#AND force them both into unwanted and miserable marriages

[lady-corrine]

Viserys should have allowed Daemyra to get married from the moment Daemon asked for her hand and I'll forever die on this hill.

[glorianamultistan]

Repeated love (Baekhyun x Male Reader)

Part 2

Should there be a second chapter, when all has ended with the strokes of a few signatures? There are times when butterflies have left the cases of some lepidopterists and with winged effects brought tornados to register that they lived and still have enough life even though they glorify some shelves or walls from behind the glass.

It all comes down to a slip in the wrong room while trying to find a place to lie down. Baekhyun never thought that seeing y/n sitting all dolled up for the party would make him lose some balance of mind.

The next mistake was of y/n, running arms open to kissing his ex in a room where he spent the former night with his husband.

Neither of the two was going to take a chance like this, they were not allowed to, too much was at risk. Two well-publicised marriages establishing relationships between multiple elite families, and here still, with whispers and moans, y/n let it all go. Four months and the body breaks only for the one the heart accepts.

After the dilemma of not wanting to leave each other's warmth, both went their separate ways for the sake of the party.

The next few days were hard for y/n as he tried hard to face his husband calmly. He was not a bad man per se, he liked y/n and was respectful to him and his choices, it was just that he was not, for now, allowing y/n to go out alone.

"Y/n I just ask for a month, after that, you can go wherever you wish to, I promise complete freedom, not from marriage obviously as we are in it till the end."

"But why!? This is illegal! You can't possibly not let me go out. I have a life to live, and events to attend."

"Oh honey, you come from L/n family, you know how laws are for all of us, right? Now, be a good husband and wait for me, I will be back soon."

It was a forced hug and a close-lipped kiss, and with that, he left y/n in the study, miserable enough to cry a little before going to his room to get his phone and message.

'I am not allowed to go out hyung. All of them, even my parents are in this.'

'Baby, I will be meeting your husband today in a meeting; I will ask about you.'

'Hyung! Why will you do this!? Don't do anything rash like this.'

'Don't worry, I will ask as a person interested in knowing the new partner of their business partner.'

'Just don't let the mask fall, please.'

'Won't you pick it up if I do, like the last time?'

'If you put me in such a position then I will have to do it because I do not want the chances to end like this.'

Explicit extramarital affairs as a member of such a class would not only ruin the chances of future re-establishment of the name but it will once and for all make the life in the country end too. Even though Baekhyun has connections well enough that he can leave the country and still confirm an easy life for y/m and him, he still has to plan everything properly; after all his own husband should not get the idea of anything going on.

The days go on as slumbered heat makes them overlap for y/n; he talks to Baekhyun without any concerns about being surveilled as in the manor, he is promised by his husband that no such practices will be allowed.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, controls his urge to run and pick up y/n and lock themselves in a room to never leave the bed, by constantly reimagining the night of the reception party and keeping his husband satisfied too; a single doubt of unwanted physicality can lead to a lot of assumptions and Baekhyun already slipped once when his husband notices nail marks on his back after the party. That was settled with a few nights of unwavering reverence for the body which was bound to Baekhyun as forcefully as his separation from y/n happened.

After two months of extended restrictions, y/n was allowed to visit his friends, and the first thing he did after creating facades of three to four parties was to throw a party at the same hotel and invite Baekhyun and his husband to the event too. It was just a celebration of 'close families' younger generation' that meant some of the most celebrated faces present in a hall with drinks and airs about them.

Just as y/n excused himself to use his room, Baekhyun excused himself with a smile to go to the washroom which he did not know where it was, and y/n as the good host coyly took the precedence to guide him as he would be visiting the wing with rooms.

'Hey Baekhyun, you can just use our room; you can relax there a bit too and get to know y/n; you have been persistent in meeting him; till then, let me entertain your husband.' 'What do you say hun?' Y/n's husband asked him but the younger was not ready with any response to such a situation; it was like exquisite wine being served and you taste it through your lover's mouth.

So Baekhyun did reply with a laugh, a kiss on his husband's cheek, and a warning to not steal him which y/n's husband repeated too, and they left for the rooms.

P.S.:- If you liked it, you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

[deus-sema]

Aman, in KKHH, did not sacrifice anything. He does not need the excessive sympathy that's poured upon him.

He knew, from the get-go, that Anjali wasn't in love with him. Their marriage was arranged and Anjali had clearly stated to her mom that it was a compromise. The two of them might have settled down had Anjali and Rahul's paths not crossed again. Once it happened, and Anjali knew that Rahul returned her feelings, it would have been impossible for her to commit to Aman or anyone else for that matter.

By backing out of the wedding Aman did what any rational human being would, if they have a say in the matter. He did both Anjali and himself a favour by sparing them from an unwanted marriage that would have left them miserable. Then, just because he did not force her to marry him, it doesn't make him the ideal man. That was just the right thing to do.

Rahul is also not this terrible person revisionist takes surrounding the movie make him out to be. He was immature in the beginning and grew out of it later on. Like, nearly everyone else? He is also not to be blamed for not reciprocating Anjali's love for him during their college days. First of all, she never told him about her feelings. What was he supposed to do? Read her mind? Even if she had confessed, he was not obliged to return her feelings. Falling for Tina back then was not a mistake. Those who whine about Anjali being his "second" choice probably don't realise that many of us are someone's second or third or other choices or that many seldom end up with their first ones.

[mardereads19]

Why the mentality of “Lucien is Elain’s mate so she has to at least give him a chance” is so wrong:

(I had to rewrite all of this twice because my internet is a bitch and it didn’t save correctly in my drafts 😭)

1. Elain was human so the mating bond means nothing to her.

Elain as a human only knew one thing: love was the catalyst for marriage and family. Humans don’t mate between themselves, they follow their emotions and then wed. At least that was going to be the case with Elain. She was going to marry because of love (that is what she believed in). The mating bond was not something she lived by. It was/is not sacred to her as it is to the Fae, because for her it wasn’t even a thing.

Forcing Elain to abide by the mating bond is as messed up as forcing a religion on someone. In fact, in Acotar it is said that the humans used to pray to long lost gods. The cauldron (a god-like entity for the Fae) was not even known to Feyre (humans) until she sees that mural in Tamlin’s library. So saying that Elain should respect the mating bond created by the cauldron enough to “at least” give Lucien a chance, is like forcing her to believe in something she had never planned to believe in in the first place. The mating bond for her is a Fae thing and though she is Fae now, ACOMAF tells us that Feyre has a human heart. So do her sisters.

2. It disregards her choice.

Like I established earlier, Elain believed that love and emotions were the crucial factors leading to marriage and family, but now out of nowhere the thing that leads to that is “fate”/the cauldron. Not her love, not her choice. She used to be so sure of who she wanted to be with and that was enough. For human Elain having loved and chosen someone was enough. Now she is predestined to be with someone. It is not her choice anymore.

Human Elain had chosen her beloved already: Greysen. He was everything she wanted. Even after the whole cauldron episode, she still wanted and chose him:

Even months after the war, just as her feelings towards Azriel began to become something other than friendly (in Acofas is when we first start seeing Elain get self-conscious and swallow nervously in his presence) Elain still loved Greysen and hoped to be with him:

She did not want a male, period, but she did not want the mating bond because it took away her choice of wanting Greysen. She also was still holding on to the hope of going back to being human (where perhaps that mating bond would have ceased to exist):

It was not Elain’s choice to become immortal and ethereally beautiful and to gain a mate. She was forced into these things and Lucien as her mate is simply a harsh reminder of this. For Elucien to work, it has to be her choice. She was robbed of it. In fact, let’s read the heartbreaking words Nesta herself said in Acosf:

Well, well, well... What an interesting choice (lol) of words. Nesta herself felt like she was losing part of who she was in accepting the mating bond. What makes Nessian different is the fact that Nesta chose Cassian before knowing he was her mate. She chose him for love. Would the story be any different if she had known before? I think it would. We read the argument that went down between them in Velaris and saw how she called in the bargain to get time to think things through before completely she obliterated Cassian with hate words. However, she already loved him, so she could move past it. Perhaps if she hadn’t loved him already, she would still be drinking and having seggs with strangers to push yet another unwanted truth into oblivion.

Feyssand was kind of similar. First, Feyre assimilated into Fae culture rather quickly and she loved Rhys before our King, the Suriel, spilled the tea. 

Neither of these sisters were surprised with a mate as soon as they turned.

Even now, the bond puts a stop on Elain choosing Azriel, which is something that she must overcome if Elriel is endgame as I strongly believe it will. Saying “Lucien is her mate so she must give him a chance” means it is not her choice to give him a chance. Let it be her choice. Let it be because she wants to.

3. Lucien does not know Elain.

Before you come at me with the “she doesn’t give him the time of day to know her,” let me tell you this: Azriel began to know and see Elain during the time when she was in a trance, the same time Lucien could have learned to see her as Az did. In fact, Lucien had a moment with her in the private library of the HoW, but he did not know how to help her. Listening (and not just to her speaking, but really listening and being open to let her know he cares what she says) would have been enough. The main difference between Lucien and Azriel is this: Lucien knew she needed help, Azriel helped her. An example of how Lucien doesn’t know her, but Azriel does is illustrated in the gifts each of the mates males give her and her reaction to them (I couldn’t add the gloves one, but you know that one by now):

4. Doing it for his happiness might promote her misery. 

The worst thing is reading “I want Lucien to be happy, so Elain should at least give him a chance.” What about her? Will she be happy in doing so? I am always grateful when I stumble upon an Elucien shipper who wants both of them to be happy. These people are real shippers and I celebrate them 😊. The ones who only care for him, not so much 😑. If she is miserable in the relationship, he is bound to notice and be miserable, too, at one point or another.

5. She is NOT interested.

Listen, Elain is simply not interested in Lucien. She has demonstrated that time and time again. Should a girl always have to have a reason to not entertain a boy’s affection? Can’t a girl simply say “no, thank you” because she wants to? In real life that is okay, but in Prythian it isn’t because they are mates and she needs a reason? Chile anyways, so…

Let’s pretend Eris was all nice and none morally-gray, and Morrigan turns out to be Eris’ mate. Are y’all going to be all like “she should give him a chance because they are mates”? No, because she is NOT romantically inclined towards males. Then the point stands. Because Mor is not interested romantically in males, she should not be upheld to giving Eris a chance. Since Elain is not romantically interested in Lucien, she should not be upheld to give him a chance. “But he is her mate...” 🙄😒 Let her do what she wants, jeez.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate Lucien whatsoever, I actually love his character, but these are some reasons why I hate the argument of “they are mates she should give him a chance.” I think that mentality is not okay. Literally. *feminism has left the chat*

[unreachedgalaxy]

in defense of malina

Out of the three potential relationships for Alina (the Darkling, Nikolai and Mal), she and Mal are the most boring at first glance. Despite being the canon romance, it’s the least popular in fandom spaces. However, it was actually the best and most in-character choice for Alina to have ended up with Mal.

Nikolai and Alina never had any real romantic potential - they’re good friends and I don’t think there’s much subtext to indicate that they actually have deeper feelings for one another. However, it would have been an interesting plot twist to have Alina marry Nikolai for political gain. It would have been entirely for the plot, though - in terms of character development, marrying Nikolai would be wildly out of character for Alina, whose driving motivation is to stop being a pawn. It would, admittedly, have been in character for Nikolai, but frankly he deserves the development that would come from falling for someone (....Zoya) who doesn’t fit into his constant political maneuverings.

That being said, I COULD see an unwanted marriage to Nikolai being the absolute last straw for Alina, causing her to lose it and run away to join the Darkling. This would be an excellent plotline for a canon divergence Dark!Alina AU. The possibility, however, would not fit in to the established plotline for the books.

Darklina, however has a dynamic appeal and Leigh Bardugo emphasises the deep connection between them. This connection is emphasized enough that I could 100% imagine an world where Alina, utterly miserable in the Little Palace, runs away, turns evil and joins the Darkling. The Darkling and the Sun Summoner then rule the world together in absolute domination. Bardugo sets up this eventuality well enough that the reader is genuinely considering it as a possibility. Darklina, on paper, has everything - enemies-to-lovers, the stunning sun/shadow dichotomy and undeniable tension. It’s appealing. I agree. But, quite frankly, half the series would have to be rewritten in order for their relationship to be even somewhat feasible and un-abusive. The way the series is, Darklina does not make sense.

Finally, Alina and Mal. Alina and Mal are the endgame couple, despite being somewhat bland in comparison and relatively unpopular in the fandom. However, choosing Mal is entirely true to Alina’s character. Alina dislikes being the “Chosen One”. She loves her powers, but is not truly happy in Os Alta, never enjoying the attention and worship bestowed on her. She’s lonely and miserable practically the entire time. The political ramifications of being the Sun Summoner go against everything in Alina’s personality. She hates politics, she hates farces. Her sudden power-hungriness after gaining the second amplifier terrifies her.

This also exemplifies the central conflict in Siege and Storm - Alina the person vs Alina the Sun Summoner. When Mal leaves Alina halfway through the book, her sadness is not only because she lost her best friend – it’s because she lost the only person who sees her as Alina Starkov, not Sankta Alina the Sun Summoner.

Mal is the person who grounds Alina, lets her remember who she is underneath the silk and the gold and the titles. Her heart breaks when he refers to her as moi soverenyi, because he’s the one person who she thought would never see her as the soverenyi, but just as Alina.

Choosing Mal, fighting for Mal, is Alina choosing herself over her powers, her titles. It’s an act of rebellion, rejecting society and every expectation forced upon her.

I think that many readers - including myself - find this aspect of Alina’s personality somewhat unrelatable. If we were in Alina’s position, we’d run away with the snarky, charming prince or the suave villain who is quite literally her other half. We’d choose the archetypes of the golden prince or the dark villain over the relatively boring childhood best friend, who has nothing obviously special about him. Both other options have more glitz and glamour, more romance. They’re appealing, on the surface – but Mal was the perfect choice for Alina.

[geraltcirilla]

I’m mad about how Angel of Darkness ended.

I absolutely, thoroughly hate the "my fiance who makes me miserable is pregnant so I am trapped in a loveless marriage for the sake of my child" trope. It’s a weak plot device used to keep two other characters apart, or to keep one character miserable.

What was the entire point of the John and Sara romance in season 2 if they were simply going to be faithful to the books in the end? None of this romance even happened in the books. So the writers of the show were completely fine with creating their own story and their own path with the characters until it actually came time to commit. I feel my time was wasted and I’m angry.

They even bothered to confirm that what John wanted was not to have a traditional nuclear family and lifestyle... it was to be with Sara, whatever that entailed. He even came to the realization he was raised and conditioned to want a marriage and children because of societal standards. And they went and gave Sara a false sense of hope that she could be with John without fear of him rejecting her for her lifestyle. What was the point of all these realizations? I’m so, so frustrated. I cannot believe they got Sara’s hopes up like that only to crush them. They should have just kept this all platonic.

I will loathe if in season 3 Violet tragically dies leaving John a widow so he can be reunited with Sara. The writers had their chance and they lost it. They fucked up. Now it’s too late. What I hate more than the “unexpected pregnancy forces unwanted marriage” trope is the “kill off the romantic rival to free the love interest” trope. So they better fucking not.

I was actually enjoying season 2 until they pulled this shit. I feel like the rug has been pulled from underneath me. I would have been okay with this if John and Sara’s relationship remained platonic, but it didn’t, and they were both given certain hopes and expectations that they were then robbed off.

Fuck this.

[bottleofspilledink]

God's Watching, Put on a Show || Chapter X

The obvious absence of an unfaithful spouse filled the air with tension. Eve knew better than to speak unprompted when her mother had a wineglass next to her, the beautifully decorated dining room silent save for the sound of slicing and silverware.

"How was school, dear?" Her mother finally said, the dear chocked and forced, teeth gritted.

She wasn't drunk. No, not yet.

She was angry.

Eve just then noticed the various envelopes under the wineglass' stand. Bank statements. They weren't poor, mind you. The Peccators were middle class. (They could even be considered upper-middle class depending on who you asked.) They had enough money to send Eve to a private school, own a house, a car, and even go on a vacation once a year; that wasn't going to be changing anytime soon, either.

But she knew of her father's vices, his penchant for extravagant watches and suits, his liking for younger, more lively women.

No, they weren't having financial problems, far from it, Eve knew, but she did suspect that her father had once again spoiled his mistress, more likely than not going on another spending spree with his credit card, the "business trip" he had been on for the past four days a complete fabrication.

"It was good, mama. Thank you for asking," Eve spoke slowly and clearly, making sure to call the woman in front of her by her preferred variation of mother, hoping it would calm her down like it did when she was a child.

If only things were as easy as they had been.

"How's Mary? Elizabeth?"

As she grew older, the list of friends her mother approved of grew smaller and smaller to the point she knew all of Eve's companions by name. That said, she wouldn't appreciate that the few friends she'd let the girl keep were now gossiping, dating, - and, God forbid - fornicating.

"They're doing good, mama. Still very nice."

Her mother emptied her glass of wine, pouring more in not a second after she placed it on the table once more.

"Good to hear. I recall the school saying no one was injured in the fire, but I wanted to check in anyway." She ran a hand through her blonde hair, sighing when some broke and stayed tangled between her fingers, downing her wine when her eyes fell upon their graying roots.

Eve had to stop herself from flinching when her mother slammed the wine bottle down, enraged by the fact it dare be empty when she needed it.

"Be a dear and get mama another bottle from the kitchen, Eve." She drawled, toeing the line between tipsy and drunk. "From the top right corner of the wine rack."

"Yes, mama." Eve nearly tripped over her own feet in all her rush.

Her mother was already aggravated and she daren't make it worse by taking too long for the woman's liking.

She took the bottle her mother requested, eyes skimming over the label reflexively.

A nineteen-ninety Madeira. One of the most alcoholic wines in the house.

She sprinted back to the table, hesitant to hand the bottle over, yet putting it down by her mother anyway. How she detested what her mother would become when she drank, an imposter, a cruel stranger in the body of the usually well-meaning woman she was.

And yet, did she not always hate her mother?

Not as strongly as she hated the woman in this state, but hate nonetheless.

Her mind echoed with the sixth commandment once more, but it was so hard to listen to.

She knew her parents gave her life and a roof over her head and the clothes on her back, but, as kind as they could be, were they worthy of being honoured?

This woman was the reason she had only two friends, the reason she was so sheltered and clueless, restricting what she could watch, not even wanting her to read more than what was required of her, the reason she couldn't garden, more concerned of her child's future husband, of her child's hands growing calloused, than of her child's happiness. And yet, even like this, she knew her mother had her best interests at heart. The two decades they had been married warping her mind into believing in a harmful mentality, blaming herself for her husband's unfaithfulness, making herself think that if she raised her daughter to be the perfect wife, she'd be able to give her what she never had: a happy, successful marriage.

Her father was the reason her mother was like this in the first place. They married too young They hardly knew themselves, much less each other, unable to differentiate love from attraction from infatuation. And he simply fell out of love. He stayed, however, unwilling to bite the bullet and divorce her while he could. Instead, he lied. He cheated. His infidelity turning what had been a kind and jovial woman with a bright future in front of her into a miserable, alcoholic housewife who only stayed with him due to her devoutly catholic beliefs.

They made her miserable.

They made each other miserable, committing a plethora of other sins in order to avoid one.

Ah, the joys of married life.

Eve ate her dinner hurriedly, getting up to take her used dishes to the sink.

"I'm going up, mama. I need to study for an English test."

That was a lie.

She just didn't want to stay long enough to see her mother smash a plate.

"Come here, dear, before you go." Her mother put down the wine glass and smiled a weary smile, a hint of the person she was all those years ago coming back, if for a moment, a flash, a mere glimpse into the past she longed to return to. "I want to see you."

Eve stepped closer, slow, unsteady. That smile, one she so often saw ages ago, told her that she was safe. But the alcohol not even a ruler's length away from her mother's hand made her wary nonetheless.

Her hand went to cup Eve's cheek with a familial tenderness she hadn't felt in so long.

"You look just like me, when I was your age. You're beautiful, Eve."

Eve could feel her eyes tearing up, practically melting into the touch. Maybe there was still hope for the both of them; a chance to be happy together. With some effort they could salvage what they had, the good parts, and make new, better memories.

"Mama, I lo-"

That feeling was shattered with her mother's next words.

"If you take good care of yourself, you'll get a better husband than me and you'll live a better life."

Agony.

The sharp, painful agony that was all her hope being crushed hit her like a freight train, knocking the wind from her chest, tears of joy that had just been forming turning to tears of sorrow.

"You can do that for your mama, can't you, Eve?"

Her mother's hand never changed it's grip, but it felt harsher, threatening in a way she couldn't pinpoint, and she saw, in this moment, that all remnants of the woman she once loved, the woman she had happily called mother, was now dead and gone, perhaps it had been for a while now, perhaps, like what she did with so many things in her life, she refused to accept the truth til it stood in front of her and was unequivocally undeniable.

"Answer me, Eve."

"Yes, mama. I can do that."

Her mother gave a soft pat to her cheek with the kind of endearment you'd see a proud owner give a well-trained pet.

"Good girl."

Eve left, not even trying to muster enough energy to bid her mother good night, just placing her dishes in the sink and rushing upstairs.

Did she really not see this coming? After all the ways her mother has restricted her, has disappointed her, has put the happiness of her future husband, was this not to be expected?

Barely a minute after she closed her bedroom door, the sound of plates hitting the ground reached her ears. Her father's "business trip" was to finish today, the man to arrive sometime in the night.

There wouldn't be a fight. The time her mother cared enough to get angry had passed. Instead, there would be silent sobs, long phone calls to friends who couldn't help, and her mother's ever constant companion: alcohol.

She plopped down in her bed, laying atop the sheets, wallowing in her hatred for her mother, her guilt for disobeying her, and the general misery that plagued her.

The dim, yellowish light of the antique lamp that rested on her crowded bed side table bathed the room with a soft, almost romantic glow. She felt too sluggish to do anymore than pull the covers over her, leaving her mind with nothing to do other than ponder the day's events.

It came to her in vivid, unwanted flashes as she tried to force herself to sleep before her father came home.

The weight of the pen in her hand, the pen she had used when ignoring her mother's orders.

The feeling of the paper between her fingers, the words she wrote a testament to her disobedience, to her sin.

Lilith's coaxing voice, smooth and melodious, guiding her softly, not an ounce of force behind it.

Lilith's teasing smirk, the devious glint in her blue eyes, all for her.

Going further back, Lilith's concern.

How she always asked before doing something she knew Eve wouldn't normally allow, even when she herself asked for it.

Her hands.

Her fingertips running across her lower lip, gone the moment it came, a ghost of a touch, so fleeting, yet it was burned into her mind.

The gentle way she unbuttoned her blouse, hands trembling and hesitant, but moving forward at her command, more careful than she had ever seen her before.

And how could she forget how tenderly Lilith held and cradled her hands, the warmth radiating from her soft palm, the girl's long, lithe fingers tangling with her own.

The way Lilith made her feel...

Eve wasn't a fool. She was a liar.

She noticed the familiar ache that would settle in her chest whenever Lilith touched her, whenever Lilith talked to her, whenever she thought of her.

She knew how her cheeks would flush, how her body would grow warm at some of the things Lilith would do.

She knew that -- after everything that had happened today -- that she couldn't deny it any longer.

Like so many things, the truth was staring her in the face.

She was... like Lilith.

But, perhaps more importantly, she liked Lilith.

The numbness of earlier had long faded, giving way to a new wave of anxiety, a new wave of guilt.

It built up inside her before reaching a violent crescendo, tears spilling from her eyes like a dam burst open, an onslaught of practically every negative human emotion hitting her like a freight train. Fear and anxiety and grief and guilt plagued her, body merely a cauldron full of the foul, bubbling liquid that was all this.

Guilt was the most tangible of them all. It was definite, an ever-looming presence in her mind.

It seeped into every crack and crevice of her being, even when she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Simply resting and eating and being born was a sin, passed down from generation to generation with only the hope of salvation through the veneration of an unjust God.

She was doing something wrong, though.

Eve was committing the sin of being herself, the sin of personhood, of not basing all that she was around God, of being human, inherently sinful and flawed.

Eve was committing the sin of being like Lilith.

And she felt guilty for it.

She felt guilty for disobeying her God, her mother, their teachings. Eve wasn’t the daughter her mother prayed for and she never would be. She would lie and garden and think thoughts she shouldn’t think and disobey and be like Lilith.

Even if she lied, even if she denied herself further, even if she married a man and had sex with him and bore him children, deep down, she would always be like Lilith, she would always like Lilith.

There was nothing in this world that could change that, though.

No prayer or potion or pill would stop her from loving women, from loving Lilith.

At a loss, she wailed into her pillow, nothing more than a scared child hiding from a monster in the closet that just so happened to be her. Clutching at her rosary, she knelt on her bed, using her headboard as a makeshift pew, barely able to see the crucifix on her wall through the tears but knowing it was there.

It felt like it would always be there.

Whether as a reminder or a taunt or another source of anguish. It would forever hover over her bed, linger in the back of her mind, simply be there.

That knowledge burdened her with an immense fear. That fear burdened her with an immense guilt. She shouldn’t be afraid of her God but she was. And only bad people were afraid of God to the extent she feared Him.

The rest of her night was spent forcing prayers out through her sobs –  each word near-unintelligible and incoherent – while her mind flashed with images of her soul burning, images of a greater, yet to come agony.

...

The food was abundant, decor extravagant and expensive. In the centre of the table, next to the mashed potatoes, was a garish, blue vase filled with flowers grandmother was fond of. The table itself had been covered with an off-white cloth, intricate lace running down across it, the legs uncovered to brag about the fine carvings and expert craftsmanship it took to make said carvings. (And, on another level, to brag about how much it all cost to have it custom made.)

Lilith lived what most would consider a live of luxury. While she was no spoiled brat, waited on hand and foot, her needs were provided for and with all the wealth available to them, she would want for nothing.

Except freedom.

And comfort.

And a family that would love her, unconditionally.

Yes, her room was large, bed soft, sheets of fine silk, pillows fluffed with feathers. But it wasn't hers, devoid of all personality, not so much as a poster on the wall, resembling a hotel room than something belonging to a teenage girl. How could she ever decorate the space that was to be hers when it was constantly intruded upon, everything inside searched and scrutinized, threatening to reveal her?

Yes, her school was expensive and prestigious, it's halls were nowhere near as full as a public school's, neither were the classrooms. They had a gym, a pool, a library, even a damn audio-visual room, even. But the education itself was subpar. Had someone even tried to take a look what they were teaching, the denial of evolution and dinosaurs, the mixing of real historical events with ones from the bible, the outright lies during what little sexual education they had, the school would lose all it's prestige, being no more than a glorified Sunday school.

Yes, the house she lived in was grand, beautiful, safe, locks on every door and window, the best security cameras money could get at the time guarding their gates, but she herself, couldn't be further from it. One word from anyone and she'd be out on the streets or worse.

And what use was wealth, what use was all this, without comfort? True comfort. The comfort that could only have if you were secure in your knowledge that you were loved and cared for, no matter who you were; the sense of belonging that you were supposed to feel when with your family.

Try as she might, it was something she would never feel.

Not here. Not with these people.

She pulled herself deeper and deeper into her thoughts, anger and a sorrow that was almost constant nowadays came to the forefront of her mind, though her this was soon interrupted by her grandfather's booming voice.

"Pass the gravy over, girl."

She slid it over to him, cursing inside, everything cloudy with animosity.

It was building up, slowly, constantly rising whenever they spoke to her, at her. She found that even the sound of it irritated her, the two of them speaking to each other within earshot grating on her already exasperated nerves.

Lilith knew better than to voice all this, however, certain she'd get far more than a slap on the wrist for disrespect, directed towards the head of the household, no less, so she held her tongue. Restraint had been a skill well-practiced til ten days ago, the cork preventing her visceral rage from seeping out finally popping off the bottle in a moment of impulsivity.

Thus, the fire.

Her unwillingness to speak went unnoticed when her grandfather finally stopped talking to eat, her grandmother turning to her instead for conversation.

"How was school, Lilith?"

"It was fine," She said, bland and practiced.

It was, in fact, not fine.

She couldn't remember the last time anything had truly been fine.

Practically everything at school was the opposite of fine. The staff, the students, the system.

Eve just had what she assumed to be a mental breakdown. Paula was cramming for tests that had yet to be announced, knowing she'd need as many grants and scholarships as she could get if she wanted to go to college. Joan and Julia slaved away at a convenience store, saving as much as they could to be able to cover at least some of the rent, hoping to land a sports scholarship. She and Colette, meanwhile, were sure to be on their best behaviour, both relying on a trust fund, most of the plan resting on their shoulder.

Speaking of, though...

"I'm done eating, may I please leave the table?" She said, putting her utensils down noiselessly so as not to be scolded. "I have a lot of homework due in the next few days."

"You're excused," The gruff voice of her grandfather replied, wiping at the corners of his mouth, clearly irritated by the fact he had to stop eating to respond despite being the one who told her to always ask before leaving instead of just getting up and going.

Lilith rushed to her room, trying her best not to seem too eager about "homework" as she went. Immediately, she fluffed some pillows and shoved them under her blanket, pressing in certain spots to create a rough amalgamation of what should look like her sleeping on her side.

One of the oldest tricks in the book, yes, but one that had yet to fail her.

She was shuffling now, the floorboards of her room the loudest in the house. They probably chose this room for her intentionally, wanting to track her, trap her.

They wouldn't be able to.

Not today.

Off came her cardigan, the skirt that reached her knees. On came some jeans, a red and white windbreaker, and a cap.

Lilith moved over to her window and slung a pair of sneakers on her shoulder, climbing down from her room via the tree she planted by it under the guise of wanting to care for the environment.

Branch on hand. Branch on foot. Repeat.

Thrill welled up in her chest when her feet hit the ground, euphoria flooding her senses at the temporary freedom she granted herself.

Just a few more months in this town.

Just a few more months til they would all run away.

Just a few more months til the freedom lasted forever.

______________________________

Taglist: @anon-nom-nom95 @leahstypewriter @madame-ree @melpomenismask @littlemisscalamity @phillyinthebathroom @gaypeaches @extrabitterbrain @pirateofblood @i-wanna-be-a-rock

[kadeu]

Accepted — Han Cassius

♦️    Cassius Han looks like Bang Chan (straykids)  ♦️    He was born October 23, 1997; making him 23 years old ♦️    This Human is Bisexual and a Six of Diamonds  ♦️    He is a croupier (dealer) at the Koromo in the Circle

Biography

tw: child abandonment

All tales begin knowing that one day they must eventually end. Some tales speak of heroic adventures and battles hard fought between dragons and foes, while other tales are nothing but steeled resignation to a life lived mundane until the pages finally close shut. Cas’ story is like that. It’s not yet over, but he knows that by the end nothing will have changed, and he’ll be just as insignificant as when he was first born.

In October of 1997, Cassius Han is born into the Diamond faction a mundane lowranking human, not an ounce of magic-wielding ability in his blood. From the best of his knowledge, he is descended from nothing but generations upon generations of lowborn and low ranked humans, barely a blip in the periphery of Kadeu’s recorded history. His existence is almost pointless really, but that’s not a fact he learns until far later.

At the beginning, Cas knows nothing but love and warmth. Knows what it must feel like to fly as his father hoists a young Cas up onto his shoulders after the brightness of day has faded into the darkness of night. His father tells Cas to look up at the stars and reach for the ones that shine the brightest, laughing as he watches his son’s tiny hands eagerly grasp for the constellations dotting the sky. Cassius also knows what it must feel like to believe you’re the centre of the universe, important beyond belief as his mother wipes away stray hairs from his face and kisses his forehead every night before bed. She whispers sweet nothings of fairy-tale dreams set in some reality far far away, making Cas feel as if every fantasy he’s ever imagined is conceivable.

As a child, Cas knows nothing of the limitations that face humans in this realm, knows only that should he wish upon the stars hard enough, there is nothing he cannot achieve.  

However, all picture-perfect storybooks must come to an end, and eventually Cassius’ does too.

After several weeks of uncharacteristic distance between the boy and his father, Cassius’ world shifts in the span of one night, tilting the axis which Cassius had so peacefully spun around until that very point in time. It happens when his mother isn’t home. His father sits Cassius at the table, a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder when he asks what Cassius’ dreams are and then proceeds to dismantle every last one of them until there’s not a star in the sky that Cassius thinks is attainable. Because Cas is, “just a human, an insignificant human – irrelevant to the gods and the stars up above”.

(It’s the last thing that Cassius hears from his father before the man disappears).

And just like that, the storybook begins to crumble.

The façade that Cassius’ mother built following his father’s departure doesn’t last long, and soon enough she’s shattered beyond repair; the proverbial cracks near the corners of her mouth far too severe even to support the smallest of encouraging smiles. Without warning, on a warm summer’s day, the pair move across town to a grand household where Cassius’ life becomes not his own but another’s. Here, he addresses the master of the house as “Sir”, and Sir addresses Cassius as something closer to “Cashius”, never bothering with the correct pronunciation.

Retrospectively, little Cassius should have anticipated the later fall of his mother. She becomes increasingly distant, the room they reside in gradually becoming so devoid of speech the air inside feels as frigid as a crypt. When he’s thirteen, she leaves. Or, well, she’s kicked out, waifish frame disappearing into the inky darkness of a winter’s night while Sir mutters something under his breath along the lines of “good riddance”.

She never even says goodbye.

At some point thereafter, Sir seemingly takes Cassius under his wing, sitting him down at the table nightly and teaching him card games; reminding Cassius that he ought to be thankful the man is teaching him such an important skill when his mother had squandered the “kindness” that Sir had bestowed upon them both. (It’s not until he’s grown does Cassius understand the weight of those tiny pills his mother took every day). There’s a specific sheen to the man’s eyes that tells Cassius the man sees him as nothing more than a charity case, a simple way to self-aggrandise when he gathers his friends on the weekends and tells them the heroic tale of how he’s taken it upon himself to care for this poor orphaned magicless human.

And Cassius abhors the flagrant ego-stroking masquerade of the entire “kindness”, but he yearns for knowledge and the unspoken promise of escape more than he desires to shove the man’s words back down his throat. So he fashions his very own façade instead. Cassius smiles and praises the man, tells him just how terribly kind and brilliantly intelligent he is, thanking him as a grateful puppy would upon receiving an unwarranted treat.

The act does not fail to reap its own rewards.  

A “charitable benefactor” to the end, the man leverages what connections he has and eventually finds Cassius a position working at the Circle, setting the boy free from his service once he has worked his way up to the position of a card dealer. It’s a conflicting feeling, to resent the man for his unabashed self-serving pity, yet inexplicably grateful for the luck he’s found himself inheriting as a result of their unbalanced relationship. But in the end, it doesn’t matter how Cassius feels about it all. His façade is well built, and he provides the man with endless words of praise and thanks for all that he has done for him, because even as a free man, that is their relationship: one of serf and lord.

Fast forward a few years and at the end of it all, this is the man that Cassius has become:

Now a six of diamonds, Cassius works as a croupier at the Koromo. Skilled at small talk, flashing a charming smile, and mesmerising cardistry to impress the table should they ask, perhaps his unwanted connection had provided him the opportunity, but skill alone had earned Cassius his position and he’s proud of that fact. It’s a good position for a human, he’s protected while he’s on the job and that’s more than most professions care to offer. Sure, other casinos that cater to a far more limited audience might be considered “better”, but Cassius is more than happy to avoid exclusively serving the upper echelons of society in favour of including individuals closer in rank to him. Those whose futures are not so disparate from his own.

Others might wonder, or even anticipate the great potential their future might hold, so assured that the future ahead is bright, but Cassius is well-aware he’s reached his peak in society. Face the facts: most humans are serfs, the lucky ones work in lowranking job positions, and the rest are forced into arranged marriages and used as tools to produce offspring. (The unluckiest ones live their lives as pets, something Cassius finds unfathomably degrading). There isn’t much to be excited about as a human in Kadeu. Yes, blessed with his father’s words that incessantly remind him just how insignificant he and his dreams are, Cassius lives life as a pessimist, unable to even hope for more. His mother’s descent and society itself only serves to reaffirm this engraved schema, Cassius morbidly confident that one day he too will fall and end up just as miserable as his parents.

Indeed, as a human, where was there to go in society but down? Sure, other dealers from the heart faction were a rank higher than he was, but Cassius would never rise higher than that, would never be a face card because who in their right mind would readily accept a human in a position of that much power?  There isn’t really any place left for Cassius to go up, so that leaves down as the final option, a fact which Cassius is well-aware of.

However, in private Cassius is a secret dreamer. Sometimes he catches himself wishing for more than he can ever have, wishing that where he is now wasn’t the peak of his life, but rather the beginning of something grand like in the stories he was told as a child. Cassius tries not to let these thoughts slip out, they’re dreams of futures he will never have, and wanting what you cannot have will lead you to nothing but unhappiness. Dreams, no matter how you look at it, are poison. You swallow just a drop, and that one drop multiplies over and over until you’re drowning in your own delusions of a life you can never achieve. They’re insidious, but Cassius can’t truthfully claim to have vanquished them all.

When it comes to matters of society and politics, it’s practically in Cassius’ job description to outwardly ignore the tension between factions, as individuals from any faction may be his customer. Behind closed doors however, Cassius tends to watch from afar with amused fascination, knowing full-well that he’ll never have much of a say in it all, and that it’s easier to simply accept what will happen, will happen. He sees political ongoings more as uncontrollable events, almost like the weather.

Despite his prominent position as a croupier, for the most part Cassius tries to keep to himself and remain unnoticed by those around him. In his experience, attention seeds trouble, and trouble is the last thing that Cas wants to find himself in. Existing as a human without magic in a place clearly not meant for him places Cas and his rank (which is relatively high for humans) in a precarious position, wherein it probably wouldn’t take much more than a minor infraction to send him toppling back to the bottom. So rather than placing himself in situations where he might be forced to bite the hand that feeds him (or rather, the hand that he simply exists within the grasp of), Cassius prefers to avoid attention all together.

In line with his trouble-avoidant nature, although Cassius may agree with some of the resistance’s values, he doesn’t want anything to do with them and the chaos they might bring. However, at the same time Cas isn’t going to go out of his way to actively oppose the resistance. Surviving as a human in society is already difficult as it is, so he’d rather avoid getting on the bad side of the resistance, essentially an understated fifth faction. In a similar manner, although he does not openly display any aversion to higher ranked individuals, Cas is admittedly more reluctant to befriend highrankers; painfully cognisant of the fact that they hold too much power, and he, too little. (Not to mention highranker’s politics. Terribly messy).

Personality

A croupier (dealer) at the Koromo located in Heart territory’s casinos, Cassius (or, Cas) is proficient in card tricks and skills, willing to show off his cardistry for those who ask nicely. Catch him on the job and you’ll find him nothing but cordial regardless of your rank or faction, a trait that extends to outside encounters. As a non-magic imbued lowranking human, he figures this is the highest in society’s ranking he will probably ever go, and he’s determined to keep his position for as long as he can. To Cassius, this equates to being as amiable as possible to avoid provoking a powerful party. This easy-to-get-along-with façade extends to strangers across all factions and ranks as Cassius recognises the immediate threat that highrankers (from any faction) might pose, and likewise, the potential threat that midrankers and lowrankers could pose should they one day outrank him. Indeed, upon first meeting Cassius may be kind, but rarely is his initial kindness genuine. In fact, seldom is the Cassius you first meet as a stranger anywhere near a genuine representation of him as a person.

(His unspoken opinion of highrankers? “I may be a miserable human, but at least my ego isn’t inflated beyond repair”)

As opposed to his external behaviour, from a shallow standpoint, internally Cassius is ambivalent to those of his own faction, finding many of them rather arrogant but otherwise tolerable. With those from the Hearts faction, he approaches them with a degree of caution, knowing that he can have a good time with a Heart, but never should he trust them near his coins. Cassius holds a neutral indifference towards Spades, simply finding them a little too high-strung for his taste. Concerning Clubs, although knowing that he is unlikely to be physically involved with any of them, Cassius finds himself subtly wary of members from the faction, well-aware of the high mortality humans face there.

Generally, Cassius carries an assured air of confidence with him despite his almost crippling pessimism that has him convinced there is nowhere left for him to go in the future but down. (Although, perhaps he is not as pessimism as he presents himself to be, spending a surprising amount of energy arduously trying to extinguish his own hopes and dreams rather than risk nurturing them). Touting about his own well-built façade, Cassius is perceptive, quick to anticipate what others want to hear from him and providing them with just that while keeping his own true opinions and thoughts locked away. However, that doesn’t mean he’s above sneaking a few underhanded comments in here and there, you might find yourself looking back at a previous interaction with him and realising that a compliment he paid you was significantly more affronting than you realized.

Despite providing an ingenuine kindness to strangers, he does have moments of true kindness with the few trustworthy people he calls friends, willing to do just about anything for those he genuinely cares about. That isn’t to say his friends are treated to kindness alone. Cas rarely sugar-coats his opinions when he’s with people he trusts, highly valuing blunt truth when so much of his public persona is a façade. Further, some may find themselves pleasantly surprised to unearth a rather playful version of Cas once they become closer, the croupier enjoying his fair share of teasing banter when comfortable. (Occasionally, those close to the croupier might even witness Cas when he’s flustered, ears tinted red and palms raised to hide his “unbecoming expression”. Testimony has it that the entire thing is rather endearing and almost… cute?)

Congratulations Chun your app has been accepted and your first plot drop will be sent to you soon.

Please follow and welcome @croupiex to Kadeu!

[justadram]

A terrible song

[part two] [part one]

Summary: Jaime x Sansa on the eve of the battle for the dawn. An AU where Jaime arrives in Winterfell, previously having been married to Sansa instead of her being married to Tyrion.

...

Theon’s chin lifts to spy something over Sansa’s shoulder, straightening up as he squints into the darkness. The slight movement of his body puts a small distance between them, whereas they had been bent, heads close together, awaiting the end of all things. It’s the smallest of distances, but one she instantly resents. An almost overwhelming feeling hollows her out at the realization that she would pull him back in close if she could do so unobserved. Her hands fist in her lap, until her nails dig into the flesh.

Things might have turned out differently between them if there was more time. As it is, these few hours are all they have left.

Precious time someone has disturbed. She twists around to see who it is, and though the guttering torches provide the barest of light to cut through the claustrophobic murk, she can make him out: tall, broad with muscle, hair golden, but grey now at the temples, a grey that catches the low light just as well. The halo of the closest torch throws his face into relief as he cocks his head at the pair of them. He’s wearing a grimace, and she has no doubt that it is his glare that forces Theon to his feet. But she won’t stand for anyone making Theon feel unwanted, when he is.

She blindly extends her hand to stop Theon with a grip of his wrist. “Sit back down,” she says without looking away from the interloper.

Theon hesitates to follow her command; a vacillation that leaves him awkwardly bent at the waist somewhere between sitting down and standing to excuse himself.

“Pardon me. Do I interrupt a private moment, my lady?”

The lilt of Jaime’s voice narrows her eyes. “Yes, clearly.”

Her curtness is not enough to scare him away, however. She knew it wouldn’t be. He’s carelessly, stupidly stubborn, born of a lifetime of being too certain of his ability to fight his way out of whatever bad situation he’s stumbled into.

“Did you need something, ser?”

“I do in fact.”

She gives Theon’s wrist a tug, and he finally eases back into his place beside her. She bestows on him a soft smile: it’s as much for him as it is for Jaime Lannister’s benefit. The manipulation is petty, perhaps, but it serves him right for marching over here, spoiling her contentment.

Her smile broadens at Theon’s stiff shoulders and how his brows reach for his hairline, when she settles her hand on his knee.

Her attention swings back to the man throwing a shadow over them both. “Yes, what is it?”

His mouth purses, as his chest rises slowly on a purposeful inhale. “I require reassurance.”

“On what count?”

“Your safety.”

“That presents something of a difficulty, as none of us will be safe. Have we not already decided as much, ser?”

His boots scuff the stone floor, as he moves to stand feet astride next to her, his good hand on his hip. “Humor me with a little prudence. You’ll be safest in the crypts. You agree, don’t you, Greyjoy?”

His own desperate stab at manipulation.

Theon doesn’t venture to speak, but the sidelong look he gives her feels like a minor betrayal. He’s not allowed to side with her former husband. Sansa pulls back her hand.

Next he’ll have Jon up here, trying to order her about.

“I will stay where the people of the North can see me and take heart in my presence.”

“What comfort do you think they’ll gain from watching your pretty chest skewered atop the battlement?”

“I wear a breastplate.”

“Sansa,” Theon says, low enough that it could be a plea and not an order.

Either way, the two men are of one mind. She rolls her eyes.

Dying doesn’t sound pleasant, but then, she only wants to do the right thing. She wants to do what her lady mother would have done at a time like this. Or her father.

“Think of the women,” Theon continues. “They’ll be in the crypt, and they will need you.”

“Not all of the women will be hiding,” she argues, pulling her hands in closer to her middle.

Not Brienne. Or her sister. Not fierce little Lyanna Mormont. Or Daenerys atop her giant dragon.

“Oh very good, you and Brienne of Tarth then will protect the gate.” Jaime nods. “Can you lift a sword?”

“I have a knife if it comes to that.”

“Pray it won’t.”

Theon repeats his raspy plea, just her name and a shake of his head, and she replaces her hand on his knee to gently shush him.

Jaime’s gaze follows her movement, his jaw tensing. “See reason or I’ll haul you down there myself. Throw you right over my shoulder like a sack of grain. You wouldn’t like that.”

He sounds eager enough at the prospect that she suspects he’d do it.

“How gallant.”

Theon's lips part, as if to warn Jaime away from such an action, which only makes Jaime’s head tilt down in unconcealed mirth.

“Come now, don’t force Greyjoy here to come to your aid. We’re not supposed to be fighting among ourselves.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she says tightly.

“Good, you’ll swear it? My brother will benefit from your pleasant companionship as much as the women, you know.”

She looks from the stones beneath his feet up into his smirking face. It doesn’t reach his eyes: all this teasing is forced and fake. His eyes are painfully sharp with seriousness, the whites shot through with red.

Other people’s pain still finds its way into Sansa’s breast, urging her to acts of kindness. A concession to his wishes might be the wisest move. It also might be a kindness.

“I swear it.”

“Once the dead are upon us, you ought to lead a prayer. For all of us.”

That he’s playing a part even now, while the world hangs in the balance, is a pathetic kind of comedy, she has no desire to watch play out. She can be herself here alone with Theon. Who has Jaime to be himself with here? There’s only ever been one answer, and he left his twin. For her. Or his honor.

“You think the gods will listen?” she asks, straightening her skirts as she stands.

“No. Almost assuredly not.”

“Then my pious efforts will be as useless as you claim your martial ones will be.”

“I don’t like to think of my former wife showing me up, you understand.”

Theon schools his gaze to the floor, when she reaches up to brush at Jaime’s shoulder, as if to remove some perceived impurity. There probably will be no chance to tidy him into a semblance of his former self, despite her girlish notions to the contrary.

His figure is not so shabby in spite of it.

She pauses to commit him to memory. Like this. Not as he was when first she saw him in Winterfell at the king’s pleasure, not on their wedding day, when she could hardly make her feet move down the aisle of the sept and he looked nearly as miserable. Just like this, standing before her of his own volition.

“Fight bravely, ser.”

His smile falters, as his brows draw together. It’s too serious a look with the downturn of his mouth matching the sad severity of his green eyes. It harbingers things she can’t bear to hear. If he means to speak on things she hasn’t the strength to shoulder, she’ll be forced to take Theon by the hand and abandon the sanctuary of their quiet corner.

“Don’t die here. Do you understand?”

Yes, she understands. He’s advising flight if there is still some chance of it, should the battle go as badly as most of them fear. She doesn’t wager it will be possible. Every horse has a rider intended for battle.

“I shall do my best.”

“For the future of House Stark of course.”

As focused as she has been on preserving the North’s independence, she has given precious little thought to the future and Bran’s inability to produce an heir. That responsibility will necessarily fall to either her or Arya. Jon is a Stark, but his queen is not. Nor does Sansa have much hope for Daenerys’ security of the North’s freedom, which makes any child of theirs a threat. There’s Alys Karstark, but the Karstarks are a cadet line separated from her house too many generations ago for Sansa to feel satisfied with that solution. Never mind that Alys also might die tonight.

No, if they survive, Sansa will need to consider marriage again. Her stomach swoops. An odd thing to realize, while standing before the best of her former husbands, the one who seems so determined for her to live.

“Yes, you being so fond of my house.”

“Always. Or at least of its lady.”

A pretty lie. Jaime is capable of those—pretty lies from a handsome face. Sometimes he believes them too.

She presses her hand to his cheek. Once she would have had to stand on her toes to do so, but she’s not the little girl he once wed against his wishes. Her thumb arches over his cheek.

“They might not be listening, but I’ll pray for you nonetheless, ser.”

If he must die, let him die wrapped in whatever lies that might warm him. Some truths are too unkind.

[the-angry-tired-lesbian-bitch]

Ok so I have an idea for a story/fairy tale

PSA: This is very reminiscent of Cinderella and I was tired when I wrote it

Ok so, there are two girls, let's call them violet and daisy.

Daisy is bisexual, and "open" about it, in the sense that her parents know and she makes no real attempt to hide it. However her parents don't accept her and thus treating her like a slave and pretending that she doesn't exist. But she does have a friend who acts as her sort of fairy god mother in this situation, his name is Greg because why the hell not.

Violet is a lesbian but is 1200000 coats deep in the closet. She is also the princess of the kingdom they all live in. Since she obviously can't marry a girl, she frequently disguises herself and visits what is basically the kingdoms version of a gay bar, where she has met daisy several times but they never really exchanged names, due to violet fear of being outed and shunned.

Anyway on to the story.

The king decides that they should hold a ball for violet in an attempt to find her a suitable husband, but he poses this as a birthday party for violets little sister, Rosa, to the queen, Rosa and violet. Now the queen and violet are very close and the queen would not approve of marrying violet off. So the king invites the rest of the kingdom.

Daisy and Greg hear about this and are really excited. They get all the stuff they need, suit or dress you can decide, but Daisy's parents, the bastards, find a binding spell, or something like that, to make sure that she, or perhaps someone else, would not be able to leave the house. They would check on her every night at exactly midnight to make sure she wasn't off doing something scandalous.

Daisy is devastated but determined to go to that fuckin ball, so she and Greg come up with this plan. Greg takes daisy's place so that the binding spell would effect him instead, because he knows what she goes through on a day to day basis and honestly? She deserves a fucking break from the ugly ass homophobes that are her parents!

So she goes and has and absolute ball ( I am so sorry I saw an opportunity and I took it). Violet however is having an awful and confusing time ( and like girl same, like in life generally) because this is her little sisters birthday party but her dad keeps intruding her to these weird old dudes, and finally (I love this girl but she's a bit of a dumbass) it clicks and she realises her dad is trying to marry her off. Horrified that she would be betrayed in this way by her own dad, she runs away ,like the gay dramatic bitch she is, to the library, because it's kinda her happy place. (If it isn't obvious enough, violet is based off me, I'm the gay dramatic bitch)

Cue our wonderful bisexual

Being the amazing gal she is, Daisy follows her to the library, to make sure she is ok. Now at this point they kinda recognise each other but don't know from where ( Daisy is also a dumb ass and doesn't realise that she is the princess either) so they get to talking and slowly realise that they know each other from the bear in the woods ( that's the gay bar btw I could think of a better name) they spend hours in the library, just talking, and getting to know each other, hands almost touching because there useless wlw. But it gets to like 11:45 and Daisy has to run home. BUT unlike Cinderella, they plan to meet the next day in the town AND daisy give Violet a quick cheek kiss ( violet dissolves into gay panic and again girl same).

Daisy makes it home just in time, not only not getting caught, but in a fucking euphoric state, because she . Met. A. Pretty. Girl. And. They. Have. A . Date. Tomorrow!

Half way through that date, Daisy realises that she is on a date with the fucking heir the the throne. She nearly freaks out but violet pulls her into an alley and explains everything to her, and says that she would understand if she never wants to see her again. Daisy kisses her and says that it changes nothing and they'll just have to be very careful. They have their first and second kiss in that alley

They begin a secret relationship, because they would be shunned from society and violet would be disowned by her dad.

This goes well.

Until it doesn't.

One of the weird old dudes, lets call him Chad because it's the douchest name I can think of (no offense to the chads out there who aren't douches) from the ball sees them kissing and realise the truth. He tells violets family, in an attempt to gain there favour and marry the princess himself. However he makes a big mistake. He only tells the queen because the king has a reputation for being unreasonable and killing the messenger .

Since the queen is the only good parent in this story, she talks to violet, trying to see if it's true. When confronted about it, violet breaks down in tears, saying how it is true and it isn't a phase and she's in love, begging her mother to still love he, which of course she does. But she does tell her that her life is going to be dangerous and she might not be able to protect Daisy. Because when it comes to it, a mob is a mob and no crown is going to protect you from that.

However Chad, the mother fucker, realises that the queen is a good person and instead goes to the king. He somehow manages to convince the king that violet is going through a phase and he is the best person to bring her our of it into the blissful world of heterosexuality (that was sarcasm btw)

When violet goes to her room, she finds her father sitting on her bed. He basically explains to her that she is going to marry Chad, and tell her mother that she wants to and that everything was just a phase. Or he will have Daisy killed. At this point violet is passed questioning her father mortality, and believe him when he says he will kill her.

She breaks up with Daisy, saying how it was doomed to begin with and they were dumb to think it could work in the first place and ends things with her. Both of them leave crying.

Daisy drinks at the bear in the woods questioning whether she is capable of being loved. That's when our friends, Rosa and Greg enter. (Both of them are ace aro. Why you ask? Because I said so) They are the only people in the kingdoms with more then 5 braincells each, so they put two and two together and figured out that violet and Daisy are in love with each other ( their relationship kinda just started with them bitching to each other about how dumb violet and Daisy are, but at this point there really close).

Daisy breaks down and tells them every. There are a lot of tears and a lot of beer. However, Rosa finally manages to get out that, violet does actually love her and that her dad is forcing her into the wedding.

*this scene honestly just reminds me of the princess bride*

Violet is getting ready for her wedding to Chad of douche land, when Daisy knocks on her window (she on like the second floor btw, so daisy is fuckin ripped) Daisy gives this big speech to violet about how she's the best thing that's ever happened to her, how she doesn't need anything else apart from her and how she's willing to risk her life if it means being with her. Violet loves the idea, but knows that they can't stay in the kingdom.

They are faced with a choice. Stay and be miserable or leave and be happy. It was an easy choice.

They run away from the castle, violet still in her wedding dress, to an Abandoned cottage in the forest. However, violet does leave a note for her mother, basically saying that she's safe, with daisy and happy. In the note she also explains what her father said to her about killing daisy.

The queen is destroyed that her daughter had to leave but is ultimately happy that she is not being forced into an unwanted marriage.

She also fuckin pissed at the king.

Fast forward about 2 years

Rosa and Greg are the reigning king and queen (they got married but as friends) because the king died. (The queen killed him the night violet ran away and framed Chad. What can I say, she's a bad bitch)

Suddenly, all 3 of them are told to go to the bear in the woods and not tell anyone. They all go because it was either that or suffering through a memorial for the king and honestly, possible death was better then that.

However, instead of the cold hands of death, they are greeted by violet and daisy. They're both a bit worse for wear physically, but they're happier then Rosa, Greg and the queen have ever seen them. (This isn't important but daisy is butching it up. Like loose white button up under a vest butch and short hair. Also violet has that "oh my god I like girls" hair. You know, the shortish hair that ends half way down the neck. So yeah daisy is super butch and violet is cute as shit)

Daisy and violet break the news that they are going to get married!! And while it will be in secret, in there little cottage in the forest, they want the 3 people they love most to be there.

They all show up, daisy is in the same outfit, but you know classier, and violet is in a lovely dress with a bouquet of violets and daisies. Why, because I said so.

Greg is daisies best man, Rosa is Violets maid of honour (they both walk them down the isle) and the queen conducts the ceremony. It's all happy and gay.

The newly weds have their first dance, and even though they were away from where they lived all there lives, they've never felt more at home.

The end

(please tell me your opinions, improvements casting and things like that in the comments, because I really enjoy reading them)

Also @miss-yiay what do ya think?

[ironforgedrp]

♛  RHAENA LANNISTER

↳ details; female, 27 (born during the sixth moon of the year 478) ↳ status; bisexual, married, mother to prince aemos lannister ↳ faceclaim; emilia clarke ↳ hails from; king’s landing, the crownlands ↳ loyalty; house targaryen, the iron throne

↳ official title; queen rhaena lannister, queen of the andals, the rhoynar, and the first men, lady of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm. ↳ unofficial title/s; the dragon queen, the silver dragon, queen of the united kingdoms & the iron throne.

↳ religion; faith of the seven ↳ magical ability; dragon dreams ↳ spoken languages; the common tongue, fluent in high & low valyrian and close to fluent in dothraki ↳ reason for being in sunspear; to join the summit in her own right and in support of her husband

♛ PERSONALITY

↳ type; protagonist (enfj-t) ↳ alignment; chaotic good ↳ star sign; cancer ↳ positives; passionate, charismatic, kindhearted, dutiful, protective ↳ negatives; capricious, emotional, fiery temper, pensive, vigilant

♛ BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage.

rhaena was born in king’s landing king maegor and queen victaria, the youngest and only daughter to join the targaryen royal family, sister to the older prince baelor who would one day become king baelor, the third of his name. she had a happy childhood in the capital, one with barely any worries and endless days of being spoiled rotten which only fuelled her already hot temper. despite it, she grew up knowing her role in life, accepting that it was all set in stone for her and that a good marriage was her future. her brother would become king after her father’s death and she would likely wed one of the prospective great lords to strengthen an alliance. in addition to learning to master the traditional duties of a princess and lady, she was also schooled in diplomacy to prepare for her future as the key to an important alliance as well as studying languages. both were requests she proposed herself as she was inspired by the work of her father. she admired his diplomacy, skills and ideas. rhaena grew up idolising her father and brother, she did their bidding without much questioning, although she did have her own opinions about certain things and these were always encouraged by her father. rhaena was the ideal little princess, dutiful, easy to love and eager to please.

not long after her first moonblood, something started to happen to the young woman. she suffered from terrible nightmares that left her terrified and shaken. most of her dreams involved dragons, but they were always falling from great heights, crashing into the ground with such a force it left the whole ground shaking from the impact. these dreams seemed too real for comfort and left her restless, so much so that she started struggling with insomnia as she was afraid to close her eyes and invite the nightmare in. it took a long time before she was told of the nature of dragon dreams and its link with house targaryen. rhaena was upset when she learned her mother had forbidden anyone from teaching her about dragon dreams and the power of them - even though her mother had only forbidden it in order to shield rhaena from the worry such an ability would bring. the princess did indeed start to worry as her dreams could not possibly bode well for house targaryen, that it might be a sign of madness.

although encouraged to travel and see more of the realm, rhaena rarely left king’s landing as she always felt uneasy leaving her home behind. but she dreamed endlessly about the places she had been taught about. the north and its untamed beauty, highgarden with its sweet perfume of roses, both places she had wanted to go as a child. yet she was afraid that if she left king’s landing then somehow house targaryen would fall, that those dreams she had would come true and the dragons would be no more. instead of combatting her fears, she stayed put where she had grown up and tried to enjoy life the same way she had as a child, but the innocence and naivety of the past were long gone.

during her teenage years, she met falhar fanghorn whose father was close to her own and they eventually became more than best friends. they asked the late king to give his blessing for them to wed, but he was hesitant as he felt rhaena could make a better match to a future great lord. however, king maegor did not wish to see his daughter miserable, so he promised her that if she had not found another match by twenty-five, she could marry falhar.

all of that changed with her brother’s unexpected suicide, an apparent consequence of targaryen madness, which led to rhaena’s world crumbling around her. suddenly the planned life she had grown to completely accept disappeared, those dreams of dragons falling from mighty heights that had haunted her for so long came true. she was meant to be the king’s sister, nothing more than that, and she had accepted that fact a long time ago. she suddenly had to adjust to being the heir herself while dealing with her own grief and had to quickly marry in order to keep the peace in the realm which led to her unwanted marriage to arryk lannister, the eldest son of tristifer lannister, the ruling lord of casterly rock. before speaking her vows, her father declared arryk would become the ruling king and she was to be only his wife, the mother of a royal lannister heir.

for a long while, she accepted the power of the realm formally shifting to another house as her house had cast itself from power as a consequence of her brother’s refusal of the throne, she was clever enough to understand that. unlike her brother, she did her duty and married to protect the realm from being torn apart by uprising and war. but during her pregnancy, she started having doubts about the future of the crown, of what name the heirs to come should bear. despite her initial silent acceptance, she still felt very much like a targaryen, she’d much rather wear embroidered dragons than lions on her fine dresses. after all, her husband was only king because of their marriage. had she refused the union the way to the throne for house lannister would have been riddled with war and destruction instead, and victory would never have been a guarantee. as time passed, this became harder for rhaena to accept and it made her feel torn between the house she married into and her house of birth. she had hoped her child would bring her a peace of mind, but once he was brought into the world, she only felt even more divided than before as her son with silver hair and soft features looked the part of a targaryen.

to celebrate the birth of their son and heir, the king and queen invited the nobles of the realm to king’s landing. rhaena worked tirelessly to get their keep, meals and the chambers ready for all the guests. it all went fine for a couple of days, but then trouble with the dothraki meant rhaena had to ride out to their camp and negotiate with them, she succeeded though not without getting hurt in the process. after her blow to the head, she only began having more dragon dreams and becoming more of an insomniac. when the kidnappings began, she was still suffering from the effects of her head wound, but found no time to deal with it as nobles disappeared and kingdoms turned their back on the iron throne, which enraged the queen and brought out that fiery temper, she believed had disappeared with age.

after that, the kidnappings happened to her friends, family and people who had worked with her. the pain of not knowing whether they were alive or dead changed her, she became more ruthless, more convinced the traitors would start a war, not now but in the future, when her son would be the one to deal with it. and then the barrowton starks took her son. despite the fact, aemos survived the ordeal and she did not have to sacrifice her title for his safety, she has been left with deep wounds. she was still licking those wounds when finally all their guests left. she became calmer as she was left alone with her family, although she could be found yearning for the new friends she had made, particularly lord mormont who she formed a strong bond with, but healing slowly began and her wounds turned to scars. unfortunately, these scars were ripped open in the last moon of 505 when she suffered an early miscarriage. she had been traumatised enough to convince herself that she wanted no more children, afraid they would be stolen too and she would have to suffer once more, but once she found out she was with child, she felt nothing but joy. all of that was taken away in an instant as she woke up with blood staining her bed. she locked herself away for a while and only perked up when aemos’ first nameday rolled around soon after.

despite still trying to come to terms with all the horrors she suffered through in the year of 505, she has decided the new year is a fresh start and it will be the year to right everything that has gone wrong.

↳ personality.

rhaena has become quite infamous for her fiery temper lately. some would say her anger is erratic, even speaking of targaryen madness, while others believe it is only the result of passion after suffering injustice and many losses in her life. she is trying to combat this nature, knowing such a reputation could be a dangerous one. but she is more than her anger and a strong sense of what is right and wrong. she is a caring friend, a devoted mother and a queen that is simply trying to what is right for her people, for her family and for the two houses she belongs to.

while dutiful to a fault when she was younger, she is feeling that she is slowly going astray as the scars inflicted upon her soul and the new friends she has made has started to change her as they inspire new sides of her. rhaena has lost so much to duty and she is determined to live more than she did before. after all, doing everything by the book has not granted her anything but treason, hurt and disappointment.

↳ the splitting of the kingdoms.

it took a long time before rhaena accepted the splitting of the kingdoms, in truth she still has not fully accepted it, but after all the guests left king’s landing, she found herself with the peace of mind to properly deal with it.

while she is more open now to negotiations than before, as a consequence of time passing and some of the new royals’ part in rescuing her son, the queen has made it clear that the way the kingdoms split was nothing short of treason. in public, she wishes to use this as a way to negotiate better deals for the kingdoms she rules over alongside her husband as a way for the split kingdoms to pay their debt and she has come to sunspear with that view. but secretly, she is still not dismissing of re-conquering the traitorous kingdoms and her overall ambition is to see them back under the rule of the iron throne, but rhaena has hatched no concrete plans as of yet and has shared her true view with no one but lord fanghorn, the master of war, and her husband. if an opportunity arises in sunspear to go down this path, she might pursue it.

rhaena believes the summit will only end in chaos, which is why she - with the support of her husband - has brought a small army of guards with her to protect her family, ladies-in-waiting, friends and servants.  

  ♛   STATUS: TAKEN.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Caramel Skin Under A Purple Rain prt 21 full draft

Returning to Daibazaal, Lance felt his “freedom” on Altea was all too short. He’d gotten into a fight with his mother over his pregnancy. She wanted to talk about it. He did not. She wanted him taking his medication. He did not. He won the first argument, before losing the second spectacularly. He understood she was curious and in a state of shock, but this wasn’t how she was supposed to find out. He felt like a petulant toddler stomping after their mother. Not that he could stomp. Crutches for up to a month possibly, made that rather hard. He was hobbling high. Hopping high? Some clever alliteration that had him giggling to himself as he followed his mother towards Keith’s room. Well it wasn’t Keith’s room. Keith’s room wasn’t anywhere near this wing of the palace. Plus, Keith’s room had all his knives and his bathtub. A bath would be good... A few candles and some bubble bath... That sounded divine... Oh... but Keith was mad at him. He probably wasn’t allowed to use the bath. Or his bed... Or his dick... He could go for a good hard fuck right about now... Blushing at his own thoughts, he giggled again. His Mami would slap him senseless with her pink slipper if she knew what he was thinking. Waiting for him to catch up, Krolia wandered out the quarantine room, hand on her pregnant stock as she gave Miriam a one armed hug “Miriam. It’s wonderful to see you” “You too, Krolia. You’re glowing” Laughing, Krolia broke the hug “This little one is all to blame. Keeps me up half the night. I just hope they’re not as much trouble as their big brother” “Enjoy it while it lasts. I’ve brought Lance to see Keith. I’m afraid he’s a little out of it. The pain medication they have him, has had him giggling to himself the whole walk here. They certainly grow height wise, but sometimes I have to wonder” “Now, both our boys have grown into fine men... for the most part. Keith’s being horribly stubborn. He’s barely talked to me about what happened, more concerned about Lance” “Lance has been much the same. He’s convinced Keith wants a divorce. Dragging him here was like pulling hen’s teeth” Lance felt betrayed. His happy buzz flipping to anger. Turning on the spot, he started to limp away from his gossiping mother. He hadn’t told her that so she’d run off and mock him at the first available opportunity “Lance? Mijo? Don’t you want to see Keith?” “Leave me alone!” Hobbling was faster than relying on his crutches. He wasn’t supposed to weight bare his knee. Lance could count the number of flying fucks he gave on one hand “Mijo...” Jogging after him, his Mami had the advantage of two working legs. Grabbing his arm, Lance shook her off “Mijo!” “No! I told you that in confidence! Not so you and Krolia could have a good fucking laugh at my expense! You weren’t there and you have no idea what it was like!” His mother’s face softened “You know that wasn’t Keith...” “It was the toxin! I know! Ok. But we haven’t been ok for months! Fucking months! This is the most time I’ve spent with him since Christmas! We don’t have much of a fucking marriage! And now you’re laughing at me, when you weren’t even there!” “What do you think you’re doing!?” Storming out of the quarantine room, Veronica marched straight up to him, before slapping him hard across the face “You have no right to talk to Mami like that, not when you haven’t been to visit Keith once since he woke” Clutching his throbbing cheek, Lance glared daggers at his sister. His mother gasping at her oldest daughter’s actions “Oh, fuck off, V. What would you know?” “I know you’re upsetting Acxa! She was in tears. I know you’re abusing our mother for no good reason! She came because you called! I know you’re screaming out here, and too much of a coward to go in there! He’s your husband!” “I know that!” Starting to limp away from Veronica, Veronica yanked his arm, causing his shirt to catch and tear on the handle of the crutch. The action exposing the black purple bruising up his side and across his back. Veronica’s eyes filling with... Whatever. Lance didn’t want to think what she thought. It had to be either pity, or guilt. If she was feeling guilt, then she’d start kicking herself for fighting with him. Life would be so much easier if you could simply buy normality. He’d throw all the GAC that he had, at his friends and family if it would buy them treating him normally. Straightening himself up, Lance wasn’t sorry over the loss of the shirt. It was one of Keith’s. With Keith being broader than him, it didn’t cling too tightly to his developing breasts or his swelling stomach. He was starting to get to big to start hiding it with his own shirts, and he was barely pushing 10 movements now “Don’t fucking say a word” “I thought you only twisted your knee” Wow. His sister was fucking blind. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt, exposing his arm and neck, as well as the small amount of bruising he didn’t know he had on his face “And I thought you might know what it’s like for a mission to go wrong. I guess we both don’t know anything... Go back to Acxa. I’m glad she’s doing better” “Everyone is doing better, which you’d know if you weren’t so busy running away” “Veronica, I think that’s enough. Lance, Keith is awake if you want to pop your head in” As far as Lance knew, Krolia had never scolded his older sister before. It was humiliating to have his mother-in-law standing up for him. His mother and his sister were staring at him so intently that every bit off of his happy buzz was gone “I know it’s hard being here, but maybe if you see that he’s doing better, it’ll be good for your nerves. I can come in with you?” Casting a glance up the hall, Lance had no where he could escape to. He’d made his way through the halls because his mother was by his side. His loopy mind wasn’t able to concentrate on all the unwanted Galra scents around them. If he’d continued to hobble, he’d most likely have to face the fact he was horribly lost... “Fine... but only Krolia... and only for a tick” “Mijo...” He didn’t want to get there and be stuck talking to Keith. He knew his mother would ask Keith way too many questions “It’s quite alright Miriam. I’ll be with him. Do you need a hand?” Shaking his head, Lance gathered up his crutches “I’m fine” Krolia was gentle about the whole thing. She didn’t force him to talk as they made their way up to the quarantine room. Pausing to take a deep breath, it was too late to run. Limping in, his heart fell. Sitting on Keith’s bed, Keith and Krystaal we’re sharing Keith’s game console. The pair whispering hotly as Keith’s fingers pressed the controls. Too close. They were way too close. Krystaal’s shoulder rubbing against Keith’s. Keith laughing softly as Krystaal took the console out his hands, then making a grab for it. Keith hadn’t even noticed him there “Keith’s healing well. He’s prone to suddenly outbursts still. The toxin will take about another three quintants to fully clear his system” He seemed fine. He seemed happy. Lance thought Keith would be laying back in bed, with an IV and... not all over Krystaal “Would you two give it a rest already!?” Yelling from the other side of the room, Ezor was cuddled up in Zethrid’s arms “Shut up! Krystaal’s cheating” He didn’t belong here. Napping by the edge of the force field, Kosmo woke when stretched, his back leg hitting the force field with a small crackle “Its to prevent anyone walking in or out. We can pass non-organic objects through” Explaining softly, they were still standing in the doorway. Krolia close, but not quite touching. Licking at the paw that hit the forcefield, Kosmo looked quite miserable “Kosmo keeps zapping himself trying to get to Keith” “He’s... gonna be ok, right? Kosmo...” “Nothing holds him down. He wasn’t affected by the toxin, only the brambles. Keith! Lance is here...” Groaning, Lance took back the mental appreciation of Krolia not pushing him. His husband’s head snapping up at Lance’s name. Accidentally locking eyes with him, Lance’s heart started to hammer. Even sick, Keith was extraordinarily beautiful... Unwantedly, the memories of the planet shot back to mind... Keith didn’t want him “Krolia... I don’t think I can do this” “Do you need to sit? I know it’s all a bit confronting” “I think...” “Lance!” Dropping his crutches, Lance flinched back at Keith’s cry. Guilt clouding Keith’s features as he slowed his actions of climbing off his hospital bed. He couldn’t fucking... he couldn’t do this... “Lance, come sit down. You look as if you need a tick” Picking up crutches for him, Krolia took him by the arm to lead him over to the camp bed she’d been using. Sitting on the edge, he knew everyone was staring at him. Everyone hated him. Whispering softly, Krolia stared at him sympathetically “Is it your knee?” “No. It’s fine... sorry... I’m so sorry, Krolia. This is all my fault” Sitting next to him, Lance heard Keith growling at his mother’s movements. Ignoring her son, Krolia rubbed his back “Take a moment” “I don’t think I should be here...” “What happened wasn’t your fault...” “But it was. It because I went looking for Kosmo that everyone ended up injured” “They were exposed to the toxin before then” “I fucked up... I did this Krolia. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave your planet as soon as I can...” “Lance, you’re overreacting. You don’t need to leave. This is your home too” “Everyone could have died because I went looking for Kosmo” “You went looking for him, because you’re a kind man. Do you honestly think for a tick I would have let you stay had this been your fault?” “I don’t know... You’re scary... but really nice too... I thought I was only staying because you had nowhere to send me” “No. No. Not at all...” “Can I go? I... I can’t even face Keith” “He’s really wanted to see you” “I can’t with everyone here...” “Here, hold my hand” Holding Krolia’s hand, Lance found himself standing before Keith. His husband had his hands clenched, able to look him in the eye, while Lance gazed down at Keith’s bandaged foot “Oh... god, babe. Are you ok?” Words? What were words? His tongue didn’t remember how to make them. Squeezing Krolia’s hand in panic, Krolia smoothly replied to her son “Miriam just told me he’s a little out of it on pain medication. Your yelling didn’t help with his nerves” “It’s your fault not bringing him here earlier. I’ve had to watch Acxa and Veronica being all gross over in the corner. Babe, I’m so sorry...” “He’s a little shaken...” “Mum, I’m trying to talk to my husband” Snapping at his mother, Lance winced. He hated being the cause of a family fight “And I’m trying to explain that he’s shaken. He thinks you seriously want a divorce” Both his mother’s could go jump. He should have taken up Coran’s offer. Softly, Keith’s voice cut through his anger “Lance, will you please look at me? I have something I need to tell you” This was it. This was Keith confirming it. Raising his head, he ground his teeth together. With wide eyed and a washed out complexion, Keith seemed to be staring straight into his soul “I don’t want a divorce” “Why not?” The question burst forth, surprising the three of them. His voice was devoid of emotion “What?” “Why not? Everything you all said was correct. If anything, it was refreshing to hear the truth from you all. I’m fine. Bruising and a bad sprain. Nothing important. I’ll let you rest. Veronica will be wanting to see Acxa” Keith tried to push against the forcefield, hissing when his hands were zapped “None of it was true!” “It is. I... I’ll stay away” “Lance!” “I’m sorry” He truly was. Sorry he still existed and Keith was bound to him through their twins “Babe... No. it’s not your fault!” “It is! It’s all my fucking fault! You all nearly fucking died! You and Acxa... Your throats swelled so badly I... I did this to all of you! I’m leaving. I can’t be here. I know you all hate. I know I’m weak!” Swaying, Krolia pulled him close “That’s enough. Lance, let’s get you resting” “Take Kosmo with you! Please, Lance... This isn’t your fault” Shaking his head, Lance detangled himself from Krolia “He’s your son. Not mine”

[chocoluckchipz]

Forbidden Love That Wasn’t - 8

< Previous                                                      Read on A03, FF.net, WattPad     

                                                   A few years ago

There were only a few achievements in his life that Gabriel Agreste was genuinely proud of. One was the time when, after a carefully executed scheme, Mme Bourgeois had finally discovered his genius and opened the door for Gabriel to become the fashion icon he was today. Another was his childhood sweetheart Emilie finally noticing him and after a few years of a whirlwind romance becoming Mme Agreste. Their marriage and the birth of their son were the pinnacles of Gabriel’s life. No other time he felt so happy and fulfilled- until one day it all shattered with a horrible accident. Without Emilie his life had lost all meaning and even Adrien, the highlight of their marriage, couldn’t keep Gabriel from sinking into desperation. As Hawkmoth he had been obsessed with one idea only – to bring his wife back. He didn’t care what it cost him - any sacrifice was worth another touch, one more embrace and a single kiss from his Emilie. So, he persisted, putting Adrien and all of Paris in danger. It was all worth it. There would always be something to fix the damage, and if there wouldn't be, it was still worth it. Even Nathalie had thought so- at least until one day when she unexpectedly betrayed him by handling in her resignation and walking out. Gabriel had said nothing but when she came back the next day to pick up her things he couldn’t keep it in.

“I apologize, M Agreste, but that won’t be happening,” Nathalie calmly replied on his demands to stop this nonsense and resume her work. “I meant it when I resigned yesterday. I’ve blindly stood by your side for years, but enough is enough.”

When he pressed for an explanation, Nathalie didn’t say a lot. By her words, his pursuit had become an obsession ruining his life, and that she was done helping him in what he would probably never achieve and, in fact, she wasn’t even sure anymore that Emilie herself would want such a high price to be paid for her life.

“It’s been years, Gabriel,” Nathalie concluded, her eyes pleading but with little hope. “Probably a decade and have you moved even an inch closer to your goal? They always win no matter what you do and they always will. They have many kwamis, a team and a Guardian; you are alone and alienating everyone even further by succumbing to this obsession of yours. Your life is slipping through your fingers and for what? Your son has left-”

“He moved out for school, Nathalie! Many kids do-”

“Adrien’s been dreaming of escaping this house for years, Gabriel,” Nathalie snapped back. “Can’t you see how lonely and miserable you’ve made him feel? Sometimes even I felt like he is an orphan with a living parent.”

“He has everything he needs-”

"Emotional abandonment is a thing, and it hurts more than a physical one.”

“That’s absurd!” Gabriel scoffed. “I didn’t abandon him. He can always make an appointment to see me.”

Nathalie sharply inhaled and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know why I even bother anymore,” she quietly added. “Like it or not, Gabriel, but you lost your son who is alive, trying to get back the wife who’s been dead for more than a decade. If you are fine with that, then I have even less to do here than I thought.”

Turning away, Nathalie walked off in silence.

“I didn’t lose him!” Gabriel yelled as the door behind her closed with a thud. “Adrien is still my son even if he lives in a different place.”

There was no one to answer him in his empty house, but despite that, he continued to yell all of the frustration out, until a now familiar sensation of pressure and burning coiled in his chest. Gabriel stilled and inhaled deeply, composing himself back to his usual self. A heartless traitor like Nathalie didn’t deserve another moment of his and she, certainly, didn't earn the right to make him lose his composure. She wanted to quit? Good! The door was open! Scoffing under his breath, sick to his stomach and slightly dizzy, Gabriel walked away. Yet as he lay down to rest that night, he could help but admit it to himself - his house was empty, his career - barely surviving, his world all of a sudden felt like an endless void.

The time had only proven Nathalie right. Adrien hadn’t called him. Gabriel had to ask his new assistant to call Adrien, but even when that happened, they had little to talk about. Adrien hadn’t visited unless ordered by Gabriel, but even when he did, he didn’t stay for long. Adrien had kept his life private, vanishing almost completely from Gabriel’s.

Just like Nathalie.

A few times, out of the habit, Gabriel he had caught himself looking for her, but she wasn’t there. He'd hired new assistants, but none of them were competent enough, not to say he couldn't even think of letting them help him with his supervillain activities. The lack of control had driven Gabriel crazy as he tried to survive and function as usual, but nothing worked. None of the four assistants he’d hired in the few months following Nathalie’s resignation stayed. The sales of his designs were slowly but steadily declining as critics debated on why the celebrated fashion icon had been losing his touch over the past few years. His health was rapidly receding as well, the uncomfortable tightening in his chest being a regular occurrence now. Gabriel persevered. He had always been a strong and confident man. He could bear through this too and come out on top. Better than ever even!

Or so he thought. Because on one sombre evening a few months later, standing alone in front of Emilie’s portrait, Gabriel let Nathalie’s departing words ring in his exhausted mind for the millionth time. All of a sudden, an unexplainable wave of anxiety hit him. Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to concentrate but the thoughts were already running wild. What if Nathalie was right? What if he was chasing a dream that wasn’t meant to be? Should he let it go? Should he abandon his wife like he did Adrien- Adrien. A tremble rushed through Gabriel’s every nerve. His only son felt more and more distant with every passing day but he so clearly still needed him. Gabriel had much to give him yet, much to teach his son. Despite everything he wanted to be there and see Adrien grow into a strong man he knew his son could be. If only getting Emilie back hadn’t consumed all of his time. No wonder even his career was suffering – Gabriel did his job half-hearted for too long now. Closing his eyes, Gabriel leaned on a wall and slowly slid down to the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He thought he could handle loneliness and misery just fine. He had to admit himself wrong as the first tears rolled down his face.

A few weeks later Gabriel Agreste broke down in front of the different portrait – the one from which his once-happy family of three was smiling upon him. He barely slept that night, fighting with the fiercest opponent he’d ever faced - himself. What had happened in those hours no one would ever know, but as the sun had risen, Gabriel got up from his bed and called Nathalie. Emilie Agreste was officially proclaimed deceased by the authorities that same week, and a funeral was held shortly after. Adrien attended the event and hugging his father at the end, whispered in his ear that moving on would be the right choice for both of them. Little by little their relationship started to improve, just as Gabriel’s career. Hawkmoth was never to be heard of from that time on. Akumas disappeared along with him.

                                         The time of the main events

“Adrien Agreste is single. Yes, ladies, you heard me right – one of the most eligible bachelors out there is perfectly single and had never been in a romantic relationship with Mlle Tsurugi. Don’t get your hopes up, though, because while the pair confirmed exclusively to us today that they are and always have been just friends, they also admitted that the fake relationship we all fell for was a cover-up for a modern Forbidden Love Tale, featuring Adrien Agreste and a mystery girl. Yes, that’s right - he is single, but he is not on the dating market, ladies. The identity of the mystery girl is unknown for now but we did find out that she is a childhood friend and a co-worker, which brings us to the source of the problem - a “no dating internally” policy that Adrien’s father, the fashion tycoon Gabriel Agreste, has supposedly enforced in relation to his son. That, unfortunately, places the mystery girl on “Forbidden to Date” list and forces the couple into secrecy- at least from the public eye because one of Adrien’s close friends insist that the couple is close and the young Agreste has been smitten with the mystery girl for years. The questions are remaining:

- What happened to prompt the Agreste heir to fake a relationship with Mlle Tsurugi at this particular time? Could Gabriel Agreste have suspected something and our own modern days Romeo and Juliet needed a diversion to avoid discovery and possible consequences?

- But more important what will happen now when the secret is out? What will the fashion tycoon do? Will he ruin the young love or step up and live in the present, allowing his son to love whoever he wants? M Agreste's fears to protect his son and his fortune are understandable, but surely our society had developed enough legal safeguards to avoid any unwanted consequences if Adrien's choice will prove to be a mistake.

Forbidden Love Story of Adrien Agreste is acting out right in front of our eyes, Paris, and the next step is on Gabriel Agreste. Keep watching. With the latest news, Nadja Shamack. Alec, back to you.”

Nathalie turned the tablet screen off. “Do you want me to do something about it, M Agreste?”

“He is an idiot,” Gabriel scoffed, pitching the bridge of his nose. “Nathalie, my son is an idiot-”

“I beg to differ,” the woman protested. “Adrien might be oblivious in some matters and overly naïve but he is not an idiot and you know it.”

“Graduating at the top of his class and excelling in Business Management isn't going to land him a wife," Gabriel barked. "He might be smart, but he is an idiot when it comes to common sense and dealing with people.”

Nathalie quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? And who would you blame for that?”

Gabriel let an irritating huff out, leaning down in his chair and turning away to face the window. After a few moments of silence, he noted. “Though, she is a clever girl, this Mlle Tsurugi. In the given situation this was probably the smartest move for her.”

“You don’t suppose that it could’ve been Adrien’s idea? Or the relationship could’ve really been a fake?”

Gabriel puffed. “Please, Nathalie. Adrien alone would never go public before confronting me first. And whatever relationship he had with Mlle Tsurugi was definitely not a fake, otherwise-”

The knock on the door interrupted him.

“Father?” Adrien peeked in. “May I come in?”

Gabriel straightened up and turned to Nathalie. “Could you give us a moment?”

“Of course,” Natalie nodded and left the room.

As soon as the door behind her closed, Gabriel locked his gaze on his son, “I do not appreciate my name being dragged through the yellow press, Adrien.”

“I didn’t say anything to harm your reputation, Father.”

“Oh, really?” Gabriel glared. “You as well as threatened me with your very public ‘Poor me. My father doesn't allow me to live my life the way I want'. That was utterly unnecessary, Adrien. If you wanted to break up with that girl and date someone else you should’ve just done so. Why did you feel the need to needless whine about it to the whole world and drag me in this mess?”

Adrien frowned. “If you are so fine with me breaking up with Kagami now, why did you practically forced me to start dating just a few weeks ago in the first place?”

"I required of you to have a date for Fashion Week. What you do after that is none of my business," Gabriel barked.

“Aha,” Adrien challenged. “If my dating life is none of your business then, I guess, you wouldn’t care if I start dating Marinette, right?”

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng?”

“Yes. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Why would I protest?” Gabriel puffed, crossing his arms on his chest. “Certainly, took you long enough to finally see her.”

Adrien blinked. “What? But you said I can’t date internally- by the way, don’t you dare to fire her. I swear if you do-”

Gabriel sighed in exasperation. “You are so dramatic. Just like your mother.”

Adrien stopped talking, dumbfoundedly staring at his father.

“Don’t worry, I won’t fire her,” Gabriel assured, taking pity on, from the looks of it, the quite confused young man in front of him. “Why would I in my sane mind fire the most promising person in the company? I see you’ve exhausted yourself during the fashion week. You need to rest. I’ll tell Nathalie to clear your schedule for the week.”

Adrien cleared his throat. “Just to be clear - you are fine with me dating Marinette even though she is your employee?”

“I don’t see the point in repeating myself, Adrien,” Gabriel sighed, relaxing back into his chair. “But seeing your inability to realize things lately let me rephrase it in a way you will understand – I want this company to succeed and thrive even after I am no longer here and, no offence, but you didn’t inherit what it takes. That’s why someone as talented as Mlle Dupain-Cheng is highly desirable as your girlfriend for now and in the future as your wife and the mother of my grandchildren. I’m sure, with her talent any children of hers would be capable of bringing Gabriel to-”

Adrien almost squeaked. “Grandchildren? Father, what grandchildren are you talking about?”

“Mine of course,” Gabriel scoffed. “Your future children, Adrien. You do plan on having them one day, don’t you?”

Adrien pressed his lips together. “I believe that’s none of your business.”

“I see exhaustion influenced your manners.” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I guess I can let it slip this time as long as you don’t throw a tantrum and avoid having children just to spite me-”

“That’s not the point!” Adrien seethed through his teeth. “Why are you thinking of grandchildren now at all?”

“A good businessman always thinks ahead,” Gabriel retorted with a shrug.

“I- You- You know what? Just forget it!” Adrien groaned, then straightened up ready to leave. “I just wanted to tell you one more thing before I leave – I’m done blindly following your rules. This is my life and I’m going to live it my way.”

“Look at you all grown up and using the language. How very adult of you.” Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his chair. “Still your rudeness isn’t appreciated, Adrien. Grown up or not, I’m still your father.”

“My father who kept me locked up all my childhood and even after I escaped you still manage to control quite a lot of my life.”

“I did let you go to school, didn’t I?” Gabriel answered. “You frequently attended the events you wanted and hanged out with your friends, didn’t you? I did not place on you a single restriction that wasn’t for your safety or benefit, and I certainly am not controlling you now, Adrien.”

“You let me go to school because I kept escaping-”

“Wasn’t very smart of you!”

"I was able to go only to a few hangouts because you overloaded me with extracurricular activities-"

“And can you tell me they didn’t come in handy as you grew up?”

“You controlled my every step, Father but you were never there for me!”

“I was always available to you!”

“By appointment?” Adrien shook his head. “All I ever wanted, Father, was for us to be a real family and for me to have friends. Was that too much to ask for?”

“We were a family, Adrien,” Gabriel retorted. “We still are and you have your friends. What else do you want from me?”

“Father, I-” Adrien paused. Gabriel could see a million emotions zoom through Adrien’s face as he kept his eyes locked on him. Then his son breathed out as his shoulders slacked. He ran his hand through his hair and added. “Nothing. You’re right – we are a family. Maybe not a conventional one but we are something.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair before saying quietly. “I’m sorry I was rude, Father. The last couple of weeks were kind of hard on me.”

“Believe me, I know.” Gabriel could hardly keep himself from smirking as the corners of his lips trembled. “I saw that clearly in your lingerie photoshoot. Though, I suppose you should thank me for that.”

Adrien’s eyes widened and snapped to Gabriel. “Wait- Are you- all those photo shoots- and dinner- you ditched us both- and you sent her to work with me-” Narrowing his eyes on Gabriel, Adrien accused. “You did that on purpose? There was no education of any kind! You were playing matchmaking!”

“Oh! There was education,” Gabriel stated with a satisfied look on his face. “Only it was you who needed a lesson on your own feelings.”

He could see Adrien’s blood boil as he clenched his fists and almost yelled back. “What were you thinking? That- that wasn’t okay by any standards! Do you even realize how uncomfortable you made Marinette feel? She was mortified at that photo shoot.”

“It’s not like she didn’t benefit from that whole situation-”

“Ugh!!! That’s not the point!” Adrien barked. “Father, you can’t play games like these with people and especially not with Marinette! She didn’t deserve this! You have to apologize!”

Gabriel’s eyebrows flew up before he frowned. “Apologize? I don’t think you understand the whole situation, Adrien-”

“I don’t care about the whole situation, Father! You’ve humiliated her and made her uncomfortable in front of a lot of people. You have to apologize!”

“Adrien, I-”

“Do you think she’d want to stay here when she finds out why she had to strip down and let other people take pictures of her nearly naked in compromising positions?”

Gabriel sat straight. “She benefited from that. Of course, she’ll stay.”

“Wanna bet? Because I will encourage and support her in finding a decent employer who would treat her with respect.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I certainly am.” Adrien stood proudly. “You have to come clean to Marinette and apologize and then let her decide what she wants to do or I will do that for you.”

Gabriel sharply inhaled, closed his eyes and remained in that position for a few moments, thinking. On the one hand, he was glad that his son finally got some backbone after all. On the other, that backbone was directed toward him right now. Thoughts raced through his mind as he calculated his options.

"I see you want me to handle this," Adrien said, and Gabriel flinched. He would not be putting at risk his company’s future. He already went too far, invested too much in Marinette to risk her quitting now.

“I’ll do it,” he hissed. “I’ll talk to her.”

“And apologize?”

“I will.”

“And I want all the proofs and photos from those photo shoots. You won’t be publishing a single one.”

Gabriel silently reached in one of his drawers and pulled out a file full of photos, proofs and two SD cards. “It was never meant to be published.”

Adrien picked up the file and looked inside. His face flushed as he closed the file promptly. "Good. Then if there is nothing more for us to discuss, I’ll be going.”

Adrien barely stepped away when Gabriel spoke. “If we are being honest for once, let me make this clear - I’m placing big hopes in that girl. If everything goes as it has been so far, Mlle Dupain Cheng will most likely take over the head designer position after me.”

Adrien stilled as Gabriel continued. “You are my son and I want you and our company to prosper even after I’m gone. You are highly competent in Business Management, but you can't design, Adrien, can you?"

Adrien shook his head. “I never pretended I can or even want to do that.”

“That’s why I take my time and educate Mlle Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel continued. “Her talent is extraordinary and with a little education, she’s more than capable of doing the job. You’ll be putting your degree to use and handling the business side of ‘Gabriel’, but it would be Marinette whom I will trust with designing.”

“I’m fine with that,” Adrien nodded.

“I knew you would be and at first I did not want you to complicate things with romance since those can easily go awry pretty quickly. But seeing you two pine one after another, or rather Mlle Dupain-Cheng pinning after you as you keep friendzoning her in your obliviousness while clearly having feelings for her for years just got on my nerves.”

“So, you decided to open my eyes and get us together?”

“Business staying in the family is quite appealing, wouldn’t you say? Plus, as I said already, your offsprings would have a good chance of being capable of carrying on my legacy. Talent runs on a genetic level, Adrien. She certainly has it, and I'm sure there are my genius somewhere in your genes-”

“Please, don’t start this again,” Adrien mumbled, lightly massaging his temples. “We just started dated a few hours ago and you already talking grandchildren. Just- Just stop. Don’t talk about this at all. This is my relationship - I don’t want you in it. I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“Alright.” Gabriel nodded. “For now, at least. But I will warn you, Adrien - I didn't spend all of this time teaching her only for you to this mess up. So, know this - if I see you screwing things up, I will interfere.”

Adrien shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as Gabriel continued, “All I’m saying is - if sometime in the future your ways do part, you’d better do it in such a way that you two can still work together, because like it or not but she is the one I chose to lead ‘Gabriel’ one day.”

Adrien sighed. “We are civil people. I’m sure we would be able to work things out if anything happened, which I doubt would, but still.”

“This is real life, Adrien, not one of your animes," Gabriel said somberly. "It can get messy and unpredictable. Your every move, every decision is a bargain and a risk, and you’d better be prepared for the consequences of your choices.”

“Then I guess I should indeed be thanking you for taking a risk on me and letting me date your prized employee, instead of keeping it safe with that ‘no dating internally’ rule,” Adrien retorted with a hint of irony. “Thank you for the trust.”

“Technically speaking,” Gabriel responded with a nonchalant look on his face, picking up on of his pens to fiddle with. “Mlle Dupain-Cheng isn't my employee, so the ‘no dating internally’ rule doesn’t apply to her, and therefore, she has never been forbidden for you to date.”

“What?” Adrien's eyes flew wide. “How is she not your employee?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.” She is my protégé, Adrien. There is a difference. She is my student, not my employee.”

“But you pay her?”

“Of course, I do. I need Mlle Dupain-Cheng alive if I want to teach her.”

“Father, that’s not how it works. If you are paying her for work, she is your employee.”

"This is my company, Adrien, and I decide what works here and how. I'm teaching Mlle Dupain-Cheng, and her ‘work' is the same work that students do in school – assignments and tests if you may – yet those students aren’t considered to be employed by their school, now are they?”

“Alright, you think what you want to, but didn’t you just say you didn’t want me to complicate things with romance? How is that not forbidden?”

“I did want to avoid you potentially messing the situation up with romance,” Gabriel nodded. “But my wishes don’t change the fact that Mlle Dupain-Cheng isn’t considered to be my employee and that ‘dating internally’ rule has never really applied to her.”

Adrien opened his mouth to comment, but an intercom buzzer interrupted him. Gabriel pressed the button.

“Yes?”

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng is here,” Nathalie reported. “Should I let her in?”

Gabriel glanced at Adrien. “Yes, send her in.” Releasing the button, he added. “Our conversation will have to be continued at another time, Adrien.”

“Don’t forget to apologize, Father,” Adrien reminded as he headed to the door.

“How can I? You keep reminding me.”

“I’ll wait for Marinette outside so you’d better keep your word. Then—” Adrien smirked, “—I’m sure this won’t be a problem since you seem to be quite desperate for her to remain your student.”

“How perceptive of you,” Gabriel snapped. “I see you’re learning fast these days.”

“Only because I have the best teachers,” Adrien slightly bowed to his father with a smile on his lips. His tone, though, remained serious. “If you truly want Marinette here, Father, then respect is the least you can give her.”

As the door behind Adrien cracked opened, he turned away to greet his new girlfriend, missing on his father's groan.

“Why couldn’t you inherit my temperament?” Gabriel mumbled under his breath and stood up to greet his next visitor as well. It took a few more moments for Adrien to lean down, whisper something into Marinette’s ear and gently kiss her cheek before he left the room, throwing Gabriel one more glare.

“Good morning, M Agreste,” Marinette greeted. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” Gabriel motioned her to a chair. “Please, take a seat.”

As soon as Marinette settled down, Gabriel took one of the folders and placed it before her. “I won’t keep you for long since you’ve been promised a day off today, Mlle Dupain-Cheng.”

“That’s alright,” Marinette quietly replied, her smile so nervous even Gabriel noticed.

“In any case, we shall make this quick since I have only a few things to discuss,” Gabriel continued, “Let’s start with the easy one. He pushed the folder closer to her. “These are the photos of the most interesting pieces from Fashion Week. I’d like you to analyze them and write me a report on emerging trends and anything you would find worth of noticing. You have a week for that.”

Marinette nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

“I’m sure you will. Now,” Gabriel cleared his throat, “Adrien had informed me that you two have started dating.”

Marinette seemed to tense as she answered quietly, “Yes, we did.”

“Good.” Gabriel nodded. “As long as this development won’t influence your work ethic.”

“No, M Agreste. It won’t,” Marinette assured him, looking a little surprised and dumbfounded. “I promise I’ll continue to do my best.”

“I have complete faith in you, Mlle Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel responded, before clearing his throat and pulling a white envelope from one of the other folders. Placing it before Marinette, he continued. “And the last question. Please, accept this as my apology, Mlle Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette frowned. “Apology?”

“Yes.” Gabriel pushed the envelope closer to her. “In the last few weeks, I might have been pushing a line a little with a few rather unorthodox activities I’ve been forcing you to do.”

“You mean that photoshoot?” Marinette quirked an eyebrow.

“That photoshoot as well,” Gabriel nodded. “In case you’re wondering - none of those photos will be published anywhere. I’ve already given everything I had, including the digital media, to Adrien. You two deal with it however you want.”

A few silent moments had passed as Marinette thought about something before proceeding carefully. “May I ask you why you did it, M Agreste? Why did you feel the need to make me take those photos?”

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose for a moment before turning away, he answered quietly but firmly. “Let’s just say I do not appreciate when such levels of obliviousness as my son had showcased are tainting my family name.”

“In other words, this whole thing was executed only to seduce Adrien with a half-naked me?”

“I merely showed him the woman he'd already been in love with from a different angle so he could finally get out of that irritating denial of his and realize his feelings. Nothing wrong with giving him a little push, or would you rather wait for a few more years before he would’ve got it himself?”

Marinette froze. “Nothing wrong with that? M Agreste, I signed up for a designing job, not for being photographed half-naked or act as a tool in your schemes, but that isn’t the main point the point here! Do you even realize how uncomfortable you made your son feel?”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes. “That was quite evident.”

“And you are okay with that?” Marinette scoffed. When nothing but a low hum escaped Gabriel, she fumed, standing up. “I can’t believe this. That’s not okay, M Agreste. You can’t play with people like that, and especially with people’s feelings. But if it doesn’t bother you, as it seems not to, then, I think, it’s time for me to re-evaluate if Gabriel is the place I want to work at.”

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng,” Gabriel responded immediately. “Let’s not rush into anything right now. My family’s matter shouldn’t reflect on our business relationship.”

“Of course, they shouldn’t,” Marinette snapped. “Too bad your family’s matters concern Adrien and even if he wouldn’t be dating, he is as close to my heart as my own family, which means that anything concerning him will reflect on what I decide to do in the future.”

“Adrien and I have already spoken about the matter and cleared things up, so there is no need-”

“Did you apologize, M Agreste?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Did you apologize, M Agreste,” Marinette repeated. “For making your son feeling mortified and exposed in front of who knows how many people?

“I believe issues as such are none of your concern, Mlle Dupain Cheng,” Gabriel sneered. “I may admire your talent and have big hopes for you, but I will not tolerate this kind of attitude towards myself.”

“And I don’t think I want to work for someone with your kind of attitude.” Marinette straightened up as she declared, “I quit.”

"You can't-" Gabriel protested standing up, but Marinette didn't listen.

“And since I don’t work for you anymore, I might just tell you what I think about all of this and you personally, M Agreste. I admire you. As a designer and a businessman, you are exceptional and brilliant. That’s why I am here catering to your every whim – I want to learn from you, and, possibly, someday achieve even a tenth of what you’ve done. But as a father, M Agreste, excuse me, but you are a failure. Yes, you’ve given Adrien a house to live in and the best education possible but do you have the slightest idea how lonely and miserable he was all this time? Did you see how eager he was to escape the gilded prison you’ve put him into? You’ve abandoned him and took away the only thing he ever truly wanted – yourself and your love-”

“That’s not true!” Gabriel growled. “I love my son!”

“Then prove it!” Marinette retorted. “You made him miserable once again so apologize for your actions. It’s never too late to start because I know he loves you very much, M Agreste. He will accept you and love you back, but you have to make the first step.”

The pair glared at each other in silence for a few moments before Marinette sadly smirked, murmured “Right” under her breath and headed for the door. The moment she reached for the handle, though, Gabriel called out. “Alright. You win. I’ll do that.”

Gabriel’s jaw hurt from how hard he was pressing his teeth together, his knuckles as white as snow as Gabriel clenched his fists. Giving in to Marinette's demands were beyond embarrassing, but he achieved too much to give it up now. That was the first scheme of Gabriel’s in a long time that had succeeded and he would do anything to see this victory through to the end, especially when the future of his son and his company were at stakes. In this particular situation, failure was not an option.

“You win,” Gabriel repeated as Marinette turned around. “I will apologize to Adrien.” He picked up the envelope that Marinette left behind and added, “Let’s do this – you accept my apology and take a week off. Then we meet again and discuss how we can continue to work together.”

“Alright,” Marinette consented but nodding towards the envelope added, “I don’t need whatever is in there. Your apologies to Adrien would be enough."

“A good businessman first considers the offer and then refuses,” Gabriel proclaimed, offering her the envelope once again. “Let this be one of my lessons, Mlle Dupain-Cheng. How can you say that my offer won’t be beneficial to you both of you if you haven’t seen what’s inside?”

“I don’t want to gain at Adrien’s expense.”

"And you won't be. This is a part of my apology to you. Adrien is a different story and will be apologized to in an appropriate manner as well. But since you 'were also put out of your element, I'd like for you to be compensated for that."

“I don’t need any money beyond what I earn, M Agreste.”

“This isn’t money. Take a look and then decide.”

After a few moments, Marinette resigned, walked over and took the envelope. She frowned, pulling a few sheets of paper out and reading. “Two vacation packages to the Maldives?”

“I thought that after everything that happened you would like to get away for a while, especially after that stunt with publicity that Adrien pulled today. Media already started to hunt you down, Mlle Dupain-Cheng, so getting away to rest and prepare for what’s coming might be a sensible choice right now.”

“Why did you include two tickets?”

“I thought you’d like to bring someone with you to keep you company but, of course, if you'd prefer to go by yourself, you can do so."

Gabriel could see the hesitation on her face as Marinette was considering his offer for a few moments before she answered.

“That is very generous of you,” she said. “And, to be honest, it does make sense to get away right now, but the only way I’m accepting this is if you apologize to Adrien first.”

“I will,” Gabriel assured her.

“Why not to do this now then?” Marinette asked. “Seeing that the plane leaves tomorrow morning, it's better to be dealt with as soon as possible. Adrien’s waiting for me outside, so give me a few seconds."

Gabriel’s internally groaned as Marinette headed to the door. He didn’t wish to deal with it now. He’d been humiliated enough for one day. As Marinette opened the doors and stepped outside, Gabriel tensed, goosebumps running across his body. He pressed his lips together. He couldn’t avoid doing it either because that meant losing his star designer, someone he already had made a mistake to invest in too much and envision as the only suitable candidate for taking after him. He didn’t have time to find and train another talent. It was just too much to lose at this point. Gabriel almost growled out loud when a gentle, soothing touch against his chest from the inside of his jacket stopped him. Closing his eyes, the man inhaled. He could do this. He was strong and capable of winning anything that came his way. Maybe, he even should do it – from the looks of those photos, Adrien did live through a very personal embarrassment in front of his whole team. Not that he hadn’t deserved that for his extreme obliviousness, but maybe Gabriel should’ve been more considered. Adrien did carry his last name after all and everything that happened to him would reflect on Gabriel, and he knew that. Otherwise, Gabriel would’ve never confiscated every possible picture and file related to those photoshoots.

His shoulders slumped as Adrien walked in and looked at him. Gabriel averted his gaze.

“I’ll wait outside,” Marinette smiled at them and slipped behind the door.

“Did you apologize to Marinette?” Adrien asked coming closer.

“I did.”

“Good. Why did you want to see me again?”

“I-” Gabriel cleared his throat. “I believe I owe you an apology as well.”

Adrien’s eyebrows crawled up. “An apology? For me?”

"Yes,” Gabriel sighed. “For that photoshoot and everything else basically. Accept my deepest regrets.”

For a short while, Adrien dumbfoundedly stared at his father. Then a light smile sneaked on his lips. “You were obviously forced to do that but—” unexpectedly, he appeared right by Gabriel’s side and put his arm on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I appreciate the effort, Father. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Gabriel muttered under his breath, feeling paralyzed. It has been too long since he had been experienced physical contact his son. Physical expressions of affection between them, in general, were rare – it was Emilie's domain – but even those had evaporated as Adrien grew older. It felt odd and uncomfortable, but Gabriel loved it nevertheless. He did love Adrien, even if he was bad at expressing that. Otherwise, he would've never even considered of giving up on Emilie and moving on those few years back. He did it for Adrien. Hawkmoth gave in so his son could have a father in his life again. “I gave Marinette a vacation package in addition to my verbal apology,” he added as Adrien pulled his arm back. “She needs to rest and rejuvenate.”

“Good idea,” Adrien hummed. “She needs to get away right now for sure.”

“I told her so as well,” Gabriel replied. “You can have a week off to hide from the paparazzi as well who I presume are already on your tail searching for your mystery lover.”

“Sounds good,” Adrien nodded.

“And upon your return, I think, it’s time you finally started to use that Business degree of yours.”

“Oh,” Adrien blinked in surprise. “Are you sure you are my father?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Adrien,” Gabriel scoffed. “Of course, I am.”

Adrien chuckled. "Well, I'm sorry for being suspicious, but my father insisted I'll be modelling until I'm in my thirties at least.”

Gabriel frowned. Adrien laughed. “Am I getting too old and ugly to be Gabriel’s face?”

“Don’t be a fool either,” Gabriel retorted. “You are at your prime right now as far as I can judge. However, by industry standards, you'll be less and less in demand as you reach your thirties. And since I’ve always intended for you to deal with the business side, you might as well start to get into it now.”

“Sound good to me.” A corner of Adrien’s lips tugged in a smile. Glancing at the door, he stretched his hand to Gabriel. “If there is nothing else to discuss right now, I’ll be heading off. Marinette is waiting for me.”

“Alright,” Gabriel replied. “Don’t forget you have a week off.”

“You’ve had enough for me for a while, huh?” Adrien teased.

“I’m sure we both need some time off from each other, not to mention I have a media mess to deal with right now thanks to you.”

“A fine lesson for us both to learn to communicate better so these situations can be avoided in the future,” Adrien concluded. “I’ll see you in a week, Father.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, a purple blur zipped from Gabriel's jacket with a satisfied smile on his face.

“You did very well, Master.”

"I was humiliated and forced to apologize, Nooroo,” Gabriel swore. “Do you know how many times in my life I’ve apologized? I wouldn’t need ten fingers to count those and two of them happened just now. How is that doing very well?”

“You remained calm and overcame your biggest enemy, Master-”

“My biggest enemy isn’t me! I’m in perfect sync with myself.”

“You were on the verge of ruining your first successful scheme in years, Master. If you’d refused to apologize all your work would’ve been ruined-”

“Do you think I’m a fool, Nooroo? Why else do you think I agreed to their shameless demands and apologized?"

“And that was a wise choice, Master,” Nooroo bowed. “With those apologies you’ve secured your victory and made sure your son and Mlle Dupain-Cheng got together just as you wanted. Not to say that you certainly improved your relationship with Adrien. Isn’t it what you’ve been working towards for years now?”

“We are very proud of you, Sir,” Nathalie added, suddenly appearing by Nooroo’s side. “You over-exceeded all expectations and won despite everything. This calls for a celebration.”

"I don't know about that," Gabriel frowned. "They just started dating, and I need them married and having a baby or two. I'm not getting any younger, and I'd love to know that this company will have a secure line of talented heirs.”

“Adrien and Marinette are very protective of their relationship right now,” Nooroo said, his eyes closed as he concentrated on something. “They both are eager to prove to each other their feelings are genuine and not a result of your schemes. Oh!” Nooroo paused, smirked and added. “They are going on the trip you gave Marinette together, Master, so I’d say you have nothing to worry about.”

“Ah, so they took the trip?” Nathalie asked.

“They did.” Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes. “I had to improvise and come up with a different reason to give it to them on a fly, but they took it."

“Good,” Nathalie nodded, opening up her tablet. “Are we sticking to the plans then or should I hold on all the ‘accidents’ that you’ve planned for the next month?”

“No," Gabriel grumbled. “Why would you do that? I said I need grandchildren.”

“With all due respect, M Agreste,” Nathalie sighed. “But I think it’s time for you to step back and let Adrien take over.”

“I’ll have to agree,” Nooroo added. “It’s best to leave them alone now. They are cautious of everything and if you push any further, Master, you might cause an unpredictable and highly undesirable reaction. You’ve achieved the realization, confession and dating parts. Let’s leave the rest to them.”

“He is an idiot, Nooroo. He’ll ruin it.”

“I wouldn’t say so,” Nathalie objected. “Adrien tends to be very sweet and protective of those he loves. He was ready to do anything for Marinette when she was ‘just a friend’; he’d go out of his way making her happy now that they are dating.”

“Exactly,” Nooroo nodded. “Remember what I've told you, Master - they’re made for each other, so you have nothing to worry.”

“Don’t judge me if I find it hard to believe whatever ancient magic you use to determine who and what were made for each other, Nooroo,” Gabriel noted skeptically. “This is a real world with real issues and the slightest mistake can send all my hard work to waste.”

“My ancient magic, Master, has never failed me before,” Nooroo responded. “But if it makes you feel better, I can always warn you if something were to go awry.”

Gabriel turned away and thought for a few moments. "Fine." He finally seethed. "I'll leave the rest up to Adrien, but he has a year-”

“Gabriel,” Nathalie interrupted, her eyebrow quirked. “Please, be realistic. If you want a marriage and a baby a year isn’t enough. Make it five.”

“He’ll be thirty then. His fertility will-”

“Will be fine.” Nathalie interrupted. “Thirty is the perfect age to start a family.”

“Two,” Gabriel, pressing his lips together. “Two years.”

“Four,” Nathalie countered with a calm facade.

“Alright, three,” Gabriel gave in.

“Sounds good.” Nathalie nodded. Returning her attention to her tablet, she added, “Now that that’s sorted out, shall we return to your schedule?”

“Of course,” Gabriel sighed, settling back into his chair. He had to admit - there was a shift in their relationship with Nathalie after he'd begged and she'd agreed to come back. She had more control over everything - her schedule, her responsibilities, her attire choices and even over him. If he was honest, Gabriel Agreste had Nathalie to thank for his company getting back to the heights of the fashion industry. With her impeccable administration and persuasion skills, Nathalie practically forced Gabriel to work his best and rebuild his company from the ashes. It was Nathalie who dragged him to the doctor for a check-up the minute she noticed his chest discomfort. In doing so, she saved his life. A quick surgery cleared Gabriel’s arteries, but it was giving up on Hawkmoth-ing that lifted a considerable strain and helped Gabriel to recover. Little by little but he was getting there - his company was once again successful and relationship with Adrien, while far from ideal, nevertheless now existed and was improving. All of that happened because of Nathalie.

Maybe he should take her out for a celebration after all?

In the corner of his eyes Gabriel noticed Nooroo react to his thought with a subtle smile, so he brushed it away. He would never allow the day when that arrogant kwami would be proven right in thinking that Nathalie was not just his assistant to come. Any dinners and celebration will have to wait because Nathalie was his assistant, possibly a friend but he was not in love with her!

                                                  A few years later

Adrien hadn’t waited for long. Gabriel wasn’t sure if his son had even left Marinette’s side for more than an hour after their Maldives holiday getaway in the first place, but only a few weeks later the couple had officially moved in together. Just a few months after that Adrien proposed and Marinette accepted. Even to this day, Gabriel couldn’t hold back a smile, remembering how aggressively his son defended his decision for a quick proposal and Marinette’s equally baffling instant agreement.

“I don’t care what reasons you might have against this, I admit, a little-rushed decision, Father,” Adrien argued right after announcing the news. “But we've danced around each other for way too long, and neither of us wants to wait or be apart anymore. So like it or not but we are getting married in May.”

Gabriel only quirked his eyebrow. “Have you forgotten my plans concerning Mlle Dupain-Cheng, Adrien? Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

Adrien did. His son and his fiancée delivered the invitation in person, and in late spring of that year, Gabriel attended the wedding that was proclaimed by the media to be the most romantic wedding of the century, despite being extremely private and small in size. The hour the newlyweds left for their honeymoon, Gabriel had started to rub his hands together, assured that the much-desired and hugely talented heir to his empire wouldn't take long to arrive now.

Days turned into weeks, those turned into months and a few years later Gabriel was a hair’s breadth away from stepping back into the game. Had it not been for Nathalie and Nooroo he might have started to carry out one of his many schemes for an obtaining a grandchild; however, upon the slightest suggestion, those two immediately dismissed him as incapable of actually going through with any of his plans.

“Let’s be honest, Gabriel.” Nathalie quirked an eyebrow, struggling to keep a skeptical smile off her lips. “It’s one thing for you to help your son realize his own feelings. It’s completely different to manipulate him into having a baby. That would be cruel to say the least and knowing you for years, seeing you change recently, I’m quite certain you aren’t that vicious anymore.”

“Plus,” Nooroo chimed in, proudly puffing his chest out. “I didn’t want to tell you before I was absolutely certain, but a few weeks ago, there was a rush of extremely happy emotions in both Marinette and Adrien. Since then, they keep giving me sweet, happy vibes every day like nothing I’ve experienced from them before.”

“That could be anything,” Gabriel grunted. “Those two are always happy about something.”

“Aha,” Nooroo smirked. “But why then does Marinette feel exhausted most of the day and has been vomiting almost every morning or when she smells something called Camembert? If I may assume, I’d say that the baby already exists and they are just holding off on making an announcement.”

“That’s a viable possibility,” Nathalie added, “I did notice Adrien’s online shopping stray to the baby websites, but since he didn’t buy anything concrete yet, I didn’t pay special attention to that. Especially not since their friends had just had a baby - it could've been a gift for Zoië Lahiffe.”

“Fine,” Gabriel barked and turned away. “They have until Christmas to tell me. If they don’t, I’ll confront them.”

The baby announcement came a few days later on Christmas Day, and in the middle of July of the next year, Gabriel found himself beyond anxious in a waiting room of the best hospital in Paris, awaiting the birth of his magnificent, taking-the-fashion-world-by-storm heir.

“Gabriel?” Nathalie entered the room. “Where is M Dupain?”

The man shrugged. “He insisted we need breakfast after the sleepless night and went to find some food.”

“Has he been gone for long?”

“Five minutes or so. Why?”

Nathalie smiled. “The nurse said that the baby was just born, but they need about half an hour before we can go in. Hopefully, he’ll return by then.”

“A boy or a girl?” Gabriel rushed to ask, forgetting everything else, because those children of his had stupidly decided to keep the gender a surprise.

“She didn’t say. Half an hour, Gabriel. You’ve waited for years; you can wait for another thirty minutes.”

“Fine,” he grunted and sat in a nearby chair - all that room pacing was giving his legs cramps, not to mention spending most of the night in here left him feel exhausted to the point of slight dizziness, especially because he had to listen to Tom’s constant rambling. He understood the man was nervous but how would recounting his life story, business plans, and everything in between to Gabriel was supposed to help him calm down he couldn't comprehend. His stomach growled; Gabriel wrapped his arms around it, groaning internally. He’d always thought his in-laws to be overbearingly caring but maybe today Marinette’s father had the right idea about breakfast and some food at this point wouldn’t hurt? Hopefully, Tom would make it back in time for Gabriel to swallow whatever he’d found before meeting his new grandchild. He couldn't afford to present himself any less than perfect to his perfect heir. However, about twenty minutes later when Sabine, who had attended the delivery along with Adrien, came by, Tom was yet to return.

“Him and his insatiable obsession to feed everyone.” The woman rolled her eyes. “Did he at least say where he’d go?”

“No,” Gabriel replied. “But he did forget his cell phone on that table.”

“Men.” Sabine facepalmed. “Alright. You two can go meet the baby and I’ll go find my husband.”

“Are they ready for us?” Gabriel as good as jumped up from his chair. Sabine nodded and the man sped past her, Nathalie hot on his tracks. He quickly walked down the hall to the delivery room but paused right before the door, inhaling. Opening it was harder than he thought it should’ve been. On the other side, he saw a scene he could never forget. His beloved daughter-in-law, radiant as always, was resting in a bed with a smile on her face as she observed his son, who was slowly walking around, rocking a little bundle in his arms, whispering something to it. The moment Gabriel walked in, all eyes locked on him.

Adrien smiled and turned back to the bundle. “Your grandfather came to meet you, Emma.”

“Emma…” Gabriel echoed. His magnificently talented, destined for greatness heir was Emma.

“Emma,” Adrien repeated, walking closer and showing him a tiny baby swaddled in a blanket. Gabriel held his breath spotting a mop of blond hair sticking from under the tiny cap as his granddaughter moved her little lips and tried to crack open one of the eyes that hadn’t obtained their clarity yet but were clearly green.

“Emma Agreste.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Nathalie said with a rare smile on her face. “Congratulations, Adrien, Marinette.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled back at her.

“Your mother went to find your father, Marinette. He’s away, buying some food at the moment.”

Marinette giggled. “So like Papa - he always tries to feed everyone.”

Adrien chuckled with a knowing smile when Nathalie’s phone vibrated.

“Excuse me,” the woman apologized, glancing at the screen. “Somehow the media has heard of the baby’s impending birth already and wouldn't stop inquiries. I’ve been dealing with this for a while now. I’ll take it to the hallway.”

“Can you not tell them yet?” Adrien asked before Nathalie could leave. “We want to have this time to ourselves.”

“Of course.” Nathalie nodded. “Congratulations again.”

Gabriel cleared his throat as soon as his assistant exited the room. “Congratulations. I assume everything went well?”

“Everything went amazingly,” Adrien cooed to Emma. “And we are a healthy and happy little girl, aren’t we?” He paused and looked at Gabriel. “Would you like to hold her, Father?”

Gabriel blinked and puffed. “No. Of course, no. Babies are not my domain and have never been. It’s your bundle of joy - you enjoy it.”

Nevertheless, about a few minutes later the newly appointed grandfather was barely breathing as he stood in a middle of the room with a tiny human in his hands who yawned and scrunched her nose every few seconds. She clenched and released her little fingers and opened her eyes at random. Gabriel ceased any movements as she tried to make a noise and failed. That was what he'd strived for - an heir with fashion genes to take over his company and the industry. A calculated goal he’d finally obtained… Then why didn’t feel so important anymore if this little person had any fashion sense in her whatsoever?

“Marinette-”

“Shhh,” Adrien turned to Nathalie who just re-entered the room. “They are bonding.”

“No one is bonding,” Gabriel cleared his throat, summoning his manly, strict façade back onto his face. Fortunately, Nathalie's phone vibrated again, and, quickly informing Marinette that her parents had just called and would soon be here, she excused herself out of the room once more, sparing him the embarrassment. “Take this- take her away so I can move again.”

“You know you can move with her in your hands, Father? You won’t break her,” Adrien chuckled but seeing that Emma started to fuss, obliged and took his newborn daughter back into his arms. “She’s probably hungry,” he reasoned and bringing her over to Marinette let her take over.

“Then I guess I’d better depart,” Gabriel fixed his jacket. “Congratulations again, Adrien, Marinette. I wish you a speedy recovery and hope to see you soon back in the office.”

Adrien frowned. “We discussed this, Father. Marinette will come back when she is ready.”

"No one talks about a full day workload," Gabriel retorted. "She can come in for a few hours a week or work from home.”

“Father-”

“Working from home sounds like an interesting idea.” Marinette interfered. “I’m sure we can work something out once Emma is older since I doubt I’ll be able to refrain from designing for long myself, but for now I want to focus on my family.”

“We’ll let you know when Mari wants to go back, Father,” Adrien stood by his wife. Gabriel groaned inside. They had been like this ever since he admitted to scheming - overly protective of their relationship and cautious around him. It was getting better since he, as promised, had refrained from any further intrusions into their lives, but still every so often when he tried to suggest something the walls went up. Though, Gabriel had to give them due - if his advice were sound, they would usually accept it, if only on their terms.

“Alright,” he sighed. “That sounds reasonable enough. I assume our dinner today is cancelled?”

“Yes.” Adrien nodded, looking at Marinette as they seemed to communicate without words. “I think we’ll skip this one and maybe one more, depending on how my girls feel.” He paused for a moment, a mischievous smirk sneaking onto his lips. "Since you have a free evening today, Father, why don’t you take Nathalie out to celebrate Emma’s birth?”

“What? Why would I do that?” Gabriel stilled, staring back at Adrien.

“Why not?” his son’s smirked deepened as Gabriel felt Nooroo stir in his pocket, undoubtedly laughing. "You know, like a business meeting, only you talk about everything but business. Today, for example, you can discuss Emma and all the dominating the fashion scene plans you have for her.”

Gabriel cleared his throat and straightened. “Nathalie is my assistant, Adrien. You seem to forget that.”

“Marinette is my co-worker,” Adrien replied. “We’re married and we just had a baby.”

“That’s preposterous, Adrien. Why would you think that-”

“Oh, come on, Father,” Adrien urged. “Nathalie is like family - she’s waited for this as much as we all did, so I’m sure she’d love to celebrate Emma's birth. She deserved to celebrate. Give her an evening off, take her out, let her rest. She’s working way too hard for you every day. This could be your chance to repay her.”

The baby let out an irritated cry, rubbing her face against Marinette’s chest.

“I’d better go,” Gabriel rushed to say. “Your daughter looks hungry and she seems to have inherited your temper. I'll talk to you later. Get well soon, Marinette. Goodbye.”

Shiftily, Gabriel escaped out of the door before anyone can bid him farewell and immediately bumped into Tom.

“A boy or a girl?” Tom blurted out instantly.

“Wait! Don’t tell him,” Sabine intercepted. “Let him find out for himself. You’re almost there, Tom. Have patience.”

Gabriel stepped aside and held the door open. Sabine didn't wait long to get in and soon the pair of men heard her happy gushing about baby Emma.

“So a girl?” Tom asked, still standing in place, holding a few takeout packages and a tray with coffee cups.

“A girl.” Gabriel nodded. “Emma Agreste.”

“How- how does she look?” Tom swallowed.

“She’s-” Gabriel stilled for a second, thinking as to how better depict the tiny creature he’d just encountered, but the correct words escaped, his usually extensive vocabulary failing him at the moment, and he doubted that “Perfect” would be enough. “Why don't you go in and see her for yourself, Tom?” he gave up after a few moments.

“Yes. Right.” The man stirred and inhaled, nervously chuckling. “A bit nervous, you know. First grandchild and all.”

“Yes, I do know,” Gabriel mumbled. “You’ve told me that a few hundreds of times today already.”

“This is for you and Nathalie.” Tom offered him one of the packages and two coffee cups.

“Thank you.” Gabriel took the offering and continued to stand in his place since the other man didn't move as well.

“Tom, get in here.” Sabine peeked out of the door and nudged her husband inside.

“I’d better go,” Tom chuckled again. “See you around?”

“Yes.” Gabriel nodded and directed his sight to the hallway as soon as the pair disappeared into the room. Immediately, he spotted Nathalie a bit further down the hall speaking on her cell phone. His mind rushed back to Adrien’s suggestion. What an absurd idea he’d proposed! Why would he, Gabriel Agreste, take Nathalie out on a date? She was his assistant! Just his assistant and nothing more! Gabriel grunted and walked down the hall. Could it be that Nooro got to Adrien and now they were both conspiring against him? No. Absurd. Nooroo was always by his side.

Just like Nathalie.

Nathalie was by his side for so many years Gabriel had lost count now. She'd been there when he had just started ‘Gabriel.' She’d been there for him when he was trying to revive Emilie. She’d been there for Adrien when he wasn’t. She had left only to shake him to his senses. She might have saved his life and his family by that. In one thing Adrien was right - Nathalie was like family now. So maybe a dinner won’t hurt? Not a date, just a dinner between- let’s say old friends who happened to work together? He did just become a grandfather. He deserved to celebrate as well because that fussy tiny thing was sure to take the fashion industry by storm, bringing him honour and making the Agreste name even more well-known.

“We should celebrate, Nathalie,” Gabriel stated, settling in his car. “A healthy grandchild is a cause for celebration, no?”

“Of course, Gabriel. Where would you like to go?”

“I don’t care. You choose, Nathalie.”

“Alright. How does Le Meurice sound?”

“Acceptable.”

“Good. Your table is already booked for six.”

Gabriel looked at Nathalie. “You already booked it?”

“Nooroo dropped by a little earlier and said it’d be a good idea in case you’d like to celebrate.”

“Nooroo did?” Gabriel echoed, wondering how did he not notice his kwami slipping away. “What else did Nooroo tell you?”

“He suggested wearing the red dress you gave me for my birthday two years ago and the necklace from the year prior."

Gabriel hummed. Those two would go well together. It seemed that Nooroo had picked up good taste, after all, spending all those years in Gabriel’s presence. Or maybe it was the better-quality fabric he was lately snacking on that made him smarter? In any case-

“Good choice,” Gabriel nodded, petting the breast pocket of his jacket.

Little kwami inside chuckled, pleased. It took him quite a while, but slowly he was finally achieving every kwami’s goal - to lead their wielders to the best versions of them they could be. His Master hadn’t been perfect the day they met, and Nooroo doubted he’d ever be. But little by little this formerly obsessed-with-the-past, power-hungry madman was transforming into an acceptable if not a decent version of a father and a good, reasonable employer. It was Nooroo’s side project, but quite possibly, if the way the things were going, Gabriel would soon be a more or less adequate partner in a romantic relationship as well. The little kwami smiled to himself, nibbling on his Master’s silk handkerchief. The Guardian would be pleased, his brethren will be excited for him and he- seeing one of the most complicated humans he’d ever worked with to finally be happy again would be enough for Nooroo.

Thank you so much, guys, for reading Forbidden Love That Wasn't. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. A huge thank you to my friends @kryallaorchid and @edendaphne for putting up with my nonsense and tears and helping me make this story amazing.

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[ofaphrvdite]

silence ! raise the royal standard, for the duke of huéscar, ISANDRO DE TRASTÀMARA, has arrived. being 26 years old, he is sixth in line to the throne. many around the court call him the icarian, by virtue of him being suave and dynamic, while also being covetous and egotistical.  — played by sean teale.

- THE BASICS.

full name: isandro alonso de trastàmara name meaning: isandro ‘liberator’, alonso ‘noble and ready’ known in history as: the usurper king, the king who avenged aurelia: the little rose, light of the east date of birth: june 3rd, 1992/1639 age: twenty six star sign: gemini profession: junior investment banker (modern verse) / duke of huéscar, heir apparent to the dukedom of alba, grandee of spain (royal verse) loyalty: spain, house trastàmara, the entente, eventually france and house du bourbon through marriage alignment: chaotic neutral  mbti: esfj spoken languages:  english, spanish, advanced french, advanced mandarin, intermediate german (modern verse) / spanish, english, advanced french, advanced portuguese, advanced latin, intermediate german, basic italian (royal verse) mother’s name: eleanor de trastàmara nee. mendoza (deceased in both verses), fifty two. father’s name: alonso de trastàmara, sixty siblings, if any: half brother, pedro moctezuma, thirty. half sister, elena de trastàmara, twenty-nine. height: 6’1”  hair colour: black eye colour: brown

- BACKSTORY / MODERN VERSE.

there was little hope for isandro trastàmara developing any sense of ambition, as from his infancy he was taught nothing but how powerful his family was. ever since he was a baby, he had been raised by a hoard of the world’s best nannies - his own mother barely getting a look in. coming from a long line of incredibly successful bankers, and spanish nobility as his father loved to boast of, he was always provided with the very best that money could buy. he had everything he could ever want, resulting in a spoiled child who would grow into an entitled young man. and yet at every turn he was denied the only thing he craved - love. his father was always off on business trips, or with his latest flavour of the week, and his siblings were children all from different women, leaving the youngest of the brood alone in a home too large for a boy. in the turbulence of his childhood, there had been one sole grounding force, and that had been his mother. a woman who selflessly tried to devote as much time to her son as she possible could whilst her marriage self-destructed on the inside. there was no love between alonso and eleanor, only convenience. alonso had something pretty for his arm to make his ex wife seethe, and eleanor was able to stay in the country with her son. 

it was aged ten when isandro’s only chance of forming any real familial bonds disappeared. and thus any hope that he might be saved from the trappings of his father’s legacy. on a bright sunny afternoon both mother and son were on their way back from izzy’s rugby practice and stopped for ice cream as they did every sunday. had he not insisted on handing the money to the ice cream man himself, perhaps his mother would not have chased the change he had dropped with clumsy hands into the street. maybe then she could have avoided the motorcycle that had swerved round the corner and sent his mother flying into the nearest windscreen. the memories of that day are buried deep, trauma locked away, but isandro can still remembers the screams of horrified onlookers, the screeching sound as the motorcyclist had sped away and the feeling of panic like a vice around his heart. he remembers the funeral though. how so few of her family had been able to attend, and most there had been men in suits from his father’s work that had barely known her more than her feigned smile. men who had patted him on the back and offered empty condolences to a child in a suit too big for him that only wanted a moment alone with his mother to say goodbye.

following his mothers death, isandro’s father sent him away to boarding school to keep him out from underneath his feet - adding to isandro’s already growing belief that it was his fate to be abandoned. within a few short years he moved on to eton after a hefty donation from alonso to study alongside the country’s future leaders. each year he would return home less and less, and the older he got, the more debauched his behavior grew. summers were spent abroad skiing in the alps, private yachts in cannes and villas in santorini. his exploits made front page news in the tabloids at home due to his high profile inner circle. among his friends were distant claimants to the british throne, sons of politicians, daughters of millionaires - all children who knew the numbness of an abandoned childhood that had been thrown together because they shared the same postcode. 

oxford did little to settle his restless spirit despite all the threats from his father that he would be cut off. he had laughed in the man’s face. how could he ask for his lifestyle to be put aside, when it had been alonso who had flaunted the perks of it in his face for his entire life? his father had been no model citizen, certainly not a good husband nor parent, isandro could do nothing but mimic all he had ever known. throughout school he had always been told that he could do so much better - if only he applied himself. what was the point, he had asked, in trying when everything would always be handed to him anyway? complacency was the death of ambition afterall, and isandro was in no rush to leave behind the tornado that was his life. he would only be proven right when his acceptance letter for oxford had come in the post despite possessing none of the grades he needed. nepotism and a healthy donation to the great oxford library was all he’d really needed.

after graduation he had wandered europe for a year, as was the rite of passage for every child of the british upper class seeking to patronise all those lesser than them when they returned with tales of natives who lived such utterly simple lives. how else would they boast of how good a person they were if they hadn’t helped paint a school somewhere and then posted it all over the gram? he had put off his return for as long as possible, knowing a desk had already been reserved for him for the next forty years of his life. something he wasn’t eager to begin.

eventually his fathers patience could be pushed no further and he had begrudgingly returned to the uk and his new ( and so very exciting ) position as a junior investment banker in his father’s branch where he has remained ever since. the man is still as restless as ever, out every weekend and blowing his salary on ridiculous purchases. he hardly ever speaks to his family unless he utterly has to, most of their interactions now taking place at events that require a strong family presence. they all want their share of inheritance when dear old dad dies afterall. the only difference now is that he’s beginning to realise how meaningless his life really is, getting to an age where he’s beginning to wonder if he’s really just wasting the time he’s been given. ever since he was a child he’s only ever wanted to feel wanted, and that is perhaps the only thing in the world he can’t have.

- BACKSTORY / ROYAL VERSE.

it speaks volumes to his character that isandro de trastàmara was born third and youngest to his father, and yet it was he who would inherit the grandest title in spain below actual royalty. he had done little to earn the privileges in his life, and would grow to be a selfish and egocentric man - so expectant for good things as he had been bestowed them with no effort since birth. his eldest brother was born a bastard to his father’s mistress, and although he favoured pedro ( always so clever, so sensible, so very boring ), he was a brother to the crown. a prince in his own right. he would not deface the family name by legitimising him, and setting a dangerous precedent for someone so close to the throne. his first wife only bore him disappointment with a daughter and died in childbirth - leaving him still without a legitimate heir and now wifeless.

in his years abroad he met a young woman from a minor venezuelan noble family, awarded titles by the crown for their loyalties. she had been young and naive when brought to court for the king’s blessing, something he had begrudgingly granted, but soon discovered she was unwanted by spain. she was not of their country, not one of them, and yet it was the son she birthed that would seize so much power, who would be a cousin to the future rulers of spain. her life was a miserable one, none of the other highborn ladies would dare invite her into their society, leaving her lonely and isolated from her family. it was her son isandro who became her guiding light.

eleanor did her best to instill kindness and a decent moral compass in her son, knowing her husband would be attempting to warp him as best he could to bend to his will as she had. perhaps she may have succeeded and the future duke of alba would have been ruled by a good heart rather than bitterness and ruthless ambition. alas it was not meant to be, and her departure would serve only to darken him for many years before she was to be his guide in return.

isandro was only four years old when his mother was found murdered in the streets. her guards had abandoned her in favour of their lives and a small mob had claimed her life. though there were whispers it had been organised by someone higher up to look like an accident. he had been too young to understand why then, but the older he grew the more the need for vengeance had taken root in his heart. the king, his uncle, had done little to seek justice for his mother. and his father had not sought for it either. it had been an inconvenience at best but she was of no great loss to them when all was said and done. 

and so isandro had grown up surrounded by nannies and tutors, no family to care for him. his elder brother too envious of missing out on a title he felt he deserved more, and his sister ambivalent towards her half brother, too caught up in the problems of her own life. his resentment grew against his cousins and the crown, festering over the years into something impossible to contain. when his cousin had succeeded the throne and began her reign of terror he had been more intent than ever that this must end. they had shared the same goal, and wished for spain to be as glorious as it always had been - but there was vast difference in their methods. he watched as his cousin’s bride charlotte was treated as a hostage for the entirety of her marriage, and then her pregnancy. as underhand deals left the foundations of greece unstable. murdering loved ones just to shake other rulers. and all under the guise of peace negotiations. so many innocent trampled that even he found no satisfaction in it, no matter how much it furthered spain’s plans.

he was by far not a good man. he had lied and cheated, feigned injury to escape from a war whilst men died for their country. had left a string of broken hearts behind him, leading women on before leaving them ruined. his behaviour was nothing short of selfish and reckless, and his father greatly disapproved. how could he trust his title to a son he didn’t believe had the responsibility to possess it? but alonso had always known how to bend others to his will, and isandro was no difference. threatening to cut his son off, he promised he would not see an ounce of his inheritance until he married a respectable bride. he had hoped this might settle the restless soul brewing in his son, and distract him from ideas of revenge he knew lay in wait.

unfortunately for alonso ( a blessing to isandro ) he won the hand of princess marguerite of france. a grand match to be sure, but two kindred spirits when it came to settling down. their’s was a betrothal of convenience for them both. isandro had no issues spoiling her as she deserved to be, and in turn he would get his inheritance. if anything, she fed into his ambition to take the crown from his cousins, to make spain what he thought it should be, and to give his future wife the throne she deserved. he had no wish to tame her, he much preferred a challenge, a partner that would push him. and she took no issue with his grey morality and less than sparkling record.

he is not at versailles to help bring about peace for europe. he doesn’t care if the continent tears itself in two, for he knows that spain will withstand it all. though he plays the part of dutiful noble, he is eager to secure support for his rapidly increasing coup. though he pretends it’s for selfish means, for revenge for his mother, there is an element of redemption to his cause. for so long he had sat idly by while innocents suffered at the hand of his queen, his family, and it had blackened his heart. perhaps he is not smart enough to wear the crown, and his morality is too confused to ever be a just ruler - but he is confident enough that his rule would be a kinder one than the tyranny currently subjected to them. 

[aibidil]

2017 Drarry Fics that Changed the World

This is not a 2017 “best-of” or “favorites” list, but rather a list to highlight some of the amazing ways that the Drarry fandom has been tackling important issues this year. It’s been exciting to watch and I’m so eager to see what everyone will come up with next. (Many of these fics fit more than one category, so the categorization is a bit random in places.)

Race/Ethnicity and PoC Representation

Changing Tides by @carpemermaidtales for HD-Erised: Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life. Instead of doing what’s expected of him fifth year, he joins Dumbledore’s Army and learns how to defend himself, how to make his own choices, and how he can be something greater than his father’s example as he grows into his own man rather than his father’s shadow. The choices he makes change both his and Harry’s fates, intertwining their paths until they converge. Through tackling the cultural implications of PoC Harry, MA explores Harry coming to terms with his identity as an orphan without connection to his family.

Dear Enemy by @gingertodgers: An anonymous benefactor makes a generous donation to Harry Potter's School for Squibs in exchange for a weekly letter from the Boy Who Lived. What begins as a chore soon becomes the only outlet Harry has to talk about the war, love, life, hope, redemption, his renewed obsession with a certain blonde nemesis and how he really, honestly, believes that this will be the year Puddlemere United reclaim the Quidditch League Cup. Dear Enemy features diversity in every sense of the word and PoC that don't feel tokenised. And Draco, whose whiteness is always highlighted, having a mixed-race son whom he adores is especially exciting.

Hogwarts Crammer by @waspabi: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work. Waspabi’s Hogwarts Crammer is compelling from start to finish, and features PoC Harry and Hermione.

Tales from the Special Branch by @femmequixotic: When Gawain Robards asks him to form Special Branch seven-four-alpha, Harry Potter knows they'll have to work outside the confines of the law--even though they are the law. Tales from the Special Branch is amazing for lots of reasons, including PoC representation and Jewish Pansy! 

Wild by @seefin: “No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.” Wild is a great story with lots of non-standard magic and PoC Harry.

Body Diversity and Fat Positivity

A Matter of Opinion by @goldentruth813: Harry and Draco have been together for over a decade with a life of happiness and memories to look back upon, but when one story in the Prophet questions their relationship, Draco finds the insecurity it weaves threatening to destroy everything they've built. GoldenTruth tells an amazing story of Draco coming to terms with his changing body as he learns to move past his insecurities.

The Words We Say by @agentmoppet: Harry knows with certainty that he and Draco Malfoy are in love. Until one day, he doesn't, and then the only thing he knows is that he is losing him. A companion piece to A Matter of Opinion, and another great look at the story.

The Things We Did and Didn’t Do by @gingertodgers: Harry is due back from visiting Hermione and Ron in Australia, 3 months after finally spending the night with Draco. It's time to DTR. Chubby!Harry and discussion of how body changes can cause anxieties about a relationship.

Age

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, 75 Years of the Golden Couple by @gingertodgers: The epic love story of Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy, narrated for the Daily Prophet (Or the Quibbler) from their rocky start at Hogwarts, to the fighting in opposite sides during the War, to the rebuilding, to the marriage/partnership until their old age. I would love something about the "big picture" of Harry/Draco's relationship, from 11 years old to 110 years old! Another great one from GingerTodgers looking at the long-run of a relationship.

Night Changes by @writcraft: Draco and Harry have spent years dancing around one another, but Potter’s straight and married. Until one day he isn’t. This lovely fic has older, well-rounded characters who are still figuring life out.

Disability

Balance, Imperfect by @bixgirl1: When Harry sustains an injury in the line of work, he no longer knows how to navigate the life he loved, and finds help and solace from the most unexpected source. Balance is great because it consciously and tactfully tackles the mental health aspects of a disability and allows Harry to finally work through his trauma.

Mental Health

What We Pretend We Can’t See by gyzym: Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought. My love for this fic knows no bounds, and anxious and obsessive Draco is one of the reasons. “You do understand that it’s not — that I’ll always be this person, don’t you? That you’re not going to calm me down with sex?”

Quiet by @silveredglass: Draco is alone in the Slytherin dorms until Harry starts coming to visit. Silv’s fic is amazingly sweet and atmospheric, tackling healing from war trauma.

The Malfoy Conudrum by Omi_Ohmy for HD-Erised: Harry’s miserable living with his memories at Grimmauld Place, so after a chance meeting he takes the opportunity to move somewhere new. His housemates, though, are rather unexpected. Especially the blond, pointy one… A great fic that deals well with depressed Harry.

Heartache by @bixgirl1: "Harry doesn't think about Malfoy anymore. Not really. Not intentionally. What if the one person you least expect is the only one who really understands what you've gone through? This 8th year fic deals with PTSD.

Queer and LGBT Issues 

Adventures in Solitude (Are You There, Sirius? It’s Me, Draco) by @oceaxereturns for HD-Erised: Draco is grateful to have had Sirius’ portrait to confide in all those years ago, about his sexuality and unwanted feelings for a classmate named Harry. But when he gets the portrait out of storage after twenty years, the secrets he has kept from Sirius all along come out. Secrets about Draco’s role in the war... and secrets about Harry Potter. This fic does an incredible job of capturing teenage sexuality crisis and putting it into perspective later in life.

Out and the Open by @henrymercury: The war is over, and Draco finally has the courage to decide who she is. The war is over, and Harry finally has the freedom to decide what she likes. Trans!Draco and poly dynamics.

The Light that is Blinding Me by Leontina for HD-Erised: After Flourish and Blotts stop stocking the books of Harry’s favourite author, he is directed to a queer bookshop and discovers it’s owned by none other than Draco Malfoy, who has more in common with Harry than either of them realise. MA wrote this incredible, heartwarming fic that uses queer spaces and queer life as a setting; it is completely fluffy and romantic and 100% a love story with a happy ending; AND YET it also addresses all the nastiness in the political world—hate crimes, homophobia—and has the characters in the world, in public, engaging in it all. 

The Only True Goal of the Universe by punk_rock_yuppie: It comes up, as most juvenile things do, in a game of Truth or Dare. An 8th year fic featuring trans!Draco.

Gender, Consent, and Sex

Embers by @shiftylinguini: Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice. Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter. Groundbreaking AOB that subverts standard power dynamics and trope-standard ideas about consent and restraint.

Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love by @aibidil: A group of wizards' rights activists retaliate against the Ministry after Hermione Granger wages a campaign to outlaw love potions. The group invents a sexual assault potion that throws the Ministry into chaos and starts a debate about the horror of magic’s role in sexual assault. Auror Harry Potter, Potions expert Draco Malfoy, Senior Undersecretary Hermione Granger, and Wheezes’ love potion expert Ron Weasley are assigned to the case. As they pursue the attackers and navigate the murky legal nature of consent, Harry and Draco are forced to confront their own desires. I feel like an ass reccing my own fic, but I was told to include it. Consent! Love potions! Feminism! Political debates! 

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood by @agentmoppet and @decanthrope: Harry's used to finding distractions to avoid studying, but propositioning Malfoy to get rid of the pesky problem of their virginity is on a whole new level, even for him. This story is incredible for realistic sex, safe sex, awkward sex!

You and Me by @bixgirl1: When Harry sits down with Malfoy, he's really only looking for a reprieve from the constant stares and whispers. (Mostly.) What he gets instead are a series of strange events that lead to a friendship that is something else, questions that nobody knows how to answer, and the realisation that the person that Harry doesn't know how to hate, anymore, seems to be the person who knows exactly what he needs. A story in which everything is complicated. And yet, somehow, none of it is. A really fantastic story involving serious kink negotiation.

Family Dynamics

Shibboleths by @lol-zeitgeistic for HD-Erised: Muggle Immersion co-Professor Harry Potter spends his days hanging with his son, reading to his "dog," teaching magical kids about the internet with his cousin Dudley, and irritating Snape’s portrait. He’s understandably annoyed when his cosy life is interrupted by the Headmistress hiring on Draco Malfoy to be Hogwarts’ new Ancient Magical Cultures and Spellcasting professor. But then the explosion happens, and it turns out they'll all need Malfoy's knowledge if they want the magical world to survive. Shibboleths is awesome for one million reasons, but one thing I love about it is the family dynamics: seriously enviable group parenting of children (Mum Three!), deep exploration of Dursley family issues, etc.

Walking on the Air by @frnklymrshnkly: In which Molly won't stop themeing Christmas Eve and Harry has a rebellious streak. I can’t get over the family that frnkly paints here. Harry/Draco live in a townhouse with Astoria/Ginny/Luna to raise their children together. I want to live in this fic.

Poly Dynamics

Electric Light by @seefin His gloves are from last year and the left one has a small tear in the charmed leather that he has to keep out of sight of Professor Sprout, who would go into a whole lecture on health and safety if she saw it, and then insist he wore a pair from the lost and found bucket in the corner of her mouldy old office. Seefin writes this gorgeous little story that brings out the H/D/N relationship so incredibly well.

Electric Violet by @henrymercury: "If I could go back and tell my past self," Draco says, as he hasn't stopped saying yet and presumably never will, "that one day Harry Potter would present me with a large purple dildo..." He trails off, apparently unable to describe quite what the outcome of this hypothetical interaction would be. "Harry wins," Neville wheezes, "it's too good. It's just," Nev stops because he's laughing too hard again, "Harry, did you think we didn't have enough dicks between us already, or something?" I rec this fic constantly because it is so incredibly funny, but it’s also a wonderful exploration of a three-person relationship and henrymercury really highlights the way they each offer the other something unique.

Claiming of Grimmauld Place by @bixgirl1 for HD-Erised: When Grimmauld Place begins fighting against Harry’s ownership of it, he decides he needs help to train the historic home — but little does he expect that it’ll be Malfoy who’s most suitable for the challenge. However, as Malfoy and Harry get closer, Harry comes to understand that expectations aren’t always the best path by which to guide his heart — and in the process learns just what is needed to make a house a home. This fic is mostly great for other reasons, but it has a really lovely development of Luna/Pansy/Ginny as a side relationship, poly side ships being a trend in a lot of recent Drarry fic.

[missymarysthings]

Reaching a Limit

Lorena Casey Stellato. Head of the Stellato Clan’s business matters, and slatted to be main adviser to the next head of the family when the time comes. Also known within the clan as Medusa Stellato. 

Current status? 

Waking down the aisle and completely fed up with her current life. 

She hates the dress, hates the venue, and hates the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle. None of it was chosen by her. Her dress? Her mother’s doing. The venue? Chosen by the groom’s family. The groom himself? Chosen by her father and is what is hated the most.

Speaking of her father, if that man could even be truly considered a father in anything but a biological sense, she could feel a slight coldness emanating from him as he walked her down the aisle. It was a clear ‘Don’t you dare ruin this!’ sign from him that was about to be completely discarded. 

While everyone else had been busy planning this blasted wedding and ‘partial merger’ of clans for the past two years, she was planning something of her own. They did not ask for her input on anything. She had no choice in any matter of this forced marriage. At first she tried to voice her opinions and objections. Try to get them to see this was not as good as they thought it was going to be.

However, they refused to listen.  

Not even the fiance. 

But then, Medusa supposed it was no real surprise. That man her father chose for her did not really respect her. Belittled her and her accomplishments. Seemed to just barely believe that she was a very intelligent woman. She knew he wasn’t really marrying her. He was marrying the family. She was just the way to bring their families together, for him to be in the favor of her father. 

Fine. She was accustomed to only being seen as a tool or means to something else as it was. Her father, Vincent, never truly saw her as a daughter anyway. Had she not proved that she had an sharp mind and intelligence, or a knack for doing business related things...

She knows she wouldn’t be here right now. He would have tried to have a son to replace her and she would have been tossed out, or sold off somewhere, or even killed. And her mother would have let him. 

But Medusa was finally tired of all of it. This...farce of a wedding and the engagement leading up to it was the last straw. 

They didn’t want her to be part of the planning for it? Fine. She could just continue to handle business matters...and plan her escape. Or death. Even that was more preferable. Her health wasn’t the greatest lately anyway. Still, every moment she was on her own that wasn’t being taken up by her duties...she was doing something to get away from it all

Finding someone to get the ring off of her right pinky and make an exact duplicate of it. Finding someone else to enchant it to mimic the it’s effects but allow herself to be able to remove it. That had been first and foremost. And that alone almost...ended everything. Having her powers finally released after being sealed away by her father and that blasted ring for so long, it was overwhelming. She barely recalls what had happened throughout that day except at the ed when she had put the fake ring on and later went home and explained away her exhaustion by saying she had done a lot of work. And had several files and records she could use to back up her claim she she had done a lot of work related things that day as well. 

After that it was trying to practice in secret when she could to learn her powers and control them. Learning the layout of the surrounding lands around her home and around the venue where the ceremony was going to take place. Taking notes of paths she could run or places she could hide. Finding caves she could possibly reshape even slightly to help her. Practicing making illusions that matched these areas well enough to be convincing. 

And still working hard enough and doing other things so no one would suspected that she was plotting something. Covering her tracks and planning everything well enough to reduce being caught in the act. 

She had to follow through with everything until the last possible moment. Or else it wouldn’t work. But it would be worth it. Worth it to finally escape being manipulated, controlled, underappreciated, and miserable. She would no longer have to be wary of her memories being tampered with, or her father’s punishments and ‘motivational’ tactics. 

One way or another, she would be free.

“Lorena...this is the part where you say I do. This what the rehearsals were for. Are you even paying attention?” the groom’s slightly harsh whispers brought her back to the moment. Everything else had been on auto-pilot after her father had brought her to the alter. Now was the true moment. “You look a bit pale...did those incompetent helpers tie your corset too tight? Is that why you can focus right now. Tsk. I’ll deal with them later,” he continued. She didn’t answer. “Afraid to admit it? Or you don’t want them getting in trouble? You women...”

“You are an inconsiderate bastard, and I never wanted this marriage in the first place,” Medusa said, and loud enough for everyone attending to hear. She took off the engagement ring and threw it soundly on the ground between them. “I do not and will not take you as my husband! Ever. There is no love between us. You do not even respect me. It will not work and all it is-at it’s heart-is a scam both you and my father are trying to play against each other. And I will no longer play any part of it!” she declared and, lifting up part of her dress slightly, began to run for the exit. 

However, as she reached the doors a wall of ice blocked her. She turned slightly to see her father standing, his eyes glowing faintly with a scowl on his face, looking her way. “This is a bad time to be having second doubts Lorena,” he scolded without raising his voice. “You’re clearly not feeling well. Take a few deep breaths and then come finish the ceremony. Then you can have some time to rest before you come back for the reception. And then you will feel so silly about how you are acting right now,” he continued. 

Medusa did not falter. She knew he was angrier than this. He was just doing damage control, so that he did not look bad. She knew very well what would happen if she went back and did as she was told. She would not be herself after she ‘rested’. But she was done with this, and she had an advantage. 

“No. I know very well what I am doing and saying. I am not just speaking or behaving oddly because of illness. I am done with the abuse I have suffered because of the family, and what I stand to face should I go through with this unwanted marriage that I had absolutely no say in until now.” she said back. She then made a deliberate show of taking off the fake ring that subdued her powers. 

Medusa almost laughed at the shock and flare of anger that shown on her father’s face. She dropped the ring and her own eyes began to glow. “From now on I will be my own woman, or die trying,” she said before pointing at the ice wall and shattering it with a spike of stone. “Goodbye.”

Once more she lifted her dress slightly and took off running. Raising her own wall of stone behind her. She cared not about the shouts and sudden talking that arose. No doubt full of confusion and outrage and other things. She just had to run. Get to one of the places she had scouted out before they caught up to her and tried to drag her back. 

When Medusa made it to the forest that was near by she quickly went to the first place she had mentally noted. Wasting no time she grabbed a sharp rock and started tearing into the dress to get out of it. She had some satisfaction destroying the dress but she could not relish in it either. Once she could get out of it she threw it down and tossed aside the heels she was wearing. Leaving her in just the corset and undergarments. 

She grabbed the outfit she had stashed nearby but paused a moment. It sounded like some kind of commotion in the distance and it worried her. She quickly threw on the light burgundy jacket and matching skirt, leaving the blouse behind and not bothering to button the jacket, before slipping into the flat dress shoes she had. She could not risk trying to put on the blouse as it had buttons as well. It was perhaps the one folly of her planning. Either way, she took off running once more before the sounds could get closer. At least now she could move faster than before. 

However, her health, and the corset, took its toll on her sooner than she hoped it would. She knew she would not be able to make it to her next spot without collapsing. So Medusa went to the nearest cluster of trees, put herself in a decent spot within them that was lightly hidden and curled up on the ground. 

The next part she was nervous about. She was always nervous when she practiced it. But it was an option she had to use. She would not be able to sustain an illusion for long enough. She took a few deep breaths before creating a stone oval around her. It was just big enough to fit her, but it had to be small enough to be convincing. It had to look like it belonged there. The outside looked rough and weathered, but on the inside for her it was smooth and had a few little holes so air could come in. 

This was it. 

Either she could hide long enough for them to pass by or give up...

or she had just created her own tomb.

And for now all she could do was think of the one boy she saw when she was little that she can’t really remember. Maybe she had actually met him briefly. She wasn’t sure anymore. Medusa knew her memories of him, and of the event had been tampered with, and being older now did not help either. All she could say for certain was that it was a gathering of some clans. She had been dragged along by her parents. And this one boy had captured her attention for one reason or another. 

But she could never stray too far from her parents. And she thinks the boy had brothers. Maybe she didn’t meet him but had heard someone else say his name? Medusa wishes she could get those memories back. Maybe then she would know if she had crossed paths with the boy again since then. If she knew him now without realizing it. 

Medusa supposed it did not matter now. Even if she wonders these things. Wonders what that boy grew up to be, if he was married, or other things...she may not make it out of this situation alive. 

And even if she did...it may be too risky to find out anyway.