#Violet Crown Spirits

[novaursa]

Embers or War

- Summary: Aegon steals you and starts the Dance of Dragons.

- Paring: reader!niece/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N Targaryen (carries the name of her mother's House) and has silver hair. Silverwing is reader's dragon.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 552

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The candles in your chamber flicker, casting shadows that dance against the stone walls. You try to calm your racing heart, but the thought of the impending marriage to Lord Trystan Arryn, a man you barely know, fills you with dread. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had arranged this union to solidify alliances, to strengthen her claim, to ensure the future she envisioned for you and your family. But your heart, it was not in the Vale. Your heart yearned for someone else.

Far across the Red Keep, Aegon II Targaryen paced in his chambers, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor. His mind was a tempest, a storm of emotions he could scarcely control. Anger, frustration, and a bitter sense of betrayal warred within him. The words of his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, still rang in his ears.

"End this war before it begins, Aegon. Marry Y/N. Unite the houses. Rhaenyra's refusal is nothing but selfishness."

Aegon had wanted to heed his mother's advice, to reach out and take what he believed was rightfully his. But Rhaenyra, stubborn and unyielding, had denied him. She had promised you to another, a political pawn in her game of thrones.

He sat heavily in a chair, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, his violet eyes dark with brooding thoughts. The very idea of you with another man, a man who could never understand you the way he did, filled him with a rage he could barely contain.

"She thinks me unworthy," Aegon muttered to himself, the words dripping with disdain. "She believes her daughter deserves better than me."

He thought back to the times he had seen you, the fleeting moments that had etched themselves into his memory. Your laughter, your grace, the fierce determination in your eyes that mirrored his own. He had wanted you, not just as a means to an end, but because he had seen in you a kindred spirit, someone who understood the weight of the crown and the fire of the dragon.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Ser Criston Cole stepped inside, his face a mask of concern. "Your Grace, the preparations for the marriage are underway. Is there anything you wish to do?"

Aegon looked up, his eyes hardening. "This marriage is a farce, Criston. My mother is right. We must end this war before it begins, and Y/N is the key."

"But Rhaenyra has refused," Criston reminded him, his voice cautious. "She will not give up her daughter so easily."

"Then I will take what is mine," Aegon said, his voice a low growl. He stood abruptly, moving to the chest at the foot of his bed. He opened it and began to pull out his dragon riding armor, the black and red leather gleaming in the candlelight.

Criston's eyes widened slightly. "Your Grace, what are you doing?"

Aegon did not answer immediately. He fastened the buckles, the familiar weight of the armor grounding him, giving him purpose. "If Rhaenyra will not see reason, then I will make her see it. I will not let her dictate my fate, nor Y/N’s," he said, more to himself than to Criston.

He donned his gauntlets and helmet, each piece falling into place with a resolute finality. He felt the fire of his ancestors burning within him, the fierce determination that had driven the Targaryens to conquer Westeros. He would not be denied.

Criston watched, a mix of apprehension and admiration in his gaze. "You mean to take her by force?"

Aegon looked at him, his eyes blazing. "If that is what it takes. Y/N will not marry the Arryn lord. She will be mine."

As he strode out of his chambers, the clinking of his armor echoing through the halls, Aegon's mind was set. The time for negotiations was over. He would claim you, not just to prevent a war, but because in his heart, he knew you belonged with him. And he would move heaven and earth to make it so.

The Sept of the Eyrie was filled with the soft murmur of voices, the flickering light of candles, and the heavy scent of incense. The banners of House Arryn and House Targaryen hung side by side, a symbol of the alliance being forged. You stood at the altar, clad in a gown of silver and blue, the colors of both your houses woven together in intricate patterns. The weight of the dragon-shaped necklace, a gift from your mother, pressed against your collarbone, a constant reminder of the destiny that had been chosen for you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the silent cry of Silverwing, who remained restless outside. You could feel her unease, her discontent mirroring your own. You glanced around the Sept, your eyes meeting those of your family. Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood tall and regal, her expression unreadable. Your brothers, Jace and Luke, watched with a mix of pride and apprehension. Daemon, your stepfather, stood with his twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena, their faces reflecting the solemnity of the occasion.

Lady Jayne Arryn, your soon-to-be mother-in-law, was a commanding presence, her gaze piercing as she surveyed the gathered guests. She had demanded a dragon, and your brother Jace had promised her one, binding you to this fate. You tried to steady your breathing, focusing on the vows you were about to take, the words that would seal your future.

The High Septon began the ceremony, his voice a deep, resonant tone that filled the sacred space. "We are gathered here today to join House Arryn and House Targaryen in holy matrimony, to forge an alliance that will bring strength and unity to our lands."

As he spoke, you felt a hand gently take yours. You turned to see Lord Trystan Arryn, a man older than you by many years, but with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. He smiled at you, a reassuring gesture that did little to calm the storm within you.

"Do you, Y/N Targaryen, take this man to be your lord husband, to honor and protect, in sickness and in health, for all the days of your life?"

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Your mind drifted to Aegon, the man who had occupied your thoughts more than you cared to admit. His fiery spirit, his determination, his undeniable connection to you through the bond of your shared blood. But those thoughts were a distant dream now, replaced by the reality of your duty.

"I do," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"And do you, Lord Trystan Arryn, take this woman to be your lady wife, to honor and protect, in sickness and in health, for all the days of your life?"

"I do," Lord Trystan replied, his voice steady and sure.

The High Septon smiled, raising his hands in blessing. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. May the Seven bless your union and grant you many years of happiness."

As he spoke, the doors of the Sept burst open, and a rush of cold air swept through the chamber. The sudden intrusion caused a murmur of surprise among the guests. You turned, your heart leaping into your throat as you saw what had caused the disturbance.

Silverwing, your dragon, roared outside, her cry a mixture of anger and fear. The ground beneath you trembled, and the candles flickered wildly. A shadow passed over the Sept, darkening the space as something massive descended from the sky.

The ceiling above you began to crack and crumble, the stones shifting under the weight of an enormous presence. Screams echoed around you as guests scrambled to escape the falling debris. You looked up, your eyes widening in horror as a dragon, larger and fiercer, landed atop the Sept.

The roof gave way, and chunks of stone plummeted to the ground. You were pulled back by your brother Jace, his grip tight on your arm as he shielded you from the falling rubble. Your mother and Daemon moved swiftly, their swords drawn as they tried to maintain order amidst the chaos.

"Y/N, we need to get out of here!" Jace shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the dragon.

You nodded, your mind racing. This was no mere accident. This was an attack, a declaration of war. And you knew, deep in your heart, who was behind it.

As the ceiling continued to collapse, you caught a glimpse of the dragon's rider, clad in black and red armor. Aegon. His presence here, his audacity, sent a surge of conflicting emotions through you—fear, anger, and a twisted sense of relief.

The Sept of the Eyrie was no longer a place of holy matrimony. It had become a battlefield, and as the dust and debris settled around you, one thing was clear: the war had begun.

The sky was filled with chaos as Sunfyre roared, his golden scales glinting in the dim light. Aegon gripped the reins tightly, his eyes fixed on the Sept below. He spotted you amidst the wreckage and confusion, your silver hair standing out like a beacon. With a swift command, Sunfyre descended, landing with a thunderous crash on what remained of the roof.

Inside, the screams of guests and the cries of your family mingled with the deafening roar of the dragon. You stood frozen, your heart racing as you watched Aegon dismount and stride towards you, his expression a mixture of determination and desperation.

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Jace, realizing Aegon's intent, moved to shield you. "Stay away from her, Aegon!" he shouted, drawing his sword.

Aegon’s eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "She comes with me, Jacaerys. This marriage will not happen."

Before Jace could react, Aegon was upon him, disarming him with a swift motion. He grabbed your arm, pulling you close. "Trust me, Y/N," he whispered urgently. "This is the only way."

You looked into his eyes, the conflict within you mirrored in his gaze. Before you could respond, he lifted you onto Sunfyre's back and mounted behind you. With a mighty flap of his wings, Sunfyre took to the sky, the wind whipping around you as the ground fell away beneath you.

Below, Daemon raced to Caraxes, his face a mask of fury. He leaped onto his dragon and gave chase, the blood-red beast slicing through the sky with terrifying speed. But as he drew closer, the realization dawned upon him—if he attacked, he risked your life as well. With a roar of frustration, he reined in Caraxes, watching helplessly as Sunfyre carried you away.

You clung to Aegon, your heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. The landscape blurred beneath you as Sunfyre soared towards King’s Landing, Silverwing trailing close behind. The flight was a whirlwind of emotions—anger at Aegon for his recklessness, fear for what awaited you, and an inexplicable thrill at being with him.

As Sunfyre landed in the courtyard of the Red Keep, you were immediately surrounded by guards and courtiers, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Aegon dismounted, helping you down with surprising gentleness.

Otto Hightower stormed towards you, his face livid. "What have you done, Aegon? This act will ignite the war we sought to avoid!"

Aegon faced his grandfather with steely resolve. "The war was inevitable, Otto. This was the only way to secure our position."

Without another word, he led you through the labyrinthine hallways of the Red Keep, his grip on your arm firm but not painful. The walls seemed to close in around you as he guided you to his chambers, his silence heavy with unspoken words.

Inside his chambers, Aegon turned to face you, his eyes softening. "I had no other choice, Y/N. I couldn’t let you be taken from me."

You stared at him, your emotions a tumultuous storm. "You’ve started a war, Aegon. Do you understand that? My mother, my brothers—what will become of them?"

He stepped closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "I know the risks, but I couldn't bear to lose you. We will find a way through this, just us."

His words, filled with a desperate sincerity, made your resolve waver. You felt the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, and despite everything, you couldn’t deny the bond between you.

Slowly, Aegon began to undress you, his fingers deft and sure. The cool air brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He shed his own armor and clothing, revealing the strength and vulnerability beneath. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the intimate glow of the chamber as he moved you to his bed.

Aegon’s eyes were locked onto yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing, determination, and something deeper, something that made your heart race.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his touch both reassuring and possessive. His fingers trailed down your arms, igniting a trail of warmth that spread through your entire body. He pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with yours. “Are you ready, Y/N?” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. “Yes, Aegon. I’m ready.”

With a gentle touch, Aegon positioned himself above you, his movements careful and deliberate. He entered you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. The initial sensation was intense, a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain, but his tenderness reassured you.

He began with a slow, rhythmic pace, each movement deepening the connection between you. “Is this alright?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern and desire.

“It’s perfect,” you replied, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping them for support.

Encouraged by your response, Aegon quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming more insistent, more urgent. Each movement was filled with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that moment. The world outside the chamber faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the intensity of your shared desire.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. The sound of his name on your lips seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more deliberate, more determined.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. 

The passion between you built to a crescendo, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sensations were overwhelming, a blend of raw need and deep affection. You felt as if you were standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to plunge into the depths of your shared desire.

As the intensity peaked, Aegon held you close, his breathing ragged. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. “Nobody will take you away from me,” he promised, his voice a vow.

As his lips met yours once more, the Dance of Dragons began, a storm of fire and blood that would shape the future of Westeros. In that moment, amidst the chaos and impending war, there was only you and Aegon, bound by fate and a love that defied the world.

[esoteric-chaos]

Spring Equinox Masterpost- Spoonie Witch Friendly

Art Credit: Anastasia Catris

The Spring Equinox, also called the Vernal Equinox or Ostara, is usually celebrated between the 21st of March in the Northern Hemisphere (In the Southern Hemisphere around September 20th or 21st)

In 2024, Ostara and the Spring Equinox land in the Northern Hemisphere on Monday, March 19th.

The Spring Equinox celebrates the arrival of spring. Celebrating balance, growth, and new beginnings as Winter has finally ended.

Spring Equinox Correspondances

Colours

Light Green

Lavender

Sunny Yellow

Light Blue

Pastel Pink

White

Herbal

Lemongrass

Daffodils

Tulips

Violets

Apple Tree

Cherry Blossom

Primrose

Birch tree

Hyacinths

Dandelion

Garlic

Ash tree

Jasmine

Edibles

Honey

Salad greens

Spring veggies

Fresh berries

Mead

Herbs

Eggs

Seeds

Bread

Edible flowers

Quiches

Custards

Maple

Animals

Hares

Baby Chicks

Snakes

Robins

Bees

Butterflies

Phoenix

Ram

Crystals

Fluorite

Moonstone

Silver

Aquamarine

Clear Quartz

Amazonite

Symbols

Bonfires

Flowers

Rabbits

Eggs

Seeds

Baskets

Flowering or Tree Buds

Lambs

Birds

Spiritual meanings

Purification

Cleansing (removal of stagnant energy)

Growth

Transition

Motivation

Balance

Birth

Good fortune

Kindness

Joy

Fertility

Scents

Coconut

Citrus

Floral scents (rose, lilac, jasmine, etc)

Herbal scents (rosemary, basil, mint, etc)

Gods / Goddesses / Spirits

Eostre –  (Anglo-Saxon)

Aphrodite - (Greek)

Gaia - (Celtic)

Gaea - (Greek)

Venus - (Roman)

Athena - (Greek)

Aurora - (Roman)

Eos - (Greek)

Isis – (Egyptian)

Freya - (Norse) 

Persephone - (greek)

Cybele - (Roman)

The Green Man - (Celtic)

Odin – (Norse) 

Osiris – (Egyptian)

Pan – (Greek)

Thoth – (Egyptian)

Adonis – (Greek)

Apollon –  (Greek)

Apollo - (Roman)

Need some suggestions to celebrate? I've got you covered.

High energy celebrations and ritual

Deep cleaning of the hearth and home

Nature hikes

Visiting farmers markets

Making preserves

Create a fae garden

Create a seasonal altar

Abundance/Prosperity ritual

New beginnings ritual

Low energy celebrations 

Wear pastels

Create flower crowns

Light a candle with scent correspondence

No spoon celebrations 

Opening a window

Journaling Prompts

Keeping hydrated

Drink floral tea

Rest

How you celebrate the holiday does not matter. You can choose to do any activity that feels right. These are only suggestions and remember that you're enough no matter what.

Also please note some stuff is UPG. A great book is Year of the Witch by Temperance Alden for honouring the celebrations and if you wanted to work more seasonally. It's not Wiccan-based and has plenty of resources for every witch.

Feel free to post how you celebrate in the comments or reblogs!

Want to see more of my posts? Check out my Wheel of the Year Masterpost or my Main Masterpost.

[arcielee]

Fare Well

Photo credit.

Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x female!reader Word Count: 1600+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, knifeplay, object penetration, kissing, p in v, creampie, using intercourse as an escape from reality. Author’s Note: Listen, the new trailer came out and our muses are buzzing again. This smutty piece was inspired by this story by @valeskafics as well as this beautiful edit by the beautiful @bucknastysbabe. The title is from Hozier, as you all should come to expect now, and this can also be read on ao3. This is dedicated to @f4ll-for-you, my wonderful Tumblr kindred spirit who made me into the Aegon girly I am today. 💜 A huge thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for beta reading and making sure this all made sense. 💜 Enjoy!

“What troubles you, your grace?”

You had remained in the shadows and listened to the voices grow louder, though still muted through the walls, with their worries of what was to come next. They exited one by one, the morose men chosen to serve the king’s council, with the lord commander of the kingsguard escorting the queen dowager donned in green, her eyes downcast and her expression etched with her perpetual worry since her lord husband had passed. The lord hand was the last to leave, his face lined and wearied, his slow gate returning him to the tower where he would–as Aegon confided to you–continue to pen letters to garner support across the realm. 

It was only then that you dared to enter the room. You saw Aegon was seated at the head of the table, his violet gaze placed on the Valyrian dagger in his hands, the iron and rubies that once belonged to the Conqueror gleaming above him. 

The sun was streaking through the windows behind, giving him a kingly glow. His hair was a shade lighter and his cheeks sunkissed from the hours aback Sunfyre; despite the threat beyond the horizon, you knew that Aegon enjoyed patrolling the skies with his brothers.

It was these little confessions that he shared with you in the clandestine moments stolen within the walls of the Red Keep. He told you how he wished to be distracted, to allow a reprieve for his mind that weighed heavy with this anointed crown, and you were just this distraction, flesh and blood pulsing with your desire. 

It was then he looked up to see you still shyly posted in the doorway. “You seemed troubled, your grace,” you repeated with kindness, with concern. 

“I am now always troubled, it feels,” his smile was forced. “It seems to be something that comes with the weight of this.” He removed the crown and it echoed dully as he dropped it on the table. “But perhaps you can serve your king.” 

Your foot pushed the door until it closed soundly, and you took a step towards him. For a moment you saw the boy you had grown up with, mischievous and smirking, peering up at you from beneath the title of king. “This is why I am here,” your reply was sultry, and you saw how the black began to swallow the color of his eyes. “To serve, your grace.” 

Aegon sheathed the dagger and set it aside his crown before slouching back to spread his legs wider in the ornate chair he sat. Your stomach tightened at the sight of his thick outline against his thigh, pressing through his slacks, and you felt the flutter of that desire trilling your spine, spilling back into your veins. 

Your heart vibrated beneath and his lips curled upwards when he noticed where your eyes fell. His large hand patted his thigh. 

The gesture summoned you and you moved within his arms reach. He pulled you onto his lap, his face burying into the curve of your neck with a groan, a deep inhale that tickled. “Your grace,” you giggled, squirming in his hold, your blood warming your skin. 

“It is only us now,” he murmured against your skin, “and all I wish now is  to tear away these layers, lay you on this table, and have what lies beneath your finery.” 

“You would not dare,” you whispered, your eyes bright. 

His fingers dug into your hip while his other hand snaked under your thighs to lift you up from his seat. You giggled again, your arm quick to wrap around his neck to brace for his step forward as he set you on the edge of the table. His hands pawed at your layers, searching to find the dagger and he began to slice through your fabric.  

Your surprise spilled from your lips. “Aegon!”

He did not falter, but sheathed it and set it back down so his hands could grab fistfuls, tearing away the fabric to allow you room to part your thighs and welcome him. Your hands moved from his chest and combed through his hair, smoothing the indent left behind from his crown. He hummed from your touch, his hands moving from your hips and following your curves to your backside, pulling you closer so he could tilt his chin forward and capture your lips. 

His kiss devoured you wholly, pulling the air from your lungs with the dizzyingly desperation of his lips against your own. Your arms wrapped again around his neck and you rolled your hips for friction against the warmth he emitted through his royal garb, your fingers clawing at the fabric. 

You could feel his smile against your lips, his fingers returning to his hold on your hips. The outside of his palm rested on the dip and his thumbs pressed to the bone, eliciting a pleasure that jolted through you. You moaned softly and his mouth broke away, wet kisses that now trailed along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the slope of your neck. 

“Aegon,” you could not help but whine, and you tightened your legs around his hips. 

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable, flushed. For a moment you were lost in his heady gaze, only brought back once you felt his hand trailing the detailing of your bodice and pressing until you laid back on the table. His other hand retrieved the dagger once more and your smallclothes were cut away, the air crisp against the slick between your thighs. 

“So wet for me already,” he clucked his tongue, “and I have barely begun.” 

Your stuttered response only further goaded him. His brow cocked. “What was that?” 

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Touch me, Aegon. Please.”

The darkness in his eyes glittered with the sunlight, and his satisfaction curled across his square jaw. “No. Not quite yet.” 

Before you could protest, you felt the pressure of something that was smooth, almost cool to the touch. You peered down to see the sheathed dagger pressed sideways to your bare cunt, the ruby stone sliding against the slick, the blossom of your arousal allowing him a circular motion of the gemstone against the bundle of nerves.  

You shuddered in response, your skin rising on your thighs and chest, and your head fell back, your hands pressing flat on the polished wood to anchor yourself. The unfamiliar touch began to build a familiar sensation, something that fluttered throughout, catching your exhale in your throat. 

“Aegon,” you cried, his name spilling sickly sweet from your lips, an endearment with the desperation of your tone. 

“Let me,” he soothed, his voice rasped with his intent focus. 

He moved the hilt and its decorative ridges rubbed along your swollen nerves. You squealed with the touch and then the intrusion, feeling his palm press to the inside of your thigh. “Trust me,” he whispered, his eyes boring between your thighs. You relaxed to his touch, feeling the curve of the handle pressing sweetly within you.

It sparked lights before your eyes and Aegon was pleased. He moved his thumb to replace where the gemstone rubbed enticingly before, matching the tandem of the hilt that now pulled you upwards to the prior peak and then past. It filled your chest, a bursting euphoria that pulsed your walls around the handle.

“Sȳz riña,” his voice low with his praise. Good girl.

Your head lifted, drowsy, and you saw him touch the glossy shine that now covered the hilt, his fingers showing the sticky web of your climax. His eyes met with yours as he showed you, and his eyebrows raised when you pushed to sit up, your hand gently covering his own to pull it towards your lips, licking the ruby and tasting yourself.  

It clattered to the cobblestone and his free hand now grabbed the nape of your neck, his lips finding yours with his returned desperation. Fingers collided to loosen his drawstrings, your hands pulling his cock free and guiding his blunt head to press against your silk entrance. 

His large hand wrapped around the base and you cant your hips, angling yourself so his cock can slowly sink into your wet warmth. You mewled from the delicious stretch and he shuddered once he was fully buried between your thighs. Aegon paused, stealing a kiss, a taste of tenderness on his lips as he began to rock against you. 

It started slow with a low groan spilling from his kiss swollen slips as he watched his cock disappear inside you again and again. He savored the lewd sounds, your soft cries as he pushed deeper within you, your fingers grasping to hold yourself upright, to remain as close to him as possible. 

Your body still simmered with your prior release and it did not take much to build again. His hips snapped against yours with the wet sound of skin to skin, and your walls began to flutter. It is a breathless chorus, your soft gasps and his low groan, your pleasure pulling with a creamy spill of passion that tightened around him, his cock pulsing hotly within you. 

You fell back to your elbows, trying to catch your breath, and Aegon slumped over, his damp brow pressing to yours, the mess of his golden waves falling across your face. His scent washed over you, exotic oils that were sent as gifts and the sheen of sweat on his skin. 

The council chambers are noiseless now, and you hold still under the dimming candles lit for the chandelier above. It is another clandestine moment stolen, where your hearts thrummed in unison before slowing back to their regular pace, pulling you back to the heavy reality that settled in the quiet.

It lingered in the shadows, the faraway thought, the threat beyond the horizon, the echoed worries returning of what will come next. 

Tumblr kindred spirits [taglist]: @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowprincesa1 @officerbrowneyes @qyburnsghost @namelesslosers

[blueberrypancakesworld]

You are ours - Greens

Greens x fem!reader (hostage)

characters : Aemond, Aegon ii, Helaena, Alicent, Criston

warning : hostage (capture), hurt/comfort, implied obsession, emotional, kiss, war, fear, implied death, smut (lightly implied), targaryen incest, f/f, m/f, no use of Y/n

Summary : Captured as a hostage before the escape of the blacks, the princess of the realm could do nothing but finally hope for rescue while the color green enveloped her more and more in emotions that went far beyond hate and love.

info : yes yes the second season is coming up in a few weeks and even if the war about the two teams breaks out on the internet, both teams will be played here. So have fun and a peaceful read :)

masterlist

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

Ameond : The second prince of the realm, the prince after Daemon his uncle, the prince after his brother the king, the prince who was the sworn sword for his brother.

After the Blacks had retreated from King's Landing and Rhaenys had fled with her dragon, they had managed to lock a room so that she could not escape. ,,It seems your cousin has forgotten you,” came his words with a hint of scorn from his fine lips as he pushed aside the bar of the privacy screen and looked into the spacious room of his father's sister.

The former sole princess of the realm, handsome and beautiful, guarded the youngest of the three royal children at the time, only a few years younger than his uncle Daemon…and yet she surpassed everything in beauty. ,,Princess Rhaenys had to flee, I would have stopped her,” she said, giving him a warning look that they both knew would come to nothing as the violet of her eyes met his, his eyes flashing every time he saw her.

And he often did that the first few days they exchanged words, her knowing him rejected him, his teasing forcing her to react. He looked at her through the slit during the day and at night when she slept she could feel his gaze on her, fascination and ulterior motives.

Her nephew the prince, the son of her beloved brother king…and yet she had to thank him because it was apparently he who brought her out of her room one day. ,,A princess of the realm should not be left alone in her room,” he said and let her out, accepting her words of thanks with a grin before she moved forward through the castle, Ameond always behind her.

,,A hostage should always be watched, shouldn't she?” she asked as she walked with him into the garden, a place where she could finally feel the air, smell something different from the distress and finally see the sun with the sky, the sky where she once flew with her dragon Dreamfyre before it passed to Helaena…she had been passed over.

But these words amused Ameond even more she stood with her back to him but her eyes met violet again violet of lavender flowers. She did not escape him like a dragon guarding its blood relative and she would not get rid of him. She was almost at peace when she suddenly felt his hand on hers, not leather but skin on skin.

Moving around to yell at him to let her go, her eyes met a white rose and an expression that she didn't try to take over and control. He seemed honest. ,,A spirit of such beauty should be treated with gentleness or the dragon will come closer and closer and devour you, dear,” he replied and placed the rose behind her ear, his fingers running over the strands of her hair and she saw that sapphire flash again as she felt him kiss her.

She was no longer a hostage of the empire she was a hostage of his all this time she was a hostage of his senses…and now the dragon had devoured her the green had wrapped itself around her and never again would she see the black of her family.

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

Aegon ii : The crown on his head heavy with burden, war and worry. A war was at the gates of his now owned city and he was the king proclaimed by his mother dowager queen and grandfather…for his father had not wanted him to inherit all he was a dream long extinguished.

He knew that, the queen knew that, his brother knew that, his sister's wife knew that…everyone in his family seemed to know it, she knew it too. Every time he ran away a few months ago, every time he drank since forever and every time he hurried around since he was a boy, he wanted to get away from this throne and the inheritance he knew was forced upon him at best, but now that he realized how quickly sides could tilt at his coronation, he knew it was time to take a sword, saddle Sunfyre and give orders.

,,A playing card we have the sister of the rough prince, mother figure of my half-sister and my aunt” he had heard his words as he sat in the small council with his family and they discussed the plan.

His aunt was the only one who had ever shown him kindness, who didn't see him as a nobody…who held on to him and never gave up on him until now.

The look of her fascination at his actions made him want to say, This is my family, this green blood, it's not me but he had only given her a quick glance before leaving her room. ,,She hardly knows anything about the strategies like my insects say…but other methods might help,” he heard Lary's voice and saw his hand tighten around the walking stick.

Aegon had such thoughts, knew what could be done, knew that feelings could be used. That he had once used her, that he should have always seen her kisses as an encouragement after a night of tears and pain…but he had always felt more and now…no, he would not let her go-not when he now had something worth protecting besides his family and his children.

,,I'll personally take care of our dear hostage, she knows how to answer to a king and I know how to deal with maidens,” he murmured and rose from the table, ending the meeting for himself and yet knowing that his family was still talking…especially ignoring the punishing look of Aemond who had known for a long time and unlike their common mother did not ignore it.

But Aegon didn't care what his brother thought, he was the king and for the first time he would use this power given to him to do something, something he himself decided to do and he would not be taken advantage of. ,,Seeing you so quiet without a kind smile makes me sad aunt,” he greeted her, came into her chambers and found her sitting by the fire.

He saw that she was still wearing her clothes, the dark black, the red or gold a distant memory of her brother, her niece and her former king. A fact that Aegon disliked, he was king now, she should wear his clothes not those of his no good vile father.

He came closer to her and sat down by the fireplace looking at her face the same light hair as his a touch more silver and the violet looking grayish in the light and yet she was still beautiful. ,,Sad? Aegon I am a hostage the kingdom broken and my brother dead…for you I have no mercy” she replied and avoided his gaze looking instead into the flames that seemed her only warmth in these cold lonely times.

But Aegon saw it differently, ,,I am the king and if I don't want you to behave like this?” he replied with a question, coming closer to her but it was an empty threat an empty threat that surprised him when she suddenly turned to him.

The crackle of burning wood could be heard as their eyes met and he felt her cool hand on his cheek. It was her sad smile as she held him close at night, trying to help him through the withdrawal.

He wanted to escape her and at the same time wanted more, ,,Behave Aegon, you have always behaved as you please, I have no kindness but neither do I hate,” she murmured the calm words and even though he saw her resentment, pain and hatred for his family, it did not affect him.

A fact that disturbed him and made him vulnerable Keep your enemies and especially your friends away from you he faintly remembered the words of his torturer Larys who had told him this one day. Words that had no meaning until now…until now.

But now, as his hand lay on hers, he kissed it, allowing her closeness just for one last time, one last time, like the last few times they both knew. ,,You should hate me, though, because as your enemy you would do well to…it would do us both good,” he whispered before pulling her into a reluctant kiss one last time, even though she knew the door to her home would never open again, that he was watching over her, that the crown would protect her even beyond her brother's death.

Aegon would not leave her, he would stay with her, take her in, kiss her, possess her again to draw her into the green memories of the past when she had lulled him with good…but now it was the fiery green fabric of the green that slowly wrapped itself around her and held her to him forever until the end of this dragon dance.

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

Helaena : The new Queen of the Kingdoms, Helaena Targaryen the dreamer second daughter of Viserys the Peaceful and his second wife Alicent the now dowager Queen. A princess of the realm the wife of Aegon her husband her brother, her brother and the father of her three sweet children.

A queen who cared for her children, who occupied herself with her dreams and the crawling sounds of her insects only she seemed to understand. Detached from the small council she never attended, trying to find an answer in the words and signs seemed impossible, however, nothing since she felt the gaze of those eyes on her.

,,Seeing eyes envelop colors, one man's quiet is another man's joy too late when the wind catches us,” she said, seemingly suddenly in her room, looking from her embroidery to an unfinished flower before she felt the light touch of her mother still looking beside her. Unwanted and cold unknown and yet normal because she knew it. She didn't have to see her mother's dark eyes to recognize the worry and helplessness.

But above all, the new queen still felt something elriehcteurng. Relief after Rhaenys had fled, they had been able to take a ghost. The first and true princess of the kingdom, her own aunt, who had been imprisoned in King's Landing for weeks, probably knew that she would not be governed in the coming months.

,,Do you know what it means?” her mother dared to ask, but her daughters only shook their heads before silence fell between them again and Helaena still saw the only image in her mind - the image of the hostage. ,,Please take care of the three of them for a moment, mother,” she asked Alicent didn't wait for an answer in the end it was an order from the queen and they both knew it but Helaena wouldn't take advantage of her power just yet.

The queen's footsteps echoed through the corridors her cone did not grace her head the metal was too unfamiliar, too uncomfortable and too horrible.

But that didn't matter because she had something else she wanted to get to now, something she had to get to in order to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. ,,Come in,” she heard the muffled voice and stepped into the princess's large bedchamber, where she sat in her armchair with a book in her hand.

Helaena knew that others reproached the princess, her family the green ones ridiculed her for being so quiet, but the queen knew better. ,,My dear Helaena… you have seen it again” she hit the nail on the head, knowing why she had not come to her as she did almost every day, seeking her contact and closeness, her comfort, her voice and her answers.

The younger girl nodded, she still wasn't sure if her aunt had these dreams too or if she just felt it…but maybe that was why they were looking for each other. ,,It hasn't left me since Aemond did it, it's like a wind that will come over us,” she confessed and slowly sat down next to her on the wide armchair, paying attention to the books of kings and queens only for a moment before she looked into her aunt's violet eyes.

Helaena put her hand on her aunt's and saw that something was going on inside her, ,,This wind began to blow when the blood of your brother's husband touched your mother's hands,” she replied and Helaena felt a clarity as words slowly became something in the mist. It was a clarity her father had once told her about many years ago when he had once again taken an interest in her dreams, but that had passed.

The queen knew that she now had someone to help her who did not see her as something strange, ,,One lucidity from you my thanks is not enough for you in such a situation” she tried to make it easier for him knowing what it was like to be trapped, unheard and not taken seriously.

But in the end she knew that there was at least the two of them, that when Helaena needed her, her beloved aunt was always there for her, whether day or night.

She allowed her cheek to be touched and felt the older woman run her fingers over her now barely visible freckles again, the same loving laugh and warm gaze meeting Helaena's eyes. ,,I'm sorry,” slipped softly from the queen's lips as she pulled the older woman into a momentary embrace that wasn't cold and stiff, it was warmly welcoming and understanding.

,,I know Helaena…I will be too” the princess replied knowing in her own dreams that from now on the wind would not only take hold of her own body the power of the sword and dragon's deeds will drive Helaena to her death hand in hand with herself…but until then, whether as a ghost or still a proud princess, she would not accept her beloved and help her, for the thread of the green had long, long since been bored into her heart and would not let her go…she was bound to her queen by dreams and life.

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

Alicent : Once she was queen, once she was queen over the royal land and had power. Had power that she had never used, however, and if only in an area that was more harmful than anything in the shadows.

Alicent Hightower, not even half her age, had given up her crown again to her young daughter, hardly a young woman and with such a responsibility.

A thought the brown-haired woman disliked but that was the way it had to be…that was the way it had to be if she wanted to protect her family from Rhaenyra from her from the self-proclaimed Queen of Dragonstone and Westeros But Alicent herself she now seemed like a ghost of the past only for a moment she had been the most powerful woman of the lands with the death of Visery she had the full decision and what had she used it for?

She knew the answer, she had interpreted it with tears over a past pleasure that she would not get back and now knew that when she looked at her children, her Aegon, that he now had to protect his family and also her, that Helaena now brought children into the world and Aemond protected his siblings with his sword…but she had only protected and defended her children for the last two decades at what cost?

The price was those violet eyes full of understanding and no aversion, despite the fact that the eldest princess of the kingdom was in her power, she still looked at Alicent with understanding. How can she do it? the dowager queen asked herself the hours over and over again when she looked at the green fabric of the dress the question green her color the color of her house and yet she felt this aversion again.

Dislike in her family because this dislike resulted from her fear of not being able to protect the last thing she had left of herself. To lose herself, to lose her children….to lose her family that she had only tried to protect.

But perhaps these violet eyes of understanding were the reason why the former queen went to the princess. Maybe it was something else, or maybe it was just desperation - did that even matter in a kingdom?

Knocking and waiting for a short answer, she stepped inside and saw the woman standing in the ramp, apparently she had just come back in from the balcony of the bedchamber. ,,Do you miss our walks?” Alicnet asked immediately without thinking and immediately offered her something, not wanting her to feel bad, but she only got a slight shake of the head and a gentle smile.

,,No widow queen it's bearable I understand why” she assured the younger girl that everything was in order, even if she had a hostage she was a princess but both had advantages and disadvantages in such a situation. But this calmness seemed to drive Alicent crazy. why was she so in control, but not herself?

A question to which she had no answer, a question that caused the former queen to reach for the elder's hand and hold it, her dark eyes meeting the violet ones. ,,How? How can you take it all after everything?” the question came again faster than she thought, but the princess continued to hold Alicent's hand and slowly pulled her into a hug.

A hug like they hadn't hugged for years, loving, understandable when they were younger and the world was still in order. And then Alicent heard a sniffle and a shaky exhale, ,,I can't, not when I look into those brown, deeply hurt eyes Alicent my dear I just have to…for my family…and for you,” the princess finally confessed after what seemed like an eternity between them but she said it.

The truth was that they were both suffering from this war, unable to support their family and their loved ones who stood on the other side. Alcient put her hand on the cheek of the older one, their eyes looking at each other before she put her forehead against the other's, they held each other for a moment.

The scent of the candles and the smell of the bushes from the sacred places of the seven surrounded them, the scent that had always clung to alicnet and the light smoke and the scent of the princess's roses, the scent of the dragon that did not pursue the rose petals as a chosen symbol as the first princess of the realm.

Before the princess gave the widow queen a chaste kiss, a clear sign that it was all right for her to forgive her. A kiss that they had only exchanged a few times, a short chaste kiss of uncertain feelings and yet affection.

A sign that the black and green around them were tightening as the different colors on the dragon came closer and closer, killing each other one by one until there was nothing left of the one-time love they had ever shared.

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

Criston : The sword of the white queen for years, the teacher of metal for the king and his brother and the protector of the three royal children who never really had a father.

He was the leader of the bodyguard of the new green royal family, a sword that came into action when he was called, when he was ordered to do something and when he had to protect.

But a few months ago he had acted of his own free will, a fact that still leaves him with questions to this day. He had acted on his own initiative, having been ordered by the royal family to watch over them while he ran through the castle, sword in hand and a hunch that Rhaenys would have more on his mind than just escape and warning.

He couldn't get that look of pain, of betrayal out of her dark eyes, a look that pained him as his hand wrapped around her body and pulled her away from the balcony she was about to plunge down to land on the red dragon.

,,She belongs to me and she is my hostage, Princess Rhaenys disappears…I don't belong to any crown!” he had shouted at her and pulled her cousin back into the room, not wanting to grab her so roughly, but it was his own fear of losing her.

The first woman after Rhaenyra who had not taken advantage of him, who had not turned her own power and position against him…it was even stronger than his feelings for the dowager queen.

But it had worked, it had worked with the words of her cousin that the princesses withdrew, Meyleys relaxed and the princesses of the blacks disappeared.

But today, when his rounds took him back to her, the doubts came back to him: she was his hostage, the hostage of the green, and yet, apart from the pain, he saw no hatred, a fact that worried him.

,,Have you no other way to know Sir Criston?” her voice rang out and she peeked slightly out of her room or even her cell which was unlocked but escape was futile without a weapon or her dragon she would not get far. She was that smart but Criston knew she was smarter, she always had been.

The knight came to a stop in front of her door, the clatter of his armor breaking through the style, ,,Of course, but it's my duty to look after you princess,” he replied calmly, a look of peace hitting her he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Not after he had treated her so roughly. But a sad smile crept onto her lips and she glanced at his sword for a moment, ,,You look out for me yes-yes you do by making me your hostage,” she spoke out what had apparently destroyed the friendship, the feelings and the affection between them.

It was his fear of losing her to that stuck-up twat that he had hurt her. But just because his princess in the flesh was his hostage didn't mean it had to ruin everything, did it? Couldn't there be some kind of court, because he was a knight, a protector, she just had to understand that he had always protected her.

He saw her about to close the door again, but this time it was he who stood there again, not wanting to let her go, and put his foot between the door and the rattling of the armor could be heard again. ,,You know why I did it,” the knight defended himself with a shield of words knowing their feelings could cut deeper than any sword.

They both knew why he had done it which is why he stood here enruet his gaze fixed on her form his hands not on his sword, on his armor but on her waist holding her tight not wanting to let her go again ,,I know and…and that makes it all the worse to feel something like this in the middle of a war” she admitted admitting it was between them as she didn't back away not pushing him away knowing he wouldn't hurt her and yet it was right.

Was it right that she let him in, that he didn't close the door and that he didn't raise his sword against her when he wasn't even under control.

The kiss that was finally allowed, a kiss that was overdue, a kiss to erase her bitterness, a kiss from the knight who had sworn to protect her and would do so.

Even though his kiss had plunged into her body like a sword, her blood had turned from black to green and they were now more than just hostage and hostage taker.

He was now her own sworn shield, he was her personal protector and the man who would not only be her downfall and death in the end, but also the man who had always loved her.

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

[sachaa-ff]

Hi! Can I make a request for a Daemon x Sister reader oneshot (or series don't know how your request work lol). I'm thinking Viserys never married Aemma and has many children. But we find out at some point as Daemon fucks the reader that none of the children are Viserys but all of them are Daemons.

I totally get if you hate this idea, just a girl in live with Daemon taking any crumbs I can get lol.

Hi you are my first ever request 🫶🏼🥹

So I try something here.. it’s a bit short but if people like it I might turn it into a série like seeing when they were younger/during/after the children..

Tell me what you think

Request are open ❤️

Daemon Targaryen x sister reader

Legacy of fire and secret

In the grand halls of the Red Keep, the air was thick with tension. The court bustled with whispers of impending conflict, but in a secluded chamber, a different story unfolded—one of secrets and hidden desires.

You were the beloved sister of Viserys and Daemon Targaryen, married your older brother the to King Viserys at the age of 16. Your marriage, while filled with duty and respect, had never ignited the passion you craved. You bore seven children—three daughters and four sons—each a blend of Targaryen fire and your own spirit. They were spirited, wild, and carried the unmistakable mark of Daemon’s lineage, from the silver hair to the striking violet eyes. They filled your life with joy but also with the heavy burden of secrets.

Daemon had always been a source of both comfort and danger. From your earliest days, his wild spirit had captivated you. As children, you shared stolen moments, laughter echoing in empty halls. But it wasn’t until that fateful night that everything changed.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting silvery light through the window as you wandered through the quiet corridors of the Keep. You had just finished a long evening with Viserys, who had retreated to his chambers, exhausted by the weight of the crown. Sleep eluded you, and instead, you found yourself drawn to the warmth of Daemon’s presence.

You found him in the training yard, practicing with his sword, his movements fluid and graceful. The sight of him sent a shiver down your spine. “Daemon,” you called softly, and he turned, a grin breaking across his face.

“Come to watch me practice, sister?” he teased, wiping sweat from his brow, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

“Perhaps I came for more than that,” you replied, a playful smile tugging at your lips, your pulse quickening as he stepped closer.

“Is that so?” he said, stepping into your personal space, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “What else would you want from me?”

His teasing words wrapped around you like silk, igniting a familiar spark. “Maybe I just wanted to remind you how reckless you are,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted, but the tension in the air crackled with unspoken possibilities.

“Reckless is my middle name,” Daemon replied, his eyes glinting mischievously. “And you know you love it.”

As the moon climbed higher, you found yourselves drawn together, sharing secrets and laughter, as you had done so many times before. But this time felt different. The air was charged with unspoken words, and as he stepped closer, your heart raced.

“Why do you settle for a life of shadows?” Daemon asked, his voice low and intimate. “You deserve more than a king’s duty. You deserve passion, fire.”

His words ignited something within you, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, surrendering to the heat of the moment. The world outside faded away as you shared a kiss filled with longing and need. It felt reckless, dangerous—but also liberating.

That night changed everything. You knew you had crossed a line, yet in Daemon’s embrace, you felt alive in a way you hadn’t for years. The two of you slipped into a world of passion, hidden from the prying eyes of the court.

The days turned into weeks, and your secret meetings continued, each encounter more charged than the last. With each kiss and stolen touch, you found yourself falling deeper into a web of desire. You had become entwined in a dangerous dance, a secret world only the two of you inhabited.

As time passed, you realized you were pregnant. The thought sent your mind racing—how would you face Viserys? You had already borne three children Rhaenyra, Daerys and Rhaella, but this time felt different. The connection you shared with Daemon was undeniable and even stronger then before, and as your pregnancy progressed, you felt the weight of your deception more than ever.

When the time came, you gave birth to your first son, Aegon, followed by your daughter, Rhaena, then two more sons, Jaerys and Daemon II. Each child was a living testament to your love for Daemon, yet you presented them to Viserys as his own.

As your family grew, so did the tension. The kingdom seemed to sense the unrest, and whispers filled the court. Your children, all seven of them, were spirited and strong-willed—each one a reminder of the love you kept hidden. They laughed like Daemon, with their wild spirits shining through. But as much as you loved them, the burden of your secret grew heavier.

One evening, while the children played in the gardens, Daemon approached you, his expression a mix of mischief and seriousness. “You know they are mine as much as they are yours,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You felt your heart race. “They are Targaryens, Daemon. They are both of ours.”

“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you hide that truth like a secret sin.”

“Because it is a sin,” you replied, a rush of defiance in your voice. “What would Viserys think?”

“Viserys deserves the truth, as do you,” Daemon replied, his intensity unwavering. “You deserve to live without hiding in the shadows.”

His words resonated deep within you. “And what would you have me do? Tell him everything and tear our family apart?”

Daemon’s eyes softened. “We could build something new. A family that embraces the truth instead of living a lie.”

———————

The weeks turned into months, and the tension within your heart grew unbearable. The laughter of your children became both a comfort and a reminder of your deception. You often found yourself lost in thought, staring at the faces of your children, wondering what the future held for them and for you.

During a particularly stormy afternoon, Daemon visited the nursery where you sat with your children. They were playing, their wild laughter filling the room, but you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Daemon leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a soft smile. “They are beautiful,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“They remind me of you,” you replied, your heart swelling as you watched them. “Every day, I see your spirit in them.”

He stepped closer, the air between you charged with unspoken words. “What will you do when the storm clears? Will you stand with me?”

You met his gaze, the tension palpable. “I don’t know, Daemon. I want to protect them, but I also don’t want to lose everything.”

“You won’t lose me,” he vowed, stepping closer. “We’ll find a way to make this work. Together.”

Just then, Aegon ran over, tugging at your skirts. “Mother, can we go outside? The rain stopped!”

You smiled, ruffling his hair. “Of course, my love. Let’s gather your siblings.”

As the children dashed outside, you felt a momentary sense of peace wash over you. You watched them play, their laughter echoing in the courtyard, but the reality of your situation loomed overhead.

Later that evening, after the children were settled for the night, you found yourself alone with Daemon in the quiet of your chamber. The door was closed, but the tension in the air was almost tangible.

“Are you ready to confront Viserys again?” Daemon asked, his voice low.

You sighed, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know if I can. He’s been hurt, and I can see it in his eyes.”

“But he deserves to know that you still love him,” Daemon insisted, stepping closer. “You owe him that truth.”

“And what of you?” you countered, searching his gaze. “Do you think he can accept us?”

Daemon reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch igniting a spark. “If he loves you, he will find a way. But you must be honest with him.”

You felt your heart race at his closeness, the air thick with tension. “What if I can’t bear to see him hurt?”

“Then don’t think about that. Think about what we can create together,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “A family built on love and honesty.”

His words resonated deep within you, and before you knew it, you were in his arms again, surrendering to the fire that had always burned between you. The kiss was a promise, a vow to fight for what you believed in, no matter the cost.

Later this night, after a particularly difficult day, you found yourself unable to sleep. The weight of your secrets pressed down on you, and you slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb your husband. You made your way to Daemon’s chambers again, drawn by an irresistible pull.

He was waiting for you, leaning against the window, the flickering candlelight illuminating his sharp features. “You came,” he said, relief washing over his face.

“I couldn’t stay away,” you admitted, stepping closer, the storm outside a mere backdrop to the tempest within.

“Troubled?” he asked, studying your face.

“More like… torn,” you replied, the weight of your emotions spilling out. “I can’t keep living this lie.”

“Then don’t,” Daemon said, stepping closer, the space between you charged with electricity. ��Tell him the truth. We can face whatever comes together.”

His proximity made your heart race. “What if it shatters everything?” you whispered, looking into his intense gaze.

“Then we’ll rebuild,” he replied, his voice steady. “With our love as the foundation.”

You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours, pouring all your doubts and fears into that kiss. It was a promise—a vow to fight for the love you shared, no matter the cost. As you pulled away, breathless, you felt a sense of determination rising within you.

“Then we will fight,” you said, resolve hardening in your voice. “We will find a way to protect our children and claim our love.”

—————

The next day, as you prepared for dinner, your heart raced at the thought of what was to come. Would you be able to confront Viserys? As you laid in bed that night, the darkness enveloping you, you felt a surge of determination.

The following evening, you gathered the courage to speak with Viserys. The weight of your confession felt unbearable, but Daemon’s words echoed in your mind. You had to tell him the truth.

As you sat across from Viserys, the soft flicker of candlelight danced between you, and the weight of your secret felt insurmountable. “Viserys,” you began, your voice trembling. “There’s something I must tell you.”

He looked up, concern etched on his face. “What is it, my love?”

You took a deep breath, the truth burning on the tip of your tongue. “It’s about the children… and Daemon.”

Viserys’s expression shifted, confusion mingling with concern. “What do you mean?”

You steeled yourself, pouring your heart into the words. “They are not.. yours, Viserys. They are Daemon’s. Our love… it created them.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Viserys’s eyes widened in shock, and you could see the pain in his gaze as he processed your confession. “How could you—”

“I never meant to hurt you,” you interrupted, tears welling in your eyes. “But I cannot deny the truth. Daemon and I… we’ve always shared a bond deeper than I realized.”

Viserys sat back, his expression a mixture of disbelief and betrayal. “You chose him over me. Over our family.”

“It wasn’t a choice,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “It was something that happened—a connection that was always there. I tried to fight it, but I can’t hide anymore.”

Viserys’s face hardened, the hurt evident in his eyes. “You have betrayed me, and for that, I cannot forgive you easily.”

Your heart sank as the reality of your actions settled in. “Please, Viserys. I still love you.. it was just not enough... The children love you. This doesn’t have to end everything.”

As the weight of your words hung in the air, Daemon stepped into the room, his presence electric. The tension escalated as Viserys’s eyes narrowed at his brother.

“You,” Viserys spat, rising to his feet. “You’ve corrupted her.”

“Viserys, wait—” you tried to interject, but Daemon held up a hand.

“Let me speak,” Daemon said, his voice steady. “This was not just my doing. It was a shared choice, one that reflects the true nature of our bloodline. We are Targaryens, and we are bound by love and fire.”

Viserys’s expression was a mixture of rage and hurt, and you felt your heart breaking as you watched the man you once loved confront the man who had become your everything. “You think this is love?” Viserys said bitterly. “You’ve destroyed my family.”

“No, brother, it was never yours.. but mine” Daemon replied firmly. “We can build something new, one that embraces the truth instead of hiding from it. My children deserve to know their true heritage.”

The air crackled with tension as the three of you stood on the precipice of change. Viserys’s gaze flicked between you and Daemon, and you could see the struggle within him.

“Is this what you truly want?” he asked, his voice strained. “To tear apart what we built?”

You stepped forward, desperation flooding your voice. “I want us all to find a way to coexist. The children need both of us. They need love, not division.”

Viserys stared at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “And what of your love for him? How can I trust you again?”

“I will prove it to you,” you promised, your heart racing. “I will do whatever it takes to mend this. We can find a path forward.”

As you stood together, the three of you—once torn apart by secrets—now united by the truth, you felt a sense of determination rise within you. The journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, but with Daemon and Viserys by your side, you would face it together.

The following days were filled with tension and uncertainty. The court buzzed with rumors, and whispers about your family echoed through the halls. You took solace in your children, their laughter a balm for your troubled heart. Rhaenyra, Daerys, Rhaella, Aegon, Rhaena, Jaerys, and Daemon II were the light in your life, and you vowed to protect them at all costs, but maybe king’s landing wasn’t the best option to raised them and the way Daemon was looking at her make her understand that’s soon things will changed.. again.

[katakaluptastrophy]

So we all know how Ianthe became a Lyctor for “ultimate power—and posters of [her] face.”

And I'm sure someone made a nice icon.

But you know who would have definitely gotten a poster of their face? Coronabeth.

Think about it: every House but the Ninth has lost a scion. In a culture that thrives on melodrama and the conspicuous consumption of death, there is a wave of hysterical funerary fervour to mourn their lost leaders. And the Third - the House of glitz, trendsetting, and political intrigue - has lost its beloved Crown Princess.

We don't know a huge amount about funerals in the Nine Houses, but we do know a bit about Third House funerals:

The front coffin is distinguished from its fellows by its gorgeous arrangement of flowers and wreaths. The flowers are all in hues of gold or violet, and are fake. The coffin is hinged open at the front, with its contents hidden from view by the flowers. A tray of meat is rested on the closed bottom half of the coffin. A queue of gaudily masked mourners process past the coffin, slowly, each one taking a strip of meat, then stopping by the head to lean within—kissing or feeding; we can’t be sure. - TUG

Apparently, a Third House funeral - unsurprisingly for flesh magicians - focuses on the physical. The reverence of/fear of/(lust for?) the body. A wake on steroids. But they received no body for Coronabeth. So I can only imagine larger than life posters of Corona decked with flowers, the weeping crowds surging through the streets of Ida, etc etc... Poor Ianthe, second place once again to a 'corpse'.

Moving past Ianthe to House funerary customs in general, and to the awful aftermath of the Lyctor trials in particular, it seems especially unfair that neither of the flesh magic Houses got a body back to mourn. Obviously Corona wasn't actually dead, but for those who believed her to be, the lack of a body for such visceral funerary rights must have been traumatic.

We don't have as many details of Seventh funerals, but the House famous for it's "beguiling corpses" likely also focuses much of its post-mortem ritual around the body. Dulcie suggests that the deceased might even leave specific instructions in their will about the appearance of their corpse:

That drawing looked nothing like me. I loved it. You don’t know this so it doesn’t help, but I included it in my will and put down that I wanted to look like that after I died. I thought maybe it would give you a laugh at the funeral, you know? - TUG

Meanwhile, the Fourth, Fifth, and Eighth receive their perfect pairs of "statuesque and incorruptible" bodies, preserved beyond the wildest dreams of the Seventh. These Houses are all spirit magicians. The Fourth, for whom thanergetically detonating oneself on a battlefield far from the rays of Dominicus isn't unheard of, almost certainly have funerary rites that don't presuppose a body. And the Fifth, whose necromantic practice is far more concerned with the spirit than the body, likely centre their most significant funerary rites around the ghost.

Y'know, the bit they don't have? Just as the flesh magicians of the Third and Seventh would have been unable to mourn their lost scions with rites around the body, the Fifth would have been unable to call their ghosts, trapped in Harrow's River bubble.

So amidst all the grief and awfulness, and the Emperor refusing to answer any questions about what happened (why are they all dead? Why are so many bodies missing? Where are the ghosts? Why are the bodies so creepily perfect?), half the Houses can't even mourn their dead in the way they normally would.

[whoishotteranimepolls]

"Who's Hotter?" Disabled Anime Characters

Info regarding characters' disability below the cut because some are of the unseen variety, so spoiler warning read at your own risk.

Toph Beifong: Was born blind. After meeting badgermoles, earthbending animals who are also blind, she learned how to use earthbending as an extension of her senses. This allowed her to "see" every vibration that passed through the ground—giving her a combat advantage and making her one of the most powerful of her time. It also allowed her to to discover and create metalbending.

Edward Elric: Lost both an arm and a leg to alchemy and now has prosthetics. Ed became the youngest State Alchemist in history by achieving his certification at age twelve.

Shanks: Lost his sword arm when a Sea King ate it when he saved very young Luffy. He brushes it off as "just an arm" and continues his pirating activities as if nothing had happened. Shanks is actually known more for his bright red hair color than for his missing arm, which is a reflection of how common injuries like this are for pirates. Even with the loss of his dominant arm, he still went on to become one of The Four Emperors of the Sea and was the youngest person to hold that position. He's also considered the strongest of the current emperors. It's also inspiring that he's so badass; no one treats him any differently because of his disability

Nicolas Brown: A former mercenary who was born with exceptional strength but was also born deaf. Nicolas uses sign language to communicate, and while he can speak, the cadence of his voice reflects his inability to hear. If someone can't communicate with him, he ignores them. He has more important, badass things to do.

Jūshirō Ukitake: At age three, Ukitake was diagnosed with a potentially fatal lung condition that resembles tuberculosis. While this disease still causes him serious pain and suffering, this doesn't keep him from functioning as a valued member of the Soul Society. In fact, it's because he tried so many different medical treatments to heal his lung disease that he gained invaluable healing techniques that helped his comrades get through a violent war

Ayase Shinomiya: One of the protagonists of Guilty Crown lost the use of her legs sometime before the start of the series. She hates being pitied for this, going so far as to beat someone up for suggesting that he didn't want to cause trouble for her because of her disability. She's proud of her condition, claiming that her wheelchair is what makes her unique and that her only actual disability is dealing with other people's ignorance.

Fuegoleon Vermilion: A Magic Knight Captain who lost an arm defending the Capital from a cult. After spending time in a coma and with the help of the elemental Spirit of Fire, he gained the ability to summon a magic prosthetic made of fire. He has now returned to his position as the leader of the Crimson Lions and is one of the strongest wizards in the kingdom.

Shōko Nishimiya: Born mostly deaf, Shōko often faces difficulties in communicating and connecting with others, causing her issues during her childhood.

Violet Evergarden: A former soldier who not only carries the physical wounds of battle with the loss of both arms and the prosthetic she wears. But also the unseen mental trauma that can affect people's ability to move on.

[morganas-pendragons]

All That Time We Were Silent | Aemond Targaryen

This idea will not leave me alone. Violet Hill by Coldplay remains one of my favorite songs and I loved writing this concept for my first Aemond fic. Not to mention that every single Paris Paloma song is House of the Dragon coded. I don’t know. It makes me want to write a series for this pair (particularly one where SPOILERS SPOILERS Aemond dies at The God's Eye and it's this reader who kills him instead of Daemon -> put to The Fruits by Paris Paloma, because I have no self control and will use the same song and multiple different lyrics as titles)

The reader in this is female, and she's about two years older than Aemond. Also Rhaenys and Corlys' youngest daughter.

Anyway. This is set pre and post Rooks Rest with Velaryon!Reader, but it is Rhaenys’ daughter with Corlys because I can’t handle moms who lose all their children (ahem I’m looking at you Carol Peletier) 😭

***

"My sweet little dragon," Your mother caught your face in her hands, dark eyes staring down into your own as you stopped pacing in the halls of The Red Keep. It had only been mere hours since Alicent had delivered the news that your betrothal to Aemond was broken off. You were still so confused about why it had happened at all. Just mere days ago, you were gathering the courage to actually confess to Aemond how you felt. "Do not let that fire go uncontained."

"Mother-"

Rhaenys shook her head. Of her three children, you had always had the most spirit: You were far more likely than Laena and Laenor both to get yourself into trouble. You were the fire she believed would never stop burning.

"Listen to me. You are blood of the dragon, salt of the sea. You are a perfect split of myself and your father." Rhaenys hummed as she pulled you into her side, fingers gently winding through your hair as you hid your face in her shoulder. It was easy to forget that you were barely ten and eight. You also fiercely loved your parents. They were all you had left.

"I loved him, and she took him! What was wrong with me? What did I do?"

"I know. You did nothing. It is all the crown who pushes this upon you." Rhaenys knew better. She knew exactly why Alicent had taken it upon herself to split your betrothal to Aemond. You were getting too close. She couldn't have that happen to her precious son. "Above all, remember this. Fire can consume. That's what its purpose is. Please, sweetheart, do not let it take away those precious parts of you that the Hightowers have tried so hard to steal."

You often thought about how hard your mother tried to maintain your innocence after your brother and sister died. How your mother and father had trained you up as both salt and sea, fire and blood, determined that they would not lose another child while being involved with Rhaenyra's ascension.

Your mother had tried so hard to temper that anger down. It had worked, for a while.

Then Rook's Rest happened.

***

You found yourself positioned between Corlys and Rhaenys as Jace continued in his questioning of his mother after her sudden departure. Rhaenyra's explanation is as sound as she can make it - attempting for peace before plunging the realm into war - and you cannot find fault in her for going to see Alicent. The pursuance of peace is far more important then a war between dragons.

You dare not think about the end. How many dragons would be left?

How many people at this table would still be breathing?

"Cole's victories have only emboldened him." Rhaenys remarked. "He marches on Rook's Rest."

"Why Rook's Rest?" Rhaenyra questioned. "After Duskendale? It's but a small coastal keep."

You're not paying much attention to the remarks of old men spread across the table. You're not a strategist, not by any means, but you are itching for the opportunity to meet Aemond in the field. You have the second largest claimed dragon besides your mother, and you have the most experience in flight. You are a dragon rider.

You are capable of this.

More than anything, you want to make him pay for what he did to you. For how he hurt you. You want him to remember the pain you endured and the way he'd abandoned you. Left alone to face the phantoms remaining inside a little cliffside house by the sea. You'd visited it far more times then you cared to admit after your betrothal had been broken off.

You want to turn his silence - which has spread across the years, as the Prince has not attempted to send ravens since just before Viserys died - into begging, into screams that echo across a scorched battlefield as you plunge your sword into his heart.

It's the least of what he deserves.

"Send me." Jacerys interjected. Your heart sank as you watched the Prince's attempts at negotiating with his mother, eager to serve and eager to fight.

Rhaenyra would never let the loss of another son stand.

"No." Rhaenyra snapped.

"I will burn Coles lines and withdraw before King's Landing can raise the alarm-"

"You lack the experience."

You cleared your throat and stepped out of your space between your mother and father. "I will go," You said firmly. "I have the second largest dragon here besides Meleys and have experience. Nightshade was actively in battle prior to me claiming her. I also am able to evade Vhagar and Aemond. It could be a potential opportunity to take Aemond out of the-"

"No." Rhaenys' voice is clear and sharp as she stepped into your space, firm hand resting on your shoulder as your father nodded his confirmation of your mother's statement. "You must send me, Your Grace. Meleys is your largest dragon and no stranger to battle. I will meet Cole."

Both Corlys and yourself watched Rhaenys meet Rhaenyra's eyes before she released you from her grasp and began her pace toward the Dragon Mont. You could tell Rhaenyra did not want her Hand to depart.

You did not wish your mother to go either. Not with such threat of death looming over her.

"Mother!"

Rhaenys turned to gaze at you over her shoulder. Donned in her ceremonial armor and crown, The Queen Who Never Was softened at the sight of her daughter as you stormed into the Dragon Mont. Meleys whined at the sight of you. She could always acutely feel her rider's fierce devotion to her children. "Do not argue with this," Rhaenys said. "I will not let you meet your end in battle when you are the future of our House. Stay here, defend Rhaenyra, attend to your duty as a Targaryen. Do you understand me?"

"But Aemond-" You interjected, pausing as she reached underneath her shoulders and unfastened her cloak, tightening it around you until the dragon clasped just beneath her neck. You shuddered and leaned forward to rest your head on her shoulder. You would've been lying if you said you weren't terrified. "Please, Mother. Please come back."

Rhaenys smiled and tilted your head forward to press a kiss upon the crown, tightening her cloak around your shoulders before turning to Meleys. "We're off to battle again, old girl." She whispered. Identical eyes met your own before she grabbed the side of her saddle. "My littlest dragon..."

It was only then she remembered how young you were. How alone you were.

"Mother?"

"Avy jorrāelan, my Princess."

Tears burned your eyes as Meleys roared and took off through the mouth of the Mont.

You never saw her again.

***

Rhaenys turned her back to gaze upon Vhagar as Sunfyre descended and fell into the woods. It would've been the perfect opportunity to turn back. To retrieve you from Dragonstone, to have two of Rhaenyra's largest dragons take flight against Vhagar would nearly guarantee a victory for the Black Queen.

She did not do either.

The Queen Who Never Was ordered her dragon to attack, tied herself into her saddle, and took off through the smoke that had settled over Rook's Rest.

She dare not dwell upon her own memories of this dragon she was about to face. About Laena claiming Vhagar, about your first ride upon both Vhagar and Meleys, about your own claiming of Nightshade... of Laenor and Laena.

The nights she'd spent upon the window waiting for Corlys to come home, all three of her children with her.

She dare not dream of home.

***

"Do you ever wish it for us?"

"Wish what?" You asked, twirling your fingers through the ends of Aemond's hair where his head rested upon your chest. "All I wish for us is to take our dragons to the ends of the earth and spend the rest of my life indulging in the finest chocolates and wine with the man I love. That is what I wish."

Aemond snorted and curled himself deeper into your side. "To be able to properly express our love. I don't think my mother will ever let it happen. This. Us. She won't let it continue. Not with the threat of Rhaenyra sitting the Iron Throne-"

"I don't want to think about Rhaenyra, Aemond." You murmured. "I want to think about you and me. That's a far happier memory then to dwell upon all the times The Stranger has descended upon my family. I will not let the Gods take what we have from me too."

Aemond tried not to think of you when Vhagar descended upon Meleys, teeth clamped firmly into her neck while the other dragon roared.

He tried not to think of all the times he'd seen you with this dragon himself, with Vhagar, all the times he'd had those precious words on the tip of his tongue when he watched your joy in the face of such terrifying beasts.

If you love me.. won't you let me know?

Aemond could not risk it. Admitting to his growing feelings, his growing adoration, gave his mother another weapon to use against him. You were far too good of a thing in his life for Aemond to be okay with Alicent weaponizing that.

That had been why she'd broken off the betrothal. It wasn't her idea.

It was his.

If you love me, why'd you let me go?

He tried not to think of you as the world was enveloped in fire, and he tried not to think of you as he watched the Red Queen descend into the castle at Rook's Rest. She did not get back up.

He was told The Queen Who Never Was died that very same day.

***

It was Baela who delivered the news to you.

"Auntie?"

You turned your head to acknowledge the Princess and smiled, beckoning her deeper into your chambers. "Enter, sweet girl." The peace that had fallen upon you in your time waiting for your mother to come home dissipated once you recognized the tears brimming in Baela's eyes. "What is it?"

You tightened your fingers in your mother's cloak as Baela broke the news. You expected to be much more upset. Devastated. What you felt instead was that same anger that your mother had spent years tempering in you begin creeping to the surface. You were most certainly not your father and mother's daughter.

Maybe that anger came from deeper in your family line. Maybe it was generational. Maybe all Targaryens harbored anger like this.

"She died a warrior." You murmured. You wanted to believe that. You did believe that. Your mother would have fought valiantly against whatever foe dare face her. "She died a true dragon rider. We can only wish the same for ourselves."

"What is to be done now?" Baela asked.

Your thoughts automatically went to your father. Your father, waiting for a wife who would never come home. Your father residing upon the Driftwood Throne in a castle that would resemble a tomb, for none of its occupants remained. They were all dead. All that remained of them was their memory.

"I need to go home. To see your grandsire," You said quietly. "The loss of my mother will devastate us both-"

"Has it not already?"

You had to consider her question thoroughly before being able to answer it. When your brother and sister had died, it had taken you a significantly longer period of time than your mother and father to adjust. To be able to properly allow yourself to grieve. How was there time for the luxury of grief when the obligation of being the Heir to the Driftwood Throne was being pressed down upon you?

"Not yet. My anger will get the better of me first." You sighed and squeezed the girl's shoulders before releasing her. "And then the grief will surely follow."

***

Rhaenyra called you into the room with the Painted Table some hours later. You were not ready to hear her. Just as you'd said, Baela watched Rhaenyra attempt to offer consolation and comfort in the face of your mother's loss.

This was, in your words, three people that Rhaenyra Targaryen had taken from you. You would not allow your father to be the next.

"Princess-"

"No!" You yelled. All the voices in the room died as Rhaenyra's head snapped upward, blue eyes meeting your own from across the painted table as you stormed forward. "I refuse participate in a war like this one. I don't care if your legitimacy has been contested. My mother was the only reason I allowed for myself and Nightshade to take part. I will not risk the future of my House or my dragon for the sake of the Iron Throne."

You knew you were being irrational. It was easier to be irrational and angry for the loss of your mother and direct it at Rhaenyra then come to your second most devastating realization: Despite how much you still loved Aemond, you were going to have to be the one to kill him. You were going to have to be the one to kill him because he was the one who took your mother from you.

Right now, you had one goal in mind. One that you fully intended to see it through.

"Princess, where are you going?"

"Home. I'm going back to Driftmark to deliver news to my Lord father of the passing of my mother. It needs to be me."

"And if the Queen has need of you?"

You flippantly waved your hand over your shoulder. "Don't! The only time you need to have me involved, Your Grace, is when you need someone who can successfully face Aemond and Vhagar. When that happens, I want to be the one to end it." You turned back around in the hallway to stare at the Black Queen's Council, your nieces and nephews, the Queen Who Had Yet To Be. "He killed my mother. I want retribution for that act."

You'd rather she be the Queen Who Never Was. If anyone deserved the right of being Queen, it was Rhaenys.

"When it's time to kill Aemond, it should be me. Call upon me then. Until that point comes? You are on your own."

[authors note: I'm seriously considering adding a second part just for the fact that I have GOT to write Seasmoke claiming Addam LOL]

[thewitcheslibrary]

Beltane

The date of the holiday: 1st may

History: Beltane is derived from the Celtic term Baal or Bel, which meaning "Bright One." As farmers prepared to shift their livestock from winter pastures to summer grazing in the hills, they sought protection and abundance from the gods by starting fires and herding cattle through the flames to the summer grazing fields. This was thought to protect the herd from attack while also increasing fertility.

In more practical terms, these bonfires were most likely used to burn brush heaps and clear space for planting and pastureland. In the home, hearth fires were extinguished and replaced with flames from Beltane bonfires. People often walked the perimeters of their properties or towns to evoke additional protection for the next year. Yellow flowers were used to decorate doorways, windows, and even cattle during Beltane.

Like all of the Wheel of Year sabbat celebrations, Beltane was a time for merry making and feasting.  People would write a wish upon a ribbon and tie it a to a tree, in the hopes that the gods would grant them.  Hawthorn, ash, thorn and sycamore trees were believed to be the best trees for making wishes.   

Dew gathered on Beltane was thought to have special properties for increased beauty and youthfulness. 

Beltane and sexuality- SLIGHT NSFW WARNING!

Part of Celtic Beltane beliefs revolved around the holy union of the God and Goddess, which people celebrated by having sex on Beltane. Usually outside, to further connect with nature. Children conceived at Beltane (and hence born at Imbolc) were regarded to belong to the Goddess, and were commonly referred to as'merry-be-gots', with a particular tie to the faerie world. Beltane, like Samhain, was a period when the curtain between the worlds became thinner, allowing ghosts to pass through. Unlike Samhain, the visiting ghosts were not looking for a feast or a quick chat with relatives. The spirits of Beltane were considered to be seeking reincarnation or sexual intercourse.

The topic of sexuality runs throughout Beltane. The Maypole, which maidens usually adorn and celebrate, is a phallic emblem signifying masculine strength, whereas the cauldron represents female power. Women who desired to produce a child would start a small fire, place the cauldron on it, and then leap over it.

To go Maying, or picking flowers and other flora in adjacent woodlands, was associated with casual sex in the woods. There was no stigma connected with out-of-wedlock marriage, and hand-fasting was prevalent, in which two individuals bonded together for a year and a day. Beltane activities such as the Maypole were forbidden by the Puritans in parts of Great Britain in the 17th century, owing in part to their overt sexuality.

END OF THE NSFW -

Symbols of beltane-

Colors:  White, dark green, red 

Foods:  Dairy foods, honey, oats, mead, lamb  

Stones:  Sapphire, blood stone, emerald, orange carnelian, rose quartz  

Symbols:  Goat, honeybee, cown, fairies, pegasus, rabbits, flower crown, maypole, basket  

Flowers & Plants: Primrose, lilac, hawthorn, birch, Rosemary, Ivy, woodruff, rowan, violet, alfalfa, cedar, peppermint lavendar 

Deities: Aphrodite, Artemis, Freya, Rhiannon, Apollo, Bel/Belnos, The Great Horned God, BÓand/Boann 

Setting intentions during this time-

Beltane has traditionally been a fertility celebration. However, if you don't have infants in mind, that's OK! Beltane is an excellent opportunity to reflect on creativity and success. Beltane is the moment to follow through on your objectives from Imbolc and Ostara. Perhaps you've been thinking about launching a company; Beltane is the time to set an appointment with the bank and inquire about finance. Perhaps you've been writing a book and now it's time to contact publishers or locate an agent. Beltane, with its promise of harvest and fruitfulness, is a time to take inspired action and be confident.

Ways to celebrate-

Chose one of the deities listed above and honour them in some way, yes even if you dont work with them. You can still celebrate them and wear or do things associated with them, just do so respectfully! Eat some of the foods associated with beltane! Even if you just eat a bowl of oats with honey for breakfast, its a good and simple way to celebrate. And its perfect if you can't openly celebrate, it just looks like your enjoying some food. You could also drink peppermint tea!

Wear some of the colours and carry the stones and gems around with you during this day. You can incorporate both colour magic and crystal magic by doing this and is also just easy to hide and do subtly! - everyone wears clothes (hopefully) and you can just say you are collecting rocks and crystals because you find them cool! - Flower crowns can be incorporated into outfits too.

Buy flowers or make a bouquet with the flowers associated with the holiday! They will make your space or altar look colourful, and flowers are pretty. This isnt as easy to hide, but if people do ask you can tell them you just liked them and treated yourself!

Set aside time for some self care - treat yourself to a special meal, music, aromas - whatever make you feel special!- with this you could use the plants, herbs, crystals, candles in the colours associated with them and some drawn symbols and put together a ritual bath! - bit of a clean up after but again its somewhat easy to hide

some less subtle way to celebrate.

Hold a bonfire for family and friends 

Take action on a project you’ve been working on 

Decorate a tree with colorful ribbons that represent your wishes for the coming year 

Make flower crowns 

Walk your property and give thanks and ask for protection in the coming year 

Decorate your home yellow flower wreaths, bouquets or garlands

[novaursa]

Crown of Fire

- Summary: Aegon didn't conquer Westeros because of the prophecy. He did it because of you. And it started as a child’s game. 

- Note: Events that transpired in this short story happened before The Broken Crown.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

The sun was high in the sky, casting warm, golden light over the cliffs of Dragonstone. The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks below, mingling with the calls of seabirds that circled overhead. The children of House Targaryen played in the castle’s courtyard, their laughter bright and free as only youth could be. Visenya, the eldest, was a blur of silver hair and dark armor as she sparred with one of the guards, her movements fluid and fierce. At fifteen, she was already a formidable warrior, wielding Dark Sister as if the Valyrian steel blade were an extension of herself.

Aegon, at fourteen, watched her with his usual calm intensity, a faint smile on his lips. He was tall for his age, his face still carrying the soft lines of boyhood, though his violet eyes spoke of a seriousness beyond his years. Rhaenys, all of thirteen and full of boundless energy, had draped herself dramatically over the carved stone bench nearby, pretending to swoon at the sight of Visenya’s prowess.

But it was you, the youngest at ten, who caught Aegon’s gaze more often than not. You, with your bright laughter and infectious spirit, darting around the courtyard like a flame that couldn’t be contained. Your silvery hair whipped around your face as you twirled, a makeshift crown of wildflowers slipping down to rest lopsided on your brow. You had always been their little sunbeam, the one who could draw a smile even from Visenya’s stern lips and make Rhaenys’ endless schemes seem tame in comparison.

“Aegon, come play!” you called, running up to him and tugging at his sleeve. He looked down at you, a rare, soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he set aside the practice sword he’d been holding.

“And what game would you have us play today, little sister?” he asked, his voice gentle in a way that he used for no one else.

You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s play kings and queens!” you declared, hopping from one foot to the other. “I’ll be the queen, of course. And you all have to be my subjects.”

Rhaenys laughed, clapping her hands. “I shall be your loyal knight, Your Grace,” she said with a mock bow, her face alight with amusement.

Visenya, pausing in her training, raised an eyebrow. “And who do you imagine will be your king, then?” she asked, her tone teasing.

You pursed your lips, pretending to think deeply. “Hmm… I suppose I’ll have to marry one of the kings of Westeros.” you said, a playful glint in your eye. 

Rhaenys burst out laughing, and even Visenya cracked a smile. “Which one, little sister?” Rhaenys asked, her eyes dancing with amusement. “The fat one in the Riverlands, or the one in the North who always looks like he swallowed something sour?”

You thought for a moment, then raised your chin, mimicking the haughty tone of the court ladies you’d seen at Dragonstone. “Maybe the King of the North! They say Starks are very handsome.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the air change. It was subtle, but you noticed. Aegon’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. You were too young to understand the depth of his feelings then, but you knew how to get a rise out of him, and his reaction made your heart beat a little faster.

“Why would you want to marry a Stark?” he asked, his voice a touch too steady. “The North is cold and bleak. You wouldn’t like it there.”

You shrugged, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But if I’m to be a queen, I must marry someone important, no?” you said, your tone light and teasing. “Unless… unless you mean to conquer the kingdoms yourself, brother. Then I would have no need to marry anyone else. I could be queen, and you could be… king.”

There was a pause, a moment where the world seemed to still around you. Aegon’s gaze locked onto yours, something fierce and unspoken flickering in his eyes. He reached out, almost unconsciously, and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

“Maybe I will, then,” he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear. “Maybe I will conquer them all. So that you’ll never have to leave.”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. It was a game, wasn’t it? A child’s dream, nothing more. But something in the way he looked at you made your heart flutter strangely, a feeling you didn’t yet have a name for.

“Don’t be silly, Aegon,” you said, trying to laugh it off. “You can’t conquer the whole world just for me.”

But the look he gave you then was one you would remember long after, a look that promised he would do exactly that, and more, if you asked it of him.

“I would conquer it all,” he said, his voice steady, “just to see you smile.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your blush as you spun away, your laughter echoing around the courtyard. “Then I’ll be waiting, King Aegon,” you called over your shoulder, skipping away to join Rhaenys in her dramatics.

But even as you played, your words had already taken root in Aegon’s mind, planting a seed that would one day grow into a fire that would consume the Seven Kingdoms.

He watched you, his little sister, his beloved Y/N, and knew, even then, that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side. He would break any betrothal, defy any tradition, and, if necessary, lay waste to the entire continent, just to make sure you were his and his alone.

The game might have ended that day, but Aegon’s resolve had only begun to form. And though you couldn’t know it then, your innocent words had set in motion a chain of events that would shape the history of Westeros forever.

Aegon I Targaryen, the first of his name, stood atop the hill, surveying the devastation below. The smell of smoke and blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the dying. His armor, blackened and scorched, bore the marks of battle, but he felt no pain, no weariness. Only a cold, relentless purpose.

He had begun this conquest with fire and blood, and he would end it the same way.

The Seven Kingdoms had once seemed so distant, disparate lands ruled by petty kings and warlords, their power fractured and fleeting. Yet now, as he gazed across the smoking ruins of Harrenhal, the shattered stronghold of House Hoare, he felt the inevitable weight of destiny settle upon his shoulders. This was his, all of it, as he had always known it would be. And he would bind it together under one rule—his rule.

But even as he claimed victory after victory, his mind kept drifting back to a single thought, a promise made long ago in the carefree days of childhood.

You.

He had known since that day, when you had teased him with talk of kings and queens, that he would never let you go. He had watched you grow from the lively, carefree child who danced through Dragonstone’s halls, to a fierce young woman whose spirit shone brighter than any flame. You were his joy, his anchor, the one thing in this world that made him feel truly alive. And he would not let you be taken from him—not by anyone, not even by duty.

The other kings of Westeros had fallen one by one before him. The Reach and the Riverlands had bent the knee. The Ironborn were broken. Dorne remained stubbornly defiant, but they would come to heel in time. Yet the North… the North was different. Stark men were proud, unyielding. Torrhen Stark had sent word of his intent to negotiate, to discuss terms, and with it, a reminder of the betrothal promised long ago—a political arrangement meant to solidify alliances.

Aegon’s grip tightened on Blackfyre’s hilt at the thought, his knuckles white beneath the leather. Torrhen Stark, King in the North, dared to speak as if the arrangement still held weight, as if he could claim you as his own. The very idea made something fierce and possessive rise within him, a dark flame that burned hotter than dragonfire.

He remembered your face the day your father had first mentioned the match, the way you had looked at Aegon, eyes wide and uncertain, seeking his reaction. He had said nothing then, merely turned and left the hall, his silence a mask for the storm raging within him. He had known even then that he would never allow it, but he had let the betrothal stand for a time, waiting, biding his moment.

That moment was now.

Aegon closed his eyes, the din of battle fading to a distant hum as he focused inward. He saw your face, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of dreams and adventures. He remembered the softness in your voice when you spoke of the future, how you had confided in him your fears and hopes. You were not meant to be some lord’s prize, bartered and traded for power. You were meant to rule, to stand beside him as his equal, as his queen.

His resolve hardened. The North would bend, just like the rest. Torrhen Stark would come before him, crown in hand, and he would kneel. But not as a suitor. As a subject. He would relinquish any claim he thought he had to you, or he would face the wrath of Balerion’s flames. There was no compromise, no room for negotiation.

The betrothal would be broken. You would not be sent away, not to the frozen wasteland of the North, not anywhere. You would be here, with him, where you belonged.

And then, when the last of the kings had bent the knee, when the Seven Kingdoms were his and his alone, he would turn to you. He would take your hand and look into your eyes, and you would see that this—all of this—had been for you.

He could already imagine the scene, the way you would look at him, the disbelief that would give way to understanding, to the same fierce love that burned in his own heart. You had resisted him for so long, pushing him away, keeping him at arm’s length even as you had grown closer to his sisters. He knew it was because of that broken promise, the shattered dream of freedom that he had taken from you. But he would show you that this was the only way, the only path that would ever make sense.

The thought of you—of your stubborn defiance, your laughter, the fire in your eyes—gave him strength as he turned back to his men. The conquest was not yet finished. There were still battles to be fought, crowns to be claimed, and a future to secure.

But soon, soon he would return to Dragonstone, to you. And when he did, he would take you in his arms and tell you the truth of it all. That every kingdom he had claimed, every battle he had fought, had been for you. That he would burn the world itself if it meant keeping you by his side.

He mounted Balerion with a fluid grace, feeling the great beast’s muscles coil beneath him, the heat of the dragon’s breath warming his legs through the scales of his armor. The conquest would go on, and he would crush any who stood in his way. But his heart, his mind, his very soul, were already set on the moment he would return to you, victorious.

He would place the crown upon your head, not as a gesture of power, but of devotion. He would marry you, not because of duty or tradition, but because you were his, and he was yours, bound together by a fire that could never be quenched.

And if anyone tried to take you from him—be it Stark, Lannister, or even the gods themselves—he would unleash hell upon them all. Because you were his queen, his beloved Y/N, and he would let the world burn before he let you go.

[maxispremades]

Лесли Холланд, «Бывших ŌΔĘpЖЙΜЬΪХ не бывает». Черновые наброски.

Глава 5. ∏pЙМĶĤЙ Ķ ĤĀМ ß ĶpĀТĘpĘ

Глава 6. ΜĀŦþ ՅĤĀĘŦ ßČĚ

Эрвин никак не хотел оставить меня в покое и постоянно норовил надеть мне на голову дуршлаг. Говорил, что это перекроет доступ «сиксимских пси-операторов» к моему мозгу. А я к тому времени уже почти полностью забыла, кто такая эта ваша Лесли Холланд!.. Днем — жила на автопилоте, кое-как притворялась обычным персонажем, с трудом выслушивая глупую болтовню Элис с Марком и бред Эрвина. А ночью — оживала, распускаясь прекрасным и сильным цветком в окружении себе подобных.

С того времени прошло уже несколько лет, но до сих пор мне почти каждую ночь снится кратер. Снятся фиолетовые вихри над ним, снится подвал лаборатории, куда могли входить лишь избранные — приближенные нашего мэра, в числе которых была и я. Снится сочная красная плоть необычных фруктов. Снится сама ΜĀŦþ, ее мясистые листья и мощная шея, увенчанная хищным бутоном — змея, гипнотизирующая кроликов. «ĀЙßЍ, — зовет ŌĤĀ меня, — ∏pЍΜЍ ΜŌЍ ΔĀpЬΪ, Ѝ ßČĔ ĤĀλĀΔЍŦČЯ. ĤĘ ČŌ∏pŌŦЍßλЯЙČЯ».

english text below the cut

Leslie Holland, "Once a ƤØŞŞ€ŞŞ€Đ one, always a ƤØŞŞ€ŞŞ€Đ one". Drafts.

Chapter 5. ĴØIŇ UŞ IŇ ŦĦ€ ĆŘΔŦ€Ř

Chapter 6. ŦĦ€ ΜØŦĦ€Ř ҜŇØŴŞ ΔŁŁ

Erwin wouldn't leave me alone and kept trying to put a colander over my head. Said it would cut off "Sixam psyops" access to my brain. And by then I had almost completely forgotten who Leslie Holland was. During the day, I lived on autopilot, somehow pretending to be an ordinary sim, barely listening to the stupid chatter of my housemates and Erwin's bullshit. And at night, I came to life, blossoming into a beautiful and strong flower surrounded by my own kind.

A few years have passed since then, but I still dream about the crater almost every night. I see the violet swirls above it, I see the basement of the lab, where only a select few could enter — our mayor's familiars, of which I was one. I see the juicy red flesh of bizarre fruits. I see ΜØŦĦ€Ř herself, Ħ€Ř fleshy leaves and powerful neck crowned with a predatory bud — a snake hypnotizing rabbits. "ƗV¥," ŞĦ€ calls to me, "ΔĆĆ€PŦ Μ¥ ǤI₣ŦŞ ΔŇĐ ΔŁŁ ŴIŁŁ β€ Ŵ€ŁŁ. ĐØ ŇØŦ Ř€ŞIŞŦ Μ€."

poses by @snarky-sims-creations (strangerville mystery), @fenrir77 (drunken sofa), @akuiyumi (uncertainty), @rattrait (free spirit)

[aemondsquill]

Love in The Dark

Evil!King! Aemond Targaryen × Fem!Reader

Synopsis: what if aemond becomes king? And what if he's completely evil?

Warnings: Aemond is straight up a villain, murder + mass murder, imprisonment, heavy angst, major character deaths, lmk if I missed any

Things were quiet in the Red Keep after Aemond was crowned King. Servants and guards kept their eyes to the ground whenever they were graced with the King's unfortunate presence, terrified they too would be burned for glancing at him wrong.

One year into his rule, Aemond proved to be a fearsome King, not only to his enemies but to the very citizens of his kingdom. Mass graves were dug and subsequently filled with anyone deemed traitors to the Crown. Men, women, children. King Aemond's lust for blood was insatiable. It is often whispered that he murdered his own nieces and nephews after his brother, Aegon, disappeared from the Realm. Rumors say he fled across the Narrow Sea to escape his responsibilities. Perhaps he was the only Targaryen with sense.

The anxiety and paranoia are no strangers to the royalty of the Keep either. If one was to watch Aemond's Queen closely they could see her fingers tremble in fear constantly. His beautiful bride is often confined to her chambers with illness thought to be brought on by the stress of having a tyrant for a husband.

The Queen had become a former shell of herself. While she still dressed in finery and had not a hair out of place, her eyes were dull and lifeless. They were constantly rimmed red from the weeping. Behind her back, the nobility dubbed her "The Weeping Lady", as she was frequently seen wandering the vast, cold halls with cheeks wet with tears. The chill in the halls was a more welcome and tender presence compared to Aemond's.

Another day in Court meant another day witnessing Aemond's depravity. It was difficult to admit just how dashing he looked upon the throne. The Conqueror's Crown sat upon his long white tresses. His eye held no emotion except a dash of madness deep within the violet iris. His body was adorned in a rich velvet tunic of black and green. The Weeping Lady stood a few steps below him, spirit broken and heart aching at the injustice.

"Take his hands." The King ordered his guards coldly. The nobility watched on as this poor commoner begged and pleaded against the arms of the guards. His wails echoed in the throne room.

Bones crunched painfully under the dull blade of the axe. His skin split more and more under each wack. Blood poured out onto the red-stained floor of the throne room. It took the axeman four sloppy strikes to remove the peasant's hands from his body. It is rumored that the axeman is nearly always inebriated. Doling out vile punishments cost him his sanity so he fell victim to the drink. The deafening sobs and screams pierced the stifling atmosphere. Lords and Ladies averted their gaze to the ground, some attempting to cover their ears and hide their tears.

The man is dragged out and his cries follow him.

Several hours of Aemond's depravity occurred before court was adjourned. The Queen fled to her chambers immediately, trembling and nauseated. She knew she had to pull herself together before secretly visiting her mother, rotting in a cell deep below the Red Keep.

----

Two heavy coin purses weighed down her pockets as she descended down into the Black Cells. The coin purses would grant her entrance passed two guards who kept a watch out for nefarious activities. With the coin, they looked the other way once per week and allowed the Queen to visit her mother.

----

"Hello, sweetling. It's been too long since you have graced me with your presence" muttered Rhaenyra. She stood up from the darkest corner of her cell and made her way to the little opening in the door.

"I apologize, mother. It's been difficult to leave without my husband noticing as of late" the Queen replied. Her gaze was sorrowful as she took in the dilapidated appearance of her mother; once dressed in the finest satins and silks money could buy, now reduced to rags. Once pristine white Targaryen locks were now grayed and filthy from the grime of the cell. Her eyes of lavender were lackluster and tired, tired of being reduced to a common criminal rotting in a cell while a usurper warms her throne. Her cheeks were gaunt and it was evident that malnourishment was ravaging her body. No amount of sweets snuck in by her daughter would aid her ailing physique.

"Are you tending to the sores, mother? I will have to bring you more medicine during my next visit" pondered the Queen. Her mother shook her head, "tis nearly impossible to do so in this fucking cell" she growled.

"I know. I'm sorry. You know that this was not my decision. He will not hear my pleas, not even for his own mother" I whispered.

"Your cunt of a husband is blinded by his rage and greed. He has already caused the downfall of our great House. The guards speak of his depravity. Has he been cruel to you as well, my love?"

"He has not been cruel to me. More indifferent most of the time. Rarely he is as he was when we were first betrothed; sweet and attentive. I cannot bear his touches, not after witnessing such monstrosities" the Queen whimpered. Tears leaked down her cheeks and her chin quivered. Memories from their time as new lovers flooded her mind. He was so sweet. Bringing her flowers and sweets, hiring harpists to serenade her while he was away. His tender touches and warm eyes full of adoration slowly burned away with the weight of the Conqueror's Crown.

"Not even the Mother will have mercy upon his soul. His crimes are heinous. Sweet girl, it pains me to even ask this of you, but it is for the good of the Realm and for you. His actions reflect on you, should there be an uprising by the smallfolk, you'll burn with him" the Queen shook her head, knowing what her mother was about to ask of her. "Mother, I cannot. Please do not ask this of me. I do not have the strength! I still see flickers of his old self in his eyes! He has time to change!" The Queen begged, now sobbing.

"Flickers will not save him or you! Do not let the love you used to feel for him blind you so! He is cruel! He murdered his own nieces and nephews! And Luke..." Rhaenyra choked back a sob of her own at the mention of her sweet son.

"Aemond will be your reckoning. Do not be so stupid to stand by this man. He is no longer the Aemond you love, you lost him a long time ago. Do the Realm and your family justice! The gods will forgive you" Rhaenyra spoke. The Queen wept, frustrated. How could he put her in this position? He promised to be the Protector of the Realm and instead he is destroying it.

"I know you will do what is right. It is your duty as queen, my love."

------

The conversation played in the girl's mind over and over. Devastation and exhaustion plagued her. The fireplace in her chambers did nothing to warm her bones as she stood gazing into the flames. Maybe her husband held enough tenderness in his heart to leave with her. Escape this hell like Aegon had.

Tired, she sat upon the settee and poured a chalice full of dornish wine, as was her nightly custom. The wine dulled her senses and often lulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep. This was the only time she could escape the horrors of her reality. Just for a moment, she could be free of the grief.

Aemond's heavy footfalls startled her out of her trance. She immediately sat upright, tensing in his presence.

"Drinking again, wife?" He regarded her coldly. Her insides felt like they had chilled at his words.

She sighed dejectedly, "yes, it appears so. It seems to be my only comfort as of late." This was the most she had spoken to him in weeks. He approached her and took the chalice from her fingers and knelt in front of her.

"You worry me sometimes, my dear wife. I fear you're falling victim to the drink, as my drunken brother had." Weeks of little words spoken between the two and he chooses the lecture her on her drinking? She felt her insides boil at the thought. Rage was cracking the surface of her grief, rearing it's ugly head for him to finally see.

"I hate you." She muttered. Aemond lightly flinched back, surprised.

"You do not mean that, wife."

"I. Hate. You." She spoke louder. The anger quivered her voice before she continued, "you are not the man I married! You are not the good, benevolent king you promised you would be!" The couple stood together abruptly. He took a few steps back at her outburst and she followed, shoving him as hard as she could. He grabbed her wrists and held them to his chest to quiet her assault.

"You are cruel! You have murdered innocents, your own family! You have betrayed me in the cruelest way and I cannot stand by and watch you destroy us!" Her chest heaved with the weight of her words. "I can no longer bare to even look at you! I'm repulsed by the man you've become! I drink myself into a stupor every night just to cope with your actions! What you have done is unforgivable. The gods will see that you burn in the deepest pits of the seven hells." The words tasted like venom on her tongue. They had festered inside of her for too long.

Aemond's eye widened in horror and shame. What had he done? How could he have lost himself to madness like this?

In his eye, a flicker of the man she adored came to the surface. Large tears threatened to spill out of him.

"I do not know what has happened to me, my love" he muttered with disdain. "The crown has poisoned my mind beyond repair, I fear. I cannot quench my blood lust." A sliver of hope shot through her chest. Was she finally able to get through to him? Perhaps she could convince him to run away with her...but she knew running away with him would be impossible after his atrocities.

Any hope was quickly dashed and his face hardened. Any semblance of her Aemond was gone forever.

"You have the soft heart of a woman. You do not understand the responsibilities that come with the crown. This fire within you was sparked by your mother, no doubt. I know of your little visits and I turned a blind eye to them, a mistake clearly. I will have you bound to this chamber." King Aemond spoke with finality.

"No! No, please, husband! Do not do this to me!" She begged as panic bloomed heavily in her chest, "I do not wish to be a prisoner to my own husband!"

She grasped her hands in his own. "Please, I will do anything. Do not take my freedom. I'm sorry for the words I have said. Please."

"I will have your mother executed in a fortnight. I cannot have her poisoning your mind against me." The Queen fell to the floor and shrieked. Aemond walked out of the room, leaving her to her grief. The sound of her sorrow threatened to shake the very foundation of the Keep.

----

A week had past since her outburst and Aemond was true to his word. She had not left the confines of their apartments, surely her mother thought her dead.

Aemond would still enter the chambers every night, the couple moved mechanically around each other in complete silence. They did not look at each other and even when they slept they huddled to the farthest edge of the bed away from the other.

It had been another day when the chamber maid whispered to the Queen, "The princess Heleana has perished in her cell, my Lady."

The Queen collapsed without a sound. The anguish rendered her mute. The tremors in her hands increased tenfold.

-----

The Weeping Lady held a correspondence with this chamber maid, Lyra. Each day Lyra would bring her meals, run her baths, and scheme with the Lady.

"King Aemond counts the silverware, my Lady. He fears that you will attempt to harm yourself." The Queen sighed in disbelief. How ironic it is of him to worry about her safety whilst he wreaks havoc on King's Landing.

A thought beamed into her head.

"Lyra, strap a kitchen knife to your thigh. He will never look there!"

And so Lyra, the ever-faithful chambermaid, found herself waddling through the kitchens holding the Queen's dinner on a silver tray. King Aemond's eye surveyed the platter before deeming it acceptable. Lyra let out a small sigh of relief once out of his sight.

-----

"You have done good work, Lyra. This is for the good of the Realm, I promise you." The Queen handed Lyra a large sack of gold. "Take this and leave tonight. The Keep will descend into madness on the morrow."

"What will happen to you, my Lady?"

"Do not worry about me, my dear. I will be fine."

Lyra felt the weight of the bag in her hands. Decorum forgotten, she sprung forward and embraced the Queen tightly. Both women sighed at the warm contact. "Thank you, my Queen. I pray the gods will watch over you during your quest."

The Queen lead Lyra through a small portrait that held a passage behind it. Through which, Lyra would taste her freedom.

---

It was late by the time Aemond entered his wife's makeshift prison cell. She was soundly asleep huddled on her edge of the bed. He stripped himself of his tunic and leather pants and slipped into his sleeping clothes.

The Queen awakened at the intrusion, but stayed silent. Nerves rattled in her chest as she knew what was coming. Still, she waited for what felt like hours until he had fallen asleep.

Guilt wracked her mind at the thought of her husband. Her good, kind husband who loved her dearly at one point now replaced with an unfeeling specter.

Her thoughts raced with images of their wedding ceremony. In true Valyrian tradition, they bound themselves to each other forever with their blood. After tonight, a piece of her would be gone forever. Her strength diminished with each passing memory.

She thought of their shared kisses, so sweet and tender. His plush lips were so warm upon hers and his tongue would move so delicately around her own.

Tears welled in her eyes and the knot in her throat threatened to choke the life out of her. She was grieving for a husband she lost long ago.

Her fingers shivered as they caressed the handle of the blade secured under her pillow.

With the handle firmly in her grasp she sat up and looked over at her husband, resting so peacefully. His brows were unfurrowed, erasing the scowl that seemed to be permanently fixed to his face. He looked so innocent, so much like the man he used to be.

-----

The first thing Aemond noticed upon his awakening was the shivering figure straddling his hips. It took him a second to realize it was his beautiful wife.

The second thing he noticed was the anguish on her face. Eyebrows contorted to show the pain she was in as tears fell from her eyes. She attempted to stifle her sobs under his gaze.

Aemond eyed the blade pointed between his fourth and fifth rib. His wife's hand was tembling.

"I know what you must do, little wife."

The pet name twisted her stomach painfully. Her Aemond had surfaced for the final time.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, my Aemond." She whimpered, "I do not wish to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me, sweet girl."

His wife leaned down and pressed her lips against his, earnestly. His lips were soft and warm against hers.

Aemond held her hand that grasped the blade and pushed it into his heart.

"I love you, I'm so sorry."

"I love you."

--------

King's Landing erupted in celebration when word traveled that the King had been murdered in his own bed. Soldiers could not contain the sheer excitement the smallfolk displayed at the news. Riots broke out, fires burned within the Keep. Calls for the Queen's head were heard. None would find her.

-----

Across the Narrow Sea, weeks later, a small ship would arrive at the port. A young pregnant woman would step off with the aid of her mother and their auburn-haired companion.

[talonabraxas]

Crown Chakra: The Thousand Petal Lotus of Spirit Talon Abraxas

Crown Chakra Seventh Dimensional Chakra: (Crown Chakra):

It is associated with the colour Violet, Gold and White

The Crown Chakra carries the energies of Enlightenment, Divine Illumination and God’s Realization. It is located on the top of the head and is the source of our higher consciousness. When fully opened, the Crown Chakra becomes the conduit through which our Holy Spirit, God Self, Christed Self, Buddhic Self or Divine Essence is brought down into our physical being. When all seven of the chakras are opened and aligned and we have purified ourselves and have become totally harmless, the “Gifts of the Holy Spirit” are returned to us. (1 Corinthians 12)

Balanced Crown Chakra: Wisdom, Mastery, Unification of the God Self with Human Personality, Bliss, Intuition, Expanded Consciousness, Knowingness, Transcendence, Oneness, Deep Understanding, Service to Others, Spiritual Energy

The Crown Chakra is often called the thousand-petal lotus. Throughout history, it has been depicted in paintings of Jesus de Christ, Buddha, Saints, Angels and other highly evolved beings as a golden white halo around their heads. When the Crown Chakra is fully opened an awareness of our divinity and the true essence of our being is understood and integrated. The crown chakra will not fully open until all seven of the chakras and corresponding energy fields have been purified enough for divine energy to be released activating the Kundalini. The Kundalini is a divine spiral of energy similar to a coiled snake that lays dormant at the base of each person’s spine (root chakra) until proper purification has occurred within a beings system for it to safely ascend up the chakra column. The crown chakra connects us to our masculine Father God while the root chakra connects us to our feminine Mother Goddess or Mother Earth. If the kundalini is able to move through each chakra and does not encounter any blocks it will move up into the crown chakra opening a pathway for each person’s God-self to descend into their physical body. Kundalini is the Creator’s energy. It is our divine birthright to activate this part of ourselves so we can become conscious co-creators here on Earth. When our system is properly prepared, the decision of our God-self washes over each of the seven chakras breaking the seven seals and activating the creation of our divine luminous light body. This prepares us to move forward into Self Mastery where we have the potential to fully activate and embody our Holy Grail becoming a Divine Enlightened Human.

[vincentwonhogh]

for long i struggled to create an archetype for each of the pevensie siblings and assign them all a season of the year. i think i can now safely say they remind me of transitions between the seasons.

susan is a crisp breeze and the last breathtakingly beautiful icicles of cruel winter that transition into sweet snowdrops and daffodils peeking through a soft blanket of sparkly frost. she is the bringer of new hope and beginnings, for she often needs plenty encouragement herself. narnia brought out the best of her abilities. she steps first into the forest after a seasonal hibernation and her arrow sets motion to the first violets, rabbits and songbirds to wake up.

lucy takes the blooming to a whole new level, all flora and fauna dance with her swaying hair and her singing floods the air in warmth and pollen. her soul attracts the sun's magic from all corners of narnia and into your body. she is as playful and inquisitive as a fawn, yet fierce enough for the whole herd. she breathes life into the old apple tree that is her throne, and wildflowers make her crown.

peter is the ruler of the sweet aftermath, the sap and honey dripping from harvested trees as he slices the ripe fruit with his sword in gleeful celebration. his presence in the room roars respect but puts others at ease with his easy-going nature that is so correspondent with the maturity of the sun and fine wine that can be collected at this time. good spirits are drawn to him in nights slowly creeping closer and he welcomes prosperity into the country, so that his people are ready for the harsher season to come.

edmund, most sensible of all, bears the burden of the night in his mind, and he owns up bravely to this role brought on by fate. it wasn't his fault. but he understands no one else could so wisely and calmly deal with the nightmares lurking by the shortest day of the year. he is quick with decisions and no amount of stress could ever distract him from keeping his closest ones safe and sound in the cruel talons of winter. the gloomy rainy days are spent quietly reflecting and enganing the mind and curiosity thanks to this dedicated protector.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Fumikage Tokoyami x Reader - Dangerous - III

Summary: After losing your quirk, you confide in Tokoyami that your situation does, in fact, bother you.

Warnings: Heavy angst, vindictive!reader, cold!Tokoyami, mentions of jumping from a high place (NOT related to self harm/suicide)

By the time Tokoyami had made it back to his floor, you'd made a spectacle out of yourself. He stepped out of the elevator, momentarily surprised to see the class gathered around you, in awe of your reawakening. He side stepped the crown, making a beeline for the hall, simply wanting to go to bed for the night. He was a fool for thinking it'd be that easy.

"Hey, Tokoyami!" A chipper voice called him out, making him stop dead in his tracks. It was Uraraka, waving him over excitedly, seemingly confused why one of your best friends wasn't eager to share this moment with you. "(Y/N) got her quirk back, come see!"

Halfheartedly, he faked a sheepish smile, stepping closer. "Oh my, how foolish of me not to notice..." He said kindly, glancing over a shoulders at the ghostly light in your hands. He couldn't help but notice your feet lifting off the ground, elated with the praise you were receiving. Could you always float? Surely not, he decided.

"It's fine, Ochako," you said, noticing his presence, and for a moment, his spirits lifted with the thought that you weren't angry anymore, that you'd let him share this moment with you and your mutual peers. He was wrong. "He doesn't care, leave him be."

Tokoyami's heart sank at your words, even more so at the venom in them. The girl simply blinked at you, looking back and forth between the two of you, catching the rest of the class's attention.

"Oh no, are you guys having a fight?" Ashido piped up, tilting her head curiously. The crow stayed silent, eyeing you closely for your reaction. To his dismay, you didn't exactly dispute the accusation.

"I-It's nothing really, guys," You stammered, trying to regain the excitement of the crowd as Tokoyami turned his back. "A-Anyways! Check this out!" At that point, he was fed up with you, slipping into the hallway and ultimately hiding in his room, at home in the darkness.

"Fumi?" A staticky voice called, now at home and free to manifest and stretch his proverbial legs.

"Go away..." Tokoyami grumbled at his soulmate, laying down on the bed, not even bothering to kick out of his shoes. "I'm not in the mood."

"Is (N/N) still mad at us?" Dark Shadow insisted, nudging his host.

"Evidentally." The boy retorted, rolling over. "And there's no 'us', she isn't mad at you."

"Just you, then?" The creature taunted unwittingly, stretching out a bit further, tired from being locked away.

"Is there a point to this torment?" Tokoyami suddenly snapped, irritation evident by the way his feathers puffed around his face.

"Why not tell her you're sorry?" the shadow asked, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Unless you're not sorry."

"It isn't that simple, Dark Shadow." The raven said, not caring to explain the intricacies of the situation.

"How come?"

The host finally groaned, sitting up with a sharp inhale. "I am sorry, okay! I'm sorry for hurting her feelings and saying the things I said but I won't apologize for voicing my concerns!" His feathers stood with anxiety as he hugged his knees closer. "I'm worried for her..." he finally muttered, looking away and venting out all his frustrations to his built-in best friend. "I didn't mean to hurt her feelings but I do feel that with how unstable her quirk currently is, that she could potentially harm someone."

"Why don't you just tell her that, Fumi?" Dark Shadow's head seemed to tilt in the soft violet light and his forehead found it's way under his user's hand, forcing pets.

Tokoyami seemed to soften further at the gesture, never one to deny him a cuddle as long as the two were alone. "I wish it were that easy..." he confessed with a sad smile.

"Why can't it be?" the parasite asked. "You can just say that you're sorry for upsetting her but you meant what you said, right?"

"Maybe after things cool off, not tonight." He finally relented, kicking off his shoes and snuggling up under the quilt with his 'brother'. "I'll smooith things over soon, I promise."

"The sooner the better," Dark Shadow added, nodding. "The longer you two fight, the longer (N/N) won't wanna love on me!" Tokoyami ignored the last remark, playfully rolling his eyes, resolving to put his phone on the charger and work on getting some sleep.

Come to think of it, where was his phone?

Oh no.

-----

You sniffled, curled up on the couch, your welcome home party officially over as the last few friends said their goodbyes and went to bed long ago. Why were you so sad? Why did you feel so empty? You got your quirk back and it seemed more powerful than ever. Your peers were overjoyed to see you showing off your new abilities. So why was it that the moment you weren't the center of attention, that you felt so...lonely?

The flames that engulfed your scalp earlier now burned weakly, only singeing the cerulean ends of your otherwise pale grey locks. You hadn't even noticed your quirk calming down as you wallowed in undeserving self-pity. Your mind replayed the night's earlier events like a rewound VHS tape, along with every emotion they made you feel. Butterflies from the heated kisses you'd shared with Tokoyami, trembling rage from his unsupportive words, heartwrenching relief from Nezu's decision, and the mind-numbing high and low of the sudden and addictive attention you drew from your classmates.

You cringed, remembering some of the things you'd said in response to him, namely the mention of him nearly killing people after losing control of Dark Shadow. That wasn't entirely true, and even if it had been, it didn't need to be said. You just had so little control over your emotions all of a sudden. You chalked it up to your reawakening at first, assuming it'd go away but you were starting to wonder if you'd feel so irrationally forever. Maybe Tokoyami was right, you mused. If you couldn't control your quirk in any way...you could be.

Your thoughts were suddenly shattered by the sound of soft footsteps, a stark contrast to the heavy ones you'd registered earlier in the night. That made it hard to pinpoint who was in the room wth you, you just hoped it wasn't-

"Forgot my phone," A deep voice called, stepping over to the balcony and sliding the door open. "You should head to bed soon, you're going out." He said matter of factly.

Something propelled you off the couch, though you weren't sure if it was the need for attention, to start a fight, or to make up. You followed him out onto the balcony flames climbing your strands ever so slightly. "Tokoyami, wait-"

"You're tired," he insisted, searching the ground where he sat earlier for his phone. "I'm tired. Let's talk in the morning." He denied you before you could even spark a conversation, rubbing you the wrong way.

"B-But-!" you protested, choking on your own tongue.

"Have you seen my phone?" He suddenly asked, unable to find a black object against a black background. Finally, he felt it, almost stepping on it. "Ah, there it is."

Something about his nonchalant tone that still managed to shut you down at every turn made your blood boil. "Are you even listening to me?" you snapped, the length of your hair igniting with crimson fury.

"No," he answered with a sigh, growing wary of your insistence on a conversation he wasn't ready to have. "Look," he finally peered up at you as he was still crouched for plucking his phone from the ground. "I'm pleased that you want to talk, but I beg of you, tomorrow."

"I wanna talk now!" You argued, unable to bite back tears. Why were you so angry? What he was asking was perfectly rational and, honestly the best for both of you. Why did you crave conflict so badly?

"(L/N)," he warned, standing to eye level. The lack of honorific and the formality of your name, as it left his beak, sent you over the edge, spiraling into a fit of anger that swallowed you whole.

"I'm so sick of you, you know that?!" You finally shouted a bold-faced lie. "I'm so sick of you walking around here all high and mighty, pretending you're better than everyone else! Doing whatever you want, playing with people's feelings!" Tears streamed down your cheeks as you internally begged yourself to stop, for your lips to magically stitch shut.

Tokoyami froze at your outburst, eyes glued to your tear-stained face and the inferno that engulfed your scalp, spreading across your skin. He watched as the wildfire broke the confines of your hairline until your entire skull was aflame. He didn't even have time to process your insults, acting on instinct as he reached out for you, expecting the heat to be unbearable. He paled when his hands settled on your shoulders and the flames licked his fingers and- he felt nothing. He was met with a third-degree tickle of warmth across his knuckles that under any other circumstances would have been pleasant.

You continued your barrage of cruelty against him, shoving him away against the balcony's railing as the ghostly vapor began to burn down your throat, feet leaving the ground as you began to float unconciously. "You just hate having me here that damn bad, don't you?! You think I'm some sort of liability to your reputation? You kjissed me and now you want me to leave beacuse you don't actually mean the things you said! You only wanted to get into my pants because you thought I'd leave and you'd never have to deal with the consiquences!"

"(L-L/N), stop!" He choked out as the flames overwhelmed your entire body like a human campfire. He once again put his arms out, though if it was to reach out to you or to keep you from hovering infinitely closer, he wasn't sure. Deciding to prioritize your safety over his own, he lunged forward, enveloping you in a tight embrace. "Y-You've got to fight it, you have to calm down!" He shouted, panicked tears pricking his eyes.

"Calm down!?" You screamed, writhing against his grasp, only secured more by the way Dark Shadow twisted around the pair of you when summoned forth.

"I know this isn't you, there's something wrong with your quirk!" He rationalized, holding you all the more tightly as if he were physically holding you together. "You're not an angry person, you're kind and gentle and whatever you're going through, we'll get through it together! But you have to stop this before you hurt someone!"

You struggled against him, trembling with fury as you continued, totally broken by the reminder that he was afraid of you. "Let me go, Tokoyami!" You screamed into the otherwise still night air. "If you think I'm so dangerous, then get away!"

"I won't!" He argued, tears burning out against you before they could fall. "I'll never let you go, (Y/N)!"

Under normal circumstances, his use of your given name would have made you freeze- made you blush and shyly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His refusal to withdraw from you should have filled you with warmth but instead, it just made it pour out of you. With a final try, you suddenly broke free of his grip, burning even more brightly. "You think I'm so dangerous!? You're so eager for me to leave?!" You cried, hovering over to the railing before climbing a top it.

Horror flashed in his vermillion eyes as he lunged for you, arms tying themselves around your ankles. "No!" he cried, burying his beak into your shins. "Don't do this to me! I won't let you go!"

You glared down at him with nothing but pure hatred as you easily broke free of him, his arms weak from distress and lack of sleep. "You will never tell me what I can and cannot do again." you seethed, pressing a foot to his shoulder, kicking him back onto his bottom. A crack of lightning flashed behind you as you floated just beyond the railing, watching him crawl back to you, reaching out for you. "No, don't come back!"

"You want me to leave so badly?" You asked rhetorically.

"D-Don't!" He swore, reaching for you through the bars of the railing.

As if to spite him, you clenched your jaw, releasing whatever part of your new powers that made you hover, causing you to plummet stories to the ground. "N-No!" A blood-curdling scream ripped from his throat as he climbed to his feet, peering over the rail, only to see you safe and sound, sauntering away, still blazing.

Tokoyami sat back down, holding his chest as if his heart would burst out of it. He truly couldn't handle the scare you'd given him as he hyperventilated, trying so hard to calm his oncoming panic attack. He had half a mind to leave your sorry ass alone in the streets after the stunt you'd just pulled but that all faded away when he felt something tap his shoulder.

Looking up, he found droplets falling from the sky, the frequency of which went from zero to sixty almost instantly. It was raining, and you were on fire. He had to go out and find you, he thought.

He didn't need to ponder the decision too long, however, as your screams filled the night air like an alarm clock tearing through a good dream.

[violet-hearth]

Blessing Bouquets

Blessing bouquets are bouquets of flowers made using Victorian flower language or cultural flower associations. They make excellent gifts, are great for home blessings, an can be made either fresh or with dried flowers.

Some deities also have flowers associated with their stories and folktales such as paeonia and hyacinths for Apollon, and anemones and violets for Aphrodite. They also make excellent offerings to ancestors and spirits in most western practices (exceptions are Judaism and Islam)

Adapt to make flower crowns, wreaths, press flowers and hang in garlands etc.

Prep your stems and greenery, if fresh remove the bottom leaves and snip the stems at an angle

Build the base by adding flowers at an angle one by one, turning your bouquet after every flower added. The base should be the bulk of your greenery and flowers

Add in your focal flowers, these may the the larger blooms or brighter colours, you can feed them into the middle of the bouquet

Work in the smaller blooms and greenery, you can feed them into any part of the bouquet

Secure with twine, ribbon, paper or an ecstatic band

Some Flower Meanings:

Rose - love, passion beauty

Lily - purity, virtue, devotion,

Peony - prosperity, good fortune

Daffodil - rebirth, new beginnings

Poppy - sleep, rest, mourning

Anemone - anticipation, fragility

Primrose - youth, love, fidelity

Iris - faith, wisdom hope

Chrysanthemum - longevity, love

Resources (links):

Floriography

Flowers in greek myths

Flower in different religions

Funeral flower etiquette