#frayed-rhea

[cinderswrites]

Frayed ::

three

In the midmorning hours the following day, Rhea had rushed through her chores and was getting cleaned up, putting on the dress that Portia had pulled out yesterday. She smoothed it over her figure, picking off a stray hair. From the bottom of the same closet she pulled out a pair of worn but decent looking dark brown shoes. These were salvaged from Scarlett’s massive collection.

Once feeling like she looked representable enough as a commoner, she grabbed one of her handmade bags and slung it over her shoulders. She didn’t expect to buy anything, mostly because she wasn’t paid to be a servant in her own home, and what she did have, she saved for only worst-case scenarios. But if she found a pretty flower, or a nice rock, she might pick it up to liven up her room a bit. She also had her sketching journal stashed inside which held many designs of dresses and clothing she wanted to make.

Bidding farewell to Portia, she left through the front door, feeling a strange sensation coming over her. How long had it been since she left without anyone demanding her presence, or anyone forbidding her from doing so? Years, definitely. Before the funeral and before Thelma, she was almost certain of that. Stepping down the stone steps and onto the path towards town, Rhea took a deep breath of clean air that had the slightest smell of the sea and smiled.

Median Shores was a quaint place. It used to be just a few houses of the nobles closest to the prior king. These days, it was a proper town, with more housing and shops and a proper town square. King Roland had been strict but fair, and he was also charming from what Rhea knew. He had a wife, but she ended up disappearing sometime before Rhea had been born. Because of her disappearance, the king fell ill and was sick for a long time. The searches for the queen eventually stopped once he neared death. When he died, there was no one to assume the throne other than his brother, the current king, Gareth Edwards.

Rhea remembered Gareth. He had lived with his family just down the road from her family. As she passed the now dilapidated structure, she paused and examined the yard. It was overgrown, with natural weeds and wildflowers growing thick and unruly. In her mind’s eye, she remembered herself and Cynfael, Gareth’s only child, running around and playing games together. Kicking a ball back and forth once in a while as their fathers visited over foreign relations and their mothers swapped family recipes. Both children on the ground, watching a line of ants marching towards food or their home. Days like that were rare back then, and impossible after Gareth took over the kingdom.

The last time Rhea and Cynfael had spent any time together was after King Roland’s funeral. They sat side by side on the beach, watching the water. The sun was setting and it was still a few days before the coronation.

Cynfael had picked up a stone and chucked it out with all the force a thirteen year old boy could muster. He let out a shout after it, hitting the sand with his fist. Rhea observed him quietly, and offered some words after he’d calmed down, “It’s okay, you know. To be mad, and to not like the situation you’re presented with.”

Cynfael sniffed and swiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “It’s not fair. None of it is! Because he died, now my life has to change and I… I won’t get to see you anymore.”

“Nonsense!” Rhea declared boldly. “Your dad will be king, and he’ll be one of the best we’ve ever had. You’ll see. He knows we’re friends, and he wouldn’t isolate you from your friends, right?”

He had looked at Rhea with a dampness to his amber eyes, “I suppose not…”

Rhea smiled brightly, reaching over to pat his hand, “Keep your head up, Cynfael. Everything will be okay.”

The boy nodded, “Can you promise me something?”

“Depends on the something,” she teased.

“Marry me. When we’re older, marry me so we never have to be apart!”

Rhea’s eyes went wide and her face heated up with his brazen proclamation. “I-“

He suddenly held up his hands, face paling. “Wait! Don’t answer. I don’t think I could handle it if you said no. Just… forget it.” She didn’t say anything, but after a few moments of silence both of them started giggling. Despite his seriousness, or lack of awareness of what he’d just asked, they had ended the evening on a brighter note than they entered it. That last day became a fond memory in her mind, and she’d hoped and prayed that he had grown into a fine gentleman as the years passed. It had been a while since the last time she’d thought of Cynfael, especially since she was cut off from most of the news in the kingdom aside from what was overheard in her own house.

Taking another deep breath to recenter herself and clear her mind, she gave a small wave to the old house and continued down the path to town.

***

Almost an hour later, she found herself in the town square, examining different trinkets and wares from various sellers. According to one of the townspeople she’d asked, today was the monthly Crafters’ Guild Market. Many people in the guild came to sell their products, much like the Farmers’ Markets she and her mother visited when she was a child. There were merchants and many more townspeople milling about, hauling wagons with goats or donkeys. Rhea found it fascinating.

She was bent over looking at a spinning flower pendant curiously just as there was a loud shout from a few stalls away. “Thief!” one of the merchants shouted at a thin woman.

“No!” the woman cried. “I swears by the heavens, I haven’t stolen a thing!”

Rhea stood up and walked closer, drawn in by the crowd forming. As a thin young woman herself, she slipped easily between people to see what was happening. An older man with a round belly was pointing to an empty spot on his table and he had one of the woman’s wrists in his other hand, clenching tightly. “Guards! Someone find the guards! This woman right here is a thief! She stole one of my fabrics!”

A low murmur passed through the crowd. Rhea noticed the fear in the woman’s eyes and her gaze traveled to the goat standing just behind the woman. There was a peculiar piece of “grass” hanging from its mouth. Rhea’s eyes moved to the man’s feet, just underneath the table. There was the crumpled pile of fabric, matching the piece in the goat’s mouth. She wondered if anyone else had noticed this while the man was still screaming about the theft.

Thudding footsteps alerted her to the sound of the guards coming, and she made the decision to step forward. She bent down to pick up the fabric on the ground and cleared her throat quietly. The man looked around before turning and seeing her. Noticing the fabric in her hands, he looked at her confused. “Pardon me, sir,” Rhea started, her voice calm. “Is this the fabric you’re missing?”

The man regarded her silently before dropping the other woman’s hand and nodding, “It is.”

“It was lying just under the table there. It seems the goat took a liking to it,” she added, amused.

He turned again to look at the goat, then groaned and snatched the fabric from her hands. He said something in a language she didn’t know and walked around to the back of the table. The woman stepped up to her and put her hand on her shoulder. “Oh, thank ye, miss, thank ye!” she said in a shaky voice. She scolded the goat and tugged on the leash as she hurried away from the man’s table.

The crowd dispersed and two guards had stepped up to talk to the man. Rhea smiled a little and turned to continue her browsing. Just as she did, she ran into someone’s chest. “Oh! Excuse me, I didn’t see you,” she apologized, stepping back to put space between them.

“Rhea?” an unfamiliar voice said her name.

She looked up, blinking. A man, taller than her by a few inches, stood with another even taller man at his side. He had short raven colored hair slicked back and shaved at the sides, with inquisitive amber eyes, a color that sparked her memory. “Cynfael?” she asked, astounded.

“You will address the royal prince accordingly, miss,” the man next to her old friend said in a gruff tone. Rhea noticed his piercing green eyes, the color of which reminded her of thick bright river moss. His mahogany colored hair was slightly longer than Cynfael’s and was left wavy, almost disheveled. She noticed a thick scar across his brow before she averted her gaze shyly.

“Alaric, please,” Cynfael put his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Rhea’s a friend, and she’s Henri Sr.’s daughter.”

The man named Alaric cleared his throat and adjusted his stance. “I wasn’t aware he had a third daughter. Please excuse my ignorance, my Lady.”

“O-oh, no, I’m not a lady. Please, just call me Rhea,” she said nervously, avoiding that intense stare.

Cynfael chuckled quietly, “It’s so nice to see you after all this time!” he exclaimed, raising his arms as if measuring the years between them. “You’ve grown so much.”

“You should talk,” she smiled, “there was a time, if I remember correctly, where I was taller than you once.”

He puffed out his chest, placing one of his hands on it like a proud pigeon strutting around. “Thank you.”

“What are you doing out here? Shopping?” Rhea asked, gesturing to the market.

“On a leisurely stroll, as it were. I like to come to town and see how people are doing,” the prince said, looking around. “We heard the commotion from the street over and came right away.”

Cynfael gestured to the man next to him and suddenly became embarrassed. “I apologize, I haven’t introduced you. Forgive my lack of manners,” he turned back to Rhea, “this is Alaric Vaughn, Captain of the Royal Guard. My babysitter, for lack of a better word.”

Rhea grinned at the joke, turning to offer her hand to the captain. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, Lady Rhea,” Alaric took her hand and brought it to his lips. The stubble around his mouth poked her skin lightly, and the feeling of his warm touch sent pleasant shivers up her arm. She blushed, feeling out of place.

“Are we interrupting you right now?” Cynfael asked.

Rhea shook her head, “Not at all! It’s the first time in a while I’ve been out, so I was surprised to see this market. I was just looking around.” “Doing some shopping of your own?”

Her smile was more polite than anything as she shook her head sadly, “’fraid not, my friend. My purse is lacking, to put it mildly.”

Realization crossed over the prince’s face, “Didn’t the port master leave yesterday for Silverwater? Why are you here?”

“Ah, yes,” she shifted her weight uncomfortably, “Father and Thelma left with their children.” Her words were matter-of-fact and didn’t offer any more than that.

Alaric’s ever-aware gaze flicked between the two and he spoke up to clear the awkward air, “Perhaps, my Prince, Lady Rhea here was left to ensure the upkeep of the home while they’re gone.”

Cynfael nodded, “Of course. My apologies for questioning you so, Rhea.”

Rhea shook her head and waved her hands, “It’s no trouble, don’t worry about it.”

“Well, since we’re here and it’s a rare occasion, would you mind joining me for tea?” Cynfael smiled kindly at her. “Perhaps a meal?”

Her eyes flicked between the kind face of her old friend and the steely expression of the captain. “I-I don’t have any money—“

“It’ll be my treat, Rhea,” Cynfael interrupted her. In a softer voice he added, “Please let me do this for you.”

She looked down at her hands while she ran excuses through her head. No matter what she said, he’d try to interject into her plans. That’s just how Cynfael was. She smiled at the thought that she was here, in the flesh, to see he hadn’t changed, that the royal life hadn’t made him cold or hardened. Rhea finally nodded, “Of course, Prince. That sounds lovely.”

“Fantastic!” Cynfael grinned, walking forward and placing a hand on the small of her back as they escorted her out of the market. “I know a little place overlooking the water.”

She felt both joy and trepidation at the impromptu lunch invitation, wondering if her earlier observations were completely accurate about the prince. Not only that, but it had been so long that she’d conversed with anyone other than children or Portia. What if she made a fool of herself? Talked herself into a corner? She couldn’t let him find out about the state of her wellbeing, not right now. Her burdens were her own to bear, she believed that and reminded herself of it as she continued to walk with both men.

[gracexthoughts]

the strong

jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!oc

warnings; slight canon divergence, cussing, canon typical incest, fighting, implied smut at the end (i cannot actually write smut to save my life sorry), s1ep8 spoilers ig summary; after vaemond's petition, aegon’s jesting, and aemond’s taunts, jacaerys is furious and seeks solace and advice from his step-sister and betrothed. inspired by tyrion telling jon to wear his bastardy “like armor so it can never be used to hurt'' him in the first ep of GOT (I’ve been rewatching to feed the brainrot) a/n; daenera is daemon’s eldest daughter from his first marriage, in my head daemon didn’t kill rhea and she died in childbirth just before rhaenyra’s wedding so daeny is about half a year older than jace but you can use your imagination as it doesn’t really matter.

“I dare you to say that again!” Jacaerys growls from the dancefloor. Daenera turns in her seat to see Jacaerys with his fists clenched, his eyes dark and glaring daggers at his uncle. The feast had been amicable considering the events of the day, but while the adults’ words of peace ring honest between them, animosity between the young princes, princess and ladies nears its boiling point. Prince Aegon has spent most of the evening cooing foul and crude jests to Jacaerys and Daenera about their soon approaching wedding. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Prince Aemond has added his own taunt to the pile: a thinly veiled comment on the Velaryon brothers' true parentage. 

“Why? Twas only a compliment,” Aemond defends, lowering his goblet to face Jacaerys, stepping towards him as he does. “Do you not think yourself Strong?” Jacaerys answers by bringing his fist up to Aemond’s jaw, the sound resonating through the hall. Lucerys leaps up from his seat, Vaemond’s slanders still heavy in his ears, but Aegon intercepts him, slamming him down on the table and sending food and silverware clattering from the impact. Daenera, ever protective of her siblings, leaps from her seat and wraps her arms around the eldest prince’s neck, putting all her weight against him to remove his hands from Lucerys. He grapples with her for a moment before she is ripped off by a Kingsguard. Knights separate Aegon from Luceryrs, Jacaerys from Aemond, and Rhaena pushes Baela back from leaping into the fray as well.

The Queen pulls her second son back, muttering angrily to him but he pulls away from her as Rhaenyra moves towards her sons and Daemon to his daughters. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family. Though it seems my nephews aren’t so proud of theirs!” Aemond continues to taunt, leveling a snide one-eyed glare at Jace. Jacaerys wriggles out of the guard’s grip and steps menacingly towards Aemond. 

“Wait, wait,” Daemon says, holding a finger up and stopping Jacaerys in his tracks, forcing him back to stand next to Daenera. 

“Go to your quarters, all of you. Go now!” Rhaenyra commands sternly, her eyes holding a warning as she stares down her eldest son and motions for the rest of her children, by blood and by marriage, to leave. 

“Come on,” Rhaena says softly, pulling her sisters along with her and out of the hall by their hands. Daenera relents with a sigh but not before squeezing Jacaerys’ and flashing him a sympathetic smile. 

“Are you alright, Daeny?” Baela asks as they make their way to their rooms.

“Fine, worried about the boys,” she mutters in reply.

“I’m sure Jace and Luke are alright, sister,” Rhaena says softly, wrapping her hand around Daeny and Baela’s arms. Daenera nods agreeing but still can’t shake the worry in her chest.

Near an hour later, a knock sounds on the door to Daenera’s chambers, pulling her from the depths of the book in her hands. “Come in!” she calls expecting one of her maids and, not bothering to stand from her comfortable position on the settee in front of the fire, turns to see who enters. “Jace,” the lady says softly as her betrothed steps into her chambers, his eyes still dark with rage. 

The pair have been betrothed for nearly ten years, the announcement made soon after their parents married, and as they grew up together they have grown a deep love for each other: a bond of unconditional trust and adoration between the future King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Jacaerys comes to crouch in front of her, placing his hands on her knees and caressing the joint over the silk of her night gown. His tunic is gone, leaving him in just his white undershirt and trousers, Daenera’s eyes trail to the bit of collarbone she can from her vantage point. 

“Are you alright? Did Aegon hurt you?” the prince asks, searching her deep purple eyes that snap back to his face at his words. 

“I’m fine, Jace. If I can match you in a spar, I can handle myself against that drunken lecher,” she chuckles slightly, setting her book aside and reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his brow. “Are you alright?” She asks, reaching for his hand with its already darkening skin. She’d let her hair down to hang around her shoulders and even clouded by anger as his mind is, Jacaerys notices her etherealness. She has always been a sharp and unsettling kind of beauty, her eyes seeming to have the ability to gaze upon your soul, but Jacaerys relishes her softer side. The side she so rarely shows others.

“Wish I’d gotten more blows in,” he grumbles, standing and pacing in front of the hearth, his shoulders tight and face scrunched in anger. 

“Maybe you’ll have a chance before we return to Dragonstone,” she offers with a smirk. “The cunts deserve it, the pair of them.” 

“Will I never be free of this? Of these slanders that are whispered in my wake? Will they sneer at me when I sit on the throne? Ignore my rulings and snicker-” 

“Jace, breathe,” Daenera pleads, concerned with the rising panic she sees in his eyes. 

“I cannot, Daeny!” the prince exclaims, “How am I meant to be a King, a leader, when I am not respected?” 

“Darling, we are barely eight and ten, you are second in line at present. Respect will come with time. Once your mother is Queen the people will become familiar with you, with your grace, your kindness, your justness,” she says, placatingly, reaching out for his hand, forcing him to stop his pacing and look at her. “They will forget the slanders the Hightowers murmur because you will be a good and just King. Besides, it's your mother’s blood that makes you royal, not your father’s.” 

“And yet there will always be those who call me a Strong. The King cannot take every single one of their tongues,” he says with a heavy sigh, running a ringed hand through his hair in distress. Daenera considers this for a moment, knowing it is true enough, and Jacaerys sighs, turning to face the hearth, planting his hands on the stone and gazing down into the flames. 

“So make it a compliment,” the lady says after a long moment, leaning back on her arm on the settee, her deep amethyst eyes watching the prince. 

“Make the doubt of my paternity a compliment?” Jacaerys scoffs, turning to her. “How in the Seven Hells-” 

“If they shall call you ‘Strong’ no matter what, the more you rage against it the more power the slight has. The only way to take away its power is to show it cannot be used to hurt or diminish you. Take it as your moniker and wear it like armor so all know tis not a weapon they can wield against you.” 

“Jacaerys the Strong?” he asks slowly, the wheels turning behind his eyes, unable to deny the intelligence of her council. He sits down slowly next to Daenera, his eyes fixed on a point on the rug.

“King Jacaerys the Strong, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” she purrs, leaning towards the prince, a smirk on her lips. She watches as a firelight dances in his eyes, his pupils dilating at her proximity. 

“Hm, not bad,” he smiles, and leans down, connecting his brow with Daeny’s, running a finger calloused from years of practice with a blade across her jaw. 

“What is it?” Daenera asks softly after a moment, pulling away to look into Jace’s eyes, sensing he is still feeling troubled. 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, not meeting her eyes. 

“Jacaerys,” she chides, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. 

“Just… fucking Aegon… I fear he is right in his jests. I have no idea how to please you as you deserve,” Jacaerys confesses shyly, pulling his face from Daeny’s hands as heat creeps into his face. 

Daeny cannot help the laugh that escapes her lips, of all the troublesome worries that the day has brought, her sweet betrothed worries of her pleasure. Sex is not something the pair have discussed in length yet, even though their wedding is a little more than a moon away. The pair tend to flit around such topics, even when they steal secret kisses in dark corners of Dragonstone and come away with scarlet cheeks and racing hearts. 

“And now even you laugh at me!” He exclaims exasperatedly and stands to move away but Daenera quickly stands as well, stepping in front of him and stopping him from leaving. She pushes him back to his seat and kneels before him, her hands on his shoulders. 

“No, my love, I’m not laughing at you, I’m sorry. Tis just that you should not concern yourself with such worries,” she says gently, running her hand from his broad shoulder to the toned expanse of his chest, feeling his heart beating under his skin. 

“But I-” 

“I have no more knowledge on how to please a man than you do a woman, Jace,” she continues, her voice placating and soft. “We shall learn together and be stronger and better for it.” Jacaerys meets her amethyst eyes, finding comfort in the truth and lack of judgment he finds in them. “Besides, I cannot believe that Aegon knows any more than you do. He has never had any care for anything besides his own pleasures and you heard poor Helaena’s toast. He targets you because he knows you are more generous and loving than he could ever hope to be.”  Jacaerys chuckles at this, knowing she speaks true of his uncle and melts into her touch at last. 

“You truly do not care?” He asks, toying with the ends of her silver hair that brushes against his knee. 

“Shall I prove it to you, my prince?” she purrs, a teasing mischief in her eyes as she runs a hand up his chest to the nape of his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips in a kiss. He sighs into her embrace, his hands finding purchase on her waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue darting between her lips. Realizing she is still kneeling on the floor in front of the settee, he grips her hips tightly and pulls her to straddle him, pulling a gasp from her lips which eggs the prince on. Jacaerys’ hands brush through Daeny’s hair, pushing it away from her face, and trail down her back to explore her figure; Daenera weaves one hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots and eliciting a groan she feels through her other hand which rests on his chest. 

Without warning, Jace stands and without breaking their kiss carries Daeny with him as he makes his way to the bed, resting her gently on the linen sheets and covering her smaller body with his. All his insecurities and rage momentarily forgotten as he loses himself in her, the only girl he has ever had eyes for, and proves to her, and to himself, just how strong a lover he can be.

[kodasmind]

Unexpected Allies pt 2

The Fight for Respect

**Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest**

The arena was electric with excitement as Damian Priest stepped into the ring for his match against Carlisto. The crowd roared as the bell rang, signaling the start of the bout. Damian and Carlisto exchanged powerful blows, their movements swift and precise. After a grueling back-and-forth, Damian managed to land his finishing move, securing the pinfall victory.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Damian stood tall, raising his arms in celebration. He soaked in the adulation, his focus momentarily on the audience and the adrenaline coursing through him. However, the mood in the arena quickly shifted as JD McDonagh, Finn Bálor, Liv Morgan, and Dominik Mysterio stormed down the ramp, their expressions filled with malice.

The crowd’s cheers turned into a chorus of boos as JD, Finn, Liv, and Dom surrounded the ring. Without hesitation, they attacked Damian, who was still celebrating his hard-fought win. Finn and JD pummeled Damian, while Liv and Dom joined in, their assault merciless and coordinated.

From the backstage area, you and Rhea Ripley watched the scene unfold on a monitor. Without a second thought, you both bolted towards the ring, determined to help Damian. As you reached the ring, the chaotic scene grew even more intense.

Liv had just delivered a brutal kick to Damian’s ribs when you and Rhea slid under the ropes. You immediately engaged Liv, tackling her and pulling her away from Damian. Rhea, eyes blazing with anger, made a beeline for Dom and JD.

Rhea’s fury was palpable as she charged at Dom. Dom barely had time to react as Rhea grabbed him, lifting him with ease. She was about to deliver a Riptide, her signature move, when Liv, having recovered from your earlier attack, rushed to Dom’s aid. Liv managed to intercept Rhea, shoving her aside and causing Rhea to lose her grip on Dom.

“Stay away from him!” Liv shouted as she squared off against Rhea, the two women glaring at each other.

You, meanwhile, were locked in a fierce struggle with Liv, keeping her occupied and preventing her from interfering further. The crowd's cheers were a mix of support for Damian and excitement over the unexpected melee.

Damian, using the chaos to his advantage, managed to push JD and Finn off him. He staggered to his feet, clearly exhausted but determined. With a furious look, he joined the fray, aiding you and Rhea against the combined forces of Dom, Liv, JD, and Finn.

Rhea and you worked together with a fierce intensity, each move calculated to take down the attacking group. Rhea delivered a series of powerful strikes, pushing Dom and Finn back. You used your agility to keep Liv and JD at bay, your focus sharp as you fought alongside Rhea.

Despite the odds, the combined effort of you, Rhea, and Damian began to turn the tide. JD and Finn, realizing they were outnumbered and overpowered, started to retreat. Dom and Liv, caught off guard by the unexpected alliance, followed suit, scrambling up the ramp to escape the chaos.

As the attackers fled, you and Rhea stood alongside Damian in the center of the ring. Damian, breathing heavily but clearly relieved, glanced at both of you with gratitude.

“Thanks for the help,” Damian said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I didn’t expect the cavalry to show up.”

Rhea, still catching her breath, gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Just doing what needed to be done. We’re not letting them get away with this.”

You met Damian’s gaze, your expression resolute. “Consider it a temporary truce. Next time, we might be on opposite sides again.”

Damian gave a small smile, clearly appreciative of the support. “Got it. Let’s take this victory for now.”

As the arena’s lights dimmed and the crowd's cheers began to settle, you, Rhea, and Damian stood together in the ring. The unexpected alliance, forged in the heat of battle, had made a powerful statement. Despite the tensions that still lingered, the night had proven that sometimes, even the most unlikely allies could come together in the face of adversity.

[fan-fantasies]

Fragile

A/N: we’re only 10 followers away from 5400, so if you’re seeing this, please follow!

Pairing: Rhea x fem!Reader

Warnings: size kink, fingering, oral f receiving

Rhea Ripley: the bane of your existence.

Ever since you joined the raw roster it was like she made it her mission to humiliate you. She was always calling you cute and fragile, simply because you were smaller than her.

She liked to spar with you in training so she could throw you around like a rag doll. You didn’t mind the training so much as it helped strengthen your skills against bigger opponents.

“Hey, can I see you in my office?” Adam Pierce called to you as you walked by.

“What’s up, boss?” You asked.

“You have a match tonight against Rhea, it’s a contenders match,” he said.

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“Rhea requested it actually so you should thank her.”

“Huh, yeah, I’ll go do that,” you said.

Why would Rhea request a contenders match against you? That was out of character for her.

You found her in the locker room getting her gear ready for the show.

“Hey, doll,” she said with a smirk.

“I heard you requested a match against me tonight. So thanks, I guess. Just wondering if there’s an ulterior motive behind it?”

“No ulterior motive. You know I love getting to rough you up,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, in training. We’ve never had a match before though.”

Rhea stalked toward you with a sinister smile on her face. She backed you against the wall, towering over you.

“Now everyone gets to see what a fragile little doll you are. I can’t wait for everyone to watch me break you.”

Her voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“And what if I win?” You asked bravely. She let out a chuckle.”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna ruin you,” she said in your ear. Your stomach did a flip and you felt yourself growing wet at her words.

She left you in the locker room to deal with your feelings. You could really use a cold shower but there wasn’t enough time. You had to get ready for the show to start.

When your name was announced against Rhea, the crowd went wild. The energy between the two of you was electric and they could all feel it.

She stood across the ring from you, staring you down with a hunger in her eyes. The bell sounded and you began to dance around one another.

You decided to take initiative and make the first move. You tried to kick out her legs but she dodged you and knocked you down effortlessly.

You got back up and charged at her, only for her to knock you down once more. She was toying with you and you knew it.

Before you could get back up, Rhea scooped you up and held you high in the air, her head between your legs. She looked up at you with a smirk.

“What a pretty view,” she said, before slamming you down on the mat.

You groaned and rolled over onto your stomach, needing a moment to catch your breath. Rhea climbed on top of you and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back.

“Everyone’s watching, little one. They love when I throw you around like the doll you are.”

She quickly picked you up and folded you into a riptide, slamming you back down. She rolled you up and pinned you in her signature style, grinding her hips into your ass. She looked down at you with a smirk as she kept you in that position way after the three count had finished.

You were hurting for sure, but you had to admit that having Rhea manhandle you had turned you on.

You hobbled back to the locker room and decided it was time for that cold shower.

You grabbed a towel and chose the stall farthest from the door. The water soon hit your body and began to relax your frayed nerves.

Only a few minutes passed before you heard the door open. Footsteps were getting closer to you before the curtain of your stall was ripped open.

“Rhea!” You shrieked, trying to cover yourself up.

“Did you think you could get away from me that easily?” She asked, stepping under the stream, pressing you against the wall. “Cold shower, huh? Something got you hot and bothered?”

“N-no,” you lied. Her large hand wrapped around your throat.”

“Wanna try that again?”

“You, you have me hot and bothered.”

“That’s what I thought,” she smirked. With her free hand, she pinned yours above your head. She began to kiss and suck marks onto your neck, causing you to moan.

“Rhea, please,” you whined.

“So desperate for me already,” she chuckled. “I’m gonna take care of you, little one, don’t you worry.”

She slid a hand between your thighs and quickly found your clit with her fingers. She finally pressed her lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your head was spinning between feeling her lips and her fingers working wonders between your legs.

“I want you to cum for me, doll, make a mess on my hand,” she demanded.

A few more seconds with her fingers on your clit and your legs went weak beneath you. If it wasn’t for her having you pinned to the wall, you were sure you would’ve collapsed.

She swallowed your moans with a kiss and let you come down from your high slowly.

“I want you on your knees for me,” she said. You didn’t even question her as you sank down before her. She looked down at you with the biggest grin on her face.

“You’re gonna eat me out like a good girl, understand?”

“Yes,” you nodded. She threw a leg over your shoulder so you’d have better access. She reached down and threaded her fingers through your hair, pulling you flush with her pussy.

You licked a strip between her folds and she threw her head back. You focused on her clit, dipping into her entrance every now and again to gather more of her wetness. She tasted amazing and it caused you to moan.

“Are you enjoying this, doll? Such a good girl for me,” she sighed.

You could tell she was getting closer by the way her grip tightened on your hair. She began to fuck herself on your tongue and was quickly cumming, doing her best to quiet her moans.

She pulled you back up onto your feet and kissed you, wanting to taste herself on you.

“Fancy coming back to my place tonight? I’m not done ruining you yet,” she said, looking down at you, taking your smaller hand in hers.

“Only if you promise to stop calling me fragile.”

“We’ll see just how much you can handle then,” she said with a smirk. You knew you were in for a long night.

[livdomtruther]

US TILL THE END.

It was Liv and Dominik's first official match together since becoming a couple, and the air buzzed with a mix of excitement and tension. The anticipation was electrifying, but the uncertainty gnawed at their nerves. They stood side by side behind the thick curtains that separated them from the roaring crowd and the glaring lights of the arena. Any moment now, a staff member would signal them to make their grand entrance.

Liv, usually confident and fierce, found herself nervously fidgeting with her hands. Her fingers twisted together, then untangled, only to repeat the cycle. She was so ready to face Rhea, to unleash the frustration that had been building up inside her ever since their last encounter. But no matter how much she tried to shake it off, a heavy lump of anxiety sat in her throat, refusing to go away.

Why couldn't she just swallow it down? She was tougher than this, stronger than this—but the nerves had a stubborn grip on her.

Then, as if sensing her inner turmoil, a familiar, warm hand gently intertwined with hers. The touch was firm, grounding her in the moment. Liv looked up to see Dominik smiling at her, his eyes filled with unwavering confidence and a tenderness that made her heart skip a beat.

"It'll be alright, amorcita. No te preocupes" he whispered softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. The nickname, "amorcita," wrapped around her like a protective shield, calming the storm inside her.

In that instant, Liv felt a wave of reassurance wash over her. With Dominik by her side, she knew she could face anything—even the daunting task of confronting Rhea. Together, they were unstoppable.

Taking a deep breath, she squeezed Dominik's hand, drawing strength from his presence. They were about to step into the ring not just as competitors, but as partners, and no matter what happened, they would face it together.

Dominik couldn’t help but smile as he saw Liv relax, even if only a little, at his reassuring words. It warmed his heart to know that he could ease her anxiety, even in such a small way. His feelings for her ran deep—so deep that words and actions could never fully capture the extent of his care. It was an emotion that filled every corner of his being, a protective instinct that made him want to shield her from every worry, every doubt.

Without thinking, he leaned in closer, resting his head gently against hers. For a brief moment, the chaos of the arena faded away, leaving just the two of them in a quiet, shared space. Dominik chuckled softly, the sound warm and affectionate. "You’re so tiny," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Liv, always quick to fire back, opened her mouth to argue, but before she could get a word out, the staff member gave them the signal. It was time. The teasing was replaced by a surge of adrenaline as the familiar sound of The Judgment Day's theme song boomed through the speakers, shaking the arena to its core.

Hand in hand, they stepped out from behind the curtains, immediately hit by the intense energy of the crowd. The arena was a swirling mix of cheers and boos, voices merging into a powerful wave of noise. Dominik and Liv moved as one, their steps in perfect sync as they made their way down the ramp towards the ring.

The lights flickered and pulsed with the beat of the music, casting an eerie glow over the sea of faces. Dominik kept his eyes focused ahead, but his thumb gently stroked the back of Liv's hand, a silent reminder that he was right there with her.

As they reached the ring, Dominik gracefully dropped to one knee, sitting against the middle rope and pulling it wide open for Liv with a charming, almost regal gesture. Liv couldn’t help but smile softly at the gesture, warmth flooding her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring crowd. She slipped through the ropes with fluid ease, her movements as graceful as ever.

But instead of stepping away, Liv turned back with a mischievous glint in her eye. She took her place at the ropes, mimicking Dominik’s earlier posture. With a playful grin, she held the rope open for him, defying the traditional roles with her own brand of charm.

Dominik let out a soft, amused chuckle, clearly enjoying the exchange. He accepted her invitation and slipped through the ropes, his tall frame moving with an effortless grace. Once inside, he reached out, his hand gently coming to rest on the top of her head, patting it softly in a tender, affectionate gesture that made Liv smirk up at him.

Without missing a beat, Liv sprang forward, her body moving instinctively. She leaped up, and Dominik, ever ready, caught her effortlessly with one strong arm, his other hand instinctively supporting her as her legs wrapped securely around his waist. The arena, the noise, the impending match—all of it melted away as she rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Liv’s nose brushed against Dominik’s, a gentle, affectionate nuzzle that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

They stayed like that for a moment, their warm smiles reflecting the deep connection they shared, a silent conversation passing between them in that brief, tender exchange. Then, with a soft sigh, Liv slowly unwrapped her legs and slid down from his embrace, her feet landing lightly on the mat.

Soon after Rhea and Damian made their dramatic entrances, the match began with a surge of intensity that electrified the entire arena. Before the bell rang, Liv and Dominik shared a brief, tight hug, their hearts beating in sync as they prepared for the battle ahead.

The match started with Damian and Dominik clashing fiercely in the ring, their movements fueled by the pent-up anger and tension that had been brewing for weeks. Every punch, every grapple, was delivered with force, each man determined to overpower the other. The crowd roared with every heavy hit, the energy in the arena building to a fever pitch.

Liv stood on the sidelines, her voice ringing out above the noise as she cheered Dominik on, her eyes never leaving him. But across the ring, Rhea’s glare was locked on Liv, her eyes burning with anger and something darker, a resentment that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. The tension between the two women was palpable, and Liv could feel Rhea’s hatred searing into her with every passing second.

When the moment came for Liv to enter the ring, she took a deep breath, remembering the strategy she and Dominik had agreed upon. They would let Rhea and Damian believe they had the upper hand, drawing them into a false sense of security before turning the tables. But as soon as Liv stepped between the ropes, she realized she wasn’t fully prepared for the sheer aggression Rhea was about to unleash.

Rhea wasted no time. The moment Liv was within reach, Rhea charged forward, her movements swift and brutal. She grabbed Liv and, with a powerful surge of strength, executed a flawless fallaway slam. Liv’s body slammed against the mat with a sickening thud, the impact driving the air from her lungs. She gasped, desperately trying to regain her breath as pain radiated through her body.

Dominik, who had retreated to the corner, watched with wide eyes, his breath coming in heavy, anxious bursts. His fists clenched tightly around the ropes, the tension evident in every muscle as he fought the urge to rush to her side. The plan was to stay calm, to let Rhea believe she was in control, but seeing Liv in pain made it difficult to stay still.

Liv’s mind raced as she lay on the mat, her body aching from the force of Rhea’s attack. She could hear Rhea’s footsteps approaching, could feel the cold, calculating intent in each step.

As Rhea continued her relentless assault, her fury seemed to grow with each strike. She suddenly paused, her gaze snapping to Dominik, who stood tense in his corner, eyes locked on Liv. The sight of him only fueled her anger, the betrayal she felt like a sharp blade twisting in her chest.

Grabbing Liv by the hair, Rhea yanked her up, her voice dripping with venom as she spat, "You chose her ?!" The words were laced with a mix of jealousy and rage, her grip tightening as she glared at Dominik, daring him to respond.

Dominik’s smirk was slow, deliberate, and filled with a confidence that only seemed to provoke Rhea further. “Yeah, I did!” he shot back, his voice steady and unwavering. His eyes never left Rhea’s, knowing that his words would cut deep, aiming directly at the vulnerable spot beneath her tough exterior.

And cut they did. For just a moment, Rhea hesitated, her hand faltering in its grip on Liv’s hair. The raw emotion that flashed across her face was quickly masked by anger, but that split second of hesitation was all Liv needed.

Seizing the opportunity, Liv brought her knee up with all the force she could muster, slamming it into Rhea’s midsection. Rhea gasped, the wind knocked out of her as she stumbled back, momentarily stunned. Liv didn’t waste any time. With a fierce determination burning in her eyes, she followed up with a series of harsh kicks, each one driving Rhea further back.

Fueled by adrenaline and the need to prove her strength, Liv launched a flurry of aggressive hits, her fists connecting with Rhea’s body and face. The rapid succession of blows was powerful, each one fueled by all the frustration and anger that had built up inside her. Rhea tried to regain her footing, but Liv was relentless, her strikes landing with precision and force.

The crowd roared in response, the arena buzzing with the sudden shift in momentum. Dominik watched, his heart pounding, pride swelling within him as Liv took control of the situation. He knew this was her moment, her chance to show Rhea—and everyone else—just how strong she truly was.

As the match progressed, the intensity in the ring skyrocketed, spiraling into chaos. The once orderly battle quickly devolved into a frenzy, with bodies flying and fists landing everywhere. The crowd erupted as the rest of The Judgment Day members stormed the ring, turning the match into an all-out brawl.

The air was thick with the sounds of bodies colliding, grunts of effort, and the relentless roar of the crowd. Liv fought valiantly, her focus shifting between her Rhea and Dominik, making sure he was okay. The ring had become a storm of movement, the chaos swallowing everyone in its path.

Amid the whirlwind, Dominik found himself sliding back into the ring, his heart racing. But as he regained his footing, he suddenly froze. Standing directly in front of him, with a wicked smirk curling her lips, was Rhea. The intensity in her eyes made his breath catch, and for a split second, everything else faded away.

Dominik’s eyes widened, fear and hesitation warring within him. He knew he couldn’t lay a finger on her—despite everything, despite their history, he knew as a man he couldn't put his hands on a woman. Rhea saw the advantage and her smirk widened, sensing the power she held over him in that moment.

Without warning, she lunged forward, her hands latching onto him with a vice-like grip. Dominik’s instincts kicked in, and he tried to twist away, to slip out of her grasp, but Rhea was relentless. She pulled him closer, her strength catching him off guard. He struggled, the sudden rush of panic setting his nerves on edge, knowing he was trapped, unable to fight back as Rhea’s hold tightened.

Liv, breathless and battered, dragged herself across the ring, every movement a testament to her willpower. The crowd’s roar was a distant cacophony as her vision swam, and her fear intensified with the realization that she could no longer see Rhea. The dread of what might be happening to Dominik clawed at her.

In the midst of the chaos, Rhea had methodically intensified her assault. She had executed a series of precise, punishing blows before climbing to the top rope. There, with a calculated viciousness, she wrapped her powerful legs around Dominik’s neck, pulling him into a debilitating submission hold. The sheer strength of her grip constricted around him, her muscular thighs squeezing with a brutal force.

Dominik’s eyes widened with a primal fear as he felt the life being squeezed from him. The panic was overwhelming, the tightness around his neck compressing not just his airways but also his heart. The onslaught of Rhea’s past abuses replayed in his mind, each memory a jagged shard of pain. He recalled the manipulation, the gaslighting, and the emotional torment that had convinced him for so long that such cruelty was normal.

Yet, amid the suffocating pressure and the haunting recollections, a single, steadfast thought pierced through the darkness: "I have Liv." This thought was not just a fleeting comfort but a beacon of hope and strength. Liv was more than just his partner; she was the very light of his life, a constant source of warmth and clarity that had dispelled the shadows of his past.

The way Liv looked at him, with eyes full of unconditional love and fierce support, was a stark contrast to the torment he had known. Her smile, her touch, her unwavering belief in him had been his salvation. In the darkest moments, she had been the one to help him see beyond the manipulation, to understand that he deserved respect and kindness. Her love was a guiding star in his world, cutting through the darkness and offering him a path to healing.

As Rhea’s legs tightened, Dominik’s heart ached not just from the physical pressure but from the profound realization of what Liv meant to him. The pain of the hold was a brutal reminder, but the thought of Liv's unwavering love was his anchor. He clung to the image of her—her eyes, her touch, her strength—knowing that her love was the reason he could hold on, even as his world threatened to collapse around him.

Liv was not just a part of his life; she was the essence of his joy and strength. Her presence was a radiant light that had illuminated his path through the darkest of times. With every beat of his heart, he held onto the hope she represented, determined to endure and emerge from this ordeal for her—and for the future they dreamed of together.

As Liv's vision cleared, the sight of Rhea cruelly holding Dominik in that punishing submission hold ignited a volcanic rage within her. It was as though a switch had been flipped, unleashing a torrent of fury that consumed every part of her. Her pain and exhaustion evaporated, replaced by an all-encompassing, primal anger. The world around her narrowed to a singular focus: the sight of Rhea inflicting torment on Dominik.

Her breaths came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inhale a reminder of the seething anger that was now her only reality. Her chest heaved violently with every breath, the rhythmic rise and fall a testament to the intensity of her rage. Her hands, once trembling from fatigue, clenched into tight, white-knuckled fists, the skin stretching taut over the knuckles as if to contain the fury that was ready to explode.

Liv forced herself to rise, every movement powered by a ferocious determination. The pain that had previously dulled her senses was now an afterthought, engulfed by the raw, consuming anger. She was no longer merely Liv; she was a tempest of fury, driven by the sight of Dominik's suffering. The man she loved was being brutalized, and that reality ignited a fierce, protective fire within her.

With a guttural, blood-curdling scream that seemed to echo off the walls of the arena, Liv charged towards Rhea. The sound of her scream was like a war cry, a powerful declaration of her intent to defend her beloved. Rhea, startled by the sheer force of Liv's rage, momentarily lost her composure, loosening her grip just enough to give Dominik a chance to escape.

Liv's attack was relentless and fueled by the image of Rhea’s cruelty replaying in her mind. Every punch, every grapple, was driven by the indignant fury she felt at seeing Dominik being tormented. The love she harbored for him transformed into a fierce, almost animalistic protectiveness, propelling her forward with a strength born from pure, unadulterated anger.

As she and Rhea collided outside the ropes, Liv's position on top was a small victory in the midst of chaos. Her rage was a blinding, almost intoxicating force, making her movements swift and decisive. The anger that consumed her was not just a reaction but a powerful force, transforming her into a relentless avenger, determined to right the wrongs done to the man she cherished.

Liv’s rage was an unstoppable force, burning with a fierce intensity that showed no signs of diminishing. Her focus on Rhea was unrelenting as she continued her brutal assault, her every move fueled by a protective, almost feral anger. With a powerful grip, she hurled Rhea into the unforgiving steel stairs, the crash echoing through the arena as she stood, breathing heavily, trying to steady herself amidst the chaos.

Her eyes then locked onto Dominik, who was battling Damian in the ring. The sight of him, worn and fatigued, reignited her protective instincts. It didn’t matter who stood in her way—anyone who dared to hurt Dominik was an enemy in her eyes. The thought of him being in danger sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through her veins.

With determination blazing in her gaze, Liv climbed onto the apron, her attention fixed on the action inside the ring. She was ready to intervene, to protect the man she loved at any cost. But in a split second, her focus wavered, just long enough for something unexpected to happen.

Damian, in a desperate attempt to regain his footing after a powerful exchange with Dominik, stumbled backward with force. His much larger frame collided with the ropes, sending them snapping back with a violent recoil. Liv, standing precariously on the apron, was caught off guard by the sudden movement. The ropes slammed into her, and the impact sent her crashing down onto the hard mat below.

The collision was brutal. The combined force of the ropes and Damian’s weight sent Liv flying off the apron. She didn’t just fall; she was practically thrown onto the hard mat below with a force that was far greater than anything she’d experienced before. The impact was brutal, and pain exploded through her body as she hit the ground with a sickening thud.

The air was knocked out of her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath, her vision swimming from the sheer force of the fall. She lay there, stunned and momentarily disoriented, the world spinning around her as the pain radiated through every part of her body.

Dominik's eyes widened in sheer panic as the sight of Liv crumpled on the mat sent a surge of dread through him. In that moment, every ounce of exhaustion vanished, replaced by an urgent need to be by her side. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he bolted towards the ropes. With a forceful shove, he pushed a stunned and worried Damian out of his way, his focus solely on Liv.

He slipped through the ropes with practiced ease, landing beside Liv and dropping to one knee. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for her, his fingers gently brushing aside the strands of blonde hair that had fallen across her face. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps as she fought to collect herself, the pain from the fall still radiating through her body.

“Are you okay, princesa?” Dominik’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, laced with a deep concern that was impossible to hide. His eyes were filled with worry, the emotion so raw and genuine that even Damian, standing nearby, was left speechless. This was a side of Dominik that he had never seen before—not even when they had been on good terms. The vulnerability and tenderness in Dominik’s gaze were startling, a stark contrast to the fierce competitor he usually was.

Dominik looked as though he might cry, his hands cupping Liv’s face with the utmost care. His thumb gently caressed her cheek, his touch tender and protective. He gazed at her as if she were the only person in the world, his attention so completely absorbed by her that it was as if the rest of the arena had ceased to exist. In that moment, it was just the two of them, a bubble of calm in the midst of the chaos that surrounded them.

Dominik leaned down and placed a soft, reassuring kiss on Liv's head. The simple gesture conveyed everything he felt in that moment—love, concern, and an unspoken promise to make things right. Liv, still in pain but fiercely determined, positioned herself against the commentators' table, trying to steady her breathing and gather her strength.

Liv, still catching her breath, managed a small, reassuring smile despite the pain. “Get him, Dom,” she whispered, her voice soft but filled with a quiet determination.

Those three words were all it took to snap Dominik back to reality. The realization hit him like a tidal wave—Damian had been the one to hurt her, even if it was unintentional. The worry in his eyes was quickly replaced by a steely resolve, his expression hardening as he gently released Liv and stood up. The tenderness from moments before was now replaced by a fierce determination as he turned his gaze towards Damian, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than ever.

Dominik had always been protective of Liv, but now that protectiveness had evolved into something more—a need for retribution, to make sure that no one ever hurt her again.

When Dominik finally turned to face Damian, the change in his demeanor was palpable. The softness he had shown Liv was gone, replaced by a cold, seething anger that radiated from his very core. His eyes, usually so warm and expressive, were now dark, filled with a fury that sent a chill down Damian’s spine. It wasn’t the Dominik that anyone in the arena knew; this was someone else entirely, someone consumed by a need for vengeance.

Dominik rose slowly to his feet, each movement deliberate, his gaze never leaving Damian. He could feel the darkness closing in around him, the words "Damian just hurt Liv" echoing endlessly in his mind. The thought alone was enough to make his blood boil, his vision narrowing until all he could see was Damian—the man who had hurt the person he cherished most in the world.

The rage inside Dominik had been simmering for a long time, but now, it had finally boiled over. He moved with a deadly calm, his body taut with tension as he walked toward the ring, every step heavy with purpose. Damian, sensing the shift in Dominik’s demeanor, instinctively took a step back, his confusion evident as he tried to process what was happening. This wasn’t the Dominik he knew; this was someone unrecognizable, a force driven by a singular, blinding anger.

Dominik slid into the ring, his movements fluid and purposeful. The moment his feet touched the canvas, he exploded into action. With a speed and intensity that caught Damian completely off guard, Dominik lunged at him, his fists flying as something deep inside him snapped. The controlled, strategic fighter was gone, replaced by a whirlwind of raw, unbridled fury. Every punch, every strike was fueled by the thought of Liv’s pain, of Damian being the one responsible for it.

In that moment, Dominik was no longer holding back. He had unleashed something primal, something that had been building inside him for far too long. The anger, the protectiveness, the overwhelming need to defend Liv—all of it had come to the surface, and there was no stopping him now.

Dominik's fury was unleashed in a storm of relentless attacks, each one more powerful than the last. "DON'T YOU EVER PLACE YOUR HANDS ON MY GIRL!" he roared, his voice echoing through the arena as he continued to rain down harsh blows on Damian. The words were filled with a fierce protectiveness, a command that left no room for argument. Dominik was like a man possessed, his every move fueled by the anger and love that surged through him.

Damian, normally a formidable opponent, found himself utterly defenseless. Dominik wasn’t giving him a moment to recover, not even a second to catch his breath. Every time Damian tried to block or retaliate, Dominik was already there with another strike, keeping him off balance and on the defensive. It was a side of Dominik that had never been seen before—an aggressive, unrelenting force that was overwhelming Damian completely.

With a swift and precise movement, Dominik grabbed Damian and set him up for the Tres Amigos—a tribute to the legendary Eddie Guerrero. He executed the first suplex with a surprising ease, his strength fueled by pure adrenaline. As he rolled through to hit the second suplex, the crowd could feel the intensity in the air, the passion behind each movement. And then, with a powerful lift, Dominik completed the third suplex, slamming Damian into the mat with an impact that shook the ring.

But he wasn’t done. Not even close. Dominik pulled Damian up again, his face a mask of determination and fury. With Damian barely able to stand, Dominik set him up for a 619, his signature move. The crowd roared as Dominik launched himself between the ropes, the momentum sending him crashing into Damian with full force.

Liv, despite the pain coursing through her body, watched proudly from outside the ring. She could see that Dominik’s potential was finally blossoming, that he was no longer the unsure young man he once was but a force to be reckoned with. Her heart swelled with pride, even as her body ached from the earlier impact. But as she glanced towards the ring, her pride quickly turned to concern.

Rhea was moving, her eyes locked on Dominik as she prepared to step inside the ring. Liv knew exactly what Rhea intended to do, and she wasn’t about to let it happen. With a determined grimace, Liv began to crawl towards the ring, her movements fueled by the same protective instincts that had driven Dominik earlier.

As Rhea slipped into the ring, positioning herself against the ropes to attack Dominik, Liv seized the moment. She pulled herself up onto the apron, using every ounce of strength she had left. Without hesitation, she lunged at Rhea from behind, catching her completely off guard. With a swift motion, Liv hooked Rhea’s arm and delivered her finishing move, the Oblivion.

Liv jumped up, kicking off the middle rope as she grabbed Rhea by the head, driving her face-first into the mat with a force that echoed through the arena. The move was executed perfectly, the impact stunning Rhea as she hit the canvas with a thud. Liv landed gracefully, her breath heavy but her determination unwavering.

Dominik smirked with determination as he climbed to the top rope, the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he prepared to deliver the final blow. The crowd was on their feet, anticipation hanging in the air as he leaped off the turnbuckle with the precision and grace of a seasoned high-flyer. The Frog Splash was executed perfectly, his body crashing down onto Damian, who Liv had expertly positioned in the center of the ring.

“1… 2… 3!” The referee’s hand slapped the mat for the final count, and the arena erupted in a deafening roar. The victory was theirs, but in that moment, it wasn’t the win that mattered to Dominik and Liv. As the crowd celebrated around them, the only thing that mattered to them was each other.

Dominik rolled off Damian and immediately found Liv, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace. Their smiles were wide, their eyes shining with a mixture of relief, love, and pure joy. The connection between them was palpable, an unbreakable bond that had only grown stronger through the chaos of the match.

The referee approached, attempting to lift their hands in victory, but neither of them budged. They were lost in each other’s presence, holding on as if they never wanted to let go. In that moment, the world outside their embrace seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their shared triumph and relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Liv whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the cheers of the crowd. But as she pulled back slightly, her smile faltered, replaced by a concerned frown as she noticed the dark bruise forming at the corner of Dominik’s eye. The sight of it made her heart ache, knowing how fiercely he had fought not just for the win, but for her.

Dominik, however, was oblivious to his own pain. His entire focus was on Liv, his gaze locked onto her with an intensity that made her feel as if they were the only two people in the world. His hands gently found their way to her face, cradling it with the same tenderness he had shown earlier. His thumbs traced the delicate lines of her features, as if he was reassuring himself that she was really there, safe and with him.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a gentle caress, a stark contrast to the fury he had unleashed on Damian just moments before. There was a vulnerability in his eyes now, a deep concern that mirrored her own, and it made her realize just how much he truly cared.

Liv nodded, her own hands coming up to cover his, feeling the warmth of his touch. “I am now,” she replied, her voice filled with emotion, knowing that whatever they faced, they would face it together.

Although Dominik was bruised and his body ached from the battle, none of it mattered in that moment. All he could focus on was Liv. The love he felt for her was beyond words, an overwhelming emotion that filled his heart and made the pain seem insignificant. His eyes sparkled as they looked at her, a mixture of admiration and deep affection lighting up his gaze. Despite his exhaustion, he reached out, his fingers gently adjusting a stray lock of her hair. Liv’s tired giggle in response was like music to his ears, soothing the remnants of the storm that had raged within him.

“I’m so proud of you, Dom,” Liv whispered, her voice tender and full of sincerity. She paused for a moment, letting the words sink in before adding, “Always.”

Those simple words healed something deep inside Dominik, something he didn’t even realize needed healing. They filled a void left by the harsh judgments and manipulations he had endured in the past. With Rhea, he had always felt like he was falling short, never good enough. But with Liv, he felt whole. She made him feel valued just for being himself, without conditions or expectations. She made him feel loved, truly loved, in a way he had never experienced before.

A smile spread across his face as he looked at her, his heart swelling with emotion. “And I’m forever proud of you, Liv,” he replied softly, his voice full of genuine admiration. He leaned in, resting their foreheads together in a gesture of shared comfort and understanding. Both of them were exhausted, but in that moment, they found strength in each other.

As they stood there, lost in their own world, Damian and Rhea were seething, glaring daggers at the pair from the other side of the ring. Their anger was palpable, but it went unnoticed by Dominik and Liv, who felt as if they were the only two people left on earth. The connection between them was something special, something unbreakable. They had faced so much together, and in doing so, they had healed each other in ways neither of them fully understood.

In Dominik's eyes, Liv was his light—his own personal sunshine. She had this way of brightening up everything in his life, casting warmth and clarity over even his darkest moments. Just being near her made the world feel right, as if she chased away the shadows that had once clouded his heart. She was his source of joy, his beacon of hope, the one who made him believe in himself when no one else could. Every time she smiled at him, it was like the sun breaking through a stormy sky, filling him with a warmth that made all his pain and doubts fade away. Liv was more than just the woman he loved; she was the light that guided him, the very center of his world.

To Liv, Dominik was like the moon, a soft and steady presence that illuminated her darkest nights. He was the quiet comfort she turned to when the world felt overwhelming, the calm in the chaos. Just as the moon reflects the sun’s light, Dominik reflected her love, radiating it back to her in a way that made her feel safe and cherished. In her moments of doubt, when everything seemed to be falling apart, Dominik was there, shining through the darkness and giving her the strength to keep going. He was her balance, the one who understood her in ways no one else did, bringing light into her life just when she needed it most.

Together, they were like the sun and the moon—two halves of a whole, each one completing the other. Liv brought brightness and energy into Dominik’s life, while he offered her the peace and stability she craved. They balanced each other perfectly, their love a constant cycle of giving and receiving, lighting up each other's world in ways they never thought possible. As they stood there in the ring, holding each other close, it was clear that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always have each other.

Liv smiled up at Dominik, her eyes shining with the love she felt for him, before placing a soft kiss on his lips. The kiss was brief but filled with emotion, a silent promise of the bond they shared. Dominik grinned in return, feeling more content than he ever had before.

With a gentle nod, he helped her out of the ring, their hands still intertwined as they made their way backstage. The world outside their love seemed distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was that they had each other, and in each other, they had found a place of safety, comfort, and unending support. The bruises and aches would fade, but the love they shared—strong, unconditional, and healing—would last forever.

[littlest-w01f]

Heated

Eris x Rheana (See Rheana here)

For @acotar-omegaverse-week

Omegaverse week 2024 Masterlist

Day 2: Turning Up The Heat

Summary: Eris had kept this side of him a secret for so long that he didn't think he'd get so desperate for his mate when his heat hit

Cw: Heat, pegging, Alpha!Rheana, Omega!Eris, FxM, mentions of B*ron's abuse of Eris at the end, Smut 18+ MDNI

A/n: I would like to really thank the week mods for giving me an excuse for writing Rheana pegging Eris cause I've been dreaming about this moment since day one

Rheana walked the halls of the Autumn palace, looking for Eris, she could sense his distress through their bond, and should've known something was wrong with him when he excused himself from a very important meeting, something he normally wouldn't do, she found him in their shared chambers.

Eris lay on the bed, gasping for breath, as Rheana entered the chamber, her keen senses immediately picked up on the change in Eris's scent. The normal aroma was now laced with a heady sweetness, unmistakable evidence of his heat. His body glistened with sweat, each muscle taut and quivering as he struggled to catch his breath.

She reached out a hand, gently brushing back a strand of damp hair from his forehead. "Eris," she whispered softly, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. "It's okay, my love. I'm here for you."

"Rhea..." Eris whined, chest rising as her skilled hands worked his tunic off, "I... I don't... I don't know what's wrong with me."

Rheana's eyes softened, "Oh baby, nothing is wrong with you... You've just gone into heat."

Eris groaned at Rheana's words, his body writhing under her touch. He tried to speak but all that came out were guttural sounds of need and desire. His eyes fluttered open, revealing dark eyes clouded with lust, reflecting the burning fire within him.

Rheana's fingers deftly removed his tunic, exposing his chiselled torso. Every inch of him seemed to burn hotter than usual, every nerve ending screaming for relief. His cock twitched against his pants, straining.

"Rhea," he moaned again, reaching out for her. "Please… help me."

Rheana nodded, her fingers deftly working at Eris's pants, freeing his hard cock. His clothes fell away, and he lay bare, body burning with arousal, the scent of his slick thick in the air.

"I know it must seem overwhelming," Rheana continued, her voice low and comforting. "But we'll get through this. Just remember how good it feels once we're through, alright?"

Eris nodded weakly, unable to form coherent thoughts anymore. All he could focus on was the throbbing ache between his legs, begging for release. His cock sprang free, standing proud and eager, dripping precum wherever it could reach.

Rheana's hands were gentle yet firm as they caressed his thighs, spreading them wide to give her better access. Her touch sent sparks shooting through his veins, making him buck his hips upwards instinctively as she gave his cock a few strokes before leaning in to lick at the head, sucking softly.

"Oh-" he breathed out, watching as Rheana leaned down to take him into her mouth.

Eris's back arched off the bed as Rheana's warm, wet mouth enveloped his throbbing cock. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive head, teasing and coaxing out more precum. She took him deeper, her mouth massaging his cock as she bobbed up and down.

"E-ahh! Rhea!" Eris cried out, his hands tangling in her hair to have some semblance of hold. His hips rocked in time with her strokes, trying to fuck her face with desperate abandon, but she moved at her own pace. The sensation was intense, bordering on pain, but he couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. Not until he exploded down her throat and from the scent of his pheromones, Rheana knew he wouldn't last long at all.

The pleasure coursing through Eris's body was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Each stroke of Rheana's talented tongue sent waves of ecstasy crashing over him. He pulled her closer, his cock hitting the back of her throat with every thrust.

His breathing grew ragged, his moans turning into pleas for release. "Rhea… I'm close," he panted out, feeling the coil inside him tightening rapidly.

Rheana hummed around his cock, her hand moving to the curve of his ass, fingers trailing till they found his hole wet with slick, watching his reaction she plunged a single finger in.

The unexpected intrusion made Eris cry out loudly, his entire body tensing up. But the shock quickly turned into pleasure as Rheana's finger began to move inside him, stretching and preparing him for what was to come and he exploded down her throat. He bucked wildly against her mouth as Rheana drank his release, licking him clean, the dual sensations of her lips working his cock and her finger probing his ass nearly too much to bear in his aftershock, twitching slightly. "Fuck! Rheana… please…"

She pulled off his cock, giving the underside a few long licks, "Please what, my sweet omega?" She teased, her finger still moving in his ass.

Eris's mind was foggy with lust, his thoughts fragmented and incoherent. All he knew was that he needed more, needed Rheana to fill him completely. "Please… fuck me," he begged, his voice strained and desperate. "I need you inside me, now."

"Aww, look at you, you've leaned to beg so sweet," Rheana cooed, using her free hand to stroke his cock as she added another finger in his ass, stretching him

The addition of a second finger sent Eris spiralling even further into madness. He screamed out loud, his body shaking violently under Rheana's relentless assault. His cock throbbed in her hand, slowly growing hard again.

"Cauldron… yes!" he roared, feeling her fingers curl inside him, stroking that sweet spot that drove him insane. "I'm…!"

The second orgasm hit Eris like a sudden tidal wave, sweeping him off his feet and carrying him away on its crest. His cock pulsed violently in Rheana's hand, his seed spurting forth in thick ropes that landed on his own chest and stomach. His cries echoed throughout the room, raw and primal, as he rode out the waves of pleasure that racked his body.

As the spasms finally subsided, leaving him panting heavily, Eris managed to open his eyes. He looked down at himself, covered in his own cum, and then at Rheana who was still there between his spread legs. A lazy smile crept onto his lips, satisfaction painting his features.

"Feeling better, my darling?" Rheana cooed, asking softly, still stroking him in his after-shock, "Do you want more?"

Eris let out a content sigh, feeling utterly spent but also incredibly sated. His muscles relaxed, the tension seeping out of him slowly. "Yes," he admitted breathlessly, looking into Rheana's eyes. "I always want more when it comes to you."

Rheana stood up to her full height, pulling her fingers out of his ass, he didn't know when, but she had removed her clothes, his eyes wide as he sees her wearing her strap, deep purple in colour and fit her taste perfectly, "Well then, hope you're prepared." She smiled sweetly.

Eris watched, captivated, as Rheana stood up. His gaze drifted lower, taking in the sight of her naked body, curves highlighted in the dim lighting of their bedroom. His eyes widened further when he saw the strap hanging from her hips. He swallowed hard, anticipation coursing through his veins.

"I'm ready," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "For whatever you want to do to me."

She smiled, getting on top of him to position herself on him, Eris gasped as he felt the tip of the strap against his ass, she pushed in fully, stretching his ass completely he groaned sharply as Rheana impaled him on her strap-on, the thick shaft stretching his ass to its limits. He felt every inch of her penetrate him, filling him completely. The pressure was intense, almost painful, but it was a good kind of pain, one that only served to heighten his arousal.

His hands flew to her hips, gripping tightly as he tried to adjust to the sudden invasion. Rheana started to move, her hips rolling in a slow, deliberate rhythm that had Eris moaning in ecstasy. With each thrust, he felt himself being driven deeper into the mattress, his body submitting completely to hers.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room as Rheana pumped her hips, driving the glass strap in and out of Eris's stretched asshole. The slickness of his own fluids provided the perfect lubrication, allowing her to move with ease.

Eris's moans grew louder, more desperate, as he surrendered to the pleasure. His hands gripped her hips harder, urging her on, pleading silently for more. The sensation of being filled so completely, of having his ass pounded by Rheana's strap, hitting the sweet spot inside him with every stroke, was intoxicating, driving him closer and closer to the brink of another orgasm.

Eris loved every moment of being pegged by Rheana, relishing in the way her hips ground against his ass, the way her strap filled him completely. He could feel every ridge and bump of the glass toy, each movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his body.

His moans were constant, his body writhing beneath hers as he gave himself over to the pleasure entirely. His cock throbbed with need, precum leaking steadily from the tip. He was so close, teetering on the edge of another powerful orgasm, pain and pleasure twisting in his belly.

Eris' eyes filled with tears as Rheana leaned forward to kiss his eyes, kissing all over his face, his eyes rolled back in pleasure as Rheana leaned forward to claim his lips in a hard kiss, his legs locked around her as she claimed him with every thrust, "Shhh... Baby, just feel me."

The kiss was hard and passionate, matching the intensity of their lovemaking. As Rheana continued to pound into him, her movements became more erratic, less controlled. Her grip on his hips tightened, her nails digging into his skin slightly.

Eris tried to meet her every thrust, his legs locking around her waist to pull her even closer. The sensation of her strap plunging into him, coupled with the taste of her lips on his, the taste of his cum on her lips and tongue, was enough to send him spiralling towards climax once again.

After several more minutes of relentless pounding, Eris's body finally succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure. He cried out loudly, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. His cock twitched and spasmed, releasing yet another load of cum onto his stomach.

He went limp underneath Rheana, completely spent and satisfied. His body was covered in a layer of his own sticky fluid, making him look like a work of art. But despite his exhaustion, he couldn't help but reach out for her, wanting to hold onto her as he both came down from his high.

Rheana gently touched his cheeks bringing a small smile to Eris's lips, despite the exhaustion clouding his mind. As she slowly pulled out of him, he let out a low groan, feeling the stretch of his ass as she withdrew.

She took care not to hurt him, her movements slow and measured. She slid off to the side, waving her strap away the way she had done with her clothes, cleaning him fully with the same motion, laying beside him and pulling him into a tender embrace. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close as they both caught their breath.

Eris clung to Rheana's muscular arms, his fingers digging into her flesh as he held onto her tightly. Soft tears left his eyes, trickling down over the bridge of his nose, his temples and onto the pillow beneath him. He wasn't sure why he was crying, maybe it was just relief from the intense session they'd just had.

Regardless of the reason, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. The scent of her, mixed with the lingering smell of sweat and sex, was comforting.

"Eris, you never have to be embarrassed about your needs ever again." Rheana sighed, holding her omega close to her, still sensing his heat, stroking his back gently, "I know you were never allowed to feel your urges fully, but now you can..." She knew, his father had forced him on supplements after whipping him through his heats to try to force him to control his pheromones, but he had failed, because no omega could hold their urges during their heat forever, it wasn't natural to.

He snuggled closer to her, enjoying the warmth of her body and the steady beat of her heart. Despite everything, he felt safe and loved in her arms, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. "You didn't get to cum..." He whispered, his eyes heavy.

"We can worry about me late," Rheana kissed his temple, sending him off to sleep. "Rest well, my love,"

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Eris Taglist - @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies}

{Flames and Darkness Taglist - @anuttellaa @tuggboatfishin @inloveallthetime}

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (19)

The Petition

When Vaemond Velaryon petitions the Crown to grant him succession of Driftmark, Arianwyn is faced with her worst fears.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: Partial beheading

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn was woken the following morning not by Brynna, but by her half-sister Rhaena, who had snuck into her rooms to lay a gown at the foot of her bed. Unfortunately, Arianwyn was so unsettled by her father’s threats from the night before that even the gentle sound of fabric on fabric startled her from sleep.

“I'm sorry," Rhaena said, wincing when Arianwyn burst awake and scrambled out of bed, banging her knees against the stone floor. "I didn't mean to wake you. Rhaenyra asked that I bring this dress for you to wear today, and I couldn't find Brynna."

With her heart still pounding, Arianwyn shook her head. "It's fine. I… I was having a bad dream."

"Do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"The dress."

"Oh," Arianwyn had, in truth, been so startled that she hardly processed Rhaena's words, much less see what she was holding. Then, pulling the sleeve of her nightgown back over her shoulder, she stepped to the end of the bed to examine the dress.

It was one she recognized – a red gown with open, flowing sleeves and gold wrist cuffs. Rhaenyra had favored it when her children were young, but Arianwyn thought it had been retired when the brocade had begun to fray. Indeed, when she looked closely, she could see where hasty repairs had been made. But, from a distance, it looked as beautiful as ever.

"She wants me to wear this?"

Her half-sister smiled, holding the gown up to try and see how it would look. "Isn’t it sweet of her?”

Arianwyn grimaced. As she had sent a message to the court with her gown yesterday, Rhaenyra would do the same today. To clothe her in a dress that once belonged to the princess would indeed create the image of a united family that Rhaenyra desired to present to the court.

Rhaena was still waiting for an answer, but Arianwyn could not say anything she knew her sister wanted to hear.

“Red doesn’t suit me,” she said instead. Not an agreement, but also not an insult.

“Well, I think it will look beautiful on you,” Rhaena chirped, far happier than Arianwyn had ever been so soon after waking. “May I help you dress, or shall I find Brynna?”

Begrudgingly amused by her sister’s unrelenting cheer, Arianwyn smiled and nodded. “I think Brynna would appreciate a morning to rest.”

Rhaena immediately set to work, beginning with her hair. Having been born with even thicker curls than Arianwyn, she had become quite an expert in caring for wily hair. And while she tried very hard to convince Arianwyn to let her use a new braiding technique she had learned, she eventually relented to her desire to wear her hair unbound.

Arianwyn’s warming mood waned when she donned the dress. It was far from a perfect fit. Her well-developed curves were apparently inherited from the Royce line rather than her father’s blood, for the gown strained around her chest and hips but hung loosely over her waist.

A shame. She had been hoping the dress would not close.

After giving herself a distressed look in the mirror, Arianwyn turned back to Rhaena. “See, I told you I would look horrid in red.”

“I have never seen a person look so pale,” Rhaena agreed. “It is as if you’ve been rolled in flour.”

Both girls immediately gave in to laughter, wheezing and snorting in a very unladylike manner.

It was then that Brynna finally entered the room, mouth falling agape at seeing the girls in such a state. “By the Seven, what are you doing?” she asked, failing to keep her voice stern. “And Aria, why in the world are you wearing such a wretched dress?”

Arianwyn’s laughter immediately stopped, and she glanced self-consciously down at herself. “Princess Rhaenyra requested that I wear this today.”

Brynna gave her a pitying, understanding smile. Rhaenyra’s ‘request’ was to be obeyed as an order. “I’ll see if I can find a belt somewhere, try and salvage some semblance of beauty.” With that, she gave a quick curtsy and went back through the door.

Sitting back at the vanity, Arianwyn fiddled with the gown's sleeves. The heavy cuffs on the wrists were already grating at her patience, and she would surely be cold all day and have to resist the temptation to cover herself with her arms. But the awkward dress was the least of her problems. After what Daemon said to her the night before, she did not know how he would react when Otto Hightower called her to the throne to petition for her release. Her hand trembled as she brought it up to her neck to finger a necklace that was not there.

Rhaena stepped up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What did our father say to you last night?"

Arianwyn met her sister’s violet eyes through the mirror. “Do you really want to know?”

“No,” Rhaena answered. Daemon had long been the one source of discomfort in their relationship. “But if it is the reason you are so nervous this morning, I must.”

“They scolded me for being alone with Prince Aemond,” Arianwyn admitted, “warned me of the consequences should rumor spread.”

It was a very generous summary of the conversation. Long ago, perhaps Arianwyn would have given her the unvarnished truth. Taken a cruel pleasure in seeing Rhaena’s perfect image of their father shatter to reveal the monster beneath. But the scratches she had once inflicted upon her had long since faded.

Neither of them were the same girls they had been in that tunnel. Those girls would hate each other forever. But now, Arianwyn and Rhaena were sisters.

And that meant that Rhaena could tell when her sister was lying.

“Was he very cruel to you?” she asked, though, from the look of dread on her face, it was clear she already knew the answer, or at least suspected it.

Arianwyn nodded, blinking tears from her eyes. “Even more than usual.”

Rhaena surged forward, clutching her sister in a tight embrace. “I am so sorry, Aria. I wish there were something I could do.”

“There is nothing I would ask of you,” Arianwyn assured. “Just know how much I have valued your kindness – your sisterhood. And that I love you. I truly do.”

“I love you too, Aria.”

Rhaenyra was the last to arrive in the Throne Room, likely a strategic move on her part. Aemond only saw it as arrogant and disrespectful, though not nearly as much as placing Aria in the back of the procession. From her letters, he knew that it was just another of Daemon’s small cruelties. She had even told him that when little Aegon and Viserys were present, she was made to walk behind the nursemaids carrying them. Still, it stoked enough anger in him that he had to cross his arms behind his back to conceal his clenched fists.

Once Aemond saw Aria, it was hard to look away from her enchanting beauty. It took him a moment to recognize the dress she wore from his youth, when Rhaenyra would visit the nursery. Why was Aria wearing it now? He knew she didn’t like to wear red – or rather, Brynna did not like it – and she must be freezing with her shoulders and arms bared.

Several other men were watching her as she followed Rhaenyra and Daemon to the front of the room. Logically, Aemond knew it was perfectly normal for men to enjoy the sight of a beautiful young woman, especially one dressed so ostentatiously. Still, it felt like they were lusting after something that was his.

But she was not his to protect, as he was reminded when Daemon met his eye. His uncle dared to flash a smug grin, setting Aemond’s blood aflame. Clutching his fists tighter, he suppressed the urge to go to her, to shield her from both her father and the leering eyes of the gathered men.

He turned back to Aria, hoping to catch her eye, to no avail. Her gaze was trained on the ground, eyes flitting back and forth as they always did when she was nervous. One of Daemon’s other daughters stood next to her. Was it the one that had wounded her face? No, that was the elder, who now stood with Princess Rhaenys. This was the younger, Rhaena, who had endeared herself to Aria in the past years.

Indeed, Rhaena was holding Aria’s hand. How he wished he could do so. That he was the one to stand by her side and comfort her, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

When Aria smiled shakily at whatever her sister had said, his fantasy shattered, the lust clearing from his vision in an instant. Gods, she was afraid.

Her free hand trembled, even as she bunched it in her skirts. Her bare shoulders were taut with tension as they rose and fell with each quick breath she took. The ease and grace she showed when they were together yesterday were gone, replaced by barely concealed fear.

What had Daemon done to her?

Whatever it was, Aemond would make him regret it.

But before he could move to her or speak, his grandsire called the court to order.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto boomed from atop the dais, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.”

Daemon scoffed as Otto Hightower sat upon the Iron Throne.

Arianwyn raised her eyes from the floor to watch the proceedings, shaking as she tried to steady her breath. She had nothing to fear, she reminded herself. In less than an hour, she would be free to cross the throne room to stand with her true family – with Aemond.

“The crown will hear the petitions,” the Hand continued. “Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Vaemond stepped to the center of the room. “My Queen,” he said, bowing his head toward Alicent before facing the throne. “My Lord Hand.”

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria,” he began. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name.”

In the corner of her eye, Arianwyn saw Daemon and Rhaenyra exchange a look. She shuddered to think what it might mean.

Vaemond dropped his arms, standing tall and proud even as Daemon scowled at him. “I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin – his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons,” Rhaenyra interjected, “the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition.”

Arianwyn clenched her jaw as she glared at the back of Rhaenyra’s head. She was fast approaching her limit on her stepmother’s hypocrisy. Had she not lied to the court about the true parentage of her sons for years to protect her ambitions? Only last night, had she not stood idly by as her husband revealed his intention to whore out his own daughter to further their shared ambitions for the throne?

Perhaps sharing Daemon’s words would sway the court in both Vaemond's and Arianwyn’s favor.

But before Arianwyn could even loosen her jaw, the Queen spoke. “You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent scolded. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

As Vaemond turned to face the Princess, Aemond, at last, caught Arianwyn’s gaze. But rather than smile, as she expected, he frowned, widening his eye as if to ask if she was well.

She smiled softly, nodding her head. Though nervous, she was well. Aemond’s shoulders drooped slightly with relief, and the corners of his lips turned upward. Something about that smallest of smiles made Arianwyn’s stomach turn loops.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?” Vaemond asked Rhaenyra, who refused to even look at him. “I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

With an angry glance at Luke, Vaemond again turned to the throne. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition,” he declared. “I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, and the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto said from his seat atop the Iron Throne, dismissing the knight. “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, striding lazily toward the center of the room as if she had been asked by her nursemaid to clean up after herself rather than formally address the Hand of the King as he sat the Iron Throne.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer,” she said, her boredom and disdain clear in her voice, “I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very – ”

Her words were cut off when the throne room doors burst open, and the King, with a gold mask covering half his face and leaning nearly all his weight on a cane, began to hobble into the room.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

No, Aemond wanted to shout as he watched his father enter the Throne Room. He wanted to storm up to him, seize the cane, and watch him fall and delight in it. The old fool had not left his rooms in weeks, yet now he emerges, walking under his own power?

Any hope of Driftmark now passing to a rightful Velaryon heir was gone, as was Aria’s chance to escape Daemon.

Aemond had needed nothing from the king. Had asked him for nothing. But it did not matter. Rhaenyra had obviously done so.

Viserys would summon a miracle for his eldest daughter and her bastards.

Yet for his other children, he couldn’t even do nothing.

Arianwyn could not tear her eyes from her once-beloved uncle as he made his way, ever slowly, toward the Iron Throne. His back was so deeply hunched that he now stood no taller than herself. What little hair he still had hung in long, limp tendrils around his sunken, blemished face. He gasped for breath as he walked, revealing his many missing or rotted teeth.

This was not the king Arianwyn remembered. Seeing him in this state, she understood the exhaustion and worry on the queen’s face.

The king was dying. Had been for a long time, it seemed.

He stopped at the base of the dais, facing Otto Hightower, who had come down from the throne to meet him. “I will sit the throne today,” he rasped.

“Your Grace,” Otto said, nodding as he stepped away from the throne. It seemed the Hand was as surprised as anyone by the appearance of the poorly king and nearly as reverent.

When Viserys stumbled on the first step of the dais, Ser Erryk Cargyll leaped forward to catch him. But the king waved him away.

Arianwyn turned away from the heartbreaking sight. She had held on to her anger at the king for so long – for his treatment of Aemond on Driftmark and for allowing Daemon to take her. But she had never wanted to see him suffer – certainly not like this. She had loved him dearly, once.

She looked to Aemond, hoping to find answers or reassurance in his gaze, but he did not look at her. His eye was focused on his father. Though his expression remained unreadable, Arianwyn could see the rage simmering within his eye – the hatred.

The clattering of metal drew their attention back to the throne. The king’s crown, the same his grandsire wore when he was king, had slipped from his brow onto the stone steps.

Arianwyn tensed as Daemon stepped forward. With Dark Sister at his side, he could easily kill the king here and now and place his wife on the Iron Throne. But he did not, and the steel remained sheathed.

Daemon knelt by his brother’s side and picked up the crown. He wrapped his arm carefully around Viserys and guided him up the steps to the throne. And with a tenderness Arianwyn had never seen, her father crowned the king and retreated from the throne.

Seeing that her father was capable of love, that he had the capacity to be gentle and kind to those he truly cared for wounded her long-damaged heart. To know that when he could be so caring, he still chose to hate her so fiercely.

When Daemon again took his place beside Rhaenyra, Arianwyn felt a familiar cold settle in her veins. But, this time, she was sure it was there to stay.

“I must… admit… my confusion,” the king rasped. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, your grace,” Rhaenys answered as all eyes turned to her. She gazed with a guarded expression at Vaemond before stepping to the throne.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon.” the Princess’ voice held hesitation, though few noticed it. “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Arianwyn turned to Rhaena. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

Rhaena shook her head, genuine shock in her eyes. Though she did not seem displeased by the prospect.

The king smiled. “Well… the matter is settled,” he declared. “Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Silence fell over the hall. Arianwyn’s own heart sank as she realized what the decision meant. The king was still as stubborn as ever. He still favored his firstborn daughter and the cost of the plain truth. Even if Arianwyn pleaded with him as she had planned and shouted the truth of Daemon’s crimes for all to hear, she was sure he would deny her and send her back to Dragonstone with her father.

Where Daemon would be free to punish her for insulting him in front of the court.

But Arianwyn was not the only one crushed by the King’s choice.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond Velaryon spat, stalking towards the throne as a lion to its prey. “Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“‘Allow it?’” Viserys hissed. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

No one in the room dared move, or even so much as breathe as they stood in wary anticipation at what the would-be heir would do next.

 “That,” Vaemond shouted as he turned on Lucerys, pointing an accusing finger at the nervous young boy. “Is no true Velaryon. And certainly no nephew of mine.”

Rhaenyra stepped in front of Luke, “Go to your chambers. You have said enough.”

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” Viserys said with a strength greater than his withered body would suggest. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

Pity burst within Arianwyn’s heart. Vaemond was right. They could all see it. Rhaenyra was stealing his birthright in broad daylight, and no one would defend him.

“You,” Vaemond barked at the King, “may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides! And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this…” He bit back his words as he turned to Rhaenyra, righteous anger twisting his face.

“Say it,” Daemon whispered. A challenge and a threat.

It pushed Vaemond over the final ledge.

“Her children are bastards!” he screamed, “And she is a whore.”

A furious whisper echoed around the room. No one had dared voice such an accusation for years, let alone so brazenly in front of the King. Aemond smiled – an involuntary gesture. Surely Vaemond was not so foolish as to think Viserys would ever admit the truth. He had learned that for himself the night he lost his eye. The left side of his face seemed to pulse with pain as a reminder.

Indeed, the king raised himself from the throne and brandished his Valyrian Steel dagger in a shaking hand. “I will have your tongue for that.”

Aemond’s smile fell when he heard Aria scream.

Her shriek pierced the ears of everyone in the room, drawing their eyes not to her but to Daemon. And the near-headless body of Vaemond Velaryon falling at his feet.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon quipped.

Aemond did not see his sister clap her hands over her ears and turn away. He did not hear Otto shout for Daemon’s disarmament. He did not see his father collapse on the throne. He did not even see the growing pool of blood on the throne room floor.

All he saw was Daemon wiping the blood from his blade as he turned back to his family, eyes locking with Aria’s. He saw her face blanch and her lips tremble as she fought her tears and the bile rising in her throat. He saw the hope fade from her silvery eyes as she turned and ran from the room.

Not caring who saw, Aemond pushed past his brother and followed.

Aemond caught up to Aria as she fell to her knees in an empty courtyard far from the throne room. He could hear the clanging of the metal cuffs on her wrist as they scraped through the gravel, and his heart wrenched as she listened to her agonizing sobs.

“Aria,” he whispered as he knelt beside her, gently laying a hand on her bare shoulders. “Aria, I’m here.”

When she turned to face him, her face softened with relief. But when he laid a hand on her cheek to wipe away a tear, another cry tore through her. He took her in his arms as she fell into him, and before he could stop himself, he bowed his head forward and laid his lips on her soft cheek, kissing away another tear.

But she did not recoil from him. Rather, she seemed to melt into his touch. Grasping the side of her face in one hand, Aemond ran his nose along her face, unwilling to break the connection, and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

Aria leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck like he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground as her tears came harder and faster. He did not know what to say, how to calm her from her frantic state. So, he simply pulled her closer, cradling the back of her head and whispering sweet words into her ear.

After a long while, her breathing finally slowed. She tightened her arms around him and whimpered against his neck, “He killed Vaemond.”

“I know,” Aemond said, gently rocking her in his arms.

“In front of everyone. He killed him. And no one did anything.”

“I know.”

“What will they do when he kills me?”

Aemond froze, utterly paralyzed as he heard his worst fear spoken aloud. The world seemed to disappear, leaving only him, Aria, and her horrible words.

He felt his jaw twitching as he struggled to appear calm, for Arianwyn’s sake. “He will not kill you,” was all he could bite out.

“He will,” Arian declared. “He said so himself.”

Aemond pushed her back so he could see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and the rims of her eyes deeply red. Tears still fell from those beautiful eyes, and her lip trembled as she stared back at him.

“He told me that all I was worth was my ‘virgin cunt,’” though her voice was shaky and weak, she did not stop when Aemond hissed at her words, “and that if I did anything to jeopardize him selling me off, he would have no reason to keep me alive.”

She didn’t give him even a heartbeat to reply before she grabbed the collar of his coat and whispered, “He killed my mother.”

“What?”

“He hated her. He wanted her gone. So, he killed her.” She was rambling madly, the story spilling forth without control like fire from a dragon’s maw. “He paralyzed her, broke her back and so many bones. And he raped her. It was his final insult. He raped her, and then she bore me.”

Aemond brought his hands up to cup her jaw. Her gentle voice and the feeling of her blood flowing beneath his palms were the only things keeping him from racing back to the throne room and gutting anyone who stood between him and Daemon.

“Gerold and her Maester offered her moon tea,” she halted when Aemond’s hands tightened on her cheeks. How could she even say such a thing? That a single decision made the difference between him having Aria here, with him, and her having never existed made his stomach hollow. What would his life have been without her?

“She refused,” she explained, and he relaxed slightly. “She knew she would not survive the birth, but she did not want him to forget her. So, she had me as her revenge. That is why he hates me. I am a living reminder that he could not break her.”

Aemond growled, leaning forward to press his forehead into Arianwyn’s. “You are not a revenge nor a reminder,” he rumbled. “You are a person. A beautiful, wonderful, kind, and unbearably good person.”

He stood, raising her with him and wrapping his hands around her waist to hold her steady. “You are so much more than…” he could not bring himself to repeat Daemon’s cruel and crude words, “than whatever your father says you are. You are the Lady of Runestone and a daughter of House Targaryen. If anyone dares harm you,” he hissed, all his hatred and rage alight in his eye, “I will burn them to ash. I would reduce the whole world to embers to protect you, Aria.”

Aemond’s declaration shocked her into silence, though she was unsure why. He had made many such threats when they were children, once even promising to feed her future husband’s head to Emrys if he dared hurt her. But somehow, this threat felt different.

It felt real.

Because it could be, she realized. He was no longer a dragonless little boy playing at ferosity, but the warrior prince who rode the largest dragon left in the world who had helped Aegon and his sisters conquer the continent. If he wanted, he could follow in their footsteps and conquer whatever lands he wished.

Perhaps it should make her afraid, that he was capable of such violence. But it only made her feel safe that he would do so on her behalf, and proud that he was now the man he always wanted to be. She stepped forward, resting her head on his chest, saying with her touch what she could not say with her words. Thank you.

Neither she nor Aemond noticed Princess Rhaenys stalking toward them. Not until she grabbed them by the shoulders and tore them apart.

“By all the gods,” she scolded. “Can the two of you not even try to act as though you are guided by your minds and not your…” she examined Arianwyn with an appraising gaze.  “Your hearts,” she finished.

Aemond released one hand from Arianwyn’s waist as he stepped protectively in front of her, his free hand drifting over the dagger he had strapped to his belt. His mouth was a hard, straight line, and the fire in his eye could have boiled the Narrow Sea to vapor.

“Oh please,” Rhaenys scoffed. “If you really think she has anything to fear from me, you’re even stupider than your drunken fool of a brother. Aegon, obviously. I hear Daeron is quite well-behaved.”

When the attempt to defuse the tension with her wry humor did not sway Aemond for a moment, Arianwyn pressed against Aemond’s shoulder, pulling his hand back from the pommel of his dagger. After only a moment of hesitation, he relaxed from his defensive posture, leaning back into her touch.

 “What is it you want, princess?” While his voice was soft, Arianwyn could still hear the threat buried beneath his words.

“I would like to speak with Arianwyn,” she answered. “Privately, if you would permit it, my prince.”

Aemond glanced down at Arianwyn and every so slightly raised his brow. A question. Depending on her answer, he would either stand aside or whisk her to safety. She squeezed his arm, giving him a slight nod and a weak but reassuring smile. A moment passed, and she nodded again, a harder set to her grey eyes. Then, hesitantly, Aemond released her from his hold and, after a moment spent looking at her with an intensity that made her heart race, stepped away.

Arianwyn did not say anything or even move until Aemond was out of sight. When she finally turned to Rhaenys, she felt her eyes start to water once more, though she did not know why. “What is it you wanted to speak to me about, Princess?”

Rhaenys held her arm out for Arianwyn to take, “Come, let me walk you to your rooms.”

The women walked in silence through the long halls of the castle. Whenever they passed courtiers who tried to stop and engage them in conversation, Rhaenys masterfully brushed them aside without insult, allowing them to make it through the doors of Arianwyn’s rooms without ever breaking their stride.

With the door shut and locked behind them, Rhaenys deposited Arianwyn on the edge of the bed. Still silent, she began tracing the walls of the room with her hands, brushing curtains and tapestries aside in her search. When Arianwyn was finally about to give in to her curiosity and ask what her cousin was doing, a muffled “thud” echoed throughout the room.

Turning to her with a victorious smirk, Rhaenys pushed gently on the stone next to the vanity. Much to Arianwyn’s surprise, a large section of the wall seemingly detached, swinging open a hidden door into a dark tunnel.

“What is that?” she asked, unsure whether to be impressed or afraid.

Rhaenys gestured for her to stand and examine it for herself. Arianwyn obeyed, drawing her arms around her when a cool wind from inside the tunnel swept into the room.

“Maegor had these tunnels built throughout the Keep,” Rhaenys explained. “I’m not sure whether it was genius or paranoia, but they have proven very useful to me in the past.”

Arianwyn looked at her cousin with a questioning gaze. Rhaenys chuckled, “I don’t know where most of them lead. The only path I have committed to memory is from my old quarters to the kitchens. I was not sure there would be an entrance here, but I am glad there is.”

“Why are you showing this to me?” Arianwyn asked, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer. Though Rhaenys had sided with Rhaenyra and Daemon at the petition, she had done so reluctantly. And after Vaemond was killed…

Her ever-collected expression fading into worry, Rhanys cupped Arianwyn’s cheeks in her hands. “Rhaena told me that something happened last night. Something that made you terrified of Daemon.” Her eyes hardened, and her lips tightened. “I know what he is capable of, more than most. I will not let what happened to my children happen to you.”

“What are you saying?” Arianwyn asked, wrapping her hands around Rhaenys’ elbows.

“I have never believed, not for one moment, that Ser Qarl killed Laenor on a whim.” Speaking of her son, her confident air began to waver. “Laenor was a good man – loved by his men. None of them would have turned on him like that without someone else pulling the strings.”

“My father.”

Rhaenys nodded. “Daemon lusted after Rhaenyra for years. Laena was his second choice, and he treated her as such. Once she was dead, only my son stood in the way of what he had long desired.”

Arianwyn’s heart sank, realizing the deep pain she had always felt was not hers alone, but one shared. “Ser Laenor was not the first to die.”

“I always suspected Rhea had not been injured by accident,” Rhaenys said as she pulled her hands from Arianwyn’s face. “I am so sorry you have had to live with that burden.”

“It is not my burden to bear,” Arianwyn replied. “I had as little choice in the matter as my mother. I was seeded by his cruelty. Now, it seems I may die by it as well.”

As she said the words, Arianwyn was surprised to find they no longer sparked tears or a sense of dread. Rather, they nearly brought a sense of peace. After all, it was a good story, if tragic. It was one she could imagine among the gilded pages of a storybook. She always wanted to live a fairy tale, though she had hoped hers would have a happy ending.

Rhaenys grabbed her again, harder this time, her fingers digging into Arianwyn’s skin. “No!” she hissed. “Do not resign yourself to that fate! There are too many people who care for you too much to see you gone so soon.”

Her eyes darkened as she continued, “Our family is heading for dark days, Arianwyn. We will not lose one of the few lights we have left.”

“So what do I do?” Arianwyn begged. The king would surely not grant her release from Daemon. He could hardly walk on his own, let alone stand against his brother. After what he had done in the throne room, she was sure that if Alicent or Otto tried to grant her release, she would face a fate similar to Vaemond Velaryon's.

Rhaenys turned the girl to face the tunnel. “Escape! Follow these tunnels until you find yourself in the city. Keep your hair covered and find a market. Sell your jewels, your clothes even. Make yourself unrecognizable. As soon as you can, leave King’s Landing. Go to Runestone. I will write to Ser Gerold to expect you, and we will find a way to keep you hidden until you are of age. But you must go. Now.”

Arianwyn’s mind raced. She could not deny the appeal of Rhaenys’ plan, of disappearing until she could actually wield the power she needed to fight her father. But even as her legs itched to race through the tunnel, her heart pulled her back into her rooms.

“I can’t,” she whispered, all too aware of the disappointment on her cousin’s face. “I cannot leave Aemond again.”

Rhaenys scowled, “Would you rather him weep over your corpse?”

“No!” Arianwyn shot back. Just the image caused her heart to ache without ceasing. “But if I disappear without him knowing, I cannot predict what he may do. I will not see him hurt, or worse.”

“Fine,” Rhaenys said, biting her lip. “Say your goodbyes. Say whatever you need to.” But promise me that you will run at the first sight of danger.”

Arianwyn steeled herself, trying to show confidence she did not feel. If she did run, would she even be able to find her way out of the castle? Would she survive just one night alone in the streets of King’s Landing? Would she make it to the Vale without being caught, or worse?

Would she be able to bring herself to leave Aemond?

“I promise.”

[edgessunflower]

Could I have reader x rhea Ripley but reader returns to save Damien and Rhea

Terror trio

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem reader

Description: You return to Raw and provide some support for Rhea and Damian against the Judgement day

Your blood was boiling by what was happening after you arrived at the arena for Raw after you had been out from a broken collarbone and a back injury that needed quite a bit of recovery so you had been out for three months and everything you had seen on Raw while you were away left you upset but mainly full of rage and pissed off. At this point you were a bomb with a powder keg that would explode any second seeing Rhea and Damian being attacked as you were grabbing food from catering before you threw your bottled water and ran like a bat out of hell towards the ring making everyone in the arena explode with reactions hearing your theme song and you run into the ring before throwing Liv like a rag doll then going to town on Dom who had pulled your hair before Jey came out with a chair and joined in the fray before they slithered out of the ring like the snakes they were, you turned and looked at damian and rhea before damian chuckled and gently lifted you into his arms before setting you down where jey welcomed you back with a "Yeet" making you laugh watching the crowd join in before rhea pulled you into your arms only to whisper into your ear which made your heart swell before the next thing you knew was her softly kissing you. "Welcome back my love" you smiled and laughed softly before everyone had joined in with their own yeets helping rhea out of the ring due to her being on a crutch from what happened earlier which you would definitely be getting even with liv for along with damian and rhea facing her and dom at Bash in Berlin which you knew would definitely be one of not the main event of the show for fans who were on the edge of their seats wondering where your fates and the judgement day's future would lead from this point on now that the three of you along with jey were taking a stand against the group after ruining friendships and the family that was formed only for it to be destroyed.

[deepdisireslonging]

A Throne Fit for a Queen

The Reader escapes her own birthday with her lover to see what gift he’s hidden away for her. They put it to use, learning together only the beginning of its capabilities.

Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader

Warnings/Promises: SMUT, sex chair, oral (female receiving), creampie, cw Food mention

Word Count: 2500

Note: Happy birthday to my writing bestie, @neversatisfiedgirl! This was going to be a quick smutty fluffy ficlet… and then I fell down a research hole. Happy reading!

It had been a well-meant gesture. Kenny had planned everything. Had been since the beginning of the year, seemingly more excited for your birthday than you or your own mother. We’re talking the venue, the cake, the pile of presents in one corner. And what felt like hundreds of your closest friends and family from across multiple wrestling companies. All gathered together for you. The extravagance awed you.

“I just completed another orbit around the sun. I’m not retiring,” you muttered under your breath. Still, a smile wasn’t far off as you watched the master of ceremonies pelt Damian with a series of streamers, hopelessly entangling his victim. You giggled behind your hand as Rhea tried to help him out.

Then warm hands slid around your middle. A lingering kiss nestled into the curve of your neck. When you hummed and leaned into the strong torso behind you, a growl answered.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“As if anyone else would dare to hold me like this.” You turned in his arms, draping your own across his shoulders to play with the short hairs at the base of his neck. “Finn, darling, what are you up to?”

He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t wish my best girl a happy birthday?”

“I suppose.” You dragged your teeth over your bottom lip. “Your best girl, huh? How many girls you got in reserve there, Cassanova?”

“Ha. Ha.” He gave your hips a squeeze. “Just one. Even if I tried to have other girls, they’d always be jealous about how much time and affection I lavish on you.”

“Good to hear.”

Finn smiled into the kiss you gave him, smirking when a few whistles and hoots tried to distract him. “Looks like this party’s in full swing. Would you like your present before Kenny pulls us back into the fray?”

You rolled your eyes. “You already gave me my presents. They were lovely. I really don’t need anything-“

“I know. But,” he bobbled his head with a sparkle in his eye, “I’ve got something else that I hope you can use year-round.”

Intriguing. All of his other presents had been wonderful. Just what you wished for. Apparently, he had been keeping a list whenever you mentioned needing or wanting something, and taking note of things you let linger through your hands while out shopping. You wondered what this one could be, and when you had wished for it. “What is it?”

“Do. You. Want. Your. Present?”

With a big sigh, you dragged out your answer, “yes.”

Off to one side, a flash of red hair darted behind Kevin Owens. A slice of cake splattered all over his face a second later. You’d have to find out later if it was Becky or Sami from one of the closer witnesses. If anyone hazarded to squeal. Finn used the distraction to his advantage. He took hold of your wrist, deftly dragging you through the crowd of laughing and partying guests, until you made the escape to a back hallway. Like a child about to get into infinite trouble, he looked both ways before crashing through a door with you.

The lighting was dim. But candles flickered all around the small space that was probably nothing more than a large closet.

“How-“

Finn cut off your question with a smoldering kiss that made your knees wobble. “Kenny asked me for tips about celebrating you, of course. Originally planned today as a surprise party-“

“Oh, dear-“

“Exactly. But I talked him out of it. And set up my own party space while he was directing everyone else.” His hands lingered up your sides, leaving tingling, hot trails in their wake. You whimpered into his mouth as his touch toyed with the flowy hem of your party dress. “Liking everything so far?”

“Mhmm.” You caught his bottom of lip between your teeth, sucking on it till he pulled himself away to bury his face in your cleavage. “So… I get to use you year-round?”

“Mhmm.”

Then you caught sight of what was in the center of the room. You had wondered if a “pinned-to-the-wall” quickie was the present. Not that it was a bad thing, but not usually Finn’s detailed style. But the centerpiece, that made a lot more sense. How in the world had he gotten that thing in here without anyone noticing?

Finn felt your breath stutter under his ministrations. He followed your gaze. “Oh, yes. That. You are always welcome to use me all year, but I figured maybe you could use and be used on something ornate enough to enthrone my Queen.”

It was a King Edward chair. You knew the one. Designed for the “playboy prince” of the Victorian era. Scholars still didn’t know all the positions that could be accomplished on it. Now that you had your own, and a willing partner to experiment with, maybe you could find out. Already your imagination was swirling with the possibilities. How Finn could take you with you spread across it. Or vise versa. Whereas the original was in white and gold with floral cushions, this one was black and silver with red cushions. The perfect private throne for a Demon King or his Queen.

But Finn wasn’t letting you move. He sank to his knees, pinning you against the door by your hips while his head disappeared under your dress. You covered your mouth as his nose pressed into the front of your sensible undergarments. He nipped your inner thigh for it.

“Everyone’s at the party. No one around to hear you.” With a chuckle, he peeked out from under the fabric. “Unless we really get into it.” From one kneecap to the next, he placed a gentle kiss on your skin. “Don’t hold back, m'aingeal. It’s your day and I want you to feel everything.”

You nodded, letting your hand drop to his hair. With the other, you held back your skirt to watch what he was doing to you. With a pleased hum, he again pressed his nose into your sex, nudging about before catching the fabric waistband with his teeth. His nails and teeth lightly scraped against your skin as he desperately worked to bare you to him. The sight of your slick made him ferocious. He hiked one of your legs over his shoulder. Then, he really began to work. Tongue and fingers. Humming and sucking. You leaned your head back against the door, panting and doing your best not to thrust into his face.

All the while, you could see the chair. A pleasurable threat. A dangerous promise.

“Getting close, féileacán?”

You were. But all you could do was moan an affirmation. Your release was approaching. Fluttering nearer with each curl of his fingers, or jolting you with a nip to your thigh.

He added another digit to the ones already stretching you out. Then, when his mouth enveloped you, you fell apart. Your fingers shakily dug into his scalp, making him groan and prolong your pleasure with the vibrations. Those vibrations told hold of your whole body. Your lungs quaked in their cage next to your frantically beating heart, aiding the spotting of your vision. Your other hand dropped your skirt, reaching above you to claw against the door. You were aware of his movements to bring you down slowly, and to bring himself back into the flickering light. But mostly you were trying to remember how to breathe.

Then he was kissing at the underside of your jaw. He smeared your skin with the essence he had just drawn from you.

“We-“ you licked your lips, “we need to go back-“

“Do you really think I was going to show you your present… and then not use it with you at least till one orgasm? Oh, leanbh,” he tugged on your waist, “we’re just getting started.”

That promise dragged a whimper from your soul.

But once you stood in front of the chair, you had to wonder: how were you supposed to… mount this thing? Tilting your head, you considered a few ways. Maybe if you climbed up on it first, you could rotate to lay on your back?

You had just leaned over it to do just that when Finn flicked up the back of your skirt and began to knead the globes of your seat.

“Forget that iced monstrosity out there,” he gave your ass a slap, “I’ve got the sweetest treat right here.”

Another few slaps helped you up, where you could turn to lay on your back. The foot rests (stirrups?) did help you keep your position instead of sliding off. But they also arched your legs *way* open. Finn’s brilliant blue eyes were enraptured by the sight. Unblinking, he ran his hands up and down your thighs. Like a moth to a flame, he drew closer until the bulge trapped in his jeans was close enough for your sex to feel the heat. He took hold of the grips standing up next to your ribs. His knuckles turned white, the only evidence how much this man was holding back from blowing his load from the view alone.

You sat up. And reached for his front button. His hands met yours there. Together, you raced to release his cock into the open. When it finally sprung free, he gave a gasp of relief. The eagerness of it, warm and stiff in your hand, made your mouth water. But leaned over you, making sure to place your hands on the grips firmly enough to tell you that you needed to hang on.

Murmuring filthy Irish curses under his breath, he toyed with you further by sliding his cock through your slick. The head bumped your clit from time to time, making you whine.

“Please. Don’t make me wait.”

“Of course not, Love. I just- hmm. I can’t get enough of you being so wet for me. So ready. Making those sounds of yours. Calling out for me like you do when you beg. But you’re right. I can’t make the birthday girl wait.”

Inch by glorious inch, he filled you. You fully leaned back into the chair, hanging onto the grips for dear life. When he was fully seated within you, and panting with the feel of you around his length, his own hands joined yours on the grips. Thankfully, he started slow. You would have flown apart instantly at that angle if he’d pounded into you immediate like he wanted to. Faintly you could hear the music of the party still going on beyond the walls. But soon, all you could focus on hearing was the slapping of Finn’s hips colliding with yours. His grunts and gasps as he speared deeper and deeper. Your own cries and jumbled words as you pleaded with him to move one way or the other. And the creaking of the chair. The faster he went, the more his hands slid down the grips until they rested over yours. That slightest contact of skin dazzled you.

“Please, please, please-“

Whatever you were begging for, Finn answered in full force. It didn’t take long, despite feeling like you’d been dangling on the edge of a precipice for an eternity, before Finn’s thrusts stuttered. He reached for your clit, thumbing over it until you were weeping his name. He watched, enraptured, as you came apart. Chest heaving. Hair plastered around your forehead. And he watched your lips murmuring like he was waiting.

Your grip on the bars faltered as he kept moving, chasing his own release. “Come on, mo rí diabhal. Fill me, possess me, like only you can-“

With a roar, he did just that. He pumped all he had to give into you. When he was finally spent, he fell over you, his head resting on your breasts.

Again, the distant drifting of the party sounds found you. And, despite the incredible desire to stay just where you were, curling your fingers into his hair, you eventually made the first move to leave. He groaned, irritated when he had to pull himself out of you. He fixed his pants, but stood in the way of your dismount. You cradled his head to your shoulder, wondering if he could still smell the post-orgasmic kiss he gave you earlier.

“We need to go back.”

“Yeah.”

“We smell like sex.” You shot him a playful frown when he seemed unperturbed. “What are going to tell people when they ask where we’ve been?”

“The truth.” He held your chin between his thumb and forefinger so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. “I had to give the birthday girl her present.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Oh? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“And if they ask what the present was?” You gripped his wrist, but he refused to budge.

“We’ll tell them, ‘what do you think’ and leave it at that.” He quickly kissed you before letting you go. “You don’t think I’d tell them about our new toy, did you?” He helped you off the chair and back into your panties, not missing an opportunity to feel you up again. “I would never. It’s our secret. Though we’ve got to end this shindig quick. I’m not through with you.”

You rolled your eyes, starting to wonder who the present was actually for. “No?”

“Not in the slightest. And it’s portable. I’m thinking about attaching wheels to the bottom so we can move it around.”

You startled. Then grinned. “It might look a little odd… rolling this thing around the airport.” You giggled when his surprised face matched yours at what he had insinuated.

“I was thinking-“ his voice cracked. After clearing his throat he tried again, “I was thinking about moving it to different rooms in the house.” He stepped close, once again pinning you to the door so he could whisper in your ear. “Perhaps tie you down to it. Cover those pretty eyes of yours so you’re disorientated. Only able to think about what I’ll do to you.” He snickered and stepped back. “But I like the way you think. Maybe I can borrow someone’s jet sometime and really take you higher than the mile-high club. Remember that flight to Toronto?”

Your pussy threatened to gush again with the memory. “Maybe.”

A wicked gleam filled his gaze. “Then let’s finish up this party quick so I can get you home.”

___

Masterlist

Wrestling Masterlist

Other Finn Fics:

Fright Club (Fluff)

The Forbidden Door (Stripper!Balor, Smut)

Dangerous (Smut) [Prince Devitt]

[korrssami]

"Sadness is a condition of motherhood."

From the moment Eve shed her first tears over Abel’s death, mothers throughout history have carried a profound sorrow alongside the joy of nurturing life. No mother has escaped this sorrow since Eve's first tears—not Mary, who wept at the foot of the cross; not Queen Victoria, who mourned her beloved Albert for decades; and not even the mythological mothers like Queen Hecuba, who grieved over the fall of Troy, Gaia, the Earth herself mourning her children's conflicts, or Rhea, lamenting the loss of her offspring to Cronus.

This intertwining of joy and grief defines the essence of motherhood. Each mother, in her own way, experiences the bittersweet reality of raising children: the inevitable distance that grows as children mature, the anxiety for their safety, and the heartbreak when they suffer. Motherhood is a tapestry woven with both love and loss, and among all these sorrows, Mary stands as the lady of profound mourning, embodying the ultimate sacrifice and pain as she watched her son endure unimaginable suffering.

Now, as war looms on the horizon, Alicent's grief deepens. She has already lost her grandson, and her daughter mourns her baby boy. With conflict inevitable, countless more mothers will weep over their sons, and sadness will once again be their constant companion. Alicent's sons are spiralling out of control, driven by reckless ambition and disregard for the suffering they may cause. They now seek to drag her golden boy from Oldtown into the fray—a child, not even of age to join the fight, with a dragon he's scarcely old enough to command.

And on the other side of this war is Rhaenyra, another grieving mother, her former friend (and lover), now turned rival. Sadness is her constant companion as well, and peace is no longer an option for either of them. Both are mothers engulfed in a conflict that promises only more loss and sorrow, their shared history overshadowed by the looming shadows of war. Each mother's heart breaks for her children, knowing the path ahead is paved with grief and bloodshed.

[cinderswrites]

Frayed ::

nine

Theodora’s cottage was beautiful with its intricate swirling wooden details on the window shutters, the door, and the windows on the tower. Large garden stones paved the way to the front door, and there was a small pond off to the right with large cattails waving amongst the reeds. Natural wildflowers grew in abundance, and there was ivy and wisteria creeping up the walls. Inside, it was warm and cozy, filled with all sorts of mysterious things on shelves and bookcases. There were so many things to look at, Rhea’s eyes couldn’t settle on anything specific.

Rhea sat down in one of the plush high back armchairs, something one might find in the palace, she thought. It was comfortable and supported her nicely. She admired the button detailing and ran her hand over the cranberry velvet fabric. Theodora came in carrying a tray with a tall silver teapot and two porcelain cups. “Help yourself, child,” she said as she sat in the other armchair.

“Your cottage is very whimsical,” Rhea commented. “I love it.”

Theodora chuckled, “How else is a sea witch’s cottage supposed to look?”

“Is that what you are? A witch?” she asked innocently though her curiosity was honest.

One half of the old woman’s mouth crooked up in a half smile, “I am what anyone thinks of me. Fairy or nymph, goddess or specter, perhaps a witch.” As she said this, Rhea blinked her eyes several times. Which each word, Theodora’s physical shape changed. Youthful and full of beauty, shining and fading, twisted and old. “Above all, I am one that simply helps and never harms, guides but never directs. I am interested in how you see me, child of the port master.”

Rhea thought of the fairy godmothers in the tales she read as a child and still occasionally did. They were benevolent beings, wanting to help the princess escape her situation. Guiding her to her fate, but never directing her on what to do. Is that what she pictured Theodora as? Rhea looked at the old woman, seeing her the same way as always. Aged and wise, but appearing as non-threatening as any other woman on the street.

“It may sound funny, but in my mind I can’t help but picture the fairy godmothers from the tales of my childhood,” she confessed.

Theodora’s laugh tinkled throughout the cottage, “I am flattered that you think so, Rhea.”

“How, exactly, do you help people?” she asked.

“It depends. Sometimes, it is as simple as blessing a family before a long voyage. Whether or not they believe in the blessing is their choice.”

“Are you saying that you tell them words of empty comfort to give them confidence?” Rhea was shocked.

“I am saying that what people choose to believe absolutely affects their own perceptions,” Theodora deflected. “On the other hand, when it comes to ailments and injuries, I am well versed in apothecary knowledges passed down from the old times. My treatments may border on radical, but they are effective. I carry knowledge lost to time.”

“And you don’t ask for anything in return?”

“I am not here on this physical plane to gain anything, dear child. I am here to help, as I have said. What use are riches or spoils to someone like myself? What use is trying to achieve the highest wealth, because more often than not, once you are at the top, the only way is down.”

Theodora never raised her voice above a normal speaking level, and the manner in which she talked was calm and informative, like a school teacher. Yet her words sent a spine chilling shiver through Rhea, sounding a lot like a bad omen. She shifted in her seat, reaching to take a drink of her cooled tea. “Are you saying that people at the top, the wealthiest and most successful, are doomed to ruin?”

“No,” the old woman said bluntly. “If you lose sight of the reason for the climb, you are bound to make a mistake and fall.”

“That’s pretty damning,” Rhea scoffed. “And not very fairy godmother of you.”

Theodora laughed again, “I apologize, child. It has been some time since I have had an interesting conversation such as this.”

“Are you able to see the future at all? Because at the house you said something about my fate.”

“Are you curious to know if anything changed?”

“Well, yes, but I’m also interested in the answer to my question.”

Theodora crossed her legs folding her hands over them as she leaned back a little, looking up at the ceiling. “I do not see anything specific. It is more of a feeling. That day a week ago, when we were standing together, I felt the thread of your fate tied up in a knot. How it would be up to you to unravel it, or keep twisting it until your life thread diminished completely.”

Rhea considered her words for a few quiet seconds. “And what about now?”

The woman focused her icy blue eyes on the other, blinking slowly. Rhea thought she saw her eyes flick back and forth in subtle almost imperceptible motions. “It is… uncertain, but more clear. I see several paths the knot has unraveled towards. One is rather… short.”

Rhea’s breath hitched in her throat.

“The others have their own webs they are spinning. One is laced with poison.”

“Poison?” she whispered.

Theodora blinked several times as if erasing the image of the threads. “Yes, poison. It seems you have some difficult ordeals ahead of you.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, Rhea appeared small and vulnerable as she thought about what the woman told her. She thought of the king when she heard the word “poison”. Looking over at Theodora, she asked, “Are you able to see other traces of… magic? Or something like that?”

“Where did you sense this magic?”

Rhea sighed and once again recalled the visit at the palace and what King Gareth had said. “I’m scared for him, Theodora. I want to help and I don’t know how.”

“What lies ahead is not for the faint of heart, Rhea,” Theodora said gravely. “I believe you. I have sensed a darkness in the king for some time now.”

“And you haven’t helped him?” Rhea’s voice was distraught. “I thought that’s what you do!”

She smiled a sad smile, “My child, my abilities are limited to those who want help. Whatever is afflicting the king is something I cannot touch, not physically or otherwise. I have said before, I am what anyone thinks of me. If the king thinks of me as the enemy, I cannot help.”

Rhea deflated in the chair. “So what can I do? I’m a nobody. I don’t even know why I’m a part of this.”

“Fate has a funny way of doing that. Perhaps something higher has deemed you worthy of this challenge.”

“Are you speaking of a god?”

“No, but if it is what you believe, you are free to think so.”

Rhea groaned, “My heavens, woman, you speak round and round in such riddles!”

“I apologize, Rhea.”

She sighed, “No, it’s not your fault.” She ran her hand over her head, accidentally untying the ribbon. It fell to the floor.

Theodora was quick to pick it up. As she touched it, she froze. Her fingers stroked the fabric for a few seconds before the rest of her seemingly came to life and she passed it over. “A gift from your late mother?” she asked.

Rhea took it and held it in her hands, looking at her warily. “Yes… how do you know that?”

“It seems you have your own sort of magic running through you, my child.”

Goosebumps rose on Rhea’s arms. “W-what do you mean?”

“Do you know what an undine is?” Theodora asked.

Rhea was thoroughly confused, “A sort of nymph, right?”

“A water spirit, yes. It seems your mother was one.”

“W-wait, my mother? How can you—“

Theodora gestured to the ribbon. “That right there is filled with your mother’s love for you, child. It showed me a lot of things, and most of it was how she came to have you.”

“Why would a water spirit fall in love with a human?” she was skeptical.

“For many reasons, the most predominant one being a soul. Undines do not possess a soul, in order to do so, they must fall in love with a human man and have his child. The unfortunate effect of doing that shortens the undine’s natural life by hundreds of years.”

“My mother… she died so suddenly. One day, she became sick, and a month later she was gone,” Rhea whispered. “I had no idea.”

Theodora nodded sympathetically, “A tragedy, but what a beautiful thing was born from it.” Rhea suddenly felt bashful, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If I recall correctly, undine offspring usually bear a mark of their birth. Do you have such a mark?”

Rhea shook her head.

The older woman gestured for her hand and Rhea leaned over, stretching out her left arm. Theodora ran her thin warm fingers up her arm, twisting it lightly so her wrist was facing up. “Ah, here,” she said softly as her fingers touched a spot just below her thumb and wrist. The sea witch whispered words foreign to Rhea’s ears.

Rhea watched as mystical drops of water lifted from her skin, swirling into the air between them and dissipating slowly. Somewhere inside of her, as she watched this, she felt something unfold, whispering in her ears a song she knew but didn’t remember. A heat as fluid and silky as a sun-warmed spring on a summer’s day washed over her, filling her with feelings of love and trust. What was left behind on her skin was a glaringly crimson splotch of color, undefined but almost resembling a lily.

“What… what just happened to me?” Rhea asked, lifting her other hand to rub at her forehead.

“It seems something that was sealed away inside has now been set free,” Theodora leaned back in her seat. “You asked for help earlier, and what you can do to help the king. You should be able to look inside yourself and find those answers.”

“But where do I start? With whom? I can’t go around accusing just anyone of dark magic.”

Theodora met her eyes again, and Rhea realized she was feeling for the threads of fate within her again. “I see… it seems the threads have twisted in a different way. The person responsible for this crime has multiple threads as well. One intertwines with yours. Perhaps there are more people involved than we have thought.”

“Intertwines with mine? Does it involve me, or my family in some way?”

“You are the port master’s daughter. The port master himself is rather important in this town, would you agree?” Theodora asked.

“Yes, he oversees the imports and exports…” Rhea trailed off. “You don’t think something dangerous is being imported? That whoever it is wants to cloud the king’s judgment so he doesn’t know what’s going on?”

“I think that someone who has influence with the king and your father must be someone important.”

Rhea sat back in the chair again, thinking it over. Someone important, so it must be a noble? Someone with connections to her father and the king… she couldn’t think of anyone specific. “I’ll have to find a way to figure this out,” she said determinedly.

“I wish you luck, my child. It is getting on in the evening. I believe you should start heading back to avoid being caught out at night.” Theodora stood up and took the tray back to her kitchen.

Rhea followed after her, hovering at the door for a moment. “Theodora… I know I’ve asked a lot of you today, and you’ve helped me tremendously.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering… among the threads… you wouldn’t have happened to see one of love, would you?”

Theodora regarded her silently as her hands idly washed the teacups. “There was one, yes.”

“What of it?”

“It is deeply twisted in every knot of possibility. I would say how you proceed from here in your path to help the king greatly affects that specific thread. In some directions, it ends. In others, it continues on endlessly. And in a few, it seems to specifically cut off your life thread.” Theodora’s words were quiet and solemn, hinting at the seriousness of what she spoke of.

Rhea’s throat went dry and she gulped audibly, simply nodding. “Thank you again,” she said as she left. She had a lot to think of on her journey home.

***

Quick A/N: I will be taking a few weeks to rebuild my buffer and finish a draft on my other project!

[burning-academia-if]

Morningsssssss!!! (If it's even morning for you.. sure k.. way to assume shit Liz 🤦‍♀️)

I hope you had a very very lovely weekend.

I'm so glad to see all these notifications pop up from you! Even the ones where i know you're gonna make me regret romancing Rooks stubborn ass!

Why do i always go for the tough ROs?? Is it masochism..prolly.

I will still probably come and shout in your asks anyway about how sad you make me (and how much i love it)

Onto my ask. Sorry. I ramble you know this by now. 🫣

School formal time!!!! ✨️ not at all because i got roped in to plan the 7th grade formal at all!

But if MC was too afraid of rejection to ask out an RO to a school dance to their face and instead just slipped them a sweet note with a yes no check box and just walked away right after giving it to them. What would they do?

(Queue lars throwing my fucking note away) 😭😒

It is the opposite of morning for me actually, I'm about to go to bed! Also yeah, this weekend was unexpectedly busy lol. I'm surprised I managed to keep up with everything! Also this is giving BA: teen drama edition so let's pretend this is high school

Rook: He notices you slipped something to him, and he knows what it is. He waits until he's alone to open it up, frowning to himself. Is it better to lie and say he lost it? He can't imagine rejecting you, but he can't imagine this either. He takes a breath and crumples it up. When he sees you next, he apologizes for 'losing it' and asks what was in it, knowing you're too shy to answer

Beck: He also knows what it is, but he waits for the right time to give it back to you. He writes a big 'X' on 'yes' and catches you at a time the both you will be alone. He hands it back, voice soft, "I'll pick you up at 6?" His eyes are twinkling

Rhea: When she sees what it is, she doesn't want to wait. She quickly scribbles in the yes box and rushes after you. When she sees you, she quickly calls out to you, and takes your hand. She presses the note into it, and gives you a bright smile. "I'd love to go to the dance with you."

Zoe: This catches them off guard, but they find it really cute? They're nervous all day, but in a giddy kind of way, and by the time they finally meet up with you their nerves are frayed. They manage to get it together enough to mark yes and slip it back into your locker

Lars: He frowns at it, before folding it back up and putting it back in his bag. When he sees you next he unfolds it and shows it back to you, unmarked. "Really, a note?" When you try to stammer your way out of it, he crumbles it up. "You have better choices then a burn out. If you're serious though, ask me later to my face."

???: They laugh softly to themselves when they see the note. Later, when you're walking down the hall, you feel a tug as they pull you into an empty classroom, like a secret rendezvous. They're so close to you, close enough to slip the note into your bag or your pocket. "I thought I'd return this." They pull away and walk back out into the hall. When you pull at the note, you see the 'yes' has been filled with a heart.

[all-risejd]

OK Mami

Taken from After Shine. Will soon be posting this in the regular stories, if we haven’t already - this is Rhea/OC. Warnings for accidentally dropping a sub in public, and kissing someone who isn’t your significant other. :)

This is from a kid fic so the kids mentioned are from that.

Danika (November 1st)

Danika could tell as her Jefe, Demi, Jace and Lainey made their way toward the splash zone for the younger kids that Jefe needed a break. “She is like Dominik!” He called as he neared, “Every ride like five times, we are tired.” He motioned to himself and the kids. “It's your turn, mi hija.” 

Next to Rey, Demi looked positively gleeful and only a little bit like a wet rat. Danika shook her head softly, “I suppose I can do a couple slides,” She stood from her seat in the barely six inches of water and handed Angel off to Rey. “Nico and Rosa made friends.” She added, amused as both Jace and Lainey made their way to a lounger and dropped on it wi

Instead of answering, Rhea turnthin Rey’s line of sight. The pair clearly water logged and exhausted. It made Danika’s heart full. Rhea offered her hand to Danika, cautiously she laced her fingers into Rhea’s blowing a kiss at Rey and the kids before Rhea tugged her toward the more adult end of the park. “What ride are we doing?”ed and scooped Danika up, tossing her over her shoulder to dart into the fray of people toward the deepest pool - the wave pool. Danika shrieked out loudly as the pair collided with the chlorinated water - it was much colder than the splash pad she had been enjoying with the kids. Teeth chattering as she managed to surface she shot Rhea a ride look, but the older woman was already swimming toward her with a sharp smile on her features. 

That smile did something to Danika, made her stomach twist up funny. She shook her head fondly and ducked back under the frigid water hoping to stop the heat racing up her spine. Demi was Dominik’s girlfriend and she was Luis’ girlfriend. But earlier when Rhea had been a few seconds away from drooling over Damian’s marks on her body… something inside of Danika had twisted, flickered on. Rhea was fucking hot and delicious in ways Danika hadn’t been prepared to admit. 

Rhea caught her around her middle and hauled her back into her arms, “See that tall one?” She was pointing to a high slide that had stairs going up and basically through the roof of the enclosure around the water park. “Jefe wouldn’t do it with me, so…” She trailed off as she whispered directly into Danika’s ear, “It’s a drop slide.” Danika shivered, anxiety building in her stomach. She didn’t like having control taken away from her unless it was in a safe situation - like with Damian. “Don’t be a chicken.” Rhea all but purred, into her ear.

“Fine, but if I die, tell Luis it was you're fault.” Danika managed, as Demi moved to snag her wrist and pull her out of the deeper water, Danika - who didn’t mind being manhandled by Damian, and apparently Rhea (because Demi wasn’t always a possessive bastard but her character sure as hell was) - allowed her body to be maneuvered and yanked however Rhea felt the need to do it. The two, once free of the pool, found themselves being scrutinized by parents as they made their way around the outskirts of the kid play area headed for the drop-slide. 

Perhaps it was Demi’s hold on her wrist, or the marks coating Danika’s torso and neck - either way it was unsettling the way the adults were watching them. “Uh, Dems, why are they looking at us?” Danika whispered.

Rhea frowned, “Either they recognize us and don’t know from where, or they are jumping to conclusions.”

Danika hummed, but tucked herself closer to Rhea, “Let them jump.” She muttered, “I’d prefer it be that one.”

She couldn’t stand the thought of Rey being ambushed by these people when they connected her (Danika Mysterio) and Demi (Rhea Ripley) and started looking for the other members of the Judgment Day, which would eventually le ad them to Rey and his unmistakable tattoos across his chest. She flicked her gaze to Demi, who looked just as unsettled, but continued on her path up. Just like with Damian, Danika didn’t want the world to take away their little slivers of peace. 

They were halfway up the slide when a teenage boy stopped them, Danika felt her heart drop, but instead of calling them out (or mentioning their stage names) he cocked his head to the side and looked at Danika’s neck, “You put those on her?” He asked Rhea.

Demi was gone, and the Rhea persona was in full force as she moved uncomfortably into the boy's face, “If I did?” She snarled, Danika immediately tucked around him.

“Just wanted to high-five you, she’s hot.” The boy said, his voice cracking as he swallowed nervously, and tried to step away from Rhea, only to be caught by the railing. Danika snickered, but loosened her grip on Rhea’s midsection. Rhea gazed down at her for a moment, looking for permission, Danika shrugged then winked, Rhea offered the boy her hand in a high five, he eagerly jumped for it, the little shit - he knew exactly who they were, he lowered his voice, “Nice to meet you Rhea Ripley, Danika Mysterio.” He kept his voice even lower, “Tell me are you guys poly or like, just fucking with each other?”

Rhea snorted, “I’m with Dominik, she’s with Damian.” 

He looked like he didn’t believe her, but nodded his head anyway, “Nice to meet you both.” With that he turned from them and moved down the way they’d just come up. 

Danika watched him go down, “Think he’s going to tell anyone he met us?”

“Probably, he might catch us later for pics.” She shrugged, “Come on, mamacita, we have a slide to do.”

Danika groaned in frustration, she’d sort of hoped Demi had forgotten about that, even as the taller woman took off up the stairs ahead of them, begrudgingly she followed, anxiety rising in her chest. “I don’t know if I can do this.” Danika muttered, unsure.

“What does Luis call you?” Rhea asked as they climbed higher.

“What do you mean?” Danika frowned, but linked their fingers together again, looking for stabilization.

“When he leaves marks on you.” Rhea explained.

“Oh, uh, kitten or gatita, it's Spanish for kitten.” Danika murmured, then blushed as Rhea tried to say gatita multiple times, before finally it sounded right. “Why?”

Without missing a beat - and when they had reached the top of the platform - Rhea turned sharp, to tower over Danika, and looked down at her - shimmering blue eyes met Danika’s hazel - “Gatita, trust me.” Danika felt that heat that she associated with Damian rushed up her spine, “We are going to do this slide.” Rhea bent down, her fingers ghosting over the bruises on Danika’s throat, “And afterward I will reward you.” She promised, “But you have to be good, kitten, you have to be a buena gatita.” Danika felt her control slipping, her head was getting hazy - oh boy, Rhea could control her just like Damian, that might be a problem.

“Ok, Mami.” She whispered, softly, eyes hazing over, glossy.

“Good kitten.” Rhea ruffled her hair then turned to look at the ride attendant, “We are going to go down together, I read that tandem was allowed on the rules below.” The ride attendant didn’t look super stoked about it, but nodded his head, “I know I have to hold her,” Rhea dismissed, already moving them both into the tube, once Rhea was comfortable with how she was standing, she moved to haul Danika into her arms, the younger girl found her back pressed into Rhea’s chest, Rhea’s arms crossing over her breast, “Cross your arms like mine.” Danika did as she asked, her feet dangling, Rhea moved to whisper in her ear, “Good kitten, remember a reward when this is done-” The floor dropped out from under them, and Danika screamed.

She was probably digging her nails into Rhea’s palms, but she didn’t care, she kept her eyes closed, and held on as tight as she could, Rhea’s laughter bounced off the walls around them, and only served to turn her more to jelly. When they hit the horizontal catch at the bottom, before being shot into the maybe four foot deep pool, Danika had never felt so relieved in her life. Rhea untangled them, before ushering them out of the water, Danika was pouting - she’d done the slide now she wanted her reward.

Hazy and a bit overwhelmed, Danika found herself pushed between two hallways, in a gap that seemed to house only flotation devices not in use, then Rhea was pressing in next to her, “Luis is gonna be pissed.” Rhea muttered, but ducked down, to press her lips to Danika’s soft and sweet, before pulling back and trailing kisses down her throat, “But I promised you a reward.” Danika whined out loud as Rhea’s teeth sunk into her pulse point before she started to suck a hickie into her tender flesh, adding her own art to Luis’ master piece.

When she pulled back Danika was still panting and looking at her confused, Rhea Ripley was a menace, but something about her pulled Danika in just like Damian did. Rhea brushed Danika’s hari out of her face, “You need to come back.” She whispered, “I pushed you and I shouldn’t have, you're in subspace, and this isn’t a safe place for that.” Danika registered the words in a haze, her chest rising and falling. She could read the panic in Rhea’s eyes, as the woman gazed down at her, “Fuck you're responsive.” Rhea hissed, before she pressed her thumbs almost painfully into the hollows of Danika’s collarbone - Danika felt her head clear a bit, as Rhea repeated the action, this time digging her nails in enough it made her tear up. “Come on, princess.”

Danika shook her head, the haze starting to clear, she reached for Rhea, who moved a bit closer, letting Danika’s hands fall on her hips, “Dems?” She whispered, softly. “I’m thirsty.”

“I know.” Rhea promised, “But you need to clear your head a bit more, ok? Come the rest of the way back, then I’ll get you some water.” Rhea still looked worried, so Danika closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, shaking her head roughly, trying to clear the fog - she let out a startled noise as Rhea slapped her side, she shot the taller woman a betrayed look, “There we go.” Rhea hastily moved away, before offering Danika her hand like a life-line, “I need to talk to Luis.” She said evenly, “You're too responsive. He’s going to have to be careful with you.” Danika cocked her head to the side, but let Rhea drag her back to where Rey and the kids were, she let Rhea bully her into a lounger, her legs felt like jello anyway, and she was uncomfortably wet.

When Rhea returned with a bottle of water, she sat at the end of the lounger, studying Danika. Once the water was gone, she cleared her throat, “Maybe some of the tube rides would be better, but not today.” Rhea managed, eyeing her, “I think that one probably was enough.” Danika felt a cold hollowness creeping into her soul.

“I wasn’t good.” She whispered, and felt the first sting of tears - which only added to her confusion.

Rhea backpedaled immediately, “You were too good.” She patted Danika’s thigh, “Remember, you did exactly what I asked you to do, you were a good girl.” She added the last part low, eyes darting between Danika and Rey, carefully. Rey at least seemed to be otherwise busy with the kids. “You scared me a little, I’ve never had anyone fall into subspace so quickly.” Rhea admitted, “It’s… you're sensitive to it, and if the wrong person knew that, you could be in danger.” Rhea explained, “Damian and I won’t let anything happen to you, but… I need to make sure he knows how quickly it happened today, you did nothing wrong.”

Danika tilted her head, “Subspace?”

Rhea sighed, “You two fucked but he didn’t explain shit did he?”

Danika blushed, “I sort of… I uh, I asked but didn’t want like… words?”

Rhea snickered, “Figures, he’s shit at impulse control with you, which is why I’ll talk to him.” She reached forward to rub at Danika’s shoulder, “That probably took a lot out of you, huh?” Danika did feel unreasonably tired, she nodded her head, “Why don’t you relax, ok? I’ll help Jefe with the kids, and you can just… settle.” Danika felt a pout pull at her lips, Rhea looked around to make sure no one was paying that much attention to them, before she ducked forward and gave Danika a chaste kiss, a simple one, “Be good.”

“Kay.” Danika murmured, even as Rhea took the water bottle and stood, she covered Danika up with a towel. Danika watched her join Rey and the kids in the kidzone, whatever conversation between the pair of them was lost on her as she drifted off to sleep, comfortable in her towel and the knowledge that Rhea was looking out for her. 

Demi / Rhea

There are certain uncomfortable conversations that happen between Dom’s she supposed, but this one was a bit different. They’d barely gotten back to the rental, Damian had tucked Danika into bed, the girl tired probably from Damian the night before, Finn and her’s great escape, and then the waterpark. “We need to talk.” Rhea knew how that sounded, watched the way Damian’s spine went rigid, the other two on the tour bus peaked up from where they were cleaning the carpet in the living area, “Not you two.” Rhea pointed at Dominik and Finn, “I need to talk to Damian.” She rolled her shoulders, “Now.” She stepped back off the bus, relieved that Rey had agreed to stay and watch the kids for a bit before he headed to his hotel. His flight was leaving later in the evening. 

The hanging swing in the backyard seemed like the best place to have this particular meeting, so she led Damian around the side of the house and into the backyard. “What uh, what is up?” Damian asked as Rhea climbed in - still in her half-damp clothes, bathing suit underneath, hair looking like a wet rat. When she said nothing he quickly climbed in, to join her, “You're worrying me here, Rip.”

“I accidentally put Danika in subspace.” There, best to just get it out of the way, and quickly. “I… there was a slide and she was scared, and I chose to use your pet names for her, so I knew there was a chance but she responded quickly, she’s so sensitive to it.” Rhea looked at him, gauging his reaction, “I couldn’t get her back out of it for a few minutes, I kissed her, and I left a hickey on her neck it was a reward for good behavior and I thought that it would bring her out, but it only sent her under further. I had to slap her ribs to get her to finally come back to me… Damian, it’s dangerous to not tell her about subspace.”

Damian was silent for a moment, “She dropped into it a bit last night, but…” He trailed off, “You put her in subspace and are apologizing so it must have scared you, what else is bothering you?”

“She’s so obedient, I know we’d… I know you’d never hurt her.” Rhea winced at the we, she had no claim to Danika, not really. “But in the wrong hands, if the wrong person… If any of our old play-partners knew how quickly she went under… I mean even Dominik’s not that responsive and he’s a sub, no doubt.” 

Damian frowned, “We didn’t talk about it, but I stayed in control last night, took care of her.” He admitted clearly thinking about the implications, “I think I need to talk to her about contracts - I don’t wanna make one with her, calm down.” Rhea had raised up ready to strike him, “I need a negotiation list.” He admitted, as he dropped back against the swing, “And I need to figure out the best ways to handle her drops, because you're right, if you could drop her in public with just words, we are going to have to pay attention.” There was fear on his face and Rhea could understand that Danika was innocent in most things, even though she had kids, and had grown up largely a Mysterio. 

“Are you mad at me?” Rhea asked softly, worried about the answer.

“For what?” Damian asked, as he hauled her down to lay against his side.

“Because I put you're girlfriend in subspace.” Rhea whispered, as she rested her head over his heart.

“No, mi hermoso monstruo, I’m not mad at you.” Damian promised, “Not for the kiss or hickey either, you were taking care of her.” He hummed, “I should be jealous, but I’m just glad you were able to get her back out of subspace, can you imagine trying to explain that to Rey?” Rhea frowned, she hadn’t really thought about how problematic it could have been, not in the moment, just that they didn’t need anyone to see Danika looking fucked out like she had.

Rhea snuggled down, and sigh, “Do you need me to dig out one of the older contracts from when I was first starting?” 

Damian thought about it for a moment, “Yeah, we should probably do a check list. You and Dominik should also do one, we could make it a team building activity and give Finn one?”

Rhea punched him in the side, “We are not going to ask Finn about his sexual preferences, yet.”

Damian snickered, “Did you know that Danika was originally from Alabama?”

Rhea pushed herself up to look at him, “What?”

“Yeah, she was born in Mobile, lived there until she was eight, then her family moved to San Diego. Running from her biological father. I asked Dominik a bit about the story she’s not willing to say.” He cleared his throat, “She was friendless and alone for three years, before she and Dominik became inseparable. The rest is history, but she’s got an older brother Theo somewhere out there in the world, her dads in prison, and last they heard from her mother she was strung out on drugs in Santa Barbara.” 

Rhea frowned, “Danika really had nothing from the start, no wonder she fights for everything she wants.” 

The pair both grew silent for a long few moments before Dominik started screaming about Damian not helping them clean up like he was supposed to. “You're brat is really getting out of hand.” Damian teased.

Rhea rolled her eyes, “Go dom him, I’m tired, you're kitten stressed me out today.” She groaned.

Damian sat up, pushing her off unceremoniously hard, “DOMINIK I AM TALKING TO YOU'RE MAMI, BE PATIENT, MOCOSO.” There was an indigent squawk from the direction of the bus and a scandalized, I am not a brat, Luis, that had Rhea and Damian both laughing before Damian followed it up with a loud, “No me hagas azotarte, cachorro.” As he stood bones popping, Rhea raised her eyebrow in question, her brain was too tired to sort out the Spanish, “I told him not to make me spank him.” He dipped down to kiss Rhea’s head, “Later, Rip. I have to discipline your child.” 

Rhea rolled her eyes as she watched him walk away. Now she had to find a copy of her kink negotiation list, and that was problematic cause she hadn’t seen one since before she and Jackson got together. Maybe there was a copy in her email somewhere? She reached for her phone and groaned, realizing she left it on the counter, she was too exhausted to move, so she curled up in the swing and snuggled down in the fading scents of Damian’s cologne and Danika’s perfume, there were undertones of Finn’s body wash, she frowned at the lack of Dominik’s scent, but nuzzled down anyways, letting the warm Texas sun lull her to sleep. 

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Hansel & Gretel Witch Hunters AU

So, Lena as Gretel is the daughter of a grand white witch, right? Which means the grand dark witch is hunting her heart for the ritual. The grand dark witch being Rhea, of course.

I like the idea of Mon-el being the asshole sheriff who tries to turn the town against Lena, Lex, and even Kara. Sowing violence and mistrust so that his mother can act with impunity. He's totally human tho, like his dad. Rhea barely tolerates him but for the role he serves.

When Lena and Lex are separated following the witches' raid on the town, they eventually find their way back to each other by stumbling upon their old childhood home. They barely recognize it, but they know that's a witch's lair in the cellar. And Lena, who has been putting the pieces together, tries to tell him what she suspects, but before she can Rhea arrives, reveals Lena's nature as a witch, and knocks them both senseless. When Lex regains consciousness, Lena is gone.

When Kara offers her knowledge and help to stop Rhea (and save Lena), Lex isn't in a position to refuse. With her help, and the book of light spells they find in the lair, they gain just enough of an edge that Lex stands a chance of getting his sister back.

At the ritual site, Lena is tied up for the slaughter. Rhea monologues in front of the other witches who have congregated, waiting for the blood moon eclipse to begin. As the eclipse draws closer, Lena starts to feel a new power build within her-- her own magic swells, itching to be released.

Lex arrives and starts blasting witches' heads off. In the commotion, Kara scurries through the fray to cut Lena loose. But the ropes are thick, and Kara's knife is small. As she saws through the ropes, Lena spots Rhea marching towards them with murder in her eyes.

"Must hurry, must hurry--" Lena mutters, trying to keep her cool.

"I'm almost-- there!" Kara cries, ducking aside as the ropes split apart and Lena surges from the altar to meet Rhea on her feet. Kara tosses her the knife as she goes, and Lena catches it deftly before swiping at Rhea with the blade.

Rhea easily dodges, snarling. Even after Lex flips her a weapon (her favorite crossbow), though, landing single scratch on Rhea proves difficult. She is a grand witch, after all.

Knocking Lena to one side, Rhea looks up to find the blood moon has passed. Her chance to complete the ritual is gone, and won't return for another generation. With Lena still recovering from the last blow, Rhea whirls towards Lex, and slashes her wand through the air between them.

Lena looks up just in time to see the spell gather on the tip of Rhea's gnarled wand, aimed straight for her brother. She screams.

"NO!"

At her cry, a snarled mess of roots pulls from the ground as though bidden, twisting themselves into a savage point that pierces through the back of Rhea's head to protrude through her mouth, widening until the constraint of her gaping teeth halts its growth.

It's too late. Even as Rhea falls limp, hanging lifelessly from the giant thorn of twisted vines, her spell leaves her wand and blasts into Lex's chest. He drops to the ground like a marionette whose strings have been cut.

"Lex!" Lena scrambles to her feet, dashing towards her brother, skidding to her knees beside him. She cradles Lex to her chest, looking to Kara for help. "Please!" she begs. "Please save him!"

Kara can only shake her head. "I can't. He-- He's already gone..."

Horror washes over Lena as reality sets in. After so many years of having only her brother, of protecting him, loving him-- he's gone. She's lost the one person in the world who never left her.

She's alone.

Grief rises sharp and hot within her. Tears fill her eyes as her ears roar. Emotion overcomes her, blinding them both to the unnatural sounds of bony joints clicking out of place behind them as Rhea's limbs begin to bend the wrong way, gripping the roots piercing her skull and climbing off them like a beetle.

By the time Rhea stands her skull has rebuilt itself. Instead of reaching for her wand, her fingers close around the ritual dagger, intent on taking advantage of the distraction of Lex's death to finish the last remaining Luthor sibling.

Just as she draws the knife back to strike, Lena's power surges through, amplified and made unstoppable by Lena's heartbreak as she sobs.

"No!" she screams to the void, sobbing. "NO!"

Her power blasts out of her in every direction, a bright white light that blinds Kara and saturates their surroundings with warmth and love. The force of Lena's magic halts Rhea in her tracks, and ultimately eats her away to nothing. The dagger drops harmlessly to the ground with no one the wiser.

When the light fades and Lena sags, suddenly spent, hopelessness nearly overcomes her. But then Lex sucks in a lungful of air, audibly gasping as he jerks back to life. Kara can only stare as Lena cries out in joy and relief, wrapping her brother in a fierce hug while Lex reels.

Kara has never seen anything like it. Somehow, Lena's power was enough to pull a life back after death had already claimed it. Truly, Lena is a grand white witch.

In the aftermath, Lex and Lena receive their payment and head off to their next adventure. Kara doesn't see them off from the village-- after all, the townsfolk had nearly murdered her. But her heart is still heavy as she sits in the forest outside her lonely cottage. The woods suddenly feel much smaller than they had before she'd met Lena...

"Hey."

Kara looks up to see Lena leaning against a tree, her crossbow slung over one shoulder. Lex stands with a horse and cart just a bit beyond, his features largely unreadable but not nearly so distrustful as they had been a few days ago.

Kara looks back at Lena in time to see a lazy smirk curl the woman's features.

"You coming?"

[a-d-nox]

atalanta, the human huntress (asteroid 36)

Atalanta, left to die at birth due to her father's wish for a male heir, was raised by a bear for first few years of her life. Growing up in the wilderness, and eventually adopted by hunters, she became a skilled huntress. At a very young age, she vowed to Artemis to remain a virgin. And she did her best to keep that vow. Hylaeus and Rhoecus attempted to rape her, and she killed them instead. She frequently overpowered men in many competitive arenas and some say that she was among the Argonauts who sailed with Jason. In one myth in particular Atalanta wrestled Peleus and won during the funeral games of King Pelias. During the hunt for the Calydonian Boar, Atalanta drew first blood and the son of King Oeneus, Meleager, killed it. Meleager was enamored by Atalanta and offered her the skin - his uncles were offended by him and tried to take the skin from her. Meleager killed his own uncles to defend Atalanta's honor and to maintain his respectability. But somewhere in the fray, Meleager sustained an injury (often it is his mother that finds out that he murdered family, so she in turn burns his life source - a piece of wood), and he died. This was not Atalanta's only encounter with a male suitor - after reuniting with her father, he demanded that she be married (despite having been told that her marriage would result in catastrophe). Atalanta still wished to maintain her promise to Artemis though - she felt confident in her athleticism, so she stated that she would marry the first man who could beat her in a footrace. Many suitors failed until one asked Aphrodite for help - his name was either Hippomenes or Melanion (depends on which source you use). Either way this suitor was given three golden apples to drop as the two raced. The suitor dropped an apple whenever she was gaining on him - much like the goddess herself was once enchanted by the prospects of a golden apple, Atalanta was as well. She stopped to pick up each when she noticed they were dropped. When the young man won, the two married. But he forgot to thank the goddess Aphrodite, so she cursed the couple with uncontrollable lust. The two disrespectfully fornicated in a temple dedicated to Rhea. Rhea turned the couple into lions and forced them to pull her chariot. IN MY OPINION Atalanta in your chart can represent a) where you are resilient, b) your feminine strength, c) where you guard your honor physically, d) feminism, e) athleticism and/or f) where love and death are intertwined.

i encourage you to look into the aspects of atalantia along with the sign, degree, and house placement. for the more advanced astrologers, take a look at the persona chart of atalantia AND/OR add the other characters involved to see how they support or impede atalantia!

OTHER RELATED ASTEROIDS: artemis (105), aphrodite (1388), rhea (577), jason (6063), and peleus (11311)!

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[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (18/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6393

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: When Vaemond Velaryon petitions the Crown to grant him succession of Driftmark, Arianwyn is faced with her worst fears.

Warnings: Violence. Mentions of rape.

Series Masterlist

Taglist: @thelittleswanao3 @trap-house-homiecide @50svibes @literishdegree99 @dc-marvel-girl96 @henriettadreaming

The Petition

Arianwyn was woken the following morning not by Brynna, but by her half-sister Rhaena. The girl had snuck into her rooms to lay a gown at the foot of her bed, but Arianwyn was so unsettled by her father’s threats from the night before that even the gentle sound of fabric on fabric startled her from sleep.

“I'm sorry," Rhaena said, wincing when Arianwyn burst awake and scrambled out of bed. "I didn't mean to wake you. Rhaenyra asked that I bring this dress for you to wear today, and I couldn't find your maid."

With her heart still pounding, Arianwyn shook her head. "It's fine. I… I was having a bad dream."

"Do you like it?"

"Like what?"

"The dress."

"Oh," Arianwyn had, in truth, been so startled that she hardly processed Rhaena's words. Then, pulling the sleeve of her nightgown back over her shoulder, she stepped to the end of the bed to examine the dress.

It was one of Rhaenyra's. A red gown with open, flowing sleeves and gold wrist cuffs that she had favored when her children were young. Arianwyn thought it had been retired when the brocade had started to fray. Indeed, when she looked closely at the gold thread on the bodice, she could see where hasty repairs had been made. But, from a distance, it looked as beautiful as ever.

"She wants me to wear this?" she asked Rhaena.

Her half-sister smiled, holding the gown up to try and see how it would look. "Isn’t it sweet of her?”

Arianwyn grimaced. It seemed that, like Alicent, Rhaenyra knew how to send a message via one’s clothing. To clothe her in Targaryen red and in a dress that once belonged to the Princess would indeed create the image of a united family that Rhaenyra desired to present to the court.

Rhaena was still waiting for an answer, but Arianwyn could not say anything she knew her sister wanted to hear.

“Red doesn’t suit me,” she said instead. Not an agreement, but nor was it an insult.

“Well, I think it will look beautiful on you,” Rhaena chirped, far happier than Arianwyn had ever been so soon after waking. “May I help you dress, or shall I find your maid?”

Begrudgingly amused by her sister’s unrelenting cheer, Arianwyn smiled and nodded. “I think Brynna would appreciate a morning to rest.”

Rhaena immediately set to work. She was far more skilled than her long-serving maid at combing the knots from her hair. Having been born with even thicker curls, she no doubt had plenty of experience. And while she tried very hard to convince Arianwyn to let her use a new braiding technique she had learned, she eventually relented to her desire to wear her hair unbound.

Arianwyn’s warming mood waned when she donned the dress. While she was roughly the same size as Rhaenyra when it was made, it was far from a perfect fit. Rhaenyra had always had a more boyish figure, whereas Arianwyn possessed well-developed curves. As such, the fabric of the gown was strained around her chest and hips but hung loosely over her waist. A shame. She had been hoping the dress would not close.

After giving herself a good look in the mirror, Arianwyn turned back to Rhaena. “See, I told you I would look horrid in red.”

“I have never seen a person look so pale,” Rhaena agreed. “It is as if you’ve been rolled in flour.”

Both girls immediately gave in to laughter, wheezing and snorting in a very unladylike manner.

It was then that Brynna finally entered the room, mouth falling agape at the sight of the two young royals in such a state. “By the Seven, what are you doing?” she asked, failing to keep her voice stern. “And Aria, who put that wretched dress on you?”

Arianwyn’s laughter immediately stopped, and she glanced self-consciously down at herself. “Princess Rhaenyra requested that I wear this today,” she explained.

Brynna gave her a pitying, understanding smile. “I see,” she said. “I’ll see if I can find a belt somewhere, try and salvage some semblance of beauty.” With that, she gave a quick curtsy and went back through the door.

Sitting back at the vanity, Arianwyn fiddled with the gown's sleeves. She doubted whether she would ever feel comfortable with the heavy cuffs or the slits down the front of each sleeve. She certainly would not get used to baring her naked shoulders – she would surely be cold all day and would have to resist the temptation to cover herself with her arms.

But the awkward dress was the least of her problems. After what Daemon said to her the night before, she did not know how he would react if the Hand brought up the subject of her release. Her hand trembled as she brought it up to her neck to finger a necklace that was not there.

Rhaena stepped up behind her, placing a gentle hand on her exposed shoulder. “What did they say to you last night?" she asked.

Arianwyn met her sister’s violet eyes through the mirror. “Do you really want to know?”

“No,” Rhaena answered. “But if it is the reason you are behaving so fearfully this morning, I must.”

“They scolded me for being alone with Prince Aemond,” Arianwyn admitted. “And… warned me of the consequences should rumor spread.”

It was a very generous interpretation of the conversation. Long ago, perhaps Arianwyn would have given her the unvarnished truth. Taken a cruel pleasure in seeing her perfect image of her father shatter to reveal the monster beneath. But the scratches Rhaena had once inflicted upon her had long since faded.

Neither of them were the same girls they had been in that tunnel.

Those girls would hate each other forever – they would never be sisters.

Arianwyn and Rhaena were.

And that meant that Rhaena could tell when her sister was lying.

“Was he very cruel to you? Our father?” she asked, though, from the look of dread on her face, it was clear she already knew the answer.

Arianwyn nodded, blinking tears from her eyes. “Even more than usual.”

Rhaena surged forward, clutching her sister in a tight embrace. “I am so sorry, Aria. I wish there was something I could do.”

“There is nothing I would ask of you,” Arianwyn assured. “Just know how much I have valued your kindness – your sisterhood. And that I love you. I truly do.”

“I love you too, Aria.”

-

Arianwyn entered the Throne Room with her family. As ever, she was in the back of the procession. She had no doubt that if little Aegon and Viserys had been brought to the petition, she would have been made to walk behind the nursemaids carrying them.

They were the last to enter, a strategic move on Rhaenyra’s part. But, unfortunately, it meant that all eyes were on them as they approached the base of the dais. Arianwyn shivered, digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from covering her bare shoulders. Of course, she had no opposition to revealing dresses on other women – bolder women. But to her, even this comparatively modest dress made her feel as though she was striding naked past the entire court.

She relaxed slightly when she saw Alicent and her children near the throne. The Queen gave her a weak smile of encouragement, though Arianwyn could see the worry in her dark eyes. Helaena looked like she would rather be in the gardens or her rooms, but that was hardly unusual. Neither was the glassy, distant look in Aegon’s eyes. He probably didn’t even know why he had been pulled from his bed.

And then there was Aemond. He stood behind his siblings, arms crossed across his back as he followed Arianwyn across the room with his eye.

He struggled to maintain control of his breathing when he saw her. As she walked, the fabric of her loose sleeves swayed, revealing glimpses of her arms. How many times had he imagined those arms wrapped around him? How many times had he envisioned pressing loving kisses into the soft skin of those shoulders, now exposed for all to see? He wanted to shield her from the leering eyes of all the other men in the room, to cut out their eyes for even daring to look at her.

But she was not his to protect, as he was reminded when Daemon met his eye. His uncle dared to flash a smug grin, setting Aemond’s blood aflame. He turned back to Arianwyn, following her fearful gaze to Daemon’s side, where the Valyrian Steel sword, Dark Sister, was sheathed.

Daemon had brought a weapon to the Throne Room?

Gods, Arianwyn was afraid, Aemond realized as he cleared the lust from his vision and actually looked at her.

Her hands trembled, even as she held them in tight fists. The bare shoulders he had only just been fantasizing about were taut with tension as they rose and fell with each quick breath she took. The ease and grace she showed when they were together yesterday were gone, replaced by barely concealed terror.

What had Daemon done to her?

But before he could move to her or speak, his grandsire called the court to order.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto boomed from atop the dais, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.”

Daemon scoffed as Otto took his seat on the Iron Throne. Arianwyn flinched at the sound.

Seeing her half-sister’s reaction, Rhaena silently offered her hand. Arianwyn gladly took it and squeezed once to give her thanks.

Across the room, Aemond tried to catch Arianwyn’s eye, but she continued to stare straight ahead at the window behind the throne, shaking as she tried to steady her breath. He crossed his arms tighter across his back, nails digging into the leather of his sleeves.

“The crown will hear the petitions,” the Hand continued. “Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

Vaemond stepped away from Rhaenys and Baela to the center of the room. “My Queen,” he said, bowing his head toward Alicent before facing the throne. “My Lord Hand.”

“The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria,” he began. “For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name.”

In the corner of her eye, Arianwyn saw Daemon and Rhaenyra exchange a look. She shuddered to think what it might mean.

Vaemond dropped his arms to his sides, standing tall and proud even as Daemon scowled at him. “I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin – his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my sons,” Rhaenyra interjected, “the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition.”

Arianwyn clenched her jaw as she looked up to glare at the back of Rhaenyra’s head. She was fast approaching her limit on the Princess’ hypocrisy. Had she not lied to the court about the true parentage of her sons for years to protect her ambitions? Only last night, had she not stood idly by as her husband revealed his intention to whore out his own daughter to further their shared ambitions for the throne?

Perhaps sharing Daemon’s words would sway the court in both Vaemond's and Arianwyn’s favor.

But before Arianwyn could even loosen her jaw, the Queen spoke. “You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” Alicent scolded. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

As Vaemond turned to face the Princess, Aemond, at last, caught Arianwyn’s gaze. He had never seen that look before, full of primal rage and reckless determination. That was not the Arianwyn he knew and loved.

He frowned, widening his eye and giving a subtle shake of his head. Whatever you are thinking, don’t do it, he begged silently.

She stared back at him, tears welling in her eyes. Her mouth fell open slightly as though she were about to speak, but Vaemond continued before a sound could leave her lips.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?” He asked of Rhaenyra, who refused to even look at him. “I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

With an angry glance at Luke, Vaemond again turned to the throne. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition,” he declared. “I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor. The Lord of Driftmark, and the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto said from his seat atop the Iron Throne, dismissing the knight. “Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, striding lazily toward the center of the room as if she had been asked by her nursemaid to clean up after herself rather than formally address the Hand of the King as he sat the Iron Throne.

“If I am to grace this farce with some answer,” she said, her boredom and disdain clear in her voice, “I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very – ”

Her words were cut off when the doors of the throne room burst open, and the King, with a gold mask covering half his face and leaning nearly all his weight on a cane, began to hobble into the room.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

Arianwyn could not tear her eyes from her uncle as he made his way, ever slowly, toward the Iron Throne. His back was so deeply hunched that he now stood no taller than Arianwyn herself. What little hair he still had hung in long, limp tendrils around his sunken, blemished face. He gasped for breath as he walked, revealing many missing or rotted teeth.

This was not the King Arianwyn remembered. Seeing the state he was in, she understood the exhaustion and worry she had seen on so many faces around the Red Keep – on Alicent.

The King was dying.

He stopped at the base of the dais, facing Otto Hightower, who had come down from the throne to meet him. “I will sit the throne today,” he rasped.

“Your Grace,” Otto said, nodding as he stepped away from the throne. It seemed the Hand was as surprised as anyone by the appearance of the poorly King.

When Viserys stumbled on the first step of the dais, Ser Erryk Cargyll leaped forward to catch him. But the King waved him away.

Arianwyn turned away from the heartbreaking sight. She had held on to her anger at the King for so long – for his treatment of Aemond on Driftmark and refusing to bring her home. But she had never wanted to see him suffer – certainly not like this. She had loved him dearly, once.

She looked to Aemond with a question in her gaze. Why didn’t you tell me?

He grimaced, glancing down in shame before looking back at her. I didn’t know how, his pained face seemed to reply.

The clattering of metal drew their attention back to the throne. The King’s crown, the same his own grandsire had worn, had slipped from his brow and onto the stone steps.

Arianwyn tensed as Daemon stepped forward. With Dark Sister at his side, he could easily kill the King here and now and place his wife on the Iron Throne. But he did not, and the steel remained sheathed.

Daemon knelt by his brother’s side and picked up the crown. He wrapped his arm carefully around Viserys and guided him up the steps to the throne. And with a tenderness Arianwyn had never seen, her father crowned the King and retreated from the throne.

Was it supposed to make her feel better, to see that her father was capable of love? That he had the capacity to be gentle and kind to those he truly cared for? Perhaps. But it did not. It only further wounded her long-damaged heart. To know that when he could be so caring, he still chose to hate her so fiercely.

When Daemon again took his place beside Rhaenyra, Arianwyn felt a familiar cold settle in her veins. But, this time, she was sure it was there to stay.

“I must… admit… my confusion,” The King rasped. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

“Indeed, your grace,” Rhaenys answered as all eyes turned to her. She gazed with a guarded expression at Vaemond before stepping to the throne.

“It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son… Lucerys Velaryon.” the Princess’ voice held hesitation, though few noticed it. “His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Arianwyn whipped her head to Rhaena. “Did you know about this?” she asked.

Rhaena shook her head, genuine shock in her eyes. Though she did not seem displeased by the prospect.

The King smiled. “Well… the matter is settled,” he declared. “Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

Silence fell over the hall. Arianwyn’s own heart sank as she realized what the decision meant. The King was still as stubborn as ever. He still favored his firstborn daughter and the cost of even the plain truth. Even if Arianwyn pleaded with him as she had planned and screamed the truth of his crimes for all to hear, she was sure he would deny her and send her back to Dragonstone with her father.

Where Daemon would kill her for insulting him in front of the court.

But Arianwyn was not the only one crushed by the King’s choice.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond Velaryon spat, stalking towards the throne as a lion to its prey. “Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

“’ Allow it?’” Viserys hissed. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

No one in the room dared move, or even so much as breathe as they stood in cautious anticipation at what the would-be heir would do next.

 “That,” Vaemond shouted as he turned on Lucerys, pointing an accusing finger at the nervous young boy. “Is no true Velaryon,” he growled, “and certainly no nephew of mine.”

Rhaenyra stepped in front of Luke, “Go to your chambers. You have said enough.” She scolded Ser Vaemond.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” Viserys said, with a strength greater than his withered body would suggest. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

Pity flowered in Arianwyn’s heart. Vaemond was right. They could all see it. Rhaenyra was stealing his birthright in broad daylight, and no one would defend him.

“You,” Vaemond barked at the King, “may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides! And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this…” He bit back his words as he turned to Rhaenyra, righteous anger twisting his face.

“Say it,” Daemon whispered. A challenge and a threat.

It pushed Vaemond over the final ledge.

“Her children are bastards!” he screamed, “And she is a whore.”

A furious whisper echoed around the room. No one had dared voice such an accusation for years, let alone so brazenly in front of the King.

Aemond smiled, an involuntary gesture. Surely, Vaemond was not so foolish as to think Viserys would ever admit the truth. He had learned that for himself the night he lost his eye.

Indeed, the King raised himself from the throne and brandished his Valyrian Steel dagger in a shaking hand. “I will have your tongue for that,” he snarled.

His smile fell when he heard Arianwyn’s scream.

Her shriek pierced the ears of everyone in the room, drawing their eyes not to her, but to Daemon. And the near-headless body of Vaemond Velaryon falling at his feet.

Everyone had been watching the King. Everyone but her. In her paranoid state, she had immediately noticed when Daemon drew Dark Sister. But he had not swung for her. In a single blow, he had severed Vaemond’s skull just above the jaw, leaving his tongue completely unscathed as the corpse fell to the stone.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon quipped.

Aemond did not see his sister clap her hands over her ears and turn away. He did not hear Otto shout for Daemon’s disarmament. He did not see his father collapse on the throne. He did not even see the growing pool of blood on the throne room floor.

All he saw was Daemon wiping the blood from his blade as he turned back to his family, eyes locking with Arianwyn’s in a silent threat. He saw her face blanche and her lips tremble as she fought her tears and the bile rising in her throat. He saw the hope fade from her steel-grey eyes as she turned and ran from the room.

Not caring who saw, Aemond pushed past his brother and followed.

-

Aemond chased Arianwyn through the halls of the Red Keep until she finally collapsed, falling to her knees in an empty courtyard far from the throne room. He could hear the sound of her dress tearing as she skidded across the gravel, and his heart wrenched as she listened to her agonizing sobs.

“Aria,” he whispered as he knelt beside her, gently laying a hand on her bare shoulders. “Aria, I’m here.”

When she turned to face him, there was a moment where her face softened with relief. But when he laid a hand on her cheek to wipe away a tear, another cry racked through her. He caught her in his arms as she fell into him, and before he could stop himself, he bowed his head forward and laid his lips on her soft cheek, kissing away another tear.

But she did not recoil from him. Rather, she seemed to melt into his touch. Grasping the side of her face in one hand, Aemond ran his nose along her face, unwilling to break the connection, and pressed another kiss to her forehead.

Arianwyn leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck like he was the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground as her tears came harder and faster. He did not know what to say, how to calm her from her frantic state. So, he simply pulled her closer, cradling the back of her head and whispering sweet words into her ear.

After a long while, her breathing finally slowed. She tightened her arms around him and whimpered, “He killed him.”

“I know,” Aemond said, gently rocking her in his arms.

“In front of everyone. He killed him. And no one did anything.”

“I know.”

“What will they do when he kills me?”

Aemond froze. He was utterly paralyzed as he heard his worst fear spoken aloud. The entire world seemed to disappear, leaving only him, Arianwyn, and her horrible words.

He felt his jaw twitching as he struggled to at least appear to remain calm, for Arianwyn’s sake. “He will not kill you,” was all he could bite out.

“He will,” Arianwyn declared. “He said so himself.”

Aemond pushed her back so he could see her face. Her cheeks were nearly as red as her dress, as were the rims of her silver eyes. Tears still fell from those beautiful eyes, and her lip trembled as she stared back at him.

“He told me that all I am is a… a ‘virgin cunt,’” though her voice was shaky and weak, she did not stop when Aemond hissed at her words. “And that if I did anything to jeopardize him selling me off to the highest bidder, he would have no reason to keep me alive.”

When Aemond only stared at her, a dangerous fire in his purple eye, she grabbed the collar of his coat. She needed him to hear what she said. “He killed my mother.”

“What?” his voice was as sharp as freshly quenched steel.

“He hated her. He wanted her gone. So, he killed her.” Once she began, the story spilled forth like fire from a dragon. “He paralyzed her, broke her back and so many bones. And he raped her. It was his final insult. He raped her, and then she was pregnant with me.”

Aemond brought his hands up to cup her jaw. Listening to her and feeling her blood flowing beneath his palms was the only thing keeping him from racing back to the throne room and gutting every person he saw.

“Gerold, Brynna, and her Maester offered her a tea to end the pregnancy,” she halted when Aemond’s hands tightened on her cheeks. She wrapped her own around his wrists, letting him feel her, feel that she was here, and she was alive.

“She refused,” she explained, and he relaxed slightly. “She knew she would not survive the birth, but she did not want him to forget her. So, she had me. As her revenge. That is why he hates me. I am a living reminder that he could not break her.”

Aemond growled, furious now with both Daemon and Rhea Royce. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Arianwyn’s.

“You are not a revenge, nor a reminder,” he rumbled, his voice so low that Arianwyn struggled to hear it, even as close as he was. “You are a person. A beautiful, wonderful, kind, and unbearably good person.”

He stood, raising her with him and wrapping his hands around her waist to hold her steady. “You are so much more than…” he could not bring himself to repeat Daemon’s cruel and crude words, “than whatever your father says you are. You are the Lady of Runestone, and a daughter of House Targaryen.”

“If anyone dares harm you,” he hissed, all his hatred and rage alight in his eye, “I will burn them to ash. I would reduce the whole world to embers to protect you, Aria.”

His words, honest and pure, warmed Arianwyn’s frozen heart. Her tears faded as she finally felt safe in his arms, under his gaze. She stepped forward, resting her head on his chest, saying with her touch what she could not say with her words.

Neither noticed Princess Rhaenys stalking toward them until she grabbed them by the shoulders and tore them apart.

“By all the gods,” she scolded. “Can the two of you not even try to act as though you are guided by your minds and not your…” she stopped herself from finishing the sentence. Taking in Arianwyn’s innocent face, flushed red and stained with tears, she knew that her initial, somewhat vulgar thought was likely inappropriate and inaccurate – at least on Arianwyn’s part.

“Your hearts,” she finished.

Aemond, still clutching Arianwyn’s hand, stepped protectively in front of the girl, his free hand drifting over the dagger he had strapped to his belt. His mouth was a hard, straight line, and the fire in his eye could have boiled the Narrow Sea to vapor.

“Oh please,” Rhaenys scoffed. “If you really think she has anything to fear from me, you’re even stupider than your brother. Aegon, obviously – I hear Daeron has become quite clever after so many years among the Maesters.”

While her attempt to defuse the tension with her wry humor did not sway the Prince for a moment, Arianwyn, at least, seemed to realize there was no imminent danger. She pressed against Aemond’s shoulder, pulling his hand back from the pommel of his dagger. As soon as he felt her move, Aemond, too, relaxed from his defensive posture, leaning back into her touch.

The gesture stunned Rhaenys. It was a precise yet unspoken language between them, revealing a profound familiarity and intimacy that she had only ever seen once before. Between her grandparents – King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne.

Rhaenys had once dreamed of finding a love that pure.

She did love Corlys, and he loved her too. But, despite the veracity of their love, his unrelenting ambition to advance himself and place his blood on the throne always seemed to get in the way of their finding true contentment in only each other.

But Aemond and Arianwyn, young and naïve as they were, and after being separated for so long, seemed to share that great love of legend.

Though Rhaenys was not sure either of them had quite realized it yet.

Arianwyn squeezed Aemond’s hand, driving him to speak. “What is it you want, cousin?” While his voice was soft, Rhaenys could hear the threat buried beneath his words.

“I would like to speak with Arianwyn,” she answered. “Privately, if you would permit it, my Prince.”

Aemond dropped his chin slightly, carefully running his eye over Rhaenys once more to ensure she was not a threat. Then, he glanced down at Arianwyn. Rhaenys could not see his eye, as it was the scarred and covered side of his face that was turned to her.

But she watched as Arianwyn squeezed his arm and hand, giving him a slight nod and a weak but reassuring smile. A moment passed, and she nodded again, a harder set to her grey eyes. Then, hesitantly, Aemond removed his hand from hers.

Rhaenys fought to conceal a grin. Aemond had passed that particular test.

Though every instinct he had screamed at him not to leave Arianwyn, Aemond took a single, cautious step away from her. When she did not reach out to grab him again, he resigned himself fully to leaving her in Rhaenys’ hands.

He looked into her eyes once more, hoping that she understood that he was sincere in his promise. He would burn the world down, starting with Daemon, if that was what it took to keep her safe.

After taking a moment to sear the image of her face – perfect, even in distress – into his memory, Aemond turned and stalked out of the corridor, heading straight for the training yard. If he was to keep himself from killing his uncle this day, he needed to swing his sword at something.

Arianwyn did not say anything, or even move until Aemond was well out of sight. When she finally turned to Rhaenys, there were fresh tears in her eyes. “What is it you wanted to speak to me about, Princess?”

The distress in her voice nearly shattered Rhaenys’ heart there and then. She held her arm out for Arianwyn to take, “Come, let me walk you to your rooms.”

The women walked in silence through the long halls of the castle. Whenever they passed courtiers who tried to stop and engage them in conversation, Rhaenys masterfully brushed them aside without insult, allowing them to make it through the doors of Arianwyn’s rooms without ever breaking their stride.

With the door shut and locked behind them, Rhaenys deposited Arianwyn on the edge of the bed. Still silent, she began tracing the walls of the room with her hands, brushing curtains and tapestries aside in her search. When Arianwyn was finally about to give in to her curiosity and ask what her cousin was doing, a muffled “thud” echoed throughout the room.

Turning to her young cousin with a victorious smirk, Rhaenys pushed gently on the stone next to the vanity. Much to Arianwyn’s surprise, a large section of the wall seemingly detached, swinging open as a door into a dark tunnel.

“What is that?” she asked, unsure whether to be impressed or afraid.

Rhaenys gestured for her to stand and examine it for herself. Arianwyn obeyed, drawing her arms around her when a cool wind from inside the hidden tunnel swept into the room.

“Maegor had these tunnels built throughout the Keep,” Rhaenys explained. “I’m not sure whether it was genius or paranoia, but they have proven very useful to me in the past.”

Arianwyn looked at her cousin with a questioning gaze. Rhaenys chuckled, “I don’t know where most of them lead. The only path I have committed to memory is from my old quarters to the kitchens. To be quite honest, I was not sure there would be an entrance here. But I am glad there is.”

“Why are you showing this to me, Rhaenys?” Arianwyn asked, though she was fairly certain she knew the answer.

Her ever-collected expression fading into worry, the Princess cupped Arianwyn’s cheeks in her hands. “Rhaena told me that something happened last night. Something that made you terrified of Daemon.” Her lilac eyes hardened, and her lips tightened. “I know what he is capable of, more than most. I will not let what happened to my children happen to you.”

“What do you mean?” Arianwyn asked, wrapping her hand around Rhaenys’ elbows.

“I have never believed, not for one moment, that Ser Qarl killed Laenor on a whim,” the Princess explained. “Laenor was a good man – loved by his men. None of them would have turned on him like that without someone else pulling the strings.”

“My father.”

Rhaenys nodded. “Daemon has lusted after Rhaenyra for years. Marrying Laena was his way of coping with the fact that he could not have her. Once Laena was dead, only my son stood in the way of what he had long desired.”

Arianwyn’s heart sank, realizing the deep pain she shared with her cousin. “Ser Laenor was not the first to die.”

“I always suspected Rhea had not been injured by accident,” Rhaenys said as she pulled her hands from Arianwyn’s face. “I am so sorry you have had to live with that burden.”

“It is not my burden to bear,” Arianwyn replied. “I had as little choice in the matter as my mother. I was seeded by his cruelty. Now it seems I may die by it as well.”

As she said the words, Arianwyn was surprised to find they did not spark tears or even a sense of dread. Rather, they nearly brought a sense of peace. After all, it was a good story, if tragic. It was one she could imagine among the gilded pages of a storybook. She always wanted to live a fairy tale, though she had hoped hers would have a happy ending.

Rhaenys grabbed her again, harder this time, her fingers digging into Arianwyn’s skin. “No!” she hissed. “Do not resign yourself to that fate! There are too many people who care for you too much to see you gone so soon.”

Her eyes darkened as she continued, “Our family is heading for dark days, Arianwyn. We will not lose one of the few lights we have left.”

“So what do I do?” Arianwyn begged. The King would surely not grant her release from Daemon. He could hardly walk on his own, let alone stand against his brother. After what he had done in the throne room, she was sure that if Alicent or Otto tried to grant her release, she would end up in a similar fate as Vaemond Velaryon.

Rhaenys turned the girl to face the tunnel. “Escape! Follow these tunnels until you find yourself in the city. Keep your hair covered and find a market. Sell your jewels, your clothes even. Make yourself unrecognizable. As soon as you can, leave King’s Landing. Go to Runestone. I will write to Ser Gerold to expect you, and we will find a way to keep you hidden until you are of age. But you must go. Now.”

Arianwyn’s mind raced. She could not deny the appeal of Rhaenys’ plan, of disappearing until she could actually wield the power she needed to fight her father. But even as her legs itched to race through the tunnel, her heart pulled her back into her rooms.

“I can’t,” she whispered, all too aware of the disappointment on her cousin’s face. “I cannot leave without telling Aemond where I am. I cannot let him worry for me.”

Rhaenys scowled, “Would you rather him weep over your corpse?”

“No!” Arianwyn shot back. Just the image caused her chest to tighten. “If I disappear without him knowing, I cannot predict what he may do. I will not see him hurt, or worse.”

“Fine,” Rhaenys said, biting her lip to stop her from shouting. “Say your goodbyes. Say whatever you need to.” But promise me that you will run at the first sight of danger.”

Arianwyn steeled herself, trying to show confidence even when she did not feel it. If she did run, would she even be able to find her way out of the castle? Would she survive just one night alone in the streets of King’s Landing? Would she be able to make it to the Vale without being caught, or worse?

Would she ever be able to bring herself to leave Aemond?

“I promise.”

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