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angrelysimpping · 6 months ago

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Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm.

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others.

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark.

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks.

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark.

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks.

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks.

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you?

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs.

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse.

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria.

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark.

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out?

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you.

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand.

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting.

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action.

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you.

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax.

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar.

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you.

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise.

Doren

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist.

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable.

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw.

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped.

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what.

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers.

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine.

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all.

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it.

Also not big on touching your marks, either.

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times.

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks.

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital.

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching.

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow.

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks.

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks.

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark.

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play.

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck.

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school.

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke.

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe.

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist.

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern.

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake.

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks.

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker.

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks.

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest.

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement.

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

Sydney

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips.

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks.

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh.

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks.

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone.

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public.

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark.

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed.

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's.

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily.

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks.

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home.

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time.

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely.

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity:

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity:

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery

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bbr0wni3 · 4 months ago

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Melting like gold.

(One shot)

♡ -> Legolas x reader

-> Content & warnings: female reader, fluff, love confession, Thranduil and Tauriel's scene reference, narrated in 2nd person.

Summary: After a harsh "supposedly" private conversation with Thranduil, you seem to not handle the strong emotions well, letting you burst on tears and run deep into the forest..

-> word count: 1.8k

-> (a/n): hii, this is the first time Im going to upload one of my silly fanfics on tumblr ^^ I recently finished the lord of the rings and the hobbit trilogy so what's better than a one shot of the pretty elf ;)

Sorry in advance if there are some misspelled words/grammar/phrases,etc. English is not my first language!!

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The sound of your heels hitting the floor echoes along the halls of Mirkwood, your hair swings and the sun hits your face as soon as you head through the garden to get to the other side of the palace, and to Thranduil's chamber.

You were informed that he wanted to speak with you privately.

You stand outside the door for a moment, taking a deep breath and knocking three times on the long and white glass door.

"Come on in" is heard from inside the room.

Stepping inside, you see Thranduil standing from a distance with his arms behind his back, walking slowly in circles around the room. Your eyes meet his, and you keep your lips separated for a moment before you speak out loud.

"My lord, I must apologize, the spider nest failed to be destroyed, we were able to clear the forest as ordered, but more spiders kept coming up from the south, they are spawning near the ruins of Dol Guldur, we were soon outnumbered, but it was my task to accomplish and i-"

As you mouth non-stop your concern to the king, he eases your chatter.

"That is not the term I wanted to discuss." He stops his walking and turns his body to face you. There's a pause as he makes direct eye contact and starts walking towards the giant window where he has the most stunning view of not only Mirkwood but beyond the lake and the shape of mountains. You now follow his steps so you're both focused on the view, the silence breaks.

"Legolas said you fought well today" Thranduil began to speak. Your gaze falls to the ground as you try to hide the slight smirk that appears on your face. Locking in your expressions, you face the window again.

"He's grown very fond of you." He continues to speak. Your eyes are wide open now, trying to glance at Thranduil's face, as also avoiding eye contact, to maybe catch a glimpse of how he feels about these sudden words he's sharing with you.

"I assure you, my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a captain in the guard." You speak while you are once again looking out the window. Your heart breaking in your own hands, set on fire, and shattered like glass.

As much as you wish to believe that what you're saying was a lie, you're only being truthful when you wish you wasn't.

"Perhaps he did once, now I'm not so sure" Thranduil responded while taking a place behind you, his words echoing in your mind, you can't believe that that's the way he thinks about Legolas and you.

"I-i do not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly silvan elf like me." You close your eyes, every word that you pronounce feeling like you're being stabbed with a sword. Your own sword of dilusion, as you dream of hearing Thranduil deny your response, but he does not.

"You're right, I would not. Still, he cares about you. You do not give him hope where there is not." His harsh demeanor and cold tone completely finishes to sink your heart beyond measure. As you slowly open your eyes again, you can almost feel how they burn as you fight back tears.

"Of course, my lord." Is all you get to say, straightening up and swallowing your pain.

"Let it pass, let it pass, don't cry now " you repeat over and over inside your head.

"Alright, you can go now" His words now a key that unlocks you from this cage, you bite your lip and just nod, walking towards the door where you came from.

As soon as you step outside, a single tear goes down your cheek, and you quickly wipe it off as you only want to get out of there, you escape so fast you don't even realize Legolas was hiding beside the door this whole time, hearing all and watching how your tears began to stream down your face.

His eyes open, and his lips separate, almost mouthing something, but he does not, he only watches you leave.

"How can i stand here and do nothing?!" He thinks to himself, questioning his behavior and angry at himself but mostly angry with his father for making you cry, for making you think there wasn't any other path but to never try and fall out of love.."love" he though for a moment, that's what he feels for you.

He grabs his bow and places it behind his back. He runs across the palace and heads to the gates.

"Open the gates!" Legolas yells at the elven guards that secure the entrance.

"As you order my prince." one of the two guards said, as they see their prince so desperate to go out for some reason.

The gates open, and he heads to the bridge and into the forest. He knows his father is watching from above the tower, through his window, and for sure judging his own son. But Legolas doesn't care enough, not even a command from the king would stop him from going out and looking for you, even if he had to cross mountains or fight a thousand orcs to get to you, believe me, he would.

However, that won't happen now because he knows exactly where you are.

He knows exactly the place your heart seeks the most when your day doesn't go as you expect, because you know you'll always find him there, only a place the two of you know and always kept a secret, it's your place.

"Across the lake and behind the trees, promise me you'll look for me, and this would be our secret place. " Your voice in Legolas' memories came back to him as he kept pacing through the forest, a sweet promise under the stars. That night, he knew what love was meant to feel like, that night and many others, where he kept this promise of being there for each other.

And you were there, as Legolas predicted. Your back laying on a big mossy rock, your hair shining through the last remaining light of the sunset, your eyes closed as you felt the breeze of the approaching night coming in, the one that blew dry the tears that were still falling from your beautiful eyes.

Legolas tried to be as quiet as possible as he wants to give you this moment of silence before he speaks, he fails to do so when he steps on a branch that even made the birds from the trees fly away.

Alerted you grab your bow, turning your whole body to face the unknown danger, pointing towards the sound, ready to shoot. Only for Legolas to meet with your face full of tears while you meet his sapphire eyes, the ones that you die for, the ones that are now painted with worriedness.

You lower your bow and stand up in front of him. You want to run to his arms and melt like gold in his embrace, but the words of Thranduil resonate in your head "you do not give him hope where there is not."

The blonde elven man starts to step closer to you, your heart beating so fast that you wouldn't be surprised if it got out from your chest, you're sure that if he extends his arm he can feel it pounding, and that's how closer he stood from you.

Another tear falls from your eyes, you turn your face to the right to try and hide it, but he already saw it, and soon I know I would miss the blue if his eyes.

"I heard your conversation with my father." He confesses. You close your eyes to let a second tear fall, and choose to look at him again.

"Then you should not be here." The words scrape your throat. The resistance that lies upon them is a chain forged by Thranduil for you to grab on while leaving marks on your hands by doing so. You search his face focusing on his eyes, trying to see if you can find a way for him to notice that your words are only a mirror of Thranduil demands, and not what you actually want to say.

"But I choose to be here, with you" He steps even closer, you take a small step back even if you don't want to, but he does want to feel you close so he grabs your wrist with his right hand and pulls you closer, and for a few inches you notice that he is now even closer than before.

"Please legolas, you're making it harder for me to-" your words almost coming out as a whisper, a sigh.

"To what? To finally correspond my feelings?. I choose to be here for a reason." He insisted. His thumb took a place on your cheek, caressing the wetness from your old tears and preventing a third one from falling. You close your eyes at his touch, warm and soft.

Your body surrenders and calls for this warmness, you place your hand on top of his, you cannot play as if you didn't want to he like this forever, you crave his touch more than anything else, and by the way your face leans towards his hand he knows you do.

"You've heard what your father said. He would never allow us to be together, not like this." You open your eyes, his eyes pierced on your face, he looks bewitched, enchanted by your beauty, by having you so close, a way he had dreamed of many times.

In that moment you realize he kept his promise, he came looking for you and now is holding you with such love and desire.

"I don't care what my father allows or wants, not even a little bit, for as I already know what i want, what my heart wants. I would never, not even in a thousand elven years not choose to love you, and i cannot think of a lifetime without you, so please...please"

There's a small pause as he tries to catch his breath from speaking so quickly, you decide to take it away from him one last time as you lean to kiss him, finally breaking the chain that kept you longing for this reciprocated love.

You let your whole body be held by him, his hands on your waist and your arms around his neck. His long hair twirled around your fingers and also tickling your cheeks, which are now fully dried, because he took the time that nobody else would've taken to stop this storm that clouded your thoughts and drowned your eyes.

He came as the sun and gifted you a rainbow.

You both separate your lips and let yourself breathe against each other, your foreheads touching and the tip of your noses brushing on one another. You both let a breathy laugh as you share a strong hug.

It seems like the same stars that crowded the sky that one promising and memorial night are above you both again, shining again under another lovely promise.

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading! <3

#legolas greenleaf #legolas greenleaf x reader #lord of the rings #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #thranduil #legolas x reader #fanfiction #legolas one shot #legolas x you #x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fandom #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fanfiction

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yawarakaizai · 1 year ago

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I LOVE YOUR AESTHETIC SM!!

i was thinking..

gn doll reader with nikolai.. i feel like he’s obsessed with dolls (bj dolls/porcelain dolls) he’d treat you delicately and.. ahh.. i need HIM. CARNALLY.

ⵌ THIS LITTLE WORLD IS YOURS TONIGHT

SENDER Doll ! Reader (GN) RECIPITENT Nikolai Gogol (BSD) CONTENTS He took the utmost care of you, treating you how he believed you should be treated. He loved every part of you, and that included your feisty temper, even when he was so nice and caring towards you. NOTE bratty reader, pet-names, usage of 'daddy', possessiveness, suggestive content, genitalia mentioned (or rather lack thereof), mentions of fyodor + sigma, size difference, reader is a ball-jointed doll, non-sexual nudity, rich nikolai lolol, spoiled reader, mentions of punishments/implied punishments (spanking), feminine clothing (dresses) COMPANY Smarty

A/N hii ano n! tys m f or your req (>///<) nikolai is one of m y fav es actu al ly, , hes s o swe et , craz y and aa aa a <3 i hop e you enjoy this small fic! !! it was f un t o write ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ i th iink nikolai would be s o silly w/ a re ader who' s a dol l !! he'd p air well w ith a br att y doll .. s o here 's th is !! \(^///^)/

" Noo! I don't wanna! "

Your whine was met with an exaggerated sigh of mock-sadness.

" Oh, but please! You'll look utterly adorable in this! "

One thing about you was that once your mind was made up, there was no way of convincing you otherwise. It was always your way. At least .. usually.

" Don't wanna means I don't wanna. "

You stood in the middle of the room nude, your hands placed on your hips, your head turned to the side away from the man knelt on the floor before you with his pleading eyes, a white gown bunched up in his hands.

Stubborn is what you were. And goodness, did Nikolai not love and hate it at the same time.

You were his sweet, spoiled doll. He wouldn't want it any other way.

" Ya know I love you best when you're behaved, doll. " He was dumb to think you'd relent your attitude so easily. Nikolai was being soft today, thankfully. On a hard day, he would've had you crying out bent over his knee promising to be a good doll next time.

Peeking from your shut eyes, your glass eyes stared curiously and intently on the dress he insisted to hell and back you should try out.

Frilly, short and virgin white - like every other garment he'd buy for you.

You most certainly are appreciative to have such a generous daddy. One who'd adorn you in only the best of dresses and accessories, showing you off to all who'd have the misfortune of coming across Nikolai.

He'd boast about how lucky he is to have you, with you shyly hiding behind his large stature, your fist gripping onto the hems of his shirt for your own comfort. You were timid around others that weren't your daddy. You'd shrink at compliments from others and cling to Nikolai; afraid to lose him.

Nikolai adored you for how bold you were with him. No matter the façade of a pure, innocent angel you'd display to all - he knew just what you were in private.

" Fine. But only this dress. Otherwise, I'll go straight to Dostoy and tell on you! "

" Yes! Yes, oh, how sweet you are! "

Standing up to his feet, he immediately began to tie the matching garter to your porcelain thigh, tightening it enough to ensure it wouldn't slip off.

" You'll look beautiful. I could not rid the thought of you wearing it from my mind. " He rambled on, guiding your head through the many frills of the dress, pulling your arms into the sleeves and smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric.

You found it to be too short, as you'd find when you'd spin around the dress would ride up with the air and thus exposing the area humans considered intimate.

Although you possessed no genitals, Nikolai still found your body erotic.

" It's too short. " You'd protest, to which he'd reply, " It's perfect. "

It could be said Nikolai found you aesthetically pleasing to look at, as many would come to agree. Even Dostoy - as you'd call him - began to take a keen interest in you, requesting for your co-operation in being his muse for a while.

He had painted a lovely portrait of you. One you kept in an expensive gold frame, hung over your prized vanity table.

You did not pry too much into your daddy's life, and that included his relations with Dostoy. All you knew was that Dostoy was above the other, and the two had mutual respect for one another.

" Can you sit still for me, doll? Need't put these on ya. "

Nikolai rummaged through the many shopping bags he had hauled into your room, not expecting to have caught you during your brattish hours.

Nodding in silence, you allowed him to clip bows and pearls to your soft hair, having to kneel down to properly align everything perfectly and just the way he wanted them to be.

By the time he was done, you could feel the weight on your head having increased from how over-the-top he had gone.

" Daddy.. "

You huffed, puckering your red lips childishly.

" You look elegant, I promise you. "

Placing his hand on the lower end of your back, he carefully guided you towards your full-body mirror hanging adjacent from your large wardrobe.

Studying your reflection, you stared up at his grinning face. " You look dumb. " You remarked, continuing to twist and twirl. It wasn't that bad.

" I knew it'd be perfect, " He creeped behind you, wrapping his arms around your hips with his head resting atop of yours, " ya gonna thank your daddy for bein' so kind and sweet, aren't ya doll? " He murmured, lightly letting some of his heavy weight loosen on you, immediately making you yell out to him.

" Hey! Watch it! Daddy! Too heavy! "

You did your best to support him as he only laughed over you, " Catch me, catch me, doll! " he joked around, threatening to faint at any second, soaking in your desperate attempts at hoisting him back up.

In one fell swoop, he swept you off your feet over his shoulder, in the process, accidentally letting a stray bow come undone, falling to the floor below.

" Gonna go parade ya to Sigma. "

He praised, hand straying up your skirt and onto your bottom, in response you immediately whacked his back, stifling an "ow!" as your delicate hand forgot how tough he was, especially his upper body.

" Think he'll get mad when he realises I spent his money on all this? "

" Daddy! "

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3 it s 4am . ... @.@

#bsd x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd nikolai #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd imagines

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neetily · 4 months ago

Text

Soft And Plush — (DOL) Whitney [VALENTINES EVENT]

— ✧ warnings: name calling (whore slut pet mutt pup puppy), Name-Calling, pillow humping (its a bear), pillow humping, Pet Play, Cigarette Smoking, Praise, non consensual photo taking, blowjob, I use the word fap because it’s sexy to me, Bullying, Degradation, Oral Fixation, Dacryphilia — ✧ word count: 5,435

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

rritation settles thick in his arms, most present in how they flex under rolled up sleeves, how his veins pop from the crossed over position he’s got them in at just the mere sight of his favourite slut. Where he’s still mostly dressed save for an unbutton shirt, he’s got you completely naked, barking orders at you to strip the moment he allowed you entry into his room. So obedient , aren’t you? Even if a little shy, your attempts at coyness only make this game much more fun for him. Got him aching to knock you down a peg or two, remind you of who you belong to. So small compared to him too, yeah? Just a weak little pet, cowering at his feet like you should be . He’s annoyed in part due to how you’ve completely ruined his valentines plans for you today, and also from how downright adorable you look sitting on his floor with a new stuffed teddy hiding your pretty private parts out of sight, a reminder of his failure today. How unfair it is for you to have put him in this position, perched at the edge of his bed looking down at you as if he were holier than thou; and right now he is.

“Fuckin’ slut, wanted the bear so bad, the fuck are you complaining for?” He scowls down at you with jealousy, unable to hide the impish smirk from spreading to his cheeks that your stupid sobs causes him to make. Really, it’s your own damn fault that you’re sitting naked in his bedroom right onw, shivering against the hardwood floor as his harsh tone threatens tears to well in your pretty doe eyes. Good , he thinks to himself. You’re pretty when you cry . It’s why he so often has you in these embarrassing positions, intimidating you to submit with his bullying tactics day in and day out. It’s because you’re so cute , too adorable for your own good. It’s your fault he repeats to himself, some effort to justify his rude actions.

He tuts down at you when all you do is clutch the teddy tighter, keeping it pinned to your pretty body in an effort to remain hidden from his lecherous gaze, so he leans forward. You didn’t think you’d get to escape his torment for long, did you? His dominating presence causing you to quiver, a similar shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine as his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek in impatience. You’re so cute it’s becoming a fucking issue, obliviously provoking him into petting at the overt bulge in his pants like you were any form of innocent. Of course he knows you better than that, but even the faux purity you display before him has him acting up, pants tighter than ever just from looking at you. Honestly , the things he wants to do to you are criminal. And all because you’re just too cute, shaking and shiver and panting against the soft fur of the oversized bear that you stole out of his hands at the store.

Or, well, stole is a gross exaggeration of what really happened. He knows he shouldn’t have left buying a valentines gift this late, and he should have known better than to go to the same store you frequent so often. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing him for being such a shitty boyfriend, or , as he’d rather think; this is his reward for showing you a sliver of kindness. Even just recalling the moment his head lifted and he was greeted by your meek expression causes his eye to twitch, his lips curling in sheer displeasure for not only getting caught slacking; but also from having his gift stolen . It’s a cute bear, fuck , he wants it for himself—he even has the perfect spot in his collection for it!—yet there you stood attempting to buy him it. How annoying. How fucking aggravating it is to have you know him so well, a familiar heat rising to his cheeks that he so often endures when you’re around him; only he can’t tell if it’s from upset or affection. They feel all too similar to him, especially when his cock is concerned.

“It’s my gift, pet.” He reminds you oh so kindly, clicking his tongue for emphasis. And it’s true, he’d allowed you to buy the bear yourself since you clearly wanted to gift him with it. “So I get to decide what to do with it, right?”

“Um, yeah… I guess so…” You trail off stupidly, and all he wants to do in response is pin you where you sit due to an overwhelming urge to remind you . Force you to accept who’s really in charge, to praise you for picking such a good gift for him, to punish you for ruining his valentines plans; fuck — he’s so agitated. It’s embarrassing, really, just how much you affect him. How easy you’ve got it, dumb tone going straight to his perverted cock, causing it to pulse under his idle touch as he stares you down, biting down on his bottom lip to refrain from praising you too much; can’t let you know so easily just how badly he wants to fuck you stupid. But that’s what good pets get, right? He just has to work you up to it, see if you really deserve some more kindness.

But first, punishment. Can’t forget about the way you stole his thunder from right under him, no matter how hard his cock throbs for your pitiful excuses and pretty face. No good owner lets bad actions go unpunished, right? Hand tugging lightly at his pants, right over the obvious wet spot he’s sporting, he leans back to show exactly what you do to him, to tease you under the guise of offering more than punishment, cursing under his breath when your expression switches to one of awe. That dumb look you always adopt when it comes to him, he wants for nothing more than to wipe it off your face again and again, deriving great pleasure from putting you down. Perhaps a little too much if he’s honest with himself, but when you offer your compliance on a silver platter, what’s a guy to do? After all, he is just a man. A dirty, mean, perverted man.

“Right.” He confirms your earlier ‘guess’, offering you a much more gentle smile now as his hand reaches out toward you, suppressing the urge to laugh at how pathetic you look when tentatively placing your hand in his own like an unsure animal; he’s sure if you had a tail it’d be curled between your legs right now. And for good reason, “I wanna see you ride it.” He huffs, forcefully tugging you forward so that you fall tummy side down on the big bear, your ass sticking up in the air for him to immediately admire; cock twitching in response to the cute little oof you let out after falling down. That’s what you get for trusting him, he muses to himself. “You’re a good girl, right?” He coos down at you, tone faux sweet and sickening , mismatching his sleazy lopsided grin knowing that he’s embarrassing you right now, tricked you into giving him exactly what he wants in spite of your endeavour to remain modest. It’s what you get for being such a meddling whore .

He doesn’t exactly hear you agree, but that’s never stopped him before. A soft mmph is enough for him, cock pressing persistently against his underwear when he catches sight of the dip in your back, how despite your obvious humiliation he just knows your pretty pet cunt must be leaking all over the teddy bear by now, having endured his gaze and taunts until now. “Good girl,” he praises your acceptance, voice barely above a whisper to hide just how much he loves it when you give in to him, tapping his toes under your chin to prompt you into looking up at him pawing at his cock. “Wanna ride my gift? Bet it’d feel soooo good, perfect for puppies.” He sneers down at you, hiding his affection behind a low laugh until you slowly start to rock against the teddy, just like he’d asked. It’s a barely there movement, but he catches it nonetheless, glued to your ass while you focus on his face. Actively ignoring your whimpers of discomfort in favour of gawking, tugging at his cock more intently now that you’re playing into his palm. He didn’t think it’d be so easy to convince you to objectify yourself like this, but maybe all the dirty talk he whispered down your ear as he dragged you to his home was enough to set the mood. Talking about you’re mine, my fucking girl, my little play slut, wanna have a playdate, pup? He doesn’t really care about the specifics right now anyway, sucking his teeth to the sight of your hips shifting back and forth, the way your mouth hangs open just a little , pink tongue peeking behind your teeth as you pant below him. Yeah, he’s got more important matters to attend to right now, like his raging hard on that stains his pants sheer, and how he wants to shove it against your cheeks.

So fucking cute, fuck — he wants to praise you some more, grab your stupid fucking face and press kisses all over it, tug at your hair so he has access to your neck, bite and suck on the soft skin there to properly mark his pup up. A permanent collar to signal ownership, keep all those other creeps off of you. But all he feels able to do is swallow . Gulp down the admiration that rests behind at the tip of his tongue in favour of putting you in your rightful place: under his feet.

He tries to commit your dumb look to memory, cock twitching with want to be buried balls deep down your slutty throat already, especially given the way you so expertly showcase your mouth to him, his feet glued to either side of the teddy to better watch you hump yourself against it—and he’s got the perfect view too. Eyes trailing all the way from your pouty lips, past your arched back, to finally settle on the swell of your ass. “ Pretty… ” he accidentally whispers, instantly flushing at how soft his tone has gotten around you.

Habit begs him to light a cigarette for distraction, swiftly procuring one from his pocket with his free hand to mouth at lazily before lighting it and taking a deep inhale. Time and time again you prove to be difficult around for him; not because you’re inherently stressful or anything, but because his heart physically aches to be with you, even as your humping his valentines gift right in front of him under his instruction. An instinctive need to watch over you, to both protect and bully you from his position as your boyfriend. It’s annoying, honestly, how deeply he yearns for you. So much so that even as you’re doing everything his mean words ask for, he still craves more from his perfect little pet. It’s unfair of him to expect, he knows, but you can hardly blame him when you’re being so pliant and sweet for him. He hears you say something over his heavy breathing, but he’s much more interested in talking to your tits, rubbing his cock to the way they push up nicely against the plush teddy with the rest of your body as you seek his attention.

“Whitney…” You whine all pretty and shit, and oh how gratifying it is to hear you sound so needy for him, so desperate for his rough treatment over the soft fur under you. “This is… really embarrassing…”

He takes another inhale, a greedy one full of lust. “Duh, that’s the point.” He huffs after a second to exhale, puffing away at his cigarette far too quickly, ash dropping to the ground that he’ll have you clean up later. “Keep movin’.” He sniffs, impulsively throwing the cigarette to the ground to stamp on, far too hypnotised by the easy back and forth of your hips to fully enjoy the smoke filling his lungs, cock leaking far too much not to pull it out of his pants. Convinced by the muted squelch of your cunt every time your hips rise, he stands up briefly to tug his bottoms down just below his knees, swiftly sitting down again and immediately spreading his legs with a satisfied sigh. Feels good to finally be free, hard cock on full display for your pitiful whines, fat beads of precum already rolling down his length for his fist to collect. Such a good girl, making him feel so good; and you don’t even have to be touching him! He’d tell you but the words are choked in his throat when your speed increases, assumedly from his now exposed cock, his head tilting to the side when you crane your neck up further in an attempt to reach his wet tip, puffy lips just begging to be fucked raw—

“Uh-uh, get back down.” He reprimands you even as it pains him to do so, placing a foot on your shoulder to pin you back to the floor, laughing darkly when you squirm in place on the bear. Dumb dog , he thinks to himself. “Pets aren’t allowed on the bed.”

“But Whitney —“

His eyes roll automatically, fist casually pumping up and down his fat cock to the sight of you whinging so sweetly for him. And God , he almost gives in. Wants to fuck your stupid mutt throat all sore, soothe it with a load in your tummy. There’s a flicker of greed in his core, fist tightening around his swollen cock for a moment before he sighs, deep and heady. The things you do to him; you’ve got to know . “But nothin’ ” he bites back, baring his teeth in a show of dominance, hips bucking into his closed fist when you immediately surrender by dropping your head—hidden praise. “Said I wanted to watch you, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

At least that seems to shut you up for now, cock happy to watch you return to humping, sweaty palm gliding easily over his wet tip from how downright desperate you act for his cock, heart full of affection at the way you vie for his attention, his approval. To call what he’s experiencing love rests uncomfortably in his chest, instead focusing intently on the mess of your hair, pressing his thumb against his slit to coax more pre out. You have him so hard, cock throbbing in his quickly tightening grip as he jerks off to the sight of you, just out of reach of your cute face, teasing you with tell tale slick sounds and soon hushed gasps of enjoyment.

“ That’s it — fuck, good girl.” He half laughs in the space left between, gaze drawn to your open mouth and the way your tongue threatens to loll out. Fuck , he hopes it does. Leaking all over himself at just the thought of your tongue, wishing that you’d drool all over the teddy bear you’re currently humping so that he can drag his tongue over it when he kicks you out tonight. “Feels good, right?” He asks, but it’s barely a question. He can hear how much you’re enjoying yourself, can smell how turned on you are from getting bullied. Honestly, he feels a bit dizzy with desire for you too. Struggling just as much as you seem to be right now, fisting his fat cock in time with your speedy humps; punishment. This is supposed to be punishment for you, and yet still he feels like he’s the one gasping for air when you moan so nicely for him, his muscles burning with insatiable thirst.

With every stroke his legs open wider too, pants dropping lower with his thrusts until they hit the floor and the resulting thud barely hides the obvious rhythmic wet slap of fist on cock. You just look so good like this, pressing your puffy little clit into the soft teddy bear, head tilted up to stare right between his legs, panting lewdly for his cock— it’s a bit too much even for him. An uncharacteristic stutter in his voice when he tries to tell you off , but his words end up sounding more like a plead than anything else, which is wholly unacceptable, except for when he’s alone with you.

“Don’t… Uh, fuck — don’t fucking look at me.” He warns you, squeezing at the base of his cock to hold off on cumming so he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of his pet. And to make sure you follow his instructions, he lifts a foot only to drop it on your head, forcing you to bury your face into the chest of the bear below you, immediately relaxing his expression as he leans into his fist now that his love is hidden from view. One hand supporting his weight behind, the other fucking himself stupid to the sight of your perfect ass pretending to be riding his cock— he knows you all too well. Instinctively, his hips start to follow after his fist faster, timing his thrusts into his closed palm with your humps forward, in turn simulating sex with you too. And fuck it feels good , to be in complete control of your actions and still making you wait, pushing you closer to the edge as you start to shake with your frantic movements, the muffles sobs you sound against the bear only prompting his hips to fuck faster into the air, his bed squeaking under the weight of his greedy thrusts all for you . Can’t let you see him get this hopeless for you, hiding his affections with choked gasps and muted sighs, refusing even with your face hidden to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he needs you . How he wants even though he has you quite literally under his foot, wants you so bad even as his cock drools to the floor for your pretty little ass and the sweet sounds you make for him, a puddle forming under him thanks to you and your body.

It’s how he knows you’re so close, you know. The way you tremble . He’s felt it enough times on his cock to pick up on it, a sinister smile making its way to his lips as he selfishly removes his foot from your head, though it quickly transitions into a fond scowl when you remain buried; it seems his training is finally paying off with you, working against him when he’d really rather see your cumming face. “Dumb pup— does that feel good on your puppy parts?” he encourages you, tone sugary and soft due to how much pride he feels swell in his chest when you do exactly as you’re told, awaiting his command to look at him again. Watching his pretty pet hump herself silly on his gift , pumping away at his cock with sloppy strokes while he stares intensely at your nape; fingers itching to grab you by the scruff of the neck and shove his cock so far down your throat—

This is love, he suddenly thinks. Pretty puppy at his feet, getting yourself off for his enjoyment. This , fist wrapped tight around his pulsing cock, jaw taut and hips bucking up off the bed for better friction, is love. The barely audible moans of his name falling from your pretty lips and the soft shuffle of your cunt against the bears fur is love. And maybe it’s time for him to admit on valentines day that he himself is very much in love with you.

Or maybe that’s just his cock talking for him, trembling in his death-grip hold, fisting only his tip to stave off your reward as you surprisingly sit up despite his previous private praise, hands firmly planted on the bears face to support your weight; but most importantly, your hips don’t stop. No, all you do is offer him a best seat in the house view of your bouncing tits while you ride the bear, prompting him to suck in some air as his eyes narrow in on your nipples, throat suddenly dry as he pines to mouth at them. He can reprimand you properly for acting out later. “Filthy bitch .” He scolds you for now, but it’s a halfhearted attempt at best, teeth bearing to accentuate his adoration filled threat. “Just a dumb bitch in heat, yeah? Need cock so bad, huh?” He taunts you, but it’s all bark and no bite. Really, he’s just admitting to what he wants you to want, hoping that you’ll give in to his lust fuelled upset with broken sobs and eager nods.

Which of course you do, because he’s a good owner that’s trained his perfect pet well. A coo escapes him when you frantically nod up at him, doggy tongue sticking out while you pant for more. And he’s more than happy to give you just that, now that you’ve endured partial punishment; he’s just as much a desperate dog as you are right now. Only difference is, he has the (swiftly declining) composure to keep his true intentions hidden enough— and you’re just a dumb dog . If you want his cock so bad, he’ll give it to you. After such a good performance too, it only makes sense to reward your good behaviour with some cock; that and it’ll replace the gift you stole from him and are currently grinding into the ground like a good girl.

God you’re so cute like this, holding yourself up while circling your hips, stroking that pretty little clit hard against the big round heart the bear is holding. He bets it’s soaked with your slick, his throat closing at the mere thought of sucking it all up later tonight. His lips part in awe, infatuated at the sight of you so desperate for release, keening loudly with a repeat of his name, rocking yourself forward with every thrust because of how much you need him. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.” Slips out of his open lips, though he does little to correct himself. Instead, he leans into the soft nature of his words and finds his phone, immediately opening the camera to snap a few pictures of you in your time of great need. Jerk off material for later , his friends can fuck off if they think he’ll send them such prime material. Only he gets to see you this sloppy and messy, so fraught with need for more and all for him. He doubts you even realise he’s captured your degeneracy with photographic evidence given how you paw at his knees anyway, head hung low as you hold on for some sense of stability; of which he cruelly takes away from you the moment he realises what you’re doing.

“Tryin’ t’climb on top?” He questions, but his voice is breathy and gives away just how much he needs you to do exactly that. “ C’mon , you should know better than— fuck— ” your hand brushes his cock, right over his slick with precum tip, a string of shine keeping your palm connected to him even when he forcefully retracts your hand. He immediately wants to lick it when he spots it, clean his pretty puppy up and treat her well. But the pit in his stomach demands otherwise, tapping on your shoulder to grab your attention and tugging you as close as possible between his legs.

Prime blowjob position.

“Should know better than that, slut…” Able to finish his previous sentence, he takes a rough fistful of your hair now that you’re prone and yanks it back, cock twitching to attention when you yelp in surprise. Always so pretty for him, so eager to have his mean hands bully your body, he doesn’t miss the way your thighs squeeze around the bears heart with his unfair grip. Your constant stream of pleaseplease Whtiney please! causes him to release an egregious moan of his own, pulling your head further back as payment for coaxing such a needy sound out of him.

He’s not all mean though. Ever the gentleman, he thrusts his cock against your face, smearing precum all over your blushing cheeks and tapping the leaking tip on your lips. God he could cum just like this, tugging at his cock once or twice against your lips before you automatically open, like you understand what you’re made for, that you belong to him. So cute , so completely and utterly disgusting that you already know what he wants before he even asks for it. The perfect valentine.

He makes tutting sounds at you with a wide grin, doting on you from above until your tongue makes contact with his tip and it’s all over for him. Grin wiped and replaced by a frown, brows furrowed in concentration to fully feel the way your slippery tongue sucks all the precum off his tip, how your lips tighten and glide up and down his cock just a little , his hand still buried deep in your hair to control the pace. Still, good girl and so pretty continues to drip from his tongue, drool pooling in his mouth when he’s unable to look away from where your lips kiss his tip, how you worship his cock in an effort to gain his affections.

"Want me to pound that pretty throat?" He questions, but it’s rhetorical. Of course you do, right? Why else would you be inviting him inside so eagerly.

But he’s not so kind as to give you exactly what you want, no! He never has been, has he? Instead of fucking your throat like he wants to, he merely keeps your head pinned in place, tip and then some engulfed by your warm mouth for you to suckle on, to have a small taste and no more. And to make matters worse for you, he starts fisting his cock again. Warming his tip while jacking off into your mouth, not even allowing you the pleasure of getting him off yourself. The cruelty of his actions causes you to whine and vibrate down his length, proving only to turn him on further as his grip tightens in your hair. A warning of sorts, to shut up and take what he’s giving you because it’s better than the alternative of nothing at all. He knows he’s being a bastard, fuck , but it feels too good to stop; pumping his length with precision into your greedy little maw, feeling your tongue squirm and beg to be used, attempting to convince his hips to buck and fuck your face, but it feels too fucking good to stop bullying you .

It’s your fault for being so cute, he reminds himself. Your fucking fault, slut , he wants to lecture you with, but every suck and lick you offer him leaves him breathless. Staring down at your watery eyes with a mimicked pout of his own, which would have be paired with mockery over how slutty you’re being right now, but the way his balls grow tight and taut otherwise distracts him, leaves him gasping for air due to your kitten licks against his tip, rendering him only to moan roughly and roll his eyes back in sheer satisfaction over your resentment. “Keep— ah, shit — keep movin’, mutt.” He reminds you through clenched teeth, lightly kicking your cunt as a reminder to get yourself off too; he’s not mean enough to leave you without feeling good too.

Or rather, he’s more selfish than you might think. Wanting only for you to cum too so that he can enjoy his orgasm more, knowing that even after all his mistreatment of you, you still require him to make you feel good. And after squeezing his eyes shut briefly to focus on anything other than cumming on your soft kitten tongue, he opens them to see you humping feverishly, as if you didn’t know how to do anything else in that moment. Upset immediately fills his chest, though he’s not sure why. Something about feeling so frustrated over how much he feels for you, how strongly he wants for you. But he’s not of the right head-space to properly think about it right now, too busy fucking his fist to have an honest discussion with himself. Whatever, you’re fucking hot and that’s all that matters, fuck , he’s so close. Needs you to cum too, an act of reassurance, of security. If you cum then surely he’s doing something right, treating you the way you want to be treated, right? “That’s it,” he motivates you through moans, grunting into the harsh way he fists his cock, a stark contrast to how politely your tongue wraps around his cock head. Precum beads onto it, surely dipping down your throat from how you ‘ sneakily ’ bob your head with some humping movements, but he’s concerned enough to correct you. Not when you have him feeling so fucking good, fapping furiously against your lips because you offer him no other alternative.

An urgent mmph! is sent down his cock when he tugs on your hair again, followed by a string of something , he can’t fucking hear you with a fat cock stuffing your mouth full, but he can probably guess what you’re moaning.

“Yeah? Fuck , babe…” He trails off, holding your chin to drag it open in a selfish need to hear you whine properly for him as you cum on the teddy bear, and also because he wants to watch his cum splatter your tongue possessively. It’s when you’re at your cutest, he thinks, waiting for his seed. Fisting his cock obsessively for you as his orgasm quickly follows suit and washes over him, wrist refusing to let up even as he’s shooting a fat load down your throat, catching you by surprise as you’re clearly not done grinding yourself to completion yet either. Not that he cares, fuck , eyes involuntarily shut tight as he shoves his cock as deep as possible down your throat despite his previous wants, he simply can’t stop himself; and you can't blame him either, cause that whore mouth of yours is too good at taking cock to stop and think for even just a second. Forcing him to act out of pure instinct as he humps your face roughly. Buried as deep as possible down your throat, balls resting against your chin with a soft plap! b ecause his hips keep fucking forward through his orgasm until your tongue fully milks him empty—and even then he keeps fucking, shoving his cock just a little further down your throat, smiling to himself as you start to choke around him, pulling out only to watch you swallow.

You know exactly how he likes it too, and it’s infuriating. Soft and pliable, submissive under his foot, watching as you gulp a few times before opening your mouth wide for inspection just like he’d taught you, his fingers pressing gently on your tongue to flatten it before hooking your cheek. A lazy thanks escapes him as he collects his breath, bending over to reach your lips with a soft kiss as soon as he’s able to. It’s not often he feels this soft after sex, but he likes to indulge you every now and again; and Valentines day seems perfect for it. He lets his tongue poke out against yours, mingling with your own for only a brief moment to get a taste of himself before sighing down your throat and pulling away, resting back on his hands as clarity hits him after such an intense good feeling.

He regards you for a second or two more, noticing just how fucked out you look. Really has his heart thumping, y’know? Which is why he promptly looks away. Maybe the best gift you could have given him was stealing his gift, especially if it means he gets to see you all roughed up with tear stained cheeks like this, yet still you beam up at him so sweetly, as if his bullying made you the happiest girl in the world.

Gross . Not that he’s any better, his heart skipping a beat as he realises with upset just how much he really likes having you around, and how he doesn’t want anyone else to be around you. That can only mean one thing, right?

#dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #whitney the bully #whitney the bully smut #whitney🚬

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dollya-robinprotector · 1 year ago

Note

I’m trying to figure out my own DOL PC’s height, and realized…Mako is perfect dick sucking height for Lyah…(if only he was gay, Mako would ride him to oblivion) so…deleted all other things, and made this…I shall update later!

Oh my, I'm sorry to say this bu- Oh, wait, yes of course. Lyah works at the Strip Club at night, so if you really want a taste of his D, you should come there.

He usually just stick with bartender job to keep an eye on Darryl and make sure no one harass her, but some night he'd let his hair down once in a while and dance on stage. If you're lucky enough, he might agree and go to private room with you *wink*

If you're REALLY lucky.

Oh and do remember, you can chat with him while he works as a bartender, but if you see Lyah comforting a tearful Darryl, don't try to approach them. Darryl needs her safe space.

#dol pc #darryl the club owner #dollya ask #dol #degrees of lewdity

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atelierpenny · 1 year ago

Note

i really enjoy visual novels, but for lack of a better term i sort of feel like ive only played the already super popular ones - do you have any that you really love that you feel dont get recommended enough?

soz if this is long and you've already heard of half of these. also a bunch of them are gonna be yuri because well. I'm sheltered Soundless by Milk+

This is the one I'm gonna lead with because its short and its amazing. One of the most genuine stories that gets really gnarly at points so make sure to check the content warnings but this one desperately needs to be read more because it fucking gets it and made me feel really seen. Seabed by Paleontology Soft

If you can handle a slow start, its my favorite visual novel of all time. Best cast ever I've spent months and months of my life talking about and I always find new things to notice or discuss. Ghostpia by room6

Its episodic and teeechnically not done yet but i think you get a satisfying and damn excellent story with whats here. what else has presentation like this!! its so stylish and looks incredible and always keeps me hooked! A Summer's End - Hong Kong 1986 by Oracle and Bone

Took me a bit to get into the art style but the CGs are really pretty and its really sweet! It uses its time period in a far stronger way than just aesthetic and background. I like the directions it takes. Private Eye Dol by Hunex (PC Engine CD)

Extremely impressive mystery game for the time with damn good direction. More of a traditional adventure game than a visual novel but I think if you like them you'll like this. If you're short on time the first case is the best one imo so you can just play that one

Ill leave it there for now, maybe I'll add some more later

#as with last time i gave reccomendations to an ask mutuals feel free to add on #i should really keep a document for this sort of stuff. could be fun. maybe another time

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propertyofwhitney67 · 1 year ago

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His Collection

DoL Whitney The Bully blurb

Word count:668

Warnings: suggestive at some parts,Whitney being kinda ooc

You'd think for a rich boy he'd have a cleaner room. I think he just keeps it a mess just to anger his parents.

I looked around and found his collection of plushies on a shelf, the only neat area in his room. I recognized a few of them but many I did not. I think they're from shows or games. The only ones I do recognize are the sanrio ones.

I stepped over piles of clothes to get to the shelf. I could admire them better now that I was closer. I reached out to touch the Rilakkuma one but before I could a hand stopped me. I looked to see Whitney who was still holding my arm in his grasp, "...you can only touch the ones on the bed." He mumbled with a blush and let go of my hand.

I smiled to myself and held back a laugh. Ever since his uncle said he kept a collection of plushies I haven't stopped bothering him about it, in private of course. He has a reputation to uphold after all.

I looked around the room again and couldn't help but feel the urge to clean up some of this mess. Without asking I began to pick up the clothes on the floor and put them into the hamper that was in his bathroom.

I could feel him watching me as I tidied up, "Should get you a skimpy maid dress to put on." He said with a devilish smile, he was staring at my short skirt hoping to get a peak of my cunt. I didn't have time to change after school so I'm not wearing any underwear.

I bent over and wiggled my ass to work him up more. "Maybe next time." I joked and picked up the last few socks, adding them to the hamper. I made my way to his bed where he was laid back watching me and plopped down next to him and grabbed one of the more worn plushies. A classic cute teddy bear, it probably has sentimental value. I stroked its head and played with its arms.

Whitney grabbed me by the hips, causing me to drop the bear and pulled me closer and began to kiss a trail up my neck and grope my chest. Once he got to my ear he mumbled huskily, "Tell anyone about these and they'll never find you." Then continue to kiss and bite my neck. I let out a small giggle, he's said that to me before about liking Robin's hot chocolate.

I leaned back into him and enjoyed his kissing and groping. Once he was done he inspected his work and pulled out his phone to take a photo of us. He smirked at the camera while I showed off my neck. Once he put his phone away he nipped at my ear, "I'm getting you a skimpy maid dress and you're going to wear it next time you clean up." I felt my cheeks heat up and nodded my head.

He let go of me and I started looking over and messing with the plushies on the bed again, there were only a few. After some time he relaxed enough to tell me their names and the little stories he made up for them. He had a childlike look on his face as he did so. It was cute to see him so carefree and excited.

He must have noticed me staring and smiling, "You're not paying attention slut." He put the plushies he was talking about to the side.

I shook my head while still smiling, "I'm watching you."

He hummed and said, "Sounds like I should teach you a lesson on how to pay attention." He had a lustful look in his eyes.

I felt my body heat up as I sat up on my knees obediently. "Maybe you should." He smirked and pinned me down on the bed. Kissing and groping me again, this time with more passion.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity x reader #dol x reader #dol whitney #whitney the bully #dol whitney x reader #degrees of lewdity whitney #Degrees of lewdity Whitney x reader #whitney x reader #whitney the bully x reader

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annabawritersdream · 15 days ago

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TOLKIEN OC WEEK- Day 4

Prompt: Gaps and Ghosts

Title: A Daughter's Plea.

Canon Characters: (King) Aragorn Elessar; Crown Prince Eldarion (mentioned)

Original Characters=> Princess Gilraen of the Reunited Kingdom

Estella (Gilraen's governess)

Imrolas (Lord Chancellor/Aragorn's private secretary)

Lord Daerion (Eldarion's tutor),

Lady "Aunt" Mörwen (Aragorn's cousin; mentioned)

CW: Mature themes, arranged marriage, somewhat graphic description of attempted s***ide.

Synopsys: King Elessar has decided his eldest (for now only) daughter, Princess Gilraen, is ready for marriage. Unfortunately, the young royal is not at all pleased with her betrothed.

Word Count: (AO3 stats=> 9,776 words)

Also posted on AO3! (Chapter 2; day 4)

It contains major spoilers for my main WIP The Lady of Ithilien (link to be found in my general masterlist)

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

To know more about my OCs, please check my character profiles on Tumblr. (@annabawritersdream)

More information on Gilraen:

She is the second child of High King Aragorn Elessar and Queen Arwen. Born in FoA 3, she has one older brother (Eldarion, born FoA 1) and two younger sisters, Lóthuil (born FoA 16) and Meleril (born FoA 19).

GLOSSARY (SINDARIN)

Guren vell: (my) sweetheart

Ada: dad

A Daughter's Plea

Minas Tirith, FoA 15.

“What do you think, Estella?”

“I daresay you look splendid, Madam. Absolutely ravishing.”

Gilraen stood in front of the mirror and improvised a twirl.

“If I am not mistaken, that was also your opinion concerning all the other dresses that were brought in.”

“Forgive me, Madam, but there is no denying that they are all exquisite and befitting of the only daughter of our gracious King Elessar. Though I must say that, out of all the dresses the Lady Mörwen has gifted you, this may probably be that which I would be most inclined to wear. It is a magnificent creation, but I would expect no less from the clothiers of Dol Amroth. Their skill is said to be unparalleled. If I may, Madam, I also would like to remark on the dress’ subtle, understated details. I usually do not find golden motives to be aesthetically pleasing as I often find them redundant and inelegant, yet the embroideries along the cuffs are admittedly flawless.”

“It truly is beautiful. Yet I do not think I shall wear it on a regular occurrence.”

“Why is that?”

“As magnificent as it is, I do not feel comfortable in it. It is much too elaborate for my taste.”

“What would you wear then, Madam?”

“I think my blue dress will do.”

Estella sighed and rolled her eyes. “My lady…”

“What is wrong with it? It was also a gift from aunt Mörwen and there is no denying that…”

“It is old and tattered, Madam. Surely you would not want to appear before your Lord Father and your Lady Mother in those rags.”

“Do you think my mother and father would even notice? My brother is all they think about. He is all they care about. Their precious firstborn child, the heir to the House of Telcontar. They barely acknowledge my presence these days, Estella. I always knew I never mattered and, though it hurts me deeply, I am glad they finally came to terms with it. No more lying, no more hypocrisy on their part. No more pretending.”

“Madam, if I may…”

“No, Estella. I know exactly what you are about to say, and it is simply not true. My mother never loved me. One would think that the daughter of the bearer of Vilya, the last descendant of a long line of mighty Elven lords and powerful ladies, the Evenstar of her people and the most beautiful maiden to currently walk the earth would be wise not to favor one child above the other.”

“Your Lord Father…”

“The King still thinks of me as a child. He does not value my opinions, nor does he ever asks for them. To him, I am merely a pawn, a thing of no value.”

“Do not say that I pray you. The Allfather knows our King loves you very much, Madam.”

“Would he constantly dismiss my feelings if he did? Would he avoid speaking to me?”

“Perhaps he fails to show it properly, but he does care for you.”

“That day…the day I took an arrow which was clearly meant for him…all I wanted was…”

She sighed as her voice trailed off. “When the arrow hit me and my father held me in his arms, I...”

She gulped. “I was overjoyed that he had finally acknowledged me, that he had seen me. Though my vision was fading, I mustered all my remaining strength and proudly looked upon him…”

“My lady…”

“Tears were streaming down his face. I remember thinking that maybe I had finally accomplished something worth of my status as a princess. I had succeeded in protecting him; something at which the guards of the Grey Company had failed. All of those guards clad in the most magnificent armor, war-hardened soldiers trained by excellent sword masters to protect and defend their Liege-Lord. Yet, none of them had noticed the arrow coming toward the procession. No one noticed it but me. A girl who was not even supposed to be there. Eldarion did not see it, Captain Halboron was not able to spot it either. I did and I jumped before him. I was told it was a Haradrim dart.”

“Haradrim? From Harad?”

“It was laced with poison.”

Estella hugged the princess tightly. “I still cannot fathom you could have died. What would I do without you? My sweet lady, my beautiful little girl. I hope you will pardon my impudence, but…I happen to care for you as if you were one of my own. I had two wonderful boys once. Two boys and a little girl who looked like you. Though no Elven blood ran through her veins, she did indeed have a fair complexion and bright gray eyes similar to yours.”

“Did she…”

“She died of illness as an infant.” She sighed and a rueful smile appeared on her face as she caressed the princess’ cheek. “My boys died too, though the circumstances of their early demise were fairly different.”

“Do you feel comfortable enough to tell me about their deaths? I would never wish to cause you unnecessary pain and I would like to apologize in advance for shamelessly asking you to share such personal details. I have now just realized that I know very little about you. For instance, I was not aware you were married. Is your husband…”

“Sadly, it has been many years since my husband traveled beyond the Circles of the World. Shattered by our daughter’s untimely passing, he resorted to alcohol to numb his pain. The man I had married, the man I had loved with every fiber of my being slowly wasted away, drowning his sorrow in ale and wine. So much wine. He would refuse to eat, and he would not sleep, neglecting his marital duties. He was no longer interested in his craft, in his sculptures, in his books, in his children. All that that he had enjoyed prior to our baby girl’s demise had suddenly lost its appeal. I watched him wither and shrink, the spark in his eyes replaced by thick veil of despair none of us seemed to be able to pierce. His now perennially glazed eyes had turned imperious and cold, his face unrecognizable. Though he had showered my boys with a copious amount of affection, the love he felt for his daughter was unparalleled. He was perhaps the only man within the walls of this city to value a girl over his male heirs.”

“The world is in dire need of such people, I reckon,” the princess replied as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Though I do not think I am more valuable than my brother, I certainly do believe I am no less important than him. I wish my mother and father would agree.”

She held onto Estella. “I am so sorry for your loss. Though we fail to communicate most of the time, I know I could not bear it if either one of my parents died. Though I cannot stand him on most occasions, I would be devastated if something happened to my brother. Were I on my deathbed, I suppose he would not shed a single tear.”

“You may not believe it, Madam, but he was rather shaken following the accident.”

“Of course he was. Although Father was the main target, he too could have been hit. You know how much of a coward my brother is. Young children are braver than he is. I am surprised he did not have someone help him escape as soon as the arrow was released.”

“He is the Crown Prince and your father’s only heir. His survival is vital to the kingdom and I have no doubt that some people at court—influential nobles holding grudges against your father for whatever reason—who may be plotting his downfall as we speak. They have already tried killing the King, how do you know they will not attempt at your brother’s life as well? I am sure he, too, knows that it is a very likely outcome. He has a right to be scared.”

“I am certain no one from Gondor is to blame. As long as he does not leave the capital—or the kingdom for that matter—he is safe.”

“Is he?”

“No one would dare attack the Prince.”

“You prevented your father’s assassination.”

“I did indeed.”

She glanced at Estella. “No one in Gondor would purposely hurt my brother. Our people would never do such a thing. Are you perhaps trying to suggest otherwise?”

“I do not know, Madam. I thought the King could not be harmed. If you had not…”

“Please do not speak of it. We all know what could have happened and we should be thankful it did not come to pass. The mere thought of attending my father’s funeral…”

She cleared her throat as she pushed back tears. “Eldarion is much too young to ascend the throne now. He cannot sit on it, Estella. He would run the Reunited Kingdom into the ground and destroy the legacy of our House. He has no supporters, no one to guide him, no one to advise him. Those Haradrim traitors would certainly seize an opportunity and attack the city at once. Minas Tirith and its people would be annihilated. Our heritage, our culture, the traditions of our mighty ancestors…all would be lost. Gondor would cease to exist and with it the remnants of the greatest civilization of Middle-earth too would fall into oblivion.” She gulped and nervously rubbed her fingers. “I love my brother dearly, but he must not be permitted to rule until he shows he has acquired some wisdom and common sense.”

“He is still so very young, Madam. He has got time still.”

“His behavior is deeply concerning. Mother and Father refuse to acknowledge it simply because he is the heir to the House of Telcontar. He is immature, entitled…and vicious. I pity the woman he will marry.”

“I beg to differ. The lady Elenna seems quite content with the arrangement.”

“The Lady Elenna…”

The princess sighed and shook her head. “She is scared, Estella. I can see it in her eyes. That poor girl has never been happy. I have seen how my brother treats her…his attitude towards her…”

“Our prince certainly would not harm her, Madam.”

“He would. He would and he already did. I saw him. He slapped her because she would not give in to his demands.”

“Are you certain, Madam? Perhaps the Lady Elenna was talking to somebody else; someone that you mistook for your brother.”

“Do you not believe me, Estella?”

“I have never said that, my lady. But I find it hard to…”

“You do not believe me. Do you think I would purposely lie and slander the Crown Prince? Do you think I would speak if I was not beyond certain of what I saw and heard?”

“If I ever implied it, then I apologize.”

“I firmly believe the people would never harm him. They cherish him, but that is only because they are unaware of his true character. I am afraid they will indeed try and hurt him once they find out who he really is, how he acts behind closed doors. They seem to adore him and how could I blame them? He is handsome, the fairest prince of Men to ever walk Middle-earth since the Elder Days. He knows how to approach people; he is gallant and kind when the situation requires it. He is a charmer. He possesses good qualities, and it is undeniable that he knows how to use them to his advantage. He has mastered the art of deception.”

“I do understand your concerns, Madam, and I partly agree with you, yet…it seems to me you are trying to portray your bother as sort of Dark Lord.”

“Is it not accurate though? He knows how to manipulate people. Whatever he wants, he takes. No one questions him. He believes he is control of his actions, but he does not realize others are pulling the strings behind his back, namely that horrid tutor of his.”

“Lord Daerion? He is always so courteous and…”

“He is hiding something, Estella. I can feel it. He should not be allowed to be around my brother. His whereabouts are unknown, he has no family, no friends…we do not even know where he lives. How can we trust such a secretive individual? How has he been allowed to become the Crown Prince’s only confidant? A man with no position…”

“He did serve under Lord Denethor, Madam. The late Steward took him in when he was allegedly abandoned by his parents as a young child. He was then raised as a proper lord.”

“From all accounts, the deceased Steward was a repulsive excuse of a ruler and an abhorrent father to Lord Faramir. I have no doubt that Daerion is more of the same. I was right to distrust him.”

“I do not doubt your intuition, but, if I may, I have a suggestion I should like you to consider.”

“What is it?”

“Let go of prejudice.”

The princess frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It seems to me you are blinded by preconceived notions. The Lord Denethor was indeed a troubled individual, but he did have a difficult past and was forced to endure a great deal of pain. Perhaps doting on Lord Daerion was a way to reconnect with his old self, with the man he had been before he was struck by pain and tragedy. He saved an innocent child from misfortune and showered him with love and attention. What would have been of Lord Daerion had the late Steward not provided him with an adequate livelihood? He most certainly would have perished.”

“Could he not show the same love and care to his son?”

“You speak of things you do not know, my lady.”

“Many contemporaries of the Lord Denethor still dwell within these halls, Estella. Even his staunchest supporters and closest allies have confirmed that our current Steward was treated less than favorably by his sire. Some of those lords immediately swore fealty to the Prince of Ithilien following my father’s accession as they were outraged by the unfair treatment previously suffered by Lord Faramir. They wished to make amends for not protecting him when they should have. They knelt before him and begged for mercy, which was granted to them.” She sighed. “I admire Lord Faramir. He is knowledgeable and quick-witted. I wish my brother had turned to him for counsel. It would have benefited him greatly and he would now be maturing into the valiant prince he tricked the people into thinking he is. As far as I know, Lord Faramir had offered to tutor my brother, but Eldarion turned him down for Daerion.”

She paused. “It is not hard to imagine why he would do such a thing. It is no secret that my bother loves being coddled. Only Eru knows what that vile snake told him. My brother may be able to manipulate others, but he is manipulated just as easily. He is persuaded that Daerion cares for him, but it is apparent that Daerion is only interested in his reputation. That is all he cares about. I am certain he has spies and informants lingering about. He craves power, I can see it in his eyes. He craves power and would do anything to…”

She exhaled.” It is inevitable for me not to think ill of someone who was reared by a heartless madman.”

“Do you know him well enough? I think not. You should not be making assumptions, my lady. It is impolite and, if he truly is the sort of man, you are so adamantly describing, it could very dangerous if your words were overheard.”

“The Prince and the King must be protected.”

“They have the best protection available in all the lands of Men, as it is their right. The Grey Company…”

“The Grey Company failed to ensure their safety. My father only survived because of me.”

Her eyes rested on her governess’ face.

“Estella.”

“What is it, Madam?”

“I think…”

She pursed her lips. “I believe you were right. It all makes sense.”

“Madam, I am not following.”

“You said it before. You said it yourself, remember?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady, but I do not know what you are talking about. Perhaps if you would be so kind to provide some context…”

“You mentioned how there were no Haradrim at the parade.”

“That is correct. I did say that.”

“It only means the attacker was a Gondorian. You were right. Of course you were. No Rohirrim and no Haradrim attended the parade, after all.”

“Perhaps someone from Harad infiltrated the crowd and managed to…”

“They would have been caught, Estella. People from Harad have somewhat of a…distinctive appearance. They would never wear Gondorian garments, which makes them easily detectable.”

“We cannot know whether…”

“Why are you retracting your statement? I understand that you probably did not mean it. Perhaps you intended it to be a joke, a careless remark. But it is an entirely possible scenario, if not the most likely to have occurred.”

“You truly believe that…”

“It is my opinion that someone dwelling within our borders orchestrated an assassination attempt on my father. Perhaps they were also planning to murder my brother.”

“And I suppose you firmly believe that someone to be Lord Daerion, is that right?”

“I do.”

“It is not my place to argue with you, Madam, but…”

“Why are you defending him? Why are you trying to make excuses for him? Are you one of his mistresses?”

“Of course not!”

“You said it yourself, Estella. How can you not understand? Someone from Gondor was behind the attempt on my father’s life,” the Princess insisted. “Someone who knows our family well, someone who has access to my father’s inner circle. Someone my father trusts.”

“Your father has surrounded himself with many capable statesmen. Why are so you keen on accusing Lord Daerion? He’s your brother’s tutor and confidant. Why would he harm the King? He cares for Prince Eldarion as if he were his own son and every little thing he does is for his happiness and better comfort.”

“You are so blinded, Estella. For Eru’s sake, WAKE UP! You had an affair with him, there is no other explanation.”

“Madam, I…”

Estella was interrupted by a loud bang followed by a thud. A young man was on the floor, the wooden tray he has been carrying also on the ground. Estella frowned and rolled her eyes.

“Imrolas.”

He immediately stood up, picking up the tray. “Forgive me. I did not mean to barge in this unseemly fashion. I tripped and…”

“To what do we owe the grand entrance?”

“I…”

“We do not have all day, Imrolas! Place the tray anywhere you like and bow to the Princess. And do clean up this mess! Whatever was in the cup that so very unceremoniously shattered on the floor happened to spill all over the rug!”

“I had boiled some milk for the Princess…”

“She is no longer five years old! Why would you do such a thing?”

“She usually has it with sugar and vanilla extract…it is her favorite drink…”

“Do you have anything to say? Or have you come here just to be a bother?”

Imrolas bowed his head. “I was sent by King Elessar. He wishes to speak to his daughter at once.”

“You could have said it much earlier. I suppose the cleaning can be postponed. Has our gracious King mentioned…”

Imrolas turned to the Princess. “He has decided to marry you off, Madam. He is waiting for you in his study.”

He glanced at Estella. “I was not going to clean it anyway. You may do it yourself. You are the head of the Princess’ household, and it is one of your many duties. I shall tend to mine. I may be clumsy, and I may be carefree, but I deserve to be valued and respected. You cannot talk to me that way. I do not answer to you and I owe you nothing. I was sent here to deliver a message, and I thought the Princess might enjoy a glass of milk. That is all.”

He placed the tray on a nearby table and bowed to the Princess. She was staring at him in anguish. “Marry? I have to…. marry?” she asked. “It cannot be, Imrolas. Why would my father…”

“It is the King’s decision, my lady. I am only his secretary, there is nothing I can do about it. I was tasked with bringing you the news and I had to comply.”

“NO! I do not want this!”

“If you please, Madam, I shall escort you to…”

“NO!” she cried. “Estella…say something. Speak to him. Speak to the King, I don’t want to marry. I am not ready, I don’t…”

“Who am I do so, my lady? Perhaps you will grow to love your husband. Maybe it will be love at first sight. I am sure…”

“I do not want to be wed, Estella! Why is no one listening to me!?”

The Princess rushed to Imrolas and hugged him. “Who am I marrying? You have seen him, am I right? You have, Imrolas, I know you have! Please tell me…”

“I am not allowed to say anything.”

“Imrolas, please. I don’t trust my father on such matters. I love him dearly, but I…”

“Come, my lady. We should not have him wait.”

She clung to him. “I have a bad feeling, Imrolas. I am scared. I would rather stay here.”

“You must not be afraid.”

“Why do I see pity in your eyes? What is going on? Who is my betrothed? Tell me his name. I am certain that my father told you who I am marrying. He informed you about it. Please, Imrolas. I beg you…do tell me. Say it.”

“Come with me. You shall see for yourself once he joins you and your gracious father.”

Estella and Imrolas had to forcibly drag her out of her chambers, the young royal protesting and hollering for an explanation.

“Behave, my lady.”

“Behave? Are you seriously asking me to…behave?”

“I am, my lady. Your screams will be heard by the whole court. Is this what you want?”

“If you think I am interested in the opinion of servile courtiers and in that of silly ladies whose only purpose is…”

“You will follow us and…”

“I do not intend to leave my chambers.”

Imrolas glanced at her. “My Princess, I beg you…”

“I will not change my mind. I am staying here.”

“Please, my lady, do not…”

Imrolas trailed off and gasped as Estella and picked up the Princess, tossing her unceremoniously over her shoulder and placing a hand over her mouth. “I have not done this since you were a toddler,” she complained. “Albeit disgraceful, it is somehow more dignified than the horrid spectacle you are currently making of yourself.”

All the Princess could do was mumble and stare at Imrolas, who was himself bewildered.

“What are you doing, Mistress Estella? Is this the proper way to treat a princess?”

“If she insists on acting like a spoiled toddler who will not listen to reason, then yes, my Lord Secretary of the King. It is.”

“And you truly believe that carrying her as if she were a potato bag will be helpful in bringing her back to her senses about a marriage to which she clearly does not consent?

“I raised her myself, Imrolas.”

“I understand, Estella. Yet I fail to see…”

“I know what I am doing.”

“I think you could try and persuade the King to reconsider his decision. Is it not what the Princess asked of you?”

“Why do you not do it, Master Secretary? You may have a better chance of succeeding. Our Liege trusts you and confides in you. You spend more time with him than anybody in this court. Surely putting in a word would not be too difficult for you, would it?”

“I am only a secretary. It is not my place to criticize our Liege-lord.”

“It is not mine either. I am only the Princess’ governess.”

“Well, what can we do then?”

“We are servants, Imrolas. Servants obey and keep their opinions to themselves. They keep quiet and do as their lord commands. That means there is virtually nothing we can do.”

“I thought that maybe you…”

“I oversaw the Princess’ education, that is true. I taught her how to walk and how to dress. I devoted myself to her upbringing. That does not mean I can change the King’s mind. No one can.”

“Perhaps we could speak to the Queen…”

“Be reasonable, Imrolas. Be reasonable.”

“I simply suggested…”

“It is a foolish suggestion! Do you seriously think we could go to the Queen and ask her to intercede on our behalf? Have you become a complete half-wit?”

“What would happen? We could ask for an audience…”

“And say what?! Our esteemed Princess does not wish to wed?”

“Y…yes? Is that not the truth?”

He glanced at her. “She does not seem at all pleased with it.”

“That is only because I am carrying her as if she were a potato bag as you rightly pointed out.”

“You could at least take your hand off her mouth.”

“Oh no, that would be most unwise.”

“How so?”

“She would embarrass herself and we must prevent it, especially within these halls. Do you not know it is said that even walls have ears? The Princess’ reputation would be ruined.”

“I am starting to properly loathe that word.”

“You would be surprised to learn how many things I loathe.”

Imrolas raised an eyebrow and Estella scoffed. “I must confess I deeply envy those who do not live here. Though serving the realm is my most sacred franchise, I…”

“You wish you were not the Princess’ governess.”

“I love our Princess as if she were my own child. As a matter of fact, she reminds me of my daughter; my beautiful girl whom I lost so many years ago. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“I truly wish we could help her. She does not deserve to be married off so young.”

Imrolas glanced at the Princess. “Are you comfortable up there, Madam?”

The Princess released a grunt and kicked Imrolas in the shoulder. The latter wheezed. “I suppose not.”

“She need not worry, for I will soon free her. That is, if she acts as befitting her station.”

“I do hope you will release her.” He leaned in. “Mind your tongue, my lady. She is the King’s daughter. A bold choice of words may cost you your pretty head.”

“Nonsense. The Princess would never harm me. Perhaps it is you, after all. You are eager to get rid of me.”

“Oh, not at all my fair lady,” he quipped. “You may not believe me, but I very much enjoy being around you when you are not insulting me.”

“You take delight in annoying me, Imrolas. I reckon that to be far more likely.”

“Perhaps.” He sighed. “Would you mind putting the Princess down? Watching her flail her arms makes me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, my poor, sensitive Imrolas,” the governess mocked him. “I suppose you have never been to battle. It would serve you well. At least you would learn to be less impressionable.”

“And you have, my lady? How many enemies have you slaughtered with your beautiful dress and headpieces? How many experienced warriors have you faced?”

“It is not a fair comparison, my Lord Secretary.”

“Women can participate in war if they so wish. Take the late Lady Éowyn for instance. She joined the army led by Théoden King and Éomer King and killed the Lord of the Nazgûl at the Pelennor Fields. She was only twenty-four years of age when she did that. I think it is impressive.”

“Not all women are like the Lady Éowyn. Be careful not to speak of her.”

“How come? She should be hailed as one of the greatest figures of this past age. She saved us all. Minas Tirith would have fallen, had she not slain that foul beast and its accursed rider.”

“I am aware of it. I know it all too well. Yet, you should refrain from mentioning her deeds. Members of this court may be quick to judge you and, as far as I know, most of them despise you already. You had better not give them any more reasons to hate you.”

“Do they really despise me?”

“If the persistent rumors I have heard have some truth to them…I suppose that…”

“Why would they though? I have never offended or disrespected anyone. I have never even spoken to them, Estella. I barely talk to anyone except you and King Elessar. I am his secretary, the Lord Chancellor as some would say. I manage his correspondence, and I am in charge of his seal. It is my responsibility to keep track of his private expenses, and it is also my duty to collect taxes. I spend my days in an office with a balcony overlooking the Citadel and I rarely leave my quarters whenever the King does not require my assistance. I am only trying to serve the realm to the best of my ability. I may not have been the most qualified candidate to…”

“There. That is precisely the reason why others loathe the sight of you.”

“They think I am unfit to serve as Lord Chancellor, do they not?”

“You said so yourself. You mentioned how clumsy and clueless you are several times since I met you and remarked on it earlier.”

“No, I…I did not…I meant…I…”

“Calm down, Imrolas.”

“Do you agree with them?”

“Imrolas…”

“It is a simple question. The answer should not require much thought, as it is fairly straightforward. Do you agree or not?”

Estella glanced at him. “No. No, I don’t.” Her lips curved into a meek smile, an amused twinkle in her eye. “Although you could try and be slightly more…organized. I have seen your study, and I think you should thank the Valar the King is not interested in visiting you.”

“He does not have time to visit me. He has many issues to take care of and so have I.”

“You should be grateful and pray that the One keeps him busy.”

“It is not funny, Estella. I take my duties seriously and…”

“I know that, my friend. I just thought I could land you a helping hand.”

“What for? I mean, I am flattered. I…what would I need help with? I cannot think of a single thing that needs fixing or…”

“When was the last time that study was cleaned, for instance?”

The secretary instantly paled. “Ugh…I…well, I…”

“That is what I thought.”

“What…what do you intend to do about it?”

“Dust it? Clean it? Sweep the floors, add some color to it? Add some flowers, a few pillows here and there? One may as well find more cheer in the Houses of the Dead.”

“I am very meticulous when it comes to…”

“Oh, do keep your tongue behind your teeth, Imrolas! You cannot fool me.”

“I am not trying to, I…”

“Here we are,” the governess cut him off. “Madam?”

Gilraen let out a grunt and tried to sound out some words, Estella’s hand still on her mouth.

“May Eru be blessed, you are alive. You have been awfully quiet; I was starting to worry.”

The Princess’ mumbling prompted Estella to set her free. She put her down gently and fixed her hair. “We are approaching the King’s study. Please, Madam, do not cause a scene.”

“I have no desire to marry.”

“You will have to. Your father…”

“He cannot force me.”

“You are the King’s daughter, and you are expected to...”

“I will not marry anyone. Not for a long time.”

“I have no wish to gag you again, but if you keep arguing and interrupting me when I am attempting to…”

“What about you? Have you ever considered taking another husband? You could wed Imrolas. I heard you talk, and you quarrel like an old married couple. What do you think, Imrolas?”

“Madam, now it is not an appropriate time to jest. Your father is waiting for you. You should go.”

“Will you two not accompany me?”

The secretary and the governess exchanged a glance. “Would you like us to?”

“Yes. I do not think I can do it alone.”

They walked to her father’s study silently, Imrolas and Estella slowing their pace so that the Princess could take the lead. They were servants and, as such, it was forbidden for them to trudge by her side. They turned a corner and saw full-armored guards stationed on both sides of the corridor, the winged crown of Gondor and the scepter of Annúminas intertwined in an elaborate coat of arms that was plastered on their tabards as well as on their helms. They bowed as she hesitantly trudged along, their heads as low as hers. She stopped before a carved oak door. She turned back and sighed as Estella and Imrolas each gave her an encouraging nod. Then they both bowed and took their leave of her. She stood still for a few more minutes before the guard standing closest to her opened the door, careful not to meet her eye. She pursed her lips and prayed to Eru. All will be well, she told herself. Whatever happens, do not lose hope. For lost is the faithless when the road darkens.

“Gilraen, guren vell. Do come in.”

She entered the room and curtsied. Elessar stood and walked up to her, hugging her tightly. “My beautiful girl. You must be wondering why I called you here.”

He kissed her brow and the light in his eyes dimmed as he glanced into hers. “What is it, my child?”

“I…I was told…”

“Oh, you already know about it, then.” He kissed her cheek. “I am so proud of you, my sweet girl. Are you alright?”

Her lips curved into an understated smile as she bowed her head.

“Gilraen?”

“I am, my lord. I am fine. You seem to be in good health as well.”

“It is because of you that I still live, my daughter.” He ran a hand through her hair. “I need you to promise me something.”

“You only need ask. I am yours to command.”

“Never try and save my life again.”

“Father…”

“Should I perish, whether it be in combat or…”

“Please don’t…”

“You’re right. You probably do not wish to hear unpleasant things on such a joyful occasion. I have summoned you here to discuss another matter. I apologize for not telling you sooner, but, as it happens, my mind was set on your full recovery.”

“I know. Though I was unconscious most of the time, I knew you were by my side. I felt your presence, and, for that, I am grateful. You worked tirelessly to ensure my survival.”

Elessar caressed her face. “My sweet girl…forgive me for not being a better father to you. Eru knows that I have made mistakes. I have neglected you and disregarded you, but I believe I have found a way to mend our relationship. I know how tedious life at court is to you. Which is why I have decided to allow you to spend a few months away from the capital.”

Gilraen’s eyes widened. “My liege, I…”

“Father. Please do not use titles with me. I am your father, Gilraen.”

“I...do not know what to say.”

“It is not what you have always wished for?”

“I…”

“You are trembling. Are you certain you’re alright?”

“I…”

“Gilraen?”

His tone was full of concern. “My child, look at me. If you don’t feel well…”

“I am fine. I am just…confused.”

“How so?”

“You were never in favor of me leaving Minas Tirith. You always called me back whenever I left to visit Aunt Mörwen and you know how safe her mansion is. Why would you send me away when you always insisted that I stay here?”

“You are not going back to Dol Amroth. Forget about Aunt Mörwen.”

She frowned. “What do you mean? Am I no longer allowed to…”

“You will be escorted to Lossarnach as soon as possible.”

“Why? What am I to do there?”

“It is my personal thank you to you, my child. A wedding gift which I hope shall be well received.”

“Wedding gift?”

“Are you not glad?”

“I…”

“Gilraen?”

“Should I be?”

“It is for you to tell me. Though I must confess I did expect quite a different reaction. Usually, ladies cannot contain their excitement hearing such news. That is my experience, at least.”

“To whom am I to be married? Imrolas would not speak about it. Why am I being sent to Lossarnach? There is nothing for me to do there.”

“Your betrothed has been granted lordship over the region and you, as his bride, are entitled to the title of lady of Lossarnach. The Prince of Umbar was briefly considered as a viable alternative, but you never seemed comfortable with the idea of crossing the border.”

“That is not true. I have only been to Dol Amroth, and you always called me back here nearly as soon as you learned of my departure. I would like to travel to Rohan and I should also enjoy to visit my uncles and see my Lady Mother’s childhood home for myself. Rivendell must be so beautiful and…”

“That is enough, Gilraen.”

“But…”

“I must tell you that the grandson of the current lord of Lebennin was also considered. I have met with the boy on a number of occasions and, though he would be an excellent husband, he suffers from a variety of ailments which can hardly be treated. I feel for the boy, truly. He would be the perfect husband for you, but I doubt he would be able to fulfill his marital duties. Our House is young, and it needs heirs in order to leave a lasting legacy.

“I am twelve years old…”

“I know, my child, I know. Your brother is fourteen and so is his own betrothed. Such is nature of unions among the nobility, whether we approve of it or we do not. I understand such a commitment may be cause of worry and distress, which is why I recommend that you spend some time with the lady Elenna. After all, she is your brother’s intended, and she also happens to be well-advised on several…”

“I will never be like the Lady Elenna nor do I wish to. I admire her but I pity her. I pity her and I would rescue her if I could. I would save her from the dark pit in which she is trapped.

“Trapped?”

“Have you not noticed how miserable she is?”

Elessar sighed. “She did indeed endure some unpleasant…”

“Do you think forcing an arranged marriage upon her will be at all helpful? The poor girl is unwell and no one seems to care. If she really must marry, at least have her choose her own husband. I have seen how Eldarion treats her, Father. I witnessed some of his brutality. He has no regard for her honor and…”

“I will not let you slander your brother. While it is understandable that you may not see eye to eye on certain...”

“Father, Eldarion is...”

“Do not interrupt me, my child,” he admonished her. “While I do agree that there are many at court who do not wish the Lady Elenna well—many of whom I have known for several years—I am beyond convinced your brother is not one of them. He may not be in love with her as of now, but he would never mistreat her.”

“Do you understand that a great deal of her pain and suffering are to be attributed to none other than my very own brother, to the Crown Prince you so revere? What has Eldarion done to deserve the constant praise you and Mother seem to be so keen on lavishing upon him? What has he done to deserve such boundless love? What has he achieved that I have not accomplished as well?”

“You both are distinguished members of House Telcontar. The future of the Reunited Kingdom rests in your hands.”

“You have not answered my question, Father,” Gilraen insisted. “What has Eldarion done that is so deserving of merit and attention?”

Elessar sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “It is true then. I hoped your brother’s worries were futile and unfounded. At last, it turns out he was correct.”

“Of what do you speak? What are you referring to?”

“Sadly, your brother is aware of the blatant disdain in which you hold him and is disconcerted by your cold demeanor and arrogant manners, which, I admit, I had not noticed until he pointed them out to me. He stressed how some of the rather grievous incidents in which you were recently involved and the issues that followed may have been exacerbated by your condescending attitude.”

“He accused me of being condescending?”

She scoffed. “I am so very pleased to know that my irreprehensible brother is now fit to lecture me on morals. If I may say so, Father, I think he ought to strive to better his own behavior and focus on his duties. As the Crown Prince, he is expected to uphold to the values of our forefathers.”

“Of course he is. And so are you.”

“I am trying to my best to act according to my conscience. I have always done so, and I stand firm on this proposition of mine. I am not one to be easily swayed.”

“Of that, I am glad,” he replied dryly. “Though I still fail to understand what you were trying to imply.”

“I find it odd that a man of your wisdom and acumen was unable to grasp the hidden meaning behind my previous statement.”

“Fret not, I did pick up on the subtleties.” Elessar glanced at his daughter, his gray eyes cold and stern. “However, I should very much like you to detail Eldarion’s misdeeds. They must be grave indeed to warrant such a harsh reaction.”

“Eldarion is not the boy you believe him to be, my liege.”

“It was your brother who brought it to my attention. We discussed the matter at great length, and it may be due to a poorly concealed feeling of jealousy on your part. While I dismissed his claim at the time our conversation about the matter took place, I see now that I should have heeded his words.”

“I never once thought my beloved father would favor one of his children beyond measure while completely disregarding the other, but it is apparent that the Crown Prince succeeded in poisoning you against me.” Her lip quivered. “What happened to you? Tell me, Ada. I…I need to know. What happened to us? Has your love for me utterly faded? Why will you not believe me, why will you not listen to me? Why will you not even look me in the eye?”

“Now it is not the time to address such…”

“You will not dismiss me again,” she chimed in. “I will not allow it.”

“Very well. Do speak, Gilraen.”

“Have you truly not noticed anything odd in Eldarion’s behavior? Is she such a good pretender that you would believe him if he told you that the Valar came among us?”

“Say what you must and make haste, I pray you. I did not summon you here so that you could slander your brother with unfounded accusations. Your intended is joining us shortly in order to discuss the terms of your betrothal as well as his plans for the betterment of Lossarnach.”

“You will not listen to me, will you? I have to yet say a word and…”

“Gilraen.”

“I must beg my liege to call off the Crown Prince’s betrothal to the Lady Elenna of Ithilien.”

Elessar frowned. “Why? I doubt that the Lady Elenna has behaved improperly.”

Gilraen clenched her jaw. “Must it always be the Lady Elenna or any other woman? Why can it not be Eldarion? Is it because he is a boy? Is it because he is a male?”

“You know very well that is not what I meant.”

“Is it because he is your coveted heir, the high and mighty Crown Prince of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor? Is that why you cannot fathom the concept of him ever making a mistake? That is it, is it not?”

“Your brother is a kind and thoughtful young man.”

“That is what he wants you and Mother to believe. Although he is excellent at making it seem so, he is not who he pretends to be.”

“Gilraen…”

“He beats her, Father. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your precious son. My brother. Eldarion.”

Elessar stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “What about him?”

“Do you not understand? He is the sole responsible for her troubles.” She sighed. “You care deeply about her, do you not?”

“Of course I do. She is a blessing to our family and will be a wonderful Crown Princess and an excellent Queen in due time. The realm will flourish under her guide and protection.”

“She will not be the Crown Princess, Father. For her own sake, she cannot be. Eldarion should not be permitted to wed until he matures and learns how to treat others.”

Confusion and bewilderment were etched on the King’s features. “My son would never disrespect anyone. He was not raised that way. I made sure of it.”

“I know,” the Princess quipped. “Unfortunately, my brother appears to have forgotten the values you and my Lady Mother tried to instill in him as a child. He strayed from the rightful path you set him on long ago and sought refuge in the counsel of another.”

She paused. “I suppose you are aware of his fondness for his tutor.”

Elessar nodded. “Lord Daeron is a trusted member of his household and a valuable ally to the Crown. He is a core member of my Council and has served me faithfully since I reclaimed the throne that was mine by right. He recently further proved his worth and his loyalty to the realm by saving your life. You, my daughter, stand before me because of him and, for that, I am forever in his debt. A debt which, I fear, shall never be fully paid. Though an attempt was made and an agreement between us was indeed reached, I fear it will not suffice.”

Gilraen ignored him. “What if he was to blame for Eldarion’s misbehavior? His influence on him is growing stronger by the day.”

“Lord Daeron oversees his scholarly education, that is all. Your brother has no other reason to see him, and, to my knowledge, he does not interact with him unless he has queries about his daily assignments. They speak of history, grammar and politics.”

“I presume Eldarion himself told you so.”

“You are correct.”

“I assume you do not know about his many concubines then.”

“What are you saying, Gilraen? You enjoy spreading lies and deceit to tarnish his reputation, do you not? What is it that you hope to gain from your scheming? Do you seek to win the people’s favor?” He looked at her gravely. “Are you plotting to overthrow me? Do you want to be queen? Tell me, Gilraen. You wish to rule, is that right?”

Her eyes widened. “Father, how can you…?”

“What will you do? Speak. Tell me all about it. Will you have your brother killed? Are you hoping the people will murder him so that you can ascend the throne? Will you get rid of me as well? Will you have me executed? What about your mother? Is she going to be exiled?”

“How quickly did you forget that I saved you,” she replied, her tone low. “How quickly. I took an arrow that was meant for you, I bled for you, I nearly died for you, and this is what you think? Do you truly believe I would usurp your throne and murder my family in cold blood? I care nothing for that stupid chair. Yes, Father, that is all that it is. A stupid chair. A stupid, meaningless chair that could as well be destroyed by a flood or a natural disaster of any sort. Do you think I would choose a chair over my parents?”

“I did not…”

“I am trying to have a conversation with you, I am attempting to reason with you. I am only asking for a few minutes of your time. I am only asking you to listen. Can you do that? Can you listen to your own daughter? Is it too much to…”

Her voice trailed off and tears welled up in her gray eyes. “You need to save her. Save the Lady Elenna from my brother. Call off their betrothal. Marry her to somebody else, someone who will take care of her. I may not know her all that well, but she is struggling, Father. That much is clear for all to see. She is suffering and it is my wish to help her.”

“I had suggested that you spend some time with her. It will benefit you greatly. As I mentioned earlier, she is the epitome of…”

“Are you in denial or just plain cruel? She is suffering and we must do something to aid her. We must intervene before she…”

She noticed how her father had stiffened, his eyes suddenly vacant. “Are you alright?”

He did not reply and Gilraen raised an eyebrow. “Father?”

He gulped and took a deep breath before he sat. “I did intervene. Had I waited one more instant, she…”

“What did she do?”

“I…”

“Did my brother do something to her?”

“Gilraen…”

“Did the Prince force himself on her? I know he slaps her and pushes her around when she does not give in to his whims. I caught a glimpse of several bruises on her arms, and I may have inquired about a visible split lip but…even I cannot picture my brother...”

She held her breath and exhaled loudly. “He would not do that, would he? She is to be his wife. He cannot…please tell me that he…”

“She has taken up to wearing a tight collar around her throat, has she not?”

Gilraen blinked, confused. “I thought it was necklace at first, but…yes, she…she does wear one. Other ladies wear jewelry of the same fashion. Why do you ask?”

“She…she was attacked by two of your mother’s attendants. She would not say their names even though I begged her multiple times. She was trembling. They injured her with scissors and punched her repeatedly in the face. Poor child was so scared. They attacked her out of envy. That is what she told me. She said they harmed her because they were jealous of her future status as Crown Princess. She said they claimed to have slept with your brother. I did not believe it; I still do not believe it. I did not raise my son that way. My Eldarion would never do that. I warned the Lady Elenna about the remote possibility of him taking a mistress, but…”

“You knew…”

“I would have warned anyone. Infidelity is rampant in Gondor; it always has been. I simply wished to warn her as I would have done with any other lady. What matters is…I did not believe her. I got angry and said things I should not have. She blamed her late mother for her misfortune and…asked me to return to Emyn Arnen. She said she only wanted to be happy, and she doubted she could find respite here at court. She pleaded again and again…she cried out that she only wished to go home. I refused. I did not give her my permission to return to Ithilien. Then…”

He smothered a sob. “She grabbed her silver dagger, the one I gave her as a birthday present a few years ago. She held it tightly, pressed it against her throat and…”

Gilraen was fuming. “Why would you not allow her to leave? She attempted to kill herself…she tried to…”

The tears she had been holding back were now freely trickling down her pale cheeks. “You are to blame for this. It is your fault. You truly are cruel. Why would you…”

She was shaking in anger. “I am to be married to Daerion, am I not? You gave my hand in marriage to that depraved, disgusting, utterly foul specimen of a Secondborn. That was the agreement you reached, was it not?”

“He is a good man. He saved you when I could not.”

“I wish I had died.”

“GILRAEN!”

“I wish I had died before I learned what you did to an innocent girl who just wanted to see her home again. I wish I had died before I learned what sort of despicable individual you are.”

“I did not…”

“I am leaving. I am going back to Dol Amroth. Aunt Mörwen will attend on me so that I will not have to see you again.”

She turned and walked to the door. Elessar immediately rose to his feet. “I will not allow it, Gilraen.”

“I presumed you would say it. I hoped you would.”

“You are not permitted to leave this room until your betrothed arrives.”

“You can speak his name.”

A page suddenly entered the room and bowed. “I beg your pardon my liege,” he said sheepishly. “Lord Daerion is here. He says he was summoned to discuss a matter of the utmost importance.”

Elessar stood up. “He was.” He composed himself. “Let him in.”

The page bowed once more. “My King.”

He furthered opened the door and a tall, distinguished man who could have easily passed for a gentleman made his way in. Gilraen stumbled as he stepped closer to her. “My Princess,” he saluted her before bowing to Elessar. “My liege. You honor me beyond words.”

“Come, my lord.”

Gilraen shivered as her brother’s tutor walked by her. She sighed and held her breath, trying to control her shaking hands. She stood still, her ears deaf to most of the conversation between her father and her—she nearly fainted as she allowed herself to reflect on it—future husband. She could not move, her feet unable to sustain her weight. She fell to her knees without a sound, her mind blank. She no longer knew who she was, she did not know where she was, and it did not matter to her. She had died. She was reminded of the Lady Elenna and of her pain. A pain she had only now begun to understand.

She was pulled up by a pair of arms, but she could not feel her father’s embrace. She heard his voice call her name, but she found she was unable to talk.

She blinked as she realized she was lying on her bed. She was in her chambers, her governess watching over her.

“Madam?”

Gilraen whimpered. “Estella?”

She stirred. “My head hurts.”

“I was so worried when I saw your father carrying you…”

“Why was I brought here? What happened? I cannot seem to remember.”

“I am not quite sure.”

“Did I faint?”

“I would not say so, Madam. You were…catatonic. Lord Daerion mentioned how concerned he was and…”

Gilraen jerked as her mind cleared. Being of Elven descent certainly had its own perks. “I need to leave. Tomorrow. I am going back to Dol Amroth. Tell the maids to prepare all that is needed. We are going and the Lady Elenna is coming with us.”

“Madam, I am afraid it is not possible. The King…”

“He is marrying me off to him, Estella. I did not even want to be wed, and he is entrusting me to that old creep. What have I done to deserve it? Why me, Estella, why me!?”

“Madam, I am sure there is an explanation. You need to calm down. Your father would never endanger you. You need to speak to him so that he can…”

“We are leaving, Estella. We are leaving. The three of us.”

The governess looked puzzled. “The third person being…?”

“Why, the Lady Elenna, of course! Have someone—anyone—from my household send her a message. Urge them to do as I command at once. We cannot afford to waste time. We are leaving at dawn tomorrow.”

“Madam…you need plenty of rest and…”

“I need to see Aunt Mörwen. Both my life and that of the Lady of Ithilien depend on it, do you understand?”

“Madam, you need to calm down. Perhaps if the physician examined you…”

“I need you to listen to me. I need you to do as I say. Please, Estella. We both need to go. Aunt Mörwen will help us.”

“I…”

“That is, unless you want me to kidnap the Lady Elenna and run off with her as soon as the sun sets. I have done it before, and you know I would be capable of doing it again.” She chuckled. “I did not kidnap anyone last time though. Do you think it would be an easy feat to accomplish?”

Estella glared at her but the Princess ignore her disapproving looks. “So, what is it going to be?”

The governess pursed her lips. “I will have someone send the Steward’s daughter a message.”

“I knew I could trust you. I am not marrying Daerion, and she is not marrying my brother.”

“Is this why…”

“Yes. I will not let it happen. We will both be free.”

“I do not think the King and Lord Faramir will…”

“Go, Estella. Please. Please, do as I ask.”

The governess curtsied and left, a crease on her forehead. Young Gilraen smiled and soon her smile tuned into a smirk. She would be free. Soon, they would both be free. And happy.

Yes. They would be happy. The Lady Elenna would smile too at last.

She deserves it, Gilraen thought, she deserves it more than anyone. May the Valar protect us both. I do not know her all that well, but I want her to be happy.

She blew the candle on her night table and closed her eyes. Estella was right, she did need to rest. A long journey awaited her. A long, somewhat expected journey.

Canon Character Faceclaims:

Henry Cavill as Eldarion

Original Character Faceclaims

Kaya Scodelario as Gilraen

Burcu Gül Kazbek as Estella, Gilraen's governess

Daniel Portman as Imrolas

Aidan Gillen as Daerion

Selen Öztürk as Mörwen

Tags:

@tolkienocweek

@lucifers-legions

@emmanuellececchi

@saurongorthaur9

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elvain · 8 months ago

Text

Ride Out In The Country

Éomer raised a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. With his other hand, he held up a sack full of bright, red apples. Whistling through his teeth sharply, Éomer called, “Firefoot! Come here!”

Firefoot, who was grazing upon long, sweet grass some ways away, only swished his tail. Éomer supposed he was only glad the horse had not seen fit to relieve himself at his call.

“Firefoot!” he called again. Ridiculous beast, he thought privately.

This time, Firefoot did lift his tail to relieve himself.

“Having trouble, my Lord?”

Éomer dropped his arm and turned. “No,” he said stiffly. “I did not think to see you here today.”

Lothíriel Queen of the Mark, once called Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, only raised a dark eyebrow at his words. “I am here every day.”

read more on AO3. written for @eomer :) reblogs encouraged/appreciated!

taglist below. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@lordoftherazzles @mirkwood @glamdolf @hobbitwrangler @gondolindon

#eomer eadig #eomer x lothiriel #lothiriel #eomer of rohan #fotfics #writermk

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 months ago

Text

Round 2, Poll 6

Poll at the bottom of the post.

Ghost of a Chance: (Haunted Wedding AU)

It was entirely possible Bilbo was in shock.

“Bilbo, please say something. Are you hurt?”

Bilbo did his best to focus in on those blue eyes. Those familiar, soul-sucking blue eyes. It started to become harder though when his own began to water.

“I want to go home.” He breathed, his chest tightening to a painful degree.

“Okay.” Thorin murmured, still touching, still staring. “Okay, we can get you back to your room.”

Bilbo suddenly surged to his feet, glaring down at the kneeling man.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK TO MY STUPID FUCKING HAUNTED ROOM! DID YOU NOT JUST HEAR ME?! I WANT TO GO HOME!”

It was like the room had suddenly been sucked free of noise as Bilbo’s ears rang with his declaration. His eyes swept the room, taking notice of all the pitying and worried looks. Some familiar, some strangers. Bilbo buried his face in his hands, trying to disguise the overwhelmed feeling as exasperation. He felt more than saw Thorin stand up and place his hand on the back of Bilbo’s neck. He leaned in close, his breath tickling Bilbo’s ear.

“Do you want to go some place a little more private?”

Bilbo nodded his head, not trusting himself to speak again.

“Can you promise me you’re physically okay?”

Bilbo nodded again. Almost immediately after he did, that hand on his neck moved down to the middle of his back, propelling him forward.

“He’s fine. Just a little shaken up. No need for an ambulance. He just needs some rest.”

Guardian of Kings (sequel): (BAMF Bilbo)

“I assume you have a plan?” Thranduil pestered him for the umteenth time.

“I’m working on it.” Bilbo grit out.

Thranduil pursed his lips but didn’t utter another word. Bilbo could see he was hurting. His leg injury was no joke, and the orcs weren’t about to take it easy on them. Sometimes speeding up to a jog until Thranduil would fall over. Then they would drag him back to his feet and begin their march again.

The problem was, they were outnumbered, they had no weapons, and even worse, Bilbo had lost his clever little ring. In fact, he had gone nearly maniac when he realized that fact until an orc bashed him over the head with its fist. There was still an itching under his skin that demanded he go back, but he needed to bide his time. Figure out why exactly the orcs were keeping them alive. All too soon, he was about to find out.

Dol Guldur stood in the distance, a dark looming ruin, promising evil things. However, the orcs stopped a little ways outside the fortress. Where the webs were still thick in the trees.

“Bring the little one forward!” The orc in the lead ordered.

Bilbo cursed and struggled, Thranduil almost looking worried for him, as he was brought to the front and thrown to the ground.

“Ugzaul!” The orc cried into the woods. “We have brought your Stinging Fly!”

Bilbo felt his blood freeze in his veins. He immediately tried to pull himself to his feet, only for an orc to plant its foot on his back to keep him there.

From the Pieces of Your Shattered Memories: (Amnesia Modern AU)

Could he have possibly chosen a more unattainable guy? He just wished for his poor heart’s sake that Oakenshield would quit putting such faith in him. It was clearly clouding Bilbo’s judgment.

Bilbo ducked inside thinking not for the first time that Odo really ought to start locking the door as he made his way through the hallway of foreign antiquities to the curator’s office. He paused for just a moment at a new display advertising for Erebor. Bilbo had almost forgotten! The King of Erebor had come to Bree which was the next city over. That must be how Oakenshield got here. If this lead didn’t work out, he could always try Bree next and…wasn’t Bilbo supposed to be done after this?

He had just gotten his thoughts back in order, leaving the dimly lit room only to almost run head first into his cousin. Bilbo jumped back, clutching his heart as he tried not to scream.

“Odo! For Yavanna’s sake, warn a guy if you will!”

“You are many things, Bilbo Baggins, but sneaky isn’t one of them. What are you doing here?”

Bilbo could only grimace, thinking of Oakenshield's teasing comments earlier about Bilbo’s sneakiness as well.

“I need a favor.” Bilbo cut to the chase.

“You have some nerve, Cousin! I called you two days ago after having practically broken my ankle, and now you need a favor.”

Bilbo tried his hardest not to roll his eyes even if they did flicker down to the wrapped ankle that Odo seemed to be standing on perfectly fine now.

#birthday plot bunnies tournament #follower event #the hobbit #bagginshield #round 2 poll 6 #haunted wedding au #bamf bilbo baggins #amnesia modern au

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 11 months ago

Text

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 26.5

Chpter 26

Masterlist

"Ivan, you're...an elf?" Aemma asks, staring at the point ears that were now exposed.

Eyes wide, Ivan, quickly covers his ears, and is prepared to make a run for it. "Ivan, wait!" Aemma calls out, running after him, "please don't go. Ivan!" Ivan ran down the hall, but Aemma was able to catch up and grab him by the arm, "Ivan, wait! Please don't run from me."

Ivan turned his gaze towards Aemma, "you won't tell anyone about this, will you?" "No...I won't tell anyone," Aemma nods, "but I would still like to talk about it. Come on." The princess takes Ivan by the arm and leads him to the library. Much as Aemma would want to find a more private place to discuss this where no one would overhear, like her room, she knew it wouldn't be considered appropriate. Especially now since the whole of the Red Keep knew of her first flowering, her maidenhood would be put under heavy scrutiny from this point on.

"So...you're an elf?" Aemma repeats. Ivan had hidden his ears back under his headband, but one thing she noticed was that the points of his ears weren't as prominent as what she saw on the elven women back at the exhibition. "Well, not quite," Ivan admits, "I am actually inh'ied." Aemma frowned at that term. "half elf," Ivan explains, "my mother was human...and my father was elven." "Half-elf?" Aemma's eyes widen a bit, "I didn't even know that was possible...for a human and an elf that is." "It's rare, but it's not unheard of," Ivan shrugs, "truthfully many humans on the Continent could probably trace their blood lines to some sort of elven ancestry. They just don't know it."

"Well, that explains the headband and hat from when we first met," Aemma said, "but...why didn't you leave with the elven women if you didn't feel safe here?" "Go with them? To Dol Blathana? They would never accept me there," Ivan scoffs, "it's one of the drawbacks of being conceived from both worlds. Ears too pointy for humans, but not pointed enough for the Aen Siedhe. At least when I have them covered I can pass well enough as human, but elves are not so easily fooled. They can sense my...d'hoine blood a league away, especially when my human emotions get the better of me. I don't belong there, and I don't belong among humans either. I haven't belonged anywhere for awhile now. Not since my own mother passed."

Aemma felt she understood. It was no secret in the court of how she came to be; a bastard daughter of the Rogue Prince and the Lady Lark. And no one had ever kept that secret from her. Had she not been proclaimed true born by her uncle, she may have been in a similar situation as Ivan. "You could still belong here, Ivan," Aemma tries to assure. "You really think so, princess?" Ivan gives Aemma an incredulous look, "if I were to take this off right now," he briefly lifts the headband off slightly to expose his ears, "if I were to show my ears in front of your cousins, in front of the whole court, do you think they would be as accepting?" Aemma sighed, giving a solemn look; Aegon certainly wouldn't, she knew that, and Aemond probably wouldn't either, especially since he'd suspected Ivan of hiding something from the beginning. Not even Jace or Luke, she felt, would be as understanding. Helaena may be the exception, but even that was speculation. Rhaenyra may not...but maybe Ser Laenor would, knowing what it was like to be different and having to hide that difference from the court around him. The other knights and nobles probably wouldn't; if anything, they would most likely gossip behind his back if not outright call him a freak to his face.

"No...I don't think they would," the princess admits, "people can be cruel, that much is true." "All the more reason I need to keep the elven part of me a secret," Ivan nods. "Ivan is an elf?!" Ivan and Aemma looked up in shock to see Aemond, eyes wide. "Aemond," Aemma gasps.

The young prince was about to turn and run, but Aemma was quick to catch up and practically tackle him to the ground. "Aemma, let go of me!" Aemond demands. "Not until you swear not to tell anyone what you just heard!" Aemma insists. Aemond continued to struggle as Ivan went around till he was in the boy's line of sight. "I knew it," Aemond sneers, "I knew there was something off about you. I knew you were hiding something. You're a...a..." "Go on, say it," Ivan challenges, "can't be worse then I've been called before in my old village in Aedirn." "Aemond-" Aemma feels the prince push her off and quickly stands, but the princess grabs him by the arm once more, "Aemond, please!" Aemond saw the desperate look on Aemma's face that mirrored Ivan's, "give me one reason why I shouldn't say anything? Why he shouldn't be thrown out?"

"Why should he be thrown out at all?!" Aemma exasperates, "because he's different? You were starting to warm up to Ivan, he was becoming your friend, it doesn't change anything." "It changes everything," Aemond insists, "he's...he's a sneak. He deceived us! He deceived you!" "He didn't have a choice," Aemma says, "you know how the elven women were treated at the docks by the Velen merchant. He could be treated worse as a half-elf. Can't you have a little empathy for him?" "Aemma-" "If you do this, Aemond, and they send him away, I'll never speak to you again," Aemma threatens.

"It's alright, princess," Ivan speaks up, "you're right, Prince Aemond, I did deceive you about what I was, I won't deny that. But I am still the person you know me to be. I'm still Ivan," he lifts his headband in slightly in a bold gesture to show Aemond his ears, "Now...you just know something else about me. Something that is just merely a part of who I am." "Aemond," Aemma speaks up, "he doesn't have anywhere else to go. Would you really be this cruel?"

Aemond looked to Aemma before turning his gaze back to Ivan, and then turned it back to Aemma. Aemond had to think about it, and both Aemma and Ivan were waiting in anticipation, "...fine...I won't say anything," he says in a soft voice. "You swear?" "...I swear," Aemond nods before Aemma lets him go. Aemond then turned to Ivan, "but I'm not letting you out of my sight. If you give me even one reason-" "You won't need a reason, my prince," Ivan nods at Aemond.

"You're wanted on the training fields," Aemond tells Ivan in a low tone, "you better go before I change my mind." Ivan gave Aemond a confused look, but decided to walk away not wanting to risk provoking the prince.

Aemma gave her cousin a stern look, "what were you even doing here, Aemond?" Aemond had to compose himself for a brief moment. Just moment before his mother gave him the box to give to Aemma, he had a rough time in the dragon pits as, once again, the now ten year old boy had not been able to claim a dragon. It wasn't fair...Aegon and Helaena had a dragon, and his younger brother had one. Luke had a dragon hatch from his egg and now Jace had one of his own, something that Aemond was starting to resent given that those were...rather plain featured compared to their mother and supposed father.

"I was...looking for you actually," Aemond finally answers, handing Aemma a small box, "this came from Oldtown. For your nameday. It's from Daeron." "Little Daeron?" Aemma accepts the box with a small smile. Daeron was the youngest of Viserys' and Alicent's children; currently the boy was spending time in Oldtown as a ward to his great uncle Hobert Hightower, the Lord of Oldtown, and his grandsire the former Hand of the King. Otto Hightower hadn't been back to King's Landing for nearly ten years, but he still wrote to Alicent and to his grandchildren on occasion. Aemma didn't really remember Otto all that much as she was still around three years when he was dismissed from the king's service.

Aemma opens the box to reveal it was a ring with what looked like purple-blue scales in the center. "This looks like this came from Tessarion's scales," she states as she puts the ring on, "a perfect fit."

"I, uh, heard what happened," Aemond changes the subject, "that uh...Your, flowering." "Yes," Aemma nods, trying now not to think about what happened afterwards. "Mother told me," Aemond explains, still feeling awkward about talking about this, "She didn't really elaborate." "Do you know what this means, Aemond?" Aemma asks. "That you are a woman now," Aemond answers, looking down at the ground, "and...that you are fit to bare Aegon his children." "Are you sad about this?" Aemma asks, feeling confused by the prince's change in demeanor. "Not at all," Aemond denies, though his tone of voice said differently, like he was trying to convince himself that he was okay with it, "this is the way things are. You are Aegon's betrothed...his future queen."

"Oh, Aemond, not you too," Aemma shakes her head. "He is the firstborn son," Aemond points out, placing a hand on Aemma's shoulder, "that makes him next in law." Aemma scoffs at that, "you are aware your father has not yet change the line of succession." "It won't change the way things are." "You're really starting to sound like your mother." "It is the natural order of things," Aemond says, "and even if Rhaenyra did supersede all of us to ascend the throne, who is going to accept her sons, her b-"

Aemond had to stop himself before he said something that could get him in trouble. "Her what, Aemond?" Aemma presses, "Jace and Luke are Rhaenyra's what?" Aemond said nothing. Aemma sighed a bit; she knew what he wanted to say, as he has heard what people would whisper in court when they believed none of the royal family (mostly Rhaenyra and Viserys) could hear. "...my mother and father were not wed when I came to be in my mother's womb, you know," Aemma speaks, "no one has ever kept that from me. I am a bastard." "You WERE a bastard," Aemond corrects, "and then Father declared you true born. You have a stronger claim to the throne then either of my nephews." "Aemond, don't be saying things like that," Aemma huffs. "Well, it's true," Aemond huffs back. "And who told you such things?" Aemma challenges. Again, Aemond said nothing.

"It was your mother wasn't it?" Aemma realized. "She didn't have to say anything," Aemond insists, "you've seen Jace and Luke. Anyone with eyes can see."

Aemma sighed before placing a hand on Aemond's shoulder, "even if these things are true, Aemond, we can't let it divide us. We are the house of the Dragon, we have to stand strong, or else we'll be torn apart. That's what your father says, does he not?" Aemond only turned his gaze away, refusing to say anything.

Aemma only sighed, "Jace and Luke are no more dragons then you or I. Last I recall, that's the only thing that matters in this family."

With that, Aemma, turned and left the library.

Later that day, Aemma was invited to supper with Rhaenyra who indulged in meat pies and apple juice along with cakes for dessert (she's near nine months pregnant, woman's entitled to a little vice). Aemma was content to sip some tea and nibble on some fruit while also indulging in some cake.

Although Aemma was still had faith in her cousin, she could feel Alicent's words haunt her in the back of her mind. She still couldn't imagine Rhaenyra was even capable of committing the act of kin slaying, even if it met protecting her claim to the throne. "Princess?" Aemma decides to speak. "Hmmm?" Rhaenyra nods as she sips some juice. Aemma wasn't sure what to think about what to even say. She didn't want Rhaenyra to accuse her of slander, or confront Alicent later on, especially in the state she was in now.

"I uh, I wanted to discuss something." "About what?" "Well," Aemma begins, "I wanted to know what married life is like." "You are concerned for your impending marriage to Aegon?" Rhaenyra asks to which Aemma nods. "It's just...Aegon and I...we used to play together as children, but now we've grown apart. I just don't know how we are to build a life together when the only time he'll spend with me is when his mother demands it of him. How am I to raise his children if he will not commit to his duties to me or to his offspring?"

Rhaenyra was silent for a moment before she gave an answer, "well since you are no longer a child, I may as well give you the truths that no one else seems to have the courage to say. A marriage is nothing more than duty, a political arrangement to form alliances and strengthen bonds between family lines. This is especially so for Highborn folk such as ourselves. For our house, many of our marriages have often been between brother and sister, cousins, and so forth, for the purpose of keeping our Valyrian blood pure. This is something your father had told me. It is different for a man then it is for a woman, however, and we women have to be more discrete in whatever...extra affairs we may carry out in our marriage, lest we hand over ammunition to those vultures in court to use against us." Aemma raised an eyebrow at that, "what do you suggest I do for my marriage, princess?" "...you merely do your duty," Rhaenyra answers, "gods willing, my half-brother will do the same...and then once you've produced a child or two, the two of you will do as you see fit."

"I must confess I am scared of the idea of being with child," Aemma admits. "Well, it's not all sunshine and roses, I'll give you that," Rhaenyra laughs a little, adjusting herself to be a little more comfortable, "especially in the last few months or so." "But, there's always the possibility I could die," Aemma says, "your mother died in the child bed. I was named after her...so what if that means I am to meet the same fate?" Rhaenyra places a comforting hand on Aemma's, "I won't let it come to that," she assures, "if you wish, I will be with you every step of the way the day of your labors."

Aemma smiled at that...she knew then and there that what Alicent had said about Rhaenyra was wrong. The princess did care about her as family, loved her as such. "Thank you," Aemma gives a small nod towards her cousin and the two finish their supper while making small talk.

----------later that night---------------

The hour was dark as Aemma slept for the first time in weeks.

When she felt herself start to slip into a dream state. There was something about this dream. It wasn't Rivia, it wasn't quite like what Aemma had seen before. It wasn't easy to describe but for one reason or another it felt strangely peaceful.

Aemma looked towards one place and another. It looked like a field of grass that seemed to stretch out for leagues. The princess stood there in a simple dress with no shoes. She looked around, having the urge to call out into the empty field, "hello?" she calls out, "Is anyone out there? Hello?"

Aemma looked to and fro once more. There was something off about this place, she sensed. She'd never been here before, she didn't even know where here was. She didn't believe it was anywhere in Westeros, not in the North, the Reach, or the River lands. And she didn't not believe she was on the Continent either.

Suddenly it had grown cold, and Aemma started to shiver. She's cold before, but this didn't feel natural. Frost and ice began to form as storm clouds began to gather.

Hearing shouts and jeers, Aemma turned around to see horses appear forth from a portal along with strange monsters made of ice. Atop the horses were men in armor...at least she thought they were men, they seemed awfully tall for the average human. Were they giants of some kind? Like the ones that are said to reside beyond the Wall in the North? The armor concealed their faces.

Aemma wasn't sure if she should run, but this strange army ran past her and the strange men spoke in a language she could not decipher.

They ran past her. Aemma was confused by this all, until she jumped from a hand being placed on her shoulder. The princess turned to see a woman with ashen hair, dressed in strange clothes, and a sword strapped to her back. Aemma did not recognize this woman, yet she felt they had met once before. "Who are you?" Aemma asks the young woman. "Who I am does not matter," the woman answers, "but now I must go. The Lark and the Wolf need my help."

"The Lark and-" Aemma turned to face this supernatural army. She saw a woman astride one of the horses, not dressed in armor like the strange men were. Aemma squinted to see get a better look. She felt she knew who the woman was.

"Mother?"

Aemma suddenly bolted from bed, panting slightly, as she looked back and forth, only to sigh in relief when she realized she was back in her room. She laid back down, relaxing somewhat. She still couldn't help but wonder what that dream was about.

But one thing she did feel was certain...her mother was somehow still alive.

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

The following morning, Aemma had wondered down the halls, intending to look for any texts at the library that may help explain what her dream meant.

On the way she bumped into Aegon, "excuse me, cousin," she says, quickly side stepping the teenage boy. "You don't seem all that well rested," Aegon notices. Aemma gave Aegon a confused look, wondering why he was suddenly taking an interest in her well-being...probably because his mother said so, "Just a fitful sleep last night is all." "Well I do hope those won't be recurring often once we share a bed of our own, my soon to be wife," Aegon says, a suggestive smirk on his face.

Aemma only rolled her eyes. "I am merely stating the truth," Aegon points out, "We are to be wed, cousin, have you forgotten?" "I have not forgotten," Aemma sneers, "but I was beginning to think you had. But what do you care? This marriage is only a political arrangement. I know when you're not doing as you mother bids, you'll do as you see fit...and so will I." "So...you attend to spread your legs for other men then?" Aegon challenges as Aemma walks away, "you would risk producing bastards? Like Princess Rhaenyra does...as did your mother?"

Aemma stopped in her tracks, "...don't you dare speak of my mother," she warns, "you did not know her." "Neither did you," Aegon sneers back, "you were only a tot when she left you." "She did not leave, she was abducted," Aemma insists, "she was going to come back." "If your mother was abducted, why did your father never make an effort to find her?" Aegon points out, "why not travel back this mystical Continent on top his dragon and rescue your maiden mother from that villainous White Wolf? If you ask me, I don't think he abducted her at all. I say she left with him willingly." "Stop it." "She probably spread her legs for him like the mutant loving whore that she was." "Take that back!" Aemma demands.

"No I won't," Aegon scoffs. "Take. It. BACK!" Aemma shoved Aegon.

"That's what your mother is, all she'll ever be," Aegon insists, refusing to back down, "and it's time you accept she left you to be with him. She was whore, first for your father and then for that white hair freak, and that's what it seems like what you intend to be. You were better off never knowing her, I say it was good that she died!"

At this moment, Aemma could only see red as she watch Aegon walk away. She growled like a wild animal, a dragon that had just woke. She yanked Aegon by the hair and shoved him to the ground before getting on him and proceeded to beat the shit out of her cousin.

Chapter 27

#hotd #the witcher #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond x oc #helaena targaryen #jacerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #laenor velaryon

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