#'you held me like a secret but i kept you like an oath' ?????

[orqheuss]

one day i want my words to drive people to their knees like taylor swift's lyrics do

[natalievoncatte]

On Krypton, vows had meaning. Proclamations were not made lightly, and promises were not given casually. Kara’s peers wouldn’t throw one out as a reassurance, or to settle an argument. They were a logical people. They didn’t deceive, didn’t speak words they didn’t know to be true, and didn’t give opinions that were not informed. Society was ordered and regimented, and everyone put the greater good before themselves. So if you made a promise, no matter how great or how small, you would do it.

Kara learned, later in life, that a lot of her birth culture was, to use an English word that had no equivalent in her language, bullshit. Kryptonians would, she thought, claim that they had no use for such a vulgar term for cavalier prevarication because they did not practice it. That would had been a lie.

Her parents bullshitted her. They bullshitted her about the society she was growing up in. Her world wasn’t a real of perfect logic and order, it was a hidebound, decaying ex-empire that put tradition so irrationally high on a pedestal that they let their world be destroyed and all but a handful of their people wiped out because tradition said that her uncle was wrong about the planetary core going unstable.

Nevertheless, when Kara made a promise, she meant it. When she said she’d vowed to protect her adoptive home with her life, she meant it. Those words all but signed her life away in service to the cause. She was this way in everything, from saving the world down to brining Cat Grant a precisely prepared cup of coffee. Her promises meant something.

That was why she filled herself with dread the instant a promise, given unthinkingly in the heat of the moment, tumbled out of her mouth.

I will always be your friend, and I will always protect you.

She’d dishonored herself with the promise, one broken as it was made. She held Lena tight, speaking with conviction, and promised to be a friend even as she lied, swore to protect even as she deceived. It was a promise that couldn’t be kept no matter what she did.

Kara had become human in so many ways, and it gnawed at her. Another English word that had no exact Kryptonian equivalent was freedom. A proper Kryptonian would be horrified at ideas that boiled down to “I can do what I want”; I can choose my career, my partner, my life. I can put fulfillment ahead of the role chosen for me by those who know better. Yet Kara had embraced it full throated, making choices whenever she could.

The one thing she would never give up was the value of an oath.

She was over the Pacific, thinking. She would come out here from time to time to think and clear her head when the city soundscape became overwhelming, and just let herself drift in the air. There were no texts to agonize over, no emails from Snapper, nothing but herself and the lapping of waves and the distant rumble of storms over the open ocean.

She’d been coming out here more and more of late, not to think but to avoid thinking.

Because Lena knew, and Kara knew something was wrong. She could be dense about human behavior sometimes, but she was no fool… and she had super senses. She could read Lena’s pulse and see infrared flush of her skin and spot micro-movements of her eyes. Kara wanted desperately to believe that nothing was wrong but her instincts said otherwise.

When Kara told her, Lena had gone stock still and stared at her with what Kara thought was hatred, bringing tears. She’d tried to tell her how sorry she was, but Lena had just walked right past her and only later returned to her usual self.

Almost.

Kara had thrown herself into it, going on a campaign of what Alex had called ‘peacocking’ for some reason, all but burying Lena with super-stunts like fetching fresh pastries from French patissiers. Lena had smiled and thanked her but there was something flat and distant in it, and Kara ignored it and insisted that all was well.

Out here, with just the storms and her secrets, she knew it wasn’t.

Kara fingered the crest on her chest, worrying her thumb over the crimson fabric of the El rune. This meant something. It meant both ‘hope’ and ‘stronger together’; the two ideas were inextricably linked but her cousin only understood one of the meanings, because Kryptonian pictographic language was complex, and he was not Kryptonian in any way that mattered.

That was another great failing, a promise that Kara made but didn’t keep. By her people’s standards, there was no shame in that; one did not bear the responsibility of a promise made under duress, or a promise that others demanded knowing that it couldn’t be kept.

The only one she’d kept Kryptonian was herself, deep in a secret corner of her soul that meant it if she said she’d be at your birthday party or bring you a donut. The part that treated promises like promises.

There was only one way to cleanse herself, and remove her shame. She knew what it was, but she was afraid. Kara had battled monsters and gods, faced death more than once, lost more than any person should have to lose in a dozen lifetimes, but there was one thing she feared above all others.

She feared that first honest look on Lena’s shocked face more than she feared an eternity without stars. She could live in the void between realities; a void without Lena would kill her more surely than any green poison.

Now. She had to do it now, before she lost her nerve. She flew back to the city, flew hard, slowing only to land on Lena’s balcony, softly. As she raised her hand to knock on the glass of the door, she hesitated, nearly turned back.

Lena opened it, and Kara let out a slow breath. Lena was wearing only a loose, flowing floral robe, with clearly nothing beneath it. Terror made her listen- if Lena had a guest in that state, Kara might just fling herself into the sun and be done with it.

She was alone. Lena shifted on her feet.

“Why are you all wet?”

Kara’s hair was damp with sea spray and she’d flown through a few clouds on her way back.

“I like to fly over the ocean and think.”

“Well, come in here already. Let me get you a towel. Do you want something to change into?”

Kara swallowed hard. No. She wanted the honor of her family on her chest right now. She needed it to make her brave, like her father said it would when he sent her into the void. She did take the towel.

Lena had been enjoying her tea and sad breakfast -toast with jam- before Kara arrived. She left it on the counter and sat on her couch, leaving Kara to pace.

“I can tell you’re upset,” said Lena. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything,” said Kara. “I have a lot to say and I don’t know how to say it. I haven’t told you the full truth and I have to. I need to. It’s eating me alive inside.”

Lena swallowed hard, her heart racing.

“Please don’t tell me you’re Batman, too.”

“Lena, this is serious.”

Kara swept across the room and knelt in front of her, and Lena’s eyes shot open wide in surprise. Kara looked at the carpet in front of her, unable to look Lena in the eye.

“A long time ago, I promised you I’d always take care of you, and I didn’t. I was lying to you when I said it and I lied to you for years after.”

“Kara…”

“Please,” desperation choked her voice, “let me finish. I owe you the full truth. I promised, and promises are sacred to Kryptonians. My soul will be stained forever unless I fulfill the oath I made.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Yes it was,” said Kara. “It was to me. It was everything to me. Please.”

Lena cleared her throat. “Okay.”

“I told you I lied to you to protect you. That was another lie. That’s not why I did it. I lied because I was weak and I put my own feelings ahead of doing what was right. I was scared. I was scared that if you knew it would change how you saw me and it would change our relationship. You were the only person I could almost be myself with and I didn’t want that to change. You were a safe person I could go to without having to be Supergirl.”

Lena was studying her, a soft hint of skepticism in her expression.

Kara stood up and paced.

“I don’t know how to do this, Lena. I may act human and look human but I’m not. I grew up on another planet with another culture and so many things about this world are just totally different from how I was raised.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“On Krypton we didn’t have queerness. People didn’t value freedom of choice. You did what society told you to do. You joined the guild you were pledge to at birth and married the person you were told to marry and had the offspring you were told to have and raised them to do the same thing. The same fucking thing.”

Lena sat up at Kara’s sudden, vehement profanity.

“I didn’t know the word freedom until I arrived here. I had no concept of it. I had no idea how fragile and precious it is. Sure, I talked about it and wrote essays about it in school, but I didn’t get it. Not until I met you.”

Kara looked at Lena.

“You are my freedom. You’re the first thing I’ve ever chosen, really chosen, in my life, besides being Supergirl. It was you that made me look Cat Grant and Alex both in the eyes and say ‘no, this is what I want, this is how it’s going to be for me and it’s my choice, not yours.’ Back home I never, ever would have even thought what I’m about to say now.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“I was afraid to tell you because I was afraid it would change our relationship. I was afraid you’d hate me because I kept the secret too long, but I was also afraid of what has to come after confessing my identity to you, Lena. The next part is even harder.”

“Kara,” Lena began.

“I have feelings for you.”

Lena went still, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“I want to be myself with you. My whole self, my real self. Not the person I think I have to be to please someone else. I want to tell you everything you want to know about my home and my people and my life and I want to know everything about you. I want to hear you laugh for me and see the look in your eyes when you’re happy to see me. I want to care for you when you’re sick and hold you when you’re sad and be the person that matters to you like you matter to me.”

Kara sucked in a deep breath.

“I used to think I was happy just being Kara with you. Not being Kara Danvers or Kara Zoe-El, just me… but I’m not me without both of those pieces and being without them isn’t good enough. I want you to know the real me. The girl from Krypton who went to high school in California.”

Lena stood up slowly, clearly forcing her breathing even. She adjusted her robe around herself, and looked at Kara for too long a time, silent.

“I hurt you when I promised I’d protect you and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“What do you want from me? To tell you it’s okay?” said Lena. “Is that what you want? Because it’s fucking not.”

Kara flinched. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Lena had given her this courtesy and she’d give it in return.

“It wasn’t just you, Kara. I built my whole life around you and your friends and they became my friends. You gave me a normal world. I got to be a regular girl when I was with you and the others. Do you have any idea what that means to me? What you did to me when you ripped it away? Do you have any idea how you’ve torn me to shreds?”

Kara choked a little, and tried to hold back the tears, and failed.

“I killed Lex. I killed him and I hid his body, myself. I killed my brother for you. And the worst part is I’d do it again. If it was him or you I’d kill him again.”

Cold dread flooded through her.

“That was my fault. That was exactly the kind of thing that I should have protected you from, and I failed you." Kara's breath hitched as she bit back a sob. "I should go."

Lena moved quickly and grabbed her arm tight. "Don't you fucking dare leave. You can't just say those things to me and leave."

Kara's nostrils flared as she sucked in a big breath.

"Lex told me who you were as he was dying. He showed me."

Kara looked at her. "Oh."

"I started to hate you. I started to believe the things he said about you. And what happened then? You told me! You just blurted it out!"

Lena choked down a sob of her own, and something in Kara shattered. Tentatively, carefully, Kara pulled her into a gentle hug, and Lena let her.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Lena whispered into Kara's chest. "I've lost everything."

Kara held her closer, breathing the soft scent of her shower-damp hair.

"I don't know what to do either," Kara admitted. "I just knew I couldn't bear to lie to you again, even by omission. I'll go if you want."

"You're not leaving," said Lena. "I don't want you to go. Promise you won't leave me."

Kara shivered. "Lena…"

"Promise."

"I promise," Kara whispered.

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 5

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

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His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. Bucky could hardly breathe as the king’s words cut through him like a sword against his neck. The sting of the blade pricking his skin was sharp, and a trickle of blood ran down to the sword’s edge.

“Because my daughter is fond of you, and I owed your father, you think I’d let you roam free?” Leonard pressed the sword against Bucky's neck, the blade pricking his skin until a small drop of blood trickled down.

The king saw the blood and smirked. He pushed Bucky away and wiped the blood off the blade.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to gather his composure.

“How dare you and other rats try to demolish the monarchy,” Leonard sneered. “Kneel!”

Bucky immediately fell to his knees. “I cannot express how foolish I am, my king.”

The tyrant king scoffed. “So you still see me as your king?”

Bucky kept his gaze down. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Repeat the oath you swore to serve the kingdom,” Leonard commanded.

Bucky clenched his fist. “I, James Buchanan Barnes, as General of Veridian, swear my life to serve the kingdom and give my loyalty to King Leonard Damon II!”

“Say it again!” Leonard barked.

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, as General of Veridian, swear my life to serve the kingdom and give my loyalty to King Leonard Damon II!”

“Again!” Leonard’s voice thundered.

Each time Bucky repeated the oath, it felt like his pride and life were being trampled on. He could just take Leonard’s life right now, but if he did, he would be branded a traitor.

“You look pitiful, James,” Leonard chuckled.

Bucky’s feelings were a tumultuous storm of anger, shame, and helplessness. The humiliation burned in his chest, but he kept his expression stoic, knowing he couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

“I knew you were an idealistic person. Seeing you like this must be difficult for you.” Leonard shook his head.

“I take pride in the name of the tyrant king because of the sacrifices I made to get this throne,” Leonard said, his voice dripping with menace.

“And you?! A boy like you tried a coup d'etat?” His face contorted in fury, his eyes blazing with rage.

“I will take full responsibility, Your Majesty,” Bucky replied, his voice steady despite his fear.

“Don't worry, James. You will get the responsibility.” Leonard’s voice held a sinister note.

Bucky’s breath hitched at the tone of the tyrant king, as if Leonard had caught him in a snare. Bucky lifted his face to see Leonard’s expression, trying to read the king's intentions.

The tyrant king stood taller, dominating the room like a predator that had cornered its prey. “As we speak, my secret guard has captured your little group,” Leonard said, his voice dripping with malice.

“I will crush you, take everything you have, and turn you into an obedient lapdog for my daughter,” Leonard spat. His words were like venom, seeping into Bucky’s blood and poisoning his spirit.

Leonard leaned down, his eyes gleaming like a lion gazing at a helpless rabbit. “Do you know why I succeeded in taking the throne from my brother?”

Bucky stayed silent, but understanding dawned on him, and his heart sank.

“That’s right. There was a traitor among them who took my side. Same with you. There’s a traitor among your ranks.” Leonard’s smirk widened as he saw the realization hit Bucky.

Bucky felt trapped in a tornado, his mind whirling with the betrayal. Among his group, the strong brotherhood that shared the same goal, someone had turned against them. The thought was a knife twisting in his gut.

Leonard gave a strong pat on Bucky’s shoulder, his grip firm and condescending. “This is the last mercy you will receive from me. I let my only child marry you because that’s what she asked of me.” Leonard’s tone was a chilling reminder of the power he held over Bucky’s life.

The way Leonard spoke made it clear: Bucky was alive only because of you. He owed his life to you, and that debt weighed heavily on him.

👑👑👑👑👑

In another room, you are excitedly planning your dream wedding with the royal event planner. Your closest servants, who know this wedding is all you’ve ever wanted, join in with enthusiasm. The room buzzes with ideas and laughter, the air filled with joy and anticipation.

Suddenly, Bucky enters the room, his face pale and his movements tense.

“You leave us alone,” you order the servants, who quickly obey and exit the room.

You approach Bucky, touching his face gently. “Did my father do something?”

Bucky quickly grasps your hand and shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Well, it’s normal for a father to be stern, knowing his daughter will be taken away.”

His words hold some truth, but you can see there’s more to it. Your father must have said something to make Bucky this pale.

Just then, Marvin, the master of the household, enters the room, catching both you and Bucky off guard. “Forgive my rudeness, Your Highness,” he says with a bow, then heads to reach the TV remote.

The screen lights up with a news headline: “Group of Rebels Captured. The rebels were found in their hideouts. Veridian Intelligence successfully apprehended them. It was the king’s order to ensure the country’s safety.”

You gasp, “There’s a rebellion?” The news surprises you, but deep down, you understand the reason. Your father has wiped out all his enemies, but the problems persist.

Behind the smiles, compliments, and bows that you and the king receive, you know some of them harbor deep-seated hatred.

Beside you, Bucky clenches his fist, his knuckles white. His comrades have been captured, and the weight of guilt settles heavily on his shoulders. He feels the sting of betrayal, the pain of seeing those he fought alongside fall into the king’s trap.

“They haven’t done anything bad, yet,” you say, your voice trembling. You turn to Bucky, seeing the turmoil in his eyes.

“They were just trying to fight for what they believed in,” you continue, your voice soft but firm. “But I can’t condone violence either. There must be another way.”

Bucky looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude. In that moment, it was as if a breath of fresh air had swept through him. You understood him, and that understanding meant everything.

“I’ll tell the king not to impose a heavy punishment,” you said, turning off the TV and heading toward Leonard’s study. As you walked away, you felt Bucky’s hand gently grasp yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Not fully understanding the depth of his gratitude, you shrugged lightly. “I’ll see you later.” With that, you left, leaving Bucky alone in the room.

As the door closed behind you, Bucky's legs felt weak. He sank to his knees, the weight of his despair pressing him down. The room seemed to close in on him, a metaphorical cage of his own making. The echoes of his own thoughts reverberated in his mind like the clanging of bars, a relentless reminder of his entrapment.

His breathing was shallow, his chest tight with a mixture of anxiety and frustration. Bucky’s fingers trembled as he clutched the carpet, his knuckles white. The crushing reality of his situation settled over him, the hope he’d clung to now feeling like a distant dream.

He felt utterly isolated, trapped in a labyrinth of betrayal and duty. The warmth of your hand lingered on his skin, a fleeting reminder of the life he wished he could have—a life free from the tyranny he now faced.

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Diplomatic Concerns. (russingon, on ao3).

When they did at last come together, it did not feel like an inevitability to Maedhros. Far easier it was to believe - to contrive - ways in which they might betray themselves, and allow their understanding to betray their people.

This, they both agreed, could not be permitted. Maedhros would have loved Fingon less, if he had been willing to brave the storm of opposition and defiance their open courtship would cause.

His people had cause, just cause to stand against it; and Maedhros had his own brothers and vassals to rule over, in less official fashion, without the benefit of official authority to put them in place if it prove needed.

They pledged their troth under the stars, a wordless promise with no bitter oath to mar it; and thereafter took the greatest care and discretion that none guessed at it.

-

It was some effort, Maedhros admitted, if only in their very secretive correspondence, written on hidden wink in the back of their official missives.

His mouth ached, his arms felt emptier - poetry, he found, spoke to him beyond the pleasure of precise meter and rhyme.

It was absurd; it was dangerous. Always he kept Fingon swept from his mind, lest some of his heart bleed through enough to be perceived; and always it was work, to keep Fingon out of the forefront of his thinking.

And it was mortifying, too. To be infatuated, to have a joy to hide, to know himself cherished and desired - he could not have bourne it to be known, not easily.

It was only some consolation to know Fingon found his pining ardor very pleasing, being that he was at too great a distance to do much with that. As a matter of fact, it made it all the more torturous.

This lasted all through the first fortnight of the autumn summit.

Maglor looked at him indulgently. “How many horses can Fingon possibly need? Nay, not at all. You must give him the best foal, and rear it by your hand, and drape it in Fingon’s raiment and colours, and teach it the signals he favours. Quality, not merely quantity! Do you hear me wasting breath on too many love songs? There must be a measure, by which things are made precious.” 

“You were song-wed by proxy fashion to an ascetic zither-master you knew from correspondence only, and met thrice every ten yéni,” Maedhros told him. 

Maglor shrugged. “Once every ten yéni was enough. It made the anticipation all the sweeter.” 

Maedhros raised all three colts to perfect training. If some of his braids were chewed away, and much of the fur of his best coats, then at least Fingon was suitably impressed.

-

None guesses at our affections, Maedhros amended on his next letter, besides Maglor, and his silence is our boon. Fingon was swift to tease him for that - and in truth he had barely bothered to hide it from Maglor.

There was little use; therefore he worried little. All the rest of his brothers held their own domains, were occupied with their duties - if it became pressing, he could always invent a new task to distract their tracks.

He had forgotten Caranthir. Caranthir never needed to be given new directions; if anything, he excelled at taking attentive initiative, especially on matters of international commerce.

“I,” Maedhros said. “Have never offered any thing, to lord or vassal, besides gifts of friendship, and diplomacy, and cunning morsels of what might attained with a better trade arrangement.” 

“Explain to me how Fingon’s newest gem-crown counts as a diplomatic expense,” Caranthir demanded.

-

Besides Caranthir and Maglor, none noticed. 

The next time they met - a well-prepared hunting retreat, and the anticipation did have a certain strain of pleasure in it - it was only some time after the first enthusiastic greetings that they found time and patience to speak at lenght about their dealings, those small or great matters they had not trusted even to set to hidden writing.

 "Did you -”

"I told none. Besides those who know."

“Are you entirely certain. Amras and Amrod keep sending me cured meats? Excellent sausages for my table, and lovely truffles. For some reason; they did not last year.”

"They are not poisoned," Maedhros assured automatically. Then hesitated. "They do like to experiment with spices and certain powders, however."

"I noticed," Fingon said, mouth curved. It was a lovely smile, better for being not amused; Maedhros suffered the rather stupid instinct to kiss his cheek. "Around the time the sugared mushrooms caused an apparition of a great mammoth grazing upon my father's head as we sat in public Council. It appeared purple to my eyes, the mammoth; also my father."

Maedhros had suffered great torments of the flesh and spirit; the image made him wince with genuine feeling. Fingolfin kept a very eclectic conjunction of lords near him, Sindar and Noldor and Avari, all of them clever, cunning, far-seeing people with an unhappy habit of keeping a wide awareness to every stray thought that they might fish out slyly round them on a wide range of space. It made Maedhros feel unusually warmly towards his straightforward, stone-silent dwarves and the fierce, scarred, closed minds that came to serve Himring. 

"You need to string them up from a high tower," Maedhros concluded. "You shall have their apologies in a season."

"Need is a strong word," said Fingon. But his mouth was twitching, more genuinely.

Through the place where their spirits pressed together he passed on the faint, kaleidoscopic memories of that afternoon - Maedhros had stifle his own crinkling eyes. It was impossible not to admit Fingolfin did look rather fetching in tints of purple; and the mammoth was very realistic.

"If you want them to redeem themselves, have them send more next year. I would rather have enjoyed them in privacy. Lalwen thought it was very amusing. Eventually; she stole the rest of the bounty, and left me none at all, which was very like her and rather a disappointment. If your brothers are found wandering the wilds naked and intoxicated, you shall find no way to prove it was her work."

"They will enjoy it too much." Maedhros thought of when the twins's nonsense had been joyful, once. And involved less paperwork. The worst of it was that they likely thought it a good gift.The twins had ever liked Fingon well enough, as much as they liked anyone outside their enclosing understanding.

Fingon turned around, with that sweeping grace that made him deadly. In a moment he had rolled them over. His hands dug into the loam around Maedhros's head; his legs tangled in him, pressing down, delicious.

There you are, he thought, directly at Maedhros. No distance at all, and his laughing mind dizzying like a windfall, a sweeping rush. You stay away too often, Russandol, even here.

"Let them," he said, voice low and warm, close enough Maedhros could feel it thrum in his own throat. He was so very warm. Maedhros's whole body felt alive under him, as if he were fresh from a battle; as if it could feel alive and joyful with no violence. "I mean to enjoy myself with a clear mind. I mean to recall you perfectly while we are apart."

-

Maedhros, rather wisely, he thought, kept any commissioned tokens away from familiar forges.

It was a marvel, the inspiration which which Curufin could contrive as an insult. In this he truly was Fëanor's heir.

I will not have any of our Father's house be known for offering substandard works, he wrote, a stiff note of parchment atop a casket.

Inside the casket was a treasure - elf-made emeralds, and rubies, fine gleaming garnets that caught the golden light from the candles and would assuredly shine beauteously strung around golden ribbons, and on the chained earrings Fingon favoured.

 Keep those Dwarven pieces away from Fingolfin and his ilk, lest he rethink our work agreements. Have you lost your sense, along with your shame? Findekáno's not the least suited to Belegost's blue-steel and sapphires, they wash him out terribly, I do not know how Fingolfin can be so tasteless in his heraldry as not to consider it.

-

Maedhros recalled a time when his brother at least pretended to attend to elvish mores, those small contrivances of decent conduct. Such as pretending at ignorance. Pretending at ignorance had been a good habit, one Huan's master remembered these days merely when it was convenient for him.

Celegorm only looked at him in a flat vulpine fashion, nostrils flaring. Worse than a smirk, worse than mischief. Maedhros had seen it turned on others often enough; he could not say he enjoyed the very unpleasant awareness with which it remind everyone of all the passionate embraces they may or may not have indulged in the wild, where a little bird might carry gossip, or a finicky squirrel pass on mockery.

It also made him rethink the wisdom of wearing Fingon's undershirt under his tunic.

"Not a word," he ordered.

Celegorm only whistled in wolf-like fashion and darted away from his swing.

The next time Fingon dared him for a swim after a lengthy ride up the hills of Barad Eithel, Maedhros quite ruined the romance of it all by insisting on raising a tarp-and-leather tent beforehand.

-

Huan had the good grace to wait until they passed each other on an empty corridor before stopping to block his path.

Oromë's hunting hound looked at him with those terribly knowing dark eyes and let out a soft snorting sound. It was not a very approving woof; a little mournful, perhaps. Maedhros did not speak Hound.

"Do not you start also," Maedhros said. His tone held little effort, as it ever did in these cases.

He had to fight the instinct to cross his arms. He refused to be easily biddable or intimidated. As a matter of principle; he had few of those, and it tended to be better to keep to those he did maintain.

Woof-woof, said Huan.

"We are all Doomed regardless," argued Maedhros.

A sniff, rather pointed. A little charming, perhaps - none of his brothers had offered, so far.

"It is very generous of you to offer," Maedhros said. "No biting will be necessary. I would rather Fingon whole as he may."

Huan licked his bad arm. Shifting ears, which, in all honesty, were insulting. 

"I am not letting myself be carried off as a mate to establish a new collective dynamic as pertaining previous intra-community competitions," Maedhros said, rather stiffly. "No, not though I was stolen from the Enemy for that purpose."

Maedhros did not speak Hound, as such; but Huan and him understood each other a little. If anyone was going to look at him with the knowledge that Maedhros would have let himself be carried off as a prize, and possibly did not dislike the notion, he would rather it was him.

"I will bring you some of that good hind meat from Dor-Lómin," he conceded, eager to bribe him away.

Huan's dog-grin finally widened. Maedhros, relieved to be free from evaluation, scratched his chin until his wagging tail was thumping the carpet. Some relatives, he thought, were harder to please than others.

-

"We have failed at every avenue," Maedhros concluded, as displeased as he could stand to be just then. "Let this be not a sign of our joined efforts to come!"

Fingon was rather less moved at their failure than Maedhros would have expected. Possibly that was the effort of the long ride to the fortress, and their - reunion. Maedhros did not want him alarmed and on his feet, as such; but he did eye his complacence a little.

"Brothers are not Balrogs. It could be worse," Fingon said, very confidently.

Maedhros lifted his head from Fingon's chest. His own eyes were growing half-lidded; his muscles too felt weary, suffused still with satisfaction. Himring's walls, warm within like a living body, rumbled faintly with the noise of their gaseous pipes. He was warm, and sated, and all in all quite in accord with the form of the world, at least for the foreseeable candle-mark.

It was only that he had not trusted messengers to pass on the news; and he had felt an urgency to share the state of affairs with Fingon for months. They had determined to be fully discreet.

"How?"

"Turgon and Aredhel might return," Fingon said promptly. His voice showed he had considered the matter at great length, and was very amused by the way Maedhros went still against him. "And be less generous with their blindness than the rest of my - our kin."

"They might not have noticed. Your father has not."

Fingon lifted himself on his elbow, and looked at him, a little pityingly.

"Beloved," he said. "Whom do you think invented the art of invisible writing?"

[thewisaaaaad]

HAHAHA THE CLIFFHANGER SHALL... hang... some more i guess.

idk where i was going with that

anyway remember when I said that the lamb couldn't be around anyone but Narinder, and how they vanished whenever someone else would have seen them?

well I might have fibbed A LITTLE.

when the lamb ceased to be because of narinder having company, they ended up in the void, a realm of shadows. the very same shadows that the Teeth in the Darkness retreats to during the day. Even though the void is vast, fate saw it fit that they would meet sooner rather than later.

At first the Fox held no faith in the lamb. no one else, besides the teeth himself, should have access to their domain. and this lamb was FAR too exited to fit with the tale they spun, the dammed lamb had to have found a way to pierce their defenses and aim to take something from them.

Hypnos, for their part, was ECSTATIC about having someone other than Nari to talk to. especially when they couldn't talk for a while due to his "god duties". (hypnos still didn't understand why he insisted on doing sermons and aiding his followers if it was so stressful for him.)

the best part was when hypnos grabbed the foxes cloak to stop him from leaving.

it was the first time they felt something besides their own cloak. they had reached out without the expectation of grabbing anything, as they had never done it successfully before, but it had stopped narinder in the past.

but then hypnos felt it slip through their fingers. the coarse fabric of the tattered cloak burning their fingers slightly as it slipped away.

The fox hissed at the small tug at their robes, turning around to face the lamb, rage infusing their entire being, that some lesser being had dared to lay a finger on their person, and was met with the stunned expression of the lamb.

“I touched you.”

“How astute of you, meat. You should let me tear you apart for the honor.”

Hypnos, completely unperturbed by the threat, looked at them with shining eyes that seemed to reflect a light that didn’t exist in the void, and began to babble about their entire life story, about WHY their touch was so important.

The Teeth, naturally, were taken aback by this complete lack of fear, and the implicit trust that this creature seemed to put on them.

Needless to say, he was FASCINATED by the gall that this lamb showed to the king of the shadows.

Lamb made a promise to never tell Nari about this little meeting, and the lamb kept all further rendezvous clandestine to their partner. Hypnos could keep one secret, right? What's the harm?

After that, they would stay and chat whenever the night and the gods' ceremonies intersected.

The fox was a bad influence on the lamb, teaching them to hold onto grudges and to disregard the worth of lives deemed lesser, and tempted them with descriptions of the savory flavors of raw sentient flesh. 

One good trait that the lamb learned from the fox was that one should ALWAYS keep their promises. The fox was a demon, and so was bound to the word of their oaths. But the fox went further, and always honored the SPIRIT of the agreement, and despised those who tried to wiggle their way out of a promise, like ratau. 

Ratau only still lived because the lamb had told him that The One Who Waits favored the rat, so they got off with a lighter sentence of having their family torn apart. No additional harm was done to ratau, so therefore, no ire was to be gained from TOWW.

Totally not because he found the rat fascinating. He wanted to feast on his corpse, and was only sparing him to spare himself from the ire of a god. That was all. really.

[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.2 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 1. Chapter 3.

Strolling the Streets

CW: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, mentions of Umbara Arc, mentions of Pong Krell, Crying, Grief, Fives crying is his own warning, angst, swearing, anti-clone propaganda, kissing, tickling, some fluff, anti-jedi sentiment, Death mention at the end

Tag list, Thank you for reading!: @spicydonut25 @amazonian-bae

You returned to your apartment with Fives. As soon as his armor was removed, he crawled into your bed and fell asleep in his blacks. The poor ARC trooper wasn’t even under the blankets when he passed out.

Sitting on the bed next to him, you stroked his cheek softly with one hand. The other held a datapad, with all the information and scans the 501st doctor had sent. 

ANOMALY: right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

Anomaly…

Based on the scans, there was a massive chance this was beyond the 501st legion. Every clone had this anomaly. And theories ran through your head. 

Was this a defect of the cloning process?

A mutation from their base DNA?

This…anomaly would be figured out soon you guessed. This wasn’t a secret to the medical personnel you knew. These scans were sent to almost every nat-born doctor in the Grand Republic Medical Facility. and those interested were going to look deeper into them. 

Granted, if any of them broke confidentiality oaths, that would be their career, job and any social standing in the medical field. 

Fives shifted, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingers. You looked down, your eyes meeting his own. 

“Hi,” You smiled softly, “How are you feeling?” 

“Better, knowing an angel was looking over me.” He smirked back, shifting to sit up. 

You snorted, putting the datapad down to hold him close. The trooper leaned into your side, closing his eyes again. 

Fives was exhausted. That much was clear. Umbara had taken so much out of him.

Ruthless fighting. Hardcase, and so many other soldiers were killed. Pong Krell, a Jedi, being a traitor. 

And ARC trooper, along with his other brothers, were expected to shoulder it all and continue on like it was nothing. 

“Do you need to get back to the barracks or can you stay with me?” You asked softly, “I don’t want you…” 

To be alone. You nearly said. The truth was, Fives wasn’t alone. He had the troopers. His fellow clones. 

Vode, he called them. His brothers.

You settled on asking something else, “Do you want to stay here?”

“May i?” Your lover sounded relieved when you asked, “I…I want to be with you.” he always did love the sense of domesticity he got from staying in your apartment.

“Of course-!” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he cut you off.

He pounced on you, causing you to fall back onto your bed. The trooper was over you, peppering your face in kisses. You halfheartedly tried to push him off, giggling as he kept pecking your skin. However, he started tickling you, making you laugh. 

“F-Fives!” you were breathless, wrapping your arms around his chest, “Fives stop it!” His hands were everywhere on you, bringing out just delightful laughs from your lips. Until he stole them into a kiss. 

You wanted to remain like that for a while, just taking in his presence. However, he pulled away and buried his face in your shoulder. 

“I love you,” He murmured, “I love you.” Ever so slightly, Fives trembled, “I love you…” Warm tears seeped through your clothes, telling you his mental state.

He’s breaking down again. 

You kept him close, keeping your arms around his chest, “I love you too, Fives.” your words were a soft, gentle whisper.

The both of you remained there, tangled in each other's presence for the rest of the night. You refused to let him go, not until he drifted to sleep again. This time though, he managed to get under your blanket, snuggling close into your body. 

Before you fell asleep as well, your eyes settled on your forgotten datapad.

You had a bad feeling about that anomaly…

Apparently so did your supervisor, because you were informed the next morning that she, along with some members of the ethics committee, had organized a meeting with Kamino. Several rotations later, they boarded a transport ship and left Coruscant. 

You, however, continued your usual job. When Dr.Mila was away, you held down her specific fort in the medical facility. Which, to your heartache, took time away from Fives. 

The only consolation was the fact that the ARC trooper had his own orders and duties. Especially after being one of the clones to fire on Pong Krell. He was questioned about what happened. From landing on Umbara to leaving. 

The Jedi were ruthless. Unable to come to terms that one of their own had done such intense damage to the GAR. Every night afterward, he came to your apartment, hyperventilating and sobbing. He was forced to relive it all, over and over again for the Jedi. 

The only support he had during these interrogations were Ahsoka and Anakin trying to put a stop to the questions. 

While you didn’t like the Jedi, you truly appreciated those two. They were good. They were kind and determined. Everything a Jedi should be. 

You weren’t alone in your opinions either. Everyday you heard colleagues and patients alike gossip about how the Jedi were no longer the defenders of peace. They were political pawns, acting on the  whims of the senate. 

You’ve never told your ARC trooper lover. He was loyal to the Republic and the Jedi, you couldn’t tell him your thoughts. So you kept silent about the generals. He most likely knew, after all, it was hard to ignore the rising ire over the war.

You were still vocal about your support for clones and clone rights, of course. However, other individuals didn’t say the same. Just like the Jedi, the clone troopers were also facing the rising levels of dissent and loathing. 

It was hard to ignore now. You stepped outside into the Coruscant air, taking a deep breath. On a light pole right outside the medical facility was a fresh flimsi sign in bright colors and anti-clone imagery.

As Natural as a Droid Army! The poster read loudly. 

Fives was waiting for you, leaning against the light pole, arms crossed. His eyes were closed, as if trying to ignore such a hateful message. It broke your heart.

Pathetic assholes, you huffed, approaching the pole and ripping the poster down. Angrily, you shredded it into smaller pieces before tossing them to the ground. Someone scoffed as they walked past you, another person let out a quiet, ‘finally it’s gone’. It was clear that many others still supported the troopers.

Good.

“Thank you, mesh’la.” He murmured, standing straight, “If I took it down, I would have been arrested.” 

“Ignorant asshole,” you mumbled, greeting him properly with a peck on the lips, “Care to walk me home, my dear?” 

He smirked, “If you want me to.” There was a deep sadness in his brown eyes. As if the poster did more damage to him than he let on. You read the clone in front of you easily, you didn’t mention it. 

Your smile was genuine as you interlocked your fingers with his, “I’d like that.” You leaned into his side, letting him drape an arm over your shoulders. He needed more support than he was letting on and you’d be happy to provide.

The two of you strolled the Coruscant streets. Even at night the entire planet was alive with people, vehicles, lights and sounds. You and your lover shared gossip to each other, the latest whispers in the army as you walked home. 

You giggled as he told you some wild rumor that Cody and General Secura were in a relationship. It was, of course, false but hearing such ridiculous things helped Fives get his mind off of…everything. 

As you hit the street where your apartment building was located, you tugged his arm, leading him elsewhere. 

“Wrong way, mesh’la,” He raised a brow, “Unless you're taking me on an adventure.”

“There's a new bakery that's opened up down the block,” You informed him, “I’m in the mood for something sweet.” 

Fives’ steps followed yours. He squeezed your hand as you weaved around those who also walked the streets. Perhaps he knew this was your attempt to help him feel better. Or maybe he was just happy to have a normal date with you. Especially after Umbara and the Jedi questioning.

You found the bakery and within minutes you and him were sharing a piece of overly rich cake. The amount of sugar was almost too much, but you didn’t care. The best part of eating such a sweet thing was who you shared it with. 

The ARC trooper in front of you looked lovely under the warm and welcoming light. His eyes reflected overhead lamps, making them burn with a warm amber color. 

Handsome. So handsome… you were certain you had hearts floating around your head at this point.

Fives caught you staring dreamily. He gave you a cheeky grin, “See something you like?”

“Very much, yes,” You responded, returning his smirk, “The most wonderful man I’ve ever seen is in front of me.”

The clone in front of you laughed softly, “And what makes me so wonderful, mesh’la?”

“Well, let's see…” You reached across the small table and booped his nose with your finger, “You’re handsome. Kind. Passionate. Oh, and very hardworking.” Your compliments were honest, but you added one more just to stroke his ego ever so slightly, “You're also the best person to cuddle with, even if you make me late to work sometimes in the morning.” 

Your dear lover laughed, bright and genuinely. After he managed to calm down, he stood and pulled you to your feet, “I love you.” He responded, “I love you so much.” his hands were on your waist, pulling you in for a heated kiss. 

“I love you too, Fives.” You kissed him before pulling back, “Let's head home?” Your fingers were interlocked with his again. Once he nodded, you both left the bakery and made your way to your apartment. 

Fives radiated relaxation now. He needed the escape. Just a couple hours to forget everything that's happened during the war. 

Once you made it to your apartment, the clone trooper went to the fresher for a shower while you checked your holo. There were several missed calls from multiple colleagues. 

“W-what?” Your blood ran cold. What happened? Was it an emergency? Did something occur at the medical facility?

You pressed the holo, calling the most recent missed call. A Pantoran nurse by the name of Rino had attempted to reach you 4 minutes ago. Once he answered you fired out questions, “I’m sorry I missed the calls. What's going on? Is something wrong?”

Rino looked disheveled, emotional and distraught, “Oh thank the stars you're ok. Something’s happened!” 

“Rino, what the fuck is going on!?” Your patience ran thin, you needed answers. 

“The meeting…with Nala Se and Dr.Mila’s group,” He answered, voice cracking, “Their ship…it was attacked after they left Kamino.”

Your eyes widened and you could feel your brain go into shock.

“No one survived the attack!”

[ohdorothea]

This tournament is being run by and for queer fans, homophobes will be blocked on sight <3 More info about the tournament here!

Lyrics for the songs under the cut <3

Write in the tags your interpretations or propaganda for a specific song! Tags will be used to decide what songs may be saved if there are extra slots in the next round!

All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault)"

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold

But something 'bout it felt like home somehow

And I left my scarf there at your sister's house

And you've still got it in your drawer, even now

Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze

We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

And I can picture it after all these days

And I know it's long gone and

That magic's not here no more

And I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all

Oh, oh, oh

'Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there

I remember it all too well

Photo album on the counter, your cheeks were turning red

You used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed

And your mother's telling stories 'bout you on the tee-ball team

You taught me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me

And you were tossing me the car keys, "fuck the patriarchy"

Key chain on the ground, we were always skipping town

And I was thinking on the drive down, any time now

He's gonna say it's love, you never called it what it was

'Til we were dead and gone and buried

Check the pulse and come back swearing it's the same

After three months in the grave

And then you wondered where it went to as I reached for you

But all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame

And I know it's long gone and

There was nothing else I could do

And I forget about you long enough

To forget why I needed to

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We're dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there

I remember it all too well

And there we are again when nobody had to know

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Sacred prayer and we'd swear

To remember it all too well, yeah

Well, maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

'Til you tore it all up

Running scared, I was there

I remember it all too well

And you call me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of being honest

I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here

'Cause I remember it all, all, all

They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell

Every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

Not weeping in a party bathroom

Some actress asking me what happened, you

That's what happened, you

You who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes

Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show

But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come

And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

Now you mail back my things and I walk home alone

But you keep my old scarf from that very first week

'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like me

You can't get rid of it

'Cause you remember it all too well, yeah

'Cause there we are again when I loved you so

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there

I remember it all too well

Wind in my hair, you were there

You remember it all

Down the stairs, you were there

You remember it all

It was rare, I was there

I remember it all too well

And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes

"I'll get older, but your lovers stay my age"

From when your Brooklyn broke my skin and bones

I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight

And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue?

Just between us, did the love affair maim you, too?

'Cause in this city's barren cold

I still remember the first fall of snow

And how it glistened as it fell

I remember it all too well

Just between us, did the love affair maim you all too well?

Just between us, do you remember it all too well?

Just between us, I remember it (Just between us), all too well

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, you remember it all too well

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, you remember it

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, you remember it

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, you remember it

Girl At Home (Taylor's Version)"

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that, ah-ah

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that

I don't even know her

But I feel a responsibility

To do what's upstanding and right

It's kinda like a code, yeah

And you've been getting closer and closer

And crossing so many lines

And it would be a fine proposition

If I was a stupid girl

But, honey, I am no one's exception

This, I have previously learned

So don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that, ah-ah

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that

I see you turn off your phone

And now you've got me alone, and I say

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that

I just wanna make sure

You understand perfectly

You're the kind of man who makes me sad

While she waits up

You chase down the newest thing

And take for granted what you have

And it would be a fine proposition

If I was a stupid girl

And, yeah, I might go with it

If I hadn't once been just like her

So don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that, ah-ah

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that

I see you turn off your phone

And now you've got me alone, and I say

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that

Oh-oh

Oh-oh

Call a cab, lose my number

You're about to lose your girl

Call a cab, lose my number

Let's consider this lesson learned

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that, ah-ah

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that

Wanna see you pick up your phone

And tell her you're coming home

Don't look at me, you got a girl at home

And everybody knows that, everybody knows that

It would be a fine proposition

If I hadn't once been just like her

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Oaths~ Part 3/3 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 23 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of past character death, general Ser Criston Cole hatred

Summary:

Would Lord Corlys turn his back on Rhaenyra, when in doing so meant he severed his relationship with his granddaughters? Moreover, would Princess Rhaenys continue to steadfastly stand by him if he did? The love the typically stoic Targaryen princess held for them was a secret to none.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this past few parts.🖤 I hope you enjoy this one. The next parts will probably be posted close together as well, but may be titled two separate chapters (as opposed to part 1/part 2, etc.). I'm tossing around the idea of "Second Sons" as one of the next chapter names if that's indicative of anything. I hope you all have a great rest of the weekend 🖤

"... It is said that they have been executed.

More hushed whispers ensued.

This was news to Harwin. It was most unfortunate that what Queen Rhaenyra alleged, while foul, was not entirely beyond belief. Particularly not when one considered the likes of Lord Otto Hightower and, Harwin could only assume, his snake of a brother Larys, could have been acting in the Usurper’s interest.

You kept your voice even, but Harwin still felt the shock of the news as it registered within your mind from his place several paces away. “Executed? …At whose command?”

“It is said Lord Otto Hightower has my half-brother’s ear. He has been named as the Usuper’s hand, after all.”

You said nothing, still reeling.

With undisguised disgust lacing her tone, Rhaenyra pressed on. “However, it is rumored that the dowager queen’s sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole, contributed more actively in carrying out Otto Hightower’s decrees.”

Just the mere mention of Ser Criston Cole’s name was enough to get Harwin’s blood burning. However, the implication that Ser Criston Cole was further besmirching the name of the White cloaks, and all knighthood alike, by playing the role of judge, jury, and executioner as he saw fit, and without any repercussions? That was downright infuriating.

A flash of a memory filled Harwin’s mind. The night of what was supposed to be the opening feast celebrating then Princess Rhaenyra’s nuptials to Ser Laenor Velaryon. The rage, pure unbridled anger as Ser Criston Cole pummeled one of the guests to death with his bare hands. How such a horrific act had gone not only unpunished, but rewarded by continued service under Queen Alicent’s protection was beyond Harwin’s ability to comprehend. Ser Criston Cole should have been stripped of his cloak right then and there- if not worse.

The words were out of Harwin’s mouth before he had a mind to stop them.

“It seems Ser Criston Cole’s bloodlust has not diminished, even after all these years.”

As he had not stepped forward, Rhaenyra had to physically turn her body to look at him. When she did, their eyes met with an understanding Harwin had seldom reached with any other. For their own multitude of reasons, the two of them shared a mutual hatred for Ser Criston Cole.

“It would seem so, Lord Strong.”

What Harwin would do to have one more shot at the poor excuse of a man. Perhaps, in time, such an opportunity would present itself... Perhaps Queen Rhaenyra would arrange such an opportunity for him. Needless to say, regardless of how fate provided him with it, Harwin would not squander it.

Rhaenyra opted to forgive his outburst and did not rebuke him for speaking out of turn. When she turned back to the Painted Table to address you and the rest of the group at large, she was reinvigorated with purpose. “Rest assured, Lady Y/N, when I reclaim King’s Landing and ascend the throne, I will have justice for Lord Beesbury, Lord Caswell, and all others who were wrongfully slain for upholding their oaths to me. Rest assured, Lord Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole will be dealt with.”

Harwin wondered whether Lord Otto Hightower would be given a trial. Despite his egregious treachery, the queen’s supporters would likely demand he be given one, if only to put him through public humiliation before his demise. And any supporters of the Usurper would cite the lack of a trial as an example of supposed tyranny on Rhaenyra’s part.

But Harwin did not think Prince Daemon would so willingly pass up the opportunity to feed Lord Otto to Caraxes…

To the room at large, Rhaenyra proclaimed, “As my first official act as queen, I have decided to declare Lord Otto Hightower and Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower as traitors to the realm. They, and all of their supporters, are a danger to the stability of the Seven Kingdoms, and their rebellious acts will be met with justice- the queen’s justice.”

“Hear, hear!” Lord Bartimos Celtigar bellowed, to the audible agreement of many around him.

“And as for the others we have mentioned here today- Ser Criston Cole, Lord Larys Strong, Lord Tyland Lannister, Lord Garrett Redwyne, and any other individual found to be acting in support of the Greens’ cause or otherwise aiding the false rule of my half-brother- it is my will that they be apprehended and made to stand trial, where the extent of their crimes will come to light. May the appointed jurors and the Seven have mercy on their souls.”

“A wise decision, Your Grace,” Lord Gunthor praised, stepping forward and up to the Painted Table once more.

“Agreed!” Lord Bartimos concurred. “An iron fist against against this Hightower treachery is certain to set the tone for your reign.”

Across the Painted Table from him, Lord Rydan stepped forward. “And what of the Usurper, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra’s response to the posed question was not immediate. As she visibly deliberated within her own mind, her entire council watched her expectantly. Finally, she said, “I will not have it be said that the Greens were more generous and willing to prevent needless bloodshed than I. If they wish to offer terms in the hope of a peaceful resolution to this mess, I shall meet them halfway. Maester Gerardys?”

The man in question broke through the remnants of the observing crowd, his chains rattling softly as he stepped forward once more. “Yes, My Queen?”

“Send a raven to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra commanded him, before pausing. After a moment, she added, “And send a second to Oldtown, addressed to my youngest half-brother. Inform them all that I have declared Lord Otto Hightower and the dowager queen as traitors to the realm. Make very clear my intentions to have everyone else who has aided in the unlawful usurpation of my throne arrested until they may stand trial. As for my half-brothers, Daeron, Aemond, and Aegon, as well as my sweet sister, Helaena… they have all been led astray by the council of evil men. Let my siblings come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask for my forgiveness. I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart. They are my own blood, and I will not be made to be a kinslayer.”

The implications of the queen’s orders took their time resonating within the minds of those in the room. And for several long moments, a silence fell upon the room.

Lord Rydan was the first to break it. He cleared his throat, and raised his eyebrow. Not without caution, he inquired, “Is that wise, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra turned to look at him with mild surprise. “Are you questioning me, Lord Bar Emmon?”

“I would not say so, Your Grace. ‘Tis just, while your inclination to be merciful is admirable, I worry about unforeseen consequences that may arise by leaving these challengers to your throne alive.”

“If my half-brothers renounce their claim to our father’s throne, they will no longer present a challenge.”

“Your Grace, we have already witnessed how little the Greens value their oaths,” Lord Bartimos interjected carefully. “Even if he agreed and bent the knee to you, could the Usurper truly be trusted to keep his vow? And what of the younger two? Rumors persist that Aegon fancies spending his time drinking and gambling, and that he much prefers the company of whores rather than courtiers. But Aemond is said to be studious, cunning even. Who is to say he would not bend the knee to appease you, if only to- perhaps quite literally- stab you in the back the moment you lowered your guard?”

“There is also Daeron to consider,” you chimed in softly, visibly more reluctant in voicing your concern that Lord Celtigar and Lord Rydan had been. “I do not think Daeron would oppose you of his own accord, Your Grace. By all means, he has seldom had a chance to come to know you, let alone grow to despise you. But he is surrounded in Oldtown by those who would whisper poisonous thoughts into his ear. And though he is young, and only a squire, I’ve heard it said that he is quite brave, and bold... Should anything befall Aegon and Aemond, the Greens would not have a difficult time shaping him into the kingly pawn they so clearly desire.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, placing her palms downward upon the Painted Table as she regarded her advisors through the hoods of her violet eyes. Her next words were spoken with severe conviction. “I will not have Aegon killed, nor any of my other half-brothers for that matter. I will commit no such act by my own hand, nor do I wish to command it of another’s. I will not be a kinslayer.”

“The Usurper is not to be touched,” Harwin insisted, stepping forward as well. “Nor Aemond, nor Daeron.”

He took several strides over, resuming the same place at the Painted Table where he had stood shortly before. You looked up at him as he came to a stop beside you. Beneath the large stone slab, his fingers brushed yours lightly.

“If blood is to be shed, let it be Aegon who bloodies his hands first,” Harwin urged, looking at the surrounding lords and ladies imploringly. “Let our queen’s hands remain clean of that filth. No matter what region or customs we each hail from, I imagine we can all agree that no man, or woman, is as accursed as the kinslayer.”

“If you do not mean to have the Usurper killed, and if he does not agree to bend the knee, where does that leave you, My Queen?” Lord Bartimos countered, now mildly vexed. “What is our next move to dispose of the Green boy and reclaim what is rightfully yours?”

The queen pulled herself up, straightening her back and leveling her shoulders. “That is the reason I have called you all here, My Lord Celtigar. Remaining idle in Dragonstone is no longer an option- time is of the essence. Any reinforcements the Greens plan to send for, or any they have already sent for, will advance close to King’s Landing with every sun set.”

“You need to act,” you insisted seriously, the words slipping from your mouth before you had a moment to question whether to silence them. Respectfully, you added, “And with haste, Your Grace.”

“I agree. But the problem in doing so remains thus- the extent of my allies are, as of yet, mostly unknown. It would be far easier to devise a strategy if all the pieces upon the board were apparent. The majority of those who have already declared their support for me are present in this very room, and yet, as Prince Daemon reminded us all the other day, the amount of swords at our immediate disposal would not be nearly enough to take the city… Still, I am not without hope that a possible solution to my problem merely has not yet come to light.”

“How can we best aid you, Your Grace?” you asked.

“I have called you all here as my counselors in my time of need,” Rhahenyra said simply, looking at the many faces about the room once more. “Council me.”

“I still maintain that a swift, precise show of force would bring this farce to an end.”

Lord Bartimos’ impassioned argument re-commenced for what you thought might have been the fifth time. In all honesty, you had lost count after he had repeated his proposed strategy thrice times over.

Rhaenyra remained at the head of the Painted Table, though instead of standing, she now sat in a chair that had been placed there for her. She fiddled with the armrest absentmindedly as her counsel argued amongst themselves around her. You had also lost recollection of how much time had passed before she had given up on having an active voice in the discussion, when she eventually succumbed to the seemingly undeterred will of the loudest participants in the room.

Still, if she so desired, Rhaenyra could silence them all, and cease what she may have hoped would be fruitful dialogue, but what had ultimately become an unproductive squabble. But Rhaenyra’s mind was elsewhere. Where her thoughts might have laid, you dared not to speculate. Few other of her councilors seemed to even notice her straying attention, save you and Harwin.

Many of the other lords and ladies, though almost all had taken a turn to provide their input at some point or another over the last hour, had resigned themselves to the outskirts of the room once more. Many indulged in wine or engaged in frustrated whisperings with one other as disagreement after disagreement had shifted the tone in the room from one of promise to one of dull despair.

But as for Lord Bartimos Celtigar and Lord Simon Staunton, they had remained standing at the Painted Table. Each insisted the superiority of their own plans of attack loudly before the others in the room, despite the fact that most everyone else was no longer paying them much mind either.

You and Harwin had also remained at the table. Though your intent of support had been declared, neither of you had the resources with which to offer immediate help to remedy the queen’s unfortunate circumstance. Because of this, the pair of you had opted to remain relatively quiet thus far.

But as Lord Bartimos droned on once more, you realized your patience had grown incredibly thin. And as Lord Simon eagerly pointed out a flaw in his proposed plan- again- you finally came to the conclusion that the very least that you and Harwin could do was to try and regain some control of the room while the queen mentally worked to regather her bearings.

“You must use what the gods have gifted your house, Your Grace,” Lord Simon was saying, though Rhaenyra had not looked in his direction for several minutes. “Dragons.”

Lord Bartimos nodded enthusiastically, suddenly amenable to Lord Simon’s proposal. “Use them, Your Grace, and the Usurper will have no choice but to oppose us with his own dragons. Our nine must surely overwhelm his four.”

“And as the dragons clash in the skies above, how many innocent lives shall perish in the flames below?” you demanded, glaring at the two men across from you.

Lord Bartimos and Lord Simon turned to you readily, eager to have yet another challenger present themselves to the forefront of their debate.

Lord Bartimos gave you a small, wry smile, and chuckled dryly. He took the break from his self-imposed ramblings as an opportunity to finish off his goblet. A serving boy stepped forward to refill it with wine.

Lord Simon was not so subtle in his own response. “I would not expect you to know of such matters, Lady Tyrell, given that you are both far younger than I, and of the fairer sex. But this, in all but name, is a matter of war. And in war, people die.”

“The purpose of war is to fill graveyards,” Lord Bartimos added, his freshly refilled goblet of wine swishing around precariously in his wrinkled hand. “And the trick is to put more of their men in the ground than your own.”

With a commanding edge to his voice that he had seldom had use for these days, Harwin argued, “If you rush King’s Landing with dragons now, the majority of casualties will be the citizens of King’s Landing themselves, not Green soldiers, or even our own.”

Your husband’s authoritative tone was rather effective on Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos, who had suddenly lost their smug expressions and had yet to find another. They blinked blankly a few times as Harwin continued.

“We want to rule the city, not burn it to the ground. All of this talk of brute shows of strength is futile; our queen will have ample time for feats such as those later on in her reign. Perhaps the solution to our immediate problem lies in a far more… subtle approach.”

The attention of Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos had already turned to Harwin, but at your husband’s rather curious wording, your interest was piqued as well.

Half-cautiously, half-disbelievingly, Lord Simon requested, “What exactly are you suggesting, Lord Strong?”

Harwin’s eyes fell upon the Painted Table, his hazel hues fixating on King’s Landing. “I am very familiar with the halls of the Red Keep. I know of its integral strengths, and I could speak to more than a few of its weaknesses as well.” He looked up, meeting the hard, questioning glares of Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos in turn. “But I am even more familiar with the inner workings of the city. I have spent many hours and countless nights patrolling its many streets and alleyways. I believe that all we would truly need is one night, and a few good men. We could take the city from the Greens by surprise, not force.”

Lord Bartimos raised an eyebrow. “My Lord, do you know of the queen’s shield, Ser Criston Cole?” It was not a question; the entire room had heard Harwin’s snide remark not but an hour before. “They say has been made Lord Commander of the King’s Guard.”

This was news to you, and as such, you knew it had to have been news to Harwin as well. But Harwin was unphased, and his deadpan reply to Lord Bartimos was delivered with such flippancy, you had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to break your reserved composure.

“All the better, then. Ser Criston’s exorbitant hubris will have undoubtedly created ample opportunities for us to spot the weaknesses in the White Cloaks’ patrols and allow us to capitalize upon them.”

Behind you, Selwin was not so successful in halting a short laugh that slipped out from his lips.

“I believe Lord Harwin’s idea has merit,” Prince Jacaerys announced, joining the conversation.

Like his mother, he too had opted to say little. Unlike his mother, Jacaerys seemed intently focused on the many conversations happening around him, as though he sought to digest all of the information being presented.

“Thank you, My Prince,” Harwin nodded to him graciously.

Jacaerys returned the gesture stiffly before turning back to Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos. “We ought to explore Lord Harwin’s idea further, see if we might be able to devise some sort of plan. If spilling blood can be avoided, especially if it is to be the blood of our subjects, then that is a route that must be pursued at all costs.”

Lord Bartimos looked absolutely tickled at the young prince’s suggestion. “Might I remind you of how your ancestors claimed the Seven Kingdoms, My Prince?”

On the other side of Harwin, Ser Erryk Cargyll suddenly stood to attention, his focus captured by something across the room.

“The Lord of the Tides, Lord Coryls Velaryron, and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

The announcement, quickly followed by the tapping of a cane upon the stone floor, caused the heads of everyone in the room to snap over towards the entryway, including your own.

There, accompanied by Princess Rhaenys at his side, and trailed by his granddaughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, the infamous Sea Snake himself descended down the stairs to fully enter the chamber. He walked step by step with his wife, publicly and proudly displaying to all who were not keen enough to already know that the pair viewed one another as nothing less than equals. The two emitted a sense of authority that no man or woman in their right minds would dare challenge. And when they moved, the rest of the room gave them the respect they had silently commanded, with various nobles bowing their heads as they passed.

Lord Coryls used the support of a cane, and his neck was wrapped in bandages. The true extent of his injuries were never made known to you, but the physical remains of the treatments that had been deemed necessary all but confirmed in your mind that they could have been as fatal as the rumors had suggested. The fact that Lord Coryls was upright, walking, and seemingly of his right mind thus far was incredibly fortunate.

You had not seen Princess Rhaenys since Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s petition in King’s Landing, and that had been some weeks ago. Though she looked much the same, she also looked refreshed, reinvigorated, and positively pleased to be back at her partner’s side.

Lord Coryls had been fighting in the Stepstones for the better part of the last decade. If you were forced to gamble, you would wager that Princess Rhaenys had not seen her husband in all that while. The thought of being separated from Harwin for such a span of time was not a welcome one in the slightest, and it only served to increase the amount of respect you held for Targaryen princess, for the Queen Who Never Was.

“My Lords, and Ladies,” Lord Coryls greeted the room, sounding mildly winded. No one would dare comment upon it.

“Lord Coryls!” Rhaenyra had risen from her seat, watching the every movement her father and mother by law made with earnestness. “It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

The Sea Snake looked genuinely touched from her words. “I am very sorry about your father, Princess. He was a good man.”

As their elders exchanged greetings, Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena slipped away, weaving through the various lords and ladies in the room to take their chosen places besides their betrothed. You noted, not without amusement, that the faces of the eldest Velaryon princes were visibly enlightened by the ladies’ mere presence.

Lord Coryls looked about the room, as though making a mental record of every face present. “Where is Daemon?”

“There are other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention,” Rhaenyra replied simply.

Though Lord Coryls looked as though he wished to say more, he let the matter go. Cane in hand, he continued to meander over to the Painted Table, and the lords and ladies who were in his way silently parted to free his path. He looked down at the stone depiction of the Seven Kingdoms appraisingly.

“Your declared allies?” he surmised.

“Yes,” the queen confirmed, crossing a few paces to resume her rightful position at the head of the Table.

Lord Coryls hummed. “Too few to win a war for the throne.”

The reminder, though blatantly apparent to all who had been present in the room for any period of time that morning, was no less disheartening to hear when spoken aloud. But you could tell the gears in Rhaenyra’s mind had once more begun to turn.

“Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses of Arryn, Baratheron, and Stark-”

“Hope is the fool’s ally.”

“Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house, but all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower, if I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys.”

The Sea Snake was a fierce man, one who had never shied away from speaking his mind, or from demanding answers for difficult questions. He had the respect of many throughout the Seven Kingdoms because he had earned it. But Rhaenyra Targaryen was not merely some spoiled princess making frivolous demands, either. You had to admit, it was rather interesting to bear witness to their exchange of dialogue as they attempted to assess one another.

Lord Corlys did not seem interested in granting Rhaenyra’s insinuation a response. Instead, his critical gaze turned upon you and Harwin. “Lord Strong, Lady Tyrell.”

“Lord Velaryon,” you acknowledged, as Harwin bowed his head in greeting beside you.

“The pair of you are a far way from home, are you not?”

“It is most fortunate,” Rhaenyra interceded, “that Lord Harwin and Lady Y/N were already in the midst of traveling to Dragonstone for a much overdue visit. Houses Tyrell and Strong have both reaffirmed their allegiance, Lord Coryls.”

Lord Coryls’s eyebrows raised. “Those would be some significant numbers of men added to your cause, Princess… ‘Tis unfortunate that any mustering of significant force from Highgarden or Harrenhal is likely to take more time than can be afforded.”

“Rest assured, Lord Coryls, if summoned, our men will ride with purpose to aid our queen,” Harwin countered.

This seemed to amuse the Sea Snake. His gaze lowered, his focus settling across the Painted Table. He started with King’s Landing, then moved upwards towards Driftmark, Dragonstone, the Eyrie, and all the way up to the Wall in the North. His attention left the Painted Table then, moving towards his granddaughters, who stood beside their betrothed at the far end of the table.

He, perhaps more than anyone else, save his lady wife, had to see in them what was plainly apparent to almost all others. Baela and Rhaena were each the image of their mother, and by extension, House Velaryron, in their own ways. Though there was little doubt that Baela and Rhaena offered their grandsire the respect that many others did, you could tell by the resolved looks on their faces that little would sway them to abandon their betrotheds’ sides- physically or figuratively.

Would Lord Corlys turn his back on Rhaenyra, when in doing so meant he severed his relationship with his granddaughters? Moreover, would Princess Rhaenys continue to steadfastly stand by him if he did? The love the typically stoic Targaryen princess held for them was a secret to none.

…

Just as Lord Corlys’s silence had begun to cause you apprehension, the Sea Snake looked back towards Rhaenyra once again.

“Your father’s realm was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood, and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand. You have the full support of our fleet, and house… Your Grace.”

As Lord Coryls bowed his head in respect to his queen, you felt the shock of his words settle into your mind and amongst others in the room.

Pun aside, the Sea Snake’s declaration was truly a change in the tides. With the larger numbers of the combined Lannister and Redwyne fleet already at Aegon’s disposal, the support of the seasoned and battle-tested Velaryon fleet was absolutely essential to Rhaenyra’s cause. And now, it was officially hers.

Though she masked it well, the queen was still wide eyed. “You honor me, Lord Corlys.” Her eyes softened as a thought struck her. She turned behind her, addressing one of the few other Targaryens in the room. “Princess Rhaenys.”

You dared to wonder if the support of the Queen Who Never Was meant more to Rhaenyra than the indomitable naval support she had just been handed. Ever graceful, Princess Rhaenys’s small smile was as unwavering as her strength.

The queen offered a gentle smile of her own, but when she turned back to the Painted Table, it faded just as quickly as it had come. “But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

You silently offered up words of praise to the Seven that Rhaenyra had not taken any of Lord Bartimos or Lord Simon’s deadly suggestions to heart- at least not for now.

Lord Coryls looked befuddled by her assertion. “You do not mean to act?”

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast,” Rhaenyra corrected him. “I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.”

Though the lords and ladies within the room had disagreed with one another on many issues that morning, all were hard-pressed to protest the queen’s reasoning.

Even Lord Corlys accepted her answer without further inquiry, nodding to himself. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he said, “A consequence of my near demise in the Stepstones is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborn travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

You felt goosebumps run the lengths of your arms, sheerly covered with the fabric of your gown. If what the Sea Snake said was true, the Redwyne and Lannister fleets were as of much use to Aegon as the men in and around Highgarden who waited to be roused by you were to Rhaenyra. They could not tilt the scales in the Usurper's favor if they were unable to sail to King’s Landing.

Princess Rhaenys stepped forward. To the queen, she volunteered, “I shall take Meleys and patrol the gullet myself.”

Though Lord Bartimos Celtigar had been a proponent of charging the Red Keep with dragons not but a moment before, the latest developments had caused a major change of mind within him. “When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Green surrender.”

Could it be that simple? You narrowed your eyes at King’s Landing in thought. The plan- if successful- had the potential to minimize the overall loss of life, for the citizens of King’s Landing, the soldiers sworn to those in the room, and the very beasts the Targaryens had built their dynasty with.

Though the queen looked somewhat hopeful, she also seemed to restrain herself. “If we are able to completely seal off Green reinforcements from reaching King’s Landing, by land or sea, and if we can strategically make use of our men and dragons at hand, perhaps it could work… But a siege can go on for weeks, months even.”

“The Red Keep would be more than prepared for a siege.”

“It certainly is,” Lord Corlys acquiesced. “But if it is made known to those within that aid will never reach them-”

“Days could feel like weeks, the weeks months,” you realized out loud. “The Greens would grow desperate.”

“Even if the Velaryon fleet could restrict movement of the Redwyne and Lannister fleets in the Narrow Sea, King’s Landing is still accessible by land on all other sides,” Rhaenyra noted, before looking at you expectantly.

“I shall write to my uncle at once, and give the order to start mustering our men,” you avowed. “If we act quickly, and with the right intelligence, the Tyrell army could cut off any Hightower forces marching from Oldtown and up through the Reach.”

Rhaenyra nodded understandingly, the traces of a small, grateful smile lingering on her face. She cleared her throat, looking to others in the room as she did so. “Even if we could deter the main Hightower forces, there is still the possibility that others within the Seven Kingdoms will join the Greens’ cause.”

“Not all of them would be as far away from King’s Landing as Oldtown,” Lord Corlys agreed. “And if they were not, they would pose a more immediate threat to our siege than a Hightower army ever could.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, but out of determination rather than anger. “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, and to truly eliminate any chance of the Usurper and the Greens receiving aid, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eerie, and Storm’s End.”Maester Gerardys offered, “I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”

“We should bear those messages.”

All eyes turned to the eldest Velaryon prince, and now heir to the Iron Throne, who had spoken for the first time in a long while.

Prince Jacaerys, palms facing downward on the Painted Table, did not buckle under the sudden attention his proposal had drawn. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens, and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Lord Coryls did not take care to hire his proud smile as he beheld his grandson. To Rhaenyra, he said, “The prince is right, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at Jacaerys for a moment, then to Lucerys, who stood silently beside his brother. The second Velaryon prince did not look as confident as Jacaerys, but that did not take away from the determination you saw in his brown eyes. You did not doubt for a second that if his mother asked it of him, Lucerys would readily join his elder brother to act as her envoy in an effort to reclaim her throne.

“Very well,” Rhaenyra conceded. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north, first to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell, to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly fourth to Storm’s End, and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon.”

For the first time in hours- or perhaps days- an undeniable sense of hope had fallen over Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra declared, “We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore… And, the cost of breaking them.”

You watched with something akin to glee and fondness as the room erupted into enthusiastic conversation. You had known the truth of it since you were but a girl, when your father traveled to King’s Landing and made the oath before King Viserys himself. But now, witnessing the moments leading up to the truth being made real, and for all in the realm to behold with their own eyes- it was another matter entirely.

The Seven Kingdoms was to finally have its queen.

A/N: 🖤🖤🖤

[delimeful]

carry them home (5)

warnings: magical oaths, mentions of past harm/captivity, miscommunication/lack of communication, PTSD, food scarcity, cliffhanger

-

From a very young age, Janus’s life had been nomadic in nature. He had traversed all kinds of terrain, with all kinds of people, in all kinds of conditions. Whether fleeing or pursuing, when it came to travel, he was confident in his experience.

The gaggle of children he was currently stuck with were decidedly not expert travelers.

They clearly all had some level of skill in surviving on their own; being what they were, they wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing that much.

Most changelings did. Naivety didn’t tend to linger long in those that were hunted simply for existing, especially as beings that didn’t truly belong to one realm or the other.

The wisdom required to hide from an Iron Guard member and the knowledge required to set up a functioning campsite were two very different skills, however, and Janus’s current accommodations proved as much.

The sun was setting, and the children had essentially come to a stop where they were and planted themselves in various nooks and crannies, getting comfortable in the cold, damp woods the way only fae could.

Janus, as one of those pitiful creatures that was more vulnerable to the elements, was left decidedly less comfortable.

To the surprise of precisely no one, he hadn’t managed to convince Vee to allow him to unbind his hands, or even have his bound hands held in front of him, rather than behind.

In fact, he was fairly certain he’d ended their first day’s trek with double the restrictions he’d started with.

“Be quiet, you’re too loud. Are you trying to wake the whole forest?”

“Stop lurking. Stay ahead of me— not that ahead!”

“Don’t talk to him. Actually? Don’t even look at him.”

The most galling part was that most of the orders weren’t even fueled by malice. They seemed more compulsive than anything else, following a strange sort of logic: everything he did was suspect in Vee’s eyes, and so everything he did had to be restricted.

Such measures might have seemed reasonable to the twitchiest changeling he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting, but they were horrible for Janus’s burgeoning headache. The more rules he had to keep track of, the more likely it was that he would accidentally slip and earn himself a jolt of nerve-burning pain.

Particularly after Vee had snapped, red-faced, for Janus to stop making faces whenever the group’s progress was stalled by yet another bout of bickering.

Talk about cruel and inhumane. His mocking expressions were a key part of his personality, thank you very much.

All in all, it was a welcome change when Logan approached to take his own turn guarding the hostage. Janus had to work to not shift too visibly when the change in watchers took effect, the low buzz of pain from so many overlapping orders sloughing off his shoulders like shedding a heavy cloak.

It wasn’t anywhere near debilitating, but he hadn’t missed the sensation, and was glad to avoid it as much as possible.

Vee had slouched off resentfully, but Logan was still standing there, surveying him with a curious frown. His wings were folded neatly against his back even though there was nobody present to keep the secret of them from.

“How may I be of service,” Janus asked, wrangling his tone into something only slightly sardonic through pure force of will.

A small, familiar voice in the back of his mind suggested that maybe he could just ask them not to use so many overlapping commands at once. He ignored it as thoroughly as he did all ideas that might involve unnecessary vulnerability, and resisted the urge to smile sarcastically only because he didn’t want his ability to emote revoked again so soon.

“How did you break my charmspeak?” Logan asked, voice kept low enough not to disturb the others.

(Not that it seemed necessary. The only one within hearing distance was Patton, who was already sound asleep, going by the gurgly snoring. Vee had sulked off to the nearby shadows, and the two nature sprites had, oddly enough, vanished the moment they’d decided to stop for the night.)

Janus raised an eyebrow, thankfully painlessly. “Subverting magical compulsion is something I’ve trained extensively in.”

Of course, that ‘training’ wasn’t generally willing, but that was beside the point.

“Why?” Logan asked, not even seeming to realize that he was leaning in slightly.

“I like to be prepared,” Janus lied, because none of them had thought to order that he be truthful. It was a common flaw with fae and fae-adjacent– bald-faced lying was an abstract idea to them, rather than an automatic instinct the way it was for Janus.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy the siren, going by his frustrated scowl and the ruffled feathers Janus could spy along the curve of his wings. They seemed oddly ragged, for someone as precise as Logan.

“It wasn’t your magic at fault,” Janus added, throwing the kid a bone. “All magic has loopholes. You must know that much, or you wouldn’t have taken the precaution of binding my hands.”

He wriggled his fingers in example, a mostly pointless gesture since his hands were hidden, wedged between the tree he leaned against and the rest of his body. “Speaking of, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me a little more freedom of motion? I have sworn my harmlessness under blood oath.”

Logan straightened up slightly, expression flattening back out. “It would be inadvisable to leave you unbound to exploit any more loopholes,” he replied tartly.

“If you keep turning my helpful advice against me, I’m going to stop giving it,” Janus told him, and then rode out a wave of sharp oath-induced discomfort before sourly adding, “That was a joke. Far be it from me to stop giving you advice. Loopholes are one thing, but an oathbreaker, I am not.”

“We’ll see.” Logan had returned to the curious frown; Janus must have reacted a bit more to the oath’s sting than he’d thought. What a shame, for the infamous Silvertongue’s poker face to falter from something as banal as disuse.

The words slipped out, sharper than he’d meant them to: “I’m sure we will. Now, are you finished, or is sleeping another basic privilege that you plan to strip from me?”

A flicker of panic shuddered through him, an automatic reflex from years of paying the price for sass. It was never a good idea to insult their pride and give them ideas in the same breath, especially not while under oath.

Logan, however, only stepped back slightly, feathery ear tufts flicking as he cleared his throat. “Right, of course. We can speak more while traveling.”

“Of course.” Janus managed a stiff nod, still half-braced for retaliation as he tried to drag his mind back into the present. There was no reason for them to lash out in such a way, particularly since depriving Janus of sleep would only lessen his use to them.

(There had been no real reason for them to do it back then, either. Amusement and ego were reason enough, for some.)

It took him far too long to recover, even after Logan had awkwardly retreated to a nearby perch and turned his attention to keeping watch. He felt a burst of frustration as he leaned his head back against the tree trunk and forced his eyes shut.

He’d truly grown too soft, if hardships as simple as these had him in such disarray.

–

The next few days passed in a similar manner, his metaphorical leash swapped between Vee and Logan with just enough irregularity to keep him tense, though he doubted it was on purpose.

He liked to believe he knew the difference between psychological tactics designed to unsettle and the improvised planning skills of a tween, anyways. Even if his shoulders had firmly transitioned from aching to numb by this point.

It wasn’t like they had much of a reference for human durability, even as changelings. There was a big difference between living with humans and living as a human, after all. Janus was mostly just impressed they’d remembered to feed him.

Vee, of all people, had been invaluable in that regard. Patton seemed confused about the logistics of raw versus cooked meat, Ro barely understood what it meant for something to be ‘inedible’, and Remus was actively and blatantly trying to poison him. Eating seemed to be an afterthought to Logan, to the point that Vee was likely the only reason he hadn’t wasted away.

That wasn’t to say meals were pleasant. Vee provided him with the bare minimum as though daring him to say something about it, a challenge that Janus wisely refrained from rising to. The lack of complaint only seemed to make the kid angrier, though, so there was no winning.

He wasn’t allowed to forage for ingredients, despite the fact that his oath wouldn’t have let him attempt to poison them if he’d wanted to, so it was only natural that the issue of rations would come up sooner rather than later.

“There should be a town nearby. I have enough coin to buy provisions, and could likely barter for anything else we might need,” he mentioned, already anticipating the wall of suspicion his words would be met with.

“As if you could be trusted to wander around a human town,” Vee snapped. “Do you think we’re stupid?”

“Of course not.” Janus barely held back an eyeroll. “I’m simply beginning to wonder if you actually understand how a blood oath works.”

“You–!”

“It’s an unnecessary risk,” Logan cut in, effectively ending the discussion. “We’re getting by fine as it is.”

Humans needed to eat more regularly than most fae, which meant that Janus didn’t particularly agree with that assessment of the situation, but he wasn’t about to say as much. The only one who seemed to know anything specific about human needs was Vee, who had already made it quite clear that he didn’t care to fulfill Janus’s.

Janus set his jaw, and didn't contradict him.

So be it. It was only for a little while. He’d endured much worse for much longer.

Things proceeded like that for another few days, with Logan plotting out a new and improved course towards the mountains and Vee herding the other changelings away from Janus like an agitated sheepdog at every opportunity.

They might have continued like that for weeks, held fast to an uneasy, meaningless truce all the way until the end of the oath period, if Logan hadn’t fallen ill.

[julessworldd]

Red revenge Robb Stark fic

A/N: Basically i saw this Robb edit on tik tok and thought of about it for a fic. Basically the red wedding happens but everyone doesn’t realize Robb made it alive. So my fic is about that but also @valeskafics thoughts.. Bel said what if his wife was kidnapped by the the Lannisters and was forced to marry Joffrey. I made Y/n a Tyrell, Margery’s twin and youngest child of Mace Tyrell.

Warning: violence(Its a got fic so obviously there’s some blood shed lol), angst, marriage, child, pregnancy mention. Smut implied at the end. Bedding ceremony is mentioned(idk if that’s a trigger ) Jaime don’t gets his character arc yet, very much s1 Jaime, but set in s3. Love Jaime but it’s for plot, sorry Jeyne I stole your man for a plot 😘 okay enjoy babes 💚

Y/n Tyrell, twin of Margarey Tyrell, the prettiest rose. Margarey was beautiful with her bright blue eyes, perfect skin, red hair for days. The biggest smile that would make the strongest knight break down. Then there was Y/n, she was beautiful like her twin but she didn’t feel like that. Everyone forgot about her or at least she thought. Hiding in Marg’s shadow since day 1 she’s got used to be Margarey’s twin and the youngest Tyrell.

Mace Tyrell was in the north when the war broke out as Robb Stark brought his banner men down south. Y/n and Mace got separated but Robb found her. He swore he would get Y/n back to Highgarden to safety.

As the months passed, the two fell in love and Robb found a septon that ironically married his Aunt Lynna to Prince Rhaegar. They were married in secret much to Lady Cat’s disappointment. It was stupid to marry for love in this world but they didn’t care. Robb loved Y/n and wanted to protect her forever. Y/n loved Robb more than what she thought she could love anyone. More than her twin in Highgarden. Soon the Starks and their men went to a Frey wedding as Robb’s uncle is supposed to marry Freys daughter.

The wedding had ended as the couple were giggling and feeding each other as others danced. Robb and Y/n were watching the new couple as they talked.

“If you actually kept your oath, you would be eating out of her hand” Y/n smirked

“Perhaps I made a terrible mistake” Robb deadpanned.

Y/n gasped as she attempted to hit Robb’s shoulder but he grabbed her wrist gently pulling her close to him, “Hitting your king is an act of treason”

Y/n’s face soften as she giggled, “I’m sorry my love” Robb let her wrist go as he kissed her hand, “Good don’t do it again”

Walder commanded the bedding ceremony was to begin.. lords grabbed Rosylin and lady’s giggled as they attempted to take off Eddume’s jacket. Y/n watched as the group left, “I’m sure the gods would live if we didn’t have that”

“It’s tradition, Y/n/n” Robb replied

“Doesn’t make it right” Y/n said as the door shut and a Lannister battle song started. Y/n and Catelyn made eye contact as a Frey guard flipped tables and shot some Stark bannermen. It finally hit Robb what happened, he attempted to grab Y/n but a Frey man grabbed her and dragged her towards to door as she screamed and kicked.

Y/n was held by her arms as she watched Robb got shot by two arrows knocking him down. Walder said something but Y/n was in shock as she watched her love get shot and her mother in law screamed at him to get up.

“Get up Robb! Get up and walk out, take me as your hostage. He’s my son! My first boy!” Catelyn screamed.

Walder sat there as a Frey guard stabbed Robb in his ribs, “The Lannisters send their regards” Robb looked at Y/n as he fell to the ground. Blood poured out as she screamed. Catelyn screamed and cut Walder’s daughter’s throat. Someone knocked Y/n out and dragged her to Jaime Lannister’s horse waiting outside. Hours later Y/n woke up tried to scream but was gagged and had her hands and legs tied.

“Oh the wolf’s bitch is awake” Jaime chuckled.

Soon enough Y/n was in the Red Keep as Jaime had her over his shoulder as he carried to his father’s chambers

“Father, here’s your grandson’s bride” Jaime sat her on her feet.

“What?!” Y/n said but, Jaime still had her gagged.

Y/n was set to marry King Joffrey, her grandmother made an alliance with House Lannister. She never hated anyone until now. She hated her grandmother, her father, anyone else that influenced this marriage. She hated Walder Frey and his men. She watched her love die in front of her and her mother in law had to be dead as well.

Margarey walked in Y/n’s chambers with a big smile, “Sister, I’m so glad to see you”

“I can’t marry Joffrey, he’s a monster! He had Robb killed in front of me! You’re just like everyone else, can’t believe father is allowing this” Y/n yelled

“Y/n, Robb broke his oath. It’s horrible yes but we can’t forget that” Margarey said

“Shut up! We were married and loved each other, he was my world! And you let him get killed! He was good damn it!” Y/n yelled as her older brother walked in

“What’s all the yelling about?” Loras asked

“Why do you care? Mhm! Robb was the love of my life and he was murdered! I hate this fucking family and fuck the king!” Y/n spat, throwing a vase. Y/n was known for her quick temper and thin patience. She had enough of everything and everyone. She wanted Robb but he was dead.

A few weeks later Ceseri dragged Y/n into a council meeting.. The king, the hand Tywin Lannister, Lord Varys, Lord Balish sat and Lord Tyrion was there.

Cersei pushed Y/n down on the ground, Tyrion jumped down for his seat and held a hand out to Y/n, “Lady Y/n” Y/n looked at Tyrion and took his hand, “Thank you, my lord”

“Maester Pyell, give my uncle the letter” Joffery said

Tyrion got the letter and read it out loud “What’s this? Bad poetry?”

Joffery chuckled dark, “Robb Stark is dead and his bitch mother!”

The door opened as Robb walked in with his sword out, he seen Y/n and grabbed her into his side, “Oh is he?” Robb said in a deep voice.

Everyone was silent, jaws opened in shock and fear, Cersei stood in front of Joffery like a mother lion to her cub. Tywin grabbed his sword and walked towards Robb.

“Theon, get Y/n out” Robb gently pushed Y/n backwards as he stood his ground.

Theon threw Y/n over his shoulder, “Come on” Y/n kicked and punched him as he carried her out.. “No! I won’t let him die again!”

“Jorey, take Queen Y/n to the gates. I’ll get Lady Sansa before Robb is done” Theon said as Jorey grabbed Y/n in his arms.

Robb came out of the Keep with something in his grasp, he had a smirk on his face. A dark one at that. He got closer and threw the heads at his men. Y/n and Sansa looked, it was King Jofferys, Tywin, Ceresi’s.

Y/n jumped in his arms, “How are you alive? I watched you die” Y/n cried on his shoulder.

“Shhh! It’s okay I’ll explain later. Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” Robb hugged me tight

“No I’m not hurt. What about my family?” Y/n asked.

“They’re packing for Highgarden. You can go with them if you want. It’s home for you” Robb snuzzled in her hair

“No, I want you. I’m not losing you again i swear it, my love” Y/n said

“Let’s go home then my Queen” Robb sat her down as he went to hug Sansa.

A few years later, Robb made it back to Winterfell and was still King in the north. The north was an independent kingdom, Robb wasn’t going to bend the knee to anyone as long as he was breathing. Y/n got pregnant not too long after arriving in Winterfell. Wasn’t a shock as the pair were locked in their chambers for a week with each other. 9 moons later, Y/n gave birth to a curly haired auburn boy. Cregan II Stark, a remake of his father but his mothers smile. The perfect heir, perfect little son, a product of a loving marriage. Y/n was actually pregnant again, she wants it to be a girl this time, her mini me. They were happy as a family and that’s all that mattered to them.

[whyshouldihaveanam3]

Taylor Swift x ACOTAR

Feyre Acheron and Tamlin's relationship in ACOTAR is the embodiment of All Too Well 10 Minute Version. Fight me if you want but it all adds up.

'Your sweet disposition' = Tamlin, no he wasn't exactly sweet, but Feyre had a 'Wide eyed gaze' when she first stepped into the Spring Court. Terrified, but intrigued.

'And I no it's long gone, and that magics not here no more' = obviously when she comes back from UTM. She misses that relationship her and Tamlin had, but it hurts to keep trying. The glee and magic she found in it as a human is gone as she becomes fae. Though the world is meant to seem brighter all she sees is darkness, misery.

'You taught me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me' = Pretty obvious I suppose. Tamlin wanted Feyre in his future so told her about his experiences with his Father and brothers. How he was never even meant to be High Lord.

'You were tossing me the car keys, fuck the patriarchy, key chain on the ground' = This one is a stretch, but think of it metaphorically. He tells Feyre about a bunch of stuff he wants to change. How she can be his, but he doesn't give her the freedom she deserves. He throws it at her feet, just out of reach.

'After three months in the grave' = Three months UTM ruined their relationship.

'And you wondered where I went to as I reach for you, but all I felt was shame. And you held my lifeless frame' = When Feyre begs Tamlin to let her out, try and break down the barriers. She doesn't want to be trapped, she wants to be let out. But Tamlin won't let her, he locks her away out of reach. She's a lifeless frame and he only realises after his own rage, when he holds her.

'There was nothing else I could do' = She knows she can't do anything. Dammit, she wants too, but she can'.

'You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath' = Tamlin initially kept her secret, from the Attor from Amourantha. Feyre kept their relationship more hidden, even from Lucien for a while. She kept so much a secret even when Rhysand took her for the first time, even when she began to feel safe. She tried, did Tamlin try as much?

'But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up' = Self explanatory. Tamlin shredded their relationship. Is he the only reason they didn't last? No. I wouldn't say so, but he was more outwardly destructive (ruining the study, damaging walls etc) than Feyre ever was.

'I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here' = Feyre is fucking broken. After everything UTM she is a shell of a person, less than that, and Tamlin's rage only makes her feel worse.

'The idea you had of me, who was she? Some never needy ever lovely jewel, who's shine reflects on you' = Tamlin can't see Feyre for who she is after her trauma ATM. She's broken, he's broken, he refuses (or is too upset) too see how badly it's really turned out. He still sees her as a weak human, the girl he stole from the woods that year. He still sees her as the weak that makes him stronger. He doesn't want to see her as she is now, out of ignorance perhaps, but also to try and deny everything that's happened.

'Not weeping in a party bathroom, some actress asking me what happened' = Lucien is the actress here, he's asking her what happened. He's being sympathetic, having the empathy his friend doesn't. He can see how destroyed Feyre is. He saw it UTM as well. Saw every second of change within her.

'Time won't fly it's like I'm paralysed by it' = She's so deep into her own depression, she can barely even register how time is passing, how every day she's trapped in the same routine. How Tamlin isn't there to help her, to hold her, to move her.

'I'd like to be my old self again, but I'm still trying to find it' = The wish I think they both have for things to return to normal the moment after everything happened UTM. Tamlin, on the surface, easily falls back into routine but Feyre can't.

'Back before you'd lost the one real thing you'd ever known' = Tamlin's only, as far as we know of, true feelings of love start with Feyre. He lost her because of his own mistakes, they both changed but not both of them grew or accepted that.

'Cause in the city's barren cold, I still remember the first fall of snow. And how it glistened as it fell.' = Feyre remembers the golden days, the days where she started seeing everything with the colour and the happiness. When she was still human but when the Spring Court was less terrifying, more like a home.

ANYWAY, essay complete. This ramble turned into a fucking English essay lmao. Sorry. Oh yeah, no Tamlin hate please. Pretty please. I feel kind of bad for him. I just ATWTMV'd him, no one deserves that, not really.

[bejeweledblondie]

Hello! God, I recently found your blog and I love it!!! I'm also a big Taylor fan and I've had this idea in mind! You are free to do it [or not do it] and modify it!

Based on *All too Well*

I was thinking of one of these guys

Jonh Price / Köing/ Ghost/ Philip Graves

"You kept me like a secret and I kept it like an oath"

"But you keep my old scarf from that very first week' Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me"

And maybe we got lost in translationMaybe I asked for too much"

I love the song and I can't stop thinking about them!!!

-🌙

Hello! So happy you’re enjoying the blog! No joke I had this sitting in my drafts debating on whether or not to post it! I lost my voice last Friday SCREAMING “All Too Well” in the theater. Even if you’re not a swiftie it’s just a lyrical masterpiece

All to Well 🧣

Captain John Price x F! Reader

Summary: Based on the ten minute version of All Too Well, John has to face what he had done to his beloved red scarf & all

Warnings: cheating, John being a dick, the usual

“And maybe we got lost in translation maybe I asked for too much, maybe this thing was a master piece before you tore it all up”

Heels in hand Y/N sat on the steps of the hotel where the military ball she was attending with John was being held. She was sobbing her eyes out into her hands. While trying to figure out where he wandered off to, she stumbled across him & his secretary having sex in a bathroom stall. He had told her not to worry about her, but her intuition told her otherwise. These past few months had been excruciatingly difficult. He spent his time home out late, leave her to sit by the front door waiting for him to return. Shallow excuses coming from him over the phone had made her cry herself to sleep one too many times. The sickening smell of his secretary’s perfume lingered on him when he’d come home, & yet he gaslighted her into believing otherwise.

She stood up as she saw the Uber she had called for pull up in front of the hotel. John was adjusting his dress uniform bow tie while running towards the doors to intercept her. Other officers looked at him confused as he sped past them. His secretary Camille wasn’t too far behind him calling his name. Y/N turned her head back when she heard him calling her name. With haste she closed the door to the Uber & ordered the driver to speed away. John was left standing on the sidewalk watching her go. He let out an annoyed sigh & turned around to see his team at the doors. Laswell looking so disappointed in him, & what he had done.

It had been months since Y/N moved out. Contrary to the rumors, Camille didn’t move in with the Captain. She was swiftly fired from her position, & was forced out of the contracting community. Laswell made sure of that. No, John was forced to live with the ghosts of his past lover. Just last week he found the red scarf that she adored hidden in a couch cushion. He inhaled the scent of the red wool trying to remember what her perfume smelled like.

Kyle was deeply concerned for his superiors mental health ever since he ended his relationship so they decided to go to the local pub. After a quick shower & shave he got dressed. He grabbed his jacket off of the rack. The red wool scarf hung beside it taunting him of his mistake. He grabbed it & put it on before leaving. Simon greeted him at the door & they all got a round then headed back to a table in the back corner. He was starting to feel himself go back to happy self before he ended things with Y/N. That was until she walked in with a couple of friends.

They locked eyes, & there was shift in the air. It felt tense. Simon picked it up on the body language shift in his Captain. He followed John’s gaze & sighed as soon as his spotted her. She looked equally as emotionally distressed.

“Talk to her,” Simon said. “You look absolutely fucking miserable Price, & you two have a lot to fix.” Price looked at Simon knowing he was right, this was his mistake he needed to fix. He reluctantly stood up & wiped his hands on his jeans. Her friend Este, stopped mid sentence to glare at the bearded man. She turned around knowing it was coming sooner rather then later.

“Let’s get this over with.” She sighed following him out to the street. You both sat on a bench only a few shops down from the pub. John had planned thousands of things to say to you but now he was speechless.

“What do you want John?” She asked looking at him. “Did we get lost in translation, did I ask for too much?” She spat. Embarrassment & shame turned his cheeks crimson red.

“I wanted to talk.” He simply stated. “I was a fucking selfish prick.”

“I’ll say.” You scoffed. “I swear all you men have the fucking audacity I swear.”

“I don’t disagree.” He replied in agreement. “Listen, I’m in a new hell Y/N.”

“You don’t think I am?” She cried out. “What we had was a masterpiece John before you tore it all up.”

“And I was a fucking idiot.” John said.

“You told me if we had been closer in age, maybe we would’ve been fine.” She stated. “God I still do love you dearly, John. But how can I make sure you won’t break me like a promise?” He took the red wool that lingered of her vanilla fragrance & placed it around her neck.

“Because instead of mailing your things to you, I kept a whole drawer of memories you left behind hoping you’d return to me. You’re the only real thing I’ve ever known.” He replied honestly. She was taken a back he kept even the littlest things she left, from hair pins to the red scarf. Anything to still have a piece of her. He placed a hand on her now flushed cheek. The bitter cold London air started to nip at their exposed skin. Little flecks of white glistened as it started to fall from the sky. The first snow of the winter season. He grabbed her waist & pulled her in for a deep kiss. After they both pulled away they sat in the moment to remember it all too well.

[midnightsslut]

Ok I NEED to know what made you have that epiphany when listening to illicit affairs-all too well

basically, a lot of what makes the ten-minute version so fiery is the sense that she can’t truly know if the relationship/what they felt was real because he kept her like a secret. she keeps saying that it WAS rare! she WAS there! just between us, did the love affair maim you too? because she can’t even really know. it reminded me of what she said in her 2020 EW interview about being gaslit to think certain relationships weren’t even real (also kinda adjacent to her ayhdtws speeches from the 1989 tour, but I can’t think of any offhand and google thinks I’m a robot & I’m too lazy to redo the damn captcha so stick with me). illicit affairs is about that exact feeling.

‘you leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist.’ —> ‘so there we are again, when nobody had to know. you kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath.’

‘take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high, a drug that only worked the first few hundred times.’ —> all the ‘there we are again’s in all too well that describe a different situation where they’re back together again.

‘it’s born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies a million little times’ —> ‘check the pulse and come back swearing it’s the same after three months in the grave, and you wondered where it went to as I reached for you, but all I felt was shame, and you held my lifeless frame.’

‘look at this godforsaken mess that you made me.’ —> ‘weeping in a party bathroom, some actress asking me what happened.’

‘what started in beautiful rooms ends with meetings in parking lots’ —> ‘you keep my old scarf from that very first week, cause it reminds you of innocence, and it smells like me.’ this one isn’t as obvious, but it’s the general theme of a connection being defiled through an on-again, off-again relationship.

this wasn’t really a new epiphany—jaime’s been saying it for a while—but I didn’t realize just how similar the songs were before, or at least I hadn’t thought about it in a while.

[sadinasaphrite]

Oh no here's more fic. I like to think Tav talking Yurgir to death made Astarion a little weak in the knees, so here's a 1500 words of Astarion realizing he's catching actual feelings.

Read on AO3!

* * * * *

After all these years, Astarion could hardly believe he was so close. Just one murder, and he’d have his answers. Raphael would tell him the secrets engraved upon his back, secrets kept from him ever since that wretched night Cazador held him down and carved runes into his flesh. He was so close, he could taste it. The devil they were to kill stood before them, giving a fucking monologue of all things, and Astarion burned with the desire, the need to sink his blades into the devil’s heart. Nothing would stand in his way.

And yet, Astarion couldn’t help but feel Tav did not appreciate the urgency of the situation.

The bard was just… just standing there, chit-chatting about what Raphael smelled like or something, when they should be gutting this bastard!

“What are you doing?” Astarion interrupted with a hiss. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it!”

Astarion reached for his blades and Tav subtly waved a hand. Nothing more than a flick of two fingers, but enough to signal Astarion to hold. Astarion stopped.

Dammit. Dammit! If Astarion had any sense, he’d ignore Tav, or use the conversation as an opportunity for a distraction. If he could slip into the shadows and climb up to where Yurgir stood, lording over them and prattling on about his contract or some nonsense… but no. The devil and his followers had already spotted them, and only a supreme distraction would allow Astarion to slip out of sight.

What in the nine hells, now the bastard was singing.

“Spill all the blood sworn to the night,” the devil sang in a gravelly voice, “Silence all prayers; smother each rite. Wander Shar’s Halls hungry to slay, leave no Justiciar alive to obey…”

What was Tav playing at? Tav knew how important this was to him! Why was this conversation even happening? Once they’d confirmed the devil was the target, their merry little band should have started right on the murder, not… not whatever the hells was happening now!

Astarion should act. While Yurgir was distracted by a fucking song, he should raise his crossbow, fire a bolt right through his eye… but he didn’t. Astarion didn’t reach for his weapons.

All because Tav signaled for him to wait.

Dammit.

He shouldn’t give a shit about Tav. Tav meant nothing to him, Astarion firmly told himself. The bard was just a means to an end, a fool to be seduced and tricked into protecting Astarion until he had no further need of protection. He didn’t care about Tav. He didn’t care about anyone. And he certainly wasn’t influenced by those late night talks, gentle words of compassion and understanding, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a playful, teasing smile thrown his way, or the idiotic, blind trust to submit to his fangs…

Astarion held, awaiting Tav’s signal.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free. This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.”

The fucking devil was still singing.

“So he’s the one who slaughtered the Justiciars,” Astarion snapped when the wretched song ended at last. “Can we kill him now? Because if he doesn’t die, then Raphael won’t tell me a damn thing about my scars.”

Tav didn’t respond, didn’t even look his way, but instead focused on Yurgir with a sharp, piercing look. Astarion froze. Something had shifted in Tav’s gaze during the last line of the song. He’d never seen Tav’s eyes like that. This wasn’t a warrior gauging their odds, or a tactician analyzing a battlefield. Tav looked At Yurgir like a predator ready to strike, a wolf waiting for the perfect opportunity to rip the throat out of a hare.

“Quite bloodthirsty, as lyrics go,” Tav said, a little too casually. “Have you considered some instrumental accompaniment?”

“I don’t want to make it pretty, I want to silence it!” Yurgir roared. The stench of sulfur flared through the room, and the small infernal army shifted eagerly in response. Battle was upon them. “Enough prattle. The lyrics are clear. All who hear the song must die. Time to die.”

Yurgir aimed his crossbow right at Tav’s heart. Something twisted uncomfortably in Astarion’s gut and his fingers twitched toward his blades.

Tav didn’t even blink.

“Raphael’s a sly lyricist. He tricked you. Your followers heard your song and still live.”

Astarion froze. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the song, focusing on how to end Yurgir as quickly as possible, but…

Yurgir looked as taken aback as Astarion felt.

“The merregons?” He asked. “They barely have a thought to share among themselves… but they do have ears.”

Hellfire flared behind the devil’s eyes, and he turned to the hellish soldiers around them.

“Kill yourselves. Back to the hells with you!” he roared. Without hesitation, the merregons all around them obeyed, axes swinging all around them with the wet sound of blades into flesh. The army all around them shrank from a dozen devils, to just one devil and his pet.

The barest hint of a smirk pulled at Tav’s lips.

Astarion’s heart hadn’t beat in two centuries, but something in his chest fluttered.

“I still hear it!” Yurgir seized his head with one hand and shook violently. “Seems your theory is wrong!”

“You’re not finished yet,” Tav said, eyes never leaving Yurgir. “The displacer can hear you, can’t she?”

The bard was doing well to hide the smirk threatening to come out, but there was something else in Tav’s eyes. Confidence. Hunger. Even with the devil looming over them, Astarion couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tav.

“Kill her.”

Astarion’s breath caught in his chest.

“Kill Nessa?” Yurgir hesitated, uncertain. The devil locked eyes with the bard. Tav’s gaze never wavered.

Slowly, Yurgir raised his crossbow, pointing it to the displacer beast lounging under the torchlight. “Stay very still, my beauty.”

The crossbow bolt pierced the beast’s heart and she collapsed, dead before she hit the floor. Tav’s eyes gleamed in victory, and Astarion had the wild, intrusive thought that he wanted to see that hungry, vicious gleam in Tav’s eyes a thousand times over. Standing side by side, interrogating information out of someone previously a threat, but now cowered under their combined might. He and Tav, working together, making sure no one would ever pose a danger to either of them ever again.

“I still hear it!” The devil roared.

“My dear hunter, isn’t it obvious?” Tav’s voice was sickly sweet, dripping from the bard’s lips like poisoned honey. The sound rolled down Astarion’s spine with a shiver. “You must kill yourself. Then you’ll be free.”

No. Surely not. There wasn’t a chance in the nine hells this would work. Astarion looked back at Yurgir, and was shocked to find the devil in a look of deep contemplation. Yurgir drew a sword from the scabbard on his back.

“If you’re wrong about this, I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive, contract be damned!” Yurgir snarled. He placed the tip of the sword against his chest.

Tav smirked.

Astarion’s knees went weak.

“Nicely played, Raphael. Bastard.” Yurgir plunged the blade into his own heart, vanishing in an explosion of hellfire.

The room around them fell silent, filled only with the crackle of fire from the braziers.

Beside him, the other companions let out a sigh of relief, along with some laughter as the tension vanished from the air. Tav shot Astarion a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. This smile was closer to what Astarion was used to seeing, wide and open and honest, but there was still something in Tav’s eyes, a gleam of a successful hunt, the adrenaline still pumping through the bard’s veins.

“There you go. One devil, killed. Raphael should be happy.”

For the first time in a very long time, Astarion was speechless.

This was a side of Tav he never knew existed. Cunning. Manipulative. Even a touch sadistic and cruel. And Tav did all of it for him. All to help give Astarion what he wanted, to help him with Raphael’s deal.

As Astarion watched Tav leave the chamber, laughing with the others, he felt something akin to heat flush his cold body. Not desire. Certainly not lust. But… something. Something something more. Something dangerous. A hunger for Tav that had nothing to do with his vampiric thirst.

Astarion knew something within him had changed. He could no longer fool himself into thinking Tav was just another pawn or victim. Which only meant Tav was something else.

He let out a cold breath and ran a hand through his curls, then hurried to follow the others.

Shit.

[secretkittywolf]

OC - Xehla's Dialogue Lines

Hello - Hi there Traveler! I'm Xelha, a bug specialist and bug collector from the "People of the Springs". What's that? You collect bugs too?! I have so many bug facts I can share with you. Let's go out and collect bugs together!

Chat: New Find - Is that a new bug?! Oh wait. That's just an ordinary Crystal Beetle.

Chat: Aphid Fact - Some "Masters of the Night-Wind" Phlogiston Engravers will use Phlogiston Aphids specifically to pre-process the phlogiston they use. Luckily, none of the aphids get hurt during this. I made sure of it.

Chat: Pyro Crystalfly Fact - Pyro Crystalflies, with their red-hot flames in turn, carry the passion to struggle and strive throughout all of Natlan... They're so much like us in so many ways.

When It Rains - Oh no! It's raining. Best find shelter before my clothes and bag gets soaked!

When Thunder Strikes - Thunder? Oh no... The flashes of lightning scares away the bugs!

When It Snows - It's freezing! How are you not cold?!

When The Sun Is Out - A perfect day to collect bugs.

When the Wind Is Blowing - Nice breeze to this sunny day!

Good Morning - Good morning Traveler! Where am I going? To the Record Store that my family runs. What about you?

Good Afternoon - Fascinating. Even though they're the same species. The green on this Dendro Crystalfly is so beautiful. Wonder what secrets it holds...

Good Evening - Okay. Time to let the bugs go....you... you seriously thought I'd keep them?!

Good Night - Have a good night Traveler. Oh and if any Crystal Beetles bite you in the night, just flick them off. You won't hurt them.

About Xelha: Bug Collecting - I just love studying bugs. They're all so fascinating! So small but the secrets they hold are interesting, especially Hydro Crystalflies. They have so many secrets...

About Xehla: Record Store - My family runs the Record Store in the "People of the Springs". I'm not a fan of music. It's not bad, but when I have bugs with me, it scares them like thunder rumbling or lightning flashing.

About Us: Information Sharing - You've informed me so much on different bugs from other nations and I can't thank you enough. I, of course, happily shared what I know. From bugs of Natlan to bugs from other nations, information I have acquired from other travellers and merchants when they have come to Natlan.

About the Vision - How I got my vision? Well I found it. Yeah, I didn't get it gifted to me by an archon, I found it when I was caving in Sulfurous Veins. After I found it, I went around, asking if anyone has lost their vision, but no one had so I kept it. One day, whilst bug collecting, it activated and I found out it was a hydro vision.

Anything to Share: Fascination of Bugs. - Many people wonder why I am so interested in bugs. It's because these tiny creatures can do so many things! Like they're used in alchemy, beetle fighting, and all sorts of other stuff too. I like them because each bug tells a different tale and no two are the same.

Anything to Share: Scarabs - Some people say that the patterns on a scarabs back are hints at some deep relationship between them and the ancient ruins that dot Sumeru's desert. Legend also has it that when the Desert King Al-Ahmar ruled the desert, the souls of those vanquished by him would be sealed within scarabs by the magically-skilled priests at great triumphs held in the City of the Pillars. The scarabs would then be charged with defending the sacred temples and palaces for all eternity in the name of Al-Ahmar. In the end, the temples would collapse and the palaces would fall, and only these golden insects would remain, fulfilling their ancient, forgotten oaths.

Anything to Share: Onikabutos - Inazuman folktales say that when the gods were apportioning territory to the many animals, the onikabuto, who detested conflict, chose first to live in lands saturated in Electro. As many years passed, it evolved bizarre patterns with which to frighten trespassers and developed horns that could release electricity to deter predators. Yet though it wears armour and bears horns, the onikabuto hates fighting most of all animals, despite being used in beetle battles.

Interesting Things - I love asking merchants and travellers of they could kindly share tales and scriptures from their nations. I've learnt so much over the years and have been documenting everything I've learnt too. I would love to go out and explore the nation's myself but... I can't leave my home. Natlan is special and my family, my bugs, Ororon, they all live there and I don't want to leave...

About Mualani - She's so sweet and kind! I love stopping by her store and she sometimes goes out and helps me collect bugs for studying. Mualani also taught me how to ride a Sharky... let's just say it's harder than it looks... Heh.

About Kachina - I love visiting Kachina in the "Children of the Echoes". She always gives me snacks before I head off on my travels around Natlan for bugs and she allows me to pet Ayo.

About Kinich - We've gotten to know each other over time with any orders at the Record Store and when I order more jars. I know many people don't like Ajaw, but he's really funny!

About Xilonen - She's so cool! The fact that she crafts Ancient Name's is such an honour. When she made mine, I took out some time to bake her favourite snacks to say thank you.

About Ororon - He's my best friend! I love visiting the "Masters of the Night-Wind" and chatting with him about bugs: mostly aphids. We've been able to give each other advice and share interesting facts with each other.

About Chasca - I don't know her that well. I would love to but she kind of scares me.

About Citlali - I've met Granny Itzli when I've hung out with Ororon and she's really nice! I like chatting with her. Yes, she does have a bit of a short and firey temper, but she's still nice.

About Mavuika - She's awesome! Such a strong and amazing archon. I have only seen her during the Pilgrimage and I'm so jealous of those who have met her.

About Iansan - Never. Doing. A. Workout. Again! I have never felt so exhausted after working out with Iansan. She's relentless! Even though the workout wasn't for very long and we took frequent breaks, my arms and legs ached like crazy!

About Ifa - I've met Ifa when hanging out with Ororon. He's a really nice guy and being since he's a Saurian veterinarian from the Flower-Feather Clan, he's so caring and kind, looking out for any Saurian, even my own Koholasaur: Gurgle.

More About Xelha: I - I love Gurgle so much. She's my baby Koholasaur and she's precious! Gurgle is very curious and often comes with me around the "People of the Springs" when I look for bugs in that area. I call her Gurgle since she makes gurgling sounds whenever she swims.

More About Xelha: II - You know, I used to be afraid of bugs. Yeah, the bug collector and specialist used to run away screaming if she saw one. But over time, I learnt that there was nothing to be afraid of and decided to learn more about them. Now, it's something I want to do for a living and I'm working hard to learn all there is about the bugs of Teyvat.

More About Xelha: III - Many people, especially my family, tell me I should sell my paintings since I have so many but I just can't part with them. Each painting is special and unique and I can't sell them off. What if they get ruined it damaged? No. They all stay with me.

More About Xelha: IV - I didn't think I'd ever meet someone who collected bugs like me the way you do Traveler. The fact that you listen to what I have to say about them makes me feel so happy. The only person who ever listened was Ororon but now, I have you. So thank you, Traveler.

More About Xelha: V - I'm so glad we're friends, Traveler. Believe it or not but, I don't have many friends, only really Ororon. Most people see me as the weird bug girl and that's it. So having you with me when I go out bug collecting or listen to my ramblings, it always brings a smile to my face.

Xelha's Hobbies - I like painting the bugs I collect in my spare time. Sometimes you just need to relax and painting does that for me. But getting the bugs to keep still can be a pain.

Xelha's Troubles - Music. I don't like music, especially when I'm bug studying. If music plays whilst I'm studying a crystalfly or an aphid, it spooks them and they fly or scurry off. It's really frustrating.

Favourite Food - Fish. It's so easy to catch fish since I live in the "People of the Springs" and it's good for you too! Like did you know that fish is high in Omega-3 and  is a good source of vitamin D? They have health benefits, are low in calories and high in protein. So yeah! I love fish.

Least Favourite Food - Radishes. I don't like the taste of them. I remember as a kid being told to each my veggies and I would eat them all... except for radishes. They just taste so.... ugh. Disgusting.

Receiving a Gift: I - Wow! You made this?! It's really good!

Receiving a Gift: II - It's not bad. Could use a teensy bit more flavour. Just keep practicing!

Receiving a Gift: III - I don't like this. I'm sorry Traveler, I won't be eating anymore. Please don't be mad with me!

Birthday - Happy Birthday Traveler! I hope you're having a great birthday today. I have a gift for you. Tada! It's a book containing every bit of information of bugs from every nation, where they can be found etc. You said you go out and collect them, but have trouble locating those bugs since they love to hide so I hope the book I made helps you!

Feelings About Ascension: Intro - Woah. Did I just get an upgrade?

Feelings About Ascension: Building Up - I feel so much stronger! Thank you Traveler

Feelings About Ascension: Climax - My power keeps on getting stronger.

Feelings About Ascension: Conclusion - So much power! I feel so strong like I can take on anything!

[shadowqueenjude]

I shoved my pack off my bedroll. “Then why not tell him? You were his faithful dog in every other sense.”

This response from Feyre is nothing short of victim-blaming. Faithful dog? Are you serious????

Lucien sat back on his heels. "So you know everything, then." I managed to nod without blacking out from the pain. My agony must have shown, because he winced. "Well, at least we don't have to lie to you anymore. Let's clean you up a bit."

Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien's—bellowed across the chamber. "TO YOUR LEFT!" “You offered up your name for me—after all that I said to you, all I did, you still offered up your name. Didn’t you realize I would help you after that? Oath or no oath?”

"In front of everyone?" "Yes," Lucien replied—more gently than I'd heard him speak to me before.

"He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it—really talk to him, Feyre. You'll figure it out." Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw. "Don't ask me to pick."

"Did he let you take me today," I said hoarsely, "so that I'd stop asking to help rebuild?" "No. I decided to take you myself."

"I know you wanted to help," Lucien offered. "I'm sorry."

"I know, I know," Rhysand drawled. "I'll return her in a week." No—no, Tamlin couldn't be making those kinds of threats, not when they meant he was letting me go. Even Lucien was gaping at Tamlin, his face white with fury and shock.

"This feels an awful lot like a interrogation." Lucien sucked in a breath, but remained silent.

"But Hybern—" Lucien intervened calmly, "I already have my sources looking into it." I gave him a beseeching look. Lucien sighed a bit and said to Tamlin, "If we perhaps trained her in secret—"

Lucien cleared his throat. "She meant no harm, Tam." "I know she meant to harm," he snapped. Lucien held his gaze. "Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax." Tamlin's emerald eyes were feral as he snarled at Lucien, "Did I ask for your opinion?"

I asked my friend to tell me what it was, yet... Lucien had that look he always did when he wanted to, but his loyalty to Tamlin got in the way.

Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High lords do come for her, let her stand a chance...

Don't give me that look Lucien. Silence again. Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house. I didn’t want to know what was happening in that room, what he’d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.

"Tamlin," I rasped. But he was already down the front drive, walking toward the looming iron gates. Lucien remained at the foot of the stairs, his face so, so pale.

"Just—be patient, Feyre," Lucien tried, wincing as he followed after Tamlin. "Please. I'll see what I can do. I'll try again." Lucien hadn’t explained the black eye and cut lip, either. FAITHFUL DOG??? After everything he did for you??? And what happened in ACOMAF?? NOTHING SHORT OF ABUSE!!!! And Feyre didn't even want to know about it. After knowing Tamlin was abusing him and he still stood up to him, Feyre accused him of being a dog and then later assigned him to be a liaison to Tamlin where he's being abused AGAIN. SJM has written her main character VICTIM-BLAMING the nicest guy in the entire series. Wtf.