Just To Read Fanfictions

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His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed. 

You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance. 

Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit. 

You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.

His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.

You had heard of the king's attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel. 

“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement. 

“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body. 

“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions. 

“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window. 

“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion's den. 

You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists. 

“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.

He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.

He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head. 

His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes. 

“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.

“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.

And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.

It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing. 

“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.

“What?” 

“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.

The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed. 

“Excuse me?”

You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence. 

“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”

Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.

“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.

“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”

“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat's grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body. 

“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.

“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”

The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.

So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.

It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand. 

So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.

“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you. 

“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king. 

“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently. 

“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king's soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”

Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on. 

“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”

“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going. 

You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it. 

“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”

He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged. 

“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”

“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material. 

“And?” 

“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out. 

“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”

A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement. 

“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger. 

“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions. 

“No,” You said without letting your voice waver. 

“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”

You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly. 

Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?

“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”

He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him. 

“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”

“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”

“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”

“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”

“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”

“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”

You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains. 

“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him. 

“And then?”

You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice. 

“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest. 

“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you. 

“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east. 

“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground. 

“And why is that?”

Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again. 

“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt. 

The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity. 

“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”

The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you. 

Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story. 

“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”

And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked. 

---

When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king's face.

They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.

As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom. 

“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”

You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.

“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.

“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.

“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”

---

That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.

They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren't much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body. 

“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king's quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”

You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of. 

“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.

Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.

It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.

“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.

“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.

He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.

“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.

You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.

“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”

He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.

“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.

But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.

You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.

“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.

“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.

“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.

“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement. 

“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers' dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.

“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?” 

His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.

“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”

“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”

You could see how the king's eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused. 

“That's it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.

“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.

You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.

“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on. 

And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.

“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”

---

And so, the cycle continued.

You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.

The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.

You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.

He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.

“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”

Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.

You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.

“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.

“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”

You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.

“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.

Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she'd be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.

“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.

“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.

“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.

“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.

“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”

“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.

“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”

You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.

“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.

“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.

“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”

He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.

“What should you know?” He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.

“I don’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”

“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.

You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.

“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,” 

“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”

You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.

“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world. He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.

You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.

“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.

“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.

“But…” You were worried that he'd be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.

“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.

“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.

You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.

---

When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.

You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.

“Morning,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.

“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.

“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.

You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.

The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.

You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.

“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.

“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.

You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.

“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.

You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.

“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.

“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,'' You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.

“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.

“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.

You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.

“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.

“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.

With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.

A voice in the back of your head already knew where.

“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.

Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.

One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.

An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.

“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.

“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”

It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.

You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.

“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.

Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.

You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.

Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.

“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.

His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.

The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.

His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.

“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.

“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.

---

The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.

Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.

They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king's chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.

The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.

“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”

And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.

It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.

It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.

The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.

“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.

His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.

You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.

Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.

He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.

“I thought I’d lost you,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I lost you forever.” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.

“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king.” You tired for a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.

“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever want to think about it.” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.

He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.

His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.

It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.

“You’re doing amazing,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “You’re so fuckin’ tight - shit - h-haven't you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.

“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.

He’s going to ruin you.

“Well you’re just fucking dripping.” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.

“You’re so sweet azizam, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbing on you.” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.

“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.

His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.

“Hmm, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.

More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.

He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.

“I’m not done yet azizam,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”

---

You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.

Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.

Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.

He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.

“I was already awake,” He muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty even when you sleep.” He admitted and you duked your head deeper into his chest at his words.

“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.

“Satoru,” He muttered, “Don’t call me king.” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.

“Alright, Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.

“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”

Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.

While everyone succumbs to a paradigm, that soulmarked people are irrevocably tied to one person, they are neglecting to consider alternatives. This consensus is harming the growth of Academia, and stunting further discoveries. Conducting further research on the phenomenon of soulmates is near impossible, because participation is scarce, as soulmarked people are very complacent, willing to take a backseat in their own future. I, as a soulmarked person, refuse to believe that some supreme deity is more aware of my own preferences and needs than I. In time, I shall prove that, and rewrite the way people view soulmates as we know it. 

-Alhaitham

-----------------

Alhaitham sighed as he trudged through the house of Daena, eyes searching for the book that he had been trying to borrow for the past few weeks. Not that he needed it, his grande personal collection spoke otherwise, but he had already gone through everything, his books more creased and spines wrinkled as evidence of his excessive care. He wished to borrow something new. Now if only the book didn’t seem to surge in popularity. 

His eyes landed on the book, long legs striding to it with purpose, it was to be his for the two weeks duration, until a hand reached for it at the same time. 

A spark ignited between your outstretched hands, however he didn’t feel repelled, rather the sensation seemed to send a comforting warmth to his heart that signalled safety to him. 

This moment would become engraved in his memory, when his teal eyes landed on yours for the first time, he’d never cared to describe people’s physical appearances beyond what would be convenient to him, but yours seemed to be an endless pit of water that he could drown in. 

Alhaitham staggered back a step, eyes panicked as his eyes searched for your wrist, heart sinking in dread as he saw the matching mark, now pulsing as it found its match. You appeared shocked as you took in this new found development, but by contrast, your lips curved up into a shy smile that he refused to admit was kind of beautiful. 

“Oh my god” 

You stepped forward, eyes curving down to look to his wrist and your smile blossomed even more as you confirmed it. Your happiness was however abruptly cut as he shoved his hand inside his pocket, moving past you to grab the book you two were previously gunning for. 

“Well, I’ll be taking this.” he said, leaving you standing there. He wondered what you looked like standing there alone, in the house of Daena, seeing the owner of the mark matching yours dismissing you. It was quite unheard of, soulmates were usually quite eager, and the first meetings were always recounted as something magical. He wasn’t eager to join the herd though. This is how it was meant to be, two souls parting at the bypass, because he was not obligated to pivot his direction to match yours. 

A thought struck him, his dread transforming to excitement. Soulmate studies had always steered clear of a certain direction, the road always seeming to carry an invisible hazardous warning that discouraged even the most willful scholars. Perhaps one is all it takes to finally discard the sign, ditched like an unseasonal winter coat on a summery day. One person who could prove that he is not willing to give in to the will of the Gods. 

He looked at the mark on his wrist, no longer pulsing, his face impassive, stony, not betraying his inner dilemma. Possibilities flashed before his eyes, calculations, uncertainties. He shoved his wrist back in his pocket, the eyesore taunting him with its vibrant hue, marked on his skin like an inevitable reality.

----------------

That night, Alhaitham had a vivid dream, one he could recall with disturbing detail. 

You and Alhaitham sat underneath the shade, Sumeru roses surrounded the two of you as he hugged you closer to his chest, his rose close enough to your hair that he could breath in your comforting scent while birds chirped, the flowers rustled, and your pages turned while the sun ordained you with it’s warmth. He wasn’t sure for a moment whether the source of the light was you or the sun. He didn’t care. He sighed, one out of comfort rather than fatigue or exacerbation, and you felt it tickling your neck. 

You turned to look at him, smile blinding even as his lips remained in a thin line. You said something, but all his senses centred around his sight, and it was laser focused on your kissable lips. You pouted slightly, before leaning forward and granting him his silent wish. 

As your lips touched his, his fake reality collapsed and he opened his eyes to the fuzzy shape of his room, disoriented at the delusion he had been sucked into. What prompted this dream? A curious question, one he didn’t have a silent clue how to begin answering. He breathed out, swiping his hair back, eyes glancing at the burgeoning morning sky. He wasted hours out of his rest dreaming about you. He’d rather not have dreamt at all. 

He tried to make sense of what had occurred. Meeting you had most likely been the trigger for this dream, but he would need to conduct further analysis.  

Most of Sumeru didn’t dream. Except for soulmarked people, they sometimes dreamt as they were deemed to be closer to deities. This idea was something Alhaitham didn’t buy into, but that’s only one more reason to carry on with this study that he dedicated himself to. Why would he dream of such a warm scene with you when he rejected you with his entire being?

---------------

Alhaitham’s theory, one he nurtured with the pride of a scholar, was that soulmarked people didn’t need their soulmates.

 It’s quite belittling, in his opinion, for one to base their future and value on whether or not they had a mark, and to abandon their individuality based on a mark. Alhaitham had never felt like half of a whole, he had never felt like his cup was half empty, and he frankly didn’t feel lacking. Your presence was thus simply unnecessary. He didn’t desire it, nor need it. 

You were however quite insistent on inserting yourself into his life. 

“As I previously informed you, your presence is quite unneeded. In fact it’s bothersome, can you sit somewhere else?” Alhaitham could not believe that even his favourite spot in his favourite cafe is now being invaded by you. You’re like an invasive species. 

“No, this spot gets the most sunlight. I can’t let you hog it, but I would be willing to offer you a drink as an apology for the huge inconvenience.”

Alhaitham gave you a brief glance, eyes looking to your face for a second, scrutinising you. Your content expression made him swiftly face his book once more. He tried making sense of your move, were you not offended? Did you have no pride? 

When Alhaitham made his stance to you clear, you were too disoriented to rebuttal. What he declared to you was quite unheard of, so he isn’t too surprised. You flashed him a saddened look, not quite heart broken though, and not too discouraged it seemed. You had been pestering him since. 

He surmised now that this was your way of trying to get to know him, accepting a drink means that he forgives you for intruding on his space, and he doesn’t. 

“I don’t want to give you another excuse to stay.” 

“I was never planning to leave Alhaitham. I already have every excuse to stay. Sunshine and a good view.” you said shamelessly, eyes raking his figure.  Alhaitham didn’t look up from his book this time but he could bet that you were looking at your nails nonchalantly. He even found the way you said his name strange, the way you pronounced it was interesting, and he was almost tempted to ask you to say it again just so he could pinpoint the intonations a little more. 

“Such as?” 

Alhaitham didn’t hear you speak for a few seconds, but he paused his reading and looked you in the eye, deadpan and serious. 

“I understand where you’re coming from. You believe being with me would be like, giving in, or something. That you accept that you are somewhat deficient and you need something to fill the gap in you.” you paused then, letting your words sink in with him, he couldn’t hide the way his poker face broke for a second. He certainly wasn’t expecting something insightful right this moment, and perhaps a tiny part of him felt touched that you weren’t undermining his thoughts as people had. 

“But that’s not how I see it, I don’t see you as a person who needs me to complete him. The bond is simply the notion that we complement each other. We are a pair, Alhaitham. You cannot escape it, but being a pair doesn’t mean that we are broken halves of a whole. I wouldn’t be able to be with someone so lacking and neither would you.” 

He let your explanation sink in, disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach. 

“You are overlooking very important variables. It takes so many different factors to shape a person, how could anyone be certain with so many uncontrolled variables that the person will then grow to be their most complementary partner? Maybe my upbringing shaped me in a way that is simply not suitable to you. Maybe there is someone out there that suits you more. But you are letting a mark decide your future, how predictable.” came his reply, scathing, upfront. You seemed to contemplate his words for a few seconds, before slowly nodding. 

“I see, but I will still believe in us. Just as deity’s watch over us and grant us visions, perhaps they are also aware of what our future holds and I will believe in their benevolence in pairing people-” he saw you fidget, saw your eyes avoid his penetrating gaze for two seconds before you resumed, once again resolute “-and just as you are unwavering in your beliefs, I will be unwavering in trying to prove to you that you and me belong together.” 

If Alhaitham was a more emotionally impressionable man, he might’ve described his feelings in this moment as butterflies as you proudly proclaimed your intentions. He isn’t however, and he decided it’s rather an annoyance having you here. 

He went back to his book, deciding this conversation to be over.

--------------

Entry 4, date xx 

It’s unfortunate yet understandable that research guidelines forbid me from using my own personal experience in my research. It won’t deter me from writing these entries, detailing my experience, so that someone in the future picking up this kind of research may have at least one detailed example. It’s hard to find people who do not conform to the standard of being with their soulmates upon discovering them, even if it means divorce, relocation etc. This makes academic studies that challenge the status quo quite difficult. In time, I do believe that people will move to treating soulmarks with more lukewarm expectations. 

My ‘soulmate’, a fellow researcher at the Akademiya, takes a stance quite oppositional to mine. Time did not deter her from pursuing me, nor her endless attempts at gaining my favour. It’s been a hassle, only made me wish I’d been born markless even more. 

Some of her attempts included, but were not limited to

Buying me things. Such as a coffee (one of my more favoured drinks) when I’d fall asleep in the library, and resisting the temptation of consuming the beverage in my disoriented state was quite difficult, and wasteful. Consuming it does not therefore warrant any form of affection. Although it is peculiar that she always managed to find me at my most vulnerable.

Dispelling rumours about me. Quite useless, as I never cared what people said or thought of me, she was better off focusing on her pressing research. This asserts that soulmates are not more suited to each other than any average pair on the street, as assuming we have this telepathic connection would mean that people finding me unapproachable is rather helpful for me. Needless to say this method of hers was the least useful. 

Always talking to me. Though her tactics changed over the years. She no longer makes small talk, or attempts to change my mind. She now attempts to use my hobbies to make my brain associate her with my interests. She brings up books that I’d borrowed, sparks a discussion on them that would leave me no choice but to respond to her avid attempts at dialogue. She impressively did seem to digest the contents of the books quite well, and my enthusiasm when conversing about say, “How Language is a Tool of Policing”, does not equate to my favour. 

Buying me books.

This list seems to be getting needlessly long, and upon further thought it’s rather useless, so I will deign to stop.

-----------------

A group of scholars trekked along the Avidiya forest, mostly Amurta students, so it’s no wonder you are there. Alhaitham is one of the few odd ones out, but considering his penchant for knowledge and innate curiosity, it's no wonder he’s there. Reading about different biological life forms in the rainforest is useful enough, but seeing with his own two eyes is a must. A few samples to test certain herbal effects would also be quite beneficial. 

He looked around, taking in his surroundings. Green eyes took in the scenery, beautiful mosses and grandiose trees, aged and chipped and hanging a shadow over them, so massive that the humans beneath it looked to be of no special significance. 

His eyes inadvertently landed on you. You were bundled closely to another Amurta student, one with fennec fox features. His shoulders were touching yours as his eyes drank up the papers in your hands with curiosity, and you didn’t seem to mind as you smiled and pointed at certain parts, talking animatedly. 

Alhaitham curled up a grey eyebrow at the way the guy’s tail seemed one step away from wagging, what an inconvenient appendage to have. 

He showed his notes to you, pointing at different places in the forest and pointing back to his notes, talking excitedly. You nodded, adding an input here and there, this discussion of yours seems very interesting. Perhaps he should move closer to hear what you and the star of Amurta seem to be discussing with so much excitement.

Alhaitham, who was previously intentionally lagging behind the group, with several steps was within a hearing distance between you and Tighnari. However, he was irked to know that he could hear nothing because you two, although animated, were speaking in hushed tones as if disclosing a secret in broad daylight. 

With carefully measured steps, he weaved himself even closer, but not close enough to arouse suspicion. From this angle, he could see the way the so called star of Amurta’s long conspicuous ears pricked in your direction, unwilling to miss a single word out of your mouth. 

“You’re so lucky Tighnari, Amurta is very lucky to have someone with your constitution, but trying out different mushrooms seems quite fun” you said, starry eyed at the so called Tighnari, all over some mushrooms? Alhaitham knows a lot about rainforest mushrooms, as any scholar should. Maybe the standards for Amurta Darshan are just lower these days. 

“Well you’re in luck, I found a way to minimise the effects of the mushrooms by taking a small sample and boiling it, so if you’re quite interested you can come around to my place so we can test different mushrooms together.” Tighnari said, tone bordering on gloating as he seemed quite prideful in his discovery. 

To Alhaitham’s chagrin, you nodded with child-like excitement, have you taken leave of your senses? This endeavour seems so dangerous and yet you’ve agreed to it without a second thought to your safety, or perhaps there’s another reason for your excitement. 

Alhaitham can imagine it perfectly. You’d look at Tighnari with glassy eyes, flushed appearance, softly panting as you declare that the mushrooms seem especially potent-

No. 

Time spent daydreaming is time wasted, and this same logic applies to thoughts of you. What you get up to is none of his concern, and who you get up to it with as well. He’s not with you in sickness or health, so he cares not if you possess either. 

Alhaitham is despondent at the fact that one cannot tread the rainforest while reading a book. It’s naturally a recipe for disaster, as he might trip and fall and damage his book in an act of foolishness. It’s regrettable however, as your own foolishness has rendered him unable to fully take in his surroundings. 

The group is taken to the camp as the sun bids adieu and the moon illuminates the rainforest in a faint light, making the shadows appear much more ominous as they towered and arched over the students. 

Alhaitham pulled out his book, fully intending to consume his meal with the company of the pages in his hands, but you had other ideas, seeming to finally remember your mission of pestering him whenever you are in his presence. 

“So, how did you find today’s trip?” always starting out with meaningless small talk, perhaps you are hoping he will one day humour you. 

“It’s been great till now.” clipped and curt, as usual. 

“Did you find it informative? It’s been great seeing so many different rainforest life forms. Maybe I should work for a few months here after finishing my thesis, if only to get more acquainted with the life forms. But I won’t do that before I sort things out.” you kept your words vague, but Alhaitham could sense the meaning hidden beneath them. You won’t move until you make this soulmate dream of yours a reality. He’s been rejecting you, and here you are making life plans around him, trying carefully to make him fit in with your plans. Planning the course of your life around him.

Choosing to conceal the reality of his day, he replies with an affirmative hum. You got the memo, choosing to open your packed food and eat, most likely busy with your own thoughts, while Alhaitham entertains his own. 

------------

Entry 90, date xx. 

This might prove to be a complete coincidence, and I’m confused as to why it’s occurring myself, despite my investigations and various attempts at isolating and looking at different variables. 

In the years I have known who my soulmate is, I have been dreaming. Eerily, my dreams usually concern her in one way or the other, so it must be something related to our bond. In my last dream, I can vaguely remember a warm feeling in my belly, as ambiguous as that sounds. I laid my head on her lap, reading, while she soothingly caressed my hair. Disappointingly, I do not recall the contents of the book, only the warm caress of her fingers that lulled me into a feeling of comfort. 

The feelings of my dreams however, I am certain, do not carry on into my daylight hours. 

Maybe I must admit I am somewhat impressed by her tenacity and persistence, perhaps that feeling is causing my subconscious to confuse the nature of our relationship?

-----------------

Alhaitham is tired of whatever farce you are trying to play. 

You are like a migraine to him, your arrival always a nuisance, a pain, and wholly unwelcome. You do not respect his choices, opinions. Your existence frustrates him, and he cares not that you always take great care not to cause him trouble. Your actions, while deceptively helpful, greatly annoy the scribe. 

This year, his attempts at dissuading you have gotten rather harsh. This is because he can no longer afford you indifference. This can be traced back to when you left a cake on his desk. Congratulating him on his new role as scribe. The flavour was not overly sweet, it’s something he would usually enjoy consuming, but the feelings borne within his chest at the sentimental message written on the cake caused him to pause. The moths swarming his belly did not make sense, his response did not make sense. The cogs that always efficiently turned in his head seemed to clog at the thought of you. 

An uncharacteristic rage blinded him that day, he did not feel this way in his life before, and when he sat reflecting on his now emptier desk after harshly dumping the cake in the bin facing his office, he thought that the new found nuisance in his life is more troublesome than he previously predicted. 

One day, a golden opportunity seemed to land on his lap. A one in a million lucky chance. Though Alhaitham thinks a lucky chance is only one if you can reap the benefits it brings you. 

It was a pleasant night, the air, while warm, was comfortable as cooler wind blew inside the tavern and ruffled his hair slightly. He was drinking alone, a choice he made as the comfort of his own thoughts was something he needed. He’d be able to ruminate in peace, had the cause of his irritation not found him once again. 

“Oh my, hi Alhaitham. We keep running into each other, it’s almost like fate huh” you greeted, plopping yourself beside him, calling to the bartender to pass you a drink too, signalling the start of Alhaitham’s misfortune. So nonchalantly confident, your head always held up high around him, as if his attitude towards you is a mere playing hard to get. 

He opened his lips, a scathing reply at the tip of them, until another irritation called out his name jarringly. 

He turned his head, as several others did before minding their own business after briefly casting them curious looks. 

“Soo this is where you spend your time! You could have invited me, you know.” some women from the Akademiya sat to his left, batting her lashes at him in what he assumes is her way of being coy and attractive. 

He was halfway into finishing his drink. It’s a shame he’ll have to retire early as his night no longer holds the promise of peace. However, upon seeing you casting them a curious look, silent for once in your life, he got a much more brilliant idea. 

It takes a genius to turn a stroke of misfortune into a lucky chance. 

Although having never indulged in this sort of useless and amateurish behaviour, likening it to some sort of primitive mating call, Alhaitham is adaptable and a great actor when it comes to securing his own peace. 

“Sorry honey, I’ve been somewhat preoccupied. Surely I can make it up to you” he feigned a cordial look, eyes raking through her figure. She’s not really his type. Her lap didn’t seem comfortable to lay his head on, and even the shape of her fingernails seemed to turn him off. Coincidently, some of your physical features are rather favourable to him, especially the shade of your eyes. Her voice also sounds grating, and he wished she'd never say his name again. But he put up with it, and even went as far is to brush his hand on her upper thigh, his implications clear.

His reply took you and her by surprise, shocked faces at the tone no one heard from the blunt scribe before, but her shock quickly morphed to glee. 

“Of course! I’m not one to hold grudges” she scooted closer to him, and he quickly wondered if this was worth it, or a detour into wasting even more of his time, especially as her hands reached out and touched his shoulder, rendering him wordless with the awkwardness of having to tolerate her invasive touches.

He glanced at you, and your frozen made you look stuck in your spot, in disbelief, surely it’s not preposterous that he might pursue someone else? His lips willfully thinned though, when he saw how your previously frozen eyes melted into a volcano, rage swimmed within them, as your brows scrunched disapprovingly. He’d never seen you look like this, even when he threw all your attempts back in your face all those years. He’d never seen you look like you wished the ground would open and swallow him, and his gut twisted uncomfortably at the thought. 

Perhaps this was all it really took to have you leave him be. He wondered why he never took this approach before. 

He cast furtive glances at the other women speaking, unwilling to break this facade now, but he found that the air after you left seemed much more cold. 

“You can stop bothering me now. Whatever you think could happen between us isn’t going to, but it was amusing seeing you gullible you could be.” he spoke while nursing another drink, his eyes not even meeting hers, though she might find this to be in her benefit. Although his clipped words were missing their usual edge, it still had the desired effect. 

“You jerk, do you think you’re too good for me? I was willing to tolerate your dry personality because you had a pretty face, but your head is bigger than I thought. Bring yourself down to earth, at this rate you’re going to die alone and miserable as you always have been.” 

People’s words never bothered him, and even now they do not. He chooses to live his life the way he chooses, and people’s opinions will never change his pursuit of personal peace. However, he found it interesting that one rejection from him caused her to spout so much venom at him, when years of him doing that to you didn’t have this effect. Is it that you’re patient? Level headed? Kind? Well, more like hopelessly foolish.

---------------

Entry 1023, date xx

For the past month, I haven’t seen much of her. It seems that before, she went out of her way to run into me. Ever since the night at the tavern, her pursuit seemed to end completely. This is what I wanted for years, isn’t it? I have finally achieved the desired results. 

I am still as whole as the day I was born, I don’t feel lacking. I am fine.

-----------

Alhaitham finished up writing the latest entry, closing the journal and putting it inside his drawer. As he stretched, he caught sight of his face. 

His facial hair seems to be growing out, painting his face in a five o’clock shadow. He stroked the coarseness, wondering why he’d missed his usual schedule of trimming. 

He shook the creeping thoughts away, approaching his bed to finally get a much needed rest. He needs to clear the pesky thoughts away, so that he may finally enjoy the books he’s been meaning to read. You’d probably have something insightful to say about them, you usually seemed to. 

Curses, why must his own brain betray him? 

Sleep, when it finally came, was not peaceful. 

He was frantically opening every door in his house, searching for something. Opening doors, searching, repeating.

The violent cycle went on, his heart falling every time his mysterious search reaped nothing. 

He shook awake, panting so loudly that he wondered briefly whether he performed a strenuous exercise in his sleep, if the erratic thumping of his heart was any clue. It banged painfully against his ribs. His hair clung to his forehead, and his face felt suspiciously wet. He needs to calm down, so that he may analyse the cause of his restless sleep and eliminate it. But his brain stubbornly shut down, and Alhaitham's throat traitorously clogged up. 

Deep breath. A  response like this might not be any cause for alarm. Deep breath. Emotional hysterics will solve nothing. Deep breath.

Why do the walls feel like they are closing in on him?

-------------------

It’s been 4 months and 6 days since Alhaitham saw you. Or heard from you. 

This period is incredibly unusual, you never went so long without speaking to him. Is the thought of him pursuing another woman truly all it took to throw you off? Perhaps he gave your persistence undeserving credit. He wishes he could hear your thoughts, stumble into a journal of yours. If only to see whether his hypothesis proved right, that once you realised this you too came to your senses and realised you could lead a happy life without him. 

His inability to know filled him with bitterness, yet why is he feeling such when he prided himself on only speculating things of importance? His frustration made him gnaw on his lips. 

“I do think they look good together, she should take her chance with him” 

Dimwits gossiping in the library might be the last straw, why is it that people can’t save their idle chatter for a more appropriate place?

“Yeah, but doesn’t (y/n) have a soulmark? This could end disastrously.”

What?

“Yeah but, it’s quite rare for soulmates to find each other nowadays, she shouldn’t waste her chance because of something that might never be.” 

Who? And when did this happen?

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Alhaitham’s brain, if possible, might melt. An overload of thoughts, information, noises, all overstimulating him. But if he thought hard enough, it’s quite clear that this is another tactic of yours. You’ve gotten quite clever. It cannot be a mere coincidence that this gossip found its way to his ears, you must be trying to ignite some irrational feeling within him, jealousy. 

Too bad he’ll never give you the satisfaction of seeing him this way. 

He closed his book, a mere decoration at this point, and walked out of the library, thinking a walk would help clear his head. 

“Yeah, he seems quite taken by her, I think he is seriously courting her.”

No matter what hallway he’s in, what direction he pivots to, the building of the Akademiya itself seems to be buzzing with talks of you and some guy. You’ve put a lot of effort into this farce of yours, did you take in the consequences? When this blows over, your dignity as a scholar would surely never recover. You’d be known as a gossipmonger. 

Days have passed however, and the talk showed no sign of stopping. You and a wealthy sponsor of the Akademiya, who hails from Fontaine. He’d fallen in love with you, is courting you, and everything trivial inbetween. When did you even have time to catch the eye of someone so apparently important? It’s implausible, and incredibly petty. 

Why are you nowhere to be found now? 

--------------

Statistically, Alhaitham knows that it’s impossible not to have run into you by now. Unless you have been going out of your way to avoid him. He even changed his usual seating spot in the library, thinking that maybe he’d find you away from his corner. He’s been roaming in the city the past month more than he had in a year. 

The worst thing is that he didn’t understand why he was going so far to find you. It defied logic itself, his persistence. It’s none of his business what you do, so he should give up while he’s at it. Come back to his senses, and live out his peace. 

You seemed to haunt him though, and as his tired teal eyes roamed the cafe on his way once more, fate seemed to drop him a little trinket. 

He squinted his eyes, seeing the familiarly patterned, maroon scarf that you always wore when it got a bit chilly. He rushed inside the cafe, eyes zeroed on it. Before looking outside once more in search of your figure. He’d probably just missed you. 

The rational choice would be to hand over the scarf to the workers, you’d probably come in search of it, but before rationale could halt him, he took the scarf and left, but not before catching a whiff of your familiar scent. 

This would give him a reasonable excuse to talk to you, you can’t refuse an act of goodwill from him right? He thought back, trying to find a single moment in which he’d done you a favour and not the reverse. 

His stomach sank as he realised that he’d in fact never done a single act of goodwill towards you, he’d spared you nothing but harsh words of rejection and belittlement. 

Perhaps this is why he’s been searching for you, to try and ease this feeling of guilt that hasn’t left him since you completely erased your existence out of his life. You’d made home in every corner of his life, trying to make it a little more bearable. You were a sacrifice to his philosophy, it couldn’t be any other way, because Alhaitham is equally stubborn, he’d never give in to the will of someone else who’s ordained how he must live his life. 

But for now, he’ll take this scarf home, knowing deep down that he doesn’t intend to return it. 

-------------

Alhaitham sat on the couch near his bed, watching perplexed as you made out with a clone of him. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, beautiful, naked body straddling him, as if you were trying to become one with him, merge your being with his so that he may never try and discard you. Your lips moulded with his own, and he’d returned the favour with equal fervour. 

Only, his grey hair began darkening from the roots down, becoming a pitch black colour. You pulled away, and he watched horrified as his clone’s face melted like clay, only to be reconstructed as the face of a stranger. You however appeared indifferent, eyes soulless and lacking the tenacity you seemed to possess earlier. 

He stood up to try and take you away, but an invisible force pulled him back, leaving him only to thrash while a stranger held you, and you let him. 

You let the stranger cradle your body, indifference melting into a bittersweet smile as your lips found his. 

Alhaitham’s eyes stung, and he tried closing them to shield himself from the sight as you let a stranger make love to you, but he couldn’t. His eyes were made to be peeled wide upon as he watched and heard you, and his wrist burned, heart ached. But through it all, he’d only wished that you’d stop and look at him again. 

But you didn’t, your eyes didn’t leave the stranger's body, not until they rolled back in ecstasy while you used his body for your pleasure. The strangers hands caressed you, and strummed your pleasure to a tune that only produced the most melodious sounds out of you. 

Tears started falling down his cheeks. But he still couldn’t close his eyes. 

Alhaitham opened his eyes, feeling like a dam had broken on his pillow as the moistness in his eyes blurred his vision. 

He rubbed his tears away, but they wouldn’t stop, not for as long as he remembered his nightmare. You, so close, making love to someone else while he was forced to watch and hear. 

Why did he have to be tormented even in dreams? 

His heart hammered away so loudly that it felt like drums to his ears, his lungs refused to operate as an unbearable feeling of pain overwhelmed him. He pulled his knees to his chest as he willed his shivering to stop, the moon staring mercilessly at him as he rocked back and forth. 

He suddenly remembered a find of his, and with a blurry vision he fished out your scarf, holding it up to his nose to breathe in the scent he’d been denied. He rubbed away his tears, not wanting to stain your scarf with it, and like something beyond reason his tears had stopped. 

His sleep was dreamless after that. 

-------------

Entry 1800, date xx 

Dreams have been tormenting my nights, and reality torments my day. Why does it feel like I’m being continuously punished? Were my ideas so cardinally sinful that the deity’s above have taken to cause me misery? 

I have once again devolved to foolish thoughts. It’s my thoughts that torment me, not any higher power. 

If she’s anything to go by, then I guess my hypothesis has been proven correct. She no longer seeks me out, hasn’t done so in 8 months. When I catch a glimpse of her, it’s so brief it’s almost like a phantom. I do hear of her though, that she’s happy with another man. That they might move back to Fontaine together at this rate, that this might not be fling. She’d succeeded in something no one has succeeded at before her. She left her soulmate behind and pursued her own path. I was never needed.

The idea that she might move to Fontaine is rather far fetched though, as she is still a researcher, and this is but only one relationship. Moving to a completely new homeland to pursue such a fresh relationship is completely spontaneous and irresponsible. Especially considering she would need to abandon many of her projects. 

They will most likely break up, they might not, only time will tell. But for the time being, she seems to have moved on.

-----------

Alhaitham’s haggard figure trekked through the Sumeru, eyes a dull green that looked sombre as he glanced through the stalls. Malnutrition is the most likely cause of the way he’s had no energy lately, even his bones seemed to ache in protest. 

With a fresh bag of groceries in hand, Alhaitham walked back home, eyes downcast and somewhat soulless. He needs to cook today, needs to eat something and get on with his life. He needs to. 

With his downcast eyes and general disinterest, he almost missed the crowd of awed bystanders forming a ring around two people. With one furtive glance, he deemed it not worth his time, until he caught sight of the second star of the show. 

It’s you. Standing there. It’s finally you. Light seemed to come back to his eyes, if only for a brief second before horror overtook them. 

It’s you, standing there, with a man kneeling on the floor proposing to you. A crowd of people all around you two, smiling, anticipating, gasping. 

It’s you, nodding your head as another man puts a ring on your finger, his pitch dark hair and features nothing like Alhaitham, with one look Alhaitham can surmise that he’s everything Alhaitham could never be. His smiling face charms everyone in sight, he’s like a star that everyone wants to be near to bask in his aura. 

Alhaitham doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe such a raw feeling with medical terms, but if he can be sentimental, he might be able to say that his soul hurts.

------------

Dear (y/n), 

The Akademiya is currently lacking in capable personnel, and as the scribe I had been entrusted with alleviating this issue using records of capable individuals. You had many great works under your belt, and I understand that our personal matters might’ve driven you away to Fontaine, but I find it rather immature that you’d go so far and abandon your responsibilities to pursue a relationship. 

Please consider coming back, as the Akademiya is willing to offer you a new position that you might find to be to your liking, the job benefits are numerous such as a large residence in Sumeru and a very high salary with many days of paid leave. Please contact me for more information. 

Alhaitham 

-----------------

 Dear (y/n), 

I have received your letter of rejection. 

Perhaps the salary wasn’t to your liking? The Akademiya is willing to double it, all your research projects will be fully funded and approved and you may pick up where you left off without any hassle. Any additional requirements could be negotiated, it would surely not be ideal to disregard such a promising career and job title in the Darshan you have dedicated years to. 

I apologise for any harsh words I have previously said to you, sometimes, well, most times my pride gets the best of me and I end up hurting people with my words. I would like to say that I never meant to hurt you, but at the time I did and I do feel quite regretful. Our personal matters should never be a reason for you to reject such a great offer. I understand that you are in a committed relationship, but you shouldn’t be discouraged to pursue other paths so early on in your life. 

Alhaitham

--------------

Dear (y/n), 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I would apologise for every second I disregarded you if it means you might come back. I would give you anything. I’m sorry I didn’t before, and that it took me so long. 

I’m pathetic, foolish, unworthy, and every derogatory term on this earth. But I also love you. I’m sorry it took having nothing of you in my life but a scarf you’d forgotten to realise that I love you.

When I sit in the corner of the library, I always save a seat next to me, hoping by some miracle you’d show up again. That you’d sit there again, laughing, smiling at me like you’d sucked all the warmth out of the sun, and this time I’d smile at you back until my cheeks hurt because you have come to mean happiness to me. 

I’ve loved you for every single year I’d known you, and for every single season, there was no one ever but you. Please believe me, I’d never pursued any relationships, it was only ever you that occupied my heart and thoughts. That woman you saw at the tavern wasn’t someone I was seeing, and I rejected her after, even if this meagre show of loyalty is too little too late. I was a fool that day, I was angry at my feelings, at the way my heart and brain were in complete incoordination that I took her advances to try and hurt you. I didn’t even touch her, she meant nothing to me, I wish I didn’t show up to the tavern that day so then maybe you’d still be in my life. 

Nothing fills the vacuum you left behind, my heart. I cried so much the day you left that it felt like I’d never stop crying. 

I tried to deny something so wonderful, and when my wish was granted I declared that I want you back. You must think I’m the most selfish man you’ve ever known. I might be. I’m sorry I rejected you and denied my feelings for so long, but please, will you come back and return the colour to my life? I will never take you for granted again. 

Please come back, I’m begging you. 

Alhaitham

-------------

Alhaitham walked around the labyrinth, nothing but the moonlight guiding him on his quest to find you. He’s frantic, rushing around from one dead end to another. 

And then he finds you, laying there, in the centre, bushes and greenery enveloping you, and you seemed happy to see him, because your cheeks quirked up and eyes crinkled in a smile that he’d been deprived of for long enough to realise it’s as essential as oxygen to him. 

He ran to you, breaking you free of your binds, enveloping you in his arms before kissing your lips in reverence as if he worships you. He kisses you, not stopping until he realises that you aren’t responding, and that you’ve gone cold in his arms.

-----------------

Alhaitham stared at the piling documents in front of him, eyes bloodshot and blurry. He’s glad that no one usually approaches him, for he must look like he squabble with the grim reaper last night. 

He sighed, hand going to his chest, rubbing it in a vain attempt to soothe the ache there. You didn’t reply to any of his letters. Why would you? He’s truly a piece of work to attempt to contact you after all he’s done to you over the years. 

He doesn’t know how long he can go on like this, but he knows for certain that he’s become the villain of his own story. His hubris and pride have pulled him down to a hell that he lives in everyday. He mocked soul mates all his life for travelling for miles to be together, for quitting jobs, getting divorced, all for a fated person. Alhaitham cannot look down on them any more, because if you don’t respond to him soon he will run to Fontaine and grovel until you spare him a single glance, and then he will finally feel like he’s found his Oasis after being stuck in a never ending desert. 

It feels like a knife stabbing his chest whenever he thinks of you in another land, married to another man, loving him and being loved by him in a way Alhaitham will never experience. But he brought this on himself, how can he blame you? He drove you into someone else’s arms. 

He touched his forehead, feeling somewhat feverish. He’s felt drained the past few weeks, but especially so after the dream he’d last had. His entire body is aching, and his breaths feel shallow, but if he plans to try to go to Fontaine he’d better start working now. 

Alhaitham opens the documents on his desk, diligently working on one after the other until his eyes land on the freshest arrivals. 

Alhaitham doesn’t fully remember what happened after that, but he remembers reading the words that shattered his entire world before his vision faded to black. 

“The student and faculty body is urgently requesting the papers to be processed to allow the body of (y/n) to be transferred to Sumeru to be buried in her homeland after her tragic murder. please…”

--------------

Alhaitham opened his eyes to an unfamiliar sight, the air felt sanitised and the sheets scratchy, alarming him to abruptly sit up, causing his head to feel light and vision to get hazy again. 

A nurse rushed over to him, calming him down and informing him of his condition. 

He was fatigued and had a fever, overwork and a mental shock took a toll on him and he passed out. That won’t do, he must get back to work so he can go after (y/n). 

(y/n)... 

His brain was refusing to process what he read, it must be a sick joke. A fucked up prank. You’re in Fontaine, happy and married, or perhaps still engaged. He hopes you’re still only engaged. 

He turns to the nurse who still held a worried look on her face, brown eyes crinkled in worry over a stranger. You’d give him this look sometimes too. 

“I’m alright. I’m going home to rest now.” he didn’t. 

He went back to the Akademiya, back to his office, to check that this was not reality, only one of the many nightmares that had been haunting him. He wasn’t the most devout man in his life, but for the first time in his life he made a prayer. Please let him have another chance, please don’t make him live this, don’t take her away from me this way.

Fate was cruel. 

Alhaitham faced the reality living out before him. He looked down, his wrist trembling, he’s been so afraid to look for the longest time, knowing he undeserving he was of it, but now he needs to, he needs to confirm. 

He turned his wrist, the mark on it has lost all colour, it’s now darker than any night Alhaitham had lived.

------------------

You left this world, he chants in his head, rocking back and forth. 

His room looked like a testament of destruction, everything was smashed, papers ripped, books destroyed, everything he faced didn’t survive to tell the tale. 

You left him alone in this world. 

The house and Sumeru itself never felt too big for one person, but now he feels like he’s drowning amidst the populace, his world never felt duller and more lonely, he faintly remembers a familiar pricking of loneliness when his grandmother passed. The mere prick had transformed into a tidal wave that’s drowning him under, and Alhaitham can’t breath amidst the saltwater. 

Did you even read his letters? Did you at least die knowing he loves you? 

He holds his pounding head in his hands, crushed at the thought of you dying with the thought that he doesn’t care about you. Did you forgive him as you took your last breath? Or did you despise him tenfold? 

You were killed, how could anyone think of hurting you? Since when was the world so cruel? 

It’s all Alhaitham’s fault, if he hadn’t pushed you towards that man, you would never have left with him, if only he thought for a second, if only his hubris didn’t cloud his logic. 

His heart had died that day, but he couldn’t find it in him to stand up and attend the funeral.

-----------------

“This is the book that brought us together my love, I still remember. If I recall far enough I can even describe the feeling of your fingers brushing against mine.” Alhaitham mutters, making himself comfortable beside you, this is the closest he will get to reading in your embrace, so he might as well make himself comfortable against the harsh slab of rock that has become your home. 

“I should have let you have it, or perhaps suggested we read it together? I should have invited you to pupsa cafe that day and introduced you as my soulmate to the owner. I can’t undo that, no longer am I able to agonise about the past, so now this is my attempt of redoing it. I hope you can forgive me.” he said, tracing the soil as tears lined his lashes, he brought you some flowers too, this is his first time bringing you flowers. 

“I’ll read the book out to you, alright?” and so Alhaitham flicks the book open. 

He reads out until his throat hurts, and the position of the sun changes, until the wind becomes more biting and harsh, and the song of nature becomes louder. He’s got the protection of your scarf, but it pains him even more that your scent has nearly fully faded away. 

He flicks the book closed, asking you about it, but of course you can never respond, nor can you even hear him when you're resting in silence six feet under. 

Humans are truly curious creatures, Alhaitham can admit he’s no exception. Their actions can never be truly calculated, uncontrolled variables cloud their existence. Most people accept the benefits that come with having a chosen one ordained by the stars, they weep in joy as a fated lover sweeps them under. 

Some like Alhaitham do not. They justify the rationale of a lonely existence, disregard a fate carved for them by an unknown force, they refuse to become one with the herd. However, one doesn’t discover true loneliness until they discover what it’s like to bask in the joys of companionship. Such simple acts like drinking coffee together while you both read, the comfort of knowing that you’re always nearby, ready to intervene when you think life is becoming too troublesome for him, the celebratory gifts, the laughs and smiles, they are all so incredibly mundane. But love is not so otherworldly, because if so, then the masses would never get to experience it. Your simple acts of love towards him are things he shall never experience again. The truth, something he always pursued with endless disregard for people’s feelings, is now too bitter for him to accept. 

Did Alhaitham’s world always look so grey? Why is loss so hard to comprehend? It might have something to do with the fact that you were never his to lose. 

He’s like a child, chasing after a kite that he can never have within his grasp again, nature’s will is too strong. 

The people at the Akademiya have moved on, tales and gossip surrounding your death dimmed from gasp-inducing tales to idle chatter, and now time has moved on and you were simply a topic out of season. It makes him mad, the way your friends can so easily laugh without looking at the vacant spot in their groups, how could the world so easily move on when Alhaitham is still left behind, clinging on to an outdated calendar?

His anger has long disappeared though, it left nothing but the bitter sting of regret, regret for what wasn’t and for what now couldn’t be. It took him too long to realise that the bentos dumped in trashes could have been dinners he came home to, made not expertly but with love. That seeing you barefoot in his kitchen after he left his work on the dot was a daydream worth chasing after. He grips the flask in his hand, throat feeling parched for release, mind desperate to finally leave this nightmare behind and rest.

“They say soulmates are binded in every life, their souls marking their bodies in an attempt to find their missing half. Do you think in the next life, we can be together? It’s too cruel to think that this is the end, so I entertain myself with such musings sometimes to comfort myself.”

Too preoccupied and swarmed with thoughts, Alhaitham failed to notice the shadow approaching him until its figure stood in front of him. He lifts his head, taking in the elderly lady who’s gentle countenance and wise wrinkled eyes reminded him so much of his grandmother that he nearly asked for an embrace. 

“Are you alright young man, you’ve been in this cold for a while haven’t you? I’m sure your loved one would want you to be happy and warm.'' Her soothing tone nearly made Alhaitham break into sobs, confessing that he’s never known warmth since you took all of it away when you became cold. He became cold too, after all he is your other half. 

He smiled, a smile so sincere that it looked off on his usually sombre face, and a hint of warmth seemed to return to him. He fingered the flask in his hand, his eyes hinting the grief bottled up inside of him. 

“Don’t worry, I will be, it shouldn’t take too long.”

----------------

“It’s been several years since the tragedy of the couple in mention, and while a difficult decision, we have decided a few months ago to look at their case to study the phenomenon of soulmates and their correlation to dreaming.” The aged lecturer spoke, voice low and hinting at the deep seriousness of the matter. The hall is silent, many having memories of the two, and while the murder of (y/n) shook many to their core, the unseen bond that you had to the Akademiya’s scribe made the tale truly a tragedy. Others, the more clueless ones who didn’t quite know the two, cast curious glances around. With time, there will be no need to pay homage to the tragedy of the matter, your bond will not be commemorated for how loving or sad it was, but it will be documented for Academic research. In a way, you and Alhaitham will live on and be remembered as a pair, though not the way either of you intended. 

“The various notes left behind by the two, Alhaitham’s in particular, took especially long to go through, and some transcriptions had to be salvaged. This study proved useful to the hypothesis that soulmates are more prone to dreaming because of the connection that they share. Many researchers have gone further to assert that it might be that the link between them links their subconscious and the hyper activity across this link stimulates shared dreams. The feelings of the pair experienced during daylight muddled together during their sleep-” the lecturer pauses to take a deep breath, flicking through the lecture notes “-and produced dreams that were shared by the two, and seemed to be directly influenced by both their feelings.” he let that information sink in before resuming. 

“For example, as seen in page 34, Alhaitham  was avid in documenting anything related to his soulmate, yet it seemed he was completely unaware, as most people wouldn’t be, that the day he dreamt of her having intercourse with someone else was the same day that she in fact did. We can thus somewhat deduce that this dream was influenced by her feelings regarding the-” he paused momentarily, thinking of an appropriate phrasing “-her feelings regarding the act.” 

“The dreams they had, interestingly, sometimes reflected their feelings towards each other more honestly than their daylight hours and dialogue. Their bond can never be broken by rejection, it seemed. They still found a way of subconsciously communicating. Their case has become a hot topic of research, especially in regards to soulmates and dreams respectively.”