#born to be a courtier

[little-bit-obsessed]

Caspian being jealous 😂😂 dismissing Peter’s other "friend" from their company

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Changli (Wuthering Waves)

[cruelprincae]

when cardan says he is unlovable and that he hasn't made himself easy to love, it isn't this cardan that talks. it's this.

[kinglua]

if I see one more person with mustaches and long curly hair I'm going to die my stupid little heart can't take it they all look so good

[rabbitgardens]

HOPPIN IN LATE WITH MY BLORBOS BINGI

my sylvari co-commanders, revyl (it/any mesmer) and irene (he/she guardian)!

Revyl awoke with unusually high magical potential, and no memory of its dream. Both of those things made life in the grove isolating, and one day it was stolen from the safety of Astorea into the ranks of the nightmare court. It was one of the court's best kept secrets and deadliest weapons, and they used it's powerful chaos magic and illusions to spread havoc throughout Caledon. They were far from its idyllic family though, Revyl faced far more disrespect and abuse in the twisted hierarchy of the Court than it ever did in the safety of the Grove. Revyl found solace in one person, however, a fellow duskbloom named Zaara, who proposed the idea of leaving the Court behind. The day before Revyl was to be given the title Knight of Shadows for their dedication to spreading nightmare, it followed Zaara to freedom, out of Caledon, to start its life anew. Zaara took Revyl under her wing, teaching it to close itself off from the Dream, and continuing to hone its skills in combat. For a year they traveled together, until Zaara revealed herself to be a Whispers Lightbringer, and extended an invitation to her Order to Revyl. It accepted, wanting the opportunity to see the world, meet new people, and uncover the mystery of its lost dream.

Irene (was created in game like two days ago ignore how bad her armor looks) woke right when the sun was highest, with a profound sense of duty to her mother and the Dream and a fierce need to live up to the tenets of the Tablet. He apprenticed under the Luminary of Noon to become a warden, and was chosen by the Tree herself to be her herald and take back Caladbolg. It's through this mission he meets Revyl, and the two would remain friends, exchanging letters and meeting occasionally to tell each other about their lives in their Orders, right up until Claw Island, where after the risen attack they're named co-commanders, and have the weight of the world thrust on their shoulders.

Irene is more than up to the task! Revyl dreads the idea like nothing it's ever felt before.

You think your gw2 OCs dont get enough love? this is info dump post where you reblog with character you want to show off! When I'm not big in anyway, I just want to show more love for all gw2 tumblr folks <333 MAAAYBBEEEE if I have time Ill draw some of characters sent here >:3

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Mini Guide to Crafting Compelling Royal Characters for Fiction Writers

Creating royal characters can be both exciting and challenging. These regal figures often play pivotal roles in stories, capturing readers' imaginations with their power, privilege, and the weight of responsibility they carry. Whether you're writing historical fiction, fantasy, or contemporary novels featuring monarchs, this comprehensive (mini) guide will help you develop authentic, multi-dimensional royal characters that will resonate with your readers.

Understanding the Basics of Royalty

Before diving into character creation, it's essential to have a solid grasp of what royalty entails. Royalty typically refers to members of a ruling family, including kings, queens, princes, princesses, and other nobles within a monarchical system. These individuals are often born into their roles, though some may ascend to power through marriage or other means.

Key aspects to consider:

Hierarchy and succession

Royal duties and responsibilities

Protocol and etiquette

The concept of divine right (in some cultures)

The relationship between royalty and their subjects

Remember, while these elements are common in many royal systems, you have the creative freedom to adapt or reimagine them for your fictional world.

Developing Your Royal Character's Background

Every character, royal or not, needs a rich backstory. For royal characters, this background is particularly crucial as it shapes their worldview, values, and decision-making processes.

Consider the following:

a) Lineage: What is your character's family history? Are they from a long-standing dynasty or a newly established royal house?

b) Upbringing: How were they raised? Were they groomed for leadership from birth, or did they have a more sheltered upbringing?

c) Education: What kind of education did they receive? Was it formal, focusing on statecraft and diplomacy, or more well-rounded?

d) Relationships: How do they relate to their family members, courtiers, and subjects?

e) Personal experiences: What significant events have shaped their character and outlook on life?

Crafting a Unique Personality

Avoid the trap of creating one-dimensional royal stereotypes. Your character should be as complex and nuanced as any other well-developed protagonist or antagonist.

Consider these aspects:

a) Strengths and weaknesses: What are your character's admirable qualities? What flaws do they struggle with?

b) Motivations: What drives them? Is it a sense of duty, personal ambition, or something else entirely?

c) Internal conflicts: What personal struggles do they face? How do these conflicts affect their rule and relationships?

d) Hobbies and interests: What passions do they pursue outside of their royal duties?

e) Sense of humor: How do they express humor, if at all? Is it dry wit, sarcasm, or something else?

Balancing Power and Vulnerability

One of the most intriguing aspects of royal characters is the juxtaposition between their immense power and their human vulnerabilities. This balance can create compelling internal and external conflicts for your character.

Consider:

The weight of responsibility and its impact on their personal life

The isolation that often comes with a royal position

The constant scrutiny they face from the public and court

The struggle between personal desires and duty to the crown

Creating a Believable Royal World

Your royal character doesn't exist in a vacuum (I hope not). They're part of a larger royal ecosystem that includes family members, advisors, courtiers, and subjects. Developing this world adds depth and authenticity to your story.

Key elements to consider:

Court dynamics and politics

Relationships with other noble houses or kingdoms

The role of advisors and how they influence decisions

Traditions and customs specific to your royal setting

The economic and social structure of the kingdom

Addressing the Challenges of Royal Life

Royal characters face unique challenges that can drive your plot and character development. Some common themes include:

a) Succession disputes b) Balancing personal happiness with duty c) Navigating political alliances and conflicts d) Managing public opinion and maintaining legitimacy e) Dealing with threats to their rule or life

Use these challenges to create tension and drive your story forward while revealing more about your character's personality and values.

The Impact of Historical Context

If you're writing historical fiction or a fantasy inspired by real-world monarchies, it's crucial to consider the historical context. Research the time period and culture you're drawing from to ensure authenticity in your character's behavior, beliefs, and challenges.

Key areas to research:

Social norms and expectations of the time

Political systems and power structures

Technology and its impact on governance

Religious beliefs and their influence on royalty

Gender roles and how they affect royal duties and succession

Avoiding Common Pitfalls

When creating royal characters, be mindful of these common mistakes:

a) Making them too perfect or too villainous b) Ignoring the realities of royal life (e.g., lack of privacy, constant duties) c) Overlooking the impact of their decisions on their subjects d) Failing to show growth or change over the course of the story e) Relying too heavily on stereotypes or clichés

Incorporating Royal Etiquette and Protocol

Royal characters often adhere to strict codes of conduct and protocol. While you don't need to become an expert in royal etiquette, incorporating some of these elements can add authenticity to your story:

Forms of address (Your Majesty, Your Highness, etc.)

Court ceremonies and rituals

Dress codes and regalia

Rules of precedence in social situations

Diplomatic protocols when interacting with other royals or dignitaries

Exploring Different Types of Royal Characters

Remember that not all royal characters need to be ruling monarchs. Consider exploring other royal roles, such as:

The rebel prince or princess who rejects their royal duties

The reluctant heir thrust into power unexpectedly

The exiled royal fighting to reclaim their throne

The royal spouse adapting to life in the palace

The illegitimate child discovering their royal heritage

Each of these archetypes offers unique storytelling opportunities and challenges for character development.

Balancing Historical Accuracy and Creative License

If you're writing historical fiction featuring real royalty, you'll need to strike a balance between historical accuracy and creative interpretation. While it's important to respect known facts and timelines, you also have the freedom to explore the inner lives and motivations of these historical figures.

Tips for balancing accuracy and creativity:

Thoroughly research the historical figure and their time period

Clearly differentiate between historical fact and fictional interpretation

Use author's notes to explain any significant departures from known history

Focus on filling in the gaps in the historical record rather than contradicting established facts

Developing Royal Character Arcs

Like any well-rounded character, your royal protagonist should undergo growth and change throughout your story. Consider how their experiences might challenge their beliefs, alter their perspective, or force them to confront their flaws.

Possible character arcs for royal characters:

From naive idealist to pragmatic ruler

From reluctant heir to confident leader

From isolated monarch to connected leader who understands their subjects

From power-hungry tyrant to benevolent ruler (or vice versa)

Remember, character growth doesn't always have to be positive. Sometimes, the most compelling stories involve characters who face moral decline or tragic falls from grace.

Remember, while the trappings of royalty may be grand, at their core, your royal characters are still human. They love, fear, hope, and struggle like anyone else. It's this humanity, set against the backdrop of power and responsibility, that makes royal characters so fascinating to read and write about.

Happy writing, - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[st-just]

Video game I desperately want to exist: Medieval/early modern court where you play a (relatively) low-born courtier who has to intrigue their way to the top. Possible routes include both a) being competent and useful enough to be indispensable to the royal administration, b) playing the factional intrigue and blackmail game flawlessly and c) sleeping your way to the top.

90% of possible endings should be either dying in disgrace or being executed for treason.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PRINCE!ANAKIN HEADCANONS 👑

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Prince!Anakin who was a ruthless, meticulous, arrogant.. yet somehow with a heart. For others he was simple a wise and intellectual future king

Prince!Anakin whose marriage between him and you was arranged to solidify an alliance between your two kingdoms, a necessity driven by political and military pressures. Anakin, now King after the recent death of his father, was resistant to the idea of marriage, especially one born out of duty rather than love. He had always been wary of love, having seen the toll it took on those around him, particularly his own family.

Prince!Anakin who refused to consumate your marriage at the beginning

Prince!Anakin who, at the beginning, highlighted the true reason of your marriage and put you in the other part of the castle so you two wouldn't see each other

Prince!Anakin who is known as a formidable and stern ruler, deeply dedicated to his kingdom. He built emotional walls around his heart, vowing never to let anyone close enough to hurt him. When you first arrived at court, he treated you with cold politeness, making it clear that this marriage was a political arrangement, not a romantic one. And yet, in contrast, you entered the marriage with hope, a believer in fairytales and the possibility of finding love even in an arranged union. Despite Anakin's cold demeanor, you remained kind and patient, trying to find small ways to connect with him (but after his countless cold responds you grew yourself impatient and sharp in tongue, although he was your king, so..being nice had to be in place..at least in public)

Prince!Anakin who, over time, began to notice your unwavering optimism and the light you brought into his otherwise pragmatic and calculated life. He admired your strength and the way you handled court politics with grace, but he kept his distance emotionally, afraid of what letting you in would mean.

Prince!Anakin who felt somehow attracted to you, even if he didn't plan this marriage, he didn't want to be married to you, yet there was just something about you he found unique, alluring and he couldn't help but be drawn to your presence (which was very frustrating and weird for him)

Prince!Anakin who whenever you asked for something he always came up with 'ask for anything and it'll be given to you. Even the half of my kingdom' thing

Prince!Anakin who, after your relentless asking, took you hunting;

"Your Majesty, with all due respect, are you sure this is an appropriate place for the queen?" one of the men spoke, clearly uneasy.

Anakin shot him an irritated glare, his patience wearing thin. He was acutely aware that the hunting grounds weren't exactly the safest place for the queen, especially given her delicate condition. But there was little he could do about it now. He’d much rather have her safely ensconced in the palace, yet the situation demanded otherwise.

His frustration mounted as more and more people questioned his decisions. He knew what he was doing; he didn’t need anyone else second-guessing him.

"Are you questioning my decision?" he snapped, turning his horse to face the man directly. The intensity in his eyes made it clear he wasn't in the mood for dissent.

The man visibly flinched, his face paling. "I—I’m merely pointing out that, perhaps, hunting isn't a... lady-like activity for the queen," he stuttered, his voice wavering. The courtiers around them shifted uncomfortably, their gazes dropping.

Anakin's hands tightened into fists around the reins of his horse. The growing annoyance was palpable in his stance. He had been patient long enough, but this was the last straw.

"Who's the king here, me or you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerously firm. His eyes narrowed, the simmering anger barely contained. He understood the risks; it was precisely why he hadn't wanted her to join. But her presence here was a necessity, and he wouldn’t tolerate any more questioning of his authority.

Anakin watched with growing concern as you struggled to ride your horse. Despite his efforts to focus on the path ahead, his gaze kept drifting to you. He saw your difficulty and felt a deep, instinctive urge to help you, to lift you onto his own horse and spare you this struggle. His grip on the reins tightened as he forced himself to look away.

"Stop that horse; you’re going to hurt yourself," he muttered, bringing his horse to a halt.

You wrestled with the reins, your legs trembling as you finally managed to bring the horse to a stop. Breathing heavily, you glanced over at him.

Anakin's eyes scanned over you with concern. You were clearly struggling, sweat glistening on your skin, the gorset clinging uncomfortably. Despite your evident distress, you still looked captivating, and it was driving him to distraction.

"Can you get down yourself, or do you need help?" he asked, his voice firm but laced with concern.

"I think I can manage," you mumbled, attempting to dismount. You nearly stumbled as you got down, and Anakin's brow furrowed, expecting you to fall. To his relief, you managed to stay upright, though he couldn't hide his frustration.

He shook his head and approached, knowing it was too risky to let you continue riding alone. Your struggle was wearing him thin, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.

"You can’t even get off a horse without almost falling," he said with a scoff.

You shot him a defiant glare, walking over to him "Not all of us are as skilled at riding as you are, Your Highness," you retorted with a touch of sarcasm, your voice dripping with mockery.

He helped you onto his horse, his hands steady as he guided you into the saddle. As you settled in, your hip brushed against his, sending a jolt through both of you. Your heart raced, and you had to look away, struggling to steady your breath.

The accidental touch ignited a fierce longing in Anakin. He let out a small, strained laugh, trying to remain composed. He positioned himself before you, his body pressing against your back as he mounted the horse behind you.

"Take the horse back to the castle," he instructed, his voice low and firm.

As he took the reins, his presence pressed against you, the tension between you palpable. Every movement seemed to heighten the charged atmosphere, and both of you were acutely aware of the closeness.

Your hands tightened around his waist, your body pressed firmly against his back. The sweet vanilla scent of yours filled his senses, and he could feel the warmth of your curves against him "Hold tight. This won’t be a slow ride," he said, his voice rough and low.

->

You gasped as he urged the horse into a faster pace. "I thought we were going hunting?" your breath warm against his ear.

The closeness of your voice managed to sent a shiver down his spine. Yet, he pushed those distracting thoughts aside and focused on guiding the horse through the hunting grounds.

"It’ll take a while to reach the animals," he replied curtly, the horse’s speed increasing.

"Slow down for—"

He smirked when he felt your grip tighten around his waist. Your face was buried against him, and he could almost feel your fear. It was both thrilling and maddening, and he could hardly ignore how much he enjoyed your closeness.

"Stop whining," he said, amusement lacing his voice.

Your fingers this time dug into his skin with your voice tinged with panic. "I’m not whining!" you protested, your breath hitching as the horse made another sharp turn.

He felt your fingers leaving an imprint on his muscles. The sensation only heightened his awareness of how tightly they were pressed together. He found himself wishing she would hold on even tighter.

"You’re going to leave marks on my stomach with your fingers," he said in a low, almost teasing tone, not easing the horse’s pace.

With a scoff, you dug your fingernails in a little deeper. "Good. Maybe it’ll teach you to slow down a bit."

As you arrived at the wooden hunting cabin nestled in the forest, Anakin led the way inside, with you following closely. The two courtiers stayed outside, leaving you alone.

"Do you know how to use a bow?" Anakin asked, his gaze fixed on a collection of hunting gear.

"Yes, my father taught me," you mumbled, your attention drawn to the array of stuffed animals lining the walls.

Anakin moved to the shelves, picking up various pieces of hunting equipment. He tried to stay focused, but he couldn't ignore the way your beautiful, the prettiest he had ever seen eyes wandered around the rustic cabin, intrigued by its contents. In some way, he wanted his gaze on him, only on him

"So, I assume you're quite skilled with the bow?"

"The last time I held a bow was ten years ago. We'll see," your tone light but confident.

He walked over to you, extending the bow toward you. His gaze lingered on you, noting how your hair was tousled from the wind and those eyes sparkled with curiosity. As he held out the bow, your hands brushed lightly, sending a subtle jolt through him.

"Let’s see if you haven’t forgotten how to shoot," he said, his voice carrying a playful edge.

you couldn't help but roll your eyes with your lips curling into a teasing smile. "Careful, Your Highness. I might mistake you for a doe."

Anakin’s brow arched in amusement. Your sarcasm was endearing, and he had to suppress a smirk at the thought of you aiming a bow at him. He moved a little closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Would you shoot me in the heart, my little doe?"

"Absolutely, I would."

A slow, teasing smirk spread across his lips at your response. The intensity in your voice stirred something primal within him. He found himself torn between wanting to silence you with a kiss and reveling in your boldness.

"Or would you aim right between the eyes?" he challenged, his tone a mix of amusement and desire.

"I’d not dream of anything better, Your Highness," you whispered with venom "i’d watch as crimson red liquid overwhelms your face while you beg for mercy, choking on your own blood."

Anakin shivered at your words, the mix of irritation and arousal making his control slip. You were infuriatingly charming, and your fierce spirit only made you more tempting. Yet, he wanted to shut you up, but he was equally captivated by your daring. His expression hardened a little due to your boldness

"You’re a little minx, you know that?"

"Oh, Your Highness," you replied with mock sweetness, "I’m your worst nightmare," and with a final glare, you turned and walked away, leaving him in the cabin.

Prince!Anakin who, one night, after a particularly stressful day dealing with court matters, found you in the royal gardens, talking softly to a group of children about a fairytale. Something about the way you spoke, the softness in your voice, and the way the children adored you, made him pause. For the first time, he truly saw you—not just as his queen, but as a woman who brought warmth and light into a cold, stone palace.

Prince!Anakin who slowly began to fall in love with you without even realizing it. He found himself seeking your counsel on matters of state, not just because you were his queen, but because he valued your opinion. Your presence became a comfort to him, a constant in his life that he didn’t want to lose. Yet, he struggled with these feelings, as they contradicted his vow to never love.

Prince!Anakin who, in time, began searching for your presence in every place, your voice in every conversation, your eyes in every crowd

Prince!Anakin who sometimes appeared in your chambers at night;

"Leave us," Anakin commanded, his voice firm, though laced with an undercurrent of urgency.

The maids exchanged quick glances but obeyed, slipping out of the room and leaving them alone in the softly lit quarters. Her room was a sanctuary, filled with warmth and quiet elegance, but the atmosphere now was thick with unspoken emotions and the heat of longing.

The moment the door clicked shut, he moved with a sudden, desperate urgency, closing the distance between them. His lips crashed against hers, the kiss searing with the force of everything he’d been holding back.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you both tumbled onto the bed, his weight pressing into you. "Your Highness—why the rush?" you teased, breathless and amused, though your heart pounded in sync with his.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, his lips trailed down your neck, each kiss more fervent than the last. The feel of your skin under his mouth was intoxicating, each soft gasp from you spurring him on. He had held back for so long, but now, he was overwhelmed by his need for you, by the depth of his desire. It was as if all the weeks and months of pent-up emotions had broken free, and he was helpless to resist.

"Can’t wait," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with a raw hunger that sent shivers down your spine. His hands moved to pin you beneath him, his grip firm yet reverent, as though he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that took your breath away. The world outside this room ceased to exist; all that mattered was the heat between you, the undeniable pull that had finally won out over duty and decorum.

"Neither can I," you whispered back, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clothing as he leaned in, capturing your lips once more.

"Doe, what are you doing?" he murmured, his morning voice raspy and thick with sleep.

"You're in my bed and already reading papers," you mumbled, pressing soft, lingering kisses to his shoulder

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he felt your lips on him. Your touch was one of his favorite things, a soothing balm against the constant demands of his royal duties. But then, reality intruded, and a sigh escaped his lips, the weight of his responsibilities settling back onto his shoulders.

"I have meetings all morning," he said, his tone carrying a hint of frustration, the thought of leaving you so soon already souring his mood.

"Just show up a little later," you whispered against his ear, her voice a playful challenge. "Aren't you the king?"

His eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feeling of your breath on his neck. The temptation to stay was overwhelming. All he wanted was to remain here, wrapped in your warmth, to forget the world outside. But the demands of the crown were relentless, and he knew he couldn’t shirk his duties, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Wish I could stay here with you all morning," he mumbled with a sigh, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your arm. His voice held a slight edge of grumpiness, the conflict between his desires and his obligations clear.

"We can make it quick," you whispered into his ear

He could practically hear the smirk in your voice, and he knew you had him exactly where you wanted. He was already running late, but with your body pressed so temptingly against his, all thoughts of duty and meetings started to fade.

In one swift motion, he turned, pinning you beneath him on the bed "How quick?" he asked, his voice a husky growl

"Ten minutes?" you grinned

He scoffed, a smirk curving his lips as he leaned in closer, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, trapping you between his strong arms. You were a temptress, and he knew you could very well be his undoing, but right now, he didn’t care.

"Ten minutes?" he repeated, his hands sliding further up your thighs, fingers brushing against your heated skin. "Now you're just underestimating me," he murmured before capturing your lips with his, sealing his surrender.

Prince!Anakin who moved you back to his bedroom, with no care if in other places the queen has her own bed to sleep in

Prince!Anakin who had his own moment when he realized just how much he cared for you—perhaps during a crisis when you were in danger, and he found himself terrified at the thought of losing you;

Anakin sat in his dimly lit office, his mind consumed by the latest stack of documents that required his attention. The weight of ruling often bore down on him, but he carried it with the strength and resilience expected of a king. Yet, as he heard the soft but urgent footsteps approaching from behind, he felt a strange unease settle in his chest. He looked up, finding his old counselor standing before him, a grim expression etched across his face.

"What is it this time?" Anakin asked, his tone impatient as he set the papers aside.

The counselor hesitated for a moment before speaking, "It’s the queen, your highness..."

Anakin’s eyes narrowed instantly, his heart skipping a beat. The mention of you, his queen, brought an immediate sense of dread. His voice turned sharp, almost cutting. "What about her?"

The counselor’s face paled, his voice almost trembling as he replied, "Her condition has worsened."

Anakin shot up from his chair, the fear and panic he had buried deep within now clawing its way to the surface. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. He fixed his counselor with an intense gaze, the demand in his voice barely masked by his rising desperation. "What do you mean ‘worsened’? What has happened?"

"She’s been battling a high fever for the past two days," one of the maids interjected softly, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "Her wounds... they’re not healing as they should. Her condition is deteriorating, your highness."

Without another word, Anakin stormed out of his office, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He moved with a speed fueled by fear, every step echoing the growing terror that he might lose you. When he reached your chambers, he pushed open the door with a force that sent a gust of air rushing into the room.

There you lay, on the grand bed that now seemed to dwarf your frail figure. Your skin was pale, marred by the angry red wounds that refused to heal, and your breaths were shallow, labored. Every whimper, every groan that escaped your lips felt like a dagger to his heart.

Anakin crossed the room in swift strides, his hand immediately finding its place on your fevered cheek. The heat of your skin burned against his fingers, and the sight of you in such agony nearly brought him to his knees. The fierce king, known for his strength and resolve, felt utterly powerless in the face of your suffering.

"Leave us," he commanded, his voice laced with authority, though his eyes never left you.

"Your highness, but—" one of the maids began to protest.

"I said leave us!" he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. The maids exchanged uneasy glances before hurriedly leaving the room, closing the door behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by your shallow breaths and the occasional soft moan of pain. Anakin sat down on the edge of the bed, his heart breaking as he took in your weakened state. You looked so fragile, yet even in your pain, there was a beauty about you that took his breath away.

"It’s so painful..." you whispered, your voice hoarse, barely audible.

Anakin felt his chest tighten, a deep sense of guilt and helplessness washing over him. He gently stroked your fevered face, his thumb tracing the contours of your cheek. "I know, my love," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m so sorry... I wish I could take this pain away from you."

He carefully pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if his embrace could shield you from the torment ravaging your body. He held you close, feeling the intense heat radiating from your fevered skin, the trembling of your weakened frame. It was as if holding you tighter could somehow anchor you to him, keep you from slipping away.

"Shh, I’ve got you," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of pain that wracked your body. He gently caressed your hair, his touch tender and full of the love he struggled to express in words.

With a wet cloth in hand, Anakin carefully dabbed it against your wounds, the coolness providing a fleeting relief. He moved with a delicate precision, his fingers trembling slightly as he worked. The sight of your suffering was unbearable, yet he forced himself to remain calm, to be strong for you.

"I’m here," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he pressed the cloth against your fevered skin.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as he closed his eyes, silently praying for your recovery. Anakin, the king who had faced countless battles, was now facing his greatest fear—losing you, the one person who had made his life worth living.

And in that moment, he would have given anything, sacrificed anything, to see you smile again.

You closed your eyes, your voice small and strained as you spoke. "You shouldn’t look at me... I’m revolting."

"Revolting?" The word was almost laughable to him. Even now, when you were so weakened by illness, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. "You’re not revolting. You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful," he said with a quiet intensity, his fingers brushing tenderly against your cheek.

"Have you seen my arms?" you asked, your voice tinged with bitterness.

He glanced down at your arms, at the wounds that marred your once flawless skin. The sight of them filled him with a deep sorrow, but it didn’t change the way he felt. "Yes," he replied, his tone unwavering. His fingers gently traced the inflamed skin, his touch feather-light as if afraid to cause you more pain.

You flinched slightly, the tenderness of your wounds evident. "Does this look beautiful to you?" you muttered, disbelief coloring your words.

Anakin let out a soft, almost incredulous scoff. How could you not see what he saw? Even with the pain and the sickness, you were still the woman who had stolen his heart, the woman who made him believe in something beyond duty and power. "Yes, it does. You’re beautiful, no matter what. Sick, wounded, healthy—it doesn’t matter. I will always see you as the most beautiful woman in the world," he declared, his voice firm, eyes burning with sincerity.

He saw the doubt flicker in your eyes, and it pained him deeply. How could you be so blind to your own beauty? To the strength and grace that still radiated from you, even now?

He leaned closer, his fingers drifting down to trace the delicate line of your collarbone, his touch reverent, almost worshipful. "You have no idea how stunning you are," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, meant only for your ears. "Even like this, you take my breath away."

Prince!Anakin who's one of few hobbies was making love to you;

he loved to tease you about heirs. he brought it up often, with a playful tone, but deep down, the desire was real and intense. The thought of you carrying his child, your belly round, your breasts swollen ignited a fierce, possessive longing within him. He wanted to see you like this - pregnant and full of new life

"gonna give me heirs, hm?" he whispered with his pace quickening

your sweet, breathless moans only spurred him on. You were so beautiful beneath him, your flushed cheeks and heaving chest making you look even more irresistible, if that's possible

"you'd look so goddamn stunning with my heir inside you, sweetheart" his voice a rough murmur

his cock, all envelopted by your squishy walls, moved deeper to reach his, and yours, edge "you'd be mine, completely. Carrying my child, you'd belong to me in every way"

"am i not yours already?" you panted

his lips connected with yours, making sure to nipp on your bottom lip "you are mine, love..but having you carry my child..it's a whole other kind of mine" he groaned, his large hands moving over to your hips

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[goldenxshine]

☾⋆｡°✩ The Silent Gaze ☾⋆｡°✩

aegon ii targaryen x high-born!reader

summary: Shy and reserved, Lady Y/N secretly admires the confident Prince Aegon Targaryen from afar. At a feast, an accidental spill brings them together. From that moment, Aegon begins seeking her out, and an unexpected bond blossoms between them.

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The grand hall of the Red Keep was alive with light and laughter. Torches lined the stone walls, casting a warm glow over the gathered nobles, knights, and courtiers.

Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of the king and heir to the Iron Throne, stood among his family’s closest allies. His silver hair, a mark of House Targaryen, glinted in the torchlight, and his easy smile made him the subject of many an admiring gaze. He laughed often, a sound that seemed to charm everyone in its reach, his presence drawing people to him.

Watching from the edge of the hall was Lady Y/N. She stood out not only because of her colorful attire - she always wore colorful dresses. But also for her quiet, almost invisible presence.

Unlike the other young ladies vying for the prince’s attention, Y/N was shy and preferred not to mingle. She knew that her social skills were somewhat lacking. Words often failed her in conversation, and she was quick to retreat into silence, hoping her quiet demeanor would shield her from the gaze of others.

But she found herself unable to keep her eyes off Aegon. She was fascinated by him - by his confidence, his humor, his personality, and the way he could make everyone around him feel noticed.

She often caught herself glancing his way, watching how he interacted with others, how he laughed. There was something comforting in just being near him, even if he didn’t know she existed.

Over time, her fascination had blossomed into a quiet, secret admiration. She never dared approach him, of course, knowing that someone like her, a shy, a bit socially awkward lady had no chance of catching his attention.

But she found solace in just observing him, letting her thoughts drift as she listened to his voice carrying across the hall. It was a voice she had come to know well, though he had never spoken a single word to her.

The feast tonight was in celebration. The Red Keep was filled with cheer, and goblets of wine flowed freely. Y/N sat at a table off to the side, a safe distance from the center of the revelry. Her friend, Lady Joanna, chattered beside her, but Y/N’s thoughts were elsewhere.

Unconsciously, her gaze drifted across the hall to where Aegon stood, deep in conversation with a group of knights.

Aegon seemed to feel her gaze; he paused mid-laugh and glanced around the room. Her heart jumped, and she quickly looked down, her cheeks turning red as she realized how close she had come to being caught.

“Y/N, are you even listening?” Joanna teased, nudging her friend.

“Of course, I was just… thinking,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely audible over the din.

Joanna gave her an exasperated look, following her gaze to the prince. “Oh, I see. The famous Prince Aegon. You should just go talk to him, you know?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No! I-I couldn’t. He… he doesn’t even know I exist.” Her voice trailed off as she toyed nervously with a bracelet on her left wrist.

“That’s only because you’re always hiding over here” Joanna replied. “You’re lovely, Y/N, and anyone can see you’re a lady of grace and intelligence. You just have to give him a chance to see it too.”

Y/N couldn’t imagine it. Her heart raced at the thought of speaking to him, of somehow capturing his attention. But she dismissed the thought. A prince and a girl like her? It was impossible.

The evening went on, and Y/N tried her best to enjoy the company at her table, though her gaze still drifted now and then to where Aegon mingled among the guests.

Finally, she reached for the pitcher of wine, hoping to calm her nerves a bit with a small sip. But as she poured, her hand trembled, and the cup tilted in her grip.

She heard someone approach the table and shifted to make way, but her movement was too sudden. Her hand caught on the pitcher, and before she realized it, her wine had splashed across the sleeve of the person beside her.

She gasped in horror, her heart sinking as she looked up to apologize - only to find herself staring straight into the eyes of Prince Aegon himself.

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry, Your Grace!” she stuttered, her face turning red as she reached instinctively for a cloth to dab at his sleeve. She felt clumsy and foolish, knowing that her worst fear had come to life. Of all the people she could have spilled wine on.

Aegon chuckled softly. “There’s no harm done, my lady. It seems the wine wanted to find its way to me tonight.”

Y/N froze, hardly daring to breathe as she looked up at him. His expression was surprisingly kind, his violet eyes sparkling with amusement. His voice a bit drunk. She was mesmerized, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten as she realized that he was looking at her - not just a glance, but with interest.

“Y/N,” the lady mumbled, hardly trusting herself to say it. “Lady Y/N.”

“A lovely name,” he replied. He tilted his head, studying her in a way that made her heart race. “I haven’t seen you much at these feasts, have I?”

“No,” she replied, feeling awkward under his gaze. “I… I tend to stay out of the way.” She looked down, unable to meet his eyes, her cheeks again flushing with color.

Aegon chuckled, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to ease her tension. “That’s a shame, Lady Y/N. You don’t seem like someone meant to stay hidden.”

He held her gaze, and for a moment, Y/N felt something shift between them - a spark, faint but undeniable.

The moment was quick, but it lingered in her heart long after he had moved on. She replayed their conversation in her mind many times, feeling the weight of his words and the warmth of his a bit drunk gaze.

For the first time, a spark of hope flared in her heart. Perhaps Joanna had been right. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely invisible.

In the days that followed, Y/N found herself crossing paths with Aegon more often. Whether by chance or fate, she was never quite sure. She would catch him glancing her way during court gatherings, a small sly smile gracing his lips when he saw her. He seemed to have a way of finding her, even in a crowded hall, and each time their eyes met, Y/N felt her heart flutter.

One afternoon, she found herself in the castle’s gardens, enjoying the peace among the blooming roses. She hadn’t expected anyone to join her, so she was startled when a familiar voice broke the silence.

“Lady Y/N,” Aegon said. He sounded surprisingly sober, smiling as he approached. “May I join you?”

She nodded, trying to hide her surprise. She wasn’t sure why he had come, but she was grateful for his company.

They walked together in silence for a moment, neither quite sure what to say. Finally, Aegon spoke, his tone gentle. “You know, I often find myself in these gardens. They’re… peaceful.”

Y/N smiled softly. “Yes, they are. It’s a place where one can think without interruption.”

Aegon glanced at her. “You must have a great deal on your mind.”

She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. But something in his eyes encouraged her to speak. “It’s just… difficult, sometimes, to be in a place like this. Everyone here is so confident, so sure of themselves. I often feel like I don’t quite belong.”

Aegon looked at her with an understanding she hadn’t expected. “I think you belong more than you realize, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, her heart racing as she took in his words. She could feel the warmth of his gaze, the softness in his tone. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that he might truly see her - not as just another courtier, but as someone worthy of his attention.

Over the following weeks, their paths continued to intertwine. Aegon sought her out at feasts, engaged her in conversation, and even invited her to accompany him on walks through the castle grounds. They talked about everything, and Y/N found herself opening up to him in ways she had never imagined.

Each time they spoke, she felt her feelings for him grow. She found herself captivated by his kindness, his intelligence, and the quiet strength he displayed. And slowly, she dared to hope that he felt the same.

One evening, as they strolled through the gardens, Aegon stopped and turned to her, his expression serious. “Y/N,” he began. “I… I’ve come to realize something.”

Her heart pounded as she waited for him to continue.

“I find myself thinking of you more often than anyone else,” he confessed, his gaze unwavering. “There’s something about you, something… genuine and beautiful, that I can’t ignore. You make me want to be a better man.”

Y/N felt warm as she listened to his words and that was the moment she realized, the prince felt the same way about her as she felt about him.

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to the Death of Monarchs

(no, unfortunately this is not a how to guide. Special Branch can now unhitch from outside my house)

To quote The Lion King... The Circle of Life. Monarchs are born, they live, they die. But what exactly happens when a monarch dies?

Dying

The monarch is on their deathbed. Their family, their friends, their advisers (their bit on the side sometimes) are lingering in the room or in the corridor. But of course, death isn't always expected. Usually, if the death is sudden, such as during a military campaign or an assassination, there is a scramble to preserve the news of the death for a time in order to make the necessary arrangements.

Causes of Death

"... Let us sit upon the ground. And tell sad stories of the death of kings; How some have been deposed; some slain in war, Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed; Some poison'd by their wives: some sleeping kill'd; All murder'd," - William Shakespeare, Richard II.

Monarchs die like everybody else. They can die from anything. Disease (Alexander the Great), death at war (Richard I), assassination (Philip III of Macedonia), old age (Elizabeth II), starvation (Richard II), misuse of a hot poker (Edward II), murder at the hands of family (Edward V), childbirth (Jadwiga of Poland), accident (William of Orange... Pussy) , poison (Emperor Claudius) or on the toilet (George II). The death of a monarch is something at will be contested sometimes. If the body is not seen, there may be a belief that they live on. If the monarch dies suddenly, there may be rumours of foul play. No matter how a monarch dies, it will lead to uneasiness.

After Death

The steps after the monarch dies, usually include securing the next heir, proclaiming them to the people, and then working toward a clean succession. This time is delicate, it can be the breeding ground of coups and treacheries. Any claim other than the designated heir must be silenced by the proclaimation of the next sovereign as soon as possible. Child monarchs are extremely at risk during this period as the adults around them will seek to take custody of them. They who hold the monarch hold the power. It is imperative that the heir be notified at once so the stability of the kingdom can be assured.

The X is dead, Long Live the Next Guy

Once they breathe their last, all attention will turn to the next monarch or the scramble to find one. Be it by succession by blood or an election, the designated successor will immediately (even in the absence of a coronation) become the next monarch. Likely they will have been near their predecessor, either at their bedside or at least in shouting distance. But if they are away, they will quickly return to claim their throne. Without delay. Elizabeth II was actually on royal tour when she recieved news her father had died, leading to a hasty scramble back home.

When things don't go according to plan

The monarch passes away. There are tears. Sometimes. There are sometimes coups as I mentioned. Young would be monarchs could be kidnapped, eg. Edward V. Another heir claims the throne instead of the designated heir, eg Lady Jane Grey and King Stephen. Monarchs who die on battlefields can have their bodies stolen (James IV of Scotland) or thrown into a ditch with their crown snatched (Richard III). The death of a monarch is a delicate time and dangerous for all royal family members. In some instances, it would lead to murder. If a son of a previous Ottoman Sultan wished to be the next Sultan, they would order the mass murder of their brothers upon their father's death - usually death by strangulation.

Funeral

The funeral of the monarch is something that is usually planned from day one. There would be some sort of plan in place for the funeral, the when, the where and the how. The monarch might know these plans but the upper rank of courtier and aides would know. Funerals would follow a certain pattern, likely adapting from previous funerals. They would be a public, a lavish ceremony that would see to the closure of businesses, entertainment venues, the arrival of foreign dignitaries and a long procession of the body surrounded by military forces, watched over by the grieving public. If they actually liked the monarch. Some deaths of Kings were met without any sadness such as George IV. There might also be lavish games thrown in the monarch's honour.

Mourning

Mourning is the period of time that the country, the court and royal family grieves publicly. It can last a week or so, like today. Or up to a year. In China, sometimes mourning lasted 3 years or more. Mourning period often came with strict rules about what one could do or dress in. In Edwardian times, there were stages in mourning. Full mourning could last up to a year, with women wearing black with very little ornament and widows covering their hair with bonnets of veils. Second mourning (6-9 months), women's clothes could be adorned with trimming and finally half mourning is the 3-6 month period where colour started to be reintroduced, restricted at first to greys and mauves. There would be no balls, no parties, no sporting during the deepest part of mourning.

[imonanotherlebel]

A Promise In Flames - Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon x Stark.Fem Reader

No family war, Rhaenyra is Queen

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Genre : Romance, Smut, arranged marriage, cold husband

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, kissing, penetrative sex, oral fem receiving, virginity, slight angst in the beginning

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The hall was adorned with the finest tapestries of House Velaryon and the dragon-sigil banners of House Targaryen. Every detail of the wedding had been planned to perfection, each element a reminder of the union between the eldest son of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and the noble daughter of House Stark, Lady Y/N. Yet, amidst the grandeur, a deep-seated coldness lingered in Jacaerys Velaryon’s heart.

Y/N had heard the whispers among the courtiers, the talk of her husband’s resentment towards this marriage, a union born of political necessity rather than love. She had tried to show kindness, to be patient and understanding, but her efforts seemed to meet an unyielding wall of indifference.

On the night of their wedding, Y/N stood in the dimly lit bedchamber, her heart heavy with uncertainty. The gown she wore felt too ornate, too foreign against her skin, a symbol of the life she had entered into—a life where her husband did not yet see her as his wife.

Jacaerys entered the room, his steps heavy with the weight of duty. His dark curls fell messily around his face, his expression unreadable. He looked at Y/N with a distant gaze, one that pierced her heart more than any harsh words could.

“I will not consummate this marriage tonight,” he said, his voice cold and detached.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, but she managed a small nod, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “As you wish, my prince.”

Without another word, Jacaerys turned away, retreating to a separate chamber. The door closed with a resounding finality, leaving Y/N alone in the silence of the room. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the flickering flames in the hearth, tears welling in her eyes.

Days passed, and the distance between them remained, a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge. Y/N continued to show him kindness in every small way she could—placing flowers from the garden on his table, ensuring his favorite dishes were served at meals, and offering him gentle smiles whenever their paths crossed. But Jacaerys, consumed by his own anger and frustration, remained aloof.

One evening, after a particularly tense day in the court, Jacaerys found Y/N sitting by the fire in their shared chambers, her needlework resting on her lap. She looked up as he entered, her eyes soft and welcoming, despite the coldness he had shown her.

He hesitated at the threshold, a wave of guilt washing over him. “Lady Y/N…”

Y/N set aside her needlework, her hands trembling slightly as she rose to her feet. “Yes, Jacaerys?”

He crossed the room, his steps slow and uncertain. “I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been unfair to you, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she stepped closer to him, her heart aching at the sincerity in his words. “I know it must be hard for you, Jacaerys,” she said softly, her hand reaching out to gently touch his cheek. “I understand the frustration you must feel, but I want you to know that your mother did this out of love for you. She wants the best for you, as any mother would.”

Jacaerys closed his eyes at the warmth of her touch, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away. “I… I’ve been so blind, so wrapped up in my own anger that I didn’t see how much this must have hurt you.”

Y/N shook her head gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “You resemble her so much, you know. You’re strong, determined, and you carry the weight of your responsibilities with such grace. I see so much of her in you, Jacaerys.”

Her words struck a chord deep within him, unraveling the layers of bitterness he had clung to. “I don’t deserve your kindness, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“Jacaerys,” she whispered, her voice filled with a sweetness that tugged at his heartstrings. “I won’t rush you into anything. Take your time… I’ll wait for you, Jacaerys.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft, innocent kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for just a moment before she pulled away. Her gesture was simple, yet it carried the weight of her unwavering patience and understanding.

Jacaerys opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a newfound respect and admiration. The tears that glistened in her eyes mirrored the emotions swirling within him—regret, sorrow, and a burgeoning affection that he had been too blind to see.

Weeks passed, and the tension between them slowly began to thaw. Jacaerys found himself noticing the small things Y/N did for him-the way she always made sure his favorite cloak was laid out on colder mornings, or how she would leave little notes for him on his desk, offering words of encouragement or gentle reminders to take care of himself.

Y/N's presence became a comforting balm to his troubled mind. He found solace in her quiet strength, in the way she never pushed him but was always there, a steady and unwavering force in his life. He began to seek her out more, not out of obligation, but because he genuinely enjoyed her company.

Yet, despite their growing closeness, there was still a part of him that held back. The wounds of his resentment were slow to heal, and while he had apologized, he knew there was still much he needed to make amends for.

One day, during a particularly heated council meeting, Jacaerys found himself at odds with several of the lords. A dispute had arisen over the borders of their lands, with some of the noble houses threatening to withdraw their support from Rhaenyra if their demands were not met. The situation was tense, with tempers flaring and no clear solution in sight.

Jacaerys felt the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, the burden of leadership heavy on his shoulders. As the meeting adjourned, he remained in the council chamber, lost in thought and frustration. He knew he had to find a way to resolve the issue, but the path forward seemed fraught with obstacles.

It wasn't until later that evening, when he returned to his chambers, that he learned the dispute had been resolved. His steward, a loyal servant who had been with the family for many years, informed him that the situation had been handled swiftly and effectively.

"How?" Jacaerys asked, surprise evident in his voice. "Who intervened?"

The steward smiled gently, a twinkle of pride in his eyes. "It was your lady wife, my prince. She met with the lords personally and convinced them to reconsider their positions. She spoke with such wisdom and grace that they could not refuse her."

Jacaerys was stunned. "Y/N... she did this?"

The steward nodded. "Indeed, my prince. She risked much to ensure the peace, she risked her life and the future of house Stark, and she did it all for you."

Jacaerys felt a wave of emotions crash over him - gratitude, admiration, and a deep sense of guilt. He had underestimated her and failed to see the strength and courage she possessed. And now, she had risked her and her house'e safety, all for his sake.

Without another word, Jacaerys turned and sprinted towards their chambers, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to see her, to thank her, to apologize for all the ways he had wronged her.

As he approached their chambers, he slowed his pace, his eyes catching sight of Y/N standing on the balcony, her figure bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. She was looking out at the evening sky, her expression serene and peaceful, unaware of the turmoil raging within him.

Jacaerys took a moment to drink in the sight of her, his heart swelling with a newfound admiration and love. He had been a fool, blind to the treasure he had been given in her. But no more. He would make it right.

He entered the chambers quietly, dismissing the servants with a quick wave of his hand. As Y/N turned to face him, surprise flickered across her features. "Jacaerys, is everything alright?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.

Jacaerys didn't answer her with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, his hands reaching out to cup her face as he crashed his lips against hers. The kiss was urgent, filled with all the pent-up emotions he had been holding back-his guilt, his regret, and the growing love he could no longer deny.

Y/N gasped against his lips, her hands instinctively clutching at his tunic as she tried to steady herself. The intensity of his kiss took her by surprise, but she responded in kind, her heart racing as she melted into his embrace.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other's as they tried to catch their breath.

"Why?" Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Why now?"

Jacaerys closed his eyes, his hands still cradling her face. "Because I've been a fool, Y/N. I've been blind to the love you've shown me, to the sacrifices you've made. I've failed you as a husband, and I'm so, so sorry."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she listened to his words, her heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. "You don't have to apologize, Jacaerys," she whispered, her thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had begun to fall from his eyes. "I understand why you were angry. I never held it against you."

"But I should have been better," he insisted, his voice cracking with emotion. "I should have seen what was right in front of me all along. You are everything I never knew I needed, and I've been too blind to see it."

Y/N smiled softly, her hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. "I'm here, Jacaerys. I've always been here, waiting for you to see that."

Jacaerys leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. "And I see it now, my love. I see you, and I'll never let you go."

With those words, he captured her lips in another kiss, this one softer, sweeter, yet filled with a depth of emotion that took her breath away. As their lips moved together, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, bound together by the love that had finally blossomed between them.

Without breaking the kiss, Jacaerys lifted her into his arms, carrying her into the room. He moved with purpose, the weight of his earlier fears and doubts melting away as he focused solely on her.

They made their way to the bed, their hands roaming each other's bodies, their touches both tender and urgent. As they finally broke apart to catch their breath, Jacaerys gazed down at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and desire. His hands trembled slightly as he set her down softly on the soft bed.

He paused for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked at her, drinking in every detail of her face. She was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had never known he needed.

As he began to remove her gown, he noticed the way her hands trembled, the way her breath quickened with nerves. Her wide eyes, usually so filled with kindness and warmth, now held a flicker of fear.

Jacaerys stopped immediately, his hands coming up to gently cup her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheeks in a soothing gesture.

"Y/N..." he began softly, his voice tender as he searched her eyes. "Do you know what is to happen between us now?"

She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "Um... Consummation?"

"Yes, my love," Jacaerys confirmed with a soft smile, "but do you know what we are about to do? Are you okay with it?"

Y/N looked down, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I don't... Jacaerys, I have never been taught what I am to do on a consummation night... I have never been touched..."

Jacaerys's heart ached at her confession, his hands moving to gently hold hers. "It's alright, my love," he assured her, his voice filled with understanding. "I have never touched a woman either... But I have picked up a few instructions from my nuisance uncles and brothers..."

Y/N let out a nervous laugh, her tension easing slightly at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I've never done this before either."

Jacaerys leaned in closer, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, "Don't be nervous, Y/N. We'll learn this together, alright?"

She nodded slowly, her trust in him evident in the way she looked up at him, her eyes softening as she took comfort in his presence.

Jacaerys smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before moving to undress her, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her time to adjust. With each layer that fell away, he could feel her nervousness returning, but he kept his touch light, his kisses gentle, murmuring reassurances as he went.

When she was finally bare before him, Jacaerys took a moment to admire her, his eyes roaming over her body with a mix of awe and reverence. She was beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever imagined, and he felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him, a deep desire to cherish and worship every part of her.

He undressed himself next, his movements unhurried, giving her time to take him in as well. When he was finally naked, he moved to join her on the bed, his body hovering over hers as he leaned down to kiss her, their lips meeting in a slow, tender embrace.

Jacaerys deepened the kiss, his hands beginning to explore her body with a newfound confidence. He started at her neck, pressing soft kisses along her collarbone, moving lower with each breath. His hands followed suit, tracing the curves of her body, caressing her with a gentleness that made her shiver.

As his hands traveled lower, Y/N let out a small gasp, her body tensing slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. Jacaerys paused, lifting his head to look at her, his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, though her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I'm just... I'm just nervous," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

Jacaerys smiled softly, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. "You're doing so well, my love," he murmured against her mouth. "Just let me take care of you. We'll take it slow."

Y/N nodded again, her body relaxing slightly as she gave herself over to him, trusting him completely. Jacaerys continued his exploration, his hands moving lower until they found the heat between her thighs.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting hers in silent question. When she nodded, giving him permission, he gently parted her legs, his fingers finding the slickness there. He began to stroke her slowly, his touch light and teasing, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N gasped at the sensation, her hips bucking involuntarily as pleasure began to build within her. Jacaerys watched her closely, his own arousal growing as he saw the way her body responded to his touch.

He leaned down to kiss her again, his fingers continuing their slow, deliberate movements, coaxing more moans from her lips.

Jacaerys trailed soft kisses down her body, his lips worshiping every inch of her skin as he descended lower, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of her fully exposed to him.

For a moment, he simply stared, captivated by her beauty. His eyes traced the delicate folds of her heat, his fingers covered in her slick, his admiration evident in the way his gaze lingered. His heart swelled with a mixture of awe and desire, and he knew he wanted to worship her in every way possible.

He slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers, his hand gently brushing against her inner thigh. "Can I kiss you," he asked, his voice a low murmur filled with reverence. His gaze flicked back down to her heat, his fingers gently brushing over her petals as he added, "Here?"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her face flushing a deep shade of red at his request. She hesitated for a brief moment, the unfamiliarity of the situation making her heart race. But when she saw the tenderness in his eyes, the genuine care in his voice, she nodded, her consent given with a shy smile.

Jacaerys didn't hesitate. He dipped his head lower, his lips pressing a soft, exploratory kiss to her most intimate place. He could feel her body tense beneath him, her nerves evident, but he continued his ministrations with a gentleness that put her at ease.

He parted her folds with his tongue, tasting her for the first time, and the experience sent a surge of arousal through him. Her taste was intoxicating, sweet and heady, and he found himself eager to please her, to draw more of those delicious sounds from her lips.

As his tongue explored her, he kept his movements slow and deliberate, paying close attention to her reactions. When he found the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core, he circled it with his tongue, his movements steady and rhythmic.

Y/N let out a soft moan, her body arching slightly in response to the pleasure that began to build within her. Jacaerys smiled against her, the sound of her pleasure fueling his own desire as he continued his oral ministrations.

He alternated between teasing flicks of his tongue and gentle sucking, his hands holding her hips in place as she writhed beneath him. He was determined to bring her to the peak of pleasure, to show her just how much he cared for her, how much he wanted to make this experience unforgettable for both of them.

When he felt her thighs begin to tremble, her moans growing louder, he knew she was close. He doubled down on his efforts, his tongue working her with an urgency that matched the need in his own body.

With a final, firm stroke of his tongue, he sent her tumbling over the edge, her body convulsing as she cried out his name, her hands clutching at the sheets beneath her. Jacaerys continued to lave her with his tongue, drawing out her pleasure until she was a quivering, breathless mess beneath him.

Only then did he pull away, his lips glistening with her arousal as he moved back up her body, his eyes filled with love and admiration as he took in the sight of her, flushed and panting, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, sharing her taste with her as he murmured, "You're so beautiful, Y/N. I want to make you feel like this every day."

His voice was gentle, yet lust full. Getting her warmed up for the most intense part was his intention.

When he felt she was ready, he moved to position himself between her legs, his heart pounding with anticipation and nerves.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and trust. "Yes, Jacaerys... I'm ready."

He nodded, taking a deep breath as he guided himself to her entrance. He moved slowly, inching forward with careful precision, his eyes locked on hers as he watched for any sign of discomfort.

When he finally began to push inside, Y/N let out a small cry, her body tensing as she felt the unfamiliar stretch. Jacaerys paused immediately, his hands coming up to cradle her face as he kissed her gently, murmuring soothing words against her lips.

"You're doing so well, my love," he whispered. "Just relax. I'll go slow."

He resumed his movements, inching forward until he was fully seated inside her. He stilled for a moment, giving her time to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and face as he whispered words of comfort and love.

When he felt her body begin to relax around him, he started to move, his thrusts slow and gentle at first, allowing her to get used to the sensation. He could feel her tightness around him, her body clenching in response to his every movement, and it took all of his self-control not to lose himself completely.

Y/N moaned softly, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she began to move with him, her body responding to the pleasure he was giving her. Jacaerys leaned down to kiss her again, his lips moving against hers as he began to increase the pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he lost himself in the sensation of being inside her.

As their bodies moved together, the room filled with the sounds of their pleasure-soft moans, gasps, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Jacaerys's hands roamed her body, caressing her in all the right places, eliciting more moans from her lips.

He could feel the tension building within him, the tight coil of pleasure ready to snap at any moment. But he held back, wanting to bring her to the brink with him, wanting them to reach the pinnacle of their passion together.

"Jacaerys..." Y/N moaned, her voice breathless and filled with need.

Jacaerys's heart swelled at the sound of his name on her lips, the way she said it sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his core. "Say it again," he urged her, his voice husky with desire.

"Jacaerys..." she repeated, her voice trembling with the intensity of the moment.

Jacaerys groaned, his movements becoming more urgent as he felt himself nearing the edge. He reached down between them, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core, stroking her in time with his thrusts.

The combination of his movements and his touch sent Y/N spiralling, her body tensing as she teetered on the edge of release. "Jacaerys... I... I'm..." she gasped, her voice catching in her throat as she struggled to form words.

"Let go, my love," Jacaerys urged her, his own voice strained as he fought to hold back his own release. "I'm right here with you. Just let go."

With his words, Y/N finally fell over the edge, her body convulsing as pleasure washed over her in waves. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she cried out his name, her body clenching tightly around him as she came undone.

Jacaerys followed moments later, his own release crashing over him with an intensity that left him breathless. He buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering as he spilled inside her, their bodies still moving together in the aftermath of their passion.

They stayed like that for a long time, their bodies entwined, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Jacaerys pressed soft kisses to her skin, murmuring words of love and adoration against her ear.

When he finally pulled away, he looked down at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. "You're everything to me, Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much you mean to me."

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes filled with tears of happiness. "And I will spend the rest of mine loving you, Jacaerys," she replied, her voice soft and filled with love.

Jacaerys leaned down to kiss her again, their lips meeting in a slow, tender embrace, a promise of the future they would face together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

..............................

[little-bit-obsessed]

Born to Be a Courtier {Narnia}

The first chapter of my new Narnia fanfiction is out! I've made this little WIP intro for it mainly because I love doing WIP intros, so I hope you enjoy!!

Genre: Fantasy, historical

Ship: Peter/Caspian

POV: Third person switching between all four Pevensies and Caspian

Description: After years of living peacefully in the Shuddering Woods, the family of the Beavers, where the Pevensies live, is found by the Telmarines. Susan and Peter are sent to the Castle for a life at Court, watched closely by King Miraz, as Lucy and Edmund, still hiding out in the Woods, plan to usurp King Miraz to save the Narnians he is slaughtering, and rescue their siblings.

Peter Pevensie

Peter Pevensie has spent his whole life protecting his three siblings since the death of their parents. After being sent to the Telmarine Castle, he is adamant that he and Susan must escape, and return to Lucy and Edmund. However, the longer he spends at Court, the more tied up he becomes in the life of Prince Caspian—and as Peter learns more and more about the Telmarine royal family, he realises how easily they could be taken down from the inside, with the help of traitorous members of the Telmarine Court.

Susan Pevensie

Susan Pevensie has never wanted to leave her home, content to life an easy life with her family and friends. However, after arriving at Court and being promoted to a Lady-in-Waiting to Queen Prunaprismia, Susan realises that life in the castle is far better than life in the Woods. Longing for a world where her and her family could live life at Court, Susan is torn by her principles and her desire for peace.

Lucy Pevensie

At only fifteen years old, Lucy Pevensie knows far more than she lets on. She has been practicing dagger-throwing since she was a child, and has many Narnian friends willing to follow her into danger. Although often underestimated, Lucy helps to create a plan to take down King Miraz, and in the process, manages to find a connection with Aslan, whom many did not believe existed. Lucy holds all the cards in a dangerous game of life and death, flying under the radar all the while.

Edmund Pevensie

Desperate to be a leader, Edmund Pevensie is at the head of the rebellion which begins in the Woods. He fights with an insecurity that his older siblings might prefer life at Court to a life with them, and falls deeper into this inner pain as he is unable to see them or contact them. Despite his feelings, he promises Lucy he will rally the troops, save their siblings and the Old Narnians, but cannot help his own desire for power taking over.

Prince Caspian

Prince Caspian has spent a life hidden away from Court, his voice restricted by his jealous uncle, who is terrified that an uprising will occur if their people learn to love Caspian, the rightful heir to the throne. But when Peter Pevensie comes to the Castle, he teaches Caspian how to break the rules, attempting to use Caspian for his own ends.

This fic currently has the first chapter out on AO3, and I will be updating it every Sunday! Here's the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61990618/chapters/158523481

[digiflora]

🧩 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

STARRING. ノ geto ✦ gojo ✦ choso

summary. ノ as a princess, you need a knight to keep both your body and heart safe from harm. luckily, he's got that covered.

word count. ノ 6.6k

contains. ノ royalty!au, princess!reader x knight, some suggestive content but nothing explicit, fem coded reader bc princess

gia's notes. ノ this draft has been sitting at the VERY bottom of my notes but i've finally dug it up and blown the dust off of it hehe. i have more ideas for this premise so if anyone asks i'll do a part two. eagerly.

GETO SUGURU ⌇ despite his politeness, there's more to him that lies below the surface

when you first met geto suguru, the most prominent thought in your mind was just how surprisingly pretty he was to be a mere knight. his delicate features and unblemished face seemed more fitting to be that of a nobleman's, and when he kneeled to you to swear his loyalty, his every movement was dictated with a gracefulness that suggested he was born royal.

always smiling, always alert, always vigilant, geto now accompanied you in your daily life like a second shadow. and while there had been... admittedly few attempts on your life, you chalked that up to his talent rather than a lack of conspiracy.

you had asked him one night when you had sneaked too much drink during a feast and you were too loose-lipped on your way back to your chambers, why his face was so handsome if he was just a knight.

he had merely laughed at your drunken question, readjusting his grip on you as he half-carried, half-guided you back.

"i'm handsome because nobody's been able to lay a finger on me."

you were quite fond of him, beyond his ability to keep you safe. you may be naive but you weren't stupid- you knew how others looked at the pair of you, how scandalous it was for the princess and her handsome knight to be so close with each other, in public at that.

it was incredibly apparent at balls and other royal events- ever so cumbersome, but still a requirement- that you always made sure to drag geto along to, no matter the security detail. and if you had personally ensured that he wears clothing befitting of a royal, and more importantly matched your gown every time, who wouldn't jump to conclusions?

in all honesty, you liked the attention it drew to the pair of you. you revelled in the glances shot your way, zeroed in on your hand looped around his arm or the way his encircled your waist, looking more like a courtier than a bodyguard.

you liked how the other women of the court looked at you with not just disgust, but with jealousy, because you knew that they certainly knew that geto suguru is a very handsome man. and no matter how much they stare, the fact that he was firmly attached to you would never change.

and if they hated you, let them come. geto would keep you safe, anyway.

whilst you were more than happy to live life as you were (the same as always with no real responsibility), the world continued its course, and you found yourself being suddenly thrust into something that you never imagined would happen this soon- a removal of your freedom.

that wasn't its official title, of course. a marriage proposal is what it had been presented to you as. to some poncey prince from a neighbouring kingdom in the name of keeping peace and good relations with neighbours- it was enough to make you feel sick.

you remembered ranting about it to geto that night in your bedchambers- yes, he was in them whether it was permissible or not- him merely chuckling at your rage while leaning against one of the walls, watching as you paced the room, waving your arms fervently to accentuate your frustration.

"relax, your highness. you'll still have me, after all." his words have an effect on you, admittedly, and it's comforting to find some constancy in him.

on nights where you let your imagination take over, it's quite easy to imagine him as a prince, one who courts you and you fall for and eventually marry- a mere fantasy to escape from this world.

despite your wishes, despite the rumours, the royal engagement continues. you haven't even met your fiancé, yet the marriage is due to happen this spring- symbolising the fresh beginnings of this joyous union.

geto had been gracious enough to accompany you on your newly-developed habit of taking long walks around the castle in favour of sleeping. you might as well memorise every nook and cranny before you'd be forced out of here- kicking and screaming, no doubt.

despite geto's best efforts, the joy you once found from life in the castle was quickly draining, merely fluff to pad the days leading up to the inevitable date.

an arrangement to meet this prince in person was very quickly procured out of nowhere- you couldn't remember his name for the life of you- and you found yourself going through the motions of being even more dolled up for a special ball with little to no enthusiasm. there was once a time where you would be bursting with delight at the beauty looking back at you in the mirror, though now it felt like you were being trussed up in the same sense the cooks were preparing the roasted animals on golden platters for everyone to feast on.

you were just meant to look as appetising as possible. you felt like a prize cow. anything in the name of peace.

you heard someone clear their throat from behind you- your eyes flicked up to your mirror to see geto stood behind you, his gaze particularly soft. you smiled at his outfit, equally exquisite in its brocade and material as yours. a perfect pair.

"i know i say this every time i see you, but you look especially radiant tonight, your highness." and just like that, you're glad to be so dressed up.

"thank you, sir geto." his lips twitch at the official title, but he extends his arm out for you to take nonetheless. "you look very handsome yourself." his cheeks go a shade darker, barely noticeable. you see it, though.

"how could i manage without you?"

the ballroom was decorated even more lavishly in commemoration of tonight- a decadent gold being the setting for this glorious occasion. you hoped that the prince would live up to the grandeur. or at the very least, not be completely hideous to look at. he'd never look as good as geto.

there were a lot of formal introductions. you always had hated curtsying, but the practice you were forced to endure paid off- you were nothing less than perfectly gracious as you met the officials of the neighbouring kingdom, and then, finally, the prince. he winked at you before kissing your hand and asking you to dance. you would rather dance with someone else.

at least the prince wasn't ugly. with the way he looked at you, though, you had to try not to let your nose wrinkle in disgust as you read the lechery in his eyes. was this really who you would be bound to 'til death do you part?

he stank of wine as the two of you danced. you were surprised that he wasn't toppling over, with the way that his words were already slurring. you tried your best to smile and nod along, though you couldn't help your eyes from wandering over his shoulder, settling on the figure of geto stood on the edge of the dancefloor.

you longed for him to be the one before you, and judging by the look on his face, it's what he would have wanted too. even jealousy looked good on him, his narrowed eyes and set jaw infinitely more handsome than the prince's leering one that you barely avoided as he lurched towards you, a little too close for this courtly dance.

geto jerked forwards at this, hands automatically settling on his sword. his eyes met yours, a silent plea to let it go exchanged before he begrudgingly relinquished his defensive stance. his little action still sent a thrill running through you nonetheless, something to cling to as an affirmation that he cared in more than a professional sense.

you let your thoughts wander as you danced, and you didn't do much to try and reel them back in. would it really be so bad to become wedded to a knight? it was unheard of, but there was a first time for everything, you supposed. you wouldn't mind no longer being a princess, as long as you were with him.

that realisation snapped you back to reality, just as the ending notes of the song played. your mandatory dance was over, and you curtsied to the prince before excusing yourself, weaving your way through the crowd of nobles until you reached the outskirts of the ballroom. your whole world felt like it had been tipped on its axis with this revelation, and even then you couldn't help but seek him out.

it was like an invisible force drew you together as you all but crashed into geto, him steadying you and immediately taking in the no doubt frenzied look in your eyes.

"are you alright, your highness?"

"i'm alright, just need to get some air."

geto nods dutifully, keeping hold of one of your arms as he navigates the crowd, slipping the both of you out of a side exit, the noise of the ballroom immediately drowning out as the door shut behind you.

"is that better, your highness?" your heart warmed at the genuine concern written over his face, and you nodded gratefully.

"much better."

the pair of you walk in silence for a few minutes, retracing the same routes of the castle that you had both become so accustomed to recently. it was comfortable to be with him, no matter the occasion.

"you know, i wish i could dance with you." it wasn't quite a confession, but it would do for now. geto paused for a second, and you saw him turn to look at you in the corner of your eye.

"there may be no music playing right now, but it would be an honour to have this dance, your highness." he bows down low, a mockery of etiquette, and you giggle before slipping your hand into his outstretched one. he's smiling as he straightens back up, his other hand curling around your waist with a gracefulness that would put the entire royal court to shame.

the dimly lit corridors became your private ballroom, and geto led you down them nimbly. another giddy laugh escaped you as he raised his arm, letting you twirl freely before bringing you close to him again.

it's a back and forth that you enjoy being led through, wondering to yourself just where he learnt to dance like this but not finding the heart to complain about it. it was a sweet moment amidst the growing realisation that this would most likely be ripped from you as you are forced to move to a different kingdom, away from everything that you've ever known. well, almost everything.

one particular turn has you stumbling ever so slightly, the questionable gap left between you and geto fully closing as your head collides with his chest. his arms instinctively protect you, effectively encasing you against him, leaving you to merely stare up at his face with a dumbfounded look on your face.

"your highness?"

he looked so much more handsome up close, and the torchlight cast shadows that only accentuated his features. you could count his eyelashes from here, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest against your own as you both leaned in ever so slightly- just a few more inches and your faces would be-

a noise from the end of the hallway distracts you, and your focus slips from the man before you to whatever lay behind him

you're horrified by what you see before you. it's that very prince, your fiancé, nestled in one of the darker corners castle, and he wasn't alone. your brain took a little longer to comprehend what was happening, but with the way the woman he was with was pressed up against the wall, caged in by his arms, and the little moans that echoed against the stony walls, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"let's go." you sounded so robotic, a ringing in your ears making your voice sound a thousand miles away as you began to retrace your steps, taking you further away from the transgression you just saw. you were vaguely aware of geto talking to you, but your thoughts were too overpowering to properly process anything other than the rising tide of emotion quickly consuming you.

you could barely turn the next corner before you felt yourself start to break down, tears that you fought so hard to contain tracking down your face. even with your back to him, geto read you like a book, placing a hand on your shoulder in some sort of attempt to comfort you.

you took it as an invitation to turn around, burying your face in his chest and letting yourself properly cry as his arms wrapped around you, one rubbing circles on your back and the other petting your hair.

"i wish you were a prince, geto," you sobbed into his tunic. your knight merely chuckled, continuing to stroke your hair as he let you stain the expensive clothing with your tears.

"i do too, your highness." his tone is light, but you still detect the underlying sincerity. it doesn't do much to stop your tears, though, until you feel one of his hands cup your face. these hold more evidence of him being a knight, with rough callouses marring his otherwise flawless hands. his fingers brush back the strands of hair that have come loose from your elegant updo, lingering a moment too long.

"besides, why cry, your highness? you and i both know that your heart does not belong to him." his hand's still on your face, fingers now hooking underneath your chin, raising your gaze to meet his. his smile's coy, and you both can read between the lines of what he's saying. it had been rather obvious for a while now.

that your heart lay a lot closer to home. that maybe the rumours were right.

"you'll always have me."

GOJO SATORU ⌇ he's two whole years younger than you

officially, the title of royal knight carries a certain air of poise, of authority and grace that forces your spine a little straighter whenever you cross paths with them. but never did you think that this man would be the one entrusted with your life and safety in general.

you were more mature than him, and that's saying something. and despite his insistence on being one of the strongest, in your eyes he certainly didn't act like it. but if he was appointed as your personal bodyguard, then that must mean that he did something worthy enough to fulfil the role, right?

despite your slight doubts, you didn't actually have anything against him. on the contrary, you rather enjoyed his presence. he wasn't afraid to make himself known, and you much preferred the thought of him as an animate person than some silent looming shadow that mirrored your every step.

besides, he wasn't half bad to look at.

you especially liked it when he was in the mood to humour you and your questions, opening up a little about his life before becoming a knight- of the small village he used to live in, the beauty of life beyond the castle walls, and his stories intrigued you, invoking a childlike wonder that hadn't been piqued in years.

satoru had told you of one particular festival- a lantern ceremony to celebrate a bountiful autumn's harvest. it was one you had heard of, had seen always from a distance, the faint lights of hundreds of paper lanterns floating into the sky mere pinpricks that blend into the stars from your vantage point of the castle window.

he has a knack for storytelling, too- for better or worse. he spins gold with his tongue, painting a picture so lovely and vibrant that you are compelled to see it in person- whether it is as wondrous as the knight claims it to be.

and gojo has always been up for a challenge.

"satoru."

"princess y/n." he's amused, already knowing what your proposition will be before you utter another word.

"how good are you at keeping me safe?"

"incredibly, why?"

"i'd like you to take me to see this festival in person."

he had to decline at first- he had a duty to fulfil, after all- but you demand, you implore, you even beg in order to get him on board.

he was willing to do so the very first time you mention it, the gleam in his eye giving his true intentions away, but he plays along, getting a kick out of the desperation in your voice. you whine about how you are the princess and it's his job to do what you ask- and he laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat with an obliging "as you wish, your highness."

and thus begins your daring expedition to sneak out of the castle and back in completely undetected.

it's an operation carried out under the guise of night, the pair of you in cloaks and dressed inconspicuously. it's a simple plan, too. the gardens below your bedchamber's window is not a commonly patrolled area, and it's laughably easy for gojo to slip out of the window first and jump down the few metres until he lands on grass. he lands like it's nothing, smiling back up at you and motioning for you to join him.

it's a leap of faith, the crossing of a boundary as you swing your leg over the windowsill, feeling the fear kick in as you see just how high up you are. but you see gojo, too, his bright hair and eyes looking up at you encouragingly, and you swallow that fear.

"i'll catch you," he promises.

and he does. it's a soft landing, all things considered, as you land in his arms that are deceptively solid beneath you. you yelp as you fall- it couldn't be helped- but it's short-lived as you find yourself face to face with satoru.

he seems as equally stunned as you at the proximity of your faces, but the moment passes quickly for him, his signature practised grin coming back on to his face as he gently touches your feet to the ground.

"good to go, princess?" you nod, still reeling. he offers you an arm, half-joking, and you take it with a pleased smile.

gojo knows the castle grounds like the back of his hand- leading you to a concealed door in the outer wall, slipping through it like a shadow with you in tow. it wasn't until now that you saw him in his element, not sitting around like a lazy cat like he so often did in your presence.

he's more alert, alive, lithe body moving with purpose. it's nice to see him like this, without all of the bulky armour and constraints of the castle walls. the tension leaves him, his gait changing, and you feel the adrenaline course through your veins as the two of you officially make it outside of the castle.

you try to memorise every step you take, the way the ground feels against your shoes, the feeling of the breeze rushing unfiltered against your face. it's surreal, this taste of freedom, and you feel the urge to laugh like a maniac.

your hand slips from its grasp of gojo's bicep, letting you drift away from your knight in favour of pausing to squat down and inspect the brightly coloured flowers that grew on the path.

it was a mere tulip- nothing that you had ever seen before, the castle favouring more exotic species to showcase than some simple thing that you could pluck from the ground. but it was beautiful, all the same.

you felt gojo pause, letting you have your moment uninterrupted before you stand, beaming up at him.

"the outside world is very beautiful."

"indeed it is, princess. just wait until you see the lanterns up close."

it wasn't too far to reach his hometown, so he said. it was a comfortable walk, the terrain not too demanding. and finally, with the last stretch of land, you saw it.

"oh, wow."

if anything, satoru didn't do it justice in his stories. there's another element that you had never anticipated, of the music coursing throughout the town, breathing life into the people. everything was so much more colourful, more beautiful up close.

the closer you approach it, the more it comes into focus, and you don't try to hide your awe as you take in the surroundings. you don't turn your head to see the way your knight is smiling down at you, a soft look in his eyes.

and while it may make his job a pain sometimes, satoru's thankful that you're so oblivious to his surroundings and the ways he pines after you gone unnoticed. he had never exposed this part of himself before, the small nostalgic part of him that treasured unblemished memories of his childhood, now walking arm in arm with a princess and pointing out each little nook and cranny that he used to play in.

the pair of you finally make it to the inner part of the festivities, where there are countless stalls set up with all kinds of goods being sold. satoru stands back, letting you pour over each individual item, oohing and aahing as the vendors explain what they are.

you do this for... quite some time, until you settle upon a small jewellery stand. it was nothing like you had ever seen worn by nobles, fashioned out of colourful stones and leather cord instead of the gold and silver inlaid with precious gems. it intrigued you, the beautiful polished stone somehow being the most elegant thing you had ever laid eyes upon. and like a bloodhound, the lady running the stall sidled up to you and satoru.

"and for the beautiful couple, what can i interest you in?"

"oh, we-" you laugh, all pitchy as you get flustered, but satoru takes this in stride, simply wrapping his waist around you and pulling you closer together. he always had been one to toe the line.

"i think that my darling here had her eye on that necklace." he nods towards the very one that had caught your attention, you glancing at him in surprise, unaware that he even noticed such details. he merely winked in return as the lady beamed, taking it off its hook and holding it out to you.

"a fine choice, indeed! the rose quartz is said to bring luck to you in all romantic endeavours." you blush as you accept the necklace, satoru paying for it before you could get a single word in. he waved off any protests, merely taking the necklace from your hands before lifting it to fit around your neck.

his fingers brush against the soft skin at your nape, a little shiver rippling from it as he moved your hair onto one of your shoulders, out of the way of the cord.

"it looks beautiful on you." you try not to read into the sincerity emanating from his gaze, bowing your head graciously from the compliment before looping an arm around his, letting satoru guide you through the rest of the village.

you ended up in the main square, watching as some officials released the lanterns, how each one floated upwards until they became pinpricks in the sky. your gaze drifted towards the castle looming, and you felt some heaviness return to your heart.

the night had to come to an end, after all.

satoru sensed your shift in mood, offering a sympathetic smile before the pair of you trudged back, retracing your steps to return to your chambers without getting caught.

for a few minutes, before you properly laid down to rest, you caught yourself toying with the necklace, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face as you thought of the magical night with satoru, and his unseen side.

and as you woke up the next morning, the events of the past few hours were hard to see as more than a dream. but as you rise, you gaze at your reflection in the vanity next to your bed again, and you see the cord of the necklace still peeking out past the neckline of your nightgown.

there's a knock on your door, too, and you see your knight's face peek from around the corner.

"good morning, satoru."

"good morning, princess. did you sleep well?" there's a practised formality in his tone, but you don't miss his expression, the smile that threatens to slip onto his face.

it'll be a secret between just the two of you.

CHOSO KAMO ⌇ there wasn't a single doubt in your mind that this man wouldn't put his life on the line for you

however, it wasn't so certain from the start. when you were first introduced to choso, he was polite. he looked you in the eyes, kneeled to you, pledged his allegiance, but what struck you most was the anger that his gaze met you with.

it was like being scalded, making you shrink back from the sheer intensity. you couldn't get a read off of him apart from that cool anger, one that you weren't even sure was directed at you or not.

it was only through gossip overheard by the maidservants that you learnt of his prospects before being appointed as your bodyguard.

the most promising of his rank, on course to become the youngest commander in the military in the past century. he would have been set for life, the salary enough to support his entire family- yet he's now responsible for babysitting a spoilt princess.

it's what they had said, after all.

and the more you thought about it, the more awful you felt. you understand now why he looked at you like that, that pointed gaze with all its burning intensity. why he looked like he would rather be anywhere else within the castle than at your side.

it's improper to assume responsibility for anything as a member of the royal family, but you do so anyway and apologise to him one night- borderline tearful, your emotions besting you as you finally cave in and tell him about how you think he hates you.

and he stops you mid-sentence, confusion written across all of his features.

"milady... i'm afraid you've got it all wrong."

it was an awkward conversation, to say the least. you had never really been exposed to someone like him before- to have such a rigid sense of duty and seriousness that it translated as hatred was unheard of, even for the castle.

and despite this revelation, choso's stiff upper lip did not waver. his intertwined sense of duty was a tricky thing to peel away from him.

but it's a task that you were willing to commit to. you'd be spending a lot more time with him, after all, and you'd much rather get to know choso as a person if that was the case.

and so began your futile efforts of breaking down choso's barriers. you felt like a petulant child, always asking him questions that he would either blank or answer with an occasional grunt.

you were glad that news travels fast within the castle- any gossip about the princess' handsome new knight was a snippet of information that you hung onto eagerly.

it appears that you weren't alone in harbouring an interest in the young knight- if the excited chattering of maidservants and the way that they squealed over every interaction with him was any indicator.

for some reason, hearing them gush over the way his muscles looked when he was practising swordfighting in the barracks, or how strong he was when he helped carry in heavy sacks of grain rubbed you the wrong way. it lit a fire underneath you that made you all the more eager to get to know him well and truly before anybody else did.

you seemed to have struck gold about sir choso when you overheard one maidservant admit to having grown up in the same village as him- how she remembered that his family used to own a horse that him and his brothers loved more than anything else when growing up.

amidst the oohs and aahs of this revelation, a plan started to hatch in your mind. one that came into fruition the very next day as choso accompanied you on your morning walk around the royal gardens.

"say, choso, have you ever ridden a horse before?"

out of all of the questions and hints about him that you've posed, you've never seen such a reaction from him before. he starts, and out of the corner of your eye you see him almost puff up with excitement, and your ears strain, eager to hear what he has to say before you see him school his features once again, and the moment is bitterly over.

"it was part of my training to become a knight, milady. why do you ask?"

it was no matter if he didn't want to open up yet, you can be patient. and spend a little longer playing dumb about just how much you know about him.

"well, i was thinking of doing something slightly different today." he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "i wanted to go horse-riding." he pauses for a good few seconds, ever so stoic, before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"as you wish, milady."

you clap your hands togeher excitedly, beaming up at him.

"perfect!"

you set off in the direction of the stables, your knight following closely behind you, and dare you say with a slightest improvement in the upbeat of his gait. despite all of his professionalism, he still had his tells.

the smell of fresh hay and the less pleasant odour of manure reaches your nostrils before you can properly see the horses, but you let your nose wrinkle in displeasure and resolutely keep marching onwards to the stable entrance. you had a purpose to fulfil by being here, after all.

now, as a princess, it was imperative that you had acquired several different skills as part of your royal upbringing. how to eat properly, how to speak properly, act properly, including when riding a horse.

but, try as you might, you just couldn't quite manage to get a proper grasp on that last part. but, if it meant getting to know choso, you'd simply grin and bear it and hope to god that it didn't buck you off directly into a patch of mud.

the horses can smell your fear, you had been told as a child. even the stubbiest pony accustomed to your eight-year-old self's stature still towered above you, nostrils flared and rubbery lips dripping with saliva, making you hide behind the legs of your tutors as you cowered away from such a ferocious beast.

such childlike fears seemed to resurface now, as the snort of a nearby horse makes you twitch, visibly enough that it doesn't go unnoticed.

"are you alright, milady?" he's eyeing you sideways now, having caught up with your stride with his much longer one. you wonder just how eager he must be to ride a horse that it would warrant him breaking his usual pattern of tracing your footsteps and now meeting them with his own as the pair of you walk.

the thought brings a pang of guilt to accompany it, so you plaster on a smile and nod at him brightly.

"of course i am! it just caught me off guard, is all. not to worry, i'll have two horses be arranged for us."

you look at the nearest stable hand expectantly, and the young boy seems to comprehend your message as he dashes off to affix saddles and leashes to two fine stallions, befitting of royalty, to ride. you don't miss the doubtful look choso still gives you out of the corner of your eye.

it's better than focusing on the huffs and snorts of the beast before you as it's brought forwards, close enough for its putrid breath to curl in warm tendrils against your face. you feel your skin shrivel at the sensation.

but being a princess means putting on a brave face, and to never crumble in the face of adversity.

you march over to see the stirrup, level with your chest, inviting you to step up and onto the horse's back. it's funny, all these years later you would have dwarfed that little pony, so now they've brought an even larger horse to maintain order.

you can feel your heart hammering in your chest as you approach it, and you think that the horse can feel it too, because it snorts, twisting its head, the stable hand sounding panicked as the rope is prised from his grasp by the powerful strain from the stallion.

and then there's those painstaking moments, of the horse bucking and neighing, free now, and you really regret not providing more foresight into this plan.

how exactly will you get to know choso more if you've been trampled to death before he opens his mouth again?

you think this is the end of your short and silly life, if not for the hand that shoots out, grabbing the reins, another smoothing over the horse's snout. you watch in awe as your knight, your personal bodyguard, does just that and saves you from what would have been an imminent and painful death.

and like some horse whisperer, the stallion was now rendered meek and docile, following where it was led as choso turned to you, expression impassive as always.

"are you scared of horses milady?"

how foolish of you to think you wouldn't be all these years later. there's no use lying, and you dejectedly nod at his question. a beat of silence, before confusion graces his features.

"then why decide to go riding today?"

"because i heard that you like horses..."

it sounds so truly pathetic coming out of your mouth, but your heart still skips a beat as you see an entirely new expression on his face. a smile, one that he bites back as he looks off to the side, shaking his head in disbelief.

and then he looks back at you, really looks at you, with that coldness in his eyes parting like clouds to give way to something softer, warmer.

"allow me to help you then, your highness."

you give him a shy little nod at his proposition, and choso turns to the tearfully apologetic stable hand, signalling to him to return the other horse. you're confused as he approaches you, horse in tow, and you eye the animal with suspicion as it meets you face to face.

"the first thing about any animal is to establish a connection with it, milady." choso speaks so softly, voice barely above a whisper, and you watch in amazement as the horse's ears prick up, as if hanging on every word that he says alongside yourself.

"you've got to talk to it, introduce yourself." he motions for you to try, and your eyes flick back to the horse.

"hello, horse," you whisper to it. you feel like an idiot, but choso's nod of encouragement and second rare smile convince you to keep going. "it's nice to meet you."

it seems to have turned its attention towards you now, its nose snuffling at you, and you rear back a little.

"it's okay, milady, he just wants to smell you."

you look at choso again, expression doubtful, and he holds his hand outstretched, prompting you to place your palm in his.

he's warm, deliciously so, a decisive strength resting behind each finger as he guides your dainty hand towards the maw of the beast. its nostrils flare, snuffling against your hand, and you giggle girlishly at the odd sensation. choso's smiling now, no charade as he lets his joy shine through, matching yours.

"see? he likes you, your highness."

the pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, tentatively stroking the horse, until you feel comfortable enough to suggest riding them. choso nods, a flicker of responsibilty taking over his expressions as he guides you towards the saddle.

you're uncertain all over again, for different reasons now, as the distance required to get your foot in the stirrup seemed a little too high to achieve. and then choso's behind you, a hushed "may i?" whispered into your ear as his fingers curl at your waist.

you're flustered now, nodding all the same, gasping at how easily he lifts you until your feet dangle adjacent to the sturrup, and you let yourself slip a foot into it and swing the rest of yourself up and over to be seated on the horse.

you peer down at choso, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his head was directly next to your lap. it was absurd- you were the one riding atop a horse as he remained on the ground, you were the one of royal descent- yet in this very moment you were entirely at his mercy.

you clear your throat, nodding to him.

"if there aren't any more horses, how are you going to ride one?" and now he smirks at you, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"well, if you're so scared of horses, i thought that i'd continue to help you get over that fear."

the penny doesn't drop until he places his foot in the very same stirrup that you had used to hoist yourself up, doing the same in an admittedly much more fluid motion, and positing himself flush against your back.

if it weren't for the light armour he wore, you were certain that he would be able to feel the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

you look down to your lap, watching as his arms reach forwards, practically embracing you, before his hands take a willful grip of the leather reins.

"how does that sound, milady?" he's practically purring into your ear, and he must know the effect he's having on you, if not before then definitely now as you sharply inhale, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the slight sensation of his breath.

you don't even trust yourself to speak eloquently without making a fool of yourself, so you nod instead. the message is not lost on choso, and he chuckles right into your ear before starting to guide the horse as easily as breathing.

the animal lurched forwards, and your hands shot out, instinctively latching onto the nearest solid thing. whether they were your knight's hands or not wasn't important. but choso took this in stride, guiding your hands to take hold of the reins, and then encapsulating them with his own.

it sent a little thrill jolting through your spine, especially as he shuffles even closer to you, just to make sure that he could see properly.

your plan was working brilliantly after all.

and for all the trouble it took to situate yourself on the horse, your initial fears melted away in the presence of choso, as he spurred the horse to start a slow walk out of the stables, and onto the vast grounds surrounding the palace.

and as you gaze back to catch a glimpse of your knight, catching the way he smiles down at you so freely, faces a breadth apart, you realise that your fates are well and truly intertwined together.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... there's no release, i feel you in my dreams

(i don't have any other jjk fics FOR NOW ㅜㅡㅜ) best friend!aventurine x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my jjk masterlist here!

[llamagoddessofficial]

time works so strangely in the fae realms........... sometime during your relationship with Nightmare you step through a fairy circle and-- you're in the mortal realm. many centuries before you were ever born. and there's Nightmare... a younger, more volatile Nightmare. and he doesn't know who you are....

There's a legend, at the Winter court. One that's old to the oldest courtiers. A legend that once, a thousand years ago, the famously solitary Nightmare did have lovers. Just as many as his brother, in fact. Until... he just didn't anymore.

Nightmare wasn't always the collected, magnetic King he is today. Long ago, he was a monster, a tyrant drunk on rage and greed - the tales of the rivers of blood he spilled are found in scrolls and tapestries alike. Flickers of his capacity for cruelty can still be witnessed, but they are nothing compared to the bonfires of old. Nightmare was vile thing that would take as he saw fit.

... Then suddenly, one day, he had someone by his side. Someone who knew his true name. They spoke in a strange manner, wearing strange clothes, knowing things that should not have been known. They talked to him in a way others would be killed for. For a single month, they were Nightmare's everything. Then they disappeared without a trace.

Nightmare wasn't the same after they vanished. The hot-blooded stallion had quietened. He went from a vicious maniac to a calm, reasonable King, who focused himself on improving the Winter realm. But he also lost something... a certain vibrancy he had before was gone. He never again took a lover.

... Most courtiers write that story off as an overly romantic retelling of Nightmare simply getting more mature over time, losing his lust for violence and settling into his position. It seemed preposterous that the man famous for treating flirtation like a personal insult would ever be the kind to change himself so drastically for a partner.

... But... you really do match the description of the mysterious newcomer in those legends.

Perhaps you remind Nightmare of that lost sweetheart. How romantic. It's nice to see the King finally happy, at least.

[dumb-ster-fire]

Azriel x fem!Reader - Between Shadow and Sunlight - Part 1

Azriel x fem!reader , Helion x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N has always danced around the tension with Azriel—but how much longer can he deny it? When Helion pulls her into his arms at a Day Court ball, Azriel tells himself it doesn’t matter. But as he watches her laugh, watches Helion’s hands linger, jealousy coils tight. Shadows stir, and for the first time, Y/N wonders if Azriel will finally stop running from what’s always been there between them.

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helion watches Y/N with open fascination, a slow smirk curving his lips as they move together across the dance floor. He had expected her to be intriguing—after all, anyone who kept company with the Night Court’s infamous inner circle had to be remarkable in some way—but this… This was beyond what he had imagined.

She moves like she was born for this, like she’s always known the rhythm of power and seduction, her steps fluid, deliberate, exuding an effortless confidence that most could only dream of. There is fire beneath her cool exterior, a carefully restrained power, and Helion—lover of knowledge, of untold secrets—wants to unravel her, to see what lies beneath that wicked smirk and knowing gaze.

His thumb brushes the back of her hand as he twirls her, and he notices the way her eyes glint—sharp, amused, like she knows exactly what game he’s playing and has already decided whether or not to indulge him. Smart girl.

“The Inner Circle has been keeping secrets, I see,” he murmurs, his deep voice rich with amusement. “No one told me the Night Court had such a hidden gem.”

Y/N tilts her head, an almost lazy smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe they didn’t think you were worthy of knowing.”

Helion chuckles, utterly delighted. Oh, she is sharp. His eyes gleam with intrigue. “Then I should count myself lucky to be standing here now. And luckier still that you haven’t yet decided to put me in my place.”

Y/N hums as they turn across the floor, her silvery gown catching the light like liquid moonlight. “Oh, I’m still deciding.”

Helion throws his head back and laughs, the sound deep and unabashed. She is a storm wrapped in silk, a force as deadly as it is mesmerizing, and Helion—who has danced with queens and whispered to goddesses—feels something rare stir in his chest. Not possession, not conquest, but pure, unfiltered appreciation.

He had met many powerful women, had adored and worshiped them as they deserved, but there was something different about this one. Not just power—no, power was easy to find. It was the way she carried it. The way she wielded it with no need to prove herself, no need to demand attention, because she simply was.

Helion’s golden eyes flicker toward the Night Court’s table, where shadows curl and shift around a familiar figure watching them intently.

Ah.

A knowing smile ghosts across Helion’s lips. So, the shadowsinger watches. He had wondered what kind of claim, if any, Azriel had on this female. The unreadable spymaster, who gave away nothing, is not unreadable now.

Fascinating.

Helion leans in slightly, his breath warm against YN’s ear as he murmurs, “Tell me, starlight—do the shadows know how close you dance with the sun?”

Y/N laughs softly, not missing the way he angles his body, deliberate in his teasing. But she is no blushing courtier, no wilting flower wilting under golden heat. She meets his gaze with that same knowing smirk. “The shadows are always watching,” she muses, voice silken. “But the sun should be careful… Linger too close, and it might find itself eclipsed.”

Helion grins, utterly enthralled. Oh, this one is dangerous. And gods, if he doesn’t love it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the dance nears its end, Helion twirls Y/N one last time before pulling her back to him with a practiced ease, their movements seamless, almost as if they had done this a hundred times before. The music slows, and for a brief moment, the world seems to quiet around them, leaving only the golden warmth of the Day Court High Lord and the cool, sharp brilliance of the High Fae before him.

Helion studies her with open admiration, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand before he finally releases her. “A rare delight, indeed,” he murmurs, offering her a dazzling smile. “Perhaps, next time, you’ll allow me more than just one dance.”

Y/N arches a brow, tilting her head as if considering his words. Then, with an infuriatingly slow smirk, she leans in just enough that he catches the intoxicating scent of dark cherries and lilac. “Perhaps,” she echoes, voice like velvet and shadow. “If you can keep up.”

Helion laughs, the sound deep and rich, utterly delighted. “Oh, starlight, I do love a challenge.”

With a final glance—one that is equal parts intrigue and mischief—Y/N steps back, turning on her heel with effortless grace, leaving Helion watching after her with something almost akin to reverence.

He is still smirking as he makes his way back to his table, golden eyes flickering toward the Night Court’s usual corner of the ballroom. Cassian and Mor are murmuring amongst themselves, Feyre and Rhys are watching Y/N with quiet amusement, and Azriel—ah, Azriel—is still seated, his fingers lightly gripping the stem of his untouched wine glass.

Helion catches the spymaster’s stare, unreadable and dark, shadows curling protectively at his shoulders. A lesser male might have been intimidated by such an expression. But Helion is anything but lesser.

So he smirks. Raises his glass ever so slightly in a silent toast.

And Azriel… does nothing. He doesn’t react, doesn’t shift, doesn’t move a single muscle. But the shadows? They do. They curl tighter, darker, whispering things Helion cannot hear.

Oh, Helion muses as he takes a slow sip of wine. This is going to be very interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment Y/N steps away from Helion, the Inner Circle erupts into hushed murmurs.

Cassian is the first to break the silence, his arms crossed over his chest as he grins. “Well, well, well. Y/N really knows how to make an entrance and an impression.”

Mor snorts, taking a sip of her wine. “Did you see his face? I don’t think Helion has been that enchanted in centuries.”

Feyre hums in agreement, her lips twitching. “It’s not often someone manages to leave him wanting more.”

Rhysand, ever the picture of cool amusement, merely watches Y/N from across the ballroom, swirling his wine lazily in his glass. “Helion’s intrigued,” he muses, his violet eyes gleaming with something knowing. “Not that I blame him. Our Y/N is… something else.”

Nesta, seated beside Cassian, raises an elegant brow. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

Amren chuckles, sharp and knowing. “It isn’t. But it is entertaining.”

Elain, ever observant, glances at Azriel, who has been uncharacteristically quiet. His posture remains relaxed, but she doesn’t miss the way his grip tightens ever so slightly around the stem of his glass, his shadows coiling restlessly at his shoulders.

Mor notices too, her golden-brown eyes flicking to him. “Az, you alright there?”

Azriel doesn’t look away from Y/N. Doesn’t even blink. “Fine.”

Cassian smirks, nudging his friend’s arm. “You sure? You look like you want to shadow-walk over there and drag her away.”

Azriel finally tears his gaze away from Y/N and pins Cassian with a flat look. “If I wanted to do that, I would have already.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “So dramatic.”

Mor, never one to let an opportunity for mischief slip by, leans in toward Azriel with a wicked grin. “You could just ask her for the next dance, you know.”

Azriel doesn’t respond, merely tilts his glass to his lips.

Rhys chuckles, clearly enjoying the entire situation far too much. “Ah, but then where’s the fun in that? I think our dear spymaster enjoys the slow burn.”

Y/N, unaware of the attention still on her, finally makes her way toward them, a victorious little smirk still playing on her lips. “Did you all have fun watching?”

Cassian lets out a bark of laughter. “You were practically putting on a show.”

Y/N shrugs, completely unbothered. “Helion’s entertaining.” Then, casually, “And a good dancer.”

Azriel, who had just taken another sip of wine, sets his glass down with a little more force than necessary.

Mor barely holds back a laugh. “Oh, this is fun.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N settles into an empty chair, crossing one leg over the other as she picks up a glass of wine from the table. She takes a slow sip, her smirk deepening as she feels the weight of everyone’s eyes on her—especially one pair in particular.

Cassian, ever the instigator, leans forward on his elbows. “So, how was it?”

Y/N swirls the wine in her glass, pretending to consider. “Mmm… smooth. Confident.” She grins. “He knows how to lead.”

Azriel doesn’t react outwardly, but Mor—who has been watching him like a hawk—catches the slightest twitch in his jaw.

Rhys lifts a brow, his amusement only growing. “And yet, here you are, sitting with us instead of twirling around the ballroom with Helion.”

Y/N shrugs one shoulder, her gaze flicking briefly—deliberately—to Azriel. “I prefer a more… challenging dance partner.”

Azriel, to his credit, meets her stare with an unreadable expression. His shadows, however, betray him—coiling subtly at his back, shifting like restless smoke.

Mor presses a hand to her mouth to hide her grin.

Nesta smirks into her drink. “I’d say you have your pick of dance partners, Y/N.”

Cassian nudges Azriel—not hard, just enough to be obnoxious. “Yeah, maybe someone here should take the hint.”

Azriel finally speaks, his voice smooth, unwavering. “Are you asking, Y/N?”

A challenge.

Y/N tilts her head, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Are you offering?”

The tension between them tightens like a drawn bowstring. A flicker of something dark and unreadable flashes through Azriel’s hazel eyes.

Rhys chuckles, shaking his head. “Careful, shadowsinger. She plays dangerous games.”

Azriel doesn’t look away from Y/N. “So do I.”

A slow, wicked smile spreads across Y/N’s lips. “Good.”

Cassian whistles low, leaning back in his chair. “Well, this just got interesting.”

Mor just grins. “Oh, it’s been interesting for a while.”

[lindyr]

How Elain feels about Lucien vs Azriel:

Lucien:

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain. She cringed away from the coat, from him-

Azriel:

Azriel knelt before her.. gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.”  Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. “Hold tight,” he ordered her, “and don’t make a sound.” Elain glanced between us, but did not tremble. Did not cringe.

Lucien: 

It was the most uncomfortable thirty minutes I could recall. Lucien and Elain sat in stilted silence. Elain had picked up the teacup, and now sipped from it without so much as looking toward him.

Azriel:

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise lounge across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister within it.

Lucien:

She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left.

Azriel: 

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, "Can you truly fly?" He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, "Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind. " "That’s very beautiful," she said. "Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?" "It is sometimes," Azriel said.

Lucien:

And whether she cared about the bruises on his face, she certainly hadn’t let on.

Azriel:

“It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” 

Lucien:

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, “You could come to Velaris.” “You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face. “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me.” “He brought you a present.” Those doe-brown eyes turned toward me. Sharper than I’d ever seen them. “And that entitles him to my time, my affections?”

Azriel: 

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. It was three by the time the others went to bed. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.

Lucien:

My sister rose to her feet. “I should get refreshments.” Lucien rose as well. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m- ” But she was already out of the room.

Azriel:

"I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave.  

Lucien:

Her brown eyes were wary. Usually, that look was reserved for Lucien.

Azriel:

She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open.

Lucien:

Though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself, no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.

Azriel:

He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” “It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" 

Elain's actions, words, and body language make it clear to me that Azriel is the one she has strong feelings for. Feelings that she simply can't hide.