#Cloak The Scribe

[digiindie]

Cloak The Scribe ft. Sinatris – Man, Listen (@cloakthescribeofficial @sinatris)

Man, Listen (feat. Sinatris) by Cloak The Scribe

[terra-tortoise]

Camural (#92033072) for dtday

[vividxpages]

༉‧˚📖❀༉‧₊˚."the craving"༉‧˚🤍❀༉‧₊˚.PART 2

Read Part 1 here 🤍

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 7200

summary: After your night at the inn, the tensions between you and your betrothed Jacaerys are running high. Finding yourself curious about the kind of lascivious literature your prince has been reading, you decide to go on the search yourself - with pleasant consequences for the both of you…

warnings: pining, the return of the infamous Targaryen kamasutra diary, oral sex (female receiving), making out, handjob, aftercare, cuddling

a/n: there is going to be a third and final part after this one <3 let me know what you think, I always love to chat and thank you for the love Part 1 got!

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃

You had always loved the library of Dragonstone.

The endless shelves bursting at the seams with history provided a peace and quiet you sometimes found lacking in your life, especially recently with the dark shadow of war looming over your family.

As you wandered through the many narrow passages between the books, you felt your mind calm down. With only the distant sound of the wind outside and a few busy scribes working around you, you dedicated yourself to your mission of the day.

You were not going to leave the library empty handed, not before you’d found what you desired; the mysterious diary Jacaerys had spoken of, in the night back at the inn…

The truth was simple, yet tangled and slowly driving you to the brink of your sanity; every night since your return to Dragonstone, you found yourself unable to sleep, at the brim of madness. Memories of Jacaerys and you, pressed against each other in the small bed as he slowly took you apart with his fingers and lips, haunted you.

You wondered if it only had been a desired dream, since your betrothed had gone back to being sickeningly sweet and attentive to you after your return. Jacaerys had taken most of his mother’s blow and the angered worry for the both of you, defending his choice to keep you safe through the night in front of the Queen’s entire council.

Standing beside him, your cheeks had been undeniably red as he had recounted the night of the storm, purposefully leaving out the part where he had fingered you to a mind-blowing orgasm, of course.

After the questioning, you two had fallen back into the same old dance and its rhythm as if your feelings for one another still had to be suppressed. But perhaps being sweet and chivalrous was Jace’s own method to keep himself under control before your long-desired union.

After all, you certainly did not have such methods for yourself.

The late hours in your chambers had been spent staring at the ceiling and listening to the waves crashing against Dragonstone. Tossing and turning, you had only been able to imagine the ghost of his touches on your skin, over and over, until you had to either firmly press your legs together or rarely indulge in your own wild imagination and the world of pleasure Jacaerys had opened up for you…

Since his quarters were close to yours, you couldn’t help but wonder if the same frustration sought him out at night and if he dreamed about your lips on his, your wetness on his veiny hand as he touched your most intimate part…

You took a deep breath and focused once again, traveling along the shelf where diaries and old reports were stored. A pleasant burn rested in your stomach, knowing Jace might’ve stood in the exact same place as you or would even return here to find that his precious book had been taken…

You grinned as your fingers drifted over a particular bound spine, a victorious flutter going through your chest as you noticed the lack of dust on it, although someone had seemed to hide it in the second row.

This was going to be a very interesting evening.

A little later, you were back in your quarters, curled up in the cozy velvet armchair by the high windows and completely absorbed in the book resting on your lap.

The diary you had hidden underneath your cloak on your journey back was open, a well-kept secret of your family now in your hands. In the privacy of your own four walls, you silently thanked your prince for his erudition as your eyes darted across the old rough pages.

You quickly discovered that the diary had been written by a nameless female ancestor of yours, her old ink writing elegant but faded. Her entries stretched themselves over nearly two decades, starting with her very first intimate encounter with a man and continuing to describe the adventures of her youth until she eventually found her forever love.

At the bottom of the very first page, she had scribbled: to all the princesses after me and their princes who should do good to take proper care of them. The little dedication made you smile.

Soon, you had begun to devour each entry without even noticing, the thrill of knowing Jace’s fingers had turned the same pages only spurring you on in your eagerness. And this diary was certainly…something.

It was lustful and forbidden and very, very detailed. You nearly choked on your own breath once as your dear ancestor had not spared any sexual details in her vivid descriptions, the stories sometimes accompanied by tasteful sketches of what her tumbling had looked like. You had never seen anything like it and soon, you found yourself squeezing your thighs together with your heart pounding in excitement.

Your thoughts wandered away from the current story and imagined how Jace must’ve felt reading those filthy passages. In front of your inner eye, you saw him sprawled out in his bed, dark curls resting on the pillows and his face brightened by the candles on his bedside table.

Had he been as aroused as you were feeling now?

In the inn, he had told you all he could’ve imagined while reading was you and your cheeks burned with realization, possessing the full knowledge of what he had meant back then. Did he find relief for himself when it had become too much, clinging to the book with one hand as the other slowly played with himself underneath the blankets? Did he whisper your name, squeezing his beautiful eyes shut as he-

A knock at your door sharply cut through the silence and you startled, nearly dropping your precious reading matter. Quickly, you cursed and put it back on the small table beside you, brushing out your skirts and taking a deep breath.

“Yes?”

Your heart skipped a beat as the door opened and Jacaerys peeked into your room, a small worried frown on his youthful face. “Good evening. Are you alright?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to come inside. Your betrothed closed the door behind himself and walked up to you as your eyes began to travel on their own, over the red and black of his attires, his dark curls lush and glossy in the candlelight of your room.

“I was worried about you.” Jace confessed to you, raising your hand to his plump lips and kissing the knuckles in greeting. This was a new habit of his and you were not complaining, although the small gesture always made you weak in the knees. “We missed you at dinner. I brought you something to eat, in case you weren’t feeling well.”

Only now you realized how dark the sky behind your windows had gotten already. Gods, how much time had you already spent with this book?

Your chest warmed at the sight of a well-filled plate in his hand, presenting everything he knew you liked from the kitchens. With a grateful smile, you admitted: “Thank you. I’m alright, I simply must’ve forgotten the time. I was…occupied.”

Jace raised an amused eyebrow at your odd explanation, placing the plate on the table, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Shall I leave you to it then?”

“No.” You answered quickly, your heart already longing for him although he was right in front of you. “I’d love some company. We’ve both been busy lately.”

Lately. Ever since the night of the storm, but you had not talked about the events at the inn since then.

Jacaerys let out a small – relieved? – sigh at your answer and the two of you sat down in the armchairs, your stomach growling at the variety of food your betrothed had organized for you. After a moment, you lifted your gaze to his and added quietly: “I missed you.” And it was true in more than one way.

“I missed you, too.” He replied in a heartbeat and watched you peacefully as you began to eat. The unexpected dinner was a wonderful treat after a long day like this, but it was not enough to distract you from the fact that you had not really been alone like this ever since that night. “I have not been neglecting you on purpose, I promise. You are way too dear to me for that.”

You looked at him with big eyes, quietly munching on a small sweetmeat as you shook your head. “I was not thinking such a thing, Jace. I know how busy your day is, now more than ever. Has your mother fully forgiven you by now?”

As you had foreseen, Rhaenyra had been out of her mind with worry when you had not returned as appointed and had given her son a very stern talk right in the dragon’s cave where you had eventually arrived at with your dragons. (The more you thought about it, the more you wondered if your dragons would’ve been able to take the late flight back to Dragonstone that night. If their sudden change of behavior – your own creature more affectionate towards Jace and Vermax oddly cuddly with you - could be any indicator, you almost suspected your beasts had somehow made a pact with each other to bring you closer…)

Jace sighed and rested his head against the back of his armchair. “I try to make it up to her every day, believe me. But if thrown into a situation like this again, I would not choose any different. I’d always choose you. Us, together and safe.”

“I’d choose the same.” You whispered breathily, your heart singing way too fast for an innocent confession between betrotheds like this. Underneath your conversation, something desiring and dark slumbered, only waiting for the right moment to jump out and remind you of your spent time between the sheets together. You swallowed, quietly adding: “You protected me that night, from the storm and my own reckless decision I would’ve made and I am grateful for it. I have told the Queen so myself.”

“I know.” He gave you a soft smile, the one that was only reserved for you, his princess. “I think deep down she has forgiven me already. She just likes to see me working even harder these days.”

You chuckled, taking a bite of a ripe strawberry with relish. When you looked up again, Jace’s eyes already were on your lips, how they curled around the sweet fruit and your tongue darted out to lick the juice from your fingertips, his dark pupils blown wide, body tense.

Suddenly, the dress on you felt way too tight for your body, your senses widening under his intense stare. But just like that, the moment was over and Jacaerys cleared his throat, causing you to go back to your dinner.

You wanted to curse yourself for your own timidness. You had shared far more than a space like this before your betrothed knew how you tasted and felt on his fingers and even before your wedding night had happened. So why were you so flustered out of the sudden?

In an unobservant moment, Jace casually reached for the book on your table and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. You were helpless to watch as his eyes widened shortly with recognition, looking intently at the subtle cover.

“This is…” You had no idea how you wanted to end this sentence.

Jacaerys opened the diary right where you had placed a soft ribbon between the pages, his eyes skimming over the page before he looked up at you with a sly grin. “Ah. One of my favorite chapters.”

Oh gods.

Both embarrassment and excitement pulsed through you as heat crept up your neck at his knowing smile.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He asked adoringly, his fingertips softly tracing the ribbon. “Was my description not vivid enough so you simply had to find out for yourself, to see if I lied?”

You proudly lifted your chin, trying to feign confidence and ignore the shaking of your hands at his look fueled with unfiltered desire.

“Of course you have not lied to me. You were way too…” You bit your lip, your mind traveling back to the way he skillfully crooked his fingers against your sweet spot, dirty words leaving his heavenly mouth as he praised you… You cleared your throat, brushing your hands out over your skirts. “I knew you weren’t lying, but I had to see for myself. For…educational purposes.”

Jace nodded slowly and hummed thoughtfully. “I knew you were curious…” He leaned forward and offered you the book back. A notch confused, you took the diary from his hands, the old clothbound almost familiar already in your grasp. “And believe me, I am not here to interrupt your education tonight, princess.”

A low fire sizzled through you at the mischievous smile he gave you. It was a smile you couldn’t resist and you prayed you knew what this meant for you tonight. After all, you were going to be Jacaerys’ wife, sooner rather than later, and he was going to be your husband. You blinked at him innocently before you reclined against the pillow in your back, your fingers brushing over the golden edges of the diary.

“How considerate of you, my prince.” You said sweetly and a quiet exhale left Jace’s lips, clearly affected by your playful undertone. “Maybe we can learn together. That is, if my betrothed doesn’t have any other plans for the night?”

A dazzling grin made its way on Jacaerys’ face and with an elegance only the prince could possess, he leaned back against his armchair as well. He gestured invitingly to the diary in your hands and nodded at you encouragingly. “By all means, go on.”

Gods, in what situation were the two of you stirring yourselves into once again?

You forced yourself to remain composed in front of him, opening the book once more and beginning to read. But you only managed to drift over a few words before Jacaerys’ voice cut through the comfortable silence of the room and your head snapped up.

"Out loud." He said, simple yet demanding, his eyes burning embers sending a shiver down your spine.

"W-what?" Your voice sounded thin, perhaps a little intimidated but also...intrigued by your betrothed's command. The look in his eyes was the same he executed in the council room, sharp and attentive and willing to fight for what was his.

"I want to hear your voice." He explained, softer now. "Please read to me, princess."

You stared at him and the heat from before in your rosy cheeks started to spread like dragon fire, claiming your entire being. The dress on you felt way too tight and although you were not wearing your clammy riding leathers anymore, the same tension had now taken possession over you. And it was all because of the prince seated across from you.

Jace rested his chin in the palm of his hand, licking his plump lips as he kept your eyes captive with his own. After a moment, he nodded, a small encouragement you needed to return to the page in front of you.

With your finger ghosting over the soft ribbon, you began to read:

“When I met him that night, it was like our previous encounters from before had vanished, leaving me alone with my carnal desire…” You read to him, feeling him shift in his seat just outside of your vision. “The prince has been kind to me before, but as the hours went by and our wine glasses emptied, there was something else in his eyes, something I felt wanted to devour me and make me his. Taking him into my bed was inevitable and we both knew it.”

It was scandalous and wrong, to speak such lewd thoughts out loud with your betrothed right before your very eyes, but something made you continue, your voice growing stronger as you carried on.

“I was not aware of my own body like this until he made me, taking my hand in his own and showing me what I was capable of…” You swallowed thickly, the words hitting way too close to home. “Like he was painting flowers on my skin, my body bloomed under his touch and awakened me as if I had only slept my life away before…”

You thought of the rain splattering against the window, how Jacaerys had undressed you and how right it had felt to let yourself be kissed by him, your bodies melting together underneath the blanket until you had forgotten where you began and he ended. There had been safety back then and you knew there was safety in this moment as well, your Jace a steady and relying presence by your side.

“He surprised me, in more than one way, but what surprised me the most was when he went on his knees for me…” You lifted your head at the sound of fabric rustling and breathed out shakingly as you watched Jace stand up from his chair and kneel down in front of yours, looking up at you with his lips slightly open.

“What are you doing?” You whispered breathlessly.

“You’ve read this chapter before?” He asked back, gulping.

You nodded slowly, not able to look away from his pretty eyes. “Twice. It is written quite…poetically.”

Jace chuckled, easing your nerves as he softly stroked your naked ankle. Scandalous, indeed. “So you know how the story goes, my love?”

Gods, he was going to be the death of you.

“Yes…” You whispered, not trusting your voice anymore.

“If you’d allow me, I’d like to give you the same pleasure.” Jace proposed slowly, his voice a little hoarse. “I-…I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you ever since we shared a bed. I try to be…a good betrothed, but every night I close my eyes, I still hear your sweet voice, I feel your body against mine and it’s driving me mad with want.”

You were shaking as you leaned forward and cupped his cheek with one hand, successfully making him halt in his confessional ramble. Softly, you stroked along his smooth cheek with your thumb as he melted into the loving gesture. “Jacaerys…Why do you think I wanted to find the diary like you did? If you declare yourself mad, then we are both out of our minds. I have been thinking about you too as I was reading. You are all I can think about and I desire to be with you again.”

He looked at you like you were the sun, the whole world to him. “So you’d let me…?”

You nodded fiercely, your finger drifting over his cheekbone and his bottom lip. You exhaled softly as he pressed a quick kiss to the pad of your fingertip. “I trust you. I know you’ll take good care of me.”

“I will, always.” Jace vowed and took your hand in his once again, this time lifting your bare wrist to his mouth and softly kissing it, making you sigh longingly. Then, he gently led it back to the book in your lap and smiled at you. “Read to me, princess.”

You cleared your throat, trying to push all nerves away from you as you continued with the story.

“I was overly aware of his presence between my thighs, soothing yet commanding as he slowly unwrapped me, a prize he had dutifully won with his chivalrous affections…” You read and tried not to squirm as Jace slowly began to lift your light skirts, exposing your naked legs to the warm air of your chamber. You felt his hot breath fan over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in his wake. When his knuckles brushed along your calf, you bit your lip, suppressing a small groan.

“What happens next?” Jace wanted to know, his voice warm and deep and lulling you into a certain headspace. Briefly, your eyes met as he exposed your knees and with a sigh, your legs opened, making space for whatever he planned for you. And oh, how you knew what he planned and how much it affected you already, knowing exactly what was going to happen…

“He took his time and ignored my pleas, relishing every little buck of my hips as he neared the sacred place where I desired him the m-most-“ You faltered as you felt his lips on your knee, one single featherlight kiss before he moved on to the other leg, repeating his actions.

His hands brushed appreciatively over your skirts and higher and higher they went until you heard him exhale in awe. “You’re as beautiful as I remember…May I?”

“Yes.” You lifted your hips, assisting him in his efforts to get your skirt out of the way, but just as you lost yourself in the sight of him on your knees for you, he admonished you with a single look and nodded to the diary between you. You laughed quietly, your head spinning from the sensation of his hand stroking up and down your leg. “I believe I might’ve gotten betrothed to a devil instead of a prince.”

“A devil wouldn’t do what I want to do to you, princess.” He murmured, his warm palms now resting on your thighs, oh so gently drawing little patterns into your skin.

You soldiered on bravely, although it was getting harder to think when he spoke to you like this. “I was no stranger to the secret pleasures happening behind closed doors, but with him, I felt like I have never truly known them. He looked at me like I was his personal meal at a feast and he was a man that has been starving, desperate for- oh!”

You stumbled over your words, a hiss escaping your lips as his knuckles suddenly brushed along the damp fabric of your underwear. The sensation of his touch on the wet spot over your folds sent a sharp shiver down your spine and the glassy look in Jace’s eyes, fixated on your clothed center in front of him, did not help to ease the tension in you.

“For?” Jacaerys repeated dazed, licking his lips before he softly mouthed at your naked thighs, the muscles quivering underneath his sweet assault.

“For her.” You exhaled, but he only cocked his eyebrow at you.

“Come on, princess, you know the word she uses.” He tempted you teasingly, lazily reaching out and tracing a circle over your soaked-

“Her cunt-“ You breathed out, sweat gathering on your brow as your mind rushed down your body, making it harder and harder to concentrate on the diary in your hand. Your eyes fluttered closed as he peppered kisses along your inner thighs and his curls tickled your smooth skin.

Distantly, you felt his fingers unlace the little ribbons on the side of your underwear, gently exposing your heavenly center to him for the very first time. You heard him groan under his breath, his imagination during your first encounter underneath the blanket exceeded by the sweet reality of your weeping cunt for him.

“Princess…” He hummed absently, shuffling closer to you, his eyes flickering back and forth between your wet rosy folds and your half-lidded eyes. “I want to know how the story continues, don’t you?”

A tiny whimper left your lips as you tried to make sense of the words in front of you with Jacaerys so close to where you needed him so desperately now. “My cunt was a flower blooming under his attention and with each touch of his, another leaf seemed to blossom, making me f-forget myself and…gods, Jace, please-“

Finally giving in to your pleas, Jace pressed a kiss to your aching clit and set you aflame with it.

A surprised gasp left your lips as your hips twitched on their own and you dug your fingers into the armrest by your side. Your taste only barely grazed his lips, yet Jace groaned and rested his forehead against your thigh for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose himself while he stroked the soft flesh under your belly.

Jace slowly lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders – the way he had often dreamed about – and nudged you to continue, his burning gaze not separating from your pink pussy.

 “His tongue licked fire into me, unforgiving and merciless at my open whimpers and when I thought the pleasure I felt could not ascend more, he proved me wrong-“ You bit down hard on your lip as he dove in again, kissing your folds and clit like he had kissed your blue lips at the inn, experimental and delicately and forbiddenly good. “-and pushed me further, beyond the veil and further.”

“Gods, you taste divine…” Jace murmured against you, his tongue darting out to lick one fat stripe up your cunt, making you release a long drawn-out moan you could not keep in anymore if you tried. “Let me hear you, princess, I want to hear every little sound from your sweet lips.”

“T-the pressure in me kept tightening itself as he played me like a delicate violin, his spit mingling- gods, fuck-“ You squeezed your legs shut as Jace licked and sucked at you, the noises where his mouth worked outright dirty and driving you insane. “-mingling with my own juices, his eyes never leaving mine as he lapped at me…”

You had no idea if you were even speaking a coherent language anymore. You were floating, levitating above yourself and the boy between your thighs, devouring you as if you were the best thing Jace had ever been granted to taste.

Jacaerys once again did not let it show that he was just as new to any of this as you were, expertly eating you out like he had never done anything else. He kissed your cunt with eager passion, varying between slow licks of his tongue and fiery kisses and sucking against your clit until you could not keep up with him anymore, your body melting into the armchair behind you.

As you stumbled once again over a sentence, you mewled and instinctively held on to the first thing in reach. It was the best unconscious decision your body could’ve ever made for you.

Jacaerys let out a guttural groan, the vibrations of his sound sending a jolt through you as he moaned right into your cunt, your fingers tightening their newly found hold on his soft curls. His fingers dug into your plush thighs and you lost yourself just a little more when he looked up to you.

His swollen lips were glistening with your wetness and Jace looked drunk on you, his eyes hazily glazed over as he held your stare, leaning into your hand holding on to his hair.

Your head fell back, your mouth opening to a silent blissed-out o-shape at the intensity of his mouth on you and before you knew it, you found yourself begging for your betrothed, his long fingers carefully spreading your folds apart for him.

“Jacaerys… please-“ You whimpered, brows scrunched together and breath hitching as he soothed his fingers over your sensitive flesh once more. The book became useless in your hands as the words blurred together in front of your vision. “I can’t go on anymore, please.”

He barely separated himself from you as he sighed into your cunt, deeply breathing you in and intending to never unlearn this feeling. “I know you can do it, princess. Come on, I want to know how the story ends, don’t you?”

You couldn't care less about how the godsdamned story would end anymore, but you saw the way Jace was looking at you, the dragon of your house lingering just beneath the surface. He was serious and you would not leave this seat before he had you right where he wanted; on the same high edge he had led you to in that tiny little bed…

And oh, how fast you were racing towards it.

“There was no escape from the heaven he brought on me and as- oh…as I felt my end nearing, I knew I was ruined for an…any m-man after him who’d dare to compete- ah, Jace, a-against him-“ You whimpered, your thighs shaking on top of his shoulders as he went on and on on you, his perfect mouth nearly making you go cross-eyed for a moment.

Suddenly, your vision whitened out, the diary slipping from your limb grasp and falling to the ground as Jace’s tongue breached your walls. Your back arched and you let out an incoherent string of curses, humming and gasping pathetically as his nose rubbed against your clit and Jace’s long lashes fluttered closed. You could not help but stare at him in wonder, your beautiful betrothed worshiping at the altar of your hips, dragging his skilled tongue through the mess he had made of you.

He was exquisite.

And finally, you seemed to have fulfilled your reading duty and he was satisfied with the outcome.

Jace groaned deeply and placed his hands on either side of your waist, drawing you closer to the edge of the chair and towards his mouth, his hot breath fanning over you and sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you close, princess?” He mumbled lowly, not bothering to separate himself from you, his lips sending little jolts through your nerves.

“S-so close…” You nodded quickly, head thrown back and fingers still carding through his hair, his hands and mouth on you the only things that still kept you on this world. “’s so good, Jacaerys, I’m going to…”

His hands found yours and as he laced your fingers together, he kissed your swollen wet clit again, gently suckling on it and moving his head just a little bit, his teeth lasciviously grazing over you-

You let go of yourself, combusting into a million little stars through his guiding touches. Your peak was washing over you in powerful waves, your hips still grinding against Jace’s eager mouth, chasing the taste of your release on his tongue as if it was the saving water in a hopeless desert.

“Perfect…” Jace murmured as he looked up to you in awe, his cheek admiringly resting on your thigh and you let out a breathless chuckle, chest heaving and heart thundering as he licked his lips clean of your release. “You are divine, my love.”

You were puddy in his safe hands, sighing happily as he kissed your leg and swiftly scooped you up into his awaiting arms. You gladly clung to him and as he carried you towards your enticing bed, your disheveled skirts were dragged behind you over the floor as your legs wrapped around his waist, one of his hands soothingly brushing over your hair as the other supported your bum.

He could’ve walked to the edge of the earth with you like this, you were content, nuzzling his neck like an affectionate kitten and breathing him in. What a grand blessing your sweet betrothed was…

While you still tried to calm yourself down from your peak, Jacaerys gently placed you on your soft beddings and sat down beside you. He kissed your chin, your temple and then both of your fluttering eyelids, his hands securely stroking your sides as he leaned over you.

“How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, seeking your gaze.

You smiled at him, reaching up to tuck one of his curls behind his ear. “Magnificent.”

Jacaerys blushed and kissed your cheek to hide it. “It wasn’t too much?”

“No.” You slid your hand to his nape, an idea blossoming in your mind. “It was new and…intense, but I loved it. You were good to me, Jace. Although…there is one thing I am still longing for, my prince.”

He furrowed his brows. “And what would that be, beloved?”

You drew him closer until he hovered over you, his own breath quickening as yours fanned over his lips. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone and you leaned in to whisper: “I’ve not kissed you since that night.”

His pupils dilated. “We should change that.”

You grinned into the kiss as you both closed the distance and a deep part of you relaxed, as if you had been holding your breath ever since you took off to Dragonstone that morning. Jacaerys carefully held your face in the palms of his hands, but you felt that he was desperately needing this just as much as you did.

You moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, although you were well and thoroughly sated for the night, only hungering for Jace’s pleasure now. You pulled him on top of you and sank into the pillows behind you, relishing the feeling of his lips moving against yours once more.

It was like the two of you were learning together, becoming better and better at knowing how to do this. He liked it when you playfully bit his bottom lip and you felt yourself growing hot when he licked into your mouth and time did not matter anymore as you made out with each other.

While his own hands were ghosting over your sides, his lashes brushing against your cheeks and tickling you, you steadied yourself on your elbows and pressed your chest against his. In a moment of tender weakness, you smoothed your hands over his chest and flipped the two of you around.

Jace let out a surprised grunt as he landed on your pillows, wondrously looking up at you and drinking in the sight that was you, now snuggly seated in his lap. His hands went to your waist, caressing your hip bones through the fabric of your skirt.

“Maybe I should make you read to me as well, my prince.” You considered sweetly, delighted in the way he breathed a little harder. “See how long you can concentrate while I play with you, hm?”

“Princess…”

You grinned, kissing the rest of his sentence away and sensually tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. After all, he was not the only one educated in the practices of pleasure now. Time to show what your nameless ancestor had taught you through her diary.

He opened his mouth, surely to protest and insist he was fine once more, but you simply gave him a look and he closed it again. The evidence for his arousal was hot and hard under you and when you experimentally ground your hips down, a small whimper left his lips.

“I will not have you end the night unsatisfied again, Jace.” You told him sternly, making yourself comfortable and at home in his lap as you nestled with his belt.

He shook his head, although you could see the desire still burning in his dark eyes, sparked by your sudden initiative to take some little control back. “Seeing you come undone was more than enough for me already, princess.”

You shushed him, your fingertip on his lips. “Let me make you feel good too, Jace. Please.”

Jace brushed your hair back and for a moment, you could see him arguing with himself before he finally gave in to you. “Yes. You…I would like that, if you want.”

A victorious smile made its way on your face. “I do.”

You clumsily fumbled with his belt as you slowly began to kiss his neck, exploring the sensitive skin you had not felt against your lips before but could not get enough of now. Jacaerys obediently made space for you and leaned back, his mouth opening silently and eyes closing as he concentrated on only you and your hands and lips on him.

Quickly, you found out a spot that made him hiss, a sensitive patch just beneath his earlobe, when you unbuckled his pants and slid your hands down his front, over his muscled stomach, down and further down until-

Jace moaned, his fingers digging into your hip bones as you palmed the front of his underwear, feeling him almost throbbing with need against your wandering hand. You leaned back in curiosity to take a look at your beautiful boy, biting his lip and blinking at you with worship written all over his face.

“Help me a little here.” You whispered and held out your hand to him. Jace let out a shuddering breath, realizing your intention. Chapter eight. You clearly both had read it.

You trembled as he let a little bit of his spit drool down into the palm of your hand, holding your eye contact and when your own spit joined and you freed his cock to wrap your hand around his length, he hissed as if he had burned himself.

You could not decide where you wanted to look. He was beautiful, longer than you had imagined and a little curved and you couldn’t stop yourself from thumbing the slit, the precome of his tip easing the way as you slowly began to stroke him.

“Fuck…” Jace bit his lip, suppressing a little whimper, but you were quick, your thumb touching his bottom lip and encouraging him not to stifle his sounds. You had no idea what you’re doing, the reality was different from when it was all just words on a page, but you seemed to do something right given Jacaerys’ reaction to your slow and tender strokes.

“Does it feel good?” You wanted to know breathily, your lips brushing against each other as Jace bucked into your hand, unable to control himself as your hand slowly took him apart.

Jace nodded, chasing your mouth as he cupped the back of your neck and drew you close, devouring you in a hot and passionate kiss that made your hand stutter with distraction. Your other hand was squeezing his shoulder and you moved together, a dance danced best in your bed, with the one you loved and who loved you back.

“Princess…” He whispered, his whole sight angelic and holy to you as you watched him mesmerized, the slick sound of your hand around him drowned out by the string of moans leaving his plump lips as you twisted your wrist. “Gods, ‘so good to me…I’m- I’m not going to last as long as the men in those stories…”

You chuckled, lightheaded with the endless love you felt, only doubling your efforts to make your betrothed feel good at your hands. You leaned your forehead against his and breathed: “I do not care. It’s you I want. And I want to watch you come undone, Jorrāeliarzys, as you watched me.”

He whimpered, eyes fluttering closed as you slowed your hand. It seemed like Jacaerys preferred it this way, a touch so drawn out it almost felt like nothing, but was everything. You peppered kisses along his neck and exposed collarbone, coaxing him towards the same cliff you had tumbled off earlier, feeling his shivers and the strain in him as you took care of his need.

“Come on, Jace…” You lured, pressing one last kiss to his open lips before you added near his ear in a whisper: “Come for your wife, my love.”

Jacaerys’ head fell back as he released a languorous long moan, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed, your hand guiding him through the high as you watched him awestruck by his beauty. You stayed close and leaned against him, playing with his hair as he recovered, a panting mess you had made of him and you felt yourself cuddling close to.

“Are you okay?” You whispered when he did not speak, only drawing you tight against him and combing his fingers through your hair.

“Yes…I’m perfect.” He murmured and nuzzled his nose against your neck. “Just need a moment. You are a gift from the gods, my love.”

You blushed, busying yourself with gently tucking his length back into his pants and sighing happily. “This silly little diary, huh?”

You laughed together, the vision of two young lovers, happy and sated. The adrenaline and giddiness of both your actions was coursing through your veins at full force, now that the haze of pleasure had lifted from your mind.

After a while, he grimaced at the mess on your hand and you laughed quietly as he grabbed his cloak from your nightstand and quickly wiped it off for you.

“It’s not that bad.” You insisted giggly, but he was having none of it.

“I won’t have you having to sully yourself with my mess.”

“Jace, earlier your chin was covered with my-“

“Shh…” He shushed you gently and pulled you close, sinking into the pillows with you tucked against him, your head fitting just perfectly underneath his chin. You had missed the way your body fitted perfectly against his own, not protesting anymore as he hugged you close to his chest.

„I can hardly wait to get married to you…” You mumbled sleepily against his neck, your hand finding its way into his lush curls.

He smiled against your temple, his arms drawing you closer against his chest as he rested his chin on your head. “I will relish every day I’ll have with you by my side as my wife then. As I relish every moment with you now, my love.”

You hummed happily, an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest at his promise. Drawing a tiny heart on his chest, you looked up into his eyes with a plea. “Can you stay? Just a little longer until I’ve fallen asleep?”

Both of you knew he could not stay here for the night. It had been a challenge already to slip into your quarters without raising suspicious questions. But if the prince would spend the night in his betrothed’s chambers? You’d raise a scandal neither of you wanted to face or deal with.

“Of course.” He cooed and you relaxed, melting in his embrace as he carded his fingers through your hair. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” You murmured sleepily, timidly kissing his jaw one last time as exhaustion claimed your body and bones. It was the sweetest déjà vu, your embrace similar to the one you had shared in the inn. But only this time, your hearts beating peacefully in sync with each other.

“Sleep well, princess.” Jacaerys whispered tenderly and watched as you drifted off into sleep.

He did not leave you for another few hours, but when he eventually had to, he swore himself he was going to make you fully his as soon as possible…

Perhaps a conversation with his mother was more than overdue.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃

my taglist: @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

[serpentface]

Wardin provincial tax magistrate on the annual Apomalo Tlinya (phrase close in meaning to 'journey of the late (autumn) sun'), which is a tax collection tour.

His station is marked by his white cloak, royal blue belt, gullfeather khattanocuy, the ability to bear a sword, and a scroll containing documents stamped with the Usoma's seal confirming his identity and authority. He does not travel alone, but is accompanied by a large retinue of scribes, soldiers, advisors, and servants.

All citizens have tax obligations regardless of class, and these are owed primarily in grain and livestock. This is based in this internal economy being predominantly a barter system (with its coin currency having direct value as precious metals and serving as a means of establishing fixed values for various trade goods) and heavily reliant on agricultural goods. It is significantly more difficult to evade or cheat on taxes when what you owe can be established by sight, measured in hard to miss livestock and fields of crops.

As such, taxes are collected via annual tours in which these magistrates (personally appointed by the Usoma and collecting in his name) tour their lands in person. The Apomalo Tlinya serves multiple purposes. It is primarily a method of collecting tax, but also doubles as a way to assess a province's agricultural wealth and well-being as a whole and to take an official census of the population.

This routine act of taxation has been integrated into official religious practice, being looped in with the bounty of the harvest season and thanksgiving to the face Inyamache for having provided the necessary long summer sunlight as the days grow shorter. The actual Apomalo Tlinya begins upon the official celebrations of the New Maize day in each capital city (usually observed on a separate day at the actual end of the harvest for each village), where the festival ends with the tax party leaving the city in procession. The magistrate always ceremonially rides a red bull khait, bearing a solar disk framed by royal dual-viper insignia on its horns. The bull's journey is compared to the ideal seasonal behavior of the sun, generating new life out of rain-fertile earth and then 'dying' after the harvest to allow for the rains to come. Villages who host the Apomalo Tlinya entourage each night experience a fringe benefit via permission to introduce any receptive mares to the bull and possibly get some (very valuable) calves out of it. The bull will be sacrificed at the end of the journey in a final act of thanksgiving, in hopes this offering will help ensure the next year is bountiful.

The attempted veneer of solar thanksgiving and harvest cheer aside, the Apomalo Tlinya visit is enjoyed by just about no one (except for perhaps the people lucky enough to get a pretty khait calf out of it), as it entails the personal loss of some of this aforementioned harvest. Nobility owe SUBSTANTIALLY higher taxes than commoners (given that they are considered to Own the majority of the crops/livestock, which is only Tended by their land's peasants), though the actual tax burden is proportionately steeper on the peasantry (whose tax obligations will come primarily out of their allotted share of the harvest, and/or any livestock they raise on the side). Taxes don't tend to be outright devastating in years with average crop yields, but an already bad year can be made ruinous by this visit. The timing also coincides with seasonal harvest festivities. A few unlucky villages every year may have their New Maize feast day interrupted by the sound of horns and a small legion of white-clad taxmen bearing down to collect.

Each province has only one tax magistrate, making this a lengthy and logistically complicated undertaking. It begins at the end of the harvest season (late summer), and the rounds may not finish until early winter. While it might be easier to divide these duties among a greater number of less-powerful officials, this allows taxation to remain Relatively centralized and performed by trusted appointees (often friends or relatives of the Usoma himself). This has had side effects of these officials becoming especially powerful individuals within each province, with very little checks in place to prevent corruption (beyond hope for sustained loyalty, often reinforced with special privileges and favors). Flagrant abuse of this system is rare, but more unpopular magistrates are commonly suspected to leverage additional off-the-books taxes for their own personal gain.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

ATLA

Waiting on that morning sun by DustOnDaydreams

“To the Generals, Admirals, Officers, Soldiers and Sailors of the Fire Nation, Halt your advance. Pull back to your nearest military stronghold, and await further orders. Do not engage any forces unless absolutely necessary for your own defence. Put out any fires you come across. Sign it only with the full list of the Fire Lord's titles."

“Your Majesty, do you not want to put your name to the missive?” A young pimpled scribe squeaked out to the shocked silence.

“No. I want them to obey the order.”

Or Zuko's transition from child soldier to young monarch in charge of a corrupted nation

Harry Potter

The Cloak by MoonflowerMorningGlory

Harry is not going back to the Dursleys. He has been out of the cupboard for a whole year; he's not going back in. It's tricky - he doesn't really want to have to explain to anyone. But he's magic now! He has an invisibility cloak! And he's had a lot of practice lying still and pretending he doesn't exist. So he can definitely hide out and avoid being put back on the Hogwarts Express, right? Nothing can go wrong with an eleven year old by themselves for 9 weeks in a wild, magical castle, can it?

Nine Worlds

East First by fire_eyes_chica

"East first, then west and home"

Before they can settle into their well-deserved retirement, first Kip and Fitzroy need to return to the Palace of Stars for the Jubilee celebrations. It's harder than it seems.

these unfaithful hands by rattyjol

His feet were moving again, though he did not recall deciding to go anywhere. He crossed the room, past his desk, past the plinth with the asymmetrical vase, past the tapestry map and the golden nightingale in its cage. Past the terrace, where he had been pleased to break his fast with his Radiancy—only this morning? It felt a thousand years away.

He was standing before the ivory door to the inner apartments, which he had passed through only a handful of times before. His hand raised of its own accord, and the door fell open beneath it.

He became aware, with a creeping dread like tendrils up his throat, that something was terribly wrong.

The Goblin Emperor

Falling (Please Catch Me) by mabonwitch

Maia gains a wife, a lover, and a dav.

Or: "He needs affection, and closeness. He is all but starved for it, and we would see him glutted on it instead.” She raised her chin. “However that happens.”

The Imperial Salon by mabonwitch

The Imperial salon is full of marnei. Vazhik gets a firsthand look at why that might be.

Alternate Title: The Emperor's Gay Lover

the first long welcome by wizardcake

Just a few little conversations and scenes on the topic of Maia becoming, and being, a parent. Fluff with a couple shavings of angst on top for flavor and texture.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。WONDER — AL-HAITHAM.

contents. fluff, mentions of al-haitham’s grandmother, hints at sensory sensitivities (neurodivergent al-haitham is canon to me), just thinking ab al-haitham perhaps not liking being grand sage at all but nothing is ever that bad as long as he has you, y’know?

“hey,” you murmur, sitting next to al-haitham. he hums, watching from the corner of his eye as you settle down. “kaveh said you’d be here. mind if i join?”

“no,” he mumbles, “never. as long as you didn’t bring kaveh.”

“i didn’t,” you roll your eyes, smiling.

al-haitham has come here since he was young—by the docks of sumeru city at night, feet dangling over the water. the first few times, grandmother had scolded him when he’d return—by the fifth, she’d resigned to letting him run off. it’s quiet—it’s still and peaceful, but not lifeless. for a while, it used to be a spot for him to just read. after some time, it becomes the one place he can relax when even being home is not enough to calm him.

“rough day?” you ask gently, rubbing over goosebumps on his exposed arm. his cloak keeps the other warm, safe from the night breeze as you sit by the water.

“yeah i guess,” he mumbles, “just overwhelming.”

“these didn’t help?�� you ask sympathetically, tapping on the ear pieces over his head. he shakes his head, sighing as your fingers slip into his hair, stroking through the locks gently.

“couldn’t turn them on for most of the day anyway,” he mumbles, “had too many people coming up to me.”

“grand sage life’s not treating you well, huh?”

“not in the slightest,” he snorts—but it ends in a scoff, and there’s not much humor in his voice.

“well, you’re doing a good job,” you lean and kiss his jaw, hugging his arm, “for what it’s worth.”

“i didn’t want to take it,” he mumbles, “but no one’s qualified for the position right now. i didn’t….i can’t let anything happen again.”

al-haitham is kind—most people miss it. you can tell from the way he finds remorse in the way life is so complicated in sumeru, in the way most people can’t find peace even when they try. so he takes up the offer, even when he doesn’t want to—just so life doesn’t have to be even more complicated, even if just for a bit.

truthfully, you don’t think there’s anyone more capable of being grand sage than al-haitham. in fact, you think it’d be safest if it was him. but you also don’t think he could do it for too long, not when he hates it—the responsibility, the pressure, the authority. grandmother has always warned al-haitham of people who try to take advantage of the brilliant, of the burdens that come with being different.

it’s a gift, she’d tell him, but all gifts come with a cost. so he keeps a simple life, stays to himself and does nothing more than he needs to. it’s better that way, he realizes—but even so, he could never turn away when he’s needed, especially not when the whole nation is ready to crumble.

“you’ll find someone soon,” you hum, hand rubbing slow circles into his chest, “and then you’ll get demoted to scribe again. don’t worry, i’ll still love you the same.”

“because my salary will remain?” he teases lightly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips—the first smile of the day, but not the last.

al-haitham trusts you with that—with making sure he smiles at least once a day, with making sure he falls asleep with a smile at the end of every night.

“well, as much as i love grand sage salary,” you chuckle, “i love you more—at least, i think,” you add the last part with a playful nudge. he laughs softly—the first laugh of the day. even if the laughter comes late, there’s something peaceful about ending the day that way.

maybe it’s not so bad, he thinks, maybe nothing is so bad when he has you to come back to before the moon leaves and takes the stars with her. as long as he ends the night with you, he supposes he doesn’t mind starting a new day all over again, even when it comes with new troubles.

“you only think you love me?” he asks, biting back an amused smile.

you shoot him an easy grin, “well, love is fickle, grand sage,” you tease, “who knows what it is for sure?”

it’s easy, you think quietly—it’s easy to define what it falling in love is like when al-haitham sits next to you, when he drapes his cloak over you, when you feel his heart beat under your palm, when you can see the tension ease from his shoulders the more he sits with you.

it’s always been easy, like it comes and goes as second nature.

“you know,” he says quietly, after a few moments, “when i was young, i asked grandmother what it felt like to be in love.”

you hum, staring at your feet as they dangle over the water, tapping your foot against his. he taps back, making you grin to yourself softly.

“oh really?” you raise a brow, “you thought about other things besides books as a kid?”

“i read all kinds of books,” he defends, “it’s good to be well rounded. i enjoy a romance here and there. besides, everyone wonders at one point,” he adds, “didn’t you?”

you smile at the thought of al-haitham reading something romantic, giggling quietly as your hand grabs his and weaves your fingers together. “i suppose i did wonder, yes. what’d she say?”

“she said i’d figure it out when i do fall in love,” he chuckles, “i wasn’t too happy with that answer.”

“i can imagine,” you say in amusement. “well? have you found your answer yet?”

he thinks for a moment, pondering if he has. he thinks about how he waits to have lunch late every day just to have it with you, how even with an empty stomach, he feels full to the brim when he sits down with you. he thinks about how he walks the long way home just to buy those sweets you like, how even if he’s tired, he’s never felt more alive than when you smile. he thinks about how he’s cold right now, how even when the cool air stings his skin, nothing is as cold as the way your touch is warm.

if love doesn’t feel like you, then al-haitham is inclined to believe he’s not made for love. it must to be you, he thinks, how could it not be?

“i think so,” he nods, squeezing your fingers with his.

“then do share, grand sage al-haitham,” you tap your foot against his again, swinging your legs as you shuffle closer to him. “what does it feel like to be in love?”

he turns, leaning down and stealing a soft, chaste kiss against your lips. “like that,” he grins, “wouldn’t you agree?”

i’m down so horrendously and embarrassingly bad for this guy what the fuck

[kitausu]

Fantasy Novels/Series I Think Are CRIMINALLY Underhyped

Just as the title says, this is simply a list of fantasy novels and series that I think deserve all the hype and yet I basically never see people talking them up. These are not in any kind of order because they're all amazing. If you read any of these please hmu because I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Since the city of Bezim was shaken half into the sea by a magical earthquake, the Inquisitors have policed alchemy with brutal efficiency. Nothing too powerful, too complicated, too much like real magic is allowed–and the careful science that’s left is kept too expensive for any but the rich and indolent to tinker with. Siyon Velo, a glorified errand boy scraping together lesson money from a little inter-planar fetch and carry, doesn’t qualify. But when Siyon accidentally commits a public act of impossible magic, he’s catapulted into the limelight. Except the limelight is a bad place to be when the planes themselves start lurching out of alignment, threatening to send the rest of the city into the sea. Now Siyon, a dockside brat who clawed his way up and proved himself on rooftops with saber in hand, might be Bezim’s only hope. Because if they don’t fix the cascading failures of magic in their plane, the Powers and their armies in the other three will do it for them.

A god will return When the earth and sky converge Under the black sun In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial event proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world. Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a man’s mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio, is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain.

The Omehi people have been fighting an unwinnable fight for almost two hundred years. Their society has been built around war and only war. The lucky ones are born gifted. One in every two thousand women has the power to call down dragons. One in every hundred men is able to magically transform himself into a bigger, stronger, faster killing machine. Everyone else is fodder, destined to fight and die in the endless war. Young, gift-less Tau knows all this, but he has a plan of escape. He's going to get himself injured, get out early, and settle down to marriage, children, and land. Only, he doesn't get the chance. Those closest to him are brutally murdered, and his grief swiftly turns to anger. Fixated on revenge, Tau dedicates himself to an unthinkable path. He'll become the greatest swordsman to ever live, a man willing to die a hundred thousand times for the chance to kill the three who betrayed him.

Twenty-seven years ago, a Duke with a grudge led a ruthless coup against the empire of Semilla, killing thousands. He failed. The Duke was executed, a terrifyingly powerful sorcerer was imprisoned, and an unwilling princess disappeared.  The empire moved on.  Now, when Quill, an apprentice scribe, arrives in the capital city, he believes he's on a simple errand for another pompous noble: fetch ancient artifacts from the magical Imperial Archives. He's always found his apprenticeship to a lawman to be dull work. But these aren't just any artifacts — these are the instruments of revolution, the banners under which the Duke lead his coup.  Just as the artifacts are unearthed, the city is shaken by a brutal murder that seems to have been caused by a weapon not seen since the days of rebellion. With Quill being the main witness to the murder, and no one in power believing his story, he must join the Archivists — a young mage, a seasoned archivist, and a disillusioned detective — to solve the truth of the attack. And what they uncover will be the key to saving the empire – or destroying it again. 

[alternativeminiatures]

New Trench Crusade unit, I don't know how they would make this into a miniatures, but mother of god, just the concept art is incredible!

++HUNTER OF THE LEFT HAND PATH++ The hunters of the Court of the Seven-headed Serpent are followers of the Left-hand Path. They stalk the primordial hinterlands of hell, where they hunt terrifying beasts and perform vile magicks and auguries using the innards of their still-living prey to discern portents and omens. They follow the hidden paths, the secret ley lines that connect the eons old shrines and ruins that still endure in the cancerous, tortured wilds of hell. The hunters haunt the remnants of kingdoms, the sites of ancient battles and places of legend long forgotten by the scribes and cartographers of Hell. In solitary rituals the hunter makes appalling oblations before these forgotten shrines, genuflecting and making obeisance to enigmatic beings of awesome power whose names even the Arch-Devils have forgotten. To arm themselves, the hunters perform strange rites upon their left arm, driving into it nails of infernal iron forged in the foundries of the city of Pandemonium. Their left arm grows into wicked shapes, often taking the form of a powerful hunting bow that fires arrows made from the hunterâ™s own diseased blood. Such darts can be used for many purposes: killing their prey outright, paralyzing them, or causing them to see visions of their own demise. They wear the pale skins of the stargazing oracle beasts that wander the burning plains of hell in great herds. The eyes of the oracles are alive even after their death and watch out for the new master that wears their skin as a cloak.

When called to war on Earth, the Devil Lords can really only hope the hunters answer to their summons, as the hunters do not always listen. They prefer the solitude of the wilds of hell, where they can ruminate upon its vile majesty, and consider the orders from the Princes of Hell as suggestions at best. When one can be persuaded to join the hunt of the Court on Earth, they can traverse the paths of No Man's Land just as easily as the wastes of Hell, for the ley lines of Hell are reflected upon the fallen Creation.

[destiny-aesthetics]

LORE: THE GARDEN-WAY

1. Judgment (1/6)

This being the recollection of Irrha of the House of Slayers, apprentice to the Baron Kiiraskes.

This being the recollection of Irrha of the House of Slayers, apprentice to the Baron Kiiraskes.

[This is so exciting! I will translate as best I can. -Eido, Scribe of the House of Light]

_____________________

It was a beautiful day at the end of the wet season, and the waters had risen high in the canals such that the Palace of Judgment sat on a limned mirror.

My pilot rowed us steadily between the raised walkways. The banners of the great Houses flanked us on either side of the channel. Nearest to the landing, the banners of Kings and Judgment cast long shadows down upon us. It was through them that our unity was possible, and we were not to forget it.

I had spent five days traveling to reach Riis-Ath-Lodrii [1], and just as long before that receiving instruction in the formalities and proper courtesies to be observed in the presence of the Scribes of Judgment. But I was greeted at the landing not by a formal assemblage, but by a lone thin figure dressed in the layered finery of Judgment's officers.

He reached down to help me up out of the watercraft before I had time to bow, sparing only a moment to dust Ether accretion from my cloak.

"Velask, Apprentice Irrha," he said, in a tone that conveyed I had already erred in some way. "Please hurry."

I was led to a side entrance into the Halls of Judgment, where my escort expertly navigated a maze of corridors that led into a small, unremarkable reception room. We stepped into the hushed silence of stifled argument.

There were two figures waiting for us in the room. The first was dressed in the mantle of the city Peacekeepers and the ornamented headdress of the House of Stone [2].

Members of the House of Stone were the foundation upon which the city's defenses were built, and I thought then-as I still do-that the virtues of that House showed in none more nobly than its Kell, Chelchis. She stood twice as tall as I, her limbs as thick as the support beams above us. I could have believed any number of stories about her.

The second figure was clad in a void-black cloak and a pytha-hide [3] crest. The absence of a House symbol marked her as a Baron of the Order of Slayers.

The Slayer Barons had tamed Riis back when it grew wild and disordered in the first century of the Great Machine's Ether Flood. First Riis, and then the moons beyond our sky, which were often hostile to us. Within the hatchling-schools, the minders showed us shadow-stories of cunning hunters, adepts of the Great Machine, working in tandem to bring down the biggest monsters of their age.

I did not think so highly of Baron Kiiraskes when I saw her-leaner than Chelchis, but twice as scarred-until she raised her head and I saw the gleam of her eves beneath her cap. There was a feverish cunning in her scrutiny.

"You brought me a hatchling," she complained.

I felt a hot, familiar resentment—and desperation. It was more important than anything that she not turn me away.

"I have been two solar cycles studying," I pleaded.

"I think Chelchis here has carried clutches for longer than that," said the Baron.

Chelchis' irritated tolling [4] would have withered me in my shell, were it directed at me. All the same, I felt a sick humiliation for having been slighted in front of her.

Nearby, the Judgment official bobbed his head in disapproval.

"You have been assigned what you require," he said. "When was the last time that you needed to be summoned out here, that our Peacekeepers could not handle matters? Apprentice Irrha will suffice."

Kiiraskes gave little indication she heard the official's words. "What is your House?" she asked me.

This moment was inevitable.

"I do not have one." It occurred to me at last that I might have been brought here as an insult.

Kiiraskes regarded me steadily. "We can't all be Kings."

The official rubbed his hands together in agitation. "It will be quick work, Baron. Travel to the farm of Haaksis and dispatch the animal that troubles him. If you require reinforcements, send for the support of a House."

Kiiraskes grunted and turned away. I began to bow and felt her claws latch onto my arm like a star-steel cuff, pulling me from the room.

"Be careful, Slayer Baron." The small chimes on Chelchis' headdress rang softly as she turned her head.

I did not see the gesture Kiiraskes made in response, but I heard Chelchis' amused hiss.

_____________________

[1: "Veins of Riis," or the Channels Through the Body of Riis. One city of many!]

[2: The famed House of Stone!]

[3: A vicious predator native to Riis. Variks says that these were delicious.]

[4: To click a warning at an Eliksni that they can feel in their shell. I bet Humans can feel the vibration in their sternums!]

[I was going to translate everything very literally, but Variks told me I was "ripping the soul from every word." Please forgive me some poetic license! -Eido, Scribe of House Light]

[swagbatical]

Fools turning up to wizard duels: soft cloak, big floppy hat, impractical footwear, a pipe kindled with reaction dampening plant, possibly a scribe or bard to exaggerate their story later

Me the very cool and intelligent wizard turning up to wizard duels: Full suit of custom armour to protect against slashes, a shield to protect from blunt strikes, a helmet forged with a scary face to intimidate, conductive eel lining to nullify electricity attacks, my thick staff enchanted to be slightly more flexible as it now is used as a bow, phoenix feather fletched arrows that fly faster than any spell can be uttered and resonate enough magical energy to easily target for casting my own spells.

[digiindie]

Cloak The Scribe - In Studio Live Performance

[maryhale1]

Welcome, dear witches and spiritual beings ! 🌙✨ Here's your magical cheatsheet:

1. Stir your cauldron clockwise for abundance and counterclockwise for removal; flip for the Southern Hemisphere's magic dance.

2. Shield your crystals from sun and water woes—charge them under the enchanting moonlight for protection.

3. Ride the moon cycles—align your spellwork intentions with its celestial rhythm for amplified magic.

4. Harness the power of your roots—scribe the names of known or unknown ancestors when delving into ancestral work.

5. Embrace the mystique of black—its hue is your protective cloak in the realm of magic. 🖤🔮

May your journey into the mystical arts be enchanted and filled with wonder! 🌟🧙‍♀️

[hey-august]

A Line from Me to You - Chapter 2

Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 1, check out the story tag for more chapters) Word count: 1.9k Warnings: This chapter is SFW, but the story will eventually be NSFW - hopefully in the next chapter. Some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. A/N: Little more plot-building before we get to the spice. Hope yall enjoy!! Tag list: @lostfirefly @rorywritesjunk @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You read and re-read the bonus words written into your book until they flowed through your head like a real conversation. An unknown voice whispered in your ear, adding commentary, a few snide remarks and snarky responses, poignant questions, and narrative asides that you couldn’t get enough of. 

The mystery of your anonymous reading buddy sat with you. It was calm and inviting. You weren’t consumed with a desire to dig inside and pull out the truth, but to let the mystery be. To let it exist like this. Yes, you did want to know whose thoughts and memories you were reading, but it wasn’t a dire need. And more than that, you wanted to keep this secret. A shared secret.

Staring at the next chapter you needed to read, the novelty plummeted as you raised a pen. It felt heavy in your hand, weighed by an awkward feeling. The back of your neck prickled, as if someone was already reading your thoughts. You felt stifled by the odd sense of visibility. Unable to connect your desire to give the story your full attention with wanting to share the book with another reader, you tried to flip those feelings and see if they would fit another way.

It was like a game of leapfrog. You read the annotations added after yours, then jumped into the next chapter you hadn’t read yet and filled in the gaps left in the margins, and, finally, you landed in a new chapter. The puzzle pieces connected as you fell entirely into the story.

Traveling with the cloaked figure, Grey, on his journey, your musings were scribed each step of the way. Phrases and words circled, emotive faces drawn near touching moments, and your own personal tidbits littered the pages. The chapter ended with Grey winning over the sullen rock golem who had been living alone as an outcast. The golem accepted Grey’s invitation to join him on a journey to save the royal family.

A few days later, Buggy was surprised to see the book peeking out of its protective hidey-hole like a mollusk. He noted its disappearance and didn’t expect such a rapid reappearance. Although it wasn’t a long novel, completing the entire journey would have taken a sleepless night or two. A small voice questioned whether the owner was upset at the additional vandalism (even if they started it) and decided to abandon the book entirely. 

Filled with unease, Buggy ignored the book and went about his duties. The poisonous voice stayed quiet as the captain threw himself into work, wondering if he might avoid confronting the question and the book. A lifetime of rejection created a wide boundary of protection that the little voice hid behind, hissing unfounded fears.

The sour feelings were chased away with a mouthful of liquor later that night. While heading back to his quarters, Buggy retrieved the book and walked fast to outpace his own negativity. Although it was only the second time he had the novel, reading was easily incorporated into his evening routine. It felt familiar to him. 

Growing up, Buggy was a voracious reader. Sometimes, he wondered if that’s why he needed glasses now. Maybe his eyes were rebelling against all the words he forced them to absorb - short stories, long epics, newspapers, essays, letters, tiny print, large fonts, hand-written, transcribed. Anything he could get his hands on was devoured in his spare time. Sentences were crammed into the few seconds between duties, chapters read by dim moonlight, and pages became speckled with food as he pored over the books while eating.

Over time, Buggy read less and less. People poked fun at the bookworm. They said he should be careful always having his nose in a book, it might get caught in the pages. Even lighthearted remarks about how much he read began to sting. And as he grew up, Buggy had other things to occupy his time with.

Eventually, guilt took hold in his chest. Roots grew whenever he had time that could be filled by a book, his empty hands missed the feel of pages threading through the fingers, or when he looked at the forlorn stories waiting on his bookshelf. He tried to push through the ache by buying new books that remain untouched. He even bought glasses to try and turn a chore back into a hobby, but nothing relit the spark. It all turned into dirt and manure for his remorse to grow. 

The pirate never expected the pain of turning his back on something that brought comfort would be eased by a silly fantasy novel. Despite being a grown man with hair on his chest and alcohol on his breath, Buggy felt like a kid again as he sank under the covers with a good book. Instead of waiting for a tension headache, Buggy pulled out his glasses, swiped the lenses with a small cloth, and put them on. The first thing he read was a note tucked alongside his bookmark.

“Good notes! Although I disagree that the writer is a ‘self-indulgent asshat who sees the world through rose-colored glasses.’ I read ahead through the next chapter and left space for you. Please do the same and put this back in the ‘secret’ spot. I want to see if you change your mind.”

Buggy chuckled to himself. Of course you wouldn’t agree with him, you picked the book in the first place. Maybe if he pointed out more of the author’s blatant self-insert characters used to tout their poorly thought out ideals, you’d reconsider. He took a sip of alcohol and twirled a pen in his fingers. 

Towards the end of the newest chapter, two things caught Buggy’s attention. First, the fucking corner of the page was folded again. Second, was a comment about the golem and “found family.” You wrote about how nice it is to find a place you belong and people you feel at home with. You felt like the golem character when you joined this pirate crew. The rock golem, named Daisy Lee, had sprouted a flower when Grey extended his hand and companionship. The little heart next to that sentence was a punch to the gut.

Buggy the Clown knew first-hand how it felt to find someplace you belonged. In fact, he’s heard that from his crew countless times. After fights, successful raids, parties brimming with alcohol, any situation full of emotions were bound to be followed with freaks professing appreciation for their captain. But this was different. You didn’t know who was reading these words. You didn’t intend to share them with the captain himself. These weren’t words of performative devotion, honeyed sentiments, or feelings brought forth by adrenaline, but inner-thoughts shared during your own personal time.

It was late and his body was tired, which meant his emotions were delicate. That’s why tears collected in the corners of his eyes before slipping down his heated cheeks. Exhaustion and alcohol. Fingers attempted to fit under his glasses to wipe away the saltwater, but the legs tugged on his ears and the frames dug into his forehead. Buggy dabbed away what he could in the confined space and rubbed the back of his hands on his wet cheeks to dry them. With a face redder than it was moments ago, he swallowed the rest of the sober emotion with the alcohol in his glass.

---

The next time you found the book, there was another note for you. A short sentiment and a gift.

“Stop folding the goddamn pages. I don’t care if this is your book, I won’t give it back. Use the bookmark.”

The bookmark guarding the edge of your reading area wasn’t anything special. It was just a bit of paper that could have come from anywhere, but the edges were carefully torn into a long rectangle. The scrap used to mark the other reader’s progress was ripped haphazardly and shaped like a squashed kidney. Rolling your eyes, you folded the corner of your new gift. You’d use it, but on your terms.

You followed the same pattern as last time, reading the new notes, the next chapter, then a new chapter. And your reading partner followed suit. Bookmarks jumped over each other, like checkers. Stories were swapped, emotions unlocked, betrayals occurred (the first of which was you creasing the bookmark, which was acknowledged with a little angry face), foes defeated, heroes injured, feelings exposed, and so much more. You wrote about leaving your family and village behind, like some of the adventurers. The other person wrote about not really knowing their family. Not in a story, but as a passing comment to what you scribbled. Unsure how to respond, you simply wrote that you were glad their journey brought them here.

Weeks passed as the book exchanged hands. One night found you hunched over in bed, following your reading buddy as you raced through the final chapter. The sea was as restless as your beating heart, each wave and thump growing erratic through the climax.

Worn down and weary, Grey and his companions approached the castle. Moss and vines decorated the worn stone structure. An abnormal breeze carried the sweet stench of decay. The rustle of leathery wings and tell-tale stomping emitted from the courtyard ahead. Grey turned to Daisy Lee and Jack, readying himself to go ahead on his own. To his surprise, Jack clapped a hand on the man’s cloaked shoulder and nodded to their stone friend, who marched forwards, toward the dragon.

You silently cheered with each blow the heroes dealt and gasped with every set-back they sustained. The fight raged on in your white-knuckled grip, with Daisy Lee crumbling into a smaller version of themself, and Jack throwing himself in front of Grey, only to be knocked out.

Grey shouted in anguish and charged forwards. Landing a mighty blow on the dragon, the fierce beast collapsed with a pitiful roar. Smoke poured from it’s mouth and nostrils, filling the courtyard. Through the fog, Grey could just barely see the large shadow shrink. As the smoke cleared, a naked figure lay on the ground - the victim of a curse. It was Prince Shaia. Grey’s brother.

The rest of the story was wrapped up in two pages. There was a whirlwind of activity when Grey rescued the rest of the royal family, revealed his lineage to his companions who readily accepted the information, Grey’s rapid ascension to the throne, and the multitude of changes he immediately put into place across the kingdom to end every single plight, hardship, and minor inconvenience he encountered. The story ended with the sun setting on a utopia, with no mention of issues implementing new rules and systems or discourse about the kingdom changing hands to a previously unknown individual.

You sat silently for a moment, mulling over the ending. It was an enjoyable story full of adventure and whimsy, but the conclusion was rushed. Very rushed. The last paragraph had a bracket drawn on the side and an arrow pointing to a little face sticking it's tongue out and a note:

“I haven't changed my mind. This wouldn’t happen so easily, it’s so unbelievable-”

Frowning, you scribbled a retort before finishing the rest of the note. “It’s a fantasy book. Of course it’s not believable.”

“-I have a book we can read next. I guarantee it’ll be better than this.”

A buzzing filled your head and reverberated down to your chest. You kept reading the message, studying each individual letter constructing the words that warmed your body. The beating of your heart stopped using adrenaline as fuel and channeled the rushing endorphins instead. You hoped that this secret relationship would continue, and to see that feeling reciprocated filled you with so many fluttery feelings that you couldn’t tease them apart.

“Okay, I’m trusting you.”

[icecoldbitchbird]

♡ Starter for my lovely friend @prince-sytry ♡

The ice-cold peacock had eyed the invitation wearily as he raised an ornate silver letter opener, slicing the edge of the envelope with a clean and precise cut. Unfurling the letter and allowing the calculating gaze of his turquoise eyes to scan across the cursive writing. Suddenly, the, frankly absurdly garish, snowy leopard-print paper that had decorated the accompanying gift began to make sense. Prince Sitri. The revelation didn’t lessen Andrealphus’ wariness any — you see, while the scribed words were a sweet message of welcome and a plea to get to know him better, the Goetic Prince had always left Andrealphus a little…well, ‘on edge’, for want of a better term. After all, the refined Prince had his domain within deception and desire. A demon with the ability to evoke truthfulness and force desire was a rather frightening proposition for a man who lied as easily as he breathed and was attempting — very successfully mind you — to pretend he didn’t desire men. Still, to decline would not only be frightfully rude but also highly foolish. What was that old saying? ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.’ Prince Sitri was the kind of man that Andrealphus would benefit from befriending — so, without delay, he kindly accepted the invitation.

Andrealphus arrived at their designated meeting place not a moment too soon or a second too late. Precise, as always. The peacock was outfitted in a fine white cloak that shimmered slightly in the ruby-hue of the mid-day glow almost as though made from woven-together snowflakes. The richest cup was a fine establishment reserved for only the elite. As Andrealphus glided gracefully past the glass doors, opened hastily by a pair of imps, he was hit by the familiar aroma of fine tea and freshly baked goods. An eager servant led him towards a table at the back of the quaint cafe where he could already see the regal figure of the leopard prince seated. Andrealphus painted a smile onto his beak as he approached, “Your Highness,” he let the formal greeting slip pleasantly from his beak as he bowed slightly in accompaniment of his words. Andrealphus moved to elegantly seat himself on the chair opposite that of the intriguing Prince, his posture rigid and pristine as always, his gloved fingertips lacing together as his hands rested upon the fine tablecloth, “It is a pleasure to be graced with your company, Sitri. I was rather surprised, albeit pleasantly so, by your invitation.”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Jesus’ final entry into Jerusalem

1-3 As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage and the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples ahead telling them, “Go into the village in front of you and you will at once find there an ass tethered, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to me. Should anyone say anything to you, you are to say, ‘The Lord needs them’, and he will send them immediately.”

4-5 All this happened to fulfil the prophet’s saying—‘Tell the daughter of Zion, Behold your king is coming to you, lowly, and sitting on a donkey, a colt, the foal of a donkey’.

6-9 So the disciples went off and followed Jesus’ instructions. They brought the ass and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and Jesus took his seat. Then most of the crowd spread their own cloaks on the road, while others cut down branches from the trees and spread them in his path. The crowds who went in front of him and the crowds who followed him all shouted, “God save the Son of David! ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ God save him from on high!”

10-11 And as he entered Jerusalem a shock ran through the whole city. “Who is this?” men cried. “This is Jesus the prophet,” replied the crowd, “the man from Nazareth in Galilee!”

12-13 Then Jesus went into the Temple and drove out all the buyers and sellers there. He overturned the tables of the money-changers and the benches of those who sold doves, crying—“It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer’. But you have turned it into a ‘den of thieves!’”

14-16 And there in the Temple the blind and the lame came to him and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the wonderful things he had done, and that children were shouting in the Temple the words, “God save the Son of David”, they were highly indignant. “Can’t you hear what these children are saying?” they asked Jesus. “Yes,” he replied, “and haven’t you ever read the words, ‘Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants you have perfected praise’?”

17 And he turned on his heel and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

His strange words to the fig-tree

18-20 In the morning he came back early to the city and felt hungry. He saw a fig-tree growing by the side of the road, but when he got to it he discovered there was nothing on it but leaves. “No more fruit shall ever grow on you!” he said to it, and all at once the fig-tree withered away. When the disciples saw this happen they were simply amazed. “How on earth did the fig-tree wither away quite suddenly like that?” they asked.

21-22 “Believe me,” replied Jesus, “if you have faith and have no doubts in your heart, you will not only do this to a fig-tree but even if you should say to this hill, ‘Get up and throw yourself into the sea’, it will happen! Everything you ask for in prayer, if you have faith, you will receive.”

Jesus meets a question with a counter-question

23 Then when he had entered the Temple and was in the act of teaching, the chief priests and Jewish elders came up to him and said, “What authority have you for what you’re doing, and who gave you that authority?”

24-26 “I am also going to ask you one question,” Jesus replied to them, “and if you answer it I will tell you what authority I have for what I do. John’s baptism, now, did it come from Heaven or was it purely human?” At this they began arguing among themselves, “If we say, ‘it came from Heaven’, he will say to us, ‘Then why didn’t you believe in him?’ If on the other hand we should say, ‘It was purely human’—well, frankly, we are afraid of the people—for all of them consider John was a prophet.”

27 So they answered Jesus, “We do not know.” “Then I will not tell you by what authority I do these things!” returned Jesus.

28-32 “But what is your opinion about this? There was a man with two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Go and work in my vineyard today, my son,’ he said, ‘All right, sir’—but he never went near it. Then his father approached the second son with the same request. He said, ‘I won’t.’ But afterwards he changed his mind and went. Which of these two did what their father wanted?” “The second one,” they replied. “Yes, and I tell you that tax-collectors and prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God in front of you!” retorted Jesus. “For John came to you as a saint, and you did not believe him—yet the tax-collectors and the prostitutes did! And, even after seeing that, you would not change your minds and believe him.”

Jesus tells a pointed story

33-40 “Now listen to another story. There was once a man, a land-owner, who planted a vineyard, fenced it round, dug out a hole for the wine-press and built a watch-tower. Then he let it out to farm-workers and went abroad. When the vintage-time approached he sent his servants to the farm-workers to receive his share of the proceeds. But they took the servants. beat up one, killed another, and drove off a third with stones. Then he sent some more servants, a larger party than the first, but they treated them in just the same way. Finally he sent his own son, thinking, ‘They will respect my son.’ Yet when the farm-workers saw the son they said to each other, ‘This fellow is the future owner. Come on, let’s kill him and we shall get everything that he would have had!’ So they took him, threw him out of the vineyard and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard returns, what will he do to those farm-workers?”

41 “He will kill those scoundrels without mercy,” they replied, “and will let the vineyard out to other tenants, who will give him the produce at the right season.”

42 “And have you never read these words of scripture,” said Jesus to them: ‘The stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone. This was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes?’

43-44 “Here, I tell you, lies the reason why the kingdom of God is going to be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its proper fruit.”

45-46 When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables they realised that he was speaking about them. They longed to get their hands on him, but they were afraid of the crowds, who regarded him as a prophet. — Matthew 21 | J.B. Phillips New Testament (PHILLIPS) The New Testament in Modern English by J.B Phillips copyright © 1960, 1972 J. B. Phillips. Cross References: Genesis 4:24; Exodus 30:12; Genesis 49:11; Leviticus 1:14; Ruth 1:19; 2 Samuel 14:7; 2 Kings 9:13; Psalm 8:2; Psalm 118:22; Psalm 118:26; Proverbs 26:5; Song of Solomon 8:11; Isaiah 5:1-2; Isaiah 5:3; Isaiah 8:14; Isaiah 28:13; Isaiah 28:16; Isaiah 56:7; Isaiah 62:11; Jeremiah 7:11; Jeremiah 8:13; Jeremiah 26:8; Jeremiah 37:15; Matthew 4:28; Matthew 7:7; Matthew 8:10-11; Matthew 9:27; Matthew 11:9; Matthew 11:25; Matthew 13:3; Matthew 16:7; Matthew 17:20; Matthew 20:24; Matthew 20:34; Matthew 22:4; Matthew 26:6; Matthew 26:55; Mark 11:1; Mark 11:7-8; Mark 11:12; Mark 11:20; Mark 11:23; Mark 11:27; Mark 12:1-2; Luke 20:5; Luke 20:16; John 7:30; 1 John 3:22

Matthew 21 Commentary - John Gill's Exposition of the Bible

Key Passages in Matthew 21

1. Jesus rides into Jerusalem upon a donkey 12. drives the buyers and sellers out of the temple; 17. curses the fig tree; 23. puts to silence the priests and elders, 28. and rebukes them by the parable of the two sons, 33. and the husbandmen who slew such as were sent to them.

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 2

Warning: violence, swear language and pretty much that's all for now

There’s a misconception that it’s kill or be killed in the Riders Quadrant. Riders, as whole, aren’t out to assassinate other cadets…unless there’s a shortage of dragons that year or a cadet is a liability to their wing. Then things may get…interesting.

– major afendra’s guide to the riders quadrant

(unauthorized edition)

I will not die today. I will survive it. Then I will be free.

The words become my mantra, repeating in my head as Rhiannon gives her name to the rider keeping tally at the opening to the Parapet. The hatred in Xaden’s stare burns the side of my face like a palpable flame, and even the rain pelting my skin with each gust of wind doesn’t ease the heat – or the shiver that jolts down my spine.

Rhiannon grips both sides of the opening in the turret, then looks over her shoulder at me. „I’ll wait for you on the other side,” she shouts over the strom.

I hope so. I mean she has my other boot, thanks to Violet’s fantastic idea. She’s too kind for my own good.

She steps out onto the Parapet and begins walking, and even though I’m sure his hands are full today, I send up a silent prayer to Zihnal, the god of luck. For all of us.

„Name?” the rider at the edge asks as his partner holds a cloak over the scroll in a pointless attempt to keep the paper dry.

„Where were you for the last 5 minutes? I don’t think that you’re so blind to not notice that staring show with Riorson just now.” I say in surprise.

„Melgren, is it?” he asks in an annoyed tone. „Go and try to not fall off like your friend. I don’t think that your father will be too pleased.”

„As if he cares…” I mutter as thunder cracks above me, the sound comforting. I’ve always loved the nights where storms beat against the fortress window, both illuminating and throwing shadows over the walls. It makes me feel small, if I was like somebody else. With a quick glance, I see Dylan’s and Rhiannon’s names already blurring at the end where water has met ink. There will be another roll at the end of the Parapet so the scribes have their beloved statistics for casualties. Morbid.

I place my hands on either side of the turret and drag my fingertips across the stone. It’s still warm from the morning sun but rapidly cooling from the rain, slick but not slippery from the moss growth or anything.

„Today if possible, Melgren.” I hear Xaden shouts behind me.

Handsome, but a prick. Just my luck.

Ahead of me, Rhiannon is making her way across, her hands out for balance. She’s probably a fourth of the way, her figure becoming blurrier the farther she walks into the rain.

In through my nose, out through my mouth. I force my breathing to calm, my heart rate to slow down. I can do it. I trained for this. I am Aelin Melgren and I will survive it.

I take the lone step up onto the Parapet. I find my balance and I move, leaving the safety of the turret. There’s no going back now.

I take measured strides that I practiced for so long. I can do it. One step a time. Don’t look down, just keep your eyes ahead of you. You will get through it. For you. For Violet. I hear my thoughts encouraging me.

The stones beneath my feet are uneven in places, held together by mortar in the joints that make it easy to trip, and I concentrate on the path ahead of me to keep my eyes off my boots. My muscles are tight as I lock my center of gravity, keeping my posture upright.

„And you think you’ll be able to ride?” I heard behind me. „Some Sorrengail, with that kind of balance. I pity whatever wing you end up in.”

I stop and glance back at Violet. It seems the wind knocked her back at the turret’s wall.

„Come on Vi. You need to tell me the facts that you know about this place. Don’t waste your time with lowlifes like that one.” I say to distract her.

„Facts? I’m not some book you know.” She replies.

„Some? No. You’re a fucking library.” I laugh at her.

Step after step, we make our way across the Parapet.

„Navarre, our home, is the larger kingdom, with six unique provinces…” I hear Vi behind me.

„Then what about Poromiel?” I ask when she stops. I need to distract her. She need to focus on something and not the fact that we can fall off the Parapet any minute.

We pass the painted line that marks halfway. We’re over the highest point now. Yes, we’re good so far. Rhiannon ahead of us, at what I think is the three-quarters point. Good.

That’s when I hear a shout behind me.

„Vi?” I ask as I try to turn around despite the strong wind.

„I’m fine. I’m fine.” she squeaks. „Go on, I’m okay.”

„Fuck Vi, don’t do this to me. I promised you that we will be getting off the Parapet the safe way, not by jumping.” I try to humor her. „Now where were we? Poromiel?”

„The kingdom of Poromiel mainly consists of arable plains and marshlands and is known for exceptional textiles, endless fields of grain, and unique crystalline gems capable of amplifying minor magics.” Continues Vi

I spare only a quick glance at the dark clouds above me before inching forward, one foot carefully placed in front of the other. My next step knocks a couple of pieces of mortar loose, and I pause for a moment. I swallow and test my weight before moving forward again.

„In contrast, Navarre’s mountanious regions offer an abundance in ore, hardy timber from our eastern provinces, and limitless deer and elk.”

Good. She’s focused on history. We can do this. We’re almost there. I can see the Riders Quadrant from here. The enermous stone footings of the citadel rise up the mountain to the base of the structure, where this path ends. Scraping the rain from my face with the leather on my shoulder, I glance behind us to see where that jerk is.

He’s stalled at just after the quarter mark, his stocky form standing still…like he’s waiting for something. His hands are at his sides. The wind seems to have no effect on his balance. I swear he’s grinning across the distance, but it could just be the rain in my eyes.

We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving. I try to walk a bit faster, in hope that Vi follows.

I look back over my shoulder to see where that jerk is. Jack if I remember correctly. Or something similar. Who cares.

He’s turned his back on us and is facing the next candidate, who wobbles dangerously as he approaches. Jack grabs the gangly boy by the straps of his overpacked rucksack, and I watch, as Jack throws the scrawny candidate from the Parapet like a sack of grain.

A scream reaches my ears for an instant before fading as he falls out of sight.

Holy shit.

„You’re next Sorrengail!” Jack bellows, and I jerk my gaze to Violet.

Then his strides eating up the distance between us with horrifying speed.

MOVE. NOW.

„Vi, we need to move faster. You can do it, just don’t look down.” I say with a serious look.

I can’t do anything right now. The Parapet is too narrow to switch places, and even if we can manage somehow I don’t want to test my figthing skills on these slippery stones.

Another gust of wind slams into me and I lost my balance for a moment. When I regain it I hear a thud and glance behind my back. Violet is on her knees, her left leg is dangles off the edge of this bridge from hell.

Jack is far too close now.

„Violet Sorrengail you can do it. Stand up and come with me. We’re almost there.” I say while I reach for her arm to help her up.

„I will not die today.”

„You won’t. Now come, we need to move.”

„I’m coming for you Sorreangail!” Jack shouts.

Vi throws her arm out to the side and nods. Good, we can go.

I focus on the end of the path, the courtyard of the citadel, where Rhiannon steps to safety. I keep my body tight, my center locked.

„Will you scream the whole way down?” Jack mocks, still shouting, but his voice is closer. He’s gaining on us.

„Don’t listen to him!” I say when I can see the end of the Parapet now, the riders who wait at the entrance to the citadel.

„It’s really for the best that I take you out now, don’t you think? It’s so much more merciful than letting the dragons have at you. They’ll start to eat you leg by rickety leg while you’re still alive. Come on,” he cajoles. ”It will be my pleasure to help you out. You’re a dead weight to Melgren anyway.”

„Fuck off Jack. If the dragons going to eat somebody, it definitely will be you.” I yell back at him.

There are only a dozen feet left to the outside of the citadel’s enermous walls. My left foot slips, and I wobble, but I only lose a heartbeat before I’m moving forward again.

Fuck this boot. It’s really a death trap.

The fortress looms behind those thick battlements, carved into the mountain in an L-shaped formation of tall buildings, built to withstand fire, for obvious reasons. The walls that surround the citadel’s courtyard are ten feet thick and eight feet tall, with one opening – and We’re just. About. There.

I hear Vi bites back a sob as stone rises up on both sides of us.

„You think you’ll be safe in there?” Jack’s voice is harsh…and close.

Secure on both sides by the walls, I run the last ten feet, adrenaline pushes my body to its max. I hurtle forward, jumping the twelve inches off the elevated Parapet down to the courtyard while turning back and grabbing Violet’s arm to push her in front of me, where two riders wait.

Jack roars in frustration. Spinning, I rip a dagger from its sheath at my ribs just as Jack skids to a halt above me on the Parapet, his breath choppy and his face ruddy.

Murder is etched in his narrowed, glacial blue eyes as he glares down at me…and where the tip of my dagger now lies againt his bare throat.

„I think, we’ll be safe for right now asshole.” I hiss at him.

„Will you?” Jack vibrates with rage, his thick blond brows slashing down over arctic blue eyes, every line of his monstrous frame leaning my way. But he doesen’t take another step.

„It is unlawful for a rider to cause another harm. While in a quadrant formation or in the supervisory. Presence of a superior-ranking cadet,” Violet recites from the Codex. „As it will diminish the efficacy of the wing. And given the crowd behind us, I think it’s clear to argue that it’s a fromation. Article Three, Section-„

„I don’t give a shit!” He moves, but I hold my ground and my dagger slices in his neck, a thin red line starts to from under the blade.

„I suggest you reconsider. Or no and I will cut your throat. I don’t care.”

„Name?” the rider next to me drawls, as if we’re the least interesting thing she’s seen today. I glance in her direction for a millisecond. She pushes the chin-length, fire-red strands of her hair behind her ear with one hand and holds the roll with the other, watching the scene play out. The three silver four-point stars embroidered on the shoulder of her cloak tell me she’s a third-year.

„Aelin Melgren” I answer, but a hundred percent of my focus is on Jack again. The rain drips off the lowered ridge of his brow. „And before you ask, yes, I’m that Melgren.”

„Not surprised, with that maneuver,” the woman says, holding a pen.

„And you? You’re pretty small for a rider, but it looks like you made it.” She said to Violet.

„I’m Violet Sorrengail.”

„A Melgren and now a Sorrengail. It will be interesting.”

„Your name?” She asks again. Pretty sure she’s asking Jack, but I’m too busy studying my opponent to glance her way.

„Jack. Barlowe.” There’s no sinister little smile on his lips or playful taunts about how he’ll enjoy killing. There’s nothing but pure malice in his features, promising retribution.

„Well, Jack,” the male rider on my right says slowly, scratching the trim lines of his dark goatee. He’s not wearing a cloak, and the rain soaks into the bevy of patches stitched into a  worn leather jacket. „Cadet Melgren has you by your throat here. And Cadet Sorrengail is right. Regs state that there’s nothing but respect among riders at formation. You want to kill her, you’ll have to do it in the sparring ring or on your own time. That is, if she decides to let you off the Parapet. Because technically, you’re not on the grounds yet, so you are not a cadet. She is.”

„And if I decide to snap her neck the second I step down?” Jack growls, and the look in his eyes says he’ll do it.

„Then you get to meet the dragons early,” the redhead answers, her tone bland. „We don’t wait for trials around here. We just execute.”

„What’s it going to be, Melgren?” the male rider asks.

Shit. What is it goint to be? I can kill him and spare us a lot of trouble, but I don’t think it would be such a good idea after all. There are a lot of people and we have been cadets for what? A whole minute? I don’t want to bring more attention to Violet. She’s barely able to protect herself and I won’t be by her side in every minute.

„Are you going to follow the rules?” Violet asks Jack behind me.

Sweet, naive Vi. Of course he’s going to, until he can find a way to kill her. Damn I need to teach her how to properly protect herself.

„Guess I don’t have a choice.” A corner of his mouth tilts into a sneer, and his posture relaxes as he raises his hands, palms out.

I lower my dagger but keep it palmed and ready as I move sideways, toward the redhead keeping roll.

Jack steps down into the courtyard, his shoulder knocking mine as he walks by, pausing to lean close to us. „You’re dead, Sorrengail, and I’m going to be the one to kill you. And watch your back Melgren, I will be there.”

„Of course honey, I’m waiting for you in a dark corner. I really like to see you bleed out.” I reply waving at him.