#and that Liriel is better

[robotslenderman]

I have been on a mountaineering disaster kick lately, reading books and stuff. All these years I've been wondering why the Conclave was in Haven, bc even with the holy site of the Temple of Sacred Ashes it seemed a bit random when there must be plenty of other holy sites that are less in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, but now I'm convinced that Justinia had it there so that both mages and templars would be too sick from altitude sickness to start shit

[talesofthedice]

Liriel Baenre and all her sass. Actual moment from the Daughter of the Drow book, too, which makes it even better

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 11: A New Ally

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. (with updated upload schedule) ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.3k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ You come to forge a bond with an unlikely ally.

You were caught in a state of reverie as you walked from your room to the sick hall. Helaena had joined you that morning to break one another’s fast. Amara and Liriel were off their duties for the day and Helaena insisted she get you ready. The princess had become oddly invested in what you wore as of late. Likely her way of trying to spend more time with you. Though, if she asked, you would gladly just sit in silence with her if she wanted; it was always comfortable to do that. 

When she left, you were put in a dangerous position. Whenever you were not occupying your mind with work or talking to friends, your thoughts would drift towards Aemond. You would wonder what he was doing and immediately scold yourself. You had no reason for the sudden change in thoughts nor did you wish to even investigate why. It was better to constantly keep your mind occupied to avoid the real truth that hovered on the edge of your consciousness. 

So, when you walked into the corridor outside the sick hall to start your rounds, you were met with immense displeasure - and slight buzz - at seeing Aemond standing just outside the open doors. 

He had his arms clasped behind his back and appeared to be waiting for something. You walked closer and he turned upon hearing you approach. 

“Is there anything you need, your grace? I believe Daeron is in the laboratory.” You questioned. 

“I wish to be filled in on the patients. Seeing as my brother is occupied, I believe you can handle it.” Aemond informed you. Inside your mind, you cringed. Of all the things that would help you take your mind off that very elf, having him visit your place of work was not in the cards. 

“I was just about to make my rounds,” You walked into the hall with Aemond trailing behind. There was a station that the other healers used. In it were the aprons and supplies needed. You tied it around your waist and loaded various tonics, bandages, and herbs into the allotted pockets. All the while Aemond watched you get ready. 

“Is there a reason his grace wishes to invest himself in our research?” As you slipped the last of your needed supplies into the apron, you looked up at Aemond to find him already watching you.

He adjusted his stance from one foot to the next and scanned the large hall with his eye, “I’ve suddenly developed an interest in it.” You could not quite decipher the tone in his voice. Daeron never mentioned Aemond caring too much in this process other than occasionally asking for any significant updates – of which there was never much at all. 

You then gestured to the vast hall filled with rows of patients on cots. The space was illuminated by the large chandeliers and lanterns strung about. You wondered if you would ever get used to the perpetual darkness – a constant night – caused by the elder trees. It was uniquely beautiful, a mix of both eerieness and otherworldly sights.

“I must admit, my expertise when I came was largely on the taint’s effects on nature. Daeron has helped extensively in teaching me the physiological effects,” You began to walk. Many patients were in a deep sleep, so you would check over their body for any signs of symptom intensification while informing Aemond of all you could think about, “The taint infects them through contact with body openings. The speed at which it burns through the body varies and we have yet to figure out why.” 

You made sure to pace away from any of the patient's range of hearing. You leaned closer to Aemond, suddenly overcome by his increasingly familiar scent of burning wood, parchment, and spices. 

You made sure to keep your voice down, “That sectioned-off area at the end of the hall is where the late-stage patients are. Nothing seems to ease their pain and the visual effects of the taint are intense. They typically only have a day or two before…” Your voice trailed off and your face scrunched up in slight pain. Despite working under these conditions for a little over two weeks, you would never get used to the tug at your heart when seeing patients die.

Deciding it was best to move on, you went about treating other patients. All the while Aemond hovered close, occasionally exchanging words with the patients. Many of them were elves from the outskirts of the kingdom and rarely saw the king, so it was rather exciting for them to see him. 

Your mood took a turn for the better when you arrived at Lyra’s cot. She shot up in bed and reached out for you with an excited look on her face. She called out your name and let out a heartwarming giggle. 

“How are you, sweet girl?” You questioned as you sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m feeling better than I was yesterday,” She replied, “How is Lady?” 

You pulled the small doll from one of your pockets and positioned her to face Lyra. One of your hands gently picked up the arm and had the doll make a waving motion towards her. Lyra giggled and brushed the doll's hair with one of her hands. 

“Well, Lady has been an incredible help with my work. She likes watching the potions brew in my laboratory. I have also taken her on a few walks in the garden by my room.” You informed her. In the moment, you forgot about Aemond who stood close by and watched your exchange with Lyra. 

Lyra looked over your shoulder and her face paled, “Y-your grace.” She moved to bow but groaned in pain. You stopped her from moving and eased her back to lying down. You looked back at Aemond and tilted your head as if to order him closer. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed but still had a tenseness in his shoulders. 

He seemed to be at a loss for words to address such a young girl being condemned to a death bed, so you spoke up, “The king is here to check in on everyone. He cares deeply for his people and worries if you are all being treated well.” 

Lyra handed the doll back to you and addressed her king, speaking your name first, “She helps me whenever I need it and does the same for everybody else. She’s my best friend.” You sucked in a breath and tried to fight back the tears that pooled in your eyes. Aemond cast a glance towards you, something brewing behind his eye. There was a slight twitch of his right brow as he regarded you.

The sound of boots hitting hurriedly against the floor distracted you. Daeron came rushing down the aisle and stopped by the bed. His chest heaved and he took a moment to compose himself. You stood up from the bed and moved to rest your hand on his shoulder as he coughed. Aemond’s eye once again zeroed in on your hand and you quickly rescinded it from Daeron’s shoulder. You did not want him to get the wrong impression again. 

“The…” He wheezed to catch his breath, “The potions. They’re more successful than the previous ones.” 

His words seemed to catch you off guard and you grasped both of his shoulders, not caring about how it is perceived, “What?”

Daeron reciprocated, his hands resting against your shoulders. He looked into your eyes, “It is not a complete solution, but is damn well close, you genius.”

You jumped back and turned to Lyra, “Darling, I must go, but I will see you later. Then, we can talk about our plans for adventures.” You bring back a previous topic that you had been reluctant to do so again. On a previous visit, you did not want to give her hopes up for a cure but did express your want to take her to visit many places. Perhaps, now, you could fulfill that wish.

“Your grace,” You turned to Aemond, “Forgive me but I must head back to the lab with the prince,” 

The king made a quick motion with his head in dismissal, “I shall not keep you.” 

You and Daeron then shot away, dashing down the centre aisle and towards the laboratory. Emotions bubbled through your body. If Daeron was correct, then the progress made from the potions could be enough to narrow down the possibilities of a cure. 

In this kingdom and its resources, you had made more progress in such a short period than you ever had in your years of past research. It was more exhilarating and rewarding than ever.

It was pure exhaustion that led you to leave the laboratory in the late hours of the night. Daeron had shown you the progress both of the brews made on samples of plant matter. It only paused the deterioration of the taint, but did not get rid of it completely. Regardless, it had been a massive breakthrough. More pots had been made, with some of the other lesser elf healers coming to aid in the creation of them. 

If all went well, those potions could be tested on some of the willing patients late into the next day. Then, with the gods willing, the possible success of the plants can be seen in the body and distributed to the patients to stop them from getting increasingly ill. They would still be sick, but at the very least it would not lead to death. You and Daeron would be given more time to find a cure without the burden of losing patients.

You stayed with the healers in the creation of the potions, but Daeron had made you go after the fifth time of almost collapsing due to exhaustion. You were reluctant but acquiesced. It was, with great misfortune, that a particular elf interrupted your path. 

Criston Cole stood in your way. His armour reflected the torchlight from the walls. You could see the bitter smirk on his face and the intense malice reflected in his eyes. 

“I heard you’ve made some wonderful progress.” He taunted. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. While it was a habit Aemond had, Cole’s attempt at replicating it came across as juvenile. No ounce of command in the king’s presence could ever be mustered in an elf like Cole. 

You put up a strong resolve and prepared to take his pointless insults. While he had only ever directly talked to you in your first week while you were in the garden harvesting herbs, there were occasional moments when the two of you would be in the same area. He had, even from far away, made it easily known that he harboured a great feeling of disdain towards you. 

“We have indeed,” You paid extra care in reminding him that it was not solely you who had worked on the cure. No victory belonged to a single person in this fight. 

Cole got closer, his taller figure imposing, “Ah yes, how could I forget? My apologies, I do not know why I was so foolish to believe your kind could make such a feat.” 

He tried to get under your skin, but you would not let him, “No worries, Ser Cole. I do not blame you for forgetting such a simple thing, with all of your… overwhelming duties on the council.” You stood on the tightrope between civility and discourtesy. 

His eyes narrowed and you could tell his temper had flared. He then stood chest to chest with you and raised his arm. You stood with your shoulders straight, willing to take whatever he threw at you. Cole would not have you act out in violence towards him. Despite having made incredible progress here, your record was not entirely clean since your run into the woods. If you chose to attack an elf – especially a council member – no amount of advocacy on Helaena’s, Daeron’s or even Aegon’s account would save you from harsh punishment. 

As Cole narrowed in to strike you, a voice interrupted, “I hope I am gravely mistaken for what I am witnessing.” 

Aegon came forth from a corner at the end of the hallway. This time, at least for you, his state of appearance was new. He wore slightly better clothing and appeared to be in no state of inebriation. Was this all a dream or some weird hallucination? Was Aegon… sober?

“Pardon, my prince?” Cole questioned. 

“I said,” Aegon repeated as he came up to the elf and stood directly in front of him, blocking you slightly, “I hope I am gravely mistaken that you, an esteemed member of my brother’s council, were about to hit a lady.” 

Cole almost seemed to crumble. He took a step back and plastered on a fake smile. He laughed nervously, “My prince, that is absurd. I was simply pointing her towards her room.” 

“She needs directions in an area of the castle she has frequented for a few weeks?” Aegon raised his eyebrow in a challenge and turned back to you who stood behind him, “Is this true?” 

You looked at Cole and the face he gave you was full of agitation. As much as he mocked you, your answer could decide what would happen to him. If you admitted that he was going to strike you, his punishment could be severe – which is why there was an almost pleading look in his eye. It was incredibly pathetic that you almost felt bad for him. Almost. 

However, it would best keep this under wraps so that possibly in the future, he could owe you, “No, my prince. I am simply exhausted and disoriented. Ser Cole was helping me.” 

Criston deflated slightly, a breath leaving his mouth. Aegon turned to the elf and received a nod of confirmation. You could tell by the look on his face that he did not believe it in any way but nodded his head. 

“Ah, well then I shall escort her to her room. She will not need your help anymore, Ser Cole.” Aegon’s tone got harsher by the end of his words. He hooked his arm through yours and began to move you down the hallway, not even staying to acknowledge any more words from the elf. 

Once the two of you were carefully sequestered in your room, Aegon spoke again, “I have no idea why you would ever cover for such a lowlife craven bastard.” His words seemed to shock you by their intensity, but you could not argue against them. You did not know that Aegon harboured such resentment towards Cole. You thought that perhaps he may be jealous of Cole’s seat on his brother's council. 

“What is Cole’s problem?” You asked. 

Aegon went to the pitcher and cups on the table in your living space. He took the wine and poured himself a drink before settling comfortably into your plush cushions. He waved the cup around in his hand, “I do not even think the gods know.” 

You huffed out a small laugh and sat on the couch across from him. He quickly poured you a cup and you took it with grace. Elven wine had grown on you despite its strong nature and you found yourself preferring it over any of the wines back home. It was an observation you found yourself making a lot; how you tended to prefer things here than back in your home kingdom. 

The two of you spent a good while drinking and conversing in small talk. However, you glanced at the table you broke your fast at and saw your father’s journal lying there. You sat the chalice down on the low table between the couches and sat up from your relaxed position. You clasped your hands together. 

“Aegon?” You got his attention. He turned and saw your serious posture and expression and mimicked it, though more comical in the way his body swayed. “What do you know of Lake Rosmagne?” 

He seemed taken aback for a moment, as if surprised you did not ask an intense question given your serious nature, “Can’t say it is of particular importance. It is a lake associated with light magic, but most of the lakes in our borders possess magical qualities. Why do you ask?” 

You bite your lip and contemplate confiding in him. While not as trustworthy as Daeron, you did not feel like this was something to inform him of nor was he always willing to go along with your ideas. Helaena may not give you the answers you seek in her attempts to keep you safe; something you did not blame her for. 

Aegon on the other hand, does not hold the same intense desire to protect you as Helaena does. He lacked the restraint and composure of Daeron. For a while, he was the perfect candidate to confide in. 

“My father wrote about going to that lake for his studies. It had something to do with a hunch. It was his last entry before his disappearance.” You confessed. You picked up the chalice again and took a sharp swig. The cup was cradled in your lap and your fingernails scrapped against the markings carved in the gold plating. 

“You think my brother had something to do with it?” Aegon asked. 

“Why does everybody always involve Aemond with my issues?” You questioned exasperatingly. 

“I did not specify which brother.” Aegon smirked and took a sip of his drink before continuing, “Look if you think there is something truly awry, I could help you.”

“Why would you want to help? You did not know my father.” Your face scrunched up.

“That is true, but do you see me doing anything else? The duties I do have are impossibly boring.” Aegon yawned and set the cup down. He walked to your door and opened it. He paused and turned back around. “You are also my friend now… and possible good-sister soon.” 

You sighed loudly with frustration, “I wish not to repeat myself to anyone but Daeron is nothing but a treasured friend.” You tried to reason. 

Aegon gave you a coy smirk and repeated his previous words, “I did not specify which brother.” Before you could even think to respond, he left your room and shut the door. You were left in your room, drink in hand, wondering what possible meaning could be behind his words. It was like a cryptic message or some frustrating childhood riddle that could not be solved no matter how hard you tried. 

You decided it was best not to dwell on it and get ready for bed.

It was the next day and you had been skipping down to the hall to get to work. All night the potions had to be brewing and you were excited beyond belief. There was a joviality in your step you had not experienced in many years. You planned to check in on the patients and see if any were willing to volunteer themselves to test different dosages of the potion. Then hopefully, there could be a path to delaying the intensity of the infection in the elves and gain more time for finding a cure. 

You turned the corner to see the entrance of the sick hall. The doors were opened and Daeron stood there. His shoulders were slumped and his expression was brokenhearted. Redness surrounded his eyes and he appeared to be on the verge of tears. When he saw you, he stepped forward to stop you from entering the hall. Daeron’s hand grabbed your forearm gently and his eyes conveyed sympathy with hints of agony. 

Your mood immediately dropped, “What is it?” 

He opened and closed his mouth, unable to get the words out. You spoke again, “Daeron, what has happened?” 

Daeron spoke your name and his voice cracked at the end, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 12: Death's Sting Preview

Aemond stood tall, his one eye trained on you. There was a determination that swirled in those orbs along with something indecipherable. You were confused as to why he had come to visit so long into your grief or even come at all. 

“You have an hour to pack,” Aemond informed. 

☾⋆⁺₊✧ If you want to be added to the taglist, click here!

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[helloliriels]

LIRIELS SHORT FICS

Completed short works, one shots, prompt fics:

GIF by helloliriels

Keep Us From Falling (5,595) A very different conversation is had after Sherlock returns. All thanks to the remarkable Mrs. Hudson.

Remember Me (912) - When all is lost, your face I see ... Do you, still then, remember me? (for Remembrance Day).

I Can't Feel My Face When I'm With You (533) - Love is a powerful paralytic. (The Responder AU beginnings)

You Think It Would Look Better On You? (1,801) - Sherlock suddenly finds, he needs a beard. Badly.

I Will Try (To Fix You) (1,843) - He had collected everything he could pick up and find from the pavement outside of St. Bart's. The shattered remains of his genius.

The Genius Who Had No Heart In His Chest (835) - "I had feelings once ..." He says ... "I had feelings ... and that's why they took it away." (Clockworks, Library, Fantasy AU)

Kiss Me Now Before You Go (2,200) - John is getting ready to head overseas, and to war - but there may be one last chance for a kiss before he goes ... (wwii, memorial day, teenlock beginnings)

CATCH (1,690) - A month away from John was all it had taken to break him. (For Sherlock Challenge: December Prompt: Catch)

Sherlock Is A Girl's Name (2,772) - Sherlock said it on the tarmac to make John laugh. But then ... He keeps saying it. Often ... and John Watson has never felt so confused in his whole life ... (S3 fix-it)

Never Gonna Dance Again (1,895) - “You don’t understand!” John’s drink sloshed in his hand as he fell toward Lestrade, waggling his finger and fairly wailing with upset, “he’s never gonna dance again!”

The Years Keep Returning Me To You (4,815) - 58 Texts. John had counted. Before the woman died ... Now there were 77. Sherlock deserved to be happy. Why wouldn't he reply? It's not every day you get a second chance.

H.O.U.N.D. (987) - The Hound of Baskerville was looming before him, in all its glory! And it was stunning ... (THOB ficlet, FFF #129)

THIINK TWIICE (4,081) - Sherlock can't wait to surprise John ... he's back! He's alive! John will be so thrilled ... why didn't Mycroft warn him? ... maybe he tried ... (a short fix-it fic, post-TRF)

Hope Eternal (1,273) - Tea is at 4pm. Don't bother knocking. (John Watson has lost many friends, post-TRF regrets, hobbit reference)

Constellations (334) - 'Inspired by gorgeous fan art, and Yellow by Coldplay - turns into something beautiful. John glows, taking Sherlock's breath away ...

Bleeding Out (3,116) - Sherlock never meant to put John in this position; having to watch his best friend bleed out on the pavement. Again. One more for the Reichenbach... (accidental whump/comfort)

An Unexpected Letter (1,000) - Sometimes homesickness strikes ... when your sitting at home. Having your tea for the 111th time. Alone. (Bagginshield, tolkien, hobbit reference)

Come Closer (937) - Sherlock was always doing this. Leaning into John's personal space ... having to see something closer ...

The Highest Compliment (453) - “Well that’s certainly a compliment he has not tried on me y-yet? ... Have you, John?”

S.P.I.C.E. (518) - Dunelocked ofc ... with Art. For Sherlock Challenge: November Prompt: SPICE

The Limp You Gave Me (1,965) - Sherlock had been back for months. Everything was back to normal. Just the same as it was before … Only it wasn’t. (S3 fix-it, post-TRF)

Next Time (2,332) - "You know ... the NEXT time you tell me you love me, you could SHOW it too!!" Watson yells, before realizing that he has said it ... OUT LOUD ...

Upside | Down (714) - It seemed like forever. This moment. Forever. Falling. (TRF, alternate reality)

Do Bees Kiss? Or Just Sting? (2,082) - Q: Why do bees "kiss" A: When bees "kiss," they are actually passing nectar to other bees.

Experiments in Conductivity (955) - and consulting detectives in the rain ... (Flash Fic Friday Prompt #126 - 'Out in the Rain')

What To Give The Detective Who Has Everything (676) - Everyone's been invited over for a little bash. It's Sherlock's Birthday.

Speak For Me (574) - Mary’s research led her to be killed … A gruesome, bloody death, no one can explain. John Watson calls for a speaker.

After All (561) - Bit of an idiot this one, eh? (Love confessions)

Into Battle (335) - Sherlock and John made a plan ... the hard part will be carrying it out ... (tsot, s3 fix-it)

Three Little Words (304) - What do a consulting detective and an alien tree have in common? (Groot and John are talking)

Summer Calling (461) - John and Sherlock can't wait for the final bell to ring. Summer is calling ... (Teenlock)

PAYPHONE I, II, III (7,900) - If we're going to fix it ... this is where we begin ... ☎️📞💋 "I'm at a payphone ..." (a series of fix-its)

(Not So) Fake Fic Titles (35,551) - Series of prompt ficlets. 100% fake fics! Answering 100 asks! Celebrating 100 works on Ao3!

February: The Month of Love & Grief (12,687) a series of prompt fills originally posted for @ohlooktheresabee's 2021 challenge.

Okay, not a finished list but I honestly got so sleepy ...I give up lol. Nighto!

[robotslenderman]

Im rereblogging this bc that line about Lyris’s horror when she realised she’d been in the Deep Roads and pregnant reminded me of how Liriel was pregnant a little earlier - she figured it out on the trip to the Arbor Wilds, in fact, bc her shapeshifting got all fucky - but then went and charged into the Deep Roads anyway bc she’s completely fucking feral and it wasn’t until she was too big to move around easily that the others managed to finally get her to sit the fuck down

TELL US MORE ABOUT THE BABY

Okie, so her name is Tala. She was conceived on the trip to the Arbor Wilds, but was only 'discovered' after Lyris returned from the Frostback Basin. So there was the fun realisation that she'd been pregnant while venturing through the Deep Roads and fighting a possessed dragon lmao

She was born in Wycome and was delivered by Keeper Deshanna, who performed the typical rites and rituals to induct the newborn into the clan as one of the Dalish. Lyris also made a point to bring her to the Vhenadahl in the Alienage and receive blessings from the Hahren because if there was one thing Lyris learned, it was that too many elves - Dalish and City - felt like they were entirely different peoples, and she wanted to try to promote some kind of unity, to remind them all that they are of the same people regardless of circumstance. There ended up being a celebration amongst the elves over the new arrival, and the party lasted for hours before mother and baby were exhausted and needed to retire.

During the time before Trespasser, Tala grew up primarily in Skyhold. As she became more mobile, she made a habit of hiding and jumping out at staff, soldiers and visiting dignitaries before running away laughing and she loves to spend time in the garden hunting for bugs and worms, and eating dirt as tiny children often do.

Krem stitches her new toys from time to time. So far she has a nug with wings, a golden halla, a griffon with a crooked tail, and a dragon that breathes fire (aka Dagna figured out a way to make the dragon spit out illusionary sparkles when it's squeezed and Tala still isn't sick of it).

She learns to speak Elvhen, Qunlat, Antivan, and a little Orlesian, and everyone anticipates that she's definitely going to be a mage, given that her mother and father are both mages and powerful ones at that, so there's plenty of discussion about her training. Lyris intends to stick to Dalish tradition on that front. Once the basics are covered, the others can give their own input, but Tala needs a solid base without any mixed messages.

And when it comes to Solas, no one is allowed to openly detract him in front of Tala. They don't need to sing his praises, but Tala deserves to form her own opinion of her father and not be spoonfed criticism. And if anyone's ever asked about where he went and why he never came back, the official answer is 'I don't know, but we assume it's very important'.

After Trespasser plays out and Skyhold is carefully defanged, Lyris takes Tala to live in Kirkwall where she takes up her role as Comtesse, though they make plenty of trips to Wycome over the years. Lyris tells Tala the truth about Solas being Fen'Harel and that he left for an important mission, but certain details are withheld on account of her age and Lyris' hope that Solas' mind can be changed and he can still come back to be Tala's father. She'll be told more as she gets older, but it's very piecemeal.

By the time Dreadwolf comes around, she'll be nearly eight years old and probably have just come into her magic within the last year or so with Lyris and Merrill as her primary teachers. When she tells her mother about the strange wolf watching her in her dreams, she learns that her mother has the same dreams, and that its Solas watching over them from the Fade, never drawing close because they could tempt him to abandon his path.

Solas has known about Tala the whole time, having learned about Lyris' pregnancy from dreams and his spies, and he tries his best to maintain an emotional distance from the child. He doesn't always succeed though, and he watches over her, protecting her in her dreams. On one occasion, he might let her reach him so that he might get the chance to speak to her just once, to let her know him because this is his daughter and he wants to love her even though he can't and if he just allows this one meeting, maybe it will satisfy this terrible yearning in him so that he can focus solely on his path. But he knows that if he meets her once, it might be unbearable to return to that path and he might fail to let go.

Essentially he's torturing himself even more because he loves Lyris so much and he wants to love their child so much, but he loves his people and can he really put his love and their child over the countless souls that he betrayed?

Smash cut to Tala eating dirt and trying to climb into the stable with a drasolisk, which definitely gave poor Master Dennet a heart attack.

[rukafais]

Sometimes I see people acting like the only way you could possibly like Drizzt over Liriel is if you'd never read anything other than Drizzt or like you just hadn't been introduced to Liriel and CLEARLY one is better than the other and it's just BIG MEAN SLAVERING FANBOYS WHO DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER THAT GIVE DRIZZT ITS POPULARITY and like.

What if I told you that Liriel and Drizzt are companion series, that Liriel was expected to be as different from Drizzt as possible, and I genuinely believe reading them both and appreciating them both for the way they expand a reader's knowledge of Forgotten Realms drow from different perspectives is....good, actually

[starlightingsss]

sparks fly (prologue!!)

you're on your own kid. 1

this is a haymitch x reader fic BUT this part is only the prologue / backstory of what happened to ur character (reader)!! you have a little sister named liriel, you're only depicted as 13 right now but you'll meet haymitch at 16, knowing him vaguely up until you are 18, where you get reaped for the games.

triggers in this chapter : weird old men harrassing an underaged girl (you), the girl giving into it for money, excessive alcohol / drug use, creepy old men in the hob

once upon a time, on a rainy day in a dirty, poor, coal filled district, the echos of laughter rang through the verh small, but very warm little house. echoes of laughter from a happy family, poor but happy. 2 toddlers, their mother, their father. better off than other families in their district, the tragedy that struck wasn't expected. her father had gone off to work, her mother heading out to forage for food - a pretty good way to cut down costs.

still young, she was unclear of what happened, even today the story is foggy. she remembered her dad coming back with a few peacemakers on his trail, how he sobbed as he held the two girls, telling them their mother had gone off to a better place. as they were about to ask questions, a loud boom rang through the two roomed shack as peacemakers filed in. shots fired, hitting her father straight in the head as she held her younger sister. the girls sobbed as she saw the body fall onto the floor, the peacemakers sparing their lives and turning back.

that was the day, the day her life changed, at just 13, y/n was forced to become a provider, the head of the household.

with tears in her eyes, she put her sister to sleep, promising everything would be ok. those tears continued to stream as she dragged her fathers bpdy out of the house, closer to the meadow, where she spent the latest hours in the night digging a grave. cold, and soaked to the bone, the young girl returned to her house, trying to answer the impossible question in her mind ... "how do we survive?"

too young to work, too kind to hunt the animals in the forest, the girl had only the money in her fathers pockets to survive off of.

as she pondered this, she realized she wasn't very much of anything, but she was beautiful. insanely beautiful, incomparably so. she seemed to glow brighter than the stars themselves, her hair a stunning shade of (black / brown / blonde), her (porcelain / olive / ebony) skin reflected the light beautifully, and her eyes, the crown jewel of her face. her eyes were the most luxurious shade of (brown/blue/green). her soft, captivating eyes stunned and entrapped almost everyone who looked at her. her features worked well together, leaving her looking ethereal. a beauty only compareable to that of the moon.

the girl spent her time in the meadow, just on the edge of the district but not far enough to be punished. she picked berries from bushes lining the faulty electric fence, she plucked dandelions from their roots, sometimes she was lucky and found wild potatoes or other root vegetables. her resourcefulness and smarts led her not needing to take out any tesserae in the future, efficiently cutting down the chances of her name being called.

as she walked back to the little shack she and her sister lived in, she felt content with what she had foraged that day. two handfuls of dandelions, three wild potatoes, a few spring onions and about a handful of strawberries. this was enough to keep her and her sister fed for at least a few days, they were both still younger and smaller and not as needing food as an adult. as she entered the shack, her little sisters sobs echoed out of the bedroom.

"liriel?" she said, entering the single bedroom in the shack. liriel was curled up, sobbing and delirious. the older girl wrapped her arms around her sister, "its ok, it'll be ok.", she pressed a kiss to the girls forehead, "i got some berries and stuff if you're hungry."

the younger girl shook her head no as she continued crying, her face resting on the older girls chest. she was at a loss of what to do, deciding just to hug her little sister, providing much needed comfort.

and that, that wad the older girl's last straw. the little bits of food they were forced to ration, almost nothing left. she avoided the hob - her dad told her to, he owned a stand there but he warned her of the men there and what they did to younger women like her.

she thought about it before realizing if she wanted to survive, she would at least have to trade / sell a little bit of stuff.

the next day quickly came, her anxiety peaked as she made the journey into the hob. she wasn't wearing anything out of the normal, just a small dress fitted to her form. but apparently, that wasn't really normal and she learned that as she entered the only bar in town, full of drunk men. the jobs over there were unregulated, no one really had any morals, and the owner would give her a good pay just for her to wait on the men.

as she walked into the bar, she stood out like a sore thumb. prim and proper, innocent and beautiful, blissfully unaware of why the pay was above average.

however, she quickly learned as the men caught sight of her, heads turning as words slurred out at her, "hey beautiful, come sit on my lap"s, "you woudl look nice with my cock in you"s, "you look like a whore"s, "dont tease me like that"s, and soom she had the whole bars attention on her, and hands reached out. rough hands grabbing at her wrists, her thighs, her waist, some even reaching out to touch her more intimate parts, as she rushed along to the front, trying to get away from them. the barmaid quickly ran over to her, yelling at the men and pulling her to the back.

"now tell me, little lady, whats a girl like you doing her dressed like that ?" she scolded, making sure the girl was ok.

she stuttered her response, "i-i was gonna ask to get a job .. as a waitress or something?". her hopeful eyes meeting the woman dark ones, awaiting a reply.

"those men are gonna eat you alive, hon. you sure you want a job?" the other woman inquired, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"yes please.. i really need the money." she pleaded this, with desperation leaking into her words.

soon after this, she had a job. in the middle of the hob, surrounded by men who just wanted to pig out on alcohol and food and the "pretty new thing that started working there". no one seemed to care that she was just 13, and she kept this job. for years, she kept this job. holding the men's attention and keeping their interest, she earned a lot of tips, making more than enough for her and her sister to live comfortably.

(sorry ab the timeskip but likeee!!)

this quickly changed, as a greedy man dragged her into the alley. his hands roaming her as she screamed for help, pleading for anyone to hear and stop. and someone did hear.

he heard her screams and stumbled closer to them, the cries for help ringing through his ears, as he neared the alleyway. he saw the woman pinned to a wall by a man as she thrashed against his arms and body, and she screamed. he sped up towards the pair, "what the hell is going on?" his gruff voice rang out.

the man assaulting her quickly turned his head, eyes landing on the man who just called out. fear lit the mans eyes as he saw haymitch abernathy, victor of the 50th hunger games, only victor in district 12 had apparently come to confront him about his assault on the woman. a quick excuse slipped out of his mouth, "hey man .. no need to start anything , s-she wanted this . shes not y-your girl is she?"

haymitch didn't look very strong, or very intimidating at that, but most people harbored a fear of him, a man who they saw kill over a dozen people in his games. fear of the man they thought was a killer.

"well im not sure she wanted it considering she was screaming so loud i heard her from the market but lets ask the lady herself, shall we? sweetheart, did you want this man to do whatever he was doing to you?" he said, he was drunk, not as drunk as the man who had her against the wall, but still drunk. he stumbled a little and slurred his words slightly.

the woman shook her head no, as haymitch neared the two. the man who had his hands around her dropped her to the ground, stumbling away from the girl as she fell to the floor. haymitch was now towering over her curled up body, as he leaned down, picking her up and placing her back onto her feet.

after giving the distressed woman some time to steady herself, he dropped his hands from her waist, where he had been supporting her.

"t-thank you.." she stuttered out, obviously shaken from the event just before.

"don't mention it, sweetheart. you ok? aside from all of that .. did he hit you or anything?" haymitch said, concerned for the girl.

"n-no, he was js grabbing" she said, fear of what the guy could've done had haymitch not intervened still rattling her core. she let out a "i-im gonna go home now .." as she stumbled away.

"ehhh, not sure about that one, hon. you're pretty shaken up." he said this, following her. "just let me walk you home, ok? just wanna make sure you're ok." it made sense, knowing the traumatic even that just happened to her, letting her wander home wasn't a very good idea.

"o-ok" she said this, as she continued to stumble, this time just not by herself.

the walk was mostly silent as they were both necessarily strangers to each other, haymitch had just wanted to ensure the girl's safety, and thankfully, her shack was pretty close to the hob. after she thanked him, and sent him off to continue his errands, she collapsed onto her and her sisters shared bed. the younger girl was at school, and her body was tired and stressed.

her thoughts raced with what could've happened had the former victor not interfered, if she hadn't screamed. she realized her job wasn't safe for her, but she was still unsure what she could do. only men could work in the mines, she didnt have a business or the money to start one, she had a few hundred dollars to her name. as her thoughts wandered, she decided to do something that would take her mind off the matter - she would prepare a "thank you!" basket for the man who saved her.

she looked through the pantry, finding the ingredients for her to make fresh bread. as she made the dough and set it aside to rise overnight, she looked for some jam to add to the basket. she knew she had something and eventually found some strawberry jam! she went out and picked some prettier flowers, added a jar of the jam, and included a small piece of goats milk cheese from her little sister's goat.

her sister came home, seeing the basket on the table, with her curiosity peaked, "y/n? whats this on the table? whos it for?"

"liri, your back! its just a basket for someone who was kind to me, just returning the favor." she said this, not wanting to burden her sister, just to finish the basket and deliver it the next day.

she went to sleep that night excited to send over the basket, and she woke at the crack of dawn to put the bread in the oven. once the bread was done, she wrapped it up in paper and rested it into the basket. her sister went off the school again, and she made the lengthy walk over to the victors village.

as she rang the doorbell, her excitement was hard to contain. excitement that was not matched by the grumpy man who opened the door, with bags under his eyes and a very disgruntled look on his face, she realized she had probably just woken him up.

"hi! i made this basket to thank you for helping me .. i'm so sorry to bother! i didn't mean to wake you" she chirped, apologetic but her excitement and happiness still leaking into her voice.

he flashed a smile at her as he took the basket from her hands, seeing the bread, jam, cheese and flowers that she had prepared. the contents of the basket all costing quite a bit. "you made all this stuff?" he said this, still groggy and not very awake.

"yep! baked the bread this morning, the jam was a little older from some strawberries i foraged and the cheese is from my sisters goats milk!" she said this, with a smile still on her face.

the man muttered something along the lines of "guess i dont mind if i a pretty girl wakes me up after all" as he turned back into his house to place the basket somewhere on a table, calling out a "come in if you want" to her.

the woman cautiously stepped into the house, getting hit in the face with the stench of old alcohol and sweat. the house was a mess, huge and cluttered up with bottles and dishes - how the man functioned wasnt even something plausible in her mind. as she reached the room he was in, she saw him pouring himself a drink.

"isn't it a little early to be drinking?" she said this, concern etched onto her face as she observed the man. 8 in the morning on a thursday and he already had a glass of white liquor poured in front of him.

"not sure what you'd expect after waking me up at 8 in the morning, sweetheart." he replied, sitting down and sipping his drink. she stood out against the messy background of his house, her hair and clothes seemingly perfect. her skin still glowy in the dark atmosphere of the room.

"ehh.. could i maybe .. clean your house for you?" she said this, as she saw a spide crawl across the wall above the sink. knowing this wasn't a place anyone should be living in, she just wanted to help the man.

haymitch looked around as he sipped his drink, "t's fine, dont worry about it, you got anything else you wanna do or judt the basket?" he said looking up.

"i- it was just the basket , ill get going" she said this as she turned around and left, some of the smell lingering on her body. she wanted to help him - she really did but she wasn't going to force her help onto him.

HELP IK THIS STORY IS A LITTLE PROBLEMATIC / QUESTIONABLE RN BUT I SWEAR NTH ROMANTIC IS HAPPENING BETWEEN THEM

DHISDHSKHDS THEY FALL IN LOVE AFTER HER GAMES N STUFF BUT BEFORE THEM HE JS THOUGHT SHE WWS SOME RANDOM PRETTY GIRL 😭

he'll still be hesitant after her games n wtvs tho pls 😭 theres still a gap between like them doing anything and stuff

bte her birthday is right after the reaping (a few days after) and she gets reaped at 18 so she turned 19 before all the interview n everything then she survives based in dumb luck n stuff

idk how to tag but someone asked me to tag so this is like a little confusing for me

idk how to use tumblr

[dreamingdarklyblog]

Hi Guys!

We're tits! Um... Liriels writing guy said we should cum say hi ;). We're not really sure what to say though. We don't get to do much thinking?

He made us really big and bouncy and omg it's so much fun. It's pretty fun being in charge too case now we can feel ourselves up and jiggle and squeeze, fuck it's soooo hot!

Ummmm what else... we don't know really... Um. Usually were really tiny and it sucks sooo much cause liriel doesn't like us and never like shows us off or anything. She totally would if we were bigger like now though! Omg. So much better like this.

She's been totally obsessed with her pussy lately and ignoring us. It's so lame. Dunno why she's so special and we don;'t get any fun. He should make us big and bouncy more often, then she'd play with us more.

Do you guys cum reading what liriel writes? That's so hot =). I wanna make you guys cum too! we're way better than she is, cause we're really big and bouncy. But we don't have a lot of practice... What can we do to make you guys cum? we're not allowed to send pictures... stupid rules.

[magesofmystra]

@aamusedly for Elezar

Liriel and Elezar had been awaiting what was likely going to be a very swift execution when it was inexplicably delayed. Night had fallen by the time the door to the prison cell was opened and the warden escorted a much smaller figure in.

That figure turned out to be a particularly small drow, one that Liriel had gambled on arriving.

"I see you've dragged some other innocent victim into your schemes again, Liriel." Earawen placed a hand on her hip, looking over the pair.

"It was a case of mistaken identity on my part." Liriel explained. "And unfortunately the guards were more alert than I expected."

"You should know better by now. Honestly if it wasn't for the execution order I wouldn't have bothered to come." Maybe. A stint in prison wouldn't likely teach the drow princess much given how lenient they were by Underdark standards. So she turned to Elezar. "Hello."

[robotslenderman]

I love how Solas and Liriel annoy the living shit out of each other. I don't want them to be all "hahaha I pretend to like them but secretly hate my spouse" I love that they're the opposite. they pretend to hate each other but want to fuck each other senseless. Liriel spent a lot of DAtV yelling at Solas and wishing he'd bend her over a fade rock. I'm pretty sure Solas wanted to bend her over but kept getting distracted by telling her how wrong she is about everything because to him that's better than sex. I just love that they fell in love against their will and genuinely enjoy winding each other up and arguing as bonding. I love these assholes. I bet they cockblock themselves all the fucking time arguing about stupid shit

[foxboyclit]

10 people i'd like to know better

tagged by @the-bulletproof-heart, thank you!!

last song: Squaring Up- Sir Chloe

fave colour: yellow!

last book: currently reading Tangled Webs, book 2 of the Starlight and Shadows trilogy by Elaine Cunningham

last movie: Nosferatu (2024)

last tv show: Dungeon Meshi (rewatch)

sweet/savoury/spicy: spicy

relationship status: been dating my lovely partner @cyb3rmutt for 5 years

last thing I googled: black oil beetles

looking forward to: my sister visiting for her birthday, moving in with my love, and my 21st birthday

current obsession: Liriel Baenre, Sabrina Carpenter, and a resurgence in coffee

no-pressure tagging @thegreatobsesso @darkseldarine @frostytherobot @arach-tinilith @rukafais @moonsomnia @princessbonecrimes @banished-away @peachcobblerr and @emma-the-rose

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 5: The Young Elf

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.1k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ you work to recover from the previous night of celebration and meet a new patient in the sick hall.

Your vision was blurry upon opening your eyes. You felt your brain being pounded within your skull and your body ached. You let out a soft whine and rolled over in your bed, the soft sheets offering little comfort. The room was still fairly dark, with only a few candles lit. The memories of the night prior were hazy. You remember going to the party, but soon after your second drink, it all became incomprehensible. It was all a haze of music, candlelight, and dance. 

It must have taken you an hour to will yourself out of bed, the only motivation being a pitcher of water that was placed all the way in the living space. It had forced you to get out of bed all so you could quench your thirst. You found yourself sitting on one of the couches, nursing a cup of water when Amara and Liriel skipped into the room. 

They wore happy faces and presented no visible signs of wear from the party. It was as if they did not drink and dance heavily, but rather got a full night of rest. It was likely due to their experience - who knows how many times they had done that in their lives. 

“Good morrow, dear friend.” Amara sang happily while opening the curtains to your room. The light from torches and fireflies outside - which happened to be surprisingly bright - invaded your room. You could do nothing but grunt in response and hold a hand out to block the light from your eyes. 

“Well, you are taking it surprisingly better than I thought,” Liriel stated as she placed a tray of food on the table, “For the amount that you drank, I was sure you would be on the brink of death.” 

“Really?” You responded with a thick coat of sarcasm. It felt like you were dead already. You reached out and grabbed a slice of bread. It was an elvish bread and you had come to deeply love them over your stay. The emptiness in your stomach hurt and you were glad to eat. 

“Get some food in you and you’ll be better. You’re the talk of the castle today.” At Amara’s words, you dropped the piece of bread and looked at her with alertness in your eyes. 

“Please tell me I did not do anything stupid or embarrassing.” You crossed your fingers in a silent prayer. It would be awful if you had done anything bad, as your actions may be taken to represent all humans. You did not want to carry the weight of the image of humanity in front of such esteemed beings. 

“Not bad, on the contrary. Everyone is praising your ability to handle elven wine. It is an impressive feat.” Amara reassured you. 

You raised one brow before gesturing to your slumped body, “Does this look like someone who is handling it well?” 

“Oh, be thankful they are speaking highly of you.” Liriel laughed as she began to look through your wardrobe. 

“I’d much rather have my work praised, than my ability to handle my cups.” You reasoned as you ate a few more pieces of fruit. Amara had gone to your vanity to select jewelry. 

“Then you best get ready for the day.” Liriel turned around with a dress in her grasp and laid it out on the settee in front of you. Your eyes trailed over the light sage fabric. It had a silk underside with some sort of tulle layering on top. It looked like the dress you had worn on your first day there, but a much better colour. You gave Liriel a gracious smile at her selection and rose to your feet to change.

You had hoped to gain your bearings before leaving your room. However, after leaving, you had only just begun to feel better. The pounding in your head had subsided, but the aches in your joints from the hours of dancing still affected you. Your footsteps echoed across the stone hall as two guards escorted you through the caste. Before your morning rounds with the patients, you had to pick up some books from the library that you found the other day. The guards opened the doors and allowed you to enter without their presence. 

You were so wrapped up in your task and struggling to recover from your night that you failed to notice the figure sitting at one of the tables, flipping through a large ornate book. You walked past them while rubbing your eyes. Once at the shelf you needed, you grabbed the three books and stacked them in your arms. Their weight felt heavier than you expected, but you recovered easily and moved to turn back. Your gaze swept across the wide-ranging room before it settled on a body in a seat. His back was to you and facing the entrance door. 

His long silver hair draped pin straight down his back and you could see the top half tied up. A familiar strap of leather banded around his head, which you knew belonged to his eyepatch. His back was broad and he had on a leather tunic dyed a rich dark green. His sword was strapped to his side and rested on the bench with him. You cursed yourself for having such luck. Out of all of the libraries in this castle, Aemond had to choose the one that happened to be right next to your study. Of course your luck would be so rotten.  

You took in a breath. Perhaps you could quietly make your way out of the library. You did not wish to disturb the king in whatever task he was enraptured with. Your hold on the books tightened as you moved to swiftly and quietly vacate the area. You passed by him with your gaze down on the floor. 

Lately, however, your victories seemed to be short-lived. 

“Do you think you are here to drink your weight in wine?” His smooth voice drawled out right as you had managed to reach up for the door handle. Your fingers squeezed the air in a desperate attempt to calm yourself. You spun on your heels, only to regret it immediately by the temporary loss of vision. The ache in your head returned. Aemond sat a few metres in front of you. He was staring down at the pages of parchment below him. His agile fingers swept at the page and turned it. 

“No, your grace. I was simply being cordial, having been invited to it by his grace Prince Ageon.” You defended. It was true, Aegon extended a branch your way and you decided to seize it. You had not planned to drink, but you were an incredibly curious person and succumbed to the curiosity of what their wine tasted like. 

“It is not a surprise Aegon would do that. Again, do not forget the task set forth on you.” Aemond had not bothered to spare you a single glance yet. His focus largely was on the book at his table. 

The ache in your head worsened and you wanted nothing but to escape, but you knew you had to be cordial to the king, “I am thankful for this opportunity and take it seriously. I will be here for a year, so I thought it best to forge friendships.” Your response seemed to elicit a dry chuckle from the elf. 

“Friends with…” He finally looked at you, piercing you with the intensity of his eye, “your kind? You are nothing more than an oddity to them right now, a silly little human way in over her head. As soon as they are bored of you, you will be nothing again. They have forgotten the threats your kind poses.” 

It was likely the effects of your aching body that caused you to stick up just slightly for yourself, “If I am nothing but a silly little human in over her head, what threat do I truly pose, your grace?” While your words had been aggressive, you coated them in the most flattering voice you could muster; the call of an innocent animal hiding their violence. 

Aemond regarded you for a moment as you stood there. You adjusted the weight of the books in your hands. He still was giving you a look that deeply unsettled you. You felt like a bug under his gaze, though you knew he would not treat you as gently as Helaena does to her insects. Aemond would not hesitate to squash you under his foot. 

“All humans are a threat.” His voice came out strained, edged with spite and some other unheard charge akin to a lament. You stood strong against the battering waves of his blue-eyed stare; the oceans within his iris in constant turbulence. You had no recourse for his words and could not choose a path to take. To your great relief, tinged with an ounce of disappointment, Aemond appeared unwilling to speak further. His attention went back to the book in front of him and you took that as an opportunity to leave. 

Why, out of all the libraries in this castle, did he choose the one by your work? 

His figure consumed your mind as you walked a short distance to the laboratory you shared with Daeron. Aemond was, in some ways, a walking contradiction to the stories you grew up with. There was truth in the mutterings of his immoral attitude and penchant for aggression. Yet, you had not seen any physical aggression so talked about. His paragon of brutality was unseen. 

Aemond was calm and calculating, his refrain from violence you had seen so far instilled a greater fear within. If he was like the stories - quick to barbarity - you could count on that predictability. It would be comforting in a sense, to place your bet on wanton aggression. Men, regardless of human or elf, could be counted on for that predictable nature. 

However, he had not shown you his hand in whatever game he was playing. In Aemond’s cunning sense, there was no predictability. It frightened you, to be at the mercy of nothing short of an enigma. You could not place a bet on what he will do and what he is capable of. Sure, you can rely on the stories, but they have already proven to ring with some semblance of inaccuracy. You began to doubt even your own memory. 

In your contemplation, you had dropped the books off in the laboratory and swung into the sick hall to make your rounds with the patients. You carried your notebook with you, along with a fitted bag at your waist to carry any small utility item that could be needed to help the sick elves. You had realized that elf physiology is surprisingly much like humans - minus the ability to live for multiple millenniums. 

You had begun your move through the rows of countless beds. At each one, you sat with the elf and recorded their symptoms to keep track of their progression. To the ones you were able to, you administered some pain relief. Unfortunately, for those who had been sick for long, no type of pain relief would do them any good. 

In your rounds, you moved to a bed with a new patient. It was a young elf. Though likely centuries old, she appeared as a child. Her hair was as golden as the light of the lanterns in the room, but oily from the relentless sweat caused by a fever. Her skin showed obvious signs of taint progression. Its glass-like appearance was underscored by intermingling cracks. Dark purple, near black, tint washed over the skin, with some areas more concentrated than others giving the appearance of bruises. 

She was the youngest you had seen in your time here. 

Something in you never even thought about the possibility of younger elves getting it. That was not a place your mind wandered to and you had gotten used to treating the older elves. Your heart ached at such a youthful being having their life slowly drained. 

You moved towards the bed to see her, “Hello,” You introduced yourself before standing next to her laying form, “I have not been granted the pleasure of meeting you yet.” You kept your voice kind and cheerful to ease the emotions of the young elf. The little girl slowly turned her head in your direction. Despite her weakened state, the girl looked cheerful. 

“I’m Lyra,” She paused to cough, “You’re a human.” Lyra’s voice was gentle, with notes that sounded like windchimes on a calm day. 

“Yes, I am. I’m here to help.” You sat at the edge of the bed and reached out for a bowl of water and a cloth. You moved the rag through the water and got rid of the excess water. The back of your hand rested on her forehead. Lyra was burning up. You laid the cloth down where your hand had been and she let out a breathless sigh of relief. 

“You look like an angel.” Lyra’s words were covered in the haze of a fever, but you took them to heart. This whole time, being surrounded by naturally beautiful beings, you had begun to feel worse about your appearance. There was something so pure and true when the words came from such an innocent child. 

“That is kind, especially from a girl as pretty as you.” You watched as the corners of Lyra’s mouth rose faintly. She was in obvious pain, but taking it with graceful strength. 

“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” Her question was so abrupt that it halted your movements as you tended to adjust the blanket over her. You paused, unsure of how to handle the situation. With all of your other patients, they understood their time was limited. The taint only spread to bodies through openings and you wondered what could have happened for a little elf such as Lyra to be infected. 

“I and the other healers are working towards a cure, you need not worry, darling.” While not a direct answer, it was sufficient enough to get Lyra to rest her head back down against her pillow and close her eyes. You backed away to allow her to sleep and went about aiding the other sick elves. 

During your rounds, your eyes kept wandering back to Lyra’s form. You were plagued with an even heavier burden. Your goal had been clear for many years, to find a cure. However, there was always an air of impersonality in your work. While the driving force had been to help people and carry on your father’s work, your motivation was still disconnected. The taint - other than destroying the lands of your kingdom - had never deeply affected you personally. 

With Lyra, you felt perhaps the same driving force your father did. He worked to help, but mainly to make sure you had a future. You saw that same sense of need to safeguard that future when looking into Lyra’s eyes. While old from a human perspective, she was a young elf who had barely begun her life. Your father wanted a future for you, you wish to provide the same for her. 

After a few hours of menial tasks in upkeep for the patients, you found yourself in the laboratory. In your hands was a simple vial, lilac and gleaming with specs of light. It was a newer version of your previous concoction that proved to be of little success. There was a hope - in fiddling with the ratios of ingredients - that it could be more effective than the last. 

You looked down upon a sample of taint kept in a glass case. It was a bundle of flowers and weeds that had lost their colour of life, covered in the black mould and goo so familiar. You tilted the vial in your hand and allowed a few drops to spill upon the sample. You took a step back and watched as nothing happened. Your eyebrows furrowed.

You were overcome with frustration and anger. The events of your stay, your inability to make progress, and the new added weight of the reality of lives on your shoulders caused you to boil over. You let out a grunt and slammed your firsts on the table. 

Just as you expressed your anger, Daeron strolled into the room. He saw your actions and raised his hands in feigned surrender. 

“Surely the table did not deserve such violence,” He joked. You glanced up at him and felt the ache in your hands from striking the wood so fiercely. You rubbed your knuckles and could see some skin was scratched off, but not enough to require any special attention. 

“I tried messing with the ratios of that last experiment. It did not make it any better, on the contrary.” You voiced. 

Daeron walked to where you stood and picked up the vial. He inspected it for a moment. “You tried, that is what matters. If it's any consolation, none of mine have been as successful as yours was.” He patted you on the shoulder and you sent him a look of appreciation. 

“Thank you, but I think I am going to spend the day doing more research.” You wanted to leave the laboratory. The walls felt like they were closing in on you and you could not bear to look at any more ingredients, vials, or damned samples of tainted nature. It was a curse, a plague on you. 

Daeron spoke, “Go on, I have some of my ideas to work on.” You backed away from the table and turned to your right to leave the room. Your hand gripped the wrought iron door handle with extra strength as you yanked it open and found yourself in the ever-familiar hallway. 

Despite being given the limited freedom of your room, laboratory, library, and sick hall, this place began to feel more and more like a prison. Your adventure into another area of the castle last night to attend the party was allowed, but you doubted your freedom could extend beyond that. 

You felt guilty, for thinking so negatively about a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience, but the whole castle felt like a gilded cage. It was beautiful, there was no denying that. This kingdom, with its connection to nature and elevated lifestyle, was beyond what you could dream of and served as a trap for you. On the one hand, you relished in the good parts, but on the other, you knew this would never be a home. 

You would never belong here. Your humanness, the mortality that came with it, will only be nothing but a blink in time for these people and their kingdom. Unless you found a cure, there would be nothing left but the faint memories of your form walking down these halls. Eventually, it would be lost to the annals of time. 

How fickle a human life was when compared to the immortality of nature.

Chapter 6: A Snake in the Garden Preview

Like a cloud blocking the sun, a body stood just behind your kneeled figure and blocked the light from the lanterns strung above. You ceased yourself from cutting a leaf from a plant and turned around. An elf stood, his eyes piercing you with simmering hatred. You recognized him from just a few short days prior. It was the same elf that had been walking beside Aemond when you passed him in the hall. His skin looked sunkissed, despite there being little sun that actually penetrated through the canopy of trees. His dark hair matched the darkness of the deep forest beyond the settled lands. 

He was altogether the embodiment of the elvish characteristic of beauty, but there was something wrong about the energy he gave off; it was almost predatorial.

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[helloliriels]

H E L L O A W A R D S E A S O N 2 0 2 4

When you're in fandom spaces, you see how beautiful the world can be ...

🌌 The 2nd Annual Liriels Awards begins on March 10th! Because I have this Sherlock in a sheet ... and so many to thank for making the world a better SpAcE to be in! Join me! 🌌

Don't forget to send me an ask if you have someone important to your fandom experience that you would like to honor and why! Tysm!

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[mcnstercus]

closed starter - alina & liriel ( @lirielelwyn )

"Sara, this is Nurse Elwyn," she said to the small two year old when her sister met her in the room. Alina helped the child get admitted as she was dehydrates due to her and her mother had the flu. Her mother was one of Alina's patience herself, eight months pregnant. Alina knew that there would be a lot less stress on her if Alina helped out with the toddler too. "She's just going to put a little tube in your arm so that we can get you all better. I promise that she's really good at it."

[ms-katonic-of-tamriel]

Listening to a YT Vid on Veilguard's protag problem, which can be summed up as WHY is anyone listening to Rook, who isn't even important in their own faction and is canonically on hiatus from them, and why is Rook being just given leadership when they're early twenties with no experience and no connections. Which is kinda true, the only authority they have is being Varric's second in command, and most of Varric's authority comes from his own personal charisma and contacts, which is not available to Rook.

And it's kinda true, isn't it. Why Rook, and that question's never really answered satisfactorily in canon. And the only reason BTL works like it does is because:

Maia does have that connection to the Inquisition, she lived through it all and she's the Herald's kid. That does carry weight for those who know. And the other factor is the presence of an entire elder generation who will absolutely believe her, take her seriously and most importantly, marshall resources to help out. There's Miraak as Ambassador to Tevinter and all the weight the Empress's representative in Thedas title carries (not as much in Tevinter as in Orlais, but they're all afraid of him and he's happy to use that). There's Uncle Black Rose in Treviso - not an ambassador, but he's an envoy of the Empire and fulfilling a similar role, and he's trusted by most of the Crows. It's also the city with a massive Imperial presence, so Maia's mother's mighty Empire is there. There's House Pavus in the Shadow Dragons plus Mae and Ashur figuring it out and deciding it's in their interests to help - in no small part due to the amount of funding and supplies they get from the Empire.

Veil Jumpers - also Empire-funded, and Morrigan's there. There's also Liriel exerting an influence all the way from Mythallon. Grey Wardens - you need not nearly as many Wardens when the Blight Witch rallies to your side - Maia's literal half-sibling.

The Lords and the Mourn Watch are less certain, but that's OK, having to work for their respect is half the fun.

Point is, Maia probably works as a protagonist BETTER than canon Rook does, because there's a lot of people out there who will rally to Empress Alessia II's kid. Or for that matter, ex-Inquisition and rebel mages who remember the tiny Breaker of Storms/Mascot.

Because 'why does anyone listen to Rook' is a very different question to 'why does anyone listen to the eldest child of the Herald of Andraste and Empress of Tamriel who is also a figure of veneration in her own right among those who once served the Inquisition and has her mother's Dragonborn powers.'

Protagonist problem - solved. And something like it is how they should have had Veilguard go - they're not a random person, they're the Inquisitor's younger sibling who has been helping with the Solas hunt due to the Inquisitor no longer doing active combat duty due to losing an arm and therefore is running the whole gig from behind the scenes. But they need someone out in the field that they can trust... and so we have Baby Adaar/Cadash/Lavellan/Trevelyan out there, codenamed Rook because otherwise people get confused. The faction choice? Tied to who the Inquisitor romanced, perhaps. Dorian as a brother-in-law? Signed up with the Shadows, or alternately did time with the Watchers. Sera or Iron Bull? Lords of Fortune. Blackwall? Wardens. Solas? Veil Jumpers. Josie? Crows. Cassandra - maybe the Mourn Watch or the Wardens. Romanced no one or Cullen? Free choice of factions or the option to plain not have one, you were with Varric the whole time.

Many possibilities and we saw none of them. Sigh.

[rukafais]

i heard liriel's better written than drizzt but that came from drizzt haters so i wanted to ask your opinion as someone reading his prequels and eyeing her trilogy?

I think Liriel is very solid, and certainly the most well-written of Elaine Cunningham's works, though it has some odd tropes that Drizzt avoids...the most egregrious one off the top of my head is the tendency to, at least in the first book, have pretty much every drow dude except her dad want to sexually assault her or be attracted to her in some way; for example, her old male tutor is implied to be a lecher who's kind of got the hots for her, and one of the main antagonists, a Vhaeraunite, keeps a harem of surface elf women and wants Liriel for himself so he can uh. Put babies in her.

“Then you will lead the search to find her,” the wizard told him smoothly. “However, you are not to kill her. She is too important for that, both for the magic she wields and the children she may bear to follow Vhaeraun. You know the importance of bringing drow females into the Night Above. I will not have her destroyed.” Gorlist scowled.

“There are more ways than one to humble the little princess,” Nisstyre said softly. “I want this female for Vhaeraun, and for my own pleasure, but I am not averse to sharing. In time, you shall have your revenge.”

A lot of the weirder shit I object to is kind of like, stuff you find out either if you're reading books that are not Liriel OR you're reading the absolutely bonkers shit Elaine says as an author about her books or about DnD worldbuilding.

There's an odd tendency sometimes for characters to simply forget about other characters once they're out of the story too imo but that doesn't affect Liriel...that much. BUT the Liriel books themselves are pretty solid!

I think to an extent Liriel works best as a companion piece to Drizzt, as they're in direct conversation with each other. Much of Gromph's characterisation that forms the base for his stuff in later Drizzt books started here, and Liriel's perspective as a scion of the First House with an actual social life offers some valuable insights on what it's like for priestesses with more social standing and the usual conditions at Arach-Tinilith.

As for it being better (or worse, i guess) than drizzt, it's a silly comparison for people to make. Liriel was made to be as different from Drizzt as possible so it's apples to oranges. The two authors have different writing styles and different goals in that writing. I certainly prefer Drizzt more, but Liriel's books were pretty good regardless.