#colorless king | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 3 months ago

Text

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au! This one is a horror-themed au for spooky season! Enjoy!

This au is Inspired by the story of King Pedro I of Portugal and Ines de Castro (which is a heartbreaking story that deserves to have more people talking about it), and it's set in a world where Merlin and Arthur are already together in season 3. After a magic reveal gone wrong, Merlin's magic was revealed while Uther was still alive, leading to Uther ordering Merlin's execution while Arthur was away on a hunting trip. When Arthur returns, he's met with the news of Merin's death, but he refuses to believe such horrible news until he rushes into Gaius's chambers, screaming for Merlin, only to find Gaius and Gwen sobbing over Merlin's body.

Arthur is overcome by grief and, after a few hours sitting in Gaius's chambers staring at Merlin's unnaturally still form with tears streaming down his face, Arthur marches off to face his father, to make him pay for his crimes. Uther is, of course, furious over Arthur getting so worked up over a treacherous sorcerer, but Arthur fights him like a madman, fueled by grief and rage.

In the end, Arthur wins the duel, and while the shocked lords and knights watching the whole ordeal were expecting Arthur to run his father through with is blade, Arthur does something that no one expects. He uses his blade to carve open Uther's chest, cutting out his heart, saying that Uther had been so heartless as to take Arthur's love from him, this ought to be his fate.

While the lords and knights were all shocked and horrified at the display, there was little they could do besides acknowledge the prince as their new ruler. Within a couple days, Uther's funeral and Arthur's coronation were organized, but Arthur still felt numb, even as the crown was placed on his head. He could almost feel the empty consort's throne next to him, where Merlin was always supposed to be, mocking him viciously.

But then, an idea formed in Arthur's not-quite-sane-anymore mind. Merlin had always deserved to sit at his side, to be honored as any consort to a king should be. Arthur had to see this through, to ensure that Merlin received the honors that he was denied during life.

Arthur ordered the servants to, under Gaius's supervision, collect Merlin's body, dress him in royal robes, and have him carried to the throne room. There was no way to make any of this right again, no way to make Arthur feel whole once more, but there was a way to make sure that Merlin's memory and all that he meant to Arthur lived on.

When the doors to the throne room finally opened, shocked and horrified gasps rose up from the assembled court at the sight that awaited them. There, being carried in on a stone slab, lay Merlin's pale, prone body, dressed in royal finery from Arthur's own wardrobe. His colorless pallor against the rich red robes created a striking and distinctly disturbing contrast, which was only heightened by the colorful jewelry that accompanied the outfit.

Arthur imagined what a magnificent sight Merlin would have made if he were alive and yearned for such a vision with all of his heart. But the reality of the situation was as grim as the expressions of the knights carrying Merlin's body. Merlin was gone, taking Arthur heart and all of his joy with him, and all that was left for Arthur to feel was somber determination to make at least one thing right: Merlin would be honored and remembered as a king.

The crowd's shocked whispering didn't cease as the procession passed them and made its way towards the thrones, reverently placing the slab in front of the steps to the throne, but they were shocked into silence as Arthur picked up Merlin's body and cradled him gently before carrying him over to the consort's throne and placing him on it with the greatest care.

The court was silenced at the disturbing sight of a limp body sitting in the queen's throne, but horrified gasps shot up from the crowd as the king suddenly turned around to face them, his eyes bloodshot and glaring at them all.

"You, all of you, stood by and let my father do this! And now, you will show your respect to the man you had forsaken. Merlin was everything to me, and I never had any intention to rule without him by my side. Living or dead, if I am king, then so is he."

Arthur slowly made his way back to his own throne and sat down, a picture of royal power. His eyes darted over to Merlin for a second, before shifting back over the crowd. Still, was it just Arthur's desperate imagination, or was there now a slight flush in Merlin's skin that wasn't there earlier?

"Just as you all knelt before me and took an oath of fealty, you will do the same for him. You will give him all of the honor he deserved in life."

At first, the lords in attendance just looked at him in utter disbelief, but the fierce glare Arthur sent them confirmed that the king was being entirely serious. Slowly, each of the lords knelt before the consort's throne, not daring to look up at the disturbing sight before them, and recited their oaths of fealty, feeling the king's burning gaze on them all the while.

Finally, after all of the lords had taken their oaths, a pale Geoffrey presented Arthur with the consort's crown, a treasure that had not been seen by anyone since Ygraine's passing. Arthur gingerly lifted the crown and made his way over to Merlin.

As he stepped closer, Arthur wanted to weep. Perhaps it was some cruel trick his mind was playing on him, put it looked like Merlin's color had returned to him, making him appear like he was only sleeping, like he would wake up and everything would be fine again.

Taking a steadying breath to hold his tears at bay, Arthur finally stepped right in front of Merlin, holding the crown over his motionless head. It wasn't fair, Arthur decided. It wasn't fair that Arthur had finally become king, was finally in a place where he could openly profess his love for Merlin, but Merlin wasn't here by his side to see it!

Still, he could let everyone else see his love for Merlin. Slowly, he lowered the crown onto Merlin's head, letting rest on his limp head. Arthur took a shaking step back, trembling with rage and grief as he looked at Merlin, bedecked in royal robes and wearing the crown that Arthur had always longest to give him. Arthur's own mind still mocked him, making Merlin look almost alive again, like he was only sleeping, when Arthur when that Merlin was gone, and all that was left of him was this pale, empty shell and a terrible hollowness in Arthur's chest where his heart was supposed to be.

Arthur tenderly gasped Merlin's chin, tilting his head up to face him. This was goodbye, Arthur knew it. After this, Merlin would be laid to rest with all the honors of a king, and Arthur would be left ruling over his kingdom alone and heartbroken for the rest of his days. With tears flowing freely down his face, Arthur leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Merlin's lips. Once again, Arthur's mind took pity on him, as he could swear that Merlin's lips were warm with life under his own.

Arthur drew back, gazing at his love's face for what might be the last time, attempting to commit every minute detail to memory, such that Merlin's likeness would never fade from his mind even as the years went by. As Arthur eyes scanned over Merlin's face, however, there was one thing that struck him as odd before his mind caught up to what he was seeing and his heart, which had felt cold and frozen fir days, started beating at a frantic rhythm.

Because Merlin's eyes were open.

(Yes, Merlin was immortal the whole time, but his magic was just taking a while to heal him lol!)

And that's all for now! I hope you all enjoyed this au! Let me know if you'd like to see a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin au #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin prompts

200 notes · View notes

sukunasteeth · 5 months ago

Text

The Pleasure's All Mine - Chapter One

Based on this post from @winterrbluess

If Shibuya had a pulse, it would be at the rate of a hummingbird's wings.

The human race operates at a speed that oftentimes seems too quick to catch up with. It had been that way ever since you moved to the city for work about three years ago.

You came for a corporate job made up of ink black suits and pencil skirts, smiles that felt more on the side of uncanny valley than they did of genuine kindness, and handshakes from skin cold with carpal tunnel. You lived a corporate life. Everything is muted tones of tan and relies heavily on the concept of "modernizing". You wake up, go to work, go home, work on what you couldn't finish at the office, fall asleep on your colorless coffee table, and wake up to your alarm going off what feels like hours too soon. It was a cyclical cycle.

And the day you broke it, happened to be the day you met Sukuna.

You noticed the new shop on the end of the street maybe three weeks ago. It was so out of place, after all. The building was the only non-skyscraper to be seen on the block. It was a shriveled up little thing, built out of chipping brick that seemed to teeter on the edge of dilapidation from the inability to meet building codes. Overgrown ivy crawled up the sides of it and it still had plots of dirt in the front for planting as opposed to concrete and metal benches.

When you had first seen the For Sale sign a few months ago, you were sure they were going to tear it down and pave over it- happy to be rid of the only spot of character left in the business district. Then a new sign appeared over the door, one that looked hand carved out of wood and haphazardly painted over so that you could make out the words "Carnation King".

It’s funny, flowers had never been much of an interest to you. You had seen them as just another task to take care of when you returned home after a long day. Even filling a vase with water always sounded like more effort than it was worth. But as the days blend together from monotony, you find yourself desperate for color.

You changed your walking route to work so that you can pass by the shop everyday. You knew nothing about flowers. You could barely tell a rose bud apart from a tulip, but that didn't stop you from ogling at the new bouquets and potted plants that lined the sidewalk every time you passed them. Signs made out of toothpicks and painters tape said words like “Butterfly Ranunculus” and “Brown-Eyed Susan” and learning their names became one of your favorite things to do. You never stepped foot inside, and yet the flower shop was now one of your happy places.

You would meander by on your lunches and watch the butterflies play. You would walk by in the morning and smell freshly watered earth still hanging in the air. On your way home, when the sun was at its fullest shine, you would walk beneath the misters hung under the lip of the roof, and the coolness of the water droplets left behind on your skin saw you all the home.

You hadn’t realized how important the flower shop was to your daily routine until the day it was interrupted.

It happened to be one of the only days you had been forced by your workload to stay past sunset for overtime. You didn’t do it for the money, you did it because your boss had asked you nicely. But as you finally exit the office building for the night, you find yourself regretting staying so late.

You hated walking home in the dark. Even though Japan was notorious for its low crime rates, that didn't mean it was an innocent city. After 9pm, your street was notorious for being a ghost town. The only signs of life were the few work martyrs left in their floor to ceiling window offices- acting as makeshift streetlights. There were only a few lights on the way home, and their solidarity only seemed to pronounce the darkness along the rest of the empty roadside. When you were just an intern, before you got better hours and were finally promoted to the shining 9-5 that everyone dreams about, you used to take your heels off and sprint back to your apartment. Always weary of what you couldn’t see. At the time, you didn’t know that the scariest people don’t have to hide in the dark.

You hadn’t planned on walking past the shop that night. It was closed. It had to be. Normal flower shops closed well before 7 pm let alone 9. But the moment you touch the sidewalk outside your building, you see light glowing against the dense night.

The shop at the end of the street was draped in tiny fairy lights. Every square inch of brick was twinkling slowly, glimmering like resting fireflies. It looked almost otherworldly in comparison to the towering pitch black shadows of corporate offices surrounding it. In fact, the effect of the glowing lights against the mirror windows made it look like the shop was hanging in space.

Outside, the flowers you had walked past in the afternoon had been replaced with new pots, overflowing with buds you had never seen before. The usual delicate smell of Honeysuckle and Roses was now one of the sweetest scents you had ever experienced, so sweet, you could almost taste it on your tongue. Warm golden light floods out of the shop's window and the numerous white and yellow petals seem to gather and hold onto its dull shine.

You didn’t even realize you had completely abandoned your original plan of taking the shortcut home until you were standing in front of the Carnation King with your eyes entranced on the display before you. One flower in particular had caught your eye, a huge luscious display of delicate tow-colored petals, tall with endless growth and reaching towards the moonlight as though it’s been waiting all day to see it. You can’t help but reach out to touch, and yet just before your fingertips make it, you feel coolness trickling onto your hand, breaking the spell that the lights and colors had placed on you.

"Evening Primrose."

The suddenness of a voice beside you should have put you in fight or flight mode. It should have been a cold bucket of water to the face. Adrenaline spiking, you should be sprinting in the opposite direction. Instead, you found the tranquil trance that the flowers had put you in to have a lasting effect.

You blink at the man who seemed to appear out of thin air standing next to you, and the first thing you notice are his eyes. Such a dark shade of golden rich hazel-brown, they were nearly shining like two cuts of Cat’s-Eye. They gleamed suspicion.

He was much taller than you, but where most are lanky you can see strong muscles and broad shoulders. Collared sleeves rolled halfway up his arms revealed skin kissed rich and deep by prolonged sunshine. Tattoos slithered around his wrists and had made their way to his sculptured face, meticulously drawn black lines frame an annoyed expression. When you see the rest of him, you’re certainly not expecting to notice tufts from a head of true strawberry blond hair hang in his frigid gaze.

In one of his hands is a water can, still pouring trickling water onto your momentarily petrified fingertips, and in the other hand is a cigarette, only a third of the way lit.

The sight of him takes you so far back, if the sound of his voice wasn’t still echoing in your head you might not have remembered that he had even said anything to you.

"I'm sorry?" You pull your hand away from the water spray, drying it on your slacks.

The man takes half a drag of the cigarette before he answers you. Slow and unrushed. "They're called Evening Primrose.” He speaks through a cloud of tobacco smoke, glancing at the flowers that had caught your eye. His lip twitches slightly, "Need full sunlight but only bloom in moonlight. Fickle bastards."

Okay. Owner. Mean owner. Unexpectedly rough-and-tumble looking for being the caretaker of a flower shop. You glance at his apron, but you don’t find a name tag. He takes a step back while you’re searching for it, but he only moves far enough to start watering the next plant on the table.

You look back to the Evening Primrose, and even the smell of the burning cigarettes is nothing in the face of the scent that had pulled you in earlier. The two flavors mix like a tea garden on fire. You caress the petals once more, unthinkingly.

"They smell incredible." You mutter, mostly to yourself.

"Not them.” His voice is colder than his eyes. He flicks a bit of ash onto the cement behind him, and tilts his head in the direction of a different bush, one that’s even bigger than the healthy Primrose, with hundreds of tiny buds that flutter in the nighttime air. “That'd be her."

"”Her”?" You repeat, wondering if you heard the man correctly.

"Night Jasmine." He answers in return.

As standoffish as he was, you still found yourself making mental notes of the names he had given you. When you look at the Night Jasmine directly, it’s clear that the wind was sweeping that delicious smell straight from the direction of its honey-hued petals. You’re not sure you had seen plants like this at even the most expensive hotels and events that you had been invited to. Maybe tiny cuttings, but nothing to this size and level of lush.

"Well she's very pretty." You reply softly, letting out an airy laugh through your nose at his use of pronouns. The man doesn’t even crack a smile in return, his eyes giving you a pointed once over.

“And invasive.” He adds, resting his gaze on yours once again.

There’s a thick silence that follows after, during which you consider apologizing. For what? You were unsure, but somehow standing in his towering shadow and feeling his accusing eyes had you feeling like you were in the wrong for merely existing in his presence.

Before you can think to just turn around, take off your heels, and sprint home like you had years ago, his voice demands your attention again.

"So,” he says, “you gonna tell me why you’re stalking me, then?"

Now, surely, you were hearing things.

"E-Excuse me?"

He seems to take in your shock with some thought while he takes another languid puff, "You come by here every single day,” He lets the smoke go from his lungs, ”but you never buy a thing. In fact, you never even come in." The tone of his voice tilts towards annoyance. “You just stand at the window and pout like some sad puppy.”

"I-I work in the building next door?" You offer, bewildered by the entire situation. Were you dreaming? Had you fallen asleep at your desk and given yourself some sort of stress-induced nightmare?

"Hmm," The man takes you in without breaking your gaze, tilting his head to the side while he takes another drag of his cigarette. "You don't seem like the pencil pusher type to me."

You’re not sure why that comment makes you defensive. In retrospect, it was even a compliment to you. You hated sitting at a desk all day, watching the sun rise and set over a stack of papers. But you had worked hard to get to the position you were in now and it wasn’t the first time a man had told you that you didn’t look like you belonged. Before you can catch yourself in the name of politeness you find yourself scoffing out, "Sorry, but you don't seem like much of a florist to me."

The silence returns. You watch as the disdainful glint to his eyes shatters, and is replaced with a split second of surprise. He blinks and it’s only then that you realize how much larger this man is in comparison to you. If you had seen him walking down the street, you’d probably think to yourself “I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side” and yet here you were, on his bad-getting-worse side from the moment your eyes met.

Or so you had thought. But, as the antithesis of anger crosses his hardened features, and an unexpected bitten-back grin takes the place of his glower, you’re not sure what to think anymore.

He snorts out a laugh, finally releasing you from the cold grasp of his unbreakable gaze. He takes another step back and focuses his attention on watering the flowers again. "Touche."

The cigarette gets flicked from his fingertips and he smears it beneath his boot into a tiny canal of rocks separating the soil of the garden beds from the cement of the sidewalk.

"So, you gonna buy something then? Or just stand there with that strange look on your face all night?" He tilts his head to mirror your stance, but the amused grin remains in place of your confused gape. “I close in five minutes.”

“I have to hand it to you, you’re a fantastic salesman.” You’ve never met a stranger more brash and uncaring, so you were giving it a shot in return. It only serves to further his easy smiles.

“Am I not offering the right thing?” Now apparently after confirming to himself that you weren’t a threat, his tone of voice seems almost playful. It only serves to further your confusion. “Hmm, a lock of my hair maybe?”

“I am not a stalker!”

“Then buy something.”

You take a deep breath through your nose. Feeling the need to save face when you haven’t done anything wrong in the first place. Yet, the thought of turning away empty handed had embarrassment threatening to heat up your neck and cheeks. You didn't care if you had to drop a pretty penny, you just didn't want to boost this man's ego.

"Those." You point to the nearest flower, another pot of proud blossoms sprouting from a stem unseen past the abundant greenery of strong leaves. Soft moon colored petals unfurl at the top, and sprouting from the center are tiny, deep yellow pollen covered buds.

The man follows your pointed finger and graces your choice with all of one second before he turns back to his watering. "Not those." He decides flatly.

You’ve never made a more difficult purchase. "Why not?"

"Casablanca Lilies need constant care. A white-collar like you couldn't keep up. And I don't raise 'em so people can kill 'em."

"I think I can take care of a plant, thank you." You retort, sarcasm oozing off your sentence.

It seems you can only really catch this man’s attention when your tone has a touch of negativity, because suddenly he’s back to watching you.

There’s a pregnant pause before his next words. He searches nothing but your eyes for a moment, as if to gauge.

"Wanna bet?" He cocks a brow.

And it angers you how handsome you find this annoying, pompous, self-entitled stranger.

"Bet?” You repeat incredulously. “Are you making a sale or trying to fight?”

Instantly, as if you were offering the two scenarios as possible options, his smile darkens and he takes a step forward instead of continuing his line of watering.

That was all the reply you needed. You had seen the movies. The documentaries. Handsome men, provoking women, hungry eyes, it never added up to something good. So that was your que to keep walking straight past him and go home.

“Right, I don’t need this.” You scoff.

And yet, just before you're able to step aside him, like a true businessman, he says just the right thing to keep you there.

"So I'm right then?"

The sound of the droplets from the watering can against the cement in place of your footsteps has you cringing in self-disappointment. You force your head to turn and meet his infuriating amusement.

"What's the bet?" You grind out from clenched teeth. His eyes fall to your mouth, and he takes a pointed second to look at your bite before he steps away from you and back to the place where your interaction began. He reaches beside the huge Evening Primrose bush to reveal a small green potted sapling with the same leaf pattern.

He holds it out to you and you reach out to take the little thing like you’re scared for its safety.

"Come back in two weeks. If it's alive, I'll give you the lilies for free." The calmness in his tone of voice doesn't match the excitement glittering in his dark hazel-brown eyes. "And if it's dead, you owe me." He adds, rather nonchalantly.

"Owe you what?" You squint your eyes at him, maybe then you could see the little horns that match his devilish little grin.

He shrugs, almost too innocently, "A favor. Haven't thought of it yet." The stranger gives you one last once over, but this one leaves the strangest chill running down your spine. His eyes seem to follow it, as if he can see it rattling through you. "Should I? You're so confident you'll win, I didn't think I'd have to."

Now it was your turn to look him up and down, tattoos, scars and a face that seemed too comfortable with that murderous look he had first given you.

"...There's no way you're just a florist."

The comment is completely ignored as he leans forward, invading your airspace a little too close for comfort, and murmuring the words "Yes or no?" with a thick sugar coating.

"You're on." You hope your own words convey your complete disdain for him… and not that tiny glimmer of attraction you feel prickling under your skin.

A surprised laugh seems to escape him, as though he didn't expect you to make the deal. "You're either quite confident in yourself or a damn fool."

Like a rabbit bearing tiny teeth in the face of a lion, you mirror him and lean in closer until there's only a small space between the two of you. "Maybe I just like showing up cocky men."

"Oh, and I'm gonna love a favor from such a mouthy brat." You're lucky he pulls away from you after he practically purrs his threat. There's another thoughtful pause before he reaches into his apron pocket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes again.

"Two weeks. I know where you work too now." He lights another, and examines the cherry after he takes the first drag, smiling like it just told him a joke. “Don’t forget.”

#he loves a challenge #jjk #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #florist!sukuna #modern au #remember when i said halfway done like two thousand words ago?#I guess I lied #hope you enjoy #tuck in it's got chapters #thanks to winterrbluess who inspired this #her florist!sukuna art changed me #love the idea #this one is on a03 now if you're interested #missed you

234 notes · View notes

blasphemousclaw · 3 months ago

Note

Are the omens and hornsent the same?

short answer: no

so to explain why the omen and the hornsent are different, we first have to understand what it means to be hornsent… the hornsent aren’t a species, they’re a civilization of humans defined by the horns that grow on their bodies:

“Hornsent view the Crucible as sacred for the refinement wrought through its evolutionary gifts. Most prominently, their tangled horns.”

“Horns are sublime artifacts to hornsent, and their presence confirms the belief that they are a chosen people. Only the repeated sprouting of fresh horns can create a tangled horn, which is viewed as an irrefutable symbol of primacy.”

“The Crucible has a particularly strong influence on the beasts of the realm of shadow, causing many to grow horns despite the characteristics of their species.”

the hornsent sprout horns because the Crucible has a strong presence in the land of shadow and causes horns to sprout on creatures who don’t normally have horns… the hornsent, who revere the Crucible and its “spiral current,” saw this as a blessing and as proof that they were “a chosen people,” so they cultivated this trait. in hornsent society, the larger and more tangled your horns are, the more awesome and cool and holy you are. this is why Jori, the leader of the theocratic hornsent inquisition, has the largest, most tangled horns of all:

however, hornsent can also be born with no horns at all. this means that they'd be seen as sad and cringe. you can find hornless hornsent bound in chains, which means they might have even been a sort of slave caste... which, given what their society is like, wouldn't surprise me if that were the case:

(source: Zullie the Witch)

the omen, on paper, are the same as the hornsent — humans who were influenced by the Crucible, which caused horns to grow on their bodies. but the reason why they aren’t actually the same is because simply having horns doesn't make you hornsent. again, the hornsent are not a species, and “hornsent” isn’t a generic term for people with horns… the hornsent are a culture, a culture which the omen were very much not born into! unlike the hornsent, the omen were born into a society that sees their horns as impurities:

"A vestige of the crucible of primordial life. Born partially of devolution, it was considered a signifier of the divine in ancient times, but is now increasingly disdained as an impurity as civilization has advanced."

traits associated with the Crucible, including horns, became less and less accepted under the Golden Order as time went on... basically, the omen were seen as impure and unclean, unfit for the Erdtree's grace and excluded from society.

but there's actually something else that makes the omen fundamentally different from the hornsent... they're referred to as having "accursed blood"?

"Warped blade of shifting hue used by Morgott, the Omen King. The accursed blood that Morgott recanted and sealed away reformed into this blade."

"The mother of truth craves wounds. When Mohg stood before her, deep underground, his accursed blood erupted with fire, and he was besotted with the defilement that he was born into."

"Trident of Mohg, Lord of Blood. A sacred spear that will come to symbolize his dynasty. As well as serving as a weapon, it is an instrument of communion with an outer god who bestows power upon accursed blood."

it seems that there is something inherently different about omen blood that doesn't seem to be the case with the hornsent? omen can also innately produce a black-brown flame, which we never see any hornsent enemies do (pretty sure the inquisitors' fire is just normal fire from their candles). INTERESTINGLY, there's two items from the base game, the Omen Bairn and the Regal Omen Bairn, that produce these brown-flame wraiths... but a similar item from the DLC, the Horned Bairn, produces "vengeful spirits" that are pale and colorless!!

it's almost like the wraiths produced by the omen are "unclean" compared to the hornsent ones!

so I think this pretty definitively proves there's something more going on with the omen? but why is this the case?? Dung Eater's ending makes me think that the omen might be "cursed" simply because their existence is incompatible with the Order under the Erdtree...

"Curse grown on a corpse killed and defiled by the Dung Eater. A tender pox afflicted with omen horns. The Dung Eater cultivates the seedbed curse on corpses. By doing so he prevents dead souls returning to the Erdtree, leaving them forever cursed."

"Loathsome rune gestated by the Dung Eater. Used to restore the fractured Elden Ring when brandished by the Elden Lord. The reviled curse will last eternally, and the world's children, grandchildren, and every generation hence, will be its pustules. If Order is defiled entirely, defilement is defilement no more, and for every curse, a cursed blessing."

but there's also the theory that the omen curse was actually created by the dying hornsent as revenge upon their attackers... Hornsent Grandam says this when attacked:

"A curse upon thee, rotten miscreant. A curse upon the strumpet's progeny, upon Marika's children each and all. The curse of the omen shall strike thee down... In the form of the sacred beast's ire. May the curse strike thee… To the very last..."

she specifically calls it the "curse of the omen!" the one thing that makes me question this theory though is that she also says "in the form of the sacred beast's ire," and we know the divine beast's ire takes the form of storms... nothing like anything the omen do. an interesting theory nonetheless!

anyway TL;DR, the hornsent and the omen are different because 1. the hornsent are a culture (not a generic name for horned people), and the omen were specifically born under the Erdtree's Order, and 2. the omen are tangibly "cursed," but the hornsent are not

#elden ring #hornsent #asks #morgott and mohg would've been extra cool and sexy if they had been born in hornsent society tho

185 notes · View notes

sukunasdumbestchef · 1 year ago

Text

way how i see you.

True form!Sukuna x Blind!Fem!reader

꒰You are the one and only wife of the King of Curses, but you don't just have this peculiarity… you are also blind. And painting is your way of painting and trying to represent what you see, even if it's just a little.꒱

Fluff, but cheesy.

BAD ENGLISJ SORRY😭

It was actually a secret… blindness. No one suspected…not even the King, Sukuna Ryomen. You hid it so well.

For obvious reasons, your life changed drastically after your vision got worse, the world around you lost its colors and beauty every day. Your world became just silhouettes moving around, almost colorless and blurred. But, you were aware of some things, just by looking at the silhouettes, you know how to differentiate an animal from a human, or if someone uses hair accessories. You weren't completely blind, but you were blind enough to be considered blind and have difficulties.

Uraume was the first to suspect, they were going to your room to hand over your newly cleaned kimonos. Uraume pushed the door open with an elbow. It was at the same time that you were combing your hair, your room lacked a little light, the candles had run out at the moment. You placed the comb where you thought the table was, but the comb ended up falling. You crouched down, trying to look for the lost comb on the floor, as the comb was clearly next to you. But they did not talked, nor did they mention this to the king.

Sukuna became suspicious when you two were at the table. In an attempt to get the chopsticks, you put your hand in a completely far place. It wasn't your fault, the chopsticks were the same color as the table! You tried again, nervous and hoping your husband wasn't looking at you. You went wrong again, you swallowed hard. You only realized where the chopsticks were when you turned your head drastically.

"…" Sukuna obviously noticed this. So the dots connected in his cruel head: Didn't she see where they were? Maybe… it makes sense, this woman is "strict" with how Uraume serves her food, she asks that the rice be placed in a light-colored bowl, if possible, in a light yellow bowl… and things like that...

"Wife. Are you blind?" Sukuna asked, without further ado. You felt your heart lock… could it be now? The truth?

"Sukuna…I, yes I am blind, please my king forgive me for keeping it a secret!" You soon explained yourself, standing up and crouching in respect. You thought he was angry, but he was surprised. He realized that you were not a silly woman, you are a very smart woman, no one suspected that you were blind… not even the king!

And that's how your life changed, Sukuna didn't even ask and you already explained your condition. You explained that you weren't completely blind, but you made her life difficult. Sukuna, like a husband who doesn't say 'I love you' but would burn the world for you, did everything he could to help you, Uraume helped you more.

You were an artist too, you painted several pictures. First, Sukuna thought they were cute and that was it. However, upon discovering your lack of vision, he began to see your paintings differently… it was you representing the world… through your eyes, how you imagine the colors, from the memory of when you could still see the colors…

Sukuna was stuck, looking at his painting where you had made him. He remembers saying in the past how different their brands were, but now he understands. "I'm more surprised, woman, you actually almost managed to draw my marks… Did you do what you imagined they would look like?" Sukuna asked, you next to him nodded.

"I could see the spots on your wrist, they stand out against your skin. The ones on your face are harder to see…" you explained. Sukuna took you in his arms, you were confused because you didn't expect this all of a sudden. "Sukuna?"

"Um, give me your finger." He took her index finger. Her heart warmed as she felt him trace his marks with his finger. You got closer to his face, getting a better look.

"Wait… you have a mini eye underneath? I thought you only had 3 eyes…" Sukuna smiles.

"It's small." Sukuna replied, getting her down from his arm.

"Oh, Kuna! I need to paint you again!" She said, looking at him with a cute smile. Sukuna saw her pull out a painting, and sit at her desk. Sukuna sat right next to her, very close to her. "Kuna… this tone looks strange, does this pink look like your hair?"

"Yes? I don't understand anything about this color thing… I don't care." You sighed, but started painting. You approached him very closely, to see his features up close. He gives you a peck, "You're so close." He complained, you laughed.

He pulled you onto his lap, so it was easier for you to see him. He felt her soft hand contouring his sharp features. Analyzing, Sukuna held her closer. It was such a rare moment, so warm…

But Sukuna closed his eyes in pain when she accidentally stuck her finger in his eyes. "Stupid, woman. Do you want to make me like you, you bastard?"

"I didn't think it was funny Sukuna, it was by accident…"

"Whatever, get it over with. My ass is going to hurt if I sit here for so long."

"HUSH!"

I have a version of this same theme with a longer story and angsty in the middle… do you want me to post it?

long story version

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jjk x reader #true form sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen

783 notes · View notes

velieditss · 5 months ago

Text

A life for a life

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!reader

Cw: Explicit description of abuse (Not from Aemond to reader) grief, bad dreams of Lucerys death (I mean I cried at that kid like I had birthed him, raised him, and paid for all his bills)

Summary: Once, you were a betrothed, but now, you are a widow and a prisoner. Yet, it seems the regent prince has set his sights on you, a gaze that, in truth, was always there, watching you from the shadows. But only now, at this crossroads in your life, does he feel empowered to claim you as his own.

You were the only one who stayed behind when your family returned to Dragonstone. Your only desire was to keep Helaena company, the only one among the king and queen's children with whom you had formed a bond, a fragile thread of affection in a court where alliances were often brittle.

But you didn’t heed her warning—or perhaps you simply didn’t understand it.

“Leave, or he will claim you,” she had whispered, her voice trembling with an urgency that you failed to grasp.

You certainly didn’t understand.

That very night, your grandfather, the king, died.

You were asleep when it happened, blissfully unaware, only to awaken to a silence so profound it was deafening. No one came to inform you, and when you tried to leave your chambers, you found the doors barred, locking you inside.

It became clear that only one person had remembered your existence when food and water were delivered to you. Desperate for answers, you questioned the servant, only to learn that your grandfather had passed, Aegon had been crowned king in your mother’s stead, and your betrothed, Prince Lucerys, was dead. How, or why, no one would tell you.

Devastated, the full weight of your captivity settled upon you. You long to stop dreaming. You implore the gods that you could cease to dream. You are so exhausted; all you yearn for is sleep. You want to sleep all day, from dawn until twilight, which every evening arrives a little earlier and with a touch more gloom. During the day, all you do is think about sleeping, about him. But at night, all you do is try to stay awake.

All day you keep your face smiling like a mask, smiling, smiling, your teeth bared, your eyes bright, your skin like stretched parchment, paper-thin. You keep your voice clear and soft, you speak words without meaning, and sometimes, when necessary, you even sing. At night you fall into your bed as if you were plunging into deep waters, as if you were sinking into the depths, as if the water were possessing you, taking you like a mermaid, and for a moment you feel a deep relief, as if, submerged in water, your sorrow could drain away, as if it were the Gods eye river and the currents could bring forgetfulness and carry you into the cave of sleep; but then, the dreams come.

You don’t dream of his dead–it would be the worst of nightmares to see your brother bleeding to death, to see him with the pale face typical of a lifeless body and soulless eyes.

You don’t dream any of this, and you thank the Gods for that mercy at least.

But you understood, that if anything he would have wished, it was that you would not live with grief and regret.

You were born a princess and you are the heir to a long line of courageous women.

Even so, you wept until sleep claimed you, and the days began to blur together, each more colorless than the last. You lost the will to eat, to care, for it seemed that no one cared for you. Only a servant came each day to help you wash, but even she never spoke.

Thoughts of escape flitted through your mind—knocking out the servant, or even throwing yourself from the window, the height be damned. But everything changed one night when they dragged you from your bed, giving you no time to comprehend what was happening.

They hauled you through the corridors with such brutality that your arms bore the bruises of their grip.

“What is happening?” you demanded, your voice quivering with fear. “Where are you taking me?”

The soldiers’ hold tightened painfully, making you wince. “The king wishes to see you, so keep your mouth shut.”

As you were led closer to the chambers that had once belonged to your grandfather, you sensed something was horribly wrong. Soldiers were dragging servants away, forcing them toward what seemed to be the dungeons, while you were marched in the opposite direction.

“I’ve done nothing,” you murmured, dread curling in your stomach. “I am a princess; you have no right to treat me like this!”

But your protests fell on deaf ears.

When you reached the king’s door, a cacophony of crashes and furious shouts echoed from within, as though the very foundations of the room were being torn apart.

“I’ll kill them!” a voice roared. “I’ll kill them all! Traitors and villains! How dare they attack me!”

The doors were flung open, and you were shoved to the floor at the feet of a figure who loomed above you.

“Your Majesty…”

“I am the King!”

You raised your head slightly to see Aegon, wild-eyed, smashing something in his hands—a relic of ancient Valyria that had once belonged to Viserys.

“I am the King!” he repeated, and it took several men to calm him, though his rage only simmered as he turned his gaze upon you.

“We’ve brought the traitor, as you commanded.”

A chill swept through you as your eyes met Aegon’s. The fury and madness in his stare made him unrecognizable, a stranger where once there had been a boy you had known all your life.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and hauled you to your feet, his grip so tight it was as though he wanted to crush you with it. His eyes were wild, almost deranged.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” His voice was more of an accusation than a question.

You instinctively placed a hand on his chest as he backed you against the shattered remains of the sculpture he had destroyed.

“You sought revenge in the name of your bastard betrothed.”

You shook your head as his hand closed around your throat, squeezing until you could barely breathe.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked out, struggling to draw air into your lungs.

"Aegon...!" you gasped, but he didn't release you. Your eyes locked with his, desperately trying to convey the truth. You had done nothing, you didn’t even know why he was blaming you. Of all people, he should know that you would be the last to harm them.

But his grip tightened, and as your vision began to blur, you started hitting his arm in a frantic attempt to break free.

With no one stepping in to stop him, you acted out of sheer instinct. You grabbed the nearest object and struck Aegon across the face with all the strength you could muster.

He released you immediately, and you collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching your chest. Only then did the others move, but not against Aegon—against you.

They seized you by the hair, dragging you to your feet, holding you so tightly that escape was impossible.

You were certain you would die there, but you resolved that you would not go down without a fight.

Aegon waved the others away, and without hesitation, he struck again. The blow was so fierce that it knocked the strength from your legs, leaving your ears ringing and your vision blurred. Warm blood trickled down your lips as you struggled to stay conscious.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you braced yourself for the next strike, but it never came.

Slowly, your hearing returned, and with it, your sight. You could make out distant voices—two at first, then more. You were dropped to the cold floor for a third time.

Raising your head, you saw a blurry figure holding Aegon by the throat. The darkness, combined with the dizziness in your head, made it difficult to identify who it was.

You wanted to take advantage of the distraction, to flee, but you had no idea where to go or what to do. You tried to stand, but the ringing in your head grew louder, preventing you from taking more than a single step.

“She is a traitor, and you dare defend her?” you heard Aegon’s voice, but you no longer cared.

You made a second attempt to stand, but this time you did not feel the ground beneath you. Instead, you felt arms encircling your waist with a surprising gentleness, a touch so unexpected that even he seemed taken aback.

When you looked up, you found yourself gazing into the face of the last person you ever expected.

“Aemond?” you asked, needing confirmation.

In the dim light of the night, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, you clung to the one solid thing you had found.

“Don’t try to move anymore,” he said softly, “you’ll only hurt yourself more.”

He guided your arms around his neck and, with no effort at all, lifted you into his arms. You might have resisted, demanded that he put you down, that you retain some shred of dignity after all you had endured, but you were utterly exhausted. Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, and your spirit was shattered. For now, Aemond seemed to be the only one who showed even a flicker of care for you.

••••

You were the only good thing he remembered from his childhood. The only thing that made him smile, the only thing that made him feel human.

Like him, your dragon egg never hatched, but unlike him, you didn’t mind. And it was this indifference that made him begin to notice you. He admired the kindness, fairness, and awareness you displayed effortlessly.

When Aegon mocked him, you defended him; when your brothers teased him, you scolded them. And when the incident at Driftmark occurred, although you weren’t present, you were the only one who wept upon seeing what had happened to him.

You were also the only one who went to see him afterward, when everyone else walked away without consequence. You gave him something no one else did: a hug.

“You’re still handsome,” you said, gently brushing the spot where the stitches had been.

He couldn’t help but blush at your words. Although he pretended not to care, that wound had affected him deeply, just as so many other things had during his childhood.

“It was a fair trade. I lost an eye, but I gained a dragon,” he repeated, echoing the same words he had said to his mother.

You looked at him with sadness because, even though you couldn’t fully understand what he felt, it seemed to you that he repeated those words to convince himself that he shouldn’t feel pity for what he had lost.

“You’re allowed to be sad, you know?” you said, taking his hand and offering a faint smile. “I don’t really know what happened down there, or why my brothers reacted the way they did, or what you did, but... it’s not as simple as you make it out to be, and that’s okay. You’re human, Aemond.”

He remained silent for a few moments, and for the first time, he thought that if he were to cry in that moment, he wouldn’t feel judged but rather comforted by the love and patience you had always shown him. But he didn’t. Despite the trust he had in you, he didn’t want to seem weak in your eyes.

That was the last time you saw him.

But it wasn’t the last time you had contact with him. You always wrote to him and to Helaena, telling them about your daily life, about what made you happy, like the birth of your younger brothers, Aegon and Viserys, and the joy you felt holding their tiny bodies.

For a while, everything was fine. However, little by little, your letters became less frequent until one day they stopped altogether, which made him nervous. It was a feeling he didn’t understand, and it worsened when he found out that you continued to write to Helaena but not to him.

His confusion turned into fury, especially when, at the beginning of your silence, he sent you letters—initially short, barely a paragraph. But when he received no reply, he started sending longer ones, telling you about his day, trying to regain the attention you had once given him without directly asking why you had gone silent. One letter, two, three… ten. But there was no response.

So he stopped trying.

Then, you returned to King’s Landing to defend your brother’s legitimacy after six long years.

You saw him training and noticed how much he had changed. You felt the fear the servants displayed when he was near, how hard and enigmatic he had become. The boy you knew had disappeared, transformed into a man you no longer recognized.

He caught your gaze from below, and for the first time in his life, you looked away. You had never done that before; you always greeted him with a tender smile and warm eyes.

“Why? Why? Why?” he wondered furiously in his mind, as if you could answer him from a distance.

You were walking towards the throne room to witness Vaemond Velaryon’s petition when someone intercepted you, grabbing your hand and making you turn with a gasp.

You parted your lips slightly upon meeting Aemond’s cold gaze. He was much taller than you now, his face had gained firmer features, and the strength he had acquired was evident, perhaps thanks to his training. Even his skin had taken on a more bronzed tone from all those days outdoors. The patch covering his missing eye made him look even more imposing.

“Do I look like a criminal to you, or why are you running from me?” he asked bluntly, without so much as a greeting or an apology for interrupting you and grabbing you.

“We’re going to be late,” was all you said, trying to free yourself from his grip.

However, he didn’t let go, as if his hand on your wrist was a chain binding you to him.

You looked at him again, silently pleading with him not to persist. He remained silent, watching you with a depth that, for the first time, you couldn’t interpret.

Then he let out a short laugh and released you, causing you to cover your wrist with your other hand.

Your heart ached because, although you had sworn to keep your distance from him, you knew you were being unfair.

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, but you bit your lower lip, feeling the truth gnawing at you inside.

“Did you do it?” you asked in a whisper, turning back to face him.

He looked at you, not understanding.

“Do what?” You nervously fidgeted with your hands, a gesture he hated. He could find satisfaction in everyone else’s fear of him, but in you, and only in you, he despised it.

“Did you try to kill them?” you finally asked. “Did you try to kill my brothers? Is that why Luke attacked you with a knife?”

He clenched his hands into fists, connecting the dots. Was that why you had stopped writing to him? Why you were ignoring him?

You couldn’t bear to see how his face filled with a rage you had never seen in him before, a rage that sent shivers down your spine. You lowered your gaze, waiting for an answer.

However, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

He expected this from everyone, but not from you.

The only woman he had placed on a pedestal, the only one who had taught him that love could be given willingly, not out of obligation.

“Is that what they told you?” he murmured, struggling with an internal conflict that seemed to hurt him, even make him feel betrayed. “And you believed them?”

You closed your eyes, and seeing him like this made you begin to doubt your convictions.

However, Jace, Luke, even Baela and Rhaena, had sworn it to you on their lives. You knew that, of all people, Jace and Luke would never lie to you. So yes, your judgment was clouded by the oaths of the people you loved most.

“Then tell me, tell me what happened that day, tell me you didn’t break Luke’s nose and try to hit Jace with a rock.”

Silence seemed to flood everything like an overwhelming tide.

“They attacked me,” he asserted in a solemn tone, one that left no room for doubt or questioning. “All four of them came to attack me.”

He didn’t deny it, and that was the first thing you noticed.

“And why? Why would four children come to attack you?” You didn’t accuse him of anything, you simply asked, though you already knew the answer; you wanted to hear it from his lips.

“That doesn’t justify what they did to me,” he said, with an expression that broke your heart. Though you already knew, you had hoped your brothers were mistaken.

“No, it doesn’t justify it,” you responded. “But neither does it justify what you said to them, nor how you insulted them, because the moment that word left your lips, you insulted me too. The moment you struck them, you struck me as well. And when they hurt you, they hurt me too.”

You had to swallow hard to keep your eyes from filling with tears.

“I will never forgive what they did to you, and my heart breaks to see that the boy I once loved… suffered and changed so much, to the point where I no longer recognize him.” Your voice trembled as his eyes pierced through you, reaching the deepest part of your soul. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to them either.”

You sighed and took his hand.

“And they are my brothers… I had to choose.”

A tear slid down your cheek, one that carried so many emotions, so much meaning.

You let go of him, ready to leave him behind and head for your mother’s arms. You just wanted to reach her.

However, you felt a pull, gentler this time, less abrupt. One that forced you to face him again.

Then, something you thought impossible happened: in his eyes, you once again saw the boy you remembered, that boy with a sad but determined gaze, who tried to be strong, though he had a brave and simple heart. That boy who made your heart race, who made you want to see him day and night, the one who, despite the differences in your lives, always seemed to understand you.

And then, in an unexpected and overwhelming moment, his lips sought yours. There was no hesitation, no moment of doubt. It took you by surprise, but instead of pulling away, you found yourself responding with the same intensity. The air between you seemed to evaporate as the heat of his body enveloped yours.

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of unleashed passion and tenderness you hadn’t anticipated. Your hands, which at first had frozen in the air, moved of their own accord—one tangled in his hair, the other gripped his back, feeling the taut

His kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a blend of overwhelming passion and an unexpected tenderness. Your hands, which had initially frozen in mid-air, moved of their own accord—one tangling in his hair, the other clutching at his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath the fabric of his clothing.

Aemond kissed you with a fervor you had never known, as if each kiss was a confession, a longing, a broken promise he tried to mend with every brush of his lips. The need that enveloped you was so overwhelming that you almost lost sense of everything except him. His lips were soft yet firm, his breath warm as it mingled with yours, evoking in you a visceral reaction you had never expected.

Your lips moved in sync with his, responding with a passion that surprised you, a passion that seemed to come from the deepest part of your being. It was a kiss that spoke not just of desire but of all the unexpressed emotions, all the words that had never been spoken.

Then, almost painfully, you became aware of where you were, of the danger of being discovered. With a tremendous effort, you gently pushed him away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, the echo of his touch still vibrating on your lips.

You brought your hand to your lips, still feeling the ghost of his touch, unable to believe what had just happened. He looked at you, breathing heavily, his eyes darkened by a mix of emotions that pierced through you like lightning. For a moment, your heart hesitated, tempted to fall once more into the abyss that had opened between you.

But then, you heard voices approaching, reminding you of where you were and the situation you were in. Aemond seemed to realize it too, and his gaze filled with a mix of frustration and something deeper that you didn’t dare to name. In that instant, he had the impulse to demand, to claim you.

Even so, you knew you had to pull away, that you couldn’t allow yourself to fall deeper into temptation.

Without a word, you turned your back on him, ready to leave, though the truth burned in your chest. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t let this happen again, that you would turn your feelings for him into a cold, forgotten stone.

And it was all for one reason.

In the audience, when asked about the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra's children, King Viserys announced his consent for the marriage between Jacaerys Velaryon, Rhaenyra and Laenor’s eldest son, heir to the throne after his mother, and Baela Targaryen, Daemon and Laena’s eldest daughter. Likewise, following tradition, Lucerys Velaryon, the second son and Corlys’s heir, would marry you.

Aemond’s reaction was immediate and palpable; the fury burning in his eyes was visible in every fiber of his being. It was a fury born not just of frustration, but of disdain and the contempt he felt.

The sky darkened as if aware of the contempt, fury, and slight that the queen’s third son felt. A feeling that clouded his judgment the next day and led him to commit the gravest of sins, unleashing the consequences that would follow.

Masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #reader #hotd #life for a life #velieditss

152 notes · View notes

iiseult · 7 months ago

Text

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒥𝑒𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓂

CWs → fluff, angst, suggestive content, historical inaccuracies, slow burn, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, eventual smut (once reader and baldwin are both over 18), leprosy, time-period accurate sexism, one-sided pining

Wordcount: 3.1k

Note: I asked if you guys preferred to have more frequent updates with shorter chapters or slower updates with longer chapters, and the three people that responded wanted more frequent updates so here we are. Please reblog if you enjoy because the second chapter didn’t do very well and I don’t want this series to die off before it even begins! EL OH EL!!

The issue of an heir, or the lack thereof, had been solidly squared away by Baldwin within three months of your marriage, so that you never had to speak a word on the matter. He told his mother that despite “frequent attempts” on both your parts, you could not be made with child on account of his inadequate health. Of course no such attempts were ever made, but that knowledge was something that stayed solely between the two of you. By that point everybody in the royal court had suspected as much anyway, and with the news of his leprosy having recently been confirmed, it was accepted with very little noise. Nobody spoke to you of it, likely afraid to broach the topic, except for Baldwin’s mother, who offered you her sympathies and prayers, which you publicly accepted and privately rejected. Though she had finally relented in her feelings of ill will toward you, they had apparently been replaced with feelings of nothingness, so you continued to resent her until her death the following year.

Meantime, you concerned yourself with adjusting to life as a queen and worked on becoming familiar with the kingdom, and Baldwin left you very much alone. He was a positively mysterious figure, seemingly doing his utmost to stay out of your way and to avoid contact with you altogether. Occasionally you did see him haunting the corridors of the castle like a faceless apparition in his colorless robes and hidden expression, but he never spoke to you, so in turn you did not speak to him. For the most part it did not bother you, but you sometimes childishly wished for his company, though it likely wasn’t his direct company you were wishing for but rather the company of any such equal. However you did miss the fluttery feeling he used to be able to stir in your breast with his charming words and noble actions. Somewhat successfully, you pushed those immature notions away and hoped they wouldn’t return.

Despite your loneliness, you were constantly surrounded by Matilda and Amelia, the latter whom you’d come to rather like and regard as something of a sister. And if she was the sister, Matilda was the mother.

Matilda perpetually accompanied you on your explorations of the city, helping you navigate the narrow alleyways and bustling streets and showing you which unsavory characteristics were the surefire marks of a swindler. That you favored the market streets above all else was immediately evident to her, so teaching you to spot dishonest merchants and avoid giving them your business was one of her top priorities. Most of your time in the city was, in fact, spent shopping. You admired the handmade wares being peddled at every corner and ignored the incessant voices imploring you to come this way or go that way so they could sell you something. It was all very amusing and enticing to you.

Each time you requested it you were allotted certain amounts of money from the king to spend at your whim, collected and delivered to you by various servants, and he was more generous than anyone ever expected. With this allowance, you were able to purchase rolls of richly-colored fabrics to be made into dresses, endless supplies of ink and parchment, pottery covered in artwork so detailed it could have only been done by a single paintbrush hair, any number of books that appealed to you, and numerous tapestries hand-woven with shining threads that depicted biblical scenes or mythical creatures, such as unicorns or dragons. These you hung in your own bedchamber. But perhaps the most magnificent of all your purchases was the very first one you ever made, which occurred during your second week. You had emptied your coin purse for it, quite literally turned it upside down on the merchant’s stand, gold coins rolling here and there for him to chase after. Matilda strongly disapproved and urged you not to make the purchase because she thought the piece too fanciful and mature for such a young lady, but you silenced her with an icy glance and there was henceforth no more talk of the subject.

It was a sapphire ring. The band was thick and gold, adorned by intricate flowing patterns, and the stone was inlaid securely between four strong prongs. For a second you figured it could become a family heirloom and be passed down onto your children, but then you remembered that the prospect of you ever having children was unlikely at best and a small twinge of disappointment tugged at your heart. So you decided it would be best to get as much enjoyment out of the thing as possible and from then on you wore it proudly everywhere and on every occasion, regardless of Matilda’s disapproving glances.

The people of Jerusalem found their new queen just as mysterious and elusive as they had once found their king. Seeing a member of their royal family out in public had become an oddity over the years of Baldwin’s reign, and yet you were there at least twice a week, speaking in some romantic foreign tongue to your servants. Many of your subjects spoke only Arabic or Greek and could not recognize your French when they heard it. But the thing most contributing to the air of mysteriousness surrounding you actually had nothing to do with you personally; it was more so the fact that nobody ever expected the king to marry. Your indisputable beauty only contributed to the confusion. There had been rumors about Baldwin’s illness for years now, and the fact that his face was always covered by a mask led most everyone to believe that he must have suffered some hideous facial disfigurement as a result. This begged the question, how could such a beautiful young woman willingly marry such a horrifying person?

Baldwin took his meals in his bedchamber and also conducted all business out of it. To you he was evasive and sightings of him were rare, limited to perhaps once a month. In the first four weeks after the wedding night, you saw him twice, maybe thrice.

You had been in the chapel, kneeling at the altar and praying with your head bent and a cloth covering it, when he silently slipped into the room completely unbeknownst to you and took up prayer only a few feet away. After a moment you looked up and saw him with a start, having expected to see someone there, but not expecting to see him. His head was bowed, and his blond tresses fell over his face, hiding it from you, but you could still see his lips moving silently in prayer. When he was finished he quickly crossed himself and turned to fix his gaze on you, apparently having decided to go maskless that day. You stared, chest rising and falling heavily as you tried to recover from the shock with a hand clasped over your heart, willing it to stop its wild thumping. His blue eyes twinkled in amusement as your cheeks flushed and you felt a little anger at him for being entertained by you, but if he noticed this, he didn’t show it. He gazed at you for a time, eyes remaining kind but impassible, before he evidently decided he’d had enough and stood, walking out of the chapel without a single word ever passing between the two of you.

Again you saw him one afternoon after returning from the city with Matilda. You had purchased the last remaining volume of a book whose other parts were already in the library, and seeked to put it in its rightful place on the shelf. Baldwin had been in the library playing chess with Raymond at the time, as he had been for the better part of the day, and he muttered something to the man softly when you walked in and hastily curtseyed to them. His eyes followed you across the room to where you stopped in front of a towering bookshelf. You let your head drop back against your shoulders and sighed, seeing that you would have to somehow reach the very top shelf. You’d have to find the ladder, or else find a servant who would replace the book for you. As you turned around, he appeared right behind you, blue eyes twinkling in that same mild-mannered way and holding his gloved hands out.

Without speaking he seemed to say “allow me”, and it was so bewitching that you complied immediately without a thought, dropping the heavy volume into his outstretched hands. You watched, enchanted, in silence as he reached up to the top shelf, straining even at his impressive height, and slid the leather-bound volume into place. Again you curtseyed and bowed your head in thanks, peering up at him through your lashes. He continued smiling and only nodded once before retreating to his chess game, so you followed suit and returned to Matilda’s side.

A strange anxiousness had seemed to overcome you, and you spent the rest of the day lying on your fainting couch drinking wine and trying to keep your mind from conjuring up images of him. How had he known which books the volume belonged with? How could he know? But by the time night fell and Matilda was gathering you against her chest to help walk you to bed, your regular spirited countenance had returned, and the period of brooding had reached its end.

There was one other time in that first month you thought you might have seen him, but for all you knew, it could have been a trick of the candlelight.

After a particularly heavy dinner of lamb, bread, and pudding, you had been dragging yourself wearily to bed when out of the corner of your eye, you saw something white and fluttering behind you. You turned to see what or whom it was, but of course it was gone by then, vanished into thin air. You hadn’t dared peer around the corner, deciding it was better not to know. But the fluttering white thing had almost certainly been his robe, and that notion didn’t leave your mind for the rest of the night, nor did it really ever. It was something you always remembered and often thought of for no particular reason.

In the second month you saw him even less frequently, only catching a few glimpses here and there, and the instances seemed more spaced apart. He was seldom alone, but even if he had been you doubted you’d have the courage to speak to him, and God only knows what you’d speak of. Perhaps some interesting tidbit of news from the city or some morsel of gossip, as it were. However the opportunity never presented itself.

In the third month you saw him but once, on the eve of your fifteenth birthday. He had been returning from the city on his white horse with a retinue of servants, many more than would be necessary for any other royal figure, but perhaps they were worried he’d have a spell of illness.

You had been awaiting his return by the window of the East tower with your embroidery for hours, hoping to discover something interesting about his little trip. Earlier in the day you’d heard a few of your maids murmuring about the king’s sudden decision to visit the city for the first time in almost a year. They wondered what the occasion was and then so did you. As he rode past the great stone wall surrounding the castle and disappeared into the stables beyond your line of sight, you concluded that there was truly nothing remarkable to see and that all your waiting had been in vain, so you promptly went to bed.

On the morning of your fifteenth birthday you awoke to see a package of brown parchment on your bedside table, bound with a shining silken bow of royal blue. The color was a gift in and of itself, for you very well knew how costly blue dye was. A tingle of excitement ran through your veins as you lifted the package onto your lap, carefully pulling the bow loose and setting it aside for later; it would make a lovely accessory. Then, holding your breath, you slid your fingers along the seam of the parchment and unfolded it to reveal an unremarkable wooden box, smooth and cool to the touch. But inside the box, to your utter shock and speechlessness, was a treasure unlike any other you’d ever laid eyes upon.

It was a necklace, made of heavy, sparkling chains of gold, and set in the middle of the large circular pendant was a perfect sapphire. It was cut expertly and you could see your own awestricken reflection, tinted blue in tiny identical rooms on each flat face. The gemstone was heavy and you understood the need for such a substantial chain as you hung it around your neck, barely able to tear your eyes away from it to read the note that was placed underneath it in the box.

“To match your ring,” it simply said.

Though there was no signature, you knew who it was from. Only a king could afford such a thing. And the deep blue color of the jewel was so familiar to you, it must have been the exact same shade as the one in your ring. You held up the ring next to the necklace, which was resting on your bosom, and looked in the mirror for comparison, and sure enough they were identical in color, though the stone in the ring was much smaller. It was only the size of a thumbnail whereas the necklace’s stone was an honest to god rock, a bit smaller than your palm.

While you stared at yourself in the sapphire’s glassy surface, you came to realize two things; one, you didn’t have any idea when Baldwin’s birthday was, and two, both gemstones were very similar in color to that of the eyes of your husband. You thought perhaps that was what drew you to the ring in the first place, that familiar feeling you got when looking at that color.

Later in the morning when Amelia dressed you, you showed her the necklace and her pupils widened so much that you could no longer see the gray of her irises. She carefully placed it around your throat, adding the finishing touch to your appearance. Then you asked her when Baldwin’s birthday was.

“September 16th, Your Majesty. It was a few months before your wedding. He does not celebrate, or at least he hasn’t for very many years. But the parties used to be ever so wonderful…” she trailed off, no doubt reminiscing on the great royal get-togethers of her youth.

Again something clicked in your mind which you found a bit surprising. Though Baldwin had only seen you a handful of times since the wedding and up close only twice, he had apparently noticed your ring and managed to commit to memory nearly its exact shade of blue. You further realized that he had gone out of the palace the day prior for the purpose of procuring this gift. How did he know your birthday, you wondered.

You stared down at your ring, which was glinting ceaselessly against your finger as if it was trying to tell you something. Sapphires, you thought, September. And then it made sense. The stone of September was, in fact, a sapphire. That was Baldwin’s stone. The stone of loyalty and honesty. And the two sapphires you now possessed, both bought with his money, would certainly become heirlooms. Perhaps you would have them pass them onto Baldwin’s young nephew upon your death, for it would be too much a shame to bury them with you and keep them from sparkling in the light of the sun the way they were meant to.

You wanted to thank him but you just didn’t know how.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Baldwin had become something of a private investigator, as it were, and his focus was you. He wanted to keep his distance because he was afraid of upsetting you, so he tried to revert to his original plan of leaving you completely to your own devices and not interfering, but it soon proved impossible for him. Like a fool he had gotten his hopes up, just to have them come crashing down around him on his wedding night. He thought you could have been the perfect person to rule side-by-side with even if you did have a lot to learn. He thought you could have loved him even if it ended up being true that he could not provide you with an heir. He thought that you could have loved him, and that was his mistake, but he had already fallen in love with you.

He could not keep away from you but he could not be with you, so he compromised and went near you only when you did not know. It was not invasive, however, and he never wanted to breach your privacy. It was just little things. He would lurk in corridors he knew you would walk through in hopes of catching snatches of conversations between you and one of your servants. He had Amelia collect pieces of personal information about you and report back to him, which was undoubtedly how he found out your birthday.

One day he followed you into the chapel and made like he was praying so he could sit next to you, if only for a moment. The warmth that spread in his breast in those few moments of closeness with you was enough to sustain him for a few more weeks.

Even more painful than his raw leprous skin was the pain of seeing you smiling and conversing with people who were not him, to see you dressing in fine gowns and jewelry and going to dinner with people who were not him. To not be with you was the most painful thing he knew. For the woman he felt such tender things for to not even know the half of it. So with every month that passed he withdrew more, knowing that every time he left his chambers he risked running into you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Quietly he opened your bedroom door, knowing you had to be sleeping at such a late hour, and you were. The pale light of the moon made your face look almost mask-like in sleep. Your delicate eyelashes were pressed to your cheeks, those cheeks he wished so badly to kiss. The desire to be near you, he thought as he gently placed the brown parchment package on your bedside table, was one day going to kill him.

#baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #baldwin iv one shot #baldwin of jerusalem #kingdom of heaven fluff #kingdom of heaven fandom #the leper king #koh fandom #koh

147 notes · View notes

gnocchibabie · 5 months ago

Text

The Realm's Tragedy

Chapter 3 - Wooden Dragons

aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!oc

previous chapter --- masterlist --- ao3

Summary: Maevys Targaryen is born into a kingdom overshadowed by calamity. With her mother Aemma Arryn gone, King Viserys consumed by grief, and Princess Rhaenyra adrift in sorrow, young Maevys finds herself at the heart of a fractured family. As she emerges from the shadows of tragedy, she must navigate the delicate balance between the remnants of a broken lineage and the impending storm of a new era.

As the dragons dance, the princess must learn to accept an unforgiving truth: All Must Choose.

Wordcount: 3.5k

116 AC – King’s Landing

The floor of King Viserys I Targaryen’s chambers had become a mess of wooden toys and sprawling little children. The chamber, normally a sanctuary of solemnity and regal decorum, had transformed into a lively playground.

His offspring had been sequestered to the confines of the chamber for the time being, free to play as long as they did not touch their father’s beloved replica of King’s Landing. This miniature kingdom, a marvel of intricate craftsmanship, stood on a pedestal away from the bustling chaos, guarded by the vigilant eyes of several of Alicent Hightower’s handmaidens.

Maevys Targaryen sat at the center of the chamber, next to her younger brother Aegon. Encircling the children were about a dozen wooden figurines carved in the shape of elephants, knights, wolves, princesses, and stags. The sibling’s favored toys however, were the little wooden dragons, painted in vivid red and golden and green hues.

Helaena Targaryen, the youngest of the trio, sat just outside the circle of play, her violet eyes twinkling with quiet curiosity. She gently caressed a dragon figurine she had claimed as her own, watching the make-believe of her brother and sister unfold before her.

Maevys’ scrawny hands gripped the carving of a pale, almost colorless dragon, waving the toy around in the air wildly. The dragon’s paint, though simple, seemed to come alive with her imagination.

“Whoosh Aegon! Woooooossshhh.” The little girl mimicked the sound of rushing air as she swept the dragon down over the line of knights that her brother had so carefully set up.

“Ahhhhh!” Aegon wailed dramatically as he knocked over his squad of little knights, seemingly toppled by the gust of wind that his sister’s dragon unleashed.

“You’ll pay for that!” The little prince retorted, taking a golden toy dragon into his hand. Helaena’s giggles floated through the air, mingling with the imaginary roars and fire-breathing sounds as the two dragons clashed in an aerial battle. The room was filled with the symphony of their laughter, their voices blending into a melody of childhood joy and competition.

“Dracarys!” Maevys bellowed, her Valyrian pronunciation still rough but filled with the authority of a battle commander. Her voice rang out with such intensity that it startled the lady servants, who exchanged amused glances.

“It’s over Aegon, you’re dead now.” Her voice a mix of playful pride and unwavering certainty, signaling the end of their play battle and crowning herself as the triumphant victor.

The boy prince looked up to his older sister, eyes wet with tears and lower lip protruding in a pout, “No! You always win!” The beginnings of a tantrum began to bubble within the toddler, threatening to spill over and consume the entire room.

A handmaiden swiftly intervened, dabbing away Aegon’s tears as Maevys fiddled with her dragon. She was about to call her brother a “crybaby” when a knock echoed at the chamber door.

The woman left the three siblings once more to investigate the interruption. Aegon appeared calmer, only sniffling now as he looked to his sisters with wide purple eyes.

Maevys finally gave in, knowing she would earn herself a scolding if she did not make-up with her brother. “...M’sorry Aegon…” she mumbled, offering the little boy her toy dragon.

Aegon’s eyes lit up at that, hastily taking the dragon from her little hand.

Around them, Alicent’s ladies began to speak amongst themselves, seemingly abuzz by whatever the reason had been for the knock upon the door.

One of them, returning from her errand, gathered the children with gentle urgency. “Let’s go, children,” she said, lifting Helaena into her arms with practiced ease. “It’s time to meet your new brother.”

Aegon was on his feet in an instant, his previous discontentment replaced with eager enthusiasm. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” the prince exclaimed, dragging another servant by the hand as she insisted he slow down and wait for his sisters. The prince had been brimming with excitement ever since Alicent told her children they would soon have another little brother or sister. Aegon himself had made it known to anyone who would listen that he was hoping for a brother. He seemed to have his fill of sisters with Helaena, Maevys, and rare appearances from Rhaenyra.

Maevys rose to her feet, secretly pocketing the pale dragon that Aegon had discarded in his excitement. Growing impatient, her brother took one of her hand’s into his remaining free one and pulled her along to the door.

“Come on Mae!” he whined.

The little princess herself would be satisfied with either outcome of a younger brother or sister, so long as they would play with her. Aegon, her favored playmate, was not only imaginative but also unafraid to engage in rough-and-tumble games��something the other children at court were often discouraged from doing. Unbeknownst to Maevys, this was because the lords and ladies had gone out of their way to instruct the children to do so.

Now at 4 years old, Maevys was still a wisp of a child. Smaller than others her age, thinner even more so. The girl was known to be prone to bouts of the illness that followed her into this world, latching onto her as she was pulled from her mother. On several occasions, Maevys had been racing around the winding halls of the Red Keep with Aegon when she would feel a fluttering of her rapid heart. She would stop behind her brother, gasping for breath as her surroundings started to blur.

Other times, the princess would stroll through the castle gardens or the Godswood with her elder sister Rhaenyra, begging her to share stories that ranged from her days as a young princess to moments high in the sky atop Syrax. In the midst of reveling in her sister's memories, Maevys would feel a great wave of fatigue wash over her like heavy rainfall. Rhaenyra could feel Maevys slipping away from her then, and would look down to see the little girl crouched to the ground below, as though walking another step was too great a task. She would carry her sister back to her room, tucking her into bed and ordering her to rest. Oftentimes, Maevys could not even muster the strength to protest, and would drift off into a sleep filled with dreams where she could run and climb and play for as long as she pleased.

“Hurry!” Aegon exclaimed as the parade of Targaryen children, accompanied by their servants, descended down the corridor, with Aegon excitedly leading the charge.

“Prince Aegon, slow down!” A particularly weary looking handmaiden chided.

Her pleas did not slow the boy, who rounded a corner and flew down the flight of stairs leading to his mother’s chambers. Before anyone had the chance to stop him – or even keep up with him – Aegon threw open the door.

“Mummy!” the prince proclaimed, announcing their arrival.

Maevys followed behind, her excitement tempered by a quiet anticipation. Helaena, nestled securely in the arms of her attendant, looked around with wide, curious eyes.

Alicent Hightower lay in bed, a thin sheen of sweat gracing her forehead. Clad in a thin night shift and robe, her auburn hair was neatly woven into a loose braid. Maevys looked at the woman and noticed she looked quite exhausted, though she did not fully understand why.

Viserys was perched next to his wife, his gaze tender as he looked at the swath of cloth nestled in her arms. He looked up a moment to acknowledge Aegon, and then his eyes finally landed on Maevys, a smile breaking across his face.

Upon hearing a small cry, the princess’s attention was redirected to the swath of cloth that was nestled into the Queen’s arms.

Was that it? The baby?

“Come here children, come meet your brother.” The King ushered the siblings over with a wave of the hand.

Aegon, who didn’t need to be told twice, came running over to his mother’s bed. The little boy pushed himself atop the plush covers, crawling up next to Alicent.

“Careful, Aegon,” the Queen's voice was gentle, though tinged with fatigue. “Be gentle. This is Aemond.”

Helaena was placed beside Aegon, her violet eyes peering down with a mixture of wonder and curiosity. The sight of the tiny, sleeping babe seemed to capture the imagination of the two older siblings, who stared in silent awe.

“Aemond,” his brother echoed in a whisper, testing out the name for himself.

Maevys stayed rooted in her spot across the room, unsure if she was truly welcomed into the intimate moment. Aegon and Helaena were her brother and sister, but Alicent was not her mother.

The princess was only a girl of four, but she understood well enough that her true mother was gone – dead. She’d heard it in wistful whispers from her father, when he would tuck her into bed some nights and thinking she was asleep, whisper to a woman called, “Aemma.” When she wandered into her elder sister’s room, seeking solace from boredom, she would ask about this elusive woman. Rhaenyra’s eyes would momentarily cloud over, then clear as she spun tales of their mother’s gentle nature, a woman the princess had never known.

It was hard – being a motherless daughter.

“Come here, my girl.” The voice of her father roused Maevys from her position, small footsteps echoing off of the stone floor until she stopped at the foot of the bed.

Alicent looked over the girl with a surprising softness. Maevys had always been cautious around the Queen. Perceptive as she was, it was not lost on the child how rooms would grow chillier when Alicent and Rhaenyra found themselves in each other’s company. She wondered whether or not this attitude may extend to her, though it did little to separate her from Alicent’s children.

“It’s alright. Say hello, Maevys.” The Queen assured the child.

The princess bounded over to her father, who took her into his arms, granting her a better view of her new brother.

Peering down into the bundle of blankets, Maevys saw what looked to be a small pink doll, eyes closed and snuggled into the cloth. A light covering of white fluff graced the doll’s head.

“He looks..squishy. And funny.” Maevys said – it was all she could make of the babe.

Viserys chuckled at her discernment, “I’m afraid all babes look strange, my dear, when they are first born. Though soon, he will grow big enough to play with you. And Aegon and Helaena.” He added the last two names as though they were an afterthought.

Helaena clumsily climbed over her older brother, eager to get a closer look at the tiny, wrinkled bundle that had everyone’s attention. Aegon held onto his little sister as she leaned into their mother, the babe still in her arms. Helaena reached out and gave a small poke to the babe’s cheek before anyone had the chance to stop her.

“Helaena!” Aegon giggled, amused by his sister’s unabashed curiosity.

“Gentle, Helaena.” Alicent reminded her daughter. She observed as Aemond’s face scrunched up in surprise at the unexpected prod. The baby’s violet eyes blinked open, meeting Helaena’s gaze with a curious stare.

Helaena beamed at her little brother, her excitement barely contained.

“Is that Aemond’s egg?” Aegon outstretched a pointed finger to the hearth on the opposite side of the chamber. Nestled amongst the blazing coals lay a large dragon egg, covered in iridescent pale orange scales. Faint flickering flames danced across the surface of the egg beautifully, reflecting in the eyes of the Targaryen children.

Maevys could not help but be mesmerized at the sight. Maybe if she looked hard enough, she would be able to see under the hard outer shell and glimpse the little dragon cocooned inside, waiting to be awakened.

She felt her throat tighten at the thought and decided to push the nasty feeling away.

“Yes…” Viserys replied, rather cautiously. Aegon had been given a cradle egg, though it never hatched. Helaena had fallen to the same fate. And well, Maevys…she was never given an egg to begin with. And although Maevys’ siblings were as dragonless as her, they were afforded one thing she was not:

A chance to claim one in the future.

There were several riderless dragons, and countless unlaid eggs, waiting for Aegon and Helaena. But for his second born daughter, Viserys had forbidden her from ever claiming a dragon, insisting that she would always be too sick, frail, weak, delicate, and unwell, among other innumerable things, to ever dream of riding one. It was a decision that led the girl to shed enough tears over the years to fill Blackwater Bay.

Maevys felt small, almost weightless in his arms. He could practically feel her heartbeat against him, thumping away far too quickly.

A few more moments of shared wonderment over Aemond Targaryen persisted, with mother and children looking at the little one in quiet awe. But Maevys only watched the babe’s cradle now, picturing how the egg would look when placed inside.

A knock echoed through the room to disturb the peace, with a knight soon entering to deliver a curt announcement. “Princess Rhaenyra, Your Grace.” With a brief nod, the man exited, leaving the heir to the Iron Throne to step into the room.

Maevys' face brightened at the sight of her sister, but her joy was fleeting as she remembered the presence of the woman seated beside her.

Alicent however, seemed largely indifferent to the interruption, perhaps too exhausted to care.

“Father – Queen Alicent,” Rhaenyra gave a strained acknowledgement, “You summoned me? I heard the babe arrived.” She looked over at the bundle of cloth curiously.

“Yes, healthy and with ease.” Alicent assured through tight lips.

Maevys shifted around awkwardly in her father’s grasp.

“Well, come closer, Rhaenyra. Meet Aemond!” Viserys called, moving to meet his daughter halfway and guiding her to the bed.

The elder princess leaned over Alicent, casting her gaze on the newborn. The sight of the peaceful, sleeping babe slightly eased the furrow in her brow.

“A boy,” Rhaenyra breathed, an unknown expression to Maevys hidden in her features.

“Aemond.” Viserys recounted the babe’s name to his daughter.

She politely nodded. “Congratulations, Father. Alicent.”

“And…how are you feeling?” Her sister continued, addressing the Queen now.

“Oh – I am fine. Tired but…I am well. Thank you.” Alicent, seemingly taken aback by the sincere inquiry, stumbled to get her words out.

Rhaenyra nodded, “I am glad to hear it,” turning to her father, her gaze fell on Maevys, “I’ll take Maevys now, Father. We should leave you all to enjoy some privacy with little Aemond.”

“B-but, I want to play with Aemond!” Maevys protested.

“Yeah!” Aegon piped up from beside his mother.

Rhaenyra offered a small smile, “There will be time for that yet. Let’s let Queen Alicent rest now.”

Maevys looked to her father with wide eyes, but found no argument from him. She took another fleeting look at her new brother, warm and peaceful in his mother’s lap. The king deposited his youngest daughter onto the floor, leaving her to reluctantly come to Rhaenyra’s side.

The pouting princess waved goodbye to her siblings. A look of reserved appreciation came over Alicent’s face, “Thank you…Rhaenyra.” Her voice was soft.

Rhaenyra stiffly nodded and began her exit, Maevys following closely behind.

“Daughter,” Viserys called from behind them. Rhaenyra and Maevys both turned, unsure which of them he was referring to.

“I should like to meet with you this evening. We must begin discussing the particulars of your betrothal.” The man’s tone was measured, as it was not a question, but an order.

Alicent stiffened minutely at the exchange, focusing her attention to her newborn once more.

With another strained nod, Rhaenyra quickly took her leave with Maevys bringing up the rear.

Once out in the hallway, the two were closely followed by Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra’s newly named shield. Maevys found his presence comforting enough, as did her sister, though she missed the constant shadow of Ser Criston Cole. The knight had shown her kindness, as she thought he had with Rhaenyra. When she tried to inquire about Cole’s sudden absence, Rhaenyra simply told her sister, “He now has responsibilities elsewhere.”

Maevys quietly observed her older sister as she struggled to keep in step with her pace. Rhaenyra seemed to be making a beeline for her chambers, and Maevys intended to weasel her way into them as well, now deprived of her prior company.

She had heard the word “betrothal” tossed around by their father often as of late, and every mention of the term produced a lingering frown from Rhaenyra.

“Nyra?” the little girl asked aloud. Her voice seemed to rouse Rhaenyra from her thoughts.

“Oh - yes, sweet girl?” The princess looked down to her sister.

“What is…betrothal?” She asked cautiously, tripping over her pronunciation of the unfamiliar word.

Rhaenyra pursed her lips. Ser Harwin cleared his throat from behind the two.

The three of them had finally reached the elder princess’ room before she spoke again. “Come inside Mae,” Rhaenyra held her door open as Maevys ran inside under her arm, grateful for the invitation. The little girl made herself comfortable at a table just inside the chamber, rummaging through one of the pockets of her dress to fish out the toy dragon she had taken.

Rhaenyra nodded to her knight, “Thank you, Ser Harwin.”

“Princess,” Harwin Strong replied gruffly, taking his leave.

The door shut behind Rhaenyra as Maevys trotted her wooden dragon across the length of the table. Her sister took the seat opposite of her, watching the little girl play with the toy, a faint smile gracing her face in the privacy of the room.

“You are quite fond of that dragon, sister. That little gray one.”

Maevys looked up, meeting her sister’s gaze. She absentmindedly hummed in agreement, continuing with her game, “I don’t have a real one…so I like playing with this one.” A hint of restrained sadness intertwined in the child’s words.

Rhaenyra frowned again. She couldn’t even argue with the girl – what she said rang true. It was a slight that gnawed at Maevys constantly. Her little sister would often ask to accompany Rhaenyra to the dragonpit, just to glimpse Syrax.

The elder princess decided to turn to other matters. “Do you remember Laenor – our cousin? He is the son of aunt Rhaenys.”

Maevys had met the young man once, though the memories of children were fickle. “I think so…” she trailed off, waving her dragon in the air.

Rhaenyra sucked in a breath of air, “I am to marry Laenor. That is what a betrothal is. It is what father speaks of.”

The little girl dropped her raised arm, “Oh.”

A funny feeling settled in her stomach. “So…you will leave?”

Rhaenyra’s head shot up, “What? Of course not.” She could not contain her chuckle, amused by her little sister’s concern over something she would never dream of doing to her.

She got up from her seat and planted herself next to Maevys, sitting the girl in her lap. “I would never leave you, understand?”

The little girl nodded, disregarding her toys and looking into her sister’s face.

“Though Laenor will be living here soon enough,” Rhaenyra ran a hand through her sister’s unruly hair, “After we are to wed.”

Maevys nodded and sat there a moment, mulling over her words. “Are you…happy?” She dared to ask. The princess thought marriage was to be a joyful thing, from what little her Septa had told her of it, but Rhaenyra did not seem pleased at all by the mere mention of it.

The elder girl felt a few tears threaten to slip from her sister’s innocent question. She should be happy – yes. That is what marriage was supposed to be. Yet, reality was far more complicated.

“I think…one day I will be.” Rhaenyra told her sister, choosing honesty over pretense. Maevys looked up at her sister, her young eyes reflecting confusion and concern, “Will Laenor be good to you?”

Rhaenyra smiled, a bittersweet expression. “He will be kind, I have no doubt.”

The little girl’s face brightened a little at the reassurance, and she hugged her sister tightly. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

“I’m not very sad, Mae,” Rhaenyra assured her, holding her sister close. “Change is a constant in this world. Yet, come what may, we will always have each other.”

Maevys nodded, feeling a little better, though not fully grasping the weight of her sister’s words. She picked up her wooden dragon again, feeling its weight in her small hand.

“What did you think of Aemond?” She asked Rhaenyra, wishing to move on to a lighter topic.

The elder girl exhaled a weary sigh. “I think…we now have another little brother.” It was a lackluster answer, though Rhaenyra could not fully articulate her feelings to the small girl. It was a strange and unsettling thing, to watch your father have children by another woman. Especially a woman who was your own age. Maevys seemed to embrace and love their new siblings with ease, a grace that Rhaenyra found elusive.

And in that, she envied the little girl for it:

Uncomplicated affection.

A/N: Apologies for the wait, i found this kind of challenging to write in all honesty. I wanted this chapter to focus on mae's relationships with her extremely dysfunctional family, how she perceives it from the eyes of a child, what changes have happened since she was born, and to explore her condition a lil bit more. next chapter will be another larger time skip, which i am looking forward to getting into. but no promises for how soon that will be out! …sorry hehe….

As always, thank you for reading and supporting <3

Tags: @marialikescherries @3-decades-strong

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #targaryen oc #house of the dragon fanfiction

85 notes · View notes

apple-p4int · 1 month ago

Text

SIMBA 🦁🗣️🔥

#The lion king #Disney #Cas van de pol #Youtube #Parody #Drawing #Colorless #The ultimate recap cartoon

0 notes

bvbblywhims · 17 days ago

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐓

✿ PAIR: ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ʀᴏsᴇʜᴇᴀʀᴛs x ʜɪʟɪsᴇ ɪɴᴏᴀᴅᴇɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

✿ WARNING: violence??

I was blowing off on a whim after I read Solitary Lady. Sad the manhwa seems rushed though. My bad (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠).

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙿𝙾𝚅

"Those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain..."

If the past me was told that I would be free from the chains of eternity after collecting the fragments, even they would have had their doubts.

Yet, I'm still here, forced into a coffin with a talking raccoon and summoned to another world called Twisted Wonderland. I was dressed in robes made for a cult then taken in by a crooked crow of a Headmaster of Night Raven College, a school full of males after things got "heated up" at the opening school ceremony.

Literally.

To think I would see boys that wielded possibly powerful magic run around mindlessly from the a raccoon that blows fire as if they were chickens with their heads cut off.

But day by day, I looked back remembering what that mirror told me after I stepped forward. I never thought t would ever find a talking inanimate object trembling with an expression of fear as I stared it down.

"...The nature of her soul is silent. Colorless. Soundless. There's a light that's dull, darkness yet has no shadow."

"A figure that shouldn't even exist to begin with."

The Dark Mirror wasn't wrong. After experiencing eight lives of misery of having a miserable family, and an endless journey to find rest, I wasn't meant to exist after all. Yet, I was given the power to reshape the world to my desires by the last King before he disappeared and I tried to find my place.

"Worry not, the Dark Mirror will see you safely home." Crowley, the Headmage said.

"Why would it matter? After all, I don't have a home to return to."

So why am I still here? Do the other gods tend to make me their toy? Watch me spill blood and sweat more tears just for entertainment as if this was a play? Wander again just for their pure satisfaction?

The hatred I look back from my predecessor as she killed the King, handing me her sins as I became bound to a world of immortality.

'Why do the gods always find a way to become my obstacle from finding my paradise?' I gritted my teeth biting my finger as I got settled in the abandoned Ramshackle dorm. My cursed powers of spring have returned again with the flower vines began to unconsciously climb the walls, clinging and spreading their tendrils to every surface it could find as the pink buds gracefully bloomed.

"No one must know...."

"Henchman, are you ok....?" Grim, the flaming feline that became my companion asked quietly.

I glanced at him, who stared right back at me with the familiar shaky expression of fear causing my thoughts to be put on pause. I was silent for a few seconds before sighing and walked towards him to gently give him a hug.

"I'm sorry, a lot of things have been on my mind lately....."

"...Whatever, it's not as if I was worried or anything."

I smiled.

What a liar.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

A being with no more purpose as I began my wandering again. At least I was supposed to be with my feline companion as I did odd work here and there for the Headmage.

Yet, after the adventures of a charred statue, and fixing a magical chandelier with two peculiar first year students who were part of the trouble, Ace and Deuce from the Heartslabyul dorm, I look at them now and quietly smile.

Perhaps, life may be more tolerable.

At least I thought before encountering a problem regarding strange traditions in their dorm and a simple matter of a specific restricted tart brought by Ace to a tradition they call an "Unbirthday Party" after he ate a slice of tart after their cave escapades.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!"

Riddle Rosehearts.

Ah yes. He possesses magic that could seal other people's magic to which I learned was the same as cutting off a person's head, according to Ace which intrigued me.

The Heartslabyul Prefect who follows the rules of the Queen of Hearts. A second year housewarden with a firm hand but was so uptight with such strange rules. It seemed there was a background from what we gathered from Trey the Vice-Housewarden who was surprisingly his childhood friend.

A guy with mommy issues. How lovely.

I was curious about the odd rules after specific amounts of sugar cubes added to lemon tea, painting roses red, restrictions of eating a hamburger on a Tuesday so I went investigating, sneaking into the library at night for the official rule book of the dorm, flipping through 810 rules.

Even I would criticize that it was over the top.

Which brings me now to the current circumstances as the two simpletons, Ace and Deuce, dueling the housewarden who simply flicked his wand to seal their magic again from their previous shenanigans.

I had a bad feeling something was going to happen.

Especially with that premonition I had that night.

"Hmph. You didn't even last five seconds." A small smirk formed in Riddle's lips. "That was all you had, and still you thought to challenge me? You must be utterly humiliated. I guess my mother was right. A man who cannot follow rules is a man who cannot achieve anything."

Drip, Drip.....

"Hm...." Something irritating has been gnawing at them.

"Are you faring well, [Y]?" Crowley questions their unusual demeanor.

"It's nothing, just simply can't see. I'll be at the other side...." I muttered, walking to the other side to see the view properly with Grim following behind.

Deuce argued. "Tch... We agree that rules should be followed. But forcing others to follow nonsensical rules like the ones you've enacted is tyranny!"

"Then you agree that breaking rules is wrong. And in this dorm, I AM the rules." The Heartslabyul Prefect asserted. "Therefore, those who cannot abide by my decisions deserve not the heads they use to complain!"

"Rules are meant to be followed. However, too much control destroys all respect on authority."

Why do I feel so irritated ever since gaining information from Trey?

"Too much grip turns them into rebels."

"Clearly, you were born to parents with no great magical capability. I have to wonder what sort of pitiful education left you unable to comprehend so simple a concept."

'How dare he.....'

Deuce gritted his teeth, the veins of his fists bulging from the amount of pressure he was putting into clenching his hands. "You little...."

It started with a small crack in the ground. Tendrils of thorny vines began to crept up slowly from within the soul. Their mind was blurry, as they paid no mind to the punch Ace gave to Riddle, their voices only seeming to be ringing in their ear as they talked about how he was to blame for his tyranny. Grim jumped at the sight of them turning his head to look at his companion's face the same murderous look they held that night only now it was pointed to the red-headed tyrant of a dormleader.

He was scared. Scared for her and for him.

"Myah, [Y], [Y]...." Grim kept pulling on one of their uniform socks only to get no response in return.

W̷͇̜͚̃̈͜h̴̼̳͋̍͌ͅͅä̴͎̼͖́t̵̢͔̝̥͆͝ ̷͍̼̗̄͜ẅ̶̤́̀̑̂o̵͈̟̓u̷̱̯̯̇̎̆ḻ̴͈͔͌d̶̟̝̜͂̈́ ̸̟̮̝̒́͜ḣ̴̥̳͕̱͐̈͝ẹ̶́̎ ̷̘̪̎͜k̶̙̹̭͐̚͝n̸̬̜͇̏͋o̵̖̫̰͒̒̑̀w̶̼͆̌́̕ ̶̨̦̫̈́͂a̷͚̥͐̐b̸̧̞͖̝̄́̈́o̷̥̕ͅu̷̪̓t̷̛̬̻̘̏ ̸̦̟͓̚h̴͌ͅõ̴̠̼̮̚ẇ̴͙̿̎ ̵̧͉̿I̸͈̘̺͑̅̕ͅ'̵͎̔̽ṽ̵̱̩̮͝e̶̛̤͎͗͜͝ ̶̺͉̙̾̐̾͘l̵̬̄̈̈i̶̖̇v̷̫͇͓́e̵̠̐͊̌͝d̶̡͖̈́.̷̖̥̫̱̇̔.̶̗̣̥̻̀.̷̧̼̞̠͂̓.̴͕̭͓̋͠'̸̻̰̣̩͒͘

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"I'M the one who's right! There is NO! POSSIBLE! ALTERNATIVE!"

"Riddle stop!" Trey cried out.

"Drip, Drip...."

"That sound....." I murmured.

I watched as the dormleader begin his descent to madness. A dark aura emerges from him as ink blots begin to stain and cover him whole given his overuse of magic. Black ink corrupted him transforming his pristine appearance into something berserk as a monster similar to what I saw in the mines followed from behind.

"Tch...." Something was still itching at me.

'Am I supposed to pity him for his actions or something.....?'

"All who defy me will lose all their heads!" Riddle laughed insanely. "Ah ha ha ha ha!"

'What a useless Headmaster this college has....' I sighed in annoyance as he cried about how he could let someone Overblot in front of him, basically a consequence of over usage of magic that may lead to death if continues to use it at that state. The only good thing that Headmage was useful for was that magic barrier he put up before letting the rose trees hit us.

"What's that smell...."

"Now's not the time—....Ooh, I smell it too...." A few students on the ground were whispering as a scent of flowers filled the atmosphere.

"[Y], is that scent....coming from you....?" Deuce asked hesitantly.

"Headmage."

The said man flinched at their hard tone as they glanced at him.

"Assist the students back to the Mirror Chamber." I stepped forward with a neutral expression. "Many are injured."

"Um, hello?! 911? We've got an idiot emergency!" Cater exclaimed at the absurd statement.

"You DID hear that part about how reeeal bad things are happenin' with him, right?!" Grim argues with Cater.

"That's why we need to stop him now! I don't want that in my conscience!" Deuce backs him up.

Ace scowled. "And I'm not givin' up till I hear him say "I was wrong and I'm sorry.".

"You...." Trey sighed. "All right, let's do this. I can overwrite his magic for a little longer. In the meantime, do what you can! Headmage, please evacuate the other students!"

"Crowley, go." I urged him. "I'll handle from here."

"I don't want to lose him. There're too many things I've left unsaid." Trey murmured.

"Ngh... I'll be back as soon as I've gotten the students to safety. Stand firm until then!" The Headmage rushes towards the other Heartslabyul members to evacuate them out of their dorm.

"Such defiance, from every last one of you! I shall take all of your heads!" Riddle swung his arm, arrows of blot forming and firing at them.

Flower vines sprung from the ground creating a barrier from the fire.

"Ace. Deuce." I called out.

"Right!" Deuce gritted his teeth and pulled out his magic pen.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Despite what he said, Ace follows behind.

"You...." Riddle says angrily. "These flowers do not belong in the Rose Maze!"

"Tsk!"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝙾𝚅

"I SUMMON THEE, CAULDRON!"

"Take this!" Ace sends out a wind gust to block the incoming barrage of ink arrows, only for a few ink droplets eating away at his clothes.

"We won't be able to last long, we should—WHAT ARE THEY DOING?!" Cater yelled.

[Y] teleported in front of him, leaving a trail of flowers in their wake. Startled by them, Riddle aims the arrows at them only for them to bring an arm up and wrap the vines around him and the blot monster. They closed their palm with Riddle gasping for air, feeling more irritated in front of him.

"You ignorant wretch!"

"[Y] Don't hurt him!"

They turn their head back to see Trey shouting wearily at her only to find a hardened expression returned back to him.

"Please...."

"I'm not planning on killing him." They deadpanned. "Only the ink monster behind him and knocking him down."

"What....."

In that moment, a vine slapped the back of Riddle's head causing him to go unconscious as the head glass of the Overblot monster blasted into pieces. The flowers beneath them carried them up to catch the Heartslabyul Prefect in their arms.

"Cutie-chan's scary...." Cater sweated, smiling nervously as [Y] walks towards them with the ink blots disappearing from Riddle.

"Myah! That's my henchman! You should 'ave see what they did in the mines!" Grim laughs.

"What are you looking so proud for?" Ace raises a brow at the feline. "You hardly did anything."

"HEY!"

"Now, that's over, please take him...." They stumbled to give Riddle to Deuce. "I might need... a short....rest......"

They fell unconscious, their body finally done with experience of adrenaline. They weren't sure who caught thembut better than landing on the grass.

Whatever.

"HENCHMAN!"

"THIS IDIOT, THEY OVERDID IT—"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝙿𝙾𝚅

I found myself in an elegant dining room, sitting at the table where someone seems to be celebrating their birthday.

'What is this....another premonition....?'

"Happy Eighth Birthday, Riddle."

I look right next to me to see a familiar redhead looking at a cake filled with mixed nuts and holding a number 8 shaped candle with my presence going unnoticed.

"Memories...."

I then glance upwards to see a woman with red hair looking at Child Riddle in a stern manner.

"This year's birthday cake is a low-sugar recipe made with nuts and lecithin-rich soy flour to improve your cerebral function." She explained.

"Thank you, Mama." He answers sheepishly before asking in a shy tone. "But, um... Just once, I'd like to try one of those tarts covered with bright-red strawberries..."

'So that's his mother.....'

"Absolutely not! Those tarts are monstrously unhealthy. I might as well feed you poison! Even just a single slice would exceed your recommended daily intake of sugar." She said with a raised voice causing his little self to flinch.

"Now, dinner tonight will be a tuna sauté rich in DHA and omega-3 fatty acids. Now that you're eight, your caloric intake should be 600 kilocalories per meal, so don't eat more than 100 grams of it. Understood?"

"...Yes mama."

I narrowed my eyes at the woman as she walked away to leave Riddle to eat. Strands of her red hair sway softly with each step.

"It should've happened to Ricardo! Not me! There must be a mistake! I must give it back to him right away!"

"BE QUIET! IF THERE WAS A SOLUTION, WOULD I STILL BE DEALING WITH THIS PROBLEM?!"

Ẉ̴͖̲͇͗̌͂̽̄̈̋̄̑̕͜͠ͅr̶̨̟̙̔̽͑̓͝͝e̵̢͎̻̣͇͛́̆͒̇̾̾̌̿̏͐̕͘͝t̸͎̅̏̏͂͗̕͝͠c̷̢̞̤̰̩̪̜̭͕̪͎̫̩͙̆̚͝͠͝ͅh̸̙͓͈̘̯͇̥̩̝̤͍̺̥͚̆̿͑̌̓͌̅̓e̵̡̘͔̜̞̞̼̞͚̼̦̻̖͖͌̈́̃̅̈́͑̀͘͠͝͝͠ͅd̴̰̫̗̩͉͇͓͇̑̂ͅ ̶̡̢̩͈̤͙̲͍̝̬̐͋̓̋̀̈́͗̚͘ṟ̸͇̻̻͎̪̝͗͌͋̇̿͐̿̀̾̕͠͠ͅê̶̺̔̚d̷͖͓͕̦̗̲̬̈́̓͛̓̒͘̕̚͜͝ ̴̮̜͆͊̈́̆͑̉̏̃̅̏̈́̚̕h̸̻̹̫̜͙̝̩̤͓̜͔̭͕̣͚͌̉̋̔͒̂̽͠a̴̬̰͚̱̦̮͍̓̌͛͑͂̈́̅̓̎i̶͉̖͔͆̃̈́̍̂̇̿̋̊͛̃̇̎͘͝ͅr̵͓̹̭̹̅̆͊͐̈̆̚̚̕͝͝

I sighed as I continued to watch Riddle's memories, taking into account how he made friends with Trey and Chenya, him being able to grab a sweet taste of a strawberry tart, skipping his studies for carefree moments before getting caught by his mother.

"Those two hoodlums must have incited this behavior! You must never play with them again!"

He grabbed her arm desperately, tears flowing uncontrollably at the thought of losing his friends. "I'm sorry, Mother! It won't happen again! So please!"

"Be quiet!" Her voice boomed, pulling her arm away from him before walking away. "You broke the rules, and now you're paying for it! Clearly you're not able to handle the freedom of independent study. I'll simply need to keep a closer eye on you."

"Because I broke the rules, my favorite part of my day was taken away from me.I vowed to never break my mother's rules again. After all, she was the most accomplished mother in the city, and therefore, the most correct."

"But mom, why....."

"Why does my heart hurt so much?"

"I want to eat a tart! It's my birthday,so can't I have some just this once?"

"I want to play outside all day long!"

"I want to make lots and lots of friends!"

"Tell me, Mom, please..."

"What rule do I need to follow to make this pain go away?"

Memories of him began to fade to black as I was stuck in darkness again and I saw Riddle on the ground breathing heavily and trembling.

"Drip, drip."

With each step of their heel, it sends ripples throughout the still ink. They stood in front of him before crouching down and placed a hand under his chin to look at them in silence.

Before slapping across his cheek.

"AGH—" The redhead hisses from the pain. "What in the world are you doing?"

"It helped, didn't it?" I said blankly, pointing at his hands. "The trembles stopped."

'Huh....?' Riddle looked at his hands.

"Look, I'm not going to sit here and say it isn't your fault because it is." This statement causes him to wince. "Following rules are only meant to be a guide for you to grow not to define you. It's not going to make that pain leave."

"People's mistakes help them learn and improve themselves to be better. So, if you've push yourself to only follow your mother's footsteps, the only thing you've been doing is limiting your personal growth if you think your mother is some God and she holds the ultimate truth just because she's successful." I remark dryly.

"Just because you were raised that way, doesn't mean others would follow behind that authority." I held out a hand. "And, if your members can fight back, then perhaps it's time for you to learn something from them."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I woke up first with my sight adjusting to the vision of the familiar school infirmary I know. I tried to sit up only to feel a sudden headache come up making me clutch my head.

"[Y], you're awake!" My feline companion yelled causing me to wince at the volume as he came crashing down to hug me. "Stupid henchman!"

"What the..." I answered raspily given I was unconscious for a while. "Grim..."

"[Y]!, thank the Great Sevens you're ok!" Deuce helped me sit upright, putting a hand on my back to gently get me up. "You shouldn't be getting up this quickly."

Ace flicks my head. "Geez, what a warning. "I'll just take a nap for a minute. It's been a couple of hours missy."

"Cutie-chan's ok!" Cater pats my head.

"You gave us quite a scare there...." Trey sweated before looking at Riddle. "It's only him now."

"Give it a few." I answered. "He'll be awake."

"Cutie, there's no way you could possibly know that...."

"Gah!" Riddle gasped for air as he woke up from the bed beside me. "What in the world...."

"Look who's finally awake." Ace eyes their red haired dormleader.

Cater turned back to me comically serious. "How could you have possibly known that? "

"Ah, Mr. Rosehearts and Mx. [Y] appears to have regained consciousness. Excellent." The crow cuts into the conversation.

"Don't worry, Riddle. Just try to rest." Trey said gently.

"Yo, that's just the sort of coddling that led to him going nuts in the first place! Now the garden is tore up from the floor up, not to mention that we could've died!" Ace exclaimed.

I sighed at his outburst as a jumble of voices started ringing in my ear, mixing about in the air.

"The truth is, I... I really wanted to eat the chestnut tart." The Heartslabyul dormleader clenches his fist on the blanket as tears begin to well up his eyes.

"Huh?" Ace glances at Riddle.

"And I don't care if the roses are white, or the flamingos are pink. And I prefer honey to sugar cubes in my tea, and I like milk tea better than lemon tea anyhow. And after a meal, I want to be the one sitting around talking with everyone..."

"Riddle...." Trey murmurs sadly at his childhood friend.

"And I really wanted to play with you and Chenya more, Trey." He sniffled before he started sobbing loudly.

"Riddle Rosehearts, in tears... Hashtag #WOW." Cater lowly whistled.

I sighed closing my eyes as if it'll lessen the headache even more.

"[Y], I'm sorry...."

"Hm....." I opened them to see Riddle trying to wipe what seemed to be endless tears away in sniffles to apologize.

"I'm really sorry..."

"It's fine...." I replied motionlessly before sighing again. Flowers began fluttering around me to prep my teleport."You all should talk it out...."

I then disappeared into a gust of flowers, leaving trails of them in my wake.

"Hey, she just disappeared." Cater said in surprise.

"Ah, that janitor is working overtime now if they keep doing that..." Crowley whines. "My poor vacation funds...."

"But, didn't they forget about Grim? " Ace snickers at him. "Damn you got left behind."

"Should I call her to come back?" Deuce put a hand in his pocket to pull out his phone.

Grim stared blankly at the place they once were before shaking his head.

"No, leave them be." He replied.

"I know when they're not in a good mood...."

I woke up first with my sight adjusting to the vision of the familiar school infirmary I know. I tried to sit up only to feel a sudden headache come up making me clutch my head.

"[Y], you're awake!" My feline companion yelled causing me to wince at the volume as he came crashing down to hug me. "Stupid henchman!"

"What the..." I answered raspily given I was unconscious for a while. "Grim..."

"[Y]!, thank the Great Sevens you're ok!" Deuce helped me sit upright, putting a hand on my back to gently get me up. "You shouldn't be getting up this quickly."

Ace flicks my head. "Geez, what a warning. "I'll just take a nap for a minute. It's been a couple of hours missy."

"Cutie-chan's ok!" Cater pats my head.

"You gave us quite a scare there...." Trey sweated before looking at Riddle. "It's only him now."

"Give it a few." I answered. "He'll be awake."

"Cutie, there's no way you could possibly know that...."

"Gah!" Riddle gasped for air as he woke up from the bed beside me. "What in the world...."

"Look who's finally awake." Ace eyes their red haired dormleader.

Cater turned back to me comically serious. "How could you have possibly known that? "

"Ah, Mr. Rosehearts and Mx. [Y] appears to have regained consciousness. Excellent." The crow cuts into the conversation.

"Don't worry, Riddle. Just try to rest." Trey said gently.

"Yo, that's just the sort of coddling that led to him going nuts in the first place! Now the garden is tore up from the floor up, not to mention that we could've died!" Ace exclaimed.

I sighed at his outburst as a jumble of voices started ringing in my ear, mixing about in the air.

"The truth is, I... I really wanted to eat the chestnut tart." The Heartslabyul dormleader clenches his fist on the blanket as tears begin to well up his eyes.

"Huh?" Ace glances at Riddle.

"Riddle...." Trey murmurs sadly at his childhood friend.

"And I really wanted to play with you and Chenya more, Trey." He sniffled before he started sobbing loudly.

"Riddle Rosehearts, in tears... Hashtag #WOW." Cater lowly whistled.

I sighed closing my eyes as if it'll lessen the headache even more.

"[Y], I'm sorry...."

"Hm....." I opened them to see Riddle trying to wipe what seemed to be endless tears away in sniffles to apologize.

"It's fine...." I replied motionlessly before sighing again. Flowers began fluttering around me to prep my teleport."You all should talk it out...."

I then disappeared into a gust of flowers, leaving trails of them in my wake.

"Hey, she just disappeared." Cater said in surprise.

"Ah, that janitor is working overtime now if they keep doing that..." Crowley whines. "My poor vacation funds...."

"But, didn't they forget about Grim? " Ace snickers at him. "Damn you got left behind."

"Should I call her to come back?" Deuce put a hand in his pocket to pull out his phone.

Grim stared blankly at the place they once were before shaking his head.

"No, leave them be." He replied.

"I know when they're not in a good mood...."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I didn't plan on attending the Unbirthday Party part two, or as Ace would call it "Revenge Unbirthday Party" however, given the invites, Grim wanted to go for the food so I decided to amuse and accompany him. I suppose I could partake in some cake.

"All hail our leader, the Red Sovereign himself, Housewarden Riddle!" A Heartslabyul student proclaimed.

"We salute you, Housewarden Riddle! " All the students said in unison.

"Hm. The garden roses are red, the tablecloths are white... This seems like a proper unbirthday indeed. Is there a dormouse asleep in the teapo-" Riddle cut himself off in realization. "Er, well, I suppose it's fine either way."

"Not everything has to change completely, you know. Like, maybe spread the jam on your scones, instead of on the dormouse this time?" Trey smiled to encourage him. "Let's try to set the bar at "it's great if it's this way," not "it absolutely has to be this way."

"Yes, that makes—" Riddle trails off as gust of pink flowers fluttered in the air as [Y] appears with Grim. "....sense."

"Apologies for coming about like this as we were in a hurry." I bowed before glancing at them. "I'll be sure to clean up as early as possible."

Riddle stares at them stunned.

"...It seems I better get started."

He began turning into different shades of red before he stumbling on his answer. "N-No! It's alright!"

He cleared his throat and waved it off. "I—I mean we are already delighted with your presence and the pink petals add a bit of more color to the rose maze!"

"Riddle?..." Trey sweatdrop at his friend's red face.

"...If you say so." I muttered before proceeding to find a place to sit.

"Hey, did he start clamping up again?" Ace whispered to Deuce as he glanced at Riddle . "He looks like a tomato and he's about to burst...."

"Doesn't look like it...." Deuce said confused. "If he was, he wouldn't have let them walk away like that...."

"What are you two whispering about now...." I sweatdrop.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Things became stranger after that.

I can see that he was trying to improve himself slowly. Though he has some habits he couldn't get rid of as I can some occasional "Off with Your Heads" every once and a while.

However, that was one thing. After his Overblot, it seems he was more perceptive around me. Every once and a while I can feel his presence trailing me, observing my actions.

One day, when it was my alone time at the library after class, I felt like I was being watched again. Sighing as I close my book, I called him over.

"I can tell when someone is observing me." I remarked, leaning my head onto my hand. "Do you think I'm some kind of animal to experiment on?"

A small sound of an "eep" came from one of the bookshelves. There was moment of silence as I waited for my observer to appear. Slowly, the sound of footsteps made their way into my ear as I opened my eyes to see the familiar Heartslabyul Prefect before me looking sheepish, holding a couple of books in his hand .

I blinked at him before tapping on the chair right beside me.

"Come sit. Or are you planning to stand like a sleeping horse?" I raised a brow.

He wordlessly follows, taking a seat in the chair beside me as I go back to reading my book. The redhead glances at me every once and while as he goes to study, taking down notes of the important parts. It was quiet for a few minutes, a gust of gentle breeze popping in from the window from time to time before I popped a question out of the blue.

"So, why have you been monitoring me?" I asked casually as I flipped a page.

The sound of a scribbling pen stopped.

"...I wasn't monitoring. I was simply.... observing you." He murmurs thoughtfully.

"Did you gain anything about me...?" Another page was turned.

"...The only thing I've known so far is how you enjoy eating a blueberry cheesecake." He answers with embarrassment.

"Pfft—"

"Uh...." Riddle stares as [Y] chuckles before gradually turning to full blown laughter at his answer.

"You laughed...."

"Hm? Oh my....." I covered my lips only for my eyes to show that I'm clearly smiling.

'Beautiful....'

"I can't understand you at all."

"Hm...." I hummed.

"You can say such malicious words with a stoned-faced look to pair...." He murmured, glancing at me. "Yet, your actions say differently as you laugh freely right next to me."

"Is that so....?"

"So why do you seem so distant with me...."

I shut my book, my expression shifting again and stood up.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that." I narrowed my eyes at him. With my back turned from him I started walking away, slowly warning him.

"Tread carefully as wandering where you don't belong will only lead to harsh consequences."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

'Why doesn't this world let me go....'

When someone tells you to know your place, one should follow yet Riddle keeps shoving his nose into my business. He kept showing up in the library to read with me, taking me to class when we pass by each by chance when I insisted no.

I was growing irritable by the day especially with ongoing investigation of the injured students that are talented players for the Magift Tournament.

"Do you have our Prefect head over heels for you or something?" Ace asked one day when we were proceeding to Potionology together with Deuce and Grim. "I swear he's been turning his eyes to you whenever we're at like a 6 mile radius from him."

"How would I know...." I responded sharply. "I don't control him do I?"

"Wow, now I'm just saying...." Ace raises his hands, the three pausing their footsteps as they watch their friend walk to class without them. "Aren't they a ray of sunshine today?"

"Dumbass, leave them alone, they look stressed out." Deuce sighed.

"Who you calling a dumbass?!"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

'He just won't leave me alone....'

That was it. This was the last straw. Not only did he take on the members of Savanaclaw coming to attack me when we confronted them when we realized the culprits. But took the blast of sand coming for me from Leona when he Overblotted, sending him flying and collapsing on the ground.

"RIDDLE!" Cater went running to get him

'Shit.' I teleported to him, checking his pulse only to breathe a sigh when coming to the realization that he was only rendered unconscious.

"Cater, take him to the infirmary."

Cater froze under my gaze for a moment before nodding as he.

"Hn....[Y]...."

"Tsk...." I narrowed my eyes before walking towards Leona with a scowl, remaining unfazed by the sandstorm.

Whatever I shown must have mean I broke a my flower vines scattered across the field. Thorns of their tendrils scraped against Leona's skin, small wounds opening spilling blood.

"Miss Nature ain't looking too happy...." Ace sweated at the scene in front of him as Leona roared, struggling from the choking vines.

"Myah! They're not." Grim said. "The last time I saw this many flowers was after the opening ceremony. Someone pissed them off."

"WHY DO YOU GET IN MY WAY?!"

"[Y]... Don't hurt him...."

A weak yell.

I glance back to see Cater holding up Riddle, breathing heavily as he struggled to hold up. We stare at each other for a few seconds before I turn to look at the Savanaclaw Prefect and close my palm to control my vines behind him to shatter the monster.

The second it bursted I collapsed again.

No doubt, for another dream, yippee.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The second I woke up, I saw Riddle beside me, blearily rubbing his eyes to adjust his vision before he noticed me. He flinched under my stare.

"You....." I stood up and stalked towards him.

"Hey, you're awake!" Ace exclaimed.

"You shouldn't be getting up, stay in bed—"

"Shut up." I deathly stared at the others who were silenced before looking at him. I held his shoulder teleporting both of us to Ramshackle. "It's between him and me."

"What are they doing...." Deuce said worriedly.

"Did Riddle actually fall for Cutie-chan...." Cater smiles nervously.

As soon we appeared inside, I immediately bolted the outside with flowers, leaving no way to escape.

"Why do you keep getting in my way?!" I shouted. "Your whole self has been adding another problem in my list so—"

"I saw it." He murmured.

"What...."

"I had a dream that night after my disgrace...." He stares right at me with a neutral expression. "A young girl with the powers of spring...."

"Playing at the hands of immortality...."

'No....no....' My face changed to one of horror.

"As her family and fiance drove her to the brink of insanity to each life when she returned...."

"Don't say another word." I grabbed his shoulders. "The deeper you go the more you'll regret."

'No one must know me.....'

"...Was it my hair that made you distant from me?" Riddle mumbled.

His mother gave it to him so what was he to do?

"Do you honestly think that was what's bothering me?!" I gritted my teeth. "I don't belong in this world, and I was meant to disappear. All of you have a place in this world while I don't!"

He gazed at me as I rant and collapse on the ground shaking, tears spilling out.

'No one must know how I feel.....'

"So don't get close because it will only result in you getting hurt."

"For I await the day where I can finally lay down to rest...."

I continued shaking before I slowly felt the sensation of someone wrapping their arms around me. He hugged me tightly as if he was trying to shield me from the whole world.

"777th Rule from the Queen of hearts states: That no Queen should make simple regrets for they are the one that rules amongst their subjects." Riddle said with a stern tone. "So I've never regretted being with you."

"So until the day you rest, please allow me to accompany you and help you smile once more...."

#twst x reader #twst x mc #twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x mc #twst riddle

29 notes · View notes

cosmicjoke · 1 month ago

Text

Goodnight, Dear and Sweet Dreams Act 2 Vol. 4:

So, I just read this story from volume 4 of "AoT's" short story collection, and hooo, boy, does it prove some things, I think, that I've been preaching just about forever, regarding Levi's choice during the RtS arc. Not that you need this story to prove it, since it's all laid out there in the original text, but I digress.

The short story basically revolves around Levi ruminating on Kenny's words about dreams and their power, and on his own choice to pick Armin over Erwin. Well, some people love to claim that the choice was only ever about Erwin, and that Armin played no, significant role in that choice, but this story (which we know are considered canon) proves otherwise. It proves, I think without question, that Levi's choice was just as much about doing what was best for humanity as it was about letting Erwin rest.

I'm just going to quote some lines from it and talk about them:

"When he'd first met this person - Erwin- he seemed to fight purely for the sake of humanity, holding up a lofty purpose. Indeed, that was how he lived, drawing many comrades to him. Erwin's strategies were thorough, realistic, and could even come off as merciless, but they got results. Levi trusted him on that front.

In his final, confused moments, though, even Erwin died seeing a childhood dream. Were dreams really something so powerful that they could both show people the path forward at times while also causing them to lose their way at others?"

I highlighted the above passage because this is setting up, for later in the story, the way Levi's choice was predicated on this exact difference between Erwin and Armin. Erwin's dream led him astray, mired as it was in guilt and self-loathing, being associated with such a negative experience in his life, while, as we'll see, Armin's dream, which carried no such negative associations, Levi hoped was what would give people back their own hope, something essential in order for humanity to survive.

"With the wall filled again and a plan coming together to hunt the remaining Titans, the world should have been in an undeniably better place. All the faces around Levi, though, did not look the same to him, but worse than before.

... Topping the list of glum faces was Hange.

... Hange's former habit of clowning around had grown muted ever since they became commander in Erwin's place. Even so, Levi could tell they were trying to maintain their personality from "back in those days", and he lost the will to curse them."

This part is important to highlight, for how it later relates to Armin specifically. How Levi has begun to notice the creeping despair and loss of hope in his comrades, upon finding out that their enemy is much more than just Titans, but in fact the entire world. Even Hange, who before was so positive and energetic, has grown sullen and withdrawn, visibly struggling to regain their once bright outlook. Again, keep this in mind, because it's vital in understanding what Levi thinks about Armin later on.

Levi notes the rest of his subordinates also have taken on a look of despair.

"His young subordinates looked sullen, too. They were kids, yet they wore the expressions of those who'd just crawled out of hell. Not that they were necessarily wrong to look that way."

Even Levi has begun to feel a sense of hopelessness, no longer having the will to show irritation at Hange's enthusiastic personality and not being able to blame the 104th kids for feeling depressed.

"He could see a big lake. Broad, with nothing visible on the other side. It was colorless, appearing only white from the reflected sun. The man who raised Levi -Kenny- had apparently looked upon this lake with the former king. Could this have been the sight he saw?

... 'Let's go see the sea. Salt water that stretches all the way into the horizon-'

A boy's words echoed in his memories. A void that looked into the future, that had yet to lose sight of a dream.

'When you picked Armin then and not me...'

He heard a voice behind him. It belonged to someone no longer with them.

'... Was it because his dream could reach even more people?'

His mind had created these words. In other words, a conveniently interpreted fantasy. Even though Levi knew this, though, he listened to them. Was it because he too wanted to believe in something?"

Again, I highlight the above section because Levi here is dreaming of Erwin, asking him if the reason he picked Armin and not him was because he believed Armin's dream could "reach more people" than his own. This is so important. It's Levi's subconscious, revealing to him through Erwin, what his own motivation had been in choosing Armin. Not Erwin, Armin. When Erwin says to him "Was it because his dream could reach even more people?", it's Levi acknowledging to himself that the purity of Armin's dream was what he believed could give people the kind of hope they needed in order to keep fighting and carry on, that indeed, that dream of a beautiful world beyond the walls, that dream of the sea, could "reach people", as in, humanity could still find salvation through sharing in the belief of a better world's possibility with Armin, through sharing in that hope. That it could inspire people the way Erwin had once done, and maybe even more so, because unlike Erwin, it was a dream genuinely rooted in hope, not guilt. The line about a "conveniently interpreted fantasy" is, I think, Levi's subconscious conjuring Erwin's voice telling him the reasons for his choice, because Levi wants to believe Erwin would understand why he made the choice he did, why he chose to deny Erwin the realization of his own dream in favor of Armin getting to achieve his.

I think Levi's vision of the white lake with nothing on the other side is meant to reflect an unknown future, and the emptiness of despair. The loss of hope. The situation they're all in now would seem hopeless, and that's reflected in the expressions of his comrades. They no longer see a way forward, or the possibility of their dreams being realized.

But what Levi thinks here, about wanting to believe in something himself, is him confessing that he wants to believe too in the possibility of a better world and future. Erwin had given Levi that hope before, along with everyone else, but now Armin is that person who could make them believe, through his own belief. That's why he kept thinking of the look in Armin's eyes. It was that hopeful belief Armin continued to have, even in the face of despair. It was Armin, after all, that was able the night before to pick Eren and Mikasa up and inspire them to believe they could still reach the sea and see the world beyond the walls, that there was still a reason to keep fighting, even if they couldn't get their old lives back. Erwin was no longer the person who could inspire hope, because he was too weighed down by the corrupting influence of his own, personal dream. Too wracked by guilt to be the leader they all needed. I think that's what Levi is referring to, also, when he thinks about, during the final battle, how the veterans mission must have ended when they got "those brats" to the sea. It was a passing of the torch. They were the past, and Armin and the rest of the 104th were the future. They would provide the hope humanity needed. Armin, specifically, was who would fill in the void of that colorless lake, who would return color to their dream, who would make it live again. This is also what Levi is referring to when he talks about entrusting the future to Armin, because he had the same look in his eyes as his fallen comrades. While their hope had begun to fade, Armin's had not. Erwin had led them to that point, in Shinganshina, and that was the fulfillment of his duty. He could take them no further, and I think Levi understood that. It was Armin humanity needed to lead them the rest of the way, then, who could again make them believe in there being a future worth fighting for, because Armin still believed it himself.

"As soon as Levi woke the next morning, he ran into Armin, heading somewhere with books and registers in hand. It seemed he was on his way to meet his childhood friends.

'Going to the disciplinary cells again to look after them?'

'What? Oh, yes... There's a chance that Eren could recall a memory that lines up with our information, so...' the boy answered. Though flustered, his eyes were not downcast. He found hope, even in their hopeless situation."

Again, think about this. While everyone else is losing themselves to despair and a sense of hopelessness, Armin isn't. He's the only one. As Levi thinks here, he finds hope even in their hopeless situation. This is why Levi chose Armin. He wasn't sacrificing humanity for Erwin's sake, he was choosing a boy who he knew would continue to find hope, no matter how bad the circumstances, and thus, be able to reach people with that hope. That hope is what would eventually save humanity.

That's further backed up by this ending passage:

"If the others saw the sea that Armin would someday lead them to, would some of the light return to their own faces? The sea Levi dreamed of had no color, but if it did exist, in theory it would be like the color of the sky, just like a deep lake. Similar, perhaps, to the color of the eyes belonging to the boy who had just blinked before turning around. Or, perhaps, the color of Erwin's eyes, forever shut.

He would have to see for himself. That's what it meant to be in the Survey Corps...

Past and future hopes intersected, only to vanish in the bright daybreak of reality."

Levi made his choice with the hope and belief that Armin, specifically, through the purity and hope of his dream, could give humanity back its own hope, and thus, its will to survive and keep fighting. Him thinking that Armin leading them to the sea, sharing his own hope with them, might perhaps dispel the despair taking root in the hearts of his comrades, that it could "return the light to their own faces", that's Levi hoping here that Armin's hope, specifically his ability to keep hoping, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds, will somehow be able to give them all back their own, and be able to carry them forward into the future. Again, that indicates Levi's belief that in order for humanity to have a chance, it needed a leader that could give them hope, that could make them believe in the possibility of a better future, the way Erwin had once done for all of them.

The final line, about past and future hopes intersecting, again, speaks to how Levi viewed his choice. Erwin was the leader they needed to get them to that point, but Armin was the leader they would need to carry them the rest of the way. That's what Levi believed when he made the choice he did. That's what tipped the scales for him. When he thinks here about how he would have to see for himself if it was the right choice, about how that's what it means to be in the SC, he's acknowledging to himself that, like with every choice he makes, he can't know for sure if it was the right thing to do until the results of that choice come to pass, but how, either way, he can't regret it, because it was, for him, the best choice to make at the time.

I don't know how anyone can read "Midnight Sun" and come to the conclusion that Armin, and thus, humanity, wasn't just as much of a factor in Levi's choice as Erwin was, but I feel like, if people still don't get it, this short story should help clarify it for them completely.

Levi made the choice he did both because he didn't want Erwin to suffer anymore, but also because he believed in order for humanity to have any chance, it needed someone to lead it who still had hope in there being a future at all. That was Armin all the way. Armin never lost hope, he always tried for something better, always had hope there could be something better, even when everything truly went to hell with the Rumbling. Again, it was that hope humanity needed. Without it, what chance was there for any of them? It was always Armin who was going to save humanity, not Erwin. He was always meant to be the one. He was always the right choice. Again, because Levi believed Armin's unwavering ability to hope could and would inspire humanity to keep hoping, too. Because you can't win without hope.

When you realize that, you realize how absurd it is, when people claim Levi gave humanity up for Erwin. No he didn't. He didn't. He gave humanity the hope it needed in Armin.

#Levi Ackerman #Armin Arlert #Erwin Smith #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #short stories #analysis #meta #commentary

20 notes · View notes