#at least i have princess back. AT LEAST there's that.

[seumyo]

the price to pay when you’re a passenger princess.

You knew that there had to be a catch when Bakugou said he’d pick you up after your 12-hour shift at the hospital. But the thing was, you were too exhausted to dwell on the thought.

Or so you thought.

“You look dead on your feet,” he commented as he opened the door for you.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you replied dryly, tossing your bag into the backseat. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

The sleek, jet-black Porsche 911 Turbo S roared through the empty streets like a predator on the hunt, the low rumble of the engine vibrating through your very soul. Bakugou, of course, looked completely at ease, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, a calm expression seen on his face.

You’ve come to understand that your husband was relatively calm when not provoked.

“Katsuki,” you started as the car picked up speed, “you do realize this is still a hospital zone, right? Maybe don’t speed like you’re in a Fast and Furious movie.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally just did.”

“Relax,” he drawled, shifting gears with precision. “You know I’ve got this.”

You, on the other hand, were internally reciting every safety procedure you could think of in case of an unfortunate circumstance to come.

“Should I call my assistant to make an appointment in advance?”

Bakugou snorts. “What? Don’t trust me?”

“Oh, I trust you. It’s the laws of physics I don’t trust,” you muttered under your breath, earning a low chuckle from him.

The worst part? There was barely any traffic this late at night, which only encouraged Bakugou to push the limits of what his new Porsche could do. You glanced at the speedometer and instantly regretted it.

“Katsuki, I swear to God—”

“What? It’s not like I’m breaking the speed limit,” he said with mock innocence, though the mischievous glint in his eyes told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The Prefectural Government’s Public Safety Commissions should really revoke his license one of these days. Or you might not live to see the next one.

“By less than two!”

You leaned your head back against the seat, staring at the darkened city skyline as it blurred past you. You were exhausted from your shift, your feet aching, bone tired, but all of that was being drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of your life flashing before your very eyes.

You double-checked your seatbelt again. It’s never too late to actually be safe.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to yell at me for being too hot and good at everything.”

“Wow? The audacity of my husband making such a bold claim,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “Have I fed your ego too much that you’re about to float away like a hot-air balloon?”

“Didn’t deny my claim.” He got you there.

You couldn’t argue with that.

“Just so you know,” you muttered, clutching the grab handle even tighter as he effortlessly weaved between two cars, “if I die tonight, I’m haunting you. And I’ll make sure to mess with you when you’re trying to sleep.”

“Good,” he said with a grin, finally glancing your way. “At least then you’d be with me all the time, huh?”

You stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now? While you’re driving like a maniac?”

“Who says I can’t multitask?”

Before you could fire back with another retort, the car slowed as you neared your apartment complex. Your death grip on the handle loosened ever so slightly, though your heart was still racing.

When Bakugou finally parked, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You unbuckled your seatbelt, your hands still trembling a little.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too or whatever.”

“I—wait, you actually said it.”

“What? Can’t a man just say he loves his wife?”

“Good point, but you rarely say it!”

“I pick you up after your every shift and make sure you don’t die of starvation or poor health. That’s enough than saying it, no?”

“But you said it! So it’s different.”

“Not.”

“It is!”

“Not.”

“Is!”

Terrifying car rides aside, there was no one else you’d rather be stuck with. Even if your husband drove you absolutely crazy—both on and off the road. This must be the price of being Bakugou Katsuki’s passenger princess.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[maybanksmusings]

JUNO : spencer reid

synopsis ; a slow day in the bullpen leaves the team recreating the viral sabrina carpenter tiktok trend in a fit of boredom.

includes ; spencer reid x fem!reader, the team ( mostly derek let’s be real ) teasing spencer, suggestive language, flustered boy genius.

“sweetness, if you don’t turn that damn phone down,”

derek scolded from across the bullpen, the tiktok audio on your phone distracting him from procrastinating.

“sabrina carpenter, right?”

emily spoke up, nodding your direction once she’d taken in the sound.

“that’s the ‘have you ever tried this one’ thing, right?”

you nodded, turning your screen towards her. it was a funny take on the trend, a girl making a fist with the caption ‘when my boyfriend pisses me off’ with the iconic line in the back.

apparently that’s all it took to get derek on side.

“hold on now, ever tried what exactly?”

“it’s a line in her song juno, it’s a sex joke.” you clarify, locking your phone and abandoning it back on the desk.

from the corner of your eye you see spencer squint in confusion “i don’t get it..”

derek lets out a loud laugh, earning a glare from both you and emily “of course you don’t, pretty boy.”

“the singer says the line and does a . . . pose.” emily explains vaguely, obviously expecting spencer to catch on.

he doesn’t.

“yo, reid,” derek calls with a grin “you ever try this one?” he sends a wink in the others direction, acting like he was twirling a lasso as part of the bit.

both you and emily laugh, understanding exactly what morgan meant. however, your resident genius is still left none the wiser.

“..that doesn’t really clarify anything..” spencers tone is apprehensive, like he’s really trying to get the joke but it’s falling flat.

“prentiss, we all know about your little sin to win weekends,” derek teases, nodding toward spencer “maybe a real life girl will help him get it.”

emily scoffs “god no.” you think her rejection is going to be as straight forward as that, but you could practically see the lightbulb above her head when her eyes land on you “how about a real life girl his own age?”

derek speaks up before you get a chance to protest, seeing your reaction and anticipating your response “c’mon, princess, i’ll even do half your files”

that’s all the persuasion you need, besides, it was all in good fun. no harm, no foul. right?

you thought for a minute, trying to decide what would be the least inappropriate thing to do before standing, taking a little over half your case load and dropping it onto dereks desk.

trying, and failing, to keep your giggles to yourself, you looked across the bullpen at spencer who had been watching your every move.

“have you ever tried this one?” as you quoted the song, you leant over your desk and sent a wink your coworkers way, trying your best to not join in on emily and dereks laughing.

finally, it clicked, and spencers face turned a bright shade of red. his eyes flicked around the bullpen in an attempt to stop his mind wandering, but it wasn’t really working.

“pretty boy, i never seen you speechless” derek taunts, finding great amusement in his friends flustered state.

there’s a beat of silence from spencers side of the office before he clears his throat and shuffles awkwardly in his seat. looking anywhere but at the rest of you.

“yeah, i get it now.”

“oh, we know.” emily teases, flicking a rubber band his direction.

you’re still leant over your desk, only now your face is buried in your hands in an attempt to dampen your fit of laughter.

“do i even want to know?”

hotch’s voice from his office door snaps you all back into serious work mode, you stumble over yourself to get back into your seat.

“don’t worry about it, sir.”

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 12 | Jing Yuan

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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“Good evening, princess.”

Without much time to relax or breathe when Blade left to go to the Emperor, another had entered the infirmary. You recognized him easily. He was the main physician that cared for people here. Luocha.

Bringing up the blankets close to your face as a sort of barrier between you and the man, you nodded to him, “h- hello… are you… that Emperor that that guard had mentioned?”

Luocha chuckled as he came to your bedside, “no, no. I’m a doctor, a healer of sorts. Now, princess, how are you feeling? Is there any pain anywhere?”

Taking a moment to think things over, you were glad that everything was working so well so far. Though, truthfully, you haven’t once talked to Luocha before, so you weren’t sure just how perceptive he was, so the amnesia act must go on.

“A little… mainly in my legs, back, and a dull throb in my head.”

Luocha nodded, “and can you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I- I can’t,” for more of an effective you tried to think of something sad so your eyes could start watering, and just as the tears started to form Luocha was quick to try to comfort you which was surprising to say the least.

“Don’t cry, princess, we don’t have to talk about your lost memory, alright? Let’s focus on something else.”

You nodded and just as Luocha brought out a small handkerchief, probably to wipe your tears, but before he could hand it to you, the infirmary door opened again, and Blade stepped through… with the Emperor coming in right after.

“Why is she crying,” Blade asked.

Luocha bowed, “I’m afraid it’s my fault, I asked her if she could remember anything, and I guess all the stress has finally gotten to her. My apologies.”

Without a word, Jing Yuan stepped forward and took the handkerchief from Luocha’s hand, and when he walked over to you, you couldn’t deny the fear that strikes through your veins as you scooted away, your back hitting the headboard as Jing Yuan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for you.

But all you could see was the striking arch of his blade swinging down.

However, instead of feeling that cold, electrifying metal glide straight through your body like it was made of paper, you felt a warm, calloused hand gently cup your cheek. The handkerchief cloth then lightly being applied to your dampened skin.

You trembled within his hold as he wiped away your tears. A part of you still disbelieving as he gently cleaned you up. It was such a stark contrast to your other meetings with him.

Once your tears were dried, Jing Yuan tossed the handkerchief back to Luocha, “leave us.”

Bowing almost immediately, Luocha took his leave. Though, Blade hesitated for a moment.

“That goes for you as well, Blade.”

Blade only gave a stiff nod before leaving. Your mind was a bit confused at the interaction. Blade has never done that before. He was always quick to follow Jing Yuan’s orders after all.

When you and Jing Yuan were finally alone, you half expected him to tell you to drop the act, but the words never came. Instead, his steel-like focus was solely on you, and not once were you able to stop your shaking, trembling form because of it.

His hand that was cupping your cheek moved to gently caress your face before he let his palm fall away from you.

“Princess.”

“Y- yes,” your voice wobbled slightly.

“Do you know how I am?”

“The- the Emperor?”

He smiled at your answer, “and my name?”

You shook your head, “no,” that one word was a mere quiet whisper that fell from your lips. This was way different than before. Not once had Jing Yuan ever asked anyone to leave you two alone. There was always a third-party present.

“My name is Jing Yuan.”

You nodded.

“Do you know your name?”

“I don’t… everyone only calls me by that princess title.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly at your response and told you what your name was, and before he could say anything else, you spoke first even though that same fear still coursed through you.

“Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That- that we’re supposed to be getting married to one another?”

He hummed at that question, “we are, yes. You’re my fiancé, in fact.”

His hands moved down to your own, his fingertips lightly brushing at your knuckles as he tried to coax you to let go of the blanket, and once you did, he let his fingers slip into your palm before intertwining both his and your fingers together.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t remember anything much less being your fiancé.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure your memory will come back in time.”

You panicked then, was he really dead set on this marriage then?! You didn’t let your inner turmoil show as you looked at your intertwined hands, “how did we end up together?”

“I met you at your father’s castle. The moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away from his.

“Did I tell you much about myself? Anything you can remember? I- I mean, if you want to tell me, of course. It’s just- it might help me remember,” you rambled a bit, your nerves quickly acting up, but Jing Yuan was quick to ease you, surprising as it sounds.

“I know that your favorite color is (color), and that you like to eat (favorite food),” he started to list off a few things, each detail surprising you more than before because… he was right on all of them, but you never told him any of this, so how-? How was it that he seemed to know you so well?!

And as your conversation with the Emperor continued, Luocha had returned at some point to prescribe you some sort of pain relief drink that you will need to take every morning and even said that you will be able to go back to your room. Which was a blessing, well, until Luocha left once more, and Jing Yuan stood up as well just as the infirmary door closed.

“Shall we?”

His hand was still intertwined with your own as you nodded. He was probably going to lead you back to your room, much to your relief. However, as you stood up the pain in your legs was way more than you previously thought as you left out a small cry of pain and stumbled forward.

Luckily, Jing Yuan had already caught you before you could fall face first to the floor, and before you could apologize, he had lifted you up causing a gasp to leave your lips as he moved to hold you in a bridal carry. Scrambling in his grasp, you hadn’t noticed that you had wrapped your arms around his neck until you turned your head to look at him, and not realizing that he was looking at you too, your lips had accidentally brushed against his own.

You reacted quickly as you pulled away, “I- I’m so sorry!”

And as you looked at him, it was like it took a moment for your words to register in his head as his eyes seemed to have a far away look in his eyes, but before you could say anything else, he smiled at you.

“You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”

You nodded as he fixed his hold on you and moved to exit the infirmary, and just as you were about to ask him if he wanted you to open the door for him, he had called out to Blade, and just as he did, the door opened. Blade seemingly had been guarding the infirmary this entire time.

“Come along.”

The walk to your room was silent and whatever you did, you just couldn’t get your body to relax within his hold. Your tension not going unnoticed by the Emperor, but luckily he didn’t say anything.

“Here we are.”

Looking towards the door and then back up at Jing Yuan’s face you asked, “do we… not sleep in the same room?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he was quick to recover, “before we had agreed not to share a room until after we are married, however, maybe sleeping in the same room will hasten your memories to come back sooner rather than later.”

You were quick to shake your head as you ducked your chin down to avoid eye contact, “n- no, we can- we can wait until we’re married- if- if you still want to marry me.”

Having Blade open your bedroom door, Jing Yuan had walked in with you still in his arms. His steps easily carry you to your bed, but before he set you down, he had leaned into you. His lips pressing softly to your forehead causing you to freeze up again.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning. Your maids will come assist you in getting ready tomorrow,” he said to you as he set you down.

“Al- alright, thank you Emper-,” before you could finish he had stopped you, his thumb pressing firmly against your lips.

“My name.”

Nodding to him, he had brought his hand away, “thank you…. Yuan.”

The shortening of his name seemed to catch him off guard again, but just as before his recovery was as swift as the wind, and he delivered his goodnight to you just as easily before leaving your room.

And once you were finally alone, you flopped back into your mattress. Jing Yuan was acting off, but you knew better. As long as you stayed on your toes and kept at it, you knew that you would be able to make it home.

“Blade.”

“Yes?”

“Has Dan Heng apprehended the maid responsible?”

“He has.”

“Good.”

“Do you want him to take care of her?”

“No, I’ll kill the maid myself.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[vyliez]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 was it casual?

pt 2. to : why'd you only call me when you're high

pairings: se-mi x fem!reader

synopsis: fucking that shit attitude of hers out because what the fuck?

warnings: smut, sub!se-mi, fingering, pwp(?), pathetic!se-mi, squirting, edging. lmk more lolz

a/n: lord knows we need a sub se-mi in our life once in a while because whimpering and whining se-mi will make my phone switch from my right hand to my left :P also i'm shit at endings but wtv at least there's sub se-mi and i'm fine

the morning after, you decided to ask her when her head's clear. "se-mi?" you hummed as you watched her fumble into her clothes, your chin resting on your palm.

"yeah?" se-mi replies, looking down at you, all sprawled in bed, looking disheveled. she swallows her dry throat, trying to keep her thoughts pg-13 as she buckles the belt of her pants.

"about last night..." you started. you could see her pause before continuing on her ministrations. so she had noticed. good. or bad? you waited for her reply in silence as she tried to not meet your eye.

"it was nothing," she finally replied after a moment, looking dead into your eye, her face unreadable. "i was high,"

that made you scoff to yourself. "of course it was," you mumbled, your gaze fleeting downwards as you fiddle with the loose threads of your blankets. it always was nothing.

"hey," she says firmly, placing two fingers under your chin, making you look at her and meet her gaze. your eyes subconsciously wandered all over her face, as if it were memorizing every single eyelash and freckle for your suffering later in the dark. you swallowed hard, you watched how her piercings glinted against the open sunlight. fuck— why does she have to be so hot all the fucking time? it made you wonder what it'd be like to share something more than fucking with her.

"it was a mutual agreement between us," her voice snapped you out of your daze. "no feelings involved."

that made you swallow the lump in your throat, your heart sinking lower and lower deep into the trenches of your sorrow as se-mi lets go of you, pressing a kiss on your forehead as a farewell. "i'll see you when i see you, yeah?" she says, taking her jacket and opened the door to your room. "and remember, this thing between us is just casual," she says casually before closing the door behind her.

nothing was casual about it when you had her helpless on her own couch, squirming and crying as she begged and pleaded while your hands expertly circled her clit.

"b-baby... please, i'm sorry," she begged, sobbing as you denied her for the nth time that night. her hand tried to snake up your hips but you swatted it away. "no," you said firmly, which emitted a whimper from her pretty lips.

se-mi didn't know what she was apologizing for. all she knew that this was somehow a sort of punishment she did a while back. she whined softly, bucking her hips up to your hand for more friction after you ghosted your fingers over her clit. however, she shriveled when she saw your glare, her lips forming into a small pout, akin to a child that had been scolded by their parent.

her mind raced, trying to find the reason for this 'punishment'. surely it was nothing serious right? she traced the day's events in her mind. you messaging her you'd be around tonight, work, lunch, work, had some breakfast at this new diner—oh. her realization hit her like a ton of bricks, at the same time, you inserted two fingers easily through her tight walls, which made her moan loudly, her hand latching onto your arm, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes in pleasure.

"ah- ah- ah," you tutted as you removed your fingers from inside her and swatted her hand away from your arm. "no touching unless you don't want to cum, do you understand?"

se-mi whined, her lower lip trembling, mumbling incoherent apologies. "princess— sweetheart... p-please... please, i'll be a good girl— i'll treat you better than before," she panted heavily, another set of tears forming in her eyes, ready to fall again. her begging fell deaf into your ears, however as you pinched her clit harshly. "do you understand?" you asked firmly, staring deep into her eyes.

se-mi yelped, tears down her cheeks. she nodded fervently, desperately grinding her hips down your hand. "words, darling," you cooed as you captured her lips with her, your tongue slid out to fiddle with the piercing on her lip, the metallic taste mixing with her usual taste of cigarettes in your mouth. you pulled away, making her whine and push forward to chase your lips. "words, se-mi. i want to hear words from you," you say, pressing a finger on her lips.

"please," her lower lip trembled, her eyes wide as begged. "i understand, just please..." she whispered.

"mmhm?" you hummed, capturing her lips again, sloppily kissing her as the lewd sounds of your fingers pushing in and out of her wet cunt filled the room. "fuck, you're like a waterfall at how wet you are right now," you gasped against her lips as you watched her wetness stain the couch below her.

"babe— princess— please..." she whined, rolling her eyes backward. "shhh, don't worry darling," you cooed running a hand through her damp hair, thrusting your fingers faster as you watched her build up her orgasm.

"i'm gonna— please—" se-mi pants loudly, gripping the blankets beneath her tightly as she lifted her hips, screaming your name.

"fuck, baby, that was so hot," you murmured amusedly as you watched her squirting.

"you think you can do that one more time?" you mumbled in her ear after she came down her high, running a hand through her hair lovingly.

safe to say after that, her attitude towards you had somehow changed. she'd stay with you in the mornings, make you breakfast, pick you up after work, and makes the best aftercare baths for you. she even asked you out on a proper date! all because you fucked that attitude out of her.

[0rczy]

I really like analyzing Varigo, one thing I've noticed recently is how different their approach to romance (and human connections in general) really is, but also how they're pretty much the perfect foils in this regard.

Varian grew up sheltered away in their mansion. He didn't have much clue about socializing, so when Rapunzel came to him, he gives all of them proper respect (calling Rapunzel "Princess", Eugene "Flynn Rider", as in the full name). You could assume it's because of his dad; later when the two confronted each other, Varian called him "Sir". Probably because Quiring taught him to be respectful of others, and they both clearly take this social rule rather seriously.

So then Cassandra comes in and saves Varian, for apparently no selfish reasons. She likely just didn't want to have a child get crushed when she could've prevented it, but to Varian, this changes his view on people. Cassandra isn't just a distant figure to respect; instead, someone he could have a connection with. And this is where one of Varian's most essential traits come to light: when comfortable, he treats situations like an experiment. He immediately starts calling her by a nickname, "Cassie", to see how she would react. At the day of the expo, he keeps trying out different tactics, trying to essentially just get close to Cassandra. One could Interpret this romantically, but I personally like to think he just really wanted a friend. A lonely kid, seeing someone cool show any kind of affection for him immediately made him go "there could be something here! I need to find out!", and so he does. In his own, nerdy way.

Hugo, on the other hand. He, unlike Varian, grew up having to socialize all the time. Having to talk his way out of situations constantly, he learned to put up walls so that the most desirable results come out, benefiting him and his missions. When he weasels his way into the Team, he also calls them nicknames. In his case, it stems from a need to distance himself from people, so that he doesn't get attached. One slight exception though is Varian, as Hugo seemingly not only uses nicknames on him to keep up built-up walls, but to get a reaction out of him. This is very similar to how Varian approached Cassandra when he was younger. He's interested in Varian from early on, and he handles this in his good old Hugo fashion, because he finds Varian entertaining. Varian at first doesn't trust Hugo, but when he proves himself trustworthy, he gives in. He's willing to reach out, making Hugo more than a means to an end. Eventually, the two become friends! Then more than friends!

And then, their approaches change.

I'd like to think that it was Hugo, who fell first. Or at the very least, he's the first to realize it, and he HATES THIS. His flight or flight is activated, and he really wants to flee. He's the type to ignore his feelings, try to bury them. That's all he knows how to do, really. Especially because for what could be the first time in his life, he's actually falling for someone who is his friend. Someone who means a lot to him! He wouldn't want to ruin things, especially because he knows that betraying Variant will break the guy's heart, once he finds out. Therefore, the less pain, the better.

Varian is the exact opposite of this. It takes him a long time to figure out what he feels, and that it could be romantic (he didn't exactly have the history with romance before. The "puppy crush" on Cassandra could have easily been more of an obsession with the possibility of someone showing affection towards him). But once he realizes that there's a chance that the two could be a thing? He doesn't have to think hard about what his next step should be: he likes Hugo, and he's a scientist. Trial and error is practically in his blood at this point, so if there's even a small possibility of them getting together? That Hugo likes him back? Varian will do anything to find out how probable his theory is. And so, once again, he treats the situation like an experiment. Wasting no time, he tries to confess or bring up the idea as quickly as possible. And Hugo FREAKS OUT. He's not ready!

Varian's other big trait is his stubbornness. He's not satisfied with an uncertain answer. He wants to know Hugo's view on them, as clearly as possible. So he keeps poking around, trying to find an approach that brings out different reactions, different answers as to why Hugo would be scared of them being together. Again. Really similar to how he treated Cassandra at the expo back then. This is the only way he knows how, though. And he needs clear answers.

He gets one at the last trial. Boom. Heartbreak. This isn't about angst though, so I'll end it here.

I find them so interesting. How their upbringing influenced their view and approach to people, to friendship, to romance. To each other. They are both scientists, but one is more afraid of the results than the other.

So it all boils down to the importance of clear communication: another big theme in Vat7k, what with Ulla and Donella setting an example as what not to do.

I could ramble about these characters for ages, but yeah. This is my view on them, I loooove reading different Interpretations in fan fiction though!

[daemonbrain]

Little Viper

Prologue | Chapter 1

(Daemon Targaryen x Dornish!Reader)

Summary: The sun could not reach you here, not in this city of rain and stink. (Un)fortunately, you found yourself at the mercy of a dragon's fire.

You've missed the heat, you supposed.

6k, CW: arranged marriage, canon divergent, canon-typical violence, canon-typical misogyny, reader is homesick, smut, will update as I post.

a/n: This was def a bitch to write lol, I really need to get back into it. I haven't decided whether i'm going to turn this into a proper multi-part series or not so I encourage you to leave comments if this is something you'd be interested in :)

To My Lord-Father,

It has been well over a week's time since you’ve sent me- your dearest child- away. A few days time since I last felt the weight of the sun's warmth upon my skin. The overcast weather befitting of my current disposition and this city, nay, kingdom’s shortcomings compared to our beloved Dorne.

I arrived a few hours ago, though I swiftly left the company of King Jaehaerys and the rest of his court's brazen stares upon arrival… you’d think they had never seen a Dornishmen before. However, the reason being for my early retreat was not the scrutiny, rather that I don’t feel particularly well. You know I've never enjoyed sea travel, for it makes me sickly. Or this may just be my body’s desperate act of resistance against this poorly-conceived match you’ve sold me to. Be that as it may, it does not do to dwell as you would say.

I am willing to do this wretched duty as Princess of Dorne, to bring upon us a lasting peace. At the very least for Qoren’s sake, I suppose. 

Though I am cross with you, I cannot say it isn’t regrettable to hear that your ailment has rendered you unable to make the journey to King’s Landing… your absence will be strongly felt, father. Just as it has been.

On a less glum note, I feel my dreadful spirits being lifted. It’s as if I can sense my brother's approach to the Blackwater Bay where I will eagerly await him on the morrow, perfectly on time for the ceremony.

I miss you and shall count the days until I am able to return home? Sunspear home to see you. Do not strain yourself while Qoren and I are away.

Best Regards, Your Daughter.

100 A.C

Had you been in your previous state of fury and pettiness, you might have crossed out “daughter” in favor of  “forsaken issue”. Mayhaps if you had the energy at present, you would have.

While on the sea, you had been given much time before your grand entrance to reconcile yourself with your forlorn state of affairs. The reconciliation being overindulgence of barrels worth of Dornish Red on board. The “wedding” gift Qoren so thoughtlessly japed. 

Your pitiful drunken outbursts in the privacy of your quarters, lest you cause any rumors before even arriving at the port. You would curse the day you were born, the day your father was born, the day his father before him. 

Prince Daemon and his drunkard bride, a blessed match.

However, after the unremitting bouts of nausea ultimately won over your desire to numb your senses. Leagues away from the Dornish border and fast approaching your fate, your anger could not sustain you so wholly in the middle of the Narrow Sea.

Taking a moment from your trivial displeasure, you hunched over, placing your forehead to the wooden desk in your guest chambers with a thud. Holding yourself tightly as if that would dull the unpleasant rumble in your belly, rocking your body as the ship had mere hours ago.

A warm welcome to this shitpile of a city. You chuckled to yourself, to the empty room. You could only assume the things Qoren would say about this horrid place. How dull the walls were, the lack of open air. No bright colours and suns embellishing every piece of fabric. 

He would make a wisecrack remark, “Oh how drab the Targaryen splendor is!” 

Though he would say it in a far more humorous way. His asinine character a natural talent to a prick such as himself you believed.

Pushing yourself up with your ink covered hands, you groaned and ambled over to the opened window where the steady whistle of the wind entered. The moon was shrouded in the looming storm clouds, doing little to nothing in regards of illuminating the Red Keep’s disappointingly plain architecture (you may be biased) and the city below. If you gave too much focus, you might begin to smell the… aromas King’s Landing had to offer from all the way up here. None pleasant.

Your belly ached and gurgled as you thought back to the putrid smell that overwhelmed you as you were transported from the Blackwater Bay to the Red Keep.

Before you could dwell any longer, you sighed and shut the window tightly, nothing deemed interesting enough to watch anyways. Instead, your newfound anxieties find their way back to entertain you, the only thing keeping your company as of late.

You had a duty to keep, reminding yourself like a mantra.

Marriage alliances have been custom through the centuries in Westeros. Your own flesh born of political maneuvering and courtly expectations. Why was it now as you stood before your responsibility, your chest tightened at the very thought? At the briefest mention?

You did not like this, but it was your burden to bear. You had no wish to feel this way.

You could only conjure a faint image of the moment your brother unwillingly delivered your fathers verdict on your future. It had been a beautiful day, the gardens' serene quality creating a profusely deceptive sense of security.

Mayhaps it was the way your head was sent spinning immediately after the words left Qoren’s mouth? The rush of anger which possessed you? The way it caused you to barge into the council room, any trace of warmth or softness you commonly afforded to your father absent. 

Nonetheless, it was all a blur of shouting, salty tears, pleas and comforts falling deaf to your ears. Whatever it was no longer clear to you.

Sighing, you begin to slip out of the dress you had travelled with, the hem of the sleeves stained from your letter writing. 

You briefly considered stripping down to your undergarments and sleeping as such. Though, upon further deliberation you thought it best to wear a simple nightgown in accordance with the cold draft of the castle. 

Slipping under the fur lined covers you couldn’t help the feeling that crept into the cavity of your chest. It burned within you, leaving a rancid taste in your mouth. This was it. Come this time tomorrow, you would not even belong to the house of your kin. 

Wrapping the covers more firmly around your quaking form, it’s indiscernible whether the chill or your fear was the source.

“Daemon” You dared to whisper, willing yourself to speak the Targaryen Prince’s miserable name into the empty bedchamber. You did not like how it sounded on your tongue.

Do you feel this dread as I do?

“Does my Prince find himself in need of comfort?” The whore spoke out, reaching to graze the silver-haired Prince’s hand which held his third- fourth cup of wine.

Dornish Red Daemon had complained. He always favored Arbor Gold.  

He had been in this place since the previous night, an angered promenade with a few of the guards he trained with on occasion. They laughed, feasted, fucked through the streets of King’s Landing without shame nor respect for the Prince’s wedding ceremony taking place on this very day. 

Daemon did not deem it worthy of his attention. Let the King’s guard or whatever the fuck else other soldier his grandsire and father will send drag him from this place. He would stay put in the meantime, enjoying his time sunken in his whore and cup much more than he would with the Dornish wench they’ve bound him to.

Daemon smirked as his gaze ran down to the woman’s breasts shamelessly, watching the way her nipples hardened under the flimsy gown she wore. The cold winds from the opened window biting at her form in a delectable way.

 When his eyes arrived back to her face his own violet eyes were met by her blue ones. Her unmistakable silver hair shining in the candlelight. This was what he was deserving of.

His previous visits to this particular establishment were met with loyalty by the owner. She spoke of a girl to his tastes. He was pleasantly surprised with the dragonseed waiting for him in the deeper parts of the building.

The sound of moans echoing from within the brothel, the lecherous men seeking reprieve from their lives by giving up their coin to service the women who milled about.

All the distractions which blared loudly in his ears could not distract his active mind as he drunkenly and loudly complained of his circumstances.

How could they expect him to sit idly by as they took his future into their hands. To marry him to a hot-blooded Dornishmen. The blood of the dragon does not dwell with sand people he had told his brother Viserys.

Slamming his now empty goblet to a random table, he allows the silver-haired woman to lead him to an empty couch amongst other patrons and working girls alike.

She pushes him to the couch and flicks her hair to the side. He leers at the beauty born of his house’s ardor. Her sharp features, tresses which reached her waist. Grabbing on to her with a firm hand, he pulled her down to his lap as a familiar need spread through his body. Deserving.

Daemon was not one to hold back his desires, and why should he? A dragon's blood is made of fire, and nothing burns hotter than a dragon's lust.

As she lightly grinded her hips against him, a familiar rising began

This is what he is deserving of. He had no need to see his intended, for he already knew what the Dornish were. Most certaining nothing he was interested in binding himself to.

“My Prince is most eager,” she breathily stated, her breath clipped as Daemon wasted no time fastening his mouth to hers, roughly coaxing his tongue into her mouth. “Your Prince needs a good fuck.” His tone husky, words slurring slightly. His lips breaking apart from hers, hands exploring her dress-clad form. A thin bit of fabric which he could make quick work of.

“Spend your night with me and it may be your best fuck yet, my prince…” Gods had he not been so displeased by his circumstances he would have taken to banter with this seductress. Would have let her worship him, and he would worship her in turn. However, the sound of the stitches on her flimsy gown ripping from his grip on her waist was a tell-tale sign this was no such night for that sort of intimacy. This was a night for animalistic intentions.

His hand greedily roamed the expanse of her soft skin, marks from previous patrons visible- he did not care. Her perfume almost nauseatingly strong. It did not matter.

The two were lip locked. Groans and heavy breaths as they practically merged into one another. The fervor of which Prince Daemon kissed at her skin, beautiful and unsightly.

If the Targaryen’s were believed to be closer to the gods then men, why was it that they crumbled all too similar to even those of the lowest birth who frequented these houses of ill-repute. For any who caught a glimpse of the young Prince and his company of the night, that very notion could be challenged as he desperately clutched on to any purchase of skin he could find, the need for anything pleasurable in this wretched day. Seeking solace in the arms of a beautiful woman with an underlying need to reclaim the power he deemed stolen from him.

Pulling back from the kiss, the woman latched her skillful lips to his pale skin. With a sharp inhale, Daemons went muscles taut at the way she nipped and licked at his skin. 

“That’s it..”

A short groan escaped him as his hand went to cradle the back of her head, taking a handful of her hair. As he pushed her closer to his skin he could have sworn this woman was a witch.

When she began to palm him through his breeches he was sure. At the tender touch, his cock chubbed up. In the daze his eyes slowly peered at the sight before him, but before he could admire the feast laid before him another irritating sight caught his attention.

Another girl, distinctly sun-kissed skin that was certainly not from the gloomy skies of the Crownlands during the winter, and dark locks of hair forming waves down her back as she vigorously worked her mouth on another patron.

Before he is able to grit his teeth in annoyance, the silver-haired woman's dexterous hands continue to gently touch him through the fabric of his breeches, he momentarily has to toss his head back to let go of a deep breath, his drunken state causing a small whine to escape.

After a hearing a small giggle, he focuses back on his own pleasure and groping of the much more interesting beauty-

His eyes quickly peered back over to the other whore.

Damned Dornish. Worming their way into all facets of his life now? The thought made him want to scoff.

Dishonourable Dornish. Known throughout Westeros for their cowardly fight tactics, uses of poison.

More crudely also known for their lust, their thirst.

Daemon could not help that his wine-addled mind brought him back to his fucking betrothed. He wondered if the rumors held true. Daemon had fucked wenches prettier than a fair few of the noblewomen in court. He had no issue avoiding the bedding entirely if she happened to be one of the more plain featured.

Though, his fathers fury would know no bounds were he to not consummate the union, the key piece to such an "important" alliance... were it up to Daemon to provide council (which it very much wasn't) they would come to the walls of Sunspear atop Vhagar and Caraxes to subdue this folly entirely.

Would the Princess descend to her knees like the woman in his view? Gaze up at him in pleading to fulfill her bottomless appetite. His cock, his fingers, his tongue. After all how could such an insatiable creature react well to her own husband refusing to fuck her.

Gods he hoped she wasn't ugly.

If she was lucky enough, perceptive enough to beg, the Prince would jeeringly stroke her hair and whisper his taunts before pulling her on to him.

Were you the sort of woman able to take a man to his base? Or would you ask him to slow his pace?

Continuing to watch the Dornish woman, he allowed a groan to slip past his lips at both the ministrations of his paid companion and the sight before him.

The whore deftly performed. Perhaps you would try to please him with such fervor. Leave eager licks at his sack of stones as you indulged in such carnal desires. Delightedly hum as you suckled at his tip.

“You distract yourself, mighty dragon” His companion interrupted while grabbing his face on either side. Had his body not already been ready to boil over, it certainly was now at her words. A mighty dragon he was.

Shaking his head, he centers his thoughts back on to the woman whose legs were dangled across his thighs. Unbearably hard, he ached to see her bare. And with that desire came the end of her cheap gown. He ripped the fabric down the middle, her chest now on full display for him to enjoy.

Unfortunately for his poor intoxicated attention span, the loud sound of squelching hit his ears and he could not resist the temptation to look back.

He watched as the man hungrily began to leverage his position over the other woman, choosing to forgo her teasing in favor of fucking her mouth.

Daemon wouldn't do that- not like that. His mind wandered off again. A place where a Dornish Princess sat between his legs determined to inch-by-inch feed his cock into her hole. No, he would let her tease. He would let her and then when he no longer wished to, she wouldn't need to try so hard anymore. For he would begin to snap his hips forward to make up for what she couldn’t. Breaking that infamous Dornish resistance by forcing her poor throat to adapt to the too-large intrusion. 

He would relish in wounding the Martell pride after all, justifiable revenge for his own. The only thing he may be granted in this ridiculous union.

He would be gentle and rough all the same, mocking through it all.

The whore clearly knew what she was doing, patiently and prettily sitting there while suctioning her cheeks, bobbing along with the rhythm. He would have let her work a little longer before devolving so fast as the man had. To each their own.

He didn’t know if it was the view or the feeling of his pants being unlaced which had him beginning to sweat.

Would his bride sit as pleasantly he wondered or would fat tears slip down her cheeks at the bombardment? Too overwhelming for the likes of a noblewoman. Or perhaps she would prove to be the opposite and enjoy such treatment, utterly unbefitting to her station.

Would her own cunt glisten as the whore's does in pleasure, calling to him as if it was of the utmost fascination? Would her spittle drip down from her face to her thighs? Would they be rubbing together in need as he buried himself deeper. Her body ready to entrap him should he lose his wits to a viper of all things. A little thing trying to fool a dragon.

In a matter of seconds, the man's tempo slowed significantly as his legs began to weakly quake. Taking this opportunity, she sped up, and as if sensing this she pulled off. Jerking his manhood over her face while looking at him with a sultry stare, he turned away bashfully, his peak quick.

Daemon would have pulled the Princess the whore close, nuzzling her nose to the very base of him where his silver hairs grow. Shaft as far as it could be. He would watch as her eyes grew hazy from the closeness, from the seed which slithered down her throat.

If you are pretty enough, he would find no shame in returning the favour. A lusty Princess, certainly a rarity left unseen by him (lest he recounts the stories of his denounced aunt Saera Targaryen).

If the rumors of the Dornish are anything to go by, a pretty girl with loose legs was the best he could expect out of these circumstances. At worst, another person which he would dutifully ignore and loath as best he could.

Without taking notice, the woman on his lap gestured the Dornish whore over, slipping her hands away from Daemon’s.

Before the husband-to-be could object to the separation, the two women dragged him bare and ready to a more private chamber in the back grabbing a pitcher of wine on the way.

Dornish Red.

You had been quick to rouse from your rest, your body protesting the sounds of the morn outside of your door. A clear indication it was time for you to rise. You struggled, it was not as if sleep came easily to you the night before, nor effectively when it befell you for that matter.

But as the sharp knock of your maid came to the locked wooden door of your chambers there was no escape. Your paranoia comes back to bite you as you were forced to trudge over, utterly unready to face the homely, friendly woman you had taken with you from Dorne.

After opening the door and curt pleasantries are exchanged, your hair is made to a neat style and you are helped into a fine dress suiting the chilly weather.

Had you been at home you would have opted for expensive lace and airy fabrics. You’d be bejewelled and by the prudish standards of King’s Landing, “scantily” dressed. Though, you’d bid the Lord’s and Lady’s of this court to attempt a summer in Sunspear wearing their usual constricting and heavy fabrics.

Running your hands over the tightly corseted waist, the maid speaks up while collecting loose items marring the tidy space.

“The discomfort is a small price to pay. Should you be beholden to Prince Daemon this morning, he will think you stunning in such a piece.” 

Raising a brow to her comment on the Prince’s… likes, you speak semi-irate. “Does the Prince enjoy his women light-headed and immobile then?” 

You knew little of Daemon beyond the rumors which circulated about him, let alone enough to presume his tastes.

A second-born child just as you were, he was a knight described as tall and hardened where his brother Viserys was more plump. 

You oft fantasized of what it would be to truly be with a fighter. Now faced with the possibility of being bound to a glory-hungry Targaryen, you could not find in yourself the same excitement you felt when studying the soldiers of Dorne. In fact, it would not be a stretch to say there was faint distress.

You studied the woman's reflection in the mirror and she looked at you once and then twice over. 

“Ah!” The maid scampers over to where your jewelry is laid and brings a gold albeit simple necklace. Strapping it around your neck she claps her hands together softly.

Deeming her work satisfactory, she meets your eye once more with a commiserating stare.

“If that will be all Princess?”

“That will be all.” 

She bowed and left without another word. Your unpleasant behavior was something anyone employed by your father to serve you in King’s Landing had begun to become accustomed to. Their good Princess grows bitter in the absence of the sun. 

With a sigh, you turn when you hear a knock at the door. It is then you see your ever stoic knight Ser Edmyn.

With tan skin and hair that was but a wisp, he was an experienced fellow. Even with old age the knight was able to keep up with any man half his years. An imposing size and frightening demeanor alone enough to ward any undesirables away. One of the best in Dorne deemed the best protection for his Princess.

“Good morning Ser Edmyn.” You smiled small while approaching him at the door, (un)ready to leave the safety and solitude of your bedchambers.

“Good morning, Princess.” He smiled small back. A pleasantry which was reserved for you.

As the both of you fall into step you continue to speak while observing the bustle of the corridors, decorations coming to and from even in this wing of the castle. “It is busy today. I suppose all this chaos is to be expected...”

“There is to be a royal wedding after all. Though I deduce you would not like to be reminded.”

With a chuckle you shake your head “No, ser, I do not. However, I would like to pick your brain for what you know of my brother's arrival. I would like to be there as soon as his boat is, I am most excited to see him again.”

“It is to my knowledge that your brother will not arrive until noon.”

With an aimless hum you keep your eyes trained ahead, lest you embarrass yourself with the anxious expression on your face. A few more unbearable hours until they are made just a slight bit better. Mayhaps Qoren will be able to bring a spot of light to this dreary city.

After a few minutes of allowing Ser Edmyn to lead you, you recognize the faint smell of food. Gods it has been a time since you last ate. On cue, you begin to salivate over the thought of a freshly cooked meal.

An unfamiliar voice interferes with your fantasies, coming to a stop in front of you with a polite smile. “Princess,” The servant bowed respectfully, clearly in a hurry. “her royal highness Princess Aemma requests you join her to break fast.”

Looking at Edmyn with annoyance displayed, he only responds with an inappreciable shrug. Mayhaps the woman would further rub your nose in all of this bother. This family has ruined your happiness, they may as well ruin your meal.

Offering the servant a reluctant nod, he stiffly leads you and your protector to a dining room. 

Bowing, the servant leaves after delivering you in front of your destination and Ser Edmyn takes his place on the wall outside of the opened door. Pushing all the thoughts from your head you assume a neutral expression as you walked into the room.

Without so much as looking at Aemma’s face, you nod your head with respect due to someone of her status. “Princess Aemma.”

It was when you heard a soft babble, your mind went soft. You tilt your head back up to see Aemma giving you a bright smile and you spot a girl no more than three in her arms. 

“Or… Princess’s, apologies.” 

“Princess,” your name slipping from her lips as she wrangled her wriggling daughter. “No need for such apologies. I hope I did not interrupt your busy morning!” She spoke with jollity, as if this was a day which deserved such joys.

“Not at all. I’ve yet to eat anything. Nothing to tend to until my brother Qoren’s arrival.” You mustered a friendly looking smile, trying (and failing) to reciprocate the amiable spirit of the Arryn. 

“Come. sit, sit!” grabbing hold of her daughter's wrist, she gently waved it in your direction, “Say hello Rhaenyra.” she told her daughter, the two letting out a little giggle at the contact. 

“Helloooo” The girl playfully obliged.

As you sat down, you could not fail to take note of the way her silver hair and violet eyes stood out amongst all of it. A true little Targaryen.

You presumed they all started this lovely. One could almost forget they grew to be wicked dragonlords.

Unknowing of your distasteful thoughts, Aemma continued putting the young Princess in her chair as the help served her up a plate.

“I figured it would be pleasant for the both of us to meet in a more intimate setting. You left so briskly the past night, I could not introduce myself. I do hope you were able to remedy the travel sickness you mentioned?” She turned her head upwards to you.

“Yes… pleasant.” You continued, “sleep always proves to be the best cure to my ill-state.” 

Bang! 

You jumped at the sound. How pleasant to dine to the sounds of the young Princess whacking silverware to the wood.

“Feed mummy! Food!” she whined.

Without casting a glance to Rhaenyra, Aemma places a light hand to her little fists to placate the girl. “Patience Rhaenyra… Apologies, my girl is quite insistent.” As the beginnings of cries begin to persist, Aemma turns to Rhaenyra with a soft smile.

Motherly.

“What do we say Rhaenyra?”

“No Mummy! Feed!”

Aemma giggles a bit before continuing. “Kostilus. Say it my girl, say what your father taught you. Kos-til-us.”

With a final resistant pout, red-faced and desperate to be fed, the girl parrots her mother. “Kostiles!” Rather she tries to.

At her daughter yielding and speaking this mystery word, Aemma begins to spoon feed her, attention returning back to you.

“It means please in High Valyrian. Viserys, Prince Baelon… Daemon, they are all fluent. ‘Tis quite important that a Targaryen is fluent in the mother tongue.”

You hum in agreement as you take a sip of your drink. The ancestral tongue of cruel war instigators. Fitting.

“I must say how wonderful it is that Prince Qoren will come! I’m sure you are very happy to see him on such a special occasion.”

You thank the server who set out a plate with something of palatable substance compared to the meals you were served on the sea. 

Taking a few bites of the food, you will yourself slow down, responding after you’ve swallowed. “Yes, such a… special day.” You gulped and barely held back your grimace.

In need of a different topic, you continue. “But to say I am very happy would be phrasing it far too mildly. I am quite fond of my brother. We are inseparable and it has been strange to be without him for so long.”

“It must be hard to be away from him, especially… in a place so different.” You see a flicker of sympathy in her gaze as she turns to gently wipe at Rhaenyra’s mouth with a cloth.

You watch as she mothers her daughter with the same soft gaze. You did not need someone years your younger looking at you as if you were a lost lamb, it only caused your annoyance to be inflamed.

“Yes, well, as is my duty.” You responded in a way which sounded more clipped than you intended.

In spite of sensing your blunt tone, Aemma continues cooly. “I myself am not close to my half-siblings. They are all quite a bit older than me. I was never lucky enough to have a relationship like the one you describe.” She smiled wistfully. “I do hope in the near future Rhaenyra will be able to have such a bond.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes flickered down to your empty finger. The tan line a reminder of your gold signet ring. Yet another thing you reluctantly miss.

Your annoyance softens at Aemma’s kind words and the reminder of your “lucky bond” with your brother as you decide to initiate a question. “Did you like Vale? I have never visited.” You asked, unsure of how to proceed.

“Oh yes! It would snow in the winter, sometimes so hard one could mistake for Winterfell! And in the spring the prettiest flowers would bloom! Little blue ones all around. It all becomes a little blurry as time passes on-”

You felt your heart skip once as she carried on. Would it be you one day dining with someone, talking of Dorne as a memory?

“But of course I've been in King’s Landing since I was a girl of eleven. I’ve built a fondness for this home as well.”

That caused you to pause. 

What a horrible thing to be ripped from your home at such a young age. 

Taking another bite of your food, you watch as she continues to prattle on about how “pleasant” King’s Landing could be if you looked closely. Gulping down your food, it is your turn to look at her with sympathy.

As you both goalessely chat with occasional interruptions from Rhaenyra, the topic of your intended is breached even with your skillful avoidance.

“He is not as bad as people say, you know. Just… passionate. He is kind to Rhaenyra and I. He loves his brother very much. Perhaps he could make…” Aemma’s voice wanes off as she thinks on her next words. 

A part of her wanted to reassure you by saying “a fine match.”  However, she did not wish to sour this new amity by feeding you lies. You were going to be her sister and you did not seem like the type to take kindly to blatantly dishonest consolation. It was not right.

Not when she had heard the cruel way Daemon had spoken about you to Viserys only nights ago. 

“A tolerable match.”

You were a nice girl… angry perhaps. She found herself hoping vainly Daemon would not ruin you. 

“How reassuring Princess.” you chuckled, allowing yourself to go lax a bit.

And how this delighted Aemma. “Having said that, I do not think you will have to… concern yourself with him before the ceremony.” she grinned quietly.

“That disappoints me so.”

Amidst the comfortable silence which ensued, you’re interrupted by Ser Edmyn.

“Princess, I’m sorry for the intrusion. Your brother's ship approaches the Bay. I thought it important to inform you, we will need to leave soon if you wish to welcome him.”

Aemma could see your harsh air lighten evidently. The announcement of your true brother's arrival bewitching you with a smile of what looked to be perfect glee.

You shot up from your seat immediately, pivoting towards the Princesses. “I do hope you forgive my abrupt departure, but I-”

“Go! It is fine. I look forward to meeting Prince Qoren!” She simpered.

Without another word, you were in the buzzing hallways of the Red keep. “Make haste Ser Edmyn!” You laughed as you picked up your skirts, bursting with joy that even the constraints of this damned corset could not stop you.

Had this been a few hours ago, spotting the orange Martell banners carried alongside Targaryen, flowers, and chairs you might have been sent into a dizzy spell. You just might the moment you arrive back at the castle. Not now though. For now, your brother was here!

After a brief carriage ride you are offered a hand by your knight as he gently leads you down. Uncaring of the light rain which splattered over your new dress, you stumbled upon the stones which littered the shore as you raced to catch a glimpse of the vessel.

Your heart threatened to burst and for the first time since you arrived, you graced King’s Landing with the brightest of smiles. A smile meant for the ship which flew the familiar sun, spear striking it through.

You had been angry and bitter, but that did not change the simple fact that you longed to be in the presence of your brother. Desperately. You wished to put all of this nasty business behind you and embrace him as family again.

As the ship grew closer, you began to register the faces of the crew. How vain he was. Hiding from a bit of rain, no doubt to avoid soiling his clothes. 

Today would be a miserable loss, but perhaps a bearable one now.

The ship docked and you were growing restless. As two familiar Lord’s, advisors to your father, disembarked you wasted no time in approaching them. 

You looked a mess. Tightly bound hair damp, your dress dragging in the wet sand but it simply was no matter to you.

As the advisors took you in, you assumed it was your disarrayed appearance which caused the apprehensive air.

“My Lords, I do hope the journey was all well!” You chirped.

They bowed in greeting, the uneasy look they exchanged going unnoticed. “Quite well, my Princess.”

“I do hope my brother is not fussing over the rain in there. ‘Tis somber all the time here, he must grow used to it. As will both of you I'm sure.”

…

“I am…” Taking a breath in, one of the men paused observing your blissfully ignorant expression. “Prince Qoren sends his sincerest regrets, but he will be absent-”

Your smile dropped as quick as it had appeared. He continued speaking and you stopped listening. Absent.

Absent.

He spoke of duty, he spoke of loyalty. And where was he on this most “auspicious” day. Was each and every reassurance a callous means of pacifying your temper? The fucking traitor. The whole lot of them. Your brother, your father, his council, your home for gods sake! By their will, cast into the fire while they reap the spoils of peace.

What of your peace? Was he so cruel as to not see you off in gratitude for your sacrifice? He was no “exalted” viper, he was a snake.

“... Princess?” One of the advisors questioned, most like realizing your inattention to his excuses on Qoren’s behalf.

Your vacant stare focuses back to the man as you furiously willed your tears to stay put. He sighs and looks at you with pity, aware of your blaring disappointment.

Pulling something from under his cloak, the Lord outstretched his hand with a brown piece of parchment, little water droplets staining the paper as the rain began to intensify. “He tasked us with delivering this to you… it seemed-”

“That is all.”

“Princess…”

Snatching the letter up, you fixed them with a hard glare, a weak manifestation of the anger which seethed within you. A letter. His consolation was even pathetic.

As the two men hurried off, you opened the letter, uncaring of the way the rain lashes at your frame now, the overcast beach full of people hurrying off of the boat.

Dear Sister,

I take no joy in writing this note, for it is with remorse that I must tell you I am unable to attend your wedding ceremony, nor visit you in King’s Landing hereafter. I know you will be angry and I am sorry. I am so very sorry and I beg of you to not lose heart, to not be frightened. I  beseech you to accept my lamentable apologies and understand this is not how I wished this day to go.

-Qoren

You cared not for the rest, only the reaffirmation of your brother's non-attendance. As the rain slid down, your tears mingled with the droplets. Crumpling the letter, you allowed it to drop down in the sand, watching it slowly turn soft from harsh rainfall.

Abandoned by your own family, the gods and men would bear witness to your entrapment. 

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[sturniololuv08]

TreeHouse Prologue

Summary: A glimpse at what is to come...

"The sharpest pain is often caused by the people we love the most." 

"I think I want to be Barbie." She giggled.

Chris sat upwards in a semi-ab crunch to look at her. "Barbie is a dumb choice." He rested his head back down on his interlocked fingers. He inhaled the earthy smell of the freshly cut wood surrounding them from top to bottom and side to side.

"But she's so pretty." Sienna sat cross-legged, gently stroking her Barbies' bleached hair. She fiddled with her pink frilly dress and sighed.

"Be a transformer. At least they have a purpose." Chris scoffed. He wanted to be openly honest with her and tell her how he thought she was prettier than Barbie but decided against it.

"Barbie is useful. My mommy said she is a tool used to empower women." Sienna nodded her head, proud to know that information. Even though she had no idea what it truly meant, she liked sounding smart.

"Nessie." Chris groaned, annoyed. He also didn't know what that meant. He rolled over to look at his best friend. She looked up from her Barbie with big brown doe eyes. "At least transformers have handguns." Chris was ready to fight his case. He playfully pointed finger guns at her and popped them off, making 'pow' noises. "See. Now your Barbie is dead."

"Oh, shut up." Sienna stuck her tongue out at her annoying best friends.

"Kids, it's time for dinner!" They both looked up in the direction of the wooden window to see the sky painted a dull, darkening blue outside. The old Christmas lights half hanging from the ceiling cast a soft false white glow on both of them. Neither of them realized what time it was.

"The last one down is a rotten egg." Chris stood up fast and shoved her back down to the ground when she was about halfway up as he ran by her.

"No fair! You're cheating." Sienna frowned, getting up again. Chris was quick to position himself down the ladder and took one rung at a time hastily.

"You're just slow, Nessie," Chris yelled back up. Nessie peered down the hatch and tucked her Barbie in the corner of the tree house. She slowly took one step at a time down the ladder, upset she wasn't as fast as Chris. He waited for her at the bottom of the rope frame, holding it steady for her. As soon as she hopped off and her feet were in the cold, dewy grass, Chris propelled his body forward toward the house. "I told you!" He laughed. Sienna didn't want to give up without a fight, so she tried to play catch up but was still behind.

"You are so mean, Chr -" Sienna stopped talking when she walked through the door frame. She looked upwards to see her parents talking with Chris' parents. Her parents looked apologetic and his; angry.

"Chris, can't stay for dinner tonight." Her parents tried to sound nice about it.

"Why not? We were supposed to play Transformers after dinner." Sienna whined. She tucked her arms and began to pout.

"It's okay, Nessie. We can play tomorrow." Chris smiled one of his classic big cheesy smiles.

"Promise?" She huffed.

"Secret handshake promise." Chris looked at her with happy eyes. She immediately dropped her angry stance and started smacking, clapping, and even kicking their handshake. They ended it on her favorite move, where Chris would princess twirl her. He hated it, but she insisted she had to have the princess twirl. If she couldn't be Barbie, she was going to be a real-life princess. Her parents were smiling in awe as their babies got along so well. His parents looked irritated.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Sienna waved as Chris followed his parents out the door.

"Bye, Nessie." Chris waved back with the big smile he usually had around her.

The next day, Sienna asked about Chris relentlessly. She had her parents call him over what seemed like a thousand times. She waited by the front door, hoping to see their car pull up or to see him trotting down the sidewalk, which was rare before. She would go and sit in the treehouse by herself, hoping his head would pop up through the hole in the floor and scare her like he loved to do. She waited. Chris never came back. The next day was the same routine of waiting, looking around, and having her parents call his. She waited and waited for him, but she was met with disappointment.

A whole week went by with no word.

Then, a long, lonely month had passed.

She thought it was because he didn't want to be friends anymore.

After every month that passed, she worried less and less about it. She got used to spending alone time in the tree house. She started to get herself to believe he moved away after school started up again and he wasn't in any classes. She would play Barbies and Transformers by herself in the tree house. Even though she pretended not to care, she still looked for him at lunch and during recess. She even hoped he would miraculously show up at their bus stop one day.

It wasn't until Chris missed her 11th birthday party that she realized it was time to give up on him.

She gave up.

She stopped going in the tree house.

She made new friends and began to grow up without her childhood best friend by her side. She started playing sports and excelling in Language Arts. She had a few fights with her parents about personal space. Those very fights made her think about going up to the rotting tree house one more time, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she slammed her bedroom door in frustration.

She was becoming a young woman learning to navigate her life. But deep down, she held onto the little girl who would sit cross-legged in a pink frilly dress that almost matched the Barbie she once held in her hands. She felt a little heart-string break every time she would envision the little boy with blonde hair shifting into brown with a big toothy smile laying down on the fuzzy carpet, staring up at her with icy blues. She didn't think about him often, but when she did, she always hoped he was still a big goofball like the nine-year-old she knew once. She only had one regret, one thing she would have done differently if she could have.

She wished she had known that he was going to disappear that night because if she had known then what she knew now, she would have twirled a few more times under his arm just to make the memory last a few seconds longer.

Treehouse Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @mintsturniolo @wysmols

Random taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @matthewslover @middlepartmatt @thenickgirl @miss-sturn @christophersmiddlefinger @chrisswife4lf @blushsturns @lovesturni0l0s @delusionalbri @abbilmao @sturnshood @sturnkial @sturniolowhore @chrissweetheart

Dividers ALWAYS @issysh3ll (fucking babe) and ill only be using hers for this fic series but I wont be tagging further just because I dont wanna annoy her 🤭🥺

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have very descriptive moments of abuse.**

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

[moon-buggg]

28 for the micro story post ?

28. Something about [them]

Goth!yn time, also yn is a big fan of bugs in this one if you're not into that. This one got away from me a little bit I don't think it can be called micro anymore lol

When you had first been hired on as daycare assistant, Sun was absolutely, positively, one thousand percent certain you were not the right fit for the position.

Your dark, dreary clothes stood out like a sore thumb against the bright, cheery plastic of the daycare. Your eye makeup was heavy and dark, and judging by your taste in jewelry you were far, far too interested in awful awful creepy-crawlies. He'd caught glimpses of you before you changed into your employee uniform, and it was all too easy to slot you into the role of 'villain' when your chosen outfits fit so neatly in with the story book illustrations of evil, scary characters that the heros would defeat without fail.

...admittedly, it soon became rather difficult to keep up that assumption.

There was just... something about you. Something that kept drawing him back to you, try as he might to resist.

Eventually, despite his initial coldness, he found himself warming up to you. Sun is nothing if not stubborn, and he's honestly a little embarrassed nowadays at how long it took him to admit that he may have misjudged you.

But, those days were far behind him.

Today, he sits at a table much too small for him, trying his best to seperate his focus between colouring and chatting with his table of little superstars, and listening in on your conversation a table or two away.

"Did you know your bracelet has a bug in it?" A boy at your table asks. Sun knows exactly which bracelet he's referring to, probably his least favourite of your jewelry. A braided cored with a scorpion encased in resin. For all that you two had gotten closer, he could not for the life of him figure out why you were so fond of the awful thing.

"Yes I did!" you rely, excitement clear in your voice, turning your wrist to let him see better. "I picked it because of the bug, in fact."

"Oh," the boy responds before pausing. "...Why?" He eventually asks. Sun grabs for a blue crayon, nodding along with the particularly complicated story being told at his table.

"I like them," is your simple but honest answer. "Did you know some scorpions glow in the dark?"

Sun sneaks a quick glance back at your table. The boy has grabbed your wrist, and is studying your bracelet very intensely, like if he just looks hard enough, he'll be able to figure out all the secrets the scorpion holds. You've got a smile on your face as you patiently let the boy twist your wrist this way and that to examine the little preserved pest. Sun quickly looks back to his paper, ignoring the way his fans start running just a little bit faster.

Time passes. The boy does not resume his questioning, and Sun is quickly pulled into a lively debate about which is better- fairy princesses or fairy ninja princesses. He's so caught up in the debate, he doesn't notice the little pair of eyes watching him. Soon enough, arts and crafts time is over and it's time for clean up.

Sun goes around the room, collecting all the drawings so they can be sent home. When he reaches your table, however, he becomes very aware of the boy you were talking to glaring up at him with all the seriousness of a heart attack.

"Mr Sun, are you a bug?"

"What!?" Sun's voice is strained. It's a miracle he's able to stop himself from ripping the papers in his surprise. "Whatever makes you say that, friend?" Oh how he wishes he could glare at you right now, as you try desperately to hide your laughter. The other children at the table are not so shy in their amusement.

"You look like one," he declares like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And, and you've got an ummm... exo-skeleton! Like a bug!"

"Noo friend, I'm not a bug, not a bug at all!" He clarifies, swiftly recovering as he gathers the drawings. "I'm a robot!"

The boy considers this. He must not like whatever it is he decides because he looks at Sun a tad angry as he asks his next question. "Why aren't you a bug?"

You seem to have developed an awful cough right at this exact moment. How unfortunate.

"Well, I'm simply far too big!" He eventually lands on. "Bugs are tiny tiny tiny, right friend? I'm simply too tall!"

The boy seems satisfied with this answer, nodding his head and going back to helping put all the crayons back into their box. You stand up, leaving him to cleanup while you prepare the next activity.

You pat him on the arm as you pass, throwing him a grin. "Dont worry Sun, you're my favourite bug," you say, walking away before he has a chance to react.

It's probably for the best. Sun doesn't think he'd ever live it down if you saw how flustered being call a bug, your favourite bug, made him.

[ravinoforre]

So I saw an opinion on a character that I, respectfully, don't agree with at all, and it isn't the first time I've come across this particular take either. I don't like nor want fandom discourse, making counter points to arguments in general make me nervous, but as someone particularly attached to them and their related characters, I have a lot of thoughts I want to get out there in the hopes that maybe they can be seen from a more positive perspective. So um, here they are. Get comfortable, this is gonna be a long one. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In Defense of Lily (Pokémon XD).

Those of you who've played this might already know what I'm referring to, so I'm just going to rip off the proverbial band-aid. Right at the start of the game, as you, the player, are being introduced to her, one of the first things she says is;

...and ok yeah, I admit. This is kind of a weird thing for her to say (in front of her son too, oops). This is usually one of two instances that people latch onto to prove she's an awful mother, but there is, at least in my opinion, some hidden context to her words. First of all, she's not wrong; the whole lab does in fact constantly sing their praises and fawn over both these kids (which is adorable tbh). Secondly, it's not unreasonable for her to believe that lots of inflated praise on a child, no matter how well meaning, may have negative consequences on their development. A kid receiving a constant stream of "you're so cool/special/talented" may end up with an inflated ego and become depressed, or even lash out in anger, if that praise either stops or something comes along to disprove it (like failing a test or making a mistake).

(Side note, I came across some partially related studies (x), (x) and an article from a parental psychologist (x) that go into different types of praise given to children; person, or ability praise ("you're so clever") vs process, or effort praise ("you worked really hard"), their effect on self esteem, personal growth, and performance, and how ability praise actually negatively effects a child's sense of worth compared to effort praise or even no praise at all. It's a lot to go through right now and this post is already going to be super long, but I mention them here because I'll go into something later that you may find rather interesting. I know I do. They're fascinating reads, too, I would recommend!)

Now listen up! Lily, contrary to the belief that she's a cold-hearted mother who shuns her offspring, actually does praise and engage with her children! Throughout the story, she'll talk to Michael and say some interesting and wonderful things as his adventure continues! The problem is that unfortunately, a lot of this proof is hidden throughout each story beat in a section of the lab that is no longer required to enter to progress (and most people won't bother to go back and speak to their own mother who apparently "hates" them). Off to find Jovi:

🥹 baby... Before saving Phenac City:

🥺😭euuhhbbebeh father mentioned During the Phenac City hostage situation:

After the Phenac stuff:

"I'm proud of you." You literally cannot get a more explicit form of praise than I'm proud of you. Hell, I can't even recall a time my own mother told me that. Fucking hell. Also. Pampered?! You hear that? She's practically contradicting those accursed two lines! By her own admission, the kids are pampered babies! Her concern isn't that people will spoil them—because they're already spoiled!

(Jovi is a pampered baby princess). I think Lily's worry in her comment is that may roll too far; it's like she says—spoiled rotten.

Ok one more example for this section:

(disclaimer: these screenshots are from the romhack XG which is why her name isn't in all caps; trust me, this same line is in base XD too) Remember the types of praise I mentioned earlier? Ability (person) praise and effort (process) praise? And how the former could be damaging to a child's self esteem? Do you notice anything particular about the way she speaks to Michael and praises him? "You've become an outstanding trainer in your own right." Not "You're so strong." "You're doing so much for the good of others." "Your courage will save the Shadow Pokémon." Not "You're so brave." "You did it all by yourself without anyone's help." She's praising his actionable efforts! She's applying process praise! (Pleeease read those studies and article, at least the first study I linked, it's genuinely insightful and fascinating, and it's even more amazing that an example of it is featured in a video game by a character most people won't interact with beyond necessity! I love this game! So! Fuckinhg!! Much!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

Ahem. She's also not saying that people shouldn't praise her kids either; only that she wishes it wasn't gushing praise all the time. Too much of a good thing could be harmful, after all. Let's see...

Sounds reasonable so far, right?

...Galactic peace?! My brother in Arceus, all he did was beat you in a friendly Pokémon battle—a battle that Michael's already been led to believe he'd win anyway thanks to that previous comment from his coach (those screen caps are in chronological order)! Even without the fact that by this point he's midway through a dangerous fight against a criminal organization, it's probably not a good idea to give a developing young teen a literal God complex; what if he gets so full of himself he genuinely believes he's unbeatable... and then loses? That child's mental state is going to plummet. So even if you don't agree with Lily's praise comments, you might at least better understand where her concerns are coming from if this is potentially the kind of thing that's being told to her kids regularly.

Moving on, try putting yourself in her shoes a moment. She's a working, grieving, single mother of two who, according to an NPC in the lab "has an exceptionally high sense of responsibility".

As a scientist with the necessary expertise, she has the heavy task of helping realise a sensitive project—sensitive not just in terms of urgency (as Krane predicts Cipher is going to be a threat again), but also in terms of emotional weight; this project was something her late [husband] poured everything into until his death, so both her and Krane continued on with it; by the time the game starts, they're agonisingly close to completion. And time is of the essence. Quick tangent: watch the cut scene post Krane kidnap again. The camera rests on Lily an awfully long time. The father of her children died before this project was finished, and now Krane, a close friend of both of theirs, has been taken away by force. Both her children have witnessed something traumatic. Her daughter is sobbing. She's literally being told the situation is "hopeless" by a colleague. Imagine the sheer anguish this woman must be going through before having to push through all of it and take complete charge for the sake of finishing the project. For the morale of the entire lab staff. For the sake of keeping her kids calm. For the fate of the region itself. Anyway, because of this project, and how close they are to finishing, she isn't able to afford much, if any, time off to spend with her kids "this instant". It's probably why the lab staff have pitched in to help look after them (which must make her feel pretty damn guilty with that high sense of responsibility of hers). It's why she asks her son to go find his little sister in her stead.

And this brings me to point number two that I've seen used countless times to slander her:

She just lets Jovi run off on her own, and doesn't care what her kids are up to.

Which... no, sorry, hang on here. Lily isn't letting Jovi run off on her own. For starters, both her and Krane believe she's in or somewhere outside the lab grounds, playing hide and seek with the caretaker, Adon.

A game of hide and seek (particularly if they're taking turns hiding) is likely why nobody's seen her since lunch, by the way, and not Lily not giving a damn about the whereabouts of her child. And when she's found and brought home again, Lily says this;

This implies she's spoken to her daughter about running off on her own before, and we do later get to know that Jovi has a habit of running off ahead; she runs off down the steps in Gateon ahead of her brother, she rushes off to deliver the machine part by herself to the chamber, and even though Michael is the one asked, she runs off to go see Datan—despite Lily telling her she doesn't need to do that. This means if Jovi gets invested in something, it's apparently hard to stop her. Visiting Kaminko's is a recent fixation of hers, and if Adon is already aware of where else she might have gone off to if she's nowhere on lab grounds, it might mean she's been there before (that, or Adon was the one who caved and told Jovi where to find the place). I might even speculate and say Lily has specifically told Jovi before about not running off to the manor. Anyway, check out what she says when you find the little runaway but come back empty handed.

The heart-sinking realisation and disappointment in that "...Oh" alone....

So no, Lily isn't letting her young child run off on her own—Jovi is disobeying her mother. She's either used the game of hide and seek as an excuse to dip (and then forgot about Adon entirely), or she got bored midway through and decided to head to her new place of interest despite any of her mother's previous objections. (And before anyone says anything, no, that doesn't mean Jovi is a bad kid, either. She's, what, around 7 yrs old? She is doing typical little kid things, emulating her older brother, and discovering and pushing her boundaries as she grows up. I have seen some putrid, abysmal hate for her over the years too. She is a child, leave her alone.) Onto the second half of the above statement; she doesn't care what her kids are doing. As in, Michael is on a treacherous journey against a dangerous group of people and she's totally ok with letting her kid do that (as if that isn't the case with practically every mainline entry protag mother but alright, I'll bite).

Introducing one of my favourite exchanges with her in the game. During this time, the purify chamber still isn't complete, and they'll need to use an alternate way of purifying Shadow Pokémon until then—the Relic Stone in Agate Village.

oh it worries her, does it? You know what happens when No is selected?

And then she drops the conversation. There's no endless loop to get him to go, which would have been the more convenient thing for the devs to implement. But this was a very deliberate choice that tells me more about a character than I've seen done in a video game before. She's respecting her son's decision to stay home. She is not forcing him to do something he isn't comfortable with. Of course, as a video game, the purpose is to progress to the next story beat. So he has to go. Better talk to her again.

I don't even think I need to add any extra commentary, this should really speak for itself at this point.

I've also reached the image limit on this post so it's probably time I wrapped this up, so in conclusion; is Lily a bad mother, as I've seen people claim? No, and I believe I've showcased plenty to prove she isn't. She's not perfect, no parent is, but she's a damn sight more involved in her children's lives than the mainline moms, who are often nothing more than out of the way Pokémon Centers that don't acknowledge their child's journey in any meaningful way. So then, was she in the right for saying what she did at the start of the game, right after Krane praises her son, who is in earshot of this conversation? Well... also no. She could have picked a better time and place to bring it up, honestly. But God forbid a woman make a mistake or voice a concern, lest her be mischaracterized and demonized forever by two unfortunately worded lines of dialogue.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Michael, you're finally going off to the ultimate battle, aren't you? You've really grown in stature. As your mother, it makes me feel conflicted. I'm happy and proud on one hand, but I'm also a little sad. Go and get rid of Cipher, and make it quick! And come home safely."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ If you've managed to reach the end of my ramblings, I'd like to say thank you. Hopefully I've given you some food for thought. Maybe I've even changed your mind about her. And even if I haven't, I appreciate you taking the time to read this regardless.

[alons-ycreeper]

Because it's been rotting in my brain and it's canonical that a version of this world exists in the franchise I bring you this

BBC Merlin x Witcher

- When King Uther is saved from a griffin attack by a passing witcher from the school of the Bear, the witcher calls upon the Law of Surprise: the first news he receives when he arrives home. It is then that the Court Physician, Gauis, comes out to tell the king that his wife, Yrgraine, has passed in childbirth but his son Arthur is in good health. The Bear witcher looks to the king and tells him that in six years time he'll return for the boy. Six year pass and despite Uther's best efforts to save his only son and heir the witcher still manages to come for him. With the loss of his son Uther banned the Law of Surprise and all witchers from entering Camelot.

- Arthur undergoes the Trial of the Grasses with fellow children of surprise: Gwaine and Lancelot. Arthur seems unaffected by the Grasses so he's given a second round which was more painful than the first leading to his hair falling out and coming back in platinum blond. He grows to be the most skilled swordsman the school has to offer making him efficient in each kill. However, he is unable to use witcher signs and his potion brewing skills could use some work. Aside from that, Arthur quickly becomes the most sought after witcher in Albion.

- When Arthur is twenty-one he gets a contract in Camelot, a request from the king himself. At this point more than witchers and the Law of Surprise have been banned from these lands. Magic has also been prohibited unless it is used for healing and even that has strict rules to it. The king asks him to kill a dragon in one of the nearby caves. Arthur laughs stating that killing a dragon is strictly against his own code. Seeing himself out Arthur is soon stopped by Princess Morgana, who doubles as her father's court sorceress. She brings him another contract this time in aid of the dragon. She tells him her close friend and son of the Chief Dragonlord, Merlin Wyllt, is in need of protection for the Great Dragon's egg. Arthur agrees and sets out to meet this Merlin.

- Turns out Merlin just happens to be the legendary Emrys, Son of Eart Sky and Sea, Magic itself. A bit intimidating especially for someone who's at least two years younger than Arthur himself. Merlin is an interesting person. For someone so incredibly kind and down-to-earth, he's rather feisty and a bit mischievous. The way he makes Arthur feel dizzy isn't entirely unwelcome. When the threat to the egg has passed and Merlin is returned safely to his Dragonlord clan in the tiny village of Ealdor, Arthur is asked by the younger to stay and watch the egg hatch. Honored, Arthur agrees and is awestruck by the newly hatched Aithusa.

- Arthur is on the outskirts of the village when Merlin comes running up to him, pack in on hand and horse's bridel in the other. The witcher doesn't even try to object, just laughs as he saddles his own horse as they ride off together towards Camelot.

- By the end the king believes Arthur has slain the beast and dubs him knighthood, thus making him Arthur of Camelot the only witcher allowed into the kingdom. The years following the dragon hunt see Arthur frequent Camelot often for its monsters. The king seems to become more and more familiar with the witcher as does the princess though Arthur would call her more a friend than Uther. There's something about the old king that feels off to Arthur not necessarily in a bad way but not in a good way either.

- It's during the year Arthur claims his child surprise, Mordred, a young druid boy, and Merlin has been traveling with him for a few years. Merlin has received news from Morgana that she's run away from home to a druid tribe not far from them. They plan to go meet her when they find themselves surrounded by Camelot knights. Leon, their leader, apologizes for the ambush but the king wants Arthur in Camelot immediately.

- Uther tells Arthur he's his son. It all makes sense why the king became so adamant that Arthur stay long after hunts. Now with Morgana having gone rouge Camelot needs an heir, its true heir. Arthur refuses but before he can escape Uther has him imprisoned. Merlin and Mordred managed to get out, running into the nearby forest. Merlin, frantic, goes in search of Gwaine and Lancelot, Arthur's brothers. Mordred, however, calls out to the druids. They answer.

Merlin: You knew. This whole time you knew.

Morgana: Merlin, listen please–

Merlin: How could you lie to him like that? He's your brother, your flesh and blood brother!

Morgana: What good would telling him have done, huh? Already a witcher for longer than he was human. He didn't suit this life not anymore.

Morgana: I know I haven't been a good sister, Merlin. But believe me I love my brother very much. I sobbed myself to sleep the night the witcher came for him. I prayed to the triple goddess every night to bring him back. And when I saw him again all I wanted to do was hold him like I did when he was a baby.

Merlin: Save me your tears. I don't have time for this.

Morgana: Uther trapped me, controlled me. You think he won't trap Arthur as well?

Merlin: He already has. That's why I'm going for help.

- Merlin sets out again with Mordred and an uninvited Morgana to find Arthur's brothers. Meanwhile Arthur suffers at the hands of his father who is constantly trying to find a way to reverse the witcher mutation

[crescenthistory]

Hello lovely! Can I request Marlene McKinnon with b1+11 please? 🫶🫶

of course you can<33 my fav girl marls

Prompt: B1. "I require at least a thousand kisses to make up for it" & B.11 "Come back to bed"

Words: 1.5k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, not proofread, idiots in love, established relationship, morning kisses, cuddles, quidditch player!marlene, loving jokes at james' expense, background marylily, very background prongsfoot, implied gryffindor!reader (you share a dorm)

While there were no limits to what you loved about Marlene, on cold winter nights spent in an ancient castle with terrible isolation, her running hot as a furnace ranked high on any potential list.

It had been months since you decided to push your beds together in the dorm and spell the gap between the mattresses away, and you had yet to stop commending yourselves for the idea. Practically every night before you went to sleep, Marlene would mumble about "what a bright witch must have thought of this", and you never knew whether she was referring to you in a flirty way or herself in a self-congratulatory way, seeing as you thought of it together. You usually didn't call her out on it though, too busy grinning so hard your gums hurt.

You were also too busy having Mary fling pillows in your direction as she begged you to "stop being so lovey-dovey". With quiet whispers, you and Marlene would giggle about how her tune would likely change whenever she finally confesses her feelings to Lily and could follow in your footsteps.

In the meantime, you had a large bed, warm blankets that the four of you dyed cute patterns into at the start of term – the traditional way without magic, just like Lily taught you – and a beautiful soft girl in your arms. It was the perfect haven; a motivating start to the day and a reprieve from the weathers at night.

That is, until Marlene tries to get up at 6 AM to attend quidditch practice. 

Again, on the list of what you love about your girlfriend, her commitment and loyalty were high on the list, the two qualities that truly drove her in her sports achievements. She was a pleasure to watch on the field in more ways than one, and you were there to cheer her on for every single match, painting both your and her cheeks in vibrant red and gold.

However, when you were swept up in a heavenly cocoon of plush fabric and delicate skin, the smell that was so distinctly Marlene swirling in your nose and your mind, the mere suggestion that it should be broken even before the break of dawn felt like a death sentence.

You let her know as much.

"Marls, please," you whined, not caring that your voice was hoarse with sleep and your eyes weren't even open. You had just barely registered the kisses peppered to your hairline that already carried an air of goodbye and Marlene beginning to move.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she whispered against your skin before kissing it and removing her hands from around your waist.

You scurried after her and doubled down your own grip on her with surprising strength for someone not yet truly awake. "Marlene, baby, don't go." You weren’t entirely aware of what you were saying, just that you were begging and that you honestly stood by it – this was no time to leave.

You must be slurring your words because she began to giggle and her hand on the back of your neck came forward to brush over your cheeks and even squeeze them a little. "'M sorry my love, duty calls. You just sleep on, princess."

Another kiss to your hairline. You clung onto her harder and made a noise of distinctive disagreement.

One thing you had come to learn about Marlene over the years is that if she had not been sorted into Gryffindor, she would have been placed straight in Slytherin. Because this cunning sly witch made a sympathetic cooing sound, gathered you back up in her arms, and began rocking you ever so slightly back and forth. Only half your brain was awake – if that – to begin with, and within seconds your entire world was just your nose against Marlene's neck, her lips along your cheek and ear and the faint sound of her humming a Scottish lullaby.

You were swallowed by the abyss while wrapped up in love, and you would have stayed in the pit of its stomach had it not been for the gust of icy wind that brushed your face, some unknown time later.

With a low groan you opened your eyes into mere slits, trying to focus your gaze on the small commotion before you. There you were met with the sheepish smile of your lovely and traitorous girlfriend as she had just stood up from the bed and begun to pull on her red wool socks.

"Marlene. That was mean." You grumbled, but even so, you pulled the blankets closer around you as you shimmied clumsily to her side of the bed.

Immediately upon the reunion, Marlene's surprisingly warm hand went to caress your cheek where you looked up at her, scrutinising. "Sorry lovely, I wanted you to sleep." She pouted at you to make your frown wash away into a smile. "I have to get to quidditch practice with James in 30."

"I know you do." With a match against Slytherin coming up, James had the team practicing once or twice per day, at what you had promptly labelled ungodly hours. "But right now you have a cuddling appointment with me. Come back to bed."

You took advantage of her hand on your cheek to reach up towards her upper arm and shoulders and try to jostle her down towards you. Marlene chuckled quietly, trying to be careful not to wake your other two friends who were decidedly not known for being bright and cheery in the morning, and sat down beside you on the bed yieldingly.

You were ambushed by her peppering kisses across your face, each one its own silent silly apology. When she brushed her lips towards your own, you gave in for a few seconds before turning your head away.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," you mumbled begrudgingly.

She quickly stilled your head’s movement with her hand and pulled it back towards hers, chasing after your lips. "Don't care, c'mere."

The kiss was the kind of domestic one that made you want to giggle uncontrollably despite knowing that you really shouldn't – though, if you did, Marlene would have joined you in a heartbeat. Marlene’s lips had the most beautifully prominent cupid’s bow you had seen, and you could feel the press of it against your own upper lip, could feel her smile and her love and her wish to stay with you.

You latched onto the last one.

“Just a little bit,” you mumbled against her lips as you snuck your hands up under her Heart sleep shirt to spread across her toned back and encourage her to lay down on top of you. “Five minutes, just five minutes.”

There was not an ounce of embarrassment in you for how much you wanted her with you, and there was not an ounce of judgment in her. A wolfish, pleased grin spread across her face as she relented and snuck under the blankets to lay comfortably on top of you, slotted between your legs with your chests pressed together. “Just five minutes, you say?” She spoke in between quick kisses, defined eyebrows raised at you teasingly.

“Mmm, maybe ten.” You didn’t bother hiding your smile, instead hooking your pinkies behind her ears to pull her face back up towards yours.

Marlene laughed into your mouth at a dangerous volume – thankfully you didn’t mind swallowing it with a kiss. You’re welcome Lily and Mary.

When you came apart, Marlene leaned her forehead against yours and heaved a theatrically overdone sigh, looking up at you through her lashes. “Whatever my girl wants, huh?”

Without giving you a chance to reply, she hooked an arm around your neck and one around your lower back before flinging herself sideways to flop back down on the bed, bringing you with her in her arms. It was a practised manoeuvre, one that landed you with your face in the crook of her neck and side pressed against her warm body, one that never failed to bring butterflies to your stomach.

You stared up at her as if she hung the moon, knowing full well that she was the sun.

The love must have been evident on your face because hers melted into a soft puddle before bringing your chin up with a finger beneath it to kiss you sweetly. “I love getting my way with you,” you teased, causing Marlene to snort.

“Yeah, I know you do,” she said dreamily. “But if you make me late to quidditch practice, I require at least a thousand kisses to make up for it.”

“Just for you, or does James need some as well?”

Marlene made a sound that effectively communicated gross that’s like my brother as she smacked your arm lightly, but you just laughed, holding her closer to you and kneading the flesh of her back contently. “You should enlist Sirius to give James his own thousand-fold kisses.”

“I reckon that will be easy enough,” you whispered, still laughing as you kissed along her cheek and jaw. “You drive a hard bargain, but I accept your conditions, McKinnon.”

Marlene shook her head and looked down at you with a gaze that was nothing short of lovesick. “What have I gotten myself into?”

[banditomojado]

Okay okay, I'm gonna try and talk about A Very Funny Monster. I'm obviously devastated and pissed off but this was still a great episode. Spoilers below

So they killed Nina... I was not expecting that at all. Maybe I should have... Her episode was so sad and I had tears in my eyes throughout. My poor Nina did not deserve any of the bullshit she had to endure in her life. I'm still in shock, I think I need some time to collect my thoughts on this. I'm very upset.

So annoyed that Eric somehow survived yet again. It was so satisfying to see The Bride fill him with bullets without a second's hesitation. Of course that wasn't enough to deter him from his stupid fantasy, it's hilarious but also incredibly annoying.

The new team reveal at the end was cool. GI is back and upgraded!!! That almost made up for the heartbreak of losing Nina. So awesome that King Shark is gonna be a part of the crew, I love him!!!

The Bride was amazing in this episode. Her seeing through the princesses lies was awesome and her monologue at the end there was layered and badass and ugh I love her so much. I had to look away when it showed her face reacting to Nina's dead body. She really loved her....

HATE HATE HATE that Fishbride can no longer be a thing. Sigh. At least there will be plenty of fics out there to read.

[luc-elementix]

Okay, I know I'm a few months late on this news but let's start this new year with something that could be nice.

Last summer, Mattel has renewed the trademark for Ever After High.

At first, there is no reason to get excited. Maybe it's just to prevent another company from using the trademark to do something with it (. But I read that Mattel did not renew the trademark even though it had expired since at least 2021. Why?

If you have been following me for a while, you know that I don't believe in a come back for Ever After High. Or more precisely, I don't think Ever After High will come back as the way we knew it.

Most people are hoping for the return of the beautiful animated series (after Mattel ignored emails from Studio Guru, I doubt they'll be up for producing EAH content again), the return of the dolls on the shelves (Why would Mattel risk losing the Disney Princess license again when EAH is one of the reasons they lost this easy money stream?) or even a crossover with the G3 of Monster High (which, I admit, would have a better chance of happening... even though Monster High has always been more popular than our fairy tale franchise!)

BUT...

With what happened last year with My Scene, I see a new option : What if Ever After High came back as collector dolls on Mattel Creation website?

Think about it.

Since 2020, Mattel has been releasing G1 dolls of Monster High on its website very regularly... and it's working well! (Besides, I feel sorry for the fans because with the releases that arrive every 2 weeks and the regular problems with buyer-bots on Mattel Creation, they must be struggling with their budget and mental health.) They can sell a doll at a collector price (which isn't always equals the quality of a "collector doll" but whatever) and they know they will please those who are willing to pay for a product that will tickle their nostalgia.

A release on Mattel Creation means also there would be no competition with Disney dolls since it would be a online release, and that Disney Princesses and Disney Descendants dolls are mainly sold in stores (at least for the US, we don't have the new Descendants dolls here in my country). In short, they don't take too many risks. And if it works, they can consider making it a regular release.

It's just a theory, of course.

But I think it's more likely to happen than a reboot. (Even if the return of Cupid in Monster High G3 gives some hope...)

Let's see if anything happens this year... 6__6

[fe-fictions]

I am once again asking for a fredrobin fic where Robin drinks poisoned wine meant for Chrom because she couldn't tell anyone in time, and it was the only way she could think of to save him. (She'll be alright but the Angst for our dear freddybear)

(So my plan to write 100 Fredrobin stories by the end of 2024 was immediately ruined when I started this prompt...so here's a 20+ page angst-filled dramafest to kick off 2025 instead! U V U )

A banquet was set to be held with Plegian envoys in the name of goodwill. Aversa, who had found herself the unwitting ruler of the desert kingdom, would be reuniting with you since the defeat of Valm and the subsequent death of Grima.

While you and the fellow Shepherds who had fought arm in arm with her were looking forward to a feast for the ages, others felt quite the opposite. Frederick himself had his concerns; although he trusted Aversa, it was the nobility none of you had met that had him on edge.

Well, him and every other Ylissean member of the court who would also be in attendance. You had your own concerns, considering tensions were still bubbling despite the past few years’ attempts at forming a peaceful bond between nations.

But in spite of the wariness, you still felt excitement in your heart as you readied yourself for the grand meal, set to take place only an hour after noon.

“Darling, have you seen the necklace you gifted me in Ferox during the first war?” You called to him from the bedroom, while fastening a handsome pair of earrings. 

You received a hum in response, his voice carrying from the washroom. “Are you certain that’s the necklace you want to wear today? I’m not sure Plegia would appreciate you wearing jewelry forged during the war we defeated them in.”

“Nonsense. They won’t know that. I wanted to wear it because Aversa always liked it. She said it was rather attractive; and was impressed that you had bought something so ‘sickeningly perfect’. I think she’d appreciate the callback.”

“Hmm…now I am even less certain it is a good idea.” He appeared from the washroom, holding a familiar, delicate chain in his hands. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It was, I promise.” You reassured him while you pulled your hair to the side, giving him access to the nape of your neck. “Her sense of humor is still developing.”

“I understand.” He stood behind you, the warmth of his fingers slipping the chain around your neck sending shivers down your spine. Frederick smiled to himself as he fastened the clasp. You were so cute, without even trying.

“Thank you, dear.” You tilted your head back to look at him, pulling your gaze from the mirror to your husband. “Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I ever will be, I suppose.” Frederick sighed, offering his hand. You rose to lean against him, your chests touching as you scrutinized his gaze.

“It’s going to be fine.” A scoff met your reassurance, but the two of you continued on your way, exiting your quarters in the castle to greet your guests.

The Plegian embassy that arrived at the front gates was handsome, and brought many gifts. Aversa, leading the charge, looked as devastatingly beautiful as always and wore a knowing grin that proved it.

Yet her eyes sparkled at the sight of you, all but ignoring the king, queen and high princess to address you directly (she at least had the good sense to greet them formally before she lasered in on you).

“Well, well…if it isn’t the Chief Tactician, back from the dead…” She bowed deeply, “Why, you haven’t aged a day!”

“It’s good to see you too, Aversa.” You beamed at her, slipping away from Frederick’s side to offer her a proper embrace. Aversa welcomed you with open arms.

“You have no idea how boring it was without you…I know we reunited properly months ago, but it feels like I've barely seen you since. You may as well have just come back yesterday!”

“It’s terrible, isn’t it? I’ll make more of an effort to come visit.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Otherwise I’ll simply kidnap you and whisk you back to Plegia!!”

“Do refrain from making such statements, milady. As the monarch of another kingdom that may be perceived as a threat by those around us.” Frederick spoke up quickly, as if the tension rolling off his shoulders wasn’t already blatantly obvious.

He glanced back at Chrom, Sumia  and Lissa, who simply chuckled when Aversa rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Frederick. You are my brother-in-law; surely you should understand the difference between a joke and a threat.” She sighed, relinquishing you back to your husband.

You patted his arm, “She’s right, dear; but thank you for always looking out for the kingdom. A true knight.”

“Indeed.” Chrom agreed, waving everyone in, “Now, shall we go and celebrate? This is quite the occasion! The first effort of goodwill between Ylisse and Plegia in forty years.”

“I hope it is magnificent, Lord Chrom.” Aversa’s eyes narrowed, “We brought some of our finest wine for this event, and we have high expectations for Ylissean cuisine.”

“You won’t be disappointed!” Lissa said, as bouncy and bubbly as ever. The troupe of nobles and royalty were quite a sight, drawing eyes from all over the castle. You squeezed Frederick’s arm; maybe this was a bigger deal than you had first thought.

And you already thought this was a huge deal.

Frederick covered your hand with his, a small comfort as the lot of you reached the banquet hall. It was a majestic, almost glorious, display.

Lights of all colors danced across the room from the immense stained glass windows. The spread was vast and diverse in palate, ornate chalices at each seat to be filled and countless dishes waiting to be devoured.

The Plegian envoy murmured to themselves in surprise. You bit back a giggle when Chrom’s chest puffed up ever so slightly; it appeared even he was proud of the extravagant luncheon.

“My, my…it appears I underestimated you, Lord Chrom. I doubt there’s a word strong enough to describe this display.”

“As much as I’d love to take the credit, that honor goes to the queen and your sister; they were the ones who put together the menu.”

“We did extensive research into each member of the envoy’s favorite dishes from Plegia. Everything from festival foods to home-cooking were taken into consideration!” Sumia said, practically bubbling over with excitement.

It was only the beginning of what was surely a joyous occasion. Everyone headed for their seats, with your place between Chrom and Aversa across from your husband (requested specifically by your sister; though Frederick was reluctant to agree despite “getting you all to himself”, according to her).

Just as your husband pulled your chair out, you hesitated; the table was clearly missing one of your most anticipated dishes.

“Oh, dear- it appears we’ve left something after all.” You huffed, looking back at your sister. “There’s something special I wanted to add specifically to your plate, Aversa. I know Gaius finished it a little while ago…and I wanted to give it directly to you.”

“And she wonders why she is my most favored sibling.” Aversa’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I can buy you a few moments if you want to scurry off and get it; you have that glint in your eye that says it must be here.” 

“Of course- Frederick dear, could you please make sure everyone else is seated and ready? I’ll only be a few moments.”

“Whatever you need. But do hurry; they will be pouring the drinks and preparing to toast soon.”

“I’ll be back in no time.” You promised, squeezing his hand before you hurried from the banquet hall.

The excited chattering that filled the room faded away as you hurried down the hallways into the kitchens. There were several butlers and maidservants that passed you by, their hands all filled with even more dishes that would soon be added to the spread.

The clamoring of joyous anticipation had filled the whole of the castle, it seemed. It made your heart swell with hopefulness.

You giggled to yourself, hustling into the kitchen and spotting the thief-turned-chef putting the finishing touches on one of the (several) desserts being prepared for the end of the meal.

“Well, well! What brings you here, Bubbles? You’re cuttin’ it awful close.”

“Sorry to disturb you, I know everyone’s trying to focus.” You said, maneuvering around the equally bustling sous chefs and kitchen staff. They were all performing their duties spectacularly, and you didn’t wish to interrupt their focus amidst the chaos of cooking.

“Then you’d best hurry up and talk- we’re runnin’ on a pretty strict schedule!” Gaius replied coolly, his relaxed expression suggesting this wasn’t as stressful a situation to him than it was the flittering staff surrounding you.

“The dish I asked you to make for Aversa– it wasn’t at her seat like we planned. Do you know where it is?”

“Right…” Gaius leaned back from the decadent cake he was frosting (and maybe stealing a lick of icing for himself), “That meager little thing. Y’know, it’s around here, I remember making it a little while ago. Couldn’t have wandered far…”

He gestured towards the oven, where a rack of breads and baked goods ready to go to the banquet were waiting. Yours shouldn’t be too hard to find, surely.

“I still don’t know why that’s the one you wanted to go for; I mean, it’s just rastons*. Not exactly fit for a royal feast.”

“That’s precisely why I wanted them just for the two of us.” You replied as you rifled around the shelves, searching among the warm breads for the little butter-filled buns you had requested.

“I mean, I guess. But of all the food you’re gonna eat, that’s what you wanna go for?”

“Just shut up and help me look.” You rolled your eyes at him, the pair of you sifting through the baked goods until you found exactly what you were looking for.

A humble set of four bread rolls, each one just as handsome and humble as you hoped. You smiled to yourself, hurriedly taking a small bowl and settling them inside. 

“Don’t worry; we’ll have plenty of room for the rest of the food you cooked. We just have to start with these!”

“Whatever, Bubbles. Just get back up there before everyone starts wondering where the star of the show is.”

“That’s Aversa and Chrom.” You corrected him, but did concede that you needed to get a move on. You thanked him on your way out, having spent only a few moments out of the way.

It was halfway back that you saw something strange. A servant that was following the lines to the hall suddenly stepped off to the side. Your brow furrowed, curiosity piqued.

You slowed down when you caught the servant looking behind them; that behavior was more than shady. The rastons were left on a windowsill, your shoes slipped off before you snuck after them.

After turning a couple corners, you followed them into a corridor that was tucked away from wandering eyes. 

Swiftly you ducked behind some old royal’s bust, watching as they pulled something from their glove.

No, not something; a vial.

A small, green vial.

Your brow furrowed, unable to make out what they were doing with it. You heard the soft pop of the cork, the sound of liquid pouring into liquid just barely reaching your ears from the distance you watched from.

But you couldn’t see what it was being poured into. There were plenty of drinks and sauces that were to be served over the next couple of hours. Whatever it was for, it couldn’t be good. 

“Has anyone seen Toumant?” 

You swiveled back, finding two butlers heading down the corridor. It seemed the voices carried far enough that the other servant heard it, too.

“I didn’t see him in line- did he get lost again?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him…he’s still in training.” You darted away, careful to avoid the pair taking a sharp turn down the adjacent hall. Your thoughts blurred together, adrenaline spiking your heart rate.

What did “Toumant” do? A servant-in-training; a new hire?

The butlers had reached the man and told him to get back to the banquet procession.

There was no time to waste. Shoes abandoned, you rushed to the grand hall, a cacophony of raucous noise all but shocking you out of your thoughts, drawing you back into the reality of the situation.

Everyone was seated, eagerly awaiting the end of the servants’ bringing in the last of the food for the preliminary courses. 

Every single person at that table was important. And if anything happened to one of them…you could kiss unity goodbye. Not even Aversa would be able to stop the chaos that would ensue if the wrong person was hurt.

“Robin, there you are! Come take your seat, dearie. We’re just about to pour the drinks.” Aversa called to you, her smile sweet.

You nodded, but your eyes were elsewhere; darting over each of the dishes laid out, ready to be eaten. None of them seemed to be tampered with. Everything looked great. Normal.

You swept over the surrounding servants; there were dozens of people milling about the table, still setting things out and bringing in more and more-

Toumant.

The last of the servants filtered in just as you took your seat, watching the pair of butlers usher in the third and final individual before they shut the grand doors.

“Looks like we’re ready to begin!” Chrom announced, rising from his seat. At his word a number of servants stepped forward, decanters filled with dark, rich Plegian wine in their hands. One of the butlers who had arrived with Toumant had a decanter as well. 

You watched as everyone went around the table, the goblets filled with alcohol. Aversa rose to her feet as well, holding out her own cup that was obediently filled as she spoke.

“In the name of peace and unity among our people…”

You weren’t sure who to watch – Toumant was shifting between bodies, seemingly trying to retreat back towards the walls as more wine was brought forward to fill those waiting.

“...It is my great honor to open this glorious celebration with Plegia’s greatest pride; our precious cinsault grape wine. We all hope that you find it as delightful as the meal which follows. This is truly a historic time for both our nations…”

The wine. Toumant’s gaze seemed to shift at its mention, lingering on Chrom for half a second. You followed his eyes; Chrom’s drink was being poured. 

You looked to Frederick, who seemed to be wholly invested in the speech. You tried to signal to him discreetly, but your ever-patriotic beloved was utterly enthralled with Aversa and Chrom’s words.

“...And hope that this will be the beginning of a prosperous and beautiful new relationship that will stand for centuries to come.”

You waited until the butler stepped away, eying the goblet. Your own had just been filled, a different servant with a different decanter. A different…color…?

Just slightly. 

Just slightly lighter than yours. Whatever was in that decanter was different from Chrom’s. Your heart pounded in your ears. The rest of the speech lasted only seconds longer, drowned out by the panic building in your head.

Aversa held her goblet high, taking the first sip as a symbolic gesture. She and Chrom took their seats, as the others raised their cups.

It was fortuitous that Chrom’s goblet was within reach. You slipped it away from his place, swapping it with your own. He didn’t seem to notice the movement; no one did. They were far too enthralled with the incoming feast.

You took his goblet into your hands, fingers shaking. Frederick looked to you with his warmest smile, unaware something was wrong. Not yet.

“Frederick-” You mouthed to him, the cups raised for the toast. He locked eyes with you, brow furrowing just slightly. “Someone’s trying to-”

“To Plegia and Ylisse!!” 

Aversa and Chrom said in unison, echoed by all those at the table. Everyone took their drinks up, your eyes falling to the drink. If it was poisoned…it should at least be you, shouldn’t it? Although it wouldn’t be difficult to pretend.

You raised the goblet to your lips, the liquid touching just briefly before you lowered it back to the table. You didn't ingest anything-- surely it was fine. Frederick's expression had relaxed when you met his eyes again, looking over at you with great pride.

“I’d say this is going just splendidly, wouldn’t you, Robin?” Aversa beamed, her cheeks flushed with the excitement of having made such a rousing speech. Perhaps that and the wine she already drained from her full goblet.

You looked to Chrom, who appeared to be equally flushed and bright with optimism. He had swallowed the wine, too; he seemed fine.

“Robin?”

The table blurred, your gaze shifting towards the back wall, searching for Toumant. He stood close to the doors- he looked confused.

“Robin, dear, are you all right?” 

Aversa’s voice was static in your ears. You blinked- which only served to make the blurry room spin. You could’ve sworn you heard Chrom and Frederick asking you a question, but they sounded miles away.

Your hands trembled, reaching out to try and steady yourself.

You weren’t sure if you missed, or you grabbed something wrong.

There was a clatter, the world fell out from under you, and a sharp pain stabbed into your chest.

You couldn’t breathe.

The good news was that your suspicions were correct.

The bad news was you tasted copper in your mouth.

The last thing you saw was the stone floor, trembling hands, and blood spattering between your fingers.

Then…nothing.

Frederick didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. You mouthed something to him, just as everyone raised their drinks.

Success was paramount, and everything was going perfectly. Had you found those rolls you left for? He hadn’t seen you return with anything.

By the time he lowered his goblet, your own had just barely passed your lips. Perhaps it wasn’t to your taste. A shame; it was truly delicious.

“I’d say this is going swimmingly. Look at all those pleased, round faces.” Aversa commented to him, gesturing to the ambassadors and nobility who were already digging in. “This may end better than I’d hoped.” 

“The speech that you and Lord Chrom gave set the perfect mood, milady. I wasn’t certain at first, but I must cautiously agree.”

“Surely you needn’t ‘cautiously’ agree. Can’t you simply ‘agree’, brother-in-law?” Aversa rolled her eyes, shaking her head at you. “Honestly, what do you see in this oversized worrywart, Robin?”

Frederick smiled into his drink; there were countless things. You had told him so many a time when he asked a similar question many years ago.

“Robin?”

He looked up from the goblet, finding a strange expression on your face. You looked disoriented. Almost pained.

Aversa’s tone shifted, setting her cup down to reach out for you.

“Robin, dear, are you all right?”

Frederick’s smile disappeared. You weren’t responding. Your face was pale. Chrom seemed to notice as well, touching your shoulder.

“Robin? What’s wrong?”

“My love, are you-”

Suddenly you fell from your chair, taking your place setting down with you. You grabbed at the mat, causing all of your tableware to crash and shatter on the stone floor.

Frederick’s chair crashed to the floor. He raced to you, desperate to help. You were braced on hands and knees, surrounded by broken glass. 

“Robin!!” 

“What the hells is going on?!”

Frederick grasped your shoulders, trying to hold you up. To his horror, your eyes were glazed over. Your skin was paper white, and blood-

Gods, there was blood dripping from your mouth.

“Gods, Robin!!” Lissa screeched, the cleric came to your side as the room descended into chaos. 

“Clerics- send for clerics, immediately!!” Aversa ordered, the ambassadors and servants alike all rushing towards the doors in a panic. The pandemonium was growing around them. 

But to your husband, the nightmare was happening right in front of him. He took you up in his arms, your breathing becoming shallower and quicker in the few seconds he’d lifted you from the floor to his chest. 

“Where is your stave??”

“The medical wing- there are emergency supplies in the councilroom!! It’s the closest-”

Frederick sprinted to the doors, forcing his way through the crowd that was filling the narrowing space in a horrific panic. Ice filled his veins, your entire body spasming. A trembling hand grasped at his chest, trying desperately to find purchase.

You were fading. Fast.

“Out of the way!! Everyone, out of the way!!” He bellowed, brute-forcing his way through bodies. His tactics only fomented further panic, uncoordinated nobles stumbling to the floor and servants hitting walls.

There was no time.

Lissa followed closely behind him, the two of them finally breaking out of the crowd and hurtling down the corridor. Frederick couldn’t have run faster- he was sprinting to the councilroom, feeling your heartbeat soften in each footstep. 

The spasming was slowing down- the blood was spilling faster.

“Hold on- hold on, love, please-!!” 

Lissa somehow had rushed in front of him, pulling open doors and making beeline for the chest in the furthest corner.

“Put her on the table!!” She shouted to him, pulling the Caduceus staff out. 

Frederick cradled your head, lowering you onto the massive table. He ripped the heavy chairs away, making space for Lissa to get to work. 

“She can’t breathe– can you cut the neckline–” 

He ripped the knife from his coat lining. He cut away the fabric, and snapped the necklace away.

The glow of the healing staff wasn’t changing anything. Healing spells were spilling from Lissa’s mouth, the magic shifting from your chest to your stomach, to holding it over your head.

Frederick grasped your hand, fingers pressed against your wrist. Your pulse was-

“Lissa, we’re losing her!”

“I-it’s not enough, I need more help!!” She managed between spells, panic rising in her voice. “It’s poison– it’s spread all over!!”

The breath flew from his lungs.

“Poison-?!” Chrom’s voice broke from behind them. He and Aversa raced into the room, the both of them looking utterly frightened.

“We need clerics, a-and antidotes, and anyone you can find who can hold a staff! She’s running out of time!!”

Aversa flew from the room, shouting hysterically with anger and fear. Someone poisoned Ylisse’s chief tactician. The queen of Plegia’s only sister.

Frederick’s sole reason for living.

“Robin, please–” His voice trembled, feeling your pulse weaken. “Please, my love, please–” 

Sobs were intermingling with Lissa’s spells, panic overriding all of their senses. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It couldn’t end like this.

“Lissa…!!”

Your pulse stopped.

A heartrending cry he would later realize was his ripped through the room. He would not register the room suddenly filling with healers, whipping past him and surrounding your body. 

Aversa was bellowing orders, demanding answers, demanding retribution– Frederick’s knees gave out, slamming to the ground, his hand limply relinquishing yours.

A hand on his shoulder –Chrom, someone– pulling him away from his wife.

“They need room to work, we need to go.”

He sounded miles away. His eyes lingered on your form until you were blockaded by the healers.

The hands multiplied on his shoulders and arms, pulling him back. He couldn’t find the energy to resist.

It was all he could do to keep his eyes on you, before the bodies surrounded you and the doors slammed shut.

The echo that followed the massive doors lingered in the air. And the Exalt, the Queen and the knight could only stand there, numb from the shock of what just happened.

“...Who did this?”

Aversa’s shaking voice was the first to break through the silence. 

“Who would dare…??”

“Poison…isn’t something commonly used in Ylisse.” Chrom said, brow furrowed as he tried to sort out his thoughts. “To do it now, of all times…this was an attempt to prevent peace before it could even happen.”

“We worked too hard. We worked too hard for this to be what comes of our efforts. To target Robin–” Aversa’s voice was little more than a burning hiss, her eyes widened with rising fury. “We must find the culprit. Immediately. If anything happens to her- if Robin does not survive, then–”

“Chrom!” Lissa’s voice lifted through the fog of their anxiety, breathless in the doorway. Frederick was the first to her side, the princess’ eyes dark. 

“Milady, is she–?”

“We’ve put her in stasis. The poison’s spread so far into her system that if we didn’t stop everything, she’d…”

Chrom’s hands were on his shoulders suddenly; ah…his legs nearly gave out, again.

You were at death’s door.

“What can we do?”

“We’ve identified the poison; what we need is an antidote.” 

“Name it.” Frederick stepped closer, jaw clenched. “Whatever she needs, I will find it.”

“It’s from the Plegian Duskviper. It has an elapid venom that normally would kill within seconds of being ingested…coming into contact with skin requires absorption, which can delay its impact for a few minutes. We think that’s what happened to Robin.”

“We have antivenom in Plegia’s capital. It’s a shy creature, very rarely encountered…but for the few imbeciles who would try to mess with one, we have a number of potions set aside in major hospitals.”

“How long would it take to retrieve?”

“If we can teleport, a few hours. Is there anyone-”

“Miriel and Laurent live 10 minutes away. Lord Chrom, please summon the Head Mage. She and Aversa will be able to start the teleportation spell in the meantime. Naga willing, we will save her.”

“We will.” Chrom swore to him, “But you should stay with her. Sumia can get to the mages faster with her pegasus.”

Frederick would have debated that, but the prospect  of leaving your side was less attractive than staying with you.

So instead, he agreed to stay. And the lot of them split, sprinting in whatever directions were needed. Frederick remained at the doors, Lissa assuring him that as soon as it was all right for him to see you, she would allow him in.

For now, he would wait. Trust that they would be able to save you…and pray he would not lose you again.

The slurring voices around you were difficult to decipher. At one point you remembered screaming.

You remembered trying to scream, but your jaw was clamped shut by an indescribable, inescapable pain that pierced through to your very bones.

You remembered…blurry faces, and sobbing, more screaming. Familiar warmth that quickly turned into searing heat, overwhelmed by a cold that suddenly turned to nothing.

A dreamless sleep.

Eventually, though…the world began to shift.

A strange pressure rose in your chest. As though there was no breath in your lungs. You felt a groan in your throat, trying to pull the air back in.

A coughing fit ripped you from the bleary darkness and forced you back into the world.

You felt a small hand on your back, rubbing circles while another pressed something to your lips. Water? Water.

You swallowed obediently, grunting at the dull stabbing in your throat.

The more you woke up, the more pain you felt.

“Easy, Robin…deep breaths. You’re all right.”

A thousand little needles were prickling into you all at once. Waves of pain that you couldn’t reach pressed deep into your body, far deeper than your skin.

What on earth was going on?

“Can you hear me? Do you feel okay?”

You nodded, then shook your head. A tired laugh followed, another cup pressed to your lips. The liquid had a taste; far more bitter.

“This will help soothe the pain and relax your muscles. I’m afraid there isn’t much more we can do until your body’s ready for another healing session. For now, please rest…let me help you…”

The voice became clearer, eventually recognizable as Lissa’s sweet tone. 

Your brow furrowed, trying to open your eyes. It felt like ages before you were able to see her. When the vision finally did come, it was quite blurred.

But the glassy blue eyes surrounded by a halo of soft, blonde hair was a blur you could recognize.

“Lis…”

Your voice was a thousand miles away. But she heard it.

“I’m here. I’m here, Robin…you’re okay.” Her hand touched your neck; it was a cool touch, but welcome. “Don’t push too hard. Can you finish the medicine?”

The cup returned to your lips. A  scrunch in your nose, your brow furrowed just so. The numbness that had enveloped your limbs was replaced slowly with a tingling sensation across your body.

“Attagirl.” The cup emptied, easing the tingling sensation.

Or perhaps the bitterness of the medicine that was still thick in your throat was distracting you from the other discomforts.

“I’ll get you some more water…oh, and I should let the others know you’re awake. Frederick will be beside himself!”

It took some effort, but you were able to turn your head to the side, watching the blurry figure scurry around the room. She was coming more into focus now; wearing medical garb instead of that lovely dress she was in earlier…

Your eyes focused further; the strange dark smatterings across the smock was blood.

“Is that…mine?”

“Hm? Oh.” She followed your eyes, brushing her fingers across the fabric. “Well…yes. You were in a bad way, Robin. It was close.” 

“What was it?”

“Poison. Though…I suspect you knew that.” Lissa returned to your side, a cup of mercifully clear liquid in it. Gingerly, she helped you lean back against the pillows, somewhere between sitting up and lying back.

The hand that came up to take the water from her trembled violently. Not quite ready to do that, yet.

“There was a name you kept repeating when you were coming back around. You were so feverish, we weren’t sure if it was gibberish or what, but– we discovered it was someone pretending to be a servant.”

“Toumant.”

“That's it.” She agreed, “Aversa locked that man down within hours. He was halfway out of a tavern window, but Frederick caught him.”

“He did?”

“I didn’t see it, but Aversa said it was amazing– he broke the man’s nose with a single strike, then just kept hitting him!! Gods, I wish I could’ve seen it. They won’t be able to interrogate the guy until they can get his jaw back in place.”

“H-he broke his jaw?” You were definitely waking up, now. You hoped you simply misheard, but Lissa nodded vigorously.

“Oh gosh, yes- it went on way longer than it should’ve, because Aversa was the first one in. She was cheering him on before Chrom came in, and he was the one who had to pry Frederick off that traitor! It was quite a sight, I’ve been told.”

It left you at a loss for words. It must have been much worse than you first thought.

“Is he…are they here?”

“I think Frederick and Aversa are waiting outside– do you feel up to seeing them? You’ve gone through a lot, today…if you need some more time alone, it’s okay.”

You shook your head, motioning for her to open the doors.

“My husband’s already broken enough bones.” 

The princess would abide by your request, and passed through the door to address the pair of people hovering in front of it.

You leaned back into the pillows, blinking slowly up at the ceiling. You were feeling much more alert, and your vision was almost back to normal.

Just in time to hear the squabbling beyond the door. And, when it finally opened again…

It was your husband who stepped through first. He searched the medical bay for only a moment before his eyes fell on your bed.  His expression shifted to something unreadable. It was a mixture of sadness and relief that was impossible to look away from.

Then he locked eyes with you.

A soft gasp fell from his lips. In six strides Frederick crossed the room and reached your bedside. Without a word, his arms came around you, all but lowering his entire frame onto yours from where you laid.

If you could lift your arms, you would. All you could do was take in his sweet warmth, his embrace tightening with each breath he felt you take.

“My love…” His words were a fragile whisper, “...Robin, I…a-are you all right?”

He pulled back, just enough to look you over. The brimming tears in his eyes made your heart lurch. 

“Does anything hurt? The antivenom, I…I was told it would be difficult to ingest, and…” You lost track of his words, the worried rambling only growing quicker as he continued his inspection.

His hand touched your cheek, then your neck and shoulder, sliding down your arm as the other wandered across your stomach, searching for any discomfort you might be feeling.

The same hands that were wrapped in bandages, faded spots of blood seeping through the linen where his knuckles should be clean.

You looked up at him, his gaze sweeping up and down your frame in search of missed injury,  rambling on about something related to the poisoning.

He did not stop until a small hand reached up, and cupped his cheek.

“Frederick,”

His breath hitched, his body stilled. Delicate fingers fell to his collar, tugging him weakly forward. Obediently, longingly,  the distance between you faded.  

When your lips touched, he finally paused. The kiss was soft, slow to start. Frederick had stuttered against your advances, but melted into it without a second thought. He pressed into you, breaking apart for a whisper of a breath before he returned it, harder, more urgent.

It was difficult to pull away from him, harder still to catch your breath. Frederick’s cheeks flushed, gingerly settling you back into the pillows.

“Forgive me. I…I did not mean to get ahead of myself. Gods, and while you’re recovering from-”

“It’s okay.” Your whisper drew away the guilt, your trembling hand returning to his cheek darkened the blush.

“Darling…” He covered your hand with his, leaning into your touch. Your fingers were still unsteady against his warmth, but he found it reassuring. A sobering reminder of what could have been.

What almost was.

“I heard…you…broke a lot of bones.”

He scoffed, “A coward almost killed my wife. Had I not been stopped, I would have done far worse than break bones. That was a mercy.”

“He wasn’t– trying to poison me.” You swallowed, “I-it was Chrom. I switched the cups when…I figured out what w-was going on.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His face was tight, lowering your hand to his heart.

“I tried.” You shook your head, “I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I didn’t drink it, I’d be fine.”

“If it were any other poison, perhaps it would have been. It was Duskviper venom.” He informed you gravely. Your stomach flipped.

“Duskviper…? I-I should be dead.”

“The healers put you in stasis for hours. Aversa retrieved antivenom from Plegia, and they were able to reverse its effects before it was too late. But it was…it was close.”

You looked away, squeezing his fingers tight. “I’m so sorry, Frederick. You must’ve been…so scared.”

He was silent, intertwining his fingers between yours. 

“I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what was going on until it was too late. And if I’d known it was Duskviper, of all things…”

“What matters is you are safe.” He sighed softly, drawing you into his embrace once more. “You are still with me. You are still here.”

“I am.” You promised, nuzzling into his chest.

His heartbeat had steadied; it was back to the strong, slow thump that had soothed your deepest anxieties countless times. 

He threaded his fingers in your hair, stroking tenderly. He relished such soft moments; to think he had been mere seconds from watching it all slip away, again.

You wanted to stay in his arms forever. There was no safer place than snuggled up with your big, brown bear. But the impatient knocking on the door suggested it was time you let other visitors in.

Frederick reluctantly withdrew, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I’m sure it is Aversa. She has been waiting patiently…”

“Are you willing to share me yet?” You mused, in spite of the weariness in your voice. Frederick kissed you once more, before he forced himself to leave your bedside.

“If you wish to hear my honest answer, certainly not. I would rather whisk you away to the mountains…far from anyone else for at least a fortnight...perhaps two.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a vacation, if you’re offering.”

“Then I shall arrange it, immediately.” Frederick decided as he opened the door, just in time for Aversa to burst in with a wild look in her eyes. She was hunting for you, rather than searching- and once she locked onto you, she all but sprinted over.

“Sister!!” 

She rushed to you, elegant fingernails immediately digging into your shoulders. She wrapped you up in a tight hug, settling you firmly against her chest.

“Gently, Aversa– she’s only just woken!” Frederick hurried back to you, preparing to wrestle her off of you. She all but growled at him, hugging you closer.

“Please, I’m the one who brought the antidote!! I should be allowed a few moments to hold my only sister! Besides, you were doing more than hugging before you finally let me in. I’m sure her pains have eased by now.”

“That’s the medicine, I’m sure…” You coughed some, which finally saw Aversa’s release. She held your face in her hands, her sharp eyes betrayed by the tear stains on her cheeks.

“Do you have any idea how frightened we were?? And when you pulled half the table down with you! What in Grima– what in Naga’s name were you thinking?!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought if I didn’t drink it, then–”

“Oh, please. You know better than to put strange liquids anywhere close to your body!! Did I teach you nothing?”

“You taught me plenty.”  You giggled, though it only seemed to upset her further.

“Honestly, you fool…what were we supposed to do if you really died?? You think Naga would give you a third chance at life? And what about us?? Did you think for a second what it would do to poor Frederick? Haven’t you tormented us enough?”

“I was trying to protect Chrom. That’s all on my mind in that moment.” You looked past her to your husband hovering behind the cross woman.

“If Chrom is meant to die by assassination, so be it. You are no longer to put yourself between anyone and yourself, do you understand me? Or so help me gods, I will come to the afterlife and kill you again!”

“Again, Aversa, I would caution you to refrain from such language…especially given the events of today.”

“I speak nothing but the truth.” She huffed, giving you one more squeeze. “Though, there is one thing on my mind.”

You laid back again, prompting Frederick to come to your side and help prop you more comfortably. His hand lingered on your shoulder.

“What was so important you left the banquet in the first place? Even he wouldn’t say what was going on.”

“I asked Gaius to bake rastons for us.” You explained softly, and her breath hitched. “I haven’t seen you in so long, and we had so many fond memories eating them together on the campaign…I thought it might be nice to reminisce a little.”

She stared at you in utter disbelief; that surely couldn’t be the reason.

“Robin, you…” Aversa hiccuped, shaking her head before all but tackling you into another hug. “You sweet, stupid thing!!”

“I love you, too, Sister.” You chuckled, holding her close. Frederick knelt beside you, putting a gentle arm around you both.

He and Aversa had grown close in your time apart; your loss had bonded them in grief, which had blossomed into a true, familial relationship that only made your time together sweeter.

He was a kind, patient big brother…as he was a loving husband. You leaned into him, committing this moment to memory. In spite of the pain, the fear and the horrific events that preceded it…being wrapped in an embrace with the most important and beautiful people in your life was something you would never regret.

It was an important reminder of what you had, and what you would never allow yourself to lose, again. And considering your recovery was spent with the two of them hovering around you constantly, it seemed that sentiment was held by them both, as well.

As if you needed reason to love them more than you did already.

Rastons are a medieval bread roll that are stuffed with butter..very simple, very delicious! Robin introduced them to Aversa during the campaign, and she fell in love with them... whenever they got their hands on them, it was quite a treat! U V U

[pureshoney]

abel can acknowledge that his plan to indeed punish her could go either way, his girl could indeed learn a lesson, or she might become even more whiny if he didn't give into her need to feel him filling up that velvety cunt of hers. but the thought of finding out her reaction was enough for the male to push through with the idea. at least once. "hm … it might be a double-edged sword, but i still think it's worth it. watching my pretty girl not get what she wants? would make me even fuckin' harder than i am right now," can't help the smug grin that tugs itself on the ends of brims. "i like that idea, princess. stuff a few fingers inside of you while i have a toy fucking your tight little ass," the possibilities were endless. hell, they could shove two toys inside of her holes and have her fuck herself on them. can tell how badly the redhead wants to touch herself, sees it in the way her hips move while her head bops up and down on his length. how her hands itch to rub those needy fingers currently playing with his balls against her clit instead, "being such a good girl for daddy, huh? i know how wet that pussy is … how badly you want to touch yourself, but all your attention is on me? good girl, princess …" because as much as abel could talk about punishing ainsley for that bratty mouth, she deserves to hear praise when she deserves it and right now is one of those moments. his absolute favorite part is when he can hear the light gagging sounds releasing from femme's throat when she dives her head down; those lips coating his length in drool. the vibrations of her own choking shooting straight into his core, his tip leaking pre cum into her mouth while his hand released the back of her head as she moved back to take a breath, allowing her to retake control. "fuck … that's so good, baby," abel groaned when her tongue flattened against the bottom of his length and trailed it's way up once more.

it was debatable whether ainsley would learn her lesson, after all she was outspoken by nature and having her body used without getting anything in return might just make that brattiness even worse. "it's just going to punish you too, baby. it's no fun when you cum on your own hand abel. why wouldn't you want to put it inside me? i have three holes you can choose from", redhead reminds him with a saccharine smile, a flush to her cheeks and nipples pebbled under her dress. she can't handle the thought of not having his seed at least coat her skin, it just seems so unfair for him to truly punish her. "mm, i think i'd like that daddy. maybe you can play with one of my holes when you fuck my mouth? and then we can use a toy for the other one? it feels so good when you stuff me like that." as if her body was close to breaking, each thrust of a cock or toy so intense she felt like crying. "i can't help it, daddy. you taste so good and those toys don't, but it's your decision", an attempt to salvage some of that good girl reputation, letting her man decide which hole is lucky enough to have his fat dick pushing inside it. even if abel is desperate for her to take all of him in the mouth he adores so much ainsley is determined to savour it, to slather his dick with her saliva and palm his heavy balls while doing so. hues half lidded the femme merely nods to his praise, nostrils flaring as she takes more, ducks her head and whimpers against his hot length. god, she wants to touch herself so badly — slide that other hand between her own thighs and rub her swollen clit to completion. but she won't, she can't. instead her hand remains at his base, spit coating the digits as she rises further up on her knees. inhaling deeply through her nose she swallows the last few inches of his dick, tip hitting that spot at the back of her throat and making her shoulders jolt, throat tightening as she gags and gurgles against him — yet remains there, sucking in her cheeks and only moving her head up an inch or so before coming back down again. the sounds seem amplified in the house of worship, her filthy choking bouncing off those pristine walls and stained glass windows, chest jumping as she forces herself to lazily slip her lips back up his slick shaft. "mm, s'fuckin' amazing daddy", femme whispers, utterly blissed out as her hand moves to twist and tug, tongue lapping at his leaking head before repeating the process all over again.