#All hail Queen Ruby!

[pillbuggaboo]

The imprisoned Ex-Queen Scarlet

[claymoresword]

The Queen And Her Knight | Chp: 7

Alicent Hightower x Knight Fem!Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower against her better judgement, falls in love with her sworn protector. Can she bear to fight her feelings or will she finally just give in?

Wordcount: 4.2k

Pairing: Alicent x Reader

Warnings: power imbalance, angst, fluff, smut, fingering, g!p reader, dialogue heavy, mentions of alcoholism

Note: you asked and after a year i finally delivered! this one definitely moves the plot forward but i also managed to get carried away with the smut somehow lol. if you wish to skip it just keep a lookout for the asterisks

enjoy!

Taglist: @blackbirdv98 @flaiire1805 @alicentfangirl @memarrymilf @thegayassbit-ch @vantestark @hauntedfictionland @livinginafantasysposts @baddie-on-a-mission-xx @evolutionsglory @darthtargnister @dxrewclf @rozmrazaradelfinow @wlwfanfictionss @karsonromanoff

You hold up the crown for all to see. The aged relic is a circlet of valyrian steel, set with blood-red rubies. Although only few remained, the squared cut gemstones were still a captivating sight to regard nonetheless.

The crown was once worn by Aegon The Conqueror – it seems fitting that it now be passed down to his namesake. 

The dragon pit is engulfed in trepidation enough to stifle, as you gently place the crown upon Aegon's head.

It fits like a glove. A reassuring and altogether unsettling prospect.

“Let the Seven bear witness, Aegon Targaryen, is the true heir to the Iron Throne.” A declaration that rattles the silence. Your voice travels far, it ricochets off the towering walls and high ceilings.

You watched as the High Septon assisted the King back onto his feet before bowing at him in respect. 

Your hand firmly resting on the hilt of your sword as you incline your head the same way when Aegon glances at you.

As he shifts his stare toward his mother, Alicent performs a curtsey. Followed by the same from Helaena. 

Aemond holds his older brother's gaze for a moment before inclining his head in respect as well.

“All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second Of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord Of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” The High Septon announces as Aegon turns to face the mass of people watching the ceremony.

“Aegon the king!” You call out, and soon the crowd erupts, loud bursts of shouts and claps, all celebrating their new king.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

While you stood in the dowager queen's bedchambers, your expression twists incredulously as Alicent endlessly fusses at your breastplate. Soon, moving behind you to fasten your white cloak.

“Your Grace, I can manage this on my own, truly.” You insist once more, feeling rather queer. A queen should not be tending to you, in fact it ought to be the opposite. 

Alicent remains determined, and stubborn.

“Hush.” She scolds, and you say nothing else.

“There we are.” She says, smoothing out your green tunic. After accepting the post as Lord Commander, you have since abandoned your own house colors. 

Even the breastplate you have chosen for today was a foreign one, no longer the golden kraken, now intricately carved with the sigil of House Hightower instead. 

Uncanny as it may be, you could not deny that it was beautifully made, and generally easier on the eyes compared to your old armor, it also fits far more comfortably.

You catch Alicent's eyes upon you, now suddenly feeling exposed, by the way she was observing your frame. 

Shameless and brazen; you can't help the way it stirs something within you.

“Alicent.” You snatch her attention abruptly, forcing back your amusement.

“Hm?” The dowager queen replies, lost for a moment. It seems she only realizes she has been caught when your eyes meet. A visible blush rapidly creeps up to her face in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“You seem to be eyeing me like a meal to devour.” You point out, causing Alicent to avert her gaze entirely from embarrassment.

Gods, how desperately you wish to kiss her right now.

“You look exceptional in green,” The queen utters, her hand slips up your forearm.

In truth, her admittance doesn't surprise you. 

Fascinating how she can be transparent one moment and entirely unreadable the next. 

This notion alone draws you in beyond reason. With Alicent, you are always acting on pure desire and instinct. 

She has completely enchanted you.

“Is that right?” You ask regardless, moving closer.

Alicent nods, her bottom lip set in between her teeth. The sight of her like this always drove you mad with the urge to ravage her here and now. 

The older woman instinctively slips her arms around your neck. It takes all of your control to only place a hand on the small of her back and nowhere else, trailing tender kisses along her jaw.

“Do you enjoy seeing me in armor, Your Grace?” You whisper. 

As you part her hair away from her neck, you allow your lips to meet the shell of her ear. Relishing in the way Alicent trembles at your touch.

“I do, very much.” She answers, and as you pull away, Alicent does quite the opposite, leaning in to capture your lips with her own. 

Open-mouthed and eager, she kisses you with enough fervor and passion to leave you aching for more.

You can hardly help the way your hand slips lower to squeeze her rear, pulling her flush against your groin.

Alicent gasps into your mouth at the sensation, now feeling the bulge in your breeches. 

She kisses you once more before pulling away, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck to hide her flushed expression.

“Lord Commander.. you are being terribly indecent.” The queen's tone betrays a playfulness, one that exhilarates you.

“I cannot help it, my queen. You drive me half-mad with want.” You remark, as your hand slides up her back in a languid manner.

Alicent exhales against your neck. She pulls you in even closer, welcoming your touch.

“Be safe today.. return to me in one piece.” The other woman utters, you meet her brown eyes, warm and enticing.

“If the Gods will it, I shall.” Your response is likely less than reassuring, but the dowager queen does not say anything to confront this.

Alicent merely occupies herself by tracing along your features delicately with her thumb. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, unable to hide the smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, basking in the attention she is giving you.

“Kiss me again.” You ask, and the queen moves to do exactly that, but a knock on the door causes Alicent to abruptly pull away, resuming a proximity.

The suddenness of her action nearly knocks the wind out of you and your smile quickly dissipates. 

It aches, in truth, having to sneak around like this. You mislike feeling like a dirty secret– the queen's mistress.

Or perhaps her whore.

“Come.” Alicent calls, she composes herself as she straightens out her gown. A heartbeat before her father enters.

Alicent's demeanor shifts in a way you have been privy to in the past. It appears effortless the way her expression sets impassively, her hands clasped firmly over her stomach.

Now she is queen Alicent, again. No longer the woman you had been kissing just moments prior.

Otto has his jaw tightened in a similar fashion, studying you in a way that forces you to shift uncomfortably, despite yourself. “Lord Commander, it is time for us to depart.” He finally utters.

You nod, reaching for your sword belt. “Very good, m’lord.” 

As you fastened the belt upon yourself, you observed as Alicent retrieved what appears to be a piece of parchment from her bedside table. The dowager hands it over to her father, whispering something to him that is intelligible to your ears. 

Even as you move slightly closer under the guise of arming your steel, you are still unable to make out the sudden, and evidently secretive conversation being had between them.

You vow to sate your curiousity and confront Alicent about this later; after you have successfully delivered terms to princess Rhaenyra.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Your arrival at Dragonstone was expectedly greeted with nothing but asperity– the threat of blood shed felt imminent as you stood on the bridge.

Your army, alongside Otto's, staring down the few men who remain loyal to the Rogue Prince.

Rhaenyra Targaryen has evidently fashioned these men to act as her newly appointed Queensguard.

The notion of an agonizing death looms over all of you as her large dragon remained perched a few feet away. 

Syrax is silent– as if she possessed the capacity to understand the situation at hand.

You could sense the ground beneath you rumble every time the dragon took a breath, sending a never ending chill down your spine.

“You all are traitors to the realm.” Queen Rhaenyra declares, her late father's golden crown perched upon her head.

“King Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, in his wisdom and desire for peace, is offering terms. Confess Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne.” Otto pauses, and Rhaenyra only acknowledges the statement with a scowl, before a hardened expression takes over her features once more.

You observed as Daemon scoffed. His grip on his steel continued to advise you to keep a firm hold on your own sword.

“In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your true born son Jacaerys upon your death.” The Hand offers, generous in any other circumstance– if it was not Rhaenyra's birthright that has been stolen from her.

“Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Driftmark, and all the lands and holding of house Velaryon.”

“Your sons by prince Daemon, will also be given places of high honor at court. Aegon the younger as the king's squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the king in his good grace will pardon any knight or Lord who conspired against his ascent.” Otto finishes, and the rogue prince is quick to retaliate.

“I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken usurper cunt of a king.” Daemon sneers, yet you notice Otto's resolve, he remains unfazed, confident.

One you utterly lacked, in truth. You kept an eye on a second dragon, red and much larger than Syrax, orbiting the sky.

“Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the conqueror's crown, wields the conqueror's sword, has the conqueror's name. He was anointed by a Septon of the Faith before the eyes of thousands. Every single symbol of legitimacy belongs to him.” Otto claims, unwavering.

This works to agitate Rhaenyra enough, her Lord husband appears more than prepared to behead any one of you currently standing before him.

“Then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Houses who have also received and are at present, considering generous terms from their king.” The Hand adds salt to an already gaping wound.

“Stark, Tully and Baratheon have all sworn allegiance to me. As have your House, y/n.” Rhaenyra states, addressing you directly, taking you by surprise for a moment before you found the sense to meet her hard stare.

As you remain silent, Rhaenyra continues.

“I understand if you don't recall, you were still suckling at your mother's teats when your father bent the knee.” The Targaryen remarks, whether intended as a jab to your pride, it matters not, as you refuse to feel it.

“But he swore his allegiance to me, nonetheless.”

You shift your weight from one foot to another, hand resting on the pommel of your sword. “I am not here on my father's behalf.” You respond curtly.

“Then who are you here for?” Daemon inquires, he quickly continues before you can conjure a reply.

“Are you so cunt-stricken by that whore you call your queen that you are willing to abandon a sworn oath? Where is your honor?” He taunts, and this time you do feel it, like a lance to the gut.

You open your mouth to respond, but Otto quickly interjects before things get the chance to escalate further.

“Grand Maester.” He calls, extending his arm. Maester Orwyle then passes him a piece of parchment, the same one that you had witnessed Alicent give to her father in her bedchambers.

Your confusion sets in once more as Otto bravely advances forward, passing the same parchment to Rhaenyra.

The queen, in her fury, snatches it from Otto, unfolding it to discover its contents. 

It was only then you noticed that it was not a letter– rather, an illustration. A page torn from a book.

“What the fuck is this?” Daemon curses, ironically sharing your sentiment.

Rhaenyra remained silent as she stared at the page in her hands, her expression still unreadable.

“Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. She eagerly awaits your answer.” Otto utters, and your face falls once you recognize the tears that escaped Rhaenyra's eyes. 

A sinking feeling that you've been trying to set aside all day, re-emerges, inexplicably, you reach for your sword.

“She can have her answer now stuffed in her father's mouth, along with his withered cock. Let's end this mummer's farce.” The rogue prince hisses, as he unsheathes his steel, you immediately do the same. 

In the next few moments the noise of metal scraping against scabbard charges the air as the rest of your soldiers along with Daemon's draw their weapons.

“Ser Erryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure of killing him myself.” The prince consort's command is broken by the sound of Syrax shrieking, flailing her body violently.

You flinch, but do your best to ignore the incessant pounding in your chest as you gripped your sword tighter.

Then, by a miracle, Rhaenyra subdues her uncle with a single word. “No.” She declares, Daemon is forced to set down his sword. He does it begrudgingly, and you slowly do the same.

“King's Landing will have my answer on the morrow.” The queen utters sharply before turning away, disappearing through her guards.

You stand frozen in place. 

Somehow, no blood was spilled today. The simple prospect of Alicent's care for Rhaenyra seemed enough for the Targaryen to forsake her own claim to the throne.

It appears you shall return to Alicent safely, as she asked. You should be relieved, and yet you feel nothing of the sort. 

The thought of the dowager queen welcoming you home, with a warm embrace, doesn't fill you with a sense of joy like it usually would.

It only makes you ill.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Since returning to the Red Keep you had chosen to keep away, sequestered in your quarters. Only your thoughts and a flagon of strongwine to keep you company.

You realize that you ought to visit Alicent, assure her of your safety, but still, you couldn't bear it, not today. 

Endlessly replaying the moment in your head, Otto's words pollute your thoughts.

Alicent has not forgotten the love she once held for Rhaenyra, that much is evident.

So where does that leave you? 

You are no longer certain you even possess a space in Alicent's life, let alone in her heart.

She loves Rhaenyra, and you are only a mistress.

You wipe away your tears, it is no use crying, you are simply mourning a fantasy. Queen Alicent is beyond your reach, she always has been.

As you continued to lose the battle to your anxieties, you fail to hear the main door of your bedchambers creaking as it gets pushed open.

Alicent catches you throwing your head back as you emptied the contents of your goblet. Her expression displaying palpable concern as she approaches you.

“Why are you drinking?” She inquires, and you scramble to your feet, perplexed in the way she somehow managed to enter your chambers without you realizing it.

“Your Grace.” You address her, inclining your head as you propped your hand against the back of the chair.

Alicent appears taken aback by your formality, nonetheless she moves to touch your cheek, but halts immediately when she notices the way you recoiled.

“What is the matter?” The older woman asks carefully, studying you with such concern that it weakens your very being.

How could she possibly place you above Rhaenyra Targaryen?

“I was convinced that I was going to die at Dragonstone.” Your voice breaks.

“But you did not, thank the Gods.” Alicent utters in relief, she grabs your arm, still unaware of your true grievance.

“The only reason my men and I were spared was because Rhaenyra commanded it as such.” You state, pausing for a moment to steady your breathing. 

“and, she only did so because of you.” You accuse, and Alicent straightens her back, retracting her hand once more.

You mourn her touch, but force yourself to look into her eyes as you await a response.

When nothing comes, you decide to speak again.

“Do you love her?” You ask boldly, prepared for any response, but the one Alicent gives you is barely anything at all.

“I–” She stutters after a prolonged silence, and you scoff, moving past her to sit on the edge of your bed.

Alicent takes large strides after you, eager to explain herself. 

“Rhaenyra and I, we were children together, we did everything together. She was my closest friend.” The dowager queen starts as she moves to stand directly in front of you.

“Perhaps I was in love, at one point. But that was an entirely different lifetime, y/n. A life I do not even recognize.” She admits, and you finally look up at her.

Alicent tentatively wipes away the tear that managed to escape your eye. 

Despite yourself, your lips meet the palm of her hand as you hold it close to your face.

The dowager queen smiles.

“I am in love with you. Only you.” Alicent reassures, and your heart soars. Whether it is a lie to spare your feelings or a vulnerable truth, you are still thankful she cares enough to utter the words.

For now, that is enough.

“I love you too, so much.” You respond, still gazing up at her.

Alicent's auburn locks fell loosely down her shoulders like liquid fire. Her white nightdress, although modestly crafted, still managed to highlight every delicate curve and dip of her body.

She looks utterly breathtaking. 

The queen snaps you out of your trance when she leans down to meet your lips with her own. A searing kiss that immediately leaves you breathless.

Alicent whimpers softly as your tongue enters her mouth, overcome with an urge to feel her, you place a firm hand on her waist, guiding her to straddle your lap.

The dowager does so with no protest, her knees quickly settling in between your hips on the bed. 

Her core snug against your clothed groin, she feels so warm, so intoxicating.

*

Alicent grinds against your lap instinctively, causing you groan into the kiss. The queen seemingly overtaken with desires of her own, pulls away to begin trailing open mouthed kisses from the shell of your ear, down to your neck.

Your breathing quickens.

“Fuck– I cannot believe how perfect you are.” You say, and Alicent leans back to look at you. She does so comfortably with your firm hand supporting her.

“I am far from it,” She argues, and you are quick to shake your head in disagreement, guiding her close once more by the nape of her neck.

“You have no idea how ready I am to commit treason just to prove you wrong, my queen.” You remark, and the sound of Alicent's giggle fills you with hope for the first time in days, before she connects your lips once more.

**

As the kiss deepens your hand wanders the dowager's frame, almost like second nature, you slip it underneath her nightgown, feeling goosebumps form on her thighs from your touch.

You squeezed her rear, indecently causing Alicent to grind on your lap once more. Swallowing her gasp of pleasure as she does so. 

“Y/n..” She utters against your lips, urging you on.

Soon you glide your hand towards her inner thigh, inching even closer to her core. “Can I?” Your ask is met with an eager nod. Alicent kisses you again, harsh and wanting.

“Touch me.” She says, and you do just that, finding your way to her sex. You begin to add pressure with your palm, causing Alicent's hips to buck against your touch.

She is dripping for you already– meeting your touch desperately. As you continue to move your hand against her sex, Alicent's gasps and mewls grow louder, she results in burying her face into the crook of your neck.

“Gods–” You marvel, kissing her shoulder before prodding a finger at her entrance. 

The queen grips your shoulder tighter, nodding profusely as words continue to fail her. 

You take it as permission to enter her. Doing so with two fingers, your breath hitches at the feeling of her walls contracting deliciously against your digits.

You would kill to feel her do the same around your cock.

“Yes, oh, Gods–” Alicent pants as you continue to pump in and out of her. Less than a minute has passed and it seems she is on the verge of release already, muttering incoherently against your ear.

She squeezes your fingers once more, pulling an involuntary groan from you, she is so wet you can feel her dripping down your hand, causing you to nearly soil your breeches.

“Come, come for me, beautiful..” You coax curving your fingers inside of Alicent, and that is all it took for her to fall apart completely.

She climaxes around your fingers with a cry, the sight of her writhing on top of you was truly the most captivating thing you have ever witnessed. You cock pulses with need, straining painfully against the fabric of your breeches.

Alicent's chest is heaving violently as she meets your gaze once more, her eyes dark amidst her pleasure. 

“Thank you, for that.” She mutters before kissing you deeply, and you can't help but chuckle.

“No, my love, I should be thanking you.” You insist, and Alicent cares not to argue at this moment. Her lips meet the base of your jaw, a confidence overcomes her when she touches your breasts before moving her hand further south, squeezing your cock.

She gapes at the sensation, with a look of palpable arousal that again, nearly causes you to finish right then and there.

“You are so hard..” Alicent remarks in awe, squeezing you harder, earning a guttural noise from yourself.

“Yes, all because of you.” You confer, and the dowager bites her lip to mask her delight.

The sight drove you mad, as it always does. Quickly grabbing hold of her nightdress, Alicent allows you to lift it over her head.

You toss the garment carelessly across the room. Alicent moans anew as your mouth makes contact with her bare and sensitive breasts. You begin licking and sucking as though your life depended on it.

Another shudder of pleasure nearly immobilizes the Alicent before she grips a fistful of your locks, harshly pulling your head back.

She ground her hips again, her weeping sex pressing down on your hard cock.

“Please, I want to feel it inside me. I want to feel all of you.” Alicent pleads, and the prospect alone makes you lightheaded.

You don't plan to deny either of you the pleasure any longer.

Alicent lets out a yelp in surprise as you flip your positions, placing her flat on her back as you quickly remove your tunic, finally fumbling with the laces of your breeches before removing them as well.

The queen's stare falls onto the large shaft in between your legs, she reaches out to touch your cock, but you quickly grab ahold of her hand, pinning it against the bed as you settle on top of her.

Alicent whines in protest, arching her back helplessly, causing your breasts to press up against her own.

“Please,” The dowager queen begs once more, and you smirk with a sense of triumph, in this moment, you truly believe that Alicent is yours to worship and love entirely.

“So impatient.” You tease, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

If Alicent aimed to respond, she was not given the opportunity to, as you thrust your hips forward, skillfully sheathing yourself inside of her. 

Alicent releases a strangled moan at the sensation, whimpering like a maiden as she grows accustomed to your size. Her nails dig into your back, she lifts her leg to wrap around your waist, inevitably pulling you even deeper inside of her as you begin to move your hips once more.

“Fuck– oh my Gods..” Alicent curses, motivating you to move harder against her, with every stroke, her cunt welcomes your cock eagerly. Squeezing your girth in a way you've never experienced before.

Alicent eagerly intertwines your hands, the intimate noises of your coupling filling the room. 

You groan with every thrust, feeling dangerously close to your release, you kiss her once before speaking.

“Alicent, I– I won't last much longer.” You admit, and Alicent moans at your words, anxious to witness your release.

“Don't hold back, darling.” She coaxes, letting her leg fall away from your waist, you pump inside of her again and then once more before pulling out.

Alicent continues to hold your hand as your entire body tenses, she watches your strained expression as you reach your peak.

She gasps as your seed spills onto her belly. 

Your breathing grows erratic as you ride out the shockwaves from your release. 

The feeling of Alicent's soothing hand caressing your forearm manages to coax you back to reality.

Alicent chuckles lightly as you collapse next to her, attempting to gain your bearings. 

The queen turns to face you, placing a lingering kiss on your stomach, before doing the same on your chest. 

You smile weakly, threading your fingers through her auburn locks, still feeling as though you are in a dream.

One you never wish to wake from.

“I love you..” You declare, just above a whisper.

Alicent beams, her thumb tracing across your bottom lip. “I love you too, y/n.”

[arc-misadventures]

First of all let me tell you that I love Cinder's entry, so full of lore. but here I come with something for Vtuber au; So, for Ruby, Weiss or maybe some other vtuber that you want to introduce, react to the information update of one of the most important events of The World of Remnant: Hunter's and Monsters. Because the way cinder and jaune explained it, it was an important event at that time. PS: Your work is always amazing, so don't worry about how long it takes to do something as long as you feel good about it.

The VTuber: The Lady of the Grimm

Fall4Me had a plan for today’s stream, a plan she had been looking forward to implementing for quite some time now. Today she invited a special guest, and she was all to forward to once again meet her, Lady.

~~~

Fall4Me: Hello my underlings, how are you this fine day~?

~~~~~~

Kinder79: Our lady is here!

Judicatorsbanana: All hail the, Grimm Princess!

Linxder: Hi, Ember!

H3LL3R: Been better.

Rangerlion: Can’t complain really

ICSTARS: What’s the plan for today?

~~~

Fall4Me: That’s good to hear chat. Now then, for today’s stream we’ll be joined by a very special guest. And no, before you ask it is not, Errant.

Her body fell back in her chair, her body adopting a tired, and weary posture as she lamented the fact that her darling wolf would not be joining them.

She quickly brushed this aside as she resumed her stream.

Fall4Me: Now then, today we will be joined by a friend back from my days of playing, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters. Today will be joined by my, Queen; The leader of the Cabal, the Queen of the Grimm: GrimmMonarch!

Appearing from the side was an elegant lady with skin, and hair as white as bone. Eyes as red as fresh fallen blood, and nestled in a black void, smiling enchantingly at the stream. For this was the LadyofDarkness, the GrimmMonarch.

~~~~~~

H3LL3R: Whoa momma

ToxickBattery: Why are all the ladies in Remnant so hot!

Piggu910: Is that a bad thing?

ToxickBattery: Just an observation.

Judicatorbanana: This going to be good!

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Why hello everyone it is a pleasure to meet you all this fine day, and hello to you as well, Ember, it is a pleasure to meet you again. How have you been my dear?

Fall4Me: I am well my, Queen. How are you feeling?

GrimmMonarch: I am quite well today. Well, bar the fact that my tea has gone cold, but that is nothing to really concern myself with.

Fall4Me: I shall get you a new cup of tea at once my, Lady!

GrimmMonarch: Ahh~! Ember my dear, you’re doing it again.

Fall4Me: EEEP!

The chat exploded into a choir of hearts as they heard the cute squeak escape, Fall4Me’s lips.

To those chosen few that knew; back in the days of, World of Remnant: Hunters, and Monsters, GrimmMonarch had adopted a stern, but caring motherly attitude to dealing with the, Cabal, and its members. A demeanour that, Fall4Me instantly gravitated to.

For, GrimmMonarch adopting such a demeanour had become a coping mechanism to dealing with the lose she could barely endure, and as to why, Fall4Me stuck so close to her was to have what she never had when she was young.

They were simply two broken people cleaning to each other to mend their broken hearts. And, while their hearts had mended, some old habits were hard to break.

GrimmMonarch: It’s been years since we last play, WoRHM, and yet you seemingly still haven’t shaken off that loyal subject persona of yours.

Fall4Me: I can’t help it! It’s reflex at this point!

GrimmMonarch: We will have to fix that bad habit of yours. But, in the meantime, what are we doing on this fine day?

Fall4Me: Well, my chat has been pestering me for quite sometime about something, and because you had more… involvement with this situation, I thought it would be best to have you around to tell everyone what happened.

GrimmMonarch: Situation?

The Lady’s eyebrow shot up as she mulled over the word, until her mouth opened as a hum of realization escaped her lips.

GrimmMonarch: You are referring to the, ‘Scorpion Incident,’ aren’t you?

Fall4Me: Yes. During a video where, Errant was…

GrimmMonarch: Errant? Do you mean, ErrantryPaladin by chance?

Fall4me: Yes, do you know him?

GrimmMonarch: We spent some time together after the, ‘Scorpion Incident.’ Do continue my dear.

Fall4Me: Of corse; Before I did my first stream, Errant saw my announcement video, and regaled his viewers with the tale about my character, his interactions with the cabal, and the bloody retribution he wrought upon the, Cabal.

GrimmMonarch: Oh, so it was him who unleashed that half baked, Grimm-Titan upon us.

Fall4Me: You didn’t know? No wait, he never told anyone until that stream, of course you didn’t know.

GrimmMonarch: No, but I always had this stinking suspicion that he did. There was something about, Errant’s behaviour that that told that he knew something about the, Titan attack, but he never said what that something was.

Fall4Me: I never suspected a thing, I had no idea that, that, Titan was encouraged into attacking the, Cabal. I thought it was mere happenstance that it attacked us.

GrimmMonarch: It shows you how effective, Errant’s plan was that we all were none the wiser to his scheming. But, enough talking about our, Rusted Knight. Let me regale you with the story of the rise, and fall of the, Grimm Cabal.

GrimmMonarch: I played WoRHM, for a long time. From the beginning to the end… I believe I had over four thousand hours on the game…

~~~~~~

KinofPenguin : 4000 hrs?!

buggermeoldchap: WoRHM was around long enough for someone to have played that long.

ICSTARS: Most of the top plays averaged 4-5 k hrs

RaverKitty: The highest was around 7 k

ToxickBattery: Was it, Headmaster Ozpin?

Meol’mucker: Who else would have played it that long?

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Because I played so long, my level was… two hundred and, thirtyseven. I was nearly around three hundred by the time I stopped playing.

Fall4Me: Two hundred, and thirty seven?! I guessed you were over level one hundred, but to be double that?

GrimmMonarch: The leaders of the academies, and well as myself, the former leader of the, Cabal each had an average level around two hundred, and fifty. It was part of the reason I was scouted to be the, Queen of the Grimm. I could have been the Headmistress of, Mistral Academy, but the idea of leading the, Cabal was an oh so much more tantalizing idea~!

Fall4Me: Who had the highest level; Headmaster Ozpin?

GrimmMonarch: You would assume, Ozpin, and you would assume wrong.

Fall4Me: Wrong?! But, he was the best headmaster among the five of you. How come he isn’t the strongest?

GrimmMonarch: You forget how the experience points is distributed. Ozpin mostly fought in teams, so the exp from a quest, or Grimm slaying was distributed among the team. If, you primarily fought alone however, all the exp would go to you. So, care to guess who had the highest level now, Dear?

Fall4Me: Uhhh… E-ErrantryPaladin…?

GrimmMonarch: Ding~Ding~Ding~! That is correct my dear.

Fall4Me: ErrantryPaladin?! He had the highest level…?! How high?

GrimmMonarch: At the closing of the servers, Ozpin had a level of three hundred, and sixty three. Errant however, he had a level of four hundred, and eighty two.

~~~~~~

RangerSnake: 482?!

emptythrone: It was nearly 500?!

Seventwothreepie: Probably played for at least 6k hrs

PlacatedBadger: Explain why he never joined in the tournament matches.

TheBadgers~!: He’d whipe the floor with an entire academy

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Why did he bother sending that, Titan after us? He could have levelled the guild single handedly…

GrimmMonarch: Considering what happened during the, Apprentice Massacre, I believe, Errant wanted to make sure we suffered. I’ve seen him be rather vindictive to rather cruel players in the game.

GrimmMonarch: Now then, while I was in charge of the, Cabal, I had several powerful members join the, Cabal. Yourself included, Ember. But, while I had several powerful members under command, we were all jokesters, and bullies to a certain extent. Until the massacre happened, the worst the Cabal did was have, Grimm attack settlements, and teams of, Hunters. We were seen as a general nuisance that added spice to the game.

GrimmMonarch: But, after the massacre many of the, Academies started a witch hunt for our members, their attempts to find us mostly ended in failure. Until, Errant evidently sent that, Titan after us we were fine, but that, Titan crippled the, Cabal. Instead of causing Grimm attacks on settlements, and Hunter teams. We were stuck doing raiding missions in an attempt to recoup our strength. Many members left the guild because they couldn’t deal with the pressure the, Academy’s were mounting on them. And despite our best efforts, it seemed we were getting nowhere.

GrimmMonarch: That’s when several players decided to meet together irl, and discuss what they could do to fix the problem. And, this enters in stage left, the culprit of that fateful day… Tyrion Callows…

~~~~~~

Meol’mucker: Man that name sounds evil.

H3LL3R: Sounds creepy.

DaSting: I don’t like where this story is going.

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Wait, Tyrion Callows is his actual name?

GrimmMonarch: Yes it is. Most players use an alias while playing instead of their real name, however, since no one would know that it is his real name unless he told someone, well it worked at the end of the day.

Fall4Me: I remember the few missions I did with him, he was always seem unhinged. Wasn’t the, Apprentice Massacre his idea?

GrimmMonarch: It was indeed. He was sorely reprimanded when I discovered it was his plan. I should have taken that as a sign…

Fall4Me: A sign? A sign for what?

GrimmMonarch: Of things to come…

She hummed to herself as she contemplated what she was about to say; about how she could say it, and how her audience would talk what she was about to say.

GrimmMonarch: It was seven of them at a diner, including, Tyrian. There were several humans, and faunas there. While they were there, they discussed several ways to revitalize the, Cabal. But, peoples view of the, Cabal was ruined by the events of the, Apprentice Massacre, so it was neigh on impossible for us to recruit new members. And, because we had been raiding so many towns, dust depots, and general supply trains in order to rebuild the, Cabal after the, Titan attack, the Academies started making more missions to protect those assets. The Cabal was at a standstill, we couldn’t push forward with any plans because we were so broken. At that point, the Cabal was a dead man walking…

Fall4Me: Then what happened?

GrimmMonarch: One of them suggested that it would be best to abandon the, Cabal then. Everyone should abandon the, Cabal, me included. We couldn’t get any more supplies, we can’t get any new members, more were leaving every day, it was just a matter of time until the, Cabal was disbanded. The six of them agreed that this was the only course of action. They decided they would bring it before me at the next meeting. But, Tyrian… Tyrian snapped…

Fall4Me: Snapped…?

~~~~~~

DaSting: I REALLY don’t like where this is going!

Judicatorbanana:I’m starting to regret asking what happened.

LevenAngel: I regret a great many things!

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Tyrian started calling everyone a traitor, that they betrayed the, ‘Goddess,’ and that they will all be brought to pay for their transgressions.

GrimmMonarch: They told him to relax, since it was all just a game, but then… Tyrian grabbed a knife, and…

Fall4Me: He didn’t…

GrimmMonarch: Yes, he did…

Fall4Me’s voice fell into a small whisper as realization dawned on her at what that implied. She didn’t want her to continue this story, but she knew that she needed to finish it.

GrimmMonarch: Of the six people, three of them died due to knife wounds… the other three barely managed to survive, however medical personnel managed to come in time to save them. Thought his poison was quite effective.

Fall4Me: And, Tyrian, what about him?

GrimmMonarch: The police were in the area, so they managed to get there quickly, and when they were in the process of attempting to arrest him, he stung one of the officers, while the other one gunned him down.

Fall4Me: So he’s dead, Tyrian’s dead right?

GrimmMonarch: In the police report it indicated he when he attacked one of the officers there to arrest, Turian, his colleague unloaded his entire magazine into him. I can assure you, he is most certainly dead.

~~~~~~

Amogsus: Well that’s depressing.

Kalper: Sounds like he couldn’t differentiate reality from fiction

SuspiciousDucky: Poison? Did he have poison on him?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Yes… SuspiciousDucky…

GrimmMonarch: Oh that’s a cute name~!

Fall4Me: Oh it is… Ahem! Yes that is a good question; What did you mean by, ‘His poison was quite effective?’

GrimmMonarch: What has, Tyrian’s character in game?

Fall4Me: He played this lanky scorpion faunas… wait…? Was he an actual scorpion faunas?!

GrimmMonarch: Indeed he was; Poisonous stinger, and all.

Fall4Me: Whoa… Wait, how do you know all of this? Did one of the victims tell you?

GrimmMonarch: Yes, and no. Tyrian said, they betrayed the, ‘Goddess,’ the survivors deduced that he was talking about me. So, I was called in for questioning by the police about this whole fiasco.

Fall4Me: They arrested you?

GrimmMonarch: No, nothing of the sorts. Just asked me some questions regarding, Tyrian’s personality, and the events that lead to this happening. I got to talk to the others who got hurt, and I learned their side of the story. After I received permission from them, and the police I told everyone in the guild what happened. That was where the end began.

~~~~~~

RangerSnake: Wait, Ember you didn’t know about all of this?

Linxder: Yeah, you were in the guild when this happened

7uwu7: Were you?

~~~~~~

Fall4Me looked away from her stream for a moment, before she replied to her chat’s question with a nervous lint to her voice.

Fall4Me: Uhh… No. I had stopped playing the game before this happened. I would have been there when it happened, but some… things happened.

GrimmMonarch: Best leave it at that chat. Now, I told the rest of the members of the, Cabal at a guild meeting what happened. Their reactions were varied, and understandable to the news of what, Tyrian did, and the loss of their friends. I then brought up one of the notions one of the members brought forward as to what the future of the, Cabal should be.

GrimmMonarch: Wether to continue rebuilding the, Cabal, or to disband the, Cabal. It was a unanimous vote to disband the guild… Even I didn’t vote to continue rebuilding the, Cabal. We were as good as dead anyway.

GrimmMonarch: We had one farewell party among us to celebrate the legacy, the good parts that is, that was the, Grimm Cabal. And, after everyone left one by one… all that remained was myself. I contacted the staff, informed them of what had happened, and then I told them to close the, Cabal. And, with that… the, Cabal died.

GrimmMonarch: You know… I always thought the last death cry of the, Cabal would be felt by the whole server as it fought to the death in one glorious battle for the fate of, Remnant itself!

GrimmMonarch: And, yet we left with barely a whisper…

Fall4Me: …

GrimmMonarch: So, there you have it chat; That is the tale of how the, Cabal fell. If those of you who were once players in, WoRHM, know only that the, Cabal was disbanded. Former members of the, Cabal who left the guild, and either returned to their former academies, or restated their account. Considering the nature of why the, Cabal disbanded the members didn’t want to talk about it, and just said, ‘There was an incident with a scorpion.’ Hence where the, ‘Scorpion Incident’ earned its name.

Fall4Me: Wow… I had no idea… I always assumed, Tyrian did something, but I would have never expected that he did that?!

GrimmMonarch: Yes… he did…

~~~~~~

Meol’mucker: Is this the first time, you told anyone about this my, Goddess? Outside of the Cabal that is.

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Oh my~? Calling me a goddess already~? Well, I don’t mind chat, but do show some restraint my dears~!

The chat swiftly exploded into a shower of hearts as the, Grimm Queen smiled sultry at the screen.

GrimmMonarch: But, no, I told the, Headmasters, and Headmistresses of the various academies what happened. I explained to them that the, Cabal was to be disbanded, and the various members would be either restarting their accounts, or simply return back to the academy of their origin. I told them to kindly accept them back in, and to not tell anyone about the, ‘Scorpion Incident.’

Fall4Me: And, you didn’t tell anyone else about all of this?

GrimmMonarch: There was one other who knew; Care to guess who~?

Ember’s model swayed as a brief laugh escaped her lips, she knew precisely who else learned the tale of the, ‘Scorpion Incident.’ After all, he had a knack for finding out about such things.

Fall4Me: Tell me my, Lady. How did, Errant learn about the fall of the, Cabal?

~~~~~~

7uwu7: Ha!

Amongsus: Knew it

DaSting: Who else but him?

emptythrone: That guy really gets around

~~~~~~

GrimmMonarch: Oh, how did you know it was him~?

Fall4Me: My darling wolf had the reputation across the server as an information broker. He had the most uncanny ability to find out about the most minuet of details that happened on the other side of the world.

GrimmMonarch: Indeed he did. Despite never seeing my human form before, he was able to instantly identify me in my human form, and I had not even said hello to him at that.

Fall4Me: ‘Human form?’

GrimmMonarch: What? Did you think that I always had this beautiful appearance you see before you?

Fall4Me: Well… that makes sense. But, I’ve never seen you in any other form, but the one I see before me. I never say you as a…

GrimmMonarch: As a what…?

GrimmMonarch: A human?

At the click of a button, the LadyofDarkness, The GrimmMonarch’s body changed, no longer was she a monster of death, and despair. Now lay before them for all to see was a lady of elegance that exuded an air of royalty that was unmatched by all those who stood before her. And, yet… when one looked into her eyes, one couldn’t help but see a sad little girl, longing for something forever out of her reach.

~~~~~~

Meol’mucker: YOOOOO!!!

7uwu7:😍😍😍

Laven: Damn!

ICSTARS: Who said she can be so hot!

RangerSnake: Smash

~~~~~~

Fall4Me: Ohh~! You look beautiful your grace!

GrimmMonarch: Thank you, Ember. This was the form I adopted before, and after the, Cabal. It is what I always imagined what, The Girl in the Tower’ looked like when I read that short story.

Fall4Me: ‘Fairytales of the World of Remnant?’

GrimmMonarch: That’s the one, in fact whilst I was using this skin, I went by the name, EVAnora, or EVA for short.

Fall4Me: That’s a nice name.

GrimmMonarch: Thank you~! Now, back to our, Knight. He stumbled upon me as I was slaying some, Beowulfs, small fry, hardly anything to worry about. Anyway, he walked over, and said, ‘I bare glad tidings to the, the LadyofDarkness, the Queen of Grimm.’

Fall4Me: …?

Fall4Me: Pfff! Ah-hahahaha~! Did he really say that?

GrimmMonarch: Indeed he did! It was so ridiculous I couldn’t help, but laugh at it as well. Despite, Errant’s reserved demeanour, he can be quite the endearing character when he wants to.

Fall4Me: Quite so, I’ve seen him converse with fellow players, he can be quite the smooth talker when he wants to. It’s can be quite scary at times…

GrimmMonarch: Are you referring to the time he swindled, Vacuo’s merchant guild into revealing where the slave camps were, or the time he caused the falling out of, Dazzling Spear Hunter Teams?

Fall4Me: Wait?! He did that?! I was talking about the time he tricked the, Crimson Brigade into attack the bandits base during the, Season of Fire event, that triggered a Grimm Horde event?!

GrimmMonarch: He did what?!

[perlen-gold]

An Angbang Fic

Of Fairest Flame

Inspired by @melkors-defense-attorney and this post!

At Mairon’s heels the whole world was made of gold.

When he passed, even the black-oblivion, obsidian-sleek walls of Utumno lit brazen-bright. Pits of bonfires woke beneath the iced rocks, and gilded flame-tips licked at his limbs from the sheer walls of Angband, polished to hot embers and glowing coals in his presence.

Wherever he trod was the flame of his hair. However dark the night, its lustrous strands wove glowing rubies into the roaming night. Whatever darkness he summoned around him was pierced by the golden gaze of his eyes.

His shadow dissolved into a golden crown when his fairness shone forth, as he willed it to, as leaping water over steep stones and cleaving rocks.

And I saw him take it, this heated glow of his as he had taken the rising crown from my hands. Oh, I had stared at him, harder and deeper than any mountain flesh or gaping chasm. I could have struck him down, torn him asunder as easily as I called spitting heights and depths to my biding. And yet his flame never even flickered in my direction. Not even when, contemptuous, he took the gleaming jewels, heady with his disdain, from me. For my little flame did not shape mountains and chasms.

Gilded iron was his alloy and will his anvil.

It was beauty alone that Mairon shaped.

Patient, or as patient as I would, I watched him call forth in the forge the spearing splendor of my crown and the hideous shape of Orcs under the skies just as meticulously.

There is a fearsomeness in unpleasing appearance and Mairon knew it well. The dread Orcs inspire in the common man was of his design also-

So was the stronghold of Angband. A rock-hewn fortress of efficiency, warfare and secrecy, I never tired to wander its complexity, wondering and, with all my heart, occasionally longing to fell it just to see how Mairon would rebuild and recreate its terrible beauty all over again, though I never told him so. He knew anyway, of course, and kept his keen golden eye on me like a wolf guarding its prey.

Yes, ghastly they were, the creatures Mairon unleashed upon his foes, the heinous Orcs and gruesome goblins, mountain-trolls and blood-teethed wolves, swathed in the blinding darkness of my Balrogs and fire-drinking dragons.

Mairon, however, ceased to be fair in battle.

Oh, he could have seduced most of his adversaries, forced onto week knees with his sorcery many more and all the rest. But a cobra will not feed upon limp flesh, the cheetah must race, the falcon swoop to pierce the songbird onto its claw.

And so, with his flickering flame-smile, Sauron, as they called him, set a different trap entirely to spring.

The light upon his face was an uncanny ally of his.

Illuminating the finest of his bones to marble-cutting flawlessness.

Chiseled heights, darkness and light were there ought to be neither, glowing shades and whisper-gleaming rays of sunlight beneath a blackened sky.

His voice rang the air like silvered iron, mellifluous and haunting at once, as commanding as a furnace and as tender as a caressing hand, his laugh bright sunlit pearls and cruelly suffocating ashes.

At the dawn, on the shore of battle, the highest elven kings, fiercest queens and most spirited warriors rode for him without hesitation. Sauron, the cruel, they murmured stern-faced among them, and he was indeed wickeder than any Orc or Balrog of mine.

They set out and rode and stroke to earn their place facing him, swords held aloft, their steadfast resolve soaring to shield their people and beloved ones and let detested Morgoth’s lieutenant perish at last.

What they met utterly unnerved, unrooted, unhinged them.

Comeliness.

Handsomeness.

Fairness.

Pulchritude.

Beauty.

Those are mere words. Spoken tumbling winter-leaves struggling to paint a hail storm.

He was all and naught.

And more.

And more.

And more of it.

Both women and men trembled in mesmerized dread and eerie, bloodcurdling want, gaping upon him. Intoxicating pleasure rose in them when they first caught his eye. It was like pain to them.

 By then Marion’s battle-born strides would have become languid-long strolls. The few who still had any morsels of wit left about them tried to break away their eyes from the light-infused apparition frantically, searching for the malice of his mace, gripping their swords with their sweat-slippery fingers.

It always charmed him into the smallest, most dazzlingly curving smile. They almost never realized that to Mairon the sword tip’s deadly dance was just another art, another craft to master and shape.

The most valiant were always wild on their obedient horses to shoot like arrows at him.

Towards the end, they all fell, crawled, cursed, glowered, quivered under the tip of his iron-clad foot. I have always thought him nearly never more beautiful than when he coaxes his cruelty like a lover’s kiss before the bite.

Around them their friend’s torn faces and daughters’ and sons’ smeared lips, honeyed with crimson blossoms and singing gold flowers. The unnatural light painted the blood-gasping ground and changed their fallen comrade-in-arms’ gruesome wounds to crimson-cold brocade.

Mairon had them between his teeth till they died of bliss and horror alike.

Until they sighed and shrieked and moaned and wept.

 “You are Sauron,” they would utter, staring, accusing, spitting at him.

Oh, yes, Mairon said. Smiled. Oh, yes, yes.

Sometimes the very young ones, well-trained boys and girls, would beg him then. Then, Mairon’s rose-soft, velvet-curling lips smiled even more beautiful.

Around him the thrusting, piercing, blood-lilting, iron-soaked air was limned with gold. In this pause, this endless biding of time against the grey-spraying portrait of misting blood and blooming battle, he liked to pull off his helmet at last. Slow and delicately this one, rapidly in a great sweeping arch the other time.

It is the last thing they always see.

The reaching length of his hair curling into fire-lit waves of gleaming water ripples, his sun-shaming light pouring as endless waterfalls.

The pinkish tip of his tongue a glimpse between his curving, gold-dusted lips in the moment of his kill.

In the blink of a startled eye, Mairon’s beauty rippled into a haunting, living, wraith-like phantom.

The high-browed elven lord’s eyes always widened and their lips spit on the ground before his last smile.

Before he opened them as ripe figs bursting on touch.

When I came forth from my fortress, the ground shook with satisfying anticipation and a rumble swept through our armies, his and mine, mine and his, ours and theirs. As I stepped forward without forewarning, the roiling battle was surging under Mairon’s sway as usual.

A draught of wind … I could listen to the softness of Mairon’s petal-perfect skin in it. I could savor the unnatural shadows illuminating his brow and cheekbones whispering across his features and taste the lashing of his hair in my mouth, scarlet-sizzling as coals. On his flaming head his crown – for it was more iron crown than helmet – was a smooth black somehow enlightening the flawlessness of his features even more. His iron-slinking armor, sharp as curving wolf teeth, clung to the virtue of his shape. His fiery hair, tamed in the forge only, was afly like shimmering birds. I saw it whip through the air as Mairon turned abruptly around even before the roaring Orcs next to me blinked at my sudden presence.

At once, I saw the flare in him bright as sunlit gemstones as I set foot on the battle field, his intricate thoughts shooting like spider’s webs into a myriad of calculations at once.

The mind of any other Vala and their servants are like lily-bedded ponds. Deep their water runs but slow, and the pebble thrown barely bounces across the surface. The ripples are soon gone.

Mairon’s mind, however, darted like fire prancing, dazzling to watch its hundred and thousand swift flickers.

I seldom partook in battle and, oh, hard it was becoming already to stifle my laughter.

Promptly, I could see his clever embers stirred in their battle-focused ash-bed, swiftly and instantaneously.

Ah, how often had I thwarted his meticulous plans in the past before for no obvious reason – not obvious to him, that is – at all?

Sometimes I had leapt into action when he would have stalled my impatient hand, sought to preserve what I annihilated and at other times I had cherished what Mairon had deemed worthless.

So wary was his gaze as it first flew into my direction like a sleeping volcano’s first glimmer that I could sense a thousand thoughts ignite into a hundred interweaving sparks at once. He knew I was seldom to do what he bid me to and never to follow a plan to its end.

Oh, but he was a quick-bright little flame, and whatever havoc I wrought upon his elaborate schemes he would never be surprised nor deceived twice and what could scratch upon the perfection of his composure once never even reflected on the polished marble sheen of his features ever again.

Oh, but he knew me so well indeed, as the fire knows the logs it steadily consumes. It had become increasingly hard to catch him unawares, to make any impression upon his clever, ever-calm countenance.

A thousand wiles I had played upon him through the ages already and a thousand predictions and presumptions were lapping at his flame-spurred heels now.

As soon as I set foot on the ground it trembled and Mairon’s gold-flame hair was afly.

Instantaneously, his face turned in the direction of my arrival and, though he was far away on a lone hill, in the midst of battle, a commander of forces who would be commanded by none other, I could see his shimmering beauty whip around.

Belike, I would seek his advice or perhaps I would undo all his careful webs and sunder all his admirable designs upon a mere whim of mine – he was fascinated and loath to watch me do it.

So, as the ground rumbled beneath my iron-clad footfalls and even the darkest creatures of my armies shrank away in fright, I could see him not step back like them but instead devise and foretell a thousand things to be prepared for me, to predict my wisdom – of which he doomed little upon me – and envision the chaos I could wreck.

Bright could I see the light of his mind as he drew it, keen as the nimble blade he was wilding.

A lesser being he was, yes, so much more fragile and less mighty than I. But none of the other Vala, let alone their servants, possessed his mind’s spark-gleaming quickness, second only – or so I hoped to believe – to my own infinite-stretching mind.

Golden thoughts sparked within it, darting as light, trying to decipher the cause and – more important in Mairon’s glittering mind – the ends of my wild stepping into battle.

Again, I almost burst out laughing.

My hammer, however, dragged a gaping gorge behind me. I did not lift it nor unleash its deadly power and that, I thought, a brimming in my chest, was what drew Mairon’s suspsicion most. 

From my path, my army swayed, Orcs and darker creatures shrinking back.

But I am a god and it took me scarcely more than a few strides before I reached him.

Mairon’s face was like marble showing neither dent nor impression whatsoever. If I had knelt at his feet his splendid expression would have shattered – but in my mind the idea I carried within me was of another kind and I thrilled with the anticipation of it.

Ah, how unearthly, uncannily, unrelentingly beautiful he was!

Mairon, his sword reluctantly held, raised his gold-infused gaze to me.

Inside the dazzling gold there were cold calculation and smug disdain aglitter.

Ah.

That potent mixture of mocking smugness and complacent taunt.

I have never told him that, though lesser in being, immortality and power, Mairon’s visage bore one fruit none other in Eä could offer.

In all other beings I had seen and sniffed it, beasts and birds, elves and orcs, wild things and god-like creatures alike. The other Vala, too, I had seen the sheen of it upon them – why, even Manwë – and it had filled me with glee unimaginable.

Not him, though.

Never him.

Forest of wiles, oceans quick as arrows and mountains sharp as knives, I could see a whole world blazing in his aureate eyes.

Even jeering derision, if he had the nerve for it – and Mairon almost always did. Even, in those rarest moments when he was most unguarded, trust.

Amidst the tides of our forces I stood still in front of him. Around Mairon’s flaring hair and golden limbs curled the smoke grey of his armor, somehow illuming the brilliant symmetry of his features even more, his iron-slinking armor clinging to the sculptured fairness of his shape.

That fierce serpent beauty flashed.

Yes, my lord? What is it that drives you forward to my meek reign?

The scarlet flame of his hair tangling around him in a windless breeze, a luscious bow, mockingly coy, of curving lips and white teeth. I could hear his voice tingle in my head.

Having left your hideout, is there something you ask of me?

Ah.

Insolence and impudence. Arrogance. Amusement.

A whole world but never fear.

I could have wrapped my hands around his slender neck and squeezed without even a gleam of scare in him. I could have lifted my hammer, torn the earth beneath his feet, dictated the skies to strike him with thunder and lightning.

Ages and aeons ago, in the sweltering gleam of Aulë’s forge, he had spotted me among the darkness long before I revealed myself. His eyes shone in the dark brighter than any cat’s. Instead of raising his voice, crying wolf and havoc for help, he watched me and I could feel his gold-gaze lingering.

I went back to my underground halls that day, pondering that brazen insolence just to return the next night trying to break his unwavering gaze.

“How do you know I will not smite you where you stand?” I asked him upon the next day in the deserted forge when I let go of the shadows at last to bend over him.

He had cocked his head like a bird and returned, sleek as a raven:

“How will you know I will not betray you where you sit?”

The cheek! I was a poisonous viper and he was another and, oh, how fiercely I wanted him to be mine, mine, mine then and mine alone!

His soft neck was between my hands before even he could elude me. Instantaneously, the gold in his eyes sparked with realization and horrified shock of what I was about to do in a split heartbeat ere I was upon him. His lustrous hair flew like gold ribbons in a wind where there was none, his skin was iridescent in his otherworldly apparition-beauty.

His gilt-rimmed pupils dilated but it was already too late.

I pressed my mouth amidst the surging battle forces upon his pearly lips and kissed.

Flame-swift, Mairon’s rage was so instantaneous I had to swallow my cackling laughter just to prolong the touching of our lips a little longer before he could defy me.

A conflagration met my mouth and I, made of ice and fire, allowed him to singe me till I felt actual pain as I burnt and grinned now beholding the utter outrage in Mairon’s gold-limned eyes.

I could not fathom what incensed him more – the fact that I would do this outside the secrecy of his sweltering bed chambers or the incidental truth that I had accomplished to take him yet again by utter surprise.

Suddenly his hot-white fury came, ever more terrifying and beautiful than a thunderstorm.

He looked like he might have struck me down then and there, me, in front of everyone.

Then Mairon turned – not because he could not but would not strike me – and away he  went like an inferno to ravage the battlefield, descending upon our enemies as the sun, golden-bright and blind-burning, veiled in the light of stars and comets, and I watched him, his beautiful blaze transforming into a wraith-like furnace which he cast upon the enemy so that neither elven nor mortal survivor – if they survived – would be able to look upon a beautiful face, be it fair maiden or lovely lad or sweet rose, and bear it ever again.

As my thunder-laugh broke from my chest the ground around me shook and shuddered.

Pierced as though scorched, the swelling of my lower lip seared.

Oh, I was looking forward to golden vengeance he would spin to wreak upon me.

I laughed.

[sky-kiss]

Say You're Mine for the Ages

A/N: This is…essentially spoilers for my longfic lol. But it could change by the time I get there. Also, all those kinks I said were gonna be in this? They ain’t. Naw. I’m in corpo hell this week. There is no sexiness in corpo hell. 18+, named D!urge. All that.

You can also read it here if you prefer.

R/T: Say You're Mine for the Ages (18+ ish)

Silence. 

Silence. 

At the end of all things, in the wash of blood and madness, all was still and silent. Raphael wondered if it wasn’t some trick—perhaps he’d gone deaf. The rustle of fabric as Baalphegor crossed the caldera promised he had not. She cut a striking image against Cania’s monochrome terrain—cinnamon and ash—as she crossed to Mephistopheles’ corpse. 

The poets liked to speak of the emptiness of such victories—vengeance would leave one hollow, they said. Raphael felt anything but—the Fiend howled in his head, some great beast adding its song to the Archduke’s more flowery exultations. Won, he’d won. Mephistopheles dead, the Lord of Murder dead. Bhaal’s essence…

…Bhaal’s essence. It tasted like blood; it felt like raw power. It was standing at the eyes of the storm, feeling the winds tear at you, and laughing. The power of true divinity—his.

Theirs, he corrected, a shiver chasing along his spine. Where was the irritation the thought should have elicited? Where was the fury? The emptiness, the loneliness, the rage, as he clawed ever upwards? 

Silence, Raphael thought, closing his eyes. All was silent.

The Archduke felt his Duchess as she crossed to him—like strings of power or flesh, sowing parts of her to him, shared tissue, shared power. There was a resonance—divinity her sire imbued to her by virtue of birth and the mated essence he’d stolen. 

“Look,” she breathed. Joi lifted her hand to his temple, tracking downwards along his cheek and the trickle of blood. His Duchess stared, searching his face as if seeing him for the first time. Her free hand curled behind his neck. “Look at you.” 

Raphael traced her lower lip. “Name me—you have earned the honor. Be the first.” 

“Raphael,” she murmured, stroking his face. Her eyes burned—green like envy, flecked with gold—his queen, the joining point of so many sins. Her voice was low, her words a hymn. “Archduke of Avernus, Lord of Ambition—a god.” He shivered, kissing her—this thing, this goddess, this other half of his divine essence—drowned in the taste of her and the rush, completed…whole. Her fingers threaded through his hair, inhaling the air he breathed into her lungs. His Joi spoke against his lips. “My god.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

The silence broke. 

There was only noise in the aftermath—Mephistar's citadel and its halls, all full of music and laughter. Lords and Ladies from each of the Infernal Courts rotated around him, offering their praise. False praise, yes—every smile was the edge of a blade pressed to his back—but why should that matter? The devils no longer looked upon him with disdain. They stared with jealousy. 

And Asmodeus offered a new title—the son of Hellfire's birthright.

"Hail, Raphael," the Dark Prince said, voice dark. He held his goblet high, dark hair hanging loose over his shoulders, handsome like roaring thunder. "Archduke of Cania, Prince of the Eighth, Lord of Ambition." Raphael sat up straight, jaw squared. A feast hall of Dukes and Duchesses, all eyes fixated upon him. Asmodeus sat at the head of the table, Lady Baalphegor on his left. And the place of honor? His. The Lord of the Nine's eyes glittered like rubies. "Hail Raphael—Right Hand of Asmodeus."

They cheered for him—hated him, this half-blooded bastard who had moved so far beyond every devil assembled. Raphael bowed his head and held up his goblet. 

His Sire's throne, realm, title—everything belonged to Raphael. Mephistopheles' name would fade to nothing, and there would be only Raphael.

Blood thundered in his ears. The words rose to his tongue, heady and well-practiced. The devil might even have meant them, as magnanimous as he felt. Raphael stood, bowing his head. "Hail Asmodeus, Lord of the Ninth—the Shield of Law, a wall against the Abyss and her chaos. Without him," he flicked his gaze from the Lord to the Lady Baalphegor, beautiful, seeing too much. She tipped her head to him, hiding a smirk in her wine. "The tide would wash over us, one and all."

The corner of Asmodeus' lips ticked up. Ah, clever boy, it said. 

The Lady of Murder shifted beside him, eyes dark, smiling as he took his seat. Joi slipped her hand into his, touch settling on his upper thigh. Heat radiated from her skin, through the robes, licking outwards—she squeezed. 

The conversation turned towards more neutral ground: the Blood War, Raphael's plans for Cania, if he would continue his Sire's experiments—banal. 

Joi's touch strayed upward.

Why should they be denied? 

~~~~~~~~~~

How many centuries had he spent wandering Mephistar’s halls? 

It was a tale for the poets: the cambion child, alone, his Sire’s eyes upon his every move, and pureblooded devils waiting for the slightest misstep. 

He had outlasted and surpassed them, one and all. Cania and Mephistar were his, and he intended to stake his claim well and truly. He would contact the Ice Devils, and he would…

…would…

It’s difficult to think. 

There’s a savagery to his divinity, worse when she’s near. The threads binding them together drew taut, as if she’d yanked them, pinned the strands beneath her heel to keep him close. Raphael tipped his head back to make room for the press of her lips and chuckled. Joi’s teeth scraped across his pulse, sucking a vibrant purple bruise on his throat, more stark against his red skin.

“They want you dead,” she murmured—but with the Lady of Murder, this was far from a warning. She radiated pride and adoration, and her touch spoke to reverence. 

"It is the way of the Hells." He fisted a hand in her braid, tugging hard enough to create space between them and force her to look at him. Joi smiled, and the relative sweetness of her expression belied the underlying hunger coiled between them. He traced her cheek. "Greedy little beast—you want them to try." He nipped at the tip of her nose, avoiding the press of her lips. "Try to kill me." 

"Try being the operative word, my love—I'd never let them get far." 

Raphael clutched her throat, dragging his lips up and across her forehead. "Tell us why."

He knew the answer: to kill for him—to defend what belonged to her. Greedy, he thought again, but not unkindly. Joi's right hand found Raphael's—she brought it to her lips, kissing the back of his knuckles. Such a tangle of limbs, so tightly entwined but still…lacking. 

Age had a way of putting carnal appetites into perspective. The satisfaction of owning or conquering flesh paled in comparison to a kingdom. It could not compare to power. The needs of another would never compare to his own. 

But his Duchess was power, not a foreign entity but an extension of himself, twinned, mated. 

He could want her—it was no different from pleasuring himself. 

Raphael squeezed. "Answer."

 "Because," she breathed. "You are mine—I protect what is mine." 

~~~~~~~~~~

Mine—growled into the flesh of her inner thigh. The devil dragged his teeth across the sensitive flesh, biting hard enough to draw blood. Raphael sat back, admiring the ruin of his Duchess—sweat-slick, skin painted with an amalgamation of blood and her arousal. He dragged his thumb through the worst of it, painting ragged lines of crimson up to the apex of her thigh. She sighed, spreading her legs—beautiful. The Lady of Murder remained so lovely, fangs flecked with blood. 

His blood, hers—did it matter? He thought not. 

“Ah, but look at you,” he purred, voice pitched low, like every bad idea, every promise made in the darkest stretches of the night. Some sick thrill chased along his spine as he watched the muscles in her stomach flesh, her pulse leaping as he sunk his fingers back into her spent body. If he closed his eyes, the world would take some dizzying turn. His Duchess cried out, hooking her right leg around him to draw him close. 

Soon, so soon, but he wanted to revel in this final indignity against his Sire. Mephistopheles’ private chambers were alive with sound—the new Duchess of Cania, voice pitched in praise to Raphael, reaching for him, worshiping him. She came apart around his touch, shuddering, arching, tail thrashing until he twined his with hers. 

How delightful, how delicious to have such a creature so securely bound to his will. 

Joi pushed up on her elbows, shaking, crooking a finger at him. “Come,” she ordered. 

And he smirked, leaning over her, shifting his weight to rest more comfortably in the cradle of her thighs. She sighed, reaching between them to find his length, leading him—he seats himself so easily. As if she’s made for him, molded, and that gratifies his pride more than he’d care to admit. “And who are you to order me?”

They knew the answer too well, their shared divinity twisting and tugging—rapture every moment he sank into her, screaming fury every time he pulled away. Together, one, for the first time since their victory in Gehenna. 

“Your Duchess, your goddess…” she sank her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, panting, whining, canting her hips to take him deeper. He should cut out her tongue for her impudence. Tear out her eyes for staring at him so sweetly. So many things, all so far off. “Beautiful Raphael—my love.” 

 Hers, greedy beast, the truth of her claim written in the lines scored down his back. Hers, the sentiment underpinning every heresy she breathed in his ear—their churches would grow great. They would push into the Abyss. They would remake it in their image. 

They would shape eternity. 

So let it be done. So decreed Raphael, Lord of the Eighth, God of Ambition, Right Hand of Asmodeus. 

[gotham-at-nightfall]

The Conqueror's Crown

When Queen Visenya placed a Valyrian steel circlet, studded with rubies, on her brother's head and Queen Rhaenys hailed him as, "Aegon, First of His Name, King of All Westeros, and Shield of His People," -Fire & Blood [Aegon's Conquest] Maegor descended on Dragonstone only long enough to claim the crown; not the ornate golden crown Aenys had favored, with its images of the Seven, but the iron crown of their father set with its blood-red rubies. -Fire & Blood [The Sons of the Dragon] On the appointed day Ser Criston Cole placed the steel-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror upon the brow of the eldest son of King Viserys -Fire & Blood [The Dying of the Dragons - The Blacks and the Greens] Few foresaw that Daeron, the First of His Name, would cover himself in glory as did his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, whose crown he wore. -The World of Ice and Fire [Daeron I] Such was his desire to split from the past that he had a new crown made — a warlike crown with black iron points in a band of red gold, since Aegon the Conqueror’s crown had been lost after Daeron I’s death in Dorne. -The World of Ice and Fire [Maekar I]

By Jota Saraiva

[simplegeneral]

Oh! What about king Canyon? Scarlet must have tolerated him if he was able to live 20 years and have multiple children with her. She could have killed him after the first princess was born

I haven't thought much about Canyon, but tbh, the excuse that Scarlet found him boring and thus got rid of him in the arena is kinda of lazy imo, but I suppose I have a few thoughts about him.

I talked about how Char was humble and a popular king, so take all that and make the inverse for Canyon, his egotistical and careless behavior made him extremely unpopular among the skywings.

Although his marriage with Scarlet was forced and simply almost a contract signed by queen Firestorm and his noble family, since nobody actually expected that at the day of her very marriage, Scarlet would overthrow Firestorm and actually become queen.

Canyon used his position as king consort to simply get the things he wanted. Where Char humbly cared for his subjects, Canyon saw them as nothing more than pawns to be used and discarded whenever he felt like it.

If Scarlet was a psycho, Canyon was not much better, as egotistical behavior with power do not mix well for everyone else.

Despite this, Scarlet kept him around because overall, it was necessary, her first daughters were trying to overthrow her, and she didn't felt like marrying again, especially as her reforms and militaristic culture were proving unpopular among the skywings.

She needed a scapegoat to restore any semblance of popularity, so she did the best she could think of, to put Canyon in the arena and give the masses the entertainment they desired by watching their hated king die by the talons of much more competent dragons.

A general went on to fight him, a rival of his, ever halted by the fact that he was Scarlet's husband, now had full permission to murder him, and so he did absolutely proudly and was hailed the champion of Scarlet's arena, which impressed even the queen.

He is unnamed, and I am not the most creative with names, so call him whatever, after murdering her former husband, publicly announced his intention to the watching public and Scarlet that he saught to marry her and become the king the skywings demanded.

Faced with two most perfect opportunities, one to appease the skywings and another to get a more fitting husband, Scarlet accepted and the ceremony had begun in the same day.

This general and now king of the SkyWings was the father of princesses Ruby and Tourmaline (different dragons in my AU since there's no masks) and still rules with Scarlet, as his military competency was well rewarded with the coming sandwing succession war

[honey-minded-hivemind]

imagine a Aladdin/Princess and the cobbler type au-

Like some of the X-Men are royals and stuff

Maybe Gambit is a thief like Aladdin(because c'mon- why would the king of thieves not be a their in an au like this)

Maybe Reader is a cobbler like tack, probably doesn't speak much, has a habit or fixing clothes and other things, even stitching and nailing stuff down in their sleep

Maybe Mr Sinister is like Jafar/Zigzag, a sorcerer planning an evil scheme

..... Also Morph as a genie-

Cube Anon

HahA! Okay, okay, that would be new!

Some sort of fairy tale/folk tale style thing, right?

Gambit being the thief/prince of thieves/Aladdin and Flynn Ryder guy

Morph: The helpful and hilarious genie/fairy.godparent

Reader: The other Protagonist who has an odd talent

Mr. Sinister: Evil *sshole wizard/advisor/villain

Rogue: Queen of Hearts, who Gambit fell in love with, she's dangerous and awesome

Wolverine: a wolverine-taur

Morph: The Good Fairy

Scott: The Prince of the Ruby Plains

Storm: The Storm Goddess

Jean: The Princess of the Fiery Kingdom/The Phoenix

Jubilee: Jubilation, Wolverine's daughter

Beast: Hank the were-beast

Charles: Charles the Wise

Magneto: Magneto the Mage

Mystique: Mystique the Mystical

Sabretooth: Sabretooth the Smilodon-taur

Gambit, Prince of Thieves, wanted to steal something that could give him his one true desire: a way to love a Queen who was untouchable and deadly. He didn't have much to help him, save for Reader, his companion, who was good at building plans and solutions. Sadly, neither one of them had what they needed to steal from the evil wizard, Sinister. So Reader concocted a brilliant scheme, which called for...

A magical fairy!

It was safer than a unicorn, and was less likely to turn them into dinner as a dragon would. So off the two went, seeking the help of the Good Fairy, Morph. The two had to pass through the Woods of Woe, where lay a terrible monster... Yet the two discovered it was not a monster, but-

A wolverine-taur!

The poor man had gotten trapped in there by the evil wizard, and he too was looking for something that could grant his own desire. As thanks for helping him, he joined the two companions and off they went to find the Good Fairy, Morph. Ahead of them, once they exited the Woods of Woe, was a sickly person on the side of the road. The three decided to help them, picking them up and bringing then into their shelter in a den...

Yet the being soon changed, and before them was Morph the Good Fairy!

Morph told then they had passed their test, to see if they were good of heart, and discovered that they were true of heart, helpers in disguise. So Morph joined them, and off the four went, into the Kingdom of Fire...

In the ashes and lava and obsidian city, they discovered a blind man, alone and on his own... The four brought him with them, as he explained he was a former prince, who had been cursed by the wizard, and went to seek his love, who had been turned into a Phoenix! His name was Scott, Prince of the Ruby Plains, and soon the four became five...

The five of them soon left the fiery kingdom, entering the Valley of the Four Winds... There, they found a woman frozen in ice. With Scott's powers, Reader's plan, Logan's careful cutting, Gambit's careful hands, and Morph's good luck spell, they freed the woman... who turned out to be the Storm Goddess! She thanked them for freeing her, as she had been frozen by Sinister, who had stolen her friend, a kindly were-beast named Hank... She joined them, and now the five became six...

The six entered a dark, oily, sickly land, where the grass grew dead and the sky rained hail... Together, they discovered a tall, dark stone castle, which hid their friends, the magical artifact, and Sinister...

Reader made a plan to enter in secret, with Gambit and Wolverine going to find the stolen people, Morph and Stomr to distract Sinister, and Reader and Scott to find thr magical artifact. Thus they all split into two, entering the creaky, quiet castle...

Soon, Sinister came upon Morph and Storm, and tried to turn them against one another. But the two stood strong, using the power of snow and lightning as well as goodness and light to capture Sinister, freezing him in a prison of light, locked in snow, and sealed with lightning, that would keep Sinister locked away forever...

Gambit and Wolverine found the missing people, The Queen of Hearts, whom Gambit had fallen in love with, a young girl, who was Wolverine's daughter, Jubilation, and a Phoenix who soon turned into a woman with fiery hair, the Princess of the Fiery Kingdom... Together they broke out, freeing any others prisoners, such as Charles the Wise, Magneto the Mage, Mystique the Mystical, and Sabretooth the Smilodon-taur...

And Reader and Scott found the artifact, one that could grant them their heart's desires... It was a a mirror, one which showed them.what they wanted... and in the mirror, it showed them all of them, together, as a family...

So the heroes all came together, embraced, and left the dark castle, going back to their freed kingdoms, and with special orbs so they could summon each other and call when needed...

And they lived happily ever after...

(How was that? Ye, or no? @thewickedweiner ) (Wait... Waitwaitwait- Who wants to make a Fanatasy/Dark Fantasy AU? Separate from this, but with similarities)

[secretly-a-catamount]

Kinkajou was horrendously, unbelievably, and utterly bored. The small RainWing had many talents, but sitting still for hours and hours was clearly not one of them.

Her scales — patterned like a peacock, teal and ruby-pinks and sun-golds — had small flashes of red on her graceful wings. If Winter remembered correctly red was irritation, or maybe anger?

“Stop squirming.” He said exasperated, serrated claws wet with paint.

“Well, I’m sorry that you are taking forever.”

“This is taking forever because someone is squirming.”

Winter’s talons gently scraped against the goat-hide canvas.

A wide green swoop for Kinkajou’s neck. Little talon-pricks of dark blue.

An intricate necklace of flowers. Large, silvery-white ones that Winter vaguely remember saying he liked once.

In fact, now that he saw them up close they almost looked like—

“Icefrost Bells.” Winter blurted out, thanking the three moons that his scales wouldn’t betray his emotions.

“Are we playing a game where we say random word associations, because if we are: walrus, scarf.” Kinkajou said, as if that made remotely any sense, to anyone, ever.

“What? No! It’s just that Icefrost Bells is the name of the flowers.” He added at her quizzical look, “On your necklace.”

“Sorry, icicle-face—“

Icicle-face?

“But these are Lace Bells, not whatever it was that you said, and two: this is important because . . . ?”

Winter seriously wished could just melt into the cave floor. He muttered something incoherent.

“Come on, you can tell me. Is it some sort of IceWing courting ritual or something?” Came Kinkajou’s joking response, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head.

“Just amongst the lower Circles!” Winter cried, flaring his wings out in panic.

“Are you serious?” She asked, her body kaleidoscope-ing in colors Winter didn’t even have names for.

“Yes.”

“But we’re not—“

“I know.”

Kinkajou responded to this social etiquette dilemma by bursting out into rambunctious laughter. “This — is — amazing!”

“It most certainly is not.”

“Tamarin is going to love this!” She chortled.

Jumping up and bouncing over to Winter, Kinkajou grabbed his messy, paint-covered claws with her own and spun the pair of them around.

The dance was uncoordinated and awkward. And fun.

“All hail, Princess Winter.” Kinkajou giggled.

“You know perfectly well that I was a Prince.”

“And nephew of Queen Glacier.”

“Yes, and you . . . are making fun of me.”

“Yup.” She gave an outrageous twirl, whacking him in the snout with her wings.

“You’re doing the waltz wrong.”

“Then teach me how to do it right, Winter. I modeled for you, you teach me to dance.”

Winter sighed, “For starters, fold your wings against your body, like this.”

[westeroslive]

with  the  joust’s  hero  declared  victorious  and  the  queen  of  love  and  beauty  crowned  with  delight,  attention  turns  to  the  promised  great  ball.  a  missive  is  sent  round  to  the  nobility,  the  ruling  lady  requesting  that  all  dress  in  colors  as  vibrant  as  the  fields  of  flowers;  darker  colors  have  no  place  under  midnight’s  sunrise.

the  chosen  hour  upon  them,  ladies  and  lords  alike  adjust  their  hair  and  coats  one  final  time  before  the  grand,  oak  doors  are  opened.  eyes  widen,  gasps  echoing.  the  great  hall  has  transformed  into  a  living  forest  -  walls  are  hidden  behind  greenery  that  climbs  up  from  the  floor  and  travels  across  the  ceiling,  certain  strands  of  leaves  and  bunches  of  wisteria  hang  reach  down  from  the  ceiling,  flowery  vines  weave  around  every  pillar,  and  the  most  verdant  of  flora,  particularly  the  famous  golden  roses,  fill  the  room.  candles,  enclosed  in  paper  cages,  join  the  chandeliers  in  dimly  lighting  the  room,  a  mixture  of  stars  and  fireflies,  further  distancing  the  mind  from  where  it  truly  stands.  romance  and  mystery  are  in  the  air  as  the  nobility  navigate their  way  through  the  hanging  vines,  tulle,  and  ribbons  that  twirl  through  the  room  -  not  unlike  bees  buzzing  around  a  never  ceasing  hive.

as  each  guest  enters  the  mystical  realm,  their  dance  card  is  tied  round  their  wrist  -  decreeing  the  list  of  dances  for  the  evening.  the  precious  metals  and  jewels,  sparkling  in  the  candlelight,  adorning  them  indicate  the  region  the  individual  hails  from:  emeralds  upon  the  wrists  of  the  reach,  rubies  declare  the  westerlands,  aquamarine  for  the  rivers,  those of the vale can be spotted adorning quartz, topaz  shines  like  dorne’s  sun,  pearls mark the wrists of those of the iron islands,  amber is gifted to the storm lords, opals  shine  like  snow  under  the  north’s  moon,  garnets  for  those  of  the  crownlands,  amethysts  grace  all  those  who  hail  from  across  the  narrow  sea,  and  finally,  diamonds  sparkle  as  they  hang  from  royalty’s  wrists.  however,  beauty  is  not  what  draws  nobles’  attention.

a  glance  at  the  cards  tied  neatly  ‘round  their  wrist  reveals  all  but  two  lines  empty.  vexation  can  be  seen  clear  upon  the  countenance  of  some  for  the  card  they’d  hoped  to  fill  with  objects  of  their  attention  is  already  filled  save  the  two  final  dances  of  the  evening.  if  only  they  would’ve  looked  closer,  they  might’ve  noticed  that  names  were  inscribed  not  by  royal  hand  but  in  penmanship  eerily  similar  to  certain  lady  mothers  amongst  the  nobility  but  realization  goes  ungrasped.  confused  whispers  pass  between  couples  both  wed  and  promised  for  not  even  their  cards  were  spared,  though  handwriting  upon  them  stands  more  generic.

silence  washes  over  all  as  the  ruling  lady  of  highgarden  stands  under  the  gazebo,  more  ribbons  and  flowers  adorning  every  inch  of  the  structure,  at  the  center  of  the  dance  floor.  she  welcomes  all  to  the  grand  ball  that  will  most  regrettably  mark  the  end  of  the  name  day  celebrations  that  she  will  remember  most  fondly  due  to  all  who  brightened  highgarden’s  halls.  all  are  encouraged  to  partake  fully  in  the  evening,  the  many  dances  emphasized  but  so  too  are  the  array  of  refreshments  and  pastries  that  will  be  available.  the  one,  simple  rule  of  the  evening  is  repeated:  one  could  not,  if  unwed,  dance  with  the  same  partner  more  than  once  before  the  palpable  confusion  in  the  air  is  addressed  with  a  smile.  with  so  many  gathered  together,  the  ruling  lady  declared,  it  felt  a  perfect  occasion  to  forge  and  strengthen  bonds;  hence,  all  have  been  assigned  initial  partners  to  spend  time  with  those  whose  paths  might  otherwise  not  cross.  as  the  evening  draws  to  a  close,  however,  the  choice  of  who  one  shares  their  last  two  dances  with  remains  theirs.  the  one  rule  must  still  be  followed,  but  those  wed  and  betrothed  may  drift  back  into  their  beloved’s  arms  for  both  dances  if  they  so  choose.

with  her  declaration  of  the  ball’s  commencement,  music  fills  the  halls  and  the  first  dance  commences  -  one  that  is  for  only  the  married  couples  of  court,  led  by  the  ruling  lord  and  lady  of  highgarden.  a  single  exception  is  made.  a  boon  offered  to  the  victorious  lord  mormont  and  his  queen  of  love  and  beauty,  lady  karstark.  they  are  permitted  to  join  along  in  the  first  dance  of  the  evening,  twirling  across  the  floor  amongst  the  sea  of  couples. 

some  take  the  time  to  tuck  themselves  behind  fortuitously  placed  potted  plants  in  their  hopes  to  avoid  the  names  upon  their  dance  cards  for  the  evening;  others  shyly  or  reluctantly  approach  the  first  name  on  their  card  in  preparation.  wine  and  laughter  fills  the  great  hall.  many  eyes  remain  fixed  upon  the  dance  floor  as  different  couples  take  to  it  but  court  does  not  only  play  out  on  the  surface.  the  constructed  forest  casts  many  shadows  and  eyes  cannot  see  all.  a  night  of  mysteries  indeed,  but  the  dances  will  continue  and  certain  ladies  of  the  court  will  whisper  amongst  themselves  as  they  watch  their  children  turn  about  the  dancefloor,  meddlesome  machinations  further  growing  in  their  heads.

card  one    —    myranda  karstark,  laina  dayne,  shyra  hornwood,  shaera  rogare, jaime lannister, maxwell cerwyn

card  two    —    viserra  targaryen,  theodore  baratheon, pearse  sunglass,  adrienne  arryn, arushi tully

card  three    —    maesella  targaryen,  lyonel  lannister,  dovasary  hightower,  arya stark, alyce graceford, aerea targaryen

card  four    —    gwyneth  allyrion,  calyx  targaryen,  rhea  greyjoy,  matthos  redwyne,  catraena  dagareon

card  five    —    odette  mallister,  malaya  dagareon,  amos  tully,  harrion  karstark, vaella targaryen

card  six    —    helaena  zalyne,  naerys  paege,  aelora  targaryen,  tanya  baratheon,  garin  allyrion, nestor royce

card  seven    —    klahan  rogare,  dyanna  marbrand,  desmond  mallister,  daemon  celtigar,  rhaenys  tarth, bronte velaryon

card  eight    —    alysane  tyrell,  baela  velaryon,  joanna  targaryen,  dalton  greyjoy, sebaston dayne, robert karstark

card  nine    —    lucretia  lannister,  carilyn  harlaw,  adhika  dagareon,  dilara  martell,  syrena  tully,  tyrek  hightower

card  ten    —    baris  tarth,  shirei  stark, cersei lannister,  dantae  dagareon,  gwayne  florent,  rhaeys  targaryen

card  eleven    —    martyn  stark,  alara  dayne,  jessamine  hightower,  kovarro  zalyne, maika templeton

card  twelve    —    perrin  rogare,  trystane  tyrell,  elowyn  harlaw,  jrwyn  mallister, ysabela arryn

card  thirteen    —    iliana  baratheon,  alaric  mormont,  myrcella  paege,  melantha  bolton, neşe tarth

card  fourteen    —    aerion  targaryen,  benedict  blackwood,  theon  stark,  jesmyn marbrand, ysilla royce

card  fifteen    —    sylaisha  of  pyke,  priya  fowler,  antony  arryn,  erena  bolton, caspian lannister

card  sixteen    —    calla  rowan,  alyssa  tyrell,  gysella  lannister,  aelyx  targaryen,  elias  baratheon

card  seventeen    —    isra martell, amiyah mormont, thalina brax, andros brax, varric royce, alistair rowan.

OUT OF CHARACTER: THE MAIDEN'S BALL

and  without  further  ado,  we  reach  the  conclusion  of  the  lady  tyrell's  festivities.  threads  do  not  need  to  be  stopped  /  ended  when  the  ball begins,  and  we  encourage  continuing  what  you  can  /  want  to,  as  during  the  day  of  the  ball  regular  festivities  still  occurred.  no new threads for the festival or joust should occur, unlike pre-plotted.

in  terms  of  your  muse(s)  dance  cards,  think  of  it  as  assigned  partners  that  your  muse  might  never  have  a  chance  to  interact  with.  threads  are  not  mandatory  to  be  written  with  your  muse(s)  assigned  partners  but  we  would  love  to  see  some  !

event doesn't officially begin until monday september 2nd, but you may begin writing threads surrounding the ball. event duration will be about two weeks ooc. anything related to the ball can be tagged westeros.maidensball

[redwinesupercvnt]

⋆˙⟡✮⋆˙about me˚⊹✧˖°.

basics ~ hi! my name is sam, she/her pronouns, ace + bi, 16, gemini, infp, multishipper, cats are my life, being a swiftie is part of my personality, my nails are almost always cherry red, i get a bit of a superiority complex bc i listened to a few artists before they were popular (chappell, noah kahan, last dinner party), love crocheting, movie buff, bones and all is the greatest film ever, live in converse, sitcom enjoyer, loser in a basic girl's body, old username was @electric-sheeeep

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO MESSAGE ME IF YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT LITERALLY ANYTHING LIKE WHAT COFFEE YOU HAD THIS MORNING IDK I LOVE IT SOOOO MUCH

✩fandoms✩ ~ marauders (fuck jkr), arcane, osemanverse, miraculous ladybug, yellowjackets, be more chill, percy jackson, stranger things, marvel, gravity falls

✩ships✩ ~ jegulus, wolfstar, rosekiller, jily, dorlene, marylily, bartylily, narlie, sprolden, tardarcy, tao x elle, adrienette/lovesquare, julrose, luchloe, lukagami, lucadrien (if luca's there im shipping it), jackieshauna, shaunahat, lottienat, taivan, boyf riends, richjake, pinkberry, percebeth, solangelo, byler, steddie, lumax

✩artists✩ ~ taylor swift, chappell roan, boygenius + solo work (all hail lucy dacus), my chemical romance, lizzy mcalpine, renee rapp, olivia rodrigo, conan gray, maneskin, gracie abrams, david bowie, sabrina carpenter, the last dinner party, noah kahan, arctic monkeys, billie eilish, maisie peters, the smiths, tears for fears, modern baseball, muna, bleachers, maya hawke, hozier, laufey, sorority noise, towa bird, queen, clairo

✩fav movies and shows✩ ~ bones and all, 10 things i hate about you, bottoms, yellowjackets, spider-man: no way home, spider-man: into the spider-verse, spider-man: across the spider-verse, loki, la la land, saltburn, modern family, brooklyn 99, thor: ragnarok, dead poets society, normal people, challengers, lady bird, brokeback mountain, perks of being a wallflower, pearl, heartstopper, percy jackson and the olympians (the show), stranger things, but im a cheerleader

✩celeb/characters im obsessed with✩ ~ ruby cruz, kristen stewart, chappell roan, olivia rodrigo, taylor swift, renee rapp, steve harrington, robin buckley AND maya hawke, victoria de angelis, all of boygenius, chat noir, emma d'arcy, kit connor, loki, mike faist, shauna shipman, sophie thatcher, daisy spencer, havana rose liu, abigail morris, leah sava jeffries, sabrina carpenter, iman velani, ayo edibiri, paul mescal, helena bonham carter

idrk what else to put here but im super friendly and i love meeting new people (not irl obvs real people scare me) asks are always open!!

also my cat is my favorite thing on earth so if you want cute cat pics dm me i love talking about her

OH I FORGOT MY FAV ANIMAL IS A RED PANDAAA

[hawkdisaster]

“ When Aegon’s knights unfurled his great silken battle standard, with a red three-headed dragon breathing fire upon a black field, the lords took it for a sign that he was now truly one of them, a worthy high king for Westeros. When Queen Visenya placed a Valyrian steel circlet, studded with rubies, on her brother’s head and Queen Rhaenys hailed him as, “Aegon, First of His Name, King of All Westeros, and Shield of His People,” the dragons roared and the lords and knights sent up a cheer…but the smallfolk, the fishermen and fieldhands and goodwives, shouted loudest of all. ” “ Only a handful of lords had been present for Aegon's first coronation at the mouth of the Blackwater, but hundreds were on hand to witness his second, and tens of thousands cheered him afterward in the streets of Oldtown as he rode through the city on Balerion's back. Amongst those at Aegon's second coronation were the maesters and archmaesters of the Citadel. Perhaps for that reason, it was this coronation, rather than the Aegonfort crowning on the day of Aegon's landing, that became fixed as the start of Aegon's reign. ” In his first coronation, Aegon was "only" crowned by his sisters. Of course, you can argue he was King from this day. But he chose to consider the day he was crowned and anointed by the High Septon of Oldtown as the official start of his reign. So, if you think about it, i guess you can safely assume any King or Queen need to be - among others things - officially recognized by the Faith of the Seven for his/her rein to be considered as legit. If not, anyone can put a crown on his/her head and proclaim himself/herself King/Queen. But no one would be bold enough to do it, right ?

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Taxes, Taxes, Taxes-Chapter 17

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant, Lucy Lane, Damian Wayne, Felicity Smoak, Streaky the Supercat

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16

It was pouring down rain and hail as Lena drove like a happy clam to her mother’s house. She has been beaming ever since Kara said yes to dating her. She hadn’t been this happy in a long time. So happy that she didn’t get upset today at all on the usual things that would bother her. Someone took her parking spot, the research lab had a fire that put them behind on a project for two weeks, and the basement flooded, but nothing brought her down. She just smiled and took care of everything gleefully. It made her employees look at her unnerved. Not that she was a bad boss, but Lena tended to be no-nonsense but fair. The incidents in the basement and research lab should have led to several employees being fired since they were at fault, however, Lena surprised them by saying everyone makes mistakes and for them to try harder next time. Now, she was going to her mother’s house for dinner with Sam, Ruby, and Lillian. She said that she had something important that she wanted to discuss with them. Normally, that would ring alarm bells, but all Lena could see was rainbows and kittens. Ten minutes later, she pulled up to her mother’s mansion, and quickly made a break for the front door. After her third knock, Lillian opened the door and ushered Lena in. 

Lillian looked at Lena surprised and said, “You are smiling pretty hard for someone who is drenching wet.”

Lena quickly took off her jacket with a smile still plastered on her face and said, “It wasn’t that bad outside.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow and said, “Are you okay?”

Lena cocked her head smiling and said, “Yes, why do you ask?”

“My dear, it is storming outside and you are drenching wet from head to toe, but you are acting like you just came out a fairy tale movie.”

Lena chuckled and said, “Don’t be so dramatic. I have just had a good day that’s all.”

Lillian narrowed her eyes and said, “All right. If you say so. I still have some of your old clothes in your old room if you want to change and there should be a blow dryer in there as well. Sam is already in her room changing into something else. When you are done, you can meet us downstairs for dinner. It will be ready in 15 minutes.”

“Okay,” said Lena cheerfully as she skipped up the stairs to the second floor. 

Lillian eyed her strangely as Lena skipped away. She shook her head and said, “Hopefully this mood of hers keeps going after the news I have today.” She shook her had and went towards the kitchen. 

Lena skipped down the hallway and entered her old room. She smirks as she looked around. Her mom didn’t change a thing. In high school, she went through a phase that she only liked things in purple. Her bed, walls, and carpet were in various shades of purple. The only things that weren’t was her desk, dresser, and doors that led to her walk in closet and bathroom. She quickly went into her closet and changed into some old sweats and MIT sweatshirt that she had. She then quickly went to the bathroom to dry her hair. Once she was done, she felt refreshed and bounced out the room all the way downstairs and into the dining room. She salivated at what she saw set up on the dinning room table: roasted chicken, ham, mashed potatoes, broccoli, kale, cherry pie, and an Oreo cheesecake. It was all Sam and her favorites. Sam and Lillian were already sitting down and putting food on their plate. Lillian sat at the head of the table, while Sam sat to her left.  Lena skipped over to the chair to the right of Lillian, sat down, and cheerfully started filling her plate. 

Once Lena finished plating her food, she looked around quizzically and noticed that she hadn’t seen Ruby around since she got here. She turned to Sam and asked, “Where’s Ruby?”

Sam chuckled and said, “Ruby’s friends invited her last minute to do a Disney movie night.”

Lillian sniffed while eating and said, “I am glad that she is socializing, but I didn’t think the day would come when she would miss out on hanging with her grandmother so soon. She used to get excited when Sam would tell her they were coming over.”

Lena smiled and grabbed her mother’s hand and said, “It is not like she ditched us forever. Plus, she still calls you every day to tell you what happened. In fact, I am sure tomorrow she will give you a full report of what happened at movie night.”

Sam chuckled and said, “Lena is right. You know in the next week she will want to have a sleepover here with you.”

Lillian pouted and said, “I know, but it is still not the same.” Lillian then smirked, turned to Lena, and said, “Unless a certain someone can give me grandchildren soon.”

Lena near spit her drink out and glared at her mother. 

“I am no where near the point of having children right now. My lifestyle is chaotic enough as it is.”

Lillian smirked while continued eating her food and said, “It would just be nice is all.”

Lena rubbed her head and said, “You are barking up the wrong tree. Sam has a better chance of having a baby before me.”

Sam smirked and said, “Lillian don’t let her fool you. With a certain special someone in her life, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has babies within a year.”

Lillian looked over at Lena shocked and asked, “I didn’t know you were dating someone dear. How long has this been going on?”

Lena glared at Sam and said, “you too Brutus.”

Sam feigned shocked and said, “I don’t know why you are mad. With the way you have been smiling all day, I know that special project with a certain blonde Kryptonian must have went really well.”

Lena chuckled nervously and said, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

It wasn’t that Lena didn’t want to tell Sam about her date. She actually wanted to tell her at work but because of the incidents that happened, it caused them to have to do a lot of paperwork so they didn’t have any time to socialize. She was hoping to tell her after leaving tonight instead of being bombarded at Lillian’s house. She knew that her mom didn’t share the same hatred for Supergirl that Lex does, but a part of her was nervous she would disapprove of their dating still. 

Sam raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh but it does when you didn’t freak out about the lab fire and basement flooding. You kept smiling and told everyone to do better next time. There was a bet going on with the employees wondering if you finally met someone or got fucked last night.”

Lena rolled her eyes, sighed, and said, “Don’t tell me you went along with these bets.”

Sam smirked and said, “Considering you can walk, I am leaning towards that you made out with the Super at least .”

Lena stared at her mortified.

Read the rest on AO3

[horizon-verizon]

If Visenya, Aegon, and Rhaenys are imperialists for being “foreigners” who conquer Westeros then Harren the Black is an imperialist for being an Ironborn king ruling over the Riverlands (and they’re all separate kingdoms at that point), especially since the Riverlanders hated him.

Argilac Durrandon and Harren Hoare were warring with everyone and their mothers in Westeros for decades before Aegon’s conquest. That realm was hell for the smallfolk and it shouldn’t be surprising that the smallfolk loved Aegon so much.

“When Queen Visenya placed a Valyrian steel circlet, studded with rubies, on her brother’s head and Queen Rhaenys hailed him as, “Aegon, First of His Name, King of All Westeros, and Shield of His People,” the dragons roared and the lords and knights sent up a cheer…but the smallfolk, the fishermen and fieldhands and goodwives, shouted loudest of all.” — The World of Ice and Fire - The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

NOTE: All of these coming quotes refer to the various regions and lords/kings BEFORE the Targs conquered Westeros.

Crazy thing is that Harren is the closer of the two to be an actual imperialist, and he certainly is more like the colonizers most of us are familiar with. He forced people to build his castle Harrenhal ("The Targaryen Kings - Aegon I"):

More on the hatred Harren Hoare accrued from those his forefathers conquered, his own conflict with Argilac, and Argilac explicitly looking for Targaryen support against Harren ("Aegon's Conquest" in Fire and Blood):

Agnes Blackwood and the Brackens ruining shit for most Riverlords in their feud with the Blackwoods ("The Riverlands" - "The Seven Kingdoms" - TWoIaF):

The wars amongst the North houses more or less lessened under the centralization-conquest of the Starks...but it occurred for at least 200 years ("The North" - "The Seven Kingdoms" - TWoIaF):

but then we have this funny little note:

And the war(s) between the North (Kings of Winter) vs the Valemen (the Sistermen and the Kings of the Mountain and of the Vale):

Dorne before Nymeria ("Ten Thousand Ships -- "Ancient History" -- TWoIaF):

Furthermore (until they finally ended more than 10 years after she landed with her Rhoynar):

The Lannisters against Valemen and the Gardners and ironborn ("The Westerlands" - "The Seven Kingdoms" - TWoIaF):

The Reach ( "The Gardener Kings" - "The Reach" - "The Seven Kingdoms" - TWoIaF):

The Stormlanders ("The Stormlands" - "The Seven Kingdoms" - TWoIaF) #1:

Quote #2 ("House Durrandon" - "The Stormlands" - "The Seven Kingdoms" - TWoIaF):

And none of these covers the extensive wars waged against the giants, those who sing the song of the earth/the children of the forest, and the ones between the Andal warriors/lords and First Men lords!

And don't get me fucking started on the Riverlands....

[heretic-child]

“When Queen Visenya placed a Valyrian steel circlet, studded with rubies, on her brother’s head and Queen Rhaenys hailed him as, ‘Aegon, First of His Name, King of All Westeros, and Shield of His People’…”

“Three hundred sets of eyes looked on as Prince Daemon Targaryen placed the Old King’s crown on the head of his wife, proclaiming her Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.”

[dragonfire-hq]

ANNOUNCING !! these members of the esteemed houses have entered king's landing !! the queen wishes you the best stay !!

please re-review the guidelines

in addition to posting all the follows, keep up with the follow list.

you’ll have 24 hours to submit your account to the main, followed by 24 hours to make your first in-character post.

lastly, join the discord.

ruby cruz , twenty - four, house celtigar hailing from  claw isle

taylor zakhar perez, twenty - eight , house arryn the eyrie