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usagiarchive · 2 months ago

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angel of the codeine scene — [07] fan the flames of the fire

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sypnosis. [ 1.4k words. slightly suggestive two sentences? ] — blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name, backstory stuff, um, what else?

usagi's note: hi 😊 i feel like you guys deserve to have a update because im in a good mood and also because i painted today, i really like painting.

“Where are we going?” you ask as your eyes were covered by your lover.

“We're almost there, don't worry,” he murmurs as he guides you to step over what seems like an uphill path.

You feel the winds whip at your body, you could hear the birds chirping and echoing from however high you were right now.

“Open your eyes,”

When you do, you could only see the tops of the mountains from the fog covering them, the sunset almost makes it look walkable with how the sun's rays filter through the clouds.

“It's beautiful,” you whisper.

“Yeah, it is,”

You look back at Xiao as he puts a flower in your hair.

“It really is,” he repeats.

Your face burns at his words and you look away, “How'd you find this place anyway?”

“Found it while Bona and I took down that one god that had wings,” he says as he picks up another flower, “Was really hard to kill, but we pulled it off, found this place as we headed back to base,”

He twirled the flower in his hand.

“It's called qingxin,” he murmurs, “A flower that grows in hard to reach places, but can be used for medicinal purposes,” he looks up, meeting your eyes.

“Just like you.”

…

Xiao's anger for you leaving (but really, it's just him worrying, anger is often a blanket for emotions one does not want to face after all) disappates the moment he hears you say that.

“Y-you’re- you remember?” he asks as he steps closer to you.

You shrug, twirling a horsetail in your hand, “I don't remember everything…?” you look up at him, “But I remember enough,”

Xiao was still in awe, there were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to tell you.

Instead, he settles for sitting down next to you and holding your hand gently.

You smile at him a little, intertwining your fingers with his.

“I'm glad,” he finally says, “Welcome home, qingxin,”

The two of you enjoy the sound of the running water, the cool breeze, and the rays of the sun on your skin, until Xiao speaks up.

“Can- can you not do that again?”

“Hm? Do what?”

“Leave without saying anything,”

“Oh,” you felt really guilty when he said that, “Sorry, I didn't think you'd let me go to the Harbor alone or find out who I am to you,”

In hindsight, it would've been better to leave a message with Verr, but you think she would've called Xiao in that moment.

He sighs, “I have no care for what you do in the Harbor, so long as I know where you are or who you're with,”

“Okay,”

It was… awkward.

“Was this why you didn't get close to me before?”

“Yes,” he says, “I didn't… know if you were the same as the past you or if you were someone new entirely.”

“Oh,”

“I… I know now you're not the same, you're not my past,” he takes a breath, “But rather my future,”

You laugh a bit, “I think we're moving a little fast, xiansheng,”

He flushes green, ah, you missed that.

Xiao stutters which makes you laugh harder, “Don't worry, I’ll be happy to choose you as my future, too, Xiao,”

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, “I missed you, welcome home,”

…

From a distance, an Archon of old smiles as he witnesses the sight of two lovers reuniting.

“So Morax, how's being Cupid going for you?”

“Barbatos, I have told you not to drop in unannounced, yes?”

“But the wind told me you were up to something!”

He sighs in resignation.

…

In the following months, Xiao has been closer to you, he's more talkative, too. He usually tells you stuff he's seen while on patrol as you wait on the balcony of the inn.

Recently, he's acted more and more like a bird, he's taken to bringing you shiny trinkets, gems of cor lapis, crystalfly cores, jewelry he knows you like, and the most recent one, a jade bi tethered to him.

(“It's so I know you're safe, even if we're not together, just in case,” he tells you as he enchants the jade to your being and sews it to his sleeve after.)

He's taken you closer during fights, too. Morax-shen says it's because he's learning to trust you.

Baizhu is still surprised at the development when you tell him about it after your lessons, speaking of which, you've recently been hired at Bubu Pharmacy as an Apothecary.

A position you've been granted after you've surpassed Baizhu, courtesy of Changsheng-xiaoren who was the one to suggest a position and the one to recognise your abilities.

Everyday, Xiao is there to pick you up and take you home, staying in the city or up in the cliffs as he waits. He still doesn't like being away from you.

…

Zhongli-shen asks you about the situation wth the traveller a while later as the two of you are having tea in the harbor.

“Oh, that, yeah we talked about it,” you say and tell him the details.

(“Lumine isn't like that to me, she is only someone I owe, she helped me in my duty to protect Liyue, Zhongli also considers her to be a dear friend, so I must honour that sentiment, too,” Xiao tells you as he eats the Almond Tofu you've cooked for him.

“You have no need to worry, my heart and soul only belongs to you,” he says as he chews, “I have waited this long for you, do not think I will look to someone else for your affection,”

He says it so casually you think it wouldn't be a line in a best selling romance book.)

“Seems like your jealousy has been solved,” Zhongli says as he hides behind his tea, “Xiao has been enthusiastic, I see,” he teases, eyeing the marks under your collar.

“Zhongli-shen!” you squawk as you flick him playfully, half ashamed, “We haven't gone that far,” you murmur.

Which was true, partially, Xiao did get pretty heated during kisses, the farthest the two of you have gone was you sitting on his lap, but never farther than that.

“I am glad both if you have resolved it,” he says.

“Me, too…”

…

Thankfully, the frustrating dreams of not knowing had come to a stop, your memories didn't completely come back, but it was enough to know what had happened between the past you and Xiao.

You remember the important parts at least.

With those stopping, you had been sleeping well more, giving more of your energy to hone your healing abilities.

Recently, Xiao had gotten into a pretty big scuffle with the Fatui as they terrorized a merchant caravan.

You had to heal him a lot for the first time in a while, which led the both of you to discover that it takes out a lot of energy out of you.

(“It's only the balance of the universe, Xiao, a give and take of energies. I'll be okay, I just need to-” you yawn, “-get some rest…”

You see him frown and you smile a bit.

“So worried over me, xiansheng,” you tease and he flicks your forehead but sighs.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says softly as he kisses your cheek.

You lean into him more.

“I love you, too, Xiao,”)

…

“Is it too tight?” Xiao asks as he ties the ribbon on your cheongsam.

You shake your head, “No, just right.”

“You've eaten?”

You turn around and cradle his face, “Yes, xiansheng, I have, please stop worrying, come on you still have patrol.”

Xiao sighs, “Fine, let's go.”

He pulls you into a princess carry and asks if you're ready before he warps to the top of a cliff, close enough that he can see you, but far enough away from trouble.

He opens his mouth but you speak first.

“I'll stay here, I'll be good, I'll get out in case of trouble,” you say, just as he recites every patrol.

You stifle a laugh as he just stares at you, “Fine, I love you,” he says and warps away.

“Hey!”

…

It takes some time for Xiao to return, in half an hour, you couldn't see him anymore, you figured he might've been chasing monsters so you turn to studying the herbs on the cliff instead.

With your notebook opened, you plucked a violetgrass from the side of the cliff, let's just not tell your lover that you had to lay down to not fall off.

You log where you are and what kind of plants were on the cliff. Mints, violetgrass, and sweet flowers were the ones present there.

“The sweet flowers would make good sugar for Almond Tofu,” you say and began to pluck those you see around the cliff.

You spot another patch in clumps, but the moment you had a hard time pulling the second one, you knew exactly what you pulled. Fuck.

“Xiao!”

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usagi's note: in case it wasn't clear, the italicized texts are flashbacks or memories. anyway, i will post the next chapter later? or tomorrow? idk u guys tell me pls in the comments or send an ask. ENJOY LANTERN RITE BYE!!

taglist (open! green can't be tagged): @irenedoesthings @cherrysnows @makuzume @smoochi-modest @bvtterflyyy @original-person @aphxdea @iratempestatis @constellationguy @lloversss @femaholicc

@usagiarchive 2024. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

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greenwitchcrafts · 1 year ago

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Updated version:

December 2023 witch guide

Full moon: December 26th

New moon: December 12th

Sabbats: Yule December 21st-January 1st

December Cold Moon

Known as: Drift Clearing Moon, Frost Exploding Tree Moon, Moon of the Popping Trees, Hoar Frost Moon, Snow Moon, Winter, Aerra Geola, Maker Moon, Heilagmanoth, Long Night's Moon, Oak Moon, Wintermonat, Moon of the Long Night, Little Spirit Moon, Wolf Moon & When the Deer Shed Their Antlers Moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Sagittarius & Capricorn

Nature spirits: Snow, Storm, & Winter Tree faeries

Deities: Athena, Fates, Hades, Hathor, Hecate, Ixchel, Minerva, Neith, Norns, Osiris & Persephone

Animals: Bear, deer, horse & mouse

Birds: Robin, rook & snowy owl

Trees: Fir, Holly & Pine

Herbs: Bay, cedar, chamomile, cinnamon, English ivy, evergreen, fir, frankincense, holly, mistletoe, myrrh, pine & sage

Flowers: Christmas catus, holly & poinsettia

Scents: Cedar, cinnamon, frankincense, ginger, lilac, myrrh, nutmeg, patchouli, pine, rose geranium, rosemary, saffron, violet & wintergreen

Stones: Bloodstone, blue topaz, cat's eye, garnet, jacinth, obsidian, peridot, turquoise, zircon, ruby & serpentine

Colors: Black, blood red, gold, green, red, silver, black & white

Energy: Alchemy, darkness, endurance, death & re-birth, higher education, publications, reaching out to others, religion, spiritual paths, travel & truth

Today, December’s full Moon is most commonly known as the Cold Moon—a Mohawk name that conveys the frigid conditions of this time of year, when cold weather truly begins to grip us.

This full Moon has also been called the Long Night Moon (Mohican), as it rises during the “longest” nights of the year, near the December winter solstice. This name is doubly fitting because December’s full Moon shines above the horizon for a more extended period than most full Moons.

In Europe, ancient pagans called the December full Moon the “Moon Before Yule,” in honor of the Yuletide festival celebrating the return of the sun heralded by winter solstice.

Yule

Also known as: Alban, Arthan & Winter Solstice

Season: Winter

Symbols: Baskets of clove studded fruit, Christmas catus, decorated evergreen trees, evergreen boughs, gifts, gold pillar candles, hung mistletoe, poinsettias, wreaths & Yule logs/small Yule log with three candles

Colors: Gold, green, orange, red, silver, white &yellow

Oils/incense: Bayberry, cedar, cinnamon, frankincense. Myrrh & pine

Animals: Bear, boar, deer (stag), pig, squirrel & tiger

Birds: Eagle, goose, kingfisher, lapwing, owl robin & wren

Stones: Bloodstone, garnet, ruby, alexandrite, blue topaz, cat's eye, citrine, clear quartz, diamond, emerald, green tourmaline, jet, kunzite & pearl

Foods: Caraway cakes, cookies, eggnog, fruits, ginger tea, nuts, pork, spiced cider, turkey, wassail & lamb's wool (ale, sugar, nutmeg & roasted apples)

Herbs/plants: Bay, bayberry, birch, blessed thistle, cedar, chestnut, cinnamon, evergreens, fir, frankincense, ginger, holly, ivy, juniper, mistletoe, moss, myrrh, oak, pine, rosemary, sage, valerian & yellow cedar

Flowers: Chamomile, poinsettia & yarrow

Goddesses: Alcyone, Aphrodite, Ameratasu, Bona Dea, Brighid, Cailleach Bheur, Demeter, Diana, Fortuna, Frau Holle, Frau Perchta, Frigga, Gaia, Hel, Great Mother, Idunn, Isis, Ishtar, Kolyada, La Befana, Maat & Tiamat

Gods: Apollo, Attis, Balder, Bragi, Dionysus, Divine Child, Green Man, Helios, Holly King, Horned one, Horus, Janus, Lord of Misrule, Lugh, Mabon, Marduk, Mithras, Odin, Ra, Saturn & Surya

Issues Intentions & Powers: Darkness, divination, light, messages/omens, purification, rebirth/renewal & transformation

Spellwork: Earth magick, happiness, harmony, love & peace

Activities:

• Set up & decorate a Yule altar

• Clean, organize & cleanse before decorating your home

• Make witch's balls to hang on your tree (protective & pretty!)

• Decorate & bless & Yule tree

• Stay awake until dawn to observe the cycles of nature

• Give gifts tomyour family & friends

• Donate your time or helpful items to charity

• Go caroling

• Hang mistletoe in your doorways

• Make Wassail

• Prepare a Yule Log

• Host a Yule feast

• Craft your own decorative wreath

• Decorate your house with Yule colored candles

• Welcome the Sun

• Go on nature walks & leave offerings to nature

• Meditate & reflect on the passing year

“Yule” comes from Old English geol, which shares a history with the equivalent word from Old Norse, jól. Both these words referred to a midwinter festival centered around the winter solstice, which traditionally marked the halfway point of the winter season. After the solstice—the shortest day of the year—the days again begin to grow longer, so it’s thought that Yule was a celebration of the re-appearance of the Sun &the fertile land’s rebirth.

The celebration of Yule is one of the oldest winter celebrations in the world. Ancient people were hunters & spent most of their time outdoors. The seasons & weather played a significant part in their lives. The customs and traditions associated with it vary widely.

Scholars have connected the original celebrations of Yule to the Wild Hunt, the god Odin, and the heathen Anglo-Saxon Mōdraniht ("Mothers' Night")

Some believe it marks the rebirth of the Sun (the God) from the Earth (the Goddess) & the cold days of winter will soon begin to wane. The Goddess is seen in her virgin Maiden aspect

In towns and cities throughout Sweden during the Christmas season, large goats are constructed out of straw. It is thought that the tradition originated in ancient times, perhaps as a tribute to the god Thor, who was said to ride in a chariot pulled by goats. In Sweden the goat came to be associated with the Christmas celebration, and the Yule goat is now considered by many to be a companion or counterpart to Santa Claus.

Related festivals:

Christmas- An annual festival commemorating the birth of Jesus Christ as the son of God, primarily observed on December 25th

Hanukkah- A Jewish festival commemorating the recovery of Jerusalem & subsequent rededication of the Second Temple at the beginning of the Maccabean Revolt against the Seleucid Empire in the 2nd century BCE.

Hanukkah is observed for eight nights & days, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late December in the Gregorian calendar. The festival is observed by lighting the candles of a candelabrum with nine branches, commonly called a menorah or hanukkiah.

Kwanzaa- An annual celebration of African-American culture from December 26 to January 1st, culminating in a communal feast called Karamu, usually on the sixth day. It was created by activist Maulana Karenga, based on African harvest festival traditions from various parts of West & Southeast Africa. Kwanzaa was first celebrated in 1966.

A Kwanzaa ceremony may include drumming and musical selections, libations, a reading of the African Pledge & the Principles of Blackness, reflection on the Pan-African colors, a discussion of the African principle of the day or a chapter in African history, a candle-lighting ritual, artistic performance & finally, a feast of faith (Karamu Ya Imani).

Saturnalia-

is an ancient Roman festival and holiday in honour of the god Saturn, held on 17 December of the Julian calendar & later expanded with festivities through to 23 December. The holiday was celebrated with a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn, in the Roman Forum & a public banquet, followed by private gift-giving, continual partying & a carnival atmosphere that overturned Roman social norms: gambling was permitted & masters provided table service for their slaves as it was seen as a time of liberty for both slaves and freedmen alike.

A common custom was the election of a "King of the Saturnalia", who gave orders to people, which were followed & presided over the merrymaking. The gifts exchanged were usually gag gifts or small figurines made of wax or pottery known as sigillaria. The poet Catullus called it "the best of days".

Other celebrations:

Feast of Epona-

Eponalia is the feast day of Gaulish Goddess Epona, the Divine Mare & in the time of the Roman Empire it was celebrated on December 18th.

Epona is known to be one of a very few Gaulish deities whose names were spread to the rest of the Roman Empire. This seems to have happened because Roman cavalry units stationed in Gaul followed Her & adopted her as their Patroness. This may have started because many of the cavalry troops were conscripted from Gaul as they were superb horsemen. From Gaul the Romans took Epona with them including to Rome where She was given her own feast day on the 18 December. They worshipped her as Epona Augusta or Epona Regina & invoked her on behalf of the Emperor. She even had a shrine in the barracks of the Imperial Bodyguard.

Hunting of the Wren-

A traditional custom carried out on the Isle of Man on the 26 December, St. Stephen's Day. It consists of groups of people going around villages and towns singing and dancing a traditional song and dance around a decorated wren pole.

The earliest and most common folklore story accounting for the origin of hunt the wren tells of a fairy/enchantress/witch whose beauty lures the men of the Isle of Man to harm, for which she is chased and is changed into the form of a wren. It is therefore in punishment for her actions that the wren is hunted on St. Stephen's Day

Sources:

Farmersalmanac.com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Llewellyn's 2023 magical almanac: practical magic for everyday living

Wikipedia

Encyclopedia Britannica

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forwjsncosmic · 1 year ago

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Pyramid Game Promo:

Bona, Shin Seulki, and Jang Daah appeared on Jaejae's 2PM Date radio broadcast to discuss Pyramid Game among other things - MBTI, takeout food, etc.

Original Video:

Subbed Video:

youtube

#wjsn #bona #wjsn updates #cosmic girls #bona updates #kim jiyeon #shin seulki #jang daah #jaejae #kpop #pyramid game #Youtube

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gonelike-ach00 · 6 months ago

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the warmth of youth | nct 00 line

ｍａｓｔｅｒｌｉｓｔ

high school! nct 00 line (renjun, jeno, haechan, jaemin, yangyang) x high school! female original character

for quicker updates, you can read it on ao3 or wattpad

summary:

Renjun and Bona has always been friends. They've known each other since they were kids, but why was Renjun suddenly all interested in romance and someone else?

Jeno finds himself at odds with Eunji, the girl who just happens to take his spot as the number one student of their school.

Haechan was always so bright and cheerful and energetic that it was hard to imagine him as anything else. That's until Mina stumbles into his little secret.

Jaemin and Naeun have nothing in common except their common friends, until he starts working for her family's restaurant and they shared a lot more things in common than they thought.

Yangyang knew that Sua was someone he wasn't supposed to be around. Except he catches her at the train and then in school. Not talking to her only became a lot harder than he thought.

genre:

fluff, angst, slice of life, high school romance, recurring anthology

structure:

this work features five lead couples, where each chapter would be dedicated to each their own story. you can imagine it as five fanfics all happening at the same time. the intention to write the fanfic like such is deeply rooted in the idea that although romance is important and the highlight of this fic, it is just as important to highlight platonic connections that help shape your character.

notes:

My favorite genre of nct fanfics is when they're a group of friends first before they are romantic leads. Self-indulged fluff fic inspired by: nijiiro days & koi ni mudagachi

ｃａｓｔ

ｃｈａｐｔｅｒｓ

ᴏɴᴇ - jeno ᴛᴡᴏ - renjun ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ - yangyang ꜰᴏᴜʀ - jeno ꜰɪᴠᴇ - haechan ꜱɪx - jaemin seven - yangyang eight - haechan nine - renjun

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junkobato · 1 year ago

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Upcoming Kdrama February 2024 🌈

5/2: Branding in Seongsu with Kim Ji Eun, Lomon. 24 episodes; supernatural, business, romance.

9/2: A Killer Paradox with Choi Woo Shik, Son Sok Ku, Lee Hee Joon. 8 episodes; supernatural, mystery, thriller.

26/2: Wedding Impossible with Jun Jong Seo, Moon Sang Min, Kim Do Wan. 12 episodes; rom-com.

28/2: the Impossible Heir with Lee Jae Wook, Lee Joon Young, Lee Ji Hoon. 12 episodes; Business, drama.

29/2: Pyramid Game with Bona, Jang Da A, Ryu Da In. 10 episodes; thriller, mystery.

Reblog for updates!! :)

#upcoming kdrama #branding in seongsu #a killer paradox #wedding impossible #the impossible heir #pyramid game #kim ji eun #choi woo shik #son sok ku #lee hee joon #kim do wan #lee jae wook #lee joon young #bona

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blackpinkofficialupdates · 1 year ago

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Jisoo and Bona

#jisoo #bona #240215 #blackpink #kim jisoo #blackpink updates #friends #wjsn #kim jiyeon

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cantsayidont · 2 months ago

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So, let's say you've endured the awful 2024 Robert Eggers remake of NOSFERATU (my condolences) — OR, you were curious about it, but have so far managed to avoid it. Here's what you should see next if you watched the Eggers atrocity (or instead, if you haven't):

NOSFERATU, PHANTOM DER NACHT (NOSFERATU THE VAMPYRE) (1979): Languid, magnificently composed Werner Herzog spin on DRACULA — like the Eggers film, a loose remake of the 1922 silent, which was a Germanized adaptation of DRACULA — starring Klaus Kinski as the pathetic, infinitely lonely Dracula, an embodiment of plague whose coming brings not only death, but the collapse of social order, with Isabelle Adjani at her most achingly beautiful as the frightened but ultimately heroic object of his lust and instrument of his destruction, and Bruno Ganz as the hapless, doomed Jonathan. Herzog situates the story's horror very differently than most DRACULA stories: The scariest thing in the film is not Dracula, but rather the slow, implacable advance of time, against which both the living and the undead are powerless. Herzog's existentialist themes largely mute the 1922 film's antisemitism, and the 1979 film takes a rather more ambivalent attitude toward the original's themes of Christian martyrdom. CONTAINS LESBIANS? No. VERDICT: Not to every taste, but a legit masterpiece, clearly superior to both the Murau silent and the agonizing 2024 film.

DRACULA (1979): Romanticied '70s update of the Hamilton Deane/John L. Balderston play that was the basis for the 1931 movie, starring an extremely cunty Frank Langella as Dracula, with such swag that he scarcely needs to hypnotize anyone. Like Herzog's NOSFERATU, released the same year, it transposes Mina (Jan Francis) and Lucy (Kate Nelligan), for no obvious purpose. Nelligan is okay and Langella is fabulous, the diametric opposite of Klaus Kinski in NOSFERATU, but Laurence Olivier (as Van Helsing) and Donald Pleasance (as Seward) are very hammy, and the story is let down somewhat by some unnecessary contrivances and a foolish new ending. CONTAINS LESBIANS? No. VERDICT: Worth seeing for Langella, who really redefined "sexy Dracula" for the modern age, although a mixed bag as a complete film.

SHADOW OF THE VAMPIRE (2000): Unique, deliciously eccentric fictionalized version of the making of the 1922 NOSFERATU: Imperious control-freak director F.W. Murnau (John Malkovich) sets out to film an unauthorized screen version of Bram Stoker's DRACULA with the character names changed, informing his cast and crew that the vampiric Count Orlock will be played by an obscure theatrical Method actor (Willem Dafoe), who insists on remaining in character at all times. Before long, some of the crew start to fear that Murnau may have taken his commitment to authenticity a little too far — and what, exactly, has he promised to pay his star? At once an homage, a parody, and a pastiche of NOSFERATU (it will play better if you've seen at least one of the three versions), anchored by Dafoe's brilliant comedic performance: Much of the suspense hinges on the uncertainty about whether he's an eccentric weirdo, a dangerous monster, or both. The film's main weakness is Cary Elwes as cinematographer Fritz Arno Wagner; Elwes' ludicrous attempt at a German accent is the film's truest horror. CONTAINS LESBIANS? No. VERDICT: A delightfully weird horror-comedy.

I'm a little reluctant to recommend the original 1922 silent (which is in the public domain in the U.S. and easy enough to access) — whatever its bona fides as an early horror film, watching it is very uncomfortable if you recognize that the way the film depicts Orlok is essentially a distillation of a century's worth of ugly antisemitic caricature, so it might as well be BLOOD LIBEL: THE MOTION PICTURE. (DRACULA is itself a rather racist story, but the 1922 NOSFERATU is worse, and the Eggers film is as well.)

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glmfic · 3 months ago

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a love letter & I have BIG news

Hello my lovelies. It is I, the writer of Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money. I have been writing this fic since 2007 (!!!) Eighteen years as of this March!!!

This is something really amazing to me when I reflect on it. I am a perfectionist, which means—as I’ve learned—a procrastinator. To know that I have managed to commit to something so long and dedicatedly…it means soooo much, and truly it is because of love. My love for the cast of characters the incredible Fuyumi Ono has created in Ghost Hunt, and the love of my loyal readers. It’s emotional to feel such a strong love of something, and then get to share in it with such a special group of people—what a gift! Ah, I’m getting choked up…brb…

Okay, this might be coming across kind of sentimental and thus lead you to think I’m about to say this is the end of my writing on Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money—but actually it’s the opposite!! I am here, ahead of my BIG announcement, after a year of not posting, to hard core reaffirm my dedication to GLM. In fact it is because of my BIG announcement that I am even more focused on GLM. So what is this BIG announcement…?

[drum roll]

I am writing a novel!! A bona fide, original, novel. I am a ball of nervous energy announcing this and I wanted to tell you, my dear readers, first. Many of you have been following GLM for years and years and have been my motivation that has resulted in every chapter I’ve ever posted. Your support, your kindness has made such a difference in my life. More than you know. Because of you I’ve kept writing all these years…when I could of just not? I could of just let work take over and never practiced the thing that I am most passionate about: writing. But I have you. And knowing that, I kept going: someone out there wants to read what you’re writing Amber!

Fear & doubt are real things I live with every day (an authorly occupational hazard??), but with every interaction with you my dear readers, those fears and doubts get smaller. I have been working with a wonderful mindset coach since September who has helped me throw into clarity all that I am grateful for and what I want my future to look like. I face a lot of uncertainty, but this I am sure of: I am so thankful for you my dear readers, and I would be honored if you stayed by my side through my new adventures in novel writing.

I am at ground zero when it comes to my novel and I would really love to share my experience every step of the way with you. I have opened a new Tumblr blog to document this journey and I plan for it to be an interactive and fun space to share my writing updates, get your input (very important!), share spoilers and previews, ramble incoherent writing things, ect. If you’d be interested in coming along with me learning step by step what it takes to write a novel from scratch, I’d love to see you there :)

So what does this mean for GLM??

UPDATES.

Because of my novel writing goals, I’ve had to come up with a writing schedule. And this (of course!!) includes GLM. In fact, it’s a necessity. Writing a novel is frankly pretty terrifying. I know I can do it, but I am waaaay out of my comfort zone. But writing GLM? That IS my comfort zone. Writing GLM will be so good for me, it will preserve my sanity. Nothing like a dose of Naru to cheer you up :) But I digress…back to the point: updates! From now going forward through the month of January (and beyond), I will be dedicating Saturdays to writing on GLM. I will post my writing updates here of course and we can scream together as things are really ramping up as we head towards the climax of this case…ahhhh! If I am mathing correctly…you could roughly expect chapter 35 in time for Valentine’s day: I love you here is a new chapter! That’s just 6 Saturdays between you and the next chapter! WOW.

My dear readers, I don’t know if this rambling post conveyed it, but— whether you choose to follow me on my novel journey or not, thank you for being here. Thank you for reading my writing. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll link you to my novel writing Tumblr below, which will have more details about the general premise of my novel soon (think rom-com/kdrama), and I will see you again Saturday for a—gasps—GLM writing update!

Later lovelies! xoxo

Ambernim8 | novel writing blog of yours truly

#you guysssssss #this is so big for me #I'm terrified #but also LIVING #I just love you all so much #I am so excited to get chapter 35 out to you omg #ps: if I see you on my writing blog I just may cry... it's happy tears I promise #chapter 35 #writing update #i <3 my readers

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deadmenandthedivine · 2 years ago

Text

DEAD MEN § the DIVINE

chapter eleven: the tower tapestry

Maetilda Targaryen, First of her Name, was supposed to be many things. What she became was entirely different.

table of contents

trigger warning!!! this fic contains many graphic topics and depictions. such as but not limited to: dead parents, abusive parents, toxic family systems, incest, medieval misogyny, forced marriage, threats of assault (sexual § physical), actual assault, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, blood/gore, uxoricide, familicide, disassociation, thoughts of self harm and annihilation, PTSD and other neurodivergence. i will do my best to update as i go along, but please let me know if i have missed anything!

word count: 8138

“Ao mazverdagon nyke uēmagon. Pendagon iksā jāre naejot sagon se vok byka ābrazȳrys syt bona valītsos? Iksā iā doru-borto, ojūdan, byka aspo. Iksā daor zaldrīzes, yn iksā ñuha tala. Iksā ñuhon.” (You make me fucking sick. Think you're gonna be the perfect little wife for that boy? You’re a stupid, clueless, little bitch. You are no dragon, but you're my daughter. You’re mine.)

His words were so quietly growled she could barely hear them. An endless rant. A barrage of criticism and insults and digs. The grip on her wrist was so tight it caused her heart to beat in her ears. It was a sound she became more and more accustomed to that day. Her fingers felt like they were being stabbed with billions of different little tiny needles. Her father yanked harder as he seemingly decided she was not moving fast enough. She glanced down to find that her hand had turned purple. Only then did she feel the immense pain it caused her. She yelped as she tried to yank her hand away, to allow blood flow to return to it. But he only yanked harder and tightened his grip. Tears welled in her eyes as her face twisted with torment and torture. Her feet tripped over the excessive skirts they drowned in. They clumsily slammed into the steps as the two climbed both up and down various staircases. The princess desperately looked around for her sworn knight, for anyone who may save her. But she and her father were alone in the corridors. Where had Ser Gunthor gone? He had just been with her at dinner. He had just shielded her from being recaptured by the Kingsguard. How could he have disappeared so quickly? How could he leave her alone at such a time?

“Kepa, kostilus! Ñuha ondos.” (Father, please! My fingers.)

“Keligon aōha relgos gō nyke keligon ziry syt ābrar. I will cut them off if I see fit.” (Shut your mouth before I shut it forever.)

As usual, she did as she was told. He dragged her all the way to her chambers without uttering another word. He never once loosened his grip. The door slammed behind him and he locked it. She was locked in there alone with him. He released his grip on her once he had her in the confined space. Trapped and at the mercy of his every whim. He pushed her forward into the room. The princess stumbled before she caught herself. She nursed her right hand as blood began to flow back to it. The pace and distance of their journey left her breathless. Her heart beat wildly as she tried to fill her chest back up with air. Prince Daemon looked at her like a rabid predator as he entered further. She was cornered.

“Do you think yourself to be a smart girl?”

“I-I-I don’t know.” Her nerves blocked the words from escaping her mouth in a succinct manner.

“I-I-I—I don’t know!” He mocked, “You do not fool me.”

She gaped in disbelief, mind racing to understand what his words were supposed to mean, “Fool you? I do not know what you think you see, but—”

“Se mērī run nyke ūndegon skori nyke jurnegon rȳ ao iksis se narysta aspo ao māstan hen.” (The only thing I see when I look at you is the spiteful bitch you came out of.)

He took slow ominous steps forward as he spoke, carefully closing the gap between Maetilda and himself. She opened her mouth to respond, but he slapped her across the face before she could. Quicker than the flick of a frog’s tongue. Her cheek stung similarly to how her hand still did. Undoubtedly reddening as blood drew to the surface just beneath the skin.

“Sepār hae aōha muña, ‘kostagon dōrī vestragon naejot keligon aōha relgos. Iā aōha kris. Pendagon aōla gūrēntan? Pendagon aōla rōva ribazma? Skori kessa ao gūrēñagon. Pranced around with him like a fucking doll. Sat at the table like an empty headed slag waiting for him to come address you. If you had a shred of my mind, you would have told him no.” (Just like your mother, ‘can never seem to close your mouth. Or your legs. Think yourself clever? Think yourself intelligent?)

Her father paced as he began to monologue. The sound of his boots set off alarm bells inside her. He knew just the way to carry himself that would intimidate her the most. He knew she was scared of him. He used it to his advantage. His steps were heavy yet even. No hurry or stomp. They gave away no sign of anger or panic, remaining completely stoic as he continued to pace. Back and forth and back.

“Idiocy plagues your bloodline. ‘Seeps in from every side. ‘Stood no chance with a mother and an uncle like yours. To think I thought my blood would be enough to make you right. Your sisters came from Laena, their stupidity can only be from your uncle. You’re the one who gets it from both sides. I should pity you. I should. Yet you make it so hard. So fucking hard! You act just like her, sound just like her. Sometimes you move just like her.”

The princess swallowed the lump that began to grow in her throat, careful to keep her mouth clamped shut. She wanted to say something. To soothe him, to placate him. But she didn’t want to set him off farther. He was not talking to her, but thinking out loud. As long as he was occupied with his thoughts, she was safe.

“Iksā se doru-borto aspo bona ipradagon hen zȳhon ondos. Bloody fucking King. Iksā ñuha tala, daor zȳhon. Ao rijībagon ñuha udir.” (You are the dumb bitch that eats out of his hand; You are my daughter, not his. You obey my word.)

“Iksan vaoreznuni, kepa.” (I’m sorry, father.)

Her face whipped to the side before the sensation of the second slap actually rippled across her cheek. She furrowed her eyebrows as she wondered why she was suddenly staring over at the tapestry on the wall. It was a few moments until the billions and trillions of needles pricked her cheek, just as they had her hand. Tears welled in her eyes again at the sting.

“Skoros iksin nyke naejot gaomagon lēda ao?” (What am I to do with you?)

Whatever he decided to do, she hoped it would be over soon. Her arms wrapped around herself in a hug. Scared to look back at him, she kept her eyes fixed on the big tapestry on the wall. A floor-to-ceiling tapestry depicting an old tower built atop black stone, a bay with ships in the back. It could not have been the same tapestry that was placed there by her great grandparents or the grandparents that came before them. As she determined before, it looked like Oldtowne, a city she had only flown over only once before. She knew she would not last long around the Hightowers, but even they were the more favorable choice when her father was angry. Regardless of what tower it happened to be, who the tower belonged to, she wished she could crawl into it and hide. She hoped it would be somewhere her father would never find her. Somewhere his wrath could never reach.

“Ziry pendagon ēza ērinagon. Pōnta mirre gaomagon. Ziry se mirre lī kasta orvorta. Pendagon kostis dīnagon ao hen sepār hae pōnta gōntan nyke.” (He thinks he has won. They all do. He and all those green twats. Think they can marry you off just as they did me.)

All she could think to do was nod, afraid that opening her mouth again would result in a third slap. She did not want to risk the bruise. It would be her reputation to come into question from such a mark, not his. Yet as she kept her mouth shut, her mind remained fixated on her father’s next moves. He would not allow Aemond to have her. But how? What was he planning? An elaborate scheme or a quick shove from a high cliff. Her eyes briefly darted toward her balcony, as if to make sure it still remained where it had. Her heart began to pound as she pictured her father pushing her over the railings. That would be the easiest way to keep his ducks in a row — to get rid of her entirely. It wouldn’t be the first time she thought he may do so. Whispers that he had been responsible for her own mother’s death were never far from her ears. Perhaps they were true. Perhaps she was next.

“Nothing will be fixed, you know?” His smile was sadistic.

“Yes, I know.” She nodded in agreement.

“And yet, you already let the Queen’s favorite son parade you around like some conquered relic.” Another slap sent her twisting over again, “Nyke gōntan daor manaeragon bona!” (I did not raise that!)

The sting in her cheek only sharpened as the skin grew more sensitive. She felt uncomfortably hot. The last thing she wanted to do was betray her family. From the moment they had arrived, she had been trying to do the opposite. The princess did not feel like herself. Not in the slightest. She felt weak and confused and tested. Like whatever move she made would set off a chain reaction. Regardless, Maetilda was going to do everything in her power to not let it show. She was a Targaryen. She was not afraid of anything. Except another Targaryen.

“I will do better, kepa.” She did her best to disguise the sound of tears in her voice.

“Of course you will.” He seethed, “Do you remember what I told you before dinner? I almost did away with you once. I can still do it, I can do whatever I want with you. Swear to me you’ll do better.”

“I swear.” She assured him, tears pouring down her cheeks.

There was a pause before his words chilled her to the bone, “Swear on your maidenhead.”

“Pardon?”

“Swear that you will not betray me. Swear that if you fail, each and every one of my men will each get a turn to disgrace you for the rest of your life…”

“I—What?”

“Don’t question me, swear to me.”

“I… I… ssswear.”

“Swear what?”

“I swear… to do better… to not betray you… or our family.”

Prince Daemon looked at her expectantly, hinting to the princess that she was not done. That there were words she had left unsaid. The pain of knowing exactly what his look was hinting at hammered inside her head. He wanted her to say it out loud. He wanted to hear her say the words herself. With a forceful hand, he pushed her onto her knees. He tilted her chin up at him, petting at it in order to coax her next words out.

Tears welled up even more in her eyes, pouring down her cheeks like a mile wide river. “I swear… on my maidenhead.”

He smiled as soon as she said the word. The sound of her swallowing any sense of pride or dignity seemingly more pleasing to him than any compliment. His hand came down to cup her face as his eyes glanced across her kneeling body, an emphasis to the filthiness she already felt. Her stomach flipped as the words she had just sworn had fully processed through her mind.

“Good girl,” Her father lovingly patted the cheek that he had been assaulting, “You know, it is not a bad idea on its own. The more I ponder it, the more it makes sense. If my men took your little flower, all of my problems would be solved by sunrise.”

Maetilda shook her head in horror, tears dropping down her cheeks. Her skin crawled. Daemon’s threats were never empty. If he liked the idea too much, there would be nothing to stop him. Her knights were not enough to take on him and his men — not without a miracle sent by the Gods. Of which, she didn’t quite believe in. The cold rough hand that patted her cheek dropped down to her shoulder. She closed her eyes as the grip tightened. His thumb slowly inched toward her throat, tracing the line of her jugular.

“Mm. But—“

A light tnk, tnk, tnk on the other side of the door made her jump.

“Princess, did you mean to lock the door? It is Noarysa and Adelyn. We were told dinner was over. Please let us in, you must not sleep on your hair.”

“One moment!” Her father responded.

His grip remained for a moment longer, only tightening the more it stayed. With one final squeeze, he let go of her shoulder, but he did not release her completely. His hand moved down to the small of her back, forcefully guiding her back up to her feet and over to the vanity chair. From where she sat, she could see the reflection of the tower tapestry looming over their shoulders. She refused to meet her father’s eyes.

“I shall see you tomorrow. There will be a meeting in the Small Council chambers to discuss the nuptials that will not be happening.”

She nodded again. Much to her relief, he seemed satisfied by her response; he did not linger. Rather, in a way to mock her and the blood pounding through her veins, Prince Daemon idly walked toward the door. Coming to a full stop before he unlocked it. He paused before actually opening the iron latch mechanism. He opened it causally, putting on a show comparable to any street actor. As if he hadn’t just slapped and threatened his daughter inside, the prince nodded to the handmaids who also avoided his gaze. Once in the corridor, his pace picked up significantly while he sauntered away. The two handmaids scurried in immediately, waiting only for the Rogue Prince to be out of the way before rushing over to their princess. Maetilda sat in the wooden chair and stared at her reflection in the looking glass. Her left cheek was light purple and bright red. Her right one was flush pink. Her right hand still hadn’t returned to its normal color either. Her once intricate updo had shifted and fallen from where it had sat at the start of dinner. As soon as the princess had noticed the presence of the other two women, her gaze fell to her lap. She hoped they would not say anything to anyone, but she knew word of what her face looked like would be worth a life changing amount of money. She could not fault them.

“Good evening, Princess. Why don’t we get you into your nightgown before we take out your hair?” Noarysa’s voice was soft and gentle, like a mother’s coo to her tired baby.

The princess could still remember Noarysa’s snippets about her family, about her children. She was a dedicated mother, it made sense that Maetilda felt so comforted. The silver honey haired girl wanted nothing more than to be held, cradled, and rocked. To feel the way she did whenever Lady Laena would tuck her into bed and tell her a bedtime story. It had been so many years since the last time the Velaryon had laughed with her or wiped her tears. She longed for her late step mother’s presence every day, yet she felt guilty when she longed for Laena and not her mother. She missed her mother first. The tent of a dress was soon untied and stripped from her body. It was not until she felt the cold of the room that she noticed she was no longer sitting. She did not remember standing up or stepping away from the vanity. Regardless, Adelyn helped her into her nightgown while Noarysa scurried over to the fireplace. The older maid hummed an unfamiliar tune as she added another log and put on a cauldron of coals to begin warming for later. Maetilda stared forward but looked at nothing. Her entire being felt rigid and still. Her mind became overwhelmed with billions and trillions of thoughts at once. Tears wells in her eyes once more, but she blinked them away. Both Noarysa and Adelyn assisted the princess back into the vanity chair. Together, they worked to take down the silver honey nest on her head. In all of the action at dinner, it had tangled painfully at the crown of her head and nape of her neck. The maids took gentle care to unknot each strand, oiling the tresses when needed. Noarysa continued her unfamiliar tune. It had a happy melody, but the key was virtually unheard of to the princess’s ear. The notes in the tune flattened and sharpened at surprisingly mesmerizing places. Before long, the princess found herself leaning into the maids’ touch. The collective buzz from the night bugs far down below could be heard chorusing in the gardens, serving as Noarysa’s musical accompaniment. It would have been enough to put the princess to sleep had she not already felt wide awake. As if the Gods themselves were holding her eyes open.

Had Noarysa continued her song, Maetilda would have sat contently in her vanity chair for the entire evening. Adelyn used her skilled hands to massage the princess’s scalp as the number of braids dwindled. They had not known her long, but they had treated her with such gentle care. It felt wrong. As much as she wanted to revel in the moment, soak it in and relax, her senses all remained on high alert. She could not ignore the part of her that feared her father would barge back in at any moment. Having had a chance to stew over their exchange and turn back around. She could still remember the day her father had returned to her chambers three separate times to continue the same argument. She had been five and ten at the time, a few moons after she had her first bleed. They were at Dragonstone during the actual dispute, but the inciting incident had taken place in Driftmark that morning. Lord Corlys had allowed Daemon to take her and the twins flying. When storm clouds began to brew, they had all landed and retreated back into the castle only to find that Lord Manderly and his eldest son Warren had arrived unexpectedly. They docked to avoid the brewing storm and came to treat with the Lord of Driftmark. As the men went about their business in the morning thunder, the princess and her sisters took Warren on a tour of the castle. When the four had returned to the Great Hall, where the men had conducted their business over goblets of wine, the Manderly boy had the princess on his arm and hanging off of his every word. He had tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand before turning to her father. It was clear to everyone in the room that the Manderly was about to ask the Rogue Prince for his blessing to court his eldest daughter. But just as the boy had opened his mouth to speak, the Targaryen prince had shoved the boy back and yanked the princess from the hall. He had flown them home immediately in a rage. Through the downpour and all. Although Shrykos was older and larger than Ceraxes, the younger dragon was faster, more agile, and had a far more skilled rider. She knew there would be no sense in trying to escape him. When they had arrived back at Dragonstone, her father had dragged her all the way back to her chambers by her ear. His grip had been much gentler at the time. They argued for the rest of the day. Her father left only to go eat his dinner, after which he returned to continue. He tried to leave the argument twice more before he was actually successful in staying away. He was a stubborn man who would not accept a truce, not even with his own daughter. Especially with his own daughter. When the maids finished with her hair, they made ready the bed. The hot coals on the fire were dumped into the iron and ceramic bed warmer, which was then tucked underneath the bed frame. Adelyn blew out the different candles across the room. The atmosphere was comfortable and inviting, yet the princess sat on edge. Despite their best efforts, the maids could not distract the princess from the evening she had.

“Thank you, Noarysa, Adelyn. Thank you.”

“It is our pleasure, Princess.” Noarysa responded softly.

“Certainly.” Adelyn nodded in agreement.

“You both may go. Have a good night.” Maetilda tried her best to smile at them.

“Respectfully, Princess. Do you want help getting into bed?” Adelyn asked.

Maetilda’s smile grew genuine, “I will manage.”

“Good night, Princess.” Noarysa curtsied before she exited, Adelyn soon parroted her.

The door latched closed behind them, after which Maetilda rushed forward to lock it. Hoping the lock would be enough to keep her father away for the rest of the evening. Her mind replayed every last glimpse of him she could remember from dinner as she paced about her chambers. He had seemed so jovial, even smiling and laughing along with Rhaenyra and his brother. While she had not acted in the most ladylike manner by getting into the boys’ tussle, he had never once voiced an issue with that. He was angry that she was to be married, that she had agreed to dance with Aemond. Perhaps he was angry that she did not do more to denounce the one eyed prince. Her stomach churned with the unknown. She felt hot, clammy, nauseous from it all. Yet her pacing only continued. Her vision darkened at the edges a bit as the feeling of doom loomed over shoulder. She felt as if she were already too late, her oncoming fate already sealed. The room soon grew stuffy. Her lungs struggled to intake a full breath. Her hands shakily clawed at the neckline of her nightgown. Her eyes ripped through the chambers, desperate for relief. She spotted the balcony door first, and barreled through it, steps labored and unbalanced. The entirety of her body felt heavy, down to every limb. The cogs inside her brain felt rusted. She took a seat on the wooden bench and stared out at Blackwater Bay. The gentle waves reflected the twinkle of the waxing gibbous moon. It was so dark that she could not tell where the sea grew deeper, where the water gradually darkened in color. It made her mind picture sea monsters and krakens lurking just below the surface, camouflaged in the black of the night. She imagined their tentacles entrapping her before pulling her to the bottom with them. Ripping her body to shreds with razor sharp teeth. It would not be a pretty end or a graceful death fit for a princess. It would be just like her mother’s, occurring in nature and shrouded in mystery. An ending that she found far more fitting. She would have much preferred the ocean’s unknown to her father’s return.

A choked cry escaped her throat despite how hard she tried to hold all tears back. The cry soon became a desperate whimper that quickly turned into a single sob. Her thoughts scared her, sent chills through her bones. Never before had she wished for death so often, so repeatedly, and in so many different ways. It felt like the world was caving in on her, like she was on a sinking ship. It felt like her days were already numbered. Yet a big part of her was too afraid to find out what waited for her in the afterlife. Deep down, she knew it would not be as simple and wonderful as her mother. Life was never that good, so how could the afterlife be? Maetilda physically shook her head to try to dispel the thoughts, wiping the wet tears from her cheeks. She felt so silly, so ashamed. There were other ladies who had it worse than she. There were ladies who were wed before their first blood, were beaten until they bruised, were belittled to the rest of Court by their own spouses. Ever since she had been little, she had told herself that such a life would never be hers. How naive of her to think herself any different from any other lady, to think herself worthy of any other fate. Perhaps gnashing teeth and murky waters would be exactly what she deserved. Perhaps the Gods were teaching her a lesson, just as her Septa would say. Perhaps she was destined for the cruelest of fates. A life of shame and misery and solitude. She could already feel the cold of it all, settling inside so that she would never truly be warm again. Without a doubt, she knew her father would never be satisfied. Not until she was no longer betrothed. Not until there was no other prince or lord to threaten his claim over her keep. Would that be the rest of her future, her life? A constant battle for the chance to be sold off until there are no buyers left standing. A never ending auction with no final bid in sight. If her knights and all the castle’s guards would not immediately come running, she would have thrown her head back and screamed. Her lungs craved the scratchy release. Only on the back of Vhagar would Lady Laena let the young princess scream at the top of her lungs. Vhagar would roar back in a pitch that matched, and they would soar until Laena decided it was time to eat. What she would do to feel such freedom and wonder again. Back then, she had never been scared to let go. She had never feared losing grip and falling. She just knew she never would. When she had eventually mounted Shrykos, she was just a few years older. Yet old enough to know that falling meant death, old enough to know that falling was amongst the worst ways to die. To idly await the collision that ended it all.

“Princess?” The voice startled her entire body into restarting before her head whipped around to find her betrothed.

Her heart stopped at the sight of him, in the last place he should have been. He would ruin any and all of her father’s plans. In fact, Aemond’s own plans could not be any more innocent. He stood in the doorway of the balcony with his hands up in feigned surrender, still dressed in the same clothes from dinner. He was tall enough that he took up a majority of the frame. His figure loomed. Her mouth went dry.

“How did y— What are you doing? How long have you been hiding in my chambers? Get out!” Maetilda gasped as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hide it.

“Pardon my intrusion, ñuha dōna.” He replied almost solemnly. (my sweet)

“How did you get in here? Passed my knights? Passed the lock?”

“Keep your voice down, and I will tell you.”

“My voice is down. Tell me.”

“You must know of the passages between the walls. Maegor had them built.”

“I know he murdered the men who built them to keep their whereabouts hidden. You know where they are?”

“I have lived my whole life amongst these walls. Plenty of time to search.”

“And what has brought you through them and to my chambers? You risk my good name. Leave. Go!”

“Maetilda, please. I heard everything.” He stated, “Every word your father spoke. I—I had to make certain you were alright.”

“Allow me to make certain I heard you correctly. Since dinner, you have been hiding in my walls and listening to my private conversations?”

He sucked a breath in, forcing his back to straighten. After a pause, he nodded, “I had not intended to eavesdrop. I only wished to sit near your presence for a moment after everything that took place at dinner. I was never going to come in… But your father is loud. And potentially treasonous.”

Her limbs moved of their own accord. She launched out of the bench like a projectile from a catapult. Before either of the two could blink, the princess had already slapped and shoved her betrothed at least twice. An angry cry left her mouth this time. Each of the many emotions she had felt on the balcony that evening spilled out of her all at once. With all of her might, she tried over and over to knock the prince off of his feet. But much like at dinner, he did not even flinch. The only sign of discomfort he showed was his shift in stance and the crease of his brow. The latter of which disappeared as quickly as it came, allowing his face to return to its stoic thinking position. His lack of reaction only angered her more, she threw fisted swings at his chest. His lips thinned into a line, but he remained unmoving. With another frustrated cry, the princess pushed and hit him harder. Thunk, umpf, thunk, thunk, umpf, smack. Their struggle almost made more noise than their conversation had. After a few more harsh slaps to the chest, the prince finally reacted. As she continued her attempts at hurting him, Aemond reached up and snatched his betrothed’s hands out of the air. Careful to avoid her still red wrists, his palms encompassed her fists in his grip. His hands clamped over her own like a glove that was far too tight. At least for the moment, she was lassoed and subdued. Maetilda tried to tug herself free to no avail. It was on her third tug that the dams broke. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks before she had the chance to blink them away. Her mouth turned down into a helpless frown. This time, her cry was a sharp throaty sob. One that caused her knees to buckle and her shoulders to shake. Wordlessly, Aemond kept her steady. His hands released hers only to reach up and wipe her under eyes dry. He voiced no complaints or made any face of displeasure; his presence was nearly calming. He held her cheeks and petted her hair. Yet she wanted him gone. Needed him gone.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She croaked.

“It will not matter soon. Whispers will only hurry our nuptials along if we are found out.”

“You seem pleased.”

“I am.” A silence hung around them before he spoke again, “Although, I sense you are not.”

“Perhaps I would be happier had you not invited yourself into my bedroom in the middle of the night.”

“And what a pleasant night the Gods have given us. Next time, I swear to you I shall knock. I only wish to talk for a moment. May we sit, Princess?”

“No, you may not.”

“Very well.”

Quiet consumed them once more. Maetilda crossed her arms in front of her chest. The nightgown she was dressed in was not at all decent. As Aemond remained standing as instructed, the princess found herself unable to sit. Her legs felt like they were on fire, her whole body did. Like bolts of lighting were shooting through her veins. The prince kept his lilac eye locked on her frame like a target, although this time they seemed glazed over. Seemingly buried deep in his mind, the princess watched him shift his weight from one foot to the other as he both looked at her and beyond her at the same time. Her mind screamed for her to shout for her knight beyond the door, to do as her father would wish. But in that moment, she felt as if her mouth was sewn shut. She was completely transfixed. The prince’s weight shifted again as his mouth opened to speak. Her own breath hitched in anticipation.

“I hope you know I meant what I said when I told you that I was going to make it up to you.”

“What?”

“For the disrespect I showed you by not greeting you and your family when you arrived. I am going to right what I have done wrong.”

“Those are pretty words, Prince Aemond, but you did the opposite of that at dinner.”

“I was provoked.”

“Provoked? No one said a word against you.”

“‘Didn’t need to.”

“So you were goaded into treason without so much as being insulted yourself? Sounds to me that you were looking for a reason to be nasty.”

“You are not being fair.”

“How so?”

“I was provoked!”

“By what? By the laughter of a boy two years your junior?”

“Yes, I was. The same one to take this.” Aemond huffed as he defiantly ripped his eyepatch off.

The princess gasped at the surprise of his uncovered face. He stood like a fuming little boy awaiting retaliation. His chest rose and fell with his rapid breaths, smoke practically poured out of his nose. His eyes’ expression held a thousand different emotions. Anger, sadness, shame, embarrassment, vengeance, guilt, despair. She felt her own heart rip to shreds with guilt. How callous had she been? Had she not considered what it would feel to be physically maimed by one’s own kin all while being cast aside a majority of one’s life? Would she not lash out given the same circumstances? She felt like a hypocrite, overly critical and judgmental. He had stolen Vhagar, he had threatened to bash Jacaerys’s head in with a rock, that’s why he had lost his eye. Lucerys was merely acting like the boy he still was. And she knew better than anybody that speaking so boldly in front of her father was more times than not a mistake. She let her eyes close and took a deep breath before she answered him.

“His actions cut deep, I understand. There are years of malice between you, but he only wins when you allow him to pull such a reaction from you.”

“He wins when he thinks he can get away with behaving like a child.”

“You are no better when you behave like a child yourself.”

He snarled at her words like an animal. It was belittling to be called a child, and he seemed to be particularly sensitive to name calling. The torment that he could not seem to escape. She watched his face twist, his nose wrinkle, and his mouth curl downwards in disgust. He huffed and puffed like a dragon with a temper. The princess simply stared back at him, insinuating her lack of fear. Aemond blew air through his nose with enough force to cause a breeze. He spun around and moved away from her in order to take his aggression out on the small potted saffron plant that he proceeded to catapult off of the balcony.

“I shall make up for my disrespect to you, ñuha dōna, but I will not allow your family to disrespect me.”

It was a sentiment that made the princess freeze in her place and briefly contemplate everything she once thought. He had a point. He deserved to defend himself against disrespect. All those years, he had been more than disrespected. He had been maimed and bullied and excluded. Could she have been the one in the wrong? Was she the one out of line? Certainly not, her gut would not lie.

“That includes your father.” He added.

“I cannot control what my father does.”

Aemond reached forward and ran a timid hand through her hair, “When I am your husband, it will be my job to put him in his place.”

Maetilda tried horribly to hold back her breathy, incredulous chuckle. His words felt weird as they drifted through her ears. She shook her head free of Aemond’s hand and huffed. It felt like she was a play toy being fought over. Her skin crawled as the feeling grew louder in her mind.

“If my father lets the marriage happen.”

Aemond’s face twisted with anger once more. His jaw clenched and fixed forward, “The King has already ordered it. He and his men will be executed for treason well before any of them can touch you. I will see to it.”

His steps toward her were so careful that they were nearly silent, but they were no less deliberate. The look on his face sent chills down her spine, internally screaming of the danger she was in. She had played too close to fire, and was about to be burnt. She should have listened to her father, and not entertained the prince’s words in the Godswood, not gotten up to dance with him. Her father was right. She did think herself to be clever. What had those thoughts gained her? More questions and uncertainty than ever, her peace and safety threatened. What was she after? What did she want? In that moment, she wanted to stand her ground, remain brave in the face of whatever Aemond was. She wanted to prove her dragon blood, she wanted her father to be wrong. Yet the prince before her also made her question that. He loomed over her, nearly resembling the figure in the black cloak. Every single hair on the princess’s body stood on edge. It could not have been him. The figure was a ghost, a spirit, an apparition; it had no face or hands.

“If I were to take you this evening, there would be no argument left by sunrise.”

“You sound just like him.”

“You insult me.” He chuckled, both knowing full well that he had quoted the man.

“No, you insult me.” Maetilda crossed her arms in front of her chest once more, “No one gets to have me. Not without first swearing vows to me in the sight of Gods and men.”

“Then I shall have the honors after all.” She smacked his chest once more as he smugly finished his sentence.

“And now you sound like your brother.”

“Take that back.”

“Then quit talking about that which resides between my legs as if it is some castle you wish to conquer. To think I suspected you were different.”

“Dōna dārilaros,” (Sweet princess) He breathed her in like a flower, reaching his hand up again to play with small strands of her hair before letting his hand drop downward. The breath hitched in the princess’s throat as his hand gently cupped her waist. His fingers lightly toyed with the soft silk of her nightgown. Carefully, his hand snaked into a tighter grip around her back that pulled her body closer into him. Unsure of what to do, the princess simply froze in overwhelming fear. She watched him with an empty stare, “No one sees you the way that I do. You shall be the perfect wife, divinely chosen. The perfect mother to my heirs. Steadfast, ferocious, intelligent. You are no castle. You are a dragon. An elusive one, just as the mount you claimed.”

That sounded more like Aemond, “What do you want from me?”

“A love as strong as Aegon the First and his precious Rhaenys.”

“Queen Rhaenys died fighting her husband’s battles.”

“A mistake I shall never make with you.”

“That’s quite the promise. And just how do you expect me to trust you?”

“I suppose I shall earn your trust with time.”

“Hmm,” She mimicked him. His gaze was intense and she could hold it no longer. Her eyes dropped down to the detailing on the collar of his shirt. Seven pointed stars embroidered in sneaky places. She gasped when the thought occurred to her, “Most men do not love the ladies they marry, but those they bed. You speak pretty words, but... I don’t—”

“We are more similar than you think, ñuha dōna.”

To punctuate his words, he descended upon her as quickly as she had launched herself at him earlier. His hands cupped her cheeks, running his thumbs across her cheek bones. His lips slowly massaged her own. His pink pout pressed into hers with passion, chasing her favor. The feeling was completely foreign, a wet mouth colliding with hers. There were muscles in his lips that she did not expect to feel, but they worked and toyed at her own mouth in such a way that felt oddly satisfying. Her heart fluttered and her skin tingled, but her body remained stiff and rigid. Unsure of what to do, terrified to do the wrong thing. But her lack of reaction did not stop him, his lips continued their dance as he pressed pressure against her through them. Her eyes remained cracked open, able to see the firelight in her chambers just beyond his shoulder. She could feel his movements spreading odd sensations throughout her body, she did not know how to describe them. They felt ticklish and almost slimy. Regardless, her heart fluttered and her cheeks filled with heat. Before she could rip her lips away from him, the Prince ceased his tirade in order to catch his breath. He pressed their foreheads together as his eye studied the minor details of her face. He had kissed her, and all she felt inside was conflict. A soft smile spread across his shiny, wet lips. Undoubtedly proud of himself. But it gave her the same feeling her father’s crocodile smile in the throne room had. Dread. One of his hands gently stroked at her darker pink cheek.

“Se Jaes vēttan nyke syt ao,” He whispered. (The Gods made me for you.)

“Se Jaes emagon dōrī gaomagon nyke mirre sȳz,” She muttered back. (The Gods have never done me any good.)

His pout moved to kiss her forehead that time. Wrapping his other arm around her and into a tight hug. His arms held her securely in place. She could not move even if she had wanted. Her father’s crocodile smile would not leave her mind as they stood. It was plastered all over her brain and onto the backs of her eyelids. The sound of Vaemond’s body splatting onto the ground echoed in her ears. It had only been the day before. She could still be next. Her body remained rigid. Tense with terror and fear that she desperately wanted to keep hidden. What would her father think? Would Aemond keep their actions to himself? Would she survive the fortnight? A big part of her doubted it. Not with her father and her betrothed under the same roof. She was shocked into taking another breath, unaware that she had been holding it, as cold fingers danced down her spine. The soothing chill could be felt even through her silk nightgown. The smooth, light scratch of his fingernails was enough alone to soothe her to sleep. Had she not been standing or utterly on edge.

“Of course they have, they made you a princess.”

“The King did that with a stroke of his quill, not any god.”

“This is true. But the Gods put the tenderness in his heart. They smile down upon us.”

“The Fourteen or the Seven?” She quizzed him, as if his belief in one or the other would reveal his true allegiance. She already knew.

“All one and twenty.”

“You keep both?”

“There is much for us to learn about each other. What gods do you pray to?”

“The ones that answer.”

“Hmm.”

Aemond loosened his grip, allowing Maetilda to pull away and look at him. Before she could get a good glimpse, he was planting small kisses all over her face. Her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, the corners of her mouth. It felt like bugs crawling over her skin. As she squirmed away, she could feel the pull of her hair in his fist. It reminded her of the consequences that loomed over them.

“This is wrong. You should not be here. You should not have kissed me. You need to leave. We must pretend this never happened.” The princess fought against his firm, unwavering hold.

“Shhh, Gaomagon daor sȳngagon aōla. Mazeminna dohaeragon lēda mirre ra. Mazeminna marizzo toliot ao.” (Do not worry yourself. I will take care of everything. I will take care of you.)

She felt powerless as his hands grabbed her arms and turned the two of them. Positioning them so that the princess was pinned between him and the worn terra-cotta colored castle wall. Unable to run away yet again. As soon as she realized what was happening, it was already too late. He pressed his body harder against her as she squirmed.

“Please st—“

Before she could finish her words, the prince had parted her legs with his knee. Pushing his leg farther in between to divide them, only aided by the nightgown that trapped her lower limbs from kicking. She tried to push back against his arms and torso, only to be electrocuted by the brush of the prince’s thigh against her maidenhead. Tears welled in her eyes as she wondered if he had taken it, claimed it as his own. Just like that. But she knew that would have been too easy. Ladies’ matters were never that easy. Aemond dropped his head down to her neck. His breath tickled her skin as he inhaled against her. Breathing her in.

“You smell so pretty, ñuha dōna. Please. Allow me to—”

“Please, stop! Stop. I am a princess of virtue, and I wish to remain so.”

The prince’s face morphed into a more displeased expression as he pulled away from where he hovered over her collarbones. The warmth of him was enough to make her question her resolve. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to say it. His mouth hung open slightly as his lips formed the beginnings of different words.

“Swear that you will tell me if your father makes any more of his threats.”

“I will not make two conflicting vows in one evening.”

The prince huffed through his nose, but the princess in his arms only dug her heels in and continued, “You said yourself that you heard every word he spoke. I have already committed enough punishable offenses.”

He did not answer. Only took another deep breath of the air against her neck before shoving her away from him in favor of storming off into her chambers. She was completely taken aback at first, unsure of what to do. He paced back and forth, and back and forth and back and forth, in front of her fireplace. Twisting his hands and fingers into knots as if he wanted to hurt himself. Her instincts took over as she followed after him back inside. Had her answer truly been that detrimental? What did he know that she did not? Wearily, she reached out to rub his shoulder. Wanting nothing more to see the prince calm once more.

“How would I tell you of my father’s plans without his knowledge?”

“Helaena.” He nodded as he agreed with his own answer more and more. “Tell Helaena, and she will tell me.”

Tears welled in the princess’s eyes again as she shook her head, she felt as if she were already trapped. “Aemond, I can’t—“

Tnk, tnk, tnk, tnk. The second knock to interrupt her evening. The prince furrowed his eyebrows before he sprinted over to the floor to ceiling tapestry of the tower. He stood in front of it, just as her father had not long ago. Aemond was taller than him. He looked less small next to the tower, but not by much. Maetilda panicked as she ran to her wardrobe for her housecoat. By the time she turned back around, her betrothed was gone. Disappeared while her back was turned to him. She found herself searching for him, checking behind her bookshelves, the tapestry, and under the rug for some sort of trap door. But there was not even a trace. No handle, no door hinge. Yet he had made it both in and out of her chambers somehow. Was he still listening? Just as he had listened to her and her father. Could he see her? Would he return? She wanted to bolt the door behind him, but she didn’t know where it was.

“Mi’lady, it’s your knight. I have what you asked for.”

His whisper was just quiet enough for her to hear. She opened the door to reveal Ser Eddrin and a rucksack. When she let him into her room, he rushed over to the sitting table. His armor creaked as usual, giving away his presence. Clearing the surface with one arm, he unceremoniously dumped the rucksack out into the empty space. A very old book, a black candle, red pepper, several empty vials, and salt.

A/N: Maetilda has finally been betrothed, but Daemon is not going to go down without a fight. The current escape route is one that will bring her father’s wrath, the other option is possible eternal loneliness under her father’s thumb. She won’t be able to escape him either way. It looks like even Aemond will not come to her rescue either. But Eddrin and Gunthor always pull through!! <3

I am so sorry for being MIA. I had someone who I thought was a friend steal a very big amount of money from me, and have been dealing with a lot of stress. Updates are still coming. I am currently writing chapter thirteen and plan on releasing twelve and thirteen together. If anyone knows any good ways to make side cash without exhausting yourself, please let me know lol 😅

TAGLIST: @snh96 @marvelescvpe

xoxo messy

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