#and very much on that luke verse

[cath-lic]

i literally do not understand how prosperity gospel and evangelicals have gotten this far. like have u even LOOKED at the bible??? does luke 18:25 mean nothing to you?????

[raehs]

i think in some of rey’s verses she ends up traveling A LOT. rey is someone who has such a need and thirst for knowledge. not necessarily crazy adventures but to travel without a war going on. to sightsee. experience life, food, love nature. she’s not this social person but she wants to see what she can and learn.

[techniiciian]

in modern verses matt has two service dogs. one is a pomeranian named mo & the other a doberman named iggy. matt got mo for as a gift to himself while iggy was gifted to him by han & luke. he loves them both very much & they are very good boys.

[lcerys]

need to do more actual writing tomorrow but : thinking about it and in his amnesia fisherman au he has the nausea at sea and he went to help fish once he was a bit recovered because he wanted to help and make the fisherman who helped him happy.

[tom4jc]

March 9, 2023 Verse Of The Day

[ma1dita]

love like a blister

the five stages of loving losing luke

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.7k 

summary: (post-tlt) set directly after lovers, or partners in crime; The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. this is not the end of the trouble!verse i promise!!

(posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)

—

DENIAL - bursting under pressure

we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?

Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air. 

You let him leave. 

It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal. 

Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.

And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight. 

Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.

“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.

“Annie, I…”

Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.

But this can’t be real. 

Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.

There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.

“DAD!”

You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.

It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.

The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief. “Did I do that to him?”

Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.

The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.

ANGER - words leaking like an abscess

i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime

There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.

All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities. 

This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love. 

For once you didn’t have any good answers.

“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.

“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”

“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?” 

One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.

“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”

“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.

“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”

You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.

Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up. 

Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.

6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this. 

Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.

The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.

You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.

BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out

isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?

You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.

“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” Percy mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.

You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.

“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”

Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.

“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”

You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.

“That’s okay. I was too.” 

The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way. 

“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.

“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”

“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.

“Wait!” 

Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.

“I don’t know what to do with—” “We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to. 

“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.

“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.” 

The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair. 

“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.” 

Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.

You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.

���Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”

You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.

“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”

Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.

“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.

“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”

If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.

DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin

i knew to love would be to lose my mind

After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet.

The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.

Impenetrable.

He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away. 

“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke. 

“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.

You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.

“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.” 

He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.

“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”

“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”

Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity.  I think you and I know it best.”

“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm. 

“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.

ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength

in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides

“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”

You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.

“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly. 

It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.

I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.

Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.

“What made you drive all the way out here?”

She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.

“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.

You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.

“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.

“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.

Not without him. 

There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.

“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.

A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.

“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”

You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”

“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.

“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”

The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.

“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”

Why weren’t we enough?

Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.

“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”

The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.

“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”

You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.

“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.

“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you. 

“Me too.”

She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.

The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat. 

“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.

“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.” 

Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.

It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.

Because you have to.

—

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“

- Ari B. Cofer

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[duchess-of-mandalore]

Star Wars, friends. I know this is not why you follow me, but please make this my most shared post.

You are here.

We're living the lead-up to Revenge of the Sith, and it scares me so much a) it feels like there is so little we can do, and b) young people are acting as if there is nothing we can do.

If you don't know what's going on, I need you to wake up and get engaged.

I have two history degrees. My whole life I've always been the person saying, "When people say, 'This is the most important election ever," it just shows how little they know about history.'"

So please believe me when I tell you that THIS is the most important election (cycle, not just presidential race) that you will likely ever be a part of.

Trump is not Hitler. He's too stupid to be Hitler.

But our democracy only held together in 2020 because of a few people like Mike Pence who were willing to stand up against Trump when it was truly the last line of defense. I know that's hard for some of you to hear, but whatever you think of his beliefs, Pence showed he has integrity and stands by the Constitution.

There will be no Mike Pences this time around. Trump will not make the mistake of surrounding himself with those who are not fully committed to him.

Trump is a convicted felon. He is running to avoid his convictions and likely jail time more than anything else. If he wins, he will be able to pardon himself of his federal crimes, but he's going to keep acting like Donald Trump. If he's still alive in 2028, do you think he will leave the White House peacefully and just submit to further cases against him?

Please watch John Oliver's recent expose on Project 2025 and Trump's Second Term. It is linked in a comment below.

Trump and his administration are already putting in place plans for sweeping reforms that truly will make America look like The Handmaid's Tale. Presidents usually will push for more when they're in their second term because they don't have to worry about another election campaign, but this is different. This is about dismantling the democratic system so that it only benefits the most radical conservatives and Christians.

Christians, I am one of you. I was raised Evangelical (capital E meaning politically motivated culture warrior), and I am still evangelical (lower-case e, referring to theological beliefs). This is not the posture of Christ-followers. There is no good that comes from state-mandated religion, which both coerces people to claim that they are believers for social and cultural clout AND waters down the true religious fervor of the church because most people are only nominal believers.

There is NOTHING about Christian Nationalism that is in the best interest of Christians or in the best interest of the neighbors Christians are called to sacrificially love. If you need a reminder of who your neighbor is, read Luke 10:25-37.

Please start talking with your friends. Young people, please register to vote and bring your friends to do the same.

I know so many of you are disillusioned. I am too. Things that are going on in Palestine and Ukraine and so many other places make it very hard to vote for people with "D"s behind their names (especially after the recent presidential debate).

But punishing Joe Biden is not the revenge you want to pursue here. Are you unhappy with him giving Israel $12.5 billion? I am too, but do you think that number won't be repeated multiple times under Trump? Again, I was raised Evangelical. A staple of (politically-focused) Evangelicalism is that Christians (and thus America) must support (the modern state of) Israel no matter what because they have a hyper-literal understanding of the verse where God tells Abraham that he will bless those who bless him (including his descendants who became Israel).

Do not underestimate the importance of that view in their ideology. Nearly every member of my biological family has shunned me for suggesting that this is not a blanket endorsement of every action the modern state of Israel takes.

Trump is a criminal running for president to save his skin. He supports Benjamin Netanyahu, the prime minister of Israel who is now himself wanted for war crimes. Trump has aligned himself with the authoritarian leaders/dictators of Hungary, China, North Korea, and Russia. He is open about his love for Russian president Vladimir Putin's authoritarian regime and stands against Ukraine's democracy and national sovereignty.

This is what happened before World War I and World War II.

I know this isn't what you follow me for.

But George Lucas was showing the dangers of authoritarianism. He shows that democracy is hard. It's frustrating trying to negotiate with people you disagree with vehemently. It may seem like nothing gets done.

Go and watch the Naboo picnic scene. Go and do it. And after chuckling at all the funny memes it's given us, let me tell you why it scares me so much.

Because Padme laughs.

Anakin tells her who he is, and she laughs.

She passes it off as a joke, or as flirting, or maybe even as just the ignorant views of a boy who views life as far more black and white than she knows it to be.

But the alternative to all of that frustrating democracy, all that gridlock in the Senate, all those choices and compromises you have to make in order to benefit the people at all ... the alternative is a dictator who says, "I will make all the decisions for us."

That's why there are people who applaud Palpatine. That's why we as viewers see Bail and Padme as the reasonable ones and think it's crazy that anyone would applaud, but they do.

The applaud because Palpatine says, "You don't have to be frustrated anymore. You don't have to be worried about those who disagree with you anymore." Safety and security and ease are powerful temptations when you live in a polarized society, and Palpatine offers them all of those things.

That's why many people applaud Trump, too.

There were also people who applauded Palpatine who did see the danger of what he was doing. But they applauded because it was easier to do so. He had already amassed power because they didn't stand up to him before. They applaud him now because standing against him now would have dire consequences they wouldn't have faced if they had stood against him before.

So vote. And get your friends to vote.

If there is any part of you that believes Star Wars has important things to tell us about real life, then I need you to fan that flame into a fire.

Otherwise, you won't be living in the prequels anymore. You will be living in the time of the Empire.

Vote.

[keerysfreckles]

OKAY BUUT IF ITS NOT TO MUCH CAN U DO A LUKE CASTELLAN X APOLLO READER AND LIKE IF U EVER HEARD pure as the driven snow (hunger games song) I CAN TOTALLY SEE APOLLO READER SINGING THIS TO HIM INFRONT OF PEOPLE

(Sorry for typing in caps I got excited 😰 but it’s okay if u don’t this request 🫶🫶🫶)

mamma mia — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: i did twist this request only with the song, i used lay all your love on me by abba :) i hope you still like it!

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

saturday's were y/n's favorite day. not only because it was a free day throughout the whole camp, but also because of the apollo singalong at the bonfire.

every weekend a camper or two from apollo's cabin would take turns performing to start off the night. this weekend it was y/n's turn.

herself, and her two closest friends from the cabin were all getting ready. abigail, a tall brunette, was wearing a blue and purple 70s inspired jumpsuit. they were flared at the bottom of the legs and elbows of the sleeves. she finished the look with her hair straightened with a matching purple scarf acting as a headband.

stephanie, a shorter blonde, was wearing a green and silver two piece 70s set. it was a halter styled top, paired with bell bottom pants. she wore the same white boots abigail had, and had her platinum blonde hair in a ponytail, with her bangs covering her forehead.

stephanie and abigail were currently setting up their mini stage for their performance. the other campers were starting to file in the area, filling the empty seats of the amphitheatre fairly quickly. stephanie noticed hermes' cabin was front and center. both girls knew y/n would love the fact her boyfriend was right in front of the stage.

abigail and stephanie finished setting the stage, and went to get y/n from the cabin as chiron and mr. d started to announce tonight's events.

"will you hurry up? lover boy is out there waiting," stephanie walks into the cabin, before looking over her outfit once more in the mirror.

"what steph means to say, is the stage is set, and camp is waiting for you," abigail stands behind y/n at the shared vanity, and places her hands on her shoulders.

y/n continues fiddling with her hair, which was teased slightly, with a white headband, with a few front pieces framing her face. she had a similar 70s inspired outfit like abigails. hers was pink and orange, and the top was cropped. her bottoms were the same colors and they had five layers of ruffles adorning the bottom. of course, she had matching white boots just like her sisters.

"what if i mess up?" y/n asks no one in particular.

abigail continues rubbing her shoulders, "you've never messed up one of our performances, why is this one so different?"

y/n shrugs, "maybe the fact luke and i are dating now? and i guess i still want to impress him."

"he's impressed with anything you do," stephanie speaks up from the other side of the cabin, "this can just be another thing he brags about to his friends. how cool his girlfriend, and her friends, are."

y/n stands from the vanity, and simply holds her arms out, "group hug before we go out there."

stephanie and abigail happily oblige before the trio start walking towards the amphitheatre. the three girls grab their matching white microphones and get into their very stereotypical stances on stage, just as chiron finishes his speech.

the music starts, which makes all the campers quit their side conversations.

abigail, y/n and stephanie who were in a line, were now in a triangle, as abigail starts singing.

"i wasn't jealous before we met. now every woman i see is a potential threat. and i'm possessive it isn't nice. you've heard me saying that smoking was my only vice."

abigail continues to sing the second verse, when y/n takes the center of the stage as abigail and stephanie stand behind her.

"don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me."

as soon as y/n met luke's eyes as she sang her line, she could've sworn she saw hearts in his eyes.

stephanie sang the next two verses, as y/n and abigail had choreography while they were behind the blonde.

y/n moved to the middle again, and the trio all began dancing with the same choreography. she started singing thr chorus again.

"don't go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me. don't go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me."

the campers had started clapping along and moving to the rhythm of the song, as the girls on stage sang another verse and the chorus a few more times.

as the song came to a close, y/n brought both of her friends into a hug, before chiron instructed for the ares cabin to gather the firewood for the bonfire.

y/n was talking with abigail and stephanie on stage, and shrieked when she felt a pair of arms pick her up and spin her around. her feet land on the marble ground instead of the stage. she turns in the stranger's arms and her smile grows once she sees luke.

"you look like you walked right out of an abba music video," he laughs.

"that was kinda the point babe," she leans up and kisses his cheek. "did you like the song?"

luke nods quickly, "you all were amazing, but you," he paused to kiss y/n's forehead, "i couldn't keep my eyes of you."

"it was meant for you, if you couldn't put that together," y/n giggles.

"oh i was hoping it was meant for me. if it was for any other camper i wouldn't hesitate to share a few words with you missy," he tries to sound affirmative with y/n, but it only makes the girl laugh more. the couple and the rest of the campers who were standing were all instructed to sit by chiron, as the ares' kids all came back with firewood.

luke kissed y/n's cheek once more before he dragged her to sit with him for the rest of the night.

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

To Vex A Viscount (of seas and torment entry)

based on this ask ♡

— regency era au

summary: simply nothing more could be required of a perfect evening when invited to a masquerade with the pleasure of vexing an easily irritable viscount.

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

warnings: none (though please do feel free to inform me if you find any!)

of seas and torment, make do (of seas and torment entry)

⚔°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You thank the gods for the salvation the mask wrapped around your face offers you. It will not do well if the other gossip-mongers see your distaste for the evening's festivities; they'd call you insolent, and you simply couldn't have that if you wished to find a husband.

Truly, you'd prefer readying yourself for a long night of restful slumber than being forced to simper and be delightful in the presence of the ton.

"Lady Jackson." You turn at the sound of your name, the voice all too familiar for you to mistake his identity even with the elaborate mask of golden feathers hiding his features.

"Lord Castellan." You acknowledge the viscount with a pleasant tone, though you were well-aware that the niceties shared between the both of you were merely for show. "Good evening."

"I wasn't expecting your presence tonight." Luke continues, speaking as he moves to stand closer to you. You take a deliberate step away from him, weary of anyone who might get the wrong idea.

"Neither was I." You answer truthfully. "But my mama and brother insisted on our attendance."

He looks down at you in amusement. "I do hope the soiree is to your liking."

"Of course." You nod, taking a sip from the beverage cradled in between your gloved fingers. "Lady Castellan always throws such magnificent balls."

You look for his mother amidst the crowds, her grin wide and welcoming as she conversed with your own.

Luke hums. "It was my idea to make it a masquerade. I hear it's quite fashionable in Italy."

"Ah, that must explain its banality." You twist your mouth. It was definitely a rude response, but Luke, at least once in the years you've known him, has never been offended by your brazen remarks. He took all of them in good humor.

He snorts. "I think it's rather romantic."

"And what do you know of romance, my lord?" You turn to him, eyes glinting in the candlelight as you begin to tease him. "Do enlighten me. You seem to be quite well-versed on the topic now that you've returned from your travels. I assume the continent must have been good to the matters of your heart."

He glances down at you from his peripheral. "It was. Very much, actually."

You raise an eyebrow, an invitation (or provocation) for him to speak more. He doesn't elaborate further.

You turn your attention elsewhere instead, watching as several young ladies are led onto the dance floor by the gentleman. The first few notes of a quadrille hum through the air.

"May I write my name on your dance card?" He asks after a moment, his eyes intently looking at the paper that dangled from a ribbon around your wrist.

You looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Me?"

"Surely, you will not have me dance with Percy?" He responds with pursed lips. His hand rises to pinch your card in between his fingers. He raises his brow for confirmation.

Your eyes narrow instantly. Your tone is near accusatory when you voice your confusion. "Why, may I ask, should you wish to dance with me?"

"Must I need a reason to?" He counters.

"Seeing as we've been at each other's throats throughout the entire season, I would assume so, yes." You nod your head. He was acting out of sorts, and it was terribly bothersome. Ever since he returned from abroad, there has been an evident shift in his attitude, more so in his treatment of you. "I believe I am owed an explanation."

You clear your throat, adding: "Perhaps you've taken a sip too many of your whiskey."

"Shall I breathe in your face to prove my sobriety?" Luke remarks dryly. "Indulge me for old times' sake. We learned to dance together, after all."

Memories of a sweltering july tucked in your family's country home came in a vague recollection— guests invited over to stay for a short retreat, taking daily swims in the bay, relaxing underneath a canopy of trees, munching on more sweets tinted blue than you could ever consume again, and a disgruntled gentleman teaching (or at least attempting to) you and Luke the beginning sequences of a routine.

He stands with an arm against his hip, his gaze neutral but his fidgeting made you aware of his impatience. You squinted your eyes as if in thought, aiming to irk him further.

"Vexing woman," He mutters underneath his breath as he grabs the drinking glass from your hold and gingerly places it on top of a cabinet. He takes your hand in his and leads you to the dancefloor just as a waltz is announced.

"Another gentleman's name could have been written on my card." You chastise him. He stretches your clasped hands to the side, his other hand moving to rest at your waist. Though you've not danced with him in a long time, your other hand immediately lays on his shoulder. Both of your feet move in tandem, limbs moving gracefully without much thought.

"I highly doubt it. You've been keeping to yourself the entire evening." He sniffs to dismiss your point. "I must admit, I found it difficult to discern where you ended and the wallpaper began."

You step on his foot. He groans. You smile.

He guides you through practiced circles around the dance floor, never missing a step or beat. His eyes bore into yours, a deep brown that reminded you of chocolate ganache and dancing flames, of warm summers and breezy evenings, of playful goading and a mutual respect, of innocence and an imperciptible heat you've not paid any mind too up until his return.

"You look very lovely." He says abruptly, soft like a whisper; almost as if he had no intention of speaking the thought aloud.

"What?" You reply in disbelief.

"Unfortunate that such a pretty face should belong to a woman with such faulty hearing." He sighs mockingly, murmuring under his breath but loud enough for you to hear. You attempt to step on his foot again, but he moves just in time with an omniscient grin. He repeats his words with more clarity. "I said you look very lovely."

"I..." You struggle for a response. You avert your gaze, blushing. "Thank you."

The music slowly comes to an end and as you separate to bow, he seizes your hand once more. He places a gentle kiss on the back of your glove before turning your palm. His eyes lock on yours as he bends down to kiss your wrist, his lips meeting your pulse. You feel your heartbeat become more erratic with each moment his gaze lingers.

"Well done, sister." Percy claps his hands from behind you. Luke stands straighter, though his lotions are more fluid. "This is the first time I've seen you dance without tripping on your own feet."

"Oh, shut up." You huff, pushing him back into the crowd. Luke follows behind you with a chuckle, his fingers dancing with the ribbon dangling at the back of your frock.

taglist: @ryujinraven (SORRY POOKIE IT SLIPPED MY MIND)

[neptuneiris]

brooklyn baby (01/?)

i've got my eye on you

pairing: rockstar!aemond × fem!reader

summary: you go with your cousins to a concert of the band "Dragon Dynasty" in Brooklyn, although you are not a fan of the band, the guitarist catches your attention.

word count: 7.7k

series masterlist • next part

hello beautiful people, here I am again with a new fic! I'm so happy and very excited to start this, I hope you like it a lot, that you enjoy it and I'm looking forward to your support and your comments that I always love to answer:) seriously you guys are amazing!

I still don't know how many chapters this story will have but it won't be more than 10, so wait for them. thank you very much for reading loves, enjoy!

warnings: none yet.

He is so majestic.

It's the first thing you think when the band finally comes out on stage and the concert starts, causing the screams of a bunch of girls all around you all over the place, all of them joined by your cousins, Baela and Rhaena.

You don't even understand how the three of you managed to make it to the front, just Baela and Rhaena acted in survival mode and started dragging you all over the place, making their way through the crowd to get face to face with all the band members.

And now… you're sure that by the time this is all over, tomorrow the two of them won't have a voice because of all the screaming.

At first you thought it would just be another band that doesn't have a big audience and that even though it's a band you don't know, you'd still have a good time. Although it's not like it was an option not to come, your cousins literally forced you to.

However, you're surprised to see that the place is full and all the girls are going crazy, as well as your cousins already made sure to tell you all about the band, tell you what you need to know and show you their favorite songs all the way here.

Basically the band, Dragon Dynasty, just debuted at the end of last year and is already getting some pretty good recognition.

And not only for the music, but also for the appearance… peculiar, of all the members.

When Rhaena showed you pictures of all of them, either as a group or individually, you understood the obsession of both of them. They all have platinum hair and look as if they had stepped out of the very palace of the Greek Gods, all absolutely attractive and very sexy.

And now seeing them in person, just a few feet away from you, is very different from seeing them in their social media photos.

The lead singer, Aegon Targaryen, is the one who introduces all the band members and starts the concert. And every time he approaches the edge of the stage, the girls again scream, as they scream at every verse he sings.

Then Rhaena records and focuses more on the bass player, Luke, with his short platinum hair and sitting on one of the speakers, focused on his notes. While Baela, of course, focuses on the drummer named Jace, Luke's older brother.

You understand from the great information your cousins gave you about all of them that they are all brothers, except that Jace and Luke are cousins of the vocalist Aegon, the piano guy and the guy who plays the electric guitar, the last three being brothers.

You focus for a moment on the piano guy, who from Baela's information, he is the same age as Jace. He definitely has an incredible resemblance to his brothers and from time to time he smiles towards the crowd, or rather towards the girls, who of course scream and go completely crazy with those simple gestures.

But when you look at him… the guitarist… you immediately can't take your eyes off him.

When your cousins showed you the pictures of all of them, it was precisely him who caught your attention the most of all, Aemond Targaryen.

At first you thought that his pictures with that aesthetic on him were just for the band, as a way to draw attention, however, Rhaena explained to you that he doesn't really have a left eye.

In some photos he has a black patch on and in some others he doesn't, so instead there is a shiny ocean blue stone, like a sapphire, inside where his eye should be. And when Rhaena explained to you that this is how he really lives, it definitely caught your attention a lot more.

But not only for that, also for his style of clothes, whether they were black or black with white, as well as his expressions in the photos did not really show much.

In all of them he didn't look at the camera, he was always looking away with a serene and serious look at the same time, to show himself in the same way every time he looked at the camera with his guitar at all times and his platinum hair long and completely loose.

And now to see him in person… he still looks the same way, serious and completely focused on his guitar, except for his brothers and cousins who focus on the audience from time to time, but not him.

And just like that, you can't take your eyes off of him, as if he were an invisible attractive force, delighted by the way he focuses on playing his notes, his fingers moving across the strings and his bare arms showing you some tattoos on his pale skin.

Everything about him… it's just alluring, sexy, mysterious and at the same time… dangerous, as if it's not right to involve you somehow with him, but being so striking and exciting at the same time.

"They're great, huh?"

Baela shouts to you over the music, with a huge excited smile, as you nod, really unable to stop focusing on him.

"Yes, they are."

Actually the band is really good, regardless of the looks of the members, because what looks.

The songs are like a mix of Arctic Monkeys, The Neighbourhood, Cigarettes After Sex and some Lana del Rey type instrumentals, they also have more danceable songs in the style of The 1975, but all with cool guitar and drum instrumentals.

You really like them, the style of their music is to your liking, but again… you can't help but focus on him.

The concert lasts a little more than an hour, where during some little intermissions, you saw how he was lighting a cigarette and playing the guitar at the same time, so it was more and more impossible to take your eyes off him, listening how sometimes the girls were shouting his name and he was greeting them back with a simple nod of his head, that being enough to drive them crazy.

And by the time everything ends, the vocalist Aegon starts to say goodbye to all the members with an euphoria and an energy that he gave off all over the audience so that they would react in the same way.

"I want to hear loud cheers for our drummer, Jace!"

Baela screams like crazy next to you, leaving you completely stunned, as well as more girls around you, while the mentioned stands up from his seat and waves goodbye to all of them, smiling.

"To our pianist, my little brother, Daeron!"

More shouts, as he also waves goodbye with his hands and with a charming and flirtatious smile to all the girls, moving closer to the stage, that making many girls come closer to the edge, wanting to touch him, as he laughs and takes several of them by the hand.

"To our bassist, Luke!"

Rhaena is now the one who leaves you stunned from your left ear, as more girls shout, while the boy smiles and looks a little shy, looking very cute, waving goodbye to all of them with his hand, then lowering his gaze with his cheeks slightly blushing.

You see how Aemond next to him gives him a friendly tap on his shoulder, watching him with a small half smile and looking somewhat amused by his behavior, that catching your attention a lot, since you didn't see him smile much towards his audience.

"Now for our guitarist, Aemond!"

You clap, but don't shout, seeing how immediately the place is filled with screams and more applause, realizing that even though he's not very expressive and doesn't react much to the audience, still the girls are completely crazy about him.

And you don't blame them, it's obvious that's because of how incredibly handsome and sexy that man is.

However, even so he doesn't react much again to his applause, only waves goodbye with one of his hands, really watching everyone expressionless, reading on his lips as he says "thank you" and then turns around and picks up a bottle of water.

You bite your lips, still watching him, when finally Aegon gives the closing.

"And at last your server, ladies!" says the vocalist in a flirtatious manner, again the place exploding in cheers, "That's been all Brooklyn, thank you so much for having us. See you next time, we love you guys!"

He does get closer to the audience, instantly the guards react to take care of him, while he takes everyone's hands and also takes some bracelets or necklaces that the girls give him, while he smiles and blows kisses.

The rest of the members start to leave the stage, while Aegon continues to take all the screams and those little gifts, really getting along very well with the audience, to finally after a few moments, say goodbye and leave the stage.

"Did you like them?"

Rhaena asks you as the three of them stand, waiting for all the other girls to leave the not so big but not so small club.

"Yes, their songs are fine," you nod to her.

"Their songs or the guitarist rather?" Baela asks you with a mischievous look.

"Oh come on," you give her a look of few friends, still nerves giving you away.

"I knew it!" squeals Rhaena with a huge smile, "I knew you weren't more asking about him than the others for nothing."

"And I don't blame you," adds Baela, "With those tattoos who wouldn't be crazy about him?"

"But you like Jace and he doesn't have tattoos."

"Aemond is fine, like exaggeratedly fine," she clarifies, "But I feel like I wouldn't stand a chance with him, plus he's too serious and too closed off for my taste," she explains.

"But Y/N did like him," Rhaena says, folding her arms, watching you with a huge smile.

You roll your eyes, amused.

"I think the same as Baela, I feel like I wouldn't be able to get close to him, he looks very… serious and distant," you say finally, " Beside it's not like I'm going to get the chance, he's just a guy in a band that I liked, just like I like Harry and Zayn from One Direction or Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys."

"Oh he's so hot," Rhaena says with a little giggle.

"Who of the three of them?" asks Baela.

"The three of them."

You nod, more than agreeing with her.

"Anyway…" says Balea, "Turning our focus back to this band, maybe you can get close to the sexy guitarist tonight."

"Hm?" you say instantly not understanding, looking at her confused.

Then from her bag Baela pulls out what appear to be three rectangular sheets of paper, but when you look closely, they are actually three tickets to who knows what.

"These are tickets to the band's after party," she says excitedly.

At first you don't finish processing anything, watching her like a fool, when Rhaena squeals more than happy and in disbelief, instantly grabbing you both by the arm to rush out of the club in the direction of the party, while you're still processing and asking Baela how she got those tickets.

"Savings," she tells you simply and without much explanation.

Leaving the club is a bit difficult because of all the other girls who are also trying to leave, when the three of you are already arriving at the corresponding small pub where the after party will be, which in fact is right behind the club where the band gave the concert, so getting there doesn't take any time at all.

Once outside the pub, there are other girls waiting to get in, all excited and impatient, some of them have their own band t-shirts and posters for the band to sign. And at the entrance there are two huge men, asking for tickets and complying with security protocol to let them in.

"Help me take a picture with Luke when it's my turn, please," Rhaena asks you.

"Sure."

"Me too," Baela says instantly, "With Jace."

"Okay," you tell her amused.

Then finally all three of you hand the tickets to the seemingly bodyguard, only to enter without any trouble as you go through security protocols as well.

Rhaena shakes you by the arm excitedly, trying to control herself, as the three of you walk into the place, where you instantly recognize those platinum hairs spread all over the pub, already receiving the fans.

The place is considerably spacious, it doesn't feel as suffocating as at the concert and there's definitely more room to move around despite the fact that more girls are constantly coming in to meet the guys.

The bar is free, there is light rock music playing in the background and there are more bodyguards watching out.

You see how all the fans line up and wait their turn with each respective member, being the first to recognize the vocalist, Aegon, who more than smiling signs T-shirts, posters, hats and even phone cases. Also the pianist, Daeron, who takes selfies and also signs.

But when Rhaena identifies Luke, she quickly squeals and prepares to go to him with her T-shirt ready to be signed by him in hand, as does Baela, focusing on Jace.

You walk Rhaena over first, promising Baela to keep an eye out for her for when it's her turn with Jace, then start lining up, trying to calm your cousin's nerves as you sense she'll throw up at any moment or be unable to speak coherently to the bassist.

Then when Rhaena gets distracted on her phone, setting up the camera for pictures, you instantly think of the guitarist and start looking for him.

However, the only ones you see are Aegon, Daeron, Luke and Jace, with no fifth long platinum hair. Confused, you go back over the whole place, really him nowhere to be seen, realizing that there are girls specifically with posters of him, also just like you looking for him, all of them confused and disappointed.

And you don't understand, isn't he supposed to be here too?

You find it strange that out of all of them, it is him especially who doesn't make any appearance, while all the other members do attend to their fans, apparently not worried about the absence of their guitarist or anyone else actually, just the fans.

Inevitably you also start to get disappointed, but you immediately focus on Rhaena, as her turn will be soon and she insists that you help her calm down, giving her encouragement and support.

When the time comes.

The boy, Luke, is actually very sweet, instantly giving his full attention to Rhaena, who acts just as shy as he is, looking excited as the two gently embrace, while he asks her name and introduces himself to her as well.

He signs her T-shirt, also her phone case, all while they both talk, to then move on to the selfie and finally the photo, while you watch with a small smile as the boy's cheeks blush and Rhaena is more than excited and nervous at the same time, hugging him and smiling for the photo.

"This is my cousin, by the way, Y/N," Rhaena shyly introduces you to him as they both separate.

"Oh, hi Y/N, I'm Luke," the boy says to you with a charming smile, not being able to cause you more tenderness, "Thanks for coming."

"Hi," you say smiling, "Nice to meet you, Luke."

You take advantage of the moment and also take a selfie with him and Rhaena, where the three of you come out all smiles, without his cheeks stop blushing, and then pass the next fan.

Rhaena can't stop smiling, again shaking your arm excitedly and on the verge of collapsing with happiness, as she quickly goes through the photos, announcing that she will upload them to her Instagram stories this instant.

You laugh and then she heads off to line up to meet Daeron now, while you now head to Baela.

Unlike with Rhaena and Luke, you can clearly identify your cousin's flirting methods and surprisingly Jace reacts completely to her, looking just as flirty as she does, talking in her ear and both of them very close to each other.

You take their picture and get excited for your cousin, seeing how both of them even after the picture talk to each other, still very close, with that clear interest in the body behavior of both of them, but more of him towards her.

And you don't blame him either, no doubt your cousins are very beautiful, you always tell them every day and they tell you too.

At the end Baela also introduces you with Jace, he also looking very nice and friendly like his little brother, just not as cute, but very sexy.

Then after finishing with Jace, Baela turns to Rhaena, getting her in line to meet Daeron where both of them will now help each other with the pictures, so you head to the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools, observing everything and taking the opportunity to order a free drink.

"Can I have a gin and tonic, please?" you ask the bar tender.

"Of course," the man says politely.

While he prepares your drink, you take the opportunity to check your social media, entertaining yourself for a moment and also looking at the time, realizing that it's almost midnight, so you'll probably be home by two in the morning.

You let out a long breath and at that moment the bar tender hands you the gin and tonic, you thank him and start drinking, relaxing and keeping your eye on your cousins.

When at that moment you remember him again, Aemond, so hopefully you look around the place again, looking for him, but you are surprised to see that there is still no sign of him, really confusing you.

The girls who were also looking for him before, line up to take pictures with Aegon, but like you, they also seem to be looking for him, without success.

It continues to seem weird to you and you feel really disappointed, just realizing in that instant how terribly disappointed you are, as if you've been a fan of his for months, when you've only just met him tonight, telling yourself what the hell is wrong with you.

So time passes, you watch as your cousins after meeting Daeron, head to Aegon, nothing really being quick as they take their time with each fan, until you finish your gin and tonic, not ordering anything else as you must be driving and stand at the bar, waiting.

It's until a few minutes later that you decide to go to the restroom, asking the bar tender where they are and he points you to a hallway at the back, instantly thanking him and heading that way.

You see how in the hallway there are four doors and you head to the two at the back, having the signs for the women's restroom and men's restroom, but when you try to open the door, it doesn't open, being occupied, realizing that it's only one restroom instead of several.

You let out a long breath, as this is common in small pubs, having to wait in the hallway, leaning against the wall for the girl inside to come out.

Again you distract yourself with your phone, holding back the urge to pee, trying not to get desperate, glancing from time to time through the hallway entrance at all the girls out there, being able to see your cousins from this distance, not long before it's their turn to meet Aegon.

You bite your lips and continue to wait, when as you are leaning between the wall and under the frame of one of the other doors that you have no idea where they go, it suddenly opens and you almost lose your balance, stabilizing yourself instantly and moving away, watching the person with some surprise and shame.

When the nerves and the surprise invade you completely, seeing that it is him, the guitarist.

He really looks at you without any expression on his face, while you place the appropriate distance between the two of you in this small hallway, still looking at him surprised and like an idiot, instantly telling yourself off to act normal, still watching him carefully.

And how could you not? The man is absolutely beautiful.

Compared to the concert, you have him face to face, his features being more than perfectly visible, admiring the shape of his lips and nose, as if it had been carefully carved, then nervously observing his intense blue eye and his sapphire eye, looking amazing and beautiful to you.

Then you quickly observe his various tattoos on both arms, recognizing a musical note, tree branches, birds, a moon and other figures you don't instantly identify, but you notice perfectly how he has a dragon on his shoulder.

Again you look him in the eye, getting instantly nervous because he is already watching you intensely, looking away from him because of the same nerves, having no idea how to really react since he doesn't move, neither do you and you feel unable to speak, feeling a lump in your throat.

He is simply too handsome and too sexy.

You think in the midst of all your nervousness, when the two of you are simply there, not far away but not too close either, suddenly feeling the hallway too small and feeling out of nowhere suffocated, not understanding what's wrong with you.

"Are there many people out there?"

He asks you suddenly, definitely not expecting that, as he stands still in the doorway, watching you, while you barely process the sound of his voice, watching him like an idiot for a moment.

React!

Your mind reprimands you, really not wanting to embarrass yourself with him, much less when he's just asked you something.

You clear your throat and control yourself, to look back towards the center of the pub, where there are indeed a lot of girls and there are many especially who want to see him. You bite your lips and return your nervous, attentive gaze to him, realizing that he hasn't even come out into the hallway, keeping himself hidden in that room.

"Yes," you finally say to him, trying to sound like a normal person, not letting your nerves completely get the better of you.

He lets out a long breath, then averts his gaze from yours and you watch as he carefully peeks out of the doorframe, this catching your attention, as he inspects everything and honestly looks a little irritated, which you don't understand why.

And at that moment you don't know if you should, considering he still wants to keep himself hidden, but also Baela's voice tells you: bitch, take advantage and talk to him, you literally have him right in front of you!

Yes, that's something she would tell you if she saw you now.

"You're not a fan of being among so many people?"

You ask him softly, overcoming your nerves, but again you feel your heart leap in your chest as he looks at you again.

"Not much," he answers you.

And at that moment, you only admire more of his handsome features he offers you as you stand face to face with his profile, actually making you very nervous. And his answer actually makes sense to you.

He on stage is very calm and quiet, so now having to be among all the fans, it really doesn't seem to be his strongest suit.

"Still a lot of girls are looking forward to seeing you," you tell him softly, "They all look very excited."

You see how he frowns a bit, not saying anything back to you, which alerts you a bit since you really don't want to ruin this opportunity by talking to him, even though it seems you already have, but… what did you say wrong?

He continues to look at you like that, so intensely, when then you see perfectly how he looks you up and down, definitely making you more nervous than before, and then you see how he puts his hands in his front pockets and leans on the door frame casually.

The image couldn't have infarcted you more, as he does everything in a calculated manner, movements so simple that they already completely steal your breath away, only for him to tilt his head and continue watching you with that intensity, but now also curious.

"And you don't?"

He asks you with that soft but so manly voice that makes you part your lips, completely weakening your legs, watching him for a moment without understanding while he watches you expectantly, but still with that sexy demeanor.

"You weren't expecting to see me?"

Oh my God.

You think, unable to answer him, your voice right now not working, much less when he continues with his burning gaze in your direction, now having no idea how to behave.

However, you know you must be behaving like a fool in his eye, so you force yourself to answer him but truthfully.

"Actually," you start to say, trying to control your nerves, "I'm waiting for the person in the restroom to come out," you point your gaze to the door, to again watch him.

Then he too watches the restroom door for a moment, to again focus on you, watching perfectly as he presses his lips together in a soft, thin line and then you see what appears to be a small, barely visible grin appear.

And even though you didn't see him smile much during the concert, nor does he do it in his band's promotional photos, now that you see him do it and only meters away from you, the man couldn't look more beautiful to you.

"Hm," is all he says, turning back to watching you like that, his gaze completely attentive and burning, all his attention on you.

Holy shit.

That's all you can think, watching him without taking your eyes off him, just as he does with you, again feeling the space suddenly very small and the air hot.

When suddenly, you see perfectly well how he opens his mouth to say something, taking a step forward, calling your full attention, but at the moment he does that, a girl at the beginning of the hallway shouts his name at the sight of him.

And that's when chaos breaks out.

The girl quickly heads towards him, excited, instantly being followed by a bunch of other girls, all holding caps and t-shirts for him to sign, wasting no time and completely breaking the spell between the two of you.

You watch Aemond again and he's already watching you, but instantly he starts giving attention to all the girls, being surrounded by all of them, to which you can't help but feel disappointed because the moment is over, since... you don't know what the fuck was going on a few seconds ago with him but you were enjoying it.

When at that moment the door to the women's restroom finally opens, a girl coming out of it but now being difficult to get back to the center of the pub because of Aemond and all his girls obstructing the way.

You head for the restroom, suddenly feeling that same attentive and burning gaze on your back again for a few seconds as you close the door behind you. You take all the time in the world, trying to calm your heart rate and trying to stop feeling your hot skin, processing what happened out there with him, really taking a considerable amount of time.

You realize you need Baela's advice, thinking about texting her right now and getting her to give you techniques so you don't get nervous, but you doubt she'll text back if she's still getting to know the rest of the members of the band.

However, you don't know if you should ask Aemond for a picture or not, not being very sure about it, but you know that if you don't ask him for a picture or an autograph, you will regret it tomorrow.

You let out a sigh, looking at yourself in the mirror and telling yourself that you have to control, that you shouldn't act like a fool and that you should behave as normal as possible, not letting your nerves get the better of you.

In the end you don't text anyone, you gather your courage and finally come out of the restroom.

The first thing you see is how Aemond is still there, only now with few girls, in fact finishing signing an autograph for them, to which you watch him carefully and attentively, again having no idea whether to go back to the center of the pub to find your cousins and get their advice before going back to him or ask for his autograph here, taking advantage of it.

But you don't even have anything he can sign for you, except your phone case.

However, the time to think and decide is over when the girls take a picture with him and then start to walk away, all of them looking at him with that excited gaze and of complete desire, while Aemond looks at them one last time and... he watches you again.

And there you have your nerves again, but you don't let them get the better of you, lowering your gaze for a moment, thinking quickly about what to say to him, feeling again that tension between the two of you now that you are alone again in this small hallway.

And at this, Aemond decides to act fast, considering the after party isn't over yet.

"Do you want me to sign something for you?"

He asks you while directing all his attention towards you, with those fucking movements he makes that aren't that big of a deal but completely steal your breath, standing completely still and watching him carefully.

Talk, act, react!

Your fed up and annoyed mind tells you, also Baela's voice if she saw you at this moment, so that's what you do, however, again you respond with the truth and with shame.

"Yes, I'd love to," you look at him nervous, "But I don't really have anything for you to sign."

"You bought tickets to our after party and you didn't bring anything the band can sign for you?"

Oh God.

You think on the verge of collapsing in embarrassment, as he again looks at you between slightly confused and curious.

"Well, I didn't know my cousin had bought tickets to meet you. It was actually her and my other cousin who brought me to the concert," you explain, trying not to show how really nervous you are, as he tilts his head in your direction.

"So you're not a fan," he assumes and you're so embarrassed that he's right.

"But... you were still amazing tonight," you tell him instantly, being terribly honest, "I liked your music and will definitely listen to it often."

He nods slowly in your direction, apparently now understanding you, watching you even with that curiosity and again that small, barely visible grin appearing on his lips, watching him run you from head to toe, not being able to make you any more nervous than you already are.

"Hm," he says in nod, "That explains why you didn't jump on me the second I opened the door."

You let out a nervous little laugh, looking away from him for a second.

"Disappointed?" you ask him a bit amused.

"Just a little."

You smile softly in his direction, not showing your teeth, as he continues to make you nervous and make you feel as if the space between you is very short and the air is hot as he continues to watch you like that, as if inspecting you and as if he wants to see right through you.

However, you know that the moment can be broken at any moment if more girls come looking for him, so you don't get your hopes up too high. When suddenly he averts his gaze and points you to the door through which he left a few moments ago.

"It's our break room," he tells you, "There are new t-shirts and posters in there, if you want I can sign one of them and give it to you."

Oh my...

You feel the excitement run through you, definitely not expecting that, starting to feel your heart rate accelerate, but you instantly get yourself under control and tell yourself that no way are you going to pass up the opportunity.

"Well, if it's no problem," you nod to him.

He starts backing away, as he heads for the door.

"Come."

And you don't hesitate to follow him.

He opens the door for you, watching you intently and again with that intensity, to which you again feel like your heart will probably jump out of your chest, from excitement and also from nerves, to finally enter the room.

You don't even know why but a shiver runs through your whole body, bristling your skin, as he closes the door behind you and walks past you, his arm gently brushing yours, feeling for an instant his burning skin.

He heads towards a table, while you watch him attentively and take a look at the room, not big but not small either, seeing how there are numerous backpacks, sound equipment, tables, chairs, a couch and also a table with snacks and bottles of water.

There are also the guitar cases, identifying his guitar on the couch, where he was probably sitting playing before, hiding from everyone out there. The noise here is less, you hear more the background music than voices, actually this space being very calm.

"What do you prefer?"

You suddenly hear him say to you, instantly causing you to stop surveying the room and focus on him, who is already watching you intently, pointing out the caps, t-shirts or posters on the table.

"Or do you want all three?" he observes you with that grin.

Focus, Y/N. You can do it.

You tell yourself, not wanting him to affect you any more than he's already affecting you or you'll ruin this moment by letting yourself get carried away by nerves, which is just what you don't want.

So you try not to focus too much on his mannerisms when he's talking to you.

"The shirt is fine," you point out to him.

You're not a big fan of the caps and posters you like but on this occasion... you're going more for the T-shirt.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

You choose the T-shirt in your size while he picks up a pen, then you hand it to him and he starts writing.

"What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeats slowly as he writes it down.

This sends a wave of excitement and nerves throughout your body because of the way he has said it, concentrating on his writing, while you watch him intently, still finding the shape of his face and also his hair majestic, looking more majestic having him right in front of you.

You really don't understand what's wrong with him but God... he's really beautiful.

"So you're not a fan hm?"

He says to you as he finishes signing and hands you the shirt, instantly placing a nervous little smile, taking it.

"Actually no. My cousins brought me, they were both very excited and needed someone to drive."

At this he again looks interested and turns around to lean against the edge of the table casually, crossing his arms, watching you, while you stand next to him and almost have to lift your whole head up to him so you can look him in the eye as you talk.

"You don't live in Brooklyn?"

You shake your head.

"Manhattan."

He frowns slightly.

"Manhattan?"

He repeats and you nod, watching him curiously for a moment as you watch him think in silence for a few seconds, then again watching you curious and confused at the same time.

"And why your cousins didn't buy tickets for the concert we're giving there next Friday?"

"Oh," you go blank for a moment, but react instantly, remembering, "Well, they did want to buy tickets, but they had credit card problems and by the time they fixed it, all the tickets were sold out and they bought the Brooklyn ones," you explain.

He doesn't say anything else to you for a few seconds, watching you intently, as he has been watching you all along, so intently that you feel your legs go weak, to which you nervously avert your gaze from him and look at the T-shirt in your hands, seeing his autograph.

And all you can think about is how crazy Baela and Rhaena will go when you tell them this.

"Pick something for your cousins," he says suddenly, making you look at him again, "I'll sign it too."

"Oh, sure, thanks."

You tell him with a nervous little smile to start choosing, beginning to believe that you'll never really stop feeling nervous in his presence, much less if you're both alone in this room.

For Rhaena you choose a poster for her, as she's a big fan of having lots of them of her favorite artists and sticking them all over her room, while for Baela you also choose a t-shirt.

You notice how Aemond walks away for a moment as you look for Baela's size, then return and begin to sign that for your cousins as well, again watching or rather subtly admiring his face of concentration as he begins to write.

"Here," he gives you everything, finishing.

"Thank you very much,"

You tell him sincerely, as he straightens up completely again, setting the pen down on the table and leaning back against the edge of it.

"You're welcome," he nods in your direction.

You look away, having no idea how to say goodbye to him, you don't even want the moment to end even though his gaze on you makes you feel so nervous, but for obvious reasons, your cousins must already be looking for you and you know he must be out here to attend to more of his fans.

"Hum... then I'll see you... out there, I guess," you smile at him, starting to walk away, "This was very kind of you."

"Wait."

He says to you suddenly, stopping your step, standing in front of him, as you watch him take a few more steps towards you, completely alerting you, but seeing him take a hand to the back of his pants, watching as he takes something from his pocket, confusing you but completely getting your attention.

Then his eye watches you back, his gaze so intense and so penetrating, as you watch him with your lips parted, this suddenly closeness suffocating you too much, not helping anything that the two of you are here alone.

However, he places his hand between the two of you, handing you something and when you look at it, confusion overtakes you further, seeing that they are tickets to his concert as they have the words 'Dragon Dynasty" printed in large letters on them.

"These are tickets for the concert in Manhattan, next Friday," he says softly, still hand them to you.

And even after explaining, you still don't finish processing anything, as he continues waiting for you to take them, while you continue to stand still and watch him like an idiot, slowly beginning to understand.

"B-but...

"Take them, Y/N," he says again, softly, watching you expectantly.

Take them? Just like that? For free?

You immediately deny, staring at him in confusion.

"No, but... I-I...wait, you...

"It's fine," she assures you, interrupting you.

"But you can't do this or can you?" you ask him totally bewildered and surprised, not believing it.

"Of course I can, in fact I'm doing it now," he tells you as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

But you continue to watch him confused, not understanding why he is doing this with you especially, again feeling the nerves invade you and the hot air hit you mercilessly, not being able to think straight.

"W-what? But...

"What is it?" he asks taking a step closer to you, stopping your heart for a second, "Don't you want to see me again?"

My God...

No. You can't do it anymore. It's right there when you lose it completely.

The way he has asked you, watching you completely attentively and with that barely visible grin, his body starting to invade your personal space, slowly leaning towards you, the space between you both ceasing to exist and all of him embracing you completely.

That delicious manly cologne hits your nostrils, also the slight smell of cigarette, everything about him being so alluring, so sexy, so mysterious and dangerous somehow.

And he does it all in such a calculating way... he doesn't even do it all that fast, he does it all slow, just the way he wants to catch you, while you slowly start to let yourself be carried away by him as well.

With your heart beating too fast, you look at the tickets in his hand and slowly raise your eyes to look at him, when he is already looking at you and just like that.

Don't you want to see me again?

His question repeats in your mind, at that moment no longer taking anything else into account. Because he is clearly flirting with you, and why do you not do the same?

"Do you want to see me again?"

You ask him in your soft, low voice, to which he only leans a little closer to you, that grin returning.

"Isn't it obvious?"

He tells you in the same way, his voice soft, low and completely calculating, his answer surprising and thrilling you, watching perfectly as he watches between your eyes and your lips, his eye completely full of desire, while you do the same.

You wonder what it will feel like to kiss him, how he will reciprocate, if soft or hard and if you will also feel his hands on your body, caressing you.

The atmosphere feels tense somehow, as you both start to invade each other's personal space, at the same time as your hand takes the tickets, all hot air and suddenly feeling that need to touch him, to kiss him, to feel him closer to you.

However, just as the small distance between the two of you starts to disappear, with all his delicious scent and his whole alluring body enveloping you completely, just at that damn moment the door suddenly opens.

You jump all the way back, scared and surprised, as the two of you stare at the door and Aegon is the responsible for the interruption.

"Dude, why are you still here? Cole's going to kill you if you don't come out this instant, you know? It's crazy out there, there's girls crying, they want to see you and you-oh....

He stops talking suddenly, barely in that instant realizing your presence as well even though you're standing next to Aemond, feeling embarrassment run through all your body, as he realizes what was probably going on here when he watches you both with his lips parted, so you lower your gaze in shame and bite your lips.

"My bad, sorry," he says and then slowly places a mischievous smile, now watching you and Aemond continuously, "I interrupted something, didn't I?"

You listen as Aemond clears his throat, no longer feeling the closeness of his body against yours, while you feel the embarrassment more.

"No," he tells him in a more serious voice and nothing compared to how he was speaking to you before.

"Oh," Aegon says again and you pluck up the courage to finally get out of here.

"Thank you," you say to Aemond without even looking at him, hurrying out of the room.

With all the things he signed in your hands and also the tickets, you don't even look at Aegon when you pass by his side, feeling so embarrassed and starting to feel your cheeks very hot, not bearing to be in his presences anymore.

And you don't even look back, you just run away, not being able to believe that you were about to make out with him, the sexy guitarist, Aemond.

You immediately look around like crazy for your cousins, seeing that Baela is taking a picture of Rhaena with Jace, so you quickly head towards them, acting normal, waiting for them to finish and by the time they do, you hand them the t-shirt and the poster.

"Where were you?" asks Baela confused.

"In the restroom and I got this for you," you say without much detail, the memory of Aemond's beautiful face near you still so fresh.

"Why are you so red?" asks you now Rhaena confused.

"I drank a gin and tonic," you lie, acting totally unconcerned with Aemond's lips about to touch yours still present .

"Did you talk to the sexy guitarist?" asks you Baela excited.

"Yes," you say acting unconcerned.

"And?"

"Nothing," you say with a shrug and she looks at you disappointed.

If only she knew.

But nothing ends there. Both of them now want a picture with Aemond even though they already have each his autograph, so you decide to wait again at the bar and they follow you, waiting for him to show up, you for anything in the world wanting to be near him again with your cousins around.

When then Aemond finally comes out of that hallway, appearing in the center of the pub with Aegon by his side, instantly you and him exchanging glances without even expecting it at all. And even with the embarrassment, you quickly avert your gaze from him, as the both begin to be surrounded by more girls, among them your cousins.

You're not sure exactly how much time passes, until finally Baela and Rhaena are satisfied and the three of you leave the pub, with half an hour left before the after party is over, but it's too late now and you have to drive.

However, before the three of you get in the car, you pull out the tickets that Aemond gave you for free and extend them to them.

"These are tickets for the concert in Manhattan, Aemond gave them to me," you say and then head for the driver's seat door, unlocking the doors.

And then all you hear as you start to leave your cousins behind are their screams.

During the whole ride, neither of them leave you alone, wanting to know exactly in detail what happened with the guitarist, Baela more than anything else feeling offended that you lied to her when she asked you if anything happened with him.

But when you tell them about everything and also about how the two of them almost kissed, she doesn't feel upset anymore and screams excitedly together with Rhaena, both surprised and unable to believe it, also unable to believe about the free tickets.

Luckily the questions don't last for the whole ride, so you also have time to think about him, Aemond, everything that happened with him and pretty much everything about him not leaving your thoughts alone as you drive from Brooklyn to Manhattan.

[loveerran]

LDS Doctrine, 8yr-old Transgender Children and Policy

One of the most shocking things about the new LDS policies for transgender children, is the policy that appears to deny or severely restrict their access to baptism. I discussed that briefly here (last year and recently). This post looks more at the doctrinal side of the question.

LDS doctrine has been amazingly clear and consistent on the treatment of little children prior to the age of accountability (defined as 8yrs-old in Doctrine & Covenants 68) from the very early days of the church. I honestly feel this issue has some nuance, but the church has been absolutely unwavering in stating the tenet that children under the age of 8 cannot sin, or even if they can their sin is swallowed up in the atonement of Christ automatically.

I might personally believe that accountability for actions is a continuum based on the light and law an individual has received (2 Nephi 9:25-6, Luke 12:47-9, Romans 4:15, 5:13, DC 137:7 – a continuum applying to all individuals, regardless of age). However, LDS doctrine and statements are emphatic in declaring the complete innocence of little children, and that the atonement covers them completely until the child is 8 years old:

Moroni 8:8,11-2,14,19 (verses 20+ are much harsher) “...wherefore little children are whole, for they are not capable of committing sin… their little children need no repentance… little children are alive in Christ, from the foundation of the world… little children cannot repent; wherefore it is awful wickedness to deny the pure mercies of God unto them…”

DC 20:71 “No one can be received into the church of Christ unless he has arrived at the years of accountability before God, and is capable of repentance”

DC 68:27 “And their children shall be baptized for the remission of their sins when eight years old, and receive the laying on of the hands”

DC 74:7 “But little children are holy, being sanctified through the atonement of Christ; and this is what the scriptures mean”

See also Mosiah 3:16, Mosiah 15:25, DC 29:46-7, DC 137:10, JST Genesis 17:3-11, etc.

Taken together, little children are whole and clean through Jesus Christ until they arrive at the years of accountability and are capable of repentance. And that age is 8 years old. Church leaders have repeatedly restated this:

Dallin H Oaks: “We understand from our doctrine that before the age of accountability a child is ‘not capable of committing sin’” (Dallin H. Oaks, “Sins and Mistakes,” Ensign, Oct. 1996, 65)

Bruce R. McConkie “There comes a time, however, when accountability is real and actual and sin is attributed in the lives of those who develop normally. It is eight years of age, the age of baptism.” (Bruce R. McConkie, “The Salvation of Little Children,” Ensign, Apr. 1977, 6)

And we can even see this in the policies laid out in the current General Handbook of Instructions:

31.2.3.1: Children who are Members of Record

(note: children of record are children whose names are on the rolls of the church prior to baptism at age 8)

"In the interview, the bishopric member ensures that the child understands the purposes of baptism (see 2 Nephi 31:5–20). He also ensures that the child understands the baptismal covenant and is committed to live by it (see Mosiah 18:8–10). He does not need to use a specified list of questions. This is not an interview to determine worthiness, since 'little children need no repentance' (Moroni 8:11)."

(bold emphasis mine)

But for the first time in our history, we have an exception to this rule, and it applies only if the child is transgender. Instead of a meaningful interview with the local bishop or one of his counselors about following Jesus, a transgender child (and only a transgender child) who dresses differently or uses a different name and pronouns must have a worthiness interview with the regional Stake President directly. There is no other ‘sin’ that calls for this, even when little children have somehow perpetrated horrible crimes. If the Stake President finds the child worthy (is this even possible under the new guidelines??), he recommends the child for baptism to the First Presidency. The First Presidency is the highest council/court in the church, from which there is no appeal. The First Presidency then chooses whether or not to permit the child to be baptized. This new policy is spelled out in the Handbook:

38.2.8.9: Individuals Who Identify as Transgender

"Any exception to this policy requires the approval of the First Presidency. To request approval, the mission president, or the stake president for an eight-year-old, interviews the person. If he finds the person to be worthy and if he recommends baptism and confirmation, he submits a request for approval to the First Presidency using LCR."

(bold emphasis mine)

In the past, the church has denied baptism to the children of polygamists and to the children of gays (possibly others). In those cases, it could always be said the child’s parents were at fault, not the child themselves. This new policy is a marked departure from that and, in my opinion, is inconsistent with the church’s doctrine. I hope to see this policy adjusted as other policies have been when they do not align well with our core values and doctrines.

Love,

Erran

[yawneon]

luke with dionysus!reader where he tries to convince them to join him but reader has a good relationship with their dad so they can’t understand? 👉👈

THE PLEADS OF A SNAKE

~

pairing : luke castellan x reader

summary : in which luke castellan tries to convince you the gods are evil, they are the sickly ones. right?

!!! : charlie luke not hot book buzzcut era coriolanus jason luke (but every version of luke is hot), unedited and unread (im so tired pls it’s 1 am), crazy luke, i love dadionysus

a/n : I FUCKING LOVE THIS PROMPT IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH LET ME FUCKING COOOOOOOK 😈😈‼️‼️‼️‼️

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

it was cold at camp, usually the days were warm throughout, but today was off. everything seemed off. the trees swayed in the wrong ways and the campers were messing everything up when you were teaching archery basics. today was weird.

you walk to the big house from the lake in camp, your mind wandering places much further than the boundaries in camp half-blood. you watched as the wind hit the grass and the leaves but today just didn’t seem… right.

a group of campers all huddle around a table at the arts & crafts building they all seem, weird?

maybe it was you. maybe you were tired and your mind was playing tricks on you. today was the day percy came back to camp, maybe it was that.

you walk down past the volleyball courts, a group of losing and very angry ares kid’s were versing a group of extremely sly and giggly hermes kids obviously riling the opposing team up. you walk past knowing you would have to split that up later.

the walk to the big house seemed almost ritual at this point. your father was the MR D, the big dog of camp half blood. being one of dionysus’ only children at camp currently you have been appointed to ahem, cabin 12 counselor which mainly consisted of telling your 2 brothers to shut up.

many campers envied you and your tight knit family relationship. having mr d as your dad wouldn’t seem the most optimal parent by seeing his fiery temper sometimes and his lack of effort to remember names but in reality you had hit the godly parent lottery.

although at times you don’t know if you should call him dad or mr d, a life with dionysus was never a boring one i give you that. from the game nights at the big house to being an all year round camper, you were eternally grateful to have such a funny yet theatrical dad.

-

the sunlight pans down onto the path infront of you, the smell of summer still lingers in the air despite winters call. the green grass swishes in the wind and the trees follow. you took in a deep breath before your eyes land on the big, blue house infront of you again.

your steps to the big house became faster, the crave for some fatherly advice becoming stronger. you push open the door and you look for your dad. you see him sat at a round table next to chiron and they play a game of cards. you sit at an empty chair and you sigh down.

“whats wrong with you?” dionysus furrows his eyebrows, his worry hidden by his pursed lips.

“dunno. something about today just seems so…” you try to explain but the words can’t come out and your brain gets all fuzzy trying to describe it.

“yeah. right.” mr d furrows his eyebrows further as another tight-lipped expression is following on his lips. chiron gives him a hardened look. his eyes saying comfort your child silently.

your dad pushes out a slight sigh and he looks up at you, “you’re probably just in your head, kid. go swing your sword around and i’ll organise something with your brothers tonight.” his face softens. dionysus wasn’t the best at showing his love, especially when he was banished to live and direct this camp but despite all that he always showed up as a father so you listened to him.

you nod quietly standing from the chair you were sat in. you say your goodbyes to the two men and you walk to the armory, the hair on your arms standing up as you do.

-

the sun begins to lower in the sky, yellow and orange paint the horizon beautifully. the bright sun sinks slowly behind the trees into the west. your walk to the armory was dreadfully uneventful, the scattered campers staying to themselves as you walk by. you had bent the main sword you use so the armory was your first stop instead of the arena.

you push the door to the armory open slowly.

dust flies into the air and light pours into the dark room from the doorway. you walk into the armory, the smell of rusted metals and bronze hitting you in the face quickly. you scrunch your nose in defiance to the smell and continue to look around.

your eyes landing on a spare sword. you reach up for it and pull it down slowly, your eyes landing on the blade. you stare into the reflection of the blade turning it in different angles to distort the sun.

twisting it one way then another and when you turn it to the left, you realise that your reflection is not the only one.

“luke?” you turn quickly out of shock. your head whips around and you jolt forward slightly getting a small freight.

“hi.” he says deadpanningly, his eyes are wide yet something was behind them. luke’s eyes did not look like his own today.

he looks like he was longing for something, a small twinge of regret hidden beneath his brown irises. regret and anguish.

you face him, a hand wiping over your forehead. “when did you get there?”. your eyes trail back down to the blade in your hands and your fingers run along the edge collecting dust along the pads of your pointer and thumb.

you let out a comforting breath and walk towards him, “seriously you almost gave me a heart attack” wiping the dirt from the sword onto your orange shirt. clouds cover the sun in the sky for a moment and the sunlight in the room dims as you look up at him trying to piece together the puzzle of his expression.

“go on a walk with me? i need to tell you something” luke musters out quickly, his hand whipping out to grab onto your arm. the squeeze he gives your bicep is a begging one, a begging cry for you to please say yes.

it’d be a lie if i said you didn’t have butterflies in your stomach right now. luke has something to tell you, alone. the kaleidoscope of butterflies (yes thats what a group of butterflies is called i googled it) flutter around hopelessly in the pit of your stomach and a light blush appears on your cheeks.

you give him a soft nod and purse your lips together before verbally agreeing, “alright..”

you’re the one that leads luke into the forest, a small talk conversation happening between the two of you. usually he’d be talkative and engaged in the moment but the way his jaw clenches and his muscles tense you can tell something is not right.

you and luke walk silently next to eachother into the dense forested area of camp half blood. the sword in your hand swishing at bushes beside you. you spare him a few glances before turning away.

you like luke castellan, honestly it was hard not to. he was helpful, he was kind, he was thoughtful and oh gods was he a sight to see. your eyes trail from the ground infront of you to the blade in your hand and then to luke only to find he was already looking at you.

“why’re you looking at me like that castellan?” you laugh it off softly hiding your bashful expression from him as you look to your feet. luke stops walking, his hand wrapping around your arm as he stops you too. he tugs you back gently his eyes conflicted.

luke’s eyes bore into yours and his mouth opens to speak but he seems doubtful for a moment. he steps towards you, the proximity between you and him closing.

lukes hand raises to touch your cheek but he hesitates.

he had never hesitated to touch you, to embrace you, to laugh with you. why now was he?

you and luke had been tightly knit ever since he came to camp. you were young when you were brought into camp, 3 years old. your mother had not enough resources to bare a child and in a plead of desperation your father had appeared to take you to camp. luke and you were the same age when he came to camp and the two of you caught on quite quickly, all a bit too well.

luke and you had this sort of push and pull relationship, you liked eachother but you weren’t in the most ideal place to date.

yeah sure, maybe you two would sneak out far past curfew ans swim in the lake together and perchance you two shared a kiss under the warm moonlight, his hands wrapped tightly around you as your own reach to his cheeks but no you two weren’t offical.

you were friends, right?

-

“whats up?” you look up at luke puzzled at his uncertain movements and his darting eyes. you catch his hand in your own before it could drop to his side. luke gulps silently, and he speaks.

“join me, love.” he rasps, a pleading almost hungry eyes on you.

“what?”

“j-“ he stutters his eyes becoming more erratic like he was itching to tell you he needed you.

“join me, the gods have failed us my love, join me and kronos.” luke’s hands grab onto your arms clutching at them tightly.

your hands however harden around the hilt of your blade as your eyes search his. “luke what the fuck are you saying?” you laugh out, not because you find it funny.. more because you’re lost, what did he mean?

“the gods have failed us! they have failed their children! they don’t care for us, they just want us to fight their battles!” he exclaims and you thought he was joking at first. joining kronos? the titan lord that ate his kids and was banished to tartarus? THAT kronos?

the moon becomes higher in the sky and the light from the sun fades as he breathes out shakily.

“luke what do you mean failed us?” you shake your head, the expression on your face fading from confused smile to just pure confusion. “luke the god’s where the only people who came for me, who cared for me.” your eyes drift down towards your sword and luke’s eyes follow yours. he notices the way your smile drops and the way confusion laces your tone.

luke takes a step back, his stare stiffening. “no no no, i don’t think you’re understanding what im saying.” he shakes his head now, his eyes going from your eyes to the sword in your hand. “i’m telling you.”

“join me and kronos, i am telling you to.. not asking.”

you’re head tilts and some sort of ache appears inside of you. the boy that you liked, that you loved is joining the army of the most evil and twisted being in tartarus. the boy that you would willingly give your heart to is joining kronos’ army.

you couldn’t wrap your mind around his words. the gods have failed us.

the gods have failed, us. the word ‘us’ in that sentence felt empty. luke knew that his words were a lie. the god’s have never failed you, your dad never failed you. luke knew by the way your eyes looked at him, he knew you would never agree.

“listen to me, i need you.” luke whines and pouts, its like if a switch flicked on in his brain. you take your own step back, you look him up and down. you didn’t see his backbiter sleathed tightly on his hip before. you take a gulp of your own and your eyes focus on his.

luke’s eyes darkened and a smile curls onto his lips, “you know i love you!” he insisted. the way his expressions changed from almost fearful, to demanding, to hungry and then to downright shrewd sent a chill down your spine.

the moon raises higher and higher, you don’t remember how long ago you walked into these woods with luke and gods you didnt even know if you’d walk back out. the one thing you did know however was that whatever luke was suggesting now, you’d never give into it.

“is this a joke? it has to be.” you let out a puzzled breath that you didn’t even register you were holding. the trees rustle against a gust of warmer wind and you furrow your eyebrows at luke. “join kronos? luke are you serious?” your voice comes out sounding more sour than intended.

“what? are you saying that the gods didn’t fail me? that my father does care?” luke’s voice raises, “you- !” his voice stops abruptly with a scoff, he was trying to hit you hard with a line like your dad doesnt care either! but oh boy would he be wrong. the way his face contorts and his fists clench you can tell he’s thinking harshly about something.

he let’s out a sigh and his irises dart quickly as he tries to think up something.

“darling, please. i need you. we can run away together, we can rule! we don’t need to be confined by the gates and the prophecies here! we can make our own, we can rule olympus, join me. it’s the only way.”

“luke you know that isn’t true,” you try and reason with him and your voice softens. it didn’t have to be like this, he didn’t have to be like this. “luke c’mon. talk to me. you don’t have to do this.” you go to take a step forward to touch him but his eyes meet yours in a sickly bitter glare.

his hand bolts to his sword and he reaches out pushing you to the ground, the point of the backbiter flush against your neck. the blade gleams in the moonlight, his reflection shining in the bronze.

“luke what is this?!” you breathe out shakily, your own sword trapped between the dirt and your hand.

“i’m sorry-“ he grieved down at you. “you weren’t listening to me.” luke runs his free hand through his brown curls.

“you need to come with me.” he presses the sword closer to your asophagus, “you are coming with me.”

the stars shine quietly down at the both of you. his heart broke a little by the way you looked at him. no butterflies present in your stomach. the only thing left were hollow cocoons of the once fluttering fleet of love.

“what happened to you luke?” your eyes squint at him holding back the tears that were threatening to fall down your cheeks and you tremble softly trying to understand what the fuck is going on. “we were so good to you.” your head shakes in disbelief. “luke i love you.”

his lip trembles and his eyebrows quiver at your words, he didn’t want this. he didn’t want to hurt you, luke tried to stop. he tried to supress the voice in his dreams egging him on, telling him that the gods were the evil ones. but the promise of letting you and him live on a beach house just like you mentioned was too good to pass up.

the more he gave in and the more he listened, the promises and the wishes became faded, the need to destroy the gods and to get back at his dad became irresistable. he had forgotten the most important thing, you.

in this moment he tried to convince himself that this was what needed to happen, luke needed to protect you. he needed to bring you with him and he needed you to trust him but the way your eyes scrutinized him tore his flesh from his bones and his heart right out.

before he could withdrawl the blade from your neck group of voices barked out from within the trees.

i saw them go this way!

quick! find them!

“come with me please. we don’t need the gods, my love. we need eachother! dionysus doesn’t love you like i do, i’ll always love you but once you leave camp you’ll become like all the rest of his children; forgotten.” luke blurts out demandingly and worriedly.

“forgotten?” anger grows on your face and luke knows he fucked up. yeah you didn’t inherit your dad’s eyes but gods, did you inherit his temper.

“i love you.” luke chants over and over his voice becoming more pleading but the more he says it the less he looks like he means it.

“me or kronos luke?” you grit out angrily and you observe as his face drops. as his eyes widen and look around nervously. you repeat your question and you’re shoulders tense, anger building up quickly.

the footsteps of campers near the two of you and the lights from their torches grow bigger and the calls of your name become more clear as they near. the concerned voices of your brother’s increasing in volume as luke stares at you in silence.

he looks to the lights of campers and back to you. luke opens his mouth to say something, the grip on the hilt of his sword slipping but he is quick to tighten it again.

luke turns on his heel and pushes off it attempting his escape, your own eyelids widen now and your jaw clenches. you reach out trying to pull him back, stupidly you grab the blade of his sword causing you to cut yourself. you bite back a pained groan and you give him a filthy glare as you clutch back your hand.

“coward!” you yell out, “fucking come back here!” you pull yourself up. before you could chase after him a hand grabs your shoulder.

your father peers down at you worry prominent on his eyes and he pulls you in tightly. “you kids,” he sighs into your hair lovingly and he squeezes you close “what am i going to do.” he whispers anxiously.

-

you’re sat around the table at the big house, your palm was attended to by an apollo kid quickly and your uninjured hand is held tightly by your brother, castor.

“luke is the lightning thief.” chiron grits out, his hine leg stomping.

you’re mind wanders off as you lose your focus on the conversation.

lukes words ran around your mind, ‘join me’, ‘you will be forgotten’, ‘i love you.’

you didn’t believe a word he said.

your lip trembles and your eyes close tightly stopping the tears from cascading down your face.

luke was the boy that would lean down to kiss your hands, the boy to smile at you so sweetly, the boy that would follow you into the dark. the way he looked at you so sourly and the way he gritted out his words.

that wasnt the luke you fell inlove with, that luke is gone. that luke packed up his things and took your heart with him.

and you’d be dammed to let him keep it.

-

@yawneon

[violetdaphne]

percabeth tv show-verse headcanons because middle school me is frothing at the mouth at her fav book series being adapted

when it comes time for offerings, percy does not move. he doesn't move a goddamn muscle, staying put at the poseidon table because, sure, his dad helped him during the quest but that doesn't mean he can forget so easily the shadow that came over luke's face when the older demigod explained how the gods expect their children to burn their own food just for a sliver of attention so percy chooses to just. not move. he sits and eats and ignores the curious glances he gets from other campers when its their turn. so no, he doesn't offer anything to his dad or any other god, even when Mr. D gives him the stink eye but what he does do is spot the glaring mission portion on annabeth's plate from her scraping off her own offering (she sits with him now, at the poseidon table breaking many rules about sitting with your own cabin because she can't stand seeing percy all alone, and, well, he's actually kind of fun to hang around for a seaweed brain), he sees the gaps on her plate and instead of offering anything to his dad he offers his own food to her, insisting when she protests and scoping a portion of his own meal onto her plate the moment he has an opening because he doesn't want her going hungry, not because of athena. it feels a little bit like blasphemy but also achingly devotional so he hides his grin behind a proud smirk and says no take-backies while she just raises her brows amusedly.

percy has developed a scary, uncanny habit that freaks out grover and other campers of being able to tell exactly where annabeth is even when she's wearing the invisibility cap. whether it be during capture the flag, sword training, climbing the lava wall, or just meandering about camp to avoid clarisse, percy just has a sort of annabeth-sense and can point with near complete accuracy where she stands when completely invisible to the naked eye. it becomes a camp favorite spectacle to watch them during games and training, fighting back to back, or against each other, and just how swiftly they move, even when percy can't see his partner. he's not sure how or why he is able to know where she is, but secretly loves how he is the only one able to pick her out in a crowd. percy jokes he has his very own spidey-sense geared toward annabeth but she stares at him blankly, the reference going over her head and he just mentally adds it to the very long list of movies he needs to show her. (he does end up, eventually, showing her spiderman but ends up shutting it off quickly when the sight of the spider biting peter parker send her spiraling)

sometimes, when her cabin is just too loud and her bunkmates are too rambunctious and the noise pulses in her ears and she just wants some peace and fucking quiet for once annabeth will slip her cap on and sneak away from her siblings and most often ends up outside the poseidon cabin, asking percy shyly if he minds if she hides out here for a bit because everywhere else is too loud and too much. she doesn't even get to finish her sentence before percy ushers her in and says she's welcome in his cabin anytime. it suprises her, an athena kid, how much she ends up liking the tranquility and ocean-air scent of the poseidon cabin. there's only a few bunks compared to the many that line the walls of her own cabin, so percy lets her chose one (she chooses the one closest to his own and decidedly doesn't think about what it means) and she finally gets some quiet time for her to read or work on blueprints or whatever else she wants to do. sometimes percy is there, sitting idly with his own craft or book to keep him occupied, and annabeth finds she quite likes these times where she and him can just sit together in a contented peace. it becomes common knowledge at camp that when one can't find annabeth the best place to look is the poseidon cabin, and when that doesn't work just find percy because the two are quickly becoming attached at the hip, much to grover's delighted annoyance.

speaking of grover, he gets first row seats to the developing friendship between the two and he knows, knows that this is it. this right in front of him, the bickering and arguing that can flip to deep understanding and compassion at the flick of a hat is fucking endgame, or the closest to it at just 12 years old. he watches how they work together during capture the flag, so scarily in tune that they are able to more than once outsmart clarisse and the other team. he watches percy practice controlling his powers and water abilities at the shoreline of camp, annabeth just feet away and watching in a poorly hidden awe as he moves the tide and waves with a flick of his wrist. he watches them sneak around after curfew because annabeth wanted to show percy the constellations and the best time to see them is in the dead of night so they brave the harpies and Mr. D's wrath to lay out on the pier of camp to see the stars. he watches them on the quest when annabeth insists he is alive after the arch, watches them hug like he isn't standing right there and the relief is palpable, and he just. knows. its so obvious and he loves to claim, years later, that he knew first.

the ocean and water and all its inhabitants are all extensions of percy, right? they're all in poseidon's, and therefore percy's domain so its only natural for them follow in his lead when he's around. therefore, its only natural for the water and it's grace to treat annabeth with the same respect it treats their demigod. percy makes sure of it, if inadvertently, chiding the tide to be careful and warning the waves to not chill her. and the kicker? he doesn't even realize he's doing it until annabeth mentions offhand that the water during her canoe lesson at camp was particularly and oddly calm when everyone else's was rough and choppy. he blushes so bad she offers to take him to the infirmary, which evidently only makes him flush harder.

poseidon realizes it too, of course, the ocean is primarily his domain and he knows well what's going on in every inch of it, so he senses immediately how percy is growing into his powers, exercising his control over the sea and growing more powerful day by day, and how it all seems to center around a certain athena kid. he rubs it in athena's face, the growing friendship between their kids, but find himself getting really quiet when she sends her owl after his eyes.

luke calls them an old married couple and they hate how right he is, and how they keep accidently proving him right. they argue over the littlest of things; the best type of jam to put on toast at breakfast, the pronunciation of greek words and monsters, the best way for percy to take care of his curls, anything and everything they will find something to bicker over until grover or whoever is with them just stares until the argument peters out and they move on to the next subject without missing a beat, leaving whoever their unfortunate third wheel is feeling very adrift.

[zan0tix]

Pleaseeee tell me more about that homescryption au

A little something between you and me and everyone else who happens to look at this post. Im working on a lineup for the four scrybes :D

Roxys design is subject to change and you guys have already seen D1rk. Jane and Jake are in progress!!! (Also D1rk and Harley are the names for dirk and jake but weve been struggling to come up with appropriately fantasical/magical names for Jane and Roxy that align with magnificus and grimora😞 Harley feels old-manish enough that it fits in well… im sure well get there but if anybody has ideas feel free to comment ✌️)

But yes i can tell you more!!! ILL PUT IT ALL UNDER THE CUT THIS POST IS GOING TO BE LONG o7

Working with cyrus repliiku to flesh it out x3 he was the one who got me into the game and im CRAZY NOW!!!!

The four alpha scrybes methods of inscribing cards are that Harley uses his magic blunderbuss and the things he shoots become cards, Roxys cards are the fantasical characters she creates in her stories, Jane will be a detective of death, uncovering how cards die and writing up a casefile in her detective agency about them (might give her a magic magnifying glass. Well see), and D1rk were trying to figure out something with Sburbs captcha card + ghost captcha system like how Po3’s cards are printed from real robots

The students/the scrybes underlings are going to be other homestuck characters or splinters!

D1rks will be the robots (aradiabot, arquius (wanted him to me more unique than just brobot + hal so he gets to be a robot) and jadebot.

Harleys will be jake-ish splinters rather than new characters. Thered be the Adventurer (prospector), the Hunter (trapper/trader), the Sailor (angler), the Ectobiologist (mycologists), and the Actor (woodcarver) and his campaigns would be more Action packed like jakes action movies type stuff hehe

Janes will be the dead trolls, nepeta, equius and feferi. Not much to say besides them being dead lol 😭

And roxys were still figuring out but nerm. Viceroy/Casey, Rose (maybe goobert but they are actually nice and kind to her) and Eridan….(lonely wizard he was banished to the shadow realm for being annoying 😁👍)

Luke Carter is going to be Calliope and Satan in the greater scheme of the daniel mullins-verse will be Caliborn/Lord English because i think itd be very funny for him to just. Be making video games and thats his evil plot. LOL and Sado would be Gamzee. (Will not expand to pony island or the hex this is just clearing up the ending of inscryption)

Kaycee would probably be Aranea but like just some normal girl. Not all that sure abt the OLD_DATA tho ??? Maybe just all the wrong doings Lord English has committed and influenced culminated into the files or the code that brought him into the universe I DUNNO.

Retconning the drawing i did when i first scribbled this AU, i believe when harley turns the other scrybes into preexisting cards d1rk would become a seagull (kingfisher replacement) roxy would become a jaguar (wolf replacement) and jane would become a jackalope (pronghorn replacement) 😁

And the way harley would be defeated would be using his blunderbuss on him with a special bullet instead of film. Po3’s decapitation fulfilled the Dirk prophecy too LOL

I think that of the gameplay/card gimmicks themselves would work basically the same but i might try and come up with more creative homestucky twists on them

Im planning on finishing the designs and making sprites and more mockup screenshots :3

I might write up or draw a comprehensive ref sheet for this au someday but for now heres what weve jotted down 👍

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Last Man On Earth (Aemond Targaryen x reader)

Summary: No one told King Aemond about the Song of Ice and Fire. As the daughter of Rhaenyra, you have one last mission left.

Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of sex, smut, toxic dynamics. Misuse of biblical verses

A/N: I'm about to make so many people angry.

And to the woman, the Father said:

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;

with painful labor you will give birth to children.

Your desire will be for your husband,

and he will rule over you.”

(The Father's Book. 4:22-26)

The letters stopped getting there on your eight and ten name day. Childishly, you waited a few more weeks, telling yourself it must be only a delay. Perhaps the war that went on, or the weather, had detained the ship that carried it. Perhaps your mother had simply forgotten. But deep down, you knew something had to have happened. Rhaenyra Targaryen was not a good woman, perhaps even not a good mother. But she had always remembered your name days.

Your brain refused to believe it, but you knew, deep in your gut, that it was not a mere delay. You had mourned too much already to deceive yourself. Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Daemon, Helaena… The time spent in the Free Cities had served you well, when it came to learning the deep pang of sadness.

First, it had been the death of Luke. Your beloved twin. Then, the loss of your home. Vanished from Dragonstone by your mother, to keep safe. After that, the separation from your half brothers, by then mere babes. It was best, not knowing where they were. If you were captured, it wouldn’t mean the end of Rhaenyra’s line.

Despite the eagerness displayed by both your mother and Daemon to get you out of the Seven Kingdoms, no one had come looking for you very hard. Every once in a while, an overzealous sell sword got lucky, and you had to relocate, yet the occasions seemed to become further and further apart. No one cared enough to keep looking for the only Targaryen unable to claim a dragon, after all these years.

But at the beginning, you had survived on a network of favors. A chain, if you will, set up by your stepfather. First, it had been that friend of his in Pentos, where you posed as his niece, a dark haired, brown-eyed thing no one actually believed came from such a man. Then, you were the daughter of a courtesan in Lys, recently reunited with your mother and with aspirations of becoming a priestess. After that, you had been the cousin of some Lord in Volantis, then a Septa in training in some forgotten convent in Myr. And so on it went. You had perfected the art of shedding names and titles as if they were an old dress. Yet you never claimed to be Valyrian.

Most would think it had been your lack of dragon, the reason for being sent away. It would even be used as an argument against Rhaenyra, in the years to come, “Isn’t she so progressive? But she sent her daughter away because deep down she knows women are not meant for war.” Others would say it was your nature, a meek and shy thing that always faded in the background when your outspoken brothers and cousins were around.

No one would ever guess the real reason. It would mean giving much credit to Rhaenyra Targaryen, the whore. She had realized, a long time ago, that war was brewing. Rhaenyra, much like you, tried lying to herself. But she knew it, deep down. So, when the time came, for her to prepare her heir, the Princess didn’t tell the secret to just Jacaerys. She told Luke and you.

An heir. A spare. A safeguard. And so, you were sent away. When the letter didn’t come, you realized your mission just started. A painfully long journey, hours in the sea. You would think, with how much you had traveled, you would have gotten your sea legs by now. But it seemed even the sea knew the truth about you.

Normally, a Princess would travel with a retinue. Or at least, if she insisted on the lack of formality, her sworn shield. You had not the funds, nor the need for it, anymore. You had left King’s Landing a girl and returned a woman. In your common cloak, and with your dark hair, no one would have ever mistaken you for a Princess.

The ship docked early in the morning, King’s Landing not yet awake. It was a merchant’s ship, filled with spices and a few other passengers. You disembarked in silence, taking in the surrounding city. It shook you to your core. These were not the streets you remembered, filled with people preparing for war. Nor were these the streets your mother talked about, when she reminisced the time when she and Daemon had fallen in love for the first time.

The city was dirty. The stench was much worse than you remembered, and quite different from other capitals you had visited. It smelt coppery and rotten, as if of old blood. At the gates, there was a head on a spike, a cloud of flies so great surrounding it that you had to bat them away to walk.

Silver hair, no eyes, the softest hint of a quirk in the mouth among the rotting flesh. The same one that you often see in the mirror. It was a head you knew well. It was your mother’s.

You tried hard not to gag, and walked past it at a breakneck speed. Careful not to stare. A woman feeling faint at the sight was expected. A woman falling to her knees and bawling her eyes out was treason.

It was hard, after that, to want to help Aegon. The pig had no redeeming qualities. He had been a bad husband to your aunt, an awful commander and a drunk. You had no doubt now he was going to be a poor King. There was, of course, the fact that he had killed your mother and not even granted her the kindness of a Valyrian funeral.

Still, you had to. You had to because the last time you had heard your mother’s voice, you had promised to. Promised that if you ever were captured, the firsts words that you would utter would be those, and not a plea to the Greens for mercy. You wiped at your eyes, harshly brushing the tears away, and put one foot in front of the other. A step. Another. Easier each time.

“This is bigger than we.” Your mother had said, the night you were to depart. Cloaked by the night, a ship was set to sail towards Pentos. Only a cargo of sheep, it declared at the port. Of sheep and a tiny princess, scared out of her mind. “No matter…” She had choked up, the death of your twin still fresh on her mind. In yours. Luke. Your other half, now gone. The possibility of losing the war, before not even a thought on your mind, now a reality. The first loss of many, even if you didn’t know it then. “Aegon’s dream. No matter who wins, in the end. You have to pass it on.”

“You will win, mother.” You had replied, brushing your own tears away. You didn’t know, that evening, that you would see her again, nearly in the same place, lifeless and empty - eyed. “You have to.”

“Oh, my dragon. My sweet dragon.” Rhaenyra had cradled your face in her hands, placing one last kiss to your forehead. “Promise me. You will help them if I die. You will tell. Because it is not about who sits on the Iron Throne now, but when the Song of Ice and Fire will come to pass.”

“Mother…” A sob broke out your throat. “Mother, I can’t. Don’t ask me to betray you like that, not when…”

“You will. You are my daughter. My only daughter. The strongest out of your siblings because you are a Targaryen, but you are also a woman. Your body was made for pain, your spirit to remain unbroken. Remind that, daughter.”

Your ship had sailed away, the figure of your mother getting smaller and smaller on the horizon. But the duty remained at the forefront of your mind for the years to come. And you intended to fulfill it. No matter what.

The state of disarray King’s Landing was in made it easy to sneak into the Keep. Among the mass of beggars and injured, no one noticed a girl making her way through the streets. You snuck in, using a passage Jace had written you about a long time ago. You got in, your presence unknown to the sleeping servants and barely awake guards.

Perhaps it was the fact that it had been Jace, who had taught you how to get in like that. Or maybe it was just a sudden fit of nostalgia. But with the sky barely pink, the Keep strangely empty, you figured there was no danger in visiting the courtyard.

The servants and the Kingsguard had not yet risen. Too early for even the lowliest of servants. Without a second thought, you lowered your hood. The space was vacant, you had dark hair and a common cloak. No one would notice you if you kept your eyes lowered.

The space looked odd, without the sparring men and the flock of admiring ladies. Still, it looked smaller than you remembered. That thought triggered a memory. Jace. Jace had said the same thing, and then he had turned and…

You walked a few steps and pressed your hand to the mark on the wall, eyes closing. A tiny sob escaped you. It was still there. So much had changed, yet the mark on the wall remained. You could picture him, clear as day, hair windswept, eyes sparkling with wonder. Slightly younger than you, sweet. Warm. Yet your hand only found cold stone.

Lost in those thoughts, you didn’t notice the light footsteps approaching you. You only did, when a familiar voice spoke, a heavy hand falling on your shoulder.

“And who…” Before you even had a chance to try to flee, your uncle, the man that you hated the most, was turning you around. Aemond. Now, nothing in your life has been easy. That was probably why you should have expected the first member of the Greens you would encounter to be him. “…Niece?”

Slowly, as not to startle him, you lifted your hands, pushing your hair back, so he could get a good look at your face. You drank him in, familiar, yet so foreign. He no longer wore the eye patch, but the sapphire eye and the scar were as prominent as ever. Responsible for the death of your twin and stepfather, and turned a formidable commander by the end of the war, having been humbled by defeat. Too many, dead by his hand.

Aemond looked startled at the sight, as if he was looking into the eyes of a ghost. His face paled, lips stretching into a tense grimace before the mask fell back into place.

“What are you doing here?”

"Uncle Aemond." You lowered your head, feeling clueless about what to say. Here’s the man you have nightmares about. Here’s the face that haunts him so. "How have you been?"

"I had better days.” Aemond took your hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow. His eye glittered dangerously, madly. “Walk with me.”

The years had done him good. That much was clear. He had now the look of a man who was used to getting his way, to never being told no. You wondered if sleep proved so elusive to him as it did to you now.

There was almost a pained expression on his face, all sharp angles, that the soft light of sunrise did nothing to light up. Aemond was skinnier than you remembered, taut muscles and dark circles under his eyes adding to his handsomeness. Your uncle had always looked otherworldly, fae like, but now, he looked barely human. Targaryens had always been closer to gods than men, Daemon had used to say. It had never resonated with you in the way it did now.

“You put me into quite the conundrum.” Aemond said, walking you towards the gardens, pace unhurried. He barely dared look at you. You figured, for him, it was more painful. Lucerys must wander his dreams in the same way it did yours, yet you had grown accustomed to seeing the face looking at you in the mirror.

For Aemond, it must be his personal haunting, seeing in you what Luke could have been, had he not cut his thread so early on. You had played that game enough. So many afternoons spent in front of a mirror, watching your reflection get further and further away from what Lucerys had been. So many, thinking that your face was blurring his.

Here’s a secret. Losing a twin is like having a severed limb. An extension of yourself you took for granted and are not, ever, getting back.

Just as you are, Aemond is gathering himself. So, you wait the silence out. You don’t notice the two guards falling into step behind you, when you pass a more transited hallway.

“What is it that you seek? Surely, you don’t intend to rally an army.” He finally asks, and it comes out wrong. Short. Clipped. But not hateful, in the way it used to be, when he crowed Lady Strong in your ear. It feels wrong. Calculated. Like a dragon playing with its food.

“No, Kepa.” You muttered, words sweet, hoping High Valyrian would soothe him. There is something in you telling you to run. Pure, raw instinct, the one we all have. When you see a predator, you run and don’t look back.

Aemond turned towards you, and raised your hood, placing it tenderly over your head. The touch a parent would give to a child. You closed your eyes, delighting in the softness of the touch. You would despise yourself for it later, thinking you had encouraged him. But right now, it has been so long since someone with your same blood touched you. Someone who shares your eyes. For a second, the familiarity makes you think of better days, when both of you were children and Jace and Aegon and him ran around these same halls.

“If you go now, I won’t chase you, little niece. Too much blood has already been spilled for me to wear the Conqueror’s crown. I do not know what prompted you to come here, but I can…” But whatever he was going to say, it was nothing more but static in your ears. You felt like one of the dolls your mother gifted you when you were a child. Head full of wool, limbs weak as if made from string.

His mouth kept moving, lips forming words in a distance. Yet you didn’t hear. Your mind could only fixate on one thing. You stumbled, feet getting tangled in the edge of your dress and cloak, or maybe you were just dizzy with shock. At your sudden move, Aemond’s grip tightened against your arm.

“Niece. Niece.” He muttered urgently, pulling you outwards with such force it would bruise. “You didn’t know, I take it.”

“I didn’t know, Ke… Your Grace.” You dropped into a hurried curtsy, pulse beating loudly in your ears. Your body felt like it was on fire. It explained the changes in him. It made sense, despite your reluctance. Aemond wore the crown well.

“What did you think, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond chuckled, humorlessly, pulling you to your feet. “So it wasn’t defiance, but ignorance. Hardly a worse sin.”

“I thought… Aegon, or his children…” You trailed off, realizing what it actually meant. If Aegon was not wearing the crown his family had fought so hard to place on his head…

“Dead. Aegon killed your mother, but not before she gutted him like a pig.” Aemond shook his head, seemingly unaffected by the topic of discussion. “His hubris killed him, more than Rhaenyra. He dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but didn’t count on her being the truest of them two.” Then, as if realizing what he said, he fell silent. Remembering the time he too had dared set a dragon against a Targaryen, but won.

“Experience always trumps, does it not, Your Grace?” You regretted the jab the moment it left your mouth. Aemond let go of your arm, angrily pushing you away. His hand went to his belt. You looked at the sword, hanging there, and felt the urge to retch. Dark Sister. Not only had he killed Daemon, he had taken his sword as a souvenir.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” He said, purple eye burning with anger. His frame towered over you, yet you didn’t flinch. You were the blood of the dragon, as much as he was. More so. Stronger, with an iron will. Because you were half Targaryen, but you were a Targaryen woman. “The blood of Rhaenyra lives on you, contesting my claim to the throne. Despite it, you have marched into my hands willingly. The Seven know with what purpose, byka tolīmorghon. Do you have a death wish?”

“How many dead, Kepa? How many of us left?” You needed to know. Needed because it was essential to your task. No matter how much it hurt.

“None of yours.” Aemond said, and you covered your mouth with your hand, choking back a sob. “None of mine, either. Mother and Helaena… Neither could take it. I rule over ash and bones. The great houses, diminished beyond belief. The dragons… I rue spilling your blood, niece. 'Tis the source of my conflict.”

“I came here to tell you a secret.” You blurt out, before he gets second thoughts. Your eyes keep watch of his sword arm, just because his hand is too close to his belt. It’s not because it makes it easier, not looking at him. At all.

Aemond listens to your story in silence. You tell him all you know, from the blade your mother had said still exists, to the belief your Grandfather and her had in the dream. How he needs heirs, desperately. Anyone, as long as it is his blood.

“I had suspected.” He finally says, shoulders dropping. Aemond looks exhausted. You wonder exactly how heavy the crown is on his head, how much of a burden it is to try to rebuild a country that has been through a civil war and a conquest in less than fifty years. The coffers must be empty, and he speaks of no nobles to tax. To do so on his own… You would go mad. Perhaps he is, already. Too much blood and the latent Targaryen madness, always ready to pounce. It had taken your mother, too.

But there is no one else to rule. You don’t voice those thoughts. You just stare at him, waiting to be dismissed.

“There is no written mention of it, of course. Or else either your stepfather or I would have found out. I have read every book on our history I could get my hands into. I bet Daemon did, too.” And he speaks of it so casually, too. You want to slap him. You can’t. To do so it’s treason. Instead, you curtsy at him, intent on being dismissed, even if you have to prompt him.

He glares. He does not speak a word. You risk a look at his face. Aemond is angrier than you have ever seen. And it’s nothing like it was before the war. It’s a cold thing. A quiet anger, that twists his face into something that reminds you of the portraits of Maegor the Cruel. You take a step back. Then another. Somehow, you know, he will not let you leave these gardens alive. You still try.

“You are the same as your mother.” Aemond said, quietly. You stop, dead in your tracks. “Just as irresponsible.”

“Excuse me?”

“You came here, to drop your mess in my lap, and now you intend to leave?” His hand grips at your wrist, painfully tight. Tight enough to bruise. Aemond snarls, baring his teeth.

“What do you want, Your Grace?” Your tone comes out pleading. Scared. Like a dog showing his belly to a more dominant one. You hate it. “Let me go.”

“You think I will let you leave, byka tolīmorghon?” Aemond laughs. It sounds… Ugly to hear, all twisted. It holds no humor, only disdain. For the poor, silly little girl who thought she could get away.

“Are you going to kill me?” You take another step back, shrugging off his grip. Someone unsheathes his sword. Startled, your eyes are drawn to the source of the noise. And when his guards started to approach? They are cornering you. You have one on the left and Aemond is taking the right. Your back hits the wall.

“No, you won’t walk away that easily. You are staying, niece.” Aemond pressed closer, cornering you even more. Here was a man pushed past his limits, his eye seemed to say. A sudden thought crossed your mind. He was the King. But there was no mention of a Queen.

“I… No. No, uncle. Let me go, now.” You started struggling, dread pooling in your stomach. Surely, you had misinterpreted his meaning. He could not, not when he prided himself on being a trueborn Targaryen.

Aemond merely smirked. It was clear he had noticed, by your increased panic, that you finally understood. A slap. Skin against skin, both of his hands trapping your wrists now. The sound, so loud to you, so similar to the closing of cuffs. He couldn’t. Not with how much he scoffed at your bastard, dirty blood.

“You have Targaryen’s blood. And I need a wife. Kind. Sweet. Pure.” His grip shifted, now holding both of your wrists in one hand. With the other, he pulled you close. You didn’t resist. You just looked at him, helpless. The guards, probably used to seeing much worse from their King, didn’t even flinch. “Strong. To be queen, to give me many heirs.” Aemond nuzzled the top of your hair, hands coming to grasp at your waist, hugging you against him.

“You are insane.” You tried to shrug him off, aware that if you kicked or pushed him too hard, he could have you charged with treason and put to the sword. You didn’t dare fight him in earnest and he knew it. Trapped. He had you cornered.

“Maybe. Maybe. But you are staying. And you know it.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, and you shrieked, as if your skin was crawling at his touch. It was not. You hated it. He was warm and hugging you, and you hadn’t been comforted in so long. None of the guards tried to help you. They didn’t even glance at you.

“That’s not… You can’t, Your Grace, please.”

“You could have sent a raven. Or a pageboy. Yet here you are, pretty little tolīmorghon. Mine to ruin. You will marry me.” You understood, then, what he meant to do. Aemond didn’t even like you. He was going to break you. Just as he was, shouldering the same weight you had tried to push on him.

Aemond was as tortured as he was dutiful. He wanted to drag you into his hell, too. Because it had been unfair, in his eye, that so many of your family had escaped responsibility by death. He was not giving you the chance to do the same.

“Uncle…” You begged, starting to tear up. Aemond released you, roughly. He gestured to a guard, who wordlessly slid into step besides you.

“Go change, niece. That is not proper attire for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” And with a little shove, you were made to march towards your old chambers by his guards.

The Mother blessed them and said to them,

“Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”

(The Smith's book. 1:32-36)

“Your Grace.” The maid said, becoming him over. Aemond rose from his seat immediately at the sight of her. Corlys, his hand, remained unbothered and nodded in approval. He, too, felt this matter was more important. Ambition. The death of many good men.

“Ah, Margaret. Has the Queen finally worn herself out?” Aemond asked her, noticing her slightly concerned expression. He wasn’t too worried. No dragon liked chains. A bit of destruction was expected from your sudden captivity.

“Your Grace, I don't think she is fine.” The maid whispered, worriedly.

“Did she hurt herself?” Corlys asked, plainly. Aemond knew he was not truly interested in your condition. You two had no contact, since you were sent out of the Seven Kingdoms, and there was no family resemblance. He only cared that you were able to sit on the throne next to Aemond. And it was fine by him. Corlys could look out for the Velaryon last name, Aemond would look out for you.

“No, she's… sitting there.”

“Crying her eyes out?” Aemond nearly snorted at the question. It was clear your alleged grandfather didn’t know you.

“Staring blankly at the walls.” The maid answered, and at that, Aemond grew slightly concerned. You must be planning something. Better be on guard.

“It's a good sign. She has calmed down.” And as Corlys reassured the maid, Aemond left the room, walking towards your chambers. He made sure to only leave his sword behind, carrying instead a dagger. Least you got ideas. He didn’t fully trust you yet. Slowly, he opened the door, surprised by the amount of destruction you had caused in such a short amount of time.

“What a tantrum, niece.” Aemond spoke, softly, eyeing the torn curtains you had knotted together and were in the process of throwing down the window. The bed was sheetless, you had clearly used those too for your makeshift rope.

“Back off or I will jump.” You warned, still busy with your rope. Aemond shook his head.

“Now, I would say throwing down the table and chairs was overkill. You have frightened your maid.” He slowly advanced, unbuckling his belt. You glared.

“Don’t you dare!”

Aemond nearly laughed. He was the King and here were you, a tiny slip of a girl, trying to tell him what to do. Your eyes darted nervously towards the window. He knew as well what you were thinking. It was a big fall.

“Helaena jumped out of one of those.” He got even closer, and tugged the makeshift rope out of your hands. You let go of it easily, too distressed to really think. “I’ll not make the same mistake as Aegon.”

He would not. You were not escaping this. It must be fate, what else? Out of all the people, you were the secret keeper. Sister to Lucerys. The last of your line. Aemond was the last of his, too. The two last true Targaryens, out of all.

Aemond liked the symmetry of it all, he had realized. There was something about it being the death of your twin what started the war, and your marriage ending once for all the division in the Kingdoms. Life and death, both by his hands. You would eventually give him a son. He was no dreamer, but he could feel it. And when his son finally took the throne, a perfect mix of Greens and Blacks, all wounds would be healed. That would be Aemond’s legacy. Finally mending things.

It was not all, though. It was a form of penance, too. A way of never letting him forget, through the rot of it all, that it had all been his fault. In his mind’s eye, he could see you growing older, next to him. And for every line that appeared on your face or neck, Aemond would wonder if that’s how Lucerys would have looked.

Aemond moved even closer. You slapped him, uncaring of the consequences. What a fierce little thing you had grown into. Hot headed. Not very queenly. Aemond pursed his lips and shook his head, taking the slap without complaint. You were entitled to your rage, having the moral high ground. Your hands were not stained like his. But he couldn’t stand for you escaping. He needed you.

So when you tried to duck around him, Aemond pounced. It was not that he was very convinced of the dream. He had a distaste for dreamers, even if Helaena had been one. They often spoke in riddles, never saying what they meant. For all you knew, Aegon’s dream could have been a metaphor for some other event and not a great threat. But you were his path to redemption.

So many nights he had spent on his knees, at the beginning of the war. Praying for a sign, or a chance to fix things. To fix what he had broken. Along the way, he had lost faith. Perhaps the Seven didn’t listen to him, for his soul was already tainted. Perhaps, all the death around him was a punishment for all his faults. And then you showed up. His byka tolīmorghon. His little ghost.

What was he supposed to think, besides that you were the answer to his prayers? After all, he had been favored by the Gods, or so everyone said. It was the Seven, who gave him the Iron Throne. It was his godly given right to rule. Surely, your return was a sign.

You didn’t even make it to the door. Aemond grabbed you by the hair, dark strands curling around his fingers as if rings. How fitting.

You were shrieking something, but he was not really paying attention. It was probably a cry for mercy or insults. He was not too worried about it. Aemond was more concerned about restraining you, else you try to hurt yourself. You had little to lose, after all, and were stubborn enough for it. Oh, he could feel the headache starting.

He needed you. And you thought you needed him. It was easier than it looked. You two could collaborate. The Seven knew he required all the help he could get, with ruling a country that was more ashes and corpses than real people. You could not exactly get Targaryen heirs without a Targaryen husband, and apart from the lost babes, there was simply no one else around.

“Why must you vex me so, tolīmorghon?” Aemond marched you toward the vanity, dragging you by the hair. He threw everything that was on top of it away with a dismissive gesture, and slammed your chest down on it, careful not to slam your head in the process. “You always make everything difficult.”

His grip shifted, from your hair to the back of your neck, making sure to keep you down. You whimpered. The slam had clearly scared you. Good, Aemond thought. Perhaps a little fear would make you listen.

With ruthless efficiency, he had tugged your wrists behind your back, kicking your legs open without a second thought. Tying his belt around your wrists had been easier, once you started to cry. It was clear the consequences of your actions were starting to sink in and that you had no much fight left.

“Not so eloquent now, niece?” Aemond couldn’t resist but taunt, pulling you to your feet. The motions were practiced. He tried not to think from where he had acquired that knowledge.

“Fuck you, kinslayer.” You screamed. Aemond laughed. It seemed you had fight left, then. A shame the insult was not very good. The moniker didn’t hold the weight it once had, after the war. Half of the Targaryens had turned into kinslayers by the end of it.

“Oh, if you only knew.” He grabbed a handkerchief from the floor, no doubt one of the ones that had fallen from his purge of the vanity, and held it in front of your face. “Open up.” He demanded.

You glared and turned your head away. Aemond pinched at your nose. You, ridiculous little thing, held your breath until you started to go red. There were tears on your cheeks, and your lips were turning an alarming shade of purple. Aemond idly wondered if it was from the lack of air or how hard you were pressing them together.

“You do realize you either open up or you pass out, and I gag you anyway, right?” He arched an eyebrow.

You opened up, finally, spluttering and coughing. A shame he stuck the cloth inside your mouth just then.

“Now.” Aemond ordered, full of the confidence only ruling could give. “I will speak and you will listen. Do you understand?”

The cloth muffled your scream.

Women. So tiresome. Aemond rolled his eye, waiting until you tired of the dramatics. Your stubbornness was admirable, in truth. Like a carriage wreck, he couldn’t stop looking at how you worked yourself up. You were both screaming and bawling your eyes out at the same time. After a few minutes of ceaseless struggle, you slumped down, sweaty from the exertion.

“You will bathe after this, of course. I can’t have the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms walking around like that.” He finally offered, amused. “I will not hurt you, little fool. This marriage will help unite the Kingdoms again.”

You stared blankly. Aemond nodded, guessing it was a bit unfair to wait for your input.

“You see. There is still division between Blacks and Green. Were you able to produce a child, both claims would rally behind him.”

This time, you seemed slightly more frightening. Probably at the prospect of laying with him, which, fair. He had not had such a good first experience either, and it had taken him quite a long time with Alys to even try again. Aemond guessed it was likely more frightening, as a woman. It didn’t matter whether your body responded or not, it was happening anyway.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, softly, and grabbed at another handkerchief to clean your face. He kneeled in front of you, despite your panicked attempts to pull back, and softly dabbed at your wet cheeks. “I think two years is a prudent time to get you to give yourself up to me. I would give you a lifetime if I could. But we are not getting any younger, and I need an heir.”

You tilted your head to the side, as if questioning. You were rather puppy-like. It reminded him of your twin even more. Aemond gave you a sad smile.

“You were insistent on getting heirs made, if I understood correctly. I think we can manage to raise children that will not slaughter each other.”

A scoff. Aemond wiped the drool from the corners of your mouth next. Quite undignified, really. Oh, if his mother was watching him from above, she would be laughing at his expense. He had had to learn the art of cooperation the hard way, but it had proved fruitful in getting his ends. Much more than all the anger he held in his youth.

“How hard can it be?”

Your glare was his only answer. Aemond knew he was slowly getting through you. Perhaps a little more kindness? Empathy? What a foreign thing. He had not exercised that much, in the last few years. Ruthlessness was what had given him the throne. But he was willing to try, to get what he wanted.

“You have a point there. Well. I will not treat you badly. I will be a kind husband to you. You will rule by my side.”

This time, your look shifted from distrust to disbelief.

“Funny thing, isn’t it? Neither of us were meant to get the throne, yet…” Aemond shook his head, and softened his tone. He knew just the words to make you budge. “I need your help, if we are going to pull this off. You must truly believe in that dream, if you risked coming here.”

A nod. He had you. Aemond tried not to smirk, knowing it could undo all his work at gaining your collaboration.

“Can I trust our agreement, then, and take the gag off?”

You nodded again. He pulled the cloth off, careful not to hurt your mouth.

“If you are good, I will untie you next.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a pious man?” It was a curious thing, that that was the first sentence you chose to say. Still, Aemond didn’t want to break the fragile trust that was forming between the two of you, and so he decided to indulge you.

“I’m not certain, anymore.” He answered, carefully. It was the truth. He had been so sure, once, that the Seven guided his steps. That the Crone lit up the right path for him to take, that the Father led him to fair decisions. It had all shattered when the Stranger had entered your lives.

Yet here you were. A gift, from the Maiden herself. A Queen, for a King who had nothing. Much like she had done for Hugor of the Hill.

“Isn’t there something on the Seven Pointed Star about this?”

“There is also something about attempting on one’s own life.” Aemond glared at you, pushing your chin up with a finger to take a good look at your eyes. He was deeply displeased by your threat, even if it was an empty one. It had rattled him, the reminder of Helaena. “Any attempts on your life will be dealt with swiftly.”

Aemond couldn’t lose anyone else. He couldn’t see Luke fall to his death again. Even if it meant locking all the windows in the Keep, and taking away all the knives. Or keeping you tied with silk ropes. Whatever that was necessary.

“You said you wouldn't hurt me.”

“Oh, it won't hurt you. Too much.” And it was the truth. He had learned quite a few interesting methods of discipline, while he traveled to different settlements during the war. Aemond was willing to practice them on you, if it meant you stayed by his side.

And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

(The Mother's book. 12: 22-23)

It was an odd feeling. Getting ready for your wedding in your mother's chambers. Much to the King's displeasure, none of your old gowns fitted you. He had offered to get you new ones, but after seeing that Aemond had kept most of the rooms in the Keep untouched, you had chosen to wear one of your mother's.

It still smelt like her. Entering the room felt like time had stopped. Everything was exactly as it had been, except there was no Rhaenyra sitting on the couch.

You opened the chest of gowns, placing it carefully on the rug. At your back, Ser Willis cleared his throat. With an annoyed noise, you stepped back.

“Do not be angry, my Queen.” The Kingsguard said, as he opened the trunk and efficiently took away all the bottles and pointy objects he could find. “The King does this with your welfare in mind.”

After the incident at your old chambers, you had been moved into Aemond's personal ones. He was never there, after all, being an insomniac and a workaholic. But his had the great advantage of being near the ground floor.

Your behavior had allowed you to graduate from bound wrists and a gag to a constant shadow. Willis Fell had been tasked with your protection from all threats on your life, including yourself.

“I didn't really mean to attempt on my life!” You said, frustrated. “And do not call me Queen, I'm a Princess in my own right.”

“To a claim that no longer exists, your Grace.” The man repeated, cheerfully. “It matters not who you were, but who you are now. If King Aemond says you are to be called Queen, then you are.”

You huffed, angrily, and ignored him, quickly picking two gowns. Aemond had demanded they were in the Blacks' colors and not the Velaryons. It had brought great displeasure to the Lord Hand. Your grandfather had wanted to see you enter the Sept in his colors. He would have to conform with handing you to Aemond.

Corlys Velaryon made you have mixed feelings. On one side, there was the fact that he had changed sides faster than one could change cloaks, after your mother was dead. On the bright side, he was the only ally you had in court. The only person willing to oppose Aemond for your sake.

It was a curious choice, on Aemond's part, to keep him so close. It was a good show of unity and forgiveness, a proof of the noble heart of the King. Or maybe it was because he had control over other, low-level threats to his throne. You had heard Rhaena and Baela had survived the war. They had already confirmed their attendance to the joyous occasion, but you were not allowed to meet them alone. You would have to wait until tonight, when the feast took place, or even tomorrow, at the wedding.

“What do you think, Ser Willis?” You showed the man two gowns, one crimson red and one black. “I do not think black is proper for a wedding, but wearing two crimson gowns seems too much. Perhaps… The black one at the feast?”

"I think this one is a bit…” The knight trailed off, and you looked at it closely. He was right. It was the dress of a matron, too dark-colored for a wedding, too grown up for you. Your mother had worn it the night that your uncle made his toast. Gods, you had all been so young. You remembered how beautiful she had looked in it. “What about the dress your mother wore for her own wedding? It is still there. I saw it.”

You lifted some dresses, searching for a light colored one. A beautiful gown of white and gold, one you had discarded because it didn’t fit the criteria Aemond had set, and its significance was lost on you. You didn’t know that had been your mother’s wedding dress. Rhaenyra at eighteen had been a petite woman. You clutched at it, wondering if it would even fit you. It could probably be adjusted, or copied.

“Thank you, Ser Willis.” It didn’t hurt to be polite with the man. He had been on Aegon’s side, and had been quite outspoken with his disapproval of your mother and Daemon. But he was only doing his job. Aemond was the one who had ordered you not to be left alone at any time. Sometimes, you were grateful for it. It helped ward off your loneliness. Other times, it got suffocating.

“A pleasure, my Queen. The King will not be able to keep his eye off you. A good match, you are.” He offered, smiling at you. You had learned he seemed to thrive on courtly manners.

You gave him a sad smile and passed him the dresses to carry. As you walked, you noticed it was starting to get late.

“May we ask for the maid? Margaret? I wish to change for the feast.” Your guard nodded, and repeated the order to the guard outside Aemond’s chambers.

Margaret was the one that had the duty to guard you when you were doing womanly things. It was a good system, you had to give it to Aemond. He had thought of everything. It gave time for Ser Willis to rest and eat, and it gave you slightly more privacy and a companion.

You despised his thoughtfulness. You didn’t want to like him. He had murdered your twin, after all. But your mother had murdered Aegon, even if in self-defense, and ordered the murder of one of Helaena’s kids. Children. There seemed to be no morals in any of the sides.

After your forced truce, you had seen little of Aemond. He had slowly given back your freedom, in the two weeks he had had you by his side. The planning of a royal wedding in such little time kept you busy. You never wanted Alicent, in your life, but you found yourself longing for her. It was hard, after a life of exile, to remind all the stuffy rules of courtesy in the Seven Kingdoms. Alicent had been great at even, much more than your mother and Daemon.

At first, you had been constantly on edge, as if you were waiting for the executioner’s sword to fall on your neck at any time. But the more the wedding approached, the more you realized Aemond had no devious plan to lull you into a false sense of safety and then kill you. His only devious plan was marrying you and giving you half the responsibilities of running the Red Keep.

Slowly, he had been piling them on you. The better you behaved, the more you were trusted to oversee. It was not the incentive he probably thought it was, but it kept you busy. It was you, who had to supervise the servants and manage the finances, now. You were consulted on what should be served at feasts, asked about settling arguments. Aemond’s wife in anything but name, the acting Lady of the Red Keep. Soon, noble children would be sent here, and it would be your responsibility to mind their education.

It was an adjustment. Making sure there was sufficient in the stores was hard, as it was monitoring where all the money went. It was not like being the wife of any lord because your finances impacted on those of the Kingdom. It had brought you closer to the servants, asking for advice on how to do your duty properly. And it had allowed you to learn quite a few things about Aemond.

One. He was an insomniac. He went to bed late, when you were already asleep, and left after only four hours, five at most. Aemond might be sharing your bed, but you never saw him. He disliked the dark, too. He used more candles on his nightly walks than you did in a week.

Two, he forgot to eat often. Aemond was an overall workaholic, and thought everyone was, too. Frequently, his meetings would drag on and on, and he would skip lunch. It was a comical sight, when he was with the small council. The lords, the Hand included, would flock out of the room as soon as they were dismissed. Then, in a very undignified manner, they would dilapidate the kitchen, messing up your tracking of the stores.

Third, he had taken a liking to poetry. It had greatly perplexed you, when you found that your household now included two poets. You had grown used to minding them too, and tolerating their strange ways.

Margaret entered silently, placing a bucket of water in a corner. You took your hair down and started to brush it, hurriedly. Margaret went to attend to the clothes you would wear to give you privacy to bathe. When all the painstakingly process of getting a Queen ready was done, you exited Aemond’s chambers and ran right into him.

He was already dressed for the feast, wearing a rich black doublet, the Conqueror’s crown on his head. His long silver hair was held back in a half updo, much simpler than what your father used to wear. Still, he looked regal.

“Ah, niece. I see you are ready.” Aemond offered his arm, gently. Careful not to move abruptly, less he spooked you. “Shall we?”

You take his arm, fighting the impulse to flinch in disgust. Your brother’s killer! The thought echoes around your head. But also, the last Targaryen standing. You need to get used to it, you promised your mother you would not allow the Song of Ice and Fire to ruin Westeros. Targaryens have to multiply. If it meant carrying his child, then so be it.

Aemond says nothing. He seems amused by your internal conflict. You will be his Queen, soon enough. His touch has to stop surprising you. It could be much worse. Aemond could have killed you, or kept you locked up. Instead, he has offered something very generous.

The hall looks exactly as when you left. The faces, though, are changed. Despite the houses' colors and sigils being the same, you don't recognize anyone but the Hand. There is also Tyland Lannister, who you know sits on the small council. Or you hope it's him. You were never able to tell the Lannisters apart.

Most of the crowd gasps when you and Aemond enter the hall. The dress was a statement, one that was not seen in quite a few years. Red and black, and previously worn by Rhaenyra, it made clear where you had stood.

“...So he is going through it…?”

“Look at her, the bastard daughter of that whore…”

“Wasn't he engaged to a Baratheon?”

“... Worse than Maegor, the bitch… Taxes through the skies…”

“She is his niece!”

You braved the whispers, clinging to Aemond's arm. Idly, you considered running away. Far from all this nonsense and back to the Free Cities. It was too much, hearing these people call your mother a whore and the second coming of Maegor, when her head was still on a spike, and they sat here, plump and rosy from the good life.

You knew Rhaenyra's reign had not turned out well. And that whatever her and Daemon had been up to, it had driven her mad in the end. She had executed and murdered many, and been a poor ruler, blinded by panic. But she was still your mother. A human being. A Queen. Whose head hung on the city's gates as you were made to marry her replacement.

When you finally made it to the table, Aemond pulled your chair out for you, and pressed his palm against your back. A warning. You didn't know how, but he could tell what you were thinking. He would not tolerate any kind of scene from you, he had stated. Nothing that made him look weak, or you would regret it.

“Good evening.” Aemond said, remaining standing behind your chair. It was an odd position to choose while addressing his subjects, but it was one that showed his power over you. “I thank you all for coming to witness such… Joyous occasion.” He smirked, squeezing your shoulder. You couldn't fight the slight dropping of your fake smile.

“Tomorrow, the division between the Blacks and Greens will finally be over. And it's all thanks to this wonderful woman.” Aemond took your hand and raised it to his lips. He certainly knew how to put on a show for the masses. When you were children, he had been much less charming, although he had had his moments of political savviness. The engagement to the Baratheons, for example. His taste for the dramatic, unfortunately, had always been there. Take that awful speech, for example.

His lips were cold against your skin. You shuddered.

"A toast." He said, looking directly into your eyes. The perfect picture of the dutiful fiancée. You glared, but gave him an even brighter smile. You disliked being made a show. “To my niece. The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

The crowd cheered. Aemond sat down next to you, prompting the servants to start serving the food. You didn't speak a word. It was the first time you ate together after two weeks of sharing the same chambers.

You poured him wine, noticing your grandfather's expectant eyes on you. The conversation on the table was stilted. The King didn't care much for noise, so the council spoke quietly and formally. None thought to include you.

"Thank you." Aemond said, and placed a few cuts of meat on your plate.”When you finish dinner, I will be expected to socialize. You are welcome, but not forced to do the same.”

“Are Rhaena and Baela here?” You looked at him, eagerly. They were the only people you were excited to see.

“We have agreed it would be best if you saw them tomorrow, after the wedding.” Corlys interjected, smoothly. Aemond grunted. Ah, how cunning of the Hand. To meet your once sisters-in-law to be after you couldn't escape.

“I understand. Well. I think I will enjoy the company of your council, Your Grace.” Your tone was polite, but firm. No room for argument. All these stuffy lords, eager to go spend money in the brothels, were now stuck in your company. It surely wasn't winning Corlys any friends.

You smirked. Aemond finished eating, and with a kiss to your crown that was all for show, departed.

At first, you made conversation with the Grand Maester, about the latest book releases and how the war had nearly killed the industry.

"Not enough people want to read, your Grace. Terrible. I do hope, when we open the Red Keep to children again, you will teach them the importance…"

"I think that's enough." Corlys said, offering you his hand. "I think you owe this old man a dance, granddaughter." And he couldn’t lose the chance to lord his relationship with you all over the rest of the lords. It would be simply too much to ask. He was still the same ambitious man he had been back then, when you didn’t really know he was not your grand sire.

"Of course." You took his hand and allowed him to lead you into a polite dance. Your grandfather was a graceful, still a handsome man. You could see what Princess Rhaenys had seen in him, once.

“I do not begrudge you, Your Grace.” Corlys said, as he twirled you.

“Begrudge me?” You asked, once he had pulled you in once again.

“You and I know your father was not going to sire children in any other way. He loved Jacaerys, Lucerys and you like you were his own.” He whispered, quickly. Your smile froze. Was he really…? “Joffrey more so, since he got to pick his name” Corlys teased and you relaxed. He was offering you his support, and you were not fool enough to refuse him. Despite not knowing his motives.

“I… You shouldn’t.”

“I know. Your future husband would have my head. But know that you are Laenor’s daughter in all the ways that matter." Corlys gave you a polite little bow, as the song ended. His parting words left you more shaken than you wanted to admit. "And that come fifty years down the line, no one will remember what you looked like, or who sired you. They will only remember your maiden name, Velaryon, and your husband’s."

You were alone in the middle of the dance floor, too stunned to even speak. So that was his motivation. The Velaryon name, on the Iron Throne. The accounts later would call you the granddaughter of the Lord Hand, much like Queen Alicent had been the daughter of Otto.

A new song started. The crowd started to dance again, pushing at you. Immediately, Ser Willis started to make his way towards you. His ever vigilant eye never lost anything. Deciding to make his job easier, you walked towards a less crowded corner, so he could reach you. But as you waited, another man approached.

“Lady Velaryon.” The man dropped into a bow, so deep it might as well be kissing the floor. A Stark, by the sigil on his cloak. Quite handsome too. He was around Aemond’s age, but looked much friendlier. You jolted your memory. Jacaerys had mentioned a Stark in his letters. "You look just like your brother."

"Cregan Stark?" You asked. At his nod, you gave him a small curtsy. “Lord Stark, pleased to meet you.”

Ser Willis, still far away, touched the shoulder of another Kingsguard. They both crept closer.

"Are you safe?" Cregan grasped your hands in his, in quite a bold move. To touch the King’s betrothed, it was an offense that could be punishable by death if Aemond so chose. And none of the people gathered in the hall would blame him for it. Daemon had killed men for much less, and so had your mother. Targaryens weren’t rational, when they thought someone to be theirs.

Cregan’s words were spoken in a hushed tone, but not enough for your guards not to hear. You gave them a nervous look.

"Yes." You answered to Cregan, hoping it was convincing enough that he wouldn’t try some foolish plan to liberate you, when in fact, you hardly needed one. Your agreement with Aemond was enough. You truly had nowhere to go, you were tired of running, and you were fulfilling your mission. It was your mother’s will. She had said at any cost. You won’t disappoint. If Cregan Stark wanted to take you away from your only purpose, he would have to drag you away, kicking and screaming.

“You don't have to marry him, my lady. The North would back you, you could have an army.” Your smile froze. Those were dangerous words, no matter how low they were muttered. Treacherous. Was everyone in this feast intent on getting killed?

“I am marrying him because it is my duty.” You squeezed his hands, hoping he would get the message. Ser Willis stepped closer to you, ready to intervene. The other guard went away, surely to look for reinforcements.

“Is it, to marry your family's killer? My lady, there is no need…”

“There is something stronger, binding the King and me.” You interrupted, firm but polite. Why didn’t he get the hint? A pair of arms snaked around your waist. So the guard had not gone looking for reinforcements, but Aemond. You relaxed into his hold, knowing he wouldn’t let Cregan Stark take you away and try to save you from yourself.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, the cold crown he wore bumping against your head. You were not a small woman, but he had to lean down to be able to kiss you. By the look on Lord Stark’s face, it didn’t make him less intimidating in the least.

"Ah, Lord Cregan. How good it is to see you.” His voice was mocking, taunting. “What are you doing with my betrothed?”

“I… Your Grace.” The Stark flustered, helplessly looking at you to save him. You gave him a cold look, knowing that if you intervened, Aemond could take it as a show of favor towards the man. Not only would it doom him more, but it would also get you punished. You didn’t fancy walking into your wedding with bound wrists.

“Surely not convincing her to run away?”

“I…” Your eyes closed, trying not to think of the destiny of this man who tried to help you and now was going to have a bloody ending for his troubles.

“I know many men would want a wife like her.” His grip turned slightly more possessive, hands digging into the bodice of your dress. Insinuating something. Painting a nice picture for Cregan Stark. “You were recently widowed, were you not?” Dismissive. A power play. One of his favorite things.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Beautiful. Learned. Strong.” Aemond hooked his chin over your shoulder, smiling at the other man. As if you were nothing more than a prize to be won. But the nickname was too much. You lean back, and stomped on his foot. Aemond made a gurgling, pained sound. The Stark raised his eyebrows in surprise, but made no comments. He surely was thinking about how he had misread the situation.

Cregan Stark would never understand it. He was a good, honorable man. And you and Aemond were everything but. He was tainted by war, you were tainted for rolling in the mud with him. Both dishonorable, both self-interested. Both lying to yourselves, telling you were doing this for the greater good.

Targaryen blood called to each other like moths to a flame. Slowly, you stumbled into each other's arms, thinking yourselves the last man and woman on earth. You were not. If you were to have a child with any other man, those children would still be Targaryens.More so if Aemond had children with another woman. Perhaps, it would even be more useful, producing more children. Neither of you voiced it.

It was an excuse, the Song of Ice and Fire. But a useful one, for both of you.

"Worry not, wolf. I know a woman like her is enough to lead any man to insanity.” Aemond squeezed your hip, and you knew, the snide little remark was not for Cregan but for you. “I will take your words as they are, nothing more than courtly love and deep admiration for my niece.”

“Cursed is the ground because of you;

through painful toil you will eat food from it

all the days of your life.

It will produce thorns and thistles for you,

and you will eat the plants of the field.”

(The Father's book 5:12-16)

It was a strange sight. In the Velaryon’s cloak, all dark hair and eyes. It was painfully obvious to anyone with eyes, the truth of your heritage. Yet none of those who stood in the Sept dared say a word.

The good thing about being King? The truth was what he said it was. Aemond suddenly understood his father more and more. Viserys had chosen to deny the truth until the bitter end, and there was nothing that could be done about it. As long as the King protected you, bastard or not, you were safe.

Aemond wondered if you realized the amount of trust you were placing in him. Should his Hand decide to deny your heritage, it was only Aemond’s word that shielded you from being put to the sword. Still, if the choice was between you and Corlys Velaryon, Aemond already knew who he would pick.

You had not opposed him. You had not installed a maritime block on the Seven Kingdoms, making the common folk suffer from the lack of food for not declaring for Rhaenyra. You had not switched sides.

As you approached, on the arm of the same man that he was currently plotting to kill on your behalf, Aemond was a little dumbfounded by how beautiful you were. When he had first seen you, all grown up, he had thought you pretty. A sufficient distraction to curb his loneliness. Now he knew, you were not pretty. You were otherworldly.

You didn’t look anything like a true Valyrian. Your beauty was not the same as the one his cousins had. He had been foolish, thinking that your darker features put a damper on your beauty. The sun kissed skin, the enchanting eyes… It only added to your charm. It had taken him two weeks to realize it, and it was a shame. You were more than just a projection of Lucerys he could use to torture himself.

When the time came, Aemond draped his cloak over you, placing you back under the Targaryen’s red and black. He couldn’t help but give you a smug smile. You looked good on his house’s colors. Better. Like you belonged in them. It didn’t matter, that you had come out of the womb with a strong resemblance to Rhaenyra’s sworn shield. You were half Targaryen, and as far Aemond was concerned, that was the half that mattered.

Velaryons. What a joke. Who wanted Velaryons, when they were too ambitious for their own good? When they were unable to bring children into the world safely? No, he decided. You made the perfect Queen because you were not a Velaryon. You had performed every task he had set for you perfectly. Born to rule.

The wedding passed in a blur. It felt as if he barely blinked and suddenly, you were both saying your vows and were being hand fasted together.

“Wife.” You turned towards him, all wide dark eyes. Slightly scared. He leaned down, and whispered in your ear, to warn you. “I’m going to kiss you, then we will retire for the night.”

“But Rhaena and Baela…” You started to protest, but Aemond leaned down and kissed you. It was only a peck, a brush of the lips. It was enough to quiet you. You shyly looked down, the image of a sweet maiden. The lords clapped, politely.

There would be no Rhaena and Baela. He was already thinking of a way to take Corlys out of the equation in case he ever became an obstacle. It would do not good, if you were too attached to the girls, and he had to kill their grandfather.

“You can see them tomorrow, tolīmorghon.” Aemond took your tiny hand in his. You were cold and sweaty in his grasp. Anxious. He nearly smirked. You would grow out of it, he was sure. Aemond was already ruining you, and you didn’t even realize, too worried by the others. He had seen how you didn’t jump to Cregan’s aid.

“But… The guests… The feast…”

“I will keep my promise, if that is what worries you.” Aemond tucked a soft strand of hair behind your ear. Careful, careful, to sound teasing and not like he resented it. “But since I do not get to bed my wife, I want to at least get to spend the night with her.”

“You have been spending the nights with me.” You muttered to him. He almost laughed. Clueless thing that you were, to think your nights were spent with him.

Aemond started leading you away from the guests, and towards his chambers. He was eagerly awaiting to watch you sleep. A thing he missed from before the war was the ability to get a full night of sleep, but Aemond betted watching you do it would be nice. Your face held still childlike innocence, and most probably perpetually would. It was that damn combination, of Harwin’s puppy eyes and being shielded from war. Asleep, you would surely look like an angel.

He liked your purity, compared to other ladies of the realm. You had known of the horrors of war, but you hadn’t actually seen it. Sometimes, he thought he had chosen to keep you because of it. You didn’t know what kind of monster Aemond really was. How much blood stained his hands.

You knew he had killed Lucerys, you knew he had taken Harrenhall. You didn’t know he had executed all the men there, children and elderly included. You knew he had killed Daemon, you didn’t know exactly how many times he had stabbed him, until both Caraxes and Vhagar were both plunging to their deaths. You knew he was a killer. You didn’t know sometimes he didn’t regret it.

“I have spent nights with you?” He asked, amused. Most women would be terrified to share his bed. Not you, apparently, if you had thought Aemond was sleeping by your side already and had made no fuzz.

“Where are you sleeping, then?” You opened the door to his chambers, already used to the creaking hinges. As if those had been your chambers your whole life. “I thought…”

“I have been sleeping on my study.” So you went to bed every night and fell asleep thinking he would later join you? It was cute. Perhaps keeping you would be easier than he thought. Aemond was halfway there already. “It wouldn’t have been proper, otherwise.”

“And you are all about property.” He ignored your taunt, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The satisfaction he felt was too high to be bothered. Not only did he had you already, but you had slowly started to trust him.

You wanted to stay. The state of his rooms showed it. He was a tidy man, and liked to keep his rooms the same way. Still, there was something enchanting about the way you had taken possession of the place during the past two weeks. Your gown, placed over the bed, surely by your maid. A few books on the left side of the bed, that were definitely not his. A tiny pair of slippers just next to the fire.

Aemond nudged you towards the armchair. You sat down without complaint, looking at him with curious dark eyes. He kneeled in front of you and helped take off your shoes, placing the slippers on your feet instead. The skin of your ankles was soft and vulnerable. He gave it a gentle rub before sitting back on his haunches.

“I brought you here because I have something to tell you.” Still on his knees, worshiping another effigy. Aemond liked the parallels of it. So many nights, spent asking for forgiveness at a Sept. More nights, he would spend at your feet, begging for atonement to his own personal goddess.

“Why are you on your knees?” You asked, looking down at him, eyes so sweet and pure, not even the Maiden herself could compare. How many nights, would it take? How much time, until you became a sinner like himself? “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Aemond cleared his throat. He looked up at you, suddenly feeling fear choking him. Expiation was not an easy thing. The High Septon himself had said, before spluttering some nonsense about how if he wore the Crown, it was by the grace of the Seven and their favor. Not because he had been the last one standing in a pit of gladiators fighting to death. Not because he had been the only one not to drown in the rivers of blood that followed.

The thought of ruining your innocence, turning you like him, was a thought that warmed him and filled him with dread. After it, Aemond would never be alone again. You would be just like him, broken, ruined, dirty. You would never leave his side because you would understand there was no other place for you but by his side. And just as he did, you would love him and hate him in equal amounts.

But you were so pure. Filled with good intentions and loyalty. Sweet. A balm to his wounds. It would be lost when you turned like him. The one good thing he had found for himself, broken beyond repair.

The silence went on and on. Aemond finally broke it, by speaking in a tone so soft, you might not even be able to hear. Confessing.

“I didn’t kill Luke on purpose. It was…”

A twitch of your mouth. The Maiden come to life, growing impatient. Eyes cold, as if they could erase him from existence.

You would not like this truth. It had all been for nothing. The death of your twin, the war… It was never meant to happen. A foolish mistake. If he had truly meant to kill the boy, perhaps this mess would make some sense. Frame it as a war between bitter enemies, and not family, with combatants that were barely out of childhood.

Or children themselves. Like Lucerys and you had been.

“It was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar. I shouldn’t have, and I despise myself for it, every day. I wish I had never…”

Never chased after him. Never set Vhagar on the smaller dragon. Because back then, he had not been a bad man. That morning, Aemond had been happy. Celebrating an engagement that brought honor to his house. He had not rolled out of bed thinking of killing a child. How few hours of innocence he had left.

No one had told Lucerys how few hours of life he had left, either.

A sob. Aemond can’t tell if he voiced all of that, but by your horrified look, he has. It feels like being stabbed in the eye all over again. Worse than Daemon nearly taking his head off.

It takes him a while to recognize the feeling that curls around his stomach, makes him want to throw up, as your gentle hand presses over his head, prompting him to rest it on your lap.

As you said the words he so craved to hear, he finally got it.

“I forgive you.” But could you, really, when you didn't know what you were forgiving him for?

Shame. It’s shame, the feeling in his stomach. He had not felt it in a long time.

Shame, for what he had done to wear this dammed crown. Shame, for killing Luke. Shame, for what he was about to do to you.

The months go by. You start sleeping on the same bed. Rigid. Side by side, as if children. Slowly, your bodies start to curl against each other. Aemond, always awake before you do, wonders if you realize. He moves away before you wake, but your body always seems to search for him when you sleep.

It’s a cold marriage. One of duty, or so the rest of Westeros thinks. Even the Lord Hand is fooled by it. Aemond has heard the maids whisper about it, about the poor, pretty Queen, trapped into marriage to a monster. Wasting her beauty and sweetness on a man who doesn’t see her.

As a team, you work well. Outside your chambers, your relationships and interactions are extremely polite. The Seven Kingdoms have never been more prosperous than under your combined rule. Aemond is pleased with his legacy. Give it a few more years, if he doesn’t ruin anything, and he will go down in history not as a kinslayer but as the bringer of the golden age of Westeros. The arts prosper, the people are educated and well-fed, the crime rate is low.

“What a dreadfully boring marriage.”

“Duty. Only that. I would go mad, if my husband never touched me.”

“Do you think the King is like Ser Laenor?”

Aemond doesn’t mind, if they think his marriage is colder than the North beyond the Wall. He knows the truth.

There are nights, where you wake up desperate, a scream in your throat. Sometimes, you scream at him, you say you hate him. In others, you sob yourself into a meltdown, saying you hate yourself.

It’s always the same, on nights like that. He holds you in his arms, until you stop fighting. Overcome by hysterics, it’s you who searches for his mouth. You kiss him.

Aemond holds you down. You fight, you push and pull, like the waves lapping at the shore. Your nightgown rides up, his pants and shirt come off. He chases your sadness away with steady rolls of the hips, until all that is left is you and him, and not the ghosts of your past.

You break down gloriously, beneath him. Clawing at his back, wanting to make him hurt as you hurt. Sometimes, Aemond needs to hurt, too.

Sometimes it’s him, who wakes up screaming.

You fight. You scream. The guards knock on the door, concerned about what you are doing to each other, thinking one of you finally snapped and attempted murder. Like beasts, you roll around on the floor, clothes ripping, hair being pulled, skin bitten.

You ride him, sometimes. Your delicate hands turn into cuffs, keeping him pinned down. You sob your way through it, until Aemond cannot tell if it’s over stimulation or sadness. It’s sick. You two act like cats in heat. It’s the best sex he had ever had.

No matter who was the instigator, the next morning you slip out of bed, embarrassed by your behavior. Cold. You avoid his eyes, his mere presence makes you flinch. But despite your sudden turn into the most proper woman in the realm, Aemond knows the truth.

You are ruined. Just like him.

Hugor and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.

(The Smith's book. 2:14-15)

[jackdaw-kraai]

Just wanted to say and absolutely heartfelt thank you for your Guides Verse as the trick that Luke uses where he repeats a sentence known to him really well in overwhelming situations saved me from crying in public and falling into a bad panic attack (day at work was just terrible).

So thank you for making my day just a tiny bit better.

It’s honestly baffling to me how many people have said they’ve adopted Luke’s specific mantra of sanity and fortitude in their own personal lives. I never expected that when I first wrote it, and honestly, I’m very humbled and flustered every time I hear someone tell me they use it for themselves and have it work. It’s a known and proven tactic to have a mantra to focus on during trying times, but I never thought my application of it would be someone’s first introduction to it, never mind that they would fully adopt it. I’m glad, and joyful, you’ve found so much worth in it, and I hope it will continue to serve you well in the absence of any more direct help I can offer in those moments. Know that Luke would be very proud of you, as am I.