#coolgirl32

[thebigbadbatswife]

Hi sorry to bother you or bug you but can you please write a fanfic or maybe a short post about how would the mail Justice League members would react to female superhero reader while she's on her period apparently I'm on the starting stage of having my period cramps are the worst and I need comfort you can make this however you want it's up to you I understand if you don't want to that's fine but if you do want to do this thank you so much you're an awesome person and an amazing writer and also I think you're writing is awesome never stop loving yourself and never stop treating yourself also don't forget to have a self care day 😇

 Hey! You’re not bothering me at all! 

You know what I don’t normally take requests (refer to my pinned post), but screw it. I’m having a shitty time with my own uterus so why not? Nothing makes me feel better than reading and/or writing fluff when I feel bad and hopefully this’ll make you and other people feel better as well 💜

I’ve already done a post similar to this featuring Bruce (you can find that here) so for this I’m just going to be doing Arthur, Clark and Ollie* since I know them better than I do the rest of the League. I hope that’s okay! 

And thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so glad that you like my writing! I hope that you enjoy 💜

*And a bonus w/ Diana since the idea came to me while I was writing the boys and I could not resist and just had to include her.

Warnings - F!Reader. Established Relationship. Period mentions (Obviously). Comfort. Fluff!

Clark keeps track of your cycle so that he can always make sure you’re stocked up on the things that you need. Chocolates, sweets, sanitary products, pain medicines, his mom’s special homemade cookies. You name it, he’s already stocked the cupboards and fridge with it. 

Definitely a bit of a mother hen. Likes to dote on you and make sure that you’re fed and hydrated, but isn’t overbearing or condescending in any way. He knows that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself. He also knows that there are times where you just want to be taken care of and cuddled in bed until you’re feeling better, he’s more than happy to do so. He’s also a walking furnace so no more waiting for a hot water bottle or heat pad to warm up when you’ve got Clark right there instead.

Arthur is a lot of like Clark. Keeps track of your cycle, makes sure you have everything you could possible need. You don’t even need to lift a finger as he will have the palace staff bring it straight to you. 

Obviously, as king of Atlantis, he has duties he must attend to, but the ones that he can pass off to others he does so that he can be there for you while you need him. When he is with you be ready for lots of kissing and cuddling as he makes it up to you and does his best to make you feel better. 

Oliver can be… a little bit forgetful. He doesn’t keep track of your cycle like Clark and Arthur, at least he doesn’t in the very beginning of your relationship. Definitely makes the wrong joke at the wrong time and the glare that you give him is more than enough for him to realise he’s messed up and badly. He’s quick to start making amends though!

Waits on you hand and foot. Anything that you want he will run and get it for you. To the point that it’s like he’s trying to compete with the Flash for the title of fastest man alive. Still makes jokes, but now they’re so ridiculously corny it’s hard to not laugh at them when you’re still trying your very best to be mad at him. Is more than happy to snuggle with you (once you have forgiven him and will actually let him).

Bonus!

Diana, of course, knows just how much periods can hurt. She sympathises with you greatly when she finds you curled upon the couch and she hates to see you in such pain and discomfort. She makes sure that you have eaten, drunk something and had some pills before she is pulling you to lay on top of her, strong muscular arms wrapping around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. She won’t be leaving your side until you’re feeling better so if there is anything that you need she will order it in for you instead.

[fabuloustrash05]

Hi sorry to bother you I really am sorry to bug you so can I ask you something what was your reaction to the season finale of TMNT 2012 my reaction was the five stages of grief because it was a good show I understand that every good show has to have a season finale but it's still sad to know that it had to end like that it could have ended in very different ways like in good ways but not bad ways also have I ever told you how an amazing writer you are and if I haven't well I am telling you you're an amazing writer now never give up on your dreams and my reasons why I write is because not only it's my job but because I love it and I love to write fanfics and other stuff too so what are your reasons why you became a writer and what's your inspiration my inspiration would be my family and the cartoon characters I loved since I was a little child that I still watch to this day I even watch bluey yes I know it's for kids but it's also for adults too who have inner Childs in them it's also a coping mechanism for me to help me cope with stress anxiety and my trauma of having daddy issues but I will not tell you that because I know it's TMI sorry to bug you and I don't know if you're asleep or you just woke up I'm sorry have an awesome summer and try to stay cool you know in temperature

The Season 4 finale was the ending of the TMNT 2012 series for me. All the arcs in season 5 are just fun bonus epilogues to me. Except Mutant Apocalypse that is non canon and never happened. And it was a decent way to end the series but it could’ve been handled way better but that’s more Nickelodeon’s fault.

And as for what made me want to become a writer, I’ve always loved storytelling since I was a kid and I was lucky to have so many great influences in my life growing up to inspire/encourage me to become a writer and tell my own stories

[honeybear-yammy]

Hi honeybear Yammy may I ask you a question if it's alright with you of course so my question is what is your favorite comedy movie and be honest mine is Tammy you know the one with Melissa McCarthy in it she's really hilarious so that's my question and I hope you have a blessed day 🤣😇

Of course! I love when people ask me questions like this! That's honestly a hard one because, there are a lot of good comedy movies out there but, honestly for me, anything with Melissa McCarthy I love. I loved Tammy, Life of the Party, Identity Theft, Thunder Force, like anything with her in it I love since she is so funny and she's also one of my favorite actors so. 😂🥰💗

[kinky-candyland]

Hi sorry to bother you I really am sorry to bother you but I saw that request for open and I don't know if my request will be a good thing or bad thing but my request is can you please make a candyland fanfic x female reader you can do whatever you want to it it could be anything you want it's up to you if you don't like the idea I understand but if you do thank you so much anyway you're an amazing writer and I hope you continue to do what you love doing best by your choice and your standards anyway sorry to bother you I hope you have a wonderful summer have a self-care day don't forget to treat yourself and don't forget to know that you are awesome at being yourself 🥳😇 also Happy Father's Day

Hi coolgirl32, I just a few questions. Are you asking for a me x fem reader fanfic? I mean, I’ll write what you’re asking, no problem, but I just wanna know what exactly you’re asking me. Please respond.🤗

[kazunewolfwood-blog]

@coolgirl32

[coolgirl32]

5 posts!

Hey everybody coolgirl32 here asking for some request now it can be anything that is based on a cartoon that I heard of but give me some ideas please I hope all of you have a wonderful day 😇🥰

[fabuloustrash05]

Hi sorry to bother you/bug you but can I ask you something how would you feel if I were to tell you that if I made a hc about the 2012 TMNT girls like April, karai, renette, (I think that's her name I don't know if I got it right or wrong let me know if I got it wrong) and Mona Lisa you know about how they would go on a girls night out like fighting crime saving the night/day and being pals and everything also I'm glad I know that there's another TMNT fan cuz I watch the 2012 TMNT show when I was a little girl it's been my comfort show since I was like 8 years old sorry to bother you anyway I hope you know that you're an awesome writer and you should always remember to believe in yourself and love yourself and also have a self-care day cuz all writers deserve a self-care day anyway hope you have a wonderful summer and try not to go to the sunburn 😇🏞️

You don’t need my permission to make headcanons on characters that are not even mine lol Go for it! Share your ideas!

Also thank you for the kind words <3

[ladylaviniya]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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@zoop-zoop-zoop

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐬. 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭- 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫.

'𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬?'

𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧. 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰, 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ��𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐗 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐅𝐂

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐚𝐭, 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐃𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐄𝐱𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

Author Notes:

★I would like to express the knowledge that I do not approve or perform of any of the actions the characters of this fanficition demonstrate.

★This story is not fit for every viewers eyes and it will be glorifying acts of trauma and characters that shouldn't be in reality.

★If you do not wish to see this content please block #thebronzedragon (scroll and you'll find it is the first tag.)

★This story might be alarming and severely upsetting for people who have had experiences with rape, abuse, bad demonstrations in BDSM lifestyles and bondage play and cnc play, domestic violence.

★If you'd like to be included in or removed from the Taglist, please comment below

★CHAPTERLIST★

Chapter 1 — Word Count: 3K

Chapter 2 — Word Count: 4.4k

Chapter 3 — Word Count: 3.7k

Chapter 4 — Word Count: 5.9k

Chapter 5 — Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter 6 — Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter 7 — Word Count: 8.3k

Chapter 8 — Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter 9 — Word Count: 4.2k

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[kazunewolfwood-blog]

@coolgirl32

"I’ll get you hairballs off the streets ! Casey's comin!"

[xxdreamersdesirexx]

@coolgirl32 my friend Victor asked me to write these for you since he doesn't write himself ^^ I hope you don't mind me tagging you!

Victor Creed relationship headcanons

When you ask him about it, Victor Creed says that he won't marry you.

Victor Creed says that he won't marry you, but he still puts a ring on each of your fingers– two on some. Chunky rings, dainty rings, plain rings. Rings covered in diamonds. You hear about the robbery on the news.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but when you come back to his lair there's bottles of champagne and $200 worth of boxes of chinese food.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but you find him sleeping with a piece of your clothing under his pillow because it smells like you.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but he grabs the brush out of your hand and brushes your hair for you, then sits down and expects you to do the same for him.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but every time you mention something you'd like to have, it appears in the place that you're living a few days later.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but he climbs into your window at night and crawls into your bed.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but he takes you to dinner in expensive restaurants full of shady men, where the conversation is low, and the food is amazing and you never see the bill.

Victor Creed says he won't marry you, but he turns the radio on to the oldies station and he grabs you in his arms and dances around the room with you.

Victor Creed says that he won't marry you, but you catch him watching you while you're just doing nothing, with a fascinated almost adoring look in his sharp blue eyes.

Victor Creed says that he won't marry you, but he holds you tightly in his big, strong arms, against his warm, overwhelming body and you can hear the purr in his chest.

Victor Creed says that he won't marry you– but he's been here for years, and it doesn't look like he's going to go away any time soon.

[ladylaviniya]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@cardierreh15

@celestialscharms

@celestinehalo

@certainkittenpeach

@certibbs

@certifiedloverwoman

@cevansbaby-dove

@changenameno

@charlotte

@chernoballin

@cherryaberlin

@cherrywineee

@cheshi-cat

@chevelle-69

@chin-chan2

@chloe92

@chocolottes

@chr-nx

@cindy

@cinnamon-slut

@clairebear1985-blog

@clevercorvidae

@closetednerd

@cmmarvelfan

@cocojo1024

@coelhho-brannco

@colleya

@commanderrivercc-3628

@cookingpapaa

@coolgirl32

@coolsiaisqueenstuff

@cosmicmoonie

@couldntthinkofanamesousername

@cowloafs

@creampuffx14

@cringeycookies

@cryptic-lover

@cuteshytokki

@cxp1d

@daaafaqqqq

@daee4lifeee

@dangerousblizzarddreamer

@dangerouscutecat

@dani

@danirose-0420

@danyuwuo

@darkbreezybri

@darkfaries

@darkknight22012

@deadgirl21-1

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 — 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐠���𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨��𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐗 𝐋𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 (𝐌𝐲 𝐎𝐅𝐂)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐚𝐭, 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭-𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. *𝐍𝐨 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫*

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑,𝟗𝟎𝟕𝐤

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

⊹⋛⋋( ●´⌓`●)⋌⋚⊹ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘!!

★𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭, 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐈𝐓.

★ 𝐈 ��𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭. 𝐈 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐀𝐩𝐩. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝. (𝐈𝐟 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫, 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐀𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐯𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐬.)

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: "𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬" 𝐛𝐲 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬

Ser Gilbar surveyed the chaotic scene, the carnage of Valeman soldiers sprawled across the ground intermingled with the corpses of the six unfortunate troubadours. He took a deep, remorseful breath as he cast a look over the desolate terrain, the gravity of their mistake weighing heavily upon him.

“This was a serious error in judgment,” he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of the consequences before them. “He won’t take kindly to this. Gods be merciful.”

Ser Ryden, the younger of the two knights, was far more nonchalant, casually cleaning his sword with a cloth, each wipe staining it a deeper shade of crimson. He dismissed his companion’s concerns with a roll of his eyes.

“Shit happens. You sound like a woman, stop your whining Gilbar, you’re overeating,” he responded with a scoff. To Ser Gilbar, who stood there staring mournfully at the fallen soldiers, he said, “Now, hurry, strip those troubadours of their clothes and put them on.”

The soldiers from the Crownlands – a total of four others in all – were busy attending to the corpses of the murdered, their nimble fingers quickly removing the outer garments adorned by the departed entertainers. Fortunately, these outfits showed only minor signs of damage, a stroke of luck considering the circumstances.

Ser Gilbar swore under his breath as he joined his fellow brothers in arms in preparations, adjusting a dull blue tunic adorned with yellow embroidery over his head. He couldn’t suppress a hint of irritation, his words carrying a note of disapproval.

“We wouldn’t have had to do this if we’d have simply followed his fucking orders,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. Despite the unfortunate turn of events, he found solace in the fact that the consequences of their departure from the original plan were relatively minor. They were a safe distance from Runestones castle, and the ambush had occurred in a secluded area, likely minimizing any unwanted attention.

As they all awaited for the arrival of their king, the stillness in the clearing was almost stifling, the only sound the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. Despite the apparent anonymity of their disguises, each of them remained on alert, anticipating their sovereign’s arrival. However, for the time being, all remained blissfully unaware of their presence, and the plan to enter the city under the guise of troubadours seemed to be intact. The carriage they had commandeered stood ready, waiting to carry them into the heart of the castle yards.

Ryden’s response was flooded with over-confidence, his tone unphased by the mass of naked bodies by their feet, “Have you met our King? Forget not how he gained the throne, fire and blood. He’s not going to give a flying fuck about this slight detour and a few corpses.”

Ser Gilbar paused, searching for the most apt description. “Mayhaps not,” he agreed, his brow furrowed in thought. “Our King however is rather meticulous... sometimes.” He gestured at the aftermath of their chaotic ambush, a grimace on his face. “And we have made a great mess of this already, more than what was needed.”

Ryden’s scoff echoed through the silence like a sharp rebuke.

“You waste your breath with this Gilbar, you speak of his majesty as if he did not viciously murder his own kin astride dragonback,” he retorted firmly. “The king won’t care about these fools.”

The sound of distant hooves reached their ears, and a hush fell over the entire group. All eyes turned toward the figures in the distance, watching as they drew nearer to their position. Gilbar found himself clenching and unclenching his fingers nervously, his discomfort mirrored by the other soldiers, each one fidgeting in their own way.

Riding majestically upon a powerful steed, King Aemond appeared like a demon spirit, straddling the boundary between man and shadow. With the glow of the moon and the distant stars on his back and raining through his long silvery white hair, his imposing figure was silhouetted in shadow, leaving his features in a shadowy veil. The air grew tense as a small group of Kingsguards who were also on horseback formed a protective ring around them, effectively caging them in a small clearing.

“What occurred here gentleman?” the King asked tensely.

Ryden bent his knee in hurried obeisance, echoed by the others. His voice carried an urgent tone as he sheepishly pleaded, “Your Majesty, I implore your gracious understanding,” Ryden began, bowing his head low. “Circumstances beyond my control have led us to deviate from our intended course.” His hunched stance reflected the towering presence of the king on horseback, a giant amongst men. “Our aim was to target an unguarded convoy, as instructed, but there was an unforeseen complication.”

Aemond dismounted with a casual grace, his armored boots striking the ground with a rattle that echoed through the clearing. A hint of mockery laced his tone as he spoke, his eyes narrowing on Ryden.

“Did you grow impatient, perhaps?” he drawled. “Is that why you decided to throw caution to the wind and deliberately disobey my orders?”

Ryden hastily corrected himself, his voice quick and strained. “No, Your Grace,” he protested. “It wasn’t impatience, I assure you – I only thought...it might be better to risk a slightly guarded carriage than wait any longer and risk missing our opportunity altogether.”

Aemond’s gaze hardened on him in the dim light, his lips curling into a wry smile. “Is that so? Hm?”

Aemond’s tone was dry and contemplative as he examined the slain bodies with his shrewd eye, shifting one of them with the toe of his boot.

“Despite the banquet being many hours away,” he remarked, “it seems your little endeavor began quite some time ago. And I’d hazard a guess that these unfortunate souls were dragged a fair distance just to end up here. So, not only were you impatient, but you also moved up your timeline considerably.”

Ryden’s voice was tinged with a hint of uncertainty, but he carried on, eager to defend his decision. “Yes, Your Grace, but it was not a thoughtless move, I assure you,” he reassured. “The road was deserted, there were no witnesses – ”

As Aemond stepped closer, his towering figure casting an intimidating shadow over him, Ryden’s false bravery slowly faded. He swallowed hard, but continued, “We thought – the risk was worth it. Taking on a few Valeman guards seemed the same as any other target.”

Aemond paused, allowing a lengthy, unsettling silence to fill the air. The quiet seemed to stretch on endlessly, only intensifying the tension. When he finally spoke, it was with a smile that was both patronizing and unnerving.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice dripping with irony. “A perfectly logical decision.”

Ryden looked up hopefully, the first hints of relief flitting across his face. “Your Grace – you mean...you understand?” he asked.

Aemond nodded, his voice tinged with a light, almost flippant tone. “Indeed. I would never oppose efficiency,” he said. “And you’re correct – the risk seemed the same either way, didn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, precisely your majesty,” Ryden nodded, eager to validate his decision.

Aemond smiled, his tone dripping with a veneer of graciousness. “Of course,” he continued, “The disappearance of these guards will not go unnoticed. When they fail to return to their commanding officers, questions will be asked. And when you arrive with no guards, they will surely ask about the missing soldiers, will they not?”

Ryden stumbled in his explanation, his voice laced with uncertainty as he suggested, “We say that a Hill Tribe ambushed us, perhaps?”

Aemond’s smile widened, giving a glimpse of his teeth as he responded with a dry humoring tone. “Ah, yes – a bold move on the part of the Hill Tribesmen,” he agreed, “Quite fearless to attack Vale Knights so close to Runestones instead of waiting further on the eastern roads, one might say?”

Ryden froze, feeling a sense of unease as he registered Aemond’s words. “It – it’s believable,” he protested.

Aemond’s tone remained steady and even, but his unsettling smile had turned fixed, lending an uncanny stillness to his features. “And you’re certain there was no possibility of someone witnessing your little transgression, considering you chose to fight them where they were and then dragged their bodies here after the attack? Instead of doing as I instructed and luring them off the road first.”

He tried to explain, but before he could say more, Aemond’s hand – encased in its armor – suddenly encircled his throat, cutting off the flow of words. The ait around them grew colder. Ryden desperately clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them away, but they remained firmly locked in place. Gilbar and the others instinctively withdrew their daggers, but none dared to intervene as Ryden struggled helplessly in the king’s iron grip.

Aemond’s voice cut through the tension, the quietness of his tone making his words all the more chilling. “I dislike unnecessary risks,” he stated simply, his gaze unflinchingly fixed on Ryden’s flailing form. “It was sheer good fortune that you weren’t discovered – mere happenstance. You gambled on the odds and fortune smiled upon you this time.”

Ryden gasped and wheezed, his pleas ignored by the king. He began to choke, but only when his struggle became more desperate did Aemond relinquish his grip, sending him sprawling to the ground. Then, with a careless twist of his foot, Aemond pinned his wrist beneath the heel of his boot, immobilizing him like a specimen on display. “My orders are not to be questioned or altered at your convenience,” he declared harshly. “I don’t issue them just for the sake of it. Understood?”

With a sickening crunch, Aemond stamped down with his foot, crushing the bones of Ryden’s fingers in a single brutal movement. The tortured sound of the breaking bones sliced through the night, accompanied by a sharp bark of pain that escaped from Ryden’s lips. He crumpled forward, cradling his injured hand against his chest, his body curving in submission like that of a wounded animal.

Aemond observed the scene for a few more seconds, a malevolent glint in his eye betraying his satisfaction. With a smooth motion, he swung himself back onto his horse, as if casually brushing aside the recent violence. There was almost a perverse enjoyment in his tone as he continued, “However, I rather like the tale of a Hill Tribesman ambush. It might raise some eyebrows, but it should hold up under scrutiny when time is limited. You may proceed with the plan as I have commanded.”

Ryden’s face still wore an expression of shock and horror, his features frozen in the aftermath of his suffering. He cradled his injured and now mangled hand close to his chest, his voice shaken as he protested weakly, “But...but my hand...my fingers...”

Aemond’s tone remained calm and nonchalant as he spoke, as if commenting on the weather rather than the mutilation he had just inflicted. “Really, you can hardly expect to be unscathed after a supposed altercation with hill tribesmen,” he remarked casually. “And there’s nothing quite as effective at diverting scrutiny as a bit of compassion, wouldn’t you agree?”

The king turned his back, "Ser Raynard! Be sure Ser Ryden is dealt with accordingly in the future?"

The Commander Raynard glanced down at Ser Gilbar and drifted his eyes over to the whimpering Ser Ryden.

The King and his entourage rode off into the night, the thumping of hoofbeats gradually fading away. A stunned silence lingered for a moment as Gilbar collected himself, knowing very well that the punishment could have been far more severe.

“You were correct,” he noted wryly, assisting the wounded Ser Ryden to his feet. “It wasn’t the corpses that troubled His Majesty.”

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Ser Trevor Belmore returned, bearing two goblets in his hands. With a courteous gesture, he offered one to her, a note of disappointment in his voice as he spoke. “I must admit, I had anticipated a more impressive display from the Targaryen King of Westeros. After all the tales of war and conflict, it seems we’ve been treated to rather...a different spectacle,” he observed with a slightly bemused tone.

His gaze shifted to the nearby gathering, where the King and his company engaged in a seemingly civil conversation with your second cousin, Lord Regent Gunthor Royce of The Runestones and Ser Eldric Arryn, the current heir presumptive to The Runestones. King Aemond, in contrast to his well-known reputation, had presented a surprisingly benign and even softened persona throughout the night. It made you disgusted.

Lady Laviniya received the goblet from Trevor with a modest bow of her head, then she gently swirled the drink, all while silently resolving not to consume any of its contents.

Lady Laviniya chuckled softly under her breath. “Yes, my cousin Ser Eldric had some interesting observations about the ferocious King Aemond....He called him a fat goose.” She whispered with a smile, her voice quieting to avoid any unwanted attention.

Trevor chuckled, his handsome, youthful face adopting a carefree smirk. “I wonder, Lady Laviniya,” he inquired playfully, “you speak of cousin Eldric, yet you have familial ties with the king as well, do you not? Are you not cousins also, through your father? And yet you seem to choose the company of your mother’s kin instead.”

Lady Laviniya tensed slightly, her fingers gripping her goblet a little tighter as she responded. “My blood,” she began, her voice firm and steady, “My blood, Ser Trevor, flows deeper in the veins of House Royce, the First Men who ruled these lands long before Aegon the Conqueror ever stepped foot on our precious Westeros, more deeply than that of the dragonlords of Old Valyria.”

Trevor dipped his head close, his smirk unwavering as he murmured in her ear, “Your silvery locks and pretty lilac eyes tell another story, my lady.”

Laviniya suppressed a grimace, her eyes closing briefly as she clenched her jaw. Though her hair had been elegantly arranged, the whiteness of her tresses and the unmistakable shade of her eyes betrayed her heritage. Her only safeguard was her well covering mask.

Her lips pursed into a thin line and she retorted, “Pray Ser Trevor, let us not forget, our current King cut down the Prince Daemon above Gods Eye? Who else is there for me to pledge my allegiances if not to the House of my mother, the mighty Royce name?”

To say the least, it was an insult. She didn’t want to be here, not in his presence. Aemond Targaryen was the kinslayer...the murderer of her father who sired her and the murder of his own brother, the usurper king before him Aegon Targayren. 

Though Laviniya even loathed her father at times, the brutal manner of his death left her with a sense of disgust, a bitter taste in her mouth.

Trevor’s eyebrow arched in skepticism as a smirk played on his lips. “I must admit, I struggle to understand how that unassuming fellow over there managed to fight in all those wars, battle after battle, and emerge victorious. And those wild tales of his savagery and ruthless conquests, ah, they fall short of the image I had in mind. Disheartening, indeed. What about you, my lady? Do you share my disappointment?”

One of Trevor’s companions, an older knight, leaned in with a hushed warning. “Mind yourself, my lord,” he murmured cautiously, “Keep your voice down. We don’t want any...unwanted attention.”

Trevor’s face scrunched into a dismissive sneer as he spoke. “Unwanted attention? We have no cause for fear,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

The companion knight shook his head, his expression grave. “You would do well to reconsider. They say the man has a temperament that changes like the wind. One moment, affable and pleasant, the next, vicious and volatile. And he has a reputation for being rather vindictive.”

The King’s actions went far beyond mere vindictiveness. He left a trail of atrocities in his wake, including public humiliation and severe punishment of those who dared to defy him. It was a shrewd political tactic of sorts, as it instilled an atmosphere of fear and obedience that led to few instances of resistance and swift surrenders.

It was hardly surprising that the southern kingdom had devoured its northern neighbors in a quick and ravenous expansion. While the King’s abilities undoubtedly played a part, it was his ruthless nature that truly paved the way for such rapid conquest.

In small secluded hallways it was often whispered that he was not only a kind but now titled, “Aemond The Conqueror.”

Despite his penchant for cruelty, there was no denying that King Aemond possessed a remarkable level of strategic skill when it came to warfare. He was a true master of tactics, his intellect and cunning rivaling his own ruthlessness. In all his years of battling, he had never tasted defeat.

The young lady’s lavender shaded eyes flitted impatiently back and forth, her pale nose wrinkling every time she caught a glimpse of her maidservant and friend Myrielle. Trevor was boastful and proud, but he possessed a striking appearance that drew admiring looks from some of her handmaidens. Even Myrielle couldn’t help but steal glances at him, finding his confidence and flourish captivating.

Trevor seemed keenly aware of the admiring looks he received, puffing out his chest slightly in an air of confident self-importance. “Your elder cousin should know that the men of Runestones can count on the support of my kinsmen, should the need arise,” he declared, his voice filled with the same noble pomp and bravado.

It brought a sense of reassurance knowing that the Belmore would stand at their side in their time of need. “Your people are truly gracious,” Laviniya replied, her smile carefully crafted to reach her eyes but lacking any genuine enthusiasm.

The pair took a small wander about the Runestones hall.

It didn’t take long for Laviniya to identify the troubadours, for they were the very same ones she had been gossiping about with Ser Trevor earlier. They were the musicians that the chamberlain had deemed to be substandard in their performance and had subsequently exiled them to the outskirts of the event, far enough away as to prevent any further embarrassment.

She noted with some fascination that the lute player appeared to have a broken hand, and her curiosity was piqued. Rumours had circulated about a group of troubadours that had been ambushed by bandits en route, and these seemed to be the very ones.

Ser Trevor, with a conspiratorial tone, leaned towards her and whispered, “I wonder if these troubadours are truly as atrocious as to be relegated here.” He continued, “Are you skilled in recognizing musical talent?”

She shrugged, “If they are genuinely awful, it shouldn’t take much skill to discern that,” She also added a touch of intrigue, questioning, “But is there such a thing as being so bad it becomes entertaining?”

As they approached the performance, an unexpected intermission abruptly halted the show. The jester stepped forward with a few fellow actors, his voice changing subtly to signify he was speaking out of character.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “I am regretful to report that our actress who was to play the role of Lady Saerra has unexpectedly taken ill.”

He continued, “However, rest assured, she is perfectly fine, merely indisposed and unable to continue the show. We kindly request that one among the audience volunteer to step in for her. Fear not! We have the script at hand, so all you need to do is place on this mask and read the words with a dramatic tone of voice!”

It seemed like the troubadours were having quite an unfortunate night. The jester’s desperate pleas for a volunteer were nearly causing her second-hand embarrassment. To add to that, she had a nagging feeling that if she lingered too long, they might enlist her as a volunteer – an uncomfortable privilege that came with being the fair lady, an easy target to be used as entertainment.

Determined to avoid the situation altogether, she subtly steered away from the scene. Thankfully, the lord seemed to understand her intent and loyally followed her.

Trevor chuckled softly, speaking in a lighthearted whisper. “I thought you might have jumped at the chance to showcase your performance skills and impress us all,” he teased.

As they distanced themselves from the jester’s plight, the lord brought up another unfortunate artist. “It appears that many performers are having a rough night tonight,” he observed. “Your lordly troubadour and now the plight of poor Lady Saerra.”

He continued with a dry smile, adding, “But at least I’ve spared you from my dubious lute-playing skills.”

With a deadpan expression and her head held high, she threatened Trevor in a serious tone, “If I hear so much as one verse from you, I will leave you here. I swear it.”

Despite maintaining her serious facade, she was comfortable enough with him now to tease him with playful threats. Her step increased slightly, keeping her slightly ahead of his. Myrielle who walked on her other side touched her wrist. The time was drawing nearer that her friend wanted to greet her squire outside soon.

Trevor lowered his voice to a whisper, his expression darkened with disdain as he cast a pointed glance at the Targaryen entourage. “Frankly, I find it baffling why your cousins would invite them or the King here and throw such a lavish celebration in his honour,” he said, his tone filled with disdain. “Imagine how Prince Daemon would feel, if he were still alive.”

Her smile wavered at the mention of her father, Daemon, as her slender figure seemed to shrink slightly, becoming more fragile in an unspoken display of sorrow. “You know, I think you’re right, Ser,” she admitted, her voice laced with an air of melancholy. “Aemond doesn’t appear to possess the aura of a conqueror, does he?”

Trevor understood the fragility of the fair ladies and looked genuinely remorseful. “I didn’t mean to bring back that painful memory,” he apologized. “What I mean is that inviting the Greens here is like letting venomous snakes into your own home. They cannot be trusted after what they have done,” he said firmly. He then paused for a moment before adding, “Of course, I know the decision was not yours to make, but rather your elder cousin’s.”

Laviniya gently touched Myrielle’s shoulder. “The Greens were notorious expansionists after the dance of dragons,” she said, “and I can’t say I’ve ever heard of an expansionist snake. No, you see Ser Trevor, The Greens are rather more like rabbits... Burrowing holes in crop lands and spreading their chaos across the valleys...At times I miss Aegon the Idle. He was not so formidable.” she added with a touch of sarcasm. Laviniya then motioned to move away. “Now, if you’d excuse me.”

Laviniya found herself growing increasingly frustrated. They were never going to get to discussing Myrielle, and Ser Trevor seemed capable of talking endlessly. Moreover, all this talk of politics wearied her, as it seemed to be at odds with the expected delicate sensibilities of young ladies as herself.

She couldn’t help but wonder if her elder cousin really believed they could make peace with a warmonger over a fancy dinner party. And if he honestly trusted that king, with his deceptively mild demeanor, to keep his word... Well, that was his prerogative. But Laviniya tried not to concern herself too much, as she did not want to face disappointment.

She flashed a warm smile once more to the young lord Trevor Belmore, this time allowing it to reach her eyes. With a graceful wave of her hand, she signalled for her Lady-in-waiting to follow her. The flowing silk of their gowns trailed behind them as they left in a swish of fabric, creating a mesmeric spectacle.

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒:

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬.

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