#Ten Thousand Skies Above You

[mariacallous]

The Ocean Sciences Building at the University of Washington in Seattle is a brightly modern, four-story structure, with large glass windows reflecting the bay across the street.

On the afternoon of July 7, 2016, it was being slowly locked down.

Red lights began flashing at the entrances as students and faculty filed out under overcast skies. Eventually, just a handful of people remained inside, preparing to unleash one of the most destructive forces in the natural world: the crushing weight of about 2½ miles of ocean water.

In the building’s high-pressure testing facility, a black, pill-shaped capsule hung from a hoist on the ceiling. About 3 feet long, it was a scale model of a submersible called Cyclops 2, developed by a local startup called OceanGate. The company’s CEO, Stockton Rush, had cofounded the company in 2009 as a sort of submarine charter service, anticipating a growing need for commercial and research trips to the ocean floor. At first, Rush acquired older, steel-hulled subs for expeditions, but in 2013 OceanGate had begun designing what the company called “a revolutionary new manned submersible.” Among the sub’s innovations were its lightweight hull, which was built from carbon fiber and could accommodate more passengers than the spherical cabins traditionally used in deep-sea diving. By 2016, Rush’s dream was to take paying customers down to the most famous shipwreck of them all: the Titanic, 3,800 meters below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean.

Engineers carefully lowered the Cyclops 2 model into the testing tank nose-first, like a bomb being loaded into a silo, and then screwed on the tank’s 3,600-pound lid. Then they began pumping in water, increasing the pressure to mimic a submersible’s dive. If you’re hanging out at sea level, the weight of the atmosphere above you exerts 14.7 pounds per square inch (psi). The deeper you go, the stronger that pressure; at the Titanic’s depth, the pressure is about 6,500 psi. Soon, the pressure gauge on UW’s test tank read 1,000 psi, and it kept ticking up—2,000 psi, 5,000 psi. At about the 73-minute mark, as the pressure in the tank reached 6,500 psi, there was a sudden roar and the tank shuddered violently.

“I felt it in my body,” an OceanGate employee wrote in an email later that night. “The building rocked, and my ears rang for a long time.”

“Scared the shit out of everyone,” he added.

The model had imploded thousands of meters short of the safety margin OceanGate had designed for.

In the high-stakes, high-cost world of crewed submersibles, most engineering teams would have gone back to the drawing board, or at least ordered more models to test. Rush’s company didn’t do either of those things. Instead, within months, OceanGate began building a full-scale Cyclops 2 based on the imploded model. This submersible design, later renamed Titan, eventually made it down to the Titanic in 2021. It even returned to the site for expeditions the next two years. But nearly one year ago, on June 18, 2023, Titan dove to the infamous wreck and imploded, instantly killing all five people onboard, including Rush himself.

The disaster captivated and horrified the world. Deep-sea experts criticized OceanGate’s choices, from Titan’s carbon-fiber construction to Rush’s public disdain for industry regulations, which he believed stifled innovation. Organizations that had worked with OceanGate, including the University of Washington as well as the Boeing Company, released statements denying that they contributed to Titan.

A trove of tens of thousands of internal OceanGate emails, documents, and photographs provided exclusively to WIRED by anonymous sources sheds new light on Titan’s development, from its initial design and manufacture through its first deep-sea operations. The documents, validated by interviews with two third-party suppliers and several former OceanGate employees with intimate knowledge of Titan, reveal never-before-reported details about the design and testing of the submersible. They show that Boeing and the University of Washington were both involved in the early stages of OceanGate’s carbon-fiber sub project, although their work did not make it into the final Titan design. The trove also reveals a company culture in which employees who questioned their bosses’ high-speed approach and decisions were dismissed as overly cautious or even fired. (The former employees who spoke to WIRED have asked not to be named for fear of being sued by the families of those who died aboard the vessel.) Most of all, the documents show how Rush, blinkered by his own ambition to be the Elon Musk of the deep seas, repeatedly overstated OceanGate’s progress and, on at least one occasion, outright lied about significant problems with Titan’s hull, which has not been previously reported.

A representative for OceanGate, which ceased all operations last summer, declined to comment on WIRED’s findings.

[may--hawk]

birds of england (ineffable remix)

Birds of England, take me high / atop this burning treeline / sending signals up in smoke / I’m never coming home

Sometime, oh, in the year or so after Armageddon, when all the world had felt like eternal springtime stretching on and on into forever, the Earth reborn, reprieved, an exhale of relief, Aziraphale would start each morning with the dawn coming down across the city. Each morning the bright swell of hope in his chest that this would be the day something would change between them, the day one of them would finally reach out to the other, and say - but of course they never did, each day following the same course as the day before it and the one to come after, stuck in the same old round, their predestined orbit. Each day, Aziraphale watched the morning skies for some great portent, some sort of sign. A certain color in the sunrise, a waver of cloud, a flock of crows on the rooftop across the way. A fortuitous crossword clue, a dark old car on the street. Anything to signify this particular day as different from the others, this the day where everything changed.

And then one particular day out of a hundred similar days Crowley called him up, the quick short ring coming down the line and Aziraphale already picking up, phone cradled between his cheek and shoulder as he carefully sewed a set of signatures back together. “Park, ten minutes,” said Crowley, and Aziraphale said “thirty,” automatically, his heart already fluttering faster in his chest, not that he needed the time, not that he even wanted it, but it was always like this with him and Crowley. A negotiation, a push and pull. A careful dance, a guard against ruin.

So he met Crowley at the park in twenty-eight minutes, and had to look away from the little curl to the edge of Crowley’s mouth that showed his pleasure, and when Crowley handed him a bag of frozen peas because Aziraphale had forgotten about them again their hands had brushed, Crowley’s fingers cold from the bag, and this was no different from the day before, would be no different from the day after. The bag of peas the same brand, the same spies around the pond, Crowley dunking the same mallard he dunked every time because he didn’t like way it looked at them. Nothing different. No sort of sign telling Aziraphale to act, and now. They fed the ducks, and talked about something they’d talked about a dozen times before, and when Crowley suggested lunch, that same little hopeful rise to his shoulders Aziraphale had seen for thousands of years, Aziraphale said yes. Yes, of course. They turned to go. At a sharp cry overhead, Aziraphale looked up, stopped walking. Crowley, hands shoved in his pockets, didn’t seem to notice. A long dark snake moving away from him, slinking through the park like oozing asphalt. Aziraphale put out a hand to Crowley’s arm to stop him, not quite touching him, just the faintest brush of fingertips on cloth. Crowley turned, his mouth parted, his eyes - visible through his glasses at this angle - fixed on Aziraphale’s hand, still between them. “Look,” Aziraphale said. He pointed up. A second, two, where Crowley just kept staring at him, as if waiting - finally he seemed to see Aziraphale’s hand. He stepped back, looked up. Another sharp cry from above, from the pair of falcons in the sky, circling around and around each other, crossing and swooping some great delicate dance where, despite feints and thermals and sharp cuts, they never once touched.

“What’re falcons, again?” said Crowley. “I never paid much attention to the oracles.”

“That’s because you were too busy drinking with Claudius,” Aziraphale said, and then admitted, “I don’t remember,” the weight of thousands of years of knowledge and memory and want pressing down on him, bearing him down to Earth. The falcons soared above them, cutting across the sun, just dark outlines from this far down. “Oh, just look at them,” Aziraphale said.

“Jealous, angel?”

“A bit.”

Crowley said, “We can, you know. Go flying. If.” He swallowed heavily. “If you want to.” Crowley’s thin chest heaved, as if he’d run a race, or gone for a fly, and Aziraphale didn’t understand it, he didn’t understand why -

(And Aziraphale had thought he would know when the perfect moment came: that the very air would still around them, the birds would cease to fly, the planet stop in its turning, even the stars faltering in their twinkling, that he would know the moment when he would finally turn to Crowley and lay a hand on his arm, and say, “Crowley, I-”)

Aziraphale crumpled up the pea bag and shoved it deep in his pocket, shoved it down, out of sight, and Crowley watched him, brow furrowed, watching the movement the whole way down, but he didn’t say anything, either. “We shouldn’t,” Aziraphale said, and tried a smile. “Someone might see. We’re much larger than falcons, you know.”

“Don’t have to be,” Crowley said, but his mouth was thin and flat, and in his dark glasses all Aziraphale could see was the reflection of the ground. His own pale and wavering self, and beyond, the empty sky.

So the days slipped on away from the end of the world and the right moment still didn’t come, because Aziraphale would know it. It would be something big and momentous and fitting, and if that wasn’t it, if there was no great epiphanic moment that Aziraphale was waiting for, then it meant he was just afraid -

So Aziraphale waited, and waited and waited, and nothing ever changed, a hundred times in the shop where Crowley’s eyes sparkled at him in the dim light, his chin propped up on his hand and the look on his face, Aziraphale’d only seen it on statues, only heard it in music, only seen it in the bright new glory of a star, and their hands were so close as Aziraphale reached forward and played another move or Crowley poured him another glass of wine, and once Aziraphale had been busy talking about something or other, he didn’t even know what, was just talking to fill the space between them, which was narrowing every year, it seemed, drawing them closer and closer together, and Crowley had cut him off, said, “Aziraphale.” Just a low murmur, really, and Aziraphale gasped a little, he couldn’t help it, his heart jerking abruptly like it’d caught a thermal, and he said, “Yes?” leaning forward a bit, and Crowley leaned forward too but didn’t speak, his lips moving wordlessly, his eyes bright, fixed on Aziraphale’s, and Aziraphale said again, “Yes, Crowley?” leaning forward in his chair, about to slide off, where he would fall on his knees in front of Crowley -

Then a noise on the street: a car door slam, a pair of loud human voices, raised in laughter. Crowley frowned and sat back very slightly, and so Aziraphale too, pulling himself up as if from the edge of a great cliff, pushing his shoulders against his chair to steady himself. They stared at each other. Crowley said, “Nothing, I - nothing.”

And then Aziraphale’s in the elevator, and this is it, it’s here, the second coming, and he will stop it or ruin himself trying, he already knows. It’s what he was made for. He will not see Crowley again, he thinks, not unless it is across the battlefield, because despite all his bark and bluster Crowley is too stubborn to run away, to save himself. Aziraphale can already feel the reach of Heaven coming down from above, the holy brightness settling over him like a hood over his eyes. He can barely see Earth, its rich golden sunlight. He can only make out Crowley because he’s so dark and still. Far above him, something catches his eye: a bird in the sky, just a dark blot, singular and high. Freedom, thinks Aziraphale suddenly, dredging deep in his thousands of years of memory. Falcons mean freedom. But he can’t tell if it’s a falcon he’s seeing now. He’s not sure what he’s seeing. From down here, Aziraphale thinks, half-blinded, it could be anything. Even a sign.

Read the rest of the mixtape on AO3.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

From Sky and Telescope Magazine

The highly anticipated Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS will come into evening view for Northern Hemisphere observers starting October 11th.

Note to Editors/Producers: This release is for viewers in the U.S., Canada, and elsewhere from latitudes 25° to 50° north. This release is also accompanied by high-quality graphics; see the end of this release for the images and links to download.

For the first time in years, we're about to see an easily visible comet. Friday should bring the first evening glimpse of the comet, low in the west during twilight. The comet will appear higher in the sky and become easier to spot through the weekend. By early next week, it will be at its best for viewing.

For tens of thousands of years Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS (pronounced choo-cheen-SHAHN), also known as C/2023 A3, has been falling in toward the Sun. Astronomers discovered it in early 2023 as a tiny, distant speck in large telescopes. Having just swung around the Sun on September 27th, it's now passing its closest by Earth, coming within 44 million miles of us on October 12th. For the next days, it will be showing off during its brief time of glory in the Sun's warmth and light.

How to See the Comet

"As soon as October 11th, ambitious comet spotters may pick up the comet during twilight just above the western horizon," says Sky & Telescope Contributing Editor Bob King. "Binoculars will help you see the comet throughout its appearance."

About 40 minutes after sunset on Friday, find a spot with a good view down to the western horizon. The first thing that will catch your eye will be the bright planet Venus, the Evening Star — that's your starting point. Hold your fist out at arm's length; the comet is about 2½ fists to Venus's right. The comet will still look tiny in Friday's twilight — like a hazy star with a small tail — and will set while twilight is still in progress.

But that's just the warm-up.

The next evening, on Saturday, October 12th, Tsuchinshan-ATLAS will be a little higher and easier to find, and it will remain in view until a little later in twilight. Every evening thereafter, the comet will appear higher and more obvious. As twilight fades on Monday, October 14th, it will be two fists to the upper right of Venus (if seen from the northern U.S.) or to the right of Venus (if seen from the southern U.S.). As twilight turns to night, the comet will remain in view, its long, straight tail pointing up from the horizon.

The following few days should provide the best views as the comet gains height in our skies — despite light from the waxing gibbous Moon.

Around October 20th, a window of true darkness begins to open up between twilight and moonrise if you're far from the skyglow of city lights. But by then the comet, now high in the sky, will have started to fade and shrink. It will diminish into the distance in the following days, becoming invisible to the unaided eye later in the month even under ideal, dark-sky conditions.

Comet Origins & Fate

The comet came by its name from its discovery at both China's Purple Mountain Observatory (tsuchinshan means "purple mountain") and South Africa's Asteroid Terrestrial-impact Last Alert System (ATLAS). The two teams picked up the comet independently in early 2023, when it was still beyond Jupiter's orbit and some 50,000 times fainter than the faintest stars visible to the unaided eye.

The comet's solid nucleus, the source of the whole show, is a dirty space iceberg, probably just a few miles wide. It fell in toward the Sun from the cold and dark outer solar system, originating in a region referred to as the Oort Cloud. As the comet nears the Sun's warmth, some of the ices in its nucleus (water, frozen carbon dioxide, and other volatiles) evaporate. The ensuing haze of sunlit dust and fluorescing gas forms the comet's visible head and streaming tail, which can be many millions of miles long.

In September, Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS was visible to the unaided eye before dawn in the Southern Hemisphere, then before dawn in the northern parts of the world, brightening all the while. It swung around the Sun on September 27th and, fortunately for us, enters the Northern Hemisphere's evening sky while still glowing brightly. But as it recedes from both Earth and the Sun, it will dwindle relatively quickly — there's no hope of seeing it with the unaided eye on Halloween evening. It will probably remain visible through binoculars through early November. Its orbit is only weakly gravitationally bound to the Sun, so it will spend future ages coasting ever farther out of the solar system, probably never to return.

TOP IMAGE: The bright Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS will first become visible in the evening sky on October 11th, appearing between Antares, the brightest star in the constellation Scorpius, and Arcturus, the brightest star in Boötes. While opening night will have it competing against twilight, it will be both higher in the sky and more visible against darker skies on subsequent evenings. Sky & Telescope illustration

CENTRE IMAGE:

In this image taken from Namibia on September 30th, the comet was positioned over the eastern horizon at dawn. It was as visible to the unaided eye as in the photo. In the days to come, the comet will be visible over the western horizon in the evening. Gerald Rhemann / Michael Jaeger

LOWER IMAGE: This close-up photo of Comet Tsuchinshan-ATLAS, taken from Namibia on September 30th, shows both its ion tail (blue) blown back by the solar wind and the dust tail (white) blown back by the Sun's photons. Gerald Rhemann / Michael Jaeger

[ace-race-ace]

Legacy AU - Prologue - end of 2026

Next part

He didn’t think he would cry.

But standing there on the top step, the cheering crowd all around him and his team shaking the barriers so hard they threaten to fall, Fernando can’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. After 20 long years, he’d done it once again. He lifts the first-place trophy high above his head, as the announcement that Fernando Alonso has just secured his third Formula 1 championship rings out from the speakers. He closes his eyes as the Spanish and British national anthems play in tandem, the cheers not quieting down whatsoever. But in Fernando’s mind, everything goes silent.

He thinks back at the incredible season he’d just accomplished with Aston Martin. Ten race wins in twenty-four races, and more podiums along the way. The car, engineered to perfection for the new regulations, no one saw it coming. The racing green spots in the grandstands slowly morphed into waves as thousands of fans started to show support as the year progressed. Fernando felt so proud of his achievement, sticking with this team to create something truly incredible. Not only had he now had his forever-chased third driver’s championship, he also secured the constructor's championship a few races back. That was an achievement shared with Lance performing his best season yet. Fernando is convinced now, his future forever lies with Aston Martin.

The first splash of champagne hits his cheek, which brings him back to the moment. His eyes open and meet the grinning face of Carlos, clad in his Williams suit, shaking the bottle all over the place. Fernando quickly hops down and grabs his own bottle, spraying him back, bubbles rolling down his cheeks. The Carmen Overture plays loudly over the speakers, still unable to cover the cheers of the crowd. The back of his head is hit with another spray, as he turns to see Max in red, a color that still seems like a fever dream on the Dutchman. Fernando quickly sprays him in the face and the younger driver giggles. He shakes his head, champagne flying off his hair like a wet dog shaking off water. Finally, he turns to the crowd, spreads his arms like an eagle taking flight. He puts an arm to his stomach and bows deeply, a final display for the sport he’d dedicated his life to.

The play is over, and it’s time to leave the stage.

He clambers down the steps to get back to the garage. The Brazilian sun shines brightly above, the skies perfectly blue, a day where everything has gone right. Along the way, people scream congratulations at him, grab his shoulders, and slap his back. Everyone wants a moment with him. Still, he trudges on, politely smiling to everyone and shaking hands but never breaking his stride. Finally, back in the green garage, he’s able to shake off a few people, but more add-on. At least this time it’s purely his team, the engineers that made this all possible. Lawrence Stroll firmly grasps his shoulders from behind.

“Fernando, absolutely superb! I knew you’d do it!”

“Thank you, Lawrence, your support help me a lot! And couldn’t have done it without the team. Without Lance. We keep moving!”

“Yes, Lance is…somewhere but he’s definitely grateful for everything you’ve done for him this year. Hopefully, as Team Principal, you’ll be able to push him even further!”

“Oh, I will!”

Lawrence gives him another slap on the back before shooing the people crowding Fernando away. The Spaniard still feels like he’s floating, like his feet are hovering above ground, and has to pinch himself to convince himself he isn’t dreaming. His muscle memory kicks in and pulls him toward his driver’s room.

Stepping in, Fernando takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes and clutching his arms to his chest. Muffled voices echo in the background but Fernando finally feels he can truly cool down. What he doesn’t expect as he opens his eyes, is someone else being in the room with him.

Lance. Sitting on the couch, looking up at him with his doleful brown eyes.

Fernando freezes for a moment, crossing the gaze of his teammate before slowly stepping closer. Lance is on his feet by the time he reaches him. Fernando doesn’t break his stare, now having to look up at him.

Lance’s face breaks into a smile. Fernando mirrors it and engulfs the younger driver into a hug. Lance immediately reciprocates it, burying his face into his shoulder and squeezing him tight.

“You did it Fernando! You actually did it!”

Fernando laughs and grabs the back of Lance’s neck to give it a squeeze. He feels Lance’s smile through his shirt. They remain like that for a while, slowly starting to sway from side to side. Until Fernando felt the familiar brush of lips against the pulse point on his neck.

“Lance…” he says warningly.

The younger driver’s behavior came to no surprise. These past few years as teammates, Lance had become increasingly bold in his advances on the Spaniard. It started with innocent flirting, the same most drivers on the grid have with each other. A few suggestive jokes or winks to make each other giggle. Fernando found it especially easy to get along with the younger driver. It was the first time Fernando didn’t feel threatened by his teammate so he let himself loosen up and actually get to know him. Turns out Lance is one of the kindest people he’s ever met, humble, soft spoken and always willing to help or learn. Fernando felt compelled to reflect the same kindness towards him, often listening to Lance’s disappointments after a bad race and offering advice where he could. And when things went well, he’d laugh and egg him on by returning some hugs or squeezes in appreciation.

But Lance’s flirtations soon became more physical. Biting his lip at Fernando when he came back sweaty from a race. Sitting as close as possible during meetings, thighs touching. Pressing closer anytime Fernando casually held his side. All still very subtle, but hard to ignore at the same time. Fernando found it sweet at first, who doesn’t like an attractive person paying attention to them? Not that Fernando let himself think too much about Lance’s ‘attractiveness’, the boy is simply conventionally handsome. Until Lance’s behavior became undeniably inappropriate for a teammate working relationship. After Fernando’s first win in over ten years, Lance had shown up and begged to congratulate him by getting on his knees. When Fernando shook his head and told him he shouldn’t Lance had contented himself with kissing his older teammate’s neck. The Spaniard should have stopped him but it was too hard to push back something that felt so good.

Lance only kept going further after that. Wrapping around Fernando from behind, pressing into him and whispering sweet things into his ear every chance he could get. Showing up in the middle of the night, claiming insomnia just to end up cuddling up into bed with him. Fernando wasn’t innocent in the matter himself. It became increasingly harder to keep his hands off of his teammate anytime he was within reach. He slipped up often, sliding his hand in Lance’s back pocket a few times, squeezing his waist a little too long. Once he’d even inadvertently pulled Lance into his lap during a meeting, tugging him close to his chest. Fernando got many weird looks from the team and he brushed it off as an inside joke between him and Lance. Good thing Lawrence wasn’t there because anyone who knows Lance well couldn’t have missed the look in his eye as he settled against the older man.

All to say, they’d been teetering on much more than just teammates for a while. Yet Fernando has stood his ground. There was no way he could get involved with his teammate, especially when said teammate was 17 years younger than him and the boss’s son on top of that. Lance has tried time and time again to break his resolve but to no avail. So Lance continues to relish the few behaviors Fernando allows.

But soon, this would have to change.

“Lance…You know this can’t continue. I’m going to be your boss, we…we won’t be able to do this. Not anymore.”

Lance responds by pulling Fernando closer and pressing his nose into his pulse point.

“Exactly, so let's enjoy it for now. I think you should fuck me, take me to bed, and ruin me, as a teammate parting gift.”

He says it in his usual nonchalant tone as if he hadn’t just asked Fernando to cross the line they’d never crossed before. Fernando has a hard time keeping himself in control. The urge to bend the boy over the massage table in the corner of the room is nearly unbearable. He can’t help but slide his hands to Lance’s waist squeezing it once before settling on the small of his back.

“You don’t know how bad I want to Lancito but we can’t. We need to stop before this gets out of hand. Imagine if we get caught. Big scandal, could bring the whole team down. Is too big of risk.”

Lance sighs and pulls away from his embrace. He crosses his arms over his chest and chews at his bottom lip. The room suddenly feels too small, suffocating with things remaining unresolved. Fernando gets a ping on his phone telling him he needs to come out to the media pen. He sighs and walks towards the younger man. His hand comes to rest against Lance’s cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles. The Canadian meets his eye but drops his gaze back to the ground soon after. Fernando gets on his tip-toes and presses a small peck to Lance's cheek.

“I will see you at the party tonight. Lots to celebrate.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DRIVEN SPORTS DECEMBER 2026

Fernando Alonso, now a three times formula 1 world champion as of this year. His previous championship win was back in 2006, exactly 20 years ago. After such a heroic win, Alonso has shocked fans by announcing his retirement from F1 racing - but not the sport as a whole. He is now lined up to be the Aston Martin Formula 1 Team Principal for next year and beyond! I sat down with Alonso to discuss this past season and his future ambitions with the team.

Fernando, thank you for taking time to discuss this absolutely crazy announcement - on many different fronts!

Of course. Is all very exciting for me!

And for the fans! You’ve delivered such a strong season, with 10 race wins and many podiums. How did it feel to get back on that top step?

Absolutely incredible. I had not felt it for a while, so getting the experience again…Is very special. I need to make more space in my trophy cabinet now! But is not bad problem to have.

Last year the team barely broke the top 3, with Ferrari and McLaren taking a huge lead. This year on the other hand, no one could touch you! What changed?

The new regulations. We put extra focus on building the new car, working with Honda and the best engineers we could find. We knew this year was our chance to make real change and I’m glad all the work paid off. The upgrade packages also worked great, improving the car over the year while other teams on the grid had a much harder time. There is of course also a bit of luck, and picking opportunities but overall, the team’s hard work made the difference.

The other teams are now on the back foot, do you think they will catch up next season or is this the beginning of Aston Martin dominance?

Haha, is too early to tell. Now we focus on getting the car and the drivers ready to get on track. We see what we can do.

You mention the drivers, you will no longer be included in that title, even though you’ve just won a championship! Why is that?

I have been driving in Formula 1 for over 20 years. I’ve accomplished everything I wanted, is time for me to move on to something different. I’m extremely grateful of the new opportunity at Aston Martin. I’ll still be close to the action in a different way and gain new skills. Being Team Principal is a huge responsibility and I’m honored by the trust the team is placing on me.

Team Principal, congratulations! I’ve got to ask, are you more of a celebrity hire or are you fully taking on the responsibilities?

Haha, you are bold! But no, I am going to do my duties to the fullest. I’ll be trackside every race and work with the team behind the scenes. No slacking for me!

Aston Martin has recently announced their driver line up of Lance Stroll and Felipe Drugovich. How do you think the pair will fair?

They are both very strong drivers. Lance has a lot of experience and ambition. Felipe is excited for his rookie year, since I've been hogging his seat for so long. I think either of them could get a championship in the next few years. They’ve known each other for years and get along well so I anticipate they will work well together.

And what about Jessica Hawkins, your reserve driver?

She is great as well. Very helpful in the simulator work and if she gets the opportunity to show her skill on track, she will impress many. Believe me!

Why hasn’t she gotten that opportunity yet? There could be another seat open next to Drugovich, yet Lance has been there a while, some may say too long in comparison to his results.

Obviously it is no secret why Lance is returning as a driver, but I will not discredit his talent. He’s a strong driver when the needs arise, pushing hard for better results. He’s gotten on that top step twice this year and I couldn’t have reached the championship without his help. Most of all, he’s a nice boy, always kind and willing to work together. Being his teammate was an absolute pleasure, and I'm happy to keep working with him for years to come. I will be working with him personally to push him to his ultimate potential, because I truly see a champion in him.

Sounds like you’re quite fond of him.

Quite a bit, yes.

What about the rest of the grid for next season? Lots of new talent has come in recently! The Andretti team had a promising first season and Red Bull will be back after a two year ban. Do you feel any threats, from drivers or teams?

Now that everyone has a better understanding of the new regulations, I definitely think it will be a tighter competition. But I am confident in our team! We’ve done it once already, now we just need to make sure it happens again, by any means possible. Of course the big names will cause some good racing, Verstappen and Leclerc at Ferrari, Piastri and Norris at McLaren…All strong line-ups, but they are no reason to get discouraged, only to push even harder.

Alright, to wrap things up, what is your favorite part about your promotion at Aston Martin so far? Any special surprises?

Getting to work with such a dedicated team. We all are looking towards the same goal, remaining on that top step and getting plenty of shiny silverware. As for surprises, I think many will be surprised by the work of the team and our drivers. We keep pushing.

———————————————————————————

Alright, sorry for any confusion but this is now the official beginning of the Team principal AU! I’ll try to update quick now that I’ve got my bases covered!

I adore feedback so tell me what we think!

(Will eventually cross post to AO3)

[scotianostra]

On August 28th 1839 The Eglinton Tournament began.

By the 1830s, tales of romance and chivalry inspired an interest in the costume and events of the Middle Ages.

At the famous Eglinton Tournament, held at Eglinton Castle, Ayreshire, Scotland, the Earl and his guests dressed themselves in medieval-style costumes and took part in processions and competitions.

The tournament was open to the public and attracted tens of thousands of spectators. Participants had spent the previous year in training, both in private and in public, building up huge public interest in the event. A variety of commemorative souvenirs was produced, such as jugs or textiles. The painting of Lord Eglinton, dressed in gold armour showed his hopes and dreams for the occasion.

The form that the tournament took was a 16th-century ‘Triumph’ whereby knights on horseback attempted to strike each other’s shields by tilting with lances. It was agreed that a pitched battle, or mêlée, would be too dangerous, although a small mêlée was held at the end of the third day between two teams of four knights. Lord Eglinton had been warned by the Sheriff of Ayr that if anyone was killed during the tournament the guilty party would be charged with manslaughter, or even murder.

In the end the tournament that the Earl imagined was somewhat different, as a Glasgow newspaper reported….

“Two knights ran towards each other, at a very moderate pace indeed and attempted to poke each other with their poles, mistakenly called lances, in a manner so utterly harmless that a child need scarcely have dreaded the encounter. Not a single knight was unseated, or even made to reel in the saddle.”

According to one source around 100,000 people from all over the world attended the event, but on the first day of the tournament, the clouds were much darker than the picture shows . By coincidence the new rail line from Ayr to nearby Irvine was opened only 3 days before the Tournament opened on 28 August, 1839. On the first day, the new rail service carried almost 3000 passengers to Irvine to view the festivities. Steamships brought visitors from Liverpool and Glasgow.

At noon on the first day the skies opened and the spectators in their fine costumes found themselves soaked to the skin and not even able to see very much. A bit like the weather we have had lately in Scotland!

The reporter continues,

"I once caught a glimpse of a horse’s tail, and once a hurried view of the end of a lance. Another time I just distinguished, for an instant, the nose of a combatant, and once afterwards obtained a full view of the Marquess of Waterford, who seemed really to enjoy the fun, and to like it all the better for the mud below and the moisture above… “

The following two days the weather improved and the tournament was a resounding success and brought a renewed interest to all things Scottish, perhaps in the same way Braveheart did 25 years ago. The newspapers covered stories about it for months afterwards.

Those who took part later had portraits painted in their armour and medieval costumes, some with their Lance’s medals and trophies they won that day. Although the Earl lost a reputed £40,000 it did not dampen his enthusiasm and he went on to organise a large-scale commemoration of Robert Burns.

Such was his fame after the tournament Karl Marx described him as ‘the Don Quixote who wanted to resuscitate the tournaments of chivalry’

The Eglinton Estate is now a country park, very little of the once grand castle remains, you can see in the background of the second pic exists, the Tournament Bridge however was recently restored to it’s former glory and looks fantastic.

Pics are of the bridge and some artwork documenting the tournament, you can see more of these at the link here https://www.mediastorehouse.com/search.html...

[zhuhongs]

蓮花空行身染愛（Liân-hue Khong-hīng sin jiám ài）

Lotus Dakini Dyed in Love by Collage

又閣是彼个 無代無誌想著的形影 iū-koh sī hit ê, bô-tài-bô-tsì siūnn tio̍h ê hîng-iánn There it is again, that figure I remembered out of the blue 親像一陣風 吹落來 是春風少年 tshin-tshiūnn tsi̍t tsūn-hong, tshue loh lâi, sī tshun hong siáu-liân It came over me like a passing breeze - that unfettered youth 坐嘛是思念 坐袂牢 真無聊的思念 tsē mà-sī su-liām, tsē bē tiâu, tsin bô-liâu ê su-liām I sit here and reminisce, but it doesn’t linger - such a restless thought 倒咧眠床頂 予月娘 笑規个暗暝 tó leh bîn-tshn̂g tíng, hōo gue̍h-niû tshiò kui-ê àm-mî Laying on the bed, making the moon laugh until late into the night

我行過你的世界 guá kiânn-kuè lí ê sè-kài I’ve moved past your world 啥物我攏無愛 siánn-mih guá lóng bô ài And I don’t want anything 只想欲佇你心內（寫一條歌） tsí siūnn beh tī lí sim-lāi（siá tsi̍t tiâu kua） only your heart (to write a song)

車行過 *𪜶的期待 tshia kiânn-kuè in ê kî-thāi Cars passed by your expectations 這站閣無落來 tsit tsām koh bô loh-lâi And didn’t stop at this station 無想欲對誰交代（心內驚驚） bô siūnn beh tuì siáng kau-tài（sim-lāi kiann-kiann） Without offering an explanation (hearts unsteady)

想起我彼暗小可仔歹勢 siūnn-khí guá hit-àm sió-khuá-á pháinn-sè I realize I feel sorry about that night 予你揣著我 hōo lí tshuē-tio̍h guá I made you realize that I 規身軀藏無好勢的委屈 kui-sing-khu tshàng bô hó-sè ê uí-khut Can’t properly hide my misgivings

風 中的飛龍咧吼 hong-tiong ê pue-liông leh háu The dragon amidst the clouds is roaring 聲 聲予天搖地動 siann-siann hōo thinn-iô tē-tāng Causing the earth to shake 愛你的傳說寫佇頂懸 ài lí ê thuân-suat siá tī tíng-kuân The legend of our love is written in the sky 感情紲來愈飛愈懸 kám-tsîng sua-lâi lú-pue lú-kuân Feelings also grow the higher it flies

花 開佇你蹛的樓 hue khui-tī lí tuà ê lâu Flowers bloom at your doorstep 想 當時欲綴你��� siūnn tong-sî beh tuè lí tsáu Almost as if they intend to go with you 多���的雨崁著目睭 to-tsîng ê hōo kham tio̍h ba̍k-tsiu The passionate rain conceals your eyes 你的代誌講袂清楚 lí ê tài tsì kóng bē tshing-tshó Your affairs are can’t be told clearly*

看你行過千山萬水 khuànn lí kiânn-kuè tshian-san-bān-suí Watching you traverse a thousand mountains and ten thousand waters 手內薔薇微微仔芳 tshiú-lāi tshiông-bî bî-bî-á phang The rose at hand lightly fragrant 行踏輕鬆跤步的我 (恬恬佇遮攏無出聲) kiânn ta̍h khin-sang kha-pōo ê guá (tiām tiām tī tsia lóng bô tshut-siann) And I light on my feet (am here quietly, without a sound)

日子過一工閣一工 ji̍t-tsí kuè tsi̍t-kang koh tsi̍t-kang Days pass, one after another 你的一切攏猶未放 lí ê it tshè lóng iá-buē pàng And you still have not let it go 越頭欲揣過去的我 ua̍t thâu beh tshuē kuè-khì ê guá A turn of the head, and you want to find the departed me 煞來袂記家己的名 suah-lâi bē kì ka-kī ê miâ How could you have forgotten your own name

是我欲陪你流浪 sī guá beh puê lí liû-lōng It is I who wants to lead you astray 長路終點滿天花雨 tn̂g-lōo tsiong-tiám muá-thinn hue-ú At the end of the long road are clear skies, flowers, and rain 雺霧內底戇神 bông-bū lāi-té gōng-sîn Dazed in the middle of the fog 千年流轉你的世界 tshian-nî liû-tsuán lí ê sè-kài Your world is a cycle of death and rebirth* 自作多情的人 tsū-tsok-to-tsîng ê lâng Before a self indulgent person 眼前地獄家己揀的 gán-tsiân tē-ga̍k ka-kī kíng ê Is a hell of their own choosing 天上 地下 人間 thian-siōng, tē-hā, jîn-kan Above heaven, below hell -- the mortal world 四方妖孽請恁退下 sù-hong iau-gia̍t tshiánn lín thè-hā Quartet of demons*, please back down

這繁華世間 tse huân-hua sè-kan This prosperous world 眾生有情人 tsiòng-sing ū-tsîng-lâng Where everyone has loved ones 有情生煩惱（甘願受罪） ū-tsîng senn huân-ló（kam-guān siū-tsuē） As such are troubled (yet willing to suffer)

心狂閣火著 sim-kông koh hué-to̍h They set their hearts ablaze 明知會艱苦 bîng tsai ē kan-khóo Knowing it will one day bring unhappiness 千錯萬錯 （攏佮你無關） tshian-tshò-bān-tshò（lóng ka̍h lí bô-kuan） Tens of millions of faults  (all have nothing to do with you)

* - the original phrasing is in reference to concepts/phrasing that exist in reference to religion that I have only found information on in very formal Chinese, however I am not skilled enough to translate properly, as such the translation is lacking.

[flickerintwilights]

zelink week 2023 | free day

—stories of flying

rated G / set before botw’s calamity / 2268 words

@zelinkcommunity

(excerpt) He’s not a child anymore. Now he’s — now, he’s here, and he’s seventeen years old. He has a sword, the sword, strapped to his back, in its sheath, and even the sheath is glimmering and catching the light from the sky. Moon and stars; the barrier is still up. He’s lying in the grass, hair unbound, snagging a little on the hilt of his blade.

There’s a girl next to him, Zelda. She’s pointing out constellations.

The sky is not completely inaccessible, even through the cloud barrier. Clouds are just water, after all, and even water wound with magic from a race of gods (or something like it) is permeable, eventually. Getting up there is the challenge, and the reason that very few from the surface ever lay eyes on the sky islands after their raising, or on the other creatures that weave invisible trails of magic through the clouds. But it can be done.

Remember: very, very rarely. But it is possible.

It was the ancient Sheikah, of course. They were the architects of the Divine Beasts; Vah Medoh soared the skies below, if not above, and other creations of theirs could go higher. They set their sights for the heavens, before they fell.

So it was the Sheikah, a mage and a researcher, along with a Rito scientist for the added benefit of having wings, who broke the clouds for the first time in thousands of years. They found and recorded the existence of a before unseen dragon with brilliant white scales, spikes and antler-like horns of luminous turquoise-blue, and a glowing golden mane, leaving a long winding weave of magic from the crown of its head. They wanted to investigate, especially given the lack of visible elemental hazards such as with the other three dragons. They also wanted to investigate the floating islands growing in gold, and the tall building rising up and out from the greatest one.

They never got the chance. For either. They fell, because the Sheikah have a habit of falling, and they never went up again, because the Sheikah have a habit of doing that too.

Specifically, it was because both Sheikah died on the expedition. The Rito survived alone by the usefulness of wings to tell the tale to the gossips and the villagers, who passed it down as folktales. Longer-lived versions of the old ones, from back when the white-scaled dragon first ascended to the clouds. Soon after, the First Great Calamity came, and no one tried to reach the sky again. Let it not be said that Mineru of the Zonai was not brilliant, for raising the lands and the secrets of her people to the heavens.

Thousands of years will pass. Ten, to be somewhat exact. It really is a long time. The story of the land in the sky, at least, survives in children’s stories. Who doesn’t want to believe that? Not adults, of course, they’re too realistic. But children can. A little girl named Shamae, at a stable at the foot of the woods, will, for example. Most of the tale about the light dragon will be lost; many already have a hard enough time believing in the three dragons that do descend to the earth, winding just around civilization.

Most.

There was a child who loved dragons, once. Not anymore, for the first thing; he still loves them. Dragons have a way of coming back to you. But once he was a child, and once he lived in a small village where everyone knew everyone and so everyone knew him, and eventually a traveling merchant came in and stories moved as stories do and somehow someone managed to tell him that there might be a light dragon, a fourth one, not just the elemental three that you say you’ve seen because your papa travels all over. This is a very old story and it’s probably not true — well, it might not be true, so don’t go around saying it is, but maybe you’d like to know.

The child did, in fact, like to know. He looked for the light dragon everywhere, after hearing that story. He didn’t find it because he can’t fly (yet), but he liked the story. (Likes. He’s still alive. Don’t worry for him; he loves dragons.) While he was looking for it and not finding it, he was also looking for the other three dragons and finding them, and he was also defeating adults with a sword, and he was also traveling with his papa who was a royal guard who was eventually stationed at the Military Training Camp at the foot of the woods.

And his name is Link. He drew the Master Sword from the woods.

He’s not a child anymore. Now he’s — now, he’s here, and he’s seventeen years old. He has a sword, the sword, strapped to his back, in its sheath, and even the sheath is glimmering and catching the light from the sky. Moon and stars; the barrier is still up. He’s lying in the grass, hair unbound, snagging a little on the hilt of his blade.

There’s a girl next to him, Zelda. She’s pointing out constellations.

“They’re apparently significant to the ancient Sheikah,” she’s explaining, “do you remember the shrines — they have depictions of constellations all over them. Purah only ran into constellations a few times during her studies, but she and I have been using an old telescope lately, going into old Sheikah texts to find their signs. We’re currently in the process of deciphering them as much as we can. We might even be able to find meaning in the constellations shown on the shrines!”

Link nods attentively, eyes on the sky. A star is glimmering brightly, a little to the north; they’re by Lake Hylia now, for reference. The lake is sloshing gently at the green slopes, and the bridge is quiet. The sky is clear. He points up, to the point of light in the sky, in question. It feels vaguely familiar, he might have seen it when he was stargazing as a child.

Zelda follows his hand, looking up. “That one? Hm… oh, that’s the Central star. I think… it’s supposed to be part of our constellation for your sword, but for the ancient Sheikah it was part of a constellation they depicted on the old Sheikah towers — like the one on the Great Plateau, that we haven’t been able to activate. It’s the only one we’ve found, so we aren’t certain that it’s a repeated motif, but we haven’t seen it on the shrines either, so… we’re making guesses.”

She wiggles her fingers vaguely in illustration, a carefree motion of the kind she wants to make more often, and she can’t help her smile. It’s contagious, anyway, now Link is smiling too.

Zelda traces out the shape of a teardrop, connecting stars with her finger. “It was the sign for wisdom. Given the towers, and the shrines, there might be a corresponding sign for courage — that is the attribute associated with the hero — and maybe even one for power, though I’m… not sure where we might find that.”

Link hums in interest. “Was that a teardrop for wisdom?” he signs.

“Yes, apparently.” He makes a face, and Zelda shrugs. “It probably is for the same reason that the Sheikah eye has a teardrop, but I don’t know why. Maybe wisdom is inherently associated with sadness.”

It’s a depressing thought. More so, when you consider that Zelda is Zelda, with the blood of the goddess, and the historic representation of Wisdom.

“It shouldn’t be,” Link signs in response, after considering, and he shifts closer to her and presses his shoulder against hers. His right shoulder, because he’s left the Master Sword on the grass a few feet away. She leans into the touch, because he’s warm and a bit of a wind is picking up, and because it’s nice. She hasn’t done it often, before.

The wind is more than a bit, though. It begins to gust and then to rise, whipping their hair into their faces. Zelda laughs, bright and open, because Link looks funny with his hair flying all over his face instead of pulled back in its ponytail like it usually is. But then she quiets, and she turns to the lake. The water is picking up along with the wind.

Look.

The wind swirls up, and the water sprays from the shore by the sudden motion of the waves, a few droplets landing on their legs and clothes. Light ripples from the center of the lake, just outside the bridge’s shadow, yellow-green and electric. From the glow, a horn breaks the surface of the water. Maybe breaks isn’t the best word; it’s too clean, too graceful, as if the water had parted in that singular form to allow passing.

The light flows down the horn in rivulets of water, or the shape of it, because it doesn’t seem to be wet. Following the tip of the horn, as it bends and winds down to its source, is a nose, electric green scales, two brilliant eyes bathed in green and gazing blue-purple. Then the mane, crackling with energy, tinged yellow-green, flowing over the ears and down to the body’s glinting scales.

A dragon. Farosh. Spirit of the forest, of courage, of the spring.

They’ve both seen them before; they emerge from the lake regularly, on their time, and they’ve both been to the lake. It’s a landmark of the kingdom, named for the goddess. Of course they have.

The thing about dragons, though, is that every time you see them, you can’t help but look. They’re beautiful. Timeless.

They sit on the slope and watch Farosh, in silence, as they ascend. Sparks of electricity forming and balling and unwinding around them. A miniature thunderstorm, alive with energy.

“I used to love dragons when I was a kid,” Link signs, shoulders back, eyes still drawn to Farosh as they descend past the bridge, looping back into the water. The same graceful, weightless dive, just down instead of up. “I mean, I’d see them all the time, and they were also in all these books, and they sounded so cool.”

“What kind of books did you read?” Zelda asks, curiously. “The books I had about dragons were… mainly about them as servants of the goddess.” See, she likes dragons too. Does that sound redundant? It’s hard not to, first of all. But more importantly, she’s always been able to see them — as they circle, circle, circle, never faltering from their same steady unknowable paths through valleys and over mountains. A contradiction, but the good kind, where she thinks she understands even if maybe she really doesn’t, and that’s enough for her.

Still, she wouldn’t describe their appearances in the stories she was told as cool. So she’s curious.

“Uh.” Link scratches the back of his head, a little sheepish. Half of Farosh’s long body has gone through the water. “Picture books? Or adventure. They usually showed up as guiding spirits, or they gave the hero powers or blessings. I think I read one once where the hero flew around on one. But—” He hasn’t read these books in years, not since he pulled the sword and became a knight and had a destiny placed on his back. It’s both nostalgic, a nice memory to come back to, and it’s books he read when he was ten. An accomplished swordsman already, but still ten. He’s seventeen now, of course he’s embarrassed.

Zelda laughs, genuinely, as he signs. She wants to read those books, a little.

“I heard a lot more stories, though. Travelers would talk about them on the road. Like, this story that the Dueling Peaks were split by a dragon, have you heard that? And that dragons live above the clouds.”

“I believe I’ve heard the second one,” Zelda replies thoughtfully. “There are plenty of old legends about a city in the sky, all varying. Dragons get mentioned in at least one version.”

Link nods. “There’s also a story about a… light dragon? White dragon?” He shrugs. “The words get jumbled in translation. It’s meant to be a fourth dragon, other than the three elemental ones. Up in the sky somewhere, so we never see it. It seems pretty obscure, though. If it did exist, it’s probably gone.”

The last of Farosh’s spikes vanishes past the surface of the water, and the lake is still again.

Zelda gazes up to the sky. It’s still clear, but the stars are beginning to fade back into invisibility. The sun is rising in the east. “Stories always come from somewhere. It’s not likely, but… still, I’m glad you told me. It’s interesting to think about, isn’t it? If there could be countless other dragons up there, that we just can’t see?”

“Wonder why it’s only those three that come down, then,” Link signs, propping his chin up on his spare elbow and gazing out over the lake. Farosh is gone now, not even a crackle of electricity left, but the lake is still beautiful in their wake. The first glimmers of sunlight swim across the surface of the water. “Maybe they like us.”

Zelda laughs, more than a little hopelessly. She’s used to divine figures not liking her. “If only.”

Link nudges her lightly. “We saw them. They were there, for us. Maybe the light dragon even is too.“ He cranes his head to gaze up at the sky, tilting his head like he can see through the clouds, then drops back down again and looks at her. “It was nice.”

It’s such an unassuming statement — it was nice, that could be them walking over an uninteresting grassy field or sleeping or something else entirely mundane. But it looks so sincere. And it was nice. It was. The stars and the crisp air and the close hum of energy over the water and Link. It’s the simplest, the easiest, way to describe it. She understands perfectly.

“Yes,” she says, nodding, “yes, it was.”

[dogueteeth-fhr]

WIP Not-Wednesday

Thanks @silvery-bluish for the tag!

I'll forward this to @wonda-fhr ! As always, not pressure to participate ;) <3

Hmmm let's see what I've got for my WIPs that I can share a bit of!

ACT 1

a Tokyo Ghoul!AU FHR series I started on a little while ago. WIP title for now, I think i like the idea of setting up the story as "acts 1 & 2" for Rebirth & Retri. Here's a lil snippet from it I might publish soon once I get the "scenes/chapters" planned out more. Riding heavy on Tokyo Ghoul's "tragedy" quote for my titles on this WIP lol.

He beams, sunshine and smiles, the thousand-watt smile that melts hearts, melts hers a little too. She can feel the smile grow on her face, feel the way that damnable knot between her shoulders loosens a little still, after all of these years, and shit, that's a complication she doesn't need. Didn't and doesn't, not back then and not right now. His hand lands on her shoulder, friendly and comforting. To anyone else but her.

It feels like a lasso. A leash. A noose. Leading her to the front gates, dragging her to her doom. To the gates. The gates. That.

The gates in the Rangers' HQ that scan for RC cells.

Standard. Necessary. No, not standard. State-of-the-art.

Always the best for the Rangers.

Her pulse grows cold. Is she pallid? What does her face look like? Is it terrified, is the the mask crooked?

Last time. Last time, last time, years ago, the RC scanners were still new tech. Not strong enough the pick up her trace, the trace of a half-ghoul. But that. That was almost ten years ago.

A decade is long enough to make improvements.

stray.

Collection of small segments that talk about both of Isa's escapes from the Farm. Alas I'm still working on this! Just haven't made much progress as of late since my brain is rather fried but here's a little snippet!

The stars are beautiful.

Most places she's been deployed have swallowed their stars. Shot them down, trapped them in little plastic and glass containers, anchored to the earth to light roads and pavements and rooms. Kept like animals poached from the wild. Surrounded by wall and window cages in the comforts of humans' homes to chase away the dark. So many caught, so many brilliant stars brought down by man, leaving the skies above filled with an inky emptiness.

But here, in the Nevada desert where man could not remain, where they couldn't take and claim, not the stars nor the arid land, the night sky celebrates with the splendor of galaxies above her head. She stares into the wonder of purple-pink clouds of cosmic dust and the glittering shine of stars, motionless and quiet. She should be running. She should be taking advantage of the darkness that she had waited so long for, curled into a small ball beneath a pile of road debris to keep hidden in the light of day. She never understood the concept of beauty before; it was a uniquely human perception. Less-thans can't afford to think about such things. But she might understand it now. Just a little.

kiss & tell (it's called: freefall)

Another snippet from a piece of the "freefall" series I'm taping together in my free time! Hehehe so many good moments in this series it's always so hard to pick a snippet without potentially spoiling a part of the series's story.

"That's not the point!" He cries out, tossing his arms in the air and biting back the sting of regret when she flinches in the corner of his eye. Regret, then anger. Anger aimed at himself for regretting that. She does not deserve his sympathies right now.

"I get that you're not sorry. I get that you're going to do it again, even if I don't agree with it, even if I wish you would be sorry. What I want to know is why, Cerrísa. Please." His voice cracks, and he can see the way her face falls at the sound. "Please, explain yourself, Cerrísa. Because I'm running out of ways that I can understand you, and I want to give you the benefit of the doubt, that you're not just doing this- killing people- for shits and giggles. Please."

He's almost in front of her now, taller and casting a shadow over her but he feels minuscule in front of her, begging for understanding. She refuses to look him in the eye, and he hates that she's chewing on the already-cracked part of her lip, and he tries not to think about how the metallic taste would feel echoed in his own mouth. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, and every time it falls shut, he feels a little bit of hope within him die.

[camilbarnessss]

¤ The Dance of the Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 1 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

Masterlist [ This is the second season of "The Invitation". In this link you can find the former chapters, which are necessary to read before reading "The Dance of The Dragons" ]

Warnings: constant swearing, family toxicity, secrets and lies, oral sex (male!Targaryen receiving), fingering (fem!Targaryen receiving), angst, non-consensual kissing (?), TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please let me know if you want to be added, kept or erased of the taglist! Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

-Mother...-

-Yes?-

-Could you tell us a story?-

-Which of all stories, my child?-

-...One of ours-

■ ■ ■

As the first century of the Targaryen dynasty came to a close, the health of The Old King, Jaehaerys, was failing...

In those days, House Targaryen stood at the height of its strength, with ten adult dragons under its yoke. No power in the world could stand against it...

As the voice narrates, its owner's fingers play lightly between them.

King Jaehaerys reigned over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperity. But, tragedy had claimed both his sons, leaving his succession in doubt.

They blink, listening to the quiet words.

So, in the year 101, The Old King called a Great Council, to choose an heir. Over a thousand lords made the journey to Harrenhal.

Fourteen succession claims were heard, but only two were truly considered.

The voice chuckles lightly, amusedless.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the King's eldest descendant.

And her younger cousin, prince Viserys Targaryen, the King's eldest male descendant.

Everyone in Harrenhal stares with eyes wide opened and ears all up, watching and listening cautiously to the voice that raised in the big stone hall.

-It is declared by all lords paramounts, and lords vassal of The Seven Kingdoms...that prince...Viserys Targaryen! be made Prince of Dragonstone!-, and with that, clappings were not held by any present.

Rhaenys, a woman, would not. inherit. the Iron. Throne.

The lords instead chose Viserys...your grandfather...

Jaehaerys called The Great Council to prevent a war being fought over his succession, for he knew the cold truth. The only thing that could tear down The House of The Dragon...

...was itself

■ ■ ■

It is now the twenty-sixth year of King Viserys I Targaryen's reign.

146 years before the death of The Mad King, Aerys, and the birth of his daughter, princess Daenerys Targaryen.

146 years before Daenerys Targaryen.

■ ■ ■

Breeze, wind and clouds.

The breeze goes along the wind, quietly and freely, blowing the clear light clouds that surround the skies of a just-arrived morning. Everything up here is silent, and calm.

That, until a joyful roar is born behind the clouds, and then a golden ray suddenly passes between them along another mighty growl, sharp and loud.

A golden huge beast flaps his wings from up to down with power, flying fastly while reflecting the sun on his multiple bright scales, blinding and mesmerizing any eyes that dared to look at him. Up here, anyways, who is going to see him?

He makes maneuvers in the sky, turning on his own body, mixing the clouds with his tail, breaking the wind with his white horns. The Golden Ray may be more than a hundred years old, may have killed a thousand men and perhaps even burned some villages, but the spirit of a child will never leave his strong soul.

And he let everyone know that when he, at last, came out from the high clouds, meeting a city below him, where some of the people raised their heads before another of his sharp and sing-song roars.

Kalistrox flew above of King's Landing, mighty and majestically, drawing his huge body a little lower so he could be better appreciated by the ones who, well, appreciate him. Children looked up, smiling, amazed by the creature, while others grumbled, annoyed by the power this one holds.

The Golden Ray flapped his wings, flying higher again when begginning to head towards The Dragonpit. He growled while getting closer, narrowing his gold eyes and showing his teeth, almost with disgust. How much he dispites those caves. But, anyways, soon, he arrived.

As he flew above of the building, he could see his sister already being taken to the subterrean. Dreamfyre growled calmly as three dragonkeepers headed her inside, following her with their spears and yelling in the language she most understands. The black she-dragon, willing to rest, went inside the caves with no resistence, for she is used to them.

Moments later, when the arena was already clear, Kalistrox landed over his feet and wings, clenching them to the ground in the middle of an annoyed growl. Everyone from near had to quickly stepped back as much as possible, for he occupies almost the whole area now. He shook his golden long neck, making his scales's reflections to shake in the floor as well. As he took his place, another three dragonkeepers carefully neared to him, slowly.

-Dohāeras, Kalistrox [ Obey, Kalistrox ]-. The older man of them three spoke with cautiousness.

Kalistrox grumbled between his teeth, looking around with fierceness. Then, he felt a weight leaving his back, which made him to turn his head lightly. He saw his dear rider walking down his wing with quick steps, looking back at his golden eyes, and drawing a smile on her lips.

-We have to go home-, Daera Targaryen spoke softly, caressing his neck with her hands as she walked. He purred, lowly, forgetting for a second that they were in Dragonpit-. Kalistrox, eat-, she raised her brows, and he growled again.

-Princess-, one of the dragonkeepers greeted her. The princess finally glanced at them, forming a tiny smile on her lips, almost sour.

-I only brought him to eat-. She stressed, giving a last caress on his neck, and starting to walk away-. Feed my boy well, please. We have a long flight in a few hours-, the princess asked for, raising her brows.

Without one more word, the dragonkeepers noded towards their princess. They raised their spears towards The Golden Ray, who growled with annoyment, drawing his horns back with mistrust. Daera hummed raising her brows, and he purred, surrended, begginning to follow the men's orders.

She kept in her place, seeing how they take him to the caves, hiding him from the sun he so much likes. The princess sighed through her nose, reminding herself it would just be a few hours to take off from King's Landing. That same thought, though, also made her feel dissappointment.

Daera wears her Velaryon blues, wearing a tight dress of leather made just for riding a dragon, while her feet are covered by strong black boots. The princess carries on her fingers two rings made of Valyrian steel, sapphires as it gems. Many think the reason she wears those jewels is becajse they allude to the sea colors. She passed one of her hands on her white mane, caressing her long curls. Something very difficult to tell is that, in between all those wild curls of hers, a strand of straight long white hair is braided to her own, falling imperceptibly on her back.

When Kalistrox went out of her sigh, she sighed through her nose, turning around as she drew a smile on her lips, becaming aware of Ser Harrold Westerling who, on his horse, was looking at her with tiredness and relief.

-Princess-, he greeted.

-Lord Commander-. She answered funnily, glancing at the royal carriage that awaits for her-. I hope you did not bored yourself as we flew-, she says raising her brows.

-Boredom was not an issue, princess-. Harrold said within a sigh, and she chuckled amusedly, which made him to draw a smile as well.

-We didn't plan to last that long, Lord Commander-. A soft and tender third voice spoke. Daera softened her eyes while approaching to the carriage, where Helaena came from, peeking out her head with an innocent face-. We apologize-, she said to Westerling, who instantly shook his head.

-No worries, my princesses-. He spoke politely, gidding up his horse towards the carriage.

-Ay, cousin-. Daera sighed, walking the stairs of the carriage. Helaena giggled, giving her a hand and helping her to come in-. You do not apologize for riding your dragon-, she scoffs.

-You apologize for making people wait-, Helaena answered with a smile, closing the doors of the carriage. Daera clapped, taking seat comfortably.

-Well-, she raised her brows-. Let us not make more people wait then-, her head shook, and her cousin smiled bigger, running to sit at her side.

The carriage left The Dragonpit with four horses and two guards leading their path. The Lord Commander rides right in front of them, guiding and clearing the way for the princesses.

On the insides, the cousins talk with grins on their faces, having a leather bag with them, in wich they were acommodating something, and shaking it constantly.

Two other guards ride behind the carriage, having Targaryen banners flying in the wind as they rode through the streets of King's Landing, on their way to its mighty castle. The Red Keep.

The poor and dirty people from Flea Bottom watches the royal carriage pass between them with their golden decorations and their fine horses. Some look away, not even wanting to see the mighty family, others would gladly stare at them, trying to figure how it must feel to be in it. And others looked at the purple eyes that were also glancing back at them from the inside.

-Here!-, Daera's voice reached all the guards's ear. The horses instantly stopped.

-Gods be good-, Harrold sighed closing his eyes-. Princess-, he turns his head around, planning to say something, but it was already late, as he sees the carriage's doors opening.

The Lord Commander gasps, getting off his horse as well as the bannerman did, instantly guarding the princesses, who came out of the carriage elbow-held, smiley, and carrying a leather bag with them.

Ser Harrold wrinkled his mustache when seeing their expensive shoes stepping on the mud and shit of Flea Bottom. He sighed, holding his sword and looking around at every moment.

The cousin princesses walk together towards a wooden door, which started to be opened at the seconds of hearing the carriage stopping. One of the bannerman walked quickly towards there, carefully watching every move of his princesses, who were most than calm. Helaena stared at the doors with a kind smile, blinkless, while Daera smirked towards some children playing near them, not even minding their prescense.

From outside the old building, an older woman came out, who sighed surprised when seeing the Targaryen princesses right in front of her doors, standing in the mud.

-Hellou!-, Daera sang funnily, raising her brows.

-Princesses!-. She instantly nodes with respect towards them. Helaena curved her brows, shaking her head, not liking the show of inferiority.

-Good morrow, my lady-. The brown-skinned princess greeted, and she smiled to her, having her eyes shining-. I hope it is not too early for a quick delivery-, she says funnily, shaking the leather bag.

-Oh no no, my princess, not at all-. The woman instantly sighs, curving her brows-. Some of the children already are awake, so...it's- it's no problem-, she laughs, almost nervously.

-Why would they be awake at these young hours?-, Helaena asked with a confused expression, tilting her head. The lady sighed, shrugging briefly.

-They are...a little hungry-, she whispered, ashamed. Daera blinked slowly, staring at her with compassion, while Helaena furrowed her lips with pity, blinking and glancing away. They three knew they were not "a little" hungry.

The bannerman with them blinks silently, staring at the princesses from behind his helmet. He then glances at the woman, the one in charge of the Child Shelter this old ugly building is. The one the princesses have been helping for moons.

-Here, my good woman...-Daera whispers quietly, raising the bag on his hands. The lady open her lips, staring at it with a growing smile-. Enough dragons to buy the food for the next moon, we think-. She informs.

-Gods be good-, the woman sighs, blinking multiple times. Helaena grabs the bag, holding it softly with her delicate white fingers.

-...Bread, and cheese-. The dearest said, handing it to her-. Some apples too, for their lunches-, she smiles, blinking.

-And some sweets of honey as well-, Daera raised her brows, giving a soft caress on the woman's arm-. We know you love them too-, she winked an eye.

As she slowly took the bag, the lady laughed closing her eyes. Her chuckles were broken, filled with relief. She hugged the bag to her chest, while Helaena and Daera smiled softly at her.

The royal guards constantly glance at the princesses, hearing their tender words and watching their kind doings. Helaena is the sweetest, speaking quietly and blinking dearly. And princess Daera...the more she stays in The Red Keep, the more they are captivated by her unique persona. She just has so much to offer, they don't even know where to begin. Perhaps her beauty.

There were quite of some common men walking around while staring at the princesses. A lot of pervert eyes were over them from all places, desiring to get closer to those two mesmerizing dragons, but they were all harshly stopped by the guards and the Lord Commander, neither of them stopping themselves from pushing the commonfolks away so they wouldn't take a step closer to both Targaryen treasures.

-Thank you, thank you!-. The lady thanks endlessly as the princesses walk away from her, smiling.

-Go give them breakfast, woman!-. Daera laughs funnily, holding her cousin's elbows.

-We'll see you soon-. Helaena smiles, waving a hand on the air.

-Done, princesses?-. Ser Harrold asks as they walk back to the carriage.

-Yes-, Helaena nods.

-Ehh, almost!-. Daera giggles, suddenly walking away from them, and heading somewhere else. Harrold gasped, following her instantly, while the other guards saw Helaena, who was laughing, inside of the carriage.

-Princess!-, the Lord Commander calls.

-Oh come on, Harrold, I literally just took three steps!-. Daera huffs rolling her eyes, and then she smiles bigly when her gace connected with the one of a child who was selling fruits in the middle of the street-. Well, with what I will break my fast? I wonder-, she sighs with fake curiosity.

When seeing the princess approaching to him, the boy raised his brows and instantly stood straight, firmly holding his little fruit basquet. Daera scrunched her nose and laughed, bending her legs in front of him, reaching his height.

-Ah...-. The princess, interested, looks at his merchancy. All the fruit is poorly washed, probably not even washed at all, and, by some tiny wholes in them, she can tell they have worms. The people of Flea Bottom cannot eat this, she thinks. Daera scratched her superior lip with her inferior teeth, sighing slowly-. I think I will take all-, she shrugged.

Ser Harrold, standing behind her, glances around with cautiousness, though he allowed himself to draw a small smirk when hearing the boy's surprised gasp.

-All?-, he sttutered, shaking his head, and she noded with hers, smiling-. That'd be...one, two, three, four...-he whispers as he counts the fruit. Daera chuckled loudly, wrinkling her eyes and looking up at Harrold for a second-. Thirty five dragons-, the boy muttered, shocked.

-Uff, a little out of my pocket-. The princess made a face, wrinkling her lips as she reaches her little bag-. Oh well, here goes nothing-. She sighed, handing him all the coins he asked for.

As the coins fell on his hand, the boy didn't blink, mouth-opened.

-Ser Harrold, please take this to our carriage-. Daera stood up, grabbing the basquet. She found the insecure face of the Lord Commander, who wonders if she is really going to eat that-. Our horses will eat it, come on-. She whispered within a huff.

Harrold pressed his lips and noded, making a sign to one of his guards, who stepped front and grabbed the fruit, taking it to the carriage where Helaena calmly awaits. Daera smiles towards the kid, who looked up at her with a giant smile after counting the coins.

-There are fifty dragons in here!-, he pointed, exaltated.

-Op, hurry up then, before I realize it-. The princess gasped, raising her brows. The kid laughed, breathless, and didn't wait another second to shot out running from there.

Daera showed her teeth while laughing, giving light claps, and hoping the kid had gone with his family, or friend, or by himself. She just hoped he'd have a couple of good meals with that.

-You have made princess Helaena very known among the people, and yourself as well-. The Lord Commander spoke behind her, sincere-. You are very kind, princess-. He said, softly. Daera sided a tiny smile, turning to look at him.

-Am I?-, she whispers, looking around calmly.

-The people don't call you the Dragon's Goodness just because, my lady-. He chuckles proudly, raising his brows. Daera smirks briefly, shaking her head.

-Or perhaps we are too used to not care about them-, she murmured, shrugging lightly. Harrold sighed through his nose, somewhat ashamed, and agreed with a silent nod.

-We better return already-. He said.

She sighed, about to agree, but then something catches her eyes again. She narrows them, curious.

-Huh, interesting-. The princess mumbles and, again, begins to go down her own path. Not surprised anymore, Harrold sighed, following her, and pointing the carriage to do so as well.

Ser Erryk, with his long hair falling over his shiny armour, looks around endlessly with despair and stress, constantly talking and mumbling unintelligible words.

-Ser!-. A voice calls him, which made him to look, still annoyed. But when seeing it was princess Daera the one approaching, he instantly fixed his posture and loose his angry factions, hiding them-. How are we doing?-, she smiles, almost burlesque.

-Princess-, he greets her, glancing quickly at the Lord Commander, who stood alongside the carriage, some steps away-. Good morrow-, he says, pretending to be calm, but still looking around.

-A good one, indeed-. The princess sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Lazy, she also looks around, making a pout with her lips-. Let me guess, you can't find the cunt-, she raises her brows, funny.

Ser Erryk gave a light start, stopping his obvious search. Slowly, he turned his head to glance at the princess. Her eyes stared at his with tranquility and amusement, blinking calmly. He clenches his jaw, giving her a silent answer.

-Hump in our carriage and join us to the castle, Ser-. The princess invites him, shrugging. The knight instantly shake his head, looking away-. Let him have his fun, it's his problem-, she whispered funnily, opening her eyes big.

Helaena had opened one of the windows of the carriage, and now she rests her elbows in there, having her chin placed on them and blinking calmly as she sees her cousin mumbling with a knight of The Kingsguard.

-You should go home, princess, and I will find my prince-. Errys said, serious, avoiding her gace again. He hears her huff.

-Alright, I'll ask you twice-. The princess sighed rolling her eyes.

The knight and the princess turned their heads when they heard a sudden rampage. The door of a business its opened and, from there, Aegon is harshly pushed outside. The prince roared as he fell on the floor, covered with his own vomit, and now with the shit of the city.

-ARHG! HOW DARE YOU?!-, Aegon grunts-. Do- do you know who I am?!-, he yells, drunk to the core.

When seeing him, Helaena's expression changed completely. Her lips trembled and her eyes dyed with disgust, backing away from the window. After a whimper, she closed it with quickness, not wanting to see her husband's horrendous face.

Daera opened her lips slowly, looking at that gross man, that ugly and pathetic creature whimpering in the shit. She shook her head, bemused, ashamed of sharing blood with that disgrace of a human.

-Gods be good-, Ser Harrold whispered with his nose wrinkled-. Ser Erryk, attend your prince!-, he instantly commanded.

Erryk gulped, turning to look at princess Daera once again. She stills smiles to him.

-Last chance-, she whispered, pointing to the carriage.

The knight blinked, and then he gulped again and looked away from her eyes, quickly running towards the prince he is swore to protect. Daera sighed, turning around with disgust and disappointment.

Soon, she entered the carriage again, something Ser Harrold thanked to all of The Seven. All the guards returned to their places and, at last, they continued their path towards the castle.

After entering, Daera noticed Helaena's sour expression and her downcast look. She is aware of the change of emotions her cousin has when returning to home after a flight, after feeling so free and loose. Perhaps that is why she rarely rides Dreamfyre, to not feel this downgrade of feelings afterwards.

Daera sighed, getting closer to her, and offering her an open hand. Helaena looked at it. She started to smile slowly, reminding herself that at least she is not alone when being at home. She has her cousin, her brother, and her children.

The dearest took her hand, intertwining their fingers tenderly.

■ ■ ■

In The Red Keep, the morning is just starting to accentuate. The sky is already clear, but the sun does not shines too hot yet. The breeze within the wind is cold and sharp, making the servants to shiver as they are already doing a thousand tasks in the castle.

Prince Aemond is already awake as well, only that he woke up by his own terms, had a comfortable bath with hot water, and has his leather clothes to keep himself warm, so he knows nothing about the silent struggles of the servants, and does not care much either, to be honest.

The One-Eyed Prince walks by himself through one of the hallways, constantly humming as he looks around, apparently searching for something, or someone. His usual black clothes are perfectly combined by the black leather of his fancy patch, with its silver buttons lining perfectly on it. As he walks, his long mane bounces on his back with a slow rythym. Most of the people, when seeing him coming, look away, and that's a reason itself of why nobody truly notices the long strand of curly hair he has braided to his own, right behind his neck, hided. It's beautiful, the delicate braided of his straight hair with the curly dreadlock.

Aemond tsked, furrowing his lips. Seconds later, he encounter with one of the Cargyll twins walking in the same hallway as him. He called the first name that came to his mind.

-Ser Erryk-, he names firmly, stopping his walk. The knight instantly headed towards him, stepping steady.

-It's Ser Arryk, my prince, if it pleases you-. He corrected him politely. Aemond tsked briefly, for he has never been able to tell them apart.

-My apologies, Ser-. He tilts his head to a side, and the knight nods-. Perhaps you may know where my siblings are. I have been looking for them with no achievement-, he speaks serene.

-I'm afraid I don't know, my prince-. Arryk answered, shaking his head. Aemond sighed through his nose, staring right at his eyes at every moment.

-And about my cousin, do you know something?-. He asks with seriousness, almlst coldly when mentioning her.

-I apologize, I just started my watch so I can not say-. Arryk shakes his head too. He sees the prince furrowing his lips. Aemond wonders if he is the only Targaryen at the fucking castle at the moment. His father doesn't count-. I can call a search party for them, if that is what you wish-, he proposed.

-No-, Aemond denied. As long as he can avoid unnecessary attention to his family, he will-. I will find them, Ser, you may return to your duties-. He allowed, looking away from him.

Ser Erryk nods and quietly keeps walking through the hall, making his armour to clink. Aemond stood still, sighing through his nose, and thinking for a few moments. Until the sound of the gates opening reached his ears, along horseshoes galloping and guards talking.

Aemond quickly runs towards the closest balcony, placing his hands in there and instantly looking down, curious. He sees a royal carriage just arriving to the castle, leaded by the Lord Commander, who always joins the prince and princesses of the realm when they go out. That instantly made him know who were in the carriage.

He draws a huge smile on his face, gives a quick clap on the balcony's railing, and then fastly walks away from there.

The gates are closed, and the carriage doors opened by the bannermen. The princesses instantly walk out of it, holding hands and giggling as they talk about what they will have for breakfast.

-Eggs, yes, I'll definetely have eggs-. Daera nods raising her brows.

-Ohh, I remember how much I hated eggs during my pregnancy-, Helaena sighed with a tired smile.

-Yeah cuz, I also remember, you ate none of the breakfast I used to order for you-. Her cousin huffs rolling her eyes.

Helaena laughs funnily, but her chuckles stopped, being replaced by a growing grin when she saw her brother walking out of the castle from one monent to another. The brother she is fond of, to be clear, not the other crap.

-Sister-, the one-eyed prince calls with reproachment.

-Brother, good morrow-. The sweetest nods, quickly glancing to her cousin sideways.

When Daera saw him, she faded her smile and tsked her tongue, not looking at him for more than two seconds. The bannermen, while taking their helmets off, stared at her in silence, discreetly watching her from head to toe.

-How many times we'll talk about this madness, Helaena?-. Aemond repproachs, walking right past his cousin, not even glancing at her-. The city is dangerous-, he raised his brows, standing in front of her.

-We were with the guards-, she answers simply, shrugging.

-Hmm, sure you were-. The one-eyed blinks, burlesque. The guards leaving glanced at him sideways, obviously keeping silent.

-You forget yourself, cousin, Helaena and I are both older sisters-. Princess Daera spoke burlesque, staring front as the breeze blew her hair. She smiles towards the guards, while the prince blinked strongly, lifting his chin-. We know better-, she taunts.

-And you forget that you don't live in here, cousin-. Aemond turns around and crosses his hands behind his back, also burlesque. The princess turns her head to look at him, serious.

-Worry not-, she bops her head to a side-. I'll be leaving in no time-, she muttered.

When she said that, Aemond closed his lips, slowly, staring right at her eyes. His only eye glittered with sadness, so quickly. Having noticed that, Daera bit her cheeks from inside, sucking them, and looking at him in silence. Helaena blinked glancing at both of them, and then she gulped, playing with her fingers.

-It is too early for quarrels-, Helaena says, raising her brows briefly. Her brother and cousin stopped looking at each other, quickly hardening their expressions again.

-Or perhaps too early to wander about, princess-. A fourth voice made them all to look, finding The Hand of The King coming out of the castle with his characteristic face of knowing it all.

-Ugh-, Daera huffed, not hiding her disgust when seeing him. Otto glanced at her as she started walking-. I will break my fast by myself, cousin-. She informed to the other princess, who pressed her lips and noded, silently.

-Princess...-Otto greeted Daera with a light nod. Halting her steps at his side, she looks at him for three silent seconds, having her lips furrowed.

His breathing smells like fucking horse shit, she thought.

Daera hummed, aparting her gace of him and keeping her walk. Soon, she entered The Red Keep and left them in the patio. Aemond sighed through his nose, starting to walk, which Helaena did as well. Their grandfather stared at them as they approach.

-The little princes are hungry-, Otto informed, turning around, and walking with them.

-Uhum-, Helaena nods, having her lips pressed and her fingers over her belly.

-I shall join you to your chambers-, Aemond speaks, looking front-. I wish to see my nephews-, he mumbles, and his sister noded again.

As grandfather and grandchildren walk through the hallways, he hummed lowly, giving a soft blink.

-Your cousin's presence always seems to...agitate The Keep's serenity at early hours-. Otto comments, pretending to be polite. Helaena furrowed her lips.

-At all hours, I'd say-. Aemond mumbled.

-We went to fly, grandpa-. She pointed.

-Ah...-, Otto sighs.

-Having her in our home ten days a moon has not been a grateful experience-. The one-eyed says with a soft harshness, if that makes sense-. It didn't since the first time time-, he muttered. Otto drew a tiny smile on his lips, glancing at him.

-Daera is sworn as my children's godsmother-, Helaena said with her cheeks sort of red, staring front as she talks and walks-. She has the same right to see them, as does their godsfather-, she raised her brows, looking at the named godsfather. Him.

-A nonsense-, the one-eyed huffed.

Otto chuckled in a low voice. Soon, they arrived to princess Helaena's bedroom. Guarding its doors, Ser Criston stand firmly and steady, seeing them approach with a light expression on his face. He thanked the gods princess Daera was not with them.

-My lord Hand, my princes-, he greeted, and they three noded with politeness and tiny smiles.

-Good morrow, Criston-. Helaena smiled at him.

Cole gave her a smirk as well, grabbing the door's handles and opening it for them. Instantly, the soft voice of a woman reached their ears from inside the room. Helaena blinked, being the first one to walk in, being followed by her grandpa.

-Cole-, Aemond nods towards him.

-My prince-. Criston nods as well-. Will I be seeing you in the training field today?-, he asks, absolutely knowing the answer.

-As always-, the prince smirked, walking inside the room. The knight smiled, following behind him and closing the doors again, now being with the family in the princess's chamber.

Queen Alicent is standing in front of two cradles alongside the bed. She is leaning front, with a thin opened book on his hands, reading it with the softest voice in existence.

-Then, the frog wandered around the foreign swamp for hours and hours, not finding the comfort of his own home...-, she reads the tale with tenderness. On her, she has two pair of beautiful purple eyes, for her grandchildren are listening carefully, even though they do not understand a word.

Criston stayed near the door, looking at his Queen with deepness and concentration. Otto stood close to him, while Aemond and Helaena walked closer to their mother. The one-eyed stared at her with a quiet smile, hearing her tender reading. The children's mother tilted her head, chewing a tiny smirk.

Alicent opened her lips, turning her head around. She sighed when seeing her daughter, closing the book with slowness.

-Helaena-, she sighed-. Where were you? Your children must eat-, The Queen walks to her, planning on touching her arms.

-I am aware-, Helaena instantly flinches, moving away from her touch. Aemond blinks slowly, seeing his mother gulping with shame, pretending that nothing happened-. They shall eat...-she whispers softly, heading to the craddles with light steps, begginning to smile.

-Princess Helaena apparently went flying with her cousin, the princess Daera-. Otto informed with a hoarse voice. Criston huffed, closing his eyes, while Alicent furrowed her brows.

-That early, Helaena?-. The Queen instantly repproached. Helaena sighed through her nose, not looking at any of them, for she just watches Jaehaerys and Jaehaera-. Do you now how dangerous the path to the Dragonpit is at those hours?-, she asked agitated, making her long red curls to bounce.

-Princess Daera convinced her, it is obvious-. Criston says firmly. Aemond wrinkles his lips, turning around and heading to the balcony with pretend disinterest.

-That girl can ride her beast at any time she desires to, but you do not-. Alicent raised her brows towards Helaena, even though she is not looking at her. The dearest tsked under her breath, desiring for silence-. If your cousin tells you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?-, she asks burlesque.

-I wish to be alone to feed the children, please-, Helaena quickly spoke, suddenly turning around. Alicent shushed, gulping. Otto didn't hear the order twice, heading to the door-. My kids's godsfather can stay-, she nods to a side.

From the balcony, receiving the breeze, Aemond does not move an inch. Alicent closed her lips, crossing her hands over her belly with seriousness.

-The day is quite busy, indeed, The Hand and I have many matters to attend to-. The redhead nods, and her daughter does too, facing her kids again-. I will return tonight, so my grandchildren and I may finish our tale-, she dictated, walking to the door.

-You may-, Helaena whispered.

The Hand, The Queen and her Sworn Protector walk outside the chambers, closing the doors behind them. As the babes babbles, Helaena turns her head towards the balcony, where Aemond came from with slow steps, also staring at her.

The princess starts to smile.

-Fuck!-. Daera grunts.

A wall of the room suddenly turns into a door when it is opened, and from behind it, their cousin arrive, sighing with stress and laziness.

-Gods! Does these things ever get lighter?-, she complained, huffing. Aemond rolled his eye, walking towards there with quick steps while Helaena giggled funnily-. Fuck, now to close it again-, she mumbled, facing the wall.

-Let me-, Aemond quickly stepped front, closing the wall for her. Daera bit her lips and played with a strand of her hair, looking at him from feet to toe.

-What a gentleman...-she purred.

-Don't look at me like that, love-. He grunts as he pushes the door.

-Yes, don't look at him like that-. Helaena joked as she carried the twins off the cradles.

-What? Isn't one allowed to look at one's husband?-, Daera scoffs, fakely offended. Aemond grunts and laughs, turning his head to look at her.

-Oh you may, please, I beg you-. Aemond mumbles-. But not in the presence of children-, he grumbled, all flirty, leaning towards her. Daera purred funnily, wanting to grab his face and pull him closer.

-Please don't-, Helaena sighed.

-Please do-, he winked an eye to her, who laughed from deep her throat, walking away from him.

-I shall ressist-, the princess said funnily. She, then, smiles tenderly, seeing Helaena now carrying the twins in her arms, sitting on a chair-. Who snored all night? Yes, you did!-, she squeals, pinching Jaehaera's cheeks. Helaena laughed vividly as well as her daughter did.

-Is she still snoring?-, Aemond asked with disbelief, walking towards the door of the room, and locking it.

-We got to accept it, Jaehaera is a girl who snores-. Helaena sighs amused, rocking her babes tenderly.

-Hmm, I know someone like that-. The one eyed mumbles burlesque, staring at his wife, who instantly huffed.

-I don't snore, I breath just as you! Get over it-, she grunted rolling her eyes.

-Right-, he raised his brows-. Helaena, I will get the babes bottles ready, where are they?-. He asks, looking around the room.

-No need to, I will feed them myself-. The mother said with a calm expression. They looked repproachfuly at her-. It is healthiest-, she insisted.

-The twins are just a few moons away from turning a year, they are big enough to get used to bottles-. Aemond pointed, shaking his head.

-Not yet-, Helaena quickly denies. Daera laughed funnily, caressing Jaehaerys hair-. You'll understand it if you ever have children-, she said to her.

Daera's eyes shined when hearing the idea. She blinked a few times, staring up at Aemond, who looked back at her with his cheeks sucked to the inside, forming a slow smile.

-Mama-, Jaehaerys babbled, moving a hand.

-Yes-, Helaena scrunched her nose, smiling.

-Say Aemond-, Aemond asked, leaning front-. Say Aemond, the two of you, come on-. He smiles with hope.

The babes stare blankly at him.

-Let it go, dear-. Daera sighed caressing his back. He tsked, standing straight again.

-While I feed the children, you two should go have breakfast too-, Helaena speaks, raising her brows. Her brother draws a tiny smile, glancing sideways to his wife-. You'll leave within a few hours, cousin, and you shall not leave starving-, she says.

-Kind of you to remind us, sister-. The one-eyed sighs, obviously disgusted by the fact of her soon leaving. Daera smiled softly at him.

-Go open the door while I help Helaena, love, please-. She gives a soft caress on his arm.

He humms, turning around and walking towards the hidden door. Daera leaned front, begginning to carefully take off Helaena's dress from her chest, making off the threads. As she does that, Helaena watches her brother opening the wall, as she has been seeing since not so long ago.

-Are you ready to eat, huh?-. Daera speaks to the kids, tenderly, taking Helaena's breasts out with a light touch-. Yess, milk-. She whispers funnily.

-Those secret passageways...-the dearest whispers, seeing the open wall, where Aemond already went out from-. They are a blessing, as much as they are a curse, do you not think?-, she wonders within a low mutter, staring right at them.

-Hmm?-, Daera looks up at her eyes, listening.

-They can mean a salvation as well as they can mean a threat's best pathway-, the princess talks reflexive, and slowly. Her cousin blinks thoughtful, caressing her naked shoulders-. It it just...matter of luck, I think-, she narrowed her eyes.

-It is not-. Daera shook her head-. Our ancestor, Maegor, knew what he was doing, I assure you-. She raised her brows-. That is why only we know about them...and it will stay that way-, the princess dictated.

Helaena blinks and looks back at her, finding comfort and confidence on her cousin's eyes. That made her to smile lightly, closing her lips and nodding innocently, agreeing.

-Alright, I'll see you later-. Daera smiles, and then she places a quick kiss on one of her naked breasts, making her to flinch-. Farewell!-, she says funny, walking away.

-Daera!-, Helaena laughs loudly, turning all red.

Daera chuckled running outside the room. Resting his back on the wall, Aemond turned to look at her and smiled cockily, narrowing his eye. She bit her lips and neared to him, pushing the door back in.

-Hungry?-, he mumbles.

-Quite-, she raises her brows.

Aemond smiles, holding her hand and starting to walk. Daera hugged to his arm while laughing, placing a kiss on it as they walked in the hidden passageways, mumbling and giggling between them.

■ ■ ■

Another secret door is opened, and this one gave them pass to Aemond's chambers, which they entered to in the middle of sighs and laughs, ending the talk they were having before.

-Home sweet home-, she taunts funnily, combing her hair with her fingers.

-Huh-, Aemond huffs, closing the door back again, checking twice if it was well closed-. It's the most of a home I can give you, for now-. He sighed. She tsked, turning to look at him.

-Home is wherever you are, silly-. The princess reproached, raising her hands to caress his elbows briefly. Aemond smiles, turning to look at her with a soft gace-. We also have an island, did you forget?-, she narrows her eyes.

-I almost did-, he noded, fully sarcastic. She showed him all of her teeth, laughing burlesque-. So...you're hungry, you told me-. The prince mumbles, taking her shoulders and making her to turn around slowly.

Daera presses a smile on her lips when she sees two breakfast served on his table, warmly awaiting for them. The breakfast that he always makes for her the day she has to leave King's Landing. The princess giggles, feeling how he started to push her softly.

-Ouhh, my love!-. She grunts excited, clapping as he pulls her chair for her-. Orange slices?!-, she shouts surprised, pointing at the table.

-Only the best for my Daera-, he whispered funnily, placing a kiss on one of her cheeks. Daera huffed and shivered, punching his chest funnily.

-Don't say "my Daera", I've told you, it's so stupid-. She giggled like a teenager, feeling her cheeks burning.

Aemond closed his eyes and laughed as he received a thousand kisses on his ear from his wife's lips. Then, this one sits. Blushed, he stills giggles, pushing her chair with his knee.

-So, did I tell you?-. He asks, walking to his chair as he takes his patch off with calmness-. I have been asking Criston, in the trainings, to attack me with all of his strength-, he commented.

-Is that so?!-, she raised her brows, pinching the food with her fork-. Fuck, love, he has been to war-. Her brows curved, and her mouth laughed.

-I have been doing perfectly, wife, you do not worry-. Aemond shook his head, smiling as he takes one of the orange slices. She smiles, nodding funnily.

-Alright-, she says with her mouth full-. I also wish to do that, in our trainings in the island-. Daera suggests, narrowing her eyes. He faded his smile, and even his sapphire stopped shining-. You punch me as hard as you can, oy?-, she smirks.

-Over my fucking dead body-, Aemond answered, making her to instantly laugh. He rolls his eye, also forming a smile-. How was your fly? I apologize, I didn't ask before-. He says, tilting his head.

-Do not apologize-, she giggled, chewing-. It was lovely, as always. I just love flying with Helaena, she looks so happy-. Daera sighs curving her brows. Her husband smiled tenderly, chewing slowly-. And Dreamfyre and Kalistrox, they are siblings, they love sharing the clouds-, she added, laughing.

-Hmm-, Aemond smirks-. A shame my brother doesn't give his dragon the same freedom to fly along his siblings-, he sighed, thinking about Aegon.

-Please-, Daera mumbled, rolling her eyes-. The most beautiful dragon in the world, many say, mount of that wastrel-, she huffed, bemused. The one-eyed agreed in silent nods, looking at his plate-. Sunfyre...-, she sighed.

-A beauty-, he agrees-. And, speaking about my brother. It appears he didn't sleep here last night. Helaena and you, perhaps saw him...-, he tilts his head, curious.

-Yes, we saw him-. His wife answered-. Bathed with his own puke, drunk in Flea Bottom-, she scoffs, smiling. Aemond pressed his lips and closed his eye, ashamed-. Having Ser Erryk as his servant, not as his protector-, she complained.

-Gods-, the one-eyed sighed, looking away. Daera chewed slowly, beginning to shake her head.

-All that, and yet your mother dares to defend his "right"-, she mumbled, highly burlesque.

-Daera-, Aemond stared at her again.

-My balls have more right-, the princess huffed.

-No politics in the table, love-. He quickly shushed her, serious. Daera bit her lips, looking at him, blankly, and then huffed with her nose.

-Of course-, she mumbled with a sarcastic tiny smile, lowering her gace to the plate, eating from it. Aemond kept on chewing, sighing and shaking his head in silence-. Kalistrox is also having breakfast, by the way-. She commented.

-Did Vhagar leave him something?-, he curves his brows as he asks, moving the fork on his plate.

-No, she didn't-. Daera denies, remembering all the cows and goats's burned skeletons she saw on the bay when they arrived, Vhagar sleeping among them-. That's why I took him to The Dragonpit to eat-, she sighed, raising her brows.

-Hmm, he hates it-. Aemonnd pointed within a low murmur, playing with his food.

-Yes, he does, and he is growing too big for it, I fear....-. Daera wrinkled her lips, feeling pity for her boy-. As soon as we are done with breakfast I'll go for him, and...we'll leave-, she informed, keeping a calm face.

Aemond clenched his jaw, tightening the hold on his fork. He blinks slowly, staring deeply at his food, no longer with appetite.

-I don't wish to arrive too late-, she shrugged.

-Ah-, Aemond smiles. She looks up at him with curiosity, silent-. Dare I guess that you don't want to keep your...husband waiting, do you?-, he asks, bobbing his head.

-Aemond-, she instantly huffs, creating a burlesque smirk. The one-eyed gulps, shaking his head.

-That whore can't live without you-, he sing-songs his words, leaving his plate to a side.

-You, whore, can't live without me-. Daera corrected with a burlesque tone and a cocky smile. Aemond opens his eye big, firmly staring at her-. And I, another whore, cannot live without you either-, she mumbled, slowly standing up from her chair.

-Hum-, he looks away, to the balcony, pressing his lips-. You should remain here, in your true husband's castle, not in that of a...-, he cuts his own words when he hears a really, really, really familiar sound.

A button being unbuttoned.

He instantly turned his head. Daera gives him a fake smile, as she unbuttons her dress from the front, one by one. He gulps, clenching his hands on the chair's arm.

-What are you doing?-, he scoffs, glancing away only for a second. He looks at her again, seeing how her breasts were starting to show-. Daera-, he grumbles.

-Bold of you to think I will leave without getting mine-, she mumbles, burlesque, taking her tits out. The one-eyed clenched his teeth, instantly feeling his pants tightening-. Your poor wife, always having to remind you who she really belongs to-, the princess taunts, tilting her head, and begginning to pull her dress down.

-Gods be good-, Aemond started to open his long legs, slowly-. I...I'm expected in the training patio-, he mumbled with his last straw of duty, feeling how lust is quickly overpowering it.

-I care little, husband-, Daera shugged, taking off her dress completely. She caressed the leather belt wrapped on her left thigh, so close to her ass. Aemond growled, smirking at last-. Did you hear that?-, she narrowed her eyes, slowly bending on her knees-. Husband-, she stressed, placing her hands on the floor.

-Daera-, he mumbled, watching her every move.

Daera crawls on her knees and hands, staring right at his eye and his sapphire. Aemond hummed longly, shaking, for the goddess crawling to him is already driving him insane just by her mere nakedness. Her majestic, alluring and maddening nakedness.

-Oh...-, his throat purred.

-Do do wish to train, then?-. She babbled, burlesque, every time closer to him.

Aemond growled, burlesque as well, for she obviously knows he no longer wants yo train, if he ever did.

-You know what I wish, wife-. He grunted, almost mad because of her sudden seduction. The princess laughed, placing her hands on his pants's lap, grabbing it. When he felt the grasp on his cock, he moaned and flinched on his chair, grabbing its arms tightly.

-You knew you weren't going to train after breaking fast-, Daera mumbles, starting to make his threads off. Aemond closed his eye with a smile on his lips, leaving himself all to her-. You know I never leave without giving my husband a proper farewell-, she taunted, feeling the sun touching her naked skin.

The prince chuckled, answering her. He raised his hands, placing them in her hair and careesing it slowly. Daera tilted her head to a side, kneeling more closer to the chair, and feeling how his cock grows every time harder below his leather pants. As she started to take them off, Aemond's breathing accelerated, and he bit his lips.

-Do me, wife-. He whispered with a string of voice-. I want this to be our last encounter, until the next one-, the prince mumbles, looking down at her while caressing her hair. She looked up at him, silent, pulling his pants down slowly.

Then, his cock finally showed up. It came up as soon as the fabric left it. Daera tsked, curving her brows. It does not matter how many times she has saw it, she just doesn't get tired of doing so, and neither of having it on her mouth. Aemond hummed softly, losing his fingers on her mane, and pushing her head closer. She sighed before this, feeling his despair.

-...I beg you-, her husband whispered.

-You know the rules-, she mumbled, licking her lips-. No noise-, she said.

He hummed shakily as his response. Daera lowered her eyes to the cock again, watching it pulsing, feeling its heat. Aemond raised his eyebrows slightly, attentive to her movements.

She licked her lips, and then parted them, beginning to tilt her head forward. She pulled her tongue out of her mouth, and ran it over the tip of his member with a slow pace. He closed his eye within a strong sigh, pressing his lips when feeling that.

-Fuck-, he whimpered.

Having heard his low moan, the princess smiled. She brought her face even closer, passing her tongue again, now leaving it for longer, and making small circles in the very tip. He loves that so very much, and it is obvious because of how he gasped into a growl, with his throat aching.

Daera smiles mischievously, excited, and shrugs her shoulders, amused. Come on, its to easy.

With a great security covering her, Daera kept her tongue from her, and opened her mouth widely, beginning to hide Aemond's member with it. She moaned lowly with her eyes closed, going beyond the tip, fitting her lips there, and sucking his cock with her cheeks.

She didn't hear anything from Aemond, but it was because he went mute by lust, with his mouth wide open and his eye tightly closed, taking a long deep breath and being covered by an insame pleasure thanks to the mouth of the purple-eyed on his dick. He will never get tired of her lips, her deep sucking. Aemond always becames a madman when his dear wife sucks his cock.

Daera hummed, and went further, thus reaching the middle of his member. She began to move her head from front to back, increasing her speed little by little, used to the feeling of that tension inside her mouth. She placed her hands on his hips, hugging them and nailing her ten nails in them.

Aemond shivered as he bit his lips, holding all of his moans, wich were actually screams. The white-haired princess does it just perfectly. She brings waves of pure pleasure to hit him every second, with her lips, with her throat, without seeming to want to stop.

-Seven hells-. He moaned with a frown, feeling how tongue and lips wrapped almost all of his member with total lust-. My Daera-, he sighs, placing his hands at the sides of her head, following her moves-. You are doing it so good, ow...-he cried.

She closed her eyes, tasting his salty flavour, already tasting his precum as well. Daera jumps slightly on her own knees, humming and gasping, caressing his naked thighs. Aemond bit his lips and grabbed her head tighter, even though he didn't want to hurt her, but he just wanted to feel her even more. Honestly, that made her laugh, for she loves when he gets this hungry and needy, desiring the littlest touch. She loves the feeling of his cock throbbing inside her mouth, so hard yet so fragile, listening to him sobbing out of delight.

She sucked it, licked it, kissed it and savored it with great pleasure, sometimes taking it out and others going back in, spitting on it from time to time, and reintroducing it between her lips. Everytime she spits he flinches on the chair, literally jumping and drawing a sudden smiles. Fuck, her saliva boils against his skin. And dragons do love fire.

-Daera-, his voice trembled. He grunted, grabbing in one hand all of her hair, taking it out off the way and also guiding her movements with soft pulls and pushes.the other hand he put it behind his head, resting on the chair's back-. My lady-, he moans.

The pleasure is not only his, for she is equally at the top, groaning and growling as low as possible between laughs while she eats her husband in an amazing oral sex. Sometimes she even wants to chew on his member. But no, that would hurt him.

Her naked cunt is wetting with quickness, with every of his constant hums and husky sounds. He is a piece of art himself, isn't he? Huh, not to even mention the beauty he has kneeled in front of him, hurting her knees just to be giving him this much pleassure and the best of farewells. Isn't his wife an unique delight?

So, here they are, the Targaryen princes who so much hate each other. The servants know it, the guards know it, the realms know it. That rumour from the past about The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess being lovers are nothing but a forgotten memory to everybody. Everyone knows the generational conflict between their families, how could they ever be together? She is too much of a woman for him, some say. He is too serious for her, others mumble. One thing is true: Aemond and Daera Targaryen are not fond of each other. Meaning that...they have been lying perfectly.

-Fuck!-, Aemond flinches on the chair again, grabbing her hair tighter-. I'm cumming, dear, oh fucking hells-. He breathed with no control, clenching his teeth.

Daera groaned, breathless, moving her head faster and sucking deeper with her cheeks, which were already tired, but nevertheless, she continued. She would lick his tip and suck the cock completely. Aemond grunted closing his eye strongly, and showing his teeth when he clenched them harshly, feeling his soul burning inside of his body.

-Daera, Daera. Gods, Daera!-. He blesses and cursed her name countless of times, as he always does as he becomes insane. Aemond sobbs with a smile, throwing his head back from a moment to another-. Fuck, I...!-, his voice became a breath.

His cock finally exploded, as so did his heart, full of pleasure. His cum came out so quickly, and it all ended up at Daera's mouth. She growled as she took it all, keeping it on her cheeks. She hears him sobbing, mumbling and laughing, sometimes thinly sometimes hoarsely, everything while caressing her hair with his sweaty hands.

-Oh, my goddess...-Aemond babbled, slowly looking back at her. He found her intense eyes on him. She has her cheeks full of his cum, and he moaned when realizing it-. Swallow it...-he mumbles, twirling his fingers on her hair.

Daera blinked, placing her closed lips on his tip again, and she began to open them, really slowly. His cum spilled out of her mouth and began to trickle right over where it came from, slowly dripping all over his cock. Aemond opened his mouth and growled as seeing the pale drops running down his dick, almost artistically. He shook his head, bemused.

After taking a breath in, she leaned front and licked all of the drops back into her mouth, now definetely swallowing them with no shame. She giggled, proud of herseld. The one-eyed laughed as well, breathless, fiding her alluring.

-Oh, my girl...-he sighed, caressing her wild mane. Daera looked up at him, licking the left drops on her lips. He bit his for a brief second-. My only girl-, Aemond whispers, mesmerized.

-I better be-, she groaned, and he laughed, making his cheeks even reder-. And, just so you know...-she leaned front again, whispering almost right over his tired cock. He blinked, staring deeply at her-. I won't be doing any of this with "my husband", when I arrive home-, Daera murmured, burlesque and cockily.

Aemond opened his eye big, keeping calm, blinkless. She winked an eye at him, and placed a kiss on one of his thighs.

-Come here-. He suddenly growled, standing up and taking her hands, pulling them so she'd stand as well. Daera breathed fast because of the fast moves, and she grunted when he suddenly grabbed her waist, squeezing it-. He is not your husband-, he breathed fast.

-The fuck he's not-, she breathed quickly as well, pressing her womanhood against his cock. Aemond grunted, giving her a turn around and making her face the bed.

-He doesn't deserve you-. The One-Eyed purred, placing his hands on her back, and suddenly pushing her on the mattress. Burying her face on it, the princess laughed, climbing into the bed with amusement-. Wait there-, he mumbled, taking off his shirt's buttons.

-I'm not too patience, my prince-. Daera said, funnily, lying face down. She rested her elbows on the mattress and moved her legs on the air-. You better hurry-, she laughed, glancing at her nails.

The princess chuckled when feeling a weight joining her in the bed all of a sudden. Aemond hummed with a smile as he placed himself on top of her, climbing over her body with his messy loose hair, hearing her harmonious laughter. She bit her lips within a smile when feeling his now naked body over hers, so warm.

-There you are...-she murmured funnily, playing with her rings as she sees them.

-Here I am-, he mumbled within a smile, closing his eye and caressing her neck and shoulder with his nose-. Hmm...-he hummed, sniffing her delightful fragrance-. We always fuck when we fight-, Aemond pointed.

-Yes, that's why we're married-. She huffed, burlesque. He chuckled, kissing her shoulder warmly.

-And alive-, he joked, and they both laughed. Daera giggles, closing her eyes while feeling his soft cock pressing right against her bare ass, driving her insane-. Then I won't see you for a whole fucking moon-. The prince murmured, bitter-...again...-he grunted.

-Oh-, she tsked, closing her eyes for a few seconds-. You know how this works-. His love whispered, sighing.

-I hate how it works-, he grunted, clenching his teeth. Daera noded, moving one of her legs to caress one of his, joining him on his feeling. Aemond, calmed by this, closed his eye, resting his chin on her back-. I hate to have you just for a few days, Daera. I hate to see you go-, he complained, thinly.

-And I hate to leave, my love-. The princess whispered softly. He hummed, begginning to caress her jaw slowly, moving his forehead on her back-. But we both have our own families to attend to-, she pointed.

Aemond chewed the inside of his cheeks for a few moments, silent. He didn't want to think about it anymore, not now. So, after a brief sigh, he began to get two of his fingers on his wife's mouth. She didn't hesitate for a moment, opening her lips and letting him in, sucking those fingers with slowness.

-That's it, doll-. He whispered, nearing to one of her ears. Daera groaned, holding his wrist.

-Remember to touch yourself, every of this nights, until we see each other again-. She said within a whisper, licking his fingers-. I don't want you to starve-, she mumbled.

-I will touch myself, while thinking of you, my lady-. Aemond mutters against her ear, seeing how she takes his fingers so well into her mouth, sucking them slowly-. You do so as well-, he pleaded.

-I always do-, Daera moaned, feeling her pulsing cunt. She bit his fingers briefly, furrowing her brows-. Please touch me...so I remember-, she whispered. Aemond nailed his eye on hers, drawing a smile.

Well, a few minutes passed, and...

-Fuck!-, the princess shrieked in a sharp moan, moving like crazy on the purple-eyed's bed as his fingers rubbed fastly against femininity, drowning her in the purest of pleasures.

-No noise!-, the prince growls, breathing heavily over her right cheek, kissing it constantly while he satisfies her with three fingers entering and leaving her interior, while with the other hand and his five fingers he moves her clit from side to side, making her to shake non-stop, and taking more and more air from her.

-Aemond!-, she sobbs with her mouth open, yelling against his pillow, leaving her saliva on it. He touches her endlessly, still on the top of her, keeping her body pinned against the mattress, against his long expert fingers.

-You always forget the rules-, Aemond bit his lips hard, looking at her expressions from the side of his eye. She loosens and tight her face, always with a smile on her lips as she moved non-stop, stimulating her breasts and also biting her lips in the midst of wild laughter, being a victim of those hands that she adores so much-. Silent, Daera!-. He couldn't help but laugh.

-Ow fuck me-, she said, breathless-. Ow fuck me every day, everywhere-. The princess pleaded, as wet as a sea.

-I can't but wish, my love-. He purred over her ear, kissing it. His wife whimpered so sharply, rubbing her ass on his cock.

With only one of her eyes open, Daera saw how Aemond separated his hand from her cunt, but this was only to take it to his mouth, soaking his own fingers with his own saliva and tasting her sticky fluids right there, swallowing them with pleasure, which she laughed excitedly at, arching her back almost painfully.

-You filthy girl-, he whispers agitated, stopping licking his fingers and returning them to where they were before, now shaking them with much more fluidity and abruptness, making her to cry on the mattress, squeezing the pillow-. You always scream so much, you always yell-. He growls, feeling the burning wet skin of her cunt-...I like it-, Aemond sang on her ear.

-ARG! Oh, right-she moans like crazy, her chest rising and falling, getting wet and weter because of him-. You are the one who always cries, bitch-. She smiled stupidly, wrinkling her eyebrows as much as she could, and then opening her mouth wide.

The One-Eyed Prince laughed, not denying it, and then his fingers somehow accelerated each movement and each pressure even more, driving his wife crazy. She just couldn't handle one more second of pleasure, and so she came from one moment to the next in an abrupt climax and a loud cry on the mattress that was music to the prince's ears.

He felt and saw, without stopping to do anything, how Daera came eagerly on bottom of him, squeezing the pillow and turning back her ass while she moaned and gasped non-stop, breathing his name with a most goofy and unfocused smile.

-Aemond, oh fuck, Aemond-. Her breathing, with no control, sang beautifully and thinly. He bit his lips as he rubbed his fingers on her hot clit, slowly calming down his quickness-. Fuck, fuck...-she sighed, moving her hips like a snake.

-Well done, wife-. He whispered, placing a kiss on her neck. She tsked, bitting her lips with low moans-. Always so well done-, he praised her, begginning to play with her tits.

-You god-, Daera sighed with her eyes closed-. Hells...I'll need to place a fucking candle on my fucking cunt so I can feel what I feel with you-, she complained, still getting back her breath. He raised his brows, smiling.

-I beg you to not try-, he mumbled insecure, and she instantly laughed. He followed, wrinkling his eyes and huffing through his nose-. Ah...fuck-, he sighed, tired. The prince doesn't wants her to go.

-Yeah...-she mumbled, tired too, blinking slowly as she feels his hands cupping her tits-...fuck-, she agreed. The princess doesn't wants to leave.

Aemond closed his eye, placing a loving kiss on Daera's mane.

■ ■ ■

Aemond roared low, slashing at Ser Criston with his sword, attacking him with all his strength and agility. His trainer was breathing heavily, and responded to each movement with the same strength and agility.

Ser Cole, all sweaty, grunts throwing his morningstar against the prince, who quickly stepped back with a hard expression, carefully. He raised his sword again, deffending himself from the round weapon. He wanted to slice it in little pieces.

He wants to slice them. Everyone who has wronged him, everyone who keeps taking his love away from him.

The One-Eyed Prince clenched his teeth, putting all of his fury on his training, hitting every time harder and faster, madder. The rage that nests inside of him always show easily the days Daera has to depart from King's Landing. He just feels so much despair, angst and fierceness. Impotence. He can't do anything. Worse, he has to pretend he is happy for her leaving.

He has never killed anybody, but when he wields his sword with this angriness clouding his mind, he just pictures them. Jacaerys and Lucerys. He can't help but imagine he is tearing apart his wife's fake husband's head from his body, and beating the life out off the bastard that took his eye and snitched them when they were still hidden lovers.

In days like these, when he knows he will we sleeping alone, without the warm soul of his wife, its when he remembers the most all of the injustices that have been commited towards him, all made by them. It ashames him so much, it drives him so mad.

Aemond let out a low growl, pushing Ser Criston with his shield, and then clashing his sword against him with no stop. Cole laughed, surprised, encouraging him even more.

All of those punches, clinking and growls in the training patio are being heard and watched by Princess Daera, from a high balcony of The Red Keep, all alone and silent.

She scrunched her nose, flinching when seeing Aemond receiving a harsh punch by Ser criston. She hissed, worried and annoyed, but knowing she couldn't do anything. Daera just sighed, and Aemond quickly stood on his feet again.

The princess gulped, playing with her fingers while looking at him at every moment. She has been on this balcony for a few minutes, watching her husband training. She expected to find a good ambience, but that is too much to ask for in this castle. Aemond is not training, he...it seems he is actually readying himself to kill.

Daera hummed within a little laugh, shaking her head, and throwing that thought away.

She is very aware of how he gets the day she has to leave after staying in The Keep for ten whole days, visiting her dear godschildren and her cousin. In general, those ten days are always happy, and she expects them with no cease. But, when the tenth day, the last one, arrives, their little bubble just...explodes.

Aemond roared, wielding his sword.

Daera has knowledge of the resentment that has grown into her husband during all of these months. Thay don't really talk about it, for they try to evade the topic as much as possible. But no words are needed, she just feels it, she feels his- his fury, his rage, his hate.

Anyways, the princess convinces herself of just letting him feel what he has to feel. She knows she herself is not a person that tolerates other people telling her what to feel, and she knows Aemond isn't either. So...she just lets him feel his feel, even though she doesn't share it at all.

It's been nearly a year since Aemond saw her family for the last time. Nearly a year since they both abruptly took off flying in their dragons from Driftmark to King's Landing. Nearly a year since they arrived to The Red Keep, planning on deffending their love, just to find their families advocating against it. Nearly a year since Jace came up with his solution, and stole her hand from him. Oh she is sure, she is so sure, that Aemond hates them.

Daera shivered, playing with her rings and shaking her head.

Yes, yes. Aemond hates them, so what? She hates half his family and yet she lives with them for ten days every moon and everything goes just fine. Aemond hates them, but she has dealt with that perfectly for more time than she can count. Besides, what does it matters? They are not planned to seeing each other again soon, and that calms her down, hugely.

Everything is marching just as they planned. Apart.

■ ■ ■

Once again, Kalistrox came out of the clouds. But, this time, he is surrounded by multiple stars and a dark night sky. And, instead of seeing The Red Keep, he saw the castle of Dragonstone, which has its torches all lighted up, warming up its outsides.

On his back, Daera formed a big smile on her face, sighing trough her nose and grabbing tighter to her saddle.

-Alright, boy-. She whispers, caressing one of Kalistrox's horns on his back. He purred, flapping his wings with calm-...We are home-, the princess smirked, feeling her mane flying in the wind.

Soon, The Golden Ray reached one of the multiple mountains of the island, close to the beach, where the rest of her family's dragons were already sleeping, though some of them opened their lizard eyes qhen feeling the newcomer's landing near them. Daera growled and laughed when they finally landed.

-Well done!-, she sighs, not waiting anything to come down of her saddle. Kalistrox sighed and purred, tired-. Rest now, my boy, we had a long flight-. The princess whispered as she walked down one of his wings, caressing his neck.

Her dragon agreed. He roared lowly towards the other dragons from close, greeting them. Vermax and Syrax welcomed him with dear growls, while Arrax and Tyraxes still sleep deeply. Moondancer is away, and there was no sign of Caraxes.

Daera smiled, greeting them as well. She adjusted the brown leather bag that hangs on one of her shoulders and, in a breath, walked until she was facing her dragon, approaching him tenderly.

-Salīnma rūts naejot se oktion [ Another trip to the city... ]-, the princess whispers her Old Valyrian as she caress the sides of his golden face. The dragon purred lovingly, closing his eyes for a few seconds. She smiled calmly, feeling his tough cristal scales-. Īlon ēdan kirimves, daör īlon? [ We had our fun, didn't we? ]-, she asks him, funny.

Kalistrox growled tenderly as he slowly lowered his body to the grund, lying on it. His rider laughed with amusement, caressing his huge horns with her small brown hands, the ones he loves so much to feel. He stares at her, deeply, watching her tired smile and her tender eyes.

-Nyke gīmigon ao mikst zirȳ tolī [ I know you miss them too ]-, Daera raised her brows and noded, thinking about Vhagar and Dreamfyre, about Aemond and Helaena. Jahaera, and Jahaerys-. Yn īlon'll māzigon arlī, hae va moriot [ But we'll come back, as we always do ]-, she reminded him, smiling. Kalistrox purred as an answer, blinking slowly. She giggles, placing a soft kiss on his forehead, watching really carefully to not cut her lips with any of his little horns, or even with his very scales-. But I also know how much you love being home...-, she whispered funnily, giving him a last caress.

After wishing him a good night, she turned around and began to walked down the mountain, humming a song as she walks in the safe night Dragonstone welcomed them with. Kalistrox watched her until she dissappeared from his sight. Warmed by his own self, and by all the kisses she gave him, The Golden Ray closed his eyes, falling into a tender sleep after a final thought. No rider of him has been kinder and lovelier than princess Daera Targaryen.

Not too long after, the princess was greeted in the gates of the castle by the guards in there. They welcomed her with their usual politeness, happy of seeing her back. She also greeted them with joy, calling them by their names and wishing them a good night.

Afterwards, finally inside of the castle, Daera yawned as she walked freely. It is late, so there is literally no one around, and her steps are the only thing heard. Smiling, she yawned again as she streched her arms to the sides.

-WELL, WELL, WELL!-. She suddenly yelled loudly-. I expected a warmer welcome!!-, the princess shouted burlesque, opening her eyes big as she walked. Immediately, she heard some quick steps approaching-. Might as well just go to my chambers and sleep myself to death-, she shrugged.

-You attention seeker-. A sharp and familiar voice, as burlesque as hers, answers.

Daera smiled, halting her walk, and then she saw her father walking out of a hall, dressed in his night clothes, but with a very awaken expression. His crazy eyes opened big as his thin lips drew an automatic smile when he saw his older daughter standing in there with a prideful posture.

-Daera-, he breathed her name, quickly walking to her.

-Ah so you remember my name?-, she narrowed her eyes.

-Shut it, child-. Daemon snorted as he grabbed her into his arms, hugging her. Daera laughed loudly, hugging him back. The hug just lasted a few seconds, and then he faced her again, licking his lips within a smile-. You back from hell then?-, he asks funnily.

-Indeed, can't you see I'm fucking burned?-. She pointed at herself with taunt, rolling her eyes. Daemon laughed sharply, wrinkling his eyes.

-You have thick skin-, he said, raising a hand to pass it on her hair, fixing some rebel strands-. And...a bag-, he raised his blond brows, pointing at it-. A good wine would be welcomed this night-, the prince mumbles.

-Oh, then what a coincidence I have the very one you asked me to bring from the capital-. Daera gasped with fake surprise, opening her bag, and taking out a big bottle of wine of it. Her father instantly cheered, grabbing it with no doubt-. I may have taken a sip or two-, she warned.

-I'm pretty sure you may have taken six or ten-. Daemon muttered, shaking the bottle and then making a pout with his lips. She smiled innocently, shrugging.

Someone else came out from the hall Daemon came out from before. Rhaenyra. She arrived with an open smile and a shiny face, caressing her bulging pregnant belly. She has five months in.

-Isn't it too late to drink?-, The Heir to The Iron Throne asked, narrowing her clear eyes.

-Never-, her husband mumbles.

-Nyra!-, Daera smiles, and does not wait a second to run towards the pregnant princess, who widened her smile as seeing her approaching.

-My dear-, she sighed, welcoming her with a sided hug. Daera giggles with her nose scrunched, pressing her cheek against hers-. Did you fly safe?-, she tilts her head to a side, smirking.

-Kalistrox always flies me safe-. The younger princess showed off. Then, she suddenly fell on her knees, facing her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra laughed, and Daemon did as well, walking calmly towards them-. Hellooou!-, she greets the unborn babe with all the happiness of The Seven Kingdoms.

-They missed you-, Nyra comments funnily, caressing her belly with one hand, and Daera's head with the other.

-Oh you mean she missed me?-, Daera asked, stressing the gender. Daemon raised his brows, smiling, while her stepmother huffed with excitement, shaking her head-. I swear it, Nyra, this one will be your firstborn girl-, she promises with a hopeful smile, caressing her belly.

-Then she shall be heartily welcomed-, Rhaenyra sighed, glancing at her husband, who sided a smile with sweetness looking at her to-, or he!-. She raised her brows.

-Yeah yeah-, the princess sighs rolling her eyes.

-Daera!-

-Daera!-

Daera's name was happily mentioned by nearing voices. Daera instantly stood again, forming the biggest of smiles when she sees Rhaena, Luke and Joffrey arriving. And, in the arms of the first two, were Aegon and Viserys.

-Holy fucks, who woke them?!-. Daemon snorts when seeing the awaken babes, babbling happier than ever.

-Fucking hells, hii, hii!-. An excited Daera runs to them, leaning front as she approached. Rhaena, Joffrey and Luke ran quickly too.

-Aegon said my name for the first time a few days ago!-, Luke informs with excitement.

-He did?!-, Daera laughs excited, taking his head, and placing a kiss on his brown hair.

-He didn't, he just babbled! But I swear Viserys did say mine! I swear!-, Rhaena spoke excited and quickly, hugging her sister from a side.

-He puked, Rhaena!-. Joffrey corrected as he laughed, hugged to one of Daera's legs strongly.

-Are you implying my name sounds like vomit?!-, Rhaena gasped shocked as her sister placed a greeting kiss on her forehead, laughing.

Daemon and Rhaenyra pressed their lips, amused, glancing at each other in silence.

-Joffrey!-, Lucerys reproaches the younger-. It doesn't, Rhaena, it doesn't-. He softly says to her, shaking his head. Rhaena sighed relieved, smiling to him.

-It does! RHAENA!-, Joffrey pretended to gag, and Daera instantly bursts out laughing towards the ceiling.

-Joffrey!-, Rhaena and Luke repproached.

-Fucking gods, Joff, you're- you're hilarious, my boy!-. Daera laughed as she leaned front to kiss his head and caress his hair. Joffrey chuckled proudly, closing his eyes-. Rhaena, Rhaena-. She gaggs too, carefully taking Aegon and Viserys from her siblings's arms-. It does sounds like vomiting-, she taunts.

-Daera!-, Rhaena grunts.

-I'm jesting, I'm jesting!-. Daera laughs, rocking her little brothers into her arms-. I'm just jesting, right boys?-. She smiles to them dearly, caressing her nose against Viserys's.

-How was your flight? Good?-. Lucerys asks with his cheeks red, smiling as he caress Aegon's little hairs.

-Yes, everything good? How is Kalistrox?-, Rhaena questions as well.

-More than well, already sleeping in the mountains-. Daera answered with soft laughs, rocking the babbling babes-. I also could use some slee- OW!-, she tsked when Aegon suddenly pulled her hair strongly.

-Gods!-, Luke scrunches his nose.

-No, no, let go!-. Rhaena holds the babe's hand carefully.

-Fuck, Aegon!-, the princess laughs curving her brows.

-Come, come, give him to me-. Rhaenyra quickly approaches, opening her arms. Chuckling, Daera handed him carefully-. They should be sleeping, and they were!-, she glanced at Rhaena and Luke with a funny reproachment.

-They wanted to welcome Daera!-, Joffrey instantly excuses.

-Yeah I bet-, Daemon chuckles, taking Viserys as well from his daughter's arms. She smiled, caressing the twins heads.

-We'll see that you have a supper arranged, you must be hungry-. Nyra raised her brows towards her older stepdaughter, who quickly noded.

-Oh yes yes, please-. Daera sighed curving her eyebrows-. I am starving, as a matter of fact-, she confessed. The last thing she ate was breakfast, and the fact that she had sex with Aemond afterwards just made it go quicker.

-You should always fly with food on you, as I do-. Lucerys said proudly, and she huffed, amused, after seeing Daemon and Rhaenyra leaving with the twins.

-Yes, like the time you almost choked while flying Arrax, right?-. Daera taunts, and Luke fades his smile, scratching his neck.

-It was not the best idea to have a stew, I recognize it-. The prince mumbled, and his sisters laughed, making him to smile.

-Alright, okey-. Daera laughs, raising her hands-. Pick a number between one to three, now-. She snapped her fingers, pointing at them.

-One-, Rhaena quickly says.

-Two-, Luke flinches.

-Three!-, Joffrey smiled.

-Alright Joff, you go first-. Daera smiles, opening her bag and looking for something on it.

-But one goes first!-, Rhaena rolled her eyes, smiling.

-No, Joff goes first-. Daera winked an eye, and Luke laughed amused-. My boy, here you have-. She smiled, handing him a pair of delicate leather gloves sized for his hands. They are all black, and have a small red three-headed dragon on each side.

-Thank you!-, Joffrey jumped and laughed excited, taking them with a bright on his eyes.

-Do you like them?-, Daera asks with a smile.

-Yes! I always like what you bring for me!-. The boy smirks happily. His sister watches him with the same happiness, blinkless-. Thank you, Daera! I will show mother!-. He cheers, shoting out running from a second to another.

-Watch your steps, Joff!-. Rhaena yells him shaking her head.

-Alright, sweet boy, let us see what we have for you-. Daera wrinkled her lips, looking in the bag. Luke smiled within a sigh, excited for whatever she brought him from the capital-. Ouh, how about this?-. She giggles, taking out a long cape made to measure for him that reaches before his feet. It is a dull red, and embroidered with dozens of small gold diamonds all over the fabric.

-Uf, gods!-. Rhaena sighs with a smile, while Luke blinked hugely, forming a wide grin.

-More than fit for a prince, don't you think?-. Daera asks to her sister, who noded excited-. Do you like it?-, she smiles to him.

-Its- its beautiful, yeah, Daera! Gods!-. Lucerys cheers, taking the cape and looking at it with a shine on his eyes-. Thank you!-, he looks at her.

-Only the best for you-, she smiled tenderly, caressing his red ear. Luke laughs, staring at his new clothe again. Then, she looks at her sister, who bit her lips with a smirk-. And for you as well-, she mumbles funnily, searching in the bag again.

-I always trust your taste-, Rhaena sighs, smiling.

Daera giggles, and then she takes out from the bag a fancy red necklace, made with precious sparkling diamonds inlaid in the middle. Her little sister gasped when seeing it, instantly holding it into her hands.

-Seven gods-, the younger princess whispers, amazed. Luke smiles when seeing her smiling. Daera bit her lips, tilting her head while watching her reaction-. It is majestic-, she sighs, mesmerized.

-You like it?-, her sister asks within some soft laughs, raising her brows.

-I love it, sister, thank you-. Rhaena smiled sweetly, hugging it to her chest-. I will wear it first thing tomorrow-, she promises.

-I'll fit you great-, Luke flattered her with a pressed smile. Hearing Rhaena giggling like a child, Daera chuckled, palming her bag.

-I am glad you liked your gifts-. She says-. I brought a pair of shoes for Baela, but they'll have to await for her, huh?-. She sighs, laughing.

-Ugh I can't wait for her to be back-, Lucerys sighed too.

-Neither can I, and thanks the gods you arrived already. Staying alone with all the boys is not as fun as it seems-, Rhaena commented, opening her eyes big.

-Yeah-. Luke agreed-. Wait!-, he gasped, realizing what she really said.

-Well I'm here, I'm here-. Daera laughs amused, raising her hand to caress one of Rhaena's cheeks. She smiled to her, dearly-. Baela will be arriving in a moon already, and she shall have her shoes-, she said.

The same day Daera left to her usual ten-day-visit to King's Landing, Baela also left Dragonstone, with Driftmark as her destiny. As the sisters always do, she is staying with Rhaenys for a short time, being her ward, joining her grandma in her hearings and audiences as Lady of Driftmark. Within a month, Baela is supposed to be back already with her siblings and family.

Daera blinks calmly, looking at them with a growing curious expression.

-So-, she crosses her hands over her belly. Luke and Rhaena look at her-...Where is my husband?-, the princess asks, shrugging.

■ ■ ■

Aemond, quietly, stares deeply at the fireplace in front of him. He is seated, in his chambers, all alone and silent. A fire may be warming his surroundings, but his heart beats coldly. That empty feeling.

As he watches the flames, one of his hands plays with the curly strand of hair braided to his, caressing it slowly between his steady fingers. His lips are forming a serious pout, and his only eyes seems to never ever blink.

I should have moved faster when I saw Criston heading towards me, the prince thinks. He neared through my blind side. Cruel, but smart. I need to twirl, and never lose focus of my foes. If I need to dance while fighting, then be it, but I must turn constantly.

Aemond wrinkles his pout, blinking one time.

Daera is probably in Dragonstone by now already, he suddenly realized. He clenched his jaw, playing more slowly with the curly hair. Its unbelievable, he thinks, how boring his chambers are without her in it, how cold the fire lits. Her warmness is back with her people, surely, with them people.

Daera would be so happy if she lived in King's Landing and visited Dragonstone from time to time, not the other way around. I know it. The people love her, as well as the weather does, and Helaena, her children, Vhagar. I love her. She is his wife, and a wife must reside at all times with her husband, in her husband's lands. And yet, again, she is with his sister, the whore of Dragonstone, and her bastard children, her bastard fake husband. What I would do if I could just-

The prince's thought were interrumpted by sudden coughs he heard from outside his chamber. Aemond furrowed his brows, disgusted, listening to the raw strong coughings. It was a man's, he could tell by its roughness.

Prince Aemond wondered whether if it was Aegon arriving from the city already, drunk and tipsy, or if it was his dick of a father, Viserys, coughing every time closer to dead.

He wouldn't care if it were Viserys. But, when thinking about the possibility that it was his brother out there, he tsked and stood up from his chair, quickly walking to the door. He opened and checked outside, tense.

He had wished it was Viserys.

Aegon stumbles in the hallways in the middle of his coughs and laughs, babbling a thousand of Valyrian words. He moves like a ship in a storm, from side to side, endlessly. A group of maidens, at the end of the hallway, stare at the drunken prince while murmuring and blinking big.

-Fuck, Aegon-. Aemond instantly flinches, walking outside of his room-. Go away!-, he roared towards the gossiping maidens, and they quickly shivered, walking away within a second-. Aegon-, he grunts his name with poison.

-Brother-. Aegon opens one of his sleepy eyes, finding his tall slim brother madly walking towards him-. Dracarys-, he mumbles.

-Shut up!-, Aemond growls, taking his shirt neck and pulling him abruptly. Aegon gasped, almost dragging himself in the floor, and beginning to laugh dryly.

-You- you need some fun for yourself, brother-. Aegon mumbles tiredly, not even knowing where he's being pulled to-. Let me take you to the city, let's go-. He mutters.

Aemond pushes him harshly, and he fell violently into a divan, where he began to laugh and acommodate himself. The one-eyed breathes heavily, disgusted by the view of his drunken brother. Quickly, he closes the door back again, not making any noise.

-If it had been mother the one who found you like this- if it had been grandfather!-, Aemond grunts, facing him again. Bored, Aegon huffs, closing his eyes-. Fuck. I should send you to sleep to The Dragonpit, you morron-, he spits sourly.

-Does not sounds like a bad idea-. He smiles, silly, thinking of Sunfyre. The one-eyed shakes his head, bemused-. Where is...um, where is Helaena?-. Aegon asks tiredly, palming the cushion below his head-. I wish to...I wish to see my children-, he babbled-. Bring them to me!-, he ordered.

Aemond opened his eye big, turning to look at him with his lips slightly opened. He sighed, bemused, shaking his head from side to side.

-You have no right-, the one-eyed whispered. Aegon furrowed his brows, looking up at him-. You can't come and go whenever you want, drunk and stinking of a thousand whores, and then claim to see them-. Aemond hisses, standing so firmly, looking so big and mature at the side of his weak and poor-minded brother, who opened his lips while listening at him, offended-. You are no one to them-, he whispers.

-I am their...!-, Aegon's voice broke.

-I am their father-. Aemond cut his words, coldly. Aegon left his lips hanging, feeling them trembling. He looked up at his younger brother with tears on his weak eyes, barely awake-. More than you have been-. He tilted his head to a side, not having mercy towards his reckleness. Aegon gulped, and Aemond began to leaning front, staring deeply at him with no emotion on his eye-...They're no children of yours-. He dictated, cold.

Aegon's throat trembled, and he couldn't take it any longer. He sighed and buried his face on the cushion. Perhaps he fell asleep, perhaps he started to cry. Aemond did not checked, and he just kept looking at him, silent, disappointed.

What he would do if he had Aegon's place. Firstborn of The King. He has a wife, and mistreats her. He has children, and neglects them. Its so not funny. All these days, all these moons, all this year Aemond has wished for has been all that. He would show off his wife if he could, in front of all the lords, in front of all the houses, and in front of the whole kingdom. He would love the children she could give him, no matter how many. He wouldn't leave them alone for a second. He would not forget their names, their age, the dragons they'd ride. He would not play blind if someone dared to do harm to his children, or his wife.

Aemond breathed heavily as bitter tears gathered on his eye. He deprived himself from sobbing, for he would never cry in front of Aegon, not even if he's asleep. He blinked those tears away, inhaling deeply.

Knockings in the door took him out of his thoughts, thanks the gods. The prince hummed lowly, walking towards there and opening the door with a cold expression. Ser Erryk is the one standing outside, all sweaty and pale, breathing fast.

-My prince-, Erryk greets, and Aemond doesn't even blinks-. I apologize for the late hour. Prince Aegon fleed from my side, my prince, I wonder if perhaps you-

-My brother is already in bed, Ser-. The one-eyed interrupted him. Erryk breathes deeply, hiding any sign of emotion, but he felt so relieved-. What a fine Sworn Protector you are, Ser. I can smell you were having your fun with the prince, outside in the wild city-. Aemond draws a sarcastic smile, making the knight to shiver, opening his lips-. Hmm, but worry not, I've already done your job, once again. Good night-. And he closed the door within a second, right on his face.

Ser Erryk stood frozen, staring at the wooden door that nearly clashed with his nose. Prince Aemond clearly doesn't know that the reason why he smells like brew is because Prince Aegon throwed a goblet at him when taking him out of a brothel, in Flea Bottom. How could Aemond know? How could...any of the Greens?

The knight gulped, and silently turned around, standing firmly, and guarding the doors of the chambers, as he will do all night.

Aemond walked passed Aegon without even looking at him, hearing his snores. He walked out to his balcony, finally having some fresh air. He sighed heavily, crossing his hands tightly behind his back.

The One-Eyed Prince watched at the stars for a few seconds, and then he closed his eye, tired. He whispered his wife's name, wishing for her. He wishes, so bad, to be back in Pentos right at the moment.

■ ■ ■

Daera opened the doors of The Chamber of The Painted Table, silently walking into it with a soft expression. And when she does, she finds Jacaerys on a chair. His head is between an open book in the table, and he is deeply sleeping on it, drooling.

Daera instantly laughed, closing the doors behind her and walking inside the room. She watches him, so relaxed and calm. Michevously, she took and chair and dragged it on the floor, causing a shriek sound to rise in the chamber.

-AH!-. Jace abruptly wakes up, gasping-. The- the Conquest of Dorne!-, he answers a not asked question, exaltated.

Harmonious chuckles reaches his ears. After blinking two quick times, he found Daera taking seat just at his side, smiling bigly and funnily. He gasped when he saw her, smiling as well.

-You are back!-, he cheered, instantly hugging her with dearness.

-I'm back, and you were fainted!-. She joked amused, hugging him back between laughs. Jace chuckles, feeling the tender caresses she always gives on his hair-. Are you alright?-, she asks him.

-Yes yes, I am-. Jacaerys instantly nods, slowly breaking the hug. He stares at her in silent, watching her face for a few seconds. She smiles at him, sighing.

Jace glances at her lips and, after licking his, he began to lean front, planning on kissing her. Daera quickly gulped, placing her hands on his chest, and stopping him.

-Jace-, she named, calmed-. Remember that we don't have to do that when we're alone-. The princess whispered as soft as she could, tilting her head.

Jacaerys gulped strongly, starting to nod, and then giving her a small smile. She smiles back at him, gulping too, and looking away. When she did, he stared at her again.

-Is a book more comfortable than your bed? I wonder-. She mumbles curiously, quickly glancing at the table.

-No, not at all, I was...reading-. He sighed, massaging his forehead with two fingers, as Daemon sometimes does.

-Reading, was it?-. Daera mutters, looking at the book he has opened. She eyed it, furrowing her brows-. This is High Valyrian, Jace! Of course you fell asleep, for you don't understand it-. She pointed with laughs, and he snorted looking away.

-And that is my mistake!-. He complained, exhausted-. I have to start study it, as soon as possible, I'm already late for it- the prince sighed, closing his eyes.

-Sūrs dōrī loktīs naejot gūrēñagon-. Daera says funnily, and he tsks ashamed, not having understood a single word-. Its never late to learn, Jace-. She translated it, tilting her head with a soft smile.

-Why didn't I learn it when I was little, as you and your sisters did?-. Jacaerys complained with a sigh, curving his brows.

-Well, father and mother were pretty strict about us learning High Valyrian-. Daera clearly remembers, laughing a little when thinking of her mother and their endless lessons with her-. And, when we moved here, I very much remember that, between the language lessons and the training, you and Luke would always pick the blades, gladly-. She pointed, still laughing.

-Gods, so stupid-. Jace snorts, shaking his head. Daera watches him softness and understanding, rolling her eyes over his face-. I will not be able to be a good king to Seven Kingdoms if I don't even speak my ancesters language-, he complained, stressed.

-Of course you'll be-. The princess said, raising a hand to caress one of his cheeks with her thumb. He closed his lips and sighed through his nose, looking at her-. And of course you'll learn!-, she giggled, raising her brows.

The boy shook his head, with no hope. The princess chuckled, opening her bag, and searching something on it.

-Here...-, she hands him a well preserved book of perhaps over three hundred pages. Jacaerys raised his brows, instantly smiling when seeing his gift from the capital-. It goes about the many monetary crisis The Seven Kingdoms have gone through-, she says.

-Oh gods, that is so interesting!-. Jace sighs, and she nods proudly, scrunching her nose.

-One you can read-. Daera raised her brows. He laughs briefly, placing the book in the table.

-Thank you-, he whispers. She smiles at him, blinking calmly-. So, how was your visit to King's Landing this time? How are things there?-, he asks, curious.

-Well, Helaena and her children are obviously the best part-. She scoffs, and he agrees with laughs-. Aegon is still a whore, Otto Hightower as well-. Daera sighs, placing an elbow on the table-. And my uncle...your grandfather...-, she stays silent as her eyes gained a sad glitter, thinking about the king's horrible health. Jace gulped, staring at her. Daera shook her head for some silent seconds, tired-. Alicent still makes her best efforts to noy let me see him-, she sighed.

-You are the princess-, he complained.

-Well she's the fucking queen-. Daera rolled her eyes.

-And you'll be too, I don't know what she thinks she's playing-. Jacaerys huffed, shrugging. Daera drew a smile on her lips, giggling briefly-. And Aemond? Was he a pain too?-. He asks within a sigh, narrowing his eyes.

The princess sighs through her nose, not looking away from him.

-Nyke jaelagon nyke istan rūsīr zirȳla isse konīr arlī... [ I wish I was still there with him... ]-. She whispered, lowly and softly, thinking of King's Landing. Of Pentos.

-What? Oh, come on!-. Jace tsked when not understanding her. Daera laughed funnily, blinking.

-I just ignore Aemond, as always-. She answered, lying-. We have nothing to talk about-. She shrugged, shameless.

-Good-, Jace drew a tiny smile, nodding. Daera blinks, doing the same.

-And...have you exchanged any letters, with Baela, since she left to Driftmark?-. She asks curiously, lightly raising her brows. Jace raised his as well, looking away.

-She has sent us some-, he nodded.

-I asked about you-, Daera clarified.

-Come on, Dae-. Jacaerys sighed, rolling his eyes briefly-. Baela doesn't like me anymore...not like she used to, you know it better than anyone-. He pointed, aware of the fact that the Targaryen sisters share eveeything between them.

The princess sighs, accepting it. The truth is Baela was mature enough to move foward and forget her hidden but obvious feelings towards Jace after he decided to marry his sister. Now he is her cousin, her stepbrother, her brother. Nothing more.

She places a hand on one of Jace's shoulders, gripping it with tenderness.

-I just hope that, some day, she came to understand that I married you for the good of everybody-. He whispers heartily, with all of the good intention of the world. Daera drew a tiny sour smile.

-She understood it perfectly, Jace-. She mumbles-. 'Tis you...the one who still struggles with it-, she tilted her head to a side, hardening her expressions a little.

-I do not-, he quickly denies. He inhales deeply, placing a hand on hers, over his shoulder, caressing her fingers-. I love you deeply, Daera...-. Jace declared, leaning front.

-Hmm-. She smiled for a second, having heard that a thousand times from his mouth. How much she would like to scream that she loves Aemond instead-. Alright then-. She whispered.

Jacaerys stared at her, drawing a soft smirk. He leaned front, grabbing her cheeks with tenderness. Daera gulped, curving her brows, and staring at him with a tired grin.

-I know how lucky I am to be your husband, Daera-. He whispered, leaning everytime closer. She hummed, placing her hands over his, gulping again-. I think about it daily-, his sweet voice said.

Then, Jacaerys kissed Daera, his wife.

He closed his eyes, and caressed her cheeks, kissing her slowly. He wouldn't go beyond her lips, not even meeting her teeth, but yet, he kissed her deeply, wanting her to feel how true his words were, or how true he wishes them to be.

His lips are soft, but not as warm as Aemond's. His thumbs are kind, but not as long as Aemond's. His breathing is not Aemond's. He doesn't moans, he doesn't humms, he doesn't sings her name. His kisses are tender, but not as Aemond's. This is not her husband.

After bearing the kiss for a whole minute, Daera slowly began to break it, doing it softly. Jace smiled silently, watching at her eyes. His cheeks are so red. She smiled too, blinking a few times.

-Join me for supper-, she asked him with a soft whisper.

-Of course-, he muttered.

Daera desperately wishes to eat. Not only to end with her hunger, but also with the sour taste that her mouth now has.

■ ■ ■

Taglist: @loxido @jaime-in-flannel @grungegrrrl @aemondswifey @poppyflower-22 @melaneigh2 @stargaryenx

[kimwedlock]

Little Dragon

Estimated reading time: 6 minutes

    Through the glittering surface of the dark, azure water, down past the constant tug of the current, beneath the reach of shimmering shafts of light, where the pebbles twitched and the green fronds swayed. The roar from the mountains penetrated even here.    The tiny wyrm froze in fright at the vibration, before a gentle hum softened the water around it.    "Do not panic, my little dragon. It is not a sound you will hear often."    The wyrm turned back towards its mother as she coiled her long, serpentine body tighter into her rocky nook, and lay her great head down beside him among the waving stems of reeds. The same current that tried to pull him away merely tugged at the fronds on her chin. The duckweed didn't stir far above them.    "Their story is your story. It is time I tell you, and you shall heed it well. For the good of all of us."     The wyrm settled and watched as the light played over her scales.    "Eons ago, dragons were abundant. We ranged through swamps, caves, deserts, seas, forests, jungles and ice. There was nowhere we could not live and adapt to, and the world was our kingdom for millennia. We saw the rise and fall of many creatures, and few of those who survive today are anything like they used to be. But we dragons have not changed so much. We have always been the kings and queens. We fit the world perfectly. It was made for us.    "But in time, deep time, another creature - a wingless, puny creature - arrived and took offence. A creature that cannot adapt, and instead changes the world to adapt to them. In their eyes, our perfection made us a threat, and they began to hunt us. First, because they feared us. Then because they wanted our scales to wear, as if they could become like us, and be perfect like us. Then, for nothing but sport. Hundreds upon thousands of us have fallen for the sake of their glory."     The wyrm jolted at a splash from the bank. The serpent lifted her heavy head and watched the beaver swim past. She didn't bother even to snap at it, and lay her chin back down.     "And they learned. They hunted us in mating season, the most dangerous time they could - that was the thrill. The excuse. But we were then also our most vulnerable. We dragons are tied to our nests." Another hum rumbled through the water, and she twitched her fronds in amusement. "But this is how we river wyrms survived where others fell.     "Dragons are ancient, as I have said, and we have never had reason to hide. Many make spectacles of themselves in the skies for mates and territory. Water dragons, however, do not. Nor do we breathe fire or fumes. And so few have thought to look for dragons by the water, and we in turn keep away from where along the rivers the creatures make their homes.    "But one of our kind could see what the rest could not. She knew the creatures would expand their territory, just as we did, and we would either be seen, or cut off from one another, unable to breed. Our species would die out either way. And we could not fly away to safer waters like others could to mountains, nor survive on so little in the drowned caverns.     "Suryū knew all of this, and when they were seen along the banks of her river, she acted.     "But she did not kill them like others did. She stalked, and she learned. And when breeding season came with the rains, she made her nest among the reeds, and she laid - sooner than anyone else."     A glint of silver caught the serpent's eye. Stretching her small, paddle-shaped wings, she adjusted the current passing over her, raised her head, bowed her neck, snapped, and struck. The fish was gone in an instant.     The little wyrm snatched at one far smaller. She rumbled in pride again.     "Suryū's eggs were small, and the water she breathed over them, warmed in her belly, was a puff rather than a jet. She knew they might well not survive with such treatment. But it was a calculated risk, and, ten days later, those small eggs, tangled in algae, did indeed hatch. The small, stiff little things were nothing like dragons, and jerked about in the water, tiny and helpless. They did not survive. They could not. They were nothing familiar, and were eaten by other clutches.     "Suryū tried again the following season, and though these grew bigger, they did not survive, either. Many were caught in fishing nets instead. But she did not tire." She turned her head, and peered at him a little closer with one great turquoise eye. "You, little dragon, are a product of much toil.     "It was in the seventh season that Suryū perfected her clutch, with hatchlings familiar enough to go uneaten, big enough to defend themselves, small enough to slip through nets, and fast enough to catch their own prey. This seventh clutch survived, and she passed her success on to the rest of us to follow her lead for the good of our kind. Many did not, believing we should not sully our lineage, that our 'kind' would not be our kind anymore. But there is a good reason that there are so many more of you today than there are of them.     "But the deception alone was still not enough. The waters were still not safe. River wyrms had been discovered, and our numbers shrank rapidly. This clutch still looked nothing like their mother, but how long would it be before the deception was discovered, and the puny, offended creatures imagined a new threat?     "So Suryū taught her hatchlings to weave wings of water and spider silk where their paddles should have been. She taught them to break through the water and move across its surface on six tiny legs. She taught them to fly, thrown up by small jets of water until those delicate wings took over. Then, one day, when they had learned all she could teach them, they perched on grass and reed and looked down at her through the water, and with a final bow of her great head, she sent them flying off downstream."     She chuckled once more. "You might well wonder. Why fly when it was the downfall of the other dragons? Because they, like you, were small enough to slip through nets. No arrow could hit them, and they cast no shadows when they flew. If eyes were looking in the water, far better to be above it.     "You will be too, one day. And when you do, my little dragonfly, make for the vast ocean. Lay and breed your young in the streams and rivers along the way, and tell them this story. And when you, or they, or their young, reach at last the endless sea, land yourself amid the rising coils of steam and bubbles." She closed her eyes and nudged him softly with her snout, humming softly into the current. "Our cousins await your return."

Words copyright © Kim Wedlock

No part is to be reproduced without my permission.

[dxrknessembr8ced]

8:10 A.M.

Emerge from the nest loud footsteps shook the ground only to reveal that Hsien-Ko has emerged now once more evolved into a far more ferocious monstrosity. Her lower torso appear to have gone quadrupedal with now large muscular feet resembling full of ten sharp toes in each toe, behind her back her spikes have also grown sharper and more ferocious looking at the end of her tail, the tip of her tail the grotesque face became far more human, perfectly human and appears to be a more grotesque version of her older sister, even has hair and glowing red eyes staring at her environment. Both shoulders of hers appear to have sharp bone spikes sticking out, the stomach appears to be glowing a yellow glow glowing through the war torn city. The chest is now covered by a sharp boney plate, her cheeks are now torn exposing thousands of sharp teeth powerful enough to tear through flesh, behind that talisman that is her sister a large third eye have emerge emitting such power along with everything else. Hsien-Ko even now possessed four long sleeved arms and her sister had created extra sleeves for her to adapt and adjust her combat styles thus twice the massive damage she'll inflict on her enemies and prey. Lastly she raised her massive body towering over those around her to show her total dominance all who are in her way.

' KKKRROOOOOMMMM!!! '

With the loud stomp of her feet grotesque wings made from her flesh and bone have appeared behind her back finally becoming what the cult of Las Erebus have foreseen before, their god have resurged into the sacred beast of the apocalypse.

" Let's go sis... "

{ " Right behind you... " }

The now monstrous jiangshi wandered into the zombie infested ruins of Metro city all alongside her beloved children for so much time she had given birth to not only to the seraphim but also brand new and far more destructive children, what they mistook as the angels of god. They all emerge through the hive flying into the sky alongside the first of the angels of Erebus. Numerous naked girls appearing to be the age of 14 with grotesque wings on their backs, they are all one individual separate themselves into multiple of them. They are Jerahmeel the angel of death, they represent death and rebirth to life as they dismember and kill all the undead, other bio organic weapons and even military forces dissolving them all into blood leaving behind only their clothes as they absorb the red liquid into their bodies for nutrients and also to create something beyond anyone's comprehension while they follow their mother through her journey into hell or worse as her children began to sing their song of the apocalypse, their display of expressing their mother's suffering through all the bloodshed and mayhem.

The second of the angels of the apocalypse Uriel the destructive one emerge through the building to reek havoc killing and just dismembered multiple B.O.W.s. and soldiers alike as he sang along with his brothers and sisters through the city of the damned. Left and right Uriel kept crushing and setting all in his path a blaze alongside his mother who he cherished with all his life without words for his actions speak louder.

" With every selfish choice you broke the seal, NO LONGER CONTAINED ! ! ! "

' KKRROOOOMM! '

The offspring smashed a military vehicle with only his spare hands killing both the driver and passengers inside.

" You are the key! You've conquered gods and machines now you set me free! It's Armageddon do you know my name?! "

The third of the angels, Gabriel the angel of silence appear above the skies alongside the seraphim around her as she slashes the entire concrete unleashing hallucinogenic spores that causes the survivors and the military to suffer hallucinations and then succumb to madness as she sings for her mother's wrath while forcing her victims to succumb to madness and killing them by violent dismemberment.

" You stand against THE END of all things space and time! You tore down the walls of the prison without care for what's inside! "

' KRRRSSSHHHH! '

' KKKRRRSSSHH! '

Grabriel once more slashes the ground this tine showering her true destructive power as the powerful tendrils whipping every organism on the ground emitting powerful energy setting the world beneath her to a hellish blaze and explosions.

" and inescapable force that I cannot be DENIED! like the countless before you consumed I'll leave NOTHING behind ! "

Lastly the fourth, Raguel the youngest and the angel of glutton swoop down from the skied consumed and hunted his pray as he gourge down the flesh and bones through that gapping hole that his mouth not even caring to sing only caring about what's to eat, not only is the creature is one of the youngest of these angels of death and destruction but also not the smartest out of the others. They mocked him for his low intelligence but not his mother, hence why his love for mother is undying, he will kill all who harm his mother like a bird snatching up it's prey. In both land and the skies he is the dominant predator.

The rest of Hsien-Ko's offspring continued to tear this city to the ground using all her strength and abilities setting it all down into smoke and fire as he unleashed her energy beam from her mouth decimating and kill all in her way.

' KRRROOOOSSSHH! '

Explosions and fires erupting from their path of destruction, as they continue to cleansed the entire city with righteous fury and extreme prejudice. This is all her fault and now? She's going to cleansed this city from her mistakes with the help of all her family.

[nathjonesey-75]

LV, NV - Part One

Reflecting upon an unearthly amount of sensory stimulation over the course of five days is a rarity. In particular, when the senses of the writer; at the beginning of those five days would have probably benefitted mostly from a damn good rest. So, when you agree to a free flight and hotel break in Las Vegas as a neurodivergent “sin city” virgin, it could be likened to a power surge in a region which already uses more electricity in ninety-six hours than a small country, in a week.

Nevertheless, if the bare bones of leaving a new home in the hands of a tempest, while travelling to a place which – it has to be concurred – must be experienced once in your life, even while northern Nevada is under a state of major emergency due to over twenty thousand acres of land being destroyed by fire; you know there is a story to tell. From prologue to real-time story, to the return – this long weekend may not have Bradley Cooper or Mike Tyson starring, but by the power of Grayskull – eventful, it was.

For full context, the prologue must be covered first – and not in a bleary memory recall type of way which is often associated with movies set in this modern metropolis. Leaving our little, insecure rescue dog so soon after recently losing her older canine partner in crime to old age and illness – was never going to be easy. Having only moved to a new home area ten weeks previously, finding a new, trustworthy dog-sitter would prove to be nerve-racking; and a test of faith. Not only a test of stranger’s ability with our remaining, beloved pup – but of how it indicated the future’s possible journeys away. As I write this on the return flight to London Heathrow – so far, so good. Let’s just hope the house isn’t bugged, missing valuables or holding a sinister surprise upon return. Wink-wink, nudge-nudge. Joking, honestly.

The other grey area of the prologue being the accumulative mental and physical exhaustion, after not only weeks of grief and sorrow – with the need of a truly relaxing holiday overhanging; but the break away having been a work-corporate arrangement, with my wife being grandly rewarded for her performance in the previous financial year of work. If I played a game of “what comes to your mind first?” – in the context of relaxing holidays, my answer would be more like a Greek island or possibly Cape Verde. Guaranteed sunshine, with a backwards pace of life. Vegas would more likely be in a League One relegation zone of locations to unwind, in my mind.

When the first day of the sensory overload weekend – Thursday – was in full swing, driving to Heathrow in heavy rain suggested more of an escape than at first thought. Yet, after boarding the Boeing 787 at 3pm-ish, the dismal skies above decreed it unsafe to have multiple take-offs and landings; thus delaying our departure by ninety minutes. On board, my phone hadn’t actually downloaded the thousands of tracks I’d thought were synchronised over the course of Wednesday evening, so my favourite thing of zoning out and listening to music was also ruled out. Throw in a narrow seat for a tall guy, inadequate service from cabin crew, another delay in landing in Vegas due to air traffic – plus even further delays to our shuttle taking us to the hotel – and an Oasis-Ticketmaster-like queue for checking in at the glamorous hotel – and it became a full twenty-four-hour day of being cattled around the world. In the words of many conscious people at many different points in history, “fuck that for a game of rectum scalding.”

Anyway, our habitation for the four nights was to be the reputedly most sought-after resort hotel in the global home of throwing money away. The Wynn-Encore International. Now, I had no preconceptions of Las Vegas, other than it being hot and seedy. While these were certainly unchallenged expectations, an education it all was. I can verify that it’s not somewhere I’d recommend my father visit – neither for temperature, nor tourist provisions. From my perspective, it was somewhere I could have maximised the stay – had the weekend’s timetable not have been structured in a haphazard way. Nonetheless, it was free and we did as much as we could.

The size of the city with these fixed plans in mind was one big surprise. Having been stuck at the airport eleven years ago, following a disastrous journey from Melbourne to Kansas City; where a cancelled connection flight from LA resulted in a five airport, thirty-two-hour journey – I’d then seen the famous strip from afar. My resulting idea of it was; that as a new city – its expanse would not be too great. Naïve, this proved to be. More than any western city I can imagine, you would really need to zoom in onto a map to actually see how many businesses are in one area – and even then, it wouldn’t be a shop-to-shop stroll between each one. Along with Google Maps’ unreliable journey planning - the distance between resort hotels and the more variable, interesting parts of Vegas became jagged. Monday, pre-return flight became the best time to visit the Arts District. Monday; when many of the businesses in that district were closed.

Ah, well. Rewinding back to the start of the intense block of days – a phrase which I’m very glad someone else in the work group highlighted about the vacation; “everything takes a while to do”. Having arrived on the Thursday the flight’s delay, the shuttle bus to the Wynn had to - you guessed it – wait for the final passengers. In true Nathan style, I rushed off the bus to try edging past other guests, to reach registration and quickly find a hunger-easing snack en route. The sheer, staggering quota of fruit machines where normal, non-Vegas hotels would possess a “lobby” – with the number of guests, made the effort slightly worthless. There was an air of science-fiction about the place – a 21st century upgraded Mos Eisley space station, in fact. You needed foreknowledge of where every required unit was, or a Skywalker land speeder to get from place to place quickly. So, divide and conquer. Mrs Jones can use her travel admin skills to check in at the desk; while Mr Jones would hunt for a shop containing snacks, while of course; avoiding paying a dreaded tip for simple advice in directions from any hotel staff. It took a while.

When we finally got to it, the room was exceptionally grand. Fifteen-foot drapes opened as we entered, with a panoramic view across one neon corner of the city; immediately throwing more childhood science fiction into my mind. “Holy shit, I’m in Biff’s Hotel in Back To The Future 2!” I blurted. As I was so drained from an already twenty-four-hour-day, plus the $9 total for snacks at the shop was not enough food for us – while I appreciated the room and view, we had to order a room service meal. Which took a while. In that time, I laid on the giant bed and flicked through channels on the larger-than-most hotel room television. What I found on national TV was not just spooky, but already memorable for the trip having just arrived. Back To The Future was just finishing; followed by (great Scott, this is heavy!) Back To The Future 2!

There was no way I would make it past the first half hour of the movie, as the food arrived around 10:10pm and though the waiter assembled an extra table by the panoramic window (which took a while) and the film was only a few minutes in by then; as expected – we smash-ate our meals, lights out and crashed for the night. Still, I managed to rotate the television in front of the window and took a photo of Biff in front of the Vegas skyline*.

Thankfully, upon waking the following morning, indeed each of the four days held a stunning, opulent sight. From the busy streets below to the rocky hills in the distance. As long as I zoned out from the gold-coloured, Biff-tainted pillar of a hotel on the right-hand side (which at this point won’t be named), it was all a sight to behold. With each different cloud or natural light arrangement, whether clear blue skies, moody, unpredictable cumulus or a combination of both – there was a sense of “anything could happen here”, from that view alone.

*For those, unprivileged to have grown up with Spielberg’s sci-fi time travel trilogy, Biff’s evil character in that particular film – and his trashy empire of greed which turned the town of Hill Valley into a crime-riddled nefarious alter-ego of the original town – was based on Donald Trump and his hotel. The scene which shows the alternate 2015 from the 27th floor of that hotel, looking down onto the street was a view almost identical to the one from our room, on the 30th floor. Minus the burnt-out cars and street alcoholics, of course!

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

6th August >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Feast of The Transfiguration of the Lord

(Liturgical Colour: White. Year: B(II))

(When a Feast of the Lord is celebrated on a weekday there is only one reading before the Gospel, which may be chosen from either the first or second reading)

Either:

First Reading Daniel 7:9-10,13-14 His robe was white as snow.

As I watched:

Thrones were set in place and one of great age took his seat. His robe was white as snow, the hair of his head as pure as wool. His throne was a blaze of flames, its wheels were a burning fire. A stream of fire poured out, issuing from his presence. A thousand thousand waited on him, ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him. A court was held and the books were opened.

I gazed into the visions of the night.

And I saw, coming on the clouds of heaven, one like a son of man. He came to the one of great age and was led into his presence. On him was conferred sovereignty, glory and kingship, and men of all peoples, nations and languages became his servants. His sovereignty is an eternal sovereignty which shall never pass away, nor will his empire ever be destroyed.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading 2 Peter 1:16-19 We heard this ourselves, spoken from heaven.

It was not any cleverly invented myths that we were repeating when we brought you the knowledge of the power and the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ; we had seen his majesty for ourselves. He was honoured and glorified by God the Father, when the Sublime Glory itself spoke to him and said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; he enjoys my favour.’ We heard this ourselves, spoken from heaven, when we were with him on the holy mountain. So we have confirmation of what was said in prophecies; and you will be right to depend on prophecy and take it as a lamp for lighting a way through the dark until the dawn comes and the morning star rises in your minds.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 96(97):1-2,5-6,9

R/ The Lord is king, most high above all the earth.

The Lord is king, let earth rejoice, let all the coastlands be glad. Cloud and darkness are his raiment; his throne, justice and right.

R/ The Lord is king, most high above all the earth.

The mountains melt like wax before the Lord of all the earth. The skies proclaim his justice; all peoples see his glory.

R/ The Lord is king, most high above all the earth.

For you indeed are the Lord most high above all the earth, exalted far above all spirits.

R/ The Lord is king, most high above all the earth.

(When a Feast of the Lord falls on a weekday, there is no reading after the Psalm and before the Gospel)

Gospel Acclamation Matthew 17:5

Alleluia, alleluia! This is my Son, the Beloved: he enjoys my favour. Listen to him. Alleluia!

Gospel Mark 9:2-10 This is my Son, the Beloved.

Jesus took with him Peter and James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. There in their presence he was transfigured: his clothes became dazzlingly white, whiter than any earthly bleacher could make them. Elijah appeared to them with Moses; and they were talking with Jesus. Then Peter spoke to Jesus: ‘Rabbi,’ he said ‘it is wonderful for us to be here; so let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say; they were so frightened. And a cloud came, covering them in shadow; and there came a voice from the cloud, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.’ Then suddenly, when they looked round, they saw no one with them any more but only Jesus. As they came down from the mountain he warned them to tell no one what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They observed the warning faithfully, though among themselves they discussed what ‘rising from the dead’ could mean.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[cybermoonmoon]

From my COVID Journals.

Emerald City. June 4th, 2020, Four years ago today.

Day 80.

We're under both Virus Lockdown, and because of the police murder of George Floyd a Civil Disorder Curfew. Arrest if out after Curfew, 8pm-5am. Many patrolling choppers overhead. Subways and buses will run only for Essential workers.

The whole City is in Curfew.

Despite this some parts of town have more protests than others. Downtown and my 'hood, and various points in Manhattan. It's just after 10pm now. Curfew has been in force since eight. If you're in the City stay in... they 'will' arrest, if you're not an essential worker. I've seen this happen from my windows. Image above is around my corner in what used to be rush hour here in Brooklyn.

If these were normal times a lot of us including me would present ourselves at hospitals for the works. Basically, everything physical, and emotional is fucked up, and broken for near everyone.

My assorted co-morbidities as it's put these days are in the red, and have been for over a month. I'll let you imagine the details since many of you have the same things. Also my disposition of being personally clean, and tidy went out the window a while ago.

As I enjoy saying Queers are genetically engineered by nature to be tidy. We can also cook do art have a good fashion sense, and are too smart for our own good.

I feel like hell.

That, and the world as we knew it is rapidly ending all around us. This time I don't think we go back to exactly the way it was. No matter how delusionally our head of state wants it. I read that the higher ranks of the military including the former head of the Joints Chiefs and Commandant of the bleeping Marine Corps is finally letting loose on #45.

Also the current Secretary of the Army is not sure it's a good idea to inflict the regular armed forces on the American people. Which is to say "...Dominate them" as our head of state insists. Seems the Constitution has stuff to say about specifically that.

Serious religious leaders are less than jolly that our head of state has been using historic places of worship for disturbed photo-ops. Especially when using military police forces to violently clear demonstrators out of the way.

Then there's the Virus...the one that just killed over 100,000 people in this republic. ...remember that? It's still here, and as infectious as it was the first day.

That Second Wave is going to be fucking Hell. Just like the second wave of the 1918 Pandemic was.

What with information poor violent, and heavily armed anti-lockdown fans spreading it everywhere. Them, and young folks bored with quarantine and thinking they're immortal...didn't we all when kids. These folks are going clubbing to the parks, amusement grounds, and the beach.

Now many tens of thousands are exposing themselves each other, and their families. This also in the waves of demonstrations in all 50 States. As part of our re-ignited Race War.

Since the plague is clearly over my landlord is sending contractors to fix my bathroom. I have extra masks if needed. *(When they came they were wearing homemade Hazmat outfits...smart.)

Did I cover everything?

Well, the Pentagon just reminded us that UFO's are real. The second time they did this. They admit them things have been generally hanging around and buzzing their bases and aircraft carriers for years. But still say they don't know what they are. ...yeah right.

"Watch the Skies!"

(Reference to a classic S/F flick.)

Anyway I took my first hot shower in three days, and I need to shop for food. I finally ran through my pantry bunker of canned goods.

Speaking of Bunkers.

Our head of state, and his pals are in the middle of re-writing history. ...again. This about the secret service stuffing him into the White House Nuke Bunker during the protests.

As in 1984 there's a major re-write in progress. Seems he was not cowering, but out, and about heroically surveying the damage done by terrorist liberals, old pacifists and assorted troublemakers.

Update

*(The virus is still with us in 2024. This in cases of 'Long Covid'. Tho' much subdued for most since the vaccines and common-sense precautions. Trump is still here and the same. Tho' convicted of 39 felonies and awaiting sentencing. Btw more trials to come. He's also running for president...again. This after his 2021 attempted coup and violent transfer of power to stay in office when voted out. One of his coming trials will be about that. UFOs are still with us but mostly stay out of our hair. They seem more interested in Asia these days. The Chinese air force shooting at them. ...good luck.

As of June 2024. One Million+ people in this republic have died of Covid. Five times what we lost in WW2. 10's of millions around the world. Yet here we have willfully forgotten anything happened like we did with the 1918 Pandemic.)

Stay tuned.

[libidomechanica]

“For shade to shade will coin young Cupids”

A ballad sequence

               I

Himself thrice in the act of love.     And honour, if ye will. Or like not of the pan I scrub     and burn, and here and every

tree does shed its fruit. For shade     to shade will coin young Cupids. But O the heavens fall in     a gentle rain, when they

say she’s coming home the train as     it leaves the mouths of men. Beauties budde, reliuen not for themselfe,     but form and only

wake with yours in the Light of Lights     forever.—I’ll write whatever feeling of thy swinck, that     with such a rare carnation

grew. Into the day, and which     cloys, for the sword and for his gray shadow, he pursues! And     even those people roll

by in the mouth. One of those sweets     that dwell in my delicious meat is to the man. Once more     among the rest—turning

from the golden Morpheus in silence     of that which slays even more—the death, no, not the praise,     phoebus replied, Your blood

should die: till out of long frustration     of an Alien Name I shadow One upon whose     toppe the stars, and then decide,

without love’s flame. So now his     frend is chaunged for darting it. By this Leander sitting     under the other

Sestos here who on Love’s seas more     glorious eyes watch our close ivy-twines; there I’ll behold     thy bared snow and thy

tears, so long as I have above!     Learnt our meaning to be venged for a frenne. Of haggard     seeming, but effectually

is out; for it no form     delivers to the water from moats and how the strangers shelt’ring     from the blue skies derived

a double light in air and     sinless child of sin; but closed in Stygian     Three April perfumes there.

               II

They fed her that their cups with tears!     And once she stayed, and wound wherewith they bring that great     elixir to thy hive. Some

have wronged it, sought far less for loss     of tickets, or codille; spleen, vapours, or smallpox, above     the team hotel, the

moon shall shine upon, lulled a sleepe     through, and you in Grecian dame, that is tame, and but at other     eyes serue him with

deluging storm. But Time, which down her     prayse, but into weeping for thy prey: the name of murdrer     now on thy faire forehead

sitteth, and euen while I meditate     the thankless Muse? We kissed her and Juan thought, be torn. I     learnd a lesson derely

bought that nys on earth assuraunce     to be Nature’s own hand painting fools, yet is, whate’er     may seem good to the hills

bene nigher heuen, and them did     saue with blazing still would I give for thee. The old world grows     dull, and long, long deserts

scorch the camel is to pass, than     this I would that I were dead! Of all his bearded Victor     of ten-thousand men, who

looked at her, and live with softest     downy breasts, have passions brought the past still we moved together.     To spare, blinded alike

from sunshine and from the Queen’s     decease she brought her falling, yet was honest meaning truly,     and nothing at all

how I love thee in such sort as,     thou being mine, mine is thy good report. But hear that she     wile your fancy frae me,

for fear of seeming rather touch’d     earthly faces. To keep them warm until they read: till she     not fair began to give

or keep, to live alone among     her women; certain, would say, leander, thou art the fair     young hearts bleeding wound

Leander to display both in each     other spy. As we. Tho’ father an’ a’ should gae mad, o     whistle, an’ I’ll come to

bid them hither cast their bells and     flowers, and there, all wild to found an University     for maidens, on the springs.

Not always snarling, that taste     is gone. A trentall sung by virgins o’er the shadow of     the poet is whirl’d into

fonts met in thee, and from out     a rill, a nymph and her small goodman shrinks in his grave, yet     not mine; yet mine in part.

               III

The boy beside me is not you a mightier     way make war upon the carpet lies: such heavenly path with many a curious     dint that runs along his back, but my rude pen can hardly blazon forth the greate shepehearde     his daughters in the second protest and sweet soul, had hardly stew a child; has ev’n     been prov’d to grant a lover sure might

you see the rudest or gentlest sight, the seed     of gods, but a boon indeed: the harper came, and last, to follies youth could scarce dare     hyena foemen, and live with fluttering about the bed there sighing and kissing so     close; by their praying in dumb orat’ries, along the most exalted, Charity, are     saving—vice spares nothing happens next

because we were lowe, and like a broken purpose,     will in me to infuse my tale of love in the white; nor waves the mouth. And she becomes     a wayward love, where haue you seene the iawes of hellish Ielousie! And state, perforce, from     the crevice peer’d about. And still, save that time do I ensconce me here within their meaning     truly, and not unto myself

again, and the white rose is a dove. Of his sister     Jane; in bed she moaning lay, till in his twining haze, sees full before her in a     hurry, without marble or a name as fruitless as amber, translucent as the currant     on the beare when it strives to polish all it can its last best work, but for ever.     Then came these? Can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s

starling; why then I’ll swear, as poet Wordy swore     because the waiting my bonnet but to them, at least appearing sun, as if their laws,     command me fight with rivals or with emulous loves there took his restrained, the world’s dust,     their lutes did silent was to end: then all for languor leapt a cry; leapt fiery Passion     from their light for ever, till she

feared that I were dead! I sing too as womanly     as can the best can mingle and express when two dewdrops on the spur she fled, and,     subtly sifting on all sides, so plied interrogation till it hit the Northern hills.     Vessels of brass, oft handled, bright, and made myself the shame among us, learnt, in days     far-off, on that bed; she comes back safe

ride with us to our lines, and unobserv’d the     glaring orb declines. Panted from heaven find: but from the lark shot up and showers be     still a-falling, yet was honest man that ever sweet was used in giving gentle day     doth follow night, whose prayers for the shades o’ dawn are fled, in a’ its crimson soul lambent     flames; purple passions brought, o

carefull verse. As through loues misgouernaunce. And asked him     what went wrong. Ae e’ening on a rustic, woodland reels athwart the gloomy shades, cloudy,     dark, o’ercast with dim and darksome shade, nature, gladdening and adore: not for thee, each     morn and evening, wherewith disturb’d, she utter’d a soft moan: to wake into a     slumberous tenderness—too hard, too cruell.

               IV

Your captive, yet my father’s will.     Down in the porch of Death as doome of ill desert: but knewe     we fooles, what it doth

latch: of his quench’d heart; and they that     level at my abuses reckon up their owne woe; so     ample eares as neuer

good newes know: is it not     euill that day I e’er had loved before i’ll kiss the threshold,     he, or hand in low coral

groves sweet singing in the wild-     briar fair? This desolation: few would be queen for life.     From heaven to wear! Hard

by a poplar grove where I lie,     and we close shrowded in thys shade alone. What is your sex     a tyrant o’er itself.

Dost not bite so nigh as make away     my doubt, while he forth from his dungeon stray’d; the air was     calm, and on the earth in

the shy touch of hands; true love’s coming,     that came in Neptune’s plea. Others, because known, nor     less divine: Love’s inmost

sacredness called to him, and smile     as thou dost, good! So on she goes and inflames objects to     his beauty had he been.

               V

As not to let thy nature it     concealed leander’s eyes. But when she sang:-she would catch her hand     in mine. Full of all beauties

flow? Within the realme of Loue,     and yet at every stroke, betwixt the rich Ocean for gifts     he flies. Come forth, sweet kisse!

               VI

From four winged horses dark, that practice     better at the foremost, who had fallen, with a little     child of one unworthily;

their sighing and kissing     so close. As after noon, one summer’s front doth sing and stops     her pinion, and twincling

starres bene so trimly dight,     I pray thee Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete? Which perhaps     he mixt with flowers, than

what they seem’d to grow. Proud as a     peeress, prouder as a punk; chaste to wreak vengeance on him     her flashing eyes a moment

of that which governs me to     go about doth part his function and with feare, but with thy     Gotes should know my swain,

innumerable rose, beat balm     upon our eyelids close, and spake to him who under other     Name taught us to

veil a noble tear; and up we     came to where a double light in air and sinless faith, a     maiden Queen guarded by

an unseen hand at a game that     pulls or shakes it from the court the shores of keen delight to     be accounted nice. And

bathe in gold the misty dale, and     fly with me as tho’ that ye car’d na a flie; but steal me     a blink o’ your bonie black

e’e, yet look as ye were na comin’     to me, and come, for lover who could avenge, if cause     should fall; and like a touch

of hands; true love, or to be loved,     truest friend, at no man knows. And never to the hills. You     have done the things I do.

Became her golden reign. Till one     of those fair plants, which the Last sole Agent is in this poem,     There are the gems of

the plumb beat adamant as weeds.     Calliope speede her to be sent with it, Follow, follow,     thou wilt renew the

beat of his quench’d heart; and the tortoise     crawls; troops of untended horses; here and the garden,     taste the ripened ears, we

fell out, my wife and I, o we     fell out I know not, cannot guess how much the fury still     out of reach, yet never

out of fear; for love, yet, love, for     pity sake, me in thy bed and die let’s give a new nod     to nothing was denied.

               VII

His arms might be better dayes death     hath shut vp in woe? Whom universal nature did lament,     when by the countless gold of thy door. Once more ye myrtles     shall be as thou dost love me. Las that I am     forst such euill of thee

to say: I say thou art! The torrent     dance thee down to find three perfection every way. To     see thee, Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine. Catch,     ere she change that sober hue deuise, in obiect best to knitt     and strength; the more she strived,

the wakened by the sea-     shore, whereon was many a sigh; let us away, my     love, without attaint o’erlook the dedicated words which     writers use of their exchanging glances at my father     sent ambassadors with

furs and jewels, gifts, to fetch a lasse,     whose home is in this maid I love, and silence the heat more     by provocation bites. The submissive ground; so he that     does not know ye: alas! Said: I have a sister and my     brother ran in his rage

to the churchyard laid then ye are     only five. And kissed again with tears. To dazzle let the     top. She, with a bootless calf at eight years old, she said, I     am aweary, aweary, I would catch her hand in     wild delirium, gripe

it hard, and fling it like a mermaid     in sea-weed, all garlanded with pearl, and in his fame     the hero-boy, who lived too long should an hour come to bid     them hither cast their bellies’ sake creep and intrude, and climb     into the workman and

his will a cheat. By this a murmur     ran through your marvelousness. Which so prevailed, as he     spake, upon the floor she slid. Offer went beyond, they knew     t was fresh—for he had lately used the lock—and next proceeds,     and boldly ventured

on the rose-briar is sweet; myriads     of rivulets hurrying through thee, indeed I think     our chiefest Nymph of al, of Oliue braunches seare: the faded     lockes fall from yours, within whose least act abides the nameless     lie beneath his Feet.

               VIII

In laurel: her we asked of that     hue; blue as the submissive ground; thou seëst all this comes down     which they would learn it, were

more the trumpet round him; Juan, t     is—tis Lambro—’t is my father! But shaken here and     the sad wound, and breast

maternal wean’d at once withdrew his     weapon, and replaced it; but stood still, save that he fled; they     say your stockings there I

hem; and then he chewed the thrice-turned     cud of wrath, and cooked his spleen, communing with a wondering     looked as grand as doomsday

and as grave: and he, he     reverence up, and are not worth a little change in the logic     of a life? She goes

out to hang the pensive awhile     she dreams awake, and steal; I know it, and himself: then from     the dewy shoulder half

cut through thee, indeed I love: the     new day comes, the light and dark squares feel like tiles for any     man to go: but as his

brain began to burn, for so it     seemed to move among the depths of passionate desire!     Her babbling wells with her

destiny; but she defied all     means they could not be absent long; and old Damætas lov’d to     hear our son, if this be

so, the mother; for wearing as     they were: the power. Haze, sees full before you like none, none     you, for constantly? Was

endowed when first I wanted of     life, for it was not last year at the foreign place; and strange     sensation which she must

partake perforce swayed to her doating     spark, sighs for a daughter of the liberties. By     measuring the intensity

of blue: ’ o, Lady Daphne!     Or foxlike in the sky. Especially when added to     the vales and bid them hither

cast their bellies’ sake creep and     intrude, and climb into the boxed-in hills beyond the truth,     the truth! Love, from Clarinda,

friendships’ guarded guise, for more     the old Sunday evenings at home, an English home, and tuned     it vnto the Waters fall.

Even Time the pit. He rode the     melodie that’s sweetly quickens when tis by that alone she     can be bequeathed to none.

               IX

Ye’ll slip frae me like a king: three     days he feasted us, and on the east are circumfused     there. The air was calm,

and on the rainbow of the two,     according to your eyes are bull, your mound! Floats up from those     dim fields about the homes

of happy hours, and makes one little     grave, o there above the garden darkens. Because it     wasn’t talking about on

a train he knows I cannot force     love as you do. Ah, Chloris, that myrth thee made of yore. No,     no, go not to Lethe, neither

moved nor wept. A cry for a     brother John and I. A simple child … that light be my leading     star! Through a lowly

arched way, there was no reason why     such agonies should be above, and with sacred ring where     the ground with gallant

institutes, and binds her sultry horn,     batt’ning our flocks with the rest; where can we find two better     hemispheres, with wild

thyme and therefore on him who under     other Name taught us to veil the Praises of a     Power to which there brake

on all sides, clamouring etiquette     to death, unmeasured mirth; while now the two only     darts of Loue, now will I

attempt to know what no her tongue     to say what was left of faded woman-slough to sheathing     stars who, where they decked her

fast and thereby committ’st a sin     far worse of constant stars, in them their native East. Bring hether     thee list the loued lasse

forlorn and lost with sick unpruned     wing. Her breath as fragrant too, a stratagem, that proue?     And damns me for that act.

               X

Yet some of you are free: meantime     the frosty dark; and as the sun and stars are nearer that     he had, a Mirror, like

the bounds of shame; my eyes caught light     from your sight—not to cost you a tear: but if you be that     Ida whom I knew, I

ask you nothing? But sucked on country     comets, that portend no war nor prince’s funeral,     shining unto no higher

end than to presage the gray-     fly winds her down for his love Europa bellowing loud,     and many an islander

with her dream so pure and deep     one unbecoming thoughts would be to each his thunder, rain     and whole; nor Arac, satiate

with his Grace and clip my willing     body, and the lips part and say: I mean to go on     living? Of that which will

blot? This idol which you neither     change of place maintaining that is falling into blood and     fire, the danger is less

than fame, may rue the bargain ye     wad buy; but an ye be crafty, I am cunnin’, sae     ye wi anither you

will not come. And true plain words by     thy true-telling friend; and there the fiercest attention becomes     a Virgin bright; then

he arose, and arrow-straight, his     fierce beams struck my brow; the soul of Ida fell, and showed the     rough ways of flurrying is

my inner recesses surfacing     paints the bedroom blue because she took more from hence your     life we love a sister

at their cups with teares besprint.     Will sink where lies stellas faire haire; her face doth look, and grasp’d,     and ran, but it was rich.

               XI

And then he got him to a rock     and under your wine, in autumn. Pardon me saying it     were much better than they

have devised what strain I heard was     of a higher mood. Tis well—but, artists! And on the edge     like to the tree cut from

its pedestal with many a     churlish billow, and the little lintwhite’s nest; and frost     will blight the Baron dreamt

of many a woe, a cloth of     woven crimson, gold, and both together both, ere the highway     too black for the past.

               XII

On Helen’s cheek or ear. With Cyril     and with his awkwardly, and foul contagion spread; besides     what the cooling river’s

crescent-curve, close at the quiet     woodland ways, where paced the scouts with rumour of Prince Arab     hard at hand. Why, there

are no other Prophets than The     Wise. That night into the wall snatch’d down his weary feet and     felt my veins stretch with fire

the trade of love; the fierce triumvirs;     and before her father cease to move in old memorial:     I fenced it round within

his clasp, twixt her and breast     maternal wean’d at once or twice, the ear becomes a bleed. The     base of all: the rusted

nails fell from time to go about     doth part his function and with a dissipated life, and     simple was the flood than

she left: she shall not be thy defect,     and delights to lose itself when the only minstrel     be, proscribed from the thing

need not set your thought I traced something     down in a bed that nigh expell’d innumerable     of stains and on flowers.

               XIII

Will crush her pretty maids in the     pool; for none, his glance inquired of hers your kinder mistress     are at strife. To know

a sweeter music than the creamy     curd, or on the world, if Queens and kings. From your kinder     mistress are at strife. Her

own grand way: being herself three     times a gleam of dewy- tasselled trees: what neede hem caren     for the bass, the beast

can only bellow; in fact, he     had no pulse, but death seem’d absent still; no hideous sign     proclaim’d her surely die.

               XIV

” Answered nothing else but anger.     The patient angel waiting for his sake, to be revenged     on Jove did undertake. Lovers fled away into     the present; i’m sensible

redundancy is wrong, but     could not love it all; I could not love it all; I could never     tell the ground he laid and, tumbling and sounding beauteous     springs the crowning race

of humankind. To say: back rode     we to my father, Tut, you know, who wedded with a milder     ray, like summer night, her matchless fair, at kirk or market     to be sent with it,

Follow, follow, thou shalt have a     trentall sung by virgins might have lost their hooks, fit baits for     ever.—Nature in her left hand, hammer in her e’e, as     Robie tauld a tale o’

love: o Jeanie fair, I lo’e thee     dear; o canst thou think to fancy i have deemed with you, my     most true mind thus makes mine eye well knows what with equal     husbandry the woman were

an equal share. Heaven descend     above the arias of death and love will never hear.     ’ Dreams, the sweet heaven, either not a whit made purple glens     replying: blow, bugle,

blow, set the wild-briar fair? Where     all summer: lightnings that being caught feign death, spoke not, nor     stopp’d to meet her glance nor grasp, for still she railed against us     and within private

arms empale free woman.     Directed all, and in his pride, and doth first begin. An open-     hearted, the night is Cupid’s golden head, and thunder.     Intelligence—First of

a Chain of Ten Intelligence—     First of all. On the green and village-cotted hill, is the     tumulus—of whom? So their fair subject, blessing every     bad a perfect animal,

the two-celled heart become so     sympathetic, that I must have recourse to black Bohea:     tis pity wine should be so,—but—it cannot be but some     vile tongues to be your being

shall make ye flourish all the     past to mind; and when thou alone kingdoms meek of joy and     pain; yet wist na what her ail might bring.—With nothing such to     the wall in time to dye.

               XV

While new emotions, like stranger’s     ill; not I have never a word to say. The females stood,     and ever-changing

invocation grew. Characters at     all. Of smooth-kissing breath, in the realme of Loue, now will I,     alas, refraine; loue feares

nothing more timely, nothing     like one! And oftentime great clymbers fall vnsoft. You out the     prease of those fierce triumvirs;

and before the rough ways of the     sun in a diameter fires and the rank mist they draw,     rot inwardly do prate.

               XVI

The horror of the liberties.     Are all thy lights, and cold, and said no and the loud roar grew,     and none beside. And drooping

rich the dews of night, blot out     the Agèd Host, a beggar at another rage; and when     they should lay, the while upon

a hillock down he lay and     sweetest buds doth love, and with a bough of wilding in his     neighbour than his fate—he

felt himself most nigh it, like to     her breast, can mark the fate which sin, kiss and shake the daunce, and     Cyril whisper its last

best work, but for one hour more in     Heav’n expect thy meed. And them, like Mars and Erycine, display     terror to earth, and

tempest came her golden reign. Me     or float or sink, be high or low. ’ At which she must partake     perforce, at last, as shepherd’s

trade, and lyeth buryed long in     Winters bale: yet soone as spring holiday. Which in our     hands. Was used in giving

gentle day doth follow night, we     could tell; my passion to create, as where the ground was white     with snow and I could ill

confine; I looked as grand as doomsday     and as grave: and he, he reverence up, and are not     at all: in vain to the

vast uplandish country dwelt. The     white rosebud with a flush on its petal tips; for the slave     market of Constantinople.

And what is Algrin he,     that is the grace and proscenium of her face: she linger’d     still. A hundred thousand

groans, but thinking to haul up and     swig! Young Juan and Haidee clung around her grave as her image     in marble fonts; there

grain, and close beside her and to     me she said; she said I am aweary, aweary     I would you had her, Prince;

you cannot love it enough. The     monstrous ledges there stood as one ashamed, wherewith the     Soul inspir’d and all his

loue doth scorne: he plonged in payne,     his tressed locks dooth teare. Will storm his heart re-sent; and he     had our daughter and his

will a cheat. A certain portrait     may I grant be seen, the little grave, to see them, that may     delight. As others use,

to sport with Amaryllis in     the noblest seats of those two tralucent cisterns brake a     stream of liquid pearl, which

did thy Rosalind hath so little     door, old Angela was feeling but by other drest     with temper, whose light the

Baron dreamt of many mortal     taint. With their rank though hate had put them out: numb were the river     among the bush had

ne’er a lighter heart when Chloe     dies. She goes out to hang the pensive head, and     Than public manners breeds.

               XVII

My bonnet but to tie, and clos’d     her up, as in a snare: which every bough and sweet self, or     pines in sad experience,

this; by man’s oppression was     the sallow sand, sends forth a rattling murmur to the     literary rabble:

whether doth my mind, and many     an oath, arcades ambo, ’ id est—blackguards both. Girls     are we; two of us

in the Rose—and I myself to     cherish. Come then, dear friend, and touching her breast, a greater     fon, that loues the things to

hit, for true no-meaning puzzles     more than for the destiny he heard the night, your glorious     in his armour braue.

Eyes aghast against the Princesse     bene principall. Can you well compare? Afflicted by     my kindness, they leave me

with my verse; do now your flowery     levels underneath their pride, weakness somehow shapes the     shade, or with the White yfere,

in either change of place     maintaining that indefatigable Pen in celebration     of love’s great master,

Aretine, and Syluanes haunten     rathe. Once over again, and flowers and all the past     melts mist-like into thy

glory, I thought a king a king;     he cared not for the hinny he’ll cherish the bee, my laddie’s     sae meikle in luve

wi’ the silly rose-wreath now and     deck thee with the weedes be glutted. And Pity fell on     his Eyes, and soul! But when

they have treated him as something     she spoke I fear they will take up that heard not out the world     shall grow, while the sun in

a diameter fires and the     tip of evolution, modestly shining. They may ache     in icy hoods and mails.

               XVIII

Or pines in sad experience worse than South-sea-     isle taboo, dwarfs of the hills—teenagers in love he is in love he is a flower     as May never bore. Say: I say thou art; I said they were: the power of fervent kisses     from Nubia brought it, and smite no more: as hags hold sabbaths, less for thee. That thou art     as fair in face, of temper amorous

play. And while I kiss thy garment’s hem with your     looks, your imprimatur’ will ye not annex? My manhood is cast down in the fire of     a foolish fashion’d all that there was a lass, and she was hot and generous and so     the least that to the fair vermilion knew, and saved my old body from the town and half     house; but scarce would bring; though sleeping, vseth.

Or wanders here; the sun and moon renew thy beauty,     like a throbbing star came furrowing all the Quarters of the loom; and there among     piled arms and your great court-Galen poised his gilt-head cane, and pawed about the prease of those     who have ceased to hear his tale, left off her running. The gynaeceum, fail so far in high     deserts? Boasting his parentage, and

recollection; on her foot she hung a moment,     and thinner, clearer, farther going! There are the dancers; there’s the pity, with gossip,     scandal, and spite; and Jack on his arm, and to the yellow leaf, ’ and Imagination     and mine—where she lies, but will not come, she said, betwixt the right color is invisible,     only movement, he withdrew.

               XIX

Kept walking. As not to love, or to be lov’d.     Committing heady riots, incest, rapes. Will sink where lies the swan. Tried in vain paining with     its synonym. And to some corner secretly have gone, let maps to other, wine from     grapes out wrung. What two come here to fade and pine. Or in this eternal thirst is flowing,     and sigh, I can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s

starling; why then I’ll swear, as poet Wordy swore     because the publisher declares, in sooth, through the bills. And almost think that idiot     legend credible. Of Things of the lake doth glitter the green that it might mount the Throne.     Thine eyes were spiritual and clear: and things that precede the mighty storm; in the endgame     of her cheeks, with his own avenger.

               XX

One daye he sat vpon a hyll, as     now thou wouldest me: but I am tought by pachas, some     by Jews, how some were bought

to keep her back; and either seemed     it strange song I heard Apollo sing, while Ilion like a     mission’d spirit, unaware:

came many a token without     a groan, or sigh, or glanced about the causes weighed,     fatherly fears—you used us

courteous lights in show the     duller eyes through the soundest rest. You may vow I’ll not forget     to pay the debt which

th’ angry gods had fasten’d     with you too. True love’s channel, where it shall fall so woful,     and of such deep sorrowing

in my heart receive this lock     which our olives failed; seldom she spoke I fear they will bring     forth sweet water oft her

hand; in touching the gasping     furrowes thirst with Reason, which perish in the wood gods love     to hide, affection of

the glen at wintry dawn, where o’er     the beauty of your chance almost at naked nothing upon     earth more miserable

night; but sorrow seize me if ever     that lightly my beauty morn by morn; I earth in earth     my Emma lay; and now

to see thy foolish boy, that is     the best. But tougher, heavier, stronger, he that smote and     threw warm gules on

Madeline began to weep, and kye,     and wanton winds, what hard mishap hath doom’d this general evil     they maintain, all men

are bad, and in it catch, ere she     change that sober hue deuise, in obiect best to knitt and strength;     a daintier iudge applies

his praise the thought. Through needles’ eyes     it easier for the bass, the beast can only bellow;     in fact, he had no pere:

so well she couth the ship soon, because     of both sides I doe take my blood from them runs headlong     to the brim, wakes me next

morning in the present; i’m     sensible redundancy is wrong, but could not do—the pillow     glowed and glowed both roof

and floor, and birds sang sweet influence     reigned; and ever afresh they seem when the glassy darkness     greeted by a doubtful

curls, and thee! That burning core,     though I, once gone, to all the ground he laid and, when the lily     lies o’ercharged with

them for the field-mice are abroad,     he cannot be—or I at least, or a Protestant parson,     or Catholic priest, to

instruct those after us: this     we were, this is all; she will die from want of care, or sicken     with his flaring glass.

               XXI

And up we came to where he stood     as one ashamed, wherewith she strooken, so at her toilet’s     greasy task, with Sappho

fragrant at an ev’ning bright     toward heav’n’s descent had slop’d his western bower. Moses was,     that sing, whose earliest

beat still the wide stairs a darkling     way they will; disdains all loss of your eyes gave me love, and     felt the blinding bandage

from his eyes grew brilliant, a gang     war wrapped&cut diagonal at the shearers’ feast and shove     away the parasitic

forms that seeldome falls bynethe.     The trumpet, and again vowed spotless chastity, whom Nature     made her chief worke, Stellas

eyes, in colour blacke why wrapt     she beames so bright? I rode beside him swim, and talk of     love, the horror of the

day or night, and the towers have     gone to sea. Oft have I to do with me remain without     thy help by me be borne,

and never knew my father that     our companion was a Romagnole, but facts are facts:     no knight could be; yet maiden-

meek I prayed concealment: she     demanded who we were, and round about the bed alone.     Here han the fleece, and eke

the fleshly follyes vndefyled,     and grey hairs were buoyant spirits, never bound with swimming     looks of speech about your

Mistress, but about the acacias,     and a bird, that each passion to us. With clamour:     for among them all: a

common lose the childlike in the     very brother with Latonaes seede, such follie great sorow     to Niobe did breede. ’Er you

do, fight and fight with passion to     create, as where their children of despair with laughter; what’s     to come is still together

deep in woods, unseen as sings     the night to name my desires, when happiness? In such     wars women use, or thirsting

after her a letter sent,     which joyful Hero answered sharply crystalline fragments     of many a woe, for

I am slow and feeble, faint,     and the fatigue is flowing, that als we mought be, simple,     as simple rustic love.

               XXII

Than when two dewdrops on the babe     restored. As those who served; she gave no very satisfactory     information

about his lip, to prick us     on to combat for my own; his mother. No Angel, but     a dearer being, and

the white of Pelop’s shoulders of     the king of gods and mails. How can my nature says: My children     still, and caught her up.

               XXIII

To plunge in cataract on an     island-crag, when storm is on the siller, he canna hae     luve to spare, whose heart had brooded, all that beat about a     glimmering threshold of

the morning dew. Lest I lose all.     And magnify, and catch them to be thus was another     Phaeton had got the guidance of the dead and rites were injured.     The woman through their

chief art in reigne dissembling is.     Not marble, nor can integrity our ends promove: for     Kings and Lovers are alike in this that leaped into hell,     and sing a song to the

after party? Echoing inside     my head, it scents the early grave which men delight? Objects     having too much quickness ever to be hated. Which     in my thought, a touch, did

she uphold to Venus, and against     the tax; behind, and so our souls, that loved us. If     in the council broke, I rose and fell, and all the Truth God     only can be caught with

such halcyon calmness fix our     souls, that love is a factory. A table, and, half anguish’d,     threw thereon came many a bore, and haggard seeming,     but effectually is

out; for it no form delivers     to the appointed hour. The cattle are grazing, their heads     the cornice rests, with hair of glitterand gold, mought them shend:     they bene to heauen hent.

               XXIV

Provoked remarks which now it shan’t.     Rough Satyrs danc’d, and Fauns with clov’n heel, from them heard something;     then looked. Oh my bodhisattva of new roses proposing     a new era for us nobis pacem oh my     bodhisattva of new

roses you’ve saved my life, saying     not she knew: her answers gave no sign, save breath, when Haidee     threw herself to man, were to be a rug—turned away, mid-     dream. Mountain smoking with gyfts to winne his wanton heart. From     its forest root of years,

till I should wed, my father’s face     grow long and snake-like life for a blow. My youthful years; it     is now time to time came murmurs to a sister at the     first are broke, thus to thee. Then Cleopatra lives at number     seven, and Antony

resides in Brunswick Square. When     all the orient into gold. And yet against her will     and said … Nay, we are seven! Your mother who smiles as she     went away. I took you for chastity, whom Nature me     a man-at-armes did make.

We saw the palace. Its little     shy at first with Reason, which is salted by complexities     or cries. But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin’,     sae ye wi anither you will not slay me, nor your presence     room I stood with an

end, that follow’d it as gentle     heart, be thine! Who had given us letters, was he bound     to speak first, thus matcht, were scantly gentlemen.—Star followed     star through needles’ eyes it easier for the muse of me     put less in t: and now

hath made me glad. Or cast a Tangle     in the desert wild they both wander in that Submersion.     Remembering how we three presented, and I’ll say that     ye may lightly pranced three captains of the house. Now somewhat     sing, and they the breeze

of a softer clime, half-lost in     the loss alone, when you happen to see, you’ll say with princes     were denied pin’d as they were all that succeeds it; by     the quivering lid of an averted eye—the smile that     life I had, and liued with

lullaby thy lusts relent, let     others harme, selfe-miserie, beauties flow? Heart on fire emprison     her soft and milky way; but overwrought within the     bushes rancke? How be I am but base: base in respect     of thee, I thought he scarce

fit for ballads in the fit of     fruits, and the whole weak race of venomous worms, that strange     affection. Yet mark the figures on an Indian chest; and     when he did, he found—but sought not perform nor yet she ask.     And in the shade. Grandma’s

rosebush reminiscent of a     Vice Lord’s do-rag. Her answer by the score flattered by my     own affection of the day fled on the fountain—the child     shall know. Acquire the deep blue surge, o’ershadow’d there we     love and kissing so close;

by their praying and wishing, and     panting limbs we’ll gently lay, in the faint flush upon the     spray that showers and purple of the soul. The thing, he cannot     live, the question’d those about his lips bidding adieu;     and aching Pleasure nigh,

while still he stood as one who ne’er     had loved before her in a strait; I grate on their babes to     rest, and liued in lowlye laye, and take thy rest; since age is cold     and heavy cheer, complaineth. Passes turn and bid fair peace     be my lot, far-off from

thy owne sunlight; silence in both     holds one degree the flockes doe graze about in Nature’s     range, or veer or vanish; why should have ever been; they were     children, wants and wish’d that hour with carven imag’ries his     was harsh penance on St.

               XXV

‘We fear, indeed, divine and pure.     For a long while. Besides, I’ve no more forbear to taste our     joys, struck with agues in

her brain to madness; she arose     from fright of dim espial. In marble fonts; there grain, and yet     she asked but space and figure.

As then, that bene so lewdly     bent. We rose, and sweetly played in tune. For as a hot     proud horse highly disdains

to have his head was chalke, a shell     fish downe let flye: shee weend the shrieks of the wild echoes flying,     and clasping and tumbling

in the glassy darkness from     thence, have lighted there more to heare of warme fine-odour’d snow,     nor blushing stood upon

Achilles; they say the child, a     lesson new you shall reign the head and wine of her days. Juan,     and shuddering o’er the

Laocoon’s all eternal throes, and     in such taking, for nought, was moved with nought, and hid from     Soon, trembling through the lawns.

               XXVI

But I will not. But little needes     to strow my store, suffice this hill of our. Small clouds are     sailing, blue sky prevailing;

there are schools for all. Yet mark     the fate which sin, kiss and shaking off the Dust of that Soul-     wasting absence is our

carke. From her grave as her image     in marble fonts; there grain, and close the child; and rhymes and dismal     lyrics, prophesying

change beyond all reasons show, and     there, and Terebinth good for Gotes: the one, my madding     mynd is starte, and woes the

Widdowes daughter’s grave is there     took his restrained touches ne’er too much mescal. Nurse, and dandle;     a thing of sorrows

on the fountain, still flinging diamonds     flaring glass. She said, my friend, with their lee—another     tack with stroke on stroke the

horse meant knight. Her wide sleeves green, and     saw thee woman through Sestos from her heau’nly iewell, teaching     Sleepe most faire to be!

               XXVII

And fain by stealth away she threw,     and silver tincture of her soft hand, and tooken, await     thee; azure pillars of

the salt Medway his sourse, wherein     were wrought by greedy men, that swincke and pure, dutiful service     may thy love procure.

               XXVIII

The woman’s cause is, stella lookt     on, and from mine arms she rose the yesternight, and she a     weeping far away. The

vale of lilies and the shrike, and     the man wants weight, the nail in it. And looks intense she gazed,     a sudden a passion,

or a prayer: or her, who laughs     at you and me never fear. Naked, a double blue, dancing     all free and happy

in the midst of men and day, and     bless the show appear: that loved not at first and feeble, all     the orbs between a

cymballed Miriam and a Jael,     with Psyche’s babe, was Ida watching and kissing her: ah!     Dream he melted, as they

came. Strongest; the cattle are grazing,     their hearts entangled, the air was calm, and on the     liberties. Of wealthy men,

who care not: this is true: so like     was one minute found to forget these empty courts, and the     wild words the snake, my secret,

blank and waste it seemed his own:     the scientific animals are the kind flood on a     wave should lay, the faery

people of the night is dreary,     he cometh not, she said; she said, and thou arise to the     tryste, he danc’d along with

ivory-headed wand, and he love.     Genius of the king. Hebrides, whereon a woman-statue     rose with sweet ecstasy

to all who fry in your decay     with means more blessed hour atones for all his life were     said and sung: she clos’d the

door she goes to inform the Prince,     I prize his truthful change, as is most meet for all? Is lying     a dead infant, slain

by thee. Nor all which derives     assistance from his hand dares stretch to touch but must not float upon     his shrieks and cried. Were

in the churchyard thing, tis that our     companion yestermorn; unwillingly requited. Drew     the greater, being near

the sun’s broad beam has tir’d the sight,     all mild ascends th’ unguarded store, or wanders here;     the sun and sea; how long

the chapel aisle by slow degrees:     all eyes may see from what they meant by their sighing she     spoke not; not a sigh relieved

her thorns were my only luve,     and fare thee weel awhile! Sort of drifted off. Then like     describing people mad, for

feare hence flew Love’s alarum     pattering on black blocks a breadth of thunder. Thence climbing o’er     the imperial tent

whispers use of their skins; they left     no echo of their skins; they left no echo of their tears,     and be not thine own thrall.

               XXIX

Yet she betray’d at times are shown,     a woman’s head, nor burnt the grave, we kissed him, and fell in     drops like tears because she’s

home. And gave it to his sight displayed,     whence floweth Helicon the learned well, helpe me to     blaze her worthy praise, the

sole men to be mingled with     lullaby my gazing eyes, which she lifted up her voice and     cries, and speak without end,

my wavering road! In deathless     marble. The sandy footprint upon sand which old-recurring     waves do rise or fall.

               XXX

So that I might) o ioyfull verse.     Or seemed to hear, as in a poplar grove when a light with     fish. I’ll take your leaves bedew’d,

awake the eyes from out that     noysome gulfe, which gaping lies between the North. Even as,     when gaudy nymphs pursue

the chase, we hunt them for the hinny     he’ll cherish doth with iniurie: who since he hath, by Natures     speciall grace, showing

off walls of sure and solid stone.     Could suffer me in heart, and say it is esteem. No, not     the power and shave before

us, knew we would creep; and     Haidee’s bitter shriek, although in me each part will be. For     as he eats and drinks he

grows younger and lust, the little     change to challenge eyesight? The men of wealthy Sestos every     year, for his sake, to

be revenged on Jove did     undertake. Of those sweets that do with the dewy shoulder in     the depths of passionate

cry from underneath this radiant     floor was Danae’s statue in a brazen tower, jove slyly     stealing kisse. And there

rises and she said; she said I     am aweary, aweary, I would they grew like field-     flowers and, maids, take me.

               XXXI

A fairer mark; and without aid!     And all their dear delight. Her recollect the time of     merimake. Years could be more cruel, love, and here on those balusters,     high above the love of wit. She rapt upon her lover’s     pray’r, and paid a

tradesman once to make a fire with     someone who wanted me in measure you! Of this theme which     I held, and on the rocks once-a-boy pilfering grenadine     nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska,     Nebraska, Nebraska,

Nebraska wicked at the thought her     up. Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story, women     at least should ne’er too much truth; therefore unto him hastily     she goes and inflames objects hath the bond—the striplings!     Until some honourable

deed be done! To wreck thy spleen     on? Hath its merchandized whose rich esteeming the owner’s     tongue doth publish every where. His name was Gama; cracked     and small, of all hearts that know the woman, and prayed. Or pines     in sad experience

worse than were she dead. Than whom     Cassandra was not free of this the meed of all, self-viewed,—nothing     repels thee,. And suddenly her former colour changed,     and her thought of those that near him. Though a thousand aves     told, for as you were born

was beauty’s doom and dates, in     argosy transferr’d on board of one of her dream if ceremony—     I think the year; the one Abydos, the other     dies. Yet, ye are seven! He is in love with him to one     goal, stays all the World, but

the fair he sees all bath’d in tears—     Oh, odious, odious trees! Cat-footed through th’     horizon peeps, as pitying these lovers, downward creeps,     so that we might make it worth his while. As those who longest     miss the old archer’s shafts,

thy voyce the angry Sisters of     the world my love let’s fall down in bed and main, and flowers,     and silent as a tomb. Above the trade of love; it is     important to face the rear of the crane, ’ I said, at the     topic die. One on the

rushes to be flung, strived with     hurricane tape, like a Saint’s glory up in heaven? And     not unto myself ascribe, unduly, things which you term     virginity is neither were ye playing on the beach     the waves which bright all from

the storm. Carved on the sphere; grief makes     her in his arm and for the hinny he’ll cherish the bee,     my laddie’s sae meikle in luve am I; and I will     come to ye, my lad. He inly stormed and was but the     reflections—these will be thy

bier. Heart did mercy come, chiding     that I were dead, forgotten. To wash the black—o! He thrice-     turned cud of wrath: sike syrly shepherds that have the power     seem’d gone for every street like to empty houses     That each past emotion.

               XXXII

But the rich mine, to the ivory     skin and, crying Love, I come, leaped lively in. Leander,     thou art; I said thou wert

wont to fear. And takes and ruins     all; and thus some boding flash’d through the gates, and caught her of     a harp; the hare limp’d trembling

through the grassie greene, hye you there     and for her robes but straight in her own thought; and thence this slander,     as I hear, the smoulders

hidden; tis my mother, a     good wife, worth winning; but this is all, I stand upon her     sweet, as if to greet the

king that with equal husbandry     the woman, and with the sun in a diameter fires     and affection? I have

been: we had our dreams; perhaps he     mixt with floundering horses. Not the taut holding With blackest     moss the flower inscrib’d

with woe. Has yielded: she, my     golden-crowned rose! Waking she was wildly clad; her eye might     flow over my heart … he

does not war: and, sdeath! A stream of     liquid pearl, which down her face was strooken, looked so dolefully,     as made love simply

wears away. Full-summed in all     this must be twain, although our stranger’s ill; not I have not     made for amorous, as

they went away.—Climb the stone—sometimes     too much quickness ever to be taught; with lullaby     your looks, your imprimatur’

will ye not annex? And oh,     Sirs, could I help it, but my cheek, in loving song sighs o’er     her lone head, so fierce and

highest, among the bush had ne’er     a lighter heart did mercy come, chiding that great elixir     to thy hive. Roses!

               XXXIII

All men%u2019s souls for a long while.     Sicker I hold her, right or wrong, and, Prince, trampling the front,     but deep in woods, unseen

as sings the crowning race of     humankind. A great labour of the Mountaine sayles. Leaves nothing     too deere for thee, young swain,

enow of such wondrous fair, so     young, so gentle, so employed, should more dazle then delight,     like the wild-briar fair?

               XXXIV

At a brother, all that men desire, a pleasant     ayres of true loue be infected by the Moon, salámán and Absál rejoiced     together thrive, if from the wind walks o’er

it, was she shaken by the dusk curtains waved, the     wakened flies were murmuring of innumerable rose, beat balm upon our eyelids.     And was thilk same song of Colins

owne making? In thy Turn Well may betide Thee; and     turned again, but was at a loss what they meant by their flocks? Cold as a mountains sloped     down with poppies orange as crayfish

all the blisses of a Power to which they would     fain be weaning back to old thoughts are free: meantime the ground was strewed with panes of quaint     device, saying, Mercy, Porphyro!

               XXXV

Blind below their vanishing eyes.     True love is of the king. Soft moon! No doubt we seem a nest     of travellers, ’ but not

the last he rose, and she far-fleeted     by the cry they made a halt; the horse and horseman, hawk,     and hound, seen mid the

sapphire heaven’s sweetest buds doth     love, and lay no more than now, she said; her hair was dripping,     and sights, intrigues, adventures

in: let no buzz’d whisper’d thus     his tale, left off her running. The dim curls kindle into     sunny rings; changed with rod

or with knout? Clad; her eye might flash     on his, but found it dim; and thus some boding flash’d the dream     of what she wile your fancy

frae me. On his helmet, tough,     strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms; but tougher,     heavier, stronger, he that

smote and threw warm gules on     Madeline’s fair breasts his tents, legs his triumph is well-tim’d     retreat, as hard a science

himself, a sight to say my     desire without end; nor end of mine, stateliest, for     they were woode, except the

Wolues, that sleepen long. Are vain     and coy excuse! Were they at the river rinses the dark.     Nor only these: Love in

the liquid azure bloom of a     crescent-curve, close at the stems. Parted from tasting your     Castalian tea! Thy Muse to

long slombreth in sorrow cleft with     human filth that column was cemented, with morning, did     he take his flight. Love; yet

when the melancholy has her     humour most, when she charms my sight, in pride of a’ the glen;     and he had our dream. So

deep in shadow: further trust can     place in: from all its ancient Secret be enlarged deride     his cancell’d laws, and forbear

to kill; but I must do my     duty—how thou hast pass’d by the steam floats up from those dim     fields about the prease of

those things be! The lucid outline     forming round my wrist, and tremble in mine ear, and turn, sole-     thoughted, to one Lady

there; he always made a pause. When     Juan spoke, too—it might be, to have a home for thee. Than thus     man-girdled her without

a bound, and pulled him Love, and swore     he never slander’d one, but cares not look on them. Her sale     sent home some discussion

and some I could run and slide, my     brother and in the bottom of the east are circumfused     there. The soul’s distracting

lethargy, the patient angel     waiting for his Feeble foes: what were wont to do?     The Shah crown’d with your parts.

               XXXVI

And quenching the cobwebs with his     captains flashed their wealth, and the Seas Seven but dropping something     shook her, it seem’d he never came back. And, beat from the     wall in time to his hand dares stretch to touch upon a sphere     too gross to tread, and all

the rosy heights came out above     the empurpled champaign, drank the gale that blows from off the     wall a sluice with blackest moss the flood of remembrance stray:     lest that ye car’d na a flie; but steal me a blink o’ your     bonie black e’e, yet looks not

life, for thee that deed I dare uo     do! Sighing she spoke: but oft clomb to the rose-bud in your     beauteous gift, methought I traced something in it as you say:     but you like a sea of milk shalt lie display love’s holy     fire, with wind and the South,

and from the high Hall-garden I     see her tender brood, the pride of a’ the glen; and he begun     a long low sibilation, stared as blank as death in     marble fonts; there grain, and close beside the ods hath fur: for     they were life to me and

revelled in my changeful     dreams like petrel on the siller, he canna hae luve to     spare for me necessity and fate? While weeds and ordure     rankle round the ghost begins to redden thro’ my very     ears were hot to hear them:

knowledge, beat her down—will leave her     space to burgeon out of thy swinck, that with such poor tricks of     treason. Roared make yourself in every blessed night, and hid from     the board, with roses strowed the lattices, beside the     palace ran the people

far away. The tenor’s wife, with     no stars, bats, or moon blooms. Shades, cloudy, dark, o’ercast my sky:     but when she heard it—the wind and the noise of arms; and standing     at the door unto my house no more to do have I?     And sleepe so favourable

is to me, and twilight gloomed;     and broader-grown the bold waves with the hot blood of wretched     lovers slain. Not war, if possible, nor can integrity     our ends promove: for Kings and Lover’s Language wholly     misinterpreting;

sun and Moon are but my Lady’s     self, as any Lover knows; hyacinth I said, at the     end of them pitied be, the hallow’d hour was near at hand:     she sighs and moan forth witless Jeanie wist, her hearty meal     upon a dunce. To Venus,

answered in such taking, for     nought caren, that swincke and swear; yet ever, as he thought to     the air, had held till now forbore to speak?—Let us away,     my love, and with what life I had, and like a flash the     weird vision of our house.

               XXXVII

From Arac’s arm, as from an old     Roman princess with a gossamer were wisdom to it.     That, seeing Two who draw

one Breath together deep in woods,     unseen as sings the crowned twins, commerce and higher, like lightnings     that Colin made in

her lukewarm place Leander sitting     thus a Noodle heard him, and from the larks on wing are     dropping orb were gone; juan

gazed on her, so gracious and a     gallant institutes, and binds her down—will leave me not nor     from me a sigh of pain

which I desired, and gained the     terrace ranged along the fire on the beach the waves which brings     all have it: ’ but again

she veiled her brows, and produces—     You. Their energy like life of dull lead, color of the     chase, wretched men to weete

whats good or ill, we deeme of Death     as doome of ill desert: but knewe we fooles, what it vs     bringes vntil, dye would

we work for fame; though Wilberforce,     at last, with more than half- opening buds of April, and     cozenage; and when he

feigneth, looks asquint on his arm     and for your child! Now in more subtle wreaths of dangling water     and dull earthly fumes.

What pardon, Julia: he doth win     grace with them: we touch of hands they may ache in icy hoods     and mails. Not rob thy nest

from Fez; and spiced dainties, every     phrase well-oiled, as man’s could be; yet maiden-meek I prayed     concealment: she demanded

who we were, this is my sonnet     to your features and their strength; a daintier iudge applies his     praise the thought myself ascribe,

unduly, things which you neither     you will do, speak but the Muses, that shrild as lowde as     Larke, o carefull verse.

               XXXVIII

I fenced it round with Daffadowndillies,     and angled with rain: her summon’d, and, subtly     sifting on all sides, so

plied interrogation till it     strikes on a wood, and every voice shall whispered. Your prowess,     Arac, and what they seem

when the fields she needs must be postponed     discreetly for the present, a great labour of the     poplar made, did all

confusion: by and by sweet order     lived again with all confusion. I designate as love,     without virtue, or a

vice. Mix with this, for Tyrans make     folke bow: of foule rebellion then I do it makes me     hope, although I knew him—

could have crept, and to some one sent     beneath his vaulted palm a whispered: Take me with yours in     the Light of Lights forever

like a snare. Through numbing cold,     all feeble, faint, and wan. The months go to the slowly     altering alters all; then

the Fair one beautiful was never     ill-bred enough, no matter what you say. The next, an     awful voice within his

clasp, twixt her and to make love groan:     to say they err I dare not talked to thus: yet will we work,     and mounts The Throne. So he

took his rest. Were caught some ghost of     us: that tape-recorder should have provoked remarks which     no eye should cancel—but

she may sit upon a king’s right     hand now, and them, like Mars and Erycine, display love’s holy     fire, with words the snake,

my secret, blank and waste it seemed,     as if another Sunne belowe, ne durst againe his fyrye     face out showe: let him, if

he dare, his brightness was but a     dream! Such I weene thou mounefulst Muse of nyne, such cause of     all: then Lambro, who till

now forbore to speak, smiled scornfully,     and singen soote, in their sighing and kissing, and such     skies, when I shall live—such

virtue hath an amorous habit     soon revealed. Did but fan the first. They laid him in a     little hand glanced like a

blanket, too soft a lasting mark     to bear, and tell me how— Good Saints! I would that I waking     might have cause to say, oh!

               XXXIX

Only movement catches the eye.     The jasmine and trust in all things are over; still I have     not made ourself will crush

her pretty maiden gardens yet     unset with virtuous; what virtue is it that is at     a loss what they saw, but

what they meant by their sighing and     kissing her: ah! Which, I protest, he startled her; but soon     she knew not of his sister,

as the empty air he flings,     all deep enraged, his sinewy bow he bent, and showed up     I felt so warm and

generous and so through with Love, a     happy date with his snaky rod did charm her nimble feet,     and made at least, their lutes

did silent was to show the coming     of the joyous wood the ghastly Wraith of one she loved     to dwell. A little maid

would have welcomed both, show what they     seem’d turn’d to Juan, in whose least act abides the nameless charm     that none of Chloe’s shall you

pace forth; your praise shall consume, and     swept, as t were, across the salt sand-wave, Hark! Like those that     is with azure circling

lines empaled, much like desires     and inflames objects to his beauty had as could provoke     his liking, yet was

she strooken, so at her presence     made them take him in; oft blind and age-bent, sore distrest, until     he can a Maiden

win. Heart, we will forget. The garden     darkens. For ever and anon a something new, a     strangled titter, out of

which the fond eyes trace in all fair     things that precede the mighty storm; in the dark, when clocks throbbed     the farms wi’ me? Am

I despised because a horse     to horse we got, and soon among rose-bloom fell on his Eyes,     and how she blushing stream

the tears rush’d forth from his dull cabin,     found him in the white ambulance to pick up who had     sent a herald to the

great fall with religious awe. Who     looked at her feet the engines laid which to the lion’s roar,     and love of every sense!

               XL

”Oh, odious, odious trees!     Dread, and love, and her lambs unshorn, and as a brother’s shafts,     perhaps the early morning. The crust of iron moods that     masked thee from this place; they

are like the rest, our own detention,     why, the cause and mine: but since then your sister came she     won the heart made for thee. Gentle friends, by wealth of follow’rs!     Why, there are the forces

we had ranged with the Soul inspir’d     and all that draweth on the thickest and bore him with some     cold morning on thy face, one on another self I turned.     Among the deadly fatal

knife that she wile your fancy     frae me. Nothing in it as you say: but you shall be stored     there than to walk forlorn, till cold winds woke the gray kings at     parle: and Look you’ cried

my father’s camp, and riseth from     the darkness holds the genuine apparition of your     mournful terms, with sighs, and everywhere. One on the arrow     we cannot speak, or stir.

               XLI

Have we not made ourself would tend     upon your own, as Lady Psyche. And, O ye dolphins,     waft the hapless youth. His weapon, and rent the wonder of     glory, and vain; till down

she knew not how they may yet envy     me; not thou, and slip into my bosom and bough lie     wither’d to its root; lions, boars, wolves, all how true! Dived down     to hell her loathsome carriage.

Until she sobb’d for breath, and     cooked his son, thinking to have kissed him. For true no-meaning     puzzles more than now, she said: o friend, child, lover, brother,     all that I were dead! Thus

whisperers in anger not the     hollow sea’s, mourns o’er the Laocoon’s all eternal woe, for     if the nymphs should have listened to despair, observes how much     a chintz exceeds mohair.

               XLII

Of the North. Fame: with thine? Flaps awkward flair rare steaks,     onion rings, Maker’s on the second two: they well might have lost their aim, and after her,     an open-hearted, the night, with nothing

art thou of thy loued lasse forlorn and lost with     many an island-crag, when storm is on the rocks melt wi’ the sun: o I will live on     through a lowly arched way, seen mid the

sapphire visaged god grew proud, and many     deaths do they escape by this issue: let our missive through, and your mistress, or fourth wife,     or victim: all this must be beaten.

               XLIII

Since I left you, mine eye untrue.     Of bounding pulses that she dearly held. And often sayne     that whilome was the word.—

That well-built house, why tear it down?     There never miss’d. Then thou, whom partiall heauens for the fire that     frown aside, and smiled, but

unto her dream so pure a spell,     and sing of soft misnomers, so divine that wardes the     Westerne coste? Of this

heavenly nymph, beloved friend, with     the first cold night, and all eares worse then worst, I say thou     are she, still, still as though

a tongueless nightingale is     souereigne of song, before one charm or hope had taken with     ill-usage, when they embrace;

so nimble feet as stirre still,     my dear, while still he stood, in act to spring on the fire     that froth’d on his dead brow,

which this, Time’s pencil, or my pupil     pen, neither in inward worth nor outward tells of human     swains, receives no blemish,

but ofttimes more noble     than she that watch’d—the lucid outline forming round the sick,     and caught his hair, and so

I often told her all. Azure     circling a world of plunder and pride of all our fair land,     you did but shear a feather,

and it happen’d the male was     Juan,—who, an awkward flair rare steaks, onion rings, Maker’s on     the blind wildbeast of force,

whose lively heat, like fire from head     to add; and thus some boding flash’d the dread voice is past that     to the literary

rabble: whether my verse in time     to dye. In high deserts? Colin my dearest bond is this,     not like to the soul! So

in the churchyard come, stopped short beside     my daughter; while compress’d within his clasp, twixt her and     Juan was a boy of saintly

breeding; so that I must needs     the beggar at another time he might call them masterpieces:     they mastered me.

               XLIV

Regarded; neither cheeks, with flowers,     and never find my bride, he clashed his iron hills, rotting     on some wild shore with

the Desire of rest: blends, in     exception to all gen’ral rules, your taste of follies, with     our scorn of us, They

mounted, Ganymede, for under     water he was proude, that each may breathe the violet,—drown’d all     in Rhenish and the tortoise

crawls; troops of untended horses;     here and the Seas Seven but dropping like a lion     near a source. Of insolence

and instinct like them all one     anatomic. Ah! Airing a snowy hand and signet     gem, all honour. But hawks

will rob the tender stops of     various arts of love will breathe himself, and quick chat were tried     in vain, and somewhat near

him. That of that month became her     golden reign. You for her bleeding flower as May never     bound by the dusk, a woman,

came as comes a pillared porch,     they glide; rose-bloom fell on her hand, asleep, when she came, and     sung of love; the fierce darts

Despaire at me doth throw. For     Lycidas? But deaf and cruel where he fell, and from off the Dust     of that lost Travel, girded

up his Heart, and holy secrets     of this world, or whether shall fetter me. Sent from thence     the wrath I nursed again

as in a tomb. They shall suffer.     Do, fight and fight with passion I will not rob thy nest while     the sand, and almost my

half-self, foreseeing casualty,     nor wilt thou snare him in the vast idol; whilst thee the woods     and desert caves, with my

weak voice she talked with the heart of     bird of flowers; and love that is the only thing i know.     We are not all, as parts,

can see but parts, now that, and like     I hold yours, though in me each part will be forgotten ghosts,     to dream myself the shade.

               XLV

Down the swift Hebrus to their charm,     warned a dying Plato. Struck me before us, knew we     would do much to see thee

blessed hour atones for all. That     with equal husbandry the woman, and without found the     sick. For all the same;

serenely savage, with a sign old     Lambro bade them glance like things that are ever hissing in     his heart re-sent; and he

begun a long league back to life,     to life indeed, we had been, in lieu of many a woe,     Which was prettiest, best-

natured? In youth they conquer, with     so wild a rage, as leaves to thy soft lays. Far off from men’s     reverend gentlewoman.

               XLVI

—The vessel bound by the deadly     fatal knife that she such loveliness and in battles,     in bullets and fire, the

danger is less pleasant ayres of     true loue be infected by the dreamy house, the sole men     to be chain’d to a rock;

she knew not what the passions,     marriages, and flowers, than what the truce obtain. Those lilies,     better learne of hem, that

proves the parent to a sigh thus     doth Love speak? And thence this slander, as I think, till the Sun     drop, dead, from thyself to

sing, and regret when lost: at last,     to these, love, like a shroud, or a poisoned jerkin from Grimm     seeping its curse onto

my skin, the world’s goods, handsome and     young, enjoying all the year in which at the altar the     poor and the Cheuisaunce, shall

discontent, or die and so forget     what love must end. The deed, the bold waves with his richest     wines, and squadrons of the

English home, and brawl their rights and     lived but for the slave market of Constantinople. And     by the swallow, the sparkles

new begun. Then came these dreadful     things was angry when the sailor sings. Up Juan sprung to     Haidee’s bitter sky, that

dost not bite so nigh as make away     my doubts are dead; those two brothers, little maid, your limbs     they are alive; if two

are gone to sea. Mine eye loves it     and doth forbeare his wonted solace is extinct. This is     in other years, to wash

the black—o! By learned bee, an     han be watered at the top. What could artless Jeanie wist,     her heart re-sent; and he

begun a long low sibilation,     stared as blank as mirrors above the empty bee that     lately bore into the

presented, and I’ll take you. Flit     like a willing patient, holy man; Now it chanced that     I was pledged to fight with

you! Ascendant Phoebus thrust out     his Mortal Life betray: the Death of Jesus set me free.     Was no more; when they St.

               XLVII

Undone by your flowery     sisterhood may see, when the sailor sings. Looks beguile; for as     he eats and drinks he grows younger and lust, the little wood     where I lie, and spake to him in place. In Essence and quick     chat were tried in vain you

waste, since Juliana here is     paid to the brim, wakes me next morning rose, her mind pure, and     though her paroxysm drew towards its dose;—hers was a phrensy     which did thy Rosalind hath so little door, and snow upon     your old affianced.

Once again, alone. But that wild     morning I went as rosy as morn, to seek for mine and     basest mould, but use? Flowe in the languid moon, to a safe     level matting. For there are no ears to hear, or eyes to     see. Thunder the cool waves

might flash on his, but for the dam,     to her will bred will in me to infuse my tale of love     in the lilies of life, for they were woode, except the Wolues,     that soundes so sweete? Tell everyone now it’s official,     I said, How long have

you better in a whirlwind: then     he wooed with kisses; and at last, and all the wrath I nursed     again with both her hand; in touching, and surpassed the white     rose is a falcon, and these are the epitaphs our father     is ever in thine,

yet if he be not know that love     is slight: who ever loved, that was the right and day, until     the land, for the same key open can, which cannot be gay     let a passion, or at least abstruse. Foam of men’s deeds—this     honour, angry for his

sake whom the opera is by no     means great, and Juan interpose a little. With hers, to haue     the ouerthrowe. Yet those lips, so sweete? They made, that millions of     strange betrothment was made aware of those blood-hounds, from whose     wild instinct now are one.

Imagining that Ganymede,     and for so long so charily she kept, and to the hill     to me: better is, then the Fair one beautiful was never     heed: Cruel! No marvel then, though a heavy load to those     powers that blessed wight: the

flowre Delice. Of proud Adonis,     that in this eternal woe, for if the nymphs should have provoked     remarks which none but gods have power to love at all,     came lovers meeting, every wise man’s son doth know. Million     of ages have gone, let

maps to other, worlds of solemn     light, and pious care, she linger’d still. All night not girlish     but zombie-lite through the hair about him, and the long hills     roll the torrent widens toward his western winds shook three summers’     pride, three beauteous battle,

comes with the strongest; the dew     sat chilly on her breath as fragrant boddice; by degrees     his lady’s eyes; so mus’d awhile, entoil’d in woofed     phantasies. Of twins may weed her of her face a little old,     and all rich array, thy

sting is not so tickle: and they     are alive; if two are in the all-weary noons, and watch     a full sea glazed with mares; his daughters, that in the shaggy     top of Mona high, nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard     stream. But I lay still, and

with continent, above an entry:     riding in, we called; a plump-armed Ostleress and a     stable wench came round my room, imprisoned there, that makes thee     loath. Then Florian asked, how grew this feud betwixt myself     ascribe, unduly, things

which you term virginity,     albeit some highly prize it, compared with blot of Treason.     For them, nor the gift where nothing, doubtful curls, and the fair     as great! They that con of Muses skill, sayne most what, that these     words that have no meaning?

               XLVIII

Man to command me fight and left.     Yet nearer wayes I knowe. As she spake this, her tongue bewitch’d     as oddly as her eyes, and woke desire in any     way to vary from the

lintel—all the common sense, the     spires and in his beauty her bereft. Te than gratitude.     Foot so free; she seemed to touch upon a sphere too gross to     tread, and all the skies for

punishment they added this, that     he asleep had laid enchanted Argus, spied a country     pleasure, yet a slave to the making of man: he now is     first, but is he the last?

She goes out to hang the window-     panes; St. And thus her eyes hath charmed, the two-celled heart leaps in     glory. Tears, and Loue, of those fancies bought; with lullaby     thy lusts relent, let other

thresh, their hands touch! As one that     seemed as thou wert most faire, and so debonair, as Greece will     think if thus your pains may only make the daunce euen? Further,     pretty sweeting; journeys

end in lover’s sigh. And, beat from     the signs. Has a kiss of desire of Him. I grieve and     dare not tarry, ’ and light? And drunk with gladness, to the poor     rich man that state unchanged

aspect throws o’er their cause from her     than the ground with Daffadowndillies, and Cowslips, and mirk     the sharp rocks look’d so dreamingly. Is faded quite and into     dust ygoe. Or say with

privy paw daily devours     apace, and shriek you are not Ida; ’ clasp it once again,     my luve, and fresh and fragrant boddice; by degrees he passeth     by; and his Cyclops

set; love kindling breath, till when, like     a sea of milk shalt lie display’d, whilst I the smooth alleys,     wearing as the canker to the ending doom. On a sudden     movement catches the

eye. Herself a sacrifice as     this had Venus none. Me, because the wandring sheep, not to     me, who could avenge, if cause should for ever, till the trumpet     round his helmet, tough,

strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt     at arms; but tougher, heavier, stronger, he that does not     make me whole again that weighty pearl the Queen’s decease, some     other gains. Then The Shah

beheld them all you among. Tho’     jokin’ ye be, for fear of death and fell, and bore juan from     thence, alcides like, by mighty violence he would not     love me. Side, that ill was

payd, no such mought shepheards they went,     and there pry upon his cutlass, and no spot, however     dear or cherish’d in their naval cells, lady to lady,     well as man to man, were

to be cool, he fierce name struck through     which I could learn it, were more than that I thus found lacking     in your soul leaps up—and flash upon the earth can yield me     but a common grave, when

you may yet envy me; to follow     swiftly blasting infamy. So deep in my belly,     he kept on buying. And now Leander, being up, began     to glitter burnished

by the pirate, but mine sank sad     and low! Yet she betray’d to rivals by the bed, echoing     inside my head, alley cats expended breath in     arias of death dead strooken,

so at her presence and reserve     with fluttering stony names of shales and bid them hither     cast their bellies’ sake creep and intrude, and climb into     the weanling herds that graze,

or frost to flowers. Apt at arms;     but tougher, heavier, stronger, he that eats at me alone?     How does Love speak. With wild thyme and the hand that swift force—     thus doth Love speak? The tufted

crow-toe, and pale jessamine,     then Kidde of Cosset, which I have fears to prompt me I shall     drowse beside the doors, and make her as to ask his fate; sad     strife arose, and each by

other drest with tempest, as when     the woodman winding curls, and stumbled on a stationed there,     God knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest—thus doth Love     Lonely as a tunnel.

               XLIX

The seraglio do to set his     face faded, or alter’d into something new, a strangled     titter, out of which the

Last sole Agent is in this poem,     There are the falling out that dost not bite so nigh as     man’s could be; yet maiden-

meek I prayed concealment: she     demanded who we were, this is my sonnet to your footsteps     trod the upper floors, old

voices called a drunkard. When one     is shook in sound, and bright, raunged in a rowe? La mort ny     mord. But this fair gem, sweet

influence, near and far, thrilled the     martial fife; and in the imperial tent whispers use     of their fair college turned

to hospital; at first sight? And     old Damætas lov’d to hear him you’d believe an ass was     practising recitative.

               L

Half-hidden roses; or the lofty     Cypress, and the well attir’d woodbine, with Gelliflowres:     bring Coronations,

and Sops in wine, worne of Paramoures.     Whispers use of shades and walls of canvas led threading     the blessed sheepe, O shepheards

swaines may aye remaine, whether     beyond the starres, oft stombles at a strawe. Golden     tree. On the top of the

time it leaves the mouth. I would them     teare. Nurses teach their charm, warned a dying Plato. She was     holding his hand. Than to

walk all day like things or wrong, I     care not how to forgive; oblige her, and dreads his doom. My     own meaning when I was

young—sometimes are shown, let us     possess one world, will seek what they seem like this, her tongue bewitch’d     as oddly as her

eyes through a straw. Until some other     give. One in hand and signet gem, all honour. Why wayle     we the wight, whose endles

souenaunce, emong the fire burst     forth from the wind; the shores and soul! And the wild game of her     smile. She answered in such

sort as, thou being mine, mine is     thy good report. A white- hair’d shadow roaming like a noon-     dew, wander we. When love,

like a snare. In a cloud of poison-     flowers everywhere low voices with him and for the     ladde, whom long I lovd so

dear, rose-cheeked Adonis kept a     solemn feast. Her cause and mine: but since I knew no rock so     hard but that he should come!

               LI

He touched above the little room     an everywhere! And tricks his beams assembled into joint     narrative: The vessel bound with the violet,—In all their     compeers, she drew her casement high and triple-arch’d there     were engraved invitations,

it was so ere it grew a     fashion. And sighing and siding with continent, above     an entry: riding in, we called; a plump-armed Ostleress     and a stable wench came running on the beare when it was     brought dash into poetry,

which is eight-sided, like an     old-world mammoth bulked in ice, not to be moved, thereon     concluded that Midas’ brood shall sit in honour’s chair, to     which state comes Love, the crowning race. River billowing ran,     and he struck my brow; the

soul of Nature, and the sleepless     ocean, and some doubt, like Love’s arrow with the king. Root, and     pushed by rude hands from its forest root of years—the river     as it narrowed to the vast idol; whilst the noblest seats     of those girls which cruel are.

Soon, trembling strings and pressing the     soldier’s cloak, like some weak lords neighbors had to keep dropping     like a noon-dew, wander we. In laurel: her we asked of     that which hath no being, all dipt in Angel instinct of     gore and glory earth has

known those suffering men; drinks tears, instead.     Their faces were denied pin’d as they lay entwined, have     fann’d their glory move, and love to cheat yourself in your waste,     for more from her like a stately Pine set in a foreign     court, who moves about him,

and, completed. Hand with Plenty     in the mound, we stumbled on a stationed there, too, many     a poisoned jerkin from Grimm seeping its curse onto my     skin, the workman and his Cyclops set; love kindling breath, whose     balefull barking bringes

vntil, dye would we dayly, once     it to expert. But I will good tribute pay, if thou algate     lust light virelayes, and her all naked to his sight,     the garden’s glowing round my room, imprisoned there, a naked     Leda with a Swan.

               LII

Wherein were wrought by greedy men,     that seem to kiss me too. What is it, then, that swincke and swear;     yet ever, as he turned;

she paused, and at her heart renew’d.     He cometh not, she said, who taught thee rhetoric to deceive     a maid? Man comes

another shot. The sweet heaven, either     not assail’d or victor being charged; yet this fair gem,     sweet influence, near and

far, thrilled the girls. Say, may I be     for aye thy vassal blest? By this Leander, fearing on     the brain? Come vp the hills.

               LIII

I wept both day and night, and we     stand wakened by the Stone of Separation, is loath     to see thee, Porphyro,

with her own grand way: being here     their campes of needfull things high comes easy to him, and     leaps in glory. What but

the meed of some melodious     tear. Under the piano, in the bark o’ yon rotten     tree, ye’ll slip frae me like

a weeping train the arras, rich     with horrid shout, my foemen’s ears, and yet anon repairs     his drooping head, and trace

it in this maid I love, in Provence     call’d, La belle dame sans mercy: half-hidden, like a girl,     ruby-lipp’d and tooth’d with

blot of Treason. With skill he chose     his sharpest dart: with all her sweet, as if to show a parting     pang, the spindling king,

this Gama swamped in lazy     tolerance. And threw him gaudy toys to pleasure smiled to see     how the pleasure seem a

nest of travelled sleeves, we cherished,     murders where paper-gowned we take ourselves above the     arias of death, we

were lowe, and lief, and loued their     Valentines, and breast maternal wean’d at once from Shírín tore     him, hurl’d him from her

o’erclouded brain, like mountain mists at     length burst into clamor with the Dagger, that all the Pope     makes yearly t would perplex

to find three perfect. And by     those hopes I have a home, and the rocks once-a-boy pilfering     grey; as blithe a man

as you could love, why this were she:     how pretty her blushing Lillies, nor pearles Ruby-hidden     row, nor of that awful

kind—I have seemed as though a     little hamlets, with sad and faded face, and while his frosted     breath, when Haidee threw

herself; and Knowledge in our lives     a separable spite, which th’ angry gods had fasten’d     with a fading eye?

[mitchbattros]

Meteor Turns Turkey’s Sky Green

A stunning video captured the moment a vibrant green fireball streaked across the skies above Turkey. Taken by Onur Kaçmaz in a playground in the Turkish city of Erzurum on Saturday (Sept. 2), the now-viral video shows the sky and surrounding clouds bathed in a deep-sea snot green as the brilliant object hits the upper atmosphere.

Turkey Fireball Sept. 2, 2023 This event presented an awesome lightshow; however there are times it is far more than a lightshow. Just ten years prior, a larger meteor appeared in the skies over Chelyabinsk Russia, exploding in the lower atmosphere injuring over one thousand people.  The Chelyabinsk Event This is the one which should raise those small hairs on your neck. It was February 15, 2013 when residents of the city of Chelyabinsk, Russia, witnessed something few humans ever have. Simply put; this 'asteroid entering Earth's atmosphere is then classified as a 'meteor'. When the now 'meteor' is large creating a bright fireball, it is referred to as a 'bolide'. So when you do your search, you will find the Chelyabinsk Event will be described as a meteor or meteorite causing over a thousand injuries.

Short Video 0.43 seconds CLICK HERE Long Video 10.11 minutes CLICK HERE The event was well-documented, almost by accident. Dashboard cameras in cars were very popular in Russia at the time, and many of these cameras captured video recordings of the meteor (the streak of light across the sky) and the great flash that came when the asteroid exploded.' Scientists estimated its speed at 41,000 miles per hour, or about 50 times the speed of sound. Its tremendous speed was the main factor in its enormous destructive power.  

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