#a torch against the night spoilers

[aftgtrash]

I came to look at some funny incorrect quotes on an Ember in the ashes but instead I was given two big spoilers and then are probably part of big plot twists

[sserpente]

The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

[queenofthekings]

𝓢𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓐𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮

Summary: Your story of survival in New York, and the promise you made to Eric.

Author’s note: If I get anything wrong about New York, pls don't yell at me I'm just a Brit who's never been and is relying on the movie and my friends for help lmao. Special think you to @littlexdeaths for helping me with this, without you I probably wouldn't have gotten this finished. And if any of you see a reference to The Enemy, no you don't.

CW: 18+, fluff, descriptions of injuries, horror, spoilers for a quiet place day one.

Word count: 1.5k

Tagging: @espressomunson.

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

You’d first met Eric in class, his accent being the first thing you noticed about him. Like him, you’d travelled far to attend law school in New York and both of you would talk frequently after classes about life back home and how different New York was compared to it.

The more you got to know each other, the more romance blossomed between you. He would always wait for you before class and go in with you, sitting beside you just so he could brush his fingers against your hand or whisper something funny into your ear to distract you.

You were expecting him to ask you out on a date, but then the world fell apart.

When it started, you were with a couple of your classmates, just laughing and joking around and then it stopped.

You barely had time to react before something akin to a bomb exploding just down the street caused everyone to start screaming and running all around you. Your lungs and eyes were burning from the smoke, and you could barely see but all you knew was that you needed to run. You had no idea where your friends were, but you hoped they were just hiding somewhere, and you’d see them soon as you darted into a bookstore.

With shaking hands, you got out your phone and dialled Eric’s number, silently praying he’d pick up only it went straight to voicemail. “Eric, it’s me. If you get this, stay where you are; I will come for you, okay? I will come find you. I’m so fucking scared right now, but I hope you’re still out there and you’re safe.”

You wanted to tell him you loved him, but you were too scared to, what if he didn’t feel the same way? God, feelings were hard when the world was ending.

You ended the call and looked around you, trying to find anything of value, picking up a map and a small nightlight you could use as a torch. You weren’t entirely sure where you could go but staying where you were clearly wasn’t an option. Shoving your things into your backpack, you hesitantly walked back out onto the now quiet street, trying your best not to walk on any broken glass or rubble.

Tears began running down your cheeks as you walked, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. You had to come to terms with the idea that you were the only one left; your friends were gone and so was Eric, even if that thought killed you.

As you walked, you wished you could listen to your music to drown out the silence with the occasional bursts of screaming but you knew it was too dangerous, you had to be alert at all times.

As night started to fall, it began pouring with rain and even through your hooded jacket, you were soaked through. You ran towards some shelter as fast as you could, you ended up finding an abandoned church and slipped inside the door as quietly as you could.

Being careful to avoid the puddle from the hole in the roof and the massive hole in the floor, you made your way to one of the pews and finally rested.

Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night, but you managed to get maybe a couple of hours, better than nothing, you supposed.

In the morning, you looked over your map to find the best route to South Street. It wasn’t going to be easy, but you knew it had to be done, even with the number of blisters you’d gotten on your feet from walking so much the day before.

Sliding off your shoes, you assessed the damage and wondered if you should trek out to find a pharmacy to get some band aids but just as you were about to put your shoes back on, you heard a commotion from the hole in the floor, with two people climbing out of it.

You froze as you slowly made your way over towards them, your heart pounding in your ears as you saw Eric. You couldn’t quite believe your eyes as you got down onto your knees next to Eric’s head, a shaky hand on his shoulder.

His eyes opened and instantly locked with yours, slowly getting up to embrace you, even if he was soaking wet. You tried your best not to cry but after everything you’d both been through, you couldn’t hold your emotions back and neither could he; you both held each other and cried quietly.

Eric refused to let you go, and you refused to let him go – even for a second. You slept together wrapped up in each other’s arms that night, finally getting some decent sleep at last.

In the morning, you could tell Sam wasn’t doing well and both you and Eric offered to go get her medication, Eric refusing to let you go. Reluctantly, you allowed him to go but not without giving him a kiss on his cheek, a silent promise that you’d see each other again.

You stayed with Sam, initially playing tic-tac-toe together but eventually getting to talk about each other’s lives before everything went down. Went to school together, had a massive crush on him you wrote on the notebook, causing both of you to laugh silently.

“He talked about you a couple times,” Sam whispered. “Always wanted to find you, now it makes sense why.”

You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but in your heart you hoped it meant that he felt the same way about you. You kicked yourself for letting him go with just a kiss on the cheek and not a proper love confession, just more reasons to make sure he came back safely with Frodo in tow.

The four of you stayed in the church until the next morning, deciding to venture out to find Patsy’s. You and Eric never let go of each other’s hands, not for a single second.

But when you were out in the open, you’d knocked over an abandoned suitcase, the sound echoing throughout the silent streets. All four of you froze for a moment, before you knew you had to lead the monsters away to give Eric and Sam a chance.

Pressing a kiss to Eric’s lips, you pushed him away and sprinted away in another direction, screaming as much as you could to draw them towards you. It didn’t even fully occur to you that you could die in the process, but as long as Sam, Frodo and Eric made it out, that’s all you cared about.

That was the last time Eric saw you, saving his life. And all he could think about in that moment was how much time he’d wasted not telling you how he felt. And now, you were gone.

By the time Eric got onto the final boat with Frodo, he finally allowed himself to cry, to mourn over the loss of both you and Sam. At least he still had Frodo to comfort him, he closed his eyes and just stopped to listen to the purring cat in his arms until it jumped out of them. His eyes opened instantly, feeling himself on the verge of a panic attack as he looked around for that black and white cat.

Until he saw him at someone’s feet, his eyes filled with tears, clouding his vision but he could tell the person was walking towards him. Wiping away his tears, he got a good look at the person. He blinked several times, not quite believing his eyes.

It was you.

Battered and bruised, a long cut down the left side of your face, but still you.

You smiled once Eric noticed you, the cut across your face contorting a little so it almost looked like a half grimace. You took a seat next to him, handing back Frodo. “Hi,” you said, your voice a little croaky after not being used in what seemed like forever.

“Hey,” he said back, his voice just as croaky. “I thought I’d lost you, too.”

You shook your head, petting Frodo. “I was almost a goner,” you pointed to your face. “But I got saved at the last second, I don’t even remember by who. I thought I’d died, but my face hurt too much. Couldn’t even see out of my left eye at first, but I knew I had to get to here.”

“You still look beautiful,” he moved a stray hair away from your face, not even flinching like most people did at seeing your cut.

You pulled a face, letting out a small hiss in pain as you forgot the cut for a moment before you rested your head on his shoulder. “So what happens now?”

Eric sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t know, but one thing I know for sure; I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head once again. “Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got all I want right here; I have you and we have Frodo.”

“Good. Even then, I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go,” he whispered, capturing your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

[bloodiedrogue]

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.” 

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.” 

“Yes, yes, a real jester.” 

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.” 

“Many thanks, my liege.” 

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.” 

“Of course you could.” 

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark. 

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity. 

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken. 

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.” 

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.” 

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages. 

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter. 

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.” 

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.” 

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.” 

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like. 

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while. 

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through. 

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.” 

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch. 

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?” 

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back. 

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.” 

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax. 

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath. 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind. 

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?” 

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention. 

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you. 

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—” 

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say. 

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh. 

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer. 

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up. 

-

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[callsign-rogueone]

a brief history of Navarre - x.r.

Xaden Riorson x marked!partner!reader (gn) Midterm week at Basgiath has you wanting to pull an all-nighter to study, but Xaden won’t let you. requested as part of my Valentine’s day celly 💕 (gonna be posting these well into March, oops) words: 745 🏷: no book spoilers and no triggers, just X taking care of his partner. established relationship between reader and Xaden. the reader wears one of Xaden’s shirts, but there is no description of how it fits on them (we bigger / taller girls are tired of reading that [character]’s clothes are soo oversized and long on us!) shoutout to the people who put a full timeline of the continent’s history online bc I was too lazy to find it all in my copy lol

“I’m calling it a night,” Xaden announces, closing his textbook. “Gonna go shower.”

You hum in acknowledgement, pen between your teeth as you read the same page for the fifth time tonight, still trying to cram six hundred years of history into your brain. You’ve been sitting on his floor for hours, and the lines of text are starting to blur together, words starting to look misspelled and foreign, losing their meaning with repetition.

You spent too much time reviewing the first fifty decades. You still have nearly another hundred years to cover, from 530 to present. 

It has not escaped your notice that the book reduces the Tyrrish revolution to an afterthought, at the end of the text. The belittling words they’d chosen to describe your parents’ valiant effort had nearly been enough for Xaden to light the entire volume on fire, but he’d settled for ripping that page out of his copy and letting Sgaeyl torch it.

You’d left it in yours as a reminder that these people are not on your side, nor will they ever be. 

The running water stops, Xaden stepping back into the room a moment later. “You’re still studying?” He asks, rubbing at his hair with a towel. “You must be really into that book if you aren’t checking me out right now. I’m literally dripping.” 

He’s a little offended that you don’t even look up as you answer. 

“This is important, Xay. It’s a third of our final grade.”

He dries his hands on his pants, taking the book from your hands easily -- your grip on it has loosened with your exhaustion.

You protest, but he shushes you. “Why did Poromiel not unite with Navarre after the great war?”

It takes you a moment to respond, pushing through the sleepy fog to find the answer. “Religious differences”, you reply tiredly. “And their king did not want to share his throne with Navarre’s.”

“Good. When was the second Cygni Incursion?”

“328.”

“And the second Krovlan uprising?”

“434.”

He shuts the book, gathering your notes into a neat stack. “You know this stuff, darling. You’re going to pass this exam with flying colors and set the curve for the whole class, but only if you get some sleep.”

Materials now confiscated, you have nowhere to look except up at him, and your resolve immediately starts to crumble.

He’s ready for bed, dressed only in a pair of black sweatpants that drape across his hips and cover the muscle of his legs, but every other inch of skin is exposed; the relic swirling up his muscled arm, the definition of his chest and stomach, the broad expanse of his shoulders…

You’re too tired to jump his bones right now, but it would be nice to stop, to cuddle up with him, to fall asleep in his arms. Your schedules are packed with classes, studying, training, his wingleader duties, and your responsibility for the younger marked ones. It’s been nearly a week since you’ve been able to hold him for more than five minutes. His skin is always so warm against yours, and his mattress is certainly more comfortable than the hardwood floor… 

You hesitate, still eyeing the book in his hands. “I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do. C’mere.”

You sigh, letting him pull you up from the floor. Your muscles sing in relief as you stand, your back aching from being hunched over for hours. You relax into him, resting your eyes for a minute.

“Go brush your teeth,” he encourages.

You don’t want to move from his arms, but three years of dating the boy has taught you that he won’t yield on matters of your health. You sigh, heading to the bathroom.

When you get back, he’s packing everything into your bag for tomorrow — or today, rather. You’d started studying after dinner, and now it’s well after midnight. 

He helps you out of the day-old clothes and into one of his shirts and a clean pair of underwear -- you keep a few days of necessities here for moments like these. 

You curl into his side, pulling the blankets overtop of you, and the swirling thoughts are replaced with the easy contentment that comes with being held by your partner.

“You’re going to do great,” he whispers, smoothing a hand over your back. “Just get some rest, okay?”

You don’t respond, already lulled to sleep by the steadiness of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms around you.

[bamsywrites]

Guilt Part Two

Summary: Tyrion worries. You have a baby.

Ships: future Tyrion x Reader, past Tywin x Reader

Tags: depictions of child birth, babies, probably ooc, fluffy, a lil bit of angst. not my best writing.

Notes: it's been forever, I know, I apologize. This is just a short fluffy piece. Let me know if you'd like to see more from this story or if you'd like to read what reader and Tywins relationship was like (spoiler warning: it's complex as fuck and reader did kinda sorta like him a little bit despite what she says). Like I said in the first one, this story has been in my maladaptive daydreams for forever and I love getting the story down. As always I'm open to criticism as long as it's helpful and constructive.

Part 1

Tyrion paced.

He'd been pacing so long he swore there would be indents of his feet on the stone floor of the halls. Hours have passed, day turned to night and still he paced. The torches had long since burnt out, nothing but the moon and stars coming through windows illuminated the stone now. The night was silent besides the muffled sounds coming from the closed door that Tyrion continued to pace in front of. He desperately tried to hear what was going on behind those doors. But all he heard was muffled chaos.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

He strained his ears once again to hear. Muffled pained moans. The sound of cups and bowls being moved. People were talking, frantic, but he couldn't make out what was being said. Damned those walls, damned his painfully average hearing, damned it all.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

He'd tried to gather information where he could, a few handmaidens had left the room in the hours that he'd been there to fetch water or medicine or... whatever, he wasn't sure because they wouldn't answer his questions. Not so much as a nod or a head shake. Damn those women too, he thought.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Turn.

You'd been in labor since early that morning, he'd been woken by the news that your baby was coming, and he'd been outside the door since. It shouldn't take this long? Should it? This was an area of women's anatomy that he has little experience with and it infuriated him. The not knowing, the sounds of your screams, the anxiety, the worry, the guilt.

Step. Step. Step - Stop.

"Agh! Fuck!" Tyrion yelled, throwing his flask full of wine at the wall as hard as he could. He watched it clatter to floor, wine splattering the floor and the wall.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to tune the world out, tried to focus on getting himself together and not allowing his thoughts to go too far. His fingers bitter themselves in his hair, his forehead pressed against his knees. Worry and guilt consumed all of him. You were the only person he had here, that babe was his brother. You were smart and kind and strong. You were good and all that came from you was good. Trysta, Nataria - they were good. The world couldn't lose you.

He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you.

There was a new sound from behind the closed door. A cry.

A baby cry.

Tyrion wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, but his ass was numb as he stood and waited for word of how you were doing. How the baby was doing. Just a word.

A young handmaid emerged from the room, "She's doing well, m'lord. Tired but she's doing well." But her voice sounded almost pitiful, it worried him for a moment until he heard the sound of your tired voice from inside the room.

"Tell him to come in."

You sounded exhausted but he could hear the smile in your voice.

Thank the gods.

Tyrion had never felt such a wave of relief in his life as when he entered the room and saw you with your babe swaddled to your chest. Your face was pale and you were covered with sweat, your hair sticking to your face and skin slick. Your lips looked chapped but they smiled down at the bundle in your arms. His heart jumped at the sight of your smile. Even now, he thought you looked beautiful.

You were the first to speak, "A baby boy. I haven't thought of a name quite yet," you never took your eyes off the baby in your arms. "He is beautiful though, come look at him. He's perfect."

Tyrion approached and his breath hitched in his throat as he saw the baby asleep in your arms.

"A dwarf?"

His voice was quiet as he looked at the sleeping baby. He was shocked. The baby was his brother after all, it would make sense he supposed but he was more shocked at how you were looking at the baby. You had no disgust. No contempt. You had love radiating from your features as you looked at your son.

"I...I am sorry," he apologized- for what he did not know. He felt that's what he's supposed to do.

Your eyes shot up to him and your gaze turned stern.

"No, your self pity is not going to taint my son'" your voice was harsh and firm "There is nothing to be sorry for. He's perfect the way he is, just as are you, and I will not have you think there is something wrong with my son simply because you falsely believe there is something wrong with you," you turned your gaze to the bundle in your arms. "I would burn all of the Seven Kingdoms to the ground for him, just as I would my daughters. Oh, how I wish they could be here to meet him. "

Tyrion stood in awe for a moment. In that moment you were awe inspiring, with your body exhausted and covered in sweat, your eyes telling the story of how your body was spent of all energy but still bright and smiling at at your son. You were gentle, loving with your baby on your chest but the fire in your eyes never died. You managed to put him in his place while making him feel more worthy than he ever had.

"Come," your voice broke him out of his trance, "Hold him." You held the sleeping baby for him to hold.

"I have no where to sit, my lady." He feared that if he touched the babe, if he held him, that Tyrion would taint him or ruin him in some way.

"Nonsense," you moved motioning to the spot on your bed right next you. He must have shown his hesitance on his face because before he could object your voice cut him off.

"I just spent an entire day painfully and excruciatingly pushing this child out of my womb. I do not give a fuck about what is proper or improper."

"Yes, my lady." He couldn't stop the smile that stretched upon his face. He'd never heard you say such things but he suspected you were right.

The blankets rustled as Tyrion sat next to you and made himself comfortable. "Of all the reasons I've found myself in a beautiful woman's bed, I cannot say this has been one of them."

You smiled softly as you sat the sleeping babe in his arms.

"They're always so peaceful right after birth," you say softly. "Its the next day that's the hardest. Tonight he will sleep and I will rest and tomorrow he must come to terms that this world is colder than the one he was used to."

Tyrion looked down at the babe, his brother, and smiled softly. He had already tufts of Lannister hair on his head and he looked so peaceful. His fingers traced the babes face gently. "My father is rather good at making adorable babies I must say."

"I would like to think that it is me making the adorable babes and not Tywin."

"You? I was more so talking about me than the babe."

You laughed out loud, it was exhausted but it still made Tyrions heart skip a beat.

"Speaking of him, you must give this babe a name. You can't just refer to him as the babe or him for ever."

You sighed, your head falling to rest on his shoulder. "I do not think I have it in me to name him today."

Silence filled the room for a few minutes as the three of you sat there. Tyrion fully enjoying the weight of your head on his shoulder and sleeping babe in his lap. It wasn't until he noticed your breathing change that he realized you had fallen asleep. To know you felt safe enough, felt relaxed enough to sleep on him made his heart race.

"I will not let the harshness of this world take you from me." Tyrions voice was quiet and soft, he didn't know if he was speaking to you or your child or to both but he meant everyword.

[pinkthrone445]

~Shadows of the night~

Pairing:Brienne of tarth x Reader

Gender: mostly fluff, enemies to lovers.

Warnlings : (+18) Alcohol, mention of deaths, few spoilers for Game of Thrones season 2. Tell me if any were missing.

Summary:Brienne ends up falling in love with someone she didn't expect.

Enjoy! And don't forget to reblog! 💕

The intense fluttering of the crows pulled her out of the spiral of her thoughts, the night was very dark and she could not see beyond what the torches illuminated, but she came to see a flash among the trees of the forest, something was moving, probably an animal, but as a precaution she drew her sword looking intently at the forest. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt the breeze rustle around her neck. Mrs. Stark's scream cut through the silence of the night, quick as her feet would allow, Bri entered the tent to find an arrow stuck in the tent pole, inches from the woman's head, with a note attached to it

_______________________________________________

Brienne was on patrol by Lady Stark's tent, It wasn't too long ago that she had been leading the fugitive kingslayer to trade him for Miss Stark's children. But his words echoed in her head: "You're uglier in the daytime" "Where did the lady get a giant like you?" "Have you ever been with a man or woman? Maybe with a horse?". All her life she had suffered from comments like that, but the more years passed, the more the words echoed in her head, would she ever get someone to truly love her? Anyone who sees her true beauty?

-"Are you okay my lady?"-Bri asked with her sword in hand, looking for the intruder who had shot the arrow. The woman nodded still frightened, Bri found no one and went back to her side checking her to see if she had any wounds- "Did you have a chance to see someone?"- The tall woman asked, but the lady shook her head again. Bri was scared, but she didn't let it show, keeping her feelings under her stoic gaze, again someone in her care was in danger and she couldn't do anything to protect her.

After having secured the perimeter with more guards, Bri took the arrow with the note and opened it, it was a small note without much content but with an extravagantly delicate handwriting

Brienne read the note at least three times, the last time aloud for the lady to hear

"My lady, your life is in grave danger, someone is out for revenge and you are blamed for not finding it, you must be extremely careful"

-"Trap or not, this is a warning and a well-founded one, we know that there is a father seeking revenge for his son and I let the culprit escape"- the lady spoke and her knight nodded - "I'm going to need your protection more than ever, look for more knights that you trust to take care of me and my son, we don't know who else is involved in revenge, so just look for the ones you trust the most. I will talk about this with my son, if they seek to cause me harm, they will go after him too".

-"This must be a trap my lady, the arrow alone is a threat, surely they are trying to alter your judgment by making you nervous just so they can try something else" - The tall woman spoke, but the older one shook her head

Her knight nodded and went to do everything she had asked, in just a few hours, Mrs. Stark and her son were protected by good knights and squires. That same night, her enemies tried to go against her and claim her and her son's life, but failed thanks to the anonymous warning letter.

A couple more days passed and there was no sign of the anonymous writer of the letter. Every night, as Brienne made her rounds guarding the perimeter, she felt like someone was watching her from the woods, but it never was anyone else in the place when she went to check.

One night, returning from a long journey, Brienne and her mistress entered the tent where the woman usually wrote letters and went about her business, but the blonde quickly drew her sword at the sight of a woman sitting in the lady's seat. The woman was as pale as the moon, but her hair, eyes, and clothes were black as night, no doubt she was someone Brienne did not know, for she was sure that she could never forget her face even if a thousand more lives passed. Although Bri was very tall and stocky and her sword was more than half the height of the seated woman, the black-haired woman didn't flinch one bit

-"Declare your affairs woman, or the last thing you will see, will be the edge of my sword for breaking in and using Mrs. Stark's chambers without permission"- said the knight. You laughed, standing in front of the knight looking into her eyes, raising your head because of the height difference

-"I'd like to see you try" -You said defiantly and passed by her almost standing in front of Mrs. Stark, the only reason you stopped was because the knight was lightly pressing the sword on your neck- "my Lady" - You said ignoring the pressure of the sword on your neck and the woman holding it, looking straight at the older one in front of you- "I have come to beg you to let me serve you as one of your guard" - Brienne laughed dryly, she couldn't believe the chutzpah you had

-"Why?" - The eldest asked -"and what makes you think you have what it takes? I already have more than necessary protection by my side" - the lady pointed to the woman who still had her sword on your neck

-"I've seen how you work, plan, and carry out your things. No man can think of things the way you do, and there's no one else I'd like to protect. I know she is more than enough protection, but I will not only protect you from imminent threats, but from threats that no one knows or sees until it's too late"-You took an arrow out of its case and gave it to the woman, but she didn't take it, just looked at it-"My lady, I have already proved myself worthy by warning of a betrayal of which no one knew" -At that moment, Brienne understood everything, you had been the archer who had shot the arrow with the letter, she pressed the sword more against your neck causing a drop of blood to come out and slowly run down your neck

-"Your arrow almost killed the lady, it was stuck inches from her head" -The blonde spoke rudely looking you straight in the eyes

-"If I had wanted to kill her, I would have. I never missed an arrow, I just wanted to get her attention" - you took out a piece of cloth and pressed it against the armed chest of the tallest woman, Brienne took it and her blood ran cold when she noticed that it was a piece of her cloak, but she didn't show any emotion on her face-"I had the opportunity to hurt both of you several times, but I didn't. I only observed you hidden in the shadows of the forest and in the shadows of the night. Believe me, ma'am, when I say that I can be of great help by being by your side"

Lady Stark nodded analyzing the situation carefully

-"Put down the sword Brienne"-the blonde did as she was asked but without moving away from you an inch - "I will allow you to serve me, but you will be under Brienne's command, she will control you until you show us that we can trust you"- she spoke in a neutral tone and you smiled

-"Thank you ma'am" - you knelt down with one knee on the ground and bowed your head-"I don't believe in gods, but I make this promise out of the love I have for my mother and the respect I have for my father. I promise to serve you and abide by every decision you make, the gods you serve will be my gods and wherever you go I will go. I will be loyal to you until my last breath and give my life for yours if it is necessary. I will serve you without distractions, I will not seek my advantage in any aspect of my life, I will not seek a partner or love, nor start a family, you will always be the most important thing in my life my Lady".

From that day forward you began to serve at Brienne's side. While it had been the decision of Lady Stark and her orders, there was something about you that made Brienne wary. You were always alone, hidden, and didn't talk much about your life. But she had to admit that you were very good at guarding the perimeter and guarding them from distant threats. No one had the skill with the bow like you.

After spending several weeks together, Brienne would see you go into the woods alone almost every night, so she started following you to find out what you were doing, but even though she was very good at following trails, she always lost you.

One night like any other, as she was following you, something hit her head gently, looking at the ground she noticed that it was a pine cone, looking up, she saw you sitting on a tree branch looking at her seriously with your head tilted to the side

-"How many more nights do you plan to follow me?" - You asked and she pretended not to understand

-"I was just getting some air" - replied the blonde and you came down from the tree standing next to her, raising your head to look her in the eye

-"I don't know if you're more bad at lying or trying to be silent and go unnoticed."-You responded by walking around her and tugging at her cloak a little—"your armor and cape make you stomp under his weight, that's why I always feel when you're coming and I have time to hide so you don't follow me" -You started walking deeper into the woods, reaching a lake and dipping your toes into the water after taking off your shoes. Brienne followed you and stood beside you staring at you in the moonlight, almost hymnotized, forgetting for a moment why she was following you.

-"You go out to train with your swords, I go out at night to enjoy the calm and silence" - you said softly and that brought Brienne out of her trance- "I know you don't trust me, I see it in your eyes, in your whole being. You never let me be alone with Lady Stark, you never stop watching me when I do something, you always treat me worse than the others under your command, whenever I grab my bow you look at me suspiciously, waiting for me to do something wrong to attack me... Someday I'll do something to show you that I'm just as deserving to protect someone as you are... I know I don't know how to fight hand-to-hand like you, I don't know how to use a sword like you, I know I'm just the daughter of a blacksmith and a servant, that I'm not from any royal family or any knight, but I trained a lot to be the best archer there was and I know I am, So I won't let your distrust of me bring me down and make me doubt what I'm worth, because I know I'm very good at my job and I don't need your approval"-You spoke with more and more anger in your voice, something Brienne didn't expect, was a midnight confession of how her treatment made you feel. Not knowing what to say and seeing that you weren't doing anything wrong, she turned and went back to camp leaving you alone.

More months passed, and Brienne began to feel less distrustful of you and more curious to meet you. Little by little she began to invite you to eat with her when they had breakfast in the fortress, when you passed each other in the corridors she greeted you with a small bow with her head. She started teaching you a little bit of meelee combat and in return, you tried to teach her how to shoot arrows, but it was a failure. Brienne began to trust you, in battles, and in day-to-day life. She realized that her mistrust had been baseless and that you were indeed a very good person, with good and transparent intentions, to be of use under someone good like Lady Stark.

She didn't know if it was because you spent so much time together or because you always had something interesting to tell, but every day she wanted to spend more time by your side listening to you and watching you. Taking advantage of every opportunity to be near you, she went from following you to control you to following you to admire you.

Brienne had never felt this way about anyone, she had never enjoyed someone's company so much, she didn't know what was happening to her, but she liked it. Although it bothered her a little not knowing what was going on in your head.

One day, after an arduous battle, the Starks threw a big party, to which you and Brienne were invited as it was your days off. If the blonde wasn't sure how she felt about you, she was convinced she was in love when she saw you walk through the doors wearing a red dress and your hair up, a big contrast to the black outfit you wore when you went into battle. Out of nerves, the tall woman was avoiding you most of the night. For your part, you thought that Brienne for some reason had become suspicious of you again, and since you didn't like being with many other people, you stayed on the side of the party, taking every drink that crossed in front of you to kill the boredom.

A couple of hours later, you went to your room, stumbling a little from having a few too many drinks. When you were taking off your clothes, a soft knock was felt on your door, knowing very well the footsteps that had been heard seconds before, you were sure that the blonde was on the other end of the call

-"Come in"-You answered, Brienne came in to talk to you, to apologize for avoiding you all night, so you wouldn't think wrong, but forgot what she was going to say when she saw how little clothes you were wearing. For your part, you didn't know if it was the drinks you drank or what, but instead of being embarrassed, you stuck out your chest to show off your attributes more - "The cat ate your tongue, Bri?"

"Bri" the blonde liked the sound of that nickname from your lips. She tried to talk but she only stammered, especially when you started to get close to her, trapping her between you and the door. Brienne felt silly looking at the seductive way you smiled and how your eyes sparkled in the candlelight, why were you looking at her that way? She never imagined that someone could look at her like that. Perhaps it was one of those dreams she had had the last few nights, in which she imagined that the feelings she had were reciprocal

-Are you going to start following me again to see what I'm doing or did you come for another reason? - You spoke very close to her and Brienne just shook her head

-I-I... - Why had she come? How do you think about anything when one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen was half naked in front of her? What could she say that wouldn't make you walk away, that would keep you coming closer to her? Brienne was confused, according to her, she had never liked a woman before, was that wrong? What if your prompt actions weren't what they seemed and she tried something and just scared you?. Before her head could continue to curl any further, she felt yourself gripping the collar of her shirt tightly, pulling her close to you and bumping your lips against hers. Brienne was in shock and couldn't follow the kiss, but she felt how you kissed her in desperation, she also felt the alcohol on your breath. She tried to stop you, she knew you were drunk and this wasn't right, but when you started kissing and biting her neck, she lost all willpower. With great agility you turned her around and pushed her onto your bed, climbing on her hips and removing her shirt

-"(Y/N)... "- The blonde wanted to speak firmly, but it came out like a desperate whimper-"(Y/N) stop... I had never..." - she whispered and you smiled

-"It's okay, don't worry, I haven't done it before either, we can learn together. Tell me you really don't want to and I'll stop, but I've seen how your gaze has changed for me, I know it's not just my imagination and that you want this too. You are a perfect woman and I have liked you for a long time, you drive me crazy and I would like to show you how much I like you kissing every inch of your perfect body. If you let me, I'll spend my whole life revering every inch of you"-You whispered desperately and began kissing and marking her chest. Brienne did want this, but not like this, not while you were drunk, not when the next day you wouldn't remember anything and maybe you'd regret being with her. How is it that you ended up with her, when you could have gone with anyone more beautiful than her. Thousands of questions went through her head, how could she stop you without you taking it badly? Was it the effect of the alcohol or did you also feel something true for her? Was being with a woman wrong? What would others say? Caught up in her doubts and fears, Brienne lowered her gaze to finally stop you, but what she saw took her out of place. You had fallen asleep on her chest, curled up with a small smile. Near your mouth, on her skin, were a couple of marks and bites. Your breathing was soft and calm and your arms were hugging her waist tightly, as if hugging her is your only reason to live. Brienne sighed, the alcohol had knocked you out and stopped you from getting any further. On one hand she was relieved but on the other, she couldn't deny how hot you had made her feel. Little by little, Brienne's agitated breathing was controlled and before she knew it, she fell asleep, relaxed from feeling of you on top of her, feeling calm and safe.

The next morning, with the first rays of sunshine, Brienne awoke, immediately remembering the events of the previous night, fear taking over her body. What if you woke up upset without understanding what she was doing there? What if you thought she had taken advantage of you? What if, since you didn't have alcohol in your system, you saw again how unpleasant she was? What if... Brienne watched as you slept peacefully on top of her, still clinging to her waist, Your hair was a little disheveled, but the same smile from the night before was still on your face. How was it possible that you were even more beautiful like that? Although her brain was telling her to run, to avoid waiting for you to wake up, her hands moved to your back caressing it with delicacy and love. If this was the only time she'd be like this with you, maybe she should seize the opportunity. She took a deep breath etching your scent into her memory, your entire room had your scent. She smiled again as she felt a little sleepy babble from you and how you snuggled closer to her chest, as if you wanted to reach her heart and stay there forever. Suddenly, your eyes opened, widened, and she could see the panic in them, making her nervous as well. The magical moment was broken, you had already woken up and she was still there hugging you against her body

-"B-Brienne" -You whispered and sat on the bed looking at her and covering your body with the sheets, your cheeks turned red at the sight of the marks on Brienne's chest - "what happened? You and me?... Did we?... "

-"No no" -Brienne quickly shook her head- "You fell asleep on my chest and I couldn't leave without waking you up..." - she saw how you sighed with relief and her heart contracted a little, were you relieved that you hadn't been with her? Would you have regretted it if it had happened? You needed alcohol to be with her?... Brienne got up quickly, since you didn't have her pinned against your body and the bed anymore, she arranged her clothes walking to the door - "I've got to go, we've got training in a few hours" -she said. When she was about to leave, she stopped as you grabbed her wrist, she turned and lowered her head to see you. You had a look of remorse on your face as you had remembered several things that happened in the night, but you also looked very fragile and sincere

-"I'm so sorry for my behavior last night... Alcohol... The alcohol made me act indecently, I'm relieved that nothing went any further... But it's not a lie what I said, I like you very much Bri and I think you are a beautiful woman, the most beautiful woman my eyes have ever seen... I'm relieved that nothing else happened, but not because I don't want to be with you, but because our first time should be something to remember, not something from an impulse for alcohol...I don't know if you like me or it was just my imagination, but you drive me crazy, I've been in love with you for months and it's getting worse every day... I want to kiss you every minute and always be close to you, I want to..." - This time, it was Brienne who interrupted you with a kiss, but it was a slower and more loving one, more affectionate and delicate, a great contrast to the kiss of the night before.

-"I like you too, a lot"-she whispered against your lips making you smile, then she hugged your waist and continued kissing you lovingly.

That's when Brienne understood that it didn't matter what others said or what names they called her, she was beautiful and more than enough, she could see it in your eyes and you spend every day showing how much you loved her and how beautiful she really was.

[olenvasynyt]

What’s your take on Beron? Him saying that he fought to keep his family alive UTM keeps me up at night. Do you think there was ever a moment in his life that he showed kindness to his family? Or, was warm to Lucien at any point?

Ugh the Vanserra family is so interesting. And it’s because of 🫶daddy issues 😂😭

I have too many headcanons around Beron and the Vanserras, so I guess I got to trim it down a bit.

With LoA: she was young when she was sold off to Beron by her family. I’m not exactly sure if it was before or after Beron was High Lord but either way, LoA was described to be all smiles before their marriage. And I think there were signs that Beron was awful, but I don’t think he was initially. He was probably very manipulative, and LoA, being young, might have been manipulated by him and also her family to believe that this was right, that this was her duty in court.

Going to be obnoxious and post a quote from my fanfic, sorry. No big spoilers.

From chapter 5:

They all assured her that she belonged here. Her father, the previous High Lord before his untimely death…even her sisters were thrilled at the news of her betrothal to the heir to the Autumn Court. So she tried to hold onto the hope that they were right.

Despite that tug at her ribs that wanted her to stray somewhere else.

She was so unbearably naive back then. So hopeful, despite all of the little signs she tried hard to ignore; the angry fire flickering in Beron’s eyes despite his polite smile…the dark hallways that even a torch couldn’t brighten. Of course that hope was too green to last. And it dwindled for more than two centuries until it was nearly gone. The glass of The Canopy became dirty, the couches began to sag and the tea table collected dust.

She stroked Lucien’s hair again, breathing in its scent, letting its softness fill her with comfort.

After over two hundred years, hope was at her fingertips once again.

Beron is soooo much more vicious behind closed doors. He’s an asshole in public too, but he also makes a show of holding LoA’s hand, talking about keeping her safe. He’s a manipulative abuser. And like all abusers, he tries to manipulate and lie to his wife and children, and attacks when things don’t go his way. So he probably has been kind of LoA and his sons, and I think especially Eris, as his eldest. He was their first child, and Beron probably immediately set into place what he expects from his children.

Beron enjoys hierarchies, competition, etc. We can see this from his sons, from how he treats the lesser fae, to the blood duel, which is an Autumn court tradition. And he teaches his sons that. And again, he is an abuser, so he probably has different ways of going about that: switching from approval to disappointment and anger when his sons do something wrong; turning his sons against each other to win his approval. It’s psychological abuse.

Lucien is different, though. And I think he brings out another aspect of Beron that’s common in abusers: pride. Beron is very prideful, and that could already be a motivator before Lucien was born, but Lucien upset that pride because he’s proof LoA disobeyed him. He is proof of LoA’s infidelity, and abusers hate proof. They hate their rules being disrespected. So with Beron’s pride, it was probably very hard for him to continue faux love and manipulation he had with his other sons with Lucien. Because though he may not have known about Helion and LoA’s affair from the start, he suspected. And he probably was so angry it was impossible for him to even pretend he loves or approves of Lucien. Plus abusing Lucien is a way to hurt LoA for her betrayal too.

Such a fun topic, right? 💕 thanks for the ask haha!

[marvelmusing]

Keep Your Judgement

Chapter One

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the Darkling and the Sun Summoner are supposed dead in the Fold, Ravka turns on Grisha, and you find yourself imprisoned by First Army soldiers. It’s then that you realise your power as a durast has been severely underutilised and perhaps you are meant for more.

Warnings: Grisha persecution, canon level violence and death, this entire series will take place during the events of season two so there will be spoilers

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

The angry glow of torches casts a flicker of orange light over the metal bars that encage you.

At the sound of a glass bottle shattering against the ground, the lingering dazedness from sleep leaves your body, activating your fight or flight response. But the First Army soldiers that captured you wouldn’t allow you a fair fight against them, binding your hands at the first opportunity, and the locks keeping you confined cannot be opened by your power while the shackles around your wrists are in place.

Beyond the group of soldiers that drink around their fire, the Fold towers high above. Thunder booms in the distance and the bone chilling screams of the volcra send a spike of fear through you.

Everyone knows the Fold has been shifting, swallowing towns, and leaving destruction behind in its wake. It is only a matter of time before it will reach you and the rest of the Grisha in the cages that surround yours.

Every now and then, when the soldiers are feeling particularly spiteful or overconfident, they will drag a Grisha out of their cage and walk them up to the Fold, pushing them into the billowing darkness to face the volcra.

Tears fill your eyes as you remember yesterday evening, when Fedoyr had been taken. He was your oldest friend, the first you had ever made at the Little Palace. When the soldiers had kicked and shoved him through their makeshift camp, you had pleaded for them to take you instead.

One of the soldiers had opened your cell, stood barely an inch away from you as tears spilled down your cheeks. Then he had told you that you would be the last one to enter the Fold, that they will make you watch each and every Grisha suffer and die before you meet the same fate.

Over the last few days, you have been testing the scope of your power, trying to manipulate anything around you. Working for the war effort had limited your opportunities to fully explore your power, too busy creating corecloth for keftas or new weaponry for the First Army – the same people that now hunt down Grisha and kill them.

Anti-Grisha sentiments had been growing for years now, with Zlatan rallying his forces in the West and Drüskelle attacking along the northern frontlines. Even in Os Alta, the otkazat’sya, nobles and commoners alike, had looked down on you.

With the appearance of the sun summoner, you and your fellow Grisha had been given true hope for the first time – that they might see your power as something good. After all, if they viewed a summoner like her as a miracle, shouldn’t your power own power also be seen as something extraordinary?

Though you certainly don’t feel extraordinary as you feel the pins in your shackles shift minutely, barely noticeable. As the hours drag on, the metal moves slowly as you unlock your shackles. Most of the soldiers are asleep now, aside from the two guards that circle around the camp and the cages, taking the same route every night.  

Sweat beads over your brows, every muscle in your arms strains with exertion, but you continue. As you feel the lock twisting, a hairsbreadth away from freedom, you run over everything you are about to do. Luckily, you’re wearing your kefta and after weeks of being helpless you’re ready to make them pay.

Watching the guards carefully, you wait until the moment they are both out of your sight. The shackles slacken around your wrists allowing you to slip free. In just under a minute, you will be back in their peripherals, putting you at risk of being caught.

Clasping your hands together, you lift the lever inside the lock on your cage, it moves without a sound and you step out. Silently, you stick to the shadows cast by the firelight, avoiding the guards and praying they don’t notice your cage is empty.

A heartrender is the first you manage to free, with the intention for her to dispose of the guards quietly. She nods resolutely when you tell her the plan and she disappears into the shadows to handle them. Two durasts are in the next cage, and once they are free you tell them to work on freeing the rest of the Grisha.

It’s at that moment, one of the soldiers by the fire notices movement, the purple of your kefta doing little to camouflage yourself amongst the darkness. He calls out to his friends, nudging the one closest to him as he stands, grabbing his gun and loading it.

“Get down!” you cry out as the first shot rings out.

Ducking behind a barrel, you focus on the materials around you, searching for anything that could help you. Concentrating on the barrel of his gun, you begin to twist the material, rendering it useless. He swears loudly, but you don’t have time to celebrate your victory as the others begin shooting.

The heartrender runs with her body lowered as she reaches a pile of wooden crates opposite you. She exchanges a determined look with you, and she folds her hands together, flexing her fingers in a motion instantly recognisable to you.

The three nearest soldiers clutch their chests, dropping their guns as blood spurts from their mouths, which provides you the opportunity to rush forwards. Clapping your hands together, you focus your power on the shimmering brass buttons attached to their uniforms. Twisting your palms, you curl the fingers on your dominant hand before thrusting it towards them.

The buttons snap from the thin threads tying them down, burying the metal deep into their bodies, pressing through skin and flesh into their vital organs. A few of them collapse instantly, a few stumble as they clutch their sides.

Beside you, the heartrender picks off those that had roused from sleep, joining the fight late. As one of them fires his gun, you bring your hands together before you flick your fingers to one side, casting his bullets away from the heartrender.

As she swings a punch at one who had managed to get too close, someone seizes you from behind, pining your arms back as another loops a wire around your neck, tugging hard. Instantly, your breathing becomes laboured as you gasp and thrash violently.

As dark curls at your vision, you seek out the material that’s pressing against your throat, putting every ounce of effort you have left into breaking it. Tears run hot down your face as desperation claws at your chest, frightened by the lack of air in your lungs.  

There’s a snap and suddenly you’re falling.

Heaving in air, you push yourself forwards, stumbling away from the two soldiers who had fallen back due to the momentum caused by the wire snapping. Quickly, you press your hands together, searching frantically for metal on their clothing.

One of them cries out as the metal clasps of his breeches dig into his abdomen. Red seeps over his white shirt as he writhes on the ground. When the other one stands, charging towards you, the power inside you acts instinctively. Seizing the thin chain around his neck, you tighten it around his throat.

He falls, fingers clutching frantically at the metal, but you are relentless. Stepping closer, you watch as he collapses, heaving for breath, veins bulging. With a flick of your fingers, you yank hard on the necklace. There’s a sickening crack. Then he stills.

Eyes wide with horror, the other soldier backs away, hands pressed painfully against his bleeding sides from where you had buried the metal inside him. Somehow, he stumbles to his feet and begins to run away.

Stunned by your own ability, that you had been able to kill him so easily, prevents you from furthering your attack. He almost reaches the edge of the camp before you begin to pursue him. As your power reaches for the stray coins in his trouser pocket, intending on digging them into his thigh, you sense something different. Not on the man.

The energy you sense sends a shiver over you, encouraging you to peer out into the darkness of the night.

It’s then that you see the shadows move.

Screams are the first thing you process, as the soldier you had been chasing is lifted up by a billowing column of darkness. Claws rip through his skin and a great yawning mouth sinks into his already bloody side. Once the creature is done with him, it dissolves into the night, leaving the body a crumpled heap on the ground.

The heartrender appears at your side, staring wide eyed at what had just happened as the rest of the Grisha stretch their legs and arms, cautiously basking in their newfound freedom.

As a hooded figure steps out the darkness, prompting the two of you to clasp your hands together, readying your power for a defensive measure.

“That won’t be necessary,” the advancing silhouette states calmly. A man’s voice.

As your power reaches out, you sense the corecloth draped over his body. Black corecloth, with lines of gold that shimmer lightly under the firelight. The figure lifts his hood, revealing a familiar face, sporting unfamiliar dark scars over his features.

The General. The Darkling. He survived the Fold.

For a moment, his eyes lock on yours and he lifts his chin slightly.

“I have returned.”

-

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

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[yerimsdreams]

Letters of Intent

author's note: chapter 3 is here! sorry for the wait, I was busy with resit exams and my new semester has also started :((

cregan stark x oc (she/her pronouns)

warnings: mention of death (both human and dragons). making threats. crying. anger. swearing. spoilers for fire&blood.

The dungeons beneath the Red Keep were a labyrinth of despair, a place where even the bravest souls found their resolve tested. As Visenya descended the stairs, the air grew colder and more oppressive, the distant sounds of the keep above fading into nothingness. The stone walls were slick with moisture, the air heavy with the stench of rot and neglect, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the corridors like the ticking of some unseen clock. 

At the third level, the narrow stairway gave way to a series of rough-hewn tunnels. Here, the true darkness began. The flickering torchlight carried by the northern guards did little to push back the shadows that clung to the walls, as if the darkness itself were alive, waiting to swallow them whole.

The Black Cells. 

The passage narrowed further, the stone walls pressing in on either side, until at last, they reached a row of heavy wooden doors, their surfaces scarred and battered from years of use. The wood was thick and dark, soaking up the light, so that the cells beyond were cloaked in absolute darkness. There were no windows, no cracks in the walls through which even the smallest sliver of light could pass. Once the door was closed, the black cells became a tomb of night, where time ceased to exist and prisoners were left alone with nothing but their thoughts - and their fears. 

When one of Cregan's men opened the door to Corlys' cell, the light from the torch spilled into the space, revealing a small, cramped chamber. The walls were close and suffocating, built to crush a man's spirit as much as his body. 

His figure sat slumped against the cold wall. The Sea Snake, once a man of legend and renown, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self, his silver hair matted and his eyes sunken from more than a week spent in blackness. As the torchlight reached him, he squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. 

''Visenya?'' His voice was rough, as if he had not spoken in days.

She stepped forward, her presence commanding even in the oppressive gloom. The torchlight played across her silver hair and pale skin, casting sharp shadows that made her seem more dragon than woman. She regarded him with a cool gaze, her expression betraying nothing. ''Your time in this darkness is at an end, my lord.'' 

Corlys struggled to his feet, the chains around his wrists clinking with the movement. He winced, his body stiff from confinement, but his gaze never left the young princess. ''What have you done?'' 

Visenya ignored his question, her eyes flicking to the northern men standing at attention beside her. ''Release him,'' she commanded, her tone brooking no argument, ''and escort him to his new apartment in Maegor's Holdfast.'' 

The men moved forward, unlocking the chains that bound Corlys. The heavy shackles fell away with a clatter, the sound echoing through the narrow, suffocating cell. 

For a moment, Corlys simply stood there, rubbing his raw wrists, his gaze fixed on Visenya. He wanted to demand answers, to know the cost of this sudden reprieve, but the steel in her eyes held him back from speaking to her as he had done in the years before. 

''Princess,'' he sighed, breaking the thick silence, ''what happened?'' 

The words were heavy with exhaustion and the remnants of pride, a plea wrapped in the dignity of a man who had been brought low. 

Visenya's gaze did not waver. For a long moment, she simply looked at him, as if weighing how much to reveal, how much to keep hidden. 

''You were able to save my nephew,'' she said softly, the authoritative tone in which she had commanded the guards gone, ''but I was not able to save your son.'' 

Corlys inhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat as the impact of her words struck him. He staggered slightly, catching himself against the cold stone wall, his hand trembling. 

''Addam,'' He whispered, the name escaping his lips like a prayer, a lament for the son he had claimed as his own. 

She weakly nodded, the guilt of his death still filling her body each time she thought of the young Velaryon man she had taught to become a dragonrider their rightful Queen could depend on. She had watched him grow, had seen the fire in his eyes as he bonded with Seasmoke, and had placed her trust in his loyalty.

Unfortunately, after the death of her third son and the betrayal of Hugh Hammer and Ulf the White, Rhaenyra had succumbed to paranoia, her once-steady mind fracturing under the relentless pressure of loss and betrayal. She had seen enemies everywhere, even among those who had once been closest to her. It was in this fevered state that she had commanded the arrest of Addam, convinced that he, too, would turn on her, as so many others had. She had seen treachery in every shadow, and in her desperation to cling to her crumbling power, she had condemned a loyal dragonrider. 

But Corlys had known better. He had seen the fear in his queen's eyes and the madness that clouded her judgement. It had been he who warned his bastard son, who had sent him away with Seasmoke to flee from King's Landing before the Queen’s guards could reach him. But in the end, the war had taken him as it had taken so many others. 

There was nothing she could say that would ease his or her grief, no explanation that would justify the tragedy that had befallen Addam at Tumbleton. 

She could still see it in her mind: the horror of that battle, the moment she and Sōnax had arrived too late to save him. The sight of Vermithor tearing into Seasmoke, the sound of Addam's last cry lost in the roar of the flames. It haunted her, and she knew it would haunt her forever. 

''He was brave,'' she smiled, the memory of Addam descending upon Raventree Hall ingrained in her mind, ''and loyal.'' 

Corlys closed his eyes for a moment, as if drawing strength from her words. ''Thank you.'' He murmured, though the words were heavy with sorrow. He did not look at her, not directly. 

Visenya nodded. She knew it was more than his gratitude for getting the stubborn Lord Cregan Stark to change his mind, but to speak so highly of his son, whom many believed was still a traitor as the other two dragonseeds had been. 

''Let us leave this place,'' she said, her voice firmer now, ''your granddaughters will be delighted to see you again.'' 

With a slow nod and a faint smile at the mention of Rhaena and Baela, Corlys turned to follow her and the two northern men, who'd watched their interaction in silence. 

As they emerged into the light of the Red Keep, the heavy, oppressive air of the dungeons seemed to lift slightly. Cregan's men prepared to escort Corlys to his chambers, but Visenya, however, raised a hand to halt them. She stepped closer to the Sea Snake, her gaze steady and resolute. 

''Before you go,'' she began, stern but not unkind, ''Aegon will restore you to your rightful offices and honours. You will have a place on the small council, where your experience and wisdom will be invaluable.'' 

The sailor nodded in acknowledgment. He turned to follow the guards, but Visenya's next words made him pause once more. 

''Wait,'' she said, signalling for the northerners to step back, giving them some privacy. She took a step closer to him, her eyes narrowing slightly, ''there is one more thing you need to hear.'' 

Corlys turned back to her, his expression curious but cautious as well. ''Yes, Princess?'' 

''Guide Aegon well,'' she advised, her voice low but intense, ''he is in his minority and his reign is fragile. Do not make me regret my decision to intervene. If you falter in your duties or act against the realm's best interests, know that I will see to it personally that the sentence originally decreed by Lord Stark will be executed. And it will not be by his sword - it will be fulfilled with the fire of my dragon.'' 

Her gaze was unflinching, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding. There was no room for error, no chance for betrayal. The stakes were high, and he understood the consequences of failing her or the young king. 

Visenya motioned for the guards to resume their duty, leading him to his chambers. As they moved away, the corridors of the Red Keep seemed to close in, the weight of her warning hanging in the air. 

The days following the release of Lord Corlys passed in a blur. The Red Keep, ever a hive of intrigue, had settled into a tense quiet as the last of the executions and sentences were carried out. True to his word, Cregan had wielded Ice with the grim resolve expected of a man from the North, but as soon as the blood was washed from the stones, he had tendered his resignation as Hand of the King. ''The snows are falling in the North,'' he had declared to Aegon, ''and my place is at Winterfell.'' 

Yet, he had not yet departed the capital, lingering in King’s Landing for reasons known only to him.

Now, a different kind of tension filled the council chamber. The noble women and men seated around the large oak table were not here to discuss war or executions but something far more delicate: the marriage of Prince Aegon and Princess Jaehaera. 

''They are children, Tyland!'' Visenya's voice cut through the chamber, resolute and sharp, leaving little room for argument. ''Aegon is only one-and-ten, and Jaehaera is even younger. This marriage, while needed, should not be rushed. Let them grow before you make them say words they cannot comprehend.'' 

The room fell into a tense silence, her words echoing off the stone walls. Ser Tyland Lannister, a former Green, leaned forward, his golden hair catching the dim light of the chamber. ''Princess, I understand your concern for your nephew and niece, but this marriage is not just about them. We need stability, and this union will provide that. The sooner the better.'' 

She narrowed her eyes at the man, making Tyland lean back again. ''Stability bought with the innocence of children is no stability at all.'' She spat back. 

Making the marriage of the young children part of the peace pact had not been Visenya's idea, but at the time she had understood it was necessary. Aegon the Elder's death was fresh in the mind of the realm, and Corlys wanted immediate peace, or in his words, the madness needed to end. 

Corlys, sitting to Tyland's right, clasped his hands in front of him. ''Visenya, the realm needs this marriage to happen. We cannot afford to wait.'' 

She clenched her jaw as she listened to the Sea Snake speak, a man she had saved not long ago, and yet here he was, aligned with those who would rush her nephew and niece into a union neither was ready for. 

''They are children,'' she repeated, her voice softer but no less firm, ''I am not asking to delay until their nameday, but let them have a respite from this war. They have both watched their family die, one by one. Let them heal before thrusting them into something they have no say in.'' 

''The Princess speaks wisely,'' Lady Jeyne spoke up, ''but wisdom is often lost on those who seek quick fixes.'' The Maiden of the Vale glanced towards Corlys and Tyland, her disdain barely concealed.

The room fell into a brief silence, broken only by the shifting of chairs and the occasional clearing of throats. Jeyne's words hung in the air like a challenge, daring anyone to dismiss Visenya's concerns outright. 

Lord Ryce Caron, father of Lady Elenda Baratheon, raised his voice for the first time, his deep voice rumbling through the room. ''This marriage is a symbol, a promise that the bloodshed is over. We cannot wait for them to grow.'' 

Others around the table murmured in agreement, their voices mingling in a chorus of urgency. Visenya felt the pressure mounting, the weight of their collective will pushing against her resolve. 

''Besides, many of the great houses in Westeros are already on their way to King's Landing for the occasion,'' Corlys added, ''the wheels are in motion, Princess. To delay now would send the wrong message, one of uncertainty and hesitation when we need to project strength.'' 

Visenya's hands clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure. She knew that Corlys was right, at least in a political sense. However, the thought of forcing the young ones into a marriage they were not ready for felt like a betrayal of her silent promise to Rhaenyra to protect her legacy, meaning Aegon. 

After a long pause, Tyland Lannister sighed, breaking the silence. ''Princess, your concerns are valid, and no one here wishes to see the children harmed. But we must also be realistic. The realm needs this union, and it needs it now. The Prince and the Princess will be married, and his coronation will follow subsequently. He'll be the Third of his Name, others will rule in his minority, you included,'' he inclined his head, trying to swoon her of some sorts, ''and peace will be restored.'' 

Her gaze hardened, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at Tyland's attempts to placate her with empty promises. She could see through the facade of his words, the subtle manipulation intended to sway her. But she also knew there was little more she could do. The council's decision had been made, and while she had voiced her objections, the momentum was against her. 

''Very well,'' she said finally, the words leaving her lips with a heavy resignation. She could feel the collective relief in the room as she yielded. The tension seemed to dissipate, the lords relaxing ever so slightly, ''but I will take no part in the preparations. You wish to have a wedding and a coronation now, you will plan it amongst yourselves.'' 

She stood up from her chair, her movements deliberate and controlled. The rest of the table quickly followed suit, rising in a show of respect as the Princess made her exit. Her presence was still intimidating, and though they had overruled her, they were not foolish enough to forget the power she held. 

Without another word, she turned and left the chamber, making her way toward the gardens. The tension in the chamber had been stifling, and the cool air outside was a welcome relief, though it did little to soothe the frustration boiling within her. She needed space, a moment to breathe and collect herself away from the prying eyes of the court.

As she walked, the sound of footsteps following her grew louder. The steady, deliberate pace was unmistakable, and she did not need to turn around to know who was behind her. 

She reached the entrance to the gardens, the familiar scent of blooming flowers greeting her as she stepped onto the cobblestone path. 

Cregan caught up to her, falling into step beside her. ''Visenya,'' He spoke her name, a hint of concern laced in his voice. 

She stopped, her back still turned to him, her hands still clenched into fists at her sides. For a moment, she said nothing, letting his presence wash over her like a wave of calm. The anger and frustration she had been holding onto so tightly began to loosen its grip, though it did not disappear entirely.

Finally, she turned to face him, her eyes blazing with the remnants of her earlier fury. ''They are blithering idiots!'' She burst out, her voice sharp with anger. ''They sit at that table, so sure of themselves, like they cannot be touched. That Lannister cunt gets to walk around freely while a mere moon ago, he was kissing the Usurper's ass and now he gets to make decisions on my nephew's future, on my sister's son's future? Pathetic.'' 

She began to pace, her movements agitated, as if the energy of her anger needed an outlet. ''How dare they? I am a Princess of the Crown, a Princess of the Realm. While I was out there fighting a war that despicable men like them started, they were simply sitting in their castles, doing nothing.'' 

Cregan listened in silence as Visenya vented her frustration, his gaze steady and unwavering as he watched her pace back and forth like a caged lioness.

Her voice rose with each word, the injustice of it all fueling the fire within her. ''I bled for my sister, sacrificed for her, and now they think they can sit there, in their comfortable chairs, and dictate the future of my blood? They presume to make decisions for Aegon and Jaehaera as if they have earned that right - as if they understand the cost of the peace they so desperately seek.'' 

''Where were they when my sister got her birthright stolen? Where were they when they had to honour their oaths? They were nowhere! They were hiding, waiting to see who would emerge victorious, so they could crawl back into power like the cowards they are.'' Her pacing quickened, her steps echoing on the cobblestones as she continued. 

Visenya stopped suddenly, turning to face Cregan with a fierce intensity. ''And now they want to make these children spew vows they do not understand.'' 

She shook her head, her expression one of disbelief. ''They see this marriage as a neat little package to tie up the war and move on. But they are blind to the damage they are doing. They do not care for those children, only about what they represent. Power. Control. A chance to secure their own positions.'' 

Her breathing was ragged, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. For a moment, she just stood there, the anger that had fueled her rant giving way to a deep, aching sadness. 

Cregan reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, grounding her in the present moment. ''You are not wrong, Princess,'' he spoke calmly, ''but you are above them, stronger than their petty schemes.'' 

Visenya looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ''I just want Aegon to smile again. I cannot even remember what he looks like while smiling.'' She admitted, her voice trembling. 

His heart ached at the sight of her, the depth of her pain cutting through him like a blade. The fierce, determined woman who had stormed out of the council chamber moments before now stood before him, vulnerable and worn. 

He shuffled a bit closer, his hand squeezing her shoulder with a reassuring firmness. ''He will smile again,'' he murmured encouragingly, ''because he still has your love, your strength.''

She blinked, and a single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, frustrated at her own display of weakness. ''But I'm leaving him, Cregan,'' Visenya whispered, her voice cracking with the weight of her fear, ''I am abandoning him when he needs me the most. Just… just like I abandoned Rhaenyra.'' 

Her voice quivered as she spoke, the mention of her sister breaking down the strong facade she had worn since arriving back in King's Landing. The grief she had buried deep within threatened to overwhelm her, the memory of Rhaenyra's loss still fresh, still raw.

Cregan shook his head, his expression easing. ''You did not abandon your sister nor are you abandoning your nephew,'' he began, his voice low and persistent, ''you heeded her commands, as a loyal ally should. Rhaenyra sent you to the Riverlands because she believed in you, in your strength and valour.'' 

Visenya looked away, her gaze distant, her heart heavy. ''Yet I was not by her side when she met her end. I was not there when…'' Her voice caught in her throat, the words too painful to speak aloud. 

The man in front of her reached out, his hand warm and gentle as he cupped her cheek, turning her face back toward him. ''You carried out her will, Visenya. Your sister knew the risks, the dangers. She made her choices, and she entrusted you with a part of her legacy. You honoured her memory by doing as she bade.'' His thumb brushed away the tear that had fallen, his touch tender, almost reverent. 

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch for a moment, drawing strength from his presence. ''I should have defied her commands,'' she shook her head, her voice thick with regret, ''she was a fool to go to Dragonstone with nothing but her son by her side. With Sōnax, I would have burned Aegon alive and she would be sitting on her throne at this moment.'' 

Cregan's expression remained fixed, though his gaze grew more solemn. ''The past is a cruel master,'' he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek, ''but you cannot change what has been done. Rhaenyra was a queen who made her own choices, for good or ill. You did as she bade because you are loyal, because you loved her. Do not dishonour her memory by doubting her decisions now.'' 

Visenya opened her eyes, filled with sadness. ''I should have been there,'' she insisted, ''she should not have faced that betrayal alone.'' 

''Rhaenyra knew the dangers, and she faced them as she saw fit. Her end was her own, it is not yours to carry.'' He said firmly, his hand still clinging onto her cheek. 

Cregan could still see the disappointment etched into his betrothed's features, a burden she bore with every breath. Her eyes, though fierce, were clouded with the weight of self-reproach. 

''Visenya,'' he mumbled, his gaze not wavering from hers, ''you have a life ahead of you, one that your sister, your Queen, would want you to live with all the vigour and courage she saw in you. She made her choices, and now, you must make yours. And I shall stand beside you, my Princess.'' 

Her eyes, still filled with disappointment, began to soothe, as though his words had found a place within her heart. Slowly, she found herself believing him, finding comfort in his certainty. 

A faint, tremulous smile touched her lips. ''I thank you, Cregan,'' she whispered, ''for all that you have done, and all that you are.'' 

Cregan's gaze softened further, and he let his hand remain for a heartbeat longer before lowering it. He dipped his head slightly, acknowledging her gratitude with a humility that belied his own strength. 

''You need not thank me, Princess.'' 

Visenya walked with purpose through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, her mind focused on her next task - checking in on Aegon. The tension of the day's council meeting still lingered, but she had little time to dwell on it now. As she rounded a corner, her path was suddenly blocked. 

''Oh, my apologies, Princess.'' The man dipped his head swiftly in respect as he recognized who stood before him, his grand frame shifting aside to clear her path.

Visenya paused, taking in the man before her. He was undeniably Northern, his broad shoulders and simple yet sturdy attire a stark contrast to the more refined courtiers of King's Landing. 

She offered him a slight nod in return. ''Do not fret, uh…'' She searched for a name, almost embarrassed she did not immediately recognize the sigil on his chest. 

''Lord Edrick Cerwyn, Princess. I beg pardon for nearly running into you like a clumsy fool.'' He introduced himself, straightening his posture. 

Her eyes flickered with recognition as the name registered. ''Lord Cerwyn,'' she repeated, her voice carrying a touch of warmth as she spoke, ''there is no need for apologies. The Red Keep can be a labyrinth for even the most practised among us.'' 

Edrick offered a modest smile, his rugged features softened by the gesture. ''Still, it was not my intention to impede your path, Princess. I have heard much of you, though this is our first meeting. I hope I have not left a poor impression.'' 

''You have not,'' she assured him, ''you are a close friend of Lord Stark, are you not?'' 

Visenya had seen the man around the Warden of the North a handful of times. Cregan had mentioned his name once during one of the earlier council meetings, but she hadn't had the chance to actually speak with him. 

''Aye,'' Edrick grinned, his voice filled with a quiet pride, ''Cregan and I have known each other since we were boys.'' 

The young woman nodded thoughtfully. ''It is good to know that Lord Stark surrounds himself with those he trusts deeply. Such bonds are rare, especially in these times.'' 

Visenya couldn't help but notice the easy charm in Edrick's demeanour, a warmth that felt almost disarming compared to Cregan's more stoic nature. She found herself smiling a bit more naturally, her earlier tension easing. 

His grin widened slightly. ''Aye, rare indeed, but those bonds are what keep the North strong.'' 

''I see why Lord Stark counts you among those he holds close.'' She responded, her tone much lighter now. 

Edrick chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. ''Thank you, my Princess. In truth, I am looking forward to your arrival in Winterfell. The North can be a cold place, but I suspect your presence will warm it considerably.'' 

''You flatter me, my Lord.'' She said, smiling more naturally at his kind words, a touch of colour rising to her cheeks.

''Not at all,'' he replied, his tone sincere, ''Cregan, uh, Lord Stark speaks highly of you, Princess, and he is not one to give praise lightly.'' 

Her smile faltered slightly, a hint of surprise crossing her features. ''He has spoken of me?'' 

''Aye, he has,'' Edrick confirmed, ''he holds you in high regard, as he should.'' 

Visenya was silenced for a moment. She hadn’t imagined that Cregan would speak of her to his closest friends. The idea that she had made such an impression on the Warden of the North was unexpected, and it left her feeling both flattered and slightly unsettled. 

''I was not aware.'' She admitted after a pause, her voice quieter. 

He offered a gentle smile, sensing some unease. ''Well, now you are, Princess.'' 

She nodded slowly, her mind still processing. ''It, uh, was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Cerwyn,'' her voice wavered slightly, but she quickly composed herself, ''I hope to see you soon again.'' 

Edrick dipped his head in a respectful bow. ''The pleasure was mine, Princess. I am sure our paths will cross again, whether here or in the North.'' 

Visenya resumed her walk after giving him a final nod, her footsteps carrying her down the familiar stone corridors of the Red Keep. Initially, her destination had been clear, to check on her nephew. But after her conversation with Edrick, her mind buzzed with new thoughts, leading her feet in a different direction. 

She turned down a quieter corridor, where the air felt cooler and the noise of the castle seemed to fade into a distant murmur. Her steps guided her to the private chambers of Lady Melina Massey, one of her ladies-in-waiting and the younger sister of Lady Elinda, who had served her late sister Rhaenyra. 

Visenya and Melina had always had a great relationship, offering a blend of wisdom and warmth that made her an invaluable companion. The woman of House Massey was only a few years older than the Targaryen Princess so it had always felt natural to confide in her when it came to more personal subjects. 

As Visenya approached the door, she took a moment to compose herself. Then, with a gentle knock, she announced her presence. The door opened shortly after, revealing Melina's kind and attentive face. She immediately sensed that something was amiss.

''My Princess,'' Melina greeted her with a slight curtsy, her tone laced with concern, ''is everything well?'' 

Visenya managed a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. ''May I come in? There is something I would like to discuss.'' 

The older woman stepped aside without hesitation. ''Of course, Princess.'' She gestured for Visenya to enter, closing the door behind them to ensure their privacy. 

Inside, the room was cosy and inviting, with warm tapestries adorning the walls and a soft glow emanating from the fire burning in the hearth. Melina gestured for her to settle in one of the chairs by the fire, herself taking the opposite seat. 

''What troubles you, my Princess?'' Melina asked gently. 

Visenya took a deep breath, her gaze flickering to the flames before meeting Melina's eyes. ''I just met Lord Edrick Cerwyn. He is a close friend of Cregan,''

Her lady nodded, showing her full attention was on her. 

''He said that Cregan speaks of me, to him - that he speaks highly of me.'' 

Melina leaned in slightly, her eyes alight with curiosity. ''So, Lord Stark speaks of you to his closest friends? That is rather telling, don't you think?'' She grinned, a teasing tone in her voice. 

Visenya offered a small, somewhat embarrassed smile. ''I cannot say. At times, he seems very reserved. I didn't imagine he would mention me to anyone, at least not in a personal way.'' 

Her friend's grin widened, clearly enjoying this rare moment of Visenya's vulnerability. ''Oh, my Princess. You are to be married. Of course, he would speak of you in such a light. How could he not?'' 

She shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the armrest. ''I suppose you are right,'' she admitted softly, ''I do wonder what he tells Lord Cerwyn.'' 

Melina's eyes sparkled with intrigue as she leaned in closer, her voice lowering as if they were sharing a secret. ''Oh, I can only imagine. I bet he speaks of your wisdom, your intelligence, your resilience, your beauty.'' She teased, her tone light and encouraging. 

Visenya's cheeks warmed at the thought, but she let out a small laugh, her earlier uncertainty fading. ''He is difficult to read, always composed.'' She mused. 

Her companion chuckled softly, her smile warm and knowing. ''Reserved men often speak volumes in the little they do say. And if he’s speaking of you, it’s because you’ve given him something to think about.'' 

The Princess' gaze softened as she considered Melina’s words. ''Perhaps,'' she murmured, a gentle smile tugging at her lips, ''it’s strange, though, to think of him discussing me… us… with his friends.'' 

Melina nodded, her expression filled with understanding. ''It might feel strange, but it is a good sign, Princess.'' 

Visenya tilted her head, her voice thoughtful. ''He is not like the men at court, who are all too eager to boast or flatter,'' she remarked, rolling her eyes, ''with him, every word feels… intentional. After the council meeting today, I was upset and frustrated. Somehow, he found me at the right time and he listened to what I had to say, without asking him to.'' 

''Maybe he could feel it in his bones that his future lady-wife was not feeling well?'' Melina laughed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

The younger woman, unable to suppress a grin, leaned forward and playfully slapped her friend's knee. ''Oh, will you hush!'' Though a faint blush graced her cheeks, the teasing was met with good-natured laughter from both.

But as the laughter subsided, Visenya's expression grew more serious. She glanced toward the fire, the flames reflecting in her violet eyes. ''Melina,'' she began, her tone shifting to something more contemplative, ''there is something I wish to ask you.'' 

Melina straightened in her chair, her attention fully on the Princess. ''Yes?'' 

''In a few moons, when it is time for me to leave for Winterfell, I would ask if you would come with me.'' She was nervous asking such a question, to leave her home. 

Melina's eyes widened slightly in surprise. ''You wish for me to accompany you to the North?'' 

Visenya nodded. ''I believe it could be a new start for the both of us. Winterfell is far from here, and there are a lot of uncertainties. Having a familiar face with me in an unfamiliar place would mean a great deal.'' 

Both women had endured the profound loss of their older sisters - Visenya with Rhaenyra, and Melina with Elinda. The grief they carried had only strengthened their bond, one that went beyond mere duty or friendship. 

Melina reached across the small space between them, taking Visenya's hand in hers. ''It would be an honour. I will go wherever you need me, even to the ends of the earth, Visenya.'' 

The Princess's lips curved into a grateful smile. ''Thank you, Melina. Truly.'' 

Melina squeezed her hand gently, and for a moment, the two friends simply sat in the quiet warmth of the room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. It was a peaceful moment, something they both unconsciously needed. 

The days that followed were filled with significant events that would shape the future of the realm. The wedding of Aegon and Jaehaera was a grand yet poignant affair, held outdoors atop Visenya’s Hill. A deafening cheer erupted from the gathered smallfolk when the marriage was solemnised, the streets thrumming with the sounds of celebration as the royal pair were paraded up to the Red Keep in an open litter. The coronation followed swiftly, with Aegon crowned in a simple circlet of yellow gold, his child bride beside him as he took on the mantle of Aegon III, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. 

But even amidst these grand ceremonies, Cregan's departure was imminent. The portcullis at the castle gates was raised, and the cobblestone courtyard buzzed with activity as the Warden of the North and less than a hundred of his men prepared for their journey back to Winterfell. 

Visenya stood near the entrance of the courtyard, her posture straight and her face carefully composed. The cold wind ruffled her hair, and the weight of her impending role as regent settled heavily on her shoulders. She watched as Cregan, mounted on his powerful horse, oversaw the final preparations of his men, his expression a mask of determined calm.

As the moment of farewell drew closer, she took a deep breath, steeling herself. Cregan finished giving orders, his commanding presence unmistakable even in the midst of the bustling activity. He dismounted his horse, his long coat billowing behind him as he walked toward Visenya. 

They met in the centre of the courtyard, where the noise of the departing men and clattering of hooves seemed to recede into the background. His gaze met hers with an intensity that was unnervingly intimate. 

Visenya took a step forward. ''I wish you a safe journey to the North, my Lord.'' 

He inclined his head slightly, the usual firmness of his features softened but still unwavering. ''Thank you, Princess. I shall take great care.'' His voice was low, almost hushed. 

They fell into a silence, the noise of the courtyard seemed to shrink around them. Cregan's expression was unreadable, his eyes intense as if searching for something in her gaze. There was an unspoken tension between them - not of conflict, but of uncertainty. They were both aware that this parting was different, heavier with the weight of their impending union and the months of separation that loomed ahead. 

Visenya hesitated, her mind racing to find the right words. ''I trust you will find the North in good order when you return.'' The words came out more formal than she intended, and she cringed internally at the stiffness of her tone. 

Cregan's brow furrowed slightly, a faint shadow of confusion passing over his features. ''I will do my best to ensure it.'' 

She forced a smile, cursing herself for the awkwardness she felt. 

The Warden studied her for a moment, sensing the unease in her expression and the stiffness in her tone. He took a small step closer, his voice lowering as if to offer her some comfort. ''I look forward to your arrival in Winterfell, my Princess. The North will look forward to seeing you.'' 

Visenya’s forced smile softened. He had a way of making things feel less daunting, even in the simplest of statements. ''Thank you, my Lord.'' 

''I will write to you in the moons we will be apart, if it pleases you?'' A hint of a smile played at his mouth as he asked, the stern lines of his face easing. 

She visibly eased at his words, her heart warming at the prospect of receiving his letters. ''I would like that very much.'' She replied, feeling much more comfortable now. 

Cregan nodded, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he noticed her growing ease.. ''Then you shall have my letters. I won’t let the distance make us strangers.'' 

''I will write too, though I fear my letters may be more about my complaints of the council than anything else.'' Visenya chuckled. 

Cregan's smile deepened, a rare warmth present. ''I will read them all the same. It will remind me that the South still has its own battles to fight.'' 

''And perhaps I will learn more about the North through your letters than I could from any book.'' She remarked, her voice softer now, a touch more sincere. 

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. ''You’ll find the North is as much about its people as its lands.'' 

Cregan's tone held a hint of pride. The North was a place of harsh winters and fierce loyalty, a land where bonds were forged in the fires of adversity, and he wanted her to know that she would be welcomed not just as a princess, but as one of their own.

''Then I shall look forward to your letters, my Lord. Perhaps they will make this time apart a little easier to bear.'' Visenya said, her words laced with a mix of anticipation and hope. 

His gaze lingered, as if he were committing every detail of her face to memory - the way the light afternoon light caught the silver strands of her hair, the gentle curve of her lips as she smiled, the hint of vulnerability in her violet eyes that she tried so hard to hide. 

In an almost quiet, instinctive gesture, Cregan reached out and gently took her hand in his. His grip was firm, yet careful, as though he were holding something delicate that he could easily break. Without breaking eye-contact, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. 

He let go, and stepped back, a respectful distance now between them. ''Farewell for now, Visenya,'' he said, with an intimate use of her name, ''may the winds favour your journey when you come North.'' 

''And may they guide you home safely, Cregan.'' She replied, feeling flushed by the manner he spoke her name. 

With a nod, Cregan turned, his fur coat sweeping behind him as he mounted his horse once more. The beast shifted beneath him, sensing the change in its rider's mood, eager to be off. Visenya watched as he took his place at the head of his men. The sound of the hooves striking the ground echoed through the courtyard as the Northern party began their journey. She remained rooted in her place as they moved out of the castle walls. 

With one final look over his shoulder, Cregan met her gaze from a distance. He raised his hand in a final, silent farewell, and Visenya raised hers in return. 

She watched until the last trace of his party disappeared from view, the banners of House Stark swallowed by the winding streets of King's Landing that had never truly welcomed them. Only when they were truly gone did she allow herself to lower her hand. 

The courtyard felt emptier now, physically and figuratively. The last weeks the Wolf in the North had been a constant presence, even when that presence was not always appreciated. He had brought with him the biting winds of his homeland, the uncompromising nature of a man forged in a harsher climate, and though his presence had often been met with wariness, it had also provided an anchor, a grounding force in the midst of chaos. 

It was comical how the Lord of Winterfell had gone back to his frosty mountains and weather, yet it was Visenya who felt cold without him there. She felt his absence keenly now. He had been a fixture in the Red Ked. 

A man out of place, but never out of his depth.

The council chamber was filled with the low murmur of voices as the lords, Lady and Princess debated the finer points of the realm's governance. 

Visenya sat at the long, polished table, her posture straight, betraying none of the fatigue that had settled into her bones. To her left sat Ser Torrhen Manderly, the burly lord of White Harbor. On her right sat Corlys, while Lady Jeyne had taken the seat across from her. The Targaryen woman no longer occupied the chair at the head of the table, now belonging to the new Hand of the King, Ser Tyland Lannister. 

Just as Lord Westerling was making a point about the raids of the Red Kraken on the western coasts, the chamber doors creaked open. The maester, a stooped man with a bald head and a chain heavy with links of various metals, stepped inside. He cleared his throat, cutting through the debate. 

''Princess,'' he said, his voice gravelly with age as he addressed Visenya, his eyes respectfully lowered, ''a raven has arrived from Winterfell.'' 

Several faces turned to Visenya, curiosity and concern etched on their features. She remained outwardly composed, though her heart quickened at the mention of Winterfell. The raven could only mean one thing - Cregan had sent word. 

She nodded calmly at the maester. ''Yes, thank you,'' she then turned to the council, her voice measured, ''my Lady, my lords, if you will excuse me. Feel free to continue the discussion amongst yourselves.'' 

The members of the council exchanged glances but nodded in acquiescence. Tyland gave her a small, acknowledging nod. ''Of course, Princess. We shall carry on in your absence.'' 

Visenya rose gracefully from her seat, her movements fluid, betraying none of the excitement that fluttered within her. The eyes of the council followed her as she exited the chamber, the heavy doors closing behind her with a quiet thud that left the room in a thoughtful silence. 

Once outside the council chamber, the maester waited for her just beyond the doors, holding out a small, tightly rolled scroll sealed with the direwolf of House Stark. The parchment was thick and slightly weathered from its long journey south. 

''A message from Lord Stark, Princess.'' The old man said, handing her the scroll with both hands. 

Visenya took the scroll from him, the weight of it light in her hand. ''Thank you, Maester.'' 

The maester bowed and stepped away, leaving Visenya in the quiet of the corridor. She turned and walked a few steps further down the hall, seeking a more secluded spot near a window where the light streamed in, casting a warm glow over the stone walls. There, she carefully broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. 

''Princess,'' the letter began, formal yet familiar, ''I trust this finds you well. The North is as cold as ever, but its people await your arrival with great anticipation. The preparations for your journey are underway, and I have ensured that Winterfell will be ready to receive both you and your dragon with all the respect due to your station.'' 

Visenya couldn't help but smile faintly at his mention of her dragon. The thought of Sōnax in the North, among the snow and cold, was almost surreal. 

Cregan continued. ''I also wish to inform you that the Bannermen of House Stark have been notified of your impending arrival, and they have pledged to welcome you with the respect and honour that you deserve. Rest assured, you will find strength in the North, and I will do all in my power to ensure you are welcomed as a Stark in every sense.'' 

There was a pause in the letter, almost as if he had hesitated before writing the next part. ''Until then, I will await your letters with impatience. Do not keep me waiting too long, Visenya. I find myself growing quite curious about how you are managing the regency council. I can only hope they are not giving you too many headaches, though knowing the Southern lords, I fear that might be wishful thinking.'' 

Visenya couldn’t suppress a smile at his playful tone. It was a side of Cregan that he rarely showed in his time in the Red Keep. The image of the stern Warden of the North expressing impatience for her letters, and humorously acknowledging the difficulties of dealing with the council, was endearing. ''Do not delay in writing back, for your words are a comfort in this time apart. Until we meet again, Cregan Stark.''

Taglist: @oxymakestheworldgoround

[kazanfamily]

Pristine Cut spoilers!

You have been warned.

So, I did a full playthrough of Slay the Princess last night, not trying to go for completionism, just wanting to see as much new content as I could. I did it all in one go, and at the end I was going to sleep at 3 AM.

By complete accident, the order that I chose things came together in a neat storyline, and I'm still emotional about it so I really needed to share this.

1. The Cage

I kept the knife when I went to see her. Didn't even know if it was actually possible to leave it.

The endless cycle played out, with the princess resigned to her fate.

I felt like she could have been so much more (from a personal, not writing perspective). I was sure that if she'd just stopped insisting we didn't have a choice, we might have been able to figure something out together.

2. Apotheosis

I reached this path by making choices that no one was happy with but me. I rejected both the Narrator and the Princess.

Even when she showed me a wonderful world outside, I fought back. She was hurting me, and I didn't want that reward if that's what it meant going through.

I went against her wishes, and made us both suffer together.

3. The Fury

Another chapter about making my own choices. She wanted me to fight back so badly, but I decided not to.

As she unraveled me, I could still see her through all of my tiny pieces. I could feel that she was losing herself, just as I was.

When she was too tired to continue, it felt like we'd broken through a cycle and a new option had been presented.

I extended my hand, and we left together.

4. Happily Ever After

I had made my choices, and now it was time for the Princess to make hers.

She had been a perfect creature, existing for the sole purpose of making me happy. When I asked her what she wants, I created doubt in her mind. I presented the option of living for herself.

The last torch went out as I asked what she wanted for herself, so I went with her and we danced under the stars together.

5. The Princess and The Dragon

Have you noticed that I ended all the previous chapters with the word "together"? Well, this one was the culmination of it all.

Even before I knew about the expansion, I already loved the choice needed to get here, feeling it had so much potential. The result did not disappoint, and I can safely say this is my favourite chapter in the game now.

When it was just me and the Princess, the first thought on my mind was guilt. To get here, I needed to insist on slaying her at every opportunity. But she didn't resent me.

Then, I saw "me" coming down the stairs, and something started shifting. It felt strange and scary. I was glad not to be there with them.

When I got back in my body, I screamed: "No no no please bring me back, I want to be with her!" I showed my regret to let her know I was in there, then trusted her with the knife.

When she threw it out the window, the storyline I had been following this whole time became clear to me. Our story was one of autonomy. About making the choices that felt right for me, even if they were "wrong" for everyone else.

"And? What happens next?" Was the ending I went for. That decision became obvious right at that moment.

Overall thoughts

Slay the Princess was already one of the most impeccable games of all time in my opinion. Needless to say, @blacktabbygames delivered just as expected with one masterpiece of a chapter after another.

As mentioned, Princess and the Dragon was my favourite part of it. Being in the Princess' shoes felt like living through one of those many AUs people run here on Tumblr, and I mean that in the best way possible.

But Happily Ever After deserves a special mention as well. Those two were some of the Princesses that feel the most natural and like real people, right up there with the Thorn. It was very nice seeing the Damsel finally be able to break free of her design.

The dancing under the stars scene was probably my favourite part in all this. It felt like a much needed moment for the both of us. They certainly delivered on the trailer, that's for sure.

Sadly, when I first got into Slay the Princess, I didn't play blind. I watched someone else first, and the route I got when I finally bought it was something I specifically picked out because I already knew what would happen.

But even though I was intentionally going after the new content, this expansion still allowed me to create a story that felt truly mine, and I'm grateful for it.

That said, I'd like to hear a standing ovation for Abby and Tony Howard, who once again graced us with an absolute masterpiece of art and storytelling. Keep up the amazing work, you two and all the people involved. I love you all <3

[sanctuary1988]

~ Flames Of Passion |15| Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: DARLING, THIS WARNINGS MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! angst, feral Gwi, typical vampire stuff [biting, blood, killing, blood drinking], violence, burglary?, murder, blood, Chief Counsellor (he is a warning for himself), mentions of drugs/being drugged, fire, possessiveness, typical period misogyny, love, confession, kissing, battling of emotions, TENSION!, flower is described to be shorter than Gwi, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 4.5k words

A/N: I know this has been an awaited chapter for many lol so I did my best to finish it as soon as I could. I really hope you will enjoy it and also I loved writing this chapter so much because it has a dialogue I had planned for this series since chapter 2 🙈 lmao. ❤️❤️❤️

Tagging: @my-day6 | @yumisventingmachine | @yukihatesreoyo | @anonymous2828 | @solivagant444 | 🙈❤️*let me know if you liked to be tagged or if you want me to get you off my taglist!

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

Dusk had settled. The moon hung low in the night sky as deep hues of purple and blue mingled together with the sparkly darkness of the night that painted the sky in its eternal shadow. 

Gwi walked to his underground palace. His hunger satiated, his robes stained with the blood of his victims. But now, as his thirst was satiated and his mind was calm he yearned for nothing else but to return to the palace of shadows where his rose lived among the darkness that was his sole existence. 

The flickering torches casted long shadows on the stone walls as he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors. His heart, usually cold and unfeeling, warmed at the thought of you. He pictured you in your room, brushing your hair or in the library engrossed in one of the many books his sanctuary of knowledge held within its walls. 

And yet the throne room was filled with a deafening silence; the only thing he could hear was his heart. He frowned, you had said you’d be waiting for him and expected for you to receive him but your absence made his heart sting with the disappointment of your broken promise. 

“Petal?”

The vampire called out for you but he only received his own echo as a response. He made his way to the library, his long strides eating up the distance in large strides. But you were not there. Your scent was not as strong as it should be if you were there just as you had promised. 

He hurried to your room, his steps frantic as he entered the large space with the tall cherry blossom tree standing proudly in the middle of the room. The air was soft with the smell of the pink flowers but he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t smell you. 

“Flower, are you here?”

But here was no response at all. He frowned. The room was empty. The bedding was neatly made, the small table where the vase with roses was untouched with some petals already falling onto the surface. His eyes fell upon your desk, where the rose he had given you lay, still vibrant and fresh. Next to it was a letter. A letter that bore your father’s seal. 

Gwi snatched the letter with the broken seal, his dark eyes running over the words inked into the paper. Each word, each threat was enough to make his heart burn with the flames of desperation. His eyes turned crimson in anger, his knuckles white as he crumbled the letter before it fell to the ground. 

The realisation that you had been taken against your will filled him with a fury he had never known. His normally composed demeanour shattered, leaving only the raw, primal anger of a man who had been robbed of his most precious treasure.

He turned around, his robes flying behind him as the vampire lord left his underground palace. His domain. His kingdom to retrieve his stolen flower. His beauty among the darkness of his world. 

Gwi’s steps were purposeful as he left his sanctuary, the cool night air kissed his sharp features as the nature of his existence resurfaced from the chains of his control. His eyes mirrored the colour of blood, his fangs elongated and there was a sudden thirst that took a hold of his mind. But it wasn't because of hunger. It was a thirst for revenge. 

The journey was a blur. His supernatural speed carried him through the city and the woods before he arrived at the mansion of one of the most powerful men in Joseon. The Chief Counsellor didn’t know that by taking the vampire’s petal he had just signed his death sentence. 

The guards at the entrance saw a dark figure emerging from the woods. The moon was not high enough to illuminate the dark path ahead. But the red glint in his eyes gave him away. Gwi approached the two guards, his hands around their throats before he lifted them off the ground, their feet kicking the air. He hissed at them before their necks snapped with a single movement of his wrists. The bodies crumbled to the dirty floor and he advanced, his walk commanding as he entered the mansion of the traitor he had nurtured under his throne of blood and darkness.

“My Lord, is there anything else I can do for you?”

The Chief Counsellor didn’t even look at Ji-ho, his loya albeit young servant before he was dismissing him for the night. 

“Don’t bother. Tomorrow we are leaving to meet with the Crown Prince. Make sure everything is in order.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The boy bowed down before he walked backwards and left the room, sliding the door shut as he walked down the corridor with quick steps. The flickering candles cast long shadows on the walls. Ji-ho’s footsteps echoed softly down the dimly lit corridor, his mind occupied with the tasks the demanding noble man had put over his shoulders. As he rounded a corner, the sound of a commotion reached his ears and he couldn’t help but fasten his pace. Curiosity being his worst enemy. 

He looked over one of the corners of the nearest wall, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw a tall man dressed in noble robes effortlessly dispatching the guards who tried to block his path. The vampire's movements were swift and lethal, his strength undeniable.

Fear gripped Ji-ho's heart, he turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the Chief Counsellor's room, his breath coming in quick, panicked gasps. Along the way, he alerted more guards, his voice urgent and breathless.

“We must protect the lord! The vampire is here!”

The guards followed the young servant all to the Chief Counsellor’s room. The smell of panic rotted through the air, the clinking of the swords could be heard at the distance as well as the frantic steps of the guards sprinting to the old man’s study. 

Ji-ho slid open the doors without knocking, the Chief Counsellor looked up from his desk with a frown between his brows and frustration in his gaze. But as the guards swarmed into the room, he stood up and demanded an explanation from his servant. 

“What is the meaning of this?”

“My Lord… the vampire-”

But Ji-ho never got to finish that sentence as the doors to the study opened harshly and in came Gwi, his once white robes were now crimson with the blood of his obsession. The hallways were strewn with the bodies of those who had tried to stop him, their lifeless forms a testament to his wrath. He moved with a predator's grace, his senses heightened by the scent of blood and the urgency to find you.

“Get him!”

The Chief Counsellor ordered and the battle began. Gwi licked his lips before he fought the men who tried to keep you away from him. Each strike, each stab was proof of his maddening love. How dare your father take you from him? How dare he keep you to himself? 

How. 

Dare. 

He. 

Blood spilled over the floor and over the once beautiful ornates that decorated the room. The white tapestry was now tainted in crimson and the shouts and clanks of swords filled the room. One of the guards sent a direct attack to Gwi but he managed to dodge it yet the sword knocked over some candles, the flames quickly devouring the fabric that hung from the ceiling. 

It reeked of death as he drank the last drop of blood from the remaining guard before he dropped the body to the floor. His eyes were red with fury and the need, the urge to kill. With slow steps Gwi approached the Chief Counsellor. Ji-ho had tried to stop the vampire but his futile attempt ended with his blood on Gwi’s lips and his body on the ground already starting to get enveloped in the flames. 

“Where is she?”

Your father swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure as he lifted his chin in defiance even when he knew he was already dead by the single glint in the vampire’s eyes. 

“Y-you’ll never find her.”

And yet, his voice trembled and stuttered despite his attempt to sound powerful and confident for the immortal being who now threatened to kill him with his gaze alone. But the monster smiled, a cold, dead smile that stretched over his handsome and sharp features while the cracking of the engulfing flames was the only thing he could hear. 

“I will find her. But the longer I take, the more painful your death is going to be.”

With a swift motion, Gwi grabbed the Chief Counsellor by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The older man struggled, his hands clawing at the vampire’s iron grip, but it was futile for his strength was far beyond anything a human could match.

“Where. Is. She?”

He demanded again. His deep voice a deathly whisper. Your father gasped for breath, his eyes widening with fear until he managed to choke out the words that were no longer enough to save his life. 

“I-in her room… down the h-hallway-”

Gwi’s crimson eyes reflected the flames that were consuming the room and most likely the entire mansion but those flames were also a reflection of the fire that burned his heart. With a snarl, he threw the Chief Counsellor aside. The man hit the ground with a sickening thud, unconscious or worse but Gwi couldn’t care. Not when the fire spread and the smoke thickened. Not when he had to find you. 

His heart pounded with a mix of rage and desperation as he sprinted down the corridor, his robes billowing behind him, the flames danced over the walls but his mind was focused on getting to you. With urgent steps he reached the bedroom at the end of the hallway, the double doors banged open against the adjacent walls as he opened them with his vampiric strength.

The moment his gaze laid on you, he felt his heart drop. His eyes returned to their usual deep brown colour as he dropped to his knees next to the silk bedding. His hands, so rough and tainted with so much blood cupped your face with delicate movements as if you were a glass doll he was afraid to break. 

“Petal, wake up.”

But you didn’t stir. You couldn’t. The drugs held you under their chains and left you dancing in the realm of nothingness, of sleep. Of darkness. A tightness gripped at his chest and his eyes stung with tears, whether they were due to the smoke or real fear for the life of his petal he didn’t know anymore.

“(y/n), please.”

He brushed a strand of hair out of your face, even in sleep you were still so beautiful. The very vision of beauty he had missed through his eternal life. He lifted you up, pressing your body against his chest but just as he was about to slide his other arm under your knees, the rackling of the chains rattled against the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. 

Gwi looked down at your wrist, his lips parted at the sight of the iron cuff that kept you tied to the room. To your past. To this house. To the life you had escaped when you had taken his hand that very day in the gardens. When he decided he wanted to keep you for himself. 

Gwi lay you back down on the bedding, his hands tingling with the need to keep you in his arms. But he needed to free you. 

His eyes painted crimson once more as his hands gripped the shackles. His knuckles turned white with the force as he gripped them tightly and with a grunt he broke the hot iron. Your skin was marred by the tightness and it pained him to see your pristine skin so hurt and damaged. 

“I’ll get you out of here.”

Gwi picked you up once more, one hand around your shoulders and the other under your knees before he stood up with you cradled in his arms, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Which you were. You were his treasure in his world of darkness. 

The flames had spread rapidly, the heat was becoming unbearable but he knew he had to get you out of that burning inferno. He moved swiftly, his heightened senses guiding him through the maze of corridors and fire. 

The smoke was thick, stinging his eyes and filling his lungs, but he pressed on, driven by a fierce determination to get you to safety. The mansion groaned under the weight of the fire, beams collapsing and walls crumbling but Gwi's steps were sure and purposeful.

Gwi carried you out of the burning mansion, his grip tightening around your smaller form as he pressed you against his chest. He could feel your shallow breaths against his neck, could hear the weak pulse of your heart through his enhanced senses. The beautiful blue dress you had once worn was now ashen and dirty. 

He knelt on the ground, the estate consuming in flames behind him as he looked down at you. Your red hairpin caught the moonlight and he sighed as he had you in his arms once more. 

“My sweet flower, you have to wake up. Open your eyes, for me. Please-”

One of his hands supported your back while the other cradled your face, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek. He sighed, closing his eyes as his forehead rested against yours. Feeling a tsunami of emotions drown his heart. The desperation, the anger, the fear came crumbling down as he looked at you with such tenderness that belied the rampage that had gripped his soul and left the estate in a bloody bath of flames and ashes. 

“Let’s go home, flower.”

And with that, he picked you up once more, carrying you in his strong embrace through the forest and back to the underground palace. Where you belonged. In his dark domain. In his kingdom of the night. By his side. 

The sound of soft leaves rustling filled your ears. That was the first thing you were aware of before you were to open your eyes. There was a headache that nagged at the back of your skull, causing a groan to escape your lips. Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. The scent of the cherry blossom reached your senses and you instantly calmed down. You knew where you were. You felt instantly safe when you recognised that you were back in the underground palace. 

With slow movements you sat up and noticed you were alone in the room. The only company you had were the shadows casted by the flickering candles around the large bedroom. 

But it didn’t make any sense. The last thing you remembered was going to your father’s estate upon his daring letter. You remembered all the rage you had felt as you read his words, all the frustration to the man who was supposed to protect you but in reality he only used you as his pawn in a game you never agreed to play. 

You remembered the tea he had given you, the dizziness that had wrapped your mind. And how he had looked at you in disdain before your world turned black. 

With a sigh, you looked around the bedroom and your eyes caught sight of the rose Gwi had given you the day he left. It was on your desk, the petals were withering away and an immense sadness pulled at the strings of your heart at the sight of the sad flower that had once been so beautiful. 

You pulled the covers from your body, noticing you were no longer wearing the blue hanbok but were now in a simple white gown, the skirts not as puffy as your usual dresses, the softness of the fabric was more delicate against your skin. And your hair was down, cascading behind your back as you stood up. 

The drug was still in your system and you stumbled, catching yourself against the full-length mirror in your room. You looked up and watched the reflection of yourself, feeling a burning desire that consumed your senses. You were alone in the bedroom. But you craved his presence. It could only have been Gwi who had taken you back to the underground palace. 

Your eyes filled with tears with the need that cursed through your veins and you forced yourself to part from the mirror, walking across the room and through the corridor that led to the throne room. 

Gwi sat on his throne, the candles around him sharpened his ethereal beauty. He heard your footsteps before you entered the spacious room. He smelled your delectable scent as you approached him more and more with each passing second. His heart quickened and his knuckles turned white as fisted his hands over his lap. 

“My Lord…”

Your voice was soft. Shy even. But he didn’t look at you. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when his mind screamed at him to be angry at you and his heart whispered at him to be relieved that you were fine and alive with him. 

From the corner of his eye he saw you move through the room, your steps hesitant and he could practically taste whatever herb your father had given you mingling with the scent that kept him addicted to you. 

“My Lord, please.”

His eyes met yours in a cruel dance of emotions. You swallowed as he met your gaze, for his eyes were as dark as ever but you saw no emotion whatsoever in his dark pools of eternal secrets. There was no storm of emotions in them, no warmth, only the coldness of his authority that drowned you in a freezing embrace of regret. 

“You disobeyed me.”

Gwi stood up and you took a step back. His towering height made you shrink within yourself. You had never seen him so cold and stern with you. Not like this. He began descending the steps that led to his throne slowly, like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey. 

“I told you to not leave the underground palace.”

His hissed words made you flinch and you continued to walk backwards as he approached you, instinctively trying to put some kind of distance between you and the barely contained anger that held his heart prisoner. 

“Are my orders nothing to you?”

You shook your head, gasping silently as your back collided with one of the columns in the large space. 

“No, My Lord.”

His eyes narrowed at your response, his sharp features hardening even further. His approach was deliberate, each step getting him closer and closer to you, the candlelight accentuated his fury simmering beneath the surface and you found yourself fisting the fabric of your white skirt that kissed the ground. 

“You defied me. You risked everything—your safety, your life—all because you refused to obey a simple command.”

You pressed yourself against the column, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of his disappointment was crushing, and the fear that he might truly hate you for your disobedience was almost too much to bear. Your mind raced for an explanation, a way to make him understand, but words failed you under the intensity of his gaze.

Gwi halted just inches away from you, his towering figure casting a long shadow that enveloped you entirely. The air around you felt charged, thick with tension as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath.

“I-I was scared. I thought I could handle it, I thought-”

“You thought wrong.”

Tears filled your eyes at the harsh and deep voice in which he spoke to you. It made your heart clench in your chest with the knowledge that you had disappointed him. That you had angered him. 

“I’m sorry..”

You lowered your gaze, not being able to keep eye contact for much longer. He frowned down at you, taking a step closer that narrowed the space between you both even more that had you not been conflicted with your own emotions, your breath would have hitched in your throat at the proximity. Gwi's expression softened for a fleeting moment, the mask of anger slipping to reveal the turmoil within. But just as quickly, the hardness returned, and he took another step closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Sorry?”

He laughed, a humourless laugh that made a shiver run down your spine. You looked into his eyes, even if you wanted to look away his grasp wouldn’t allow it as his fingers travelled from your chin to collar your neck instead, keeping you pressed against the wall behind your back.

“You think sorry is enough? That man you call your father has only ever used you for his own interests. I said I would protect you but you can’t just go wandering into the lion’s den and expect to walk out unharmed.”

His grip tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, the barely contained fury that threatened to boil over at any moment. But within that anger, you could also sense something deeper—a fear that ran so deep it twisted every thought, a fear of losing you.

“Forgive me, My Lord.”

“Silence.”

His command forced your lips shut. His voice was a mixture of something else. Something deeper. Darker. Something almost like a fierce desperation. 

“You don’t understand do you? You are the only thing in this cursed world that matters to me, and you throw yourself into danger as if your life means nothing.”

You swallowed, he felt the motion through his palm that still held your neck. The words hung in the air, leaving you waiting. Expecting for what he had to say when he had already bared his soul out to you. 

“I cannot lose you. Not to that man. Not to whatever fate we tangled ourselves in. I can’t.”

Gwi spoke through clenched teeth, his feelings a whirlwind of emotions within him that he couldn’t bring himself to part from you nor to step closer to the flame he so desperately wanted to burn in. 

There were many things left unsaid. Many emotions that you weren’t quick enough to grasp. But there was a certain warmth in his gaze that was there, for just a split second. A swirling of emotions, the battle between mind and heart. And you surrendered yourself against him. 

“Do you love me?”

The question left your lips in a soft whisper. And yet, it was loud enough to break the fog in his mind. His eyes softened, his lips parted as he stared down at you with so much sadness in his dark gaze that you couldn’t help the tear that rolled down your cheek. But his silence was like a dagger to your heart. 

“You have never said anything but your eyes tell a different story… Forgive me, I thought you loved me as well.”

You dropped your gaze, your hands released the tight fist you had on the white skirt of your dress as you felt the weight of his silence press down on you. You danced in the middle of his secrecy. Of his silent words that left his soul as his grip on your neck tightened ever so slight. 

“You speak as if you harbour such feelings for me.”

His voice was softer, more gentle. But it was that dark symphony of words that made your heart race and your mind spiral with emotions too complex to understand. 

“That’s because I do.”

You looked up once more, meeting his intense gaze that held a softness in such darkness you had never seen before. 

“You claimed me as your own; unknowingly you claimed my heart as well.”

Gwi shook his head, the words he was hearing were not meant to leave your lips. He wasn’t meant to feel his dead heart come back alive with such a declaration of devotions that went beyond your service to him. 

“You cannot love me.”

His words were laced with so much pain, whispered to the air as if he was confessing the biggest of sins. Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart aching for the man that owned you in more ways than he should. 

“Why?”

A question so small yet filled with pain. You couldn’t stop looking up at him. Waiting for him to give you his heart as well. 

“Because you will end up hurt, petal. And the single thought of you being hurt pains me to no end.”

“Then don’t. Don’t hurt me. Do not break my heart.”

He knew the risks. He knew that loving you openly would endanger your life more than it already was with the mere knowledge of you living under his roof. But he couldn’t deny it anymore. He couldn’t resist the pull; not from hunger, not from obsession. The pull of his heart to yours. 

“Please.”

You barely uttered your plea before his lips smashed with yours. The intensity of it took your breath away, his lips moving against yours with a desperate urgency. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against yours as you stood on your tiptoes and kissed him back. 

You responded in kind, your hands clutching at his robes as you kissed him with equal fervour. The world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unbridled passion.

Gwi's hand tightened on your neck, not in a painful way but with a possessive intensity that made your pulse quicken. His other hand slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer as if trying to meld your bodies together. The taste of him was addictive and you craved more, more, more. You whimpered softly as he broke the kiss, your lips were left tingling with the sensation of your passion. His eyes opened to gaze into your own as you both panted softly into each other’s mouths. 

“Love me. Love with me.”

You craned up your head, wanting nothing more than for him to take you. To mark you. To love you in such an intimate way. 

“I love for you, my petal.”

You moaned as he kissed you again, your hands cradling his face as he pressed you to him in suppressed emotions that spilled like a tidal wave. 

Gwi's lips moved down to your jaw, trailing kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his hand slid from your waist to your lower back, pulling you even closer. The sheer need in his touch made your heart race, each kiss igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with every second.

A flame of love.

August/12/2024

A/N: Want to be tagged? Let me know in the comments!

Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

[mlm-writer]

The Mountain God (Choi Soobin x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Choi Soobin x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: Mature Words: 1998 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 31 - Folklore Note: Inspired by this song (open after reading if you don't want any spoilers). Reader is an adult and is mentioned to have dating experience. Check out this cover of the song btw. Tags: horror(?), maybe more of a thriller?, some action, first meeting, kissing and dancing under the moonlight<3, fluff and mentioned character death

The dry leaves crunched under your foot as you found your way into another clearing. Cold air hurt your throat as you struggled breathing from your hike. Once again your tent and your friends were nowhere to be found. “It was somewhere around here…” You mumbled to yourself. You moved your torch around, the bright white light only showing you more and more trees. “Taehyun-ah! Yeojun-ah!” You called out for your friends. No one answered your call under the tall trees and light of the full moon. A puff of air visualised itself in front of your mouth. You trudged on to the closest path. It was supposed to be just a quick piss, so you didn’t bring your phone. Kakao maps would’ve been great by now. 

In the distance your light reflected off white strips of fabric hanging from the low-hanging tree branches. You squinted your eyes, double-checking their presence. Then, a large blob of white seemed to move under one of the trees. You cautiously slowed your pace, narrowing your eyes in the dark in the hope of acquiring a clearer vision. When you discerned a vaguely human shape, you felt relieved. Surely the other guy would have a phone. Who nowadays did not have one? 

You quickened your pace. “Excuse me? I’m lost, can you help me?” The figure, which sat on his knees by a large tree, turned towards you as you approached. His handsome and innocent face greeted you with a big smile. White teeth that matched the strips of fabric around him welcomed you on this cold night. Though the smile was such a stark white, it warmed your chest. 

His beauty was so unexpected, you slowed to a still. “Lost? This late? You are really fearless,” he commented. He let out a chuckle and grabbed a wooden cup from next to him. “Come have a drink, how long have you been lost for?” You frowned at his odd behaviour, but you slowly walked closer nonetheless, your grip on your torch tight. If he turned out to be a creep, you could whack him across the head with it. At least that was the plan you had cooked up in those few seconds you had to come up with one. 

When you stood next to him, you saw the cup held some liquid with leaves floating on top. They did not seem like tea leaves to you, but rather like the leaves that scattered the ground as well. There was no steam coming from the liquid either. “No thanks, I’ve only been walking around for a few minutes. Can I use your phone to send my location to my friends?” You looked him over. His white clothes looked like that of a buddhist. The red beads around his wrist confirmed it. The clothes were a little dirty, indicating he had been a while in the mountains as well. 

The man kept that same sun-blessed smile on his face as he put the cup down. “My phone? Sorry, I left it at the temple, since I just came out to pray.” He gestured to the stone statues that sat by the large tree. He had indeed been kneeling right in front of them. 

“Oh sorry, I interrupted your prayer,” you quickly apologised with a polite bow. You took a step back and gestured for him to continue. You didn’t know there was a temple on this mountain that was still in use. Most of them were historic sites that were just used to attract tourists. Mostly artists came to them nowadays to draw and paint the well-preserved temples of the mountain god. 

The man shook his hand and stood up. “Don’t worry about it. A traveller in need is more important. Not helping you would be more against my beliefs.” Now he was standing, you realised he was really tall. His lips were stretched in a smaller, but no less kind smile. “I’m Choi Soobin. If you come to the temple, I can lend you my phone.” You bowed to him and gave him your name. He repeated it with his gentle voice. Your name had never sounded this heavenly. 

“So what did you come to do here? Just camping with your friends?” Soobin asked after a minute of silent walking. He was holding no torch. You assumed he was used to walking the path to the temple and needed no visual aide aside from the moonlight that reached the ground with ease during this season. 

“We came to see the total lunar eclipse. The best view is away from the city. You live in the temple?” Soobin hummed, confirming your assumption. He then asked about your friends, your life. It was easy to talk to him. He did not share much about himself, other than his age and the first time he went to the mountain. They said the mountain god guarded the mountain, but even a god got hungry. Soobin’s friends dared him to spend the night, but he left his tent halfway through when he heard a growling in the distance. When he got you on the proverbial edge of your seat with his scary story, he gave you a jumpscare. You hit him and laughed. 

You almost forgot you were not on a beautiful and romantic night stroll when the old wooden gates appeared at the end of the small mountain path. This place was long due some renovation, but you didn’t mention it. “Here we are,” Soobin stated as you stood before the closed doors. He seemed almost sad that you had arrived. 

“Are you a priest?” You asked out of nowhere, the look on his face all too familiar to you. You had your fair share of dates and that was the face of a man who wanted to kiss you. 

Soobin shook his head, his fluffy black hair flopping around with the movement. “No, just… a pilgri-” You did not let him finish. You found the way to the back of his neck; you pulled him down, your lips meeting his. He was cold, extremely so. Not surprising, since his white clothes seemed to not be all that thick. You were happy to warm this poor pilgrim up. When you pulled back, your eyes met his wide-spread ones. “Traveller-nim, let me dance with you.” 

You laughed as you took a step back. “With what music?” You questioned him. He seemed to clearly have no answer to that. “Besides, you’re ice cold. You should go inside to warm up.” 

Soobin swallowed thickly. Then his frigid hand took yours. He started singing, swaying you around on the small path. You turned your torch off, letting the moonlight show you his captivating eyes and alluring lips. Soobin’s voice could be deep and intimate or light like a fairy. Your heart swayed along with each step taken. It was when the night got a little darker, that you remembered your friends. “Oh! The eclipse will start soon.” You stopped to look up at the sky. Soobin quickly opened the temple doors and gestured for you to enter. He seemed to remember your friends waiting on you too. 

You followed him inside, but when the gates closed behind you, something seemed off. There was only light from the fires that surrounded a large courtyard. Two glistening red lights seemed to watch you from the darkness inside a building. “Is everyone else sleeping?” You inquired, turning around to face Soobin. He was leaning against the doors, his head hung low and his black bangs covering his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Soobin whispered, voice quivering. The moonlight drained away and was replaced with the red light of the total lunar eclipse. In the light of the blood moon, everything was different. Soobin looked up, but his face was no longer what it was. Those captivating eyes that looked at you like he wanted to kiss you forever under the moonlight were now glowing red, the sclerae all black. His deep-sunken eyes stared directly into your soul. A second pair of slightly smaller eyes appeared underneath the first pair, just beside his nostrils. They all stared down at you as a smile forced itself onto his ghastly face. You had seen many smiles from him, but nothing like this. It turned your own blood cold, all heat draining from your body. You took a step back in fear, but froze when there was a voice behind you. 

“Well done, Soobin-ah. It seems you finally will be able to move on to the next life,” came the growling voice from the building where you had seen the red lights. You dared to glance around. From the darkness stepped a monstrously huge tiger into the red light. Its great fangs were bared for you to witness. You backed away, your back eventually hitting Soobin’s cold, rigid body. 

“Soobin-sshi, what’s going on?” His ghoulishly icy hands grabbed you by the shoulders. He whispered another apology, before pushing you towards the tiger. The beast circled you, a deep, mocking chuckle coming from its hungry mouth. 

“You had me concerned there for a moment, Soobin-ah. You have backed out so many times. You really want to pass on, don’t you?” You were hugging your torch to your chest, trembling in fear as the tiger spoke. “And such a nice, young prey you have chosen for me too… I can see your long life thread and I will delight in snapping it.” You repeated your earlier question, screaming it now with more panic in your voice. The tiger laughed at you derisively. “Let me explain it to you, traveller.” Every word coming from the mountain god gave you the shivers. “Soobin was once like you, unafraid of me and my lands. He died that night he told you about.” You swallowed thickly, casting glances at the ghost that you kissed. “Those that find their end in my stomach must serve me for eternity. The only way for them to pass on to the next life is to bring me a prey that will replace them.” The tiger took a deep sniff of you, like you were a steaming pot of stew on the fire. “Do you get it now?” 

The terror forced the tears from your eyes. Your voice trembled in your last plea. “Please, spare me.” You forced the words past your trembling lips, each word strained and vibrating with dread. It was the last Soobin could handle. He suddenly dashed forward, slamming his body into that of the tiger. It was taken off guard, the beast sliding away from you across the courtyard. In that small window of opportunity, the ghost took your hand and dragged you through the doors, back onto the small path you took to get here. His footsteps were inhumanly quick and you struggled to keep up. However, the growling and roaring of a tiger behind you was great motivation. 

“Listen to me, go back to the tree where we met. Climb as far as you can. Amitābha protects that tree and will protect you. Stay there until sunrise.” Though he still looked like a demon, you saw the angelic man you met earlier that night in those devilish eyes. You could only nod at his instructions. He sent you ahead with a gust of wind and before you realised how, you found yourself in that tree, awaiting sunrise. 

When your friends found you the next day, you did not have the words to explain what happened last night, nor why you were in the tree. You chose to say nothing, fearing that sharing the story as truth would end with you in a psych ward. You would wonder if it was all just a nightmare or hallucination, were it not for the beads that had appeared on your wrist. Sometimes, when you glanced at them and the light hit it just right, a familiar smile reflected off the red wood that adorned your wrist. 

—————

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[sylusjinwoon]

{ 105 }

the jealous husband.

barnabas tharmr x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; self indulgent; some canon divergence/spoilers for ff16; soft depictions of intimacy; minors don't interact.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

{ it's always been just him and me together, so i bet all i have on that furrowed brow | and at least in this lifetime, we're sticking together. | me and my husband, we're sticking together. }

in a faraway land surrounded by treacherous seas lay a dark kingdom simply known as waloed, the tale of its founding being passed on throughout all of valisthea as the people came to know of the name barnabas tharmr-

the last king, and the man whom a young queen was proud to call her husband.

the sea breeze was felt against her skin, carrying the scent of the salty waves as the cool air slowly roused her from her slumber. she could feel her brows furrow in response to the cold, reaching out to the spot beside her mattress as her hands blindly searched in desperation for the familiar warmth of her husband.

when her hands met with the cold sheets, the queen's eyes immediately open, her voice coming out as hoarse when she calls out to him.

"barnabas?"

her eyes take in the dim lighting of the room, seeing the candles flickering in response to the ocean winds as it caused a wave of goosebumps to erupt all across her skin. she trails her gaze towards the clerestory windows, seeing the moon and stars at its peak.

"the night has only just begun, and yet still, he isn't here with me."

a shiver courses through her veins, making the woman sit up from their shared bed. her hands twist a bit at her gossamer nightgown, feeling a deep sense of yearning for her husband. for surely, if he will not join her in bed, then she supposes she would just need to come to him instead.

she stretches her arms then, allowing the velvet mantles to slide off of her form as her bare feet meets with the cobblestone floors. a tremble was felt coursing through her as the iciness seemed to spread throughout her body. the candles and lit torches did little to ward off the lingering cold, and she found herself becoming desperate for her husband's touch.

wrapping her arms around her chest to provide at least some protection against the cold, the young queen allows another shiver to run down her spine when she opens the door of her bedchambers, ready to head to waloed's throne room when a silky voice calls out to her.

"and where do you think you're going, your majesty?"

she hears sleipnir calling out her name, making her let out a sigh in response. facing the man with hair the shade of spun silver, she watches him with a tired expression, seeing him bow down to her.

"king barnabas has placed me in front of your bedchamber for good measure, as he is in the midst of a meeting with the dhalmekians. he wants you safe and away from those greedy swines, specifically kupka."

upon hearing sleipnir's orders that were given to him by barnabas, she struggled to bite back her protest. the constant knight was truly the only other person whom barnabas trusted aside from her. he acted not only as barnabas' lord commander and royal advisor, but her guard as well.

it was clear from sleipnir's amused gaze that he had no intention of letting her see her husband, and this made the young woman twist at her hands in anxiety. in order to get past sleipnir, she had to think quick and efficiently.

"but kind sir, i am quite cold while remaining all alone within my bedchambers."

sleipnir's tranquil expression falters for just the briefest of seconds before returning once more. "if you are cold, your highness, then i highly recommend that you don yourself with the velvet mantles. for they were woven by the finest seamstress in all of waloed, of course."

"tis true, but, it is simply not enough. my skin feels cool to the touch, and- i fear that if i am not warmed soon, then i may fall ill."

at last, her words were what made sleipnir break. he was frowning, knowing that the loyalty to his king was trumped by the thought of his queen ever getting sick or falling into harm.

after a few moments spent in deliberation, sleipnir finally lets out a rich chuckle in response. "you are a sly woman, my queen."

she had to hide her grin, knowing that she had won after all when she gives sleipnir a curtsy, ready to head towards the throne room by herself had the constant knight not stop her in her tracks.

"ah, but i believe it is my duty as your knight to escort you myself." his armored hand gently takes a hold of her wrist, walking a few steps in front of her. despite her annoyance, she keeps her mouth shut and allows her knight to take her to barnabas.

the simple walk took only a mere few minutes, but due to how much she wished to see her husband and feel him, it felt like an eternity. sleipnir had simply stood in front of the grand oak doors carved with waloed's insignia, about to knock and announce her arrival when she simply shoved the doors open and went in herself.

the sounds of the doors slamming against the walls echoes throughout the throne room, catching the attention of barnabas and his guest. with her gaze meeting with her husband's, she ignores the other people in the room, her heart being set aflame at the mere sight of him.

barnabas met her eyes, and a part of her was fearful that he may scold her for interrupting; for ignoring sleipnir's orders to remain in bed-

but when she sees the way his lips quirked upwards in a tiny smile, she knew that all was forgiven in that very moment. not saying a word to her, barnabas beckons at her to join him, making the woman let out a happy cry in response.

as her bare feet pads across the floors of the room, she jumps into barnabas' arms, settling herself in his lap whilst letting out a content purr of his name. now within the comfort of her husband's embrace, she allows his warmth to seep into her, burying her face within the curve of his neck.

just as she was breathing in his scent, there was a low whistle heard followed by a chuckle.

"my, king barnabas, tis no wonder you've been hiding your wife away from us."

she could feel her husband stiffen in response to such an offhanded comment, a low growl heard coming from barnabas' chapped lips.

"mind repeating that, kupka?"

her throat had turned dry when she takes a peek at the man settled off to the side, taking note of his large frame. the expanse of his tunic seemed to stretch with his considerable size. his large hands that were settled on the table were decorated with several glittering rings that seemed to weigh heavily with the gaudy gemstones settled at its base. and his gaze- the way he was staring at her was nothing short of predatory.

"your wife is lovely, barnabas. i'm sure she would do well bearing sons."

she clings to barnabas, feeling him rise from his seat as he holds her tightly in his arms. the fury she could feel emanating from barnabas was palatable, so much so that she was fearful for that man's life. "teach this bastard a lesson, sleipnir, you know what to do."

"of course, my liege."

barnabas turns her away from the chaos, hearing sounds of pained grunts as sleipnir forces the dhalmekians out of the room. she was about to turn her gaze around when barnabas stops her, keeping her head still when he suddenly crashes his lips into hers.

the feeling of his chapped lips on hers makes her let out a moan, her hands creeping up against his open tunic as she traces at his scar. "b-barnabas..."

"that damn kupka, i knew he was going to try my patience once he laid his eyes on you." his muscles were still taut, even when he settled back down on his throne. as she met his gaze, she tries to soothe him, massaging away his furrowed brow when she apologizes to him.

"i'm sorry, my love. i should not have left our shared chambers, but...but i felt so cold and needed your warmth."

upon hearing her confession, his expression simmers just the tiniest bit, shutting his eyes as he tries to calm himself by breathing in the scent of her hair. she closes her eyes, feeling the tip of his nose trace against the crown of her hair for a brief moment before another low growl was ripped from his throat.

"that damned kupka, i'll kill him myself. i'll summon my black blade and execute him on the spot-"

her eyes widen in response to his jealous fury, and before he could stand to carry out his murderous intents, she stops him by running a hand down his chest.

"stop, barnabas... there is no need to kill him when you should know that i only love you alone."

her soft touch was enough to force barnabas back down in his seat, with his darling wife facing him. her legs were settled on both sides of his waist, her gaze turning darker as they became dilated with lust for him.

"let sleipnir deal with that horrid man...why don't you stay here and keep me warm instead?"

barnabas' eyes were wild, the steel blue quality of them now hidden when he lets out a rough grunt of her name.

"temptress."

with that single phrase as her only warning, she lets out a gasp when her back meets with the grand marble table, nearly wincing at the impact had it not been for the way barnabas kept his powerful arms around her form.

barnabas keeps his knee pressed over her soaked core, feeling it dampen the cloth that was settled between her legs as she felt her husband putting pressure against it. "gonna make you scream my name as i fill you with seeds from my cock alone- gonna make that swine understand that the only sons you will be bearing is my own and no one else's."

the desperation was clear when barnabas tightly grips her nightgown, tearing it off in a single sweep as she was left completely bare for him in mere seconds. when he sees the cream material that kept her slickness hidden away from him, he lets out a guttural groan. "look at how wet you've become, and i haven't even touched you yet."

"i beg of you, please barnabas! i-i need you!" the ache felt between her legs was almost too much to bear, as she could feel the nectars of her arousal sliding down her leg, completely and utterly ready for him to just take her.

"have patience, love." barnabas' voice had taken on an almost deeper tone, feeling his large, calloused hands feel the weight of her naked breast before giving it a squeeze. the sensation was enough to make her arch against the table, mewling in response to his touches.

he says her name once more before leaning down to capture her perky nipples into his mouth, earning a breathless moan from her. as her hands delved themselves into barnabas' midnight strands of hair, she allows him to worship her. she could feel the way his hot mouth wraps around her breast, his teeth teasing at her sensitive skin as pinpricks of pleasure was felt coursing through her.

"such a good wife you are f'me." barnabas murmurs against her skin, making her whine in response as she clings to her husband. he spends some time teasing her, playing with her breast before smirking darkly at her.

"d'you mind if i have a taste as well?"

by now, she was drunk off of him, uncertain as to what he meant when she weakly meets his gaze. only when his smirk widens and she could feel the way barnabas parts her legs with his hands did she finally understand.

"o-oh..."

"indeed." barnabas continues to spread her legs until her slick flower was seen, eyes honing in hungrily at her center when he allows his middle finger to enter her slickness. his ministrations causes the queen to let out a soft moan, hands clinging to his biceps the more he worked his finger in and out of her center.

"y'smell sweet, love. fuck, y'smell s'fucking sweet." as if drunk on her scent, barnabas gets down on his knees, adjusting her body so that she was settled directly on top of the table. with her sex directly in front of his eyes, barnabas leans in to press his lips against her flower, drinking all of the sweet arousal she had to offer while his fingers worked on pumping in and out of her.

the pleasure he bestowed on her was overwhelming, with her letting out sweet cries of his name, begging him to never stop. through her throes of pleasure, she tells him of her deep love and how she'll do anything for him.

"i-i am yours, barnabas! i'll do anything for you, just please, don't stop, don't stop...!" she was so close to her release, so close she could taste it-

but when she was near paradise's gates, barnabas suddenly pulls away from her, moving his mouth and fingers away from her as she let out a desperate cry of his name.

"NO! PLEASE-"

barnabas then proceeds to cover her mouth with his hand, eyes burning with lust and adoration for her when he unbuckles his belt and shoves his leather pants down with one hand, revealing his aching cock. she only saw it briefly, for a mere few seconds, before she felt barnabas completely sheath himself inside of her silken walls.

only when he was fully inside of her did he finally remove his hand from her mouth. "there...now you can be as loud as you want to, love"

when barnabas finally fulfilled her desires, she followed his commands and let out a loud whine of his name, certain that her voice could be heard echoing throughout the castle. it always felt so good becoming one with him, like they were each other's missing puzzle pieces- like they could never truly be whole without the other.

as barnabas continued his steady pace, thrusting in and out of her, he buries his face within the curve of her neck, letting out soft groans before speeding up. the squelching and obscene sounds of their lovemaking was enough to make her cry out, her nails digging into the skin of his back as they raked down his form.

"the pleasure and pain y'give me, i shall never tire of it." barnabas lets out several heaving breaths in response, taking a hold of her leg before wrapping it around his waist. "you're mine and mine alone, and i'll be damned if i let someone else take you away from me."

with each word he says to her, the more powerful his strokes became, making her softly moan in response. tears of pleasure were dotting her vision as she could feel barnabas aiming for a particular spot inside of her, speeding up his thrusts while his hands squeezes at her breasts.

"come...come f'me. come f'your king now."

that was all the urging she needed when she clenches her eyes shut, crying out to him as barnabas was heard roaring in response to his own release. as her walls clamped around barnabas' cock in a tight grip, she could feel him emptying his seed deep inside of her, painting her walls white as he stilled his hips, making sure that not a drop was spilled.

keeping a tight grip on her body, barnabas continues to thrust weakly back and forth from her core, making sure that he had emptied himself completely before stilling his hips. with a groan, he falls against his beloved wife as they both caught their breath after such an intense session of lovemaking.

when the post lovemaking clarity settled in, the woman lets out a content sigh, allowing her lips to trace at barnabas dampened temple. "my darling king...that was wonderful..."

deciding to be a bit cheeky, she moves her hand to give her king a gentle smack on his bum, earning a grunt from him as she giggles. "perhaps i should make you jealous more often?" she muses while licking the shell of his ear, earning a shiver from her dark king.

but what she wasn't expecting was for him to actually grow inside of her, earning a gasp from her parted lips as barnabas moved away from her. he gives her another smirk as a warning before placing both hands on her waist.

"then i suppose you wouldn't mind me releasing my jealousy on you once more?"

cue a sweet giggle from the young queen as she brushes her lips against his jawline, "by all means do continue, my lord."

a.n. - i had a dream about barnabas a couple of nights ago where i woke up and searched for him. in it, i find him settled on his throne, and he smiles at me, beckoning me to come closer. so i do, and i settle myself on his lap and bury my face within the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of the ocean and steel that wafts off of him.

this was written as a sort of self indulgent continuation of that dream. i love barnabas so much 🥹🌌.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Jess!!! (According to Jess)

(A/N: This is a breakdown of my OC with a twist. This is also set well past the Gravity Arc, so beware of spoilers ahead)

...

Hey there everyone! I'm Jess! (She/Her) 😁

I was told that I've been getting some love here, so I stole a questionnaire thingy from @thelaundrybitch (go check out her OCs, they're delightful and I wish we lived in the same universe), Frankenstein'd it a little, and did the thing!

Content Warnings for sex, drugs, violence, and more of our favorite things.

Hey, it's me, don't tell her, but she's got a habit of downplaying herself, so I'm gonna proofread this shit for accuracy. 😘

- R

Physical Stats

Full name: Jessica Anne Jones

Nicknames/Alies': Jess, Princess <-mine.

Born: October 9, 1996 (28 yrs old)

Star Sign: Libra, but I don't put a lot of stock in astrology

Place of Birth: A stained mattress in a torched out crack house in Queens, in between bumps of whatever god my birth portal had decided to pray to that evening.

She gets poetic about shit she doesn't want to talk about.

Species: 100% Pure, Unfiltered Human... Until my mutation. Now I'm not entirely sure what I am. Mutant, I guess? I'm still effectively human, but I'm a bit tougher, I suppose.

D says she's somehow both in the middle and way beyond all of us. All I know is they fucked with the Ooze. Then they fucked with my girl and found out.

Height: -5'-

Perfect

Weight: -115lbs-

Perfect

Gender: -Woman (mostly). You know, I've never really gotten the whole "gender," thing. I'm generally pretty fem, but can't honestly say that I've landed on *one*. Pronouns are she/her, and I look like my assigned gender, so that's what people call me by default, but I'll honestly answer to anything.-

Perfect

Skin: Pale as fuck. I used to have to try really hard to avoid going out in the sun because I tan/burn easily. NOT ANYMORE. I blame them *points vaguely behind me*, so thanks? I guess? I've also got freckles.

Okay, so when she says "freckles" I know you're picturing a cute little dusting here and there, but girl looks like the night sky. It's unreal. -They taste pretty good, too 😈-

Scars:

Right ankle where I had to remove a tracking chip.

Bitch carved it out with a broken bottle like a fucking G.

Left eyebrow, left upper arm, right abdomen from when I got beaten up while I was kidnapped once.

Not my best moment.

Very light vein scars up my left arm that spread up across my shoulder and back, disappearing into my hair. From being injected with the Ooze against my will.

You should've seen her trash talking those dicks. If I hadn't been so fucking scared I'd have been proud as hell.

Eyes: blue-gray

They're like the color of the sky right before sunrise starts, but they've got a little gold right in the middle that looks like a sunflower. When she's really mad, they turn kind of green.

Hair: Wavy and down to my mid back, black with brown bangs. Usually up in a messy bun during the day. Usually down and styled when working. Braided buns when I'm *working*.

Full on opium-style addicted to her amber conditioner. -very grabbable 😈-

Clothing: I usually try to be pretty put together, while still rocking the traditional graphic-tee-jeans/skirt-boots nerd combo. When I want to get dressy I like to keep it classy, the "little black dress" is pretty standard. I do still have my Maid of Honor dress from April's wedding because I can't bring myself to get rid of it: a floor length vintage green silk number with a slit that's probably illegal in some counties in Utah. It's gorgeous, but It's still in the back of the closet, because I'm not sure how Red would feel about me wearing it. That night was kind of intense.

I did not know she still had that dress...

Make up: Very light/natural 90% of the time. Classy neutrals while I'm working.

Okay, so she's got this cherry red lipstick she wears on special occasions that don't wear off for HOURS, and I owe the lady who came up with that shit a bottle of whatever the fuck she wants.

Tattoos: the Kanji for "Beauty" (美) in red on my right shoulder. I moved back to LA for ten months, and about two weeks into that particular adventure I got pretty homesick. Red's always been my Beast. 🥰

This was before we figured our shit out, and I swear when I saw it for the first time I almost told her everything.

Piercings: ears: Lobes (3L/3R - usually with something dangley in the first hole), Cartilage (2L/3R, usually rings and occasionally a cuff), left nostril (ring/post), right eyebrow (ring/bar)

She had a navel piercing, but it kept catching on my shell, so that one's on me. She says it's fine, but it was really hot, so kinda bummed about that.

Signature Color: don't have one

Mine.

Occupation: Musician. I play piano and sing at a bar called Songbirds.

Also a professional badass.

Hobbies/Likes: D&D/TTRPGs, music, arts and crafts

She's on that nerd shit and it's hot as hell.

Spirituality: Eclectic Pagan. My spirituality is pretty fluid, but it's hard not to be in awe of the natural world when I'm in love with a force of nature.

Could say the same about her.

Illnesses/Disabilities: I'm Autistic with lower social needs, but higher sensory needs. Red's skin is my favorite stim.

She also likes hugs. 🥰

Drugs/Alcohol: I don't really drink, never developed a taste. Big fan of weed. Helps with my body's sensory bullshit. Try to get Red to take it more to ease the pain he has in his *everywhere*. Made the mistake of treating the boys' weed as if anything about them is normal, and ended up falling asleep in Raph's lap.

She was adorable for the 5 minutes she was awake.

Relationships:

Casey: my big brother. We were both in foster care and ended up in the same group home. We looked out for each other, and the day he turned 18 he was at the courthouse with the guardianship papers. 🥰

When Casey somehow found out that Jess and I were going to have the "us" talk, and pulled me aside. I thought I was gonna have to beat his ass, but I didn't, which was nice.

April: Best gal pal on the planet (on par with Lani). I knew April before the boys, and when Casey told me he was thinking of proposing and then took FOR-E-VER to do so, I threatened to fucking do it myself.

Between these two, fuck, even on their own, Casey and me don't stand a chance.

Leo (He/Him): At first, I thought he didn't really like me, but then Mike explained that's just how he is with new people. Cordial. Now, while we still don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, when he isn't feeling the need to be a hard ass, he's actually a lot of fun to be around. There is a mutual respect and understanding that we have completely different and entirely valid approaches to the same things. Late night insomnia induced philosophy talks with Leo over tea are honestly incomparable. CAN GET SILLY! It doesn't happen often, but once in a while, when patrols have been easy and their long list of enemies has been quiet, he loosens up. This is my favorite Leo. I'm pretty sure it's his, too. And I'm pretty sure we all wish we got to see him more often.

They get along really well most of the time, but she's not afraid to call him out on his bullshit when he's acting like a dick. A few months ago something happened, I don't know what (relax, nothing like that), but there's been less tension.

Donnie(He/They): My best friend in the whole wide world. I help in the lab occasionally. Specs and I play D&D online, where I introduced him to my friend Cassie and they hit it off really well which oh no who expected that to happennnn..... 😈

Can't say I'm surprised. And Cassie sounds really nice.

Mikey(He/They): The whole ass reason I met the boys in the first place. S-Tier smoking buddy. I'm usually worried about him, and try to pay attention to where is head is at. A few months ago I started worrying less. Turns out it was about the time he met Lani, hmmmmmm....

I swear this bitch will try to set up just about anyone. She's a sucker for love (not that I'm complaining, believe me). Best big sis to my little bro. Really good at noticing when his heads in a rough place.

Master Splinter (He/Him): The calm in the storm. Sense of humor drier than the Sahara, but funny as HELL. My relationship with splinter is just... comfort. Safety. If I had a dad, I'd want it to be him.

She does and he is.

Cassandra (she/her): CASSIE! She was my best friend in high school and now helps runs the Reptile House at the San Diego zoo! She's also a vet/geneticist. We play D&D on Saturdays and she and D have been getting along swimmingly. 😁

Never talked to her, but seems really nice, and I've learned to trust Jess' judge of character.

Lani (They/Them/Any): Fab as FUCK. Best shopping/tik tok/rainbow fun buddy. Taught me how to do a smokey eye that FULLY DOUBLED my tips. I adore them. They're pretty new to the group, a friend of Mike's, and they both insist there's nothing more there but BITCH I SEE YOU.

Lani and Jess are a trip when they get going. Complete chaos. Fun as hell to watch. Zero volume control.

Raph (he/him): Okay, so I left this one for last, because putting any of this into tangible words is really hard. But I'm gonna try. So here it goes. and I promise I'll try and keep it short.

Meeting Raphael was like meeting a literal force of nature, it had the same feeling as if a Mountain just rocked up on you and started talking (see what I did there?). He was beautiful, and I wish there was a better way to describe him, but it's kind of the same feeling as seeing Niagara Falls for the first time. You just realize the world is so much bigger and more wonderful than you could possibly imagine.

It took is a long time to finally reach "us," longer than it should have. But now that we're here if was worth every minute. "Love" doesn't really work, it feels too normal. What we are to each other... I'm not sure there is actually a word for it. Personally, I don't believe in soul mates. I chose him, and he chose me -(not that he actually had many options, and that thought by itself isn't completely terrifying, especially if they ever find a way to go topside and everyone sees how wonderful he is and he finds out I'm not all that great ANYWAY)- whatever we are, we built this ramshackle thing together. We're like two idiots trying to build a bridge on opposite sides of a river, but neither of us actually know how to build a functional bridge. Somehow, we figured it out, and it's made of scraps and bits and pieces, and occasionally something falls apart and we have to improvise, and it's weird and chaotic and perfect and it really really shouldn't work and for some reason that's why it does.

Anyway, sorry, in my defense I really did keep it short.

Mate: Some asshole.

(😁)

Tactical Stats

Gear: Black Tactical Suit, Black Boots, Daggers/Gloves, Cell/Comm, typical tac gear (flashlight, wire cutters, smoke bombs, etc).

Still trying to get her to wear the Black Widow suit.

Weapons:

Main Weapon: Punch Daggers. Okay, so I've got these amazing daggers that retract into my gloves that Donnie made me and they're so cute and super fun and really good at severing arteries. I love them.

She had D Anodize them red and they look cool as HELL.

Secondary weapon: Rope Dart. Spun fire for a while in LA, wasn't that hard to pick it up. Used this up until my mutation, when I could finally convince Red to actually let me fight. When Red watched me play with it for the first time I'm pretty sure he had a minor stroke. Mostly use my daggers now, but still like to play with it on occasion.

Yes we do.

Position: Striker. I tend to go in first to shake shit up (which Red hates), and try to use surprise to take down as many heavy hitters as I can in round one.

God. Fuck. Training Jess in CQC was just, honest to God, the hardest thing I have ever done.

Specialty: Stealth, Agility, Small Spaces. Red and I have a "Fastball Special" where he throws me at enemies and it's SO much fun.

Bitch is a wildcat.

Favorites:

Food: Wendy's fries and a chocolate frosty

Yeah, she's one of them...

Drink: Dr. Pepper, or a good old fashioned PSL.

-me😈-

Color: ...seriously?

What she said.

Season: Winter. Honestly, you guys, the boys get so sleepy and cute in the winter, you have no idea.

Fuck it. Yeah. I cuddle with my boo when it's cold. Say somethin'.

Dinosaur: Ankylosaurus

Hell yeah, it is.

Holiday: Christmas/Solstice.

Mine too... or maybe I just like unwrapping things.

Films: Beauty and the Beast. Okay, so I swear it started as a joke, but has somehow become a really important part of "us." I'm a huge geek, so Hulk/Natasha, Hellboy/Liz, etc. are referenced constantly. Occasionally, when I call him "Red," he'll call her "Sparky" -(which totally doesn't make me feel all fizzy inside, nope)-. It does have it's downsides. I can't watch the End of Beauty and the Best, and Raph could only watch Endgame once.

I don't like to be reminded of certain things.

Also, and more importantly, TERRIBLE action flicks. It's actually how Red and I bonded in the beginning. And yes, Die Hard is, in fact, a Christmas Movie

Girl understands art.

TV/Streaming: Your typical nerd fare, Dr. Who, Critical Role, Etc. My favorite show right now is Reacher because OF COURSE IT IS 🥵. Got Red hooked on Dimension 20 (still hasn't forgiven me 😈)

This nerd shit is compelling as hell.

Games: Don't get much time for video games, used to really love Action RPGs. These days I stick with tabletop, and play online with Donnie once a week. We're trying to convince Raph to play. I think getting him a PHB signed by Vin Diesel helped. 😁

Okay, I'll admit, it MAYBE looks kinda fun. Joe Manganiello plays, too.

Music: I'll usually listen to anything unless it's overtly whiney, screamy, or has really heavy distortion. Really like a midway point between acoustic and electronic. Depending on how my nervous system is acting that day, volume can also be a problem. 😬😬😬

Whatever she's listening to, I just like when she sings along.

Books: fantasy, mostly. I love really Faerie Tales and that section at Barnes & Noble called "Now, here me out..."

The amount of monster smut this bitch reads...

With that being said Happy Monsterfucker Pride Month, my fellow deviants!

That's the end of the thingy, I hope you... enjoyed? I don't know. Whatever your reason for reading this, I hope you got something out of it. Mike's fired up the hookah so later, kids!

Okay, I've got like seconds to finish this up before she walks back in here. I really don't know how to close this out. Jess is perfect and I can't imagine my life without her. Love you, babe. Hope your not too mad. 😘

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo

[callmearcturus]

1, 2, 7 and/or 8, 13

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

2 and 8 and 13

Already answered.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

/laughs. Jake's POV chapter in KTOWL. I'll grab some excerpts. MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR ACT THREE OF KTOWL.

Ah, Striders. He was becoming uncommonly fond of them. And how could he not? In Abraxas, every vice and temptation flowed like water from a well, and Jake rarely considered any of them. All the designer drugs their apothecaries cooked up, and Jake stuck to good old dextroamphetamine and calmag.

But now that he'd gotten one Strider and glimpsed the other two? Jake wanted in a way he rarely wanted anything. His hands curled when he thought about the Umbral Executor. Oh, he carried a torch for him. Or, a knife, really. The very same Dirk had flung into Jake's shoulder was always on Jake's person, always in a tidy little sheath Jake had put together for it. He'd wear it over his heart if it wouldn't break the line of his shirts.

Not that the lovely accountant was forgotten. Truly, the manner in which he assumed he was forgotten was enough to keep him vivid in Jake's mind. Sorrow hung around him and clung to Jake in his wake, like a bruise he couldn't stop touching, like a sticky remnant that clung to his fingers no matter how much he washed. Sweet and sad, and Jake wanted to drive a knife through Caliborn's skull for the chance to see him smile.

Jake's POV chapter was all about showing off what an absolutely unhinged motherfucker he is, the specificity of him. And the specificity of Jake Abraxas English is so goddamn important for a lot of reasons, but mainly to make him feel as inhuman as possible. He's the head of a drug empire and sticks to his prescriptions. He got stabbed by Dirk and keeps the knife in a handmade sheaf as a sign of devotion. He thinks killing Caliborn would make Dave smile.

Jake hated losing, and picked his battles accordingly. That one, he kept folded up in his pocket, waiting for such a time when he might win. If only she'd realize his winning was to everyone's benefit.

But that was a matter for another night. For now, Jake mixed some of the botanical gin she always had on hand, cucumber, mint, and a splash of St Germain.

A little of this, a little of that, all captured in glass. Jake never drank, but there wasn't much difference between neon and cocktails. There wasn't much difference between neon and anything.

Jake never loses not just because he's a formidable foe and powerful presence Under the Table, but because he selects his fights like he's counting cards against the universe.

And "There wasn't much difference between neon and anything." Not only does Jake have a batshit way of looking at the world, but he applies the same ruleset to everything, from mixology to gunfights to corporate warfare.

"Isn't that rule one? Never put yourself in a position to lose." She came into view with proximity, melting out of the shadows. Her cane tapped very quietly against the dubiously-colored carpet.

"That is what I say, isn't it," Jake murmured, picking up the ball and starting it up again.

Again, specificity with how Jake phrases everything is-- I put TREMENDOUS effort into every word in every sentence. I wanted to foster this idea that Jake was Crafted. He was created by his grandmother to be this exact monster. So he mentions how he manipulates circumstances to always win earlier, then the same thing is said by the woman who created him, trying to imbue this... discomfort to his making.

Once, Rose had snippily asked if Jake had been grown in a vat for just this purpose, his purpose. He had smiled but had not laughed.

(CACKLES)

It was a special kind of fool who cheated his way into Jake's territory and then didn't even have the decency to have arms ready when Jake stepped into the trap.

The knife Dirk had gifted him just a few miles away in an alleyway in this very city seemed a fitting end for this absolute idiot. Drawing it silently, Jake quick-stepped across the plush (silent) rug that ran from the door to the desk.

There was no hesitation; if the troll looked up, he was done for. Jake kicked the back of the fellow's leg hard, buckling it. The troll let out one of those panicked trills, his hand slapping against the desk.

The muscle in that arm corded as he prepared to shove himself back up. Jake grabbed a fistful of hair— his horns were too short to be of any use here— and yanked him back.

The posture pole pressed firmly against Jake's thigh as he shoved the knife against the troll's throat. "Clementine, what a surprise! Have you done something to your hair? New cologne?"

Up to this point, the audience has mostly experienced Jake through Dirk's eyes, and there's always been an unspoken understanding that Jake would not kill Dirk. So when an intruder shows up and annoys Jake, I wanted his response to feel smart and certain and natural to him. I wanted the audience to understand that Jake is fucking dangerous.

"How much do you love him? Because some things you won't get back."

Jake watched Karkat realize his meaning, dark and bitter chocolate melting across Jake's tongue as comprehension dawned on Karkat's face.

Jake is a freak. He tells a guy he likes, who he's taken an immediate shine to, tells the guy "I'm gonna cut off your arm" and Karkat's dawning understanding does for Jake what any Abraxas designer drug does for the masses. He's a monster, and I love him.