Smoke of the future
Moodboard/masterlist
Pairing: King Simon Riley x Mage!Reader
Summary: You are King Simon’s most trusted ally, gifted with the ability to glimpse the future. With your guidance, he has risen to become one of the greatest rulers the kingdom has ever known. But when forgotten memories begin resurfacing, unraveling secrets buried in time, everything changes. What will he do when forced to choose between you and his people? And when love and duty stand at odds, which path will you take?
Word count: 2.2k
Chapter 1
You’ve spent enough time in this court to grow accustomed to the whispers and wary glances the nobles cast your way. Yet, they never dare to speak their disdain aloud or meet your gaze for too long, as if fearing you might curse their blood.
You’ve always felt more at home among commoners than the noblewomen, whose greatest worries revolve around whether they’ve underdressed for an event. So, whenever an opportunity arises to slip beyond the castle walls, you take it—venturing into the village to offer herbal remedies and practice magic-infused medicine for those who plead for your aid time and time again.
It’s not as if King Simon has ever forced you to stay by his side. More than once, he’s told you that you’re free to leave whenever you wish. But every time you so much as mentioned retiring to a quiet little cabin by the borders, he's given you that look—the one that says, You can’t really leave me. I need you.
"You're terribly quiet," Simon's voice pulled at your thoughts as he leaned closer.
You shot him a look before turning your attention back to the old nobleman droning on across the table. For what felt like the fifth time this week—though the week had only just begun—he was rambling about the situation down by the coast.
"He should worry about his wife sleeping with their servant, not about something you've already gotten under control, my king."
Simon let out a quiet laugh. He’d always loved how there was no filter between your thoughts and your tongue—whatever crossed your mind inevitably spilled out.
"You've seen the future of his marriage?"
You shook your head slightly, gaze shifting to the side. Staring was impolite, you reminded yourself.
"Saw his wife sneaking away with the servant boy at the last gathering."
Simon huffed out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "You do have a habit of noticing things you shouldn't."
You merely hummed in response, fingers idly tracing the rim of your goblet as the nobleman droned on, still oblivious to the fact that neither of you were truly listening.
"Should I tell him?" Simon kept his voice low "Or let him waste his breath on a matter that’s already resolved?"
"Depends. Do you want to be entertained, or do you want to be merciful?"
Simon glanced at the old man, who was still gesturing wildly, lost in his own speech. "Mercy isn't my strongest trait," he admitted.
"Neither is patience," you murmured.
His gaze flicked to you "And yet, I’ve had plenty when it comes to you."
The nobleman's voice droned on, and you felt Simon watching you. It was moments like these—where duty and formality blurred at the edges—that reminded you why you'd stayed by his side for so long. He didn’t treat you like the others did, with fear and suspicion. He listened, laughed, and—despite never saying it outright—he relied on you.
"You're patient with me, because I am quite useful." You shrugged, eyes darting to Simon "And we're friends."
Simon scoffed quietly, shaking his head "Drink your wine, little witch. We've got a long night ahead of us."
You tilted your head back against the chair’s backrest, letting your eyes slip shut. This was the part you hated most—sitting through these mind-numbing meetings. Even without your visions, they all blurred together, the same discussions looping over and over.
Simon knew how much you despised them. Hell, he hated them just as much. But he refused to suffer through them alone, so he made sure to drag you down with him every single time.
The noble's voice, along with the occasional uninterested hums from Simon, faded into the background as your mind drifted elsewhere.
The thing about your visions was that you had no control over them. You couldn’t summon them at will, and you couldn’t make them leave you alone. Some came like fleeting whispers, indistinct and blurry. Others were sharp—too vivid, too real. But one thing was certain. They were never wrong.
This time, it came quickly. Whispers swirled around you, a flickering image of a new threat looming over Simon’s life. The voices were frantic, the words blurred together—only the sharp sting of panic cutting through. Someone was screaming, but you couldn’t tell who.
A cold ache spread through your chest, a familiar weight pressing down, and then there were warm palms on your waist, grounding you.
A figure moved in the shadows, their silhouette ominous, shifting like a predator. You couldn’t see their face, but you could feel them, the weight of their presence, the sense that something was coming.
The scream—the one that had echoed so faintly—became clearer. It wasn’t just anyone. It was the King. Simon’s voice, raw and filled with pain, was unmistakable.
Your hands were hot. And wet. Blood. The blood was on your hands.
You snapped back into the room, gasping for breath, heart pounding. Your hands shot out, instinctively reaching for Simon, your fingers brushing against his sleeve.
“Did you…?” Simon straightened up, his full attention now on you.
You couldn’t find the words, so you just shook your head. Without a second thought, you pushed yourself out of your seat. Your hands curled into the fabric of your skirt, fingers gripping it tightly as you moved quickly toward the door, the sound of your hurried steps echoing in the room.
The hallway was quieter, and it gave you a moment to breathe, but the unease churned in your gut. Your palms were still warm from the vision. You rubbed them against your skirt, as if trying to erase the lingering sensation, but it didn’t help.
The sound of your own footsteps grew louder, mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. You barely registered the soft hum of the lights overhead or the distant conversations behind you. All you could think of was that scream—the rawness of it, and how much it had felt like it came from Simon.
Your hand pressed against the wall as you slowed, trying to collect yourself, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But there was no clarity, just confusion.
"Hey," Simon’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts. You didn’t turn around.
He was right behind you, his steps purposeful, but not chasing. He was giving you space, letting you come to him on your own terms, but you knew he wouldn’t let you run for long.
“Talk to me,” he said.
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you turned to face him. "Just one of those... vivid visions."
Simon gave a slow nod "Do you need to lie down?"
Your hand tightened it's grip on your skirt "Yeah... I'll find you once I've collected myself. You go back to your duties, my King."
His gaze roamed over you, a moment of hesitation on his part, before he returned to the meeting.
His touch was warm, almost burning. You could feel your breath catching, bodies moving in sync.
"God, you're so beautiful." He whispered into your ear, arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer, his breath hot against your parted lips. "I love you, my lady."
Fingertips traced the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You shivered, tilting your chin up, inviting him closer, needing more. His nose brushed against yours, foreheads resting together.
"Say it again," you breathed, hands threading into his hair, anchoring yourself to him.
Simon's lips found yours in response, slow and lingering, a promise sealed between shared breaths. "I love you," he vowed, voice breaking ever so slightly, as if the words had been carved from his very soul. "I always will."
You jolted awake, a sharp breath tearing from your lips as you pushed tangled strands of hair from your face. The remnants of his touch still lingered—phantom kisses against your skin, the steady echo of his heartbeat against your own. But it wasn’t a vision. It couldn’t be. You’d seen the same thing night after night, the scenes playing on an endless loop, like a cruel trick of the mind. And now, with the whispers growing louder in the castle halls, you wondered if the nobles were right. Perhaps you were losing your mind.
Without bothering to dress properly, you slipped out of your chambers and made your way beyond the castle walls. The cool night air wrapped around you as you hurried toward the lake house just outside the village, where the only person who could understand you awaited.
You didn’t have to knock. The elderly woman sat on the porch, hands clasped in her lap, her sharp gaze already fixed on you as if she had known you were coming.
“I made tea,” Kate said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It will ease your mind, my dear.”
You stopped a few feet away, your arms wrapping around yourself as you struggled to steady your breath. “I think I’m losing my mind.” Your voice wavered.
Kate had been your advisor for as long as you could remember. She had practically raised you, guiding you through the burdens of your gift—the same gift she possessed yet never used to rise in rank or secure a more comfortable life.
“The visions I’ve been seeing…” You swallowed, forcing the words out in a single breath. “They feel more like—”
“Memories,” Kate finished for you.
You nodded, dread settling deep in your chest. “But that’s not possible. They can’t be my memories. How could I forget something like—” You cut yourself off, rubbing your hands over your face as panic threatened to overtake you.
Kate lifted her tea, blowing gently over the steaming surface before taking a slow sip. Then, she met your eyes with a knowing look.
“Sit down, Y/N,” she said softly. “I saw this day coming. And I have been waiting for it.”
"You had a vision?" You were rooted in the spot, not moving an inch.
"Didn't need a vision to know that memories will come back. I warned you about that, but you didn't listen. Same as I've said time and time again, you cannot change the future, the visions are as they come and they're bound to happen, even if you try to delay them, sweet girl."
Your eyebrows furrowed but before you could get a word in Kate continued.
"If you're remembering, the King will soon too." She hummed, fingers curling around her tea mug. A knowing look flickered in her aged eyes. "Do you remember how you became King Simon's advisor?"
You exhaled, trying to steady yourself. "Yes.. you guided me to him when I had the vision about commotion at the border just after he took the throne."
"But that wasn't the first time you've met him, Y/N. You had known him for years before that."
Your stomach twisted, confusion settling deep in your bones. That couldn’t be true. Kate must’ve been mistaken, her age catching up to her. You would remember something like that, wouldn’t you?
"And the King, before he was who he is now, spent many quiet summer nights here."
Your frown deepened. The lake house had always been your safe haven, untouched by the weight of courtly life. If Simon had ever been here, you would remember. You should remember.
You squeezed your eyes shut.
Blank.
Your mind was blank.
No visions. No flickers of familiarity. Just empty space where a lifetime of memories should have been.
"It's gonna come back," Kate hummed and you could feel her gaze on you as you tried to make sense of her words.
You shook your head "How... how is it possible?"
Kate sighed, taking a slow sip of her tea before setting the mug down with careful precision. "I remember that night like it was yesterday. You came to me crying, begging me to tell you how to change the future. You were desperate." Her eyes darkened, her voice softening with something like regret. "But when I told you, again and again, that the future cannot be changed, you left. And when you returned, it was as if a part of your life had been erased.”
Her gaze pinned you in place. “The part that was Simon.”
You took a step closer. "Tell me everything."
Kate exhaled, the weight of years pressing into her shoulders as she gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit down, Y/N."
You hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to run—to demand answers from someone else, anyone else. But you knew Kate wouldn’t lie to you. She never had. So, with a deep breath, you lowered yourself onto the wooden chair, hands gripping the edge of your cloak.
"Before he ever sat on that throne, before the crown ever weighed on his head, before the war—he was yours. And you were his."
Your lips parted, but no sound came out.
Kate sighed, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. "You saw something in a vision—something terrible. And when you realized you couldn’t stop it, you did the only thing you could."
She looked at you again, her eyes filled with something that looked an awful lot like pity.
"You erased him from your heart."








