Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cruel Hart (age 11)

He had seen ghosts smile more often than his youngest sister.

Deona always looked too serious. Too still. Like a painting someone forgot to finish. She answered when spoken to, followed instructions, never cried, never laughed, never anything.

So when he spun her around in the courtyard, hands sticky with syrup from stolen fruit tarts, and she let out a sound not quite a laugh, but not silence either he nearly dropped her.

Her cheeks rose. Her eyes curved. Her lips, her lips smiled.

Cruel stared like he’d discovered fire.
“…Do that again,” he whispered.

She didn’t.
But he would spend the next three weeks trying.

---

Deon Hart (age 7)

She smiled.

His twin, the one who always looked at the world like it owed her a fight - smiled.

She had scraped her knees, both of them, chasing him through the rose garden. Deon had turned back, worried. But she just looked up at him with a crooked, muddy grin and said:
“It’s fine. You didn’t fall.”

His heart twisted.
He didn’t know why he wanted to cry. Or hug her. Or never let anyone else touch her ever again.

“Dummy,” he mumbled, eyes burning.
She only smiled wider.

---

Father (Lord Hart)

He hadn’t expected softness from the girl. She was small, silent, too smart, too strange. Like a shadow left behind after war.

He watched from the window, arms crossed, as she stood beside her brothers. Cruel made a joke. Deon patted her head. And there fleeting as a dying ember came the curve of her mouth.

A smile.
Not polite. Not practiced.
Real.

His breath caught.
“…So she’s not broken,” he murmured.

And for a terrifying second, he felt like a father again.

---

Mother (Lady Hart)

She had prayed. Night after night, she’d begged the gods to give her daughter something other than silence.

Deona was so beautiful. But so cold. So quiet. Born with eyes too old and voice too calm. Her baby girl never cried as a baby. Never screamed. Never called “Mama.”

So when she saw that smile half-teeth, wide-eyed, sunlit she dropped her embroidery.

“Oh.”
Tears welled up instantly. Her hands trembled.

“Darling,” she whispered, rushing over. “You’re happy?”

Deona tilted her head, puzzled. “I… think so.”
And smiled again, just to see what her mother would do.

Lady Hart laughed and wept all at once.

---

And they thought that smile was forever. How much wrong they were

---

“She Doesn’t Smile Anymore”

Cruel Hart (age 12)

He remembered the moment it happened.

She’d been humming.

Just a little, under her breath a tune he’d taught her. Something simple. He’d caught her doing it while she arranged Deon’s pencils in color order, tongue sticking out, brows scrunched.

She looked peaceful.

But then the door slammed.

Father’s boots struck the floor like falling stones.

Cruel knew something was wrong before Father said a word. Before the yelling started. Before Deon’s name was spoken with that tone. Before Deona instinctively moved in front of her twin like a shield.

The Duke’s hand cracked through the air.

And landed hard, across her face.

The sound it made shut the room up like a blown-out candle.

Cruel’s heart stopped.
Everything froze.

Deon gasped.
Deona did not.

She stood perfectly still. A red mark blossoming across her cheek. Her lip twitching.

Cruel tried to speak. Tried to move.

But she looked at him and he saw it.
The light in her eyes?
Gone.

The smile she'd been wearing?

Wiped.
Like it had never been there at all.

---

Deon Hart (age 8)

He kept telling himself it wasn’t supposed to happen.

He was the one who made the mistake. He’d dropped the plate. He’d forgotten the protocol. He had spoken out of turn, not her.

So why did she take the blow?

Why did she put herself between him and Father’s anger?

Why was she always faster than him?

Deon didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt Deona’s sleeve wipe his cheek.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, soft and quiet. “You’re safe.”

But her eyes…

Her smile…

They weren’t the same.

There was no curve. No light. Just… emptiness.
Like something inside her had folded in on itself and died.

He’d never hated silence so much in his life.

---

Lord Hart

“She disrespected her place.”

That’s what he told himself.
That’s what he repeated when the ache in his palm wouldn't fade.

Children were meant to obey. Not interrupt. Not interfere. Certainly not throw themselves between their elders and discipline.

Yet now every time he looked at her, he saw it.

The stillness had returned.
But it was different than before.

This wasn’t silence born of restraint.
It was silence born of retreat.

She avoided his eyes. Her steps were smaller. Her laughter-

No. There was no laughter. Not even that strange, breathless mimic of it.

She no longer smiled at her brothers.
She no longer smiled at all.

He caught her once, in the mirror, touching her cheek where he had struck her. Gently. Like she was trying to remember what it used to feel like before.

The duke didn’t know what to do with that.

So he left.

---

Lady Hart

“She hasn’t smiled in days.”

Lady Hart’s hands trembled around her tea.

She had asked Deona what was wrong. The girl only bowed her head and said nothing.

She had tried offering sweets, gifts, stories but Deona’s lips stayed still. Her face stayed unreadable.

Not even Cruel’s ridiculous juggling made her laugh anymore. Not even Deon’s pouty whining worked.

And when Lady Hart leaned close and whispered, “My starlight, will you smile for me?”

Deona simply blinked.
Tilted her head.
And asked, “Why?”

Lady Hart didn’t have an answer. She cried in the bath that night.

---

Later That Month – Cruel Again

He found her in the same courtyard where she’d smiled the first time.

The sun was setting. The grass was still. She sat beside the fountain, staring at nothing. The wind blew white strands of hair across her face.

“Do you remember that day you smiled?” Cruel asked quietly.

Deona didn’t look at him. “Which one?”

“The first one.”

She was silent for a long time. Then:
“…Barely.”

He swallowed hard. “Can you try again?”

Deona turned to face him. Her eyes were calm. But there was no spark.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think I can.”

Cruel hated how grown-up she sounded.
Hated that she was right.

Chapter Text

Deon - “Glass Doll”

Deon: Why do they call me Glass Doll?
Cruel: Because you’re pretty, fragile, and terrifying to touch.
Vale: Also, you break under pressure.
Rellia: But you’re sharp when you shatter.
Deon:
Deon: ...That's oddly poetic.
Deona: You did cry when someone raised their voice.
Deon: IT WAS AN EMOTIONAL WEEK, OKAY?!

---

Cruel - “Saint’s Mistake”

Cruel: Why do they call me Saint’s Mistake?
Rellia: Because you're too kind to survive us.
Deona: You talk like a priest but fight like a sinner.
Vale: You're literally named Cruel and you're the only decent one here.
Deon: You're basically divine punishment with good hair.
Cruel:
Cruel: …You all need therapy.
Deona: No. We need knives.

---

Vale - “Prince Pain-in-the-Ass”

Vale: What the hell is “Prince Pain-in-the-Ass” supposed to mean?!
Rellia: You act like royalty.
Deona: You complain like royalty.
Cruel: You flirt like a curse.
Deon: You’ve started three fights just by existing.
Vale:
Vale: You’re all just jealous.
Everyone: Of WHAT?!
Vale: Me. Obviously.

---

Rellia - “Rose of Regret”

Rellia: “Rose of Regret”? Seriously?
Vale: You’re beautiful.
Cruel: And sharp.
Deona: And people tend to bleed after meeting you.
Deon: Emotionally or physically?
All: YES.

---

Bonus: “White Rat” Revisited

Vale: You really hate that nickname, huh?
Deona *sharpening knife*: They can say it with their last breath.
Cruel: You’re proving their point.
Deona: I am the point.

---

I will introduce Vale & Rellia.
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eventually

Chapter Text

Let me introduce The Holy Trinity Of Dumbass™ energy.

- Chaos incarnate
- Brains? Shared like a cursed family heirloom
- Survive by luck, rage, and blind sexual tension

SO HERE THEY ARE:

---

TEAM DUMBASS™ PROFILES

---

DEONA “STAB FIRST, THINK NEVER” HART

Emotionally constipated, physically overpowered, spiritually unhinged

Can’t lift swords but WILL lift your entire trauma

Idea of “diplomacy” is throwing her knife slightly less hard

Has two settings: ✨blushing virgin✨ or “I’ll kill God and then myself”

Has never filled out paperwork in her life

Smiles once and two nations declare war by accident

Famous last words:

“Don’t worry. I saw this in a dream.”
it was a nightmare. it ends in fire.

---

RELLIA “I BITE” OF ??? BLOODLINE

Emotionally stable™ (read: terrifyingly not)

Started a rebellion because someone told her “no” once

Has stabbed someone with a hairpin and a spoon

Walks into courtrooms like a boss bitch, walks out dragging a corpse

Deona is her babygirl. Vale is her chew toy.

Cannot whisper. “Indoor voice” is a myth.

Dresses like royalty, fights like a street rat. Has no chill.

Famous last words:

“I asked nicely. Now I’m setting it on fire.”

---

VALE “I HAVE TWO BRAIN CELLS AND THEY'RE FIGHTING” OF VISCOUNT CAEREL HOUSE DUMB

Overconfident. Underqualified. Too pretty.

Once got lost in a straight hallway

Has a dagger collection and 0 impulse control

Tries to be suave, trips over his own cape

Thinks “subtlety” is a seasoning

Believes in love, chaos, and letting Deona top

Gets beat up and thanks people for it

Famous last words:

“Technically, I didn’t start the fire. I just… added oil.”

---

What will happen when they go out together?

Rellia: "Let’s plan this out."

Vale: "Let’s improvise."

Deona: "Let’s jump out the window and scream."

Result:
A diplomatic event ends with six arrests, one wedding proposal, a horse in the ballroom, and Deon Hart sighing in the background like “this is why I have grey hair.”

---

MINI SCENE DUMBASS DROPS

---
Deona eats raw pepper:

Vale *grinning like a devil*: “I dare you to eat it.”

Deona: Already chewing. Face blank. No hesitation. Pure chaos energy.

Rellia *sniffing the air, slightly alarmed*: “Do you... smell burning?”

Deona *voice strained, eyes unfocused*: “My soul is ascending.”

Vale: “She's vibrating.”

Rellia: “She's crying.”

Deona *tears streaming, nose running, smiling like a maniac*: “Worth it.”

---

Noble (sneering): "You're just a lowborn rat."

Rellia *smiling like the insult was a compliment* : "True."

Deona *deadpan, arms crossed*: "I like rats."

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵. 𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵.

Vale *already pulling out his crossbow with the calm intensity of a lunatic*: "Let’s test how fast you squeal."

A beat of silence. The noble is pale. Rellia giggles like this is a picnic. Deona sighs, because now they have to hide another body.

---
Deona: “We need a distraction.”

Vale: cracks knuckles “On it.”

He immediately strips off his cloak, throws glitter in the air, and launches into dramatic interpretive dance - all hip rolls and haunting eye contact.

Rellia *deadpan, watching*: “...He’s not even the worst distraction we’ve used.”

Cue loud BOOM from down the hall

Deona *shouting over the explosion*: “I set off fireworks! There’s a bear costume in the storeroom! Who wants round two?!”

Rellia: “I’m starting to think we’re the reason war crimes got redefined.”

Chapter Text

Cruel (eldest brother)

What she says: "He's a control freak with a stick up his ass. But if anyone tries to touch that stick, I will kill them."

Deona thinks he’s too intense sometimes - the golden child, the one who always knew what to say to make her feel small. But she also knows Cruel is trying, in his own awkward, terrifying way, to protect them.

She still remembers when he picked her and Deon up from the dirt after a beating, his hands shaking as he wiped their faces.

She will never say it out loud, but she does trust him - more than anyone else.

Deon (twin brother)

What she says: "I’d die for him. I’d also kill him. Depends on the day."

Deon is her other half, her first partner-in-crime, the only one who knows what it was like growing up in the shadow of “Hart family perfection.”

She gets fiercely protective of him - even more so after taking his place on the battlefield.

At times, she resents how fragile he looks to the world. He’s not. He’s survived things no one knows.

But that’s why she stands in front - because if she doesn’t, no one else will.

Their parents

“I know they loved us. I just wish they’d loved us better.”

Deona, who read the novel.
Who remembers the storyline, the quiet scenes, the narrator’s hints:
The mother who cried when Deon bled.
The father who stood silently in Deon’s doorway when he was asleep.

She knows they loved them - or at least, they loved Deon.

But she was Deona.
And as Deona?

All she saw was:

Her mother looking through her like she was a stranger.

Her father’s hand when she stepped out of line - and silence when she didn’t.

Her own loyalty called “rebellion,” her protectiveness called “disrespect.”

A family that praised Cruel, pitied Deon, and tolerated her.

So even if she knows they loved them - it doesn’t feel like that includes her.

---

Deona *quietly*:
“I read the story. I know they cared.
They stayed up when Deon was sick.
They saved every drawing he gave them.
They were proud of Cruel. They… tried.”

“But I was there too, you know?”
“I was there when Deon got praised and I got silence. When I spoke up and got punished for it. When they called me loud, dramatic, reckless.”

“I know they loved us. I just think they hated the way I loved them back - loudly. Desperately. With too much fire and not enough grace.”

So no, she doesn't hate her parents.
But she resents the years spent proving herself to a love she existed... just not for her.

---

Her lovers

Vale (red flag boyfriend)

What she says: "He's a menace. I love him. I want to strangle him."

She knows he’s a walking disaster. She also knows he makes her feel alive in a way no one else does.

He meets her chaos with his own, flirts like a threat, fights like a song.

He’s a beautiful mistake she keeps choosing.

And despite all the arguments, the slammed doors, the jealousy - he stays.

She’ll never say it, but that’s what matters most.

Rellia (green flag girlfriend)

What she says: "She’s the calm I pretend I don’t need."

Rellia gets her in a way that frightens Deona.

She’s kind without being weak, patient without pitying her.

Sometimes Deona pushes her away just to see if she’ll leave - and she never does.

That terrifies Deona more than anything: being loved so gently.

Rellia is everything Deona told herself she’d never have. And now?

She clings to her like a lifeline.

---

Here’s what Deona’s lovers - Vale and Rellia - think about her, in their own unfiltered, deeply different but equally obsessed ways:

---

Vale’s POV

“She’s the most dangerous thing I’ve ever touched. And I keep reaching anyway.”

He knows she’s a storm - not the kind you survive, the kind you beg to be consumed by.

The first time he saw her laugh with blood on her lips, he thought: That’s it. That’s the woman I’ll ruin myself for.

She drives him insane. She picks fights like flowers, walks into danger without looking back, and talks like no one can hurt her - not even herself.

He’s jealous of everyone who gets even a sliver of her attention - her brothers, her commanders, Rellia.
(He’ll never admit it. But he knows Rellia loves Deona too. And worse - Deona lets her.)

He wants to be the only one who gets her. But deep down? He knows he’ll never fully own her.
So instead, he stays close enough to burn.

“She keeps breaking her own heart just to hold other people’s together. I’d kill anyone who lets her do that again.”

---

Rellia’S POV

“I love her like breathing. Even when she forgets she deserves to be held.”

She sees Deona clearer than anyone else does.

She sees past the sharp tongue, the smirking bravado, the reckless choices.
She sees the girl who taught herself not to cry because no one would come if she did.

Rellia doesn’t try to fix her. She just holds the pieces when they fall apart.

And gods, Deona tries so hard not to be loved. She pushes and bites and tests every boundary.
But Rellia stays. She always stays.

She lets Deona be everything - loud, messy, fragile, furious.
Because Rellia doesn’t want her perfect. She wants her real.

“She thinks she’s hard to love. But I don’t know how to stop.”

---

Bonus (if they ever had a drink together):

Vale: “If she ever dies on us, I’ll raze an empire.”
Rellia: quietly “I’ll bring her back just to kill her myself.”

They hate how much they understand each other - but they both love the same girl like she’s the last light in a broken world.

---

Cruel (eldest brother)

"She always stood between the world and Deon. And when I wasn’t looking- she stood between it and me, too.”

Cruel wasn’t the one who got hurt growing up - not physically.
He was the one who watched. Who stood still. Who tried to keep the family in order, blind to what was really breaking.

And while he was trying to be the perfect eldest, Deona was the one who threw herself into the fire.

Cruel acts composed, controlled one. But when it comes to Deona? He loses it.

She wiped Deon’s tears before he could see them fall. She talked back when she should’ve stayed quiet.
She took blame that never belonged to her.
And she never told him.

That haunts him more than anything. That he didn’t know. That she didn’t let him know.

Now he tries to protect her - but she makes it nearly impossible. She bites, she disobeys, she laughs like she’s invincible.

He knows about Vale and Rellia. He’s tolerates Rellia. Barely.
Rellia at least has a spine.
He wants to snap Vale's neck. But if Deona smiles when she sees him... he just grits his teeth and walks away.

“She thinks protecting us makes her strong. But it’s the one thing that’s killing her.”

---

Deon (twin brother)

“She didn’t just save me. She chose me. Over and over. Even when it broke her.”

"She saved my life by ruining hers. I'll never be okey with that"

He remembers her hand gripping his, shaking but firm, after every horrible dinner, every slammed door.
He remembers her stepping forward first.
He remembers her lying, smiling, laughing - just to keep him from crying.

She was always the brave one. Always the shield.

He hates that now she walks around with scars she shouldn’t have earned.
That people treat her like she’s unbreakable - because they don’t see what she gave up.

Sometimes, he wants to scream at her: “Let someone else protect you for once!”
But he knows what she’d say. That she doesn't know how.

He hates them for having pieces of her he’ll never reach again… and loves them for holding her when he can’t.

Vale? He wants to punch him. Often.
Rellia? He trusts her more than he trusts himself.
But no matter what - no one gets to hurt Deona and walk away with that.

“I would’ve died for her. She never let me. So now I live for her instead.”

"I survived because of her. I owe her everything. And she won’t let me repay a damn thing.”

---

Parents’ POV on Deona: The Shielded and Shield

---

Mother Hart’s Thoughts:

“Deona… She is wild. Too wild. Fierce and loud like the wind that rattles the windows at night. She speaks with fire and defies my quiet hopes for a daughter.”

She sees Deona as both a blessing and a burden - a child who protects her brother with ferocity but who often breaks the delicate peace she so desperately wants at home.

To her, Deona’s bravery is tangled with recklessness, and her love feels like a storm.

She worries about Deona, but she doesn’t always know how to reach her. Instead, she often mistakes Deona’s boldness for defiance or ingratitude.

Deep down, she admires her strength - but she mourns the softness she wishes Deona could have.

---

Father Hart’s Thoughts:

“Deona is like a sword drawn too often - sharp and unforgiving, always ready to fight the world to protect her brother.”

He respects her loyalty and determination to guard Deon, his youngest, whom he quietly adores.

But he fears her wildness could one day be her undoing. He sees the scars she carries - both visible and invisible - and wonders if his harshness contributed to her hard edges.

He doesn’t always know how to show his love for her beyond discipline and expectation. To him, Deona is a warrior, but also a mystery he can’t fully understand.

He hopes that one day she’ll find peace - or at least, let someone protect her for once.

---

How They See Her Role in the Family:

The daughter who became a shield without being asked,

The one who bore burdens silently and fiercely,

The protector who took blows meant for her brother,

The heart of chaos and courage wrapped in one.

---

Unspoken Truth:

They love her deeply, but their way of loving is tied to tradition, discipline, and survival - which means Deona often felt like the “wild card” they respected but didn’t quite know how to hold.

---

Deona’s view of herself.
It’s a cracked mirror — one she polishes with sarcasm and rage so no one sees the fractures underneath.

---

What Deona Thinks of Herself:

“I’m not the favorite. I’m not the strongest. I’m just what’s left - so I learned to survive like that.”

---

She’s the middle child - caught between the perfect heir and the soft, beloved youngest.
She’s the sister who became the shield before she ever got to be a girl.
She’s the protector who learned that getting hurt was easier than watching someone else bleed.
And deep down, when she’s quiet - when no one is watching - she thinks:

“I’m the one who ruins things. I’m too much. I talk too loud. I fight too fast. I want too hard.”

She doesn’t hate herself. But she doesn't love herself either-
not in the same way she loves others.
She sees herself as useful, not precious.
As fierce, not gentle.
As the sword, not the hand that holds it.

---

She might think things like:

“If I stop fighting, what’s left of me?”

“I’m the reason they worry. I’m the problem to manage.”

“I’m not who anyone wanted. Just who was left behind.”

---

But you know what else?

She also knows:

“I kept my brother breathing.”

“I stood between my family and a hundred disasters.”

“I’ve bled for people who wouldn’t even say thank you.”

So her self-worth is buried, but it’s there.
It’s cracked, not broken.
Tired, but still burning.

---

She’ll never say it aloud, but:

“I don’t think I’m the hero. But maybe… I’m the reason someone else survives. And maybe that’s enough.”

---

Vale and Rellia absolutely love Deona, but do they resent her brothers just a little bit?
Oh. Absolutely. Here’s how:

---

Vale's resentment (The Red Flag Boyfriend)

“Oh, they get her soft side? Her loyalty? Her whole goddamn life? And I get what - knife wounds and trauma bonding?”

Vale would never say it out loud (unless drunk or bleeding), but he resents how Deona always puts her brothers first.

Cruel gives her an order, and she listens.
Deon looks tired, and she drops everything to check on him.
But Vale says “I missed you” and she shrugs like it’s nothing.

He gets it - she grew up protecting Deon, standing in Cruel’s shadow, surviving a battlefield of expectations.
But he’s here now, too. Doesn’t that mean anything?

And no, he’s not jealous of them.
He’s jealous of the parts of her that only they get: the childlike parts. The soft, defenseless ones.

Vale gets the fire, the chaos, the wild.
But sometimes he wants the Deona who sleeps without knives under her pillow.
The one her brothers seem to know.

“If they weren’t her brothers, I’d have killed them already. Just for being closer than I ever get to be.”

---

Rellia's resentment (The Green Flag Girlfriend)

“They keep breaking her heart in the name of love. And she keeps forgiving them.”

Rellia doesn’t say it. She keeps her voice calm. She understands the Hart family bond.

But watching Deona bend and break herself for her brothers makes her furious in a quiet, burning kind of way.

Cruel pushes too hard. Deon pulls too much.
And Deona? She never says no.
She’s still trying to prove she’s useful, worthy, needed - as if love has to be earned.

Rellia watches her flinch when Cruel scolds her. Watches her eyes drop when Deon looks disappointed.
And Rellia wants to scream: You don’t have to keep dying for them.

She knows they love her.
But she also knows Deona was taught love through pain - and her brothers never really taught her anything else.

“If they truly loved her, they’d stop letting her bleed for them.”

---

Vale’s Thoughts on Deona’s Parents:

“They built walls around their love - and Deona’s the one who had to tear them down.”

Vale sees them as cold and strict, wrapped in old traditions and pride, often missing the mark when it comes to truly understanding Deona.

To him, they love their children - but they’re trapped by their own fears and rigid expectations.

He’s frustrated that they praise Cruel, dote on Deon, and treat Deona like a problem to be managed rather than a daughter to be cherished.

Vale grew up in the House of Viscount - a place of endless expectations and never enough praise.

He knows what it’s like to always strive for approval that never truly comes, to be measured against impossible standards, and to feel unseen beneath the weight of legacy.

When he looks at Deona’s parents, he sees a reflection of his own family’s emotional neglect and rigid discipline.

He hates that Deona had to fight for scraps of love in a family that seems to value order and control over warmth and understanding.

Yet, despite it all, he loves Deona fiercely - because he recognizes her pain, and he knows what it means to crave love and never feel it enough.

"If they hurt her, they’ll have me to answer to.”

---

Rellia’s Thoughts on Deona’s Parents:

“I don’t just hate Deona’s parents - I hate all the families that think love can be earned by blood or silence.”

Rellia knows what it means to be unloved by birth, to survive on scraps, to be invisible and unwanted.

Raised on the streets, she learned to fight for everything - love, safety, trust - because her family never gave it.

Rellia feels deep sympathy for the parents - trapped in their roles, unable to break the cycle - but even more for Deona, who bore the cost.

While she understands their flaws, her own scars make her impatient and bitter toward any family that lets a child suffer in silence.

Her love for Deona is fierce and protective, born from a deep empathy and shared history of abandonment and fighting to be seen.

She sees how the family’s rigid rules and silence forced Deona to carry burdens alone, shaping her into someone who fears asking for help.

She admires Deona’s resilience and wishes her parents could have been softer, more present, more willing to meet her where she was.

Rellia is protective and sometimes fiercely vocal when the parents’ coldness shows, quietly vowing to be the love Deona was denied.

“Love isn’t enough if it doesn’t show. And they forgot to show her.”

---

Together, Vale & Rellia:

They’re not just Deona’s lovers - they’re her emotional rebels, challenging the old ways that hurt her.

Their resentment toward her parents is wrapped in their own wounds, but also in the desire to give Deona what she was denied: unconditional, visible, fierce love.

They want to protect her not only from enemies outside but from the ghosts of family failures that haunt her still.

Chapter Text

Vale

The tavern is loud, warm with laughter and the clink of mugs. Vale leans casually against the wooden bar, charming the crowd with that sly smile. Someone- an overly confident flirt- sidles up, throwing coy glances and careless touches.

Deona, wobbling slightly from the drinks, spots the scene from across the room. Her eyes narrow. The music dims in her mind, and suddenly she’s all spotlight and fire.

Without warning, she climbs onto the nearest table, knocking a plate askew. The crowd hushes, sensing a storm.

She lifts a shaky hand, voice raw and strong as she belts out:

"Don't go wasting your emotion,
Lay all your love on me!
Don't go sharing your devotion,
Lay all your love on me!"

Heads turn. The flirt’s grin fades. Vale freezes, caught between amusement and surprise.

Deona’s gaze fixes on Vale, wild and earnest, her fingers trembling but her voice steady:

"I've had a few little love affairs,
They didn't last very long and they've been pretty scarce.
I used to think I was sensible-
It makes the truth even more incomprehensible,
'Cause everything is new
And everything is you!"

Her eyes glisten. She takes a breath and launches into the chorus again, louder this time:

"Don't go wasting your emotion,
Lay all your love on me!
Don't go sharing your devotion,
Lay all your love on me!"

The crowd is stunned, unsure whether to cheer or back away slowly.

Vale’s mouth twitches, caught off guard by the fierce, awkward, utterly drunk declaration. The flirt shrinks back, awkwardly mumbling apologies.

A silence falls - then a nervous chuckle from the corner.

Vale blinks, stunned for a moment like he’s just been hit with a surprise dagger made of words and song.

Then his lips twitch into a slow, amused grin.

He steps closer, voice low but teasing:

“Is that a threat or a promise, Drunk Deona?”

He winks, then leans back against the bar with that devil-may-care swagger, eyes sparkling.

The flirt who tried to cozy up to him scurries away, cheeks burning.

Around the room, whispers start to ripple like wildfire:

- “Did you see Deona just sing? On a table?”

- “She’s definitely… something else.”

- “Vale’s lucky. Most people would have run.”

- “I think Vale’s kinda into it.”

- “Is that why they say Deona never backs down from anyone?”

- “She’s the storm you don’t want to get caught in.”

Laughter bubbles up again, but there’s a new edge of respect - and a little fear - whenever Deona passes.

Vale just watches her, shaking his head with a grin.

“She’s got fire,” he mutters. “And it’s all for me.”

---

Rellia

The firelight flickers across the crowded room. Vale is nearby, half-watching, half-drinking, but Deona’s attention is razor-sharp - or as sharp as it gets when she’s three sheets to the wind.

Rellia stands by the hearth, laughing with friends, radiant and strong. But then- someone steps closer, too close. A hand brushes Rellia’s arm. A smile lingers longer than it should.

Deona’s chest tightens like a knot. Her eyes narrow, but before she can process, the music inside her head takes over. She doesn’t think - she doesn’t act. She sings.

Climbing onto the nearest chair, swaying and fiery, she belts out, voice slurred but fierce:

“Darlin’, can I be your favorite?
I’ll be your girl, let you taste it-
I know what you want, yeah, just take it, take it”

The room falls silent. Eyes dart to Deona, stunned by her boldness.

She glares toward the interloper:

“Darlin’, can I be your favorite?
Want you to tell me you crave it-
My name’s whatever you make it, make it”

Her words grow sharper, more desperate:

“I swear you’re heaven, but girl, you’re no angel.
You take me places only we go.
You’re so pretty, God, I swear that it’s painful”

She reaches out with one trembling hand as if to grasp the air:

“I whisper things only we know.
Put your hands around my neck, make me faithful-
Soy celosa, lo siento.”

The last words hang heavy in the air: I’m jealous, I’m sorry.

Rellia’s eyes widen, heart hammering - half surprised, half deeply touched.

Vale snorts from across the room, shaking his head but clearly impressed.

The flirt retreats with a muttered excuse, eyes burning.

The party slowly exhales. Deona slumps down, cheeks flushed, a triumphant smirk curling her lips despite the buzz.

---

Rellia stands frozen for a heartbeat, stunned by the sudden outburst. Her cheeks flush a deep rose, the heat of Deona’s words lingering in the air like a charged storm.

Her usual confident, calm smile softens into something more vulnerable - touched, surprised, maybe even a little shy.

She steps forward, voice quiet but steady:

“Deona... I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Her eyes search Deona’s, seeing past the drunken bravado to the raw, honest ache underneath.

Deona blinks, caught off guard, the moment breaking through her haze.

“I- I didn’t mean to... scare you,” she slurs, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly.

Rellia’s smile returns, warmer now, and she reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Deona’s ear.

“It’s okay. I like knowing you care. Even like that.”

Deona’s heart skips, but before she can respond, Vale strolls up beside her, a knowing smirk on his lips.

He claps a hand on her shoulder, low enough for only her to hear:

“Guess you really can’t let her go, huh?”

Deona shoots him a glare mixed with a sheepish grin.

“Shut up, Vale. You’re just jealous you don’t get a serenade like that.”

Vale laughs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah. But next time, maybe don’t sing it in front of everyone.”

Deona grins, leaning into Rellia’s side.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The three of them share a quiet moment — tangled, messy, but real — under the warm glow of the firelight.

Chapter Text

The tea was sweet.

Eduardo preferred it bitter. But the children- his niece and nephew- liked sugar. So he drank it sweet, watching them nibble pastries under golden curtains in the palace garden.

His nephew Elphidius was ten. His niece, Aletea eight. The last children of his elder brother, the First Prince. The only sibling Eduardo didn't killed.

He’d crowned the boy as his heir. Adopted them both after the First Prince’s death. After he slaughtered every other sibling to seize the throne.

He did it all- for an empire.

If you ask him about his fiancee, he first saw her in a ballroom. She was only ten, already furious, already dangerous. She had stepped between nobles and her twin brother, Deon, with a glare that could silence storms.

The First Prince, watching, had smiled.

“She will protect Eduardo.”

And so, Deona Hart was engaged to the Ninth Prince. She never objected. She never smiled either.

Not when the First Prince died. Not when Eduardo took the throne. Not even when her family begged Eduardo to spare Deon from war- and were ignored.

When the Duke Stave made a bet with the Demon King and sent Deon Hart to the battlefield at age 14, Eduardo said nothing.

Let the Hart family rot.

Let her have no one else but him.

He expected her silence to continue.

He was wrong.

---

The doors slammed open.

She stormed in. Fourteen now. Dust on her boots. Rage in her eyes. No bow. No greeting.

“Where is my brother?”

Eduardo blinked slowly. The children froze mid-bite.

“Alive. For now,” he answered calmly.

She didn’t shout.
She simply drew a blade and pressed it to her own throat.

Aletea let out a squeak. Elphidius dropped his cup.

“Tell me why you let them send Deon to die,” she said. “Tell me why you ignored my parents’ pleas- or I will kill myself right here.”

Eduardo exhaled, slow and cold.

“Because the Hart family is part of the noble faction. And that faction,” he said, “was always going to fall.”

Silence. Not even the birds dared sing.

Deona’s eyes burned. She lowered the blade.

“This,” she said, voice shaking, “is why I will never love you.”

Eduardo didn’t blink.

“I didn’t care when you killed your brothers and sisters.” “I didn’t care when you adopted your nephew to wear a crown that isn’t yours.” “But you touched my family. You used my brother. My blood.”

She stepped forward. The blade sliced a thin red line across her neck.

“I would rather kill myself than bed you.”

The knife dropped. Clattered to marble.

She turned and walked away.

Eduardo didn’t move. The tea in his hand was still sweet.

But the blood on the floor makes the tea tasted bitter.

---

Time Skip : Eight Years Later

Deon returned to the palace at twenty two.

Thin. Bloody. Eyes like smoke and winter.

He came with a scroll-evidence. A report of deaths, betrayals, and unjust commands from generals under Eduardo’s rule. Names. Sins.

He came to deliver it himself.

In night time where normal people sleep.

He never made it to the throne.

A blade flew from the shadows, aimed clean for his chest.

He barely saw it.

But someone else did.

“DEON!”

Deona.

She was there. She had always been watching. She moved faster than thought. He even doesn't know how she found out he was coming back.

The dagger sank into her chest.

Deon screamed as she collapsed in his arms.

Blood soaked them both. Her eyes fluttered.

“You did it…” she whispered. “You survived.”

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

He sobbed. She smiled.

“Our parents love you too. So does big brother…”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you longer…”

And with one final breath- Deona Hart died in her twin’s arms.

---

Eduardo stood at the end of the hall, frozen.

Her blood ran across the marble toward his feet.

Deon laid the scroll before him. His face a mask of rage and ruin.

“She died because of you.”

Deon's voice didn't shake.
But Eduardo's world did.

“No,” he said.

“She died because she was good. And I was not.”

He knelt beside her body.

His fingers touched the place her blood met his skin.

“You were always fire,” he whispered. “I thought I could keep you in a cage.”

“But you’d rather burn.”

And still, he kept her name on his tongue.

Even after the body was taken.

Even after the empire began to turn on him.

Even after the tea was sweet again.

He drank it bitter.

For her.

Chapter Text

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 1 : 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗘𝗻𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗔𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗱

𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘈𝘨𝘰

The ballroom shimmered with candlelight and ambition.
Silks swayed. Goblets clinked. Nobles danced in dizzying circles, all under the golden gaze of the First Prince- still Crown Prince then- standing at the dais with a smile that knew exactly how this night would end.

Beside him, the Ninth Prince stood quiet. Barely fourteen.
His white gloves immaculate, his back ramrod straight. His eyes, golden-bright, didn’t scan the crowd.
They looked only at the First Prince.
Obedient. Unquestioning.

And just a step to the left of the dais stood a girl in blue and silver.

𝗗𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗮 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝘁.

Only ten, but sharp-edged and unbending. Her hair pinned up against her will. Her spine straight from pride, not training. She stood beside Eduardo like a blade placed on display, beautiful and dangerous.

The First Prince’s voice rang across the hall:

"𝘛𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘕𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘌𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘰 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘵, 𝘵𝘰 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘵."

Applause followed. Delicate, hesitant, then thunderous. Not for love. For strategy.

But Deona didn’t flinch.

She stood there, stiff and still, like she'd been carved from the marble floors themselves.
Her jaw was tight. Her hands clenched into the folds of her skirt. Her eyes flicked sideway- not to the prince now officially her fiancé- but to someone else.

𝗗𝗲𝗼𝗻.

Her twin stood near the edge of the crowd. Quiet. Overlooked. But watching.

She looked at him.
And for a heartbeat, something flickered in her face. Not fear.

𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲.

Because the way Eduardo stared at the First Prince- silent, wide-eyed, wanting- was the same way Deon had looked at their older brother Cruel once.
Eduardo reminded her of her brother.
And she would protect this one, too.

Even if it meant binding herself to a name she did not want.

Deon took a half-step forward when he saw her expression. Subtle. Protective. He brushed her shoulder when he reached her, offering silent comfort.

But inside, he was shaking.

Because he’d seen it before- how she looked at Ninth Prince Eduardo Desert when she thought no one noticed.
It was the same look she gave him when she patched his bruises, when she slipped him bread, when she stood between him and their father’s hand.

She looked at Eduardo like he needed protecting.

It terrified Deon.

---

Across the room, 𝗖𝗿𝘂𝗲𝗹 stood with a wineglass untouched in his hand.

The eldest of the Hart siblings. A boy only thirteen but he have seen politics, and knew what sacrifices looked like.

His expression didn’t flicker during the announcement. But his grip on the glass cracked it near the stem.

Later that night, when the guests had retired and Deona sat alone in the balcony chamber, he found her.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶," 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺.
"𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮."

And Deona, proud even in her quietest hours, only replied:

"𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯."

---

Their mother cried in secret.

Not the loud, wailing sobs of weakness- but the silent, suffocating kind that lived behind clenched jaws and ironed veils. She stood beside her husband during the announcement, lips white, knuckles locked behind her fan.

Their father bowed low before Eduardo afterward. Eyes hollow. Voice low.

“𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵.”

---

The court responded the way it always did:
With whispers dressed as compliments.

“𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺…”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴.”
“𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦? 𝘛𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴.”

---

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 2: 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕'𝒔’ 𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂 𝒕𝒐 𝑬𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒓

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺, 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘴 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘞𝘢𝘳

The room was dim, heavy with smoke and shadow.
Only a single candle flickered on the desk where Eduardo sat- no longer prince, now Emperor- his posture regal and unyielding.

Before him knelt two broken souls:
The Count and Countess of Hart.

His mother’s hands trembled, fingers clutching the folds of her gown, her eyes wet and desperate.

“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘺,” 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨,
“𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘺. 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘊𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳.”

Her husband’s voice was steadier but no less pained.

“𝘞𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥, 𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥,
“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘶𝘴. 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘯.”

Eduardo’s eyes glittered coldly, almost amused by their futile hope.

“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘺, “𝘺𝘦𝘴.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳.”

He leaned back, dismissing them without a second thought.

---

But the engagement-

That remained.

---

In the days after his coronation, when the palace halls hummed with whispered conspiracies and new alliances, Eduardo made one thing clear.

Deona Hart was still his fiancée.

She was the only living legacy the First Prince had left- besides his niece and nephew- two children Eduardo had adopted as his own heirs.

The engagement was a reminder, a claim, and a promise all at once.

She was the last piece of the Hart bloodline he would allow to survive.

---

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 3: 𝑫𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂'𝒔 𝑹𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 - 𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅, 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑺𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆

𝘗𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

The courtyard held its breath.

Guards and servants alike froze, eyes wide, murmurs dying on their tongues.

Blood stained the edge of Deona’s collar, a thin red line on her pale neck - the cut she’d given herself to make Eduardo answer.

Her eyes blazed, fierce and unyielding.

“I warned him,” she said, voice hoarse but steady. “I made him answer.”

She swallowed a sharp breath.

“If he won’t protect my brother... then I’ll do what he will not.”

---

Cruel stormed forward, his anger barely contained.

“You risked everything, Deona! You’re not a soldier!”

But Deona’s glare cut through him like a blade.

---

Their mother’s quiet sobs broke the silence.

“My brave girl…” she whispered, voice trembling, “but you must be careful.”

Her father stood behind her, face grim but relief evident in his eyes.

---

But beneath the surface, Deona’s pain ran deeper than any wound.

She’d thought maybe- just maybe- she could protect Deon.

But it was Eduardo who had stabbed her in the back.

The ache in her chest lingered long after the cut healed.

And when she said she never loved him- she was lying.

That was a secret she will bury with her.

---

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 4: 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝑯𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝑾𝒂𝒓

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘌𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴

The house waited.

Endless halls swallowed the footsteps of those who paced, who lingered, who watched the horizon for any sign.

---

Cruel took the mantle of protector with a grim determination.

He paced restlessly, eyes sharp as he organized defenses and scanned every window, every shadow.

His youthful face hardened by battles unseen.

---

Deona’s fury simmered just beneath her skin, a steady fire that fueled her every breath.

Her loyalty to Deon never wavered.

But the ache in her chest- born from Eduardo’s betrayal-remained a quiet ghost.

---

Their parents grew older before their time.

Lines etched deeper from worry.

Hands trembling as they clutched letters from the front, eyes brimming with silent prayers.

---

Outside the estate walls, whispers spread through the court like poison.

“Deon Hart fights bravely, but the empire’s shadows grow deeper.”

“Deona Hart- silent rebellion against Emperor Eduardo Desert.”

---

The war was not only on the battlefield.

It was here, too, in hearts waiting and watching.

---

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 5: 𝑫𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂’𝒔 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 - 𝑷𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚

𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘕𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘙𝘰𝘰𝘮

The air was sharp with tension.

Light spilled from high windows, cool against the ivory floors. The sounds of boots- Deon’s boots- echoed louder than they should have, step after step, like fate drawing nearer.

He carried the scroll tightly in his hands.

Truth. Evidence. Names that would shatter thrones.

His heart beat like war drums: hope and dread crashing in his chest.

---

He never made it to the throne.

A figure lunged from the shadows- blade drawn, glinting with venom.

Too fast.

Too close.

Too late-

“𝗗𝗘𝗢𝗡!”

She was faster.

---

Deona broke from the corridor like lightning.

Her body collided with his, just as the blade sank into her chest.

The assassin fell dead two breaths later- guards too slow, steel too late- but the damage had already been done.

Blood bloomed across her clothes like ink on silk.

---

Deon caught her, arms shaking, knees buckling as he sank to the floor with her.

“No, no, no-”

She smiled through the pain.

“You did it…” she whispered. “You survived.”

Her fingers brushed his cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Her voice trembled.

“Our parents love you too… So does big brother…”

Her hand slipped something into his palm- a crumpled note.

He opened it with shaking fingers.

“𝗠𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲́𝗲 𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁.
𝗠𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿.”

His tears fell silently onto her face.

“Please don’t go- please, Deona-”

But her breath had already left her body.

---

Eduardo arrived seconds too late.

He stopped in the threshold of the hall.

Deona’s blood had already spilled across the marble… and reached his feet.

He didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

Something in his chest cracked open- ugly, raw, unforgiving.

His hands curled into fists, then opened uselessly at his sides.

His mask broke.

She was gone.

And he hadn’t even been there to stop it.

---

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲 6 : 𝑫𝒆𝒐𝒏’𝒔 𝑩𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

Days after Deona’s death. Rain patters on palace windows. The empire mourns- quietly, falsely.

Deon stood in her old room.

Untouched. Unchanged.

The wind stirred the curtains. The scent of ink and steel and her still lingered.

In his hand, the note she’d left him.
“𝘔𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦́𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵. 𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳.”

He almost tore it in half.

---

“She loved you,” he said aloud- voice low, rough, shaking. Not because Eduardo was in the room. But because no one else would say it.

Not to the Emperor.

Not about Deona.

---

“She loved you, even after what you did.”

His eyes, so like hers, glared with grief too deep to hide.

“She loved you after you ignored our parents’ pleas. After you let me bleed on a battlefield. After you tried to make her yours like she was a prize you earned with a sword.”

Deon laughed. Bitter and sharp.

“She loved you... even when I didn’t know if I would survive another day.”

He turned.

Eyes full of rage. And sorrow. And guilt.

“She died for me. But you? She pitied you.”

---

He dropped the note at Eduardo’s feet.

“She would’ve forgiven you.”

He walked away.

“And that’s why you never deserved her.”

---

𝗘𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁

The throne room was silent.

No nobles. No guards.

Only blood.

Eduardo sat slumped on the imperial throne- his crown lopsided, clothes sticky with his siblings’ blood.

He had killed them.

All of them.

For his brother.

And now he was alone.

---

Until he wasn’t.

Soft, barefoot steps echoed on marble.

She came without sound.

𝗗𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗮.

Younger again.

She didn’t speak.

She never needed to.

She stepped forward, pulled a cloth from her sleeve, and began to wipe the blood from his face.

His cheek.

His mouth.

Beneath his eyes- where tears should’ve been.

Her hands trembled.

And that’s how he knew it wasn’t real.

He blinked-

And woke up.

---

The room was empty.

His face was clean.

Her hands were gone.

But the note remained.

He picked it up. Read it again.

“𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦́𝘦.”

He laughed.

Low. Shaky. Broken.

She always called him that. Even when she hated him. Even when she meant it like a blade to the ribs.

“𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦́𝘦,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘥.

Once, he’d complained.

She had only smirked, tossed her blade into the air, and said:

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”

Gods, he’d been embarrassed.

Now it was all he had left of her.

He folded the note. Tucked it beneath the crooked weight of his crown.

And said nothing.

Because she had already said everything.

---

The tea was sweet.

But he drank it bitter.

𝗙𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿.

And he would live with his sin.

Chapter Text

Eduardo Desert POV

Eduardo didn't mean for it to go this far.

Caver Arut was a bastard. Cold, brilliant, infuriating. They fought over contracts, patents, PR stunts- 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. They’d once gotten into a heated argument over a merger clause and ended with Eduardo pressed against a hotel room wall, grinding against Caver like desperate teenager.

That was supposed to be a one-time lapse. Then a second time happened. Then a third.

Now he was in Caver’s glass walled office on his desk, suit jacket gone, shirt half unbuttoned, tie hanging around his neck like a leash- riding Caver’s cock like he didn’t have a press conference in two hours.

“You’re so noisy today,” Caver drawled, voice silk-wrapped gravel as he gripped Eduardo’s hips and slammed him down again.

Eduardo bit his lip, trying not to cry out again. “Shut… up-”

And then.

The office door opened.

Deon Hart stood there. Model. Problem. Wet dream. The man both of them had been circling for months.

He blinked.

Looked at Eduardo panting, riding Caver like a good whore. Then at Caver- shirt open, calm as ever.

“Deon-!” Eduardo yelped, trying to scramble off.

Caver just yanked him back down, hard.

Eduardo 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥.

The sound echoed. Deon raised a single eyebrow.

“Is this why you called me here?”

Caver didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t you wanna see this cocky, perfect CEO fall apart?”

He slapped Eduardo’s ass. Sharp. Loud. Eduardo gasped, face flushing red, biting his fist to stifle the next moan.

Deon’s lips curved, amusement, something darker, something 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵. “Hmm. True. He was trying to get in my pants last week.”

He stepped forward. Slow. Predatory. “While getting fucked by you? What a whore.”

Eduardo shook his head, words a wreck. “I didn’t- It’s not- I wasn’t-”

Caver pulled him upright by the tie, whispering in his ear, “Then prove you're not. Or let us treat you like one.”

---

The next half hour was blurred.

Sweat. Teeth. Snapped control.

Eduardo was a mess. Whimpering between the two of them, begging and denying it in the same breath.

Deon was velvet cruelty- fingers in Eduardo’s mouth, eyes glittering with amusement. Caver was unrelenting, muttering filth against Eduardo’s throat.

“You like being watched, huh?” Deon said softly, sliding a hand down Eduardo’s chest. “That why you didn’t lock the door?”

Eduardo shook his head, flushed to the roots. “Didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Caver grinned against his neck. “Liar.”

When Deon finally pushed in from behind him, Eduardo 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥.

---

Afterward, Eduardo was curled on the leather couch, hair a mess, legs trembling.

Caver stood by window, shirt undone, poured himself a drink like it was just another boardroom victory.

Deon leaned back against the desk, shirt open, lips smug, one leg crossed. Looking like sin.

Eduardo covered his face. “I hate both of you.” Caver let out amezed chuckle "You came so hard you saw stars.”

Deon added casually like he hadn't just finished fucking Eduardo within an inch of his life few minutes ago “And you were begging me to go deeper, baby. That was cute.”

Eduardo groaned into his palms.

Deon tilted his head, voice sweet as honey.

“So… should we make this a regular meeting? I have Tuesdays open.”

Caver took a long, slow sip. “Merge proposal accepted.”

Eduardo deadpanned “I hate you both.”

Caver and Deon, in sync made Eduardo shut up by this “But you’ll come anyway.”

><><><><><

Caver Arut POV

Caver never planned to want Eduardo.

He was just another obstacle at first another clean-cut, high-polish, headline-grabbing tech darling with a dangerous smile and numbers just close enough to threaten Caver’s crown. He wore his power like silk: soft, beautiful, and sharp enough to cut the throat.

Caver wanted to ruin him.
That was all.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Then came that night.

The first time.

A hotel conference. Too much tension. Too little space. They’d fought sharp words, contract threats, a scuffed laptop slammed shut. Eduardo’s voice had gone high and furious, his hand curled into a fist on the desk.

So Caver kissed him.

Pinned him.

Dragged the fight out with teeth and heat and hands on silk.

He expected resistance. He got a moan.

He expected fury. He got trembling hands pulling him closer.

But what he didn’t expect what Caver still remembered in the quiet moments afterward was Eduardo’s eyes.

Golden.

Wet.

Wide open and shining with something fragile. Shame or surrender or desperate need. His lip caught between his teeth, body twitching, flushed and glassy and wrecked under Caver’s mouth.

And tears.

Tears that clung to his lashes but never fell. The kind you tried to hide even while being split open and laid bare.

That was when it changed.

Caver didn’t want to ruin Eduardo anymore.

He wanted to keep him.

Wanted to see that face again. That trembling jaw. That wrecked sound. Those golden, glassy eyes looking up like Caver was both the end and the rescue.

He wanted to be the only one who got to make Eduardo fall apart.

---

Caver wasn’t stupid- he saw the way Eduardo looked at him afterward, pretending he didn’t.

But he saw something else too:
The way Deon looked at Eduardo like he already knew he’d break him one day.
And the way Deon looked at Caver like he’d enjoy watching it happen.

Eduardo lied with a straight spine and a champagne smile.
He lied in interviews.
He lied to Deon.

But Caver?
Caver had already watched him cry.
He’d already heard Eduardo beg.

And now Eduardo had the audacity to walk into a party less than a day after being fucked open on Caver’s desk wearing high-collared silk like it could cover anything.

Like his thighs weren’t still sore.
Like he hadn’t left nail marks on Caver’s back.
Like he hadn’t sobbed into Caver’s neck with a voice wrecked raw from moaning.

Caver didn’t move.

He watched.

Silent. Still. Smiling just enough to look civilized.

Eduardo laughed at something Deon said. Tilted his head. Touched Deon’s arm with the same hand that had clawed at Caver’s shoulders just hours before.

Caver’s grip on his glass tightened.

“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦- 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳- 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦”

The memory of it echoed in his ears.
Every sound. Every gasp. Every twitch.

And now Eduardo was pretending again.
Smiling like none of it happened.
Leaning into Deon like he was the one doing the hunting.

Fine.

Let him circle Deon like a wolf in silk.

Let him flirt and tease and act untouched.

But the moment Eduardo so much as looked like he was going to lie to Deon’s face-

Caver would ruin him again.

Quiet. Smooth.

With purpose.

---

So when he texted Deon to “drop by,” it wasn’t a trap.

It was a presentation.

A merger in motion.

He made sure of it:

Staff sent home.
Meetings canceled.
Security dismissed except for the first floor, but Eduardo didn’t need to know that.

The only people in the top twenty levels of Arut HQ were Eduardo and Caver.

And soon- Deon.

Because no one deserved to see Eduardo Desert fall apart except Caver.

No interns. No analysts. Not even the cleaning crew.

Eduardo’s unraveling?
Was for Caver’s eyes only.

Deon was the one exception.

Because Deon saw the cracks too.
And Caver- against his better judgment- wanted him to see what Eduardo looked like when he broke.

---

And now, with Eduardo bouncing on his cock, flushed and panting, tie hanging from his neck like a leash-

Now, with Deon standing in the doorway, frozen mid-step, eyes dark with something curious and carnivorous-

Caver saw it again.

Those eyes.
Eduardo’s.

Golden.
Wet.
Widening with shame and panic.

Caver didn’t stop.

Didn’t hesitate.

He just gripped Eduardo’s hips and slammed him down again, making him moan like a desperate thing, helpless and open.

Deon raised a brow. Calm. Curious.

Eduardo tried to speak. “Deon, it’s not' I didn’t- It isn’t-”

Caver leaned in, lips brushing Eduardo’s ear as he asked Deon “Don’t you wanna see this cocky, perfect CEO fall apart?”

He slapped Eduardo’s ass sharply. Eduardo gasped, then choked on a whimper he couldn’t hold back.

Deon stepped closer.

Smiled, half amused, half sharp.

“True,” he said, voice low. “He was trying to get in my pants last week.”

He looked Eduardo up and down.

“While getting fucked by you? What a whore.”

Eduardo trembled.

Caver smiled.

Because this wasn’t about ruining Eduardo anymore.

This was about claiming him.

And now Deon knew just how deep Eduardo had already fallen.

---

Caver Arut didn’t make mistakes.

He planned everything.

And Eduardo Desert- trembling, crying, blushing, wrecked was no longer a target.

He was a possession.

A favorite show.
A curated exhibit.
A beautiful, fragile thing to be broken over and over again.

And Caver would never let him pretend otherwise again.

><><><><><

Deon Hart POV

Deon didn’t want either of them at first.

Caver Arut was a menace in a suit. All teeth and money and deliberate stares across press rooms like he was sizing Deon up for either a campaign or a coffin.

Eduardo Desert was worse.
Too pretty. Too polished. The golden boy of the tech world with his fake modesty and tight smiles.

Deon had no interest in boardroom brats.

Until Eduardo started breaking.

---

He noticed it backstage first. Eduardo, slipping into a gala with perfect hair, fake charm and a hand-shaped bruise blooming under the collar of his white silk shirt.

Then at a press junket, Eduardo’s chair squeaked and he winced just slightly, shifting like his back hurt. Like he’d been bent over something and left aching.

Deon watched. Measured. Waited.

The signs piled up.

Too flushed in the mornings. Hair tousled just a little wrong.
And the worst part-
Eduardo pretending like nothing happened.

Like he hadn’t been ruined.

He’d still flirt with Deon. Still make jokes with that stupid golden sparkle in his eyes. Like he wasn’t walking around freshly fucked and pretending he wasn’t. Like he can and wanted ruin Deon, not other way around.

Deon wanted to laugh. Wanted to ask,

“𝘞𝘩𝘰’𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵?”
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶?”

He should’ve walked away.

But Deon wasn’t made of mercy. He was made of curiosity.

And when he got the text from Caver-

“𝘋𝘳𝘰𝘱 𝘣𝘺. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.”

-he already knew what he’d find.

He just didn’t expect Eduardo to look back at him with those same golden eyes wide and wet.
Didn’t expect him to try to run, then moan when Caver held him down.

Didn’t expect how much he’d love it.

---

And now?

Now Eduardo was lying on Caver’s couch, body limp, mouth swollen, legs still shaking.

Trying to look like he hadn’t just been split open by two men who should’ve never touched him in the first place.

Deon leaned against the desk, bare-chested, watching.

Eduardo covered his eyes. “I hate both of you.”

Deon smiled. “You were trying to fuck me last week while you were already getting ruined by him. That’s bold.”

Eduardo flushed, turning away.

Caver chuckled. “Shame doesn’t suit you.”

Deon hummed. “What does suit him is crying. I liked that.”

He stepped forward, crouched beside the couch, tilting Eduardo’s face toward him.

Deon crouched beside him the couch,brushing his fingers along the bruise blooming on Eduardo’s thigh.

Deon pressed a kiss to the corner of Eduardo’s mouth. Gentle. Possessive.

Then he looked at Caver, who hadn’t said a word- just watching them both like he already knew.

And Deon knew then:

He wasn’t sharing Eduardo out of generosity.

He and Caver were both obsessed.

They’d break him together.

><><><><><

𝗘𝗱𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱.

He knew how to play the game- smile sharp, suit pressed, headlines spinning in his favor.
He sparred with Caver in press releases and flirted with Deon like it didn’t mean anything.

That was the lie.
He 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 it to mean nothing.

But then-
There was the first time with Caver.
That hotel wall. That slick, degrading collapse of pride.

He’d cried. 𝗔𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗱.
And Caver hadn’t mocked him.

He’d looked hungry.

After that, Eduardo told himself it was stress relief. A one-time lapse.
But Caver kept calling. Kept touching him like he owned him.
And Eduardo kept returning, like an idiot, to be bent over desks and bitten until he could barely walk.

And now?

Now Deon was here too.

Eduardo lay boneless on Caver’s office couch, staring at the ceiling like it might offer salvation.

His body ached.
He could still feel them- Caver’s relentless rhythm, Deon’s slow, surgical cruelty.
His legs trembled. His throat was sore.

His pride?
Shattered.

He threw an arm over his face. “I hate both of you.”

Caver only laughed, smug and slow. “You say that every time you come.”

Deon crouched beside him, fingers brushing a bruise forming on Eduardo’s thigh.
“You lied,” he said softly. Velvet. Venom.
“Tried to act untouched. Like you weren’t already ruined.”

He kissed Eduardo’s jaw- gentle, possessive.
“But you 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 me to see it, didn’t you?”

Eduardo shook his head. “You’re both insane.”

He meant to sound defiant.
It came out broken.

Caver stepped in, tilted Eduardo’s chin up with two fingers.

Eduardo didn’t pull away.
He hated that.

Caver looked down at him with that same expression from the first time-
Like Eduardo wasn’t real.
Like he was sacred. Fragile. Something to be 𝗸𝗲𝗽𝘁.

“𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘴.”

Deon didn’t disagree. He stretched out beside him like a lazy predator.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳”

That was when Eduardo understood.

They weren’t just attracted to him.
They weren’t just fucking him.

They were 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 with the way he broke.

And by the time he realized it, it was already too late.

No one could save him.
Not his bodyguards.
Not his PR team.
𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘆.

He’d watched Caver crush competitors like insects just because he 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥.

He’d once admired Deon for tearing apart a billionaire’s entire media network after the man touched him without permission.

That was why Eduardo liked him first.
Why he flirted.
Why he played with fire.

They 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝗺.
𝗪𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗱 him.
Tore him apart with 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

And touched him like they had 𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀.

There was moment- weeks into his mess with Caver Arut- when he meet Cruel Hart.

Deon Hart's older brother.
Ceo of Deons agency.

Cruel looked at Eduardo for long moment, expression unreadable.
Only now he understood it was 𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘺.

Cruel said simply
"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥."

He hadn't been warning him.
He'd been telling the truth.

And by the time Eduardo truly understood what he meant-

He was already 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘴.

𝗚𝗼𝗱𝘀, 𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝘀.

𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭-
𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳,
𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘣.
𝘋𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦.

𝗡𝗼𝘄?

𝗛𝗲 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆’𝗱 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝗶𝗹𝘁- 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱, 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝘆-
𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗶𝗺-
𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝘄𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺.

Chapter Text

1.

Deona *fuming*: "You’re so dumb, it’s like your two brain cells are fighting over who gets third place."

Vale: "Oof, savage- but honestly, kind of accurate.:

Rellia: "Someone’s cranky today. Did you forget to annoy someone?"

Cruel: "Deona, keep that energy directed at our enemies, not my patience."

2.

Deon *genuinely*: "How do you even ask someone out? Like- without dying inside?"

Vale *grinning*: "Easy. Roses are red, violets are blue, you should know my bed has room for two."

Deon *horrified*: "Oh my god, no."

Deona *resting her chin on her hand*: "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream... merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily- I can make you scream."

Vale *choking on his tea*: "I feel like that one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory"

Deon: Vale, you’re supposed to help, not make it worse!

Vale: Hey, sometimes you gotta live dangerously—especially in love!

Rellia *without looking up*: "She once flirted by throwing a knife near someone’s head. This is progress."

Cruel *deadpan*: "Why am I surrounded by psychopaths and hopeless romantics?"

Deona *smirking*: "Speak for yourself."

Deona: "Honestly, if I got that, I’d be curious enough to say yes."

Everyone: "Deona. No!"

3.

Deona *annoyed*: "Stop asking how I pulled Vale and Rellia. I didn’t pull shit. One second I was drinking tea, next second I blinked and I was on someone’s shoulder like-??
Do I look like a sack of rice to you??"
*glares at Vale and Rellia*

Vale *cheerful menace*: "You’re a very bitey, stabby, adorable sack of rice. I’d carry you again." *smirks*

Rellia *cool, calm, dangerously smug*: "You’re light. And you wiggle when you’re mad.
It’s entertaining. I carry what amuses me."

Deona *muttering*: "... I swear I’ll bite both of you."

Cruel *from the corner, sipping something ominous*: "You did. That’s the problem."

Deon *wide-eyed*: "Wait wait wait- YOU let them pick you up?! In public?!"

Deona: "They didn't ask me, Deon. They just- lifted."

Cassius *genuinely*: "What kind of strength training are they on?"

Stigma *grinning too proudly*: "I can carry Cruel, too. Should I demonstrate?"

Cruel: "Touch me and you lose the arm, Primero."

4.

Rellia: "I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant."

Vale: "Well, on a good day I’m both."

Deona: "On a bad day he's still both, just louder."

Cruel: "And somehow shirtless."

Stigma *soft gasp*: "He is shirtless."

Deon: "...Does he even own shirts?"

Vale: "I reject the tyranny of fabric."

5.

Deona *drunk and confused as fuck*: "I don't know if I'm fighting demons or if I am the demon."

Vale *sips coffee*: "Honestly, sometimes I think we’re all just walking horror shows."

Rellia *smirks*: “Either way, just don’t burn the place down, okay?”

Deona *slurs*: “I don’t even know if I’m the hero or the villain anymore. Maybe I’m both, which makes me the ultimate wildcard.”

Cruel *deadpan*: “Of course you are. Nobody else would settle for anything less.”

6.

Deon: "Ok guys. In your opinion, what's the best way into someone's heart?"

Rellia: "Love"

Vale: "His stomach!"

Stigma: "Dogs?"

Deona: "A knife"

Deona: "Stabbed through their heart"

Deona: "Swift death"

Cruel *done with life*: "Charming as always, Deona."

Deon: "Welp, that escalated quickly."

Rellia: "Guess I’m the hopeless romantic here."

Vale: "Stomach’s still winning for me. Food > knives."

Stigma *sighs*: "I’ll stick to dogs. They’re loyal and less messy."

Deona *smirks*: "Dogs don’t have hearts that need winning anyway."

7.

Cruel: "This isn't how I raised you"

Deona: "..."

Deona: "I wasn't aware you'd raised me at all"

Cruel: "That’s fair. I mostly just tried to survive you."

8.

Deona: "She wants to talk about her feelings… I'm not good at that."

[flashback]

Rellia: "I'm just… Feeling so hurt and shocked and I don't know how to react and… Are you climbing out the window?"

Deona *climbing out the window*: "No."

Rellia: "Deona-"

Deona: "I'm just checking for...emotional ventilation."

Rellia: "That’s a window."

Deona: "Feelings need airflow too, Rellia."

[Window slams shut. Silence.]

Rellia: "...I’m dating a flight risk."

9.

Deon: "We're a family. Families talk about things."

Deona: "No. Families ignore things until they go away."

Cruel: "That explains... so much."

Vale: "Can we go back to ignoring things? I liked that phase."

Rellia: "Too late. We're in the 'trauma bonding' arc now."

10.

Deona *nervously, before the funeral*: “I never know what to say to people at funerals.”

Vale *shrugging*: “Just say ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ then move on.”

---

Deona *at the actual funeral, face solemn, voice sincere*: “I’m sorry for your loss. Move on.”

*Stunned silence*

Rellia *covering her mouth to keep from laughing*: “That’s not- That’s not how Vale meant it.”

Cruel *whispering through gritted teeth*: “Deona, I swear to every divine being, you are banned from funerals.”

Eduardo *stoically turning away*: “I cannot be associated with this.”

Deon *awkwardly patting the grieving family*: “What she meant was... we care. Deeply. Really.”

Vale *sipping juice like it’s wine*: “You know what? I’m proud. Technically, she followed instructions.”

Chapter Text

Introduction of this AU

𝗖𝗿𝘂𝗲𝗹 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝘁 (25 y.o) – CEO of Hart Entertainment

Deona calls him 'Orabeoni'.

Role: CEO of Hart Entertainment, a powerhouse entertainment and modeling agency.
Inherited the company after both parents died in a mysterious “accident” in four year ago. (still whispered about in industry corners).
Took over while still in university. Survived on spite and espresso.

Height: 187cm

Company Specialty:

Manages elite influencers, models, bodyguards, and celebrity PR (read: the rest of the cast).

Known for contracts that “ruthlessly protect talent but exploit drama for money.”

Cruel as CEO:

Cold, calculating, sarcastic- but never misses a press call.

Often seen chain-drinking espresso, reading three contracts at once, and threatening to sue someone with a smile.

Keeps a tight leash on Deona’s chaos (fails every time, but tries).

Fires people just to rehire them two hours later with a raise, for “emotional damage.”

Nicknames:

“CEO of Spite”

“Boss Daddy” (Stigma accidentally called him this ONCE on a livestream and fans never let it go)

“The Devil in Prada- But It's Black Leather”

Married to

𝗦𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗺𝗮 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗼 (24 y.o) Celebrity Security Specialist & Head of Hart Bodyguard Division

Deona sometimes calls him 'Saint' (sarcastically)

Role: Head of Security at Hart Entertainment

Height: 190cm

Runs the “Primero Protection Unit” (PPU), an elite division of bodyguards, trained to protect even the most uncooperative chaotic talent (ahem, Deona).

Background:

Former holy knight turned viral martial arts icon, originally from a prestigious private combat academy.

Known for going viral after disarming a knife with a fork on live TV and calmly saying, “Violence is a burden I carry for others.”

Signed by Cruel personally after saving Deon from a fanatical simp with a drone.

Stigma as Head of Security:

6'5 of divine muscles and gentle manners. Opens jars, lifts clients, and breaks bones with equal ease.

Believes in “protecting with kindness and tackling with prayer.”

Refuses to carry guns, but wears five hidden knives, all named after saints.

Fights in full black with silver detailing. People say it’s ceremonial. It’s actually just expensive gymwear.

Nicknames:

“Paladin Daddy”

“The Lift Machine”

“Holy Himbo”

“Hart’s Official Emotional Support Weapon”

---

𝗗𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗮 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝘁- Single (22 y.o)

Role: Occasional Actress, Full-Time Menace at Hart Entertainment

Height: 165cm

Specialization: Stealing scenes, scaring producers, and traumatizing casting directors (emotionally).

Background: Deona never trained formally, but her raw emotional range and razor-sharp instincts make her magnetic on-screen and an actual nightmare off it. She only acts when she feels like it, usually picks roles that emotionally destroy the audience, and once walked out of a casting call because “the script had zero knife energy.”

Albino and unapologetically intense, her presence can’t be ignored. She refuses brand deals unless they offer her free medication or coffee. Her twin, Deon, begged her to do a drama once. She did and then won an award by accident. She didn’t show up to the ceremony. She was asleep.

Known for:

That one monologue from “Bitter Blood, Bitterer Tea” that became a meme and made three celebrities cry

Saying “no comment” at a press conference and then immediately commenting for 45 minutes straight

Playing a war-scarred commander and refusing to wear makeup because “my dark circles are the trauma”

Her infamous live where she screamed: “I'M NOT RARE LAP PIKACHU!!!”

Quote:

“ 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵.”

---

𝗗𝗲𝗼𝗻 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝘁 (twin of Deona Hart)

Deona calls him 'Munchkin' all the time.

Role: Model, Influencer, Makeup Brand Owner, Chaos Twin™

Height: 175cm

Specialization: Ethereal looks, “accidental” thirst traps, and brutally honest GRWM rants.

Background: Deon’s albinism made him stand out from the start- but it was the raw charisma, sass, and inexplicable ability to make anything look expensive that shot him to the top of the modeling scene. His brand mixes high fashion and unapologetic attitude, with ad campaigns that make you question your sexuality and cry in the same breath.

He’s the face of Hart Cosmetics, a brand he co-founded with Deona, though she only shows up to campaigns if bribed with bubble tea. Deon does makeup tutorials that start calm and end with oversharing, trauma-dumping, or calling out Eduardo for wearing last season’s techwear.

Known for:

Going viral for saying “This look says ‘bury me like a god,’ not ‘sweet twink next door’”

His beef with male models who refuse to wear skirts (“cowards”)

That time he walked a runway carrying a sword and winked at the audience

His quote:

“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘢’𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯. 𝘕𝘰, 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯. 𝘌𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺. 𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘋𝘔𝘴.”

Public Reputation: Deon’s both a queer icon and a menace to sponsors. He has one of the highest engagement rates on social media, partially because no one knows what he’ll say next. Cassius is his bodyguard and #1 simp.

Quote:

“𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘻𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘒𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘶𝘱.”

𝗖𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘂𝘀 𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗼𝗿 (22 y.o)

Role: Private Security Instructor | Ex-Military | Deon Hart’s Official™ Bodyguard (and unofficial boyfriend, depending on who you ask- and who’s bleeding)
Specialty: Close-quarters combat, surveillance, silent intimidation. Equal height combat king.

Height: 175 cm (Same as Deon. Equally pretty. Equally terrifying.)

Background:
Former special forces captain turned elite private instructor. Known in the field as “The Wolf in Silk”- precise, quiet, and devastatingly fast. Contracted by Hart family initially for Cruel’s overseas dealings. Ended up permanently stationed by Deon’s side after a bodyguard rotation turned into something… longer.

Known for:

Neutral face that makes grown men nervous.

Pulling Deon out of paparazzi mobs without saying a word, just glaring until the sea parts.

That viral clip of him disarming a knife-wielding fan in under 3 seconds at a fashion show.

Being called “Mr. Warrior” by news anchors during security briefings.

Wearing black gloves like a hitman and then carrying Deon’s bag with the gentleness of a rom-com lead.

Public Image:
Nicknamed “Pretty Grim Reaper” online. Stan Twitter has entire threads dedicated to his silent fights with Vale, and the way Deon loops pinkies with him mid-interview.
Shipping names include:

“WarHart” (Warrior x Deon)

And the cursed: “Violence Twins” when Deona joins them in chaos.

Quote:

“𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘐’𝘮 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦.” Cassius, when someone asked if he felt jealous.

---

𝗘𝗱𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 “How the fuck did I get here” 𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁, 26 year old man who blinked and was suddenly:

Caver's boyfriend,

emotionally adopted by Deona Hart (against his will),

and added to a group chat called 🪓 blood-related & adopted disasters at 3AM without warning.

Role: Tech CEO | Strategic Genius | Confused Every Day | Caver’s Boyfriend | Deona's Emotional Support Twink™

Specialty: Economic warfare, hostile takeovers, and sighing at other people's drama while somehow becoming part of it.

Nickname(s): "Pretty Twink" (by Deona), "My Little Tyrant" (by Caver), “The Smart One (???)” (by confused tabloids)

Height: 190 cm

Occupation: CEO of DesertTech, a sleek, globally dominating tech company specializing in AI, data security, and... absurdly overpriced smart mirrors.

Known For:

Dressing like a Bond villain but crying during Deona’s TikToks.

Complaining nonstop about Hart family chaos- but still showing up with homemade spreadsheets labeled “family healing plan.”

Folding like paper when Caver says "My little tyrant" in a certain voice.

Still checking if he’s dreaming when Deona casually says “You’re mine now, shut up.”

Public Image:
The media originally painted him as Caver's “rival-turned-lover.” Now, he’s known as:

“The Only One With A Brain In That Relationship” (he’s not),

“Deona’s Suffering Bestie” (he didn’t ask for this),

and “Eddy 🥺” in Deon’s livestreams.

Shipping names include:

Cavardo (Caver x Eduardo)

TechnoBondage (yes the fandom is unwell)

Adopted Desert (when people tag him in Hart family content)

Relationship status:
Dating Caver Arut, emotionally adopted by Deona Hart, and vaguely traumatized by Stigma's existence.

Quote:

“𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘋𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘢.”
“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹.”

𝗖𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗔𝗿𝘂𝘁 (26 y.o)

Nickname(s): “Handsome Lunatic” (by Deona), “The Other CEO” (tabloid shade), “THE Red Flag” (by fandom)

Height: 196 cm

Occupation: CEO of Arut Industries, a shady-powerful tech conglomerate known for cybersecurity, drone warfare patents, and suspiciously romantic AI voice assistants.

About: Caver is terrifyingly smart, emotionally unhinged in a very hot way, and built like the final boss of a romance novel. Despite being a supposed corporate villain, he’s somehow... dating Eduardo Desert, his former business rival. No one knows how it started. Not even Eduardo. Caver insists it was “fated by stars and fiscal mergers.”

He calls Deona "Tiny Storm", gifted her an entire self-defense gym for her birthday, and once bit a guy for flirting with Deon. It’s fine. He’s calm now. Sort of.

Personality:

50% 'this is strategic' and 50% 'I did it because I love chaos.’

Genuinely soft for Eduardo, but still threatening the interns.

Competitive with Cruel in everything.

Makes most people feel like prey. Somehow not on purpose.

Relationship status:
Dating Eduardo Desert (aggressively in love), lowkey obsessed with the Hart siblings, especially Deon, who he once called “a pearl in a pit of swine.”
Also might be Stigma’s secret role model but no one’s brave enough to ask.

---

𝗩𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗹 (full name Valentina Caerel but everyone calls him Vale)- ex of Deona but also bff (28 y.o)

- Model under Hart Entertainment. Former idol. Also Deona’s infamous ex.

Height: 180 cm

Role: Walking red flag, tragic heartthrob, the kind of ex you never really delete from your playlist.

Vale debuted as an idol under a small entertainment company- sharp jaw, velvet voice, the kind of presence that made fandoms spiral.

She was 18 and he was 24 when they met. He had a dating ban.

They dated for two years, in stolen moments and chaotic silence. He called her “My Little Curse” with a smile like he was proud of the damage. She called him “Baby,” like she could ruin him in return.
Everything was perfect until dating rumors with Deona Hart leaked.The internet exploded.Then came the breakup. Then came the company kicking him out.

Instead of vanishing, he rose again- as a model under Hart Entertainment, of all places. Now he struts runways like he’s still hers, like they weren’t each other’s undoing.

He never denied loving her. He just stopped admitting it out loud.

Fandom says:
- “He’s the one you never really get over.”
- “My Little Curse?? Get in line, I want to be cursed too.”
- “Turtlenecks should be illegal on him.”
- “He looks at her like he remembers everything.”
- “Deona says she’s single, but we saw the eye contact.”

---

𝗥𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗮 𝗝𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀 also ex of Deona but still bff (27 y.o)
Actress

Height: 185 cm

Relationship: Maggie

Rellia Jones is what you get when perfection decides to stop pretending to be normal. An internationally acclaimed actress with a face sculpted by gods, legs for days, and a voice that turns silence into poetry. She has won three major acting awards, crushed four public feuds without raising her voice, and kissed more girls onscreen than most people have in real life.

Though she once nearly dated Deona, she now refers to Maggie as “the only sane decision I’ve ever made”- while still turning a blind eye to Deona’s chaos like a seasoned war survivor. Calm in the spotlight, sharp in private, and always ready to set someone’s career on fire with a phone call, Rellia is elegance dipped in gasoline.

KNOWN FOR:

Wearing red to other people’s movie premieres and still outshining the lead

Staring silently at Deona when she says “I have an idea”

Carrying a knife in her clutch bag (“For vibes”)

NOW MY NEWEST MEMBER OF THIS CIRCU- I MEAN FAMILY

𝗠𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗶𝗲 𝗦𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗵 (full name Margaret Smith but everyone calls her Maggie) (26 y.o)

Civilian (allegedly)

Height: 165 cm

Relationship: Rellia

Maggie used to be just your average woman with a totally normal job (read: hacker-for-hire). These days, she's known as that mysterious girlfriend of actress Rellia. The media calls her a "private tech consultant," and she lets them. Calm, clever, and terrifyingly good at disappearing, Maggie is the type to smile politely while blackmailing you with your browser history. She claims to be the sane one- but still chooses Rellia and tolerates Deona, so... questionable.