of your future.” Where did this come from, all of a sudden? She clarifies a moment later, “Do you intend to serve in the Imperial Army for the rest of your life, $dname?” “I…” $dname hesitates. “I hadn’t thought about it.” It’s a lie. $cdthey <em>has</em> thought about it, extensively. “The Empire is stable,” $dtheir mother continues. “Penawar is at peace. The Crown has secured his successor, who will soon be taking over more duties at court. Has it truly not crossed your mind?” $dname remains silent. $cdthey has known $name for years, now; $dname met $them the first time $dthey accompanied $dtheir mother to the capital, having newly gained the rank of becoming her lieutenant. The attraction between them became quickly apparent, though neither acted on it; $dname’s visits to the capital were too irregular, and $name was swamped with $their studies. Yet, every time they see each other, it reignites, and at times $dname cannot help but wonder… “Perhaps it has crossed my mind,” $dname finally admits, avoiding $dtheir mother’s eyes. “A little.” $cdtheir mother’s hand grips $dtheir shoulder, pulling $dname’s gaze towards her. They share the same height, though $dname is taller by the slightest margin. Their eyes, too, are similar, though $dname has not inherited $dtheir mother’s thick curls, kept short as to not impede her. She smiles sadly at $dname. “All these years, you have served dutifully by my side, but I cannot allow you to follow me anymore, $dname. As your mother, I would never forgive myself.” “It was my choice,” $dname insists, frowning at the thought that she may be blaming herself for it. “It has always been my choice.” “Because you are a good child, and you wished to share my burdens.” $cdtheir mother sighs. “It’s time you sought out your own path. Whatever it may be, even if it leads you back here, I will support you. But first, you must explore it on your own. Decide what <em>you</em> want to do.” $dname’s frown deepens, wrinkling between $dtheir brows as $dthey finds $dthemselves at a slight loss. “I… must confess that I wouldn’t even know where to start.” $cdtheir mother’s smile brightens, turning $dname around and giving $dthem a push in the back, towards the apadana. “Start with having tea with our future Crown.” $dname sputters, feeling heat rush to $dtheir face as $dthey looks over $dtheir shoulder at her. “Mother?” “Go on.” She waves $dname off, a tinge of mischief in the curl of her lips. “Enjoy it!” $dname lingers only for a moment longer, before $dthey smiles back at her and nods, turning to head up the steps of the apadana, no longer hesitating as $dthey makes up $dtheir mind. $cdthey still does not know what the future holds, but there is one thing $dtheir heart wants that $dthey has always been sure about— From the very day $dthey and $name first met. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Together in the Palace@@ “$aname!” $aname turns around, having been in the middle of a discussion with some of the Imperial Guards in the royal gardens—only to come face to face with the Crown's Successor running across the lawn in a panic. Reflexively, $aname’s hand reaches down for the dagger tucked at the front of $atheir cloth waist belt, the other guards reaching for their swords. From a cursory sensing of the area, however, the palace wards remain in place and there are no unknown magic signatures nearby. $aname’s brows furrow in confusion as $name reaches $athem only to slip behind $athem and hide behind $aname’s frame. <<if $height is 'very tall'>>Which looks rather comical, considering $name is taller than $aname is.<</if>><<if $height is 'tall'>>Which $name doesn’t entirely succeed in, considering they’re both the same height.<</if>> “Hide me!” $name says, and while $aname arches $atheir brows, $athey still turns towards the other guards and gestures for them to come forward. After a moment’s confusion, the guards catch on and line up on either side of $aname, forming a wall in front of $ctheir Highness to adequately hide $them. Moments later, the reason for it appears at the other end of the gardens, emerging from the palace: one of the Successor’s tutors. “Protector!” The tutor marches across the lawn directly for them. Small wonder considering how blatantly obvious it is that $name is hiding behind the guards. $aname, by the grace of the spirits, manages to keep a straight face as the tutor approaches in a huff. “Can I help you?” “Please tell $ctheir Highness to attend $their classes,” the tutor grumbles, casting a glance down at $aname and the guards’ legs, from behind which $name’s own feet are no doubt very visible. If only they had a guard with them who could hide $name with magic, but $aname has not mastered $atheir aura magic to that extent yet. “If I see $ctheir Highness, I will inform $them of your concern,” $aname says, $atheir lips tensing in an effort not to split into a laugh when $athey feels $name’s elbow prod unappreciatively in $atheir back. The tutor narrows their eyes and tries to walk around the wall of guards and, as if out of a comedic theater play, $aname and the two guards at either side of $athem turn along with the tutor to keep hiding $name, who $aname can feel clinging to the back of $atheir robe as $they nearly stumble<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> at the sudden movement. “Your Highness—!” “Is not here,” $aname insists, interrupting the tutor, who finally gives up and breathes out a deep sigh. “Very well.” The tutor frowns at $aname. “But $they cannot keep avoiding $their evening classes forever!” $aname watches the tutor walk away, and only when they have disappeared back into the palace do the guards step aside and does $aname turn to face $name. $name gives a sheepish smile. “Thanks for that.” After a moment’s pause, $aname gestures down a path of the gardens. “Walk with me.” $cathey dismisses the other guards as $name quietly follows along beside $aname, avoiding looking at $athem. $aname guides the both of them down a path framed with flowering trees in the bloom of spring, offering some privacy from the windows of the palace, before $athey finally speaks. “Are your duties getting to be too much for you?” $name exhales a short breath. “A little.” $cthey hesitate<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>. “I don’t want to sound… spoiled, but—” “You know I wouldn’t judge you.” $name meets $aname’s eyes, and smiles softly. “I know. You never have.” Ever since $aname was appointed as $name’s Protector a year ago—different from the Crown’s Royal Protector, though it is only one step below it—$name and $aname have been inseparable. It comes with the territory of being tasked with $name’s safety, but once $aname revealed that $athey $athemselves was raised in the palace as Crownsblood, they bonded quickly over the shared experience, and they have only grown closer since. More than master and servant, more than friends, they are each other’s closest confidantes—and perhaps even something more than that. $name’s hand brushes $aname’s, catching $atheir fingers. $aname averts $atheir eyes to the path ahead, even as $athey gently wraps $atheir hand around $name’s in turn, squeezing it lightly, ignoring the warmth that rushes up to $atheir face as the two of them walk hand-in-hand. “You have heard how His Imperial Majesty has started to let me lead the morning court meetings?” $name says, a thumb brushing idly over $aname’s hand. “I know it’s important to keep studying, but between all my preparations for <em>that</em> and the assignments given to me by my tutors…” $aname knows firsthand what $name speaks of; whenever $name isn’t in class or in a court meeting, $aname finds $them nose-deep in some old tome or scouring through scrolls trying to study for class or prepare for the next day’s court meeting. $name has admirably kept $their composure until now, but after several months of this, it’s obvious to $aname that $name would reach a point of exhaustion eventually. “You should speak to Ferzan about it,” $aname advises. “If you asked, I’m certain he would lessen the load on your schedule.” $name looks conflicted as $they stare<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> down at the ground, frowning deeply. “It wouldn’t disappoint him.” $aname tugs on $name’s hand, drawing $name’s gaze up to $athem. “Your health is what’s most important. What good would it do you, or him, or Arsur for that matter, to have you fall ill from fatigue? You need to speak to him about these things, $name. He can’t read your mind, and you know how busy the Crown gets. If you don’t tell him, he has no way of knowing.” “Aside from hearing my tutors complain about how I’m shirking my lessons, you mean?” $name jests, $their expression lightening, and $aname chuckles. “I suppose that’s one way to grab his attention.” “You’re right, of course.” $name stops walking, and $aname follows suit. “I was scared of disappointing him, but I should trust that he will understand and ttalk to him. Thank you, $aname. You always see things so clearly.” “Did it take you this long to figure that out?” $aname quips, shooting $name a lopsided grin. “You should’ve known by now that—” $catheir words are cut off as $name steps forward, wrapping $their arms around $aname’s waist and enveloping $athem in a hug. $aname’s heart flutters unsteadily in $atheir chest, but after a moment, $athey lifts $atheir arms and returns the embrace. Whatever they are—be it Successor and Protector now, or Crown and Royal Protector in the future—they will always have each other to lean on. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Select whether your Crown is flirtatious or reserved during this scene: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Flirtatious|R LIB FLIRT]]</li> <li>[[Reserved|R LIB RES]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Studying Together@@ You exhale a deep sigh as you glance over the same page it feels like you have been rereading for the past hour, seated on a chair at a high table in your personal library. The words you’re meant to memorize have begun to blur together, and try as you might, none of the information is being absorbed into your mind after several hours of studying. From the corner of your eyes, a hand appears in view, placing down a cup of steaming black tea in front of you. $rname smiles up at you before settling down in the chair besides yours. “You looked as if you could use it.” “Thank you,” you reply sincerely, taking a break from looking at the page to pick up the cup and sip from your tea. You close your eyes and exhale a sigh as you put the cup down again, already feeling better now that you’re no longer trying to break your head open on your studying materials. A touch at the back of your neck nearly startles you, but then you relax as you feel $rname’s warm fingertips—always heated, somehow—begin to massage your nape in soothing circles. “There’s no rush, $name. If you feel tired, you should call it a day.” “It’s just…” You lean back into $rname’s hand, a shiver running down your spine when $rtheir fingers dip beneath the collar of your garments. “I’m almost finished, it would be a shame to leave it off here.” $rname hums thoughtfully as you finally open your eyes to look at $rthem again, wishing you were seated at a low table so you could lean over and rest your head in $rtheir lap as you tend to do whenever you find yourself fatigued. As if reading your desire for closeness from your face, $rname’s gaze softens with mirth and fondness, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It is a brief peck, and you halfway chase after $rthem when $rthey pulls away again. $crthey chuckles as you catch yourself, straightening with a pleased smile of your own. “Was that all?” you can’t help but ask, though you glance at the servants who tend to your library, a few of them who have been staring quickly looking away and giggling amongst each other. “Should we…” $rname’s words pull your gaze back to $rthem, and $rthey appears to hesitate, peering back at you with a shy look. Taking a breath, $rthey says, “Should we find somewhere more… private?” You stare at $rthem in surprise when $rthey proposes what you had been meaning to, as $rname is usually not so bold. $rname quickly averts $rtheir gaze again, fidgeting self-consciously in $rtheir seat. “Never mind, I didn’t mean to—” “I’d love to,” you reassure quickly, almost startling $rname, whose cheeks darken even further at your earnest response. “Do you have somewhere in mind?” $rname glances towards the bookcases, and your brows arch up to your hairline. “Really?” $crthey lifts from $rtheir seat, casting a furtive look at you, lips quirking in a timid smile even as $rtheir eyes watch you with expectation—with yearning—and you have to force yourself to stay seated as $rthey retreats behind the bookcases. You wait for a while, so as to not make it look obvious, though you imagine the servants know very well what’s going on considering most of them begin to leave the library. After a short while, you get up from your seat, and head straight for the bookcases lined in rows on the other end of the library. It doesn’t take you long to find $rname in the very back, $rtheir gaze lighting up at your appearance. “Hello again,” $rthey murmurs, arms already reaching out for you as you step into $rtheir embrace, your heart pounding with anticipation. $rname gives you a knowing look, amusement curling in $rtheir lips as $rtheir arms wrap around your waist. “Will this help with your studying, I wonder, or only serve to distract you further?” “I don’t think I care anymore,” you whisper back, and lean in to catch $rname’s soft laughter with your lips, smothering it between your mouths as you melt into each other. Your books remain on the table, completely forgotten. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Studying Together@@ You exhale a deep sigh as you glance over the same page it feels like you have been rereading for the past hour, seated on a chair at a high table in your personal library. The words you’re meant to memorize have begun to blur together, and try as you might, none of the information is being absorbed into your mind after several hours of studying. From the corner of your eyes, a hand appears in view, placing down a cup of steaming black tea in front of you. $rname smiles up at you before settling down in the chair besides yours. “You looked as if you could use it.” “Thank you,” you reply sincerely, taking a break from looking at the page to pick up the cup and sip from your tea. You close your eyes and exhale a sigh as you put the cup down again, already feeling better now that you’re no longer trying to break your head open on your studying materials. A touch at the back of your neck nearly startles you, but then you relax as you feel $rname’s warm fingertips—always heated, somehow—begin massaging your nape in soothing circles. “There’s no rush, $name. If you feel tired, you should call it a day.” “It’s just…” You lean back into $rname’s hand, a shiver running down your spine when $rtheir fingers dip beneath the collar of your garments. “I’m almost finished, it would be a shame to leave it off here.” $rname hums thoughtfully as you finally open your eyes to look at $rthem again, wishing you were seated at a low table so you could lean over and rest your head in $rtheir lap. As if reading your desire for closeness from your face, $rname’s gaze softens with mirth and fondness, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It is a brief peck, and you halfway chase after $rthem when $rthey pulls away again. $crthey chuckles as you catch yourself, your cheeks burning with a flush as you straighten up. “Sorry,” you offer, glancing at the servants who tend to your library, a few of them who have been staring quickly looking away and giggling among each other. “Should we…” $rname’s words pull your gaze back to $rthem, and $rthey appears to hesitate, peering back at you with a shy look. Taking a breath, $rthey says, “Should we find somewhere more… private?” Your lips nearly part in shock, and $rname quickly averts $rtheir gaze again, fidgeting self-consciously in $rtheir seat. “Never mind, I didn’t mean to—” “No!” you blurt out, almost startling $rname, then clear your throat as you lower your voice, blood running hot beneath your skin. “I mean- I would like that. Do you, ah, have somewhere in mind?” $rname glances towards the bookcases, and your brows arch up to your hairline. “Really?” $crthey lifts from $rtheir seat, casting a furtive look at you, lips quirking in a timid smile even as $rtheir eyes watch you with expectation—with yearning—and you have to force yourself to stay seated as $rthey retreats behind the bookcases. You wait for a while, so as to not make it look obvious, though you imagine the servants know very well what’s going on considering most of them begin to leave the library. After a short while, you get up from your seat, and head straight for the bookcases lined in rows on the other end of the library. It doesn’t take you long to find $rname in the very back, $rtheir gaze lighting up at your appearance. “Hello again,” $rthey murmurs, arms already reaching out for you as you step into $rtheir embrace, your heart pounding with anticipation. $rname gives you a knowing look, amusement curling in $rtheir lips as $rtheir arms wrap around your waist. “Will this help with your studying, I wonder, or only serve to distract you further?” “I don’t think I care anymore,” you whisper back, and lean in to catch $rname’s soft laughter with your lips, smothering it between your mouths as you melt into each other. Your books remain on the table, completely forgotten. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Ambushed@@ It was meant to be a simple journey from Zeratun back to Marabad for the summer season. $xname directed the Blades to work together with the Imperial Guards, but by this point, they didn’t expect much would happen; there shouldn’t be anyone left on the entire continent foolish enough to attempt an ambush against the Pale Sword to get to the Crown. That was before a giant wolf burst through the bushes, however. Bandits, assassins, soldiers—all regular opponents $xname is intimately familiar with, able to dispatch them with ease. Wild beasts, especially feral ones that behave erratically and irrationally, are an entirely different story. $cxtheir specialty is combat against other <em>people</em>, not animals. As soon as the wolf leaps out from between the trees, it hones in on $name, who opted to ride on horseback to enjoy the cool evening air rather than use $their warded carriage. $xname had fallen back a few paces to discuss something with Heval, walking along on foot, and with a sinking horror $xthey realizes that $xthey won’t be able to make it to $name in time before the wolf gets at least one attack in. $name’s eyes flash with simultaneous realization, hands lifting to call upon $their magic as the wolf lunges for $them in what is an utterly suicidal attack. The Imperial Guards surrounding $name wield spears and swords that stab and cut at the wolf’s underbelly, but the pain of it does not seem to register to the feral beast as it tries to pounce on $name, whose horse rears back in panic and nearly throws $them off the saddle. A blinding light and a wave of incredible heat erupts through the forest as $xname and every other Blade and guard rushes to the Crown’s aid. $cxthey hears $name cry out, an ice cold fear $xthey has rarely felt before piercing through $xtheir very bones. When the light finally fades, it reveals $name sitting on the ground, a hand wrapped around $their bloodied upper arm, $their horse having bolted. The wolf lays dead before $them, all but gutted open by the attacks of the guards while its head is covered in a gruesome burn mark, all the fur scorched off its skin from $name’s magic. “$name!” $xname rushes forward, heart pounding in $xtheir throat as $xthey kneels down beside $name. “Show me your wound, how bad is it?” $name attempts a shaky smile, though it falters when lowering $their hand from $their injured arm. It reveals a long gash across $their skin, having torn through even their warded garments—but the wards must have lessened the damage significantly. From what $xname can tell at first glance, the slash is from one of the wolf’s massive claws; were it not for the wards, it would have torn $name’s arm clean off. The thought is a terrifying one, and $xname has to take a quick breath to calm $xthemselves before $xtheir own hands start to shake. “Could’ve been worse,” $name voices as if having read $xname’s mind, seeming to attempt a jest despite the pain $they must be in. $xname musters up a faint smile, other hand lifting to cup $name's cheek. “Look at you, my fierce hunter. You’ve slain your first beast.” It gets a chuckle out of $name, though $they flinch<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> again when the motion jostles $their arm. “Ah… I don’t think that counts. The guards impaled it first.” Thankfully, the healers that were traveling with them have followed right on $xname’s heels, and $xname shifts aside to let them kneel down beside $name. “Please hold still a moment, Your Imperial Majesty,” one of them cautions as they reach for $name’s arm. “This will hurt only for a moment.” $name’s brows furrow with trepidation, and $xname offers a hand for $them to hold. $cthey gratefully take<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> it, and a moment later, squeeze<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> the ever-loving life out of it with a pained grunt as one of the healers uses a careful application of magic to neatly push the gash on $their arm closed. The other healer meanwhile presses their fingers to the pulse point in $name’s wrist on $their injured arm, the most direct connection to $their magic. The healer's rejuvenating aura glows a soft green off $their form as it is transferred to $name, whose own magic lights up $their arm in gold while it is fed with the healer’s rejuvenating spell. The slash across $their skin mends itself within mere moments, leaving nothing but a thin, pink scar in its place when it's done. $name exhales a deep breath of relief as no doubt the pain fades with the injury healed, fingers easing around $xname’s hand while one of the healers carefully cleans up the blood still covering $their skin. It has soaked through most of $their sleeve. “You should eat something,” $xname cautions with worry, keeping hold of $name’s hand. “You lost quite a bit of blood from that wound.” “I am feeling a little faint,” $name admits, “but I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you, $xname—you look pale. Did I frighten you?” Were this any other situation, $xname would play it off with a witty quip and laugh it away. But the thought that if it hadn’t been for $name’s magic, or if it hadn’t been for the guards who limited the wolf’s reach with their attacks, that $xthey could have <em>lost</em> $name to such a senseless attack— $xname does not answer, instead surging forward to wrap $name into a tight embrace. The healers nearly startle, but then stand up again and courteously avert their gazes, similar to the guards hovering nearby. After a moment of surprise, $name eases into the embrace winding $their arms around $xname in turn and stroking $xtheir back, as if $xname is the one who suffered an attack and needs to be comforted. “I’m alright, $xname. I'm safe. The danger has passed.” $xname buries $xtheir face in the crook of $name’s neck, feeling the warmth of $their body and inhaling $their scent as $xthey repeats $name's words to regain some semblance of rationality. Finally, $xname’s rabbiting heartbeat begins to calm and $xtheir fear ebbs away. $cxthey pulls back to look at $name, who smiles reassuringly, and it almost makes $xname feel like a child rather than a seasoned mercenary. “I think you should probably reconsider using your highly-warded carriage for the rest of the journey,” $xname proposes, trying to inject some levity into the air, and $name graciously lets $xthem maintain the pretense of $xtheir composure. “Only if you join me.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Good Morning@@ When morning comes, you wake feeling warm and at ease, more rested than you have been in weeks. The reason for that is curled up beside you beneath the covers of your bed, an arm draped around your waist. Rhythmic breaths brush gently against your bare shoulder and neck with each slow exhale, and when you turn your head to look, you find $aname’s peacefully sleeping face beside you, not yet stirring at your movements. You remain still to admire $athem for a while; it’s a sight only you get to see, of $aname completely unguarded like this as $athey slumbers. It seems you well and truly exhausted $athem last night, as usually $athey wakes up before you early in the mornings. By now, judging by the angle of the sunlight falling in through the windows, it’s nearly noon. In the end, though, you cannot resist but lift a hand to $aname’s cheek, caressing it with the back of your knuckles. This slight touch finally rouses $aname, lips parting to inhale a deep breath, before exhaling it in a pleased, humming sigh. Moments later, $atheir eyes flutter open, gaze distant at first, before it focuses on your face. “Good morning,” you greet in a murmur, and even after how many times you’ve woken up beside $athem like this, the sight of $aname’s soft smile still makes your heart skip a beat. “Morning,” $aname replies, tilting $atheir head to kiss your knuckles before you retract your hand. “Did you sleep well?” “I slept great.” You turn onto your side to face $athem fully, winding your arm around $atheir waist in turn. “How about you?” “Had some very pleasant dreams,” $aname muses, eyes slipping shut again as $athey shifts a little closer to you, your legs idly tangling between each other. “Was I in any of them?” $aname cracks an eye open, mirth alight in $atheir gaze. “You’ve claimed all of my waking thoughts, and now you want to claim my dreams too?” $cathey lets a grin slip despite $atheir teasing, admitting, “Yes. You were in every single one.” You can’t help but grin back, running your fingers up the skin of $atheir warm back and drawing a little shiver out of $athem. “You almost sound like you want to dream a little longer.” “And forgo the reality of having you in my arms?” $aname scoffs playfully. “I could never. Unless you want to sleep a while longer?” You consider the merits of it, remembering that you cleared your schedule for the day in advance specifically so you would have more time to spend with $aname. There’s also the fact that your clothes are strewn about the room, and going to fetch them would mean leaving the comfort of the bed and $aname behind. Unless an emergency happens, the servants and the guards have also been particularly instructed not to disturb you. “I don’t necessarily want to sleep, but let’s stay in bed for a bit,” you propose, and $aname arches $atheir brows at you. “Just to talk?” You snort a laugh. “Already having such thoughts moments after waking up? I’m almost impressed. Or should I be worried that you didn’t get your fill last night?” The way $aname’s gaze sharpens with something much more <em>attentive</em> draws a familiar heat to the surface of your skin, $aname’s hand around your waist almost feeling heavier with the weight of $atheir intent. “Not from any lacking on your part,” $athey replies in a low tone, your heart beginning to beat faster in anticipation. “I don’t think I’ll ever have enough.” You take a short breath, the warmth beneath the sheets suddenly feeling sweltering. “Me neither.” “So… round four?” You laugh. “Were you actually keeping count?” “I might have lost track after three,” $aname admits as $athey shifts, pushing $athemselves up to lean over you while you turn over onto your back again, $aname gazing down at you with a potent blend of affection and desire. “But if you’re too <em>tired</em>, Your Majesty…” You frown at $atheir taunt, though your offense is feigned. “By all means, test me if you dare, <em>Your Highness</em>.” $aname smirks at you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Don’t mind if I do.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Learning How to Swim@@ $name insists on visiting the beach on a whim. The Imperial Household has opted to use the aptly named Autumn Palace in Ilwan, Avdin’s coastal capital city; it is the season when the summer heat cools into something more pleasant, and the sea is still warm enough to enjoy. $aname gave $name a personal tour of the finest places to visit in Ilwan, though with all $their work $name did not have much of a chance to enjoy it yet. So when $they ask<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $dname to spend some time with $them on the beach, how could $dname refuse? The palace in Ilwan has a section of beach entirely for the Crown’s private use, taking only a short walk down the stone stairs built out of the cliffs surrounding it to get there. $name and $dname are both dressed in silk bathrobes as they head down, finding the servants having already erected a tent large enough to fit two chairs and a small table of refreshments to enjoy in the shade whenever they grow tired of swimming. “I feel spoiled,” $name confesses as they both descend the steps down to the beach, looking on the expanse of white sand between the cliffs all $name's own to enjoy—save for $dname, the servants and Imperial Guards ever present to serve, of course. “Perhaps next time you can invite more people to join you, then,” $dname suggests, and $name looks thoughtful at the idea. “A small banquet at the beach for all of my friends?” $cthey smiles at the thought as the two of them walk across the sand in their sandals. “That sounds pleasant. For now, though, it’s just the two of us—I suppose you’re going to swim immediately?” “Of course.” $dname casts $them a questioning look. “Are you not?” “I’d like to, but I’m afraid I never learned how to swim.” $name looks a little sheepish as they approach the edge of the water together, two servants trailing behind them, and they both take their sandals off. “I can tread water without drowning, but that’s about it.” “If you can already do that much, then learning how to swim won’t be much more difficult,” $dname reassures while taking $dtheir bathrobe off and handing it over to one of the servants with a word of thanks. When $dthey looks back at $name, $dthey finds the Crown staring, eyes wandering over the flowering vines that cover $dname’s skin from $dtheir neck down to $dtheir ankles. Specifically, lingering around $dname’s hips that are covered by $dtheir undergarments, and $dname can’t help but breathe out a quiet laugh at the thought that is rather transparent on $name’s face. The sound snaps $name out of $their staring, trying—and failing—to hold back a small, playful smile as $they clear<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their throat and avert<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their gaze to the water. “It’s nothing you have not seen before,” $dname points out, brows arching slightly with a hint of mirth, though $dthey finds $dtheir own eyes wandering when $name shrugs out of $their own bathrobe and hands it to the other servant. “This is different,” $they argue<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, letting $dname take $their hand and lead $them into the water. The temperature is at a level of perfect comfort, the waves calm and the wind a gentle breeze; ideal for a beginner. “We’re in public—” “I wouldn’t call a private beach public.” “Outdoors, then!” $dname casts a glance at $name from over $dtheir shoulder. “Do you find that enticing?” “Are you going to teach me how to swim, or do you want me distracted?” Despite $name’s playfully exasperated tone, $dname can’t help but note $they sound<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> slightly breathless. Something to ponder later. “Fair enough.” It seems, however, that the damage has already been done. Rather than a lesson in swimming, it ends up becoming $name clinging to $dname in the water, which $dname isn’t wholly convinced doesn’t function as an excuse merely for $name to touch $dthem. “You really enjoy swimming, don’t you?” $name remarks when they’ve spent an hour in the sea, and $dname shows no signs of wanting to get out despite $dtheir pruning skin. Considering it’s nearly noon and the sun will be at its highpoint soon, however, they should probably seek shade. “If you had not noticed, I’m quite tall and heavy in stature,” $dname replies, watching $name float on $their back. “In the water is the only time I feel light on my feet.” ‘That’s… surprisingly endearing.” $name casts $dthem a teasing a look. “I thought you were going to have some sort of practical reason. Such as… <em>I need to know how to swim should I ever need to save you from drowning to death, Your Imperial Majesty</em>.” $dname frowns and pulls on $name’s ankle, $name shouting out an undignified squawk before quickly righting $themselves onto $their feet. “Do not even jest about such a thing.” “But that’s why I want you to teach me how to swim!” $name’s voice is thick with laughter, though $they lift<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their hands to $dname’s face in a gesture of soothing, cradling $dtheir cheeks. “That, and because you’re fond of it.” $dname leans into it, tension dissipating so easily that $dthey cannot help but wonder if this was not $name’s true magic all along, and $their sun affinity was simply a ruse. “I’m glad to share this with you,” $dname speaks after a moment. “Potentially life-threatening situations aside—we should do this more often.” $name smiles wide, fondness glittering in $their eyes like the sparks off sunlight rippling across the sea’s surface. “The High General taking a voluntary leave of absence… for <em>recreation</em>?” “For you,” $dname corrects, lifting a hand to cover $name’s on $dtheir cheek— The swimming lesson entirely forgotten. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At a Masquerade@@ From the moment $rname’s gaze meets that of the stranger across the hall, a flutter dances in $rtheir chest, and $rtheir fingers instinctively grip the edges of $rtheir silver robe. There’s an inexplicable pull, a magnetic force that draws $rthem towards the enigmatic figure. Their dark eyes, framed by their elegant black-feathered mask, seem to hold secrets untold—ones $rname finds $rthemselves drawn to unravel. $crthey could not say why, beyond the fact that the urge moves $rtheir feet before $rthey even realizes it. $rname, too, wears a mask for the occasion. It is a delicate creation decorated with the carving of a serpent coiling around $rtheir eyes. $rthey has also opted to wear $rtheir hair up in an intricately braided bun, thin silver chains draped between $rtheir tresses with tiny coins that dangle from them. Matching $rtheir mask are earrings shaped like snakes that hang down from $rtheir earlobes, as well as serpentine rings cuffed around $rtheir wrists. While $rthey takes the first steps towards the stranger, the realization of $rtheir own uncharacteristic boldness renders $rthem too shy to fully initiate—but thankfully, the stranger meets $rthem halfway, seeming just as drawn to $rname as $rname is to them. As they engage in conversation $rname’s heart beats like a drum, $rtheir words soft and measured, betraying $rtheir apprehension in the wisdom of this idea. The stranger could be anyone, looking to take advantage of Lady Zerya’s student who has yet to be formally introduced at court; it is $rname’s first time at the palace after $rtheir years of study under tutors all over Arsur. Even if such worries were not a consideration, however, $rtheir etiquette is not as polished as $rtheir knowledge of magic, and $rthey finds $rthemselves internally wincing many times as $rthey speaks. Yet, to $rtheir surprise, the stranger listens with genuine interest, not a speck of judgment visible in their eyes. The way they speak, while well-educated, is not haughty or presumptuous like many nobles $rname has met before, and it sets $rthem so at ease that $rthey soon forgets $rtheir own nerves as the conversation continues. “You’re from Rojan?” $rname ventures with subdued enthusiasm; while $rtheir travels took $rthem far for $rtheir studies, $rthey has dearly missed $rtheir home province. The stranger’s smile brightens. “Indeed. I have a particular fondness for Marabad; it’s been too long since I walked its streets.” “I could show you around if you’d like,” $rname offers, heat gathering in $rtheir cheeks. “I was raised here.” “Ah, but then you’d have to uncover the mystery,” the stranger teases with a tap to the edge of their mask, their eyes twinkling with amusement. $rname’s fingers toy nervously with the silver coins dangling from $rtheir waist belt. “Would that be such a bad thing?” The stranger’s gaze warms, making $rname’s stomach swoop. “No. Not at all.” Their banter continues, each exchange drawing them closer, the rest of the world fading into the background. And, as the night wanes, $rname finds $rthemselves at a crossroads, $rtheir footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as $rthey walks beside the stranger. $crthey must return to $rtheir uncle’s house soon, to finalize the last preparations $rthey needs to make before moving into the palace—to $rtheir regret, $rthey can’t stay out late. Which means the night is almost over. $crtheir mouth feels dry, yet $rthey takes a breath, determined not to let this moment pass $rthem by as $rthey asks, “About my offer from before…” “To show me around Marabad?” The stranger tilts their head slightly, appearing pensive. $rname almost thinks they will reject $rthem, until they say, “Meet me outside the palace tomorrow, in front of the apadana. I will await you there.” $rname can’t hope to hold back $rtheir smile, $rtheir pulse skipping with excitement. “I’ll look forward to it.” The stranger reaches down to gently grasp one of $rname’s hands, lifting it towards their lips. $rname watches, wide-eyed and mesmerized as $rtheir heart pounds in $rtheir chest. “Good night, my $rtitle Sorcerer.” $rname is so taken by the kiss pressed to $rtheir knuckles, that the mention of $rtheir soon-to-be formal title does not even register as $rthey murmurs back a breathless, “Good night.” Not until long after the stranger has left does $rthey realize what they called $rthem— And by the time the morning comes, and $rname finds the Crown’s successor waiting on $rthem by the apadana, it is no longer a surprise. “Good morning, Your Highness,” $rthey greets with a radiant smile. It is only a delight. <<back>></div>

<div id="content"><<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>Note that Crowns with their heights set as 'short' or 'very short' default to a scene where the Crown sits on D's lap. I'm so sorry but D would refuse to sit on the lap of a (very) short Crown 💀 So if you would like to see that variation, set your Crown's height to 'average' or taller! [[Continue|D ROM 6 short]]<<else>>Choose a scene variation: [[The Crown sitting on D's lap.|D ROM 6 short]] [[D sitting on the Crown's lap.|D ROM 6 tall]] (only available to Crowns of average height or taller)<</if>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Bathing Together@@ “This seems a bit excessive for two people.” You look up from where you’re already lounging in the heated pool of your underground bathing chamber, finding $dname approaching with $dtheir robe still on to stand at the edge of the pool. “Are you complaining?” you ask, and $dname’s lips tilt slightly. “No.” $cdthey glances at the soaps, washcloths and scrubbing gloves placed on a small tray for you to use—not that you’re bathing for cleanliness. Both of you have had a long day, and you find few things as relaxing as a hot bath. “Only wondering at the potential waste of it.” “I don’t think you’d want me to invite other people to bathe with us for efficiency’s sake, would you?” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes and you breathe a laugh, turning your head away and sinking a little further down into the steaming water. “Not in the way you are thinking of, no.” Your beloved joins you in the pool, robe discarded and leaving $dthem as bare as you are. Unable to help yourself, even though it is a view you have seen many times you cast your eyes over $dname’s toned form with appreciation, a familiar swell of desire heating you more surely from the inside out than the warmed water you’re soaking in. Of course, $dname notices your staring. Mirth glimmers in $dtheir dark eyes as $dthey sits down beside you in the pool, arm lifting to run $dtheir hand idly down your bare back. You suppress a shiver. “I thought you said this bath was for relaxation,” $dthey remarks, and you shift a little closer, taking a handful of water and spilling it over $dtheir chest. Watching the thin rivulets and droplets roll <<if $dgender is 'male'>>across $dtheir thick pecs,<<else>>over and between $dtheir breasts,<</if>> between the flowering vines that cover $dtheir skin. “It is for relaxation,” you reply, managing to drag your eyes back up to $dtheir face, “and there are many things that can be relaxing.” It pulls a laugh from $dname, and it seems $dthey is not too tired for what you have in mind. You shift to move onto $dname’s lap, straddling $dtheir hips, and $dname’s hands reflexively come up to frame your waist, $dtheir amusement increasing. “I can see what <em>other</em> methods you thought of,” $dname comments, though $dthey appears content to simply hold you as you make yourself comfortable. “Do you mind?” you jest, and $dname huffs a breath. “I would’ve thrown you off if I did.” You raise both brows. “$dname, surely you wouldn’t dunk your Crown into the pool?” $cdthey snorts. “You’re only the Crown to me when it suits you, it seems.” In the midst of formulating a reply, you’re immediately distracted when $dname’s hands begin to wander, fingertips trailing up and down your sides, to your hips, around to your backside— “Really?” you say, meaning it to come out sardonic, but the slightly breathless tone of your voice does not convey it well. $dname’s hands pause. “Should I not?” You reach behind you, tugging on $dtheir wrists as a gesture to continue. “I didn’t mean that. But clearly bathing isn’t exactly on <em>your</em> mind either.” “And whose fault is that?” $dname replies, continuing $dtheir exploring and caressing touches. Your breath deepens even further, the steam of the bath now feeling almost suffocating as you wrap your arms around $dname’s shoulders. “I should sit on your lap more often,” you consider, only half a tease. “It would make court meetings a lot more interesting.” $dname exhales a chuckle, shaking $dtheir head. “In the interest of the Empire, I recommend that you don’t. Your attention would wander.” “Would it?” $cdthey suddenly leans forward, brushing a gentle peck to your mouth. “It would,” $dthey promises you, before catching your lips again in a longer, deeper kiss. Heat sparks between you as you hum contentedly against $dname, feeling $dthem breathe a soft sigh between your kisses. When you finally pause, you can’t help but ask, “Less talking, more relaxation?” $dname bites gently onto your lower lip, then pulls you closer onto $dtheir lap with obvious invitation as $dthey murmurs, “You started it.” You can’t argue with that as $dname’s hand slips down between the two of you—your moan echoes against the tiled walls of the chamber, and any actual thought of bathing is soon wholly forgotten. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Bathing Together@@ “This seems a bit excessive for two people.” You look up from where you’re already lounging in the heated pool of your underground bathing chamber, finding $dname approaching with $dtheir robe still on to stand at the edge of the pool. “Are you complaining?” you ask, and $dname’s lips tilt slightly. “No.” $cdthey glances at the soaps, washcloths and scrubbing gloves placed on a small tray for you to use—not that you’re bathing for cleanliness. Both of you have had a long day, and you find few things as relaxing as a hot bath. “Only wondering at the potential waste of it.” “I don’t think you’d want me to invite other people to bathe with us for efficiency’s sake, would you?” $dname rolls $dtheir eyes and you breathe a laugh, turning your head away and sinking a little further down into the steaming water. “Not in the way you are thinking of, no.” Your beloved joins you in the pool, robe discarded and leaving $dthem as bare as you are. Unable to help yourself, even though it is a view you have seen many times you cast your eyes over $dname’s toned form with appreciation, a familiar swell of desire heating you more surely from the inside out than the warmed water you’re soaking in. Of course, $dname notices your staring. Mirth glimmers in $dtheir dark eyes as $dthey sits down beside you in the pool, arm lifting to run $dtheir hand idly down your bare back. You suppress a shiver. “I thought you said this bath was for relaxation,” $dthey remarks, and you shift a little closer, taking a handful of water and spilling it over $dtheir chest. Watching the thin rivulets and droplets roll <<if $dgender is 'male'>>across $dtheir thick pecs,<<else>>over and between $dtheir breasts,<</if>> between the flowering vines that cover $dtheir skin. “It is for relaxation,” you reply, managing to drag your eyes back up to $dtheir face, “and there are many things that can be relaxing.” It pulls a laugh from $dname, and it seems $dthey is not too tired for what you have in mind. You tug at $dthem, giving $dthem a meaningful glance toward your lap, and $dname’s amusement fades as $dthey blinks at you instead. “I, ah…” $cdthey briefly averts $dtheir gaze, uncharacteristic hesitation coloring $dtheir expression. “Are you certain?” Growing concerned, you give $dname a questioning look. “If you don’t want to, then—” “It’s not that.” Perhaps it’s your imagination, or the heat of the bath, but you think you can see a tinge of redness to $dname’s cheeks. “I am merely not accustomed to it, considering my size.” After another moment, $dname appears to make a decision, and shifts to carefully place $dthemselves onto your lap, straddling your hips. You smile up at $dthem, though your lips widen a little in mischief when $dname appears unable to meet your eyes. “Are you uncomfortable?” you ask, placing your hands around $dtheir waist, enjoying the heat and weight of $dthem on top of you. It’s not often that you can coax $dname into things like this; $dthey’s not used to being spoiled in this manner, more accustomed to being the one who tends to lead and who does these kinds of things for $dtheir lover. $dname takes a short breath, then looks at you, $dtheir eyes soft. “No. It’s… different, but I don’t dislike it.” <<if $height is 'tall' or $height is 'average'>>$cdthey frowns a moment later. “I’m not too heavy for you, am I?” “You’re not,” you reassure $dthem; most of $dname’s weight is resting on $dtheir own knees, anyway.<<else>> “Good.” $dname is still a bit heavier than you are, due to the amount of muscle $dthey has, but most of $dtheir weight is resting on $dtheir own knees anyway.<</if>> “I like having you like this. You should sit on my lap more often.” $dname arches a brow, curling $dtheir arms around your shoulders. “I don’t know how well that would go over during court meetings.” You laugh. “Can you imagine! Oh, to see the looks on their faces…” Leaning forward, you brush a soft peck against $dname’s mouth. “Though I think I’d rather keep this for my—” As you begin to pull back again, $dname chases after your lips, catching them in a longer, deeper kiss. The steam of the bath increases the heat that sparks between you as you hum contentedly against $dname, feeling $dthem breathe a soft sigh between your kisses. When you finally pause, you can’t help but ask, “Less talking, more relaxation?” $dname bites gently onto your lower lip, then shifts closer on your lap with obvious invitation as $dthey murmurs, “You started it.” You can’t argue with that, slipping your hand down between the two of you—$dname’s moan echoes against the tiled walls of the chamber, and any actual thought of bathing is soon wholly forgotten. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Choose whether your Crown is an inner magic type or an outer magic type: [[Inner magic|X ROM 3A]] [[Outer magic|X ROM 3B]] <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Saved@@ The attack happens at night. $xname rests beside you in your tent, among an encampment of Crescent Blades and Imperial soldiers. You haven’t received much sleep yourself, having spent much of the night watching over $xname. Someway, somehow, $xthey ingested something that has left $xthem feeling ill. It could very well be a case of food not being prepared correctly entirely on accident, yet you cannot shake the feeling of danger. No one else got sick, and for $xname to fall ill of all people is suspicious to say the least—$xthey is impossible to ambush otherwise, even while slumbering. You brush a wayward lock of hair from $xname’s forehead, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat covering $xtheir skin with your sleeve, $xtheir eyes closed and brows furrowed with discomfort in $xtheir rest. The healer gave $xname a concotion to combat it, and said $xthey will be feeling better by morning, but until then… A sudden commotion lifts your gaze to the opening of the tent. Shouting, followed by an intimidating roar from a short distance away. A beast of some sort, attacking the camp? You hesitate, but ultimately lift to your feet, heading over to the opening of your tent. The Imperial Guards standing watch there turn towards you when you push the flap of the tent aside. “What’s going on?” you ask, glancing over towards the other side of the encampment where you can see soldiers gathering. “A wild bear has attacked the camp,” one of the guards informs you. “The army has it under control.” A bear attack? Even as powerful a beasts as they are, bears would not attack an entire camp filled with countless people, even if there is food to gain. It would be suicidal. Something pricks at the back of your neck, some awareness that suddenly tenses your spine. Your guards react simultaneously, seeming to have noticed the same danger you did. You turn around, just in time to find a cloaked figure in your tent, looming over $xname with a sword, its tip pointed down to $xtheir chest. Your heart nearly stops. Magic floods your limbs, an unnatural burst of speed propelling you forward as you lunge at the assassin. Heat <em>bursts</em> from your palm like molten fire, a blinding light filling the tent as you catch the assassin’s sword-arm. They shriek in pain, the scent of burning flesh and the sizzle of your magic filling the tent. The Imperial Guards are right behind you, using the opening to tackle the assassin to the ground as you release their arm. You quickly turn your attention to $xname, who is awake now, leaning back onto $xtheir elbows. $cxtheir gaze is still dazed with sleep and affliction. “$name? What just—” Dropping to your knees beside $xthem, you envelop $xthem into an embrace, your heart still racing from the panic that overtook you. Only a moment later, and $xname could’ve been taken from you. “Hush, don’t be scared,” $xname murmurs in your ear, clearly not entirely lucid from the way $xthey’s slightly slurring $xtheir words, though $xthey does $xtheir best to comfort you all the same. Patting your back, rubbing up and down your spine in soothing motions as the guards drag the assassin outside. “I’m so glad I…” You dare not even finish the sentence, swallowing thickly before you pull back and look down at $xname. $cxthey stares back up at you, cradling your cheek. “It’s alright. Thank you, $name. You saved me.” “I almost didn’t.” “But you <em>did</em>.” $cxthey pulls you down beside $xthem again. “Come here.” $xname is the one who is ill and who nearly was assassinated, yet here you are, drawing comfort from $xthem. You cannot refuse it, either, resting your head upon $xtheir shoulder and wrapping an arm around $xthem in turn, soothing yourself with the feeling of $xtheir heart beneath your hand, beating as strongly as ever. “My hero,” $xname sighs, a slight bit of amusement to the words, and it lifts your spirits a little. “You were mine first.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Saved@@ The attack happens at night. $xname rests beside you in your tent, among an encampment of Crescent Blades and Imperial soldiers. You haven’t received much sleep yourself, having spent much of the night watching over $xname. Someway, somehow, $xthey ingested something that has left $xthem feeling ill. It could very well be a case of food not being prepared correctly entirely on accident, yet you cannot shake the feeling of danger. No one else got sick, and for $xname to fall ill of all people is suspicious to say the least—$xthey is impossible to ambush otherwise, even while slumbering. You brush a wayward lock of hair from $xname’s forehead, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat covering $xtheir skin with your sleeve, $xtheir eyes closed and brows furrowed with discomfort in $xtheir rest. The healer gave $xname a concotion to combat it, and said $xthey will be feeling better by morning, but until then… A sudden commotion lifts your gaze to the opening of the tent. Shouting, followed by an intimidating roar from a short distance away. A beast of some sort, attacking the camp? You hesitate, but ultimately lift to your feet, heading over to the opening of your tent. The Imperial Guards standing watch there turn towards you when you push the flap of the tent aside. “What’s going on?” you ask, glancing over towards the other side of the encampment where you can see soldiers gathering. “A wild bear has attacked the camp,” one of the guards informs you. “The army has it under control.” A bear attack? Even as powerful a beasts as they are, bears would not attack an entire camp filled with countless people, even if there is food to gain. It would be suicidal. Something pricks at the back of your neck, some awareness that suddenly tenses your spine. Your guards react simultaneously, seeming to have noticed the same danger you did. You turn around, just in time to find a cloaked figure in your tent, looming over $xname with a sword, its tip pointed down to $xtheir chest. Your heart nearly stops. Magic sparks in the air, a burst of heat radiating through the tent, directed by your will. You grasp the threads of it with both hands, willing it to erupt—light flares violently, and the assassin shrieks. When the light fades, they’re on their knees on the ground with their blade dropped beside them, clutching the wrist of their sword-hand; the glove that covered it as well as the skin beneath it has been burned deeply. The Imperial Guards use the moment to close in, tackling the assassin to the ground. You quickly turn your attention to $xname, who is awake now, leaning back onto $xtheir elbows. $cxtheir gaze is still dazed with sleep and affliction. “$name? What just—” Dropping to your knees beside $xthem, you envelop $xthem into an embrace, your heart still racing from the panic that overtook you. Only a moment later, and $xname could’ve been taken from you. “Hush, don’t be scared,” $xname murmurs in your ear, clearly not entirely lucid from the way $xthey’s slightly slurring $xtheir words, though $xthey does $xtheir best to comfort you all the same. Patting your back, rubbing up and down your spine in soothing motions as the guards drag the assassin outside. “I’m so glad I…” You dare not even finish the sentence, swallowing thickly before you pull back and look down at $xname. $cxthey stares back up at you, cradling your cheek. “It’s alright. Thank you, $name. You saved me.” “I almost didn’t.” “But you <em>did</em>.” $cxthey pulls you down beside $xthem again. “Come here.” $xname is the one who is ill and who nearly was assassinated, yet here you are, drawing comfort from $xthem. You cannot refuse it, either, resting your head upon $xtheir shoulder and wrapping an arm around $xthem in turn, soothing yourself with the feeling of $xtheir heart beneath your hand, beating as strongly as ever. “My hero,” $xname sighs, a slight bit of amusement to the words, and it lifts your spirits a little. “You were mine first.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;In the Desert@@ “I don’t like this, $name.” A sigh resounds in the small room, possessing little more than a single cot to sleep on and a desk in the corner, not that either will be used. The abandoned home where $dname and $name have taken shelter for the night is not nearly fortified enough for $dname’s liking. The basic wards that $name created—lacking the tools to make anything more complex—required a significant amount of magic, which has drained $them on top of everything else, and the barrier is hardly invincible. All it would take to break through it is an offensive spell with greater force. But they have little choice. The two of them were separated from the others in the desert terrain of Şevan after a raging sandstorm. Thankfully, they managed to find this patch of land with buildings where they could hide in, but the sight of the abandoned village left $dname uneasy with a feeling of foreboding looming over $dthem. $cdthey has no sensory magic to speak of, but even $dthey can feel that there is something foul in the air here. $name even had more difficulty than usual laying down the wards—describing it as if the very land itself was fighting $them. It bodes ill to spend the night in such a place, but they have no other choice. “I don’t like it either, but what else can we do?” $name says, sitting down at the edge of the cot while $dname peers out the window from behind the heavy, ragged curtain hanging from the ceiling. Dust still lines every surface of the modest bedchamber, their footsteps the only thing to have disturbed it for a long time. Outside, everything seems quiet. The wide plain of rocky terrain eventually gives way to the slopes and hills of large sand dunes in the distance, a crescent moon hanging in the clear night sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars. $dname would call it beautiful on any other night, were it not for the prickling of danger at the back of $dtheir neck. As a peri-born with a natural inclination towards forests and flora, the arid and rocky landscape here takes $dthem out of $dtheir element. The desert is hardly bereft of its own plant life, but it is nothing like the abundance of green in the marshes that $dname’s peri heritage originated from. Journeying across the desert takes its toll; $dtheir body feels weaker already having spent a week out here, $dtheir usual sturdiness sapped to leave them as vulnerable as the average person as they make for one of Şevan’s major cities. Hopefully they will meet the rest of their party there, without any incidents. “The wards will hold, $dname,” $name says when $dname continues to stare out the window. Adding, after a moment, “Probably.” $dname frowns, glancing over at $name, but just as $dthey opens $dtheir mouth to speak $dthey spots movement in the corner of $dtheir eye. Yet, by the time $dthey glances back out the window, the area in front of their building appears undisturbed. “$dname?” “Stay here.” $dname turns away from the window, hand lowering to the longsword at $dtheir hip. $cdthey misses the security of $dtheir heavy mace, but it is an ungainly weapon to carry around on $dtheir person while traveling, and so $dthey left it with the rest of the supplies—that they were then promptly separated from. $cdtheir sword will simply have to do. Unsheathing it preemptively, $dname steps out of the building and rounds to the front, eyes assessing the deserted plain of bare grass and hardened rock. $cdthey approaches the runes $name carved into the ground in front of $dtheir shelter, and scowls when $dthey spots the issue: someone has slashed across the incantation. The ward is nonfunctional. Just as $dname wonders what could have done such a thing, a terrible, gurgling moan sounds from behind $dthem. Gritting $dtheir teeth, $dthey spins on $dtheir heel with a swing of $dtheir sword, the edge of its blade cutting right through the rotted flesh of a ghoul that had been about to lunge. It collapses to the ground, its neck severed in a fatal blow as unsightly pus gushes from the wound. $dname was worried about this possibility: whatever happened to the inhabitants of this village, it has attracted these creatures to it. Likely the ghouls have continued to sustain themselves with unwitting travelers ever since. Several more of the ghouls appear from within the streets of the abandoned village, and $dname counts a number of five. It would be manageable were $dthey in regular shape, but $dthey lacks $dtheir usual constitution bolstered by $dtheir peri blood. The first two ghouls approach, loping closer with disturbingly irregular patterns of walking as their limbs bend—crack—in ways that look unnatural, beady white eyes glimmering with hunger. $dname deflects the clawed hands of $dtheir first attacker well enough, kicking the second one in the gut and sending it stumbling back, but that still leaves three others to deal with, circling around $dthem. $cdtheir teeth grit, eyes trying to keep an eye on the other three while fending off the two in front. Slashing and cutting, keeping them all at a distance, but $dthey cannot keep this up forever as the ghouls equally avoid getting skewered by $dtheir blade. After a while of this back and forth, $dname's endurance starts to flag, the desert air feeling oppressive— “$dname!” $cdthey hears $name call for them in panic at the same time as one of the ghouls attacks from $dtheir blind spot, sharpened teeth trying to dig into $dtheir arm to take advantage of $dtheir weariness. $cdtheir vambrace protects $dthem from the worst of it, and at the same time, a <em>blinding</em> light erupts on the horizon. Sweltering heat pulses through the air, $dname having to squint against the burning light. $cdthey feels something akin to flames lick across $dtheir arm, but the heat doesn’t hurt $dthem. When the light fades again, $dthey opens $dtheir eyes to find the ghouls crumpled to heaps of burning flesh around $dthem, the lingering taste of magic in the air. $dname turns $dtheir gaze to find $name outside, panting heavily and leaning against the wall of the building to support $themselves. As always, $name's magic inspires as much awe in $dname as the very first time it was revealed at $their coronation ceremony, but now is not the time to admire the force of $their power. Sheathing $dtheir sword at once, $dname rushes over. “$name, you’ve overdone it!” It is their good fortune that ghouls are the rare desert creature that is weak to light, only active at night. Any other desert beast would have been much more difficult for $name to deal with, resistant as they are to heat and flame. $name breathes a tired laugh. “Maybe a little, but you looked like you needed it.” $ctheir eyes lower to $dname’s arm when $dname reaches out to support $them, $their brows furrowing. “$dname, you’re wounded.” $dname glances down at the small nicks the ghoul left biting through a leather part of $dtheir armor, disregarding it as $dthey wraps $dtheir arm around $name’s waist. “It’s hardly a cut.” $name grasps $dname's shoulder for balance as $dname helps $them back inside, $their magic well and truly exhausted now. “But…” “I’m alright, $name.” $dname averts $dtheir gaze, though $dtheir voice softens a touch. “You kept me safe—although I am ashamed it was not the other way around.” “You’ve kept me safe plenty of times before,” $name argues without any real heat behind it. “What kind of Crown would I be if I let my general get hurt?” When $dname meets $name’s eyes, glowing in the moonlight, $dthey can’t fully suppress an exasperated but fond tug of $dtheir lips. “Your general is meant to be nothing more than a tool.” “Not to me,” $name murmurs. $dname pretends not to notice as $name presses against $dtheir side. And if $dname’s hand tightens around $name’s waist, then that is nothing more than an involuntary twitch of muscle. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Visiting the Children@@ When $rname mentioned $rtheir planned visit to Marabad’s largest orphanage to offer the children there free magic lessons, $rthey was surprised when $name offered to tag along to aid $rthem. With all the goings-on in the Imperial Court, the Crown had more than enough on $their plate. It was surprising, but touching, that $they would offer to accompany $rname during what precious little free time $they managed to find lately. But then again, this might be good for $name to experience as much as it would be for the children to have another teacher in the basics of their magic. In court, $name is far removed from the realities of everyday life for the citizens of Arsur. Of course, $name was hardly raised with a silver spoon, and $they know<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> how difficult life could be just as well as $rname does. No, the purpose of this visit would be a different one: to remind $name what it is $they fight<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> so hard to achieve in $their reign as Crown. The ideals and visions of a better Arsur are all well and good theoretically, but to directly enact such good with $their own two hands–and to witness firsthand the good the Crown’s funding is doing in Arsur–would surely help replenish $name’s flagging energy, depleted as it has become when arguing with nobles day in and day out. “What do I do?” $name asks, seeming slightly nervous as $they and $rname approach the orphanage together–$name wearing a glamor to hide $their eyes. The orphanage itself is a large building with a wide garden out in front where children are playing together, their caretakers keeping an eye on them from the edges. “Just follow your lead?” “We’ll be teaching them the very basics, $name,” $rname reassures, though $rtheir smile is a touch amused. “Nothing you need to rehearse, just follow my lead.” “I’m not used to interacting with children,” $they admit<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> a little sheepishly. “I suppose I’m afraid I’ll teach them the wrong thing or make a mistake, silly as that sounds.” “You wish to be a good example for them.” $rname’s smile turns fond. “It’s considerate of you to take it so seriously, but I assure you, having one small slip up won’t ruin any child’s future. At most, they might make fun of you a little. Or a lot.” $name snorts. “I’m not sure that’s any better.” As they walk up to the entrance, some of the children take note of their arrival, and quickly come running at the sight of $rname. “<<if $rgender is 'male'>>Brother<<else>>Sister<</if>> $rname!” $rname tries not to laugh at the flustered look on $name’s face, no doubt overwhelmed by the large group that begins to gather around the two of them. Turning to the children, $rname smiles as $rthey greets them, as well as two of the caretakers who approach on the children’s heels. “Hello again, everyone!” $crthey can name every single child here, having regularly started visiting the orphanage ever since it was decided the Crown was better off residing in Marabad for the time being. Eventually, though, the Imperial House will leave to visit the other provinces, and $rname will dearly miss the children during that time. “Have you all been behaving?” A variety of answers arise. “Yes!” “Hêlîn hasn’t.” “Liar! I’ve been the <em>most</em> well-behaved!” “You were mean to Zaxo just yesterday!” “Now, now,” one of the caretakers cuts in. “Hêlîn already apologized, let’s not make a scene in front of our guests. $rtitle Sorcerer, welcome back–I take it this is the friend you mentioned?” “Yes,” $rname confirms, casting an amused glance at $name. “This is…” “$crtheir assistant,” $name finished swiftly, shooting a small, mirthful smile back at $rname. “Ziryan, I go by $they.” “Are you also a magus?” Hêlîn asks $name. $name blinks. “Well, ah, no. But–” Hêlîn looks disappointed. “So you can’t even do magic?” “I can do magic!” $name hurries to reassure while $rname hides a snicker behind $rtheir hand. “$rtitle $rname helped teach me, in fact.” “Oh, that’s good then!” Hêlîn brightens again. “<<if $rgender is 'male'>>Brother<<else>>Sister<</if>> $rname is the best teacher.” It’s a good thing Perjin isn’t around to hear that. $rname chuckles, and while $name appears to be getting more comfortable with the children, soon $they become<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> overwhelmed by an avalanche of questions and comments. “What kinda magic can you do?” “Can you make a lightning show like <<if $rgender is 'male'>>Brother<<else>>Sister<</if>> $rname?” “Or, or, or make a <em>really</em> big fire? In the shape of a serpent? A fire serpent!” “It’s too hot for that…” “Calm down, my eager friends,” $rname says between $rtheir laughter, unable to hold it in any longer at the wide-eyed look $name is shooting $rthem in some kind of sign for help. “You’ll wear my poor assistant out before we even get to do any magic! Let’s go inside, and then start our lesson so you can all cast some spells yourselves, hmm?” The kids crow and whoop in excitement at that, some of them already rushing off indoors, while the ones who appear most attached to $rname linger near $rthem and $name to chat with them as they head inside. The caretakers help keep the enthusiasm to a manageable level, but it warms $rname's heart to see it all the same. Many of them will not be accepted into the School of Marabad, but being able to do magic–even without being a magus–will be a great boon for them all the same. As they head indoors and the children get settled in a large hall filled with rows of benches for them to sit and watch $rname’s lesson, $rname catches $name staring. “What is it?” “Nothing much, just…” $name gives a slight smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so happy. You haven’t stopped smiling once since we got here.” “I hadn’t noticed,” $rname replies honestly, watching the kids as they both wait for all of $rname’s students to get settled. “But you’re right, I do feel happy here. I love teaching the children, witnessing them learn and grow and come into their talents, being able to give them something they otherwise would’ve never had… it feels deeply rewarding.” “I’m sure if you hadn’t become the Sorcerer, this is where you would have ended up instead.” “You might be right.” $rname grins back at $name. “What about you, <em>Ziryan</em>? Still nervous?” $name casts a thoughtful look at the kids, all starry-eyed and eager to learn, then back at $rname, $their gaze softening. “I think I could get used to this.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Select if your Crown is reserved or flirtatious (it's only affects 1 line in the whole thing, no big variations here): [[Flirtatious|A ROM 4flirt]] [[Reserved|A ROM 4res]]</div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Bathing Together@@ It is a warm summer night on the road when $aname takes your hand and guides you to between the trees, ordering the other Imperial Guards to keep a polite distance. In other words: to turn their eyes and ears away from whatever it is $aname has planned for you. Your eagerness must show on your face as $aname leads you on, because $athey appears amused by it. “Easy there,” $athey teases. “I found a place for us to bathe.” “Ah.” You try not to appear too disappointed; you should have expected it, honestly. $aname is not the type to have such a tryst in the midst of travel, especially with so many people around even if they give you some measure of privacy. $aname chuckles, squeezing your hand. “I’ll make it up to you later, Majesty.” You understand moments later why $aname went out of $atheir way for this: you hear the unmistakable sound of gushing water, and recognize immediately what it is. Once you emerge from between the trees, as expected, you find a tall cliff from which a waterfall thunders down into a wide pool of water below, leading off into a calm river that meanders elsewhere. “$aname, this is perfect,” you exclaim, admiring the pouring water, its spray of drops catching a rainbow in the sunlight. “How did you find this?” “I stumbled across it while scouting the area earlier.” You give $aname a sideways look. “But did not mention it to anyone else at camp.” “The Crown deserves some luxuries.” $aname smirks at you, still able to make your stomach twist after all this time, and approaches the edge of the pool to undress $athemselves. “I will tell the others after we're done.” You note there are already supplies present by the edge of the pool: a basket with two large towels, a wash cloth and two bars of soap. Smiling at the thoughtful gesture, you approach as $aname begins to ease $atheir armor off. “Let me.” $aname drops $atheir hands by $atheir sides, watching you intently. You do not touch $athem suggestively, at first. There are the armor pieces you have to unbuckle first, and the leathers and chainmail $athey wears beneath you have to ease off next before you finally arrive at $atheir clothes. Only then does your undressing turn more provocative, hand slipping beneath $atheir tunic to roam up $atheir taut stomach, and $aname shivers at your touch. “Are my hands too cold?” you ask, almost drawing your fingers back, but $aname grabs your wrist and keeps your hand in place. $catheir eyelids lower in a devastating look as $athey murmurs, “I can warm them up.” Heart beating fast with excitement, your lips curve with a suggestive smile in return as your hands follow well-known paths upon $atheir skin, mapping out familiar scars and marks, dips and curves as you rid $athem of the rest of $atheir clothing. $aname’s eyes widen slightly when you lower to your knees to help $athem get $atheir trousers and smallclothes off, one of $atheir hands flexing by $atheir side as your hands trail back up $atheir bare thighs. “$name,” $athey cautions, $atheir voice strained. “We won’t get to bathing at this rate.” $cathey glances off towards the trees as well, tension building in $atheir shoulders—no doubt unable to ignore the reminder that the guards are nearby. You lift back up to your feet, giving in with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Your turn?” $aname’s gaze softens, and $athey steps closer to help you disrobe in turn. $catheir touches on your skin are not as lustful as yours, but they carry warmth and affection all the same, pressing a kiss to your neck, then your shoulder as soon as $athey has bared it. You luxuriate in the feeling, caressing the back of $aname’s neck, and find that you are undressed far too soon for your liking when $aname steps away again, turning to the waterfall. $cathey wades into the water first until it reaches up to $atheir waist at the center of the pool, casting a glance at you from over $atheir shoulder as $athey appears unbothered by the cold. “It’s warm,” $athey reassures. You raise your brows at that, but follow after $athem nonetheless, finding to your surprise that the water is indeed warm. Moments later, you understand why: stones at the bottom glimmer with glowing red runes carved into them, dispersing considerable heat. The effect won’t last forever, but judging by the amount of stones, it should be long enough for a comfortable bath. “Did you make these?” you ask as you approach $aname, winding your arms around $atheir waist. “I asked Kaja for a favor,” $aname says as $athey mirrors your embrace, exhaling a pleased sigh as you press skin-to-skin and exchange a brief kiss. Admittedly, it is a bit of a torment for you: you are all too aware of <<if $agender is 'female'>>the swell of her breasts pressing against you,<<else>>the shape of him pressed against your hip<</if>>, invoking an instinctive, perhaps habitual excitement you can’t wholly suppress. Still, now that you have accepted there won’t be much of <em>that</em> during this bath, a more comfortable intimacy keeps you from getting carried away. Judging from the way $aname grins at you once you break the kiss, though, $athey can tell it’s getting to you. “We’ve been courting for months and somehow you still manage to be a tease,” you accuse, and $aname rubs a hand along your lower back as if to comfort you, though the playful look in $atheir warm eyes makes that hard to believe. “Your discipline is admirable,” $athey praises you, pressing $atheir lips to your temple. “I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? Have patience.” “One night isn’t going to be enough, just so you know.” $aname laughs. “Worked up quite an appetite, I see. Whatever can I do to sate it?” “Be nice to me,” you demand, your frown purely for show, and $aname kisses the space between your brows as well. “I’m always nice to you, my love.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Bathing Together@@ It is a warm summer night on the road when $aname takes your hand and guides you to between the trees, ordering the other Imperial Guards to keep a polite distance. In other words: to turn their eyes and ears away from whatever it is $aname has planned for you. Your eagerness must show on your face as $aname leads you on, because $athey appears amused by it. “Easy there,” $athey teases. “I found a place for us to bathe.” “Ah.” You try not to appear too disappointed; you should have expected it, honestly. $aname is not the type to have such a tryst in the midst of travel, especially with so many people around even if they give you some measure of privacy. $aname chuckles, squeezing your hand. “I’ll make it up to you later, Majesty.” You understand moments later why $aname went out of $atheir way for this: you hear the unmistakable sound of gushing water, and recognize immediately what it is. Once you emerge from between the trees, as expected, you find a tall cliff from which a waterfall thunders down into a wide pool of water below, leading off into a calm river that meanders elsewhere. “$aname, this is perfect,” you exclaim, admiring the pouring water, its spray of drops catching a rainbow in the sunlight. “How did you find this?” “I stumbled across it while scouting the area earlier.” You give $aname a sideways look. “But did not mention it to anyone else at camp.” “The Crown deserves some luxuries.” $aname smirks at you, still able to make your stomach twist after all this time, and approaches the edge of the pool to undress $athemselves. “I will tell the others after we're done.” You note there are already supplies present by the edge of the pool: a basket with two large towels, a wash cloth and two bars of soap. Smiling at the thoughtful gesture, you approach as $aname begins to ease $atheir armor off. “Let me.” $aname drops $atheir hands by $atheir sides, watching you intently. You do not touch $athem suggestively, at first. There are the armor pieces you have to unbuckle first, and the leathers and chainmail $athey wears beneath you have to ease off next before you finally arrive at $atheir clothes. Only then does your undressing turn more provocative, hand slipping beneath $atheir tunic to roam up $atheir taut stomach, and $aname shivers at your touch. “Are my hands too cold?” you ask, almost drawing your fingers back, but $aname grabs your wrist and keeps your hand in place. $catheir eyelids lower in a devastating look as $athey murmurs, “I can warm them up.” Heat rushes up your face, $aname still as able to fluster you as easily as $athey was the first day of your official courtship, and perhaps even before that. Even so, you swallow thickly as your hands follow well-known paths upon $atheir skin, mapping out familiar scars and marks, dips and curves as you rid $athem of the rest of $atheir clothing. $aname’s eyes widen slightly when you lower to your knees to help $athem get $atheir trousers and smallclothes off, one of $atheir hands flexing by $atheir side as your hands trail back up $atheir bare thighs. “$name,” $athey cautions, $atheir voice strained. “We won’t get to bathing at this rate.” $cathey glances off towards the trees as well, tension building in $atheir shoulders—no doubt unable to ignore the reminder that the guards are nearby. You lift back up to your feet, giving in with an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Your turn?” $aname’s gaze softens, and $athey steps closer to help you disrobe in turn. $catheir touches on your skin are not as lustful as yours, but they carry warmth and affection all the same, pressing a kiss to your neck, then your shoulder as soon as $athey has bared it. You luxuriate in the feeling, caressing the back of $aname’s neck, and find that you are undressed far too soon for your liking when $aname steps away again, turning to the waterfall. $cathey wades into the water first until it reaches up to $atheir waist at the center of the pool, casting a glance at you from over $atheir shoulder as $athey appears unbothered by the cold. “It’s warm,” $athey reassures. You raise your brows at that, but follow after $athem nonetheless, finding to your surprise that the water is indeed warm. Moments later, you understand why: stones at the bottom glimmer with glowing red runes carved into them, dispersing considerable heat. The effect won’t last forever, but judging by the amount of stones, it should be long enough for a comfortable bath. “Did you make these?” you ask as you approach $aname, winding your arms around $atheir waist. “I asked Kaja for a favor,” $aname says as $athey mirrors your embrace, exhaling a pleased sigh as you press skin-to-skin and exchange a brief kiss. Admittedly, it is a bit of a torment for you: you are all too aware of <<if $agender is 'female'>>the swell of her breasts pressing against you,<<else>>the shape of him pressed against your hip<</if>>, invoking an instinctive, perhaps habitual excitement you can’t wholly suppress. Still, now that you have accepted there won’t be much of <em>that</em> during this bath, a more comfortable intimacy keeps you from getting carried away. Judging from the way $aname grins at you once you break the kiss, though, $athey can tell it’s getting to you. “We’ve been courting for months and somehow you still manage to be a tease,” you accuse, and $aname rubs a hand along your lower back as if to comfort you, though the playful look in $atheir warm eyes makes that hard to believe. “Your discipline is admirable,” $athey praises you, pressing $atheir lips to your temple. “I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? Have patience.” “One night isn’t going to be enough, just so you know.” $aname laughs. “Worked up quite an appetite, I see. Whatever can I do to sate it?” “Be nice to me,” you demand, your frown purely for show, and $aname kisses the space between your brows as well. “I’m always nice to you, my love.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Ambush@@ “$aname, you need to rest.” Glamored brown eyes peer at $athem with concern, and $aname sighs, knowing $athey has been pushing it these past few days but seeing no other option. “I will, once we return to your estate.” Their visit to Zerat has dragged on for longer than $name intended, delayed by nobles and local officials with their own agendas—which also required protection around the clock. The Imperial Guards have been stretched thin with the amount of potential threats the province poses to the Crown, and as such, $aname hasn’t been able to take many reprieves, prioritizing keeping guard over $name above all else. After a month of this, however, $athey is feeling the effects, and the royal physician has forbidden $athem from taking any more energizing tonics. “I am not asking you, $aname,” $name insists as they traverse back to the Crown’s estate through the narrow streets of one of Zerat’s larger cities, Dwin. The few lanterns in the streets cast a dim light, barely illuminating the road at night. “I am telling you, you need rest.” $aname huffs. There was a time where such a statement would have irked $athem, but $athey knows by now what $name’s intentions truly are—though it does not prevent $aname from replying with a wry remark. “Is that a command?” “No, it is me urging you as someone who cares about you,” $name says honestly, and the humor fades from $aname’s countenance as $athey turns $atheir head to meet $name’s eyes. $ctheir gaze is just as earnest as $their words, and something in $aname softens at that. “I apologize for worrying you,” $athey says. Truthfully, $athey struggles to pay attention to $atheir surroundings in this state to begin with: $atheir focus is completely scattered, weariness and sleep deprivation weighing on $athem. A few Imperial Guards accompany the two of them, but not the same number as there usually would be: they have felt the effects of their long vigil just as surely as $aname. “Perhaps we should ask for assistance from $dname,” $name suggests, reaching over to give $aname’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Surely $dthey would have soldiers to spare to guard the Crown?” “That’s not a bad idea,” $aname admits, thinking on it, and having to blink $atheir eyes several times to keep focus as the fog of fatigue clouds $atheir mind. “$dname is still in Rojan, however. The nearest army barracks in Zerat would be a better—” In $atheir exhausted state, $athey notices it too late. One of the Imperial Guards shouts out in warning: “Captain, an archer!” $aname spots the arrow, yet it is aimed at $aname instead of $name. Their ambusher likely does not realize $name is the Crown due to the glamor, and so they aim to take out the Royal Protector instead. $cathey moves too slow, unable to call upon $atheir magic quick enough with $atheir frazzled focus, knowing the arrow will hit: all $athey can do is shift so it does not strike $athem in the heart— A sudden shove in $atheir side sends $aname sprawling onto the ground, realizing a moment later $name has tackled $athem out of the way, laying on top of $athem. The Imperial Guards go after the archer while $name pushes up to look down at $aname in concern. “Are you alright?” $aname exhales a disbelieving breath, hand reaching, fingertips all but brushing across $name’s cheek. $name’s eyes go wide before $aname realizes where they are and what $athey’s doing. $cathey snatches $atheir hand back, blaming it on the sleep deprivation. “I’m fine,” $aname reassures, unable to meet $name’s searching gaze. “The arrow didn’t hit me.” $name is silent for a moment—the Imperial Guard who remained with them pointedly facing the other direction, pretending to study the wall—before pushing up to $their feet, extending a hand to $aname to help $athem up. $aname takes it, thinking $athey should feel embarrassed at having failed so spectacularly in $atheir duty to need protection from the Crown. As if able to read the thought from $atheir face, $name frowns at $athem. “You’ve been running yourself ragged watching over me all month, $aname,” $they say<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, $their eyes lowering to the spot on $aname’s chest where the arrow would have struck. After a beat, $name lifts a hand to place a warm palm over $aname’s breastbone, the gesture so intimate that $aname wonders if $name can feel the way $atheir heart skips. “And even before that, all the times you’ve kept me safe… this was the least I could do in return.” $aname hesitates, but only for a moment before $athey places $atheir own hand atop $name’s on $atheir chest. $name meets $atheir eyes, affection warm in $their gaze. As $aname parts $atheir lips to speak, however, the other Imperial Guards return with the assassin captive, and the two are forced to break apart. The guard who remained with them thankfully pretends not to have seen anything as $aname instructs the others to imprison the assassin for the time being. All the while, the warmth of $name’s hand lingers against $atheir chest. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Meeting the Imperial Soldiers@@ $dname isn’t certain of the wisdom of this idea, but $name insisted. The Crown watches as the soldiers of the Imperial Army run their usual training drills, stationed at a fortress to the south of Marabad. Standing beside $dname, the pair of them observe silently as the groups of soldiers practice various formations together—though some of the soldiers seem more distracted or tense than usual. No doubt they’re very aware of the Crown watching, and wish to perform as best as they possibly can. Something $name $themselves also seems to suspect. “Do they usually practice so many elaborate formations?” $dname glances at $name, expression remaining stoic, though there is a hint of mirth in $dtheir gaze. “Not usually, no.” “Oh.” $name looks back at the soldiers with a blend of surprise and amusement. Even knowing the effect $their status has on others, it still appears to take $them aback at times. There is something endearing about it. “Should I… applaud when they finish?” $dname huffs a breath. “Please don’t.” “I really don’t know if I deserve such a display,” $name muses, brows furrowing with serious consideration. “I’ve only been the Crown for such a short time, it’s not as if I have accomplished anything of note yet.” “Merely becoming the Crown was an accomplishment,” $dname points out, meeting $name’s eyes. “And your road to becoming the Crown was many times more difficult and painful. Most Crowns are essentially handed the title, you realize? There isn’t any other Crown in the history of Arsur who has had to endure what you did to claim their throne.” $name’s eyes widen slightly, looking at $dname as if $they did not fully realize that fact $themselves—$name tends to be especially punishing of $their own perceived shortcomings, and does not afford $themselves as much grace as others. Holding $themselves to a much higher standard, and who can blame $them, when $their predecessors are both so famed and so infamous? It must seem like a steep mountain to climb. It is $dname’s duty, as well as the duty of all those close to $name, to lighten some of that burden wherever they can. “By becoming the Crown,” $dname continues, “you have already helped Arsur immensely. The Imperial Court is functioning again, the citizens’ morale has been raised, and by appointing a Minister of Defense, the Imperial Army has gained much needed funding. You have done more for them than you know.” $name’s expression softens, seeming touched by $dname’s words, and looks back at the training soldiers who are wrapping up their drills now with a new light in $their eyes. Having realized in some small way, perhaps, that $they need<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> not judge $themselves so harshly. “Thank you, $dname.” The gratitude does not last for long, however, $name blinking as some of the soldiers break away from the training grounds to head toward the two of them. $dname arches $dtheir brows. “Surely you knew the soldiers would want to meet you?” “I don’t exactly have a speech prepared…” “They’re not expecting one.” Before $name can say anything more, the firsts of the soldiers make their approach, saluting formally instead of bowing as is more appropriate in this setting. “Your Imperial Majesty!” $name appears slightly at a loss at the enthusiastic greeting as the soldiers salute $dname next. “General.” Less eager in comparison, but $dname supposes $dthey can’t hold that against them. “I’m impressed,” is the first thing $name finally manages to say once recovering $their composure. “Your formations all looked very well-practiced.” A safe enough compliment, and one that the soldiers take to with great effect. “We’re deeply honored, Your Imperial Majesty!” “Your words are too generous for such a mediocre performance, but that is of credit to you.” “We will endeavor to serve you to the best of our ability, come what may!” $name blinks, and then for some reason, starts to laugh. “I’m glad to hear that!” $cthey pointedly meet<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $dname’s gaze while continuing to grin, as if $dname is meant to have some sort of reaction to all of this. “What?” $dname questions. “Your soldiers seem to take after you in more than discipline.” $dname scowls, looking from the fawning soldiers back to $name. “I was not that dramatic.” “You most certainly were.” “The missing Crown of the Empire was finally found,” $dname argues, crossing $dtheir arms and averting $dtheir gaze. “Forgive me for reacting appropriately to such a momentous occasion.” $name merely continues to chuckle, turning back to the soldiers and seeming more at ease now than before. No longer as hesitant to engage them, instead able to speak to them honestly and openly. $dname is glad for it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Bathing Together@@ “Will you be able to stay quiet?” $xname’s breath is heated as it brushes against your ear, the warm water lapping gently around your waist as the two of you are seated in a luxurious bath tub carved from marble. $xname sits behind you, as ever unable to keep $xtheir hands to $xthemselves as they wind around your waist. “Between the two of us,” you point out, “you’re the louder one.” You have a private room in an expensive inn with an adjoining bathing chamber, and while your identity of Crown was disguised, there was no reason not to spend the coin for added benefits. $xname’s fingers slide up your sides teasingly, before lifting to your shoulders. “Yet I’m not the one who will be spoiled this time.” “It’s just a massage.” You turn your head to glance over at $xname with arched brows, a hint of mirth curving your lips. “Surely you would not have any other intentions?” “Surely,” $xname agrees with a grin, pressing a peck to your cheek. “Now, let me take care of these weary muscles of yours.” You have no objections to that, easing as $xname’s hands begin to press and knead into your shoulders to start with. $cxthey has always been unreasonably good at this, no doubt $xtheir sensing able to help pinpoint what feels best. $cxtheir fingers are purposefully heated with $xtheir magic as well, a balm for your tired body as $xthey expertly massages out the stiffness and the knots that have built. Unable to help yourself, you let out a soft moan, and $xname breathes a chuckle behind you. “Told you.” “That was hardly <em>loud</em>,” you protest, humming when $xname’s thumbs work out a particularly tense area right above your shoulder blades, your eyes briefly slipping shut. “Mmm… there, feels good.” Teeth at your earlobe make you jolt, a playful nip, followed by $xname's voice lowered to a breathier tone. “Are you trying to seduce me?” You huff out a laugh. “Do you ever get tired of being insatiable?” “Not when it’s for you.” As skilled at sweet-talking as ever. Despite being used to $xtheir antics by now, it affects you just as surely as it did the first time $xname offered you honeyed words as you shift a little in the bathtub, the heat of the rising steam becoming sweltering as your own body warms you just as fiercely from within. “Something the matter?” $xname remarks innocently as $xtheir hands begin to work lower, down the small of your back. “You know what you’re doing,” you grumble—the very reason you needed a bath was in part due to what you and $xname got up to hours before. Through the open doorway of the bathing chamber you can still see your rumpled bedsheets, your garments strewn haphazardly across the floor. Whatever $xname’s teasing about you being loud, you’re certain half the inn heard the debauched sounds $xname made no attempt to stifle for the past several hours, until you both exhausted each other. Light marks still litter both of your bodies, small hickeys and bruises and indents of teeth. At one point, you half-feared you would end up breaking the bed. Yet it appears that was still not enough to satisfy $xname. “Should I stop, then?” $xname asks, full well being able to sense that you’re enjoying it too much. Yet, $xthey asks anyway, every time $xthey initiates such things—$xtheir consideration draws a smile from your lips. “Keep going.” $xname does, continuing $xtheir massage, though it gains in touches as $xthey presses idle kisses to your shoulders whenever it strikes $xtheir fancy, mouth occasionally trailing to your neck and coaxing deep sighs from your lips. For a while, you nearly drift off—$xname ceases $xtheir massaging when you begin to slump over, instead winding $xtheir arms around you and pressing close, chin resting atop your shoulder. “You know, this massage was meant to work you up, not lull you to sleep.” You chuckle at $xname’s lamenting tone, turning your head to catch the corner of $xtheir lips in a soft kiss. “Have you no mercy? You’ve kept me busy for hours, of course I would be tired.” $xname lets out a mournful sigh, even as $xtheir hands slide down your belly, stirring within you arousal anew. “And here I wanted to give you a little treat…” An utter lie. “A <em>little</em> treat? We both don’t know you’re incapable of moderation.” “Fair point.” Your breath catches as $xname’s fingers inch down your lower stomach. “So… should I continue?” As if you would ever want to say no. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;A Spar@@ “If you wanted a rematch that badly, $xname, all you had to do was ask.” $xname’s sensory magic extends across the forest, telling $xthem the location of each and every person involved in $xtheir little scheme. $dname and $dtheir soldiers, $rname and the Imperial Guards—and the flashing, fluttering magic signature of the one who stands before $xname, like the roiling waves of a restless sea. The Royal Protector gazes back at $xname with a cool, assessing gaze, unsheathing the twin daggers strapped to $atheir leather belt. $catheir sickle sword remains untouched. Rays of sunlight that filter through the trees shimmer across $atheir blades and the silver scales of $atheir armor, as well as the left half of $atheir face, lighting one of $atheir eyes into a subtle green while the other remains a warm brown. $aname has always seemed a force of nature to $xname, and $xthey knows $xthey must take $aname seriously. This isn’t a simple duel between two friends, not with $aname’s duty to protect $rname being called upon. “Believe it or not,” $xname says as $xthey unsheathes $xtheir own bone-white shamshir, “I’ve no interest in a spar with you, $aname. I’m here regarding the—” While $xname gives $xtheir little speech, $aname has no mind for waiting. $cathey bolts forward, and were it not for $xname’s sensory magic, the speed of it would have wholly caught $xthem off-balance. The tip of a dagger swipes downwards, nearly through $xname’s shoulder as $xthey darts to the side to evade it, lashing out with $xtheir own blade. $cxtheir shamshir cuts a blazing crescent in the air, clashing and held at bay by $aname’s own dagger. Steam sizzles from the point of contact between their weapons, metal scraping metal, $xname’s fire doused by $aname’s water. “What is your purpose here, $xname?” $aname glares at $xthem from over their crossed blades, taking a breath and putting more force behind $atheir pushing. $xname has to dig the heels of $xtheir feet into the ground to resist it, nearly backed into a tree behind $xthem. “I had enough of $dname?” $xname offers, a halfhearted lie—$aname already knows there is more at play here. “Had you intended on attacking in earnest with your Crescent Blades, then the battle would have long destroyed this part of the forest.” $aname’s eyes narrow, and the surge of $atheir magic warns $xname of $atheir next move as $athey suddenly steps back. $xname’s sword falls into air, which is the opening $aname was aiming for. $cathey kicks out with $atheir boot, and $xname dodges to the left—the trunk of the tree that was behind $xname suffers the force of $aname’s attack, splintering through nearly a third of its wood. $aname holds the brunt of $atheir kick back at the last second, so $athey does not fully break through the trunk and cause the tree to fall. “What did that tree ever do to you?” $xname quips, the only word $xthey manages to get in before $aname chases after $xthem. Twin daggers lash out in quick succession, glints of silver catching light as $athey forces $xname to focus: catching every subtle and even the most miniscule changes in $aname's magic coursing through $atheir body, betraying what $atheir next move will be. It becomes a bit of a dance, with $xname evading or blocking every attack $aname throws at $xthem in a barrage of deadly swings, vicious claws barely missing or only just gracing $xname. Each one anticipated, predicted, neutralized as $xname steps out of $aname’s reach time and time again. Seeing that it is going nowhere after several minutes of this dance, $aname eventually slows, allowing $xname to put distance between them as $xthey quickly backs away. Both of them halt, out of breath from the exertion. “You’re stalling me,” $aname finally realizes, frowning at $xname. “Am I?” $xname twirls $xtheir shamshir around in $xtheir hand, $xtheir voice slightly breathless as $xthey continues to speak. “Don’t you worry about that, $aname. We were just starting to have fun. You know what you have to do to give me a real challenge.” $cxthey smirks, sharp and eager and hungering as $xthey lifts $xtheir shamshir in a ready stance. “Kill your magic signature.” $aname exhales a frustrated breath. “It is not so simple.” “You did it once before,” $xname points out, though $xtheir head tilts as $xthey hears footsteps rapidly approaching. Bandits—opportunists, seeing their chance to strike. “The time that you won.” “I was not distracted by one of your ridiculous schemes back then.” Two familiar signatures that are more distant catch $xname’s attention for a moment, flaring in the periphery of $xtheir attention: close to where $rname is. They’ve almost found $rthem, then. “Fine,” $xname allows with a dramatic sigh. “Go on then, go to $rname’s rescue!” “$crtheir rescue?” $aname’s eyes grow with alarm, and then $athey scowls. “You’re not funny, $xname.” $cathey sheathes $atheir daggers again, turning toward where the Crown and Tûjo are nearing $rname’s location. But there are two other signatures in the way—and one of them feels off. $xname sobers, brows furrowing. “Not $rname’s rescue, then, but the Crown’s.” $aname gives $xname a baffled look. “The <em>what</em>?” As if to make things more complicated, that is when the bandits finally decide to crash through the trees and emerge into the clearing where $xname and $aname were dueling, surrounding them from every side. “Look what we have here, friends!” The ostensible leader holds a heavy metal flail in their hands. “An imperial dog, and a…” They halt as they stare at $xname, squinting, and then their eyes widen in recognition. “Wait, you’re—” They really don’t have time for this. $xname bolsters $xtheir right arm with $xtheir magic, and then <em>hurls</em> $xtheir sword at the bandit leader. With a twitch of $xtheir fingers the sword arcs in a perfect swing to cut deep across the bandit’s chest, the bandit toppling over with a scream, and chaos erupts. With another twitch, the sword boomerangs right back into $xtheir waiting hand. “Go, $aname, I mean it!” $xname shouts to $aname as $xthey fends off the attacks of several bandits at once, dodging beneath a blade and jumping over the swipe of a spear. turns towards where $dname and the Crescent Blades are still scuffling. “I’ll handle these idiots!” $aname does not waste time arguing, cutting down two bandits in $atheir path and escaping between the trees, heading towards the Crown’s location. Though as $athey runs off and $xname takes care of the dozen or so bandits in the clearing, $xthey hears $aname mutter beneath $atheir breath, fully aware that $xname can hear them. “Next time…” $xname smirks. “I’ll hold you to that.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Reuniting@@ $dname did not mean for it to become an argument. By this point, $dthey hardly even remembers what initially started it. Weeks have passed since then, as it took place the night before $dname was expected to leave towards the northern borders and bolster the army’s forces there for the coming spring. Every day since, $dthey has been thinking about it with growing worry. $name did not want to send $dthem to the border, $dthey recalls that was a large cause of their fight. Insisting that $dname was too fatigued to take on the responsibility, that $dthey should trust $dtheir lieutenants to handle it—that $dthey did not <em>need</em> to oversee everything personally and wear $dthemselves out in the process. Even while knowing $name said it out of worry for $dname’s wellbeing, the ingrained fear of failure within $dname saw it as an attack, as an accusation that $dthey was being irresponsible and failing at $dtheir duty as general. So $dname remained adamant, and $name grew more frustrated, and began pushing back in a way that only caused $dname to dig in $dtheir heels further, insisting in a way that made $dname feel cornered. Now, three weeks later, $dname only wishes $dthey hadn’t reacted so poorly to what was a sincere expression of concern. Approaching the apadana of Marabad’s Royal Palace upon $dtheir return, $dthey finds $name waiting for $dthem at the top of the steps. $dname is alone, $dtheir soldiers left behind at Kartan’s Outpost and the military barracks within the city. $name, similarly, stands by $themselves, no servants or friends with $them to greet $dname. As private a moment as they will have. “Your Imperial Majesty,” $dname says, already bending $dtheir head when $name stops $dthem. “Is it so easy to revert to my title?” $dname almost winces, but $name does not appear upset. Merely somber as $they descend<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> the stairs step by step, until $they stand<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> before $dname with furrowed brows, lips twisting with tension. “Forgive me,” $dname says, forcing $dthemselves to meet $name’s gaze. “I was uncharitable to you before my departure, and did not apologize as I should have during the time I was gone. I know you meant well.” “And I should not have pushed as I did,” $name replies sadly, reaching out to take $dname’s hands in $theirs, and $dname exhales a quiet breath of relief to see $name is not still hurt by their argument. “You asked for space, and I did not give it to you. I should have listened and backed down.” $dname squeezes $name’s hands, the most either of them can afford in the open before $name has to withdraw $theirs—from a distance, it can easily be interpreted as a friendly gesture. Yet the warmth of $name’s hands is one $dname misses the moment it is retracted. “I was being stubborn.” “But that was your right.” $name looks back into $dname’s eyes, and this time, $their smile is not so weighted anymore. “I’m sorry as well, for how I acted.” “I’ve already forgotten it,” $dname reassures $them, eager to leave this all behind them—$dthey never wants to experience such miserable weeks again, doubting and worrying and driving $dthemselves to madness with the fear of having caused a permanent rift between them. This time, $name’s smile is free of the weight it carried before, and much brighter for it. “As have I. But next time, let’s try not to leave things on a bad note before we have to spend such a long time apart?” “Yes.” $dname sighs. “Even if it is difficult, we must talk these things through. It was trying, being apart from you and not knowing if…” “If I was still upset at you? I had the same worry.” $name’s eyes are momentarily downcast. “It felt lonely.” $dname wishes for nothing more than to move closer to $name, to wrap $dtheir arms around $them to ensure that loneliness never returns, but $dthey knows that $dthey cannot. Instead, $dname leans in subtly, $name’s eyes following them with interest—with longing—and murmurs, “After such a long journey, might I rest inside a more private room?” <em>With just the two of us</em>. “Of course.” $name’s eyes shine with mirth and anticipation, daring to give voice to $dname’s unspoken implication as $they whisper<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> back, “I want to hold you, too.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;At the Beach@@ It is a beautiful day to spend at the beach. For the latter half of the year, the Imperial Household chose to use the aptly named Autumn Palace in Ilwan, Avdin’s coastal capital city; it is the season when the summer heat cools into something more pleasant, and the sea is still warm enough to enjoy. $aname gave $name a personal tour of the finest places to visit in Ilwan, though with all $their work $name did not have much of a chance to enjoy it yet. So, of course, $rname takes it upon $rthemselves to invite $name to a date by the seaside. The palace in Ilwan has a section of beach entirely for the Crown’s private use, taking only a short walk down the stone stairs built out of the cliffs surrounding it to get there. $name and $rname are both dressed in silk bathing robes as they head down. The servants have already erected a tent on the sand, large enough to fit two chairs and a small table of refreshments to enjoy in the shade whenever they grow tired of swimming. Together they descend the steps down to the beach, looking on the expanse of white sand between the cliffs all $name’s to enjoy—save for the servants and Imperial Guards ever present to serve, of course. “Have you ever gone swimming in the rain?” $rname asks, casting a look up at the cloudy sky. Scatterings of blue sky and sunlight peak through among the white clouds, ensuring a temperate day for swimming. “I’ve never gone swimming at all,” $name confesses as they walk across the sand in their sandals. “Ah, I do recall you mentioning something about that.” $rname smiles at $them as the two of them approach the edge of the water, two more servants trailing behind them, and they both take their sandals off. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you stay afloat.” “Where did you learn how to swim?” $name asks while they both slip their bathrobes off, and $rname’s eyes are briefly distracted by the sight of $name in nothing but their undergarments before $rthey recollects $rthemselves. $name appears amused, undoubtedly having noticed the staring. “I, ah, I had $aname teach me,” $rname says, stepping forward into the surf and dipping $rtheir toes into the water. Lukewarm: the perfect temperature. $crthey turns to reach out $rtheir hand to $name, and $they take<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> it with a smile as $they let<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $rname guide $them into the water. “So, how are you going to help me float?” $name asks as they wade into the sea together, the waves calmly lapping at their ankles, then their thighs, then their hips as they go in further and further. “Simple.” $rname connects to the water surrounding $name as they venture far enough for it to be waist-deep, directing it with precise, elegant movements of $rtheir fingers as $rthey commands it to swirl around $name. $name flinches at the sensation at first, but then chuckles, easing $their weight into the water—and, just as promised, $they float<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> effortlessly. So long as $rname maintains the connection in the back of $rtheir mind, $name will have nothing to fear. “I appreciate the gesture,” $name says as $they comfortably sit<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> in the water, floating while using $their arms to paddle $themselves along, “but teaching me to swim would probably be less taxing for you in the long run.” “True,” $rname says as $rthey swims normally, $rtheir hair securely gathered up in a knot at the top of $rtheir head to prevent it from getting wet. “Although, magic always makes everything more fun. Can I show you something else?” “Of course,” $name answers without hesitation, and $rname grins playfully, squeezing $name’s hand. “Hold your breath,” $rthey instructs, and when $name does so, $rname dips underwater and commands the magic carrying $name to gently pull them under as well. They are both fully submerged—except for their heads, where air remains in a bubble around their heads, allowing them to see and breathe underwater without any trouble. “$rname, this is amazing!” $name exclaims in wonder, watching fish scurry past them, looking at the sea shells and seaweed scattered along the bed of sand. $cthey meet<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $rname’s eyes, who smiles back at them with satisfaction at being able to offer $name such an experience for $their first time swimming in the sea, and in a burst of spontaneity, $name leans in. $rname has to hurry to adjust the magic controlling their air bubbles so that they do not collapse as $name’s blends with $rtheirs, and then $name kisses $rthem joyfully, their fingers twining together. $rname leans into it, smiling against $name’s lips—and $rtheir hold on $rtheir magic falters, just long enough for the bubbles to pop. $name gasps, seemingly swallowing a mouthful of water, and $rname startles, quickly pulling the both of them up. Blinking the salty seawater out of $rtheir eyes, $rname worriedly looks over at $name who sputters and coughs, still buoyed by $rname’s magic. “$name, are you alright?” Soon, however, the coughing sounds turn into laughter, $name chuckling between $their breaths. “D-did I- distract you?” $rname sighs with fondness and a bit of embarrassment. “You did. My… control slipped for a moment.” “Sorry,” $name offers, not looking sorry at all as $rname draws closer in the water and wraps $rtheir arms around $name’s waist. “Try not to do it again if you’d like to keep from drowning, my love,” $rname teases, and presses a peck to $their cheek. “At least, not without warning.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Sun and Stars@@ “But what can you <em>really</em> do with all that magic?” The moment $xname asks the question, you see $rname’s eyes flash and know that $xname started something $xthey may not be able to finish. “Whatever do you mean, $xname?” $rname asks, deceptively innocent as you and your companions enjoy a day relaxing in one of the inner courtyards of your personal wing. $aname and $dname sit on your left across from each other, with $rname across from you and $xname on your other side. The five of you are gathered around an outdoor table, $aname and $dname playing a game of backgammon while the rest of you enjoy some tea, though $aname casts $xname a dubious look at the challenge $xthey levels $rname with. “How much can you actually manipulate with it?” $xname replies, seeming both curious and teasing. No doubt in another one of those moods where $xthey feels the urge to pester $rname. “The few times I’ve seen you use it, all you’ve done is thrown a few basic elemental spells around. Powerful ones, of course, but—” “Is this what we’re doing now?” you wonder out loud, questioning the wisdom of needling $rname on what is otherwise a perfectly sunny, summer day. $dname does not even look up from the board as $dthey rolls $dtheir dice. “Let $xname walk into that one, $xthey won’t stop otherwise.” $aname snorts as the two of them continue their game, while $rname looks at you with glittering eyes that promise mischief. “It seems $xname is in need of a demonstration,” $rthey says coyly. “Would you mind lending me your aid, $name?” “Me?” You give $rname a questioning look. “What could I possibly do?” “Nothing at all.” $rname smiles at you, sweet on the surface but undoubtedly plotting something beneath the veneer. “I only need the essence of your magic signature as a starting point. All you need to do is hold still, and allow my magic to guide yours.” “Alright,” you agree, both curious and wary as you extend your hand to $rname, who takes it with both of $rtheirs. $xname arches $xtheir brows as $xthey watches. “Going to conjure up a lightshow, Sorcerer? Doesn’t seem very inspired.” “Oh, no.” $rname grins at $xname, and the hairs on your arm raise as $rtheir magic signature ripples up your limb, sparking in flashes of purple—unlike lightning, they don’t sting, and instead you feel a surge of energy and heat with every flicker that dances along your forearm. “I have something much better in mind.” Beyond the initial surprise, you focus on your own magic that swells to the surface of your skin in reaction, and allow $rname’s magic to guide your own. Something in the air around you shifts, and before you even fully realize what’s happening, everything on the table—the backgammon board, the pieces, the dice, your empty teacups, and even some of the potted plants near you in the courtyard—lifts to the air and is pulled towards you, beginning to circle around you. $dname sighs, glaring up at the backgammon board that flies up in the air, while $aname merely snorts. $xname has to duck out of the way of a small statuette of a lion that flies over to you, which you’re almost certain $rname did on purpose. “How are you doing this?” you question, and $rname smirks at you. “As a child of the sun, surely you did not think your only domains were heat and light?” “The sun has such power?” You look at the amalgamation of objects floating around you, and startle when you hear $xname curse up a storm. Looking over, you find $xname starting to float up as well, barely clinging onto the table while $aname begins to laugh at $xtheir expense and even $dname appears mildly amused. “Anyone with magic of a celestial nature appears to possess this kind of force,” $rname answers you, while ignoring $xname’s flailing as $xthey’s caught up in your orbit. “I myself possess it as well, which is how I know to draw it out of you. Our signatures are remarkably similar, after all.” “Fine, you’ve made your point!” $xname exclaims, clinging onto the table with $xtheir fingertips, scowling at $rname. “You can stop now!” $rname releases $rtheir hold on your magic, and just as suddenly as the force began, it ends—rather abruptly for $xname, who falls unceremoniously onto the ground with a grunt. The objects floating around you, however, gently lower back down to their respective places as $rname flicks $rtheir fingers here and there. You’re left staring in wonder at the easy display of skill, though $dname looks less enthused as the backgammon board and pieces return to the table. “Now we have to start another game,” $dthey grouses, and $aname rolls $atheir eyes. “I was going to win anyway.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Protector@@ It was meant to be a short walk through the forest. $dname should have known better. The hour was too close to twilight, where wolves tend to be most active as they hunt for prey, but $name insisted on visiting the wounded soldiers at the outpost. An admirable desire, and one $dname should have accounted for better. As $dname guides $name back towards their camp, flanked on all sides by several Imperial Guards, a wolf’s howl sounds from nearby. It triggers several more in response, and $dname already reaches for the sword at $dtheir hip—$dtheir mace hanging from $dtheir back would be too slow in dealing with them. “Stay behind me, $name,” $dname instructs, and $name does not argue, eyes flitting along the greenery surrounding them. When the first wolves burst into view through the bushes, one of the Imperial Guards—Kaja, if memory serves—quips to one of their comrades, “Don’t suppose you could scare them into leaving, could you, Ezo? Just aim your face in their direction.” The other guard scoffs. “Oh, go piss up a rope.” These wolves look too hungry to be scared off, regardless. “Stay in formation!” $dname orders, and not a moment later, the wolves attack. $cdthey sidesteps the lunge of one wolf and turns in step to slice its hind leg open, crippling it enough for it to back away with a whine. As $dname turns to face the next beast intending on pouncing at $dthem, $dthey glances briefly at $name in between, watching $them fend off a wolf with the flare of $their sun-blessed heat from $their palm, and lashing out at another with a dagger in hand. $ctheir training over the past year has benefited $them greatly. Reassured for the moment, $dname punishes the attack of another wolf with a mighty swing of $dtheir sword, sending it limping away with a whine as blood wets it fur. They need not kill the wolves outright: injure enough of them, and the pack will cut its losses and leave. They are not irrational animals, merely desperate, and $dname would avoid senseless killing where possible. Just as $dname turns to another wolf that has been circling $dthem in wait, $dthey hears $name gasp from behind $dthem, followed by a heavy thud. Heart shooting up into $dtheir throat, $dname begins to turn $dtheir head to look at what’s happened, when the wolf that was circling $dthem sees its chance and leaps at $dthem with its jaws wide. $dname manages to regain $dtheir bearings just in time to block its bite with $dtheir sword, fending it off—at $dtheir back, $dthey feels an even greater flare of heat as more magic is released into the air, followed by a pained yelp. Just as $dname brings down $dtheir sword on the wolf that was trying to ambush $dthem, impatient to turn $dtheir attention to $name, the very leader of the pack streaks past $dname towards where $dthey knows $name to be behind $dthem. The vines beneath $dname’s armor coil and tighten around $dtheir limbs, hardening $dtheir skin in a panic as $dthey turns and $dtheir heart nearly stops dead in its fright as $dthey sees $name laying on the ground, with a wolf intending to lunge at $them. “No!” $dname runs straight for the wolf, barreling into it and tackling it to the ground. More of $dtheir skin hardens as the wolf growls and twists in $dtheir grip, teeth trying to tear into $dtheir neck. $cdthey hears $name scream in alarm as $dthey wrestles the wolf into submission. “$dname!” But the wolf’s teeth are harmless, glancing off $dname’s neck, no different from if it had tried to bite through solid stone. $dname rolls over, tossing the wolf as far away as $dthey can. Almost seeming confused at what just happened, the wolf scrambles up to its paws and quickly hurries away, joining the rest of its pack that has been chased off by the Imperial Guards. Catching $dtheir breath, $dname sits up, only to be almost immediately knocked over again by $name enveloping $dthem in a tight embrace. “What were you thinking?” $name pulls back to look at $dname, incredulous and concerned, gaze flitting down to $dname’s neck. “Are you alright? It didn’t hurt you?” “I’m fine,” $dname reassures $them, running a comforting hand down $their back. “More importantly, are you unhurt?” “Am I—?” $name laughs in disbelief. “$dname, you <em>wrestled a wolf</em> for me. In comparison, I’m perfectly fine!” “You fell,” $dname says with a frown, and $name gives $dthem a fond and exasperated look.” “I tried to dodge a wolf and tripped.” $cthey releases $dname, the two of them getting back up to their feet, though $name holds $dname’s hand as if to reassure $themselves that $dname is fine. “A little embarrassing, but I could’ve handled it with my magic.” $dname’s gaze softens as $dthey feels the subtle tremor in $name’s fingers, and rubs $dtheir thumb over $name’s knuckles in soothing. $cdthey was just as terrified for $name’s safety, so $dthey knows how it feels. “All the same, I would not do anything differently.” $cdthey would do all of that and more to keep $name safe. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;By the Beach@@ The cold sea surf washes over your toes with the ebb and flow of the tides, the horizon of endless water stretching out in front of you while the sun sets in the distance—blue with glittering breaking upon its waves, contrasting the glow of orange and gold and pink that alights the sky. “Almost makes me homesick,” $aname says from beside you, the two of you walking along the sand in a quiet, companionable moment to yourselves. You looking at $athem with curiosity. “I imagine you spent a lot of time at the beach when you were growing up?” This is the western coast of Rojan, where the temperature isn’t as warm and necessitates a solid layer of garments to protect from the autumn wind, but it was an especially sunny day. Having been in the area, you decided to take a walk along the beach, and invited your Royal Protector to join you. $aname is dressed better for the outing than you, wearing a cloak on top of $atheir clothes, while you decided to go without one, judging it warm enough. “Nearly every day,” $aname answers, $atheir eyes nostalgic as $athey watches the setting sun. “If not at the beach, then still at the shore all the same. I used to… oh, look! There’s one now.” $cathey points, and you follow $atheir gesture to find a massive figure breaching the surface of the sea in the far distance: the long body of a sea serpent, leaping from the deeper waters and then sinking back beneath the waves in an elegant arc. Its shape is silhouetted against the sunset, a ring of black before its tail breaches last and then disappears beneath the waves. “And you met one of those face to face?” you say, stunned. Even from this distance you know from up close that such a serpent would be an enormous, towering creature. “I do much prefer watching them from a safe distance,” $aname replies with a mirthful smile. “They usually leave humans alone. As a child I enjoyed swimming in the shallower waters of the sea and waiting to spot a serpent breaching. I would try to dive underwater and pretend to be one.” You chuckle, endeared by the visual in your mind. “That’s adorable. Makes me wish I knew how to swim.” “I could teach you,” $aname considers more seriously. “You never know when it might be useful to…” $cathey trails off, and a moment later you feel why: raindrops begin to splatter onto your face, and you look up to spot dark clouds rolling in from overhead. The breeze begins to increase to a gust, and you have to squint at the sand nearly blown into your eyes. “We better find cover,” $aname says, gesturing towards the cliffs along the beach. “Come on!” It turns out to be a good call, as the rain quickly intensifies into an absolute downpour within moments. $aname finds a natural cave formed within the cliffside, guiding you inside while a few of the Imperial Guards become visible, warding the entrance of the cave off to protect against the wind and conjuring a bonfire for warmth. “Did you get wet?” $aname asks, looking you over. “Not that much,” you answer, but then shiver as the draft in the cave sweeps through it. Before you can say anything more, $aname unbuckles $atheir cloak and drapes it over your shoulders. “Here.” You definitely feel warmer, though it has very little to do with the cloak you’re now wearing. Without $atheir cloak, though, $aname’s garments are thinner than yours. “You don’t need to—” “I insist.” Frowning for a moment in consideration, you extend one edge of the cloak to $aname. “Then let’s share, at least.” $aname stares at you a moment, surprise flickering across $atheir face, but then averts $atheir eyes as $athey acquiesces. “Alright.” $cathey tugs the other end of the cloak over $atheir back, having to hold onto it so it doesn’t slip, and your arms are pressed together to fit. Your face warms even more than the rest of you, but you can’t say that it wasn’t effective: neither of you feel the cold anymore, this way. “You know the two of you can warm up by the bonfire, right?” Ezo remarks wryly from the cave entrance, and you startle as you’d nearly forgotten about the fire the guards set up entirely. Kaja elbows her. “Leave them be!” Beside you, $aname clears $atheir throat. “Let’s… sit by the fire.” “Right,” you mutter back, peeking over at $aname from the corner of your eyes, and you can’t suppress a smile when you catch $athem doing the same. Your fingers brush beneath the cloak, your heart skipping in your chest. “I would not want you to get cold.” $aname stares at you a moment, lips widening in a soft smile as $atheir voice lowers and $athey says, “How can I, with you beside me?” This time, you do not even hear Ezo’s teasing as the two of you sit down on a dry spot in front of the bonfire, curled up together beneath $aname’s cloak as you stare out at the sea together. Watching serpents breach through the surface as you wait for the rain to end. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Reunited@@ It is staggering how utterly distracted $rname remains for the rest of the day. In $rtheir mind, $rthey keeps thinking of the kiss goodbye $rthey and $name shared, every reminiscence unerringly bringing a warm flush to $rtheir face. Little wonder, then, that everyone around $rname notices $rtheir preoccupied demeanor. Master Keko is tactful enough not to remark on it, even with the knowing look in his eyes that has $rname feeling utterly exposed—not so for Ishrah, who prods curiously without a moment’s hesitation. “You seem distracted today, my <<if $rgender is 'male'>>lord<<else>>lady<</if>>,” she remarks, tilting her head slightly as she serves $rname tea in a sitting room. “Is it because the Crown is busy? Do you miss $them already?” $rname stares down at the table, fearing that if $rthey were to meet Ishrah’s gaze, that $rthey would betray what happened immediately. Though truthfully, it is nothing to be so dramatic over: a peck on the cheek is hardly scandalous. Still, $rname wishes to keep the development quiet for now. “Ishrah,” Siham hisses, and Ishrah realizes she may be intruding. “My apologies, I didn’t mean—” “It’s alright,” $rname reassures her quickly. “I, ah…” $crthey hesitates, before admitting quietly, “I do wish we could spend more time together.” “Oh.” Ishrah’s brows furrow with sympathy. “Well, it won’t always be this busy! It’s just with the Crown being new, and all the things that need to be tended to after so many years… but eventually, I am sure you will both have more time once things quiet down.” $rname gives a slight smile. “I hope you’re right.” It is a momentary comfort before $rname is called away again for a meeting with the Royal Secretary, and then once more to hear the concerns of several court officials regarding the use of unauthorized magic among the city guard. All throughout, $rname has to force $rthemselves to focus, else $rtheir mind immediately drifts off to the promise $name made before: <em>Then look forward to getting more after the meeting.</em> What exactly did $name mean with “more”? $rname’s stomach flutters to think of it. A proper kiss? Or perhaps even more than that— $rname’s hands grasp at the skirt of $rtheir dress, trying to keep $rtheir face straight while listening to the court officials and hoping they don’t notice the entirely improper thoughts swimming around in $rtheir head, drowning $rtheir good sense. This is unbecoming of the Crown’s Sorcerer: $rthey needs to focus on handling matters of state instead of being diverted by <em>indecent</em> fantasies. Somehow, $rname makes it through $rtheir meetings, and when an Imperial Guard finally informs $rthem that the Crown has returned to $their chambers, $rname nearly jolts in place. Before $rthey realizes it $rtheir feet are already carrying $rthem through the palace corridor in a rush, $rtheir heart pounding even quicker than $rtheir footsteps. By the time $rname arrives at $name’s quarters $rthey is nearly out of breath, frazzled as $rthey knocks on the door, $rtheir palms feeling sweaty. “Come in.” For all $rtheir eagerness to see $name again, however, the moment $rthey opens the door $rtheir nervousness renders $rthem quiet. $crthey slips into the room like a thief in the night, glancing once at $name before quickly looking away again and closing the door behind $rthem. “$rname?” $crthey all but flinches, startling as $rthey slowly approaches the table where $name is seated, waiting for $rthem. Heavens, $rtheir mouth feels drier than desert sand. And to make matters worse, $name seems to have no qualms remarking on $rtheir odd behavior once $rthey is seated. “Are you blushing?” “I… you…” $rname can hardly speak, burying $rtheir face in $rtheir hands in sheer embarrassment. $crthey cannot stop thinking about the fact that the guards are right outside, and would no doubt have witnessed to some extent the goodbye kiss $rthey and $name shared in the hallway before. It wouldn’t take a diviner to figure out why $rname would rush to the Crown’s chambers after $their return. Within $name’s bedroom, they will have some privacy, especially if they activate the wards—but if they activate the wards, then the guards will most certainly know what they’re up to in here. In $rtheir past courtships, $rname would visit $rtheir lover’s home instead and the guards would remain at a polite distance, but with the Crown they cannot afford to do so as $name’s safety takes priority. It leaves $rname flustered, knowing the guards will likely be aware to some extent of any moments of intimacy. $crthey must make peace with it, but $rthey does not like it. $crthey wants $name all to $rthemselves. $rname confesses as much to $name as they speak, and $name asks questions about it, but when $rname admits to $rtheir protectiveness—possessiveness?—the look in $name’s eyes changes. The gold of $their irises usually looks so piercing, sometimes almost cold in its radiance like the metal, but now it warms with heat like the sun distilled within $their eyes. “That is so unfair,” $name accuses, and were $rname not so agitated, $rthey might have chuckled at it. Instead $rthey replies with, “<em>You’re</em> unfair.” It is unfair how $name takes up all $rname’s attention, $rtheir thoughts, $rtheir wants, as if to leave nothing left for anyone or anything else. The fixation—the infatuation—is stronger than $rname has ever felt, leaving $rthem in tatters like no one else has managed before. When $name lifts a hand to cup $rname’s cheek $rname leans into the touch, soaking in the surging warmth of $name’s sunlight, and thinks that the hold $name has on $rthem is far greater magic than $rname will ever be capable of. “I did promise you more,” $name says, the desire in $their eyes keeping $rname captive. “Guards, put up the wards to my room.” $rname’s heart skips a beat, anticipating what’s coming—and still $rthey is left bereft of breath once $name’s lips meet $rtheirs. Any anxiety about the guards and the lack of privacy dissipates entirely, melting away like snow in summer. If heat had a taste, it would be found in $name’s mouth, clashing with the energy that sizzles and sparks within $rname’s veins like two stars colliding. It appears to take $name by surprise, but $rname grasps at $their garments, clinging to them as if in a plea not to stop, and $name eases again. As they both settle into the kiss, both of their magics unravel with their control splintered on both ends. A swell of warmth from $name’s body draws a noise from $rname’s mouth, breathed out against $name’s lips. It is a <em>blaze</em>, and yet $rname cannot get enough of it even while it makes $rthem start to sweat, gathering at the back of $rtheir neck and making $rtheir garments feel too restrictive. It makes it difficult to breathe between their kisses, and $rname has to pull away for a moment to catch some air. Through the haze of lust in $name’s gaze, there is also a flicker of concern. “$rname, are you—” $rname dips back in like a pitiful creature starved for something only $name can give $rthem. $crthey has never felt this before, the way their magics meld together so naturally and perfectly, as easily as $name’s tongue slides over $rname’s lower lip. $rname’s own magic flits across $rtheir mouth to protect it from the near <em>burn</em> $name’s light leaves on $rtheir skin, filling the air until it’s heavy with both of their signatures. But even if it had burned $rthem, $rname would not have wanted to stop. Yet, a knock on the door interrupts. They both are set on ignoring it until the sound insists, and when $name pulls away from $rthem, $rname has to smother a noise of protest. The lack of $their warmth feels cruel, and $rname takes a few moments to steady $rthemselves before $rthey opens $rtheir eyes. In the corners of $rtheir vision, $rthey can see the wisps of light that dance through the room—but no sight is lovelier than $name, $their eyes glowing gently and $their lips slightly swollen and glistening with how eagerly $rname tasted them. Still so inviting, too. The person at the door knocks again, however, and so it must come to an end. <em>For now</em>, $rname thinks, chuckling lightly as $name sighs with exasperation. $crthey is certain they will pick up where they left off soon enough. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Your Crown is: <label><<radiobutton "$flirt" "100">> flirtatious</label> <label><<radiobutton "$res" "100">> reserved</label> And: <label><<radiobutton "$ass" "100">> assertive</label> <label><<radiobutton "$pass" "100">> passive</label> [[Continue|R CH12 high 1]]</div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Saying Goodbye@@ When $name tells the others to go on ahead and asks $rname to stay behind, $rname’s first thought is that $name might wish to discuss something personal. $crtheir second thought is that perhaps something is wrong, or something has come up that $name wishes to consult $rthem on. Lately they have both been so busy with matters of state, $rname can hardly be blamed for not being able to guess $name’s true reason. “Is something the matter?” $rname asks, $rtheir tone one of concern. <<if $flirt gt $res>>Yet, mischief alights in $name’s eyes, the gold flickering like a coin catching sunlight. “There is, in fact.” $rname’s brows furrow. “Oh?” <<if $pass gt $ass>>“You didn’t give me a kiss for good luck.”<<else>>“I didn’t give you a kiss. You know, for good luck.”<</if>> $rname’s eyes grow as $rthey is taken by surprise, reflexively turning $rtheir face away as a flush of heat rises to $rtheir face and $rtheir heartbeat spikes, $rtheir fingers pressing to $rtheir mouth. It is a feeble attempt to contain $rthemselves, flustered so embarrassingly easily—it has been quite a while since the last time $rthey was involved with anyone. $crthey cannot recall $rtheir previous lovers ever saying such things aloud to $rthem. $name, however, seems to have a habit of voicing $their wants and wishes, and it disarms $rname utterly every time. “$rname?” $name’s smile fades a little. “Sorry, was I too forward?” “N-no!” $rname glances at $them, unable to fully hold $their gaze. “I was only surprised. But I don’t mind, just, ah, give me a moment—”<<else>>$name takes a breath, as if to gather $themselves. “I wanted to catch a moment alone with you.” $rname blinks, surprised, but then smiles as the admission inspires a flush of warmth in $rtheir chest, touched by $name’s desire for closeness. “Of course. I should have considered that.” $name hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to voicing such things, yet $they persist<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>. “I was hoping, may I…” “May you…?” $rname prompts, meaning to encourage $them, yet all $rthey ends up doing is causing $name to fluster even further, until finally $they push<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> out the words. <<if $ass gt $pass>>“May I kiss you?”<<else>>“May I have a kiss? For good luck.”<</if>> $rname’s eyes grow as $rthey is taken by surprise, reflexively turning $rtheir face away as a flush of heat rises to $rtheir face and $rtheir heartbeat spikes, $rtheir fingers pressing to $rtheir mouth. It is a feeble attempt to contain $rthemselves, flustered so embarrassingly easily—it has been quite a while since the last time $rthey was involved with anyone. $crthey cannot recall $rtheir previous lovers ever saying such things aloud to $rthem. $name, however, seems to have a habit of voicing $their wants and wishes, and it disarms $rname utterly every time. $name’s posture appears to tense a little. “Sorry, was I too forward?” “N-no!” $rname glances at $them, unable to fully hold $their gaze. “I was only surprised. But I don’t mind, just, ah, give me a moment—”<</if>> It is no use. Before $rthey knows it, $rtheir magic escapes $rtheir grasp and flickers along $rtheir fingers, attempting to spark through the air towards $name as if called by the warmth that $they radiate<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>. Perhaps $rname should not be surprised: both of their magics are not only celestial in nature, but also very similar. That alone would not usually be enough, but since $rname and $name have grown closer, it is only natural that their affection for each other would bleed through into their magics as well. Still, $rname does $rtheir best to smother the sparks. It is unbecoming for $rthem to lose control so easily, considering $rtheir position—not that $name seems to care. If anything, $they appear<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> intrigued. $ctheir brows arch. “Is that my fault?” $rname exhales a faint laugh. “You made my heart pound, $name. It’s difficult to maintain control when it’s so unexpected.” Surprise flashes across $name's face, but soon it melts into a look so fond and tender that $rname's heart reacts again just as strongly, skipping against $rtheir chest. It nearly tests $rtheir control once more, until $rthey wrangles it with a steadying breath. “On the cheek, then,” $name decides while $rname finally manages to extinguish the sparks of $rtheir magic. <<if $flirt gt $res>>$crthey looks at $name with a frown before $rthey can suppress it, having expected—hoped—for a little more. $crthey certainly imagined more than a kiss on the cheek when $name asked $rthem, not that $rthey could ever admit that out loud without being teased for it. $name seems to catch on regardless, playfulness curling in the corner of $their mouth. “Disappointed?” $rname lowers $rtheir eyes, $rtheir hands still folded and held against $rtheir lap as $rthey admits softly, “Maybe a little.”<<else>>$crthey looks at $name with a frown before $rthey can suppress it, having expected—hoped—for a little more. $crthey certainly imagined more than a kiss on the cheek when $name asked $rthem. Attempting to regain $rtheir composure, $rname lowers $rtheir eyes, $rtheir hands still folded and held against $rtheir lap. $name’s eyes rest on $rthem, $their tone a little worried. “$rname?” “I might have been hoping for a little more than that,” $rthey admits quietly, knowing $rthey has to voice these things for $name to catch on, what with how reserved $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>>.<</if>> “Then<<if $res gt $flirt>>…<</if>> look forward to getting more after the meeting,” $name replies, <<if $height is 'short' or $height is 'very short'>>touching $their fingers under $rname’s chin to pull $rtheir eyes back up to $name’s face, meeting $their gaze.<<else>>touching $their fingers under $rname’s chin, gently lifting $rtheir head to look at $name again as $rname meets $their gaze.<</if>> $rname cannot help it. $crthey glances down at $name’s lips, the need for <em>more</em> now that $name has promised it surging with such need that it even takes $rname $rthemselves aback. Was falling in love always this intense? $crthey cannot remember, nor does $rthey care to examine it as <<if $ass gt $pass>>$name leans in. $rname can only hold still and wait, not even daring to breathe as $name’s lips brush against $rtheir cheek ever so softly.<<else>>$rthey leans in. $name holds still and waits, and $rname does not even dare to breathe as $rthey brushes $rtheir lips against $name’s cheek ever so softly.<</if>> Like before, $rname’s magic sparks—this time from $rtheir core, shooting up into $rtheir limbs and then $rtheir <em>mouth</em>, drawn to the radiant sun held within $name. $rname feels its heat glow against $rtheir <<if $ass gt $pass>>cheek<<else>>lips<</if>>, and it takes every last sliver of $rtheir self-control not to let $rtheir own magic run rampant, tamping down on it as best as $rthey can. Once <<if $ass gt $pass>>$name pulls back again<<else>>$rthey pulls back again<</if>>, $rname feels the loss of warmth instantly, the connection between their magics snapping apart. Everything within $rthem protests even as $rthey knows they cannot make this moment last. “Take care, $name,” $rthey says, $rtheir tone soft, and $name gives $rthem a fond smile in return. “I’ll be back before you know it.” $name promised $rthem more—$rname will hold $them to it. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Select whether your Crown is passive or assertive during this scene: <ul class="a"> <li>[[Passive|D CH12 pass][$pass to + 1]]</li> <li>[[Assertive|D CH12 ass][$ass to + 1]]</li> </ul> <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Selfish@@ $dname has a feeling that $name will visit $dtheir chambers again. It has been a while since $dname was offered a room in the Royal Palace of Marabad. $cdthey accepted because it would be most convenient for the guards that $dthey knows have been assigned to protect $dthem, all while $dthey recovers from $dtheir near-lethal wound. Or, at least, that is the reason $dname tells $dthemselves. Yet in the shadows of $dtheir mind lingers that certainty that $dthey would rather not look upon, disturbed by what it might mean should $dthey cast $dtheir gaze there and illuminate it: in truth, staying at the palace allows $dthem to remain close to $name, does it not? With a convenient excuse, no less. And, much like any other afternoon where $name has visited $dtheir room in the past week, the Crown appears once more. The knock on $dname’s door rings through the empty space like an omen. $cdthey does not look towards it even as $dthey voices $dtheir permission to enter, standing by the window like a tree rooted into soil, half-fearing and half-anticipating. When the door opens and $name steps inside, $dname looks at $name, and $name looks back. $ctheir gaze is, as ever, terrifyingly beautiful. It is a mercy when it abandons $dname’s eyes and drops down to $dname’s injured side, allowing $dname to breathe again. “How are you feeling?” “There is no need for you to worry.” $dname averts $dtheir stare back out the windows as $dthey answers; $dthey must maintain distance. Even while all $dtheir actions are so contradictory, all $dtheir thoughts so muddled with emotion, $dtheir spirit thrown off balance with something $dthey has rarely known before. Selfish desire. $name approaches, $their magic coloring the very air around them and warming it with $their mere existence, strong enough for $dname to sense against $dtheir cheeks even with $dtheir warded robes. Before $dname left, $name’s magic was not this strong, but evidently $their education has helped it flourish. $dname can only imagine what it will be like once $name masters it completely. “It doesn’t hurt?” $name’s voice is as soft and as careful as $their approach, as if worried that even this innocuous question will spook $dname. Agitation curls in $dtheir gut at being treated with such caution—but is that not what $dthey claimed to want? Distance between them, so that no lines would be crossed? “It does not impede me in performing my duties.” “That’s not an answer.” A hint of frustration rises in $name’s words, strangely soothing over the annoyance that $dname felt before. Only, $name moves physically to stand between $dname and the windows, as if to force confrontation. “I am asking after <em>you</em>, $dname Sîdar. Not the general of the army.” <em>$cthey still care<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>></em>, $dname thinks with relief, before recalling that $dthey is not supposed to feel relief over such a thing, and forcefully turning $dtheir gaze away. “The general of the army is the only one you need concern yourself with.” “Are you that afraid of me?” The words strike true, seeing through $dthem and yet mistaking the cause of $dtheir unease. Underestimating how much $dname is fighting this. $dname’s eyes return to meet $name’s, $dtheir own far too exposed as something in $dtheir self-restraint fractures. A crack no thicker than a single strand of hair, yet sharper than a knife. “Afraid of you?” $dname replies, treacherous feet drawing $dthem closer to that source of seductive warmth radiating from $name’s very skin. “Would that I feared you and spared us both the misery.” Would that $dname had the sense to stay away—but who can live without sunlight? $dname’s heart pounds against $dtheir chest as $dthey stands closer than propriety allows, $dtheir gaze fixed on $name with an intensity that feels too revealing, too dangerous. What is $dthey doing? What are they <em>both</em> doing? $name shifts closer, $their foot sliding half a step forward on the carpet, but $dname’s brows furrow, and $name halts. As if trying not to spook $dthem, like $dname were a delicate creature that must be approached with care. Perhaps that comparison is not entirely off the mark, considering how wary $dname has been whenever $name has ventured too near. “I know you have your reservations about any perceived closeness between us,” $name says, $their tone soft and hesitant. “But I did not think that would mean you would guard yourself from me like this, even in private. Are we not still friends, if nothing else?” $dname lingers in silence, the weight of $dtheir own thoughts pressing down on $dthem as heavily as a mountain. When $dthey finally speaks, $dthey does so quietly. “You consider me a friend?” $name’s response is immediate, tinged with a vulnerability that makes $dname’s chest ache. “Do you not?” $cdthey doesn’t answer. $cdthey wants to, $dthey wants nothing more than to reassure $name, but $dthey can’t. Instead, $dtheir eyes lower, avoiding $name’s, and $dthey feels the sting of $name’s disappointment as acutely as if it were $dtheir own—it <em>is</em> $dtheir own. “All I want is for you to not treat me like a stranger.” $dname can hear the flicker of pain that makes $name’s words unsteady, and it stings like a wound far worse than any blade could inflict. “I thought we… I don’t know. Never mind. I suppose it’s not up to me.” $dname looks up at $name again, and when $dthey sees the hurt etched across $name’s face, $dtheir resolve wavers. $cdtheir mouth twists, $dtheir jaw clenches, and before $dthey can stop $dthemselves, $dtheir hand lifts. All $dthey wants is to make $name’s pain go away: in this moment, $dthey thinks of nothing else. $name freezes, $their eyes widening as $dname’s fingertips brush the line of $their jaw, the gentle touch drawing a sharp exhale from $their lips. The energy and heat that rises to meet $dname’s hand tingles up $dtheir arm, pressing down against the wards of $dtheir clothes—desperate to connect with $dname’s own magic. Yet, much like $name $themselves, it is turned away. “I do not mean to hurt you,” $dname murmurs, $dtheir expression softened by remorse. “I only wish to protect you. It is better for you if I… if we did not—” But $name doesn’t let $dthem finish. <<if $ass gt $pass>>$cthey tug<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $dname’s hand up from $their jaw, pressing it palm against $their cheek<<else>>$cthey lean<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their head into $dname’s touch, fitting $their cheek against $dname’s palm<</if>>, and $dname’s breath catches. $name’s skin radiates with warmth, so very inviting as $their gaze burns into $dname’s. For a moment, $dname imagines giving in, and $dthey doesn’t pull away. $cdtheir thumb moves ever so gently across $name’s cheek, and then, almost without thinking, $dtheir other hand lifts as well. $cdthey cups $name’s face, holding $them with a touch so achingly soft it feels like a confession. Like a surrender. $cdthey’s afraid—afraid $name might shatter, afraid this moment might shatter, afraid of what it means that $dthey can’t bring $dthemselves to let go. Is it wrong to live in this fantasy, even if for a little while? $name’s eyes flutter shut, and $dname knows $they’s bracing for the inevitable. $cthey expect<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $dname to pull away, to retreat into the safety of distance and denial. But $dname doesn’t. $dname leans forward, $dtheir forehead brushing against $name’s, their breaths mingling together in the narrow space between them. $cdtheir eyes close, and for a moment, it’s just this—just the two of them, suspended in a fragile, fleeting dream. Almost tentatively, $name’s fingers tighten around $dname’s wrist, $their other hand slipping around $dname’s shoulder, and $dname feels the light brush of $name’s fingertips against the scar on the back of $dtheir neck. $cdthey tenses, $dtheir eyes snapping open to meet $name’s longing stare, and a shiver ripples down $dtheir spine. The wards on $dtheir armor hold, but they do not protect $dname from the sheer intimacy of the act nor of the physical touch tracing $dtheir sensitive skin, leaving $dtheir heart trembling against $dtheir ribs. “Don’t,” $dthey whispers, $dtheir voice rough, pleading. And yet, $dthey doesn’t pull away. $cdthey doesn’t put a stop to it. $cdthey’s offering $dthemselves, even as $dthey begs $name not to take what $dthey cannot give. “Don’t what?” $name asks, $their voice as brittle as $dname’s, and $dname knows $they fear<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> the answer as much as $dname does. $dname closes $dtheir eyes again. “Don’t lead me astray.” The words are meant for $dthemselves as much as they are meant for $name. $dname feels $name’s breath hitch against $dtheir lips as $dtheir answer hangs between them, heavy with meaning. $name start to speak, to ask something—what, $dname doesn’t know—but the sound of a knock cuts through the moment. The spell is broken, the fantasy banished, and $dname pulls away, $dtheir hands falling to $dtheir sides as reality crashes back in. The Crown’s eyes meet $dtheirs, wide and startled, and $dname feels the weight of what they’ve almost done settle heavily on $dtheir shoulders. $cdthey steps back, putting distance between them, and the moment is gone. But the ache in $dtheir chest remains, a reminder of what $dthey cannot have—and what $dthey cannot escape. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Selfish@@ $dname has a feeling that $name will visit $dtheir chambers again. It has been a while since $dname was offered a room in the Royal Palace of Marabad. $cdthey accepted because it would be most convenient for the guards that $dthey knows have been assigned to protect $dthem, all while $dthey recovers from $dtheir near-lethal wound. Or, at least, that is the reason $dname tells $dthemselves. Yet in the shadows of $dtheir mind lingers that certainty that $dthey would rather not look upon, disturbed by what it might mean should $dthey cast $dtheir gaze there and illuminate it: in truth, staying at the palace allows $dthem to remain close to $name, does it not? With a convenient excuse, no less. And, much like any other afternoon where $name has visited $dtheir room in the past week, the Crown appears once more. The knock on $dname’s door rings through the empty space like an omen. $cdthey does not look towards it even as $dthey voices $dtheir permission to enter, standing by the window like a tree rooted into soil, half-fearing and half-anticipating. When the door opens and $name steps inside, $dname looks at $name, and $name looks back. $ctheir gaze is, as ever, terrifyingly beautiful. It is a mercy when it abandons $dname’s eyes and drops down to $dname’s injured side, allowing $dname to breathe again. “How are you feeling?” “There is no need for you to worry.” $dname averts $dtheir stare back out the windows as $dthey answers; $dthey must maintain distance. Even while all $dtheir actions are so contradictory, all $dtheir thoughts so muddled with emotion, $dtheir spirit thrown off balance with something $dthey has rarely known before. Selfish desire. $name approaches, $their magic coloring the very air around them and warming it with $their mere existence, strong enough for $dname to sense against $dtheir cheeks even with $dtheir warded robes. Before $dname left, $name’s magic was not this strong, but evidently $their education has helped it flourish. $dname can only imagine what it will be like once $name masters it completely. “It doesn’t hurt?” $name’s voice is as soft and as careful as $their approach, as if worried that even this innocuous question will spook $dname. Agitation curls in $dtheir gut at being treated with such caution—but is that not what $dthey claimed to want? Distance between them, so that no lines would be crossed? “It does not impede me in performing my duties.” “That’s not an answer.” A hint of frustration rises in $name’s words, strangely soothing over the annoyance that $dname felt before. Only, $name moves physically to stand between $dname and the windows, as if to force confrontation. “I am asking after <em>you</em>, $dname Sîdar. Not the general of the army.” <em>$cthey still care<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>></em>, $dname thinks with relief, before recalling that $dthey is not supposed to feel relief over such a thing, and forcefully turning $dtheir gaze away. “The general of the army is the only one you need concern yourself with.” “Are you that afraid of me?” The words strike true, seeing through $dthem and yet mistaking the cause of $dtheir unease. Underestimating how much $dname is fighting this. $dname’s eyes return to meet $name’s, $dtheir own far too exposed as something in $dtheir self-restraint fractures. A crack no thicker than a single strand of hair, yet sharper than a knife. “Afraid of you?” $dname replies, treacherous feet drawing $dthem closer to that source of seductive warmth radiating from $name’s very skin. “Would that I feared you and spared us both the misery.” Would that $dname had the sense to stay away—but who can live without sunlight? $dname’s heart pounds against $dtheir chest as $dthey stands closer than propriety allows, $dtheir gaze fixed on $name with an intensity that feels too revealing, too dangerous. What is $dthey doing? What are they <em>both</em> doing? $name shifts closer, $their foot sliding half a step forward on the carpet, but $dname’s brows furrow, and $name halts. As if trying not to spook $dthem, like $dname were a delicate creature that must be approached with care. Perhaps that comparison is not entirely off the mark, considering how wary $dname has been whenever $name has ventured too near. “I know you have your reservations about any perceived closeness between us,” $name says, $their tone soft and hesitant. “But I did not think that would mean you would guard yourself from me like this, even in private. Are we not still friends, if nothing else?” $dname lingers in silence, the weight of $dtheir own thoughts pressing down on $dthem as heavily as a mountain. When $dthey finally speaks, $dthey does so quietly. “You consider me a friend?” $name’s response is immediate, tinged with a vulnerability that makes $dname’s chest ache. “Do you not?” $cdthey doesn’t answer. $cdthey wants to, $dthey wants nothing more than to reassure $name, but $dthey can’t. Instead, $dtheir eyes lower, avoiding $name’s, and $dthey feels the sting of $name’s disappointment as acutely as if it were $dtheir own—it <em>is</em> $dtheir own. “All I want is for you to not treat me like a stranger.” $dname can hear the flicker of pain that makes $name’s words unsteady, and it stings like a wound far worse than any blade could inflict. “I thought we… I don’t know. Never mind. I suppose it’s not up to me.” $dname looks up at $name again, and when $dthey sees the hurt etched across $name’s face, $dtheir resolve wavers. $cdtheir mouth twists, $dtheir jaw clenches, and before $dthey can stop $dthemselves, $dtheir hand lifts. All $dthey wants is to make $name’s pain go away: in this moment, $dthey thinks of nothing else. $name freezes, $their eyes widening as $dname’s fingertips brush the line of $their jaw, the gentle touch drawing a sharp exhale from $their lips. The energy and heat that rises to meet $dname’s hand tingles up $dtheir arm, pressing down against the wards of $dtheir clothes—desperate to connect with $dname’s own magic. Yet, much like $name $themselves, it is turned away. “I do not mean to hurt you,” $dname murmurs, $dtheir expression softened by remorse. “I only wish to protect you. It is better for you if I… if we did not—” But $name doesn’t let $dthem finish. <<if $ass gt $pass>>$cthey tug<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $dname’s hand up from $their jaw, pressing its palm against $their cheek<<else>>$cthey lean<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $their head into $dname’s touch, fitting $their cheek against $dname’s palm<</if>>, and $dname’s breath catches. $name’s skin radiates with warmth, so very inviting as $their gaze burns into $dname’s. For a moment, $dname imagines giving in, and $dthey doesn’t pull away. $cdtheir thumb moves ever so gently across $name’s cheek, and then, almost without thinking, $dtheir other hand lifts as well. $cdthey cups $name’s face, holding $them with a touch so achingly soft it feels like a confession. Like a surrender. $cdthey’s afraid—afraid $name might shatter, afraid this moment might shatter, afraid of what it means that $dthey can’t bring $dthemselves to let go. Is it wrong to live in this fantasy, even if for a little while? $name’s eyes flutter shut, and $dname knows $they’s bracing for the inevitable. $cthey expect<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $dname to pull away, to retreat into the safety of distance and denial. But $dname doesn’t. $dname leans forward, $dtheir forehead brushing against $name’s, their breaths mingling together in the narrow space between them. $cdtheir eyes close, and for a moment, it’s just this—just the two of them, suspended in a fragile, fleeting dream. Almost tentatively, $name’s fingers tighten around $dname’s wrist, $their other hand slipping around $dname’s shoulder, and $dname feels the light brush of $name’s fingertips against the scar on the back of $dtheir neck. $cdthey tenses, $dtheir eyes snapping open to meet $name’s longing stare, and a shiver ripples down $dtheir spine. The wards on $dtheir armor hold, but they do not protect $dname from the sheer intimacy of the act nor of the physical touch tracing $dtheir sensitive skin, leaving $dtheir heart trembling against $dtheir ribs. “Don’t,” $dthey whispers, $dtheir voice rough, pleading. And yet, $dthey doesn’t pull away. $cdthey doesn’t put a stop to it. $cdthey’s offering $dthemselves, even as $dthey begs $name not to take what $dthey cannot give. “Don’t what?” $name asks, $their voice as brittle as $dname’s, and $dname knows $they fear<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> the answer as much as $dname does. $dname closes $dtheir eyes again. “Don’t lead me astray.” The words are meant for $dthemselves as much as they are meant for $name. $dname feels $name’s breath hitch against $dtheir lips as $dtheir answer hangs between them, heavy with meaning. $name start to speak, to ask something—what, $dname doesn’t know—but the sound of a knock cuts through the moment. The spell is broken, the fantasy banished, and $dname pulls away, $dtheir hands falling to $dtheir sides as reality crashes back in. The Crown’s eyes meet $dtheirs, wide and startled, and $dname feels the weight of what they’ve almost done settle heavily on $dtheir shoulders. $cdthey steps back, putting distance between them, and the moment is gone. But the ache in $dtheir chest remains, a reminder of what $dthey cannot have—and what $dthey cannot escape. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Your Crown is: <label><<radiobutton "$flirt" "100">> flirtatious</label> <label><<radiobutton "$res" "100">> reserved</label> [[Continue|A CH 12 1]]</div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Saying Goodbye@@ Ever since $athey was named as the Crown’s Royal Protector, $aname could never have expected that $athey would ever feel <em>reluctant</em> to part from $name. Before meeting $them, $name <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>was<<else>>were<</if>> nothing more than a means to an end to $aname, not in the least because of $atheir already terrible associations with the position. Yet, over the past months $athey has spent time in $name’s company, getting to know $them as a person, seeing how good $their heart is and how much $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>tries<<else>>try<</if>> to live up to the monumental expectations placed upon $them—is it any wonder that $aname became attached? Is it any wonder that $athey became infatuated? $aname has always tended to fall in love slowly, but that has also allowed $athem to have an intuition when $athey feels it coming on. That the mere thought of being apart from $name for a mere couple hours feels outright <em>oppressive</em> to $athem is one such sign, and the relief that wells up inside $athem when $name asks $athem to stay behind a moment is another. “Did you want me to wish you luck?” $aname teases, disguising $atheir own satisfaction—albeit poorly, as $atheir hands are quick to drift to $name’s waist. <<if $flirt gt $res>>“I wanted a moment to have you to myself,” $name replies shamelessly, and the way $aname’s heart reacts is yet another, unmistakable sign: thumping hard against $atheir chest, $atheir pulse fluttering restlessly in $atheir veins. $cathey can count on one hand the amount of people capable of making $athem feel bashful, and even among them, the responses $name manages to draw out of $athem are singular in their intensity.<<else>>“Didn’t you?” $name replies instead of answering $atheir teasing. “Want to wish me luck, that is.“ It only makes $aname want to tease $them even more. Another unmistakable sign. “I did, but I also wanted to be alone with you.” $name stares at $athem as if $aname is the only person in existence at this moment, the weight of $their attention and thinly-veiled attraction within it inspiring sheer delight in $aname. “Oh.”<</if>> Even more pleasing is when $name thinks on how soon they can see each other again after $aname confesses $athey wished for more time with $them. As if the two of them were parting for a week instead of a single afternoon. “Once the meeting is over—” “You have a classes before supper.” “After supper, then.” $aname tilts $atheir head with consideration. “Do you not have to study for tomorrow’s lessons?” “I can spare an hour.” As much as $aname wants very much to spent that time with $name, $athey is wary of imposing $athemselves—not to mention, $athey does not want to encourage, even if unintentionally, for $name to prioritize $aname above everything else. $ctheir duties <em>must</em> come first. Crown Piruz’ reign was already enough to demonstrate the disastrous consequences of the alternative. <<if $res gt $flirt>>Just as $aname makes to respond, however, $name suddenly lifts $their hand as if to cover $aname’s mouth, the near-touch of $their fingers against $aname’s lips leaving them both surprised for a moment. $name especially flusters, beginning to pull $their hand back. “Sorry, I—” $aname cannot let $them escape so easily. $cathey catches the hand, lifting it back up to press a gentle kiss to those very same fingers.<<else>>Just as $aname makes to respond, however, $name suddenly lifts $their hand to cover $aname’s mouth, the touch of $their fingers against $aname’s lips leaving them both surprised for a moment. Their gazes lock, a boundary willingly crossed and the thrill of it an intoxicating one. <</if>> $name’s skin glows with warmth against $aname’s mouth, making $aname wish to bask in it like a cat seeking out a spot of sunlight to curl up in. It is not the only liberty taken: $aname cannot help but indulge more, even with as chaste a kiss as one pressed to $name’s forehead soon after. These touches are so simple and small—$aname has been far more intimate with others, and yet even those do not compare to the anticipation and the <em>intensity</em> of what $athey has experienced with $name thus far. Is $athey greedy for wanting so much more? <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Reunited@@ The candlelight flickers, casting trembling shadows across the royal bedchamber—$name’s bedchamber now, though Ashti has seen $them still move through the space of it as if a stranger, borrowing luxury that does not truly belong to $them. Retrieving the small, red-bound journal from $atheir belt pouch, $aname watches as $name’s gaze lingers on her. Not with the calculated focus of a Crown’s assessment, but with the open curiosity of someone who hasn’t fully learned to school $their expressions. <em>Not yet</em>, Ashti thinks. The vipers of the Imperial Court will carve that out of $them soon enough. $name has already learned to keep $their composure in front of the nobility, but $aname selfishly hopes such a veil will never be raised between the two of them. At least, not in private. “Here.” $aname slides the book across the table, its worn leather stark against the polished mahogany. $name reaches for it eagerly, picking it up with an interested gaze, until $aname’s magic’s pulses outward from within the book and startles $them. “What is it?” $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>ask<<else>>asks<</if>>, caught between wonder and caution. “One of my old journals.” $name hesitates to touch it again now, surprise and confusion writ across $their face as $they look<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> at $aname. “Isn’t that rather personal? Why are you giving it to me?” “Open it and you’ll see.” When $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>do<<else>>does<</if>>, the memory takes hold. A faint shadow of the beach unfolds around $name: $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> within the memory, but with $aname not having touched it, $athey remains in the bedchambers and can only see a faint impression of it surrounding $name. $catheir Crown appears stunned, no doubt reeling at the view and at the sensation of sand beneath her feet. $cthey stare<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> at the horizon painted from Ashti’s memories in the far distance, eyes wide—$aname can’t quite see what $name is looking at in particular, but most likely it is the sea serpent breaching the surface of water. What $aname can see clearly, however, is the pure wonder that glitters in $name’s sun-colored gaze. For the first time since $they climbed the steps to the Sky Temple and was bestowed the duty of Arsur’s rule by the spirits of the land, $name looks free of $their burdens. “What is—?” The memory snaps away too soon when $they let<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> go of the journal. $name sways slightly as $they return<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to the bedchamber, needing a moment to reorient $themselves. “This journal contains moments from my journeys I wanted to capture, so I could revisit them later,” $aname explains, and $name drags $their eyes back up to look at $aname. “That one is one of my favorites.” “It’s wonderful.” $cthey speak<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> it almost breathlessly, and $aname cannot help but smile at the endearing sight of $their awe. “I have seen the sea a couple of times from a distance, but I have never been on a beach before.” For someone like $aname who grew up by the beach, such a thing is unthinkable. $cathey can only be glad that $athey is able to share it with $name now. “I thought you might appreciate it, what with having spent your whole life in Rojan.” “Thank you, $aname.” $name’s gratitude is wholly unnecessary, in $aname’s opinion: merely seeing $their reaction was already all the thanks $aname needed. “This is such a kind gift.” “I’m pleased you like it.” $aname shifts to sit closer to $name on the pillows, unable to get enough of the carefree look on $their face, for once unmarred by worries and fears. It is a dazzling sight: the beauty of it outshines even $their eyes. “We can explore it together, if you want.” “How?” $aname takes $name’s hand once more, then guides it back to the page to allow them both to enter the memory. This time, when the sea rushes in, $name doesn’t stare at the horizon. $cthey look<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> at $aname as their fingers intertwine, and the sound of $aname’s rapidly beating pulse drowns out even the crashing of the waves upon the shore. The true gift is the one $name grants to $aname, merely by the affection warming the gold in $their gaze as they walk along the beach together. In that moment, $aname realizes that it is the only thing that has made $atheir heart soar in what feels like forever. $cathey wants to show $name so much more: all the places and people and wonders that Arsur has to offer. $name should know it all, should connect with it all—not stay hidden away in a palace, cut off from the world like one of $their predecessors was, ruled by fear and paranoia. It is no way to live. “Maybe, using these wards, I could show you some of my memories of Rojan sometime,” $name offers, and while the idea appeals, $aname cannot help but tease a little. “I could simply read your mind.” “Is that comparable to this?” “No,” $athey admits. “Not even close. It feels more like knowledge and information flooding my mind. This is much better.” $cathey looks at $name for a moment, imagining what it would be like to see $their memories of the place $they <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>have<<else>>has<</if>> called home, and $aname finds $athemselves drawn closer at the thought. “I’d love to see Rojan through your eyes.” This is an openness and vulnerability $aname has not shared even with past lovers—they always lived in different worlds from $aname, unable to fully understand. But by virtue of the same title that once inspired distrust in $aname, $name does understand. $cthey <<if $pronouns is 'theythem'>>are<<else>>is<</if>> the only one who ever <em>could</em> understand, like no other. “And I’d love to show you,” $aname hears $name say, then sees $their lips form the words, seeming suddenly so very inviting. “To share it with you.” Just as the moment feels right, rushing with anticipation and with <em>want</em> in $aname’s veins— They are interrupted. It leaves $aname flustered for a few moments, struggling to recollect $athemselves, a pang of disappointment setting in as $athey realizes $atheir chance has slipped away. This time. But there will surely be a next time. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;A Plan in Motion@@ When the idea strikes $xthem, at first, $xname almost does not go through with it. After the busy day $name has had, perhaps $they would prefer to spend $their spare time recuperating rather than playing silly games with $xname. On the other hand, silly games are exactly how $xname cheers $xthemselves after working a particularly taxing job—even better if these silly games are of the romantic variety. $name might not have the same taste, but then, $they can simply decline $xname’s invitation in that case. “You there.” $xname chooses one of $name’s personal guards to deliver the invitation in question, one $xthey recognizes as the same person who has interrupted $xtheir private time with $name several times before. “What’s your name?” The guard nearly startles at being spoken to as they stand guard out in the corridor, flinching a little, but then replies. “It’s Ziryan. Any address is fine.” “Ziryan!” $xname slings an arm around their shoulders, and Ziryan nearly stumbles at the sudden weight. “You owe me a favor.” Ziryan peers back at $xthem with big eyes from underneath their helmet. “I do?” “You do,” $xname says gravely. “For all the times you have walked in on the Crown and I. Are you a bit of a voyeur, Ziryan? Is that what it is? Naughty, naughty…” “I’m not- I don’t- Pale Sword, I resent that accusation!” Ziryan sputters, getting red in the face, and $xname has to do $xtheir best not to laugh. “I have only endeavored to relay important messages to $ctheir Imperial Majesty! It is not my fault that it happened while you…” They don’t finish the sentence, averting their gaze and clearing their throat while $xname removes $xtheir arm from around their shoulders. “I’m only teasing, kid.” $xname claps them on the back, perhaps a little harder than needed, Ziryan almost tripping forward. “But I really do need you to do me a favor.” Ziryan frowns, casting $xname a narrow-eyed look. “Perhaps I ought to inform my captain of this.” Oh, the little shit. $xname raises $xtheir palms placatingly. “There’s no need for that! I only want you do to your job and deliver a message to the Crown. You’re an expert in that, no?” Ziryan considers $xname a moment longer, but then eases, giving a curt nod. “What kind of message?” “I need you to tell $them…” $xname thinks on it for a moment, a smirk growing on $xtheir face, and then $xthey says, “Come and catch me, if you can.” The poor guard gapes at $xthem, the flush from before only deepening in their cheeks, and this time $xname can’t hold back $xtheir laughter. Ziryan glares at $xthem. “You’re making a fool of me!” “No, no,” $xname assures, grasping them by their shoulder. “I am entirely serious! Yes, choosing <em>you</em> for it was purposeful, but that’s it. I really do want you to tell $them this.” “Oh.” Ziryan clears their throat a second time. “Then, ah, yes. I can do that.” “Do you think $name will enjoy it?” $xname asks, sincerely this time. At this point, $name’s guards have spent more time with $name than $xname has: they surely would have more insight to $name’s preferences than $xname does. Ziryan’s lips tilt into an amused smile, their embarrassment fading as they think on the question. “Truth be told, Pale Sword, any kind of romantic gesture from you would thrill $ctheir Imperial Majesty. You should have seen $them pining for your letters—” As much as the remark has $xname <em>melting</em> from the inside imagining $name’s excitement at having received a letter from $xthem, $xthey cuts Ziryan off. “Thank you for telling me, but don’t say anything more than that. $name has to be able to trust that the people who watch $them day and night will maintain $their privacy. Do you understand?” If it was a servant or anyone else telling $xname this, it would be different, but $name’s guards are in a much more delicate position than most. $xname has no idea how $name endures being under watch constantly—$xname certainly couldn’t do it. Then again, $xthey would be able to sense the guards through their invisibility, whereas $name probably forgets they’re there half the time. But that is exactly why they shouldn’t disclose such things to others without $name’s knowledge. Ziryan appears taken aback at first, but then their expression crumbles with remorse. “You’re right, of course! I wasn’t thinking…” “Keep it in mind for the future.” $xname smiles at them. “So, can I trust you to deliver the message? Once $name has returned to $their chambers, that is.” “Yes, I will be sure to pass it along.” “Good.” $xname gives Ziryan another pat on the back, more gently this time, and then goes on $xtheir way. Now, to get rid of this visitor’s tablet and start wandering the halls… <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Reward@@ For all that $xname’s plan was meant to be of benefit to $name, $xthey cannot deny the sliver of selfishness—or perhaps $xthey should call it greed?—that is part of $xtheir motivation in luring $name out into the corridors. Of course, it is a ploy to have $name to $xthemselves for a little while, and to think of nothing else. No pressing political crisis for $name to attend to, nor any of the guilt that lingers as it ever does in the back of $xname’s mind. It is merely a moment for the two of them to enjoy each other… provided that $name shows up. It occurs to $xname that $name might decide not to come, as unthinkable as that is. $xname knows well the effect $xthey has on $name, and is very aware of how much $name wants $xthem: their kiss by the city gates made that abundantly clear. Desire is clearly not an issue, considering $xname can hear $name’s heart beat faster whenever their eyes meet or their hands touch, but then, desire alone may not be enough. In the end, $xname may be simply a novelty to $name. The thought is not born of insecurity, but of years of experience: to many in the past, $xname’s reputation and status have made $xthem a trophy of sorts. Something to capture, then to show off, until $xname proves too difficult to deal with—either because of $xtheir constant traveling or the emotional distance that becomes apparent—and the relationship inevitably crumbles. $cxthey does not know if it will end up in the same way with $name, but $xthey certainly hopes not. It has never been in $xtheir character to fret about what might go wrong in the future, however. For now, $xthey intends to enjoy $name’s company, wherever that might take either of them—and thankfully, $name chooses not to disappoint $xthem on this occasion. “$xname?” $xname waits in one of the corridors nearby, listening to the familiar rhythm of $name’s gait and the sound of $their rapid pulse while navigating the halls. “Dammit.” A smile flourishes on $xname’s face, $xtheir own heart beating faster in anticipation. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up so soon?” “You’re really having fun with this, aren’t you?” $name sounds frustrated, but more so out of fond exasperation than any true annoyance. $xname begins to move, shifting closer to where $name is, easily able to pinpoint $their location. “Where on earth are you?” “Now where’s the fun in me just telling you?” $xname teases, $xtheir smile widening into a grin, a giddiness taking hold of $xtheir limbs as $xthey turns a corner even nearer to $name. It was a game that $xthey designed, yet now $xthey feels $xtheir own impatience growing—wanting nothing more than for $name to catch $xthem, or even the other way around. $name seems to have gotten a good idea of where $xname is by $xtheir latest remark, now beginning to approach where $xname hides. Trying to be sneaky about it too, which is rather endearing when $name must know that it is pointless with $xname’s sensory abilities. “Closer…” $xname encourages, taking a breath to keep $xthemselves calm so $xthey doesn’t abandon $xtheir own game and meet $name halfway. $name starts walking faster, with more confidence, and $xname’s pulse pounds in tune with $their footsteps. “Almost there, darling.” $name turns the corner, and $xname’s heart skips a beat as their game comes to an end, laughing with delight against $name’s ear as they collide into each other. The outcome doesn’t matter: this moment is solely for the two of them, a secret shared between them in the maze of the palace’s corridors. A fleeting instant where they can both leave everything else behind, except each other. And $name is so <em>eager</em> to please, too. There is something about the way $they look<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> at $xname that makes $xthem feel seen in a way few of $xtheir previous lovers have managed, always blinded by the flashy facade. But $name is different. $cthey want<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> to see past it, for $xname to drop the pretenses. The weight of such attention is both daunting and thrilling, giving a sense of discovery to things $xname thought $xthemselves long used to. $cxthey has kissed countless people in the past, yet kissing $name makes $xname’s stomach flutter as if $xthey were a decade younger and falling in love for the very first time. $cxthey can’t be blamed when $xtheir desire to explore this novel feeling overtakes $xthem, causing $xthem to guide $name back against the wall as $xname tastes $name’s lips and mouth over and over again. $cxthey cannot seem to grow tired of it, as if becoming <em>more</em> insatiable the more $xthey kisses $name. <em>Have I gone mad?</em> $xname wonders, moaning with unabashed pleasure against $name’s lips. Perhaps $xthey has. But if so, it is a small price to pay for being with $name. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Friendly Gossip@@ $aname is not sure whether $name thinks $they<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>’s<<else>>’re<</if>> being subtle in how obviously eager $they <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>is<<else>>are<</if>> to see $xname again, or if $they simply do<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> not care. What $aname does know, however, is that their Crown has become rather fond of the Pale Sword. Perhaps even fonder due to $xname’s absence. While $aname and $dname escort $name up the stairs and through the corridor to the guard captain’s office, $aname casts a glance at $dname walking beside $athem. The general appears as stoic as ever, yet when $dthey meets $aname’s eyes, they both exchange a look that holds a similar sentiment. No matter what happens, the both of them need to give $name and $xname their privacy. As soon as the door to the guard captain’s office opens and $name spots $xname inside, it is as if all else falls away. $ctheir golden eyes are fixated only on $xname, glimmering a warmer color in the glow of sunset falling through the windows. Similarly, $xname’s gaze is glued to $name. $cxthey wears a nonchalant smirk, leaning back against the wall in a carefree manner, yet the intensity in $xtheir eyes speaks more than $xtheir words ever could. Once more, $aname and $dname exchange a glance, their agreement a wordless one. “Guard captain,” $aname addresses them, the guard captain still bowed in front of $name. “I understand you were given the order to hold the Pale Sword until further notice. I relieve you of that duty. You may go on as usual.” “Of course,” the guard captain says, though they glance up from their bow at $name with hesitance. “Should I—?” “$dname, $aname,” $name interjects, seeming not to have heard their conversation at all, eyes still pinning $xname in place. “Could you give me some privacy with $xname?” The guard captain awkwardly shuffles out of the way while maintaining their bow, and $aname has to bite on the inner side of $atheir cheek not to chuckle at it. “Shall I activate the wards to the room?” $name gives an absent nod before stepping inside, and then closing the door behind $them. The guard captain slowly straightens from their bow and clears their throat. “I suppose I ought to, ah, patrol the… market… stalls.” They incline their head. “Royal Protector. General.” $aname watches them leave with lingering amusement before turning $atheir attention to the office. Reaching up, $athey traces the top of the doorframe with two fingers, letting $atheir magic seep into the wood and the stone. Within moments, the entire wall flashes in a bright purple, indicating the silencing wards are now active. “What do you suppose they’re talking about?” $aname wonders, turning to face $dname. The general folds $dtheir arms. “Nothing we need concern ourselves with.” “Very proper of you.” $aname is silent for several moments, before saying, “At least some of it will be a scolding, will it not?” $dname narrows $dtheir eyes at $aname’s attempt to get $dthem involved, but then admits, “If $xname truly has something to do with what happened, $xthey’s lucky if a scolding is <em>all</em> $xthey gets.” Attacking a Mîr’s palace and killing one of their guards is not a mere misstep, after all. “We’re in for a lover’s quarrel, then,” $aname muses, but then rethinks it. “Are they even lovers yet?” $dname looks at $athem as if $athey’s lost $atheir mind. “You’re asking me?” “You pay more attention to $xname than anyone else does.” “Because $xthey pesters me relentlessly!” $dname shakes $dtheir head. “Whether they are involved with each other or not is neither here nor there. So long as it does not affect $name’s abilities as a Crown, I could not care less.” “You are so frightfully pragmatic sometimes,” $aname laments. “And yet, rather naive on this matter. If you think $xname insufferable now, wait until you see $xthem while $xthey’s <em>in love</em>.” $dname’s eyes widen with realization, a look of horror so sincere passing on $dtheir face that $aname can’t help but snicker. “I am returning to the south forthwith,” $dname announces grimly, and $aname’s laughter echoes through the halls. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;A Sparring Match@@ “Are you ready?” $rname smiles at you from across the training ring, your friends gathered around the wooden fence and watching on with interest. This was your idea to begin with, but with your impromptu audience, you feel a little more nervous about performing well. Usually, it's $aname and you with a couple guards around you, their focus on their own training and allowing you to practice as you please without being gawked at. Perhaps you should have thought this through before challenging $rname the way you did, but you couldn't resist the thought of sparring against $rthem. $crthey was very impressive when you saw $rthem face off against $aname that one time, and you want to find out what else $rthey is capable of. Not that you expect $rthem to go all out against you, considering you're still in training. “Are <em>you</em> ready?” you reply, teasing $rthem a little, and $rname's smile widens with mirth. “A dress is an interesting choice for a spar.” “I don't expect I will be moving much,” $rname teases you right back, making you grin. “Ooh, now that's a challenge,” $xname calls from the sidelines, looking over at you. “Going to prove $rthem wrong, $name?” “Just watch,” you reply as you lift up your wooden practice dagger. You are curious to see how $rname will handle this: $rthey agreed to a duel in close quarter combat, but from everything you have seen $rthey strikes you more as someone who prefers ranged combat. Moreover, $rname does not appear to have a weapon on them. As if being able to see what you're thinking from your expression, rname lifts $rtheir own palm. Magic gathers, following after the motion of $rtheir hand: the air freezes over, ice forming in the shape of a longsword. $rname does not move to grip its handle, however, simply letting it float in front of $rthem. “Ready?” $aname calls from behind the fence. You give a nod, and rname smiles. “Begin!” You leap forward, intent on closing the distance between you as quickly as possible, knowing that you will be at a great disadvantage if you allow $rname to keep you at range. But of course, that is also what $rname expects you to do. The sword comes flying at you with a flick of $rtheir hand. Its edge is blunted, but that does not change the fact that it is a large piece of ice headed right for you. At the very least, $rname slows it just as it reaches you, allowing you to react in time and knock it aside with your dagger. Wielding a weapon at range through magic has one downside: it’s easier to deflect and push it away without a physical force keeping grip on the sword. At first, you focus on swatting it out of your path as you inch step by step closer to $rname, but focusing on the sword alone makes its moves unpredictable. Instead, you glance over to track the movements of $rname’s hand to see where $rthey will direct it to. It is tricky dividing your attention at first, and the sword grazes your arms multiple times at first—yet, as you grow accustomed to it, learning how to read $rname’s hand motions, you start to anticipate $rtheir attacks with more and more ease. “Well done, $name!” $xname cheers you on when you parry an attack hard enough to crack the ice in the blade. “You’re closing the gap!” You realize $xname is right: you’re only a stone’s throw away from $rname now. If you pushed the blade away hard enough, you could bridge the distance between you with a single leap. $rname appears to realize the same, as $rthey makes another drawn out movement with $rtheir free hand, both directing the blade and creating a new one at the same time. If you weren’t busy trying to win this spar, you would be marveling at how gracefully $rthey is able to do multiple complex things at the same time. It <em>does</em> require $rname to divide $rtheir attention, however, and in that you see an opportunity. The blade attacking you slows while $rname conjures a new one, and with one firm hit of your dagger, you smack the ice blade far enough away from you to give yourself an opening. Muscles flexing, you leap as quickly and as far as you can straight at $rname, whose eyes widen with surprise. $crthey hops backwards in an attempt to get away, and just as $rthey raises $rtheir newly created ice blade to your neck, you place the edge of your own dagger to $rtheir throat in turn. Your spar ends. You’re out of breath, sweat gathered atop your brow from the exertion, while $rname does not so much as have a hair out of place. Yet, even then, you notice the way $rtheir cheeks darken, $rtheir pupils grown larger in $rtheir silvery eyes as $rthey stares at you, as if transfixed. In turn, you’re caught off guard by how flustered—and how pretty—$rthey looks. Is this situation somehow appealing to $rthem in some way? You can’t imagine what it is: you’re sure you look like a mess, sweating and panting and clothes askew. You’ll have to ask $rthem about it afterwards, in private. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Just a Little While Longer@@ It turns out, getting out of the bathing pool is not any less tense than getting into the bathing pool was. $aname and $name have both been behaving themselves exceptionally well, in $aname’s estimation, despite them being <em>very</em> aware of each other’s nudity and pretending not to be. Whereas their conversations while bathing helped alleviate some of that strain, after leaving the pool and donning their robes, it returns again as they reunite and $aname’s eyes are reflexively drawn to the droplets rolling down $name’s neck, disappearing beneath the collar of $their robe. $name is not any less obvious in $their staring, either, seeming particularly drawn to $aname’s ankles for whatever reason. Perhaps it is an attempt to avoid looking anywhere more untoward, though truthfully, $aname finds it amusing more than anything else. “My skin is pruning,” $name complains as they return to the changing area together, and $aname snorts. “That does tend to happen when bathing for an extended period.” “We weren’t in there for that long, were we?” $aname thinks on it, frowning as $athey recalls all the things they talked about. “I’m certain it was well over half an hour. Perhaps even close to an hour, actually.” “Really?” $name appears genuinely surprised. “I didn’t even notice.” Neither did $aname, until $name remarked on it. Usually $athey is always aware of what time it is, needing to keep an eye on guard rotations and $name’s schedule in order to adjust for security around $them, but this time they were both so caught up in chatting that neither of them kept track of the hour. It is rare for $aname to have that with anyone: usually, after a certain point, $athey grows tired of speaking and would need to sit in silence for a while before resuming. With $name, however, the usual exhaustion does not appear. In fact, $aname finds that $athey never seems to run out of any things to talk about, and never seems to grow bored of listening to $name speak either. As they reach the changing area and both separate to dry off and dress, $aname recalls the glimpse of shock $athey caught on $name’s face when kissing $their knuckles, the fresh memory of it making $aname smile to $athemselves. In past relationships, while $athey has always taken it slow, $athey has never quite done so with this much teasing involved—but $athey already knows $name is different in more ways than one. $cthey make<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> $aname want to savor the gradual build-up, enjoying and relishing every little moment. Once they both emerge fully dressed and leave the bathing chambers feeling refreshed, $aname lingers close to $name’s side as they walk side by side. More than $athey needs to in order to guard $them. “How about a stroll through the gardens?” $aname suggests next, not ready yet to relinquish $atheir private time with $name. $name peers out the windows, a smile lifting to $their face. “That sounds nice.” It is almost strange how such a simple gesture as $name’s lips quirking up with cheer could bring $aname as much satisfaction as it does. “We could ask the servants to bring us a meal out in one of the gazebos,” $aname continues as the two of them walk through the hallways together. “Maybe a board game to pass the time—” $name meets $aname’s eyes with a mirthful and <em>fond</em> look, making $aname’s stomach flutter embarrassingly, as if $athey were a child with $atheir first crush. “$aname, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were trying to monopolize my entire day.” “Far be it from me to get in the way of your duties,” $aname replies smoothly. When $name casts $athem a disbelieving look, $aname amends, “I’m merely rearranging your schedule. For efficiency.” $name chuckles, shaking $their head. “Sure, <em>efficiency</em>.” “Are you complaining?” $aname brushes $atheir fingers against $name’s, and the warmth in $name’s golden eyes radiates through $athem as if a mere look were conjuring sunlight into $aname’s chest. “Not at all.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Truth@@ $xname does not want to talk about the dagger. $cxthey leans close to whisper sweet words against $name’s lips, urging $them, <em>look this way</em>. Do not think about the dagger that belonged to a woman wronged by the one who sits upon the same throne you now occupy. Do not think about why her child would ever give such a precious thing to the holder of the same golden eyes that once looked upon their village and saw nothing but a thorn in his side. What $xname speaks are not lies—but is there a meaningful difference between a lie and the truth twisted into a weapon? Both hurt the same. “I missed you, I longed for you…” For an instant, $xthey thinks $name will give in and let go of $their questions. But then $xname feels the touch of a hand on $xtheir shoulder, gently pushing $xthem back. $cxthey blinks, perplexed: $xthey does not remember the last time anyone turned down a kiss from $xthem. The frown on $name’s face sets $xname’s spine into tension. “If you’d rather not speak of it, then don’t,” $name says cautiously, $their reproach writ across $their expression. “But don’t try to distract me like this.” The words settle like a stone in $xname’s gut, the uncomfortable sensation of being seen prickling $xtheir skin. $cxthey does not understand why $xtheir usual methods failed so spectacularly, leaving $xthem on edge—and so $xthey lashes out. “I just told you how much you matter to me, and you call that a <em>distraction</em>?” In $xtheir burgeoning panic, $xname loses command of $xtheir sensory magic that is otherwise as natural and simple as breathing to $xthem. $cxtheir focus lost, $xtheir emotions spiraling, $xthey turns away from $name as $xtheir feet urge $xthem to flee $name’s eyes that have seen through $xthem so easily. $name does not take well to $xname’s attempt at escaping, and their argument turns heated. $xname feels backed into a corner, but $xthey does not realize $name feels just as pressured until $they finally snap<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>. “I know you’re hiding something!” The noise in $xname’s head goes silent, $xtheir attention drawn outward once more as $xthey sees the flash of fear in $name’s face—<em>feels</em> it as $xthey reaches back out with $xtheir senses. $name’s magic rippling across $their skin, through the air, coloring it with erratic flares of gold. Guilt follows quickly on its heels. $xname snaps out of $xtheir own dread for long enough to realize that $xtheir usual methods not only won’t work, but would hurt $name much worse than they ever did anyone else. None of $xtheir previous lovers ever cared to look too closely at $xname’s vulnerabilities, and when $xname pretended to be nothing more than a good lay, they simply brushed $xthem off as shallow and left it at that. For $name, though, keeping secrets is not nearly so benign an act. $xname should have known better. “I’m sorry,” $xthey offers, because it is the only thing $xthey <em>can</em> offer, sincerely and earnestly. Not for the first time—and not the last—$xthey laments who they both are. Were $name not burdened with those eyes, everything would be so much simpler. Opening up still would not have come easily to $xname, but at least then, $xthey would not feel the need to keep trying to deceive $name out of fear of what might happen should $they uncover the truth. It’s $xname’s own fault. Just as $xthey could not let Payam be and dragged $name into the mess that $xthey created, $xname keeps repeating the same mistakes in a different form, over and over. This will keep haunting $xthem until $xthey tells the truth. $cxthey knows that. But that doesn’t make confronting it any easier. “How long?” $name asks $xthem, far more gracious and patient than $xname deserves. It is said that the pilgrimage to the Armas Mountains, when done with a heart that is pure and a mind that is clear, will earn the Crown Şahmaran’s blessing and bring good fortune to Arsur. How can $name be expected to earn the god's approval when one of $their companions is lying to $them? Hiding such a monumental secret, polluting $their thoughts and causing $them distress? If Şahmaran denies $name because of $xname’s cowardice, then $xthey could never forgive $xthemselves for doing that to $name, and to Arsur. “Before we reach the mountains. I promise.” <<back>></div>

<div id="content">Choose a variation for the cuddling on the couch: [[R laying on top of the Crown|R CH13a]] [[The Crown laying on top of R|R CH13b]]</div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Coming Down@@ “Could you hold me for a while?” $rname makes the offer impulsively, and it’s not usually in $rtheir nature to put forth such bold propositions. In the moment, $rtheir only thought is that after the day they have both had, it would be nice to come down from all the stress and anxiety in $name’s arms. $crtheir Crown did $their best to defend $rname from the court’s machinations, and $rname hopes $rthey can offer $name some comfort in return. When $name then lays back on the couch, intending on having $rname lay <em>on top</em> of $them, $rname flusters. $crthey was imagining an embrace while they sat together, but this is… more involved. The telltale heat of a flush creeps up $rtheir neck as $rthey asks whether $name is certain, and $rtheir ridiculous fussing over $rtheir weight is more about $rtheir embarrassment than any true concern. $name likely has no idea of all the less than proper thoughts that have been plaguing $rname deep into the night for many days now, and $rthey fears that cuddling like this will only make $rthem more tense. Even so, it’s an offer $rname cannot possibly refuse. $crthey takes $rtheir waist-belt off before carefully leaning down over $name, and positioning $rthemselves with $rtheir head against $name’s shoulder. The first press of their bodies together spikes $rtheir heartbeat into a pounding rhythm, the <em>heat</em> radiating from $name’s body infused with $their magic brimming along the surface of $their skin. It is almost sweltering, glowing through their garments and making $rname exhale a short, tense breath, fingers gripping $name’s other shoulder to steady $rthemselves. Beneath $rtheir head, with $rtheir ear pressed to $name’s chest, $rthey hears $name’s pulse pounding just as loudly. It makes $rname feel a little better about $rtheir own overreaction to what is meant to be a completely innocent act, the two of them sharing some amusement as they both acknowledge it. $rname determinedly pushes away the awareness of how a single shift of $rtheir hips would turn this into a <em>very</em> different encounter, and counts $rtheir lucky stars that in this position $name cannot see the way $rtheir face burns at the thought. After a little while of growing accustomed to the feeling, they both gradually ease up: even if either of them wanted to turn this into anything more, neither have the energy for it now. Instead, $rname takes the opportunity to ask $name of $their own burdens. “I’m worried,” $name confesses. “What if I chose wrong? What if I made a mistake and end up hurting people? I can’t stop thinking about it.” $cthey <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>tries<<else>>try<</if>> so hard. Despite all the hardships $name went through before ever stepping foot in the throne room, $they never flinched in the face of any of it, ever moving forward with a resilience $rname has never witnessed before. Anyone else in $name’s position would have crumbled under the pressure, but instead $they rose to meet the challenge with a remarkable sense of duty to Arsur and its people. Yet $name does not seem to recognize this about $themselves at all. The only thing $they can think of is the weight of $their decisions, worrying and fretting that $they will fall short. <em>You give yourself such little grace,</em> $rname thinks, and then smiles wryly as $rthey imagines $name would turn $rtheir words around on $rthem if given the opportunity. So instead, $rname keeps that thought to $rthemselves for now, and reassures $name in a different way. “So long as you try your best, and make up for the mistakes you <em>do</em> make, no one could ask you for anything more.” “I know you’re right… but it doesn’t seem to stop me from dwelling on it.” If $rname could take all of $name’s burdens away, $rthey would undoubtedly do so without hesitation. It seems cruel that someone so selfless was chosen by the spirits and tasked with such a monumental responsibility, and it would be a tragedy if $name would lose sight of $themselves—of $their own wants and wishes—as a consequence. Perhaps that, then, is $rname’s responsibility as the Crown’s Sorcerer: to ensure $name does not forget that $they, too, <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>is<<else>>are<</if>> a child of Arsur who deserves happiness and protection. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Coming Down@@ “I could hold you for a while, if you’d like.” $rname makes the offer impulsively, and it’s not usually in $rtheir nature to put forth such bold propositions. In the moment, $rtheir only thought is that after the day they have both had, it would be nice to come down from all the stress and anxiety with $name in $rtheir arms. $crtheir Crown did $their best to defend $rname from the court’s machinations, and $rname hopes $rthey can offer $name some comfort in return. When $name then suggests $rname lay down on the couch, intending to lay <em>on top</em> of $rthem, $rname flusters. $crthey was imagining an embrace while they sat together, but this is… more involved. The telltale heat of a flush creeps up $rtheir neck as $rthey stumbles over $rtheir words several times in an attempt to speak, something $name nearly interprets as discomfort or disinterest, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. $name likely has no idea of all the less than proper thoughts that have been plaguing $rname deep into the night for many days now, and $rthey fears that cuddling like this will only make $rthem more tense. Even so, it’s an offer $rname cannot possibly refuse. $crthey takes $rtheir waist-belt off before laying down and positioning $rthemselves along the length of the couch, reclining against the pillow in the corner. After a moment, $rthey shyly lifts $rtheir arms in invitation, $rtheir face aflush with warmth. $name’s smile is filled with mirth as $they accept<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, carefully leaning down on top of $rname. The first press of their bodies together spikes $rname’s heartbeat into a pounding rhythm, the <em>heat</em> radiating from $name’s body infused with $their magic brimming along the surface of $their skin. It is almost sweltering, glowing through their garments and making $rname exhale a short, tense breath, fingers gripping $name’s shoulder to steady $rthemselves. When $name settles $their head down against $rname’s chest, $rname is certain $they can hear how loudly $rname’s heart is beating beneath $rtheir ribs. $name remarks on it shortly after, and $rname reflexively apologizes. “You don’t need to apologize for that,” $name assures $rthem. “Mine is too.” It makes $rname feel a little better about $rtheir own overreaction to what is meant to be a completely innocent act—clearly $name feels the tension too. $rname determinedly pushes away the awareness of how a single shift of $rtheir hips would turn this into a <em>very</em> different encounter, and counts $rtheir lucky stars that in this position $name cannot see the way $rtheir face burns at the thought. After a little while of growing accustomed to the feeling, they both gradually ease up: even if either of them wanted to turn this into anything more, neither have the energy for it now. Instead, $rname takes the opportunity to ask $name of $their own burdens. “I’m worried,” $name confesses. “What if I chose wrong? What if I made a mistake and end up hurting people? I can’t stop thinking about it.” $cthey <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>tries<<else>>try<</if>> so hard. Despite all the hardships $name went through before ever stepping foot in the throne room, $they never flinched in the face of any of it, ever moving forward with a resilience $rname has never witnessed before. Anyone else in $name’s position would have crumbled under the pressure, but instead $they rose to meet the challenge with a remarkable sense of duty to Arsur and its people. Yet $name does not seem to recognize this about $themselves at all. The only thing $they can think of is the weight of $their decisions, worrying and fretting that $they will fall short. <em>You give yourself such little grace,</em> $rname thinks, and then smiles wryly as $rthey imagines $name would turn $rtheir words around on $rthem if given the opportunity. So instead, $rname keeps that thought to $rthemselves for now, and reassures $name in a different way. “So long as you try your best, and make up for the mistakes you <em>do</em> make, no one could ask you for anything more.” “I know you’re right… but it doesn’t seem to stop me from dwelling on it.” If $rname could take all of $name’s burdens away, $rthey would undoubtedly do so without hesitation. It seems cruel that someone so selfless was chosen by the spirits and tasked with such a monumental responsibility, and it would be a tragedy if $name would lose sight of $themselves—of $their own wants and wishes—as a consequence. Perhaps that, then, is $rname’s responsibility as the Crown’s Sorcerer: to ensure $name does not forget that $they, too, <<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>is<<else>>are<</if>> a child of Arsur who deserves happiness and protection. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Mountain@@ After the court meeting, $dname finds $name in one of the private courtyards of the palace, sitting on the stone edge of a fountain, a ray of light falling down across $their head and illuminating $their silhouette like a halo. Yet the beauty of it contrasts to the weight in $their shoulders, the distance in $their gaze—$dname is struck by the sudden thought that perhaps the Armas Mountains are not the destination of a pilgrimage, but a reflection of what the Crown will inevitably become. Not a person, but an entity: carrying the weight of the heavens alone. The very notion makes $dname want to recoil, and when $name lifts $their eyes to look at $dthem, $dname thinks the gold of them is not like sunlight at all, but something much colder. A blinding, dazzling distraction serving to conceal how it consumes the person that holds them like a poison, eating away at them little by little. It is why $dname is here despite $dtheir better judgment. With all the weight of Arsur bearing down on $name, $dthey could not stand the thought that $dthey would add to that load rather than lightening it. $name appears surprised, if not outright shocked by $dname’s presence. $dname approaches with caution, heart tight with the weight of everything $dthey hasn’t said. $name watches $dthem with incomprehension, and why wouldn’t $they? All that $dname has done is to run away, over and over again. “May I sit?” $name’s disbelief only grows, even while $they rush<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>es<</if>> to speak. “Yes, of course.” $cthey stare<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>> as $dname lowers $dthemselves beside $name on the edge of the fountain pool. $cdthey keeps a polite distance between them, but in truth, $dthey’s already too close merely by being here alone with $name: $dthey catches $dthemselves watching the way the water glistens along $name’s fingers. When $name reaches down to dry them on $their own clothing, $dname stops $them without thinking. “Allow me,” $dname says, $dtheir voice quiet as $dthey lowers $dtheir gaze to $name’s hand. $cdthey lifts the edge of $dtheir red cape and gently begins to pat $name’s fingers dry, telling $dthemselves that it’s harmless. Yet, $dtheir touch lingers much longer than it needs to. $cdthey has done this before. Stepped in when $name needed someone, touched $them like this, and then pulled away like a coward. The memory stings. That night after the coronation, when $dthey found $name quiet and alone in the sitting room, fresh from $their meeting with Scholar Yekbûn. $dname tended to $them then, too, and $dthey still remembers the warmth and the weight of $name resting against $dtheir shoulder—stripping $dthem of $dtheir armor. From that point on is when $dname began to withdraw, all for $name’s sake, $dthey told $dthemselves. But now, as $dthey watches $name barely breathe beneath $dtheir touch, $dthey realizes the cost of protecting the Crown by pulling away time and again: it leaves $name to shoulder everything alone. And for that, $dthey feels unspeakable guilt. “It’s only water,” $name mutters, and there’s a note of bitterness in $their voice that $dname doesn’t miss. $name is already preparing $themselves to be disappointed again. $dname finishes drying $their fingers, but doesn’t let go. Not yet. “It would not do for the Crown to be seen with a stain on their clothes, water or not,” $dthey says, raising $dtheir eyes to meet $name’s. The moment lingers until it burns. $cdthey sees it all in their expression—confusion, hope, fear—and it mirrors $dtheir own as $dtheir fingers slide down $name’s wrist to $their palm, curling around it. $name’s pulse jumps beneath $their skin as $dname brushes over the pulsepoint, the touch stirring something dangerous in $dthem. Something $dthey’s tried too long to suppress. Once $name finds $their voice again, $they ask<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, “What are you doing?” $dname studies $them, knowing $dthey should step away, but the thought of seeing that expected disappointment in $name’s eyes keeps $dthem there—more effective at holding $dthem captive than any ward could. “Should I stop? Should I leave?” $name stares at $dthem, mouth opening and closing. “Why?” $they say<<if $pronouns isnot 'theythem'>>s<</if>>, searching $dname’s face for an explanation. “I thought you didn’t want…” “I don’t want to hurt you,” $dname replies softly, still holding onto $name’s hand as if it could anchor $dthem through this moment. “I don’t want to be your weakness. I should not be here, I should not be doing this—I know that.” “But?” $name asks, something fragile in $their voice. “I could not stand the thought of you shouldering it all alone,” $dname admits, shamefully. “I know it weighs on you. As resilient as you are, I saw it take its toll on you during the meeting.” “So you want to comfort me,” $name says, $their words uncertain. $dname doesn’t answer immediately. $cdtheir gaze roams $name’s face again, memorizing it. $ctheir mouth, then $their eyes, the quiet power of them—the burden of them. $dname’s fingers tighten gently around $name’s. “We both know I want more than that,” $dthey says, the words escaping like a confession, because it is. One $dthey cannot take back and, perhaps more worryingly, does not <em>want</em> to take back. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Weight@@ The armor gleams in the torchlight, every polished plate reflecting fire like molten gold. It sits on its stand near the bed, imposing even at rest, its curves and engravings meant for ceremony rather than battle. You study it with narrowed eyes, tugging at the collar of your tunic. “I want to try it,” you say. $aname, posted like a statue beside the chamber doors, raises one dark brow. “Majesty, that set is for parades. It weighs more than some of your guards.” “That’s an exaggeration,” you counter, striding toward the stand. “Besides, what kind of Crown would I be if I never wore regalia at least once?” “The kind who can breathe,” $athey mutters, but $athey’s already moving forward, hands reaching for the cuirass. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Even $dname would struggle wearing this monstrosity.” It takes both of you to maneuver the thing over your head. The metal is cold at first, settling heavy against your shoulders as if the Empire itself has chosen to perch there. You grunt softly, trying not to show how your knees bend with the weight. $aname notices anyway. $catheir mouth quirks in a smirk. “Still want to play warrior?” $athey asks, cinching the straps with precise pulls. “Or shall I fetch the historians to write your epitaph before the armor finishes crushing you?” You shoot $athem a look. “I’ll manage. Just fasten it properly.” $aname obeys, though $atheir hands linger a little longer than necessary at your shoulders, your arms. $catheir touch is firm but careful, adjusting each strap until the plates rest evenly. You can smell the faint leather and oil of $atheir gloves as $athey works, the warmth of $atheir body close enough to bleed through the cold weight of the armor. “You’re fussing,” you accuse, though the words lack heat. “I’m ensuring you don’t collapse the moment you stand,” $athey returns dryly, giving a final tug that pulls you a fraction closer. $catheir eyes meet yours—steady, warm, and a touch humorous. “There. Try to walk without toppling.” You take a step. The armor clinks, the weight dragging at your legs. You straighten your spine and march across the chamber, the echo of your boots ringing against stone. $aname watches with arms folded, expression caught between amusement and disapproval. “Well?” you demand, breath already shortening. “You look good,” $athey admits. Then $atheir lips quirk. “Like a statue carved to frighten children into obedience.” A laugh escapes you, unsteady beneath the strain of holding your posture. “That’s what it’s for, isn’t it? To look impressive?” “Yes. Not to move. Which is fortunate, because you can’t.” You roll your eyes and reach for the helmet. $aname intercepts it smoothly, holding the piece away from you before you can touch it. “Absolutely not,” $athey says. “Why not?” “Because if you put this on, you’ll suffocate before the hour is out.” $cathey puts the helmet aside. “And because I’m not dragging your unconscious body to the physician with this tin can over your head.” You smirk despite yourself. “So you do care.” $cathey gives you a flat look, though the corners of $atheir mouth betray $athem again. “If you break your neck, it reflects poorly on me.” “Of course,” you say lightly, though your chest warms at the familiar dance of $atheir words. You’ve long since learned to read what lies beneath the dryness. You try another lap around the chamber, shoulders aching by the third step, thighs burning as though you’d climbed half the palace stairs. By the time you reach the table again, you’re panting lightly, sweat prickling beneath your collar. $aname shakes $atheir head, stepping in to unfasten the straps. “Enough showing off, you’ve proven your point.” “And what point is that?” you ask, catching $atheir eye as $athey works the clasps loose. “That you’re stubborn beyond reason.” $catheir tone is teasing, and $atheir hands are gentle as they ease the cuirass away, lifting the weight from your shoulders. The sudden freedom makes you sway. $cathey steadies you instantly, one hand braced against your back. The armor clatters onto the stand. You exhale, rolling your sore shoulders. $aname doesn’t move $atheir hand. “You’re stronger than you look,” you say, half-poking fun, half breathless still. “I should hope so,” $athey replies. “Someone has to carry you when your ideas get the better of you.” You smile faintly, turning your head toward $athem. $catheir hand hasn’t left your back; the warmth of it seeps through cloth to skin, grounding you. You realize how close $athey is—enough to count each individual eyelash. “$aname,” you murmur. $catheir name lingers in the air, heavy with something unspoken. $aname’s eyes meet yours again, and for once the reserved aloofness wavers. You see it—the flicker of want, swiftly suppressed but not gone. You bridge the distance. The kiss is brief at first, $aname stilling with $atheir breath caught. Then, slowly, $athey exhales and leans in, lips firm, steady, answering with a warmth that belies every wry word $athey’s ever spoken. When you part, $atheir hand is still at your back, holding you steady. $catheir voice is low, almost rough as $athey warns you. “Majesty—” You cut $athem off with a smile, whispering, “Don’t call me that right now.” $cathey huffs a laugh. “What else can I call you right after you dressed up in a gleaming set of armor? Would you prefer ‘peacock’?” “You’re so annoying sometimes,” you say fondly, brushing your thumb across the corner of $atheir mouth. $cathey smiles back as $atheir cheeks dimple, and you steal another kiss, quicker this time, playful despite the heat that lingers between you. $aname returns it with a warm hum that shudders through your already overheated body, and it’s a very near thing to resist pulling $athem even closer. When you pull back, $aname’s lips twitch again. “If the court ever learns you donned ceremonial armor just for this, I’ll deny it under oath.” “They won’t learn,” you say, grinning. “Unless you tell them.” $catheir hand finally drops from your back, but not before giving the faintest press—one last reminder of steadiness. $aname shakes $atheir head and turns to the armor, adjusting it back on its stand as though it had never left. You watch $athem, warmth lingering in your chest, the echo of the kiss still on your lips. The armor gleams in silence, heavy, lifeless, meant only for display. But $aname’s presence beside you feels like something far stronger—weight you’ll never mind carrying. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;The Chase@@ The market is a river of noise and color, its currents pulling you from one bright stall to the next. Pomegranates gleam as red as jewels beside heaps of figs, silks ripple like water in the breeze, and the air is thick with the perfume of cardamom, mint, and sweat. You keep your hood low, the coarse weave of the cloak scratchy against your skin but necessary. To most here, you are no one—just another traveler with coin to spend and errands to run. For once, you are not the Crown. You savor the anonymity. $xname does not. $cxthey walks beside you as if the market exists to part around $xthem, green eyes vivid in the sunlight, $xtheir confidence drawing looks wherever you go. While you try to blend into the crowd, $xname seems determined to be noticed, and the two of you together draw enough attention to make you wonder if your disguise fools anyone at all. Then a cry splits the hum of barter and laughter. “Stop! Thief!” A person stumbles near the spice stall, clutching at their hip. A ragged child darts past, certainly no older than twelve, a coin purse swinging triumphantly in their small fist. Before you can even register the scene, $xname is already moving. “Come on!” $xthey shouts over $xtheir shoulder, a grin flashing as $xthey bolts after the child. You curse under your breath and follow. The market erupts into chaos. Merchants squawk as you shove through their stalls, scattering baskets of dates, startling a tethered donkey into braying. The smell of dust rises thick in your nose as your boots pound the earth. The thief is small and fast, slipping between startled shoppers, but $xname is faster—darting, weaving, moving like the chase itself is in $xtheir blood. Your lungs burn, your cloak tangling around your legs, but you push harder, managing to keep pace with $xname. The thief glances back wide-eyed just as $xname leaps over a stack of crates, landing in the child’s path. You skid sideways, nearly barreling into a spice cart, but manage to cut the child’s escape from the other side. The kid jerks to a stop, eyes darting for another gap, but $xname lunges. In a flash $xthey’s caught the kid’s wrist, twisting it deftly until the coin purse tumbles loose. The child snarls, wriggling like a trapped rabbit. “Stop that,” $xname scolds, tossing the retrieved coin purse over to you. Out of breath from the chase, you somehow manage to catch it, your legs still burning from the exertion—you’re pretty good at running, but $xname is on another level entirely. It probably would have been less exhausting had you used your magic to aid you, but that would’ve revealed your identity in an instant. Golden light is hardly subtle. To both your and the little thief’s shock, $xname then takes $xtheir own coin purse off $xtheir belt, and hands it over to the kid. “Here, take this.” The child stares in disbelief, then looks down at the coin purse like it might sprout fangs and bite them at any moment. You can hardly blame them. “You need it, don’t you?” $xname urges, pushing the child away. “Go on, scram. Before the city guards catch you.” $xname need say no more, the child glancing once at $xthem before bolting, vanishing into the crowd. Your lips quirk up into a smile as you watch $xname with fondness, just as the owner of the stolen coin purse arrives. They catch up to you, breathless and grateful. “My purse! Oh, thank the Spirits—” “Thank $xthem instead,” you reply wryly, motioning to $xname as you press it into their hands while $xname lifts a rakish bow. “Best keep a sharper eye on your coin next time,” $xthey says. “Not everyone in this market has such fine reflexes.” The owner stammers out their thanks to both of you and heads off swiftly, disappearing into the maze of stalls. $xname straightens, brushing dust from $xtheir tunic, and turns to you. $cxtheir grin is wide and wild with the thrill of the chase, making your stomach flip. “Didn’t think you’d keep up with me in that cloak. You’ve got some speed in you.” You lean forward, bracing your hands on your knees, lungs still heaving as you drag air into your chest. Sweat beads at your temple beneath the hood. “Speed, maybe,” you manage, voice rough. “But I’ll need a moment before I go dashing through stalls again.” $xname chuckles, stepping closer, the shadows of the canopy above striping $xtheir face. $cxthey tilts $xtheir head, eyes gleaming with something sharper than amusement. “Out of breath already? We only ran half the market.” “I’m—” you begin, but the words die when $xname’s hand slides beneath your hood, catching your jaw in its calloused grip. The world narrows to the heat of $xtheir palm, the smell of sweat and leather and steel. Then $xtheir mouth is on yours—sudden, reckless, a kiss as wild as the chase itself. It seizes what little breath you’d found, burns it away in the furnace of $xtheir lips and the fierce pressure of $xtheir body against yours. You groan with pleased surprise as you clutch at $xthem in turn, which only seems to spur $xname on more, hands flexing along your waist and making your heart pound. The market does not stop. Merchants still call, donkeys still bray, a child somewhere shrieks with laughter. But all of it fades, muffled beneath the roaring in your ears, the racing of your pulse. $xname kisses like $xthey fights—relentless, hungry, daring you to match $xthem. When $xthey finally breaks away, you are left panting, flushed, the world spinning. “That probably didn’t help you catch your breath, did it?” $xthey teases, $xtheir grin wicked as $xthey searches your face. You shake your head, still gasping. “Incorrigible,” you scold without any real heat behind it, and $xname damn well knows it: $xthey’s got you wrapped around $xtheir finger. “Couldn’t help it.” $cxtheir tone is almost innocent, though the gleam in $xtheir eyes gives $xthem away. You steady yourself, forcing your breath into something that isn’t a ragged exhale. “Then perhaps we should go chasing thieves more often, if this is what gets you so worked up.” $xname throws $xtheir head aback and laughs, the sound hearty and unrestrained. A few heads turn toward the two of you, curiosity piqued, but $xname doesn’t care, doesn’t even notice. “Careful, $name,” $xthey says, leaning close again, $xtheir voice low enough for only you. “I might hold you to that.” Oh, you’re going to pay $xthem back tenfold for all this taunting once you return to your chambers at the palace. Before you can respond, $xthey presses another kiss to your cheek—this one quick and warm, a peace offering far too sweet for the storm it stirs inside you. You catch $xtheir arm as $xthey moves away. $xname only grins at the contact, teeth flashing, before tugging free and striding off into the crowd, daring you to follow. The market resumes its rhythm around you, the chase already fading into background noise. Yet the taste of the kiss lingers, wild and dangerous, like fire on your lips—and the pounding of your heart tells you that this, not the sprint, has left you breathless. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Thunder@@ The storm hits the palace at night. It begins as soft rain, harmless enough—but before long, thunder rolls through the halls, battering against the wards erected within the windows. The wind howls, sweeping through the courtyards, making even the torches along the corridors flicker uneasily. You cannot sleep, the sound keeping you awake as your thoughts stray with worry to potential damage to the city, and to people who may not be able to find shelter from it. Your mind turns and turns as you already begin to plan on how to assess the situation in the morning, and what aid to distribute. So you leave your chambers and walk the silent corridors as your thoughts churn, checking on the guards, making sure the wards are holding. Most of them are. Some of them have run out of magic, and you catch splashes of rain several times as you try to slip by them. A few candle flames sputter when you pass. When the lightning flashes again, a figure steps out from the end of the hall—tall, composed, unmistakable. $dname, cloak damp, expression flat but watchful. “Your Imperial Majesty.” $cdtheir voice is low, cutting through the rumble of thunder. “You’re awake.” You huff softly. “So are you.” “I make a habit of it during bad weather. Some of the soldiers are uneasy.” $dname glances at the nearest window. Rain slashes across the wards, ripples of magic illuminating them where they are usually invisible. “You should be resting.” “I’ll rest when the storm does,” you reply, and when you move past $dthem, $dname sighs—one of those rare, quiet sounds that isn’t irritation so much as resignation. “Of course,” $dthey mutters, then gestures sharply. “This way. You’ll catch your death out here.” You’re about to protest, but $dthey’s already turning down the corridor, steps steady and unyielding. You follow $dthem to $dtheir quarters—large, sparse, lined with maps and armor stands. The faint smell of oil and steel lingers in the air. You shudder lightly. $dname lights the brazier with an already burning candle, then turns to you. “Sit.” “I was just—” “I know.” $cdthey cuts you off gently. “But you look like a half-drowned stray.” A startled laugh escapes you, and $dtheir mouth twitches in what might almost be a smile. You sit on a floor cushion by the low table in the room. $dname finds a towel and kneels beside you, catching the water that still drips down your neck and onto your clothes. $cdtheir hands are deft, steady. You could tell $dthem to stop, but something in $dtheir expression—that quiet focus—keeps you still. “You should let the servants—” you begin. “Let them wander the halls in this weather? No. And besides,” $dthey adds dryly, “I’m perfectly capable of drying one foolhardy monarch.” You laugh again, softer this time. $cdthey works in silence, peeling the sleeping robe from your nightclothes and wringing the rain from it, then draping it near the fire. The brazier crackles, the scent of smoke mingling with the faint warmth of $dname’s presence beside you. You glance at $dthem—the way the firelight catches on the edge of $dtheir jaw, eyelashes casting soft shadows across $dtheir cheeks. $cdtheir armor is half-unbuckled, $dtheir gloves discarded, and $dthey resumes taking them off where hearing you walk the halls must have interrupted $dthem before. $cdthey looks less like a general now, more like a person. “Do storms ever unsettle you?” you ask quietly. $cdthey freezes for a moment, so brief you almost miss it. “They used to,” $dthey admits, setting $dtheir armor pieces aside and rejoining you at the table. “When I was younger. The noise reminded me of battle. The smell of iron in the air.” You look at $dthem sidelong. “And now?” $dname hesitates before answering. “Now it reminds me that I survived.” The words linger in the air between you, heavier than thunder. When the next flash of lightning fills the room, $dthey’s closer than before—an arm wraps around your waist in the dark where the firelight doesn’t reach, and you lean into it, the quiet affection going unmentioned. “You shouldn’t walk the halls alone during storms,” $dname murmurs. “The wards are not invincible, $name.” “A little rain won’t kill me.” “Probably not,” $dthey concedes. “But I’d rather you not catch a cold all the same.” The fire pops, filling the silence. Outside, the rain pounds harder against the window wards. $dname glances toward it, then back at you. “Stay here until it passes,” $dthey says. “It’s safer.” You nod faintly. “Do you give orders to all your Crowns?” “Only the reckless ones.” You smile, settling a hand along $dtheir knee, channeling your magic and radiating the glow of the sun through $dname in turn, to repay $dthem for the warmth $dthey offers you. $dname’s eyes widen slightly, and then you feel $dthem shiver lightly, a heavy exhale passing $dtheir lips as $dtheir eyelids lower with pleasure. There is a long pause as you enjoy the sight of $dthem basking in the sensation. Then, quietly: “Thank you, $dname.” $cdtheir shoulders relax, eyes briefly fluttering shut with a hum. “Don’t thank me. Just… take care of yourself.” For a time, neither of you speak. The rain softens, the thunder grows distant. “You know,” $dthey says after a while, eyes cracking open again, “when I first joined the army, I used to count the seconds between lightning and thunder. I thought if I could predict it, I could control it.” “Did it work?” “No,” $dthey admits, lips curving faintly. “But it made me feel brave enough to stand through it.” You watch $dthem quietly. “You do too,” you say, fingers squeezing lightly around $dtheir knee. “Make people feel brave.” $cdtheir gaze flickers toward you, startled—then softens. $cdthey leans in as the fire in the brazier dwindles until you are both enveloped by the night, a veil to shield you from prying eyes as $dtheir lips meet yours with a whisper of breath, soft and tender. The storm dwindles to rain. The air grows still, save for where it’s stirred by your breaths. You stay like that, the warmth between you steady and wordless as you exchange quiet, gentle kisses. $cdtheir fingers fit along your jaw, holding you reverently, and your hand caresses $dtheir thigh without any further intent, simply soaking in the affection and returning it. Outside, the night sighs with the scent of rain-washed air. When the last rumble of thunder fades, $dname parts from your lips with a soft sound of contentment. “You should rest.” You steal one last kiss before you finally let $dthem go. “I could say the same to you.” Slowly, $dthey takes your hand in $dtheirs and rises from the cushions, a faint smile lingering as $dthey tugs you toward $dtheir bed. “Then perhaps I will.” The fire burns low. The world outside drifts into silence. For once, it feels safe to sleep. <<back>></div>

<div id="content">@@.titlepurple2;Free@@ The sun is only beginning to rise when $rname appears at your door, a faint flush already on $rtheir cheeks from the brisk morning air. “What would you say to riding down the Crown’s Road after breakfast?” $rthey says, eyes bright. “To survey it, of course.” You catch the gleam in $rtheir gaze—a hint of playfulness—and know it’s less about duty than escape. The palace grounds are still heavy with mist when you saddle the horses. Dew beads on leather and bridle, and the air smells of earth and rain. $rname’s black mount stamps impatiently, as if sharing $rtheir anticipation. You swing onto your own saddle atop your dapple gray mare, falling in beside $rname as you take one of the entrances to the underground tunnels, a smooth incline of stone down to accommodate your horses. It doesn’t take long for you to make your way beneath the city, enjoying pleasant conversation with $rname in the meantime. Your Imperial Guards no doubt follow you, and both you and $rname are mindful to keep your steeds at a slow, walking pace so the guards don’t have to run after you. A short while later, you emerge near the city gates. Your cloaks hide your garments well enough, a glamor concealing the gold of your eyes. The city guards at the gates don’t look twice as you pass through. Then, the Crown’s Road stretches before you, washed in gold. Fields ripple to either side, their edges soft and indistinct in the haze, the forest of Anshan visible a short ride away. For a while, neither you or $rname speak. It’s enough to listen—to the rhythmic drumming of hooves, to the occasional chirping of birds cutting through the quiet. $rname rides ahead slightly, posture easy, hands loose on the reins. $crthey wears a pair of loose trousers for the occasion instead of a dress, and your eyes trail briefly and admiringly over the length of $rtheir long legs. The sunlight catches on the curve of $rname’s smile as $rthey looks toward the Armas Mountains. “Surveying, are we?” you ask at last, voice carrying lightly over the breeze. $crthey glances back, feigning innocence. “Of course. A ruler must know the condition of their roads.” “Ah, yes, the roads,” you tease. “And the wildflowers blooming alongside them.” A faint laugh escapes $rthem. “You sound suspicious, $name.” “With good reason,” you reply, nudging your horse forward. “I seem to recall this exact expression on your face before you dragged me into a magical sparring match ‘to test my reflexes.’” $crthey raises an eyebrow, utterly unrepentant. “You won that, didn’t you?” You huff. “Barely, and only because you were blindfolded.” “Then clearly I’m improving your abilities.” “Is that what you’re doing now?” $rname only grins, and then, without warning, digs $rtheir heels into the horse’s sides. The beast surges forward, dark mane streaming in the wind. “$rname!” you call after $rthem, laughing despite yourself. “That’s hardly fair!” The only answer is $rtheir laughter—bright, uninhibited—and the fading echo of hooves striking the earth. You give chase. The wind roars past your ears as the horses fly down the road, kicking up dust and morning mist. Before long, the two of you enter the forest, trees rushing past. The world narrows to speed, to motion, to the exhilaration of pursuit. $rname’s cloak flares behind $rthem, and for a moment you think you might catch up—until $rthey glances over $rtheir shoulder with a mischievous smile and then bends down, murmuring something to $rtheir horse. A shimmer of pale light begins to flicker and then glow around $rtheir horse’s black hooves. Air magic—subtle, gleaming—and then $rname surges ahead again, faster, the horse’s magic catching like wind in the sails. For a moment, it almost seems like the horse floats above the ground. “You’re cheating!” you shout, laughing. “I’m <em>winning!</em>” $rthey calls back, voice ringing with delight. You urge your horse on, but it’s useless: you don’t know how to summon your own mount’s magic like that. Still, you chase, heart pounding, half from exertion and half from the sheer joy of it. It’s been too long since you’ve felt this—the freedom of movement without expectation, laughter unbound by ceremony. When at last $rname reins $rtheir horse to a halt by a small clearing off the road, you pull up beside $rthem, breathless. The morning light filters through the trees, scattering gold over grass still jeweled with dew. $rname swings down from $rtheir saddle with practiced ease, brushing stray hair from $rtheir face, cheeks flushed attractively with color. “You—” you begin, still catching your breath, “—used your horse’s magic.” $rname tilts $rtheir head innocently. “Did I? I thought the wind was simply in my favor.” You dismount, leading your horse to graze near the treeline. The clearing is quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the waking forest. $rname watches you for a moment, then looks away toward the road, expression softening. “I used to do this as a child,” $rthey says after a moment, voice low. “Not the riding—we didn’t have horses of our own—but running. My cousins and I would race from the city gates down the old road until we couldn’t breathe from laughing. I’d always lose, but it never mattered.” $crtheir gaze drifts down the road through the forest. “I’d forgotten what it feels like.” You step closer, reaching out to brush your hand along $rtheir arm. “It suits you,” you say fondly. “Seeing you like this.” $crthey glances at you, a small, almost wistful smile curving $rtheir lips. “You make it sound as though I spend every hour buried in books.” “You <em>do</em> spend every hour buried in books,” you tease. “When was the last time you let yourself just… breathe?” $rname exhales, a quiet laugh that’s half admission. “I suppose I’ve been busy.” You meet $rtheir eyes. “You don’t have to apologize for living, $rname.” The words linger in the stillness between you. For a moment, $rthey seems unsure what to say—then, slowly, $rthey reaches out, fingertips brushing the side of your face. $crtheir touch is warm from the ride, still tingling with remnants of the horse’s magic. “Sometimes I forget,” $rthey admits, “that I’m allowed to want things that aren’t duty.” You cover $rtheir hand with yours, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to $rtheir palm. “Then let this morning be your reminder.” For a moment neither of you move. The world seems to pause around you, the rustle of the trees, the horses grazing, the hush of the forest. Then $rname’s thumb traces along your jaw, a tender, unhurried motion. “I missed this,” $rthey admit. “Not the road, not the race—you.” The words are simple, but they strike deep. You draw $rthem closer until the distance between you disappears, your forehead resting against $rtheirs. The scent of wildflowers and leather, the rhythm of $rtheir breath—all of it folds together into something steady and grounding. “You could’ve said that without cheating,” you mutter against $rtheir lips. $crthey smiles. “But where’s the fun in that?” You kiss $rthem—gently at first, then with the slow certainty of familiarity. It’s not a kiss of discovery but of return, like finding your way back to something that’s always been waiting. The world narrows again, not to motion this time but to stillness, to the quiet hum of life between two heartbeats. When you part, the air feels different. Lighter. $rname laughs quietly, leaning against you, and you think there’s no sound you’d rather hear. The horses snort nearby, restless, and $rname lifts $rtheir head. “Shall we race back?” You groan. “You’ll just cheat again.” “Only a little.” You roll your eyes, but the smile stays. “Then you’d better give me a head start.” “As you wish,” $rthey says, already mounting $rtheir horse. As you swing onto your saddle, you glance once more at the clearing—the soft grass, the shimmer of morning light—and think you’ll remember this: the laughter, the warmth, the brief feeling of the world being simple and whole. $rname catches your gaze, smiling in that way that makes it hard to breathe, and for a fleeting heartbeat, duty feels very far away. Then $rthey nods toward the road, the sun rising bright through the trees. “Ready?” You meet $rtheir challenge with a grin. “Always.” And together, you ride. <<back>></div>