#Sorceress River

[karalija]

“Glycerine”

Squall and Rinoa from Final Fantasy 8. Just a quiet moment between the emo Commander and his sorceress wifey. I love them so damn much 🖤

Title is from the song “Glycerine” by Bush.

[siebedraws]

Small redesign for one of my D&D characters from a few years ago. Her name is River, and she is a draconic bloodline sorceress.

[mindstack]

[anthonyspage]

🌥🌕⛰🌊🌹🐺👩🪄🔮✨

[sesamenom]

The elves of Lothlorien are absolutely analogous to wolves. Amdir, for one, is a possible Doriath survivor who brought a massive army to the Dagorlad and died in the charge. Amroth led a host of the Sindar in the War of Elves and Men, and later succeeded in besieging Angmar. Galadriel kinslayed on the side of the Teleri and led the Host over the Helcaraxe!

However, the elves of Third Age Lothlorien are more like vaguely-human-accustomed nature park wolves. They're still just as creepy and terrifying (Galadriel's whole Lady Of The Golden Wood sorceress legend is definitely A Thing, to the point where even neighboring kingdoms refuse to believe that she's actually pretty nice), plus the fact that they live smack dab in the middle of the crossroad between Moria, Dol Guldur, and Isengard, but the older Doriathrim have mostly figured out methods of communication that do not involve violence, and the younger generations are generally pretty welcoming to established friends. If you're a stranger, they don't seem that much different from regular wolves, but if you're a regular visitor of that particular nature park, they probably won't mind you pointing and staring a bit from the pathway, provided you aren't aggressive about it.

Modern fantasy seems to have shifted to a midpoint between Quendi and garden-gnome elves, with the "enlightened vegetarian" vibe. Personally, I am of the belief this is at least partially, if not mostly, due to the fact that superficial pop culture only really views the heavily selection-biased late-TA elves, where the really violent ones are dead, dead, and extremely extra dead, and the remaining ones have spent the past ten thousand years learning (mostly through trial and error, it seems) problem-solving methods that include zero kinslaying and minimal screaming.

In the context of the wolf-dog analogy in relation to Middle-Earth and the greater Legendarium, the YT and First Age elves are the wolves, fell and fey, with white fire in their eyes and blood on gleaming blades, who have slain great beasts of fire and iron and fear no Shadow. The kinslayers are even moreso these wild monsters of legend, coming unto a great city in the night and leaving only blood and embers in their wake, whose cruel servants steal away children in the night.

The Second Age elves have mellowed a bit, like wolves that have learned to exist in the same general region as humans. They are just as fierce, but they concern themselves mostly in their own matters, and keep to their long-established territories. When unbothered, they are willing to open dialogues of trade or diplomacy, but little could save the Enemy from the face of their wrath, lingering ever-present under the skin of the Exiles.

By the Third Age, all those inclined to war are long-dead, save the few most powerful of their kind. There are small pockets where those ancient elves still dwell, but they are reserved to the point of being near-mythical in some regions. Hobbits tell tales of the Elf they swear the great-aunt's fourth cousin once saw in the Old Forest in much the same way people argue whether the animal the neighbor's grandfather saw crossing a suburban yard was a wandering wolf or a coyote. The Rohirrim warn of the fey Lady of the Wood, who none, they say, have laid eyes upon and yet lived, and the people of Gondor sing of the mighty deeds of the Elves, lamenting that urban sprawl has diminished the strange woods in which the Elves once dwelt.

The few Elves who are not feared are the wisest and kindest of all, akin to a particularly friendly wolf who hunts alongside its spear-wielding allies, an ambassador of its kin. Being the most visible in the records of Men, they become the most well-remembered of elves as peaceful and generous, who more readily take up pens than swords, and who hunt for food more than sport. These records distort to the modern assumption of "enlightened vegetarians", while the seldom-encountered folk of Lorien and Mirkwood Sail and Fade away.

Peredhel are rare beyond measure, with less than ten true peredhel known to date. They are strange to both kinds, more frail than a true elf, far more powerful than a Man, and uniquely gifted in entirely new ways. There are some claimed "half-elves" who perhaps had some Numenorean heritage two thousand years ago and just happen to be unnaturally tall and sharp-eyed, but they can still be firmly categorized as Men, albeit of a unique appearance.

True half-elves, though, cannot be easily classed as either. They are like to wolfdogs of very recent ancestry, tall and powerful yet sleek, eyes just different enough to be uncanny. They are swift and strong, not truly hampered by physical possibility, but they are still bound to Arda, their bodies and spirits just as secure in Middle-Earth as they are in Aman. They do not Fade, but they still bear the weight of mortal weariness; they are suited for both worlds and none. Their eyes are bright with inhuman fire, shining with the force of the Sun and the cold of the Moon, but it is not the light of the Flame Imperishable behind them: it is something entirely their own. They are their own type of being: the Line of Luthien, the Peredhel, the Sons of Elrond.

Random story thought: What if a fantasy story where there's humans and elves, who are less like different nationalities and/or "human, but in a different font", but more like the difference between dogs and wolves? Like they resemble humans, but are very, very clearly not human. And half-elves, like wolfdogs, are known to be theoretically possible, but so improbable and rare that they might as well be a myth. Like everybody's school had that one kid who loves lying for attention who keeps insisting that they actually know somebody who's a real half-elf for real.

And in the extremely rare case where their friend of a friend who's "totally actually a real half-elf" even exists at all, 99 times out of 100, the aforementioned suspected hybrid is just a 100% full human who's unusually tall, beautiful and autistic. Something that can definitely fool someone who's never seen a real half-elf, and is willing to believe that this friend's mom actually for real fucked an elf (instead of getting hunted for sport, and possibly eaten, which is the more likely outcome of encountering elves in the wild). But it's almost always just a full human with vaguely 'elvish' features.

But once in a blue moon, there actually is a real half-elf, and once you've seen one, you won't mistake a full human for one of them again. They're gangly, not just tall but long-limbed in a way that humans are not, their speech is strangely composed as if they learned their first language as a second language, and their eyes are piercing, wild, inhuman eyes, with a gaze full of strange instinctive wisdom that humans were never meant to know. Secret elvish thoughts that even they, personally, wish they didn't have.

And it sinks in to you that elves, that are so alien to you, would also find this poor creature just as strange and unsettling as you do.

[betterbooksandthings]

"The best fantasy audiobooks for adults sweep readers away with deft narration. I cannot recommend them more for fun listening.

Audiobook sales have skyrocketed over the last five years. As of 2023, audiobook revenue grew to $2 billion, continuing the trend of growth in the space. With the rising accessibility and affordability of audiobooks through apps like Libby and Hoopla, as well as the growing collection of audiobooks on paid platforms like Spotify, Audible, Libro.fm, and Audiobooks.com, it’s unsurprising. It has never been easier to listen to your favorite books.

There is nothing better than listening to heroes conquering proverbial or actual dragons in fantasy worlds. Or, better yet, listening to those dragons get vengeance because they were never the bad guys in the first place. Whatever the story, a good audiobook can completely change its reception.

It’s important to point out that what makes a good fantasy book does not always make a good fantasy audiobook. So, I took into account how the narrator or narrators sounded at regular speed as well as 2x, 3x, etc. Sometimes a narrator sounds excellent, and then you want to get through the chapters a bit faster and realize you cannot understand them at all in 2x. I also took accessibility into account so all the fantasy audiobooks for adults included in this list can be found on Spotify Premium, Libro.fm, Audible, and Audiobooks.com."

[eraenaa]

Virginal Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Prince Aemond sets out to find a whore to warm his bed; he finds a virgin instead. 

Warnings: Dub-Con, Oral Sex (f receiving), Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 3,345

Sequel: Prince's Whore

Strife, suffering, and sorrow are all the Prince now feel— perhaps even then. He could no longer stomach the tolls of the war that was reigning havoc on the lands of Westeros. He sought a moment of reprieve, solace in the arms of a lover that he could take into his bed. Harrenhall was bent to his will; everyone was taken and at his mercy. He had women in his grasp, serving girls and some highborn ladies, even a bastard of House Strong, yet as comely and shapely as they were, none were able to stir the need brewing deep inside him. He could not find the want to take them into his bed and warm his cock.

He was, for a moment, entranced by a witch who held the name Rivers. The sorceress tried to seduce him with her lingering glances and mysterious presence, and he was ready to give in, to take her to his bed, but he had caught her placing her spell upon him. Slipping a vial of an unknown substance into his wine, Aemond could not tolerate such acts. He invited her into his chambers, luring her in with the pretense that he had succumbed to her charms, and as she sank to her knees before him, his cock in her mouth, and he was on the verge of spilling his seed in her throat, he took a dagger and slit her throat— him coming undone as her lifeless body fell and her blood pooled onto the floor. 

That sufficed the need in Aemond for a short moment, but just a few days later, he found himself in want of release again— something that would quench the ache in his loins and the fire in his veins. Not just a mouth around his cock but a cunt as well.

He blended into the night and reached town; slipping into a whore house, he heard a few of the soldiers muttering about. When he entered the establishment, nothing of note came into view. It was the same as any houses of pleasure he had stumbled upon during the night. He was in desperate need of company. Scattered around him were the perfumed bodies that masked the smell of vile scents wafted about the room. His eye searched for something that could possibly sedate his raging cock. 

He peeled away his hood, uncaring that the whores and their patrons could see his silvery locks; surely they have more pleasing matters to attend to rather than his presence. As he announced himself, he was quickly approached by a rather well-dressed man who he supposed was the owner. “My prince, welcome… you honor us with your presence.” He bowed lowly, and Aemond simply scanned his eye about the room once more. Without another word, the owner snapped his finger, and Aemond saw some workers hastily running across the establishment, surely readying themselves for him. 

Aemond was led deeper into the den of depravity and into a secluded room where a bed waited along with a line of whores on their knees, waiting for the prince to take his pick. Aemond still paid no mind to the owner as he tried to sell the girls. Aemond assessed each one of them, presenting him with their seductive gazes and trying to allure them with their smiles, pushing together their breasts in the hope that would press even further desire into the prince. 

He sneered as he almost finished assessing the lines of girls, ready to demand the owner to present him with a new batch, but his gaze was then caught by a cowering figure. Her eyes were planted on the floor, and she had used her long, flowing hair to cover her body, trying to display at least one ounce of modesty. 

Aemond strayed closer to you, his curiosity peaking. When the owner’s gaze noticed the prince had focused on you, he quickly stood by your side, who was kneeling at the end of the line. “A newcomer, my prince,” He said and forcefully yanked the back of your head in order to raise your face so the prince could see your features. “I think you would like her, my prince… the prettiest one we have.” 

Aemond said no word nor made any reaction, only studying the way your lips quivered and your eyes pooled with tears as you tried to avoid his gaze. “If her face does not please you enough, I am inclined to tell you that she is a highborn lady snatched away from her traitorous lord father’s care at the start of the war,” He added in pride. It was most beneficial for his business to have an asset such as yourself. Pretty, filled with youth, and had the blood of nobles coursing through your veins. 

Aemond blinked as he felt his cock strain further into his trousers. You were certainly far from his usual type, but only you had stirred such a need in him that he had not felt in many moons. “And if that still isn’t enough to please you, your highness… I shall as well inform you that she is a virgin. Untouched by any man… but I do warn you that may not be the case in a short while.” The owner heinously laughed. Aemond did not know how to take such facts. He was accustomed to experienced hands bringing him pleasure and comfort… but there was just something in your innocence that he found wholly more appealing. 

He turned to the owner and gave a nod. You breathed sharply as the room quickly emptied out, leaving you alone in the presence of a cruel prince. You were still on your knees, and your gaze quickly panted themselves on the floor once more. Aemond placed his hood by a chair and assessed your trembling frame that still knelt on the cold floor. “What house do you come from?” He questioned and brought a chalice already filled with wine to his lips. He drank two sips from it, but you still have not answered his query. “Speak, girl. Are you a mute?” He questioned, stepping before you. “N— no… my prince,” You say, ever so silently. He reached to grab your face in his hands, his fingers squeezing your soft cheeks together, a horrified expression screaming in your eyes. 

“What traitorous house do you come from?” He almost spat. “House… House C—Celtigar, your Highness,” You almost cried, and Aemond was silently surprised. The blood that coursed through your veins was not from any plain noble house; the blood in your veins was the blood of Old Valyria. “Hm,” Aemond hummed as his fingers that held your cheeks savored the way your soft flesh felt. “And how have they taken you?” He questioned and raised the cup of wine to his lips once more, waiting for your answer. 

“I was to be sent to Essos, but they— they commandeered the ship and slain the captain, and I was— was sold off from one man to another.” You explained, your hands clenching at the sheer fabric they made you wear, the material so thin that it did nothing to hide your body. 

You boldly raised your gaze at the prince, hoping to find at least one speck of empathy in his lone eye, but you paled further as you saw a sinister smirk rise to his lips. How fortunate was Aemond to stumbled to the whorehouse at this moment, having the pick of the litter. An overly pretty, untouched noblewoman is now kneeling before him; the gods seem to take pity on his needing state that had plagued him for moons that had left him restless and irritated. “Stand,” he commanded and finally let go of his hold on your cheeks. Watching as you slowly and wobbly obeyed and stood on your feet. 

He raked his eye upon your body, from your pretty face to the apex of your neck to your breast that hid behind the curtain of your hair. His gaze continued to travel downward from the curves of your hips and waist to your sex that was hidden by a dark shadow and to your plush thighs— as he saw the limbs of lavish flesh, a deeper sense of lust overcame him. He placed the chalice down and stepped closer to you. Aemond’s smirk widened as he heard a whimper leave your lips and your eyes tightly closed as he tore away the sheer fabric they made you wear. 

He threaded closer and brushed away the hair that covered your frame, feeling you shiver beneath his touch as his hand trailed to the small of your waist, then upward to your ample tit, your nipple pebbling beneath his cold and calloused touch. He lowered his head and placed it in the nook of your neck, inhaling your scent that was not riddled with the generic perfume that they bathed the whores with. Compared to them— you were a breath of fresh air. 

You gasped and turned stiff as the prince, without warning, pushed you upon the silk-covered bed. You cowered towards the headboard, petrified at the sinister smirk on the prince’s lip, completely enjoying your fear. “I must admit… I’ve never fucked a virgin before,” He said lowly as he took off his tunic, and you looked away as you felt your cheeks heat. “I’ve always preferred my women to be ones with experience… but there is, I suppose, something appealing in being the one first to taint a maiden— perhaps that is why my brother could smell them from a mile away,” Aemond said, a bit amused as he now realized the reason for his brother’s preference of seeking out virgins to be brought to his bed. 

Aemond undid his trousers, standing bare before you as you curled into a ball at the head of the bed. Aemond relished in your cry for help as he pulled you toward the edge of the bed— thrashing upon his hold. You feel your tears slip from your eyes as the prince spreads your legs, and your cunt is fully exposed before him. You inhaled a sharp breath as you felt his breath fanning your folds, assessing you. Aemond bore witness to the truth that you truly were a virgin, your maidenhead still intact and just waiting for him to be ruined. 

He thought about how to proceed; usually, he would have a maiden on their knees or on her stomach and take her from behind— no tenderness or foreplay, simply taking what he wanted and be done with all the bother. But somehow, your cunt was calling for his lips. He never found the appeal of it, feasting on a cunt that had been used and abused by differing men, sullying himself with the taste of other men on the body of a woman. However, you were untouched, and Aemond indulged himself with an act he was rather more curious about. 

You froze as you felt the prince’s fingers trace along the slit of your cunt, the sensation new and disturbing as no one had ever touched you in such a place before. You felt his hand press your fold together, his eye on every movement you made. Aemond marveled at your cunt, never truly assessing one before— he never thought a cunt could be so… captivating. When he ran his fingers in the middle of your slit again, he chuckled darkly as he felt wetness gathering in them; despite your reluctance and defiance, your cunt was begging to be touched. Aemond’s mouth salivated at the thought. 

A gasp left your lips, and you tried to close your legs as you felt the prince’s tongue replace his finger and lick a clean stripe in the middle of your folds. Aemond could not help but moan at the taste of you, tart and sweet, and he began to wonder if this was how his depravity would begin, with a taste of a virginal whore.

You bit your tongue as you felt his lips latch on the sensitive pearl, his tongue darting out and licking you further, teasing your hole and bringing further wetness. “Stop acting so demure and coy; you enjoy this, do you not, my lady?” He menacingly said against you, refusing to let his lips stray away from the sweet nectar of your womanhood. 

You shook your head and felt your tears fall further, but any denial you do did nothing to stop the arousal dripping from your cunt. Aemond chuckled and used his tongue to tease you further, slipping it into the void of pleasure. 

You finally let out a moan, one that was unexpected, and you felt shame as you found pleasure in such actions. That spurred further determination in the prince, darting his tongue in and out of you, his fingers sinking into your plush thighs as he, too, was overwhelmed by the pleasure of feasting on your cunt. Your sensitive pearl rubbed itself against the high bridge of his nose, your blood alight, your skin glimmering with a thin sheet of sweat, and your body ready to succumb to pleasure. Aemond felt it too, that you were close to what he concluded to be the first climax of your life, your body agitated and uncertain, your moans wry and held fear. He was debating if he should let you come undone now or wait when until his cock was buried deep inside your cunt. He was straying towards the latter, but as the thought of tasting you further infiltrated his mind, the prince obliged you to reach your peak and taste your orgasm. Your uncertain moans turned loud and sure, and your hands instinctively clutched the silver locks of the prince’s hair as you came undone by his tongue. 

Aemond hummed in content, feeling his cock weeping at the taste of you. “I’ve never thought a cunt could taste so delectable,” He mused and planted his weight on his knees, staring down at your bare, flushed body and your face that was still trying to comprehend your first taste of pleasure. 

The prince did not give you much time to grasp what had happened as his rough hands found home on your waist, and his cock was aligned against your dripping entrance. Your pleasured-clad face morphed into one of pain as you felt his length penetrating your undefiled hole. It was mean and sadistic, but Aemond found pleasure in taking away your innocence. He was filled with further satisfaction as he glanced down and saw how his cock was tainted with red, your maidenhead taken by him. 

“What lord will have you now, my lady? Now that you’re the prince’s whore?” He grunted as his cock was fully sheathed inside you, the tip of it brushing a spot he knew all too well. “Are those tears of pain or pleasure?” Aemond taunted as he bent down closer to your face, his fingers brushing away the salty water that spilled from your eyes. “If it is the former, I will try not to take it as an offense. There are worst fates than being my whore, my lady— just ask the girls that served my brother,” He smirked and kissed away your tears, his lips straying further to yours.

He never found much pleasure in the act; he would only sometimes oblige the old madame in his once-favored whorehouse with the act because she seemed quite keen on it, but he never liked the way she tasted on his tongue after. But you, gods, was it too much if he would say that just one taste of you has had him on the verge of addiction?

You took in sharp breaths of pain as the prince thrust into you; he was kind enough to slow down his movements, letting you accustom yourself to his length, but by the second, Aemond was growing impatient. His moves started to move at a faster, almost violent pace, ignoring your cries of pain as he was certain they would soon turn into cries of pleasure. He had never had a cunt as tight as yours before; he had never truly paid enough attention to every fluter, every clench, every movement of the woman he was fucking, but now he could not help but focus on anything that you did underneath him. 

He savored every moan and sigh that left your lips, every line on your furrowed brows, every scratch of your nail on his back as you felt his length rutting inside you. Aemond let out a groan as the moons of need started to overwhelm him. He was close to the peak he desperately sought, but he was genteel enough to coax one out of you first; you were a noble lady; after all, it would be terribly rude of him to leave you need and unsatisfied. 

Aemond straightened his back and felt his cock twitch as he saw the site of you laid before him, your legs on his shoulder, his fingers sinking on your soft thighs, and your tits bouncing at his every thrust. You watched through hazy and pleasured-filled eyes as the prince licked his thumb and placed it flat against your nubbin, and his other hand pressed down on your lower stomach and spurred you further into pleasure. Your lips spewed out his name as you came undone, and the prince was quick to follow you. Filling your cunt with his seed, and finally, Aemond felt relief and satisfaction over him. 

The prince panted heavily as he tried to regain his thoughts; he removed his length from your cunt and felt a lazy grin come to his lips as he saw the essence of both of you spill from your hole. Through your haze, you did not expect the prince to dip down and capture your lips into a kiss once again; tongue sought entrance, and you could not find it in yourself to deny him. 

Both of you panted as your lips parted. You stared into the unique lilac eye of the Targaryen prince and were soon overcome with the implications of what had just happened. Your cheeks further turned red as you avoided his gaze once more, ashamed at how you relished and had enjoyed being defiled by him. 

Aemond smirked and collapsed atop of you, savoring the feel of your intertwined bodies for a moment. You just lay there beneath him, and somehow, that was enough for him. But as he felt your hands wrap around him and your hand went to comb through his hair, he let out a further satisfied sigh at the feeling of comfort he never thought he could find in another. 

It did not take long before Aemond had drifted into slumber. The cacophony of his release, fatigue, and you lulled him into a deep yet quick slumber. When he woke, he found you asleep beath him as well, looking so peaceful with your tear-stained cheeks and plush parted lips. Aemond delicately removed himself from you and silently walked out of the room. 

When you woke, you found a pouch filled with coins by your side and the distant sound of moans and footsteps approaching. You raised the sheet of the bed to cover your naked frame as the curtain was lifted, revealing the silver prince. You stared in confusion as he tossed the dress you wore when you were abducted on the bed. “Get dressed,” You could only stare at him in further confusion, your limbs refusing to move. 

Aemond smirked as the fear returned in your eyes. He was halfway through his return to Harrenhall, but the thought of you haunted him. He finally found the release he sought, and it would be foolish of him to let it wander free. Aemond was a selfish man. He could not oblige the others and let them have a taste of the pleasure that only you could present.  

“Get dressed. I have brought you from your master. You’re all mine now, my lady.” 

[aeralux]

"Spellbound" - Daemon Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen x Witch!Reader

Summary: A witch doesn't cower to anyone... except maybe a dragon. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Harrenhal seems to be riddled with darkness and mysteries, after all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+); rough sex; oral (f!receiving); fingering; foul language; talks of magick and its use; technically infidelity on Daemon's part; loss of virginity; mention of blood

Words: 8.3k

Notes: No description of the reader, except for dark hair. Takes place in Harrenhal when Daemon is staying there. I tried to be as accurate to Westeros lore as I could, I literally spent hours on their wiki, so I hope it shows through :)

𐔌 . ⋮ aera .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Harrenhal was a ghastly place. It had the biggest castle of all of Westeros. The castle had five dizzying towers, with equally monstrous curtain walls. The walls were incredibly thick, and its rooms were built on a scale that would be more comfortable for giants than humans—said to be haunted and eerie.

Perfect for sorceresses and sorcerers alike, the city had a coven of Witches who collectively went by the name "Wives of the Gods Eye." The name was an ode to Gods Eye, the largest lake of the Seven Kingdoms, located south of Harrenhal.

In the embrace of warm sunlight, the water of the Gods Eye shimmers in vibrant shades of blue and green, casting a magical glow. Yet, as winter blankets the land, its surface transforms into a steely grey, reminiscent of the coldest metal. Majestic black swans glide gracefully across the water. Just a short distance away, a winding lake road meanders near the storied Harrenhal, leading through a patchwork of rolling hills, sparkling streams, and golden sunlit fields. As one journeys further south, the landscape gives way to dense, shadowy forests, creating a clear contrast.

The lake, with its murky depths, bore a name of divine beings, yet here, amidst the towering pines and shivering mists, there existed no gods. Only monsters lurked in the shadows, and witches wove their secrets beneath the pale moonlight. As for you, you were a bastard of Pinkmaiden, an unwelcome child of a place that should have offered a home. At the young age of six, you were sent to Harrenhal, a castle steeped in blood and betrayal, to serve the lords and ladies of House Strong as one of the laundresses. The ancient stones watched over you with cold indifference, whispering the secrets of many who had come before.

Your raven-black hair flowed like a dark river down your back, framing your face and matching nicely with your unsettling eyes, which shimmered like a stormy sea. These features marked you as different, a reminder of your uncertain heritage. It was not long before the Lady of Harrenhal, with her porcelain skin and sharp gaze, grew wary of your presence. On the eve of your sixteenth birthday, she cast you out, her disdain cutting deeper than any blade.

Alone and bereft, you wandered the wilderness, uncertainty gnawing at your heart. But fortune smiled upon you when the coven of witches found you, their cloaks billowing like dark wings against the whispering wind. They took you in, offering a refuge far removed from the stone walls of Harrenhal. In their hidden glen, where wildflowers crowded beneath the trees, they made you feel cherished for the first time. 

Nowadays, for most, magic is a little-understood force in the world. It has been so long since magic was truly potent that most understanding now exists only in superstition and rituals of questionable validity. But with them, you understood, the doubts of others have no claim.

"You are special," they insisted, words dripping with ancient wisdom. "You possess something otherworldly." Their voices wrapped around you like a warm embrace. For the first time, you believed there was a purpose to your existence—a spark that set you apart from common folk, a thread woven from the fabric of something otherworldly.

Under their solemn guidance, you began to practice the mysterious arts. You learned to mix herbs and roots, crafting potions that glinted with promise and danger. Each incantation you whispered held power, resonating with the essence of the world around you. The witching nights became your solace, and as you delved deeper into their teachings, the women of the coven began to call you their newest daughter—their black swan. In that embrace, you found your wings, soaring above the harsh reality that had sought to bind you.

There, in the shadows of Harrenhal, you discovered your true calling and uncovered your hidden talent: Glamour magic. The few ladies of the coven from Asshai welcomed you into their fold. Asshai, a mysterious and ancient port city nestled in the far southeast of Essos, was unlike any place in Westeros, you gathered from their stories. There, the Ash River wound its way through the land, flowing into the vast expanse of the Jade Sea, where the waters sparkled under the sun like jewels.

As you sat among the flickering candles in their dimly lit chamber, they taught you ancient spells in their native tongue. Words danced on your lips like whispers in the wind, each incantation holding power and mystique. They guided you in prayer, teaching you how to bow your head before the Red God, channelling your intentions through sacred rituals. The air was thick with incense, and the flickering shadows brought to life the stories of ages past, filling your heart with a sense of wonder and purpose.

When the wise ladies of the coven, cloaked in shadows and steeped in ancient lore, deemed you ready to embrace your destiny, they presented you with a striking necklace carved from deep black obsidian. Its surface shimmered like a starless night sky, reflecting the flickering flames of the hearth where your journey began. Though the obsidian was traditionally used to forge weapons of war, the coven believed it resonated with your spirit, a perfect talisman for what lay ahead.  

As you clasped the necklace around your neck, it transformed into your glamor, an enchanting charm that bestowed upon you the power to weave illusions. With it, the magic could shift the perceptions of those around you, allowing you to appear as someone—or something—entirely different. While the shape of the necklace remained unchanged, the world could see whatever you wished it to see, bending reality to your will.  

The true strength of glamors lies in their connection to the wearer. Each illusion from the obsidian was ingrained with a piece of you, making them far more potent than mere tricks of light. As you wore the necklace, you felt it pulse gently against your skin, a current of magic entwining your fate with ancient spells. The coven’s trust in you burned bright like the embers of a dying fire.  

In the realm where shadows danced and whispers echoed, the obsidian necklace became more than just an accessory; it was an extension of your very being, a bridge between the world you knew and the numerous possibilities.

Through the fogs surrounding Harrenhal and its haunting towers, a figure emerged one day that would change the course of history. Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, found himself in the ancient fortress where magic lingered in the air, where witches snarled their secrets beneath the pale moonlight, and where even the strongest of men lost their minds to visions that tormented them.

The arrival of the Targaryen prince foreshadowed the beginning of the violent conflict known as the Dance of the Dragons, igniting the flames of war. The first target being Harrenhal. Daemon Targaryen, fierce and determined, led the charge to seize this shadowy castle for his wife, Rhaenyra. In his mind, it would become a stronghold for loyal supporters rising in the Riverlands.

Chaos erupted in the region, the air thick with tension and fear hanging heavily over the lords and common folk. Yet amidst this turmoil, you stood resolute, encouraged by the words of an elder from your coven, whose foresight promised their safety in these troubled times.

With unwavering determination, you journeyed to the godswood of Harrenhal, walking along the clear, winding stream that wandered gently through the emerald shrubberies. The ancient weirwood, with its deformed roots and an angry face carved into its bark, awaited you at the heart of the woods. Its pale leaves trembled softly in the breeze, whispering secrets of generations past.

Above you, birds flitted through the branches, their songs mingling with the rustling leaves, while bats emerged as shadows against the dusky sky, patrolling for their evening meal. A sly cat sneaked near the godswood's stone wall, its eyes glinting like lanterns in the twilight. In this serene moment, you felt a peculiar kinship with the creatures of the wood, convinced that you were not alone.

With reverence, you placed your offering between the twisted roots of the ancient tree, murmuring a quick prayer. You believed in many deities, each an important part of your life, hoping that at least one would consider your call. After all, in these dark times, hope was a precious thing.

Before your journey back, you felt a tug in your heart to pay a quick visit to Alys. The kind healer lady was one of the rare souls who did not cast disdainful glances at you during your time in the castle. Known by others as the “witch queen,” Alys saw past the uncanny aura that surrounded you. She had grown fond of you, despite the brooding darkness that seemed to dance in your eyes, and she understood that your best path was far from these stone walls. You stood out too much among the lords and ladies, a vision amidst the living.

Like a creeping shadow, you slipped through the secret passage, the cool air brushing against your skin as you navigated the hidden corridors. The echoes of your footsteps were muffled by the cold, damp stones, as you moved with practised ease to avoid the lurking guards. You knew better than to provoke their watchful eyes.

Upon entering Alys's chamber, you were greeted by a familiar sight—her collection of potions and drying herbs adorned the shelves, a simple yet charming chaos that spoke of her craft. The room held a soft scent of lavender and something earthy, an aroma that always brought you comfort. You wandered over to the table, intrigued by the array of glass bottles filled with vivid liquids.

But the serenity shattered in an instant, as a cold steel blade pressed against your throat, sending a chill cascading down your spine. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, mingling with the tension in the air. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as panic surged. Who could it be, a figure lurking in the shadows, ready to end your life? The world around you faded into silence, but your senses heightened, honed by years of uncertainty. At that moment, you wondered if your last moments would be in the castle that had been both shelter and prison.

You couldn't see the face of your attacker, but you could feel the presence looming over you, the weight of their body pressing you forward. The blade dug into your skin, drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down your neck. You swallowed hard, fighting back the fear that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Who are you?" a low and menacing voice demanded. And what are you doing here?"

The voice was unfamiliar to you, but there was a certain authority in it that sent a chill down your spine. You knew that whoever this person was, they meant business.

You tried to turn your head, to catch a glimpse of your attacker, but the blade pressed harder against your throat, making you wince in pain. "Please," you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I mean no harm."

The figure behind you let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "No harm? You sneak into the healer's chambers like a thief in the night, and you claim to mean no harm?"

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, mingling with the blood on your skin. "I'm not a thief," you said, your voice trembling. "I'm a friend of Alys. I came to see her, to...to say hello."

The blade pressed harder against your throat, making you gasp in pain. "Hello?" the voice repeated, a note of suspicion in it. "Somehow I doubt you, little witch."

You knew then that your attacker was well aware of your true nature, of the magic that coursed through your veins. You thought of the obsidian necklace around your neck, the glamor that disguised you as a simple servant girl. But you knew that even that powerful magic would be no match for the Valyrian steel pressed against your throat.

Your heart pounded against your ribs as you struggled to steady your breathing. The cold steel pressed harder against your throat, sending a jolt of pain through your body. You tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry, and your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

"I swear, it's true," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with fear. "I didn't know anyone would be here. I thought...I thought Alys would be alone."

You could feel your attacker's warm breath on the back of your neck, their presence looming over you like a dark shadow. You wanted to turn and face them, to see the face of the one who held your life in their hands, but the blade kept you still.

"Please," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. "Don't hurt me. I'm not here to cause any trouble. I just...I just wanted to see her"

Your hands shook at your sides, the obsidian necklace hidden beneath your simple servant's gown a cold weight against your skin. You knew that your glamor was useless now, that your true nature had been discovered. But you couldn't let them know about the coven, about the power that you possessed.

You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain that was sure to come. You had survived so much in your short life and had endured so much hardship and betrayal. But in that moment, faced with the cold steel of a stranger's blade, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I didn't mean any harm."

You waited for the blade to slice through your skin, for the blood to pour from the wound. But it never came. Instead, you felt the pressure of the blade lessen, the cold steel sliding away from your throat.

Slowly, you turned your head, your eyes widening as you saw the face of the one who had held your life in their hands. It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with hair the colour of spun silver and eyes as violet as an iris. He looked like he had stepped straight out of a legend, a true son of Valyria.

Daemon's violet eyes narrowed as he studied the young woman before him, his gaze sharp and piercing. He could see the fear in your eyes, the way your body trembled beneath his touch, but he also sensed something else—a flicker of something dark and dangerous lurking just beneath the surface. He knew a witch when he saw one, and you were no ordinary servant.

"A friend of Alys's, you say?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. "And yet you seem to know your way around this castle better than most. Tell me, little witch, what exactly are you doing here?"

He kept the blade pressed against your throat, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath the cold steel and could see the way your pulse fluttered. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"I've dealt with your kind before," he whispered, his voice a low rumble. "I know the tricks you play, the illusions you weave. But trust me, little one, you'll find no mercy here."

Daemon's eyes flicked down to the necklace hidden beneath your gown, a flicker of recognition sparking in their depths. He had seen such trinkets before. But this one was different—there was a power to it that even he could sense, a dark and ancient magic that thrummed through the air like a heartbeat.

"What's this?" he demanded, his fingers brushing against the hidden amulet. "Some kind of charm, is it? A trinket to hide your true face from the world?"

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "I can smell the magic on you, little witch. It clings to your skin like perfume. The same foul odour that clings to the healer."

Daemon's hand slid down from your throat to your collarbone, his fingers tracing the curve of your flesh beneath the thin fabric of your gown. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his touch, could see the way your body trembled at his proximity.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady the trembling of your hands as you met Daemon's piercing violet gaze. With a steady motion, you reached behind your neck and unclasped the necklace, letting the heavy amulet drop into your palm. There was no point in trying to hide your identity any longer. Your true face coming to light.

Daemon's lips curled into a wicked grin as you revealed the truth of your identity, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. He could see the fear in your eyes, but also the aggressiveness, the spark of something wild and untamed that called to him like a siren's song.

"I am a witch, yes," you admitted in a hushed whisper, your heart pounding so hard you feared he could hear it. "But I speak the truth, your grace. I did not know anyone would be here."

You couldn't help but notice his rugged handsomeness as you spoke, the strong lines of his jaw and the way his muscles rippled beneath the thin linen of his tunic. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting him to see the effect he was having on you.

"I'm from the coven called the Wives of the Gods Eye," you continued, voice barely above a whisper. "We practice the old ways, the magic that was once forbidden. I simply came here seeking some herbs."

You met his eyes once more, defiance mingling with the apprehension. "I meant you no harm, my lord. I swear it on my life."

"A witch of the old ways, are you?" he purred, his hand sliding up from your collarbone to cup your chin, tilting your face towards his. "How very interesting. And here I thought Alys was the only one in this godforsaken castle who dabbled in the dark arts."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "You say you seek herbs, little witch, but what say you to a bargain? Your secrets for my protection."

Daemon's hand slid down to your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat in a loose grip. He could feel your pulse fluttering beneath his touch, could see the way your body trembled at his proximity.

"I could use a witch of your talents in my service," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

You stepped back, your hand brushing against the dagger beneath your skirts. "I am not some whore," you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. "I do not offer my services to any man, least of all one who would threaten me with a blade."

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with defiance. "You would be wise to let me leave at once, your grace. I have no quarrel with you, but I will not be cowed by threats or promises of power."

Turning on your heel, you strode to the shelves, your movements quick and precise. You grabbed a bottle of dried hemlock, the bitter scent filling your nostrils. You turned back to face him, the vial clutched in your hand like a weapon.

"I a daughter of the Gods Eye. I bow to no man, not even a prince of the realm."

You lifted your chin, your dark hair falling in waves around your face. "Now, I will ask you once more. Let me pass, or face the consequences of crossing a witch."

Your hand tightened on the hemlock, the glass cold against your skin. You could feel the rage thrumming through your veins.

"Choose wisely, your grace."

He had dealt with witches before and had watched as they danced and writhed beneath his touch. In pain and pleasure.

But this one was different. This one had a fire in her eyes that couldn't be tamed, a defiance that only fuelled his dark desires.

"A daughter of the Gods Eye, are you?" he growled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger. "How very bold of you, little witch. To stand before a prince of the realm and threaten him with your petty magic."

He took a step forward, his eyes locked on the vial of hemlock clutched in your hand. "You think that trinket will save you? That your gods will protect you from the wrath of a dragon?"

Your breath hitched as Daemon closed the distance between you, his presence overwhelming your senses. The threats rolling off his tongue made your head spin, a dizzying combination of fear and thrill coursing through your veins. You had never met a man who could match the fire in your blood, his very existence seems to challenge you at every turn.

Daemon's lips curled into a cruel smile, his voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. "I have seen the faces of men and women as they begged for mercy, only to be denied. And I have drunk the blood of my enemies, their cries of agony echoing in my ears like a symphony."

"I could hurt you," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "I could crack you like this vial in my hand, leaving you a broken shell of the proud sorceress you once were."

"What do you want?" You gritted out through clenched teeth, hating the way your body reacted to his proximity. Your legs felt weak, your knees threatening to buckle as he loomed over you, his eyes burning into yours.

Daemon's lips curled into a wicked grin at the challenge in your voice, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger that made your blood run cold. He could see the way your body trembled beneath his gaze, could feel the heat of your skin even from a distance.

Stop it, you scolded yourself. He's just a man. Don't let him get under your skin.

But even as you tried to regain your composure, you could feel the power emanating from him like a physical force. It was intoxicating and dangerous, and you knew that if you weren't careful, you could easily lose yourself in the reckless temptation.

"What do I want?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Why, I want what all men want, little witch. Power. Control. To bend others to my will."

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His fingers lingered on your cheek, his touch searing your skin like a brand.

"But with you, I want something more," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to break you. To shatter that defiant spirit of yours and make you mine."

You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, could smell the musk of his scent, and for a moment, you were tempted to give in to the desire coursing through your veins.

But you were not some simpering maiden to be seduced by a pretty face and a silver tongue.

Daemon's hand slid down to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck in a loose grip.

"I could take you now," he growled, his lips brushing against your jawline. "I could pin you to the floor and claim you, make you scream my name until your voice is hoarse."

His other hand slid down your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your gown. "But where's the fun in that? No, I'll take my time with you, little witch. I'll make you beg for my touch, for the sweet release only I can give you."

Daemon's eyes locked with yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. "So what will it be, my sweet? Will you submit to me willingly, or will I have to break you first?"

"You think you can break me?" You said, my voice steady and clear. "That you can tame my soul with your pretty words and your empty promises?"

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "I have faced far worse than you, Daemon Targaryen. I have stared into the abyss and emerged unscathed. Your threats mean nothing to me."

Your hand slid up his chest, your fingers curling around the chain of the dragon necklace that hung from his neck. You could feel the heat of the metal against your skin, looking at him with a scowl on your face.

"But if you truly want to test yourself against me, my lord," you teased, your voice low and enchanting. "If you think you have what it takes to claim me as your own... by all means, try."

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light at your challenge, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He could feel the heat of your body against his, could smell the scent of your skin, sweet and intoxicating.

"You play a dangerous game, little witch," he purred, his hand tightening around your throat. "To challenge a dragon is to invite its wrath."

His other hand slid down your back, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. He could feel the heat of your body, could sense the power that coursed through your veins.

"But I like a woman with spirit," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "It makes the eventual submission all the sweeter."

Daemon's hand slid up your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast through the thin fabric of your gown. He could feel your nipple harden beneath his touch, could see the way your body responded to his ministrations.

"I will have you, little witch," he growled, his voice low and seductive. "I will claim you as my own, body and soul. And when I am done with you, you will beg for more."

You roll your eyes at Daemon's sweet words, his attempts at seduction falling flat. He thinks he can have you with just a few pretty lies? How naive.

"You tempt me, my prince," you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm no easy conquest. Besides, Alys will be back soon. I bet she won't be happy to see an old man taking advantage of her friend." You smirk cruelly, enjoying the way his eyes narrow at your words.

You try to pull away from him, but his grip on your throat tightens, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I could seriously hurt you, you know," you snarl, your eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "Don't underestimate me."

Daemon's eyes flashed with a dangerous light at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. In one swift motion, he slammed you against the wall, his body pinning you in place.

"Enough of your games, little witch," he snarled, his hand tightening around your throat. "You think you can toy with me, challenge me, and walk away unscathed?"

His free hand slid down your body, his fingers tearing at the fabric of your gown with a sharp, ripping sound. Buttons scattered across the floor as he bared your skin to his hungry gaze.

Shock and fury flash through you as Daemon rips open your dress, baring your breasts to his hungry gaze. You stare at him, completely still as a statue from utter disbelief, your breath coming in heavy gasps that make your breasts heave with each inhale.

"I will have you," he growled, his voice low and menacing. "I will claim you as my own, body and soul."

Daemon's hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast, teasing your nipple into a hardened peak. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your body trembled beneath his touch.

"I can feel your desire, little witch," he purred, his lips brushing against your ear. "Your body betrays you, even as you try to resist. I will make you mine, in every way possible."

"W-wait," you try to say, but your voice comes out breathy and weak as his fingers roll your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. Your eyes roll back and a soft moan escapes your parted lips.

What is happening? How did this get so out of control? You think to yourself, your mind spinning from the onslaught of sensation. You can't believe this is happening, that you are letting a man you barely know take such liberties with your body.

Daemon's lips curled into a wicked grin as he saw the effect his touch was having on you, your body arching into his hand like a cat in heat. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your body trembled beneath his ministrations.

His hand slid down to your thigh, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your ripped gown to caress the soft skin of your leg. He could feel the heat of your body.

"But first, I think I'll taste you," he growled, his hand sliding higher, higher until his fingers brushed against the slick, heated flesh of your core.

Even as you try to formulate a protest, your body betrays you, arching into his touch, craving more of the delicious pleasure he's igniting within you. No, I can't let this happen. I have to stop him.

But the words never leave your lips, lost in a moan as Daemon's hand slides lower, teasing you in places you have only touched in secret, in the dark of night. You are lost in a haze of sensation, your body responding to his touch despite your mind's protests.

"That's it, little witch," he purred, his fingers pinching and tugging at your nipple. "Give in to the pleasure. Let yourself feel the ecstasy only I can give you."

He could feel the wetness of your arousal, could smell the musky scent of your desire.

"You're already so wet for me," he growled, his fingers brushing against your slick folds. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind tries to deny it."

Daemon's fingers slid higher, teasing your entrance with a feather-light touch. Your walls clenched around his fingers, begging for more.

You couldn't think straight, your mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. It was wrong to crave a man you had just met, especially one who had threatened your life moments ago. But the way his fingers teased your most intimate places sent waves of pleasure through your body.

You had heard the other women of your coven speak of lovemaking, their descriptions painting it as a powerful form of magic. Perhaps you could harness this power, and use it to your advantage as Daemon desired to use you for his own pleasure.

Your hips rolled against his hand, seeking more friction. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to spill from your lips, determined to maintain some facade of control. But deep down, you knew you were in danger of losing yourself to the sensations he was eliciting.

Daemon's eyes glinted with triumph as he felt your hips roll against his hand, your body betraying your true desires. He could see the conflict in your eyes, the way you bit your lip to stifle your moans, and it only served to fuel his own dark lust.

"You can't hide from me, little witch," he growled, his fingers teasing your slick folds. "I can feel how much you want this, how much you crave my touch."

He pressed two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with a maddening rhythm.

You let out a loud, uncontrollable moan as Daemon's fingers delved deep into your untouched walls, his touch igniting a fire within you. Your juices flowed freely, coating his hand as ecstasy consumed your entire being.

Your body writhed against the cold stone wall, your hips bucking shamelessly against his skilled fingers as he finger-fucked you with reckless abandon. Waves of pleasure crashed over you with each thrust, your breasts heaving as he groped and kneaded them roughly.

"Your body is mine now," Daemon snarled, plunging his fingers deeper into your slick heat. He curled them just right, stroking that sensitive spot within you that made your vision go white. "You'll scream my name until your throat is raw. You'll beg for my cock like a bitch in heat."

His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he finger-fucked you with ruthless intensity. Your cries of pleasure echoed off the stone walls, mingling with the lewd squelching sounds of his fingers pounding into your drenched cunt.

"That's it, take it," Daemon growled, his lips latching onto a pert nipple. He sucked hard, grazing the bud with his teeth as his fingers ruthlessly stroked your g-spot. "Come for me, little witch. Let me feel you spasm on my fingers."

He could feel your walls fluttering around his digits, your body teetering on the brink of climax. With a final, brutal thrust, he sent you careening over the edge. Your scream of ecstasy filled the room as your pussy clenched down on his fingers, your release dripping down his fingers.

Daemon lapped at your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat. He continued pumping his fingers through your climax, prolonging your pleasure until you were boneless and mewling.

"Good girl," he purred, finally withdrawing his soaked fingers. He brought them to your lips, smearing your essence across them. "Clean them."

Your eyes fluttered open, glazed with post-orgasmic bliss. You hesitated only a moment before parting your lips, allowing him to push his fingers into your mouth. The musky taste of your arousal coated your tongue, and you couldn't help but moan around his digits.

He grins wickedly as you lap at his fingers provocatively, cleaning your essence from them. As his fingers are clean, he lowers himself to the floor, kneeling before you, as to worship you.

You gasp as Daemon sinks to his knees before you, his dark eyes fuming with raw desire. Your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as he settles between your trembling thighs. The heat of his breath on your most sensitive flesh sends electric shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

Dazed and off-balance, you instinctively reach out, fisting your hands in his hair for support. Your legs still feel like jelly from your earth-shattering climax moments before.

A bewildered expression crosses your face as he grins up at you, his tongue snaking out to drag along your dripping slit. You cry out, your head slamming back against the cold stone wall as ecstasy crashes over you in relentless waves.

"Mmmm, you taste divine," Daemon purrs, his hot breath fanning over your slick folds. He laps at your essence like a man starved, his tongue delving deep to drink from your most intimate well.

You can only moan brokenly, your head thrashing from side to side as he feasts upon your quivering flesh. His tongue is pure sin, licking and suckling at your clit with unholy skill.

"Good girl," he growls, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. "Ride my face. Grind that pretty cunt against my tongue."

Lost to the all-consuming pleasure, you do as he commands, rolling your hips shamelessly against his mouth. Your thighs clench around his head, trapping him in place as you fuck his face with feral ease.

His lips close around your clit, suckling the sensitive bud as he thrusts two fingers into your dripping channel. They curl just right, stroking that secret spot within you that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Daemon groans, pumping his fingers in and out of your fluttering walls.

You can only whimper in response, your body tensing as another climax builds at the base of your spine. It coils tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

Daemon's tongue delved deep, lapping at your dripping essence with a hunger that bordered on feral. He groaned against your slick flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure racing through your body.

He focused his attention on your clit, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive bud with rapid, teasing strokes. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man starved.

Your fingers tightened in his hair. The public nature of your coupling only served to heighten the forbidden thrill, the rush of being taken in a place where anyone could stumble upon you.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around his probing tongue as he brought you to the brink of climax once more.

With one final, hard suck, he sent you spiralling over the edge. Your scream of ecstasy echoed off the stone walls as your pussy clenched around his tongue, your release gushing into his eager mouth.

Daemon lapped at your spasming cunt, prolonging your pleasure as he drank down every last drop of your sweet nectar. He continued his ministrations until your body went limp, your cries turning to whimpers as the waves of pleasure subsided.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. He stood, a wicked grin on his face as he towered over your prone form.

"You taste divine, little witch," he purred, his hand sliding up your body to cup your breast. He pinched your nipple, rolling the hardened peak between his fingers. "I could feast on your cunt for hours and never grow tired."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "But I'm not nearly done with you yet..."

Lifting you up with ease, Daemon tosses you onto the creaky bed, your body bouncing on the worn mattress. You cry out in surprise, your heart pounding as you take in his towering form looming over you. His eyes burn with a hunger that gives you chills.

"Daemon, please," you plead, your voice trembling. Your core aches, still throbbing from the intense climaxes he's wrought from your untouched body. You are no experienced harlot, but an untouched maiden, and you fear you are not ready for the sheer size of him.

Daemon's large hands grip your ankles, spreading your legs wide as he settles between your thighs.

Daemon's eyes raked over your trembling form, taking in the sight of you spread out before him like a feast. His cock throbbed with need, straining against the confines of his breeches as he drank in the sight of your swollen, glistening folds.

His hands moved with urgent purpose, his fingers making quick work of the laces of his breeches. He shoved the garment down his legs, kicking it aside with a careless motion. His cock sprang free, the thick shaft jutting out proudly from a nest of dark curls.

He rubbed his cock against your slick entrance, teasing you with the promise of his hard length. You could feel it throbbing against your sensitive flesh, hot and hard and ready to claim you utterly.

"Please," you whimpered, your body trembling with need. "I... I've never... I don't know if I can take you."

A cruel smile twisted Daemon's lips as he heard your plea.

"Please be gentle," you whisper, looking up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Daemon's expression softens for a moment, a flicker of something akin to tenderness crossing his features. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip.

"Shh, little witch," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly mild. "I'll make it good for you. I promise."

With that, he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, staking his claim over you.

As he kisses you deeply, you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he begins to push forward, stretching you open around his thick girth.

A sharp gasp escapes you, breaking the kiss as he breaches your barrier. Pain and pleasure mingle together, your untouched walls struggling to accommodate his size.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his hips grinding against yours. He gives you a moment to adjust, his hands roaming your body possessively. "Such a perfect little cunt, made just for me."

He starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. The rhythm is brutal, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed as pain and pleasure crashed over you in equal measure. He stretched you wide, his thick length filling you in a way you never thought possible. Your walls stretched and clenched around him, your slick arousal easing the way as he claimed you over and over again.

"Fuck!" Daemon snarls, his eyes rolling back at the tight, wet heat of your virgin walls. 

Daemon sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with animalistic hunger. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he ruts into your willing body.

"Take it," he growls, his voice strained with pleasure, his hips snapping against yours with ruthless force.

The bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your moans and his grunts as he took you, his cock sawing in and out of your dripping cunt. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your nails raking down his back, leaving red marks and bloody imprints.

Daemon's brutal thrusts tore through you, each one sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. You screamed, your voice hoarse and ragged as he pounded into your virgin cunt. Tears streamed down your face, your nails raking down his back as you clung to him desperately.

He had taken something sacred from you, your maidenhead, and you knew your souls were now tied. The ritual of first blood, unplanned as it was, had sealed your fates together. And with a dragon as your first, the power you could now wield...

You threw your head back, your moans echoing off the stone walls as he fucked you with complete disregard. Your hips bucked to meet his thrusts, the pain giving way to a pleasure you had never known before. You were lost to the sensation, your body consumed by the feel of him inside you.

Daemon's eyes darkened at the sight of your tears, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He could feel your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock like a vice as he claimed you over and over again.

He angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with each brutal thrust. His hands roamed your body, groping and squeezing, leaving bruises in their wake.

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take my cock like the little slut you are. Fucking mine now, aren't you? Your cunt belongs to me."

You met his thrusts with your own, your hips rising to meet him as he drove into you over and over again. The bed groaned beneath you, the frame creaking threateningly as he took you with unrestrained lust.

You felt your peak nearing, your entire body on fire as Daemon pounded into you with unrestrained fury. You brought his neck to your teeth, biting down hard enough to draw a few drops of blood. The copper taste flooded your mouth, bitter and metallic as you licked the crimson liquid from your lips.

"Now you have bled for me too," you whispered ominously, your voice thick with lust and dark magic.

But before you could reach your peak, you quickly reached for your enchanted necklace, clutching it in your hand. The ancient magics within pulsed to life, amplifying the power of this ritual tenfold.

Power surged through you, your cunt squeezing tight around Daemon's cock as you came. Your eyes rolled back, your body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. Dark energy swirled around you, the air crackling with stifled energy.

"Mine," you whispered, your voice echoing with unexpected dominance. "You are mine now, Daemon Targaryen. Entwined by blood and pleasure."

Daemon's eyes flew open in surprise, his mouth falling open as he felt the surge of dark witchcraft. But it was too late - the ritual was complete.

Daemon froze, his cock buried deep inside your still-spasming cunt. He stared down at you, his eyes wide with shock and a hint of fear.

He groaned, his hips stuttering as your cunt clenched around him like a vice. The dark magic amplified every sensation, every touch, every thrust. It was overwhelming and intoxicating, and he never wanted it to end.

"Fuck," he gasped, his voice strained with anger and pleasure. "What did you do?"

But even as he asked, he knew. You had bound him to you, claimed him in a way that went beyond the physical.

He thrust into you one last time, his cock erupting deep inside you as he came.

He tried to pull out, to break the connection, but your walls clenched around him, refusing to let him go. Panic flashed across his face as he realized the implications of what you'd done.

"You... you she-devil," he snarled, his hands tightening on your hips. "Did you plan this? To trick me, to bind me to you?"

You just grinned, a vicious, seductive curve of your lips. You could feel his fear, his anger, but beneath it all was a flicker of arousal. The power you now held over him was intoxicating.

"Shh," you cooed, your fingers trailing down his chest. "Don't fight it. We are one now."

You roll your hips, your walls clenching around his softening cock. He groans, his hips bucking unconsciously into yours.

You gasped as the obsidian stone of your necklace pulsed warmly against your throat. The maleficent force surged through your veins, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Yes!" You cried out, the power exhilarating in your veins.

Your eyes, nearly black now, held his gaze as you sneered cruelly.

Daemon collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His softening cock slipped from your abused cunt, a trickle of his seed leaking out to pool on the tattered sheets beneath you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still intertwined as you both tried to process what had just happened. The energy that had swirled around you during your climax still lingered in the air, making the hairs on Daemon's arms stand on end.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his dark eyes searching your face. He looked confused as he took in your triumphant grin and the blackness of your eyes.

"What... what did you do to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

You smiled at him, your eyes gleaming with malice. "I didn't do anything to you. I had no desire to harm you, as I stated before," you answered truthfully. "Did you know that the moment when one reaches orgasm is the most intense and the most powerful experience a human can have in life? For in that moment, the soul suddenly opens to the divine realm and the breath of God is infused. I needed another to reach divinity."

You rose from the bed, slipping your ripped dress back on and throwing a cloak over yourself. "I simply used you... as you have done to many women in your life, I'm sure. Do not fret, my prince," you smirked.

Daemon stared up at you, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and a hint of grudging admiration. He pushed himself up to sit, his naked body on full display as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"Used me?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "I've never been used like this before."

He stood, his cock already starting to harden again at the sight of you, despite his anger. He took a step towards you, his hand reaching out as if to grab you, but he stopped himself.

"What are you?" he demanded, his eyes raking over your form. "What kind of witch are you?"

He snatched up his discarded breeches, roughly pulling them on, his mind reeling from the events of the past hour.

"I should kill you for this," he growled, but there was no real heat behind his words. He knew he couldn't, not now. Not with the bond between you, however unexpected it may be.

"What do you want from me now?" He asked, rage clearly visible in his eyes.

You sauntered over to Daemon, your hips swaying seductively. The rip in your dress left little to the imagination, your full breasts on display for his hungry gaze. You could see the desire warring with the anger in his eyes as you approached.

"Nothing anymore, my prince," you purred, your voice like honey. "My powers have been amplified. I owe you a debt of gratitude for that."

You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the prickle of his stubble. "Though I wouldn't mind having you take me again. I doubt I'll find another man as virile as you in all of Westeros."

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "You've awakened something in me, Daemon Targaryen. A hunger I never knew I could satisfy."

Your hand slid down his chest, your nails raking lightly over his skin. "I am yours. And I suspect you are mine as well."

You pulled back, your eyes locking with his. "What say you, my dragon?"

Daemon's breath hitched as you touched him, his body responding instantly to your proximity despite his anger. He grabbed your wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise as he glared down at you.

He pulled you closer, his other hand gripping your hip. "You want to be taken again?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll fucking ruin you."

[christophernolan]

Whatever [Alys'] powers, it would seem Daemon Targaryen was immune to them, for little is heard of this supposed sorceress whilst the prince held Harrenhal.

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON APPRECIATION WEEK Day 6 | Dynamic ↳ ALYS RIVERS & DAEMON TARGARYEN

[visenyaism]

can’t stop thinking about the meninist podcast episode with alys as a guest. aemond twirling his hair and making heart eye at her while he tells her how smart she is (for a girl/bastard/Strong). criston is wondering what kind of spell she cast on him but really he’s just a horny 20 year old guy who discovered milfs for the first time

leaked alys rivers guest ep script:

criston: my prince this woman is clearly not only baseborn and unvirtuous, but also some kind of sorceress.

alys: a witch? I’m cultivating my dark feminine energy. the targaryens literally used it to conquer westeros, it is a powerful force that lesser men like the andals feared too.

aemond: yeah criston how do you not know about dark feminine energy it’s literally sooo important

alys: they called visenya targaryen a witch too and what was she?

aemond: a conqueror.

alys: a conqueror. good boy. anyways listeners you can use the code MUCHANDMORE at your village apothecary for 30% off my prenatal vitamin supplements make sure to stock up before us burning the riverlands makes supplies difficult to come by

criston: wait what

[karalija]

“The Oath- Dawn”

Squall and Rinoa from Final Fantasy 8 by squaresoft/square enix

This is the flip side of the dark version I posted last week.

I’ve been struggling lately with my lupus and the joints of my thumbs have been super inflamed. I wish I could draw more but... it is what it is I guess. I’ll try to get some more sketches posted soon despite it!

[icomeandg0]

For ‘More than One’ maybe you could detail the relationships between each Link and their y/n or how they met!

Hi Anon!

I'd love to explain and details each Link and Y/n for ya!

I'm addressing each of them as ' Link ' instead of their LU names and that goes for the same as the Y/n's. Also oopies on Times one but it was more of Y/n lore than a detail of their relationship.

Content under cut

Time/OOT Link.

I think this was predictable but you and Link (For majority of the Links and Y/n's) started off as childhood best friends. They met each other while Y/n and Malon were near the fountain at castle town while waiting for Talon.

I think the trope suited for them would be childhood sweethearts/you fell first and he fell harder.

You two met at castle town when you were both young, When Link was going to meet with Zelda for the first time.

I like to think a lot about each of the Links and Y/n's relationships because I want them all to have very different stories to each other.

ALSO! YES YOU TWO ARE MARRIED AND HAVE...Want part two? Hit that follow button (JK, But I won't go into too much detail, yet.)

Oh before I forget, I think it's a relevant fact to mention that Y/n was adopted by Talon so Malon and Y/n are half sisters?

I like dramatic backgrounds and relationships so, You know how on ice age, the first movie where they look after that baby? Yeah so.

Y/n's mother was running away with her in her arms, she was supposidly meant to go to the Deku tree to be looked after but Y/n's mother was too tired as she drifted down the Zora's river.

Talon was delivering as per usual when he saw a woman floating down the stream so he quickly dropped everything and hurried over to the edge and grab onto her arm. Y/n's mother couldn't open her eyes. Too tired to do so, she only pushed the baby into Talons arms which he was alarmed but once he saw your h/c tufts of hair and such a peaceful resting face he couldn't help but have the need to protect you...However he knew better than to take you but when he looked back. Your mother wasn't there.

"I think daddy fell asleep again." Malon comments as the two of you sat on the edge of the fountain in the middle of town. "Definitely" You agreed, "He always does this, I would march up to the castle and find him myself if it weren't for those annoying knights." "Yeah, if only there was someone that could sneak past them all and get Talon"

Just saying that, you watch as a kid in green, around your age ran past...and tripped over a tile. The fairy flew around him 'Hurry Link! We need to get to the castle quickly!' The fairy called out, the boy looked around to make sure no one had seen that but when he looked back he was met with yours and Malons eyes glued on him. It was clear he grew flustered so he quickly stood up and ran off in the direction to the castle.

"Maybe he can!" Malon points at the boy running, "Yeah, Let's catch up to him!"

Warrior/HW Link.

Link and Y/n in this era are a fun duo in my mind, I did think about a soft reader with this Link because I thought it would be funny that a womanizer would fall in love with someone soft hearted and made him want to forget every woman he's ever been with. A quote that would've fit this would be 'I can fix him'

The mischaracterisation for Link hurts me, I don't know what I was thinking honestly.

ANYWAYS! I liked the idea of someone bossing Link around, Do I feel bad? No.

Also I think Link doesn't like sorceresses that much (Because of Cia) so I made Y/n into a witch. Yes sorceresses and Witches are practically the same.

Y/n in this era is self centered, confident, bold—Someone that acts all high and mighty really.

"Move out of my way, Rookie."

"You expect respect? Hah! You have to earn it, especially from me."

"You have to improve your sword skill before I can treat you as an equal. Trust me, You're far from achieving so."

She made him want to pull all his hair out.

Their relationship is a slowburn / Enemies to lovers.

Don't worry, they get better and maybe I'll do a full explanation on their story if anyones interested to also explain on why Warriors was so in shock when he had found her again (Hinting to my last chapter of more of us series)

Fun fact! This Y/n wore high heeled boots during the war…refused to wear any other type of shoes. Still wears them to this day.

"Link, I would like to introduce you to your new ally and commander" Impa says calmly as she led him through the hallways of the castle, "She's a witch but trust me, she's a brave and responsible type" Impa informed.

"That's good to know" Link sighs in relief, he's over dealing with witches and sorceresses but if this witch is just as Impa describes, He can handle it. Impa opens the door to the courtyard to be met with a woman around his age standing in the middle of the field, The woman was sharp and looked back to see the pair.

"Y/n, meet Link. He's the chosen hero of Hyrule." With this, Link bowed his head towards the woman who had only scoffed, "So he's a rookie with a title? I don't get what makes him so special from the rest." Link growled and took a step forward but Impa held him back, "No fighting. You'll look after him during the times on the battlefield whether it be for aiding him or healing." "Tch, I don't remember agreeing to those rules-" "Y/n." "Fine."

Impa looked over Link, "Good luck, she's a hard one to impress. She'll keep you on your toes" Link only sighed. "Lucky me."

Twilight/TP Link

I'm still deciding on a good plot for the two because as you all probably guessed, the two are the ones that can transform.

Puppy love is how I would describe them.

Started off as childhood best friends or sweethearts. To the village it was as if you two were already destined to be. You two were attached to the waist even!

I was thinking that a week from Link officially starting his journey, Y/n had gone missing so he went out and originally was going to try and find her but he got caught up in other stuff.

However, there was a dragon following him during his journey so in his eyes he had two companions being the dragon and Midna.

I Think you all know who the dragon is at this point.

Not much to describe them about, a sappy couple? Like those overly cringey lover types? lol.

I also like to think that Y/n Is more of a city gal despite being brought up in the country sideeee.

Link obviously hitting you up with his southern accent trying to make you fall to his feet but as soon as you start talking like a proper city gal he's on his knees- Scratch that, turned into Wolfie.

Post game Y/n, I like to think she started a daycare or a school for the kids because they don't learn much intelligently but are more hands on. I like to head canon that this Y/n is one of the smartest in the village BUT! She isn't the smartest Y/n.

Meeting this Link was love at first sight...At the age of 6.

One fine day in Ordon Village you were helping about with a few little task such as carrying light things from one place to another when you heard a familiar voice call out.

“Y/n! Meet the new boy in the village! Link” Ilia introduced you to the boy around your age, he smiled sheepishly and you just analysed his every detail.

“Hi Link, It’s nice to meet you” you say softly as you smile back at him, he tilts his head “Hi…Uh, You’re very pretty.” Ilia’s eyes widened as she heard the bold words of the boy behind her, you were just as equally shocked but you only giggled.

“Thank you, Link” you twirl a strand of hair with your index finger. You almost dropped what you were carrying and you were quick to wrap your hand back around the item.

“Well, I've got to drop this off. I’ll see you soon?” You say with a soft smile before turning away and walking off. Link had a stupid grin plastered on his face which earned a sigh from Ilia.

Wild/BOTW Link

The chaotic duo.

Friends to lovers (Strangers to friends to lovers in TOTK-)

Now, these two give the group the biggest headache it's unbelievable.

It's not even Link sometimes!

Y/n in this universe is just overly chaotic and Link is there for it because in some sense he honestly can't talk, on some days he's just as bad.

First encounter? Woke up half naked to one another and Y/n continued with some awkward conversation after that so Link accepted his fate that this was his idiot.

Both Link and Y/n are the life of the party, but Y/n is more extrovert while Link is more of both but it honestly depends if we're talking about LINK or WILD.

Wild is both

Link is an introvert

"So, what’s your name?” Y/n had asked as she grabbed a baked apple from the campfire nearby. Waking up next to one another naked was not how you two wanted to meet but you brushed past it and tried to become acquainted with him instead.

After a few seconds of silence she spoke up again, “Well, not much of a talker huh? I’ll go first, My names Y/n” you say, snapping the apple in half you hold one side out to him.

“If you don’t have a name, I’ll give you one. Nice to meet you, Bob” you grin, you watch his every move and soon he reaches out and grabs the other half of the apple, “Link, it’s Link.” “Well, Bobs a nice name too” that earned a faint chuckle from the boy.

Four/FS Link

Now.

Y/n in this era is a pain in the ass.

as noted in my 'More than one'

She's stubborn, feisty, sharp tongued, short tempered, strong headed but she is reasonably logical and is the smartest one out of the Y/n's.

One more thing to add about her is that she can't fight effectively, she can throw punches at people but to monsters? She rather not. She helps with strategising with Time and Warriors until she ends up in a small argument with either one when discussing plans.

Anyways! Four is our darling, calm and collected but won't hesitate to put you in your place, a perfect someone for our dear Y/n!

Four can tolerate her behaviour more than anyone else because they are childhood best friends, Of course there will be times where Four has to be stern with Y/n but that's only to make sure she doesn't get overwhelmed with anger.

Despite all her negative comments she may say about him she doesn't mean it half the time because deep down she's touched at how he still sticks by her side.

Y/n also likes to make things, like an inventor or fix things. Four makes and Y/n fixes.

Yes she knows the colours and finds them 'annoying' too.

Blue? Loves riling him up and arguing with him

Red? Likes to tease him until he's almost crying.

Green? Likes to point out every mistake he makes which always puts him off

Vio? Can relate to him and genuinely has a sorta connection with him but can end up arguing but Vio would win because his calm and collected self pisses her off because it's like her words aren't effecting him.

Relationship trope? I would say Sunshine x grump.

At the age of 5, you were in your little dress and your mother had just finished doing your hair, You were hiding behind your mother as she greets the new neighbour who was a old grandpa smith.

"Y/n? Go say hi to the nice man's grandson" Your mother encouraged. You looked up at her with a pleading look but she gave you a look that said 'You better go now or else you'll experience the pain when we get home.' You gulp and shuffle towards the little boy.

The boy grins, you could see a gap in his teeth which made you grimace, "I'm Link! Nice to meet you!" Link held his hand, You gently took his hand. "I'm Y/n"

"Awe! They're already getting along!" "R-really? They just introduced themselves-" "Would you like coffee?" "O-Oh yes that would be lovely"

Once the adults were out of sight you scowl, yanking your hand away from him "I don't want to be your friend, If anything keep 10 feet away from me" You point at him which made him blink in surprise but he grins again. "Cool! Let's play!" He completely ignored your words and grabs your hand again and drags you over to a grass patch.

"W-Wait! Gosh dang it!"

(She hasn’t acquired the ability to swear just yet.)

Sky/SS Link

Ah.

I Love this Link a lot.

Which is why I want to give him the most complicated relationship with his Y/n.

Relationship trope? She loved him too early, He loved her too late + SLOWBURNNNN

It's painful, I know.

Y/n in this era is known for her shy exterior, she was easily brushed off since it was as if she was never there. Of course she was in a trio with Link and Zelda but it felt as if she was third wheeling and she was sure Link had a crush on Zelda so Y/n never brought up the fact she had a crush on him. Had a crush on the boy for a few years now.

CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS AGAIN!

He began to develop feelings when they were on the adventure to get Zelda back, It was the first time he's seen Y/n so...out there and he can finally acknowledge her as she truly was.

But as his feelings grew, her feelings lessened

He did have a love rival, Ghirahim.

After their adventure with each other he was going to confess his feelings but when Y/n could see the fond look on his face she didn't want to know what would've happened next so she didn't allow him to finish but instead told him she was going to leave and adventure the surface again.

Link was heartbroken, he was a sappy lover type...He wanted to be yours.

He offered to come along but you refused saying you didn't need him and that he should be with Zelda again.

That's when he realises.

"Are you new here?" Link asked you curiously, the young boy, probably just turned 5? You were 4 at the time and the boy smiled "I've never seen you around before!" You only sniffled "I've been here since I was little" "W-wait, really? I'm sorry I haven't noticed you earlier."

"Why's that?" You asked softly, still haven't made eye contact with him yet. "Because we could've been friends a lot faster!" Your head snaps towards him after hearing his words. "So, Should we be friends?" He smiles. It takes a bit of encouragement, you were hesitant at first but you gave a small nod.

"Yeah, Okay..."

Wind/WW Link

Obvious disclaimer this will just reach as far as a crush as the two are underage and I find young relationships (Below 15) Silly/Stupid.

Ironic enough, You didn't meet Link but rather introduced to him after he was allowed on Tetra's ship.

You weren't friends with Link...No. You were best buddies with Tetra!

Y/n is a mermaid, I think it's fitting because there aren't any Zora in this era and it's pirates. Pirates need mermaids to cause chaos duh.

Well ironically enough, You're the princess of the sea so when you heard of Tetra and her crew you were intrigued so when you were having free time from your princess duties you somewhat came across their ship.

They caught you at first and were going to sell you but you convinced them not to and somehow you're a part of the team as a not official- official team member.

Back to you and Link, You had ventured with him at times because unlike Tetra, You could swim beside Link and aid him along the way.

"SHE SPLASHED ME!" Link cried out as he wiped the water off his face to the best of his abilities, "Oh Boho~ Get used to it" You taunted as you stick your tongue out at him.

"You're going to let her talk to me like that?!" Link looked towards Tetra who had only shrugged. "Oh grow a pair. She's harmless" Link looks back at you as you grin up at him, showing off your sharp teeth. "Harmless my ass.."

Legend/LTTP Link

Now.

Link hasn't met his Y/n in this era yet so I can't really comment on anything.

However, Y/n already knew Link before meeting him in the 'More than one' series.

Not because of the tales told about him or his adventures but she's talked to him a few times but just not in her own skin.

Sound confusing?

It is.

Anyways, This Y/n has the most tragic backstory out of them all which made her emotionally reserved but in a way she's not depressed or anything like that, she's content. (Despite everything she’s been through)

That's a story for another time.

Link doesn't particularly like his Y/n at first because of how at ease she is when the situation is serious so he thinks she's just messing around so something stupid might happen.

Relationship trope? A bit of sunshine x grump? Not really but slowburn.

Hyrule/LOZ Link

Another Link who hasn't met their Y/n

Now I think these two resemble puppy love.

His Y/n has bimbo vibes

She doesn't dress like one I swear, plus the others forbid.

She's pretty and dumb.

He's pretty (In your eyes) and dumb.

Y/n doesn't think too much about her actions nor about the consequences which led her to getting hurt many times but with Link by her side there's another healer to take care of her.

(HW Y/n was impressed and upgraded him to her apprentice...Warriors wasn't happy that Hyrule immediately on HW Y/n's good side)

Their relationship is love at first sight? Morley Y/n since she is quite open with her opinions, Know not to tell him until time is right.

Gossips with BOTWY/n the most about it which always results in Y/n to get teased.

His Y/n is overly excited, golden retriever vibes, extreme extrovert.

Link is the complete opposite.

(In my eyes at least)

Opposites attract.

Also!

If anyone's wondering the Y/n's do hold a triforce in position...or should I say Tetra-force?

I like to think that some of the Links have love rivals just to spice things up.

I didn't add a little story for Hyrule or Legend because of course, they only met their Y/n in the more than one series. Also guilty because I did not edit this.

[shattered-eagle]

Shattered Eagle: Fall of an Empire

Demo (322k WIP, 12/28/2024) | Forum | Ko-Fi

You are an advisor in a declining empire, beset by unrest, barbarians, and forces beyond your comprehension. Can you save the empire from doom?

Explore a fictional world inspired by the late Roman Empire.

Be male or female, cisgender or transgender, straight, gay, bisexual or asexual.

Serve the imperial family dutifully, or secure your own rise to power.

Choose from up to five careers, from a veteran of the legion to a shadowy spymaster.

Learn the secrets of sorcery or untangle the ancient mysteries behind the Empire.

Navigate the viper’s nest of imperial politics to find allies or paramours, including the empress herself, a cunning senator, a ruthless crime boss, a barbarian general, or a foreign prince.

SETTING SYNOPSIS

Through over five centuries of conquest, the Iudian Empire has come to rule the Inner Sea, becoming the most powerful realm in the known world.

From the western hills of Ezperia, the northern forests of Hevernica, the sophisticated cities of Attika, the eastern deserts of Midyan, and the southern rivers of Seyet, all fell before what the world calls the Iudian Sorceresses, the women who wield fire itself against their enemies. For it is indeed women who rule in Iudia, as ordained by the mother goddess Gaia herself.

Yet, the Empire is not without troubles, and her glory days seem past her. Crippling civil wars, endemic corruption and ceaseless invasion have all contributed to the woes of the once great Empire.

Threats old and new rear their heads in times such as these. A resurgent Pharia, the Empire’s old eastern rival, threatens to seize the eastern provinces. Civil unrest has escalated in the capital of the capital, the flames fanned by an increasingly bold criminal underground.

The greatest danger may come from the north, however. Beyond the cold barbarian lands comes a enemy you have only heard rumor of, the Witch King of the Ongi. It is said the warrior rides at the head of a massive host, wielding great magic that has united all the tribes of the far steppe together out of fear of his power. He has called a holy war against the Empire, claiming it as a nation of demons to be cleansed from the earth.

Will you hold the Empire steady in her time of crisis, claw your way to power, or seek to solve ancient mysteries? The fate of Iudia is in your hands.

MAJOR CHARACTERS

Empress Julia Vitallia Hevernica (48F)

A harsh woman who forced the Empire back together with blood and steel, Julia has reigned as Empress for a decade. She is a strong military leader and a pious woman, who frequently prays to the Goddess for guidance. She is cruel towards her enemies, but possesses a certain pragmatic streak, and has invested much of her authority in you so that you might govern the Empire while she wages war.

Consul Consentia Plinia Dorica (54F)

The leader of the now-sidelined Senate, the ancient legislature of grandiose aristocrats which once governed the Empire alone, Consentia is bent on advocating for what she sees as the fundamental rights of the public and restoring the power of the old Republic. She is a passionate orator and the wealthiest woman in the Empire, barring the Empress herself, and has struck a deal with the crime lord Ceto in order to gain the support of the masses for her reforms.

Tribune Ceto Vera (38F)

Coming up from the poorest slums of the capital, Ceto is the Empire’s most notorious crime lord, ruling the streets by both spreading out her ill-gotten gains to the people and making brutal examples out of those who refuse to acknowledge her authority. Lately, she has entered politics and become a staunch advocate for the rights of the common people, forming an uneasy alliance with the Consul to push back against the ever encroaching imperial autocracy.

Legate Antonius Lethungius/Amalrik Wulfhid (40M)

Born to an imperial mother who named him Antonius and a barbarian father who named him Amalrik, the Legate is a man caught between two bitterly opposed worlds. A skilled and charismatic general, he has won the steadfast loyalty of the Empire's barbarian auxiliaries with his victories on the field of battle, yet his true loyalties remain unknown. Is he a dutiful man of the Empire, or a proud, unbowed barbarian?

Prince Darius of Pharia (33M)

Darius, third son of the great King of Kings, serves in the imperial capital as the ambassador and hostage from the eastern realm of Pharia, the Empire’s oldest and most powerful rival. Over the past decade and half, however, Darius has become more than a mere captive, having established great wealth and influence in the capital with his charm and wit, and is now a major power player in his own right.

CONTENT WARNING

These themes and depictions are present in the current demo, or are planned to be present in the final product.

Depictions of violence & warfare, gore (including eye trauma), references to torture, sexual references and themes, drug & alcohol abuse, physical & emotional abuse, sexism, suicide, slavery, homophobia, & transphobia.

UPDATE LOG

04/14/2024: Chapter I (50k Words | 18k Playthrough) 05/07/2024: Chapter II (105k Words | 39k Playthrough) 06/05/2024: Chapter III (156k Words | 59k Playthrough) 07/14/2024: Chapter IV (216k Words | 73k Playthrough) 12/28/2024: Chapter V (322k Words | 93k Playthrough)

[anthonyspage]

🌲🌿👩📖🖐✨🌀🐲🌊🪷🐍

[maglors-grief]

Does anyone else find it kinda ironic how Rhaenyra is the one who gets compared to Maegor the most despite the Greens having more similarities to him?

Like the parallels are all there. Aenys and Viserys both had reputations of being weak kings because they wanted to please everyone. Visenya and the Greens both had strong opinions on who they thought was most fit to rule (Visenya didn't think Aenys was fit to rule, Greens didn't think Rhaenyra was fit to rule) despite Maegor and Aegon II definitely not being the best choices either. Upon Aenys's death and Viserys's death, Visenya and Alicent both had their sons usurp the throne from the rightful heir. It's even rumored that Visenya poisoned Aenys just like it's rumored that Alicent poisoned Viserys. Visenya and Aemond both burned up the Riverlands due to the Riverlands not siding with them during these conflicts. Maegor and Aemond both killed their nephews. Maegor's wife Tyanna was thought to be a witch/sorceress similar to Aemond's love interest Alys Rivers, both women are also noted as having black hair. And then of course Aemond literally rides Vhagar, whose first rider was Visenya, who helped her son commit these same exact treasons as the Greens.

But yet Rhaenyra is the one who gets the moniker of 'The Cruel' added to her name or is referred to as 'Maegor with teats'.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

I don’t know if you’ve answered something similar before, but I’m writing for a story including mermaids and sirens and was wondering if you had any information or advice?

Writing Notes: Mermaids & Sirens

Mermaid - a fabled marine creature with the head and upper body of a human being and the tail of a fish.

Siren - (in Greek mythology) a creature half bird and half woman who lured sailors to destruction by the sweetness of her song.

MERMAIDS

Similar divine or semidivine beings appear in ancient mythologies (e.g., the Chaldean sea god Ea, or Oannes).

In European folklore, mermaids (sometimes called sirens) and mermen were natural beings who, like fairies, had magical and prophetic powers. They loved music and often sang. Though very long-lived, they were mortal and had no souls.

Many folktales record marriages between mermaids (who might assume human form) and men. In most, the man steals the mermaid’s cap or belt, her comb or mirror. While the objects are hidden she lives with him; if she finds them she returns at once to the sea.

In some variants the marriage lasts while certain agreed-upon conditions are fulfilled, and it ends when the conditions are broken.

Though sometimes kindly, mermaids and mermen were usually dangerous to man.

Their gifts brought misfortune, and, if offended, the beings caused floods or other disasters.

To see one on a voyage was an omen of shipwreck.

They sometimes lured mortals to death by drowning, as did the Lorelei of the Rhine, or enticed young people to live with them underwater, as did the mermaid whose image is carved on a bench in the church of Zennor, Cornwall, England.

Aquatic mammals, such as the dugong and manatee, that suckle their young in human fashion above water are considered by some to underlie these legends.

SIRENS

According to Homer, there were two Sirens on an island in the western sea between Aeaea and the rocks of Scylla.

Later the number was usually increased to three, and they were located on the west coast of Italy, near Naples.

They were variously said to be the daughters of the sea god Phorcys or of the river god Achelous by one of the Muses.

In Homer’s Odyssey, Book XII, the Greek hero Odysseus, advised by the sorceress Circe, escaped the danger of their song by stopping the ears of his crew with wax so that they were deaf to the Sirens.

Odysseus himself wanted to hear their song but had himself tied to the mast so that he would not be able to steer the ship off its course.

Apollonius of Rhodes, in Argonautica, Book IV, relates that when the Argonauts sailed that way, Orpheus sang so divinely that only one of the Argonauts heard the Sirens’ song.

According to Argonautica, Butes alone was compelled by the Sirens’ voices to jump into the water, but his life was saved by the goddess Cypris, a cult name for Aphrodite.

In Hyginus’s Fabulae, no. 141, a mortal’s ability to resist them causes the Sirens to commit suicide.

Ovid (Metamorphoses, Book V) wrote that the Sirens were human companions of Persephone.

After she was carried off by Hades, they sought her everywhere and finally prayed for wings to fly across the sea. The gods granted their prayer.

In some versions Demeter turned them into birds to punish them for not guarding Persephone.

In art, the Sirens appeared first as birds with the heads of women and later as women, sometimes winged, with bird legs.

The Sirens seem to have evolved from an ancient tale of the perils of early exploration combined with an Asian image of a bird-woman. Anthropologists explain the Asian image as a soul-bird—i.e., a winged ghost that stole the living to share its fate. In that respect the Sirens had affinities with the Harpies.

Some Character Tropes

Alchemic Elementals. Merfolk and similar beings are sometimes portrayed as water elementals.

Bathtub Mermaid. Merfolk and other aquatic creatures kept in stationary tanks and other containers.

Inhumanly Beautiful Race. Merfolk, mermaids in particular, are often very beautiful beyond human standards.

Mermaid Arc Emergence. When mermaids surface, it is often with splendor.

Mermaid in a Wheelchair. Mermaids on land often use wheelchairs to get around.

Mobile Fishbowl. Merfolk who can't breathe air bring water with them to interact with land-dwellers.

Mute Mermaid. A mermaid who is unable to speak.

Selkies and Wereseals. Human-seal shapeshifters.

Sirens Are Mermaids. The Sirens of mythology portrayed as mermaids.

Unscaled Merfolk. Merfolk that are aren't scaled fish below the waist.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Choose which of these notes you'd like to incorporate in your story, and do more research if you need to add more detail. Hope these help inspire your writing!