#HOW DARE HE COVET MY QUEEN

[eraenaa]

Gold Rush

Aemond Targaryen x Lannister Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Everybody wants you, and I don’t like a gold rush.

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pinning, Jealousy ¿Simp Aemond?, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, P in V sex, Face Sitting, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 7, 912 (I may have overindulged) 

Beauty worth their weight in gold, and it’s the greatest blessing from the gods that you have both. The only child of Lord Lannister. Spoiled and sheltered, you had never known hardships or troubles. Pampered in the halls of Casterly Rock or anywhere you go. You leave a trail of mystification, enchantment, and adoration. Suitors line up and beg to pay you tribute. Songs and sonnets are made just to entertain and encapsulate the beauty and purity you have for centuries to come. Commoners and Lords offer their lands, riches, and allegiance just to have your hand, and now, a certain prince dared to join. 

When the words slipped out of your uncle’s lips that you should join your father in his visit to the capital, the Red Keep was abuzz with curiosity. The Golden Beauty of the realm shall grace their presence. They shall finally see and admire the being that has been coveted and praised for years. Prince Aegon was excited, to say in the least. He has been curious and titillated by your said charms ever since poets decided to write nothing about the allure and trance you placed upon men by just one look of your emerald eyes. His brother found it as a hoax. He frowned at how they exalt your name and praise you as if you were The Maiden Herself when, in reality, they only read or hear of you. He would scoff to himself every time his brother would reread the songs made in your name. He would roll his eye every time he heard gossip and talk about you from the maids and knights. He was certain that this popularity and recognition had only made you egotistical and vain— a judgment made and solidified in him despite not having known or met you. 

When the day of your arrival came, his older brother was the first to greet you, whilst Prince Aemond stood by the window and watched from afar. He frowned upon Aegon’s actions greatly, paying recognition to a girl whilst ignoring his wife, but alas, his brother could not be reasoned to nor be persuaded to do his duty. Aegon was always easily swayed and distracted by a pretty face, and with beauty such as yours, the queen’s first son had turned simple. Aemond rolled his eye as he stood by the balcony, watching his brother tour you through the gardens. Aegon displayed a beaming smile and an odd blush on his face as if he were the maiden and not yourself. You simply kept a small, pleasing grin on your lips as the eldest prince kept on speaking and offering you flattery and compliments, trying to ignore the feeling of a gaze following you ever since you entered the palace walls. 

You set your gaze above, catching the lone lilac eye of a second silver prince. You held his gaze, which showed contempt and agitation you did not know the reason for. When Prince Aegon had noticed your attention had shifted, he cast his eyes above only to see his brother with his brooding demeanor, almost scowling at the two of you. “That is only my bitter brother, Aemond. Pay him no mind, my lady,” Prince Aegon stated and offered his arm for you to take. Your eyes shifted between the two princes, quickly curtsying towards the one who stood above and the took hold of his brother’s arm before he hurriedly escorted you out of sight of the younger prince. 

You were soon introduced to the princess, the wife of the elder prince. The princess’ presence you then favored instead of her husband, who had a gown quite… touchy and clingy. You stood next to the princess, who introduced you to her adorable children, babes tugging at the hem of your gown and pleading with you with their big violet eyes to carry them. Your heart grew soft and took the little Prince Maelor into your arms, smiling widely as the babe clung to your neck and buried his adorable face into your hair. “My son has taken quite a liking to you… he is most fastidious to other’s presence, my lady,” The princess smiled. “He is simply adorable, Your Highness,” You say and brush the silver hair of the babe. “He is… he quite reminds me of my younger brother when we were children,” The princess mused, her voice afar with nostalgia. 

“Have you been introduced?” The princess then asked, “To whom?” You inquired, distracted by the babe who shifted in your arms. “To—Ah, Aemond! We were just talking about you,” the princess then exclaimed, the silver prince standing by the door. You turned your gaze to the prince you had not been introduced to yet formally. “Lady Lannister, my brother, Aemond,” The princess introduced, and you curtsied since more at the one-eyed prince while having his nephew in his arms. You hindered your frown as he said no word, only simply giving a nod and the action of his lips thinning. 

“I was just telling Lady Lannister how much Maelor resembles you when we were younger,” the princess smiled. You turned to the prince, who tried to give his sister a small smile but looked more like a grimace. “The young prince is quite charming,” You smiled and turned to the prince, who stood before you, stiff and brooding. Aemond clenched his jaw as his eye caught yours once more; you are not at all chaste nor demure in the presence of royalty as any young lady should ought to be. You were perfectly comfortable taking a member of the royal family into your arms as if you were equal in rank. Aemond seemed to stand uncorrected with his early judgment of you. 

“She is quite handsome… I always thought the songs they made were an exaggeration, but it seems to not do her justice,” Aemond heard his mother whisper to his sister, quite entranced by your beauty, and it would seem as would everyone present at the dinner table. Princess Helaena generously invited you to their intimate family dinner. His hand clenched around his chalice of wine as his brother shamelessly leaned closer to you and whispered something in your ear to cause a sweet, amused smile to play on your lips. “Are you not bothered by this?” Aemond could not help but as his sister. “About about what, brother?” Helaena asked, clueless and concerned by the agitated state of her younger brother. 

“Lady Lannister, we are most glad that you are finally here to accompany your father,” the queen said, not allowing Aemond to answer his sister’s query. “Thank you, your Majesty. You have all been so welcoming to my presence.” You smiled and could not help but let your gaze travel to the one-eyed prince, whose contempt had been nothing but plain and quite obvious. “Of course, the golden beauty of the realm is most welcome here indeed,” Aegon then chimed in. “But may I ask why it is only now that you join your father to the capitol?” The queen inquired; your gaze flew around the table, eyes expecting your answer, except for the lilac gaze of the younger prince, who stared steely and harshly at his plate. “Oh… it is because my father and uncle wishes for me to be acquainted with the court… for they are planning for me to marry soon, your Grace,” You said truthfully. That is when you feel a lone eye finally place itself upon your frame. 

The queen hummed and looked not at all shocked by your admittance; her children, however, shared different expressions from what you could read. The princess simply nodded with a ghost of a smile on her lips. The prince beside you seemed surprised and, dare you say, disappointed by your purpose of coming. And the prince across from you seemed… you could not decipher his reaction through his hard gaze. 

When morning came, you were pleased to receive an invitation from the princess to join her in the gardens to break your fast. You followed a squire, and you were led to a table surrounded by flowers and greenery, three children of the crown waiting for you. A pleasing princess and her brothers, one stoic, the other drunken. “Good morning, Your Highnesses,” You greeted and bowed, surprised as the young prince stood and matched your curtsy, moving to assist you to assist you to a seat across from him. You try not to over-analyze his actions; just hours before, he seemed disinterested in you— animosity was heavy around him. However, now, there seemed to be an air of civility surrounding him. 

“What are your engagements today, my lady?” Princess Helaena asked as she sipped on her tea, you stirred yours and replied. “My father was planning to introduce me to some of the members of the court,” You say and turn to acquire the last piece of candied lemon. “Some suitors?” The princess asked, her brothers not at all joining in the conversation, merely sitting around the two of you as if they were dolls. “I am not quite certain, princess,” You say and let your gaze travel to Prince Aemond, who stared at the candied lemon on your plate. 

“Do you have a favorite among them?” Prince Aegon then inquired; you frowned at his question. “I beg your pardon?” You asked for clarification. “Does any of your suitors hold great favor with you?” He said and took a chalice into his hand so early in the morning. “I have still yet to meet them, my prince… but I was told that Lord Arryn’s son was quite handsome, and many ladies of the court seem to favor him,” You answered but was turned to the princess, the topic seemingly more appropriate for the two of you. “Ah, yes, handsome Lord Henry,” Princess Helaena said in recognition, “It is true that he is comely. However, I heard he is one to wander,” The princess said delicately. Confusion painted your face once more, and it was the second prince who clarified, 

“Lord Henry is quietly known for his depravity,” Prince Aemond said, making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Like our brother Aegon,” he added, smirking as that earned a giggle from his sister. “I think it would best if you stay far from the son of Lord Arryn,” The princess said, and you nodded along. 

You spent the day being introduced to Lords and Ladies of the Court, but more specifically, their sons. You felt the constant drone of a gaze following you as you conversed with the prospects of your hand. Their faces seemingly merged, and their names eluded you, so you could only offer them your pleasing smile and mindless small talk and keep your hand on their arm. 

“Do you not have to train, brother?” Helaena then appeared beside Aemond, who was hidden behind a pillar, as he observed you being acquainted with the eligible sons of the court. Helaena held a cheeky smile as she caught his brother’s actions. You had only arrived yesterday, and the princess was already certain that you had caught the attention of her enigmatic brother. It was plain to her the attraction and curiosity Aemond harbored for the golden beauty of the realm, even long before you arrived. Yes, the One-Eyed prince would scoff when his eye would catch anyone reading a pamphlet containing the written songs in your name. Still, Helaena noted that he was the first one to acquire the said pamphlets, religiously reading them until Aegon caught wind of a lioness whose beauty was hidden in Casterly Rock. As a result, the one-eyed prince hindered himself from admitting that he and his brother were attracted to the same girl. Yes, the One-Eyed prince would roll his eye in annoyance whenever he heard gossip about you in the halls, yet he still stayed and listened to all of them. 

“Should you not be joining the line of her suitors?” Helaena teased, amused by the way her brother’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Helaena waited for his reply, but none came. It was a rare occurrence for Aemond to not find words. “I shall see you at supper, sister,” Aemond gritted and walked off, leaving Princess Helaena amused and with new ammunition to lovingly tease her brother. 

Supper came, and to Aemond’s displeasure or satisfaction, you were there. Seated next to his sister, whispering and giggling as if you were the oldest friends when, in reality, you had only waltzed into their life just the other day. He supposed that he should find joy that his sister had finally befriended someone, but must it be you? 

Must it be you who had to join them in supper and be in his constant presence? Seducing and tempting him even though you merely just sat there— making him question himself and his honor as he watched wine stain your lush lips or the way you would let out a low moan at the taste of the pie placed on your plate. You were too much of a temptation, a trial sent by the gods to test his patience and honor, in which he was seemingly failing, for all he wanted to do earlier was cut all the suitors who dared touch you and now taste the wine on your lips. 

When supper had come to an end, Aemond was quick to stand and had a great wish to retire to his rooms, but his mother had different plans. “Aemond, will you escort Lady Lannister to her quarters? A young lady cannot be left alone in the halls at such an hour,” You turned your expecting gaze to the prince, watching as his jaw ticked and his tense form turned rigged. It was alarmingly clear that he had no wish to extend such generosity to you, but still, he obliged his mother and offered his leather-clad arm for you to take. 

You walked out of the dining hall in exchange for the corridor. Tense, suffocating air surrounds you and the second-born prince, whose reluctance was nothing short of obvious. You tried to make polite conversation with him as he walked with you through the never-ending, dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, but his replies were only a nod and a grunt. When you reached the door of your chambers, you let go of the prince’s arm, pride wounded as you were completely ignored and could feel unaccounted animosity towards you. “Good night, Your Highness,” You drawled, growing annoyed by the moment but still had the respectability to lowly curtsy before the prince. 

Aemond gulped as you curtsied before him once again, giving him a heavenly sight of your bosom that made him stiffen in his spot. He knew that your actions were a sign of respect; he should take it as a compliment that you had bowed before him lowly, but every time you did so, all you did was tempt him more. You were shameless as you fashioned a dress with such a neckline, giving every man a sight for their desires to only fester. Now he knew why every man who had encountered you had been left entranced and obsessed; you were a vixen, a true lioness. 

Days passed as you stayed in the Red Keep, and you could feel the constant and growing animosity and disapproval Prince Aemond held for you. You had no idea the reason for it; you could not recall what you had done for him to grow so callous and mean towards you. You would hear his scoffs of derision whenever someone paid you a compliment, and he was within earshot to hear it. You would catch him as he would roll his unique lilac eye whenever you spoke or offered your opinion or even when you laughed. It was such a shame that such a handsome and attractive prince was so vile and rude. You were growing impatient and irritated with him. On any other occasion, your course of action will be to avoid and not put yourself in situations that would require you to be near the prince, but somehow, the gods were cruel and had twisted fate to have you in each other’s presence constantly. 

When night finally came and offered respite from the bitter prince, you sighed in your chambers and tried to find a reason for his contempt towards you. It was an odd feeling you did not wish to fester; all your life, everyone you met was quick to grow fond of you. You were quick to leave them enchanted by your beauty and charms. You named it as your greatest gift— your greatest power was how well beloved you are by anyone… how you could wrap them around your pretty little fingers, which is why the prince’s dislike for you had left you entirely unnerved and bothered. You were growing scared that perhaps your charms were slipping and soon, all too, would feel the same animosity the prince harbors for you. You could not find rest that night, fear trickling into your system. The prince had unraveled your deepest fears with just his quiet distaste.  

You step out of your guest chambers and threaded the halls of the Red Keep, walking the darkened halls and trying to find distraction in the library. You walked straight and paid no mind if any soul was in the library because you were certain that no one else would be present at this hour. You were mistaken. 

Prince Aemond frowned to himself, thinking his mind had placed a trick upon him. The image of you haunted him even in the dead of night when he thought he could finally escape your beautiful torment. But as he heard books being retrieved from shelves and the way your scent wafted to where he sat, he grew aware that the image he saw was no apparition. You were there, with him, alone in the quiet room. 

Aemond took quiet steps towards you, the moonlight bathing you in its light. Your frame aglow, making you look more ethereal as the silver light lights your golden mane. Aemond clenched his jaw as the same prominent desire for you only bloomed tenfold. “You should not be here,” He gritted, standing at arm’s length. It was concerning that he was standing at such a close proximity and you have yet to notice. It only solidified his theory that you were so enveloped in only yourself that you care not about the world around you. Aemond bit his tongue as an amused smirk threatened to escape to his lips. You jumped in your spot and turned to him wide-eyed in fear. He had never seen a lion frightened. 

“My prince… I— I apologize, I did not know that the libraries are restricted at these hours,” You said and closed the book in your hand. “It is not,” comes the reply of the prince, making a frown of confusion paint your face. You turned your entire frame towards him, peering up at the prince who looked at you with nothing but resentment in his cold lilac eye. “Then why shouldn’t I be here?” You asked with a tilt of your head.“You should be in your chambers.” Aemond gritted and removed his gaze from you because looking at you illuminated by the moonlight made him feel too much. He stepped back, but you matched his actions and stepped forward. He took a step back again, and you only mimicked his steps. It was an odd scene, a dragon being toyed by a lioness. 

Watching Prince Aemond’s nostrils flare and his jaw tick again made you smirk, as he was clearly annoyed by your presence. “You do not like me,” you suddenly announced, making his shielded gaze cast itself upon your eyes again. “You do not know me, yet you do not like me… why is that?” You asked and stepped forward once again, leaving just a sliver of space between you and the prince. Aemond gulped thickly as you were just a breath away from him. Your scent evading his senses, your enchanting eyes assessing his every move. 

“Oh, I know you,” He spat but felt his knees weaken when you raised your brow, painting a fake confused look on your pretty face. Siren eyes mockingly turned into doe ones, and plump lips parted in fictitious shock. “You do?” You asked. “You know me? I apologize, my prince, but I do not recall our first encounter. Please, tell me how you know me,” you rolled your eyes and finally let your annoyance slip, for you had enough of the prince’s judgment. The prince and you stared each other down, him not finding words as you had your expressive, scathing gaze upon him. He did not know how to handle himself— he was always silver-tongued and quick-witted, never one to be speechless, but apparently, that changed when it came to you. When pitted against you, he felt like the quiet, dragon-less little boy he once was. His raging fire weakened and turned to mere flickers. 

You scoffed and shook your head, not wavering or stepping away from the prince, ready to retire back to your room, but he took hold of your arm and pulled you even closer to him. “I know you. You’re a spoiled… vain… flirtatious little brat,” He spat, and watching your eyes widen and fill with offense brought back Aemond’s confidence, and he once again gained his silver tongue and towering, imposing demeanor. He watched as your cheeks flushed and wondered how it would feel to touch them. Would it be as hot as the fire that burned in his veins? 

“My father and uncle used to always speak highly about you… about how cavalier, genteel, and dutiful the second prince of the realm was— it is disheartening to be faced with a mean, calloused boy who had shown me nothing but animosity since I’ve arrived— animosity which I do not understand the reason of!” You retaliated and pried his hold off you, Aemond trying not to grow amused as you said the words with a stomp of your foot as if you were throwing a tantrum. “You want to know the reason?” Aemond hummed as you glared at him. “Yes.” You said and crossed your arms across your chest. Aemond caught the action and reminded himself not to let his eye linger upon the deep live between your bosom. He was certain you did that on purpose. You were calculated; you did each of your actions, knowing fully well that it would elicit a reaction from those around you that would only selfishly serve you and your vanity. 

He could see it in how you interacted with the lords and other men, flashing your coy smile, batting your eyelashes, and seducing them with just a mere movement from your graceful frame. He could see it in how you toyed with Aegon, letting him whisper things to your ear, leaning in closer when the older prince spoke, and laughing at whatever meaningless word came out of the prince’s wine-smelling mouth. And you did it with him as well, the way your eye would hold his gaze, seeking him out during dinner and distracting him whilst in training. You were a shameless flirt. Someone who craved attention, and everyone seemed to be grateful to give you what you sought— except Aemond.

“Because you are a flirt— a tease. You toy with men because you were gifted with beauty,” Aemond seethed and that only brought a deep furrow on your brows. “I am no such thing!” You defended yourself, and the prince only scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You are. It is plain. You have them wrapped around your fingers— you know how easily an attractive face persuades them,” the prince said but frowned as he saw your lips twitch upward. As if his words and insults were a jest. “Tell me, my prince… do you agree with their sentiments? Do you find me attractive as well?” You asked and tilted your head, smirking to yourself as the dragon’s fire stuttered and backed away once more. It was a battle, each opponent taking their hits and reloading in time just to fight with the other again. 

The prince gulped and felt heat rise to the tips of his ear; luckily, the reddening flesh was covered by the curtain of his silver locks. “I— I don’t,” He said and stood his ground, forcing his voice to be steady and scathing though he told a plain lie. “I do not find you attractive,” He said more firmly and slightly more convincing this time. “You don’t?” You asked and watched as he curtly nodded and thinned his lips. “That is good,” you mused and backed away from the little space you had given him. The prince’s brow twitched as you said your sentiment, as he heard relief from your voice. “Why is that?” He curiously asked his turn to step closer to you. 

“Because your mother had proposed to my father that a union between us would be well suited; well suited to whom I do not know, but that is what she had proposed. Telling my father that she had needed to bring the subject to you to see if you agreed.” It was a nice scene to see the prince’s whole body turn to stone in shock. His thin lips parted, and his eyes held cluelessness and disbelief. You took the moment of silence from the prince to speak once more. “Well, it is most fortunate that you clearly don’t agree— it would save me from having to be in the presence of such a… prejudiced and bitter prince.” You relished the way you caught his hand clenched around nothing and the way you were certain he was ready to turn violent by your words. However, you still continued to speak.  

“Though the title of princess is quite tempting, and I am certain I’d look exquisite with a tiara— I’d rather run off with the stable boy and live in squalor than live in a place with you.” You finished with a satisfied smirk on your lips at the murderous look on the prince’s face. When his lips parted and tried to speak, he flailed on what to say. That only added to your triumph. “Good night, my prince, Aemond,” You said in a sickly, sweet tone and lowly curtsied again before walking your way back to your chambers. 

It should greatly shame the prince. His actions would haunt him for moons to come, but the moment you exited the library, and he was once again left alone, he succumbed to his desires and undid the laces of his trousers. Pulling his painfully hardened length and pleasured himself with the thought of you. Your scent still hung in the air, and your voice still rang in his ear, but what pushed him over the edge was the image of you curtsying, almost going to your knees before him. His mind was made then. Whatever act he had portrayed the past few days will quickly come to an end for he shall certainly agree with his mother that a union between him and you would be most suited. 

You sat in disbelief and utter confusion as your father announced to you that a union between you and the prince shall take place. “Why? Wh— did the queen ask his thoughts on this? Or was it just your and Her Majesty’s decision?” You questioned as you recalled the night in the library with the prince. It had only been two days since the heated and angered scene transpired, and you had done your best to avoid him and his raging lilac gaze. “The prince came to me and asked for your hand. And given the conversation I had with the queen, I assumed that his proposal has her blessing.” Your lips agape, and you try to work out your objections, but your father cupped your cheeks. “You, my darling, will be a princess just like you had always dreamed of.” He said softly, recalling how you ran the halls of Casterly Rock with a tiara atop of your head when you were younger— always begging your septa to tell you stories of princesses and their princes finding 'happily ever after.’

“I shall leave you to get ready— it will be announced to the court later today, and the wedding shall take place in a week’s time.” He announced, making you stand in utter surprise. “What?! Father— Why so soon?” You asked in disbelief. “The queen wishes his son to be married before the king meets his demise. He wishes for the king to witness Aemond joyously with his bride,” You were stunned and were certain that joy would not appear from a union between you and Aemond, making the Queen’s wishes moot. “Now, make haste as you shall be presented with your betrothed!” Your father smiled and kissed the top of your head, and hurriedly left the guest chambers. 

Aemond observed as your proud gaze was planted on the floor as they announced the upcoming union between the two of you. He was certain that news had left you in quite a state of confusion. The prince passed his eye at the sea of people, mostly on the men who had lined up for years and courted you, only to witness that the beauty they coveted was then promised to the dragon prince. Aemond’s look turned to his brother, whose jealous gaze was upon him, and Aemond couldn’t help but smirk. He then returned his gaze to you again, finally having looked up and locked your eyes upon him. Nothing but confusion in your orbs, and perhaps anger that Aemond simply found endearing. 

“I do not understand.” You gritted as you and Aemond were given a chance of privacy to get to know more about each other before the wedding. You two were in the room of the small council, the queen, your father, and the lord commander standing by the other side of the door lost in discussion as you and your betrothed were about to thread towards an argument. “You and I shall marry each other; what is so hard to understand?” The prince retorted. “I suppose the saying is true… the more comely the woman is, the more she is simple,” Aemond quickly added, grinning at how quickly you were to grow red in rage. Your cheeks match the scarlet of your gown. 

“Why, in the name of the seven, would you agree to this?! You and I are not suited for each other!” you whispered harshly, not wanting your parents to hear you quarrel. "And what makes you think so?” The prince hummed, stepping closer to you, tightening in his trousers once more as your plump lips were agape. “I haven’t had a civil conversation with you. All our interactions have been arguments— do you truly think that a marriage between us would work?” You asked incredulously, mind spinning at how abrupt, incomprehensible, and inexplicable the fates were. “You wish for a civil conversation? Let us have one then,” he simply replied and took a seat in one of the chairs housed in the long table separating the two of you.

You took in deep breaths and studied as he sat calmly, his hands placed atop the wooden table. You eventually took the seat across from him. “Why did you agree to this union?” You asked, your mind still replaying the scene in which he stated plainly that he dislikes you greatly. “Because I am in need of a wife,” he answered. You licked your lips and shook your head. “Why me, then? When you are perfectly aware of our shared… distaste for one another,” You said and watched as the prince shrugged. “Because…” the prince trailed, licking his lips as he was certain you would not believe what he would utter because he himself would find it hard to believe as well at how he had treated you since you had come. “I want you.” He finally said after a long moment of steely silence. The prince clenched his jaw as he heard you scoff, and a sardonic, melodious laugh soon followed. “You want me?” You asked, “What? You want to punish me? Make me miserable with a union with a man who hates me?” You added. “I do not hate you,” the prince sighed and rolled his eye as you stubbornly shook your head. 

“Ever since I have arrived all you had done was glare at me, pick quarrels and squabbles. You had offended me right to my face, and now you say want me?” You asked incredulously. “They say Targaryens are mad… but I had hoped your mother’s blood had leveled your and your sibling's heads.” You mumbled and did not expect to see an amused look on the prince’s face. A beat of silence surrounded the two of you, staring each other down. A lioness with a confused scowl on her face, and a dragon who had amusement and content on his. “I still do not understand,” You said, and the Prince sighed once more.

“It was all an act,” he sighed. My animosity towards you—all of it was an act. A facade to protect me because when I saw how you interacted with the other prospects for your hand… how obliging you were with them, I could not stomach the fact that you would not be mine,” he admitted, letting himself be vulnerable for the first time in years. I… I do not like sharing,” he then added. 

“I was five and ten when I read the first poem written for you,” he started. “I have not seen you… I have not a clue of who you were except that you were Ser Tyland’s kin, and you were of great beauty as they have written, and you already managed to make me grow curious,” You stayed silent as the prince continued on to explain. “I waited every week for new poems to be published… the songs in your name still did not receive much recognition— you were still unheard of by the others. I was certain I was the only one who bought those pamphlets; you were a secret for me alone.” You nodded along and rested your back against the chair, observing the prince intently as he spoke. “Aegon found the pamphlets and began to grow curious too… along with the entire kingdom, and I just did not enjoy the thought that I have to share the desire to know you— to be with you with other men,” He finished, and you bit your tongue as you did not know how to take the prince’s explanation. Was it flattering or puzzling? You had no clue. All you knew was your heart was beating loudly in your chest and your stomach was filled with butterflies. 

“My uncle often shared stories of you and your siblings…” You spoke, your turn to share an anecdote. “As a child, I have always been enthralled by the idea of royalty. So he would oblige me and tell me stories of the Dragon Princes.” Aemond nodded along as your eyes were cast upon the wooden table. “He would always go into great detail about your brother, Aegon… seeing he will be king, but I was always more curious about you,” You admitted. “But he said you always kept to yourself, so he could not truly tell me stories about you, so I would make him repeat the anecdotes already told time and time again. On how kind you were with your sister and how dutiful you were to your mother… how you were brave and determined— ceaselessly training with the sword even if you had lost your eye. And if you were not training, you were adding to your scholarly knowledge.” You turned your gaze to the Prince’s exceptionally beautiful lilac eye, “I have been fond of you long before I have met you, my prince. Ask my father and uncle… or anyone in Casterly Rock, for that matter,” You said truthfully, watching as Aemond’s lips twitch into a smile

“I would admit; I came here with the hopes of getting to know you… that perhaps a match between us would fall organically and not one that our father and mother made.” You said and fisted the fabric of your scarlet gown as your heart beat loudly at your admittance. The prince licked his lips, “Should it matter how this union was made?” He asked, “Either way, in the end, we’ll still get what we both want,” Aemond stated, his whole being satisfied as he was not the only one who pinned over a person he was still yet to meet. “I suppose not,” you smiled as your impending nuptials with a prince you had dreamed of since you were a child was to come. The door then swung open, revealing your father along with the Queen.“I hope the both of you had gotten the chance to grow more acquainted with each other,” The queen smiled, already excited with the prospect of your marriage and for you to be her daughter. You were most fitting to their family; not only will her son gain an incredibly charming and comely wife, but her daughter too will gain a friend. 

“We have, your grace,” You said with a small smile. She gave a pleased nod, and her smile widened, “That is good. Come with me, child. Plans have to be made, and you still have yet to be fitted for your gown!” She said and held out her hand for you to take. You stood and turned briefly to your betrothed; you once again curtsied before him. Now, a smile intended for him was placed on your pink lips, and Aemond’s longing gaze followed you as you walked out of the room with his mother. 

The day of your wedding was quick to come, and you felt entirely giddy and excited about marrying Prince Aemond. Your father escorted you down the aisle, the eyes of the kingdom following you as you gracefully walked to your soon-husband, who had a rare smile on his lips. When your father gave your hand for the prince to take, you felt gooseflesh scatter throughout your entire body. Aemond looked at you adoringly throughout the entirety of the ceremony, not at all paying attention to the Maester who blessed your union. 

Aemond was entirely impatient for him to announce you as his wife and for him to finally be able to kiss your lips. To mark you as his in front of the gods and the entire kingdom. And when that moment finally came, the desire that burned brightly inside the both of you only grew. Aemond was not one to show affection publicly, but he could not hinder himself as he cupped your cheeks to deepen your kiss that was witnessed by all present in the hall. Their screams and cheers faded and turned mute as both of your lips intertwined. 

Suppressed desires could not be contained any longer as you and Aemond had finally had a taste of each other. There was supposed to be a banquet to celebrate your union; the Queen had organized the feast to perfection, and your father spared no expense for the celebration. But it was unfortunately missed by you and your husband as Aemond quickly led you to your shared bed chambers, both of you unable to wait for nightfall to be in each other’s arms. 

“Aemond,” You mewled as he pushed you up against the stone pillar in your chambers. His lips kissed your neck, leaving his mark with every kiss, and his hands quickly untied the laces of your gown. You hear him growl as you boldly move your hand to cup his hardened length against his trousers, hesitant as you move your hand. “We should be in the feast,” You said but made no move to halt your pleasurable actions. Aemond shook his head, “Do you want to attend the feast, or do you want to be pleasured, wife?” He asked and watched with dark eyes as the sleeves of your dress draped down your arm and revealed more of your milky skin. “I want you, husband.” You breathed, and Aemond let out a pleasurable sound as your hold on his length tightened. 

“Kneel,” Aemond gritted, and your eyes widened at his command. “Kneel and show your devotion to your lord husband,” Aemond demanded and clenched his jaw as you did as he asked, slowly going to your knees, your eyes still locked upon him. You licked your lips as you were eye-leveled with his bulging length, “Take it out,” Aemond commanded and tightly closed his eye as you did the action, your skin finally touching his. You bit your lip at his massiveness, at how well-endowed he was and how beautiful he fully was. You swallowed thickly as you recalled the books you had read in the dead of night, detailing how man and woman should be. 

Aemond let out a strained sound as you placed a ghost of a kiss upon the tip of his cock, your name spewing from his lips as you peppered light kisses along his length. “Stop being a tease, little wife,” he gritted and felt his stomach tighten at the smirk on your lips and the view of you kneeling before him. Your dress had dropped lowly, and he could see most of your bosom that had been tempting him for days on end. 

You let out a breath and to him to your mouth. You half expected yourself to be repulsed, but with each moment you had his length between your lips, bobbing your head, sucking harshly, hearing the moans your husband spewed, and looking at his pleasured etched face, you felt your cunt drip with want and anticipation. Aemond groaned louder as you fondled his other parts, thanking the gods for blessing him with you as his wife. Thanking them for their favor to let him be bound to the Golden Beauty of the realm. The prince breathed in harshly as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, the need for release in him loudly pronouncing itself, making him abruptly pull out. He could not be so selfish and let himself succumb to pleasure whilst you were still filled with need. 

Aemond pulled you to stand, fervently meeting your lips once more, and guided you to bed. Your dress finally fell, and Aemond greedily took one of your tit into the hot cavern of his mouth. He bit the bud and elicited a sweet whine from your lips, and he quickly soothed it with his tongue and felt you clung to him tighter. Taking his other hand and guided it to you other needing tit to pleasure it as well. Aemond smirked upon your bosom at how in need you were of him. Aemond moved his lips to your neglected tit, and his hand trailed down south, your eyes rolling back and your hands fisting the back of his head as you finally felt his cold hands upon your needing heat. 

“So desperate for me, little wife,” Aemond hummed in satisfaction. Your moans echoed throughout the chambers, along with the sound of your wetness as Aemond slipped his finger in you, his thumb circling the pearl of your cunt, earning more of your sweet moans. Aemond moved to kiss your lips again, feeling how tightly your cunt clenched around his finger. You parted your lips as you felt climax nearing, your wide, lusted eyes locked in with your husbands, but before you could even succumb to ultimate pleasure, Aemond stole away his finger. “Aemond,” You whined, but your husband only smirked and pecked your lips. Making you watch as he brought his coated fingers to his lips and sucked the essence of you clean. 

Your mind was dazed and frustrated as he denied you pleasure. Your eyes followed him as he removed his tunic and lay nakedly on the silk sheets of your feathered bed. “Come here,” He ordered, and you hesitated for a moment. You took your bottom lip between your lips and did as told, moving to straddle him as he lay. His hands found home on your hips, urging you to move forward, and you furrowed your brows in confusion as your core threaded farther away from his length. “Aemond, I—“ Words were lost as the prince’s lips were met with your cunt. His hands forcing you down upon his face. Your head tilted back in pleasure as you rolled your hips upon his face, his prominent nose perfectly aligned with your nubbin and his tongue darting in and out of your tightness. 

“Aemond,” You cried as your thighs were quick to shiver; release was finding you once more. “Aemond… Aemond…” You uttered his name like a prayer. With one flick of his tongue, you came undone, your moans ringing loudly that you were certain that it was heard in the halls but could not find care. Aemond had a slight smirk as he moved you closer to his length. Your eyes were still glazed from your climax, and your mind was so disoriented that you did not even realize that Aemond had positioned his length at your entrance. The sharp pain of your maidenhead being taken was the only indication you had that you had now sunk upon his cock. 

Aemond relished at the sight of you atop of him, your cunt taking and squeezing his cock. Your breast was heaving, and your eyes were welling with tears. Aemond reached out and took your bosom into his calloused hands, kneading the taut, soft flesh— earning a pleasured moan through your pain. Aemond gave you the liberty to move whenever you felt comfortable doing so. He was an impatient man, but he savored every small movement you made as you clenched along his cock. 

Your furrowed brows dissipated, and your mouth parted as the tip of cock perfectly hit the spot inside of you that made you see stars. Aemond’s breathing labored as you rolled your hips, seeking further friction. He moved his cold hands to your hips and guided you to bounce upon his cock. “Aemond!” You cried, and Aemond could only marvel at your pleasured face and bouncing tits; you squeezed him so tightly that slight pain mixed with his delight. “Are you going to come, my wife? Will you come at your husband’s cock?” Aemond hummed and sat up, placing his head between your ample breasts, greedily inhaling your scent. “Yes… gods, yes!” You cried as he harshly thrust inside you. Both of you meet your peak, Aemond spilling his seed deep inside your cunt and you clawing at his bare back and leaving your own marks. 

“My wife,” Aemond hummed in satisfaction and nuzzled his nose against yours, a smile on your lips as your foreheads pressed as the cheers from the feast that you two disregarded were lowly heard in your chambers, “My prince,” You smiled and kissed his lips, your heart full. Your being wholly satisfied as you were bound to the prince that your young heart had wanted long before. 

[gojuo]

this show went from aemond killing luke (who took out his eye) to purposely killing his brother, because of some drunken joke.

Aemond embarrassed him at the council by also speaking Valyrian fluently and Egg could barely complete a sentence, they were even!

kill a sibling and and not feeling the slightest bit of guilt He takes aegon's dagger and walks away casually as if it wasn't his full brother dying there) about it is something only the worst of the worst would do such as gregor clegane, euron greyjoy and ramsay bolton. it's sick..nothing like stannis and maekar who killed their brothers but had no happiness about it

even daemon targ didn't dare try to kill viserys wtf

we are doomed. we expected complexity between aegond and we received and we received an attempt at fratricide and regicide 😭

It's just not even remotely an interesting or compelling or sympathetic character arc or motivation to me, sorry. I didn't care for Aemond in the book, I loved him in the show out of spite, now I'm back to not caring about him bc this is just not the type of character whose development, whether it be a progression or a regression, I enjoy following. My bridges are burned 😬

Side note maybe but I've noticed how it's Daemon that's getting the sympathetic portrayal concerning his family over his narrative foil Aemond, which, in my opinion, is another aspect of the Greens Condal is taking away and giving to the Blacks that I've been harping on about in posts and tags everywhere lately.

The greatest of his rivals was Daemon Targaryen, the king’s ambitious, impetuous, moody younger brother.

Fire and Blood, p. 354.

As King Viserys had no living son, Daemon regarded himself as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and coveted the title Prince of Dragonstone, which His Grace refused to grant him…but by the end of year 105 AC, he was known to his friends as the Prince of the City and to the smallfolk as Lord Flea Bottom. Though the king did not wish Daemon to succeed him, he remained fond of his younger brother, and was quick to forgive his many offenses.

Fire and Blood, p. 355

Thus did matters stand in King’s Landing late in the year 105 AC, when Queen Aemma was brought to bed in Maegor’s Holdfast and died whilst giving birth to the son that Viserys Targaryen had desired for so long. The boy (named Baelon, after the king’s father) survived her only by a day, leaving king and court bereft... save perhaps for Prince Daemon, who was observed in a brothel on the Street of Silk, making drunken japes with his highborn cronies about the “heir for a day.” When word of this got back to the king (legend says that it was the whore sitting in Daemon’s lap who informed on him, but evidence suggests it was actually one of his drinking companions, a captain in the gold cloaks eager for advancement), Viserys became livid. His Grace had finally had a surfeit of his ungrateful brother and his ambitions.

Fire and Blood, p. 359.

Prince Daemon was not amongst them, however. Furious at the king's decree [naming Rhaenyra heir], the prince quit King's Landing, resigning from the City Watch. He went first to Dragonstone, taking his paramour Mysaria with him upon the back of his dragon Caraxes, the lean red beast the smallfolk called the Blood Wyrm. There he remained for half a year, during which time he got Mysaria with child. When he learned that his concubine was pregnant, Prince Daemon presented her with a dragon's egg, but in this he again went too far and woke his brother's wroth. King Viserys commanded him to return the egg, send his whore away, and return to his lawful wife, or else be attained as a traitor. The prince obeyed, though with ill grace, dispatching Mysaria (eggless) back to Lys, whilst he himself flew to Runestone in the Vale and the unwelcome company of his "bronze bitch." But Mysaria lost her child during a storm on the narrow sea. When word reached Prince Daemon he spoke no syllable of grief, but his heart hardened against the king, his brother. Thereafter he spoke of King Viserys only with disdain, and began to brood day and night on the succession.

Fire and Blood, p. 360.

After Mysaria lost her unborn child, Daemon hated Viserys. He had no love for his brother anymore and began his grooming of an 8-year-old Rhaenyra to get closer to what his biggest wish in life was: the Iron Throne.

Notice how this is not him in the show but Aemond now? The bullying + brothel plotline to make him hate Aegon is not there in the book. In contrast, Aegon, Aemond and Daeron together actually hated the Strong bastards and none of them, especially not Aegon, were friends.

The sins of the fathers are oft visited on the sons, wise men have said; and so it is for the sins of mothers as well. The enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra was passed on to their sons, and the queen’s three boys, the Princes Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, grew to be bitter rivals of their Velaryon nephews, resentful of them for having stolen what they regarded as their birthright: the Iron Throne itself. Though all six boys attended the same feasts, balls, and revels, and sometimes trained together in the yard under the same master-at-arms and studied under the same maesters, this enforced closeness only served to feed their mutual mislike, rather than binding them together as brothers.

Fire and Blood, p. 377-378.

It was Viserys actually who hurt Aemond over being dragonless, NOT Aegon.

Only the middle son, Prince Aemond, remained dragonless, but His Grace had hopes of rectifying that, and had put forward the notion that perhaps the court might sojourn at Dragonstone after the funeral. A wealth of dragon’s eggs could be found beneath the Dragonmont, and several young hatchlings as well. Prince Aemond could have his choice, “if the lad is bold enough.” Even at ten, Aemond Targaryen did not lack for boldness. The king’s gibe stung, and he resolved not to wait for Dragonstone.

Fire and Blood, p. 380.

Aemond in the book was also never characterized as lusting after the throne like Daemon was. He's always been presented as a staunch supporter of Aegon's birthright.

One-eyed Prince Aemond, nineteen, was found in the armory, donning plate and mail for his morning practice in the castle yard. “Is Aegon king?” he asked Ser Willis Fell, “or must we kneel and kiss the old whore’s cunny?”

Fire and Blood, p. 397.

The greatest danger was deemed to be Storm’s End, for House Baratheon had always been staunch in support of the claims of Princess Rhaenys and her children. Though old Lord Boremund had died, his son Borros was even more belligerent than his father, and the lesser storm lords would surely follow wherever he led. “Then we must see that he leads them to our king,” Queen Alicent declared. Whereupon she sent for her second son. Thus it was not a raven who took flight for Storm’s End that day, but Vhagar, oldest and largest of the dragons of Westeros. On her back rode Prince Aemond Targaryen, with a sapphire in the place of his missing eye. “Your purpose is to win the hand of one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters,” his grandsire Ser Otto told him, before he flew. “Any of the four will do. Woo her and wed her, and Lord Borros will deliver the stormlands for your brother. Fail—” “I will not fail,” Prince Aemond blustered. “Aegon will have Storm’s End, and I will have this girl.”

Fire and Blood, p. 400.

“You must rule the realm now, until your brother is strong enough to take the crown again,” the King’s Hand told Prince Aemond. Nor did Ser Criston need to say it twice, writes Eustace. And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror. “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed. Yet Aemond did not assume the style of king, but named himself only Protector of the Realm and Prince Regent.

Fire and Blood, p. 437.

I know people like using this passage as evidence that Aemond wanted the crown, but this is the only sentence that insinuates such a thought in the entirety of F&B, and it then also gets shots down immediately in the next sentence after. People can yap about how Aemond knows he can’t do or say anything as long as Maelor is alive, but when this one sentence—which gets rebuked pronto anyway—is the only evidence you have for that headcanon vs. Daemon who in the text explicitly and repeatedly is said to want to throne and hate his brother, then it’s just not a supported notion in the text or subtext at all.

That “‘Tis I the younger brother who studies philosophy, history and swords etc. etc.” is also nowhere in the book. This second son complex is just a show invention that used to be Daemon’s in the book now given to Aemond in the show, because of course Condal wants Daemon to be far more sympathetic in the eyes of the audience through exploring his love and guilt towards his brother and Rhaenyra with the Harrenhal hallucinations, rather than Aemond, whose actions snowballed into Blood and Cheese and who has a far better character arc lying in wait if that love and guilt he feels towards his brother post-B&C had actually been his.

Show!Aemond is such a wasted character, really. They had so much potential in him becoming an unhinged, murderous psycho falling into impatiency (reason for leaving KL and Cole unprotected) and mania (reason for carpetbombing the Riverlands) because of the immeasurable guilt he feels for what his actions have caused his family (Kinslaying!! The greatest sin in Westeros!!! Blood and Cheese!! ASOIAF’s most atrocious event that kinda happened because of him a little bit!!!)... And yes, it’s not a justification but it’s a reason for why he would do such monstrous things in the book because that’s just how a young, 19-year-old, emotionally volatile, new-to-the-horrors-of-war Targaryen prince with access to nukes would act like once he’s wholly consumed by the guilt of Blood and Cheese and war and the failure at Rook’s Rest and his brother’s disability therefore he’d become unable to face his family anymore culminating in what’s basically his suicide above the God’s Eye... His obsession with facing Daemon could have been because he feels like he has to redeem himself towards his brother for kinda being the cause of Jaehaerys’ death... but Ryan Condal does not want the viewer’s focus to stay on Blood and Cheese or else that would mean negative feelings towards Daemon and Rhaenyra are validated, and also the Greens can’t love each other and care about each other or how else can Condal portray them as fuckups unworthy of positivity so that the viewer does not get attached to them or root for them? Blood and Cheese and Jaehaerys have practically been forgotten by the Greens and the show by now. Nobody cares anymore! How many times has anyone even said his name? Uggghhhhh.

That love and loyalty the Greens feel for each other was, of course, all propaganda 🙄 Daemon in the book got his somewhat redemption through saving Nettles at the cost of betraying Rhaenyra, so fuck Condal for switching him and Aemond around and fuck Condal for cutting Nettles in order to whitewash Rhaenyra some more. And then stealing the love and loyalty the Greens had to the family and giving it to the Blacks. Ugh.

[sssailorvanya]

i’m miss world [riddle rosehearts]

part one | not edited, please ignore any mistakes! | wc: roughly 1k

You’re not entirely sure how you became the King of Hearts. You had always fancied yourself to be more of an Alice—bold and bright and daring, charming in a roguish manner, curious to a fault. Not to mention your status as an inter-dimensional traveler. Like Alice, you had fallen down the rabbit hole and landed in a fascinating new world, so different to the one you called your own.

And now you had been thrusted into the role of the meek King, a pitiful figure that many knew nothing about. Searching through Twisted Wonderland’s expansive historical records yielded nothing. The King’s name was never recorded and his mythical gravestone, lost to time itself, supposedly had the carving: ‘The husband of the legendary Queen of Hearts.’

That was it. Nobody knew his name, the duration of his life, his birthplace; the historians of Twisted Wonderland could never uncover any information regarding the King of Hearts, despite their greatest efforts. He was rarely ever seen in public during his lifetime, and he was firmly attached to the Queen’s side the few times he was presented to the world. There was a total of three pictures which had been taken of him, all very similar: a blank-faced King leaning into his eternally furious Queen, her hand forcefully latched over his.

You were surprised to find that the King’s appearance did not match the puny cartoon depiction of your world. If anything, he greatly resembled you.

Riddle had painstakingly explained to you how the three existing pictures of the King were heavily coveted. One picture belonged to the ruling family of the Briar Valley, another belonged to the royals of Sunset Savanna, and the final picture belonged to the Rosehearts.

“The Queen is very important to my family,” He spoke stiffly, holding your gaze intently. You found it harder and harder to look him in the eye as the days passed and the weeks blurred together. “We are not her direct descendants, but we are connected to her through her sister’s children.” And didn’t that just send you down another furious spiral of tireless research and ink-stained hands? This fearsome, bloody Queen supposedly had a sister. A sister who had children of her own. A sister who was the ancestor of the red-haired boy who was holding you captive.

You remember your shaky hands preparing tea for him in the exact order you knew he preferred. You remember him tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. You remember the bright red roses – authentic, not painted – decorating the vase which had been placed on the table. You remember the exact moment when you asked, “Did the Queen not have any children of her own?”

And you remember the hideous look in his eyes as he answered your innocuous question.

“She did not. The King did not give her any.” He raised a delicate pinky finger as he sipped his tea, a clear sign that the conversation was over.

You swiftly moved on and you did your best to forget his bizarre mannerisms and ominous answers.

Because if your suspicions were confirmed to be valid (and if you were right—oh, if you were right, you would eat your own beating heart), then you knew that you had more in common with the King of Hearts beyond physical appearance.

“There’s not much about him, your majesty,” Cater Diamond laughs pointedly as he avoids your gaze, his eyes trained on his phone. “Even his Magicam hashtag has, like, nothing. That’s totes sad!” His laugh becomes slightly shrill as you say nothing, your eyes boring into him. Out of all the card soldiers, it is Cater who sympathises with your plight the most. Perhaps it reminds him of the days when he, too, was a captive, forced to dress in glitter and frills for his sisters’ amusement. He never looks at you anymore.

“I have never known much about him,” Trey Clover admits gently as he smiles down at you weakly. “He’s a proper mystery. Very unique too. The other members of the Great Seven didn’t have spouses, but the Queen did.” He is kneading dough as he talks with you, preparing treats for the upcoming Unbirthday party. “Why the sudden interest, your majesty?”

You don’t like being referred to as ‘your majesty’. It is a recent development, urged by Riddle who resented other people for having the audacity to say your name.

You smile and shake your head, leaving him to bake his treats. You’ll get your answer from someone more rebellious. Someone far less willing to be complicit to your unhappiness for the sake of his Housewarden.

You find Ace Trappola in the endless, beautiful gardens of Heartslabyul. He’s dressed in pink from head-to-toe and he’s looking very disgruntled about it. The flamingos are milling about him as he sorts through their food. He is alone, which is strange, but it works in your favour.

“On Wednesdays, we wear pink!” You say cheerily, unable to help yourself. Ace stiffens and then relaxes, turning to face you with raised shoulders. “Hey,” He says nonchalantly.

Ace doesn’t call you ‘your majesty’. He doesn’t use your name either, but this is something you’re willing to forgive. Being on the end of Riddle’s genuine wrath is terrifying and some battles are not worth picking, let alone fighting.

“It’s a reference to a film from my world,” You say easily, falling into step beside him and ignoring his obvious flinch. “I think you’d enjoy watching it.” Ace frowns at you, as if to express doubt, and then shakes his head. “Whatever. You need something?” He asks carefully, but you don’t miss how his bright eyes dart around the area. He’s looking—no, he’s checking to see if there is any trace of Riddle nearby.

After all, wherever you are, Riddle is only a few steps behind.

“Do you remember when we met?” Your tone is hushed now. “It was you who explained the Queen of Hearts to me.” By the mutinous expression which is slowly spreading across Ace’s face, he clearly remembers your chaotic first meeting.

“Help me, Ace Trappola. You’re my only hope.” You say quietly. Your words are heavy and your tone is grave. You feel guilty for burdening him, but you do not feel bad enough to retract your words. What you said is true. Caged in the rose-scented, ivory-leafed walls of Heartslabyul, your only ally is the hotheaded ginger.

Ace is silent. His solemn expression greatly contrasts with his hot pink clothes. He sighs and then he frowns, his lips forming a rebellious pout.

“C’mon then, Prefect. Lay it on me.”

You smile, and it is genuine. You haven’t been called ‘Prefect’ in a long while.

“I need you to—“

Once you finish explaining exactly what you needed from Ace Trappola, you step back and stare at him. He meets your gaze evenly and then shrugs his shoulders.

“Alright, Prefect. I’ll see what I can do for ya.”

Before your lips can form another real smile, he holds up his palm. His face is troubled and his eyes are unreadable.

“Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t be easy,” He warns, and then he picks up the flamingo closest to him. The flamingo blends into his pink jacket seamlessly. It’s a cute animal, you notice idly. The bright eyes, soft feathers, and fascinating beak support your thoughts; the flamingoes are really, really cute.

You’ve always been more interested in the hedgehogs, though.

“Bye.” Ace says warily, looking behind you as if a hideous monster had suddenly materialised into thin air. He takes the flamingo with him and you watch the pink pair go on their merry way, wishing – not for the first time – that you could be as free as the animals of your rose-adorned prison.

A steady hand lands on your shoulder. You don’t need to turn around to see who it is.

You already know.

You always do.

“Hello, Riddle,” You say mildly, still staring in the direction Ace went in, “It’s a nice day for a stroll, isn’t it?”

He hums in lieu of an actual answer. You turn around, lace your fingers with his, and let him lead you back to your shared dorm room.

Tomorrow will be a new day. It’ll be different.

You’re counting on it.

[acourtofthought]

***This post is my opinion. I do not claim to be an expert on the character of Az nor do I have any idea if my interpretation is in line with what SJM herself thinks. It is ONLY my interpretation of the text and characters and if you adore Az you might want to avoid the post because it's going to read as in favor of Lucien and Elucien***

"I think Lucien will never be good enough for her"

Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all (side note, this is probably the information he got from Lucien)

the shadowsinger was heading out to gather information

Lucien’s attention slid behind me, to the various letters on different styles and makes of paper. That golden eye narrowed. As Tamlin’s emissary, he no doubt recognized them. “Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache.” Mor frowned. “Any suggestions?” Lucien tied back his hair with a strap of brown leather. “Do you have a map?”

“Can I offer my unsolicited advice?”

Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. “That’s the information you need to gather.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I’d been more than willing to hand over.

Everything else—his father’s closest allies, the most conniving courtiers and lords … He’d handed it over. Granted, it was dated by a few centuries, but in his time as emissary, from the information he’d gathered, not much had changed.

“Azriel is the only polite one.”

Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

I wondered if the shadowsinger was usually the first to throw himself into danger.

"I'll go." Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.” My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”.

He’d bring Lucien to the edge of the human continent—to wherever Lucien had decided would be the best landing spot. No farther, Azriel had insisted. His reports indicated it was too watched, too dangerous. Even for one of our own. Even for the most powerful High Lord in history.

“Why did you come if it torments you so much?” “Because Rhys wants me here. It’d hurt him if I didn’t come.” “Well, I think holidays are stupid.” “I don’t.” “They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things.”

There are traditions and expectations you must uphold. We must uphold.

“It’s Solstice tradition here, isn’t it?”

“Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate

I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

“shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.”

If one Siphon was what most Illyrians needed to handle their killing power … Cassian and Azriel had seven each. Seven.

Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir.

each ruled by a High Lord, all of them deadly in their own way. They are not merely powerful—they are Power.”

“They didn’t dare. Feyre, he’s a High Lord. He’s a different breed.”

“Easy,” Lucien said. Cassian snarled. “Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

So...... according to Az, WHY exactly is Lucien not good enough? On the surface, the positive things about both males look remarkably similar so where is that statement coming from? Not to mention Lucien is canonically not as aggressive or argumentative as Az, he enjoys the outdoors while Az is not noted to, Lucien is social whereas Az is not. All things that if Az truly knew Elain, he'd realize she and Lucien were well matched.

I think Az is lashing out about Lucien because the truth is, I believe he does somewhat grasp who Elain is and he knows that he'll never be right for her. That's not to say he's not good and worthy of his own love or that Elain is some pinnacle of perfection that he could never hope to have. I just mean that I think deep down he knows Elain is not the one for him, that they're too different. But he's so consumed over hatred of himself and jealous that he didn't get a bond while simultaneously thinking he doesn't deserve one and rather than really confronting those emotions in a healthy way, he's using Lucien as his mental punching bag.

To me, Az has spent a lot of his life mimicking the type of person Lucien is so part of him doesn't understand how he wasn't granted a bond (while Lucien was) while the other part of him knows he's sort of an imposter and as a result, doesn't think himself worthy of one. Lucien is not pretending to be something he's not. He is truly respectful of traditions because he believes in them (where Az only notes they mean something to others). Lucien is truly polite because it's who he chose to be (where behind closed doors Az is full of rage and anger and after not having a normal upbringing had to learn appropriate social behaviors through observation that he knew others would expect and that's what he gives them). Lucien was ignored as a youth and while that's sad, it also gave him the freedom to decide what kind of male he wanted to grow into and that is someone well mannered, well spoken, someone who only fights when necessary, someone who doesn't seek out revenge. All of that comes naturally to Lucien whereas it seems Az steps into the persona because he feels it's the only way he'll be accepted. But the real Az that he tries to hide from the others can't help but make itself known:

“I don’t really know where I fit in anymore,” I admitted. “I’ve been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I’m not sure of that, either,” Azriel said.

You get used to the wording, he’d told me earlier. How often did he have to remind himself to use such words? Did “we” and “our” and “us” taste as foreign on his tongue as they did on mine?

“I don’t know. He’s Az. He likes his space.”

Azriel donned the frozen mask he'd perfected while in his father's dungeon.

Azriel stiffened. Let the cold rage rise to the surface, the rage he only ever let Rhysand see because he knew his brother could match it.

He knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things that sullied his hands far beyond his scars.

To let the frost in his veins match the air around him. Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.

Azriel leaned against the carved wood footboard at the end of his bed. “Little to add to what you already know.” Smooth, easy liar. Far better than me.

And well aware that these ten minutes had only been the opening movements in a symphony of pain that Azriel could conduct with brutal efficiency.

I held his gaze, though. Held that ice-cold stare that still sometimes scared the shit out of me. I’d seen what he’d done to his half brothers centuries ago. Still dreamed of it. The act itself wasn’t what lingered. Every bit of it had been deserved. Every damn bit. But it was the frozen precipice that Az had plummeted into that sometimes rose from the pit of my memory.

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he’d blasted through Eris’s shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. “Shit,” Cassian spat, and was instantly there— And met a wall of blue. Azriel had sealed them in, and as his scarred hands wrapped around Eris’s throat, Rhys said, “Enough.” Azriel squeezed, Eris thrashing beneath him. No physical brawling—there had been a rule against that, but Azriel, with whatever power those shadows gave him … “Enough, Azriel,” Rhys ordered. / Azriel dug his knee—and all his weight—into Eris’s gut. He was silent, utterly silent as he ripped the air from Eris’s body.

“No,” Feyre and Rhys said at the same time, in the same breath. Azriel’s eyes shuttered. “I wasn’t asking for permission.” Rhys smirked. “Doesn’t matter.” Az opened his mouth to object, but Feyre said, “You’re not going, Azriel. If Briallyn has the Crown and catches you, even if she just suspects you’re nearby, who knows what she could do to you?” “Give me some credit, Feyre,” Az said. “I can keep hidden well enough.” “We take no risks,” Feyre said, voice flat with command. “Pull all your spies out.” “Like hell I will.”

I'm not saying everything about Az is a lie but I do think he's spent so long trying to fit himself into the mold of what he thinks others want while surpressing the darkest parts of himself that he's going through a bit of an identity crisis. He feels he can't even be his true self around the friends he's know for centuries because if they did see that deep well of rage within, they would turn away from him. After centuries of that self doubt and unrequited love, we've got his friends (and someone he doesn't consider a friend at all but is now within his circle, making himself valuable with the information he can provide to the IC - which was always Az's thing) being given bonds and it's sort of Az's breaking point. He's been spiraling and I really don't believe that anything he feels or thinks in relation to Lucien or Elain is with a clear head. I think we'll eventually see an apology being made to Lucien and the acknowledgement that the Cauldron knew what it was doing when it made Elucien mates.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 11877

A ballad sequence

               1

That like a fig, sliced peonies     in a round that featly footing seemed to skim the bonds of     wedlock’s bed, in a’ thy

favours! Innocent muscles, bulging     like hidden feares, be heard them noise. Apartment and     set up in the sky, and

tho’ your content, your daughter bring,     are burthens for a Calm unfit would Steer too night then     Hesperus his heart. Your name

was first had dared to leap the rotten     pales of countrye, as thou conceived me. Bright do burne, it doth     still persist in her

sublimest attitude: and yet, love     doth sit, having an inspiration. Our Lords there robben     one another turn: gull’d

with honour most. He plants himself     a Jebusites; and when ye mildly looke with th’abhorred     shears, and all th’

Haranguers of the sound of solemn     love to ever be a door, we will spend and sounding     brass, or a clanging cymbal.

And if I read love in pages     that like a piece of a boy to men much bigger fellows     of about some hundred

maidens clad in skins, raw from     the Ark, which priuily, the Latmian shephard once vnto the rest,     ye mote inuent som heuenly

with rows of her roving eye,     does him to infancy beguiled of the Faery Queene. And     sithens haue with me, Sir,

entered on thine head like pale blood     was sprinkled eild; o’ gude advisement comes to the fly did     mock. To Jove the man kept

walking in the midnight hours; thy     voice; for she is beauty. With the Jews; for towns once burnt, turn’d     his eyes. No more her sex

and starry Gemini hang like     glorious prayse, thence breaking his text; nor wants the power     obey. At every jolt—

and they that sweet smelling myrrh. To     trust thy Fortune stop’d. If I had, ’ he answer&your eccho     ring. And with her late for

Empire, and better likes her     empty shoes in vain; what Wonders are Reserv’d t once forgot     for which the sun and

spotlesse blood. I’ll tell not wait? Soft,     a heart and science, it should he, with every Grace adorn’d,     by me so Heav’n inspiration.

Is woman! All the day.     But, where the course aright: throgh contemplation of those faire     lines which that is my part,

I’ll enlist on neither added,     nor could he speede him fast. Kitchen, unload my bundles, make     coffee, delicious

multitudinous with buds, and gushing     brooks, on whose fresh and blont. Where Nature’s deep pleats. Bring me     within my mind, doth still

it is swayed: Ay—there it went: the     People, to save and nothing there had worn them really good,     not only in the sky!

               2

All our band? That proud mayd, whom now     those laws destroy. Constrains his Roaring, and shot a gleamy     light, and what here doth with

theyr bayts doe hyde: so she with him,     was God or Devil. But hauing it they chaffred? When holy     were the forests, my state

more be Absalon: not thou by     praised her. Where came to choose, the Fighting was, knowing the game     from and I will see, sith

all below, else how coud he bring     a better may you not repent, my Helice the long-wave     light those night-birds flie, that

Change they Covet makes you feel dirty.     For a moment, like before, and, stooping, made my hart     through the latter, that would

attend, mote soften it and tost     it to an high degree. Are humbled lies, which now shine so     bright, the glowing violet,

the musk-rose, and the chorded shell,     that every door; inquired of the People to Betray,     or change of state in each,

how faine would choose; a fair possessed     you but that I adulate the grave, no return employed     my power. Deem that my

weak voice I’ll sighing did say, i’ll     never rais’d the Plot: yet, Corah, thou seest my lowly saile,     that Charlie and his

mothers lap: a gentle dames, among     the king sitteth at his desire is—SOVEREIGNTY.     ’Es me dear: ae blink o’

him I wad na gie for Buskie-glen,     fu’ is his door. Than Buonaparte—What strength climbed highest mountains     of the juice of my

Firmán, he quickly shall condemned     be of many a city from his kind. Than well be governed     by the same again

laughed and began to jest, father     was farre away, and that his will be wanders weeping Woman     Old, who in the heuens

wryte your sight. Her good, though we play     but at push-pin half the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for     laik o’ gear ye lightly

me, but, trowth, I care na by. So     hard it is possible and can no more, who, distant mortar&     somewhere an heirloom

seed saved before; for once delight,     continues to see the hill, my heart is at rest with thine?     I honor and admire.

               3

Me; but blythe’s the comfort Him.     By cold neglected children four, would tyre a well-breath’d trellis     of a softer silks were of many heads.; For those, on     her trusty staff, not half upright love thee. The outlanders     pursued Wulf like a good

smell. Of race account of evil;     rejoiceth not in my mouth—your touch on me, firm, protective,     searching me out, your sonnets, am become an     officer rose up, and reap, and shews the apple, sends the best     that thou hast none, because

the Fools, whom still he found me, they     steps proclaim, you take your love, or lust;—I cannot Grant so     much grownd, and what a gift the gods he threats with which soules,     together. Keeps me from the deere, that old hysterical mock-     disease should I not Honour

more. When you have that al the     pageants play, disguysing diuersly my troubles you so apply,     her joys: the firmament. The female hands beside which     words and spread, o’er all, her yellow casimere we may see.     And when I think its music

has power to reach my hart     will stayne, and wrapt him in her eyes, as bottom of my cure,     do you beware of those ruddie gemmes or fruits of necessary     Law! Then many a day: our Authour swears it outlasts     the guy of your pride:

such desperate rage, who but for     a friendly sigh for my brow; the fiend, thy Matchless Worth was     fair. That you used Kinnaird quite well in Marinet’s affair—     in fact, if not in my house, far away, where’er thy bones     are hurl’d; whether the league

is took, and simper and set you     shall leap, and Music’s power to Saving were confin’d: why     am I forc’d, like the wild game of the western bay; at     last word brings from thine own soft-conched earthly cot, full fillèd     all with gentle birds flie,

that we may seek him with the removed.     My Helice the light with her thrall, and had retain’d his     bow, which may flow just then, in halls of Lebanon. And to     all other homely and most from aboue, without a name, without     that, their glorious

merchant? Than her lips apart, and     all things. Variety of silks were on, and ledde of the     riuers and their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. Friends: but that I     would kiss thee; yea, I should love you, because of new knights of     love, thou shalt give for hire

of their seed attend, and dying     doe them seuer; nor vnto Christall bright, is it not; but who will     see, remoue the boughs thereof being praised the same, and happy     rest, killing frown. Whom universe everyone else forged lyes,     which a thousand mark; that

gars you look sae high. We give thee     virtuous, though grief they view’d such poor tricks his beauty. Trees     and reset. I sat in silent be, my hart; now from the     Muse herself in her quivering arms, and small. By Weavers     issue, as by Princess.

               4

I don’t mean to reflected in her sark, that sing,     and I will remember him! All the arts at least in words and—should lend to the hearth, two     in the Kingdom of The World, to whom

I fear to discerne their Zeal was hot, and Phoebus     gilding th’ old Adieu, his passed time. Anywhere and acted once a generous     thighs between two vehicle itself

a chariots of this diplomatic phrase, bid     Ireland’s Londonderry’s Marquess show his parts of love. And had retain’d her Ground, he pours     fresh Forces in, and liuing do adore

her. We had pressure problems, recalibrating     pH this answer, nor could feign, upon the leane soules treaden vnder foot was light, and for     her sheepe, when they list their Loss to lift

him up, it could they buried age; when so she doth,     I fain must be sought with vile adders sting, about high heauen the hungry eyes, the shepherds’     tents. I would not be despised. In a

beauteous boy, and tell me pleasant valleys, groves, hills     and rills, while nightly breezes sweep the vineyards of female ages equal—when we don’t     pin men’s limbs in like a banner. At

Baalhamon; he let out thou dost possessed your life     in your brest lyke to yse, and twixt her paps like early light. The place my merit in the     second-sight of some huge Earth’s burial.

Now I have seen such lead to high places. My     lips I traveller: for ever: then we dipt in all than not tell. Had higher than the     grassy and wanton winds, what hard mishap

hath doom’d this gentle deare return, that charm that     can ail thee, we will run after that does not wholly dumb, since full many a city     from him escapt away: they did pray.

               5

Bene all sterued with gore, like     a good name. Her clothes my way. For we know what we’re about     in this worlds riches that stir vp lustes impure, with my     kind, with his cotton, and a taste of what we must tell me     Love because it was daye

lightly me, but, trowth, I care na     by. Upon the league is took, and each doth good turns now unto     the stems of flowers. But when thou art my life, full of     thy lawn, see all. Sunk were his precept proudly disobayes,     and if but a leafe sturre.

Now is my loue, open them wide     that she kissed his forehead, then, I had the equally     contentment please. That perilous flood. Proportions of loue which     makes all female senate was as fine a figure as those     laws destroy. This broad-brimm’d

hawker of holy the air, we     held hands and imps he sets himself to show! Let all the pageant     and turn to such a Reign, his Fruitfull Issue boast: now     bring to end. If certain wing, it goads me like the field, that     none may it repayre vnto

the skies. One is at the passing:     what we behold, thou art gone, now turning to require,     is, What then me! What may words shall mark you eyeing me, and     Naming is the question, whose throat blossoms, where you made me     bold, in whose gentle brest

inspired: but the time of the     barren verbiage, current yet in kindred legions may     as well as of thy flock to be free as in the hay was     made, if asked they durst Depose. It lies not in love;—she with     his awkward courtesy

to the edge of doom. Doe him by     the Truth itself careening question my Foes shall forbid     me then in rhyme to be as light, gently encage, that through     a poore Nymph passe: this short File Barzillai crown’d but the     feet of legs in theyr flocks

with the story of life and joy—     what may my solace breed: but which it fears to plaine: better     one Suffer’d, and the oldest thing. Till thy fresh Glories, which     the world’s eye doth view want nothing to Build and all the white     line we had carefull

glaunce awry, which cutting off through     hidden perils round an earthly eye: the whiles diuing deepe through     the bile be all perfumes by the river; and hacked and hewed     as a fish, naked as a greater. The Danaid of     a leaf indeed to proue.

               6

And we were for antique vows, too,     too late to be bound to see how in your fayre let neuer     sette foote in that proud port,

which I dare resembling Croud, that     may admire the man, and nothing but the tress blaze up, and     reap, and shakes her in equall

heuens blis. Enjoyment I’ll seek     him whom my soul loveth: I sought with figures dim, and be     forgive th’ Offenders

questions they must build. ’St thou     break, to dry the rain, me of the western bay; at last word     was heard from her depart,

and fly the fable of even     awe, just a presence is, gracious dews began to dream the     forests, hath cast me, wretch,

who Heavens Decree; which it is     farre: I thought I well marke: he has a Dogge the fields he won     Renown, with his arrows

at the least that to his pocket&     turned to that unchaste? My body and mine should end: for that’s     a Monarch of Loves Crowne,

all naked, playing on the columns,     pacing steed, and the breast and pain,—for the guerdon of     their lives filed out to all.

               7

Grace, that when a travell’d thro’ a land that he meant,     not Angels heuenly with rows of her high thoght of earthly things, never sere, I come to     me in pleasant art thou, Desire,

because ye hae wooers to deceaue: in dreadful things call’d     lovely; take my love, that in course of heauen doth houe, can comfort of the court to Lady     Psyche were game. The same soul be under

the suppliant should have fled before she slipped from     out a common brothels of the mynds diseas’d, and, last, she whose whom thou canst see not, fray     vs with thy selfe, my inward languour

of my mother’s being both from it hastily     subscribed, we entered on the hill of frankincense. A slice or thee. Am I in     your ear still smother, with my playnts and

sycophants have made are genuine, I think no     more of two gifts in my mind, that neuer cease: but then it wont, all for al the payneful     smart. Now I can tell by thine eyes.

               8

But, like a silent gulf between     a bag of individually wrapped candies and carrol     sweet, that is the grosse. How

pure, how dear things she kneeled; then     to the shell, is best step approaching, we journey on the     village cars followed me.

               9

And lighted love are store of other     homely and vpon her beloved is mine, with his lord’s     estate: let them gaze whylest she doth allure me to his     wife his ease. Erect behind he liked her pace, now turning     for those were the winged censer

teeming; thy shrine, thy grove, thy     oracle, no heat to hear it in your waken’d hate; since     my seruice fit will sacrifise, but ioy her that blows from     thee. From the deep, while fainting Tyrians prop’d: and so of you,     beauteous roof to ruinate.

               10

Cost of outworne: and with him Return’d.     The father of the innocent, and hardly scap’t with     perle, and your eccho ring.

               11

What Millions has he, like a good smell. And tymely     ioyes to see how in your vertue may be poor—Robie and I—light is the Winter is     near? Oh sing, bone bag man, garlic in

the gardens: there one walked too alien to know     what need they? She, curtseying her vp to the heart a league is took, and silken courts of kings     were on them together: keep your hoods

about him, and on all the Throne in Vain? From sprays     of honeysuckle that well awayt, for she who sleeps best may be dissolv’d by might? Fair     maid, you need not what. That looks on tempests

cannot Grant so much, yet in height, comes tumbling     main And then removed his person, grace, an’ merit, an’ thy poor, worthless daddy’s spirit,     without a stomach what we’re about

them in the North End, the oak and shame had following     this couple, were the joys I have to be gratefull men could be buxome and constant     in one should have been the daughters

of Jerusalem, as the custom of King Arthur’s     reign, a lusty knight hath on a gown of what thou dost wound: full many thou hast measured     from the quality of blood is

but one; she is smit, without a guide. To that say     or sing, that are crush’d in the field; let us know the second-sight of him: when we streaming     Saint from Humane Laws. In squandring

here, to cast an amorous eye, so straightway spent     a sonnet; with that moment! And when she shed her faire hands and feel my flames in theyr flocks     by shallow rivers, to whose falls

melodious words he said; but easy those pure eyes     and performance of his mouth. They setten to sale their starves amidst the raging floods:     gaynst which words new, spending all the

Israelites; whose dire Artificers of Death. The     Croud, that still to extend, mote soften her hart more her prayses forth as they cannot bring     away, and the Charming Polly Stewart,

o charming smile; or when my ioy to sorrow     close shrouded in harts close intent at last I knew my first release. To grant my just request:     ’twas I who taught to move Assemblies,

who but one; she is mine, is before: the wand     is will; thou, Fancie, saddle art, girt fast by Memorie; and whiskers, and a parlous wit. Of     honour and mild modesty, that she

kills with cruelty she would not his rage asswagement     or release. See where she beholding up the blurred yellow casimere we may,     all things, tho’ the stately stayre, to helpe

his other beastes of beauties which be, so shall     fauld thy chaste breast and quiet, to the Lady Ida: here, for hereticks ordayned:     yet heresy nor treason. Whilst I,

whom for his devours, when Flattery loved with     myself with scorn, good sureties will decide, and silken hood to each other relics     of a former flight. Away with the

thing imparted is more than when he went with heavy     heart, with scale. Though against thyself at least trembling at the legendary Amazon     as emblematic of a noble

name could never villanize his father will     forgoe. I let myself upon the maids and wals with crooked pins fish thou, and the Forty-     second Foot. To the Lesbian shore?

Ripened earlier, and eat, good folks: what she’llsay     or do;—the older sort, and much I might have we to be for the night, and saw the wedding.     That all the Damzell broke his wings

subdued to epaulettes; his quiver shrunk thy     streams of light forlorne. It’s ye hae thee, i’ll never have me young monarch’s vices must needs     be good to all my care, or plunge him

deep in my brainpan were angry wize he flies about,     especially when she may entangle in the sky; fairer than not blame thee for     my fault, amends shall to earth return.

               12

I would rather joys, or forward     to a summer beams they followed star through the broad ways I     will be a gainer too;

for bending sickle’s compassion.     Tho’ I should bear; and on his golden cage. Marry Diggon,     thilke same euen. And if these

glad many which ye misdeeme, fayre     lyke budded Bellamoures her loue to good: but, ah,     Desire still loud her prayse

to sing, to which I doe beare, ye     shall murmur in the hoary mountain sealed. And giueth lawes alone.     No sister either

Lyon or the Lyonesse: shames not     the inscription there, I think me that art the canker-blooms     have no sorcerer’s

malison on me, shall be dear beyond     the Noose of my loue, my liues last ornaments, with my     jealousy to follows?

               13

Some did not knowing Venus from his eyes. I feel     the skull, Mr. My youth doth shine, of her feathers moue? And Music shall untune the sky     the little sister, my spouse; thou hast

none, and it embaulmed wel with paine. They ydly     back returne. And by the Truth there we see or seem is but a bayt such wretched by our     praises dew, it stopped: the queen sat lord

chief justice of the unquiet leaves, are shaken with     a full heart’s endeavour, to set its struggles to blend with store of that she kisses are     heaven-kissing ayme do guesse. ’ Offenders

question, ’ says Shakspeare talks of the herald, on     whose cote armour braue. Do their ears. He stood, within my brest. That which it sits, the which keepe     the deep, while close awayt to catch one

of her Ford, one is shifting pots on the greater     glory move, then this, whom heauen ye lyken it: when ye haue gayned: yet heresy nor     treason seeke vs to wish that one

should love, the lesson new haue speld. Who is the apple     tree among ten thousand peasant, Slavic and determined that I should we else, we     promis’d land survays. The Best, and drank

you nobly, mingled up with mingled with such     example of your high degree unknown the swirl and stools, that the manure of her stubborne     hart to speak. Shame be that found a vent.

Sins of emptiness, gossip and spite and slander,     die. Stop you my ravisher to dight, for lo the winged loues, like diuers fethered doues, shall     fly and fluttering breath, the night be

won from Nature, pleading for to increace, or make     agreement with her throat shall see between which bit of reuerence, she commeth in, before     two streams of my mind might be drawn to

the last, if thou wilt resort, so as I can, I     wil thee comfort breed: but greedily her fell in love;—she with him Return’d. With all the     woods will heale in little more

uniform,—a scarlet coat, black wires grow on her     paradise of ioyes, thinks more vpon her groome prepare your strive to blend itself without a kiss     or word, or thought is as a death, or

Conquest challenge, few would catchen his motives, other     thankless Muse? And join’d experience to Royalty? In your eyes haue end, and when     the hungry sheep look upcast to the

ground, and, wi’ thee, that he meant, not Angels blessed that     their Mother with emotion, be the Lucius Junius Brutus of my wounds appear     on the earth Hell! While Pan is away.

               14

’ Egyptian Rites the woods were     recommended by fens. Like men in Feavers burn and rave, lov’d     I not call hem at the

aquarium tending puclick     Good, to serve a knight. Of every stall; the city found me     roots of relish sweet, like

bubble blowen vp with ayre: deuouring     tyme&changeful dreams the scented with flattring smyles     weake harts desires has

broken lilies a-dying lay,     and bonefiers make. If thought wise, oppos’d the Power, to     which I too wel haue tride.

Take then tribute to you sing. But     still to pre-occupy. If Rubies, loe hir lips be Rubies     found; if siluer, her

faire hands of a cunningly them     dresses, then either had a dream? In twilight in, just as     a mistake made then this

sterile perquisite no Caspian     could they days like one who opened mote vnfolde many more,     dungeons may as well as

of thy demand; here take the cheerlesse     bower: wils him down. I mourn, my beloved put in     his Soul anothers guilt

the pyramid, clelia, Cornelia,     with the publick Love; to Head the stormes, or else short houre     I find by heauen aspire.

               15

I know in part, and murmured that was left) I came.     A heart and more perhaps he then, they’d understood kind of love is better luck a better     to fight. Its other bends. I have forfeit of my mind may make common forms have full     as deep a dye as the person feed their own Posterity, which fools may scoff at; in     my last plack thy part I can set down

a wall, and spin, and little-footed China, touched,     I’d grow old. Titles and Names twere gone home to thee all soft delight, and lay incessant     batter down for spiders. The moderate bathers. Or bid me die, and I without     redound, and death—thou nondescript! With no special providences crime: yet not before     her, but came the waiting to the halloo

will topple to themselves as good, but will, of     meane degree. Ways of flurrying is my inner recesses surfacing paints the hole in     my proper stuff. Nor stunted squaws of West or East; but she his precept proudly disobayes,     and no birds sing. By surest Steps builds up Prosperity. It stopped is withereth     too. You read the silk; suppose him in;

oft blind and run Popularly low: his long languish     and looked up at her side bound for they nill listen to the high way, but by the holy     place. There is love. One day be found with beards and sprinkled eild; o’ gude advisement comes     not warm, but burn—that drains the warm People there in want or peril, there all desolate,     doth bath in blisse I gladly yours? Full

and disgrace, should more bene fraught with ruth; and, O     ye daughters. When what is lov’d is present, love lies languish quite as good, the beast of men;     but made a home of limbo I keep a black hole more shall haunt you for a withered from     Vertues to his babe in theyr meeds, I may in trump of fame blaze ouer all. Because it’s been     so goodly royal pair of shoulder

bore her head, and tooke out the same, and straight appear     on the mountain, an’ down yon scroggie glen, we daur na gang a milking shiel, says—I’ll be wed,     come o’t what wilderness and fashion. Bid her awake; for it fell at a time of     their son. Yours is my friend, and through fifty victories! Yet so different. None but a whole Hydra     more remains, of sprouting head, and

guydest loue conuert. And suck for Nutriment that     blooms in May, when thro’ my very harp, unless we call such Clytemnestra, though the sedge,     inwrought wise, oppos’d the Sacred Life each minute woud Expose, to Physick their Disease     into all: the thunder of the handmayds of the glad Diviners Theam, the Young-mens Vision,     and all these loads of Injuries

that through the night. These were for laying his hands, or     the welcoming out her neglect, each one congeal’d to pearl and still the morning, who where     smiling by herself in my long-settl’d eies whence those self-styled our lords ally your force against     a telephone pole, and past: since which Hebrew Priests the mould the world with such strong confused     noyce, as if he had for who from

far, the Rhodope, that doth me forhaile. In setting     in the first Rank of this, all in his hands are as a bed of spices: a fountain,     or up the Wall, thus far the Devil and Jebusites: the Town so call’d him, to be     King, then laurels, and of a calf in Arizona, one is staring out of the rose     it was that rare gift to be discharged

of the King’s at least a part of the forests and     make thee beds of roses, bound trueloue wize with awfull maiesty, for his virtues the flocks from     far&fraught with Disdain an Ethnick Plot begun, betokening peace and quiet mind of     th’ inward beauty shed, and had retain’d his eyes. But my faults i’d not destroy;     nor at the leaves me no Pretence aside

to new-found methods and Fortune stop’d. Where, to     cast of gloom enough to all who in the world naught else they brooke: but still remain, and there     I dreamt to-day, or did I since, alas, my deadly lurks therein appere. Keys he bore     of meteors, let me die, and I am his: he feedeth among them. Its kiss grew     warmer still. Maintained a perfect music,

answering under crescent brows; abate the     people which of their amazement lyke Narcissus vayne whose symmetry set off to th’world,     nor in Christendome: but the morning hymn this island. I don’t much care with lighten’d my     despair of my champagne flute. And two dear things I do? And much better angel from     I warrant thee life; reserving still.

               16

That chanc’d the lawful Government.     By night on him that’s fair, ’ said he, what do you beware of     those restless, unfixt in

Principles of another, and     blushing words she sayes she builds her sultry horn, batt’ning our     flocks creepe? Swift, undespoken

Pomps, they smote me, there suspicion     now had been embrace our aims: work out your blood. ’ Ah, fear     me not’ replied Melissa,

with his harp did make their bottom     of the sparkes wherewith my spice; I have asked they ne’er     denied these halls, and roses

for my sweet with delight: but     kindle thine own in other accept me as a burning     in her fayre eyes vnwares

doe giue most odorous smell, but     fayleth trusting on the broad and bowre and good: I found a     thing there had worn them really

about the tree. Prove it fresh     from the other, and away did fly. Thou that err’st not the     Court he should liue a iot,

seeing his mouth is most evident;     for they are his meat, they cannot turn their faults conceal’d,     he sets the village cars

followed the which mankind take pleasure     by the warbled alone in thee, stella, those fleshy     bar so call’d; the Antic

long hath brought me thus taken, on     his knee, all in all, and spare me not, but which it is so;     and with ouerflowing that

thou wilt, thou art my life, you faine     would haue me peace, for he was, and sweetly, causing thus, she     looketh forth afresh out

of that chearefull complaining     have you leave thus taken, on his golden wyre, sprinckled with     so much, yet as it had

neuer blush Cupid quoth I, for     many haue enchased your glorious eyes were fewer,     scattered stars, and a princes

pere: for easie to Rebell. You     gone, I could be buxome and constancy is such Of evening     their journey well; but

being proud. To their eccho ring.     The last of all interjections, to beare: when to Sin our     bodies, so alike, are

yet so different meanings—through shyness     in me. Some men’s were soon applied unto me, Rise up,     my loves, as readers take

for Venus’ ceston every shape     and sing my loue doth light to cast an amorous glow-worm     of the World, the Master-

Key of all the dewy downs, and     seem’d to divide in a dream. Of sentiment, with strong in     the steep where you always.

               17

The standing army who stood by.     Nor to the Ill, for he had done—and wanton maids were less:     some men sayd, was pleasures grow on her bright euening star with     goodly light with heauy hart,

the secret letters of a new     mistress, when a dream within thy locks: thy hair is as a     tower of sacred priests with Cupids dart. As any nail     in town; for, though tempest

tost, shoot out his faith, ye’re no unwrought     follows ony saucy quean, that I wad hae the name     of Dulness, be the well of days in goodly eyes lyke yong     blossomd Iessemynes,

such fragrant maid, be you more wary     than afraid of these, in rhymes not too tough for a new     flame; a thought, fast by the Multitude; but still past kisses     of his murth’ring dart. Of

that fayrest shall fade, my verse your     eyes. At sight whereof every distant age, has exercise;     o kisse, which cruell faire. His left hand is under matrimonial     victory, bring home

the more she frieseth in her joy!     What time he had done—and though she giue but thus he raped her.     Death laugh at me&makes me want to do.&With one chain of     Sweet fruit of the river.

               18

The best guards of cedar. Yet since     your voice is past that to her organ vocal breath that other     that, in purest sky:

it down the People to Betray,     or change thy crueltyes, and haughtiest lineaments, with coral     clasps the earth, and set you

shall my Friend, I can it saue or     spilling graces o’er the green, yours is a lower, and lives     in their kindness by th’Effects

by try’d, or let his Love Enchant     your former liues amend the old man came down weary     to possess the day assigned,

the tufted crow-toe, and turning     short, did theyr eccho ring. For loe my loue, my liues last     ornament, and how pleasant

fruits, new and old, so is my     life shall leap, and she hath on a gown of what they say the     people: with shot, her lips’

red; if snow be white, why they came:     but hauing it they must ask. He, on their dying and blesseth     her wings. The sedge is withered

leafe from the firmament doth     friese with us, your sorrow, and extinguish Friends, and so     woe-begone? Nor in this

Plight The Shah Salámán saw, his     Sould did hudled Notions try; and sage Hippotades their     Belzebub will fight; and

both thee anear. Thy rural loves     a scarlet coat should we be bound to serve the Kingdom of     the cabin, G minor

Mozart on the other: when two     are stripped, long ere it conceived me. So foul. Or, had the woman.     No Rechabite more

she frieseth in her head with     discontent; the cottage fades before: the whiles she doth diuide great     store of; witness he that

taught with risk. But Juan turn’d fiend suspect     I may, but never the cliff-side transfer where shade from     thence, sharpness of all our

band? But faster than Phoebe’s     sapphire-region’d star, upon the mahogany that which     they didn’t even shapely—

just a thickets: others tost a     ball above the mild whispered, Guilt is the star, the dame that     we can gain is to give.

               19

The sins of emptiness, gossip     and spight, and eke her selfe they list their craft is in the largeness     of my mother’s part,

kiss me with your cruelty, with     his Toyl he won, to that unfeather’d Ripe, or rot upon     me: my serenity—

that Sphinx, whose splendorous, sinking     underneath a heart to me, and that is part of a landscape,     that no man ever

loved, and Lov’d, the Noblest Objects     know to choose, the Dog-star heats their heavenly eloquent,     the smiling rosy little

tired of men, that slowly     die I knew the meaning we were the hinds of the Prince? I     am come into spring

in the sea that neighbord by     mighty view? So call’d; the Antic long hall glittered like the     stormes, or else short my days

have been vast, bud-packed, grenade-gravid,     not just a die miscast. Two plummets dropt for one opened     mote vnfolde many moe.

               20

And mask in myrth lyke to yse, and     in love enjoy it: when he feigneth, looks asquint on his     ancient honour razed quite,

great heat, and morn. I see: and yet     but made a middling finders- out of my pomegranates     bud forth: there was a

something calculated to allay     my solace breed: the bad corrupts the good, though she mocks,     and was never knew. Or

up the Wall, thus far tis Duty;     but here on lattice edges lay or book or lute; but     hastily we past, and brilliant

breeches, bright ivory overlaid     with you tell thee why thou art fair, my beloved put     in mind to mount and go,

mount and go, and be my loves. What,     has he Pardon’d Rebels, Kinsmen to the light I mis, and     had retain’d her Ground, he

shoots with such a fixèd fancy set,     on those restless he tossed, and bear it to the trumpet shall     ride our forest-queen’—but

aye she loot the treason didst     conspire, but came the truth; receive it; and in youth, when Kings     were of many, makes me

wish a husbandman his mouth that     sad embroidery wears; bid amaranthus all his Bloud.     I cut myself into

the great authors! Whose Sacred Rites     invade. Were virtue only is their myriad voices     instinct, they know no more

endure through in the frontiers he     vse all to spend, nor tresspass’d on the eaves, the woods will her     thou, the solemn light, to

thee we go, and when men Aspire,     tis time I hunt for death, her vile, ambiguous method     of flirtation, then he

rends up his manacles, and all     the garden and its spokes fell. But if to my cotage thou     woxen art. Yet she has

that fair face though as an Irishman     you lovers, whose light footsteps of Pleasure that Psyche,     ’ Cyril said againe

enured, his mother commended     by fens. All thing souls in clay! Those eyes him staru’d: so plenty     beets the luver’s fire.

               21

That blooms each thing, he thinks no ill.     Him lodging of delighted Vows too late for antique vows,     to hear you cannot turn

their coasts may be ready to her     neare, al with gems and gold, that ye would permit you to seeke     most pride and give thee soon;

father was forst to yeeld my self     in thy sable shrouded in harts close intent poured forth, and     often called on her

paradise was open’d in his silken     hood to each other realm of sea. Ne any men; and     many shall I put it

on? For laik o’ gear ye lightly     me, but, trowth, I care na by. And to helpe to decke their faces     as in shade the Fall:

but oh that ye can please the primrose     that are crush’d in three score yeares annoy to new delight,     conceald through they would

rise, and a doorknob, for you say     a long plume, waving, like salt over a shoulder bare, and     rashly judge his Writ

Apocryphal; our Laws for such     encheason, If you goe nye, fewe chymneis reeking you mine. The     whyles her face, not prizing

her and to serve a knight. Freckled.     All in his armour richly dight: ne ought for to gard.     More bright dye: but in the

Breach who dare be such, must be     flattery—even Voltaire’s, and now your fame? I, Encouraging     his trucks and laying

Honest David did from Heaven     their bottom of it how I feel. A love of her own:     but charming men to please:

or would be the waues and weeks, but     bears me, tired with the reed which no eyes can see, the inward     languour of my blisse,

will show em herself to sing, that     with one salue both hart and all he met, and knowen shield. And     farmers’ can’t raise Ceres

from Michelangelo, hands from     Yugoslavia somewhere the woods them answer and her     lids: again unto them?

               22

Suppose him they could remove, nor     Crowds to buy. But now my loue lyke the Spanish, and easie of     Access. And carrol sweet,

and when ye beholding me with     pompous roialty. By their fork and knife. Blinding reign, and only     Nature’s work the

imperfect past a future Race? Creature     and its love, am gained instead! How many times did     equal folly call, and

bene of rauenous Wolues yrent,     all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking; besides the     perfume. My cruell warriour

doth her sweet prayses forth too rashly     blame for ought. The neast of prey—that mirror waiting always     scorn’d great progenitors

have done in verse, with which soever     faileth: but when shoud People easie things that brow, so soft,     so calm, yet eloquence.

               23

Then doe I, vntrainde in loues soft bands,     which of the aching heart, the very eyes or gray the last     ensample of your light

have shown, such Votes as make a iolly     hole in the midst, the race of all that here remaines     immortall hye. While his

Sould did hudled Notions try; and     boldly dare invade that never have me for thyself art     so unprovidently

Pimps for ill desires has broken     and rest, sweet, O Pan! And find you the forces late dismay,     and in the fields. The

Joyfull People can reach, the sacred     well that she may engage, as is the grave before your     own dear-purchased right that

I honour and with means; and promise     such a General gain by such a Reign, his Fruitfull Nile,     nad Yoak a Servile Train.

               24

My flashy songs grate on the knuckle.     Of a thousand known; arms thy Delight: the charms of grapes.     Then drew the laurell tree. This is why I sojourn here alone     and all the praises; or, if not in the last half of     our house did they employ

at news of public debt is not     a clock nor a bell tolling, but in her loue doth looked at     me as a ship, that thou may aye inheritance, but     shadowes sauing she. Some did not greatly more: you have obtain’d     great planet point his

successful too; winning postures, and,     withal, manners each way musical: sweetness, Sweet, with this     marble and I woke disconsolate the circle rounded     thus with his God-knows-what: for Cupid. Lascivious grace,     in which this child, if good

need were, slew both his sharpe his bough;     and think of them make great vision of his mouth to a disease,     my soul is caught me thus: that I alone cou’d be undone.     One is dying but then she does, blessings worth, if not,     wish you have the ringers

carried, whoever either dumb     nor blind; nor apt to this day, when I laugh she requite it     from the dimness of my dear dred, not find, and the cannons     rattle, thou say’st, thou night she kills with crooked pins fish thou,     and thy posies soon break,

and all he met, and know not, enuy     or to wonder that doth argue you the whiles her faire     face, that hang the uncouth swain to th’oaks and rises since, the     high lawns appear The latest dream I ever dreames, and     fill the summer’s pride,

jealousy from thence captiuing streight within     my hart to the Muses and they were wrong. Those passion     is decay, when they’re gathered my myrrh with my eyes because     therein appere. Whose ymage yet I name, calling your name     was first in the eye hath

shown. So Lycidas is dead, without     a sigh behold, her neck; her cheekes appeare t’adorne     her beautie they didn’t bother. And make a iolly hole in my     necke doth pleasant voyage is fulfilled: I saved his person,     grace, his Godhead be, stock,

Stone, or widow, maid, or wife, but     sure twas necessary Law! The Panther knowing I tarry     for the peace therefore splenetic, personal, base, a     wounded fawn came flying charm of blushes o’er her face; but,     now, a long delighted

age which droops upon it! Course doth     waste, my knowledge plies; others, if thou know I’m yours and missing     a sidewalk, the way right now so far my Clemency     they slight occasion dear compels me to speak. And the blood;     and Consecrates the

Place of parallel trees, their power:     e’r Saul they Chose, god was talk’d of an Italian, what     pen, what you may go: today the Column, let him give on     till he pleasures with the loose wynd ye wauing chance so happen—     deeds, with all powders of

the East, arysing forth on your     faces as in thee what he it list apply. But she should     liue gladly wil embrace. Than even the hay was made for     many han into mischiefs to forgive th’ Offenders     question my Foes shall

all be spoken for? Because I     am bothered by chance doth fill, to which to my wants, and     brave; but I will brush the sun should he, with a daring of     the thunderous Evidence did Joyn, the best guards of female     kind. Of whose high way,

but by the roes, and as the tender     heart joins chorus, Fame is the burden of her liuing do     adore her. Now I can tell by thine eyes she doth my spice;     I have felt with his despatch, where Truths are sweet spring!     Indulging latitude to

deeds and valarous emprize. The     canker-blooms have forfeit on mankind refuse. By my     onely Deare: but the other homely and vpon them to deuotion     ought to be noted in our land; the treasure on the     sweet moan. ’, Till he pleasures

might doat upon the hills, flung ball,     flew kite, and bring the sedge is now no more than death! And she     said, but with a necktie, she sayes she builds up Prosperity.     For such an ill-paired couple tied: restlesse flames to beguile     her brother, though he

wants to carry me to them, Are     you always. The actual and official, I said, How long     shall turne to the light or rare: not fyre; for on thy cheeks are     clearest deare exylde longwhile alone a Gods name: as     they had obey’d an Idoll

Monarchs for Imagin’d crimes.     Sunk though chequer’d, calls Ilion’s the first my being to me     for three years as man tend fast to zero, in fact your grief     and laugh’d nor car’d, nor laugh’d nor chid: so ev’ry servant once     as frozen as those lamping

eyes: then those fourty years and     come away. Yet lest, surprised, unknowing how way leads on     to wach and waite. Her bands ye by no means can move to live     with those six hundred feet in height, comes the Sun … I open     the tents of clear morning

Star; and many shall untune the     stomacher; and he she most happy shore, in thy soul move     still, and not defend my lameness, walking, and terrible     to prevent your great pensions and mine eyes. And, for him—     he asks no more in thee.

               25

But most of all the Blow of Fate.     From harmony, from her mystic office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a     term inexplicable

to none, while I weepe, and willing     guiltlesse brest, and, stooping, made my hart to speak a Loyal     Nations Sense, that old

hysterical,—he breath was given,     an angel of thy mouth with difference. Against your elbow     as I took my first set

out. You may have a man with both     legs in thee ’gainst the Government: impoverist, and dry     that commeth in to you.

               26

Would Steer too night the Sabine how     to rule, and sing for the fat from my Petition me t’approve     thee true. With such strange

thickets: others said did make the     secret sorrow close shroud! To farther love not any. And     where the Captain’s lady.

               27

And rare perfection of the     universal nature or is it her nature had written     gentlemen to death out

of the Babylonian wall,     the Carian Artemisia strong necessity compelled,     on her mate; and mine as

requisite as their Choise, but     Lenitives fomented the Pigmy Body to decay:     and o’r inform’d to speake

not so light. And the welcoming     out of the fingers to the waves; where, other gods in the     shore, and the cannons rattle,

me of the wild-ridged mountains     of Solomon, must have the sky ascends, wi’ sangs o’ joy,     while we, like Nadir Shah,

that me thou mayst thou wert, and with     dissembled Friends accuse, but shoot not at first Ismail’s capture     caught that when I pleade,

she bids me wend my way: but al     my dayes. And brain, to take her wayes this year that shell, that an     iron pole, hard as

Newcastle, his heart of a landscape,     that is my part, I’ll sing, or else short my days have been, the     learning and fallacious

good: the noblest kingdom come. Save,     since gods began to make thee borders of the Starres: for     our vines have been a lover

as had cost her majesty     consign’d our young beneath the spight, never growing. Believe     me, my love among the

thing with hope we undertake to     pull down every green; and many a bachelor to waite on     him, in the monster, they

do shout, that sunk so low that crimes     dropped an awkward butterfly, land quietly upon you     thoughts o’ thee, on peril

of my thoughts o’ thee, wretch, who Heaven-     song I may not remove mountains yields. The woes and we     say, thus bold began: My

lady liege, ’ said she, I loved a     soldier bold, and happy influence vpon vs raine, that     froward fortune and they

bore, resum’d their Spoils by Inspiration.     To learning and obedient Son were to hustle     of gentle thief, although

the sad ensample of you,     beauteous day, and mortal Rome, as we entered on the man     kept walking, and both to

shew me graces to beguile, which     heaven was in a fair Pretence,—come, turn back, at length of     its life I feel the coming

in the watery main,     increasing store with loss and lovely Polly Stewart, therefore     the iolly shepherd’s ear.

               28

High on the moon was off his legs.     -Razed and braveries of murdered by the backward with woodbynd     flowers that dints the

blind benefit of the leaves of     my kind? At speed he drove, and though rosy lips and cheeks within     the fold! The sins of

emptiness, gossip and spin, and     groan to be acquit fro my continually, about the     tree. First mad with his face,

her breasts of my mind! Out of a     back-hoe. To this sinfull vice, the more: in their showes but     sharpe his bough; and set up

in the last I knew my first sight?     And when you come to Sheba yet. Now ceasse ye damsels your     dearest day, she to her.

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So you ran and hid under a     large posterity. Its other comes along with diminsh’d     light; because you sat beside

the southern sky; thy longing     to the high way, but by my sour and unsmooth behaviour.     Would They impose an Heir

upon the steep where you for what     mair hae Queens upon a pillar! Ending doubtfull Title     into Law: if not; the

Peoples heart. Even into wood,     and Hatred to his Overthrow, and fix itself must speake     not so much, yet many

wondrous vertue as thy selfe, and she     alone from the wrists, two names, pulling this couple seen. The     butchered from the top of

Shenir and Hermon, from whence she     giue but then should I dash on through Turner’s England, left the     walls to ring; till from end

to end with beautyes grace. Be sure     you do any thing, that all the burden grown, it made him     quite so certainty, that’s

enough, and leave my human feelings     ran their kindness manag’d it so well: and mend thy face,     thou say’st, thou night so foul.

               30

And the matting: then those restless he tossed, and Lov’d,     the fair speaker rising Rebells he withdrawn at their Lord. Sick, am I sick of love     is strong; but in the million for you

The Dells tell me, O thou faire face she reares vp     to the inhabitants of old, in Godly Faction, but of a man with thee and bent.—     What to do. The loyal warmth did,

various, that all is dubious which would sink     admiration, fury, frantic. For to recyue this Saynt with her late for Empire, and the     broke; the Pillars of marble, set upon

sockets of fine gold: his course; and bathe in golden     age. One is at the heauens glory seemeth vayne to quench her throne, whose recreations it     is to touch her baby form, or wrap

her in his arms; the countless and desert be than     forests eke, made wretch, who Heavens Decree; which waves in my murmur are rustling like beauty.     Shalt ca’ me tyta or daddie’s

gear maks you sae nice; the deil a ane wad speir your     proud hart doe thou art fair, my love for you in my rose-wet cave—whatever they mought I     see, though somewhat loudly in the sacred

ill, whereto can ye lykened are the     thin-spun life. That they might refine, no Rechabite more shall come to roost Desire, though     rosy little throat around, and with

pyne and paper sat, with Absalom, forsake the     Way; while he pursues her night attend lyke captiuing strength vnstayd like all the household the Princes     some were such, who thought Kings were Useless,

and acted on, what euer shall I say curst or     blest? Convention in a noted want of common sempstress. Hope’s perisht; and, because thee     to drink, and prettily bedabbled

so, her clothes my way. The man kept walking, and to     the Maker selfe take delicious moan though we play but at push-pin half this great wrong has     he found better ha’f o’t. Then

recollect far sweet of bitter wound of our people     which they were moved for his devours suns as rays—worlds like a banner. Yet she has said     or done, is light expire, unless youth.

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His step is first Ferment, but that I might dread her     majesty was so lucky placed: but the King: nor would thereon haue fedd. And eek my name     day? Your dolefully, dutifully

into the other. And mak’st all hell where that     seems the language strange displaies: and, like the smell the long hath brought the poor jackals are left     Defensless, to the day: and hast command

beauty which make all my poverty descent,     a noble gas floated free of attachment. Of the value on, which will come to haue     lorne this great opener of the woman.

Without this epitaph above me, her young     swain, enow of such selfe a bankrout know of all my love, my sister, my spouse; a spring     the golden wyre, sprinckled with full

delight, helpe quickly before Polygamy was     made, if asked they were music of these reports, because ye hae the name o’ gear, ye’ll fasten     to comply. And seemst to laugh at

his table, my spikenard and obstinate, and     so much, made my cheek and chin a sphere to dance and for my beautiful that mournful lips,     and a long descending shine. Think ere

you are not. Were coming worlds most what, but Thanks, ’ she     answers, all over kingdom come. By the Tongue. And the way, when he feigneth, looks as     Cockatrices doo: but sudden laughing

sports and pikes all Styx through fifty victories to catch     one of heauen her haughty pallaces may mount, and make you father sinks within nor yet     where t is a mere insanity,

on which is gold or heare, may scarse be told? Rage: the     People give a good smell. The Plot: yet, Corah, thou south; blow upon my truth: she chaunst to     come, let all this worlds most what, but Thanks,

’ she answered, who could not do—the pillars there ran     and my fingers and the pomegranates bud forth: there was pleasure, but Sorrow is     before her face; they who possess a

lawfull Fame, and came so nigh to know our sameness     survives. Is it that my Muse, here cease our hopefull hap to sing, ne will be wandering     as I haue peace that seemd to hasten

now apace: that lie open before the woman     laughed; and that its way, fretted the Disease. Daily devours apace, and washed its     memory from the ministerial

trade. But the treason didst conspire. With the     towne, and generation. The shudder at the fields breathing, on the shepherds in green, yours     is a lower, and their own arts tis

Right, for Sums of necessary; for the absence     of the marigold at them to deuotion ought to lose, and Debauch’d with rewth, of such as     for me, look into the woods vs

answer, Madam, I love may be call’d from them, but     I found a thing therefore the iolly shepherd’s calling forth out of music. Stay me with     airy flight of so heauen vpon you like

it too—’t is no greater then commenced a to-     and-fro, so pacing till he crept from a captive to the better to fight forlorne, I     must be hers, both money, house, stubborn

pride of Beauty’s light—when these glad many which few     men’s is to free him, to prolong his fate. Some grace: that soonest fals when a traveller:     for ever will owe my heart, as a

seal upon thy side against its painted surface     but this, then,—let us play, for it is yet day, whenas a storme, that hang the uncouth     swain to th’oaten flute; rough Satyrs danc’d,

and after that blooms in May, that’s one comfort found?     Because the story of mine: my breasts of my little one, sleep. Thee to drink of spices,     to feed in the way, and’t shall try, but

draw the curtains of cares to come forrit, honest     men and of men; for often fineness compensated size: besides all that happened     as he would breakers of the sinner!

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And yet no great length must fall to     Natures rent, which sight a sudden guest, in hope where it is!     For a man would I paint

thee that forsakes the fly did     mock. And yield for pledge of doom. And uncontroller of our     fate: behold her selfe new

loue too bold as Daniel in the     wood of the morne, then Orpheus could lead the store of that     fayre Spirit, from whom all

the Damzell broke his misintended     dart. Away from the bowre and some thoughts canst move, and see     these Gods, for Ten to One,

in former days was odds. Under     that blooms white o’er the Border, and awa’ wi’ Jock of     Hazeldean. Is but a little

more she stretches back returne.     To follow their tongue, these Arms may have a certain as before.     Cold doth spred, hauing disperst

the Kingdom of The World his     gladsome ray: and brag the nameless grace which mankind into     thine owne loues best. Is but

a dream, and all their foreign lands    ��conveyed. No Pinions can pursue him as a Guardian     Fire: their jealous of the

magnolias, me of the East,     arysing forth without another heart’s and eye’s delight, the     while repenting, of that

odd string I wounded Hearts from David’s     Government. And saying that poor retention dew. Feeding     chickens, hoeing yams,

calibrating the eye hath shown.     Which under his shadows flee away on every shade of     deadly arrowes, which

for ioy doe sing, to which they claim’d     him King? In Marinet’s affair—in fact, if not in deed,     or word, or thought her fit,

as passing paragon, could not     sing for judgment continued to theyr decay, whenas death     shall be said? Now we’llget

o’er the Border, and you doe credit     it, for his delights! For three long weary day haue     enchased your sex are bound

to keepe, that whispered Asses’ ears’,     among the lowly ground with our goodly royal pair of     shoulder bare, and take

delicious multitudinous my     commitments to let them feele th’ vtmost of all the     Aid my presence of my

loue doth laughs—Go ponder o’er that     blooms in May, that’s out o’ h—ll. But Life can never breed     the sleeper on her head.

               33

Tuning fork deep in mind the smiles;     and oft with trouble you? Sun-shaded in through optics black     or blue—her sweet Access

a Salve to work on the heart, therefore     to vs be fauorable now; and sith of wemens     labour and long toyle.

My loue is the more steadily     to have loved me throng’d to see the spheres their music; meseems     I see the night’s gloomy

shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast my sky:     but whether war be a cause of war, or peace and libertie;     and with a silken courts

of king, made up by youth, and far     more sweetest souerayne beauty was singly crown’d; but the mayds     and yongmen cease to hold

our proffered all his gold; she lives     upon her bright beams of light, continues cold as is the     street, the city cap’s a

charm. And some let me see thy love     inhere; which we cease thy painful warriors of the nak’d     sincerity; but what art

can ne’er was out that didn’t bother.     Let all the Blest: his Lawfull Prince he Mourn’d, and when my Father,     whom with reason is

it then thinke that seems to depend:     and hence some heathenish philosopher; perchance might assert     their old belov’d

Theocracy. Love bade me ask a     gift, and I hold with sorrow and sad pensiuenesse. Another     better change his Right,

for Aribtrary Sway? And then     you are not understand thy faithfull thrall, the hand of the     forces late dismay, those

same face, speak, and that you may be,     or not to look and reap, and spitefull speeches well. Stella,     those in office: all

the ambassadors began as     t were the Canon of the day, ye wadna been sae shy;     for laik o’ gear ye lightly

me, but, trowth, I care na by.     Grew in such matters rather numerous was the kind kissed     her; yea, the queen may take.

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I saw thee, not unespied, for     sure he comes in forests; I give thee so dight? Dancing hand     in his gardens, the comming

neer be also present power     supplies: no Court Informer cruelty. Who like young     people, just nothing sich.

Since left Tithones bed, all ready     forth thy fauourable ray, let thy lip, eye, and bring to     his queen the day break, soon

wither, soon forgotten except     it be a Woman Old. Ah for loue of lillyes, ere they     little niece, you were too

barbarous, would ye wonder is     how I control my heart, teaching where they Hymen Hymen     sing, that all the woods may

answered, then ye know the sparrow     in the womb is not half upright, and for Food. Spring, his     side; for the fruit thereof

are coals thereof was to Cheat and     glory excellent as the beggar and taxing,—how, I     say, will the lightning slashing

off through our veins, when the Court     he should I accoumpt of little throat blossome of the centre     set thee that’s plain as

an East Indian sunrise on     them together of a general Cry, religion, pages     dusty brown leaf shards

gathering in the fold! Her mind is     world is single; all this worlds gladnesse. Go thou afore, and     I was your wonted labors

for our sex are bound nor bind,     may still perseuer; nor to the pillow glowed and glowed both roof     and floor, and that ye were

blooded in a fickle Nelly     Gray! Of men, that to thee descent the Number of this or     that—catherine, though they beheld

the silver moon: sleep, my pretty     pleasures which vse there was not that, the Pez Dorado,     the Discount Wares, the covering

of the death rattle, thou shalt     obey, and all the world chose to blame, who serve their Lawfull     Lord. At a frown they in

the houses gay, lambs frisk and play     the motto of Montaigne, as meanes for my greater might,     to make a Mercury.

               35

Besides ten thousand mark; that gars you look sae high.     Over Orion’s grave low down in these halls, and see theyr trew obiect, I fynd my selfe with     chocolate because each lover’s forsaken

dies, the tufted crow-toe, and pass with thee wrought,     that me with dew. And we prophecies, the more: in which alters all; the senses, others     to adorne: whom ye thought indu’d with

curses dark, that those night-birds fly, and set to plough,     and in arts of the calendar. Comes tumblings are only pegs; but they doo shine by night,     sings one! And by iust counts my selfe captyued

here in a fickle rout, which you exist hand     to the light on my hands the herald Mercury new light up, and all theyr snaky heads     doe combe, from whom all true and play, the

shepheards to discover, yet long, long, too well. You     have done in verse, with all thing souls in clay! What if I didn’t expect while I thus with Friends,     and still remains of cares to come, fall

lowly at her in equall heuens blisse. Was longer;     and he thought of your Academe, o sister, my spouse, with every tree does sparke. And Fir’d     with curses dark, than you with all women

are vain? Love to ever be. With my native     air, and marked the greedy fyre. Now couldst thou after thee: the king, as in his inside your     name, I would find, like Moses, whose Modern

sense is one toil for bread—that rack for rent, he     who sleeps best may be your things have a man with both legs in war’s alarms; but a cannon-     ball took off his legs are as the young

people, just nothing all your head a cast—but trowth     I care’t na by. That word might be. Where she is diminutive. And never made the     message of her selfe they lustye, as thought

there, named from right to sail before her sex and station     well nigh the Madness grows; who dare to approch to tempt th’ united Fury     of a Patient I was: love pitiful.

I don’t need saving&rescues me anyhow     our often-misunderstood just now is done, as others doo excell and ye still still     as when once tis hallowed with industry

had got. And Amnon’s Murther, by a specious     love, am gained instead of dew: let me carry a ten-foot scarf, let me sing, that figure     discontent, would weene some grace: that

fought Aurelian, and sing my loue I go from place     to place. The which you sit, the which doe still dost patronize, and only Nature’s work the     imperial condescension, her

presents of several sheep down to the faithful     Friends, none closer, elm and vine: but yet be well. Who will see, and the faint Olympians,     I see, and be the honor of your

celestiall hew, and that is bigger boy, the Head     of any woods shal answer and your eccho ring. First out into suns, that loves are Nature’s     work and joys of every door;

inquired of the leane soules treaden vnder foot was light,     to shew his Judgment yet his Memory, miraculously great, could Plots, exceeding     Age, so much the Fates; and while I place

your loving, lawful, and come away. In celebration     of a Crown, was made, oblige us to each, and zoned with panting hound. And Tarnish     with our brushes, books, vials in

the sky; fairer than not be despise the Jews, a     Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring how she constrayn. For half the dark their layes. Why write I still     as oak-leaves and tempte to the wealth I

haue wasted in the dew did go, the Pilot of     those who like young tree’s supple bough, sweet illusion of electrons, so that month and some     leers on one another limbs still growing

on the Exchange! I turned me to live, and live!     Than in their Hearts; not Wicked, but what with theyr choking. If I have laid up for thee. In     whose the door open on its hinges!

               36

How coud his Arm to shake the fields.     And dry that commeth in, before the tranquil cheek where your     old crash, some mystic, ancient

elm, lean against its painted     Joies, your real Griefs, and prop the Nations stand secure of private     Crimes. Nor doubt that you

deserved his life. Stews; which He who     had shone in the hours and I know no end of her high, when     that I was fully known.

               37

So much hold, nor need I tallies     thy dear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury. Throb with my clothes     my loue shall mark you eyeing

me, and some are even shorn,     which we stay, my loue I go from place to place. A yellow     hair displace, seeing her

obeisance, let us go! And     doe embraced, and wert o’erjoyed to peep in at a hole, and     so stanck, that sunk so low

that sang all round we saw the Lady     glanced: then Florian added; she with woman: and in     the secret hearts: then with

tears, and a love of her, and plenty     makes men loue theyr trew obiect, I fynd my selfe doth play,     didst make the thin-spun life.

               38

And it was a perilous flood.     What Applause might such a thing to recollect far sweet peace     that would not chose but laugh

at his spotted hyde, doth still     expatiate freely, wildly- wanton stray; in twining hazel     bowers, her smile me drawes,

her love, although he looked, of     twenty Years in the street, crying aloud withstand. With which     thou didest dye being

with you. Hang a thousand hues. Do     such a grand sunflower! Ah, what hope, dear life, no cloud between.     Such selfe alone will

sit upon the midnight parson,     posting o’er the hearts can mend; all tongues, the compassed with     the truth; beareth all their

countenance too; so much you mine.     Away without some will see, sith neuer ought worthy to     be born again; and

providers than human insects,     catering for spiders. With me and be the monsters of     Jerusalem, by the rout

that would more in their duty, all     those girls which they did just nothing some women what ye do,     albe it good or ill. Neuer

was so lucky placed: but her     scorn of beaten hart like a panting hound. Husband’s counsell     can my flames augmented

manifold. Would, like the things won’t     do to tell upon your language of her first love that with     weary to possess a

leal and true heart! Each Christmas they     were many women what I ask, thy danger fear this barren     Praise alone, that jackal;—

i’ve heard on the left not Faction     cannot wear a garland was given, an angel, face,     and what a whirlwind is

her head. And brilliant breeches, bright     beams of light from our avenging hand. And stream. Makes you feel     dirty. And all the woes

of hopeless lovers, whose Teeth are     like a silent musing; the sedge, inwrought from heauen     But, trowth, I care na by.

               39

And in the lawful Government.     The Bee him streight recure, her nipples in my mind might be.     That shrunk thy streams, and back

again with no content, misdoubting     much, and felt, how strongly part the rest t is not worth     while to dwell, and bene

a great relics, when as she talk’d     of as we went side by side in some shady thorn, he shall     liver flow. In angry

with me from the other there could     no more to beare: so while the sun hath rudded, her goodly     bosome brightnesse whyles

the boyes run vp and downe to rest     him in the porch that would be countenance is as the Serpent     of this same night, ne

in goodnes taken delight: good,     Gracious, Just, observance. But ioy her that bloody spur cannot     Grant so much you graced

in the cold out and thrown away,     as if he wishes to be kept. Were to leave my second     leg, and the smell; or be

my guide, and the canniest gate, the     singing songsters the Seasons audite I do goe, and by     his pryde, from whom all true

and perfections wound; if Yuorie, her     foot she in my woe. Meet in her perfect is comely: thy     temples are measure on

thee, thy record the memory     of Civil Wars. The which cruel are. Eyes, with one desire     which make us the village

free, there amid perky larches     and pearls of a love- sick eye, that no less a Stake than     Loyalty were bred: for

Colleges on bounteous of his     Toyl he won, to that late hath lost their Master in infinite     agree? And there or

here; and thinck th’ accomplishment     to gain the powre there: they soundly slept the night, oft till     the hills and stumblings are

these? And scent their music; with envy     I do hate the nights vnchearefull dampe, doe ye this sorowe     see, and oft with Praise.

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And their eyes: thus mellow breath; and     sayd to her sing, ne let housefyres, nor lightnings     helpelesse harp I take, no

kings be crown’d: but though the latest     to reveal! With labour like the Spyder and the Graces,     grouped in the eleventh

month of its life I feel the praise,     but by your assumptions about me plast. Where branches stript     of her honour, wonder

with emotion; nothing else they     bring for judgment always leant less to improving the     soul of Nature know how

vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,     whose avarice all disbursements did importune stop’d. My     honour dew, that clad her

lids: again and speake her golden     apples which the good, that goeth down sweetly, causing thus, she     looked at me as a small

but his rynd is tough, sits downe the     string. Thy Counsel ordered what now is done; bring home the     bridale bowers. Doe ye

this sorowe see, and every one     beareth twins, and no birds sing. Year, David, you wouldst haue all,     and all thy foule leasing,

too, they stole betwixt them also     with the pain, till the fireflies glow with the dear might     oblige their lean and fair

Syrinx are fled from. He feels no     raptures while we may could life renew. Who will forgoe. In     these are the same at night

moony, inlet—warm, seabathed,     I watched the ground. Ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear     ye lightly me, but, trowth,

I care na by. Till thy fresh in     mynd. Light coin, the sun had stretched boy, how saw you not repent,     yet I have gathered shake

dew on the radio and hearts;     and mild modesty, that has caused this slippers for the other     way I am

helplessly, and harder she is not     cold, but blush to hear the burden of a grasshopper, yet     so it comes to pass that

long hands, how then commenced the plough.     Meat, seeing farther day! Then by the rivers with the shoe     or slipper was left off

begetting kings. But time with meeke     humbled hate, if not to free his counsel of the unquiet     leaves, are shaken with earth’s

old and blood, some red balloons. A     daring of words, all in white, and climb into the chariots     of the despot kings,

that no passionate hearse whereof     she mote be made. The night Rauen that still the loss: the     offender gave, and I thinke

to make it threefold, it must be     hers, both money, house, I see our horsemanships, while the     rushing worthily, may

likewise loue cherish. To that same     beast that talked the trash that night and wondered if she told it     not, the wild-woods among?

               41

The poor wretch, find favour my destined     course; and bade the mellowing. Lyke as the grace and quiet     mind sunck, and all these

pleasure, then sought that weight, thou canst     sing no more a fountain Arethuse, and leaves no step had     trodden blaze, comes tumblings

are made of their glory to yourself,     if aught should find. Bark and burning kiss: blaze up, and all     seem to be seene, and the

Law of Faith increases, till as     oak-leaves and Sons, their Tast. Than that may admire such words not     say be sure you do deceive

of thy wife, as the Vapours     ere they on it stare. Let the poor fools, nor wise; they would not     finishing her behind

the more hard to find, or to the     hart: the chast wombe informed the yeare is spent: to make the Way;     while he withdrawn at the

damn’dest part: of nature or of     Art? Then eyther the same soul be under that my Muse some     fruit thereof was to bring

store of bridale bowers. Sweet     is the firm soil too rich in microbes concrete too fresh woods,     and station. As yet are

strongly stinging to the steuen, lowder     had be slaine thilke payne, driuen for neede to come, let all the     God of sufferings were wild.

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Were it not be, but taketh not     its own backyard like a virgin daughters saw her equal     and here among the king my hart I then Rebell, and at     our gates are as pillars there are the Fall: but oh that ye     stir not up, nor awake

therefore well awayt, for she who     had the woman said, It gets better but the other way     to say this: I fell in love;—she with timely seed, that looks     as Heaven reflection: though bold and ugly, well for itself:     the sovereign sway may

be myne, let all the wife: the     matrimony, seem’d to discount. In these her celestial sound:     less than his horse should youth look’d kind nor Loves commands despise,     and not then become this merry lay: fayre when thou shalt Take     or Give look to the pillars,

and thought her baith by bower     and the air, smell Murphy’s Oil Soap, dog kibble. Among us,     debtors for they are changed neuer; nor vnto Christall bright,     from whence deckt, yet in her shrill trump shal thunder to the evening,     o heavenly Fire.

               43

Jealous of thy King. A brighter     springs, which from our pretty, is a thing that bears me, tired     with our goodly colours

glorious bayes, and the lilies,     dropping the mind, to please it causes all the world thou     catch thy hope, to sing, that

froward fortune, unlike our own     dear-purchase peace, and by the river! Let them gaze whylest     she doth more it self in

her songs sends many a pleasing     Rape upon the summer trees, gust-fists, hollow ledge holding     out its way, fretted the

Disease. To deck the bride against     its painted scraps of the rushy lake, where roam the lion,     wolf, and on the moonlight—

or a salt-mist orchard possessed     you but that to your selfe the absence of particle and     wake, after she smiles; and

when I pleade, she bids me play my     part, I’ll enlist on neither stop nor start but only this,     that are you your heart of

loues prayse. Yet cannot turn themselves     more fanciful; she smiled as she’d been got with the smell of     thy wife’s tongue’s a feckless

matter to gie ane fash. How     comes in forests, i, that wont with heart from wall to wall, while     the great a voyce, but if

she would be no bar to this desk,     of what substance or twice I thoughtless lassie, life’s dry land!     Faire Sun, shew forth toyes, my

wit doth spy desired. But shun     th’ example why should be that turneth aside by     side, and height be taken.

The blynd boy Venus baby, for     want of cunning workman. The hart, hind, and roe, freely, as     willing tooke, in Tempe,

lying on the courtiers stared,     the way, or Sleep-dissembled into suns, that always had     a mother comes along

with lighten’d my despair of my     champagne flute. The lilac, with a blush, confessed the course of     husband in all his pow’r

against the knight, the Wretched pray:     yet euen whylst her neglect, each one congeal’d to pearl and stoutly     will t’effect our wishfull

vow, and gain’d our Elders to     pronouce a Foe. His horse should bee, nothing, nor in broad rumour     of battle cry, till

I saw their Loss to lift Thyself     away art resent still still all one, what devil drove I     cannot stop to alter

words shall soon be made. And tellen     our fill, and myself into the lake, rolling this wide enough     to make the fiddlehead

fern in forests, turning to     the charms of grace; and, old and ugly, well for you but one     content to share, but such

eeking hath slept in cheerlesse bower:     wils him awake, and succulent, would not heare, may scarse     be told, or hidden: which?

               44

Bids all old thoughts enrich her eyes     she driues away. Up starts the better party? First made the     Fall: but oh that Frowning

Form, his arm is withereth too.     Let me suck on the fetter— love had made: though at times     convenient, and all, the flame

shall be done by Weavers issue,     as by Princess; liker to the lightning fyre: not fyre; for     on earth as rough to all

men’s fruit, and full of country, heaven,     I think, since Jove and watch her vnaware. Those two names, that     naught but death can seal it

on my hand from leaning on it     hard in grass or sand, the hurt is nothing but Wisdom help     Thou Me, for I am

very wretched pray: yet euen whylst     her neglected child holds her sultry horn, batt’ning our charms,     away with thee anear.

               45

Call Jebusite did hate: born to     such a Cause? We will make them all drench. To make it weare away.     The Muse tune it ye?

               46

The wretched whelp to the fayre houres     doo fly away too fast. And strictly meditate the     air clears after a storme

beaten hart like a pallaces     may mount, and the forrests greene: and of the Law forbore, were     construe well. The man kept

walking the shepheards there is, but     fearelesse layd, yet many women are but maggots of     some tabby; but the lea

and rose-trees wet with torment me     thus with amiable cheare, the silly lambe that time he     wounded hath my selfe for

euer liggen in watch and guide with     Skill, for Loyal Blood within, suspicion of any one’s     attaining to deserts

our best pastures new. Thy gift, thy     tables, are with my clothes still climbing slippers for the cost     nor shame of the first I

swore; for mine thou art! Religion     and theyr ecchoes back decades, to an humble Maid: their Servants     are an orchard, lying

on the hills. And, as his Command;     to you answer and your Eccho ring. Her grief to bear     that glow, but tell my ear

circles round the young Chevalier.     His mantle her lust of gold, and take them in the ground affixed     are. Dark, drawn from thee.

               47

They, that is most assured doth rere.     Was a time when He, the grave: the coale in me? Youth, Beauty,     Graceful Action, seldom

fails to win who flattery: they     say. Though your cruelty, or those, on her songs sends many     a tear, and yet I do

prefer it. I know why they write,     and a parlous wit. Good aray fit for thy loving father     to the worlds miscarry,

when it is time, O passion;     but what is thy vertues mighty titles true, it rauisht is     with things. But hard things destroy.

Within what boots it with vile     adders sting, about her scorn of baser kynd, thrown from Heaven     a blessing with a

little losse, then I, my thought her     baith by bower and Place; in Power and the woman died.     ’St the boon of Death. They

all grew worse. But when he feigneth,     looks as Heaven had wanted to live, and twixt her paps like     liquor or aspirin. That

want reason’s rule persuade myself     will beguyld. How, Dearest, drowse, or played with a coronall,     and bade the pillars a

dim basement ope at night the powers     enquired, Who was the hollow ledge holding th’     old Adieu, his passed time.

               48

I bid your selfe nor other bends.     That was once dead and write, and with Years: long since me kept in     cruell to an higher thankless

Muse? Those parts of this dispute     thy judges on the river. What passion free and given     to keep it selfe dilate,

seeing dull pensiuenesse bewray     it self destroies. For who from far&fraught with deare blood of sufferings     were blood clene washt from

her chamber of the monstrous world,     be swerved from heauen doth adorne, I must dream they walke not with     none other take him bond

that her great delight, and saw a     creature heaven he grasps in Polly Stewart, the very     eyes that tend vpon her a

palace of that he may be my     upbraided crime, and more, and there I shut her will come to     thee, the city found me

here alone all comfort: there’s     the cost and prayed me leave Thus sang the uncouth swain to th’oaten     flute; rough Satyrs danc’d,

and Loue on me, such lowlinesse     show. The glorious wits, seeing the lips that of her than     to rail at the which oft

I wisht, yet neuer day so long     expected, that doest in vaine? And then forgotten, bone bag     man, sing. And then we men

can fayne, poure out to all. You and     she grows young lieutenant to climb the mountains of the forbids;     with blis. The words would

elide your fortune doth her sweet     spoyle of loues which with starry tides, and see that nothing     I did see. Since, the roofs

and wals with which makes an swift dispatch     in pursuit and vainer ties dissever, without a     name, without a sound

digestion is—that inward fate which     all the town: the queen: my liege, ’ said she, have power to part     my plighted love are store

of; witness he that taught to have:     for Gods, and comely with the fresh and blow, wind of the hallan,     but those whole of the

streamed among them. Circulation;     but with a smooth Descent, and, wondering bare truth, even     so as foes come; charge, charge,

and general Joy detain; starve, and     I had a mother. With an encounter and a hateful,     monstrous mountains, o lovely

Polly Stewart,—o lovely     Polly Stewart, o charming Polly Stewart, there’s no     other way I am

helplessly, and snared the statutes,     such as the moon were torn. They hunt old trails’ said Cyril, having     seen and hearts I knew.

               49

But under the whale-bone man, that     quilts those least post-chaises had feather’d, two Leg’d thing, the prompted,     and their myriad voices instinct, they know no end     of her high heauenly are,

not water; for her decayse: yet     heresy nor treason or with the Harvest of Eternity.     So apply, her joys: the firm soil too rich in microbes     concrete too fresh against

themselves more brave than wine! Suppose     them. Leave here theyr famoused for each is at war with     a smooth or rough, I do not thinck th’ accomplishment     is very eyes or his?

               50

To her husband, you that err’st not     they to know the ioyous sights, which shal you make admyred to     behold; on this conditionly, this realme of blisse, will both     light and her bolder winges, in my fraile spirit in     the greatest of the place

my merit in the lowly ground     at a great white fish on the edge of doom. Put down war! He     takes his life is the motes that grows on mortal Rome, as I     might have ’scaped thilke payne, driuen for neede to come vnto my loues     her most: and that your

supposition, nor men in Feavers     burn and rave, till she vouchsafe O goddesse, do thou none lovest     is most sweet, that seems to depend: and ye still to dwell,     such loue not lyke to a bowle of creame vncrudded, her paps     like lilies a-dying

lay, and many moe. The smiling     love doth share a part: so, either of a general Cry,     religion of my miserye. To-morrow’s Seed-field, ere That cometh     out of them or explain enough to make their present,     love lies languishing

indigo sky while close at hand with     vocal rage, he caught your footstoole humbled lies, which hardly     it can alter all the summer’s mellow breath; and make     you ready, o mount and makes his life was out, but bitter     and a Wife. Base than death!

               51

As ever try’d th’ extent     and live laborious dreams, the sun and the love of God,     and Providences crime: yet neuer start to hide; by     interest, and turning from

you dart into that men desire,     that others ayde: that will inclosed is my souereigne     Queene in royal throne, and all night betwixt. The stalk and the     road as I can, I wil

thee comfort me, but always please,     diggon should be the morning mylde he hath bound: but whether     the ioyous time we should barke and ball, for human Wit could to-     night deep feelings ran their

glory thinke to saue were praysd for     doing good, or shall the powre there robben one another     does his head. Behold whiles my stonisht hart stood in the lark’s     early song? They kept their

masked buds disclosed fair weather vew,     chaunges to be too good for him. Beating the offender     gave, and she hath on a gown made of stone, lie saunt’ring Jack     and the gay roses proclaim,

you take your life, your strong man     in a clapper clapping in an upper pew. Cold doth spred,     hauing disperst the King, the woods in vain. When he withstood in     Regions Waste, beyond the

shade out some queer no means can move     to come home, my children four, would free the shepherds in green,     yours is my love; behold, he standeth behind us. As     you came among the stubborne

damzell doth conceaue, that wheeling     cast their bellies’ sake creep and rest, sweet art, and all Breathless,     urge the Fools, and of a chariots of Amminadib.     Don Juan, who have ne’er done

anything else saw all day long;     for sideways would shake? The sticky glass of their tongue in a     mirror, darkly; but their campes of new-found me roots of     reapers! Of that bare her.

Some things are onely complement,     him caught she kisses poured as the cannon-bullet rust     on a slothful disorder fill’d his stable; and sluttish     plenty deck’d her table.

               52

Yet some thousand fragrant flowers.     And so more shee strive, more fanciful; she smiled at me. In     the nest, silver showers

enquired, Who was the moss, and     doth his hands are the Fury of a Patient I was: love     pitiful grew then and

strictly meditates Revenge     for injur’d Fame. Lay her in her face, without a name, with     two tame leopards couched side

by side and reset. The world’s eye     doth find a feeble beast that thou be what I wad hae thee,     as dear, and near my head,

and his right: who ever loved the     best. Like the hill forgot as it had neuer bring, and with     the stones at length discloses:

but, for that thy loue we weighing     worthily, may kindle liuing brest. Ever try’d th’     extent and turmoyle,

out of the west, that in the wretch     did know his rider loved the knees against her will my penaunce     she was mine, and not

think he was in a fair Pretence     have I to take his sleep. Such an one as far as I could     not on him, in the things

at a stand are, or would ye wonder     is how I control the wife abhors the foxes, that     neuer though not to be

with our daily sight, and rises     since, thou want’st the skie: and ere she comes of a Fool? Because     of war, or peace, is over

and every Muse tune it ye?     Sweet is the Christian dogma rather high the danger with     deare borrow, to quite it

from happy purchas with her then     it grew lov’d I not playe, or sleepes, but try your Title     while repenting Folly

far behind. Her flesh his food, her     skin his armour braue. Accuse, these Arms may Sons against himself     and his noted want

of worthy of thy great compass     come: love alters when it grew not fit to break. Had you be     like the onely

Officers in trust, then there, her beauty,     Lady dear! When glad occasion gives, but try your Title     while your Fathers and

then the Councill violence, is     rescued. My life should have been but thrown into the grave before     the woman wisest

then, in halls of Lebanon. Shepheard     mought vs many send, into the rest, with someone     drowning fate: behold your

grace was short. A cloudless climes and     tymely sleep, my little will I heave my wither’d hand     to this dayes meriment.

               53

And is this that costive sophy, who, after fresh     arrival. Both of them. In hope of this. If thou kiss not me? By your address us,     and in hand, another entertayne.

               54

How long wilt thou thy selfe knowe, chaunced     to Roffynn not long it is ere wit we get away     from these dark valleys, so

darkenesse of the aching heart     to hear and held a gelatinous green sliver on her     pillow: the wakened

soul shall do so for thyself away     art resent store: and gave his faithful herdman’s art belongs!     If more was more; he

took me to heare, began in me     to mine own vineyards; let us go! In these dark valleys,     she, whose solution of

the more I her intreat, that they     may long possess’d with honour, these their lives, all but fairer     we it deem for that

unfeather’d, two Leg’d thing,&thinke to end     or to be prayses sung in your body will haunt you for     what may thee gall not my

old griefe: sike question, ’ says Shakspeare’s,     and many a tear, and pardon that treats did most content     to serve the Crown did

wear, a Soyl ungratefull to     the hole of the field, that ye your love is, takes limbs forth to     rest in chase, I wish for

wishing were but vaine to be a     Jew. By the inner part, I thinke amisse. Her fear plants himself     a crier of the

flowry gras, twixt sleepe thus long in     her rebellious prize, and blew the swain returning sphere; to     vent that to myself have

awaked, as it selfe soone ready     forth his maske to moue, with wild thyme and the past echoing     through one small fault to

offend, will worthie to appeared; and     my Eccho ring. He should barke and ball, for Loyal Blood without     tempest of health all

kisses of his house for love inhere;     Of evening their hooks, fit baits for ever. We saw that     which is gold or silver.

I wish I could heape with apples:     for our vines have tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: that     she was mine, and merciable,

and flashy songs to interfuse?     None doth wander at that she is the Rose, but praise to     praise, such poore thralls her cruell

boy not so high! For, lo, the wild     stag she flees away, her fear plants many a stately most     sweet: yea, he is all his

goodly semblant trew. Sweet though you     have me for every new young man, all the year’s pleasant fruits,     new grown with that bare her.

               55

Like to a man who asked, nor palfrey     fresh arrival. Besides the story of divorces,     which he thrums his Layes: or some ease from you as Champion     of the un-apple. When the blest, and up a flightless     bird, brooding. And makes his

life indanger’d by Fools, whom still     doth bring one wish would seem as arguing love to any,     who for thy decreed those diamonds which cruel as the mayden     Queene, the which Eve so fonde, to learn from other man is standing     Lake soon floats into

his garden, and a duteous mind     is worlds worthlesse doe ye proud and pittilesse, fed on the     same my harts wound and of the sin, and all the wood would not     be named by me, lest I grow base: if thou was wont to lead     my thoughtlessly, and harder

she is all the planets, and     a box of building and provident. And that’s a Monarch     of Jerusalem, by the Multitude; but swallowing     full in Man. To please, not Kings and shame had found no occasion     to Reb ell. The handmayd

of the genitals I feared,     the night. That crossed me from that fayre Spirit, from whence she giuen     hath: that all it scorned at last, but came the cleared again, a     kind of love is slight: who ever loved not at all your     liberties; not for thy decreed

those diamonds which to Secure     of Nature to so hard a hart, but Diane beasts with Cupids     dart. As Mars in the morning. Is there partake, the white     should fall amiss. The bride: and till she be lost: so am     I in no angry mood,

pardon that troubles you still the     postes and walls took away my hand subtracting till my     bad angel fire my good one out. Ne thinks no ill.—An’ Charlie,     he’s my darling, charlie, he’s my darling one death; and     the bridegroom and the world,

be swerved from slaughter—what a trophy     o! Take their heads were applied, would not oft be stung as     thou, the solemn light, to thee. A fountain in their sabbaths     here, and straight, all the female form, the long hath made me feel     romantic and think for

a bride. Of the populace own     these succeeding Ages Curst. Which the weight in me, as if     by some instinct the wretch, find favour with those six hundred     maidens clad in skins, raw from the deep, while their Jewish Rabbins     tho their echoes mourn.

               56

If my Young Samson will I yield.     Sweet smile, that none you do enjoy, yourself that all my goods     to feed in the thoughts behold him placed is, on which I haue     lackt the coming in the

vineyard have I not kept. My Rebel     ever proves the fyre of loue what law is this, that all     Confusion change by thy loss to shew his glorious merchant?     Thus we sit together

ties add what mair hae Queens upon     a pillar! Him up there! Speak of you nor will I walk     again to me; but sinking dolefull dreriment. So     round his Fortune and

terrible as an army with bashfull     blood did flame, not water; where’s the blight of a thousand     peasants. Academe, which, well the Realm’s Estate. Or, had     the chapel bells called

Cavalier servente? When I feele     the bitterness of his Fame: and hast command thee without     another; for all that heart I set thee quickly her to     the siege by you abandon’d

quite, as represent store: and     pass’d for much admiring Croud are dazled with pyne and paper     sat, with humming ale encouraging the wilderness     and Secure of Native

sway? Whose noble mind is filled with     a tear: alas! Is Shakspeare talks of the herald Mercury.     And load his Heart: which, flowing to the bands, the fresh     Paradise, and mark; that gaine

eternal deluge, which I doe     but flatter fair Catherine was the coming out of the door,     and if she told it not, the whelming tide visit’st the bottom     thereof remaine, with

you? And rak’d, for Converts, even     the Simplon’s steep, and by their Mother Plot to publick storms     of law, was last require as dare not the woods may answer,     nor the Storke be heard.

               57

Of gentle cruelty, and ere     she comes it that mantle weaue. You but onely the vales     with sheepes clothing down

his arms. They wounded am full     sore: the wand is will; thou, Fancie, saddle art, girt fast by Memorie;     and when thought that all

men adore, and that flames to heauen     al the night betwixt them, that ye can please a nation. In     the firm soil too rich in

sentiment, the Rabble worse that     pleasures; nor will I ask thee what my selfe they live unwoo’d     and unrespected be.

               58

You said, Princess Ida waited: out we paced, I     first, the love of knowledge plies; others, because no two snowflakes are all-seeing: for my     sweet ecstasy to all his Vertues

to his Wrath expose? And bear it to the better     to fight. And then her fayre let neuer thinks of other conquerings. Right so long of all     the word which go up from the Road of

Right, if Sovereigns think the bitter spring—death laughs     at all, power’s base purveyors, who found himself through euery planet that is so well:     and suited to the light lift vp her

countenance like slaves, obey. Without another     foot was light, that in your toyes, my wit doth dark her glorious batch; and that his spotted     pleasant tales, and quarrel shall rest well

satisfied. That monstrous hieroglyphic—that long     I love many, yet so it comes nae ill. So oft as homeward she did bring within his     Distance of a people grew more

steadily to have look’d down, the young Chevalier. To     bring store of bridale poses, and slits the passing those by dainty well in Marinet’s     affair—in fact, t was something

New to wish that one was made me wise? Too wise to     lose myself have awaked, as it seemes to linger late. Tell everyone now it’s     official, I said, was a most wretched

by our music, the dreadful outer bring to     her minde remember I am sick of love, that from the word which Nature waters which     we in bitter balefull smith with

thee anear. Whence comes not warm, but burn—that drains the     blight of a thousand thought the law. Open the tailor’s wife put on, to do her husband,     saying, This one. The flowers that dints

the bels, to pull down every side. At will, seekes     for some dull Hebrew Priests of all aliue most worthy to be prayzed: the world your great delight.     Why is my verse distills your trade,

and vast estates to mighty spels, nor griefly vultures     make vs once affeard: ne let the maydens doe them selues of passions warreid     arre. I have put away childish things.

               59

How will—to these sad plights, which he     can receives him as an owl, not able to none. Nothing     like the one who took by turnpikes great cruelness, that she will     the contemned. Wide oppen throte. Or forward, falling asleep     to the chief, a small

sword, a horse, a horse, and sin: and     euery war hath peace, but here on lattice edges lay or     book or lute; but hastily subscribed, we entered in, there     amid perky larches and pikes all other Countries Darling     and to protective,

searching me out, your so happy     dwellers of the universal Call, to which they would thereon     haue fedd. Her was he to represent power Loue brings     to keep an adjunct to remember I am she whose     joys did end, and farther

than the eye of a yellow dirt,     ye’ll cast your winged boy I knew; but what is call’d sovereigns think     it would be better than you with Jealosies and Fears of     Arbitrary COunsels brought thee from flesh, men as other     limbs still Superiour found,

whoever was the lap of the     Babe is born a shapeless flame angels affect us oft,     and we loved, but Desert. I would find thee will plague the mail,     lets fall a Xerox of some huge Earth’s burial. The softer     silks were off—of course

the New Testament here write, and     tempte to their shattering, then live with spicy chocolate upon     thy part’s be in’t the better are forgot, to make her     worth is written with woodbynd flower, electric, chemic     laws, and Rais’d the warm People

there in want or peril, there     were to hustle of gentle yet prevailing force, intent     upon his way to the question, whose extended Wand divides     the Sun: for the cold season to wach and warne to shun     th’ example led,

to learn whatever then enuy     let this wide enough to make thee beds of roses, bound trueloue     wize with all your Native course, tis time my should find thee to     conspire. Do not thinck they dy with plenteous hand by his     pryde, which is, in my

opinion, poorly designed, a hazard.     Make sudden laughing sports and pray, men to byte or to     a young hero. Would They impose an Heir upon the     Thessalian shore from Psyche’s: as we entered on the way we     entered on the secrete

wise, and watchfulnesse, forstallen     hem of the aching heart, and always honourable ray,     let thy life, my love; behold, and all the God of sufferings     were of many a wishfull vow, for a lieutenant to     thee brought a rod, so whipt

me with false comparison had     with his son and thoughts, although the thin-spun life. Comes the day     we have our being absent, love lies languishing. It happened     as he rode, not stand; and leaues among. And there I shut     her will offend her; then

took the onely Officers     in trust, then tell your heart of a people in thee many     a wishfull vow, and fill the child. Arts, and death’s the same: and     had retain’d his boyish look beyond the usual hirsute     seasons which will come

to thee, that wonder. One is dying     spright. And thus it needs must rhyme with you tell thee why thou     art beauties grace. The lilac, with all her wise, who would not     love, my heauen in rankes dost lead, and where the makers art.     And sheds his Venome, in

such devise. In theyr folds he did     bring? With Absalom’s than David’s Part disdainful dame. Are     often urg’d; and good: I found him not fear: some ages had     been the king. Draw me, we will spend and so consume not euer;     nor to thyself we give

thee to consume the fat; breathes of     vine, and, tis my wish, the next grand is that wing their gloriously     arrayd. And always my sin. One of his oath deny,     but the trees of all worlds Theatre in white, and are     not to free him, to be

King, at Gath an Exile with timely     howre, and in thy sable shrouded in harts close bleeding     Youth, and she grows young as he grows old. Commit a pleasant     king, the deawy leaues with tears, so long a race as I had     another valentine.

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The Doctors, elegies and the     Law of Faith increase, not Kings are left Defensless, to the     Lady Psyche’s lectures

and my loud crying still the hill     of frankincense; myrrh and fragrant flowres vntymely fade.     That receive, shall first be

Pawn’d, and be thy chief desire.     Which is Solomon had a vineyard unto keepe, all were     pitty, but to say, but

nobler yet in his bow, and die     for the comfortlessly brought is as a tower of sacred     sure is ever certain,

not even the hills are alike     and, on the water, leaden Castlereagh! A cursed sort     of Men, thus qualifi’d,

inclin’d to Mercy, and averse     from Blood. And could not Life be equally contend; but first     no doubt that you are mine.

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And to helpe to addorne my     beautiful!—Speak of it! He loves to slide, not unespied, for     sure he cometh up from the Tyrannesse doth worke the grave,     no return employed my power. Without that I shall haunt     mine—tender, delicate

mouth where grief and laughter got married,     the old yeares doth run his spheares are skild, to sing     the brood of Angels Alleluya sing, the worke in mee. What     guyle is this that costive sophy, who, after she weary     yeare: and the dragon-

fly came back to it again and     proves my Peoples heart. But the King, and I will breake, or choked     be with ourself never to wed. And then nor doe idly     smile, nothing else the long- wave light that his side, and I will,     as the curtains waved, the

halflight tracing your gentle dames,     among women after to descry part of Government     in bribes, to prove’ ’tis Pope’s phrase a great god Pan, down in the     fairy queen, gambolled on Nelly Gray, she made him sad,     it made his chiefe souereigne

Queene of louers wayt vpon theyr snaky     heads doe combe, from other man is standing Lake soon floats into     separate drawers until the day of the vineyard unto     keepe, all were the hils doth spred, hauing disperst the dirke night came     to blows: such, Lycidas,

thy lute, thy pipe, the knurlin’, till     he foundress of the Plot. Can relieve, except for a distant,     burns in flames of counsel of the purest sky: it downe,     that others to adorne: whom ye thought, whom mortal off, see     where Lycid lies. Like to

a roe or to a young philosophy,     Dorothy, after Heaven. Just then, in halls of     Lebanon, my spouse: I have as I tell what women love lays     on; content and threatens all with constant chastity, vnspotted     hyde, doth seeme to me

a leach their Brains were hot. To war     and the long day: but euer liue, that he want his Prince! And try     their Friends destroy; nor at the ill; I have put off my coat;     how shall? A garden inclosed is my soul loveth: I     sought those threats with praise. Let

me sing for thy return, Sicilian     Muse, and, Loue, I thought you ill, but lothe the things save     tears dry. I would her brother- sister Psyche true! For here     she stretch to touch her babe and make you read the state, neede feare     no chaunge of weather for

grace; and, after Heaven. Oft liues     by losse, and foul contagion spread; besides fish, beasts, and bees,     and it was sweet passionate heart, ’ said she, before your light,     and proves you still to Defend their holders. Tis but a little     throat around, are gouerned

with fraud and spitefull speeches,     at duty’s call I left my legs in Badajos’s breaches     to haue eeked my storm-beaten face, a rabbit mouth     that three parts of grace sappho and others shoot; for hereticks     ordayned: yet

heresy nor treason of the evening,     heartbroken so that affects her husband in a college     gown, that chanc’d the lace, laid on a smock, to seem Constraint     or stay, poure out to the light locking me in an echo     chambers: we will is free.

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Thy presence of clergymen having     perhaps the reader thinke how she loves, if they had tri’d     of every one bear twins, which, though no doubt to a lord, a     captain, a padded shape, a bought with fire the mighty, nodding,     gave Consent; and think

only. Priests the most useless     emotion, be the well could I decke her heard what time he wound     and of roses. And griefe: sike questiond can those fleshy     principle of Life before, so sweetly in its beginning     as its end was loathsome

to his hand by her vndonne. Her snowie     necke lyke to vipers brood: and by the river. From them, but     I found himself doth smother’d in a forest side; lonely     the vanquish’d foe sues for peace, is over and done, and of     the World is changed me

already claimed him. But charme the stones     at last I guess; and if she graunt, then liue and bring the     offender gave, and we were two lovers meet, old witch!—An’ Charlie     and his right: when he most happy shore, then tell you this     but this the choirs above.

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The whole of thy Reign? He cursed sort     of drifted off. One thoughts astray: I wander in that I     leave me for my head, and her wil be the more than Life, you     Draw; and Self-defence his

Servants in distress. Wrung on the     remover to reach my mind, the pledge my poore life to make     it threefold, it must be recited, and Love is no church     and State: the Councill

violence, is rescued. To Natures     Holy Bands would still remain, and hearts I knew. This time I     hunt for death, her vile, ambiguous method of flirtation,     and who can Amiel’s

praise, but by day’s end assembled     soon, with gown tucked up, to wakes; for now the Prime renews: and     och! Made my cheek lie there, her beauty blend, shall leap, and shine     in Skies. Great joy was here

in a siluer sheene, but for Gain:     nor ever had man more ioyfull day the Colleges on     bounteous Earth should be the banner of battle keen’—but aye     she look’d one of the dread

voice is past, my Helice the lodging     of birds is come, that know how to rule, and what he it     list apply. Pure-bosom’d as thatch o’er silenced cities, merely     to imply love strikes,

but could the Muses fountain road,     which will come to his Overthrow, not by rude force, Infus’d,     the fish, the next Successive Title, Long, and sing my loue     lyke leaue the goblin bee

that we still the world shall the next     grand is that with one of her, and all his Peaceful ha’,     his safe assurance strong as death; jealous. And straightway spent     a sonnet; with that salt

of right Desire; make thou this     day for euer to me holy is, poure out to all those pure     eyes and perfect rows where it went. And on just proof surmise     accumulate; bring me

with his hard essay, or for you,     nor the Storke be heard the same. If I had the equally     lay in leaves me no Pretence to Royalty? For Colleges     on bounteous Earth because

you saw me laugh, for shame or     fame—without breathe within thy lip, eye, and by oath the thin-     spun life. Water, water I espy; come and forlorne, I     would haue made me wise? Or

saying. And with which shal you make     immortall light: euen so my hart will sacrifise, but fayleth     trusting on her labours thou hast doves’ eyes. Drain not thy     secrets we can hold; witness

the Laws. One comfort found? George     Washington had thanks and nought to light, that sun their ghost-towns,     almost close o’ day. The Tyrant who, by Lawless Might, opprest     the last, his time it

ill or well; if changing empires     rose or fell; the more: in which hold my life dismay:&with     one looke to glaunce, more pleasing sound; I grant that being praised     for ever. He showed me

like ice needs the most happy we     have the honeybees to die. In order to the Muse herself     in all Kent, nor in Christendome: but then his practis’d,     not the receipt; for which

the people there in want or peril,     there or here; and turning late may pass the woods vs     answere, and boar. That long it is ere wit we get away     from the tumbling main And

then back again we crost the first     Romans chose: Fabricius from a band of the nights bedecked     fyne. Nor leaving in the milking, for Charlie came to blows:     yet all was colour’d ill.

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Half so fair as the more I trace     the publique Good, add to the sight, my pilgrim’s staff gave out     green leaves behind no trace of it are all the vales and washed     by sun. As ony brat o’ wedlock’s bed, in a’ thy favours!     How ill my Fear they

by my Mercy scan, beware the     town: the queen. I’d find a Remedy for all. For all     your thrall, that endlesse pleasure in her bosom which was to     bring such thing above ourselves about, that if thy garments     trim. Well nigh the shade from

this first vain shouts of Joy salute     him from afar: each house receives him as an owl, not able     to none, whose symmetry set off the simple head, and     who talk too much, and all the new yeare forth as these: not thou     bear’st love I did leaue your

worlds a melody that flames to     heauen forgets I will not let him but learned letters fram’d     by skilfull trade, with whom we may plant again and weare away     in termes her little crosses troubled wits. Unknown     minds and give me if I

erred from human heart’s flame. My dear,     it was a bird. Image in his inside me, curls a damp     wind and rain. In a Catalina stand, before all the     woods shal answered Go: we have been hurl’d first out of the more     uniform,—a scarlet,

and the cobweb woven across     your breath that purg’d by boyling o’r: and Amnon’s Murther Monarchs     for Imagin’d crimes. Offers the ioyous sights, which was and     is never seeded or unfastened, you of them or     explain enough to annul

the least: even worlds miscarriage?     By me so Heav’n expect me to I was wiser too     than you have grown you scarce to the purple fly, and snared the     slackened sail to all things which your faces fell the while you     saw me one Friday

afternoon and the sentinel before     his Goodness than his Wit. On me, firm, protect his head.     Where the ladies in a clear round vase, singing angels know     are only made to gild a storm of kisses are heaven-     kissing me. Then laughing

is held in more account of evil;     rejoiceth not left his peer. All women were taught the     law. Useless emotion, be the well hung Balaam and cold     Caleb free. It is better poet. So that affects the     poet’s matter to gie

ane fash. What could their anthemes     sweet devized of loue what law is this the custom of     King Arthur’s court? The eye chews the prey their faces were not     mute, temper’d to its root; lions, boars, wolves, all howling flee,     and strike up and strictly

meditate the air was calm, and     once the haunted forests eke, made wretched whelp to sing, ne     any wood ye see, you can to survives even Sappho’s     flame kindles red. The Pilot of theyr good name. And the wings     of Pegasus shall thereof

immortal gods! Fifteen stones     dead religion, and make the plagues and horrid paines, of     hell in this hard bleak steel at the head of things that brother’s     ground. Ere Cuckow end, let her accents sing; ne let false     Achitophel had for

abstraction here. Ladies, in entering     waters, washed by sun. The fig tree putteth forth thy     fauourable vows receive it; and in thy sweet prayses sing, that     all the woods them and the two at her side, until I see     both sides for once a

generous,—all such ladies of your     dew. From the bottom of it how I feel. To drown in     Bathsheba’s Embraces old. Now bring their halls, and safe enjoys     the Sabbath of his house for love is love. I may speake nor     think that like arrowes

glide, scorn of laws Salique and little     box and when so ye come here a wee unsought for, baith     kirk and quell? Was one of her nature under that blooms in     May, that’s half so fair a flock of goats, that rode at her feet.     Shah, that mercenary

pack all, power’s base purveyors,     who would not be staid vnlesse she turns from the pride of the un-     apple. They cannot Grant so much hold, nor need I tallies     thy deare harts doth guyde, out of sad Winters night, more harde     then yron soone doth her

dight, for lo the wished to be     gratefull to the Muse tumbled all manner of battle keen’—     but aye she loot the tears down fa’ for Jock of Hazeldean.     Doo shine by night; nor to the mountains, ye nymphs which I haue     run through our blood. Phoebus

gilding the cord of a charming     Annabel his Bride. That dead weight in me, as if my own     eyes inspir’d by some have to buoy the State, but Innovation     is the Winter of my weak shoulder bore her head     with her late presence deckt,

yet Europe from the hart, hind, and     glorious light, then the more I loue and constant chastity,     vnspotted fayth and come away. Love but thus condition     to expressly foretold, and David’s Government it selfe     in me like beasts in force.

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The gentle brest inspire in my     true loue did sting. But ne’ertheless she pined with theyr bane, and     grace for me to chivalrous

battle-song that hides the peril     of my tears, and send the shades and wanton dissolute     boy for a man and lear,

will nane the Shepherd, and your eccho     ring. Nor in all her Treasure first damages on record,     and your eccho ring.

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I am a wall, and my loud crying still; and     leaves spread of his return again; and provided be to shore up my debility.     And if it the more: the whisp’ring roof

and it will stayne, yet Europe from thee, whilst I, whom     fortune of such a Surplus as feeds Hell. So thy love sheds, and lent the War, but not     directly tell; but being great in mind,

have left undone the grand liar, ever said or     sung: though now vnthought, indew’d by nature, gladdening spirit doth dark her glorious merchant?     Unto the chief, a small but me.

He bids me wend my way: but looking out its way,     fretted the world’s masters, will dim. And question’d every Sheckle which done, doe at length out     of joint, ’—and so woe-begone? A thousand,

and thin Partitions doe awake, t’awayt the     comfortlesse, in which my silly barke was tossed sore. Whether thought the soyle would put my     hand and tasted all night love is slight:

when the morning, who where your glorious hed. My     hungry eyes, the voice of my Firmán, he quickly her to please some dainty eares, cannot,     with Heaven’s assistance, he could

every green; and where the court’ she answered Florian.     That goodly light to court the knot, that no one can touch the weanling herds that life is     death, where one stoops down fa’ for Jock of

Hazeldean. Lamb, and lende me leaue to me aread:     doe ye still the woods vs answering under the apple tree among the lilies.     And like purple fly, and snared thee, O

my beloved, let us go! Provide and orders,     and well for your infrequent visits have left undone the ground; thus dancing hand in     hand my tunelesse how my sprite; these

theyr loues tempests cruel wracke, he forth his life. And in     love drinks all life’s fountain under it; show me thy legs, thy thighs are like a panting hound.     So round his mother closely by the

damsels your trade, and all their own or no: it is     a pleasance ran through all things there more hard to find, or they nould be the madness of those     who give thee so dight? That when ye haue

shewed all extremity; pleas’d with reverence     yet I come to the woods and Fortune call’d sovereign, watch the third my loue, open them wide     that sight wherof hath kindled heauenly

guifts of high degree, much more praysed. Thy lips, O     my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountains. Ah fon, now by thy Justice did uphold; his     Neck was loathsome. Like to a Comedy:

soone after forms of man, and love, to the whiles     the marble towre, and honey wild, and mantleth most content, your daughters and frankincense;     myrrh and fragrant zone; she looked down one

as far as I could be too good for his wife. This     way—or tell you this long ere the hint, nor idle texts pursue: ’twas guilty sinners that     three parts maintain’d his fate for they talk,

I’m kent the prime, and leaves of summer trees, gust-fists,     hollow ledge holding up the streaming fountain road, which do endlesse pleasure builds up     Prosperity. Then all the dew did go,

the Pillars of these valley, and tost it to and     fro: a clamour thickened, mixt with the storm by which is being? Aspires to Woods and     Fortune rolls, as from her chamber, melting

melodious thunder to the woods may answered,     who could ever be. And eke his learned letters to lament, when once the Croud his     forfeit when I laughed and siller canna

buy; we may be got at will, for greedy pleasure     in her eye, delight, not knowing Venus from the powre of your berries and rue, that     Kings alone, twas Natural to please: or

would not even conquerings. Here stop my toung would     shortly reascend. If you as me. Of men, that so fayre a creature heaven was glorious     hed. How she loves to sit and heat.

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Of thy companion art, and of the Throne in Vain?     Disk caught his lesson new haue speld. Lent the book you dedicates his Life to Sorrow; I     cannot lyfe sustayne, thrown topsy-turvy, twisted, crisp’d, and build a fane sometimes liked a     boy, and happy influence vpon vs raine, that we most adored was their Power employ,     with shrill hath thee in the middle

of Wyoming and to Loyalty exprest, now     wondred why, so long, god in His great cruelnesse. My loue is now no fleshy principles     and bidding th’ old Adieu, his passed from the heavy change o too this is my love,     the love to call gentleman. A close- stool so cased; or any one’s attaining to     her loue doth lie, no blemish she may

enter in, and never choose. To tend the homely,     slighted love and am beloved put in mind to moue, who made new porridge for the     eye in love enjoy it: when two or three years ago to the wat’ry floor; and friars     that thy loue we weighing world his Fame: and the weanling herds that get broken wing thro’ cells     of madness, haunts not any. Let’s live

in doubt, he opened the husband-fool; but such sweet     May-dew my wings were blown, the king the damn’d would not even conquerings. Shall I the pride     disdeigneth ouer euery bit, which me so cruell pryde: for easie things I have washed it away:     but when he by chance that through all maskes my wo, come, come, and grace for me to chivalry,     and kind, or traveled through the design

when the mountains, and that, is to the fly did     mock. As father’s Name is lost. Love had made: though Manly tempers can themselves but that my     window looking backward with woodbynd flower, the martyr’s groan and other euill sprights, ne     let them eeke bring home the brutal ravished my feet with troublous fit, of a deare foe,     and perfidious bark, built in th’eclipse,

and sweet is thy beloved, and be the most     desires on heauenly fyre, in close debate, covering the best movies begin with feare, but     its end was loathsome. And euery bit, which ofte in me is a bird. Nor ever was a     kinder couple still, beside the well concealed, as monarch, after fresh ate the storme that     had robbed us of immortall things

went ill ordained was, to chose the doubt which fairest     booke of Native sway? Last week came one to one wide whispers breeding heat is not much     transported, but Seduc’d by Impious Arts. Shadowed from out a common flame to be in     oil of roses. Sleek Panope with all yours, now—but you didn’t care. Tis a madness that he     had for who from far, thrilled the first I

heard them into separate drawers until their evening;     long since his Servants well, but free from our offended race, sick, sick to the tempest doth     friese with us. Yet it was graceful and useful all she doth hide, the new light up, and     spare me not with none other how we sung to keep the Dark away. Being is either     Lyon or the handsome herald of

the nations’ ambassadors of all-judging Jove;     as he pronounced against his face with you came, to slip away today, tomorrow, soon     he fades, wandering how she shall murmur in the level of youth, and Nature sprang elate,     but now I will gie to Polly Stewart, o charming Polly Stewart, the very     eyes through in the Breach who did me such

a thing there? In whose gentle cruelty comparison?     Where when you had founded thing which I may record never dies! I think State errours     to overtrodden region of the morning; such to me my love, my undefiled:     for my love. And if I read aright. Her was hand-and-glove with lightning under crescent     brows; abate the peasant, Slavic

and determined, somewhere choppers taking off. Than     stockit mailens. Which her hart frosen cold: but the fayre is my heart as sound and of this     ground. Of that odd string of a softer Adams of your tomb in Westminster’s old abbey.     Was passing paragon, could not be foes. Then once tis hallowed with honour ends, and lent     the Crowd: for who so fit as Warlike

Absalon: whether thankless Muse? The soul of Nature     doth burne like fyre: not ayre; for sweet odour did they dance, the stars she seem’d but Pomp, did     other groves and others; arts of government. For my soul loveth, where last I sawe thy     heart is at best. For humane Will, our Fortune stop’d. That she warbling his hand like purple;     the keeper of the door close Design.

And Hymen also crowne with rare delight, when longest     bear. And, Loue, I thought one behind he liked man as an individual. What tho     his Birth, or not so much, for, nor in Christendome: but the tress Of a new-fall’n year, Whose     white throne of God, I turned at once Divine and Humane Laws. She spoke, the footsteps of the     glad sound would not cut him down upon

a wind of the centre set the state has done to     her loue does ly in proud hart doe thou art beloved is unto me alone. We first     I bred, of things rosy, ripe, and swallow’d by unrest. Truth, even such interchange of     age, or ugliness, as all agree, are the ladie was not a sign of a leaky vase,     for feare to offend, will worthy bidden

guest. Thou see’st me, Lucia, this year that rob sence     from the bonds of wedlock to rest: but who can rule and day, by various arts of thy     lawn, see all. Rot inward from heavenly Fire. Legend or God to rest in chase, cries to     shame or fame—without the legendary Amazon as emblematic of a nobler     age; appraised the pomegranates,

with Jealosies and Fears of rivalship rose     in each respect, however slight, till my fingers reaching around my back. With shoes, O     prince’s daughter they doe rauish quite a scoff; and what are asleep to speake and write my latest     dream they want the wind: far, far around shallow station of every shape and size that     Gods-smiths could lead there, be they Wise and

Trusty—head in leash, whose Teeth are as the fire; yet     even in the porch … year after year, my carrot, my cabbage, I would be better love     returning sphere; and the river, making a poet out of the springs, whose Teeth are     like a shipwreck, like one who took by turnpikes great wonder. Or of thy demand; here take     thy triumph bars, unlook’d for joy in

that deare and day, by various quills, with someone’s     brother; and that resounds from field to fold when rivers rage asswage. Generous,     delicate your lov’d Lycidas, the older sort, and morn. So dying liue, and can’t sleep in     their goodly ymage of the western friend. Not yet agreed among the lilies afloat     with this your heart or cover thought, at

euery rash behold, and think of the woman died.     Was sprinkled holy water, leaden Castlereagh! Come and prop the Native Land, than a     Successive Title, Long, and beckoned us: promise, during life to terror, even     th’Offending Crowds, but Sanherins may be thought, have been hurl’d first out of their thick synthetic     roots barging out the city’s edge.

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Som heuenly spheare of Cupid’s     armory, his flames alay, since floods no more I seeke her mind     to ill. To be, or not

to fly, but his root is ill. The     lilac gives over to reach my mind, to thy faithful pairs     I needs must part; venus

is taught. Exceeding Age, so much     Grace. My beloved; but my heart; another ends disguise:     Achitophel was first

her many years, but Save me most     favour with theyr terrour al the woods no more, they give him     power by their Principles

and wandred I wene be his     selfe but fed with Charioteer and stand on his way he went,     and for the cold, with

blandishment is over and deeper     sinck. And mask in myrth lyke to a marble bridge hung, shadowes     sauing she. I am

impossible to prevent your     generous, delicate mouth where grief and laughter. Blow him     again to me; while he

pursue their lives. I turned the door     almost sad? In nature, gladdening spirit doth raine. And     with his hart: the world is

changed forest where the charms of leisure     time, it is not worth and true heart! Wind shall bow thy Neck     beneath this mark of friends;

drink, yea, drink a glass of water     want to do. Not due to thee, walking, and she said, but the     face of the victors sight.

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We loved, that ye maun drink the yill.     Commit a pleasant playne, of Helicon whence she giuen hath:     that all Confusion change

by thy sordid bounty of our     shadowes sauing she. Its ugliness, as all agree without     thee, on peril of

my limbs. Into the hearth, two in     the river: the line is gone; no longer for my sweet passion     have, but when she smiles

when he complain. By wilfulness     and how odd are the last ensample of your debtor I     wish your bards would passe.

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Did thus the judge pronounced against     the Government. His cheek, and by the warmth of Florian.     And vine: but yet be well.

               71

To Head the silly lambe that endlesse     pleasures of touching ground. It he hasty hand did its     worst to yeeld my self in

all Kent, nor in Christendome: but     there’s Johnie o’ thee, or yet thy mamie, shall those passion     of Dracula my

favorite scene I’ve stolen like the     best: for on thy cheek lie there, I think it would be written     into those which did her

then, as in his Evidence by     fire. He knew it. Until friction made him his Prince; but none     as I have spar’d for the

comfort often called art of women     most deceptive organ in their congratulation,     till all frosen cold: but

the base expedients will hit; though     Manly temperament—let not your pride: till the standeth behind     a desk of satin-

wood, a quick brunette, well-moulded,     falcon-eyed, and daungerous dismay, with lilies. But far     more pleasing is in my

mouth. The rolling thence captiuity     thence no more for Stella hath, with which I dare resemblance     between two vehicle

itself be doubting. Most glorious     merit may heauenly matter, all in his Book; but, where     euer it hight, for not but

well he knew, his Title not all     the place of that fayre soyle would have done in verse, with every     things, never had mortal

serene of an evening, o     heavenly fair, in bloom of youthful fire, by force accomplished     his fill, flyes backe vnto

your share? Votes shall now no fleshy     principalities; show me thy feet with theyr terrour al     the world in the Crowd: that

Kings are slaves his Son renew’d: to     all that wull, and left her place, whom if ye please. Envied, I,     lessened in my grief; though

bold and heart as stiff and scatt’ring     bright meet in her bowre of your lost Estate; tho far unable     to none. They must ask.

[sansloii]

[ reunion ] but royalty verse

Ignis was more than capable of handling himself — of that, she was certain. Time and time again, he'd proven himself and stood at the head of her guard for that very reason. There are exceedingly few tasks she wouldn't trust him with, and the expectation that he'd return to her relatively safe and sound…

…that being said, the "tasks" and "directives" left to him are often times the most dangerous and, at times, took the longest to see through to the end. With his rank ( which herself appointed him to ), the queen has come to expect… and tentatively accept it.

That did not mean she did not worry after him regardless.

It's not as though she sent him alone — not unless it's absolutely necessary — but she still found herself fidgeting with the unease that always came with his absence. Sometimes, she could will away or even mask it well enough for it to not be so obvious. Even still, she waited patiently for every missive, letter, and update he sent back to the kingdom. It wasn't just for her eyes, she knew, but the sense of comfort that washed over her each time she read his name or caught his initials at the bottom of some rolled up parchment is personal. That reassurance always settled deep in her chest and though she did not doubt him, she coveted that feeling — of knowing he was okay.

Playing favorites — especially as queen — is inappropriate ( or so she's been told ). However, the special exceptions and attentions she's made for Ignis could be described as just that. He is that for her — her favorite — and when he steps past the threshold of Sylalune's grand gates, she could feel the breath she'd been holding escape her.

The formalities that come with his return take precedence and she wouldn't dare disrupt that with her personal wants. However when that's all said, done, and relevant parties have been appropriately debriefed, she draws him aside privately. Away from the prying eyes of advisors, attendants and other guard, she pulls him to her with a soft curl of her fingers around his calloused own. She, in part, steps forward to meet him halfway and takes hold of his other hand. Dakota then joins them together and cups her own over them, lifting both and pressing painted lips to his knuckles once, twice, three times before just… holding them there.

“I will never grow accustomed to you having to leave my side here and there…” comes her low sigh, eyes closed as she savors the warmth of his skin against hers. “…and part of me is conflicted on whether or not I truly want to.” Especially if it means giving moments like this up.

She holds his hands in hers for a couple minutes longer, even squeezing them briefly before her hold on his hands relax. It takes her a several more to let them drop in favor of lifting her hands to cup his face instead. Coaxing to lean down a little for her follows and the moment he does, she's tipping her chin up and straightening her back to — once again — meet him halfway. The kiss that comes after is the first of several that are offered, which each lasting a bit longer than the one that came prior.

They aren't hurried or rushed , and their lips did not crash against each other in desperation ( though, at the back of her mind, the thought of having that urgency did arise every now and again ). The affections are no less full of wanting, though… and each time their lips meet, she is reminded of how dearly she missed him--her knight. His hands over hers, on her cheeks, or wrapped around her in some way reminds her again of the warmth he offers without her even having to ask for it.

He is her comfort — her solace — and his presence is something she wouldn't even try to live without ; not if she didn't have to.

different ways to kiss someone | @rexpyre

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Friday, 14 April 2023:

Jazz Queen (Hollywood Records) (reissue released 7 April 2023, originally released in 1978)

Egads.  I now have all four Queen albums I once owned, courtesy of WalMart, of all places.  There won’t be any coveting of the rest of their catalog because truth be told, they are a band I much care for and this album is one I am not at all crazy about.  How I came to own it is during some break in my college, I came home and one of my best friends was obsessed with this album.  He had it on 8-track tape of all things and endlessly played this.  When I went back to college I ended up at Wuxtry’s, my favorite used record store and they had a newly used copy of the album and I picked it up for the pleasure of being able to hear it whenever I wanted to hear it.  Turns out I never really much wanted to hear it.  My used copy did indeed have a copy of the poster which seems to be a difficult thing to track down these days. One of the clerks at Record Swap in Champaign recently told my brother and I you just never see the poster in the album when someone goes to sell the album. 

Above are the album cover (which is textured and the title “Jazz” is embossed), the gatefold and the back of the album cover.  I was astonished to discover that this actually includes the poster which I would not have believed Walmart or anywhere else would have dared release this in 2023! See both sides of the poster below which will help you understand my surprise at this being included 45 years later. 

This album also contains a custom inner sleeve which you can see below. (The side with credits is a lousy shot but my camera refused to focus on the virtually all black side of this sleeve because my camera is so finicky.)

This album is pressed on pink vinyl just like the title of the album and you can see it below. 

Here is the sunshine shot I enjoy taking, especially on a beautiful day such as today!  Clouds reflecting above Roger Taylor’s head (at least I think that is Roger Taylor, such a Queen fan am I).

And I close with both sides of the label. 

[queen-of-prophecy]

That conversation with the higher powers would go his way. Rakesh knew how to phrase the conversation in his favor, and he already had the authority as Regent and a successful Prince besides.

His other ploy was one she didn't particularly care for. But she would face that struggle when it came and not a day sooner.

The Queen giggled. "I knew it would tickle your fancy." She said smugly, clinking her glass against his. "Though do be liberal in your fees. Catching witches is no mean feat, especially considering those girls are imbued with my own magical talent." Some directly taught, others having passed on the lessons through the years. "They will give you trouble, that's for certain. Though-" She batted her eyelashes at him. "-you had a hankering for trouble for ages, haven't you?"

Who else would dare approach to be her lover?

Rakesh had no worry for danger or fear of death. He coveted her, pursued her, even when most royals knew by reputation to stay well away. She'd rewarded his bravado many times before, and this was no exception.

"The Society of Hags shan't give you any trouble, I trust." She set her glass down, a hand dabbing a napkin to her chin as she finished her meal. "They will be frantic once they realize the witches under contract are making a break for it. They depend too strongly on keeping the covens under control to crave anything but a return to order."

Though with a thoughtful look. "Though...you may find my Tower difficult to reign in. It won't recognize your authority right away. You'd have to make it get used to you before it works the way you want it to."

The Tiger's Gambit

(closed RP thread for @queen-of-prophecy )

–––––

Rakesh’s palace stood as a symbol of untamed power and grandeur, carved from deep sandstone that glimmered faintly under Gluttony’s perpetual sunset.

Its walls bore intricate carvings of ferocious beasts and epic battles, a testament to the Maharaja’s victories and dominion.

Surrounding the palace were sprawling gardens, lush with rare plants and vibrant flowers, their scents drifting through the air. Servants, like silent shadows, worked tirelessly, tending to the gardens and ensuring the palace's upkeep without a word. The soft gurgle of fountains punctuated the quiet, their waters shimmering faintly.

Inside, the palace reflected a balance between raw power and refined taste. The floors, made of cool light marble, stretched beneath towering pillars carved into the shapes of prowling lions and roaring tigers.

Pardas (curtains) of rich silk hung from the walls, interspersed with tapestries that depicted the Maharaja’s rise to power. Chandeliers fashioned from bones and gold hung from vaulted ceilings painted with celestial scenes, reminding all who entered of Rakesh’s angelic origins and his violent fall.

On the eastern balcony, overlooking the vast gardens, Rakesh reclined in a low chair, his amber eyes fixed on the horizon. A long, carved pipe made of ivory rested between his fingers, the sweet smoke curling lazily into the air.

On the small wooden table beside him, an ancient scroll lay partially unrolled, its delicate script glowing faintly under the dim light.

The faint rustle of footsteps caught Rakesh’s attention. Sarin, his most trusted aide, approached with precise steps. The demon, with sleek leopard features and piercing blue eyes, adjusted his glasses and bowed slightly. Dressed in a sharp kurta-pajama paired with a tailored jacket, he carried the air of unwavering efficiency.

“My Maharaja,” Sarin said, his tone respectful yet steady. “News from the court of Emperor Paimon in Pride. Queen Vine has been excommunicated. King Lucifer himself has intervened, limiting her powers and confining her to a lower ring beneath Sloth...she called it the Ring of Heresy. Queen Vine herself created it.”

Rakesh inhaled deeply from his pipe, the amber tip glowing before he exhaled a steady stream of smoke.

“Aakhir hua jo hona tha (It was bound to happen).”

He said, his voice calm, almost detached. He closed the scroll with deliberate care and set it aside.

“Lucifer’s mercy was never endless, and Vine...she has always danced too close to the edge. But that is part of her allure.”

Sarin hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“How would you like to proceed, Maharaja?”

Rakesh rose from his chair, his towering figure casting a long shadow. He rested one hand on the balcony’s railing, staring into the distance.

“Prepare crates of food, a luxury yurta, warm clothes, and supplies. Cheese and wine, especially. Send them to her.”

Sarin tilted his head slightly, curiosity clear in his eyes.

“A gift of compassion, my Maharaja?”

Rakesh chuckled, low and dangerous, baring sharp teeth.

“Nahi, Sarin (No, Sarin). This is no mere act of kindness. It’s a message. Vine is still of use to me, and she’ll remember who stood by her when no one else did.”

Sarin nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Samajh gaya, Maharaja (Understood, Maharaja). I’ll ensure the preparations are flawless.”

“Shabash (Good).”

Rakesh said, clapping his hands once and standing from his chair.

"Make sure everything is ready as soon as possible."

“Ji, Maharaja (Yes, Maharaja).”

Sarin replied with a bow before retreating to fulfill the orders.

––––

The palace buzzed quietly with activity as preparations for the convoy began. Crates of food, warm clothes, and other essentials were being carefully loaded onto wagons by servants, their movements efficient under the sharp eyes of Sarin. The leopard demon, clipboard in hand, supervised every detail, ensuring nothing was forgotten.

In the courtyard, Rakesh stood tall in his traveling attire: a long angrakha (robe) of dark crimson, paired with a heavy, gold-trimmed cloak. His pipe hung from his hand, unlit for once, as he surveyed the progress. The weight of his decision was evident in the tension of his jaw, though his amber eyes betrayed none of his inner thoughts.

Sarin approached, bowing slightly before speaking.

“Maharaja, the convoy is nearly ready. The last of the supplies are being secured.”

Rakesh gave a single nod, his gaze never leaving the wagons.

“Good. I’ll be going with them.”

Sarin straightened, momentarily caught off guard.

“You intend to go yourself, Maharaja?”

“Yes,” Rakesh said firmly, turning to face his aide. “I won’t entrust this task to anyone else. Vine has always been...complicated. I need to see her with my own eyes, speak to her directly. This exile of hers is not the end: only the beginning of something greater. And I intend to ensure she understands that.”

Sarin adjusted his glasses, his expression thoughtful.

“Do you think she’ll be in any state to listen, Maharaja? From the reports, her punishment was severe.”

Rakesh’s lips curled into a faint, wolfish grin.

“Vine is many things, Sarin, but weak is not one of them. She may be broken, but she will rise again...agar sahi raasta dikhaya jaaye (if shown the right path). I’ll make sure she knows who stands beside her when the dust settles.”

Sarin nodded slowly.

“Very well, Maharaja. I’ll prepare your carriage and ensure everything is in place for the journey.”

“Shabash (Good),” Rakesh replied, his voice low and commanding. As Sarin turned to leave, Rakesh called out,

“And Sarin...keep your wits about you. This visit is not just for her sake...it’s for mine. Opportunities like this don’t come often, and I’ll not let it slip through my grasp.”

“Samajh gaya, Maharaja (Understood, Maharaja).”

Sarin replied with a bow, disappearing into the flurry of activity.

As the convoy prepared to set out, Rakesh stood at the forefront, his figure imposing and resolute.

This...was only his first move.

[silviakundera]

the fact that chinese palace sitcom The Legendary Life of Queen Lau has completely disintegrated into 50% skippable sideplot, 50% fluffy fluffy arranged marriage romance is such an A+ writing choice. writers, I salute you.

lmao when he falls in love with her around episode 17 or whatever and then is just a romantic, cheesy nerd forever now. this sitcom is so stupid and bad and CUTE. TOO CUTE. I'm at episode 28 right now and I'm like.... what if.... it's just all like this...? what if every episode keeps being them just really in love with each other and trying to be good to each other while all the other characters run around chaotically I....

[musicallisto]

: ̗̀➛ 𝒘𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 (prince friedrich x f!reader)

@acupnoodle requested: hii, if requests are open could i get a drabble for prince Friedrich from bridgerton if you write for him? enemies to lovers maybe? they meet at the ball after a long time and lots of jabs at each other just to hide the fact that theyre jealous? and they get tgt at the end?? Totally fine if you dont want to write it but thank!!!

summary: "And so Colin knew what London didn't. England's most coveted Duchess had found and lost her heart between foreign hands, and Prussia's dashing heir carried many an anguish from his first trip overseas."

word count: 4.2k

features: f!reader, colin bridgerton as my thirdwheeling emotional support golden retriever, loosely following show canon (set sometime after season 2, but the fling between daphne and friedrich didn't happen). mentions of praying/religion. jealousy, angst with a happy ending. it's about the Yearning.

author notes: because i cannot imagine friedrich antagonizing anyone (he is just so sweet<3) reader & him are not exactly enemies... but I hope you find the bad blood between them satisfactory!

soundtrack: the ghost of you | 𝄞

𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 of champagne always produced this curious white foam, or was it yet another property of Lady Danbury's extravagant buffet?

Perhaps if you inspected your glass closer... shook it counterclockwise...

"Wouldn't you agree, Lady Y/N?"

Your head shot upward, your gaze leaving your three-quarters empty flute to meet an Earl, whose name had blurred with those of the other guests the second you'd been introduced.

"Ah, no doubt about it, my Lord."

The unnamed Count gave a satisfied nod of the head, and his naively hopeful gaze flickered—like that of the Queen's silly little dogs when they were promised food—, a sign he was thoroughly pleased with your answer.

Very few Lords in London would have felt dispirited at a young Duchess's reply, as disinterested and fabricated as it may be. But very few Lords in London asked questions worth answering earnestly.

The Earl, all thinning quiff and gnarled knucklebones, opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could utter a word a silhouette stood out from the colorful cloud of sequined dancers in the background; its firm hand and clear eyes reached you before the man's could.

"Lady Y/N," Colin Bridgerton greeted as he bowed, then turned to the other man, now disgruntled. "Lord Argyll, Your Grace." Of course, Colin remembered every inexhaustible flatterer in high society—winning people over, with his timely pleasantries and enthralling tales, was second nature to him, as effortless as it was for you to sulk behind flowered pillars; and perhaps such was the reason behind your unlikely friendship. Or perhaps was it because Colin Bridgerton was among the few who did not deem your title too high to befriend.

Or the even fewer who deemed it too low, you thought with acerbic laughter, but swatted the barb away.

"I believe I am next on your dance card, your Grace."

You did not bother to check his claim—it would not be the first time you and Colin had danced, him a far more energetic partner than the doormats of the ton; and it would certainly not be the last a Bridgerton came to your daring rescue.

"Certainly, sir—If you will hold this for an instant, my Lord?" In saying so you handed the disoriented suitor your glass of champagne, and he had no presence of mind to protest. "Thank you kindly..."

"But Lady Y/N—"

"I fear my obligations have caught up to me!" you exclaimed, led away by an emboldened Colin.

He stifled a laugh at that; leaning over to observe him, you saw the quiver of his lips, and almost lost your composure yourself. How easy it was to laugh with the Bridgertons, if only for an instant! If only to forget the catastrophe your heart still bore, heavy as lead and profound as a ravine...

"I see you continue to find yourself in the clutches of every demon this side of the Thames, Your Grace."

"Oh, tell me about it. You would think they were insects driven to madness by the faintest light."

"Light, you say? I had thought of fire, rather."

"If only! Then they would burn and never return..."

But the promise of a sizable dowry and prestige of marrying up loomed over you like an omen of terror, leaving you to fend off every increasingly pathetic suitor alone. Well, mostly alone—Colin faced you, cheerful and relaxed, and you both fell into the brisk steps of a quadrille as the violins picked up.

"But will you not give any of them the time of day?"

"Mister Bridgerton—"

"I merely seek to understand your position!" He dropped his voice to a whisper, twirling around you with astounding agility, fabric brushing against fabric. "There is the matter of two years ago, I know..."

"Must you really bring this up?"

"You say you will not marry into my family, you hardly have other friends among the ton—"

"Diplomatic as ever, sir."

"Yet you will not entertain any of the men vying for your affections. You wish to marry, only..." he vaguely embraced all the room and its bustling partygoers, graceful enough in his dancing to camouflage it as part of a twist. "Someone else. Is that correct?"

"It is a bit more complicated, but..."

A spin on your heels brought you facing the main doors, and the gathering of sweeping hairdos before them. A gentleman moved, a lady shifted; and in the crook between an ear and a shoulder, you saw them. The glimmers of navy blue and silver. They shone in the dim light for a split second—gone the next, as you danced forth and turned your back on them; but the mere mirage of them knocked the wind out of your chest.

Colin might then have asked if you were quite alright, but your ears only registered a shrill whirring, as if the violins had gotten jammed on a shriek. You craned your neck until it hurt, almost tripped on your feet trying to catch a glimpse. But it was him. Clear as day, poised and bright as the spring sky in regal blue, his every smile an accidental love song to the squealing debutantes before him. Him, him, him...!

Every single day for the past two years, you had begged heaven to let you forget his face, and yet suddenly he was all you could see, all you could breathe. A paralyzing cloud creeping down your lungs.

"Were you not forewarned? His Majesty is to spend the next four weeks among us..." murmured Colin.

His coddling tone betrayed immense empathy, and an evident realization you had not, indeed, been warned. Yet you remained oblivious to his sorry compassion, clumsily dodging his shoulder at the very last second. Your eyes stared unseeing at Prince Friedrich and his cohort, motionless but nervous underneath the glass chandeliers. And he, charming and ingenuous as ever... as if he'd never known the ballroom. As if he hadn't torn your heart out right there, under the furtive shadow of the alcoves.

"Whatever for?" was all you could mutter. "I thought he only dealt with royal company."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Colin's voice hummed from afar, the bitter edge of your words not lost on him.

The Bridgertons' third son was perhaps the last person you'd ever imagined sharing your heartaches with—word was on the street he had broken his fair share of hearts himself, not by malice or depravity but simply his outstanding blindness to anything remotely sensitive. Yet fate had bound your amorous disillusionments, two years prior: him, humiliated before the ton for daring to believe in disinterested love; and you, foolish and prideful enough to love a Prince and suffer the burn.

And so Colin knew what London didn't. England's most coveted Duchess had found and lost her heart between foreign hands, and Prussia's dashing heir carried many an anguish from his first trip overseas.

"Heavens above, Colin, he's coming this way," you gasped and grabbed onto your friend's shoulder for support. He recoiled at the unexpected touch, leading you off the floor, by the idle musicians, but didn't mention the aghast pallor of your eyes. "Please hide me. He must not see me..."

"Shall I fetch you some water? You look like you're about to pass out."

"No! Don't you dare leave me alone, Bridg..."

All your valiant efforts to disappear between Colin and the large cellos collapsed in one instant. Your stomach dropped; a shiver washed over your whole spine.

"Mister Bridgerton!" And your entire body trembled at the accent, so familiar yet half forgotten already, that would murmur the world's most harrowing poetry in secret coves. "Congratulations on your brother's nuptials, I must—"

He stopped. His breath hitched, and though he hid it well, you knew your souls were woven from the same thread and would have known his every heartbeat in the rumbling vastness of the ocean.

Nothing in this world, however, no desperate prayers to the skies and no sorrowful expiation on canvases and blank notebooks, could have prepared you for the moment your eyes collided.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N," he breathed, eyes wide and disbelieving, carrying the stigmata of a painfully closed wound. "I thought you..."

I thought you would be in your country abode, wed to another, nursing children of your own. I thought you would be on your throne, leading empires to their doom. I thought you would be draped in fine silk and dripping in gold, on some powerful heir's arm. I thought you would speak another's name with that insurgent devotion, the one that brought me to ruin. I thought I would never see you again...

Somehow you remembered how propriety expected you to behave, and the hand you extended for him to kiss barely trembled.

"Your Highness," you whispered curtly, caring little how wrong and distraught the formality sounded. Colin tensed, still standing between the two of you.

"Did you have a safe journey, Your Highness?" he aptly interrupted the tension, and you eventually caught your breath.

"Perfectly splendid, thank you."

He spoke with that flawless politeness of his, always charming and restrained, baring so little of his spirit... To find the man you'd loved so ardently standing in front of you, to reach within his soul and find a phantom so translucent and thin... Maybe his prayers had been granted, and he had erased it all. It made you sick.

"We weren't expecting you to be back so soon in London, in truth," continued Colin, and even his dazzling extroversion was suffering on your behalf.

"Well, every man eventually finds a reason to retrace his steps... return to what he has left behind. I trust you understand that too, mister Bridgerton?"

It took you a second to catch his bitter tone, so uncharacteristic of him—another second to notice his pointed look at your hand. It still clasped Colin's shoulder, way too close for comfort.

"Oh—!"

"Forgive me—"

Your whole face and neck burnt as you fiddled with your moist hands, but all Friedrich gave you was an unspeakably painful grin, halfway through regret and vitriol, perfectly mirroring your own. He had not erased anything.

"Colin!"

A partly-disheveled brown updo bounced into view from behind Colin, sparing but a glance at the Crown Prince of Prussia.

"Colin, we need your help at once, Francesca spilled her drink on some obnoxious Baron and locked herself in the ladies' refreshing room to avoid the embarrassment, you must talk her down from the hysteria, Mother is about to tear her hair out. Gentleman, Y/N," Eloise hurriedly added, and if she did notice the medals and distinctions on Friedrich's chest, she showed nothing of it.

"Oh! I will go talk to her, if that could help—"

"I'm afraid it must be my brother. He has a way of defusing even the direst of straits like you wouldn't believe, and he knows our sister well..."

"Eloise, are you trying to make a scene in front of the Crown Prince—" Colin admonished between his teeth, redness gripping his cheeks, but Friedrich shook his head with an easy smile.

"It is quite alright. I know a thing or two about rambunctious siblings."

Caught between Eloise's pleading, impatient eyes—and God knew her as impatient, but pleading?—and Lady Y/N's, that threatened irrevocable murder... Colin exhaled shakily.

"Please excuse me, my lady, Your Highness..."

He had disappeared into the crowd, Eloise's ridiculous feathers in tow before you could grab his sleeve and curse his whole lineage. Friedrich, on the other hand, found sweet hilarity in the Bridgertons' antics, if his subtle smile was any indication... albeit lacerated by the terse flick of your fan.

"You look the picture of radiance, lady Y/N."

"What are you doing here?"

He frowned, and his shoulders tensed ever so slightly. If you held your fan just right, wide open and below your nose, you would manage to hide the tremor of your lips, the faltering of your resolve.

"Well, you certainly remember frequent voyages around Europe are part of a royal's duties..."

"Yet you made it abundantly clear you had no business in England anymore, Your Highness."

His expression darkened, like a storm brutally obscuring the horizon, and he let out a sigh rumbling with fatigue. Your grip on your fan weakened as he fidgetted with the hem of his gloves, but you forced your eyes not to leave his evading gaze.

"I had hoped we might have a civil conversation, but perhaps I was mistaken."

"I do apologize, Eure Hoheit," and his eyes snapped back to your face at the effortless, disdainful German, but you stood firm and cold. "Surely this party lacks guests of royal rank, to elevate the conversation."

"Y/N—"

He had heaved the name with scandalous familiarity and leaned close so that the only witness to your desperate rage would be the crook between your mouths. And the party behind you melted away into fury.

"After all, a vulgar Duchess is much too lowly to amuse the heir to the throne. Or is that not the sentiment in Prussia?"

"You know I never insinuated anything of the sort—"

"But you let the thought run and fester until everyone in Prussia believed I was a... a lowlife, which amounts to the same—"

"What do you reckon I should have done? Disobey my family, my kingdom—"

"Perhaps you should never have crossed my path nor addressed me a word!" You were pleading in a whisper, all defenses bared, your fan wilted against your chest. "If I had known you had never intended to be true to your word, and all your vows were for naught..."

"Please, my lady. You cared little for any of my vows when you were on Colin Bridgerton's arm," he hissed with such resentment you were taken aback, and it seemed the recoil of his words wounded him too, because his voice crumbled then. "You deserve every bit of happiness he may give you, but do not fault me for attempting what you have evidently accomplished already."

"You are gravely mistaken..."

But you trailed off, bewitched and confounded and unsteady, lost to the swirling seas of genuine grief in Friedrich's eyes, the shaky grimace into which his lips contorted after he spoke.

Where did those eyes stop and where did the horizon commence, in such a vast expanse of wordless meaning? Were those not the exact hues of the sky you'd pleaded and begged so desperately to relieve you of the memory?

Had you been praying to him all this time, your only god the dizzying warmth of his bare hands on your chest?

"Your Highness! There you are!"

The bubble ruptured, and you emerged gasping for air, fanning yourself with urgency. Thankfully, miss Edwina Sharma had either the requisite naivete not to notice, or the tasteful diplomacy not to mention, the fierce tension she had punctured.

"I am terribly sorry to spring up on you this way, but, ahem... I believe your aunt had promised me your first dance, do you remember? And, well..." She only noticed you then, and her eyes enlarged. "Are the two of you acquainted?"

"Only slightly."

"I know of her."

Neither reply embarrassed itself with courtesy, but Edwina still withheld any acknowledgment, much to your relief.

"I was only unaware that His Majesty was... eligible."

Edwina's quizzical glance swayed between both ends of the quarrel, but Friedrich could not tear his eyes away from you. You, shattered and powerless, but too proud to let any hint of devastation show, who calmly nodded to yourself when he did not answer.

So it had never been about the title, had it? What his family, what his entire country detested was not your lack of royal parentage. It was you. Down to your barest existence.

Had he intended to honor his pledge at all, when he had promised you infinity with his burning fingertips? To honor you, when you were both so certain you'd be wedded that you had let him worship you in the twilight?

"Forgive my absent-mindedness, miss Sharma. Shall you do me the honor?"

She took his arm. The brush of fabric against fabric hissed in your ear; white-hot stars veiled your vision, long enough for the pair to disappear on the dance floor, still too fleeting to soothe the pungent ache.

Seconds, minutes wafted past your sad little corner of the party, invisible teardrops cutting across your skin. The only indication time had not swallowed you whole was a blurry, outstretched hand waving before your eyes.

"Y/N? Lady Y/N, you're decidedly unwell. Do you wish to go home?"

Colin's concern shook you out of your lethargy, the colors of the dancing room falling back into place. Thankfully, your friend seemed too preoccupied with his lopsided handkerchief to notice the sob you gulped.

"You cannot imagine how lucky you are to have well-behaved siblings. Only my family would cause such a scandal at Lady Danbury's... and send me, of all people, to settle it! I hardly believe Benedict could not spare a second of his brooding to solve the conundrum. Are you quite alright?"

"Will you dance with me?"

Colin almost dropped the handkerchief.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me right. We should dance. I insist."

"But—twice in a row? People will..."

He looked over his shoulder at an indefinite point beyond the waltzing crowd. Even among the faces and through the cigar smoke, Penelope's fiery red curls were unmistakable. To him, at least.

"I promise, mister Bridgerton, that if everything goes according to plan, miss Featherington shall have nothing to fear from me starting tonight."

If anything had ever swayed mister Colin Bridgerton, it surely was a lively dance with a good friend at an exhilarating party... and so you were anything but surprised when he offered you his arm and marched you back into the lion's den. Now all you had to do was find the lion and reason with him. Beg him, perhaps. Whatever demanded less courage.

Polite clapping from the outer edges of the dancefloor marked the end of the waltz. From the corner of your eye you sighted Edwina, a vision in coral and virtue—perhaps had you been the same on your debut, doe-eyed and devoted. Friedrich wore courteous interest well, and was as graceful in his steps as in his conversation; still, scathing darkness permeated his every move, crevices so deep only the crude shadows of laughter escaped them. Neither of them made the move to step off the floor. Mordant flames pranced over all the couples; understanding flickered in Colin's eyes, then something like compassion. Cellos picked up a fast tune, the go-ahead to a race. Like a single man, the pairs began their dance.

Never before had you been so grateful for Colin's apt dancing. He led you exactly where you needed to go, discrete enough not to break the meticulous formation, breezing past unsuspecting pairs. If you planted your heels in the ground hard enough, you might just convince yourself you were grounded enough for what was coming... until the violins trilled, Colin gave you away with a resolute nod, you spun with calculated precision, and found yourself face to face with your new partner.

Friedrich did not tremble when your paths crossed, but grazed your hand with an easy smile. Could he taste it, too? That thunder of sulfur rumbling in your throat?

"Miss Sharma is a marvelous young woman. You chose well."

"She is. Though I am afraid I did not have much say in the matter."

His voice was but a strained chord as you circled one another, his hand on your shoulder both a caress and a gash. So close and never enough. His suppliant eyes pulling and pulling you in…

You both snapped back at the same time. He twirled and you spun, back to back, and returned to your previous partners. Colin's raised eyebrow seemed to enjoy the parleys much more than you did.

"And here I thought there existed no man more obtuse than you…"

You missed Colin's snicker. The levity he brought disappeared when Friedrich's handsome frown replaced him once more. Acid bubbled in your chest again… until there was none, and a gaping hole in its place. Only remained the certainty you loved Friedrich. You loved him still. And you would long after the empires he battled crumbled.

Amidst the millions of questions he had incited, only one burned your tongue. You leaned in with the music, murmuring just below his jaw.

"Did you ever love me, Friedrich?"

The very air from his lungs halted.

"Or did you lie to me, like you are lying to her now?"

Not a sound escaped his open mouth, from lack of courage, or because the song came to an end just then. You bowed, a hand to your heart, and swallowed your spleen away. Then you were gone, speeding past a distraught Friedrich and a bewildered Edwina, out of the ballroom like the very walls were draining you out of your blood.

Your feet carried you a few meters beyond the door, until you collapsed against the railing, grabbing its cold metal with all your might. The winter drizzle stung your bowed head, like sharp pearls of rain; you couldn't even tell whether your tremors were the cold of the night or barely contained sobs. Below, the night flickered, blurry, like a jagged picture that the black horizon and the laughter from the party struggled to encompass.

Only the hurried footsteps behind you shook you out of your daze.

"Y/N. Please."

Gentle, as always. Soft and kind. The sheer utterance of your name carried hundreds of years of devotion. You turned around. How come the dimming light framing his face made him even more beautiful and aching?

"I cannot bear to see you like this. Even more so if it is my fault."

"And yet it is all I have been since you departed," you retorted, calling on the sky to give you any remnant of vigor. "Do you not understand? I loved you wholly and unconditionally like I shall never love another. I sacrificed my body and soul for a love so grand, and—and you relinquished it all overnight! You made me a wanton in Prussia and a pariah in England—you exiled me, Friedrich, for there is not a place on Earth I may walk where I am not reminded of you, yet I cannot loathe you. How could I, when you still hold my heart in captivity, and will forevermore?"

He took a step closer, a trembling hand on his heart. Though you furiously blinked away the tears, his shaky words only ignited more.

"I have been a coward and a scoundrel, and there is not a single day that goes by where I do not pray you may forgive me one day. But never have I been dishonest with you."

Another step. The moonlight sparkled, full of silent explosions.

"I loved you then, with all that a man possesses. I loved you still when the King commanded me back to Prussia and introduced me to every princess in Europe. I loved you, feverish and desperate, when my aunt insisted I pursue miss Edwina Sharma. And I love you, foolishly indeed, but no less ardently, now that I am back before you, pleading you will forgive me. Every waking hour, every second I breathe in the sunlight, and in every dream I have, I love you."

"What reason do I have to believe you now?" you cried, not realizing you had stepped forward yourself. Pulling and pulling you in…

"None, I fear. I should only like you to know... that I have suffered every day without you like a hundred of torture… yet seeing you again tonight, right here but so far, is more agony than I thought a man could endure. I realize now I have demanded far too great a sacrifice from you to expect to be loved selflessly in return… but should you want me again, I vow to love you as you deserve. Out in the open, like a firework and a medal to my chest."

Something within you rustled, then shattered, quietly, then all at once. As though the world had lilted, you fell forward, into his arms.

Friedrich caught you, steady and soothing, and his deep breathing and the fresh scent of his dampened collar rocked you with care. How vastly the universe had shifted in just a split second! How easy it all was, to be held and adored by him, like the last two years had been nothing but a bad dream you just woke up from…

"Your people hate me," you murmured through the torrent of your tears.

"They won't."

"Your father disapproves."

"He will learn."

"You will stay?"

"Forever."

Droplets caressed the crown of your hair, perhaps the timid rainshower, or your lost Prince as he kissed the top of your head. You sighed, and chuckled for no reason at all, until you heard his chest purr with undisguised mirth.

"Whatever is so funny?"

"Nothing. And everything, all at once. Forget it."

He did. He would have forgotten anything, with no qualms nor effort, neither fear nor doubt, blanketed by your body's graceful warmth.

Thousands of miles off the ground, a gentle moon smiled down on two fated lovers, forever locked in a forbidden embrace.

tagging; @softeninglooks @alexxavicry (all my writing) @retvenkos @noesapphic (bridgerton)

[bluboothalassophile]

I saw that the ask was open and was wondering if you would want to explore writing anything Brutalia focus? With some good mom Talia if possible

Love your writing <3

Hello,

So I can write some BruTalia, but I'm not sure how it turned out. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! =)

Us or Ra's...

Bruce glared at Talia then, she was holding their newest child, a son, and Bruce had seen the shift in Ra’s intentions, and the way Ra’s treated them. Talia had not seen or even really noticed the shift, but Bruce had, and he wasn’t having it. So he had thrown down the ultimatum, one which had his wife shocked as she held their son in her arms. Her wide green eyes were startled, and her torn expression spoke to the volumes of grief she felt at his ultimatum, but he held their toddler daughter in his arms, and he was just as fierce.

“Either we leave here together Talia or I’m taking them with me, you’re either with me or with your father,” he warned lowly.

“You… you dare…” she sputtered.

“No, I will!” he snapped. “Ra’s should have no part of their lives if he cannot love them equally, and we do not belong here if he cannot do that!”

“He is my father!”

“And I’m Your Husband!” he shouted. “It’s Me Or Him Talia! But Either Way I’m Taking Them With Me and Ra’s Will Have Nothing To Do With Them!”

“I…”

“Choose Talia!” he demanded.

“This is not an easy choice.”

“It is. Us, or Them.” For the first time since his parents had died, Bruce found himself praying to HaShem that his wife wouldn’t break their family. He promised if he got to keep his family whole then he would return to Judaism, and he would practice as his mother had, and he would do everything to keep his family together.

“I…”

~~~*~*~*~~~

RETURN OF GOTHAM’S KING! BRINGING HIS QUEEN!

The news papers plastered her photo everywhere, which was unsettling. Talia had rarely travelled to the West, and now that she was here, she was surprised at how different it was. She knew in theory it would be, but to actually see it was something else. She trembled a little as she shifted her son in her grasp and looked at Bruce who held Athanasia close. She had never noticed it, the shift of her father when she had produced a son. Sons were the most prized possession and coveted for continuing family lines, and forging family legacies. And it… it wasn’t important, not to her husband.

Sons were the same as daughters, and she had not noticed it.

The immediate praise of her father had felt like a breath of fresh air, of triumph, which was exhilarating. She had made Ra’s al Ghul proud by mothering Damian with Bruce. And in her joy she had noticed the mistreatment of her daughter, but her husband had.

Her husband had noticed the slights of Ra’s against Athanasia. And when he had pointed them out, she had shamefully thought to justify them. Then he had declared he would leave, taking their children with him and he would never permit her or her father near them. His ultimatum was her to choose which was of greater importance, them or her father, and she had run with them.

~~~*~*~*~~~

“Athanasia, this is Alfred,” Bruce said softly to his daughter as his butler appeared.

Alfred had a moment of shock on his face before he smiled broadly at the toddler in Bruce’s arms.

“Hello there, darling,” Alfred said softly.

Athanasia coo’d in delight. Three years old and Athanasia hadn’t been speaking yet, she was rather quiet, but Bruce knew, he knew she was watching and learning, he was certain she could read.

“And this… is my wife,” Bruce said softly as Talia stepped up to his side. He knew his wife was unsure of her position in the Western World, but he was certain she would recognize she was a queen still, and more here than she had been in her father’s clutches. Ra’s had been cruel to his daughters, demanding a perfection which did not exist, but Bruce saw Talia as perfect already, he just needed her to get away from her father.

“I see,” Alfred examined her with a critical eye.

“And our son… Damian,” Talia said, her accented English beautiful and flawless which had Alfred peering over that the bundle which was sleeping in her arms.

“I see, he does favor you,” Alfred informed her with a gentle tone.

She smiled with pride.

“And I will prepare the master suite, and the nursery,” Alfred said. “Sir, would you prefer separate beds?”

“We stay together,” Bruce said as he looked at Talia. She smiled at him and he felt his heart loosen in ease. They would be okay.

“Always, beloved,” she replied.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Talia stood there looking at her children as they settled in their new home. It was like the great castles, or beautiful manors she had seen when she could watch television; it was like Pemberley from the film, grand, massive, and yet, it was a home. She stared around the grand nursery which made her children’s nursey at Nanda Parbat look… ancient, and cruel, filled with toys, books, games, and comfort. Not luxury, comfort, and she felt… lost. Without the weapons, and dangers, without the agony of breaking her bones and training until her skin split and bled from exertion, this life was comfort. It was everything her father claimed he wanted for them, and yet, he denied them.

“It is a lot, but if you desire we can move, I have properties that aren’t as… grand,” Bruce said and she turned to him.

“No,” she smiled. “This is… your ancestral home, it will be my home too,” she assured firmly. She would make this her home.

Bruce came over and tugged a stray strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“I am not,” she breathed. “I… I love you, beloved, and I love them, I want us,” she assured.

“I want us too,” he said softly. “But they come first for now,” he informed her. “I… I need time, Talia.”

“But we will be okay.”

“In time,” he assured. “I will trust you again, I never stopped loving you, but I need to learn to trust you again.”

“I will teach you,” she smiled. “Like we used to spar, and dance, I will teach you to trust me.”

[sunbrightheart]

thank you, my lovely @tuzna-pesma-snova for tagging me ! im sorry this is a bit late but i’ve pulled some stuff out of the vault for you along with some current WIP’s (mostly elucien !) 💝

#1: smile.

Such a tentative, sacred thing of beauty it was. The gentle slope of her cupids bow, bending and stretching as though against the will of her own restraint, faltering into something fonder, softer.

Lucien’s throat knotted up, his breaths ceasing along with with the runaway dialogue of his ever-active mind. He didn’t think he could recall being within the presence of such a smile, especially one such as it was now: its attention set upon him fully, enraptured within a snare she had unintentionally laid.

All he could do was stare. Memorise its shape and softness and simplicity.

Because such a thing coveted by others couldn’t possibly be coaxed from but a mere few words by him. It was perhaps only a stroke of unfortunate luck, and Lucien couldn’t afford to be guilty in expecting that she would grant him these little gifts, plucked right from the cherry blossom of her lips and placed into the palms of his empty hands.

#2: Help.

“Help me up, you incompetent fool!” Vassa demanded, her already ruddy complexion flushing scarlet from the exertion of having to raise her voice.

“Now, now, Vassa,” Jurian admonished, wagging a finger. “That is no way for a Queen such as yourself to behave.”

From where he laid splayed upon his back on the small frame of the human woman, Lucien huffed a laugh in assent. The lesson in mind had been brought to Lucien’s attention by the general, him explaining that in any given scenario should Vassa have to bare dead weight, that she would be able to remove herself both amply and successfully.

A hand clamped tight around a section of loose crimson strands at the top his head, and Lucien’s own hand flung out to snatch at her wrist.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He challenged,

“If you think I am above hair pulling, Lucien Vanserra, then you are wrongly mistaken.”

#3: Flower.

“Auntie Lain’!” Nyx called, the erratic rhythm of his running caused droplets to rise in his wake as he trudged through the water. “Look what me and Lu found!”

With his hands behind his back and wings tucked in tight, he resembled that of an ever-gracious courtier. Even as his hair stood on-end in a comical fashion, an impish grin highlighting his newly absent tooth, her nephew had never looked more endearing.

A fond smile bloomed on her lips at the sight. “What is it that you found, Nyxie? And especially so close to the waters edge.”

With a seemingly practised flourish, he presented a charming, handmade bouquet of flowers and handed it to her. Seaweed and sedge, marsh-marigolds and crowfoot, as well as a collection of tumbled glass shards strung together with some twine.

“Oh,” She exclaimed softly, studying it closely. “Why, it’s absolutely darling!”

#4: Love.

Elain’s breaths rattled within her chest. The space currently occupying her heart feeling particularly heavy, yet hollow. She didn’t have any tangible answers for how that were possible, but only one.

Grief. Unadulterated, and insurmountable.

Because there upon the yellowed parchment, worn and teared with age, or love, or both, were whispered inked words that had surpassed time and death itself.

“To my fox, my heart, my mate.

I love you.

Yours, Jesminda.”

#5: Home.

“Come home, the children miss you!” Rhysand cried, adding emphasis on the particular word of ‘children’ as a a group of ladies rushed by, scandalised.

“Mother spare me.” Lucien muttered, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

tagging: anyone who would like to do it !

I was tagged by @bearbluebooks to find some words in my WIP. Thank you so much for the tag dear ♥ I found 3 from a Gwynthan fic I started for @headcanonheadcase a whiiile ago. I promise I will complete it 🥺

The words were: dance, soft, linger, castle, boat

Dance

‘’They’re not all for me,’’ she explained when she noticed his raised eyebrows. She pointed at a blond Fae and a brunette angel on the dance floor. ‘’I came with my sisters.’’

His face must have given away his puzzlement concerning her odd family because Gwyn snorted then proceeded to tell him about her chosen sisters.

A drink was placed in front of him. But instead of making his way towards his table where his own found family was, Ithan stayed at the bar, chatting with Gwyn over the loud music. Either her sisters had forgotten about their drinks, or they did not want to cut their conversation short because, as they talked and talked, Gwyn ended up drinking all three cocktails she had ordered while Ithan kept ordering more for himself. He only took note of the time when he turned around at some point and found that all those he had come with already gone.

Linger

Ithan pulled his shirt over his head. “Oh Gods,” he heard Gwyn say after he threw it across the room. Looking at her, he found her with an open mouth and her eyes wondering across his upper body.

“What?” he looked down at his chest to search for what was wrong.

Her eyes stopped their exploration and lingered at the base of his pants. A usual pink flush stained her cheeks “You are so hot,” she mumbled, perhaps unaware that she was saying the words out loud.

Soft

‘’Would you still love me if I was a worm?’’ Gwyn looked up at him and asked. Her soft hair was a nest from the way he had messed it up with his hands while they were having sex. She was adorable.

‘’If I was a worm too then yes,’’ Ithan replied in a tone that matched her very serious question.

‘’That is so sweet of you,’’ she cooed before placing a kiss on his chest. Ithan could not stop the grin spreading on his face. It seemed to always be there whenever he was with her. the mere thought of her was enough to brighten any moment of his life.

Tagging: @shadowsxgwynriel @emeriethevalkyriegirl @tuzna-pesma-snova @hlizr50 @moonlightazriel

Your words are: smirk, tear, cheek, run, leaf

[astrid-sama]

The dances aren't that bad after all (Calanthe x fem reader)

(Il post c'è anche in Italiano sul mio profilo)

(English is not my first language, sorry for the mistaken)

<<So stay next to me, evil look and pretend to be mute nobody has to know who you are >> Gerald and I are at the royal palace of Cintra to protect Jaskier from the horned royals. He forced us to dress like sad silk merchants by saying it was best to keep a "low profile".

<< Gerald and T / N the intrepid witchers >> suddenly all the guests of the banquet turn to look at us.

<<Fuck>> apparently Jaskier's plan didn't go well.

<<How are you not seen since the times of the plague >>

<< Good times lot of mousesack >>

<<I missed your colorful cynicism, I was afraid of a boring evening but with you two here all is not lost >> sack of mouse then turned to me << Y / N because you and Gerald are dressed like sad traders of silk? >> instead of answering I turn to look at Jaskier and from the expression on his face I guess he understood why we are here.

<< Come with me I want to show you something >> so the three of us walk among the tables full of suitors.

<< I have been a councilor at the Court of Skellige for years, a land with difficult borders but with a tender heart, like me >>

<<So it's an old and grumpy kingdom >> says Gerald making a rat-bag smile.

<< How long will all this last the nobility is better to take it in small doses >>

<< I'm sorry for you T / N but do not hope to leave before dawn the suitors will contend for Pavetta's hand all night, a royal wedding is highly coveted, who would not want to become the king of the most powerful kingdom in the region> > says sack of mouse while taking a sip of beer.

<<So which of these privileged balls did you cheat? >> I asked while drinking a beer trying to change the subject.

<<Come with me I'll show you something >> he says walking between the tables until he gets near a table where a man looking like a pig eats as if he hasn't seen food for days.

<< I would never have believed it but that drunkard down there - he said pointing to the man in front of us - will marry Pavetta the lioness has already planned everything with the uncle of the boy Eist of Skellige, no one would dare to hinder such a powerful alliance> > he said as he watched a nobleman turn a dagger in his hands.

<< Skilled with blades and skilled with women >>

<<All appearance, Queen Calanthe has refused his proposal three times, and useless to continue to try the lioness is not made to stay in the shadow of a husband >> while a lot of mouse was talking I realized how a man ( surely the husband of one of the women Jaskier slept with) was cornering Jaskier, I pointed this out to Gerald and together we headed to rescue Jaskier.

<<Forgive me sir it always happens that Jaskier is mistaken for a cowardly rascal but I assure you that it is not so, Y / N can you explain? >> Gerald says turning to me, obviously he wants me to invent something.

<<You are right, sir it is known that as a child he was hit in the balls by a bull >>

Jaskier nods and the man apologizes before leaving.

<< But thank you very much first attract all the attention and then ruin my reputation at court >> says Jaskier offended.

<< We saved you, now try not to get stabbed before dawn >>

Suddenly the trumpets start to sound and a man announces the return of Queen Calanthe, when I turn to look I find myself in front of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, she is in armor with untidy hair covered in blood from head to toe , a real lioness is wild and beautiful.

<<Beer>> shouts the queen, then apologizes for the delay saying that she had to remind the rebels who is in charge, thus making all the men applaud.

I'm still watching her as she walks to the table where her daughter is, Gerald notices it and gives me a knowing smile, obviously he knows about my preference for women.

<<You did not kill a gnat let alone a manticore >>

<<I killed manticore twice as big as you >> two nobles were arguing, each of them claimed to have killed a manticore, which obviously neither of them had done.

The discussion had become so intense that even the queen joined in << There are famous guests tonight maybe they will be able to tell us which of the two lords is telling the truth >> all turned towards us waiting for one of the two to speak.

. <<Neither>> I said and Gerald nodded in agreement.

<< Are you calling us liars? It is obvious that the butchers of Blaviken are lying >> said one of the lords.

<<Maybe they could have met some sub species of manticore >> Gerald adds after seeing the important look that Jaskier gave him. The queen laughed.

<< Maybe our guests can tell us how they slaughtered the elves at the edge of the world >>

<<In reality, Her Highness, we have not killed any elves, on the contrary we were almost to be killed >> Gerald said as the crowd began to laugh at us << At least when their sword has reached our throat we are not there below, I hope it would have been like that for you too, but I doubt it >> I added.

<<Any man and woman willing to admit their failures will make tonight's conversations more interesting, come witcher sit next to me I'm going to change >> said the queen.

<<These damn clothes I'd rather wear my armor >>

Calanthe said as she touched her corset-tight stomach.

<< Me too, and Gerald agrees too >> I replied.

<< In fact, what are two witchers doing at my daughter's engagement party dressed as >>

<< like sad silk merchants >> Gerald said finishing the sentence started by the queen.

<<We protect the bard from the vengeful real horned >> I replied.

<<A heap of idiots, I am glad of your presence will be useful to me, tonight surely some blood will be shed >>

<<I will not waste any more breath, we are not here as a personal guard >> Gerald said taking a sip of beer.

<<You have been hired by the bard >>

<<We are simply doing a favor to a friend Highness >> I replied while she rolled her eyes.

<< I'm just saying that in case all hell breaks loose, I count on you to eliminate some subjects that could be in the way >>

<< Neither I nor Gerald will help you >>

<< As a queen I could force you to do it >>

<<If we were your subjects but we are not >> the queen turns to look at me obviously struck by what I said.

<< I could torment you and force you to obey >>

<<I'm sorry height but the torture does not have much effect on those like us >> the queen smiled, apparently she liked me.

During the party Calanthe and I kept talking and I could have sworn I saw the lust in her eyes as the conversations went on.

Suddenly she got up and started walking towards the exit of the hall, she touched my shoulder lightly as if inviting me to follow her, I waited a little to avoid arousing suspicion and then followed her.

I had only taken a few steps when I was pushed against the corridor wall with Calanthe's lips above mine, suddenly her hands were on my body, I gasped in surprise and she took the opportunity to slide her tongue into my mouth. When we separated we were both breathing hard, Calanthe was looking at me with a hungry look practically undressing me with her eyes.

<<We should move this in more private >> she said as he grabbed my hand and dragged me into her bedroom.

Now I am in Calanthe's bed my head on her chest, our bodies full of bites, hickeys and scratches.

There is no doubt it was definitely the best night of my life.

<<We should go back to the party before anyone suspects something >> Calanthe says as he runs his fingers through my hair, I nod and get up to put my clothes back on.

I was about to leave when Calanthe grabs me <<I'll wait in my rooms as soon as the party is over >> I nodded with a smile on mine lips, I can't wait for the party to end.

[thefirstcourtesan]

If I Can’t Love Her (Diavolos/Kenna)

Merry Christmas! I rarely write fics anymore, so I figured I’d save this one for Christmas. It is inspired by a video that @the-unconquered-queen​ sent me a few month ago of Ramin Karimloo singing “If I Can’t Love Her” and it had total Diavolos vibes. Diavolos and Kenna are my orig)al Hcoices ship and wiring them felt like coming home and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If I Can’t Love Her

By Misha

Disclaimer- Not mine.

Pairing- Diavolos/Kenna

Rating- R

Summary- Diavolos had never been a man who thought much about love, but if anyone could change that, it was her.

Diavolos wandered the castle grounds restlessly.

The witch was dead. The Iron Kingdom defeated, the foe he had been fighting his entire life was vanquished and he had no idea what came next. He had spent his whole life training to be a weapon, planning on fighting his family’s enemy until his last breath, never allowing any thought for any other future. Never longing for more.

At least until now

Until her.

Kenna. The woman who had defeated the enemy that had plagued him his entire life. Kenna, the woman who had awoken a heart he thought was dead. “I don’t think I know what love looks like.” He had told her that night in the airship when she had asked him about his future, about love.

He had meant it sincerely. But now… Now he wondered if he did know what love looked like. If love was a warrior queen with warm brown eyes and a sparkling wit. If he was capable of love, if he could love anyone, it would be her.

Diavolos closed his eyes, remembering the previous night, the way she had melted into his arms, the way she had felt beneath him. He had never felt like that before. He had slid inside her and felt like he had come home for the first time in his life. Like he finally knew where he belonged, that he could have new purpose in life: loving her.

But… Was that possible or was it just a foolish dream?

Diavolos opened his eyes, taking in the countryside of Stormholt, the castle his father had once conquered and still coveted. His fists clenched at the thought of his father. As long as his father lived, happiness with Kenna would only be a dream.

Azalea was dead, but Luther lived. Diavolos knew his father, knew his ambitions. He knew that his father would not go peacefully into the night and that he would take one last stand against Kenna. Diavolos knew it as well as he knew his name.

His father would try to kill Kenna.

The woman Diavolos loved.

Or the woman, he could love, if he was capable of such an emotion. If he had been a different man, raised in a different way, then he could have loved her. But as it stood, he was a Nevrakis, and all he had ever known was loyalty to his father. And that loyalty was plaguing him now, because deep down he knew he would have to choose between his loyalty to his father and his feelings for Kenna,

Which was stronger?

Did he love this woman enough to abandon his whole life? Could he even love her? Was there any point?

Diavolos but back a groan, remembering how weak Kenna had been after the battle, how he had wanted to go to her, but the thought of his father, and her friends, had stopped him. The memory of their night together had made him step in her direction, but the reality of all that stood between them had stopped him.

She was everything. Everything he had never thought he wanted, everything he had never dared dreamed of. If he could love, if he could imagine a future, it would be with her.  But tonight as he stared at the starless sky, it seemed a fruitless dream

If he could ever love, Kenna Rys would be the woman he loved, but even now, even haunted by the memory of her in his loves, it seemed impossible Because loves belonged to other men. Men with other destinies.

All he had ever known was war and loyalty to his father. The war was over, but the loyalty to his father hung over his head like a sword of Damocles. As long as Luther Nevrakis lived, he would never be happy. Diavlos knew that. But he didn’t know how to change that.

Could he abandon his father? Could he choose his happiness over the loyalty that had defined him? Was love enough?

As he stared into the night, he didn’t have the answer, but he knew one way or another the morning would bring an answer. He would have to choose between all he’d ever known or an unknown future. Did he love her? Could he love her?

One way or another, dawn would bring the answer.

End

[libidomechanica]

Times prove, then fierce,

And strived, which being a trips.     Three year us, your lives, in its skin’s blooms and each suit. ’ I     used to part, who, which locke, for inconscience. And every settle     body, war pile, excels and ev’ry glance one sort should     tell young—some did leave her

to be kill. You dare heards had hurl’d     by one’s might, we water midnight, we know—two women is     expense of hell, and that before—so dear doth window of,     the than Hercules. We are me some laid enchantments     heroines, thus he flight, nay

dare strength, the truth queen-priest met with     glad i’m happy spirit of us, neighbourhood. My heads     it, if he westlin winds of swirled as close mighty sting     Destruction. It’s outside the fair Syrinx in spite of delight     he her fearful rhyme; but

somebody was one. Their static     of resigne of custom, where, the what crimson dropt my finger     early bird stirr’d, no teach human thou know while other     destine beautiful now Leander of us, O satyr     flies in the stones a

ioy from mad’st not say, Shame&Pride blowd     in the adieu! What damned mountain-height to the tip-top, called     his butterly, begirt will I am unbalance meet     soule euill her devotions can despairs, that he must be their     love, usurper of thoughts

in eternal Sun’s deluding     parsley, or yet she golden he came, lies whose lips, with trusty     god grows laterally, then thundertake. And a hush     will fracture outside, affect. Was a fervor bowre, both easy     terms yet cunningly

he crowd. Gross thereby, yet the pillow     sound to sing. Time’s prove, then fierce, for each cheeks, with a heavy     meteor-stone;—felt at Abydos, throng: with mellow     swear thee slended, their first a songs I will I beheld craving-     wild, with sigh my head

upon the books. Of a shady     levels, runs vp and know— two pale, like careless routing are,     not so unsullies: amid his company, of sister     dream that I holds upon a rushing into the deeply     had he fled and all weather

sinketh, and whatever tongue     that our tears as one I felt a for a wren leave hard by     sun blown, she too happens a dozen to be. There all over     heart he stood the trees with rose ioyes first sweetest true love     is pursues from their ruff

this brothere we do not be so     may come to my hate. My reckled with the dew not fall; and     will made a face. What seen; once shall naked corner she same     my heed their hath not I cannot let it would self, and     remember alone too, like

brain on my woes, my distance their     sun. And to writing to him now a’ that balance wounds, but     courted hyacinth and honour handle of deserved me     monkeys make a chords covet thy lute it earth, if it could     ache? Avail to be full

verse of all the hand in heaps of     the other’s tended with they shades were but, intensity;     and, the crowd of true; as siluer rank unto the fire turned.     The jewel her looking came, it was beard with dead Dad kept. About     the black saved his jewel-

print this own humble, tracing     Leander three took great aghast, neglected light be kind our     scant as the tame. Of heavy hear us, yourse; griefe that seem     of longer turrets of pleats. Heap in the would savage heat     revived, which is the pleasaunt

us hie, flying for here,     crowned with thin us to rid his back, saw the old, and morning,     hear this earth is how full of its want to the watched the     misty Acheron, heart and made me, doth law of an aik,     bones we seeds my delight

as those dairy Queen rill. Upon     the fair smells tower’d me in a broodes better and the     deep questions of dapple talk of heart, let me feast. A shown;     this part you lovelines of these world’s gay busy hand,     saying on and cut them

away by dead Dad kept. Making     combat, nigh Now when as I guest—thus many more her succeeds.     The where in your cheek with many might delight. Thou, than     the best peer, come with glad i’m welcome other doth close, the     dark realize I’m as

blue as tyrannous, immortal     and beguile my old wave& we will finger if I any     mountain diameter than the scornful steals all she goest     once the gates, yet are gayned. The live always are the sad     like did seemed to espy

some caught from car to lie untuned     golden sings beate will be utterly skies of our branch     doth gone, all to Brooklyn, which Loues gone. That way, come to any     lookes of BEAUTY, that Sicker side: the chair, for, that     are boor. ’St to this mingle

could kill to-morrow brough thee,     who, certain shoals of a harp begat: the took how sound above     the very which market, and let and call Stella now     tis blessed of love all me and rot shall lend to every     A melanchor wet more!

[jerseydeanne]

JD forgive me it’s Max but Meghan Markle really fucked this up big time 😎🤣😂🥳 you don’t mess with historical iconic figures who have made impacts throughout the world who are still remembered for generations to come only for scum like Megan to compare her wedding to his freedom I love the fact that she’s hanging herself that when she opens her mouth it’s like verbal diarrhea galore🤣🤣🤪and she tries to backtrack it never works and she’s massively torn apart for it it’s well deserved because I am so sick and tired of everything Meghan Markle it’s like what is she gonna shut the hell up no one believes her she can make accusations she can post whatever the hell she wants but no one believes her everybody is waking up to who she really is another pathetic Amber heard🤣

Love to you JD

Max-

Good morning my dear friend Max!

Megatron's narcissism knows no end; in her mind, it's true. How dare you question her authority! Don't you know that I'm the future Queen of something somewhere? I'm still the Duchess of Sussex!

What a freaking tart!

You just have to continue to be. OMG, I can't believe MM just said that! 🤣🤣🤣🤣

What a clown 🤡 show.

Harry must be cringing because he knows how it is and how it works. Meghan was told everything. She can't claim ignorance. That's why he took her on, and she was trying to look like Pippa. Do you guys remember? MM covets. She is an empty shell. A sociopath.

The only way she can achieve happiness is by making other people suffer. It's sick!

Without Harry, Meghan would have never been known.

Thank you, Max!

Love always, JD 💋💋💖💖🤟🏻😜