#LOVE this set queen can't wait for the masses to see it.

[meongppangz]

✿ happy birthday seo changbin! 99.08.11 ✿ ⟶ leo sun, leo moon, cancer mercury, virgo venus, scorpio mars

[its-actually-minicika]

Hi, love your works so much! Can't wait for more updates 🥰🥰 I was wondering maybe you'd like the idea where book!Aemond and Velarion!(Strong?)Reader are in an arranged marriage. But Reader just knows what to say and how to act so that Aemond is wrapped around her finger (kinda thought of Margaery and Joffrey situation, she was such a talented schemer, worthy of winning the Throne 😭). I don't really know about the setting, like if it's before, during or after the Dance... just thought it'd be interesting to see this kind of plot with our beloved Prince 🤴🏼🐉

If you don't like it, just ignore me 🙈

Dragon Sickness (18+)

Pairing: bookcanon!Aemond x Strong!Niece!Reader

Warnings: No usage of (Y/N), Greens win AU, bookcanon Greens, the obvious Targaryen incest, mentions of major character deaths (we're entering spoiler grounds, but not really), blood, gore etc.

Word Count: 3.5K+

Author's Note: I fell in love with this idea the moment I saw it! I ended up altering the plot line for this one-shot a little bit - the reader will definitely grow into the Margaery architype, but today you shall see her as she was when she just learned how to make ends meet with her newfound life at Court.

I don't know if I should turn this into yet another series, but if you guys enjoyed this, let me know

Also, thank you so, so much for your kind words ♡ i'm hugging you to the moon and back!

PART 2 IS OUT NOW ♡♡♡

Who could ever blame you for your indiscreet acts? Alliances change when the world you know suddenly turns upside down.

She remembered how weak she was. How scared she had been.

How her eyes widened into two brown specs of uncertainty, how her mouth fell agape, as she mulled over Alicent’s words.

‘You shall marry Aemond within the next moon turns. For the good of the Realm.’

The Dowager Queen had openly admitted to being against the match – of course, the prospect of her perfect son, married off to a lowly bastard of Rhaenyra's (otherwise said, her last surviving child), didn’t specifically thrill her. Much less her demanding and scornful father.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. And if the Velaryon wanted to keep her head away from a spike, she had no other choice but to comply.

Although… she wasn’t a Velaryon now, was she? Aegon the Usurper made sure of that.

His final gift to her was to strip her of all her titles. She had been openly declared a bastard – before the masses, before the Court.

With a wide smile upon his burnt lips, the “King” had told her she’d be a Targaryen instead. Driftmark wouldn’t matter, her legacy wouldn’t matter. Aemond would inherit the seat with the Usurper’s blessing, as a homage brought to his able fighting and his shown bravery on the bloody battlefield.

Never mind that he’d never partaken in a fight; save for the one that killed her stepfather, Daemon, and sent her poor mother in a downward spiral. Aemond had chosen his adversaries wisely, and managed to go through the whole war without as much of a scratch upon his silver armour.

‘I shan’t marry your son. Not now, not ever.’ Her own voice rang out.

‘You will do exactly as demanded.’

‘I would rather die than bear the treacherous children of that monstrous beast.’

A monstrous beast. That is what Aemond was.

And that is what he shall remain. No matter how many gifts he brought to her. No matter how many hours of their days and days in their weeks and weeks in their months they spent promenading those ghastly gardens.

‘You will if you know your best interests. Your own head may hold no value to you, but a single swing of my son’s sword would be enough to bring forth the ruin of House Blackwood.’

At first, she’d been restless in her attempts to escape the Keep. Her every waking hour was spent shamelessly inside the Sept, where she prayed not for the safety of her brothers’ souls, but for revenge against the mutted Greens.

The slight breeze of the cathedral mended her flesh from the heat of summer. And no one dared to approach or talk to her. The quietness was a welcomed deed.

During the first night of their betrothal, her glossy eyes scanned Aemond’s face. His hands wantonly gripped at his thighs and a slight twitch of his mouth, accompanied by an elongated hum escaped his lips.

There was no other discernable expression. And when he led her to the chambers of her early girlhood, he merely bowed and kissed her hand.

She spent the first night of their betrothal scraping her knuckles so harshly, that they broke and cracked under the stimulation of the cold water.

Her thirst for vengeance ceased after the first two months. Her wedding date was approaching swiftly, and she found herself faced with the abhorrent truth. She had no allies. No more friends at Court. The girl had shut herself in her tiny room, losing her mind with the pain and grief that flooded her at night: the faces of her mother, her brothers, her father. The sound of their screams and their endless pleas for help.

Every night, without a fail, she woke up tormented by nightmares – her throat burning with absolving shrieks of fear, exacerbated breaths of air and flimsy nightdresses, damp throughout by breaks of sweat.

The first night she lashed out onto her bedding was the night she found out Aemond had moved his Quarters next to hers. He yanked the door open and stepped into the light of her candle – looking ravished, completely out of breath and startled. Started not for his own accord and safety, but for the state that his future wife had been in.

‘Shit, it’s alright, I’m here–’

The echo of his mellow voice deterred her to let out a blood-curdling scream, that would have rivalled even the one of the late Queen Rhaenyra, after Aegon the Usurper ceased her at Dragonstone, and reeled his dragon to eat her whole.

‘Get the fuck away from me! Get the fuck out of my room!’

Her sobs pierced into the man’s heart, but his hurt expression was masked quickly with one most bitter and taciturn. He clenched his fists ruefully by his side, and spat out an apology in a low and dangerous tone.

‘As you wish.’

And how dearly he loved those words:

‘As you wish.’

'As you desire.’

Even though nothing had been, or ever will be, as she achingly wished them to.

“You could at least attempt to look happy.” His chastising tone rained upon her, as his Lady remained hammered in her seat. Maids flocked to her like lost chickens to their cock, arranging her hair and picking out dresses fit for their engagement parade.

Her face contorted into the mirror, and a faint sigh beleft her lips. Carefully she turned around, reflecting his stance with a subtle arch to her shapely brow.

“It’s bad luck to see your bride before the wedding ceremony.”

“An old wives' tale. And one that applies only on the day itself.”

“Perhaps we should encourage tradition more. Make it so we don’t cross paths at all til then.”

Just as fast as it came, the feral look dissolved over his tired face. Aemond heaved out a heavy exhale and merely settled to growl at her maids.

“Leave us. Now.”

A discontented look painted over her fair features. His niece opened her mouth in protest, to try and stop the fleeing girls from truly making their escape.

“I must remind my Prince that the engagement assembly will be held in less than an hour. I believe I should like them to stay.”

The gathered women exchanged lost and protruding glances, until the former King Regent spoke again.

“They will leave us at once.”

“They’ll do no such a thing. They must make haste to get me ready. We wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

“I’m more than capable of lacing up a loose bodice.”

The tight expression on her face deserted her features with the leave of his smug retort. She swallowed thickly in enraged abandon, and silently beseeched her ladies not to leave her all alone.

Still ravishing her with his bold stare, Aemond stepped another foot into the cosy confinements of her tidy prison. “If I’m to turn around now and find any of you standing before me, I’ll arrange that you’re all flogged and defiled beyond the utter of salvation.”

Brisk footsteps swallowed the room, echoing wildly through the narrow dark hallways. The former Velaryon shook her head in disarray, and graced her soon-to-be-husband with a tight smile and a nod.

“Congratulations.” She uttered humorously, “I should enjoy looking like a fool tonight much more than being proper by your side.”

As if drowned below a trace, Aemond took another step in the direction of the frowning Princess. His face remained impenetrable, but as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice ran meek, unsure and hoarse.

“Turn around.” He commanded her gently, whilst grabbing a deep green garment from the cluttery made on her bed. Despite her lack of desire to abide by his request, the woman turned her back to him and muttered slowly, though much softer than intended.

“I don’t like that one. It’ll make the skirts look out of place.”

“Which one do you want, then?” His whisper had made her draw in a sharp gasp; the warmth of his breath fell soothingly over the nape of her neck, caressing her delicate skin in a way she hadn’t known was possible.

“The red one with black lacings.”

His hand came to spin her back around, and their noses nearly touched together. A smile tugged at the ends of his upturned lips, but the look inside his eye remained frigid and unforgiving.

“Your petticoat won’t be those colours.”

A conceited scowl graced her face. She reached her hand behind him and skillfully snatched one of a different design. “Fine. I want to wear this one, then.”

The obnoxious blue and silver danced across her paling skin. And if Aemond weren’t so dazed by their proximity and lack of air, he might have laughed at her feeble attempts of vexing him.

“Those are Velaryon hues.”

“Perfect. I shall honour my house well.”

“You are not a Velaryon to grace them with such a feat.”

“No, you are absolutely right. Your brother did name me a Targaryen.”

Their faces were so close to each other, that their moving lips were almost touching.

“Yet I can’t wear black and red either.” A prompted look disarmed the Prince, “It is all very confusing.”

His lone orb descended to her puffing bosom, but Aemond soon directed himself upon a more elusive image. His fingers twitched with the need to grab a hold of her – to pull away those last pieces of cloth that shielded her away from view.

“You know full well why I can’t allow that.” He hummed in unmoving disapproval, “As much as I enjoy your voice and the raptures of your closeness, I must say this conversation bores me.”

“I should be able to wear what I want.” Came her prompt and swift reply, “But of course, Your Grace, forgive me. ‘Tis not for men to pounder on laces and brims.” Her palms took to rest upon his bulging chest, and the girl nearly removed them at once, as the thrumming of his heart enterlaced with her slim fingers. Still, she furrowed her brows in a most perplexed of mockeries, and insatiably drove on, “Indeed resilient men such as yourself occupy their time much better.”

The callouses of his hands fell heavily upon her cheeks.

“Fucking their ways through brothels, getting their pricks wet, and fantasising about wars.”

The harshness of his next tug nearly broke her brave facade – her eyes widened in mistrust, and a slight recoil braced over her straightened back. Her small fingers clasped over his shaking wrist, which held onto her face with a gentleness untoward; one completely mismatching with the predatory glimmer in his eye.

The man he was, and the man he was trying to be would surely never mend to one.

A Kinslayer. A monster. A divergent freak.

Nothing more, and nothing less.

His thumb played absent-mindedly at her lower lip, and the young Princess tried her damnest not to bite him. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?”

“You are as imprudent as you are beautiful. A family trait, I assume.”

“You have my gratitude for the flattering commentary. I’m very proud of my heritage.”

His lilac orb bore into her, and the man let out a reserved laugh, “Your bastard brothers were ample proud. Look where that brought them.” The rough end of his hand gripped her own painfully, before she could make for a swing at his handsome face. “Lost in the seas, rotting at the bottom of an ocean, nestling inside Sunfyre’s belly.”

While her hands were clasped together, her mouth wasn’t sown shut. With a single and effective move, she spat harshly in his face, eliciting a groan from her broader perpetrator.

Though his nostrils flared up in disdain, the man graced her with a calculated smirk. “Did I strike a nerve with that one?” He mocked her with feigned interest.

“Fuck you,” She hissed out slowly, “Don’t you dare talk of my family – my brothers were ten times the man you are.”

“Oh, but I have every right to talk about your family. Given that I will be yours quite soon.” Once more he forced her to turn around, and kneeled over to her spasming form, to begin dressing her up; in nought else, of course, but the mundane silks of his choosing.

"Doesn't the prospect thrill you? To become my lady-wife, to finally bear a true Targaryen inside your royal womb?"

So hopeless and defeated she felt, that the youth jerked herself relentlessly, while repeating him the same plethora of words. “You cannot force me to be your whore. You cannot force me to wear this. I will not bear your Hightower green.”

Aemond could feel his patience running thin – and when her foot came into contact with his setting knee, the man let out a ferocious growl, and promptly trapped the girl in his arms, with the aid of a nearby wall.

“So you want to be difficult? You don’t want to wear this? Hmm? Well, who am I not to abide my Lady’s burning wishes?”

The sharpness of his dagger came into quick contact with the milky skin of her thighs. And she might have almost screamed, if Aemond didn’t immediately pull himself away. His hard chest grazed hers for but a moment, as the Prince cast his attention to her moving shadow.

“If you wish not to attend our engagement parade wearing the clothes I’ve chosen for you,” He muttered against her face, a scorned look adorning his own, “Then you won’t be wearing anything at all.”

She huffed out a dispensing pant and pursed her lips into a tight line.

She remained rigid and poised, until a spark of amusement swirled into her eyes.

The first crack was that of a lax smile. The next, a tremor to her lips. The calm before the storm approached, until all rattled down with a mirthed laugh cascading from her reddened lips.

“Do you mean to frighten me with this promise?” She asked through the arch of an uncertain brow, “As if every man in this cursed Keep won’t get to watch me whore myself out to you anyway, when our wedding night will come?”

His face suddenly hardened at the notion of their reality – as if he didn’t give much thought to the bedding ceremony. To his Lady being watched by a thousand other eyes but his.

Aemond suddenly darkened, and his fist came into contact with a near spot on the wall, so awfully close to her frightened, paling face.

She watched with wide eyes how his stare contorted from one of realisation to one of fury. He stiffly peeled his body away from hers, and strained himself to leave her be. The jealous and possessive knots that churned painfully inside his stomach burned his skin upon the surface, and constricted the air he brashly took in.

He nodded to her in a spry and calloused manner, and brought his hand out to touch her cheek. His knuckles had begun to bleed, busted by the force of impact that his fist had faced for him. Behind his eye danced a look of seldom shame – he gnawed harshly at his bottom lip, and pondered, for a while, on apologising to his niece; for his lack of princely conduct, for his show of impropriety – for his inability to keep himself at bay.

Still his thoughts failed to merge to words, and so the man ran his eye one final time over her defensive pose, and merely left her standing there.

As if turned into a statue, the girl barely registered the lethargic closing of the door, the hurried and heavy footsteps that travelled further and further away from her quaint and cluttered space, and the animated curse that slipped past her uncle's throat.

Did he just dare to leave her there, with her petticoat half up her legs, in nought else but a flimsy nightdress?

At first she thought that his avoidance was a blessing in disguise.

For after clashing wits with Aemond, and after his swift hurried departure, the man had barely graced her with another word.

His hand held onto hers for the whole duration of the procession. He wordlessly forced her to dance two dances, and led her to her Quarters as soon as she mentioned that she was tired.

But his palms didn’t linger on the shape of her narrow waist – his lips barely grazed her knuckles, and Aemond turned with lest a word to add after their fake sympathies were exchanged.

Had he gotten bored of her? Realised what a terrible match they made, and begged his mother on his hands and knees to break off their ill engagement?

For the first time in a while, a new notion of fear engulfed her.

The Greens couldn’t kill her. Of that, she was almost certain. It wouldn't be a wise move, and it would anger the North beyond the power of salvation. The war had had its say on every army that fought into it, yet the Crownlands were especially weak.

But if Aemond were to sever their solidary alliance, then her future would be most uncertain.

Otto Hightower would make her join with an old and withered Lord, no doubt – one with more than enough sons to further on his pesky line. One who couldn’t even get it up to her, who’d never procreate and mend their blood, who’d make sure Rhaenyra’s line would end with her.

Or perhaps she’d be sent to join the Faith – become a Septa or a Silent Sister, among the infamous Maris Baratheons of the Realm. Yet another girl who wouldn’t keep her tongue when asked.

And history might remember them as ‘the women who couldn’t be tamed’, but their lives would be thrown to ruin. Their existence would remain a sham.

No, she had whispered to herself, as she writhed into the soft bedding. If she still thirsted for revenge, she would have to marry Aemond. Keep him interested and relaxed – yearning for her voice and company.

… And if she had to whore herself to him to do it, she would obediently assume her role.

“I beg your pardon?” Aegon asked through another gulp of bitter wine, “Gods be good – I believe that now I’ve heard it all.”

Aemond paced about his brother’s room, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face set into a deep grimace. He hummed in admission to his brother’s words, and glanced his way with the instance of a hooded eye.

“There is to be no bedding ceremony.” He repeated himself with ease, “I frightened her enough already. The girl will be plenty uncomfortable without the aid of chafing eyes.”

His brother smiled and raised his brows in nothing else but blinding wonder. A small shake of his head indicated his perplexion, and a sharp inhale his drawn decision.

“Mother insisted upon it. You know that well.” The man steadied himself in his chair as he spoke, whilst letting out a small grunt at the contact that the wood made upon his burnt remnants of skin. “I don’t see any reason to annul it. Especially now, an eve before.”

Another sip of the stinging liquor interrupted his smooth and ready trail of thought. The Targaryen brushed off Aemond’s concerns, and gleefully bided his teasing.

“It’ll do the two of you good – you’ll get to see she’s as pure as a bastard girl can be; and she’ll have no deniability that any of her future heirs are yours.” He pointed his weary digit in the direction of his stiffened form and swallowed down a hefty laugh. “Not to mention that Lord Redwyne and Tarly already placed bets on the state of her maidenhead. Would be a shame to disappoint them both, don't you think?"

“What mother thinks is of no consequence. And the amusement of the Realm matters not to me. There will be no bedding ceremony.”

��Nonsense, Aemond. It is our duty to upkeep the Realm – and to entertain its inhabitants if need be.”

When his reckless teasing was met with glacial silence, Aegon sighed as he briskly leaned forward. He watched his sibling with an indiscernible expression across his scorched veneer, and yawned greatly at his indisposed behaviour.

“Of course, we’re here to talk it out. But after so much time spent in your company, I fail to see the necessity for such a thing.” A sly smirk danced across his puffy lips, “Are you concerned that she won’t bleed? Or that you’ll be too cunt-struck by her to last enough to make a statement?”

Aemond’s fists descended upon the polished wood of Aegon’d desk. He thrashed his brother with a defiant glare, and hissed through his gritted teeth, and tight-set jaw.

“There will be no bedding ceremony for my niece and I. Tell that to every Lord that wishes to glance upon my wife – if they do so much as to cast their eyes on her, they’ll be fucking their own wives with a wooden cock.”

Amusement laced with grave concern – the finality of Aemond's words ought to have vexed him, irk the King in his sibling's weighty insolence. Instead Aegon nodded, pushing back the feeling of dread that settled deep within his bones. His head jerked towards his closed oak door, signalling to his brother that his visit had been overstated. “What sort of brother would I be, to not grant you with this simple whim?”

The younger Targaryen mirrored his stance, and turned abruptly on his heel after a low grunt of gratitude.

His hand reached for the golden handle, but Aegon's words deterred him to a halt.

“But be careful with that one, Aemond. She’s brash and wholly unpredictable. Make sure the blood that stains your sheets come morning isn’t somehow your very own.”

Perma Tag List: @welcometothelioncage @kravitzwhore ♡

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God, Chapter 15: The Lakeshore

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: 18+, spoilers for F&B and future seasons of HotD, canon divergence, descriptions of violence, angst, mentions of death and war

A/n: We're back after five whole months!! I've been deep in the brainrot for this fic recently, and I'm so happy I've come back to it. I've had this series planned out since December 2022 and I'm really excited to see it through.

Also, psa I guess, this series is no longer going to be updated on Tumblr, all future chapters will be posted on AO3.

I do want to say thank you to everyone who's shown this fic some love on here, it makes me so happy seeing it come up in my notifs, I can't wait for you all to continue reading it :)❤️

Full Chapter on AO3

The voice in Luke’s head whispers again. Blood.

It is everywhere, in the colour of the sky, in the clouds and the setting sun. It’s in the water, spilled from the bodies of two dead dragons. Watery red waves ripple over the lakeshore, rushing over her boots, running back to the lake and seeping through the pebbles into the earth.

Aemond is covered in it. He is on his knees before her, an arrow lodged in the shoulder of his sword arm, his riding leathers sodden, his silver hair soaked and stained pink. She wonders if he can taste it, the blood of Caraxes and Vhagar on his tongue.

Even when she takes up Dark Sister and places its point to his throat, he is staring at her with the intent of a hunter. His seeing eye is wide, his eyepatch washed away and his sapphire almost black in the absence of light. The scar that frames it, the scar carved by her hand, is inflamed, furious and red.

The last time she had seen it, he was holding a knife against her cheek, demanding retribution, seeking payment for her debt.

It seems like another lifetime ago, before Arrax, before Shipbreaker Bay, before she had clawed her way through endless, agonising pain to find her way to Jace, before she had buried two of her siblings, when Rhaenyra was her mother and not her Queen. 

The sword– Daemon’s sword, feels wrong in her hand, but then it should not be hers to have.

“Remember all he has taken from you,” her step-father had said. 

And she does. She remembers it all.

Aemond’s arrogance to not weep and grovel and beg for his life, after everything, is an insult. 

She had never felt so sure of herself, so determined that she knew what path the Gods had mapped for her. Aemond would not have a noble death or the burial rites of their family. He would be lost to the lake with an arrow pierced through his black heart, remembered as a traitor and a kinslayer. She would be his end. It was only right.

Daemon had trusted her, handed her the bow she would use to kill him, told her to stay hidden amongst the trees and wait for the right moment to strike.

In the blur of battle, as night engulfed the sky and poisoned the air with its cold, she had missed her mark. She knew it the moment the arrow left the bow that it would not be enough to kill him.

The danger in that was Vhagar. The dragon howled in fury and surged towards her atop Grey Ghost. Aemond had his chance then. He could have finished what he began at Storm’s End, claimed her life, seen his debt fulfilled.

Then Vhagar had steered away.

It was hard to see what became of them in the final struggle. The dragons were a single mass of bloody flesh, joined with teeth and talons. Daemon leapt from his saddle, sword in hand. She might have screamed, either way it would have gone unheard.

Aemond must have realised what was happening when he started to fuss with his chains. He released himself and then they were falling.

Aemond and Daemon were lost to darkness but Vhagar and Caraxes plunged into the God’s Eye with a colossal splash that reached so high it appeared to match the height of Harrenhal itself.

She was standing on the lakeshore before she found herself in the mind of her dragon.

She watched through Grey Ghost’s eyes as he flew towards the lake and dived beneath the surface of the water. In that void his claws curled around a body.

She was standing on the shore again, inside her own mind again, waiting for Grey Ghost to deliver what– who he had found.

Grey Ghost set the body down. He may have had stained silver hair and Dark Sister clutched in his hand, but she knew right away it wasn’t her step-father. There was still life in him– in Aemond.

What will her mother think now?

She feels Aemond swallow against the blade, the movement of his throat piercing his skin. A droplet of blood trails down his neck, below his collar. 

She knows what she has to do– what she should do: push forwards, watch him choke on blood and steel. 

He draws his tongue between his lips. His voice is almost a whisper, thick and strained. “Please.”

Her hold on the hilt falters. Perhaps she should feel some semblance of pride, now that she has him at her mercy, breathless and broken. 

“Please.”

She watches the blood trail from the small cut she has made in his neck. She imagines it spraying from a larger wound, coating Dark Sister, seeping through his teeth and his lips.

“You can beg better than that, surely,” she says...

Read the rest of Chapter 15 on AO3

Tags (comment to be added to either)

Series taglist: @adragonprinceswhore @toodlesxcuddles @arcielee

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

300 Follower Celebration Lorepost — Ceredell!!

Welcome back to another episode of Worldbuilding™! So happy to have new followers, and I can't wait to bore y'all with more world building!

Without further ado, let's begin!

Ceredell is one of the most complex regions in Triworld, with a vast history and more gore than the average slasher movie. Once upon a time, it was a flowering, forested region much like many others, whose name was lost to time. But one day, Terras, an artificer, discovered a way to generate magic. He thought to make his home flourish, and in the manner of mad scientists everywhere, endeavoured to do so by turning himself into a god.

He was successful. So successful, in fact, that he managed to wreck the whole of Ceredell, send it careening into a cursed land, and turn himself into the Void, in the process. (Read about that mess here) From that sunny, cheerful moment onwards, most bodies of water in the region that would come to be called were poisoned, things came out of the sea-turned-Void, and people died by the thousands. It grew so bad that in the northern provinces, living beings had all but died out.

That changed when a group of adventurers, led by fifth Prince Remington I of the southern kingdom Olip-Olep, decided to venture into and reclaim the cursed lands. There, they discovered that, while horrible things had sprouted across the lowlands, and fishing in the sea produced masses of rotting corpses, the mountains held something that made it all worthwhile: Soulstones.

Soulstones were an (up until then) incredibly rare gem that could store magical capacity. Much like diamonds formed under pressure, the concentration of magic was such that regular stone had been turned to soulstone, both sucking the worst of the curse out of the mountains and providing a foundation for an expanded Kingdom. So Remington I plopped himself in the long-abandoned castle of a king whose name has been forgotten (and named it something that has also long been forgotten), gleefully imported people over from Losaras and Olip-Olep, and set about to creating his new Kingdom.

Now, unbeknownst to him at the time, the tunnels he declared ‘mines’ were already inhabited, by spirits. They were a people made from the cursed dead, imbued with immortality, translucency, and more murder in their hearts than any mortal had previously seen. In their language, they had named the land Ceredell, or Mountain-home. King Remington I took that name from them, much like he took their homes and means of living. The spirits were, quite naturally, furious at the mortals' intrusion, forming the basis of a rivalry that would culminate in the Lich-Queen's coronation.

Though they fought valiantly, the humans overwhelmed their numbers, and the spirits were forced to flee to other lands. But that is a story for another day. 

King after King ruled the region, with a few Queens scattered in for good measure, the people of Ceredell came to find ways of surviving in the unforgiving lands of Ceredell, and life went on. They turned the river corpseflesh into stew, carved runes to float their cities far above the carnivorous monsters, and turned their undead homeland into a sanctuary. 

Then it all went wrong. The Void, all-knowing, all-seeing, all-traces of Terras gone, got its hands on three youths. Two sisters and a young man, each having strayed too close to Void. The two girls were found by guard-hunters, lost and precocious beyond belief. The elder sister, in particular, had the far-sight of an Oracle, and so the captain of the party brought her back to the castle. They took the little sister along for the ride, not suspecting it would be their downfall.

The girls were named Ramaeria, after wisdom, and Iraela, after the corpse-tree forest they were found in. Both names turned out to be accurate. 

Ramaeria grew up to be an Oracle of the highest calibre, gifted the world on a platter by the King. Her one flaw was her softness, her love for the cruel crown prince and her still crueller sister. She had seen their ends, seen how easy it would be to drown her blood and save the Kingdom, but could not. No, she watched her only family grow up from afar, too poisoned by fear to reach out and too struck with love to kill her.

Iraela grew up bitter and hateful, friend only to death and the books that lined the old library. Her very blood boiled with death, and the ability to reverse it. She looked out of her castle tower and saw her Queendom in the monsters that prowled the wilderness and the leafless trees. So, when she finally came into her powers, she struck without a second thought, to claim the throne she considered her right.

I could tell you the rest of the story of Iraela and the Lich-Queen she would become, but that would be spoiling you, would it not? Go read it here instead.

Now, an observant reader would notice the mention of a third figure: the man. Who was he? Why was he? What gift-curse did he receive from the Void? I have an answer for each of those.

The man was Maizen, Shatterer of Worlds, gifted a berserk fury and bloodlust that rivalled the Lich-Queen's. When she drank soup and dreamed of her heritage, he paved the way for her, scything through the southern cities of Ceredell, ripping society apart with wanton glee. One cannot truly say if Iraela could have taken over Ceredell without his help, if the forces of undeath would have been sufficient without the whirlwind of murder. One thing is for sure, however: He took a massive bite out of the armed forces of Ceredell.

Between the three fated ones and their choices (or lack thereof), Ceredell fell within two decades. All that remained were the Deadlands, home of ghouls, revenants, and the berserker bloodline, ruled over by an eternally vengeful Lich-Queen.

I suppose you could call it a bad ending. The spirits would disagree, however. The mortals who had taken their home from them, had gotten their just desserts at last. The ghouls would disagree too. They had finally found a home and a generous Queen. The berserkers, some Void-touched, some wanderers from lands that could not accept their curse, were grateful for a land that adored their blood-thirst.

For many, the Void was a saviour. Terras had achieved his goal, in a roundabout way. He had brought magic to the realm, and made it thrive. The locals weren't who he might have anticipated, and the route it took to get there sure did have a lot of genocide, but the outcome was as he wished for.

So, I suppose it might well serve a warning to you all— Be careful for what you wish for, for you might just get it.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[nikethestatue]

I think sjm is very likely to still write her favorite characters as leaders especially if you noticed the foreshadowing to it 👀 just my guess. and she’s written of characters like aelin becoming queen in tog and bryce was referred to as a destined queen in cc2 who’s to say she doesn’t also have a storyline like that set for feyre like amren, cassian, azriel all agreed would be a smart idea, sjm doesn’t write things for no reason especially something that big. aelin was young too! so is Bryce, I don’t really think sjm would care about that. I think she’ll do it and I’d actually love it, especially if they grew more powerful and she’d be a threat when war comes since she has all of the high lords powers. just have to wait and see!

I think she will write whatever, I personally am not a fan of the High King/Queen storyline at ALL. I dont think it's needed and I don't think she will be able to make it palatable.

I don't even understand what the point of it would be?

Does Rhys WANT to lead the world's armies? What is the need for it? To defeat the Asteri? To unify Prythian? For what? Just to have another war?

He is not well liked, and won't be able to unite everyone under the HK banner.

Rhys is not a benevolent, gentle leader who is just going to make everyone sing kumbaya and hold hands. He can't even handle his own Court or create good will among the people he rules.

Amren, who is very into the HK thing, is basically a psychopath.

I am not a monarchist and NONE of these people should be any kind of a High King/Queen that rule the masses.

But obviously we'll see what happens.

[nhebi]

chapter iv

warning : major spoiler gameplay, mention of blood, fighting, drinking behavior, sibling quarrels, unrequited love, arranged marriage, strained relationship between major characters (earlier chapter) and major character death (upcoming chapters)

previous

"Got a news that my sister is safe and sound as a refugee at Lestallum," Gladio sigh, smiling lightly at the good news of his sister's safety after the chaos in Insomnia.

You give him a small pat on arm, showing your relief to his sister's safety. Especially because she must've had a hard time after the ceasefire caused by Niflheim.

"We must haste, letting everyone know these two are alive," Ignis looks at your and Noctis' reflections from the mirror, hoping that you can feel better with him soon.

"No weather for driving, huh?" Cindy smiles, greeting you after a dangerous driving to the border before Gladio moves you aside, starting to flirt with her.

You agree with her, though. This is the worst thing to happen when you want to have a peaceful journey of your life for this bachelor party for your brother.

You are looking for Cor — only to find he already left and leave a message with Cid. You shrug your shoulders off, feeling like giving up with this amount of walking, bumpy road and soldiers everywhere.

You sit down a bit far from others inside the garage, hearing Cid just fine from distance. You don't think that hearing about the story of what happened during your absence will be great for your headspace — certainly because you can see how Noctis keeps snapping and losing his grip.

The empire doesn't want peace from the start, they just want the Crystal and the ring — just like what you see in your vision. How you hate it when it keeps making a grand appearance during the worst moment of the week.

You're currently heading to the Prairie Outpost to meet Cor at the Tomb of the Wise. You don't think it lives up to the name because you're sure wisdom don't die in vain and secrecy.

You find Monica there — telling you that she'll escort you to meet the marshal and lead you to the path where you can find him.

"Ugh, seriously," you throw your head to the back and decide to take down all the daggerquill in front of you with one strike — not in a good feeling to depend on anyone right now.

All of you finally enter the tomb and find him standing inside — waiting for your brother's arrival. He wastes no time and greets all of you, expecting Noctis to finally come.

"So, why am I here?"

Cor walks behind laid out knight armour with a sword in its hands then tell Noctis about the power of king, something he can acquire due to his birthright and duty to be the king.

It's a duty that must be fulfilled by everyone before they stand in front of their people to claim their right and also show to everyone that they're here for them.

"As a king of what?" You sigh, telling him it's not his time to doubt himself and his call.

"The princess is right — there's no time to question it," Cor walks around, circling us while explaining the meaning to be king for Noctis — yet, keeping his eyes set on me.

Father was sworn to protect everyone, his people in Crown City and the rest of other Lucian as king. But, Noctis protests against it. He's angry that father protected him ande instead of the masses that keep their hopes on him. It's not his calling as a king to protect his children.

"How long must you stay to be protected? You're given the role as a protector by the king himself," Cor look at him sharp then changes his gaze on you.

"To be princess is more than to be pretty, smart and composed — you stand on your ground as the mother and sister for the Lucian,"

You grip the ends of your skirt — agreeing with his view. But, you're not your mother, the queen. You're just a girl who hasn't reached her adulthood and still want to run away from your duty and responsibility.

You still want to see the outside world and enjoy various things that can't be done in Lucis. You still want to live your life as a child and be protected by Gladio until your time to get married come.

You hate the fact that you're born as the royal princess of Lucis kingdom — no one taught you how to be a queen because your mother died before you cried for the first time and your father had a duty to protect the kingdom as king — inheriting all those knowledge to Noctis.

You're alone and don't know anything about being a queen. Your classes only taught you one to be a queen in the text book. You hate it because you can see it so well that you can never be them. You're just a girl hiding behind the word princess to enjoy a life with no worries because you had your father to protect you and Noctis.

But, there's no time to stay that way anymore. Father had left this world and your brother still not ready take everything on his plate. You must stand up to help him and gain back those are stolen from the empire and making sure you're aware of the current situation of your people.

"Why did he lied to me and left me with a smile," Noctis bites his lower lip, trying not to burst out.

Cor looks at you and him in pity — knowing that it must be hard to believe that everything you protected suddenly lost, including your family.

"That day, he doesn't want you to see him as king — but, as father,"

Noctis finally takes a courage to decide that he will fulfill his duty as king. Letting the power from the royal arm to fill in his body as you stay by his side — wishing all the best for him during his reign.

Cor explains that this isn't the only royal tomb that exist. There's thirteen in total and Noctis must visit each of them to gain the power of his predecessors so he can get stronger and fight efficiently. As next time we leave for this tomb, we'll head to a tomb nearby to collect another royal arm that is laid.

"Princess, if you may," Cor call you and asks you in hushed tone. "Have you gained any vision?"

You shake your head, having none of it these past few days. Even if there's one, it's nothing to worry about. Cor nods his head in understanding, asking you to tell him right away if you gain another in the meantime before something bad happens.

"I'll come with you not only as a help, but to measure your strength," Cor says before stepping out from the tomb with the rest of you.

You sigh lightly, feeling guilty at Cor to hide this secret you mustn't tell — even to Noctis himself.

You were four and often got nightmares, which made you father had to stay by your side after reading a bedtime story.

It wasn't any different from the usual night — but somehow, this one was more than scary. It was realistic. An idea that might occur some day. It wasn't something you like but could you see.

You looked at your sleeping father at the side of the bed, holding the storybook on one hand while the other supported his head. "Father, wake up," you whispered, barely shaking his shoulder with your small hand. You felt grateful that he woke up after few shakes, asking if you needed something from him.

"No, listen to me!"

You told him about your recent nightmare — something you would do when you felt scared and needed him to reassure you.

Your father listened to you patiently, brushing your hairs once in a while your chubby cheeks giving you a hard time to express this fear you held. You barely knew big words, but you still tried to use one or two so he could understand you (well, you didn't think 'big spider arms snake giant lady' will give him any picture, yes?).

You told him about how this giant lady will try to kill your brother and you after a small visit. Your father wasn't there, so you were having a hard time. The attendants were died, Noctis could barely hide you behind a thrown out car.

Regis furrowed his eyebrows at you — dismissing it as another nightmare you had and asked you to sleep gently, wishing you for a sweet dream and not to tell anyone about it.

Few weeks afterwards, both of you and Noctis were on the way back to the Crown City, feeling more than tired and sleepy on the road. Missing the warm, soft bed after a cup of warm chocolate from your maid. Suddenly, your driver took a sudden brake and told you to stay inside because few cars before you were thrown backwards, in case of an enemy that could sneak into this car.

"Stay here," Noctis pulled you into a tight hug, looking out from the window to make sure what happened around before your nanny took both of you and Noctis' hands and ran away from the car.

"Wait! My bunny!" You pulled your hand away from your nanny's grasp to find your bunny inside the car, unable to see anything under the moonlight.

"Highness!" You found your bunny plushie under the backseat, hugging it against your chest before you looked at the outside — a giantess with six-arms and tail of a serpent, watching your figure intently.

You tried to run away, but it threw a car at your direction faster than you could move — making you unable to comprehend about what was happening around. You were cold, tired and sleepy. You wished you were at the Citadel with your father and brother, fishing at a small pond nearby or maybe sneaking some sweets from the maid. You weren't able to move your lower legs, you couldn't feel anything underneath.

Your eyelids were getting heavier after each second and Noctis' shout began to fade away from the background. "My daughter!" You opened your eyes and saw your father sprinting to your direction with couples of attendants, helping him to turn the car above you before he scooped you up into his arm.

Your nanny had entered a car with guards and Noctis would be placed in a car with you and your father. Noctis lost his consciousness after the sudden ambush and you were on the verge of death due to blood loss and major trauma on legs caused by the car.

After roughly ten days, Noctis finally woke up from his comatose, having a hard time to walk normally with both of his legs without any support and needed a wheelchair like you. "How do you feel?" You asked Noctis, looking at his inability to comprehend about what happened while he was away.

"Better than you," you chuckled lightly, giving him a harsh punch on his arm.

Noctis got informed by Cor that there was a guest who wished to meet him outside and as for you, your father had summoned you into a meeting with the Glaives — asking for you to not tell a single soul about what happened inside afterwards.

Cor pushed your wheelchair to the meeting room, reassuring you to not be nervous about what to do and say — just stay honest and tell them what you saw that day before couple of guards giving your a bow and opened the door for you and him.

Helping you to sit down beside the king, Crowe offered you a gentle smile and asked if you wanted to sit down on her lap instead. You shook your head, telling her the chair was soft enough and earned a small chuckle from her. "Well, that's a good girl," she sighed, placing a small plastic-wrapped candy into your grasp before your father told you to talk when your turn arrived.

After Cor's report about the recent event involving you and Noctis, your father told you to tell them about the nightmare you recently received few weeks beforehand — making you felt nervous to speak in front of many adults. "It's alright," your father smiled as you began to tell them about it — not leaving any single detail behind. It was a strange dream because what happened to you were quite similar to that.

"Your Majesty, I suggest for the princess to go to the church at Altissia. Perhaps some people can help her to understand this situation she has better,"

You were finally let go by your father, escorted by Cor to the outside and watched the door closed by the guards. "Do you need me to push the wheelchair for you, Your Highness?" A guard asked as you shook your head, thanking him for being thoughtful before leaving the area and fulfilled your promise — to not let any single soul know about this.

next

[gtseven7]

Seven Princes

Summary:

Seven handsome travelling entertainers capture hearts of the crowd by their amazing voices and artisic dancing as they slowly drain their audience's inner soul magic.

A/N:

Okay so there's not much of the boys here in this chapter. Fear not! This is only the start and I'll be focusing on them more on the next chapters coming. The two characters appearing on this chapter is from my own original story Blood Queen (which you can find on wattpad and my writeblr: annieslibrary) because for me, the au exists in the same universe as them. This chapter and the chapters that has the two of them was only to build up the lore of the universe. They will not be mainly in the story don't worry. I promise next chapter will have all of the boys.

prev/next

--

2

It was a sunny afternoon, with light breeze flowing, gently blowing Rianon's hair. The ex-princess' black hair dances as the wind caresses her face. She daintily walks the crowded street with a bread in hand. It's a long way till they get to Condor, the center of all magic, and they weren't in a hurry anymore. She feels like she went in a vacation after everything that has happened, Rianon thinks a holiday is well deserved. Coming out of war barely scathed requires a great deal of rest.

Walking beside her trusted partner: Indulf, the ex-princess couldn't really ask for more.

[[MORE]]

"This is nice Indulf. I think taking our time to travel, see the world out there while we try to get to Condor was a great idea."

The lady hunter smiled at Rianon. She couldn't remember the last time she had relaxed, probably never. Since the fall of her small town when she was young in Dilfae; Indulf never really had a rest. This was probably the best time to do it, with the person she cherishes the most.

As they are peacefully walking, side by side, admiring the busy people of the market; ladies who seemed to be in a hurry bumped into the Rianon. She was no longer a frail woman, but the suddeness of the collision caused her to stumble a bit. The ladies shoved them out of the way to run over what seemed to be a gathering of masses from afar.

"What the...! Are you okay?" Indulf asked while helping the other regain her balance. Holding her arm, the redhead hunter glared at the women who bumped them. It was futile because they were out of sight as they have already been swallowed by the large crowd ahead.

"I'm fine." Rianon said off handedly, her interest already piqued by the commotion. "What do you think that is? It looks like a large tent." The ex-princess stood on tippy toes to get a better view, but to no avail, the large mass of people covered up her sight. "I don't know..." Indulf couldn't really care less about what the ruckus, she just wanted to stroll around the market, maybe eat some good food. But Rianon's eyes were shining with curiosity as she walks faster to get into the thick crowd. "Rianon! I don't think it's wise to get involved in that..." The redhead tried to stop her companion. Catching the arms of the princess didn't seem to stop her. She even stopped a woman running towards the crowd as well.

"Hey! Uhmm... What's with that? What's happening?"

Indulf wanted smack her head to her palm but resisted. Even after the bloodbath they have been through, Rianon's excitable child-like character did not cease. It's nice yes, but sometimes Indulf hoped it was gone.

"Oh! The Seven Princes are here!"

"The Seven Princes?"

The woman matched Rianon's excitement. Her eyes were shining and her mouth smiled too wide. It's kind of creepy on the stranger's face.

"Yes! They are seven handsome performers! You should watch them, this is their last night in town!"

And there it is: hook, line and sinker. Once the word 'handsome performers' dropped out of the woman's mouth, Indulf knew she'll regret it.

"Indulf! Performers! Let's go see!"

"Ugh. Why?"

Rianon pouted at her partner, trying to manipulate her into saying yes as she usually does. The lady hunter might say she is tough, but she melts like she always does whenever Rianon pulls out her best techniques. One of them including batting her eyelashes at her while she pouts.

"Please? I haven't seen any shows in a while! You know I love things like these!"

Of course she hasn't watched in a long time, with a raging war in their hands before, a show was in no one's mind.

And as always, Indulf said begrudingly: "Ugh. Fine. Lead the way."

-

A large mass of power was what Indulf felt once she set foot near the tent. Waves and waves of magic tingles her skin. The red magical stone dangling on her neck reacts slightly.

"There's a strong whiff of sorcery here Ria. Can you feel it?"

The other nodded, admiring the large black tent. It was glamorous, as gold shines in the linings of the tent's cloth. "They must be magicians. A group of travelling performers from Condor. Maybe we could ask them if they know how to fix us."

"Maybe... I have a bad feeling about this."

Rianon laughed slightly, a playful judging expression on her face. "You never really liked magic Indulf." With a feigned hurt, Indulf responded. "I do now! Look where it got me." A sly smile graced her mouth as she looked at the ex-princess carefully. Reading her face if she got what the hunter was saying. And she did. A slight tinge on her cheeks surfaced.

Soul swap may have been unfortunate on their first meeting, but by now both can say it was a blessing instead of a curse.

Their moment was interrupted when a tall figure of a man came beside Rianon. Startling the princess when he bent down a little to greet them. "Hey." His face full of sophisticated boyish charm as he grins at them. "Hey..." The two greeted back.

The man was wearing an elegant prince-wear. Black velvet adorned with gold pieces of jewelry. His face, posture and clothes screamed royalty. His eyes shines in different colors. Magic was strong in him and both women can feel it.

"I can't help but notice the two of you when I took a peek earlier. I must say you two are the most beautiful women in this crowd."

A charmer indeed and Rianon was weak for that as she stares at his face while Indulf stood in careful interest.

"Are you one of the performers?" asked the redhead. The man turned his blinding smile and alluring eyes towards Indulf. His eyes crinkling a little, emphasizing the small mole under his left eye. "Yes I am. You're here for the show right?"

"Yes we are!"

"I'm glad to hear that, come with me, I'll get you two the best seats."

He made a slight extravagant gesture of bowing and stretching his hands towards the backdoor of the tent. "We'll go in now? The rest of them are still waiting."

"Think of this as special treatment for special people."

Least to say, the lady hunter was suspicious.

Going inside the tent, both knew the difference the outer and inner structure. If the outside was glamorous, inside was just shining paradise. It was huge with lots of lights around and a stage in the middle of four staged bleachers. The extravagance of it was all magic and it did not escape in both ladies' eyes.

In the middle of it all, on the stage were five men looking as if they are royalty as well. Velvet red and black. They were looking at their other member walking towards them. If the man beside them was tall, the one beaming at them was taller. While the one they first met has slightly darker shade, the man that stopped before them was white. His skin looked as if it was dazzling. And like the first they met, the feeling of power was strong in him too.

"BamBam! You brought in the ladies already?" He smiled at them while teasing his brother. The man beside Rianon whose name was BamBam apparently only laughed. "Hello to the two of you. Thank you for taking interest in us."

Realizing that she was staring with mouth slightly agape, Rianon snapped out of her daze. "Yes! Well, hahaha, I love performers and magicians."

Both men raised their eyebrows as they heard her acknowledge their craft that no ordinary people can pick up on.

Both lead the two to the seat closest to the stage, still chatting them up. "Oh! I forgot to ask, what are your names?"

"I'm Rianon," then she pointed to her companion, "this is Indulf."

"Beautiful names! I'm BamBam and this is Yugyeom."

Indulf was about to ask them if they were performers who came from Condor as entertainers like them usually came from that place. They might me able to help them with their situation right now if they know enough magic. And it seems that they do considering the whole place. But she did not get the chance as both men were called back by the others so they retreated back and bid goodbye.

Indulf really is having a bad feeling about this whole thing.

[renee-writer]

From Gladiator to Knight Chapter 25 Knighting

Claire Jamie Tianna Paul Arthur Merlin

Claire

We all head back to our own rooms after the shock of my revelation fades a bit. The fact that we are to become legends is a bit hard to digest. Jamie and I enter our room. I strip down to my shift and Jamie down to his shirt and we get into bed, exhausted by the events of the day. Jamie pulls me close, spooning me to him and I come to understand that part of him isn't tired. He moves purposely against my bum.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"I would think that would be obvious Sassanech."

"It is. I meant why. Do you think I would be open to that after the way you treated me today?"

"I was just.."

"Being an arse. Not happening today Jamie."

"I am sorry. I worry when you pull away from me."

"I pulled away from everyone. I needed to think."

"I know that now. Will you forgive me for being an arse?"

"Of course. Good night Jamie." He sighs but accepts my no. He just cuddles against me and breaths,

"I love you Claire."

"I love you Jamie." We drift to sleep.

I woke with the first rays of sun coming through the window. I slip out of Jamie's grip and pull my dress back on. I walk into the hall and see Tianna doing the same. I suggest we go check on Arthur. We head that way.

We find him under the guard of Bors and Merlin. I walk over and take his pulse, count his respiration, and check his color. All are much better. I am quite relieved.

"You are doing extraordinarily well. I am clearing you to get out of bed today." I tell him.

"Thank you. That is wonderful news for I plan your knighting for today."

"Today! I thought it would take several days." I sputter out.

"All came together faster then I expected."

"Well that is...ahhh thank you sire'."

"Arthur." He corrects with a laugh as we courtsies our way out of the room. Merlin follows.

Merlin

"You told them?" I ask Claire after they leave.

"Yes, you knew, didn't you?"

"I did. I do. That is why it was so important that you told them."

"We are to be legends." Tianna says with awe.

"You are. Well deserved ones."

"Thank you Merlin. Come Tianna. Let's go check on Lancelot before we have to get ready."

Tianna

We knock on the door and a female voice calls out," Who is it?"

"Claire and Tianna. Come to check on Lancelot." Claire answers. We are invited in and find one of the.ladies-in-waiting washing Lancelot. This doesn't phase Claire who walks right up and kneels, taking the ankle of his injured leg.

"I am checking the pulse to make sure it is getting proper blood flow." She instructs. She had explained pulses and blood flow, the heart and such to me already.

"Your pulse is good. It means the cast is not to tight and you should heal properly. We are.sorry for barging in like this." Claire tells Lancelot.

"Oh that is fine." He says. His smile towards us and an even bigger smile towards the lady, says more.

"Someone.got some last night, didn't they?" Claire mumbles under her breath. I giggle and quickly cover my mouth. "Okay. I am allowing you up today. You may walk around here and outside with the crutches." Said louder and directed to Lancelot.

"Crutches?"

"A gift from Jamie." She turns to fetch them from where they lean against the door frame. "They will help you keep your balance and keep your weight of that injured leg."

She explains how they work: about how they are placed under his arms, how he is to lean into them, keep his injured leg up, push with his arms then with his foot. She gets him up, makes sure he can use them right, and is steady. He catches on quickly.

"Are you both okay with this?" She asks them both. They both agree they are and we leave.

Jamie

They walk in talking and laughing. It takes all I have not to grab and shake them. I see Paul restraining himself too.

"Where were ye!" I shout out.

"We checked on Arthur and Lancelot. Took him the crutches. He caught on to how to use them quickly." Claire calmly says.

"That.is all well and good but, you left without informing me and.Jamie where you were. And you must!" Paul informs his wife and mine. I see Tianna give him a furious look. He drops his head. I am not so easily intimidated by Claire's matching look.

"What he said is right. We are tasked by the order of the king and our wedding vowes with your protection. That is hard to do when we dinna ken yer whereabouts."

"We are sorry. You are right. We will wake you next time. By the way, we are.all to be knighted today. We best be getting ready." That takes anything else I think of telling her, right out of my head. She directs Tianna and I to follow her back to our room and sents Paul after some warm water.

Paul

I watch as Claire directs Tianna to lean back over the pot and pours water over her head. I am soon distracted by the way that position pushes her bossom out. I can't hold back a soft groan. Both Claire and Jamie look at me and grin. She then adds some of the strange liquid( the shampoo, I remind myself) to her hair. She massages it in and my wives hair is soon a mass of suds. I have never seen anything like it. She then rinses them out and directs Tianna to go sit by the fire so it can start to dry. She does Jamie's next. And then the bit of hair I have. Tianna then does hers and then offers to braid it up in a twist for the ceremony. Jamie and I watch our wives fix each others hair. There is a knock on the door.

Claire

The servants bring in four sets of clothes. Two gowns, one deep green, like Tianna's wedding dress. The other a deep blue with gold accents on the sleeves. The men have fancy shirts and breeks.

"Nice. But I bet they itch too." Paul grumbles. I laugh.

"Get used to wearing breeks lads. I've a feeling that where we are going next, you will still have too and not even as a true Scot. Neither will Tianna and I."

"What do you mean Sassanech?"

"You will see Jamie." We dress and walk hand in hand into the great hall. It has been transformed for the ceromony. The tables are moved to the side leaving the middle completely open. The king and queen sit on thrones at the end of the room. Merlin stands behind Arthur and the knights stand in a half circle behind them. We pass by his subjects lining our way like they are on a parade route.

Arthur

"We are here to knight the Fraser's as knights and dame's of the round table. They have been a gift from God to the kindom. Claire and Tianna, with the assistance of Merlin, saved my life from the evil plan of Morgarna and her son Mordred. Jamie and Paul, tracked them down and brought them back for justice. Claire, step forward."

Claire

I walk towards him on legs that feel like rubber. I can feel the eyes of the people on me and the beckoning eyes of the king. I kneel before him. And, as I have seen depicted in numerous paintings, he places his sword on first on one of my quivering shoulders then the other.

"I dub thee, Dame Claire Fraser of the round table." He says. He places his hand out and I take it, thinking he is helping me up. From behind him, Merlin hands him something. He slips it on my middle finger. A ring with a amethyst stone in the center.

"Thank you sire'."

"Thank you Claire." He helps me to my feet and I rejoin the others.

Tianna

He calls me up next. I know what to do from watching Claire. I am so thankful she was called first.

"I dub thee Dame Tianna Fraser of the round table." He slips a ring, Merlin hands him on my finger too. It has a sapphire in it.

"Thank you sire'."

"Thank you Tianna."

Jamie

I kneel before him as I have at the feet of my uncle. The difference is I respect him much more.

"I dub thee Knight Jamie Fraser of the round table." Merlin hands him the most beautiful sword I have ever seen. In the hilt is a stone, an amethyst to match the one in Claire's ring. I am speechless for a moment.

"Thank ye sire'." I finally get out.

"Thank you Jamie.

Paul

It feels unreal. To be kneeling before a king to be honored. Me, a former slave.

"I dub thee Knight Paul Fraser of the round table." I am handed a sword that is designed like Jamies. In the hilt is a beautiful blue stone like the one in Tianna's ring. Honored and presented with a valuable gift!

"Thank you sire'."

"Thank you Paul."

Arthur

"In the morrow we will all gather around the round table to discuss what is to be done with Morgarna. Until then, eat, drink, and be merry!"