D's Chapter 11 Preview

Heya, don't mind me, I'm just getting these previews out before the end of the month haha

The early access release dates for CH11 are still the same as I announced a while back, but unfortunately, it does look like I'll only be able to release the first half of the chapter on Patreon - basically, only the LI routes. The rest of the chapter will be released together with the public release

So keep that in mind if you want to pledge for early access in August!!

Anyways, here's a look at D's route for CH11, about 1k words in total from 2 separate scenes. I struggled a lot with picking which parts to post for D especially because so much of it is like, filled to the BRIM with spoilers.

 I'll also post A's preview in a bit, but in a separate post for ease of reading:

$dname appears not fully awake, perhaps an aftereffect of the distilled poultices $dthey was given. The royal physician said it would make $dthem fatigued, $dtheir body expending large amounts of energy in order to consume so much magic. 

You keep your questions about $dtheir condition to yourself as you sit down on the edge of $dname’s bed.

$cdthey slowly blinks up at you, dark eyes unfocused as they drift over your face. “$name?” $dthey mumbles, as if confused to see you here.

“Yes, it’s me,” you reply softly. “Can you sit up a little? I need to apply a poultice.” 

$dname hums, eyes slipping shut, and you fear $dthey’s about to fall asleep again. Thankfully, $dthey opens them again, and $then stares at you for a long moment.

“Am I dreaming?” $dthey asks.

The earnest yet dazed question startles a laugh out of you.

“No, you’re not dreaming.” You shift a little closer to $dname on the bed, though it’s to reach the jar of poultice sitting on the nightstand beside it. “I’m here.” 

“To apply medicine?” $dname snorts, closing $dtheir eyes once more. “A likely story.” 

Your hands, reaching out for the poultice, still in mid-air. You cast a glance at $dname’s face, slowly taking the jar from the nightstand, thinking you must be mistaken. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re here because I long for it,” $dname mutters, eyes still closed, oblivious to the effect of $dtheir words on your poor heart. “A dream to soothe me.” 

Your fingers clench around the clay jar, cold against the skin of your palms that seem to be burning. You glow with sudden warmth, from your hands to your whole body, radiating from deep within your chest. 

$cdthey longs for you.

If it were not for the weight of your bones keeping you grounded, you’re certain your spirit would slip out of you and soar into the sky. After the way you parted, it feels like a victory—yet only won after days of fear and dread, of true danger to $dname’s life. 

One you’re reminded of when $dname shifts on the bed, trying to get comfortable and wincing in pain when $dthey jostles $dtheir injured side. $cdtheir brows twitch into a frown, drawing attention to the thin sheen of sweat on $dtheir forehead. 

You refocus on your task, opening the jar and scooping up a bit of poultice with your fingers. “Here, let me help.” 

Reaching beneath the blanket, you gently take $dname’s right wrist, pulling it towards you and turning it over with the inner side of it facing you. 

$dname’s eyes crack open, peering at you from beneath $dtheir lashes as you rub the poultice into the skin above $dtheir pulse in soft, circular motions.

Its effect is almost immediate. 

[...]

IF THE CROWN'S AFFINITY IS BLESSING OF THE SUN

But then you think of Arsur’s Sky. Seeing your homeland beneath it through the eyes of something so vast, so old, so infinitely greater than you. How small it looked, dwarfed by the vast expanse of land and ocean beyond it, surrounding it from every side. Protecting it from a cold and uncaring Void—the Sky is silent and watchful, and it asks for nothing in return.

IF THE CROWN'S AFFINITY IS DEATH OF THE SUN

But then you think of Arsur’s Waters. Winding through your homeland in rivers and marshes, gathering it in its arms that wrap around the coasts and shores from the yearning sea. How it loves you, unconditionally and unquestioningly, embracing you as it embraces all life that it gave birth to. Even if you lose all that you have gained, it will be there, always a home for you.

///

That is its duty.

Never once did you think of duty when you ran for your life, alone and wounded. Taking the throne was always a means of survival, and even then, it has only brought with it new challenges. Things that weigh upon your conscience, keep you up at night.

Yet, despite it all, it has given you purpose.

A slow, quiet realization. You hadn’t even noticed the way it seeped in, burrowing its way into your bones ever since the coronation. For the first time in your life, you feel meant for something, and not merely because the spirits decreed it so.

Fighting it would do nothing but bring both you and Arsur misery. More than anything, to be chosen for this is an immense privilege, an opportunity to do good, to care for those in need. With that comes responsibility, and obligation.

Achingly heavy, but it is yours. 

As you look at $dname, you wonder if that’s what $dthey feels, even if subconsciously. That the reason $dthey clings to this so much is because of $dtheir love for $dtheir home, and the people within it.

Maybe, somewhere over these long years, $dthey has forgotten it. Maybe the shame and the guilt have won out, and now there is only self-punishment.

“Duty should not be so painful,” you say, and though your words are sincere, you feel foolish for it when $dname meets your eyes. $cdthey has served for much longer than you have, and you don’t want $dthem to think you are lecturing $dthem, but you can’t hide your worry for $dthem either.

“Should it not?” $dname smiles faintly, a little wry. 

“Would you ever ask anyone else to sacrifice all that you have?” you say, and the smile fades from $dname’s face. “Would you ever expect that of them?” 

$cdthey doesn’t meet your eyes. “I know myself best. I know I can handle it.” 

“That doesn’t mean you should.”

“It was my fault that I—”

“Ten years ago!” You shake your head in disbelief. “It has been such a long time, $dname. When will it be enough? When will you get to move on, to live your life?”