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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months ago

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A Curse [Chapter 12: Mount Olympus] [Series Finale]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, illness/death/medical stuff, a totally relaxing and lovely destination wedding!

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

“So what’s your plan?” Jace asks as you peer into the tiny circular mirror of your makeup compact and manically blend out your eyeshadow, three shimmering earthen shades by NARS: Gold Rush, Ashes to Ashes, Valhalla. The flight attendants were kind enough to let you stuff yourself into your dress at the back of the plane; there wasn’t enough room in the bathroom. “You’ll wait until the priest does the whole ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ thing and then object in front of everybody?”

That is a horrifying prospect. “I think I can catch Aegon right before the ceremony, like when he’s walking from the hotel to the beach.”

Jace checks the time on his phone, raises his eyebrows, shakes his head. Through the window, you can see that the plane is descending through cumulus clouds—cotton-ball fluffs kicked up by the trade winds that blow in from the east—and the ground is moving closer, an island of emerald green foliage and shallow turquoise seawater before the plunging abyssal drop-off of the continental shelf.

“Maybe they’ll be running late,” you say hopefully.

“If sunset is at 7 p.m. like Google said, they won’t have much wiggle room. If they’re delayed longer than five or ten minutes, they’ll be getting married in the dark.”

“We can make it,” you insist, determined to will it into reality.

“And then you’re going to...what? Tell your old, rich, terminally ill agent that he should marry you instead?”

“I don’t really know what I’m going to say.” You’ve never been much of a planner. “But I’ll convince him to stop the wedding somehow. I’ll tell him how I feel.” I’ll be honest. I’ll be real.

Jace is skeptical. “Okay. Great.”

He scrolls through his phone; now the plane is low enough for him to get cell reception. You open Spotify and put in your earbuds, stare out the small oval-shaped window, and blast Lose Yourself as loud as it goes.

Turbulence, touchdown, taxiing to the gate; when the pilot indicates it is safe to move around the cabin, you and Jace are the first passengers in the aisle. The door opens and you sprint through Providenciales International Airport, blessedly small, only one terminal and nine gates. There are a line of taxis waiting outside for tourists. You and Jace scramble into one of them, tossing your small carry-on suitcases into the trunk. You give the taxi driver the name of the resort and several crumpled twenty-dollar bills yanked from your purse so he’ll rush. As swaying palm trees and an increasingly blood orange skyline rush by beyond the car window, you check the time on your phone: 6:19 p.m.

The resort is only ten minutes from the airport, but there is a long line of taxis waiting to drop off their passengers. You and Jace get out and start running, toting your rolling suitcases. You careen into the lobby, ask an alarmed employee where the wedding venue is, and are pointed to a set of automatic sliding glass doors. They open onto the beach, a vast stretch of sand and a grove of palm trees, and then in the distance—right at the brink of the glimmering dusk waves, as if they are about to topple in—you spy a hazy sea of people in white chairs and an archway shrouded in prismatic blooms of foreign, tropical flowers.

“That’s gotta be it, right?” Jace pants, but you’re already flying over the sand dunes, pitching and wobbling in your wedges, your suitcase bumping along as you drag it behind you. The sun is vanishing and the stars are coming out, tiny freckles of silver light in a rage-and-lilac sky. Gulls swoop and circle overhead. The glittering waves creep closer towards high tide. You over-rotate your left ankle as you stumble down an embankment of sand, and an old wound wakes back up like a dragon, like a vampire, a monster that opens flesh with fangs.

You and Jace stagger up to the edge of the ceremony, and elderly, scowling guests twist around in their wooden chairs to condemn your lateness. Under the archway at the front of the congregation, an officiant is standing with the happy couple in white. Becca is wearing one of those very expensive gowns that is supposed to look effortless: lace, strapless, clinging to all the right places. Aegon is in a linen suit that fits him perfectly, but the wind has torn his hair from its gel. He is holding a microphone and smiling as he tells the story of how he and Becca met. He hasn’t seen you yet.

“What are you doing?!” Jace whispers to you. “Say you object!”

“I think that part already happened,” you say. Then you sink numbly into an empty chair and after a moment, Jace sits down beside you. The nearby guests frown disapprovingly as you both gasp for air after your futile race across shifting sand, your hair disheveled and your clothes damp with sweat, your electric yellow gown that Baela once criticized as being a prom dress, Jace’s Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. You awkwardly shove your suitcases under your chairs. And you think, tears stinging in your eyes, ocean wind burning in your lungs: I’m too late.

“It was a charity gala in Encino. She had a date and I had a date,” Aegon is saying, and an endeared chuckle rolls through the audience. “But Becca brought one of those miniature lint rollers in her purse, and she ended up following me around all night trying to fix my suit. That really left an impression on me, how attentive she was, how naturally giving and kind. And by the time the party was over, we had somehow both abandoned our respective dates.” More laughter, more charmed, yearning sighs. I shouldn’t be here, you think; it’s not something meant for you to see. These are the phantoms of someone else’s past, they’re the bricks of a future that has nothing to do with you.

Now Becca has the microphone, and she’s talking about how she saw Aegon’s movies when she was young but she never believed she’d meet him in real life, but then she did and it was like her wildest dreams had come true because he was so handsome and funny and smart, and he filled her home with a warmth she’d never known before.

I want to leave, you think; but then Aegon spots you from where he stands under the blooming archway and he beams, the dying light radiant on his face, and gives you a little wave. Like a reflex, you smile back. What else can you do? Then Aegon’s eyes flick to Jace and he frowns and turns his attention back to Becca.

Becca is telling the guests that she and Aegon are a team, and that they are facing his diagnosis together. In reply, there are solemn nods and murmurs of admiration. Far from you, up in the front row, you spot Aemond—black suit, tidy hair despite the breeze—leaning over to whisper something to his mother, who is dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex from a travel-sized pack. Becca is saying she is honored that Aegon chose her to be his partner at this crucial juncture in his life. She is saying that she won’t let him down.

The rings are brought forth by a lumbering, wheezing Pekingese with a small velvet pouch tied to its collar. The officiant pronounces them husband and wife. The couple kiss, Becca smiling as her long dark tresses blow in the wind, still somehow miraculously untangled and frizzless, Aegon perhaps a little sheepish, breaking the kiss first. The crowd applauds and the bride and groom are escorted away by a fleet of photographers to take pictures. The rest of you are led off to the cocktail hour, a large white tent full of tiny tables and surrounded by torches that provide beacons of flickering light as the last rays of sun vanish from the sky.

Jace orders a beer from the open bar; you get a lemon drop you barely touch. Waiters weave among the guests with trays of Caribbean hors d’oeuvres: Johnnycakes, conch fritters, jerk chicken on skewers, plantain chips with mango salsa, coconut shrimp, curried mussels. A troop of hired musicians are playing maracas, box guitars, and conga drums.

“What are we going to do now?” Jace asks.

From a corner of the tent, you’re staring vacuously at where Helaena is dancing with her children, laughing, twirling, jumping up and down. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, are you still going to try to talk to him, or...?”

“I don’t know, Jace.”

“We need a hotel for the night, so we should make reservations somewhere. And those plane tickets were roundtrip, right?”

“Yeah. We’re flying back tomorrow.”

“Because your movie starts filming on Monday.”

“It does.”

Jace whistles. “Busy weekend.”

You’re not confident you can reply without crying, so you don’t say anything.

“Well,” Jace says. “If you need anything, I’ll be over by the build-your-own-taco bar.”

You check your phone: nothing but five missed calls from your parents. They must have seen you charge the plane tickets to your credit card. You swallow noisily and then ask Jace in a miserable squeak: “Can you please make a reservation somewhere? I’ll pay you back.”

“Okay.”

“Not this resort.”

He smirks beneath somber eyes, like he pities you. “Got it.” He saunters off, then immediately returns. “Wait. The only credit card I have on me is Baela’s, and they make you show ID when you check in.”

You sigh. “Forget it. I’ll handle the reservation.” If my parents haven’t frozen my card by then.

“Cool,” Jace says, and is gone again.

You lurk in the corner Googling hotels and sipping your lemon drop, waiting for Aegon to reappear. There is a group of beautiful, influencer-type women nearby, drinking champagne and taking turns snapping photos of each other in front of an elaborate flower display and issuing stern directions: Move to the right, fix your hair, your hand looks weird when you put it there. In the center of the flowers, there is a glowing pink neon sign that reads happiness.

“Oh my God, it’s so sad,” one of the women says as she scrolls through the pictures her friends just took of her, searching for the perfect image to post.

“So sad,” the others mutter in agreement.

“Like, Becca is absolutely incredible for what she’s doing.”

“Can you imagine?” a woman in a short orange dress muses. “Sneaking around to surprise your fianc�� with his-and-hers ancestry test results, freaking swabbing his cheek for DNA while he’s asleep, thinking you’re going to bond over both being part Italian or something, only to find out he’s dying?”

One of the friends looks at her a tad smugly. “Becca did tell you she was Native American.”

Orange dress lady rolls her eyes. “She’s like two percent!”

Becca breezes into the tent and is immediately descended upon by fawning wedding guests, who gush over her dress and her vows as they gulp champagne and nibble on hors d’oeuvres. From across the room her eyes meet yours—only for a moment—and she grins, incandescently triumphant. She won, in even more ways than she knows.

Where’s Aegon?

You peer around the tent; he doesn’t appear to have returned with Becca. You find all the members of Aegon’s immediate family, and you find his former clients Steve, Fatima, and Angus...but you can’t find him.

Is he still outside? Is he alone?

You watch Becca mingling with guests until she turns so that her back is to you, and then you slip out of the tent and into the night, torchlight and moonlight and the endless opaque sheen of the Atlantic Ocean. You don’t see anyone.

Where would photographers take romantic sunset wedding pictures?

Right by the water, of course. You trot down towards the waves, your wedges slipping on the sand, your left ankle throbbing. You pause to take off your wedges and carry them instead.

“Aegon?” you call, but all you hear in reply is the dull primordial roar of the ocean.

You keep walking, gingerly stepping around fractured seashells that could cut your bare feet, and then at last you find him at the water’s edge: pensive, sitting with his legs crossed and his white linen suit filthy with wet sand, chomping on a piece of Juicy Fruit.

Aegon looks over and smiles weakly. “Hey, sunshine.”

“Hi.” You plop down next to him, your yellow dress billowing out around you: V-neck, voluminous tulle ruffles, a high-low hemline that stops in the front just above your knees. The air is hot, humid, threaded with distant sounds of laughter and music; the stars are getting brighter. “You know where you’re supposed to be right now, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I told Becca I needed a minute to decompress. It’s good to see you.” And then Aegon adds, a joke with something weary and aching underneath: “Although I don’t think I invited your boyfriend.”

“So guess what.”

“What?”

“Jace is actually my roommate Baela’s boyfriend.”

Aegon is taken aback; then he absorbs it and chuckles, delighted. “And that’s why he went back to your apartment after the gala. Not because you’re fucking.”

“Exactly.”

“Why’d he fly all the way out here with you?”

You shrug. “He’s bored. He’s unemployed. He misses Baela and needs a distraction. He likes free food. And we might sort of be friends now.”

Aegon nods and gazes out over the ocean; when calm waves break and bubble up over the sand, the froth covers your feet. Under the moonlight, you can see the deepening creases around his eyes, the weight that he’s lost in his cheeks, all the small ways in which he is disappearing. You wish you could touch him; you don’t know if he’d want that. “I thought I would feel relieved afterwards, like I knew I made the right decision,” Aegon says after a while. “But I just feel the same way I did when I woke up this morning.”

“How did you feel this morning?”

“Like I missed you.”

You peer down at the sand, where you have been drawing tiny stars without realizing it. “Aegon, I didn’t come to Turks and Caicos to watch you get married,” you confess. “I came here to change your mind. But I was too late.”

He looks at you, startled. “What were you going to say?”

I hadn’t decided yet, you think, but of course now you’re out of time. You take a deep breath and begin. “I was going to tell you that I have read and watched more about Huntington’s disease in the past three weeks than I’ve ever learned about anything, and there was never a second when I felt that I didn’t want to be with you through all of it.”

Aegon shakes his head and studies the waves, his blonde hair blowing in the wind, his turbulent blue eyes glistening.

“And I wouldn’t give up acting,” you continue. “I would film my movie, and I would do the promo stuff, and then I would...you know...I might slow down for a little while so I could spend time with you while you’re still...while you’re still really here. Not because you need me to, or because I feel obligated, but because I want to. You’re the only person who believed in me. I believe in you too. I believe you still have a lot of good days left. ”

Now Aegon is watching you again, his face unreadable. The low omnipresent rumble of the ocean fills every gap, every microcosm silence.

“And we could do IVF and have a healthy baby, and you’d be able to meet them, and your family and I would have them forever, and I know they’d be wonderful because you are. They’d be kind and warm and real, and the world would be better off with pieces of you in it. And when you’re dead...” Your voice breaks and you have to stop, close your eyes, collect yourself. Then you press on determinedly. “When you’re dead, Aegon, I’ll be in my thirties, I’ll be younger than you are now, and I’ll have my whole life ahead of me. So don’t think that you’re taking anything away from me because you’re not. You’re giving me the time you have left. And I could never think you’re a curse.”

Then suddenly you can read him: he has seen this vision too, he has haunted this ghost-life from corners and doorways, he has longed savagely to inhabit it. “You have to put me away somewhere when I get bad,” he says quietly. “I’ll pick a place and you’ll put me there, and you won’t visit, and you’ll protect people from me. Yourself, my family, our child.”

“I will,” you promise, not sure that you are telling the truth.

“Okay,” Aegon says.

“Okay...? What does that mean?”

“It worked. You’ve convinced me.” He smiles and takes your hand, the one that has been drawing stars in the sand. “Let’s go home.”

“But you just got married.”

“That’s not always a permanent condition, sunshine,” Aegon says, and when he kisses you the warmth of it is all-consuming, and you are home in a way you never were with anyone else, not in Minnesota, not even in Los Angeles, and this is a place that once you’ve found you can never leave. Your fingers are grasping the white linen of his suit jacket, drawing him closer, needing every minute he has left. He tastes like Juicy Fruit, sweet and bright like sunlight. His hands are gliding beneath the weightless tulle ruffles of your yellow gown.

You protest with your words, though not with your body: “Aegon, it’s your wedding night.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, your face, your throat. “It’s insane, it’s wrong, it’s impulsive, but I love you. And I don’t want to waste any time. And my dick is working right now, so...”

You laugh as you fall back onto the sand, waves nipping at your bare feet, Aegon whisking away your silk panties, positioning himself between your thighs, discovering that you are already wet; you know exactly what he’s going to do for you, you have no doubts where he will take you.

“I appreciate how easy this dress is to get under,” Aegon is purring through your windswept hair as you moan, the sand cool and soft beneath you.

“You remember the limo?”

“I remember the limo very fondly.”

You are tugging off his suit jacket and wrestling with the buttons of the shirt underneath. He is yanking the straps of your dress off your shoulders, needing to see you, to touch you, to taste the salt of the sea spray on your skin, to know for the first time that who he loves is who he’ll get to keep.

“Oh fuck,” Aegon sighs, dropping his head in defeat. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I can’t get pregnant tonight,” you tell him in a breathless rush. “I’m getting my period in like two days, I already have cramps, my uterus is useless. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And he’s here again, grinning, euphoric, lost in you. He sees the stars you’ve drawn in the sand, then glances up at the night sky full of constellations. “Stars above, stars below,” he whispers, and kisses you deeply, his hips rocking as he eases into you—slow, kind, perfect—and neither of you are going to last long tonight, and that’s okay. You’ll have other nights. You have more time.

There is a horrified shriek and then an emptiness as Aegon pulls away from you, and you turn to see her standing on the sand: Becca with her white lace wedding gown, rings sparkling on her left hand, a long dark shock of hair that streams out behind her as gales of wind blow in off the Atlantic Ocean.

“Becca,” Aegon begins.

“You bitch!” she hisses, and then dives for you, hands clawing, teeth bared. You scream and hide behind Aegon, cowering on the sand as he stands and fixes his pants, holding up his palms to stop his wife. When she tries to skirt around him to get to you, he blocks her. “You can’t do this,” Becca tells him, and now she’s sobbing. “There are things I can look the other way for, but this, Aegon, this?! It’s our wedding. It’s our day. Send her home. Make her leave now.”

“Becca, this isn’t going to work.”

“What are you talking about?! We’re married!”

“And I thought that was the right thing to do.” Aegon’s voice is calm, patient, apologetic...but unmovable. “I really, really did. But I was wrong.”

Becca is thunderstruck. “But I’m the one you chose,” she says. “I’m the person you want to spend your last years with. You could have had anyone, but you chose me. Not her, not your family, but me. Because I’m the one you trust, I’m the one who has earned this. Because you love me more than any of the others.”

In reply, there is only Aegon’s silence, only these sounds: the ocean, the wind, the faint far-off festivities of the cocktail hour.

When Becca speaks, her voice is frail and childlike. “But I did everything right.”

“I didn’t,” Aegon says. “But I’m going to try to from here on out.”

She reels backwards, several unsteady steps in her flat sandals that glint with crystals. She touches her hands to her face, like she’s hoping it will wake her up. “This can’t be happening.”

“Becca, I am so sorry. About everything.” And in his words is the weight of every wrong he’s ever inflicted on her, the absence of everything she was denied. There is no changing the history; there are only new pages to be written. “You deserve someone who can give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she pitches at him, snarling through tears. “I can’t believe you. I hate you.” And then she whirls and flees: kicking up sand, weeping as she wonders what she’ll tell her friends.

Aegon exhales, collapses onto the sand, rubs his face and drags his fingers through his hair. You reach for him, a palm to his chest, bare from where you opened his shirt. Beneath your hand, his heartbeat is thunderous. “Aegon...are you alright?”

“I’m going to have a lot of uncomfortable conversations in about ten minutes,” he says. Then he turns to you, cradles the curve of your jaw, ghosts his thumbprint across your lips. “But I’d like to stay here with you until then.”

And there as the frothing star-speckled waves soak your gown and Aegon’s suit, he finishes what he started; and you finish too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flashbulbs strobe and reporters clamor. On the red carpet, you pose for photographs with Santiago, Chloe, Dusty, and a dozen other people from the cast and crew. You wear a Versace ballgown, massive and gold and glittering. You chose your eyeshadow to match: Too Faced and Natasha Denona, Golden Light and Ray.

The film wasn’t out of post-production in time for Sundance, Berlin, or South by Southwest, but it was ready for Cannes in May, and now Tribeca at the start of June. Next will be Venice, and then Toronto, and then the long march of awards season in the fall and winter. The nationwide theatrical release will be in July. There is already Oscar buzz; film critics are writing that you are all but guaranteed a Best Actress nomination.

Reporters are shouting your name, because they know who you are now. You have a very lucrative advertising campaign with Cold Stone Creamery. You did a segment on Good Morning America where you taught the hosts how to make ice cream, giggling as they spilled sprinkles and Oreo pieces all over the floor. Your Grey’s Anatomy episode was one of the highest-rated of the season. Sometimes when you’re out and about in Los Angeles, people will ask you for autographs. When you see pictures or video clips of yourself, you are effervescent, ever-smiling; you don’t even remember doing it. It’s just what happens.

“Can you tell us what this experience has been like for you?” a cheerful correspondent from E! News asks as she holds a microphone to your glossy red lips. “Going from being completely unknown to a breakout star in just the past few months?”

“I’m so grateful for everyone who has helped me get to this point,” you say. “On this film, I got to work with people who were so passionate and genuine and kind, and it really affirmed my faith in what I’m doing with my life, and that I belong in this industry, and that so does anybody else who has a dream even if no one believes in you yet. You just have to find people who believe in you. I have a wonderful agent, her name is Kristen, and my manager Tim, and my stylist Aurora, who indulges all my super uncool ideas...I am so thankful to have a team who are working so hard every day to make this possible.”

“And I’ve heard you have a certain nickname on set, is that right?”

You chuckle and nod. “It is, yeah.”

“People you work with call you Sunshine, because of your enthusiasm and positivity!”

“My husband started that,” you say, beaming. “When we met, almost exactly a year ago. And then I guess he did it so much that other people started picking up on it.”

“Well, it certainly suits you. And your husband...he’s here tonight, isn’t he? I think I spotted him around here somewhere...um...oh yes, there he is! Hi, Aegon!”

He waves from the sidelines, butter yellow suit, sand-colored hair slicked back from his face. He walks with a cane now, because he’s getting unsteady on his feet; but you found one that makes him smile. In the spherical knob of the handle, transparently clear glass, is suspended a Mario figurine leaping up to catch a star. Brandon, who is standing with Aegon, waves too. He has been promoted from receptionist to executive personal assistant, which means that he and his boyfriend were able to purchase a house in Venice Beach. When you’re working, Brandon makes sure that Aegon doesn’t lose track of time, or forget how to get somewhere, or lose his phone or his keys or anything like that. At home in Los Angeles, Aegon is still holding on to his office in Elysian Park. When he’s feeling good—clear, bright, in control—he makes calls to help out aspiring actors he bumps into. Other times, he just plays his Nintendo 64, exercising his motor skills to keep them for as long as he can. And then when you’re free you pick him up for ice cream, or In-N-Out Burger, or lunch beside a tank of antagonistic oscars in Chinatown.

“And how do you feel about how well this film is being received?” the E! News correspondent asks. “Its rollout is just getting started, and it’s already generating so much publicity! That must be very exciting for you. I’m sure you’re being offered roles all the time now.”

“It’s such an honor, every review, every award, it shows the cast and crew who poured so much into this movie that their efforts and talents are being recognized. But you know...” You hesitate. “I think...for me personally...it’s really nice to feel like I’ve proven myself with this project, and that if I want to take some time off to spend with my husband, I have that flexibility. I can dip in and out of acting and take the roles I feel I have the bandwidth for, and know that something like this—an extremely inspiring and fulfilling but also demanding role that requires travel and long hours—is always there waiting when the time is right.”

“Of course, of course,” the woman from E! News says, her tone sympathetic. Everyone is aware of Aegon’s diagnosis, though they are usually tactful enough not to mention it outright. They also politely ignore the messy timeline: a destination wedding, a clearly unamicable split, another marriage the day after the divorce was finalized. In the aftermath of what happened on Turks and Caicos, Becca cut her hair and posted a number of angry poems on her blog with titles like The World’s Shortest Marriage and Deleted Pinterest Boards, but she recently started dating a Formula 1 driver five years her junior and she seems to be doing a lot better.

It’s time to go inside. You profusely thank the E! News correspondent and say goodbye, then Aegon joins you so you can walk into the screening together, his palm on the small of your back, you leaning into him to whisper: “Did I do okay?”

And Aegon slides his black aviator sunglasses out of his suit jacket and puts them on—You are so bright, sunshine—and smiles proudly as he kisses your cheek. You wear matching gold bands on your ring fingers, simple and subtle and etched with suns and stars.

Afterwards, you fly home to your house on Apollo Drive in a neighborhood called Mount Olympus, just west of Hollywood and east of Beverly Hills, a quick hop southeast on the 101 to Elysian Park, less than an hour from the Targaryen mansion in Malibu when traffic isn’t too bad. The house, built in the 1960s, was a relatively modest two million dollars, three bedrooms and all one story so Aegon can get around when he needs a wheelchair. He has a residential long-term care facility picked out for when he is in the late stages, and you and Aemond lie adamantly and say you’ll send him there, because that’s what Aegon wants to hear.

On the mantle above the fireplace, there is a vase full of dried sunflowers and a plethora of framed photographs from your courthouse wedding: Brandon and his boyfriend, Jace and Baela (still a bit flabbergasted that you made it after all), your new best friend Chloe, Aegon’s mother and siblings smiling, your parents shellshocked but nonetheless hell-bent on making a good impression, Tripp toasting champagne with Daeron, Clara glowering because you somehow managed to beat her to the altar. If you have the first grandchild, she might actually kill you.

Now you and Aegon are in the waiting room, early for your appointment, and a soft dreamy Red Hot Chili Peppers song called If is plucking from the Spotify playlist the receptionist has pulled up on her computer screen. You reach into your purse to get the snacks you packed, because you’re always trying to put weight on Aegon the same way he once plied you with vanilla lattes and Cherry Cokes and boneless spare ribs and cheeseburgers...and still does sometimes, when he remembers. He takes a Honeycrisp apple and feels the weight of it, marvels at the red skin striped with green and gold, recognizes the absence of a recollection, something he describes to you as a black void he falls into, chasms that open up in floors and sidewalks.

“There’s a story with these,” Aegon says.

You smile. “Yeah, there is.”

“Remind me?”

“Later.”

He grins and winks. “Not suitable for public conversation. I get it.” And he bites into the crisp sweet flesh, juice shining on his lips, and then he offers you the apple: an indelible muscle memory, a moment that still lives in him somewhere. You take a bite over the same spot, your tongue and teeth grazing the outline of him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen?” a nurse says, summoning you, and you follow her to the doctor’s office.

When you only have a few years with someone, every day is a gold rush. And so weeks ago when Aegon did his sperm collection, you went with him into the room, straddled his lap and stroked him until he finished into the plastic cup, his fingers between your legs, your lips to his ear; because when he can get hard, neither of you want to waste it. Your contribution—follicle stimulation and egg retrieval—was less pleasant. The hormones made you feel like a stranger in your own skin, sluggish and gloomy, and you were sore after the procedure. But Aegon was wonderful, ordering takeout and snuggling with you on the couch as you watched the Twilight movies together and giggled about how ridiculous they are.

He had murmured like an apology: “It’s my fault we can’t do this the way normal people do.”

“Yeah. I wish you could just come in me four times a day.”

And he had burst out laughing, because he loves the way you put things: too much honesty, effortlessly real.

Today, the doctor has results: four viable embryos, three of which tested positive for the HTT gene mutation. But one is healthy; one has broken the curse.

“What do you think?” Aegon asks you; but the hope is so bright on his face, a life he once believed was forbidden.

“I think we should do it,” you answer.

The doctor congratulates you both and slides the necessary paperwork across the desk. Aegon’s hand begins to shake as he signs his name. You reach out to steady him; he looks at you and smiles.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader

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babey-fruit-bat · 6 months ago

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Molliter Nix Cadit - Softly the Snow Falls

Caracalla goes to great lengths to cure your home sickness, in more ways than one 💍🎄🥂✨

Please Note:

Slight time skip, fast slow-burn, strangers to lovers

Not sure if this will be OOC for Caracalla- author has not seen movie but has seen some spoilers - I heard Dondus is a boy in the movie- author took creative liberties and she’s a gal now

Reader wears braids in hair and is referred to as female- no other descriptors !! Viking/Norse communities ‘adopted’ people from all walks of life and never had just one ‘look’

Language translations list at the end of story (It’s just Google translate rip) xx

🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️

Rome seemed worlds away from your home the closer and closer you got to city center

The sounds, smells, and colors were dulled to your senses as you were brought before the young emperors through the palace gates

Your home in the North had seen much destruction, not from the romans, but other enemy ships and villages

And so you’d fled away with other young woman and children in hopes of peace, of freedom

You should have known it wouldn’t be so simple

You stood facing petty theft from a roman carriage with food, you plead in your broken tongue as best you could for them to spare you- the bread in your hands ripped and flung away

It was fate that Geta had allowed Caracalla to bring Dondus to the city hearings today to keep his boredom and episodes at bay- she was usually always able to calm him

The bread landed close to the emperors feet and Dondus leapt down at once, never one to turn away a snack

With tears in your eyes you watched as a pet was allowed the full loaf over you and you hung your head in defeat- your fate was in their hands

Ever the lady, Dondus ran to share a piece of bread with her master, looking at you with her wide eyes

Caracalla took the piece of bread and popped it in his mouth before speaking

“Where is she from? She’s not Roman, nor Greek?”

A guard bowed and spoke “She hails from the North, the savage lands”

His eyes glittered darkly realizing she was so far from home, from family or friends- only you, all alone, and what was a poor girl to do? Caracalla could use some fun, he’d tired from the same concubines and you looked so different from any Roman citizens

Your hair in serval braids marking victories over your enemies while on the road, dark eye makeup and clothing to blend into the grey, cold Earth- you stuck out like a sore thumb in the richly colored city

He declared no harm to fall you and ensured you’d be treated as his guest, Geta rolled his eyes but had no objection to his brothers latest conquest

Caracalla had you and your few belongings moved to a room in his wing of the palace- gifting you every finery the next morning, including a glorious rose water bath and large breakfast right to your bedside.

After you were dressed in the softest rose shades, complimenting your figure draped in glittering finery

You saw little of him throughout the first weeks dedicating time to learn the roman culture and language.

When the servants found you presentable he had you accompany him throughout the day.

Between meetings and social gatherings you felt as much of a pet as lady Dondus, who affectionately rode on your shoulder most evenings.

It was one evening she joined you in your room, both resting on a table as you scribbled away in a journal.

You’d written so many stories from your first day and escaping death to the witness of gladiator tournaments and the place gardens.

It felt as though you’d entered your own Valhalla and praised your Gods for a safe journey. The solstice was approaching and though the Romans had their own celebrations and Gods you’d not forgotten yourself or family.

It was a quiet, early morning, not even the servants had rose out of bed

Caracalla, unable to sleep his mind plagued- and venturing out of bed, found you weeping in the gardens. The pines set out for Saturnalia so similar and different to yours back home

He sat softly next to you bringing you close in a warm embrace, wrapping an outer layer of his toga over you keeping you warm on the stone bench

“Why do you weep, Dulcissima?”

Your journal beside you, you’d opened the page with your writing about the winter solstice- ‘Yule- the Winter Solstice” is what you called it

Visions of spiced cakes, roasted meats, ale and mead, every recipe you could remember, drawings of Yule decorations and traditions, gift giving and the stationary scent of dried oranges hit Caracalla full force

Not only inviting him into your small world but realizing you were terribly homesick, the festivities of Saturnalia looking so similar were no help to your sorrow

He was determined to do everything in his power to impress you with a Yule festival fit for a Goddess

It was a week of strait planning and preparation, forgoing his formal duties in favor of planning the perfect feast.

He’d demanded the largest pines found in the city displayed in the grand hall of the palace

Droves of servants rapidly created ornaments, bits, and bobbles made of metal by the hundreds, placing each one on the tree with care despite the task at hand

Meticulous effort went into creating each recipe to perfection, in Caracalla’s eyes nothing was good enough, he’d tasted every dish and hoped it was close enough to your meals back home

You arose the day of the festival, maids preparing the bath in Caracalla’s room and leading you in, scrubbed down with rich oils of vanilla, cinnamon, clove and cherry

You were dried and dressed in a deep green and gold stola with a soft white fur collared cape

Your hair was styled in sweeping, grand braids with gold pieces and a pine wreath replaced the traditional laurel

You felt like a Goddess dressed so nicely for what felt like the most magical day

You’d spent your time the past week crafting a gift for Caracalla, a beautiful new blade, bronzed handle engraved with the sacred runic words Viska, Sigur, and Ast, the last word you’d treasured the most

You found yourself growing fonder and fonder of Caracalla’s company and the time he made for you each day grew longer and longer

He’d said he found it impossible to stay away from you- plucking the nearest flower down to place behind your ear the first month of your stay

That memory felt so familiar now as Caracalla met you on the steps “You look divine, Carissima - You’ll outshine all here!”

You could say the same for him, looking nothing less than regal in a long emerald toga and donned a golden laurel

You blushed as you took his arm guiding you to the grand hall with a confident stride, the tree aglow with candle light and strung with red berries

You delighted all night sharing a large feast, music, you friends company and relished the grandeur Calla had spent so much effort to display for you

He made you feel welcome, invited and included- he warmed you from the inside out

As the festivities died down he pulled you aside to the gardens, they were decorated with silver and gold garland illuminated by the moonlight

You walked hand in hand stopping at a stone bench with a cover when a light snow began to fall

“It seems you’ve brought Aquilo’s spirt to Rome this season- it was a wonder I found you” he sighed caressing your face

You grabbed his hand lifting your gaze to his “It seems that Rome is becoming more like home the longer I stay”

“I have one more surprise for you, Dulcissima!” He whispered excitedly, leaning closer to you “Dondus?”

You gazed up a she dropped down to a lower branch and dropped a bundle of leaves into his hand before scurrying off for more treats from the grand hall

“Have you ever heard the story of visci, Cor Meum?” He said, taking you hand once more

You shook your head never hearing this story but recognizing the plant and the tradition it carried back home you hoped his story would lead you down the same path

You giggled with a blush as he pulled you in by the waist holding the bundle over your head “Let me show you, Carissima” his lips moulding perfectly to yours in an unbreakable kiss

It seemed to last a lifetime in only a few moments and he knew he could have no other in his life

“Mea Omnia please be mine? I’ll give you anything you could desire- you’ll want for nothing except to spend you days committed to your passions- I’ll treasure you always. With you by my side I will be unstoppable in every way- Make me feel alive- whole. Become my Empress?” He held a crafted ring with delicately placed emeralds surrounding a lavish diamond in the center, inside was carved the symbols of Mars and Venus- a true work of art.

A soft gasp left you, eyes welling with tears at his truest, most vulnerable confession

“Of course my Calla! How could I turn away your love, your bewitching displays of affection? You see me as I am and who I am becoming, as I see you” you pulled out your gift to him, the dagger embellished with your language, a sacred blessing for you lover

“It’s blesses the wielder with wisdom, victory, and love, things you now have much success in” you said, a giddy lilt in your voice. He swung you around laughing softly holding you close and slipping your ring on your hand

“I shall wield it every day if I must, vanquish anyone who would try and take you away from me!” He taunted and slipped the dagger into an inner pocket

Now strolling arm in arm again he pulled you in for another kiss, the snow softly coating you both in the silent, perfect night

🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️🕊️🎄🥂🕯️

Anyways!! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed xx

📜Tag list: @doodle-with-rhy @s-lverwing @certifiedcodbabygirl

Language Translations:

Title - Molliter Nix Cadit - Softly the Snow Falls

Dulcissima - Sweetest

Carissma - Dearest

Viska, Sigur, and Ast - Wisdom, Victory, Love

Aquilo - Roman God of winter and the North wind

Visci - Mistletoe

Cor Meum - My Heart

Mea Omnia - My Everything

#emperor caracalla headcanons #emperor caracalla x reader #Caracalla fanfaction #emperor caracalla #carcalla x reader #caracalla fluff

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heckling-hydrena · 3 months ago

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in my mind gaolers can live for hundreds of years but their life expectancy is completely fucked because it's considered dishonorable to Not die fighting a shade beast in your 20s. it's like a requirement to join gaoler valhalla

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year ago

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I love your Pokémon x ROR work. Can I ask for something similar but instead of fighting during ragnarok, the Gods and humans meet some of the Pokémon outside of battle? Like intimidating ones like Charizard to cuter ones like Pikachu who’s still pretty strong. They’re confused on how to handle these creatures they’ve never seen before then out comes teen!reader who happens to be their trainer who easily takes over the situation. It be funnier with the gods reacting to a human child being able to tame and bond with the scarier Pokémon aswell

-You hadn’t meant to cause harm or panic in Valhalla, you had found a large park, one that was perfect for a picnic and relaxing, as you wanted to take a break with your team, who came to Valhalla with you after you passed in a rockslide accident.

-The park was perfect, there was a huge lake for your Gyarados to swim around in, and lots of room for your other Pokemon to run around, climb trees, or rest under trees in the shade, and just enjoy their second chance in this new life.

-You hadn’t realized that Pokemon weren’t something common in Valhalla, only god like ones, legendries, so when your Pokemon all ran off to go and have fun, they caused a lot of panic.

-Your Sylveon, Pikachu, and Mimikyu remand together, running off into a busy district where they were quickly surrounded by gods and humans, curious as to who they were.

-Qin Shi Huang kneeled down, looking curious as he held one hand to his chin, “Hmm I’ve never seen creatures like this before.” He held out his hand and Sylveon called out happily, saying her name as her ribbons stretched out, grabbing onto his hand, as if shaking it.

-Ares was kneeling next to Pikachu, doing the same and Pikachu scurried up his arm, sitting on his shoulder, calling out happily while made so many grin on how cute it was.

-Jack was looking at Mimikyu, who had an uneasy feeling about him, like he was something dangerous as Jack tried to read him, “Hmm how curious- it looks much like that one, but it’s different.”

-He touched Mimikyu’s head, to find it only to be a disguise, flopping over, breaking it. Instantly Mimikyu was crying, dark shadows coming from underneath it’s disguise, crying out loudly.

-Jack did his best to apologize, but seeing the dark shadows quickly had many running, Pikachu had nearly been knocked off Ares’ shoulders, but he caught him before, “Pik-a CHU!!!!” and lightning surrounded him and the war god, making Ares’ skeleton visible as he was electrocuted.

-Sylveon was chill in Hades’ arms now, while still holding onto QSH, looking completely unbothered as she called out, telling the other two to calm down.

-Many were prepared to fight these strange creatures, thinking they were a threat as Ares was twitching on the ground, charred before they heard, “Hey you guys! You were supposed to stay in the park!”

-The three instantly called out, seeing you running over and jaws dropped, seeing a child as the three Pokemon ran over to you, calling out happily, Mimikyu scurrying up your arm and held you around your neck, hugging you.

-Hades was polite, inquiring about your creatures and you told them that they were Pokemon, your partners, and after explaining what Pokemon were, many calmed down, as they had seen them before, just not ones like this.

-You apologized to Ares who told you he was fine, just shocked, literally, that Pikachu was so strong! You went to speak before you heard another of your Pokemon call out and you turned, seeing Snorlax gorging himself at an outdoor restaurant, “Snorlax!!”

-They all followed you over to the massive Pokemon who called out happily, seeing you while you apologized to the restaurant staff who were fine, as Snorlax didn’t break anything, he was just eating his fill on the endless food that was available.

-Hercules was impressed, “This is one of yours too?” you beamed, putting a hand on Snorlax’ belly, “Yup- this is my cuddly fat boy- isn’t that right?” Snorlax, hearing your pet name, pulled you into his arms, hugging you close which made you laugh.

-You recalled him into his Pokeball, followed by the others before you heard Gyarados calling out loudly, as if he was ready to fight as the sky darkened, “Oh no!”

-You all turned, seeing the lake in the park, seeing Gyarados stretching out of it, glaring down at Lu Bu, who was holding halberd, looking feral himself, ready for a fight as everyone scrambled after you as you shouted out Gyarados’ name.

-Seeing this massive Pokemon instantly calming down, hearing your voice, turning from this human that seemed so adamant to fight him, lowering his head as you leapt, hugging at his face.

-Jack was in awe, seeing this massive creature being so gentle with you while Lu Bu was pouting that you took away his opportunity to fight something strong.

-You recalled Gyarados back in as you apologized to everyone for causing so much trouble before Hercules pointed back at where a picnic was set up, your picnic, “What about that one?”

-You turned, seeing Charizard snoozing on the blanket, fast asleep and you beamed, “That’s my Charizard! He likes to sleep a lot but he’s just as strong as any of my Pokemon!”

-Charizard, hearing his name, woke up, sitting up and yawned loudly before walking over, hugging you from behind as you told your tale about how you died, taking your Pokemon with you, and now you were all here in Valhalla.

-Charizard rested his head on top of your own, still looking a bit sleepy, but Jack, Hercules, Lu Bu, and Ares were all easily able to tell that he was insanely strong, despite looking so unassuming.

-You were happy to have them all join your picnic, calling all your partners back out, telling them to behave this time, as you talked about your world, about all the different types of Pokemon you had seen, which they enjoyed.

-You were only a child, but you were a warrior, just a different type of warrior then what they were used to, but that didn’t make you any less of one and they wanted to know more about you, and what drove you to become a trainer.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror hades #ror qin shi huang #ror heracles #ror jack the ripper #ror ares #ror lu bu

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austins-writings · 13 days ago

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He walks in the direction of the garden, where he and the master of the home once roamed. Where they sat beneath the evergreen and spoke about him taking Holy Orders. George feels the heavy weight of the cassock dwindle away, like water falling from his person. He walks through the arch of trees and grass crunches beneath his feet. For a moment, he hears a whistle through the air, as if an arrow has been let loose. There is a pressure upon his back; the left side, and it pushes through his cloak. A sting, a momentary sting and then blood. He does not look back at the crowd that has gathered at his execution, rather, he falls to the ground beneath the evergreen glade. He had once read a story of Valhalla to the children, of a place where the brave go when they die. But now, he thinks, there is no place more fitting for a martyr than the shade of the trees he shared with his lover.

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sparksprout · 6 months ago

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Imagine that there is a realtor for the afterlife, showing souls their options for residence.

"Valhalla is known for grand halls. Note, this afterlife is *highly* exclusive and reserved only for those who died in combat. This afterlife is always exciting and suited to valiant souls."

"Reincarnation is a classic option for those who would like to continue their cycle of consciousness. Anyone and everyone can reincarnate!! The process is quite comforting. Multitudinous belief systems have reincarnation as their signature beyond, though there are separate departments."

"Heaven, while is quite popular, is also selective. Picking this option does not guarantee a spot. Be careful to avoid the reaching hands of the damned souls in hell, they like to claw at the outer gates. Jesus Christ is particularly fond of that tree, and he likes to sit in the dappled shade with his dog- of course the Almighty has a dog, he has multiple-"

"This is Rainbow Bridge, a personal favorite. Go ahead and meet up with your companions, you are expected to bring them before you select a Beyond. You will find that your souls can communicate perfectly well here."

"This is Atheist's Nothing. Where Atheists do nothing. I would advise against picking this one unless you are certain as it is quite final. Permanent, at least unless a loved one in another Beyond requests their presence."

"These are referred to by anime slash video game fans as the 'Isekai' Networks. They are a special division of the Reincarnation redistribution system. You can actually bring your phone or various belongings into some of these realms-"

#writers on tumblr #meme #memes #writeblr #funny #tumblr

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bones4thecats · 1 year ago

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hi can I request for Hades, Thor, Poseidon

y/n is mortal and the most calm, polite and gentle mortal they ever meet not even once they hear her raise her voice

even talking with them who hate human still in those demeanor

even trash talk about human still the same. yes the y/n don't have much love to her kind but she still mortal and they will trash talk about human and her

but secretly he like that attitude of y/n and with how y/n not afraid of them

as they trash talked about her. it is first time they hear her raise her voice, yet it still soft and gentle way. as y/n have been holding her anger and smile calmly to them. that is the first time she exploded

it was on that time they 100% to themselves who have been denied whole time that they are in love with y/n and proposed y/n prompt

this cause y/n blushed. y/n face have enter a new shade of red that human not supposed to have and agreed to marry them p/s: i'm looking at you Posseidon

A/N: I have four more requests to get through, and then I’m writing an old poll result and eventually making another poll. Now, enjoy!!

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

💀 Your trash-talking of humans was what got Hades interested in you

💀 They were your kind, yet you dislike them with such passion, kinda like him and the Gods

💀 Hades would smile gently as you would speak to Poseidon about how annoying humans were, he was a family man, he needs his brothers to connect with you just as much as he did

💀 And when he heard from Poseidon that you were a good option for him, it made him set his plan into action

💀 He had made you a traditional Greek dinner and went on a walk on the surface of Valhalla with you, before stopping in the middle of a field, the same field you both met

💀 You looked at the stars and a small bird that flew overhead, and didn’t realize that the God of the Underworld was down on his knee until you turned around

“ My skull, will you do me the honor and rule beside me as my partner until death? “

💀 Hades smiled as tears began running down your face, knowing he was doing the same

💀 Twirling you in the air as you cried into his shoulder, hiding your very red face

💀 He couldn’t wait for the day you both pledged yourselves to one another, he though as he slipped the silver wedding band with an amethyst jewel on your ring finger

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🌩️ The way you stood up for yourself got Thor interested in you

🌩️ He was used to watching humans just skimper away and hide themselves behind others or in the shadows when in the presence of Gods, especially him due to his reputation

🌩️ Thor would listen as you trash-talked humanity, calling them puny and wastes of space when something horrid they did was mentioned

🌩️ Despite many protests from Forseti because of your Humanity, Odin and Loki both approved of you, saying you were the perfect match for their family member

🌩️ He had been planning this for months, and when he had watched you smile and pat a young elf child as they gave you a flower, he knew that was the nail in the coffin

🌩️ He was to propose that night

🌩️ Thor took a small walk with you after a family dinner with Odin and Loki, to which the duo gave him the ring and small pep-talk he needed

🌩️ He had stopped when a river blocked your path, and because of this, you were standing underneath a tree, but not just any tree, a crape myrtle, which symbolized love

🌩️ You held one of the flowers as it fell, which prompted Thor to get down and hold out the ring to you, and when you saw him, you erupted into a blush redder than his hair

“ Y/N, I’m not the best with words and you know that. But, no words can describe how in love I am with you, and because of that, will you do me the honor and become my official partner until death parts us? “

🌩️ You cried and hugged him so close as he held his own sobs back

🌩️ Once he laid the golden band with a diamond in it on your finger, the kiss that pledged you both to one another was initiated

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🔱 You were at a meeting of the Gods with your oldest friend Aphrodite and when they mentioned you being there was a distraction, you just snapped back, saying humanity was something you had the right to speak of

🔱 And hearing you not defend, but complain about made Poseidon glance at you in surprise

🔱 He had never in his millions upon millions years of life heard any human talk down on their kind as a whole

🔱 Aphrodite chuckled as Poseidon took more interest in you, and she teased him constantly about wanting to marry you and start a new family of human-haters

🔱 But what she didn’t expect was for you two to commit to each other quite fast

🔱 Poseidon and you had been tiptoeing around the topic of marriage, prefering to be where you are at the moment, but when he heard Hades bring up how cute you both would be together and starting a family, he had got a ring and set out to propose to you

🔱 You were just sitting by the coast, the same one where you both would just complain about humans and how puny they were compared to the Gods, and he had you stand up before splitting a small area in the ocean for you to follow him through

🔱 He took you to the middle of a coral reef and held out the ring, it was golden with two aquamarine gems and a gem that appeared to be your favorite one

“ You’re unlike any mortal I have met in my life, Y/N. And because of your uniqueness you have caught my interest since the day you first mentioned your hatred for Humanity. Now, will you do me the honor of becoming my partner in ruling the oceans? “

🔱 Your cheeks erupted in a dark shade of red, and he smirked as you nodded and hugged him, allowing him to hold you in the air as you wrapped your legs around his waist before dipping down for the most romantic kiss you two ever shared

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