#Amarantha acotar

[lifeisabiscuit]

TAMLIN killed Amarantha. Yes, Feyre eventually broke the curse that allowed him to get his powers back but Tamlin is the one who actually killed her.

I don't know what nonsense Feyre is spewing in FAS about her and Rhysand killing her. Miss thing, you did NOT survive Amarantha. She killed you. Rhysand attempted to attack her and was thrown against a wall. Yall didn't do shit to Amarantha except piss her off. Tamlin was pissed and going to kill her anyways, Rhysand did not have to parade Feyre around practically naked, make her drink and dance til she threw up and sa her to make Tamlin mad enough to kill her.

I feel like everyone forgets this (including the high lords who are "oh so powerful blah blah blah" but believe the lies of a 20 yr old and her mate who was evil for the last 50 yrs over the high lord who saved them).

Give the male his flowers.

[loonylooly]

ladies and gents happy villain week here's amarantha

@sjmvillainweek

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Absolutely no one:

Amarantha with Jurian:

[bonecarversbestie]

For @sjmvillainweek Day 2: Planning

Amarantha plotting her takedown of a human teen

[theegemini92]

MATING BOND IS NOT LOVE ‼️‼️‼️

I wanna talk about the Mating bond because I don’t think people understand.

Dictionary/ Google definitions:

Mating is the act of pairing organisms for sexual reproduction, and can refer to the pairing of opposite-sex or hermaphroditic organisms. It can also refer to the period when a seasonally breeding animal is able to mate

the action of animals coming together to breed; copulation.

Hence the mating bond doesn’t mean love, it means a strong animalistic urge to copulate. This is my thoughts and theories on the mating bond:

• there are two types of mating bonds, the Land magic blessed ones aka soul mates or what I’d call instantaneous bond and there is the IMPRINT BOND. Soul mates in many definitions doesn’t mean love but it could mean anything, I digress.

Rhys, feyre and Lucien and Elain are so far the only two couples in all of the Massaverse are the only known ones that to my knowledge have had the Bonding EXPERIENCE… that INSTANTANEOUS FEELING by just SEEING or LOOKING at their mates. (Correct me if I’m wrong)

• I know for a fact the mating bond exist to help the fae procreate only the strongest or healthiest offspring’s. HEAR ME OUT: the only two most powerful HL of the ACOTAR verse known to us are Rhys and Tamlin. Both their parents were mates. (In my head Tamlin mother was the second wife lol) it is also clear that many fae don’t Marry for mating sake but political gain aka Beron. So does it not explain why these strong powers skip generations? Or even skip heirs? Because the land magic only picks the strongest and the fae hierarchy DEPENDS on that, their NATURE IS to have survival of the Fittest, perhaps it’s why Rhys tries so hard to build his selfish reputation of EVIL OVERLORD 😂

• now let’s talk about those bonds IMPRINTED or MADE. The one that we actually read about happening in the moment and described. Nesta and Cassian. Their bond was made DURING COPULATION. Not a happy moment in time or a regular time of the day. IN THE MOMENT!

Rhys said: sometimes some people reject the bond and if she’s female the males sometimes go and physically fight for these females. So sometimes I think about this: what if Nesta’s Real Mate ever appeared? The mate that is land magic given, the real soul mate. What happens then? Could it be possible? I think so. Just like a mother can give birth to three children and still feel the pain of each child when they’re in trouble or hurt. I should think those invincible bond strings apply. So will Cassian bond fade if that happens or become weak or will be weak compared to the real mating bond?

• the mating bond is said to be rare and why to me it is, is because the actual land given mating bond finds the strongest best mates, selection to breed and not create any weak fae, to keep the balance. The fae also live way too long to just procreating with just anyone one like us human beings.

• if the mating bond meant LOVE or STRONG MUSHY FEELINGS then Theia would’ve never killed Fionn, RHYSANDS father and mother would’ve never had a strained marriage. Elain won’t be trying so hard to avoid our boy Lucien.

A few follow-up questions:

• why do the bat boys want to lock down the archeron sisters so bad with a mating bond?

• there is a theory out there that Rhys somehow contributed to the mating bond with the bargain he made with fey UTM. ( I doubt that)

• Are some bonds forced? I think Tams mothers could’ve been with a father like his…. lol but then again Rhys has his reputation so we’d never know…

Please stop throwing mating bonds around like it’s forever love. It’s not. Feel free to drop your thoughts 🫶🏽

EDITED:

So this part was brought to my attention because I was solely focused on ACOTAR. But the mating bond applies to all of the massaverse. Let’s talk about throne of glass mating bonds. There were only two by my memory which was Rowan and Aelin and aedions parents. (Correct me if I’m wrong) Sjm didn’t really elaborate on it and how it worked but only described it when Rowan was talking about his false bond to his dead wife which was her personality. So in ToG interpretations, personality is a bonding source or the smell of the bond be it mates or offsprings and not strings or a halo of light like ACOTAR but that’s about it. They are mates because Maeve saw it and changed it. Sjm made sure she changed the mating bonds in all her books depending on the world so the land magic works differently. I think people compare ACOTAR to the other worlds and miss the whole point of these worlds being different.

So if Maeve can change and take away bonds, it means bonds can be broken or temporarily subside.

[readychilledwine]

The Fashion of Fear

Happy @sjmvillainweek Day 6!

I was pretty excited when we all decided fashion was a must for this week. I am looking forward to this prompt a lot. Without the Maasverse being made into a TV show or movies, it allows us as the readers to create our own imagery and ideas behind the fashion, the places, etc. I want everyone to keep that in mind today as they go through everyone's headcanons, artwork, fics, and mood boards. How I saw a character may not be how you did and that is the magic of reading. Take it as an opportunity to discuss things! Message a creator and ask about their ideas!

Also, keep in mind that it's very common for women to get to live out fantasy and have these amazing gowns and outfits from fandom culture custom made. It isn't as common for men, which is a shame and it needs to be more normalized, so we are going for vibes on some of these. Bare with me

🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Ps.. a message from Liz at the end

Beron Vanserra -

I firmly believe Lucien and Eris get their fashion sense from Beron. The male thrives on control and power. Fashion throughout history has been a sign of power

Beron perfers rich warm jewel tone colors. Deep olives, wine reds, plum purples. These tones used to be considered "weathy" in our real-life history. The dyes to make them were very expensive, so having clothing in those deep colors was a sign of status. Purples especially, look up "Tyrian Purple" for more history 💕

Beron also adds elements of nature into his wardrobe. Elements of leaves, vining, and other filigree are pretty common signs of his clothing for the maid who handles his clothing.

Controversial, but let me explain, I think Beron would be the most likely to have a crown of antlers of the High Lords. I know this is commonly associated with Tamlin, but Autumn is a season representing by harvest and hunt. A sign of a prized buck and stag will be it's rack (the antlers) and there are trophy hunters who will wait to find the perfect set and hunt for that purpose instead of food *side note Liz has issues with all forms of trophy hunting so, let's not dive into this one* It makes the most sense that Beron, High Lord of the Court that would be most associated with hunting, would have a crown and possibly throne of antlers.

I think shades of red are the most common in Beron's wardrobe. A tribute to his wife and one of the only signs of his twisted form of love for her.

Keir-

I also know male corsets are associated with Rhysand frequently, but I like to think they're actually fairly common. This goes back to the history of the item in our world. I just warped it for ACOTAR Liz Lore. Corsets also used to be seen as a sign of nobility due to how they constricted movement. It was a symbol of wealth that showed the wearer was essentially so wealthy they didn't *have* to move

Keir is in the Night Court. He has no choice but to daddy. I feel this mood board definitely speaks for itself, but I like to indulge.

I think Night court fashion, even in Hewn City, would be sleek with signs of sex appeal. Open buttons on shirts, tight fitted trousers, surprise lace detailing. Skin is a sign of high fashion. Just in some places, not all of the members of the Court get to partake.

Keir loves ornate details. Something to draw attention to himself. He prefers hand stitched everything. His wardrobe cost a pretty gold mark because of that.

I think he'd lean towards golds due to Rhysand leaning towards silvers, but black and silver will always symbol the Night Court, so that color pairing is in most of his clothing

I love the idea that Rhysand and keir secretly influence each other's fashion. A constant one upping battle to see who is ahead of the newest trends and curves first. They're both absolutely blind to the fact that this symbolic power struggle has made them the curve. They are both the moment. Absolute icons to the seamstresses and fashion world.

Amarantha-

I firmly believe Amarantha is a snake of many colors. I think her fashion sense would show that.

Amarantha as an emissary to Pyrthian would have adapted, purchasing fashion from all 7 courts to ensure she did not stand out too much.

That act of appreciation turns into an act of cruelty as she spends 50 years tainting each courts fashion. Everytime she's targeting a certain High Lord, she's wearing symbols of his court and it sticks.

I believe, regardless of the Court she mocking, Night Court's sex appeal plays into the design. Amarantha knows she is beautiful. She was never used to hearing no from a male. It makes sense that she'd use fashion to brag about what she knows are her finest assets.

Maeve-

The queen arrived.

I see Maeve in moody colors like dark jewel tones, blacks, and blues so deep that light seems to fall into them.

Maeve priorities comfort in footwear in my head. She pulls out heels for special occasions, but she is a flats girlie. Preferably flats with arch support.

Maeve, like Amarantha, loves to look and feel luxurious and expensive. Hand sewn beadwork and crystals are a must for her.

Maeve loves unique designs that pull elements from nature or architecture. Twisting vines, antler, filigreed lace work. These are things very common in Maeve's closet

Maeve is also known to mix up fabrics. Buttery cottons, high-end organza and gossamer, rare wools. The more expensive, the better.

She also isn't afraid of different silhouette styles. Ballgown, mermaid, aline. Maeve knows her body, and she knows her body will work for everything.

Pollux-

Everyone say, "Liz is sort of down bad for Pollux, and we forgive her." That damn line about him and his heavy cock... 🙄

Pollux leans to casual and comfort, preferring the gym over lavish outtings.

He is definitely the male your mother cried and begged you to stay away from, though.

Tight suits, buttons undone, shoes that properly match the belt. When Pollux goes all out, he goes all out in the newest fashions.

His streetwear is a mix of his suits and athletic wear. But he treats the public to the sight of him in a sweater with a leather jacket and tight jeans frequently.

Pollux is very clean cut fashion. Clean lines, not too much. Not distracting from his good looks and big wings. Very mindful of others who want to admire him, very classy, not too fashion forward and loud. Very demure.

His clothes are custom tailored. That's it. That's the headcanon. They all fit him as if he were poured into them.

Also, yes, Liz acknowledges this board is very eye candy.

The Viper Queen-

She inspired fast fashion. This is the icon we all follow on tiktok, drooling as she styles her exclusive wardrobe with pieces we think we have then can't pull off.

Very high fashion. The Viper Queen walks into stores and requests the latest lines. She pays for them in full.

During casual times, one would never suspect this is a full boss bitch. Her streetwear is very playful, still pulling in elements of high-grade materials, but she manages to blend into society when she wants to.

During her fights, you'll find her easily. Gowns that command attention, sparkling crystals, smooth silks, peeps of soft skin under netting.

She is the queen in her domain and everyone knows it.

Ankle bootie heels. With red bottoms. Don't know why. Don't ask questions. I can't explain it. It is just a feeling I can not shake.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

Ps from Liz:

I want to apologize for my Villain's Week things being late. You know when you read so much it makes you question what you're doing (other writers will)? That has happened to me this week. I'm being very careful to avoid touching things so I don't mass delete and give up. I'm giving myself a little grace and only touching the last edits when I am in the mood too 💕

They will all be posted, hopefully, by Sunday/Monday.

[achaotichuman]

What You Might Have Been

For Day 3 of @sjmvillainweek, sorry I am a little late to this day!!! I had an idea for Amarantha and Tamlin months and months ago, and decided I really wanted to fit it in for this event. I am very loosely using today's prompt Deception.

Summary-

He's something she could never be. Somehow, everything she hates and wants woven into one being. Soft, kind, loving. Everything a leader shouldn't be. Everything she's spent her life cutting from her being. Yet, when she sees it in him, she cannot help but want it more than anything.

A short story of Amarantha and Tamlin, two polar opposites locked in eternal orbit of each other.

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

“You learned to mask it all, finally, it made you a stronger leader.” She said, edging closer, step by step. 

“Get out.” He knew he couldn’t order her down here, this was her territory now. He tried all the same. 

“You used to cry in the beginning, when you still felt everything, when it was all new and unknown. You were used to being silent, but you weren’t used to hiding your emotions.” She said, her voice no longer the seductive pur, but simply stating facts. The General in her was showing its face. 

“You forced me to be silent,” Tamlin stated, trying to keep his composure, trying to not let the burning rage simmering under his skin show. He was facing away from her, eyes locked on the door carved out from the cavernous wall. This place was a temple, it shouldn’t have been touched, ruined, like this. The Spring Lord may not believe in a God, but he knew for certain the Cauldron had ties to places like this, and going against powerful magic entities like the Cauldron was inviting trouble into their lands. Practically begging for trouble in fact. 

“I did, but I didn’t stop you from feeling fear did I? I let you cry, I let you scream at times. I let you get angry, you used to spit curses at me, do you remember that?”

“I am supposed to thank you for that?” Tamlin spat, looking over his shoulder to where Amarantha stood, she was wearing that damning blue dress. Tamlin hated that dress. 

She snapped her fingers, her eyes lighting up with cruel amusement as she pointed to him, “That! That right there. That’s how you used to snap at me. Oh, the fun times, when everything was still so new for you. You got quite boring after a while, when you knew what was going to happen, when you realised you couldn’t fight me.”

Tamlin huffed a laugh, “Sorry for that, should I have made myself more entertaining? Was I, after being told I would be sold to you, supposed to be better at acting the part of personal jester?”

Amarantha just smiled as she stepped closer, “You and I are quite alike you know.”

Those words made sickness twist in his stomach, Tamlin looked away from her again, closing his hands into fists, “I am nothing like you.”

“Well that's not true and you know it. I think you used to think you weren’t like me, but all this… loss has made you realise you are indeed exactly like me. The loss made you stronger. It hardened you, you were too soft before. Too kind.”

Claws shot through his fingertips. Red blood fell from his palms. Tamlin remained silent. Even in anger, he knew he couldn’t lash out at her, it wouldn’t end any of them in a good place. 

“Dear friend, you know as well as I, that after a certain amount of grief, you go numb, you were no exception. You stopped feeling so much after a while.” She was right behind him now, her warm breath fanning against the crook of his neck as she leaned in close. Her hand slipped out and traced the curve of his waist. 

“I know how that feels,” she said, “I know what you feel. You and I are so alike. We would have made the world kneel at our feet.”

“I am nothing like you.” He whispered again. 

At that she breathed a laugh, it was not cruel, and it was not cold, it almost seemed… sad, resigned, “Perhaps not, but perhaps I was like you.”

Tamlin blinked, and anger gave way to confusion, “What?”

“Lovely Tamlin.” She breathed, hitching her chin to rest on his shoulder, “I was once young too, you know. I was once innocent, not cruel. The cruelty came with time. I was hardened in the same way you were.”

She trailed a hand lower, playing with the waistband of his trousers. She wouldn’t touch, she had made a plaything out of the Night Lord, Rhysand was enough to satiate her hunger for now. At least until their loose strings were tied up.

“Though I suppose I cracked into the cold, cruelness sooner than you. Perhaps that makes you stronger than me, that you’ve survived this long without losing your heart.”

Her hand came back up, tracing the outline of his heart, “You know what they used to say about you? Back in Hybern? They used to say you had a heart of pure gold.”

That claw she called a fingernail pressed harder against his chest, pushing into the hard flesh above his racing heart. 

Tamlin felt the quiver of magic that fluttered through his veins as Amarantha seized control of his power. Her hand turned to actual claws. 

“Let’s see if that is true.” She grinned before searing pain consumed him as she plunged her hand into his chest. 

______________________

Hours had passed, he only knew from the tall grandfather clock that stood proudly in the room, ticking with each painful, passing second. 

And in the corner, sprawled across a red velvet chair, she watched him. Picking at her nails as she watched him rouse from slumber. 

“Not gold.” She said, “The rumours were false.”

As she said the words, it was like they awakened the aching pain that throbbed through his chest, sending bolts of screaming electricity through his ribs. Tamlin groaned and tried to remain as still as possible, hoping it would slowly subside if he remained entirely still. 

“Why?” He whispered into the still air, it was a futile question, but what did he have to lose? “Why do all of this?”

She laughed, “You know why.”

“Is it the power? The fame, the fortune, just… didn’t you have all of that in Hybern?” 

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why anyone would want any of this. To willingly live beneath a mountain, to never taste the rain, to never bathe in sunlight, to never feel the wind on your skin. He didn’t understand why she wanted him, and he didn’t know why she wanted him caged with her. 

“I did have all that in Hybern, but I didn’t have it all.” Amarantha answered. 

“What could you have possibly wanted for?” At this point, Tamlin wasn’t even attempting to stall whatever horrible other things she had planned for him. 

He just…

Needed to know. 

She seemed to think about her answer for a good long while. With every second that passed, the clock ticked and his heart ached, despite it no longer beating. 

“You.” She murmured. 

“You had me.” He said, “All those years ago.”

“Yes, but… I did not have you. Tamlin I-” She sighed, tipping her head back.

This was…

This was different. 

But also the same. 

The woman she had become to the faces of the High lords, sickeningly sweet, putting on a performance that deserved an award. Charming and worming her way into their thoughts and hearts, until she had them wrapped around her finger, and soon their magic. 

But back then. 

Back then, Tamlin remembered a different Amarantha. One that was worn down by battle and settling disputes. One that was stoic, uncaring, unfeeling. 

Raging with grief. 

“After a certain amount of grief, you go numb.”

Was that why it was so easy to put on a performance? Because underneath it all, there was nothing really there.

“You were everything I didn’t have. Everything taken from me.” She murmured, “Pure, kind of heart, soft.”

A serpent’s smile creeped along her face, “I could not have you. So I had to take it from you.”

It was at that moment that she stood, that the lies and faces slid back into place. She leaned over him and grasped his chin. 

“I took it all from you. Drained you of that purity. That innocence.” Her lips brushed his cheek. 

“After all,”

Amarantha spoke against his mouth. 

“That's all beasts like us deserve.”

[viajandopelomar]

Which high lords did Amarantha kill?

🇧🇷o texto em português estará lá embaixo.

Which high lords did Amarantha kill? According to you on Tumblr, there were 3, and I'm only sure of 1, because the books tell more about Tarquin. So what were the other courts?

Day? But Helion says he tore apart the creatures chasing LoA with his bare hands, I don't think any Grand Phaeacian would be capable of that, since I imagine she as Beron's wife must have had several sentries 🤔. So I rule out Dia.

I don't think it's winter either, because Kallias told the sentry to tell Viviane to protect her city when she realized what Amarantha had done, didn't he? He wouldn't have done that if it hadn't been for the high lord. And it seems that Rhysand convinced Amarantha not to kill Kallias because all the rebels were massacred, something like that. I rule out winter.

Dawn? I don't think so either because I didn't see anyone talking specifically about Thesan and I also don't remember him even being mentioned until the meeting.

Fall, spring and night are out of the question. So why are they saying there were 3? I saw on reddit that Alis mentioned something about "three untested high lords", and that sounds to me like three people who recently ascended the throne. What if Kallias, Thesan, and maybe Nostrus was also a recent high lord? Maybe not Nostrus, and maybe the third is Helion, but that would become another plot hole, because it's completely illogical that he ripped those beasts.

But hey, maybe this third untested high lord IS Tarquin, and that's the most likely. Look, Kallias and Thesan as newly crowned high lords when Amarantha arrived, and then AFTER Tarquin. So we have the three untested and inexperienced high lords.

From what I can see they're saying that Helion is a newly high lord because the court must have rebelled and Amarantha slaughtered the royalty of the day, but Rhysand may also have prevented Helion from being killed because they're friends in the story. Man, it really doesn't make sense that Helion hasn't been a high lord for centuries, because Feyre sees him as someone whose eyes have grown cold because of the many libraries the day possesses, because of all the knowledge that surrounds him (before discovering that he and rhysand are friends). Either she's too stupid not to have thought that he couldn't have had access to those libraries in UTM, or he's been high lord for a long time. He already has the title of spell breaker, tell me how he could have had it if he hadn't been high lord for so long? It doesn't make sense.

But then again, it might not and all the theories are wrong because SJM didn't even bother to make a decent timeline, because we don't really have anything about the past.

That's it, kids, nothing makes sense in ACOTAR

🇧🇷 Amarantha matou quais altos lordes? Segundo vocês do Tumblr, foram 3, e eu só tenho certeza de 1, porque os livros contam mais sobre Tarquin. Então quais foram as outras cortes? Dia? Mas Helion diz que rasgou as criaturas que perseguiam LoA com as próprias mãos, não acho que qualquer grão feerico seria capaz disso, já que imagino que ela como esposa de Beron devesse ter várias sentinelas 🤔. Então eu descarto Dia.

Inverno também não acho, porque Kallias disse a sentinela para dizer a Viviane para proteger sua cidade quando percebeu o que Amarantha fez, não foi? Ele não teria feito isso se não fosse o alto lorde. E parece que Rhysand convenceu Amarantha a não matar Kallias porque todos os rebeldes foram massacrados, algo assim. Descarto o inverno.

Amanhecer? Também não acho porque não vi ninguém falando especificamente de Thesan e também não lembro dele ser sequer mencionado até a reunião.

Outono, primavera e noite estão fora de cogitação. Então porque estão falando que foram 3??? Eu vi no reddit que Alis mencionou algo sobre "três altos lordes não testados", e isso me soa como três pessoas que recentemente ascenderam ao trono. E se Kallias, Thesan, e talvez Nostrus também fosse um alto senhor recente? Talvez não Nostrus e talvez o terceiro seja Helion, mas isso se tornaria outro furo de roteiro, porque não tem lógica alguma ele ter rasgado aquelas bestas.

Mas ei, talvez este terceiro alto lorde não testado SEJA Tarquin, e é o mais provável. Olhe, Kallias e Thesan como recém coroados altos lordes quando Amarantha chegou, e então DEPOIS Tarquin. Assim temos os três altos lordes não testados e inexperientes.

Pelo que vejo estão dizendo que Helion é um recém alto lorde porque a corte deve se rebelou e Amarantha massacrou a realeza do dia, mas Rhysand também pode ter impedido que Helion fosse morto porque eles são amigos na história. Cara, realmente não faz sentido que Helion não fosse um alto lorde a séculos, porque Feyre o vê como alguém cujos olhos ficaram frios devido as tantas bibliotecas que o dia possui, devido ao todo o conhecimento que o cerca (antes de descobrir que ele e rhysand são amigos). Ou ela é burra demais pra não ter pensado que ele não pôde ter tido acesso a essas bibliotecas em UTM, ou ele era o alto lorde a muito tempo. Ele já tem o título de quebrador de feitiços, me diga como ele poderia tê-lo se ele não fosse o alto lorde a tanto tempo? Não faz sentido.

Mas também pode não ser e todas as teorias estarem erradas porque SJM sequer se deu o trabalho de fazer uma linha cronológica decente, porque realmente não temos nada sobre o passado.

É isso, crianças, nada nada faz sentido em acotar.

[merwgue]

@sjmvillainweek DAY 2: WEAKNESS

Summary: amarantha gets interviewed for her crimes.

A/N: The organisers probably hate me for always doing law related stuff but at least it's good😢, pls tell me u like it

They think they’ve won.

Dragging me into this pit, chaining me like an animal. The darkness of the dungeon is nothing compared to the darkness inside me, the one I’ve lived with for centuries. The guards yank at the chains, pulling me into the interrogation room as though I’m some cornered beast, some defeated thing. Fools. All of them.

I won’t break. I can’t break.

I smirk through the grime caked on my face, ignoring the ache in my limbs. Let them have their little show of power. It means nothing. It’s always meant nothing. Power… real power, isn’t in the iron clamping my wrists or the locks on the doors. It’s in here. My mind. My will.

The interrogator sits there, too calm, too composed. I hate him instantly. I can smell the arrogance on him, the smugness of someone who thinks they can peel back my layers, see what lies beneath. He’s a vulture, circling what he believes to be a dying animal.

---

Amarantha: “So. This is your grand plan? To lock me up in this filthy hole and try to… what, make me confess? Apologize?”

I throw the words at him, each one a sharp-edged dagger. My voice rasps from disuse, but I make sure it drips with disdain. I want him to know—no matter what they do, they’ll never take away my pride.

He doesn’t react. His eyes remain cold, calculating. I want him to sneer, to snarl, to feel the bite of my words, but instead, he leans forward, his fingers tapping lightly on the table between us.

---

Interrogator: “I didn’t come for apologies, Amarantha.”

---

His voice is soft, like he’s dealing with a child. Patronizing. Infuriating.

---

Amarantha: “Then what are you here for? To watch me rot? To gloat?”

---

He doesn’t rise to the bait. That calm demeanor—it’s unnerving. I’ve had stronger men crack under my gaze, but this one… this one is different. He’s playing a game.

---

Interrogator: “No. I came to understand.”

---

Understand. I let out a sharp, cruel laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. What could he possibly understand? He, with his polished clothes, clean fingernails, and a life free of true suffering. His words are meaningless. But still, I can feel something shifting in the air.

---

Amarantha: “You think you’ll understand me? Me? You pathetic little worm—”

---

Interrogator: “You’ve spent your life being misunderstood.”

---

The way he says it, like it’s a fact, makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s no accusation in his tone, no threat. Just a statement. And it burns. I hate that it burns. My lips curl, but for a moment… just a moment, I hesitate.

He’s not wrong.

---

Amarantha: “And now what? You think you’ll figure me out? Crack me open like a nut and see what spills out?”

---

I sneer again, forcing venom into my words, but my grip on the chains tightens. I can feel the cold metal bite into my flesh, and I welcome it. The pain helps me focus. It keeps the memories—the ones clawing at the edges of my mind—at bay.

He doesn’t respond. He just watches. Waiting. He knows. Somehow, this snake knows that the silence will unravel me faster than any accusation or threat ever could.

---

Interrogator: “You weren’t always like this, were you?”

---

My heart skips a beat.

---

Interrogator: “Once upon a time, you were something else. Something… vulnerable.”

---

The word hits me like a fist to the gut. Vulnerable. It’s the one thing I’ve never allowed myself to be, the one thing I’ve buried so deeply that no one—not even I—should be able to reach it. But here it is, staring me in the face, waiting for me to acknowledge it.

No. I can’t. I won’t.

---

Amarantha: “I was never weak!”

---

I snarl, yanking hard on the chains, making the guards flinch. My blood pounds in my ears, hot and deafening, but even as I shout the words, they taste hollow. Weakness. Vulnerability. They were never the same thing, were they? They were intertwined, though. I’ve spent centuries twisting them together, hiding one behind the other.

The interrogator knows. He sees it. He doesn’t need to say it.

---

Interrogator: “Weakness isn’t the same as vulnerability, Amarantha. But you’ve been running from it for so long, haven’t you?”

---

I freeze. My throat tightens, and I can’t seem to swallow. His voice is softer now, like a blade dipped in honey. He’s trying to cut me without me noticing.

---

Amarantha: “You know nothing.”

---

But my voice shakes. The words aren’t as strong as they should be. My hands tremble in the cuffs, the cold metal suddenly feeling like it’s suffocating me. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms until I feel the skin break. The pain is grounding, but it doesn’t drown out the flood of memories that are rushing to the surface.

---

Interrogator: “What are you so afraid of?”

---

I laugh, a sharp, hysterical sound, but the fear is rising. I can feel it, crawling up from the pit of my stomach, wrapping its icy fingers around my heart. Afraid? I’m not afraid. I’m Amarantha. I have never bowed, never broken.

---

Amarantha: “I’m not afraid.”

---

But it’s a lie. We both know it. The silence presses down on me like a weight, and suddenly the room feels too small, the air too thick. My breathing quickens, my pulse racing in my ears.

I was never afraid of losing power. Not really. I was afraid of being seen. Seen for what I am.

---

Interrogator: “You’ve always been afraid of weakness. But not the kind others fear. You’re not afraid of death, or pain, or losing control. You’re afraid of what’s inside. Of that vulnerability you buried so deep you can’t reach it anymore.”

---

I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

---

Amarantha: “Stop.”

---

The word comes out choked, barely more than a whisper. My throat is tight, and I can feel tears stinging at the corners of my eyes, but I won’t cry. I can’t. Not here. Not in front of him. But it’s too late. The memories—the ones I’ve tried so hard to bury—are crawling up, clawing at me.

The day I learned I would never be loved. The day I realized I was alone, even in a court full of people who feared me. They feared me because I made them. But no one… no one ever wanted me. Not for me.

I became cruel because it was easier than being cast aside.

---

Interrogator: “Power couldn’t protect you from it, could it? No matter how much you took, how much you destroyed… you couldn’t escape it.”

---

---

Amarantha: “Shut up.”

---

My voice trembles. The chains are so tight. I pull, yanking at them until my wrists bleed, but I can’t escape. My breath is coming in short gasps now, and I can’t seem to draw in enough air. It’s suffocating me, the weight of it all.

---

Interrogator: “You were never as invincible as you wanted the world to believe. And now, you’ve run out of places to hide.”

---

I bite down on my lip, tasting blood. It’s like I’m crumbling from the inside out, and I can’t stop it. I hate him. I hate him for seeing me, for knowing exactly where to dig. But I hate myself more for letting him in.

---

Amarantha: “I’m not weak. I’m not…”

---

The words feel foreign in my mouth, like a lie I’ve repeated so many times that I don’t know what’s real anymore. Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away, desperately trying to hold on to the last shred of control I have.

But I’m slipping. I can feel it. The mask I’ve worn for centuries is cracking, and underneath… underneath there’s nothing but a broken, terrified girl who once believed that power would save her.

---

Interrogator: “No one is invincible, Amarantha.”

---

The guards are moving now, pulling me up, dragging me away. But I can’t fight them. I don’t have the strength. The cold metal digs into my skin, and my body is limp in their grasp.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this empty.

As they pull me down the dark corridor, the whisper escapes my lips, barely audible, but the words hang in the air like a curse.

---

Amarantha: “I’m not weak…”

---

But the lie echoes back at me, hollow and haunting.

[gothicbabydollz]

100% get this is not everyone’s cup of tea but I would absolutely crumble if you ever wrote an Amarantha x fem! Reader drabble or fic involving sex pollen/dub con themes where she’s just making you eat her out

(I’m so sorry if this is disturbing)

Lap Cat

~~~

Pairings: Amarantha x f!reader

Warnings: this is a dark fic, read at your own risk. smut, dark themes, dubcon, mentions of torture/killing, oral (a!recieving)

Summary: You didn’t really think you’d get away with deceiving the Queen now did you?

Word count: around 2k

a/n: this ended up being a lot longer than i expected… (not proof read)

~~~

I imagine you being the daughter of a High Lord, which one is up to you but essentially you are very well known throughout Prythian.

Maybe you’re relatively younger, like 100 years old compared to other High Lord offspring’s.

Therefore, you’ve spent your first years of adulthood under Amarantha’s reign, and as your father is a high lord the Queen prefers to keep close - you’ve also spend the first years of adulthood stuck under the mountain.

This fuels your knowledge when conspiring against her, knowing your way around, having been accustomed to the horrific displays almost every night, being paid no mind from the Queen herself…or so you thought.

You were good. Truly. Yet Amarantha was better.

And you were still too young, too naive to truly attempt to deceive her.

Those helping you were tormented and slaughtered the previous nights. Your friends, your allies. Now hanging on the walls of the throne room. Under torture, you’re sure your name would have slipped out.

Now you were just counting down the hours until your time came.

The Attor himself was sent to retrieve you, and it took every ounce of strength you had left to keep the tears at way. As your mind ran wild of the possible ways the Queen would make you suffer.

When you’re released from the Attor’s punishing grip, your knees meet soft ground. Unlike the cool stone of the throne room. Cracking your eyes open, you stare at the detailed rug beneath you. One of the last things you’ll see. You run your shaking fingers through the wool, savouring the soft feel.

“I had expected better from you.”

You don’t bother trying to defend yourself, you know you’ve been caught. Instead you force your eyes upwards, looking towards the direction her voice came from.

You’re in the Queen’s personal chambers, you realise. As you see her standing in only a robe, so purple it could be black. Her crown still sits atop her head, copper hair weaved throughout. Her eyes find yours, cold and unforgiving, that prominent smirk evident on her mouth. “Up. Drink,” She gestures to the flagon of wine sitting on the table, the lone silver cup waiting to be filled. She holds its twin in her own hand, the eye trapped within her ring darts, as if telling you to do as she says.

Rising on shaky legs, you walk to the table. You struggle to suck air into your lungs, chest tight with the impending fear of death. You put all your effort in keeping the flagon steady as you pour yourself a cup of deep red wine. It looks like blood. Mother knows you’ve watched Amarantha draw pint after pint of blood from her victims. You can’t help the tears that line your eyes.

Poison. You think as you raise the cup to your mouth, sniffing the liquid within. “If I were going to kill you, do you honestly believe I would choose poison?” She asks, obviously having noticed your hesitance. You turn to face her, watching her settle on the edge of her large bed. You find your voice, “I wouldn’t know. You’re unpredictable.” The Queen laughs at that, a heartless sort of sound, “Drink.”

You do.

As the cool, bittersweet wine coats your throat, you pick up on what she said. “If you were to kill me?” She takes a sip from her own wine, humming, and points with a sharp, pointed nail to the floor at her feet. Kneel. Her gesture tells you. Tendrils of hope encase your mind, so you slowly walk towards her and settle onto your knees at her feet.

“I should kill you,” she looks down at you, with such terrifyingly beautiful features, “but i don’t want to.” Your heart pounds, could you get out of this alive? Amarantha reaches out, long, slender fingers catching your cheeks in her grip. She tilts your head to her will, “It would be an awful shame to ruin such a pretty face or the body hiding underneath that dress.” From the way she looks at you, it was if she could truly see beneath your clothes. You gulp.

She releases your face as she continues, “Killing you would be a waste of potential,” You follow her hands as they move to the tie holding her robe together, “I believe you could prove…useful. I simply need to know who’s side you’re on.” Your breath is caught in your throat as you watch the Queen strip off her robe, exposing the smooth, pale and utterly naked skin beneath. She sighs in her fresh nudity, her full, perky breasts shifting with the movement. Dark nipples peak in the chill air. You have to drag your stare away, instead down her stomach, flexing as she moves to get comfortable, propping her feet on the bed and ultimately widening the stance of her thighs, leaving you between them. With a view of her wet cunt, slick shining in your eyesight. It’s pathetic, that you can do absolutely nothing to stop the flood of arousal igniting a fire between your own legs. Guilt and lust cloud your mind as you stare at the Queen, awaiting her next move.

She lifts her cup, tilting it to allow the wine within to drip onto her skin. Dark against her pale complexion. The droplet runs down the valley of her breasts. “So, pet. What will it be?” Amarantha asks, smugness lacing her voice. Pet. The word echoes between your ears. That’s what she wants. Though she leaves the final choice to you. Would you rather be her plaything, her puppet? Or die.

You catch the droplet of wine as it reaches her mound. The taste melting on your tongue. Looking up at her, you follow the path back up, and she grins. It’s frightening. “Smart choice.” It all she says before tipping more wine over herself. This time, the liquid coats her breasts, and like a good little plaything, you clean it up. The Queen says nothing as your tongue licks at the plump flesh of her tit, collecting the wine before swallowing it down. She tilts her head when your tongue flattens over her nipple, testing you. So you pull then taut bud into your mouth, suckling like a kitten on her mother’s tit. Amarantha moans when you do, the sound shooting straight to the pits of your tummy. It shames you almost as much as it arouses you.

You chase the droplets that escaped your searching tongue. Finding one on the very same path as the first. You kiss your way back down her stomach, eyes watching her breasts as they rise and fall with each breath, nipples glistening with your spit. Her face only shows off her amusement, yet the smell of her gives it away, she’s aroused and getting off on having you bend to her will.

Her cunt is soaking, juices dripping onto the sheets beneath her. You know there’s no going back the second you put your mouth on her. Not if you want to live, that is. The thought scares you, shames you, that you’d rather live to serve her to escape your fear of death. You try to believe that you’re forcing yourself to become aroused, as a means to make her think you enjoy this. Truth is, you’re not sure.

Long fingers find home in your hair as you kiss down the length of her, inhaling her scent and feeling her slick smear over your lips. Nails lightly rake over your scalp and you look up, meeting her gaze while your tongue licks back up. Amarantha’s lips part when you catch on her clit, hint of a moan on her breath. You give her a few more kitten licks before wrapping your lips around her bud and sucking. That earns you a groan and tight grip on your hair, “That’s more like it. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You whimper against her, worried of what she’ll do if you fail to please her. Dipping down, your tongue delves between her folds, tasting her built up arousal. Her essence explodes on your tongue, sweeter than you could have ever imagined. She tastes like fine wine, and you lap her up, finding some sick pleasure in the taste of her on your tongue.

Urged to double your efforts, you press closer, slurping on her cunt, parting her with your tongue to dip inside. Amarantha moans, hips grinding into your face as she used the right grip on your hair to pull you closer. Your nose rubs against her clit, tongue massaging her inner walls in tandem. “Fuck, pet,” She purrs, meeting each thrust of your tongue, “That mouth. I think i’ll have keep you.” She clenches around your tongue when you whine against her in response, feeling drunk off her cunt. A wave of submission washing over your body.

Her breathing picks up as you continue your ministration. Burying your face in her sex, tongue pushing inside her and exploring her soft, warm walls, searching for spots to make her tighten and moan. Your nose is pushed against her hot clit, adding to the stimulation you’re giving her. You find yourself releasing frequent sounds of pleasure, losing yourself in the taste and feel of her cunt. Amarantha relishes in you, grinning as she moans out, loud and filled with lust. She’s pulling at your hair so hard, it hurts. And her thighs close around your head, keeping you locked against her.

“Like licking cunt, don’t you?” Her words come out as a groan, yet you still depict ever ounce of mockery laced in her tone. You watch her stomach flex, feel her cunt tighten rhythmically. Along with the slick and spit dripping down your chin, your cheeks, your neck. Making a complete mess of you. “At least that’s one thing you’ll be good for,” she laughs through her moans, “Gonna make me fucking cum on that pretty face of yours, mmph fuck-”

She does. The Queen of Prythian climaxes hard, thighs trembling on either side of your face. She cries out a string of curses, drenching your chin with her juices. You fuck her through it, keeping up pace to drag her climax out for as long as possible. Your tongue glides in and out of her pulsing hole, collecting each wave of cum that escapes her.

You don’t stop until Amarantha drops her thighs and forces your head back with a sharp tug. Her hand wraps around your throat before you can suck down a breath of well needed air. You choke out a yelp, eyes widening in a mix of fear and surprise.

Amarantha leans down until the tip of her nose brushes yours, and you can feel her breath fanning across your face. Her expression has changed. No amusement lingers in her gaze. Only ice is left, serious and unforgiving. “You are mine.” Her grip tightens, “Always have been, always will be. Understood?” It’s not a question. You’re smart enough to know that.

“Yes,” your voice is a whisper, strained due to the hold she has on your throat. Her eyes darken. “Yes, my Queen.”

Satisfied, she releases her grip. “Good.” You’re finally able to breathe, dropping onto your hands until you no longer feel lightheaded. “Why don’t you pour us another drink, hm? The night is still early, and i’m not done with you yet.”

This is your life now, you realise. Utterly at your Queen’s mercy. As she said…her pet.

[ellievickstar]

Friendly Monster (Azriel x Reader)

A/N: I love procrastination and I refuse to stop generating new ideas and going back to this one, let’s please my intrusive thoughts and make a fic based on my impulsive idea so this is Day 1 of my 300 followers week! 

Summary: An ACOTAR one shot that paints the life of Rhysan’s youngest sister.

Inspired by: Nothing I ended up scrapping the original inspiration

Request: N/A

Warnings: Angst, Beron Vanserra, Amarantha, mentions of Rhys’s trauma from under the mountain. Mentions of rape.  

~*~*~*~*~

Growing up with Rhysand and Cassian was a pain. You spent your time with Morrigan in the court of nightmares but when your brother and his friend visited, or vice versa, they were assholes. Rhys and Cassian were like any other pair of reckless, stupid, ignorant illyrian boys, even with hard training, they were still cocky and had egos the size of the entirety of Prythian. 

They constantly pushed and prodded at your buttons, you were frustrated with the constantly, however, you were never furious with them. Not even when Cassian slept with Mor. The one time you were truly furious with them was when they were making fun of Azriel for not being able to fly. 

Something about their lack of sympathy ticked you off, the scars of Azriel’s hands were a good indication of his situation before the Illyrian camps. You berated Rhysand whenever he laughed at Azriel’s meek attempts at flying and told them off constantly. 

And that was somehow home. 

During the war, you were kept away from prying eyes and Amarantha somehow never got wind of you. You never followed you older sister and mother to the Illyrian camps because you had been busy sorting out some issues with Keir with your father, something you would always regret. 

When they were slaughtered you were devastated and fell deeply sick, by the time you recovered you were fatherless and your only living relatives were Morrigan and Rhys. You sobbed into you brother’s arms as you grieved over the lost of your father, even though he was still emotionally abusive. 

You were so much younger then Rhys and that reality hit you hard as you witnessed your brother harden his demeanour in front of your eyes, in front of others he became cold and distant. In a way, you also mourned the loss of your brother. 

That’s when the day of Rhysand’s party he threw for Amarantha came. 

Your first mistake was following Rhysand to that party. 

Your second mistake was not running. 

You last mistake was coming out of hiding. 

You screamed when you realised that Amarantha had taken control of your brother. Amarantha giggled and the sound made you want to throw up. You reached out to your brother’s mind, devastated as you realised that Amarantha had made him shut you out. 

He glanced at you once, the mask he wore cracking as he seemed to try to communicate the words that he would never be able to openly express for th next fifty years. I’m sorry. 

Tears streamed down your face as you watched your brother change again, as he became the swaggering, arrogant, loyal servant to the one woman you begun to despise. You watched for fifty years as she dragged him to her bedroom and used him in ways that you couldn’t begin to imagine. Every Starfall you were forced to entertain Amarantha’s goons, every Starfall another heart break, and maybe that changed you too. 

The worse was when you were gifted to the oldest son of the Autumn Court one night when Rhysand broke the rules. You whipped your head to your brother as you were dragged away by Eris, you screamed and screamed, pleading for him to do something, but he stayed rooted to the ground and watched. 

You remembered the fear that overwhelmed you as Eris snarled at you to shut up. You remember the opening of the door as you were lifted bridal style once you calmed down. You remember that he told you to start screaming and crying again. You remember screaming your throat raw until you felt like you were going to pass out. You remember the feeling of arms wrapping around you as you were placed into a warm bath. You remember Eris murmuring in your ear, trying to comfort you. You remember falling asleep. 

It was only at the end of those fifty years were you able to explain everything to Rhysand, he thanked Eris in private and you hugged the red-headed male who had grown to love you like a brother as well. He made you swear to tell him if anyone hurt you so he could burn them alive himself. That made you laugh, but you weren’t sure if he was serious. 

You stayed under the mountain as you ensured that everyone could leave. That was when Tarquin approached you. 

“I know your not that much older then me, any tips to get all the old bastard’s respects,” He tried. You were startled at the words he used, breaking into a smile as you began to share some of your experiences with the High Lords. How you visited Kallias after the attack and made sure that he understood that it was Amarantha’s fault, how you protected Thesan’s lover when Amarantha tried to ask why he never slept with any women — though it may have also been because he wasn’t attracted t any of them — you even shared how Eris helped you all those years ago. 

Tarquin listened intently to your stories before you finally bid him goodbye and winnowed to the moonstone palace. There, you found Rhys on the floor having a full blown freak out while Mor was trying to comfort him without laughing. 

You soon understood the situation, you wanted to smack Rhys’s head when you found out about the bargain, and you wanted to throttle him for deciding that he would not tell Feyre about the bond. After his — comical to say the least— freak out, you winnowed to the House of Wind and was immediately greeted with huge arms wrapping around you as you were spun around. Cassian cheered as he practically shouted to the whole of Velaris that you had returned home. 

Azriel smiled and you opened your arms, he rolled his eyes as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you shrieked, pounding on his back while Rhys just pointed a certain finger st you when you cussed at him when he refused to help you. 

When Azriel finally put you down, you spent the rest of the night with your family, sharing the time under the mountain. Though it wasn’t great, you all cried together and that was important. Mor was astounded to hear of Eris’s change of character and considered that maybe the bastard could change after all. 

Once everyone was tired, you waved goodbye to everyone as they retired to their rooms for the night. You helped Nuala and Cerridwen and bid them good night before approaching Azriel’s room. 

Pushing the door open, you were met with Azriel’s hazel eyes as he closed the door. You sighed as you collapsed, tired, into his arms and he held you quietly against his warm body. You sighed, content to stay there the rest of the night. 

“Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,” Azriel suddenly said. You looked up and realised that you had been screaming your thoughts down the bond. “We found out just before I went under the mountain, give him some time to adjust the the good things then we’ll tell him after I finally accept the bond,” You said simply. 

And there was your secret. Azriel was your mate. You had found out a few days before Rhys’s party, you had planned on accepting the bond, but you never had the chance to. You had wondered if Azriel had waited for you, if he would have moved on… 

Azriel rubbed a thumb against you palm, snapping you out of your thoughts, mumbling that your think too much. 

“I could never replace you, you would be the only one who could love a monster like me,” He grumbled and shifted you to lie down next to him as he snaked an arm around your abdomen. Though he had said that in good light, you knew that deep down he meant it. Your heart broke a little and you turned to face him. 

“You might think that your a monster, but you’re mine,” You hummed as you traced circles against his cheek. “My friendly monster,” You giggled and he chuckled. The sound reverberated against the walls of the room, and everything seemed to finally be at peace. 

~*~*~*~*~ Taglist: ask me if you want to be tagged! tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing@flightlesslittlebirdie  @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123  @gigisssz  @cityofidek  @aetherl0l @judig92

[sjmvillainweek]

SJM Villain Week Day 2 Masterlist (Prompts: Planning/Weakness)

Fanfiction

Echoes of a Shattered Heart (Erawan x OC) by @sonics-atelier (AO3 Link) Wrap Me In Your Skin And Bones (Beron Vanserra x Lady of Autumn) by @achaotichuman (AO3 Link) Amarantha Interview by @merwgue Beron Vanserra by @shadowqueenjude A Burden To Carry by @readychilledwine

Fanart

Amarantha plotting by @bonecarversbestie Maeve and her walking shoes by @climbthemountain2020 Ianthe by @loonylooly The Unfading and The Scorched by @geniemillies Maeve and Athril by @katharsiii

[loonylooly]

i would like to thank Sjm villain week because im working on stuff for it and amarantha is so ridiculously fun to draw

[bonecarversbestie]

Where did Amarantha get her riddles from?

Like does she have a copy of Riddles and Brainteasers to Expand Your Mind or does she stay up late into the night pacing her room to make them up?

Does she write down every riddle she hears in case she needs to use it on an illiterate teenager in the future?

[readychilledwine]

Charms and Spells

SJM Villains Week - Day 3 - Secret Skills

Summary - You were far too happy to be Amarantha's test subject. Perhaps you should have thought differently when you saw the brand new spellbook

Warnings - Dubcon, sex pollen with a twist, manipulation, degradation, fxf, oral (reader receiving), pet play, mind control

A/n - Listen, we're running a little behind here for @sjmvillainweek, but I've been so busy loving everything you all are posting! I'm playing a catch-up game here with editing, so there may be errors I missed. I firmly believe Amarantha was a witch. We hear a lot in the ACOTAR world that witches steal power and use things that are not theirs to have access to. That fits perfectly what we know about Amarantha, and if SJM was ever bold enough to give us a prequel, I'd do many things to have Amarantha more fleshed out.

Oh, and a PS, you'll see this reader character again later with some other Amarantha smut that I'll be posting 👀

🗡Villains Week Masterlist🗡Master Masterlist🗡

Amarantha watched as you sat, blinking at her after she had you drink the potion from her newest spellbook. Her nails were a soft thrum beating against the wood as you shivered from the oncoming waves of warmth spreading through you. “Is it working,” she sighed, slightly annoyed. “Are you feeling.. different?”

You couldn't bring yourself to answer her, body beginning to ache as you attempted to focus on anything, “What- what was that?”

“Oh, so you now you have enough brain power to ask?” Amarantha tisked you as she moved, your eyes suddenly drawn to the sway of her hips, far more than usual. “That, pet, was a potion meant to make the person who consumes it cave to their more primal needs.”

“It's sex magic,” you clarified quickly. “I can read between lines.”

Amarantha glared at your blunt response, “Is it working then?”

“Does it look like it is,” your tone was becoming more clipped, dangerous to use with her regardless of the two of you being friends.

You two had known each other and stood by each other's side for years. You had always blindly followed, believing in Amarantha and her goals for your homelands. Your faith in her was unmatched. Your loyalty undying. You would follow her to the grave, your Fates intertwined in a way that you both didn't want to acknowledge.

And, perhaps, you gave blind faith too easily as heat turned to pain, a whimper tearing through your throat. “I can help you,” she moved to you with a grace that made your skin crawl. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“I'm so mad at you,” you grit the sentence out. “You should have-”

“You could have asked,” she cut you off in a bored tone. “You could have looked at the book.”

“I trusted you.”

“That is your mistake, not mine. You know I thrive in magic and potions.”

The tense between you two grew, rising to a fever pitch before she sighed. Amarantha moved closer again, her hands sliding under the shirt you were wearing, “I can help,” the shirt came off without you responding. “Don't you want to feel better?”

It was a haze of motions from there, soft kisses with a lingering taste of wine, nails scratching down your chest, your skirt sliding down your thighs. She had played you for a fool, yet here you were, caving to her desires as she secretly got what she'd wanted. Her hands Were soft as she finally got to memorize every dip and curve, deciding she owned every inch of you that she touched.

She memorized every shiver, every time you let out a soft gasp or whine as she began kissing her way down, tasting the unique salt of your skin. When she final reached her destination, she only chuckled. “You are just a desperate thing. Whiny and needy.” You blushed at comment, opening your mouth to defend yourself. “Pathetic,” she whispered. “You are just absolutely pathetic. Doing whatever you can to earn my love and affection. Is that all you are, y/n? A tool for my pleasure and entertainment?”

It should have stung to hear those words, to hear what she truly thought of your years of loyalty to her. Yet all it did was settle arousal further into your body.

It was new, exciting. Being mocked by her was having an affect on your body neither of you could have predicted. Amarantha seemed to notice, her tone becoming more cruel as she continued to degrade you and kiss your thighs.

“Now spread your legs and behave, whore,” she kissed along your heat as she commanded you. “I earned this treat and you're going to hand it to me.”

She wasted no time, burying her face into you, tasting what she had decided was gold between your thighs. Every lick was planned, rhythmic, never allowing you a moment of peace to breathe. A hand reached up to caress your breast, pinching your nipple as she flicked your aching clit.

Her potion had you reeling from every touch, every soft vibration her moaning made against you. You could have died right here, right now, and you would have died happy.

She showed no signs of letting up on you as she pushed her tongue into you, pads of her fingers taking over the swollen bundle of nerves where her tongue had been. “Already,” she clicked her tongue with a smirk as your legs began to shake, “how disappointing.”

Perhaps it was her tone. Perhaps it was the potion. Perhaps it was everything, but you fell apart then and there as her motions began again, an even deeper haze seeming to lock in as you tangled your hand into her soft red hair. She worked you through the high, smirking against you as she knew what was to come.

You had been mindless for her before this. So eager to please and do what you could to make her happy.

Now you'd have no choice. Not with the permanent effects this potion had.

You shouldn't have trusted her and Amarantha knew that deep down as she put a collar and leash on you, making you sit as she read through her new spellbook.

“Ah, there it is! See, pet? A way to steal powers,” she dog eared the page before grabbing your chin. “You belong like this and I am going to ruin you.”

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