#he broke your throne and he cut your hair; and from your lips he drew a hallelujah (al/gel)

[cobra-wives]

if i am shaven, then my strength will leave me, and i shall become weak, and be like any other man.

judges 16:17; samson and delilah

[cancelforcipe]

My mind remembered that there is such a song as "Hallelujah".

My mind decided to tie it into the idea of Lord Eclipse AU.

Now I'm quietly dying here from emotional damage.

[choface]

-

[vivemonroi]

Can we talk about Hallelujah and how it represents Solavellan? We've long considered Hallelujah as the hymn for Solavellan, but I never fully realized how deeply it might reflect their love.

I combined lyrics from Leonard Cohen’s version and Rufus Wainwright’s rendition to get a "full picture."

Content spoilers!

I imagine that it’s Lavellan singing to Solas, sharing how she sees him and his story.

Now I′ve heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth The minor falls, the major lifts The baffled king composing Hallelujah

The "baffled king" could represent Solas and his god-like status during the Evanuris era. Even with his power and knowledge, Solas could be seen as someone vulnerable, struggling with the burdens of his choices. This reflects his grandeur and his inner conflict, showing that despite his god-like status, he was still susceptible to doubt, regret, and even love.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

Now that we know more about Solas and Mythal’s relationship, I think that the "her" mentioned is actually Mythal, and Solas was willing to do anything for her. This includes obtaining a physical body and standing by her side no matter what.

She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

But eventually, Mythal leaves Solas, who remains attached to her. She "broke his throne," meaning she pushed him to rebel; she made him cut his hair… and now the guy is bald. Clearly, this represents his betrayal.

The Hallelujah signifies the deepest, most sacred love — he still loved her, even then. But their relationship was ultimately toxic for both of them.

Maybe I've been here before I know this room, I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you I've seen your flag on the marble arch Love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Now Lavellan is singing about herself and her life before Solas. She was alone, especially after the Conclave and becoming the Herald of Andraste. The Dalish rejected her, and humans weren’t her people — much like Solas himself, upon awakening to a world that was no longer his.

With him, she discovers a love deeper than any she has known, she realizes that loving someone is not a "victory march." Her love for him is filled with pain and bittersweetness. It's hard to love him, yet she love him still.

There was a time you'd let me know What's real and going on below But now you never show it to me do you?

This is about the time they shared during the events of the Inquisition. He taught her about the Fade and the ancient gods, but after Trespasser, he vanished, concealing his true self beneath the mask of Fen’Harel.

And then there’s the line, “you’d let me know what’s real.” Remember what Solas said after they defeated Corypheus, just before he walked away forever?

“I want you to know that what we had was real.”

And remember when I moved in you? The holy dark was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Both could represent the time they shared or her attempts to reach him after Trespasser. The "holy dark"— maybe the Blight?

You say I took the name in vain I don′t even know the name But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?

She didn’t know his true title, the Dread Wolf, a part of his very nature and ancient past. Yet she wonders: if she had known, would it have changed anything?

Now there's a different versions for Lavellan who want to save Solas and Lavellan who want to stop him.

The redeemed and happy version.

There's a blaze of light in every word It doesn′t matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

At first glance, it may seem like the holy love, the holy Hallelujah, represents his love for Mythal, and the broken one for Lavellan. But I think it's the opposite: Mythal is a god, yet their love is broken; Lavellan is mortal, but her love for him is divine. Both of them have the power to redeem him, in different ways — one through letting go, and the other through allowing him to be loved.

I did my best, it wasn′t much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I′ve told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

The words point directly to Solas, she tries to convince him, that their love can find a way to endure. She isn't like Mythal, she accepts him, his nature. But he's afraid, he's not allowing himself to move forward.

And even though it all went wrong I′ll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Even in the end, Lavellan still holds onto her love for Solas, with nothing on her tongue but their sacred love.

She is his future.

Now to the grim and sad version

Maybe there's a God above And all I ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you

He deceives her, and all that love has taught her is sorrow. Mythal' and Solas' history confirms that.

She remains steadfast, standing in his path, even if it means his end, because her love and his history taught her "to shoot at someone who outdrew you."

And it′s not a cry you can hear at night It's not somebody who′s seen the light It's a cold and it′s a broken Hallelujah

In this version, their love is doomed to be cold and broken. There is no light. She has given up on him, yet the suffering remains, deep and unrelenting. Still, it is a Hallelujah.

He is all alone, facing his most terrible fear. Yet he believes he deserves it and it's the only thing that can redeem him.

Thank you for reading this! I know I’m being delusional, but it helps me sleep at night.

[imagininghim]

A very broken Hallelujah

A/N: I've recently been listening to the song Hallelujah and I can't get this imagine out of my head, I hope you enjoy!

There is not enough Lucifer imagines and smut out there so please request away, or write some because your girl is in desperate need!

Blurb: You're on a hunt for a demon with the Winchesters, Castiel and a certain little devil at a lounge. The boys ask you to pose as a lounge singer to attract the attention of the demon but little do you know, that's not the only attention you catch.

Pairing: Lucifer x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings: not a one, just some sweet and fluffy devil loving.

"You want me to do what?" I questioned as I stared blankly at the two boys from the backseat of the impala.

"You know, just sing a song or two while Sam and I hunt for the black eyed bastard." Dean said with a smile. "It won't be that bad, I've heard you sing in the shower before. You're great!" Before I could argue Sam spoke up.

"What Dean is trying to say is, we just need you to distract the crowd while we search for him, as soon as we find him, we'll signal for you and we can leave." Sam said with hope in his voice.

"Why can't we just send Lucifer to find the demon, I'm sure he already knows where he is." I said sending a glance across the seat at the former archangel.

"We can't trust him enough to actually help, which is why Cas is going to sit in the crowd with him and keep an eye on you and him while we hunt." Sam responded simply, I let out a sigh knowing there was no way I was gonna win this argument.

"Fine, but you both owe me." I said with a huff.

"Deal."

We drove the rest of the way to the lounge in silence, every now and then I could feel a set of eyes trailing over me, I looked over at Cas who was sitting next to me, focusing on the road ahead and then at Lucifer who was simply staring out the window. I shrugged it off, thinking it was a coincidence and turned back to the window.

Once we arrived, we all shuffled out of the car. Sam and Dean, came prepared already dressed in suits while Cas and Lucifer wore their normal attire.

"(Y/N), I packed you a bag with a dress and some heels." Sam began, handing me over the duffel bag. "They have a dressing room you can get ready in, you'll be on in fifteen minutes, so you better get going." I nodded before sending a glare at Dean and making my way into the lounge.

After I got dressed and freshened up, the makeup I had already been wearing, I heard the stage manger call my name. Taking in a deep breath, I made my up the stairs and onto the stage.

As I over looked the crowd, I locked eyes with a pair of light blue ones. For a moment, it looked like they flashed red but I just shrugged it off as being nothing.

Walking to the mic, silence fell amongst the crowd as a piano began with a familiar tune. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, beginning to sing.

"Now I've heard there was a secret chord, that David played, and it pleased the Lord, but you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor falls, the major lifts, the baffled king composing Hallelujah" I reopened my eyes to only find them staring back into Lucifer's. I continued to stare as I sung, feeling as if it was just the two of us in the room.

"Your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you, she tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, and she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah." As the song continued, Lucifer and I never once broke eye contact, he began leaning forward and placing his elbows as I sang. Looking as if he was locked into some sort of trance.

"Maybe I have been here before, I know this room I, I've walked this floor, I used to live alone before I knew you, I've seen your flag on the marble arch, love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah." I closed my eyes as the song went on as an image appeared in my thoughts.

It was all pitch black but the faint sound of the piano played on, I looked around as I heard footsteps approaching.

"Care to dance." I turned around to see Lucifer standing in an all black suit, with his hand held out to me. I glanced his hand and then back at his eyes, which were now illuminating a bright red. I placed my hand in his and nodded. Taking ahold of me, he slid his hand around my waist and pulled me close.

"There was a time you let me know, what's real and going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you? And remember when I moved in you? The holy dark was moving, too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah"

We continued to dance, holding on to one another while staring deeply into each other's eyes. It wasn't until I heard what sounded like the flapping of wings, that I took notice. Outstretched behind Lucifer was his wings, they were black and battered but they were still breathtaking.

"Can I touch them?" I questioned as I stopped dancing, and continued to stare in awe of his wings.

"You can see them?" Lucifer questioned in slight shock.

"Yes and they're beautiful." I reached out my hand before glancing at him, he nodded in response and ran my fingers through the soft silkiness of his feathers, he let out a soft moan as I continued.

"You know, they say only your soulmate can see your wings. The person you're destined to be with." Lucifer said softly as I turned to look at him.

"Maybe there's a god above, and all I ever learned from love, was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you, and it's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah." The song finished up, and I reopened my eyes as the crowd erupted in clapping and cheering. Breaking the eye contact from Lucifer, I noticed Sam signalling me that they had finished the hunt. I took a small bow and made my way off the stage.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in once I reached the dressing room, I glanced up in the mirror to see Lucifer standing behind me.

"You sang beautifully." He said simply. I turned around to only take in notice of his wings in person.

"Yo-your wings." I stuttered dumbfounded that I could actually see them.

"It's you, (Y/N)." He began coming towards me, cupping my cheek in his hand.

"It's always been you."

[nixiefics]

A Tangle of Souls - Chapter 4

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Jaena)

Tropes: Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Targaryen typical incest, smut, swearing, drinking, canon typical violence and death

As Jaena entered her chambers, the faint scent of jasmine wafted through the air, mingling with the soft glow of candlelight that danced across the room. Neseya sat gracefully at the small table by the window, her silhouette outlined against the backdrop of the setting sun. Dark tendrils of hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid midnight, framing her features with an air of mystique.

Their fabricated bond, spun by the intricate webs of deception orchestrated by Jason Lannister, served as a precarious facade in the halls of King's Landing.

Despite the scant acquaintance, Jaena's movements exuded a quiet determination as she approached Neseya, her steps measured and purposeful. Neseya, her pretence carefully crafted to exude maternal love, met Jaena's gaze with a practiced warmth that masked the uncertainty lingering beneath the surface.

As Jaena drew nearer, the tension between truth and falsehood hung palpably in the air, a silent testament to the intricate dance they were entangled in.

"So, Neseya, why exactly are you here?" Jaena's voice sliced through the silence, each word laced with suspicion as she broke the tension that hung in the air like a heavy fog. Her arms folded across her chest, a barrier of defiance against the world she sought to unravel.

Neseya's lips curved into a smile, a mere whisper of amusement that danced upon her features like a fleeting shadow. "Straight to the point, I see. Very well," she conceded, her voice a melodic cadence that belied the gravity of their conversation.

"I orchestrated our convergence in King's Landing," Neseya continued, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You see, I harbour ties to the Lannister family, connections I've kept hidden until now. But my intentions toward you, Jaena, are not tinged with malice. No, those sentiments I reserve for others. With you, I see potential, an opportunity waiting to be seized for mutual gain."

As Neseya spoke, she took a sip from her goblet, her movements leisurely as if time itself bowed to her whims. The goblet, a delicate vessel of crystal, caught the fading light, casting prisms of colour across the room in a kaleidoscope of hues.

Jaena's brows furrowed in disbelief, a ripple of scepticism marring the porcelain smoothness of her features. "Opportunity? What kind of opportunity involves parading me around as the daughter of a prince I've never met?" Her voice, sharp as the crack of a whip, cut through the air.

Neseya leaned forward, the hint of a smile playing upon her lips as she considered Jaena's words. "A profitable one, my dear Jaena," she replied, her voice a whisper that carried the weight of her ambitions. "You see, in this game of thrones, power is everything. And with the right connections, we can secure a place of great influence in Westeros."

Jaena scoffed, her disbelief palpable in the air between them like a thick fog. "Influence? Is that what you think this is about? Daemon Targaryen, knowingly or otherwise, abandoned me to a life secluded from the world; Jason Lannister took me and raised me like a prize pig, ready to slaughter only when he was ready-"

But before Jaena could finish her sentence, Neseya raised a hand, silencing her with a solemn gaze that held the weight of centuries in its depths. "Your father and Lord Lannister's motivations are of little consequence now," she interjected, her voice a gentle admonition that cut through the bitterness that threatened to consume them both. "What matters is what we can achieve together. A life of freedom from the confines of a lonely tower, and the opportunity to forge your own path in this world."

Jaena's features softened, the icy facade melting away to reveal a glimmer of hope that shimmered like a distant star in the darkness. "And how do you propose we accomplish this?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

Neseya's smile widened, a flicker of mischief dancing in the depths of her obsidian eyes. "With the help of someone who wields far greater power than any king or prince," she replied cryptically, her words hanging in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled. "The Red Priestess of R'hllor, Kinvara, possesses many abilities. Rest assured, Jaena, she will visit you soon with requests. And when she does, you will be ready to comply."

Queen Alicent Hightower's private quarters, despite their opulence, carried an air of uneasy formality that evening. The dinner was meant to be a private affair, but the presence of Jaena, the girl who had arrived earlier that day claiming to be the trueborn daughter of Daemon Targaryen, added a layer of tension to the room.

The table was set with meticulous care. Alicent herself had ensured that the finest linens and the most exquisite of the Red Keep's porcelain were used. The golden candelabras flickered gently, their flames casting long shadows on the tapestried walls.

Queen Alicent sat at the head of the table, her demeanour composed but her eyes betraying a hint of wariness. To her right sat Aegon, slouched in his chair, his fingers drumming on the table impatiently as he eyed the goblet of wine before him. He had already emptied two and was on his way to a third, his disinterest in the evening’s proceedings clear.

Helaena sat quietly beside him, meticulously dissecting a plate of roast fowl, her eyes occasionally darting to the centrepieces, where a collection of exotic beetles in glass cases had been arranged for her amusement. Every so often, she muttered something under her breath, her cryptic words lost to the others in the room.

Aemond, ever the epitome of seriousness, sat across from Helaena. His single eye, sharp and calculating, never left Jaena for long. His scepticism was palpable, and he maintained a stoic silence, his fingers absently tracing the scar that ran from his forehead to his jawline, a permanent reminder of the childhood altercation with his nephews and cousins.

To the left of Alicent sat Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King. His presence was imposing, his demeanour one of controlled authority. He observed the proceedings with a critical eye, his expression revealing little of his thoughts. Everyone agreed that Ser Otto was a skilled man in his position, but serving two kings had made him haughty, direct, abrupt with others, dominant, and proud. The more he served as Hand, the more imperious he became, and holding the second most powerful position in the kingdom had made him very ambitious.

Jaena, the centre of attention, was seated next to Otto. Her long silver-blonde hair, so reminiscent of the Targaryen lineage, had been done in a Pentoshi style that ended in a bun that made Alicent cringe at the thought of the weight.

"Tell us more about Pentos," Aemond prompted, his tone polite but edged with a challenge. "I've heard it is a city of great wealth and some intrigue."

Jaena smiled, a practiced, serene expression. "Indeed, my prince. Pentos is a place of beauty and mystery. Its people are as varied as the colours of the sea, and its traditions are rich and ancient. I spent much of my time painting the landscapes, capturing the essence of its vibrant culture."

Aegon snorted into his goblet, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "Sounds like a convenient story to me," he muttered, taking another long drink of his wine.

"Aegon," Alicent chided softly, her gaze flicking to her eldest son with a mixture of frustration and resignation.

"It's true," Aegon continued, ignoring his mother's reprimand. "Why should we believe you, Jaena? You show up out of nowhere, claiming to be our cousin. What proof do you have?"

Jaena's eyes met his calmly. "I seek no throne, no power," she said, her voice steady. "I only wish to be acknowledged for who I am. The truth will reveal itself in time, as it always does."

Helaena, who had been quietly observing a beetle, looked up suddenly. "The truth is a many-legged creature," she said softly, like smoke, curling and lingering long after she had spoken.

Aemond glanced from his sister to Jaena and his eye narrowed. "How convenient for you to say. But words are wind. Proof is what matters."

Otto Hightower leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "Proof can be difficult to come by, especially in matters of lineage," he said, his tone even. "But it is not beyond our reach. We will investigate your claims thoroughly, Jaena. Rest assured, we will uncover the truth."

Alicent raised her hand, signalling for calm. "Enough," she said firmly. "We are here to dine as a family. Let us set aside our doubts and questions for now and simply share this meal."

The servants began to bring in the courses, starting with a delicate soup of river trout, followed by roasted venison with a sauce of rich, dark berries. The food was sumptuous, but the atmosphere remained taut with unspoken tension. Conversation was sparse, punctuated only by the clink of silverware and the occasional murmur from Helaena.

Aegon, growing increasingly inebriated, leaned closer to Jaena. "So, cousin," he drawled, "your egg did not hatch."

Jaena's smile didn't waver. "It did not," she replied calmly, even as her eyes darted to her lap. "But perhaps one day, I will claim my own as Prince Aemond did."

Aemond's lips curled into a smirk. "Being a dragonrider is not for the faint of heart. It requires true courage and strength."

"Qualities I am sure you possess in abundance, Prince Aemond," Jaena said, inclining her head.

Otto leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Jaena. "Tell us, girl," he began, his voice calm yet commanding, "how do you intend to prove your claims? Do you have any tangible evidence, any relics or documents, that might support your story?"

Jaena met his gaze steadily, carefully considering her words. "My mother, Neseya, possesses the proof of my lineage," she said. "She has kept records and documents from my birth. They include a letter from Prince Daemon and a seal that can only be his."

Aemond scoffed. "Letters can be forged, and a seal proves little. It’s a weak claim at best."

Otto raised a hand to silence his grandson. "We will examine these items when they are presented. Until then, we must proceed with caution but also with an open mind."

The dinner dragged on, each course more lavish than the last, but the conversation never fully thawed. Alicent made a few attempts to steer the talk toward lighter topics, asking Helaena about her latest insect collection and Aemond about his training, but the underlying tension was impossible to ignore.

As the final course was cleared away and dessert — a delicate lemon cake with honeyed cream — was served, Aegon, now thoroughly drunk, stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I've had enough of this charade," he declared, his voice slurred. "Enjoy your painting and your stories, Jaena. But don't expect me to believe them."

He staggered out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. Alicent sighed, her expression weary. "I apologize for my son," she said to Jaena. "He is... troubled."

Jaena inclined her head gracefully. "There is no need, Your Grace. I understand."

Helaena looked up from her plate, her eyes wide and distant. "The spider weaves its web, unseen by those who tread too heavily," she murmured.

Aemond rose from his seat, his gaze still locked on Jaena. "I will find the truth of your claims," he said quietly, a promise and a threat all in one. "And if you are who you say you are, then you will have my respect. But if not..."

"There is no need for threats, Aemond," Alicent interjected, her voice sharp. "We will handle this matter with the dignity it deserves."

Otto nodded in agreement, his expression stern. "Indeed. This is a delicate matter, and we must approach it with the gravity it warrants. Jaena, you will provide us with whatever evidence you have. We will examine it thoroughly, and until then, you will remain our guest."

Jaena met Aemond's stare without flinching. "I welcome the truth," she said softly. "It is the only thing that matters."

Otto leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "You speak well, girl," he said, his tone colder. "But words can only carry you so far. If you are not who you claim to be, understand that deception will not be forgiven lightly in this court."

Jaena nodded, her demeanour unfazed. "I understand, Lord Hand. I assure you, I have nothing to hide."

Otto held her gaze for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair. "We shall see. My men will collect the records from your mother tomorrow. I will personally ensure they are authenticated."

As the dinner came to a close, the tension in the room remained thick, the air heavy with unspoken words and unresolved doubts. Alicent watched as her children left the table one by one, her heart heavy with worry for the future. Jaena, the mysterious girl with the silver hair, had brought with her a storm of uncertainty, and it was clear that this was only the beginning.

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the stone walls of the chamber as Prince Daemon Targaryen reclined in a plush chair, his dark eyes scanning the room with a predatory gaze. The silence was thick, interrupted only by the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth. A goblet of wine rested on the table beside him, untouched, as he read through a new book of Valyrian histories.

Pentos lay sprawled beneath the window, a sprawling city of pale domes and minarets, nestled beside the vast expanse of the Shivering Sea. The city's cobbled streets wound through bustling markets, where merchants from distant lands hawked their wares – spices, silks, and gems that glittered like stars under the midday sun. The scent of exotic foods and the sound of foreign tongues filled the air, a testament to the city's worldly nature. Elegant manses of wealthy magisters dotted the landscape, their high walls guarding secrets and wealth alike.

Daemon found a strange comfort in the city’s chaos. Yet tonight, his thoughts were elsewhere, clouded with concerns for his family. His wife, Laena Velaryon, was heavily pregnant. The maesters had warned of complications, and though Daemon put on a brave front, the worry gnawed at him. His twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena, were thirteen years old, standing on the cusp of womanhood, their bond unbreakable. Their fierce spirit and determination reminded him so much of himself, and he would do anything to protect them.

A knock echoed through the chamber, pulling Daemon from his thoughts. He turned his head sharply, irritation flashing across his features. “Enter,” he commanded, his voice a low growl.

A servant stepped in, head bowed, holding a parchment sealed with the royal crest. Daemon’s eyes narrowed as he took the letter, dismissing the servant with a flick of his wrist. He broke the seal and unfurled the parchment, his eyes scanning the elegant script of his brother’s hand.

"Daemon,

I write to you with a matter of utmost urgency. You are to come to King’s Landing at once. There are rumours that require your attention, and I require your presence here.

Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men

Lord of the Seven Kingdoms

Protector of the Realm"

Daemon’s brow furrowed as he read the letter again. What could be so urgent? He had heard whispers; rumours of a girl claiming to be his daughter. But he dismissed such talk as the idle gossip of court. He had always been loyal to his family, fiercely so, but this... He crumpled the letter in his hand, the parchment crackling under his grip.

"Viserys always with his cryptic messages," Daemon muttered to himself. "What game are you playing, brother?"

Daemon rose from his chair, his movements smooth and purposeful. He strode to the window, staring out over the darkened landscape of Pentos. His mind raced with possibilities. A girl claiming to be his daughter? He had sired no bastards, or so he believed. The idea of a child, his blood, roaming the world unknown to him, gnawed at his insides.

He turned away from the window, his decision solidifying. King’s Landing held answers he needed, and he would uncover them. His path was set, and he would not shy away from whatever awaited him there.

His thoughts drifted back to Laena, resting in their chambers. He worried for her and the unborn child she carried. Despite his fierce exterior, the love he held for his family was boundless. Baela and Rhaena needed their father, and he would ensure they had him for as long as he could fight.

Just as he was about to call for his preparations to begin, another knock came at the door, this one softer, more deliberate. Daemon’s eyes narrowed. “Enter,” he said again, his tone edged with curiosity.

The door opened to reveal a figure draped in red and gold, her eyes a striking shade of amber that seemed to glow in the dim light. She stepped forward with a grace that spoke of confidence and power.

“Prince Daemon,” she said, her voice smooth and melodic. “I am Kinvara, a servant of the Lord of Light. I bring you a message.”

Daemon’s curiosity turned to suspicion, his gaze locking onto Kinvara with a steely intensity. “A message? From whom?” His hand drifted towards the hilt of Dark Sister, ready to draw the blade at a moment’s notice.

“From the flames,” Kinvara replied, her eyes never leaving his. “And perhaps, from your future.”

Daemon's lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes remained cold. “I have no time for the riddles of red priestesses. Leave now, or I will cut you down.”

Kinvara didn’t flinch. Instead, she raised her hands, and the temperature in the room seemed to rise. The flames in the hearth roared higher, casting an otherworldly light. She began to chant softly, the words foreign yet resonant.

“Look into the flames, Prince Daemon,” Kinvara said, her voice almost hypnotic. “Your path is entwined with this girl’s fate. To ignore it is to court disaster for your family.”

The flames twisted and turned, forming shapes and images that caught Daemon’s eye despite himself; he saw visions—himself in King’s Landing, a young girl with silver hair, and a throne room filled with tension and intrigue. The images flickered and shifted, but the message was clear.

Daemon’s hand dropped from Dark Sister’s hilt, his eyes fixed on the flames. The hostility in his gaze softened into reluctant curiosity. “Very well, Kinvara. Speak, and let us see what else the flames have to say.”

As Kinvara continued, the shadows danced around them, and Daemon listened intently, ready to face whatever destiny awaited him in King’s Landing.

The corridors of the Red Keep were a labyrinthine maze of secrets, but Aemond knew them well. As a child, he had explored these hidden passages with an insatiable curiosity, learning every twist and turn, every creaky floorboard and shadowy alcove. Tonight, that knowledge served him well as he made his way silently to the private quarters where Jaena had been given a room.

The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the narrow windows, casting elongated shadows on the stone walls. As Aemond approached Jaena's door, he heard a soft, melodic voice. He pressed his ear to the cool wood, straining to catch the words of the song she was singing. It was a lullaby, unfamiliar yet hauntingly beautiful, sung in the ancient tongue of Old Valyria.

"By the fires of the great Qelbar,

Where dragons soared and stars were born,

Close your eyes and dream so sweet,

In lands where night and day do meet.

In silver seas and golden skies,

Where shadows dance and phoenix flies,

Rest your head and find your peace,

As starlight weaves a dreamer's fleece.

The mountains high, the rivers wide,

In dreams, dear child, you'll safely bide.

The fire's glow, the dragon's roar,

Will guard you now and evermore.

So sleep, my love, and do not fear,

For in your dreams, I will be near.

The ancient songs, the tales old,

Will guide you to the light of gold."

Aemond's breath caught in his throat. The melody was filled with a sorrowful longing, a connection to a past that was as much myth as memory. Gently, he pushed the door open a crack, careful to keep silent as he peered inside.

Jaena sat on the edge of her bed, hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight. She was lost in her song, her eyes closed as if she were seeing something far beyond the confines of her room. Spread out before her was a collection of paints and brushes, a blank canvas waiting for her touch.

Aemond watched as she reached for a brush, his eye tracing the graceful curve of her neck and the delicate line of her shoulders. Her figure, accentuated by the soft gown she wore, was both slender and womanly, exuding a quiet strength that intrigued him. She dipped the brush into a pot of deep blue paint, then brought it to the canvas, beginning to sketch out the faint outlines of a mural. Dragons took shape under her hand, their forms fluid and majestic, intertwined with stars and swirling mists.

The song faded into a gentle hum, and Jaena opened her eyes, a serene smile playing on her lips. Aemond, entranced by the scene, took an involuntary step forward, the door creaking slightly under his weight.

Jaena's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Who's there?" she called, her voice steady despite the sudden intrusion.

Realizing he had been discovered, Aemond pushed the door open fully and stepped into the room. "It's just me," he said, his tone attempting to be reassuring.

Jaena's expression shifted from surprise to curiosity. "Prince Aemond," she acknowledged, setting her brush down carefully. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Aemond hesitated, searching for the right words. "I... heard your song," he admitted. "It was beautiful. I didn't mean to intrude."

She regarded him for a moment, her gaze probing yet kind. "It's an old lullaby from Valyria," she explained softly. "Always brings me peace."

Aemond nodded, stepping closer to the mural. "You're quite talented," he observed, his eye tracing the lines of the dragons she had begun to paint. "It looks almost alive."

"Thank you," Jaena replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "I find peace in painting as well. It helps me feel connected to my surroundings."

Aemond's gaze lingered on her, a mix of admiration and something deeper, something he couldn't quite name. "I understand that feeling," he said quietly. "I feel it best astride Vhagar."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the tension of the dinner earlier in the evening seeming to dissipate in the soft glow of moonlight and the quiet intimacy of the room. Aemond took a step closer, drawn to the serenity that seemed to emanate from Jaena.

"I apologize for my harsh words earlier," he said, his voice sincere. "It's difficult to trust in these times, but I don't want to judge you unfairly."

Jaena's eyes softened, and she gave a small nod. "I understand, Prince Aemond. Trust must be earned. I hope that in time, you will see that I am not here to cause harm."

Aemond inclined his head, accepting her words. "Perhaps, with time, we will come to understand each other better."

As he turned to leave, Jaena's voice stopped him. "Aemond," she called softly. He looked back, meeting her gaze. "Thank you for listening to my song."

He gave her a small, genuine smile. "Good night, Jaena."

"Good night, Prince Aemond," she replied, watching as he slipped back into the shadows of the secret passage.

As the door closed behind him, Jaena returned to her painting, her heart lighter than it had been in days. She dipped her brush into the paint, the lullaby's melody still echoing in her mind, and began to bring her vision to life on the canvas, feeling a newfound sense of hope.

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to drop a quick note about something that really helps me out. If you’re enjoying my fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear it! However, simply hitting the 'like' button doesn’t help spread my work for others to see and enjoy.

If you could use the 'reblog' button and share your thoughts in the comments, it would make a huge difference. Reblogging promotes my work to a wider audience, and your feedback (both the good and the constructive) helps me improve my writing.

Thank you so much for your support and understanding!

Best,

💕 Nixie 💕

[glennrheesdaughter]

Hallelujah

As the survivors arrived at Hershel Greene's farm, the group heard a beautiful voice singing in the distance. Daryl Dixon's ears perked up, and he moved towards the sound. As he got closer, he saw that it was his wife, y/n, singing "Hallelujah" with a guitar in hand. He stood there, transfixed and emotional, as he listened to her sing.

The other survivors stopped in their tracks, drawn in by the sound of y/n's voice. They all gathered around, listening in awe as she sang.

"Now I've heard there was a secret chord

That David played, and it pleased the Lord

But you dont really care for music, do you?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor falls, the major lifts

The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne, and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well, maybe there's a God above

As for me all I've ever learned from love

Is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

But it's not a crime that you're hear tonight

It's not some pilgrim who claims to have seen the Light

No, it's a cold and it's a very broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Instrumental

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well people I've been here before

I know this room and I've walked this floor

You see I used to live alone before I knew ya

And I've seen your flag on the marble arch

But listen love, love is not some kind of victory march, no

It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know

What's really going on below

But now you never show it to me, do you?

And I remember when I moved in you

And the holy dove she was moving too

And every single breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Now I've done my best, I know it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didnt come here to London just to fool you

And even though it all went wrong

I'll stand right here before the Lord of song

With nothing, nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah."

When she finished, there was a moment of silence before the group erupted in applause.

"That was beautiful, y/n," Glenn said.

"I didn't know you could sing like that," Maggie added.

Rick stepped forward. "We could all use a little bit of beauty in this world right now. Thank you for sharing that with us."

Daryl couldn't speak, his heart filled to the brim with pride and love. He walked up to y/n and took her into his arms, kissing her deeply.

"I knew you had a talent for music," he whispered. "But I had no idea it was this beautiful."

Y/n blushed and smiled. "I've been practicing. It's been my way of coping with everything that's happened."

"Well, keep practicing," Daryl said. "Because we could all use a little bit of beauty in our lives."

The group all nodded in agreement, and y/n strummed her guitar once more, beginning to sing again. This time, the others joined in, singing along to "Hallelujah" as a group, their voices rising up in harmony. It was a moment of unity, of hope, and of love. And for a moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the sound of their voices and the warmth of their shared humanity.

[thoroughlyskeptic]

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne, and she cut your hair

And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah

__________________________

The rulers of the Philistines went to her and said, "See if you can lure him into showing you the secret of his great strength and how we can overpower him so we may tie him up and subdue him. Each one of us will give you eleven hundred shekels[1] of silver."

While they were in high spirits, they shouted, "Bring out Samson to entertain us." So they called Samson out of the prison, and he performed for them

__________________________

Not everything is symbolic, but signs are everywhere.

[yourdreamysalamander]

"Hallelujah" Song by Leonard Cohen

When at age 50 Cohen first recorded the song, he described it as "rather joyous", and said that it came from "a desire to affirm my faith in life, not in some formal religious way, but with enthusiasm, with emotion." Beautiful song. Have a blessed day! Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah live performance (youtube) Wiki detailing Leonard's life.

Now I've heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth The minor falls, the major lifts The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you She tied you to a kitchen chair She broke your throne, and she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain I don't even know the name But if I did, well, really, what's it to you? There's a blaze of light in every word It doesn't matter which you heard The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you And even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah

[burning2know]

I'm sure someone already thought these thoughts at some point in the last decade. I'm on a Samson & Delilah kick in my Solavellan brainrot era. These sre just some thoughts.

The story of how my attention got turned to Samson & Delilah is in Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah lyric

"She tied you to the kitchen chair

She broke your throne and she cut your chair

and from your lips she drew a Hallelujah."

Fellow Solasmancers will know the significance of this song. But this particular bit is referencing the story of Samson and Delilah, in which Samson has superpowers that helped him become a powerful leader. His enemies wanted to thwart him but couldn't find a weakness, so they sent the seductress Delilah to weasle it out of him.

He tells her a bunch of lies, initially, like tying him to a chair or weaving his hair into the loom. At that point, he was very close to telling her the truth, because his actual weakness is getting a haircut. During their time together, Delilah tries out all of these things and discover that they don't work and Samson gets out of all of them.

Eventually, Delilah complains that Samson doesn't trust her, and that if he really loved her, he would tell her. And in an immense display of poor judgement (which is ironic given that he is one of the Judges of Israel), he tells her in confidence that the source of his power is his luscious locks. So then Delilah cuts his hair and sends him to her enemies who shave him and render him powerless.

Interestingly, the story ends with a gathering of his enemies to celebrate his execution and demise. But little did they know, (since his hair had grown back) Samson regained some strength and pushed the entire building down, taking down his enemies with him in his final act.

After this story, Delilah became known as a sexy traitor, an OG femme fatale. Even though she is never mentioned again (as far as I know). One wonders what became of her.

So here's what I think is interesting. Solas is powerful, even though ironically, he is already without hair. And he's doing what will destroy Lavellan's people, (note: not Solas's people). But from the outside looking in (or really a thousand years looking back), they're not That different, kind of like Samson's people and his enemies.

Even though Lavellan didn't seduce him with the goal of betrayal, she did make him almost betray himself, which is really the first betrayal of Samson, that he chose to tell her, he betrayed his own power. What's interesting to me is that, in the story, it's unclear if Samson knew what was happening, if he knew what Delilah's plans were to give him up to his enemies, why would he have been, apparently, falling in love with her, or at least enough to tell her the biggest secret of his life and trust her to keep it? Had he not noticed all of the shenanigans? I mean, how do you break out of the ropes without knowing what's happening? It's like how Solas is Very aware that his relationship with Lavellan may well unravel his resolve and ruin his plans. But against his better judgment he goes on the journey anyway.

So if the parallel happens all the way to the end like Samson & Delilah, we may see his undoing by Lavellan's hand in Veilguard. We may see him taking down much of thedas with him as he and his plans are foiled, in a final sacrfice for his people. That is just Devastating to me. It's such a waste (of what? of lives, effort, "human" potential?)

The Wyvern scene, to me, is like Samson telling Delilah about his hair in the loom. It's dangerously close to to his undoing, but Solas ultimately decides not to trust Lavellan. And even during Tresspasser, he is careful not to give too much away (despite basically outlining all of his plans). He chose differently than Samson.

But why? Given the hair thing, Solas is already bald. Which suggests that he's already been betrayed before and had his power taken from him. And like Samson, it grows back after a while, but he's still weaker than he was. So here we are in what seems like the middle of the journey.

The question is how closely will the ending of Solasvellan following Samson and Delilah. In my opinion, not very much.

The fun thing is that, unlike Samson and Delilah, the betrayal goes the other way. The inquisitor has superpowers, the source of which Solas knew all along. Then Solas betrays Lavellan by leaving her and then taking her source of power too. But he does NOT give her up to her enemies. Notably, he is trying hard to preserve her (and everybody else), as much as he can. But we don't hear about Delilah after Samson is subdued. At the very least, Lavellan will be mentioned again in the story and will be important in her own right even aside from Solas.

So while ruminating on the story of Samson and Delilah, though I was unsettled by the parallels, I think circumstances are different enough that Solavellan will have a different outcome.

[bijoumikhawal]

life times in enemy territory- a garak playlist

Commentary about why each song under the cut!

Better than me- the Brobecks Look at what you've done, now I'm a mess/Today I even thought I'd wear a dress/It's beautiful, so smart/And no good for me/At all

Commentary track: Garak at Ba’amaren. Surrounded mostly by upper class idiots strutting about and looking down on him even though they feel the need to steal the credit for his tactical knowledge, developing emotions for both people who are actually kind and the first man to ever beat him up.

Hallelujah- Leonard Cohen Your faith was strong but you needed proof/You saw her bathing on the roof/Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her/She tied you to a kitchen chair/She broke your throne, and she cut your hair/And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Commentary track: more ASIT references- a poet overthrown by his love of a woman, who he explicitly connects to faith and religion? Fits the vibe pretty hard. A similar vibe is the Lesbian version of Maddy Groves I can't put on this playlist because it's only on bandcamp.

Brutus- the Buttress I always knew I could be the one/Though I feel the endless pain of being/And I am scorched by the sun/Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex/My name is Brutus, but the people will call me Rex

Commentary track: not on this playlist for the gendervibes, more for the utter jealousy and the fact that Garak would fume about a song related to Ceasar being associated with him.

Alligator Teeth- Mother Falcon Things are not like they seem/Things are not like they seem/Things are not like they seem/That’s what I’ve learned of dreams

Commentary track: a song about anxiety and hypervigilance. Not much else to it.

Explode- Patrick Stump They said that they found it in the basement/Enough to just blow that roof to the pavement/And he was the man for the job/A one-man bomb squad/A middle aged mess thinking

Commentary track: Garak whenever anyone goes "hey you, the former spy, we need you to do spy stuff".

Lovesong- Snake River Conspiracy However far away, I will always love you/However long I stay, I will always love you/Whatever words I say, I will always love you/I will always love you

Commentary track: a dark romance song about utter devotion regardless of what someone does to you. Describes far too many of Garak's relationships.

Live by the Sword- Dorian Electra It's cold like the ocean cold like the rain/Show your devotion, show me the pain/Show me the blood, show me you tried/Show me the tears coming down from your eyes

Commentary track: there's a video on YouTube analyzing the Flamboyant album through a trans lens, and this one is read as describing a threat- if you want to live like this (out and proud), you're gonna die like this. It also works as a parallelism between Garak's two fathers- Tolan, warning him to chose a life other than violence, and Tain, urging him to take power through violence.

Father- The Front Bottoms I have this dream that I am hitting my dad with a baseball bat/And he is screaming and crying for help/And maybe halfway through it has more to do with me killing him/Then it ever did protecting myself

Commentary track: Garak has daddy issues... bit of a Garak/Palandine vibe as well, and kind of a gender vibe.

Villainous Thing- Shayfer James Oh dear, let me see those smokey eyes/'Cause you're a villainous thing/And we can't have you living a lie/Oh dear, let's remove those pretty clothes/'Cause you're a villainous thing, oh/And I don't think anyone knows

Commentary track: Garak talking about someone else? Someone talking about Garak? Works either way

Our Word- 36 Questions And as I laid there helplessly/A million different thoughts came to me/I saw my parents hearing the news/"Your only daughter drowned today"/I thought about what they might say

Commentary track: a family that teaches their child to lie to the point where lying is the natural and expected reaction to any complicated emotion or situation.

Hatef--k- the Bravery And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness/There will be no tenderness, no tenderness/I will show no mercy for you/you had no mercy for me/The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly

Commentary track: Garak's relationship to far too many people, but specifically Barkan. We know Barkan doesn't consider his enjoinment to actually prohibit him from sleeping with other people- he and Garak definitely had bad sex while they were at school together.

The Moss- Cosmo Sheldrake Well, legend has it when the sunbeams come/All the plants, they eat them with their leaves/Well, legend has it that the world spins 'round/On an axis of 23 degrees

Commentary track: this is almost entirely vibes based, at best I can say it's connecting to Garak's relationship with Tolan and Hebitian religion.

The Heroine- Unwoman I go through the motions again and again/But you are not here to see them/I go through the emotions again and again/And this time I actually feel them

Commentary track: Garak's feelings of abandonment on post canon Cardassia, if you buy that Julian wouldn't immediately start triaging people after the bombardment.

Dust and Ashes- Josh Groban How did I live?/I taste every wasted minute/Every time I turned away/From the things that might have healed me/How long have I been sleeping?

Commentary track: credit to @ofhouseadama on this one; I hadn't paid any mind to Great Comet in years, and she's right, it is a REALLY fitting post canon Garak song.

Honorable Madam- Daniel Kahn and Vanya Zhuk Honorable Madam/Queen of Separation/Many years we've been/The very closest of relations/I beg you, do not taunt me/Don't tear my words apart/If Death don't want me/How about your heart?/I beg you, do not taunt me/Don't tear my words apart/If Death don't want me/How about your heart?

Commentary track: it was very hard to chose a lyric selection. This song very much reminds me if my own fucked up relationship to the idea of homelands, borders, and "seperation". Interpret the "honorable madam" who is both "loving and oppressing" and its pretty decent song to describe Garak's relationship to Cardassia.

Circus- Lindsay Mendez Hello kind sir I'm so glad you never met me/You're my first one so forgive me if it's messy/Just to be fair/I admit that I'm scared/And sorry for what I must do

Commentary track: this one's creepy! And fucked up! Just like Garak's relationship to literally everything because of being raised with the expectation of being a spy, torturer, and assassin from a young age- especially if you think he honeypotted. Blending the lines of intimacy and violence.

Writer in the Dark- Lorde I am my mother's child, I'll love you 'til my breathing stops/I'll love you 'til you call the cops on me/But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power/I'll find a way to be without you, babe

Commentary track: Garak has mommy issues too, it's equality. Also a song about abandonment and learning to move on.

Adam Raised a Cain- Murder by Death (cover) In the darkness of your room/Your mother calls you by your true name/You remember the faces, the places, the names/You know it's never over it's relentless as the rain

Commentary track: the secrets and violence your parents teach you.

Compulsive Liar- Ezra Furman I've got one fatal flaw/I'm a compulsive liar/If I don't love you/I will tell you anything/And even if I love you/I'll always be conniving/I'll always be negotiating with the truth

Commentary track: lying, closets, and queer subtext! About the ways lying and confinement feel safer than the truth and freedom.

A body on the step- American Murder Song Was a mother, was a mother, burning someone's clothes/Was a mother, was a mother, burning someone's clothes/With rope in her apron and black for an eye/A body on the step and lies all about

Commentary Track: yet another song about a family that lies and ruins each others lives, but especially their children's. Also a really good song to write to.

[lifeofkaze]

Valentine's Challenge 2022 - Day 5

Prompt: Heartbreak

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: I love breaking Lizzie's and Orion's hearts (oops) but this time, make it Rockstar. This story is happening BEFORE the beginning of When Stars Ignite and the affair between Lizzie and Orion hasn't happened yet - no one is hypocritical or cheating here!

The title song is breaking with our rule to only choose rock songs, but this version is the one that inspired this whole scene out of nowhere so... bear with me.

General Warning: The whole Rockstar fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We have given specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes have been more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention, and they will do so in this bonus chapter, too. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: none

~~~

If you would like to read the whole fic, you can find the masterpost here.

Find all stories of this challenge in the masterpost here.

~~~

The Rockstar AU is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell @thatravenpuffwitch @anthamariemayfair @whatwouldvalerydo

Your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you

She tied you to a kitchen chair

She broke your throne, and she cut your hair

And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

~ Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah ~

One year prior…

It was the evening before Valentine’s Day and Lizzie was bored. As a happily single woman she should be out and about on the streets of London, celebrating her independence and freedom with good music and strong drinks. But instead, she had been stuck in the big old house in Kensington belonging to Ethan Parkin with the other members of their band for the better part of her day.

Their latest album Beneath a Burning Sky, which had celebrated a spectacular release several weeks ago, had been doing even better than anticipated and they were considering adding more shows to their upcoming tour.

“If we tighten the travel time, I don’t see any reason not to play additional shows in Poland,” Ethan was insisting on his ambitious new schedule. “We could even make a side-trip to the Baltic countries.”

“Sure, cut our time-off even more,” Merula muttered. “Why the fuck not? We might as well sleep on stage at this point.”

Ethan scowled at her. “Do you want to show the world your work or not? If you- Okay, whose fucking phone is this?”

The vibrations of a phone had cut through Ethan’s lecture, like it had done several times already. Ethan’s scowl deepened when he saw Orion taking his phone out of his pocket. He frowned at it and started to type a message.

“Are we boring you, Orion?”

Orion looked up to find Ethan glaring at him. “We are a team, so none of us stands above the other. How could I not take an interest in what is decided tonight?”

“Because it bloody well looks like texting some trivial shit is more important to you than listening to me. Put that fucking phone away or I’ll do it for you.”

Orion arched an eyebrow but put his phone back into his pocket, nonetheless. Lizzie thought that he was looking tense but when she leaned over to him to ask if he was alright, Ethan narrowed his eyes at her and she quickly sat upright again.

Lizzie and the other band members had agreed to celebrate Lizzie moving into a new place after their meeting, so when Ethan finally let them go, they all made the short trip into Chelsea sharing a minivan cab. Most of them were chatting and laughing; only Orion was keeping out of the conversation. He was sunk deep into his seat, his whole concentration fixed onto the phone in his hand.

Lizzie was burning to know what was bothering him, but she was too busy showing her friends around her new home to think about Orion. It was only when she excused herself to go find the menu of the Thai delivery service around the corner that she noticed she hadn’t seen Orion in a while.

Standing between her kitchen door and the hallway, Lizzie frowned. It was close to midnight - Valentine’s Day, she thought, not without rolling her eyes - and they had been working most of the day. Orion had probably just gone home to see his girlfriend. It was unlike him to just leave without saying goodbye, but then again, he had been strange for the better part of the day.

Pushing her thoughts about Orion aside, Lizzie searched her kitchen drawers for the menu. She couldn’t find it anywhere until she remembered that she had looked through it while watching a movie in bed yesterday, so was probably still lying on her nightstand.

As she stepped into her bedroom, she frowned; the door to the room stood slightly ajar and a cold breeze came from the open window. She went to close it and realised with a jolt that someone was standing outside on the small balcony.

Orion was leaning on the wrought iron railing on his forearms. It was freezing outside, but he didn’t seem to notice; instead, he was staring at the curtain of cold rain dripping down from the roofs across the street. He had his phone in his hands, but when it lit up, he didn’t look at it.

“What are you doing out here?” Lizzie asked and stood next to him. The floor was icy beneath her feet.

“Fate meant well with you when it bestowed this beautiful new home on you,” Orion said instead of answering her question .

“That had less to do with fate and more with a really good estate agent.”

Orion laughed softly. “Be that as it may, you were fortunate to find this place. And with a balcony on top.”

“So you had to go and check it out?”

“I needed a moment of solitude,” Orion said and bowed his head. A flicker of sadness seemed to pass over his features as his phone lit up a second time; he still wasn’t looking at it. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my mark by coming here.”

“It’s fine,” Lizzie shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything to hide.”

“You don’t? What about these?” Orion nodded at a bucket standing in the corner of the balcony. It contained a big bouquet of dark red roses. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow you haven’t shared with us?”

Lizzie had to laugh. “They’re not for me,” she snickered, “and I don’t mean to send them to anyone either. Not in the way that you think, at least. I’m going to post them to Skye first thing tomorrow, with a card signed by Erika.”

If Orion was surprised he didn’t show it. “Like the two poles of a magnet, the attraction between them is not to be denied.”

“I’m sick of Skye complaining about Erika all the time,” Lizzie agreed. “You should hear her, Rath here, Rath there - she’s driving me insane. I figured, why not push their luck a little?”

Orion arched an eyebrow. “Your willingness to bring two hearts together is admirable, but don’t you think they should be allowed to find each other on their own terms and at their own pace?”

“Not if I have to watch them dance around each other a second longer. All this sneaking around must be so exhausting. They just need a little push, that’s all.”

“As magnificent as they are now, your roses won’t make much of an impression if you don’t get them inside soon. They are flowers made for summer and thrive in warmth and sunlight. Out in this cold, their petals will break and their beauty wane.” His expression was sad and he held out his hand, catching one of the drops falling from the roof edge above them in his palm. “No one likes the cold much.”

“Then why are you out here?” Lizzie wanted to know, stepping from one foot to the other to keep warm. It had been meant as a joke, but when she saw Orion hang his head, she stopped hopping around and stood closer to him. “You must be freezing.”

“I am,” Orion admitted, “but the cold numbs the head as well as the heart.”

“Dramatic. Have you ever considered writing songs?” Lizzie was happy to see a smile appear on Orion’s face, but it was only short-lived. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Orion didn’t reply, but Lizzie noticed that he had stopped turning his phone between his hands and was now holding it tightly. “Is this about all the texts you’ve been getting tonight?”

“You’re perceptive,” Orion said. Lizzie expected some elaborate comparison or train of thought to follow, but Orion had fallen silent again. He was looking so sad it hurt Lizzie to see him like this.

“You look like heartbreak if I’ve ever seen one, and I’ve seen my share,” she said, not without a touch of bitterness. “If that harpy you’re seeing is -”

“Don’t call her that,” Orion said immediately but it sounded half-heartedly. “None of this is her fault.”

“Then it’s yours?”

Orion shook his head. “It’s no one’s fault and everyone’s.” Upon seeing Lizzie’s confused expression, he sighed deeply. “She’s not happy that I’m here tonight.”

“No one’s keeping you here,” Lizzie said, mildly irritated at his words. “You can always go home if that makes her feel better.”

Truth be told, Lizzie had never been a fan of Orion’s girlfriend. They had met at an event a little over a year ago and had started a whirlwind romance shortly after. They had been happy for a while, but lately, Lizzie had noticed Orion getting more and more quiet when it came to his relationship. It was no wonder; his girlfriend had never understood what being a musician - truly living for and through music - actually meant. When Orion spoke again, Lizzie found her suspicions to be confirmed.

“She is hurt that I keep spending time with all of you outside of rehearsals,” he explained and sounded tired. “She doesn’t understand that we don’t have a job you leave behind at the office to go home and forget about it. Music is everything. It’s who I am.” He shook his head and brushed the hair that had fallen into his eyes from his face.

“The band is you,” Lizzie said quietly and felt Orion’s pain; they had all been in his position at one point or another. “Your music is part of your soul. You can’t separate these things. She should have thought of that before she got involved with you.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she thought she knew, but didn’t. We will never know. We can only deal with the cards dealt to us at present.”

Lizzie made a non-descriptive noise but her answer was cut short when the phone in Orion’s hand buzzed again. He took a quick look at the screen and then sighed deeply. “Although it seems that my hand has just changed.”

Without another word he held his phone out for Lizzie to take. She hesitated before reading the message flashing up on the lockscreen.

I don’t care if it’s important or not. I’m too good for this. If you’re not home by midnight we’re done. Them or me, your call.

“Ouch,” she said and handed him the phone back. “I’m sorry. It’s unfair of her to ask such a decision from you.”

“It’s her prerogative. Sharing the life we lead is not easy,” Orion answered levelly but Lizzie heard the strain in his voice.

“What are you going to do?”

Orion took a moment to answer. “I think my head and heart want different things.”

“And which is which?”

He laughed quietly, but it sounded bitter. “I’m still here, am I?”

“You really love her, don’t you?” Lizzie said and the pain on Orion’s face stung inside her heart.

“I do. But I love our band equally as much. You are my family. How am I to choose between who I love and who I am? If I gave up one for the other, who would that make me?”

“There is no right answer to that,” Lizzie said sadly. “But sometimes love means letting go, even if it hurts.”

Orion’s phone buzzed again, but this time it was an incoming call. He froze and took a long, contemplative look at the picture of a pretty blonde coming up on his screen before rejecting the call and switching off his phone.

“Looks like I’ll be spending Valentine’s Day on my own this year,” he said and looked so defeated that Lizzie reached out to lay a hand on his arm.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, “but you don’t have to be alone if you don’t want to. There’s still me, and the others, too.” She bent down and picked one of the roses meant for Skye out of the bucket and held it out to Orion with a comforting smile. “Here, for the heartbreak.”

Orion smiled sadly and took the rose from her, spinning the stem between his fingers. He looked at the dark red petals thoughtfully.

“A rose by any other name…,” he mumbled, more to himself than anything.

“Always the poet, huh?”

“There is no shame in employing the masters’ words if your own fail you.” Orion didn’t look at her, but his smile wasn’t as sad anymore. It vanished again when he gently touched the soft petals of the rose with one finger. “I don’t seem to have any words of my own left tonight, I’m sorry.”

“That’s a first,” Lizzie said and nudged Orion into his side with her elbow when she saw that a small smile was spreading on his face again.

The sharp ping of an incoming text cut through the silence. This time, it was Lizzie’s phone. She took it out and quickly glanced at it.

“Skye wants to know where the fuck we are. They’re getting pizza now.”

“We have kept our friends waiting long enough,” Orion conceded with a small bow of his head. “Maybe we should go back inside. They will wonder as to why we’re coming out of your bedroom.”

“What business would you and I have in my bedroom,” Lizzie laughed. “Let them think what they want. We don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. I’m fine freezing together with you.”

Lizzie thought Orion wanted to protest, but he changed his mind and nodded gratefully. It had stopped raining and a gap in the clouds revealed a bright and full moon. A few streets away the clock of Chelsea Old Church chimed midnight. Lizzie leaned her head against Orion’s shoulder.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“To you as well,” he answered, and Lizzie thought she could hear a smile in his voice. “And thank you.”

“Whatever for.”

“For being my friend.”

Lizzie smiled and neither of them spoke anymore. Instead, they stood next to each other and enjoyed the comfortable silence, watching the raindrops falling from the roofs glittering in the silver moonlight like the stars falling down on Earth.

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

@spicedrobot made a pretty nifty template that you can fill out yourself if you take it into a program that lets you type the information in the blanks.

It's really hard to pick a favorite fic, tbh. I had several, but She broke your throne, and she cut your hair (And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah) (Emma Frost/Tony Stark) doesn't have as much love to it as some of the others, and this was a real labor of love and made me feel really good while writing it.

Other favorites include:

There he was, like double cherry pie (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

A castaway where no one hears you on a barren isle in a lonely sea (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

Cupcakes and Gunfire (Scott Summers/Bucky Barnes)

The dirt that's on your knees (Loki/Justin Hammer)

Here comes the sun, and I say it’s alright (Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes)

sun is going down (sinking behind bridges in the road) (Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington)

To eat that burning heart out of his hand (Stephen Strange/Kaecilius)

@spicedrobot made a very nice template for Ao3 Wrapped and I filled it for myself! Hehe

<3

[butterflies-dragons]

SANSA STARK & TARGARYEN IMAGERY

A list of Targaryen Imagery around Sansa Stark in A Song of Ice and Fire

Fire and Blood

Black and Red

Silver and Purple

Dragon's Tail

Dragon Wings

Dragon Eggs

Dragon Skulls

Golden Dragons

Dragon Knights

Valyrian Steel

Dance of the Dragons

Maegor the Cruel

Baelor the Blessed

Aegon the Unworthy

Prince Aemon the Dragonknight

Aerys the Mad King

Rhaegar the ast dragon

Bonus: Fiery Hair

1. FIRE AND BLOOD

Sansa slid off her mare, but she was too slow. Arya swung with both hands. There was a loud crack as the wood split against the back of the prince's head, and then everything happened at once before Sansa's horrified eyes. Joffrey staggered and whirled around, roaring curses. Mycah ran for the trees as fast as his legs would take him. Arya swung at the prince again, but this time Joffrey caught the blow on Lion's Tooth and sent her broken stick flying from her hands. The back of his head was all bloody and his eyes were on fire.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. "I hate her!" she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night's fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

When the king's herald moved forward, Sansa realized the moment was almost at hand. She smoothed down the cloth of her skirt nervously. She was dressed in mourning, as a sign of respect for the dead king, but she had taken special care to make herself beautiful. Her gown was the ivory silk that the queen had given her, the one Arya had ruined, but she'd had them dye it black and you couldn't see the stain at all. She had fretted over her jewelry for hours and finally decided upon the elegant simplicity of a plain silver chain.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa V

Then she realized that the blood had soaked through the sheet into the featherbed, so she bundled that up as well, but it was big and cumbersome, hard to move. Sansa could get only half of it into the fire. She was on her knees, struggling to shove the mattress into the flames as thick grey smoke eddied around her and filled the room, when the door burst open and she heard her maid gasp.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

When she crawled out of bed, long moments later, she was alone. She found his cloak on the floor, twisted up tight, the white wool stained by blood and fire.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VII

"The dwarf's wife did the murder with him," swore an archer in Lord Rowan's livery. "Afterward, she vanished from the hall in a puff of brimstone, and a ghostly direwolf was seen prowling the Red Keep, blood dripping from his jaws."

—A Storm of Swords - Jaime VII

As the boy's lips touched her own she found herself thinking of another kiss. She could still remember how it felt, when his cruel mouth pressed down on her own. He had come to Sansa in the darkness as green fire filled the sky. He took a song and a kiss, and left me nothing but a bloody cloak.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

2. BLACK AND RED

The queen wore a high-collared black silk gown, with a hundred dark red rubies sewn into her bodice, covering her from neck to bosom. They were cut in the shape of teardrops, as if the queen were weeping blood.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

Tyrion wore a doublet of black velvet covered with golden scrollwork, thigh-high boots that added three inches to his height, a chain of rubies and lions’ heads. But the gash across his face was raw and red, and his nose was a hideous scab. “You are very beautiful, Sansa,” he told her.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

3. SILVER AND PURPLE

Sansa closed the shutters and turned sharply away from the window. "You look very lovely today, my lady," Ser Arys said.

"Thank you, ser." Knowing that Joffrey would require her to attend the tourney in his honor, Sansa had taken special care with her face and clothes. She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey's gifts as well. When they told him that Robb had been proclaimed King in the North, his rage had been a fearsome thing, and he had sent Ser Boros to beat her.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

"You've waited so long, be patient awhile longer. Here, I have something for you." Ser Dontos fumbled in his pouch and drew out a silvery spiderweb, dangling it between his thick fingers.

It was a hair net of fine-spun silver, the strands so thin and delicate the net seemed to weigh no more than a breath of air when Sansa took it in her fingers. Small gems were set wherever two strands crossed, so dark they drank the moonlight. "What stones are these?"

"Black amethysts from Asshai. The rarest kind, a deep true purple by daylight."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VIII

Sansa wore a gown of silvery satin trimmed in vair, with dagged sleeves that almost touched the floor, lined in soft purple felt. Shae had arranged her hair artfully in a delicate silver net winking with dark purple gemstones. Tyrion had never seen her look more lovely, yet she wore sorrow on those long satin sleeves. "Lady Sansa," he told her, "you shall be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight."

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

4. DRAGON WINGS

Tyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth. Otherwise she only nibbled at the fruit and fish and honeycakes. Every time Joffrey looked at her, her tummy got so fluttery that she felt as though she'd swallowed a bat.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

"What wife?"

"I forgot, you've been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell's daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head."

—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII

5. DRAGON EGGS

Butterbumps arrived before the food, dressed in a jester’s suit of green and yellow feathers with a floppy coxcomb. An immense round fat man, as big as three Moon Boys, he came cartwheeling into the hall, vaulted onto the table, and laid a gigantic egg right in front of Sansa. “Break it, my lady,” he commanded. When she did, a dozen yellow chicks escaped and began running in all directions. “Catch them!” Butterbumps exclaimed. Little Lady Bulwer snagged one and handed it to him, whereby he tilted back his head, popped it into his huge rubbery mouth, and seemed to swallow it whole. When he belched, tiny yellow feathers flew out his nose. Lady Bulwer began to wail in distress, but her tears turned into a sudden squeal of delight when the chick came squirming out of the sleeve of her gown and ran down her arm.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

In the Queen's Ballroom they broke their fast on honeycakes baked with blackberries and nuts, gammon steaks, bacon, fingerfish crisped in breadcrumbs, autumn pears, and a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, and chopped eggs cooked up with fiery peppers.

[…] Tyrion scarce touched his food, Sansa noticed, though he drank several cups of the wine. For herself, she tried a little of the Dornish eggs, but the peppers burned her mouth.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

6. DRAGON’S TAIL

The morning of King Joffrey's name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. "What do you think it means?" she asked him.

"Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. "See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace's name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey's Comet."

Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. "I've heard servants calling it the Dragon's Tail."

"King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son," Ser Arys said. "He is the dragon's heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey's ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies."

Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey's enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king's command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The comet was red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn't the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

7. DRAGON SKULLS

Within, the dragon skulls were waiting, and so was Shae. “I thought m’lord had forgotten me.” Her dress was draped over a black tooth near as tall as she was, and she stood within the dragon’s jaws, nude. Balerion, he thought. Or was it Vhagar? One dragon skull looked much like another.

[...] After, as they lay entwined amongst the dragon skulls, he rested his head against her, inhaling the smooth clean smell of her hair. “We should go back,” he said reluctantly. “It must be near dawn. Sansa will be waking.

[...] The Others can take my guilt, he thought as he slipped his tunic over his head. Why should I be guilty? My wife wants no part of me, and most especially not the part that seems to want her. Perhaps he ought to tell her about Shae. It was not as though he was the first man ever to keep a concubine. Sansa’s own oh-so-honorable father had given her a bastard brother. For all he knew, his wife might be thrilled to learn that he was fucking Shae, so long as it spared her his unwelcome touch.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VII

8. GOLDEN DRAGONS

"The queen raised her voice. "A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!”

“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.”

[...] Shortly, Jory brought him Ice.

When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”

“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.

“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III

"Petyr Baelish put a hand on the rail. "But first you’ll want your payment. Ten thousand dragons, was it?”

“Ten thousand.” Dontos rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “As you promised, my lord.”

[...] “But he saved me.”

“He sold you for a promise of ten thousand dragons.

[...]“Sansa felt sick. "He said he was my Florian.”

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

“Your sister’s had no difficulty finding witnesses to your guilt.” Ser Kevan rolled up the parchment. “Ser Addam has men hunting for your wife. Varys has offered a hundred stags for word of her whereabouts, and a hundred dragons for the girl herself. If the girl can be found she will be found, and I shall bring her to you. I see no harm in husband and wife sharing the same cell and giving comfort to one another.”

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IX

Someplace no stag ever found … though a dragon might.

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne III

"A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that's not likely, is it?"

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

9. DRAGON KNIGHTS

She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

"True knights would never harm women and children." The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

"True knights." The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. "No doubt you're right. So why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long now."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa V

They continued down the serpentine and across a small sunken courtyard. Ser Dontos shoved open a heavy door and lit a taper. They were inside a long gallery. Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs. As they hurried past, the taper's light made the shadows of each scale stretch and twist. The hollow knights are turning into dragons, she thought.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

10. VALYRIAN STEEL

Lord Tywin waited until last to present the king with his own gift: a longsword. Its scabbard was made of cherrywood, gold, and oiled red leather, studded with golden lions' heads. The lions had ruby eyes, she saw. The ballroom fell silent as Joffrey unsheathed the blade and thrust the sword above his head. Red and black ripples in the steel shimmered in the morning light.

[…] "A great sword must have a great name, my lords! What shall I call it?"

[…] The guests were shouting out names for the new blade. Joff dismissed a dozen before he heard one he liked. "Widow's Wail!" he cried.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

But she had another longsword hidden in her bedroll. She sat on the bed and took it out. Gold glimmered yellow in the candlelight and rubies smoldered red. When she slid Oathkeeper from the ornate scabbard, Brienne's breath caught in her throat. Black and red the ripples ran, deep within the steel. Valyrian steel, spell-forged. It was a sword fit for a hero. When she was small, her nurse had filled her ears with tales of valor, regaling her with the noble exploits of Ser Galladon of Morne, Florian the Fool, Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, and other champions. Each man bore a famous sword, and surely Oathkeeper belonged in their company, even if she herself did not. "You'll be defending Ned Stark's daughter with Ned Stark's own steel," Jaime had promised.

—A Feast for Crows - Brienne I

11. DANCE OF THE DRAGONS

Later, while Sansa was off listening to a troupe of singers perform the complex round of interwoven ballads called the "Dance of the Dragons," Ned inspected the bruise himself. "I hope Forel is not being too hard on you," he said.

—A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII

He sang of the Dance of the Dragons, of fair Jonquil and her fool, of Jenny of Oldstones and the Prince of Dragonflies. He sang of betrayals, and murders most foul, of hanged men and bloody vengeance. He sang of grief and sadness.

—A Feast for Crows - Sansa I

12. MAEGOR THE CRUEL

The room where Sansa had been confined was at the top of the highest tower of Maegor's Holdfast.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

In the tower room at the heart of Maegor's Holdfast, Sansa gave herself to the darkness.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

13. BAELOR THE BLESSED

"Baelor starved himself to death, fasting," said Tyrion. "His uncle served him loyally as Hand, as he had served the Young Dragon before him. Viserys might only have reigned a year, but he ruled for fifteen, while Daeron warred and Baelor prayed." He made a sour face. "And if he did remove his nephew, can you blame him? Someone had to save the realm from Baelor's follies."

Sansa was shocked. "But Baelor the Blessed was a great king. He walked the Boneway barefoot to make peace with Dorne, and rescued the Dragonknight from a snakepit. The vipers refused to strike him because he was so pure and holy."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV

14. AEGON THE UNWORTHY

Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa II

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it."

Sansa shook her head. "He won't."

"He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

15. PRINCE AEMON THE DRAGONKNIGHT

He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse, and Sansa's spirits took flight. A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

"Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother's queen.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV

For those who remained, a singer was brought forth to fill the hall with the sweet music of the high harp. He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. They were beautiful songs, but terribly sad. Several of the women began to weep, and Sansa felt her own eyes growing moist.

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI

16. AERYS THE MAD KING

"Ser Ilyn has not been feeling talkative these past fourteen years," Lord Renly commented with a sly smile.

Joffrey gave his uncle a look of pure loathing, then took Sansa's hands in his own. "Aerys Targaryen had his tongue ripped out with hot pincers."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"The battleground is right up ahead, where the river bends. That was where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen, you know. He smashed in his chest, crunch, right through the armor." Joffrey swung an imaginary warhammer to show her how it was done. "Then my uncle Jaime killed old Aerys, and my father was king."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"You can't talk to me that way. The king can do as he likes."

"Aerys Targaryen did as he liked. Has your mother ever told you what happened to him?"

Ser Boros Blount harrumphed. "No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard."

—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III

17. RHAEGAR THE LAST DRAGON

"The battleground is right up ahead, where the river bends. That was where my father killed Rhaegar Targaryen, you know. He smashed in his chest, crunch, right through the armor." Joffrey swung an imaginary warhammer to show her how it was done.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

"My father told everyone my bedding had caught fire, and our maester gave me ointments. Ointments! Gregor got his ointments too. Four years later, they anointed him with the seven oils and he recited his knightly vows and Rhaegar Targaryen tapped him on the shoulder and said, 'Arise, Ser Gregor.'"

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

18. BONUS: FIERY HAIR

Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair.

—A Game of Thrones - Arya I

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor."

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

[im-a-mcsimp-for-mchotties]

Hallelujah: Ghost x Soap

The moonlight streamed through the small window in the room where Ghost and Soap laid, wrapped in each others’ arms. Soap clears his throat quietly, looking his lover in the eyes with a soft smile.

“What are you smilin’ about?” Ghost asks, voice quiet. “Can I sing a song for you?” Soap asks. “Can you what?” “Can I sing you a song?” Soap asks again with a soft chuckle.

“If you want to, go ahead,” Ghost says. Soap begins, his singing filling the room. “Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord, but you don’t really care for music do ya? It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift, the baffled king composing hallelujah.” He takes a breath, beginning the next verse as Ghost tilts his head just slightly.

“Your faith was strong, but you needed proof, you saw her standing on the roof, her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her.” Soap gently strokes his hand over Ghost’s cheek, smiling. “She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne and she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the hallelujah.”

Ghost’s icy eyes fill just a little with tears as he strokes Soap’s cheek with his hand. Soap goes to begin again, but before he can, Ghost presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you too, Soap. Always have,” he says, voice cracking. Soap smiles. “I figured you would know that me singing this was a confession. You were always too smart for your own good,” he teases.

————————————————————————

After a few months of dating, Soap comes up behind Ghost at the shooting range, fiddling with a small box that’s hidden in the pocket of his pants. “Turn around, I’ve got something for you,” he says softly. Ghost turns around and is met by the sight of Soap on one knee, a small silver band in the box.

“Soap- Wha-?” Ghost stutters, jaw dropping. “This is probably not the proposal you expected, or even wanted. But I couldn’t wait, I didn’t want to wait. I love you, and I always will love you. Will you marry me?” Soap asks with a gentle smile. “Of course I will you big oaf, get up here,” Ghost says with tears in his eyes. Soap slips the ring onto his finger and kisses him.

Whoops and hollers erupt from the other parts of the shooting range, and from a distance Price yells: “I’m officiating that wedding whether you like it or not!” Soap laughs and waves his hand towards Price. Roach jogs up with a grin. “I’m invited, right?” Ghost pats the kid’s cheek and smiles. “‘Course you are, Roach. Wouldn’t be the same without you.”

————————————————————————

The day of the wedding arrives quickly, and the two men walk down the aisle, arm in arm, dressed in their dress uniforms. “Let’s do this,” Ghost whispers softly to his soon to be husband. Soap smiles and squeezes his hand softly.

“Alright you two! Let’s get this show on the road!” Price says with a grin as the two of them stand in front of Price. “Do you, John “Soap” MacTavish take Simon “Ghost” Riley as your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “And do you, Simon “Ghost” Riley take John “Soap” MacTavish as your lawfully wedded husband?” “I do.” “Then by the power vested in me by the British government, I now pronounce you as husband and husband!”

Soap grins a cheshire grin at the man he can now call his husband. “I love you,” he says and kisses Ghost like there’s no tomorrow. Ghost grins into the kiss and Price chuckles. “Alright you crazy kids, there’s a reception to go to. It’s downstairs.”

Soap pulls Ghost onto the dance floor to dance as soon as they get downstairs. The dj puts on some music, and they start dancing slowly, Ghost laying his head on Soap’s shoulder. A familiar song comes on, and Soap squeezes Ghost’s waist gently.

“Would you listen to that? I wonder who requested this,” Soap says. Ghost chuckles into Soap’s shoulder. “Yeah, I wonder who,” he says softly. He picks up his head and looks his husband in the eye. “From my lips you drew the hallelujah, darling.” Soap smiles. “That I did, love, that I did.”

A/N: this idea came about from a headcanon i had sent to my friend about ghost and soap being friends with benefits and then soap sings the song and then they start dating and get married :’) @satan-incarnate-666 thank u for letting me scream about this headcanon!!!

by the way this is the song i used, all song credit goes to leonard cohen :))

[monmuses]

smileduponyou​:

“Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord That David played and it pleased the Lord But you don’t really care for music Do you?

It goes like this; The fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah… Hallelujah… Hallelujah… Hallelujah…”

This was a shitty, run down school… but damn did the auditorium still have great acoustics.

@monmuses​

     Once again, he was in the halls, passing by while in his study period, having free time to roam around before hearing that voice again. Gregory’s voice ever so rung through the halls of the school, peeking in the auditorium through its massive doors. His voice sung again, and he couldn’t help but smile...

     ...because he knew this song.

     “… Your faith was strong but you needed proof. You saw her bathing on the roof...” He sung along to those words upon entering the auditorium; not in a loud manner, but to himself, standing near one of the seats from the back of the room.

     “Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her; She tied you to a kitchen chair~. She broke your throne, and she cut your hair, And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah...”