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blueberrypancakesworld · 5 months ago

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Prolog ~ The tale begins

The lost boys x princess!reader

warning : reader is the princess, forced marriage, no use of y/n, fluff, comfort, attempted assassination, a little angst

Summary : Once upon a time in a kingdom the king with his only child was the princess of the realm. A young woman is the king's hope that his line will continue because after all, she too must marry, but she was not told that this marriage would come sooner than she would have liked. The bells and joys of the wedding ring out and a new royal couple rises to the inner incongruity of four men who pay more attention to the princess than they should. For all is not right in this fairytale wedding and dead bodies may appear before the marriage bond has even been consummated.

info : So the start of my second tlb - mini series i'm very excited because i could just write so much about the thing. The themes, characters and everything else i hope you all like the prologue and see you next week for part two of the six part series

series - masterlist

tlb - masterlist

Part.1 , Part.2 , Part.3 , Part.4 , Part.5

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The story begins with Once upon a time...there was a kingdom in a faraway land full of possibilities, lands, houses, knights, towns and villagers. An old kingdom with many good and bad dark times but a kingdom that has existed for generations until this day.

The crown with blood-red rubies on the head of King Max, who had received it from his father and who from his is to the conqueror of this land who had his roots in distant Transylvania.

A king with sternness towards his enemies, with understanding for his people, a just man to his vassals and a father to his daughter, his only flesh and blood.

The princess of the realm, the only heiress to the throne who would take it on her twenty-first birthday when her father died one day. But that would take time, the king full of health and goodness for a daughter, the man who remained loyal to his first wife and swore to remain unmarried until his death. ,,You are the best of your mother," he used to say when he looked at his daughter, the same loving eyes, the sincere smile and the beauty that surpassed everything.

But it wasn't a shadow of war that settled over the land, no, there were always such things, there were daily hardships among the population and requests to attend meetings always came via the ravens.

No, it was the time that dragged over the land, it was the tradition and the natural rules that his daughter had to marry. ,,If you want to take this throne in the name of your husband and rule by his side, you need his hand and his presence...without this, I am powerless too, my child" his words were full of truth, but they hurt worse than any prick of an embroidery needle in her finger.

Pain that made her turn away from her father's calls, ,,I want to be alone father" she had only said and had walked past him out of her own room, knowing that she was only condemned to walk around until the king was gone.

Her eyes blinked away tears of anger, anger at tradition, at nature, at her sex which always seemed to weaken no matter what she did. Reigning in his name is like a gilded cage, she thought, raising her eyes to the sky as she stepped out onto the courtyard.

A few wispy white puffy clouds could be seen, the sun was coming out and warming her skin and a few birds were singing. It was peaceful and quiet for how long?

She was no longer a naive young girl who believed that everything belonged to her as she had always been told in the songs. No, every time she looked at herself in the mirror she didn't just see her mother's words, the spoken image, it was the time she saw.

With each winter that came and went, she grew older and more like a highborn lady, the princess of the realm...with a burden of hundreds of people on her. But I will not rule no matter how much I am charged, it will go to my husband she said innerly, not that she wanted to have everything on her own, carrying the crown and taking care of the girls she had accompanied all her life was a task she gladly took on.

But her friend Lady Star, a married daughter of a lord and vassal of her father, already had a son. She was the same age as she was when she had her son, the heir, at nineteen, an age that was perfect, as the masters and healers always called it, but it was an age that only frightened her even more.

,,Still nothing at twenty-one, either I'm blessed with luck or I'm poorer than I thought", she murmured and walked on across the courtyard past the servants who lived and worked in the castle.

But she knew that would change soon, perhaps there was still the coming midsummer in which she could enjoy nature with outings on horseback or a meal in the meadow with Star.

Her thoughts and fantasies were interrupted, however, when she heard the sounds of a sword fight. Turning her gaze to the practice area, she smiled as she saw the fair-haired knight and leader of the Kingsguard, Ser David.

Not only someone who had accompanied and protected her for ages, but also someone who had shown her the merits of the common people at one time or another. Slowly approaching, she watched as he demonstrated the best moves for a duel for the new recruits who were only a few years younger and he could have been a recruit himself.

But in his mid-twenties he had been appointed commander by her father himself, and not only had he proven himself in battle, he also had the strategies to show for it.

A natural leader. He always looks like he's having fun, she thought as she saw the slight grin on his lips as he seemed to swing the sword effortlessly, almost like an excited dance as he went around his opponent and struck.

The sparks like lights appeared again and again and his bright hair shone in the sun. He was a true knight from the love stories she read from time to time at night when sleep would not come. But then he took another swing and she saw it in his green blue eyes, the victory like a sparkle when he knew he would win and his smile became almost satisfied.

With a muffled clang from the sandy ground of the fenced square, the recruit landed on the ground and the sword beside him. ,,You fought well and-" he paused as his gaze met hers he had finally spotted her and the younger ones hurriedly followed suit and a half-sounding ,,Good day princess" came from the youngsters who hurried away as they saw the nod of their commander who picked up his helmet from the ground and came over to her.

She smirked, ,,They're more startled than mice," she commented and looked after the offspring who hurriedly disappeared into the King's Guard building and did God knows what again, words that also made David smile.

Nevertheless, he bowed to her personally, his hands gently caressing hers and placing a kiss on the back of her hand, ,,My princess, what gives me the honor? Or have you just come to see how little mice run?" he asked with a wink, which she dismissed with a roll of her eyes and she hooked onto him as they walked across the courtyard together. But he didn't seem to feel the tingling on her skin that his touch caused or were his eyes not on her hand?

Pushing the thought aside, she was silent for a moment before she began again, ,,I always like to come and watch you, a commander without training would be a shame...no, to be honest, I ran away from the king," she confessed, avoiding his worried gaze, sensing that he wanted to stop, but she braved it and he continued to walk with her.

In the end he always did what she wanted, he was just a knight and she was his princess. She saw his questions in his eyes and knew what he would and wouldn't ask.

But before he could open his lips, they heard the barking of dogs running towards them. ,,Looks like the hunter is back," the commander muttered, looking towards the gate through which their mutual friend and royal hunter Dwayne was riding on horseback.

His dogs Arthur, Jack and William, who had always been at his side since he took over, were gentle animals with friends and beasts to enemies and prey.

Detaching herself from David and leaning towards the animals, she stroked the soft fur of each one, which nudged her hand with their damp muzzles and wagged their tails happily.

But her delight was not spared, the dogs wanted to practically hug the blond and kept jumping on him, which amused the princess. She knew that David liked the animals, but with so much affection he seemed almost overwhelmed, hardly imaginable since she had seen him so responsibly before.

,,That's enough now," came the voice of the black-haired man who had dismounted his horse and was leading it by the reins behind him towards them, but he too hid himself with a ,,My princess...Commander" before a slight smile crept onto his lips and the tension of hunting and duty left him when he was with his friends.

His dark brown eyes and black hair were mysterious like the cloaked figures in stories, but his confidence and gentleness with animals was something that had always appealed to her. ,,Was it successful?" the blond asked, looking past his friend to the horse, which had a number of strange animals attached to its saddle and back, almost enough for a feast if one were to walk off the traps.

A nod came before Dwayne indicated he would take the horse to the places and his friends followed beside him, ,,More animals than usual good for us and good for my companions...the king has asked for a lot of meat" he admitted after a moment of silence as they arrived at the stable and the stable boys took the kill from the horse and carried it to the kitchen apparently they had been instructed to do so.

,,More meat? Winter is still so far away he didn't fear another famine," David mused, leaning on the wooden rail holding up the roof while Dwayne just shook his head and stroked his horse but the princess was beginning to feel uneasy. Her lips opened to let Dwayne know the reason for her uproar outside, and suddenly there was a stirring in the hay one stall over.

The three of them watched curiously as a blond tousled head of hair and the sound of bells could be heard and none other than the court jester Paul stood up. ,,Well, that was a nap...oh princess, it's so nice to see you all naked without any straw," the blond man said and rose with a broad smile at his own words before he moved away and put his jingling cap back on and put an arm around the knight's shoulder.

Suppressing a grin and rolling her eyes at his once again bad puns, she was hardly surprised to find him in the straw the last time he had fallen asleep on the castle tower high up by the banner. ,,Nice to see you drunk fool sober again," David replied and fished some straw off his and Paul's clothes that had stuck to them, ,,And not on a tree," ,,Or the tower," Dwayne and the princess replied before the group laughed at the confused expression on the fool's face as he shook his head and his bells rang.

The group not only smiled at the mostly eye-rolling jokes of the court jester, who, however, had his nose more in smoking substances and alcohol than in reasonably good books that would teach him to laugh.

The friend joined the group, not only was his stomach rumbling for food, but the straw seemed to be too picky for him after his intoxication, making his tousled hair look even more disheveled and messy, ,,Such behavior in front of the princess," she reprimanded, tapping the bells on his scarlet cap with her finger as Paul fished the last of the strands out of his hair.

The group next to her, each of the castle servants usually walked next to the princess since she was little, she had insisted. How could you have a proper conversation when your servants and friends were always several steps behind you, annoying and useless? The friends were almost complete, only one was missing who was usually to be found inside the castle anyway, Dwayne's remark about the meat, an even drunker Paul with even worse jokes and David who already had new recruits something was wrong.

Something was wrong as if a summer thunderstorm was in the air and would hit the land with a shock when no one expected it, ,,We're going to get Marko I need your eyes and ears something is going to happen" she said and headed for the next best door into the castle and her slightly confused friends followed her everywhere not only as subordinates, protectors and maybe more.

,,Our eyes and ears are here," the blond said with a chuckle and the others just sighed again at the fool's not-so-good words, ,, You mean the extra meat, the early recruitment and Paul's even worse condition aren't a coincidence?" Dwayne asked, ignoring the younger man's miffed look.

But her nod said enough So he's noticed too, she thought, wishing inwardly that she had paid attention rather than oversleeping and missing out on the weaving lessons by always picking up words of gossip. As the group of four walked through the castle, the men behind her followed the etiquette not only to avoid the punishing looks of the king but also to avoid setting a bad example for themselves.

The closeness they had to the high-born lady was already cause for enough talk…of any kind and relation. ,,Another tournament, even if one was made for you only a few moons ago, princess," the commander of the guard murmured in a calm voice and leaned towards her, ,,Perhaps, but I doubt for me my father the king will have made decisions without me on the council… a council without a place for me," she added and suppressed a sigh.

She was the royal blood, her father's heir and just because she didn't have a tail between her legs and carried a sword, such talk of politics and trade was none of her business, ,,It would only bore you and fill your head with more nonsense daughter" were her father's words as he ordered her out of the room in front of all the councilors, a shame she took from him to this day.

She loved her father and knew what he had been through, what burdens lay on his shoulders and yet sometimes he could not see the potential, as she felt, because of his blindness to her body.

Shaking off the thoughts, they walked down the stone stairs, the light of the sun present in the castle, but the further down into the cells they went, into the corridors of horror of his rooms, the darker and colder only the torches and lanterns soaked in fire showed the way.

A path they all knew they all knew the way to the one small room he usually stayed in when he wasn't putting his fingers to metal bloody instruments of torture.

The two guards downstairs saluted and let the princess through but closed the way for the other three, ,,Let them through I command it" she muttered with a sigh and a wave of her hand she appreciated the loyalty of the guards there had been enough fights in the time the king had been killed by his guards and worse.

They had all been down here before, the chill familiar and the muffled voices behind the renewed door told them all they needed. Walking into the small room where Marko lived, complete with bed, table, boxes and a few other things, seemed almost like a mouse cage as the four of them made their way inside. ,,Lovely and snug," commented David, who had already banged his sword against the furniture several times and Dwayne's whip caught on one of the chairs, ,,Now normally our bat comes to us not us to him," interjected Paul who sat down on the table and the princess sat down on the bed and was surprised to find no knife there

They kept quiet, either not knowing whether to comment on the bare furnishings, Paul's frayed hair with scattered hay still in it, Dwayne who was smiling too little again or David who was about to take out his pipe and smoke. ,,He seems to be doing his job well," she mumbled as they heard a particularly guttural cry of pain that was only amplified by the stone walls, which the three of them responded to with a ,,He's well, Princess," before it fell quiet again.

It was almost amusing whenever they were down here they hardly dared to speak or it took a moment it seemed like a good retreat from the duties and the sounds were a change from always just the hopeful fussing around.

But after a few more moments of the room becoming a tavern, David smoking, Paul making bad jokes, the princess lying on the bed and Dwayne tending to his carving, the door suddenly opened and Marko almost slammed the door in the juggler's face, ,,In the name of Satan what's going on here….good day princess," he added, bowing to his lady who rose from his bed more hastily than anything else.

The blond curly hair lips immediately curled into a grin which, with the blood spattering his face and hands, gave him a truly gruesome but above all adorable expression. ,,What an honor to be visited down here, is there something you need a tooth? Finger? An arm? Or an ear?" he enumerated and she looked in the small bag at his side as he tucked it away in a box, knowing that he was hiding his little specials there.

Something macabre, but it sent a pleasant shiver down her spine as she thought back to the harsh stories he had told her. The young torturer Marjo had taken over the trade at an age when others might have gotten sick of it, but no, he was just the devil himself and had been able to get lots and lots of information that way.

Blond hair like an angel, a calm spirit among new people and enemies but just as big a fool as Paul was when he was with them. ,,An ear for the dogs next time," Dwayne murmured and after a short search Marko tossed him a small leather bag in which the said object was probably located. ,,Extra big and tough for the hellhounds," Marko winked and joined David who put his pipe away so as not to envelop them all even more in smoke, especially so that the lovely rose scent of his lady didn't evaporate.

Marko placed his instruments on a cloth, the blood and pieces of hair and skin were visible on it but it hardly bothered anyone, ,,So why do you need me princess?" he asked and his bright eyes were on the dress wearer who was smoothing her fabric.

,,Have you heard or heard of any information about a tournament, an attack, an ambush or something big?" she asked, getting to the point, unable to shake the feeling inside her that something else was going to happen, something that would affect them all.

Marko leaned his head against the cool wall and thought for a moment while he cleaned his hands and face with a cloth, ,,No, no attack or ambush, at most smaller lords your father's concern. The tournament season is still here but no whispering there either unless-" he was about to continue talking when the door flew open and poor Paul was trapped behind it as a guard stood in front of it, ,,The king wants to see you princess immediately," he said, not caring about the grumbling Paul holding his nose.

What does he want now? the question popped into her head and she nodded, walking past her friends who nodded at her and David assured her, ,,We'll wait for you princess" and the men dismissed her with a bow before she walked back up the stairs alone, past the flames of the torches, through the corridors adjusting her clothes and jewelry and hoping the smoke wasn't too obvious before the door to the throne room was opened for her, ,,The princesses of the realm my king! " echoed through the grand hall with its tapestries, statues of her ancestors and weapons belonging to legendary heroes.

Moving forward, she curtseyed to her father and was surprised to see several advisors and a messenger standing in front of the throne, who greeted her with a greeting. ,,You wanted to see me father?" she asked and saw Max rise from the iron throne and come towards her, a gentle smile playing around his lips and giving him a few wrinkles around the eyes, he seemed to have truly grown older in recent years.

He came to her, suddenly clasping her hands and pointing to a hidden screen, ,,I know it will come somewhat suddenly but the kingdom will not be ruled by me forever. I'm getting older and times are changing and you are my only flesh and blood" he began, not paying attention to her increasingly confused look and the nodding of her innermost tightening more and more Surprises were one thing but this morning's conversation was something else entirely.

,,Yes, Father, but please, what would your Grace like to get out of this?" she asked as he walked around her again, his still cheerful smile fading slightly and he let out a heavy sigh before placing a hand on her cheek, a gesture he only made when he was burdened by something.

A gesture that only made her more uncomfortable and the words that followed gave her a blow that knocked the ground out from under her feet. ,,I as the king have decided to give you my legacy after my death my lands, titles and coins will go to you…as soon as you have consummated the marriage with Prince Michael of House Emerson when the full moon appears" the words left the king's lips, a command, an act of torture for his daughter whose own confidence turned to shock.

She backed away a few steps but her father reached for her hand instead and pulled her in front of the painting as with a wave of his hand the cloth was lifted and she looked into the portrait of a young man perhaps the age of her friends curly hair and a hauxh of a smile on the painting…but above all it was one thing not her wish and desire.

It was not her decision, her heart that did not desire him, her love and body should not belong to him, not in a few days as she realized with horror that there were only a few days until the full moon. ,,Isn't he a wonderful match for you? I heard he has a younger brother and his mother is said to be very spirited," the king continued to talk to her, seemingly oblivious to her fears and emotions, instead pulling her into an embrace when she could do nothing but nod appathetically.

Because in the end what was left for her to do being a princess had its advantages, you had more power than others, you were treated well but the marriage, the privilege and honor, the childbed was what she suffered…she gave her heart to someone she didn't want because the heart in this story already belongs to four people who protected it.

In this story that begins with a once upon a time, there always has to be a twist, a twist that would happen. A marriage between two houses, old and powerful, harbors not only happiness and fortune but also danger, a danger that lies in the air like the words written on these pages.

But what it will be that happens to her and who dries her tears who knows…maybe it will be the handsome commander with his urge to protect her or the calm and engaging hunter who would follow her everywhere, maybe even the nar whose jokes always make her laugh and whose jokes have always accompanied her or is her heart in the end with the highly skillful torturer with his stories that rob her of sleep.

Which heart did the princess choose in this story at the end between the four who have been with her all her life or the promised prince charming who might not be so horrible after all? Who should know except the eyes that will be found in the next chapter?

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@misslavenderlady , @palomam18 , @rl-nancyholbrook , @ghoulgeousimmaculate , @oceansrose2002

#the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys paul #the lost boys marko #the lost boys max #the lost boys lucy #the lost boys michael #the lost boys sam #the lost boys frog brothers #mini series #alternate universe #tlb david x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #tlb paul x reader #tlb marko x reader #tlb michael x reader

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bohemian-nights · 2 years ago

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Arlī(Anew)Chapter 7

Word Count: ~9,934

Rating: 18+

Warnings⚠️: Uncle/niece incest; violence; blood; minor smut

Description: Love is not a precursor to marriage. Nor is it a requirement. Love matches are rare. Even rarer are those who grow to love one another.

AN: This story takes place from episode 5 onward. I’ve changed things up a bit but I’ve kept the timeline intact.

Sorry this took a little longer than expected. The holidays are crazy 🫠

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

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131 AC- Dragonstone

Marriage is an institution. It is the oldest institution in existence. The very foundation of polite and chivalrous society. It can be characterized by duty, affection, and fidelity though the latter two are rare to find in most unions. Love is not a precursor to marriage. Nor is it a requirement. Love matches are rare. Even rarer are those who grow to love one another.

For those fortunate enough to be born high in society we marry those who we are told to. Duty and love are like oil in water in most unions. Perhaps the institution is kinder to those who are less fortunate. Matrimony can be a joyful gift to those lucky enough to have been blessed by the Maiden, but so few are.

Liberation within its sacred vows is few and far between. This is the case for women especially. A woman is first the property of her father and then later her husband. Devoting her life to both. She lives in service of others. To be a devoted daughter to birth her husband's heirs. When she fails that duty she is shamed. Cast aside if not physically she is mentally iced out. She is looked down upon. Reprimanded for her faults, but when she succeeds she is the embodiment of the mother herself.

Marriage of course has its benefits for women as well as men. It offers the chance for a legacy. A way of serving past death. Cheating the very nature of mortality. Life is fleeting, but we can live from beyond the grave. Through our children, we go on. We endure for them so that we may preserve in some fashion or another. It brings legitimacy to children created within its union. The role of marriage at its heart. We all have our parts to play.

Naerys went into her marriage with the same expectations as most highborn women. She did not ask for much. She knew her duty. She was to bear her husband a male heir and at least a spare. She was to educate her children in the customs of old Valyria. If the Gods willed it she would fill the halls of Dragonstone with plenty of children to go around.

There had been a time when she had seemingly failed this duty, that the princess had thought she would have to share her husband with another, but that time had thankfully passed. Though doubts lingered in the back of her mind, the past was the past. She could not change it. Nor would she wish to. Her deck had been set. The cards had been handed out. She would make the best of the hand that she had been dealt. It had not been a bad hand in the end.

Where the first five years of her marriage had been hectic, full of uncertainty and pain, the past eleven years of Naerys' marriage had been as close to felicity as she had ever reached. Daemon was a loyal and attentive husband. Though he could be hot-headed and brash he was a passionate and devoted man. She could not complain. She had more than she could have ever dreamed of.

Nothing could beat her husband's smile when he was thrilled with her or something else that excited him. The way his violet eyes crinkled up at the corners brought light to his pale face. His boisterous laughter filled her up, warming her up on cold nights as he held her in his arms after a heated round of lovemaking.

Her uncle's consideration of her needs was unparalleled. Over the years he had grown to value her opinion above all others. Seeking her council for decisions or problems that arise with their vessels and Dragonstone’s small folk. The day-to-day of their household was left mostly in Naerys' care. An arrangement that worked out the best for both.

Rarely did Daemon miss their evening rides on Silverwing and Caraxes around their island. Nor the chance to recount each other’s days over a cup of warm mulled wine while they sat by the fire. The Targaryen couple relished the time that they spent in each other’s company. Whether it be sharing a simple meal in their chambers solar, reading texts of various natures to each other, or a shared bath to wash off the stress of the day. Daemon always made time for his little wife no matter how busy their days got.

When Naerys had given birth to Daenys and no sons had followed after she had grown weary, her husband had not seemed to mind that his heir came in the form of a girl. Her strength regrew from his conviction. Their daughter was a blessing from the Gods. A miracle that they cherished above all else. Anyone who asked the Rogue Prince’s true opinion on the issue of his lack of sons would receive a firm challenge. “Why would I wish for sons when I have my little dragon?” They would not make the mistake of questioning the prince again or his daughter's position as his heir.

A sweet sentiment, but Naerys had held out a silent hope that her womb would quicken again the first three years after Aenys birth. That the maesters had been wrong. That she would be able to give her husband a son and heir. Praying to the mother every time she lay with her husband and he released inside her that his seed would take, They had not been. By the fourth year after their son's tragic birth, it became clear that Daenys would remain their sole living child.

Daenys was a vivacious girl with a charming disposition. She excelled in needlepoint, dancing, and court etiquette as well as high Valyrian, literature, and ancient histories. She found politics and sums to be tedious, struggling especially with the latter, but she rarely gave her septa or Maester Orly's much trouble for it. Much to her father's disappointment, and her mother's relief, she did not enjoy swordplay, but she had grown to love archery almost as much as her daily rides upon the slender dragon she had named Moonbeam.

Though the young princess had her mother's looks she had inherited her father’s stubbornness. Preferring to do things as she saw fit though she could be persuaded to see the merits in others' opinions if she was given enough reason to. Daenys was a true daughter of House Targaryen. Every inch the Valyrian beauty, standing tall with her silver curls, honey complexion, and violet eyes she had inherited from her father. Her loveliness only grew with each passing name day. The young princess was shaping up to be a fine lady of impeccable breeding.

While Daenys may not have been an ideal heir due to her sex, no one could doubt her legitimacy or her position as Daemon’s successor. She had no brothers. No other siblings legitimate or otherwise. The young princess was the sole living natural-born child of both of her parents. There could be no question of who would inherit Dragonstone after her father would depart from this earth. This was not the case for her older cousin.

The question of legitimacy was presented with Rhaenyra. The presumed heir to the Iron Throne. The firstborn daughter of the king. Born from Viserys first marriage to his late cousin Aemma. Though Rhaenyra was undoubtedly her father's eldest child, the king had since remarried. Her stepmother had given birth to four children, three of whom were sons. Viserys long hoped for heirs. Their births should have pushed her further down the line of succession except they had not and the crown princess remained heir.

Every heir has certain expectations. The continuation of the family line is one of them. Under threat of disinheritance, Rhaenyra had been married to her Velaryon cousin the late Ser Laenor. In their many moons of marriage, she birthed three sons. The eldest two, Jaecerys and Lucerys, had been named the future heir of the Seven Kingdoms and the future Lord of Tides respectively. In the king's mind, his line and Rhaenyra’s position as the heir appeared secure.

Despite Naerys' cousin claiming each dark-haired pug-nosed son Rhaenyra bore, the question of the legitimacy clung to them. Ser Laenor’s proclivities were well known. Whether the two had tried to work past his urges if the Velaryon heir was truly sterile was not known to the realm at large, but regardless of the finer details, everyone knew who really fathered the realm’s delight’s children. They were unquestionably the baseborn sons of the crown princess sired by her late lover and good brother Ser Harwin Strong.

Lord Corlys and his lady wife Princess Rhaenys said nothing publically to contradict Rhaenyra’s son's parentage for the sake of their granddaughters. The little strong sister twins, Baela and Rhaena were set to marry Jace and Luke. The elder was to be the queen of the seven kingdoms while the younger lady of Driftmark was like her grandmother before her. Privately, it was obvious that Rhaenys was less than enthused at her good daughter's lack of discretion. The fact that she had turned to her late daughter's husband as a means to provide herself with heirs had further soured their relationship.

In the wake of Ser Laenor’s death, Rhaenyra and her children fled from Driftmark. I can not bear to be in the place where my husband has died. I am so alone here uncle. All I have are my sons. An excuse and a plea. It was what she wrote to Daemon. Keeping true to his word that there were to be no more secrets between he and his young niece-wife, the Rogue Prince read over the contents of the letter to Naerys as they were preparing for bed.

When he had finished, Naerys expected her uncle to return to his writing desk. Wasting no time to extend an invitation to Rhaenyra, he kissed the worry lines that had appeared on her forehead and tossed the letter into the fire. Pulling her silver coils back from her little brown face before he bent down to capture her sweet mouth in a kiss. He began to pull the loose tie to her gown to reveal the sheer gown underneath. She shivered in the cool night air that had seeped into their solar, but she did not suffer for long. Warming up under her husband’s amorous attention.

“Ao emagon daorun naejot zūgagon issa dōna riña.” You have nothing to fear, my sweet girl. Naerys' husband wrote back to Rhaenyra in the morning. He offered her their condolences once more, but he did not offer her a place by his side in Dragonstone’s halls.

Not receiving the reply she had hoped for, Rhaenyra and her sons made their way to the Vale. Having heard of her plight Jeyne Arryn, her cousin for her the princess's mother had been an Arryn, and Lady of the Eyrie offered her a place at her hearth.

The Warden of the East was a virtuous woman who held little love for those who sought to usurp a woman’s rightful position in favor of their male relatives. She knew all too well what it was like to be looked down upon for her sex. Her own cousin Ser Arnold Arryn had twice risen against her to claim her Inheritance.

Her opinion remained low among those who sought to replace her cousin as heir due to her sex and her children's questionable legitimacy. She dismissed the claims of Rhaenyra’s son's bastard status as harsh untruths. “Your sons have inherited the Arryn look, my dear princess.”

Lady Jeyne Arryn and the crown princess got on well enough with the exception of one subject. Prince Daemon Targaryen. Lady Arryn's distaste for the Rogue Prince had been well known. She had never held a high opinion of the man, but what little regard she had held vanished after the death of Lady Rhea Royce.

“She believes I killed that unfortunate woman who I happened to have been tied to for her inheritance, little one.” Her husband's first wife was a topic that only came up a handful of times in their marriage. It was for all intents and purposes a cold barren union that had embittered them both. The two had only slept together a handful of times and saw each other with little frequency. A stark contrast to the affections he held for his niece-wife.

Naerys sometimes wondered, mostly to herself, if her uncle had done away with Lady Rhea. True enough, Daemon was away from the Runestone at the untimely death of his first wife, but he hated the woman and he hated that he was not allowed to take another for a wife. He had wasted no time in demanding his baby niece's hand in marriage when she finally succumbed to her injuries. Flying to Driftmark to claim his prize for enduring a frigid marriage bed for so long.

Curiosity got the better of Naerys when she asked in a haze of lust and Dornish Red one night if he had. Daemon laughed before breathing into her ear as he thrust his middle and index fingers into her cunt to prolong her peak. Pulling out his digit from her overspent heat when she began to whimper. Bringing their combined spends to her slightly swollen lips. A love-drunk look overtook her husband's pale face when she eagerly suckled on the pads of his fingers. “If my brother had not let me have a taste of you I would have.”

Naerys had been told that Rhaenyra would hear no ill words against her beloved uncle. “It is not his fault dear cousin. My uncle would have never turned me away had it not been for another who has crawled in his bed and takes joy in whispering fables into his ear.” Lady Jeyne spoke no more on the subject.

The Eyrie for a time became a place of diversion for the crown princess. Her cousin was gracious enough to let her have a run of her own household. Giving her the freedom she so desired as long as she did not interfere in her role as Warden of the East.

Still, life in the Vale grew dull for Rhaenyra. The ancestral seat of House Arryn was beautiful, but a small remote castle. Served the purpose of defense well, but for entertainment, it fell short even in comparison to Dragonstone which sat in half isolation. Guests were few and far between besides the young lady Strong‘s who on occasion would fly upon Baela’s mount Moondancer to visit their betrotheds.

I confess that I have grown weary of this place. Though Lady Arryn is kind, the Eyrie is not home. The crown princess had written once again to their uncle. It was Naerys who extended the offer of a visit to Dragonstone’s shore. It was in part born out of her duty as a mother.

Daenys was fast approaching her fifteenth name day. The young princess was a beauty, an accomplished dragon rider, and possessed an overall sweet disposition. She did not lack for admirers, however, her eyes were firmly set upon her cousin Aemond. A fondness that was returned in kind.

“She’s too infatuated with him.” It was said as Daemon glared at Aemond from the high table as Aemond spun Daenys around the great hall during their nephew's last visit. “And you are encouraging it little one.” The Rogue Prince had tried to separate the two after Prince Aemond had asked for his daughter's hand in marriage. An act that had ended poorly.

“Iksan ojūdan mijegon zirȳla nuncle. Wed zȳhon naejot issa isse se tradition hen īlva lentor.” I am lost without her nuncle. Wed her to me in the tradition of our house. The young prince had promised her parents that he would not remove his future bride from all that she loved. Daenys preferred the quiet tranquility of Dragonstone’s smoky shores. The Red Keep with its gossip and foul air held little appeal for the princess. Aemond truth be told found his father’s court to be tiring. It was no place to raise children. He knew that all too well. This had been the final straw for the princess’s father.

“My dear nephew, I’d sooner wed my daughter to a pig than you. At least then we’d get a meal out of it.” Daemon sniggered at his nephew who had dropped down to his knees with his sword clasped firmly between his hands in a show of fealty. The older prince's face turned to stone as he sneered down at the red faced one eyed prince. Daemon ordered him to take leave from Dragonstone. “Your nursemaid will be missing you.” A pair of guards flanked Aemond on his involuntary march to Vhagar. Taking flight without so much as a being allowed a goodbye to his young love.

Daenys had given her parents the fright of their lives when she flew from Dragonstone in the middle of a storm without so much as a trace. They had begun to expect the worst until a raven arrived from the Red Keep informing Naerys and Daemon of their daughter's whereabouts. The young princess had made the trek in perilous weather, a course of action which her cousin had advised her not to undertake, to entreat upon her uncle’s goodwill. Surely he would force his brother's hand and allow their union to take place.

When the appeal was posed by the young lovers to the dying man he was said to have turned away from his son to gaze upon his young niece with a slight look of confusion. Taking her unblemished hand in his frail one with an apologetic smile on his face. “I do not think that is wise Naerys.”

The broken-hearted young princess was retrieved from the capital with haste by her father and barred from leaving so much as her chambers without the presence of at least one of her maids. Daemon threatened to send for her old septa, but Naerys was able to calm her husband. “It was a mistake. She has learned her lesson kepus.”

Daenys complied with her parents' demands without complaint, but she was a restless girl. Her spirit would rally again. She would not be satisfied until she had gained what she wanted and Aemond was unlikely to give in unless he was told to by the young princess herself. The will of youthful pride and passion could not be underestimated.

It came as no great surprise when Daenys came to her mother begging for her help. “Ziry mazverdagon issa sōpagon muña.” He makes me laugh mother. The young princess broke down into sobs as Naerys stroked her silver curls. “Nyke kostagon daor jikagon va mijegon zirȳla” I can not go on without him.

Daemon had not mellowed much with age. Remaining every bit as stubborn as the Rogue Prince of his youth. He disliked Aemond as a match for his daughter and his opinion of him was unlikely to change, but perhaps if Daenys affections were to transfer to another of another they could move past this. Young love was fickle enough. The first passions of youth could fade just as quickly as they began.

“It is good to be among family again uncle.” In the fortnight that Rhaenyra and her sons stayed in Dragonstone’s stone halls she had made herself quite at home. Taking up residence in the Sea Dragon tower, far enough away from Naerys and her family’s residence in the Stone Drum, the princess, and her children were given free roam of the place.

Naerys was reminded of the early days of her marriage when Rhaenyra had been a constant presence in their home, though to her relief her husband did not seem half as interested in his niece this time around. He in fact had left the entertainment of the crown princess to Naerys. “You brought her here little one.” Daemon had told her with a teasing smirk when she had grumbled about her cousin's ways. Having to sit through sewing circles, dinners, and gatherings with a pinched-faced Rhaenyra had been a less than joyous experience, but for Daenys she endured it.

“Joffrey has grown so very fond of Daenys.” The three Targaryens peered down from the courtyard rafters to gaze upon their children in the training yard below. Rhaenyra and Naerys stood on opposite sides of Daemon who had pulled Naerys hand in his. A sight that had drawn the older princess’s attention as revulsion was written clearly across her pale face.

The Rogue Prince echoed the crown princess’s sentiments as he continued to draw circles with his thumb into the back of his wife’s hand. “It is truly a shame that she has no brothers.” It is a shame that your wife has given you no sons. Naerys stifled, but that did not go unnoticed by Daemon.

“As it is a shame that you had no daughters.” The crown princess’s lilac eyes brightened for a moment before her uncle continued on. “Or silver-haired sons.” Rhaenyra gave a tight-lipped smile before making her excuses. Leaving back for the safety of her guest chambers in Sea Dragon tower.

That night Naerys confessed her plan to her husband. Joffrey had not been her first choice for her daughter's potential betrothed, but she had run out of options. Daenys had found fault with every boy she had tried to thrust their daughter's way. He is too dull mother or he is too arrogant or I hate his laugh. While Rhaenyra’s youngest son was a well-mannered boy, she did not know how much longer she could take from her cousin's leering presence.

“Send them away.” Daemon had laughed lightly as he pulled her into his lap. Placing his forehead to hers. “Īlva byka zaldrīzes does daor raqagon joffrey isse bona ñuhoso nor does ziry ūndegon zȳhon hae mirros tolī than nykeā mandia. Ziry jorrāelagon daor dīnagon nykeā bastard.” Our little dragon does not like Joffrey in that way nor does he see her as anything more than a sister. She need not marry a bastard.

Naerys had dreaded telling her cousin to leave from Dragonstone’s shores. She had never been good at confrontation. Preferring to avoid it at all costs. The princess had found silence to be the best course of action when dealing with something or someone unpleasant. In the end, there had been no need for her anguish over the issue.

Two ravens arrived at Dragonstone. The first from Driftmark. The second from King's Landing. Both told the same tale. Lord Corlys Velaryon had fallen ill. A fever. Sudden and unexpected.

The Velaryon lord could not leave his bed. His wife Princess Rhaenys and their eldest granddaughter, Lady Baela, worked tirelessly to nurse him back to health. Rhaena spent most of her days praying for her grandfather's recovery in Hide Tide’s sept. It was when his condition took a turn for the worst that his brother chose to strike. The balance that they had crafted was steadily collapsing.

Ser Vaemond had always held firm to the belief that it was he and not Rhaenyra’s sons who was the rightful heir of the Driftwood Throne. He was Lord Corlys’ only living brother. He was the commander of house Velaryon’s navy. He was a true Velaryon with the undiluted blood of old Valyria running through his.

Though he had some minor disagreements with his nephews all had been in agreement that Lucerys Velaryon and his brothers were really bastards born of Strong seed. They were unfit to rule over them as the Lord of the Tides nor would they suffer through the embarrassment of house Velaryon being headed by a bastard welp of a whore. The Velaryon men had put aside their differences in support of their uncle's claim. It was with one unifying mind that Ser Vaemond, his sons, and his five nephews set sail for the Red Keep.

Naerys had always suspected that Ser Vaemond and Ser Otto Hightower had struck up a bargain with one another. They had a common enemy. The Driftwood Throne and the Iron Throne could be theirs respectively if Rhaenyra’s heirs were officially declared illegitimate. Aemond’s letter to Daenys all, but confirmed their unspoken agreement.

Tell your mother not to worry sweetling. My grandsire will be proceeding over Ser Vaemond’s petition. The king is too ill to leave his bed. Mother believes that we have worn him out from our little ambush. Naerys doubted that her uncle had been informed of the events that were transpiring around him.

Rhaenyra had been unfortunately present when Daenys had been made to read the letter aloud when they broke their fast. “I beg you uncle if you had or still have any love for me please save my boys.” With tears streaming down her face she implored Daemon to see to her children's “safety.” The crown princess’s sons were sweet true enough, but there was not enough sentiment to warrant defensive action. Their lives were not forfeit if they were publicly declared bastards.

Daemon agreed to it. “I would want Viserys to do the same for Daenys' little one.” His simple reply when his wife had asked why. Naerys did not object. If it gave her husband piece of mind that he had done what he could for his great nephews and their mother she would not dare try to sway or guilt him into changing his mind.

It had been suggested by Rhaenyra that she stay within the confines of Dragonstone when they were gearing up to leave for the Red Keep. “We will not be very long dear cousin.” She took all too much pleasure in ordering her around as she moved to smooth down imaginary lines on their uncle's riding leathers.

“My wife could talk some sense into him niece.” Daemon flicked Rhaenyra’s hand away. Naerys knew that her husband could care less for the fate of Ser Vaemond or his kin. However, he was not unaware of his niece-wife’s sentiments. For all his faults the Velaryon knight had been true to Naerys. She could not remember her father, but she could recall every instance that Vaemomd had tried to serve in his absence. She had to try to save him from his own self if she could. Naerys did not spare her aunt another look as she climbed upon Silverwing’s back and took to the skies.

The Dragonstone party arrived in Kings Landing well before Ser Vaemond and Alicent had been the ones to welcome them when they had arrived in the courtyard of the Red Keep. The queen gave a curt greeting to her good daughter before pulling Naerys to the side reiterating what her son had written in his letter. “The king is ill. We do what we can, but it is in the Mother's hands. My father will be the one to make the final verdict.”

Rhaenyra demanded to be taken to see her father almost immediately once the children had left to find some amusement. “I wish to see him.” Naerys could not blame her. If she was in her position she would request the same. The crown princess's visits to her father in the ten years since she had left had been minimal. The Red Keep of her youth was gone. The emblems and regalia of house Targaryen had been replaced mostly by the religious doctrine of the Seven. One was hard-pressed to recognize the castle.

Rhaenyra tried to leave Naerys waiting in the solar outside of the king's bed chambers, but Daemon chastised the crown princess with a frown upon his brow. “She is my wife Rhaenyra.” With a glare thrown in her cousin's direction, she conceded, not even bothering to hide distaste at being reminded of her position in comparison to the Lady of Dragonstone.

True enough the king was confined to his sick bed. The room was kept cool and the shudders were drawn so as to keep the sunlight from streaming in. A gauze covered half his face and the half that was exposed was gaunt and pocket marked with sores.

Viserys had not even recognized his own daughter until she had identified herself. “I am here with Daemon father.” Naerys ignored the omission as Daemon took her small hand in his. As he gazed down at his elder brother she was reminded of the worried look he wore during Aenys birth all those moons ago. The king seemed to come alive upon seeing his daughter and brother's faces together no doubt, but It was not long before a coughing fit overtook him. They left him to the care of maesters then.

Rhaenyra tried to collapse into Daemon when they exited the king's bed chambers. Feigning fatigue and exhaustion as she tried to push aside Naerys hand so that she may be encircled in their uncle’s arms, but the man brushed her off. The crown princess had to grab hold of a nearby chair to keep from falling. Turning to his wife he gave her hand a squeeze and placed a kiss on her soft cheek. “I’ll check on our daughter.” The man still looked like a lost boy as he made his way to search for their daughter. Daenys would set him to rights or at least provide him with enough of a distraction so as to keep his mind off of his brother.

The rest of the day leading up to the petitions passed by slowly. Princess Rhaenys, Lady Baela, and Lady Rhaena arrived not long after the Dragonstone party. While Naerys was glad to see her aunt and little cousin it was not their arrival that she anxiously waited upon. It was not until well in the afternoon that Ser Vaemond and his party finally arrived. At the Lady of Dragonstone’s behest, the queen had brought the Velaryon knight to his niece's guest chambers after she and her father briefly spoke with him. A courtesy that she would not forget.

“You are a Targaryen niece, this does not concern you.” Ser Vaemond tried to dismiss Naerys fears, but she would not let him. She had no dragon dreams, but something told her that this would not end well. The Stranger encircled the Red Keep. The princess could feel that it was not for the ailing king. “I have already received a lecture from one woman of your house. I will not listen to another.” Rhaenys was well-meaning, but she was not a Velaryon. Her interest lay with her blood the Lady Strongs. She would support the bastard's claim as long as her granddaughters sat beside them.

“Was my mother, your sister not a lady of house Velaryon? Was my grandmother, your aunt, not a lady of house Velaryon as well?” Naerys may have the blood of the dragon, but she was just as much if not more so a Velaryon. “Se uēpa, se drēje, se nēdenka.” The old, the true, the brave. House Velaryon’s words. Words she carried in her heart alongside Fire and blood.

“I am your blood. I beseech you uncle. Do not do this.” Naerys would not see the ruin of her mother's house due to her uncle’s ego. This scheme all hinged upon a delicate balance that could topple over at any moment. A set of what-ifs that could turn against him as quickly as they had turned for him. Rhaenyra may be a woman with bastards for heirs, but she was not without her allies. All it took would be a word or two in her favor and Ser Vaemond would be done for.

The Velaryon commanders' friends were few and far between. Ser Otto was loyal to what would put him closer to the crown. The shrewd hand of the king would abandon her uncle without so much as blinking the moment it no longer served him to be his ally. The queen had been kind to her, but her kindness only extended so far. Her interest lay with her children.If she thought that lending her hand would endanger their position or herself she too would turn her back on Ser Vaemond.

Daemon would not speak in support of Ser Vaemond. To do that would mean that he had abandoned Rhaenyra and her cause. He would not defend her Velaryon uncle unless Naerys were to somehow tie her fate to his. Her husband would stop her before it came to that. If Lord Corlys were to recover, there was no telling what he might do to his brother upon finding out that he had “usurped” his chosen heir. It was not too late to turn back, but time was running out.

“It is for house Velaryon that I do this niece.” Ser Vaemond made his way to the door, but his violet eyes softened. A rare moment for the proud man. Naerys was reminded of when she had been a girl. A distant memory of her letting her cry into his arms during her mother’s funeral played back in her head. “Nyke would dōrī deny bona ao issi aōha muñnykeā’s tala. Gaomagon daor ivestragī aōla forget bona.” I would never deny that you are your mother’s daughter. Do not let yourself forget that.

Ser Vaemond was lost to her as he left her chambers with a sad smile, clearing his throat before softly closing the heavy oak door. His fate lay with fickle Gods who had hardly been known to show mercy. Naerys crumbled to her knees as she let herself give in to her emotions.

The petition had been surprisingly short, but the ramifications were not so. Naerys was made to stand near Rhaenyra and her sons. The pale woman ambushed her on the way to the Great Hall. She reached out a hand out to grab hold of her forearm. “I need your strength aunt.”

Wearing a smile as her claws dug into her cousin's skin the crown princess dragged her across the Red Keep as if she were her lap dog. By the time they made it to where Daemon and Daenys stood on the opposite side of the queen and her three eldest children in the throne room Naerys felt her arm go numb from the pain.

Rhaenyra only let go of her grip when Daemon barked at her to release his niece-wife. Taking hold of her forearm to soothe the blotchy brown skin. “Look what you've done.” It looked worse than it felt, but Naerys was likely to be left with a dark bruise by morning. The crown princess apologized, stumbling over her words under her uncle’s dark stare. She was spared the worst of the Rogue Prince’s anger when Ser Otto called for the petitions to begin.

Ser Vaemond was called first to speak. Blood was his argument. Blood is what it all came down to. His blood was pure. The blood of the seas, the blood of old Valyria. He was his brother's rightful heir, not some bastard boy with no blood ties to House Velaryon.

Rhaenyra tried to cut the Velaryon knight off. Reminding the court that Luke was the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon. Lord Corlys' only son. He was a Velaryon just as much as his great uncle. His claim was the true one, but he was a Velaryon in name only. The queen reminded her that she would have her chance to speak. The crown princess quieted with a glower at Ser Vaemond who sported a self-assured smirk across his dark brow, but it was she who the Gods shined upon.

The king was announced not a moment after Rhaenyra began her defense of her son. The throne room went silent. The chamber's occupants and petitioners stood in shock as they gazed upon their ailing king. Even the crown princess looked surprised at her father's sudden appearance.

In the light of the throne room, Viserys looked worse than he had in his shrouded bed chambers. He wore a golden mask strapped to his frail wispy head in replace of the gauze that had covered the decaying side of his face. He stood low with the help of his cane hobbling over to the throne. A startled Ser Otto had no choice, but to hand judgment over to the king.

All attempts at assistance were shooed away until Viserys dropped his crown. Daemon swooped in to aid his brother up the steps leading to the Iron throne. Placing his crown upon his head when he finally sat upon that infernal chair. The brothers exchanged a look before her husband made his way back to where they stood. Naerys knew that all was lost for her uncle.

The king had more of his wit than he appeared. From where he stood Driftmarks succession was settled. Naerys glanced over to see Alicent’s face mirroring her own unease. The princess went to clutch at her daughter who returned her grip with a comforting squeeze.

The king called upon Rhaenys to speak. She was the only one who knew what her husband wanted. She would speak for the dying man. All eyes turned to her. It would be on her word that would deal the final blow.

She might have been swayed to support her good-brother had not Viserys arrived. The queen that never was would not have protested too much had Ser Vaemond offered her one of his eldest grandsons for Lady Baela. As long as her granddaughters, her blood, was not cheated of their inheritance she would not have cared who sat claimed the title of Lord of the Tides. It is what Naerys would do, but the king had arrived.

It came as no great surprise when Rhaenys reiterated her and her husband's support of Lucerys' claim. Calling the boy Ser Laenor’s true-born son. Reminding the court that her granddaughters were to wed Rhaenyra’s sons. Lord Corlys’ blood would appear to sit upon the Driftwood Throne twice over. The matter was once again settled with Viserys reaffirming his grandson’s position as heir of Driftmark upon his grandfather’s death.

Or at least it would have been settled had Naerys uncle been able to put aside his vanity. Ser Vaemond could have walked, but he would not give in so easily. He would not allow anyone, especially a king who championed his daughter at the expense of his own sons, to dictate the fate of House Velaryon. His sons and nephews echoed his protestations.

Naerys tried to go to her uncle, but Daemon grabbed her uninjured arm. Pulling her into her before bending down and whispering into her ear. “Bisa iksos daor ao vīlībagon byka mēre.” This is not your fight little one.

The king warned Ser Vaemond. Reminding him that Lucerys was the grandson of a king. His grandson. The Velaryon knight should have remembered his place as the second son of a second house of Valyria, but he still would not fold. The Velaryons may not have dragons, but they had the blood of old Valyria flowing through their veins as well. They had survived centuries of trials and were stronger for it. They would not be brought low if Vaemond Velaryon had anything to say about it.

“Her children are BASTARDS!” Shock once again rained across the throne room as Ser Vaemond roared the accusation at Rhaenyra and her sons. The color had drained from the crown prince's face as she scowled at the Velaryon knight. Naerys felt her heart quicken as she squirmed in Daemon's hold. “And she is a whore!” Time seemed to speed up and slow down. Everything happened all at once

The king called for Ser Vaemond’s tongue. His daughter for his head. It was Rhaenyra who got her wish. Calling upon Daemon to carry out the sentence. The Rogue Prince glared at her as his wife clutched onto the arms he had wrapped around her. He turned both her and Daenys into his chest so that they would not see the Kingsguard who struck off the Velaryon knight's head. A clean break. The great hall's occupants flinched away from the blood spray. Naerys felt her own blood rush through her ears as she turned back around to face what was left of her uncle and the court.

Ser Vaemond’s sons, Daeron and Daemion stood frozen in shock. Ser Otto and Alicent, who had done the same as Daemon in shielding Helaena, looked horrified at the sight of the severed head which had landed a few feet away from them. Aegon had turned his head to avoid staring at the headless knight's body. The warm pool of blood nearly touched his boots. His brother wore a startled expression on his pale face, but he was not able to turn his silver head away from what was once Vaemond’s head before it and the rest of his remains were gathered to be fed to Syrax.

The hall descended into chaos as protests from Naerys' Velaryon cousins were shouted out at the king and Rhaenyra. Ser Maltine and Ser Rhogar, the oldest of the lot, led the charge. Their uncle was a knight of house Velaryon. He deserved a proper trial not whatever this farce had been.

Ser Vaemond had been guilty of nothing except daring to speak the truth and claiming what was rightfully his. The princess’s sons were bastards. Everyone could see that with their dark hair and pug noses. There was not a drop of Velaryon blood in them. No dark Valyrian gentility or grace that those of house Velaryon possessed. They looked more Strong than their true-born lady sisters. Rhaenys clutched both her granddaughters closer to her then. Staring down her good nephews with a stone face. Daring them to speak another word on Baela or Rhaena.

There were no other words to be spoken. At least not by Naerys' cousins. The five Velaryon brothers were seized by members of the Kingsguard. One by one Viserys ordered their tongues to be cut out. No one uttered a word in their favor. Not even Daeron and Daemion who still stood paralyzed from their father's beheading. Their shock no doubt spared them from joining in their cousin's fates.

For the second time within the span of less the posturing of the overly ambitious could have ended there, but when one feels above even the Gods it is hard to stop them. Viserys was on the verge of dismissing the court when Rhaenyra chose to strike.

“My aunt should be questioned, your grace.” Rhaenyra moved over to position herself at the foot of her father's throne. Bending her head slightly in a mockery of fear as her voice trembled with what Naerys supposed was her best attempt at unshed tears. She should have anticipated that her cousin would not miss the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

“For what reason, niece.” Daemon spat the words at Rhaenyra. Viserys echoed his inquiry. Standing up as best as he could to gaze down at his brother and daughter. “What crime has my wife committed?” The crown princess did not flinch as her uncle moved his hand to Dark Sister as he walked toward her with a dark glimmer. One could hear a needle drop as the hall held its breath.

“For conspiring with the late Ser Vaemond to usurp my son's rightful place as heir to the Driftwood Throne.” Penitent was not a look that suited her cousin. It merely came off as posturing. Naerys held her tongue. She would not let pride be her downfall as it had her uncle. She would not let her words be used against her though she did not hide her disdain at the show her cousin was putting on. Not even the king appeared to believe his daughter's tale. Only a fool would believe her accusations. She would let her be her own destruction

“You were there when your daughter received that letter uncle.” Rhaenyra turned her lilac gaze towards her second-born half-brother briefly before turning her attention back to her uncle. Reaching out a hand to calm him. To make him see her reason, but Daemon was not moved.

“You saw how she reacted.” Daenys stirred at the mention of herself and the attacks on her mother's character, but Naerys stayed her daughter. Rhaenyra wanted a reaction from them. The younger princess would not allow her cousin to gain one up on her.

“A frightened niece concerned for her uncle’s safety, that is what you saw. I would expect you to know the sentiment well.” Daemon's grip tightened on his sword. Twisting it slightly within his grasp. “Ser Vaemond raised her since she was a girl. Have you forgotten that? It was not an attack on you and your sons and you know that Rhaenyra.”

“She has forgotten her place uncle!” Naerys did not have to wait long for her cousin to spiral. Her patience had one out in the face of Rhaenyra’s petulance. “Questioning the legitimacy of Luke means to question the legitimacy of his brother, the future king! To question my right to my father's throne. She knows the truth!”

The emotion was thick in Rhaenyra’s voice though Naerys doubted that it came from a place of true sorrow. “She stands to gain everything from this and yet you defend her!” Daemon. It always came back to her husband. Her cousin would never leave her alone as long as her husband remained outside of her hold, but her threats and schemes would only work if the man himself willingly went along with them.

“What do you stand to gain from this Rhaenyra?” Daemon sneered down at his niece. Luring over her as his violet eyes blazed with barely contained fury. Some members of the Kingsguard went to unsheathe their swords in defense of their princess, but Viserys ordered them to hold their ground. “Everything you have ever wanted I imagine. You truly do not see yourself. Be careful what you sow sweet niece.”

“Enough of this!” The king bellowed, standing up from his throne with as much celerity as he could manage in his poor condition. Weariness was evident on his cadaverous face. “You all will cease your bickering at once. The matter is dealt with. There will be no more talk of this. Naerys has committed no crimes except that of acting like a frightened child.”

Viserys turned his attention to his young niece and grandson. “Your daughter is still in need of a husband brother as is Joffrey in need of a wife Rhaenyra.” Daenys paled. Her mother had to tighten her grip on her so that she would not collapse under the weight that was yet to come. From the corner of her eye Naerys spied Aemond stiffening at his father's words. His pale eye landed on Rhaenyra’s son who shifted under his young uncle's glower.

The king seemed to miss the rage upon his second son as he managed a half smile showing off an assortment of rotting and missing teeth in his gummy mouth. “Have them wed after Lucerys and Rhaena.” With that, he dismissed the court. Inviting, or ordering, his family to a private dinner in his apartments so that they may finally put to rest the last of the bad blood that lay between them over good food, drink, and merriment.

Naerys had not realized she had held her breath until they had left the stifling walls of the Red Keep's great hall. The princess tried to catch the eye of her late uncle’s sons, but they remained in a daze as they headed for their fleet that would take them back to Driftmark’s shores with their now silent cousins. Rhaenys and her granddaughters trailed after them, no doubt sending them off before they would ready for tonight’s feast. Daemon ushered her and Daenys back to their chambers before they could be ambushed by either Aemond or Rhaenyra.

The first held his sister's hand as he turned his head towards their daughter's departing figure. His mother and grandsire trying to gain his attention. The latter stood with her sons flanked by two members of her father's Kingsguard. No doubt the king put them there as an act of caution. Her eyes darted with want between her uncle and irritation at her cousin.

“I will not marry him. I will not. I shall not.” Daenys repeated. Her violet eyes watered over as she turned her gaze toward where she had last seen her one-eyed prince. The willowy princess had to be held by both of her parents lest she bolt off. “Gaomagon daor mazverdagon issa dīnagon zirȳla kepa.” Do not make me marry him father. Daemon shushed their daughter. It was not a discussion they would have in front of prying eyes within the king's halls.

Naerys had wanted to leave the Red Keep. “I can not stay here. I wish to go home kepus. Now.” The princess did not care if she sounded like a child. She did not want to be here where she was picked apart or where her daughter was made to play along with petty ruses. Where Rhaenyra watched her as if she was the prey waiting to be slaughtered.

Her husband simply gave her a sad smile pulling her silver coils back from her brown face to place a kiss of placation on her forehead. Daemon promised that they would leave in the morning. It was better to indulge the dying man than to make an enemy of him on his deathbed.

They would sort out the issue of Daenys betrothal once they were within the safety of their own stone walls. After all, it was likely that his brother would die before she would be forced to marry Rhaenyra’s bastard. Naerys would have protested had she not seen the rage still in her uncle's eyes. He was not so easy to forgive her cousin's games at court.

Dinner that evening was a strange affair. The tension and disquietude from the petition proceedings had yet dissipated. The Stranger still clung to the foul air of the Red Keep. It was as if a pot had been left on the fire too long and its contents would boil over at any moment. Burning all those who happened to be within reach.

All were in attendance, except Rhaenys. Her granddaughters apologized for their grandmother’s absence. Claiming that the older princess was fatigued from the stress of the journey as well as the care of her husband.

Viserys called for his family to put aside their grievances for his sake. Pulling off his golden mask so that they may gaze upon his true form. Naerys did her best to hide her revulsion at the sight. She had to grab a hold of her husband who sat to her right to regain her composure. Her uncle had become a walking corpse. The king's right eye was lost. The cavernous tissue of his socket stood in its place. One could see straight clear into his corroded mouth from the flesh and muscle that had long since wasted away. Her uncle would not be among them for much longer.

A mummery of goodwill was exchanged between the factions of Viserys family. First between Alicent and Rhaenyra who toasted to one another and their respective houses. After a minor scuffle over a pass made at Lady Baela by Aegon, Jace toasted his uncle's good health. Recollecting their misspent youths with hope for friendship between them in the future. Alicent’s eldest grumbled in agreement.

Helaena toasted to her little cousin's future marriages.“It isn’t so bad, mostly. He just ignores you. Except sometimes when he’s drunk!” The only sincerity among the farcicality. A round of chortles passed between her grandsire and Daemon. The rest of the guests in attendance wore a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and horror at the princess’s speech.

The mood lightened for a time. Though Naerys remained disillusioned with all that was around. She would not celebrate after all she had witnessed. Shoving the food pushed in front of her aside. Daemon’s eyes softened, but he did not say anything. Merely taking her hand in his to caress the back of it. She could not eat with a heavy half frightened heart.

The king called for music. Dancing commenced with Jace asking for Helaena’s hand which she eagerly accepted. Her husband was more interested in the wine in his cup than his wife who was led across the king's solar by their nephew. Joffrey looked as if he might follow his elder brother's lead with his newly betrothed, but when his eyes met his one-eyed uncle's glare he thought better of it.

All too soon Visery was taken ill by his exertion after the day’s events. Not a moment after he was carried off to bed a pig was placed in front of Aemond. What possessed him Naerys did not know, but Luke laughed at the sight of his uncle’s irritation. Old wounds had reopened. The merriment and masquerading stopped. The pot finally boiled over.

The one-eyed prince called for a final tribute. Raising his glass, an action that his elder brother readily copied, to toast to his nephew's health, before drawling on. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.” Daenys let out a little giggle though thankfully Naerys did not think that anyone heard apart from herself. The air became thick with apprehension. Jace dared him to repeat his words, but Aemond was not intimidated by the younger prince. “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

A brawl ensued between the Strong boys and their uncles. Jace threw the first punch, though Aemond did not so much as stumble from it. The dark-haired prince slid across the floor from his uncle’s shove in retaliation. Luke made to get up from his chair, but he was pushed down by Aegon into a serving platter.

Joffrey was to join his brothers, but Daenys held his hand to keep him from the fray. The self-willed Baela had to be held back by her own twin sister Rhaena. Guards had to restrain Jace and Luke as Alicent chastised her son for his lack of restraint, but that did not stop his taunts.

The children had to be sent to their rooms. Aemond would not leave for his own quarters until Daemon made his way over to him. Whispering something unintelligible in Valyrian to his nephew with a slight smirk on his pale brow. The younger prince backed down with a huff of annoyance. Leaving from his father's solar with a lurching gait.

Alicent looked, but Daemon wasted no time in grabbing hold of his wife’s hand. “We are leaving little one.” Her husband bent down to give her a small smile. Naerys felt lighter as he led her back to their own chambers. Imagining the smoky shores of her birth. They should have left Rhaenyra to defend herself, but it mattered not now.

“Uncle.” Rhaenyra called out running after them. One could never get rid of her. She was like a rat clinging to a scrap of wood after a shipwreck. “My father is ill. He needs you. He needs us.” With each word, she sounded more out of breath than the last. “ We can not leave now!”

“Do not worry niece.” Daemon had not slowed his stride as he brought them to a brisk pace. His long legs did most of the work for his wife whose short legs could not keep up. Rhaenyra had height on Naerys but she had grown soft in the belly after Joffrey's birth. She easily grew breathless at their speed. “We will be leaving, not you. You may stay here with Viserys if you like. I think it would do him some good. The Gods know what that Hightower woman has done to him.”

“This den of vipers.” They had finally come to a stop at their guest chamber doors. Rhaenyra wasted no time yanking Naerys' bruised arm to pull her away from their uncle. The younger princess let out a hiss of pain, but she did not notice nor care. Her lilac eyes were overtaken by desperation when she tried to turn Daemon to face her. Rhaenyra failed to take note of the dark look growing on his face or the tick of nerve on the unscathed side of his neck as she continued on.

“You would leave me here? You saw what happened today. They will never stop coming for me uncle. Not unless I give them an heir of unquestionable Valyrian blood. Not unless I have your—” Naerys froze when Daemon gave in to his baser nature. His eyes had blackened over as he reached out a large hand to grab hold of her cousin's neck. Pinning her to the oak door of their chamber. Rhaenyra’s hands flew up to protect herself, but it was too late.

“Yes, Rhaenyra I would leave you here in a den of vipers where you accused my wife of treason.” Rhaenyra clawed at their uncle's hand as his grip tightened. The princess's sputtering coughs bounced off the keeps stone walls. Her face was turning a light shade of blue from the lack of oxygen. “I would leave you here when you continue to make a mockery of yourself at my Naerys expense. At the expense of my marriage.”

Naerys thanked the Gods that there were no guards within earshot as Rhaenyra’s choking grew louder. Thanking the Mother that her husband did not have Dark Sister with him either. She shuddered at the thought of what he might have done with it. “Heavy lies the head that wears the crown Rhaenyra. One could so easily topple under all that weight.” The younger princess remained stock still at her uncle's actions until she realized what he still might be capable of even without his sword.

“Stop.” Naerys cried out. The emotions of the day crashed around her as her pleads began in earnest. “Please kepus, stop. Please. Please stop. Daemon stop!” Rhaenyra may have a childish fixation on her husband, but she did not deserve to be harmed for it. Not at the hands of their uncle who had been in part responsible for her delusions, but she was not so instant either.

“Find someone else to give you your heir's niece.” The Rogue Prince finally released her at the sound of his name on his wife’s lips. His eyes returned back to their violet shade. As he took hold of Naerys hand Rhaenyra fell to the stone floor in a coughing heap. Her throat likely burned as she tried to regain control of her breathing. A red Daemon-shaped handprint graced her pale neck. Though it looked painful, the bruise would likely be no worse than the one she had inflicted upon her cousin-aunt before Ser Vaemond’s fateful petition.

“Do you not think I have not tried?” Rhaenyra crooked out. The whites of her eyes were as red as her neck. Tears bumbled at the surface as she let out a snort. The crown princess turned her bloodshot eyes towards the younger princess with venom, but only briefly before she landed her cloudy gaze on her cousin's husband.

“Even with Harwin. I couldn’t see any man but you. Ao lua īlva hen īlva biarves kepus.” You keep us from our happiness uncle. What pity she had for Rhaenyra disappeared. Naerys let her husband tug her inside with him before shutting the door to their chambers. Leaving her cousin to her misery.

Ao3 Link:

Tags: @misssilencewritewell @parizparis @thanyatargaryen @i-love-morally-gray-characters @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @bubblebuttwade @beggarsnotchoosey @m-indkiller @pearlstiare @green-lxght @lazypinkpig @mvrylee

#daemon targaryen x targaryen!oc #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x black!oc #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #daemon targaryen fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #hotd spoilers #daemon ike turner targaryen #bnhotdfic

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chungledown-bimothy · 1 year ago

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Nothing Will Be Fair Going Forward

my piece for @acocfictionzine, beta'ed by the incredible @secret-third-abernant-sister <3

Word Count: 2814

Summary: The war is over. Now the hard part begins. (A triptych of pre-canon Amethar and Caramelinda.)

Also on AO3

Y.o.B. 1195

Amethar paused and took a deep breath. I hope this isn’t some king shit. I’m not ready. I’m not cut out for this.

He swung open the rock candy door to the king’s study, a cavernous room lined with more books than even Lazuli could have read in a dozen lifetimes. Sitting behind the massive desk in the center of the room was his father, King Jadain. An old, frail-looking man of lime hard candy, he seemed almost comically too small- there was easily room for two more people on either side of him before the space would even begin to feel full.

As Amethar closed the door behind him, Jadain stopped fidgeting with his hands and looked up. “Ah, good, you’re here. Please, Amethar, have a seat.” He waited for Amethar to sit before he continued, “Now that the war is over, it’s time we talk about what happens next for you and Candia.”

Amethar’s jaw dropped, incredulous. “Rococoa’s funeral was last week! It’s too soon for all this!”

Jadain sighed. “Unfortunately, it isn’t. I am old, and the losses of your sisters and mother have taken a hefty toll on me. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have, so we need to have this conversation now. I know that you don’t want the crown, that you never wanted it, but the fact is that you will be King. The issue at hand is who will be Queen.” The image of a beautiful woman in the Dairy Isles flashed through Amethar’s mind.

“You may be old, but I’m young! I’ve got plenty of time to fin-” he cleared his throat, remembering Rococoa’s words when she found out about Catherine. “To figure that out.”

“Amethar, you know better than anyone else how hard the war was on Candia. I will admit, I made a mistake in delaying our involvement, causing Duke Jawbreaker’s rebellion that’s showing no signs of stopping. In order for Candia to recover, we need to be united. We can’t afford a civil war, certainly not right now.”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with me getting married?”

“The only one of your sisters who was wed was Lazuli. Do you know why she married Duchess Caramelinda of House Meringue?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they loved each other.”

A soft, sad smile crossed Jadain’s face. “They did love each other, but that’s not why they got married. We, as royals, are privileged in many, many ways. We are afforded freedoms and opportunities that most other people simply do not have. Marrying for love is not one of those freedoms. One of the strongest political tools is strategic marriages.”

“Yeah, I remember Rococoa saying something like that once.” He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “Dad, you know I’m not the smartest guy; you’ve gotta spell it out for me. What are you getting at?”

“Meringue is not a large duchy, but it is in a very strategically valuable location. House Meringue is loyal to House Rocks, of course, but there are those within it who agree with Duke Jawbreaker. Having the backing of the crown would do much to silence the dissidents, and ensuring that with a more formal arrangement would make it effectively impossible for my brother to move on Castle Candy.”

“By ‘formal arrangement' you mean…” Amethar’s stomach tied itself in knots as pieces started falling into place. “Me marrying her? Lazuli’s wife?”

The king nodded. “Correct. This will have to happen rather quickly; the longer we wait, the longer my brother has to act.”

“No!” Amethar jumped to his feet, one hand instinctively reaching for Payment Day- even in his own castle, it was never out of reach. “You can’t be serious. Didn’t Citrina go on and on at their wedding about the holiness and sanctity of their love? This is disrespectful to all three of them!”

Jadain slammed his hands on the desk and stood as well, suddenly commanding the room more than should be possible for a man his size. “Amethar, this is not up for debate! The time of you being able to do whatever you please is over. It ended with the lives of your sisters. You will marry the Duchess. You will do your duty to Candia as its king. I do not doubt that you have it in you to be a great king, but first you must grow up!” He took a deep breath, and much of the fight in him dissipated.

“I am sorry that I was not more forceful in ensuring that you were prepared to rule should the unthinkable happen. But I wasn’t, and nothing can change that. So now it’s up to you. You can either rise to the occasion or let Candia fall to ruin and make it so every death since the war began, including your sisters’, was in vain. Do you understand, now, that this is not a conversation, but an order?”

Amethar bowed his head, shaken by Jadain’s all too rare display of strength. “Yes, father,” he mumbled.

“Good. Now go; the Duchess should have arrived by now, and the two of you have much to discuss.”

“Yes, father.” Without looking up, Amethar bowed slightly, turned, and left the room.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Jadain collapsed onto his chair and clutched his chest, even smaller than he was mere minutes earlier. I’m sorry it had to come to this, my son. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more time.

Amethar was not surprised to see Sir Theobald Gumbar waiting for him in the hall. He started walking down the hall to the grand entrance without hesitation or a word.

As expected, Theo rushed after him, quickly catching up. “Your Highness, good morning. Duchess Caramelinda has arrived. If I may be so bold, what’s going on?”

“We are to be married.” Theo stopped dead in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, ‘we’ who? You can’t mean you and the Duchess, right?” he called. The prince didn’t break his stride or acknowledge the questions in any way, leaving him stunned in place, alone in the hall.

Far too quickly for his liking, Amethar reached the entrance hall. A million thoughts were racing through his head as he walked, but the one he kept coming back to was I’m sorry, Laz. You know I don’t want to do this.

When he got there, a footman informed him that she had indeed arrived and was waiting in a nearby sitting room. He nodded and entered without a word.

Upon his entrance, Duchess Caramelinda of House Meringue rose to greet him with a hint of a smile, the picture of poise, beauty, and manners. He bowed no more or less than befitted her station.

“Your Highness, it is lovely to see you again,” she said after a brief but tense moment of silence.

“You as well, Your Grace. We have a lot to talk about; do you want to do that here, or should we take a walk?”

“A walk sounds lovely.” She glided across the room and took his offered arm.

A few minutes of small talk later, they came upon the royal gardens, a massive sprawl of trees and flowers around labyrinthine hedges twenty feet tall.

Caramelinda hesitated ever so slightly when Amethar started leading her into the hedges. Amethar immediately noticed and stopped. Confused, he looked at her, before realizing what had given her pause.

“Oh, no, Your Grace, I promise, I have no intention of compromising you. It’s just delicate stuff we need to talk about, and I thought it’d be better to do so with some privacy.”

She looked up at him, and her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Very well, then. Lead on.”

Once they rounded the first corner, Amethar spoke again, this time without breaking his stride. “I assume you’re aware of the… arrangement?”

“If you’re referring to our engagement, yes, of course.”

“Obviously, what you and Lazuli had was beautiful and special. The last thing I want to do is disrespect that, you, or her memory. But I was thinking maybe we could be friends?” Caramelinda stopped walking and took her hand off of his arm.

“I will do my duty to Candia as its queen and yours. With all due respect, Your Highness, I cannot offer you anything beyond that. I appreciate the thought and the effort, but this is just politics, nothing more.” Her tone was placid, so he was taken aback when he turned to her and saw a mask of steely determination.

His brow furrowed, and his hands started fidgeting at his sides. “Oh, um, okay. Yeah, cool, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Now, shall we discuss wedding plans? This should be done sooner, rather than later.”

“Uh… I, uh… I’m not good with all that stuff. I feel like I’d just get in the way. Do you wanna just have it be the way you want?”

Caramelinda sighed, the path of her future life quickly taking shape before her eyes. “Very well. I will handle the planning. Given the recency of Rococoa’s death, a large event would seem in poor taste, I believe. The political optics of a united, thriving Candia can be satisfied with a historic coronation when the time comes.

That said, I assume there are a couple of…” she hesitated, searching for the phrase he’d use, “‘war buddies’ of yours you’d like to have in attendance, perhaps you’d like to send invitations to them?”

Amethar looked down. “I can’t write,” he muttered.

“What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

He looked at her and threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “I can’t write, okay? Or read.”

Caramelinda’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you can’t read or write? How is that even possible for someone of your station?”

“I dunno, it was hard, and there were always people around who could do that stuff for me. It didn’t seem all that important,” he shrugged.

“I cannot believe this. I was married to the most brilliant person in all-” she was cut off when Amethar stepped into her space, eyes blazing and standing at his full height, a foot and a half taller than her.

“I’m not Laz! I will never be Laz!” He shouted, and she flinched but immediately regained her perfect posture. “You loved her. I did, too. Both of us wish she was still here, but she’s not. This is going to be hard enough as it is- if you expect me to be anything like her, that’s just gonna make things worse.”

She stepped back and nodded slowly. “You’re right, and I apologize.” Her voice shook slightly, strengthening as she continued talking. “Things are what they are, and there’s no point in dwelling on the past. I will handle the wedding details. Think about who you’d like to invite, and we’ll discuss that later.”

He relaxed his posture. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Caramelinda, please. We are to be married, after all.”

“Of course. And you should call me Amethar.”

Neither of their smiles reached their eyes.

17th Harvestdusk 1196

“It’s time, Your Grace.”

Caramelinda thanked the servant and looked herself over in the mirror one last time. She couldn’t help but compare what she saw to how she looked on the happiest day of her life, when she stood in the same place and wore the same color some years before. She looked different now. More tired, mostly. There was certainly no trace of the love and light that had been so present in her eyes that day, and the brilliance of the pure white dress mocked her and the decisions she’d made, betraying the love of her life for patriotic duty. Time to go. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the chapel.

Candia had no shortage of beautiful architecture, but the Cathedral of Saint Citrina was the most impressive of them all. Its intricately carved multicolor spires reaching two hundred feet into the air were rivaled only by its massive stained sugar-glass windows depicting Bulbian saints and iconography, including Saint Citrina herself. The early afternoon light threw a kaleidoscope of colors across the floor in a cruel mockery of confetti.

Seeing Amethar standing there at the altar next to the officiant, Chancellor Lapin Cadbury, she briefly understood the envious looks her friends had tried to hide when she told them about the engagement. As incompatible as they were, she had to admit he certainly looked the part of the dashing young prince and war hero. There are certainly worse men I could have to sire an heir with.

Then that moment passed, and as she walked down the aisle, the emptiness of the cathedral felt suffocating. The only other people in attendance were the king, Amethar’s right hand man Sir Theobald, and his best friend and advisor Lord Calroy of House Cruller.

She arrived at the altar, and Chancellor Cadbury indicated for them both to kneel before he began the ceremony, addressing Amethar.

“Most illustrious Prince, is it your will to fulfill the treaty of marriage concluded by your father, the King of Candia, and the parents of the Duchess of Meringue, and, as the Bulb has dispensed with this marriage, to take the Duchess who is here present for your lawful wife?”

She kept her head bowed, so she couldn’t see the look on Amethar’s face as he audibly gulped before responding, “I will.”

She felt, rather than saw, the chancellor turn to face her. She slowly raised her head, still not looking at Amethar. “Most illustrious Duchess, is it your will to fulfill the treaty of marriage concluded by the King of Candia and your parents and, as the Bulb has dispensed with this marriage, to take the Prince who is here present for your lawful husband?”

“I will.”

The rest of the ceremony and small but still elaborate wedding dinner was a blur; the only thing Caramelinda remembered was how bitter the wedding cake tasted.

20 Highbright 1197

The midwife handed Amethar a swaddled, crying bundle of black licorice as Caramelinda screamed in pain again. “Take her, Your Majesty. Bulb willing, the second child will be here very soon.”

“Oh, uh, y- yeah. Of course.” He tucked her into the crook of his elbow as he’d been taught and looked down at her, bouncing and rocking her oh so gently. She was small enough that she could practically fit in his hand, but her cries were so loud. “Good set of lungs. You’re gonna be a troublemaker, aren’t you? I can’t wait to teach you all the shenanigans your aunts and I got into growing up.” She quieted down right as Caramelinda shouted with one final push, and then the room was silent.

Three, four, five tense seconds passed.

Amethar had stopped moving, so Jet started crying again. A heartbeat after she did, the red licorice baby in Caramelinda’s arms cried as well, and everyone started breathing again.

He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Caramelinda, putting his free arm around her shoulders. “You did so well. They’re beautiful.” She sighed and leaned into his shoulder, exhausted.

“That they are. What should we name them? I quite like the name Ruby. She’s certainly more precious than any gem.”

He looked at the child in her arms and smiled. “Yeah, Ruby, I like that. And how about Jet?”

She looked at their two beautiful daughters and smiled as well. “Jet and Ruby. They’re perfect.”

“Yeah, they are. Here, let me take Ruby. You just went through hell and should get some sleep.” She nodded and helped get Ruby settled in his arm.

“Thank you, Amethar. As hard as things can be, at least we did this right. Our beautiful girls.” At least, he was pretty sure that’s what she said as she fell asleep.

He gently stood up and started walking to the nursery a bit further into the queen’s quarters. Once he got there, he took a seat in the rocking chair and let himself cry, equal parts love for his daughters and grief for his sisters. “Your aunts would have loved you both so much. They’d spoil you rotten if they were here,” he whispered, “so I’m gonna have to do it for them.” Time lost all meaning as he sat there, watching his daughters sleep. “I’m sure you’ll grow up and be able to take care of yourselves, but no matter what, I’ll protect you. I couldn’t be there for my sisters, but I will be there for you. I love you so much.” Jet stirred a little bit. “That’s right, I’m talking to you, Jet. No one's ever gonna hurt you or your sister. Not while I’m around.” I’ll burn the world to the ground if anyone lays a hand on you.

#dimension 20 #a crown of candy #amethar rocks #caramelinda rocks #jadain rocks #acoc fanfic #d20 fanfic

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mccnbeam · 1 year ago

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[ she/her] — the TWENTY-SIX year old is a LADY, how exciting to see them this season! rumors have it they are INTELLIGENT and DETERMINED, but i’ve heard they are ILL-TEMPERED and STUBBORN as well — maybe that’s why they’ve been called the TENACIOUS. I have even heard that SHE IS AT RISK OF LOSING HER FORTUNE —only time will tell.

basics;

name: devika krishnamurti, devi to friends age: 26 title: lady, inherited from her father

history;

devika's mother was the equivalent of "nobility" in southern india, a distant relation of the pandya dynasty. though her pandya blood had been diluted over several generations, she was popular at court because she was a skilled bharatanatyam dancer

devika's father held title and land in england, but had a restless spirit. he studied works such as the mahabharata, the bhagavad gita, the book of the dead, the tablets of gilgamesh, the iliad, and the odyssey. he wanted to see the places these texts came from

while traveling the world, he met devika's mother. they fell in love and married in india

devika was born in india and spent the first few years of her life there, but her family had to return to england after the death of her paternal grandfather

her mother had a hard time adjusting to the move. she missed home and she adapted poorly to england. additionally, the travel was hard on her body, and she soon fell ill

though she eventually recovered, her body seemed permanently weakened. she couldn't dance as much as she used to, and as soon as devika was old enough, she was often taking care of her mother alongside the staff

when devika was 19, she came out to society. in that same season, her brother was born. her mother died in childbirth

it was an unsuccessful season for her due to the grief that seemed to blanket her household. her father was devastated by her mothers' death and was no longer taking care of himself, never mind her new brother nor the estate. she began tending to all three

she never planned to marry. she had accepted she was going to be a spinster, and was content to take care of her brother until he was of age to inherit the estate, and then she would take a portion of their wealth to travel the world just as her father did

currently;

a few months ago, her father died in a carriage accident. shortly before passing, he invested a sizeable portion of their family wealth into what turned out to be a fraudulent venture

devika has enough money to run the estate for the next year. if she doesn't marry before then, her and her brother will be left destitute. she knows she's hardly of the ideal marrying age, and is a bit resigned to the fact she's probably gonna have to marry some gross oldie

personality/likes;

having shouldered an enormous amount of responsibility since she was young, she has a somewhat serious disposition. though she can come off reserved, she has a sharp wit and strong feelings about even the most innocuous of things. when she's grown comfortable enough to open up, she is a loyal friend and very loving

she inherited the passions of her mother and her father. she's read all of the ancient texts in her father's library, and has acquired a few more, by gift, since his passing

she's trained in bharatanatyam and she still dances every night, but never for an audience. she can no longer afford her teacher, but she still goes for lessons when she has time. her teacher has become sort of an aunt figure to her

stressed bisexual<3 has never had a sexual experience with a man, but has had a handful with women. ladies if u wanna get TOPPED hit me up

tldr;

dead mom, dead dad, bankrupt estate, she super needs to marry this season, which she's balancing with taking care of her 7 year old little brother - feel free to ask anything else here or on discord! my tag is mayareplies#2206

#about #wdintro #devika

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captainswanapproved · 2 years ago

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An Indecent Proposal- Chapter 10

A03,Prologue, Chapter 1,Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5,Chapter 6,Interlude,Chapter 7,Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Daemon x Rhaenyra Multichapter AU:

Daemon leaves Rhaenyra at her wedding feast. Rhaenyra marries Laenor. After a year of trying to do their duty and produce an heir, Rhaenyra writes to Daemon.

She needs a true Targaryen heir.

It only needs to be an arrangement of business, she says. And it would result in Daemon’s child one day taking the Iron Throne.

Daemon accepts the proposal and returns to court.

Only, ventures like these are never simple. As much as they would wish to, Daemon and Rhaenyra cannot let go of the past, or the feelings they once had for each other.

“The Hand would like to see you, Your Grace,” Ser Harrold Westerling said.

Viserys nodded. He was currently fine tuning his model of old Valyria, but he always made time to speak with his Hand. Viserys gestured for his new cup bearer to pour the wine. He was a young boy from Dragonstone. “He may enter.”

The boy brought poured two cups of a fine Dornish Red.

Otto Hightower entered looking livid.

“What is the matter, Otto?”

“Prince Daemon has been disparaging the Queen and your children in King’s Landing. He was heard giving a toast to countless whores and lickspittles, proclaiming Princess Rhaenyra’s children as true Targaryens, and calling your children ‘filthy half-breeds’. This cannot stand. He must be punished.”

“Did you hear the toast yourself,” Viserys asked.

“I did not, Your Grace. It was reported to me by the White Worm.”

Viserys was aware of this informant, but he was also aware that Lady Misery, as the White Worm was also called, was an old paramour of his brother’s. He could easily see the woman wishing to discredit Daemon.

Daemon had matured since his return to court. He was no longer the man who had delivered the infamous Heir for a Day insult. Nor was he the cad who had tried to seduce Rhaenyra. Now Daemon was her staunchest supporter. He had shown his responsibility in his position on the small council. Viserys would not entertain hearsay about his brother, even when reported by his loyal Hand.

“Mysaria has no love for Prince Daemon,” Viserys said. “Should I hear my brother disparaging my queen and children with my own ears, I shall reprimand him.”

“You cannot be serious, Your Grace. There are whispers that your children are illegitimate because of their lack of dragons. This treasonous gossip is encouraged by Prince Daemon. It is disgraceful.”

“There are more rumors than truths swirling in King’s Landing, but Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond are my children. That is what matters. And, if the small folk speculate on their legitimacy, what does it matter? They are not in line to inherit the throne. They will be princes and princess of the realm, make fine marriages, and live in comfort for all of their days.”

Otto scowled. “Aegon should be your heir, Your Grace. It is tradition. The Lords of Westeros will not support a woman taking the Iron Throne.”

“Careful, Otto. I have heard all you have to say on this matter many times before. I grow weary of this argument. Rhaenyra is my heir. And now she has an heir of her own.”

“And what of the legitimacy of her heirs. Do you not find it odd that Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor were unable to conceive for their first year of marriage, and yet, shortly after Prince Daemon arrived at court, Princess Rhaenyra became pregnant.”

“A mere coincidence. And there are many couples that do not conceive within their first year of marriage. Aemma and I did not.”

“Your Grace, we all have heard the rumors of Ser Laenor’s preferences. That, coupled with the fact that Prince Daemon once seduced the princess in an effort to seize the throne, makes for very suspicious circumstances. Who is to say that the Princess has not been seduced again, that those twins belong not to Ser Laenor, but to Prince Daemon?”

Viserys narrowed his eyes. “You care treading very close to speaking treason, Otto. I will not tolerate accusations against my daughter. Princess Alyssa and Prince Jacaerys bear a strong resemblance to Ser Laenor. Prince Daemon has changed his ways. He has proven his loyalty to the Crown. I believe you are allowing an old rivalry to cloud your judgement.”

“And you are allowing your love for your family to cloud yours,” Otto spat.

“I have warned you twice today, Otto. Speak against my Rhaenyra or Daemon again without just cause and I will remove your pin.”

Otto Hightower was many things, but a complete fool he was not. He bowed and departed, slamming the door as le left the chamber.

The wine his cupbearer had poured was still untouched, but now Viserys had the urge to drink both goblets. He dismissed the boy and took to his bed with the wine.

***

His name was Aemon. Daemon was certain that the boy from Dragonstone had Targaryen blood. It was why Daemon had brought him to court and installed him as Viserys’s cupbearer after receiving information from Maester Gerardys. They boy had been grateful, had promised to do anything for him in return. So Daemon chose to use him as a spy.

He was not spying on his brother, per se. It was more that he was spying on those who sought audiences with the king, which often included people who could be conspiring against Rhaenyra.

Daemon was reading a torturous set of outdated laws when the boy appeared. Daemon had taught his spies the various secret passageways through the red keep. They were much like little birds, flitting through the castle and singing songs of secrets.

“My Prince, the Hand just had an audience with the king.”

Daemon set down the scroll, giving the boy his full attention. “And what was the topic of this discussion?”

“Well. . .”

Daemon would have snapped at anyone else, but this boy was so small, and his silver hair was similar to Viserys’s, and the eyes, they closely resembled Rhaenyra’s. Daemon dug in his pockets and produced a wrapped sweet that he knew the boy favored.

The boy took the sweet and swallowed it greedily. Then he said, “Forgive me, my Prince, but it concerned you and the Princess.”

Aemon related the particulars of all he had heard.

Daemon was not surprised that Mysaria was reporting to Otto Hightower. He would be sure to offer her a higher price, and if he could not, he would silence her forever.

He was, however, surprised to hear that Viserys had defended him. After years of distance, the breach between brothers was closing. Daemon had always defended Viserys to those who might speak against him, but the king had not repaid that fraternal courtesy. Until now, apparently.

“The Hand may be a threat to the twins, My Prince, if he thinks they are illegitimate.”

“He is a snake. Tell me, Aemon, do you know how to kill a snake?”

The boy thought for a moment before saying, “You cut its head off?”

Daemon grinned and gave the boy another sweet. “Yes. Unfortunately, in the case of Otto Hightower, we cannot be quite so literal, yet. But there may be something else we can do.”

Daemon quickly composed a letter, mimicking the style of Mysaria, which he had seen often. He sealed the letter only to break the seal a moment later. Then he handed it to the boy. “Leave this somewhere for the king to find, and you will have more sweets.”

“Yes, my Prince, right away!” The boy scurried off and Daemon, his chest swelling with pride at his own brilliance, took caution to the wind and decided to call on Rhaenyra in the middle of the day. It would be some weeks before her could make love to her again, but at the very least, he could kiss her until she was trembling with want in his arms.

***

Alyssa fussed as Rhaenyra wrapped her in a blanket, but as soon as the babe was in her arms again she fell silent. Rhaenyra kissed Alyssa’s downy hair. Little Jace, as she had decided to call him, was already sleeping soundly. Neither babe was disturbed when the tapestry rustled and Daemon appeared.

Rhaenyra was surprised to see him, but it did not follow that the surprise was unwelcome. He had taken to sharing her bed with her in the nights since she had given birth. They did nothing more than kiss and hold each other, as she still had weeks of recovery before they could resume their bedroom endeavors.

It was the crumbling of this final barrier that gave her peace of mind. It was true that they could not marry, but gone was the notion that their relationship was merely a political arrangement. He was her other half, her twin flame. And she loved him more now than she ever had as a younger girl.

Rhaenyra set Alyssa down beside her scarlet egg. It was beginning to crack, as was Jace’s. There was no telling when they would hatch, but it was an auspicious sign.

“What is the matter?” Rhaenyra asked. It was unusual for him to come to her during the day.

Daemon simply took her in his arms and kissed her soundly. She uttered a stifled moan and leaned into him.

After several blissful moments, Daemon said, “The Hand has been careless today. I intend to use it against him.”

Rhaenyra asked him to elaborate. Daemon led her to the settee and pulled her into his lap. One hand buried itself in her curls and he explained what he had learned from his spy, and the steps he had taken against Otto.

When he finished, Rhaenyra kissed him, long, and hard, and deep until she was splayed on top of him, his hard length pressing against her inner thigh. How she wished she could have him now.

Daemon looked at her, his eyes sparkling. “If that is how you respond to my political scheming, I shall do it far more often, Princess.”

Rhaenyra swatted him playfully. “You are brilliant,” Rhaenyra said, kissing him again. “My father is sure to dismiss him.”

“Inspired by the whispers brought to me by my spies. Mysaria is not the only one who trades in secrets.” Daemon said.

“And what will you do to Mysaria?” Rhaenyra asked. She was not threatened by the whore, not really, but they did not need someone reporting Daemon’s interactions with the smallfolk to the Greens.

“Bribery or murder seems like the best choice,” Daemon said.

Rhaenyra knew she ought not to encourage such vices, but she loved how Daemon was willing to do anything in his defense of her and their children. “I would rather be rid of her,” Rhaenyra said.

Daemon nipped at her bottom lip. “If that is your wish, it will be done,” Daemon said. “We will install someone loyal to us in her place.”

***

After dinner, Viserys returned to his chambers. He had not visited his wife today. She had been ill most of the day, but the maesters had assured him of the babe’s good health. Alicent was strong. Viserys knew she would give him another healthy son or daughter. In truth, he hoped for a daughter. He loved his sons, but he did not think they would make honorable men. They were spoiled and foul while little Helaena was almost as sweet as Rhaenyra has been as a girl.

Something peculiar caught his eye, a folded piece of parchment peeking out from a small table.

The seal was broken, and the letter was addressed to Otto Hightower.

My Lord Hand,

You asked me once if I have been sharing the Prince’s bed. In truth, I have not. He has taken a different lover, one with silver hair and a royal title. I always knew he would try to seduce the Princess Rhaenyra again.

I cannot speak to the parentage of the twins, but I heard from the Prince’s own lips that Ser Laenor’s interests were not in his marriage bed.

Would you have me dispose of the twins? Bastards or not, they are a threat to your daughter and grandchildren. One of my girls could do it. Tears of Lys will leave no trace, and she still has the bottle you bade us to use on the Princess.

I will await your answer.

The White Worm

Viserys threw the treasonous letter on the table. He would not believe the slander against his brother and daughter, but this letter put into sharp relief the true nature of his loyal hand. Viserys called for Ser Harrold

The knight appeared alarmed. “Bring me Otto Hightower. Immediately.”

Ser Harrold returned with Otto nearly a half an hour later.

“Apologies for the delay, Your Grace, the Lord Hand was indisposed. I sent the girl back to Lady Misery.”

“This is the girl to whom you gave the Tears of Lys?” Viserys raged.

Otto did not even have the sense to look ashamed. “I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, Your Grace.”

“Perhaps this will refresh your memory then,” Viserys said, forcing the letter into Otto’s hands.

Otto Hightower’s brow furrowed as he read the letter and then, for the briefest moment, Viserys thought he saw a trace of fear. His faithful hand, however, tore the letter down the middle. “This letter is meant to deceive you, Your Grace. I would never threaten the life of your heir.”

“Would you not?” Viserys asked, his voice cold. “Today you questioned my daughter’s honor and the legitimacy of her children. You have a close working relationship with your White Worm. And, ever since Aegon was born, you have tried to convince me to name him heir in Rhaenyra’s place. I cannot believe I have been so blind. Ser Harrold, remove his pin.”

Ser Harrold obeyed and removed the badge of the Hand of the King.

“Your ambitions have corrupted your service. I can no longer trust you. You will return to Oldtown on the morrow. And if you ever return, you will lose your head.”

“What of my daughter?” Otto asked, his voice low.

“I must believe her to be innocent of this.”

“And who do you expect can take my place? If you appoint Prince Daemon to be your Hand, the realm will fall to ruin.”

“The Small Council is no longer any of your concern. And my brother has proven himself to be the more honorable and loyal man. Say another word against him, and I will have your tongue. Get out of my sight.”

Ser Harrold seized Otto’s arm and forced him from the room.

Then he made his way to Daemon’s chambers. It was early yet. Daemon would not be abed.

***

Daemon stepped out of the copper tub and dressed quickly after a maid informed him that the king awaited him in his solar.

Daemon could not imagine what his brother wanted. Viserys was not known for swift action. Daemon expected the seeds he had sown with his forged letter would not yield harvest for another few days at least.

Life, however, was full of surprises.

When Daemon entered his solar, he found his brother standing before the fire, his hand in the flames. “I have been a fool,” he said without preamble. “For years I put my faith in someone who was not a true dragon. My family has suffered for this mistake. Aemma, Rhaenyra, and most of all, you, my little brother, have suffered because of my folly.”

“What are you talking about?” Daemon asked, even though he might be able to guess.

“Otto Hightower is no longer the Hand of the King.” Viserys showed him the letter and Daemon read it, feigning surprise.

Viserys closed the distance between them. “He is a threat to Rhaenyra. He will return to Oldtown tomorrow and I find myself in need of a new Hand. Will you take the badge, Brother? I should have given it to you years ago.”

“I will, Viserys. The blood of the dragon runs thick. What of the queen? Will she be returning with her father?”

“No. Alicent is innocent in all of this, I am sure of it. She has my loyalty and I will not set her aside for the sins of her father. But Otto Hightower no longer has a place in King’s Landing.”

“You should remove his head,” Daemon said.

“I am not a tyrant, Daemon. He will return to Oldtown in disgrace. If there is further treachery discovered, then I will put him to the sword.”

Viserys was weak, but Daemon had not expected the letter to lead to Otto Hightower’s execution. Having him sent back to Oldtown was more than Daemon had expected. It would be enough for now.

Viserys took his silence for approval and placed the pin through Daemon’s doublet. “Together we will ensure that Rhaenyra inherits a thriving realm. I know I can trust you in this office. You have proven your loyalty to our family a hundred times over. I am sorry I failed to see it sooner.”

“It is never too late, Brother,” Daemon said. He could not forgive Viserys for everything, but no matter what, he loved his elder brother, and would proudly die for him.

Then Viserys embraced him, and Daemon was overwhelmed by a strong feeling of belonging that had been absent since his brother had taken the throne.

***

Otto Hightower stormed into his daughter’s chambers. His temper was only further stoked by the fact that Ser Criston Cole was sitting in his daughter’s bed in only his shirtsleeves.

“Get dressed and get out,” Otto demanded.

Ser Criston did as he was told.

“Are you mad, Alicent? You are carrying your fourth child. You are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you are dallying with a disgraced Kingsguard.”

“What does it matter to you who shares my bed? I have given the king three children, just as you demanded all those years ago.”

“And if you have a bastard who bears no resemblance to the king, you will taint the rest of your children. Do not tell me that the child you carry belongs to Cole.”

“It does,” Alicent said. “But we have devised a plan. If Rhaenyra can be so brazen without consequence, then so can I.”

“A plan? Have you lost your senses? I will no longer be here to protect you.”

“What do you mean?” Alicent asked.

“We have been thwarted by that whoreson Daemon Targaryen. He must have his own spies. And my White Worm is a traitorous cunt.” Otto sat at the foot of his daughter’s bed and explained the situation. He was gratified at Alicent’s look of horror.

“Father, I cannot outmaneuver the Blacks without you. I am not clever or cunning enough.”

“You will have to be, otherwise your life and those of your children will be forfeit. We play and ugly game. And you must prove that you are capable of playing. Bed your knight if you must. You will need every capable sword you can muster. But take your moon tea after you have delivered your child. Viserys is blind to the truth. If you can convince him the child is his, he will not suspect your infidelity.”

“I will make you proud, Father. I swear it,” Alicent declared, though not looking utterly convinced.

But it was too late. Otto would be bound for Oldtown by morning.

But first he would give orders for a certain White Worm to be crushed.

***

All was quiet as Mysaria stepped outside of her establishment. It was the hour of the Wolf and most of the city was sleeping. Even her patrons were sleeping with whores draped over them.

A hooded figure approached.

“My establishment is closed for the evening,” Mysaria said.

The stranger said nothing. A gloved hand seized her by the throat, forcing her against the rough stone wall. She struggled but it was of no use. The steel of the dagger was cool against her skin, and then it was embedded in her abdomen. The man stepped away and she fell to her knees.

Her assailant ran.

As Mysaria slipped into endless oblivion she wondered if the hooded stranger belonged to the Greens or the Blacks.

***

The hooded figure continued his way to the dragon pit. The queen was only a few moons away from giving birth. The assassin slipped into the dwelling that housed a score of dragon keepers. A torch and a flask of oil and he made quick work of setting the place ablaze.

Voices shouted as the flames were seen and the hooded figure slipped into the shadows.

While the keepers were distracted, he found his quarry. The golden dragon egg gleamed in the open warmer.

He pressed the egg against his side, concealing it with his cloak.

The hood slipped as the thief made his way to the docks. Criston Cole would hide the egg in Dorne until his beloved queen had given birth. And then his son or daughter would claim the hatchling.

He would do everything he could to ensure a victory for the Greens.

#daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra #hot fanfic #hotd #hotd an indecent proposal #Ahhhhhhh this chapter really got away from me #i hope you enjoy it #my writing

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al-hekima-madara-blog · 3 years ago

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Madara's realistic headcanons

I wasn't sure if people are ready for my realistic headcanons, but finally I just did it. Just in case it's not for everyone.

trigger warning : Involve suicidal thoughts, depression, violence to women and children, panic attack, eroticization of pain, self-hate.

From the time Madara was born Uchiha clan was not anymore a wealthy family. Because of instability, farmers fled combat zone, The lands they owned had become wilderness. Yet they kept their prestige among population and their children still received an education similar to noble family.

He suffered from malnutrition in his childhood, and starved himself to give food to his brothers but thanks to his good stamina it didn't really affect his physical abilities during his youth.

His hair cut, short in front and longer in the back is a result of heavy use of katon which literally burning his locks. But it's part of his charm.

He wore gloves for the same reason, fire makes his skin getting softer and sensitive.

He always has this slightly burning smell on him and all his clothes. It doesn't matter the number of shower or washing machines.

His long mane was not originally for aesthetic purpose, but just carelessness, then an excuse to hide his face and emotions, and finally his trade mark. People were wondering how strong or/and crazy he was to keep such long hair while it was not suitable during a fight. it can be set on fire, wedge in his armour, catch by an opponent...

He was almost blind up to Izuna's death. He expanded greatly his sensorial skills because he needed to rely on it daily.

His insomnia came from overthinking and fear of failure. He rarely sleeps more than 3 hours per night, He occasionally does micro nap (10 min max) during the day.

During his insomnia phases, and if the moon is full to avoid using candles, he read a lot of ancient philosophy, history, military strategy from Uchihas library.

He never married, never had a serious relationship. He had romantic view on someone now and then, but he never pursued it actively. Wars, fear of loosing again someone dear. Plus, he was convinced that his life as shinobi will be short, out of question to leave behind him widow and orphans.

This being said, let's be honest a man with such level of testosterone won't stay virgin all his life. And it's a common knowledge next to any military camp there is always prostitutes. He did his business in total discretion, to the point his clan questioned his orientation. He was a loyal client but cold and distant, ruthless during act, even after years of visiting the same persons.

Like many shinobis, he occasionally was subject of panic attacks. When he felt the symptoms coming, palpitations, pain in his chest ect... he always found a way to isolate himself. His triggers were always fear of loosing people he loves, fear of loosing control of himself, fear of not reaching his objectives. He hated himself when it happens.

He can be very rude and harsh to people. But what he said to others is half as hard he criticise himself daily.

90% of his schedule out of missions or fights were training. His dedication is obsessional.

10% left, during days of celebration, he is pretty good at calligraphy and writing haiku. Because he's a shinobi, he is specialized in death poems that warriors write before going to an important battle. But he burns them as soon as he comes back home. Doesn't want anyone to know about his poetic side at least when he's still alive.

After so many years of receiving punches, his tolerance to pain was extremely high which could be a problem sometimes, while fighting and high by adrenaline he often didn't realise how serious were his wounds.

Considering the number of battles he has been involved his body is covered with scars more or less ugly. And I'm sorry to say it, but I'm sure his face has not been preserved intact. He was kind of reckless during fight and didn't care about his physical appearance.

Paradoxically while he genuinely want to cease war, he find an erotic attraction in fight to death. Like people attracts to extreme sport, he feels the more alive when risking his own.

The reason why there is almost no uchihas kunoichi is practical. They want to preserve their bloodline and a female dead in battlefield is a loss for the future of the clan since they don't married outside their clan. Men would in rare situation when there is no women available but never female uchihas.

They have a practice close to what did Rajput warrior caste in India called Jauhâr , if enemies attack uchihas basement and battle is definitely lost, women of honour are expected to do self-immolation with their children rather than being kidnap, rape or put into slavery.

Like Naruto /Sasuke fight, the valley of the End left him with irreversible wounds, like chronic pains. And probably as well for Hashirama too maybe a slow down to his regenerative cells.

After the valley of the end, it was symbolically the death of his previous life as an uchiha. But he partially lived in his cave. He might occasionally travel undercover to look for informations, and food. It's only after Hashirama's death. He entirely took an ascetic lifestyle, denied of any pleasure, reduce to minimal for surviving. There was nothing anymore who could attached him from this physical world aside his plan. He let the white zetsus doing the main job as spy.

Without Gedo statute he would probably have die before his 40 of general exhaustion. There is always a price to pay when someone burns with such feral intensity his vital energy, submit himself to extreme training since childhood, fighting, lack of sleep, stress, depression. (Itachi can talk about it !)

During his fifty years retreat in the cave when he was not studying for his Moon plan spend 50% of the time within his genjutsu, rewatching endlessly the same memories with Izuna, Hashirama, deceased people he missed from Uchiha clan. And the older he gets, the longer he spend into his illusion. Kind of like an opium addiction.

Mentally he stops ageing at the time Izuna died, around 25. Exactly the appearance he looks when he put Obito into his illusion.

After decades of not seeing Rinnegan appearing he was almost in the verge of giving up the plan of the moon. Black Zetsu was paradoxically the one who save his life many time and put him back in track.

He is not the type to consciously commit suicide, but rather putting himself in suicidal situations like attacking alone an army or neglecting his health. In the cave, he put himself so deeply into his genjutsu that many time he forgot to control his chakra and if black zetsu didn't wake him up he would had just die inside his dream.

And if you want to read more about my Madara's analysis follow me in my main page here

#Al Hekima post #madara #uchiha madara #madara uchiha #madara headcanons #naruto headcanons #the founders era #warring states era

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jeriafterdark · 3 years ago

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Part 4/4: GJ being loud and Married - The Ring Saga

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

The final part (whew), this has taken a lot longer than I expected lol. Here is our boy, GJ, flaunting that ring.

What if GJ just wears these rings for fun? or just for work? Is it a big deal?

Normally, GJ doesn't really wear rings to my knowledge. Also, he's very obvious about work commitments vs personal commitments. He doesn't really mesh the two? Here's an example.

When he was filming Dream Garden, he was given a cp ring as part of the prop for the scene. He actually waits til he's about to do the scene to put the ring on.

And then when he's done with the scene, he immediately takes it off.

He's a person with very strong personal boundaries, as you may have seen as he scooches away from almost everyone he meets lol. Esp during that Vogue event where he's just sitting there... thinking about his life, in the finest clothes, in the midst of a party of super stars. He's just like... nahhh, I'm gonna be on my phone kthx. This man literally just hiding at the bar.

2. Filming Chinese Restaurant

He also wore his ring during his filming of Chinese Restaurant. He actually cooked along with Zhou Ye, the actress for A-Xiang, along with a bunch of other people.

He's shown as putting his hand behind his back when he -just- gets picked up by the bus. We assume that he was taking off his ring here. His hand shows up as oddly.. blurry, as if someone took a photoshop smudge tool and tried to smudge out that ring on his ring finger again (remember part 2-3?)

And then in the scenes where they're sitting around and chatting. You can see that he's HOLDING THAT RING AGAIN. He didn't even want to put it in his pocket lol.

DO YOU SEE THAT EDGE ON THAT RING? IT'S NOT CIRCULAR? It's almost.. hexagon-shaped?!?!?!?! - foams at the mouth -

Here's some more images of him sitting around with that ring, he's such a playful puppy, look familiar?

One final note, someone asked the Tasaki representatives to ID the rings that GJ/ZZH wore, and the rep actually said it's the same ring.

^ I can't remember the tweet this was from, but it's from Amber's collection!

3. Recent appearance at Global Chinese Music on CCTV - Apr 23, 2022

People noticed that his recent appearance (on the same stage that two years ago, ZZH appeared on wearing white as well), he had a peculiar tan line on his ring finger.

Bonus: ZZH still wore that ring in leaked pictures from a variety show he was filming before 813

To conclude: This is the saga that destroyed my sanity, and caused me to dive face-first into every JunZhe/LLD candy there is. I firmly believe that if it weren't for this evidence, I may not have joined this part of the fandom at all lol. I just can't deny that it's clearly an attempt to hide the fact that they're connected/married/engaged. This including the deleted BTS of the WOH concert / WOH filming, where ZZH is always threatening to kiss GJ for various reasons?? You could be the most homophobic person in the entire world, and still can't deny this. C'mon now. (I joke).

If RPS makes you uncomfortable, of course you don't have to believe in it. Do what you wanna do. This is just some international fan's observations. I firmly believe that I'm supporting a real couple, not shipping a "cp." This is only ONE ASPECT of the evidence of their relationship, by the way lol. ONE ASPECT. And it took me FOUR PARTS. I just love them, I love how loyal and sweet GJ is. I love how defiant ZZH is. And I'm heartbroken about what happened to him. If anything, I just want those two to be able to walk out into the light again.

I'll be doing more series on JunZhe/LLD to try and convert all my saved materials into some organized content for this blog, thank you for joining me on this small recollection! I hope you had fun!

#junzhe #lld #langlangding #the ring saga #the ring #word of honor #gong jun #gong jun bts #deleted bts

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oyasuminto · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, Minty! How're you these days? I was re-reading your posts and then it hit me! Argus is like, totally my flavor of fictional man, completely misogynist and disgusting, but at the same time loyal. I would want to punch him in real life? Totally! However, fictionally, I want to cuddle and try to fix him! How would be his routine with his wife in their future, when they are already married and have children? His relationship with them growing up and everything...<3 —🐭

HEY!! I am,,, very busy because of my coursework, but that'll calm down in, like,,, a week or two, hopefully,,,

ANYWAYS

The routine is relatively simple: he generally wakes his wife up for a round or two of sex before sending her down to start breakfast and then wake up the kids. If it's a work day, he'll get ready while his wife is preparing the kids for school or extracurriculars. Otherwise, he'll stay in his sleepwear for longer. Regardless, his sons get ruffled hair and his daughters get kisses on the head before leaving.

On work days he'll be calling and texting his wife frequently, even when he's on the job, just checking in to see how she's going, to tell her how much he loves her, to berate her for being a dumb bitch. If he gets suspicious, he'll just check the indoor security cameras to make sure she's doing the right thing.

Otherwise, he'll be in and out of his workshop, alternating between his newest woodworking project and tailing his wife as she does her chores he'll punish her if she fucks up again.

Whether he's working or at home, Argus' lunch is always something his wife prepared for him. His work lunches always come with cute little love notes.

Eventually, the time comes for everyone to get ready for supper. Once again, his wife cooks and herds the kids to the dinner table, and they all chatter about school, extracurriculars, their friends, crushes, etc.

After dinner, Argus makes sure his sons clear the table while his daughters help mama with cleaning and drying, then everyone has their baths or showers before it's bed time.

Argus and his wife spend their evening on the couch, watching TV, cuddling, fucking, before they, too, head to their room.

As a father, Argus is nowhere near as cruel as his own father was: he'd never beat his kids with branches or choke them or throw them in lakes.

That's not to say he's a good father, though. He's still ready to deal out corporal punishments and shout at his children until they're sobbing for stepping out of line.

Even so, Argus has his soft moments. He shows the boys how to play backyard football, he drives the girls to the mall to meet with their friends, he pulls his eldest son aside and presses an old, beat-up pocket knife into his palm, the same knife Argus' father gave him as a chile.

#Not Writing #OC Talk #Argus Sullivan #Asks #Abuse TW #Domestic Abuse TW #Child Abuse TW #🐭 Anon

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years ago

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Draw your swords, pt. 3

Summary: While his bride is exacting her plans from the very first day in Little Palace, the Darkling finds he has a soft spot for the enemy.

Warnings: sexual references, swearing, angst

Part one // Part two

=================================

The last thing Y/N expected upon waking up was to wake up alone. Spreading out in the bed, she huffed a loose strand of her hair off her face. Narrowing her eyes, she stared up at the canopy with her wicked husband on her mind.

After the way he had acted the night before, she found herself wondering what game he’s playing. They were meant to be married in paper only, yet he seems to have a possessive streak that extends to her as well. A part of her wasn’t sure if he truly had a shred of decency within considering he didn’t take advantage of their marital status, but the other part of her wasn’t easily swayed. That part of her remained defiant as it was forged in a fire the Darkling set. Intentionally or not, his actions have damaged her before they ever even met and she wasn’t very forgiving.

Opening the door, unannounced, strolled in the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen. Her long, auburn hair was perfectly styled and framed her face without obscuring an inch of her stunning beauty.

Genya, she realized. Even on the other side of the fold, Y/N knew of the empresses’ tailor.

Large, amber eyes fix on Y/N who slowly sat up. She stared at Genya without shame, admiring her appearance.

“Well, from what the general told me, I expected I’d have more work on my hands.” Genya huffs, her hands on her hips as her lips form a thin line.

“I have nothing wrong with me”, Y/N defends, graciously getting out of the bed that was far too comfy considering who she shared it with. “And where is the general?” Raising her eyebrow, Y/N folded her arms. No matter where he disappeared to, she couldn’t let him wander too far in case he tries to break their agreement and attend a meeting alone.

Humming, Genya didn’t try to hide her curiosity as she looked Y/N up and down. “Are you sure you don’t need my services?”

Glancing at the door, Y/N saw the servants waiting in front for a command. “Leave us”, Y/N waves them off, swiftly closing the door behind them. Her eyes settle on a seemingly startled Genya who cocks her head to the side.

“Interesting. So you do need me?”

Inhaling deeply, Y/N nods. Coming closer, her eyes remain on Genya’s whose gaze drifts at first. Once Y/N stopped before her, their eyes met.

“I need you, but not as a tailor.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Genya steps back. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N licked her lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you hate the emperor and you’d do anything to make sure he never lays a hand on you?”

Genya’s nostrils flare, her lips drawing back between her pearly whites. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m loyal to my emperor.”

“I know”, Y/N reaches for her hand, “I’m saying if your loyalties shifted, I’d make sure that fat fuck died in agonizing pain.”

Yanking her hand out of Y/N’s reach, Genya stepped back with wide eyes.

Gnawing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N wished she was more tactful. Hearing of Genya and her fate, she assumed she’d gladly ally with her in this fight. Not only does she need Genya on her side to fight against Kirigan, but the emperor as well. Genya would have been an ideal ally if only she was willing to hear her out. But she should have waited, befriended the Grisha. She should have been more tactful.

“Does the general know of the treasonous plans you speak of?”

Chuckling in disbelief, Y/N shakes her head, “Do you truly believe I’d be breathing if he did?”

Pursing her lips, Genya turned her back on Y/N, contemplating all the possibilities that could stem from her decision.

“It’s a lot, I know, but I am here with a few secrets of my own.” Y/N takes a step closer, her hand clasping Genya’s shoulder as a show of support. “I realize you barely know me, but we can change that now.”

“How?” Genya whispers, more to herself than Y/N who released a shaky sigh.

“By revealing a secret that would be lethal for me if you shared it with anyone.”

Glancing over her shoulder, Genya’s eyes narrowed at Y/N who felt genuine, more than anyone had been since the day she arrived in the Palace. Despite the initial mistrust, Genya nods.

The guards stationed outside of Y/N’s room only heard a loud gasp behind closed doors, unaware that very gasp was a start of a friendship that would define Ravka’s future.

Meanwhile, the Darkling had spent the morning out in the fields. Riding his favorite horse usually served as a way to distract his mind from ongoing worries, but it had no such effect today. No amount of speed or distance could possibly erase the feeling of Y/N’s hand on his body, much less of her body pressing against him.

He behaved as a pious man, an honorable gentleman with self-restrain of a saint. If he could, he’d have taken her without regrets, but he never crossed that line and doing so with a woman meant to be his wife would set him on a path of no return – of true evil.

The Darkling may have done some heinous things, but they were never without reason. If he had done anything against her wishes, he’d be beyond redemption and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth every time he imagined himself losing his mind around her long enough for her to turn him into the villain she sees him as.

Another thing he’s decided to do is break the rule he knew she expected him to uphold – sleeping in separate chambers was the worst thing for them now. He had to be in her bed every night, regardless if she wanted to let him between her legs or not. He wouldn’t force her, that much would be true, but he wouldn’t sleep in his own room anymore. The room they were given last night would be the one he goes to, stumbles to, crawls to, in order to fall asleep beside her. And though it’s a risk as he could easily find himself with his throat cut, he refused to back down.

Dismounting, he headed to the map room where his subordinates waited for further instructions regarding the war.

“Shall we start?” The Darkling tossed his riding gloves on the desk as he looked at his people. A new face caught his attention, making him do a double take until his dark skies narrowed at her.

“Now that you’ve arrived”, Y/N stands, smiling sweetly. “I believe we can present to you what we’ve discussed while you were off on a joy ride.”

There’s nothing sweet about her, Darkling realizes. Even her smile is coated in honey but laced with poison.

He licked his lips, “Well, if you want my opinion-“

“I don’t”, she stood her ground, “I have my own.”

Chuckling darkly, he leans forth on the table. His nostrils are flared, his hands gripping the edges until his knuckles turn white. “And what exactly is that?”

“We agreed on having the First army general having a vote in the decision making process as you all do, and since I’m his proxy, I’ve decided you will no longer use humans as canon meat.”

Gliding the tip of his tongue over the inner side of his teeth, he stared at Y/N as if she were made of glass he had every intention on shattering. That would be a mistake – glass is only brittle until it breaks, the shards can cause more damage.

“We will train Grisha to protect humans and humans will use their weapons to protect the Grisha in a more effective manner with the emperor’s gold.”

“Gold?” Kirigan says through gritted teeth as she approaches him, her hands behind her back and he has no doubts she’s stashed a weapon in them and the blue kefta she wore. He’d tell her to take it off and never wear one since she’s but a human, yet as his wife, she was entitled to a kefta. Besides, she looked like a dream in one.

“The emperor agreed to fund the First army’s armory during breakfast”, she smirks, lifting her head up to maintain eye contact.

“Get out”, he grumbles.

Raising her eyebrow, she giggles, “Are you that incapable of admitting I may have opinions and capabilities with potential to do better than the ones you brought before the emperor?” Hardening her gaze, she cups his cheek so tenderly he felt a shiver run down his back. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“GET OUT!” He turns to the others, watching them scramble to leave before he unleashes the darkness everyone feared. Once the last one left, the door slamming behind them, Kirigan locked his eyes on hers.

“Don’t ever try to get inside my head”, he snarled, slamming her against the door. As his heartbeat echoed in his ears, they stayed there with his grip crushing her wrists, keeping them pinned to the wall.

She didn’t breathe, trying to guess his next move. There was a risk she’d push him over the edge and she quite liked herself in one piece, so she waited – waited for him to move first despite the aching pain in her wrists. Releasing a shuddered breath, her chest deflates.

Finally, his eyes soften as he realizes he might have scared her and while he’d usually triumph, he found no satisfaction in being rough with her. He imagined himself releasing her from his grip, cupping her cheeks and asking for forgiveness, but the way she refused to blink made him unsteady. Yet he whispered still, “It’s too dark for you.”

Squinting, Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. She easily breaks out of his grasp, shoving him against the wall with her forearm on his chest. Trailing her hand lazily towards his neck, she tightens her grip, lightly choking him. Pulling him down, she stands on her tiptoes as well. Leaning in, her lips brush against his ear; whispering, "Darling, you may wield darkness but you don't know the meaning of dark."

Stepping away, she raised her chin defiantly and he wished he could grasp it and pull her lips to his until her jaw relented and her mouth opened for his. And that’s when he realized – why would he hold back?

Her eyes drifted up to his and she knew his resolve was gone. His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. There was something gentle about it, regardless of the brute strength he used to push her into the door. She felt the door rattle against her back as he shifted, pressing her into it, taking her face between his hands.

When he kissed her, she felt as if she were losing his mind. She couldn’t comprehend why her hand wasn’t holding her dagger at his neck, or why she allowed herself to moan into the kiss as if he had brought her pleasure.

Every thought she once had evaporated as the darkness of lust drew her in, bending all her rules, stealing the last trembling bit of restraint. She tries to pull away, to stand firm and turn away his affection if she could call it that.

“No”, he whispers, bringing her lips back to his.

And when he kissed her again, she wasn’t sure she wanted her sanity back. She slid her hands under his kefta, wrapping arms around him to press him closer. The low groan at the back of his throat, a small, pleading noise set every inch of her skin on fire.

Opening her eyes, they widen as she notes his are closed as he lost himself in their passionate exchange. A single intelligent thought formed inside her mind, sparking others to appear as well. Playing with fire is her favorite hobby, but this wasn’t a game – not when she was losing.

Pushing against him with all her might, Y/N gasped for breath as he stumbled back. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she narrowed her eyes at him. Lifting her chin, Y/N met his gaze decidedly. After all, she couldn’t avoid her marital duty if she allowed him to kiss her like that. He may not be an old, unattractive, undeveloped man she had imagined in her mind, but Y/N still wasn’t quite keen on giving herself to him. She had kept her maidenhood all those years only to lose it to a man who shall never be more to her than a husband in name only. She’d never love him…she promised herself that. She never broke a promise before and he would not be the one who changes that.

“Don’t touch me”, she spoke through clenched teeth.

He looked at her in surprise. There was hatred in her enchantingly cold eyes, her cheeks flushed red. If possible, her anger made her even more beautiful. Never had he felt such a raging desire.

His hand went around her neck, his thumb digging into the soft flesh. “You are my wife,” he said in a low voice. “You are mine!”

“I believe we have already covered that. I’m not yours and I never will be.” Y/N told him with such spite, such determination that he let her go immediately.

“You’re untouched, aren’t you?” Darkling’s voice softened, his eyes holding more understanding than she liked. Had he acted unreasonably and taken her against her will the night before or now, she’d at least be right about his horrid heart and vile mind…but he didn’t. Instead of being a savage she imaged him to be, he offered her gentle understanding.

“I’m sorry I was rough. I’ll try and be gentler. If you don’t want to go through with this, I won’t force you.” Running a hand across his face, he leaned back on the table. “I want you…really fucking bad, but I won’t take you against your will.” The Darkling sighed as she stared at him with her doe eyes, seeing confusion pass her features.

“Good to know where you draw your line. Murder – good, rape – bad.”

Rolling his eyes, he squinted as he looked at her again, “We can’t sacrifice Grisha for your men.”

Knitting her eyebrows, Y/N could hardly believe he just forgot the kiss they shared. In seconds, he crossed his arms and the lustful look was gone. The man before her was a general once more, and though he tried to hide it, he was still a man who had a hard-on despite the subject change. She wished she could ignore the evidence his blood is still boiling for a touch, more so because he was fucking right – he wasn’t small at all.

“If you keep wasting human lives, we will stop defending yours entirely.”

Raising an eyebrow, his face hardened, “We’ll kill you.”

Scoffing, she raises her eyebrow to mimic him. “It’s you or Volcra or the Druskelle and Fjerdans or Shu. We end up dying either way.” Stepping closer, she folded her hands behind her back. “We can work together and lessen our losses or you can do it your way and have a massacre instead.”

In less than a minute, her eyes turned from ice to flame and he found himself captivated by the change.

“I’ll agree on one condition.”

His gaze roamed over her as if he is unable to fully comprehend her beauty. Only when he looked back at her eyes did he see she was troubled. Was that expression fear? The possibility struck him as so humorous he nearly laughed out loud.

“State your terms”, she snapped, refusing to concede when she’s close enough to do something she’s wanted for years – to protect the soldiers used as a shield for those who are perfectly capable of protecting themselves.

“I plan on getting to know you better”, he leaned in closer. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek just as he imagined – tenderly, enough to show dominance but not quite capable of harming her. “If you let me.”

Heart fluttering inside her chest had made her doubt herself. She stared at him, stubborn and unrelenting. “I’m still not sleeping with you.”

Chuckling, Kirigan drops his hand, noticing her relax as he steps back. With a tightness in his chest, he looked back at his wife, so small, so alone and still so fierce. He would never admit it, but he had already a sliver of love for her and knowing she did not had hurt him.

His smile falls and he nods. Clearing his throat, “How about we go for a ride in a few days?” He took her hand in his and gave her a gentle squeeze, looking up at her weary eyes.

“Does that mean I have the bed all to myself?” Raising her eyebrows expectantly, she squeezed his hands right back, as bold as ever. Genya seemed to trust him, yet Y/N couldn’t understand why. He’s too charming to be trustworthy.

Using his grip on her hand as an advantage, he tugged her closer to him and she found herself between his legs as he remained, leaning against the table behind him. His eyes flicker to her lips, “Better find more pillows, my wife. We wouldn’t want you to be the big spoon again, would we?”

With that, he turned them so swiftly, she had barely blinked as he pulled her up on the table and she gasped in surprise. Heart beating fast, she nearly gripped his kefta and claimed his lips, but he leaned in on his own accord and she had no need for brutish behavior.

The tip of his nose brushes hers and just as she begins to lean in, he takes a step back. Winking, he takes another step back.

“If you want a taste, you’ll have to ask.”

Watching his retreating figure in shock, she remained perched on the table with her mouth open and her eyes wide.

Covering her mouth, Y/N shakes her head. Her mind was right, the heart cannot be trusted.

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x

PART 4

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadow and bone #the darkling fanfiction

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jackoshadows · 3 years ago

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Because I see this fundamental misunderstanding so often on the Arya Stark tag...

In the world of ASoIaF, Lady is not defined as someone wearing dresses, singing songs or wanting romance, marriage and children. Considering how wives are often treated and that marital rape is a thing, I doubt many of the Ladies of Westeros are that desirous of marriage and children. Even Sansa realizes that all this marriage for love/romance is a whole lot of bs and that other houses/characters are after her for her claim.

GRRM has the titles rather simple and in some instances it’s not very clear, but this is what I understand it to be. Please do correct me on this, if I am wrong.

Lady is a title for noble/high born women/girls in Westeros, just like Lord is a title for noble/high born men. Apart from Dorne of course, where we get prince/princesses. We don’t have Dukes or Dauphins or Earls or Viscounts. It’s Lord Stark and Lord Manderly despite Ned being from a Great House.

The highborn girls, irrespective of age, are addressed as Lady. So it’s Lady Sansa Stark and Lady Arya Stark even when Catelyn was still alive. Highborn boys before taking over from their fathers seem to be addressed as Master. Waymar Royce is referred to as a Lordling once - this could be derogatory.

In the books, Catelyn chastises Edmure being called ‘Lord’ when Hoster Tully is still alive and Theon Greyjoy says that he can be Lord only after his father dies.

In the books, Roose Bolton is Warden of the North, Lord of the Dreadfort and Ramsay Bolton is Lord of Winterfell, - marrying Arya Stark to legitimize this claim/title - Lord of Hornwood and Castellan of the Dreadfort.

Jon Snow refers to Shireen Baratheon as ‘Princess’ because he considers Stannis Baratheon to be the One True King of the 7 Kingdoms.

As per the Worldbook asoiaf app, Arya is labelled princess and Bran and Rickon are princes now that the North (Apart from the Boltons and supporting houses) have declared they no longer hold fealty to the Iron Throne. Sansa did not get this title probably because of her marriage to Tyrion Lannister and Robb Stark’s decree.

That’s why Jon Snow is mocked as ‘Lord Snow’ - because he’s low born.

“That is a longsword, not an old man’s cane,” Ser Alliser said sharply. “Are your legs hurting, Lord Snow?”

Jon hated that name, a mockery that Ser Alliser had hung on him the first day he came to practice

--------------------------------------------------

“And the grumkins and the snarks,” Tyrion said. “Let us not forget them, Lord Snow, or else what’s that big thing for?”

“Don’t call me Lord Snow.”

The dwarf lifted an eyebrow. “Would you rather be called the Imp? Let them see that their words can cut you, and you’ll never be free of the mockery. If they want to give you a name, take it, make it your own. Then they can’t hurt you with it anymore.

And my personal favorite:

“Lord Snow, he likes to call himself.” Ser Alliser was a spare, slim man, compact and sinewy, and just now his flinty eyes were dark with amusement.

“You’re the one who named me Lord Snow,” said Jon.

Lord/Lady is not about the characteristics/personality of a character. There is no right or wrong way to be a Lady. There’s no rule that says that Ladies should wear dresses and play the harp and be good at sewing. No single character owns the word ‘Lady’.

This holds true for Northern Ladies as well. Catelyn Stark was a good Lady of Winterfell, not because she sang and played the harp or fought with a sword, but because she was a very capable, strong and intelligent leader whom Ned trusted enough to take over when he left for the south as Hand of the King.

Again, this is Maege Mormont, Lady of Bear Island in the North:

Maege is a short, stout, grey-haired woman, and a fierce warrior. She dresses in patched ringmail, and her favored weapon is a spiked mace.[3][4] She is dedicated to the old gods, and loyal to House Stark. According to her brother, Jeor, she is stubborn, short-tempered, and willful.

Remind us of anyone in house Stark?

Maybe an older Arya will even grow up to like dresses once she is confident enough in her appearance to know that she looks good in them. But a lot of her dislike for dresses also stems from it not being an easy or practical attire to do activities she likes - running around chasing cats or being able to fight.

What Jon Snow admires in Lady Alys Karstark is her bravery in getting all the way to the wall and agreeing to a marriage with the Magnar of the Thenns - he compares the Lady to Arya Stark and calls her ‘Winter’s Lady’.

Arya is brought up to believe that there is only one type of Lady and that she does not fit there because she’s not like Sansa. Hence her dislike specifically for things she is told she’s not good at and therefore not being as good as Sansa according to Septa Mordane, her mother, her sister and her sister’s friends. She does not want to be a Lady as defined by the Septa.

Arya loves flowers, likes purple and green and playing with babies, is good at managing a household, can clean and cook and even sewed her own clothes, is kind and compassionate, cares for people, sees the good in everyone even in the lowest of the low often shunned by Westerosi society.

The patriarchal, male dominated Westerosi society does not like women wielding swords or fighting. The text demands that we critique this considering we have characters like Arya and Brienne calling out the double standards and wanting to not be put into boxes based on their genders.

With characters like Daenerys Targaryen and Arya Stark most assuredly having active, leading roles in the next two books, I think the status quo will change or begin to change by the end of the books.

The current, new generation of main characters think differently to the status quo - Jon Snow, Arya Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, Bran Stark, Tyrion Lannister - are all characters who straight off admire proactive female leaders, war commanders, fighters and in the case of Jon Snow puts them in positions of power. Some of our central protagonists - Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen - as leaders are involved in reform and changing how things are usually done. Other protagonists - Arya, Brienne - have shown a desire and a need for things to change. Bran and Tyrion admire characters like Meera Reed/Arya stark and Daenerys Targaryen respectively.

One of the things Jon Snow wants to do is integrate the Freefolk into the North and eventually Westeros. Considering the women of the Freefolk, why wouldn’t there be a gradual and eventual change in how Westeros sees the role of women in society?

Note, because I just know some folks are going to make strawman arguments about why this is Sansa hate because she’s a ‘girly girl’ or a character who likes singing, dancing and all that. This post is not saying that Sansa is the wrong kind of Lady or that those qualities are wrong or that Sansa is not a Lady because she likes singing or dancing or that Sansa does not want to be a Lady because she will have to marry and it will make her unhappy or that Sansa cannot be a Lady because she loves to sing and dance or that Sansa is the wrong kind of woman to be a lady etc - things that are often written about Arya on the character tag.

My post is saying that maybe in the Westeros that our heroes/heroines leave behind in this coming of age tale, all types of Ladies can co-exist in positions of power - a Lady Arya Stark, a Lady Sansa Stark, a Lady Daenerys Targaryen, a Lady Meera Reed, a Lady Arianne Martell, a Lady Margaery Tyrell and so on and so forth. GRRM has given us a variety of female characters and we all have our individual faves and who we would like to succeed at the end.

PS: No need to love all the female characters the same - they are all very different, flawed, complex characters and to each their own. Proclaiming loudly and repeatedly that one like all these very different female characters the same because they are female does not make one a feminist. Quite the opposite.

tl;dr - Essentially, according to the world and characters GRRM has written, Arya Stark, as Ned and Catelyn’s trueborn daughter, is Lady Arya Stark - that’s a honorific applied to all highborn girls. She has qualities that fit a Lady of house Stark and there is every chance that by the end of the book, the current patriarchal Westerosi status quo will begin to change to normalize girls like Arya, Asha, Daenerys, Brienne etc. as leaders or otherwise

GRRM has always said that it’s a coming of age tale for our protagonists and I think that changing societal status quo norms are part of that.

Edited: Edited to change and provide the right links/description of Maege Mormont as kindly pointed out by @patate-i-et-patate-a

#Arya Stark #Jon Snow #Sansa Stark #Daenerys Targaryen #Bran Stark #House Stark #Westeros #Titles #asoiaf #GRRM

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ruvviks · 2 years ago

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may i request some fun fact about each of the mercenary ocs <3 and also can i hold cato and laurens hands <3

OOGH THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK AND HELL YEA TO BOTH OF THOSE >:)) i'll put it under a read more because. well. there's so many of them LMFAO but enjoy <3

so these mercenaries are all part of vitali's inner merc circle, he has a LOT of mercs that stop by his office for gigs and whatnot but these are the Regulars so to say :) including vincent and mikhail of course but you guys know them by now LOL, all of them together make The Clown Brigade but i couldn't fit all their names on my banner </3

cato is a melee merc, mostly doing courier gigs and cargo transport gigs for vitali. she is clever, energetic and forgiving. she's a very fun person to be around and her friends mean the world to her, and she would do pretty much anything for them

cato used to work at the same independent security organization as mikhail and they were in the same squad together, until they got a job offer from kang tao; cato and the rest of their squad accepted, but mikhail declined, and he ended up working for arasaka instead. one of cato's squad members stayed in touch with him and leaked a lot of kang tao secrets to him; when kang tao found out, they killed him, and the rest of the squad had to be dealt with as well. ever since, cato has been on the run from kang tao, with a newfound hatred for pretty much every megacorporation out there

she found out about vitali through their shared hatred for arasaka and began working for him. naturally, it was quite the shock to her to find mikhail there as well. she was angry with him, rightfully so, but eventually forgave him for what he did, no longer wanting to dwell on the past, knowing how short life can be and wanting to enjoy it as much as possible

nowadays, cato is around the office a lot. since she mostly does courier work, she has a pretty steady routine since she moves down the same routes every week; whenever she has nothing to do, she can be found hanging around the office, talking to anyone who wants to listen

eddie is a heavy merc, mostly doing cargo transport gigs and class 3 gigs for vitali. he is charming, insightful and rational. he's very kind and a real family man, always putting his daughter and ex-husband first and his job second

eddie used to be a bouncer at a club. it was a pretty regular job and not much exciting stuff happened, until he at some point decided to intervene when some shady business was starting to turn sour. he got caught up in the drama somehow, resulting into him getting sucked into the mercenary world; he managed to wrestle his way out of it, but came out a changed man, and he continuously got sucked back in whenever certain people would turn up, resulting into him occasionally doing a gig or two

at the same time he fell in love, with one of the other bouncers at the club. they ended up getting married and even adopted a daughter together- after which eddie quit his job and stopped taking the occasional gigs, so he could become a stay-at-home father. unfortunately, their relationship didn't last, and they ended up getting divorced; still, eddie has a good relationship with his ex-husband (and ex-husband's new girlfriend), and they have shared custody of their daughter

eddie picked up the merc life again after his divorce, and found a stable job at vitali's office. because of his history with security and his intimidating looks, he does a lot of class 3 gigs for him; heavy gigs, often directly concerning megacorporations, stuff only mercs who know what they're doing can handle. he mostly does these with mikhail and shiro, but occasionally another merc or outsider will jump in to help

huxley is a heavy merc, mostly doing class 2 assassination gigs and escort gigs for vitali. she is disciplined, loyal and witty. nobody is entirely sure how she ended up in vitali's inner circle, but on god is she there and she is not leaving

i haven't written all that much yet for huxley, but what i do know is that she didn't always live in night city. she only recently made her way here, and has mostly just been insanely confused about how fucked up the place is. she would've already been knee deep into the mercenary life; this place is just a new chapter for her, and she's managed to find a nice job at vitali's office

she never meant to stick around as long as she did; sure, the pay was good, but she knew nobody there while everyone else did seem to know each other, and felt like an outsider a bit. however, after witnessing some of the batshit insane things the rest of the gang does at the office, she decided to just join in on some conversations, and quickly learned it was very easy to make new friends there. she decided to stick around just a little longer, "just to see what would happen"; and she's still there as we speak

huxley mostly focuses on class 2 assassination gigs, having a very neutral attitude towards killing and not being afraid to use the necessary force to get a job done

lauren is a ranged merc, mostly doing netrunning gigs and infiltration gigs for vitali. she is efficient, reliable and straightforward. while some would say she's a little quiet, once you really get to know her she'll show her true colors as an incredibly fun woman to be around

lauren knows vitali from their college years; she was a year below him, but knew about his existence because 1) he was a troublemaker and 2) he was known for, um, having worked his way through most of the non-straight guys from his year and the years above him. they never spoke, but lauren sometimes wishes they would have

all she wanted was a quiet office job somewhere- not at a megacorporation, though- but shit hit the fan like it does in night city and she tumbled head-first into the wonderful world of netrunning. she mostly did gigs for wakako, and this is how she ended up meeting t-bug. t-bug was a friend of vitali's at the time, and soon introduced lauren to him; needless to say, lauren was shocked to see vitali again, and when she was offered a gig she obviously couldn't say no

nowadays, lauren does mostly netrunning work for vitali, which is basically a thing in most his gigs so she works on anything from class 1 all the way to class 3, wherever she's needed. she gets assigned to a lot of the same jobs as cato, and the two of them end up falling in love at some point; though it takes some time for them to actually start talking to each other, because for the longest time they both believed the other didn't like them because they were convinced they did not share any interests whatsoever

shiro is a stealth merc, mostly doing class 3 gigs and infiltration gigs for vitali. he is clear-headed, honest and intuitive. probably one of the oldest people at the office, but still young at heart, and he hangs out with the rest of them a lot even though they're much younger

shiro used to work for arasaka as well, at their security division. he was mostly a background kind of guy, not too interested in talking to others and he spent most of his time carefully observing; this is why he would know a lot of information, and he would also already know of mikhail's existence for example, having seen him around when mikhail still worked there as well

much like vitali, shiro ended up getting screwed over by the megacorporation and he got fired, leaving him with pretty much nothing, around the same time vitali was fired as well. this is why he easily found him, and was one of the first mercs to start working for him; back then, vitali also still did a lot of gigs himself, so he would work with shiro and mikhail to get shit done and that's how he ended up very quickly making a name for himself because they were essentially unstoppable

shiro takes it a bit easier nowadays, taking a gig every once in a while and filling the rest of his time with doing paperwork or helping out the security division at vitali's office. he also likes to sit around and talk to people, now that he's finally found people he enjoys being around

thibault is a stealth merc, mostly doing infiltration gigs and class 2 assassination gigs for vitali. he is helpful, practical and quick-witted. he's a little silly and would be considered the office jester by many, but has proven time after time he's as deadly as the rest of them

thibault used to be a doll at clouds and met mikhail when mikhail had just quit his job at the independent security organization he used to work for. mikhail helped thibault get out of the place and move into a nice little apartment, and thibault latched onto him very quickly. they grew pretty close in the span of only a few months, but then mikhail started working for arasaka and thibault felt a bit betrayed by him, having an immense hatred for megacorporations himself

when mikhail then also reunited with vitali, he suddenly wasn't there for thibault anymore, almost entirely disappearing out of his life; thibault felt horrible about this and ended up having to fend for himself again, which he did successfully, but he still felt bad about how things had gone

he ended up falling into the mercenary life after he was caught stealing some food in the grocery store and got fined for it, despite literally not having any money at all. he still wanted to take down clouds as well, and was kind of looking for other mercs who would be willing to help him with it; though most of them only worked with him on gigs out of necessity, because their fixer told them to do it, and thibault did not trust any of them. he ended up burning through a lot of fixers until he found vitali, and he stuck around because of the good pay, but was also very surprised to see mikhail there

thibault wanted to be pissed at him, but couldn't stay mad for too long now that he was, in mikhail's words, licking the same boot (vitali's boot) mikhail had been licking for years now and thibault figured that was a fair judgement

nowadays, thibault uses his skills to infiltrate and assassinate, a quick and powerful force not to be reckoned with. he even gets what he wanted to do; together with vincent, judy and mikhail he takes down clouds, and helps rebuild it from the ground up to be a safe space for everyone who used to work there

#asks #mutuals #steelport #ask:cato #ask:eddie #ask:huxley #ask:lauren #ask:shiro #ask:thibault #oc asks #ANYWAY. HERE THEY ARE. ENJOY. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH #thank you so much for the ask auauauuauaua i love talking about the little people living in my brain. they are so special to me #these are just generic profiles :) i have a lot more facts about them but i just. wanted to get these done first LOL #because now you have the basics tee hee >:)))

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the-bugs-under-ur-skin · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere Aubrey + Hero HC’s - Omori

(sorry these are so messy, i ended up writing them late at night)

[yandere Aubrey x reader]

-Aubrey is the totally the cliché of being cold and mean to everyone else but soft for her darling

-everyone else is met with harsh words and cold glares, but with you it’s completely different

-she’ll talk a little more quietly so she doesn’t startle you and her eyes will soften ever so slightly whenever she happens to meet your eyes

-Aubrey just doesn’t want you thinking you did anything wrong, you’re never the bad guy

-she thinks of you as a genuine angel

-Aubrey felt like she was completely abandoned, but when you stick around it makes her feel appreciated and loved

-she was just so desperate for any bit of happiness and you’re like her own personal serotonin dispenser

-my girl carries a bat around with her and you best believe that she’ll strike someone who even looks at you wrong

-unfortunately, she acts on blind rage so she’ll probably just beat someone to death right in front of you

-hopefully you can get used to it, there’s probably nothing that can calm Aubrey down in the moment

-but once again, she wouldn’t hurt you, so there’s really no reason to freak out!

-Aubrey would definitely kidnap you, but only if she knew you would get over it eventually

-she’s wants you and would do anything to have you, but she also wants your love and devotion

-she’s also very cool with not kidnapping because while she would like you to devote every minute to her, she also likes showing you off to everyone

-if she were to go through all of the trouble and hard work of stalking and kidnapping you only for you to completely ignore and reject her, she wouldn’t be able to keep her cool!

-(she might even cry if you refuse to look at her)

-however, Aubrey is still very clever, so she’ll probably be able to prevent that from happening

-she will get stressed if you don’t seem interested at all, though

-everything that she does is for you, and she tries so hard for you

-so if you if you barely give her the time of day she’ll snap

-it’s honestly very easy to make Aubrey snap though

-she has anger issues and is definitely the jealous type

-it makes her completely livid when you spare your attention to someone else

-if you wanted to, you could probably get away with making her jealous if you just want feral Aubrey, but afterwards you need to give her your complete and undivided attention otherwise she’s going to burn the entire neighborhood down

-(on the note of burning the town down, i could imagine her daydreaming about you and her just kissing and holding each other while something completely destructive is happening in the background. it just seems like something that would give her butterflies)

-Aubrey will hover over you 24/7

-in some cases her clinginess is nice, but in most it’s just her smothering you

-on the plus side, you’ll never need to worry about getting hurt or ganged up on

-i can promise you that if any of her gang accidentally messes with you, you’ll never have to even see them again

-she wouldn’t care about the consequences, she no longer cares for anyone in her gang

-but even if she’s with her gang or not, if you’re getting hurt Aubrey will be the one to take them out

-she just cares about you so much, even if you are just getting mildly upset with someone Aubrey will get super worked up

-she loves that your guys’ new reputation is completely destroyed

-no one will come near the two of you, everything can finally be perfect

-it’s like her morbid fairytale ending is finally coming true

-Aubrey wouldn’t know what to do if you suddenly vanished

-she thinks about it a lot, especially since all her other friends left her

-when she thinks about it, she’ll understand why you did it

-she’s honestly kind of insecure and worried that you’ll turn around and completely forget about her

-but she knows she’s not the best, she knows that there are so many better options out there and that you leaving her is kind of inevitable

-unfortunately, if it were to happen in real life it would not go down that smooth

-but it’s fine, right?

-i mean, you would never leave Aubrey, so it’s not like she needs to even think about that

-...right?

[yandere Hero x reader]

-honestly,,,, like he gives me worshipper vibes

-he’s always complimenting you

- whether it’s you looks, talents, or personality, most words that come out of his mouth is just praise

-he just thinks you’re so perfect, he literally can’t imagine anything he doesn’t like about you

-like, with the smallest push in the world, he might actually consider you a deity of some kind

-he’d also probably wait on you hand and foot

-he’s always ready to serve you anyway he can

-if he’s able to, he’ll probably insist on carrying you around everywhere

-he’ll remind you every single day how much he loves you and he has to say it at least 3 times

-every opinion, thought, and feeling that you have, he’ll back you up completely

-Hero also gives me loyal dog vibes

-he follows you around, will do whatever you say, and his life basically revolves around you

-(mini imagine but i think Hero isn’t as involved with his family as a yandere Kel would be. he still loves his family, it’s possible for him to forget about them completely with enough of you in his life)

-Hero will pick up on your cravings or what you frequently want just so he can carry around a little bag for you

-he can cook and i can just imagine him keeping some snacks he personally poured his heart and soul into just for you to munch on

-he’d probably feed you it, too

-he imagines you guys as a loving married couple, to the point where he might accidentally call you his spouse or something

-he’ll get whatever you need, but he’ll feel super insecure if you ask for a store bought snack

-Hero just is super sensitive to everything you do, even if you don’t mean to do anything

-but i can also imagine Hero being super bashful or something

-it’s super easy to make him blush

-like just looking you in the eye makes his cheeks burn

-you get his heart racing from sitting next to him and no matter what you say he’ll always be happy by your side

-and whenever you compliment him, no matter how often you do it, it always catches him off guard

-it’s so unreal too him, even the thought of someone like you praising his heart beat fast

-i think Hero actually would daydream often

-he likes imagining typical romance clichés, like knight x princess or soulmates

-Hero is also protective of you

-i don’t know if he has the heart to kill, but he can do anything else that you want!

-honestly, he’d feel bad if you did want him to kill

-but i just don’t think he’s even a good fighter

-he would give a few good punches, though

-but at the end of the day, the best thing he can do is ramble and rant to you about how much he wants to protect you while holding you close for the whole day

-Hero would be an obsessive texter

-whenever you aren’t around he’ll keep trying to call you and the moment he gets even a little worried about you he’ll spam you with texts

-whenever he texts you, he’ll just do nothing but wait until you respond

-so if you normally leave people on delivered, try to get out of the habit

-since Hero is basically an adult, he’d try his best to get a place to live with you

-it’d be very difficult, considering he’s a college student, but i wasn’t lying when i said this man would do anything for you

-he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone else

-and he won’t have to, right darling?

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #omori #omori x reader #yandere omori #yandere omori x reader #yandere hero #yandere aubrey #hero x reader #aubrey x reader

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sunrisefairy · 4 years ago

Text

Swipe right

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warning: language, mentions of cheating/breakup, alcohol

Summary: The one where Y/N downloads tinder after a bad breakup

Taglist: @hufflepuff5972 @inglourious-imagines @klausdatprettyboi @georgeweasleyswhre @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa send me an ask if you would like to added!

————————————————————————

Y/N hated being single. She hated not having anyone waiting for her with dinner cooked and a glass of wine when she got home from work. She hated how empty her bed felt and not having anyone to cuddle after a tough week. She hated no one being there to listen to her ranting about her day. Y/N absolutely missed being in a relationship and being able to go through life with someone else by her side.

Y/N’s last relationship was 8 months ago, she had been with her ex Matthew for 6 months when it came crashing down. Y/N remembers the night she met Matthew vividly. Her friends had dragged her to some concert at this random underground bar. Y/N was at the bar ordering drinks when a breathtakingly handsome man with blond shaggy hair and piercing blue eyes offered to pay for the 3 beers she was ordering. Normally, Y/N would roll her eyes and not bother talking to random drunk men, especially when it was a girl’s night out like tonight. But something about Matthew caught her attention and she couldn’t walk away even if she wanted to. Matthew had this aura about him, he was very charismatic and could captivate anyone with his looks alone leaving those around him putty in his hands. Which is exactly what happened to Y/N.

Matthew and Y/N started dating shortly after that and she was completely smitten with the man. He seems to be just what Y/N needed. To Y/N he was the perfect boyfriend, he held all the traits she looked for in a partner, kind, funny, smart, supportive, everything except the trait which would be argued to be the most important – loyal. 6 months into their seemingly flawless relationship Y/N found Matthew-her supposedly perfect boyfriend, in bed with another girl.

The second Y/N saw the two of them in a rather compromising position in Matthew’s bed, Y/N felt her world collapse around her, her throat closed over making it hard to breath and her vision blurred. The events that followed are hazy in Y/N’s mind, she remembers screaming and yelling, she knows there had been a lot of tears (mostly from her), Matthew trying to beg for forgiveness, which is very hard to do when you’re butt naked and there potentially was a few items thrown in Matthews direction, deservingly so.

That night broke Y/N, it felt like Matthew had reached into her chest and yanked out her heart and crushed it to dust then spat on it. Apparently, douchebag Matthew and this girl had been shagging for basically the whole of his and Y/N’s relationship. She couldn’t believe it.

Y/N’s friends had spent most of the weeks that followed in the heartbroken girl’s apartment as she cried, screamed, yelled. It pained them to see their best friend so distraught. But surely, over time and with lots of ice cream and alcohol, Y/N was able to heal.

8 months later Y/N finally felt mostly whole again, she was able to smile and laugh without a hollow ache pounding in her chest and tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She no longer dreamt of Matthew’s arm wrapping around her and pulling her into his chest when she dozed off, she forgot how it felt to kiss him and she stopped wanting to call him.

Y/N finally felt free, which she told Alicia and Angelina at their weekly girl’s night in. This led to Alicia trying to convince her to maybe start dating again, to test the waters as she put it.

“Okay, hear me out,” Alicia says waving her arms, somehow managing not to slip her wine on the couch, “I think Y/N should download tinder.”

Y/N scoffs and opens her mouth to disagree, but her words went unheard as Angelina squealed in excitement, “oh my god yes! Y/N you so should.”

Y/N shakes her head before sipping on her wine, enjoying the sweet taste on her lips. “Guys, I don’t think I’m ready to start dating, I definitely don’t think I’m ready for another relationship.”

“But that’s why tinder is so great, you don’t have to go on any dates if you don’t want to. You can just chat to some cute boys and see what happens.” Alicia replies, picking up Y/N’s phone from the coffee table and holds it out for her to unlock.

Y/N thinks for a moment, eyeing her phone, she doesn’t feel ready to jump into the dating scene still nervous about being let down again but there’s no harm in downloading tinder and seeing her options, right?

Y/N eyes are locked on her phone Alicia’s hand before muttering fine and unlocking it for her. Angelina giggled excitedly, moving closer to Alicia’s side to look at the phone. A few moments later the app was downloaded, and a profile was made. The 3 girls took turns swiping through profiles ogling the eye candy.

The phone was currently in Angelina’s hand while Alicia refilled everyone’s glasses, Y/N had lost count of how many glasses of wine she’s had tonight, her body buzzing from the alcohol. “Man, I forgot how much fun tinder is.” Angelina slurred, her thumb rapidly swiping through profiles.

“Okay Ang, we won’t tell Fred that you said that.” Y/N chuckles, Angelina just rolls her eyes.

“Oh, come off it.”

~ ~ ~

The next morning the 3 very hungover girls who had passed out in different spots of Y/N’s living room, somehow manage to drag themselves to brunch with Lee, Fred and George.

“Hello ladies, big night?” Fred winks then plants a sloppy kiss on Angelina’s cheek who mumbles a response that sound vaguely like a yes.

The 6 of them were sitting at a table outside, soaking up the sunshine and warm weather. Once their food is delivered the group is chatting aimlessly with one another. Y/N hears her phone ping from her bag, and she fishes it out to check the notification.

“Ohh, Y/N is it a tinder message?” Alicia says excitedly trying to peer over her shoulder.

“Tinder?” It’s George’s voice now. Y/N glances up at him from across the table, unable to read his expression, “since when does Y/N have tinder?”

“Since last night, the girls convinced me to download it. Kinda seems like time to start getting out there again.” Y/N replies shoving her phone back into her bag before one of her friends has the chance to snatch it from her even though the text was just from her mother.

“Maybe you should download tinder Georgie. ‘Bout time you got yourself a girlfriend.” Lee mumbles, his mouth full of food.

George shakes his head, looking down at his plate, “tinder isn’t for me. Besides your one to talk Lee, you’re single too.”

“Not anymore, I want to marry this eggs benedict.” Lee practically moans as he shovels another bite into his mouth.

Y/N laughs along with everyone, shaking her head slightly.

“I think you should George, I’d bet money that your dream girl is on there.” Fred smirks at George whose eyes widen at the comment and his cheeks heat up.

“Can we change the subject,” the redhead mutters scratching his neck, not meeting anyone’s gazes.

The conversation quickly moves on and Y/N finds herself still staring at George confused by his strange behaviour, also noticing the way her chest feels heavy at the mention of George’s ‘dream girl’. She pushes the feeling down and tears her eyes away from the redhead in front of her just before he glances up at her. The pair oblivious to the others intense gaze.

~ ~ ~

That night Y/N is snuggled up under her favourite fluffy blanket, on the couch, while some random romantic comedy is playing in the background.

Y/N has soon come to realise that tinder is addictive, she’s spent the better part of the last hour swiping through the many profiles. It doesn’t feel like she even has control of her fingers at this point, they apparently have a mind of their own.

Y/N starts to zone out, her finger automatically swiping for her. That is, until she stumbles across a particular profile and her finger freezes and her eyes bulge out of her head. Is that? George?

Y/N looks through his profile, there’s a picture that she had taken of him at the beach one summer, he’s lying on a towel, shirtless and the cheekiest grin plastered across his face. The next photo is of him and Ron from Harry’s surprise birthday Ginny threw last year. They are both looking smart in their suits, beaming brightly at the camera. Y/N can’t help but stare at George’s hand that’s wrapped tightly around a beer bottle, her mouth going dry as she zooms in on his veiny hand. There is also a photo of George from last Halloween where he had dressed as a pirate, Y/N chuckles, remembering how George had followed her around for most of the night, annoying her with his lame and corny pirate jokes. The last photo is her favourite out of them all. It’s of her and George at her recent birthday, he has his arm wrapped around her shoulder and his head resting against hers. The pair of them smiling widely at the camera.

Y/N bites her lip trying to decide if she should swipe left or right. She’s always had a soft spot for George long before she started dating Matthew. She knew deep down she harboured a tiny crush on her friend but never acted on it, scared she’ll ruin their friendship if she confessed her feelings. Y/N always fantasised about what it would be like to date George Weasley. She would happily bet her life savings that George would be the perfect boyfriend, would treat his girlfriend with respect and shower them with love and affection. It’s the type of relationship Y/N yearned for, the type of relationship she thought she had with Matthew.

Y/N stared down at the phone in her hand, contemplating her next move. The temptation to swipe right was huge, finally being able to find out if George liked her but there was the possibility that if she does swipe right she’ll find out that George does not like her in that way and she doesn’t know if she could physically take that knowledge right now. Part of her debates on swiping left, thinking that way she can live her life blissfully unaware to whether or not George likes her. The idea of being unsure of his feelings seems very appealing then definitely knowing he sees her just as a friend. A small voice in her head tells her to just delete the app and pretend this never happened.

Y/N groans at her overthinking.

Just choose Y/N.

“Fuck it,” Y/N mutters squeezing her eyes shut before swiping right.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few minutes, trying not to picture the upsetting scenario where they do not match, and Y/N has to deal with her unrequited feelings towards the boy. She takes a deep breath and slowly opens her eyes trying to focus back on the phone in her shaky hand. It takes a moment to process the words on the screen before Y/N is jumping up from the couch squealing.

It’s a match!

Her happy dance is interrupted when her phone dings, indicating a new message. Y/N swears her heart stops beating and she scrambles onto the couch to grab her phone.

George: Do my eyes deceive me or have I captured the attention of the lovely Y/N?

Y/N snorts at his message, butterflies erupting inside her stomach unable to get over the fact that George Weasley likes her.

Y/N: Consider yourself lucky Georgie, not many are worthy enough of my attention ;)

Y/N: But wait, I thought you didn’t have tinder? You said tinder wasn’t for you

George: I didn’t… well up until 1 hour ago. Fred convinced me to download it so I could try and find your profile. He said I should at least try and confess my feelings…

Y/N: And? What are your feelings?

George: that I am hopelessly in love with you. Have been since forever but I’ve been too chicken to admit it.

George: I was going to tell you I swear, but then you started dating that tosser Matthew and I lost my chance.

George: After you two broke up, Fred bugged me to say something to you but I knew it wasn’t the right time.

Y/N studies the messages. Long before Matthew was even a thought in her mind, she knew she would leap at the opportunity to date George. But that was before she had her heart shattered into a million of tiny pieces. She told Alicia and Angelina that she wasn’t ready to date, she didn’t think her heart could take it. And if this was any other guy, she would gently let them down. But this wasn’t just any guy, this was George Weasley. The man who never failed to make her smile and laugh till tears was streaming down her face. The man who help pick up the shards of her heart and help mend it back together. The man who would always answer her phone call, no matter the time of night. Y/N knew she’d be stupid to let go of George Weasley.

~ ~ ~

George was a wreck; he was pacing around his living room basically pulling out his hair with how much he’s run his fingers through it. It had been 30 minutes since he messaged Y/N and admitted his feelings, telling her he loves her. And she hasn’t replied!

George knew he shouldn’t have said anything, clearly Y/N was just curious about his profile, just wanting to see if they’d match and she definitely does not love him back let alone like him.

He wanted to throttle Fred for convincing him to make this stupid tinder account and embarrassing him like this, now George has gone and fucked up his friendship with Y/N.

George stops pacing when he hears knocking from his front door. His eyebrows knit in confusion about who would be visiting him at this hour. George chooses to ignore it, deciding he doesn’t want to see anyone right now, all he wants to do is open some vodka and drown his sorrows. He makes it into the kitchen when the knocking starts back up again, this time louder and faster.

“Okay I’m coming!” George shouts annoyed, “Jesus, I swear this better be import-” his words disappear as soon as he opens the door and is faced with Y/N.

“What are you doing here?” Georges words come out short and brunt, but Y/N doesn’t seem to notice.

She is fiddling with her fingers and anxiously chewing on her bottom lip. “I figured this wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to have over tinder.”

Y/N is silent, the words getting stuck halfway up her throat, she doesn’t really trust her voice to be steady enough to talk. So, she decides on another route of communicating her feelings to George.

Slowly she cups Georges faces in her small hands, forcing his eyes to meet hers. George seems frozen still as Y/N softly pulls his face to down towards hers, their lips millimetres from one another. She can feel his shaky breath on her face. It feels like forever before Y/N connects their lips together, George seems to snap out of his trance as his hands wrap tightly around Y/N’s waist, holding her body close. Their lips mould together perfectly and fireworks erupt in Y/N’s belly. She feels alive and her heart is thumping in her chest and all she can think of is George. George is clouding her thoughts and, in this moment, she doesn’t want anything else to ever occupy her brain. Her heart feels warm and whole as if George had kept the final piece of her heart in his possession to keep save until she was ready and willing to give him the whole thing. Y/N doesn’t feel scared anymore of the thought of loving someone again because she knows for certain now that she’s always loved George.

They pull away from the kiss, breathlessly, George rests his forehead against Y/N’s needing to feel close to her still.

A tear slips from Y/N’s eye which George softly kisses away.

“I love you too George. Always”

#George Weasley #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x you #George Weasley fluff #George Wealsey one shot #George Weasley oneshot #George Weasley fanfic #George Weasley fanfiction #Fred and George #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley imagine

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