#Naelis

[helaenasmoon]

Prisoner of Vows

Chapter One: Union

Summary: Naelys Velaryon is the beloved daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. After the Dance begins, she is trapped in Kings Landing and forced to choose between her blood.

Warnings: angst, religion, naelys is pious

Having not been in Kings Landing for several years, Naelys could not say she was particularly excited about their visit. Alas, her marriage to Aegon Targaryen was fundamental to both sides of the family. Her father would not have forced her into such a situation, but he was dead, both of them were. Harwin Strong lost to fire, as Laenor Velaryon had been. 

She particularly disliked having to sit in a carriage with her stepfather and mother, when she could have just flown her dragon to the Keep. 

"I mislike all of this, Sweetling," Rhaenyra says, breaking the silence in the carriage. Her hand was rubbing at her swollen belly, wincing slightly as the carriage rocked. "You must understand this. Your grandsire is adamant about keeping his promises, and as his heir, I must do the same." 

Naelys nods her head, her lips frowning. 

"It is easy enough to marry him, mother. You will return to Dragonstone, and I will be left to stitch our broken family together by myself." 

Daemon dares to comment. 

"You may have whoever you want once you are married," he says, a smirk on his thin lips. "Aegon is known to take in whores, you may as well do the same." Naelys grimaces, scoffing suddenly. She was a woman of faith, the suggestion that she would take a mistress was offensive. "I'd rather not, Daemon," she says, sparing a look towards her heavily pregnant mother. 

Rhaenyra was pregnant with her second child with Daemon, and Naelys could see that the carriage ride was bothering her mother. The bumps of the rocks and gravel left her looking sick and uncomfortable. She hoped the ride was almost over for her mother's sake. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Kings Landing had changed drastically since her last time there. Naelys climbs out of the stuffy carriage, only to be met with the thick air of the Keep. Dragonstone was open and the smell of salt and dragons was all there was. The Keep smelled... unclean. Before she can think of her old home, a pair of tiny arms wrapped around her waist. Joffrey had stuffed his face into her skirts, his little legs wobbly. The boy was only four and had become extremely attached to his older sister, much like how Luke clung to their mother. She picks him up, little Joff being balanced on her hip as she waits for the rest of the family to leave their respective carriages. 

Rhaenyra stands nearby, cradling her baby bump as she watches over her children. Jace and Luke come to their sister's side, Luke hiding behind her as the family is approached by the Queen Consort, her children standing behind her. Naelys tries to avoid eye contact with Aegon or Aemond as she waits for her mother to talk. It had never been her strong suit, not that she would want to talk to anyone. The nasal moan of Silverwing can be heard above, the large she-dragon flying past the gates.  Naelys smiles the sound of her dragon bringing her comfort. 

At some point, Naelys finds herself in her old bedroom. The introductions had been short, and everyone had been sent away to explore their old home. Instead of Targaryen memorabilia everywhere, there were signs of the Seven, and she found it comforting. Unlike many in her family, Naelys had become a devout worshipper of the Seven, she found happiness in her faith. 

"Not a thing has changed," The gentle voice of her mother resonates in the air, and Naelys turns to see Rhaenyra standing at the door. She stalks towards the bed, her pale fingers tracing the embroidery of Naelys' old bed covers. They were a deep blue, with shells and pearls embroidered. "When you were born, your father would only dress you in blue, to show that you were his little Velaryon princess..." Rhaenyra muses, holding her belly as she sat down on the covers. "Gods forbid I try to dress you in red or black, he'd have a fit!" She laughs, smiling as Naelys takes a seat next to her. "I regret that he cannot see you now..." 

Naelys, despite sharing the same father as her younger brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joff, had white hair much like her Valyrian ancestors. 

Most days she thought it was the only reason her legitimacy wasn't argued whilst her brothers were. There were whispers, of course, but no one openly called her a bastard. 

"You were his little pearl... that's what he called you," Rhaenyra grasps her daughter's hand in her own, running her thumb over the smooth skin of her palm. "By the end of this, I'm sure you will find your own happiness, Lys." "What if I don't? What if they kill me once you leave for Dragonstone?" It was rare for Naelys to voice her worries, her only confidant was Silverwing, her dragon. She had difficulty communicating with her mother, especially after the death of her father all those years ago. "They know what I am." Rhaenyra snaps her head to the left, looking at her daughter with a worried expression. "Your grandsire would never allow it, you know this!" 

Their conversation is cut short when Daemon enters the room, looking around at the interior with an interested expression. 

"Dinner is ready." 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Naelys sat in her seat, sipping at the cider in her goblet as everyone around her chatted. She was seated inbetween her future husband and her stepfather. 

Quite uncomfortable. 

"Your necklace is very beautiful, Princess," Alicent starts up a conversation, as she sat across from Naelys. "I did not know you were pious." Rhaenyra looks to her right, smiling encouragingly towards her daughter. The necklace in question was a small pendant of the seven-pointed star, the chain had pearls embedded in, and the star itself was silver. "Thank you, Your Grace," Naelys says, giving a curt smile. "I find much comfort in the Faith, though there isn't much of a Sept on Dragonstone." "What she means is that she locks herself in her chambers and prays for hours." Daemon cuts in, looking at Naelys as she places her goblet down. "I do not find that shameful in the slightest, My Prince," says Alicent. "I'd be delighted if she accompanied me to the Sept on the morrow." 

Naelys smiles gently, not noticing the stare that her betrothed was giving her. Aegon sulks at the table, taking a heavy swig of his wine. He hadn't been expecting this in the slightest. Naelys had been a mature girl for her age when they were all children, and it seemed to Aegon that she hadn't changed. Polite smiles and chatter with his mother, but not once has she looked his way. He had even combed his hair before dinner, much to his mother's surprise. 

Perhaps that awkward disposition had stuck with Naelys even after all these years. 

The awkward staring coming from her betrothed had not escaped Naelys. She could feel Aegon's eyes burning her skin, like a hot flame. She had not seen Aegon since the incident on Driftmark, where Aemond had lost his eye. She had just claimed Silverwing before the funeral was to be held, so she had snuck out from her room to be with her dragon. 

Needless to say she had gotten caught in the crossfire of the dispute between her brothers and Aemond. Rocks were thrown, eyes were removed, but at the end of the night Naelys and Aegon had been betrothed to each other. A feeble attempt at peace by her beloved grandsire. The dispute had left Naelys with fear for what the future held. 

Being married to her own uncle once she was of age wasn't exactly something she found herself looking forward to. 

The distance away from Daemon was welcome, though. 

Dinner had come to a finish without much fuss, and Naelys could feel the exhaustion move over her body in waves. Her dark brown eyes drooped slightly as she sat in her seat, barely registering the sound of people getting up to retire. Her mother and younger brothers had already left, as had the queen and Naelys' grandfather. Daemon still resided at her side, per her mother's request. He was to be her chaperone until she was married to Aegon. 

Naelys sighs, taking one last sip of the crisp cider in her goblet. The aroma of apples and cinnamon blessing her consciousness as she savored the flavor. It was the taste of her childhood.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Rhaenyra had taken it upon herself to get her daughter ready for her trip to the Sept with the queen. Whilst Naelys usually wore soft blue gowns to represent her father, she chose a sweet velvet dress, black and deep maroon. Rhaenyra takes her time pulling her daughter's snowy hair into a braid, fastening the braid to the back of Naelys' head, as the princess preferred her hair to be pulled back. Whilst Rhaenyra herself had golden-white hair, Naelys' hair had always been paler, white as snow. It was thick, though, and it was a hassle to deal with. 

"I'll light a candle for father while I'm there," Naelys says, looking at herself in the mirror as Rhaenyra finishes up the hairdo. Rhaenyra fishes out some strands of the white hair, bringing out fringe to frame Naelys' round face. Rubbing her thumb over the pale cheeks of her daughter, the princess sighs. "My beautiful girl..." Rhaenyra coos, a certain sadness in her voice. She had objected the union between Aegon and her daughter for years, unwilling to marry off her heir and only daughter. Naelys was willing to do her duty if it meant some semblance of peace could be found, but it pained Rhaenyra to give her child away. 

Naelys grabs a small mahogany box off of her large dresser, smiling encouragingly at her mother. 

"I had this made for the queen, well wishes should do us well," says Naelys, handing the small box to her mother. Rhaenyra opens the small hatch, peering into the box with curiosity. Small gifts were no surprise coming from the young princess, she often made things for those she loved. Her love was usually only for her brothers and mother, but Rhaenyra supposed this was a special occasion. 

Inside the box was a golden ring, embedded with a large emerald.

"Queen Alicent always seems to wear gold, and it looks very regal on her, so..." Naelys awkwardly shifts as she watches her mother observe the ring. 

"I am sure Alicent will love this, Sweet Girl," Rhaenyra says, finally closing the box before setting it back down on the white mahogany dresser. 

...

The trip to the Sept had come early, Naelys listening to the flickering of candles as she kneeled beside Alicent. The queen lights a candle with a burning wick before folding her hands in front of her. Naelys light her own candle, murmuring the name of her father before readying herself to pray. The Sept was quiet, as it was meant to be, a stark difference from the rest of Kings Landing and the Keep. The silence held a certain comfort to it, something Naelys was not used to. She doesn't notice Alicent’s gaze until the queen decides to speak. 

"Do you pray often?" She questions, looking towards the princess as she opens her soft brown eyes. Naelys folds her hands into her lap, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Yes... I pray to the Gods very often, Your Grace." She said quietly, her eyes focused on the candle she had lit for her father, the smaller one beside it represented Ser Harwin, though she could not say that out loud. "I can only see my father in my dreams, so I pray to dream when I sleep." 

As a child, Naelys clung to her father. Laenor doted on her like she was the only thing that mattered to him, so while many gave her odd stares and made her feel unwanted in the Keep, her father would sneak her extra cake after dinner, and he even taught her how to spar. His death had devastated Naelys, and the union between her mother and Prince Daemon had put an extreme strain on their relationship. She had a hard time connecting with her youngest brother, Aegon, due to how she felt about Daemon. 

It was difficult. 

"My stepfather teases me, but I find comfort in my faith." 

Alicent is quiet, and she looks away, her eyes narrowed slightly. 

Faith was a strong ally, Alicent Hightower knew this better than most. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Naelys sits at her dresser, undoing her braids as she looked at herself in the mirror. The snowy-white tresses of hair fall down her back, and she can hear the distinct sound of her music box. Her grandmother would be arriving soon, Rhaenys had just sent word of their departure from Dragonstone. Rhaena had brought Joffrey to her quarters, as he was getting fussy and their mother was already abed. 

"Are you worried? About marriage, I mean," Rhaena asks swiftly, her dark eyes focused on the young boy as he rolled around in his sister's bedding. Naelys walks over to the large bed, handing her brother a toy before settling next to Rhaena. They had become close in the years since their parents had gotten married, Naelys acting like an older sister towards Baela and Rhaena. Baela had voiced her displeasure in letters about Naelys' union to Aegon, and they were all sure they would hear more once she arrived in court. "Of course I am, but it's my duty." Naelys responds plainly, huffing slightly as she rakes her fingers through her hair. "Will you watch over Joff once you return to Dragonstone? I'm sure mother will have her hands full with the new babe..." Rhaena frowns, her eyes narrowed sadly. 

"I wish I could stay with you here... perhaps you could take me to ward," Rhaena scoffs, seemingly not liking the idea of her cousin being married. "If you stayed here with me, you wouldn't have the chance to claim a dragon, Rhaena," Naelys rises from the bed, grabbing her cousins hand and leading her towards a brazier stationed by the window. With a steady hand, Naelys uncovers it, revealing a pale pink egg, with onyx sprinkled on the scales. Rhaena's eyes widen, shockingly she looks towards Naelys as the princess smiles softly. 

"Silverwing released a new clutch of eggs," she says, admiring the egg with happy eyes. "When I saw this one, I immediately thought of you, Rhaena." "I want you to bring this egg to Dragonstone with you, and if we're lucky enough, Morning will be yours." 

Rhaena wants to speak. She wants to remind Naelys that isn't how claiming a dragon works, but the egg is so beautiful, and she feels a striking pulse of connection whenever she gets too close to it. 

This may be her dragon.

hello, hello! I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter, and any feedback is absolutely appreciated! 

just an extra note, I'm fully aware that Morning didn't hatch from Silverwing, I just made it that way for plot purposes 🎀

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[avrwen]

"justamente así" asiente, alentando el tiro opuesto, sonrisita sardónica en sus comisuras acompañando a su tono "ahora solo falta que la emboques" carcajea, fanfarrón, pues arwen siempre ha destacado en los juegos de beer pong, mas no pretende ser altanero, nada más se divierte.

[dctyandhonor]

who: @naelysvelaryon where: during the release of the sun wheels in the riverlands

Her hands delicately held the finely crafted sun wheel, flowers interwoven beautifully with an assortment of twigs. The little slip of parchment Ginevra had written on, was nestled securely and safely in-between. It had taken her longer than she would like to admit; to find something to either let go of or to wish for. Her insides had been chaos as of late. Too much she knew she wanted, too much she knew she did not want. And secrets? Those secrets had no place written down.

Ginny had settled on something eventually, but she could not help but think it superficial. She would have to see if it helped, to release her words down the river and watch them disappear. Would have to see if there was a lessening on her shoulders, her soul.

The crowd eventually departed to walk toward the river and the orange glow of the lanterns posted alongside the stream to light the way. In the faint glow, Ginevra could spot a familiar head of dark hair just a little up ahead. Her steps quickened and Ginny called out to slow Naelys' steps. "Come on," she beamed, "We can release them together, what do you think?"

[naelysvelaryon]

♛ → NEW VALYRIA present(s) LADY NAELYS VELARYON, the LADY of DRIFTMARK. when the dragons danced in the sky they thought the BLACKS would still fly, but in the blink of an eye, they would all die. the TWENTY-SIX year old FEMALE who was WISTFUL & REFLECTIVE before they saw the first of the flames, is now MELANCHOLIC & ANXIOUS after seeing the last. ( ana de armas )

pinterest / playlist / bio

key notes:

the pampered, overly suffocated daughter of house velaryon; she was always considered to be sensitive b y corlys, and thus there is a bit of a 'glass' aura around her. many think she will simply shatter into a million pieces. "you know you have to be softer with nellie..." i do picture that rhaenys probably tried to a bit firmer with her, have her develop some sort of tough skin - she most certainly has not.

she was never able to bond with a dragon, and often narrowly escaped death in trying to form a bond with one of them. she had a particularly bad experience with silverwing. neither did she fight in the dance of dragons, she felt and still feels utterly helpless in this regard. due to this, she believes something is faulty in her 'valyrian god complex' - if they were gods, what kind of god was she? a broken one? less of a god?

nellie appears very melancholic, tends to give witchy vibes - does not partake in anything of the such at all. this is solely because i find the contrast incredibly funny; she is well aware of such things existing within the world and believes in them whole heartedly...only does not think it is for her. in regard to her melancholia, most of the time she is not feeling sad at all - merely has a good ability to drift off and begin to daydream.

rook's rest and the fate that befell her mother at the hands of the greens continues to haunt her; she does not have dreams often, but when she does she has nightmares of vhagar appearing above her in grey, stormy clouds.

she has managed to accept all that has happened, but interestingly, the abandonment of prince daemon targaryen continues to make her feel increasing anger and resentment. she truly believed should he have stayed in contact with rhaenyra, heard the message that rhaenys was flying alone, he would have accompanied her on ceraxes - and she would have lived. thus, naelys has a complicated relationship with her targaryen cousins of dragonstone. she wishes to blame their father for all the wrongdoing in the world, as much as the hightowers.

nellie missed a decent amount of the end of the war - she spent the final six months across the narrow sea, within the safety of the city of braavos. she was recently across the narrow sea with the children of her oldest brother deimos when jaehaerys targaryen staged his conquering of the crownlands, the stormlands and the stepstones: this is because of maximus celtigar's insistance that was something was happening. she has since been recalled to kings landing now the dust has settled.

connections: deimos velaryon: darling big brother who can do no wrong, is the living embodiment of the good of lord corlys and princess rhaenys. deserves to be the hand of the king, for his balanced approach; he focuses on the good of the realm. she sort of wonders if deimos has been losing some faith in himself though, inspired by the quote "why do you ask god for a swordsman? look at your hands." she has taken on a maternal role in caring for his children since he became a widow and they lost their mother. vhaenessa velaryon: kim kardashian vs kourtney kardashian; these two are so incredibly different. naelys has always been latching onto how vhaenessa managed to connect with a dragon, and she never did. there is love there, but there is a lot of comparison between the two sisters. marcella celtigar: her bestest friend, her soul mate; there is no doubt that naelys views marcella through rose tinted glasses though. marcella celtigar has been her companion since they were both under the age of five, often seen holding hands throughout the hallways of the red keep in the shadows of their fathers. she knows of marcella's sinister practices, though thinks she has it all under control. truly, marcella is the love of nellie's life - she'd never turn on her. saella qoherys: the older sister figure in her life, considering naelys does not get on entirely well with vhaenessa - this is ironic, considering saella and vhaenessa are close friends. upon returning to court, saella has taken nellie under her wing in order to point out the changes in the court to nellie, who was never politically savy. she is well aware of saella's devious practices, though it never crosses her mind. ginevra templeton: another companion that naelys made considering both of their families fought black; she has grown closer to ginerva in recent times, often exchanging letters whilst she was across the narrow sea. naelys is growing aware of the differences between them though, considering how ambitious ginerva truly is - and she wonders how far she would go to accomplish what she wants. rhaegar targaryen / luco, the swordsmith's son: she does not know rhaegar targaryen well. she knows a man of mixed braavosi and lysene descent named luco, the son of a swordsmith, who worked as a page within her household in braavos. the two became far too close, with naelys growing borderline dependent on him - despite their clear social class difference. lines crossed, tut tut. she never truly believed herself to be a worthy valyrian lady, considering she had failed in what all but her could do - and therefore, she promised to throw it all away and remain with him once returning deimos his children. because what was the world when someone loves you for you? she was ready to tell deimos, as much as she dreaded it. upon venturing to the swordsmiths shop one day, returning a quill in hand, she was shocked to hear he had no son who went by the name luco. that evening when he appeared on her balcony again, she pushed him away from her - demanding to know who he was. the next she knew, luco had died. she has spoken not a word of it to anyone. // the entire time it was rhaegar targaryen using his talents as a faceless man, getting close to her with the purpose of assassinating her and sending her body back to deimos. he could not go through with this, and so faked his death.

quick facts:

for someone who claims she knows right from wrong, she surely does associate with a large amount of rotten folk. this does not ever cross her mind - makes you wonder.

naelys knows how to play the lute, realising that she could tighten the strings to achieve a more echoing sound. it is her passion: her favourite thing to play would be 'enter sandman' by metallica or 'uprising' by muse.

she tends to wear her hair up as pictured in the gif above, with strings of hair left out; that would be her usual hairstyle on a day to day basis.

[itgirlgyu]

i think nothing can come in between a girl and her obsession with In Bloom.

[edea-rpg]

@denebrpg

[alastors-radioshow]

7 🐶

send a number + an emoji to bite my muse on the...

shoulder + 🐶 playfully, as a joke

"Attempt that again, and I will make a mission out of removing your teeth, ò̵̢̠̚n̵̞̦͋͜ë̷̻̩̪̲́̈́̌͝ ̴̰͙̓͐̑̈́b̸̡̜̞̋̚y̸̭͑̓̇̀ ̵̱̮̑ơ̵̮͐̈͗n̸̨̥̓͗͛͝ë̴̹́̂͘~̵̰͂" He'd hiss, crimson orbs glowing eerily.

It was a commonly known fact that the stag did not enjoy physical touch, especially when said touch was administered by someone he did not consider to be part of his inner circle of friends.

Needless to say, biting him was probably one of the most foolish decisions one could make.

[absynthhh]

pierce watson. done by my favorite human demon lady 🖤 thank u my fallen angel @naelys-the-aster

[prettyl3af]

No hate but like I dont understand chris girlies. Like matt is right there. I'm in love with him, matt girlie for life

omg omg listen now i’m a both girlie tbh, but im loving matt more recently

[passione-vera]

Naeli presenta il singolo "Berlino"

[selineram3421]

Lovesick Alastor Headcanon

Alastor X Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ deer man is possessive/obsessive over you, hides it somewhat, very yandere coded but doesn't force you to do anything you don't like, suggestive/implied, hint at cannibalism, blood, ☺🔪 ⚠

This goes for almost all versions of the Reader. Child reader/platonic relationships excluded.

He's had his eye on you for a while now. Of course you didn't know since he always kept his composure.

You were a jewel among rocks to him.

Will do anything to make you fall in love with him. Not make but persuade.

Uses Vox as a dummy whenever he can to make himself look good.

Waits for you to approach him.

And when you do he's the happiest demon in Hell.

He likes when you wear red. Especially if you are covered in blood.

Its not yours, no. He'd never let that happen.

Literally crazy about you.

He doesn't do PDA but behind closed doors is a different story.

Alastor is a gentleman! He won't do anything unless you ask him to. Kisses, cuddles, hand holding, biting-

*cough*

Depending on what you like of course.

Only spills your blood with your permission. Fully consensual.

Likes holding you close or having you nearby. It calms him down when he's upset or too peppy.

When you are at the hotel, he likes whisking you away to his office for kisses.

Buys you jewelry, food, clothes. A lot of gifts that are in his colors. Maybe one thing you'll wear everyday with a microphone on it.

Everyone knows to STAY AWAY.

Of course Vox is an idiot and tries to woo you but fails miserably.

"You know how much I adore you my dearest.", Alastor caresses your face. "Jusqu'à la fin des temps ou jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ait plus que nous." (Until the end of time, or until it's just us.)

Makes sure you're content and well taken care of.

Of course there are times when he does too much and you get upset.

"Alastor, please let me do this for myself.", you'll say with a pout.

"Forgive me my darling.", he kisses the top of your head. "You know I like taking care of you, but as you wish."

He shows off his demon form because he knows you like it.

Teases you about it later in your shared hotel room, until you're hiding your blushing face.

"I thought you liked my radio dial eyes?", he leans closer, purposefully turning them into radio dials. "￦as ¡ wr¤Ω&?", he asks, static more noticeable in his voice.

"D-don't!", you'll stutter and shiver, peeking through your fingers.

His smile widens and he'll continue transforming. "What's the matter my love?", he chuckles as he looms over you. "Trouble holding back?"

Falls in love all over again when you get pissed at someone.

Watches as you tear up said demon and cheers for you. "Save me a piece or two darling!"

Man worships and adores you.

No one will ever see you make the Radio Demon blush, but you don't mind. That's only for you to see.

He's yours after all.

Thank you to @the-friend-lol for making me the gif.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[helaenasmoon]

Prisoner of Vows

Chapter Two: Courting

Summary: Naelys Velaryon is the beloved daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. After the Dance begins, she is trapped in Kings Landing and forced to choose between her blood.

"I remember you disliking tourneys," Helaena says, her thin lips pursed in a straight line. "Yet, for your marriage celebrations, we must attend one. It is quite strange." Helaena herself was strange, but Naelys loved her all the same. They had been close as children before Naelys and her family moved away to Dragonstone. Helaena had been the first to congratulate Naelys on claiming Silverwing, as Naelys had done the same when she bonded with Dreamfyre. The fact that they hadn't seen each other in years didn't change their fondness for each other. 

"I still have no love for them, but Mother enjoys them..." 

They slip into the box above the arena, both girls taking seats. Naelys tries to calm herself, nervously surveying the dusty arena. Aegon is beside his mother, already taking to his cups, the queen giving him a scathing glare. 

"Ser Criston will be taking part, as will your stepfather," Helaena says, noticing her companion fidgeting. "I heard that they held a competition against each other almost two decades ago when our mothers were our age." Naelys sighs at the mention of Daemon. "I also heard that Ser Cole bested him." The idea of seeing Daemon defeated on the dirty ground was a fond one. 

Naelys feels a hand on her shoulder, and when she looks over her shoulder, she sees her mother walking past, wobbling as she nurses the baby bump. The princess comes down the balcony, taking her seat next to her daughter, Jace, and Luke following shortly. Rhaenyra sighs deeply, the heaviness of the babe taking its toll on her. 

Naelys hated tourneys, but she would make do for her mother. 

Nearly an hour passes, and the princess can feel her boredom eating her alive. Daemon had indeed participated, but he hadn't been pinned against Ser Cole, much to her disappointment. She had been forced to hand over her favor to her stepfather, and that alone had put her in a foul mood. Naelys would rather be riding the skies with Silverwing but alas was forced to observe the most boring of events. As the tourney comes to an end, Rhaenyra grasps her daughter's hand tightly, a wide smile on her face. 

"Your little cousin and grandmother have arrived," she coos, grunting as Naelys helps her to her feet. The large bump not helping in the slightest. "We should go see them, then." 

Baela had grown taller, and more beautiful. Her face was stern and unmoving, like stone. She reminded Naelys of Daemon, though she liked her cousin much more. Rhaenys pulls Naelys into a sweet embrace, her thin fingers wrapping around a lock of white hair. 

"I would congratulate you, but I'm not sure how, cousin," Baela says, her eyes narrowed slightly as she eyes the Hightower's as they take their leave from the hall. Naelys smiles awkwardly, grasping Baela's hand in her own. "In any case, I'm glad you came. I was hoping we could do some dragonriding together," she speaks in a hushed tone, but her plans do not escape her mother. Rhaenyra huffs to herself, lowering her gaze to her oldest child. "I don't like you riding whilst I'm in this condition, Sweetling," Rhaenyra grits out, a lightness to her words. Naelys couldn't understand her mother's worry. Silverwing was fiercely protective of her, not to mention the great silver beast was known to be quite docile, at least as docile as a dragon could get. Silverwing was large, only slightly smaller than Vermithor, so Rhaenyra's fear was slightly understandable, but in all the years Naelys had been a dragonrider she had never had a tumble. 

"Then I will not ride," Naelys says, smiling softly at her mother as Rhaenyra eyes her knowingly. "Without grandmother, of course! I'm sure Rhaenys wouldn't mind accompanying us to the skies," Baela intersects, giving her cousin a knowing look. Despite being a pious and quiet girl, Naelys became quite ravenous when it came to her dragon. Nothing could keep her away from Silverwing for long. Rhaenys smirks as she watches the young girls giggle together, hiding their smiles behind their hands. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

Having Daemon Targaryen as a chaperone was something Naelys would not wish on her worst enemy, but her mother had insisted on Daemon accompanying her around the Keep until the wedding. Daemon was charismatic enough, and Rhaenyra trusted him to look after her daughter during the short courting process she and Aegon would be having. 

That being said, it was awkward to have lunch with the queen and her son alongside her stepfather who notoriously hated the Hightower's. 

The garden was nice, and the cool air made a good atmosphere. Naelys sips at the cinnamon-spiced tea in her cup as Daemon absentmindedly dangles Dark Sister off his hip. Alicent sat next to Aegon, keeping their cups full of cider instead of wine, her lips pursed sternly as she kept an eye on her eldest child. Aegon himself stares blankly at Naelys as she sips her tea, dainty fingers cradling the glass softly. Naelys was less clumsy than she had been years prior. She no longer tripped over her long skirts, and she no longer tried to make Aegon play with her, as she did often when they were children. She would follow Helaena around, as they were close, but her relationship with Aegon hadn't been much different. They would sneak into the kitchens to steal extra cake, and Aegon would always take a swig of wine he knew he wasn't allowed to have. Now she was so much like a proper lady, something his mother liked. 

But she wouldn't look at him. 

Sitting beside Daemon in her dark burgundy gown, Naelys holds a neutral expression on her face, licking her lips every so often to clear the remnants of tea. Her cup had been refilled three times in total, because despite what others may believe, Aegon could count. Naelys tries to avoid conversation with Daemon, but he speaks to her anyway. 

"My brother will be attending the wedding, I assume. I haven't seen much of him since we arrived," Daemon says, his thin lips pursed in an ugly manner, much the way his face usually looked. Daemon Targaryen never truly looked happy or content. Naelys perks up at the mention of her grandfather, her big brown eyes trained on her stepfather as he speaks. Letters had been sent to Dragonstone telling them of King Viserys' festering sickness, though her mother and stepfather had never taken them seriously. Rhaenyra's trust in Maester's died alongside her mother and baby brother. 

"The King, as I'm sure you are aware, is very sick these days," Alicent says, a bite to her words as she stares at Daemon through her thick lashes. "He wishes to save his energy for the festivities." The Hightower matriarch folds her hands in front of her, sparing a glance towards Aegon. "His Grace is very excited for the wedding, given he hasn't seen you in such a long time, Princess," she says, Daemon narrowing his eyes at her. "I remember you were quite close with him before your departure to Dragonstone." Naelys smiles slightly, her fingers digging into the velvety fabric of her dress, the burgundy gown creasing at the force.

Naelys was sure that her mother had already seen the king since they arrived, but she hadn't spoken about her visit at all. Rhaenyra had the habit of dropping by her daughter's room every night, without fail. When Naelys was still a young child, it would result in whimsical bedtime stories, or Rhaenyra would read to her about the Conquerors adventures across Westeros and Dorne. As she became older, though, Naelys would read to her mother, and sometimes her younger brothers. Joffrey had become extremely attached to his older sister, and followed her everywhere. 

Lately, though, Rhaenyra hadn't said anything about her father during her nightly visits with her daughter. Naelys had noticed, of course, but decided against mentioning it to her mother. The current pregnancy had not been treating Rhaenyra well, and Naelys worried for her mother. Her grandsire must have been worse than either of them thought. 

"Mm, my brother would not miss such a thing," Daemon says, looking at Naelys as she takes another sip of her tea, her eyes worried. 

She would visit him, Naelys decides. Her grandsire was sick, surely he would enjoy some company. 

The group moves from eating pastries and sipping tea into walking the gardens, Aegon and Naelys a few steps ahead of Daemon and Alicent. 

When they were children, the gardens were a common place to see them playing together. Aegon would chase Helaena and Naelys around with a wooden stick, pretending to be a villain of sorts, and little Aemond would play the knight in shining armor. Alas, they were no longer children, and things were much different now. Naelys herself had changed since the death of her father, she seemed somber to Aegon, a certain sadness to her face. 

The awkward silence was deafening, and Naelys could feel herself wanting to run away desperately. She glances at the man beside her, only to realize that Aegon is picking his fingers bloody. Perhaps unconsciously, he rips at the skin of his cuticles, blood seeping from the small wound as he did so. It looked painful, and she cringed slightly. Naelys moves her body to shield the view of Daemon before grabbing at Aegon's hand, stopping his self abuse. 

"Stop that, you're hurting yourself," she mutters, feeling the clammy flesh of Aegon's hand in her own. "See? You're bleeding, Aegon." She examines his bloodied fingers, frowning as she notices that he must do this often, the lingering scars of his picking evident. Aegon himself stares at her, his light eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. It looked almost as though he was confused on why she would show any sort of concern towards him. 

Aegon looked exceedingly different, Naelys notices. When they last saw each other, his hair had been much longer, the white mess of curls had reached past his shoulders back then, and always made him look similar to his mother, in Naelys' opinion. Now it was shorter, his curls less pronounced. His eyes, still that light lilac hue, had deep shadows underneath them, indicating his night lifestyle. Aegon no longer looked like the boy who would pretend to be a dragon and chase her around the courtyard. 

He looked like a man. 

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╮

"How long does it usually take for an egg to hatch?" Lucerys asks, glancing at the pink egg as it rested in the lit brazier. Naelys is pulling a comb through her brothers fluffy brown hair when he asks the question, his little nose twitching as Naelys' incense is burned. Their nighttime routine was simple. Luke and Joff would come to see their older sister before bed, due to their mother's condition. She would ready them for bed instead of a servant due to Joffrey's fussy nature, he remained well-balanced when with Naelys. 

"It depends," she coos, setting the brush down on the vanity. "Sometimes it takes years, or centuries. Other times dragon eggs don't hatch at all. They can often turn to stone, as mine did." 

Rhaenyra had placed an egg in Naelys' cradle, as was their tradition. The egg, however, failed to hatch, even after the princess was born. It left room for Naelys to claim her own dragon, Silverwing, at age thirteen. 

She no longer mourned the desolation of being dragonless, but she understood Rhaena's plight either way. 

"Will this one hatch, do you think?" Luke clung to Naelys as she leads the boys out of her chambers and towards their own rooms. Little Joff was fast asleep in her arms as she walked the long corridors, the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet making a slight echo. "I do." She answered, finally tucking Joffrey in his bed, the toddler still fast asleep. Naelys kisses his forehead gently, as their mother often did, before turning to usher Lucerys to his bed as well. 

"We have a long day tomorrow," Naelys said, making sure to leave the pitcher of water on a desk nearby. Luke got thirsty during the night quite easily. "Make sure you sleep well, Luke." 

Leaving the room, Naelys makes her way towards the nursery. She would bid her youngest brother, Aegon, goodnight before heading to bed herself. 

Before she can enter the nursery, the door opens suddenly, and Naelys jumps, a soft gasp leaving her lips. Elinda, Rhaenyra's lady, let out a startled shriek as well, placing a hand over her heart as she breathes deeply. 

"I'm so sorry, Princess! I didn't know you would be in your way here, so-" "It's alright, Elinda, everything is fine..." 

Elinda closes the door behind her, glancing at the cradle that housed the youngest of Rhaenyra's sons once more. 

"Princess, your mother had told me to fetch you after I was done putting down Prince Aegon," Elinda says, giving Naelys a soft look. "Ah, alright then. I'll go to see her... you should get some rest as well, Elinda." Naelys smiles at Elinda, giving her a kind look before turning to travel towards her mother's quarters. 

When she finally arrives, Rhaenyra is pacing the room, her long golden-silver hair pulled out of her usual braids. Naelys smiles gently, walking towards her mother carefully. Her nerves were obviously on edge, it was common for Rhaenyra to pace with an unhappy expression on her face when she was worried about something. 

"Elinda said you wanted to see me?" 

Rhaenyra turns, her eyes narrowed slightly with worry. 

"I've decided that the wedding is off, I will not allow you to marry your uncle," she says, her hand cradling her baby bump tenderly. "I cannot leave you here with these vultures, I simply can't do it." Rhaenyra snaps, resting herself in a chair. Naelys' gentle smile fades quickly, and she looks at her mother as though Rhaenyra had grown  second pair of arms. 

"Are you mad? The wedding is the day after tomorrow, we cannot back out! Grandsire would never allow it, neither would the Queen..." Naelys looks at her mother, trying to understand where her passionate denial had sprouted from. "If you deny the marriage everything will fall apart, please don't let your emotions get the better of you." Rhaenyra rises from her seat, beginning to pace the room again. "You are my heir, and my only daughter! These people will strip you of all your purity and kindness, I cannot allow it." 

"As your mother, and the crowned heir to the Iron Throne, I have authority over you," Rhaenyra stands in front of Naelys, her hands cupping her daughter's cheeks lovingly. "We can find you a good, honorable man. One who can love and protect you, but that man is not your uncle." 

"I wish to do my duty, mother," Naelys says, her brown eyes welling with tears. Even as a child, she was prone to her emotions. Any strong feeling she had could reduce the girl to tears. Seeing her mother so desperate was terrifying. "My duty is to you, and I intend to do it well." 

mama nyra is the best nyra, I love her smmm 

I'm going to try to come up with a designated schedule for updates, but it may take some time.

thank you for reading!

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[aurvras]

"mmm..." devuelve como respuesta, a la vez que pétalos se tuercen en una suave mueca, mostrando que ofrecimiento no es precisamente uno que le convence. por supuesto que sólo está bromeando, que no necesita nada a cambio para librerarla de aquella rama. podía ser egoísta en ocasiones, pero no tanto como para actuar de esa forma. al menos, no con ella. retrocede un pasito cuando la nota girar sobre su eje, para permitirle la libertad de moverse sin la posibilidad de un choque ni nada similar. "no es para menos." realmente lo piensa, contraria es talentosa en lo suyo, y eso es algo que resalta a simple vista. hombros se alzan a continuación, en gesto que pone en evidencia que todo el asunto de las estrellas no es precisamente lo que más le interesa. "creo que una lluvia de estrellas no va a ser algo fácil de perder... ¿qué dices si buscamos algo de tomar y luego nos sentamos por ahí?" propone, a fin de cuentas, era el objetivo del evento. @naevli.

"¿mi eterno amor y devoción?" sugiere con la misma gracia de la blonda, obsequiándole una sonrisa. en cuanto es libre, se acomoda el vestido y se asegura de que todo permanezca en su lugar. ante comentario ajeno, da pequeño saltito en su lugar. "¡sí! ¡gracias!" sonrisa de oreja a oreja en lo que da una vuelta y le sopla un beso a la menor. "ha sido un boom, todo el mundo se me ha quedado viendo por al menos diez segundos" por supuesto, eso tranquilamente puede deberse a lo poco que el vestido cubre en sí, pero ella prefiere pensar que es porque el diseño le ha gustado a cada persona en el evento. "¿qué hacemos ahora? ¿cuánto falta para que las estrellas comiencen a caer?" lo único que falta es que se las pierda por haberse quedado atrapada en un árbol. * ♡. @aurvras.

[choerypetal]

Hide and Seek / Homelander

(pt 2. of Meet and Greet)

summary ; In part two of the meet and greet, Homelander's obsession reaches new heights, leaving him unsatisfied at his core and willing to do anything to make you his.

!! read part one first! ; !!

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes, xo' (as it will be eventually corrected if needed)

tag list; @private-eye-on-you ; @lins-shenanigans ; @horrorxgorewhore @siredtom ; @certain-tragedies ; @hotchners-wifey ; @naelis-open-sea

enjoy xo'

Homelander's comment, 'You look lovely in the costume,' lingered in your mind for a week. You couldn't escape his presence. His silhouette, his maddeningly perfect face seemed to follow you everywhere—from your usual coffee shop to the special limited editions of The Vought, and even as you continued watching the show for longer periods of time. From Deep's special cupcakes to the coffee most loved by Homelander, his influence was everywhere, not just keeping the city alive but himself as well.

Although you didn't realize it, Homelander had become just as obsessed with you as he was with seeing his own face on the cup you were holding. From a distance, he watched your every move—the way your plump lips touched the cup, how you drank your coffee, and even how you covered his image with your hand. Despite finding your behavior an offense, he knew he’d eventually have to tease about it. The sadistic man that he was, wasn’t afraid to even acknowledge it. Especially during their weekly Seven meetings. 

"So, I suggest we review some new recruits," Ashley said, her nervousness palpable. She wanted to please not only the public but, most importantly, Homelander. This was no easy task given recent events and the current situation. Homelander's obvious boredom showed his lack of interest, and Deep, poor thing, was just as disinterested, staring blankly at the screen and agreeing with whatever Homelander mumbled. However, Deep was secretly relieved not to have any of John’s powers. Especially right now. Because, at that exact moment, it was your face, and your face alone, that occupied his thoughts. Murmuring your name under his breath, he was fortunate not to get caught up in the moment. That of course, when a single cough from Ashley’s mouth was enough to slip his mind elsewhere. 

"You know, Ashley, just pick whoever you think will fit for now. Sign their papers. My brain is going to fucking explode from this hell hole," he said, standing up without even glancing at her. Not even Ashley's whiny complaints about the complications it might cause could stop him. He paused, considering for a moment that she might convince him. "Don't come to me for the next 24 hours," he snapped, his piercing blue eyes conveying a clear threat. When wasn't he a threat, anyway? "Or I'll personally fuck up every single one of you." That was enough to make her quickly nod in response. Poor thing, she only wanted to make him proud. A satisfied grin played on his lips, mirrored by Ashley's, though hers was a little more nervous. His, however, was genuine. 

You, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough not to see Homelander's face for a while. From the bookstore you frequented to the coffee shop, his presence seemed to pervade your life. Your mother didn’t help either, as she insisted on framing a picture of you with him in the living room—a gesture Homelander found endearing. On some nights, he would see you through the window, dressed in your pajamas, reading whatever caught your interest, with that picture always in the background. Unlike Homelander, it haunted your dreams.  

Deep down, Homelander struggled to resist the urge to invade your personal space, not wanting to frighten you. However, when he saw your forced smile at the meet and greet, he was reminded that a smile meant nothing to him. To him and you alone. It was your scent that drove him wild. At first, he considered going undercover, posing as one of your father’s coworkers, but he realized it would be futile. Why cover his own shame, when he could let his ego take it over?

So, he waited until sunrise. When he could finally entered your room, imagining you in your shortest pajamas, which hugged your curves so perfectly, he had to bite his bottom lip to control himself. Just by the thought of his fingers sinking into your flesh as you leaned toward him for more...

"Goodbye, Mom!" Your voice echoed in Homelander's mind as he realized he'd been lurking around your house since last night. He had been trying to dismiss, the missed call records provided by Ashley, however, unable to ignore them. Fortunately, he was hidden well enough that you didn’t notice him as you exited the house.

Your hair meticulously washed, your skin fresh with makeup, and that dress. Never in a thousand years, aside from his own enemies, did Homelander think he would become so obsessed with someone. He wanted to chuckle to himself at the irony, knowing he wasn’t being the most subtle superhero. When your gaze shifted toward his hiding spot, he quickly concealed himself behind a tree, exhaling in relief when you shrugged off the feeling of being watched. You then left for work, something Homelander knew all too well. This also meant he could meet your mother, who, after all, was his biggest fan. 

Fortunately, you managed to get through the day without a single client yelling at you. However, what you didn’t expect was an unexpected visit from the man himself. As you approached the door, you overheard some mumbling. Did your mother have a visitor today? 

And then it hit you.

Hearing the all-too-familiar voice say, "Oh, these look lovely," with a genuine smile, you froze in your tracks. Seeing your mother so happy, even more thrilled than a fangirl, like she’d seen god himself. She noticed you immediately. "My dear! Look who came to visit," she exclaimed, taking you into her arms for a hug. Before you could greet the guest, your eyes met his—Homelander, in your own home. 

"No need for theatrics, ma’am," he said with a casual chuckle, hushed by his own hand as he munched on the cookies your mother had made, casually wiping a droplet of milk with his thumb. Your mother giggled and said, "Mother is the name. We don’t have to get formal, right darling?" You blinked twice, hardly believing what you were hearing. Your mother was genuinely making Homelander feel comfortable, right inside your home. Given what you knew from your coworkers and the constant rumors, it was hard not to be creeped out by the thought that he might have done more than just a knock on the door that evening. Yet, you shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps playing the same game he did might be what he wanted after all. Like a cat and a mouse. 

There was a brief pause, then an idea sparked in your mother’s eyes as she looked at John one last time. "Why don’t you stay for dinner? Tonight is roasted chicken and mashed potatoes." How could he refuse? Spending more time with you was just the beginning of his obsession with protecting you and never letting you out of his sight. He smiled, his grin seemingly bigger than before, and nodded. "If Y/N doesn’t mind?" he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more serious expression. You gulped nervously, knowing you couldn’t just say no. "Yes—yes, of course," you stuttered. Oh, how adorable you looked.

“Then, make yourself at home dear.” 

Dinner was only just a few hours from now, with your father now back from work had asked for a personal photo with the Homelander, and a talk John appreciated more. Considering his own father exiling him completely, it was a breath of fresh air for him, especially when he’d be glancing a few times at you, doing whatever you had in mind before the dinner. “My daughter is going to be working for us,” your father would be saying proudly, Homelander could only nod listening actively. “She’d do a great addition I am certain.” his gaze now meeting yours immediately, when you gaze up from your book, he could notice a light shade of pink coming your cheeks. Cherishing it a little too much when your father’s voice then abrupt his mind, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he’d said a little too proud. 

She is indeed… Homelander thought to himself that same night. Just by how attentive he was with you. Even if it wasn’t  much of a conversation shared, the glances were enough to please him alone. Which during the dinner, he was not afraid to show. 

Dinner had passed rather quickly, you were glad it did. Considering you listening to whatever nonsense Homelander had to offer to keep your mother so relonctent toward him. Let alone, praise him as a her own god. Boosting an ego, to whom you couldn’t comprehend yourself, and that Homelander was sure to make it seem tonight. 

"Thank you so much for dinner, truly," Homelander said, wiping the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving you. Your mother’s gasp was enough to momentarily distract him, and he asked if everything was alright. She quickly assured him it was and invited him to stay until her cake was done baking. Naturally, John didn't decline the offer. "Y/N," your mother called your attention just as you were about to excuse yourself, "how about you give a little tour of the house? I'm sure Homelander would appreciate it." The formality of his name seemed daunting, but John quickly corrected her. "John it is. No need to be formal, now, do we?" A shiver crawled down your spine as your mother’s eyes gleamed with hope, her slender fingers clapping together. "Oh, well, of course! Now, Y/N, make yourself useful and make John feel at home." 

A sigh escaped your lips; there was no way to avoid this, was there? "Yes, of course. Where do you want to start?" Your eyes never left his, feeling yourself getting lost in them, becoming his little mouse to play with. "How about..." he began, his eyes wandering as if he couldn’t be bothered to think. "The bedroom," he finally said. You blinked twice, a third time to fully process his words. "What?" you replied, incredulous. He chuckled, amused by your reaction, and shrugged off the question as if he hadn’t meant it seriously. "Nah, kidding. Lead the way," he said. 

So you did. You felt his shadow hovering over you as you both walked through the house for a little tour. John was no longer hiding his presence, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his breath. By the time you reached your bedroom, the tour was complete, and your mother’s cake would be ready. However, John had something else in mind, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. “And this is the bedroom,” you said nonchalantly, hearing an obvious scoff from him. 

"Funny, isn’t it?" he said, this time his tone serious enough to make your muscles tense. His back was to you as his fingers touched the doorknob, ready to close the door. And he did, pausing momentarily. "Finally, we meet again." His remark made you tilt your head. Meet again? As far as you knew, he had been stalking you all along. But knowing who he was—Homelander, with his omniscience and twisted games—you had no say in the matter. Neither did you, especially after hearing his chuckle. 

“Now why so quiet?” the question was enough to make you unsease. You wanted to tell him, to oppose to him. But you couldn’t he was now yours to torment completely. When he leaned further, scoffing once more by your vulnerability. In that precise moment, Homelander knew he won. 

“Heard you were a good, fuck.” his voice so nonchanltly, a gasp leaving from your mouth as you were unable to speak more than standing right in front of him. How his eyes would wondered around your figure, approaching near to you, his fingers now leaning toward your waist. Gripping by its touch, hungry to fuck you there, in the bed. Raw. 

"Thank you?" you stammered, eager to please him. His grin broadened, fighting not to turn into a frown at your response. He was so satisfied that he gently caressed your cheek with his other finger. "You need me, not just to save you, but to satisfy you." Though your heart was broken, you were a toy Homelander cherished without fear. You were his perfect little toy, as he began to lick his bottom lip, his breath drawing closer, closing the gap between you. "Mine," he growled, his voice hoarse, undeniably hinting at his intentions. He was Homelander, able to do whatever he wanted. And that included you being his. "Got it, little mouse?"

Oh, how he longed to watch you squirm between his legs, begging for more, moaning his name. His persistence knew no bounds; he would do anything—from leaving bite marks to scratches, and even hickeys if necessary. But he couldn't just stand there without having a little fun, right?

"You see," he said, his voice dripping with teasing malice. Disgust welled up in your mouth, but you fought the urge to look away. He loved watching you squirm, the fear in your eyes fueling his twisted envy of every inch of you. "How about we play a little game tonight, hmm?" His thumb brushed gently over your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

"W-what game?" you managed to say, breaking your long silence. Even he was momentarily surprised, but your stutter made it worth it. "Hide and seek," he said, pausing for effect. "You hide, and I seek. If I find you, you're mine. Got that?"

You gave a quick nod, followed by a satisfied smile from him. "Good then, I'll start counting. One, two..." You hesitated for a moment, just as his grip shifted from your waist to your arm, preventing you from fleeing your own home. When your eyes met his, they were dark with passion, lust, and a desire to capture his little mouse until its very last breath. "Run..."

Little mouse.”

[edea-rpg]

No es un final, es un continuará...

[alastors-radioshow]

Who knows Alastor best?

“Quite impressive, considering the fact that I do not know you, but you seem to know a great deal about me~ I am not certain if I should be concerned, or not~”

@naelys-the-aster​