#I can't wait to rp as her

[dopepoisonivyoncrack]

I knew being into BG3 will bring me back into Slayers and today I already woke up with Filia thoughts! I definitely want to do a playthrough as Filia ul Copt at some point and it will be the 1 run where I know for sure I won’t romance Astarion, but will try to befriend and help him as IC. And here is the thing… it won’t be easy but Filia was able to persuade Lina and the gang, even Zelgadis, to go along with her quest. Threatening Astarion won’t work like with Lina, but it got me thinking about Filia’s character.

In the beginning Filia was the type of character for whom the purpose excused the means. She had no qualms with threatening Lina and exploiting her weakest point - her sister - at least twice. She even proudly confesses this view while arguing with Xellos. It is wrong when Xellos does the same thing because he is a Monster, but it is right when she does it because her goal is better, morally superior, as a servant of the Gods. 

It is an important part of Filia that changes as the story progresses, especially when finding the truth about her kind’s past. The golden dragons dared to excuse a whole genocide for the so called purpose of peace and were down to do a lot more damage going by the same principle. It is clearly a fundamental view of the golden dragons that serve the Flarelord Vrabazard and proclaim themselves as the keepers of peace, and that was ingrained into Filia throughout her life at the temple and simply by living exclusively among them. 

Yet, in the face of all that happens starting with the scene where Almayce appears in the temple, she is capable of opposing it. She opposed her leader, her own kind’s teachings and views, she searched the truth of their history and faced with the grim proof she renounced priesthood. Sure, being exposed to Lina and the gang helped, but she genuinely retained enough freedom of mind and desire to do the right thing. I don’t think it was an easy thing to do. Centuries of views and beliefs don’t change in the spare of 5 minutes just like that. It would have been so easy to just obey the Elder, or even agree with him, when he wanted to give the Sword of Light to Almayce and sell the other worlds to doom as long as it meant to keep DarkStar out of this one (a deal that had no guarantee but Almayce’s word, that could have very well been a lie). Yet she did not. She thought for herself, and opposed the Elder, and sided with Lina and went on to search the proof for Valgaav’s serious accusations.

The whole story’s moral conflict revolves around this - does the purpose excuse the means? With everyone having their own stance, through which alliances are made or broken and conflict is born between parts of different views. And it is interesting how their views change, not just for Filia, but also for Almayce, for his pals, even for Xellos that comes to better understand his Master and his own stance in all this. Also can’t go without mentioning my favorite thing about TRY, that it questions the purpose itself! the purpose of the eternal battle between Gods and Monsters, the purpose of maintaining the current world, the balance, the peace.

I might have deviated a little but Filia starts as someone for whom the purpose excuses the means, and realizes that it is not always the case, and shows enough strength, freedom of mind and genuine desire to do good, and stand by what she believes is the right thing to do and not blindly follow her people’s ideas.

[notlumenera]

wet cat gains a cat

[welcomefortune]

What if you were a 24 year old Tevinter mage and God's most impulsive bitch and you were put in charge of saving the world? Anyways here's Lucretia Mercar I love her so much

[habitual-creatures]

Slenderverse oc in the making. Her name is Pyro (I’ll give you 3 guesses on why). Which picrew do you like best?

(This is for both Habit and Evan if that’s ok?)

PYROMANIA?

...What he said?

EITHER WAY, SHE'S PRETTY.

THE PRETTY ONES ALWAYS DIE IN REAL FUCKED UP WAYS...

Hey, now- that's - no??

ANYWAYS, MY PREFERENCE LIES IN THE SECOND ONE...

Same, honestly... though the other one is nice too.

[shireduchess]

mm i've skipped right into the I'm Mad stage of things, welcome to the fucking party

[wereh0gz]

Issue 69 (nice) is very good and very fun :]

[smiletimeisrunningout]

okay more Baldur's gate things because I'm definitely adding my Lex (half elf, wizard, criminal past, supposedly into knowedge?? the summary is: she's a weirdo with a personal code and lots of tadpoles) to my multi and yesterday it was hilarious:

I saved the thiefling and that's all that matters to me/Lex (don't know what I'll do when I'll try a less 'gotta protect the underdog even though I'm supposed to be a criminal' person), though I may have skipped forward too fast for a level 3 character in act 1 by killing all the goblin leaders, including the one we could have apparently recruited if letting those innocents be slaughtered. No wonder she gets along with Wyll best.

I had Volo rip her eye out by accident when pushing him to go on with his crazy experiment to remove the tadpole so now she can see invisibility with her prosthetic one. No, I will not be taking criticism or questions at this time (I need to rp the after because she was impossibly chill about it and that's canon)

Lae'zel came onto her??? Is that how you say when someone basically tells you she'd like to jump your bones? which is literally out of nowhere because as much as Lex finds her funny in my head, they disagree about everything, but because Lex didn't run away from giant fights (which I HATED, I was forced to, and I'm pretty sure Lex didn't want to do given her background) she was into her???? Obviously if I rp I won't ask another rper to replicate that, just to know that Lex would keep her and the others forever and have weird adventures because FUN. Also Lex NEVER takes her threats seriously nor shows all that respect, mostly she makes smartass or amused comments, but also got in the way so Shadowheart wouldn't kill her and won't criticize her for her way to live.

Shadowheart woken Lex up at night when almost killing Lae'zel WHILE SHE SLEPT (after the artifact fight) and she was saying she'd claim La'zel had started changing, so while I interrupted the fight peacefully there is no way Lex specifically as a character would ever grow super close/trust her again? I headcanon Lex is fine with people keeping their secrets, she does it too, but betraying trust and companions and lying about it, and the 'attacking a companion while they sleep'? Against her code. Even if she feels affection for her, she hasn't forgotten that Shadowheart wasn't exactly joking when she said 'huh I'd kill you right away' after Lex told her that if she (Shadow) turned she'd tie her up and go find a cure for her. She tries not to disrespect her faith and supports her, let her keep the artifact (and saved her on the ship at the beginning) so she thought they were getting closer, but this crossed the line even if Lex will still treat her as a friend and defend her.

ASTARION IS SO FUNNY. I stand by the idea that 'Lex will insult/roll her eyes at him at all times, but violently protect him with her life, she feels she's the only one who can be like 'shut the fuck up, Astarion' and won't let anyone else mistreat him unless it's a friendly thing, even told the others to trust him when they learned he's a vampire. I like the idea that she's very "I'm not buying any of your crap" to him, while unable to stop smiling at him and secretly worrying for him. Also I feel that when he sensed that she wasn't about to suggest sex at the druids party he was like 'I want sex... NOT WITH YOU' only because she wasn't giving him the vibe she'd say yes, otherwise they'd probably be considering it, even if it's just casually? Astarion was shockingly offended by Gale's reveal because 'he didn't tell his FRIENDS he was dangerous' he used the words "friends", he focused on that, me as a player and Lex as a character are so intrigued by that, considering that Lex herself didn't feel that personally slighted by Gale not telling the truth in general, just not liking that he might die nor that he didn't tell them he could "erupt" (also, if there had been a dialogue option for it, she'd have been like "you didn't tell you were a vampire and tried to bite me while I slept??" She gave him permission to do it once because she's a weirdo and it hurt, but it was such a dangerous thing). By the way, she told Astarion she can suck the enemies' blood but not hers, because it DID hurt and because she's not going to give her literal blood to people. She kinda looks at him softly when they are not bantering so there is that, and she drank his wine so. Weirdest relationship.

Wyll got horns and she's into the demon look. No but seriously, Wyll is the one she effortlessly gets along with and she likes so much (because they are both heroic even if she's not supposed to be) even though I accidentally started romancing Gale. She still thinks so very highly of Wyll even after knowing about him making a mysterious deal with the devil, never knew she wanted to be heroic too until meeting him and realizing she was choosing to fight for others all the time, the way no one ever fought for her. So help me god if the others don't rally up for her if she gets in danger.

Karlack is going to be her best friend, I can feel it. But she just arrived and I don't know much. 

We are in love with the dog.

I know nothing of Minthara, I killed her right away to protect the tieflings. 

I have Halsin in my camp but considering I didn't directly save him, I don't know him much

Wyll got horns and she's into the demon look. No but seriously, Wyll is the one she effortlessly gets along with and she likes so much (because they are both heroic even if she's not supposed to be) even though I accidentally started romancing Gale. She still thinks so very highly of Wyll even after knowing about him making a mysterious deal with the devil, never knew she wanted to be heroic too until meeting him and realizing she was choosing to fight for others all the time, the way no one ever fought for her. So help me god if the others don't rally up for her if she gets in danger.

I ACCIDENTALLY started romancing Gale to see if he'd respond well (when they performed a spell that bonded them a bit, so I reasoned she got a bit lost in it, and conjured the image of them having a romantic walk? she's weirdly sweet?) but I can feel that once he revealed his secret Lex pulled back because he not only hid it for so long, but can't deal with the 'sleeping with a goddess wasn't enough' which makes her think of how many tadpoles she put in her brain, even if she's still very friendly to him and kinda flirty, and I'm so curious to see where it'd go, but I think this was too big of a secret for her??

Karlack is going to be her best friend, I can feel it. But she just arrived and I don't know much. 

We are in love with the dog.

I know nothing of Minthara, I killed her right away to protect the tieflings. 

I have Halsin in my camp but considering I didn't directly save him, I don't know him much

We got Withers, Lex still can't believe a magical corpse is trying to get her money. He's is the equivalent of that guy in Spyro who asks you lots of diamonds to build bridges. It's hilarious.

Lex is shoving tadpoles in her head, she WANTS to be a cool wizard and I headcanon it's to protect herself because she lived a life of rejection and hunger, but in the end she's slipping into I NEED POWER TO SURVIVE. Yet she refuses to abandon companions who are a threat.

I literally made this post her unofficial about page in my multi.

[yuelongfx]

I had been debating whether or not to showcase the icons I've been working on for my multimuse. But after some thought I decided to at least showcase a few as I am immensely proud of how they're turning out.

[demon-blood-youths]

Daichi nods at what Miko says. "Yes! If anyone sees me exorcising or with friends, they think I'm Daichi and nor Kisho." He quickly explains to Miko. Eito purrs when he is being petted by her.

To Taz, it seems like everyone understood. But she is so happy that they're getting another student.

"I wasn't sure what was the best time to tell you. I want to make sure that Miko is capable of using cursed energy. I was planning to tell Gojo-sensei about it later." Daichi admitted, looking guilty now.

"Ow." Daichi lets out a yelp when Megumi dropped him on the ground. He has to rub his behind. Well...looks like everything ends well. Daichi is lucky this time.

In a way, he should thank Miko for this because he is glad that Miko is so understanding about it.

"I promise to teach you what I learn from my teacher and classmates." He said.

Miko blinks but she didn't say too much towards it, even with the shrine spirits hissing back but she looks. "H..Hey, easy you t..two." she mutters then looks to the group.

Nobara sighed but Yuji sweatdrops before Megumi looks quiet. "Indeed he is.." he said in a quiet tone. However, Yuji knew he was pissed. Miko blinks but as she tried to speak, she saw Daichi leaving off in a hurry. "H..Hey wait a moment!" she said.

"Don't worry I'll find him." Megumi said but quickly turns to chase him. "DAICHI, GET BACK HERE!" he said following him. Miko blinks to see this then saw Yuji and Nobara sweatdrop and Gojo trying not to laugh.

"D..did I say something w..wrong?" she asked.

"Oh no no, you didn't say anything wrong. This is normal." Nobara said laughing nervously.

[mortemhq]

MERLIN’S BEARD, ANASTASIA LESTRANGE (FLORENCE PUGH), IS THAT YOU?  it’s been so long – i thought you might’ve been dead! i mean, you never know in times like these. well, it’s good to have you back in the fight. come on now, there’s no time to waste – we need you to re-enter the fray within the next 48 hours, or else i fear all might be lost. don’t let us down – the world is counting on you.

[ she/her, woman ] greetings to all of our listeners! we start today’s potterwatch with a long-awaited update on anastasia thalia lestrange who was finally spotted alive just last night, wandering the streets of london. for those of you who haven’t tuned in before, they are a 23 year old pureblooded witch who is oddly reminiscent of the burn of firewhiskey chasing away failures, the insatiable craving to prove yourself, holding on to the nostalgia of better days, and pale scars shining on arms, which makes sense considering their loyal, hardworking, perceptive, cruel, pretentious, and insecure nature. you might know of them as the biological child of rabastan and octavia lestrange, and we’re sure that their family will be relieved to hear they’re safe and sound — or at least as much as you can be, in times like this. to all our listeners, if you catch a glimpse of someone who looks a bit like that muggle florence pugh, that’s them. before approaching, please be aware that they’re rumored to be affiliated with the death eaters, so best proceed with caution. these are dangerous times we’re living in. well, thanks for tuning in, folks. we’ll play ourselves out with throne by bring me the horizon. [ jess, 26, she/her, gmt ]

[froggyfanboy]

guys i forgot to take my meds and accidentally wrote my oc's entire lore instead of sleeping

[solarsteam]

◇I think it's pretty cool that I associate Lorelei with storms, or more specifically, supercell thunderstorms◇

[unsungabsurdity]

Alice's compliance is appreciated, proven by a little grin on Spencer's lips as she inflates the bladder. The stethoscope is positioned around her neck as she pumps the bulb, fingers poised on the release valve. She wiggles the chestpiece between Alice's skin and the paper-like fabric, putting one ear piece in while she watches the gauge dance around. Spencer is too focused on the readings to notice the temperature change, but the soldiers aren't. Morris, the overly-excited sadist, raises his gun.

"Hey-She's using her powers!"

His call to action has the others stepping back, readying their weapons. Spencer's gaze flicks to Alice's eyes, noting the milky white color covering her irises. She makes no move to get away or let the soldiers handle it. The eye color change is mostly what catches her attention, the temperature being an afterthought. When she realizes it's clearly just a bid for control, she lets it slide. Honestly, who could blame the young woman?

"That's a fun party trick." She speaks flatly while ripping the Velcro apart. There's no use in letting them shoot at her or locking her back up. The soldiers can stay cool for two more tests.

"Step back!" Morris demands. Spencer returns her items from the cart and retrieves a plastic package. The dogs are barking, and the sound is distracting. But just like with most of her problems, she ignores it in favor of continuing her work.

"Alright, open your mouth again." She keeps her tone level and calm, her attention all pointed at Alice as she rips open the plastic and removes the cheek swap.

"I said step back, McCafferty!" Morris talks over her, but it doesn't change anything.

"It's just this and the blood draw, then you're free to go." If Spencer can keep the bullets in the guns for five more minutes, she'll consider this a successful trip.

"that's news to me," alice replied, though perhaps maybe it wasn't. she might have heard something somewhere about it being bad for you, she just hadn't bothered to care. it got into her bloodstream faster that way, so she didn't really think whatever other effects it had on her were that serious. maybe she was wrong.

thinking about that while the scientist took her blood pressure went out the window when she told the guards to unlock her cuffs. alice watched them bicker over it, and for a moment she was actually enjoying herself. they all acted like they knew so much about her, but they didn't know she didn't need her hands. they were helpful and she could do more with them, but her abilities had always felt to her like they were in her head. they didn't seem to know that, but she did.

no promises, alice thought, smiling to herself as the blood pressure cuff was put on her arm. when she was mostly sure dr. mcafferty's attention was on the readings, alice focused her attention on dropping the temperature in the room just enough. it was the kind of thing that would have turned the water coming out of her shower into sleet if she'd thought to hard about why she was angry or how much she missed her mom in high school. she didn't want it to be cold enough to be a threat, just enough so that the guards would know. her hands never moved from where the doctor had positioned them, but she knew her eyes turned white just long enough for any number of the guards to notice.

[silverthief]

Here’s my sketch of Charmaine.

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Is my punishment almost over?" Emily asked her boyfriend, Joey.

"No, not yet, baby girl..... I think you need to learn your lesson a bit longer."

"But....! The tournament is in a month. How can I perform like this?"

"Not my problem.... You should've thought of that before being such a naughty girl, Emily."

Joey wasn't wrong, in a way..... Almost a year ago he started dating an Olympic silver medalist gymnast, who was known the whole world over for her skill and dexterity. Shortly after dating her, though, he was sent something damning by a random person online.... At the time, Emily was basically flat chested, yet had a cute butt and tended to give the cameras sensual, flirty looks, often blowing kisses and winking at the camera, sometimes bending over unnecessarily to give the people filming her something to zoom in on.....

Turns out when pervy guys reblogged these clips and admitted to masturbating to her performance, she would reply, happily encouraging them. On her official account, zero shame, her with the silver medal as her avatar. She'd tell these random men to 'milk their cocks good' and 'cum real hard for her tight little ass', like some porn star. Joey saw this and was very amused..... So, he decided Emily had to be punished--badly. He told her she had to obey him and take breast growth pills, to give the next national gymnastics tournament before the Summer Olympics a good show.

"I'm sorry, Joey..... you know I can't help myself. I love to flirt."

"Which just tells me how badly you need to be punished. Look at this one I found! Some random married guy posted that he wants to throw you in his van, hogtie you, and put 'a pile of kids in your pretty gut'. Did you block him....?"

She shook her head. "No....."

"Oh wait, you went on an extended RP session in the public comments about how he was going to abduct and rape you. Damn, you're one messed up girl."

"Messed up as a guy that makes his girlfriend grow a pair of boobs that weigh 50lbs each? Knowing she's a gymnast!"

"Nah, not as bad. But hey, think of all the hot interactions you'll have on Instagram now! You're gonna step out, not in your leotard, but a bikini, these gigantic udders spilling out. And you'll do your routine.... as well as you can. Think of how many guys are gonna jerk off to that."

"Fuck.... that's so hot." Emily bit her lip, fondling her pussy and breasts. "They're so heavy.... I look like an idiot with these things....."

"Well, you are an idiot. A horny, drooling idiot, too obsessed with fondling that swollen pussy of yours to care whether or not millions see you flirt with married men and RP getting knocked up by them."

"I'm.... it's just a little addiction, is all. I could try therapy...."

"Nah, I think you deserve to be nothing but walking jerk-off fodder. You're done being a real athlete. They'll just have you on because your oversized, goofy looking udders will make so many desperate, horny men tune in. And a whole bunch of normies to make fun of you."

"Fuck you.... you find these tits sexy..... You just came so hard inside me!"

"Well, I find them less sexy than I do the fact that I made you grow them. Understand?"

She nodded obediently. "Yes, master."

"Good girl, now, isn't it going to be fun watching you balance those giant tits and a belly full of my kids at the next tournament? Damn, by the time the Olympics roll around, those tits will weigh 100lbs each. Won't that be so fitting? I can't wait to see you even try to perform..... Then your career will be sitting on OnlyFans, immobilized by those cartoonish udders, masturbating all day like the drooling, horny idiot you really are deep down. You'll be flirting with your desperate, gross fans, all of your regular fans won't want anything to do with you as you sit there ten hours a days fondling yourself, surrounded by a pair of tits too big for you to carry on your own....."

"Fuck you...."

"Don't act like you don't agree. You aren't an athlete Emily, you aspire to be nothing but walking jerk-off material. So you might as well go for gold, isn't that right?"

Emily bit her lip, rubbing her heavy breasts. "Then I better go for 200lbs each...... be totally trapped by these things...."

"Now that's the perverted little idiot I love."

"I aim to please, Master. ❤️"

[fioiswriting]

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Summary : when you're married to your childhood sweetheart who becomes your enemy and you get lost in the terrible maze of politics.

[previous chapter] [masterlist]

Rating : None for now, will be explicit 18+ later MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader (There will be some Cregan Stark x Reader later)

TW :  none for now except not proofread. TW will be added as the story progresses.

Words count : 4408

AN : Hi everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. So, MONTHS later, I've finally decided to post chapter 2. Sorry for the wait.

[About this story This fanfiction is inspired by an RP I started with my girlfriend (@irmawrites, go check her work) in early 2023, which is still ongoing. My girlfriend writes for her OC (who is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent) as well as for Aemond and Cregan, while I write for my OC (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) as well as for Aegon and Cole mostly. This fanfiction doesn't cover exactly the same events, I've changed some things, added some others and omitted some. But it follows the main storyline. The character of Irma is a nod to my girlfriend and is based on another of her OCs (Alicent's niece). I'm keen to turn this story into fanfiction and I hope you'll like it! ❤️ I know there's a ton of fanfiction out there based on the Aemond x Rhaenyra's daughter trope. If you don't like it, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you've read too much of it, I'd suggest you read another fanfiction written by one of the many talented authors on this platform ❤️ The story will unfold in several arcs, with the first arc building up the relationship between the reader and Aemond. The tone is therefore lighter. The following arcs (which I can't wait to get to!!) will gradually introduce a lot more angst (my favourite thing to write). The tone will be radically different. Overall, the fanfiction will sometimes be based on elements of the book, and sometimes on the show, with my own interpretations. Please bear in mind that my dialogue will sound very "modern" because I struggle to write medieval dialogue in English, as it's not my mother tongue.]

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !! 

After all that talk, ENJOY <3

Chapter 2 : Familiarity

There was a sense of renewed familiarity. 

You had regained your childhood bedroom and with it your landmarks. Of course, you still missed Dragonstone. And that could seem strange to some - Dragonstone was just a damp cave, a pile of stones perched on a rock. You were in King's Landing, now. You lived in opulence, in a royal comfort unmatched by the perch above the sea where you had spent most of your youth. 

But Dragonstone had a charm you couldn't find in King's Landing. Perhaps it was the stillness of the library where you spent all your time, lost among the scrolls of parchment and the thick tomes, or perhaps it was the sound of the crashing waves that rocked you on stormy nights, you weren't sure.

But somehow a sense of familiarity had returned. Your old room hadn't changed much, despite Alicent's questionable alterations to the decoration of the Red Keep. You had found an old toy in the shape of a dragon, and even some old paper on which you had practised your precise handwriting under the strict gaze of a stern Septa when you were a child. It was a memory frozen in time, a kind of testimony to the past. A room that reflected the little girl you were when you left King's Landing.

But perhaps you could change it to your liking, to reflect the young woman you had become. Perhaps it was a way of keeping you occupied before you left again. After all, your mother had promised that your stay would only be temporary. Just time to sort out some inheritance issues. Time to try and heal your family's wounds. Time to secure your family's future. As if the hope of you all rested on your shoulders; the only guarantee that your family wouldn't descend into a bloody escalation, or something like that. 

And yet, even though you'd only been here a short time, you'd already gotten into trouble, and it was Aemond himself who had to rescue you. You hated the idea.

You hated the fact that he'd come to your aid.

You hated the fact that you owed him, that you were indebted to him.

Fortunately, your little escapade hadn't been reported - you didn't want to disappoint your mother, or see the reproachful look on her face, even though you were aware that she might not be in the best position to make a comment. You were close to your mother. You were her eldest. You were her only daughter. She cherished and loved you, and you knew you could share everything with her. But you cherished your secret freedom, and you feared that her concern for her only daughter would give her the bad idea of assigning you closer supervision.

You didn't need a chaperone. You valued what little freedom your condition as a daughter afforded you.

As you slipped under the sheets, your thoughts kept returning to Aemond. The way he'd protected you, the way he'd carried you on his shoulder - it was humiliating, you weren't an object. And the way you had planted a kiss on his cheek. An impulsive act. A foolish act. You had to admit that you weren't averse to doing it again.

It just didn't make sense. Why had he come looking for you when he'd never answered your letters? He'd probably felt superior, after calling you and your brothers bastards, he'd probably decided you weren't good enough to be his friend anymore.  All this time, all these years, you'd been waiting for a word from him - a mere reply to the letters you'd sent. It never came. You concluded that your friendship had ended, in silence, after all you had done for him; after reassuring him, after holding his hand while the maester tried to repair the broken flesh on his face as best he could.

Had he really been your friend for even one day, or had it all been a facade, a role he'd played? Had he ever been sincere?

You were furious.

Rhaenyra had stroked your hair through every disappointment that gripped your heart like the loving mother she was. Daemon - Daemon had soothed you in his own way, telling you again and again that Aemond wasn't a good man, and that you would save your heart by forgetting him.

But now he had come looking for you. Something had changed. He had taken a step in your direction. You were lost. You were angry, but it was not just anger. There was something else underneath that pile of confusion and resentment. His approach unsettled you. Every step he took towards you, every word he said, sent a whirlwind of conflicting emotions through you. A burning curiosity. An irresistible attraction. 

You hated yourself for thinking it, but maybe your betrothal wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe you could retrieve the complicity of your childhood.

Maybe it had never really disappeared.

In the early hours of the morning, the smell of warm bread tickled your nose even before you felt the warmth of the sun's rays through your chamber window. You rolled onto your side to steal a few more minutes of comfort, stifling a grunt into your pillow. You waited fatefully for the moment when Celia or Jeyne would come and wake you.

"Wake up you lazy groundhog, you've got things to tell me!" 

But the high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that echoed around your room wasn't Celia's, and it certainly wasn't Jeyne's. You sat up immediately, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you, your fingers rubbing your tired eyes to make sure you weren't dreaming. 

Irma Hightower was standing in your room, in a gown more extravagant than ever. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms.

"It was usually me who overslept in the morning and you who had to wake me up," Irma exclaimed, placing the tray she carried awkwardly under her arm on the table with a loud clatter, causing the tea to overflow from the cup and drip onto the wooden table. "But I reckon that sneaking out seems tiring." She punctuated his remark with a knowing wink before dusting off her dress as if she'd just worked in the straw or done the most strenuous physical labour in the world.

Still too sleepy to make sense of your friend's words, you frowned as you looked around for your two handmaidens, the ones who woke you up every morning, helped you get dressed and brought you your meal. "Where are -"

"I dismissed them for the rest of the morning," Irma replied without letting you finish the sentence. That explained the tray and the near disaster. "But here's your breakfast. Gods, did you know a tray was thatheavy? " She paused briefly, barely giving you time to wake up properly.

Irma Hightower was a tornado. She swept away everything in her path - she carried away hearts and minds with equal ease, leaving a whirlwind of chaos behind her. Wherever she went, she stirred the air with unbridled energy, forcing others to adapt to her frenetic pace or be wiped out by her determination. But it would be a lie to say you weren't happy to see her. You sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling before tilting your head to one side. A smile curved the corner of your lips as you watched your friend. You wondered what Irma was doing in your room in the early hours of the morning, especially when, last you heard, she was supposed to be in Oldtown furthering her education. 

To tell the truth, you might have had an idea why she was here. You just didn't want to subject yourself to your friend's interrogation - some secrets should remain your secrets.

And what you'd done yesterday was one of them.

"'So?" she asked with a mixture of overflowing curiosity and impetuosity, her brown curls twirling around her face.

"So what?" you sighed as you went behind your dressing screen to remove your nightgown. You slipped into a flowing ocean-blue dress adorned with pearls and embroidery - one of your favourite gowns, a creation that reminded you of your favourite element: the sea. 

Unlike your brothers, you weren't made of fire and blood. You were made of sea and storm, and you knew deep down that this was perhaps hypocritical - your own appearance reminded you of it every day. But it was what your heart had always told you, and you'd come to believe it, too. The feeling of your feet in the water and the breeze on your face, its salty taste against your lips, was the one that brought you the most comfort. 

"So what happened yesterday ?” Irma insisted. Her voice grew impatient. "I saw you.”

But you ignored her, busy wriggling to reach the lacing at the back of your dress. In vain. You weren't flexible enough. "Since you've decided to play the handmaid today, help me get dressed," you replied, appearing on one side of the screen, your hands gripping the fabric tightly, your back to her. Irma rose with a long sigh - it was just for show, you knew - and came over to you. You smiled mischievously. You had to admit that you enjoyed seeing her in this role, so opposite to who she really was. You wondered what her time in Oldtown had been like; whether she'd been treated like the spoilt brat she truly was, or whether, on the contrary, she'd had to learn patience, faith and discipline - all qualities that didn't characterise her. 

"I could actually keep you as my lady in waiting, you know. You'd be good for that. Forced to follow me everywhere, I'd love that." 

You didn't need to see her to know that she rolled her eyes. " I am the Queen's niece. I was made for more than that."

When her fingers became tangled in the lacing of your dress, she spoke again, her voice caressing the back of your ear as she tugged at the lacing with a little more force: "You haven't answered my question."

How could you forget that Irma was so perceptive? And above all, how could you forget that when Irma wanted something, it was impossible for her not to get it? You weren't going to get away. She would insist, until you fell for her angelic pout and her round eyes that tried to win you over.

It reminded you of your shared youth - the times you spent together, swapping secrets and gossip, talking about your joys and sorrows. You had been inseparable before you were forced to return to Dragonstone, and she to Oldtown. 

"Nothing happened. At least nothing like you may think," you admitted, turning to smooth the front of your dress. You whirled around, the fabric rising gently around you like a bluish wave. "How do I look?"

"I wouldn't describe being carried around like a sack of flour on your dark uncle's shoulder as nothing. Especially in your family." 

Irma inspected your outfit, her eyes expertly examining you from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, looking for the slightest detail that would have spoiled her work. She brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face.

"Did he kiss you?" Her eyebrows arched, her mouth forming a playful pout of false surprise. She was clearly determined to decipher your every secret, to expose them. You hesitated for a moment, to cast doubt, to let her imagine more - but you were afraid of the repercussions this might have on you. You weren't sure that Irma knew how to hold her tongue. And you didn't want to risk exposing yourself to Aemond's irritation over false rumours. Not when you'd planned to play with him a bit; to prove to him that you had the upper hand, that you could have him wrapped around your little finger and drive him mad. You were still suspicious of him. You hadn't really figured him out yet. You just knew he'd changed since the last time you'd seen him, but you weren't sure how much.

"No, he didn't kiss me," you repeated, putting the same emphasis on the word as your friend. You walked over to the table to sip your still steaming cup of tea. You could feel Irma's round eyes on your back - she was waiting for you to say more. She probably had a dozen unanswered questions: why had Aemond brought you back like this? Where had you been? Who had you been with? What had you done? But you didn't answer right away, biting into the crusty bread.

"He just... came to fetch me," you finally admitted between two bites, your mouth half full - it was a far cry from the princess manners in which you'd been raised. Sitting on your bed, Irma stared at you with her brown eyes - the same as her aunt's. "I was with Aegon. In King's Landing. And I got lost."

That was enough. Irma didn't need to know everything; after all, it wasn't a lie if you only omitted certain details that you deemed relatively unimportant.

Or that Irma didn't need to know.

But the revelation provoked a silence. Your friend didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed, revealing a fine line between her eyebrows, and her lips pursed into a bitter pout. She looked troubled, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I didn't know you were close to Aegon."

If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have detected the note of reproach in her voice. Was it jealousy? Was your friend jealous of the time you spent with Aegon?

You weren't sure you understood. He was married - and more importantly, as you remembered, Irma hated him for his debauchery and the alcohol he drank to excess. 

But this was no time to argue, and you preferred to play it safe. There would be plenty of time for your investigation later, when Irma's suspicions would be at rest. "He's my uncle and... he suggested he show me the streets of King's Landing because I was feeling bored." 

And the idea seemed liberating at the time. A moment of stolen freedom, away from the court, away from your duties. Where you were no longer the model princess, the paragon of virtue, but just another girl, lost in anonymity. You weren't sure she understood - she'd always loved the court, the gowns and the politics. You too, of course. It would be a lie to say you weren't made for it; for the life your status as a princess could offer you. You cherished the comforts and loved the responsibilities that came with your role. But sometimes those same responsibilities – and duty above all - stifled you. You needed solitude. To be somewhere else.

"It's dangerous. You could have been harmed!" Irma said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of concern and annoyance. "You can't just follow a man like Aegon into the city," she sighed.

Some truth was hidden in her words, and you were aware of your lack of rationality, of the stupidity of your foolishness. The danger you had put yourself in, too, for if Aemond hadn't intervened... You didn't want to think about it. The dirty hands and lecherous looks those men gave you still made you shudder. All those risks for an illusory feeling of freedom, wasn't it a high price to pay?

Aemond had come for you. The humiliation still burned on your cheeks. 

"Lost in your thoughts?" Irma asked impatiently, offering you her arm as if she'd waited too long for you to come out of your reverie, "thinking about your Prince Charming again?"

You gave her a little tap on the arm, your eyes raised to the sky at the broad smile that stretched her lips, but you accepted her invitation anyway. "Fine, let's go. I heard that they are training this morning. And I know you're not indifferent to Dornish charm." You winked at her. And arm in arm, you and Irma walked through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the courtyard.

Aemond's movements were precise and swift. Faced with Ser Criston's Morningstar, he moved skilfully, as nimble as a cat. You leaned against the parapet of the ramparts; your eyes riveted on the two silhouettes that seemed to be dancing in the courtyard amidst the small crowd that had gathered around them. Irma didn't miss a moment of the spectacle, and you wondered if there was a man she didn't find charming.  Aemond, probably.  You knew she didn't bear any affection for him - he was too serious, too stern. Too scary, too.

"Did you get tired of Oldtown, is that why you're here?" you asked teasingly, glancing briefly at Irma.

She leaned towards you as if to share a secret, not taking her eyes off the show the two men were offering. "They didn't want me anymore," she confided. "I used to drive the maesters and the septas mad. It was amusing."

You should have known better. Irma was too stubborn and brash to be around men and women who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. She was intelligent, there was no denying that, but she lacked the patience and diligence that the study of texts demanded. Though she had spent her childhood in King's Landing, perfecting her courtly education at her aunt's side, her rebellious attitude had sent her straight back to Oldtown. And then, she had threatened the Maesters and the Septas - she belonged at Court and she was convinced of it.

"And how is Daeron?" 

"As courteous and charming as ever," she replied. 

Aemond disarmed Cole and everyone applauded; including Jace and Luke, who you could recognise in the crowd. Your betrothed's eyes shifted from the spot he was staring at in the crowd - your brothers? - and looked up at you for a moment. You wondered if Aemond had seen you, if he had felt your gaze on him, and if that was why he had become fiercer in his attacks. A strange sensation arose in your belly, as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, making your heart beat faster.  You forced yourself to suppress your emotions, which you blamed on all the time you'd spent away from Dragonstone. You refused to admit that it was Aemond's gaze that you sought more than any other, especially after the events of the previous day. Especially when you could still feel his skin against yours, his firm hands around your body, his face just a few inches from yours.

You wondered what had possessed you to kiss him on the cheek. 

You wanted to play with him, that was certain. But you refused to subject your heart to the whims of love. Not after the heartache you'd felt when you found out he'd forgotten you so easily.

It was nothing serious.

You met Aemond's gaze. The intensity of his lilac eye had this very capacity to send shivers down your spine.  He didn't even crack a smile, and looked away as if nothing had happened.

"I'll see you later," Irma said, squeezing your arm, before turning on her heels to - presumably - find some male company. Once you were alone, you walked down the steps that led from the ramparts to the courtyard. Your steps instinctively brought you to where Aemond was standing, ready to sheathe his sword.

If he seemed surprised to see you, he didn't show it. His icy eye rested on you, unreadable as ever.

"Lady Strong."

"We should talk," you began, ignoring the unpleasant way he had just addressed you. Lady Strong. The nickname left a sting of humiliation, and under normal circumstances you would have reacted. You would have defended yourself, you would have thought of something witty to retort - but today you had decided to take a step towards peace. You had decided to show that you hadn't come here with any animosity, even though everything inside you was screaming to make him swallow his insolence.

"There is nothing to talk about," he replied mechanically. Cold. Distant. Disinterested. Syllables sharp and icy. 

But yes, there were a thousand things to talk about; the betrothal that would lead to your certain future marriage, the events of yesterday, the letters he had never answered, his hostile and cold attitude towards you. There were all these things and more, but neither of you seemed to know how or where to begin.

"About yesterday -"

"I haven't spoken a word to anyone. Your little secret is safe with me. You can rest assured, niece."

That's not what you meant. It wasn't that you wanted to talk about - it was everything around it; it was the reasons, it was how he had found out, it was the consequences, it was the kiss on his cheek, it was the thick tension between you that you were sure he had felt too. It was all these things.

You took a step towards him. Suddenly you felt yourself bubbling. And as if you'd grown wings, you closed the distance between you without looking away.

"Why?" you asked, your tone more urgent. You wanted to push him over the edge. You wanted him to admit what you knew for a fact that he would never be able to. "You could expose me. Tell everyone about my little escapades. Make me lose all credibility. End our betrothal." You paused, leaning your body towards him, your warmth mingling with his.

You felt him hold his breath. He tensed, straightening his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side to watch you.

"Why exactly would I do that, Lady Strong?"

Because you hate me, you were tempted to reply. Because you hate me, just as you hate my brothers. Because you cut me off all those years ago, without a word. And despite all the affinities that could bring you together, despite the fond memories of your shared childhood and your closeness, despite the love you harboured for him, you were loyal to your siblings, like he was to his. Whatever you did, you would always be associated with them. Your family. So wasn't it normal for him to see you as an extension of the hatred he felt for them?

At your silence, he continued, this time in High Valyrian: "I am not the one who despises the other. You know that."

Hate was nothing more than a form of passion.

But you weren't sure it was hate you felt for Aemond - no, the hate would come later, stronger, hotter than ever.  For now, you felt disappointment and a form of betrayal after the friendship that had bound you together for more than a decade. 

"I am not the one who is determined to make you my enemy." 

Enemy, like water to fire. Trying to destroy each other by nature.

"And yet, you treat me like one," you replied. Sharpness staining your voice. 

He let out a hm. He was still staring at you; the sensation was almost disturbing. He took a step in your direction, violating your breathing space. You had to lift your head to maintain eye contact. Then he leaned towards you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly in a smirk.

"I wouldn't have come to rescue you if you were my enemy."

The words barely out of his mouth, he straightened and took a step back, giving you the courtesy to walk away as your cheeks turned red. You didn't need him to remind you of what had happened yesterday. The memory was still frozen in your mind, clear and intact. The ghost of his touch like a burn. You wondered if he felt the same; if he thought about your lips on his cheek, if they had left an invisible, indelible mark on his skin, like his fingers on yours.

You had to change the subject. Quickly. Before you got caught at your own game. 

Your hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword on the table beside the training area. You lifted it. It felt heavy in your hand, still warm from Aemond's grip.

It was strange, this power in your hand. A weapon that could take a life. Too big and unsuitable for your delicate fingers, but fascinating. 

"Teach me."

"No," he replied immediately, following your every move with his icy gaze, as if he feared you might hurt yourself. You rested the heavy sword on the wooden table before turning. You approached him again.

"Daemon taught me how to use a dagger. At least he taught me where to aim to hurt." You flatten your hand against his chest, just below his ribcage. His body stiffens beneath your palm. "He said it was to protect me from dangerous men." Your gaze travelled from your hand to his eyes.

Aemond chuckled. He didn't try to push you away. On the contrary, he kept your hand pressed against him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he guided your hand to his jugular, where you could feel his heart throbbing against your fingertips.

"First lesson: that is where you aim to kill." Caught off guard, you tried to withdraw your hand, but Aemond held it in place, your fingertips on his skin, your eyes both searching and challenging each other. The air was charged. Tense. Like a cloud before a storm. You held your breath. "But you wouldn't dare hurt a fly."

He released your wrist and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to step back until your back hit the table. He leaned in. His face so close to yours that you could almost feel his warm breath melting into yours. A few inches and you could close the gap between your lips. A few inches and -

"Well, niece. I hope to see you for dinner. And, of course, I expect you to behave."

With that he released you. With that, he turned on his heel. 

He stopped. And without looking back, he added: "And please. Don't make a habit of me saving you. 

Well, you were evenly matched.