#✕··· ❛ the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her and became the queen ❜ ⸢margo hanson ¦ alice quinn ⸥

[goth-iqqa]

BLAME THE ROSES

Prologue— Death To The Green Queen

18+ MDI

Life can only be paid with death. After the demise of Princess Alysanne, a cursed couple brings forth a new life across the Narrow Sea, unbeknownst to the war approaching.

Daemon × Fem!reader, Aegon II × reader

Warnings: angst, cheating, smut, neglect, violence, death/gore. mentions of suicide. kidnapping. dub con, non con, (Targ)incest, pregnancy, miscarriage.

AFTER IT ALL HAPPENED, Alysanne Targaryen declared an apology to the ashes of the fallen soldiers. On both sides, the black roots and the green stems of the bloodied garden her once home turned. There was nothing left, the lords had whispered, nothing but war in the wake of her husband’s name. Thorns of gore that would pierce into cadavers and shells of empty lives and unnamed graves.

“Prince Aegon The Younger must be crowned.”

It was not a tragedy when King Aegon was found, deathly still, and sweet Arbor red on his lips. His skin was strangely yellow, swelling and decaying under the delicate touch of his beloved wife. Alysanne, the Saddened Queen, cried and called for The Stranger, pleading a moment for a woman and a dying lover.

There had been quietness, maesters often said to their pupils. The room was made up of only a pitiful queen, a grasping king, and the claws of a growing shadow tempting the soul from its twisted body. At exactly midnight, when the Dire Wolves in Winterfell howled and the giant cats of striped colors roared, and the grounds of the castle shook, it was confirmed King Aegon II had made touch with death and what lurked beneath the veil.

By morning the candles had blazed to mere specs of wax, yet Queen Alysanne remained unburnt. When the sun peeked through the windows and the empty body of the late King began to blister, she remained. Hand in hand, she cried, mourned like the deaths before of all her line, innocent and guilty alike. Seven nights and seven risings did she stay, the books and medical servant knew the dating was far from precise, Alysanne rose from her bruised knees, and along she took the last touch of the usurper king.

While servants whispered of the things that happened during the secret decay of the king, it was only true that bare parts could be used for a proper burial. The Queen had not truly cried for his death, nor had she turned to black magic to keep her lover alive and hidden in her chambers, or the constant presence of a certain yellow tint of the Manmo Island princess. It was foolery. In truth, as Maesters came to know, after the beheading of the Grand Maester, King Aegon’s body decomposed and exploded in a series of fluids and flesh, finally fusing into the mattress they had burned, all while his wife watched.

A death, unpeaceful and macabre, worthy of the man Aegon II Targaryen was at the end.

When the news of the king’s passing spread, ships of high houses and low-borns of the city all stormed the gates of King’s Landing, bending the knee and hailing their new King. Alysanne, a widow, was not to be seen for another seven nights, her chambers remained empty and untouched, and her dragon no longer roared and shook the sky with his wings. She was a walking corpse, hiding in the shadows, expecting her punishment when a raven from Winterfell arrived at her window.

“Do not ill yourself with sorrow. I was pardoned from death,”

The golden piece of a horse was moved across the checkerboard, just like it had in real life with dragons and ships, outside the room now meant to imprison one of the former queens. Alysanne, dressed in green, like the title had once again sowed and the green stone tethered to her finger with the voice of her husband’s last wishes, sat across Alicent Hightower, somber features of tiredness glinted across her eyes and her mouth continued to move. “I was not pardoned from punishment, however. I am to return to Manmo, and face the consequences of my past actions.”

“As Y/N Endo or Princess Alysanne?”

It was often that their relationship was mistaken. Had the first season come, cool and colorful with blooms in the garden King Viserys sent to be made for her, both widowed queens found themselves under the weak streams of light. Cordial and pacific as they played a humble game of chess, learned by the glued words of their fathers. When the unbearable heat came, and all the summer colors adorned the streets as they did in Dornish lands, they enjoyed a cool tea prepared by the shaky hands of servants, and they spoke, cruelly to each other, of their husbands and their poor jobs as wives to satisfy them.

When the leaves of the giant trees fell, and their sons trained with sand dummies, they did not speak to each other. Servants assumed they fought again, their screams and shouts shushed by the pit-and-patter of soothing rain. Only to be lulled away when the cold wind came and their dresses exploded with rows of skirts for the short-lived winter. They ate and laughed together, dressed in the same shade, for a day, when the lords of their husbands’ council met.

A black root and a green stem, united by the complicated world painted by the men who cared for nothing but titles and wealth.

“Will they…kill you?”

“I am sure of it.”

A white knight moved this time. “They cannot harm the aunt of the King—a queen, you were a queen. They cannot, they cannot do this, they cannot kill you. You must speak to Lord Cregan, you cannot leave.”

Alicent’s face had grown mournful through the years, witnessing death after death of the children she squeezed out of duty, caged in the castle like a simple servant of no name. But now, even after all the slaughter the color green brought, her eyes brimmed red and the whites glossed with tears for a girl she’d grown to like in her days of confinement. The only face that held a smile when she stepped forward, brushing servants off, and keeping the ailing widow company.

“We are cursed. The moment we were born,”

A black knight neared close to the white queen.

“We were granted suffering and despair. Arranged to be bred like cattle for a title that will not follow after death. I was happy, for a few moments at least. I was given a life that veiled the bad with the sweet scent of roses.”

Alicent smiled, for the first time. “Red roses have always been your favorite. Even when you hurt yourself with the thorns, you called them beautiful.”

“I have to thank you, Alicent. It was because of you—everything you have done under another’s tame—that I am here. All the bad things that happened, all the deaths a simple crown and a throne of swords have caused. Everything has led me to this point, my own punishment, in a way.”

When the black queen moved toward the cornered white king, Alicent shivered as she knew she lost. “Your punishment? Was betraying your husband not enough?”

“I loved the man you birthed, not the king he became. He made me bloom, even when I thought I’d died. When a smile never came, he made me laugh like no other. Even when he drank past his limits and crawled with apologies, and fell in love with princess Alysanne instead of Y/N, I kept my promise till his last breath.”

Alysanne removed the ring from her finger. The Green Jewel of the Sad Queen, maesters would come to name it, was given to the new mother as a present for the pair of healthy heirs. It was now soiled, tainted by the rusty smell of blood that soaked into the creases of her hands.

It was a reminder. Nobody but her and the dead uncle she once loved knew of the painful ropes that tightened around Y/N Endo’s neck, only to be shielded by the golden rows of pearls that decorated princess Alysanne's own. The voice of the woman she once knew, dancing in her head, trapped like a curse meant to claim the lives of the ones she loved. She would break the chains, once and for all.

“I’ve died nine times. Princess Alysanne died many years ago. Y/N Endo was killed by the people she loved. Now, my final death has come, at last.” She pushed the ring into the waiting hand of the eldest, “I am not allowed to see my daughter before my leave. She will come to see you, I’m sure of it. When she does, give it to her. She must know I will always love her. She must, Alicent.”

Alicent nodded with a silent promise.

After a checkmate, princess Alysanne exposed her left arm, yellow and swelling. Alicent gasped, she rose from her seat and jerked away from her dying stepdaughter.

“I won’t let any of them have my glory.”

0 1

[chromiumagellanic06]

The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen/Original Fem [Targaryen] Character

Chapter 13: Brilliant

MASTERLIST

Summary: Naera has a vision. Unrealistic erotica. An uncomfortable family breakfast.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, incest, dom/sub dynamics (very minor?), cunnilingus, creampie,

Long, flowing golden hair, tossing in the wind, in the darkness, in the light. Twin braids, that crept from a brow and behind. A face most carefully made, with the right shades, and the correct lights, with a long nose and a beauty all in all, with the most splendid expressions ever seen. Curls and spins and winds rolled down her shoulders, below a crested necklace of pure gold.

Her chin was held high, her eyes narrowed gracefully, her lips curved in a smirk only described as superior, stained with wine.

Pride.

Then, lower, and lower, and she wore satins and silks of the finest merchants. There was red, and gold, and a southern-styled gown, with sinking sleeves and bared shoulders, and flurries of curves and height to it all. There was gold, jewels, and intricacy in her.

Wealth.

A crown, of iron and gold, crested with blood, adorned with ash and rubies, winding through the hair of dark suns. The woman was dressed in red, with a crown of gold. Banners hung behind her—banners of velvet, with an adorned lion roaring through.

Regal.

“Do you know why all the world hates a Lannister?” A Dornish accent, aged and experienced, mocking and untethered. A Martell's voice.

Lannister.

House Lannister.

Golden lions.

The Queen?

No.

House Lannister. Golden Lions. The Usurper Queen.

Usurper. A Usurper King?

A running stag, running through fires and despairs, and blood and grime and fallen worlds. Ours is the fury.

Baratheon. Lord of Storm’s End. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. The Usurper King. The Sack of King’s Landing. A Targaryen Bastard.

A child’s cries, screeches, a woman’s wails, a towering mountain, and the ringing of steel blades being drawn, and silence.

The Fall of the Dragon. The End of their reign, destroyed by their own blood. 

No.

The Dragon does not answer the Lion. The Dragon does not answer the Stag.

The Dragon burns them all alike.

Fire. The screech of a Dragon, the flapping of wings, great, dark, horrendous wings. One, two, three—obsidian and red, green and bronze, gold and cream. There shall be flames. There shall be blood. There shall be the age of dragons, returned, with a great, wakening light.

Dracarys.

Red stone, red foundations, and flags of red and gold and lions, all burned, and all fell.

There.

The Conqueror—silver hair, braids, and braids, and braids, and the neighing of a thousand horses, and the singular stepping of ten thousand marching soldiers, and on, and on.

There.

The Age of the Dragon.

Flags the colour of ash, with luminescent crests of blood-red dragons, being drawn over the ruins of the palace that once was. A throne made of swords, melted and moulded to never grant any sort of comfort, any sort of support. A King must never sit easy. A Queen must never sit easy, and yet, the Dragon Queen sat atop it with a grace unseen, and a state of completion unknown. A Queen must never sit easy, and yet, the Targaryen Conqueror sat atop the Iron Throne as though she was borne to do it. Indeed, she was. She was the blood of the dragon, and all knelt before her—wolves, eagles, stags, and lions, and even the very sun, the rose, and all that mattered. Even darkness, even death, ever devastation knelt before the conqueror.

Darkness knelt before the Conqueror.

No.

Darkness knelt before Azor Ahai, the forsaken warrior who tempered his own will in the blood and death of his lover. The warrior who ended the long night, the darkest winter, the coldest eternity.

The Conqueror was Azor Ahai.

Naera opened her eyes with a start.

She saw light, white and yellow and green, and a sky the colour of the sea. It was boundless, rolling on, and on, and on, forever, and then some more, behind the edges of the grassy hills. Grass, green and fresh and fragrant, rolled for miles, and acres in every direction, beneath the boundless skies.

Naera sat in a dress the colour of clouds, one that was loose and light. She was staring up at the skies, blue, blue, and blue, and her eyes made funny images of small translucent circles running through and past the skies. A hand reached forth, curled a strand of her silver hair and brushed it away.

Daemon sat behind her, holding her, kissing her, breathing her. His hands were wrapped solidly around her waist, his head carefully placed on her shoulder, and every breath of his taking send shivers down her spine.

“Are you awake yet?” He seemed to ask, hands drawling up, and down her front, her stomach, her breasts. Naera felt lethargic, as though someone had sedated her, tired her, and lazed her away.

"Hmm?” And she let him venture lower with his hands, crawling down to the hem of her dress and slowly, tantalizingly slow, dragging it up to her knees. His hands settled on her thighs, running small circles on her skin that made her throw back her head and sigh. One of his heavy palms crept back up, catching hold of her breast.

“You haven’t answered my question, Naera,” and through his dulcet voice, she felt heat, burning and boiling and toiling, build up from her core. Daemon pressed a kiss to her neck, and his hands found her cunt. Naera moaned, whimpered, really, and he drank it away as though it was his elixir. He set a single finger within her, revelling at how wet she was already, and breathed against her neck, again, in a way that made her wish to jump out of her skin and devour him all the same.

“What question?” And the sun burned warm along her face, her skin, her bones, but Daemon’s touch felt warmer, hotter and more refined than the sun. She heard him chuckle, a low, rumbling sound that travelled down her chest in waves.

“Are you awake?” She felt warm, warmer, and warmest, and Daemon kept on his actions. He curled one, or two fingers within her, circling her clit with his thumb, arduously slow, but it had all the same impact. Naera still thundered out a wheeze and a moan, but her eyes felt heavier and heavier. He repeated his words, the tune only adding to her ecstasy. He really did have a brilliant voice.

Wait.

“What d’you mean awake?” Naera felt cold, cold sheets, cold blankets, cold air, all over her, all around her. She sat up, fighting through the pain and heaviness in her limbs, to witness the light and airiness of chambers which were very certainly not hers. The sheets weren’t hers, there weren’t enough papers for these to be her quarters at all, and it was—oh, Daemon sat next to her, gazing at her with impertinence. Oh, and Naera cursed her first thought as having been carnal. His hair glowed in the morning light, and his eyes, and his—He had a brilliant voice, among many other brilliant things.

“There you go,” and his voice made her core warm up all over again, “You’re awake.” Daemon leaned forward, past the mess of silver hair, to press a kiss on her cheek, and her lips. Mistake, for the simple action made her clutch onto his neck, hot, heavy and reflexive, with a soul-crushing kiss. He did not refuse, of course—how could he refuse his dear niece? –and held her shoulders, driving her back onto the mattress. “Awake and eager,” he taunted against her lips, hands running across her bare body with blistering passion.

Naera wanted to taunt back, something along the lines of can’t say I’m the only one eager, or can you blame me? Yet, the words did not come that easily when her mind felt dazed with lust. Lust, for Daemon Targaryen. How in the world had it gotten here?

Daemon held her hands away from her, pinning them above her head, and his eyes spoke to hers his desires, his urges, all boiled down to promises. One day, I will bind your wrists and take you, and Naera cursed the shudder in her breath at his silent oath.

“Stay still for me.” His words had warning, and a deep, gruesome undertone to his words that made her want to obey, just this once. She let her arms go slack, hands grasped tight somewhere above her head, and she blared silent for his actions. She watched him, the mischief leaking out of his eyes, a haunted sort of eagerness in the lines on his forehead, the smile on his lips, the darkness of his eyes. Brilliant, he was, in more ways than she could count.

Daemon leaned close down, kissing her once again, this time soft, slow and temperate, and his hands dragged lower, and lower, and lower, nose dragging past the curve of her neck, and down, and down to the rise and fall of her breasts. He spared a kiss there but did not linger, and the thrill, the waves, the boil of anticipation in her heart did nothing to assuage her of the heat she felt.

Finally, his hands reached her thighs, pulling them apart, and he settled between them as he had the night before, though this time there was more comfort in his stature—the ability to leer, linger and lie in wait. God, she would both hate and love this—she would both hate and love him.

“Ah,” his grin made her cower, for no reasons defined, “Looks as though my Visenya has a lot of urges in her sleep,” and she felt the need to clarify, to defend herself, to tell him that it was the first time—the only time, and it had been after their night. Yet, what was the point? Somewhere in her mind, lingering, crawling and festering was the knowledge that it would not be the last time she dreamt that way of him.

Daemon ran a finger down her folds, through the slick wetness of hers, and she moaned breathily. He brought his finger up, and her legs twitched and shook, something of a spasm overtaking them.

“Careful, now,” and his warning resonated in her mind. Ah.

He repeated his actions, up, down, and up again, and she held her breath to keep herself from moving. Stay still, and he won’t deny you your pleasure. Daemon let his tongue run up her soaked cunt, muttering another comment about its taste which she could hardly register over the urge to drag his head in. Every careful breath of his collided with her clit in a way not at all unpleasurable, and she strained at the control.

“Good girl,” he praised her, cloyingly sweet, sickening, sugaring and brilliant. Daemon crept his tongue into her cunt, and a finger, and another, and Naera couldn’t help the shake of her hips to meet him in his way. He did not stop, however, as she had dreaded for so long, and only held her thighs with a stronger grace, and it went, his tongue, curling, winding and drinking her in. Naera broke away a hand, brushing it through his hair, revelling in its feel, and she tugged him closer, and closer to where she needed him.

Then, as a match stick does go out, as do a thousand candles in the wind, blowing, cooling, while darkness settled over it all, Daemon retreated, his eyes finding her pleading gaze, and Naera knew that she was at fault. Oh, but is it fault, if it felt as grand?

Daemon left her thighs, her aches and her needs, and he crept higher, taking her hands and holding them with a crushing grasp above her head. He stopped at her face, littering kisses everywhere but her lips, and she knew him—she knew his urges, his wants, his needs, to humiliate, to dominate, to make her give in—and she did not hate it at all.

“I am sorry,” Naera whispered, laying slack for his measure, for his leisure, for his pleasure, and he did not miss the glint of acceptance in her eyes.

“Are you, now?” He held her up, dragging, lingering and smirking, “Good girls don’t make such mistakes, dearest Naera,” and she shivered at his words. Daemon flipped her onto her stomach, running her hands down the smooth expanses of her back, acres and acres of ivory, scarred and healed and faded, and his. He heard her gasping breaths beneath, saw the pooling of slick by her cunt, and oh, she was perfection.

Daemon pulled up her knees, kneeling behind her leaking cunt, and watched, and watched, as she combated the urge to touch herself. He’d made her do it, one day, but not today. Or, not now, at least. He freed his cock, fully aching from the sight, and spread a hand around her ass. One day, but not today. There would be time—there would be endless time for their endeavours. Not today.

“Well,” he ran his hands up her back, through the smooth, saturnine texture of her skin, above the scars and wounds long healed and done, to her locks of dry, wispy silver hair that lay scattered around her neck. He caught hold of a bunch, wound his fingers around the locks slowly, carefully, lovingly, and tugged at it, harsh, painful and stiff.

Naera cursed the sensations, the hastening fairy-like tingles which ran through her back, down her body, through her cunt, at the endowment of pain and ache. She felt him lean close to her neck, whispering words she couldn’t decipher, though she trusted them to be nothing short of salacious.

He leaned back up, playing with her folds, slow, quiet and torturous, but oh, it was brilliant. He was brilliant. With no warnings, no indication and certainly no mercy, Daemon thrust in his cock, in, in, until he had fit himself into her heat by no means other than brute force.

Naera buried her face in the sheets, eyes closed, grunting at the stretch, at the pain, at the delight. She must’ve heard him sing a praise or two or three, about how tight she was, or how well she took him in, but they went unheard, his words went unconceived, but the rumble and thrum of his voice along her body send her reeling for more.

Daemon held her hips with bruising force, as though she did not already have bruises all over, and pulled out nearly all the way, before slamming into her with a grasping panic. Naera clustered as much of the sheets as she could, body writhing in pain, in pleasure, and some cursed approximation of their sum and Daemon went on, again, and again, and again, and Naera cried out a moan.

“Now, was that so hard?” Daemon mocked with hurried breaths, “Was is hard to just stay still for your lord husband?” But oh, she liked this more, he knew. He knew her, and her needs, and her attitude—she wanted roughness out of him, power, brutality, even, though not always—he’d figure her out eventually.

Naera whined out a cry, a moan, a whimper, at the feeling of his cock stretching her walls farther than before, grazing her womb, leaving her weak, wanting and wary for the next thrust. Daemon tugged at her hair again, harsher this time, and his movements lost rhythm as he groaned, leaning on her back. Naera whined when he tugged at her again, and there was a thrust particularly powerful, one that made her see stars.

He felt her tighten around him, close to her end, and he told her, “There you go, come for me, my—” and she took his words to heed, clenching around him in ways unfelt, gasping, wheezing, whining and moaning, mind blurred, but his name made it through. Daemon.

Hearing her chant his name in ecstasy, he followed suit, "My lovely princess," and he resisted the urge to call her his whore, "take my seed, yes? Take your kepa's seed, and we can begin our brood," and Naera did not know why she hissed out a heavy moan at the thought of being round, and full of child—full of him. Giving her a few powerful thrusts, Daemon held her hips tight against him, burying himself as far within her as he could. He filled her with himself, thick, hot, heavy seed filling her womb, holding her warmth, and Naera breathed in the sensation with a shadowing glee. 

Naera’s knees collapsed, and she was thankful that he retained enough sense to collapse beside her, and not over her. Her lungs felt deflated, and she flipped onto her back, heart hammering in her chest, searching for a clean breath. She felt his seed ooze out of her in drips and streams, and her cunt clenched around the remnants without her will. She stuttered out a moan, and a gasp, at the tip-tip-trickling of it out of her.

Oh.

Daemon pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, warm and sweaty. He looked over her rising and falling chest, her full and rounded breasts, and her neck, red and purple with marks of his giving, but he’d do it all over again. He'd fill her with himself a thousand times if need be, until she was rounded with his kin, oh, until she was indisputably his.

“Morning, your grace,” Naera greeted her father, as she took a seat beside him. He looked weaker than the previous night, heavier, and less humane. His maesters had certainly failed again. She wondered if she should offer help.

“Ah, daughter,” but he smiled all the same when he saw her, and nothing mattered past that. He also did not mention anything past that, possibly to avert her from calling her by the name good-brother, or perhaps to avert himself from thinking about whatever surely happened following the feast the previous night. Oh, he did not want to think, but the remnants of red along her neck, behind her silver hair, told him enough.

He also learned far too much about their relations, as Daemon took a seat beside her—Laenor’s seat, by all means, but the Velaryon was too occupied by his children to care much. He leaned close to her, lips moving in near-silent whispers, tongue lashing in ways resembling their mother tongue, and no one could miss the way Naera blushed.

“Morning, good-father,” Daemon greeted also, much to his brother’s dismay. Laenor, on the other hand, gutted out half a laugh before catching himself. Viserys did not spare his good son a glare. Naera pressed her lips into a very thin line, chanting something along the lines of don’t, don’t, don’t, in her mind.

Thankfully, the towers do know very well how all joy can be destroyed. “When shall you be departing for Dragonstone, princess?” Alicent Hightower asked, but the glimmer in her eyes could easily be taken for hope, expectation and aspiration. She wanted them out of her way.

Naera smiled, “I believe we shall remain in King’s Landing for a while longer, yes?” We need to…you know. Daemon knew. The downfall of the Hightowers, but with a better plan. He’d take it more seriously this time. He had what he needed now.

“Yes,” he agreed absently, “We have much to do in the Capital.” Though, his words raised more questions than answers. Aemond looked the most perturbed, but the way his single eye followed Daemon’s words and actions could settle for some semblance of aspiration. The boy wanted to be the mirror image of his uncle—strong, unbothered, unpredictable and dangerous.

Naera sensed his predicament—questions were dangerous things, so she added, “I’ve gathered up far too many papers and correspondence. It shall take quite some time to go through it all.” Her manuscripts, her journals, her letters and Wisestone. It would be a tempestuous time, indeed.

“Shall I allot you a squire, to help you through?” There was no malice in the Green Queen’s words, but Naera couldn’t settle with a squire.

“Not unless you can find me one adept with Valyrian,” and she knew that that’d stump her also. Not many in Westeros were familiar with the language at all.

“And her horrid penmanship,” Daemon added, and though his words were playful, they weren’t wrong. Naera glanced at him, ready to mock something of his, but how could she? Her writing wasn’t the finest in the seven kingdoms, after all.

“Perhaps Grand Maester Mellos, then,” and the thought of the old, wrinkly mediator of the Small Council reading through her writings made Naera frown. She refused.

“I shall see to it myself, your grace,” and that needed to be the end of it. She must have had two score letters piled up, and she needed to send her scripts to the Citadel for storage also. It would be arduous and long, but it was nothing new.

“Nonsense,” her father croaked, drinking a cup full of cold water to revise his voice, “Aemond can do it.” Aemond can do it, and Alicent’s face darkened. Aemond himself looked apprehensive, ready to go prattling on about how he’s a prince, not a common knight’s squire, but the panic in his eyes as all at the table considered the proposal prevented him from speaking. “He’s a smart boy, he’ll learn something from you,” and that was not how anyone saw it at all. He was a boy, a young prince, not a pondering young man about to serve a princess.

“I do not think that would be appropriate,” Naera dismissed it already, not missing the way Aemond’s single eye calmed at her words. She’d be fine on her own—there was much to be done. Though, the memories of how Dornish princes are so often sent by their parents to serve the lower houses as a manner of ageing and learning did flicker past. The world was not Dorne, however, much to her regret.

“I’ll help you,” Daemon decided in the spirit of compromise.

“You will do not such thing, my Prince.” Naera stated with a smile. She’d never get anything done with Daemon breathing down her neck, making her burn with desire. There, another round of far too many questions due to her words, and she clarified, “It’ll drive you insane, kepus, it’s dreary work,” not fit for a soldier such as you.

He seemed to laugh, all in those pale lilac eyes that never seemed to leave her movements, “Is that a challenge?” He wanted to play a duel, not one of the swords, but one of the wills, but he had an advantage—he always had an advantage when it came to her, it seemed.

“Do you want it to be?” Naera did not attempt to stop the smile that overtook her—teasing, fighting, winning, and losing all the same.

“It’s settled, then,” he had grasped an early victory, “I shall be your squire, princess.”

MASTERLIST

[magicsouled]

tag dump -

[matea-blackthorn]

Once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her.

And crowned herself the mother-fucking queen of herself.   - how’s that for a happily ever after?

-A. Lovelace

[vodkaforwater]

-Brooke Maddox                     “once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her & crowned herself the mother-fucking queen of herself.   - how’s that for a happily ever after?” ― Amanda Lovelace

[drama-days]

so, so many hours

my id is gangnam beauty

what’s wrong with secretary kim?

my secret romance

clean with passion for now

she was pretty

love o2o

boss & me

mr swimmer

he is psychometric

her private life

accidentally in love

the beauty inside

touch your heart

ashes of love

angle���s last mission: love

fall in love

meteor garden

stairway to Stardom

the secret life of my secretary

while you were sleeping

w - two worlds

tempted

bride of the water god

strong woman do bong soon

master devil don’t kiss me

put your head on my shoulder

hello, the other parties friend

weightlifting fairy Kim Bok Joo

i picked up a celebrity on the street

i am

dragon day, your dead

the big boss

sweet combat

my absolute boyfriend

before we get married

princess hours

coffee and vanilla

jenny and juno

well intended love

the miracle

my girlfriend is an alien

doctor stranger

pinocchio

melting me softly

my love from another star

my father is strange

full house

temperature of love

just between lovers

ldk: two loves under one roof

because this is my first life

another oh hae young

the tale of nokdu

search: www

cinderella and four knights

i’m not a robot

the legend of the blue sea

spring has come

goblin

the legend of the blue sea

smi)e

sweet dreams

love the way you are

the brightest star in the sky

the devil master

ugly to handsome

close range love

say I love you

sensei kunshu

make bow and kiss

kakafukaka

so I married an anti fan

about is love

lucky’s first love

thirty but seventeen

doctor romantic 2

my holo love

i’ll meet you when the weather is nice

a piece of your mind

the king: eternal monarch

crash landing on you

it’s okay to not be okay

my introverted boss

scums wish

skate into love

hanazakari no kimitachi

minami kun no koibito

a little thing called first love

basket loveball

prodigy healer

love better than immortality

beautiful reborn flower

the foxes summer

the romance of tiger and rose

the love equations

heartstrings

flower of evil

tale of the nine-tailed

start-up

love is sweet

perfect and casual

intense love

sweet first love

i don’t love you yet

from nine to five

suspicious partner

shanai marriage honey

good morning call

doom at your service

watashitachi wa douka shiteiru

wotakoi: love is hard for otaku

unrequited love

love scenery

moonlight

youth of may

more than friends

my roommate is a gumiho

please feel at ease mr.ling

closest love to heaven

my teacher

nevertheless

kikazaru koi niha riyuu ga atte

the untamed

falling into your smile

gank your heart

you complete me

first romance

unforgettable love

hello mr.gu

you are my glory

my queen

hometown cha cha cha

cute programmer

daytime shooting star

love at night

our beloved summer

snow drop

love is phantom

the oath of love

my tomorrow, your yesterday

be yourself

love between fairy and devil

shooting star

a romance of the little forest

our secret

hey sensei, dont you know?

anna

to watch

meeting you (cdrama)

love lasts forever (jdrama)

the last cinderella (jdrama)

takane to hana (jdrama)

le coup de foundre (cdrama)

eternal faith/tcgf (cdrama)

flavour it’s you (cdrama)

make my heart smile (cdrama)

koi wa tsuzuku yo doko made no (jdrama)

tomorrow with yiu (kdrama)

queen of the ring (kdrama)

the life of the white fox

sky castle

when i was the most beautiful

crush (cdrama)

orange (j)

[a-marrtian]

once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her & crowned herself the motherfucking queen of herself

amanda lovelace

the princess saves herself in the one

[carelessgraces]

MAIN CROSSOVER VERSE – DRAGON AGE

HISTORY tw: abuse, death

She was a delicate child, clever and soft and always aware of her surroundings. Born in the height of summer and raised in the palace at Seleny, Astoria was a surprise, and a blessing – the result of a brief but passionate affair between Veronica Grimani, the daughter of Seleny’s merchant prince and his assumed heir, and Henry Greengrass, the Bann of the Storm Coast. (He might have followed her back to Antiva, his own lands be damned, were it not for the wife and daughter waiting for him to return from his trip to Denerim, already months longer than he had intended.)

(She had her mother’s eyes and nose, her grandmother’s cheekbones, her grandfather’s laugh. The thick red curls, the source of her greatest vanity, were a gift from her father, a reminder that even with her roots planted firmly in Antiva, she was a daughter of Ferelden.)

Her tutors thought her a promising student, and found her well-equipped to learn – more than that, they discovered early on that she had a knack for learning things she shouldn’t, and she could talk her way out of anything. As she grew, she developed an interest in politics, compounded by a natural skill; catching sight of this, her grandfather began to augment her education. Where she was once gently ushered from Alessandro’s study while he conducted business, she was invited to remain and observe quietly; where her training had been conducted to prepare her for life as a lady of wealth and status, it shifted to prepare her for life as the heir to Seleny itself. She was taught to understand politics, philosophy, history, economics, theology – and combat, as well, assigned a Crow, Lorenzo, from the House under her grandfather’s command as a guard. (He trained her, too – first only in defense, and later, without her grandfather’s permission, with blades, with poisons and grenades, with everything she could need to defend herself should she one day take her grandfather’s seat.)

Death touched the Grimani family when Ileana, Astoria’s grandmother, caught a fever while in Minrathous, negotiating a treaty. The treaty was put on hold and Ileana was accompanied by her niece and nephew back onto the road, where she perished and was cremated. The whole of the family was devastated by the loss – Alessandro withdrew to his study, where he kept his wife’s urn; Veronica took up the business of running the city, more in a desire to have something to do than any interest of her own in ruling; and Astoria turned to her newly-met cousins, a pair of siblings who had been named her godparents before they relocated to Tevinter. 

Evander and Elyssa took an immediate interest in Astoria and her education, and offered to remain in Seleny to train her, teaching her ancient history at first – and, as Astoria and her godparents grew closer, they asked that Astoria be allowed to attend lessons without being accompanied by her guard. (Surely, a chaperone was unnecessary – where would Astoria be safer than in her own home?) Weeks before Astoria’s fifteenth birthday, the reason for such a request was unveiled, and Elyssa – an apostate and blood mage – placed Astoria under a thrall, claiming that she intended to teach Astoria to withstand the call and command of blood magic. 

Frightened and determined to prove to herself that she was safe, Astoria began to ask questions shortly before her birthday. Her curiosity was punished violently by Evander, the first of many of his lessons. The pretense of training and good will were dropped, Astoria effectively terrorized into silence. For months, this continued, Astoria’s periods of lucidity increasing only when Elyssa began to take her terror for granted, and the more she listened, the more she learned: her godparents had been contacted by the merchant prince in Treviso, promised the aid of his own House of Crows for overthrowing the Grimani. They would take Seleny for themselves – and Astoria, under their control, had been for months giving them the means to do this.

She confronted them – and was beaten, badly, for her disobedience, the incident reported to her grandfather and mother as the result of an attack and attempted robbery while the three were in the city. The family retreated to their vineyard while Astoria recovered, and she acted quickly, certain that she wouldn’t long have the opportunity. 

It happened quickly: a carefully laid trail, made just clumsy enough to be seen; trust in the Crow who had been her protector for years; certainty in her godparents’ tempers. She taunted them, threatened them, and when Evander lifted his hand to strike Astoria, he was killed by her guard. Elyssa managed to escape, but only just, and Astoria was gathered into Lorenzo’s grasp and brought quickly to safety. 

Adjusting to Seleny again proved more difficult than Astoria could have guessed. Angry with her mother and grandfather for not seeing what was being done to her sooner, she finally asked that she be allowed to attend university in Val Royeaux, where she could study and prepare to inherit her grandfather’s titles. He agreed, officially naming her his heir and promising to send her once Elyssa was found; he was as good as his word, and the preparations were made for her to relocate, with Lorenzo remaining as her guard and her grandfather and uncle accompanying her to Orlais. 

She showed immense promise in her studies, relieved to be far from the site of such recent tragedy and to have a chance at independence. Within two years she was training as a bard under the youngest daughter of the Duc de Savrenne, her uncle’s betrothed; she established herself as a welcome addition to the Orlesian court, attending even royally-patronised salons and taking one of her classmates, a Marcher lord a year older, as her on-again, off-again lover. During holidays from the university she went to the Storm Coast to spend weeks with her father and sister, getting to know the Bannorn or urging her family to take her to Denerim so she could get to know the Ferelden court as well.

After five years of study Astoria agreed to return home; her mother came to Orlais to travel with her, intending that their first stop be Redcliffe, where Veronica would meet the Arl to establish new trade alliances and try her luck at arranging a union between Astoria and the Bann. 

And then, the dead rose.

TIMELINE

1 SOLACE 9:08 Astoria is born in Seleny, Antiva, to Veronica Grimani and an unidentified father, later revealed to be Henry Greengrass, Bann of the Storm Coast.

WINTER 9:19 Astoria’s education is expanded to prepare her to become Merchant Princess after her grandfather’s death. She is assigned a guard from among the Crows under his command – Lorenzo, who begins training her in combat and defense.

SPRING - SUMMER 9:22 Ileana Grimani, Merchant Princess of Seleny and Astoria’s grandmother, contracts a fever while visiting Minrathous. She dies on the road, and her ashes are returned to her family by her niece and nephew, Evander and Elyssa, also Astoria’s godparents. They remain in Seleny and begin to take part in Astoria’s education.

SPRING 9:23 Lorenzo, concerned by the request that he no longer chaperone Astoria in her lessons, begins training her in secret as a dual-wield rogue.

SUMMER 9:23 Weeks before her fifteenth birthday, Astoria is placed under Elyssa’s thrall, allegedly to teach her to throw off a blood mage’s control, and sworn to secrecy. When she presses for more information, Evander strikes her, and the pretense of training and good will are dropped when the three are in private. 

SPRING 9:24 After months of Elyssa’s “training,” Elyssa begins to take for granted that Astoria has been terrorized into silence. Astoria learns the real motives behind her godparents’ visit and begins planning a way to get rid of them for good, risking her life to do so. When Evander beats her badly enough to threaten her life, the family retires to their vineyard, where Astoria arranges their death by goading Evander into striking her in front of Lorenzo. Lorenzo kills Evander and, months later, kills Elyssa.

AUTUMN 9:24 Astoria is named heir to Seleny and travels to Val Royeaux, where she begins studying at the university. Her uncle remains in Orlais, looking to secure an advantageous match for himself, angry that he’s been passed over. Astoria exchanges letters with her mother while at university, but will not see her, and instead stays with her father in Storm Coast for holidays.

SPRING 9:26 Astoria begins training as a bard under the Lady Isabeau de Savrenne, the youngest daughter of the Duc de Savrenne and her uncle’s betrothed. 

EARLY 9:30 After completing five years of intensive study at the university, and becoming well versed in the Game – including as a regular attendee of numerous royally-sponsored salons, and the on-again, off-again lover of Lord Iain Blackwood of Starkhaven, another student – Astoria sees her mother for the first time since she left Seleny. When Lord Blackwood marries another woman, Astoria agrees to return to Antiva with her mother. Astoria, Lorenzo, and Veronica pass through Redcliffe together, and are trapped there when the dead rise.

9:30 – 9:31 Astoria risks her life to save her mother and Lorenzo, who are trapped in the castle, allying with the Warden to do so. She remains in Ferelden to help defeat the blight, and Lorenzo agrees to accompany her mother back to Antiva.

9:31 – 9:34 If Alistair is king, and they have a good relationship, Astoria spends a year with him in Denerim, helping him grow accustomed to his new political role, before moving to spend time with her father. If he is not, Astoria goes directly to her father’s Bannorn.

LATE 9:34 Astoria hears news that her grandfather has fallen ill, and returns to Seleny, inviting her father to come with her.

SPRING 9:35 Astoria’s grandfather dies, and Astoria takes the role of Merchant Princess of Seleny and Gonfaloniere di Giustizia of the Signoria at age twenty-six. 

9:38 Following the uprising in Kirkwall, Astoria opens Seleny to mage refugees, many of whom settle in the countryside, and takes on templars in the city guard. The experiment works well – she hand-selects templars to ensure that they will follow her command and punishes those who do not swiftly and without mercy. She holds a tight rein on the city, punishing any mages who enact violence on the civilians with equal speed. Through her careful management, she is able to maintain control of the city and establish peace.

9:41 Astoria attends the conclave at the request of Divine Justinia, having been invited due to her success in Seleny.

GENERAL STATISTICS

CLASS Rogue. SPECIALIZATION Assassin, Bard (DA:O), Shadow (DA:A); Assassin, Shadow (DA2), Tempest (Inquisition)

Note: As Astoria has already trained in assassin skills, by Inquisition she is willing to take on another specialization. She will use the same number of skill points as any Inquisitor or Companion, but will have both trees available to her. 

WEAPON Dual-wield, usually sword and dagger. SPECIAL SKILLS Coercion, Poison Making, Stealing, Survival. 

COMPANION STATISTICS

ORIGINS

PERSONAL QUEST

INQUISITION

PERSONAL QUEST ( Under Construction )

INQUISITOR STATISTICS

EXPLORING THEDAS

Redcliffe Inner Sanctum reached, Crossroads secured, gained cultists’ allegiance;

Crestwood Closed lake’s rift, captured Caer Bronach;

Western Approach Claimed Griffon Wing’s Keep;

Hissing Wastes Explored Dwarven ruins;

Emerald Graves Fairbanks revealed to be noble, Fairbanks defeated the Freeman;

Emprise du Lion Michel de Chevin recruited, Imshael killed, captured Suledin Keep.

MAJOR QUESTS

THE WRATH OF HEAVEN Accepted being chosen by Andraste.

CHAMPIONS OF THE JUST Inquisitor went to Theirinfall Redoubt, templars allied; Ser Barris is alive, promoted to Knight Commander.

IN YOUR HEART SHALL BURN Declared for faith.

HERE LIES THE ABYSS Allied with the Wardens, Hawke left in the Fade.

Note: Astoria will leave Hawke in the Fade due to her affection for Alistair and respect for the Warden order. However, if she and Hawke have developed a close relationship, she will leave Stroud or Loghain in the Fade over Hawke. She will not leave Alistair under any circumstances.

WICKED EYES AND WICKED HEARTS Celene killed, Briala rules through Gaspard, Grand Duchess Floriane recruited.

WHAT PRIDE HAD WROUGHT Respected temple traditions and allied with guards, Morrigan drank from the Well of Sorrows ( unless Velanna or Merrill, or another elven advisor willing to drink from the Well, is present ).

DOOM UPON ALL THE WORLD Cassandra made Divine.

JUDGMENT AT SKYHOLD A recruiting judge.

CALPERNIA Past investigated.

JAWS OF HAKKON Discovered and met Ameridan, shared the truth about American, hunted down the Nox Morta, the dragon was slain, earned a legend-mark from the Avvar.

COMPANIONS

BLACKWALL Recruited and stayed, left prison as Rainier, pardoned by the Inquisition;

CASSANDRA Received and read Tome, Seeker order rebuilt;

COLE Recruited and stayed, made more human;

CULLEN Encouraged not to use lyrium;

DORIAN Recruited and stayed, met and did not reconcile with father;

IRON BULL Recruited, Chargers saved, became Tal-Vashoth;

JOSEPHINE Supported to do favors for the Du Paraquettes;

LELIANA Steeled;

SERA Recruited and left, killed Haramond;

SOLAS Freed his friend;

VARRIC Tracked Red Lyrium source;

VIVIENNE Recruited, given snowy wyvern heart.

IMPORTANT NOTES —

The Greengrasses, Mac Eanraigs, and Couslands

On the Structure of Seleny

On Lorenzo and House Vescovi

[bloodshrike-helene]

Time And Hearts Will Wear Us Thin || Zoyalai

Summary: So, upon finishing King of Scars, I have been truly broken and also have been made into utter Zoyalai trash because they may just be some of the greatest characters ever written. Anyway, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t immediately want to write some angsty and feelsy fic. Set after the ending of the book, a few months down the line with Nikolai’s royal engagement continuing and Zoya’s feelings for him going no where, she tries to distract herself. Please reblog/like/comment if you enjoy it! Spoilers for King of Scars.

Rating: Mature

Fandom: King of Scars/Grishaverse

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky

Word Count: 2441

AO3 link: Here

-----------------------

The man beneath her had no name, or at least, not one that Zoya cared to remember.  It had been a considerable time since she'd taken a lover, even for a night. Between her duties as a General, a teacher and a tamer of the King's beast, both her days and nights were otherwise occupied.  However, things had changed since they had returned from keeping company with the Saints.  With Nikolai's demon seemingly at bay and his engagement to the Shu Princess the talk of every land, Zoya had taken a necessary step away from the young King. Their once steady routine slipping away, piece by piece.  After two weeks still in chains, even without Genya's sleeping draught, it became apparent that the beast wasn't intending to make an appearance. So, Nikolai had gone without the shackles. Meaning he no longer required Zoya to lock him up at night or free him when the sun rose again.  The King took breakfast with his new fiancée, held council and meetings with visiting delegates, showed off his soon to be Queen at various parties, everything that was expected of the monarch and then some.  They no longer ate breakfast together. Their meetings were few and far between, often among the Triumvirate or at council. Zoya stood by as a respectful General. His second in Command. Protector of both Nikolai and Ravka. How you ache for what is yours. Juris' voice was often unwelcome. A low growl in the back of her mind, flooding her with the truths she would not acknowledge.  Nikolai belongs to Ravka. He is my King. I ache for nothing more than the strength of his reign.

How many times had those words been whispered within her own mind, hoping she might believe the lie if it were repeated often enough? It didn’t dull the twist in her stomach when the Shu Princess would take Nikolai’s arm or when he would offer her that sun splitting smile, radiating the kind of charm and beauty that noble women would risk drowning themselves for.

 Jealousy. Longing. These were traits of foolish girls. And Zoya Nazyalensky did not pine.

 Another week brought another party.

 Genya was in her element, each gala grander than the last. Though, knowing her friend, the organising of events was a welcome distraction. Keeping her mind focused on something linear she had control over. Letting her mind stray away from the loss of Isaak and the presence of the creature in shackles within the bowels of the palace.

 The return of the Darkling remained a secret. And would do so until they could figure out how to rid Nikolai of the lingering darkness within him. Once that blackness had been banished, Zoya would take every pleasure in slowly killing her once mentor.

 The finishing blow belonged to her.

 The party had been thrown in honour of the First and Second army. A night for higher ranking soldiers and generals to let their hair down and meet their new Queen. Grisha and otkazat'sya mingled with one another, something Nikolai had insisted upon. This was a symbol of his reign, as it always had been. The unification of the First and Second armies.

 ‘Let them see that we are all the same after one too many glasses of kvas,’ The King had insisted to the Triumvirate when he had approached with his plans for the evening.

 Such logic never failed to be irritating.

 As always, Zoya lingered at the edges of the grand ballroom, face a beautiful carving of solid stone, sapphire eyes darting from face to face. Curious gazes lingered on her, whispers spoken in quiet breaths, a mixture of awe and terror. It not something new to the Squaller. For most of her life she had known what it was for people to desire and fear her in the same breath.

 Her attention was not theirs to have.

 Nikolai stood surrounded by a handful of soldiers, some she recognised as men who had served with him during his time in the army. Toyla lingered half a foot away, the hulking Shu man hard to miss as he watched over the monarch and the soft smiling Princess Ehri Kir-Taban on his arm.

 A political alliance he had called it. The exact thing Zoya had pushed him towards for months. So why did it leave such a bitter taste in her mouth?

 The ashes of a love realised too late.

 The dragon’s murmur caused the frown to deepen on her beautiful features, silver eyes flashing for just a moment before the striking blue returned, tearing her gaze from the golden-haired Privateer and his gentle bride to be.

 “General Nazyalensky?”

 The voice had broken through her focus. Male. Laced with respect and just a hint of reluctance. Turning, she had been met by the presence of a young sergeant. Vaguely recognising him from the First Army. Dark hair, green eyes, strong jaw and thin lips. He’d told her his name. Zoya hadn’t been listening. Hadn’t cared.

 “Speak.”

 “Would you care to dance?”

 Surprise surely flickered across her face, perfectly groomed brow raising as she met that unwavering stare. Either the man was drunk, stupid or both. No one ever approached her, never mind an otkazat'sya so far beneath her in rank.

 Zoya had to admire his bravery.

 “No,” It was the only answer she had for him. For anyone who wished to spin her around the room like a doll on parade. She would reserve that honour for the King’s fiancée.

 Eyes drifted to the pair in question once more as the man before her spluttered and made his excuses to leave. Apparently, he hadn’t expected to be dismissed quite so quickly. Nikolai’s fingers lingered now on the small of Ehri’s back, laughter rumbling from the circle they stood within. Yes, the alliance was political, but perhaps more could blossom. If Nikolai was good at anything, it was making people fall in love with him. Even a reluctant Shu Princess who had originally intended to murder him.

 “I’ll be returning to my quarters within the next ten minutes.”

 The soldier stopped in his tracks, turning back to meet that cold, ocean blue stare. Zoya merely inclined her head towards the doors, the implication apparent. It was not the first time she’d done this though it had certainly been a while. There was no warmth. No shy and blushing maid who hoped to find affection and love in the arms of a man.

 Zoya knew what she wanted. What she needed.

 The soldier was in the hallway waiting when she finally left the ballroom, excusing herself to Genya under the pretence that she needed an early night. The woman hadn’t believed her but hadn’t pushed either. Like an obedient puppy, the otkazat'sya had followed her silently to her rooms, the very chambers that had once been the Darkling’s. Oh, how the man had sneered when he’d learned that she had taken up residence in what had once been his private quarters. Completely refurbished or not, he saw the humour in such action and made his mocking amusement known.

 There was no one to witness her taking the man into her rooms but the guards who would not speak of it less they face her wrath.

 The Stormwitch did not wish for softness. In this dance, there was no room for gentle kisses and caressing touches. In fact, Zoya had not permitted him to kiss her lips. As welcoming as they were, full and reddened by Genya’s tailoring, she would remind him of his place. That he did not deserve her.  

 They had shed their clothes and fallen into the soft expanse of her bed.

The man was well built, a true solider. All hard muscles and rough skin, hands which had seen war and known weapons. Those fingers traced her skin, along her hips, cupping her breasts, worshipping her body like a temple he couldn’t quite believe he’d been permitted to be near.

 It wasn’t enough.

 The roaring in her head was louder, screaming, demanding.

 Give me more.

 Make me forget.

 Zoya put him on his back, straddling his hips as she took him into her body. Hard and heavy within her. Fingers curled around the wooden frame at the head of the bed, granting her the leverage to work herself on him, deeper, faster.

 No mewling whimpers or soft moans echoed from her even as the solider grunted and squirmed beneath her.

 “Fuck me,” She hissed, vicious and commanding.

 A ripple of hesitation radiated from the nameless man, the hands at her hips still gentle as if she were a summer peach that might bruise. But she was not sweet or soft. She was a lightning storm. She was fire. She was reckoning.

 “I am not a fragile doll, otkazat'sya,” That word sent something through him. Zoya noted the slight flash in his eyes, the way his hands tightened at her hips. Good. If cruelty was the only way to get what she wanted from him, then so be it. “Fuck me like you’re worth something.”

 The slight growl that rattled from her lover traced down her spine, and in a blink, she was on her back. Lips were on her neck, teeth claiming pale skin, fingers digging into the skin of her thigh hard enough to bruise.

 More. More. Make me forget.

 Nails dragged along the expanse of his back, down to dig into the firm skin of his backside, encouraging each harsh thrust of his hips.

 In the end, it wasn’t earth shattering.

 Zoya’s own hand had slipped between them, finding the slick bundle of nerves and coaxing herself into her climax around him. For a few moments there was nothing. Nothing but pleasure. Blissful emptiness.

 Slipping him from her, the woman finished him with her hand, letting him spill across her skin.

 Already disappointment was creeping in. It never lasted. Those seconds where her mind emptied, and her body took over.

 Zoya of the lost city. Zoya the forgotten. Zoya the lonely.

 The solider was panting into the skin of her neck, emptiness giving way to irritation as she shoved him away from her. A purpose served.

 Slipping from the bed onto slightly unsteady legs, Zoya took a moment to clean herself from the essence of him before tugging her soft robe on, tying it at the waist as she turned to face him. “Get dressed and get out,” It was if she were dismissing a student who had wasted her time on an unnecessary problem.

The man was sliding on his boots when the knock came at the door.

 Of all people, she had expected to see Genya on the other side of the door. Not Nikolai.

The King stood before her in all his finery, an expectant expression on chiselled features. “Genya said you weren’t feeling well.”

That sounded like the tailor. Always needing an excuse.

 “I’m fine,” Zoya murmured dismissively, noting those hazel eyes studying her wearily. Black hair slightly dishevelled, blossoming bruises at the dip of her neck. Behind her, she heard the rustle of a jacket and footsteps.

 “Moi soverennyi,” The slight shock in the soldier’s voice was apparent and the Squaller had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, stepping back to open the door a little further, refusing to meet Nikolai’s gaze even as he put two and two together. 

 “Andrei,” Of course, it would so like him to know the man by name when even she had forgotten it long before she’d bedded him.

 “Get out,” Zoya snapped, voice as sharp as a cracking whip, the young man flinching, half bowing before scurrying from the room. Now she looked to her King, meeting his hazel stare. “What?”

 “I never took you as having a taste for otkazat'sya soldiers.”

 “They have their uses.”

 There was a flash of something in those eyes of his. Was it hurt? Anger? She couldn’t be certain. All she knew was that forgetting him was made harder when he showed up at the threshold of her door.

 “Zoya-“

 “You shouldn’t be here. The party is still going, and people will question where you have gone. Especially if they learn you are here. And I would hate to upset your fiancée,” The bitterness in her tone was undeniable. Words more vicious than she had ever intended. They had been rumoured lovers in the past when they had been dealing with his beastly side, and a busy court loved the gossip which came with an affair. Even if that were not the case.

 “Of course, I just, wanted to make sure you were okay,” He was hesitating. Zoya could feel it radiating from him. But why?

 “More than okay,” The smugness was forced into her voice, false words with a pretty face, wanting to hurt him, wanting the reaction.

 Show me you care.

 Show me you want me.

 Please.

 Nikolai merely smiled. That wide, boyish grin. “Well, try not to scare the soldiers too much, Zoya, dear, we do need them able to walk,” There was laughter in his voice, though she did not answer it with her own. The ache began to paw within her chest again. Raw and bleeding. A wound she could not heal.

 “Yes, your Highness,” She tucked her robe tighter around herself, one hand straying to the door. “Goodnight,” If Nikolai made to stop her, she didn’t notice. Closing the door over and locking it with a lingering crack.

And he had opened his mouth to speak. To stop her. To reach out and say something. But the door had shut and Zoya’s point had been made. Yet Nikolai couldn’t bring himself to move. Remaining there, outside her door, for just a few seconds more. Fingers brushing heavy wood, as he ushered a sigh. “Goodnight Zoya.”

 Whatever emptiness the Squaller had chased from her bed with the company of the solider, returned like a wave, all consuming. Terrifying. An endless pit which now ran alongside her grief. Eternal and choking.

 Little Witch, you can lie to him, but you cannot lie to yourself.

 “Shut up,” Zoya snarled into the darkness of her room, collapsing down onto her bed, feeling the tightness in her throat, the betraying sting of threatening tears at her eyes. She would cry for no man. King or not.  

 You cannot make them love you.

 You cannot make him love you.

 The Grisha whose beauty could start wars. The Witch who men would throw down their lives for. A living piece of priceless art.

 Desired. Worshipped.

 Alone.

 Left with an aching heart, poisoned with a love she could never have. 

[danger-archive]

         once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her                              & crowned herself the mother-fucking queen of herself.

                                    H T T P : // DANGERPRONE . CO . VU 

                                   support your local mystery solver!

[339days-with-me]

08.03.19 - día 68

Nosotras no nos defendemos: nosotras luchamos.

"once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her & crowned herself the mother-fucking queen of herself.   - how’s that for a happily ever after?"

[ashccra]

“ once upon a time, the princess rose from the ashes her dragon lovers made of her & crowned herself the mother-fucking queen of herself. ”

@daughtersofeternity

[misternikola]

once upon

a time,

the princess

rose from the ashes

her dragon lovers

made of her

&

crowned

herself

the

mother-fucking

queen of

herself.

  - how’s that for a happily ever after?

The princess saves herself in this one - Amanda Lovelace

[cap-ironman]

2018 STONY Fairy Tale Bingo - Round-Up

Congratulations to everyone who has joined and completed the Fairy Tale Bingo — we've received 16 completed cards (and one black-out!) and over 100 fills by the end of the challenge! While the challenge deadline and round-up has passed, everybody who has a card is still more than welcome to continue creating works and sharing them on our Dreamwidth or LiveJournalcommunity, in the AO3 collection, or by posting it on Tumblr with the #capimanniversarybingotag until May 31. Check out all of the amazing works below, organized by fairy tales, and leave kudos, likes, comments, reblogs, and more to show these incredible creators how much you've enjoyed their work!

Alice in Wonderland

Cheshire Tony and the Blond-Rabbit by Breyito (Fic)

Down the Rabbit Hole and Straight to Wonderland by navaan (Fic)

Fill by kaitovsheiji (Art)

I Breathe When I Sleep by dreamkist (Fic)

SteveTony in Wonderland by adarksweetness/maniibear (Art)

We're all Mad here and it's Okay by ssyn3(Art)

Wondering in Underland by FrenchKey (Fic)

Beauty and the Beast

A Good Man and a Villain by navaan (Fic)

Beast of Brooklyn by enkiduu (Fic)

Bound by Roses by Fluffypanda (Fic)

It's Only Forever, It's Not Long at All by ssyn3 (Art)

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

The Beast You've Made of Me by ssyn3 (Art)

Cinder(ella)

A Hand of Silver and A Glove of Silk by a_salty_alto (Fic)

Cinderfella by jemionis-travels (Fic)

Sweet on You by FrenchKey (Fic)

There's a rock and a field and a collapsing sky by ssyn3 (Art)

The Emperor's New Clothes

A Quiet Morning by navaan (Fic)

I see plenty of clothes that I like, but I won't go anywhere nice for a while by ssyn3 (Art)

Mark Zero by enkiduu (Fic)

Steve’s New Groove by summerpipedream (Fic)

The Firebird and Princess Vasilisa

And you dare to Rise up from the Ash by ssyn3 (Art)

Anthony and the Firebird by adarksweetness/maniibear (Fic)

Fill by summerpipedream (Fic)

Not all that glitters is gold by Bill_Longbow (Fic)

Where The Red Sun Rises In Flame From Behind The Sea by Fluffypanda (Fic)

Frog Prince

Fill by Laireshi (Fic)

Is That You, Baby, Or Just a Brilliant Disguise? by ssyn3 (Art)

Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Goldie-Steve and the 3 Engineers by adarksweetness/maniibear (Art)

Please Don't Eat Me! by FrenchKey (Fic)

Steve Rogers and the Three Thefts by MarvelousMenagerie (Fic)

Take her out to eat like I'm hungry by ssyn3 (Art)

Hansel and Gretel

Cabin in the Snow by navaan (Fic)

Follow the Trail by adarksweetness/maniibear (Art)

The Red Witch by justanotherpipedream (Fic)

To Snatch You if You Fall by ssyn3(Art)

Tony Stark, Served Well Done by a_salty_alto (Fic)

Little Mermaid

Blue as the Prettiest Cornfower by Fluffypanda (Fic)

Eat Your Heart Out by enkiduu (Fic)

Fill by Breyito (Art)

Fill by hellogarbagetime (Art)

Fill by kaitovsheiji (Art)

It sounds an echo in my soul by ssyn3 (Art)

You and your heart by Bill_Longbow (Fic)

Little Red Riding Hood

And he showed me things, Many beautiful things by ssyn3 (Art)

Fill by��Breyito (Art)

Fill by kaitovsheiji (Art)

Just one kiss by Bill_Longbow (Fic)

Prince(ss) and the Pea

Fill by summerpipedream (Fic)

I just get tangled in the sheets by ssyn3 (Art)

The mechanic and the pea by Bill_Longbow (Fic)

The Prince(ss) Who Could Not Laugh

Enticing a smile to break through by Fluffypanda (Fic)

Fill by Laireshi (Fic)

Not a laughing matter by Bill_Longbow (Fic)

What a Prince and Lover Ought to Be by ssyn3 (Art)

Rapunzel

Behind the Garden Wall by MarvelousMenagerie (Fic)

Fill by hellogarbagetime (Art)

Just to Climb Back, Darlin by ssyn3 (Art)

Sleeping Beauty

A Kiss to Remember by Laireshi (Fic)

Break Me Out by ssyn3 (Art)

Dragons and Curses and Kisses (Oh My!) by MarvelousMenagerie (Fic)

Fill by hellogarbagetime (Art)

Snow Queen

Fill by hellogarbagetime (Art)

Fill by kaitovsheiji (Art)

The Cursed Mirror by a_salty_alto (Fic)

Weaving time in a tapestry by ssyn3 (Art)

Snow White

A Gentle Awakening by jemionis-travels (Fic)

A Man of the World, But Lost in a Dream by ssyn3 (Art)

Cute Guy, Please Don't Just Eat A Poisoned Apple by a_salty_alto (Fic)

Glass Coffin by Laireshi (Fic)

Heads by enkiduu (Fic)

Of Beauty Rare by dreamkist (Fic)

The Most Intelligent of Them All by FrenchKey (Fic)

Swan Maiden

Fill by kaitovsheiji (Art)

Reborn by Breyito (Fic)

The Pretty Fluttering Thing by dreamkist (Fic)

The Swan Prince by MarvelousMenagerie (Fic)

You'll Remain my Friend, My Friend until You’re Mine by ssyn3 (Art)

Thumbelina

Fill by Laireshi (Fic)

Heaven Isn't Too Far by dreamkist (Fic)

Lay me down in sheets of linen by ssyn3 (Art)

Tony’s Grand Adventure by jemionis-travels (Fic)

The Ugly Duckling

Evolution and Belonging by jemionis-travels (Fic)

Is my heart too broken? by ssyn3 (Art)

FREE SPACES

(Aladdin) Hips Don't Lie by jemionis-travels (Fic)

(Aladdin) Stevie and the Magic Lamp by adarksweetness/maniibear (Art)

(East of the Sun and West of the Moon) Tell Me the Way by dreamkist (Fic)

(Enchanted Quill) The Enchanted Quill-Eros Edition by Breyito (Fic)

(The Gift of the Magi) Pretty Paper, Pretty Ribbons by ssyn3, tisfan (Art, Fic)

(Hades and Persephone) Fill by enkiduu (Art)

(Hades and Persephones) Love Drunk Punch by summerpipedream (Fic)

(Morozko) The Winter King by MarvelousMenagerie(Fic)

(Mythology - Selkies) Ye Held Me Close, Ye Held Me Tight by Fluffypanda (Fic)

(The Nightmare Before Christmas) Shook the Bones of me by ssyn3 (Art)

(Orpheus and Eurydice) Fill by hellogarbagetime (Art)

(Orpheus and Eurydice) Wait For Me by a_salty_alto (Fic)

(Pinocchio) You broke the boy in me, but you won't break the Man by ssyn3 (Art)

(Red Thread of Fate) With This Red Thread You'll Know by navaan (Fic)

(Robin Hood) I'll get to you if I have to crawl by ssyn3 (Art)

(Rumpelstilzchen) Rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold by ssyn3(Art)

(Thomas the Rhymer) The Blacksmith's Vigil by FrenchKey (Fic)

(Town Musicians of Bremen) Fill by kaitovsheiji (Art)

We hope you enjoy all the works! (If any links are broken or incorrect, let us know and we'll fix them ASAP.)

[medea10]

Medea’s Anime & Game Superlative of 2017

Time to do the annual list I do once a year acknowledging the anime and games I played this year. So that means if an anime came out in like...1979, as long as I watched it this year, it counts for my list. Let’s get started! First Fandom of 2017: Blue Exorcist: Kyoto Saga I started Blue Exorcist back in 2013 and fell in love with the story instantly. However, I often wondered what came after the whole finally confronting Satan story of the anime. Don’t spoil it for me, I’m not caught up with the manga yet. So when they announced this anime was going to come back, I was all ready to watch Rin and Yukio in action. Despite the many reservations I had with this particular season, I was so excited for this season early this year and couldn’t wait for the latest episode to air each week. I am satisfied to hear back-stories from some of the minor characters like Bon, Shima, and Konekomaru. And of course any moment when Rin is about to punch someone in the face is always satisfying to watch! Rin grows quite a bit in this season so this season wasn't a complete waste. Plus Bryce Papenbrook slays it as Rin and we get another awesome song by UVERworld. Favorite Main Character of 2017: Oscar François de Jarjeyes (Rose of Versailles)

As I mentioned in my superlative list last year, Rose of Versailles was an anime I didn’t expect to get into, but enjoyed nevertheless. And as I continued watching this year, I was severely hooked on the main character, Oscar. I know Oscar is indeed a fictional character in a story that’s based on actual history. Which makes me wonder if history would be any different if Oscar truly existed? I felt for this woman, especially in those last 10 episodes of the series. Oscar is one of the toughest females in anime history with her attacks during the French Revolution and the turmoil she went through in her love life. I was rooting for her to succeed throughout the entire series. All the way up to standing up against the French Army, she does it all! Favorite Villain of 2017: Frieza (Dragon Ball Super) Why do I love the biggest assholes in the Dragon Ball series? I don’t know. Out of all the villains in this series, Frieza was my favorite. Despite during the Z series where it literally takes him around 10 episodes to try and blow up a simple planet! With Dragon Ball Super, he’s still pure evil! He ends up resurrected more than once (thanks a lot Goku). However, I really wish that he would have gotten more of an evil streak during this Universe Competition saga. I know he can’t kill anybody or he’d be disqualified, but he could do a little more other than just stand on a pirch and laugh at the pitiful fighters. But when he’s fighting the Saiyans (including other universe Saiyans like Cabba), he’s ruthless! Anyone else hoping to see him take on Jiren in the coming episodes? Favorite Video Game Character of 2017: Lillie (Pokemon Ultra Moon) Lillie, you’ve done it again! And you are THIS close to becoming my favorite in the anime (except I’m still a Lana fangirl). With the Ultra Sun/Moon games, Lillie definitely shows hutzpah in her actions. She goes to great lengths in order to save the pokemon Cosmog and would even go through dangerous situations in order to save her own mother (who verbally disowned her). What’s even better with these new games is that in the post-game, Lillie actually battles with a pokemon. AND IT’S FROM THE CLEFABLE LINE! Lillie actually battles alongside you with a Clefairy. If it means I get to fight against that genital wart, Faba with this little lady by my side, I am very satisfied! This is awesome! I’m glad we get this extra bit in these games since the previous version had Lillie traveling and we don’t see her after defeating the league. Favorite Game of 2017: Miitopia …It’s my own fault for getting hooked on Tomodachi Life back in 2014. Ever since then, I’ve been having so much fun with these Mii games. And Miitopia was no exception! Guys, it was either this game or one of the Freemium games the Japanese throw my way. But since I don't feel like getting into Idol Hell with Love Live, I'm going with the miis again. As for this game, I got to add my favorite characters of anime (like Tracey Sketchit), favorite characters on sitcoms, favorite celebrities, and all sorts of others to fight an evil Dark Lord. Better yet, this game doesn’t care in terms of gender. You can be a boy character and be a princess. You can make two men lovers! Plus browsing through all the miis there are was amusing. I can’t tell you how many Guy Fieri’s and Rick Sanchez’s I’ve seen come through my game. Plus, I had a lot of fun trying to kill Donald Trump and Celine Dion. These are the people I despise, deal with it. The one downside was having your face stolen and having it put on something absurd like a rock, a mouse, or a turkey’s ASS! WHY WOULD YOU ALLOW THAT TO HAPPEN?! Favorite Het Couple of 2017: Takeo Gouda x Rinko Yamato (My Love Story) THIS WAS SO ADORABLE! These two, together, the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen! I can’t believe it has taken me so long to watch this series. So this series revolves around a very, very, very, if the mother wasn't a former pro-wrestler, she would have split in half giving birth to him large high school freshman named Takeo falling in love with this petite girl named Yamato. I was amazed to find that they both confessed their feelings for each other so early in the series. And then have the rest of the series dedicated to their relationship blossoming! I know they’re only high school students, but seeing them do the simplest of things like holding hands or going on a date is downright adorable to see them do. Yamato sees past Takeo’s large exterior and sees that he is a sweet boy. I want this couple to thrive well into old age! Long live this ship! Favorite Yuri Couple of 2017: Ymir x Christa/Historia (Attack on Titan: Season 2) This year there were several Yuri couples that caught my eye (including couples from Love Live and Miss Kobayashi). But the one that stood out the most came from Attack on Titan’s second season. In the first season, I really never paid attention to Ymir x Christa. I think I was busy screaming out, “HOLY SHIT, THOSE ARE SOME FUCKED UP LOOKING TITANS!” When the chibi middle school spin-off came along, they laid it on kinda thick, especially on Ymir’s end. But this season is where it all came out. Particularly in the episode Historia! In this episode, we get a touching flashback of the two girls surviving in the harsh winter climate. Ymir did a lot in order to protect Christa, even exposing her giant secret. Both girls cared about each other enough so to confide in each other their dark secrets. I know this ship might die down when season 3 airs next July, but as for this season, we got plenty of this, and I couldn’t be any happier. Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2017: Grell Sutcliff x Sebastian Michaelis (Black Butler: Book of the Atlantic) Here I am again with this one-sided ship. Call it a long-time guilty pleasure. Okay, I’ll be honest. I didn’t watch that many anime this year where I was enthralled with two boys. Not like last year when Yuri on Ice aired! I almost gave a pity throwaway to Ash x Kiawe from Pokemon: Sun & Moon. But one thing I do remember and liked was when I went to the screening of Black Butler’s Book of the Atlantic. Because with Black Butler, you never know when a certain reaper in red is going to come swinging a chainsaw! And as I said before, this ship is heavily one-sided as Grell always wants Sebastian (either to make love to him or kill him…or both) and Sebastian finds him annoying and dodges his advances. But my fangirly heart still loves this ship. Besides, this isn’t the first time I’ve put this ship on my superlative list. Not even a boat-load of zombies can keep Grell away from his Sebas-chan! Eight years later and I still squeal anytime I see that! Fandom That You Didn’t Expect To Get Into: Sakura Quest In April this year, I picked a completely random anime that was brand new to start. I had no idea what it was about, I just jumped right into it. And what I found was a quaint story about a young girl who becomes queen of a very rural town. There are many fine animes that delve into the concept of living in a small, rural town and the colorful characters that live there. And honestly, I’m just glad that it didn’t end up with the people murdering each other (like Shiki or Higurashi). Instead, we get the main character Yoshino take part as the role of queen of the small kingdom. And with the help of four other girls from the town, they were able to bring life into their little town. I enjoyed many of these characters and fell in love with many of their back-stories. From Maki striving to be an actress to Ririko breaking out of her shell! Kadota wanting to make-up for his past mistakes he made in his youth, to Yoshino deciding on her future! Even though Yoshino wasn't too fond of the small village scene, she quickly adapted and learned that small towns like Manoyama can be just as fulfilling as big cities like Tokyo. Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Attack on Titan *singing incoherent Japanese gibberish* YEAGER! I didn’t think I was going to get into the Attack on Titan hype train this year as big as I did. Especially since it’s been 4 years since the previous season aired. Buckle up bitches! Despite this being only 12 episodes, this season was truly memorable and gave us MANY, MANY, MANY revelations. However most of that was from minor characters. Now this season did come with some irritating things. Like Levi and Jean being pushed to the side. Eren is like a hostage for what feels like half the season. And Mikasa turned into so much of a yandere, I think Yuno Gasai pissed herself. But aside from my nitpicky things, I really enjoyed this season of Attack on Titan. Not just with this season, but catching up with the manga as well. Because I’m not waiting until 2018 to learn about giant monkey man titan! Add to that, a bomb-ass opening theme by Linked Horizon, Eren fighting the armored and colossal titan, and Ymir x Christa, this was one hell of a season. Can’t wait for July 2018! Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Miss Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon This is something I’m currently watching…and boy is it crazy! I almost gave it to Mr. Osomatsu again, but then I see busty dragon ladies! Imagine if you will, opening your front door and finding a humungus dragon standing at your door step. You are either in an anime, stoned off your ass, still drunk, or this is just a dream. Well in this case it’s an anime…and Miss Kobayashi might have been hungover when she met Tohru. And because it’s an anime, why not have this dragon transform into a busty girl? Thanks Japan! And living with Tohru and the rest of the dragons is anything but simple. Since Tohru is going to be Kobayashi’s maid, she’ll have to cook (by she’s going to cut off her tail and cook it for her master), clean (by licking Kobayashi’s clothes with her tongue), and protect the home from intruders (by blowing any and all intruders to oblivion). Yeah, this anime is wacky with not only Tohru, but the other mythical creatures like Kanna, Fafnir, Elma, and one of animes BIGGEST PAIRS OF TITS I’VE EVER SEEN Lucoa. Last Fandom of 2017: Food Wars! Shokugeki no Soma: The Third Plate The third season of Food Wars is by far the BEST thing to air for Fall 2017 animes. Not just I think so, but friends and co-workers of mine agree. Fans of the show were finally treated to meeting rest of Totsuki Academy’s Elite Ten. Not only that, but learn a great deal of one of this anime’s most hated characters (as to why we hate her). As Totsuki is drenched in tradition, we see this tradition break by an uprising as an exiled member of Totsuki emerges and ends up taking over the academy. This leading to mass changes in curriculum with the students and the Shokugeki in danger of no longer existing! To which Soma Yukihira says, “Hold my beer. It’s time to cook.” Okay, he doesn’t exactly say that, but he definitely takes on the establishment (including several Elite Ten members) in order to protect his friends and colleagues of the school. And let’s not forget what this show also contains! FOOD ORGASMS! I will admit that the later seasons have toned down a bit on the food orgasms that’s shown. But when it does happen, it’s almost other-worldly due to who’s cooking the food. I would love to eat any of that food that they cook on this show…I just don’t want my clothes to rip off me while the food molests me both ways.

[theearlkindagay]

Inquisitor Bio

Name: Rosalind Gwendolyn Evelyn Trevelyan

Race: Human (Nobel)

Class: Rogue Dual Wielding.

Gender: Female

Sexual Preference: Pansexual.

Nicknames: Rosie (by members of her family). Rose (by a fair few others). Kadan/Boss (by The Iron Bull). Your Worship (styled title). Robin (by Varric)

Biography:

Born to Alec and Esme Trevelyan in 9:16 Dragon, Rosalind is the third oldest of five children and the oldest daughter. Born to be the Princess of Starkhaven her parent’s ambition for her ended when the Vael’s youngest son Sebastian was sent to the Chantry in Kirkwall for ‘unspecified reasons’, with her family’s plans for her in ruins Rosalind was allowed for the first time to decide her own path. After much consideration she decided she wished to extend her studies in The University of Orlais, and, after much resistance from her father, she did just that in 9:32 Dragon, she also chose to train to become a Bard at much the same time. She flourished in Orlais where her natural wit and charm was encouraged instead of being ignored. In particular, her religious and political views (considered ‘extreme and liberal to the point of absurdity’ by her family) were encouraged and debated on with her peers and professors. She quickly found herself employed as a Bard by multiple members of Empress Celine’s court and eventually by the Empress herself. She also found herself part of the Mage Rebellion, in particular The Underground movement, especially following her parent’s decision to mover her sister Cecilia from the Ostwick Circle to the Kirkwall one. Following the events of 9:37 Dragon Rosalind ceased her involvement in this issue and refocused her efforts as a Bard and Scholar as she believed her beloved sister had died in the events at Kirkwall and found her grief to be a weakness.

She found considerable success in both aspects of her life and even forged new alliances for the Trevelyan name. That was until her sister’s existence was made public in the Orleasian court by an ex-lover of hers and Rosalind was forced to play the martyr in order to gain the upper hand in The Great Game (it worked). This resulted in her being given an invitation to The Conclave in The Temple of Sacred Ashes from Divine Justinia V as her unique perspective would be ‘invaluable’. Ultimately this was a trap as The Trevelyan family had fallen out of favour as they had abandoned their own child (this goes against the Chantry’s teachings) as well as being a mocking gesture about the pamphlets and essays Rosalind had written over the years on Mage Rights and freedoms. Despite knowing this she still attended as not doing so would have been the death of her political and academic career. There she began noticing the strange actions of several participants and followed it back to Corypheous and the Grey Wardens under his control performing a ritual on The Divine and interrupted it, accidently becoming the Herald of Andraste in the process.

In game decisions:

v Allies with the mages

v Allies with The Grey Wardens

v Saves Hawke/ sacrifices Loghain

v Forces Celine, Gaspard and Briala to work together

v Supports Cassandra Pentaghast as Divine Victoria and the rebuilding of the Seekers of Truth

v Has Cole become more human

v Saves the Bull’s Chargers

v Pardons Thom Rainier/ Blackwall

v Drinks from the Well of Sorrows

v Has the Inquisition act as Divine Victoria’s personal honour guard

v Wishes to save Solas

v Tells Dorian about the letter

v Unhardens Leliana

v Sends assassins into The House of Reprose

v Tells Cullen to stay off lyrium

Friends/allies:

v Dorian Pavus

v Vivienne de Fer

v Varric Tethras

v Sera

v Cole

v Cassandra Pentaghast

v Josephine Montiyet

v Leliana

Neutral:

v Thom Rainier/ Blackwall

v Cullen Rutherford

v Solas

Romance: The Iron Bull

Personality:

Duty first. Raised in a religious household Rosalind often finds herself conflicted between what she was taught by her tutors and governesses in The Chants and by what she considers ‘right’. This shows itself most prevenantly in her opinions on Mages. Whilst she supports their rights and believes they deserve freedom she also believes they should be kept an eye on and did struggle with having to chose between them and the Templars. However, ultimately Rosalind will always side with those who have little to no voice as she believes it is her duty as a believer in the teachings of The Holy Andraste. Deeply honourable Rosalind was renowned for rarely killing a target and would often find a scandal that would humiliate them out of court but, depending on the noble, could be politically survivable in a generation or two. Prone to cynicism and dry wit Rosalind often uses her appearance to hide/ blend in with those around her, especially nobles, in order to gain useful information and is known for being as quick with a remark as with a dagger. Despite this Orleasian nobility would often look down their noses at her quant noble line, and she would similarly do the same to them for their self obsessed nature. Ultimately Rosalind has a survivalist mentality as, whilst she does look several steps ahead, she is prone to solving one crises at a time and tends to contradict herself as a result, e.g: with The Grey Warden treaties and with her own personal beliefs on conscription.

Personal beliefs:

Liberal at the core but her strict, conservative and Andrastian upbringing can show itself. Her sense of duty often causes her actions to clash with other members of the Inquisition and even her own family. Her years of bardic training and her own natural curiosity causes her to ask questions and search out infomation for any subject even if she doesn't always share it, especially considering her own secretive nature, as well as her past indescretions in The Great Game. A firm believer in The Maker and the teachings of the Holy Andraste she has a habit of defending her own religious beliefs with quotations and quick rhetoric.

Believes in The Circles and the Templar Order but considers it weighed down in political nonscence and believes mages should have freedoms, provided they have certain restrictions. Considers The Circles to be a place of learning and wishes they returned to that.