i want the K, MERCEDESSSS
forget tactics, history and politics. economics could be forgotten to time, social politics ignored. what mercedes has learned above all things, is that the blue lions house is that for which its residents hate themselves.
prince dimitri, now a king with so much blood on his hands he could paint a cathedral’s roof crimson leads the charge, his hatred taking on the form of an entirely different personality. felix’s takes the form of a ghost that looks like him and haunts his steps, stands in front of him and muddies the form of his face, makes him look like his brother. and ingrid? ingrid has had a future pressed upon her that defies the very taste of her bones, and somewhere along the line she has been taught to hate that she wants something different.
and mercedes herself? oh, she hates control, the mere concept that she should take control of something for herself. that is what has left her so demure, so quiet, so accepting of the self-deprecation so rife within her classmates.
but now, now it has been several years, and in that time mercedes has become a mother to children, a warrior to war, and a priestess to words that mean nothing but for who speaks them. she has patience no longer for pain expressed in such a way that damages the speaker. not when she knows better.
that’s why she silences ingrid with a kiss. in the moment their lips press together, all of that flutters away from her mind while she picks apart the tastes. there’s honey there, as well as blood and bitterness.
“i’ll hear no more of that,” mercedes says softly. her eyes are not on ingrid’s, turned away as though relinquishing shame to the goddess is a pitiful thing by itself. “one day i hope you’ll come to love yourself as much as i love you, but until then, i’ll wait.”
LETS SMOOCH / accepting / @shevalry