#ascension of our lord

[mcx7demonbros]

The Ascension, Pietro Perugino, 1510

[light7778]

honey kissed day <3

[nebraskaenergy]

Exaudi

mm Prayer of the Day Almighty God, your only Son was taken up into heaven and in prayer intercedes for us. May we also come into your presence and live forever in your glory, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God now and forever. The Old Testament reading is Ezekiel 36:22–28 Therefore say unto the house of Israel, thus saith the…

[dramoor]

“The feast of the Ascension is the celebration of heaven now opened to human beings, heaven as the new and eternal home, heaven as our true homeland.” ~Fr Alexander Schmemann

(Art: “The Ascension”, Rembrandt, c.1636)

[real-steel-inquisitor]

A werid guy called hoid has been hanging around and telling life changing stories I think he's trying to cause trouble.

Hmm that sounds suspicious. Technically life changing stories aren't illegal but they can be a gateway towards inspiration to rise up and upset the status quo. Best to report him to your nearest obligator or Inquisitor so he can be safely violently killed 👍

[allaboutyoupostnthings]

Understanding the Annunciation: A Spiritual Reflection

This is a continuation of my earlier post on the Annunciation by Saint Gabriel. This is a very emotional moment when it is fully considered, one that marks the divine intersection of human history and sacred purpose. This is the first decade in the Joyful Mysteries, a time filled with anticipation and revelation. In the earlier post, I mentioned that Mary spent her time in the temple from age…

[a-godman]

Living in Ascension by Living in our Spirit and Becoming a Palanquin for Christ

 As lovers of Christ pursuing the Lord in love, we are called by Him to live in ascension as the new creation in resurrection by living in our spirit and loving the Lord so that we may become mature in the riches of the life of Christ, be the carriage bearing Him in His move on earth, and become a garden for His private enjoyment. Our pursuit of the Lord in love is seen in type in the book of…

[waterfae]

Kill My Lord Husband [Part 1]

Summary: Your father has decided to marry you off – and to a Blackwood no less! But you want nothing to do with the famously known Bloody Ben, not when your heart already belongs to another. Your solution? Kill your lord husband.

Pairings: Benjicot “Davos” Blackwood x Reader, Aeron Bracken x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, adult language, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, absolute nonsense, no beta

Word Count: 1.7+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

|| General Masterlist || House of the Dragon Masterlist ||

“A marriage proposal has been accepted.”

With wide eyes, you looked up from your dinner plate and towards your father, “A marriage proposal?” Your voice shook slightly and your heart raced with anticipation. There was only one man you could think of at this moment who had any interest in marrying you – you in him – and the thought of that particular man made it feel as though your entire body was ascending up to the heavens. At long last, your hidden lover had gotten the courage to seek out your father and ask for your hand. You tried to contain your knowing smile as you took a sip from your cup and played off your excitement. You asked a follow up, though you arrogantly foresaw the answer, “And to whom, may I ask?”

“Benjicot Blackwood.”

You spit out your wine; confidence immediately deflated and your ascension halted as a great monstrosity reached out and pulled you back down into the depths of hell. That was not the name you expected to come from your father’s lips.

“Benjicot Blackwood?!” You sputtered while your handmaiden rushed forward to assist with the mess you made, “You choose for me to subjugate myself, my future, my happiness...to House Blackwood?” Panic set in, evident by the rising shrill and breathiness of your voice, “You can’t be serious?”

“What is wrong with the Blackwoods?” Your father asked, oblivious to the extremity of your anguish and continued to cut into his roasted duck, “They have long been our friends, a good family with good standing –” he paused to place a piece of the meat into his mouth, “You will be well taken care of.”

“That may be, but –” You attempted to interject, but were stopped with a casual wave of his fork.

“Benjicot Blackwood will be Lord of Raventree Hall once his father passes and you, its Lady.” He looked upon you with proud eyes, “Is that so bad a future?”

You stared at your father incredulously and tried to hold his gaze, but were unable to do so. Not when he was looking at you with such delight on his features, as if he had just done something exceptional rather than damning. It was far from what you genuinely desired. Still, you replied, eyes downcast, “No, of course not.” Because it was the truth. Any woman of the realm would be fortunate to marry into such an old and noble house. There was no denying that. “I just thought…” Your voice trailed and you swallowed back the words, for if you said them out loud, it would mean the future that you had planned for yourself was now truly lost.

“Thought what?” He asked once he realized you were not going to complete your statement, “Of your little Bracken knight?”

Your head snapped back up at him, shocked at the revelation: he knew. Your love, as it turned out, wasn’t so hidden after all and it made you wonder if the pitying look he gave you now made the entire situation even worse. You pondered further: if your father knew of your relations with the young knight, why even engage in acts that would bring about the situation in the first place?

“My darling daughter,” He began as he reached out and patted your hand in an attempt to comfort you, “It is time. You are already one and twenty.” He hesitated at first in saying his following remark, sure that it would hurt you further, but quickly decided that it was better to be honest, “And he has never asked.”

So, that was why. How does one accept a proposal that never comes?

First was an intake of air, then the sound of wood scrapping against the stone floor as you pushed your chair back from the meal. You rose up from your seat with a blank expression and side-stepped away from your place at the table before announcing, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Finally, you removed yourself from the dining hall with your father looking solemnly after your retreating form.

In your chambers, you paced back and forth. It was hot. So very hot. You could feel the burning of your skin as you fanned yourself and you knew, without even having to look into a mirror, that your face was flushed. Beads of sweat began to form at your temple. Your hands shook. And everything felt so tight – so constricting. Your chest heaved as you tried to gasp for air; you couldn’t get your lungs to expand enough in order to take in the much needed oxygen – dread seemed to fill it in its stead. You couldn’t decide which was more suffocating: the clothes or the deplorable reality you were currently facing. Eventually, your fingers found their way to the front of your bodice and you began to fumble with the laces wanting nothing more than to get the accursed article off of you. You ripped it from your body as it came loose before throwing the wretched thing across the room and let out an enraged holler.

He promised, you thought as tears threatened to fall, he promised for many moons now that he would finally go to your father and ask for your hand; announce your love before the whole realm and make you truly his. But as always, he moved too slowly. Cautious. At times, too cautious. And now with his delay, you were going to be sent away to become a Blackwood.

You hunched over to pull off your slippers then threw them unceremoniously against the wall in a vain attempt to quell your anger. With your stockinged feet, you stomped towards the nearest window and screamed into the night, hoping that the breeze would carry your message to its intended.

“Aeron Bracken! You fucking coward!"

The days moved swiftly thereafter and soon enough a week had passed since the announcement of your betrothal, a week since you sent a raven to Aeron, and a week since you waited for a reply that never came. It left a bitter taste in your mouth and an even more sour mood as you sat in the wheelhouse that carried you towards what would be your new home: Raventree Hall. It was there where you would officially meet your betrothed and have the ceremony. Had you not been so heartbroken by your knight’s lack of response, you may have put up a much greater resistance to the marriage. But you were, so you didn’t. It did not help matters that your Lord Paramount actually favored the union, which sealed your fate if nothing else had already. So there you were, sitting across from your father while Atlanna, your most favorite handmaiden and dearest friend, sat to your left as you traveled west.

“A storm brews, my lady.” Atlanna stated candidly as she peeked through the window on her side.

“Does it?” In turn, you peeled back the curtain on yours to observe for yourself the dark clouds that slowly began to roll in; it was as though the heavy weather stalked your very mood. You released the curtain and turned your attention away from the window, slumping into your seat with your arms crossed over your chest, “Perhaps it shall bring about a flood in which I can drown.”

Atlanna let out a small chortle at your antics while your father simply shook his head.

By the time you arrived to the castle, it was already the afternoon and the sky had completely turned overcast, though the rain refused to fall, much like your tears. That tight feeling in your chest returned and you could feel it claw its way up to your neck as you journeyed past the castle gates and closer to the entrance where your future family stood to receive you. Sensing your nerves, Atlanna placed one of her hands over yours and squeezed. You looked over at her and smiled weakly as you squeezed hers back, glad that your father allowed her to leave the household in order to bring her along with you; it would make putting on your brave face much easier and give you at least one ally among your new house.

The wheelhouse slowed and finally came to a stop, prompting your father to stand from his seat and push the door open. You took in a deep breath and steeled yourself, following in your father’s footsteps with Atlanna right behind you. However, as you neared the final steps, your foot slipped and you felt yourself falling forward.

‘Oh’s’ and gasps were heard from the small group gathered before you. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the impact against the cold, muddy ground, but it never happened. Instead, you felt your body turn as a strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and the other cradled your head, preventing your fall.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and found yourself staring at someone’s chest; your savior was taller than you which forced you to look up. You wished you hadn’t. It was then that you realized that the gods had granted your prayer and sent you to drown, drown, drown. But rather a flood, it was into a pair of stormy eyes. Your heart quickened and your lips parted as you let out a small gasp, still unable to look away. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. He bore down into yours as well, but with what emotion, you couldn’t quite grasp. It felt like an eternity before someone finally let out a chuckle.

“Well, that’s one way to introduce yourself.” Lord Samwell Blackwood laughed and strode over to the pair of you with a wide grin, your body still encased in the young man’s arms. “My lady,” He began once he reached you both and placed a hand on each of your shoulders, “Meet my son, heir to Raventree Hall, and your future lord husband. Benjicot Blackwood.”

Something in your mind suddenly shattered upon hearing his name and you were finally able to blink away from Benjicot’s gaze. You hadn’t realized until then how tightly you had been gripping onto his tunic and as much as you wanted to let go, you weren’t sure if you could with the strength in your legs slowly dissipating. Your eyes darted from Benjicot to his father, then to your father, whose smile was just as wide and full of amusement as Lord Blackwood’s, then back to Benjicot who’s grip on your waist only tightened. You looked up into his eyes once more and a familiar fluttering in your stomach began.

Your eyes widened with recognition.

Oh, shit.

a/n: I recently rejoined tumblr and a few weeks ago I posted a poll to find which character you wanted me to torture first and the Benjicot girlies prevailed. So this is me dipping my toe into the HOTD fandom. I hope I do these characters justice. I was initally going for a longer chapter, but honestly, just wanted to get something out there lol. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

And yes, that was a teeny tiny reference to @spider-stark's fic Little Bracken Knight. 🤭

taglist: @pantheonofbeauty @cregansfourthwife @spicyteaandcrumpets @accidentpronedork @cococrazy18

@witch-moon-babe @a-romantic-twst @flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @flowerprincezz

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Your Throne

benji blackwood x strong!fem!reader 

Summary: You’ve been married to Benji for the past decade and have been residing in Raventree Hall awaiting your ascension. You and your mother tire of the constant conflict between the Brackens and Blackwoods. These tensions cause unrest between you and Benji and he’s willing to do what he must to make peace in the Riverlands.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, mentions of fighting, political messiness, marital problems - but gets resolved, oral(f), p in v

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel, i’m SO sorry i made this super angsty in the beginning also that i didn’t make him super amazing and dreamy at first buut this man on his knees? folded 

Word Count: 3.4k

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

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Daughter-

I have been sent ravens upon ravens of the ever rising tensions between the Blackwoods and the Brackens. I’m sure the Red Keep could rival Raventree Hall if this keeps up. If the crown must intervene, if I must come to the Riverlands, you will not find it to be a pleasant visit. If you require my help all you have to do is ask. 

I love you. It would make me happy if the five of you visited — after you’ve settled this feud.

-Rhaenyra

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I push the note away from me and lean back in my chair. I don’t know how she expects me to settle this hatred that’s spread over generations. I don’t want her to have to come out here and I don’t want to put so much pressure on Benji. He hasn’t necessarily told his men to stop the fighting but he doesn’t outright condone it. I know it’s going to have to start with me sitting down and having a serious discussion with him. We’ve both avoided the topic of the ongoing feud that seems to have no end in sight but we can’t do that anymore.

“What does it say?” Benji holds the note between his fingers. “I wish she wouldn’t always write to you in High Valyrian.” he pouts. 

“It’s a language you could learn. A trait that befits a King Consort.” I purse my lips at him. “If this fell into the wrong hands..” I shake my head flaring my nostrils. 

“The wrong hands?” he chuckles. “We’re no longer at war. The realm is in peace.” I push my hands to the table at his words and rise. 

“You could’ve fooled me with all of the fighting that goes on with the Brackens.” I throw my hands into the air. “If we can’t even keep this house in line how can we be seen to keep a realm in line? My mother has threatened to come out and deal with it herself if we can not.” my temper keeps rising and along with my voice as I pace across the empty council chambers. 

“It is not my fault those Bracken beasts act the way they do.” his voice low as he glares at me. 

“What of the Blackwoods? They’re your men, are they not?” I turn to him exasperated. “Do you wish for me to order them around? Order you around? Must I do everything for you Benjicot? I suppose that’s how it’s always been.” I scoff looking him over before walking to the doors to leave the conversation.

“You know I fucking hate-“ the doors slam open effectively cutting him off. 

“Princess,” my guard pants. “There’s been an incident involving Maelor.” my heart races. 

“Where is he? Is he okay?” I sprint down the hall with my guard and he leads me to the maesters. Benji is a step behind me as we enter shutting the door. Our eldest son is having his cheek stitched up and while another maester cleans up his scratched knuckles. “What happened?” I look around the room waiting for an answer. 

“From what I gathered a fight with a Bracken boy.” I fume, turning my head to Maelor who winces. 

“How does the other kid look?” Benji kneels down with a smirk. 

“Benji-“ I’m cut off by his guard bursting it. Gods, what could it possibly be now? 

“My Lord,” he looks around for Benji, who rises from Maelors side. “Lord Bracken is at the front gates. He doesn’t seem very happy.” the guard looks at me and cowers under my glare. 

“I’m going to lose my fucking mind.” I mutter. “Maelor, stay here. We will discuss this later.” I then turn to Benji and roll my eyes at him. “Let’s go.” I grab his arm and pull him out of the room. 

“What are you suggesting we do? Since you are so engaged in politics.” Benji drawls as we start towards the main doors of the Keep. 

“And you are?” I hiss. “You infuriate me.” I huff and push out the doors and make my way across the yard. 

“Likewise, wife.” he grabs my hand and pulls me back to match his relaxed pace as we approach. “I don’t care if you’re angry with me. Don’t show it in front of him.” he says through clenched teeth as we approach the gates. I glare at him and look forward and soften my face. The gates start to open and we’re greeted with a red faced Lord Bracken. 

“Princess,” he gruff’s out, nodding his head. “Our sons have gotten into a fight leaving them both injured. What is to be done about this? My son is being stitched up by our maesters as we speak.” his voice rises and I can feel Benji's temper explode next to me. 

“As is my son. I was hoping we would be able to sit down and discuss what can be done to-“ Lord Bracken cuts me off. 

“What can be done?” Benji steps forward and I raise my hand stopping him. “My son has been scarred. You think a discussion will fix that?” he laughs. 

“Were you there to witness this fight?” I tilt my head. 

“No, my boy-“ 

“You stand before me, heir to the throne,” I squint my eyes at him. “And accuse my son, my heir,” I scoff, shaking my head. “Accuse the heir of hurting your son. Yet you did not witness the act?” I turn to look at Benji in disbelief and he looks at me as if I’m mad. “Is this correct, Lord Bracken? Shall I see if the crown can intervene and help us settle this dispute or shall we try and find common ground alone?” I hum studying him. 

“Princess, I-“ Lord Bracken scrunches his brows and looks at Benji lost. “Do you have nothing to say for your beast of a son?” Benji steps forward again and I halt him once more. 

“I would choose the discussion with her over the crown. My wife is more willing to listen.” Benji looks blankly at his rival. 

“I will not enter your hall alone.” he raises his chin defiantly. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” I hum and call my guard over. “Fetch us three chairs please.” he hurries back and sets out the chairs for us and leaves. I take a seat and they follow. 

“What’s done is done. Blood has been spilled on both sides. For generations. For decades. When will enough be enough? I’ve lived here for years now. Raised my children here. I call the Riverlands my home. What can we do to end this feud once and for all? Name your price.” I search his face as he takes in my words. 

“I wish for my second son to be knighted and on the Queen's Guard.” he continues to think. 

“He’s but eight.” Benji raises an eyebrow. 

“When she rules.” he nods his head at me. 

“I want my daughter to be your daughter's Lady in Waiting when you move to Kings Landing. Let her marry a nice, rich Lord, be content.” his wants shock me. I never would’ve thought that we would want for his children.  

“Consider those things done. We can confirm and settle boundary lines. Set up monthly meetings. Allow communication to actually flow between our two houses. I wish to see these lands content and settled.” I nod at Lord Bracken who looks between the both of us. We continue the meeting and push ideas back and forth. A time is settled for us to have our first meeting and everything finally seems to be falling into place. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

I groan in relief as our chamber doors shut behind us. The moon has been high in the sky for some hours now but we’ve been too busy arguing in the council chambers with his men over the upcoming meetings with the Brackens. I tug at the strings on my dress and breathe out deeply as the fabric loosens. Benji grips my arm and spins me around. 

“What?” I glare up at him. 

“You just gave that Bracken pig whatever he asked for.” he looks down at me with dark eyes. 

“He didn’t ask for much. You’re acting as if I gave him my hand.” I roll my eyes at him and try to push him out of my way. 

“And if he asked for your hand?” I can’t help the half laugh that tumbles from my lips. 

“Gods, I might’ve said yes. At least he came over here to try and settle something. Actually being a man-“ 

“Choose your next words carefully.” his eyes darken as his grip tightens. 

“This feud needs to end or this marriage does. I am to rule Benjicot.” I rip my arm out of his grip. “For the past decade you’ve allowed this fight to wage and now it’s weighing me down.” I shake my head at a loss. 

“This marriage is weighing you down?” he looks at me wounded, nodding his head. 

“No, this continuous battle with the Brackens. I’m tired of it. I’m done raising my kids in this environment. Our son is permanently scarred. Our daughter is scared to go out past the gates to pick flowers.” my emotions rise and I feel tears of anger prick at my eyes. “Fucking flowers, Benji. My sweet girl can’t even pick flowers. If this feud doesn’t end by the end of the month I’m taking the kids and moving back to Kings Landing. Alone.” I feel the tears slip down my cheeks and I storm into the bathing chambers slamming the door. 

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The meetings over the past fortnight have been long and exhausting. We’ve been meeting almost everyday to discuss potential ways to keep the peace between the two houses. Listening to this table of men bark at each other has been driving me fucking mad. Benji has been tense and when he’s not yelling in the council chambers he’s beating his sword into a straw dummy in the training yard. 

Lord Bracken has been bringing his children along to the meetings and they have been able to get to know our children. They get along so handsomely it makes me sad they weren’t able to interact before this. Our daughters even take their guards out past the gates to go flower picking and it makes my heart melt when they show me flowers pouring out of their dress pockets. 

I’ve sent ravens to my mother and we’ve been in contact as much as possible. She thanked me profusely for getting tensions under control and told me to take my time but to please visit when we can. She still offers me her support and to come and show her strength if needed. I assure her it’s under control and things are truly beginning to settle. I send off one last raven to her and tell her we’re hosting our last meeting before our peace officially begins on the morrow. I sigh with a smile and begin to make my way back to our chambers. I push open the doors and stop in my tracks. I shut the door and look at Benji once more. 

“I don’t want you to leave me.” Benji is on his knees in the center of our chambers. “I’ll do anything, my Queen.” he keeps his focus on the floor as I come to stand in front of him. 

“Look at me, Benji.” I hum and his head snaps up to me. I cup his cheek and he leans into me. 

“Please don’t leave me.” he looks up to me and I’ve never seen him act this way. “We have our last meeting tomorrow. Everything’s done. We’ve made peace. Please stay with me.” he grabs my hand and places quick kisses on it. 

“I’ll never leave you.” I brush his hair back with my other hand. He pulls me closer and hugs my legs as I continue to brush back his hair. 

“I need to have you. It’s been so long.” he mumbles into my skirts and my body warms at his words. “Please,” he whines, pushing up my skirt. I gasp as his head disappears beneath my dress and I feel his lips on my thighs. 

“Benji,” I pant, not having anything to steady myself on. He pulls my small clothes down and taps my ankles when he wants me to step out of them. I cry out when his tongue slides through my center. His hands grip my waist as he practically sits me on his mouth and I moan loudly as he starts to lap against me. “Yes, Benji,” I gasp, gripping my skirts. My legs tremble and his hands move down to them to help steady me. I rock against his face and he moans, moving his tongue faster. He swirls around my bud that leaves me gasping above him. I cry as my pleasure slams through me and I almost topple over. 

“Come, my Queen.” he comes out from beneath my skirts and takes me to the bed. He strips off both of our clothes before he pulls me up the bed and gets me to place my legs on either side of his face. “Let me be your throne.” he looks up at me desperately pulling me down onto his mouth. 

“Fuck yes, Benji,” I whine grinding against his mouth. His tongue pushes into my core and I whimper above him. He wraps his hands around my hips as he starts to slam his tongue into me. “I’m- Benji,” my stomach tightens as his nose rubs against my bud. I grind harshly against his face and he groans into me as I fall apart against him. I go to move and his fingers dig into me. 

“Not done.” his hair tickles my thighs as he shakes his head. His lips encase my bud and I shutter above him. My fingers dig into his hair and grind his face up into my wetness. He moans into me and I almost come undone at the vibrations. As his tongue moves quicker my pleasure washes through me and I go taught above him. His tongue lashes against me and I shake in his arms before he starts to help me settle onto the bed. 

“I’m sorry.” he hovers above me and I pull him down into a kiss. I cling against him as he slowly grinds into me. He slides into me and I wrap my arms and legs around him. 

“I’m sorry I was mean and threatened to leave.” I bury my fingers in his hair.  

“I should’ve been better. I will be better.” he murmurs. into my neck. “Please don’t leave me.” his voice cracks. 

“I can’t leave you Benji. I love you too much.” his hips snap into mine at my words. Our lips find each other again and we press closer together. All it takes is a couple hushed words of love and adoration and we’re both coming undone and holding each other. 

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Visiting Kings Landing 

As our carriage pulls in through the Keep gates I smile watching our kids press their faces against the windows. Benji smiles at me from across the small space and I look at him in relief as it finally comes to a stop. My mother and siblings are waiting for us as we start to make our way out. My children run up to my mother and she scoops the two youngest up while my eldest holds onto my brother. We start to shuffle into the Keep and my mother allows us to settle into our chambers before we have supper. 

Our children run off with their cousins while we start to unpack in my old chambers. I look around the freshly cleaned solar and it’s as if nothing has changed. Benji brings our bags to the couch and begins to help me hang up gowns and put the rest of the clothes away. I poke my head out and ask my guard to have some tea brought up for us. In moments a servant is walking through my doors and preparing us tea. She whisks another in to light the hearth and they turn to us and ask if we should need anything else. When they leave my mother enters and she ushers us over to the chairs. 

“I wanted to thank you both, profusely, for getting the feud under control. I know that it was generational but it has been time for it to end for some time now. When you rule I want for your son to inherit peace as well. You know as well as I what it’s like to take over and be at war.” she looks at both of us with a soft smile. 

“I know, mother. We’ve been meaning to deal with it. I’m sorry.” I fold my hands and look at her. 

“I know, I know. I just won’t live forever, sweet girl-“

“I hate when you speak like this. You’re still so young. You’ll rule for much longer.” I scrunch my brows and shake my head. 

“We never know what the Gods have planned for us.” she hums looking at us. “I will let you both relax.” she gets up and lets herself out of my chambers. I slump further back into the chair and let my eyes shut. Everything is finally settling down and falling into place. Not that it hasn’t throughout the years but ending this feud was the last thing I needed to do to really set us and our children up. I turn my head to the side and peek open an eye to look at Benji. 

“How are you, my beautiful wife?” he hums brushing my hair back. 

“Tired, happy, content, feelings along that line.” I offer him a smile and he leans over and places a soft kiss on my lips. 

“I love you so much. I’ll continue to do better for you. I’ll be the King Consort you need me to be.” he hums. 

“You’ve been amazing over the past moon. You’ve done so well in meetings. Your ideas and council are sound. You’ve really pulled yourself together.” I nod at him. 

“It was either that or you were leaving me.” he frowns. 

“I’m sorry for saying that.” my words hushed. 

“I’m not. You got me to finally pull my head out of my ass. To be the man you need me to be.” his words are laced with heavy promises and emotions. 

“I love you and I think-“ 

“Father, father,” our children burst into the chambers and I thank the Gods we were just talking. Benji stands up and kneels down to their level. 

“Yes, my little cherubs?” he coos scooping them all into a hug.

“We want you to take us to the gardens. Vaela wants to pick flowers,” Maelor pouts. “But I want to go to the training yard.” he whines. 

“And what of you?” I hum pulling my middle child, Aelon, into my arms and I kneel next to Benji. 

“I want to go to the library.” he mumbles and Maelor scoffs. 

“Of course you do.” he sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Hey hey, we will all get along.” I scrunch my brows. “We have more than enough to do everything and more.” I hum. 

“Your mother is right.” Benji hums looking over to me. “We can each have a turn doing what we would like.” We all rise from the floor and make our way through the Keep. We spend the next couple of hours in the gardens as Vaela picks flowers and hands them to me to make a small bouquet. Our boys run around picking flowers as well and I smile watching Maelor delicately pick flowers and offer them to Vaela before sprinting down the stone path to find more. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

i had zero intentions of making this messy and emo 😔

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004

[egophiliac]

i don't think u need to worry about poppy ikemen anymore, new ride kamens character is kr kamui who is our lord and savior dan kuroto

DAN THE DANGEROUS ZOMBIE MAN!!!!!! I was SO excited when I saw the reveal, he is absolutely the funniest possible character choice hands-down. oh my god. I'm so glad he made it into this game.

also Kamui just looks incredible. instant favorite. this is the kind of man I can picture standing naked on a cliffside and screaming at everyone about his imminent ascension towards godhood. he is the incarnation of that one iconic Gina Linetti scene.

[thewriterwithnoplan]

THE WINTER KEEP (2/2)

Summary: You have fled the Red Keep, the Greens and Alicent's poison. It is time to play your hand and herald your mother's ascension on a larger scale. You will fly to Winterfell, treat with the Lord Cregan Stark and await your brother. You are weak and a girl, no longer. You are a dragon ready to spill blood to ensure your promises are kept.

[Part 2 to The Highest Tower]

Soulmate AU: Your animal familiar leads you to your soulmate.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Reader 

Word Count: 5631

Warnings: Canon typical warnings, swearing, canon divergence, my first time writing for hotd, pretty sure I'm missing something...

Masterlist

Laesuvion had taken to the skies through a hole in the dragon pit. Swift and lethal and stealthy as a white dragon against dark clouds could be. Come morning the whole of Kings Landing would know that you had fled. Come morning the usurper King and his council of snakes would be plotting your demise. You would need every advantage, every inch of distance you could gain before they found the wherewithal to send men after you. The Queen could protect you no longer, your time as her ward had passed. As Laesuvion crested the skies above the Red Keep, and you urged him north, you left just as you had arrived all those years ago. Rhaenyra’s only daughter. Her greatest supporter. Her most loyal weapon.

It took some days to fly north, you rested only once. On the second night of flying, setting down in the swamplands just beyond Greywater Watch. You swaddled yourself in your flying cloak and huddled in a hollow tree as Laesuvion hunted. Sleep came in fitful bursts, each gust of wind and animal sound convincing you that despite your head start from having flown through night and day and night again, the king's loyal men had somehow found you. You awoke around dawn to find Laesuvion’s bulk curved around your tree, his breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep. You crept toward his front claws and the charred mass caged there.

Your first food in some hours, since the day prior when you had polished off the meagre supplies you had smuggled out of the Keep. You tore charred clumps from what might have once been a deer or livestock from a nearby farm. You set these aside in case Laesuvion woke hungry, as you shredded his offering until– There, protected by the cocoon of hardened char, well-cooked meat. You gorged yourself.

You took to the skies an hour later, dehydration your greatest enemy so close to the searing sun. You wrapped your cloak around you, tied yourself firmly to the saddle and tried desperately to catch another snatch of rest. Through that morning, that evening and night, Laesuvion tore through the skies of Westeros.

You landed in the Northlands on the third dawn of your travels. The south gate of Winterfell rose to greet you, a small host of men waiting under its shelf. Dehydrated, exhausted, terrified, you could have wept with joy.

“Holt!” You startled. It was a woman.

“I mean no harm.” You dismounted Laesuvion carefully, moving purposefully to disguise your limb's feeble shakes. At eye level, though separated by a good fifty yards you repeated, “I mean you no harm.”

“Your dragon?” The woman demanded.

The men shifted nervously as Laesuvion gave a chest-deep rumbling purr. “Merely glad to have found our destination.”

“Come forward.”

“To whom do I speak?” You inched forward, Laesuvion nosing at your back.

“Sara Snow.” Up close you found Sara Snow to be very beautiful. With ebony hair twisted in intricate braids and eyelashes so long they caught snowflakes. A true northern beauty, with a sword strapped to her back and a pelt secured to her shoulders.

“I seek an audience with Lord Cregan Stark.”

“He is in a meeting with his men.”

“He will want to speak to me.” You smiled pleasantly, “He owes loyalty to my mother, the Queen.”

“House Stark owes loyalty to King Viserys.” Sara jutted her chin, “No oaths were sworn to his lady-wife.”

“You misunderstand me, Sara Snow. I speak of my mother, the Realms Delight. Queen Rhaenyra to whom Lord Rickon swore fealty.”

The men sent furtive glances to one another. Sara paused and then curtsied. “Forgive me, Princess. The North had not heard word of you for some years now, we feared you had been lost.”

“Ah, I have been kept to the Keep for some time.”

“Winterfell is most honoured to–” Sara turned.

The sound of crunching snow, hurried footsteps, quickened breath. One of Sara’s men toppled to the ground as a dire wolf barrelled through his legs. Pitch black but frosted with snow, it careened toward you. The man giving chase shouted the wolf’s name, skidded around the line of men, and stumbled to a stop mere inches in front of you. In what seemed to be perfect, practised coordination, Laesuvion jammed his snout into your back as the dire wolf danced around his owner's legs. In a heap of limbs, winter cloaks, and riding leathers, you collapsed on the man and fell to the snow.

You wheezed; the air knocked from your lungs. Your limbs shook as you scrambled up, plating a hand on the man's face as leverage.

“Sir.” You hissed; with all the royal poise you could muster. Alicent would be appalled. Your mother would be beyond amused.

“My apologies, lady.” The man grabbed your hips to lift you from him. Mortified you slapped his hands away and fought to your feet. “If you would just let me–”

You struggled, “Unhand me!”

“Here, just–” You planted a knee in his groin. He tried to curl up beneath you.

“Get off me!” You gave him a harsh shove and fumbled to your feet. “How dare–”

Sara Snow launched into raucous laughter. Hand clutching her side as she howled in delight. Her men shuffled as if wondering whether to intervene. Your assailant hobbled to his feet, one handheld protectively over his front, the other outstretched toward you as if to keep you at a distance.

You whirled toward Sara, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Apologies, lady.” The man heaved, his dire wolf prancing about his feet. “It was an honest accident. Shadow has been tense of late.”

“You let your wolf run wild in such a way?” You sneered.

“As wild as you allow your dragon to be.”

As if on cue, Laesuvion pressed the length of his head to your back again. The dire wolf herded his owner.

“Laesuvion?” You turned, pressing your freezing fingers to the scales of his nose. “Lykirī, iōrās aril.” (be calm, stay back).

He huffed and shoved at your hands. You toppled again; this time the man caught you against his chest. Laesuvion shuffled back, his tail swishing through the snow in a great arch. A growl rumbled up his throat as one of Sara’s men tried to approach.

“Ah.” The man smiled down at you in understanding.

You tried shoving at him again, but his grip held firm. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I am a wolf pup or a precious stone, or some covetous thing.”

“You are more precious than both I fear, and certainly something to covet.” He held your forearms to contain your struggle. “I have waited many years to find my Promised. I did not imagine you would be so violent.”

Sara coughed, “Welcome brother. Might I be the first to introduce you to our Princess, daughter of Rhaenyra. She has come from King’s Landing to treat with you.” She sketched a bow, her lips still trembling, “Your Highness, my brother, the Lord Cregan Stark.”

You gaped, your mouth opening and closing. A myriad of emotions warmed your face. Bone deep mortification. The purest delight. Wonderment. Utter confusion. Behind you, the dire wolf, Shadow, ran playfully around Laesuvion. Your dragon moved to face the tiny yipping creature, stealing his warm breath from your back. You shivered the cold striking through you like a physical blow.

“Princess?” Cregan Stark asked softly. “Are you well?”

“I am cold and hungry and tired, and I wish to bathe.” You said in a rush, utterly horrified with yourself.

But your Promised only smiled, “Of course.”

Cregan Stark was a most gracious host. In the hours since your arrival, you had been given quarters in the same hall as that of the Starks. A maid had gone about filling the tub in your rooms with water warmed on the fire, to which she added fragrant oils and sweet-smelling soap. As you bathed the maid returned – Atara, you learned – to ply you with cheeses and fresh bread, soft meats, and stewed root vegetables. Once you had been thoroughly scrubbed and fed, you dressed in the soft night clothes Atara had brought with her and curled up in the thick expanse of blankets atop your bed.

You were allowed to sleep for far longer than you might have suspected. Only being roused by Atara once the sun had well and truly set.

“Your Highness, Lord Stark asks that you join his family for dinner.”

You tumbled out of bed, and over to the dresser where you let her braid back your hair in the northern style. She handed you a thick winter dress that Sara had sent for you to borrow and allowed you to don it yourself. Stepping in only to tighten the taught laces at its back. You delighted in the simple joy of dressing yourself, so used to the Queen’s maids who scrubbed you raw and laced you tightly into dresses all shaded the same insidious green.  

Atara whispered to you as she led you through the halls of Winterfell, “Lord Stark is a good and generous man. He has been Warden of the North for some years now, he is a just leader and kind to those in his employ. It is his uncle, who was his regent, and his power-hungry cousins you must watch.”

“Will they be at dinner?”

“No, they are north and east in Karhold. Though his sister will be present.”

“Sara Snow. She is his sister born? I assumed the Lord was her brother-at-arms, not a true blood relative.”

“Indeed,” Atara corralled you down another cavernous hall. “She is his sister and among his most trusted advisors.”

“Why does she bear the name Snow?”

“It is the surname given to those born out of wedlock in the north.”

“And this is not an issue in the north?”

Atara considered it for a moment, “For some it is. But Lord Stark is a better man than most.”

You wondered if she had been sent to sing his praises or if the people of the north were truly so enamoured with their lord.

“Is he not married?” You asked hesitantly, the thought had not yet crossed your mind.

Atara grinned, “He is not, Your Highness.”

“Nor betrothed?”

“Nor does he have a lover.” She assured. “We servants would know.”

“Thank you, you have been most enlightening.” You smiled as you reached the Stark’s private dining hall, “I will see to myself tonight. Please, enjoy your evening.”

Atara curtsied, “Have a most wonderful night, Your Highness.”

You most certainly would.

The Starks took private dinners in a humble hall. Three places had been set at the far end of the dining table with a generous spread laid out between them. Cregan and Sara looked up from their conversation as you crossed to your seat.

“My apologies, Lord Stark, Lady Snow.” You bowed your head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”

Sara snorted into her cup, “Please, Princess, formalities are for the feasting hall and for those whose names you cannot remember.”

“Sister,” Cregan hissed.

You fought a smile, “Forgive me, Sara, I would not have you think I had forgotten your name already.”

“How does the dress fit?”

“Wonderfully,” You swished from side to side, “You are most generous.”

“I have never had a sister,” she said thoughtfully.

Cregan spluttered into his cup. You grinned, “Nor I.”

You thought only briefly of Heleana and her mother and their glittering cage.

Cregan leapt from his seat to pull yours out for you, “Please, ignore my sister, she is overly friendly.”

“Please, ignore my brother,” Sara mocked. “He is overly nervous.”

“Tis not everyday one meets their Promised.” He met your eyes fleetingly.

What a soft demeanour for the Warden of the North, you thought. Though you supposed you had smiled more today than you had in all your years in the Red Keep, so perhaps today was not a good judge of anyone’s character. You allowed him to serve up your plate as Sara kept up a steady stream of conversation. First marvelling at the fit of her dress on you, then the colour of your eyes, your hair in northern braids, your improved state after some well-needed rest.

“Is she not a sight, dear brother?” She teased.

“I apologise for my earlier state of unkempt.” You winced. You had hit the Lord of this castle, your Promised rather hard.

“I thought you looked marvellous.” Cregan argued, then seemed to realise what he’d said and hurried to add, “We have received reports that your dragon has taken to the Wolfswood.”

You exhaled slowly, “Laesuvion flew through day and night twice over to get me here so swiftly. He will be in need of food and rest as much as I.”

“Laesuvion. That is a beautiful name.” He said softly. “We can send meat if you wish?”

“He is a good hunter; he has fed himself since I was ten.”

“Still to have flown so fiercely, with so little rest…”

“It does not do well to deprive a dragon of its hunt. Especially in such times as these.”

Cregan placed his utensils down carefully, “Princess, what has brought you to Winterfell?”

You lowered your fork. Good, time to stop dancing around the subject. From the pocket of your skirt, you withdrew the King’s missive.

“I am not sure how far and fast word has travelled,” You looked to the siblings and frowned. “King Viserys is dead, and Aegon has been crowned in my mother's place. The night of his coronation Queen Alicent gave me this letter for you, Lord Stark, she wishes for us to marry.”

Cregan broke the seal of the King’s letter and read silently.

“There are worse things than to be told to marry ones Promised,” Sara joked lamely. You smiled weakly in the tense silence.

Finally, Cregan folded the letter and turned to you, “Why were you with the Queen, not with your mother on Dragonstone?”

“I have been the Queen’s ward for some nine years now.”

“And are you loyal to her?”

“As a dog is to its owner.”

“They are very loyal in the North,” Sara said.

“I was traded to her as reparations when my brother gorged her son's eye.” You said plainly, “I was her possession, but I remain my mother’s daughter.”

“House Stark swore fealty to Princess Rhaenyra when she was made heir,” Cregan watched you carefully. “There has never been a Stark who has forgotten an oath.”

“I too have made a promise to my mother. I intend to keep it.”

Cregan brandished the letter, “This offers your hand in return for the North’s neutrality in the coming conflict. Is that what you wish?”

“May I speak plainly, my lord?”

“Please.”

“That letter is likely a forgery by the Dowager Queen’s hand. She is mistaken on many fronts, I fear, the least of which was Aegon’s ascension to King. I do not wish to go to war with my kin, but if it becomes inevitable I would rather do so with strong allies and in support of my mother.”

His head tilted, “House Stark is already an ally of your mother.”

“Yes,” You folded your hands on the table. “I should tell you, Lord Stark. My mother has sworn to marry me to my Promised for my service as her spy in the Red Keep.”

“You wish us to marry?”

“I wish to offer you my hand, outside my mother’s promise or the Queen’s demands.” You cleared your throat, and just as you had carefully prepared on your journey here you said, “I have been trained in the ways of the court, I will be of use to you in councils and in handling the affairs of your territory. I am of royal breeding, you will be made Prince-Consort, our children Princes, and Princesses of the realm. I have dragon eggs for their cradles and Valyrian blood for their veins. I would ask only that you allow Laesuvion to stay with me in the North. If not, I shall wait here until such a time as my brother Jacaerys comes to treat with you, that I might return with him to Dragonstone.”

You watched the Lord, his eyes dancing with an unnamed light as he listened to you. “I will need time.”

“Of course, my Lord, speak with your advisors.”

“You misunderstand him, Princess.” Sara grinned.

Cregan smiled, “I will not marry you hastily. I will need to summon my family and prepare a feast. It is a special thing, for those of our station, to be given leave to marry our Promised.”

“I–” You were unsure what you expected. “I suppose it is.”

Sara clapped gleefully, “Shall we call for dessert?”

You wore the soft nightclothes once more as you sat at your vanity and penned your mother a letter.

Mother,

How I have missed you. Know that I have thought of you often and never strayed from my mission nor my loyalty to you.

I have fled King's Landing and taken the Lord Hands life with me. Though the smallfolk have no mind to protest whichever Targaryen collects their taxes, you have many allies in the Red Keep. I have interred a list of those Lords and Ladies who remain loyal to you as well as those I have heard of beyond and some whom we may turn with careful diplomacy.

I am at Winterfell with my Promised, Lord Cregan Stark, whom I will marry in the coming weeks. With your blessing, of course. I await Jacaerys, with news of our family and our strategy. In the meanwhile, I intend to discuss what supplies and men Winterfell may have to offer you.

Mostly I am writing to you because I can. I am overwhelmed with the freedom to do so, to be able to tell you once more how much I love you. I cannot imagine how this week has been for you, know that though we are separated I am your most fierce supporter.

I have had a thought, in my hours here, about how far Winterfell is from the capital. How far we will be if we are forced into battle and bloodshed. Perhaps you might consider sending Joffery here, to mine and my soon-to-be Lord Husband's care.

I hope you are well, Mother. I love you from the very depths of my heart.

You signed the letter with a careful flourish and set it aside. You would ask Atara where you might find a raven-master to have it sent. You touched your fingers to it softly, your first contact with your family in nearly a decade. To tell your mother that you were preparing for marriage and war.

As you blew out your candles and settled into bed, you hoped your mother would like Lord Cregan Stark.

On your fourth morning in Winterfell, you took morning tea with Sara. She had taken lengths to make you comfortable in the days since your arrival, and you took great joy in breaking your fast with her each morning. Today, you spent the early hours humming and haring over the tiny sample cakes you had been sent to taste for the upcoming feast. As you ate, Sara told you all that she could about the castle, the arriving lords, the Stark territory, and their histories.

Northern marriage traditions, you had learned, were not so different from those celebrated at King’s Landing, there would be the exchanging of cloaks and binding words spoken before gods but there would also be a hunt. Women such as yourselves would not be invited but you would find your own fun, Sara assured.

“It is tradition to have the pelts in your quarters and the meats on the feasting table.”

You lifted a citrusy cake between your thumb and forefinger, “Husband and wife share quarters here?”

“Most,” Sara said thoughtfully, “Though I’m sure Cregan would accommodate you if it is different in the south.”

“What happens if their hunt is unsuccessful?”

“I imagine there will be much embarrassment among the North, that we could not bring our Princess quarry for her wedding table.” Sara snatched the half-eaten cake from your hands and winked, “Fear not, Cregan is a good hunter.”

“If he is not,” You smiled fiendishly, “I suppose the two of us will have to find meats for the feast ourselves.”

Sara snorted, “I think my brother would be rather put out at being unable to provide you with a gift on your wedding day. But the look on his face as we return from our own hunt is almost worth it.”

You jolted, “Am I to bring him a gift?”

“You have brought him dragon eggs.”

“For our children.” You argued.

“For his heirs,” She assured, “I think he is already downtrodden at the idea of only being able to bring you fur and meat.”

“I bring only scales and fire.”

“You will be a very warm family.”

“And very well-fed.”

Sara snatched another cake from you, “Only if you keep eating all of these before I get a taste!”

You guffawed. “I am hungry, and they are so tiny!”

“They need be, so you can keep eating.”

“And I shall!”

“Your Highness, Lady Snow,” Atara curtsied as she entered, “Lord Stark has requested your presence in the courtyard.”

“Another lord has arrived?” Sara sank her teeth into another teacake. “Which house does he hail from?”

“No Lord, my Lady.” Atara looked to you uneasily, “A Prince. Of House Targaryen.”

After nearly nine years kept apart by the waters of Blackwater Bay, and three long days separated by your duties, the time had come. You caught your first look at your eldest brother as you left the comfort of the Great Keep and nearly crumpled to the ground. Sara laid a steadying hand at your shoulder as Atara whispered sweet comforts. But nothing could prepare you for the sight laid out in the courtyard.

Jacaerys, with Vermax perched atop the walls of the keep. Jacaerys, with tousled dark hair. Jacaerys, once the awkward boy you followed dutifully, now an emissary of the Queen. Jacaerys, your brother. Jacaerys, your mother’s son.

“Jacaerys!” You ran. Past Sara and Atara, past Cregan and his warning cry. You ran. Almost straight into the end of your brother’s sword. You pulled to a halt, the blade a whisper away from your sternum, “Jacaerys?”

“Sister,” He sneered. “How far you are from your castle.”

“I have escaped.”

“You have been sent as an emissary of the usurper and his cunt-mother.”

“She did not tell you?” Your arms slumped at your side. “Mother sent me as a spy, she and Daemon trusted me to–”

“Her trust was misplaced. You have betrayed us.”

“I have come here to rally the North for our mother’s claim, just as you have.”

“You have come here to better your station.”

“I am a Princess.” You hissed, confused, and insulted.

“You are Princess of nothing, of no house.”

“I am of House Targaryen,” You pressed forward until the tip of his sword tore through the bodice of your dress and blood welled. You turned, held out your hand and gave Cregan a pleading look, he shifted but stayed back. “I am Princess of loyalty, of oaths and duty. I have come to the North to escape the Greens, to tell our mother, the Queen, all that I have discovered these years.”

“Where was loyalty,” Jacaerys shook with rage. “When they dragged us before the Iron Throne and called our mother a whore and our brothers bastards? Where was duty, when Lucerys was nearly stripped of his birthright? Where were you when Laenor died? When Rhaenys flew to our mother's side to tell her of–”

“Our father is dead?” You whispered.

“Your father is Daemon.” He growled under his breath.

You reeled back, “My father is Laenor Velaryon.”

“It is Daemon. He told us so himself when he married Mother.”

“Daemon and mother are married?”

His sword sagged slightly, “The Greens did not tell you? What of Viserys and Aegon?”

“Our grandsire and uncle?”

Jacaerys looked pained, “Our brothers.”

You fell to your knees, shoved your face in your hands and wept. Jacaerys jerked his sword backward and staggered away from you as Cregan rushed to your side.

“Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm over you. “What is the matter?”

“The question of Driftmark’s succession,” Jacaerys stared at you in horror. “Where were you?”

“I did not know!” You sobbed. “I did not know!”

“Otto Hightower said you would not see us, that you felt abandoned and betrayed when Mother gave you to the Greens.”

Cregan pulled you closer to him as Jacaerys inched forward. He growled, “Stand back. You have no enemies among the Starks. Do not make one.”

“I went willingly, for mother, for Lucerys.” You glared up at your brother. “You watched me! I traded my life; you watched me do it!”

“Otto Hightower–”

“Is dead!” You bared your teeth. “I fled King’s Landing, and I killed the man who usurped our mother, and you as her heir. I am loyal, I am steadfast, I am your greatest supporter as heir.”

“Tis true.” Cregan attested. “She has come to the North in support of your mother's claim. She has offered her hand to me, and we have talked much of giving your mother’s children sanctuary here.”

“You are betrothed?” Jacaerys whispered.

“I am.” You said proudly.

Cregan smiled at you softly, “The North is yours, my Prince. So long as my Promised wills it.”

“Sister.” Was all Jacaerys could say. “Sister.”

“Come,” Cregan lifted you to your feet. “My betrothed will catch a cold out here, let us speak inside.”

.

Cregan sat you gently by the fire swaddling you in the great expanse of his cloak. Sara brought tea to your side while your brothers sat at the other end of the room to discuss politics.

“Did you hear?”

Sara blew on her cup, “I heard a lot.”

“Did you hear what he said about my father?”

“That you lost one? Or that…” She pursed her lips.

“That I am Daemon’s bastard.”

“I did.”

“Do you think Cregan heard?” You burrowed into his cloak.

She gave you a secret smile, “Does it matter? You are a Princess, twice over. And Cregan keeps me around, does he not?”

“I only meant…” You turned away. “I fear he may think me liable to follow in my mother’s footsteps.”

“Will you?”

You stared at her, “Cregan has been kind to me, listened to me, protected me – given me more than anyone has ever offered me. And he is my Promised. Why should I stray from him?”

“Then there is no reason to fret.”

“And the King’s Hand?”

“What of him?”

“I killed him.” You half hid your face in your teacup.

“Do you regret it?” Sara asked curiously. “It is no small thing, to kill a man.”

“He has haunted my family for generations. I would do it again.”

Sara shrugged, “Then we will speak no more of it, justice has been served. I’m sure Cregan will more than agree.”

“Will he?”

“He has been forced to make decisions even further North of here, at the wall.” She took a long sip of tea and stared into the flames. “Some even I do not agree with. But we are family, and he is your Promised. So, it does not matter, does it?”

“No.” You stared into your cup. “I suppose not.”

“Princess!” The man in question came over with a charming grin, “Your brother has offered to escort you at our wedding.”

Jacaerys looked at you timidly, “If you will have me, sister.”

You looked first to Cregan who nodded, and then to Jacaerys with a soft smile. “Of course, brother. Nothing would please me more.”

The letter from your mother arrived another four days later. It came to you clutched in Jacaerys’ hand with the seal broken. He had caught the raven just south of Winterfell as he, Cregan and the Northmen returned from the ceremonial hunt.

“I apologise, sister, I have never been accused of being patient.”

You scoffed, “Some things do not change.”

“Indeed,” Jacaerys said rather gravely. “I must ask a small favour of you before I give you this letter. It is on behalf of myself and our mother.”

You straightened, “Of course brother.”

“You will not open it until after you have been blissfully wedded to Lord Stark.” He paused at your dubious look, “Mother has words she wishes to share only after your wedding. Congratulations and such.”

“I suppose that is agreeable.” You took the letter carefully, “Though we require her blessings to move forward.”

“And you have them.” He tapped the letter. “In there. You shall marry your Promised tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

And so, you married him that night.

The Godswood was eerie in the darkness of night. Though lit by the torches of countless Northmen, it felt as if the darkness were reaching cool unnatural fingers toward your procession. Coaxing you, in your red-black Maiden Cloak toward the foot of the weirwood heart tree, where your Lord-Promised, his uncle, and the dire wolf Shadow wait. Jacaerys held your hand tightly as if frightened to let you go. Around you, Lords and honoured guests planted their torches in the snow, lighting the way for you and your brother. The wind whistled through the silence, broken only by the great rumbling in Laesuvion’s chest where he perched on the lip of the keep’s gate.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Called Bennard Stark.

Jacaerys whispered your name, then cleared his throat in embarrassment and announced it proudly, "Daughter of the House Targaryen, comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Cregan, of House Stark,” Your Promised sent you a small secret smile, “Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Who gives her?"

"Jacaerys, of the House Velaryon, who is her brother and Prince." Jacaerys gave your hand a firm squeeze as he gave you to Cregan.

"Princess,” Lord Bennard made an admirable effort to say your name without disdain, “Will you take this man?"

You took Cregan’s large warm hands in your own and smiled, “I take this man.”

Silently, hands joined, you knelt to the cold earth. Around you, the Lords of the North fell to their knees and bowed their heads in deference. Foreheads pressed together, you and Cregan offered silent prayers to the Old Gods. When you stood as one, Sara was there in her uncle's place, a cloak of thick, luscious fur in the silver-grey of House Stark.

You tipped your head back as Cregan fiddled with the ties of your Maiden’s Cloak. You smiled at the sky as he struggled gently against your neck. Finally, it loosened, there was a brief shock of cold and then there was wonderous heat, the furred collar tickling your chin. You look to Cregan then, donned in his colours, wrapped in his protection. You smile softly at one another and lean into a soft kiss.

The black sky lights up with swashes of red as Laesuvion spits fire at the stars.

All at once sound returns to the Godswood as the witnesses of your nuptials cheer, chief among them is your brother. You laugh in delight as Cregan grips your cheeks and plants another kiss on your lips. Shadow yips at your heels as your husband sweeps you up into his arms and carries you toward the Great Hall.

He whispers sweet promises for your future, and you have never been more grateful to know how fiercely a Stark is at keeping their word.

It was the wolf’s hour when the festivities swelled through the Great Hall and you found yourself drawn to a quiet corner. You excused yourself from your husband by pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. He smiled softly at you and trailed his fingers from yours as you walked toward the hearth roaring at the far end of the hall. You pulled your mother's letter from your pocket and pressed your fingers against her seal as if you could fuse the two halves back into a whole. She and Jacaerys would not mind, you were sure, it was your wedding day after all, and you craved an inch of your mother’s presence.

You unfolded her letter and read:

My dearest girl,

I have never doubted you and I do not do so now.

You have my blessings. Marry the Lord Cregan Stark and take joy in your Promised. I will entrust Baela and Rhaena to bring your young brothers into your care.

You have served me well, which is why I write to you now, though my heart tells me to spare you.

Aemond has taken Lucerys’ life. War has come.

You looked up gripping the letter until your fingers drew indents in the paper and made desperate eye contact with Jacaerys’ pained face. A sound halfway between a scream and a sob tore from your throat, drowned by the thundering roar of Laesuvion overhead. Cregan stood, fighting to stumble his way toward you, as the walls of Winterfell rattled with your fury.

Nine years you had spent in the Red Keep, learning your enemies inside and out. Carefully ushering pieces across a board too vast for you to comprehend, hoping desperately you could stop a war conceived long before you. It all narrowed to this moment. Wrapped in the cloak of your husband’s house, framed by the hearth fire, as your dragon raged above.

Your Brother. Your Dragon. Your Husband.

By Blood. By Fire. By the Old God’s Promise.

You would avenge your brother and bring war to the Greens.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 5: Brothers and Sisters

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: The brothers discuss the sisters. Nyra has more relevant information. Newborn shadows are adorable.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

Cassian was almost always the first to rise. He had a strict training regimen to follow and he would only compromise when there was no choice. For now, he figured he could still go over his training as long as he had a good glamour in place and an open space. With no shame whatsoever, he lifted the blankets off Azriel.

“Good morning, brother dearest!” The General was awfully cheery despite their current predicament. Azriel began to suspect that Cassian would now do anything and everything to get on Nesta's nerves even if it meant greeting him like the sun shone out of the shadowsinger's ass.

Azriel greeted him with nothing but a glare and the newborn shadows striking Cassian as if to punch him but they only felt like peanuts being pelted. The shadows had felt the need to tell him everything and explore everything. Consequently, the shadowsinger had to stay awake all night to rein them in lest they enter one of the females’ rooms and start reporting anything inappropriate. He had a suspicion that Nyra would be the primary target if these shadows had freedom to move around. Regardless of his restless night, he rose from bed and agreed to train.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, its rays kissing the snow. They were out of the room, walking towards the staircase when they spotted Elain dressed and holding a towel to dry her hair. She hummed a tune they recognised as the same one Nyra hummed for Feyre yesterday. While Cassian did little to quieten his footsteps, Azriel always had a silent presence. The sounds the General made alerted Elain and she looked up at them. Her freshly bathed skin that had been rosy just now seemed to pale.

"Good morning." Cassian grinned. The whole of Elain's body jolted at the greeting but she returned with a softer one of her own.

"Are there any large clearings around? We would like to train." Azriel's tone was much more gentler, having known that this sister was still wary of them.

Elain nodded. "To the east, there is a forest. There might be something there." She realized that the sisters were now very vulnerable without servants or guards in the estate. And without these fae around to protect them, they would probably be easy prey for anyone. She scurried back into her room and slammed the door too loudly. The salty scent of tears from behind the door to her room had Azriel and Cassian leaving immediately. They did not know how to react to a crying human female.

Cassian and Azriel soon exited the house, glamoured. They flew towards the forest Elain mentioned and found a suitable spot. They landed, removed their armour to be bare chested and began.

"So." The way Cassian drawled made Azriel realize that his brother was going to pester him about something. He remained quiet, knowing that Cassian would take the liberty to continue anyway.

"What are those?" The general's question resulted in a raised eyebrow. "Those shadows. You left yours behind and these are new." The conversation did not interrupt the clash of their swords.

"Shadows born during dinner last night." Azriel offered.

His answer seemed to be too short for Cassian. "Is there ever a trigger for new ones to be born?"

"Maybe." Azriel replied, irritated. Cassian looked unconvinced. "They are born when something significant happens. When I was in that cell," Both of them darkened at the mention of Azriel's imprisonment during his childhood. "Our oath of brotherhood. Becoming Carynthian. And so on."

Meeting all the Archeron sisters could be a significant event. Rhysand spoke into their minds.

"Possibly." Azriel did not think further but he saw the grin on Cassian's face. He was thinking of Nesta and the challenge between them. It was a dangerous game.

Try not to provoke Nesta Archeron. She might skin you alive. Rhysand's voice carried his mirth from a conversation he had with Feyre the previous night.

"Her twin is more amiable." Cassian noted as he defended against a strong strike.

That, she is. Rhysand sounded a little hopeful. Elain Archeron is perhaps more human than her sisters.

"Because she's afraid of us?" Cassian asked.

Her fear is what we expected from the twins. Clearly, they are not afraid. Nesta is annoyed by our presence and Nyra doesn't mind. Cassian grinned again. Nesta was most annoyed by him and it thrilled him immensely. Or maybe, the significant event right now is meeting Nyra Archeron. The way Rhysand said the word ‘significant’ had a teasing note that Cassian picked up. The General grinned and the Spymaster knew without another word what his brother might be thinking of.

"Whatever stupidity you are thinking of, stop." Azriel spoke with another strong strike. He landed a hit to Cassian's hand and caused him drop his sword. The shadowsinger abandoned his sword and readied his fists.

No more than that, you two. There is no need to frighten hosts with any more of your bloodied and bruised selves. Rhysand spoke. The two of them halted hesitantly.

"We continue in Velaris." Cassian grinned wildly at Azriel's declaration. He was already anticipating the rush their next sparring session would bring.

Your shadows certainly seem to think that meeting Nyra is a matter of significance. Azriel simply ignored the nosy High Lord he had as a brother while he wore his armour. He did not want to expect anything. He was already waiting for... And that was when it struck him. And Rhysand, who was still loitering around his brothers' minds to continue conversation, heard that thought. It could be a possibility.

Wishful thinking, Rhys. Azriel now spoke mentally. Cassian who was still linked to them heard all of it. He clapped on Azriel's shoulder once and asked. "But what if it is true?" It was the possibility of Azriel's mate, Rhysand's sister, reincarnating. Of the Bone Carver's prophecy finally coming true.

I dreamed of Feyre even before I ever met her. Even when I was under the mountain. Rhysand spoke of something he had yet to divulge to anyone else. It was a hope he wished Azriel would have. What were the odds that Rhys would meet his mate in a human who had been turned fae, for new shadows to be born when Azriel and Nyra met for the first time, and for Cassian to be drawn to a female who shared the same fighting spirit?

Hope is dangerous. Azriel warned. He looked over to Cassian who now frowned.

Says the one who has been waiting for five centuries. Cassian's voice was a bit low but still not low enough. He had made his point. Azriel's wings unfolded and he prepared for flight. After noting when the winds were convenient for him, he took off without a glance at Cassian who soon followed.

There is a possibility of your waiting period coming to an end, Az. Cassian sounded kind now. All the teasing had ceased and now, it was genuine.

And Azriel wanted to hope. So badly. He was needy. Ever since he discovered that he did not face the same symptoms as others whose mates had died, he resolved to wait. There must have been a reason his sanity survived. That he survived. The inside of him was numb and hollow and he waited for life to be breathed into him. Waiting to be woken up from some deep slumber his soul had gone into. And he returned to the Archeron estate with his brother with a confusion haunting him.

****

In the house, Rhysand and Feyre ran into Nesta at the living room. "I'm preparing breakfast." Nesta simply announced. "It will be ready in an hour." She turned on her skirts and headed to the kitchen.

Nesta looked around the kitchen and gathered the ingredients for a meal and then remembered Feyre's distaste for human food. She looked around for anything that her youngest sister could possibly consume.

"Nesta." Feyre's voice caught her attention but she did not turn around.

"Yes?" That one word was the only acknowledgement Nesta offered and Feyre took it.

"The letter is ready." Feyre placed the letter on the kitchen slab, a little further from the ingredients gathered and right next to a large vessel containing something hidden by a lid. "It's near this copper vessel."

"All right. I'll send it after breakfast."

"Thank you." Feyre turned around and was about to join Rhysand who was waiting for her just outside the door when Nesta called her name. "Yes?"

"Can you eat bread?" The question was an awkward one and invited more awkwardness between them. "Or rice?"

"I think I can eat rice." Feyre smiled just a bit for the sister who was clearly very unfamiliar at extending an olive branch. Nesta hummed and Feyre took that as a sign to join Rhys outside the room.

What Feyre did not expect was to see Rhysand and Nyra standing outside the door, next to each other, with their backs to the wall and staring at the ground. Rhys had just finished conversing with Cassian and Azriel while simultaneously sharing a moment of silence with Nyra as the two of them eavesdroppped outside the kitchen.

"That was... well..." There were never any words to describe any such interactions between Feyre and Nesta. The two of them barely got along with each other for most of their life and it seemed that was how it would remain.

A knock sounded at the door, alarming them.

"I'll get it." And Nyra walked away before anyone could say anything. Rhys and Feyre shared a glance, the former nodding once before casting a glamour on them. They risked a peak at Nesta who was busy with breakfast. Elain was nowhere around and surely, a fae couldn't answer the door.

As Nyra approached the door, Rhys and Feyre were just behind, ready to strike at anyone. The High Lord had already cast an invisible shield on Nyra and when she opened the door, it was just a man carrying letters.

"Post for the Archer..." He paused upon meeting Nyra. Nobody had ever met Nyra. She was somewhat of a myth and a reality only to those who ever truly met her. "Mrs. Laurent?"

"Is away for a bit. I'll take that." And she snatched the letters from the man's hand. The man continued to stare at her and when she finally noticed that, she frowned. "Yes?"

"Who are you?" The confusion was understandable. As the one with ill health, Nyra never opened the door in Mrs. Laurent's absence. It was either Nesta or Elain. She was always confined to the first floor where her bedroom, the library and their father's office were.

"An Archeron."

"I mean, who-"

"If you have something to say, please be quick. I have a life to get back to." It felt good saying that. Nyra had to constantly remind herself that she was recovering, somewhat. And if everything went well, she would be healthy again to enjoy life outside the house in a year or two. If they lived through this war.

"Nothing." The man blushed. He raised his hat once. "Good day!" And he ran away.

Nyra closed the door and started looking through the letters when she noticed Feyre and Rhysand.

"Are men usually like that with you?" Feyre asked, thoroughly amused at what she had just seen.

"The only man I meet is father and that is not often." She was still going through the letters when one of them caught her eye. She discarded the others on the nearest side table and ripped the envelope open. She skimmed through the contents of the letter.

"We have bad news." She looked at them. They immediately took a seat at the couch nearby and waited eagerly. She joined them, taking a seat on the opposite couch. "Vassa has been sighted on a ship headed for north from the Continent. She was unconscious and accompanied by the guards of one of the older queens."

"How do you think this will impact our negotiations?" Rhysand wanted to be prepared even if this was a losing battle. There was never any positive information related to the negotiations.

"Vassa is protective of her people. Therefore, she is more understanding despite what we’ve been taught about the fae." Nyra looked defeated.

"What about the others?"

"The older ones are highly prejudiced. They fund the Children of the Blessed from time to time who then spread those stories about the fae. And it seems like they are scheming something." Nyra rested her back on the sofa and craned her neck upwards. She closed her eyes and then suddenly opened them and leaned forward. "The other one. The golden one, is our best bet now."

Rhys rested his back and crossed his arms across his chest. "Why do you still think she would be our best bet?"

"Demetra is unpredictable. But that makes her the most dangerous bet."

The next moment, a swarm of shadows crawled into the room through the gap between the door and its frame. They seemed to swim as they moved towards Nyra. The shadows gathered in front of her and a tendril moved forward slowly as if waiting for her permission to touch her. Nyra extended a hand forward and the tendril gently wrapped itself around her little finger. More tendrils followed and both her hands were now engulfed by the shadows.

The clearing of a throat had the three of them turned to Nesta who had just entered the room. At the same moment, a sweaty Cassian and Azriel entered the room. Nesta did not even look at the General and all the frustration he tried to control by sparring hit him in the chest once again. She looked at Azriel and nodded in acknowledgement. The shadowsinger nodded back. She then looked at Nyra, Feyre and Rhysand and then at the letters.

“Good morning to the sweaty people with the most wonderful body odour.” Nyra sounded playful in a manner that reminded Feyre what about her older sister she had been missing. The wild humour she carefully concealed and had glued the sisters together. It was something, she realized with all the horror, that Nyra shared with Rhysand to an extent. Cassian might also share the same humour, maybe more than Rhys did. Azriel probably did not, or maybe he did. “Pray tell, why couldn’t you wait till breakfast for an adventurous tumble in the forests?”

Cassian grinned in delight. “We couldn’t wait for the inevitable. Right, Az?” He rested an arm on the shadowsinger’s shoulder. Azriel looked back at him with disbelief and mild disgust. “Maybe, after breakfast, we might continue. Would you be inclined to join us?”

Cassian’s blatant flirting and invitation raised enough eyebrows. The shadows playing with Nyra’s hands froze and then almost immediately enveloped her in their embrace, curling around her hair, hands, waist. Azriel’s silent command to them to behave was as lethal as he was. With a formidable glare, the shadows retreated from the girl and he walked forward.

“Are you alright?” He knelt by her side. His voice was gentle, like the caress of his shadows. “They won’t bother you anymore.” He wanted to vomit on Cassian for inviting Nyra. Why would these idiots tease him about her? And why would he even suggest such a thing even if she was the one who started this playful conversation?

“I’m fine. They felt nice.” Nyra replied with equal softness. She felt herself warm up under the shadowsinger's intense gaze. Before she felt any longer like she had a fever, Nyra turned to Cassian with mirth in her eyes. Azriel was too beautiful for her to look at for too long. “I’m not inclined to join anyone with that stench.”

Cassian laughed heartily. He walked forward and rested his hands on the backrest of Nyra’s couch. “Maybe after breakfast and a bath?”

“Who knows?” Nyra’s gaze then turned to Azriel. She shifted to one end of the sofa, clearing up for him. “Sit down. I suppose this sofa is large enough for your wings?” It was not but Azriel could care less. He nodded and tucked in his wings before sitting down next to her. It was uncomfortable but he was closer to her and his shadows were happy now. He saw the letter in her hand. She followed his gaze and frowned. Nesta noticed the piece of parchment.

"Please tell me you didn't write another letter." The shadows seemed startled at Nesta's words. They froze for a second before swimming towards Nyra. Azriel held up his hand and effectively collected them to stop the female sitting next to him from being startled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Nyra's mirth seemed to be calming for the shadows. Azriel watched her and the shadows. The little bastards had abandoned him as soon as the two of them were in the same room. They constantly fawned over Nyra even when he had commanded them to separate from her. Impatient little snakes. With Azriel kneeling before Nyra and his shadows now with him, they were still a little closer to her than they were when he had previously banished them. Warm. Lovely. Weakened.

Nesta almost stomped over to Nyra, took the letter from her lap and asked. "Do you think I don't know what you've been doing? It might not be safe for you to be using father's seal like this." Nesta then proceeded to glare at the shadows as she took a seat on the armrest.

Azriel had been hearing the shadows describe Nyra’s hands. Soft. Pretty. Weakened. And then he heard them hiss when Nesta made her appearance. Their hisses were turning into growls. Azriel began to understand that the newborns felt like Nesta was a threat to Nyra from the expression she wore.

"We're probably going to die so if using a seal is going to somehow prevent that then I don't mind."

"And handwriting forgery."

"It's a necessary skill." Nyra looked at Nesta like the latter had said something unnecessary. As if she was questioning why it was even up for debate that handwriting forgery was a necessary skill.

"As necessary as picking locks?"

"You know its significance."

Nesta went quiet and then sighed. The twins had travelled back to their childhood for a few seconds before Nesta brought them back with her words. "Have some breakfast before you write to your little network of spies."

Azriel shifted his gaze from the shadows playing with Nyra’s hands to her face. It was difficult to believe that this ill female had any connections to the world outside her home. And here was Nesta, recalling that she would communicate with others and have her own network. As the spymaster of the Night Court, that piqued his interest.

"I do not have a network of spies." The shadows were attentive of her actions and ready to obey. They were now disobeying their master and were perched on her shoulders and arms and the skirts of her gown. They even hid behind her hair and Nyra did not seem to mind that she was now highlighted by them.

"You forge father's handwriting, use his seal, write letters to god knows who, get replies, knows things nobody knows, and keep your sources a secret. You have a spy network." Nesta’s revelations had Feyre widening her eyes. The youngest sister looked between the twins in utter shock. Rhysand smirked next to her and initiated a conversation with his lovely mate mind-to-mind.

"That is absurd." Nyra was not even trying to hide her amusement at the entire situation. She was one statement away from laughing. "I do not spy."

"You get others to spy. I've read your letters and I'm going to read this one too." Nesta's gaze had steeled as she read through the contents of the letter and she then set it aside as everyone settled. "Is this-"

"A reliable source." Nyra spoke. She sounded tired of all that she knew at the moment. Nothing seemed to be on their side. They had nobody by their side except for each other but that was clearly not enough.

The shadows headed towards Nesta, took the letter from her hand and placed it on Nyra's lap. "Thank you." She whispered. Azriel was now more than curious. He wondered if the shadows would obey if she asked for anything. Warm. Lovely. Home.

Feyre found that this picture was a precious one. Azriel and Nyra sitting on the sofa. Cassian behind it reading the letter Nesta held as she settled herself on the armrest. And she could cry at this. This painting that she now desperately wanted to paint. The four of them seemed to fit perfectly into each other’s pieces. And Feyre raised a hand to her mouth to bite on the sleeve. She was close to crying. Too close. And if the situation was different, if there was no war looming over them, then maybe, Feyre would paint this. And it was a promise to herself. A small tattoo inked itself on her chest. Two swords. One with fire and one with lightning crossed against each other.

"For now, Feyre darling and I will be off to practice a little magic." Rhysand stood up, picked on some non-existent lint on his blazer and extended a hand out to Feyre. She simply stood up, ignoring his flirty grin and looked at Nyra.

"We'll figure it out." It was odd. To receive reassurance from her younger sister. And yet, Nyra felt like she could breathe a little easily. Nesta was still rattled by reality and clutched Nyra's hand like a lifeline.

"We'll be back in half an hour." Rhys clapped his hands on his brothers' backs and then looked at them. "You stink."

"It’s part of the appeal.” Cassian turned to Nesta with a grin and winked playfully.

"You reek." Nesta spoke with convincing indifference before realizing that she had given Cassian attention. She saw his grin widening and the horror rising in her mind made her flee to the kitchen.

****

“Do either of you feel something different about the food here?” Nyra asked. The shadows were being ticklish now and she did not want to laugh in the middle of carrying plates. “Azriel, could you reign in the shadows for a bit? They’re being ticklish.” The shadowsinger blushed and nodded.

Newborn shadows were easy to command as he was naturally intimidating. His command had them retreating back to him where they found home on his shoulders, on his back, all over his wings. He had been used to the shadows’ touch all over him for so long that he felt out of place without them. Having these newborns eased that feeling that would be completely gone only when he returned to Velaris and the older shadows joined him.

“I’ve had worse.” Cassian began and Azriel closed his eyes with a defeated sigh.

“What he means is, there’s a difference but we don’t mind it.” The spymaster’s attempt was mainly to calm Nesta before the storm within her raged over Cassian.

“Then you may carry your own food to the mortal lands any time you deem to visit.” Nesta was clearly not calmed even at Azriel’s attempts. He looked at Nyra who sighed. She looked back at him and shook her head and a silent indication to be quiet with a finger to her lips.

“Are you inviting me back to your home?” Cassian asked, his bright grin taking over. Nesta blanched at the interpretation Cassian had somehow lead her words to. She glared at him but said nothing. He continued pestering her, picking up a spoon to taste the freshly cooked soup. She cleared her throat from behind him, armed with a glare and a very sharp knife that had a startled Cassian dropping the spoon.

While Nesta and Elain took over the kitchen and Cassian insisting on being wherever Nesta was, Azriel and Nyra were in the dining room with the crockery.

“Is it always like this?” Nyra gazed up from where she was standing near a chair with spoons in her hand. Azriel went blank for a moment and then she responded to his question.

“It wasn’t. Back when we were children, Elain and Feyre were left on their own while Nesta and I were groomed to navigate the social circles for husbands.”

Nyra sounded like she did not like speaking about it. Azriel picked up on that and spoke. “It is fine if you do not wish to speak of it.”

She turned around and looked at him for a few seconds before speaking. “It is a part of our past. I prefer to delude myself into thinking that it’s a story than a reality we once lived in.” She moved forward to the next seat to put a spoon. “Then, life happened. I fell ill. Grandmother died. Then our mother. Father lost his riches. Feyre going out hunting. Those two fae and their brainwashing magic on Elain and father. Life without Feyre. Wealth. My improving health. Elain’s engagement. And now, this.” By then, Nyra had placed all the spoons. Azriel had placed all the forks as he circled the table behind Nyra.

“All of it changed something in our family. For Nesta, it was like she had to weather so many storms all at once.” She turned around to face him but Azriel’s long strides resulted in him and Nyra colliding. He helped her regain her balance by holding one of her hands while she had used the other to grab the nearest chair. “Thank you.”

Breakfast was ready in an hour. Cassian had put in all his efforts into annoying Nesta. She slapped the General's hand away whenever he tried to taste anything, not understanding the warmth blooming within her. Azriel quietly helped Nyra and Elain before he froze for a few seconds. He walked closer to Nyra who looked at him in confusion.

"Take care." He sounded a little hesitant and his shadows were actively protesting against leaving her. Azriel gently took Nyra's hand, lifted it, bowed and kissed her knuckles. His final wish for her to take care of herself was a sincere one that she felt in her nerves as he kissed her hand. "If fate wills it, we shall meet again." Before Nyra could ask him anything, the shadows enveloped him in darkness and Azriel was no longer in the house.

“Stay inside.” Cassian suddenly commanded. “It’s not safe out there.” His red siphons were glowing faintly. Nesta wondered how the glow of the siphons and his attentive posture had suddenly made Cassian more beautiful. She found no reason to look away. The more she looked at him, the more she wanted to look at him even more for the mere reason that he was there. Standing in her line of sight. Breathing. Existing. And just being so beautiful.

Rhysand and Feyre joined them and the absence of the shadowsinger immediately attracted a question from Nyra. "Where is Azriel?"

"He will not be joining us for breakfast. He has something urgent to attend to." Feyre diplomatically answered and the implication of something bad did not go missed. Breakfast passed with a dark cloud looming over everyone.

The letters were delivered and a glamour was cast on the estate. Rhysand had Azriel send over guards to protect the mortal sisters and informed them of the same. Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand then bid farewell and left for Prythian.

****

TAGLIST: @waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92 @bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere

[targtowerxstark]

Love in Disguise - Cregan Stark x Targtower reader.

requested by anon🫶🏼. send requests!

summary:The princess escapes kings landing after the death of her father and goes to the North. Cregan stumbles upon her “an orphaned woman” in the woods and allows her to work as a servant. As time goes on he becomes suspicious of her formal talk and graceful manner. All the while chaos is erupting in the realm as their princess is missing. Will Cregan soon discover her secret?….

In the early hours of the morning the cold winds howled through the halls of the castle as Princess y/n sat in her chamber, the weight of her father’s death pressing heavily on her heart. The news had shattered her world, yet the small council chamber buzzed with discussions of Aegon’s ascension to the throne, a celebration that felt grotesque in the shadow of her loss.

“How can they be so indifferent?” she whispered to herself, tears stinging her eyes.

Just then, her brother Aemond entered, concern etched on his face.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “I know it’s hard, but we must think of the future. Aegon’s reign will secure our family.”

His words offered little comfort, and as the night deepened, she felt an overwhelming urge to escape the suffocating reality. With a heavy heart, she ran to the dragon pit where her dragon, a magnificent creature named Valyra, awaited her.

"We must leave this place," she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency.

"We will not be a pawn in their game," she murmured to herself Valyra responded with a low growl, sensing her distress.

Together, they soared into the night sky, the wind whipping through her hair as they flew towards the North, far from the treachery of King's Landing. Leaving behind the kingdom that had turned its back on her grief, seeking solace in the farthest reaches of the North.

The biting cold of the North wrapped around the Princess as she descended from her dragon, her Valyrian features hidden beneath a shawl that shielded her from the chill. The forest loomed ahead, a maze of trees and shadows, and she ventured forth in search of sticks to kindle a fire. As she gathered her meager supplies, she was startled by the sound of hooves approaching. Cregan Stark, riding alongside his young son Rickon, noticed her instantly, his keen eyes recognizing the beauty that marked her as different.

“You there,” he called, his voice formal yet curious. “What brings you to these woods?” Y/n hesitated, her heart racing. “I am but an orphan, sir, with no family to claim,” she replied, her words flowing with a refinement that caught his attention. Cregan's expression softened, sensing her vulnerability. “You are welcome to stay at my castle. I could use an extra pair of hands You can help in the kitchens," he replied, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye.

On her first day, Y/n quickly discovered that her skills as a princess did not translate well to servant duties. As she fumbled with pots and pans, Cregan watched with a mix of amusement and concern. "You’re not very good at this, are you?" he teased, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I’m afraid not," she admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "But I can help in other ways. I can read and write, and I know much about dragons. If you please my lord I would be of more use to sweep or clean"

A week had passed since y/n had started her new life at Cregan’s castle, and despite her lack of skill, her grace and kindness shone through. Now away from her kitchen duties she swept the floors, the maester conducted lessons for young Rickon. “Dragons are fearsome beasts that only obey the strongest,” he droned, but y/n’s brow furrowed. “Actually, Balerion the Black Dread was known for his loyalty to Aegon, and his strength was matched only by his wisdom,” she interjected, her voice steady and confident. Cregan, who had been observing from a distance, raised an eyebrow at her unexpected knowledge. The maester faltered, and Rickon’s eyes widened in fascination as y/n continued, recounting tales of Aegon and his sister wives. Cregan’s suspicion deepened; this orphan was unlike any he had encountered before in both her unique features and her graceful manner.

As days turned into weeks, Cregan grew fond of her. y/n’s kindness and intelligence shone through her humble facade, and she quickly formed a bond with Rickon. "Teach me how to read!" Rickon pleaded one afternoon, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/n grinned, pulling out a piece of parchment. "How about we play hangman? It’ll be fun!"

Rickon laughed, and soon they were engrossed in the game, Y/n’s laughter ringing through the halls of Winterfell. Cregan watched from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. "She’s just a servant," he reminded himself, but the way Rickon looked at her made it hard to deny the bond they shared.

At night, y/n would sneak away to care for Valyra, hiding the dragon in a secluded glen. The creature’s presence was a constant reminder of her true identity, and she felt the weight of her secret pressing down on her. She would often sit beside Valyra, whispering her fears and dreams. "I can’t go back to that life," she confessed one evening. "But I can’t let them find you, either."

Cregan sat in his study the next night while y/n dusted the frames around the room, the fire crackled softly beside him, but his mind was elsewhere. Thoughts of the new maid, y/n, danced through his head, her laughter echoing in his ears. He tried to focus on the parchment before him, but the words blurred together. He couldn’t focus on anything but her infront of him. Just as he began to open his mouth to speak to her, the maester entered, interrupting.

“My lord, a raven has arrived from King’s Landing,” he announced, handing over the message. Cregan quickly scanned the letter, his heart sinking at the news. “To whom it may concern,” it began, “I write to inform you that my dear sister is missing. A reward will be granted to anyone who can find her.” Cregan organised a group to search the surrounding land with him so he could send a raven back. As he searched the land, Cregan couldn’t shake the feeling that y/n was more than just a servant.

The next day, Cregan prepared for a ride with Rickon, but the young boy had other plans. “Can the new maid come with us?” he pleaded, his eyes wide with hope. “I don’t want to go if she isn’t there!” Cregan chuckled at Rickon’s stubbornness, realizing how much the boy had taken to her. “Very well, I’ll fetch her,” he replied, heading off to find y/n. When he located her, he said, “Rickon insists you join us for a ride. He’s rather fond of you.” y/n smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I wouldn’t want to be a bother,” she teased. “But if it means keeping Rickon happy, I suppose I could manage.” As they walked back together, Cregan found himself drawn to her humor and wit, his heart warming with every shared glance.

The three of them rode through the woods, Rickon demanded he share a saddle with y/n , his hands latched upon hers which were holding the reins with excitement. He was as attached to her as a newborn to its mothers chest. Cregan observed the bond between them, a mix of amusement and fondness swelling within him. Suddenly, a deep rumble echoed through the trees, reminiscent of a dragon’s call. “Wait here I should see what’s happening,” Cregan suggested, but as he turned, y/n panicked, she had to distract him, she quickly banged her elbow against a sharp rock and let out a sigh of pain “Are you alright?” he asked, rushing to her side. She winced, revealing a small cut on her arm, but instead of concern, a playful glint appeared in her eyes. “Just a scratch, m’lord but maybe we should return to winterfell,” she replied, attempting to take his attention away for her dragon. As he took her hand to inspect the wound, a strand of silver hair slipped from her shawl. He instinctively tucked it behind her ear, feeling a warmth spread through him. “You should be more careful,” he murmured, but she playfully responded, “No, m’lord, it’s cold is all.” The tension in the air shifted, leaving both of them acutely aware of the closeness between them.

Later that night, y/n slipped out of the castle, drawn to her dragon, the cool night air invigorating her spirit. As she approached the creature, she felt a sense of belonging in the North, the stars twinkling above her like a promise of adventure. Meanwhile, Cregan found himself restless in his room, thoughts of y/n occupying his mind. He decided to check on Rickon, only to find the boy wide awake. “Can’t sleep?” Cregan asked softly. “I miss the stories,” Rickon admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Rickon is a young boy but winter is coming, Cregan stopped being soft on him and is starting to treat him like a young man but it pains him to remember he is a young boy without a mothers love. An idea sparked in Cregan’s mind. “What if I asked the maid to read you a story?” he suggested, a smile creeping onto his face at the thought of seeing her again. Rickon’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Cregan felt a rush of affection for both the boy and the maid who had unexpectedly captured his heart.

Gathering his courage, he decided to seek her out. He knocked on her door, heart pounding, but when no answer came, he hesitated before stepping inside. The room was empty, yet it was cluttered with books—an unusual sight for a servant. "Where could she be?" he murmured to himself, curiosity piqued.

As he asked the guards, one replied, "She went outside for fresh air, my lord. Said she needed it." Cregan frowned, mounting his horse and riding into the forest. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be out at this hour with deserters and wildlings for the wall being so close. After riding for some time, he spotted her silhouette against the moonlight walking in his direction. “y/n” he called out, his heart racing.

She turned, surprise lighting up her face. "Cregan, What are you doing out here?"

"I was worried about you. Do you want a ride back to Winterfell?" he offered, extending his hand.

Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. "I’d love that. It’s much too quiet out here alone."

Cregan helped boost her up onto his horse and then climbed on behind her. As they rode through the moonlit forest, y/n felt the warmth of Cregan's body pressed against her back, a mix of comfort and tension swirling between them. Their hands brushed against each other as they both held the reins, each accidental touch sending a shiver down her spine. “Tell me, how did you come to be an orphan " Cregan began.

The princess remained quiet, the thought of her father brought tears to her eyes.

“You know," Cregan continued , his voice low and contemplative, "losing my father was... it felt like losing a part of myself. I still hear his voice sometimes, guiding me."

Y/n nodded, her heart aching for him. "I understand more than you know," she replied softly, her breath hitching slightly. "I lost my parents too... though it feels like ages ago. Sometimes, I wonder if they would be proud of me."

"You possess a strength that is admirable,y/n," Cregan said, turning his head slightly to catch her gaze. "I assure you, you could never bring disappointment upon anyone." 

She felt a warmth spread through her at his words, their bodies shifting slightly as the horse moved. "And you, my lord, exhibit that same strength. It is evident in the way you carry yourself, even in the face of adversity."

“I often think to myself after spending time near you that you speak with grace, you don’t have the voice of a maid” Cregan said, although it was a statement it had a hint of curiosity in it.

“Thank you my Lord, It is a great deal to be given praise by a man of your station.” she replied.

As they approached Winterfell, the castle loomed ahead, and the air grew heavier with unspoken feelings. He helped her down from the horse, then he accompanied back to her room and as they stood at her door, the tension was palpable. "This is it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart racing as she stood just inside the threshold.

Cregan lingered on the other side, his gaze intense. "y/n, I—" he started, but the words caught in his throat. He took a step back, the distance between them feeling like a chasm. "Goodnight, my lady," he said formally, the weight of his emotions pressing on him. As he turned to walk away he muttered under his breath "I must not allow myself to fall for a servant."

Y/n felt a pang in her chest as she watched him turn away, the warmth of their shared moment lingering in the air, leaving her yearning for more.

That morning Cregan went about his morning duties but hadn’t seen y/n, he felt he had to check on her or Rickon would soon have a fit. The morning sun filtered softly through the curtains as Cregan entered y/n’s room, hoping to catch her before she began her day. He was greeted by a sight that took him aback—her silvery hair cascading over the pillow, a stark contrast to the humble surroundings of her chamber. Realizing he had stumbled upon something more than a mere maid, he quietly retreated, a smirk playing on his lips at the irony of it all.He quietly stepped out of her room and left the princess to sleep. Throughout the day, he enjoyed watched her flit about, serving others with grace, and found it amusing that the princess of the Seven Kingdoms was masquerading as a servant.

Later that afternoon, as they found a moment alone in the quiet of the castle library, Cregan leaned against the shelves, arms crossed with a teasing grin. "You know, the whole realm is in chaos with questions about the whereabouts of their beloved princess," he began, watching her face pale slightly. "But what I'm truly curious about is how you've managed to keep your dragon hidden in the North without anyone catching on." y/n’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and mischief dancing within them. "You think I have a dragon?" she replied, trying to suppress a laugh and keep her identity hidden.

"Well, it would explain your affinity for the wilds and the late night walks in the forest," Cregan shot back, his tone light yet serious. "I mean, the princess of the Seven Kingdoms tending to a dragon in secret? Now that’s a tale worth telling."Y/n burst into laughter, the tension dissipating as she realized he was not angry but rather intrigued. "You’ve manage to see past my facade Lord Stark.," she admitted, her expression shifting to one of playful defiance. "But if I tell you, you must promise to keep it a secret." The air between them crackled with the thrill of their shared secret, the weight of royal duty momentarily forgotten in the warmth of their connection.

As the afternoon light dimmed, casting long shadows across the library, y/n felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She turned to Cregan, her expression shifting from playful to serious. "I left the capital because... my father died," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't bear to stay there, surrounded by reminders of him. The court was suffocating, and I needed to breathe, to find myself away from all the expectations of marriage alliances but it seems the very thing i feared is what i long for now"

Cregan's heart ached at her words, and he hesitated before responding. "I was worried about you, you know. When I saw you in the kitchens, I thought... falling for a servant would be foolish. A woman I could never truly be with," he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "But now, knowing it’s you, the princess I thought was lost, I can’t help but feel relieved."

y/n caught the hint of vulnerability in his voice and decided to tease him. "Oh, Lord Stark, Was it my foolishness in the kitchens or my terrible dusting skills that won your heart?" she quipped, a playful smile breaking across her face.

Cregan chuckled, the tension easing between them. "Definitely the dusting." They shared a laugh, the air thick with flirtation.

As their laughter faded, y/n stepped closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "You know, I could teach you a thing or two Lord Stark, if you promise to keep my secrets," she said softly, her voice low and inviting.

Cregan took a step forward, his heart racing. "I might just take you up on that offer," he murmured, his gaze locked onto hers. The moment hung between them, electric and charged with unspoken feelings.

Without thinking, y/n leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a gentle yet fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with the weight of their shared burdens, the joy of newfound connection, and the promise of something deeper. As they pulled away, breathless and smiling, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them and the secrets they now shared.

[artandthebible]

The Ascension

Artist: Gustave Doré (French, 1832–1883)

Date: 1879

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Petit Palais, Paris, France

Description

In the Christian tradition, the Ascension of Christ concludes Jesus’ work on Earth with his entry into the celestial sphere after His Crucifixion and Resurrection. Doré depicts Christ, in glory but still human, with wide-open arms and surrounded by a multitude of angels gesticulating theatrically. As seen in the distance through the clouds, the earthly world takes on the appearance of a wild and majestic landscape inspired by the Scottish Highlands, which Doré discovered during a trip to Scotland in 1873. Thus, the painter gives the Biblical account a concrete and dreamlike dimension, placing the onlooker far away from the Earth, amidst the Angels.

The Ascension of Jesus | Acts 1:6-11, New Living Translation

So when the apostles were with Jesus, they kept asking him, “Lord, has the time come for you to free Israel and restore our kingdom?”

He replied, “The Father alone has the authority to set those dates and times, and they are not for you to know. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you. And you will be my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere - in Jerusalem, throughout Judea, in Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

After saying this, he was taken up into a cloud while they were watching, and they could no longer see him. As they strained to see him rising into heaven, two white-robed men suddenly stood among them. “Men of Galilee,” they said, “why are you standing here staring into heaven? Jesus has been taken from you into heaven, but someday he will return from heaven in the same way you saw him go!”

[bg-brainrot]

**BANGS DOOR OPEN**

I DO DECLARE IT BE HORNY HOURS!!

What is your opinion on Astarion’s fav positions?

Oh and what about him being a bottom!? (Pegging?)

**RUNS AWAY**

Ohoho! Don't run away, we have horny hour headcanons to discuss!

I do think this depends on spawn or ascended Astarion, so I split this up-- NSFW below the cut! CW: Astarion's past and trauma

Spawn Astarion

I've said it before in my headcanon post and I'll say it again and again and again: Spawn Astarion wants to stare into his partner's eyes during sex. Especially as he tries to grow more comfortable in sex, I think he would be open to trying out a few different positions, but ultimately find that he wants to be able to remain connected to them as best as he can, and that means seeing them, knowing that they're enjoying the experience as much as he is. After some time, he'd grow fond of other positions, but not for a while (see: The Thousandth Time).

That all being said, favorite position: missionary. I know people joke about this a lot but I think he really would enjoy it the most! He'd also be a fan of cowgirl/cowboy, and really any position that allows him to kiss his partner throughout, like sitting in each other's laps. He would hold their hand, press cool kisses to the sweaty sheen of their temple, anything to keep himself in the moment. It would be an active effort for a while, but soon it would become habit, effortless as he grows used to chasing his own pleasure without any thought at all.

Now top or bottom? I am of the opinion that Astarion is a switch with a preference to top at the start of his journey -- this is entirely because of the power dynamics at play. He'd been so used to being "on his back" literally and metaphorically that I think that first time in the woods is a moment of taking charge and one that he'd hold on to for a bit. Eventually? I think he would be comfortable as either top or bottom, and would certainly be willing to forgo some control if that's what his partner wants. It would really boil down to: 'I want us both to be happy in our experiences, let's figure what works for us both best' (so it would depend on his partner)

When the topic of pegging is brought up (either by himself or his partner), he would be cautiously excited at first, especially knowing how much his partner cares for him/his relationship with sex and how good it will feel. He's no stranger to being pegged, no stranger to enjoying the sensation, but it would be the first time in centuries that he actually wouldn't feel used by the end of it. So he enjoys it thoroughly that first time, all of his fears melting away with the way his partner coaxes the pleasure out of him, he may even make some noises he hasn't heard from his own mouth in years. Ultimately, it is one of the many ways he reclaims control and, for that, he can't get enough.

Ascended Astarion

Conversely: Ascended Astarion couldn't care less about eye contact during sex. In his act 3 romance scene, he only briefly makes direct eye contact, and it's mainly to get into a better position. To him, it's not about the inherent intimacy of sex, it's about the sensations that him and his consort both feel, that they both bring each other undone utterly and thoroughly.

So his favorite position? Doggy style. He likes deep penetration, and a position that gives him a lot of control. He sets the pace, the pressure-- he would feel every bit the lord he is while his consort begs for more beneath him. Another favorite position is 69, as he loves how he and his consort slot together so well, each heightening the others' pleasure throughout. To him, the more both he and his consort get out of it, the better, and if he can make them squirm with what a skilled lover he is at the same time? Delectable really.

Top or bottom is tricky here. Because I believe he starts out as a switch before Ascension, as Spawn Astarion does-- only I think his relationship with sex takes a different path than Spawn Astarion's, namely because he doesn't metaphorically lay his past to rest in the same way. As such, for a while he refuses to bottom. He sees it as demeaning, beneath him and, as his consort, his partner ought to understand and be willing to accept their place. Then, as he and his consort have more and more sexual encounters, he finds himself growing detached from sex. It becomes a rote power play in which he's more of an observer than an active participant. That is, until he finally lets go of some of that power. When he finally allows his partner to top, oh he enjoys it. A lot. Certainly more than he's willing to admit, but his consort would be able to tell easily enough, especially when Astarion all but demands it. That's not to say he relinquishes control entirely-- while he does enjoy being submissive to his lover, more than he expects, he certainly harnesses what it means to be a power bottom.

Ascended Astarion brings up pegging first, and it comes across as more of a casual topic of conversation than the excitement of a vampire lord ready to come undone. Again, his consort would know though. He wouldn't be able to hide the lustful gleam in his eyes when his consort agrees, he wouldn't be subtle about the way he whisks them away to their bedroom a moment later. He enjoys it in the moment surely, but is surprised by how little it entices him again. Being submissive is one thing, but he's left feeling oddly vulnerable afterward-- he doesn't care for that uncomfortable aftermath. When his consort next suggests pegging he shrugs it off, deciding to opt for something that focuses more on making sure that they get off instead.

Thank you so much anon 🫰🏽this was fun and hope you enjoyed horny hours!!