#* lady of the rose (♔)

[oflcgaciesfm]

*  ♔  ◟     (   ella hunt,   twenty-eight,   cis female,  she/her   )     the  capital  of  king’s  landing  welcomes celia reyne  of  house reyne,  the  lady  of  castamere.  news  borne  by  raven  sends  word  that  they  are  reputed  to  be  talented,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  prove  to  be  gullible.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  melodious, angelic singing accompanied by the harmonious playing of a harp + an exquisite rose among piles of gold + a soft swan among fiery lions .  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with house reyne,  where  they  conspire  to  try to find her own personal happiness amidst her family's high ambitions and to do her best to be a dutiful daughter .  but  in  the  end,  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.     ⸻  Q,   35,   they/them,   cst.

FULL NAME: Celia Maris Reyne TITLES/MONIKERS: Lady Reyne/ The Nightingale of the West, The Diamond Swan of the Castamere mines BIRTHPLACE: Castamere, The Westerlands AGE: 28 LANGUAGES: tba Loyal to: House Reyne PARENTS: Ruling Lord Caspor Reyne & Lady Helicent Reyne nee Tarbeck RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Single but her father is looking for a betrothal ISSUE (s): none SIBLINGS: Rohanne Reyne, Sebastian Reyne & 1 open sibling OTHER RELATIVES : Lynora Reyne ( niece )

MORE INFO:

Celia is very sociable and optimistic person . Growing up, she's been fully trained to be an immaculate socialite and diplomat. She's generally quite composed ( though she does have moments of anxiety or worry, especially now with the latest plot drop of a murder afoot ) soft, gentle , sweet, extremely graceful and well-read person. Her flaws are that sometimes she can get a little too self-sacrificing, like she would stomach and tamper down away her own negative emotions or pain/hurt / any suffering just to maintain the serene peace, carefree-ness and happiness of her loved ones . However when someone has really hurt any of her loved ones in quite a big way, she can be an absolute ice queen and harshly unforgiving. She can also be naive/quite gullible/too-trusting.

Likened to a rose due to her beauty, softness and ability to capture attention and being surrounded with so much over-flowing wealth, one could almost expect her to be vain and spoiled. However she was not, thanks to the very wise septa that helped raised her and whom she looked up to as a second mother.

Extra tidbits:

has been coined the "nightingale of the west" due to her naturally gifted singing voice. having discovered this blessing when she was a little girl, her parents have spared no expense to make sure that her gift was dedicatedly nurtured and further enhanced over the years.

huge history nerd and also a bibliophile

she is actually a widow as her husband passed away briefly a year after the marriage due to a hunting expedition gone wrong. ( it had been an arranged marriage so she only had grown to care for him as a friend during their brief time together )

quite skilled with needlework and talented with the harp. has quite a pretty penmanship.

has no ambitious bone in her body, but being a docile and dutiful daughter & knowing how her family has ( for generations ) longed to be the rulers of the west, she dutifully plays any part/ does anything her family requires of her to further their agenda

[heartsvick]

*  ♔  ◟     (   phoebe dynevor,   twenty-eight,   ciswoman,   she/her   )     the  capital  of  king’s  landing  welcomes  meera  of  house manderly,  the  lady  of  white harbor.  news  borne  by  raven  sends  word  that  they  are  reputed  to  be  assertive,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  prove  to  be  erratic.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of watching the constellations with exhausted eyes, a familiar guise of complacency ruminating on your features, head raised high in defiance.  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  themselves,  where  they  conspire  toprotect her family , no matter the cost.  but  in  the  end,  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones. 

⊰ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. meera manderly 𝐚𝐠𝐞. 28 , 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. bisexual . 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. rose aldridge, jo march , elizabeth bennet, eloise bridgerton, arya stark

𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔. perceptive, assertive, ardent, dauntless, gregarious 𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔. abrasive, erratic, boisterous, proud, brazen, ill-tempered

⊰ 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐲 .

you're young and the sun is always in your eyes. there's a light and they tell you to never lose it. your innocent eyes, so wide and curious, spared from all the cruelties of the world, look up. searching for an answer, wondering what is there to lose ? but you smile and nod, obediently as you were told to.

☼ life feels empty when there's nothing expected of you ; and meera wouldn't have minded that emptiness as long as she wouldn't need to face it. she could've filled it with her imagination, a meaningless activity or idling her life away by simply watching her siblings, always admiring them from afar. ☼ she’s too young when the touch of death would attempt to preserve her heart in painful iciness. reminding her not of her own mortality but of those around her. when her mother takes her last breath, she doesn’t shed a tear, as if death managed to at least freeze one part of her.  she doesn’t want to change, never lose any memory of her mother and so she decides to continue, as if nothing happened and the smile never left her eyes.  ☼  yet,  the realization of mortality keeps lingering. in her heart, the air she breathes in.  and she finds herself panicking the first time,  hands shaking around a dagger she’d kept close to her.  the same night,  her father finds her and the next day she’s given a sword. ☼ it is in her training sessions that she finds pieces of herself again, and it gives her a sense as if she can do something, instead of only watching idly, as she always used to. life begins to feel light again, and she can shape it and melt the cold with her warmth. ☼ the first time she saves someone, is also the first time she finds a friend. they begin to spend all their time with each other, him jokingly calling meera her mentor when she’s sharing the little knowledge and skills she possesses. they always get in trouble but they always get away and luck would feed her arrogance until it would grow deadly. ☼ it is only a childish jest but some would never understand a child. when meera makes a simple bet with her friend, she’d thought she’d probably lose a few coins and not a life, her best friend. it is simple:  steal something from a stranger without getting caught. ☼ and she watches her friend, eagerly awaiting the possession he’d return with. but he'd never and the moment she would realize it,  it would be too late.  when meera runs to him, time is ripped from her hands and she cannot even draw her sword when the body of her friend already lies there motionlessly, empty. and she’d never speak of it because she’d be punished for her sins twice, and on the same day her brother would also be taken from her. ☼ it is as if the only thing she ever absorbed was her guilt. slowly and silently, it was eating her away. and for weeks she wouldn’t speak until one day she’d just return. dulled eyes hidden by a smile, acting as if nothing ever happened again. as if nothing mattered at all.  ☼ she’d stay at the place where all her memories were preserved but somehow she’d always be gone. away. spending most of her time honing her skills or wasting her time on the meaningless. ☼ with the news of her father’s declining health, shock had long frozen still and meera is continuing her life as it is. deep down knowing that tragedy is awaiting their family. hoping that she can do more than just watch.

⊰ 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧��𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧���

tba / soon !

[bloodiaed]

*  ♔  ◟     (   naomi   scott,   twenty   eight,   cis   woman,   she   or   her   )     the  capital  of  king's  landing  welcomes  ELINOR  of  HOUSE RYSWELL  née  SERRY,  the  dowager  ruling  lady  of  the  rills.  news  borne  by  raven  sends  word  that  they  are  reputed  to  be  nurturing,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  prove  to  be  guarded.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  a  small  hand  clinging  to  her  skirts  +  a  wardrobe  of  mourning  blacks  that  have  just  begun  to  gather  dust  +  a  flower  blossomed  that  has  not  quite  adjusted  to  winter’s  bitter  sting.  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  house  stark  and  the  north,  where  they  conspire  to  procure  suitable  matches  for  her  good  sisters.  but  in  the  end,  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.

full name : elinor margaery ryswell nee serry . age : twenty eight . region : riverlands . title : dowager ruling lady of the rills , former lady of southshield . gender + pronouns : cis woman , she / her . orientation : pansexual . eye color : dark brown . hair color : black . height : five foot , six inches . inspirations : catelyn tully ( a song of ice and fire ) , jane seymour ( historical ) , persephone & hera ( greek mythology ) , morticia addams ( the addams family ) .

life in southshield was quiet , a peaceful upbringing that was away from the most watchful eye of westeros . their power at sea was strong and vast but they hardly had need for it these days . elinor didn't imagine much for her life , until one fateful day she met torrhen ryswell - a northern man who she met when he came to barter and trade goods on southshield . he was so handsome and elinor in all her beauty was like a magnet to him , and they fell instantly in love .

she was nineteen name days old when she married him , moving from idyllic island of the reach to the bitter cold of the north - but she could endure it for him . they were blessed with a child only a few years into their union , and their second a few years after . their life was perfect , until a fateful day two years ago when torrhen went on a hunting trip , returning home with injuries across his body . a few days after arriving back home he died , and her heart was shattered .

it was through the help of her good sisters that she was able to survive and heal , helping each other through their grief and pain . more coming , i swear . summary : sunflower turned winter rose , certified momfriend who is actually a mom , heart is currently healing .

[jonquildove]

egoxistic:

{ ♔ } He did not enjoy the fact that she suddenly spoke up against him, so for now he clenched his fists even tighter and went after her, he taking the visor of his armor off as he walked to her. “I do not need a queen. I do not like queens, they are greedy and sap expense to the hardworking people that bow to her. I may marry Margaery, as she is beautiful and a hero, unlike you. I do not need your company either. It is like you said, your father tried to automatically dethrone me, so why should I ever consider your request of pretending to l o v e you”. For now when he remained where he was, he decided to head in front of her, standing there with his arms now crossed over his chest. It was gullible and fun how this girl could have loved him and adored him like if he was some kind of Prince Charming, which he would never ever become either. If the stories was to be told about him, he would rather be referred as the fierce dangerous dragon who’s fire would demolish buildings and slay thousands of innocent souls. He would ride on a dragon, he touching the skin of the dragons in the tombs, the largest one being Balerion the Black Dread. Then there had been Vhagar, whom Aemond rode on. He swallowed the black darkness of the night with his massive scaled body. He would not want to be the prince who rescued the princesses from danger, as he liked Rhaegar's battling in tourneys, he was not sure he liked the love story between him and Lyanna. How could he love the wolf girl he sighted upon in the tourney so quickly, giving her a blue rose as a lady's favour -- he forgetting his love for Elia? Reading further, he had read that his marriage to Elia got annulled. He wanted to be the one who ravaged them and ripped their innocence into pieces. As he watches Ros and other woman on the bed, she bleeding from the chandelier piece the redhead gored into her skin. He did not think them innocent. Yet Sansa was someone he liked to torment, an innocent wolf. He leaned in, eyes fixed on her in a creepy way. “I am not a part of your little dream, Sansa. It will never ever come true. I will personally see to it myself”.

Sansa was surprised when Joffrey walked in front of her, but stood her ground. She did not wish to anger him, though. How could he call her not beautiful? He had said she was, vowing to never hurt her again, they kissing in the morning light of the balcony and he giving her a necklace. His eyes had been soft and kind, saying he would protect her from harm. “I only meant…who will carry on your legacy, if you don’t have a Queen?" She says in a soft voice, he thinking it sounded more so a whine. "And, I just thought…if you ever had any feelings for me…” His words still stung, despite her already knowing his cruelty. What had happened to the gallant prince she’d once loved with all her heart? And she had once thought he’d reciprocated her feelings for him… She couldn’t help gulping, upon seeing his eyes fixed on her so creepily. How miserable was Joffrey determined to make her, was her life going to be a living hell from now on? “I understand, Your Grace. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

[casterlygldcs]

withsilvereyes​:

setting : the lannister apartments in highgarden, sometime before the storm ; starter for @casterlygldcs

icy hues gazed down at the gardens below, rich with colours and expanding further than she could’ve imagined. it was certainly not her first visit to the reach, but it seemed the very landscape itself changed every time she came. she much preferred the rolling hills of her own home, the familiarity that landscape brought, but she would admit this place was quite beautiful.

golden curls brushed across her back as she turned and walked to the table she had initially taken to, her tea surely cold now, her correspondences left untouched. katherine’s mind was, uncharacteristically, scattered today. one would look about the very room she was in and say she surely had everything. she did not want for a thing. and yet, the one thing she need give in return, she still had not.

hands came to her hips now, willing herself to focus, she had already sent a handmaiden to her husband, notifying him of her arrival. she brushed through her locks one more time, assessing herself in the vanity before making her way to his audience chamber. katherine had become an expert in outward appearances, stride graceful and composure collected, not even those close to her would sense the thoughts within her mind.

at the announcement of her arrival, she strode in the room, frame dipping elegantly into a curtsy, before she gently uttered, “your grace.” it was both a term of respect, and endearment from her. a genuine smile curved upwards upon her lips now as shoulders visibly relaxed. though heartbeat quickened slightly, as she genuinely enjoyed being around him, if not for the one thing that hung between them as of late.

“i hope your day has been well.” katherine began, the beginning of what, she was unsure. if anything she simply craved moments of connection with him that did not involve the very future of the westerlands. “i was just looking out at the gardens and thought we could certainly use some more colour in ours at home, don’t you agree?”

♔

the mood of the lion king was foul. it was easy to know when the mood of the lion king was foul, for his silence was something that was far more disturbing. something about his aura made those around him entirely nervous, wondering just when those startling hues would fix more like the eyes of a lion on prey rather than the hue of emeralds. there was something that shifted in his gaze that made him seem less human and more leader, more the solid crown of gold that rested upon his head rather than the human with the blood, the flesh, the emotions. 

“your grace.” he greeted her, the image of westerlands chivalry; the ladies and pageboys who stood and watched, and watched, and watched. he extended her his hand to help her raise after her curtsy; she was perfect. she had always been perfect. the epitome of what it was to be dutiful and gracious. house serrett had placed her under his eye by bringing her to court. the newest lady in waiting in the household of the former rose queen - and yet, as much as he seemed not to notice the new face, he did. 

as he noticed her so many years ago, at one of the many balls taken part within the court of casterly to welcome king viserys. masked as one of the virtues, dressed all in white. as he had noticed her at the last tourney. but that was a lifetime ago. “you would have heard of what happened this morning.” 

the prince of fair isle had misstepped: he had done more than misstepped, he had resulted himself to a grovelling begger at the foot of the river king. a boy at heart who was wrapped in the tartans of the trident and had a crown placed upon his head by his banners who loved him - the lion had broken, and found himself begging for the help of the sheep. the hand of the king had been responsible for breaking the news to the lion king, the lord of the burning bush: and in that moment, the lion king felt as though he too would set his own aflame. 

for their weakness. for their disgrace. it was getting to the point where the lions were ripping themselves apart. there was no one left for them to turn on but one another: almost as though the murder of their aunt had been the final thing which had held them together. to beg the river king to interfere in the way in which a king conducted matters in his own court: as though being offered the clemency of exile would be enough of a mercy to her. the news had been broken in the morning, and now the evening had come.

and the queen of the westerlands spoke to him about colours. colours in casterly rock, that was carved into the mountain. he continued to eat his venison in silence after her suggestion; something about her aura was nervous. on edge. they both knew all too well just what she was on edge about: the fact that her womb remained as empty as the silence haunting their current dining chamber. 

“do you hear yourself, katherine?” 

[lustspren]

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dreamcatcher

❅ Service Room - Gahyeon.

❅ Jealousy - Yoohyeon.

❅ Paperwork - JiU.

LOONA

☾ Extreme Measures (Starboy EP.0) - Heejin.

TWICE

♡ Backup Material - Momo.

♡ Sprout - Chaeyoung.

♡ La notte delle rose nere - Sana & Mina.

♡ Queen of Hearts - Jihyo & Dahyun

♡ Flashing Lights - Momo & Mina.

♡ Champagne Showers - Jihyo, Sana.

♡ All Of The Lights - Mina, Sana Momo.

G-IDLE

✞ The Judge - Soyeon

✞ Open, Pandora - Soyeon

✞ California Love - Minnie, Soyeon

✞ O Sole Mio - Yuqi, Soyeon

✞ Royal - Miyeon, Soyeon

RED VELVET

♔ Devil's Walkway - Joy & Wendy.

LEE SUNMI

🦊 STARBOY EP 1 | The Hills ft Sunmi.

NMIXX

🕶 My Number One - Sullyoon.

🕶 Silence Speaks - Sullyoon ft Isa.

🕶 The Way You Look Tonight - Sullyoon, Haewon, Bae.

ITZY

👟 Erinýes - Ryujin.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP-0 - OT5.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 1 - Yuna.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 2 - Lia.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 3 - Yeji.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 4 - Ryujin, Yuna.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 5 - Chaeryeong, Chaeyeon.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 6 - OT5.

👟 Post Stress Therapy EP. 16 - Karina, Yeji.

AESPA

🐍 Erinýes - Ningning, Winter

🐍 Red Hot Sloppy Christmas - Karina.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 7 - 0T4.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 8 - Giselle.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 9 - Ningning.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 10 - Winter.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 11 - Karina.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 12- Ningning.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 13 - Karina, Giselle.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 14 - Winter, Ningning.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 15 - OT4 + No:Ze.

🐍 Post Stress Therapy EP. 16 - Karina, Yeji.

🐍 Thank you for the Venom - Winter.

🐍 Ko Ko Bop 1/2 - OT4

TIFFANY YOUNG

⭐ STARBOY EP.2 Prisoner ft Tiffany Young.

LE SSERAFIM

💠 STARBOY EP.3 Earned It ft Kazuha.

💠 Sweet Painted Lady - Chaewon POV.

💠 family ties ft Chaewon.

STAYC

🧸 Diamond Eyes - Sullyoon ft Isa.

NewJeans

🧚‍♂️Cool With You ft Danielle.

🧚‍♂️Con te partirò ft Hanni.

MOMOLAND

🧚‍♂️No Diggity ft Ahin

IVE

🦋 I Hate Everything About You ft Wonyoung.

[theelderhazelnut]

Ombra

Name: Golnaz

Last Name: Unknown

Name Analysis:

Golnaz ♔ As beautiful as a flower

Ombra ♔ Shadow

Date of Birth: November 26th

Age: 33

Alias: Ombra ♔ The Ironhead ♔ The Metal-Bender ♔ The Principle ♔ Miss. Ombra ♔

Nicknames: Metalhead ♔ My flower ♔ My one and only ♔ Cotton Candy ♔ My Angel ♔ Kitten ♔ Doll ♔ Shadow Rose (given by Sienna @loverofthewindgod) ♔ Fe (given by Yoomi @wu-shi-academy) ♔ Shiny Unnie (given by Yoomi)♔ Stone Face ♔ Umbreon (given by Megan @scentedcandleibex) ♔ Monsterf*cker

Gender: AFAB ♔ Demigirl (she/they)

Siblings: 1

Sexuality: Graysexual Grayromantic

Species: Half Metalrealmer- Half human

Phobia / Philias:

Nyctophile ♔ Lover of darkness or night

Pluviophile ♔ Lover of rain

Autophile ♔ Lover of solitude

Bibliophile ♔ Lover of books

Galeophobia ♔ Fear of sharks

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Dark brown

Origins: Earthrealm ♔ Nationality: Iranian

Current Location: Earthrealm ♔ Metalrealm

Appearance

Human

The first image is made in Picrew and the second one is made in Artbreeder.

Height: 5'9

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Status: Alive

Social Status:

The principal of MRD’s interrealm forces

The most powerful iron-bender

Affiliation:

MRD Organization

Brotherhood of Shadow

White Lotus

Physical Health: Good

Mental Health: Alright

Likes:

Moonlight/night

Books

Metal music

Deep House music

Drawing

Daydreaming

Psychology

Birds

Family and friends

Food

Travelling

Cozy places

Tea

Iranian dishes

Beach

Cloudy days

Stormy days

Thunder storms

Dislikes:

Stupidity

Closed minds

Loud music

Large crowds

Laziness

Rave

Children

insects

Dancing

Singing

Being forced to spend time with children/babies

Yelling

Government

Speed:

7/10

Agility:

9/10

Intelligence:

9/10

Strength:

8/10

Stamina:

7/10

Stealth:

9/10

Cooperation:

5/10

Durability:

8/10

Mentor(s):

Andrius Nils @scentedcandleibex

Sonya Blade

Fighting Skills

8/10

Flexibility

9/10

Reflexes

8/10

Instinct

7/10

Family:

Gizem | Older sibling | Alive

Alistar Nils | Distant relative | Deceased @scentedcandleibex

Friends / Allies:

Gizem

Quan chi

Sonya Blade

Johnny Cage

Cassie Cage

Noob Saibot

Fujin

Raiden

Jade

Kitana

Yoomi @wu-shi-academy

Kate @kmofficial

Henrieta @bar10du

Andrius Nils @scentedcandleibex

Megan @scentedcandleibex

Bai Wuhe @shadonut

Sienna @loverofthewindgod

Arutha @stillfuckinbetterthanyou

Lady Xuna @bisexualjohnnycage

Echo @roofgeese

Menace @bisexualjohnnycage

Zoe @zoetheneko

Mitsuko @saito-mitsuko

Arien @saito-mitsuko

Rebelius @scentedcandleibex

Dia @darialovesstuff

Jacquie Briggs

Takeda Takahashi

Kung Jin

Liu Kang

Kung Lao

Havik

Hotaru

Enemies:

Shang Tsung

Shao Kahn

The One Being

Kronika

Hanzo Hasashi

Neutral/Complicated:

Jax

D'vorah

Varian @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement

Kotal Kahn

Erron Black

Kano

Kollector

Kabal

Cetrion

Kuai Liang

Kenshi

Shao Kahn

Kronika

Nightwolf

Love interest

Quan Chi

Love Status

Lovers

Weapons ♔ Accessories

Varietyof cold iron weapons(created by herself)

A great axe

Spiky choker (gifted from Quan Chi)

Long, black overcoat

Fingerless gloves

Iron forearm guards (made by herself)

Powers:

-Beside conjuring up melee weapons in any shape and size (the bigger they are the more energy they consume from her), Ombra can do more things with her iron power.

-She's able to turn her body and/or limbs into iron, using them as shields and to increase her strength.

-Ombra can also manipulate heat and electricity to some extend since iron is an electrical and thermal conductor. But she can only do so with the help of this metal. For example, Raiden hits Ombra's metallic arm with an electrical ball or a lightning strike, but it doesn't do any damage, and she can harbor the electricity in her arm for a while, shooting it back at him.

-It's almost the same with heat. Liu Kang shoots a fireball at her, Ombra captures its heat with her hands/legs/weapons and uses it against him.

-She is also able to defend herself against earth powers. You can find ironstones in the soil, right? Ombra has control only over those parts. It sometimes may seem like she's manipulating the soil or the stones, but no she's just using the bits of iron in them.

Personality:

-Ombra is quiet and reserved most of the time; even around those she's close to. -She has respectful manners; even towards those she despises. -Is basically self-centered. -Can be easily annoyed; however, she's so patient, but not with children. -Is rebellious and stubborn, but is also mature and open minded. -Craves to be alone 90% of the time. -Has a clever sense of humor. -Can be a very good listener and a shoulder to cry on.

History

I decided to put the summary of my WIP here:

It's been several years since Ombra accepted this responsibility of protecting Metalrealm by joining its special forces; also known as the Ironheads. In order to put an end to Metalrealm's chaotic condition, Ombra has to find out what happened to Lord Falkus once he disappeared, and bring him back which leads her to unearth the mysteries about herself and this realm. Meanwhile she finds the headless body of her lover and swears to bring him back at all costs and take his revenge.

You'll read more in the upcoming series...

Template by dear @starneko123

[stewardsdaughter]

ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ, ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ. ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ, ᴀꜱ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ.

                                       Jeyne Poole written by Cassie for oathrp

º   .   ♔   ⸻   the  capital  of  king’s  landing  welcomes  JEYNE  of  HOUSE  POOLE,  the  LADY-IN-WAITING  of  SANSA STARK.  news  borne  by  a  raven  sends  word  that  she  bears  a  resemblance  to  ADELAIDE KANE.  the  TWENTY FOUR  year  old  CIS WOMAN  is  reputed  to  be  GENTLE  and  GENEROUS,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  turn  out  to  be  NAIVE  and  RECKLESS.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  HAIR BLACK AS CHARCOAL ; AN EMBROIDERY OF A RED ROSE ; A TALE OF A PRINCE AND A PRINCESS.  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  HOUSE STARK,  where  they  conspire  to  PROTECT HOUSE STARK’S INTERESTS.  but  in  the  end,  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.

[brokendove]

º   .   ♔   ⸻   the  capital  of  king’s  landing  welcomes  MARGAERY TYRELL  of  HOUSE  TYRELL,  the  LADY  of  HIGH GARDEN.  news  borne  by  a  raven  sends  word  that  she  bears  a  resemblance  to  MELIS SEZEN.  the  26  year  old  CIS FEMALE  is  reputed  to  be  BENEVOLENT  and  CAPTIVATING,  but  with  the  eyes  of  court  watching  their  every  move,  they  might  turn  out  to  be  SHREWD  and  RESTLESS.  when  songs  are  sung,  their  verses  speak  of  FIRE  BRAND  HAIR  TANGLED  IN  RIBBONS  OF  GOLD  AND  GREEN  ;  SHARP  THORNED  ROSES  THAT  NEVER  PIERCE  HER  SKIN  FOR  SHE  IS  THE  REASON  THEY  GROW  ;  DELICATE  LAUGHTER  THAT  INTOXICATES  THOSE  WHO  HEAR  IN  FASTER  THAN  THE  STRONGEST  DORNISH  WINE  whispers  throughout  the  seven  kingdoms  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  THE  HOUSE  TARGARYEN  and  POTENTIAL  RELATIONS  WITH  DORNE  where  they  conspire  to  KEEP  THE  REALMS  UNIFIED  FOR  THE  RETURN  OF  THE  TARGARYENS.  but  in  the  end  fealty  means  little  when  you  play  the  game  of  thrones.

biography + wanted plot points.

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔉𝔦𝔳𝔢 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, dead dove, incest, father/daughter incest, possessiveness, kissing, groping, thigh riding

Dawn does not break. A summer storm overtakes the early morning sky and overshadows the sun with pounding rain that comes down in sheets as lightning forks in the distance. Your chamber maids dress you warmly for even inside a chill is persisting along the stone corridors. 

Your father is nowhere to be found. Off with his fellow knights on a hunt, waylaid by the weather. That’s what the stable hand tells you as he points out the empty stall where your father’s steed usually rests. You frown out across the wide terrace as the maids usher you back inside. 

The day passes slowly, your ladies trying to distract you with music and sewing. One even whispers to you about the most recent gossip floating amongst the gentry. That your father has already chosen you a suitor— someone he was to announce after his hunt. 

“Is this so?” You murmur quietly, eyes seeking the window and yet only seeing the storm. 

She nods, threading her needle, “Yes, Princess. But tis only a rumor, just another tale to spread for those with too little responsibility.”

You smile at her, “I suppose that’s true enough.”

The talk turns to other things, letting you fall back into your thoughts. The book containing your mother’s story lies tucked against your side. Your grand plan of speaking to the King this morn dissipates like mist in the light. The day drags along and after supper, you visit her portrait hoping to glean more insight into this ghost. 

Refreshing her wilted lilies, as you have countless times before, makes your heart race with longing. Magic is all well and good but it seems to only have a place for you in the shadows of your heritage. Gifting her a single red rose, you place the thorny stem in the middle of the lilies and take your leave. Your ladies-in-waiting walk with you back to your chambers, bowing and bidding you a goodnight as you part from them at the door.

Once you’re completely alone, you light a candle and read over the words and secrets left behind in the diary until they swim across the page. You hear loud movement coming from beyond the door, leading you to creep across the cold floor to press an ear to the wood. The deep voice of your father can be heard but you are unable to parse what is being spoken. 

When you’re sure the hall is empty once more, you climb back into bed, hand reaching for the book you set aside. Eyes gaze unseeing upon the leather cover. The King has known everything all of this time and yet kept his distance. It hurts you. Makes you seek him out now regardless of the late hour, book in hand as you enter his rooms uninvited. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He’s seated in front of the fire, dressed down for the night in a simple tunic and breeches. His hair and clothing are soaked from the storm still raging outside. You suddenly realize you’re in your nightgown and how improper it was to walk through the castle in such undress as well as to be standing in the King’s antechamber. 

“Tell you what?” He tilts his head, eyes dark and heavy as they drag down your immodest shift—fists clenching where they lay against his thigh, “tell my precious little princess she holds magic in her blood?”

“Yes,” your voice turns pleading, “why hide from me what is my right?”

He shakes his head, “Twould do no good,” standing, he walks over to you, water dripping from his hair to the straight line of his nose, “would you have had me toss you off to that forest witch to be raised?”

Chills race down your back as he brushes stray hairs away from your face, “You are my daughter, my property... my responsibility.”

“You never cared before,” words burst from your lips like overripe fruit. “You paid me no mind until this summer, Father.”

“Because you look like her,” he growls, eyes flashing in the low light, “you could be her.”

He grasps your upper arm and walks you over in front of the looking glass; his free hand reaches up to cup your chin roughly, forcing you to gaze at the mirror image. You clench your eyes shut and he chuckles, a low mean sound, against your back. 

“Look, my naive daughter,” his calloused hands pinch into the skin of your jaw and you meet his eyes in the reflection, “you have given me a most precious gift— a second chance with my dear beloved.”

A gasp spills from your lips as the King lets go of your arm to cup your mound through your thin nightgown. 

“Have you been good while I’ve been away, Princess?” He murmurs against your ear, fingers rubbing slowly against the heat gathering at the apex of your thighs. 

“Yes, Father,” your brows pinch together, body leaning into his touch. 

“Good girl,” his thumb rubs across your bottom lip. 

That hot shivery feeling you sometimes get overtakes you, eyes darting to the King’s mouth. A yearning cavern opens in your chest, a hollow echo of loneliness making your lips part. It’s the same feeling that you had when he took it upon himself to confirm your purity, his mouth hot and wet upon your cunt. 

“You should check, Father,” the damning words whispered as if that would soften the indecent request. 

He presses his thumb past your lips, pushing against your tongue as you suckle the digit. 

“I should,” he rumbles, gaze hot on your mouth as he turns your head to the side, “just to be sure your chastity is in place.”

A chaste kiss is dropped to your mouth, fleeting like the brush of a butterfly's wings. Whining, you tilt your head further, bodily asking for more. He presses another kiss against your lips, so different from Lord Winters. Your father claims your mouth for his own. He makes you sigh and gasp against his lips as he tastes you deeply, tongue stroking alongside your own. 

Your legs nearly give out and he wraps his broad arms around you, holding you to his firm chest as he kisses you heatedly. Head fuzzy, you sink against him, letting the King kiss you senseless. Pulling away, he shushes your whining before tugging you to the armchair in front of the fireplace. 

Once he is seated, he pulls you into his lap, indecently straddling one of his legs as your gown shifts leaving your bare cunt to rest on his trouser clad thigh. He pets your sides, a strange little smile hovering over his lips.  

“I never thought I would have this again,” he murmurs, “come, kiss me again, my sweet daughter.”

You’re much too eager and uncouth, but he takes it in stride; slowing you down, guiding your lips and tongue until you’re moving in sync with him. It’s addicting, like eating sun warm strawberries from the garden. Forbidden but so so sweet. The juice sticky and syrup thick, filling your mouth with decadence. 

His sword calloused hands grip your hips, guiding you into a rocking motion that makes you bleat and moan against his lips. A rare warm chuckle from him makes your mind buzz. You follow his motions until he’s able to squeeze and pet your hips as you rock against his thigh. The sharp bolts of pleasure make you leak until his trousers are soaked, sticking to the soft lips of your cunt. 

“Want me to teach you?” He whispers hotly in your ear, “teach you all the ways to feel good, my precious princess.”

“Please, Father,” you mewl quietly, kissing him needily.  

“I’ll show you,” he promises, voice dark as his eyes, hands grasping your gown to delve underneath, fingers skimming across your bare hips, “teach you like I did her—such gorgeous witches I’ve owned.”

Thoughts too hazy to pay attention, you sigh and gasp when his hands drift under your nightgown to grasp your breasts, squeezing the soft fat with a groan. The King’s mouth drifts along your neck, lips soft as he kisses the sensitive skin. Chills race down your body, your mind a haze of wanton need. He kisses your breasts through the nightgown as he pinches your nipples. 

Whimpering at him, you tangle your fingers in his still damp hair. Your body is hurtling to that peak that whites out your thoughts, pleasure curling up like a sated cat in your stomach. The rough fabric of his trousers rub against your soft, wet heat as you rut back and forth on his thigh, making you moan softly. 

“My sweet witch,” he pulls away to gaze up at you in satisfaction, “my beloved made whole again.”

Bringing your face closer, he kisses you far sweeter than before. This surprising show of tender affection brings you to your climax. Your voice stutters out, a broken cry lost in his wet kisses. The fire in the hearth roars to life like dragon’s breath as glasses on the mantle shatter only to land as glittering diamonds on the floor. 

Your father chuckles warmly and it sends a frisson of heat pulsing at the apex of your thighs. 

“Such a gift, my precious princess,” he brushes his thumb across your swollen bottom lip.  

The expulsion of magic makes you tired. The King keeps you on his thigh, the rough material of his breeches bringing you to climax again and again as he kisses the moans from your mouth. Never pushing it further, he makes a promise to show you everything with each time you clench on nothing and cum on his lap. 

It’s cock crow when you finally pull away from your father’s embrace. Lips and cunt swollen from his rough touch and yet your body and heart ache for more. 

“I shall escort you to your room,” he helps you stand on trembling legs, wrapping one of his heavy riding cloaks around your body—his smoky scent surrounding you. “I’ll make sure you have the morning to yourself for resting.”

You hum, exhausted in more ways than one, and easily follow the King back to your room. As he tucks you into bed, you pout and grasp his shirt, seeking another kiss before you fall into slumber. 

“Sleep well, beloved,” he murmurs, kissing your temple before pulling away. 

Although you wouldn’t realize until too late, it’s the end of your old life. 

[viouez]

— 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛.

— last updated; O4/O5/2O22

— newest; Escort: Chapter One (Rewrite)

— fic playlists;coming soon.

all rights reserved © viouez | the reposting, modifying, and/or translating of any kind on any medium is allowed. the reposting, modifying, and translating of my work without explicit permission from me is technically a criminal act under the law but will not be dealt with legal action because i would enjoy my ideas to be distributed.

k e y — [ ♔ ] personal favorite   [ ♡ ] reader favorite

s e r i e s — [ ✓ ] complete   [ ✕ ] in progress

— s e r i e s  m a s t e r l i s t

—   escort | android!au | a, f, s |  — masterlist.  ✕ ↳ synopsis: Years after androids are destroyed for trying to rebel against humans, androids are hidden among them, hiding away from sight. Korea is covered in patrolling guards and disgusting humans who are all desperate to find themselves robots dressed as humans.

—  changes | mafia!au | a, f, s |  — masterlist.  ✕ ↳ synopsis: Being a concerned neighbor, when y/n is woken up by what she assumed was gunshots from next door at four in the morning, she called the police in genuine worry. Instead of the police showing up at her door, a male stands outside and oh, where’s his uniform? oh.. why does he have a gun?

— first snow | hybrid!au | a, f, s |  — masterlist.  ✕ ↳ synopsis: becoming the caregiver of seven hybrids seems like a dream, but the whispering and dirty looks from your coworkers turn it into a nightmare.

k i m  n a m j o o n ;

  — one more night | sugardaddy!au | a, f, s |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— love yourself | idol!au | a, f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon. 

k i m  s e o k j i n ;

 — i am a lady | blinddate!au | a, f |  — coming soon.    ↳ synopsis: coming soon.  

—  dont love me | chef!au | a, f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon. 

— the eyes of the innocent hold the most demons | detective!au | a |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

m i n  y o o n g i ; 

 — dont be shy | pothead!au | a, f, s |  — coming soon.    ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— thorns and roses | royal!au | a, f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon. 

— chasing colors | tattoo artist!au | a, f, s |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

j u n g  h o s e o k ;

 — diamonds and rubies| mafia!au | a, f, s |  — coming soon.  ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— praying for a sinner | demon!au | a |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon. 

— rose of fertility | newlyweds!au | a, f |  — coming soon.  ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

p a r k  j i m i n ;

 — seductive sounds | roommates!au | a, s |  — coming soon.    ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— white wine | mythological!au | a, f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.  

— fool in love | friends-to-lovers!au | f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

k i m  t a e h y u n g ;

 — storm of pain | idol!au | a |  — coming soon.   ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— cold and distant | badboy!au | a |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.  

— we were once in love | marriage!au | a, f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— severity | non-idol!au | a, f |  — read here. ↳ synopsis: murdering your dad will never go how it was panned. if it was even planned

j e o n  j u n g k o o k

 — malchance | non-idol!au | a |  — read here. ↳ synopsis: life thought jungkook needed some toughing up, but gave him something sweet after as an apology for its mistake.

— rock me | rockstar!au | a, f, s |  — coming soon.    ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— smiling with tears | roommates!au | a |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

— unbreak me | soulmate!au | a, f |  — coming soon. ↳ synopsis: coming soon.

[remedii-blog]

.full restore

@will-owisp​​ liked for a starter!!

♔ | Lady of the ROSE ; Breathing. A deep inhalation of breath, followed by an exhale. How similar did it sound to a sigh, however it was clearly not as such as a soft smile was displayed upon her features, not a single hint of the sort of emotion that would induce a sigh. Somehow, Jacqueline had managed to find her way to the Pokemon Center for those that wished to challenge the Elite Four, relieved to know that it was present in her current location. The thought of her healing her own pokemon did not crossed her mind in the slightest, wanting them to receive a full restoration of their health and energy. 

Her Dragalge on the other hand, had other plans-- he seemed fairly content with receiving care from her alone, emerging from his Pokeball and softly nuzzling her. His actions were easily understood by Jacqueline, to which she responded with a soft laugh and turned to face the dual type.  Fingertips gently brushed the Dragalge’s crest, soft words murmured by her along with the action. “ I want you to be fully healed. Go on, I’ll wait outside for the all of you. ” Head tilting forward in acceptance of her words, she took his Pokeball and withdrew him, placing the final Pokeball on the nurse’s tray to be brought for healing.

It had not been too long, but Jacqueline could not help but to already feel lonely without the presence of her Pokemon around her. Trips to the Pokemon Center were usually rather quick, seeing that they were brought in after her own care had been given to them-- it was one of the rare times that she did not do as such before bringing them here. To feel lonely so quickly, she must be quite used to their company for such to be the case. Hence, the deep breath taken as a small smile settled upon her lips, her gaze pointed toward where her Pokemon had been taken.

Regardless of her attention being elsewhere entirely, it was rather uncharacteristic of her to not be aware of her surroundings-- perhaps, it was due to her thinking as to whether she ought to help out in this Pokemon Center. Her reasoning loitered around the idea that she might regret her decision of applying for the position of an Elite, but deciding to help out at the center there instead would be rather.. rude, would it not? Quite rude, almost as though she was doing it out of spite. The line of thought continued as she sat by the available benches, waiting for her Pokemon to be returned to her.

[jeoseungsaja]

♔ ———–

A single yellow rose attached to a couple lilies of the valley. He ordered this online a few days ago, even closed his eyes as he hesitatingly clicked the ‘purchase’ button with bated breath. Perhaps, this is very simple for some, but for Hyuk it’s a significant gesture that doesn’t necessarily come out of him often; not being the type to engage in actions like these just because. Hell, it’s even odd that he remembered to do this days prior so the very small bouquet could arrive on time, at the date it’s supposed to get there, considering that the detective often forgets (due to heavy workload) what day is it or which world is he living in. 

But is it, really odd?  Perhaps not. Not really.  Not when you know who will be getting this arrangement of flowers. 

Something within him was itching to send it. He even called a flower shop located in London, where they told Hyuk that he could easily make his order through their web page --- which he did. He revised his order once, twice; more than five times before finally sending it away, calling the shop once more to make sure they indeed received it. They did. It’ll certainly get there on May 14th, sir, the courteous lady on the other line said, after spelling recipient’s address through the phone. 

He sees the calendar on his cellphone. May 14th.  He sighs. His breath comes out with a little tremble.

It’s done already, what else can he do? It’s not like he can lie and say he ordered them by mistake. Besides, he’s never been one to lie to his best friend. 

Yes, the yellow rose and lilies of the valley (requested to be put inside a slim, green-tinted vase) were sent Patrick’s way.

There’s a part of him that wishes Patrick never mentions the bouquet to him, just so he can get swallowed by Earth silently, just so he can perish of embarrassment by himself in the nearest corner. But there’s another part of him that’s awaiting a response, any response --- to know if he liked them, to know if they were a different addition to his desk that’s usually filled with papers to grade and books...just, a little change of pace, especially during these times where stress is at high due to semester’s near-end. 

He can’t even focus on the case he’s reading.  All he can think of is about what Patrick might think, and the array of reasons why he took the decision to send flowers his way. 

The fact that May 14th is Yellow Day (or Rose Day) in South Korea is a teeny tiny part of these reasons. But there’s also other moments which make Hyuk slowly realize that perhaps he’s not the only one dealing with the flutters. The wiping of crumbs with his fingers, the stuttering and bashfulness, the forehead kiss after battle wounds, the visit at the headquarters to gift handkerchief; the way his hand took his own with the request of helping with buttons. All of these moments, so utterly precious, so utterly engraved in his mind and heart --- an array of reasons to let Patrick know he’s still thinking about them, about him through the colored whispers of flowers. 

Oh, God. Maybe he just should’ve gotten yellow curry for lunch instead (isn’t that what singles tend to eat during Yellow Day? Something like that.). 

“Detective Lee, are you okay?”  “Huh? Uh, yes, I am.”  “Here’s what you requested.” “Thank you, leave it on the desk.”  “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not scolding me for bringing it after the accorded hour.” “Yah, I said I’m okay. But if you want to get scolded, I can start---”  “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just joking. Are you going somewhere?”  “I’m going out for a little bit. I’ll be back.” 

  Air. He just needs air. Some time to stretch up, since the wound on his ribs still feels uncomfortable when he sits down for far too long (the space is no longer heavily bruised, solely tender at this point --- bruised ribs take about a month or so to properly heal, but he has to admit Patrick’s care made the restore to health easier and better). And...well, just some time to distract himself from the thoughts swirling within. 

  Why is he so...agitated?    Someone would argue they’re just flowers.    Flowers. For a friend.    Right?    Calm down, Lee Hyuk.

   He just hopes Patrick doesn’t feel uncomfortable by it.     He hopes he likes them, with all and the silly note he sent. 

I couldn’t send this by through pigeon post, but I hope this still gets to you.  Just something to thank you for the handkerchief.  Remember to eat something (and no, tea doesn’t count).  Stay healthy.  Guess who? (this is an easy one, isn’t it? I’ll try harder next time)

———– ♔

@ofgentleresolve​ : HAPPY YELLOW DAY 💐, HYUK’S SHAKING WIEUDHWUDH

[discnchant]

enchantedss​:

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“Lark, not all women are from our family. As much as mother and I adore shiny things, different women have different tastes. Some women prefer books! As far as mother’s opinion, I think she is much better at determining these things than I am. I, myself, would be fine with any small trinket given in affection. Perhaps your wife would simply appreciate the gesture?” Lyra offered with a soft hum.

He knew things were not simple for either of them. Lark and Lyra were infinitely out of their depth when it came to relationships with women. She smiled when he tried to tease her however and reached out to squeeze his hand.

“Give her something, anything that calms her nerves. She is just as nervous as you are, Lark, I assure you of that, if not more so. She’s just as confused. Newlyweds are often that way. I think.”

She didn’t exactly know for certain, but it was a good enough yes.

Then Lark suggested a comb and Lyra lit up, clapping her hands excitedly. “Yes! yes a comb would be wonderful! Something for her hair, that makes her know you are thinking of her.”

“Speak with her?” she hummed gently, wringing her hands. “I suppose I could do such a thing. I admit I am a little nervous to speak so intimately with her. Sometimes I worry Lady Andersen doesn’t like me very much. I suppose that’s a silly thing to say.”

~ ♔ ~

Lark’s face blanched as his sister spoke, a new panic rising within him. He dropped the string of rubies he was admiring as her words settled in, bright blue eyes turning to meet with the nearly identical pair Lyra had. “…Gods, do you think she prefers books?” The reality was that Lark Andersen did not know his wife well enough to decipher her interests. If he had tried to think more, he may have conjured up the memory of the sewing box she had mentioned, how she spent a lot of time doing embroidery, but he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to recall. He was at a complete loss. “I hope you are correct and gesture will be enough,” he murmured as he resumed browsing the jewelry.

Her mention of his wife’s confusion and nerves caused Lark’s stomach to drop. Obviously Lyra did not know the more… Delicate details of his and Gwendolyn’s marriage. None outside of the couple were privy to the awkwardness shared between them where intimacy was concerned. Unless of course the lady chose to disclose such information to her lady’s maid. He prayed that wasn’t the case, it would make it far too awkward whenever he passed the woman in their household if that were the case. But even then it was not common knowledge how uncomfortable they were around each other. Yet it felt like Lyra knew, as if she had witnessed it first hand. Perhaps in a way she had — she knew the truth, after all. She knew what really happened between them was not love.

Despite the discomfort within him, Lark aimed a soft smile at his sister, barely bumping his arm against her shoulder. “You’re rather wise, you know,” he said with a light laugh. “And here I thought it was my job as the elder to give the good advice.”

His brows knit at her enthusiasm, expression painted in confusion. A comb? A comb?! He could not gift his bride, the new Viscountess of Atlantica, a comb. He thought it more appropriate a gift from a sister. But from a husband? He could hear the ladies of the ton gossiping about his skill as a gift giver, his wife maybe sharing with her closest friends her disappointment in such a choice. She was friends with the likes of Lady Rose, who he knew for sure would laugh at him.

“No, no, I meant for you to give her a comb.” He shook his head, “I am her wealthy lord husband, I should be giving her special trinkets she may show off… Such as this.” He pulled out a silver necklace from which a rather large sapphire pendant hung. “Blue is the Andersen color, I should think.” Blue like his eyes, or his noble uniform, the sea their family hailed from, a little nod towards himself. It was certainly less and less about the lady it seemed, but didn’t wives like little things that represented their spouses? Maybe, if they loved the spouse anyway.

“Why would she not like you, Lyra?” Lark couldn’t fathom the thought. How anyone could think poorly of his little Lyra, his dearest sister and closest friend, was beyond him. He knew he held a bias but he knew her better than anyone else, and adored her more than anyone else. He held her as the lady with the most regard in his life. Not even Gwendolyn, who was the picture perfect young lady of the ton, held a candle to Lyra in Lark’s eyes. Gwendolyn may be beautiful and accomplished and well mannered, but she was awful boring in comparison.

“No, I think she would like you a great deal should you two endeavor to get to know one another better. She is just… a difficult lady to read.” Which was true for him; he thought Gwendolyn perfect to a fault, as though she were always putting up a careful front. If she were more the giggling girl from the fountain, well…. He would like her a great deal more. “Your charisma and affection could bring her out of her shell in a way I could never,” he sighed.

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔖𝔦𝔵 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: MDNI, dead dove, incest, possessiveness, abuse of power, mentions of suicide, depictions of bodily harm, off screen death

The King sends out a courier to every neighboring kingdom before you rise from your bed the next day. Your chambermaids are all a flutter, whispering amongst themselves in hopes you won’t hear anything. 

It doesn’t take long for your ladies-in-waiting to gather you from your rooms to walk with you down to the great hall. One of them discretely tells you that your Father is summoning all the lower court today for an announcement. Nerves make your hands jittery, but you keep your composure and walk sedately with your ladies. The tryst between you and the King left no physical marks and yet your entire body bears the moment deep in its bones. 

The lower court members are seated and gossiping when you enter the room. Many of the lords give you dark looks with their wives and daughters looking upon you with undisguised pity. Their judging eyes are nothing new, but the room is filled with an unspoken tension. Skirts rustling, your group of ladies block you from view as best they can, ushering you to your chair. 

Seated in your usual spot near the head of the table, you try to parse what the gentry are muttering to themselves but without luck. It’s all for naught as the room falls silent once the King enters with a couple of his knights. His cold eyes scan the table, landing on you for half a beat too long before shifting away to finish his perusal. 

Feeling satisfied with what he finds, your Father makes his way to the head of the table. You squirm in your seat, body feeling hot under your gown at the remembrance of his touches from the night before. Heartbeat thundering loudly in your ears, you try your best to school your expression into a mildly pleasant facade. Once he reaches his chair, the knights flank either side, all three now facing the people gathered. 

“Today is a day for celebration,” the King announces, voice clearly ringing out into the hall. “I have decided upon who shall have my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Your eyes drop to the clenched fists in your lap. It’s not like you didn’t know this day would come, but the betrayal of the King choosing someone after what you have given him is breath stealing. 

“She shall wed me and rule at my side as the new Queen.”

Gasps are the only thing to break the stony silence, everyone’s eyes now falling on you while you gaze wide eyed up at the man who has become your betrothed. 

“My liege,” a lord at the end of the table nervously stands. “It against the law is it not? To wed with one of your own line?”

A few other men stand from their seats, chiming in with agreement, pointing out their fellow clergymen who nod along with their claims. 

“Tis not right,” a wizened man steps completely away from the table. “You’ll smite us all with your blasphemous ways. We tolerated your witch wife, absolved of that sin when she took her own life.”

Your head jerks in his direction, “My mother?”

“Aye, lass,” a sneer crosses his weather worn face. “She communed with a devil and earned her fate on those cliffs. She—“

“Enough,” the King cuts off the old man’s tirade. He snaps his fingers and one of the knights leaves his side to roughly grab onto the ranting lord’s arm. 

“I know what you are,” spittle flies from his lips. “Coveting her damns us all. The spawn of that heathen—“

The King nods and the knight grasps the jaw of the elderly lord. Squeezing tightly, he wrenches the old man’s mouth open, and pulls a small dagger from his side. With one quick slice, the lord’s tongue falls to the floor with a wet splat, blood bubbling from his mouth like water in a fountain. 

It feels like time slows to a crawl. The old man cups his mouth, trying to stop the flow of blood and yet it drips like rubies from his wrists. A few ladies scream, including his wife, while the other lords who stood in solidarity slowly take their seats. The knight marches the elderly lord out of the hall, his garbled cries growing fainter until they are heard no more. 

“I will take your concerns into consideration,” the King levels his cool gaze at every person of the lower court. “But it is my divine right to choose what I will. Any insubordination will be met with a swift rebuke.”

He claps his hands and servants flood the hall with platters of food. 

“Now, let us rejoice. Enjoy this bounty provided by your King.”

He sits down, the knight standing at his side shifting to stand guard at his back. You’re unable to look at him any longer, questions running rampant in your thoughts. The old man spoke of your mother in a way you’d never heard before. Glancing down the long table, you catch sight of the man’s wife. Her glassy eyes staring vacantly at the far wall as maids quickly clean the mess left behind by her husband. 

Avoiding your Father’s gaze, you force yourself to take bites off of the plate prepared for you. The jangling of armor pierces the quiet as the other knight returns, blood coating his chainmail. Your stomach roils at the knowledge of why. 

Faking illness comes easily enough; you truly are not feeling yourself— it’s easily believed by your ladies-in-waiting so the King dismisses you to your chambers. Surprisingly, he does nothing more than kiss your knuckles as he bids you farewell. 

Stepping out of the hall, you wave down a serving boy to summon the newly widowed lady to your rooms. She arrives looking frightened and reluctant. It takes all of your willpower to adhere to decorum and not demand answers outright like a brute. 

The tale she weaves is bitter and sad; of a new bride found in the forest; whispers of her witch blood and the blood thirsty king silencing those who oppose. She speaks in urgent stilted sentences, telling you of the sadness that draped the new Queen like a leaden cloak. That she had another love before the King coaxed her away. The sudden news of a child growing inside her, a gift of their joining. 

The old woman clasps your hands in hers, a tight grip that makes your knuckles hurt. 

“Your mother tried to leave and your father couldn’t be seen as weak. He followed her to the sea. She would not return, even for the babe she bore. The King would have taken her by force if she did not jump. Some say she melted into the sea foam and still haunts those cliffs.”

A lady-in-waiting rushes in with scared eyes, warning of the King’s departure from the Hall. 

You thank the woman and gift her a brooch for her trouble. She straightens up and gives you a solemn nod before leaving your chambers. The maids bustle around you, ushering you into a chair and stoking the fire. You avoid their presence, the thinly concealed pity coating their tongues. 

Once they leave, you find your mother’s journal and begin to reread the passages in a new light. Your mother knew she could not keep a journal secret from your father. All of her possessions were buried or burned in honor of her passing. Angry tears fill your eyes as you read over the description of her ancestors—your ancestors.  

From her writings, you now knew what it meant for her to give herself back to the sea. That old woman was right even if she did not know it; your mother melted into the foam like her mother before her and her mother before her. A note of longing and resentment that the forest witch could not do as such; that wood magic had its own rules that did not cede to the waves of her home. 

As the sun begins to set, a blistering determination blooms in your chest like a briar rose. You ready a small satchel of the items you think you’ll need: the little jewelry you own, your mother’s journal, the apples left near your table. Hiding it while you’re alone, you wait, and once the chambermaids ready you for bed and depart, you slip into the simplest dress you own and make your bid for freedom. 

You don’t have much of a plan, but you know that you cannot stay, not with these questions burning your mind. The forest witch is closest; hoping she yet still lives. 

It’s easier than you thought, making your way from your rooms to the edge of the garden in the dark. The guards patrol at intervals easily skirted around and the darkened forest beckons you into its shadowy arms. 

Taking a deep breath, you charge forward, hope a small flutter of wings. 

[lipglossanon]

♔ 𝔗𝔴𝔬 ♔

• A Dozen Roses • Fairy Tale AU •

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, minor character death, descriptions of blood and violence, stolen kisses

You’ve grown up your whole life hearing about your mother and father. Their kismet meeting in the forest. Her a poor woodcutter’s daughter and he a fresh faced prince lost on his way to the kingdom. 

It’s a fairy tale you’ve been told every night since you were a small girl. Your nursemaid would tuck you into bed and recount the miraculous connection made between your parents. And how you were the only thing missing in their perfect lives. She always smiled at you so sadly when she said that part. 

In actuality, your mother died during childbirth and your father is a cold distant man. He never turns you away if you seek him out, but his eyes ever drift like he’s looking for the ghost of his lost love. Her portrait hangs in every room, so it’s inevitable for her smiling face to be looking down on you. 

As you age, the whispers begin to grow louder. At first it’s a chambermaid you overhear murmuring to the cook about how much like your mother you begin to resemble. It seems to spread like wildfire and by the time your twentieth summer rolls around, you’ve made the rumors true as you are now the spitting image of the dead woman haunting every room. 

Your maids-in-waiting coo and coddle you every time they help you dress for the day; they titter and talk amongst themselves when the suitors begin to slowly trickle into the castle to meet the jewel of the King’s eye. Your father’s gaze no longer drifts but stays focused on you with unerring attention. He lets the suitors into the throne room, parading their talents and gifts to his dead eyes and cold face. You smile politely, seated next to him, and can see your father grip the throne so tight his knuckles blanch. 

No one meets his criteria. You are too special, too pure, too beautiful. You are too much of your mother for him to just give you away to a bumbling aristocratic fool. Questioning him only once on why the last Lord didn’t meet his standards, he stares at you for far longer than what’s comfortable before telling you that there’s a reason for his strictness.

There have been a few that caught his eye, but something in the way they look at you, like you are something they can covet, has the King dismissing them before they can offer anything other than their name and station. You are more than happy that your father is picky in regards to the more unsavory men who come to call. Only one, a King from a minor province, has tried to overstay his welcome. 

King Irons is a deceitful old man, an outlier from the generations before your father took the throne. He came to seek a betrothal but was easily dismissed by the King. He doesn’t handle it well and causes a scene in the throne room. The guards subdue him quite easily and escorted him from the castle. It’s only later when you are taking a turn in the garden, that he accosts you in front of your ladies-in-waiting. 

It’s the first time you’ve felt fear, an oily tar of feeling trying to blanket your thoughts as King Irons grabs your wrists tightly in his own sweaty hands. 

“You are to be my bride,” his piggy mouth dribbles— salivating at the thought of having you and your riches, “once we are wed, your father can do nothing.”

He sneers down at you as you kick and thrash in his hold, eyes darting around to see his own guard holding your servants hostage. 

“You will swing from the hangman’s noose by nightfall,” you spit in his face, trying and failing to pull your arms from his grasp. 

“No need to waste rope,” a somber voice cuts through the air and you sag in relief. 

“Father!” You wrench your hands one more time and they slip through King Irons gross sweaty palms easily. 

You gather your skirts and run over to his side, the other maidens quickly following behind as Irons’ guard drops to their knees. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t cut off your hands right this instant,” his cool attitude eases the fear back into a manageable state. 

“I-I shall make a formal apology in front of the court, your majesty,” the wretched man blubbers, face going red in anger and embarrassment, “I will take my leave and you’ll never see me again.”

“You’re right, after today, no one will see you again,” the King removes his sword from its sheath in one fluid movement and with a spray of blood, Iron’s severed head gapes up at you from the grass. 

Your ladies-in-waiting scream, with one fainting into another’s arms, as the intruder’s body collapses onto the ground a second later. Hand reaching out, you grasp onto your fathers cloak, eyes unable to look away from the dead man who had touched you only moments before.  

The King points his blade at the guardsmen, “Take the body and return home. Dispose of it if you wish or plan a burial, I care not which. I shan’t see anyone from your province here again or it will be a slow death.”

“Yes, my lord,” they say, voices shaking before rising up to carry the body back to Irons’ carriage.

Your father cleans his sword before sheathing it, half turning to face you. He frowns and rubs his knuckles across your cheek, pulling your attention away from the blood stained grass. 

“Prepare a bath for my daughter and burn these clothes,” he raises his voice to the servants behind you. 

Flustered, they bow and curtsy, quickly moving toward you. 

“I will see you at dinner,” his blue eyes are deep and unreadable as he pulls away and leaves the garden. 

In a daze, you follow the ladies as they guide you back to your room for a bath. A maid comes in to take away your dress, leaving another in its place. 

“Did you see the King?” a timid young woman whispers to another as they prepare the tub in front of the fire. 

“Of course I did,” she sighs exasperatedly, “he was standing right there, wasn’t he?”

“He smiled,” the other girl whispers but you still catch it, pretending to look out the window, “he smiled when he cut that vile man’s head clean off.”

Whatever the other servant says is lost as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, a mixture of feelings bubbling up in yourself. Once you climb into the metal tub, you rest in the warm water and parse through your thoughts. Relief and happiness are the strongest, followed by another you’ve never felt before. It’s darker and filled with a longing hunger for something. Pushing it from your mind, you finish bathing and let the maids help you dress.

The tangle of feelings makes itself known the next morning from the ivy climbing the trellis near your window. Your father has the royal gardeners in your quarters the next day to remove the strangely designed plant. As they cut away the stems, you catch a glimpse of the leaves and frown. They’re red— red as the blood that coated the grass in the garden. Except for that bloom of blue in the center. Reminiscent of your father’s eyes.

A fortnight later, the young Lord Winters enters your father’s domain in a bid to woo your hand in marriage. He’s sweet and kind, not bringing much in the way of a bride price, but you honestly could care less about how much gold is in his coffers. Your father watches as you hit it off and for once doesn’t say anything or send the young man away. Lord Winters stays at an estate near the castle and calls on you every day; he takes you for walks amongst the sprawling gardens (waited on by servants so you’re never truly alone). 

During one such occasion, the young Lord is able to sneak you away to the maze in the garden. There he steals your first kiss as the perfume of roses and jasmine floods your senses. You’re lighter than air once you make your way back to your ladies-in-waiting. Amidst the giggling and whispers, you feel a burgeoning hope swelling in your chest. Maybe this Lord is the one you’ve been waiting for this whole time.

Looking back you can think what a silly dream for a silly girl. The castle has all manners of eyes and ears, primed and ready to deliver news to the King.  There is never a secret he does not already know.