#cecily wills

[listerbirdloml]

i have nothing original to say so here you go

[touloserrrr]

[vague-bisexual-crimes]

Listen I know why Cecily was trying to get him to stop but personally I think she should’ve let Lister at Dave, and on that note I think Rowan should’ve as well

[catboylister]

lister refers to cecily as mum, but the truth is she's never actually done anything motherly. yes she looks after all the business side of things but thats her job, shes usually always on her phone (because of her job.) but lister thinks because she older than him and is sometimes nice to him thats what most mums are like, because he barely has a relationship with his own mother and was hashtag neglected as a child.

anyway i have a fic abt lister and cecily almost finished but i keep re writing the ending and uhsghdsgh

Based on the Lister Game, Lister jokingly calls Cecily 'Mum' in his text to her and it was obviously a joke, and she scolds him to stop calling her that but like, I wonder if she kind of is the closest thing he has to one in the circumstances he finds himself? It's pretty clear he's got a very complicated relationship with his own mom. Cecily is of course under no obligation to take that on at all. But if there was a fic where she did take on a healthy maternal role towards him I'd read it just saying.

[wonder-worker]

"At least one of the sources of this account clearly felt that a queen's funeral should have been more splendid, regardless of the fact that she had retired from court and was not the mother of the king. However, there is no real evidence that the desire expressed in Elizabeth Woodville's will for a humble ceremony was not genuine. Despite her status she was still a prize for the religious house in which she was buried. In earlier centuries there had been bitter competition between houses for the bodies of men of such dubious reputation as Henry II's heir (the young king Henry) and King John. Had Elizabeth omitted the request for a humble burial, the clergy at Windsor would probably have permitted the heralds to organize the grander funeral they expected. The consequence of that stipulation was that, in stark contrast to her daughter's funeral, the mourners were all people who had actually known her. Elizabeth Woodville's status as a widow meant that she could choose a funeral which was a ritual for a woman, not a queen."

-J.L. Laynesmith, "The Last Medieval Queens: English Queenship 1445-1503"

[gulnarsultan]

can u write something about yan!king henry VIII being obsessed with reader and reader taking advantage of it (manipulates him and stuff and him very willing to do it)?? a longer fic pls 😫😫

》 Scenario《

A King's obsession. If you asked others, most would find this situation scary, frightening and dangerous. In a way, they were right. After all, if you didn't play your cards right, you risked losing your beautiful head. But you were a smart, ambitious and cunning young lady. You were really talented at seizing opportunities and strategy.

King Henry had met you at a ball and fell in love. He was married to Catherine of Argaon, but his marriage was unhappy. He couldn't have the male heirs he desired. And before the ball, his wife had had another miscarriage. Your conversation with the King soon resulted in you becoming the Royal Mistress. You had your own room in the palace, a bunch of maids of honor and servants working at your service. It wouldn't be a lie to say that you had everything you wanted.

You were using the King's obsession for your own benefit. And you weren't even bothered by it. After all, why would you run away from a blessing that was given to you? You had become pregnant in a short time. The King adored you during your pregnancy. You were pampered by the King and treated like a Queen. You did not hesitate to take advantage of all the opportunities provided to you. You had caused the King to completely distance himself from his wife in grief.

The best doctors and midwives were in the room during the birth. Contrary to tradition, Henry was by your side, holding your hand and supporting you. In no time, the room was filled with the cries of a healthy baby. Henry was shedding tears of joy. He did not hesitate to give his firstborn son Henry his own name. Moreover, he gave his son the surname Fitzroy. You were very proud to be given this surname. Following the birth of your firstborn son Henry Fritzroy, you had children named Edward, Richard, Elinor, William, Cecily and Grace. Unlike the daughter born to his first wife, the King was a good father to your daughters. Your children were treated like real Princes and Princesses. After a while, Henry legitimized your children. Your firstborn son was now officially the next in line to the throne of England.

[lelianasbong]

I think a lot about the fact that Leliana and Sera were young orphan girls from working class families who were adopted by human noblewomen... how Leliana took to that life like a fish to water and Sera rejected it wholesale: the material excess when others have nothing, having pride in something you didn't earn but were lucky enough to be born into. But Sera being an elf meant her life with Emmald was never going to be the same as Leliana's with Cecilie. The music and etiquette lessons that carried Leliana are harsh reminders of a life that didn't make room for someone like Sera.

They're both religious and their faith leads them to the same conclusion: no one should be excluded based on who they are and no one is without worth. They're rogues who love pranks and teasing their friends, they love ✨️ WOMEN ✨️ and are vocal about it, they're willing to sacrifice themselves and gut their enemies if it means protecting their people. They're steadfast friends and devoted lovers. Leliana learned her archery skills from Marjolaine - a nobleman's sport, a game to mirror The Game, 'I made you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily' - while Sera learned by the sweat of her brow, practicing until the arrow hit its mark more often than not and her arms no longer shook. There are no tutors in back alleys.

Leliana forswore her old ways for the ascetic life of a Chantry sister (before taking up arms to defeat the Blight); Sera inherited Emmald's fortune and gave it all away to orphaned children despite herself being hungry and homeless, because Sera is kind and because the knowledge of where that money came from was more painful than the joy of spending it.

[opreaadriann]

High School Revenge

High School Revenge is an interactive fiction game set in the scariest imaginable location: high school. In this game, you will get to play as a teenager that was betrayed by his best friends and classmates 7 years ago, and get to come back to their high school, with a completely different look, preparing your revenge on them, Count of Monte-Cristo style. You will get to live a full academic year alongside your 8 targets, as you befriend, betray, and even romance them to get what you want. Will you forgive them after learning of their reasons or will you go through with your sweet, sweet revenge? The current version of the demo is 102k words.

Demo

The game is still a work-in-progress, so any suggestions are appreciated! If you find any bugs or issues, make sure to mention them.

Other places where you can follow the project or support me:

X/Twitter COG Forum Patreon (+many words demo, I lost count) Discord

Features:

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Romance your 6 childhood bullies, your 2 childhood friends, or hidden allies.

Live the tragic childhood events that lead to the worst day of your life and decide how everything went down.

Almost all targets will have deep secrets that you’ll have to discover throughout the story and use against them.

Pretend to be a charismatic popular kid, a likeable klutz, a rebel that goes against the norm, or the edgy, silent type.

Lie, charm, spy, blackmail, everything is on the table to get your revenge. There is no “good” way to learn the targets’ secrets and there’s no perfect way to get the job done.

Your stats will almost never affect your capability to get revenge. All that will make a real difference will be your relationship with all the characters.

Spend a full academic year getting to know your targets, interacting with them through random events, relationship events, or hobby events, similar to a Persona game.

Romance Options:

Targets

Dylan Evans

The first friend the MC ever made, Dylan was once just a nerdy Asian kid with big square glasses, playing video games with you every single day. However, as time passed, he turned into a social media influencer, garnering over tens of thousands of likes on every post.

With an incredibly fake smile, Dylan manages to turn most people into his followers, as his strategy to suck up to the rest of the students seems to work quite well.

Though he seems to be quite irredeemable, you do remember him being a selfless kid with a big heart. There are so many memories with him helping you out whenever he could, being the only person you could confide in. What could have made him turn against you when you needed him most?

Olivia Hartley

If your MC had to choose the most unlikely person to ever do them wrong, then Olivia would be their first choice. Strong willed and incredibly sarcastic, this raven-haired tall girl has remained exactly the same 7 years later.

And yet, she did betray you on the day of the Tragedy, giving secret information to your bullies and allowing you to fall victim to their prank… What could have been her reason?

Olivia is an incredibly intuitive person, with a quick mind and a powerful personality to boot. Someone like her will likely be a huge challenge in the upcoming revenge, but not even her can stop this mastermind.

Michael Knox

This tall, dark, and handsome captain of the Baseball team can be, depending on your choices, the person that tricked you into falling in love with him, only to publicly humiliate you in front of the whole school.

He is an incredibly talented athlete with a very arrogant attitude, assuming that the world belongs to him. With a very rich dad to support him, nothing has ever gone wrong in his life, if we were to ignore his mother’s death during his birth.

Can he be considered one of the main antagonists of this story or is he just a secret follower that only followed orders during the Tragedy?

Cecily Knight

Ah yes, Cecily Knight. Everyone, everywhere knows who Cecily Knight is. This petite blue-eyed blonde is the captain of the swimming team, and regularly publicly humiliates anyone that attempts to get to know her romantically.

With such a strong reputation, Cecily manages to order around anyone in the school with ease, as they all lower their heads when she passes them on the hallways.

However, observing her more closely can reveal that she is much more docile with her friends and loved ones. Is she actually an ice queen or is it all a facade to protect herself?

Connor Cobb

With his long blond hair and piercing smile, Connor tends to attract every girl that passes his way. However, he manages to make them all leave once he opens his mouth, as his desperation can be seen from miles away.

As the star guitarist of The Fighting Rooster, Connor is an incredibly talented individual that planned the whole part of the Tragedy where they befriended you first before destroying your life.

Though he seems like a total idiot, looking into his life seems to reveal that there is more to him than just this fake persona he shows everyone. With 3 younger siblings, Connor seems to have a lot on his shoulders as many in his family look up to him.

Isaac Freeman

With his curly red locks and emerald eyes, Isaac manages to trick many people into thinking he is someone they would like to get to know. As the mastermind behind the Tragedy, he is the worst out of all the people on this list.

It is quite common for him, even 7 years later, to bully students so badly that they decide to move schools. By observing his behavior, it seems that all he cares about is being thoroughly entertained.

Either make him laugh, do something outrageous, or get out of his way, as he will do his best to make every day more interesting than the last.

Vivian Porter

Vivian turned from Isaac’s best friend in her childhood to Dylan’s current confidant. With a seemingly perfect appearance and an endless wardrobe, Vivian manages to impress anyone that sees her pass by.

She is incredibly empathic, being able to tell what anyone is feeling at a glance, allowing her to use this skill to make anyone fall for her ambitious tricks.

Is she just someone that just made a mistake during childhood or are her intentions impure at this age as well?

Haley Freeman

As Isaac’s twin sister, nobody would expect her to be the biggest goody two shoes the world has ever seen. Seemingly stuttering her way through most conversations, people usually tend to forget she even exists.

This curvy redhead has a deep passion for painting, as she spends most of her time in the school gardens, capturing the view.

Is there more to Isaac’s sister than meets the eye or is she just another victim of Isaac’s abuse?

Allies

Angela Slone

A swimmer with long, brown hair, Angela is part of the team alongside Cecily. After being bullied into submission by the harpy, she reluctantly decides to help the MC carry out their revenge against their many targets.

With a bubbly personality and a merciful soul, Angela is possibly the worst ally for this revenge you could find. However, this doesn’t mean she can’t be tricked into giving you what you want.

Marcus Parmer

Marcus has led a horrible life during high school. Being diagnosed with a medical condition forcing him to go bald, he has been constantly bullied by Isaac ever since he joined the Baseball team.

He is much more serious than any of the allies you can find in the school, but he isn’t the most capable person for the job. He is, however, excited to help you get rid of the scum pretending to be students in his school.

[xoxoskai]

ELIAVA HEADCANNONS

May 2024 is too far, and the delusion preservation is imperative.

Eli listens to classical music just for Ava.

Ava sometimes sneaks into the library at the King's mansion just to swipe a book or two that she may have seen Eli reading. Other times, she bribes Creighton.

Eli is practically adopted by Silver the moment Elsa reveals his little crush (privately, of course) on her daughter. It does not stop Cole from throwing jabs at him whenever he comes over to hang out with Aunt Silver and to spy on his girl.

During their childhood, they've been locked together by their friends/siblings/cousins in the same room/closet plenty of times.

As a sign of rebellion against her parents, Ava once dyes her entire hair pink. The mortification hits her soon after and she refuses to talk to anyone until one text, one silent drive to the salon later she's sharing her snickers bar with Eli as a form of thanks.

Eli always leaves an anonymous bouquet of pink roses (her favorite) for Ava before her recitals in her dressing room. It's the only sign that he attends her recitals at all (Eli has attended every single one of them).

Whenever Eli goes AWOL, only Ava knows he's hiding in the library in a dark nook that has space behind the shelf just enough for two people. Sometimes, she joins him. Other times, she lays her head against his shoulder as he reads in the quiet.

All the teasing garnered from her friends due to Eli's attention suddenly stops one day. Becomes more...cautious.

Eli swears he had nothing to do with it and that he would never threaten them (he's lying, he nearly makes Remi cry).

Ava, like her mom, also writes journals where a lot of pages have Eli's name written, circled, crossed and scribbled out.

For prom, RES hosts a masquerade theme but every single boy in the school is terrified to ask Ava to prom. Glyndon decides to go without a date as well and Cecily flies in to join them. Both friends pretend not to notice Ava dancing with a masked stranger on the dancefloor at midnight.

Eli never stays longer than five minutes at any of Ava's birthdays/sometimes she never finds him at all, but she always finds his gifts in her room.

Ava has a jersey with Eli's number on it that Cole secretly swipes out of her closet to burn but gets caught by Silver.

Ariella is Eli's partner-in-crime.

After Eli leaves for University, Ava shows up at the King's mansion under the pretense of hanging out with Elsa but it's just to sneak into Eli's room and look at all his awards and trophies longingly she does not miss him.

When they finally start dating, they are met with long-suffering sighs, "finally"'s and "took you guys forever."

Ava drops little hints of herself wherever she can find a place for it. Scrunchie on his gearshift. Perfume bottle on his desk. "Accidental" kiss mark on his collar. Her ring on a chain around his neck.

Ava makes Eli watch all the chick-flicks she can because she's appalled when she finds out he hasn't watched Mean Girls.

"BOo, yoU wHoRE" - Remi says, sitting next to Cecy, Glyn, Annika and Ava wearing a facemask matching theirs.

The moment Cole opens the door to see his daughter and King's spawn standing together, hand-in-hand, the first thing he says is "No"

And it's final, too. No amount of convincing from both Silver and Ava seems to work.

When he finally comes around and they all sit down for dinner, they have a "Daddy, can you pass the salt?" moment after which Eli is chased out of the house by Cole and his gün.

Eli sneaks in thru the balcony into Ava's room anyway. Both Ariella and Silver know and choose not to tell Cole.

Eli's only saving grace with Cole is that Eli would kilI for his daughter or die trying and Cole wouldn't want any man willing to give anything lesser for his Ava.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○

Part two?

[perfinn]

the heat that drives the light

aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc - part v

wc: 4.4k

summary: aemond and cecily have a much needed conversation.

cw: NSFW, this is the one y'all! j pushes her aemond/mr. darcy agenda, fingering, almost a handjob, p in v, titty suckin

masterlist, read on ao3, divider by saradika

Aemond thinks the only being who truly knows him is Vhagar. Too big, too much to be confined in any castle or dragonpit. When Aemond is in the sky with her, or otherwise, he feels he is himself. 

“I suppose the thing that confuses me the most,” he says to her in soft High Valyrian, reclining against her neck on some beach somewhere in the Crownlands. “Is that she truly seems to want it. To know me, I mean. Carnally and… otherwise.”

Vhagar grumbles where she’s settled, head in the sand and her green eyes watching the waves lap at the shore. She’s a fine listener, but has never been much of a conversationalist. 

Aemond sighs. “It is not ladylike, is it?” He says. “To desire sex so readily. A man desires sex. A man or a whore, perhaps.”

Vhagar huffs at that, seeming to disagree. 

“Well, I’m sure you do,” Aemond grumbles, smiling in amusement. “You are an animal. It's different for you. But I suppose men are like animals too. We fuck like hounds. Ladies, highborn ladies as fair and fragile as Cecily, they shouldn't want that. I don't know how I can make her see that I only deny her out of respect for her position.”

Aemond looks out at the crashing waves. He must be somewhere near Duskendale, he thinks. Far enough to be freed of the suffocating walls of King’s Landing, at least. There is a fishing boat on the horizon. Aemond wonders, distantly, about the men on it. Are they married? What must it be, to be common and married? There is so much more opportunity to love one’s wife, he is certain, when it comes not with the pressures of political alliance. Not that he wishes he were common, oh no. He only finds himself envying that they lack the same burden of responsibility. 

“I don't know what to do, Vhagar,” Aemond admits. “Dragons sing to one another. I cannot sing to her.”

Vhagar shifts her head so one of her eyes can see Aemond. She seems, as ever, to be judging him. 

“It is not as simple as you make it out to be,” he says. He’d never speak like this to her with anyone listening. Treating her as though she responds verbally. But none are around for miles save for the fishing boat that is becoming only a dot on the horizon. “She believes I hate her. And in truth, I do not think I do.”

Vhagar blinks slowly, a low rumble sounding in her throat. Aemond can feel the vibrations of it against his back. He feels glad he can interpret her answer however he wishes. Use her to give voice to the thoughts he dare not raise himself. 

“I suppose I ought to just talk to her. Prove to myself she is not so humiliating. She seems… smart. Strong willed. I suppose I do like that in a woman.”

Vhagar lowers her head to the ground again, ancient gaze on the ocean yet again. Aemond wonders if she ever sees the sea and thinks of the Lady Laena. What it must be to live so long and lose so many. 

Aemond stands, sighing and nodding with determination. “You are wise, my girl,” he says, turning around and running a hand over her drooping scales. “I can hope only to match a portion of your wit someday.”

Aim high, Vhagar seems to say. But do not strain yourself reaching for what is impossible.

Aemond makes his way to Cecily’s chambers that evening. It is Ser Erryk stationed outside her door today. 

Cole had initially protested the idea of stationing a Kingsguard outside of Cecily’s door each night, but it had been Alicent to suggest it and then insist upon it. Cecily was a part of the royal family by marriage, and more vulnerable by far than any of them bar the children. Ser Harrold had agreed with the queen’s conclusion. Aemond had concurred, though quietly. 

He knocks on the door, entering when Cecily calls him in. She’s sitting in the settee by the hearth, a needlework hoop in her lap.

“Cecily,” he greets. Cecily startles at the sound of his voice, moving to stand up. “No, don’t. I mean… you may sit. I hoped I could join you.”

Cecily fails to hide the surprise in her face, but after a moment she nods and gestures to the armchair across from her. She adjusts in her seat, wearing her nightgown and a silken green robe. Her chestnut hair is loose, falling in soft ringlets down her back and around her face. She smiles nervously. 

“I wasn't expecting company,” she says, fiddling with the hoop in her lap. “Yours especially.”

Aemond hums, looking down at the hoop before spotting a well organised wooden box on the table full of thread, each spool labelled by embossed letters. “How do you do that when you cannot see it?”

Cecily blinks, smiling a bit and lifting the hoop back up into her hands. “Very slowly.”

Aemond huffs in amusement. “I can imagine. How do you know if it looks good?”

“I haven't a clue,” she admits, lifting the hoop and turning it to face him. “What say you?”

It seems to be half finished. What has been stitched is a dragon of shining green, and the charcoal sketch around it shows roses. It is not as refined as, say, Helaena’s work, but for a girl who cannot see, it is fine work.

“It looks fine,” he tells her truthfully. “A dragon and roses?”

Cecily smiles wryly, setting the hoop back in her lap. “Yes. My father’s suggestion. I suppose he means for me to gift it to you. He tells me your dragon is green.”

“She is,” he says.”Though some might call her brown.”

“All the same to me. She was green in the history books.”

Aemond is quiet for a moment. “You remember?” 

Cecily leans forward and feels for the table before carefully setting the hoop down. “I do. Or, at least, I have memories of things I saw. But I never know whether I can trust them. May I tell you a truth?”

Aemond nods. Then, he feels his cheeks heat. Idiot. “Yes.”

“I fear that I have actually forgotten it all, and my mind is filling in the gaps of how people look.”

Aemond stares at her in silence a moment. “Is it not all filling in the gaps?”

She shakes her head. “Not always. I told you, my parents are said to look the very same as they did when I went blind. But memory is a funny thing.”

Aemond watches her, not wishing to interrupt until she feels she’s finished speaking. 

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “You probably do not want to know.”

“No,” Aemond says quickly. “No, I do. Or I would not have asked.”

Cecily smiles nervously. She nods, fiddling with the stitching of her robe. “I do wish I could see you, sometimes. But I have a clear image of your face in my head now.”

“I have been unkind to you,” Aemond blurts out, kicking himself for speaking his mind so carelessly. 

She seems just as shocked by the admission, doe eyes blinking slowly. “Not unkind.”

“Yes, unkind,” he says firmly. “I have been cold and rude to you when you have not earned it. In truth, I believed you a burden.”

She’s quiet a moment, fidgeting now with the embroidery on her robe. “Because I am blind.”

“Yes,” Aemond breathes. “I thought our parents matched us because of our deformities. I thought… you were chosen for me because they believed that my one eye is all I am.”

“And in turn you believed my blindness is all I am,” Cecily says quietly, carefully. There is no coldness or resentment in her voice. How can she speak to him so calmly when he admits to her such cruelty? He would surely be seething if she admitted to the same. “I noticed as much. And it hurts more than I am prepared to say.” 

Aemond’s throat grows tight. He opens his mouth once, twice, before he can find the strength to tell her, “I’m sorry.”

“I do not blame you,” she admits. “People with sight base their thoughts and impressions on what they see first. I am given the privilege of being able to do nothing but judge people on their character alone.”

Won't she accept his apology? Can't she know how much it pained him to say so little?

“May I ask you something, lord husband?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, then adds, “Please call me Aemond.”

Cecily nods, taking a deep breath. “Do I repulse you?”

“Re-repulse me?” Aemond sputters. “How could you repulse me? You are beautiful.”

She purses her lips. She doesn't believe him. He can see it.  

“Cecily,” he murmurs, reaching across and gently placing a hand on her knee. She startles for just a moment. “I desire you. Most ardently.”

Cecily exhales, lips parted. Aemond cannot take his gaze from her. “Yet you will not touch me.” 

Aemond shifts out of his seat, moving so he kneels before her. He takes her hand. “There is little in this world that would make me feel worse than to disrespect you so readily.” He pauses, staring up at her. He lifts her hand to his mouth, lips brushing over her knuckles. “Is it what you truly want?”

He sees his wife shiver. “More than anything.”

For a moment, Aemond closes his eye, taking in the sheer relief of the truth. His desire is not unfounded, not bred in sin and shameless lust, it is requited. She does not simply desire the wanton pleasure of sex. She desires him. He sighs softly, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before standing up slowly. 

“Stand,” he encourages. 

Cecily rises. Aemond tilts her chin up so he might see her face. He reaches for the velvet ribbon tying her robe and pulls on it slowly, parting the silk which he slowly slides from her shoulders. The nightgown beneath is a gauzy white fabric, hemmed with lace. 

Such opulence merely to sleep in. Such opulence only to be removed. There is a small string tied to a bow at her chest, securing the gown on her shoulders. He takes the end of it and gently pulls, freeing the knot. The chest of the nightgown falls open.

It does not expose her completely, but he can see the gentle curve of her breasts, the way they sit upon her chest. Cecily’s breath catches and she closes her eyes. 

Aemond moves slowly as he slips it from her shoulders, giving her each and every opportunity to pull away or stop him. 

She does not. 

He slips the nightgown from her shoulders and watches it slip down her body and pool around her feet. There's nothing beneath it– he has bared her to him. 

“No smallclothes?”

Cecily’s cheeks flush. “I do not like to sleep in them,” she murmurs. “I-I wasn't expecting-”

“It's alright,” Aemond assures, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently trailing down the length of her arms. Her skin is warm. Milky pale and scattered with moles. The firelight flickers against her form, dancing across her skin. 

“May I undress you?” She asks softly, reaching up and resting her hands on his chest. 

“You may,” Aemond grants, hands continuing to explore her body as her fingers search for the clasp of his doublet. He lowers his hands to her hips, examining the way they dip inward slightly and tracing over them. Cecily finds the clasps, slowly undoing them, one by one. 

Aemond is given ample time to explore her body. His cock twitches in his pants but he ignores it, trying instead to commit the shape of her to memory. He slides his hands up to the slight dip of her waist, gently rubbing his thumb over a round mole a few inches below her breast. 

She is not maddening. Not in the way he thought she’d be. He has not lost all control of himself in touching her, but he is maddened all the same. How can he ever let himself do anything else but explore her?

He lowers his hands when Cecily pushes his doublet off his shoulders, shrugging it off and wasting no time in pulling off his tunic, dropping it to the ground so his chest is bare before her. Her deft, delicate fingers find his stomach, a soft breath leaving her mouth as she traces the defined muscles there. 

Aemond raises his own hands back to her waist. One large palm settles on her warm skin while the other ventures upward, brushing gently over her nipple. Her breasts are small, round things that sit seemingly perfect on her chest. Cecily sighs softly when Aemond’s fingers brush over them, and he feels a smirk pull at his lips. 

“You’re so…” Cecily trails off, a look in her eyes that Aemond hopes is admiration. He had once believed there was naught but emptiness in her eyes, but there is so much. Just because they do not see, does not mean they do not sparkle like amber. “Strong.”

“And you are beautiful,” he murmurs, experimentally pinching at her budding nipples. 

She gasps, eyes fluttering closed. Her hands travel down, finding the lacing of his breeches. “Aemond, that feels…”

Good, he hopes. He watches Cecily bite her lip, hands pulling at the lacing with more urgency. Though he wishes not to think often of his night in the brothel with his brother, where so many of the whores chuckled at the young prince, he cannot say that the woman he did lie with– he dare not recall her name in such a moment with his wife – did not leave him without any knowledge of how to please a woman. 

He hopes she had been truthful in her teachings, and that he may please Cecily. 

“Good,” Cecily continues, tugging his breeches down. “Very good.”

Aemond grasps her hips, kicking his pants away. “I’m going to walk you back toward the bed,” he warns in a murmur. Without waiting for an answer, he steps forward and urges Cecily’s hips back. She acquiesces, trusting him to lead her safely to the bed. 

“Step,” he warns, just a moment too late. Cecily stumbles, and while Aemond’s face drops into terror for having scared her, his wife only begins to giggle.

She wraps her arms around him for stability, sweet laughter filling her chambers. 

“Are you okay?” Aemond asks, her laughter infectious enough that he feels a smile pull at his lips.

“Yes,” Cecily giggles breathlessly, leaning her forehead against Aemond’s bicep. “Yes, I’m golden. I can keep walking.” 

Aemond huffs a soft chuckle, gently leading her the rest of the way to the bed until the backs of her thighs hit the mattress. Cecily pulls away to climb back onto it, shimmying back to lay half upright against the pillows while Aemond climbs over her. She wears a comfortable smile, and Aemond’s heartbeat quickens. She is so beautiful when she smiles. How could he ever bear to make her frown?

Her hands find his body again, trailing down his torso as he settles himself between her legs. Her fingers brush through the small amount of silvery hair at the base of his cock. His breath hitches, and he almost reaches to stop her again. But he resists, letting her trail her fingers to his hardening cock.

Cecily’s mouth opens and fascination fills her eyes. “May I?” she asks shyly.

Aemond smirks. “Wanton woman,” he mumbles, only making her smile. “You may. If I may do the same.”

“Of course.”

While his wife wraps her soft fingers around his length – Seven hells, it’s better than he imagined – he smooths his hands over her inner thighs, spreading them enough so that he might see that which he desires most. 

Beneath a thick bushel of dark hair sits her cunt, pretty and pink and all but untouched. It fills him with swelling pride to know no one has touched it but himself. He exhales slowly, gently dragging his thumb through her slick folds, gathering enough that he may rub the pad of the digit over her pearl. Cecily shivers, inhaling a sharp gasp. Her hand squeezes Aemond’s cock and a similar noise escapes him. 

He cannot focus on her while she strokes his cock as she does. He takes a gentle hold of her wrist, pulling her hand away from him. “Allow me to take care of you,” he murmured. 

“I want to make you feel good too,” Cecily insists softly. 

“It is I who has denied you too long. Allow me to make it up to you.” He drags his gaze away from her core to see conflict on her face. “Please.”

She worries her bottom lip a moment before nodding. “Okay. But next time I will return the favour.”

Aemond chuckles. “As you wish,” he says, looking back down to her cunt as he rubs slow circles onto her pearl. Cecily shivers again, dropping her hands and winding them into the sheets beneath her. Aemond lifts his gaze to her face a moment as he toys with her, watching the way it twists in confused pleasure. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” He asks. 

She shakes her head, cheeks flushing pink. “No,” she murmurs. “I-I would not know how.”

“Mm,” he hums, moving to pet his middle finger over her entrance. “That is okay. Then we must find what makes you tick together.”

Cecily tilts her hips up, mewling softly at the feeling as he presses a slender finger into her waiting heat. He goes slow, gaze flicking between her face and her cunt. He cannot decide which sight is more delectable– the way her face twists and slackens as her body accepts the stretching pleasure, or the way she so eagerly accepts him into her core. His wife squirms against the intrusion and he leans down to press gentle kisses to the unblemished skin of her breasts. 

He feels Cecily shiver as he drags his tongue over her pert nipple. He pumps his finger slowly into her cunt, working his way up to fitting each knuckle into her. She’s desperately tight, all but untouched. The idea of having it wrapped around his cock is intoxicating– it's all he can do not to plunge his cock into her right now and spare them both the waiting.

He gently sucks a nipple into his mouth, groaning softly as he works his finger in to the base. Cecily is squirming and moaning at the feeling, her hands finding purchase in Aemond’s hair. Aemond begins to pump his finger into her, slowly working in another. 

“Seven hells,” she whispers, voice strangled and mewling as Aemond grazes his teeth over the delicate skin of her breasts. 

He pulls his mouth away, lifting his head to hover over her face. The desire to kiss her wrestles with the wish to see her face as he unravels her. When her eyes flutter open and her lip is pulled between her teeth, the need to watch her wins out. 

He eases the second finger into her, cunt acquiescing now to the stretch. Still, she’s tight. He wonders if it would hurt her too much to take her now.

No, he thinks. He won’t hurt her, not tonight, not again. Not ever.

When he can thrust two fingers into her with no resistance, he presses his thumb to her pearl and begins to ease a third in. Cecily winces and Aemond shushes her as sweetly as he can manage, pressing gentle kisses to her collarbone. 

“Just one more,” he murmurs, circling the sensitive bud to make it easier for her. She squirms still beneath him, but sweet whimpering moans spill from between her lips. “Is this what you wanted, sweetling? Mmm?”

Cecily nods rapidly, grasping for Aemond’s shoulder and gripping it tight. He’s suddenly determined to bring her to her end before he ever puts his cock in her, pressing his thumb harder against her pearl as he sucks a nipple into his mouth again, hunched over her smaller form as his aching cock drips onto the sheets beneath him. He pays it no mind, the noises of pleasure he’s pulling from his wife worth so much more than a simple touch on his stiff manhood would be. Cecily’s voice breaks off as his third finger squeezes into her, giving more resistance this time. He gazes up at her face, tongue flicking at her nipple as he feels her spasm around his fingers. 

“A-Aemond!” She cries, a hint of panic creeping into her voice at what must surely be a foreign sensation for her. So pious. Innocent. It makes Aemond’s cock twitch.

Aemond hushes her. “It’s alright,” he murmurs. “Let go.”

He sees the hesitance on her face for a moment, before she seems to decide to trust in him  – Gods, why does that trust stir something in his chest so distinct from lust? – and relaxes, her back arching as a long, sweet mewl escapes her and she comes on his fingers. He feels her walls spasm around his fingers, greedily sucking the third finger in as Cecily writhes on the bed, helpless to her body’s baser whims. Aemond guides her through it, pressing kisses to the skin of her breasts.

“Good girl,” he murmurs when she stills, panting softly. He slowly pulls his fingers out of her, shifting onto his knees between her legs. He ruts his aching cock along her sensitive cunt, making her whine. He gently shushes her, placing his hand– still slick with her essences – onto her hip and rubbing slow circles into her soft skin. 

He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it a few times and exhaling shakily at the relief he hadn’t realised he needed. Lining himself up with her, he leans forward to watch her face as he presses the bulbous head of his cock into her. Less thick, perhaps, than three of his long fingers, but nothing to scoff at. Aemond knows he’s above average size, and knows Cecily has taken him before. But then he was careless, passionless. And she did not take him to his base. Now he takes it slow, wants to see her ache for him as he eases tortuously slow into her. Cecily’s face scrunches up, hands darting to his shoulders for purchase. Her mouth drops open as he splits her on his length, and Aemond lowers his gaze to watch her take him. Gods, she’s divine. He’s been inside plenty of women in his day, but none quite so perfect as Cecily. It’s like her warm, wet, tight walls were made to take him.

He meets resistance a few inches in, grunting softly. He moves his fingers back to her pearl, rubbing at it slowly as he thrusts shallowly into her. This way, he eases his cock the rest of the way into her, a low, shaking breath escaping him as he seats fully himself inside her. Cecily is trembling, squirming.

“Do you need a moment?”

“S-so much,” Cecily whispers. Aemond realises then that she must still be sensitive from her prior release. He continues to rub at her hip and at her pearl, gaze intense as she hiccups for breath beneath her. A dark part of Aemond wants to fuck her properly right now, make her take it and watch her unravel with sweet overstimulation. But he has no wish to hurt her. He stills his movements on her pearl, instead simply letting her adjust at her own pace. 

Cecily’s breathing quickens, then slows. There’s a few dreadfully slow moments before she speaks. “I can keep going,” she whispers.

A smile tugs at Aemond’s mouth. He anchors his hand on the mattress by her head, leaning over her as he pulls out almost tot the tip before rocking back into her. The drag of her slick walls against his cock has a trembling groan leaving him, matched by Cecily’s conflicted moan. Aemond supposes she’s still adjusting to the feeling of being fucked, deciding whether she likes it. Aemond, determined to convince her, drags his hand through her slick folds and plays once more with her sensitive pearl. 

He lowers his gaze to see the way her swollen cunt takes his length, watches himself carve a space in her almost-untouched sex. His. No one else will ever touch her, no one else ever has. The thought of it, of marking her as only his twists something strange and arousing inside him. He reaches suddenly for her hand, intertwining their fingers as he hunches over her. This way, he can see the ring on her finger. The ring he’d given her the day of their wedding. A golden rose inlaid with garnets and onyx, a screaming symbol that she’s his.

Only weeks ago, Aemond could not have imagined himself so aroused by the thought of Cecily being his. But now, he suspects it will be the thing that brings him to his end. Cecily is moaning in his ear now, any discomfort seeming to have given way to pleasure as she rolls her hips in time with Aemond’s languid thrusting. She has always been beautiful, he could not deny that even from the moment he first saw her, but now, in the candlelight with her hair loose and her eyes closed as her face twists in pleasure, Aemond doubts there’s a more beautiful woman in all the known world and beyond.

“Give me another one,” he demands, pinching gently at her pearl and making her gasp. He quickly soothes it, stroking his calloused fingers over the sensitive bud. “Please, Cecily.”

Cecily lets out a strangled sort of moan and Aemond feels it when she reaches a second climax, her cunt spasming around him, sucking him in, practically trying to milk him. Who is he to deny her? Aemond comes with a guttural sort of sound and a desperate forward thrust of his hips, spilling his seed as deep as he can get it. 

There’s a moment where the both of them are tangled together in their joint release, a blissful sort of thing that Aemond can only liken to being atop Vhagar in the air. Aemond tucks his face into Cecily’s neck, inhaling the scent. She does smell like roses. 

Their shared reverie is broken only by their quiet panting. Aemond lifts his head after a moment, pushing some hair back from her face. 

“Was I okay?” She asks, insecurity creeping into her tired tone. 

Aemond leans down and surprising himself by pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her petal soft lips. “You were perfect.”

part vi

[listerbirdloml]

surprise surprise it’s me again (7/???)

also the tweet lister has about rowan is meant to be dated as 2018 not 2017 but i couldn’t be bothered fixing it so you’ll just have to deal

unrelated to the tweets, but might already be working on some new writing stuff 👀👀

[touloserrrr]

[howtotrainabraincell]

The Ultimate Cinnamon Roll Deserves Better

A lot of people don't like Jacob Frye, but I DO and anyone who doesn't and trash talks my darling British boy can see my secretary Miss. FightMeYou'llLose. She has a doctorate in Sassology.

Jacob is such a sweetheart and needs more love. I'm being serious. He needs more love. A LOT more love. I understand that his personality doesn't suit everyone, and to each their own but I can't help but get this feeling that the majority of the crazy, risky, and 'stupid' things he does are for attention.

Not because he's like an attention whore or anything who revels in attention like an egotistical narcissist/sociopath/psychopath. But he does it for attention in the context of: Evie getting more attention in their childhood and him feeling lonely and emotionally neglected as a result.

I mean their father favored Evie because she reminded him of his wife Cecily who passed away giving birth to the twins, and then Jacob I believe in his opinion was just...a spare child who he wasn't willing to "deal with". He kinda seemed to see Jacob as a spare child like - "Oops we had two and I only wanna be a dad to one, so the other one gets the short of the stick." I'm not sure that Ethan Frye blamed Jacob for Cecily's death and I can't confirm something that I'm not sure of, but I don't quite get that vibe. But I mean it could be the case as from what I remember Ethan was a harsh father to Jacob, and he certainly gained my disdain even though he was never present in the actual game.

I think he does the things he does partially because he is - AND I SAY THIS WITH LOVE - an ADHD having chaotic dumba-s, but in the best way. Evie is so 'put together' and 'well read' and 'intelligent' and 'perfect'. Meanwhile he's regarded as the 'dumb, younger, annoying, risk taking' baby brother. I don't think he's stupid either. He has a different kind of intelligence than his sister Evie which IS in fact noticeable. She is traditional, academic, and book smart and Jacob is more street smart, creative, and combat/tactical intelligence.

I am just of the opinion that Jacob Frye doesn't deserve all the hate he gets for being 'dumb and annoying'. Everyone has their opinion, but this is mine, and to me his behavior is a cry for behavior due to being constantly neglected and overlooked. The shadow of his older 'perfect' sister.

[rinadragomir]

Im happy but Im sad cassie feels tid couples dont have room for telling stories, I feel gabrily is very incomplete and needed more plot, we just saw them kissing and then when they had three kids but not what happened, we didnt even get Wills reaction to them dating :(

The infernal devices couples got devoured by herongratstairs, I'll always be mad at how Cassie acts like no one but them exists in TID. Though she did give some material for minor ships in other TSC series.

Sophideon wedding mention where? Did Sophie change after transformation ceremony? What was it like for her? How did her and Gideon's relationship develop after she stopped being a servant? Her pregnancy issues. Where why what how. I only know that they had a cat in Chain of Thorns

Gabrily probably did something bad to Cassie, cause we barely saw them together even in TLH. What their relationship was like? Did they have any dates? How did he propose her? What do they love doing together? Hello? Hi? How r u, r u guys alive out there? Because I bet they had a wild life, Gabriel threw some man out of the window because he mostly wanted to impress Cecily. Where's that now?

AH Charlotte x Henry.... Do they even have a ship name? Who knows. They're chaotic ones, he got her pregnant BEFORE they confessed their feelings for each other. And y'all keep wondering why Matthew is the way he is. Because his parents are sluts. Working sluts. How are they doing? How did their relationship change after they found out about each other's feelings? What was her first pregnancy like? How was basically everything?

My only hope is the fact that we have 1) Matthew's extra story 2) Anna & Ari story 3) Thomastair story and MAYBE IF GOD EXISTS AND HE WISHES KINDNESS UPON US we'll get some of their parents crumbs.

[cheriecelestial]

Luminary Pt.II

pairing *:･ﾟ���*:･ﾟ✧ Yan Emperor!OC X Swordmaster!OC

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ yandere thoughts. hurt/ no comfort. angst. mentions of violence and character death. lovers to enemies.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Please listen to Joel Sunny’s Luminary for the whole experience. COMMENT LIKE & REBLOG ✿.*･｡ﾟ (ㅅ´ ˘ `) Pt.1

“Atticus was kind,” Atticus' ears perked up at his mention, his brows knitted in confusion as to why she was referring to him as if she was talking about someone else ? “You said your magic erases insignificant feelings. You were always so full of kindness, what happened?” Her words struck the platinum haired man like lightning. But what she saw in him was just him mirroring her light like the moon does with the sun and nothing else.

“To you my darling. I was kind because you deserved it. I cared because you did, always. You broke me out of my mould, out of all the rules and conceptions I had about my life. And I loved you for it. But before I knew it i started doing everything by your book. Everything for you. To win you, for validation, for love. So much so that I lost sight of my goal.” His words died by the end of his sentence, if they were talking truth now — he might as well splay his feelings out in front of her.

“I was just trying to save you. I-I-”Cecily barely stuttered out. He felt Cecily's hand on his shoulder dig in. Her bottom lip quivered and her body trembled to the point that she swayed slightly on her feet. If he could feel any guilt or remorse he was sure that the look on her face would've devastated Atticus more than anything he had experienced before but all he felt was a strange tightness in his chest.

Calming herself, she took a deep breath and spoke in a low tone,“ Is that what I was to you ? A distraction from your goal ? I tried Atticus. I tried so hard to save you from yourself.” He telt a part of his shoulder burn where she rested her hand.

“Distraction ? No my love. I know you tried to save me and for a moment there - I swore you did . But leaving behind all I had ever known was a risk I was never willing to take, because what will become of me when I abandon the laws that have shaped me ? You gave me life but my vengeance gave me purpose.” Atticus knew he wasn’t a good man from the very start. That something was fundamentally flawed about his existence. An inadequacy, one he’d never overcome. And somewhere deep within, he was jealous. Jealous of Cecily for being so perfect . She always so full of vitality. Like a star, even when she held his face in her hands — she always somehow felt so far away, somehow felt so unattainable. The problem with being born in hell and then being getting a taste of heaven was - that no matter how hard you tried you could never overcome that nagging feeling in the back of your head that told you that you didn’t belong. There was one sole lesson he learnt from all of this was he had too many demons to love an angel. So if he couldn’t belong in the heaven, he would drag his haloed darling to the hell.

“The reason I came here was to see if there was a modicum of redeemable humanity left in you. If there was any part of my Atticus left. Marcel was right, you have changed beyond recognition. I no longer recognise the person I’m looking at.” Her tone grew distant by the second. It was the same tone people talked about the deceased at funerals. Mourning him as if he had died, like he wasn’t still alive and breathing in front of her. She almost thought it would be easier if he had died. At least she’d feel some sort of closure, knowing he’s not coming back. But this, this was a nothing but pure torture for her.

But then he wasn’t gone, if anything he was doing better than he ever was. Leaving her behind to pick up the shattered pieces of what they once had. Yet somehow, she couldn’t hate him for that - not really anyways. No amount of anger would mend the torn pieces of her broken heart. She was left in emotional turmoil, love mixing with hate mixing with rage, betrayal and depression. No matter how many times the word hate flashed through her mind, it was never truly directed at Atticus. Rather the world, the things they had forced upon him, the pressure he had been made to feel.

Shakily, Cecily raised her palm to caress his hair. Atticus almost flinched at how warm her war calloused hand felt against his face. He nuzzled his face closer to her palm as his emotions as a cacophony of fear, desire, hate, and desolation, all battling one another for control. Her touch was a fire he would willingly walk into.

Cecily cupped Atticus’ face and tilted her chin up to him, parting her lips ever so slightly. Atticus’s brain went into overdrive at her invitation. She resembled a siren, calling out to him with her sweet song and in the back of his head he knew there would be consequences to this. But the moment her lips touched his he stopped breathing. His mind went blank. Every feeling, thought, and emotion that he has ever felt floods through him in a torrent. He could barely comprehend the feeling of her lips on his own. His hands wrapped themselves around her back and tighten as the rush of emotions overwhelms him. At the same time, he was aware of how much he hated this. She was ruining him and she had no idea how much her touch was destroying everything he spent so much time meticulously building.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” Cecily’s emerald green eyes looked hollow yet somehow reverential when she pulled away. Atticus wanted to grab her shoulders, shake her violently and yell that he was still here so why did she look at him with such melancholy.

“I don’t need saving Cecilia. Join me my darling. Be my queen and I swear we could restore this empire to all its deserved glory.”He gripped her hand resting against his cheek and pleaded. He didn’t care if he sounded desperate or pathetic, he just needed her to say yes.

Cecily shook her head slowly and said,“ As appealing as it sounds, you and I both know you don’t plan on making me anything apart from your canary in a gilded cage because I will never approve of you methods and neither will I aid you in them.” Atticus sighed in defeat. He bit the inside of his cheek till he tasted blood. If she wasn’t going to give in voluntarily, he just had to make her.

“You know you can’t win against me. Even if you persevere and defeat my armies. You can’t kill me. Dark magic makes me impervious to all weaponry and magic. No one in history has ever been able to accomplish it. What makes you think you will be able to do it ?” Atticus challenged her knowing that even with all her strength, there was no way in hell she could win. She wouldn’t fight for so long if she knew she didn’t stand a chance, an ominous voice warned him .

“None but one”

He knew who she was referring to. The legend Seraphina Andrea Reginald and her aura sword — the Caelum Lux. The founder of the continent. She was this golden figure who was the beacon of morality, freedom and justice. An allegory and dubbed to be reincarnation of the goddess of light Lumine. But that was the end of it- a legend, another one of story tellers’ dramatic gimmicks to make little children believe in virtue. Even though Cecily belonged to her bloodline, calling upon such power was next to impossible.

“It’s a children’s story my darling. The Caelum Lux isn’t a real sword and you know it.”

Cecily lightly shrugged in response as a silent ‘yes well’. The orchestra began their final piece and a familiar melody swirled around them. It was the song Atticus often played for them at late hours when they’d sneak into the music room at the music room back when they were in the academy. What were the odds that they would play this very song as their final piece ?

“It’s the last waltz your majesty. Dance with me. Just like the old times.”

Wordlessly, Atticus pulled her closer. Her cheek was resting on his chest and his other hand almost holding her in a half hug. This wasn’t the standard waltz position, but it was something so comfortingly intimate to them. She was good to him but not to his cause. To Atticus Asterin – Cecily Reginald is an obstacle, but to Atty - Ces is an anchor. His heart felt at peace but his instincts were blaring sirens as if she was his greatest enemy and who knows maybe she was. Push her away and leave, the voice told him as a sign of fatal danger. He gripped her closer as if retaliating to the instinct. Atticus wasn’t going to let anyone take Cecily away from him, not even himself.

“The Caelum Lux isn’t a sword, it’s a bloodline.”Cecily stated calmly as if it wasn’t the most groundbreaking piece of information Atticus had heard. “You remember my father, the late duke, had all my distant relatives covertly killed a few years ago ?”

“Yes, I do remember. It was perhaps the only occasion you mustered the courage to confront him,” he countered. Instead of retaliating in her usual fury, Cecily merely smiled and continued, “Its aura can be invoked by the last descendant after absorbing the light energy of their deceased kin. Seraphina Reginald wasn’t a swordmaster — she was a mage. The most formidable one to ever exist.” Atticus’ blood ran cold. He remembered the duke and his cold eyes. They were the same colour as Cecily’s but they always held nothing but disgust and disdain, looking at him as if he were nothing but an insect. The only time a different expression crossed the duke’s face was as he lay dying. Atticus pressed the sword to his heart and the duke just smiled back at him. The same smile Cecily was wearing. The same smile a hunter wore when they caught their prey.

After gaining his power, Atticus believed he could shed his fear. He swore to himself that he would never go back to being that helpless weak boy who was even scared of his own shadow. He wasn’t supposed to feel this anymore.

Push her away. She’s dangerous.

Push her away.

Push her away.

“I see.” He felt as though he was stepping forward over this ravine with a snapping tightrope, but she was on the other side with a lamp and a knife, daring him to cross it. But it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t catch him — not anymore. He had emerged victorious, then why did he feel like he was exactly where the duke wanted him to be ?

Atticus looked down to her face pressed against his chest. It was a pleasant. Despite having this beautiful perspective emphasised, Atticus found his head reeling and his breath shallowing. His heart hammering in his chest unstably, feeling somewhat claustrophobic. She can’t defeat me, that’s what the platinum haired man kept telling himself. He was caught in a tailspin, a tailspin that was only leading him one place. He couldn’t let that happen. But she kept haunting his thoughts, along with the other ghosts holed up in his head. Did ruination and salvation always look this identical ?

You can’t put Atticus upon yourself to save — he made the choices he made, you can’t change them. You can’t save a person who doesn’t want to be saved. She told herself sternly. She must done what she had to, what she came here to do. Cecily took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. She didn’t know if she was telling the truth when she said she didn’t recognise him. Everything about him, every minuscule detail about him, had been exactly as she had remembered. He still had the same sweet and playful look in his eyes. He still had the same charming smile. He was still the same person she fell in love with all those years ago so it hurt. She cried, wailed, and tried to be strong as she thought about the moments shared with him and how cruel it was that this was where she ended up.

Their eyes lock, returning each other's gaze, scrutinising the abysmal of their souls that was built with a blended sentiment. She saw a bead of perspiration run down the side of his forehead and his breath getting more laboured by the second. She had to act fast.

For a fleeting moment, silence prevailed in between, the rhythm of their breathing stirring with the progression of the music around them. The music of the waltz filled the room with a gentle, flowing melody. It began with a simple rhythm, gradually building into a sweeping cadence. Footsteps and hands were in perfect time with the music, moving with precision and grace. It was a soothing, romantic piece. The tempo of the music shifted and changed, following the dynamics of the song and the movements of the dancers. Soon it reached a feverish crescendo indicating its dramatic ending .

Atticus wrapped her waist and lifted her in the air for a spin. When he set her down he noticed her eyes were closed. “Love ?” He asked but she didn’t respond. Growing unnerving due to the lack of response he reaped, he called out to her again. An ominous feeling crept up his spine as the voice in his head chided him, too late. When she opened her eyes, they glowed with unnatural amount of light almost as if the goddess Lumine herself had descended from the heavens. Wait, goddess ? Now it all started to make sense to him. Her coming here, the legend of Seraphina Reginald and the Caelum Lux.

Blinding light engulfed the ballroom leaving everyone stunned. And when the light faded, Atticus heard someone scream. He felt oddly disoriented and overwhelmed. What is going on ? He opened his mouth to speak but nothing except blood came out. His hand flew to his neck to feel the thick waterfall of blood dripping from the side of his neck. Before he could register what happened, his knees bucked as he stumbled. Is that my blood ? Am I dying ? His vision started to blur and he felt life slipping away like sand from his fingers. Unlike anything he had ever imagined, instead of fear he felt warmth.

In that moment, he saw the star decorations in the centre of the dome and all the incomplete dreams and promises of forever they made in their youth. His vision cleared for a second and he saw her. He saw everything he ever loved about her – her countenance bore an undeniable allure. Her spun hair, painstakingly brushed to perfection, flowed like silk threads, infused with small silver flowers, an extravagant touch. The jagged burn scar that ran down the side of her face, something that never deterred him from loving her all the same. Swathed in rich lace, her garments caressed her form with the grace of luxury, their hue an enchanting shade of white. This allure was further accentuated by her green eyes, glinting like shards of frozen emeralds, reflecting an unyielding mysterious depth — a landscape of evergreen forests like the ones they would often go hunting in. He stared at her till his vision was tainted by red.

As the world around him darkened, he was left with the haunting echoes of what once was, leaving him to wonder how it all came to this point. too many questions, too little answers. They said love healed, love nurtured, love saved many. Unfortunately for them, the poets were wrong after all, not even love was enough to save them. Her lips moved to say something he couldn’t quite catch, Atticus used the last bit of his strength to strain his ears to hear the last words she would say to him before he left this world .

“Rest now my love, may the gods receive you on the other side, pardoning that which may be absolved.”