#Medieval! Vána

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Starfall, seat of House Starfield and Medieval! Ladies Varda, Yavanna and Vána

Full list of the great noble house of Valinor can be read here.

Starfall was built within a shallow crater that spreads over twenty acres, hence its name. The sacred trees of Valinor, Laurelin and Telperion are located in this crater.

At one time, Starfall was all open gardens and walkways, but after Ungoliant attempted to destroy the sacred trees, a fortress was built around the palace and surrounding grounds. The outer curtain wall was constructed to look like a star, with watchtowers and ramparts facing every direction. A secondary curtainwall was built to secure the trees and the palace. The buildings within all have proper plumbing, thanks to gravity-fed ceramic pipes and an abundance of aquifers, springs, rivers, and lakes in the region.

1.The sacred trees of Valinor.

2.Sword Tower and Shield Tower: Home to the most experienced warriors of the Knights of the Grove.

3.The palace proper: A building rising several stories into the air, with several towers. The palace also has underground floors that house the kitchens, servants’ quarters, cellars, and an ice room. The upper floors have room for guests, the second largest library in Valinor, a great hall that has twenty hearths, along with rooms and corridors filled with art and sculptures.

4.Palace stables

5.Palace kennels for hunting dogs

6.Stables that have been set aside solely to house the horses of Starfall’s warriors and knights.

7.Smithy

8.Barracks: Much like the Shield and Sword towers, the barracks have their own kitchen and armory.

9. Kennels

10.Granary and Warehouse

11.Grace and favor towers: Each tower has small aprtments set aside for widowed spouses and minor children of fallen commanders, and for those who have provided the highest acts of service for House Starfall.

12.The healer's tower

13.Gatehouses

14. Secondary curtainwall and portcullis

House Starfield coat of arms: A five petal silver rose within a circle of seven stars, upon a midnight blue field

tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil @wandererindreams @edensrose

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

“Witches’ Circle”

Pairing: Varda & Yavanna & Vána & Arien & Urwendi

AU: Medieval Valinor AU

Themes: Soft | Good ending

Warnings: Blood rituals | Blood | Use of blades

Wordcount: 1.3k words

Summary: Varda and her handmaidens gather around the sacred trees to perform a ritual.

Minors DNI

A/N: For this AU, Urwendi is a separate character | Current list of the noble houses of Valinor can be found here.

Original image is from unsplash

Yavanna listened to a bell chiming in the distance as she followed the others down a path lined with gnarled oak trees and towering sentinels. Their leaves rustled like hushed whispers in the wind. It unnerved her a little. Nevertheless, she fought back her fears. It was not the night for such things.

“A quarter to the hour,” she said. “Then the witch’s hour itself will be at hand.”

“And on the day when the veil between this world and the next will be at its thinnest,” Varda supplied. She held a lit lamp in one hand, and a heavy velvet parcel in the other. A sheathed dagger adorned her silver girdle. It was fresh from the forge, but it would see much use later. “If we succeed, our gifts will increase tenfold.”

“Are you certain this is wise?” Vána asked. She glimpsed the mingling lights of the sacred trees and shivered. “The divine will bring much punishment upon our heads if we offend them.”

“Have faith, my friend,” Arien told her. “We will succeed this night.”

Yavanna’s sister was not so sure. They were mere novices compared to the one who led them, for they did not have Queen Melian to guide them in their craft. Nevertheless, she heeded her companion’s counsel and kept true to her faith. The gods would look upon them with kindly eyes, she told herself. There was nothing for her, or for any of them, to fear.

Varda strode ahead of the others, her gaze fixed intently on the silver and gold light spilling into the pre-dawn night. Her handmaidens followed in her footsteps. They each held aloft lanterns and offerings to the gods in the parcels they carried. A sense of foreboding came over them, as well as a sense of heady anticipation. None of them had partaken in such a ritual before, and Varda, having learned much at the feet of the fabled Witch Queen of Doriath, wished to teach them.

“We are here,” the heiress of Starfall declared when they reached the mighty roots of the sacred trees. She set her parcel down on soft, loamy earth. “Come, my friends. Let us put down our lamps and prepare ourselves.”

The others took their proper places and knelt beneath the canopies of two trees as ancient as the realm. Telperion effused light like liquid silver, and its flowers grew upon slender stems that swung together in the wind. Laurelin was all gold, its gilded flowers gathering in thick clusters that burned like flame. They were a gift from the gods, a source of all old magic. They were also a place for prayers to be offered and, sometimes, for prayers to be answered.

“The hour is almost upon us.” Urwendi, having perceived an otherworldly hush settling around the two trees, spread a beautifully embroidered mat of thick blue velvet between her and her companions. She placed her own parcel beside her. “Pray how do we begin?”

“We must set our offerings before us,” Varda began. “After, we must perform the sacrifice and open the witches’ circle.” She untied the ribbon around her parcel and revealed the contents it held within: a little lamp in the shape of a star, a delicate glass goblet, and a bottle of honeyed wine. “If the gods are pleased with us, we will know.”

The others did as she did. Each drew out their offerings from the bundles they brought with them. Yavanna’s was a slender glass chamber containing a rare blue rosebud she tended with her own hands, and her sister’s was a lilac nightingale in a silver cage. Arien produced a golden sun she forged herself, and Urwendi presented a yellow candle shaped like roaring flames. Then they watched Varda unstopper the bottle of wine and pour its contents into the goblet.

“We must now shed a portion of our life’s blood into the wine,” Varda instructed. She unsheathed her dagger and drew a thin line along the flat of her palm, taking care not to show fear or pain. When she held her hand over the goblet, deep crimson droplets trickled down her flesh and into the libation it held. “And then we place it with the other offerings. When the gods see such a willingness to suffer, they will surely listen.”

Her handmaidens followed her lead, accepting the proffered goblet and the proffered blade and spilling drops of their own blood into the wine.

“Rulers of the earth,” Varda said, closing her eyes and raising her arms to the heavens, “on this day, the most sacred of days, we beseech you for your favor. Givers of air and fire and water and spirit, Masters and mistresses of old, guardians of time and life and light and death, listen to us, your humble and faithful servants if it please you. Our gifts are mere trifles to the powers you all wield, yet we seek to wield them for a greater purpose. Grant us this boon so that all who may see them may bear witness to your own power and glory.”

“We are not alone,” Yavanna murmured, giving the goblet for Varda to take. She became all too aware of the unseen eyes that seemed to pierce into her very soul, and she dared not look back over her shoulder. She did not wish offend a being older than known time and bring about some dark and cruel punishment upon her person because of her impertinence.

“The circle is open,” Varda said, placing the goblet among the offerings. Her skin prickled as if someone, or something, was standing right beside her. “Let us now join hands, recite the incantation, and invite the gods to join us.”

“Rulers of the earth,” they began in unison after they all clasped hands, “givers of air and fire and water and spirit, we present these gifts to you. Masters and mistresses of old, guardians of time and life and light and death, we pray to you. We invoke you. We invite you. Come and join us, your humble servants. Come to us and show us your might and your glory.”

Thunder echoed throughout the vast gardens House Starfield claimed for itself, and lightning pierced the sky like a blinding white lance. The blue rosebud opened within its glass chamber, petal by flawless petal, and the nightingale sang a melody so sweet it would have moved the coldest of hearts to tears. The young maidens continued, undaunted by the wind that rose and crashed around them.

“We invoke you!” They cried and swayed hypnotically. The candle burst into flame, and the lamp filled with bright light. The golden sun began to sparkle and gleam with a light of its own. Telperion and Laurelin groaned as if they were alive. Their light pulsed and grew so bright it nearly blinded those gathered between them. “We invoke you! Bless us with your favor!”

The wind turned into a howling gale. Suddenly, lightning ripped through the air and struck the ground between the two trees with an almighty crack. The glass chamber shattered, and a fragrance sweeter than any perfume flowed freely into the world. The cage burst, and the nightingale flew into the night. Varda and her handmaidens collapsed to the earth, thrashing violently as trails of unknown power surged through their veins. Then, the world went dark, and the wind abruptly died.

Clarity came slowly. “Are you all well?” Varda called feebly and opened her eyes. She pushed herself to her knees and took a deep, steadying breath to compose herself. “Is anyone hurt?”

“We are well, my lady,” Yavanna returned. She gathered herself before she helped her sister. Then she looked at the others. Arien was brushing fallen leaves off Urwendi’s coppery hair. “Did we succeed? Were the gods pleased with us?”

Varda, still weakened by the ritual, crawled on her hands and knees to the center of the mat. She took in the rose, the broken and empty cage, the still-burning candle, and the gleaming sun. Then she peered into the goblet. During the tumult, it toppled over. And it was empty.

“We have indeed succeeded.” She smiled and held up her lamp. Its light brightened even more in her presence. “Now let us give thanks to the divine and close the circle, for it was through them that such a blessing was made possible.”

tags: @cilil

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Six Sentences

Thank you @ruiniel for the tag! Here is a six sentence WIP from a story I'm currently working on for my "Spooktober" series, featuring Medieval! Varda, Yavanna, Arien, Urwendi and Vána.

Yavanna listened to a bell chiming in the distance as she followed the others down a path gnarled oak trees and towering sentinels. “A quarter to the hour,” she said. “Then the witch’s hour itself will be at hand.” “And on the day when the veil between this world and the next will be at its thinnest,” Varda supplied. She held an unlit white candle in one hand, and a heavy velvet parcel in the other. A sheathed dagger adorned her silver girdle. It was fresh from the forge, but it would see much use later.

No tags, but all are free to join in!

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A big thank you for @cilil for creating this graphic! You're the best!

All Hallows Eve is not that far away, and what better way to celebrate it than with a series of spooky prompts? I myself am uncertain on how many I will write, but please feel free to use as many of these for your stories and art.

If there is a particular pairing, prompt and AU you would like to see written about, suggest it to me. I must warn, however, that some stories will have violence/torture/gore/dub-con or non-con based on the prompt chosen, so please be mindful of what you pick.

Ravenous I have already set aside for Fall of Valinor! AU Nári and Thuringwethil.

Witches' circle I have already set aside for Medieval! AU Varda, Yavanna, Vána, Arien and Urwendi

Unspeakable horrors I have already set aside for Fall of Valinor! AU Lungorthin and Glorfindel.

Please give credit/shout-outs if you use the graphic. Thank you!

Please click "keep reading" for the text version of the prompts.

Happy creating!

Witches' circle

All Hallows Eve

His/Her/Their familiar

Blood moon

Ravenous

Ritual

Unwilling sacrifice

Dark dreams

Earthly delights

A devil's bargain

Command me

Transformation

The Fallen

Absinthe

Handsome pallor

Ancient prince/princess

When wolves howl

Strange tonic

Unspeakable horrors

Cursed ruins

Eternal life

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Lord and Master

Pairing:  Manwë x Fem. Reader (Elf |Third Person POV)

Themes: Medieval! Ainur | Angst | Dark

Warnings: Dark Manwë | Arranged marriage | Dub-con | Manipulation | Imbalance of power | Oral (male receiving) |Medieval sexism

Wordcount : 3.4K words

Summary: Manwë finally agrees to marry, but is angry because his ability to control his life is being stripped from him. Finally, on his wedding night, the chance to take back some of that control presents itself to him.

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

Rules and tag form here.

A/n: This is my first foray into dark/dub-con, so I apologize if there are any mess-ups in the story.

The wedding passed like an ugly dream. Manwë did all that was required of him, biting the inside of his cheek the entire time.   

When word of his trysts with Námo made its way into the light, ladies refused him one by one. Varda was the first to rescind her offer of marriage. She had declared she did not think highly of a prince who threw the one he loved to the dirt and walked away like it all meant nothing to him. And where she went, the rest followed: Vána and Yavanna agreed with their lady’s choice, as did Arien and Ilmarë. Even the dutiful ones like Uinen, Lëa, and Melian refused the prince’s proposal with a courteous chorus of "Thank you kindly, your grace," followed by "But no." Nienna would never accept a proposal, and Meássë simply laughed in the messenger’s face when he showed her the king's letter. The king had purpled and raged for days when he heard.

Manwë turned to his bride, a wave of deep-seated anger and resentment surging through his veins. Lady y/n was not his choice for a wife. After Meássë refused, Eru finally had to stoop so low as to ask a minor lordling for his daughter’s hand in marriage. That stung as well. 

He glanced at his wife again. She was well-bred and well-mannered, so the others said. Y/n loved singing, sewing, and reading, but she was not what the crown prince wanted in a companion. She was too quiet and docile. She certainly was not Námo, yet he must wed her and secure the line of succession. That was his father’s order and the council's. 

"Wed her, bed her, and put a child in her," the king commanded once the offer of marriage had been accepted. "You are capable of this, yes?” 

Manwë had clenched his fists so hard they turned white at the knuckles. "You command I wed someone I do not desire," he spat, "Yet you heartily agree to your Lord Commander's wedding and bedding a lowly serving girl. How do you justify it, your grace?"

His father’s icy glare pinned him to the chair he sat in. It made Manwë feel so small. "Our Lord Commander is not my son. He will never wear the crown. And Eönwë commands the near-fanatical loyalty of our army. He even saved your life once. Do you not remember? How he fought your brother and bled in your name?" 

Manwë flinched when reminded. "Father...” 

"Keeping a warrior like our Lord Commander happy is in this realm's best interests." Eru interrupted him and picked up his quill and a piece of parchment. The sight made Manwë feel like he was in a ship already listing dangerously to one side. "And yours. That is how I justify it. But if you wish to refuse this marriage," Eru said while dipping the quill in new ink. "You need only say the word, and I will marry the lady instead.” 

And if I refuse, Valinor will learn my lord father has yet another son who flees his duty, the prince thought bitterly. Oh yes, I can hear it now. Poor king Eru, plagued with selfish, disobedient sons who care for nothing but themselves. 

Manwë did not want others to see him as no better than Melkor, but he wished for the days when his brother was heir and life was a carefree dream, where he was master of his destiny and lived how he pleased. Now, with every word and every stroke of his father's quill, he felt his sense of control being stripped from him, sliver by painful sliver. Each day he felt a little smaller and a little weaker. He started to feel more like a boy desperate for approval and nothing like the man he wanted to be.  

Forever bowing my head to the will of someone else. Father, the council, the crown. Is that what I am? Someone who readily acquiesces? Someone helpless and weak?  

Someone coughed. It was the priest. The time had come to exchange vows. The bride and groom turned to face each other, one with eyes full of hope and the other wishing to see nothing before them. 

"One heart," they repeated in unison, "One soul, One flesh. Bound in word, body, and spirit, from this day until the end of all days." 

Y/n looked at her new husband through her veil, thinking how comely he looked in his rich black velvet doublet, and his silver hair falling down to his shoulders in beautiful waves. She hoped to find blushing cheeks, bright eyes, and a shy smile. All she found was darkness in his deep blue eyes and anger in his clenched jaws. It was a warning, a sign of dark things that may come to pass. There was great danger here, but she shrugged the growing sense of foreboding away and still gave him her hand, shivering when he slipped a thin gold band onto her finger. There was nothing else she could do. The contract had been signed, and the vows had been said. For good or ill, she was his now, and her duty as a wife was to obey her husband. That was what she was taught. 

"With this ring," Manwë declared to all present, his words clearly forced. "I pledge my love!" 

His bride did the same. Y/n’s words were sweeter, and filled with tender hope. Her lord father came forward and lifted her veil. Manwë ground his teeth and did his duty, leaning in and kissing her chastely before swiftly pulling away. He accepted the necklace his father presented him in a beautifully carved box and draped it around his bride's throat. Y/n was overcome with the shivers. Her new jewels felt like a noose. She took deep breaths to compose herself and clung to the hope that the prince was as kind and courteous as the songs said he was and that love would bloom between them over time.  

"What the Gods have brought together," came the priest's cry, "let no one tear asunder!" 

The crowd clapped and cheered in approval when the crown prince and princess turned to face them. Manwë dutifully offered his arm, but y/n felt his stiffness as they walked down the aisle together. The chapel was aglow with the light of a thousand candles. A riot of color bled from the stained glass windows onto the floor. Those standing in the upper walkways threw rose petals onto the couple while they walked beneath them. Swirls of red and white rained down on y/n and Manwë even as the doors to the outside world opened. Crowds gathered outside Taniquetil’s great chapel cheered even louder than those inside. Y/n raised her arm and waved to them, thinking her heart would burst with joy. She turned to face her husband, her joy soon wilting like a flower under the scorching heat of the sun. When Manwë turned to her, his eyes filled with something akin to hate. 

“Come, wife," he said stiffly. "It is time we took ourselves to the feast." 

An hour later, they were walking into the great hall for the feast. Y/n tried to talk with her husband during the carriage ride to Ilmarin to engage his attention. Manwë would look at her with little interest before turning away. His cool indifference stung, but y/n chose to be patient. She thought he was grieving the loss of his first love. This will pass soon enough, she thought. Someday she would be rewarded. She was certain of it. 

The feast was a splendid affair. Eru had spared no expense. Minstrels strolled between tables, singing and fluting and strumming lyres. Fire dancers walked on stilts, juggling flaming batons in their hands. Guests dined on thick mushroom soup and salads of beans, onions, spinach, and beets. There was roasted boar and roasted quail and squab, and pears soaked in red wine. There were flagons of mead and flagons of ale, glass pitchers of iced summer wine, and the finest hippocras money could buy. Many broke into loud applause when servants walked into the hall carrying a great swan pie between them. The dish was reserved only for royalty. On this day, it would be served to everyone. Seated at the high table on an ornate chair under a richly embroidered canopy, y/n had little appetite for her food, fine as it all was. Her stomach would tie itself into unpleasant knots whenever she glanced at her husband.  

Manwë's mood had darkened even more. Irmo of House Blackgrave was seated with the other high lords and ladies, but Námo was nowhere to be seen. He had been ill since Manwë sent him away. A common illness, so the messenger said, one that would go away under the tender care of his sister. The prince knew differently. Námo was sick because of him.  

It should be me tending to him, and not Nienna.  

He could not tend to Námo now. The chance to do so disappeared when Manwë put his name on parchment and agreed to take y/n for a wife. With each stroke and flourish of the quill, he felt his sense of control slip away even more, making him feel helpless and angry. 

Weak. Helpless. Forever bowing to the will of others. This cannot continue. 

He heard gentle laughter. It was the Lord Commander's wife. She was wide-eyed while she watched a troupe of tumblers perform incredibly daring feats. Her doting husband kept her in his lap, not caring a whit for what other people thought. Eönwë was content to feed her morsels from his own plate before stealing unexpected kisses, his arm tightening around her waist in a protective gesture when she leaned in and cupped his face. He would listen indulgently whenever she said something, beaming like a man who knew his love was well returned. The sight filled Manwë with despair. He wished to hold Námo the same way, feed him the same way, and drown in his laughter. He turned to face his wife. She was playing with her food. Anger seared through his veins again.  

"Does the meal not please you?" he asked in rough, clipped tones.  

Y/n was startled. It was the first time the prince had asked anything of her since their first meeting half a year ago. 

"It is excellent, your highness," she replied meekly. "But I fear my appetite cannot do it justice."   

Your highness. The way she said it, all soft and submissive. Manwë gave her a measured look.  

Small. Meek. And bound by oath to obey me. The thoughts came swiftly and unbidden. Manwë ignored such thoughts and looked away just as a herald called the guests to dance. His wife placed her hand over his.  

"Shall we dance, your highness?" she asked hopefully. 

Manwë’s mouth twisting into an ugly sneer was all the answer y/n needed. He did not want to dance, eat, or join in the merrymaking. He wanted this night over and done with. 

There is only one thing left to do, he decided, and rose. The music slowly died when he stood to his full height. Everyone's attention turned to him. 

"I confess, my lords and ladies, as much as I would love to dance," he declared with a forced smile, "I have more... pressing matters to tend to with my lady wife. Come, my lady. It is time we did our duty." 

The others laughed. Y/n forced herself to smile. When her husband offered his arm, she rose and took it, turning a deaf ear to the ribald jests shouted their way. She let Manwë lead her through lofty halls and cool corridors, all while her stomach was a roil.  

She had been prepared for her bedding, but the way Manwë looked at her, his eyes ablaze with cold fury, frightened her. She looked straight ahead, clinging to the hope that her fears were unfounded and the prince would surprise her with tender words and gentle embraces. 

That was not to be. When the couple entered an airy bedchamber and the doors closed behind them, Manwë pulled away from her. He walked over to a side table and helped himself to a cup of wine.

Manwë studied her critically. Quiet. Dutiful. Perhaps this can work.

"You must now obey me in all things, yes?"

“I am your wife, your highness. I must obey."

Small. Meek. Bound by oath to obey me. This time, he did not push the thought away. Y/n was bound by oath to obey him. Whatever he asked of her, she had to do it without protest. The knowledge of it was too much for him to resist. 

It is time I regained some control over my life. I will not bow my head to yet another. 

"Undress yourself," Manwë commanded. He walked to the bed, his new boots clicking over the stone floor.  

Y/n blushed furiously. She dreamed of her husband undressing her, giggling while he fumbled with the clasps and lacings in her dress. She did not expect him to order her to undress herself in front of him. 

"Undress yourself," Manwë urged, his words like honey. "Come now. You are a true and obedient wife, yes?" 

Y/n wrung her hands. "I... I wish to be, your highness." 

Manwë lifted his cup and drank deeply, draining it to the last drop. "Then prove to me you are a true and obedient wife. Undress." 

Y/n flushed. She was his wife. She pledged herself to him. Swore to obey him in all things. And obey him she did. She first undid her braids, removing the pins and clips, her fingers fumbling at her hair like they were all broken thumbs. Manwë was content to watch. Seeing her hair fall free in loose strands did something to him. Watching her comply with his command did something to him. Whatever it was, he soon grew drunk on it.  

"You are still dressed, my lady," he observed. "Your gown… it is beautiful to be sure, but it is too much. Unburden yourself. But leave the necklace; I like it."  

Y/n flushed again. This time in humiliation. "Your highness, I... should I be doing this?" 

"Yes, sweet wife," Manwë replied, enjoying himself thoroughly. "It is only proper that you do so." 

His wife managed somehow, her cheeks aflame the entire time. Her heavy gown and sash slowly slipped off her shoulders and pooled around her feet. Her stays and slip followed. When she finally stepped out of the wisps that passed for smallclothes, Manwë put his cup on the ground and stood up, surprised to find himself already hard. 

There were gooseprickles all over y/n's exposed skin. Her eyes were fixed on the floor. Manwë circled her once, then twice, like a predator circling his prey. He let his hand glide up her spine and play with her hair. She shivered when he palmed the soft expanse of her breasts. Manwë felt her tremble. He liked it. It made him feel powerful, for the first time in many moons.  

"Undress me," Manwë ordered, slipping out of his boots.  

Y/n kept her eyes on the clasps on his tunic. She fumbled again, her fingers turning back into broken thumbs. Manwë smirked and kept still.  

Her hands were soft and warm when they brushed against his flesh. She was unsure of herself and hesitant, but she did her work dutifully and quickly. Once freed of his doublet and undershirt, Manwë returned to the bed and stood by the edge. 

"Come, wife," he said, holding out his hand. "Come here." 

His wife took one hesitant step after another, uncertain of what he wanted. Y/n had not been taught much concerning matters of the flesh. Her mother had told her to expect certain things, like discomfort and pain, but she also said such things would go away and the rest would be nothing but magic. Y/n studied her husband. There was hunger in his eyes, and flashes of something far more sinister. She feared there would be no magic this night. Not for her at any rate. 

"Closer," Manwë cooed. "Closer. Good. Now. On your knees." 

Y/n looked at him, shocked. "Your highness... I... I do not understand."  

Manwë grinned wolfishly. "Get on your knees and undo my belt. Go on. You would do it if you really wanted to be a dutiful wife, yes?" 

Y/n licked her lips. Of course, she wanted to be a dutiful wife. From the first moment she saw Manwë all she had ever wanted was to be a good wife and earn his love. She nodded and sank to her knees, grateful for the rug beneath her. She undid the clasp of his belt, then the drawstrings on his breeches. Her cheeks heated when Manwë tugged them down just enough to free his cock. 

"Open your mouth," he said, and caressed her cheek. He ran his thumb across her lips, imagining what they would look like, swollen and glistening with the remnants of his spend. "Go on."  

Y/n looked up at him, thinking she had heard wrong. Manwë caressed her cheek again, almost in affection. "Open your mouth. You do not want to disappoint me, do you?" 

"No," she sputtered. It was a strange feeling, having his cock slip past her parted lips and sink further and further into her mouth. She felt him, thick and salty and heavy on her tongue. Y/n glanced up at him, surprised to find his eyes closed and his head thrown back. 

"Loosen your jaw," he hissed, and wrapped his hands around her hair, pulling it out of the way. "There. Like that."

Manwë's mind soon grew hazy with bliss. Gods, her mouth feels so good. His grunts grew louder and louder. There was nothing else—no whispered endearments—that would soothe his wife and inflame her passions. Manwë did not care. He simply wanted to regain some control. And it felt so good, to take back what control he had over his life. 

I am in control.

Y/n did not know what else to do. She let him thrust into her mouth, her eyes stinging with confused tears. Manwë wiped the tear away with his thumb and brought it to his lips, as if to taste. He shivered when he tasted the saltiness of her tear on the tip of his tongue, and shivered when he felt the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her sinful lips. He wanted to kiss those lips while he claimed her maidenhead, but not now. He was so close that he could already feel a tightness in his belly. He brushed his hands over her hair and groaned when her lips tightened around his cock. Just a little longer. He needed to hold on for a little longer. And that was all he had. The world went still. Manwë let out a deep moan while his body splintered and shook with ecstasy. Y/n could do nothing but grip his thighs while the warmth of his spend filled her mouth.

Manwë panted and drew back, satisfied for now. "Swallow," he insisted, not moving another inch until y/n had swallowed every last drop. He stood back and admired the sight of his wife on her knees before him, her lips glistening and swollen just like he hoped they would be. That sense of feeling powerful returned, this time stronger than before. 

I am in control.

Manwë grabbed that feeling with eager hands, not wanting to let go of it. 

I am lord and master.

He finally walked away, setting himself to rights and picking up the rest of his clothes as he did so. "I will sleep in here," he said, opening the door to a smaller bedroom. "Good night." 

Y/n rose and turned to face her own bed. Her knees were sore, and her jaws hurt. She thought there would be more to this night. "But your highness, this is our wedding night. Should we be…" 

"Do not fret," Manwë yawned contentedly. An hour or two of rest was needed, and then he would consummate their marriage. "I will claim your maidenhead and consummate this marriage. But it will be at a time of my choosing. Not yours. Never yours. Am I understood?" 

Y/n opened her mouth in reply. She thought she deserved to have some say on how this night went. Manwë leaned against the door, his arms crossed, and his eyes darkening again. It frightened her, made her whisper, "Yes." 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes, your highness." 

"Good," Manwë muttered. "Never forget what I am, wife. Your lord and master, nothing less than that." 

Y/n tried to blink back her tears when he slammed the door behind him. Her hopes slowly crumbled like brittle clay. There would be no love. No tenderness. Not with him, not after tonight. Manwë made it plain with his few words that she should not expect more from him. Suddenly more tired than ever, she crawled into bed and slipped beneath a soft pelt, waiting for him to come for her again. 

The thought made her blood run cold.

tags: @cilil​ 

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

And here it is! The list of noble houses for my Medieval! Ainur fics! I had to put some of the valar into the same houses (ex. Vána and Yavanna with Varda), but I hope this will serve. The first medieval themed fic should be up by next week.

House Ilúvatar Coat of arms: A green and gold flame upon a black field Seat: Ilmarin Region: Taniquetil Head: King Eru Ilúvatar I Heirs: Prince  Melkor (Formerly) | Prince Manwë (current) Other members of the household:  Eönwë |Urwendi | Ilinsor | Nornorë  House Motto: To serve

House Starfield Coat of arms: A five petal silver rose within a circle of seven stars, upon a midnight blue field Seat: Starfall Region: Greengrove Members: Varda | Yavanna | Vána  Other household members of note:  Aiwendil | Arien | Ilmarë  House Motto: Light and life

House Archer Coat of arms: A  mounted archer on a dark green field Seat: High Tree Hall Region: Hunter’s Pass Members: Oromë | Nessa Other household members of note:  Tilion | Alatar | Palando House Motto: Our aim is true

House Shield Coat of arms: A rampant brown bear on checkered silver and gold Seat: Stonehearth Region: Bear Wood Members: Tulkas  Other household members of note:  Lúsion | Makar | Meássë    House Motto: Without fear       

House Silverwing Coat of arms: A silver nightingale upon a white field Seat: Cedar Hall Region: Cedar Lake Members: Vairë| Estë Other household members of note:  Melian | Lëa | Nielíqui  House Motto: Patience and comfort          

House Blackgrave Coat of arms: A set of silver scales with a raven perched on top of it against a white field.   Seat: Blackgrave Region: The Haunted Pass Members Nienna | Irmo | Námo  Other household members of note:  Olórin  | Silmo House Motto:  With fair judgement and mercy  

House Day Coat of arms: A black and silver hourglass on a pale blue field Seat: The Halls of Change Region: The island of Tol Eressëa   Members: Aluin Other household members of note:  Danuin | Ranuin | Fanuin House Motto: As ceaseless as time

House  Alqualondë Coat of arms: A white swan ship upon a blue-green field   Seat: Misty Harbor Region: Alqualondë Members Ulmo Other household members of note:  Ossë | Uinen | Salmar |  Ómar House Motto: By the strength of the sea    

House Mahal   Coat of arms: An anvil and hammer against a golden field   Seat: Golden Forge Region: Almaren Members: Aulë  Other household members of note:  Curumo | Velindo  House Motto: Ever industrious     

House Ironwrath Coat of arms: Two crossed black war hammers upon a crimson field Seat: Angband Region: The Iron Mountains Members: Melkor  Other household members of note:  Mairon | Gothmog | Tevildo | Thuringwethil House Motto: A servant to no one

tags: @cilil​ @edensrose​ @floraroselaughter​ @asianbutnotjapanese​ @fictionfordays​ 

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

And that's a wrap! From the 27th to the 30h of December I have a set of Dead Dove fics and taboo relationship fics lined up for posting. Enjoy your holidays, and have a virtual hug from me if it's not turning out the way you hoped it would be. Cheers!

Minors DNI/🔞

Christmas fic requests:

12th December – Aegon the Conqueror x Fem. Reader: Gift giving/part 1

13th December – Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader: The first snowfall

14th December – Balerion (the deity) x Fem. Reader: Gift giving/part 2

15th December – Modern! Beleg x Fem. Reader: Christmas morning breakfast

16th December – Modern! Celebrimbor x Reader: Secret Santa

17th December – Elrond x Fem. Reader: Snowball fight

18th December – Modern! Eönwë x Modern! Tulkas: Mistletoe

19th December – Fëanor x Fem. Reader : Twas the night before Christmas

20th December – Modern! Fingon x Reader: Hot chocolate and marshmallows

21st December – Glorfindel x Ecthelion: Winter Solstice

22ndDecember – Modern! Mairon x Fem. Reader: Baking

23rd December – Modern! Thranduil x Reader: Snowman

Winter Prompts for the @ainursecretsanta side event, and inspired by these prompts created by @cilil

12th December – Candles and light: Varda x Uinen

13th December – Decorating: Tevildo x Thû

14th December – Gift giving: Makar x Meássë

15th December – Hope: Estë x Elrond | Elrond x Celebrian

16th December – Letters and cards: Eönwë x Arien

17th December – Memories: Medieval! Melkor x Medieval! Manwë

18th December – Mistletoe: Aulë x Yavanna

19th December – Regrets and resolutions: Maedhros x Tulkas

20th December – Reindeer and sleighs: Vána x Nessa

21st December – Songs and carols: Gothmog and the Balrogs

23rd December – Ugly sweaters: Modern! Námo x Modern! Vairë

Whimsy's Christmas pick-a-gift special

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello everyone! For December I have scheduled a heap of fics to keep you all entertained until the day before Christmas eve. Here is the full list:

Christmas fic requests:

12th December – Aegon the Conqueror x Fem. Reader: Gift giving/part 1

13th December – Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader: The first snowfall

14th December – Balerion (the deity) x Fem. Reader: Gift giving/part 2

15th December – Modern! Beleg x Fem. Reader: Christmas morning breakfast

16th December – Modern! Celebrimbor x Reader: Secret Santa

17th December – Elrond x Fem. Reader: Snowball fight

18th December – Modern! Eönwë x Modern! Tulkas: Mistletoe

19th December – Fëanor x Fem. Reader : Twas the night before Christmas

20th December – Modern! Fingon x Reader: Hot chocolate and marshmallows

21st December – Glorfindel x Ecthelion: Winter Solstice

22ndDecember – Modern! Mairon x Fem. Reader: Baking

23rd December – Modern! Thranduil x Reader: Snowman

Winter Prompts for the @ainursecretsanta side event, and inspired by these prompts created by @cilil

12th December – Candles and light: Varda x Uinen

13th December – Decorating: Tevildo x Thû

14th December – Gift giving: Makar x Meássë

15th December – Hope: Estë x Elrond | Elrond x Celebrian

16th December – Letters and cards: Eönwë x Arien

17th December – Memories: Medieval! Melkor x Medieval! Manwë

18th December – Mistletoe: Aulë x Yavanna

19th December – Regrets and resolutions: Maedhros x Tulkas

20th December – Reindeer and sleighs: Vána x Nessa

21st December – Songs and carols: Gothmog and the Balrogs

23rd December – Ugly sweaters: Modern! Námo x Modern! Vairë

Also on the 22nd of December, I have planned a special choose your own gift featuring the Angband fam.

[asianbutnotjapanese]

The worldbuilding and the maps and the headcanons and the fics you make and write are unbelievable like I want to get inside your brain and see what you hide in there

Starfall, seat of House Starfield and Medieval! Ladies Varda, Yavanna and Vána

Full list of the great noble house of Valinor can be read here.

Starfall was built within a shallow crater that spreads over twenty acres, hence its name. The sacred trees of Valinor, Laurelin and Telperion are located in this crater.

At one time, Starfall was all open gardens and walkways, but after Ungoliant attempted to destroy the sacred trees, a fortress was built around the palace and surrounding grounds. The outer curtain wall was constructed to look like a star, with watchtowers and ramparts facing every direction. A secondary curtainwall was built to secure the trees and the palace. The buildings within all have proper plumbing, thanks to gravity-fed ceramic pipes and an abundance of aquifers, springs, rivers, and lakes in the region.

1.The sacred trees of Valinor.

2.Sword Tower and Shield Tower: Home to the most experienced warriors of the Knights of the Grove.

3.The palace proper: A building rising several stories into the air, with several towers. The palace also has underground floors that house the kitchens, servants’ quarters, cellars, and an ice room. The upper floors have room for guests, the second largest library in Valinor, a great hall that has twenty hearths, along with rooms and corridors filled with art and sculptures.

4.Palace stables

5.Palace kennels for hunting dogs

6.Stables that have been set aside solely to house the horses of Starfall’s warriors and knights.

7.Smithy

8.Barracks: Much like the Shield and Sword towers, the barracks have their own kitchen and armory.

9. Kennels

10.Granary and Warehouse

11.Grace and favor towers: Each tower has small aprtments set aside for widowed spouses and minor children of fallen commanders, and for those who have provided the highest acts of service for House Starfall.

12.The healer's tower

13.Gatehouses

14. Secondary curtainwall and portcullis

House Starfield coat of arms: A five petal silver rose within a circle of seven stars, upon a midnight blue field

tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil @wandererindreams @edensrose