lianadelune

[lianadelune]

[lianadelune]

the revised version of The Dragon's Lament Chapter 1 is here :D

The Dragon's Lament

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Synospsis: You arrive at the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena Targaryen, your only expectation is a quiet life of courtly duties, a way for you to undo the mistakes of the past. But your world shifts when you capture the attention of Aegon Targaryen, the reckless and reluctant heir to the throne. What begins as distrust and curiosity turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable pull neither of them can resist.

As whispers of war and succession swirl through the castle halls, their connection deepens, defying duty, loyalty, and the weight of the Targaryen name. But the closer they draw to each other, the more the walls close in. Forbidden love in the Red Keep is never without consequence.

In the end, dragons are not undone by steel, but by their own hearts—and Aegon’s will cost him everything.

AO3

The Dragon's Lament Masterlist

Chapter 1

The carriage jolted as it rolled uneven cobblestones, the movement rattling through your bones.

You drew back the curtain, the stale air of the enclosed space giving way to the chaos outside.

King’s Landing was unlike anything you had ever seen. A beast of stone and filth, its veins pulsing with the endless movement of people and carts, its breath thick with the stench tanneries, roasted meat, and the brine of the Blackwater.

The streets swarmed with bodies - merchants shouting over one another, children darting between horses, fishwives balancing baskets on their hips. The cries of gulls mingled with the distant clang of hammers from the forge district, and somewhere, a dog barked, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the city’s restless voice.

For a moment, you found yourself staring at them - the people of King’s Landing, the ones who lived beneath the shadows of the castle’s red walls, who bled and bartered and begged for scraps while the court dined on golden plates.

How many of them had looked up at the Red Keep, as you did now, and felt the same quiet creeping dread? The castle was a thing of monstrous beauty, its towers clawing at the sky like ribs of some great beast buried in the cliffs above the Blackwater. The banners of House Targaryen hung heavy from its walls but instead of the infamous black and red colors, the banner was in a tone of green reminiscent of the Hightowers, still the three headed dragon watched all who passed beneath its gaze.

You wondered what Princess Rhaenyra would think if she saw it.

The carriage slowed, the wheels grinding to a halt before the heavy iron gates. A hush settled over you as the sounds of the city faded, muffled by the sheer presence of the walls surrounding the castle grounds. A guard approached, his armor dull with wear, and exchanged brief words with the driver before stepping aside. The gates groaned open and the carriage lurched forward once more, crossing the threshold into the heart of the dragon’s dent.

The Red Keep’s inner courtyard was a world apart from the city outside - not cleaner, but quieter, a place where the air held a different kind of weight.

You stepped out of the carriage, boots pressing into damp stone.

The castle rose around you in looming red walls, imposing and formidable. The wind carried the scent of cold metal and dying embers, of lavender drifting faintly from unseen gardens, and something richer beneath it all - the scent of old history, thick with the ghosts of kings and queens long dead.

“Lady (Y/n)”

The voice was smooth, practiced.

You turned and found yourself face to face with Ser Criston Cole.

The lord commander of the Kingsguard was as striking as the rumors claimed - dark haired, broad-shouldered, he was neither young nor old, his features carved in quiet discipline, though there was something colder in his gaze than more formality.

“Her Grace is expecting you.”

You dipped your head, swallowing against the dryness of your throat.

“Of course, my lord”

As he turned, leading the way through the castle’s winding corridors, you exhaled slowly.

This was it.

The Red Keep was no longer a story told by firelight.

You were here.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯🐉 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The halls of the Red Keep were steeped in a quiet sort of grandeur, the kind that pressed down on you like a hand against your back, urging you to be more careful, to breathe more softly.

You followed Ser Criston Cole through winding corridors, the sound of your footsteps swallowed by the thick carpets that ran the length of stone floors. Torches flickered in their iron sconces, their glow stretching long shadows across the walls, making the castle feel less like a seat of power- and more like a belly of some slumbering beast.

You had not seen many people in the halls - not yet. Those you had glimpsed were silent figures in the periphery, moving with a purpose, their heads slightly bowed as they passed.

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought they were spirits haunting the Keep.

Even the air felt different here, thick with the scent of bee wax and parchment, as well as the ghosts of something floral - a perfume, perhaps, one that had long since seeped into the very bones of the castle.

A sharp turn, and then-

“Wait here”

Ser Criston stopped before a set of tall wooden doors, their dark surface polished smooth by time and touch. The lord commander did not knock, he did not need to.

Instead, he pushed one door open and stepped inside.

You could not hear what was said beyond the threshold, only the low murmur of voices - one clipped and measured, the other softer, almost hesitant.

“You may enter” you finally heard a feminine voice from the other side of the door, directed towards you, the breath you had not realized you were holding left you in a quiet exhale. You straightened your shoulders, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress before stepping forward, crossing into the presence of the queen.

The solar was spacious but dimly lit, the late afternoon sun filtering through high, narrow windows. A single hearth burned low in the corner, its embers casting faint gold against the stone walls, where a tapestry of one of the many Targaryen conquests hung in muted splendor.

Alicent Hightower sat near the fire, her posture composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Even in the fading light, she was striking - a woman of poise and quiet steel, dressed in the deep green of her house, her auburn hair smoothed into a careful arrangement.

She did not rise when you entered, nor did she beckon you closer, not that you had expected such actions from the queen. She only watched you, measuring you in the way a jeweler would examine a stone with sharp, trained eyes searching for flaws invisible to the untrained eye.

You lowered yourself into a careful curtsy, holding it just long enough to show deference without appearing uncertain.

“Your Grace”

You asked yourself if you should give her your condolences for the death of her husband, the king, but before you could open your mouth to say anything else, the queen’s voice stopped you.

“Lady (Y/n)”

Your name in her voice felt unfamiliar, like a thing stripped bare, weighed for its worth. You waited, knowing better than to speak first.

For a long time, Alicent said nothing, letting you drown in the anxiety of what words would come out of her mouth next, thoughts swirled through your mind while you gripped your dress, something to ground yourself in a better way than the one you were accustomed to which involved biting your nails to the flesh, your remembered how your mother would constantly remind you it was not lady-like to have nails in such condition whenever she looked at your fingers after a particularly bad day.

“You had never been to court before”

A statement, not a question.

“Yet you come from a family of loyal men”

She did not elaborate, but you knew what she meant. Your father, your uncles, your cousins. Men who had long since bent the knee to House Hightower, who had bled for their banners without hesitation.

Men who had never questioned where their duty lay.

“Yes, Your Grace”

A small nod, as if that was the answer she expected.

A silence stretched between you, thin as a blade’s edge. You were tempted to ask why you had been chosen - why, out of all the women she could choose with more experience with court matters, the queen had summoned you specifically.

But you did not.

Because the truth was, it did not matter.

This was an opportunity. A rare one.

And you would not risk ruining it.

So instead, you waited.

You couldn’t help your hands to fidget with the fabric of your dress, it was a simple well-worn dark green dress, something that would not make you forget what was your place in court as your mother had advised, but she had placed some of your best dresses on your luggage just in case you caught the attention of a gentle lord in the castle, your mother never gave up the idea of marrying you even after the incident happened, as she liked to call it.

“You will serve as lady-in-waiting to my daughter, Princess Helaena” Alicent rose from her seat, her steps slow and deliberate as she drifted towards the window. The queen did not spare you a glance, her gaze remained fixed on the endless expanse of the Narrow Sea, where the horizon blurred between water and sky “Do you understand what that entails?”

You hesitated, your fingers stopped fidgeting with your dress, allowing you to think more clearly about this matter.

You knew, in theory, what was expected for a lady-in-waiting - to be a companion, a confidante, to ensure the princess’ needs were met and her days passed with ease. But there was something in the queen’s voice that made you wonder if there was more to it.

“I will attend to her, Your Grace,” you said carefully. “I will offer her companionship and serve her however she requires.”

A slow nod.

“Helaena is…” Alicent paused, choosing her words with the precision of a woman who had spent years weighing each syllable before she spoke it. “She is kind. Gentle. But she’s not… like others”

The gossip you heard about Princess Helaena Targaryen years ago came back to your mind, rumors about the girl with silver hair and distant eyes, who spoke things no one understood and found comfort in places others ignore.

It was a dreary day, you and your cousins decided to spend time in your father’s library, but when you picked a book to read while enjoying the sound of raindrops falling on the stone walls of the state you realized they had different plans in mind.

“... And the princess? She is odd,” one of your cousins had said, a smirk tugging at his lips while he threw himself on one of the armchairs near the fire.

“She talks about things that make no sense,” another added before taking a deep gulp from the wine cup in his hands. “I heard from a maid that she collects insects. Bugs, of all things! She lets them crawl along her hands, even holds them to her lips as if whispering secrets to them”

“Princess Helaena is insane, muttering to herself, speaking in riddles, staring at nothing…” You heard your cousin reach for the fireplace poker as he lowered his voice, as if he was about to share a secret long kept under lock and key. “There are those who think she is cursed. Touched by something unnatural.”

“There’s a reason why they hide her away as much as they can, even her own family keeps distance…”

“Helaena is an embarrassment. A daughter who should have been a prize but instead, she’s a warning of what too much Targaryen blood can do.”

“I mean they are known to marrying their own blood, I’m surprised it took that long for someone as lunatic as Helaena to be born”

Laughter rippled through them, thoughtless, as if their words had no weight. As if they were speaking of some character from a tale rather than a girl of flesh and blood, a girl who breathed and thought and felt.

“Well… they aren’t the only family that have an embarrassment like that”

You remained silent, acutely aware they were talking about you, your cousin’s harsh words pressed into you like the weight of a thousand stones. Your fingers curled around the edges of the book, knuckles whitening as you feigned indifference, the pages crinkled under the pressure of your grip.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to be unaffected, the truth clawed its way into your chest, as if unseen hands had wrapped around your heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until breathing became a laborious task.

You turned your head away ever so slightly, just enough to shield your expression, to keep your pain tucked away behind an indifferent façade. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they had wounded you. You wouldn’t let them see how their words had cut deeper than any blade.

“She is often in her own mind,” Alicent continued, her voice taking you out of your daydreams, her gaze flickering towards you just for a moment. “She does not always see what is in front of her. She does not always listen when she should.”

The queen turned towards you.

“Your duty is to be there for her. To keep her safe.”

Something about the way she said it makes the back of your neck prickle.

“Safe?” you echoed before you could stop yourself.

“The court can be unkind.”

Alicent’s words were simple. Deceptively so.

You understood, then.

She was not speaking of physical danger. Not entirely.

The Dowager Queen was speaking of whispers, of prying eyes, of the way the weak were devoured whole in places like this.

Just like back at your father’s land.

Helaena, for all her royal blood, was not like her brothers.

She was not ruthless.

She had not developed thick skin.

And perhaps, that made her vulnerable in a way her mother would never say aloud.

“Do you accept your duty?” Alicent asked.

Her eyes searched for yours, waiting for a reaction, trying to understand what you were thinking, but your expression remained composed, unreadable, as if carved from stone.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Another pause. Then, a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Good”

It was not praise, but it was approval.

And in the queen’s presence, that was enough.

comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated! ♡

[lianadelune]

revised version of the Dragon's Lament Introduction is here :D

The Dragon's Lament

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Synospsis: You arrive at the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena Targaryen, your only expectation is a quiet life of courtly duties, a way for you to undo the mistakes of the past. But your world shifts when you capture the attention of Aegon Targaryen, the reckless and reluctant heir to the throne. What begins as distrust and curiosity turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable pull neither of them can resist.

As whispers of war and succession swirl through the castle halls, their connection deepens, defying duty, loyalty, and the weight of the Targaryen name. But the closer they draw to each other, the more the walls close in. Forbidden love in the Red Keep is never without consequence.

In the end, dragons are not undone by steel, but by their own hearts—and Aegon’s will cost him everything.

AO3

The Dragon's Lament Masterlist

Introduction

The road to King’s Landing was long, longer than you had anticipated, and the closer the carriage drew to the city, the heavier the air became - thick with the mingling scents of sweat, the metallic tang of fresh blood, and salty sea breeze. The fusion of the smell of seaweed, freshly caught fish and the woody aroma of anchored boats made you frown.

Beyond the thin curtain separating you from the world outside, the restless groan of the city reached you in waves - distant at first, then swelling into something relentless.

You had never seen it before, King’s Landing, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms chosen by Aegon the Conqueror himself, but you had heard the stories, a city of a thousand voices, where power changed hands like a coin, and those who could not keep their footing were swallowed whole without mercy.

It had been your mother’s voice that told you those stories, long ago, when you were still a little girl sitting at her feet with bright eyes full of curiosity, asking for another tale while she sewed.

“The Red Keep is built of old stone and older secrets. If you ever find yourself behind its walls, my love, thread carefully, for the air there is thick with whispers, and queens have sharper teeth than kings.”

You had thought little of her warnings while growing up, considering it just stories told to satisfy a child’s curiosity, besides visiting King’s Landing wasn’t something you had considered before, feeling content to stay at your father’s state until you found a husband but, against your mother and father’s effort, that didn’t happened, making the guilt of your failure eat you alive.

So when the summons arrived without a warning, weeks after the incident happened you were surprised.

Her Grace the Dowager Queen requests the presence of Lady (y/n) at court, to serve in the household of Her Highness, Princess Helaena Targaryen.

You had spent your entire life knowing that the Targaryens were different.

They were more than kings and queens.

They were legends.

They did not rule like other men - they conquered.

The Targaryens came from the ruined city of Valyria, before its destruction, by the virtue of a prophetic vision, when they arrived in Westeros they were different from everything anyone had seen before with their silver hair and purple eyes but most importantly with their dragons.

The same dragons that had carried them from the ashes of Valyria, carried them throughout their conquest and with fire and blood they bent the Seven Kingdoms to their will, unifying the lands under one king, Aegon Targaryen, or as he would be remembered, Aegon the Conqueror.

But what happens to a kingdom once the dragons are chained?

114 years after que conquest, King Viserys I, sat on the Iron Throne before his tragic death not long ago, something that was being kept a secret so far, the only people that knew about the king’s death were the queen herself, her council and noble families she deemed trustworthy to keep such secret.

But even before the passing of Viserys, the court was restless with whispers filling the halls, speaking of a future no one could agree upon.

The king’s chosen heir and first born child with his late wife Aemma Targaryen, Princess Rhaenyra, was beloved by some, people who believed that since Rhaenyra is the rightful successor, breaking this decree dishonors not just the king’s will but the stability of the realm, the princess also presents herself as a capable ambitious ruler. She is considered sharp-minded and politically aware by her supporters, having spent years preparing to rule. But there were those who despised her, people that believed that since Westeros never had a ruling queen, the idea of a woman on the Iron Throne is considered an affront to many lords who believe in male primogeniture, fearing it would weaken the realm. Another aspect that made the princess be hated by some people of the court and commons almost equally was the striking difference between Rhaenyra and her husband, with their pure valyrian blood making them have silver hair and purple eyes, and her children, who have dark hair and dark eyes, many have the certainty that her kids are bastards born from a secret affair, something that make the princess an unfit ruler, as it suggests a disregard for duty and the laws of inheritance. By the virtue of said rumors King Viserys’ first born daughter left the Red Keep and was now living in Dragonstone, another castle that belonged to the crown, with the servants and court members she trusted, as well as her husband and children.

Princess Rhaenyra was the primary person that should not hear about her father’s death considering many believed it was Prince Aegon, King Viserys’ eldest son with his second wife, Alicent Hightower, the now Dowager Queen, who should inherit the throne instead.

As the eldest male heir of Viserys, many believed Aegon’s claim to the Iron Throne is indisputable, following the long-standing tradition of male succession, the prince is also known to mingle among the common people, drinking in their taverns and indulging in their pleasures. Some see this as a sign he understands the realm better than his more aloof sister, Rhaenyra, who has spent her life among nobles. Yet, Aegon is a deeply divisive figure - his flaws are as evident as his strengths, even if some believe that Aegon mingling with the common people was something good, to others his drinking and womanizing meant a lack of discipline, appearing unfit to rule, more interested in pleasures than politics showing his lack of ambition for the throne. Many rumors wandered around that one night in a tavern, the prince himself complained about the burdens of kingship saying ‘My sister is the heir, not me. What sort of brother steals his sister’s birthright?’

But none of it mattered to Queen Alicent who, after King Viserys’ last breath, promptly sent ravens to families her council considered that believed Aegon was the best choice for the Seven Kingdoms.

And your family was one of those who received a raven.

Your father had read the letter the queen sent you weeks after he arrived from the Red Keep where he bent his knee and swore fealty to her son in the name of your family. With a trembling hand he passed the letter to your mother, his mouth set in a grim line.

‘You will go’

‘Why me?’

‘Does it matter?’ His eyes were unreadable ‘The queen has sent for you. You will go’

So you had.

Now, as the city swallowed you whole, you wondered what had drawn Queen Alicent’s gaze to you?

Had she remembered how your father eagerly pledged loyalty to the prince, calling her son the future king? Had she sought a lady with quiet disposition, someone who would not ruffle the delicate balance of the court? Or had she merely plucked a name from a list, indifferent to who you were?

Whatever the reason, it was not your place to question it.

One thing you knew for sure: Where there were dragons, there was fire.

And you certainly weren’t going to be the one to fan the flames.

comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated! ♡

[lianadelune]

Genesis 4:9-12

Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?” “I don’t know,” he replied. “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The Lord said, “What have you done? Listen! Your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground. Now you are under a curse and driven from the ground, which opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from your hand. When you work the ground, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth.

[lianadelune]

Lil' Update

i start a course on creative writting and decided to revise my fanfic "The Dragon's Lament" and changed some aspects, like adding more details, changing the order some scenes but still haven't posted the updates, so please bear with me while i try to make this fic a better reading for you all :D

(also i had to take some time off writting, i was starting to treat writting, something i consider a hobby, as an actual job and was starting to get really stressed about it, especially because i wasn't happy withh my writting, so it may take a while for me to post new chapters, but im trying my best to make this fic enjoyable for anyone reading :D )

(also also i didn't give up from writing "Ma Meilleure Ennemie" or "Golden Bars, Fragile Hearts" i want to continue them but i wasn't very motivated and also because of what i said above but i still want to continue them!!)

[lianadelune]

“do something else” and he did alcoholism

(Aegon version)

[lianadelune]

The Dragon's Lament

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Synospsis: You arrive at the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena Targaryen, your only expectation is a quiet life of courtly duties, a way for you to undo the mistakes of the past. But your world shifts when you capture the attention of Aegon Targaryen, the reckless and reluctant heir to the throne. What begins as distrust and curiosity turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable pull neither of them can resist.

As whispers of war and succession swirl through the castle halls, their connection deepens, defying duty, loyalty, and the weight of the Targaryen name. But the closer they draw to each other, the more the walls close in. Forbidden love in the Red Keep is never without consequence.

In the end, dragons are not undone by steel, but by their own hearts—and Aegon’s will cost him everything.

AO3

The Dragon's Lament Masterlist

Chapter 1

The carriage jolted as it rolled uneven cobblestones, the movement rattling through your bones.

You drew back the curtain, the stale air of the enclosed space giving way to the chaos outside.

King’s Landing was unlike anything you had ever seen. A beast of stone and filth, its veins pulsing with the endless movement of people and carts, its breath thick with the stench tanneries, roasted meat, and the brine of the Blackwater.

The streets swarmed with bodies - merchants shouting over one another, children darting between horses, fishwives balancing baskets on their hips. The cries of gulls mingled with the distant clang of hammers from the forge district, and somewhere, a dog barked, the sound swallowed almost instantly by the city’s restless voice.

For a moment, you found yourself staring at them - the people of King’s Landing, the ones who lived beneath the shadows of the castle’s red walls, who bled and bartered and begged for scraps while the court dined on golden plates.

How many of them had looked up at the Red Keep, as you did now, and felt the same quiet creeping dread? The castle was a thing of monstrous beauty, its towers clawing at the sky like ribs of some great beast buried in the cliffs above the Blackwater. The banners of House Targaryen hung heavy from its walls but instead of the infamous black and red colors, the banner was in a tone of green reminiscent of the Hightowers, still the three headed dragon watched all who passed beneath its gaze.

You wondered what Princess Rhaenyra would think if she saw it.

The carriage slowed, the wheels grinding to a halt before the heavy iron gates. A hush settled over you as the sounds of the city faded, muffled by the sheer presence of the walls surrounding the castle grounds. A guard approached, his armor dull with wear, and exchanged brief words with the driver before stepping aside. The gates groaned open and the carriage lurched forward once more, crossing the threshold into the heart of the dragon’s dent.

The Red Keep’s inner courtyard was a world apart from the city outside - not cleaner, but quieter, a place where the air held a different kind of weight.

You stepped out of the carriage, boots pressing into damp stone.

The castle rose around you in looming red walls, imposing and formidable. The wind carried the scent of cold metal and dying embers, of lavender drifting faintly from unseen gardens, and something richer beneath it all - the scent of old history, thick with the ghosts of kings and queens long dead.

“Lady (Y/n)”

The voice was smooth, practiced.

You turned and found yourself face to face with Ser Criston Cole.

The lord commander of the Kingsguard was as striking as the rumors claimed - dark haired, broad-shouldered, he was neither young nor old, his features carved in quiet discipline, though there was something colder in his gaze than more formality.

“Her Grace is expecting you.”

You dipped your head, swallowing against the dryness of your throat.

“Of course, my lord”

As he turned, leading the way through the castle’s winding corridors, you exhaled slowly.

This was it.

The Red Keep was no longer a story told by firelight.

You were here.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯🐉 ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The halls of the Red Keep were steeped in a quiet sort of grandeur, the kind that pressed down on you like a hand against your back, urging you to be more careful, to breathe more softly.

You followed Ser Criston Cole through winding corridors, the sound of your footsteps swallowed by the thick carpets that ran the length of stone floors. Torches flickered in their iron sconces, their glow stretching long shadows across the walls, making the castle feel less like a seat of power- and more like a belly of some slumbering beast.

You had not seen many people in the halls - not yet. Those you had glimpsed were silent figures in the periphery, moving with a purpose, their heads slightly bowed as they passed.

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought they were spirits haunting the Keep.

Even the air felt different here, thick with the scent of bee wax and parchment, as well as the ghosts of something floral - a perfume, perhaps, one that had long since seeped into the very bones of the castle.

A sharp turn, and then-

“Wait here”

Ser Criston stopped before a set of tall wooden doors, their dark surface polished smooth by time and touch. The lord commander did not knock, he did not need to.

Instead, he pushed one door open and stepped inside.

You could not hear what was said beyond the threshold, only the low murmur of voices - one clipped and measured, the other softer, almost hesitant.

“You may enter” you finally heard a feminine voice from the other side of the door, directed towards you, the breath you had not realized you were holding left you in a quiet exhale. You straightened your shoulders, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress before stepping forward, crossing into the presence of the queen.

The solar was spacious but dimly lit, the late afternoon sun filtering through high, narrow windows. A single hearth burned low in the corner, its embers casting faint gold against the stone walls, where a tapestry of one of the many Targaryen conquests hung in muted splendor.

Alicent Hightower sat near the fire, her posture composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Even in the fading light, she was striking - a woman of poise and quiet steel, dressed in the deep green of her house, her auburn hair smoothed into a careful arrangement.

She did not rise when you entered, nor did she beckon you closer, not that you had expected such actions from the queen. She only watched you, measuring you in the way a jeweler would examine a stone with sharp, trained eyes searching for flaws invisible to the untrained eye.

You lowered yourself into a careful curtsy, holding it just long enough to show deference without appearing uncertain.

“Your Grace”

You asked yourself if you should give her your condolences for the death of her husband, the king, but before you could open your mouth to say anything else, the queen’s voice stopped you.

“Lady (Y/n)”

Your name in her voice felt unfamiliar, like a thing stripped bare, weighed for its worth. You waited, knowing better than to speak first.

For a long time, Alicent said nothing, letting you drown in the anxiety of what words would come out of her mouth next, thoughts swirled through your mind while you gripped your dress, something to ground yourself in a better way than the one you were accustomed to which involved biting your nails to the flesh, your remembered how your mother would constantly remind you it was not lady-like to have nails in such condition whenever she looked at your fingers after a particularly bad day.

“You had never been to court before”

A statement, not a question.

“Yet you come from a family of loyal men”

She did not elaborate, but you knew what she meant. Your father, your uncles, your cousins. Men who had long since bent the knee to House Hightower, who had bled for their banners without hesitation.

Men who had never questioned where their duty lay.

“Yes, Your Grace”

A small nod, as if that was the answer she expected.

A silence stretched between you, thin as a blade’s edge. You were tempted to ask why you had been chosen - why, out of all the women she could choose with more experience with court matters, the queen had summoned you specifically.

But you did not.

Because the truth was, it did not matter.

This was an opportunity. A rare one.

And you would not risk ruining it.

So instead, you waited.

You couldn’t help your hands to fidget with the fabric of your dress, it was a simple well-worn dark green dress, something that would not make you forget what was your place in court as your mother had advised, but she had placed some of your best dresses on your luggage just in case you caught the attention of a gentle lord in the castle, your mother never gave up the idea of marrying you even after the incident happened, as she liked to call it.

“You will serve as lady-in-waiting to my daughter, Princess Helaena” Alicent rose from her seat, her steps slow and deliberate as she drifted towards the window. The queen did not spare you a glance, her gaze remained fixed on the endless expanse of the Narrow Sea, where the horizon blurred between water and sky “Do you understand what that entails?”

You hesitated, your fingers stopped fidgeting with your dress, allowing you to think more clearly about this matter.

You knew, in theory, what was expected for a lady-in-waiting - to be a companion, a confidante, to ensure the princess’ needs were met and her days passed with ease. But there was something in the queen’s voice that made you wonder if there was more to it.

“I will attend to her, Your Grace,” you said carefully. “I will offer her companionship and serve her however she requires.”

A slow nod.

“Helaena is…” Alicent paused, choosing her words with the precision of a woman who had spent years weighing each syllable before she spoke it. “She is kind. Gentle. But she’s not… like others”

The gossip you heard about Princess Helaena Targaryen years ago came back to your mind, rumors about the girl with silver hair and distant eyes, who spoke things no one understood and found comfort in places others ignore.

It was a dreary day, you and your cousins decided to spend time in your father’s library, but when you picked a book to read while enjoying the sound of raindrops falling on the stone walls of the state you realized they had different plans in mind.

“... And the princess? She is odd,” one of your cousins had said, a smirk tugging at his lips while he threw himself on one of the armchairs near the fire.

“She talks about things that make no sense,” another added before taking a deep gulp from the wine cup in his hands. “I heard from a maid that she collects insects. Bugs, of all things! She lets them crawl along her hands, even holds them to her lips as if whispering secrets to them”

“Princess Helaena is insane, muttering to herself, speaking in riddles, staring at nothing…” You heard your cousin reach for the fireplace poker as he lowered his voice, as if he was about to share a secret long kept under lock and key. “There are those who think she is cursed. Touched by something unnatural.”

“There’s a reason why they hide her away as much as they can, even her own family keeps distance…”

“Helaena is an embarrassment. A daughter who should have been a prize but instead, she’s a warning of what too much Targaryen blood can do.”

“I mean they are known to marrying their own blood, I’m surprised it took that long for someone as lunatic as Helaena to be born”

Laughter rippled through them, thoughtless, as if their words had no weight. As if they were speaking of some character from a tale rather than a girl of flesh and blood, a girl who breathed and thought and felt.

“Well… they aren’t the only family that have an embarrassment like that”

You remained silent, acutely aware they were talking about you, your cousin’s harsh words pressed into you like the weight of a thousand stones. Your fingers curled around the edges of the book, knuckles whitening as you feigned indifference, the pages crinkled under the pressure of your grip.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to be unaffected, the truth clawed its way into your chest, as if unseen hands had wrapped around your heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until breathing became a laborious task.

You turned your head away ever so slightly, just enough to shield your expression, to keep your pain tucked away behind an indifferent façade. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they had wounded you. You wouldn’t let them see how their words had cut deeper than any blade.

“She is often in her own mind,” Alicent continued, her voice taking you out of your daydreams, her gaze flickering towards you just for a moment. “She does not always see what is in front of her. She does not always listen when she should.”

The queen turned towards you.

“Your duty is to be there for her. To keep her safe.”

Something about the way she said it makes the back of your neck prickle.

“Safe?” you echoed before you could stop yourself.

“The court can be unkind.”

Alicent’s words were simple. Deceptively so.

You understood, then.

She was not speaking of physical danger. Not entirely.

The Dowager Queen was speaking of whispers, of prying eyes, of the way the weak were devoured whole in places like this.

Just like back at your father’s land.

Helaena, for all her royal blood, was not like her brothers.

She was not ruthless.

She had not developed thick skin.

And perhaps, that made her vulnerable in a way her mother would never say aloud.

“Do you accept your duty?” Alicent asked.

Her eyes searched for yours, waiting for a reaction, trying to understand what you were thinking, but your expression remained composed, unreadable, as if carved from stone.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Another pause. Then, a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Good”

It was not praise, but it was approval.

And in the queen’s presence, that was enough.

comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated! ♡

[lianadelune]

The Dragon's Lament

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Synospsis: You arrive at the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena Targaryen, your only expectation is a quiet life of courtly duties, a way for you to undo the mistakes of the past. But your world shifts when you capture the attention of Aegon Targaryen, the reckless and reluctant heir to the throne. What begins as distrust and curiosity turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable pull neither of them can resist.

As whispers of war and succession swirl through the castle halls, their connection deepens, defying duty, loyalty, and the weight of the Targaryen name. But the closer they draw to each other, the more the walls close in. Forbidden love in the Red Keep is never without consequence.

In the end, dragons are not undone by steel, but by their own hearts—and Aegon’s will cost him everything.

AO3

The Dragon's Lament Masterlist

Introduction

The road to King’s Landing was long, longer than you had anticipated, and the closer the carriage drew to the city, the heavier the air became - thick with the mingling scents of sweat, the metallic tang of fresh blood, and salty sea breeze. The fusion of the smell of seaweed, freshly caught fish and the woody aroma of anchored boats made you frown.

Beyond the thin curtain separating you from the world outside, the restless groan of the city reached you in waves - distant at first, then swelling into something relentless.

You had never seen it before, King’s Landing, the capital of the Seven Kingdoms chosen by Aegon the Conqueror himself, but you had heard the stories, a city of a thousand voices, where power changed hands like a coin, and those who could not keep their footing were swallowed whole without mercy.

It had been your mother’s voice that told you those stories, long ago, when you were still a little girl sitting at her feet with bright eyes full of curiosity, asking for another tale while she sewed.

“The Red Keep is built of old stone and older secrets. If you ever find yourself behind its walls, my love, thread carefully, for the air there is thick with whispers, and queens have sharper teeth than kings.”

You had thought little of her warnings while growing up, considering it just stories told to satisfy a child’s curiosity, besides visiting King’s Landing wasn’t something you had considered before, feeling content to stay at your father’s state until you found a husband but, against your mother and father’s effort, that didn’t happened, making the guilt of your failure eat you alive.

So when the summons arrived without a warning, weeks after the incident happened you were surprised.

Her Grace the Dowager Queen requests the presence of Lady (y/n) at court, to serve in the household of Her Highness, Princess Helaena Targaryen.

You had spent your entire life knowing that the Targaryens were different.

They were more than kings and queens.

They were legends.

They did not rule like other men - they conquered.

The Targaryens came from the ruined city of Valyria, before its destruction, by the virtue of a prophetic vision, when they arrived in Westeros they were different from everything anyone had seen before with their silver hair and purple eyes but most importantly with their dragons.

The same dragons that had carried them from the ashes of Valyria, carried them throughout their conquest and with fire and blood they bent the Seven Kingdoms to their will, unifying the lands under one king, Aegon Targaryen, or as he would be remembered, Aegon the Conqueror.

But what happens to a kingdom once the dragons are chained?

114 years after que conquest, King Viserys I, sat on the Iron Throne before his tragic death not long ago, something that was being kept a secret so far, the only people that knew about the king’s death were the queen herself, her council and noble families she deemed trustworthy to keep such secret.

But even before the passing of Viserys, the court was restless with whispers filling the halls, speaking of a future no one could agree upon.

The king’s chosen heir and first born child with his late wife Aemma Targaryen, Princess Rhaenyra, was beloved by some, people who believed that since Rhaenyra is the rightful successor, breaking this decree dishonors not just the king’s will but the stability of the realm, the princess also presents herself as a capable ambitious ruler. She is considered sharp-minded and politically aware by her supporters, having spent years preparing to rule. But there were those who despised her, people that believed that since Westeros never had a ruling queen, the idea of a woman on the Iron Throne is considered an affront to many lords who believe in male primogeniture, fearing it would weaken the realm. Another aspect that made the princess be hated by some people of the court and commons almost equally was the striking difference between Rhaenyra and her husband, with their pure valyrian blood making them have silver hair and purple eyes, and her children, who have dark hair and dark eyes, many have the certainty that her kids are bastards born from a secret affair, something that make the princess an unfit ruler, as it suggests a disregard for duty and the laws of inheritance. By the virtue of said rumors King Viserys’ first born daughter left the Red Keep and was now living in Dragonstone, another castle that belonged to the crown, with the servants and court members she trusted, as well as her husband and children.

Princess Rhaenyra was the primary person that should not hear about her father’s death considering many believed it was Prince Aegon, King Viserys’ eldest son with his second wife, Alicent Hightower, the now Dowager Queen, who should inherit the throne instead.

As the eldest male heir of Viserys, many believed Aegon’s claim to the Iron Throne is indisputable, following the long-standing tradition of male succession, the prince is also known to mingle among the common people, drinking in their taverns and indulging in their pleasures. Some see this as a sign he understands the realm better than his more aloof sister, Rhaenyra, who has spent her life among nobles. Yet, Aegon is a deeply divisive figure - his flaws are as evident as his strengths, even if some believe that Aegon mingling with the common people was something good, to others his drinking and womanizing meant a lack of discipline, appearing unfit to rule, more interested in pleasures than politics showing his lack of ambition for the throne. Many rumors wandered around that one night in a tavern, the prince himself complained about the burdens of kingship saying ‘My sister is the heir, not me. What sort of brother steals his sister’s birthright?’

But none of it mattered to Queen Alicent who, after King Viserys’ last breath, promptly sent ravens to families her council considered that believed Aegon was the best choice for the Seven Kingdoms.

And your family was one of those who received a raven.

Your father had read the letter the queen sent you weeks after he arrived from the Red Keep where he bent his knee and swore fealty to her son in the name of your family. With a trembling hand he passed the letter to your mother, his mouth set in a grim line.

‘You will go’

‘Why me?’

‘Does it matter?’ His eyes were unreadable ‘The queen has sent for you. You will go’

So you had.

Now, as the city swallowed you whole, you wondered what had drawn Queen Alicent’s gaze to you?

Had she remembered how your father eagerly pledged loyalty to the prince, calling her son the future king? Had she sought a lady with quiet disposition, someone who would not ruffle the delicate balance of the court? Or had she merely plucked a name from a list, indifferent to who you were?

Whatever the reason, it was not your place to question it.

One thing you knew for sure: Where there were dragons, there was fire.

And you certainly weren’t going to be the one to fan the flames.

comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated! ♡

[lianadelune]

The Dragon's Lament

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Synospsis: You arrive at the Red Keep as a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena Targaryen, your only expectation is a quiet life of courtly duties, a way for you to undo the mistakes of the past. But your world shifts when you capture the attention of Aegon Targaryen, the reckless and reluctant heir to the throne. What begins as distrust and curiosity turns into something far more dangerous—an undeniable pull neither of them can resist.

As whispers of war and succession swirl through the castle halls, their connection deepens, defying duty, loyalty, and the weight of the Targaryen name. But the closer they draw to each other, the more the walls close in. Forbidden love in the Red Keep is never without consequence.

In the end, dragons are not undone by steel, but by their own hearts—and Aegon’s will cost him everything.

AO3

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated! ♡

[lianadelune]

Aegon II Targaryen & Gaius Julius Caesar

House of the Dragon, s02e03 Domina, s01e01

[lianadelune]

Aegon II Targaryen & Gaius Julius Caesar

House of the Dragon, s02e01 Domina, s01e02

[lianadelune]

If I was in Asoiaf world, I would become a lady knight just so I can win tourney to grant him the flower crown and name him the king of love and beauty.

Might as well write that idea

[lianadelune]

golden bars, fragile hearts

pairing: caracalla x reader

part 1 | part 2 | this is part 3 !

the weight of your new role settled on your shoulders like an iron yoke as you stood at the threshold of the emperor’s private quarters once again. the scent of spiced wine and aged parchment clung to the air, mingling with the faint aroma of burning myrrh. servants hurried past you in silence, their eyes carefully averted as they placed trays of fruit, roasted meat and fresh bread on the long table.

your stomach was tight with nerves, your hands twisted and turned the fabric of your dress trying to ease your nerves, you had long bitten your nails to the quick long ago but still it didn’t help your nervousness.

your first morning as caracalla’s personal servant had been spent memorizing his schedule, learning his preferences, and understanding the unspoken rules that governed the palace, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment you would finally step into his presence as more than just another nameless servant in the background.

you entered his chambers with wobbly legs, trying your best to not fall on your face in front of the emperor of rome, the emperor that could decapitate you for something as simple as tripping. caracalla was standing near the large table where his meal had been laid out. his back was to you, broad shoulders covered in a deep crimson tunic, gold embroidery catching the light from the torches. his ginger hair was still damp from his bath, you noticed how it curled slightly at the ends.

he didn’t acknowledge you at first, his focus was on a series of documents spread before him that he was clearly not paying attention to.

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

another servant had already poured his wine, but no one dared to approach him directly yet.

that was your responsibility now.

you stepped forward, careful to not make a sound.

“dominus”, you said softly, thanking the gods your voice didn’t shake.

his head lifted slightly, but he did not turn. “you are late”

your fingers curled at your sides. you had arrived precisely when instructed, but you knew better than to argue. “forgive me”

a long pause.

then, he finally turned.

his blue eyes swept over you, slow and assessing, as if deciding wheter or not you were worth his attention. the air felt heavier under his scrutiny.

“you are to serve me now,” he stated, as if you were unaware. his voice was calm but carried the waight of authority. “that means you’ll anticipate my needs before i voice them. you will fetch my meals, clean my chambers and follow my orders without question. do you understand?”

you swallowed and nodded “yes, dominus”

caracalla’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before he took a seat at the table.

he gestured toward the plate in front of him, the movement almost lazy.

“serve me”

you hesitated only for a second before stepping forward, picking up the carved knife to cut slices of meat for him. your hands were not as steady as you would like as you carefully arranged the portions as you have been taught.

he watched you the entire time.

you could feel his gaze like a physical touch, studying your every movement, searching for anything that could be considered a mistake.

you moved next to pour his wine, carefully to not spill a single drop feeling his eyes on you the entire time, you wanted to snap at him asking why was he staring at you so hard, but you knew if you lost your composure it was the last thing you would say in this life.

“you are quiet”, he observed.

“i was told to be”

his lips curved slightly - something that was not quite a smirk, but now a smile either.

“and if i told you to speak?”

you set the wine jug down and met his gaze “then i would”

a beat of silence.

then, he laughed.

your eyes widened with the sound.

it was low and brief, but it was there, you remember seeing caracalla smile and yell at the gladiator fights but never saw him actually laugh like this. amusement flickered across his face, though his eyes remained unreadable.

“interesting,” he murmured, taking a sip of his wine.

you stood at his side taking a deep breath, hands clasped before you, waiting for his next command.

caracalla continued eating in silence for a time while the other servants left the room in a hurry, and you thought - perhaps - this would be easier than you had feared.

but then, without warning, his voice cut through the silence.

“by all means please talk”

“dominus?” you asked, confused, wondering if you had heard him properly.

“i would like to know what you are thinking” he looked back at you, his gaze darkened, curiosity sharpened into something more dangerous.

surely he was teasing you, you thought with yourself, but refused to back down.

“what do you truly want from me?”

“that remains to be seen” caracalla looked right into your eyes with a cold, calculating expression as if he already had plans for you in his mind but refused to share whatever it is that he was thinking “you intrigue me. few would dare to stand against me in my own arena. fewer still would survive it”

“i didn’t do it for you,” you snapped, regretting saying anything as soon as you finished the sentence.

“no,” he said softly after taking a sip of his wine, something that surprised you, you had heard of servants that had been killed for far less. “you did it for him. a noble act, but noble acts don’t last long in rome. you’ll learn that soon enough”

the scent of roasting meats and spiced wine thickened the air as you stepped through the palace corridors, walking just behind caracalla as you made your way toward the senate chambers. the usual quiet dignity of the imperial halls had been overtaken by a restless energy. servants rushed past carrying baskets of fresh fruits, their arms hurried with bolts of silk and gold-threaded linens, their footsteps muffled by the marble floors.

in the distance, you could hear the rhythmic clang of trays being arranged, but sharp bark of a steward chastising a cook, and the hurried whispers of palace officials ensuring every detail of the banquet was in place. a group of musicians stood in the corner of the hall, arguing over which instruments would be most fitting for the evening’s revelry.

caracalla, unfazed by the chaos, strode forward with his usual confident gait, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. you kept pace beside him, feeling the weight of curious glances from the passing servants.

as you reached the grand atrium, you passed a row of slaves arranging goblets of silver and gold, each one meant for a guest of high status. the senate would be there, the generals, the noble families - all called upon to indulge in the emperor’s excess. you couldn’t help but wonder if this feast was just another display of power, a reminder of rome’s decadence under its rulers.

caracalla suddenly glanced at you. “you’re quiet. i told you before i want you to speak freely in my presence”

you turned your head slightly. “just watching everything unfold.”

he smirked. “does it amuse you to see the city scramble at my whim?”

you hesitated. “it’s… impressive, how quickly they obey. but i can’t help but think - this much excess, all for one night?”

his smirk didn’t fade, but something in his gaze darkened. “luxury is a reminder. the people must see our power, not just hear of it. a hungry rome is a dangerous rome, but a rome drowning in wine and pleasure? that’s a city that forgets to rebel.”

you look away, your gaze falling on the golden torches lining the walls, their flames flickering in the midday light. you wanted to tell him that the senate and the nobles weren’t the only ones he needed to worry about, his people had been living with the bare minimum for years and you didn’t know for how much longer they would accept to live like that, the riots were getting worse for months now, it would come a time when gladiator fights wouldn’t be enough to placate the anger, but you tightened your lips and didn’t utter a word.

tonight, the palace would be a different place - filled with laughter, music, and indulgence.

but beneath it all, the weight of the empire remained.

the senate doors loomed ahead, their towering bronze surface marked with the scars of time. as the guards pulled them open, the sounds of hurried banquet preparations faded behind them, replaced by the solemn murmurs of politics and power.

the empire feasted tonight, but first it ruled.

for the rest of the day you followed caracalla between meetings with the senate, always pouring wine before his cup was empty to calm his nerves and anxious demeanor obviously excited for the feast, to his shared office with his twin brother.

the office was filled with the scent of ink and parchment, the air thick with the weight of unfinished work. scrolls and wax-sealed documents were stacked high on geta’s desk, a sharp contrast to the clear space on caracalla’s side, where only a goblet of wine sat untouched. the afternoon sun streamed through open archways, casting long shadows across the marble floors as you stood quietly to the side, awaiting instruction.

caracalla, sprawled in his chair, drummed his fingers against the armrest, his thoughts nowhere near the office matters at hand. Instead, his blue eyes gleamed with restless anticipation. “the feast will be grand,” he mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. “the best wine, the rarest meats… people will talk about it for months.”

geta, hunched over a document, let out an exasperated sigh. “yes, brother. we have already established that. perhaps now, we could actually do the work required to keep this empire from crumbling beneath us?” he gestured to the untouched stack of decrees “or is your mind too occupied with indulgences?”

caracalla scoffed, waving a dismissive hand “indulgences keep rome entertained. a distracted people do not plot rebellion”

“they also do not run an empire” geta pinched the bridge of his nose before shooting a glance toward you, who had remained silent, observing the exchange “how do you tolerate him talking about this damn feast all day?”

you blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the question.

“it is not my place to comment, your highness”, you answered carefully.

caracalla smirked.

“a wise response” he turned back to his brother. “besides, the banquet is important. there will be generals there, senators - people who need reminders of where their loyalty should lie.”

geta exhaled, clearly at the end of his patience. “and what of these orders from the provinces? we have shortage of grain in the east, uprisings in germania-”

“handled,” caracalla interrupted, his tone growing sharp. “the legions have been sent. the governors will do as they are commanded”

geta gave him a long, scrutinizing look. “you are playing a dangerous game, brother. you indulge yourself while the world waits for an opportunity to strike”

caracalla merely leaned back, tilting his head towards you. “tell me, do they look concerned?”

you stiffened under their attention, but caracalla’s gaze remained unwavering. “they are quiet because they listen unlike half the fools in the senate,” he mused. “they observe, weights the worth of words before they speak. a trait more valuable than most realize.”

caracalla smirked and turned towards you.

“tell me,” he mused, “would you not enjoy such a sight? music, dancers, the kind of celebration that reminds people why we rule and they serve?”

you hesitated, considering your words, caracalla had told you before he wanted to know what you got to say, but what if he doesn’t like your words? would he throw you in the coliseum and laugh while you fight for your life? but there was an expectation in his gaze, as if he truly cared for your answer.

“i think… grandeur has its place,” you said carefully, “but there’s more to ruling than feasts”

geta chuckled, finally looking up. “they have more sense than you, brother”

caracalla waved him off. “sense is for men with dull lives. i prefer to live as the gods intended - without restraint.” he turned to you once again “you’ll see tonight. this will be a banquet worthy of rome.”

geta sighed and resumed his work, muttering about wasted resources and the absurdity of last-minute preparations, but caracalla was relentless, continuing to revel in his own plans, detailing every extravagant element of the evening.

not long after that the discussion shifted. geta brought up matters of state, affairs of war, and the ongoing tensions in the senate. his tone grew more serious, and with it, so did his expression.

“this is not a discussion for servants,” geta stated, still looking at the papers in front of him. “leave us”

before you could move, caracalla’s voice rang out.

“they stay”

geta’s eyes narrowed, as if he couldn’t believe his brother was against him in this matter. you froze in place.

“they are my personal servant” caracalla continued, emphasizing the word ‘my’ in a way that left no room for argument. “they hear what i hear, and they speak to no one but me.”

there was a finality in his words, an unspoken warning that even geta would not challenge in this moment. but it did not go unnoticed.

geta’s eyes flickered between his brother and you, studying caracalla carefully, his sharp mind piecing things together.

the possessiveness. the attention. the way caracalla’s eyes softened when he looked at you.

it was subtle, but geta had always been the more perceptive of the two. and now, he saw something caracalla had yet to recognize himself.

‘interesting’ the younger twin thought.

geta did not speak his suspicions aloud. not yet. instead, he merely gave a small smirk, a silent promise to himself.

he would be watching.

[lianadelune]

I guess my type is emperor/king, with severe mommy issues, jealous of their eldest sibling, killed their sibling, is a manwhore, an unhinged personality, got abruptly killed by their own men, entitled man-child, has a pet they cherish, and probably has syphilis

[lianadelune]

"I think both Geta and Caracalla, they have a desperation, they have a real need that's been completely unmet. They want to be taken care of somehow, and that doesn't help or positively affect how they're ruining the empire since they are leaders, but I think there's a part of him and a part of them that just want to be sort of held."

- Fred Hechinger on Geta & Caracalla: CinemaBlend

[lianadelune]

Are we going to get any more chapters of ma meilleure ennemie?

yess!! probably by the end of next week when i start my vacation, i still need to edit the next 2 chapters so by then i'll have finished my exams and will have more time to write :D