"I see what it's like
I see what it's like for day and night
Never together
'Cause they see things in a different light"

You and I - One Direction
(Idc what anyone says this song is still ART and the lyrics literally represent this story sksksksjaj)

Spice -o- meter: 🌶️🌶️

🌗

"Sorina, please put on the damn dress."

"No."

Clarisse, my favorite and only friend, looks exasperated. She's been begging for about a half hour. And more than late to her other servant duties because of my refusal.

I did feel bad for wasting her time. I didn't feel a thing about denying the King's command other than childish delight.

After that strange night, where he confessed his need for my flesh, he hadn't made another statement of that proportion.

Yet with all his duties, he still managed to find the time to taunt me in my cage. Telling me about his noble friends, and how he had recently learned how to make stained glass. I knew how to add colors and mend them together, useless information considering my circumstance. All
while he sipped on a cup of my silver blood.

Though he didn't drink it right in front me anymore. He had the decency to hide, wiping the corners of his lips before he babbled about anything and everything.

It'd been a year since that night. Where he spun tales of lust. The curse's pull, I knew it to be.

That is all it could be.

I ignored him every night he came to visit. As always. But sometimes his ramblings were the only human interaction I had. So I began to tolerate them. Only for my dwindling sanity.

Until the queen found out two months ago, about his late night visits. I was the only one punished for his transgressions.

She decided to lash me in front of the entire court. Conveniently while the King had been away for a hunt.

When he had returned I felt betrayed. I don't know why, when I hated him and did not expect him to save me. I never trusted him. But, I never thought he'd let her hurt me.

Not after what he had said.

No matter how much pity he'd sent my way. Or how he'd cut himself grasping through the bars, trying to touch my back. Offering to close the wounds.

When I told him to leave me alone, I meant it more than an oath.

And Clarisse had come to visit me every night since instead for these past two months.

"The King wishes to make amends." The blonde servant said, biting the corner of her lip as if to hide a smile.

Everyone but myself finding the King's infatuation endearing. It wasn't. It was a cruel mockery of the deities, making him want the one person he needed to keep himself alive.

If I was not the daughter of the moon, he wouldn't want me. That much I knew. He wanted my blood, but he could not have all of it.

Or the sun would shine and he'd be burnt to a crisp.

I smile at the thought, "He can go lick a goats ass. If he doesn't suck it dry of blood first."

Clarisse huffs, "I will relay that message if you would like. But I'm not certain your attendance is a choice. He was adamant about it."

Of course.

"It's never a choice, and he's always resolute."

"Sorina. Who cares about the King? Take this opportunity to see the sky. The stars. The moon. To piss off the queen by looking utterly devastating in this dress." The blonde's smile turns devious, eyebrows lifting.

I shiver. The cold suddenly less suffocating.

After three years in captivity. To finally see the moon again?

I want to say no. But I can't. Not for the King, but I cannot deny myself the pleasure. The power that would course through my veins.

I miss it.

"Fine. Only because you are so dear to me Clarisse."

I take the dress. Clarisse goes to work, setting up a long mirror against the wall. Takes out a basket of what looks like rouge, charcoal, and other makeup. I am just happy because I was able to take a real bath today. I smell of lilac, and another floral scent I cannot place.

She curled my hair, heated with an iron. Turning my long sheet of straight hair into something redeemable. Reddened my cheeks and lips to a deep blood color. Thickened my lashes with charcoal.

With her help, I place on the dress. And then I look in the mirror.

My silver eyes take up my entire face. My hair hugs around me, like curled wings of a raven. My skin is pale, paler than it had been since I arrived. My face is round like the moon, but jutted out at my cheekbones, my jaw. The skin too thin and translucent. At least the magic outside had been enough to simulate some sunlight on my skin. Now the red and the silver and black stand out on a canvas of pallid suffering. My bones stick out, I refuse to eat. I miss my breasts, the softness of my stomach.

The white dress clutches to me. Snow on bone. It's beautiful. The material draping, as if it were moonlight and sea foam pulled from the ocean. The drop waist makes my hips look bigger, like how they used to be.

I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel like Sorina, who had many young male suitors in her village. Who was the pride and joy of her family. Who had been alive.

"You are-" Clarisse says, stumbling on the words.

I smile at myself, at her softly, "Withering away? Bony? Lifeless?"

Clarisse shakes her head, eyes wide with shock at my pessimism, "You're stunning. The King won't be able to take his eyes off of you."

I laugh, despite the dip in my stomach.

"Perfect. It will give me reason to gouge them out. Actually...I don't need a reason."

We laugh all the way to the ballroom.

•••

He doesn't take his eyes off me. He sees me when I am invisible.

He looks at me instead of the queen.

And while the queen does not see me, she sees him. And she sees him seeing me.

No longer am I invisible. No longer can I play pretend that I am a princess. That it is not the King who brushes my hand when I walk by him, but just a handsome prince who wishes to take her away.

He sees me. He stops. He stutters, looks nervous for once. And for some reason I smile. He takes my hand, brushes his fingers along my palm.

"Would you like to dance?" He asks, so softly. A smile answering mine on his full lips.

I let him in. Because it is all pretend, isn't it? In this shiny, luxurious ball room. With thousands of masks covering thousands of faces.

It is all pretend.

That is, until the queen screeches. Watches as he wraps an arm around my waist, and leans in to tell me how beautiful I look. How the dress was as he imagined.

I am pulled away from him by my hair. And I never attempted any magic. I didn't know how to use it.

So I let her, with inhuman strength, slam me into the floor. Crack my lip on the marble. Even as the nobles around laughed, realizing it was only me. Only the daughter of the moon.

And he watched. Angry, but he watched.

I run from the ballroom.

I scream, and tear at the dress. Pulling off layers and pearls and whatever small gems were placed upon it. I want nothing from him.

The King. His kindness brings me punishment. His attentions, help me suffer violence. And he does nothing to stop it. Because he can't.

Every time he pretends he is different from what I expect, I am burned. Because it doesn't last long. He is the King before he is a friend.

Before he is anything else.

And I am nothing.

I make it to my cage. Wanting my prison over this false freedom.

There is a pull on my arm. And I know his touch. It singes and strokes my upper arm. A hand so large it stretches from my elbow to the rest of my forearm. His heat is against my back. He smells as he did when he took me in his arms to dance.

Like smoked wood, like snow. Like an Arctic night. Underlined with a sweetness, one that promised of summer below the ice.

And I hate him.

I hate myself.

I wipe tears away with one hand. He will not see them. He will not wipe them away, and fill my heart with something it shouldn't. Drunk on an emotion that didn't exist.

I turn, and the King startles. Eyes flickering from my reddened ones, the look of malice curling my lips. I step closer to him, so close he has to dip his chin to look at me.

I want to tell him I thought he was better than this. That he was not as evil as I thought. That we could've maybe one day been friends. That I liked dancing with him tonight.

How could he think of me when I was with her, and then not protect me?

He ruined it all.

I scream instead, "You're a coward! A spineless, worthless, terrible, and lying-"

The King's eyes flash dangerously, his mouth hardens into a line, "I would stop if I were you."

I scoff, walking closer. My chest brushes against his broadness, and his eyes darken even more. They narrow, looking from my irises to my angry mouth.

This is the closest we have ever been. I ignore the quick pace of my heart. I ignore how the King's breath is coming out in harsh pants. His pupil's dilate, turning them infinitely black.

"Or what?" I threaten, tilting my head and fixing my stare on his home.

A dare.

He leans forward to test me. His fierce yet chiseled face even more stunning in its rugged elegance up close.

I hate it.

I hate how warm he feels.

How plush his lips look up close.

I hate how it makes me shiver when his nose brushes against mine. Or how the delighted anger in his expression sends a chill down my spine.

"You won't like how I choose to silence you." The man hums out, lowly. A promise, as his teeth glint in the candlelit darkness.

He breaks his promises.

I lift my chin, indignant, "As if I'm scared of you. I fear nothing of a man who talks and talks and does nothing of what he truly wants-"

Warm, impossibly warm lips pressed into my own. Stealing my breath along with my words of vengeance.

My mind left me, as I am pressed against the stone wall of the dungeon. His taller form swallowing mine, a thigh slithering between mine to hold me up. The King's hands cupped my face delicately, a dichotomy to the harsh way he devoured my mouth.

We thrashed against each other, fighting, as words abandoned us. My back scraped into the wall, and I did not care as I arched into his hard body further. His thumbs brush along my jaw, as he traces his tongue across my lips. When I gasp, he enters my mouth with a groan. Inviting all of him in. Tingles drip down my body, as he ravishes me. Tongue tangling with mine, urging pushes and then aching licks, the soft grip on my jaw turning into a harsh grasp in my hair. I am his to mold, his to move as we continue as he kisses the life out of me.

He pulls back, heaving, eyes soft and lips swollen, voice a whisper as he holds me close still, "Sorina."

That's when I wake up.

I reel back, pushing him away from me so I am no longer plastered agains the wall. He stands, dazed. It gives me enough room to slap him in the face.

I gasp at my own reaction, moving away from him. I had always pushed back at him, and finally I had gone too far. His amusement at my insolence would soon turn to rage.

And he would kill me. He'd be forced to.

But there was no trace of anger in the King's eyes. Even as he palms his cheek. Even as his hot eyes flicker back to mine, his lips wet from my own.

A different type of emotion took hold. One that pinned me to my spot, and traced along the skin where my dress did not cover.

The king remains still, his hand now rubs at his mouth. As if I hadn't just risen a hand against him

"I warned you." Then impossibly, he laughs. The sound enough to make my heart stutter again, "That was a strong hit for someone whose lips are soft like a rose."

I ignore him. The way his words blossom within me, taking route. Turning my transgression towards him into something to be admired. I scratch my palm on the ground before he has time to process the movement.

I am back in my cage. Where I belong. Locked away from the man I hated. I hate.

I am stiff as a winter birch. And I hope, goddess I hope, my eyes reveal nothing of what I feel.

"I wish you nothing but suffering and torment."

The King stares at me through the bars. The tension still burning between us, untamed. No, it hadn't left either of us. The feeling only heightened by our initial taste.

He walks closer. I back away.

He sees the movement and stops. His expression unreadable, his lips still deliciously bitten, "I am already suffering. I am already tormented. Because I wish for you to speak again, and you will not. And I will not quiet you the same way again. Not unless you ask it of me, and gods I wish you would. Goodnight, Sorina. Sleep well, I know will not be able to."

And the King was gone.

I let out a breath I had been desperately holding on to. I fall back against the wall, hoping it would cool my blushing body. That it would put out the flames in my heart.

Tonight my icy hell is an inferno.

It is not the cold that bothers me. It is the heat. The heat that simmers in my stomach, my thighs, everywhere it consumes me. At his full mouth, that kissed me like I was treasure.

"Help me, help me!" I scream out. I scream until my tears start.

And it does not get rid of the ache in my thighs.

Silver eyes stare at me from the darkness. Ones similar to mine. My voice a whisper, when I beg.

"Help us, Leila."

********
Leila

Her own screams awoke her.

They filled her room like a cold wind, turning the comforting chamber into her own prison. Hot tears flowed down her cheeks, gasping as she clutched at her bare chest.

Sorina's eyes had met her own. As if she reached through the dream, and into her soul. She clutched onto her night clothes, shivering in her sheets that were now covered in sweat.

Leila didn't even notice when the door to her chamber opened.

Didn't even look up when Taehyung's comforting scent wrapped around her, along with his arms, "Shh, it's okay, I'm here now. Tell me what's wrong?"

Leila coughed, wanting to make a joke and tell him he'd be covered in sweat. But she needed him, and he didn't seem to care about the sight of her or messy state of her bed.

She told him everything. How after reading the poem, she began to have strange dreams. Visions, or memories she believes to be from Sorina. With every occurrence, they became more vivid. More real.

She told him of the warmth of the first dream. How the second and third became more vivid, and how his father seemed to be obsessed with her. How she fought the curse's pull, but they had seemed to be getting closer with every new dream. She even told him how Sorina seemed to fear the Queen above all else. Even though she knew it would likely upset the prince to hear it.

Taehyung nodded, though confusion and something like disappointment settled on his brow. Was he trying to remember the tension between the pair? Since it seemed to be relaying the time before he was born, it was likely he never heard of this part of their story.

Even when she calmed down, he still held her to his chest. Hand brushing through her hair, and scraping gently against her back.

"What does this mean?" Leila muttered, voice shaking.

"Let's wait until you have more dreams to decipher things. We don't have the full story yet. Until we do, it is likely that Sorina's perspective will seem unfamiliar, disjointed. Of course there would be attraction between the two at first. But I'm telling you, what I saw when I got older was-" The words cut off, too painful for him to speak about his past anymore. His voice vibrated in his chest as her cheek rested upon it, "It's possible Sorina blood magic to curse whoever touched the poem first. Or-"

The young woman through herself back, ripping herself from his grasp. Taehyung looked shocked, his hands now holding onto air.

"I'm cursed?!"

The man smiled, then coughed, hiding his amusement from her panicked glare. She slapped his shoulder, which made him fail at hiding it.

"You didn't let me finish Ignis, or she meant to give information to the next daughter of the moon. Valuable information, hidden in her memories. Leila, this is fantastic. Sorina might reveal to us the specifics of the curse, it's origins, everything!"

The princess moved closer again, entranced by his excitement.

But Leila wasn't entirely sure. All that had been verified through the dreams was that their was a connection between the two cursed, that the daughter of the moon's blood was necessary to ingest, and that if Sorina was killed by the King the sun would come back.

"Yeah, it's totally not terrible that I'm seeing the memories of a dead person through the span of a hundred years. That I feel just how cold she was. How alone she felt. How your father disappointed her, even in the early years." Leila's head dropped, as she rested her chin on her knees. Hugging them closer to her body.

The prince sighed, shaking his head. Regret found within the depths as he set a graceful touch along her open shoulder.

"I am deeply sorry. I'm sorry I didn't find it first and carry this burden. You know I would take it from you if I could."

Leila groaned, shaking her head. As if there were more the dream and she just couldn't remember,
"I don't know, I feel like it's supposed to be for me. She, she said my name."

Taehyung had been wrong about the color of their irises being the same. Leila had eyes like moonlight. Sorina had eyes like the side of an icy mountain, ready to avalanche on those that hurt her.

The man's brows furrowed in thought, his face dipping closer to hers as the moon's glow from her open window cast him in shadows. The ocean crashing loudly below them.

His voice was soft, touch comforting, "Don't be afraid. I don't like seeing you like this. Sorina was not one to fear. Not until the end."

But she could see it. The more the prince tried to comfort her, the less he truly new.

He didn't know what to make of it either.

"What if I see it?" Leila asked vaguely, meeting his eyes.

Though it was clear what she meant. The massacre. The many that died the night Sorina lost her sanity.

The man pulled her back into his arms, and Leila gladly nestled into him. His abdomen was hard, but very very warm. Like the glow in her first dream, all encompassing. His hand grazed up and down her back, a finger twisting and playing with her waves.

The prince spoke, lips resting against the top of her head, "I'll be right there, with you through everything. If you have a sense a dream might come, you can stay in my chambers. If you'd like."

Leila laughed, feeling some of the wait lifting off her shoulders. She wasn't alone. Whatever happened, the prince would be their to help her through it. Even if what she learned was dire.

It was enough to bring her humor back, "Is this an attempt to get me in your bed again?"

The warm man scoffed, feigning ignorance, "I do not know. Is it working?"

Leila pulled back with a happy sigh, wishing to see his reaction. Though he seemed to be a bit disgruntled at the fact she moved away from his embrace again.

So grumpy. A spoiled prince, in the most alluring of ways.

She rested back on her bed, making sure to stick out her chest. Watching as it made the desired effect on his line of sight, "I will think about your offer. I have much to consider. My privacy, space, and my virtue are all at risk."

The prince's smile turned devilish as he leaned toward her on the bed, flooding her senses, "Definitely your virtue. If you attempt to touch yourself next to me, I'll have to replace your hand with my own."

Leila pretended his words didn't effect her, even as the blush radiated over every limb at the thought. An ache pooling at her center. She yawned, getting out of bed and far away from the man she would let keep her there for hours.

From his satisfied and hungry expression, it seemed he had the same idea. Dark eyes tracking her as she made it to her wardrobe, pulling out another black dress.

She wanted to be productive.

"Are you busy today?" She asked, ignoring his innuendo as she pulled at the strings of her night gown.

She felt his gaze on her body as the dress dropped. Heard the dip in his voice as he answered, "Not in the ways I'd like to be. But no, I have no princely duties to attend to."

You're not the only one.

Leila quickly placed on the simple, square neck dress. Knowing if she didn't, she might have ended up bare on her bed. Their last endeavor in the carriage a couple days still occupied most of her waking thoughts.

Still, she turned, an easy smile on her face as she met his searing gaze, "Would you like to spend the day with me? Just normally? I planned on reading in the garden, but I could use some company."

Would that bore him? She played with her fingers, watching him carefully. Platonic interactions were easier to gauge. She wasn't sure if Taehyung was interested in enjoying her company without the promise of something else.

She should've known better.

The man's eyes softened, his smile genuine as he responded. A look of serenity and surprise taking over his expression, "I would love to."

They stopped in the library before heading outside, so Taehyung could grab something to read of his own. Leila was already halfway through one of the books he had gotten delivered, this one with more appropriate content.

Leila tried not to skip down the hallway like a child as they walked side by side to the garden. Though they remained apart due to watchful eyes, the little smile that tainted his eyes was enough to make her giddy. And the girl had never felt giddy before.

When they reached the quiet night air that moved lethargically with the death of Winter, the pair were happy to find the garden devoid of any occupants. Mostly.

There was one person moving under the moonlight, gathering one of the plants.

"It's Lily." Commented Taehyung, who sounded slightly frustrated.

As one would sound when speaking of an annoying sibling. Leila bit back her laugh, urging the prince to walk towards her anyways.

Her friend moved quickly, grasping at whatever she was collecting. It was close to the oak tree, but Leila couldn't spot exactly what she sowed. The princess playfully crept closer to the girl, watching her finish up and throw a blanket over the basket she used to hold the plant.

When Leila arrived closer to her, she couldn't hold in her laughter. Lily was somehow skittish despite being a being with enhanced senses. Just imagining her face was enough to send her into a spiral of amusement.

Lily startled at the sound, getting up swiftly with her basket. Her wide brown eyes flickered between Leila and Taehyung wildly, as she rubbed the dirt of her hands onto her skirt.

"Hello Lily, did you-" Leila started, asking if she collected the petals for her favorite tea blend.

But Lily laughed loudly, disjointedly. Interrupting her question as she passed by the pair with her head bent. "I have to go! We'll catch up later tonight." The girl called out, now behind them as she headed back to the castle.

"That was quite odd." Leila commented, extremely confused. Lily never avoided a conversation. She loved the opportunity to talk. She seemed nervous?

Taehyung hummed to agree, eyes still tracking a Lily as she watched behind her back to get into the main doors, "Peculiar indeed."

"I know. She's probably brewing up a love potion for Namjoon. She want to mate with him." Leila said, a knowing smirk on her lips.

Taehyung coughed loudly, choking on air. His eyes widened as he sputtered, Leila laughing as she slapped him on the back. When he finally stopped his dramatic fit, he looked at Leila with questioning eyes.

Leila grimaced, "Oh right. I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Lily was right, you are more protective than her brother."

The word brother came out with more malice than intended. It's been days since their return, and the man had yet to properly apologize. Leila wondered more and more if she was the one in the wrong, considering how she spoke illy of her sisters. He'd just been trying to defend his friend.

Taehyung took a deep breath, shaking his head, "I'm just surprised is all. Namjoon? It makes sense. He's always thought Lily to be wonderful, and he would be a lovely match for her. It's just she's like a little sister to me. Mating and her in the same breath is something I never thought of."

His mouth turns down in what seems like disgust, and Leila can't hold back the laughter anymore. He rolls his eyes, though a smile begins to sprout onto his face. Knowing he was entirely dramatic.

Her amusement sobers when Taehyung leads her to the giant oak tree, using his cloak to spread across the ground so she had a place to sit on without freezing. They sat between the croppings of Lunetta, careful not to trample them.

Leila sat first, her back made cold by the scratching bark of the oak tree. She felt warmer as the man settled beside her, shoulders touching. Leila could see the dimness of chest through his thick clothing, as he attempted to hide he was using some of his magic to keep her warm. She stayed quiet, letting him remain as stoic as he tried to be.

He looked academic, as he placed the giant history book on his lap. He had explained it earlier to be a more in depth view of what happened when the sun first disappeared, and hoped to find more information that would help them decipher the curse. The wrinkle that appeared between his eyes as he opened the thick cover sent a blaze of affection through her. She watched him quietly for a couple minutes out of the corner of her eyes, appreciating how comforting silence between them was. When he bit his pink lips in concentration, she couldn't help the thoughts that raced through her mind.

The book lay forgotten in her lap.

"Speaking of little sisters, is Setareh still sleeping?" She attempted to wipe away the dirty images in her mind so that he didn't see them, apprehension about her sisters health taking over.

Taehyung lifted his gaze easily, not agitated despite her interruption, "Yes, she was bitten by the cold. Hypothermia, the healer called it. She neither possesses your magic, nor our resistance to the weather. She is lucky to be alive."

Anger swarmed her mind. Setareh had only been trying to repay her, and that's how she was treated? An outcast to her own family, her own village. Deep down, she was worried for her sister. She was human, not of magic. And even though Taehyung had strict views on feeding, Setareh had no true way to defend herself. What if she hated the cold? What if she preferred Azita, even still? What if she never adjusted? What if she was murdered like the poor servant girl? Some people here already hated Leila. Having her sister here complicated the situation by a thousand.

Her rage towards Azita, her parents, and Elder Fareena were unfathomable. If Leila paid another visit to them, it would not be civil.

It would be for blood.

"Jimin is still refusing to take accountability for his mistreatment of her?" Leila questioned, her heart half in her anger towards him.

Jeongguk had explained to the prince that when they first found Setareh, Jimin wanted to feed from her. Leave her out in the snow to become a frozen corpse. It was Jeongguk who had questioned it, when realizing that Setareh bared a resemblance to herself, and convinced the man they needed to consult with the prince on how to handle it.

It changed things.

Everything she felt about the advisor was conflicting. Friend or foe, it all felt the same. Their connection had always been tumultuous, but somehow his dislike of her when she first arrived felt more temperate than whatever this was.

"It is merely the hunger." Taehyung reassured, his lips pursing.

He knew Jimin better than anyone. They had grown up together as brothers. But Leila wondered if sometimes Taehyung missed how deadly Jimin's devotion seemed to be. How sometimes Taehyung's use of authority made the advisor's eyes grow dark with disdain.

Was Leila's novice experience with emotions making her paranoid? She was not sure what was normal between friends. But still, the pit that settled in her stomach was growing. Something didn't feel right.

Leila sighed, "Taehyung-"

The prince lifted a hand, brushing some of her long hair behind her ear. She couldn't help but smile at him pitifully, the action feeling as tender as the soft pages beneath her fingers.

"It is merely the hunger, Leila. I'm telling you. I trust him with my life. With everything." Taehyung voice filled with conviction. His eyes spoke what words could not.

Though at times they were at odds, the men were inseparable. A string tied between them they could not sever.

"Do you trust him with mine?" Leila countered, quiet with unease.

The prince stiffened, body language showing his dislike of the question. Leila was not naive. She had gone through every interaction she ever had with Jimin over the past couple of months.

He said he'd wanted her dead. He plotted with her against the prince, for a reason she still did not know. He had made his bite painful, when with Taehyung she had only felt a slight sharpness and mostly pleasure.

All while he'd been a good friend. Someone who was on her side against her own family, the people in court who didn't like her. Who urged her into Taehyung's arms. Who reassured her she was interesting, and would not be numb for the rest of her life. Who oftentimes told her the truth before the prince. Who pushed his attraction to her away after she had told him she wasn't interested, and still continued to be her companion. Who kept his eyes to himself when he acted as her hand maid.

Paranoia. It had to be that.

Just as Leila was about to take back her words,
Taehyung uttered out a sharp, and disgruntled admittance that turned curled his lips, "No. But, it's simply because I don't trust anyone but myself to protect you fully."

Leila rolled her eyes at his envy, "How sweet of you, husband."

The last of her words hung in the air between. She hadn't used the title since before they had become physical with each other. When their connection had grown beyond their marriage for appearance. The swaying of branches serenaded them, as Taehyung continued to stare at her. The use of the feigned title felt different. Charged. More real. The prince seemingly mystified into hopeful stagnation.

Leila dipped her head, not sure of what to make of the expectant silence.

The young woman shut the book, letting her head fall back onto the thick trunk. Looking up into the night sky, and wondering just how many stars had to cross to lead her to him.

"So what do you do when you're not ruling? Or drinking blood or something?" She inquired casually, hoping the soften the tension. Leila pulled at her fingers, a new habit she acquired. A way to calm herself, that she hadn't needed before.

It seemed to work. The man took the opportunity, his soft laugh rumbling and it made her stomach flutter. He moved himself closer, the entire right side of his body now pressed into her own. She shivered, and not because of the chilly night.

"For someone so articulate you are quite blunt when you want to be. But, to be fair, I'm quite boring. When I'm not in a council meeting, hunting, or stressing over my desk I am scouring history books for clues on the curse. Its consumed every waking moment." Taehyung reminded her, exhaustion filling his words.

Leila tsked, "That is dreadfully dull. And I thought my life was bad before."

The prince laughed through his nose, almost a snort. Before he let go of his endless inspection of her face, and finally turned to peer at the night sky with ber, "It was different, before they died."

The words were a punch in her gut, as remorse battered her insides. Right. His parents had been murdered by Sorina. The lives of many people in the court loved and cherished gone, in only one night. And then Taehyung was left alone, ignorant to how to keep his subjects alive and the curse persisting. His young adulthood ripped away from him along with the people he cared about, including the killer herself.

"I am sorry. I speak without thought sometimes." Leila chided herself, cheeks burning as she kept her gaze on the stars.

One thing she didn't like about emotions, was witnessing the prince in pain from her words. She couldn't stomach it. Not when it mattered.

But the prince took it in stride, letting his fingers brush up against her own. A soft acceptance of apology, "It's okay. I'm happy to reminisce with you. Before that night, I had freedom. Privileges most of the world does not have in night. No Tenebrian officials lurking in these parts out of fear, since we are allowed to govern our own land. I loved riding horses, and practicing sword fighting with Jimin. I would often come out to the garden and practice for hours. The two of us, along with Lily, would often swim in the ocean. The cold doesn't affect us, so we'd swim far out."

The man paused in his remembrance, before continuing, "So far the waves would arch over our heads, swallowing us in their foaming mouths. I would collect plants from here, to make tea for the kitchen. To save them in a journal. To see if they had any properties that would help my people with their hunger, or any other issues that might occur. It was fun then. Everything about my rulership, or the curse seemed a thousand years away. Something to deal with in another hundred years, when my father eventually would lose his immortality with age. I was foolish to not see the end."

Leila's curiosity won out over her need to let him know he was not indeed a fool, but a man who lost his loved ones. She didn't want to remind of it so carelessly again.

"But what about me? I was born as a daughter of the moon, I would've still been sent here, more than likely." She questioned, finally brave enough to look upon his face again.

He turned to meet her gaze, the flicker of ember in his eyes softening, "Yes, but with the curse unfulfilled with the previous generation, your soul would not tether properly with mine. There is a ceremony, used to pass on the full curse to you. It also happens to fully unlock your magical capability."

A laugh crept up from her throat, making the man furrow his brows in concern. Probably wondering if she had finally lost it.

She shook her head, "My Latheera. They told me it was just a ceremony to strengthen my magic. Gods, it's like the more I learn of their lies to me, the more it becomes amusing."

The prince brushed his finger across her knuckles again, his lips lifting, "Good. I'd rather see you laugh then cry. Especially for those that hurt you. We can talk about our abilities soon enough, just to make sure we are aware of everything together."

Together.

Leila liked the idea of that. A little too much. She took a deep breath, focusing on what he was telling her again. Looking for any information he deemed unimportant, or just wouldn't realize was out of the ordinary. Something the prince had missed all these years.

"So when Sorina died, the curse didn't pass onto me?"

"It had the potential to pass to you. Due to an ancestor that at one point converged with the moon God. There are several branches, which is why the daughter of the moon appears in different lineages. The date of your birth, your family's prayers and bloodline, and the ceremony, or Latheera as you called it, allowed for its transfer. When my father was killed, it was immediately passed to me, since our specific magic travels entirely through blood."

"Well, at least you know that much." Leila tried to compliment, but it sounded lame even to her ears.

Taehyung playfully nudged her shoulder with his, hiding his shame, "It's not enough. But you're right, it is something."

"What would have happened? If I was sent here without the curse?"

When Taehyung's warmth pulled away from her, his chest dimming, Leila wondered if she said something wrong. She turned to see his face once again turned toward the night sky, a strained look upon his face. Leila was too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know if he would've just followed his father's path.

Too afraid.

But Taehyung spoke, breaking the cold. Running past the moonlight, the infinite unknowns. His voice was deep, wounded as it seeped into the seems of her soul with a wistful longing, "I would have found you beautiful, without a doubt and without the aid of a seductive curse. I would've gently let you know about how you'd been misled by your previous situation. I would've let my father and Sorina worry about the curse. I would have gotten to know you little by little. I would've taken you on walks around the garden, and learned to paint so I could give you the sun. I would've bought you a thousand books. I would have kissed you, all the time. Everywhere. I would have never once touched my fangs to your skin, until it was certain. I would've-"

The prince's voice broke off painfully, as the princesses heart swelled and ached for a time that didn't exist.

That is what bothered him. Not her question. If it had gone as he had originally planned, she would've never been a prisoner or a bride. He had planned to court her, as any royal of a ranking would. She would've been given a choice. And deep down, he would always regret that he had taken that away from her at first.

Things would've been different. He would've taken her into his heart freely, without restraint. With no exceptions. Without fate, deities, and curses looming over them like sadistic puppeteers.

The prince that had already treated her more humanely than he'd ever witnessed, and still wished he could've done more.

The princess was flooded with emotion.

He is more than enough.

Her voice was fevered as she spoke, yearning clearly written in the treble notes, "You can kiss me now."

The prince moved closer to her, dark eyes somehow a beacon in the night. His fingers trembled along her jaw, his breath escaping him, "Not how I want to."

Leila shifted to towards him, holding his hands to her face so he couldn't push her away. Insistent as she wouldn't let him run away from this, "Kiss me how you would've. Show me how we could've been, without everything else in the way. Pretend. Just for a moment."

Her heart beat wildly, and she wasn't sure if it had made any sense. She watched his pupils dilate, his breath quicken as her words called to him. Begged for him. There was a torment in his eyes that she wished would melt away with his painful past.

The prince brushed his thumbs absently against her skin, as he moved down to near her lips. His eyes tracing every lash, every line, and every thought that stayed hidden within the safe confines of her mind.

"Even when it hurts, I cannot deny you." He spoke like a promise, before kissing her.

Like he had warned, it was different.

There was no rush. No haste. No anger, or lust.

Leila felt the brush of him, petals of rose as he embraced her lips with his own. Softly, so softly, he held her in his hands. Leila grasped onto him tightly, grounding herself to the moment. Her long lashes brushed her teeth, and as he let go his sigh tingled along the lips he had just pressed against. It stole her breath more than their faster, aggressive meetings. It spun her head, her mind. An introspective look into the vulnerability that clouded their every interaction, every gesture.

They did not part for long.

He pulled her into his arms, using her face to do so. Gently. So gently. Grasping in a desperation that did not come from desire, but from a deep need. A connection that went beyond of the bounds of a curse, from the will of deities.

When their lips met a second time, his soft caress opened her mouth like a blossom. So sweet, she felt an ache in her jaw like their was honey between their joined embrace. The flesh dancing, saying words they could never say allowed. Every brush, every soft swipe of his lips, his tongue went everywhere in her body. Most of all, it created a hole in her chest that could only be filled by him. His softness, when he was sentimental. It ached. Because every kiss wasn't enough. Each time he started a new, it felt like it wouldn't last. Taehyung sighed into her, a shaky breath. Leila held onto the front of his clothes now, grasping. Holding onto him, fists curled and never wanting to let go.

He kissed her like summer would never come and winter was forced. Like she was breakable, like she didn't hold the power of the moon in her chest. Like he'd never been her enemy. He kissed her like nothing else mattered, but her lips on his. He kissed her how he couldn't, not with the curse looming of their heads and the eyes of the court waiting for him to falter.

The prince kissed her once more before he pulled away, eyes screwed shut as he left them both breathless. Leila couldn't close her eyes. Couldn't look away from him, her hands still tangled in the front of his coat. Her heart beating to a song only they new how to play.

Delam barât tang shode. I miss him already.

The prince was a mess. Not in the way she was used to. She'd seen him riled up, untamed. But this, the longing look he gave her was bursting with reckless abandon.

One they could not survive.

Taehyung was breathless as he spoke, words broken, his hands still holding onto her face. His eyes skating over every part of her once again, settling on the silver of her eyes, "Ignis Lunae. You've never asked me what it means. Ask me now, why I call to you with it."

Leila never thought to ask, because she had begun to assume. It sounded like an older language, Latin. Something to do with fire and the moon. Even if she didn't know the exact translation, having a nickname at all was a blessing. Coming from him, it sent a wave of need through her stomach.

But why?

"I cannot." Her answer was shaky, but finite.

The man relaxed, his hands falling from her face. He stiffened, his chest ceasing to move as his mistakes floated back to the surface. Control sewing together the seems that had ripped. Inch my inch, placed back together and hidden away.

No. Come back.

The words died in her throat. Courage left in the ghost of their "would've" kiss. A kiss from the last brought to the future, when it should've been left to their dreams.

Still she regretted not asking, as he moved away from her once again.

The princess felt tears prick the back of her eyes, as the prince sent her a shaky smile. One meant to reassure her, despite his own grief.

She couldn't know. He couldn't say.

They both selfishly knew that above the curse, they simply wanted more time together. Time they felt would run out if their true feelings would emerge. If I care for you would suddenly beckon the sun from its restful sleep, or his bloodlust would tear her from his arms. They would prolong their fate as long as possible.

Even if everyone else suffered for it.

Because 'I would've', certainly would become 'I will'.

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(A/N: I am obsessed with this chapter !!! Like so obsessed and I know I always so this but it truly is one of my faves because emotionally connecting and "will we won't we we can't" I am a sucker for it.

Also more information and logistics whoop! Hope this clears up some questions you guys had about the curse and all!

Also...miss Lily? Girl what are you up to???!

Wait...why am i kinda obsessed with Sorina and the King...😭🤭 this isn't a hint I'm just feeling toxic rn

Also don't worry if they playlist songs "run out" it was a rough draft to help me with what songs to pick so I am always editing it, and can add more. It will not indicate the end of the story. It's also just NOT in order lol.