#She deserves to be future queen of the fells

[bittergirlsworld]

I can't find on me to hate Byeong-In because if you think about his point of view that So-yong tried to killed herself because of how unhappy Cheoljong and the palace life made her and how their family made her so miserable at the point to drive her to depression. He had every single reason to hate all of them, and I always felt that it was very ambiguous the way they wrote So-yong feelings towards him. She kisses him back for some seconds till she snaps. She tells him that in her dreams, sometimes her husband looks like him. She trusts him the most and he was the only one who notice that So-bong wasn't So-yong and STILL protected her anyway. His love towards her mixed with how used and mistreated he was by their family although he was a political genius makes all his actions very understanding. They don't know you like I know, youngest minister of War.

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

pairing: dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au

summary: your son maegon visits his sick old uncle, viserys, and end up learning the story of how you met your husband.

author's note: look who's back... this story was based off two asks, this one, and another one asking how daemon and mom!reader met. and now mom!reader is officially dornish!!!! i will not be making descriptions of her features in the future, but just know that mom!reader is poc. i hope you guys enjoy this story. it feels good to write again.

warnings: none ig

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader au masterlist

gif by @gameofthronesdaily

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ༓ ༓ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

It is sad when a family member gets sick and you know there's nothing you can do about it. So when your brother-in-law fell ill, it came the time you had to explain to your children that King Viserys wouldn't be the same he once was. The hard part was trying not to scare them with the thought of losing their uncle.

The news brought sadness to Alyssa's and Rhaegon's hearts, but Maegon was the most affected one. He felt the necessity of doing something for his beloved uncle so that even though the King now lay indisposed, he could still feel loved. Your son was old enough to realize that besides Helaena, Viserys' kids did not care for him. That made him sad. Rhaenyra lived in Dragonstone, and for so she couldn't give the attention her father deserved.

The boy had the idea of asking Queen Alicent to let him pay some company for King, during the evenings where he would like someone to talk to. As she needed a break from the sick man herself, she would let Maegon take over her place wherever she felt like it. Which was, almost every evening.

During one of those evenings, Prince Daemon thought it would be nice to see what his brother and son talked about. Mostly, he just wanted to see his brother interacting with anyone, to have the certainty that Viserys would still be alive for a while. The King had little to no hair on his scalp. His body couldn't stand up without the supported of a cane. Daemon didn't know how much time his older brother had left.

When Daemon made entrance to the monarch's solar, he found his son and his brother giggling softly. It felt good to hear the laughing. It meant Viserys was in fact, still alive.

"May I know what is so funny?" The Rogue Prince asked, making his presence known.

Maegon was startled by his father's voice. He has been visiting his uncle for weeks now, but not once his father wanted to come with him.

"Oh, hello Daemon" Viserys grinned at the sight of his sibling, "what a coincidence to see you right now. I was just telling Maegon about that time when we were kids... Do you remember when we tried to find The Cannibal?"

Daemon chuckled, "I do. We searched around all Dragonstone until Father found us before we got inside a Volcano's cave."

"And we never found him!" Viserys laughed.

"Well, thank Gods! You two would probably be eaten or burned alive and I wouldn't be here today to hear the story if you did find him." Maegon reasoned, watching his father pacing around the King's solar.

Daemon's fingers danced around the huge model of Valyria that his brother had exposed in the middle of his room.

"I miss the good old days when I was brave. Once I was sword fighting, I was riding Balerion, I took my little brother to look for a cannibal wild dragon..." Viserys sighed softly.

"You are brave still, uncle" Maegon assures, "It takes bravery to rule. And it takes bravery to be kind. You are a good King."

Viserys nodded to his nephew's words, taking his hands across the table. Daemon felt warmth in his heart. He couldn't quite understand that sensation, but he sees that part of him feels glad that his son expressed words and emotions he could never say or show, because he didn't know how to.

"Did you know that I was the one who introduced your mother to Daemon?" Viserys asked, with fun in his tone, "Have I ever told you the story?"

"Oh, you haven't!" Maegon engaged, grinning excitedly, "Do tell me, uncle, please."

We were all at Driftmark to prestige Corlys and Rhaenys' wedding. Nobles from all across the Seven Kingdoms were there, and your mother was one of them. I remember she was wearing her house colors in her dress. She was a bit older than your sister is now, I think.

My late wife, Aemma, introduced me to her, I didn't know they were friends. I discovered that the lady whom I had just met, was not only a Princess but also played part as a knight at her father's guard. She wore that dress with such grace, that I thought my ears deceived me when I imagined her wearing armor and ringmail.

My thoughts were disturbed by Caraxes' whistling noises, when Daemon, who was very late for the ceremony, came flying upon our heads, rounding Corlys' castle. Everyone was watching the little show your father was giving, mouth-opened, shocked, scared. Y/N wasn't any of those things. She wasn't impressed at all. I remember asking her;

"Have you ever seen a dragon?"

and smirking, she replied, "Where I come from, we have scarier animals."

"Scarier?" Aemma questioned.

"More dangerous." Y/N reasoned.

"I suppose you're right, Princess Y/N," I said, "There are beings more lethal than a dragon, like the very man who rides it can be far more dangerous for his ideals, than the dragon under his command."

It felt like I summoned my brother once I said those words.

"Prince Daemon" Y/N made a short reverence to greet his presence.

"Brother, let me introduce you to Princess Y/N of Sunspear, she is a good friend of Aemma's."

Daemon kept his smugly signature grin on his lips, and took Y/N's hand in his, kissing the soft skin of her knuckles.

"I am deeply sorry for being late for the ceremony. I hope dear cousin Rhaenys can forgive my missing presence." Daemon changed the subject without paying any interest to the lady who made us company.

His rudeness made me uncomfortable, but it was so like my brother to behave like that.

"Y/N, you should come visit us. Viserys and I would love to welcome your family to Dragonstone." Aemma smiled and looked at me for reassurance.

I nodded, "Feel free to visit whenever you want. It is a very lonely place, and unfortunately, the only family we have there is my brother, as Aemma and I are still trying for a child."

Before Y/N could give us an answer, Daemon retorted, "My apologies if living with your younger brother is not what you expected of marriage."

"It certainly is not what I was expecting." Aemma playfully hit Daemon with her elbow.

Y/N giggled softly and the noise took Daemon's attention. He was quite curious why she was still there, in his presence. Most people who didn't know him are likely to feel uncomfortable with his intimidating presence, but not that girl.

"Are you here with your family?" He questioned. That was the first time he spoke directly to her.

Y/N shook her head, "My father sent me here in his name to prestige Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and give them our wedding gift."

"Oh. I see Dorne's economy must be great if its ruler has enough gold to spend on such superficial events." Like always, Daemon felt the need to say something directly rude.

Y/N frowned, "I thank the Gods our economy is doing well. It certainly is not because of your King." she replied. Her head remained raised, and her eyes stared at Daemon's on the same height.

Daemon felt strange. That woman wasn't offended by what he said, and even tried to get under his skin. One had to have such courage to talk to him like that.

"Uhm... Viserys, why don't you take Daemon to get that wine Corlys was talking to you about?" Aemma spoke trying to break the tension.

"When I took him away, he couldn't shut his mouth about Y/N. He was amazed a woman had the guts to talk to him like that, and even so about the King." Viserys finished the story, as Maegon quietly listened to every word he said.

"She never really had much filter, your mother." Daemon said, "Still doesn't."

Maegon frowned, "But... that's it? That's how you met mother? But, when did you start courting her, father?"

"She came to Viserys' coronation ceremony. Aemma was pregnant and couldn't make her company, so I offered myself for my sister-in-law to be the one hosting her friend in King's Landing." Daemon shrugged, "The rest... well, maybe you should ask your mother how it happened. I don't remember very well, but I know she quickly fell in love with me."

[maefansblog]

Colin's Feelings for Penelope

Buckle up, because this is a long one.

Colin has always had feelings for Penelope. It did not just happen because of her glow up or because he was jealous. It also doesn't happen overnight. They are true friends who turn into lovers.

Feelings can start as admiration, protectiveness, care, friendship, pride, and turn into jealousy, lust, and love.

As he says in Season 2, "Our relationship has taken shape so naturally over the years, one could take it for granted," Colin tells Penelope. "You have always been so constant and loyal, Pen."

I've said this in another post, but Penelope's makeover revealed who she truly was, while Colin's makeover was to cover his insecurities. Colin fell in love with Penelope because she truly stepped into herself. As Lady Danbury said that all Penelope had to do was be herself.

When Colin apologizes in the garden in Season 3 Episode 1, it almost feels like a love confession.

In Lessons, he encourages Penelope to be herself-even referencing how they first met!

Colin's relationship is so strong with Penelope that he remembers how he and Penelope first met. He even recalls it fondly, calling her charming.

Colin is constantly chasing after Penelope in Season 3!

He is constantly touching her and wanting to get her alone.

Colin has so many longing looks where he is pining for Penelope. I'll describe a few of them. In Season 1 Episode 8, when looks for Penelope across the ballroom and catches her gaze before going up to her. In Season 2, when Colin returns home, and the world stops when he catches Penelope’s eyes.

Like in Season 3, when Penelope leaves Colin when she says things changed. He has such a lost puppy dog look. Then, with Goodnight Mister Bridgerton, he is so disappointed in himself and longs for Penelope to return. He has a longing and jealous look when Penelope is talking to Lord Basilio and Lord Remington during the Full Moon Ball.

The longing at the sweets tent, after the balloon rescue, when Lord Debling dances with Penelope at the Innovation Ball, the mirror pine at the library, before and during the wedding dance, when Penelope wears her nightgown, at Francesca's wedding and before the big Declaration at the Butterfly Ball.

Colin ALMOST confesses his feelings at the Willow Tree and before Penelope first danced with Lord Debling at the Innovation Ball. His words got jumbled and his nerves got the best of him. Normally, Colin prepares words before saying something important and he had no time to prepare.

Colin intended to confess his feelings when he went to the Queen's Ball (in Episode 4) and interrupted Penelope and Lord Debling's Dance.

I think Colin had rehearsed his speech a thousand times in his head. He probably imagined a thousand endings, (a few with his heart shattered, a few with them waiting years until they are together, a few with them courting, a few with them engaged, many wet dreams, a few with them married and having a family).

To Colin, if Penelope reciprocated his feelings, his idealized mind was that they were going to be together forever. I think he *tried to wait to propose,* in order to treat Penelope as she deserves.

When Colin cuts in the dance, he is not going to let anyone steal his girl. When Penelope left him on the dancefloor, he had already felt the sting of heartbreak. Yet when Penelope exited alone for her carriage, he began to hope again and could *not* let her leave without telling her. Chaos Colin definitely kicked in, and he was running on pure impulse.

He chases the carriage down with the sole purpose of confessing his feelings. He has no qualms with being alone with Penelope because he's been alone with Penelope before, and no one bats an eye.

Again, he's dreamed up a thousand endings. Colin saw his entire future realized, knowing that all of them ended happily ever after together.

We know Book Colin and Show Colin are separate people and separate stories.

However, a part of me thinks the show Colin kept the part of "I wouldn't have compromised someone without rendering a marriage proposal" stuck.

[Also, Book Colin doesn't start the day off thinking he was going to marry Penelope. He follows Penelope to the church, gets jealous that she might be meeting a Lover, is shocked that she is Lady Whistledown, they argue, he gets a little turned on, she states that she doesn't believe she's beautiful, then Colin declares she is. He knows he's going to marry her in that moment, compromises her, and then immediately proposes.]

I don't think Colin intended to propose. (Although I make jokes that he did! 🤣) He had imagined it. However, once she said she reciprocated his feelings, he was going to marry her. He had no control of his impulses. He was locking her in. He was going to propose.

He kisses and compromises her with no thoughts but Penelope, Penelope, Penelope... like she is a siren. (Book reference.) His face looks like he's hypnotized and living out his wildest fantasies. This was Penelope, and this was love. (Another Book reference.) So when they arrive at Bridgerton house, he is firm that he loves Penelope, she has feelings for him (he doesn't know if she loves him yet), and they are going to be together forever. He has the look of "Yes that's my wife!"

When he exits the carriage, I think he had proposed so many times in his dreams that he forgot to actually say it out loud. He happily asks, " For God's sake, Penelope Featherington, Are you going to marry me or not?"

Then he locks in. Telling his mother, family... probably getting no sleep to get their new home set up. Colin is ready for forever with Penelope.

He publicly claims her.

He reassures her on multiple occasions that he cares for her, has feelings, and even loves her.

Colin tries to protect her the only way he knows how. He does this by helping her with Cousin Jack in Season 2, offering to help her find a husband at the beginning of the season, saving her from the hot air balloon accident, and even her mother's wrath.

He tries to protect her, but feels like he fails and makes things worse. Especially when he thinks she's been kidnapped, only to find out she's Lady Whistledown. When the Queen interrupts his wedding to try to capture Lady Whistledown, Colin wants her to give up, but she can't because Penelope is Lady Whistledown. He tries to solve things with Cressida, and Cressida increases the money for Blackmail. Although I made a joke in the next picture, it does show why Colin would be upset.

Even when he is mad he loves her and wants to be married to her. He ravished her on the street and was giddy to dance with his bride on their wedding day!

Penelope has also changed the way he views intimacy.

From their first kiss, the world as he knew it shattered. Colin came to a realization that he had deeper feelings for Penelope than he had never thought to examine because they had been such close friends for such a long time. She completely opened his eyes.

The carriage kiss and more demonstrated the passion that can be expressed through combining emotional and physical intimacy.

The mirror scene was something that could never compare to anything else. It was definitely love making.

The modiste kiss was a confirmation that Penelope truly loved Colin. She wanted Colin to return to who he really was instead of the fake persona that he was putting on. With this news, Colin is filled with passion and an overflow of love for the person who sees him as he is and loves him all the same.

This is why to mix physical intimacy, while Colin was angry at the beginning of their marriage, feels wrong for Colin. He is tortured by this. He sleeps fitfully, but his love for Penelope has transformed him so much that he can't go back to his beginning persona and fake intimacy. He knows true intimacy and doesn't want to sully it.

He can't stay away from her, though. He won't give up Penelope. That's why he sleeps on the sofa that they first made love to be close to her rather than choose another room in the house.

Which makes Colin's Declaration of Love so great in the end. He doesn't take away Penelope’s chance to reveal Lady Whistledown. She is sharing with the world who she is. He doesn't try to change her. He has fallen even more in love with her because he knows even more about Penelope. Colin doesn't have to fake who he is or his feelings for Penelope because he knows that Penelope accepts and loves Colin for being himself.

Colin and Penelope's final intimacy scene shows them both coming together on equal levels, knowing each other fully, and loving them all the same. He is able to love and be loved. He is able to let Penelope take the reins in certain aspects of their relationship, and he is secure enough to let her. (The puns were just naturally there.)

So Colin has had true feelings for Penelope. Their relationship progressed so naturally. He was her friend. Eventually, they turn into lovers. This is why Colin Bridgerton is top tier. This is why this couple holds such a great spot in my heart. 💕

Thanks for reading and diving into the mind of Colin Bridgerton! 💕

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE HIGHEST TOWER (1/2)

Summary: As a Princess of the Realm the chance to escape political marriage and abscond with your Promised was beyond anything you could wish for. When the time is right, your dragon will lead you to them and your mother will support your union. In return, you must do all you can to protect her claim, even if you must do so from within the very heart of the Greens.

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader (eventual), Aemond Targaryen x Reader (mentioned)

Word Count: 4296

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, just general character awfulness, some espionage, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd.

Masterlist

You had lived the better part of eight and ten years in the Red Keep. The daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen handed off to the Queen like some paltry trinket. The King’s first and final word on the matter of his granddaughter. Thrust carelessly into Alicent’s care at the fresh age of ten, a peace offering and a trade for Lucerys’ life. You scarcely remembered life beyond the borders of the castle. Only that one moment your brother's life had been under threat and the next yours was all but forfeit.

Your mother had clasped the back of your neck, pulled you toward her and begged her father for mercy. You who had not even been in the room when Aemond had lost his eye, lost to your own midnight flight atop dragon back. And then the curtain of Rhaneyra’s hair parted, and from over her shoulder Daemon met your eyes. For a single poignant moment, he stared and then a smirk broke across his face as if he knew.

Knew that you were not the innocent that your mother would have the King believe you to be. Knew that your midnight rendezvous with your dragon at the exact moment of Vhagar’s claiming was not mere coincidence. Your intentions had been innocent at first. A trip to the kitchen for a cup of milk which you would warm on the stove – a feat the late Sir Harwin Strong had taught you. Past your brothers’ room, your mother’s room, the servants' quarters and a balcony overlooking the beach. And then you had seen him. Aemond scaling your cousin’s dragon. And that just wouldn’t do.

Targaryens – true Targaryens who did not cower under the cover of darkness – needed their dragons if they had any hope of finding their Promised. Your cousin, Baela who always shared her sweets and let you borrow her wooden sword, deserved the chance to meet her Promised in the wake of her mother’s death. The man or woman that Vhagar would lead her to when the Old Gods saw fit. In the game of thrones when Targearyens already found so few chances for happiness, how could Aemond strip his cousin of her chance at true love? True, as an eldest daughter Baela’s future husband was most certainly decided – likely one of your brothers. But you were certain that Jacaerys or Lucerys would be understanding and gracious when the time came for Baela to claim her Promised, as she would be when the time came for her Lord-Husband. Such was the way of things. At least for the lucky.

Imagining your dragon, Laesuvion, claimed by another and leaving you with no guide to your Gods-given Promised made you feel ill. And so, you set out on bare, hurried feet to find and mount Laesuvion. You were a Targaryen born of the blood of dragons, of true Valyrian features. Vhagar was your cousin’s dragon by right and it was your duty to protect that claim. She was a formidable, indomitable beast but shackled with a new rider on his first flight. If you had one chance to disrupt the yet fragile bond being formed by dragon and rider, it was to dislodge the green boy and send him toppling toward the sea.

Laesuvion had hatched for you in your cradle. He was much younger and smaller than Vhagar but all the faster. It would be no trouble to fell your traitorous cousin. The difficulty became disguising the shock of white scales along the elongated arch of Laesuvion’s neck whilst searching for Vhagar’s camouflaged breadth.

“Aderī Laesuvion. Dokimarvose.” (Quickly Laesuvion. Focus.) You urged him.

Despite your efforts, you only caught sight of them twice. Once among the clouds, though you were sure Aemond got a greater view of you than you did him. And again, as Vhagar was returning to land Driftmark. Your hunt had been unsuccessful. But you had been sure no one would suspect you of such vengeful intent toward your uncle. Except perhaps Daemon.

“It is a fair price, Rhaenyra,” Daemon’s smirk was cunning, “They will not harm her.”

The betrayal on your mother's face heated your blood. How dare he tell her what to do? Your mother, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the iron throne. This man who was no one, husband of no one, Prince of nowhere, heir of nothing. Who was he to command your mother? And now, to step toward you and attempt to pry you away from her. So close you could almost-

Almost hear the two of them whispering. To each other. To you.

“Think.” Daemon hissed, “They will demand her for Aemond sooner or later.”

“She is my only daughter.”

“She will still be your daughter in the Red Keep.” He kept up the pretence of fighting your mother, despite her arms having gone lax around you. “Not a bastard. Not a bargaining chip. Your daughter. At the heart of the greens.”

“She is a child.”

“A Targaryen child.”

“She is my child.”

“Then let her prove it.”

“Mother,” You warbled. “I don’t want to go.”

“Tala.” Daemon shifted, and his eyes met yours again as if you should know this word. You did not. “You will go. Make your mother proud. Learn at court. Find those who support her claim and those who will side with the Hightowers. You are weak and a girl, they will not suspect you. When the time comes you will be our most valuable weapon.”

“But I want to go home, Kepa.” (Father or paternal uncle)

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Rhaenyra held your face and brushed away your tears. “You will.”

“’Nyra.” Daemon warned.

“But not today.” She kissed each of your cheeks. “Today you must be strong for me. You must be strong for your brothers. You must do as Daemon says, we must keep them happy.”

And then your mother pulled you toward her firmly, pressed her lips to your ear and whispered a promise. A reward should you embark on this mission. Beyond sweets and silk dresses and extra time on Laesuvion. Beyond anything you had ever been promised or ever dreamed of asking for. Do this for your mother and she would exempt you from the chains of political marriage that would shackle each of your brothers. There was no guarantee you would be lucky like your brothers, married to one who would understand. But do this and you could have your Promised under the eyes of the Seven, the Old Gods, and the traditions of old Valyria itself. Even at 10, you knew that for a Princess and a second-born, there was no greater boon.

So, you did what you had to do for your one shot to truly be with your Promised. You squared your shoulders, kissed your mother's cheek, and stumbled toward Queen Alicent. She gripped you by the shoulder, tucked you into the folds of her skirt, and stared cruelly down her nose at your mother.

“Now I will have no more fighting.” Said the King and having satisfied his wife for the first time in their long marriage, he ambled off to bed.

As the crowd dispersed, Sir Criston Cole flanked the Queen and as a unit, the three of you marched from the room. Your mother, scarcely held together in Daemon’s embrace, gave one last warbling cry as you passed the threshold and disappeared, not to be seen again for nine long years.

You were kept that night in the Queen’s own quarters to thwart rescue or escape. Behind a bolted door and no less than three kings’ guards. And yet, that morning, upon waking with puffy eyes from silent tears and aching limbs from the harsh sitting room sofa, you found something that had not been there before.

A gift from Daemond, most assuredly, tucked under the pillow you had slept on. The handle was perhaps an inch too long for your small age, but the blade was curved and wicked sharp and would require little finesse to cause harm. Inlaid in the pommel was a single ruby, the size of your thumb and wonderfully smooth. Carved into the cross-guard flowing Valyrian script read valar morghūlis. (All men must die.)

You would call the dagger gaomilaksir, duty. You would carry it as a reminder of the promises you and your mother had made one another. One day, as Daemon had said, you would become her greatest weapon.

There had been few bright spots in your life as the Queen’s ward. So, few in fact, that you could count them on one hand.

One.

You could not fly. Such a thing would only encourage escape back to Dragonstone and your mother. But you could visit Laesuvion and watch him sweep through the clouds. He had grown much in your teenage years. Still lithe in build and elegant in frame, but more angular like an arrow strung tight. He did not take to Kings Landing, not in all your years trapped there. So used to the comfort of Dragonstone and your family’s own dragons, he often abandoned the Dragonpit entirely. Kept tethered to the Keep by your presence alone.

“Where is Laesuvion?” You were just shy of ten and two when you approached the Dragonkeeper Acolyte.

“Hunting, my lady.” He knocked his quarterstaff against the ground. “He flew north not three hours ago.”

“Do you not offer him food?”

The keeper lowered his head, “He refuses it, my lady.”

“Offer him better.”

“We give him our very best, lady. He is a magnificent but stubborn creature.”

“He is a dragon, not a creature.” You conjured up a playful grin. “And I am a princess, not a lady.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” The Acolyte blustered, “Shall I inform you upon his return?”

“That won’t be necessary,” You strode to his side and plunked yourself down to lean against the stone entrance. “I shall wait for his return here.”

And so, you did. Silently, for the better part of twenty minutes as the Acolyte threw furtive glances your way.

Until finally, “Truly, my lady. Your Highness. He could be hours still.”

Wonderful. You thought and cast a dazzling grin up at him. “Perhaps you ought to keep me better company then.”

And so, you began your mission. You charm the Dragonkeepers – Acolyte and Elder, all seventy-seven of them – who knew the princes and their dragons, their strengths and weaknesses. You befriend the maids, the scullery, the wet nurses, and the servants they bunk with. Piece by piece, inch by inch, you win back your mother's share of Kings Landing.

Two.

Strange though she was, your Aunt Heleana always welcomed you into her chambers. In your shared youth, she always had a critter clutched between her hands as if it were the most precious thing she owned. You are four and ten, a year younger than your aunt when she is forced to split her time between her menagerie of insects and the chubby masses of her twin babes.

“The young prince has lungs,” You smiled at Heleana as the wet nurse rocked a wailing Jaehaerys. “He will make glorious speeches when he is grown.”

“Only one.” She examined the creature in her hands. Today she favoured a centipede, passing Jaehaera onto you.

You had long since learned to ignore her ramblings, “The sweet Princess must be the wordsmith, then.”

“The fourth in an age.” Heleana startled as if only just noticing your presence. “Apologies, Hāedar. You wished to speak?” (Younger female sibling or cousin)

“No apologies necessary, Mandia.” (Older female sibling or cousin). The Valyrian word tasted foul. You had your own siblings on Dragonstone, those whom you had been stolen from and those whom you had yet to meet. But Heleana liked it when you pretended that you were not a prisoner, that you were her mother’s daughter and not her forcibly attained ward. And so you swallowed it with a smile, “Might we talk privately?”

Heleana startled again as she turned to the wet nurse. “Take the children to the nursery, Bria.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Bria gave an awkward curtsy, shuffled the still-wailing Jaehaerys to one side and received Jaehaera from your arms. Heleana turned to you expectantly as the trio disappeared through a side door.

“It is a sensitive matter I am afraid,” You eyed the centipede as it escaped her hands and crawled across her skirts. “I do not wish to cause offence.”

Heleana’s eyes pinched at the corners, “It is not such a terrible burden – to be a wife. Mostly he ignores you.”

“You misunderstand me,” You hurried. “I only wished to speak of your grandfather.”

“Not my brother?”

“Do you wish to speak of your husband?”

“No,” Heleana gave you a quizzical look. “I speak of Aemond, who will be your husband.”

“Aemond?” Your uncle who’s selfishness had trapped you here. One of Alicent’s precious children married to her living doll. The thought would have been hysterical were it not so frightening. Surely not.

“It is the natural progression of things. I was given to Aegon and now you to Aemond.” Heleana’s attention returned to the centipede. “One pairing to strengthen our house, another to mend its bonds. So says grandfather.”

“Oh Mandia. I am entrusted to your mother. There need be no marriage to bring me into the fold. We are family.” 

“Yes. So says mother.” Heleana stared. Not so blind as she seemed. “But grandfather always gets what he wants.”

And so, you are four years into your mission, having sat patiently by the Queen's side. Having listened and learned and noted those your mother can count on. Four years in and the time to begin quietly making moves had arrived with a head start from your oblivious Aunt.

But then you see the centipede crawl from her hands again and writhe across her skirt. And you think maybe Heleana’s warnings have more to do with where the critter is trying to lead her than it has to do with you.

Three.

It took you longer than you would like to admit to worm your way into Otto Hightower’s confidences – if there were such a thing.

You had quickly learned in your first year at the Keep that Alicent feared her father, distrustful of his greed and power lust. Not much unlike yourself, she had been sent into the greedy hands of a different house in pursuit of the Iron Throne. Were Otto not so blinded by his ambitions you might have begun to worry that Daemon’s strategy might ring familiar. But Lord Hightower’s strength was also his greatest weakness. So careful in his scheming, gently coaxing his will unto others, moving his pawns about the board, sacrificing all but himself, he could not see his tactics turned against him. Beyond your connection to Rhaenyra, you barely registered as a piece in the game.

Daemon had been right. Weak and a girl and not a threat. Not yet.

So, you worked tirelessly to endear yourself to Alicent. Just as you learned from her, you began to teach in turn. When you are in the room Otto Hightower dares not spin his lies about succession. When you appear around corners in search of your Queen-mother talk of hastening the king's condition ceases. When you are near, Alicent is safe. She begins to wear you like the expensive accessory you are, a decorative shield.

Hours trailing your Queen-mother to and from meetings of the small council, waiting patiently at her side as she sat in place of the King. Serving wine to fat and foolish lords.

And then finally, on the eve of your ten and fifth nameday, the Queen brings you along to the Hand's Tower.

“Father.” She greets.

“Alicent,” Otto brings you to his office, where a tea set for two lays steaming. “I see you have brought your shadow.”

The Queen barely glances your way as you serve her tea and then her father’s, before retreating to stand at her shoulder. She glares across her father’s desk, “This does concern her.”

“She is approaching her fifteenth year, two since her first blood. Time has well arrived for her to marry,” He stares directly at you then, “Have you any fondness for your uncle, Princess?”

“My lord, the Princes and I are often kept busy by our duties.” Your friends among the servants have divulged their schedules. You stay firmly away from drunken Aegon and selfish Aemond, remaining civil only with young Daeron.

“You must see reason.” Alicent implores her father. “They hold no affection for one another. Aegon and Heleana have already wed in the name of strengthening our family. To marry her would serve only to anger Rhaenyra.”

“And to bind her eldest daughter to us.” Interesting that he would say so openly in front of you. Perhaps you have been more effective in playing a Green than you had thought. “Aemond will be a good husband to her.”

“I have no doubt,” Alicent says and as silence stretches you suspect she is losing conviction; you have not saved her this time.

You clear your throat delicately, “If I may?”

“Of course, sweet pet.” Alicent reaches out to fuss with your hair. She likes it long and keeps its length to your hip despite how cumbersome it can be. Short hair is unbecoming, she claims.

You look to Otto in false deference, “My lord?”

“Very well.”

“I think,” You begin carefully. “Aemond and I may be of better use to you.”

“And how might that be?” He is condescending but you have his attention.

“When the time comes that grandsire passes on, I suspect the lords of the realm will need cause to back a claim to the Iron Throne. My Septa says that peace such as we have seen under his rule may bring unrest. I do not doubt that Aemond will make a fine and just husband. All I mean is that mayhaps it would be wise to keep us unwed until we may serve a greater purpose.”

No mention of your mother nor their ill-begotten plan for Aegon. Hightower's methods played against him.

“And when the time comes you will do this?” He demands.

“It is my duty to my house.”

He tilts his head as a predatory bird might. “You must swear it, to myself and to your Queen, upon your young brothers.”

To pause would mislay your ruse. To hesitate would be to sign your life away to Aemond Targaryen.

“I swear it, upon the lives of my brothers.”

He considered you for a moment, and then his daughter.

“You have done well with her, Alicent.” Your Queen-mother sighs as Otto Hightower stands. “Enjoy your tea, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Perhaps you will be of more use than we originally suspected, Princess.”

Your first true victory. You will not be shackled to the Keep; you will be kept safe until your mother comes for you. Until such a time that you and Laesuvion can seek out your Promised.

Four.

The Queen held a strange fondness for you. Platinum-haired and purple-eyed, the spitting image of the Realm’s delight and perhaps the only trueborn among your siblings. She took pains to brush and braid your hair, dress you in green and flout you at court. Her perfect tamed Targaryen. Who would eat from her hand, take tea by her side, sit prim and silent as her Queen-mother decorated her. You were her walking-talking glimmering triumph over Rhaenyra.

At ten, Alicent’s obsession stole you from your mother. At ten and four, it protected you from a hasty marriage. And now, at ten and eight, it was your path to freedom.

“Mother?”

Oh, how Alicent loved it when you called her that. One more thing ripped from Rhaenyra’s thieving hands. Alicent pushed into your room with a tired facsimile of a smile and took the seat across from you by the roaring hearth.  

“My sweet pet.” She was dressed head to toe in full regalia. “I am so sorry to have missed you today.”

You tucked a piece of scrap paper into the book you had been reading, buying yourself time to school your features into innocent confusion. “As am I. My door has been locked. I am sorry I could not come to you.”

“A precaution – one that I fought.” Alicent reached for your hair, running her fingers through its length. “But we cannot trust you to betray your mother. Regardless of the years you have spent in our care.”

“I do not understand, mother.” But you do.

“Your grandsire is dead.”

You close your eyes, “Aegon is king.”

“Yes.”

“You did not wish for this.”

“I wish Viserys were still a living corpse. That he would outlive us all so that none could claim his cursed throne. Not Aegon. Not Rhaenyra. Not my father.”

“That is not a solution.”

She tugs at your hair harshly, “Foolish pet, there is none.”

You blink harshly. Your eyes scarcely holding back tears. For the first time since you left your mother's embrace, you are truly scared. No longer are you the meek girl who walks in the Queen’s shadow. Given liberties and protection in a twisted echo of her love for Rhaenyra. You are a living embodiment of what House Targaryen will be to House Hightower. A pretty little puppet kept from your dragon, cloistered away like some trophy, scrambling for a scrap of power to delude yourself that you have some control.

“What is to become of our house?” You whisper.

“Your mother and Prince Daemon remain on Dragonstone. No blood has yet been shed.” Alicent brushed your hair softly behind one ear. “We have sent Aemond to Storm’s End to do as you once suggested. To offer himself to one of the Baratheon girls, that Lord Borros might see reason and acknowledge Aegon as rightful King.”

Good, there were those beyond the Keep who remained steadfast and loyal. It was time to return to your mother, then. To tell her all you had learned these last eight years. To name her allies and set Daemon loose upon her foes. Now was the time.

“What of my brothers?”

Alicent leant back, “Scouts have spotted Vermax flying north likely as an envoy to rally support among the lords.”

“How could they have mobilized so quickly? Was Aegon not crowned mere hours ago?”

“He was, indeed.” Alicent’s gazed into the fire. “The Lady Rhaenys was not so welcoming of solitude as you have been.”

“She has gone to Dragonstone?”

“She has.”

“And no one has come for me?”

“They have not.”

For a moment you each stared listlessly into the hearth. When Alicent shifts back to face you, she has a letter clutched in her hand. It is crisp and of fine quality but most strikingly, stamped with the King’s seal.

“I am under no delusions,” Alicent says softly, mournfully. “You can no more contest your mother's claim than I can Aegon’s. We are matching pieces in this game, I think.”

Your fear swells, “Mother.”

“Please, my sweet girl.” She smooths the hair atop your head. “You must do me one last favour as my ward.”

“I don’t understand.”

She presses the letter into your hands. “Jacaerys will fly first to the Vale, to treat with House Arryn and then to Winterfell. You will take this and beat him there. You will do as you swore to do those years ago.”

“I ca–”

“Listen!” She jerked you by your shoulders. “You must listen. You will wed Lord Stark. He is as fine a match as any. The north is loyal to Rhaenyra and will remain steadfast, you will be well treated. You must go, with this missive from the King, his final wish to send you north to snow and safety. In return for your hand, they will take no part in the fighting, they will protect you as their own, until such a time that the victor is crowned. Do you understand me, pet?”

“The King never cared for me.” You said foolishly.

“And yet, with his dying breath, he spoke of you and of Aegon. That you would carry his legacy, that you would see out his dream to the North. That Prince Aegon was Promised to this kingdom. You must believe me. You must do this for your grandsire.”

“I do believe you mother.” She was deluded. “I will do what must be done.”

Alicent has offered you one gilded cage for another. You will not be fool enough to fall into this one. You will find Laesuvion and be gone in the dead of night. You tuck the King’s missive into your book and smile at the Queen.

“Shall we call for tea, mother? You have much to tell me. I hear I have missed a coronation.”

Five.

You shape your fifth and final joy as the Queen Alicent’s Ward whilst escaping her clutches. You take three sharp detours on your path to the Dragonpit. First, to the chamber of the small council where you snatch the King's ball of quartz, you will make a gift of this to your mother. Then to the creche where the Keeper’s turned a blind eye as you pilfered three precious Dragon eggs. Finally, you find yourself ascending the steps of the Lord Hand’s Tower. To take the Dowager Queen from the Greens would be the greatest gift to your mother and her cause. But Alicent, despite her many faults, had been as kind to you as one might be toward a favourite pet. And so you do as a pet would – you do not bite the hand that fed you. Instead, you do both your Queen-mother and the woman that birthed you, a favour. You find Otto Hightower asleep in his study and you pass onto him your final gift from Daemon Targaryen.

You leave gaomilaksir in the heart of Hightower as you flee north, your duty complete.

(Part 2 : The Winter Keep)

[thebadboyfanclub]

This Is What You Deserve (Daemon x Reader)

Look man you don't choose when the smut will come to you, it just does. This was requested by anon and @ladystrongofharrenhall which I feel the need to apologise cause it like barely is what you requested, if you feel like you don’t like it please let me know and we can figure out something else for me to write for you.

“The dowager lady of Harrenhall, (y/n) Strong with her son and heir Arryan Strong”

The man introduced the lady dressed in all black that stood before the iron throne with a toddler holding her hand that was dressed in deep blue, a spitting image of his father, soft curls fell directly on his face and eyes that had stolen the color right out of the deep sea.

The lady bowed before the king that had invited her to court after the incident that had occurred in Harrenhall, within the night she had lost her husband and good father, both of them gave their lives to save her and her son, now she was in kings landing for the first time since her wedding.

“My king, it is very thoughtful of you to invite me to your court”

“Nonsense, your husband was one of the most trusted men within the gold cloaks and his father was a good friend of mine, last time I saw you you were dressed in all white”

“A lot has changed since then I am afraid”

“Indeed, I grief for the loss you have suffered, I summoned you to offer you a place in my court, under my protection, your born family has been an ally since the beginning, your son will be my cupbearer and will receive the same education as every noble boy and you can live within the castle as the queens' companion”

“Your honor me, your grace, it gladdens my heart that you thought of us amongst the countless matters that demand the kings' attention”

(Y/n) had learned from a very young age that a lady was to act a certain way, she had just lost the earth from underneath her feet, left with a son in her arms and a scandal on her back that she had to shield him from, she could feel every pair of eyes on her back, all of them like crows that waited for a sign of weakness, she would not give them that satisfaction, not today, not ever.

“The servants will lead you to your chamber, I believe your travel is quite long”

“Indeed, thank you, my king”

“My king”

Sweet Arryans voice was heard as he bowed in unison with his mother, a boy of 4 years of age, he was (y/n)s sun and moon, anything and everything she did she did it to make sure his future is secured and his present time is as happy as it could be amongst the chaos.

-

“My boy”

“Mother!”

Little Arryan ran to his mother and hugged her as tightly as his little arms could although he could not completely wrap them around (y/n)s hips since this was the height that he was.

(Y/n) scooped up her son to check for any injuries or some type of harm, (y/n) had attempted to stay calm and calculated in front of the court, however, imagine her surprise when she left her little boy with Baela and Rhaena to play together and when she came back Baela told her that their father Daemon had taken Arryan up on Caraxes.

“You looked tiny from up there”

“I did, didn’t I? Let’s go inside now”

“You are welcome, I am sure that was a moment the child will never forget”

(Y/n) was fuming, Daemon had approached her a few morrows ago to offer his condolences, being a widower himself he could indenting the struggle and pressure she was under, at the time she faintly smiled and curtsied to thank him.

Now (y/n)s eyes threw a dagger and her lips were a thin line, how dare he so arrogantly demand a thank you for putting her child in danger? Arryan wasn't a Targaryen, nor was he a kin to Daemon, the possibility of Caraxes to harm the child was huge.

“Baela, take Arryan inside, I shall be with you in a moment”

Her voice grew cold, and the surroundings were resembling of a cloud closing in and overshadowing the sun, like a warning of a strong that gathered around Daemon's head who seemed clueless of the warning signs that he is daughters picked up so easily that got them almost running away from themselves

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who gave you the authority to take my son up on that beast with you?”

“You should feel flattered, he is one of the few people that get to say that they have gone up on a dragon”

“I know that your family likes to frown down upon us from your mighty dragons but listen to me well, my son is the future lord of Harrenhall and the carries my born name of Featherdall, we were the biggest army Aegon the conqueror had on his side when he took over the seven kingdoms, so the next time you even think of coming around me and my son with your high and mighty attitude I would advise you to think how well would it go for you if you angered the house that put you up on that throne, got it?”

Daemon was stunned, he just stared at the lady that stood before him with her breath heavy and audible enough for everyone to feel her fury, she wasn’t a dragon but Daemon swore he could see fire in her hues, no one had dared to speak to the rogue prince this way, still there she was, commanding him and keeping her head up high, not an ounce of doubt or fear in sight.

“Yes, my lady”

“That’s what I thought”

-

“Alright my love, let me tuck you in”

“Momma, can I go up to the dragon again?”

“I am not sure sweetling, the prince is a busy man”

“But he said he will find time whenever I want”

“Did you like the dragon that much?”

“Uh-huh, you said Papa is up in the sky, I wanted for him to see me better”

(Y/n) was speechless, tears welling up in her eyes at the doting explanation her son had given her, she could detect the joy the little boy had experienced that day, she had not seen him this happy since Harwin was alive.

“Go to bed now, I will ask Prince Daemon on the morrow”

“Thank you, momma, goodnight”

“Goodnight my love”

Regret took over her body and soul like poison, she lost composure and talked back to a royal, she did not even take a minute to think of how did Arryan end up on the dragon, (y/n) had switched to defense mode the moment she saw the humongous animal land and did not care of anything else besides that her child could have been harmed.

Daemon could not find sleep, he tossed and turned for hours but his mind was occupied with playing (y/n)s speech over again instead of leaving him to rest, she was fuming however there was something in the way she looked at him, at the trembling tone of her voice that Daemon could empathize with… grief.

It was almost like the Gods had orchestrated it, leaving them restless and wandering in the gardens with the encounter that had a sour taste in their mouths.

Daemon was the one that noticed her figure sitting down on the bench, a silk cape covering her as her hair was down instead of a tight undo like it was in the morning, he chose to remain silent as he approached slowly and sat next to her, (y/n) did not turn to look at the prince, something told her exactly whom it was.

“I am sorry, I should have not talked to you that way, it was entirely inappropriate”

“You were defending your child, I should have asked permission to take him with me. I understand why you lost your temper”

“Sometimes I dream of putting him in a bubble, to keep him from… harm”

Her voice cracked once more, at that little word so many emotions were hidden, love, fear, anger, confusion, Daemon looked at her side profile while the moonlight caressed her cheeks, the difference of expression between the lady he met in daylight was tremendous, she had lived every day in agony but painted a smile for her son, now he could see the true cracks.

“Why did you come back to kings Landing? Harrenhal might have been better?”

“The king summoned us, Harwin and I had never presented our son to the court, now I had to make sure he was established as the future lord of the house strong”

“Did you love him? Harwin”

“Deeply, he treated me with kindness and respect”

“I don’t know how much respect did he show to your wedlock, especially with all the whispers that surrounded his name”

“Harwin was a wonderful man, I lost three children before we had Arryan, my father told him that he would understand if Harwin wished to leave our marriage, still he stood by me and loved me”

“Is that what love is to you? A man sticking at your side while he has other children”

“I will not let you taint my dead husbands' name, I have already apologized why are you trying to get me riled up again?”

“I’m not”

(Y/n) scoffed at Daemon's protest and got up so she can get some distance from him, her back was now facing him and Daemon realized he was pressing down on a wound that was still tender, it was not his place to question their marriage since he has two on his back.

“I just, you are a young lady you certainly deserve more than the bare minimum?”

“Bare minimum? Are you even aware of what most women have to put up with when it comes to their husbands? Beatings, embarrassment, constant pregnancies, bastards, public belittling, Harwin treated me with care, he was sweet and offered me much more than any woman could ever wish for”

“He fucked Rhaenyra”

The harsh slap against Daemon's cheek was heard loudly around the garden, even (y/n) was taken back by her action, she did not understand why he kept pressuring her, like a knife that he had stabbed her with and now he kept twisting it around, Harwin was nowhere near perfect but there was a level of understanding between them, he kept her away from the dramatics and carefree enough, why was Daemon kept nitpicking at her?

Daemon's eyes grew wide, it stung but it did not hurt him, was most shocking, they both gawked at one another waiting for someone to do or say something, maybe it was (y/n)s sudden rush of emotion that compelled him to do the same or just him being compulsive, whatever it was that took over it was strong enough to push her against the nearest wall and plant the most passionate kiss (y/n) had ever experienced, at first she froze still the heat that radiated from his hands as they roamed her body and the strength his kiss held sweetened the moment and she closed her eyes, in a way one would say she surrendered.

“This is what you deserve”

Daemon growled as the kisses went down from her lips to the nape of her neck, Harwin was a sweet lover, his touch was soft, and (y/n) was taken care of, however (y/n) could see that it lacked in passion, he did not yearn for her, it was just another way to show her that he loved her.

“We could get caught”

“Not if you are quiet”

That would have been a piece of wonderful advice had he not made it so difficult by thrusting intensely, she whimpered from pleasure while her nails dug deep into his skin and drew blood, she even bit her lip to the point of bleeding to prevent herself from letting the whole keep know how much she was enjoying this, she had never felt what it was like to be craved, wanted, needed even, Harwin loved her still his body did not weaken at the sight of her nakedness nor did his hues darkened during their sacred bedding.

Daemon's eyes were as dark as the deep waters of the ocean, his grip on her waist was ironlike, and his body collided with hers while she hoisted up her leg to his waist for more access and comfortability, the match was resembling the concept of throwing fire to gasoline.

“Please Daemon”

“You sound so pretty when you beg”

Both of them were out of breath but kept pushing, their bodies acted like they knew each other for years, that this was a normal day for them, they instinctively were conscious of how the other liked to be touched, kissed, gazed upon, it was addicting, it was (y/n)s first time of feeling like the queen of the world and Daemons first time that he wanted to over-perform, to fill every need and tend to her every desire.

“Hush”

He shushed her when a yield escaped her lips as she reached her end, he kissed her once more as she moaned in his mouth, his pace slowed and both of their bodies relaxed when they rode the pleasure at the very last wave of it.

“Do you now understand what I meant when I said that you were getting the bare minimum?”

Daemon whispered in her ear before he left a kiss on her cheek, her face glowing and wet from droplets.

“Yes”

“You are burning up”

(Y/n) was sweating profusely, although Daemon wanted to take a good look at her, to remember the moment that a faint smile decorated her lips as she grew tired but her body was relaxed as it was used to the very bit of its powers, Daemon softly blew some air at the side of her neck to cool her, though all it did was compel her body to grow goosebumps and shake.

“Stop, it tickles, you are no better either, you are a sweaty mess”

“The sweat of a champion, anyone that would even glance at you would see how content you are”

“And you are not? You are still inside of me”

“I must admit, it is like a nice warm hug”

(Y/n) pushed him off at the cheeky comparison making him giggle, she fixed her dress to hide most of the damage while Daemon pulled his trousers up and buttoned up the shirt with the few buttons that were left since (y/n) had ripped it open.

“We must go”

“I will collect Arryan on the morrow after I break my fast”

“And who told you you could do that?”

“No one, I assumed I get privileges when you were holding on to me for dear life whilst I-“

“Alright alright, I will see you on the morrow”

Requests are open!

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! I must have the royal au version of it just imagine 😩

Our King deserves a treat 🤭

So far your stance at the Arachne's Kingdom had been a breeze. You'd spend your days painting, embroidering, writing letters, knowing more of Arachne's kingdom. Your relationship with the king of course was still strained.

It had been just a couple of times you had sat and ate together, or did anything together really. One of your fond memories with him was you taking a stroll with him through the castle. Talking about meaningless things, giving bashful smiles, trying to get closer to him.

Little moments of him being gentle with you, gave you hope. Of. course you wouldn't expect things to just click suddenly. You knew with patience you could get there.

Your paintings had improved significantly, and the little conversation among the court only sparked a new idea for you.

"Did you hear?"

"Captain Reilly received one of those portraits"

The hushed voices reverberated through the ample stony halls. You stood there, eavesdropping.

A gasp

"Really? Oh my lord! Is he courting someone?!"

"No, not that I know off, but I just caught a glimpse of it. It's... scandalous!"

"By your majesty, don't spare the details!"

"Heard that famous painter did it. Leona Visqué. It's really hard to get a commission from her. This woman must be desperate if she wants Captain Reilly."

The voices just kept fading as they ventured further within the halls.

You'd visit Miss Visqué yourself.

-----

"If I should've known that the future queen of Arachne, I would've fix the place a bit. Apologies for the mess, your majesty."

"Worry not dear. I know that oil. paintings can be quite hard to remove."

Leona stared with a smile.

"May I know what is it you will commission?"

Your cheeks flushed softly.

"I... overheard a small conversation in the palace, and-"

"Oh?" She smirked, "Glad to hear my art is being the talk among nobility"

You chuckled as your fingers fiddled nervously.

"I would like one of... your famous portraits." You mumbled.

"Oh..." Leona couldn't help but beam.

"For the king?" You nodded with a bubbly and antsy feeling in your stomach. Eyes still cast down.

"Well, seems my other comissions can wait. Let's make something he'll never forget."

----

The king had noticed how you'd take small trips to the city, only to return until noon. And no matter how much he asked, Jessica wouldn't tell him.

"I gave my word to not say a word." She'd dismiss him with a little smile. If it wasn't for a mutiny in the jails, he'd send his own spies to see what your sudden secrecy was about.

----

The wait was over. Leona had finally finished your portrait. Your cheeks burned brightly as you admired yourself in the canvas. Even though, she had insisted that it was a gift, you still payed her.

The canvas was tucked in a velvety pouch. And when you made sure he wasn't in his chambers, you put the little gift in his bed. A bed you would one day share.

The thought made you flee with a heated face.

-----

He removed his armor and striped himself into nakedness. The servants already had his bath ready. Hot steamy water to sooth his aching muscles. He was only a king in his mid thirties yet felt like someone of fifty. his stubble seemed more prominent. He'd need to shave again soon.

Once done, he dried himself and walked over his bed. The fire inside his dim lit room, only casted it's reflection on his moist skin. His eyebrows grimaced upon the velvety package awaiting in his bed.

Damp strands fell on his face, nimble hands undid the small knot ontop. Your penmanship impeccable as usual.

For your eyes only

He blinked as the canvas was slowly revealed to him.

His mouth gaped, a soft sharp inhale it did when his eyes marveled at what laid in his hands.

Your naked form, laid down, a hand above your head as the other one rested near your mouth, a subtle invitation.

His eyes unavoidably wandered to your hips and thighs, the smooth curves of your flesh were traced by one of his fingers, silently hoping that one day he'd be lost between them. You were laid in a bed of flowers, your hair slowly melding with them as some were placed strategically on your your upper strands.

Pouty lips he once fantasized in touching, pried open in a delicate yet alluring way. His groin twitched. Soft mounds that were often caged under fancy dresses, were now freed for him to see. No longer having to imagine them. Supple, generous, and perfect for his hands to maneuver.

How could he had been so blind?

Divine. Perfect, and soon to be his.

Oh, the last one. He had been too busy to actually dwell into thoughts of his own wedding. A day that seemed closer than he anticipated. But now, he had a reason to look forward to it. And for him to be your first was both thrilling yet endearing, but of course his dark mind offered a little twist.

He'd have you as many times as he wished.

A satisfied smirk nested in his meaty mouth.

Oh he would.

[vampirestookmydoubts]

The Prince's Debutante - Series

A/N: This is a series based and written on the ideas of @aninhatatu, I'm just the messenger, haha. Once again, thank you very much for the chance to bring your idea to life and for being the first person to proofread my texts, haha!

Prince Friedrich deserves all the love.

Summary: As the daughter of a disowned marquis and a common maid, you enter your debut season under the watchful eyes of your grandmother, hoping for a humble suitor, to secure your family's future. But your plans change when Prince Friedrich falls for you, sparking an unexpected romance.

Will you and Friedrich be able to find a way to unite love and duty, as you navigate the complexities of society? Or will your blooming love succumb to your family's different expectations and societal scrutinies?

Pairings: Prince Friedrich x Reader

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: A Debutante's Dilemma

The early morning light filtered through the delicate lace curtains right into the bedroom, casting intricate patterns on the wooden floor. You sat at your vanity, fingers trembling slightly as you tried to arrange your hair in the latest fashion. Today was the day you had awaited with equal parts dread and anticipation: you debut in London’s society. As the eldest daughter of your parents, your introduction to the ton was fraught with complexity.

Your father, Jonathan Withlock, was the son of the marquis of Thornewood, leading a comfortable life as a member of the rich and noble ton of London. Your mother, Moira, on the other hand, wasn’t part of the glamorous society your father used to mingle with. In contrast to his noble status, she was just a mere maid; and, to make matters worse, a Catholic Irish immigrant, who came to England to find a better life for herself after the death of her parents.

When your parents fell in love and eloped, despite their different social statuses, one could only imagine the uproar that went through Thornewood Manor and London’s high society. And, naturally, with that came your father’s disownment from his family, losing his title and money. But despite losing everything that came with his name, as well as the future title of marquis, your father always told you and your two younger siblings that he never regretted choosing your mother.

The only reason you were to be presented to the queen and to the ton today was your father’s employment as the king’s new physician. Through old friends and his talents as a physician to other noble men, the queen herself got word of your father’s competence. As a reward for his good treatment and discretion when it came to her husband, the king, she awarded your father a minor title.

Your mother, Moira, a woman with a fierce spirit, entered your room quietly. Sh approached you, her eyes softening as the got the sigh of your anxious reflection in the mirror. “Y/N, you look lovely,” she said, her voice a soothing balm to your nervous mind. “Do not worry. Today is the beginning of something exciting and wonderful.” You smiled weakly. “I am not worried about today. It is the entire season that frightens me. What if no one pays me any attention? Or worse, what if they do?” Moira placed a gentle hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you. “You, my love, are intelligent, kind, and beautiful. Any man would be fortunate to have you.” You nodded, trying to draw strength to from your mother’s words. “I just wish you could present me to the queen. It feels wrong, going with Grandmother.” Your mother’s expression tightened slightly at the mention of her mother-in-law. “I know, darling. But the ton has its rules, and we must abide by them for now. Your grandmother has agreed to help, and we must be grateful for that. Your grandmother, the Marchioness of Thornewood, had gladly offered to present you to the queen, when you mother wrote to her. It was a move driven by her desire to reconcile with her estranged son and, perhaps, alleviate some of the scandal that had marred their family’s name. Despite her outward appearance of haughty indifference, you knew your grandmother harbored a deep sense of pride and duty. Tucking a stray lock of hair back into your updo, your mother squeezed your shoulder again, looking at your reflection in the mirror. “Everything will be alright.”

The carriage ride to Buckingham House was a quiet one. You sat beside your grandmother, Lady Clarece, who regarded you with a critical eye. “Sit up straight, Y/N,” Lady Clarece admonished. “You must look the part of a lady, even if you bloodline is tarnished. You are representing not only your father, but more importantly, the marquis of Thornewood.” You bit back a sharp retort, reminding yourself that this was the woman who held the key to your and your siblings future in society. Instead, you straightened your back and lifted your chin, trying to exude the grace and poise your grandmother expected.

Upon arriving at the palace, you joined a long line of debutantes and their chaperones, all waiting for their moment before the queen. The air buzzed with nervous energy, the scent of perfume mingling with the tension of dozens of young women about to face their societal debut in front of the queen. When your turn came, you felt your heart painfully pound in your chest. With your grandmother next to you, you stepped forward, each step felt both too fast and painfully slow. The grand hall, with its high ceiling s and opulent decor, seemed to close in on you, the present members of society blurring as your eyes fixated on the person at the end of the aisle: Queen Charlotte. The queen, resplendent in her regal and pompous attire, regarded you with a discerning eye. “Miss Y/N Withlock,” the messenger of the queen announced. “Daughter of Sir Jonathan Withlock. Presented by her grandmother, Lady Clarence, the Marchioness of Thornewood.” Your grandmother performed the necessary courtesies, and you followed suit, curtsying deeply and holding your breath, just like the hundreds of times you practiced before. A low murmur went through the crowd. Queen Charlotte’s gaze flickered with recognition at the mention of your father’s name, the renowned physician who had earned her husband’s trust. She gave a barely perceptible nod. “Rise, Miss Withlock.” You straightened your back, meeting the queen’s gaze with as much confidence as you could muster, despite the anxiousness rushing through your veins. The queen’s eyes softened just a fraction, and you felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps your father’s reputation might lend her some measure of acceptance. “You may proceed,” Queen Charlotte said, dismissing you and your grandmother with a wave of her hand. As you left the palace, your grandmother turned to you, her expression unreadable. “You did well enough, my dear. Now, the real challenge begins.”

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activities. You and your grandmother attended numerous teas, luncheons, and soirées, each event blurring into the next. Much to your grandmother’s satisfaction, you quickly learned to perform the art of polite conversation and the delicate dance of societal expectations. But, despite your best efforts, you remained on the fringes, overshadowed by this season’s more illustrious debutantes like Daphne Bridgerton and Marina Thompson. Something you didn’t mind, if you were honest. One evening, at one of many balls, you found yourself standing by the refreshment table, observing the throng of dancers swaying and waltzing to the music of the orchestra. You sipped your lemonade, suddenly feeling the weight of the season pressing down on you. So far, you had already managed to attract the attention of a few men of modest means, but no one of significant fortune or title. Nor someone you felt a connection with. “Feeling like a wallflower?” asked a familiar voice to your right. You turned to see Penelope Featherington, her kind eyes and warm smile offering a welcome respite from the sea of unfamiliar faces. Penelope - that much you already learned from the latest teas and get-togethers - was also often overlooked, but her sharp wit and genuine kindness had quickly endeared her to you. “Perhaps a bit,” you admitted. “It seems I am not quite like the diamond of the season.” Penelope chuckled. “Not am I, but I find it rather liberating. Less pressure to impress, more freedom to enjoy oneself.” You smiled, appreciating Penelope’s perspetive. “You are right. It is just difficult not to feel overshadowed.” Your conversation was interrupted by a sudden hush that fell over the room. You followed the gaze of the other guests and saw him at the top of the grand staircase: a young man with shiny light blonde curls and a noble aura, that gave away that he wasn’t some common noble man. He was a striking figure, tall and regal, with a presence that immediately commanded attention. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him. For a moment, everything else faded away. He moved through the crowd with an air of confidence, exchanging pleasantries with the debutantes and their chaperones, who swarmed him like moths to a flame. “That must be Prince Friedrich! The queen’s nephew. I heard he’s here to find a wife!” Penelope whispered under her breath in excitement. “He’s even more handsome in person, isn’t he?” You tried to remain inconspicuous, but your heart raced as he drew nearer. You watched as he spoke with Daphne Bridgerton, his smile polite but distant, before moving on to greet others. “Of course he has to exchange pleasantries with diamond of the season,” the redhead next to you mumbled to herself. You could only nod, your eyes following the prince as he continued his circuit around the room. The prince was a dream beyond your reach, and a harsh reminder of the societal heights you could never hope to attain. The moment that thought crossed your mind, your eyes met his across the room. For a moment, everything else faded away. You imagined to see some kind of curiosity in his gaze, and something else - a surprising and unspoken connection send thrills through you.

“Is he coming in our direction? He is coming in our direction, is he not?” Penelope’s nervous squeal brought you back to reality. Before you could evaluate the situation, the prince - who was indeed coming in your direction - came to a sudden halt in front of you. The room seemed to hold its breath as he stood there with a smile that made your pulse quicken. “Good evening, Miss...” he looked at you with a questioning air, a warm smile still painting his lips. Penelope gave you a sudden nudge that broke you out of your trance, and you curtsied quickly. “Miss Withlock, your Highness.” “Miss Withlock.” the prince said, his voice soft and accented. “May I have the honor of this dance?” You barely managed a nod, your voice catching in your throat. “Of course, your Highness.” As he smoothly led you onto the dance floor, your felt a mixture of exhilaration and terror. You had hoped for an easy and unremarkable season, but now you found yourself in the literal center of attention, dancing with a prince while a shocked murmur went through the staring ton. The music swelled around both of you, as the waltz began. “You dance beautifully, Miss Withlock,” Prince Friedrich remarked genuinely, his eyes never leaving yours. “You flatter me, your Highness,” you replied, feeling a searing blush rise to your cheeks. “You are a most graceful partner.” He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Please, call me Friedrich. Titles are for formalities, and I would rather this conversation not be so formal.” Your heart fluttered at his words. “Very well, Friedrich. But it would be only fair if you may call me Y/N.” “Y/N,” he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of your name on his tongue. “Tell me, how you finding the season so far?” You hesitated, then decided on honesty. “It has been... overwhelming, to say the least. But there have been moments of enjoyment as well.” Friedrich nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can understand that. These events can be quite daunting, even for those of us accustomed to them.” You continued to dance, the world around you fading into the background with each move. You felt a connection with Friedrich that you couldn’t quite explain, a sense of ease and comfort in his mere presence. “I must admit,” Friedrich said after a moment, “I find these gatherings rather tedious at times. It is refreshing to meet someone who seems to share the sentiment.” You laughed softly. “I imagine being a prince comes with its own set of challenges. Do you often feel out of place?” Friedrich’s eyes darkened slightly. “More often than I care to admit. There is a great deal of pressure to meet expectations, to play a role that is not always true to oneself.” You nodded, understanding all too well. “I can relate. My family’s... history make it difficult to navigate these waters. There are expectations, hopes and judgments that seem impossible for me to escape.” Friedrich’s grip on you tightened slight, a comforting gesture. “I know well what it is to carry the weight of family expectations. But I also believe that we must find our own paths, make our own choices.” You looked up at him, heart pounding at his honesty. “Do you truly believe that, Friedrich? That we can choose our own destiny?” He smiled, a light in his eyes. “Yes, I do. And I believe that it is worth fighting for.”

You danced in silence for a few moments, a feeling of belonging and mutual understanding between growing stronger with each step and twirl. You suddenly felt a sense of hope you hadn’t known before, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for something extraordinary in your life. As the music drew to a close, Friedrich led you to the edge of the edge of the dance floor, his gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, Y/N. This has been the most enjoyable dance I have had in a long time.” “Thank you, Friedrich,” you replied softly. “I feel the same.” Bowing slightly, a smile played on his lips. “Until we meet again.” As he moved away, you abruptly felt the weight of countless scrutinizing eyes on you, and heard the whispering of the merciless ton around you. Lady Whistledown would surely have much to say about this encounter. “Y/N, you were magnificent,” Penelope whispered, pulling you away from the judging gazes, back to you shared spot at the wall. “He could not take his eyes off you.” You shook your head at her, trying to quell the rising tide of hope and fear. “It was just a dance, Penelope. Nothing more.” But even as you said those words, you knew they rang hollow in your heart. Something had shifted with you - a new, unknown path unfolding before you. The carefully laid plans for an uneventful season were crumbling and, as the evening drew to a close, you felt a mixture of emotions: excitement, fear, and a deep, unspoken yearning.

Back home, as you prepared for bed, your thoughts kept returning to the prince. You wondered if you had the strength to navigate the treacherous waters of the ton. But one thing was certain: your debut had been far from ordinary, and your heart had been irrevocably touched by a prince.

[rinadragomir]

My thoughts on the couples included in Better in Black for those who care

I expect you to write down yours so work work

📍Wessa

You know, as a dedicated Jessa stan I wanna say that it's okay~ Because these two were together for 50 years or sth, there's still some things to add. We might watch them in their 30s, 50s, 60s. I guess at this point both camps have around the same amount of content. Plus I'll have Jessa in twp so I'm in peace 🌱

📍Clace

All my first thoughts are over here. I'm a Clace defender, I'm their oldest stan, I'm a veteran👩‍🦳 So I feel like I have a right to say that...it was kinda unnecessary. We've witnessed every step in their relationship so far, beginning of it in TMI, gentle transition to adulthood in TDA and Tales of Shadowhunter Academy, adulthood in SOBH and proposal. So if the story isn't about their wedding then WHAT THE HELL IS IT ABOUT REALLY? And we know that they won't get married until twp.

📍Anna & Ari (Arianna!)

Hey🥺that is nice, we've seen so little of them in chain of thorns and I've loved them since their debut in 2018 in that short story. I'm very biased when it comes to TLH, cause I'm their mother. So YAY🌱they have a long way to go, Anna still needs to change a tiny little bit for them to be healthy, so I'd love to witness it

📍Jordelia

We all have known about it, because Cassie kinda promised us their story a while ago. Wedding runes scene, honeymoon, kids, mortgage etc. Go kids, slay, serve, eat and so on, I'm excited for u!

📍Sebastian & Seelie Queen

🤨🧐🤔👁👁

Yeah... That famous Sebastian &Fanbase. Like... I'm conflicted, because it's useless and doesn't make any sense even tho it might slay. Listen up, I'll show you.

Lots of people defend it by saying that it might be important for Ash's background in TWP. But... No it's not. Because this is exclusive book made for few people who were lucky and financially stable enough to get it. It won't be posted online. So most people won't read it unless someone leaks it. So there's no point for that story to be important for the plot, therefore it has nothing to do with it.

And it's definitely not "one of the most beloved" couples. BUT LIKE... WHAT IF IT SLAYS? Toxic, unhinged romance, what if I'll love it? 🤡

📍Jemma

So you see the problem? Because it's the same as Clace. What else might she add, because there's nothing. SoBH ended like yesterday. We know exactly where they live rn, their daily routine, their plans. So there's nothing to add between SOBH and twp. What will it be about? Hard to say, but I hope Cassie will come up with sth interesting for them.

📍Thomastair (why did Cassie say Alistair instead of Alastair, I'm lost help me)

Yay🥺slay, serve, eat and leave no crumbs, go, kill it idk you're doing great boys, there's so much to add and explore because they've just started dating. I'm so excited ^-^

📍Kierartkina

That is fine. No matter what I think about their relationship, because in my point of view Cristina and Kieran fell in love because Cassie said so apparently, I still don't mind them being there. Because there's also lots of things to discuss and explore. I hope the story will be soft and warm☀they've just started their advantage so it definitely makes sense

📍Sizzy

Even though we've had lots of them in TMI and Shadowhunters Academy I still think they deserve to be here. They are famous (I guess? 👁👁) and I'd like to know more about their plans for future. Simon was still a teenager in the stories collection and now I'd love to see him as a grown man being in relationship with the woman he loves.

📍Luke & Jocelyn

👁👁🤨🧐🤔👀

Well... That was... Unexpected. I guess... I've just never met their fandom but I hope it's huge af, because I don't know why else would they be here. Sophideon, Gabrily and Charlotte with Henry were supposed to be here, let's be honest. But since they're here, I do think Cassie is able to make a decent story. I expect it to be bittersweet, angsty and somehow heartwarming. I think there's nothing to say except let's wait and find out.

OVERALL I think it's pretty fine. Maximum 7/10 from me. I was ready to face the worst, but it turned out to be... Fine. So it's fine☺🌱

[readychilledwine]

Fields of Poppy

Elain Week Day 1 - Visions

Summary- After being left at your doorsteps by Rhysand, Elain begins to train her visions in ways she had hardly expected

Warnings - None

A/n - Happy @elainarcheronweek. I’m so excited to see what Elain's full potential and powers will be. I'm in love with the idea of her becoming The Fates almost. Able to see everyone's past, present, and future. This little drabble is based on that idea.

🌸Elain Week Masterlist🌸Master Masterlist🌸

Her eyes were hazed over white as you sat across from her, hands held as the two of you meditated. You barely spoke but asked, “What are you seeing?”

Elain didn't answer, focusing on the vision of the field of wild flowers she was seeing. Focusing in the two people in the vision. She could do this. She could push and uncover who they were, and you knew that. “Focus on a physical aspect,” you were firm. “Hair, clothing.”

Elain dug deeper into the vision, focusing in the color of the flowers until they became poppies, until she could hear the laughter in the fields.

“Now, close your eyes,” you whispered to her. “And feel.”

Elain fell so deeply into her vision that it felt as if she was there. Like she was watching Jurian and Vassa as they laughed and ran through the field. It was as if she felt the moment the man lifted the queen by her hips, spinning her. It was daylight, yet there the young queen was, hair blazing in the rays of light like a curtain of fire.

You stood guard, watching as the young seer stayed in her vision, watching as she became the vision of tranquility. Rhysand had brought her to your doorstep, a lost female. You would return her a powerful one. Not for him. Not for Feyre. Not for the Inner Circle, but for herself. Elain deserved that, as you had realized quickly.

She belonged to no one.

Was owned by no courts.

She was no one's puppet, but she could be the Master of Strings if she just believed in herself.

You had been blessed with foresight that manifested differently. Elain's came through visions, previews of what could come. Yours came through cards, runes, omens. Your foresight was messages directly from the Mother, her visions from the Cauldron.

She was limitless, and watching her discover that was becoming the most rewarding thing you had ever done.

Elain moved from her vision slowly, doe like eyes blinking up at you as she came back to. You watched as she processed, as she sipped her water.

“Tell me what you remember.”

Her voice, light as air, began to speak, it commanded attention, “Vassa, in her human form, during daylight hours.”

“Where were you?”

“The human realm, her kingdom, a field of flowers near a creek.”

You nodded, smiling as her ability to recall things was improving. “What kind of flowers?”

“Poppies, red. A sign of hope and peace.” She had picked up on the symbolism she was sent, a skill that had Elain smiling up at you as she slowly went to stand. “And, I don't feel nauseous.”

That sentence, 5 simple words, were a testimony to how far she had come and she knew it. She was improving everyday, her magic beginning to take its own scent of juniper and sweet grass. She tied up her long hair before moving to the table in the shade.

“Can you watch me a little longer? I want to go back. I thought I saw something else.”

You nodded at her question, “I want you to try to talk me through the vision this time. If you can't, stop, okay?”

The Oracle of Prythian nodded, eyes going white as her focus locked in. Her ability to reenter her visions was growing, a gift she'd never be able to fully repay you for.

Her very voice seemed to move the tree, “Jurian is chasing Vassa,” she began. “And they are happy…”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[une-sanz-pluis]

Philippa of England, Queen of Norway, Denmark and Sweden

Philippa of England was the youngest daughter and last child of Henry of Lancaster and Mary de Bohun, Earl and Countess of Derby, and was born on, or shortly before, 1 July 1394, when her mother died from complications in childbirth. Little is known of Philippa’s early childhood but when her father usurped the throne in 1399, becoming Henry IV, her future changed dramatically. No longer the youngest daughter of an earl, she was now a princess.

The new king almost immediately began searching for marriage alliances for his two daughters. 1401 saw Henry enter into marriage negotiations with Margrete of Denmark for Philippa to marry Margrete’s adoptive son and heir, Erik of Pomerania. Like Henry, Margrete was hoping for an alliance to strengthen her domestic position and that of the fledgling Kalmar Union of Norway, Denmark and Sweden. It wasn’t until 1405 that the marriage was formally agreed upon and in December, Philippa was proclaimed Queen of Norway, Denmark and Sweden. In August 1406, the 12-year-old Philippa sailed from England in August 1406. She married Erik at the cathedral of Lund, and her coronation soon followed. Famously, Philippa is the first documented European princess to wear white at her wedding.

She spent the next three years at Kalmar Castle in Sweden, the first year under the guidance of Katarina Knutsdotter (the granddaughter of Saint Birgitta of Sweden), and probably owing in no small part to her youth, Philippa remained in the sidelines of rule until Margrete’s death in 1412. She retained close ties to Sweden, serving as Erik’s de facto regent there, and was the only queen of the Kalmar Union to ever achieve popularity in Sweden. Of particular note is her patronage of Vadstenna Abbey, the motherhouse of the Bridgettine Order. She often stayed there when in Sweden, was a generous patron, and petitioned the pope multiple times on the Order's behalf, even enlisting the support of her brother, Henry V of England. In 1425, Philippa donated a choir dedicated to St. Anne, where she was later buried. This may have had particular significance for Philippa, as she had no surviving children..

Philippa was deeply involved in the rule of all three kingdoms of the Kalmar Union. In 1420, demonstrating Erik’s trust in her, it was decided that she would serve as regent to his heir, Bogislaw of Pomerania, should the marriage remain childless, and her widow’s pension would effectively give her a ‘queendom’ in Sweden. In 1423, Erik went on pilgrimage and Philippa served as his regent, with all power that entailed, until his return in 1425. She also obtained the resources and support Erik needed for his war against the Hanseatic League. Indeed, it was Philippa who organised the defence of Copenhagen against the bombardment of the Hanseatic League in 1428 to great acclaim.

In late 1429, Philippa, apparently in good health, travelled to Sweden to secure further support for the war against the Hanseatic League. She was staying in Vadstena Abbey when she fell seriously ill and died on the night of 5 and 6 January 1430, possibly following a stillbirth. Philippa was remembered almost universally favourably, a reputation that was surely deserved.

Sources: Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, MS Lat. 17294), "Filippa, drottning", Svenskt kvinnobiografiskt lexikon (article by Charlotte Cederbom), Steinar Imsen, “Late Medieval Scandinavian Queenship”. Queens and Queenship in Medieval Europe, Mary Anne Everett Green, Lives of the princesses of England from the Norman conquest, Vol 3.

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - V True Love's Touch

masterlist

e&b masterlist

notes: double post????!!!! *gasp* i wanted to introduce Hoseok's POV sooner to try to give context on how fast a soulmate bond can fall into place and affect the yandere men.

As a child, Hoseok's mother would recount tales of soulmates and the enchantment that surrounded them. According to her, a duo connected by fate possessed a certain mystical energy, whether they were aware of it or not.

Initially, Hoseok yearned for a soulmate as he envisioned the possibility of inheriting those mystical powers. Perhaps the ability to levitate objects, or even to manipulate minds. In his more fanciful moments, he imagined conjuring fire from his fingertips.

As Hoseok matured, his aspirations evolved. He came to realize that the magic his mother spoke of differed from the enchantments found in his childhood storybooks. It was a different kind of magic, deemed "forbidden" by the kingdom. Moreover, he grew aware of the beautiful facade his mother wore, concealing the monstrous nature that lurked beneath—a creature harboring that same forbidden magic.

As an adult, Hoseok desired a soulmate not for the allure of magic, but for the prospect of experiencing love. He cherished the time spent with the horses while evading his royal responsibilities. He treasured the thoughtful inventions Yoongi crafted for him each year on his birthday. Despite their quirks, he held a deep love for all of his brothers.

Yet, what Hoseok truly yearned for was a distinct kind of love—a bond forged between him and his soulmate, one that intertwined their destinies for eternity. It was a love that transcended the barriers of time and circumstance, unbreakable and unwavering in its devotion.

Hoseok had nearly lost faith in the tales his mother had woven for him—that soulmates could be found through the simplest of touches. She spoke of a bond that could ignite with a mere brush of fingers against each other, an instant knowing that would arise upon contact with one's soulmate.

He had been on the brink of resigning himself to a life devoid of the love he yearned for, stuck with the mundane duties of being the third eldest prince. That was, until fate intervened. It happened unexpectedly, a chance encounter in the ballroom earlier that day when he accidentally brushed past you.

As his hand grazed yours, it felt as though a surge of lightning shot through him, jolting him to attention. Startled, he recoiled, instinctively ready to retaliate against whoever had hurt him while he tried to blend in with the rest of the staff.

As his gaze fell upon you, it was as if everything clicked into place within him. The restlessness he had long tried to ignore melted away, replaced by a sense of calm that washed over him. There was a magnetic pull in the energy you put out, drawing him in with an irresistible force.

In that moment, he realized with certainty that you were the soulmate he had been searching for all those years. It mattered not that you were a maid; in his eyes, you were deserving of being a Queen. Your attire, though plain, held no significance to him. Even if you were draped in mere scraps of old parchment, you would still shine with the radiance of a princess adorned in the finest attire money could buy.

It was as if the world had been dull and colorless before, and in the moment he encountered you, it burst into vivid hues. The once lackluster ballroom transformed before his eyes, no longer a mundane setting for the annual winter ball. Instead, it shimmered with a newfound vibrancy, bathed in enchanting shades of blue and silver.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he experienced genuine happiness. It was as if a new chapter had begun in his life, one filled with excitement and promise, far from the monotonous existence within the castle walls. No longer did he feel confined to a future dictated by his mother's choices, destined to wed some lackluster lady she had selected for him.

He wouldn’t settle for anyone but you.

He couldn't help himself when he noticed you gazing around the room, a charming expression of confusion adorning your face. It was evident you were struggling with the centerpieces.

He understood the risk of conversing with you in the presence of others, especially while disguised in a stableboy's attire. The last thing he wanted was for his mother or father to catch wind of your connection, fearing they might steal you from him.

Despite the risk, he felt an overwhelming need to speak with you. He longed to hear your voice, to bask in your presence, if only for a fleeting moment. Waiting until he was certain nobody was watching, he cautiously made his way towards you.

Your voice, beautiful and smooth, captivated him completely. He found himself longing to sit and listen to you speak for hours on end. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, drawing him in. Despite the pull you exerted on him, he forced himself to stay focused as he guided you through arranging the keys.

He wished to have you by his side at the ball, to attend as his honored guest, each of you bearing matching keys. The thought of showcasing you to the entire room, dancing together to the melodic waltzing music that would fill the night, filled him with a sense of longing.

He envisioned adorning you in silk gowns and glittering jewelry, even crowning you as his Queen. However, he knew he was getting ahead of himself. Rushing into such grand gestures without careful planning could endanger you.

So, after guiding you through arranging the centerpieces, he excused himself, his mind already racing with plans. He was determined to make you his, and himself yours, and he was certain that nothing would stand in the way of turning that dream into a reality.

[zukkaoru]

”only you” with kunikidazai

:}

anon you come into my house.. bearing the words that could kill any outlaw queen fan on sight.... this ask took so long to answer solely because of the psychic damage it dealt me /lh

-

“You’re terrible at this,” Kunikida laughs as Dazai trips over his own feet for the fifth time. “I thought you said you could dance?”

“I could,” Dazai whines. He falls forward, slumping against Kunikida. “My leg won’t cooperate anymore! It’s too stiff. Bleh.”

“We can stop—”

“No!” Dazai straightens up. She blows a strand of hair out of her eyes, then cups Kunikida’s face with both hands. “Just a little longer. My leg isn’t hurting yet, I promise.”

“Fine,” Kunikida gives in easily. He gives Dazai a quick kiss, then readjusts his hands. Dazai does the same, and then they’re slowly moving in time with the music once again. Kunikida is leading, and he’s much better at it than Dazai expected him to be considering Dazai was forced to take actual lessons learning how to slow dance as a teenager.

Of course, back when he learned, he didn’t have to worry about his leg buckling under his weight, so he didn’t have to be half as careful with how each footstep fell. It’s one of the less frustrating skills he’s lost in the past few months, but still, he’s gritting his teeth and forcing himself to relearn it as best he can. If only to prove he can.

“Dazai,” Kunikida mumbles.

She hums in response.

“You know I don’t mind if you can’t do this, right?”

“Of course I know.” She really doesn’t want to talk about this right now. “Spin me!”

Kunikida does as Dazai asked, spinning her out and then back in, and she barely stumbles at all, but Kunikida still leans forward just a bit to catch her. They end up with their faces mere millimeters apart, and Kunikida’s eyes shine with a nauseating combination of affection and concern.

“Still doing okay?” he asks.

Dazai nods. He swallows down whatever horribly warm feeling is bubbling up in his chest and throat. It’s soft and beautiful and something he knows he will never deserve. But pinned beneath Kunikida’s gaze, some of that slips away. It’s harder to hold onto when Kunikida looks at him like that.

Like—

there’s no one in the world apart from them.

Like the only moment that exists is this one, right now. No blood trails in their pasts, no pain in their futures—nothing but the two of them in each other’s arms.

“Just keep your eyes on me,” Kunikida reminds him as they begin moving again.

“Only you,” Dazai promises. Like that’s all he’s ever known.

[writingsofwesteros]

so i’ve never seen you writing fro cersei so feel free to ignore this request if you don’t like it.

i was thinking mother in low cersei punishing reader, margaery’s little sister, because she’s going to marry tommen. she just wants the best for his son and she’s ready to remind her of her position even if she’ll be future queen. maybe then cersei will try to correct her more times just for fun. she likes her all bothered, humiliated and also a little bit pleasured.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The Queen mother’s delicate fingers moved through your long, thick brown locks as you looked innocently through the mirror to her. “Thank you for helping me.” You whispered; the quiet had you growing nervous as well as being in the room with the famous Lioness. Gods, you wished your sister was in your place.

“Hmm, my son deserves the best.” Cersei whispered; enjoying how tense you were a little more than she should. The lioness had enjoyed the sight of your bitch of a grandmother as her face fell when the Queen picked you. The sweet, innocent rose with no thorns that would be so easy to manipulate.

You chewed on your plump, bottom lip nervously at her words. You did not believe you were the best and something inside you thought the Queen did not either. “It would seem I have my work cut out in making you the best.” She purred into your ear and watched as you gulped at her closeness.

Her hand gently rested on your shoulder that the beautiful blue, highgarden style sat with. It showed off your smooth skin that the Queen was now stroking. “I am sure you will not disappoint me.” Cersei hummed as her hand moved over your shoulder now and down the valley of your breasts.

A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes widened at her touch. Goosebumps quickly rushed over your soft skin. “Hmm, will you?” She whispered; her soft lips brushing against your ear as she cupped one of your ample breasts. “Cersei…” You whimpered out in shock; your lips parting. 

Her fingers brushed against your easily pebbling nipple as you began to move in your seat, trying to hide from her. “Shh, pretty one.” Cersei hummed, slowly moving around the table. “Let us make you presentable.” She purred and watched in delight as a blush made its way over your cheeks.

Her hand moved onto your thigh now and you nearly jumped. The act had her chuckling as she leaned closer. “You will be good, will you not?” Cersei whispered as you lost yourself in her eyes for a moment before finding the strength to nod your head. “Yes, promise..” You whispered out; her hand slowly moving higher.

She watched as your pretty little eyes widened in anticipation before she slowly leaned in. Her soft lips brushing against yours. You were shocked and whined as her tongue moved in. You clumsily tried to pull away but her free hand moved to the back of your neck and pulled you closer.

“It seems I will have to teach you to kiss.” The queen hummed as she leaned away. Your eyes glazed over as you stared at her in shock. She took that moment to move her hand in between your legs. “Oh, at least you get wet.” She taunted you as your legs clamped together; trapping her.

Her chuckles echoed around the room as her knuckles brushed against your weeping, bare folds. “If I didn't know better, I would say you wanted this.” Cersei purred, pushing her knuckle against your clit that had you jolting from the chair. Your eyes still wide as you not so gracefully moved to stand. 

All Cerise did was smirk at you; her soaked fingers moving to her mouth and her tongue moved over them.

~

“I do apologise, my Lord, I’m sure the little rose will remember your name next time.” Cersei purred to the man in front of her. Gods, you had not even noticed his presence. How could you when the Queen’s fingers were stuffed inside your weeping pussy and had been since the feast had started. 

“Say sorry.” She whispered into your ear; her fingers pushing deeper as she leaned close. “..Apologies..I..I hope you enjoy your evening.” You babbled out. Your cheeks flushed as you stuttered but it seemed to be enough for the man who only bowed his head before turning around.

“It seems I have my work cut out for me.” Cersei whispered into your ear and watched in delight at your humiliation. Gods, you were so fun to play with. She had chosen well. “I believe we might need some lessons.” She continued to whisper; her fingers began to move now whilst her thumb brushed over your clit.

“I wonder..will you need lessons in the bedroom too.” She purred and pinched your clit without warning. A sharp cry escaped you as you reached to cling to the table in front of you. Thankfully, the music of the feast was loud and attentions were elsewhere whilst unfortunately for you, the Queen’s attention was for you only.

“Please…please stop..” You whispered to her. Soft whimpers escaped you when her fingers curled. A spot she touched had you gasping for air as she fiercely pushed against it again and again. “Oh, there it is.” Cersei hummed, leaning in as if to whisper into your ear as she cheekily added a third finger.

You stretched so prettily as your hand reached for her own. If you were stronger, you would have tried to push her away. But all you could do was whimper and take what she gave you. “Good girl…you are going to cum in front of all these people, my pretty little whore.” Cersei hummed.

You hated how it was her words that pushed you over the edge. Her fingers continued to fuck you as you squirted around them. Her palm hit your clit with each move that had you rocking against her. Your legs were shaking now whilst her knuckles moved to pinch your clit again and again.

“Lady Tyrell, may I have this dance…” Your eyes widened at the sound of your husband to be. “Of course she would, darling.” Cersei hummed and not so gently removed her soaked fingers. “Go on then..” She whispered, leaning back into her seat as if nothing had happened. 

She watched in delight as you struggled to stand up. “It seems she’s had some wine.” Cersei giggled whilst Tommen took with a gentle smile and brought you to him. Your inner thighs are completely soaked with your wetness as you rested your head on his shoulder. Your eyes caught sight of Cersei sucking on her fingers.

[lovefrombegonia]

Just some rambling IWTV season 2 flashback to the dreadful ep of Lestat throwing Louis from the sky...

⚠️ SPOILER WARNING ⚠️

In the trial episode, when there was a flashback to what happened that night with Louis and Lestat...well...from what we know now, they beat each other. And when Louis just smashed Lestat's face on their coffin so hard, they fell to the opposite sides, I laughed so fucking hard. Like WTF 💀💀 I was actually reluctant to watching any flashback to that episode but I am glad that they didn't make it what I thought they did back then. Anyways, back at them vampire boyfriends having a meltdown while they give zero fucks about their terrified, traumatized daughter, I calmed down a bit,, it's getting serious...

Then Louis tried to get up, looked at Lestat's face, and started laughing while saying "look at your fucking face". Cut to Lestat's face--bruh I was laughing like a psychopath at the man's bloody face 😂😂 coz he did look fucking horrible like a bloody clown, mouth half open! Eyes all like this: 🩸👁️👄👁️🩸

This is extra weird to me when I think about how the same event but in season 1, from Claudia's POV was so fucking horrifying and triggering to me. I almost wanted to shut the show down. Oh lord, I feel like I just enjoy seeing Lestat get beat up sometimes. That's ok. He deserves some beating. Louis gotta put a leash on him with how fucking feral he gets.

One thing tho, this was also Louis's retellings, right? In season 1. So, why did he say the story in such a way that it looked like, Lestat was just beating the shit out of him. Louis wouldn't lie just to make Lestat look worse than he already is. I don't get it coz, regardless of whether Louis did beat Lestat back or not, what Lestat did after that, by dropping Louis from sky high...that reaction from Lestat was already horrible enough on its own. Nowhere near a proportional reaction to what Louis did or said to him. So, Louis just...wanted to keep Daniel in suspense or what LOL Or was that scene from s1 supposed to be from Claudia's diary POV? I don't remember now if it was flashback to Daniel reading the diary. And I don't wanna watch that episode again. Might be that it's simply the show keeping us on our toes. If so then idk what to feel about the show doing that. I also don't think Lestat's face looked as bloody in s1 during this happening. Probably a continuity error. Or...a memory manipulation by Armand? Louis didn't at all notice the different retellings of the same night tho, neither did Daniel. Or maybe Lestat did have a bloody face.

Introducing the memory manipulation and memory erasing power gives some new meanings to previous events. Definitely, makes things more interesting. I do hope the seasons ahead are just as good as season 2 was. Even new powers. Show us Magnus and Akasha too. Armand looked shooketh when Lestat almost whisper-said the name 👀

I know that Akasha has a movie called Queen of the Damned. She looks...majestic. The Lestat beside her tho, looks like budget Edward Cullen. The movie has low ratings too. Idk if I should watch it and potentially spoil the future seasons. Or just wait for the next season and then watch it. I have seen a little bit of this film tho, on television. She just sauntered down vaguely in a disco. Hard to forget her, in that sexy attire and just fucking amazing look over all. Hot af

I already know some minor spoilers about Lestat. Well, one spoiler. That Lestat had...Alabama mommy issues 😭😭 what is this wrong with this French dude. Louis and Claudia really got paired with the most unhinged vampire...

[IGNORE EVERYTHING I SAY. I FEEL LIKE SHIT. I KNOW NOTHING.]

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Queen Adam AU Part 7)

*Lute watched Lilith in disgust, she wasn’t half the leader Adam was, it was a shock at first when she met Adam and she learned that he was going to be her commander, but she got to know him, she grew to love him, not in a romantic way, but as her best friend, he was funny, talented, loyal, and kind, the only trait Lilith had was being talented, she hadn’t seen Adam in a while and she missed him, in Hell Adam sat by Sera who had just fallen and held her hand, it shocked him that Heaven was doing this, Emily walked in and sat by Adam*

Adam: She fell because she was protecting me from the Vees.

Emily: Don’t blame yourself, it isn’t your fault that Heaven is losing sight of what it was meant to be.

Adam: I know.

Sera: She is right, I would fall a thousand times time if it meant I could save you my Starlight and I would do the same for Emily too. Heaven is meant to be paradise and it became cruel. You should check on Lucifer as well, he is probably sad he couldn’t protect you.

Adam: Of course.

*Adam went to Lucifer, he was shocked to Lucifer sitting in his office sobbing in his hands, Adam went over to Lucifer and held him in his arms*

Lucifer: I couldn’t protect you and I was under their powers as well. I am an archangel and a fucking overlord had me under their control. I failed you.

Adam: You didn’t fail me, I am here because you love and protected me. You have saved me so many other times and you will save even more times in the future because I know how much you love me. Come let me love you.

*Adam carried Lucifer to their room, meanwhile in Heaven Lute was approached by a pair of Exorcists who were twins named Jett and Cobra*

Jett: We have terrible news.

Cobra: There is going to be an Extermination Day and Lilith is going to track down and kill Adam.

*Lute’s eyes widened in shock, Lilith could kill Adam because he wasn’t Hellborn and if she tried to warn him, she would fall*

Lute knew that Adam needed someone in his corner up in heaven. Ever since the incident with Michael the Queen of Hell lost a lot of favour with most of the angels.

Lute: Why are you telling me this when I can't warn him.

Cobra: Because you deserve to know. And also.

Cobra lowered his voice: One of us would be willing to go down to Hell for you. Nothing has been the same since Lilith took over. Even her training is wrong.

Lute: You would do that?

Jett: We would. Heaven hasn't been the same without him. And if saving his life means I'm damned to Hell, then I'll proudly go. But you need to stay. He needs an ear in the sky.

Lute: I'm forever grateful for this.

Jett: You're welcome.

-

Adam worshipped Lucifer's body in the same way his King would do for him.

Adam: I love every inch of you my King. You are perfect in every way. Please never forget how much I love you. How much I will always love you.

Lucifer: I love you so much Adam, my Queen, my beautiful angel. More than you will ever know.

Adam kissed him slowly and sweetly as he got on top of Lucifer.

He made love to his husband, going slow so savor every moment and putting all his love into every movement.

Adam: You are such a wonderful husband and father to our babies. I never want to stop having your babies.

Lucifer: I never want to stop having babies with you either, you're so perfect. Too perfect for me.

They shared an emotional kiss as they both finished, with the prospect of a new addition to the Morningstar family.

Adam laid down beside Lucifer and covered his face with kisses.

Adam: I'll love you forever.

Lucifer: I'll love you forever. You're the love of my life, I'd never love again if I lost you.

Adam: I'm not going anywhere.

[ikemenlibrary]

The Smell of Seawater - Ikémen Prince

Pairing: Silvio Ricci x Emma Summary: An AU, in which their love is a game to the king, where Silvio must date a group of women to decide who the future queen will be. Silvio never expected to fall in love, and yet here he is, pledging his life vow to the woman everyone thought would be the first eliminated

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of throw up, corsets, and self doubt

A note from the author: Something small for my favorite, @xbalayage. You've done so much lately, you deserve something for yourself.

Standing beside the other two girls, Emma felt out of place. All three of them were holding hands, gripping each other nervously with warm and sweaty hands. It felt suffocating to her, and Emma dropped Annalise’s hand and met her confused look with a small smile. 

“Sorry, sweaty hands,” She explained apologetically. This gave her a moment to break free from the stress, and kick off her shoes, the warm sand tickling her bare feet as she walked away from the ever forming crowd. Annalise wouldn’t be caught dead walking off near the ocean, soiling her perfect pink dress; Emma didn’t want her dress ruined, but a little bit of sand and water never hurt anyone. 

She was thankful for the fact that she didn’t have much breakfast this morning, despite the cherry tarts being absolutely scrumptious. If she were to have eaten much more, the ground would be decorated with some half-digested pastry with the way her stomach was bubbling under the corset Emma was stuffed into before breakfast.

Silvio would be coming to greet the three of them soon, and in the same conversation, send two of them back to the life they had before they met him. Despite telling herself she would be okay if he chose either of the other two, Emma knew if she wasn’t the one whose name fell off of his lips when he announced who had stolen his heart - or who he at least liked enough to have rule Benitoite by his side - during all of this time together that she wouldn’t be able to force a smile on her face and support the woman he chose.

Yet, she was also terrified of what it would mean if he did say her name. She’d be ripped from her commoner life, and put into fancy dresses every day that was worth more than her parents house and retirement combined. She would have to learn elegance, and class. Two things that Silvio can’t help but remind her she lacks with a teasing tone and a barely-there smile. 

The sand underneath her feet was calming, and she bent over to cup a handful of it, only to let it fall from her hand a moment later. Hand selected, then forced back to a life of mundane. It was almost like how things will be for two of the girls being sent home soon. It was almost calming in a way; knowing this was something Emma could control, yet also so many factors could stop the sand from reaching the ground once again. Nothing she couldn’t handle though, and that was comforting when everything else around her was out of her control.

“Miss Emma?” One of the guards approached her. She had seen him around once or twice, but had never had a chance to ask his name. “His Majesty is –” 

“You can call me Emma,” She interjected, a jumble of nerves twisting at the mention of Silvio.

“Yes, Miss Emma, I apologize,” He bowed before her, and over his shoulder, Emma saw a flash of Silvio’s light hair, glinting more blue in the sunlight than the usual gray. “I was sent over to tell you to prepare yourself…”

Whatever else the guard was saying fell on deaf ears as she saw, not heard, her name leaving Silvio’s lips from a distance away, their eyes meeting across the palace grounds, then she watched as his eyes skimmed down her body, stopping at her bare feet, and a small - almost imperceptible - smile adorned his lips. Her heartbeat sped up, a loud ba-dum, ba-dum in her throat as Silvio started walking towards her, his pace picking up as she pushed herself through the sinking sand, the tulle of her dress sticking up awkwardly in some places from being crushed, yet she didn’t care. Not when Silvio was coming towards her, looking at her like she was the only woman in the world. Not when she felt like destiny was rushing toward her. 

He was closer now, the sun was making the jewels on his lapels shine even brighter and she could make out the pink flush of his cheeks, and the sparkle in his eyes he always tried so hard to hide. It was warm out, and he was starting to sweat, as given away by his hair being less than perfect and flopping down over his forehead in separated strands. She loved when he looked disheveled, it made him seem more his age, and less like a sculpture, less like a shell of a tyrant - a human. He was here, and he was real and his arms were wrapping around Emma’s waist and pulling her against him, sand and salty sea water be damned.

She felt him before she tasted him, his solid body flushed with hers and before she could even try to search his eyes for an answer, his hands were cupping her cheeks and gently but urgently pulling her lips towards his own. Whether it was a statement to the rest of the world that she was the one he truly loved, or a claim of possession - or maybe even both, Emma didn’t know. All she cared about as she wrapped her arms around his waist was that they didn’t have to stay quiet about their adoration for each other anymore. Silvio doing this made it clear that she was the one who stole his heart, and he was going to hold onto hers. 

Pulling apart, Silvio was slightly breathless, pressing his forehead against her own. His sweaty bangs would mess with the makeup perfectly applied by her maids earlier this morning, and she was sure the King would have something to say about that after the pictures were printed in the paper - “shiny foreheads are not befitting of a future queen.”, but at this moment, all there was to focus on was Silvio. 

His sparked eyes sparked alight, yet also had a soft tenderness she had noticed in the past only once or twice before. The soft, content smile on his face was so dazzling that she closed her eyes for a moment as he brushed back some of my hair that had blown onto my cheek, his hand falling to grip at her hip as she listened to his voice, soothing for a moment. 

“I’ve got ya, Em. Just focus on me, ignore the cameras, ignore the people around us. Right now, it’s just you, and a man who has fallen for ya, somehow.”

She let out a puff of air, a smile forming on her lips as he tenderly stroked her cheek with his thumb. The calm before the storm, in a sense, because the minute we turned our faces from each other, we’d be barraged with flashes of lights from cameras, news reporters shoving microphones in our direction, and I’d have to see Annalise and Eliza’s faces as they pushed back tears for the press. But for right now, they basked in the warmth of the sun glowing on their skin, and the love that had formed between them.

Silvio pulled away first, meeting the presses questioning gazes with a charming smile. “May I introduce to you the future queen of Benitoite? Emma!”

She forced a smile onto her face as Silvio linked her hand with his own, his thumb rubbing comforting circles into her skin as she waved for the press with her free hand. It was intimidating; being so vulnerable and open with so many strangers, and having their love publicly declared. It wasn’t anything she was used to, and yet with Silvio at her side, it made everything a little easier.

Silvio continued, more regal than Emma had really ever seen him before, but it was just another part of him to fall in love with. “I’ve enjoyed countless moments with each of these lovely women.” Liar, Emma thought. After one particularly boring date with Eliza, Emma found Silvio at her bedroom door in the scandalous early morning, and he practically fell into her room moaning about he could never marry such a boring woman. But she was his father’s pick of the litter, and so he had to play nice, for now at least. “But I cannot deny that during my time with Emma, I fell in love with her. Not only is her heart pure and kind, but she’s smart, and witty, and can match me toe to toe. She’s going to be a lovely queen one day.”

To seal the deal, Silvio leaned over, pressing a tender kiss to the side of Emma’s cheek. Emma guiltily looked towards the two girls who had been standing with her not too long ago, and her stomach dropped as she watched Annalise wipe her eyes with a handkerchief she must have gotten from a guard. Her nose was red, her eyes were puffy, and she was still gorgeous. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiled, and her peachy pink lipstick looked like it had just been freshly applied. 

Emma knew that Annalise had fallen in love with Silvio, and although she knew where Silvio’s heart lay, she also knew that Annalise, a princess from a small country across the sea, was the perfect candidate. She already knew all the proper etiquette, and she was graceful and poised and…. Perfect. She was who should’ve  ended up with Silvio, if all things were supposed to have gone to plan. There’s no way she’d ever mess up Benitoite, or be awkward in front of news reporters.

Silvio brought her out of her daze, placing his hand on the small of her back and ushering her away from the crowds, slipping off his own shoes and letting the shallow waves wash over his bare feet. She could feel his gaze on her as she looked out into the horizon, the sun shining brightly over the waves, making the water shimmer. “Hey,” Silvio said, squeezing her waist affectionately as he pulled Emma closer. “Talk to me.” She hummed her response, letting her head fall to his shoulder as she relaxed in his arms. “I saw your mind spinning when you saw Anna crying.”

“She loves you,” Emma said, sighing. “I just feel bad.”

“I love you,” Silvio replied, kissing Emma’s head. “I can’t help it that you’re the person I wanna be with.”

“She would’ve been the perfect queen.” Emma argued. 

“You’re perfect to me.” Emma had no retort to his remark. It was so sweet and sincere, almost jarring, since Silvio was usually brash and loud. “See, ya can’t argue with me forever.” Silvio let go of his hold on her, kicking some water at her feet and smiling as Emma shrieked. “I’m still the future king after all.”

Emma bent over, cupping water in her hands to throw at Silvio’s chest and before he could grab her and drag her into the water with him, she ran, giggles bubbling past her lips as Silvio pushed to chase after her, the sand causing him to stumble as he caught up to her, and pulled her down to the ground with him.

They were face to face, Silvio’s hardened body pressed against her own as he lay on top of her, his sea blue eyes searching her own, any trace of giggles gone. He smelled like seawater, and Emma found herself finding solace in that smell - it was the scent that could remind her of her beloved no matter where she found herself, whether she was in his arms or they were apart.

The sea always managed to bring her home in Silvio’s arms.

Without saying anything else, Silvio closed the small distance between the two, a sweet kiss shared between two - unofficially - engaged lovers. She could never get enough of his taste; sweet rose wine and toothpaste. Two things that on their own seemed awful together, but when  they’re on the tongue of your loved one, seemed like the best combination in the whole world.

“You’re so pretty,” Silvio commented, pushing a piece of Emma’s hair out of her eyes. She felt her cheeks flush and she knew she probably looked like a disheveled mess.

“Please,” Emma said, reaching out to trace Silvio’s cheekbone with her thumb. “Shut up.”

She guided his lips back to her own as she heard him murmur into their kiss. “Gladly,”

The sea roared on around them, but neither of them cared. The smell of seawater from now on would always bring back memories of this day, and would be something that they would one day share with their children while they explain to them how sacred love should be, much like the sea, and hope that one day, they too, can be reminded of true love by even the faintest scent of seawater.